University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE SENTENCE AND THE RELEASE.

The answer of the stout-hearted
watchman did not by any means please
his honor. He frowned and bit his lips.
He had himself used the word `steal,'
not `take,' and that the witness should
thus substitute one word for another,
was not gratifying to him. It is true
that he had no right to have used the
word `steal,' thus declaring a theft to
have been committed, when his duty
was only to decide upon the truth given
in. But there are some justices who always
assume that the prisoner brought
before them is guilty, especially if they
be poor and friendless. Such was the
case in the present instance. It was
clear to all present who were disinterested,
that he would have been very
much disappointed to find the prisoner
guilty. He seemed to take delight
in condemning. To acquit any one
went sorely against his nature. Instead
of regarding himself as a protector of
the innocently accused, who might be
brought before him, he no sooner confronted
a prisoner than he assumed a
frown to inspire terror and brow-beat.

He did not now like the bold bearing
of the honest watchman. If he had
dared to have stretched his authority, he
would forthwith have ordered a committal
for him; but as David had faithfully,
though reluctanctly, performed his duty,
in arresting the woman, he could charge
nothing against him. The Justice, after
being a few moments silent, as if
considering what he should do, for in
his heart, he felt that the poor woman
was no thief, and that her case called
for commisseration rather than punishment,
looked up uneasily at the benevolent-looking
man and then fixing his
eyes on the prisoner said sternly,

`Prisoner, you have been accused of
stealing a shuter, and the accusation
has been fully proved. You have
plead poverty and the valueless character
of the article stolen. But neither
of these pleas are admissible in a court
of justice, as I trust this is. If poverty
were an excuse for theft then no persons
would be convicted; for want it is
that leads to the commission of almost
every theft. The man who steals a
loaf of bread, though he were perishing
with hunger, is equally guilty with the
man who robs the vaults of a bank.
Theft is theft. Ahem.—Nor is the plea
that the thing stolen is of no value. It
has a certain value to the thief, or why
should it be coveted. The shutter may
not have been worth to Mr. Jarvey a
sixpence.'

`Your honor, I would not take one
silver dollar for it. It will cost me two
dollars to have a new one made.'

`Very well. You see, prisoner, that
the value of your theft is two dollars:
a very grievous crime, you perceive.
But under the circumstances if you are
willing to pay him the value of the
shutter and the costs of your arrest, &c.,
which will amount to about a `five,' you
are at liberty to go to your home;
otherwise I shall commit you for three
months. An example must be set. Justice
mnst not be too lenient. The dignity
of the laws must be maintained.'

`Oh, sir, I have no money,' cried the
poor woman, clasping her thin hands
together, and looking towards him with
a tearful face. `I have not one penny
in the world. I am wretchedly poor.
I have a family at home who are at this
moment perishing for food and warmth.
Oh, sir, be merciful to me, as you hope
to have mercy at the bar of God!'

`Don't talk to me here, woman, of
the bar of God! We recognise here
only our own tribunal. You will gain
nothing by sacrificed speeches and tears.
We are used to that blarney here. Pay
the five dollars, or Mr. Officer take her
off to the House of Correction.'

`Mercy! mercy!' cried the poor woman,
shrinking from the officer's touch,
throwing herself upon her knees before
the inexorable justice. `Do not bar me
from my children. I meant not to steal.'

`Three months, woman. You have
your sentence. Officer, do your duty?'

`Stop, sir,' said David Dalton, stepping
up, and extending one arm between
her and the officer, while with the
other he raised her from her knees.
`There is no need to go to extremities
in this affair. The poor woman has
friends, though she can't find justice.
Keep up courage, ma'am. They shan't

harm yon. It was through me you
came here, and I'll get you free, if five
dollars will do it. Your honor,' he added,
in a voice deep with generous emotion,
and laying, as he spoke, five dollars
upon the table, `there is the five
paid. The poor woman is free from
your clutches, God be thanked.'

`What, fellow!' cried the justice with
flushed cheeks, `do you contemn and
insult this court?'

