Second Sitting

p. 21On the re-assembling of the Court, the Clerk of the Court read the information filed against the defendants on behalf of the Incorporated Scientific Era Protection Society. It set forth that

The Defendants

were ringleaders of a sect or party believing in the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, crucified by Pontius Pilate; that they were active preachers of the doctrine that this Jesus was now alive, and was coming again to the earth, and had authority from God to judge mankind at his coming in accordance with the commandments he delivered while on earth; that the said doctrines were operating hurtfully among the people; and if the activity of the defendants were not restrained by law, great harm would ultimately accrue to the community.

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief, D.C.: May it please your Lordship and Gentlemen of the Jury: I have the honour to appear in this case on behalf of The Incorporated p. 22 Scientific Era Society, to ask the Court to issue an injunction against a number of persons, whom we describe as Paul Christman and others, restraining them from certain proceedings which we contend are hurtful not only to themselves, but to society in general, of which the Scientific Era Society have become the special guardians. It will not be necessary for me to detain the Court very long in stating our case, as the facts will mainly be admitted by the defendants. The case will mainly turn on the admissibility or otherwise of the defendants’ plea in justification. They allege certain things to be facts which we contend are the idle illusions of a heated brain. The leading features of the case are notorious to all the world. The defendants are decent enough people in themselves. I have nothing to say against their characters except in so far as they are narrowed and embittered by the doctrines they have espoused with such zeal. They are well-meaning enough. What we complain of is, their incessant efforts to propagate a doctrine which logically, carried out, would stop the entire machinery of human life as now conducted.

That doctrine, as the Court is aware, relates to one, Jesus Christ, whose name has obtained much celebrity in the world. As with the defendants, his followers, so with Christ himself: I have nothing to say against him in a moral sense. He was an exemplary character who flourished for a short time in the reign of Tiberius Cæsar, when the Roman Empire was in its highest glory. If he had confined himself to those excellent maxims which are associated with his name, there would have been no need for us to appear here to-day. But, unfortunately, along with perhaps the noblest conceptions of morality that have ever been published to the world, there was blended certain fanatical convictions of a personal character, which have done more than anything else to estrange man from man, and to infuse bitterness into the relations of mankind everywhere. Besides teaching the purest ethics, Jesus Christ gave himself out to be of higher origin than ordinary men. He put himself forward as a man having a personal mission with regard to futurity. He taught p. 23 the doctrine of a personal God in its intensest form, and he gave himself out as the son of God. He taught his disciples that he had come down from heaven in some mystical sense; that he had come in some way to give life to the world; that the sacrifice of his life was necessary to the accomplishment of this mission; that after his death he would rise again, and depart to heaven from whence he had come, and that he would return again to the earth at some long future time; and that when he should so come, he would raise and glorify the bodies of his deceased friends, and erect, in conjunction with them, a government which would incorporate all other governments within itself, and rule all mankind in some beatific manner that would introduce an age of glory. We must, of course, admit that this Utopian programme has something magnificent in it, and reflects the benevolence and mental splendour of its illustrious author of Nazareth. As a poetic conception, we cannot but admire it; but as practical men, we are here to-day to look at the practical bearing of things, and what I have to submit to the Court is that this fine conception, while magnificent enough as an abstraction for an ideal mind to contemplate in private, becomes a positive public evil when it is promulgated as a matter of practical truth, and preached as an affair for the regulation of private conduct. I must ask your Lordship to look at the working of the thing. I am prepared with evidence on this point. I shall call witnesses who will tell you how entirely the reception of this doctrine has changed good and useful men into morose fanatics, and have drawn them aside from that friendly commerce with their kind which constitutes the basis of the social compact in all directions.

His Lordship: I do not see, on the first blush of the thing, why it should have any such effects.

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: It is in this way, your Lordship. The founder of Christianity has offered to those who believe in his personal pretensions a personal share in his beatification when, as he has said, he should return. He offered to give them an immortal nature, as I understand it, and a position of authority in the kingdom p. 24 which he said he would establish at his return. This, of course, is a powerful motive where such a fantasy is earnestly entertained; and here is where it operates injuriously: the founder of Christianity required of all who should receive his doctrine that they should consider themselves a separate caste among mankind. He said he did not belong to the world himself, and that his followers equally were to consider themselves not of this world. In a celebrated prayer of his, he did not exactly pray that they might be taken out of the world (though I think that would have been a consistent prayer). He prayed that they might be kept separate from it, or something of the sort. The men who became his apostles caught up the same doctrine and taught it in a very decided manner. Peter was the foremost of them, I understand, and he told his fellow-believers that they were strangers and pilgrims, and that they were to pass their time among other men, not in the sociality and joviality which in reasonable measure is the charm of life, but “with fear.” Paul, another of them, recommends sobriety and gravity, and nonconformity and peculiarity, and tells them they have no continuing city, but seek for one to come. I am not exactly quoting, but I give you the substance of their words. We have to be thankful that the better sense of the vast majority of professed believers neutralizes the effect of such teaching, otherwise there would be no such thing as living in Christendom. Unfortunately, however, there are cases of a different sort—cases in which every friendly sentiment towards mankind is extinguished, and a harsh and sterile fanaticism established in its place, amounting to hatred of their kind. This is the case with the defendants. It is no uncharity, but a simple conformity with truth, to describe them as man-haters. I am aware that this is no new charge. It was brought against the Christians, I believe, in the days of Nero, and other early Roman reigns. Of course it was resented on their behalf, but, I believe, unjustly so. It seems to me the logical result of their principles. If they look upon you, my Lord, and myself, and men in general, as so much rubbish at the bottom apart from their special craze, it p. 25 seems to me to be an inevitable result—they should hate us. They may disclaim such a result at the outstart, but sooner or later, such principles must lead to such a result. Nay, their master, with all his excellence, inculcates it. He tells his disciples that they cannot serve two masters,—meaning himself and the world,—that if they hold to the one they must hate the other; and as above all things he tells them to hold to him, it follows that it was agreeable to him that they should hate the world. In fact, one of the apostles plainly says that if a man is a friend of the world, he is the enemy of God, and that friendship with the world is hatred with God, and vice versa, or something to that effect.

