THE TABLES TURNED;or, Nupkins Awakened [Title page: title. Jpg] A Socialist Interlude BY WILLIAM MORRIS AUTHOR OF 'THE EARTHLY PARADISE. ' _As for the first time played at the Hall of the Socialist League onSaturday October 15, 1887_ LONDON:OFFICE OF "THE COMMONWEAL"13 FARRINGDON ROAD, E. C. 1887 _All Rights Reserved_. ORIGINAL CAST. _DRAMATIS PERSONAE--PART I_. Mr. La-di-da (_found guilty of swindling_) . . . H. BARTLETT. Mr. Justice Nupkins . . . W. BLUNDELL. Mr. Hungary, Q. C. (_Counsel for the Prosecution_) . . . W. H. UTLEY. Sergeant Sticktoit (_Witness for Prosecution_) . . . JAMES ALLMAN. Constable Potlegoff (_Witness for Prosecution_) . . . H. B. TARLETON. Constable Strongithoath (_Witness for Prosecution_) . . . J. FLOCKTON. Mary Pinch (_a labourer's wife, accused of theft_) . . . MAY MORRIS. Foreman of Jury . . . T. CANTWELL. Jack Freeman (_a Socialist, accused of conspiracy, sedition, andobstruction of the highway_) . . . H. H. SPARLING. Archbishop of Canterbury (_Witness for Defence_) . . . W. MORRIS. Lord Tennyson (_Witness for Defence_) . . . A. BROOKES. Professor Tyndall (_Witness for Defence_) . . . H. BARTLETT. William Joyce (_a Socialist Ensign_) . . . H. A. BARKER. Usher . . . J. LANE. Clerk of the Court . . . J. TURNER. Jurymen, Interrupters, Revolutionists, etc. , etc. * * * * * _DRAMATIS PERSONAE. --PART II_. Citizen Nupkins (_late Justice_) . . . W. BLUNDELL, Mary Pinch . . . MAY MORRIS. William Joyce (_late Socialist Ensign_) . . . H. A. BARKER. Jack Freeman . . . H. H. SPARLING. 1st Neighbour . . . H. B. TARLETON. 2nd Neighbour . . . J. LANE. 3rd Neighbour . . . H. GRAHAM. Robert Pinch, and other Neighbours, Men and Women. PART I. SCENE. --_A Court of Justice_. USHER, CLERK OF THE COURT, MR. HUNGARY, Q. C. , _and others_. MR. LA-DI-DA, _the prisoner, not in the dock, but seated in a chair before it_. [_Enter_ MR. JUSTICE NUPKINS. _Usher_. Silence!--silence! _Mr. Justice Nupkins_. Prisoner at the bar, you have been found guiltyby a jury, after a very long and careful consideration of your remarkableand strange case, of a very serious offence; an offence which squeamishmoralists are apt to call robbing the widow and orphan; a cant phrasealso, with which I hesitate to soil my lips, designates this offence asswindling. You will permit me to remark that the very fact that suchnauseous and improper words can be used about the conduct of a_gentleman_ shows how far you have been led astray from the path tracedout for the feet of a respectable member of society. Mr. La-di-da, ifyou were less self-restrained, less respectful, less refined, less of agentleman, in short, I might point out to you with more or less severitythe disastrous consequences of your conduct; but I cannot doubt, from themanner in which you have borne yourself during the whole of this trial, that you are fully impressed with the seriousness of the occasion. Ishall say no more then, but perform the painful duty which devolves on meof passing sentence on you. I am compelled in doing so to award you aterm of imprisonment; but I shall take care that you shall not bedegraded by contamination with thieves and rioters, and other coarsepersons, or share the diet and treatment which is no punishment topersons used to hard living: that would be to inflict a punishment on younot intended by the law, and would cast a stain on your character noteasily wiped away. I wish you to return to that society of which youhave up to this untoward event formed an ornament without any such stain. You will, therefore, be imprisoned as a first-class misdemeanant for thespace of one calendar month; and I trust that during the retirement thusenforced upon you, which to a person of your resources should not be veryirksome, you will reflect on the rashness, the incaution, theimpropriety, in one word, of your conduct, and that you will never bediscovered again appropriating to your personal use money which has beenentrusted to your care by your friends and relatives. _Mr. La-di-da_. I thank you, my lord, for your kindness andconsideration. May I be allowed to ask you to add to your kindness bypermitting me to return to my home and make some necessary arrangementsbefore submitting myself to the well-merited chastisement which myimprudence has brought upon me? _Mr. J. N_. Certainly. I repeat I do not wish to make your sentence anyheavier by forcing a hard construction upon it. I give you a week tomake all arrangements necessary for your peace of mind and your bodilycomfort. _Mr. L_. I thank your lordship. [_Exit_. [_The case of_ MARY PINCH _called_. ] _Mr. Hungary, Q. C_. I am for the prosecution, my lord, instructed by theSecretary of State for the Home Department. (JUDGE _bites his pen andnods_. ) My lord, and gentlemen of the Jury, although this case may seemto some ill-judging persons a trivial one, I think you will be able tosee before it is over that it is really important in its bearing on thewelfare of society, the welfare of the public; that is, of therespectable public, --of the respectable public, gentlemen. For in thesedays, when the spirit of discontent is so widespread, all illegal actionshave, so to say, a political bearing, my lord, and all illegal actionsare wicked, gentlemen of the Jury, since they tend towards the insecurityof society, or in other words, are definitely aimed at the very basis ofall morality and religion. Therefore, my lord, I have receivedinstructions from the Home Secretary to prosecute this woman, who, as Ishall be able to prove to you, gentlemen of the Jury, by the testimony ofthree witnesses occupying responsible official positions, has been guiltyof a breach at once of the laws of the country and the dictates ofmorality, and has thereby seriously inconvenienced a very respectabletradesman, nay (_looking at his brief_) three respectable tradesmen. Ishall be able to show, gentlemen, that this woman has stolen three loavesof bread: (_impressively_) not one, gentlemen, but three. _A Voice_. She's got three children, you palavering blackguard! [_Confusion_. _Mr. Justice N_. (_who has made an elaborate show of composing himself toslumber since the counsel began, here wakes up and cries out_) Arrestthat man, officer; I will commit him, and give him the heaviestpunishment that the law allows of. [_The_ USHER _dives among the audience amidst great confusion, but comesback empty-handed_. _J. N_. A most dangerous disturbance! A most dangerous disturbance! _Mr. H_. Gentlemen of the Jury, in confirmation of my remarks on thespirit that is abroad, I call your attention to the riot which has justtaken place, endangering, I doubt not, the life of his lordship, and yourown lives, gentlemen, so valuable to--to--to--in short, to yourselves. Need I point out to you at any length, then, the danger of allowingcriminals, offenders against the sacred rights of property, to go atlarge? This incident speaks for me, and I have now nothing to do but letthe witnesses speak for themselves. Gentlemen of the Jury, I do not askyou to convict on insufficient evidence; but I _do_ ask you not to beswayed by any false sentiment bearing reference to the so-calledsmallness of the offence, or the poverty of the offender. The law ismade for the poor as well as for the rich, for the rich as well as forthe poor. The poor man has no more right to shelter himself behind hispoverty, than the rich man behind his riches. In short, gentlemen of theJury, what I ask you in all confidence to do, is to do justice and fearnot. --I call Sergeant Sticktoit. [SERGEANT STICKTOIT _sworn_. _Mr. H_. Well, sergeant, you saw this woman steal the loaves? _Sticktoit_. Yes, sir. _Mr. H_. All of them? _St_. Yes, all. _Mr. H_. From different shops, or from one? _St_. From three different shops. _Mr. H_. Yes, just so. (_Aside_: Then why the devil did he say from oneshop when his evidence was taken before?) (_To_ ST. ) You were an eye-witness of that? You noticed her take all three loaves? _St_. (_Aside_: He wants me to say from three different shops; I'm sure Idon't know why. Anyhow, I'll say it--and swear it. ) (_To the Court_)Yes, I was an eye-witness of the deed; (_pompously_) I followed her, andthen I took her. _Mr. H_. Yes, then you took her. Please tell the Court how. _St_. (_Aside_: Let's see, what did we agree was the likeliest way?) (_ToCourt_) I saw her take the first loaf and hide it in her shawl; and thenthe second one; and the second one tumbled down into the mud; and shepicked it up again and wiped it with her shawl; and then she took thethird; and when she tried to put that with the two others they all threetumbled down; and as she stooped down to pick them up it seemed the besttime to take her, as the two constables had come up; so I took her. _Mr. N_. Yes; you took her. _St_. And she cried. _Mr. H_. Ah, she cried. Well, sergeant, that will do; you may go. (_Aside_: The sooner he goes the better. Wouldn't I like to have thecross-examining of him if he was called on the other side!) ConstablePotlegoff. [POTLEGOFF _sworn_. _Mr. H_. Well, constable, did you see the woman take the loaves? _Potlegoff_. Yes, sir. _Mr. H_. How did she take them? _Pot_. Off the counter, sir. _Mr. H_. Did she go into the shop to take them? _Pot_. Yes, sir. (_Aside_: I thought I was to say into three shops. ) _Mr. H_. One after another? _Pot_. Yes, out of one shop one after another. (_Aside_: Now it'sright, I hope. ) _Mr. H_. (_Aside_: Confound him, he's contradicting the other!) (_To_POT. ) Yes, just so; one after the other. And did you see the secondloaf tumble down? _Pot_. Yes, sir. _Mr. H_. When was that? _Pot_. As she took it off the counter. _Mr. H_. Yes, _after_ she took it off the counter, in the street? _Pot_. No, sir. (_Catching the_ SERGEANT'S _eye_. ) I mean yes, sir, and she wiped the mud off them; the sergeant saw her--and I saw her. _A Voice_. Off IT, you liar! 