Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, August 18, 1894Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, August 18, 1894
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
"JUSTICE AS SHE IS SPOKEN IN FRANCE."
DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Now that we are close upon the silly season, when it is
most difficult to get interesting "copy" for the columns of the daily
papers, may I be permitted to make a suggestion? No doubt you have seen
an account of the examination of CASERIO SANTO by the President of the
Court on the occasion of his trial. Could not the idea be naturalised in
London by the Metropolitan Police Magistrates? I would not, of course,
propose to apply the method in cases of a serious character, but used in
what are known as "the night charges," the practice would become very
interesting. To better explain my meaning. I will imagine that a
prisoner who has been arrested on a charge of being "drunk and
incapable" is standing in front of his worship.
_Magistrate_ (_with sarcasm_). You are sober now.
_Prisoner_ (_in the same tone_). As a judge.
_Magistrate_ (_indignantly_). Judges are always sober.
_Prisoner_ (_with a laugh_). How should _you_ know?--you, who are only a
magistrate!
[_Murmurs._
_Magistrate._ You insult me! But that will not serve you. Drink is the
curse of the country!
_Prisoner._ You have tried it? It has been a curse to you!
[_Cries of disapproval._
_Magistrate._ You are young to bandy words with one old enough to be
your father!
_Prisoner._ My father! You my father! What an honour!
_Magistrate._ I do not envy him! Nor your mother!
_Prisoner_ (_excitedly_). You shall not speak of my mother. My mother is
sacred. She shall not be referred to in the tainted atmosphere of a
Court of Justice.
[_Applause._
_Magistrate._ This hypocrisy shall not serve you. You never loved your
mother!
[_Prolonged sensation._
_Prisoner._ Your worship, you are a liar!
[_Loud cheers._
_Magistrate._ This to the Bench from the gutter! For you know
you were found drunk and incapable in the gutter. What were you
doing there?
_Prisoner_ (_tearfully_). I was dreaming of my mother, my loved
mother.
[_Sympathetic applause._
_Magistrate._ You do not deserve to have a mother!
[_Prolonged sensation._
_Prisoner_ (_scornfully_). Only a magistrate could make such a
cold-blooded observation!
[_Cheers._
_Magistrate._ For all that you are fined five shillings and costs!
Remove the wretched prisoner!
[_The accused was then removed amidst expressions of sympathy from
the body of the Court._
There, Sir, would not that be far better reading than paragraphs
about gigantic gooseberries and leaders upon the sea serpent?
Perhaps my suggestion may be adopted in the proper quarter.
Hoping that this may be the case, the police case,
I remain,
Yours respectfully,
THE MAN IN THE REPORTER'S BOX.
* * * * *
NOBLESSE OBLIGE.
(_New Version._)
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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