The Three Clerks by Anthony Trollope

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But Mr. Gitemthruet made his way through artists, reporters, and
the agitated crowd with that happy air of command which can so
easily be assumed by men at a moment's notice, when they feel
themselves to be for that moment of importance. 'Come this way,
Mr. Tudor; follow me and we will get on without any trouble; just
follow me close,' said Mr. Gitemthruet to his client, in a
whisper which was audible to not a few. Tudor, who was essaying,
and not altogether unsuccessfully, to bear the public gaze
undismayed, did as he was bid, and followed Mr. Gitemthruet.

'Now,' said the attorney, 'we'll sit here--Mr. Chaffanbrass will
be close to us, there; so that I can touch him up as we go along;
of course, you know, you can make any suggestion, only you must
do it through me. Here's his lordship; uncommon well he looks,
don't he? You'd hardly believe him to be seventy-seven, but he's
not a day less, if he isn't any more; and he has as much work in
him yet as you or I, pretty nearly. If you want to insure a man's
life, Mr. Tudor, put him on the bench; then he'll never die. We
lawyers are not like bishops, who are always for giving up, and
going out on a pension.'

But Alaric was not at the moment inclined to meditate much on the
long years of judges. He was thinking, or perhaps trying to
think, whether it would not be better for him to save this crowd
that was now gathered together all further trouble, and plead
guilty at once. He knew he was guilty, he could not understand
that it was possible that any juryman should have a doubt about
it; he had taken the money that did not belong to him; that would
be made quite clear; he had taken it, and had not repaid it;
there was the absolute _corpus delicti_ in court, in the shape
of a deficiency of some thousands of pounds. What possible
doubt would there be in the breast of anyone as to his guilt? Why
should he vex his own soul by making himself for a livelong day
the gazing-stock for the multitude? Why should he trouble all
those wigged counsellors, when one word from him would set all at
rest?

'Mr. Gitemthruet, I think I'll plead guilty,' said he.

'Plead what!' said Mr. Gitemthruet, turning round upon his client
with a sharp, angry look. It was the first time that his attorney
had shown any sign of disgust, displeasure, or even disapprobation
since he had taken Alaric's matter in hand. 'Plead what! Ah, you're
joking, I know; upon my soul you gave me a start.'

Alaric endeavoured to explain to him that he was not joking, nor
in a mood to joke; but that he really thought the least vexatious
course would be for him to plead guilty.

'Then I tell you it would be the most vexatious proceeding ever I
heard of in all my practice. But you are in my hands, Mr. Tudor,
and you can't do it. You have done me the honour to come to me,
and now you must be ruled by me. Plead guilty! Why, with such a
case as you have got, you would disgrace yourself for ever if you
did so. Think of your friends, Mr. Tudor, if you won't think of
me or of yourself.'

His lawyer's eloquence converted him, and he resolved that he
would run his chance. During this time all manner of little legal
preliminaries had been going on; and now the court was ready for
business; the jury were in their box, the court-keeper cried
silence, and Mr. Gitemthruet was busy among his papers with
frantic energy. But nothing was yet seen of the great Mr.
Chaffanbrass.

'I believe we may go on with the trial for breach of trust,' said
the judge. 'I do not know why we are waiting.'

Then up and spoke Mr. Younglad, who was Alaric's junior counsel.
Mr. Younglad was a promising common-law barrister, now commencing
his career, of whom his friends were beginning to hope that he
might, if he kept his shoulders well to the collar, at some
distant period make a living out of his profession. He was
between forty and forty-five years of age, and had already
overcome the natural diffidence of youth in addressing a learned
bench and a crowded court.

'My lud,' said Younglad, 'my learned friend, Mr. Chaffanbrass,
who leads for the prisoner, is not yet in court. Perhaps, my lud,
on behalf of my client, I may ask for a few moments' delay.'

'And if Mr. Chaffanbrass has undertaken to lead for the prisoner,
why is he not in court?' said the judge, looking as though he had
uttered a poser which must altogether settle Mr. Younglad's
business.

But Mr. Younglad had not been sitting, and walking and listening,
let alone talking occasionally, in criminal courts, for the last
twenty years, to be settled so easily.

'My lud, if your ludship will indulge me with five minutes'
delay--we will not ask more than five minutes--your ludship
knows, no one better, the very onerous duties--'

'When I was at the bar I took no briefs to which I could not
attend,' said the judge.