'twas the second loaf, the single loaf, theother liar said! [_Confusion. The judge wakes up and splutters, and tries to saysomething; the_ USHER _goes through the audience, but finds no one_;HUNGARY _spreads out his hands to the Jury, appealingly_. _Mr. H_. Yes, so it was in the street that you saw the loaves fall down? _Pot_. Yes, sir; it was in the street that I saw it tumble down. _A Voice_. You mean _them_, you fool! You haven't got the story rightyet! [_Confusion again. The_ JUDGE _sits up and stares like a man awaked froma nightmare, then calls out_ Officer! Officer! _very loud. The_ USHER_goes his errand again, and comes back bootless_. _Mr. H_. (_very blandly_). It was in the street that you saw the threeloaves fall down? _Pot_. Yes, it was in the street that I saw the loaf fall down. _Mr. H_. Yes, in the street; just so, in the street. You may go(_Aside_: for a damned fool!). Constable Strongithoath. [CONSTABLE STRONGITHOATH _sworn_, _Mr. H_. Constable, did you see this robbery? _Strong_. I saw it. _Mr. H_. Tell us what you saw. _Strong_, (_very slowly and stolidly, and as if repeating a lesson_). Isaw her steal them all--all--all from one shop--from three shops--Ifollowed her--I took her. When she took it up--she let it drop--in theshop--and wiped the street mud off it. Then she dropped them all threein the shop--and came out--and I took her--with the help--of the twoconstables--and she cried. _Mr. H_. You may go (_Aside_: for a new-caught joskin and a fool!). Iwon't ask him any questions. _J. N_. (_waking up, and languid_). Do you call any other witnesses, Mr. Hungary? _Mr. H_. No, my lord. (_Aside_: Not if I know it, considering thequality of the evidence. Not that it much matters; the Judge is going toget a conviction; the Jury will do as he tells them--always do. ) (_Tothe Court_): My lord and gentlemen of the Jury, that's my case. _J. N_. Well, my good woman, what have you to say to this? _Mary Pinch_. Say to it! What's the use of _saying_ anything to it? I'd_do_ to it, if I could. _J. N_. Woman! what do you mean? Violence will not do here. Have youwitnesses to call? _M. P_. Witnesses! how can I call witnesses to swear that I didn't stealthe loaves? _J. N_. Well, do you wish to question the witnesses? You have a rightto. _M. P_. Much good that would be! Would you listen to me if I did? Ididn't steal the loaves; but I wanted them, I can tell you that. Butit's all one; you are going to have it so, and I might as well havestolen a diamond necklace for all the justice I shall get here. What'sthe odds? It's of a piece with the rest of my life for the last threeyears. My husband was a handsome young countryman once, God help us! Hecould live on ten shillings a-week before he married me; let alone thathe could pick up things here and there. Rabbits and hares some of them, as why should he not? And I could earn a little too; it was not so badthere. And then and for long the place was a pretty place, the littlegrey cottage among the trees, if the cupboard hadn't been so bare; onecan't live on flowers and nightingale's songs. Then the children camebrisk, and the wages came slack; and the farmer got the newreaping-machine, and my binding came to an end; and topping turnips for afew days in the foggy November mornings don't bring you in much, evenwhen you havn't just had a baby. And the skim milk was long ago gone, and the leasing, and the sack of tail-wheat, and the cheap cheeses almostfor nothing, and the hedge-clippings, and it was just the bare tenshillings a-week. So at last, when we had heard enough of eighteenshillings a-week up in London, and we scarce knew what London meant, though we knew well enough what ten shillings a-week in the countrymeant, we said we'd go to London and try it there; and it had been a goodharvest, quickly saved, which made it bad for us poor folk, as there wasthe less for us to do; and winter was creeping in on us. So up to Londonwe came; for says Robert: "They'll let us starve here, for aught I cansee: they'll do naught for us; let us do something for ourselves. " So upwe came; and when all's said, we had better have lain down and died inthe grey cottage clean and empty. I dream of it yet at whiles: clean, but no longer empty; the crockery on the dresser, the flitch hanging fromthe rafters, the pot on the fire, the smell of new bread about; and thechildren fat and ruddy tumbling about in the sun; and my lad coming in atthe door stooping his head a little; for our door is low, and he was atall handsome chap in those days. --But what's the use of talking? I'vesaid enough: I didn't steal the loaves--and if I had a done, where wasthe harm? _J. N_. Enough, woman? Yes, and far more than enough. You are anundefended prisoner. You have not the advantage of counsel, or I wouldnot have allowed you to go on so long. You would have done yourself moregood by trying to refute the very serious accusation brought against you, than by rambling into a long statement of your wrongs against society. Weall have our troubles to bear, and you must bear your share of themwithout offending against the laws of your country--the equal laws thatare made for rich and poor alike. _A Voice_. _You_ can bear _her_ troubles well enough, can't you, old fatguts? _J. N_. (_scarcely articulate with rage_). Officer! officer! arrest thatman, or I will arrest you! [USHER _again makes a vain attempt to get hold of some one_. _J. N_. (_puffing and blowing with offended dignity_). Woman, woman, have you anything more to say? _M. P_. Not a word. Do what you will with me. I don't care. _J. N_. (_impressively_). Gentlemen of Jury, simple as this case seems, it is a most important one under the present condition of discontentwhich afflicts this country, and of which we have had such grievousmanifestations in this Court to-day. This is not a common theft, gentlemen--if indeed a theft has been committed--it is a revolutionarytheft, based on the claim on the part of those who happen unfortunatelyto be starving, to help themselves at the expense of their morefortunate, and probably--I may say certainly--more meritoriouscountrymen. I do not indeed go so far as to say that this woman is incollusion with those ferocious ruffians who have made these sacredprecincts of justice ring with their ribald and threatening scoff's. Butthe persistence of these riotous interruptions, and the ease with whichtheir perpetrators have evaded arrest, have produced a strange impressionin my mind. (_Very impressively_. ) However, gentlemen, that impressionI do not ask you to share; on the contrary, I warn you against it, justas I warn you against being moved by the false sentiment uttered by thiswoman, tinged as it was by the most revolutionary--nay, the mostbloodthirsty feeling. Dismiss all these non-essentials from your minds, gentlemen, and consider the evidence only; and show this mistaken womanthe true majesty of English Law by acquitting her--if you are notsatisfied with the abundant, clear, and obviously unbiassed evidence, putbefore you with that terseness and simplicity of diction whichdistinguishes our noble civil force. The case is so free from intricacy, gentlemen, that I need not call your attention to any of the details ofthat evidence. You must either accept it as a whole and bring in averdict of guilty, or your verdict must be one which would be tantamountto accusing the sergeant and constables of wilful and corrupt perjury;and I may add, wanton perjury; as there could be no possible reason forthese officers departing from the strict line of truth. Gentlemen Ileave you to your deliberations. _Foreman of Jury_. My lord, we have already made up our minds. Yourlordship need not leave the Court: we find the woman guilty. _J. N_. (_gravely nodding his head_). It now remains for me to givesentence. Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted by a jury of yourcountrymen-- _A Voice_. That's a lie! You convicted her: you were judge and juryboth. _J. N_. (_in a fury_). Officer, you are a disgrace to your coat! Arrestthat man, I say. I would have had the Court cleared long ago, but that Ihoped that you would have arrested the ruffian if I gave him a chance ofrepeating his--his crime. [_The_ USHER _makes his usual promenade_. _J. N_. You have been convicted by a jury of your countrymen of stealingthree loaves of bread; and I do not see how in the face of the evidencethey could have come to any other verdict. Convicted of such a seriousoffence, this is not the time and place to reproach you with othermisconduct; and yet I could almost regret that it is not possible to putyou once more in the dock, and try you for conspiracy and incitement toriot; as in my own mind I have no doubt that you are in collusion withthe ruffianly revolutionists, who, judging from their accent, areforeigners of a low type, and who, while this case has been proceeding, have been stimulating their bloodstained souls to further horrors by themost indecent verbal violence. And I must here take the opportunity ofremarking that such occurrences could not now be occurring, but for theill-judged leniency of even a Tory Government in permitting that pest ofsociety the unrespectable foreigner to congregate in this metropolis. _A Voice_. What do they do with you, you blooming old idiot, when yougoes abroad and waddles through the Loover? _J. N_. Another of them! another of those scarcely articulateforeigners! This is a most dangerous plot! Officer, arrest everybodypresent except the officials. I will make an example of everybody: Iwill commit them all. _Mr. H_. (_leaning over to_ JUDGE). I don't see how it can be done, mylord. Let it alone: there's a Socialist prisoner coming next; you canmake him pay for all. _J. N_. Oh! there is, is there? All right--all right. I'll go and geta bit of lunch (_offering to rise_). _Clerk_. Beg pardon, my lord, but you haven't sentenced the prisoner. _J. N_. Oh, ah! Yes. Oh, eighteen months' hard labour. _M. P_. Six months for each loaf that I didn't steal! Well, God helpthe poor in a free country! Won't you save all further trouble byhanging me, my lord? Or if you won't hang me, at least hang my children:they'll live to be a nuisance to you else. _J. N_. Remove the woman. Call the next case. (_Aside_: And looksharp: I want to get away. ) [_Case of_ JOHN _or_ JACK FREEMAN _called_. ] _Mr. H_. I am for the prosecution, my lord. _J. N_. Is the prisoner defended? _Jack Freeman_. Not I. _J. N_. Hold your tongue, sir! I did not ask you. Now, brotherHungary. _Mr. H_. Once more, my lord and gentlemen of the Jury, I rise to addressyou; and, gentlemen, I must congratulate you on having the honour ofassisting on two State trials on one day; for again I am instructed bythe Secretary of State for the Home Department to prosecute the prisoner. He is charged with sedition and incitement to riot and murder, and alsowith obstructing the Queen's Highway. I shall bring forward overwhelmingevidence to prove the latter offence--which is, indeed, the easiest ofall offences to be proved, since the wisdom of the law has ordained thatit can be committed without obstructing anything or anybody. As for theother, and what we may excusably consider the more serious offence, theevidence will, I feel sure, leave no doubt in your minds concerning theguilt of the prisoner. I must now give you a few facts in explanation ofthis case. You may not know, gentlemen of the Jury, that in the midst ofthe profound peace which this glorious empire now enjoys; in spite of theliberty which is the proud possession of every Briton, whatever his rankor fortune; in spite of the eager competition and steadily and swiftlyrising wages for the services of the workmen of all grades, so that sucha thing as want of employment is unheard of amongst us; in spite of thefact that the sick, the infirm, the old, the unfortunate, are wellclothed and generously fed and housed in noble buildings, miscalled, I amfree to confess, _work_houses, since the affectionate assiduity of ournoble Poor Law takes every care that if the inmates are of no use tothemselves they shall at least be of no use to any one else, --in spite ofall these and many kindred blessings of civilisation, there are, as youmay not know, a set of wicked persons in the country, mostly, it is true, belonging to that class of non-respectable foreigners of whom my lordspoke with such feeling, taste, and judgment, who are plotting, ratherwith insolent effrontery than crawling secrecy, to overturn the sacrededifice of property, the foundation of our hearths, our homes, and ouraltars. Gentlemen of the Jury, it might be thought that such madmenmight well be left to themselves, that no one would listen to theirravings, and that the glorious machinery of Justice need no more be usedagainst them than a crusader's glittering battle-axe need be broughtforward to exterminate the nocturnal pest of our couches. This indeedhas been, I must say unfortunately, the view taken by our rulers tillquite recently. But times have changed, gentlemen; for need I tell you, who in your character of shrewd and successful men of business understandhuman nature so well, that in this imperfect world we must not reckon onthe wisdom, the good sense of those around us. Therefore you willscarcely be surprised to hear that these monstrous, wicked, anddisreputable doctrines are becoming popular; that murder and rapine areeagerly looked forward to under such names as Socialism, revolution, co-operation, profit-sharing, and the like; and that the leaders of the sectare dangerous to the last degree. Such a leader you now see before you. Now I must tell you that these Socialist or Co-operationist incendiariesare banded together into three principal societies, and that the prisonerat the bar belongs to one if not two of these, and is striving, hithertoin vain, for admittance into the third and most dangerous. TheFederationist League and the International Federation, to one or both ofwhich this man belongs, are dangerous and malevolent associations; butthey do not apply so strict a test of membership as the third body, theFabian Democratic Parliamentary League, which exacts from every applicanta proof of some special deed of ferocity before admission, the mostguilty of their champions veiling their crimes under the speciouspretexts of vegetarianism, the scientific investigation of supernaturalphenomena, vulgarly called ghost-catching, political economy, and otheroccult and dull studies. But though not yet admitted a neophyte of thisbody, the prisoner has taken one necessary step towards initiation, inlearning the special language spoken at all the meetings of theseincendiaries: for this body differs from the other two in using a sort ofcant language or thieves' Latin, so as to prevent their deliberationsfrom becoming known outside their unholy brotherhood. Examples of thiswill be given you by the witnesses, which I will ask you to notecarefully as indications of the dangerous and widespread nature of theconspiracy. I call Constable Potlegoff. [CONSTABLE POTLEGOFF _sworn_. _Mr. H_. Have you seen the prisoner before? _Pot_. Yes. _Mr. H_. Where? _Pot_. At Beadon Road, Hammersmith. _Mr. H_. What was he doing there? _Pot_. He was standing on a stool surrounded by a dense crowd. _Mr. H_. What else? _Pot_. He was speaking to them in a loud tone of voice. _Mr. H_. You say it was a dense crowd: how dense? Would it have beeneasy for any one to pass through the crowd? _Pot_. It would have been impossible. I could not have got anywherenear him without using my truncheon--which I have a right to do. _Mr. H_. Is Beadon Road a frequented thoroughfare? _Pot_. Very much so, especially on a Sunday morning. _Mr. H_. Could you hear what he said? _Pot_. I could and I did. I made notes of what he said. _Mr. H_. Can you repeat anything he said? _Pot_. I can. He urged the crowd to disembowel all the inhabitants ofLondon. (_Sensation_. ) _Mr. H_. Can you remember the exact words he used? _Pot_. I can. He said, "Those of this capital should have no bowels. You workers must see to having this done. " _J. N_. Stop a little; it is important that I should get an accuratenote of this (_writing_). Those who live in this metropolis must havetheir bowels drawn out--is that right? _Pot_. This capital, he said, my lord. _J. N_. (_writing_). This capital. Well, well, well! I cannot guesswhy the prisoner should be so infuriated against this metropolis. Go on, Mr. Hungary. _Mr. H_. (_to witness_). Can you remember any other words he said? _Pot_. Yes; later on he said, "I hope to see the last Londoner hung inthe guts of the last member of Parliament. " _J. N_. Londoner, eh? _Pot_. Yes, my lord; that is, he meant Londoner. _J. N_. You mustn't say what he meant, you must say what you heard himsay. _Pot_. Capital, my lord. _J. N_. I see; (_writing_). The last dweller in the metropolis. _Pot_. Capital, my lord. _J. N_. Yes, exactly; that's just what I've written--this metropolis. _Pot_. He said capital, my lord. _Mr. H_. Capital, the witness says, my lord. _J. N_. Well, doesn't that mean the same thing? I tell you I've got itdown accurately. _J. F_. (_who has been looking from one to the other with an amused__smile, now says as if he were thinking aloud_:) Well, I _am_ damned!what a set of fools! _J. N_. What is that you said, sir? Have you no sense of decency, sir?Are you pleading, or are you not pleading? I have a great mind to haveyou removed. _J. F_. (_laughing_). Oh, by all means remove me! I didn't ask to behere. Only look here, I could set you right in three minutes if you onlylet me. _J. N_. Do you want to ask the witness anything? If not, sir, hold yourtongue, sir. No, sir; don't speak, sir. I can see that you aremeditating bullying me; let me advise you, sir, not to try it. _Mr. H_. (_to_ POT. ) Was that the only occasion on which you heard himspeaking? _Pot_. No; I have heard him speaking in Hyde Park and saying much thesame thing, and calling Mr. Justice Nupkins a damned old fool! _J. N_. (_writing_). "A