Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice, 2012, Vol. 7, No. 12
FESTIVE FEATURE
855
The Incredible Affair of the Secret Santa
Christopher Wadlow*
Mr Terrell’s Victorian melodrama
What could be more seasonable than a good old-fashioned Victorian melodrama, complete with a beautiful
and long-suffering young heroine, an insufferably priggish young hero, two vile and villainous parliamentarians (one a vulgar Tory parvenu, the other a vicious
Liberal aristocrat), a chorus of rude but honest East
End mechanicals and a sentimental Russian nihilist
with a talent for conjuring rubies and emeralds out of
thin air? And what could be more appropriate for this
Journal than an exclusive preview of just such a melodrama, from the pen of Thomas Terrell QC, of Terrell
on the Law of Patents, no less?
As I have previously mentioned,1 Thomas Terrell
was the author of three acknowledged novels: Lady
Delmar, The City of the Just and A Woman of Heart.
Lady Delmar was co-authored by Terrell with Miss TL
‘Tiny’ White, and was published by Trischler & Co in
February, 1891.2 The novel enjoyed some highly polarized reviews, and rather more than a modicum of
popular success, rapidly selling at least 5000 copies.3
The Daily Telegraph (a mass-circulation newspaper of
populist tendencies in the 1890s) bestowed its editorial
approval on the work in a leading article of 25 February, and subsequently serialized it, as did the Cardiff
Weekly Mail. Even the Morning Post (ever the most socially conservative of the London papers) acknowledged
that it ‘might seem captious to question the intrinsic
merit of a book which had attracted the degree of attention’ which had been directed at Lady Delmar.4
No sooner was Lady Delmar in print than its publishers announced that it had been adapted for the
stage, and that a London production was imminent.5
Mr Sydney Grundy was named as the author of the
dramatized version and, though he is little remembered
today, in his time he was a successful and workmanlike
adapter of novels and foreign dramas for the London
stage, so his contribution was eminently bankable. Sensational dramas involving damsels in distress were good
business in the London theatres,6 and the fact that the
heroine was still in her early 20s facilitated the casting of
a young and pretty actress. Terrell’s co-author, Miss TL
‘Tiny’ White, had enjoyed a successful career as a child
actress, and it is more than likely that Lady Delmar was
conceived with a view to her taking the title role.7
Lady Delmar certainly abounded in dramatic situations, as Max Beerbohm would say of its near-contemporary Savonarola, and its authors were no less adroit
in making sure that the resulting dramatic tension did
not lapse for an instant. Just how intense those situations were, may be judged from the fact that the action
comprised (in no particular order) a duel, a family
curse, a ghostly visitation, a murder and a massacre,
not to mention a general election and a bye-election,
and all before the heroine had come of age. Terrell’s
legal expertise was put to good effect in dealing not
only with these, but with a bigamy, an elopement, a
sham marriage and a secret one, a lost heir, a mad earl,
a foundling and a deserted wife. To accommodate all
this action, the novel’s scenes were variously set in the
East End slums, West End clubs, Lord Delmar’s bachelor apartment on Piccadilly, a villa in St John’s Wood,
an impromptu chemical laboratory, the election hustings, Siberia, Auld Reekie and the ‘gilded salons’ of the
Earl of Eustance.8 The play was due to be produced at
the Adelphi theatre,9 but even the legendary Dion Boucicault might have balked at fitting it all on stage.10
*
6
1
2
3
4
5
#
Professor of Law, UEA Law School, University of East Anglia, Norwich
NR4 7TJ. Email: [email protected].
Christopher Wadlow ‘New life and vigour at Terrell?’ (2011) 6(11) JIPLP
833.
Price 3/6d for the cloth-covered edition. A cheap paper-covered edition at
1/- was issued to coincide with the publication of Terrell’s second novel,
The City of the Just in 1892. Lady Delmar is available as a paperback
reprint (rather illegible) from the British Library, price £17.99.
John Bull (London), 28 February 1891, unless ‘Fifth Thousand’ was a
publisher’s trick. The statutory copy deposited at the British Library on
publication has these words on its title page.
The Morning Post (London), 4 March 1891. The Morning Post’s reticence
was of the rhetorical variety.
The Graphic (London), 21 February and 14 March 1891; The Era
(London), 21 February 1891.
The Author (2012). Published by Oxford University Press. All rights reserved.
Michael Diamond, Victorian Sensation (London: Anthem Press, 2004),
chapter 7.
7 above, n 10.
8 Drawing on reviews in The Glasgow Herald, 2 March 1891, and others
cited.
9 According to a letter to the Western Mail (Cardiff), 8 April 1891, from an
anonymous correspondent in Ammanford. One would normally pay little
attention to such a source, but the correspondent seems both well
intentioned and well informed. I suspect Terrell’s father, who had the
necessary local connection.
10 Terrell had to wait for his third and last novel, A Woman of Heart (Ward
and Downey London 1893) to reach the stage, as An M.P.’s Wife, with
Miss White in the title role, and an unknown dramatic adaptor. It ran for
six nights at the London Opéra Comique in February 1895. The Standard,
18 February 1895, dismissed it as ‘hopeless’ while Moonshine, 9 March
doi:10.1093/jiplp/jps167
856
FESTIVE FEATURE
As the Bristol Mercury concluded: ‘We can see how
readily an effective melodrama could be constructed
out of it.’11 Likewise (in more sardonic mood) the
Graphic: ‘As a novel, Lady Delmar is not a subject for
serious criticism. But it has often been observed that a
very poor novel may, with skilful treatment be formed
into an effective play. If this be sound theory, the result
of conversion in the present case ought to be admirable
indeed.’12
Much as I should like to do so, I cannot bring you a
review of the dramatized version of Lady Delmar, since
(like Savonarola) it never reached the stage. Why then,
with so much going for it, was Terrell’s dramatic
masterpiece never produced in public? The answer, in
the best traditions of Victorian melodrama, requires
the interpolation of an apparently unrelated story involving an elderly nobleman, a beautiful young adventuress, a marriage that never was, a whiff of scandal,
and perhaps a hint of blackmail. What more could one
ask for in this season of peace and goodwill? Surely
only one thing is missing from this festive bill of entertainment, and that is a visit to 221B Baker Street, to
witness the events related in a newly discovered fragment of manuscript from the pen of Dr JH Watson. So
turn down the gas, summon a hackney carriage and
allow yourself to be carried back in time, to the
evening of 25 December 1890, to be precise, and to The
Incredible Affair of the Secret Santa.