'I am sure you did not, my lud; and my learned friend, should he
ever sit in your ludship's seat, will be able to say as much for
himself, when at some future time he may be--; but, my lud, Mr.
Chaffanbrass is now in court.' And as he spoke, Mr. Chaffanbrass,
carrying in his hand a huge old blue bag, which, as he entered,
he took from his clerk's hands, and bearing on the top of his
head a wig that apparently had not been dressed for the last ten
years, made his way in among the barristers, caring little on
whose toes he trod, whose papers he upset, or whom he elbowed on
his road. Mr. Chaffanbrass was the cock of this dunghill, and
well he knew how to make his crowing heard there.

'And now, pray, let us lose no more time,' said the judge.

'My lord, if time has been lost through me, I am very sorry; but
if your lordship's horse had fallen down in the street as mine
did just now----'

'My horse never falls down in the street, Mr. Chaffanbrass.'

'Some beasts, my lord, can always keep their legs under them, and
others can't; and men are pretty much in the same condition. I
hope the former may be the case with your lordship and your
lordship's cob for many years.' The judge, knowing of old that
nothing could prevent Mr. Chaffanbrass from having the last word,
now held his peace, and the trial began.

There are not now too many pages left to us for the completion of
our tale; but, nevertheless, we must say a few words about Mr.
Chaffanbrass. He was one of an order of barristers by no means
yet extinct, but of whom it may be said that their peculiarities
are somewhat less often seen than they were when Mr. Chaffanbrass
was in his prime. He confined his practice almost entirely to one
class of work, the defence, namely, of culprits arraigned for
heavy crimes, and in this he was, if not unrivalled, at least
unequalled. Rivals he had, who, thick as the skins of such men
may be presumed to be, not unfrequently writhed beneath the
lashes which his tongue could inflict. To such a perfection had
he carried his skill and power of fence, so certain was he in
attack, so invulnerable when attacked, that few men cared to come
within the reach of his forensic flail. To the old stagers who
were generally opposed to him, the gentlemen who conducted
prosecutions on the part of the Crown, and customarily spent
their time and skill in trying to hang those marauders on the
public safety whom it was the special business of Mr. Chaffanbrass
to preserve unhung, to these he was, if not civil, at least forbearing;
but when any barrister, who was comparatively a stranger to him,
ventured to oppose him, there was no measure to his impudent
sarcasm and offensive sneers.

Those, however, who most dreaded Mr. Chaffanbrass, and who had
most occasion to do so, were the witnesses. A rival lawyer could
find a protection on the bench when his powers of endurance were
tried too far; but a witness in a court of law has no protection.
He comes there unfeed, without hope of guerdon, to give such
assistance to the State in repressing crime and assisting justice
as his knowledge in this particular case may enable him to
afford; and justice, in order to ascertain whether his testimony
be true, finds it necessary to subject him to torture. One would
naturally imagine that an undisturbed thread of clear evidence
would be best obtained from a man whose position was made easy
and whose mind was not harassed; but this is not the fact: to
turn a witness to good account, he must be badgered this way and
that till he is nearly mad; he must be made a laughingstock for
the court; his very truths must be turned into falsehoods, so
that he may be falsely shamed; he must be accused of all manner
of villany, threatened with all manner of punishment; he must be
made to feel that he has no friend near him, that the world is
all against him; he must be confounded till he forget his right
hand from his left, till his mind be turned into chaos, and his
heart into water; and then let him give his evidence. What will
fall from his lips when in this wretched collapse must be of
special value, for the best talents of practised forensic heroes
are daily used to bring it about; and no member of the Humane
Society interferes to protect the wretch. Some sorts of torture
are, as it were, tacitly allowed even among humane people. Eels
are skinned alive, and witnesses are sacrificed, and no one's
blood curdles at the sight, no soft heart is sickened at the
cruelty.

To apply the thumbscrew, the boot, and the rack to the victim
before him was the work of Mr. Chaffanbrass's life. And it may be
said of him that the labour he delighted in physicked pain. He
was as little averse to this toil as the cat is to that of
catching mice. And, indeed, he was not unlike a cat in his method
of proceeding; for he would, as it were, hold his prey for a
while between his paws, and pat him with gentle taps before he
tore him. He would ask a few civil little questions in his
softest voice, glaring out of his wicked old eye as he did so at
those around him, and then, when he had his mouse well in hand,
out would come his envenomed claw, and the wretched animal would
feel the fatal wound in his tenderest part.