damned old fool!" Anything else? _Pot_. A blasted old cheat! _J. N_. (_writing_). "A blasted old cheat!" (_Cheerfully_) Go on. _Pot_. Another time he was talking in a public-house with two men whom Iunderstood to be members of the Fabian League. He was having words withthem, and one of them said, "Ah, but you forget the rent of ability"; andhe said, "Damn the rent of ability, I will smash their rents ofabilities. " _Mr. H_. Did you know what that meant? _Pot_. No; not then. _Mr. H_. But you do now? _Pot_. Yes; for I got into conversation with one of them, who told methat it meant the brain, the skull. _J. N_. (_writing_). "The rent of ability is a cant phrase in use amongthese people signifying the head. " _Mr. H_. Well? _Pot_. Well, then they laughed and said, Well, as far as he isconcerned, smash it when you can catch it. _Mr. H_. Did you gather whose head it was that they were speaking of? _Pot_. Yes; his lordship's. _Mr. H_. (_impressively and plaintively_). And _why_? _Pot_. Because they said he had jugged their comrades like a damned oldsmoutch! _J. N_. _Jugged_? _Pot_. Put them in prison, my lord. _J. N_. (_Aside_: That Norwich affair. ) Wait! I must write my self downa smoutch--smoutch? no doubt a foreign word. _Mr. H_. What else have you heard the prisoner say. _Pot_. I have heard him threaten to make her Majesty the Queen take inwashing. _J. N_. Plain washing? _Pot_. Yes, my lord. _J. N_. Not fancy work? _Pot_. No, my lord. _A Juryman_. Have you heard him suggest any means of doing all this? _Pot_. Yes, sir; for I have attended meetings of his association indisguise, when they were plotting means of exciting the populace. _Mr. H_. In which he took part? _Pot_. In which he took part. _Mr. H_. You heard him arranging with others for a rising of the lowerorders? _Pot_. Yes, sir; and on the occasion, when I met him in the publichouse, I got into conversation with him, and he told me that his societynumbered upwards of two millions. (J. F. _grins_. ) _The Juryman_ (_anxiously_). Armed? _Pot_. He said there were arms in readiness for them. _Mr. H_. Did you find out where? _Pot_. Yes; at the premises of the Federationist League, 13 FarringdonRoad. _Mr. H_. Did you search for them there? _Pot_. Yes. _Mr. H_. Did you find them? _Pot_. No; we found nothing but printing-stock and some very shabbyfurniture, and the office-boy, and three compositors. _Mr. H_. Did you arrest them? _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 searchand had sold the arms? _Pot_. So we gathered. _J. N_. (_writing_). "They did not find the arms because they had beensold. " _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 upyour mind which way the jury shall make up their minds, so it isn't muchuse. However, I will ask him three questions. Constable Potlegoff, athow many do you estimate the dense crowd at Beadon Road, when Iobstructed? _Pot_. Upwards of a thousand. _J. F_. H'm; a good meeting! How many were present at that meeting ofthe Socialist League where we were plotting to make the Queen take inwashing? _Pot_. Upwards of two hundred. _J. F_. Lastly, when I told you in the public-house that we were twomillions 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'tmuddle 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, andthat all arrangements had been made for doing it, if only the workingmenwould combine. He then went into details as to where various detachmentswere 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, " bywhich 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 wasarrested? _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 thevileness of the incendiarism contained in it. I specially draw yourattention to this article by one Bax, who as you will see, is familiarwith 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, whathave you to say? Do you call witnesses? _J. F_. Yes, I call witnesses, but I haven't much to say. I am accusedof obstruction, but I shan't argue that point, as I know that I should domyself no good by proving that I had not obstructed. I am accused ofbeing a Socialist and a revolutionist. Well, if you, my lord, and you, gentlemen of the Jury, and the classes to which you belong, knew whatSocialism means--and I fear you take some pains not to--you would alsoknow what the condition of things is now, and how necessary revolutionis. So if it is a crime to be a Socialist and a revolutionist, I havecommitted that crime; but the charge against me is that I am a criminalfool, which I am not. And my witnesses will show you, gentlemen of theJury, that the evidence brought against me is a mass of lies of thesilliest concoction. That is, they will show it you if you are sensiblemen and understand your position as jurymen, which I almost fear you donot. Well, it will not be the first time that the judge has usurped thefunction of the jury, and I would go to prison cheerfully enough if Icould 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 beintoxicated; and indeed I hope you are, for nothing else could excuse thebrutality of your language. _J. F_. Oh, don't put yourself out, my lord. You've got the whip-handof me, you know. I thought I heard an echo; that's all. Well, I willsay no more, but call the Archbishop of Canterbury. [_Enter the_ ARCHBISHOP, _who is received with much reverence andattention. He is sworn_. _J. F_. Your Grace, were you present at the meeting at Beadon Road whereI was arrested? _Arch_. Yes--yes, I _was_ there. Strange to say, it was on a Sundaymorning. I needed some little refreshment from the toils ofecclesiastical office. So I took a cab, I admit under the pretext ofpaying a visit to my brother of London; and having heard the fame ofthese Socialist meetings, I betook me to one of them for my instructionand profit: for I hold that in these days even those that are highest inthe Church should interest themselves in social matters. _J. F_. Well, my lord, were you pleased with what you saw and heard? _Arch_. I confess, sir, that I was disappointed. _J. F_. Why, my lord? _Arch_. Because of the extreme paucity of the audience. _J. F_. Were there a thousand persons present? _Arch_. (_severely_). I must ask you not to jest with me in the sacredlyrespectable precincts of a Court of Justice. To the best of myremembrance, there were present at the commencement of your discourse butthree persons exclusive of yourself. That fact is impressed on my mindfrom the rude and coarse words which you said when you mounted your stoolor rostrum to the friend who accompanied you and had under his arm abundle of a very reprehensible and ribald print called the _Commonweal_, one of which he, I may say, forced me to purchase. _J. F_. Well, what did I say? _Arch_. You said, "I say, Bill! damned hard lines to have to speak to alamp-post, a kid, and an old buffer"--by the latter vulgarity indicatingmyself, as I understand. _J. F_. Yes, my lord, so it is. Now let me ask you, if that matters, isBeadon Road a thronged thoroughfare? _Arch_. On the contrary; at least on the morning on which I was there, there was a kind of Sabbath rest about it, scarcely broken by theharangue of yourself, sir. _J. F_. You heard what I said, my lord? _Arch_. I did, and was much shocked at it. _J. F_. Well, did I say anything about bowels? _Arch_. I regret to say that you did. _J. F_. Do you remember the words I used? _Arch_. Only too well. You said, but at great length, and with muchembroidery of language more than questionable, that capital had no bowelsfor the worker, nor owners of capital either; and that since no one elsewould be kind to them, the workers must be kind to themselves and takethe matter into their own hands. _J. N_. (_making notes_). Owners of _the capital_; workman must take thematter--take the matter--into their own hands. _J. F_. Well, I have no more questions to ask your Grace. _Mr. H_. With many excuses, your Grace, _I_ will ask you a question. _Arch_. Certainly, Mr Hungary. _Mr. H_. You say that the audience was very small; that was at first;but did it not increase as time went on? _Arch_. Yes; an itinerant vendor of ices drew up his stall there, andtwo policemen--these gentlemen--strolled in, and some ten or more othersstood round us before the orator had finished. _Mr. H_. (_Aside_: H'm! old beggar will be so very specific. Let's tryhim as to the sedition. ) (_To_ ARCH. ) My lord, you said that you wereshocked at what the prisoner said: what was the nature of his discourse? _Arch_. I regret to have to say that it was a mass of the most frightfulincendiarism, delivered with an occasional air of jocularity and dryhumour that made my flesh creep. Amidst the persistent attacks onproperty he did not spare other sacred things. He even made an attack onmy position, stating (wrongly) the amount of my moderate stipend. Indeed, I think he recognised me, although I was partially disguised. _J. F_. (_Aside_: True for you, old Benson, or else how could I havesubpoenaed you?) _Mr. H_. I thank your Grace: that will do. _J. F_. I now call Lord Tennyson. [LORD TENNYSON _sworn_. _J. F_. My lord, have you been present, in disguise, at a meeting of theSocialist League in 13 Farringdon Road? _Lord T_. What's that to you? What do you want to know for? Yes, Ihave, if it comes to that. _J. F_. Who