present leddy ower much, for it’s no the positive fac of bein’ well pounded that is delechtful to female apprehension—but joost the pleasin sensation of tarror consequent upon bein lenkit or conjoined to a mon of uncontrawled passions and ready fests. The real refinement of sentiment is waiting for the ‘blaw that’s just a comin,’ but never comes. Hech! but I cud tell you a leetle awnecdut—”
We had not the opportunity of hearing the particulars of the anecdote in question, because at this moment the three Judges entered, and took their seats as before. Mr. Shuttlecock, Q.C., was now pointed out to me: he was sitting in the lower seat appropriated to the accommodation of the arch-gladiators in this exciting arena, when resting from their toils. He was a lithe, thin man, with acute features, who must have been well sweated in his youth in legal dunghills, and well dosed with the strong waters of the Reports, to bring him into his actual and effective fighting condition. Candour seemed to be the chief and amiable characteristic of his mind. At the same time, I must admit that there was a certain dulness about his appreciation of the force of his adversary’s arguments, which was not a little surprising, when you considered with what acuteness he followed his own to their remotest consequences. Well! I suppose it is all right that Mr. Barber, fore-judged as he is, should have some person to stand up for him, and apologise to the human race in his name for the obloquy he has brought upon our common nature. So Mr. Shuttlecock may begin as soon as he likes. Mr. Shuttlecock did so.
“May it please you, my Luds and Gentlemen of the Jury. I wish I could stand up before you to-day, and submit to your judgment such evidence as would entirely exonerate my client, Mr. Augustus Barber, the Respondent in this case, from the many and serious charges which have been brought against him by his wife, the unfortunate Petitioner, who has been driven, by his desertion, to apply for relief to this Court, and to you. I wish I could do this, Gentlemen; but I tell you at once, frankly and sincerely, that I cannot. I am not in a condition to tell you that Mr. Barber has been in all respects a pattern of conjugal virtue—a model husband—a man whose example you would hold forth to young men about to marry for their instruction and imitation. I think you will agree with me when I say, that no amount of levity—no number of petty domestic vexations, however sedulously and for however long a period consistently and systematically inflicted by the wife upon the husband, justify any Englishman who, for the time being, may be acting in the latter capacity, in proceeding so far as actual desertion of the domestic hearth. I at once fully and heartily condemn Mr. Barber in this respect, that contrary to his faith plighted at the altar—in defiance of the laws of his country—in contempt of the usages of society—he has abandoned that lady whom he had sworn to cherish and protect, no matter what may have been the provocations he received from her in the course of their married life. Still less can I attempt to justify him when his desertion assumes so flagrant a form as that actually charged. No, Gentlemen, it is the duty of an advocate to guide, not to mislead—or rather to endeavour to mislead—a British Jury, though the endeavour would, I am sure, only result in his own confusion. It is the point of honour amongst the gentlemen whom I see around me, and you see before you, in all cases to submit the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, to the consideration of the Jury, and that I will endeavour to do this day. We cannot, I fear, help arriving at the conclusion, that in one important particular Mr. Barber has violated the nuptial pledge; and, therefore, your verdict must be for the lady on that point. I can’t struggle against such a decision. I haven’t a word to say against it. Mrs. Barber is fully entitled to ask for a judicial separation—but not for an absolute dissolution of the marriage—not for an absolute dissolution. In order to do so, she must prove a great deal more than she has been able to prove—for assertions, Gentlemen, are not facts. I fear that the ‘ipsa dixit,’ or ‘she said it,’ is a still more unstable foundation on which to found a decision than the ‘ipse dixit,’ or ‘he said it.’ In either case you, Gentlemen, I am sure, will not be content with the bare assertions of the parties most deeply interested in the event of this trial; but like twelve calm, dispassionate Englishmen, well versed in the ways of the world, will seek for corroboration and external evidence before you arrive at a conclusion which will certainly be pregnant with misery or happiness to the two parties who crave your judgment this day.”
There was considerable moral dignity about the manner in which Mr. Shuttlecock in the first part of his opening evacuated the untenable post, and repudiated all complicity (even as a professional accessory after the fact) with the abandoned husband. In point of fact, when he washed his hands with imaginary soap, and then with a stern Roman gesture waved Mr. Barber away from his chambers, and denied him the benefit of his legal assistance, the learned gentleman carried the Court with him, and I think predisposed the Jury to listen to his after-statements. He might certainly be mistaken himself—his mind might be loaded with prejudice, but all Mr. Shuttlecock desired was fair play.
“Now, Gentlemen, as the law actually stands, and as I am sure his Ludship will tell you, the wife who seeks for an absolute dissolution of the marriage must prove not only what we admit on the first issue, but furthermore make out to the satisfaction of the Jury that her husband has systematically, and cruelly ill-used her. I am not speaking of mere tiffs, mere petty differences of opinion—of the amantium iræ which as the Poet tells us, and tells us truly, are but the renewals of love. It won’t suffice to dissolve an English marriage that the husband did upon one occasion refuse to accompany his wife to hear the Band play at Kensington Gardens, and upon another insisted upon taking her to Broadstairs instead of Brighton. If such outrages as these, however they may rankle in the female mind, were held sufficient to procure a dissolution of our marriages, I fear that many of us would be cast back upon cold comfortless celibacy whilst we were engaged