But while the applicants have been making, or trying to make, their wants known, the prisoners have arrived. Those admitted to bail have surrendered; others have been brought in the various cupboards of the prisoners’ van; others by different constables. The last ‘small tenement case’ has been disposed of; the inspector on duty for the day has applied for the police summonses; the doors are opened to the public, and No. 1 prisoner is announced. ‘Drunks’ first, with precedence for ladies, is the order.

There is a great deal that is monotonous and disgusting about a long procession of ‘drunk and disorderlies,’ and anyone is bound to be sickened at the repetition. The same evidence in almost the same words is given by constable after constable. Moving among men and women, one cannot be ignorant of the stupidly obscene language that prevails among labouring men, loafers, and immoral women. But one scarcely expects to hear all sorts of men and women credited with the use of this particular kind of language. It may be, and doubtless is, true with regard to some apparently respectable folk, but, on the other hand, I am afraid that some officers adopt a kind of ‘formula.’ Certainly the similarity of language credited to different kinds of people is striking. Another noticeable thing is that men, as a rule, admit the justice of the charge, while women, as a rule, deny its truth point-blank and absolutely, and as often as not bring some counter-charge against the constable, and were they to be believed, we have few honest or decent men among the Metropolitan police.

It is interesting, too, to notice the many and different reasons that are given to the magistrate as excuses for being drunk. Joy or sorrow, ill-health or good health, poverty or prosperity, heat or cold, life or death, friendship or enmity—anything serves, for all the opposing emotions and conditions of life are given as sufficient reasons for getting drunk. Another thing is noticeable with regard to the list of ‘drunks’; on Monday the charge-list is three times the size of any other day, but few women are charged, while on other days they often predominate; on some days the whole of them are women. I have a list before me now of twelve charges, all of them women, and all of them charged with being drunk. Taking one year as a guide, a recent one, when I kept a record of the whole of the charges, I find that about one-third of the charges are women, and two-thirds men; but, judging from my own observation, the women charged on the Monday do not constitute more than one-eighth of that day’s total. I cannot explain why this is; I have conferred with experienced police officers, and they agree that it is so, but, like myself, they fail to find any reasonable explanation of the fact. Although one case of drunkenness closely resembles another, the individuals differ widely, for though the poor in their dirt and misery predominate, yet well-dressed men and women who live in comfort and cleanliness are by no means absent. Ages differ even more widely than circumstances, for it is no uncommon thing to find a youth or girl of sixteen followed by an old man or woman verging on fourscore.

Appearances differ even more widely than circumstances or ages, for while a great number of ordinary-looking individuals are charged, a great number of the most extraordinary-looking men and women stand before our magistrates. Snap-shots of all prisoners at any court for one year would form an interesting collection, and be quite a revelation. The simple ‘drunks’ are soon disposed of by the magistrate, and follow each other in and out of the dock with great rapidity. A stiff fine for the old offenders, a lighter one for the comparatively unknown, and a discharge for those who make their first appearance is the general rule, though some magistrates adopt exactly opposite rules with regard to some first offenders.

A well-dressed man is charged. ‘You are in good circumstances and ought to know better; there is less excuse for you than for the poor and wretched. We look to such as you to set a better example. You must pay ten shillings.’ Thus one magistrate, and it seems right. But another will say: ‘You seem a decent, respectable man; this is the first time you have been locked up and detained. I shall discharge you. Don’t come here again.’ This also seems right, though both cannot be right.

It takes much longer to settle the ‘drunk and disorderly’ charges, for most people who will readily admit the charge of drunkenness will deny the disorderly conduct, especially as the use of bad language generally forms part of the charge. The constable then has to give details, and call witnesses. The prisoner will cross-examine, and in doing so nine times out of ten will manage to corroborate the police, and convict himself or herself. ‘Drunk and assault’ charges take longer still, for no two witnesses give the same account of a scrimmage. It generally happens that no one sees every item from start to finish; but, as a rule, when some blackguard is in the hands of the police, there is no lack of ‘witnesses’ who are ready to perjure themselves in order to get the prisoner off. When one civilian charges another with assault it not infrequently happens that there are accommodating witnesses on each side, and the magistrate has to decide between conflicting perjuries. Common-sense and experience then come to his worship’s aid.

