To the eleventh point, as follows, —
"He didn't know whether the juryman was a voter or not – 'twas none of his bizness – best known to himself – if he set, knowin' he warn't a juryman, he orter to be proceeded agin by the next grand jury."
To the twelfth point as follows, —
"How in airth did he know anything 'bout floppin' coppers – he warn't thar – he warn't a juryman – he was the court – they might-er flopped for all he knew – but he had seen Mr. Swipes, who was one of the men who set, and he says thar warn't a copper flopped."
To the thirteenth point, as follows, —
"There was a verdict, and it was recorded on his docket – it was, 'that the jury couldn't agree, one of 'em standin' out 'cause he was a-feared or wanted to be pop'lar with somebody;' and that was jist as it was gin in."
Squire Longbow had returned much more matter to the court than he was required to do by his affidavit, which has not been stated – mere speculations of his own about the law and facts of the case as they appeared before him, all of which he said the court "orter know."
The judge of the county court was an enlarged edition of Longbow himself – enlarged, because his jurisdiction was greater. He was one of the foremost men of the county, because he was one of the most independent. He owned a great deal of land, and a great deal of stock – bought and sold much – and had acquired a practical knowledge of the way things were done in a new country. He had been school inspector, highway commissioner, supervisor, and member of the legislature, and he was now judge. He did not know any law, except what Bates, Turtle, and other kindred pettifoggers had taught him – and when he shot at a case, he shot in the dark. He was right half of the time upon the result of chances; and that, perhaps, was doing as well as half the judges do, who pretend to more knowledge in the profession. He was a stumpy, red-headed man, and very "percussion" in his decisions – gave very short or no reasons for them – and like Longbow, didn't know a technicality from a sign-post.
The law points in the appeal were first to be argued – if Turtle failed on them, he was then entitled to a trial on the facts.
Turtle argued his law points in a pile. He flung the whole return at the judge in gross, playing first upon this string, and then upon that, abusing everybody connected with the cause but his own witnesses and himself, until he blew himself almost entirely out of breath.
He began by flattering the court. "It was sunthin'," he said, "to have a county court to 'peal up to – if 'twarn't for that, he'd stop business – Squire Longbow had got so that la' warn't la' any more with him. When he first came inter the settlement, he was a pretty good justis, but he was as woolly as a sheep now. If he got a crotchet inter his head, you couldn't beat it out – he was worse now than he was afore he got married the second time. The cause below was killed by him – he was 'torney, and justis, and jury – he had 'greed to go for defendant from the start – had knock'd the jury inter fits by takin' Sile Bates off on't agin la' – had let folks in to swear that hadn't lived in the State six months, and nobody know'd whether they were to be believed or not; but the presumption of la' was agin 'em – that he cuss'd him for it, but that didn't do any good – that the Squire drank himself, and let the jury get drunk, shocking as the fact might be – and yet he warn't a drunken man – rather a sober man – but it was done by him to fuddle the jury, and spile his cause – that he let in the almight-i-est set-off he ever did hear on – the very thought on't was 'nough to give this court spasms – and this court orter for that, if for nothin' else, 'point a guar-dine over him – that he told him when he did it, that he'd foller the case to the backside of sundown, and blow him inter flinders, but he didn't seem to care 'bout it – that the jury did flop on the verdict, and the justis' knew it, and his return warn't worth shucks on that p'int" – and so on for an hour or more, until he became exhausted.
Sile Bates rose and said, "that, 'cordin' to the return of the justice, Turtle's speech was a lie!"
Mr. Turtle hurled an inkstand and contents at Bates's head, which besmeared him from head to foot.
Mr. Bates hurled another back at him, which emptied its contents upon Mr. Turtle.
The court called them both to order, reminding them that things were going too far.
Mr. Bates declared "it was a lie!"
Mr. Turtle said "he should boot him if the word was repeated."
Mr. Bates repeated the word, and was booted through the court-house door.
Difficulties being settled, counsel appeared in court very amiable, covered with ink, ready to proceed.
