A Whim, and Its Consequences / Collection of British Authors Vol. CXIV

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XXXIII.

It is very difficult to say whether the change in the practice of our courts, by which prisoners are allowed counsel for their defence, is a real advantage to them or not. It is probable that in most cases the right of reply conceded to the prosecution, and the loss of that assistance which the judge formerly thought himself bound to afford the accused person, more than balances the advantage of a practised defender. Indeed the privilege of reply on the part of the public prosecutor seems a rank injustice. He brings the charge with all his materials prepared; he is bound to establish all the facts clearly, and at once, so as to leave no reasonable doubt. The prisoner replies by his counsel to an accusation made; and if that reply is satisfactory to the jury, the trial should end there, with the summing-up of the evidence, and the exposition of the law by the judge. Can any equitable motive be shown for granting the accuser the last word? I do not think it.

The impression made by the speech of the counsel for the defence on the trial of Chandos Winslow was very great. It carried the jury completely away with it; and one of them whispered to another, that he did not think they need hear any more evidence. It seemed to him that there was no case for the prosecution.

The bar, who regarded it critically, praised it amongst themselves very much, and took especial notice of the manner in which, as one of them expressed it, "Sir ---- got lightly over the soft ground." They were not all sure of Chandos Winslow's innocence; and during the greater part of the speech, they even doubted whether the learned counsel would get a verdict, though they generally agreed he ought. But at the end, when he so boldly declared that he could prove an unexceptionable alibi, their opinions changed, for they knew he was not a rash man, or one to risk the whole success of his case by a mode of defence the slightest shade of suspicion attaching to which, would strengthen every unfavourable impression regarding his client.

The witnesses for the defence were called as soon as the speech was concluded; and all the first were, contrary to general custom, those who could speak to character only. Old servants, old friends of the family, tenants, and neighbours were examined, and each testified with zeal and affection that the prisoner was a man much more likely to save life than to take it. But it was evident that the judge was impatient for the conclusion of the trial; and the questions put for the defence were few and pertinent. A private memorandum found amongst the papers of Mr. Roberts, was then put in and proved to be in his handwriting by his executor, in which the deceased had thus expressed himself: "Mem: to ask Mr. Chandos for some formal notification to respect his rights, and protect them against others in case of need." A few witnesses then proved the terms of affectionate regard on which the prisoner had always lived with his father's steward; and then Lord Overton was called. The judge did not appear to like his evidence being taken; but the counsel for the defence so shaped his questions, that they could not be rejected, and the peer, in mild and dignified terms, very different from his former rude and haughty manner, acknowledged that he had been the aggressor in the quarrel between himself and Mr. Winslow; and that in the whole transaction he had behaved like a gentleman and a man of honour. It required some skill to hang this testimony on to the cause; but that skill was evinced, and the evidence received. All this part of the business was got over very rapidly; but it greatly damaged the case for the prosecution, so much so, that the judge more than once looked to Sergeant ----, as if he were inclined to ask whether they need proceed further.

At length "Thomas Muggeridge" was called, and, to the surprise of Chandos, a man in a plain livery got into the witness-box, and in answer to the questions propounded to him, deposed as follows:--"I am servant to the Honourable and Reverend Horace Fleming, Rector of Northferry. I know the prisoner at the bar by sight. I have once spoken to him. I spoke to him on the night of the fifth of February last. He called and inquired for my master about five o'clock. It might be ten minutes after; for the sun was down. It could not be more; for it was still quite light. I am quite sure of the man; for I had seen him in the streets of Northferry before, and knew him to be Mr. Tracy's head-gardener. I went in and told Mr. Fleming that Mr. Acton wanted to speak with him; and he told me to show him in. When he had been with my master about ten minutes in the library, Mr. Fleming rang, and ordered me to bring lights. The prisoner was then seated on the opposite side of the table to my master. About five minutes after that, my master and the prisoner came out together, and walked through the large rooms which are unfurnished. They had alight with them. My master carried it. I ran to open the doors, and at the same time I said to my master that the gipsey woman, Sally Stanley, wanted to speak to him about her little boy. I had been talking with her at the outer door. Mr. Fleming said he would see her in a few minutes; and when I went back to tell her so, she asked me if I knew who that was talking to my master. I said, 'Oh! quite well;' and she answered, 'No, you don't! That is the son of the late Sir Harry Winslow.' After my master and the prisoner had come out of the empty rooms, they went back into the library and remained there till a quarter to six. The clock struck the quarter as the prisoner went out. He stopped a minute or two at the door to say something to Mr. Fleming. He said, 'It is very unlucky, indeed; but it cannot be helped;' and then he talked a word or two in a language I do not understand. It sounded like Latin; but I cannot say. It was not French; for I have heard that talked. I have not the slightest doubt that the prisoner is the man; I had seen him, half-a-dozen times before in the streets of Northferry; and I had every opportunity of seeing him well that night."