`No, your honour!' answered David,
standing erect in the dignified attitude
of an honest man; `I mean to insult no
man. What I said came from my
heart and my lips would utter it. If
you choose to commit me, I am ready
as soon as I see this poor woman safe
home!'

`You have lost your berth as a watchman,
fellow, if I have influence enough
to eject you from it,' answered the enraged
justice, his face looking even redder
than its usual brandy hue.

`My good man,' said the benevolent
looking gentleman, rising and taking
David's large hand in his own and
smiling kindly, almost sweetly, upon
him, `you need not fear any ill consequences
from your generous and fear
less conduct this morning. If his honor
should succeed in getting you dismissed,
though I do not see what charge he
can bring against you, I will take care
that you find employment. I have been
watching your face during this examination.
I was pleased to see the deep
interest you take in the case of the poor
woman, and I only delayed to advance
the five dollars in her behalf, knowing
from your manner that you would certainly
do it, and I was willing that you
should have the satisfaction of doing it.'

`Sir, you are very kind. I would
not have been prevented for a good
deal from paying the money, poor as I
am; for by my means she is here before
this justice's court. If I had not have
been so afraid of losing my place she
would have escaped!'

`Mr. Justice,' now cried out the little
miser, who had been looking from one
to the other and listening to what was
said with his blood boiling over, `Mister
Justice, I protest against this mode of
settling the matter. I did not say I
would take two dollars for the shutter.
I only said it would cost that to have a
new one! Two dollars won't satisfy
me. It won't pay for my trouble last
night, my trouble here this morning,
and my wear and tear of mind and
body, besides a three penny candle that
burned all night in my entry because,
in my excitement, I forgot to blow it
out! Sir, I demand justice. I demand
that the thief be sent to jail for at least
six months!'

`Mr. Jarvey,' said the justice, `the
case being decided and the money paid,
there is no reversion. You must submit
as you best can. If you had made
out a bill of damages you should have
had full recompense, but as it is I can
do no more in the matter.'

`I will appeal to the criminal court!'
cried the little man, taking up his hat
and thrusting it down hard upon his
head and stamping noisily and angrily
strode out of the room.

`Oh, sir, can he prosecute me farther?'
cried poor Mrs. Wilson, who had
been overwhelming David with her
grateful thanks for what he had done
for her.

`No, madam,' answered the benevolent
man, kindly taking her hand. You
are now safe.'

`Are you sure he can do nothing?'
asked David, making a step as if he
were about to pursue the miser. `If I
thought he could I would follow him
and give him a lesson that would make
him repent any such intention as he
has upon his mind.'

`He can do nothing, my good man.
The case is dismissed and can be prosecuted
no farther.'

`Hear that ma'am!' said David,
with exultation.

`I do indeed, sir!' she answered,
with looks of grateful happiness that
caused even her pale wan checks to
wear, for the moment, an aspect of
beauty.

`Is there a coach at the door, David?'
asked the gentleman, who had taken
such an interest in the fate of the
prisoner.

`I will see, sir,' answered the generous
watchman, hastening from the
room, while the justice putting on his

