# Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 2/Divorce a vinculo - Part 5

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DIVORCE A VINCULO; or, THE TERRORS OF SIR CRESSWELL CRESSWELL.
(Continued from p. 255.)
There was deep silence throughout the Court as Mrs. Barber rose from her seat, and stood for a moment like a frightened fawn at gaze, as though uncertain where to find refuge from her fell pursuers. Nor was the timidity which was part of her gentle nature at all dispelled, or even mitigated, when the Usher of the Court yelled out, in an imperative metallic voice:
“This way ’um. Please to come this way ’um;” and then, in an under-tone as soothing, as though he were quietly cursing one of his own corns, but so as not to attract attention, he added, “Up them stairs.”
“Ten thousand swords,” methought should have leaped from their scabbards that instant, and the next, that rude unmanly official should
have been a thing O'er which the raven flaps her funeral wing.
What! summon this agonised wife, this fair being, to take her place before so awful a tribunal with as little ceremony as you would use in inviting a set of disgusting Aldermen, oozing with turtle and gorged with venison, to charge their filthy glasses at an abominable City feast. The very least that could be done would be to have a tall, mournful, gentlemanlike person in attendance, with a bag-wig and rapier—emblems of courtesy and justice—for the purpose of conducting these most interesting witnesses to their seats; and if an organ had been provided for Sir Cresswell’s use, and a solemn strain had ushered in the appearance of these accusing angels, I think it would have been as well. Mr. Lamb half-rose, as though ready to fly to poor Mrs. Barber’s assistance, had she lost consciousness at the outset of this trying ordeal. The three Judges even seemed moved to pity, and would, no doubt, but for the stern suggestions of duty, have tendered their aid to the unfortunate lady who was endeavouring to climb the steps to the awful pen. One moment more—and it is done; the fatal rail is let down, and the Fawn—a captive!
The Usher with the metallic voice continued:
“Lift your weil; take your glove hoff—the right ’and—please ’um” (this last phrase with a kind of explanatory growl); “the hevidence wich you are habout to give, &c., &c.”
Mrs. Barber had only half-raised her veil during the performance of this ceremony, poor soul! She had evidently lost the consciousness of her position, and rendered merely mechanical obedience to the stern commands of the Familiar of the Court. Her ungloved hand rested upon the rail of the pen; the veil was neither up nor down; obviously, she had not the slightest idea that she was the mark of every eye—but there was a sob. Oh! Barber, Barber! this is really too bad.
The kind old Judge who was trying the case had been for some time making little courteous waves with the pen which he held in his hand, and by telegraph inviting Mrs. Barber to take her place ​at the end of the bench; but she heard him not—or heeded him not. Sir Cresswell even desisted from the perusal of the entertaining volume in which he had appeared to be absorbed, and entreated the lady to sit down; but in the agitation of her mind Mrs. Barber mistook his meaning, and steadily raising her veil, so as to uncover her whole face, revealed herself to the Jury. How ugly all the lawyers in Court appeared!—In how false a position were those wretched Jurymen placed! To do them but justice—poor fellows!—they seemed to be aware of the fact, and thoroughly ashamed of themselves. A young barrister in a figured shirt obviously registered, who was sitting near me, observed, under his breath, to another member of the profession, a tall, stout young man: “Well!—that something-or-other fellow Barber must be something-or-other hard to please;” to which his stout and learned friend replied in effect, “that a monotonous diet of partridges, too much prolonged, would, in the long run, inevitably produce satiety.”
However, the point before the Court was to induce Mrs. Barber to take a seat. The attempts made by the old Judge, and Sir Cresswell had turned out palpable failures; but it was clearly impossible to proceed to business until the lady had been prevailed upon to retire to the back of the pen, and take up position in a regular way. The two Judges had broken down—it was idle to think of physical force. Mr. Lamb, who might possibly have exercised some influence over his client, remained perfectly passive; there was not a trace of any expression on his features from which you could have inferred that he was concerned with the matter in hand. I suppose he was puzzled and at his wits’ end.
