The magistrates took their seats on the bench.
The bench would not hold them. All in the commission
of the peace flocked in. Any other day they would
not have been at West Lynne. As to the room, the
wonder was how it ever got emptied again, so densely
was it packed. Sir Francis Levison’s friends
were there in a body. They did not believe a word
of the accusation. “A scandalous affair,”
cried they, “got up, probably, by some sneak
of the scarlet-and-purple party.” Lord Mount
Severn, who chose to be present, had a place assigned
him on the bench. Lord Vane got the best place
he could fight for amid the crowd. Mr. Justice
Hare sat as chairman, unusually stern, unbending,
and grim. No favor would he show, but no unfairness.
Had it been to save his son from hanging, he would
not adjudge guilt to Francis Levison against his conscience.
Colonel Bethel was likewise on the bench, stern also.
In that primitive place—primitive in what
related to the justice-room and the justices—things
were not conducted with the regularity of the law.
The law there was often a dead letter. No very
grave cases were decided there; they went to Lynneborough.
A month at the treadmill, or a week’s imprisonment,
or a bout of juvenile whipping, were pretty near the
harshest sentences pronounced. Thus, in this examination,
as in others, evidence was advanced that was inadmissible—at
least, that would have been inadmissible in a more
orthodox court—hearsay testimony, and irregularities
of that nature. Mr. Rubiny watched the case on
behalf of Sir Francis Levison.
Mr. Ball opened the proceedings, giving the account
which had been imparted to him by Richard Hare, but
not mentioning Richard as his informant. He was
questioned as to whence he obtained his information,
but replied that it was not convenient at present to
disclose the source. The stumbling block of the
magistrates appeared to be the identifying Levison
with Thorn. Ebenezer James came forward to prove
it.
“What do you know of the prisoner, Sir Francis
Levison?” questioned Justice Herbert.
“Not much,” responded Mr. Ebenezer.
“I used to know him as Captain Thorn.”
“Afy Hallijohn called him captain; but I understood
he was but a lieutenant.”
“From whom did you understand that?”
“From Afy. She was the only person I heard
speak of him.”
“And you say you were in the habit of seeing
him in the place mentioned, the Abbey Wood?”
“I saw him there repeatedly; also at Hallijohn’s
cottage.”
“Did you speak with him as Thorn?”
“Two or three times. I addressed him as
Thorn, and he answered to the name. I had no
suspicion but that it was his name. Otway Bethel”—casting
his eyes on Mr. Otway, who stood in his shaggy attire—“also
knew him as Thorn, and so I have no doubt, did Locksley,
for he was always in the wood.”
