 | CHAPTER V. Dukesborough tales |  |
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.”
| CHAPTER V. Dukesborough tales | |