hat and cloak prepared to go home to
his breakfast, having got through with
the examinations of the night-captives.
He had sentenced Bess to pay a fine of
three dollars and to promise good behaviour,
and had sent the young girl,
Juley, to the House of Correction for
sixty days. If he had sent the poor
woman, Mrs. Wilson, up for the same
time he would have gone home to his
breakfast with a better appetite; but
there was something in the countenance
of the benevolent gentleman, who was
closely watching the examination, which
restrained him from following out the
dictates of his bosom with reference to
her. But for his presence he would
have sent her up for six months. But
his own judicial power feared before
the moral power of that good man's, to
carry itself fully out. Would that every
court of justice had a human-angel
watching closely the judges, and guarding
the helpless and the innocent from
the vigours of relentless justice and the
wanton exercise of power. The proceedings
in some of our courts would
disgrace the judiciary of a Turkish
court of justice. The common idea of
justice is to make it the synonyme of
punishment. Justice holds the shield
as well as the sword; and should protect
as well as chastise. Justice is no
longer blind. It knows the rich from
the poor when both stand before its tribunal!
Its brow is ever bent into a
frown instead of being expanded with
benevolence and sympathy. Instead
of presuming every one innocent till
proved guilty, it presumes them guilty
and fears, as it would seem, that they
may be proved innocent. It seems to
stand gaoler at the great prison-houses
of the land and to cry `more, more!
Give us more!' It delights to condemn
rather than to acquit. It looks upon
innocence as its foe! Such is `justice'
in many of the petty courts of our great
cities. Through them hundreds of incent
persons have been condemned
with the guilty. In one of the tribunals
of one of the cities of this land, there
stands, day and night, a man at the right
hand of the judge whose self-imposed
province it is to act as a mediator between
the prisoner and the judge!
Hundreds of the poor and the unfortunate,
and friendless have been saved by
his interpoition, and restored to society.
His watchful eye scans closely the proceedings.
His availing arm is stretched
forth to save and defend. His presence
is like that of angels there! Justice is
purified by it, and more cautiously administered.
Is not the very fact of this
benevolent interposition a proof that
justice needs to adorn itself with humanity
as with a garment of righteousness.
Does it not show to the world
that more benevolence is needed in the
administration of our tribunals. If
humanity, charity, and love ruled over
the decisions of the judges what need
is there for a `Daysman' between the
prisoners and the bench? Remember,
oh, ye Judges! that misfortune is the
legitimate mother of crime, and that
pity and charity should ever temper the
severity of justice!

David now came in saying that the
coach was ready. The gentleman then
took Mrs. Wilson, poor and wretchedly
clad as she was, by the hand and led
her out of the low, dark court room,
and assisting her into the coach, got in
after her, while David got up with the
driver to show him the way to her house,
and at the same time to have the pleasure
of seeing her once more restored
to her home.

The morning was bright and clear.
The sunshine sparkled upon the surface
of the snow and produced a brilliant effect,
reflected from roofs, windows, cornices
and trees. The street, early as it
was, was filled with many sleighers, and
musical with the jingling of bells. The
hack in which they rode was upon runners,
and glided swiftly and smoothly
along the snowy streets.

`I learn from the watchman, madam,'
said the benevolent gentleman, whom
we shall call Mr. Gustavus, addressing
her to stop her expressions of joy and
gratitude which to a true benevolent
heart are annoying, `I learn that you
are called Mrs. Wilson. From your
appearance and your conduct in the
court I am satisfied you are an honest
person, and that you intended no crime.'

`Indeed, sir, I did not. Do you, sir,
think it was a crime, then?'

`No, dear madam, not in God's eye.
In the eye of human laws it is a crime
to take the property of another wherever
we may find it. There was no guilt
in taking the shutter from the street,
for I know you would not have torn it
from the window had you seen it hanging
by one hinge only, and ready to
fall.'

`No, indeed, sir, I would not,' she
answered earnestly.

`Well, we won't speak of it any
more. It is all over, and you are safe
from the perils to which it has exposed
you.'

`And through your goodness, sir, and
that of the good watchman. Sir, you
have both done an act that I cannot reward
you for, but God will reward you.'

`I am content for all that I have done
or may do for you to await that reward,'
answered Mr. Gustavus with a
smile. `You live, you say, in a small
court out of Flagg Alley?'

`Yes, sir.'

`We shall hardly be able to get near
your abode in the coach. We will stop
at the foot of the alley. Are you married?'

The woman hesitated, looked embarrassed,
but not guiltily so, and then answered
hurriedly,

`Yes, sir.'

`Have you children?'

`Two—three, sir!'

`You have represented yourself as
very poor. Is your husband not able to
maintain you?' he asked, without appearing
to notice her confused answer.

`Yes—yes, sir!' she answered, in
the same embarrassed manner.

`Perhaps he is ill?'

`No, sir. That is—'

`Well, I will not pry too closely into
your domestic affairs. I am convinced
you are an honest woman. I
wish to go to your house to see how
you live and how I can improve your
situation; for it will never do for one so
feeble as you are to be forced abroad in
a stormy night after drift wood to keep
your family from perishing. But the
coach is now at the foot of the alley.
We will alight here.'