The astonishing confession of ‘Father
Christmas’
It was late in the evening of Christmas Day, 18—, and
Sherlock Holmes was displaying his usual restiveness
after a day of enforced idleness and (to him) meaningless ritual, when a stranger of advancing years, but tall
and distinguished of presence, was shown up to our
modest chamber. Beneath his plain travelling coat the
stranger’s dress was rich with a richness which would,
on any other occasion, have been looked upon as akin
to bad taste, since his costume of scarlet silk with white
ermine trimmings was most ineffectively hidden. His
beard, which covered most of his face, was long and
white, and—even to my inexpert eyes—palpably false.
Speaking with a voice the beauty of which I have not
often heard surpassed, he began: ‘Mr Holmes, I must
request anonymity, but you may address me as “Father
Christmas”.’
1895, described it as a ‘Terrell-ble affair’. The Morning Post, 18 February
1895, was slightly less condemnatory, as was The Era, 23 February 1895.
11 The Bristol Mercury and Daily Post, 13 March 1891.
Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice, 2012, Vol. 7, No. 12
‘You see before you one who is facing the most terrible ruin, both private and professional. Only seven
years ago I was the happiest man in the World, as
I stepped onto British soil in the company of my young
wife to be, whose identity, I regret, I must conceal,
even from you. I shall refer to her as “Miss A”, and you
may be assured that she is as noble in character as she
is lovely in face and form.
‘I became acquainted with Miss A during my return
from a visit to America, and by the time we disembarked
at Liverpool we were already affianced to be married. I
should be the first to admit that I had acted most precipitately in this respect, and once back in England I put in
hand those enquiries which I should have completed
before allowing a relationship of such intimacy to
blossom. I frankly admit that I was staggered at the result.
My intended was from an eminently respectable family, it
was true, but far from being a widow, as I had been given
to understand, it appeared that she had been married at
the age of 17 according to a ceremony performed by a
Scotch blacksmith or suchlike, that her husband was still
alive and that the marriage was still subsisting. It was
with some regret, but with much more relief, that I
excused myself from my engagement. Needless to say, a
person in my position has no desire to appear as corespondent in the divorce court.’
‘Indeed not’, interjected Holmes, ‘but had you no
other court in mind—the Queen’s Bench Divisional
Court, for example—where your presence might have
proved no less embarrassing in the event of your young
wife being subpoenaed as “Exhibit A” for the prosecution, if I might persist with that discreet but impersonal system of nomenclature?’
On hearing these words the man sprang from his
chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation, casting glances towards the windows,
the door and even the chimney, where a good old-fashioned Christmas fire blazed in the grate. Then, with a
gesture of desperation, he tore the beard from his face
and hurled it upon the ground.
‘You are right’, he cried at last; ‘I am the Lord Chief
Justice of England, as you have obviously realized. Why
should I attempt to conceal it?’
‘Why, indeed?’ murmured Holmes. ‘Your Lordship
had hardly spoken before I was confirmed in my suspicions that I was addressing the Right Honourable John
Duke Coleridge, First Baron Coleridge of Ottery St
Mary in the County of Devon, Lord Chief Justice of
12 The Graphic (London), 14 March 1891.
Christopher Wadlow . The Incredible Affair of the Secret Santa
FESTIVE FEATURE
857
England. As I recollect your lordship did indeed marry
“Miss A”, formerly known as Miss Amy Augusta
Jackson Lawford, in a private ceremony by special
licence at her mother’s home in Kensington, some five
years ago.
Also, I should advise your lordship against wearing
your ceremonial robes of office when calling incognito.
They are indicative not only of the identity of the
wearer, but of a lack of care and attention when dressing.
I take it that you donned them early this morning in
order to personate Father Christmas for the delight of
the younger members of your household. Your hasty departure from Devon must have necessitated a change of
plan, without providing any corresponding opportunity
for a change of costume, as your lordship was doubtless
preoccupied with more pressing matters. I must acknowledge, however, your lordship’s ingenuity in attempting
to pass off this accident as a deliberate disguise.’13
‘You are correct in every particular’, replied the
noble and learned Lord Chief Justice, ‘and I am suitably
chastened for not having been completely frank with
you from the outset. I shall now tell you everything
that has occurred over the past 24 hours, when all the
doubts which I thought had been settled in relation to
my marriage came back to haunt me. I should first
explain that when I married my beloved it was with a
perfectly clear conscience, it having transpired after the
most exhaustive inquiries that her supposed first marriage had always been invalid for lack of compliance
with certain essential legal formalities. I was at the time
a widower myself, my first wife having died in 1878.’
‘By an unknown hand yesterday evening I received
these’, announced our visitor, and he drew from his travelling bag a roll of printer’s proofs, tied together with
narrow pink ribbon, of the kind used for barristers’
briefs. ‘They are the galleys of a vulgar and sensational
novel which is to be published in barely a month’s time,
under the title Lady Delmar. Its authors are a Miss TL
White, a former child actress who I am sure is perfectly
free from any involvement in the affair I am about to
mention, and one Terrell, a struggling and immoral
young barrister, whose political ambitions (though nom-
inally Liberal) are utterly abhorrent to me.14 I have read
the proofs thoroughly, and there is the clearest possible
indication (to those who understand) that this Terrell is
appraised of a secret which casts a dark shadow over my
marriage. I have marked the relevant passages.’
‘And what more cunning way to announce that fact
to your Lordship than in a publication which will be
read by thousands, and none of them any the wiser for
it?’, muttered my friend, as he scanned the proofs. ‘I
think we may take it that this Terrell is not the actual
sender of these proofs, but that some other person is
involved. Who that person may be, and from what
motive they act, I cannot yet determine, but I am conscious of power and design.’
‘At any rate’, continued Holmes, as he motioned me
to pass him the Bar Directory, ‘there are certain obvious
steps to be taken if this intended publication is to be
suppressed, as I assume your lordship desires. I see that
Mr Thomas Terrell is too young to be offered a seat on
the Bench, but I take it that he would not be averse to a
silk gown, nor to a candidacy in the Liberal interest in a
friendly and conveniently situated constituency, nor to a
court appearance or two which would present him to
the public in the best possible light?’
