The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit Part 43

The learned Judge was a little astonished; and, although, he had got his criminal law up with remarkable rapidity, his lords.h.i.+p knew well enough that you cannot call the prisoner as a witness either for or against himself. Mr. Newboy perceived his mistake and apologised. The laugh, of course, went round against him; and when it got to Mr. Nimble, that merry gentleman slid it into the jury-box with a turn of his eyes and a twist of his mouth. The counsel for the prosecution being by this time pretty considerably confused, and not being able to make out the name of a single witness on the depositions (there were only two) called out, "The Prosecutor."

"Here, I be," said a voice from the crowd in a tone which provoked more laughter, all of which was turned into the jury-box by Mr. Nimble. "Here I be" struggled manfully with all his might and main to push through the miscellaneous crowd of all sorts and conditions that hemmed him in. All the arrangements at the Old Bailey, like the arrangements at most Courts, are expressly devised for the inconvenience of those who have business there.

All eyes were turned towards "_Here I be_," as, after much pus.h.i.+ng and struggling as though he were in a football match, he was thrust headlong forward by three policemen and the crier into the body of the Court.

There he stood utterly confounded by the treatment he had undergone and the sight that presented itself to his astonished gaze. Opera-gla.s.ses were turned on him from the boxes, the gentlemen on the grand tier strained their necks in order to catch a glimpse of him; the pit, filled for the most part with young barristers, was in suppressed ecstasies; while the gallery, packed to the utmost limit of its capacity, broke out into unrestrained laughter. I say, unrestrained; but as the Press truly observed in the evening papers, "it was immediately suppressed by the Usher."

Mr. b.u.mpkin climbed into the witness-box (as though he were going up a rick), which was situated between the Judge and the jury. His appearance again provoked a t.i.tter through the Court; but it was not loud enough to call for any further measure of suppression than the usual "Si-lence!"

loudly articulated in two widely separated syllables by the crier, who had no sooner p.r.o.nounced it than he turned his face from the learned Judge and pressed his hand tightly against his mouth, straining his eyes as if he had swallowed a crown-piece. Mr. b.u.mpkin wore his long drab frock overcoat, with the waist high up and its large flaps; his h.e.l.l-fire waistcoat, his trousers of corduroy, and his s.h.i.+rt-collar, got up expressly for the occasion as though he had been a prime minister. The ends of his neckerchief bore no inconsiderable likeness to two well-grown carrots. In his two hands he carefully nursed his large-brimmed well-shaped white beaver hat; a useful article to hold in one's hands when there is any danger of nervousness, for nothing is so hard to get rid of as one's hands. I am not sure that Mr. b.u.mpkin was nervous. He was a brave self-contained man, who had fought the world and conquered.

His maxim was, "right is right," and "wrong is no man's right." He was of the upright and down-straight character, and didn't care "for all the counsellors in the kingdom." And why should he? His cause was good, his conscience clear, and the story he had to tell plain and "straightforrard" as himself. No wonder then that his face beamed with a good old country smile, such as he would wear at an exhibition where he could show the largest "turmut as ever wur growed." That was the sort of smile he turned upon the audience. And as the audience looked at the "turmut," it felt that it was indeed the most extraordinary specimen of field culture it had ever beheld, and worthy of the first prize.

"What is your name?" inquired Mr. Newboy; "I mustn't lead."

"b.u.mpkin, and I bearned asheamed on 'im," answered the bold farmer.

"Never mind whether you are ashamed or not," interposed Mr. Nimble; "just answer the question."

"You must answer," remarked the learned Judge, "not make a speech."

"Zackly, sir," said b.u.mpkin, pulling at his hair.

Another t.i.tter. The jury t.i.tter and hold down their heads. Evidently there's fun in the case.

Then Mr. Newboy questioned him about the occurrence; asked him if he recollected such a day, and where he had been, and where he was going, and a variety of other questions; the answer to every one of which provoked fresh laughter; until, after much floundering on the part of both himself and Mr. Newboy, as though they were engaged in a wrestling match, he was asked by the learned Judge "to tell them exactly what happened. Let him tell his own story," said the Judge.

"Ha!" said everybody; "now we shall hear something!"

"I wur a gwine," began b.u.mpkin, "hoame-"

"That's not evidence," said Mr. Nimble.

"How so?" asks the Judge.

"It doesn't matter where he was going to, my lord, but where he was!"

"Well, that is so," says the Judge; "you mustn't tell us, Mr. b.u.mpkin, whither you were going, but where you were!"

b.u.mpkin scratched his head; there were too many where's for him.

"Can't yon tell us," says Mr. Newboy, "where you were?"

"Where I were?" says b.u.mpkin.

A roar of laughter greeted this statement. Mr. Nimble turning it into the jury-box like a flood.

"I wur in Lunnun-"

"Yes-yes," says his counsel; "but what locality?"

You might just as well have put him under a mangle, as to try to get evidence out of him like that.

"Look," says the Judge, "attend to me; if you go on like that, you will not be allowed your expenses."

"What took place?" asks his counsel; "can't you tell us, man?"

"Why the thief cotch-"

"I object," says Mr. Nimble; "you mustn't call him a thief; it is for the jury, my lord, to determine that."

"That is so," says my lord; "you mustn't call him a thief, Mr. b.u.mpkin."

"Beg pardon, your lord; but ur stole my watch."

"No-no," says Mr. Newboy; "took your watch."

"An if ur took un, ur stole un, I allows," says b.u.mpkin; "for I never gin it to un."

There was so much laughter that for some time nothing further was said; but every audience knows better than to check the source of merriment by a continued uproar; so it waited for another supply.

"You must confine yourself," says the Judge, "to telling us what took place."

"I'll spak truth and sheam t' devil," says b.u.mpkin.

"Now go on," says Newboy.

"The thief stole my watch, and that be t' plain English on 't."

"I shall have to commit you to prison," says the Judge, "if you go on like that; remember you are upon your oath, and it's a very serious thing-serious for you and serious for the young man at the bar."

At these touching words, the young man at the bar burst out crying, said "he was a respectable man, and it was all got up against him;" whereupon Mr. Nimble said "he must be quiet, and that his lords.h.i.+p and the gentlemen in the box would take care of him and not allow him to be trampled on."

"You are liable," said the Judge, "to be prosecuted for perjury if you do not tell the truth."

"Well, then, your lord, if a man maun goo to prison for losin' his watch, I'll goo that's all; but that ere man stole un."

Mr. Newboy: "He took it, did he?"

"I object," said Mr. Nimble; "that is a leading question."

"Yes," said the Judge; "I think that is rather leading," Mr. Newboy; "you may vary the form though, and ask him whether the prisoner stole it."

"Really, my lord," said Mr. Nimble, "that, with very great respect, is as leading as the other form."

"Not quite, I think, Mr. Nimble. You see in the other form, you make a positive a.s.sertion that he did steal it; in this, you merely ask the question."

And I saw that this was a very keen and subtle distinction, such as could only be drawn by a Chancery Judge.

"Would it not be better, my lord, if he told us what took place?"