The Reminiscences of Sir Henry Hawkins (Baron Brampton) Part 38

Probably you will have no doubt that, by whomsoever this fatal dose was administered, there is only known to medical science one poison which will produce the symptoms of this woman's dying agonies. One thing is surprising at this stage--that immediately after death the door of the house was not locked, and while the body was upon the bed a paper of no importance was found, and that afterwards several relatives went in. The object of the cross-examination was to show that some evil-disposed person had entered the house and placed things there _without any motive_. But whoever may have gone into that house, there was one person who _did not go_--one who, above all others, owed deceased some respect--and that is the prisoner; and unless you can wipe out the half-crown letter from your mind, you would have expected a man on those intimate terms with the poor woman to have gone and made some inquiries concerning her death. He did not go; he was at the Falcon Hotel at Huntingdon, and a telegram was sent telling him to fail not to be at the inquest.

"At the inquest he told a deliberate lie, for he swore he had never written to the woman, or sent her anything, or been on familiar terms with her. He had written to her, and if his letter did not prove familiar terms, there was no meaning in language.

"With regard to the prisoner's alleged handwriting on the packets and papers found under the woman's bed and elsewhere, I must point out to you that here is one on which is written, 'Take in a little water; it is quite harmless. Will come over in a day or two.'

"This was written on a buff paper, which Dr. Stevenson said must have contained 35 grains of strychnine, sufficient to kill thirty-five persons, and the direction written was, 'One dose; take as told.'

"These inscriptions were sworn to by experts as being in the prisoner's handwriting."

Here I pointed out the alleged resemblances in the characters of the letters, so that the jury might judge if the prisoner wrote them.

"If the prisoner wrote the words 'take as told,' you must ask yourselves the meaning of it.

"Also, you will ask whether it was not a little strange that the death occurred on that very Friday night when he said he would go over and see her. Again, the word 'harmless' is of the gravest character, seeing that within the folds of that paper were 35 grains of a deadly powder, which even for rat-powder would be mixed with something else.

"Again, as to motive, upon which so much stress has been laid by the defendant's counsel. If the prisoner had no motive, who else had? Is there a human being on earth who had ill-will towards her, or anything to gain by her death? The learned counsel carefully avoided suggesting any one; nor could he suggest that any one in the neighbourhood wrote the same handwriting as the prisoner. I will dismiss the theory that some one had imitated the prisoner's writing in order to do him an injury, and ask if you can see any reason for any one else giving the woman the powder.

"There is one fact beyond all dispute: in December the prisoner bought a shilling's worth of strychnine. He said he bought it for rats, but no one on the farm had been called to prove it. What has been done with the rest of the powder?

"Where was he on that Friday? His counsel said he could not prove an _alibi_. But if he was at Spaldwick after saying he was going to St.

Neots to see this poor woman, he _could_ have proved it.

"The prisoner's counsel said that the accused did not speak of the woman's murder after the inquest, and said it was not necessary; he did not understand the 'familiar jargon' of the Law Courts.

"The familiar jargon of the Law Courts, gentlemen, is not quite the phrase to use with reference to our judicial proceedings. The Law Courts are the bulwark of our liberties, our life, and our property.

Our welfare would be jeopardized, indeed, if you dismiss what takes place in them as 'familiar jargon.'

"The question is whether the charge has been so reasonably brought home to the prisoner as to lead you in your consciences to believe that he is guilty. If so, it is your duty to G.o.d, your duty to society, and your duty to yourselves, to say so."

Such was the summing up that was arraigned by the humanitarian partisans of the prisoner. If a Judge may not deal with the fallacies of a defence by placing before the jury the true trend of the evidence, what other business has he on the Bench? And it was for thus clearly defining the issue that some one suggested a pet.i.tion for a reprieve, on the ground that the evidence was _purely circ.u.mstantial_, and that my "summing up was against _the weight of the evidence_."

Truly a strange thing that circ.u.mstances by themselves shall have no weight.

But there was another strange incident in this remarkable trial: _the jury thanked me for the pains I had taken in the case_. I told them I looked for no thanks, but was grateful, nevertheless.

I have learnt that the jury, on retiring, deposited every one on a slip of paper the word "Guilty" without any previous consultation--a sufficient indication of their opinion of the _weight_ of the evidence.

This was the last case of any importance which I tried on circuit, and if any trial could show the value of circ.u.mstantial evidence, it was this one. It left the ident.i.ty of the prisoner and the conclusion of fact demonstrable almost to mathematical certainty.

A supposed eye-witness might have said: "I saw him write the paper, and I saw him administer the poison." It would not have added to the weight of the evidence. The witness might have lied.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

A NIGHT AT NOTTINGHAM.

Ever since the establishment of itinerant justices, now considerably over seven hundred years, going circuit has been an interesting and important ceremony, attended with great pomp and circ.u.mstance. I had intended to give a sketch of my own drawing of this great function, but an esteemed friend, who is a lover of the picturesque, has sent me an interesting description of one of my own itineraries, and I insert it with the more pleasure because I could not describe things from his point of view, and even if I could, might lay myself open to the charge of being egotistical.

