Joseph Gubbins, alias Crabb, alias Bloomfield, alias the Grinner, was charged with stealing a pewter pot, value one shilling, from the rails of a house in Millbank Street. Mr. Slasher prosecuted, and Mr. Crasher defended the prisoner. The case was distinctly proved.
The Judge. Now, Joe, have you anything to say?
Mr. Crasher objected to the prisoner being addressed as Joe. He firmly believed, upon his sacred honour, that such a misdescription vitiated the whole proceedings. At all events he called on the Judge to take a note of the point.
The Judge. I shan't. Stuff and nonsense. The objection is not worth twopence.
Mr. Crasher. It's worth fourpence at least, but it is quite in keeping with all that goes on here that a Judge should not know the value of a Joe.
The Judge. That's slang, and though a Counsel ought to be slangy, a Judge ought not.
Mr. Crasher. I am quite prepared to hear the independence of the Bar assailed, and the freedom of speech, which every authority from Heliogabalus down to Blackstone declares the right of an advocate, stigmatized as slang. But it will not prevent my doing my duty.
The Judge. Do your duty. Who stops you? Do your duty. Who's Heliogabalus, and what's Heliogabalus to do with Joseph Gubbins? This is the way the time of the Court is wasted.
Mr. Crasher. As the Court concedes the point, and calls the prisoner by his name, I shall not pursue the argument.
The Judge. You may do as you like.