Mr. Turtle attempted to 'pologize to the court – "he had no 'pology for Bates."
The court remarked that "it wasn't necessary – the doctrine of set-off would apply."
Mr. Bates said he had no speech to make – the court knew the justice who made the return – if it believed him, then Turtle might as well cave.
During this uproar, Philista Filkins with her friends, and Charity Beadle with her friends, each troop ranged round their counsel, were looking upon this war of words with the most intense anxiety. Miss Filkins had attired herself for the occasion in a mussy crape dress, a pinched-up hat, and a black shawl, being, as she said, in affliction. She declared that Miss Beagle tried to "spile" her character, and she felt it, for that when that was gone, one might as well give up, and die. She carried a deep-set grievance in her face, a fixed anguish, which occasionally broke up into a snuffle. She was sustained, however, as has been seen, in her trials, by a few benevolent Puddleford ladies, who had most magnanimously followed her and her case, reckless of time and money, and who said, "they meant to see the end on't, cost what it might."
Miss Beadle and her friends were a very different-looking tempered body. They were charged to the brim with acid and red pepper. They looked and felt lightning, and any one could see at a glance that they meant to fight as long as there was a hair of their friend left. It was generally understood that they had agreed to "throw in around" and help Miss Charity out, and her case had now, of course, become their case, and Bates was as much their lawyer as Miss Beadle's lawyer – and Turtle, when he got "ramptious," was jest as "sassy" to them as he was to the court, or Miss Beadle, they said – "and if they were not greatly mistaken, he'd see the day that he'd repent on't."
The women who composed these two hostile factions got into several side-fights between themselves, what Ike called "collateral ish-ers" – and twitted each other of a dozen or more dead and buried slanders, which had for a long time been forgotten. Mrs. Bird gave Aunt Sonora a regular "runnin' over," as she call'd it – "a piece of her mind, that would last her as long as she liv'd." She told Aunt Sonora, who was one of Miss Filkins's body-guard, that "she was a pretty old woman to come up thar and try to screen that Filkins critter—she'd better stick up for her– she was a nice old woman – a handsum old woman – a beau-tiful old woman – she'd better be home a-takin' care on her children – she'd better be a mendin' her husband's old breeches – it would look a great deal better. What if Filkins had lied as much about her, or her old man, she'd ask her that. Guess'd she'd make the fur fly some – guess'd she wouldn't-er stood it no longer than other folks – guess'd she couldn't get along without a character better'n other people – guess'd she hadn't got any too much to brag on, anyhow, if reports were true – s'pose she should rake up all she'd heer'd about her, and go tellin' it round arter everybody, where would she be. Bah! how I hate sich folks," she continued, putting on one of her most contemptible faces, and spitting like a mad cat, at Aunt Sonora.
Aunt Sonora was a philosopher on such occasions. She knew the storm would soon blow over, and that Mrs. Bird would be "round," to take tea with her, in less than a week – so she took a quiet pinch of snuff, and told Mrs. Bird in reply, that "she'd call onto the court, if she cut any more of her antics round her – she ought-er recollect she was in the high court, and they didn't 'low any flabbergastin' in sich places; she'd be in jail quicker'n scart first thing she know'd, and her hull pack with her, if they didn't keep mighty mum. She wasn't in Puddleford now, she'd find, if she let her mouth spit bile at that rate."
Mrs. Bird sobered down.
Squire Longbow was also present, to see the end of this famous suit. The Squire usually followed his cases into the county court, "to look arter 'em," as he said, "and to explain things." He was dressed in his best suit of homespun, and also had on his most dignified air. He did not even wince during the scathing Turtle gave him and his return, feeling perfectly sure that he couldn't be hurt by any country 'torney in the upper courts. He "ray-ther thought he was known thar." The county judge, in a very summary and careless manner, decided, "the p'ints Mr. Turtle had raised warn't good; they were all agin the return of the justis'; and he must pay respect to the lower courts."