Numbers of lads from twelve to eighteen are charged with playing ‘pitch-and-toss’ or ‘banker’ in the streets. Up till quite recently it took a good time to dispose of such, for they were all innocent, or said they were, for the number of innocent boys charged with gambling is only equalled by the number of innocent women charged with being drunk. One day about eight decent-looking lads were charged. I was speaking to them in the prisoners’ room before they went into court, and gave them a word of good advice. I thought I had made some impression on them, and finally advised them to admit their guilt to the magistrate, and tell him that they would not do it again. To the magistrates’ surprise they all pleaded guilty and expressed penitence but one, who stoutly protested his innocence, when several constables were called to prove the charge. The magistrate told the boys that he was pleased with their honesty, candour, and penitence, and should deal very leniently with them, and, hoping they would keep the promise they had given, discharged them all excepting the ‘innocent’ one. He was fined ten shillings. So lads charged with gambling in the streets pleaded ‘guilty’ at North London till the plea no longer availed.

The more serious charges, as a rule, are held back till the ‘drunks,’ etc., are all disposed of. This is wise, for it allows the majority of the police-officers to go to their duties or rest, and it also allows the majority of prisoners to pay their fines, and go home or to work as the case may be. Then come the charges of felony, embezzlement, burglary, etc. Upon these charges a great deal more time and care are expended, and depositions taken, a task that devolves on the magistrate’s clerk; and a heavy task it is, for some witnesses are supremely stupid, others too clever by far, and very many are so talkative that it is almost impossible to keep them to strict evidence. But whether stupid, clever, or talkative, every bit of evidence is taken down in an accurate, but concise way; indeed, nothing is more remarkable in police court proceedings than the unerring manner in which the clerks note at once every word of the evidence that is germane to the charge. Rarely, very rarely, does it happen that when the clerk reads over the deposition before the witness signs it, he is asked to alter some part of it on the ground that it is not quite correct, and when this does happen it is invariably the fault of the witness. Such charges make a great demand upon the magistrate, and an absolute concentration of mind and memory are required.

Frequently solicitors are engaged, one trying to make the case appear black, and one trying to make it appear white. Very often they are able to twist witnesses at their pleasure, their business being not to arrive at the truth in any matter, but to make the opposing side appear in the wrong. To note and sift the evidence, to study the witnesses, and sweep away the sophistries of the defence or prosecution, is not an easy matter, but the London magistrates do it, and do it to perfection. I do not know any magistrate in whose hands the interests of a prisoner, guilty or innocent, are not absolutely safe. It is, in fact, no uncommon thing for a magistrate to protect a prisoner against himself and against his own or the prosecuting solicitor. To hold the balance of justice evenly day after day in all sorts of charges is not an easy task, but it is done; and the fact that very few of their decisions or sentences are annulled or revoked shows that the manner in which justice is administered in our police courts is beyond question.

Yet it is not a hard-and-fast or a cut-and-dried justice that is administered, for the spirit of the law is sometimes only to be kept by breaking the letter. Some people are for ever excited about disproportionate sentences, and are quite wroth when they read that one man has received a much more severe sentence than another, though both have committed the same class of offence. If the same magistrate has awarded both sentences, then the outcry is great. I once met with a gentleman many miles from London who kept a scrap-book for the purpose; in this he had cuttings from the daily police court news, the sentences and decisions of the different London magistrates. He had them arranged in a most systematic way: the court and magistrate, offence and sentence. Contrasts were shown not only by comparing the sentences of different magistrates for similar offences, but also the varying punishments awarded by the same magistrate for one class of offence. He was rather proud of his work, and protested that law and justice was a complete ‘hotch-potch.’ He said he should like to see justice administered in a more logical and scientific way. I suggested that it might be a good thing to have a phonograph instead of a chief clerk, then every word spoken by witnesses, prosecutor, or prisoner might be spoken into it, and said that it would be easy to have an automatic machine for magistrates, so that by a combination of the two scientific justice might be done. The glory of London police court justice is that it is not administered in a scientific way. God forbid it ever should be! for then injustice would be the rule and not the exception.