His Lordship: Is it not the principles of the two systems that are in question in those cases?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: I think not, my Lord. The cases I have to submit to your Lordship are cases in which the men embracing the doctrines of the defendants have not only given up the principles of the world, but have given up the world itself.

His Lordship: Do you mean they have retired to monasteries?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: No, my Lord, they have not given up the world in that sense: but they might as well have done so. They have ceased their connection with the world in a variety of ways. They used to take prominent part in public affairs; now they are never to be seen at public meetings of any kind. They used to be useful men at election times—nobody more useful. They would be met in the committee rooms, or in the streets hunting up voters, and doing all that in them lay to secure the return of the candidate who in their enlightened judgment was most calculated to benefit the country by his services. Now, they simply stay away and leave all the hard work to those whom they vulgarly style “the Gentiles.” They used to be seen at entertainments of all sorts with their fellow-men—those many innocent recreations by which the overwrought and jaded minds of men in various ways are relaxed and re-invigorated. Now they make it a virtue to refrain. You never see them on p. 26 the race-course; you never meet them at the club meeting; you never see them at the lodge; you cannot get them to the social glass; they are scarcely to be met with even at concerts; and as for the theatre—an institution, my Lord, which I need not observe, has done more than anything in our day to teach virtue by example—you might as well expect to meet them at the bottom of the Atlantic as expect to meet them there. This is not all, my Lord. Their abstention from the duties of social life is more complete—more astounding I was about to say—than will be inferred from these facts. They actually go so far as to refuse to vote, or to serve as special constables. They even refuse to join their fellow-townsmen in the commonest civic duties; and it is with them a settled principle that even in the case of the invasion of her Majesty’s^a dominions, they would refuse to take up arms. They are, in fact, in as complete isolation in the community, as it is possible for a man to be, without absolutely retiring to the desert.

Now, my Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury, I cannot think it necessary that I should point out to you at any length, how completely inconsistent such an attitude is with the commonest duties of life. You are well aware that society is one vast co-operative society, and that if any section of the community refuse to do their part, there must come a paralysis of the machinery of life. Where would all our advances in political improvement have been,—where all our social development,—where our scientific progress,—where, in a word, all the advantages and enlightenment for which our age is celebrated,—if the principles of the defendants were to obtain a footing? I need not say that we should have stagnation; and worse than stagnation; we should have disorganization and chaos and ruin; every form of public good would be neglected; every reform postponed; every grievance unredressed. The lower and the baser elements of society would obtain the upper hand; order and civilization must needs come to an end, for I omitted to remind your Lordship that it is p. 27 a principle of these misguided people not to use coercive measures of any kind, either with regard to their own people or strangers. They act implicitly on the advice given by their founder. They resist not evil; they regard it as their duty when one cheek is smitten to turn the other also: it is a maxim with them not to go to law. If all were to accept their principles, we should have no police, no law courts, no military establishment. Nay, my Lord, we should not even have the useful civilizing institution of a State Church, which, much as I disagree with it in some things, I venerate, as a bulwark of our liberties, and humanizer of the harshness that more or less characterize all men in their primitive state. The whole fabric of society would crumble to ruins under the action of such principles as the defendants are propagating; life would be robbed of its grace and its charms; and civilization would be helplessly exposed to the assaults of the lawlessness that lurks more or less at the basis of all society in all countries.

I contend that we are justified, in our capacity of guardians of the interests of this Scientific Era, in seeking the aid of the law to stop this mischief. We do not ask the defendants to give up their views: we ask the Court to direct and enjoin them to desist from all further endeavours to impose their views upon others. This we have a right to ask in the interests of society. The mischief will die of itself if it is once isolated like the smallpox, or boycotted like an Irish landlord, my Lord—an allusion, you will allow, peculiarly suitable to the crisis that has been harassing the Government for some time past. The present believers of the doctrine we oppose will, of course, soon die out; and if they are prohibited from extending their views, it is very certain that no one will take them up of their own accord, and thus the movement will be effectually checkmated.

His Lordship: I understand you to contend that the defendants are not justified in holding the doctrines they advocate?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: Yes, my Lord; we do not propose to ask the Court to forbid them holding the doctrines, but to restrain them from propagating them.

p. 28 His Lordship: But what you say is that the founder of the Christians had no authority to enjoin these commandments which you object to, upon those who might believe in him?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: We admit the founder of Christianity was a great moral reformer, but we do not admit that he had any authority to make his principles binding.

His Lordship: You say he was an impostor?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: We do not like to put it in that way exactly. He was not an impostor in the vulgar sense. We think he was a self-deceived enthusiast.

His Lordship: You think he did no miracles?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: We have no doubt he performed some wonderful cures which created a public impression and led to the idea of miracles; but we do not believe that he performed real miracles.

His Lordship: You say he did not rise from the dead?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: We do not believe he rose from the dead.

His Lordship: If it could be proved he rose from the dead, would it alter your estimate of the proceedings of the defendants?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: We should, of course, have a new problem to consider; but I apprehend, my Lord, that such a hypothesis can never arise.