(Here Squire Longbow drew his pocket handkerchief and blew his nose like a trumpet, to call the attention of the by-standers to the decision.)
He would repeat – this for the benefit of the Squire, evidently – "they were all agin the return of the justis', who was an old magistrate, and had did a great deal of business."
(Here the Squire bowed his head, by way of assent, to the court.)
"The court orter say, further, that Mr. Turtle's affidavit was sworn to, and how he could have sworn to such an affidavit, right agin the return of the justis', was mor'n he know'd; perhaps Mr. Turtle know'd himself, and could inform the court."
Mr. Turtle said that was his business. Mr. Turtle spoke very short, for he was greatly nettled.
The court said, "it didn't make any difference – it warn't neither here nor thar – the p'ints were all squashed, and that was his decision; costs to go agin Turtle."
"Agin Turtle," exclaimed Ike, rising, "costs agin Turtle!"
"Agin Turtle's client," said the court, correcting himself.
"That sounds a leetle more like a court of justis'," added Ike; "but it was a bull-head decision, he would say that, if he rotted in jail for contempt, that is, if anybody could commit contempt agin such a bass-wood-headed court, as this had got-ter be!"
A jury was now about to be impanelled to try the case between Filkins and Beadle a second time, and this was no small matter. The whole county had heard of this remarkable suit, and had talked about it, and each person had allied himself or herself to the parties. A very small matter will throw a new country into a tempest of excitement, as a very few matters of importance exist to get excited about. When the panel was filled, and the clerk had announced that fact to the court, Ike saw, or thought he saw, some of the most violent Beadle men in the county among the number. He had only two peremptory challenges, and if he could not remove some of them for "cause," as the books say, "he was gone up," as he thought to himself.
Mr. Buzzlebaum, a hickory-headed farmer, with short hair, which stuck up all over his head like a porcupine's quills, was a very dangerous man. Ike knew he was a bachelor, and he had been strongly suspected of "paying some attention" to Miss Beadle; so Ike put a few questions to Mr. Buzzlebaum.
"Mr. Buzzlebaum," exclaimed Ike, "you a juryman in this case?"
Mr. Buzzlebaum said he was.
"Y – e – s," drawled Ike, "so I see," as if he had got on the panel fraudulently some way.
"Know Miss Beadle?"
"Yes!"
"You do know the 'oman then?"
"Yes!"
"Sot up at her house any?"
"Sot up!"
"Yes, sot up; don't you know what that is by this time, at your time-er life, Mr. Buzzlebaum?"
"Well, what of it?" asked Mr. Buzzlebaum.
"What – of – it! Je-ru-sa-lem!" exclaimed Ike, slapping a book on the table, and looking fury at the court. "The man says 'what of it?' – sittin' up with the defendant nights a-courtin' her, and then wants to know what of it? Wouldn't he be a pretty man to try this case?"
"Sot up where?" inquired Buzzlebaum.
"How do I know where! Ever talk of marryin' the 'oman, hey?"
"Wal!" heaved Buzzlebaum.
"No wals here; you're sworn now; out with it. Didn't you tell old Soper, if she warn't so old and rusty-like, you'd strike, hit or miss? What, sir?"
"Wal!" groaned Buzzlebaum again.
"Guilty as a dog; won't answer; is a-goin'-ter die game, right inter the face of the court," exclaimed Ike.
Mr. Buzzlebaum began to scratch his head, and just got an idea of what "sot up" meant, and declared, "he'd never sot up with Miss Beadle, nor nobody else, but he warn't goin' to answer any more questions;" and asking another juryman for his hat, which stood among a huddle of hats outside the jury-box, "leaned" for the door, amid the cries of the court, clerk, Bates, &c., of "hold on," "don't go," "stop him," "bring him back, sheriff," &c. But Buzzlebaum didn't return.
The next juryman who Ike thought was "dang-rous," was Mr. Tumbleton.
"Mr. Tumbleton," exclaimed Ike, "form'd or 'spressed any 'pinion in this case?"
"No, sir!"
