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Given to captivity him and his hopes,
He would have found in some part of his soul
A drop of patience:
But there, where he had garner'd up his heart,
Where either he must live or bear no life,
The fountain, from the which his current runs
Or else dries up: to be discarded thence!"—
Turn your complexion there, gentlemen, and say what damages you ought to give him. Deeply do I lament that an injured husband has no other remedy: deeply do I regret that the legislature of this great nation has not made the outrage a criminal offence. He who steals your purse, steals trash: yet he forfeits his liberty—it may be, his life: but he who basely plunders you of the dearest treasure of your heart of hearts, escapes, if rich, with comparative impunity. But the law is so, and your award can be merely that of money. And how are you to calculate the damages? There is but one rule—'Do as you would be done by.' Many of you are basking in the light of wedded love—blessed with a home to which you turn as to a haven from the storms of life, surrounded by joys, and sipping bliss from the lips of her whom you dearly love. What would you take to have this vision dissipated? What would you take to lose her? What you would take in such a case, give!—award that which you would feel yourselves justified in receiving. The damages are laid at five thousand pounds. Would you think that sum too much for you to receive? Do I insult you by the question? No; not I. It is the law that interrogates you. 'Do as you would be done by.' If you think that that sum would be too much for you, give my client what you would think enough. Place yourselves individually in his position, and say what you—feeling the earthquake of your happiness beneath you, and looking round for one last prop to cling to, and seeing the visions you had cherished, the bliss you had enjoyed, the hopes you had idolised, with every household deity dearest and most divine, shivered to atoms round the hearth where they were worshipped—say what you would consider a sufficient compensation. Gentlemen, I now leave the case of my unhappy client—deprived as he has been by the vile, insidious arts of the defendant, of the society of her who formed the lovely centre of his happy circle—with the most entire confidence, in your hands. Your verdict must be for the plaintiff, of course. The only point for you to consider is, that which has reference to compensation. What you think would compensate you in such a case, award him. 'Do as you would be done by!'"
This address, of course, produced an extraordinary sensation. The great majority of those who were in court thought that the verdict must be for the whole five thousand: that Sir Charles deserved it, and that he, therefore, ought to have it.
James Thompson, the butler, was then called and sworn.
"Your name is James Thompson, I believe," said Mr. Phillpots.
"It is," replied the butler.
"You hold the situation of butler in Sir Charles's establishment?"
"I do."