Mankind in general take pleasure in cruelty, though those who are
civilized abstain from it on principle. On the whole Mr.
Chaffanbrass is popular at the Old Bailey. Men congregate to hear
him turn a witness inside out, and chuckle with an inward
pleasure at the success of his cruelty. This Mr. Chaffanbrass
knows, and, like an actor who is kept up to his high mark by the
necessity of maintaining his character, he never allows himself
to grow dull over his work. Therefore Mr. Chaffanbrass bullies
when it is quite unnecessary that he should bully; it is a labour
of love; and though he is now old, and stiff in his joints,
though ease would be dear to him, though like a gladiator
satiated with blood, he would as regards himself be so pleased to
sheathe his sword, yet he never spares himself. He never spares
himself, and he never spares his victim.

As a lawyer, in the broad and high sense of the word, it may be
presumed that Mr. Chaffanbrass knows little or nothing. He has,
indeed, no occasion for such knowledge. His business is to
perplex a witness and bamboozle a jury, and in doing that he is
generally successful. He seldom cares for carrying the judge with
him: such tactics, indeed, as his are not likely to tell upon a
judge. That which he loves is, that a judge should charge against
him, and a jury give a verdict in his favour. When he achieves
that he feels that he has earned his money. Let others, the young
lads and spooneys of his profession, undertake the milk-and-water
work of defending injured innocence; it is all but an insult to
his practised ingenuity to invite his assistance to such
tasteless business. Give him a case in which he has all the world
against him; Justice with her sword raised high to strike; Truth
with open mouth and speaking eyes to tell the bloody tale;
outraged humanity shrieking for punishment; a case from which
Mercy herself, with averted eyes, has loathing turned and bade
her sterner sister do her work; give him such a case as this, and
then you will see Mr. Chaffanbrass in his glory. Let him, by the
use of his high art, rescue from the gallows and turn loose upon
the world the wretch whose hands are reeking with the blood of
father, mother, wife, and brother, and you may see Mr. Chaffanbrass,
elated with conscious worth, rub his happy hands with infinite
complacency. Then will his ambition be satisfied, and he will feel
that in the verdict of the jury he has received the honour due to
his genius. He will have succeeded in turning black into white,
in washing the blackamoor, in dressing in the fair robe of innocence
the foulest, filthiest wretch of his day; and as he returns to his home,
he will be proudly conscious that he is no little man.

In person, however, Mr. Chaffanbrass is a little man, and a very
dirty little man. He has all manner of nasty tricks about him,
which make him a disagreeable neighbour to barristers sitting
near to him. He is profuse with snuff, and very generous with his
handkerchief. He is always at work upon his teeth, which do not
do much credit to his industry. His wig is never at ease upon his
head, but is poked about by him, sometimes over one ear,
sometimes over the other, now on the back of his head, and then
on his nose; and it is impossible to say in which guise he looks
most cruel, most sharp, and most intolerable. His linen is never
clean, his hands never washed, and his clothes apparently never
new. He is about five feet six in height, and even with that
stoops greatly. His custom is to lean forward, resting with both
hands on the sort of desk before him, and then to fix his small
brown basilisk eye on the victim in the box before him. In this
position he will remain unmoved by the hour together, unless the
elevation and fall of his thick eyebrows and the partial closing
of his wicked eyes can be called motion. But his tongue! that
moves; there is the weapon which he knows how to use!

Such is Mr. Chaffanbrass in public life; and those who only know
him in public life can hardly believe that at home he is one of
the most easy, good-tempered, amiable old gentlemen that ever was
pooh-poohed by his grown-up daughters, and occasionally told to
keep himself quiet in a corner. Such, however, is his private
character. Not that he is a fool in his own house; Mr. Chaffanbrass
can never be a fool; but he is so essentially good-natured, so
devoid of any feeling of domestic tyranny, so placid in his
domesticities, that he chooses to be ruled by his own children.
But in his own way he is fond of hospitality; he delights in a cosy
glass of old port with an old friend in whose company he may
be allowed to sit in his old coat and old slippers. He delights
also in his books, in his daughters' music, and in three or four
live pet dogs, and birds, and squirrels, whom morning and night
he feeds with his own hands. He is charitable, too, and subscribes
largely to hospitals founded for the relief of the suffering poor.

Such was Mr. Chaffanbrass, who had been selected by the astute
Mr. Gitemthruet to act as leading counsel on behalf of Alaric. If
any human wisdom could effect the escape of a client in such
jeopardy, the wisdom of Mr. Chaffanbrass would be likely to do
it; but, in truth, the evidence was so strong against him, that
even this Newgate hero almost feared the result.