‘All these are in hand,’ replied our guest. ‘Despite the
day and the hour, it is already arranged that Mr Terrell
will stand for Paddington at the next general election.15
If he wins, he will be entitled to take Parliamentary
silk, of course. In any event, I should not be at all surprised to see his name on the list of Queen’s Counsel
in the not too distant future.16 As for his legal practice,
it is mainly in the divorce courts. The case of Valerie
Wiedemann, the German governess seduced and abandoned in Constantinople by the odious Hon. Robert
Walpole, is due for re-trial next year.17 Fräulein Wiedemann, who is penniless, has previously conducted her
own case, winning much sympathy and admiration but
little else. It is not impossible that sufficient funds
might be raised to brief a rising young barrister,
perhaps Mr Terrell, on her behalf. Indeed, it is a
measure of the importance of this affair (much more
so than hers) that the Highest in the Land has reached
13 Lord Coleridge had indeed spent Christmas Eve, 1890, at his country
home at Ottery St. Mary, which gives credence to Dr Watson’s account.
See below, n 22. Watson’s description of Lord Coleridge’s voice and
appearance are confirmed by independent sources: Russell of Killowen
‘The Late Lord Justice of England, Some Reminiscences’ (1894) 159(454)
The North American Review 257.
14 For Terrell’s extra-legal activities, both political and amorous, see above, n
1.
15 Terrell contested the North Paddington constituency for the Liberals in
the general election of 1892, and ran a strong campaign, but failed to be
elected by 310 votes. (It would be pedantic to note that he had been
adopted in April 1890. Reynolds’s Newspaper (London), 20 April 1890.)
16 See below, n 33. Terrell took silk in 1895, after Lord Coleridge’s death,
but while a Liberal government was still in office. It is hard to imagine
his candidature being smiled upon by Lord Halsbury.
17 See above, n.1. The (second) re-trial of Wiedemann v Walpole began on
10 June 1891, before Baron Pollock and a special jury. The Times, 11 June
1891. Terrell represented the plaintiff, who recovered damages of £300.
Lord Coleridge was otherwise engaged in presiding over a trial on an
even more sensational scandal, the libel action arising out of the Tranby
Croft affair (below, n 20), which had begun on 1 June. The verdict in the
latter coincided with Terrell’s address to the jury in the former.
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Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice, 2012, Vol. 7, No. 12
into Her private purse to make a seasonable donation
to Fräulein Wiedemann’s cause.’18
‘Meanwhile’, continued my friend, ‘I see from the
passages you have indicated that the validity of the first
of your wife’s supposed marriages acutely depends on
the application of the Marriage Law (Scotland) Amendment Act, 1856, commonly known as Lord Brougham’s
Act. Would you be so kind as to pass the volume to
me, Watson? The Act, as I recollect, effectively
restricted the practice of “marriage over the anvil” at
Gretna Green and suchlike border settlements, by requiring at least one of the parties to any so-called “irregular” marriage either to have his or her usual place
of residence in Scotland at the date of the marriage, or
to have lived there for 21 days previously.’19
‘You are perfectly correct’, replied our visitor, whose
confidence was gradually returning. ‘The most stringent
investigations have revealed that although Miss
Lawford and her supposed husband did indeed elope
and plight their troth according to the Scotch form of
marriage, their period of residence fell short of the prescribed 21 day period, if only by a matter of hours. It is
upon the truth of that proposition that my happiness
now depends, and I am sorely troubled that this Terrell
may have discovered something to upset my calculations. You will take the case, I implore you? A knighthood (at the very least) has been promised, should you
deign to do so.’
‘Indeed I shall’, replied Holmes, and with that our
grateful new client took his leave.
‘Now Watson’, continued my friend, ‘we must entrust
our next actions to Bradshaw. What time is the earliest
train to Gretna Green tomorrow? I foresee that one or
other of us will be spending the next 21 days enjoying its
scant and no doubt sodden amenities, and that one will
not be me, Watson, since I have a blackmailing case in
hand which I absolutely must resolve by the 14th, after
which I have the little matter of the Prince of Wales’
somewhat battered reputation to attend to. What, you
have not heard of Tranby Croft, the Royal baccarat
scandal and the appalling behaviour of Sir William
Gordon-Cumming? I can assure you, Watson, that in a
very few months London will hear of very little else.’20
‘Meanwhile, you will need a pretext for your
extended Scotch sojourn, and it is the closed season for
fishing and grouse-shooting, I am afraid. A-Ha! I have
it. Lord Brougham’s Act is silent as to the sex or gender
of the parties marrying, or undertaking the necessary
21 days residence. Your indiscretions in print, Watson,
have raised suspicions as to the nature of our relationship. Watson, my dear Watson, would you be surprised
if I asked you to marry me?’
18 Queen Victoria is reported to have made a present of 25 guineas to
Fräulein Wiedemann, but that was before her first trial in 1888. The
Auckland Star, 7 January 1889. Presumably Lord Coleridge is referring to
a second instalment, or perhaps he was misinformed.
19 The Marriage Law (Scotland) Amendment Act 1856 (19 & 20 Vict cap
96), s 1, formerly provided: ‘[N]o irregular marriage contracted in
Scotland . . . shall be valid, unless one of the parties had at the date
thereof his or her usual place of residence there, or had lived in Scotland
for twenty-one days next preceding such marriage; any law, custom, or
usage to the contrary notwithstanding.’
20 Holmes himself would not be in London to follow the Tranby Croft trial,
since he fled to the Continent on 24 April 1891, and was reported to
have died (at Reichenbach Falls) on 4 May.
The extraordinary story of Lady Delmar
No sooner had Holmes posed this question, to which I
hardly knew how to reply, than another visitor
appeared, as if by magic. She was, if I may say so, a
young lady of strange and fascinating beauty, and only
the slightest impression of weightlessness and transparency revealed to those who understand such things that
she was, like Holmes and myself, no more than the embodiment of some fictitious character, albeit a proud
and imperious one.
Seating herself opposite us, and without waiting for
an invitation, she began.
‘Mr Holmes, I am the Lady Delmar of the novel
whose proofs you have there. I beg you to hear me out
before you engage precipitately in any action which
might lead, quite literally, to my premature obliteration
from the book of life, before I have so much as tasted
the pleasures of what it is to live, to breathe, to love, in
this real world. It was I who caused those proofs to be
sent to Lord Coleridge, in the firm expectation that he
would bring them to you. Fortunately, it did not occur
to him to reclaim them when he left, for my very existence is bound up in them. He may return for them at
any moment, and I must make haste.