The Divorce Court was at a dead lock; there was a perfect silence. There stood Mrs. Barber—a young Niobe in a sweet little bonnet and Indian shawl—staring at the Jury, and waiting for the axe to fall. Dr. Dodge next tried his luck, but to him Mrs. Barber paid not the smallest attention; she was no doubt expecting the blow from another quarter. Dr. Dodge had interfered in too pompous and self-sufficient a manner, and his position was simply ludicrous, as he stood in his place gesticulating away without a result. Finally, the third Judge, a fine-looking old gentleman, who had been fast asleep with his hands in his pockets, was aroused by the silence; and as he sate next to the pen he was able at last to attract Mrs. Barber’s attention. The lady turned upon him, her eyes filled with an expression of reverential gratitude, and contrived, in her own graceful way, to envelope the three Judges, at the same moment, with a look of filial piety. The Judge who had last spoken was her father; Sir Cresswell, and the old Judge, actually operating, her two good, kind uncles, who would see her well out of the scrape. With the courtesy of three high-bred old gentlemen they continued bowing to her, while Mrs. Barber was settling herself in her place, and shaking out her drapery, and reducing it into order with dainty little touches;—her hair, too, had been slightly disarranged, and also required some share of her attention. It became necessary for her to take off her second glove, in order to put matters quite to rights. From the moment Mrs. Barber had taken her seat everybody in Court seemed to experience sensible relief, and a kind of buzzing and a blowing of noses ran through the assembly, just as you find in churches when the attention of a congregation has been kept too long on the stretch under a particular head of terror or consolation.
Mrs. Barber having at length succeeded in arranging the disposition of her drapery to her satisfaction, and having also remedied the slight disorder in her “bandeaux” (these I observed were ribbed, or wavy, the effect was not unpleasing,) and having drawn her shawl around her in a way to produce the feeling of high shoulders, was now at leisure to attend to the business before the Court—indeed, so anxious was she that no time should be lost, that she directed towards the Bar a little look which meant “The victim is here—Strike!” even before she had finished putting on her gloves, (5¾), an operation requiring some degree of attention. The control the poor lady exercised over her feelings was very remarkable. Perfect self-possession had taken the place of the stupor of grief which but a few minutes before had weighed upon her tender spirits. As she glanced round the Court—you felt that it was converted into a drawing-room, and Mrs. Barber was the lady of the house. In point of fact, this was no longer Sir C. C.’s celebrated Divorce Court. What we saw was, Mrs. Barber At Home!
The duty of examining her in chief devolved upon Dr. Dodge, who requested her to give him her attention. Mrs. Barber with a sweet smile was graciously pleased to grant the prayer of his petition. I pass over mere formal matter, for otherwise these fleeting memoranda of the evidence in the great case of Barber v. Barber would run to intolerable length. I intreat, then, that any professional gentleman who may do me the honour of running his eye over these notes will believe that all formal proofs were put in, and in a word, “omnia rite et solenniter esse acta.” I confine myself to noteworthy matter which may interest the public, referring the professional reader for technical points to the forthcoming number of that entertaining, and instructive serial, “McWhack’s Divorce Cases.” So after a few preliminary questions, answered with the greatest propriety by Mrs. Barber—the examination proceeded.
Dr. Dodge. “I believe, Mrs. Barber, at the time you were married to Mr. Barber you were under age.”
Mrs. B. “I was a mere child at the time.”
Dr. D. “Now, madam, will you tell the Jury your exact age at the time of the fatal event?”
Mrs. B. (After a pause, during which she remained absorbed in arithmetical calculations.) “I am not yet twenty-three—my birthday is on the fifth of May” (sensation in the Court), “and I have been married six years to Mr. Barber.” (Increased sensation, unfavourable to Mr. B.).
Dr. D. “In other words, you were turned sixteen, but not seventeen, years of age at the date of your miserable marriage with the Respondent?”
​Mrs. B. “I suppose that was so; but, indeed, sir, it wasn’t my fault. Mr. Barber seemed so fond of me, and said that it would be such an agreeable surprise to my parents—”
Dr. D. “Never mind that now, madam, unless, indeed, my learned friend, Dr. Lobb, desires to have Mr. Barber’s observations on the occasion in extenso, in which case—”
Dr. Lobb declined this obliging offer.