"Hain't form'd nor 'spressed any?"
"No, sir!"
"Hain't said that you hop'd the old maid would come out hunk?"
"No, sir!"
"Hain't said that Turtle was a jackass for pushin' on this 'ere suit?"
"No, sir!"
"Hain't thought he was?"
"Sir?"
"Pretty clus questions," said Mr. Tumbleton, balancing on one leg, and looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling.
"Now don't you think – and haven't you said, that Turtle was a jackass for pushin' on this suit?" inquired Ike, rising from his chair.
"No, sir! – haven't said any such thing."
"Don't you think he is, is the question, Mr. Tumbleton?"
"Think you are a jackass!" repeated the juror.
"Yes, sir!"
"Very likely I do."
Mr. Turtle submitted to the court, if that "warn't 'nough to break him from sittin'."
Mr. Bates said, "the man show'd his good sense – best juryman on the whole panel."
The court thought the juryman was entitled to his own opinion; it was not pos-i-tive proof that Turtle was a jackass 'cause the juryman might have thought so; shouldn't drive him out the box for that.
"Ever been in state-prison?" continued Turtle, resuming the examination.
"S – i – r!" ejaculated Mr. Tumbleton, moving towards Ike, with his arm raised.
"Or, in the county jail," added Ike, almost in time, and cocking his eye saucily at Mr. Tumbleton.
Mr. Tumbleton rushed upon Ike, and upset him, before Ike knew that he really was in danger.
Mr. Turtle rose in a very unruffled manner for him, and asked the court, "if sich a contempt as that was to go unnoticed – a reg'lar admitted 'torney assaulted right inter the face of the court – he moved that Mr. Tumbleton be confined in the log jail for twenty-four hours – out of respect to his honor the court."
The judge ordered Mr. Tumbleton to be confined, and thus the second juror was disposed of.
"You live up on Poverty Common – don't you?" continued Ike, as if nothing had happened, addressing himself to a runt of a man, who looked as if he had been on short feed, and who had strayed on the jury no one knew how.
"Yes, I do," answered the man.
"Your name is Flummer?"
"Flum what?" inquired the juror.
"Flum-mer," answered Ike, tartly.
"Well, whose business is that, if it is?"
"Mine," said Ike. "Wasn't old Zeb Flummer your grandfather?"
"Old Zeb? yes."
"Didn't old Zeb Flummer marry old Sally Beadle?"
"That's what they say."
"And wasn't old Sally Beadle, Charity Beadle's grandmother?"
"S'pose so," said Flummer.
"Well, sir, you can just step out," said Turtle; "the statert cuts you short-bob-off; no blood relatives sit here." And the court seemed to assent, and Flummer left – nine jurymen remaining in the box.
Bates "knocked off" three more for "causes," leaving six; and by this time the first day was about exhausted. Talesmen were picked up from the by-standers to supply the places of the "missing," and the court adjourned.
On the next day, Ike opened the cause in his best style. He gave a biography of Philista Filkins, and dwelt upon her ups and downs in this mortal life. "He did s'pose, that if there ever was a woman that had grief, and stood it, too, 'twas his client, and she was nothin' but a woman, nuther. She lik'd to gone off with the measles when she was a child, and had been puny-like ever since; her father was kill'd by an oak-tree 'fore she could do anythin' for herself, down on the Catta-ra-gus, leaving a pile of young-uns, he didn't know how many. Her father warn't rich, but that warn't neither here nor thar; he was honest, and paid up his debts afore he died, to the last cent; he was a man that struggled a good deal for a livin', but he got it; allers kept a stiff upper lip, as tho' the skies were bright, and the sailin' good. Arter he died, they were a most distressed family. His client, 'bout the year – 'bout the year – [Ike stopped and scratched his head] – 'bout the year – [he had forgotten when, and turning, exclaimed to Aunt Sonora], When in thunder was it that Miss Filkins came inter the settlement?"
