University of Virginia Library

12. JUSTIFICATION AFTER VERDICT.

The Fall assizes of the year 184—, came on in the East
Riding, and my friend, Paul Beechim, found himself duly
indicted before Judge C., for an assault and battery committed
on the body of one Phillip Cousins, in the peace of the
State then and there being. I felt more than ordinary interest
in the case; the aforesaid Paul being a particular
friend of mine, and, moreover, the case presenting some singular
and mysterious features. The defendant was one of the
best-natured and most peaceable citizens of the county, and,
until recently, before this ex parte fighting, had been on
terms of intimacy and friendship with the gentleman upon
whom the assault was made. The assault was of a ferocious
character; no one knew the cause of it; though every one
knew, from the character of Beechim, that some extraordinary
provocation had been given him: it was impossible to guess
what it was. I was no better informed than the rest. When
Beechim came to employ me in the case, I tried to possess
myself of the facts. To all inquiries he only replied, that he
had acted as he had done for good and sufficient reasons—

but that he did not choose to say more. I told him that it
was impossible for me to defend him unless he would place
me in possession of the facts, and assured him that whatever
he communicated should be held in strict professional and
personal confidence. But nothing I could say produced any
change in his determination. I was about abandoning his
case, remarking to him that if he felt no confidence in his
counsel, or not enough to induce him to tell him the facts, he
might be assured that it was no less his interest than my
wish, that he should go where he would be better suited.
But he persisted that it was from no want of confidence in
me that he refused, and that he regarded me with the same
feelings of friendship he had always felt for me, and concluded
by telling me that if I refused to take his case he should
employ no other lawyer, but would let the matter proceed
without defence. I told him I did not see any hope of his
escaping severe punishment as the case stood; to which he
replied that he expected it, but that he hoped I would, if it
were possible, prevent his being sent to jail. The case came
up in the regular course of things and was tried. The facts
were brought out plainly enough. The assault was made in
public, on the square; the weapon a large cane, with which
the defendant had given Cousins an awful beating, gashing
his head and causing the blood to flow very freely over his
clothes. The only words said by Beechim in the course of
the affair were, “How, d—n you, how do you like that pine-apple
sop?” spoken just as he was leaving the prostrate
Cousins. Of course on such testimony, the jury found the
defendant guilty: and the court retained Beechim in custody
until some leisure was given it to fix the punishment, which,
by the statute, the court was bound to impose.

Judge C. was something of a martinet in his line. He
was a pretty good disciplinarian and kept the police business
of the court in good order. There had been of late many
violations of the law and a growing disposition was felt by
the people and the courts to put down these excesses; but
Beechim was so popular, and withal, so kind-hearted and
gentlemanly a fellow, that a great deal of sympathy was felt
for him, and a general wish that he might in some way get
out of the scrape.

Among the peculiarities of Judge C. was an itching curiosity.
He was always peeping under the curtain of a case
to see if he could not find something behind; and felt not a
little disappointed and vexed when the examination stopped
short of bringing out all the facts and incidents, the relations
of the parties and the like.

He had been struck with the expression used by Beechim—“pine-apple
sop,” and was evidently uneasy in mind
in his present state of inability to unravel it. The first
pause in the cause he was next trying gave him an opportunity
of calling me to him: I came of course: Said he, “B—
what did that fellow mean by `pine-apple sop?”' I told
him there was a mystery about it which I could not explain.
“A mystery, ha! Well, now, here, B—, in confidence—just
tell me; it shan't go any farther—of course, you know—just
give me an item of it.” I told him I really was ignorant of