The cross-examination then began by the counsel for the prosecution giving the witness a long exhortation regarding the sanctity of an oath; he then proceeded as follows:--

Counsel.--"How long have you been in the service of the Rev. Mr. Fleming?"

Witness.--"Six years, Sir."

Counsel.--"And how long had you been in Northferry when this event took place?"

Witness.--"A little more than two months."

Counsel.--"Then am I to understand that Mr. Fleming was newly appointed to the rectory at Northferry?"

Witness.--"He had been there about five months at that time; but I remained at the vicarage at Sandbourn for more than two months after he got Northferry."

Counsel.--"Oh! he is a pluralist, is he? Will you swear that it was not half-past five when the prisoner called?"

Witness.--"Yes, I will; for at half-past five it is quite dark."

"Will you swear it was not twenty-five minutes past?" asked the counsel.

Witness.--"Yes, Sir, I think I will, quite safely; for, as I told the other gentleman, though the sun was just down, and it might be a little grayish, yet there was plenty of light, and I could see across the street; for I remember wondering what Higgins, the grocer, was doing with a barrel he was twisting round before his door."

Counsel.--"Now upon your oath, Sir, what time was it really when the prisoner came?"

Witness.--"As near as I can guess, from five to ten minutes after five."

Counsel.--"And on what day did you say?"

Witness.--"On the fifth of February."

Counsel.--"Do you happen to recollect some circumstances that took place at your master's house on the morning of the first of that month?"

Witness, rubbing his head.--"Not quite rightly, Sir. What circumstances do you mean? I don't remember what day the first was."

Counsel.--"Then how do you happen to remember so accurately all that took place upon the fifth?"

Witness, with a laugh.--"Oh, that is easily told. We came back to Sandbourn on the sixth, and I had a precious quantity of packing up to do on the fifth; so I recollect all about that day, well enough."

Counsel.--"Now as to the time when the prisoner went away, are you quite sure that it was not half-past five that struck?"

"Quite, Sir," answered the witness; "I heard the half-hour go while I was talking with the gipsey woman, and the quarter to six just as my master and the prisoner were walking from the library to the hall-door, which I had got open in my hand. I counted three-quarters."

"You can't struggle against that," growled the judge; and the witness was suffered to go down.

"The honourable and reverend Horace Fleming," was then called, and entered the witness-box with a calm, firm step, and a look of placid dignity. "I know the prisoner in the dock," he said, in answer to the counsel's questions. "I never spoke with him but once, but have seen him several times in the grounds of Mr. Tracy, of Northferry. I always believed his real name to be Acton, till the night of the fifth of February, when I was told by my servant that he was the son of the late Sir Harry Winslow. I recollect all the events of that night, perfectly. I went into my library a little before five o'clock, to select some sermons, as I was coming over to my vicarage at Sandbourn on the following day; and about ten minutes after, my servant informed me that Mr. Tracy's head-gardener wanted to speak to me. He was shown into the library by my orders, and I asked him to sit down. I had heard from Mr. Tracy that he was a man of extraordinary information for his station in life; and it did not therefore surprise me to find him mingle very appositely quotations in Latin and Greek with his conversation. At the same time, I will own, both his manner and the request he came to make, seemed to me very strange. He was a good deal excited; and, after apologizing in a hurried manner for taking a liberty, he said, a friend of his--indeed, a relation--had been left, by Sir Harry Winslow, all the books and a great number of the pictures at Winslow Abbey; together with the large book cases, and a great deal of other furniture. Sir William Winslow, he said, was behaving very ill about the whole business; and his friend was anxious to have the various articles removed from Winslow Abbey at once, but had no place to put them in. He then went on to explain to me, that having heard I had several large apartments unfurnished in the rectory, he thought I might be induced to give these articles house-room for a few weeks, till they could be otherwise disposed of. I replied, that the rooms though large for a rectory, were low pitched and difficult of access, so that it would be impossible to place tall bookcases in them, whatever inclination I might have to render the gentleman he mentioned any service. We went to look at the rooms, and he acknowledged that what he had proposed could not be done. He stayed some little time afterwards, conversing on various subjects; and I found him a man of very extensive information, which decidedly induced me to believe that his original station in life was not that which he assumed. He spoke with considerable acerbity of Sir William Winslow; and although he affected a certain degree of roughness of manner, probably to harmonize with his assumed character, it was quite evident to me that he had received the education of a gentleman. I did suspect him to be Mr. Winslow before our conversation was at an end; so much so, indeed, that I asked him if he knew Sir William Winslow was at Northferry House. He replied, Yes; but he should keep out of his way. He left me just as the clock was striking a quarter to six. At the door, I expressed my sorrow that I could not take care of the valuable things he seemed to consider in danger; and he replied, 'It is very unfortunate, indeed; but it cannot be helped: Dominus providebit.'"