Dr. D. “Now, madam, will you tell the Jury how you were married?”
Mrs. B. “Oh, yes, sir! I remember very well; I wore a white muslin with blue spots, and a leghorn with a sprig of white lilac, and I took Eliza’s brown visite.”
Dr. D. “I don’t allude to your dress, madam.”
By the Court. Stay a minute, Dr. Dodge. I don’t think I have that last answer quite correctly. ‘I tore a white muslin into blue spots, and a leghorn pig got at the white lilac, and paid Eliza a visit?’ Surely that can’t be correct. What had the pigs to do with Mrs. Barber’s marriage? And who is Eliza? Mr. Battledore didn’t open anything about Eliza—nor about the pigs either—and, besides, who ever heard of a leghorn pig?”
Dr. Lobb endeavoured to take advantage of this opening by a feeble attempt at jocularity; but it turned out that he was mistaken in his tactics, for the old Judge liked to have all the joking to himself, and told Dr. Lobb, somewhat peevishly, that if he had any technical objection to the question to make it at once; if not, not to interrupt the examination—so there was an end of him.
With some little trouble, and a slight interference on Sir Cresswell’s part, this matter was put to rights, and the old Judge seemed quite happy and comfortable now he had something to put in his notes. The examination proceeded.
Dr. D. “Now, Mrs. Barber—that there may be no further misunderstanding, I will put the question in a more precise way—were you married by banns or by licence?”
Mrs. B. (too eager to give her husband credit whenever possible). “Oh! by licence, of course. I will say that for Mr. Barber, he wouldn’t have attempted to insult me with banns. Indeed I know he went himself to Doctors’ Commons for the licence. I must do him the justice to say that.”
Mrs. Barber, poor soul, could not see what was obvious enough to the eyes of every person in Court, that her answer went a good way to establishing a case of perjury against her husband. The attempt to shield him was equally creditable to her, as though she had not been enticed into the pitfall dug for her simple feet by the crafty civilian.
Dr. D. “Now, Mrs. Barber, I must beg of you to direct your attention to the incidents that occurred before your marriage with Mr. Barber. You met him, I believe, for the first time in the ride in Hyde Park?”
Mrs. B. “Yes: I was riding there one morning, when Mr. Barber came up to me, and said he hoped mamma and papa were quite well.”
By the Court. “Did Mr. Barber run by the side of your horse, or are we to take it, madam, that Mr. Barber was on horseback too?”
Mrs. B. “Yes. I was a good deal astonished; but I supposed he knew the family; so I said that mamma’s cold was better—but that poor papa had something with a Greek name which made him very uncomfortable, especially after dinner, and Mr. Barber said he ought to be cupped every day at four o’clock, and if that did not answer, the only thing was to try the Spa waters.”
By the Court. “But, Dr. Dodge, all this does not amount to sævitia. The issue is sævitia. I need not tell you that.”
Dr. D. “Well—well—madam, I need not trouble you for the particulars of that conversation. Let us confine ourselves to facts. What followed?”
Mrs. B. “Mr. Barber proposed to me to have a canter; and when we were going at full speed he asked me if I believed in first love, and the union of souls, and I was so confused, because my net had fallen off, and my back hair was streaming out, that I don’t know what I answered: but I remember he said that it was ‘wonderful!’ and from that moment forward he would confine himself to four cigars a-day, and devote himself to my happiness.”
