DOI Heft:
February 23, 1889
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17687#0103
A DISTINCTION WITH A DIFFERENCE.
Cautious C-raner. “ Hi ! I say ! What’s the other side ? ” Sportsman (just landing). “ You are ! ”
YERY CIVIL LAW.
In the course of the prosecution of Patrick Molloy for perjury
a witness of the name of Delaney was examined, and informed the
Court that he was “ a convict undergoing penal servitude for life,”
for having conspired to murder Mr. Justice Lawson. A little later
Mr. Charles Matthews, the most courteous of Counsel, had
occasion to recall this misguided and luckless individual, when the
following dialogue is reported
“ Mr. Matthews : I think, Delaney, you wish to make a correction in
your evidence. You said on Friday that you had not seen the prisoner from
the year 1882 until you saw him in the dock here, when you gave evidence.
Is that so ?—Witness : No. I saw him in Holloway Prison.
“ Where you are at present detained ?—Yes.”
“ Where you are at present detained ” is delightful, and suggests
reflections of the pleasantest character. Why should we not be
polite with our prisoners ? After all, harshness is a relic of bar-
barism. We have it on the authority of Ovid that the polish of
social life “ Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros,” and surely the
Bench and the Bar should lay the lesson to heart. Instead of the
usual painful conclusion to the more serious trials at the Central
Criminal Court, which commences with “ Prisoner at the Bar,” and
ends with “mercy on your soul,” why should we not have something
like the following ?—
Scene—The Old Bailey.
The Audience are awaiting the delivery of the Sentence.
Judge (assuming his black cap). Mr. William Sikes, will you
favour me by kindly standing at that Bar for a few moments—I will
not inconvenience you for many seconds. Thank you. I must ask
your pardon for wearing my hat while you remain uncovered, but
the fact is this Court is terribly draughty, and I find that even my
wig is not a sufficient protection against the chance of my taking a
sudden chill. Coughs and colds are so very prevalent at this incle-
ment season of the year. Hem! I am sure we are very much
obliged to you for giving us so little trouble. Thanks to you, the
evidence upon which the jury have founded the verdict they have
just delivered is of the clearest possible character, and they have had
no difficulty consequently in arriving at a just conclusion. I am
sure that you will wish to join with me and the Lord Mayor who
sits on my right in offering them our sincerest recognition of their
valuable services. I will not weary you with the details of a matter
in which you have taken a prominent part, and with which, there-
fore, you are equally conversant as myself. It is my duty, however,—
a duty which is at once a pain and yet a pleasure,—to inform you that
the law requires certain formalities to be observed which I am con-
vinced will meet with your entire approbation. On leaving the par-
ticular portion of the Court which has been graced with your presence
on this most interesting occasion, you will be invited to return to
the apartments you have recently occupied. You will find that my
worthy friend, the Sheriff, has studied your comfort by providing a
handsome carriage and pair for your convenience. It is heartily at
your service, and I hope you will have a pleasant drive. A little
later, the Sheriff will call upon you and submit other arrangements
in contemplation, for your consideration. I have no doubt every-
thing will be entirely to your satisfaction,_ and—you will pardon the
innocent pleasantry—that enough rope will be given to you. We
must not be too strict with persons like yourself, accustomed to have
their own way. In conclusion, believe me, you have my earnest
desire for your future happiness. I must now reluctantly say adieu,
as we both have engagements that require immediate attention—
moreover, I am unwilling to trespass further upon your goodnature.
I have the honour to wish you a pleasant afternoon.
[Raises cap, bows, and exit.
Surely this would be an improvement upon the present painfully
disagreeable formula. Perhaps Mr. Justice Hawkins (who has not
unfrequently taken a part in proceedings somewhat similar to those
to which we have referred) might like to inaugurate the new
regime f His Lordship is never wanting in courtesy, even now.
Were he to advance in the direction we have indicated, we feel sure
that, in a very short time, it would be a genuine pleasure for all of
us to hang upon his every word.
Chess So!
[Dr. King, Bishop of Lincoln, is about to be tried for ritualistic practices.]
What, going to try the great Bishop of Lincoln ?
A terrible thing for a layman to think on. _
Their game ? Oh ! it’s not an unusual thing,
A Bishop to move to give check to a King.