I am a foundling and an orphan, and my earliest
recollection is of being rescued from a sordid childhood by one Alman Strange, a printer by trade, who
purchased my freedom for a paltry sum. My only possessions were a box containing my mother’s wedding
ring, a gold locket, miniatures of my beloved parents
(whom I hardly knew) and a sealed bundle of letters,
which I was not to open until I had reached the age of
20. The latter injunction was addressed to me in an
open letter, in my mother’s handwriting, which also
informed anyone who cared to read it that I was a
member of a great family.
‘I was brought up by my brave and noble-hearted
benefactor under the name of Jess at his home above
Christopher Wadlow . The Incredible Affair of the Secret Santa
his printer’s shop in London’s East End, which we
shared with his comic French housekeeper and one
other permanent guest, an ancient Russian lapidary,
who was in exile from his homeland on account of his
Nihilist beliefs. (I have forgotten to mention that my
guardian was a fervid Socialist and Democrat.) This
Russian had an extraordinary genius for making precious gemstones, all of them perfectly genuine, with
which he would occasionally transform the kitchen or
parlour of our humble dwelling into a scene from the
Arabian Nights.
‘I have, so far, only recounted the prologue to my
story, which properly begins when I came of age. At
the beginning of Part I of the story proper, I had
reached the full bloom of early womanhood, and I
bore (without the least presentiment) the reputation of
a girl of strange and fascinating beauty. It was in the
year 1885 and at the age of 18 that I was introduced
into the glittering and glamorous world of politics,
when I attended an open-air election rally organized by
my guardian for the local Social Democratic Federation. I was immediately seduced by the excitement of
the occasion, but even more so by the elegance and eloquence of the Liberal candidate for our constituency,
Lord Delmar. Our eyes met, and in that moment each
of us knew that our destinies would be intertwined for
ever.
‘Lord Delmar narrowly failed to win a majority in our
constituency, but this misfortune in no wise diminished
my love for him. At his insistence, I fled to Edinburgh,
where we were united in the bonds of matrimony—or so
I believed at the time. After a brief delay we returned to
London, and to a villa in St John’s Wood. I should
mention that “Lord Delmar” was a courtesy title, his
father being the present Earl of Eustance, and that we
were married as Mr and Mrs Eustance. I have no time to
relate all of my adventures, but a bye-election was called
in my old constituency, and Lord Delmar stood again. By
that time his affection for me had cooled, and I abruptly
found myself ignored by him and disowned by his
parents, the Earl and Countess of Eustance, who accused
me of being his mistress only. It was the Countess herself
who most cruelly informed me that my “marriage” to
Lord Delmar had been a mere sham, giving me no claim
to his title, his inheritance nor to the thing I valued more
than either of these—I mean the right to call myself his
wife.
‘For his second election campaign Lord Delmar took
good care to enlist the aid of the Social Democrats
under my former protector Alman Strange, and with
their support his victory was proclaimed! Alas, he never
knew of his triumph, for at the very moment of victory
FESTIVE FEATURE
859
he was assassinated by an unknown hand, subsequently
identified as that of Boron, the Russian nihilist (to
whom I had confessed my misfortunes), who avenged
himself on Lord Delmar for trifling with my affections.
Boron himself died of apoplexy soon afterwards on
hearing of the annihilation of his revolutionary comrades in Russia, leaving the proceeds of his alchemical
art (worth millions of pounds in notes and gemstones)
to Alman Strange, for the benefit of mankind.
‘It was immediately before my supposed husband’s
death that I remembered the letters and memorabilia
which had been entrusted to me by my mother. Upon
opening and reading the letters, it transpired that I was
the daughter and only offspring of the late Earl of
Eustance, and therefore the last survivor of the senior
branch of the family, previously thought to have
become extinct on his death abroad, since his marriage
to my mother had been a secret one. As such, I was the
rightful owner (by descent) of the entire Delmar and
Eustance estates, though not of the title, which had
descended separately by the male line. I was therefore
the cousin of Lord Delmar, but despite having been
“Lady Delmar” by reputation, it still appeared that
I had never been married to Lord Delmar in fact.’
‘To come to the point’, interjected Holmes, ‘have you
any reason to believe that you were ever validly
married to Lord Delmar?’
Lady Delmar looked up as if to reply, but her lips
remained closed and she seemed to be listening intently. A few seconds later, there came the faint sound of
footsteps on the stairs.
‘It is she’, cried Lady Delmar in an ecstasy of panic.
‘She hates me. If my life means anything to you, on no
account let those proofs leave this room.’
The unseasonable intervention of Lady
Coleridge
A dainty knock sounded on the door, and we instinctively turned towards it. When we looked back, Lady
Delmar had vanished. The door opened, and in walked
a lady of strangely familiar beauty, until the thought
struck me that she looked exactly as Lady Delmar
might look in perhaps 10 or 15 years’ time. Undeterred
by my presence, and unembarrassed by the irregularity
of her own entrance, she addressed Holmes.
‘I am Lady Coleridge, Mr Holmes’, she announced.
‘My husband requires those proofs immediately, and
has sent me to collect them.’
‘I should be delighted to oblige,’ replied my friend,
‘but in the present circumstances, and with your own
status depending on the outcome of my inquiries on
860
FESTIVE FEATURE
behalf of his lordship, I can hardly part with them
except into the hands of Lord Coleridge himself. Be so
kind as to intimate to him that I shall be at his disposal
tomorrow morning, as early as he cares to call.’
Our visitor said nothing. Then, in one sudden and
violent movement, she threw herself forward, seizing
the roll of proofs from where they were lying, and
hurling them towards the open fire. The proofs would
certainly have been consumed in an instant, had not
Holmes, with equal promptitude, reached out to catch
them in mid-air, though he only succeeded in diverting
their flight so that they rebounded off the mantelpiece
and landed safely in the coal scuttle. I instinctively
placed myself between our irate visitor and the fireplace, so that she should have no second chance. Seeing
herself opposed by two strong and determined men,
she promptly turned and left.
As soon as Lady Coleridge had gone, Lady Delmar
reappeared by the fireside, looking dirty and dishevelled, but clutching the proofs in one hand. Then she
too disappeared.
Lord Coleridge did not call on us the next morning,
and my friend expressed no surprise.