brought you there? _Lord T_. A policeman: one Potlegoff. I thought he was a Russian by hisname, but it seems he is an Englishman--and a liar. He said it would beexciting: so I went. _J. F_. And was it exciting? _Lord T_. NO: it was _dull_. _J. F_. How many were present? _Lord T_. Seventeen: I counted them, because I hadn't got anything elseto do. _J. F_. Did they plot anything dreadful? _Lord T_. Not that I could hear. They sat and smoked; and one fool wasin the chair, and another fool read letters; and then they worried till Iwas sick of it as to where such and such fools should go to spout follythe next week; and now and then an old bald-headed fool and a stumpylittle fool in blue made jokes, at which they laughed a good deal; but Icouldn't understand the jokes--and I came away. _J. F_. Thank you, my lord. _Mr. H_. My lord Tennyson, I wish to ask you a question. You say thatyou couldn't understand their jokes: but could you understand them whenthey were in earnest? _Lord T_. No, I couldn't: I can't say I tried. I don't want tounderstand Socialism: it doesn't belong to my time. [_Exit_. _J. F_. I call Professor Tyndall. [PROFESSOR TYNDALL _sworn_. _J. F_. Professor Tyndall, have you seen me before? _Pro. T_. Yes; I have seen you in a public-house, where I went tocollect the opinions of the lower orders against Mr. Gladstone. _J. F_. Who was I with? _Pro. T_. You were with a man whom I was told was a policeman in plainclothes, and with some others that I assume to have been friends ofyours, as you winked at them and you and they were laughing together asyou talked to the policeman. _J. F_. Do you see the policeman in Court? _Pro. T_. Yes; there he is. _J. F_. Was he drunk or sober? _Pro. T_. What, now? _J. F_. No--then. _Pro. T_. (_with decision_). Drunk. _J. F_. Was I drunk? _Pro. T_. What, now? _J. F_. No--then; though you may tell me whether I'm drunk or not now, if you like, and define drunkenness scientifically. _Pro. T_. Well, you were so, so. _J. F_. Thank you, Professor. _Mr. H_. One question, Professor Tyndall. Did you hear what theprisoner was saying to the policeman--who, by the way, was, I suspect, only shamming drunkenness? _J. F_. (_Aside_: He could carry a good deal, then. ) _Pro. T_. Yes, I heard him. He was boasting of the extent and power ofthe Socialist organisation. _Mr. H_. And did you believe it? did it surprise you? _Pro. T_. It did not in the least surprise me: it seemed to me thenatural consequences of Gladstone's Home Rule Bill. As to believing it, I knew he was jesting; but I thought that his jesting concealed veryserious earnest. He seemed to me a determined, cunning, and mostdangerous person. _Mr. H_. I thank you, professor. [_Exit_ PRO. T. _J. N_. Prisoner, do you want to re-examine the witnesses? What's thatnoise outside? They ought to be arrested. ["_Marseillaise_" _again without, and tumult nearer_. FREEMAN _listensintently, without heeding the_ JUDGE. _J. N_. Prisoner, why don't you answer? Your insolence won't serve youhere, I can tell you. _J. F_. I was listening, Judge; I thought I heard that echo again. _J. N_. Echo again! What does the fellow mean? It's my belief you'redrunk, sir: that you have stimulated your courage by liquor. _A Voice_. Look out for _your_ courage, old cockywax; you may havesomething to try it presently! _J. N_. Officer, arrest that pernicious foreigner. [USHER _promenades once more_. _J. N_. (_Aside_: I don't like it: I'm afraid there is something going tohappen. ) (_To Court_) Mr. Hungary. _Mr. H_. My lord and gentlemen of the Jury, the prisoner's mingledlevity and bitterness leaves me little to answer to. I can only say, gentlemen of the Jury, that I am convinced that you will do your duty. Asto the evidence, I need make no lengthened comments on it, because I amsure his lordship will save me the trouble. (_Aside_: Trust him!) It ishis habit--his laudable habit--to lead juries through the intricacieswhich beset unprofessional minds in dealing with evidence. For the rest, there is little need to point out the weight of the irrefragibletestimony of the sergeant and constable, --men trained to bring forwardthose portions of the facts which come under their notice which _are_weighty. I will not insult you, my lord, by pointing out to intelligentgentlemen in your presence how the evidence of the distinguished andillustrious personages so vexatiously called by the prisoner, so far fromshaking the official evidence, really confirms it. (_Aside_: I wonderwhat all that row is about? I wish I were out of this and at home. )Gentlemen of the Jury, I repeat that I expect you to do your duty anddefend yourselves from the bloodthirsty designs of the dangerousrevolutionist now before you. (_Aside_: Well, now I'm off, and thesooner the better; there's a row on somewhere. ) [_Exit_. _J. N_. Gentlemen of the Jury, I need not expatiate to you on theimportance of the case before you. There are two charges brought againstthe prisoner, but one so transcends the other in importance--nay, I maysay swallows it up--that I imagine your attention will be almost whollyfixed on that--the charge of conspiring and inciting to riot. Besides, on the lesser charge the evidence is so simple and crystal-clear that Ineed but allude to it. I will only remark on the law of the case, thatcommitting an obstruction is a peculiar offence, since it is committed byeveryone who, being in a public thoroughfare, does not walk brisklythrough the streets from his starting-place to his goal. There is noneed to show that some other person is hindered by him in his loitering, since obviously that _might_ be the case; and besides, his loiteringmight hinder another from forming in his mind a legitimate wish to bethere, and so might do him a very special and peculiar injury. In fact, gentlemen, it has been doubted whether this grave offence of obstructionis not always being committed by everybody, as a corollary to the well-known axiom in physics that two bodies cannot occupy the same space atone and the same time. So much, gentlemen, for the lesser accusation. Asto the far more serious one, I scarcely know in what words to impressupon you the gravity of the accusation. The crime is an attack on thepublic safety, gentlemen; if it has been committed, gentlemen--if it hasbeen committed. On that point you are bound by your oaths to decideaccording to the evidence; and I must tell you that the learned counselwas in error when he told you that I should direct your views as to thatevidence. It is for you to say whether you believe that the witnesseswere speaking what was consonant with truth. But I am bound to point outto you that whereas the evidence for the prosecution was clear, definite, and consecutive, that for the defence had no such pretensions. Indeed, gentlemen, I am at a loss to discover why the prisoner put thoseillustrious and respectable personages to so much trouble andinconvenience merely to confirm in a remarkable way the evidence of thesergeant and the constable. His Grace the Archbishop said that therewere but three persons present when the prisoner _began_ speaking; but hehas told us very clearly that before the end of the discourse there wereten, or more. You must look at those latter words, _or more_, as a keyto reconcile the apparent discrepancy between his Grace's evidence andthat of constable Potlegoff. This, however, is a matter of littleimportance, after what I have told you about the law in the case ofobstruction. His Grace's clear remembrance of the horrible language ofthe prisoner, and the shuddering disgust that it produced on him, is avery different matter. Although his remembrance of the _ipsissima verba_does not quite tally with that of the constable, it is clear that boththe Archbishop and the policeman have noted the real significance of whatwas said: The owners of this capital, said the prisoner-- _J. F_. I said nothing of the kind. _J. N_. Yes you did, sir. Those were the very words you said: I havegot it down in my notes of his Grace's evidence. What is the use of yourdenying it, when your own witness gives evidence of it? Hold yourtongue, sir. --And the workingmen, says the prisoner, must take the matterinto their own hands. Take it into _their own hands_, gentlemen, andtake _the matter_ into their hands. What matter are they to take intotheir hands? Are we justified in thinking that the prisoner was speakingmetaphorically? Gentlemen, I must tell you that the maxim that inweighing evidence you need not go beyond the most direct explanationguides us here; forbids us to think that the prisoner was speakingmetaphorically, and compels us to suppose that the _matter_ which is tobe in the _hands_ of the workmen, their very _hands_, gentlemen, is--what?Why, (_in an awe-struck whisper_) the bowels of the owners of thecapital, that is of this metropolis--London! Nor, gentlemen, are themeans whereby those respectable persons, the owners of house property inLondon, to be disembowelled left doubtful: the raising of armed men bythe million, concealed weapons, and an organisation capable offrustrating the search for them. Nay, an article in the paper whichimpudently calls itself (_reading the_ "_Commonweal_") the officialjournal of the Socialist League, written by one Bax, who ought to bestanding in the same dock with the prisoner--an article in which heattacks the sacredness of civilisation--is murky with the word dynamic ordynamite. And you must not forget, gentlemen, that the prisoner acceptshis responsibility for all these words and deeds. With the utmosteffrontery having pleaded "Not Guilty, " he says, "I am a Socialist and aRevolutionist"!