His Lordship: I merely wish to see the nature of the issue before me. You ask that these defendants may be restrained from propagating a certain doctrine on the ground that the doctrine is hurtful in its effects on society. I do not at present say whether it is hurtful or not. I place before you the hypothesis of the doctrine being true to elicit your views as to how your proceeding will be affected in that case.

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: I confess, my Lord, I have not considered the case in that light. I assume that such a view of the case is out of the question.

His Lordship: I do not see that we can leave it out of the question. It is possible the defence may proceed on that line.

p. 29 Sir. N. Acceptorof Alltruth: Yes, my Lord; that will be our defence. I will contend not only that our doctrines are not hurtful to society, but that they are true, and that as the authority of Christ overrides all human law, the defendants have no alternative but to pursue the course from which the plaintiffs would restrain them.

His Lordship: The question, then, is really, whether there is evidence of Christ having risen?

Sir N. Acceptorof Alltruth: That, I apprehend, will be the issue.

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: Such a narrowing of the issue will tie the hands of the plaintiffs considerably. We take it for granted that the resurrection of Christ is out of the question, and that the only issue to go before the Jury is whether or not, the proceedings of the defendants are calculated to inflict harm on the community.

Sir N. Acceptorof Alltruth: I apprehend my friend is mistaken in his mode of viewing the case. It will doubtless be competent for him, if he can, to show that our proceedings are hurtful to society; but he cannot leave out of the purview of the case the far more material question whether we are justified in our proceedings by a higher consideration than even the welfare of society, so considered.

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: I say that all other considerations, higher or otherwise, are outside the province and competence of the Court. The Court has no power to go outside the question of society’s welfare.

His Lordship: But surely the resurrection or non-resurrection of Christ is a question affecting the welfare of society; suppose his resurrection is a fact, will it not follow that what Mr. Partialfact Unbelief styled the “utopian programme” associated with Christ’s doctrine, may be realized? Will not, in that case, the welfare of society be promoted in the highest degree, and would not the restraining of the defendants be an interference to some extent with the realization of that welfare?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: I confess, my Lord, I had not looked at the matter in that light.

His Lordship: Would it not be well to take it into your consideration, and conduct your case with a view to it?

p. 30 Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: I can of course adopt that course since your Lordship thinks it advisable; but I had not come to-day to do more than to show cause for the injunction, in the hurtful nature of the defendants’ proceedings.

His Lordship: You can proceed with that part of the case, and by to-morrow, you may be ready to follow the defendants in the plea they may set up on the other.

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: Very well, my Lord. I call my first witness.

P. C. Steeple, 666

Examined by Mr. Dontwanto Believeanyhow: Steeple, you are a member of the Police Force, I believe?—Yes; the most respectable part of it.

You mean the international police?—Not exactly the international police, but the all-nation police—everywhere.

That is how you describe it, is it?—That is how as it is; we are everywhere to keep the peace. You may see us on hills and valleys, town and country, all through the world.

Well, never mind; only answer the questions.—That is all very well, if you ask the right questions. Our force requires to be treated with respect.

I will see to that; just you give your evidence in a proper manner.—I always do. I belong to the Steeple police as has kept the world in wonderful good order for a long time. My number is 666. It is considered a bad number by such folks as them there defendants as you have got in the box; but in my opinion it is the respectablest number that ever came out of my old grandmother’s arithmetic book. It is a neat, square, even, level, equal number. It frightens the folk on my beat, I can tell you.

Mr. Dontwanto Believeanyhow: I am afraid the witness is under the influence of liquor.

Sir N. Acceptorof Alltruth: No doubt he is. He is famed for his fondness for the wine of the Old Mother’s cup.

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: What do you mean?

Mr. British Protoplasm: Our friend is Apocalyptic in p. 31 his allusions. I am afraid it will not throw much light on the subject.

Mr. Dontwanto Believeanyhow: Now, witness, you must give your evidence in a proper manner. You must leave your drink for the moment and let us have the facts.—Facts! I will let you know some facts. You don’t want facts; I don’t deal in anything but facts, real celestial facts, by the Blessed Peter. You talk of drink: I am as sober as a judge, begging your pardon. I haven’t had anything to-day, especially since morning. Of course I had a drop from the landlady of the Keys and Sceptre, but it wouldn’t hurt a three-and-a-half-year old. Everybody has a drop o’ that every day everywhere. Them defendants says as how the world is drunk with it: its just as true as I’m drunk. I tell you I will give you the facts. You ought to lock up those scoundrels. You’ll never have peace till you does. They’re always a-blazing about and setting folk by the ears.

His Lordship: Is it worth while going on with this witness?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: I doubt it, my Lord: we can dispense with him. I called him to prove his acquaintance with the defendants and the nature of their proceedings. I can get it from another witness.

Mr. Dontwanto Believeanyhow: Witness, you may step down.

Witness: How’s that? You haven’t done with me, have you? I could tell you such a lot about them fellows.

Mr. Dontwanto Believeanyhow: We don’t want it to-day.

Witness: Oh, another day? Very well; good morning, gentlemen, and be sure and stop them fellows or we’ll never have a bit o’ peace.

The Clerk: Who do you call next?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: Mr. Town Gossip.

Mr. Town Gossip

Examined by Mr. Dontwanto Believeanyhow: Mr. Gossip, I believe you are a retired tradesman?—Yes, sir.

p. 32 Living in the town of Babelton?—Yes, sir.

I believe, when you were in business, you followed the trade or occupation of———?—Well, sir, general dealer, sir; nothing came amiss, sir.

But your principal occupation was—hair-dressing, I believe?—Yes, sir; I did a bit of hair-dressing, and a bit of most things, sir. I had what is called a general shop. I kept baths and sold papers and general fancy articles. Then I opened the shop next door as a general outfitting place, and the place next door the other way as a refreshment bar and a high-class confectionery. I used to get up parties, and do a little bit of undertaking, sir, as it came in my way.

