Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/266

17, 1860.] in a peculiarly bland manner at Mr. Battledove whilst he endeavoured to whisper something into the ear of the old Judge who was trying the case; but apparently without effect. Mr. Battledove’s manner underwent an instant change.

“But now, gentlemen, for the facts of this case. We seek for an absolute dissolution of the most unfortunate union into which Mrs. Barber—then Miss Cecilia Montresor—was entrapped by the artifices of the unworthy Respondent in this case. Unworthy I may well call him, for that he is, upon his own showing. Whatever you may think of the facts which I am about to submit to you, you can’t entertain a moment’s doubt as to his character. He courts an adverse verdict from you on the first point, as the greatest favour you could bestow upon him. Rid him of his wife, and give him his wife’s money—that’s what he wants. The spectacle of her young cheeks sodden with the hot tears which his brutality has caused to flow is too much for his tender heart: like the Antonio of Shylock’s sarcasm, ‘Money is his prayer.’ Give him but money and he will go away infamous and contented. And whose money, gentlemen?—his wife’s money. The money that young and innocent girl brought with her as her dower—for, as I am instructed, the little that Mr. Barber ever had he made away with within three months after coming of age in infamous but unfortunate speculations connected with the Turf. It is his wife’s money he wants—he is sick of her person—her heart and soul such a man was never in a condition to appreciate. But if you give him his wife’s money, what will he do with it? Why he’ll spend it with that distinguished French lady, who, for the moment, retains a hold—and he does not deny it—upon what he calls his affections. Oh! yes, take Ruth’s portion, and cast it to Jezabel. Take Mrs. Barber’s money—and give it to her abandoned husband. It will help him to satisfy his vicious desires—to continue his profligate career—or, as he himself would phrase it, ‘to carry on the war. ”

Here Mr. Battledove paused for a moment, turned round, and glanced at Mr. Barber with an expression of paternal severity which was perfectly appalling.

“As I am instructed, Gentlemen, Miss Cecilia Montresor—then but seventeen years of age—was residing with her parents in Cadogan Place, when she saw Mr. Barber for the first time. I am not about, Gentlemen, to excuse, however I may attempt to palliate the conduct of my client, when tell you that Mr. Barber forced himself upon her notice in the ride at Hyde Pork. Her habit was—but with the full permission of her parents—to take her exercise there upon horseback every day attended by a groom. Mr. Barber corrupted the groom. They soon understood each other. They were kindred spirits, and the wretched man was induced to violate his sacred trust. I fully and freely admit that Miss Montresor ought at once to have given him in charge, when he began to persecute her with his attentions, or at least to have informed her parents of the circumstance. She did not so, and bitterly has she since rued her imprudence; but, at any rate, whatever amount of blame may attach to her, I think no one will, for a moment, contend that Mr. Barber—a man of the world—a person whom I may well designate as an adventurer—was not infinitely more to blame. The result of this clandestine and most improper intercourse was, that Mr. Barber, by perjury, procured a licence—although the young lady was four years under age, and they were married in the church of Gobblegate Within. Mr. Barber then accompanied the young lady—now, alas! his wife—back to the residence of her parents—threw himself upon his knees before the afflicted mother, and craved her forgiveness and her blessing. Mr. Montresor had actually raised his foot for the purpose of kicking him out of doors, but was restrained by the tears and agony of his daughter—of that most unfortunate lady who, since that time has been so often the victim of his brutality and barbarous violence, and who sits before you this day a helpless woman indeed, unless you, Gentlemen—and I think I can foretell what the action of twelve Englishmen will be in such a case—interfere to protect her from further contumely and wrong. Mr. Barber, however, was forgiven at length by the afflicted parents, but upon the condition that Mrs. Barber’s fortune should be settled on herself.”

There was at this moment an interruption from a scuffle at the door, which was under the guardianship of the policeman with the red whiskers. Silence was proclaimed by the usher, but in vain. Matters indeed went so far that Sir Cresswell actually put up his double eye-glasses, and I trembled to think what might come next, when the upshot was that an elderly nurse-looking sort of woman made her way into court, and to Mrs. Barber’s side. Mr. Lamb rose up, and from a glance which I intercepted between him and the intruder I could not,—perhaps I was wrong,—help suspecting that he had anticipated this little incident. Be this however as it may, he whispered a few words to Mr. Battledove, who continued:

“I must explain, my Luds, and apologise for this interruption. This is the person who received my client in her arms when she drew her first breath—who tended her—who brought her up—who cherished her—and comforted her in her youth, and has ever been ready to stand by her side in this the hour of her affliction. Mrs. Gollop, gentlemen, has nature’s right to be here, but she has a technical right as well, for she is a witness in the cause. To proceed, Mr. and Mrs. Barber were married, and Mr. Barber was forgiven; but within a few days after the marriage he commenced the series of unmanly outrages upon her, of which she is here to-day to complain. These, for the sake of greater convenience, I will divide into two heads—majora delicta, grosser outrages—and minora delicta, lesser grievances, though grievances hard of endurance by a sensitive and delicately-nurtured lady who, in her childhood, had been the delight—the idol—the sunshine of her own family circle! I will now address myself to the category of majora delicta, or grosser outages. Mr. Barber then took his wife to the house of his sisters, in Cornwall,