University of Virginia Library

THE DIGNITY OF THE COURT

To match the somber black robes of the justices, custom requires that the attorneys who appear before the court shall be dressed in black. So far as can be ascertained, no attorney has ever had the temerity to appear in other than a black coat, though some have sported fancy waistcoats or bright cravats. On such occasions the very atmosphere of the room, as the moving-picture men would say, "registers disapproval."

The appearance of the court while sitting is extremely impressive. It is on record that at least one lawyer has fainted from sheer fright on first rising to address the court. Even attorneys of long experience say that they never rise before the tribunal without a momentary qualm of stage fright.

It is but natural that such a court should inspire a feeling of awe, especially in the mind of a lawyer who realizes its tremendous power. It is often spoken of as the most powerful tribunal on earth. No other country has a bench with such broad jurisdiction. It is literally the court of last resort in the United States, and may even nullify the most solemnly considered acts of Congress.

Its summary power is well illustrated by a retort which is said to have been made by a brilliant young lawyer when he was corrected by one of the justices. The attorney was stating some legal proposition, when one of the judges leaned forward and said:

"But that is not the law."

"It was," replied the attorney with a bow, "until the court spoke!"

It must not be thought, however, that this elevation takes the justices out of touch with common humanity. Many stories are current in Washington which tell of eminently human qualities, and even weaknesses, of the members of the great court. One of these, which is, perhaps, old enough to be new to the present generation, concerns Chief Justice Marshall and his friend, Justice Story.

Neither Marshall nor Story maintained any domestic establishment at Washington, and the two judges lived together in bachelor quarters. Both were partial to a certain vintage of old Madeira wine, but, fearing that too frequent indulgence might interfere with their duties, they made it a rule that the Madeira should be opened only on rainy days.

One summer there came a long dry spell upon the capital city, and every morning the sun shone bright and hot. The two justices endured it for nearly a month without mentioning the Madeira; but as the weather became hotter and hotter their thoughts dwelt more and more on the cool beverage in the cellar. Finally, one morning, Marshall asked his friend to go to the window to see if it were not raining.

Story looked long and carefully, but could not even see a cloud. He reported this condition to his colleague. Chief Justice Marshall strode to the window, looked out over the Virginia hills, and remarked in his best judicial manner:

"It is true that there is no rain visible here. But this is only the District of Columbia. The jurisdiction of the Supreme Court extends over many thousands of miles of territory. May it not safely be assumed that somewhere in that vast jurisdiction it is raining?"

"It may," answered Story, and the Madeira was opened.