 | Dukesborough tales |  |
JUDGE MIKE'S COURT.
And so he plays his part.”
1. CHAPTER I.
ONCE upon a time, in this glorious country, a respectable but
uneducated woman, who had taken to her home an orphan
child of poor parents, had brought her up with great care and tenderness,
and, though reluctantly, allowed her to receive, at the hands
of some other benevolent persons, a year's schooling, had the misfortune
to lose her protégée. The girl, who was very pretty, being offered
a home in a family where she thought she could have better society
and more enjoyments than were to be had in the house of her first
benefactress, accepted this offer, and refused to return. The good
lady, in her distress searching eagerly how she might avoid placing too
great blame upon the beloved child of her adoption, attributed her loss
to education.
“It was edyecation,” she said bitterly, when she had given up all
efforts to recover her lost treasure; “it was edyecation that done it all.
I never seed a more biddable child than she was before she went off
to school. You may tell me what you please about your edyecation:
it's my opinion that the more edyecation people git, the meaner they
git.”
Woe to the schools and colleges henceforth if she could have had
her way with them!
There are, and for a long time there have been many persons in this
good State of Georgia who feel like this good woman regarding another
great instrument of its civilisation. We all remember (at least those
who are old enough) how long a time it required to get the establishment
of a Supreme Court for the Correction of Errors. What courts
we did have seemed to be such nuisances that men were generally
opposed to having any more. At length, being partially convinced
that such a tribunal might serve to settle at least some points of law,
and thereby lessen some useless litigation, it was established. Yet,
notwithstanding the great good that has been accomplished through its
instrumentality, there are very many who still regard it as only another
addition to the various means of vexing citizens with law-suits; and we
yet meet with those who are fond of speaking of the good old times
when courts were fewer, and men did not have to carry their cases out
of their counties after they had been once settled at home.
Well, those old times were very good in many respects. Beef was
cheap, and the temptation to steal it was small. Men did not very
often commit malicious mischief, or keep open tippling-houses on forbidden
days. Land was not high; men lived more widely apart, and
almost every one kept his own whiskey at home. Vagabonds were
less numerous than now; mostly because the credit system being not
greatly developed, they were wont to carry upon their persons the
unmistakable badges of their profession. It is pleasing to an old man
like me to recur to those old times. Corn, twenty cents a bushel,
except to wagoners, who, being strangers, and considering that their
silver might prove to be pewter, were made to pay a quarter of a dollar.
Bacon, no price at all, because everybody had a plenty, and because
the woods were full of game and the creeks were full of fish. Blessed
be the memory of those old times! The most of those who were then
my companions and friends are gone, and I am left almost alone. Yet,
for the many recollections which they bring to me, I say again, Blessed
be the memory of those old times!
But, like all other times, those old ones had their evils and their
wants. Men and systems were not perfect, even then. True, they
had not many schools, and they had no Supreme Court. Yet, in what
schools and courts they had, there were some things which, when
men thought of them at all, they thought might have been done differently
or left undone. I think that we have improved somewhat in the
matter of a few of the institutions of the old times. I speak thus with
what seem to be derelictions from the simple habits which
prevailed when I was a boy. The young of this generation, it seems
to me, are not so respectful to the old as they used to be. Discipline
surely has lost some of its ancient control. To take my own case for
instance: I am convinced that when I was young I treated men who
were as old as I am now with more consideration than that which I
receive from the young. I do not like to complain, and a man at my
time of life should beware how he complains. Still, I can but notice
in the present generation a want of that reverence which, when I was
a boy, the young felt for the aged. I know how wont old persons are
to find fault with present times, and therefore I try to endure as I would
like to be endured. And while I may mistake myself in this regard,
nevertheless I do believe that I can fairly compare with one another
the various periods in which I have lived. My opinion upon the whole
is, that while in some respects there have been deteriorations from the
habits of old times, there have been improvements in others. Now,
as for the schools in old times, bad as some of them were, they had
ways of righting themselves. The things done in them, though seriously
inconvenient at the time of their doing, were seldom very serious
in their consequences. Boys knew them to be, as they were, institutions,
and so learned to get used to them. Or, if a schoolmaster grew
to be too bad, or wouldn't give a holiday at Whitsuntide, he got his
ducking, and things went on better for a while. The same thing, however,
could not be said of the courts and the judges, when, as was
sometimes the case, the latter were neither fully educated in all the
learning applicable to all cases arising in Law and Equity, nor wholly
above the prejudices and other infirmities to which the rest of mankind
are subject. The latter generations have surely made advances in the
matter of laws and courts of justice. We always had a great Judiciary
system, if we had carried it to the point designed by its founders.
But we were left with irresponsible judges, and some of them were —
what they were.
Let us look back a little into those old times, while men are thinking
about them and giving especial praise to them, and reminding one
another of how glorious they were. I observe that this habit prevails
less with the truly old than with the middle-aged, who have had not
enough of old age to obtain its true wisdom. I trust, therefore, it will
not be amiss in me, who have lived in both the old times and the new,
scene or two that figured and were enacted in a court in our neighborhood,
long, long ago. And as I have used many introductory words
(and those possibly somewhat involved), and as I have mentioned one
fact (though it has nothing to do with the narrative except to help in
pointing its moral), and as I am a little tired, I will stop for the present
where I am, and call what I have already written, a chapter.
2. CHAPTER II.
A young man, a native of Virginia, and a graduate of one of the
colleges of that State, had come to Georgia for the purpose of seeking
a home and practising his profession of the law. One morning, in the
beginning of spring, in company with a middle-aged gentleman, whose
acquaintance he had newly made, he rode towards the village near
which the latter lived, for the purpose of being introduced to some
of the members of the Bar residing there. As the two were riding
along, after some conversation upon the practice of law and other pursuits
in the South, the younger gentleman asked of the elder if there
was in the South a Court of Errors.
“I do not remember to have so heard, but I presume that you have
such a court.”
“Yes, indeed,” exclaimed the elder, “many a one. We have no
other sort in Georgia. But I know what you mean, sir,” he added,
seeing the young man's surprise. “I answered your question literally,
because what I say is very nearly literally true; and it is so, doubtless,
because we have no court for the correction of errors which our other
courts continually commit. I know little of the law myself, although
I once studied it and was admitted to the Bar. I never practised, and
yet I have seen enough to know that, with our present Judiciary
system, the law can never become a science settled upon any ascertained
principles.”
“There can be very little doubt as to that.”
“We have no lack of lawyers of real ability; but I doubt if there
is in the South another State so deficient in its courts as ours. We
have, as I said, many able lawyers, but seldom an able judge. The
salary is so small that a lawyer of first-rate ability, unless he be a man
touch of dignity which did not escape the other, “rarely enter the professions”),
will not go upon the Bench. It is, therefore, generally occupied
by men of inferior learning and ability; and as we have no
Supreme Court, and every judge is independent in his circuit, there is,
of course, no uniformity in their decisions, but many an error, you may
be sure. I reside here near the boundaries of two circuits. I and
my neighbors of two adjoining counties live under two different systems
of laws. I am tolerably well acquainted with that of my own
circuit; but I dare not move out of it, as I have known others to do
to their sorrow. Even here, whenever a new judge is elected we shall
have a new system to learn; for, like every schoolmaster who begins
by throwing out of the schoolroom all the text-books which his predecessor
employed, he will fear that he will be considered nobody unless
he overrules much of what our present judge has decided.”
“Does not your constitution provide for a Supreme Court?”
“It does; but, bless you, sir, the people are almost unanimously
opposed to its establishment. They say that they are already too
much worried by courts to think of making any more of them. The
lawyers too, the most of them, are equally opposed to it, because they
know — hang them! and who should know so well as they?— that it
would lessen litigation by lessening what is to them the glorious uncertainty
of the law. A man who would get an office here must not
open his mouth in favor of a Supreme Court. He might as well avow
himself a disciple of Alexander Hamilton, or a friend of the administration
of John Adams.”
They had just reached the public square, and alighted, when Mr.
Parkinson pointed to a little office on the corner of it, into which two
men were entering.
“There go two limbs of the law now. We will go in at once,” and
leading the way, he walked in and introduced the young man, Mr.
Overton, to Mr. Sandidge and Mr. Mobley.
Mr. Sandidge (“Elam Sandidge, Attorney-at-Law,” Overton had
read upon a shingle as he entered) was about fifty years old, tall, with
very long legs, which seemed as if they were ashamed of his rather
short body, from the fact that they would never hold it straight up.
He had long arms, long hands, and long fingers, which last never
looked clean. He wore shabby clothes too, which, if they had been
ever so fine, would yet have looked shabby from a habit he had of chewing
on himself. Yet, for all these drawbacks, Mr. Sandidge had, as it
seemed, an ambition to appear perfectly and universally agreeable.
His countenance, when he looked at another, was invariably clothed in
smiles. He never laughed; he only smiled. While nature had given
him no very acute sense of the humorous, and while, therefore, he
never felt like laughing, he had, apparently from a sense of duty,
learned to smile, and he smiled at everything. If one said `Good
morning' to him, he was sure to smile as he returned the salutation.
If one, in answer to an inquiry concerning his health, complained of a
headache, he smiled the most cordial sympathy. There was no considerable
amount of cheer conveyed by his smiles — no more than
there was by his shabby coat and hands; but like these, they were a
part of him, and one got used to them. But if any one said anything
funny where he and others were standing, and no person smiled except
the invariable Sandidge, he felt that the joke had been a failure.
When Mr. Parkinson introduced Mr. Overton, Mr. Sandidge arose
and extended his hand with a smile, which seemed to say: “Ah! you
young dog! You have come at last? I knew you would.”
