It is due to Mr. Newboy, the counsel for the prosecution in the great case of Regina v. Simpleman, to say that he had only lately been called to the Bar, and only “instructed,” as the prisoner was placed in the dock. Consequently, he had not had time to read his brief. I do not know that that was a disadvantage, inasmuch as the brief consisted in what purported to be a copy of the depositions so illegibly scrawled that it would have
required the most intense study to make out the meaning of a single line.
Mr. Newboy was by no means devoid of ability; but no amount of ability would give a man a knowledge of the facts of a case which were never communicated to him. In its simplicity the prosecution was beautifully commonplace, and five minutes’ consideration would have been sufficient to enable counsel to master the details and be prepared to meet the defence. Alas, for the lack of those five minutes! The more Mr. Newboy looked at the writing (?) the more confused he got. All he could make out was his own name, and Reg. v. Somebody on the back.
Now it happened that Mr. Alibi saw the difficulty in which Mr. Newboy was, and knowing that his, Alibi’s, clerk, was not remarkable for penmanship, handed to the learned counsel at the last moment, when the last juryman was being bawled at with the “well and truly try,” a copy of the depositions.
The first name at the top of the first page which caught the eye of the learned counsel, was that of the prisoner; for the depositions commence in such a way as to show the name of the prisoner in close proximity to, if not among the names of witnesses.
So Mr. Newboy, in his confusion, taking the name of the prisoner as his first witness, shouted out in a bold voice, to give himself courage, “Simon Simpleman.”
“’Ere!” answered the prisoner.
The learned Judge was a little astonished; and, although, he had got his criminal law up with remarkable rapidity, his lordship knew well enough that you cannot call the prisoner as a witness either for or against himself. Mr. Newboy perceived his mistake and apologised.
The laugh, of course, went round against him; and when it got to Mr. Nimble, that merry gentleman slid it into the jury-box with a turn of his eyes and a twist of his mouth. The counsel for the prosecution being by this time pretty considerably confused, and not being able to make out the name of a single witness on the depositions (there were only two) called out, “The Prosecutor.”
“Here, I be,” said a voice from the crowd in a tone which provoked more laughter, all of which was turned into the jury-box by Mr. Nimble. “Here I be” struggled manfully with all his might and main to push through the miscellaneous crowd of all sorts and conditions that hemmed him in. All the arrangements at the Old Bailey, like the arrangements at most Courts, are expressly devised for the inconvenience of those who have business there.