Counsel.--"You say his manner was a good deal excited; pray, what do you mean by that expression?"

Witness.--"I mean, hurried, hasty, impatient, agitated. Once he fell into a reverie, which lasted two or three minutes."

Counsel.--"Will you have the goodness to state, Mr. Fleming, with as much precision as possible, at what hour the prisoner visited you?"

"Silence!" cried the judge, in a voice of thunder. "What is all that noise at the door?"

"A man will force his way in, my lord;" said one of the officers, from the other end of the court; "and there is not a bit of room."

"Take him into custody," cried the judge.

"He says, he wishes to give evidence for the prisoner, my lord," shouted the officer; the noise and confusion still continuing.

"He will be called if he is wanted," said the judge. "Take him into custody, if he continues disorderly."

The volunteer witness apparently did so; for there was a momentary scuffle at the door, and then some one was removed by the officers.

The question of the counsel was then repeated to Mr. Fleming; and he replied, "To a minute I cannot exactly say; but it must have been somewhere between five and a quarter past; for the clock upon my library table struck the quarter while he was sitting with me."

Counsel.--"Is that clock very accurate?"

Witness.--"It is set every day by that of the church; which is, I believe, a very good clock."

Counsel.--"Then it was before a quarter to five that he called at your door? How long does it take you generally to walk from the Rectory to Northferry House?"

Witness.--"From a quarter of an hour to twenty minutes by the fields; it would take about half-an-hour by the road."

"And you are quite certain that the prisoner left you at a quarter to six--not before?" said the counsel.

Witness.--"No, rather after; for the clock struck when we were in the passage, and I spoke to him for a short time at the door."

Counsel.--"Then, are you prepared to swear that the prisoner is the man who was with you on that night, as you have described?"

Mr. Fleming turned round his head and gazed for a moment or two at Chandos Winslow, after which he replied, in a firm, clear voice, "I am. He is dressed very differently on the present occasion; but I have not the slightest doubt."

Judge.--"I will put it to the counsel for the prosecution whether they can proceed any further after the evidence they have heard?"

"My lord, I have done," said the counsel for the prosecution. "I am not in the least prepared to invalidate the testimony of the reverend gentleman. His character is above reproach; and I have nothing more to say."

"Gentlemen of the jury," said the judge, "you have heard the evidence; but I will sum up, if you think fit."

"There is not the slightest occasion, my lord," said the foreman of the jury. "It would be only wasting your lordship's time, for we are all of one mind, and have been so for the last half-hour. We therefore beg at once to return a verdict of 'Not guilty.'"

Loud acclamations followed the verdict which were with difficulty repressed; but it was remarked that the face of the accused did not express the slightest pleasure, and that Sir ---- leaned his arms upon the table and covered his eyes with his hands, as if overpowered by deep emotion, or exhausted by his exertions. He was in very bad health at the time; but not a member of the bar had ever seen him give way before, and there was much marvelling. The judge addressed a few words to the late prisoner, declaring that he quitted the court with his honour unimpaired, and without a stain upon his name; but Chandos Winslow only bowed with a grave and stately air, and seemed in no way to participate in the satisfaction which his acquittal had produced in the court.