Cautious C-raner. “ Hi ! I say ! What’s the other side ? ” Sportsman (just landing). “ You are ! ”
YERY CIVIL LAW.
In the course of the prosecution of Patrick Molloy for perjury
a witness of the name of Delaney was examined, and informed the
Court that he was “ a convict undergoing penal servitude for life,”
for having conspired to murder Mr. Justice Lawson. A little later
Mr. Charles Matthews, the most courteous of Counsel, had
occasion to recall this misguided and luckless individual, when the
following dialogue is reported
“ Mr. Matthews : I think, Delaney, you wish to make a correction in
your evidence. You said on Friday that you had not seen the prisoner from
the year 1882 until you saw him in the dock here, when you gave evidence.
Is that so ?—Witness : No. I saw him in Holloway Prison.
“ Where you are at present detained ?—Yes.”
“ Where you are at present detained ” is delightful, and suggests
reflections of the pleasantest character. Why should we not be
polite with our prisoners ? After all, harshness is a relic of bar-
barism. We have it on the authority of Ovid that the polish of
social life “ Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros,” and surely the
Bench and the Bar should lay the lesson to heart. Instead of the
usual painful conclusion to the more serious trials at the Central
Criminal Court, which commences with “ Prisoner at the Bar,” and
ends with “mercy on your soul,” why should we not have something
like the following ?—
Scene—The Old Bailey.
The Audience are awaiting the delivery of the Sentence.
Judge (assuming his black cap). Mr. William Sikes, will you
favour me by kindly standing at that Bar for a few moments—I will
not inconvenience you for many seconds. Thank you. I must ask
your pardon for wearing my hat while you remain uncovered, but
the fact is this Court is terribly draughty, and I find that even my
wig is not a sufficient protection against the chance of my taking a
sudden chill. Coughs and colds are so very prevalent at this incle-
ment season of the year. Hem! I am sure we are very much
obliged to you for giving us so little trouble. Thanks to you, the
evidence upon which the jury have founded the verdict they have
just delivered is of the clearest possible character, and they have had
no difficulty consequently in arriving at a just conclusion. I am
sure that you will wish to join with me and the Lord Mayor who
sits on my right in offering them our sincerest recognition of their
valuable services. I will not weary you with the details of a matter
in which you have taken a prominent part, and with which, there-
fore, you are equally conversant as myself. It is my duty, however,—
a duty which is at once a pain and yet a pleasure,—to inform you that
the law requires certain formalities to be observed which I am con-
vinced will meet with your entire approbation. On leaving the par-
ticular portion of the Court which has been graced with your presence
on this most interesting occasion, you will be invited to return to
the apartments you have recently occupied. You will find that my
worthy friend, the Sheriff, has studied your comfort by providing a
handsome carriage and pair for your convenience. It is heartily at
your service, and I hope you will have a pleasant drive. A little
later, the Sheriff will call upon you and submit other arrangements
in contemplation, for your consideration. I have no doubt every-
thing will be entirely to your satisfaction,_ and—you will pardon the
innocent pleasantry—that enough rope will be given to you. We
must not be too strict with persons like yourself, accustomed to have
their own way. In conclusion, believe me, you have my earnest
desire for your future happiness. I must now reluctantly say adieu,
as we both have engagements that require immediate attention—
moreover, I am unwilling to trespass further upon your goodnature.
I have the honour to wish you a pleasant afternoon.
[Raises cap, bows, and exit.
Surely this would be an improvement upon the present painfully
disagreeable formula. Perhaps Mr. Justice Hawkins (who has not
unfrequently taken a part in proceedings somewhat similar to those
to which we have referred) might like to inaugurate the new
regime f His Lordship is never wanting in courtesy, even now.
Were he to advance in the direction we have indicated, we feel sure
that, in a very short time, it would be a genuine pleasure for all of
us to hang upon his every word.
Chess So!
[Dr. King, Bishop of Lincoln, is about to be tried for ritualistic practices.]
What, going to try the great Bishop of Lincoln ?
A terrible thing for a layman to think on. _
Their game ? Oh ! it’s not an unusual thing,
A Bishop to move to give check to a King.