Before I had been in the Old Bailey dock two minutes on the morning of my second trial, I found that our case was hopeless. The names of no less than four jurymen were handed to me by friends in court, every one of whom had been heard to declare that he meant to bring in a verdict of Guilty. One of these impartial guardians of English liberty had stated, in a public-house, his intention to "make it hot for the Freethinkers." How many more had uttered similar sentiments it is impossible to say, but it is reasonable to suppose that, if four were discovered by my friends, there were others who had escaped their detection. One of the four, a Mr. Thomas Jackson, was called on the jury list. I at once challenged him. He was then put into the witness-box, and on examination he admitted that he "had expressed an opinion adverse to the defendants in this case." Then ensued a bit of comedy between Judge North and Sir Hardinge Giffard, who both assumed a wonderful air of impartiality.
     "Judge North: Sir Hardinge, is it not better to withdraw this
     juryman at once?  Whatever the verdict of the jury, I should be
     sorry to have a man among them who had expressed himself as
     prejudiced.
 
     Sir Hardinge Giffard: Oh yes, my lord; I withdraw him.  It will
     be much more satisfactory to the Crown and everybody else concerned."
"I withdraw him," says Sir Hardinge; "I should be sorry to have him," says the Judge; both evidently feeling that they were making a generous concession in the interests of justice. But as a matter of fact they had no choice. Mr. Thomas Jackson could no more sit on that jury after my challenge than he could fly over the moon. I smiled at the pretended generosity of these legal cronies, and said to myself, "Thank you for nothing."
Mr. Thomas Jackson's exit made no practical difference. I felt, I will not say that the jury was packed, but that it was admirably adapted to the end in view. Ours being the only case for trial that day, it was not difficult to accomplish this result. A friend of mine said to one of the officers of the court before I entered the dock, "Well, how is the case going to-day?" "Oh," was the prompt reply, "they are sure to convict." He knew the character of the jury.
Some of the "twelve men and true" had not even the decency to attend to the proceedings. One was timed by a friend in court—dead asleep for sixty minutes. When that juryman awoke his mind was made up on the case. At the conclusion of a trial that lasted over six hours they did not even retire for consultation. They stood up, faced each other, muttered together for about a minute, nodded their heads affirmatively, and then sat down and gave a verdict of guilty.
Several of the jury, however, I am bound to admit, had no idea that Judge North would inflict upon us such infamous sentences, and they were quite shocked at the consequences of their verdict. Four of them subsequently signed the memorial for our release. A fifth juryman vehemently declined to do so. "No," he said, "not I. I'm a man of principle! They got off too easy. Two years' hard labor wouldn't have been a bit too much." This pious gentleman is a publican in Soho, and bears the name of a famous murderer, Wainwright.
But to return. Mr. Ramsey and I were represented this time on all legal points by counsel. Mr. Cluer watched our interests vigilantly, and performed a difficult task with great courage and judgment. He bore Judge North's insults with wonderful patience. "Don't mind what you think about, it, Mr. Cluer," "I don't want you to tell me what you think;" such were the flowers of courtesy strewed from the bench upon Mr. Cluer's path. Our counsel's colleague in the case was Mr. Horace Avory, who represented Mr. Kemp. He also had a somewhat onerous duty to perform.
There is no need to deal with the technical evidence against us. It was of the usual character, and we merely cross-examined the witnesses as a matter of form. One thing was brought out clearly. Sir Henry Tyler's solicitors were aiding Sir Thomas Nelson, and their clerks were produced as witnesses against us.
Judge North's reception of evidence was peculiar. Knowing that there was no Court of Criminal Appeal, he set the rules of procedure at defiance. Any tittle-tattle was admitted, and postmen and servants were allowed to swear as to the directions on unproduced documents alleged to have been addressed to me. When, several weeks later, I was tried a third time in the Court of Queen's Bench, I heard Lord Coleridge rebuke the prosecuting counsel for attempting to put questions against which Judge North would hear no objection. I understand now how much prisoners are at the mercy of judges, and I feel how much truth there was in the remark I once heard from a prisoner in Holloway Gaol, that "it's often a toss up whether you get one year or seven."