I will not try the patience of anyone by stating in detail all
the circumstances of the trial. In doing so I should only copy,
or, at any rate, might copy, the proceedings at some of those
modern _causes celebres_ with which all those who love such
subjects are familiar. And why should I force such matters on
those who do not love them? The usual opening speech was made by
the chief man on the prosecuting side, who, in the usual manner,
declared 'that his only object was justice; that his heart bled
within him to see a man of such acknowledged public utility as
Mr. Tudor in such a position; that he sincerely hoped that the
jury might find it possible to acquit him, but that--' And then
went into his 'but' with so much venom that it was clearly
discernible to all, that in spite of his protestations, his heart
was set upon a conviction.

When he had finished, the witnesses for the prosecution were
called--the poor wretches whose fate it was to be impaled alive
that day by Mr. Chaffanbrass. They gave their evidence, and in
due course were impaled. Mr. Chaffanbrass had never been greater.
The day was hot, and he thrust his wig back till it stuck rather
on the top of his coat-collar than on his head; his forehead
seemed to come out like the head of a dog from his kennel, and he
grinned with his black teeth, and his savage eyes twinkled, till
the witnesses sank almost out of sight as they gazed at him.

And yet they had very little to prove, and nothing that he could
disprove. They had to speak merely to certain banking transactions,
to say that certain moneys had been so paid in and so drawn out,
in stating which they had their office books to depend on. But
not the less on this account were they made victims. To one
clerk it was suggested that he might now and then, once in three
months or so, make an error in a figure; and, having acknowledged
this, he was driven about until he admitted that it was very possible
that every entry he made in the bank books in the course of the
year was false. 'And you, such as you,' said Mr. Chaffanbrass, 'do
you dare to come forward to give evidence on commercial affairs?
Go down, sir, and hide your ignominy.' The wretch, convinced that
he was ruined for ever, slunk out of court, and was ashamed to
show himself at his place of business for the next three days.

There were ten or twelve witnesses, all much of the same sort,
who proved among them that this sum of twenty thousand pounds had
been placed at Alaric's disposal, and that now, alas! the twenty
thousand pounds were not forthcoming. It seemed to be a very
simple case; and, to Alaric's own understanding, it seemed
impossible that his counsel should do anything for him. But as
each impaled victim shrank with agonized terror from the torture,
Mr. Gitemthruet would turn round to Alaric and assure him that
they were going on well, quite as well as he had expected. Mr.
Chaffanbrass was really exerting himself; and when Mr. Chaffanbrass
did really exert himself he rarely failed.

And so the long day faded itself away in the hot sweltering
court, and his lordship, at about seven o'clock, declared his
intention of adjourning. Of course a _cause celebre_ such as
this was not going to decide itself in one day. Alaric's guilt
was clear as daylight to all concerned; but a man who had risen
to be a Civil Service Commissioner, and to be entrusted with the
guardianship of twenty thousand pounds, was not to be treated
like a butcher who had merely smothered his wife in an ordinary
way, or a housebreaker who had followed his professional career
to its natural end; more than that was due to the rank and
station of the man, and to the very respectable retaining fee
with which Mr. Gitemthruet had found himself enabled to secure
the venom of Mr. Chaffanbrass. So the jury retired to regale
themselves _en masse_ at a neighbouring coffee-house; Alaric
was again permitted to be at large on bail (the amiable policeman
in mufti still attending him at a distance); and Mr. Chaffanbrass
and his lordship retired to prepare themselves by rest for the
morrow's labours.

But what was Alaric to do? He soon found himself under the
guardianship of the constant Gitemthruet in a neighbouring
tavern, and his cousin Charley was with him. Charley had been in
court the whole day, except that he had twice posted down to the
West End in a cab to let Gertrude and Mrs. Woodward know how
things were going on. He had posted down and posted back again,
and, crowded as the court had been, he had contrived to make his
way in, using that air of authority to which the strongest-minded
policeman will always bow; till at last the very policemen
assisted him, as though he were in some way connected with the
trial.

