As soon as I learned in the winter of 1903 that the Old Bailey was to be demolished and its mementoes sold by auction, I hastened to the historic court-house, armed with a catalogue, to tick off such articles as might be wanted for Madame Tussaud’s.
The grim building brought many impressive scenes to my recollection, and it struck me as a curious freak of fate that the place where house-breakers had been tried and sentenced should now be itself in the hands of the “house-breakers.”
The Royal Arms and the Sword of Justice had been taken down, and the walls behind the judge’s seat had been stripped of their faded hangings, giving to the old court an air of desolation; while the removal of the doors and windows admitted the chilly blasts of that bleak February day.
From court to court I passed, noting the catalogued items that attracted me. I observed the long form, covered with black, time-worn leather, where I sat on the occasion of my first visit, thirty years before, a sensitive and imaginative youth, contemplating with awe and a strange depression of spirits the final stages of a murder trial.
Then, as now, it was the interests of Madame Tussaud’s that sent me to the Old Bailey, and it may seem odd to confess that of all my many duties none ever afforded me less real pleasure than such duties as this.
This time my visit was unexpectedly relieved by an amusing incident which might have served for a scene in a melodrama.
I came upon a bevy of workmen, in charge of a jovial carpenter, improvising a mock trial to pass the time between the conclusion of a meal and the resumption of their work.
Presently I heard a scuffling noise and the voice of someone in distress. A lanky old man was being forced by a couple of fellow workmen into the prisoners’ dock, obviously on some sort of vamped-up charge.
“Silence!” shouted a shrill-voiced little man, wearing an apron and paper cap, who had made himself usher of the court.
I looked towards the jury-box, and there saw a droll-looking individual finishing his dinner out of a newspaper.