In order to avoid the more tedious form of question and answer until we get to the sævitia, the very pith and marrow of the issue to be tried, let it be sufficient to record that Mrs. Barber’s evidence fully confirmed the opening statement of her learned counsel with regard to the manner in which she, a mere child, had been entrapped into marriage by Mr. Barber’s machinations. It also appeared, that when the young couple, after the performance of the ceremony, had arrived at Mr. Montresor’s house, and Mr. Barber was asking for the blessing, Mr. M. was so enraged, that he caught up the poker, and chased his son-in-law several times round the loo-table in the front drawing-room, down into the hall, and again down the kitchen-stairs into the scullery, in which place Mr. Barber at length succeeded in barricading himself. Subsequent negotiations, until the arrival of the family solicitor, were carried on through the key-hole; and Mrs. Barber was checked, with some little difficulty, in a description of the effect produced on the mind of the cook by the sudden and forcible invasion of her peculiar dominions. Suffice it to say, that after a while, thanks to the judicious interference of Mr. Roper, the solicitor, it was arranged that Mrs. Barber’s money was to be settled on herself; Mr. Montresor was induced to lay aside the poker; and in due course the happy couple departed for Box Hill. It appeared, however, that even on the first day of that inauspicious union, Mr. Barber departed somewhat from his virtuous resolutions, and smoked all the afternoon “like a chimney”—a soothing process which he considered necessary for the restoration of his nerves, shattered as they had been by the form as well as substance of his first interview with the family of his amiable bride. From Box Hill the young couple had gone to Hastings, where occurred the disgusting incident of Mr. Barber’s appropriation of the bride’s purse.
​Dr. Dodge. “Are the jury, then, to understand, Mrs. Barber, that, from the first, Mr. Barber appropriated your own money to his own use?”
Mrs. B. “Sometimes he lent me a little.”
Dr. D. “A little—that is, of your own money?”
Mrs. B. “Yes; but he might have had it all. I mean when I had only myself to think of. But I should have been glad to have had a few pounds now and then to buy frocks for baby: and I wanted a few shillings once to have bought some merino to make a little coat for the poor child, and I would have sown on—the braid—myself when I was sitting-up at night for Mr. Barber; for, as he came in so late, there was plenty of t—t—t—t—time,” (the poor lady’s sobs were dreadful; she checked herself, however, and added, looking round like a Sibyl), “but I could never get a farthing!”
The effect produced on the Court by this terrible revelation may be estimated by the fact that poor Lamb—man of the world as he was, and no doubt inured to these harrowing spectacles—distinctly wept. The fact must have been evident to everybody present, as he was obliged to rise from his seat at that moment, and address some instruction to Dr. Dodge. I cannot absolutely say that Dr. Dodge cried also; I only know that he blew his nose very hard, and took his spectacles off, and proceeded to wipe them with a large green silk handkerchief with white spots. We talk of the weakness of women; but was it not strange that Mrs. Barber was the first to recover herself? She just passed her hand across her eyes, and then, with compressed lips and flashing nostrils, again offered her bosom to the operator’s knife.
Dr. D. (Contending with his emotion, and thundering out consolation.) “Be calm, Mrs. Barber, be calm! I will do my best to get my part quickly over. Let us get at once to Poldadek. Very soon after your marriage, you went down to Cornwall to stay with Mr. Barber’s sisters—maiden ladies, I believe?”
Mrs. B. “Yes, they are two old maids. Miss Harriet and Miss Jane. Miss Harriet is forty-nine, and Miss Jane forty-seven years of age. I saw the dates in the fly-leaf of the Family Bible at Poldadek.”
I had frequently noticed the pleasant expression in the eyes of the puff-adder at the Zoological Gardens, when that amiable reptile is improving its mind by glaring at the British public through the glass of its cage. All I can say is, there were two puff-adders in the Divorce Court that day—the Christian name of one began with H, of the other with J. The old Judge did not make things better by having a long wrangle with Dr. Dodge as to whether or no the age of the two ladies was admissible as evidence; and certainly Dr. Lobb did not at all soothe the feelings of the two Misses Barber by arguing the question with singular pertinacity. When this little matter was settled, Dr. Dodge proceeded with the examination.
Dr. D. “Will you be good enough to tell the Jury, Mrs. Barber, what kind of treatment you met with from your husband’s relatives—from the two Misses Barber, I mean?”
Mrs. B. “They were very unkind to me from the first; but not so bad as afterwards.”
Dr. D. “Not so bad as afterwards. Mention some facts, madam, if you please, to the Jury.”