it—as was every one else; but I felt sure that it was something
that would place my client's conduct in a better light,
though he obstinately refused to tell it to me. The judge
then assured me I had better see my client, and get him
to state it to the court; that he would give all proper weight
to it in fixing the punishment, but that as the case stood, he
should have to make an example of him. I took Paul aside
and told him what the judge had said, and added my own
counsel to his Honor's, but with no effect. He still mildly but
resolutely refused to make any explanation. I felt a good
deal vexed at this, as it seemed to me, most unreasonable
conduct. Revolving the thing in my mind, I got more and
more bothered the more I thought about it. I began to look at
the circumstances more narrowly; that it was no sham or
trick was very evident; no man would have taken such a
beating for fun: that the provocation did not touch any domestic
relations which the defendant might have desired to
keep from being exposed, was apparent from the fact that
my client had no relatives in the country, and the only girl
he ever went to see was Cousins's sister. There were two
facts I made sure of: the first that this meeting was immediately
after Cousins's return from New Orleans, which occurred
a few days after Beechim himself had arrived from
that city; the second, that Cousins had kept out of the way
and had received a note shortly before court from Beechim.
I made up my mind that the quarrel originated in something
that had occurred between the parties in New Orleans.
I happened to know, too, that Samuel Roberts, Esq., one of
the 'cutest chaps we had about town, and `up to trap' in
whatever was stirring wherever he happened to be, was in
New Orleans at the time these young gentlemen were there;
and I determined to get the facts out of him if I could.
Shortly after breakfast, on the next day after the verdict,—
the judgment still delayed, partly by my request and partly
by the judge's curiosity being yet unappeased—I sallied out
with a package in my hand as if going to the post office.
Sam was on the street. I knew if there was any thing to be
concealed by him, the only way to get it was by a coup d'
etat. So half-passing him, I turned suddenly on him, and
putting my hand on his shoulder, and looking him in the
eye, broke into a laugh, saying, “Well, Sam, that quarrel between
Beechim and Cousins in New Orleans, and the—thing
it grew out of—didn't beat any thing you ever heard of?—
Wasn't it the queerest affair that ever happened? I am defending
Beechim, and, would you believe it?—he never told
me up to last night what was the cause of the fight? Don't
the whole thing look curious?” I said this very flippantly
with a knowing air, as if I knew all about it. Sam's eyes
twinkled as he answered, “Well, B—, isn't it the blamedest
piece of business you ever heard of?” “Yes,” said I, “it
is; and we must get Paul out of this scrape—the judge is
viperish, and, if we don't do something, six months in jail is
the very lowest time we can get Paul off with. Now, Sam,
just step here—tell me the particulars of the matter in New
Orleans as you understand them; for you know any discrepancy
between Paul's statement and yours might hurt things
mightily, and I want to know exactly how the case stands.”
“No,” said Sam, “I can't do it. I promised Paul, on
honor, that I wouldn't mention it to a soul, and I won't do it
unless I am compelled. So you needn't ask me unless you
bring a note from Paul relieving me from the pledge.” I
saw he was determined, and it was useless to press the point.
I had a vague idea that a woman was mixed up in the
matter, and was afraid of some exposure of that sort; so I
let out blind to find out: “Well, well, Sam, if you stand on
points of honor, of course that ends it;—but just explain
this thing—how did the girl behave under the circumstances?
you know it was calculated to be a little trying, and the
thing being so sudden and the parties being strangers, too,—
you understand?” and I looked several volumes, and searched
narrowly for some answer. Sam merely replied, “Why,
as to the girl opposite, if you mean her, she behaved very
well. She laughed a little at first, but when Paul showed
how it hurt him, she seemed to feel for him, and let the rest
take all the laugh.” I felt better satisfied with this explanation,
and determined on my course.

The judge, in the mean time, was on thorns of anxiety.
He had been conversing with the clerk, and sheriff, and
State's attorney, but to no purpose; they only inflamed his
curiosity the more; the mystery seemed inscrutable. He
came to my room twice that night—but I was out—to see
me on the subject. Early in the morning, as I was taking a
comfortable snooze, his Honor came into my room, and woke
me up. “Get up, B—, get up—why do you sleep so late in

the morning?—it's a bad habit.” (The judge was in the
habit of sleeping until a late breakfast. I got up, and before
I could get on my pantaloons, he opened the conversation.
“B.,” said he, “this thing about young Beechim distresses
me a great deal. I feel really concerned about his case;
and if you will tell me now how that difficulty originated,
I—I—I—shall feel better about it. My mind would—yes,
my mind would be relieved. Of course, B., you know all
about the matter, and I assure you it will be to the interest
of your client to reveal the whole affair—de-ci-ded-ly his
interest. What is it?” I told him I really did not know,
and could not find out as yet; but I thought I had got the
clue to the mystery, and, if he would aid me, it could all be
brought to light; I was convinced, that if it did come out,
it would make decidedly for the benefit of Paul, whom I
knew to be incapable of making a wanton assault upon any
one, especially upon Cousins. The judge told me I might
rely on him, and he would see if any one dared to hold back
any thing which it was proper to bring out. He was so communicative
as to assure me that, generally speaking, he was
a man of but little curiosity: indeed, he sometimes reproached
himself, and his wife often reproached him, for not knowing
things;—that is, he said, he meant by “not knowing things”
—personal matters, gossip, and so forth—and that he never
got any thing but what was played like a trapball all over
town; but, in this case, as a mere matter of speculation, he
confessed he did feel desirous of unravelling the riddle; in
fact, it preyed on his mind; he couldn't rest last night; he
even dreamed of a fellow funnelling him and pouring down
his throat a bottle of spirits of turpentine, and asking him
as he left him gagged, how he liked “that pine-apple sop.”
His Honor then went into many ingenious theories and surmises
in elucidation of the mystery; but I felt assured that
his explication was more fanciful than true.