"When Sir Henry Hawkins stepped into the train with his marshal, he felt all the exuberance which a Judge usually experiences on going circuit.

"Going circuit is a pleasant diversion, and may be a delightful holiday when the weather is fine and cases few. I am not speaking of those northern towns where hard labour is the portion of the judicial personage from the time he opens the Commission to the moment when he turns his back upon his prison-house, but of rural a.s.size towns like Warwick and Bedford or Oakham, where the Judge takes his white gloves, smiles at the grand jury, congratulates them on the state of the calendar, and goes away to some n.o.bleman's seat until such time as he is due to open the Commission in some other circuit paradise where crime does not enter.

"At Lincoln station on this present occasion there is a goodly crowd outside and in, some well dressed and some slatternly, some bareheaded out of respect to the Judge, and others of necessity, but all with a look of profoundest awe.

"But as they wait the arrival of the train, all hearts are beating to see the Judge. Alas for some of them! they will see him too soon and too closely.

"Most conspicuous is the fat and dignified coachman in a powdered wig and tam-o'-shanter cap, and the footman with the important calves.

Cl.u.s.tered along the platform, and pushing their noses between the palisade fencing, seem gathered together all the little boys of Lincoln--that is to say, those who do not live at the top of Steep Hill; for on that sacred eminence, the Mount Zion of Lincolnshire, are the _cloisters_ and the closes, where are situated the residences of Canons, Archdeacons, and other ecclesiastical divinities. The top of this mountain holds no communion with the bottom.

"On the platform--for the signal has been given that the judicial train is entering the station--ranged in due order are the Sheriff of Lincoln, in full robes, his chaplain in full canonicals, and a great many other worthy dignities, which want of s.p.a.ce prevents my mentioning in detail. All are bareheaded, all motionless save those bosoms which heave with the excitement of the occasion.

"Although the chaplain and the Sheriff hold their hats in their hands, it is understood in a well-bred town like Lincoln there will be no cheers, only a deep, respectful silence.

"And so, amid a hush of expectation and a wondering as to whether it's _Orkins_, some saying one thing and some another, the train draws slowly in; a respectful porter, selected for the occasion, opens the door, and out leaps--Jack.

"Then bursts from the crowd a general murmur. 'There 'e is! See 'im, Bill!' cries one. 'There's Orkins! See 'im? There 'e is; that's Orkins behind that there long black devil!'

"He was wrong about the black devil, for it was the Sheriff's Chaplain, who will preach the a.s.size Sermon next Sunday in the Cathedral."

[A somewhat humorous scene once took place at Nottingham. An indefatigable worker on circuit, Sir Henry seemed to have the const.i.tution of the Wandering Jew and the energy of radium. No doubt he had much more patience than was necessary, for it kept him sitting till the small hours of the morning, and jurors-in-waiting and attendants were asleep in all directions. He was the only one wide awake in court.

Even javelin-men fell asleep with their spears in their hands; the marshal dozed in his chair, ushers leaned against the pillars which supported the gallery, while witnesses rubbed their eyes and yawned as they gave their evidence.

A case of trifling importance was proceeding with as steady a pace as though an empire's fate, instead of a butcher's honour, were involved.

One butcher had slandered another butcher.

The art of advocacy was being exercised between an Irishman and a Scotchman, which made the English language quite a hotch-potch of equivocal words and a babel of sounds.

The slander was one that seemed to shake the very foundations of butcherdom throughout the world--namely, an insinuation that the plaintiff had sold Australian mutton for Scotch beef; on the face of it an extraordinary allegation, although it had to find its way for the interpretation of a jury as to its meaning. Amidst this costly international wrangle the Judge kept his temper, occasionally cheering the combatants by saying in an interrogative tone, "Yes?" and in the meanwhile writing the following on a slip of paper which he handed to a friend:--

"GREAT PRIZE COMPEt.i.tION FOR PATIENCE.

Hawkins First prize.

Job Honourable mention."

Much earlier in the evening an application had been made by way of finding out how far the Judge "would go," as the man tests the wheels of an express. Every wheel had a good ring. He was prepared for a long run. Every case was to be struck out if the parties were not there.

After a while a feeling of compunction seemed to come over him.

"One moment," said he, after the case in hand had proceeded for an hour or so. "This case seems as if it will occupy some time; it is the last but three of the common jury cases, and--I mean to say--if the gentlemen of the special jury like to go till--seven o'clock this evening, they may do so, or they may amuse themselves by sitting in court listening to this case."

There was a shuffling of feet and a murmur like that of bees.

"Gentlemen," he said, "do whatever will be most agreeable to yourselves. I only wish to consider your comfort and convenience."

"A d.a.m.ned pretty convenience," said a special juryman, "to be kept here all night!"