Mrs. B. “The very first evening I was there, Miss Harriet upset an ink-bottle over my mauve silk, and I saw she did it on purpose: it was all jealousy, for you never saw two such frights as they were. All the evening, too, Miss Jane kept telling me that no person could be said to be ‘born’ out of Cornwall; and, as for the Irish nobility, they were the very ‘dregs’—that was to annoy me about papa’s cousin, Viscount Poteen; and, at night, they would put me to bed themselves, and they came into my room in two dirty flannel dressing-gowns, with their own heads all stuck over with curl-papers, and they would do my hair in the same way—and they pulled my head about till I quite screamed with pain.”
Dr. D. “But did not your husband—did not Mr. Barber, interfere for your protection? You told him, of course, what had occurred?”
Mrs. B. “Of course I did—but he told me not to mind the two old cats—that was his very word—for he had only come down to Cornwall to discount them. I didn’t know what he meant; but, at any rate, I was to let them pull my hair out by the roots if they chose—so they bled freely—but I thought I was the most likely person to bleed if that went on.”
Dr. D. “These were the occurrences of the first night of your stay at Poldadek. Proceed, Mrs. Barber—afterwards?”
Mrs. B. “Oh! afterwards things got much worse, though I confess I was to blame in some measure—but I was such a mere child at the time, and the old ladies had teased me so. One day they took away the keys of my trunks, and made me go to bed at seven o’clock because (playfully)—I knew it was very wrong of me—I had taken Miss Harriet’s front and tied it to Fido’s tail.”
Miss Harriet started up like a tigress at bay.
Mrs. B. (With increased playfulness,—Mrs. B. carried the Court with her). “And then I took Miss Jane’s false teeth—the whole set. Oh! it was very wrong of me—and slipped them into the tea-pot at breakfast.”
Miss Jane also stood up by the side of her sister, and glared savagely at Mrs. Barber, but they might have been a thousand miles away for all the notice they obtained from that lady, who looked rather over them, just as if they were not there in Court bursting with venom, and proceeded with her self-accusation.
Mrs. B. “That was very wrong of me—very—very wrong—but I always said it was not my fault, if I knew that the new curate, Mr. Copeward, told Miss Jane in the breakfast-parlour, that he wouldn’t have anything to say to her, because she was too old for him.”
The Misses B. “Oh! my Lord, it’s false—it’s a wicked, abominable invention. Oh! you horrid, shameless, false, abandoned creature.” ​It was not without considerable difficulty, and threats of committal, and imprisonment, and much sternness from Sir Cresswell, and much blandness from Dr. Lobb, that these two ladies were induced to resume their seats. They only had eyes and ears for the object of their vindictiveness—a feeling which Mrs. Barber was far from reciprocating, as appeared by the touching expression of forgiveness in her countenance. It was beautiful to see the contrast between the infuriated, but baffled persecutors, and their tender victim.
Dr. D. “I believe, Mrs. Barber, that after leaving Poldadek, you went with Mr. Barber to Cheltenham?”
Mrs. B. “We did; and Mr. Barber took lodgings for us in Lansdowne Place, but he never paid for them?”
Dr. D. “Was it at Cheltenham that Mr. Barber struck you for the first time?”
Mrs. B. “It was. He was in his dressing-room. It was before dinner. We had had some discussion in the morning, because Mr. Barber wanted me to write home for some more money, which I declined to do; and when I went into the room, Mr. Barber was dressing, and he called me ——.”
Dr. D. “I am afraid, madam, we must have the very words.”
Mrs. B. “I don’t like to say.”
Papa!
Dr. D. “Did he swear at you?”
Mrs. B. (With considerable moral dignity blended with compassion). “I am sorry to say Mr. Barber used always to swear a great deal. When he was not swearing at anybody in particular, he would swear in a general way.”
Dr. D. “In a general way. But what did he say on this particular occasion?”
Mrs. B. “He called me—I suppose I must tell—a white-livered hussy, and said I was not fit to carry—indeed, I can’t tell you the exact word, but something or other—to a bear.”
Dr. D. “To a bear. Mr. Barber said you were not fit to carry something or another to a bear. What then?”
Mrs. B. “Then he struck me—O, so hard!—it hurt me so!—it was so unkind of him!”
Dr. D. “With his open hand, or his fist? or did he use some weapon, or implement?”