You were rather an enterprising man?—Well, yes, sir. I tried to do my best.

And as a matter of fact you were a successful man as well as an enterprising man?—Well, sir, I did fairly well. I have nothing to complain of.

I believe you were a member of the board of Guardians and held a seat on the Town Council?—I believe so, sir.

Did your position in the town bring you into contact with all classes of people?—Yes, sir; I have seen a good many people in my time.

Were you, as a matter of fact, acquainted with most people in the town?—Well, yes sir; I think I knew something about most of them.

Did you know the defendants?—I knew some of them, sir; I cannot say as I knew all.

Which of them did you know?—Well, sir, I may say I knew most of them in a general way, but I did not know them particular, like. I knowed most of their fathers. My boys went to school with some of them.

That must be a long time ago?—Yes, sir; it is a goodish while.

Well, what do you know about them?—They are very decent sort of people.

Decent sort of people?—Yes; I’ve knowed worse people than them, a deal.

Are they the sort of people that suit you exactly in all ways, then?—Well, I don’t know about that.

p. 33 Well, come, let us know about it. We want to know what you think?—I don’t think much wrong of them.

Did they used to come to your refreshment bar?—Oh, yes; at one time they used to come reg’lar.

Did they give up coming, then?—Yes, they gave up coming at last.

Were you well pleased they gave up coming?—Well, of course, it would ha’ been better for me if they’d a kep’ on.

That is what I want you to come to.—Oh.

Why did they give up coming?—Well, I suppose they took some notions in their head.

That is what I want you to tell us about, man.—Oh, I see. Something or other spoilt them. They took to meetin’ and preachin’ and them sort o’ things. It was said in the town they went crazy.

Do you know why it was said in the town they went crazy?—Well, they changed their ways so.

Tell us how they changed their ways.—Well, there’s Paul Christman—the head of the lot; he used to be a reg’lar go-ahead in everything. When there was anything going on, you didn’t catch him indoors, I tell you. He was first man runnin’ and boatin’ and cricketin’. In fair time, he was up to all the jinks out; he’d bet with the biggest at the races. At election times there was no holdin’ of him. He went reg’lar wild with a lot of fellows, shouting “for ever” on the streets and getting people to vote. I have heard him make a speech or two at such times.

Yes, anything else?—Well, he was a reg’lar jolly good fellow; everybody liked him.

And doesn’t everybody like him now?—Not so much as they used to.

How’s that?—Well, I suppose he isn’t exactly as he used to be.

How is he now?—He’s quiet, like, and has taken to different ways. He doesn’t go out among the folks as he used to. He stops at home a good deal and reads, and when he goes out, it is to have a quiet walk or to go to see somebody that’s unwell or poor, or perhaps to a meeting, or to distribute tracts, or something of that sort. He’s p. 34 not sociable as he used to be. I believe they say it’s softening of the brain that is the matter.

What do you think is the matter?—Nay, I cannot tell. I don’t believe, to tell the truth, that softening of the brain has anything to do with it. I believe it’s them notions.

What notions?—Well, about Christ. I believe he thinks Christ is coming and that the world is going to end, or something of that sort.

You don’t let such notions trouble you, Mr. Gossip?—No; I believe it’s best to leave such things alone, and do the best you can for yourself and your neighbour. I don’t see the good of being so very unsociable.

Well, now, that is about Paul Christman; can you tell us about any of the others?—Well, there is Joseph Arimathea. I used to know a good deal about him.

What did you know about him?—He was what I should call a real gentleman. He is a handsome fellow, as you can see. His father was a handsome fellow before him. He was one of our magistrates, and at one time was mayor of the town. I can remember him very well. The family property, I am sorry to say, has changed hands since then. The family lived in the outskirts, and moved among the very highest folks.

Come to Joseph himself.—Joseph was a very nice young man, but fond of hunting and gaiety—not that he took too much, or anything of that sort, but he was always in company and liked it, and the company liked him I do believe—he was so very lively and smart every way—a good story teller and could make a capital joke. Everybody knew him in town. Everybody was his friend, and he was the friend of everybody. He had no particular taste for books: still, he went to church occasionally.

Well, what has happened to him?—Well, there’s nothing particular happened, barrin’ these notions.

What have the notions done for him?—They’ve changed him considerably. He’s not the lively joking fellow he used to be. He is much more serious—too serious by half. He does not go into company as he used to do. He works a deal with Paul Christman. I cannot make out exactly what is between them, but they stick very close together.

p. 35 Do you know anything else about him?—I don’t know as there is anything else particular. He sold his horses and took to spending a lot of money in books and meetin’s and poor people and such like.

Is he as useful a man in the town as he used to be?—Well, I cannot say as how he was ever particularly useful, but certainly he is not so much about town as he used to be. His friends cannot get him to be with them as he used to. He has taken to another lot of people altogether, which it is a wonder he could mix with such people—people far below him every way. I cannot see what he gets doin’ with such people for. It’s a surprise in the town altogether, but folks has got accustomed to it.

You think the notions have not agreed with him?—I should say the notions have spoiled him, quite.

Can you tell us anything about the others?—There’s Luke Physicus; he was a very promising rising man. He was none of your harem-scarems, but a real steady, respectable young man, going in for the medical profession.

Well, what about him?—His friends say these notions have been his ruin. He might have been riding in his carriage by now. He is a young man of great talent. He might have been at the head of his profession, but he has completely lost his way. These notions have fair spoiled him. Instead of attending to his business, he has taken to going about preaching and writing—always about this craze they have got.