Mr. Mobley was a stout, fine-looking man, about twenty-three years
of age, of the middle height, with dark complexion, very black hair
and whiskers, and a fine mouth, full of large sound teeth of perfect
whiteness. There were an ease and grace in his manner, and an expression
upon his face, which marked him at once to Mr. Overton as
a man of talent and education. Immediately after the introduction
Mr. Sandidge looked at the new-comers and then at Mr. Mobley with
a smile, which the latter interpreted at once; and after an exchange of
a few words of civility, he rose to go.
“No, do not leave, Mr. Mobley,” Mr. Parkinson said. “We have
no especial business with Mr. Sandidge, but came to see you both.
So please to remain, unless you have business which calls you away.”
Mr. Sandidge smiled upon Mr. Mobley as he resumed his seat; and,
but that we knew that he was bound to smile at all events, we should
have suspected that he was infinitely amused by the idea that Mr.
Mobley should have had any business of such pressing importance as
to require him to go to it in a hurry. He then turned to Mr. Parkinson
and smiled inquiringly; for this was the first time that that gentleman
had ever called on him, except upon business.
“Mr. Overton has removed to Georgia with a view of establishing
brought him here to make him acquainted with you both, knowing that
he could obtain from you more of such information as he needs than
he could from myself; besides,” he added, looking at Mr. Mobley, “I
desired to give him an opportunity of extending his acquaintance among
those with whom he might spend pleasantly such of his leisure as he
will have when he is wearied with the dullness of Chestnut Grove.”
Mr. Mobley bowed; Mr. Parkinson rose, and saying that he would
return in an hour, left the office, Mr. Sandidge smiling at him all the
while, even at his back as he went out. A conversation was begun at
once between the young men, with an occasional but rare contribution
from Mr. Sandidge. The latter was no great talker in a social way.
It was a wonderful thing to him how many things people could find to
say to one another on matters of no business whatever, but only in the
way of civility. He could talk forever on business, and in the Court-house
often made speeches of two hours' length. He understood such
things mighty well; but it puzzled him to see two persons sitting down
together and talking at random and with interest on miscellaneous
subjects, sporting from one to another with perfect ease, having no
apparent motive except a desire in each to entertain the other. There
was Mobley now, he would think, a young man who in the Court-house
was as skittish as a girl, whose practice, though he had fine education
and ability, after a year's pursuit of it, was barely supporting him, and
yet, as soon as he was out of that dread place, and in the society of
the most intelligent and able of the profession, would bear his part in
the discussion of general subjects, and even of legal questions, with an
ease and a fluency which made him the most interesting of them all,
and the object of the especial envy of Mr. Sandidge. Being no
philosopher, Mr. Sandidge could not, for the life of him, understand
how these things could be; and it seemed to him to be not only strange,
but wrong that Mr. Mobley, whom he was accustomed to run over in
the Court-house, should not only seem to be, but should actually be
above him everywhere else. Yet such things have been before and
since, and are to be hereafter, and have excited the surprise of others
besides Mr. Sandidge. How many young men of excellent talents and
the most finished education have for a year or two striven in vain to
begin successfully careers at the Bar, and have at length shrunk from
the pursuit, and left its honors and emoluments to be gathered by the
Sandidges — the Sandidges whom men laughed at when they saw them
dozen years, and after half a dozen more years have carried them all
their cases, and have at last lived to see them rich and prosperous.
Mr. Sandidge would not have thought of exchanging places with Mr.
Mobley, or the fine young fellow who had been just now introduced to
him; but the more they ran on with each other about law, literature,
and what not, the more he wondered at and envied what he thought
was their only gift. But he smiled whenever anything was said to him,
and when he was expected to say, and did say anything to them. When
Mr. Overton inquired if there was much litigation in that circuit, and if
money was to be made by the practice, Mr. Mobley slightly blushed,
looked at Mr. Sandidge, and answered that there was not a great
amount of litigation then originating, and that Mr. Sandidge knew
more as to what was to be made by the practice than himself. Regaining
instantly his ease of manner, he laughed good-naturedly at
himself, who had managed, he said, “thus far to make money to pay
my board and store accounts, and not, I think, anything over. I do
not, however, despair to do better after a while,” he added, looking
composedly upon Mr. Sandidge.
Mr. Sandidge being thus appealed to, and looking as if he felt that
that was a subject of which he ought to know something, answered
that there were some few lawyers in the circuit who were making a
living. Law was a mighty hard thing to make a living at. He had
been trying it twenty-five years and better, and ought to know how hard
it was. There was no business that it was not easier to make money
at than law. If he had his time to go over again, he hardly thought
he would undertake it. Indeed, he knew he would not if he knew
what a young man had to go through with the first five or six years.
Now, Mr. Sandidge had commenced the practice of the law without
a dollar, and with not even a good suit of clothes. But he economised.
He borrowed money at eight per cent., and shaved paper
at sixteen and twenty. He went to every Justices' Court in the county;
learned the name of every man in it, got acquainted with every man's
business, hunted up and set agoing litigation, until here he was in
the possession of at least forty thousand dollars. And though many a
man would have shrunk from what Mr. Sandidge had to go through
with, yet Mr. Sandidge told a story when he said what he did. He
would have gone through with it a thousand times over. He was
proud of what he had gone through. Like most self-made men, he
money which he had made by the law, he loved the spyings which it
gave opportunities to make into the secrets of his neighbors, their
silent struggles with sufferings and embarrassments, and he loved yet
more the influence which the knowledge thus acquired enabled him to
exert over them. But it was not his wont to encourage young lawyers.
Nobody encouraged him, he reflected, and let them encourage themselves.
“Yes,” he said, “law is a hard thing to get on with. There's a
power of books to read, which requires a power of money to buy; and
there are so many contrary decisions on the same p'ints, and the practice
and the pleadings are so hard to learn, and then a man, a young
man, has so often got to speak before the court, where everybody is
watching him, and when he don't know sometimes what to say when
a pint is made he didn't expect and aint prepared to meet, and he
gets embarrassed, and sometimes even has to give up the case and be
non-suited. These things, as I said, and a heap of others I might
mention, makes law a hard business to follow. But some men do, by
hard labor, make a living by it, by being economical. They say in
Augusta and in Savannah it is easier to get along with it, and that
some men even make fortunes. There is more litigation there, and not
so much competition. But,” he ended, smiling quite encouragingly,
“it may be worth while to try it even here. The profession is pretty
well stocked to be sure, but the more the merrier, you know;” and he
smiled almost audibly, and with such satisfaction at this attempt at
pleasantry, that Mr. Mobley laughed at it heartily, and said:
“And, Sandidge, you know it is some consolation to a fellow who is
getting along slowly to know that there are others who are at no faster
pace than himself; for apropos to your proverb is the one that misery
loves company.”
“Just so,” answered Mr. Sandidge; and at this moment Mr. Parkinson
returned, and the two took their leave.
When they were on their way home, Mr. Parkinson asked Overton
how he liked the specimens, as he termed his new acquaintances. The
latter answered that he was much pleased with the young man.
“And you are not very much pleased with Sandidge, I suppose?”
“Why, no, I cannot say that I am greatly prepossessed in his favor;
and I fancy he returns the compliment, as he discourages my notion to
practise law.”
“He does, does he?” said Mr. Parkinson, laughing. “I knew he
would; and though I am much of his opinion in regard to any young
man who can do anything else, yet I must say that his example is encouraging.
He very well illustrates how a man of little talent and less
education can grow rich, and even attain to some eminence at the Bar.
Sandidge is certainly a queer genius. Twenty-five years ago everybody
laughed at him — the judge, the lawyers, the juries, and the people.
But Sandidge laughed too in his way, and worked every day and night;
and somehow he got into practice. The judge and lawyers came at
last to respect him, the sheriffs to fear him, and the people to be in awe
of him; until now he has made a fortune, has more influence with the
present judge and is more successful before juries than any lawyer in
the circuit. I knew he would attempt to discourage you; he always
does. I doubt if it is because he has no feeling, but because it gratifies
his vanity to exaggerate those obstacles which he had to overcome,
and which nobody thought he would. And Sandidge, though he looks
like a fool, is really a pretty good lawyer. There are men infinitely
his superiors, but he is untiringly industrious. He prepares his cases
so thoroughly, and hangs to them so doggedly, and studies the people
so constantly, that he is, I repeat it, the most successful practitioner I
know. Hs loves the law; he glories in it, and knows nothing outside
of it.”
“But Mr. Mobley; he is certainly a man of real talent and education.
Is he not likely to succeed?”
“Mobley has very superior talent and a most finished education.
He was educated by an uncle who died in the first year of his collegiate
life, leaving in the hands of his executors money to enable him to complete
his course and enter his profession. His parents both died when
he was a child. But Mobley shines everywhere except in the court-room.
There he does not yet seem to be quite at home. I have heard
him speak once or twice, and he certainly speaks well. But Sandidge
worries him so with the starting of unexpected issues that he is often
put to his wits' end. If he could live without the practice, I am
inclined to think that, notwithstanding his pride, he would abandon it.
He will succeed though after a while, I doubt not, if he will persevere.
He is a fellow of fine wit, and gores Sandidge badly sometimes when
he can reach him, which is not often the case, with this weapon. But
Sandidge only smiles, and almost always gives things a turn which is
sure to give him the best of it at last.”
“Do you usually have much business in the courts?”
“And if so, which of these men do I employ to attend to it, you
would ask? Well,” continued Mr. Parkinson, somewhat apologetically,
“what little I have in that way I usually give to Sandidge. I have
known him a long time, and he has always seemed to act an honest
part towards me. Besides, a man, you know, does not usually like to
change the channel of his business.”
