A Philadelphia Lawyer in the London Courts

by Thomas Leaming

The opening of court in the morning and after luncheon is a curious ceremony. The Bar and audience rise and, through a door corresponding to the one by which the visitor has reached the dais, enter the two sheriffs gowned in flowing dark blue robes trimmed with fur. Then comes the under-sheriff in a very smart black velvet knee breeches suit, white ruffled shirt, white stockings, silver buckled shoes, cocked hat under arm and sword at side. The sheriffs bow in ushering to his seat the judge, who is arrayed in wig and robe, which, in the case of the Lord Chief Justice, or one of the judges of the High Court, is of brilliant scarlet with a dark blue sash over one shoulder, or in the case of the Common Sergeant, is of sombre black. Each member of the court carries the bouquet referred to and the whole group afford a dash of color strong in contrast with the dark setting. The judge, having seated himself in a chair—so cumbersome as to require a little track to roll it forward sufficiently close to the desk—the sheriffs dispose themselves in the seats not occupied by the judge or his guest, and, later, they quietly withdraw. They have no part in the proceedings, their only function being to usher in and out the judges, and to entertain them at luncheon—the judges being by custom their guests. The judge having taken his seat, the Bar and public do the same and the business begins. There are usually two such courts sitting at the Old Bailey—sometimes three of them.

At lunch time the sheriffs again escort the judges from their seats, and all the judges, sheriffs and under-sheriffs, and any guests they may invite, assemble in the dining-room of the court house for an excellent, substantial luncheon served by butler and footman in blue liveries with brass buttons, knee breeches and white stockings. The luncheon table looks odd with the varied costumes, the rich blues, the bright scarlets and the wigs of the party, who, no longer on duty, relax into jolly sociability. Indeed one can not escape the impression that he has in some way joined a group of "supes" from the opera who are snatching a light supper between the choruses. These are some of the picturesque features of the Old Bailey which, at the same time, is the theatre of the most sensible and enlightened application of law to the every day affairs of the largest aggregation of human beings the world has ever seen.

While enjoying a cigar after luncheon with one of the under-sheriffs, the voice of the Common Serjeant or Recorder is heard at the door of the smoking room. Robed and armed with his bouquet, he smilingly inquires if there are no sheriffs to escort him into court. A hasty buckling on of sword, a snatching up of his bouquet and a little dusting of cigar ashes from his velvet knee breeches, prepares the under-sheriff for the function, and, preceded by the sheriffs in their blue gowns, his Lordship bringing up the rear, the little procession starts along the corridor and enters the door leading to the judges' dais. The under-sheriff shortly returns to finish his cigar but the guest tarries beside the judge.

The first case was a minor one—a charge of breaking and entering a shop and stealing some goods. His name having been called, the prisoner suddenly popped up into the dock at the far end of the room with police officers on either side of him. Asked if he objected to any of the jurors already seated in the box, he replied in the negative and the trial began. The junior barrister opened very briefly, merely stating the name, date, locality and nature of the charge. Following him the senior barrister gave the details at much greater length. These barristers were not, as with us, district attorneys or state prosecutors. They are either retained by the Treasury or, as the case may be, represent private prosecutors. The judge was fully conversant with the evidence, as he had before him the depositions taken at the Magistrate's Court.

In an English court, when counsel has finished the direct examination of a witness, he does not say, as we do, "cross-examine" or "the witness is yours", he simply resumes his seat as the signal for the other side to cross-examine. Sometimes, a pause of the voice simultaneously with a stooping of the barrister's head for a word of suggestion from the solicitor below, leads his opponent to believe he is seating himself and to begin to cross-examine prematurely.

Although in this case the plea was "not guilty," the charge was practically undefended, and a prompt verdict of "guilty" followed. Then came the important query from the judge to the police as to whether the prisoner "is known"—was there a record of former convictions? Learning that there was not, a sentence to eighteen calendar months at hard labor followed a caution that if he should be brought again before the court, he would be sent to penal servitude. With a servile "If your Lordship pleases" he turned to dive down the stairs, and, as he did so, with a grinning leer, seized his left hand in his right and cordially shook hands with himself—a bit of a gesticular slang which led one to think that the police were not very well informed as to his previous experiences.

The next was a more important case. A clever but sinister-looking Belgian, the master of several languages, was charged with obtaining a valuable pair of diamond earrings by an ingenious swindle. Having a slight acquaintance with a dealer in stones, he telephoned that a friend of his was coming over to London from Paris to join his wife and desired to present her with a pair of earrings. If the dealer had suitable stones and would allow a commission, the Belgian said he would try to effect a sale for him. He, therefore, arranged that the dealer, at a fixed hour the following day, should bring the stones to his lodgings for the Frenchman's inspection. The appointment was kept and the two men waited for some time for the Frenchman. Finally the latter's wife appeared and explained to the Belgian in French—which the Englishman did not understand—that her husband had been detained but would come by a later train, whereupon she withdrew, and the conversation was interpreted to the disappointed dealer.

Then the Belgian suggested that, if the dealer cared to leave the stones, he would give a receipt for them and would either return them or the money by half-past four. The dealer replied that although he was quite willing to do so, he had partners whose interest he must consult. The Belgian then produced a certificate of stock in some Newfoundland Company, saying that it was worth as much as the diamonds. The dealer consented to receive this as security and he then left. Just before half-past four he was called up on the telephone and told by the Belgian that he had made the sale and had received the money in French notes which he would have changed into English money. The dealer told him to bring the French notes, which would be acceptable to him. That, of course, was the last he ever saw of the money, the diamonds or the swindler, until the latter was arrested some months later.

The leading nature of the direct examination, so marked in all English courts, was conspicuous in such questions as the following:

Q: "Did the defendant telephone you about 4.15?"

A: "Yes, sir."

Q: "Did you recognize his voice?"

A: "Yes, sir."

Q: "Did you send an assistant to the defendant's flat with a letter and was it returned to you unopened?"

A: "Yes, sir."