Can you tell me about the others?—I don’t know very much about the others. Other witnesses know more about them. I only know this, that all of them are what I call good people spoiled—completely spoiled—a thousand pities. There wasn’t a finer set of people anywhere before this come to them: and they are fine people now, in a way—only they’re not hearty to folks as they used to be

Cross-examined by Mr. Hopefora Reason: You say the defendants are good people spoiled?—Yes, sir.

Have they become bad?—Not exactly that, sir: they’re not sociable like.

Do you mean they are unsociable among themselves?—p. 36 Oh, I don’t know about that, sir. They say they are very chummish among themselves.

You mean they are not sociable among the folks they used to be sociable with?—Aye, that’s about it.

What sort of people did they used to be sociable with?—Oh, all sorts.

Drinkers?—Well, not people as got drunk, exactly. They’d have a sup with anybody in a friendly way.

People that smoked and sang?—Well, yes.

And went to theatres?—Yes: I don’t see as there’s any harm in going to the theatre, so as it’s a well-conducted place—respectable, like—none of your low places.

Did they used to be friendly with sporting fellows?—Not sporting fellows particular: all sorts, like—respectable people—all sorts. In fact, they were free and pleasant people that did as other folks did, and went everywhere and anywhere in a free and friendly way.

In fact, they were on good terms with the world in general?—Yes, they were nice worldly people themselves and did not much mind who they took to.

And now you say it is different with them?—Yes, sadly different. They are quite mopish. They don’t seem to have any heart for things.

Do you know what has changed them so?—Their notions, I suppose.

Do you know what their notions are?—Not exactly; something about Jesus Christ.

Do you know about Jesus Christ?—Not much I am afraid. I hear about him in church sometimes.

Have you ever taken the trouble to ascertain what those notions about Christ are which have taken such powerful possession of these good people?—No; I leave these things to the parsons.

Don’t you know they expect great good from Christ by and bye?—I suppose they do in some way or other.

Don’t you know that they think Christ is now living?—I suppose they do.

And that he is coming to earth again to put everything right?—I suppose so.

Don’t you know that they expect him to make them p. 37 strong immortal happy men when he comes?—I have heard strange things like that.

Do you think it is true?—Ah! I don’t know. Such things are above me.

If it is true, wouldn’t it make you think better of the change that has come over these old friends of yours?—I don’t see that they need mope about and make themselves unsociable.

But suppose Christ requires his friends not to make friends with the world and to be sober, steady, and grave?—I should think Christ would never want us to be unsociable.

Do you know what Christ has required?—I don’t know very much about it, I must confess.

Very well; we’ll leave that. Do you think the defendants have been spoiled in any other way?—I don’t know as they have, particular.

Are they worse men in any way?—No: they bear very good characters, as regards honesty and such like.

Aren’t they kind men?—They’re not very sociable.

Aye, but wouldn’t they do a good turn if you were in want, or anything of that sort?—Oh, I daresay they’re very well for that.

Are they disorderly at all?—No: the very opposite—a little too orderly, I should say.

Have they always been as kind and orderly as they are now?—I cannot say that they have. They used to be up to a bit of a spree sometimes.

Should you trust them pretty well?—Yes; I should trust them—as regards money, you mean?

Well, yes: or truthfulness?—I believe they are very honest men.

Were they quite as steady and trustworthy in the former days you speak of?—Well, I could hardly say that. Of course, they were like the rest—off and on, like—sometimes better and sometimes worse, but tidy sort of people for all that.

Then it seems to me that instead of being good people spoiled, they are middling people improved?—It is according as how you take it, sir.

p. 38 Re-examined by Mr. Dontwanto Believeanyhow: You have no doubt, Mr. Gossip, that the defendants are quite spoiled for all purposes of good fellowship and sociality?—Not a bit of doubt of it, sir.

My friend has asked about their honesty, kindness, and so forth: I understand you to say they were always kind, steady, honest men?—Oh, yes; always. I should always have trusted them any day.

Quite as much as you would now?—Quite.

You do not say that they are improved at all?—Not as I see, sir.

You stick to it that they are good people spoiled?—I stick to that. Of course, other folks has a right to their opinion.

Well, that will do. Call Mr. Shrewd Observer.

Mr. Shrewd Observer

Examined by Mr. Loverofthe Presentworld: I believe you are a fellow-resident with the last witness in Babelton?—Yes, sir.

And, like him, retired from business?—No, sir; I am in business.

Oh, I beg pardon; I thought you had retired?—No, sir; but I am as good as retired.

Ah, I thought so—I am partner in a concern which is carried on by another man.

Ah, quite so—a sleeping partner?—No, sir; not a sleeping partner: I take part, but not a very great part. My partner attends to matters principally.

Well, you are, in fact, a person of leisure?—Yes; I have time to attend to matters. I take some interest in politics.

You take a leading part in the political affairs of the town?—I do.

In that capacity you have the honour and pleasure of a tolerably large acquaintance?—I believe so.

Amongst other people you know the defendants?—I know some of them very well.

Which of them do you know most about?—I know Persis Muchlabour and Timothy Faithson and Urbane p. 39 Helpful, and perhaps Titus Workfellow, and something of Heber Hold-fast-the-hope, and Gaius Hospitable.

The rest you do not know so much about?—I know a little about them all, more or less.

What do you know of them?—I have a high opinion of them.

A high opinion of them?—Yes.

How am I to understand you?—Well, I think they are all excellent men.

Should you apply that expression of opinion to their views and opinions?—I do not agree with their opinions.

You are aware it is their opinions and the effect of them that are in question on this trial?—I am so aware.

You say you do not agree with their opinions: what is your opinion as to the tendency of those opinions?—I think their effect is hurtful.

