It showed, in the Learned Judge's opinion, that the Navy should at once be strengthened, the Board Schools increased, and the Asylums for all those who were mentally afflicted, and therefore so unlike themselves, should immediately be enlarged throughout the country, in order to cope with the extra call upon them that such a state of things as they had listened to that day might necessitate.
Furthermore, the Learned Judge remembered with gratitude the many petitions to the Royal Family, who, he was thankful to note, were never afflicted or influenced by any imagination whatsoever; therefore he begged that those petitions might be increased fourfold for—for—reasons which at that moment he found it impossible to explain.
He furthermore would remember with gratitude, and would increase if possible, the numbers of institutions for the blind, not to mention the deaf. During this action they had listened in very truth, and not unmoved, to people who had been blind. (Here a faint titter being heard in Court, the Learned Judge added reprovingly—)
He did not intend his last remark as a joke, having regard to the evidence one man had given. No, it was no matter upon which to joke. The blind were there before them, and he had used the expression the deaf, inasmuch that some of those before him had heard too much.
To hear too much was worse than not hearing enough. One of the Jury at this critical point, as if speaking upon impulse: "Hear! hear!"
His Lordship paused in passionate surprise; indignantly wondering whether or not the Gentleman of the Jury, whose face appeared to be covered with purposeless pimples, had really intended his last remark to be ambiguous.
Upon feeling himself reassured upon this point, the Learned Judge remarked: "Any more unseemly interruptions of this nature, and I shall clear the Court, not—ahem!—personally, but—er—vicariously, so to speak. Where was I?" (consulting notes). "Yes, at the House of Commons. The House of Commons, whose common sense as a body have helped to make the—ahem!—Irish and the English as one."
Where was the House of Commons now? He was thankful to say, where it had always been.
Would any one of the Members of that House believe that Oliver Cromwell, who had stood so long outside, had condescended to alight from his pedestal to shout vulgar abuse and brawling words at King Richard and King Charles, such as "Ha! ha!" and "Ho!"? He trusted not, he believed not; but if, indeed, such a thing could be possible, he trusted that Oliver Cromwell, if he could by special Providence be now actually alive, would verily with laughter say, "Ha! ha!" and even "Ho! ho!" to the ridiculous statements they had heard that day. In face of the many indignities offered to them he was thankful to note, since it was admitted in evidence, that King Richard, and especially King Charles, had kept their heads. He, the Learned Judge, again expressed a hope that no one would interpret his last remark as being facetious. Nothing was at that moment further from his thoughts. To joke in a Court of Law, or even attempt to joke beneath the emblazoned sign of the Lion and Unicorn somewhere above his head, would be to mock that noble animal (he referred to the Lion, of course), whose other effigy in Court formed such a striking contrast to the undignified attitude of those who had preferred such fanciful charges against this nobly statured beast, whose presence there among them, as Counsel had observed, was only rendered possible by the separate removal of five pairs of folding doors.
"Little imagination was required to realise that the stony stare of this noble animal must, Medusa-like, have become even more stony from horror and abhorrence at the eccentric things it could not hear, uttered concerning himself, I mean itself, that day.