Mrs. B. “He had something in his hand, and he struck me with that.”
Dr. D. “Was it a poker, or a bootjack?”
Mrs. B. “It might have been the bootjack; and I put up my arm to guard myself, and he made a great mark, and that remained for many days.”
Dr. D. “Did he repeat the violence? Did he strike you again?”
Mrs. B. “Not upon that occasion; but it was just here!”
​By the Court. “Ah! this is satisfactory, Dr. Dodge, we have got to the sævitia at last.”
The Two Old Cats.
Mrs. Barber then assisted the Court in arriving at a precise conclusion by baring her arm up to the elbow, and indicating the exact spot where her brutal husband had inflicted the blow upon her. I have rather a feeling for a lady’s arm, and I very conscientiously declare that the very last thing I should have dreamed of doing with Mrs. B.’s arm would have been to hit it with a bootjack. However, there was violence proved. It appeared, as Dr. Dodge proceeded with the examination, that Mr. Barber, failing in his endeavour to induce Mrs. B. to write to her parents for additional supplies, was not satisfied with breaking and bruising her tender body, but actually had recourse to metaphysical terrors. He took her down to Herne Bay, far away from all human assistance, and hired a lodging there, at the stormiest season of the year. He then told her ghost-stories for two or three days, and used to take her up in a dark room, and set fire to saucers filled with spirits of wine, till the poor lady was brought into such a state of low nervousness that any imposture could be practised upon her with success. It was upon that occasion that he had turned two cats shod with walnut-shells into her bed-room, and by some diabolical contrivance had caused a luminous inscription to appear suddenly upon the wall. It was conceived in these terms:
BEWARE! BEWARE!
Don’t let the wife’s purse
Prove in marriage a curse,
When she’s taken a husband for better or worse; Pounds shillings and pence
Must not give offence,
For Augustus’s love for Cecilia’s intense!
Mention of this at first produced a titter in Court; but when it came out that Mrs. B. had been so terrified by the trick that she had lost consciousness, and did not recover from the shock for some months, the first feeling of ridicule was soon changed into one of intolerable and burning indignation against the brutal husband, who, not satisfied with inflicting upon his poor wife the utmost extremities of violence, had absolutely tampered with her mind’s health, in order to convert her into a passive instrument for extorting money from her parents. From Herne Bay they had proceeded to Brussels, where they had resided for about a year, and here it was that Mrs. Barber’s child was born; and it appeared that the unnatural father was with difficulty prevented from forcing an oyster into the mouth of the newly-born babe, and sticking the end of a cigar between its little lips. Then there was the terrible incident about the cutting off of her hair, which also occurred at Brussels, soon after Mrs. Barber had recovered from the effects of her confinement. At Brussels Mr. Barber got involved again in ​pecuniary difficulties, from which he was only relieved by the interposition of his angelic wife. What return he made her we shall presently see. They came back to England viâ Folkestone.
Dr. D. “And now, Mrs. Barber, I must question you as to a very painful incident. Did anything occur at Folkestone, upon that occasion?”
Mrs. B. “O, sir! you must not ask me about that. I can’t tell—indeed I can’t. O, don’t ask me!”
This was the point known throughout the contention as “the incident of the ankles.” Poor Mrs. Barber, upon being farther pressed, made two or three spasmodic efforts to speak, but utterly broke down. You could just distinguish such words as “the babe,” “my child,” “O, cruel, cruel, cruel!” There was, indeed, scarcely a dry eye in Court, so truly pitiable were Mrs. Barber’s sobs, whilst Dr. Dodge, in a confidential way—which it is somewhat difficult to maintain in conversation with a deaf gentleman—endeavoured to explain to the old Judge that Mr. Barber had upon one occasion accused his amiable lady of having purposely exposed her feet and ankles to the bystanders on the railway platform at Folkestone. The three Judges, deeply affected, put their heads together for a moment, and finally an intimation was given from the Bench that it would be wiser not to push this distressing matter further.
