ts
were to be called in evidence, you would not attend the trial, though
the seat of honour next to the judge were accorded to you. Those
be-wigged ones, who are the performers, are so insufferably long in
their parts, so arrogant in their bearing,--so it strikes you, though
doubtless the fashion of working has been found to be efficient
for the purposes they have in hand,--and so uninteresting in their
repetition, that you first admire, and then question, and at last
execrate the imperturbable patience of the judge, who might, as you
think, force the thing through in a quarter of the time without any
injury to justice. And it will probably strike you that the length
of the trial is proportioned not to the complicity but to the
importance, or rather to the public interest, of the case,--so
that the trial which has been suggested of a disappointed and
bloody-minded ex-Prime Minister would certainly take at least a
fortnight, even though the Speaker of the House of Commons and the
Lord Chancellor had seen the blow struck, whereas a collier may knock
his wife's brains out in the dark and be sent to the gallows with
a trial that shall not last three hours. And yet the collier has
to be hung,--if found guilty,--and no one thinks that his life is
improperly endangered by reckless haste. Whether lives may not be
improperly saved by the more lengthened process is another question.

But the honours of such benchfellowship can be accorded but to few,
and the task becomes very tiresome when the spectator has to enter
the Court as an ordinary mortal. There are two modes open to him,
either of which is subject to grievous penalties. If he be the
possessor of a decent coat and hat, and can scrape any acquaintance
with any one concerned, he may get introduced to that overworked and
greatly perplexed official, the under-sheriff, who will stave him off
if possible,--knowing that even an under-sheriff cannot make space
elastic,--but, if the introduction has been acknowledged as good,
will probably find a seat for him if he persevere to the end. But
the seat when obtained must be kept in possession from morning to
evening, and the fight must be renewed from day to day. And the
benches are hard, and the space is narrow, and you feel that the
under-sheriff would prod you with his sword if you ventured to
sneeze, or to put to your lips the flask which you have in your
pocket. And then, when all the benchfellows go out to lunch at
half-past