Mr. Irving. Undoubtedly. (Sensation.)
Mr. Medlam. We have heard something of a piece called The Bells. I seldom attend theatres myself, except in the exercise of my public functions, but I do happen to have seen that particular play on one occasion. Does my memory mislead me in saying, that you committed a brutal and savage murder in the course of the drama?
Mr. Irving said that, as a matter of fact, the murder took place many years before the curtain rose—otherwise, the Member's memory was entirely accurate.
Mr. Medlam. Whenever the murder was committed, it remains undetected, and the criminal escapes all penalty—is not that the case?
Mr. Irving urged that the Nemesis was worked out by the murderer's own conscience.
Mr. Medlam said that was all nonsense; a person's conscience could not be made visible on the stage, and here a murderer was represented as dying several years after his crime, in his own bedroom, respected by all who knew him. Did Mr. Irving intend to tell them that such a spectacle was calculated to deter an intending murderer, or did he not? That was the plain question.
Mr. Irving thought that intending murderers formed so inappreciable an element in his usual audiences, that they might safely be left out of the calculation.
Mr. Medlam. But you might have an intending murderer among your audience, I suppose?
Mr. Irving's reply was not audible in the reporters' gallery.
Mr. Parseeker. I should like to hear what you have to say about duelling, Mr. Irving—I mean, is it, or is it not, a practice sanctioned by the laws of this country?