Mr. Parkinson did not have the heart, after what he had said of Mr.
Sandidge's influence with the presiding judge, to give that as another
reason for retaining him.
The young man said nothing; but he thought with himself that,
hard as it was on a poor fellow like Mobley, it was natural. And is it
the less hard because it is natural, that the world will delay to give help
to a man in any business of life until, by long toiling and striving alone,
he has at last reached a point where he can live without it? Yet such
is the way of life. You man with many clients, and many more friends,
has there not been a time when nineteen of every twenty of those
whom you now value the most highly would have forborne to lend you
a helping hand, but would have waited until they had seen whether by
the aid of the few who did stand by you you were likely to rise or to
fall? Let us not then fall out with what is natural in our fellow-men,
and what our very selves would do, and what we actually do, because
it is natural to us. We would spare ourselves many an uncomfortable
feeling of contempt for the infirmities of human nature as we see them
illustrated in the lives of our neighbors, if we would but reflect that,
what is more often than otherwise the case with us, we would act in
the same circumstances just as they do. Ask yourself, O best of
men, how many young men are there in any profession whom you so
cordially wish to prosper in it that you would be willing to take any of
your business out of its old tried channel — a channel so freighted with
yours and other people's business that it would not miss the little you
take from it — and risk it in their care until they have proved that the
consignment will be a safe one? Or if you sometimes do this, is it
not done a little slyly, and do you not feel like apologising, and when
discovered, do you not actually apologise to the old channel, and tell
how trifling was the freight you have taken from it, and how you supposed
it would not care to be pestered with such a small matter? Yes,
and the old channel says it makes no difference, and that it is all right;
but then you feel as if it was not all right, and as if you had injured
boat-load on it at once.
3. CHAPTER III.
“Can't we get through with the docket by Friday night?”
“There's business enough here to occupy the whole week, and more
too. You'll have to sit an adjourned term to get through with it.”
“I shall do no such thing; and what is more, I shall adjourn the
court Friday night.”
Mr. Sandidge smiled with wonted complacency. “I don't think we
can hardly get to the Appeal before Wednesday dinner; and it looks
like a pity but what some of them cases that's been continued so long
could be tried. We lawyers aint like judges, to go and draw our salaries
every three months, but have to wait until the cases are disposed
of, and sometimes a long time getting them then.”
This excellent joke put him on a broad grin. The Judge did not
seem to appreciate it much, though he smiled in faint commendation.
Let us contemplate this judge a little. He was fifty years old,
twenty-five of which had been spent in the practice of the law, in which
he had risen to a fourth rank. As a set-off to this professional eminence,
he had remained as he had begun, poor in purse. Three years
before this an election was being held for the office of Judge of the
Superior Court of that circuit. Let us remember that at that time the
Judge of the Superior Court was the only high judicial officer in the
circuit. He was both judge and chancellor. His discretion was
uncontrolled and uncontrollable in all cases regarding the security, the
property, and reputation of citizens; and even his construction of the
Constitution of the State was unalterable by any human power. Three
years before, politics had taken one of its turns, and the party to which
the fourth-rate lawyer of twenty-five years' practice belonged unexpectedly
found itself with a small majority in the legislature. The incumbent
of the Bench, being a member of the minority, was of course to
share its fate and retire from office. There were two prominent candidates
from the party in power; one a retired member of Congress, who
was finding it difficult to recover the practice which he had given up
fifteen years before, and the other a man of ten years' connection with
sought the office for the éclat and the power which it would confer upon
him. Several ballots had been made without an election. Mr. Elam
Sandidge, for certain reasons of his own, had consented to represent
his county in the Senate, and was one of the party in minority. A
more amused man it was seldom any one's privilege to see than was
he, when on the repeated counting out of the votes the presiding officer
announced that there had been no election. He looked to this and to
that one on either side of the house, and went about whispering to
some and winking at others.
“What is that dirty old rascal doing on our side of the aisle?” inquired
a majority member of his neighbor.
“I can't tell; but some rascality brings him here, you may swear to
that.”
While the votes were being counted out for the fifth time, Mr Sandidge
walked quickly over to that side. A dozen anxious, pitiful looking
members gathered around him.
“Put him up next! put him up next time!” he said, and walked
back again, taking in with a sweeping wink the whole of his own party.
When the result was announced, and directions given to prepare for
another balloting, “Mr. President! Mr. President!” screamed a voice
from the majority side, “I announce the name of Littleberry W. Mike,
Esq., from the county of —.” This announcement was followed by
roars of laughter from the minority, and by hisses and cries of “Who
is he?” from the other. Immediately, however, the leaders of both
were busy as bees. Threats and criminations were heard among the
friends of the two prominent candidates; then entreaties from both to
the opposition. “Take him down, for Heaven's sake.” “It is a shame
by blood.” “Don't put him on us, if you please.” “Anybody else,”
etc. All to no purpose. The nominee was elected on the next ballot.
“Why, how did you get elected, Berry?” slyly asked Mr. Sandidge
of the judge elect, as on the dispersion of the members he met him,
trembling and pale as a corpse, at the foot of the gallery, and shook
his cold hand. “It appears like you must have got some votes from
our side of the house.” The newly elected pressed the hand of his
friend, and they went together to the hotel, on the way to which he
was forced to hear from among the crowd many a bitter jest of which
he was the subject.
This election was an instance of that miserable policy yet adhered
hesitate to contribute all they can to make them do the greatest amount
of harm to public interests. Men may say what they will of caucuses,
but until there is a higher standard of public and private virtue
amongst us, they will be indispensable.
When a man of inferior parts is raised to an office of great authority,
he is apt, unless he has great virtue and very amiable dispositions,
to exert that authority, as far as is compatible with safety, in enforcing
a regard which those parts have been inadequate to secure. Cowardly
as this is, it is not more injurious to truth, and justice, and reason, than
when such a man is led by such an elevation to look upon himself as
having been heretofore depreciated, and to consider the elevation,
whatever were the circumstances which effected it, as the decree of
infinite justice in his favor, determining at last to give to merit its just
reward. Sometimes he is in one, and sometimes in the other of these two
states alternately; never being able to determine exactly whether he
ought to occupy his position or not, but ever attempting to resolve the
doubt by such a vigorous exercise of authority as will at least foreclose
all doubts in the minds of others as to his actual possession of it. Of
such a character was the newly elected judge. He had long had his
heart set upon the Bench. He looked up to it as a mighty eminence
— mighty enough to satisfy the most eager ambition. Yet his desires
were not actuated wholly by ambition. He wanted the salary. He
needed it. He was poor and had a family; and pitiful as the salary
was, it was twice as much as he made by his practice. Ashamed as
he was to know how the people regarded the notion of his being Judge
of the Superior Court, he never, even for one moment, gave us his
desire to become so, but kept himself always, yet in a quiet way, in
candidacy for it. And though to the leading members of the Bat he
had never presumed to speak of the matter, knowing that he would be
laughed at if he did, they yet well knew what his thoughts and his
hopes were. Nor had he publicly announced his candidacy at the
meeting of the Legislature. He knew well that his only chance of
election depended upon the fact, whether true or false it made no material
difference with him, that he was considered the weakest and
shabbiest of the candidates of his party. While the prominent ones
of these were making interest with the leaders of the party in the Legislature,
he had quietly, and in a way known only to himself and them,
and very probably to Mr. Sandidge, obtained the promise of assistance
votes under the direction of him and Mr. Sandidge, to defeat the election
of any one until a suitable opportunity should occur for the name
to be presented. We have seen with what result this was done.
With the recollection of all the circumstances, Judge Mike thanked
two objects for his elevation: first, his own lucky genius, and secondly,
Mr. Sandidge. He was, doubtless, quite inclined to indulge in kindly
and grateful feeling towards the latter from habit; for he was under a
pecuniary indebtedness to him of several hundred dollars, under a writ
of fieri-facias which Mr. Sandidge three or four years before had been
kind enough to “lift,” to have transferred to himself, and to forbear
enforcing payment thereof, in consideration of sixteen, which he called
a living per-centum of interest. What sacrifices the indulgent creditor
was always making, when at every renewal of the note for the extra
interest he solemnly avowed his need of the money, and of his submission
to go without it, for no earthly reason than to oblige his friend!
On that friend's accession to the Bench, when first they were alone
together, he took the last note of renewal from his pocket-book, and
handed it to him without saying a word. The Judge appearing surprised,
Mr. Sandidge, with smiling solemnity, protested that he never
could exact usurious interest from a Judge of the Superior Court of the
State of Georgia. He hoped he had too much respect for the dignity
of the office to do any such thing as that. The Judge, after feeble remonstration,
took the note, looked at it, sighed, and tearing it slowly
to pieces, felt already one of those palpitating and almost painful joys
which only men in office have. It was a small matter, but it touched
him, and he felt as if henceforth he could live.
But to return to the conversation with which this chapter began, and
which took place in the Judge's room at the hotel, on the Sunday night
before the sitting of the court.
“How does that smart chap, Mobley, get on?”
“About like he was.”
“Knowing everything but law, I suppose, and knowing nothing
about that?”
“Just so. The fellow studies like rip; but, Judge, he don't study
right. He studies books instead of men.”
Mr. Sandidge delivered this sentiment with contemptuous pity.
“He thinks if we had a Supreme Court he would do something
grand.”
“He's for a Supreme Court, is he?” inquired the Judge, with a
frown.
“Warm, warm. Has been from the first.”
“It will be some time before he gets it, I'm thinking.”
“That's what I tell him.”
“Thank God, it's only these book-men that want a Supreme Court.
They don't know, Sandidge, they don't know anything outside of books.”