Dr. Dodge passed on to the next point, with a sly cut at Dr. Lobb. Before putting the question, he turned in the direction of that gentleman, and said that for once he was sure “of having his learned friend” with him; whatever argument might have been raised as to the instances of sævitia hitherto adduced, there could not, as he apprehended, exist any doubt that deliberately to set fire to a lady’s nose was sævitia in the highest degree. Now, as Dr. Lobb had certainly stood in one of the front places when noses were served out, the observation was unpleasant. The “incident of the nose” at Folkestone was then discussed, Mrs. Barber relating the story with the simple pathos of truth and sincerity. Dr. Dodge, as he saw the Jury took the point, dwelt upon it for some time, characterising it, as I thought justly enough, as “arson perpetrated upon the person of a British subject,”—a crime so monstrous, that it was unknown to the British law. In the course of the rapid questioning and answers, Dr. Dodge managed to obtain a hearing for the arrangements of the ancient Romans with regard to parricide. Indeed, the learned civilian was working up a suggestion for tying up Mr. Barber in a potato sack in company with a viper, a fox, &c., and easing him into the navigable river Thames off Westminster Bridge. He was stopped, however, by Sir C. C. in the midst of a very beautiful burst of eloquence, just as he had got into his stride.
There was some discussion as to whether Mrs. Barber’s little pet dog, who had been—as she alleged—so inhumanly stewed and converted by Mr. B. into a salmi de Fido aux champignons, should be put upon the Judge’s notes; but, after a very critical wrangle indeed as to whether the larceny of the dog could, in any case, be brought home to Mr. B. (pretermitting the question as to Mr. B.’s property in the animal in his marital character, though, as Dr. Dodge suggested, it might turn out that the legal estate in Fido lay in Mrs. Barber’s trustees), it was finally ruled that the poor little animal’s ghost must howl unappeased on the banks of the sullen Styx. Dr. Dodge, having exhausted the resources of pathos, prolonged the contest for a few moments in a jocular tone, urging something about “No dog, no supper,” which I could not quite catch. But it came to nothing. A lesser instance of sævitia, or cruelty, was, that Mr. Barber, in the earlier days of her marriage, when Mr. Barber did occasionally accompany her in her walks, always refused to give her his arm, upon the unmanly and unfeeling plea that the lady’s crinoline bumped against his calves. The incident of the burning of the worked petticoats gave occasion to a lively discussion. It appeared that Mr. Barber had actually, upon one occasion, opened the press or closet or drawers in which Mrs. B. kept her under-raiment, and taken therefrom certain petticoats adorned with beautiful needle-work, which he burnt in her presence.
By the Court. “Why, Dr. Dodge, this is an attempt to murder. Eh—eh?”
Dr. D. “Not quite that, my Lud, with all deference; we don’t allege that Mrs. B. was actually wearing the petticoats at the time of the outrage.”
By the Court. “To be sure that makes a difference—but I see that in the charges a good deal turns upon these petticoats. What kind of petticoats were they, Mrs. Barber?”
Mrs B. “They were trimmed with Holy Work, my Lord, about quarter of a yard deep.”
By the Court. (Writing.) “Trimmed with Holy Work. A sort of ecclesiastical vestment, eh? Is the Court to take it so?”
Poor Mrs. Barber here for the first time so far forgot her situation as to laugh outright. It did her no harm, however, with the assembly—for it showed what she must have been before her young spirits were weighed down by Mr. Barber’s systematic oppression and tyranny. The contrast helped her. She proceeded to explain to the old Judge, “that Holy Work had nothing to do with sacred observances—but was so called.”
Here a forward sort of middle-aged barrister struck in in a dogmatic way as amicus curiæ, but with a strong Scotch accent:
A. C. “It’s joost ca’d Ho-o-oly Wurrak, my Loard, because the wurrak is in ho-o-oles!”
Mrs. B. (playfully.) “Oh, dear, no;—oh, dear, no! Not quite that. Oh, dear, no” (the Scotch barrister looked ready for a fight, but the lady waved him into silence with a graceful movement of her right hand), “it is called Holy work, my Lord, because the pattern is cut in the shape of St. Catharine’s Wheels. You know, my Lord, those holes you gentlemen say that we ladies cut out that we may sew them up again.”