And yet you think the defendants are excellent men?—I discriminate between a man and his opinions.

Oh, I see: but I do not see how you can do that very well. Don’t a man’s opinions form part of the man? And by their influence on his attitude, do they not determine the quality of the man?—To a certain extent, no doubt it is so: nevertheless, a man may be better than his opinions. His opinions have to do with how outside matters strike him, while his character has to do with what he is in himself.

But may not his impressions of external matters affect his conduct and therefore his character?—I do not quite see it.

Well, suppose they were to take it into their heads that you were a tiger, do you think that would affect their attitude towards you?—(smiling) I should call that a hallucination.

Whatever you should call it, would it not affect their conduct towards you?—I suppose so.

They would try to shoot you, of course: and should you not consider that very questionable conduct?—Perhaps.

You would not call them excellent men?—I don’t know.

Thus a wrong opinion or impression would produce wrong conduct or character?—I do not see there is any parallel.

p. 40 Parallel on no parallel, it would be a case in which you could not separate between a man’s character and opinions?—If they thought me a tiger, they would be justified in shooting me.

Should you be justified in being shot?—That is another side of the question.

That is the side we have to consider to-day. Are you not aware that the doctrines of the defendants lead them to regard the world as an evil thing?—Yes: I am sorry it is so.

And are you not aware that as a result of that opinion, they have virtually forsaken the world?—It is too true.

Deprived the world of the value of their good offices and all of us of the comfort of their friendship?—Yes, sir; I am sorry to say it is the case.

Well, now, we want you to give the Court the benefit of your knowledge in the case. You say you know certain of the defendants better than others?—Yes.

I think you mentioned the names of six?—Yes.

Take the first—Persis Muchlabour: what do you know about him?—He is a young man of great business talent and of large prospects, or at least, opportunities.

Have you seen much of him?—I used to see a good deal of him. I have often met him at private parties. He used to be very pleasant company. He is handsome and of agreeable manners, and possessed of a fund of humour and information on all subjects. He has a very wide circle of acquaintance. He has a clear business intellect and unbounded opportunities from the position to which he stands related through his family. There is no position to which he might not rise.

I understand you to say there has been a change?—Yes; there has been a great change.

What has been the nature of the change?—Well, he has practically retired from society. Nobody meets him now at pleasure parties. He is never seen at the theatre He conducts his business as ably as ever but with greatly moderated ideas. He has lost ambition. He is content to carry on in a very limited and hum-drum sort of way. We consider him as good as lost. He has thrown p. 41 himself away upon an obscure lot of people. He used to cultivate the highest society.

How do you account for the change?—Well, I believe he has embraced the doctrines of Paul Christman.

He believes in the resurrection of Christ?—Yes, and the other fantasies associated with that notion.

Apart from these doctrines, you have no reason to doubt that he would be as useful a member of society as ever?—Oh, I have no doubt of it. His head is clear as a silver bell, as it ever was, and he has no purpose to serve whatever by his present erratic course. It is these doctrines that have spoiled him. I am sorry for him. I respect him as highly as ever I did, apart from these doctrines.

Now, what about the defendant Faithson?—He is a man of a different sort. I have never known him intimately, but I know a good deal about him; and I have had some transactions with him. I may say he has never, in my knowledge, been anything else than an active member of the Christman party. In fact, he is one of its out-and-outest members. He is always at it. I should call him an enthusiast, only there is a good deal about him that does not exactly belong to the enthusiast. He is clear-headed and able, and, on everything apart from Christmanism, he is a thoroughly sensible man—a friendly, honest, zealous man, that would be very useful and welcome to any party.

You have had business dealings with him?—Yes, occasionally.

And that has given you the opportunity of knowing and judging of the man?—Yes. I have often wished he could be disabused of this fanaticism, as I consider it, about Christ. I have tried, but you might as well speak to Mount Etna.

Why have you particularly desired to disabuse him of the fanaticism?—Well, because he would be such a useful accession to society every way—especially in local politics. I have often talked it over with the secretary of our association. We have often said he might make his mark if he could be cured of Christmanism.

p. 42 Would you tell the Court in what way Christmanism interferes with his usefulness in the sense you mean?—Well, he is so over head and ears with this crotchet that he cannot be got to attend to anything else. He won’t come to our meetings. He regularly declines our parties; at election times he stands absolutely aloof; we cannot even get him connected with town affairs; why, even at a lecture or a concert it is a very, very rare occurrence to see him. It is a downright pity to see so fine a fellow so completely spoiled.

You have no hope of curing him?—I don’t see any ground to expect it. There is a tenacity of conviction and what I should call a setness in the mode of his intellectual operations that preclude me, at all events, from entertaining any hope of change.

Is he likely to lead others into the same state?—Oh, he is doing so right and left every day. It is perfectly astonishing the numbers of people he has brought to his own way of thinking. Several of my own friends are going fast.

What should you think the best way of dealing with the case?—Oh, I must leave that to you, gentlemen.

What should you think of our proposal to obtain an injunction to restrain these people from the agitation they are keeping up?—Well, as a politician in a liberal age, I am, of course, averse to all measures of coercion; but I confess I do not see any other way of closing their mouths.

Their mouths could be stopped by argument, of course?—I am not so sure about that. It is a difficult matter answering them.

You have tried?—Well, of course, I have had a good deal of conversation with them.

If they cannot be answered without difficulty, do you not think that the method we propose would be the most effectual?—It would doubtless be effectual in a certain way.

In what way do you doubt its efficacy?—Well, I look to the working of the thing in past times. A powerful effort to stop their doctrine by law was made in the first century, and in succeeding centuries at various times, p. 43 but the thing only seemed to spread the more actively.

