Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 554 Courtroom Battle! (First Update)
After everyone, including Sir John Colridge, had paid their respects to the Queen's new portrait, Judge John Colridge tapped his gavel with satisfaction: "Prosecution, you may begin."

The first prosecutor, Charles Foster, stood up, walked to the jury box, and first gave a graceful bow.

"Your Honor, gentlemen of the jury. The twelve men standing in the dock today are, in appearance, just ordinary commoners—bar owners, dockworkers, hawkers, apprentices."

But their behavior went far beyond the realm of 'ordinary'.

He turned and pointed to the dock: “Over the past year, these individuals have participated in a meticulously planned and organized campaign of incitement aimed at undermining public respect for the British Empire and its holy monarch.”

Their 'leader' was a foreign agitator—a Frenchman named Lionel Sorel. However, they often referred to him as 'James Bond.'

Foster walked back to his desk and picked up a file: “Let’s start with the first one. James McGregor—the owner of ‘Bent Pick’ Bar, everyone calls him ‘Old Jimmy’.”

Old Jimmy looked up.

Last October, Lionel Sorel, using the pseudonym "James Bond," stayed at McGregor's bar for three nights. During those three days, he wrote letters for at least 120 civilians for a meager fee in an attempt to gain their favor.

More importantly—McGregor not only provided accommodation, but also allowed Sorel to use the bar as a base to frequently interact with the local civilians.

He held up another document: "This is a ledger that the police seized from the bar. It records the alcohol sales for those few days in early August last year—nearly 30% more than usual."

Why? Because many people had heard that there was a 'Mr. Bond who could write letters' there, and they made a special trip to see him. Mr. McGregor was well aware of this, and instead of stopping them, he encouraged the gatherings.

His bar became a breeding ground for incitement!

Defense attorney Henry Brad immediately stood up: "Objection! Your Honor, this is pure speculation. The bar is doing well because it has many customers; this does not prove that my client intentionally supported any 'sedition'."

Sir Coleridge glanced at Foster: "Prosecutor, do you have more direct evidence?"

“Yes!” Foster picked up several clippings from the table. “These are reports from the Palmer, the Star, and the Daily Chronicle from July to September of this year.”

These reports all interviewed ordinary people in the East Side, asking them how 'Mr. James Bond' had helped them. And these interviewees—"

He walked to the jury box and showed them the clippings one by one: "They're all in the dock today."

Some members of the jury leaned closer to take a look. Although they couldn't see the specific content clearly, the thick, dark title said it all.

Foster continued, "What's even more noteworthy is that these interviews were not chance encounters for the journalists. According to journalistic testimonies—including the written statement of Thomas Weber, a journalist for The Palmer—"

These were the people who proactively contacted the newspaper, requesting to tell the story of 'Mr. Bond.' Sometimes they even went together in groups of two or three."

He turned to the dock, his gaze settling on Sean Omara: "Especially this one, Sean Omara. The hauler at Whitechapel Dock."

According to testimonies, he approached different newspapers at least three times, not only to recount his own experiences but also to encourage other workers to go with him.

He once told a reporter, "You should write about Mr. Bond; he's the one who really helped us."

Sean Omara's face flushed red. He wanted to speak, but old Jimmy pulled him back, and he held back.

Foster walked back to the prosecutor's bench and picked up another stack of papers: "These are the statements the police obtained after the arrests. In these statements, the defendants admitted that they praised Lionel Sorel—or, as they called him, 'Mr. Bond'."

They also admitted that they had read or heard the stories of *Pirates of the Caribbean* and enjoyed the scenes of Captain Jack Sparrow outwitting the navy captains. Some even stated that there was "some truth" in *1984*.

He paused, then looked at the jury: "Gentlemen, consider this. A group of ordinary people, frequently exposed to the works of foreign agitators, publicly praising him, actively contacting the media to spread his 'good deeds,' and privately endorsing his criticism of the empire..."

"Is this just a coincidence?"

Some jurors frowned, while others exchanged glances, clearly finding the argument quite reasonable.

Foster's voice rose slightly: "No. This is an organized campaign. Lionel Sorel is using cheap goodwill—writing letters—to buy people's hearts and build personal influence."

Then, through these 'followers' whom he inspired, he spread his ideas among the common people, causing them to question the empire's rule, doubt the government's integrity, and weaken their loyalty to the empire and the monarch.

If this isn't 'incitement,' then what is? If this isn't 'organization,' then what is 'organization'?

He finished speaking and looked at the judge who stood high above him.

Sir Coleridge nodded. "The defense, please make your statement."

Henry Brad stood up, but instead of immediately going to the jury, he looked at the twelve people in the dock first.

"Your Honor, gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution has just painted a terrible picture: foreign agitators, domestic conspirators, and organized subversion."