“Not the first thing. That's what I tell 'em.”
“They think that because such a pint has been decided such a way,
by such a judge, that it should be decided so always; and they are
forever and eternally talking about settling the law, settling the law —
like it was, Sandidge, just like it was so much coffee.”
Mr. Sandidge spat all over himself, wiped his mouth with his hand,
and came very near laughing outright.
“And I would like to know how, in the name of common sense, it
ever could get settled. There aint anything to settle it by. That's
the pint; there aint anything to settle it by.” He looked inquiringly
at Mr. Sandidge, and seemed to wish that gentleman to tell what there
was to settle it by if he knew of any such thing. The latter shook his
head.
“No sir! there aint nothing to settle it by; and when Mobley is
talking about what Lord Mansfield said, and what Lord Hardwick
said, or any of them old lords and judges, it's on the end of my tongue
to stop him, and tell him that they are all dead, and consequently can't
know anything about the case at bar. And, Sandidge, it always struck
me as very curious that the laws of England should be the laws of
Georgia.”
It was a remarkable coincidence that that idea had over and over
again struck Mr. Sandidge. He, however, hinted that in some cases
(and those were cases in his opinion when the authority happened to
be on his own side) the English law was very plain and directly in
point, and it ought to be followed.
“Certainly, certainly, in such cases; and I do follow it; but I am
the judge of that myself.”
Ah, yes, that was right! Now they were exactly agreed! The
judge, if he was judge, of course ought to be the judge. If he wasn't, of
course he couldn't be, which was absurd; and Mr. Sandidge almost
frowned in the effort of elaborating this reductio ad absurdum.
“Absurd! so I think; and Mobley and such as he may study
I shall sustain them; when I don't think so, I shall overrule them.
They may get their Supreme Court if they can. It aint going to be in
my day, thank God! If it was, I just know that I couldn't and wouldn't
stand it. Before I would have an overseer over me, and I Judge of
the Superior Court, and have to be eternally looking into old books to
find out what them old English lords and judges said a hundred years
ago, when the country wasn't like this, nor the people neither — why,
Sandidge, you know, I havn't got the books, and couldn't afford to buy
them — I say before I would be put to all the trouble and expense of
reading law and nothing else, and then have my decisions brought back
on me, and treated like I was — like I was in fact a nigger — I would
die first!”
Mr. Sandidge smiled approvingly.
“Why, who would respect me?”
“Nobody.”
“How could I enforce the authority of the Court?”
“Couldn't be done.”
“If I put a fellow in jail, just like as not they would take him out.”
“Like as not.”
“If I fined one, ten to one it wouldn't stick!”
“Just so. He wouldn't stay found.”
“If I refused to grant a new trial, knowing that I am against them,
they would send a paper ordering me to grant it! Don't you see they
would, knowing I am against 'em?”
“Plain as day. Send a paper ordering the Judge of the Superior
Court!”
“I tell you, Sandidge, before I would stand it I would die first!
In fact, I would RESIGN!!”
This was capping the climax. Dying would be a poor and very inadequate
resentment. He would go beyond that. He would voluntarily
and disgustedly let go his hold upon power. The consequences
might be what they pleased, he would resign. “I tell you, Sandidge,”
he repeated once more, with fearful emphasis, “I should RESIGN!!”
“Oh my conscience, Judge, don't! don't! What would become of
the country if you were to resign?”
Mr. Sandidge, although purposing to appear alarmed, smiled notwithstanding;
and perhaps the more because he thought such a deplorable
event not very likely to come to pass; and perhaps yet more,
console himself in the midst of his own losses and grief as well as he
could by replacing the extra interest upon the fi-fa not yet paid off
and discharged.
“And what will you leading lawyers do when young men, smart
young men like Mobley, go before the Supreme Court with books in
their hands and turn you down?”
“I shan't live to see it.” And it was doubtless the prospect of a far
distant organisation of such a tribunal, rather than of his own early
decease, which gave the gratified and complacent expression to that
smiling countenance.
4. CHAPTER IV.
A sly tap at the door.
“Come in.”
The door slyly opened, and a short, shaggy individual entered.
“How do you do, Jedge Mike?” This was uttered in a whining
but conciliating tone, and after first a low bow, then a sudden lifting up.
“Why, Sanks, how are you? Take a seat, take a seat.”
Mr. Sanks took a seat, after being assured that he was not `a intrudin'.'
“Busy as I war, Sunday night as it air, with a fixin' of all my
papers — and — dockiments as it war, I must, I must, positively I must
come by for a minnit, ef jes to tell the Jedge how'd-ye and to ax about
his health and the likewise health of his family. I also likewise air
glad to see Mr. Sandidge a lookin' so well, and as it war ready for the
cote.”
Mr. John Sanks was the sheriff. Two years ago he had beaten
Mr. Triplet, an elderly man and an old inhabitant of Dukesborough,
in the race for the sheriffalty. A poor fellow was Sanks; but having
got into office by a trick, he had hopes of a long and prosperous official
career. Like the Judge, he owed his greatness to Mr. Sandidge, and
therefore belonged to him. Such a sheriff as he was a valuable piece
of property to such a lawyer. But then Mr. Sandidge was a kind
master, and had never put upon his man a service which the latter
was not fully willing to perform. Then he got his pay in many ways
besides in being elevated to the great office of keeper of the county.
But oh, how glad Mr. Sanks was to see his Honor! and not only so,
but also likewise to see him lookin' so well. Mr. Sanks called Mr.
Sandidge's attention to the glorious fact that the Judge got younger
and younger every court.
“And I am glad to see you too, Sanks. You look, Sanks, you look
right well yourself. All's well, I hope. Everything ready for court —
eh, Sanks?”
“Oh yes, sir. People seems to 'spect a oncommon interestin' cote.
Thar's a power o' business — dockets is right heavy.”
“How are you up with your matters, Sanks? No money rules this
term, I hope?”
Mr. Sanks looked a little timidly at Mr. Sandidge, who answered
for him.
“Oh, you are safe in that matter, aint you, Sanks? Oh yes, Judge,
I think so. As a general thing Sanks keeps up with them things.”
Mr. S. never wore a prettier smile.
“Ah!” put in Mr. Sanks, reassured. “As long as things is as they
air now, I can git along reasonable well. Tryin' to be 'onest myself,
havin' of a 'onest counsellor, and also likewise havin' of a 'onest judge,
I can git along farly as things is; that is, ef they don't git changed.”
Mr. Sanks looked suspicious.
“Things get changed? What do you mean?” inquired the Judge.
“Well,” continued Mr. Sanks, in a mournful voice, “some people
looks as ef they can't be satisfied with things as they is, and wants 'em
defferent. Some wants defferent lawyers, and also likewise some goes
so fur as to say they wants defferent jedges.” And Mr. Sanks did look
so sad in the contemplation of the unreasonableness of the world.
“Wants different judges, eh?” His Honor's expression was one of
contempt, not unmixed with anger and apprehension.
“Well, now, they aint no great numbers of people o' that sort in the
county. It's mostly with them people down about Dukesborough, whar
old Triplet lives. Them Dukesborough people has jest run mad about
Dukesborough, and also likewise thinks it's a bigger place than this
here county-seat. They goes so fur sometimes as to say that the Cotehouse
ought to be moved thar. After a while they'll be thinkin' it'll
be as big as Augusty.” Mr. Sanks laughed immoderately, but not
loudly; and as Mr. Sandidge smiled, he looked grateful and kept on
laughing. The Judge could not see the joke, and Mr. Sanks grew
serious again.
“Yes, it's the Dukesborough people. Don't you see, Jedge, and
also likewise you, Mr. Sandidge, I beat old Triplet for sheriff. John
Sanks air known to be for Jedge Mike for jedge at next election above
and agin — the multiplied world!” It was terrible to witness the
violence with which this defiant conclusion was uttered. The multiplied
world might have been there and welcome to hear it.
“Yes, sir, above and agin the multiplied world! And then you see,
Jedge, thar's that young fellow, Mobley. The Dukesborough people's
proud of him. He was raised thar, you know; and also likewise they
goes on to say that he air a bigger man than what even Mr. Sandidge
air, or leastways he air goin' to be, and that in short. Then agin, this
fellow have been puttin' in their heads that we ought to have a new
jedge, and he also likewise air been talkin' about another sort of a cote
that can sas sarire proceedances and carry cases yit higher. But I tells
'em they better be satisfied with things as they air; and so likewise
they're agin me at my next election, and swear they intend to beat me
with old Triplet yit. I don't keer about thar threats about what they
can do to me. Yit I hates to lose my office jest for bein' of a friend
to things as they is. It war no longer than last night I told my wife,
says I, Sylvy, says I, I don't keer so much about the office myself, says
I, but because also likewise I know it air mostly aimed and pinted,
says I, at Jedge Mike and Mr. Sandidge, says I, which is my friends,
and which I would go fur all things above and agin, says I, the multiplied
world, says I. Them's the very words I said to Sylvy, no longer
than last night.”
The artful fellow knew well how to strengthen both himself and
Sandidge with the Judge. The lawyer smiled with sincere pleasure
at the sight of the increased prejudice of Judge Mike against Mr.
Mobley, whom, as we shall see, he had some reason to respect more
highly than he pretended. Mr. Sandidge admitted that the pernicious
ideas of Mr. Mobley had somewhat infected the Dukesborough people;
that is, not all — some of them; he, Mr. Sandidge, had some clients
among the Dukesborough people, and he was pretty sure that they were
right on the judge question. Still, there was a considerable sprinkling
(as he expressed it) of Dukesborough people in favor of some changes.
When the visitors had retired, the Judge sat for a long time looking
gloomily into the fire. “That's the way,” he muttered at length.
