The Rising of the Court | Page 4

the Court." I come like a shot out of my nightmare,
or trance, or what you will, and we all rise as the magistrate takes his
seat. None of us noticed him come in, but he's there, and I've a quaint
idea that he bowed to his audience. Kindly, humorous Mr Isaacs, whom
we have lost, always gave me that idea. And, while he looks over his
papers, the women seem to group themselves, unconsciously as it were,
with Mrs Johnson as front centre, as though they depended on her in
some vague way. She has slept it off and tidied, or been tidied, up, and
is as clear-headed as she ever will be. Crouching directly behind her,
supported and comforted on one side by One-Eyed Kate, and on the
other by Cock-Eyed Sal, is the poor bedraggled little resister of the
Law, sobbing convulsively, her breasts and thin shoulders heaving and
shaking under her openwork blouse--the girl who seemed to pity Jesus
of Nazareth last night in her cell. There's very little inciting to resist
about her now. Most women can cry when they like, I know, and many
have cried men to jail and the gallows; but here in this place, if a
woman's tears can avail her anything, who, save perhaps a police-court
solicitor and gentleman-by-Act-of-Parliament, would, or dare, raise a
sneer.

I wonder what the Nazarene would have to say about it if He came in to
speak for her. But probably they'd send Him to the receiving house as a
person of unsound mind, or give Him worse punishment for
drunkenness and contempt of court.
His Worship looks up.
Mrs Johnson (from the dock): "Good morning, Mr Isaacs. How do you
do? You're looking very well this morning, Mr Isaacs."
His Worship (from the Bench): "Thank you, Mrs Johnson. I'm feeling
very well this, morning."
There's a pause, but there is no "laughter." The would-be satellites don't
know whom the laugh might be against. His Worship bends over the
papers again, and I can see that he is having trouble with that quaintly
humorous and kindly smile, or grin, of his. He has as hard a job to
control his smile and get it off his face as some magistrates have to get
a smile on to theirs. And there's a case coming by and by that he'll have
to look a bit serious over. However--
"Jane Johnson!"
Mrs Johnson is here present, and reminds the Sergeant that she is.
Then begins, or does begin in most courts, the same dreary old drone,
like the giving out of a hymn, of the same dreary old charge:
"You -- Are -- Charged -- With -- Being -- Drunk -- And -- Disorderly
-- In -- Such -- And -- Such -- A -- Street -- How -- Do -- You -- Plead
-- Guilty -- Or -- Not -- Guilty?" But they are less orthodox here. The
"disorderly" has dropped out of Mrs Johnson's charge somehow, on the
way from the charge room. I don't know what has been going on behind
the scenes, but, anyway, it is Christmas-time, and the Sergeant seems
anxious to let Mrs Johnson off lightly. It means anything from
twenty-four hours or five shillings to three months on the Island for her.
The lawyers and the police--especially the lawyers--are secretly afraid
of Mrs Johnson.
However, again---
The Sergeant: "This woman has not been here for six weeks, your
Worship."
Mrs Johnson (who has him set and has been waiting for him for a year
or so): "It's a damned lie, Mr Isaacs. I was here last Wednesday!" Then,
after a horrified pause in the Court: "But I beg your pardon, Mr Isaacs."
His Worship's head goes down again. The "laughter" doesn't come here,

either. There is a whispered consultation, and (it being Christmas-time)
they compromise with Mrs Johnson for "five shillings or the risin'," and
she thanks his Worship and is escorted out, rather more hurriedly than
is comportable with her dignity, for she remarks about it.
The members of the Johnsonian sisterhood have reason to be thankful
for the "lift" she has given them, for they all get off lightly, and even
the awful resister of Law-an'-order is forgiven. Mrs Johnson has money
and is waiting outside to stand beers for them; she always shouts for the
boys when she has it. And--what good does it all do?
It is very hard to touch the heart of a woman who is down, though they
are intensely sympathetic amongst themselves. It is nearly as hard as it
is to combat the pride of a hard-working woman in poverty. It was such
women as Mrs Johnson, One-Eyed Kate, and their sisters who led Paris
to Versailles; and a King and a Queen died for