--Thus much, gentlemen, my duty compels me to lay beforeyou as to the legal character of the evidence. But you must clearlyunderstand that it rests with you and not with me to decide as to whetherthe evidence shows this man to be guilty. It is you, gentlemen of theJury, who are responsible for the verdict, whatever it may be; and I mustbe permitted to add that letting this man loose upon society will be avery heavy responsibility for you to accept. [_The Jury consult: the noise outside increases_. _J. F_. (_Aside_; Hilloa! what _is_ going on? I begin to think there's arow up!) _Foreman of the Jury_. My lord, we are agreed upon our verdict. _J. N_. Do you find the prisoner at the bar "Guilty" or "Not Guilty"? _F. Of J_. Guilty, my lord. _J. F_. Just _so_. _J. N_. Prisoner at the bar, you have been fairly tried and found guiltyby a jury of your fellow-countrymen of two most serious offences--crimes, I should say. If I had not to pronounce sentence upon one whoseconscience is seared and case-hardened to an unexampled degree, I mighthave some words to say to you. (_Aside_: And also if I didn't want toget out of this as quick as I can; for I'm sure there is some row goingon. ) As it is, I will add no words to my sentence. (_Aside_: I wish Iwere _off_, but let's give it him hot and heavy!) I sentence you to sixyears' penal servitude and to pay a fine of 100 pounds. _J. F_. Well, its pretty much what I expected of _you_. As to the 100pounds, don't you wish you may get it; and as to the six years-- [_Great noise_; "_Marseillaise_" _sung quite close_; _hammering on thedoors_. _J. F_. Hark! what's that? _J. N_. (_in a quavering voice_). Remove the prisoner! [_Enter a_ SOCIALIST ensign _with a red flag in his hand_. _S. E_. Remove the prisoner! Yes, that's just what I've come to do, mylord. The Tables are Turned now! _J. N_. (_rising and prepared to go_). Arrest that man! _S. E_. Yes, do--if you can. _J. F_. What does it all mean, Bill? _S. E_. The very beginning of it, Jack. It seems we have not beensanguine enough. The Revolution we were all looking forward to had beengoing on all along, and now the last act has begun. The reactionists arefighting, and pretty badly too, for the soldiers are beginning toremember that they too belong to the "lower classes"--the lowerclasses--hurrah! You must come along at once, Freeman; we shall want youin our quarter. Don't waste another minute with these fools. _J. N_. (_screaming_). Help, help! Murder, murder! _S. E_. Murder!--murder a louse! Who's hurting you, old gentleman?Don't make such a noise. We'll try and make some use of you when we havetime, but we must bustle now. Come on, Jack. Stop a bit, though;where's the Clerk of the Court? Oh, there! Clerk, we shall want thisCourt-house almost directly to use for a free market for this district. There have been too many people starving and half-starving this longtime; and the first thing that we've got to see to is that every one hasenough to eat, drink, and wear, and a proper roof over his head. _J. N_. Murder! thieves! fire! _S. E_. There, there! Don't make such a row, old fellow! Get out ofthis, and bellow in the fields with the horned cattle, if you mustbellow. Perhaps they'll want Courts of Justice now, as we don't. And asfor you, good fellows, all give a cheer for the Social Revolution whichhas Turned the Tables; and so--to work--to work! [JUDGE _screams and faints, and Curtain falls_. PART II. SCENE. --_The Fields near a Country Village; a Copse close by. Time--Afterthe Revolution_. [_Enter_ CITIZEN (_late_ JUSTICE) NUPKINS. _He looks cautiously about toright and left, then sits down on the ground_. ] _C. N_. Now I think I may safely take a little rest: all is quiet here. Yet there are houses in the distance, and wherever there are houses now, there are enemies of law and order. Well, at least, here is a good thickcopse for me to hide in in case anybody comes. What am I to do? I shallbe hunted down at last. It's true that those last people gave me a goodbelly-full, and asked me no questions; but they looked at me very hard. One of these times they will bring me before a magistrate, and then itwill be all over with me. I shall be charged as a rogue and a vagabond, and made to give an account of myself; and then they will find out who Iam, and then I shall be hanged--I shall be hanged--I, Justice Nupkins!Ah, the happy days when _I_ used to sentence people to be hanged! Howeasy life was then, and now how hard! [_Hides his face in his hands andweeps_. [_Enter_ MARY PINCH, _prettily dressed_. ] _M. P_. How pleasant it is this morning! These hot late summermornings, when the first pears are ripening, and the wheat is nearlyready for cutting, and the river is low and weedy, remind me most of thetimes when I was a little freckle-faced child, when I was happy in spiteof everything, though it was hard lines enough sometimes. Well, well, Ican think of those times with pleasure now; it's like living the best ofthe early days over again, now we are so happy, and the children like togrow up straight and comely, and not having their poor little faces allcreased into anxious lines. Yes, I am my old self come to life again;it's all like a pretty picture of the past days. They were brave men. And good fellows who helped to bring it about: I feel almost like sayingmy prayers to them. And yet there were people--yes, and poor peopletoo--who couldn't bear the idea of it. I wonder what they think of itnow. I wish, sometimes, I could make people understand how I felt whenthey came to me in prison, where all things were so miserable that, heaven be praised! I can't remember its misery now, and they broughtRobert to me, and he hugged me and kissed me, and said, when he stoodaway from me a little, "Come, Mary, we are going home, and we're going tobe happy; for the rich people are gone, and there's no more starving orstealing. " And I didn't know what he meant, but I saw such a look in hiseyes and in the eyes of those who were with him, that my feet seemedscarcely on the ground; as if I were going to fly. And how tired out Iwas with happiness before the day was done! Just to think that my last-born child will not know what to be poor meant; and nobody will ever beable to make him understand it. [NUPKINS _groans_. ] Hilloa! What's thematter? Why, there's a man ill or in trouble; an oldish man, too. Poorold fellow! Citizen, what's the matter? How can I help you? _C. N_. (_jumping up with a howl_). Ah, they are upon me! That dreadfulword "citizen"! (_Looks at_ M. P. _and staggers back_). Oh, Lord! isit? Yes, it _is_--the woman that I sentenced on that horrible morning, the last morning I adorned the judicial bench. _M. P_. What _is_ the matter? And how badly you're dressed; and youseem afraid. What _can_ you be afraid of? If I am not afraid of thecows, I am sure you needn't be--with your great thick stick, too. (_Shelooks at him and laughs, and says aside_, Why to be sure, if it isn'tthat silly, spiteful old man that sentenced me on the last of the baddays before we all got so happy together!) (_To_ N. ) Why, Mr. Nupkins--citizen--I remember you; you are an old acquaintance: I'll goand call my husband. _C. N_. Oh, no! no! don't! _please_ don't!--(_Aside_: There, there, I'mdone for--can I run away?--No use--perhaps I might soften her. I used tobe called eloquent--by the penny-a-liners. I've made a jury cry--Ithink--let me try it. Gentlemen of the Jury, remember the sad change inmy client's position! remember. --Oh, I'm going mad, I think--sheremembers me) (_Kneels before her_) Oh, woman, woman, spare me! Let mecrawl into the copse and die quietly there! _M. P_. Spare you, citizen? Well, I could have spared you once, wellenough, and so could many another poor devil have done. But as to dyingin the copse, no, I really can't let you do that. You must come home toour house, and we'll see what can be done with you. It's our old house, but really nice enough, now; all that pretty picture of plenty that Itold you about on that day when you were so hard upon me has come topass, and more. _C. N_. Oh, no! I can't come! _M. P_. Oh, yes; you can get as far as that, and we'll give yousomething to eat and drink, and then you'll be stronger. It will reallyplease me, if you'll come; I'm like a child with a new toy, these days, and want to show new-comers all that's going on. Come along, and I'llshow you the pretty new hall they are building for our parish; it's sucha pleasure to stand and watch the lads at work there, as merry as grigs. Hark! you may hear their trowels clinking from here. And, Mr. Nupkins, you mustn't think I stole those loaves; I really didn't. _C. N_. Oh, dear me! Oh, dear me! She wants to get me away and murderme! I won't go. _M. P_. How _can_ you talk such nonsense? Why, on earth, should Imurder you? _C. N_. (_sobbing_). Judicially, judicially! _M. P_. How silly you are! I really don't know what you mean. Well, ifyou won't come with