THE WOOD TRIAL.

NZ Truth, Issue 142, 7 March 1908, Page 8

THE WOOD TRIAL.

• _ : •- = ' My Impressions of the Final

Scenes.

(By* Mrs Ecernohm Tree.)

Mrs Beerbohm Tree, the famous actress, who was present at the New Bailey throughout the whole of the last day of Robert Wood's trial for the alleged r murder of Phyllis Ditnmock, has contributed specially to "Reynold's" her impressions of the leading actors, and of the closing scenes, m this thrilling drama of real life. To a woman, and especially to one m whom the dramatic instinct is so highly developed, the intense human interest of this extraordinary case must necessarily have appealed more powerfully than to any man. I have never been at a trial m a criminal court before. As I drove to the city on the last day of the trial I tried to picture to my mind the New Bailey as I believed I should find at. A low, shabby hovel, its atmosphere redolent with crime. Certainly it woulrl be that. Dingy corridors would lead me to the interior of the court itself. .That would be large, I felt sure— so lar-gp, indeed, that I feared I might have difficulty m discerning clearly the features of tbe young man m whose strange personality my interest had been so irresistibly aroused. It would be' a terrible disappointment to find myself stowed away m some remote cornei\ of a huge, dimlyltejtited court, where the '' ' prisoner would appear no more than a shad- ■ owy form m the distance. These were a few of the thoughts that passed through my mind as I was being driven ' rapidly toTHE SCENE OF THE TRIAL', What a contrast to the creation of my imagination the magnificent building m which Robert Wood's lawyers were bathing, for his life, proved to be. Here, instead of a drab, ugly block of. masonry,? with an appearance m keeping with the sordid stories that are told within its walls, I 1 found something that reminded me at one moment of the Ritz Hotel and . ;at the next of the- Vatican. My preconceived notions were to receive another, and ■ even more startling, shock, when I was ushered', into the court where the great trial, was pro-,' ceeding. For I had fully expected to find the interior quite as large as that of the House of Commons. Its smaflness astonished me beyond, measure. The sense of intimacy, if I' •may so describe it, was so surprising. Why, if I had wished T could, almost have touched the prisoner. A - message written on a scrap of paper and rolled into a pellet might be thrown from where I sat into his hand ! ■ , A TERRIBLE CROSS-EXAMINA-TION. . 'And then my interest became entirely absorbed m the trial and the spectacle .of. that poor young man m :$&« witness-box ' under the ordeal of cross-examination. I admire Sir Charles Mathews enormously— he is one of our greatest friends— but my sympathy was so much with Robert Wood that for the time I almost.hated him for his cleverness, though I could appreciate how fair he was being all the while." All through the long cross-examftnation I was ivemr ling with alternate hope and 'fear. Time after time I longed to start up and exclaim, "Oh, don't say that ! Don't say that !" I kept expecting Wood to admit that he wrote that letter, the charred fragments of which he held hi his fingers as Sir Charles plied him wilh questions. Why, I thought,

DOESN'T HE OWN THAT HE WROTE IT ? "We met by appointment on, Monday evening. We met again bv appointment on . Wednesday evening. Why not ??' Those were the words I believed he rniftht have uttered. I was"

wrong, of course, for he would not admit that he had made an appointment. And the terror o! those moments when Sir Charles MaJ>hews asked him point-blank whether it was not true that he had been at. St. ' Pauls-road on that fatal nifrht ! I felt that inadvertently he might make some unintended answer, conjfused by the hail of disconcerting questions, and so give his adversary the opening. \hc sought for. I heaved ' a great sigh of relief when Sir Charles sat down. I was terrified • during the Judge's summing up. I had trembled for the 1 prisoner during Sir Charles Mathewes' speech, but when the Judge* 'began m his severe tones to denounce a man leading a double .life— and that .. was, m his opinion, the kind of life AVood had been leading— MY BLOOD RAN COLD, I thought that Wood was dead. If only the jury would see with my eyes and think with my mind, then all would be well. The more I listened the more terribly anxious and distressed I became. But then came the Judge's brilliant last sentence. Oh, what inexpressible relief. I was hardly able to believe my ears, but I knew I had heard aright, for simi-' lar relief was apparent' on the faces of those near me. Even then, however, my anxiety was not gone. '!' could not believe that the jury 'would convict, but I felt almost positive; that they would say they did not agree. THE 'JURY'S VERDICT. While the jury were out of the. box ■ we were all trying- to think of somethink else to deaden our anguish of '.mind, but it was impossible, of course, to force one?s thoughts away, from the subject for more than a few seconds. Marshall Hall looked pale and •haggard, tot he was quietly confident, and he reassured me. Then the jury returned, and as I looked at their faces I felt that they were go- * ing to find the prisoner guilty. I looked at Wood, and my heart went out to hum. I seemed to know what he was feeling; "My 'God, they are going to hang- me, and I am innocent." But' my emotion was too great to look at him any longer. •Tears clouded my eyes, and when I recovered from mf sobs the jury had. given their verdict m ringing, confix dent tone, arid Wood liad left the dock a free man. I wanted to have seen his" face" when he heard the decision, but .' I COULD NOT LOOK UP. The curtain had fallen, and 'l felt that any stage play must seem dull after' watching that living drama. How wonderful it seemed to realise that I had been at the Court from 10 o'clock m the morning until 8 ai night, and yet the time had passed hire half an hour. The scene I had witnessed durijng those ten hours had been an extraordinary mixture of the Lurid and the Commonplace, but the interest had been all-absorbing and unparalleled m my experience. Outside m one of the corridors, during an interval earlier m the day! I had notioed the poor, little drooping figure of a girl wandering listlessly up and down. Someone whispered m my ear that this was Ruby Young. I longed to go atid sp-e-ak to her, for I pitied her from the bottom of my heart ; and as I looked at her the tears welled to my eyes, and I thought of Peter when he "went out and wept bitterly."