The Orange Girl

by Walter Besant

Again, there is in the English mind something particularly repellant in the life and the acts of the informer. Now it cannot be denied that in my Trial, Jenny figured as one who had turned against her old friends and associates; had used her knowledge to secure their arrest; and had induced her mother and sister and at least one of the rogues of the Black Jack, to join her in giving evidence against the conspirators. So that when the news was spread abroad that her house, as well as the Black Jack, had been wrecked and the contents destroyed there was at first a strong feeling among many that this was a kind of wild justice which she deserved, because she ought not to have turned against her friends. As for the man for whose sake she did it, you may be sure that the motive commonly attributed to her was such as would naturally commend itself to the majority. That any woman should be so deeply moved by generosity of heart, by love of justice, by honest indignation against so foul a conspiracy as to resolve, at all risks and hazards, to defeat the object of the villains, and to prevent the destruction of an innocent man, required too high a flight to make it possible to be considered by the common sort—I mean, not the poor, but the common sort of 'respectable' burgesses; the folk of the coffee-house and the club. The world always accepts the worst where it ought to believe the best. And the wickedness of the natural man is never so strongly demonstrated as when he is searching for motives. In a word, it was pretended and believed, that in order to rescue her lover—a broken-down gentleman and a highwayman—from the charge of robbery, which could only be proved by the witnesses taking false names, in order to protect themselves, being unfortunately rogues themselves, she brought a charge against them of conspiracy and exposed their true names and their history, which she could only effect by the knowledge she got from the Black Jack and the assistance of her mother: that her lover, it was true, was cast loose upon the world again; but that the innocence of those four persons, including one most respectable attorney would be established as the noonday clear at the ensuing Criminal Court at the Old Bailey.

Further, it was spread abroad that Jenny had been arrested, at her lover's house in the Rules of the King's Bench, that she had been brought before Sir John Fielding and had been by him committed to Newgate on a charge of receiving stolen goods. Receiving stolen goods! What, however, could one expect from St. Giles's and the daughter of the Black Jack? She who must needs expose the crimes of her friends was now in prison on a charge far more serious than theirs. Receiving stolen goods! Monstrous! And one who entertained even R— P—s at her Assemblies! And she was all the time acting with her mother in receiving stolen goods! After this, what pity could one feel even for a woman so beautiful and so engaging as Jenny Wilmot? But was she so beautiful? Some of the men raised this question. Painted for the stage: all artificial. Was she engaging? She played as she was taught: she smiled and laughed as she was told to smile and laugh. That is not true acting. Alas! Poor Jenny! Poor favourite of the town, how wert thou fallen! And certainly for a day or two the reputation of Jenny was very low indeed.

Suddenly, however, there came a change—to me most welcome, because without doubt the mind of the town was poisoned and prejudiced against Jenny, in whose favour no one ventured to speak.

The first cause of the change was due to a paper—I think, if my memory serves me right, in the Connoisseur. In this paper the 'Case of Clarinda' put forth with great skill and power thinly disguised the history of Jenny. I venture to quote a portion of that paper. As soon as people understood that it was her history that was told the paper flew from hand to hand: everybody in the coffee-houses and the taverns cried out for it when they entered the house. And when it was read a silence fell upon the room and shame upon all hearts. The author, I have always understood, I know not why, was my Lord Brockenhurst, though he never confessed it.

The mottoes—there were two—were as follows:

'Non tali auxilio, non defensoribus istis Tempus eget;'

and

'Tandem desine matrem.... sequi.'

'The Case of Clarinda, whose future yet remains to be determined, is one which ought to reduce to humility those who boast of our civilization and the justice of our institutions. For, certainly, it will be allowed that the first requisite of justice is that the officers of the State shall be sufficiently provided with intelligence, with resources and with encouragement, to search into all cases of alleged crime, and to take care by ascertaining especially the private character and previous history of the witnesses how far they are to be credited. In a word, and speaking of those cases in which human intelligence can be of avail, it should be impossible for an innocent man to be convicted of any crime charged to him. Yet the case of Clarinda shows that such is the condition of the times, such the weakness of our criminal procedure that a conspiracy as vile, as villainous, as was ever concocted out of Hell would have succeeded to the judicial murder of an innocent man, had it not been for the activity, the courage, the lavish expenditure of a woman unaided and single-handed. Her efforts have resulted in the escape of the innocent man and the imprisonment of the conspirators. But at what a price for herself?

'Clarinda is the daughter of a widow who for a long time has kept a tavern in that part of the town known as St. Giles's. It is not pretended that the place is the resort of the Quality. There has been nothing, however, alleged against the conduct of the house or the character of the landlady. Some of the frequenters certainly belonged to the ranks of those who live by their wits. It is not the case, as alleged in some quarters, that Clarinda was ever the companion or the friend of these people. When she was still quite young she was placed in the pit of Drury Lane Theatre as an Orange Girl. Accident drew towards her the attention of the manager, who found her clever and attractive with a lovely face and figure, a charming manner, and a beautiful voice. In a word, the Orange Girl was transferred to the stage, and there became the delight of the town; the greatest favourite of living actresses.