But I would like to ask you all to look at these people in the dock, please look closely—”

Some members of the jury actually looked over.

James McGregor, 58, has run a bar on Bentham Street for 22 years. He is married and has two married daughters. Neighbors testify that he is "honest and law-abiding" and "never causes trouble."

Sean Omara, thirty-four, a dockworker, works ten hours a day and earns one pound eight shillings a week. He has three children, the oldest nine and the youngest two. The foreman says he's a 'hard worker' and 'never slacks off.' He continued, one by one: "Thomas Hardy, fifty-one, a newspaper reader, has bad eyesight and earns a living reading newspapers in bars."

William Carter, the father of a seamstress, whose daughter earns twelve shillings a week, is sixty-seven years old.

Joe Harris, 22 years old, carpenter's apprentice, earning nine shillings a week, just got married this spring, and his wife is pregnant..."

He named twelve names in a row, twelve of the most ordinary livelihoods.

"These people are what the prosecution calls the 'key members of the instigation organization.' Every day, they worry about tomorrow's bread, their children's health, and their fathers' medicine money."

Do they have the time, energy, and motivation to 'plan subversive activities'?

After saying this, Henry Brad walked to the jury box and looked at the gentlemen dressed in their well-tailored coats.

Last October, Lionel Sorel, a French writer, happened to come to the Bentham Bar. He saw that some people there were illiterate and unable to write letters to their relatives far away, so he offered to help them.

He charged two pence, the price of a beer. He listened to their stories—sons serving in the Indian army, daughters married and living elsewhere, brothers in debt, wives sick—and then helped them write down their innermost thoughts.

Is this called 'winning people's hearts'? This is called 'goodwill,' gentlemen. The simplest, most direct goodwill. These people are grateful to him not because he is some kind of 'demagogue,' but because he did a good deed.

Something small, but very important to them!

In the back row of the audience, an elderly woman whose clothes were covered in patches wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

Brad continued, "As for what they said to reporters later, what's so strange about that? If someone helps you and you think they're a good person, you're naturally willing to tell others."

Is this illegal? In the British Empire, when did calling someone a 'good person' become a crime?

Prosecutor Foster stood up: "Objection! The defense is distorting the facts. These people are not praising ordinary 'good people,' but a foreign writer who has publicly insulted Her Majesty the Queen and denigrated the imperial system!"

Brad turned to him: “Mr. Foster, when they started praising him, 1984 hadn’t even been written yet. Pirates of the Caribbean hadn’t even started serialization.”

All they knew was that a man named James Bond had written a letter for them in the bar and left money for Jim the Pipe's family when he left.

What's wrong with praising this?

Foster sneered: "But they continued to praise him afterward, even after '1984' was published!"

Brad nodded in agreement: “Some people may have said that. But that’s their personal feeling. What the law prohibits is ‘seditious speech,’ which is intended to incite hatred against the Queen and the government.”

Does saying "Mr. Bond is a good man" constitute "incitement"? If so, how many people in Britain should be arrested every day?

Some people in the audience whispered their agreement, and even the jury looked at each other, thinking that the defense attorney was right.

Sir Coleridge tapped his gavel: "Silence. Defense, please continue."

Brad walked back to the defense's stand and picked up a document: "I have several testimonies here. From neighbors on Bentham Street, Whitechapel workers, and several regular customers at the bar."

They all said that these defendants were law-abiding citizens who paid their taxes on time and avoided trouble. When they gathered at the bar, they talked almost exclusively about the weather, wages, children, and sports—not politics, much less 'subversion'.

He handed the document to the clerk: "Your Honor, I request that these testimonies be included as evidence for the defense."

Sir Coleridge nodded: "Approved."

Foster immediately stood up: "Your Honor, these testimonies are irrelevant to this case. The defendants' usual conduct cannot offset their subsequent illegal acts."

Brad turned and stared intently at him: "But that speaks volumes about their nature! These people aren't professional agitators or conspirators. They're ordinary people caught up in a sudden political storm."

They said a few words, expressing gratitude to someone who had helped them—and then they were arrested, charged, and brought to court. Gentlemen, is this really justice?

At this point, he bowed to everyone and then sat down.

The courtroom was silent for a few seconds.

Sir Coleridge looked at the prosecution's seat: "Mr. Foster, you may call your witnesses."

Foster stood up with a smug look on his face. "Your Honor," he said, "I request that my first witness be called—Thomas Weber, a reporter for The Palmer."

The faces of the defendant and his two defense lawyers turned somewhat grim.

(First update, please vote! At least three updates today)

　In 1882, Britain did not have a system of "public prosecutors." Criminal prosecutions at that time were mainly initiated by private individuals (including victims, police officers, or those seeking rewards). Although police officers could bring public prosecutions, they were legally considered "private" prosecutors, not state officials.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)