But probably not to the extent it would have done if there had been no repression?—Perhaps not. It is difficult to tell.

At all events, you have no objection to its being made an illegal thing to preach the resurrection of Christ?—In view of the hurtful effects I have witnessed from the preaching, I must confess myself, though with some reluctance, in favour of judicial repression.

Take the next case: I think you said you knew something of Heber Hold-fast-the-hope?—Yes, I have known him very well.

You have known him better than the others?—I think I may say I have.

What do you know about him?—He is a tradesman of rare capacity, and was a politician.

A Politician?—Yes; he took an active part in all our elections, and in the political affairs of the borough generally. He was a man whose opinions carried quite a weight with them. He was quite a man of promise in the line of things. I should not have been surprised if some day he had been returned to parliament himself. I have watched him from the beginning, and was quite interested in him. Nay, I will say I entertained a strong personal friendship for him. We were very intimate, and our views ran in exactly the same channel in all political matters. There was no greater disappointment to me than when the change came over him that led to his identification with the defendants.

What change was that?—He imbibed their ideas. He imbibed them strongly. There is no firmer believer in the ranks of Christmanism than Heber Hold-fast-the-hope. I respect him highly. I deeply deplore the circumstance of having to appear against him to-day.

His imbibing the ideas of the defendants brought about a change in his attitude, I understand you to say?—Quite so.

What change did it produce?—Well, he gradually fell away from us. We first noticed that he absented himself from the meetings of the party. Then he slacked off p. 44 his interest in various little matters of party business. Any little matter we might ask him to attend to he did not take the usual interest in it, but did it in a half-hearted way. Then his subscription became irregular. At last we heard strange rumours that his opinions had undergone a complete change. By and bye, we had a letter of resignation. I then went and saw him, and discovered to my great regret that he had gone over heart and soul to Christmanism. Oh, I was so sorry. I tried to reason with him, but it was no use. He was like a rock. I had not given particular attention to the matter that had captivated him, so I was unable to meet him.

Since then you have not found him the useful man he was before?—I have seen very little of him since. I occasionally meet him and pass the time of day in a friendly way: but there is none of the intimacy there used to be. There could not be, of course. He mentions his hobby now and then: but I cannot follow him, and there it stops. He has backed out of all our political affairs. He says he has got new politics. He certainly takes a deal of interest in foreign affairs, which I must say is strange to me: for from all ideas I have been able to gather about Christ, his affairs belong to altogether another world.

As to matters of business, does he continue as enterprising as he was?—He attends to business as he ever did: but there is a certain kind of slackening off which is difficult to describe. He was aiming at a fortune: but now he seems to be content to get along in a jog-trot middling kind of way. When I twit him about it, he quotes the New Testament to me, “Having food and raiment, be content,” or something to that effect. He certainly does not put the push and spirit into it that he used to do. It is impossible he could: for he gives an amount of time and attention to meetings and readings, and is so connected with the Christman craze that it would be enough to ruin his business.

You consider him a spoiled man?—Undoubtedly, from our point of view at all events? Mind, I have nothing to say against him in a moral sense. I think as highly of p. 45 him as ever. His very engrossment in this matter is part of that fidelity to conviction that I have always admired him for.

But it spoils him for all practical purposes?—I am sorry to say it does.

You don’t consider fidelity to a fantasy a very admirable feature?—It is unfortunate.

And mischievous?—Well——

You are very tender about it?—Well, I cannot help admiring clearness of mind and truthfulness of life.

But, brought to bear in a bad cause, they become bad things don’t they?—Perhaps. I wish I could either see with the defendants, or see the defendants back into the right position, as I at present think it.

Perhaps you will join them?—I am afraid not. If I could see they were right, perhaps I might.

Well, we won’t follow that: Which of the defendants can you next tell us of?—Well, there is Titus Workfellow. I have known him for a good many years. I knew him before he had compromised himself with Christmanism.

What have you to say to him?—A more unblemished man I never knew. I have heard him called an angelman; and I am partly inclined to agree with the description.

How do you suppose that is going to help our case?—I don’t know about that, but what I say is the truth.

How do you reconcile his angelhood with his position in the defendant’s box?—Well, as I said before, I discriminate between a man and his opinions.

It is his opinions we are here to try?—Well, his opinions are those of the rest of the defendants. He believes that Christ rose from the dead, and that he is coming again to the earth, and that he will take the whole world in charge, and establish an improved age.

You do not share those opinions?—I do not.

Do you consider that those opinions have improved him?—They have not deteriorated him in a moral sense.

It is the practical bearing of the thing we want to hear about?—Well, practically, the effect has been the same as in the other cases.

p. 46 Spoiled him?—Well, in a sense. He used to be at the head of a considerable body of respectable people, who paid him liberally for the luxury of intellectual discourses; and intellectual discourses they were. He is a very talented speaker and an able man. His language is in the choicest taste and the purest diction. A more chaste use of words was perhaps never exemplified. He was a very high-spirited man, and moved among high-spirited people, to whom his society was the pleasantest. He was appreciated and sought after. I would not give you the idea that he in any sense led a fast life. On the contrary, he was chaste and sober; but with his sobriety, he was refined and cultivated, and his mental composition was dashed with a vein of humour which made him very pleasant company. Along with this, I must admit there was an underlying sadness which savoured somewhat of his present turn of mind: a liking for the Bible which was out of keeping with the society in which he moved. I suppose to some extent it is to this that is to be attributed his present unhappy position.

You speak from personal knowledge?—I do. I was one of an admiring circle of friends. I would have given anything to have kept him in his position.

He is no longer in the position you have described?—No. When he embraced the tenets of Christmanism, he left us.