“They go to their colleges, learn their Latin and their Greek and their
Algebry, and then git above their sizes, and come home and git impudent
do it. I mean to — sq-uelch 'em.” And then his Honor went to bed.
Thereupon Messrs. Sandidge and Sanks had some confidential chat
before separating for the night. Among other things the sheriff ascertained
that the lawyer would like to avoid the trial of the Rickles case at
this term of the court. Mr. Sandidge on the other hand was made acquainted
with the fact that that young fellow, Mobley, would probably
apply for a money rule against Mr. Sanks, for which the latter feared
he could not make a satisfactory showing, and which also likewise he
would probably need — leastways — oh, cert'inly, cert'inly — providin'
— ahem! Mr. Sanks never had communicated important information
more delicately.
The night was cloudy, though it was the season of the full moon.
The latter shone suddenly as they stopped at the corner where they
were to separate. The lawyer looked down for a moment upon the
sheriff, and the sheriff looked up to the lawyer, and the white moon
looked upon both. It seemed a poor sight for all; so the moon retired,
and each of the other two slunk away to his home.
5. CHAPTER V.
Mr. Overton attended the court, and by the assistance of Mr.
Mobley, obtained a seat within the bar. He had been introduced
to several lawyers from different counties, and to the Judge. He could
but remark the immense distance between the latter and several of the
former, who were men of decided ability. A certain becoming respect
was paid by them to the dignitary, not only in the Court-house, but at
the hotel, where the best seat, both in the lawyers' room and at the
dinner-table, was reserved for him always. This treatment was received
in a way which denoted both pleasure that it could not be avoided, as
he thought, and a sullenness from the reflection that it was rendered
entirely to his office and not to himself. Upon the introduction of the
young man to him, after scanning him closely and rudely for a moment,
he made an ungainly attempt to congratulate him upon his expected
accession to the Bar. Mr. Mobley was heard to speak of his new
acquaintance as a youth of talent and education. Then Mr. Sandidge,
who sat by the Judge (it was at the hotel), whispered:
“Them's the sort that always wants the Supreme Court.”
Judge Mike scowled at the new-comer, and afterwards took no further
notice of him.
During the week one could not avoid noticing how much of an art
it was to conciliate and control the Court. Mr. Sandidge was the
favorite. Everybody knew that; none better than Mr. Sandidge himself,
who had foreseen and foreordained it. Now of all positions in a
free government, the one where favoritism was most worth having, was
that of a poet of a Circuit Judge in those times. When the fortunes of
men, their security, and even their lives were dependent upon the will of
an individual, and he amenable to no earthly tribunal for whatever errors
he might commit, or even for wilful injustice, except upon principles the
most vague and uncertain, it was an art ranking almost as high as the
science of the law itself, and attainable by greater cost and sacrifice,
to obtain an easy access to the ear of that most important depositary
of power. It was the fortunate accident of our ancient judiciary
system that there was a goodly number of virtuous and able men
upon the Bench: for neither virtue nor a very considerable amount of
talent seemed to be essential qualifications. If the incumbent for the
time possessed them, very well: if not, then not so well, but well enough.
Judge Mike in the matter of virtue was neither good nor very bad.
If he was below the capacity to feel or to understand a noble impulse,
he was probably above the perpetration of an act of plain judicial
dishonesty. He was a considerably better man than Sandidge. Indeed
he might be said to maintain in this respect a sort of middle place
between high and low, but tending downwards. Fortunately for some,
unfortunately for others, he was not brave. Now, of all official personages,
cowards are the most troublesome and oppressive. They are
troublesome to those of whom they are afraid, and oppressive to those
who are afraid of them: troublesome to the former by inflicting petty
annoyances in the use of small advantages and the punishment of
unimportant lapses, on account of the remembrance and the resentment
they feel towards them; and oppressive to the latter in order
to preserve the equilibrium between the feeling and the excitement of
fear. These infirmities are not peculiar to official, nor even to human
cowards. For indeed, I remember well to have been much amused,
many years ago, by a cur who had been badly bitten and conquered
by another. As soon as he was disengaged from his adversary, and,
with his tail bent between his hind legs, was making his way home with
designated amongst the Southern people as fice. The little fellow came
trotting down the street in innocent gayety, and I thought then and
think now that I had never seen an individual of his species less
expectant both of doing and especially of suffering wrong. Yet so it
was, that the cur rushed furiously upon him without any known justifiable
cause, and even, as I suspected, without any previous acquaintance;
and then he shook him until he was beaten off with rods. After
he had gotten out of the reach of these he went on his way leisurely,
apparently satisfied that he was again even with the world. And
then, notwithstanding the little beast made, as I considered, rather
more ado and for a longer time than was at all necessary, and notwithstanding
he was a very useless creature, yet I could but pity him
and at the same time be amused, because he seemed to have so thorough
a sense of having been made to suffer without the slightest provocation.
But to return to the Judge. Mr. Sandidge was the favorite. Judge
Mike liked Mr. Sandidge; not only for past favors of the kind we
know of, but for another reason. He considered Mr. Sandidge as a
man like himself, and about of his quality. He liked to see such a
man succeed if anybody must succeed. He felt that he did honor to
himself in thus honoring his image, as it were. Mr. Sandidge made
no great pretension to a knowledge of books, and he thanked him for
that. Mr. Sandidge never so much as hinted about a Supreme Court,
but seemed to be, as in fact he was, satisfied with the present ways of
administering justice. Such being the relations between them, Mr.
Sandidge was lucky in getting rulings in his favor. He was, indeed, a
much better lawyer than the Judge, and shrewd enough to beguile him
of many a wrong decision, even had the latter been indifferent to him.
But notwithstanding this favoritism, there were two or three lawyers
of real, and even of first-rate ability, who, in spite of their contempt
for him and his dislike of them, exerted over him that influence which
a strong and bold intellect must always have over a weak and timid
one. Above flattering him, they often, and even against Sandidge,
obtained rulings of doubtful right, when he was unable, both from his
dread of them, and from his confused senses, to resist them. But to
compensate Mr. Sandidge for this, and as if to preserve his own
regard for himself, he eagerly sought for opportunities to help him
in taking advantage of oversights in pleadings and in proof; oversights
which Mr. Sandidge himself never committed, and never failed to
to domineer to any extent over the younger lawyers. These stood in
great awe of the Bench. They could neither cajole nor browbeat.
Even a respectful remonstrance from them was usually followed by a
fine, or a threat of it. They therefore timidly went about their business
in the Court, hoping for the advent of the time when they could be
browbeaters or Sandidges.
Like most small-minded men who go upon the Bench, Judge Mike
set himself up as a great reformer of abuses. He was a terror to evildoers,
especially to those who did it on a small scale. Before great
criminals, who had the great lawyers for their advocates, he was wont
sometimes to be quite moderate; but whenever he got a chance at
petty offenders, he would stick the law on to them (to use his own
phrase) up to the very hub. There were two vices in particular which
he hated cordially. These were fighting and usury. Whenever he
could get a blow at either of these, he struck with all his official
might. On the third day of the term, when a man was tried and convicted
of giving a moderate drubbing to a scoundrel who had used
insulting language to his wife, he imposed a fine so heavy that the
defendant, not being able to raise the money, was forced to lie in jail
for many weeks. It was a great recommendation to the prosecutor
that he was known to be one who had been whipped several times for
sundry rascalities.
Mr. Sandidge well knew the Judge's weakness on the subject of
usury, and ever since his elevation had been confining his financial
operations to shaving paper, or so wording usurious contracts as to
render their proof exceedingly difficult. Then he was lucky enough
to make more money from such transactions than ever before; for
now, almost by the invitation of the presiding Judge, the pleading of
usury became frequent, and there was no lawyer to be compared with
Mr. Sandidge in ferreting testimony in its proof.
Of the younger lawyers, Mr. Mobley was an exception to being
in fear of the Judge. He was usually much embarrassed in the
conduct of cases merely from his want of familiarity with precedents
and forms. Here was Mr. Sandidge's forte. He understood pleadings
thoroughly, and it was his delight to pick flaws in his adversary's
papers and drive him out of Court. Mr. Mobley dreaded both the
Court and its favorite on this ground; but otherwise he was insensible
to fear.
But the people: they felt the weight of this power, and they should
feel it. All absences of witnesses and jurors, all noises in the Court-room
and Court-yard, all misdemeanors of all sorts, met with ready
and condign punishment; always more condign when their convictions
came on shortly after a series of browbeatings from those whom he could
not frighten. These had been more frequent than usual during the week
from one and another cause. He had reached to Thursday afternoon,
and was engaged in a peculiarly perplexing case, when an incident
occurred which would seem to be rather singular for a Court of
Justice.
A man in the crowd outside of the bar having a cold, blew his
noise — an action natural and even frequently necessary to a man with
that ailment. The action in this case was accompanied by the usual
loudness of sound produced by those who have uncommonly good
lungs; so loud indeed that several members of the Bar, with amused
countenances, looked in the direction from which it proceeded. The
Judge became thoroughly fierce in an instant; and he needed a
diversion from the lawyer who had been goading him, to a less formidable
adversary.
“Stop this case a minute. Mr. Sheriff, bring that nose-blower inside
of this bar.”
Mr. Sanks obeyed with alacrity, and went to the culprit, laying his
hand rudely upon him.
“Look ye here, John Sanks, what do you want with me?” the man
said, in a subdued tone, for he had not heard the Judge's order.
“Well, now,” answered Sanks, loudly, “you jest better come along,
and also likewise you better come quick!”
“I have yit to see the man,” began the gentleman with the cold.