‘It is clear’, he said, ‘that Lady Coleridge is playing a
lone hand, and that her husband has not fully taken
her into his confidence, if at all. I infer that he may
have formed an amorous attachment to the young and
fascinating Lady Delmar, and that he might not be
averse to a change of life-companion. The annulment
of his marriage to the present Lady Coleridge, coupled
with the fact that Lady Delmar’s former “husband” is
no more, would seem to serve his purposes admirably.
Where Lady Delmar herself stands in all of this, and
how she has responded to the noble lord’s advances, I
confess I do not yet know.
‘Meanwhile, I cannot overstate the danger threatening our noble client, since with the proofs in Lady
Delmar’s hands, she is free to re-write her own life
story in any way she chooses, whether to divert attention away from the undoubted similarities between her
situation and that of Lady Coleridge, or to render
those similarities as plain as daylight to even the most
obtuse observer. I hope that our actions on her behalf
last night have at least predisposed her in our favour,
though I am afraid that between her and Lady Coleridge there exists a degree of mutual animosity which
makes me fear for the worst.
‘Fortunately, I remember her home address from the
proofs. It is a villa in St. John’s Wood, by the name of
21 The destruction of the manuscript for unknown reasons, before its
intended publication, would be consistent with Dr Watson’s somewhat
Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice, 2012, Vol. 7, No. 12
B— Lodge, in S— Avenue, to be precise. I intend to
pay Lady Delmar a return visit, unannounced and incognito, before she is likely to have finished her leisurely breakfast. These unsociable habits must be catching.’
We parted, and when we met again at Baker Street
that evening my friend . . .
[At this point Dr. Watson’s manuscript breaks off and it
is obvious that a substantial portion is missing.21 There is
appended to it a single page of uncorrected printers’ proofs
which apparently concludes the narrative.]
. . . as for the proofs, your client may rest in peace. I love
and am loved by a better man than he. Lord Coleridge may
do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has
cruelly wronged. I keep them only to safeguard my husband
and myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always
secure us from any steps which he might take in the future.
I leave a stereotype illustration of myself which he might
care to possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
Very truly yours, JESSICA TERRELL, née DELMAR.
Holmes tipped the porter who had handed us this
extraordinary document, which I have before me even
as I write, and we retraced our steps along the platform. Meanwhile, the 05:15 accelerated into the darkness, carrying the fascinating young lady and her lover
to Folkestone, to Calais, to Paris and to who knew
what adventures beyond?
We had left the station and entered the Strand, when
Holmes turned to me and spoke:
‘Now, Watson, what a fine specimen of womanhood she
would make for that cabinet of curiosities which you call
your casebook, though you will be the first to appreciate
that this particular story will not be publishable without
very considerable alterations. Infringement of Mr Terrell’s
copyright is likely to be the least of your worries.
‘The woman’s identity must be protected, of course.
What name shall we invent for her? An anagram of
DELMAR, perhaps? But only MEDLAR suggests itself,
and it would be ungallant in the extreme to equate our
beautiful young acquaintance with an over-ripe fruit,
no matter how delectable. DERMAL? MARLED?
MADLER? It is the letter M which is troublesome, so
let us dispense with it. Ah, I have it: ADLER. “Jessica”
must go, if only for euphony’s sake, but “Irene Adler”
has just the right ring to it. I leave it, as always, to your
discretion, my dear Watson; to your discretion, and to
your inexhaustible imagination.’
equivocal statement in ‘The Final Problem’ (1894): ‘I find that in the year
1890 there were only three cases of which I retain any record.’
Christopher Wadlow . The Incredible Affair of the Secret Santa
The trials and tribulations of the First
Baron Coleridge
So how much of the plot of Lady Delmar is fact, and
how much fiction?
In October 1883 Lord Coleridge had returned to
England aboard the SS Britannic after a very successful
semi-official two month tour of the United States. He
sailed in the company of one Amy Lawford, but the
significance of this did not become apparent until
nearly two years later, when it was suddenly announced
that he had married Miss Lawford, on 13 August
1885,22 by special licence, in a private ceremony at her
mother’s house in Kensington.23 The former Miss
Lawford was identified as the daughter of the late
Henry Baring Lawford, formerly a judge in Bengal and
the grand-daughter of Edward Lawford, sometime solicitor to the East India Company. There were family
connections too, old though not particularly close,
between the Lawfords and the Coleridges.24
In November 1884 and again in November 1886,
Lord Coleridge was involved in a libel action involving
him and his children by his first wife,25 arising out of a
heavy-handed attempt by his eldest son Bernard to
frustrate the intended marriage of his only daughter,
Mildred, to Charles Warren Adams, a much older
widower, by accusing him of being an unscrupulous
and predatory fortune-hunter. The proceedings were
highly embarrassing for Lord Coleridge,26 despite the
obvious partiality of the trial judge.27 Mildred and
Adams were married on 24 June 1885, but Lord Coleridge refused to attend the ceremony.28
22 13 August 1883 according to Ernest Hartley Coleridge The Life and
Correspondence of John Duke, Lord Coleridge, Lord Chief Justice of England
(London: Heinemann, 1904) and David Pugsley ‘Coleridge, John Duke,
first Baron Coleridge (1820 –1894)’ Oxford Dictionary of National
Biography (online edn, OUP Oxford 2004). Some contemporary press
sources favour 16 August, which is wrong.
23 The Times, 17 August 1885; The Auckland Star, 3 October 1885, with the
latter embellishing an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative with
such corroborative details as a threatened suit for breach of promise of
marriage. The foreign press was free from England’s draconian criminal
libel laws, and tended as a result to be much less restrained than the
English papers, though perhaps more fanciful. The New York Times, 17
June 1894 (editorial). Syndicated items from anonymous London
correspondents appeared in identical terms all over the English-speaking
world. (If I seem to favour New Zealand, it is because their free
newspaper database http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz has a higher standard
of digitization than most).
24 Noblesse oblige: a Lawford (Mr Egerton Baring, Amy’s brother) succeeded
a Coleridge (The Hon Gilbert, Lord Coleridge’s third son) as Private
Secretary to the Lord Chief Justice in 1892. The Times, 21 December
1892. Both were subsequently promoted to places in the Crown Office.
25 Lord Coleridge had married Jane Fortescue Seymour in August 1846. She
died in February 1878.