"Wal, now, let me think," answered Aunt Sonora, – "Brumijim's youngest boy died – died – when did he die? – but no matter – but when we bought our brindle cow – we got her of old lame Gosander, and I recollect jist as well as if it was yesterday, that when my boy Jim was drivin' off that 'ere cow from Gosander's – one warm spring mornin' – that he tell'd me, arter he got home, that he met some strang-ers on the road – and I axed him who they were? And Jim said – "
"When – in thunder —was it?" ejaculated Ike again, who hung suspended in the middle of his speech, while the old lady was fogging away over the history of the past.
"I was jist a-goin' to tell you! You needn't get so fluster'd 'bout it," answered Aunt Sonora – "where was I – O, yes! Jim said, when I axed him – that he didn't know who they were – guess'd 'twas sumbody that was movin' in to settle – he tell'd me that the woman had on an old legun bunnit – and arterwards I found out that that very woman was Philista Filkins. Now you've got it," concluded Aunt Sonora.
As Ike was no wiser than he was before, and he could not wait to investigate the point any further, he proceeded: "At any rate, his client came inter Puddleford, and had been one of the fust 'mong 'em ever sin'. He warn't goin' to repeat what he said afore the court below, now, he would wait 'til he summ'd up. He warn't goin' to say nothin' 'bout the unspotted character of his client; he warn't goin' to say nothin' 'bout the defendant nuther. He warn't a-goin' to say how she would lie, nor how she went around a-backbitin' everybody she could get a dab at; there were twenty persons within the sound of his voice that know'd that – that know'd the woman like a book."
"Yes, sir-ee!" exclaimed a voice from the crowd, being one of Filkins' supporters.
"Silence!" roared the court.
"You hear that, don't you, gentlemen? They know her like a book."
"No! he warn't goin' to say anythin' 'bout the defendant now. He might say enough 'bout her to blow her sky-high; perhaps she wouldn't steal, he didn't think she would, but folks who do lie, will steal; but she hadn't stole nothin' yet, as he know'd on; he warn't goin' to say so 'tany rate;" and thus Ike rambled on for more than an hour before the jury, in the opening of his cause, touching upon almost everything connected with the rise of Puddleford, and closed by saying, "That they only claimed ten dollars damages; but 'twern't the money they were arter; 'twas the great principle; his client scorned money as pay for her character; she'd never touch a cent on't so long as her name was Filkins – and he might as well say that he, as her counsel, had 'vised her to give every jot on't to some religus institution, or to orphin children, and she'd do it too – catch her takin' that money!"
Bates occupied about as much time as Turtle did in opening for the defence; the law permitting both counsel to open together, if they chose to do so; and he finished his speech by reading Squire Longbow's return to the jury, which he said was more full than anything he could say.
The trial went forward. But I shall not attempt to detail the vicissitudes which accompanied it for two days. Every question and every answer was objected to, and entered by the court formally on the record. The lie was given backward and forward a dozen times or more; the court had often been obliged to interfere through the sheriff – all the witnesses on the part of the plaintiff were impeached by the defendant's witnesses, who swore their reputation for truth and veracity was bad, and that they would not believe them under oath; all the witnesses on the part of the defendant were also impeached for the same reason. Of course the reputation of the witnesses had been utterly destroyed before the trial came on, and long before, by each backbiting the other; and when the trial closed, and the arguments were ended, the case, if it could have been painted, would have looked very much like a militia training, without beginning, middle, or end, form or substance, and the jury were about as wise as if they just awoke from a hard nightmare.
The court charged the jury – and such a charge was never "fired off" by any man outside of a new country.
Some hundred "p'ints of la'" had been handed up by Turtle and Bates, which they said must be noticed – but Turtle's law and Bates's law were in conflict – but each one declared that his law was the law – and they were, they said, ready, if necessary, to swear to it before any tribunal.
The judge went off with his charge upon the same principle that a man fires an old musket into a tree, where he supposes a bird is concealed. Some of the shot must hit, and the rest won't do any harm, anyhow.