Let me here also ask why Mr. Fawcett, the late Postmaster General, allowed his letter-carriers to be employed as detectives in such a case. It was proved in evidence that a policeman had called at the West-Central Post Office, and obtained an interview with the manager, after which the letter-carriers were instructed to spy upon my correspondence. Mr. Fawcett subsequently denied that the letter-carriers had ever been so instructed; but in that case the Post Office witnesses must have committed perjury. I do not believe it. I am confident that they merely obeyed orders, and that the scandalous abuse of a public trust must be charged upon the district postmaster, who probably thinks any weapon is legitimate against Freethinkers. As Mr. Fawcett refused to censure the postmaster for exceeding his duty, or the letter-carrier for committing perjury, I cannot hold him altogether guiltless in the matter.
In opening my defence I took care to accentuate my appreciation of Judge North's kindness, as the following passage will show:
     "Gentlemen of the Jury,—I stand in a position of great difficulty
     and disadvantage.  On Thursday last I defended myself against
     the very same charges in the very same indictment.  The case
     lasted nearly seven hours, and the jury retired for more than
     two hours without being able to come to an agreement.  They
     were then discharged, and the learned judge said he would try
     the case again on Monday with a new jury.  As I had been out
     on bail from my committal, and as I stood in the same position
     after that abortive trial as before it commenced, I asked the
     learned judge to renew my bail, but he refused.  I pleaded that
     I should have no opportunity to prepare my defence, and I was
     peremptorily told I should have the same opportunity as I had
     had that day.  Well, gentlemen, I have enjoyed the learned judge's
     opportunity.  I have spent all the weary hours since Thursday,
     with the exception of the three allowed for bodily exercise
     during the whole interval, in a small prison cell six feet wide,
     and so dark that I could neither write nor read at midday without
     the aid of gaslight.  There was around me no sign of the animated
     life I am accustomed to, nothing but the loathsome sights and
     sounds of prison life.  And in these trying and depressing
     circumstances I have had to prepare to defend myself in a new
     trial against two junior counsel and a senior counsel, who have
     had no difficulties to contend with, who have behind them the
     wealth and authority of the greatest and richest Corporation
     in the world, and who might even walk out of court in the
     perfect assurance that the prosecution would not be allowed
     to suffer in their absence."
Those who wish to read the whole of my defence, which lasted over two hours, will find it in the "Three Trials for Blasphemy." One portion of it, at least, is likely to be of permanent interest. With Mr. Wheeler's aid I drew up a long list of the abusive epithets applied by Christian controversialists to their Pagan opponents or to each other. It fills more than two pages of small type, and pretty nearly exhausts the vocabulary of vituperation. I added a few pearls of orthodox abuse of Atheism, and then asked the jury whether Christians had taught Freethinkers to show respect for their opponents' feelings. "Nobody in this country," I continued, "whatever his religion, is called upon to respect the feelings of anybody else. It is only the Freethinker who is told to respect the feelings of people from whom he differs. And to respect them how? Not when he enters their places of worship, not when he stands side by side with them in the business and pleasures of life, but when he reads what is written for Freethinkers without knowing that a pair of Christian eyes will ever scan the page."
It may be asked why I adopted a course so little likely to conciliate my judges. My reply is that I did not try to conciliate them. Feeling convinced that their verdict was already settled, and that my fate was sealed, I cast all such considerations aside, and deliberately made a speech for my own party. I was resolved that my loss should be the gain of Freethought. The peroration is the only other part of my defence I shall venture to quote. It ran as follows:
     "Gentlemen, carry your minds back across the chasm of eighteen
     centuries and a half.  You are in Jerusalem.  A young Jew is
     haled along the street to the place of judgment.  He stands
     before his judge; he is accused—of what, gentlemen?  You
     know what he is accused of—the word must be springing to
     your lips—Blasphemy!  Every Christian among you knows that
     your founder, Jesus Christ, was crucified after being charged
     with blasphemy.  Gentlemen, it seems to me that no Christian
     should ever find a man guilty of blasphemy after that, but
     that the very word ought to be wiped from your vocabulary,
     as a reproach and a scandal.  Christians, your founder was
     murdered as a blasphemer, for, although done judicially, it
     was still a murder.  Surely then you will not, when you have
     secured the possession of power, imitate the bad example of
     those who killed your founder, violate men's liberties, rob
     them of all that is perhaps dearest to them, and brand them
     with a stigma of public infamy by a verdict from the jury-box!
     Surely gentlemen, it is impossible that you can do that!  Who
     are we?  Three poor men.  Are we wicked?  No, there is no proof
     of the charge.  Our honor and honesty are unimpeached.  It is
     not for us to play the Pharisee and say that we are better than
     other men.  We only say that we are no worse.  What have we
  &............