me, I'm off; but you know where to go when you wantyour dinner. But if you still owe me a grudge, which would be very sillyof you, any of the people in the houses yonder will give you your food. [_Exit_. _C. N_. There! She's going to fetch some ferocious revolutionaries tomake an end of me. It's no use trying to stop her now. I will flee inanother direction; perhaps I shan't always meet people I've sentenced. [_As he is going he runs up against_ WILLIAM JOYCE, _once_ SOCIALISTENSIGN, _entering from the other side_. _William Joyce_. Hilloa, citizen! look out! (_looking at him_) But Isay, what's the matter with you? You are queerly rigged. Why, I haven'tseen a man in such a condition for many a long day. You're like anancient ruin, a dream of past times. No, really I don't mean to hurtyour feelings. Can I do anything to help you? [C. N. _covers his face with his hands and moans_. _W. J_. Hilloa! Why, I'm blessed if it isn't the old bird who was onthe bench that morning, sentencing comrade Jack! What's _he_ been doing, I wonder? I say, don't you remember me, citizen? I'm the character whocame in with the red flag that morning when you were playing the last ofyour queer games up yonder. Cheer up, man! we'll find something for youto do, though you have been so badly educated. _C. N_. Spare me, I entreat you! Don't let it be known who I am, praydon't, or I shall certainly be hanged. Don't hang me; give me hardlabour for life, but don't hang me! Yes, I confess I was Judge Nupkins;but don't give me up! I'll be your servant, your slave all my life; onlydon't bring me before a magistrate. They are so unfair, and so hard! _W. J_. Well, what do you think of a judge, old fellow? _C. N_. That's nearly as bad, but not quite; because sometimes there's acantankerous blackguard on the jury who won't convict, and insists onletting a man off. But, please, pray think better of it, and let it be aprivate matter, if you must needs punish me. I won't bring an actionagainst you, whatever you do. Don't make it a judicial matter! Lookhere, I'll sign a bond to be your servant for ever without wages if youwill but feed me. I suffer so from not having my meals regularly. Ifyou only knew how bad it is to be hungry and not to be sure of getting ameal. _W. J_. Yes, Nupkins; but you see, I _do_ know only too well--but that'sall gone by. Yet, if you had only known that some time ago, or let'ssay, guessed at it, it might have been the better for you now. _C. N_. (_aside_; Oh, how jeering and hard he looks!) Oh, spare me, anddon't send me to the workhouse! You've no idea how they bully peoplethere. I didn't mean to be a bad or hard man; I didn't indeed. _W. J_. Well, I must say if you meant to be anything else, you botchedthe job! But I suppose, in fact, you didn't mean anything at all. --Somuch the worse for you. (_Aside_: I must do a little cat and mouse withhim). _C. N_. Oh, spare me, spare me! I'll work so hard for you. Keep itdark as to who I am. It will be such an advantage you're having me allto yourself. _W. J_. Would it, indeed? Well, I doubt that. _C. N_. Oh, I think so. I really am a good lawyer. _W. J_. H'm, that would be rather less useful than a dead jackass--unlessone came to the conclusion of making cat's meat of you. _C. N_. (_aside_, Oh, I'm sick at heart at his hinted threats). Mr. Socialist, don't you see I could put you up to all sorts of dodges bywhich you could get hold of odds and ends of property--as I suppose youhave some sort of property still--and the titles of the land must be veryshaky just after a revolution? I tell you I could put you up to thingswhich would make you a person of great importance; as good as what a lordused to be. _W. J_. (_aside_, Oh, you old blackguard! What's bred in the bone won'tcome out of the flesh. I really must frighten the old coward a little;besides, the council _has_ got to settle what's to be done with him, orthe old idiot will put us to shame by dying on our hands of fright andstupidity. ) (_To_ N. ) Nupkins, I really don't know what to do with youas a slave; I'm afraid that you would corrupt the morals of my children;that you would set them quarrelling and tell them lies. There's nothingfor it but you must come before the Council of our Commune: they'll meetpresently under yonder tree this fine day. _C. N_. No, no, don't! Pray let me go and drag out the remainder of amiserable existence without being brought before a magistrate and sent toprison! You don't know what a dreadful thing it is. _W. J_. You're wrong again, Nupkins. I know all about it. The stupidred tape that hinders the Court from getting at the truth; theimpossibility of making your stupid judge understand the real state ofthe case, because he is not thinking of you and your life as a man, butof a set of rules drawn up to allow men to make money of other people'smisfortunes; and then to prison with you; and your miserable helplessnessin the narrow cell, and the feeling as if you must be stifled; and noteven a pencil to write with, or knife to whittle with, or even a pocketto put anything in. I don't say anything about the starvation diet, because other people besides prisoners were starved or half-starved. Oh, Nupkins, Nupkins! it's a pity you couldn't have thought of all thisbefore. _C. N_. (_aside_: Oh, what terrible revenge is he devising for me?) (_to_W. J. ) Sir, sir, let me slip away before the Court meets. (_Aside_: Apretty Court, out in the open-air! Much they'll know about law!) _W. J_. Citizen Nupkins, don't you stir from here! You'll see anotherold acquaintance presently--Jack Freeman, whom you were sending off tosix years of it when the red flag came in that day. --And in good timehere he is. [_Enter_ JACK FREEMAN, _sauntering in dressed in a blouse, smoking, abillycock on his head, and his hands in his pockets_. _W. J_. There's your judge, Citizen Nupkins! No, Jack, you needn't takeyour hands out of your pockets to shake hands with me; I know your waysand your manners. But look here! (_pointing to_ NUPKINS). _J. F_. Why, what next? There's no mistaking him, it's my oldacquaintance Mr. Justice Nupkins. Why you seem down on your luck, neighbour. What can I do to help you? [NUPKINS _moans_. _W. J_. (_winking at_ FREEMAN). You've got to try him, Jack. _J. F_. Why, what has he been doing? (_Aside_, I say, old fellow, whatgame are you up to now?) _W. J_. Doing? why nothing. That's just it; something must be done withhim. He must come before the council: but I'm afraid he's not of muchuse to anyone. (_Aside_, I say, Jack, he is a mere jelly of fear: thinksthat we are going to kill him and eat him, I believe. I must carry it ona little longer; don't spoil all my fun. ) _J. F_. (_Aside_, _to_ W. J. ) Well, certainly he deserves it, but takecare that he doesn't die of fear on your hands, Bill. (_Aloud_) Well, the council will meet in a minute or two, and then we will take his case. _C. N_. (_to_ J. F. ) Oh, sir, sir, spare me and don't judge me! I'll beservant to you all my life! _W. J_. Why Nupkins, what's this? You promised to be a servant to _me_! _J. F_. Citizen Nupkins, I really must say thank-you for nothing. Whatthe deuce could I do with a servant? Now don't you trouble yourself; thecouncil will see to your affairs. And in good time here come theneighbours. [_Enter the Neighbours_, ROBERT PINCH, MART PINCH, _and others_. _W. J_. Now for it, Nupkins! Bear your own troubles as well as you usedto bear other peoples', and then you'll do very well. JACK FREEMAN _takes his seat on the ground under the tree, the othersstanding and sitting about him_: WILLIAM JOYCE _makes a show of guarding_NUPKINS, _at which the neighbours look rather astonished; but he nods andwinks to them, and they see there is some joke toward and say nothing_. _J. F_. Well, neighbours, what's the business to-day? _1st Neighbour_. I have to report that three loads of that oak for thehall-roof have come to hand; it's well-seasoned good timber, so thereneed be no hitch in the building now. _2nd Neighbour_. Well, chairman, we sent off the wool to thenorth-country communes last week, and they are quite satisfied with it. Their cloth has come to hand rather better than worse than the oldsample. _3rd Neighbour_. I have to report that the new wheel at the silk mill isgoing now, and makes a very great improvement. It gives us quite enoughpower even when the water is small; so we shan't want a steam-engineafter all. _J. F_. When do we begin wheat harvest? _3rd Neighbour_. Next Thursday in the ten-acre; the crop is heavy andthe weather looks quite settled; so we shall have a jolly time of it. _J. F_. Well, I'm glad I know in good time; for I never like to missseeing the first row of reapers going into the corn. Is there anythingelse? _W. J_. Well, there's one troublesome business, chairman (_looks_ _at_C. N. , _who trembles and moans_). There's that dog we caught, thatthief, that useless beast. What is to be done with him? _C. N_. (_Aside_, That's me! that's me! To think that a justice shouldbe spoken of in such language! What am I to do? What am I to do?) _2nd Neighbour_. Well, chairman, I think we must shoot him. Once athief always a thief, you see, with that kind of brute. I'm sorry, because he has been so badly brought up; and though he is an ugly dog, heis big and burly; but