On his last visit at Gertrude's house he had told her that it was
very improbable that the trial should be finished that day. She
had then said nothing as to Alaric's return to his own house; it
had indeed not occurred to her that he would be at liberty to do
so: Charley at once caught at this, and strongly recommended his
cousin to remain where he was. 'You will gain nothing by going
home,' said he; 'Gertrude does not expect you; Mrs. Woodward is
there; and it will be better for all parties that you should
remain.' Mr. Gitemthruet strongly backed his advice, and Alaric,
so counselled, resolved to remain where he was. Charley promised
to stay with him, and the policeman in mufti, without making any
promise at all, silently acquiesced in the arrangement. Charley
made one more visit to the West, saw Norman at his lodgings, and
Mrs. Woodward and Gertrude in Albany Place, and then returned to
make a night of it with Alaric. We need hardly say that Charley
made a night of it in a very different manner from that to which
he and his brother navvies were so well accustomed.

CHAPTER XLI

THE OLD BAILEY

The next morning, at ten o'clock, the court was again crowded.
The judge was again on his bench, prepared for patient endurance;
and Lord Killtime and Sir Gregory Hardlines were alongside of
him. The jury were again in their box, ready with pen and paper
to give their brightest attention--a brightness which will be dim
enough before the long day be over; the counsel for the
prosecution were rummaging among their papers; the witnesses for
the defence were sitting there among the attorneys, with the
exception of the Honourable Undecimus Scott, who was accommodated
with a seat near the sheriff, and whose heart, to tell the truth,
was sinking somewhat low within his breast, in spite of the glass
of brandy with which he had fortified himself. Alaric was again
present under the wings of Mr. Gitemthruet; and the great Mr.
Chaffanbrass was in his place. He was leaning over a slip of
paper which he held in his hand, and with compressed lips was
meditating his attack upon his enemies; on this occasion his wig
was well over his eyes, and as he peered up from under it to the
judge's face, he cocked his nose with an air of supercilious
contempt for all those who were immediately around him.

It was for him to begin the day's sport by making a speech, not
so much in defence of his client as in accusation of the
prosecutors. 'It had never,' he said, 'been his fate, he might
say his misfortune, to hear a case against a man in a respectable
position, opened by the Crown with such an amount of envenomed
virulence.' He was then reminded that the prosecution was not
carried on by the Crown. 'Then,' said he, 'we may attribute this
virulence to private malice; that it is not to be attributed to
any fear that this English bride should lose her fortune, or that
her French husband should be deprived of any portion of his
spoil, I shall be able to prove to a certainty. Did I allow
myself that audacity of denunciation which my learned friend has
not considered incompatible with the dignity of his new silk
gown? Could I permit myself such latitude of invective as he has
adopted?'--a slight laugh was here heard in the court, and an
involuntary smile played across the judge's face--'yes,'
continued Mr. Chaffanbrass, 'I boldly aver that I have never
forgotten myself, and what is due to humanity, as my learned
friend did in his address to the jury. Gentlemen of the jury, you
will not confound the natural indignation which counsel must feel
when defending innocence from the false attacks, with the
uncalled-for, the unprofessional acerbity which has now been used
in promoting such an accusation as this. I may at times be angry,
when I see mean falsehood before me in vain assuming the garb of
truth--for with such juries as I meet here it generally is in
vain--I may at times forget myself in anger; but, if we talk of
venom, virulence, and eager hostility, I yield the palm, without
a contest, to my learned friend in the new silk gown.'

He then went on to dispose of the witnesses whom they had heard
on the previous day, and expressed a regret that an _expose_
should have been made so disgraceful to the commercial establishments
of this great commercial city. It only showed what was the effect
on such establishments of that undue parsimony which was now
one of the crying evils of the times. Having thus shortly disposed
of them, he came to what all men knew was the real interest of
the day's doings. 'But,' said he, 'the evidence in this case, to
which your attention will be chiefly directed, will be, not that for
the accusation, but that for the defence. It will be my business
to show to you, not only that my client is guiltless, but to what
temptations to be guilty he has been purposely and wickedly
subjected. I shall put into that bar an honourable member of the
House of Commons, who will make some revelations as to his own
life, who will give us an insight into the ways and means of a legislator,
which will probably surprise us all, not excluding his lordship on
the bench. He will be able to explain to us--and I trust I may be
able to induce him to do so, for it is possible that he may be a little
coy--he will be able to explain to us why my client, who is in no
way connected either with the Scotts, or the Golightlys, or the
Figgs, or the Jaquetanapes, why he was made the lady's trustee;
and he will also, perhaps, tell us, after some slight, gentle persuasion,
whether he has himself handled, or attempted to handle, any of
this lady's money.'