26 The Times, 22 November 1884; The Times, 5 June 1885 (Court of
Appeal); The Times, 22 November 1886. Adams has no biography, but
this episode in his life is well covered in Sally Mitchell Frances Power
FESTIVE FEATURE
861
There are very few contemporary references in
print to Lord Coleridge’s second marriage. His wife
received some criticism for her prominence in the
Tranby Croft trial, which her husband allowed to degenerate into a social spectacular with herself as
hostess,29 but that is about all. She is hardly ever
mentioned in her husband’s published letters, and no
letters between them are included in the authorized
Life and Correspondence,30 which was dedicated to her,
and edited by her cousin. All the editor of the Life
was prepared to say was this:31
The acquaintance begun on board ship ripened into an
ardent attachment, and, in due course, the marriage was
celebrated in London, August 13, 1885.
Of the lady who then became his wife, and who survives him,
it would be unbecoming to say more than this, that all who
enjoyed the intimacy and confidence of Lord Coleridge in his
later years were witnesses of the abundant happiness which
the marriage brought with it, and of the fact that difference of
age was powerless to affect the mutual confidence and esteem
which grew and strengthened till the day of his death.
One other apparent fact about the marriage and its
background went largely unreported until after Lord
Coleridge’s death. Immediately before her marriage to
Lord Coleridge took place, Amy Lawford supposedly
called on Edmund Yates, the proprietor and editor of
the World (a popular weekly society gossip-sheet) and
asked him if he intended to attack it. Yates had no
reason to do Coleridge any favours, since he had recently been convicted of criminal libel by a court presided
over by him, and sentenced to four months imprison-
27
28
29
30
31
Cobbe: Victorian Feminist, Journalist, Reformer (University of Virginia
Press Charlottesville 2004) 290 –320.
In a letter to his sister, the Hon. Bernard had implied that Adams had
been cast off by his whole family and social circle after he had seduced an
under-age girl and eloped with her to South Africa, where he was refused
a regular Church marriage. The allegations were conceded to be
groundless, but since they had been made on a privileged occasion, the
live question was whether Bernard Coleridge had acted maliciously.
Manisty J ostensibly left this question to the jury, but when they brought
in a verdict for £3000 damages he refused to accept it and entered
judgment for the defendant. An appeal resulted, and from the appeal an
arbitration as to quantum, which foundered when documents highly
prejudicial to Adams were accidentally sent to the arbitrator by the
Coleridges’ solicitor, so that another public court case resulted.
The Times, 25 June 1885 (the marriage); The Leeds Mercury, 27 June 1885
(Lord Coleridge absent).
Diamond, above, n 6, 35; Sir Edward Clarke The Story of my Life (John
Murray London 1918) 296.
Coleridge, above, n 22. Other standard sources are similarly
uninformative about this second marriage.
Coleridge, above, n 22, vol 2, 331. Most of the later published
correspondence, if not relating to Lord Coleridge’s judicial business, is
with the great and the good of late Victorian society, such as William
Gladstone, Cardinal Newman and Benjamin Jowett. Lady Coleridge died
on 27 May 1933.
862
FESTIVE FEATURE
ment.32 None the less, he apparently gave Miss Lawford
whatever assurances she had requested. The next day
Lord Coleridge apparently wrote a letter of thanks to
Yates, in which he expressed his remorse and blamed his
fellow judges for the severity of the sentence. This was,
to say the least, injudicious, since Yates made lithograph
copies of this letter and had them privately circulated, to
the consternation of Coleridge’s judicial brethren, who
insisted that it was he and he alone who had insisted on
an exemplary custodial sentence.33
‘The peculiar first marriage of Lady
Coleridge’
What the public knew about Lord Coleridge’s
second marriage was intriguing enough, but tame stuff
indeed compared to the affairs of his daughter
Mildred, and none of it bore any obvious relevance
to Lady Delmar or to the reception likely to be
afforded to the intended dramatization of the latter.
But then, the facts as they were generally known hardly
went so far as to explain this observation from the
Western Mail:34
Mr Thomas Terrell, joint author of the realistic novel
Lady Delmar . . . intends shortly to take silk and join the
South Wales circuit. . . . Lady Delmar is a novel which is
bound to create a great sensation. It is based on the
peculiar first marriage of Lady Coleridge, wife of the
Lord Chief Justice. Lord Coleridge is greatly incensed at
the work, and Mr Terrell tries to keep out of his lordship’s way.
Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice, 2012, Vol. 7, No. 12
The story Lady Delmar is founded on a feature in Scotch
marriage law to which one of our best known judges owes
his wife. The point in question is that which requires a
certain qualifying period of residence for persons who join
in a Scotch marriage. The lady to whom I refer had been
married according to the Scotch custom, but she wanted
to untie the bond. It was discovered that the legal period
of residence had not been fulfilled by two hours. That was
sufficient to invalidate the marriage and enable the lady to
marry her eminent judge. They live happily together, and
the lady, who is both accomplished and beautiful, is
popular in society.
Unlikely as it may seem, something of the sort does
indeed seem to have happened, albeit subject to a
degree of journalistic licence. The facts are surprisingly
easy to find: in the Law Reports, of all places, under
the rubric of Lawford (Otherwise Davies) v Davies.36
There we read:
The petitioner Miss Lawford, and John Augustus Jackson
Davies, intending to contract a clandestine marriage, left
London for Scotland by the train which was timed to pass
Berwick-upon-Tweed at 4 A.M. of the 1st of July, 1870,
and they arrived at Edinburgh about 6 A.M. of that day.
After remaining in Scotland until the 21st of July following, they between 11 and 12 o’clock A.M. of that day contracted a marriage by declaration before the registrar at
No. 51, Cockburn Street, Edinburgh. The petitioner prayed
for a declaration of nullity of marriage, on the ground that
the parties, being at the time domiciled in England, had
not lived in Scotland for twenty-one days next preceding
the marriage.
So what was ‘peculiar’ about the first marriage of the
second Lady Coleridge? More to the point, what basis
was there for saying that she had been married previously, and why should Lord Coleridge be ‘greatly
incensed’? Like Terrell, the Western Mail kept its head
down for a few months, and then printed this seemingly
innocuous paragraph:35
The full names of Miss Lawford are not given in the
report, but it may be confirmed that this was the same
Amy Lawford who subsequently married Lord Coleridge,37 and it may be noted that she was represented
by Lawford & Waterhouse, her family’s firm. Her
husband appears to have been an Army officer, who is
mentioned in the London Gazette for 9 February 1864
on the occasion of his promotion to Lieutenant in the
Royal Artillery.38
32 This was on a prosecution for criminal libel instigated by Lord Lonsdale
in 1884, and tried (most unusually) in the Queen’s Bench Division. Lord
Coleridge had dissented from the decision allowing the prosecution to
proceed without the fiat of the Director of Public Prosecutions, but
presided over the trial. R v Yates (1882 –83) LR 11 QBD 750. The Times,
3 April 1884 (trial) and 17 January 1885 (appeal).
33 The Auckland Star, 11 January 1886; Anon ‘Lord Coleridge and the Press’
(1886) 22 Central Law Journal 240; The New York Times, 15 June 1894.