But a bystander having whispered to him that the Judge had sent for
him, he went in at once. Perhaps it was fortunate that his words had
not reached the Bench.
“I wish to know, sir, if this Court-house is a stable, sir, that you
must bray in it like a jackass.” The man seemed greatly surprised by
the question, but answered it respectfully and candidly in the negative.
“What do you bray in it for then, sir?”
The poor fellow was now becoming confused and alarmed. He
said nothing at first, but looked around and seemed to be trying to
make out how it was that he should be there.
“Do you hear, sir?” roared the Judge; “what are you braying here
for, sir?”
“Why, Jedge, I aint been a brayin'.”
“What, sir?”
“I said I didn't br — Oh! — leastways I didn't know that I was a
brayin'. I jest blowed — Oh! — leastways I thought I jest blowed my
nose, havin' of a bad cold.”
“What are you doing here anyway, sir?”
“Why, Jedge, I jest come to Cote.”
“Got any business here?”
“No, sir. Leastways I haint got no particklar business.”
“What did you come here for then, sir?”
“Why, I thought, Jedge, that everybody was liable to come to Cote.”
“Liable! LIABLE! Yes, and so they are. And you will find that
they are liable to behave themselves; and if they don't, that they are
liable to be fined. What is your name, sir?”
“Allen Thigpen, sir.”
“Thigpen! Thigpen! I might have known that anybody with
that name couldn't tell a Court-room from a stable. And whereabouts
do you live?”
This question seemed to relieve Allen of a portion of his apprehension;
for he was proud of the location of his home. So he
answered, almost with dignity:
“Why, Jedge, I live mighty nigh too Dukesborough, on the big,
plain, straightforrard road from Dukesborough to Augusty. Yes, sir,
that's right whar I live, shore.” And Allen looked as if he thought
that if any fact could save him, it was that of his residence.
“Dukesborough, eh? De-ukesborough! A big place is Dukesborough.
But I must let the Dukesborough people know that it aint
quite big enough for them to run over me. Mr. Thigpen, you of the
great town of Dukesborough, you are fined in the sum of two dollars.”
The Judge turned from him, and ordered the parties to proceed with
the cause. Allen in the meanwhile ran his hand into his pocket, and
withdrawing an old buckskin purse, emptied its contents into the other
hand, and counting the pieces with a rueful face, walked up two or
three steps and extended them to the Judge.
“Jedge,” said he, “dollar one and nine is the highth of my ambition,
ef I was goin' to be hung. But, Jedge, ef you will trust me, I'll
pay you the other half and seven-pence as shore as my name is
Thig — that is as — ah! — oh!”—
But Allen could not finish it. Whether from looking upward at so
say; but as his Honor was gazing upon the extended hand in ludicrous
surprise and wrath, Allen felt a sudden impulse to sneeze — an impulse
which, whenever it comes, it court-rooms or elsewhere, must be obeyed.
No human being ever could have made greater efforts to suppress it;
and as is usual in such cases, its victory was only the more triumphant,
and violent, and disastrous.
“Oh, Jedge! Lord 'a mercy!”—
In his terror, and endeavoring to assure the Judge that he was doing
his best, he could not avert his eyes from him. His face assumed the
agonized contortions of a maniac, his great chest heaved like a
mountain in labor, and he uttered a shriek which, in any circumstances
but those that plainly showed that nothing uncommonly serious was
the matter, would have filled all within a circle of two hundred yards
diameter with consternation. In the violence of the paroxysm the coin
flew up from his hand as if they had been discharged from a catapult,
and coming down, several of them fell upon the Judge's head and
rolled into his lap. An instantaneous roar of laughter followed this
explosion, but was as instantly hushed. No words could depict the
expressions upon the faces of the two prominent actors. The Judge
had been lifted out of his chair, and there the two stood glaring at
each other, speechless. His Honor snatched up the docket with the
evident intention of knocking Mr. Thigpen down. Mr. Thigpen looked
at it beseechingly, as much as to say, “Knock me down in welcome, but
please don't hang me.” Thus they were for a quarter of a minute;
then the Judge, feeling doubtless that neither the penal code nor the
Court's discretion was adequate to punish the outrage as it deserved,
said almost in a whisper, as the offender stood now with both hands
extended and his face yet contorted and unwiped:
“For God's sake, be off from here, you cussed fool, and never let me
see you again in this world!”
Allen picked up his hat.
“I'm mighty much obleeged to you, Jedge. Far you well, Jedge,”
and then he hurried away. It was well that he did; for the Judge was
well-nigh committing him for what he would have considered a contempt,
his thus bidding him adieu.
A crowd followed him, and were roaring with laughter as soon as
they had gotten fairly without hearing of the Court.
“How did you feel, Allen?”
“Feel?” replied Allen; “I didn't have no feelins to feel with.
They was all scared out o' me. Je-rusalem! wan't the old man hot,
and aint he brash with people that's got colds?”
“He called you names, eh, Allen?”
“He did that, and when he looked so vi-grous at me, and called me
a jackass, ding my skin ef I war exactly certin whether I war one or
not.”
“But what made you carry him the money?”
“Carry him the money? Why, wan't that right? He found me.
I thought the money was his'n. I 'lowed that was the way he got his
livin'.”
They whooped.
“But what made you tell him farwell? If you hadn't come out so
quick after that, he would have had you again.”
“What? Why he told me to be off, and I war off, and as I spozened
that I mout never see him no more, I thought I ought to bid him farwell.
Well, it doo beat! It did look like I ought to be perlite; but
sich it is. Tryin' to brace myself agin onpoliteness, it seem like
I were mighty nigh bustin' on tother.”
“Well, gentle-men,” he continued, after they had somewhat subsided,
“I say, gentle-men! Thar's two things in this country that I am agin:
and them's schools and cote-houses. When I war standin' thar before
him, and he war talkin' about jackasses, and brayin' and all sich, ef
my feelins hadn't been all skeerd out o' me, and ef I had of had my
jedgment about me, I should a felt like little Asa Boatright and Sam
Pate used to look like they felt when Iserl Meadows told 'em to go
to horsin': and I did hope and did cal'clate never to have them feelins
endurin' o' my nat'ral life. Howbesomever, that aint neither here nor
thar now. Gentlemen, I never seed a man before that I was afeerd of.
I thought everybody was liable to come to Cote: but I comes no
more without I'm fotch. It 'pears like, as the old sayin' goes, that
he neither likes my name nor my nation. When I sneezed — and I
tell you, gentle-men, I couldn't a helped it ef the gallis had been right
afore me — when I sneezed, says I to myself — gone! But ding my
skin, ef I don't believe that's what saved me. I tell you, gentle-men,
I'm agin 'em; and now I goes home. So far you well.”
So Mr. Thigpen left. Many, many times after that day, yea even
down to old age, he was heard to say that he had “never seed but one
man that he was afeerd of, and that was the Jedge — old Jedge Mike
as used to be.”
6. CHAPTER VI.
“Strain vs. Rickles.”
It was now Friday morning. Judge Mike was weary with the session,
and fretful from repeated wranglings with several leading lawyers.
These had now all gone, the great cases having been either tried or
continued. He had announced his determination to adjourn early
that afternoon, whether the dockets were finished or not. The Court
had not seen its family in two weeks, and it must and would see its
family by to-morrow night. Mr. Sandidge was in the enjoyment of
mild happiness; not only from the remembrance of having had a good
run of luck during the week, but because the Judge was in a hurry, and
the case of Strain vs. Rickles was yet untried. He wished it continued;
for he was of counsel for the defendant, and they had no just defence.
Mr. Mobley, though he had appeared but few times, was sore from
more than one insult from the Bench.
“Strain vs. Rickles,” called the Judge, rapidly and fretfully, with
pen in hand, as if to say that this cae was expected to follow the fate
of the half-dozen preceding, and be disposed of summarily.
“Ready for the plaintiff,” announced Mr. Mobley.
The Judge dropped his pen, leaned back in his chair, and cast a
threatening look at the counsel. It did not seem to produce the effect
desired. Mr. Mobley looked at him steadily.
Mr. Sandidge would remark that that was a case in which some
pints of law were involved; and as the Court had not seen its family
in two weeks, and as it was anxious to adjourn itself, and to go home
and to see its family, he therefore would suggest that, if the counsel
was willing, it might be continued generally until the next term. Mr.
Mobley, objecting to this disposition, Mr. Sandidge, after having a
witness called and receiving no answer, proceeded to make a showing
for a continuance by the defendant. This was the absence of a witness
who, as he had been informed, knew all about the case from beginning
to end. Mr. Mobley had begun to argue the insufficiency of the
showing for its indefiniteness, when his client, Strain, informed him
that he had just seen the witness, who had heard the sheriff's call, and
had answered to a bystander, who asked him why he did not obey it,
“It's nobody but Mr. Sandidge, and I know what he wants.” Mr.
Mobley made this fact known to the Court. Mr. Sandidge seemed a
little confused by this accident, until Sanks whispered in his ear:
“You needn't be afeerd o' that jury. There's two men on it which
they knows me, and which also likewise I knows them.”
The Judge hesitated. Mr. Sandidge, foreseeing the effect upon both
of an exposure of what was the fact, that he had instructed the witness
not to obey the call, withdrew his motion.
“I do this, may it please your Honor, not from anything my brother
Mobley has said in his argument, nor from his insinuations, and so
forth, and so forth. The showing is a sufficient one; but I'll waive it,
I'll waive it, sir.”
And Mr. Sandidge gave such a mighty sweep with his long arm that
Mr. Sanks had to dodge in order to prevent his hat being knocked off.
Yet that official seemed greatly to admire the action, and also likewise
sat down in a chair and giggled.