I must say that I think it must be done, and assoon as possible. He'll be after the girls if we don't do it at once! _C. N_. (_Aside_: What! have they got hold of that story, then?) _J. F_. Well, neighbours, what's to be said? anybody against it? Isthis unpleasant business agreed to? _All_. Agreed, agreed. _J. F_. Well, then, let the dog be shot. Bill, it's your turn for anugly job this time: you must do it. _W. J_. Well, if it must be, it must. I'll go and get a gun in aminute. _C. N_. Oh, God! to think of their disposing of a fellow-man's life withso little ceremony! And probably they will go and eat their dinnersafterwards and think nothing of it. (_Throwing himself on his kneesbefore_ JACK FREEMAN. ) Oh, your Socialist worship! Oh, citizen my lord!spare me, spare me! Send me to prison, load me with chains, but spare mylife! _J. F_. Why, what ails the man? Chains! we don't use chains for thatsort of thing. They're good to fasten up boats with, and for carts, andsuch like; so why should we waste them by ornamenting you with them? Andas to prison, we can't send you to prison, because we haven't got one. How could we have one? who would be the jailer? No, no; we can't bebothered with you in prison. You must learn to behave decently. _C. N_. What! have you no punishment but death, then? O! what am I todo? what am I to do? _1st Neighbour_. Do? Why, behave decently. _C. N_. But how can I behave decently when I'm dead? (_Moans_. ) _2nd Neighbour_. But, neighbour, you must die some time or another, youknow. Make the most of your time while you are alive. _C. N_. Have you the heart to say such things to a man whom you aregoing to shoot in a few minutes? How horrible! Oh, look here! if youhaven't got a prison, build one for me! or make one out of a cellar, andlock me up in it; but don't shoot me--don't! _W. J_. Well, old acquaintance, to want a prison all to your own cheek!This is individualism, with a vengeance! It beats Auberon Herbert. Butwho is going to shoot you? _C. N_. Why, you. He said shoot the dog (_weeping_). _W. J_. Well, citizen, I must say that either your estimate of yourselfis modest, or your conscience is bad, that you must take that title toyourself! No; it _is_ a bad business, but not so bad as that. It's notyou that we're going to shoot, but a poor devil of a dog--a real dog, with a tail, you know--who has taken to killing sheep. And I'm sorry tosay that social ethics have given me the job of shooting him. But come, now, you shall do it for me: you used to be a great upholder of capitalpunishment. _C. N_. But what are you going to do with me, then? How are you goingto punish me? _J. F_. Punish you? how can we punish you? who do you think is going todo such work as that! People punish others because they like to; and wedon't like to. Once more, learn to live decently. _G. N_. But how _am_ I to live? _J. F_. You must work a little. _C. N_. But what at, since you object to lawyers? _J. F_. Look round you, friend, at the fields all yellowing forharvest, --we will find you work to do. _C. N_. (_Aside_: Ah, I see. This means hard labour for life, after all. Well, I must submit. Unhappy Nupkins! _To_ FREEMAN) But who is toemploy me? You will have to find me a master; and perhaps he won't liketo employ me. _J. F_. My friend, we no more have masters than we have prisons: thefirst make the second. You must employ yourself: and you must alsoemploy something else. _C. N_. What? I don't understand. _J. F_. Mother Earth, and the traditions and devices of all thegenerations of men whom she has nourished. All that is for you, Nupkins, if you only knew it. _C. N_. I still do not comprehend your apologue. _J. F_. No? Well, we must put aside abstractions and get to theconcrete. What's this, citizen? (_showing a spade_. ) _C. N_. That is an instrument for effodiation. _J. F_. Otherwise called a spade. Well, to use your old jargon, citizen, the sentence of this court is that you do take this instrumentof effodiation, commonly called a spade, and that you do effodiate yourlivelihood therewith; in other words, that you do dig potatoes and otherroots and worts during the pleasure of this court. And, to drop jargon, since you are so badly educated our friend Robert Pinch--Mary'shusband--will show you how to do it. Is that agreed to, neighbours? _All_. Agreed, agreed. _W. J_. (_rather surlily_). I don't think he will get on well. Now heknows we are not going to serve him out, he is beginning to look sour onus for being happy. You see, he will be trying some of his old lawyers'tricks again. _J. F_. Well, Bill, it won't much matter. He can't hurt us; so we willhope the best for him. _M. P_. Should we hurt his feelings by being a little merry in hispresence now? _J. F_. Well, I think we may risk it. Let those of you who are not toolazy to dance, as I am, do so to the tune that sprang up at the dawn offreedom in the days of our great-grandfathers. [_They dance round_ CITIZEN NUPKINS, _singing the following words to thetune of the_ "_Carmagnole_": _What's this that the days and the days have done_? _Man's lordship over man hath gone_. _How fares it, then, with high and low_? _Equal on earth, they thrive and grow_. _Bright is the sun for everyone_; _Dance we, dance we the Carmagnole_. _How deal ye, then, with pleasure and pain_? _Alike we share and bear the twain_. _And what's the craft whereby ye live_? _Earth and man's work to all men give_. _How crown ye excellence of worth_? _With leave to serve all men on earth_. _What gain that lordship's past and done_? _World's wealth for all and every one_. [FREEMAN _and_ NUPKINS _come to the front_. * * * * * _J. F_. Well, Nupkins, you see you have got the better of us damnedSocialists after all. For in times past you used to bully us and send usto prison and hang us, and we had to put up with it; and now you andyours are no longer masters, there _are_ no masters, and there is nobodyto bully you. How do you like it, old fellow? (_clapping him on theshoulder_. ) _C. N_. (_bursting into tears_). A world without lawyers!--oh, dear! oh, dear! To think that I should have to dig potatoes and see everybodyhappy! _J. F_. Well, Nupkins, you must bear it. And for my part, I can't bevery sorry that you feel it so keenly. When scoundrels lament that theycan no longer be scoundrels for lack of opportunity, it is certain thatTHE TABLES ARE TURNED. THE END. Printed and Published at the COMMONWEAL Office, 13 Farrington Road, London, E. C. WORKS BY WILLIAM MORRIS. _Library Edition_, 4 _vols, cr. 8vo_, 2 pounds. THE EARTHLY PARADISE: A Poem in four parts. _The Vols. Separately as below_. Vols I. And II. , SPRING and SUMMER, _ninth edition_, 16_s_. Vo III. , AUTUMN, _seventh edition_ . . . 12_s_. Vol. IV. , WINTER, _seventh edition_ . . . 12_s_. _Popular Edition of_THE EARTHLY PARADISE, in 10 parts, sm. Post 8vo, at 2_s_. 6_d_. _each_. do. Do. In 5 vols, at 5s. _each_. _Second Edition_, _crown_ 8_vo_, 382 _pp_. , 14_s_. THE AENEIDS OF VIRGIL. Done into English Verse. _Third Edition_, _crown_ 8_vo_, 217 _pp_. , 4_s_ 6_d_. HOPES AND FEARS FOR ART. Five Lectures delivered in Birmingham, London, etc. , in 1878 1881. _Second Edition, crown_ 8_vo_, 304 _pp_. , 8_s_. THE STORY OF GRETTIR THE STRONG. Translated from the Icelandic, byEIRIKR MAGNUSSON and WILLIAM MORRIS. _Crown_ 8_vo_, 248 _pp_. , 8_s_. THE DEFENCE OF GUENEVERE, and other Poems. Reprinted without alterationfrom the Edition of 1858. _Eighth Edition, Post_ 8_vo_, 376 _pp_. , _revised by the Author_. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON: a Poem. _Fourth Edition, post_ 8_vo_, 6_s_. THE STORY OF SIGURD THE VOLSUNG, and the Fall of the Niblungs. _Third Edition, sq. Post_ 8_vo_, 134 _pp_. , 7_s_. 6_d_. _With Design onside in gold_. LOVE IS ENOUGH, or the Freeing of Pharamond. A Morality. _In preparation_. A DREAM OF JOHN BALL. Reprinted from _Commonweal_. * * * * * _London_: _REEVES & TURNER_, 196 _STRAND_, _W. C_. THE COMMONWEAL, 1d. (Official Journal of the Socialist League. ) 1d. Exponent of International Revolutionary Socialism. Published for thepurpose of counteracting the evil influence of the corrupt capitalistpress by printing the truth, and placing before the working people foodfor thought and reflection upon their Industrial, social, and politicalconditions, to the end that they may emancipate themselves fromwage-slavery and landlordism. * * * * * _Price One Penny_. THE MANIFESTO OF THE SOCIALIST LEAGUE. With Explanatory Notes by WILLIAM MORRIS and E. B. BAX. * * * * * "ALL FOR THE CAUSE!" A Song for Socialists. WORDS BY WILLIAM MORRIS. MUSIC BY E. BELFORT BAX. _4 pp. 4to, 6d. Per dozen, 4s. 6d_. * * * * * Art and Socialism. By WILLIAM MORRIS. Price 3d. Chants for Socialists. By WILLIAM MORRIS. --1. The Day is Coming; 2. TheVoice of Toll; 3. All for the Cause; 4. No Master; 5. The March of theWorkers; 6. The Message of the March Wind; 7. Down Among the Dead Men. 16 pp. Cr. 8vo. , 1d. Organised Labour: The Duty of the Trades Unions in Relation to Socialism. By THOMAS BINNING (London Society of Compositors). 1d. Trades Unions. By ERNEST BELFORT BAX. 1d. The Commune of Paris. By E. B. BAX, VICTOR DAVE, and WILLIAM MORRIS. 2d. Useful Work _v_. Useless Toil. By WILLIAM MORRIS. 3d. * * * * * SOCIALIST LEAGUE OFFICE, 13 FARRINGDON ROAD, LONDON, E. C.