The Tables Turned | Page 8

Pot. No; we thought it better not to do so.
_Mr. H_. Did they oppose your search?
Pot. No.
_Mr. H_. What did they do?
Pot. Well, they took grinders at me and said, "Sold!"
_Mr. H_. Meaning, doubtless, that they had had an inkling of your
search and had sold the arms?
Pot. So we gathered.
_J. N_. (_writing_). "They did not find the arms because they had been
sold."
_Mr. H_. Well, Constable, that will do.

_J. N_. Prisoner, do you wish to ask the Constable any questions?
_J. F_. Well, I don't know. I strongly suspect that you have made up
your mind which way the jury shall make up their minds, so it isn't
much use. However, I will ask him three questions. Constable Potlegoff,
at how many do you estimate the dense crowd at Beadon Road, when I
obstructed?
Pot. Upwards of a thousand.
_J. F_. H'm; a good meeting! How many were present at that meeting
of the Socialist League where we were plotting to make the Queen take
in washing?
Pot. Upwards of two hundred.
_J. F_. Lastly, when I told you in the public-house that we were two
millions strong, were you drunk or sober?
Pot. Sober.
_J. F_. H'm! It's a matter of opinion perhaps as to when a man is drunk.
Was I sober?
Pot. No; drunk.
_J. F_. H'm! So I should think. That'll do, Mr. Potlegoff; I won't
muddle your "Rent-of-Ability" any more. Good bye.
[SERGEANT STICKTOIT called.
_Mr. H_. Have you heard the prisoner speaking?
St. Yes.
_Mr. H_. Where?
St. At Beadon Road amongst other places: that's where I took him.

_Mr. H_. What was he doing?
St. Standing on a stool, speaking
_Mr. H_. Yes; speaking: to how many people?
St. About a thousand.
_Mr. H_. Could you get near him?
St. Nowhere near.
_Mr. H_. Well, can you tell me what he was saying?
St. Well, he said that all the rich people and all the shopkeepers
(_glancing at the Jury_) should be disemboweled and flayed alive, and
that all arrangements had been made for doing it, if only the
workingmen would combine. He then went into details as to where
various detachments were to meet in order to take the Bank of England
and capture the Queen. He also threatened to smash Mr. Justice
Nupkins' "Rent-of-Ability," by which I understood him to mean his
skull.
_J. N_. His--my brains, you mean!
St. No, my lord; for he said that you--that he--hadn't any brains.
_Mr. H_. Did you find any documents or papers on him when he was
arrested?
St. Yes; he had a bundle of papers with him.
_Mr. H_. Like this? (showing a number of "_Commonweal_")
St. Yes.
_J. F_. (_Aside_: Two quires that I couldn't sell, damn it!)
_Mr. H_. We put this paper in, my lord. Your lordship will notice the

vileness of the incendiarism contained in it. I specially draw your
attention to this article by one Bax, who as you will see, is familiar with
the use of dynamite to a fearful extent. (J. N. _reads, muttering_ "Curse
of Civilisation.") Gentlemen of the Jury that is our case.
_J. N_. (looking up from "_Commonweal_"). Prisoner at the bar, what
have you to say? Do you call witnesses?
_J. F_. Yes, I call witnesses, but I haven't much to say. I am accused of
obstruction, but I shan't argue that point, as I know that I should do
myself no good by proving that I had not obstructed. I am accused of
being a Socialist and a revolutionist. Well, if you, my lord, and you,
gentlemen of the Jury, and the classes to which you belong, knew what
Socialism means--and I fear you take some pains not to--you would
also know what the condition of things is now, and how necessary
revolution is. So if it is a crime to be a Socialist and a revolutionist, I
have committed that crime; but the charge against me is that I am a
criminal fool, which I am not. And my witnesses will show you,
gentlemen of the Jury, that the evidence brought against me is a mass
of lies of the silliest concoction. That is, they will show it you if you
are sensible men and understand your position as jurymen, which I
almost fear you do not. Well, it will not be the first time that the judge
has usurped the function of the jury, and I would go to prison
cheerfully enough if I could hope it would be the last.
[_He pauses as if to listen. Confused noises and the sound of the_
"_Marseillaise_" a long way off. (_Aside_: What is it, I wonder?--No;
it's nothing.)
_J. N_. Prisoner, what is the matter with you? You seem to be
intoxicated;