And consorted, I believe, with a low and worthless people?—I don’t know much about the people he now goes amongst. All I know is that he is to be seen no more with us.

You deplore the fact?—I do sincerely deplore the fact—for his own sake, for ours, for his family’s.

Has he injured his family?—I fear so. He gave up a liberal income when he left us; and I have not heard that he has been able to make it up from other sources.

The friends he united himself with are not so liberal with him as you were?—Oh, no; it is not in their power. They are poor people. Besides, I believe it is against their principles to “hire” a man, as they phrase it, to speak for them.

p. 47 You think his family fare hardly in consequence?—I do not see how it could be otherwise. I have heard as much. I deeply sympathize with them. I have appealed to him on their behalf: but it is of no sort of use.

What does he say?—Well, he answers me in a way that is satisfactory to himself, I doubt not.

What is it like?—He asks me if I would have him disobey God for the sake of bread and cheese, or something of that sort.

That is part of the fanaticism?—Quite so. I take it in that light, though I cannot help feeling sorry so much consistency should be thrown away.

You consider his a case of a good man being spoiled?—Quite so, in the sense I have expressed. He is certainly spoiled for the present world. Christmanism is on his mind day and night. If there is any truth in the “splendid Utopianism” of his faith, as I think some of you gentlemen called it,—I mean his expectation of Christ coming to set up a kingdom on earth—he deserves a high place in it.

But you have no idea, of course, that there is anything in it?—No, I wish I had.

What do you mean?—I mean I wish such a good expectation as his faith gives him were a true one.

Not being true, you of course regard such a faith as nuisance—a something to be put down?—No doubt it would be well if it could be put down.

Do you see any better way of putting it down than by stopping the activity of the defendants?—I cannot say that I do. Confutation by argument would not be successful.

You have no doubt about that?—I have no doubt about that. I have tried it.

You have tried it with Mr. Workfellow, perhaps?—Yes; as I have said, I have often attempted to bring him to reason, but it only makes matters worse.

Does he make himself active in the propagation of the hurtful faith?—Oh, yes; nobody more so, though I believe it is a principle with these people that they are all bound to propagate their faith. I believe they regard it as Christ’s will that they should do so.

p. 48 We won’t go into that: You spoke of others you knew?—Yes.

Urbane Helpful?—Yes, I know him.

What have you to say of him?—The same as the rest, except that there is some offset by way of improvement.

What do you mean?—Well, he has been improved on some points by the change to Christmanism.

Never mind the improvements: we want to know where he has been spoiled?—Well, his career has doubtless been arrested. He started with good opportunities and fair prospects, and every chance of getting on, both as regards friends and business; but I am afraid there is an end to it all.

Through the effects of the doctrine?—Doubtless, the doctrines are the cause. They have had the usual effect where they are earnestly received. They have made him morose and unsociable, and have led him to neglect his professional duties to a great extent, and to give attention to matters of not the least advantage to anybody in the world.

It is the same story as in other cases?—Quite so.

Gaius Hospitable, I believe you mentioned his name?—Yes.

You knew him?—I did.

Before he got smitten with Christmanism?—Yes.

What was the character of his case at that time?—Good every way; an excellent young man, prominent position in business, lots of friends, no position that he mightn’t have got to

How it is now?—Well, there is not so much change in some ways, but, on the whole, he is seriously damaged. He maintains his business position, but he has not quite so many friends, and I am afraid his way is blocked. Indeed I know it for a fact. It is impossible for any man to get on with such notions as he has taken up with. Influential people, through whom advancement is to be secured, will not look at a man with such crazed ideas as they are considered; and then all motive is taken away to getting on and up. He used to be quite a thrifty, saving man, and would soon have put by enough to retire on; p. 49 but since he took to these notions of Paul Christman, he has quite changed. He spends money freely on meetings and circulating books, and helping poor people, which, of course, is all very well in its place, but not when it is carried to such an extent. I have spoken to him about it, but it is of no use. You cannot answer such impracticable people.

He gives the same answers as Titus Workfellow?—Not exactly. He is a quiet man, but he will slowly get out some question which a man that is not acquainted with these things cannot deal with on the spur of the moment.

Can you give us an example?—Well, if I tell him he ought, in justice to his family, to do the best he can for himself, as he used to do, he will ask me what I think Christ meant when he said, “Lay not up for yourself treasures upon earth.” Or, if I tell him it will be his ruin if he persists in his connection with Christmanism, he will ask if I have ever considered Christ’s words, “He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” There is no getting round them.

You can get round them, surely, by saying their Bible is all nonsense?—Not even then. They will have some awkward questions and arguments about the Bible.

Well, we won’t go into that. Have you anything more to tell the Court about Gaius Hospitable?—Nothing, except I highly respect him as a genuine, true-hearted man, whose mistakes of the head I am sorry for.

He is like the rest, I suppose, very active in the spreading of his opinions?—Yes; he won’t let you call them his opinions. He insists upon it that they are facts.

Never mind, he spreads them?—Yes.

You agree that it would be polite to prevent him doing so?—I have said that I should agree to it as an unhappy necessity.

The Clerk of the Court: Have Counsel for the defendants any questions to put to this witness?

Sir Noble Acceptorof Alltruth: Yes, my Lord: but the cross-examination of this witness will probably take considerable time. I could not hope to finish before the rising of the Court. I should propose that we adjourn now, p. 50 and I will be prepared to proceed with the cross-examination at the next sitting.

His Lordship: What do the other side say?

Sir F. C. Partialfact Unbelief: I have no objection, my Lord to the adjournment. The lighter we make this heavy case the better.

The Clerk of the Court: Go by easy stages.

His Lordship: Very well: the Court will adjourn till to-morrow morning.

Court adjourned.