He told the jury that he had got somethin' to say now – he was the judge of the court, and the jury must pay special attention to what he had to offer. 'Torneys were paid for their talk, and the jury could believe 'em jest so far as they were a mind-ter and no furder – the law come from him – if he made a mistake in the law, it was none of the jury's business, that would be straightened out somewhere else, by somebody else. He would proceed now. The action was trespass.
"Not by a long shot!" said Turtle, rising.
"Or," continued the judge, "a-kinder trespass – it was one woman a-tryin' to carry away another woman's character. Now, gentlemen, there has been a great deal of evidence in this case, and it don't all 'mount to much nuther – "
"'Cept to that part of the charge!" exclaimed Ike. "'Don't 'mount to much nuther."
"That is," continued the judge, "there ain't much on't to the p'int – and when evidence ain't to the p'int, the court will knock it outer the case, if a row of 'ceptions is filed as long as the moral law. Now take the impeaching testimony – what does that all amount to? – why just this: – Filkins' witnesses don't believe Beadle's witnesses, and so they swear – Beadle's witnesses don't believe Filkins' witnesses, and so they swear – and so the witnesses on one side are just as good as the witnesses on t'other side, and you must believe them all, just as fur, gentlemen of the jury, as if none of 'em had been impeached; and the court tells you so. Any objection to that, Mr. Turtle?"
Turtle said nothing.
"No objection to that, then. Now, then, gentlemen, the defendant below set off slanderous words agin slanderous words she had used agin the plaintiff, and I let it in agin here, and Mr. Turtle objected. Gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Turtle would object, of course – he is 'torney for plaintiff, but I tell you the set-off is law, and I agree with Squire Longbow, who let it in. It was right."
Squire Longbow drew his handkerchief and blew a heavy blast out of his nose at this compliment.
"Now, then, gentlemen, slander is slander – you all know what slander is – as I said before, it is slander – it ain't refusing to pay one's debts – it ain't 'zactly takin' one's property – though character is a kinder property – it ain't stealin' – but – but – it is slander – if you lie 'bout me, 'tis slander – if I lie 'bout you, 'tis slander – if anybody lies 'bout anybody, 'tis slander – it don't matter what anybody says 'bout anybody, if 'tis a lie, 'tis slander. You can now see, gentlemen of the jury, what slander is – how the law looks at slander – how it is laid down in the books. This action is for slander – and if I should examine all the books, and go inter the hull subject fully, you would not know any more 'bout slander, gentlemen, than you know 'bout slander now. Any objection to that, Mr. Turtle?"
No objection was raised.
"Now, then," continued the court, "you're to look the evidence all over, and if you b'lieve the plaintiff has slandered the defendant – I say, if you b'lieve it – the court has its own notions on that subject too – but 'tain't for the court to say – I say, if you b'lieve, gentlemen, the plaintiff has slander'd the defendant – if you b'lieve it upon your oaths – you're under oath, gentlemen – you should never forget you're under oath, gentlemen – very solemn duty, gentlemen, you've got-to perform – I say if– after looking all the testimony all over, you b'lieve it on your oaths – why, then, gentlemen, the court tells you, gentlemen, that you must render a verdict for the plaintiff, gentlemen, you must. But if, gentlemen – and here comes the p'int – the great p'int for you to consider, gentlemen, under oath – if you b'lieve the defendant has not slandered the plaintiff, gentlemen – it's a hard charge, slander is, gentlemen – if you b'lieve the defendant has not slandered the plaintiff, why, then, render the verdict for the defendant. Mr. Clerk, swear an officer to take charge of this jury."
The jury retired and deliberated one day and one night – but could not agree. They returned into court, and were again charged on some law points, about which they differed, they said – they retired again, and after quarrelling another half a day, came into court once more, and declared they differed this time about the evidence. The court set them right upon the particular disputed point of testimony, as he understood it, when they appeared a third time, and the foreman announced that they could not agree any way, and they wouldn't go out again for the court, or anybody else – and thus forever was ended the famous trial between Filkins and Beadle.