The qualification expressed above, n 23, applies.
34 The Western Mail (Cardiff), 23 June 1891. An associated title, The Weekly
Mail, commenced the serialization of extracts from Lady Delmar on 18
July 1891.
35 The Western Mail, 7 October 1891. Why the Western Mail? It may be a
coincidence, but Charles Adams, after he had failed in the Army, at the
Bar and in the Civil Service, had lived a typical New Grub Street
existence as an author and as the editor of various publications,
including, at one time, the Western Mail. That was before 1881, when he
began to work full time for the Victoria Street Society (the precursor of
the National Anti-Vivisection Society) where he met, and began his affair
with, Mildred Coleridge. Terrell had Welsh connections, and had been a
journalist himself.
36 (1878 –79) LR 4 PD 61.
37 The Register of Marriages for Scotland confirms the marriage of Amy
Augusta Jackson Lawford to John Augustus Seymour Morse Davies at
Edinburgh on 21 July 1870. Amy Lawford was born on 9 April 1853, at
Krishnanagar, Bengal, India, so she would have been 17 in 1870.
38 Lt. Davies next appears on 27 May 1878, the year of Lawford v Davies,
when The Times reported that ‘Capt. JAS Davies, Royal Artillery’ had
been replaced as ‘Inspector of Warlike Stores and Firemaster’ at
Devonport. It is likely that he is the John Augustus Seymour Davies who
Christopher Wadlow . The Incredible Affair of the Secret Santa
Scots law regarded marriage entirely as a civil contract, and a so-called ‘irregular marriage’ could validly
be solemnized by the exchange of vows, hence the
‘Gretna Green’ marriage beloved of romantic novelists,
future Lords Chancellors,39 and connoisseurs of legal
arcana.40 A marriage by exchange of vows was valid
even without witnesses, but the obvious difficulties of
proof meant that such marriages were normally witnessed and performed before a prominent local citizen:
traditionally the village blacksmith at Gretna Green, or
the innkeeper at Smeaton’s Bridge.41 The irregular or
Gretna Green marriage had its dark side, however, as
evidenced by the notorious Yelverton bigamy case in
1861,42 and we have already seen that Lord Brougham’s
Act of 1856 had made it a requirement of such irregular marriages between non-Scottish parties that at least
one of them had to have been resident in Scotland for
at least 21 days, failing which the marriage was invalid.
The single question in Lawford v Davies was how the
21 day period was calculated. This was a matter of
Scots law, since Lord Brougham’s Act applied only to
marriages in Scotland, and the court heard evidence
from two Scottish advocates as to how time periods
were generally calculated under Scots law before concluding that the parties to the marriage had been resident in Scotland for 19 days and two part-days, and
not for the necessary 21 day period. That being the
case, it was res judicata in England after 1878 that Miss
Amy Lawford had never been married to Lt. John
Davies, and if she had never been married, then she
was free to marry Lord Coleridge without more ado.43
‘Lord Coleridge is greatly incensed’
These circumstances go a long way to explaining two
unusual aspects of Lord Coleridge’s second marriage,
39
40
41
42
is recorded as having been born on 12 March 1843 at Ahmedabad,
Bombay,India, and christened on 27 November 1845 at Reigate.
Lord Erskine, Lord Eldon and Lord Brougham himself were all married
according to the irregular Scotch form, albeit at Smeaton’s Bridge, near
Coldstream, rather than at Gretna Green.
See JA Lovat-Fraser ‘Some Points of Difference Between English and
Scotch Law’ (1894) 10 LQR 340, 344; Emile Stocquart ‘The Marriage
Laws of Scotland’ (1903) 28 Law Magazine and Review (pt I), 326, (pt II),
431.
‘Irregular marriages’, which were secular civil marriages, valid and lawful
in every respect, are to be distinguished from ‘clandestine marriages’,
which were religious marriages illegally conducted without publication of
banns. Non-specialists (such as the reporter of Lawford v Davies) tended
to misuse ‘clandestine’ for both categories.
The Yelverton Case—the Scandal that Gripped 19th Century Victorian
Society, http://media.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/bna-media.
php?id=19&ids=61. Major William Charles Yelverton, 4th Viscount
Avonmore, purportedly married Theresa Longworth by secret exchange
of vows in Edinburgh, and again according to a Catholic ceremony in
Ireland, before abandoning her and marrying another woman. Both
FESTIVE FEATURE
863
which are only inadequately accounted for by his supposed attack of cold feet, the possible opposition of his
children and his unsurprising desire for a modicum of
personal privacy. First, there is the delay of nearly two
years from the time he met his future bride on the Britannic, to the date of the marriage, as to which Amy
Lawford’s life story might quite conceivably have given
Lord Coleridge cause to think again. Secondly, there is
the fact that the ceremony took place by special licence,
with only three members of Amy’s family being present
(her mother, sister and brother), and none of Lord
Coleridge’s.
Even with Miss Lawford’s status fully established, it
is hardly surprising that all parties concerned should
have preferred to avoid the publicity attendant upon
the reading of banns (though by this time banns were
widely dispensed with among the upper classes), not to
mention that part of the marriage service which invites
anyone knowing of any lawful impediment to ‘speak
now, or forever hold thy peace’. So who might have
objected? His estranged daughter? One of his sons,
fearful of being disinherited or irate at the prospect?
Charles Warren Adams? Edmund Yates? He could rule
out Gladstone and Cardinal Newman, at any rate, since
both were close personal friends, but perhaps a yet
more fearsome intervention was to be apprehended?44
Needless to say, the plot of Lady Delmar does not
correspond to these events except in a very few details,
but those details were both crucial and conspicuous, at
any rate to those who knew what they were looking for.