Here followed explanations in the most courteous tone, and with the most extreme vivacity between the lady and the Court. I hope I am not of a suspicious nature, but I could not help thinking that, from that moment, the fountain of justice did not flow so clearly as before in the breast of that ancient Judge. However, what matter? Here was one of the cases in which feeling and justice were co-incident? When this ​discussion was terminated by the Court’s putting on its notes whatever Mrs. Barber wished, by an easy transition we passed to various acts of sævitia, or cruelty perpetrated by Mr. Barber on his wife in consequence, as he alleged, of her extravagance in dress, but as it did not appear that the lady had ever spent above 200l. per annum on this object, and as she had brought 800l. per annum to the connubial chest, this surely was not much. It was beautiful to see the paternal interest which the Court now displayed in all Mrs. Barber’s little comforts. There were some interlocutory proceedings, not recorded upon the Judge’s notes, but as they were entirely conducted between the Court and Mrs. B., no one had a right to interfere.
By the Court. “Only 30l. a-year for gloves! Surely Mr. Barber could never have objected to that?”
Mrs. B. “Eight bonnets; two for winter, two for spring, chapeaux à l’hirondelle, or bonnets of passage; four for summer.”
By the Court. “It might have been held that one per mensem was not an over estimate for a lady of Mrs. Barber’s position and fortune.”
Mrs. B. “And I’m sure, my lord, my bill at Hayward’s, for cuffs and collars never exceeded 40l.; and then, a lady has so many little expenses that you gentlemen know nothing about.”
Of course they have, poor things! The Court passed Hayward’s bill without a shadow of objection; but then, remembering the sterner requirements of justice, let fall an intimation to Dr. Dodge, that it would perhaps be more regular if such points were spoken to by an Expert. Dr. D. bowed deferentially, and jumped at the suggestion; for, in point of fact, he had secured the attendance of Madame Léocadie Lareine, should the course of the proceedings render it desirable to produce her.
Dr. D. “And now, my Lords—and Gentlemen of the Jury, in conclusion, I will only question Mrs. Barber on one other instance of sævitia which was opened by my learned friend. Was there, Madam, any agreement or understanding between you and Mr. Barber, previous to your marriage, on the subject of the stockings you were to wear during coverture?”
Mrs. B. “There was.”
Dr. Lobb objected that the agreement should have been in writing, and under seal. The Court glanced at Mrs. B., and put an end to Lobb.
Dr. D. “What was the agreement—in substance, I mean?”
Mrs. B. “I was always to wear silk stockings—and to pay for them myself.”
Dr. D. “Did Mr. Barber perform his part—a negative one, I admit,—in the contract?”
Mrs. B. “He did not.”
Dr. D. “Tell the Jury how he violated it. Quote the breaches, madam.”
Dr. Dodge was speaking so triumphantly;—with each question and answer he was so getting upon a higher rung, that expectation now waited upon his every word. He was fumbling with his right hand under his gown.
Mrs. B. “He insisted that I should wear those odious Cotton-tops, and give him the difference.”
Dr. D. “Are these the Cotton-tops?”
With these words the learned counsel pulled out a pair of lady’s hose, and held them up emphatically in presence of the Court. I must say that, although the material might have been objectionable, the form was exceedingly pretty, and suggestive of the secret symmetry of the fair limbs they were intended to protect from the inclemency of the weather.
Mrs. B. “They are!”
Dr. Lobb was on his feet in a moment, and urged that the sample-stockings were void for want of identity. Mrs. Barber, however, admitted that they were “her size;” the Court was fascinated, and every eye-glass was directed to the shapely articles which Dr. D. continued to hold up in the public sight. All Dr. Lobb’s objections were shattered like waves against a cliff in the presence of these pleasing articles of lady’s attire.
Dr. Dodge sat down with—“Gentlemen of the Jury, that is my case, as far as Mrs. Barber is concerned,” and he handed the stockings to Mr. Lamb, who folded them as reverentially as though they had been a sacred relic in silver paper, and deposited them in his breast pocket.
The Court adjourned to its chop and glass of sherry—and then Dr. Lobb was to do his part in the shambles. Gamma.
(To be continued.)