Finding a great indisposition still, to reveal any thing,
on the part of Beechim, and fearing that, if he were present,
he would interpose objections to the presentation of the
proof as to the provocation, I arranged it so that the sheriff
should detain Paul from the court-house until I could get
the testimony in.

In order to a more perfect understanding of the matter,
I had as well state here, that Beechim was a young gentleman
who had some two or three years before “located” in
the county, and was doing a general land agency and collecting
business, surveying lands, &c., having before been
engaged as principal in an academy. He had graduated at
the college at Knoxville, Tennessee, and cherished sentiments
of great reverence for his venerable alma mater,
which showed a very lively condition of the moral sensibilities.
He thought very highly of the respectable society of
that somewhat secluded village, and conceived a magnified
idea of the burgh as a most populous, wealthy and flourishing
metropolis. I verily believe he considered Knoxville at
once the Athens and Paris of America, abounding in all the
refinements, and shining with the polish of a rare and exquisite
civilization—the seat of learning, the home of luxury,

and the mart of commerce. Letters, and arts, and great
men, and refined modes, and cultivated manners, and women
of a type that they never before had been moulded into, there
abounded, in his partial fancy prodigal of such generous appreciation.
The magnificent self-delusion of dear old Captain
Jackson, immortalized by Elia, scarcely equalled the
hallucination of Paul quoad the sights and scenes, the little
short of celestial glory of and about the city of Knoxville, as
he would persist in calling that out-of-the-way, not-to-be-gotten-to,
Sleepy-Hollow town, fifty miles from the Virginia
line, and a thousand miles from any where else. I speak
of it in pre-railroad times. Paul had been assiduous in the
cultivation of manners. His model was, of course, that he
found at Knoxville. He had a great penchant for fashionable
life, and fashionable life was the life of the coteries, the
upper-tens of Knoxville. Rusticity and vulgarity were
abominations to him. To go back to Knoxville and get to
the tip of the ton there, was the extreme top-notch of Paul's
ambition. Apart from this high-church Knoxvillism, Paul
was an excellent fellow, somewhat vain, sensitive to a fault,
and thin-skinned; somewhat pretentious as to fashion, style
and manners; indeed, the girls had got to regard him as a
sort of village Beau Brummell, “the glass of fashion and
the mould of form”—a character on which he plumed himself
not a little, and, I am sorry to say it, he did not bear
his blushing honors as meekly as could have been hoped for
under the circumstances. He had written back to the
friends of his youth (as Mr. Macawber hath it), in Knoxville,
that he was growing more reconciled to his fate; his
mind was calmer, he said, though his exile had, at first, gone
very hard with him; but the manners of the natives were
evidently, he was pleased to think, under his missionary
labor, improving, and he must say for these natives, that
they had evinced docility—which gave him hopes of further
civilization.

That there could be any thing beyond the pitch of refinement
to which Knoxville had gone, Paul could not believe
on less than ocular evidence.

I got out a subpœna and sent the sheriff after Roberts,
with orders for immediate attendance. The court was in
session, and I proposed taking up this matter of Beechim's
before the usual business of the day was gone into.

Samuel came into the court somewhat discomposed, but
on observing that Beechim was not present, became reassured.
His Honor drew from his pouch a fresh quid of tobacco,
deposited it in his right cheek, wiped his mouth neatly
with his handkerchief, seated himself comfortably in his
chair, cleared his throat, blew his nose, and spread out his
countenance into a pleasant and encouraging “skew,” and
directed me to proceed with the witness—commencing at the
beginning and telling the witness to take his time.

Roberts took the stand. He testified to this effect: indeed,
this is nearly a literal transcript of my notes, taken at
the time. “Witness knows the parties—has known them
for three years—is intimately acquainted with Beechim
being a Tennesseean and having been at one time at Knoxville—knows