“Yes, sir,” continued Mr. Sandidge, “I'll waive it, and I think I am
prepared — I say, I think I'm prepared” (noticing the dissatisfaction of
the Court with the direction the matter was taking) “to end this case in
short order. The defendant is ready.”
The jury were in the box. Mr. Mobley proceeded with his case. It
was a simple action upon a promissory note given by the defendant to
the plaintiff, who was a merchant from Augusta. He read the declaration,
exhibited the note, and closed.
Mr. Sandidge rose, and with a smile which was meant to assure all
present that he was expecting a speedy triumph, remarked that this
was a case which he apprehended would not long be occupying the
time of the Court and time of the country. He then announced to Mr.
Mobley, that upon consulting with his client he had just discovered
that the consideration of the note sued on was usurious, and that his
conclusion being to rely on that defence solely, he should be compelled
to ask for time in order to make out the plea, unless counsel would
agree to consider it in already. Mr. Mobley, turning to his client,
who assured him that it was false, allowed him to proceed.
A witness, the same who had been called, and who was sent for
privately by Mr. Sandidge, went to the stand. After the usual preliminary
that he did not in particular charge his mind, not expecting
to be called on, he did testify that he was present at the giving of the
note, and that he heard the parties say that it was in settlement of
accounts of three or four years' standing, which the plaintiff held
against the defendant. In answer to a question from Mr. Mobley if
anything was said about extra interest, the witness declared that he did
None but Mr. Sandidge would have seen any advantage to be obtained
from such testimony. But he looked most gratefully at the witness,
expressed himself fully satisfied, dismissed him, smiled benignly on
the jury, compassionately on Mr. Mobley, then sat down with the air
of a man who had satisfactorily finished one piece of business and
after a little rest would be ready for another.
Plaintiff's counsel looked at the Judge with an expression which
seemed to say, “Surely no fool, not even you, would admit such testimony.”
The Judge looked at him, and his expression seemed to ask,
“What do you say to that, Mr. Mobley?” The latter avowed his
belief that in all judicial history a thing so absurd had never been
proposed, and he moved to be allowed to take his verdict. Mr. Sandidge
began at once to argue the law point, and was proceeding to say
that in all his recollection, in a practice of twenty-five years and better,
he had never seen a case where interest could be collected on open
accounts. “But, may it please your Honor, the plaintiff in this case —
and these Augusty merchants”—
“Go on to the jury!” thundered the Judge.
Mr. Sandidge bowed, and turned to the panel. “Gentlemen of the
jury, these Augusty merchants as a general thing always know what
they are about. I say always — not a single exception;” and he
bestowed on the plaintiff a look fully significant of his admission that
he was entitled to his share of the encomium thus passed upon the
class of which he was an individual.
“These Augusty merchants know more in an hour about some things
than we plain country-people know in a week. And it is reasonable
to suppose that they do, and that's because they are Augusty
merchants.” Then Mr. Sandidge took a big smile and a small drink
of water, and oh how cunning he did look as his eyes peered over the
tumbler at the jury.
“Why, gentlemen, what chance have we got, away off here in the
country, to keep up along with them Augusty merchants? We don't
have the boats, and the power of the wagons, and the thousands of
cotton-bags, and tobacco-hogsheads, and the fine brick war-houses,
and the hardwar-stores, and the other stores that always keeps full of
one particlar kind of goods, and sometimes more in one of 'em there
than there is in every store in this here town — yes, and them in Dukesborough
put together. Why, gentlemen, if Tommy Rickles was to go
you may tell from Tommy Rickles' looks and from this case that he's
never been to Augusty. But if he was to go there, and was to want
to buy a dog-knife for his little boy, Tommy Rickles would just as apt
to go into a store that had nothing but calico and dry-goods; and
when they laughed and told him they was jest out of knives, he might
go to a hat-store, and then into a shoe-store, and then into a candy-store
— yes, gentlemen, into a store that the shelves was farly linded
with jars of candy and nothing but candy. And so it might be an
hour before he got to a hardwar-store and found a dog-knife for his
little boy; and then ten to one Tommy Rickles couldn't find his way
back to his wagon.”
Oh how Mr. John Sanks did laugh at Tommy during this harangue!
not loudly, but heartily and good-humoredly. And then how innocent
and pitiful Tommy did look, and how ashamed of his ignorance! The
jury smiled approvingly with Mr. Sanks; but Tommy looked so bashful
and bad that they got sorry for him and quit smiling.
“I say, gentlemen of the jury,” continued Mr. Sandidge, “we don't
know anything at all to compare with these Augusty merchants. But
still there are some things that we do know, if we do live here in the
country where there aint any boats, and hat-stores and candy-stores
and hardwar-stores; and one of them things is that you ce-ant collect
interest on open accounts. We all know that — that is, all except
Tommy Rickles.”
General laughter, notwithstanding that Tommy looked still more
pitiful. Mr. Sanks winked at the two jurymen which he knew and
which also likewise knew him. Mr. Mobley noticed this action, but
perhaps he did not mind it.
“And, gentlemen, Tommy Rickles knew it too, if he had thought
about it and hadn't been with a Augusty merchant, and hadn't been
thinking of the boats, and the power of the wagons, and the hat-stores
and the shoe-stores and the candy-stores and the hardwar-stores, and
got his senses all mixed up, and confused up, and muddled up together,
as it war.”
Continued laughter, several of the jury appearing to be fully satisfied.
The Judge waxing stern at the disorder, Mr. Sandidge had to moderate
his humor, and concluded by arguing, as heatedly and seriously as he
could, that interest not being collectible on open accounts, even the
defendant ought not to have included it in the note, and that therefore
not to take up the time of the Court and the time of the country by
arguing so plain a case, he sat down, his countenance expressing both
a virtuous indignation at a great wrong which was attempted, and a
proud satisfaction that it could not be done over his shoulders.
Mr. Mobley felt, that with all the prejudices of the Judge against
himself and his weakness on the subject of usury, he was in some
danger of losing his case. He spoke with great energy on the
absurdity of the defendant's plea, and of its plain dishonesty. In the
midst of his argument, Mr. Sandidge flippantly asked him for his
authorities. This was done of course to embarrass him, as he would
have been forced to admit that there was no authority on such a point.
But he had now gotten too high to be reached by Mr. Sandidge.
“I am asked,” he said, “for the production of authority that the
giving a promissory note in liquidation of a just debt is not usurious.
I am thus asked by a lawyer of twenty-five years' practice — a lawyer
who is old enough and prominent enough to be what it behooves every
lawyer to be, a conservator of public tranquillity and private integrity —
one who, with all his boasted contempt of legal precedents and his
real ignorance of them, yet knows full well that in no Court of Justice,
even the most insignificant, was this question, or any other one so
absurd as this, ever raised; and whose only reason for raising it at this
time was his knowledge of the existence of dishonest habits and unreasonable
prejudices which, as a leading citizen, he ought to be one
of the last to encourage. Violent as the presumption often is, and far
from the very semblance of truth, it is nevertheless a presumption
that Judges know the laws; and it ought to be the habit of attorneys
and solicitors, especially those of experience and influence, to refrain
from raising questions, a moment's entertainment of which by any
Court is sufficient to deprive it of the respect of all men. But it has
remained for this day to witness that the highest Court in one of the
sovereign States of this Confederacy shall be insulted in its dignity
and majesty by a course of conduct which seems to have been designedly
pursued in order to test the sanity of that Court's presiding officer.
Assuredly to no other mind than to that of the counsel had it been
possible to fail to occur, that an insignificant advantage in a suit at
law was scarcely worth the having when it was to be gained in a way
which, to say nothing of its influence upon his client, would establish
either the stultification of the Court, or” (and he looked fixedly and
infirmity. Even if he should consider himself as so great a friend to
the Court, whether from past favors or present adulation, or from any
other cause, as to think himself entitled to the exalted privilege of
being its favorite, one would have supposed that, if for no other
reason, at least from motives of prudence and decency, he would have
confined his conduct within that sphere where there would have been
left at least a doubt as to what judgment that conduct ought to receive.
It is a duty which we owe even to our private friends not to demand
a service of which there can be found no reason but friendship to
justify the rendering, while every other reason but friendship would
demand its refusal. There are some services which no ardor of
friendship is adequate to procure — some indeed which a proper and
worthy friendship would be the last to exact.”
A large crowd had gathered into the Court-room, attracted by the
vehemence of the young lawyer's declamation. He was an eloquent
speaker, and his speech was telling upon the bystanders. He saw it,
and it stimulated him to continually increasing endeavor.
“There is a vulgar maxim that there is nothing to be lost by the
asking of favors. The counsel has long and well learned how to
profit by it. His successful experience in this respect, while it reflects
no great honor upon his sincerity, or even upon his ingenuity, pays a
consideration to the source from which these favors flow, which it is
impossible to be considered as in the smallest degree respectful. I
warn him this day of the necessity to beware how he abuses an influence
which his every action shows that he is conscious of exerting.
“There is a decorum which men, even of the greatest ability, when
in the enjoyment of honors, even those the most fairly won, cannot
neglect with impunity. Let him, then, especially beware, the success
of whose career is mainly dependent upon favor. For granting that
the power which, strange as it is, he may truly think that he has immeasurably
above others succeeded in conciliating and controlling, is
absolute and unlimited, yet when it shall at last of all others become
convinced that such a control is no longer compatible, not only with
the appearance of respectability, but even with its own security, and
shall, as it assuredly will, withdraw from him the favor in which he
seems to live, and move, and have his being, he must then know how
vain will be the late pursuit of those other and higher means of success
which it has been his constant habit to neglect. And even if this
of and to resist a control which binds it like the spell of the charmer,
surely, in a country so free and so humane in all its institutions except
its Courts of Justice, in a country where there are so many good and
brave men — men who have been good enough and brave enough to
resist and to destroy every other form of tyranny, it is not too much to
expect that the time must come, and come soon, when this last form
must yield to the necessities of an advancing civilisation, and follow
the fate of those which have gone before it. Surely, surely, it cannot
long remain that a free people, who have broken the last shackle of
political despotism, must continue to bow in abject submission before
another which is the more odious because their own hands have
created it, and because their own hands may peaceably destroy it.”