In the novel, Lord Delmar had originally encountered
Lord Brougham’s Act as the crux of an anecdote involving the impulsive marriage of a clubland acquaintance
to a chorus-line dancer, his friend’s subsequent repentance at this social solecism, and his release from the
irksome bonds of matrimony by the discovery that his
purported marriages to Miss Longworth were ultimately held to have
been invalid.
43 I should acknowledge the existence of another version, which states that
Amy Lawford ‘ . . . had supposed herself to have been previously married
(at Retford, 30 June 1878) under Scottish law, to her cousin . . . ’, and that
after living with him for an unspecified number of years she discovered
that she had not fulfilled the legal requirements of residence. This is
intrinsically improbable: the only Retford in the United Kingdom is in
Nottinghamshire, where an irregular Scots marriage could not
conceivably have taken place (though there is the possibility of a misprint
for Redford, near Edinburgh), and the timing is hopelessly inconsistent
with the dates of Lawford v Davies. George Edward Cokayne and Vicary
Gibbs The Complete Peerage (2nd edn St. Catherine Press London1913),
vol III, 371 fn (d).
44 See Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1798).
Lord Coleridge was the great-nephew of the poet. Readers familiar with
Lord Coleridge’s career will be able to supply the name of more than one
‘ancient mariner’ with a grudge, a guilty conscience, and a suitably grim
and grisly tale to tell.
864
FESTIVE FEATURE
Journal of Intellectual Property Law & Practice, 2012, Vol. 7, No. 12
Davies, and the argument which Terrell presents in
Lady Delmar is very far from watertight. Finally, Miss
Lawford could claim the status of res judicata for the
decree of nullity of her ‘first’ marriage to Lt Davies,
even if that decision might have been delivered per incuriam.
intended had travelled to their nuptials in Edinburgh
on a train which crossed the border at 1:30 am, little
realizing that the day of her arrival was invalid for the
purposes of computing the necessary 21 days.45 Lord
Delmar had discussed the incident informally with the
barrister involved in the case, in the course of which he
had specifically been told of Lawford v Davies and its
implications.46 On that basis he had deliberately curtailed his and Jess’ ante-nuptial period of residence in
Edinburgh to less than the statutory 21 days, calculating that the unsuspecting Jess would believe herself to
be his lawful wife, but that he could discard her
without complications whenever he wanted.47
Where Lord Delmar’s dastardly scheme came
undone was that he had failed to reckon with another
form of Scotch irregular marriage, known as marriage
by cohabitation with habit and repute, to which Lord
Brougham’s Act expressly did not apply.48 The dramatic
dénouement of Lady Delmar arose from the fact that
she and Lord Delmar (the courtesy title of Edward
Eustance, her reputed husband) had continued to live
in Scotland for a couple of weeks after the ceremony as
Mr and Mrs Eustance, while Jess was convalescing from
an accident.49 So Lady Delmar (by reputation) was
Lady Delmar (by marriage) after all!
The direct application of this chain of reasoning to
the marriage of Lord and Lady Coleridge is anything
but straightforward, however, and of course the consequences would have been very different, since if the
facts had corresponded then the implication would
have been that Amy Lawford was not the lawful wife of
Lord Coleridge at all, and that her marriage to him in
1885 was bigamous, unless her first husband had died
in the meantime. We may take it for granted that John
Davies and Amy Lawford cohabited as husband and
wife after 1870, but we have no reason to believe that
they did so in Scotland, and cohabitation in England
or anywhere else would have had no corresponding
legal effect.50 Nor is there any decided case expressly
dealing with the situation, as there is with Lawford v
Would all this have been sufficient to have frustrated a
stage production of Lady Delmar? Quite possibly. On
the one hand, most of the events in question were
matters of public record, and Lady Delmar (the novel)
had got through the press without obvious difficulties.
There was nothing obviously libellous of Lord Coleridge here, no matter how embarrassing it might have
been for the Lord Chief Justice to watch while yet
another load of his family linen was washed in public.
The position as to Lady Coleridge was rather different.
After all she really was the Miss Lawford of Lawford v
Davies, and on Terrell’s account she comes across as a
lucky and rather calculating adventuress, if not quite as
an intending bigamist.
Beyond that, all is conjecture. Was it really by chance
that Amy Lawford and Lord Coleridge ‘met as strangers’51 on shipboard, and that love blossomed spontaneously between a young woman of 30 and a man aged
62? Then again, what had happened to Amy Lawford
between 1878 and 1883? There is a reasonable inference
that she must have planned to marry in 1878, since
nothing else can account for the nullity proceedings
which were commenced in 1877. However, if Terrell
intended to imply that she had already set her cap at
Lord Coleridge, then the imputation must be rejected.
At the start of 1878 Lord Coleridge was still married to
his first wife (Jane Fortescue, née Seymour), who died
suddenly after a short illness on 6 February, less than
two weeks before Miss Lawford obtained her decree
nisi. If Amy Lawford was planning another marriage,
then it cannot have been to him.52
45 Lady Delmar, above, n 2, 114 –122. The device of a rising young
politician wanting to free himself from an inconvenient marriage is
reminiscent of Wilkie Collins Man and Wife (1870), in which a feature of
the Irish marriage laws is exploited to similar effect. Wilkie Collins’
treatment of Scots marriage law in the main body of his novel is entirely
fanciful.
46 Intriguingly, the barrister (one John Fenley of the Temple), referred to
Lawford v Davies as ‘a case with which every lawyer is familiar, from
some curious circumstances which arose afterwards’. What those
circumstances were is not specified, except to say that ‘the lady had it in
her mind to marry again’ and wanted to be certain that she would not be
committing bigamy if she did so. Lady Delmar, above, n 2, 138.
47 Lady Delmar, above, n 2, 176.
48 The Act applied only to any ‘irregular marriage contracted in Scotland by
declaration, acknowledgment, or ceremony’. Over the remaining form of
irregular Scotch marriage—sufficiently identified by its title of marriage
per verba de futuro subsequente copula—Terrell drew a veil, and so shall I.
49 Lady Delmar, above, n 2, 174, 183, 328.
50 McCulloch v McCulloch (1725) Ferg App 257; 3 Eng Ecc 419, HL (Cohabitation in Isle of Man).
51 Coleridge, above, n 22, vol 2, 330.
52 The quotation which forms the heading for this section (spoken by Judge
Brack at the very end of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler (1890), when Hedda is
discovered to have shot herself), was adopted by a critic a propos the plot
of Terrell’s own play An M.P.’s Wife. The Era, above, n 7. English
translations vary.
‘People don’t do these things’