that Beechim and Cousins were on good terms;
indeed quite friendly until May last. In company with
witness they went together to New Orleans; went by way of
Jackson and the Mississippi river; arrived there the 13th
of the month—conversed together a good deal—conversation
of a friendly character—quite sociable; Beechim talked a
great deal of Knoxville, the girls, fashions and society:
Cousins listened attentively: knows the parties must have
been friendly. Arrived in New Orleans on the 18th, about
10 A. M., Monday; intended to remain until Thursday; no
boat going up until Tuesday night. B. expressed himself
gratified by the zeal of the porters and hackmen to serve
him; said, however, that it marred the enjoyment somewhat
to think that probably these attentions might be mercenary.
It was well not to be too credulous. Took lodgings at the
St. Charles Hotel. Heard a conversation going on between
the two—subject, the mode: Cousins had been in the city
and the hotel, frequently, so he said—knew the rules and the
etiquette; Beechim had been at the best hotels in Knoxville,
knew their rules, but had been from Knoxville a good while,
therefore was rusty—was not certain but that he might make
some awkward blunder—might be fatal to his character:
Cousins offered to act as cicerone—said B. might rely on
him, `to put him through;' told him to take an item from
him—Beechim thanked him kindly. At three the gong
rang for dinner—parties were in the gentlemen's sitting room.
B. started—thought at first that the steam engine that worked
the cooking stove in the kitchen had burst its boiler. C.
told him it was the gong: B. asked him if it were not a new
thing—long as he had been in Knoxville had never heard
of such a thing—asked C. if he could believe it. Went to
dinner—bill of fare was handed; B. wished to know if there
was any lincister to translate the French dishes—said there
was in Knoxville; got along pretty well until just as B. had
taken a piece of pine-apple on his plate, the waiter came
along and put a green-colored bowl before every guest's plate
with water and a small slice of lemon in it. Beechim asked
Cousins what that was. C. replied, `Sop for the pine-apple.'
B. said he thought so. “That's the way it used to be served
up at `The Traveller's Rest' in Knoxville.” Beechim took
the bowl and put it in his plate, and then put the pine-apple
in the bowl, and commenced cutting up the apple, stirred it
around in the fluid with his fork, and ate it, piece after piece.
B. kept his eyes on the bowl—did not observe what was passing
about him. Many persons at table—five hundred at
least—ladies, dandies, foreigners, moustached fellows; began
to be an uproar on the other side of the table; every body
got to looking down at Beechim—eye-glasses put up—a
double-barrelled spy-glass (as witness supposed) levelled at
him by a man at the head of the table, who stood up to
draw a bead on him—loud laughing—women putting handkerchiefs,
or napkins, (witness is not certain which,) to
their mouths. B. got through with the pine-apple. Cousins
had been laughing with the rest—composed himself now, and
asked B. “how he liked the pine-apple?” B. answered in
these words: `I think the pine-apple very good, but don't
you think the sauce is rather insipid?'—Spoke the words
pretty loud—heard at some distance—great sensation—immoderate
laughter- women screaming—men calling for wine
—the French consul's clerk drank to the English consul's clerk
`Ze shentleman from ze interiore, may he leeve to a green
ole aige,'—drank with all the honors. Beechim seeing the
fuss, turned to an old man next him and asked what was the
matter—any news of an exciting character? The old man,
a cotton broker—an Englishman—replied that he, B., `had
been making an ass of himself—he had been eating out of
the finger-bowl.' B.'s face grew as red as a beet—then pale;
he jumped back—tried to creep out by bending his head
down below the chairs—rushed on and knocked over the
waiter with the coffee—spilt it on a young lady—staggered
back and fell against a Frenchman—tore his ruffles—knocked
him, head striking head, over against an Irishman—quarrel—two
duels next morning — Frenchman killed. Gen.
Sacré Frogleggé rose and proposed three cheers for the gentleman
of retiring habits; encored: wine all around the
board—uproarious doings: Tom Placide called on to rehearse
the scene—done—applause terriffic: Beechim got out—forgot
where his hat was—ran bare-headed to the bar (?)—called
for his bill—never got his clothes—ran to the steamboat—
shut himself up in the state room for two days;—thing out
in the Picayune next morning—no names given. B. came
home—saw Cousins when he came up—licked him within an
inch of his life with a hickory stick. Witness further saith
not.”

“Yes” said the judge, “and served him right. Justification
complete! So enter it, clerk.”

During the delivery of this testimony, you may be sure
that the crowd were not very serious; but knowing how sensitive
Beechim was on the subject, I was congratulating myself
that he was not present. Turning from the witness as
he finished, I was pained to see Beechim—he had come in
after the trial began,—poor Paul! sitting on the bench weeping
piteously. I tried to console him—I told him not to
mind it—it was a mere bagatelle; but he only squeezed my
hand, and brokenly said, “B., thank you; you are my friend:
I shall never forget you; you meant it for the best:—you
have saved my body but you have ruined my character.
Good-bye, I leave this morning. Roberts will settle your
fee. But, B., as a friend—one request; if—you—can—
help—it—don't—let—this—thing—get—back—to—Knoxville.”

Accordingly Paul left—for good and all. What became
of him I don't know. I did hear of one Paul Beechim in
California; but whether the same one or not, I can't say.
He was named in the papers as a manager of the first San
Francisco ball of 22d February, 1849.

His Honor made a solemn and affecting charge to the
audience, generally, commending the moderation of young
Beechim. “See,” said his Honor, “the way that this thing
works. Most men would have seized their gun, or bowie,

on such terrible aggravation, and taken the life of the culprit;
but this young gentleman has set an example which
older heads might well copy: he has contented himself with
taking a club and giving him a good, sound, constitutional,
conservative licking; and you see, gentlemen, the milder
remedy has answered every good purpose! The Court adjourns
for refreshment.”