Mr. Mobley spoke for half-an-hour in this strain, during many parts
of which, Mr. Sandidge, smiling as he was, was rather piteous to be
seen; and when he spoke of the merits of the plea itself, Tommy
Rickles, but that he had the great Mr. Sandidge for his friend, would
have felt as if he ought to be in the Penitentiary.
In the midst of this harangue, one of the jury, a Sanks and Sandidge
man, rose up and hastily rushed out of the box. Upon being caught
and brought back, he was asked by the Judge why he had left his seat.
The man, looking timidly at Mr. Sanks, answered:
“Ef it mout please the Cote, I had heerd Mr. Sandidge speak and
made up my mind, and when that youngster was a speakin' I didn't
like the way the argiment was a gwine, and my idees got confusid, and
so I thought I better leave.”
The Judge sternly informed him that his ideas must be controlled
by the Court, and that in future he would do well to remain in the box.
Mr. Sanks also gave him a look which seemed to nail him to his seat.
Mr. Mobley caught up his Honor at this juncture, and had much to
say about the rights both of juries and counsel. Besides, he cut Mr.
Sanks without mercy, whose secret meddling with the jury he had
noticed. The Judge, although he saw that Mobley was quite superior
to what he supposed, yet felt that he must do something in order to
restrain him. Several times he had been upon the point of fining him;
but he seemed to be waiting for the most favorable opportunity. Mr.
Mobley called for the Digest of the laws of the State, and was proceeding
to read upon the subject of Usury. Judge Mike, who had now
lost all patience, ordered him to put down the book, and declared that
he should pay no regard to whatever he might read.
The young man shut the book at once, and abandoning himself to
his rage, exclaimed:
“Then must the laws of Georgia lie prostrate at the feet of a Nisi-Prius
Judge, because there is no higher tribunal to correct his follies or
restrain his audacity!” And lifting the book with both hands high
above his head, he brought it down upon the clerk's desk with a
vehemence which made that official rise suddenly from his seat and
retreat to the farthest corner of the bar.
“Mr. Sheriff, arrest that man!” roared Judge Mike, and he seized
his pen to make out the order. Mr. Sanks arose and approached the
counsel. The latter raised his left hand and turned the palm towards
him with a warning gesture, when the sheriff hesitated a moment and
then retreated behind Mr. Sandidge. Then turning to the Judge, Mr.
Mobley said, almost in a whisper:
“Behold!”
The Judge paused in his writing and looked at him. His hair
stood almost upright; his color was that of the dead; and looking
alternately at the Judge and the sheriff, his eyes rolled and burned like
the chafed lion's, as lifting his right arm above his head, he said:
“There are some things which, in so far as I am concerned, even a
Judge of the Superior Court and his most servile minister would do
well to hesitate before they attempt to perform.”
The poor creature sank back in his chair, and bowed his head in
the unutterable anguish of feeling that a mere boy, whom he had unjustly
assaulted, had turned upon him and vanquished him in his own
castle.
Mr. Mobley sat down. His Honor had determined to charge the
jury in favor of the defendant. For he desired to uproot in his circuit
not only usury, but everything that looked at all like it. Indeed, all
rates of interest in his eyes seemed criminal, and therefore usurious.
He honestly believed that there was no evil under the sun to be compared
with it. Some wag had told him that it was interest that had
overthrown the great Roman Empire, and that it was once sold under
execution by the sheriff. So a transaction had but to look in the
slightest degree usurious, and it would have his condemnation. He
intended so to charge in this case; but now he was so subdued that
he dismissed the jury to their room without a word, and proceeded
with taking the rules usual at the end of the term. Half-an-hour afterwards,
the jury having obtained leave to return to the box, upon inquiry
dark man with short straight-up hair and a sharp voice, answered:
“May it please the Cote, we has not. We desires to ask the Cote
ef upon the provoso — you mind, Jedge — ef upon the provoso” —
“I don't want to hear any more about your provosoes,” screamed the
Judge, feeling that he must reassert himself after his late defeat;
“I have no instructions to give on your provosoes. Go back to your
room, and, mark me, I am going to adjourn this Court at three o'clock.
Mr. Sanks, if this jury have not agreed upon a verdict by that time,
do you have ready a wagon and a six-horse team. Hire it at the county's
expense. If you jury don't agree upon a verdict by that time, I'll have
you hauled around this circuit with me until you do agree. Now go
to your room.”
The little man dodged, turned quickly, and pocketing his provosoes,
led his followers back. But Mr. Sanks spoke the truth when he said,
“There's two men on that jury which they knows me, and which I also
likewise knows them.” And so after another hour both counsel agreed
to a mis-trial.
And now the sun was fast declining. Unless the Court could get
fifteen or twenty miles on its way home to-day, it would not reach it
and see its family by to-morrow night. Business had to be dispatched
in a hurry, as everybody knew that that Court was bent on seeing its
family at all cost.
Mr. Mobley was writing rapidly. Mr. Sanks peeped over his
shoulder, and then went to Mr. Sandidge and whispered in his ear.
“What are you so skeerd about?” asked the lawyer.
“Yes, but I aint ready; and ah — and also likewise I let the
money go,” answered the sheriff.
“How much do you happen to have about you at this particular time?”
“Twenty dollars.”
“Hand 'em to me. That'll do. Don't you see he's bent on home?”
The last docket was cleared, the juries discharged, and the Judge
took out his watch.
“May it please your Honor,” said Mr. Mobley, “I desire to take a
rule against the sheriff.”
“Will it be resisted?” asked the Judge, with a sullen look.
“It will, may it please your Honor,” blandly but firmly answered
Mr. Sandidge.
“Mr. Sheriff, go to my office and get me the Acts of the last Legislature.
which it is that contains the law I wish to refer to. I ask
the indulgence of the Court for a few, only a very few minutes, until I
can make out the showing,” and Mr. Sandidge looked as if he would
indeed like to be in a hurry, if such a thing were possible.
“Will there be any other rules?” asked the Judge.
“I have several,” Mr. Sandidge answered. “But unless your Honor
could hold over until to-morrow, I shall be obliged to postpone them
until the next term, as this rule will take up all, or pretty much all of
the balance of to-day — leastways, probably”—
Mr. Mobley, knowing his adversary's intention, rose and exclaimed:
“It is a most base subterfuge with both client and counsel! Within
my certain knowledge this money was collected more than a month
ago. I think that knave has had indulgence enough for his rascalities.”
The sheriff was going slowly towards the door, and was looking
back beseechingly to the Judge.
“Come back here, sir!” cried the latter, rising in his chair. “This
Court has got powers; it has got rights; it may be insulted, but it
has got privileges. Mr. Sheriff, adjourn this Court till the Court in
course!”
“I protest against this disgraceful”— began Mr. Mobley; but the
sheriff was shrieking the announcement at the door; and as his Honor,
pale and haggard, rushed rapidly past him, “God save the State!” he
cried in thankful glee, “and the onerble Cote.” Mr. Mobley was too
full of indignation to trust himself with many words.
“You two, and he, form a beautiful trio in the dispensation of
human justice,” he said bitterly to the lawyer and the sheriff. “It
was well that you” (to Mr. Sanks) “kept your dirty hands off me to-day.
As for you, Sandidge, mark me, your day is passing; mine is
coming; ay, it is already here!”
“I think he'll have to wait for his big Cote, eh, Mr. Sandidge?” Mr.
Sanks remarked as Mobley left. Mr. Sandidge made no answer,
but taking a big chew, smiled seriously. In twenty minutes from that
time, the two rascals compelled the plaintiff in execution who had
sought the rule to settle his debt by taking off twenty per cent., and
deducting also the twenty dollars paid Mr. Sandidge for his fee;
“which war but jestice,” claimed Mr. Sanks, “because, and so forth,
and also likewise because of them disgraceful proceedances.”
“Rather lively times in Court to-day,” said the young lawyer to
Overton, after they had reached the former's office.
“Surely such scenes must happen seldom?”
“Exactly, such do happen seldom indeed; but something like them
occurs often.”
“In all the circuits?”
“No, thank Heaven! We do have some Judges who are neither
fools nor rascals. Indeed, we have some who are eminently able and
honest. Our judiciary system is the best in the world, I believe,
except that it has no Court of Appeals — in fact, no head. When, therefore,
a fellow like Mike gets upon the Bench, there is no counting what
folly or what rascality he may commit. The miserable creature used
to crowd me until I felt that I must resist, or become as vile as a
collared slave. He knows now, I think, that I am not afraid of him.”
“He is now evidently afraid of you.”
“I do not know as to that.” Mr. Mobley brushed the hair from his
forehead, and looked as if he did know as to that.
“Well, well,” he continued, “let it be so, if it be so. For humiliating
as it is to a gentleman's sense of propriety and decency, he must
either become a favorite of the Court or make the Court afraid of
him. Between the two, unhappy as is the choice of either, he cannot
hesitate.”
The student made no answer, but parting from him, ordered his
horse, and rode slowly back to Mr. Parkinson's.
And now as I look back to the scenes of this week, they seem long,
oh! so long ago.
| Dukesborough tales | |