|THEY took the School-teacher into the courthouse early in the morning.
The county seat of this mountain county was nothing more than a village,
lying in the foothills. The courthouse stood in a grove of oak trees, in
the middle of the village. It was a two-story structure. On the ground
floor was the jail in the custody of the sheriff.
The second floor was the courthouse.
This second story was entered exclusively from without. Broad stone
steps led up to a portico, on which stood round, plaster-covered pillars
supporting the projecting roof. On either side, entering between these
pillars, were the offices of the county and circuit clerks. Beyond
was the court room filled with benches. A portion of this room at the
farther end was separated from the benches by a railing. Within it were
chairs and two tables for attorneys, a desk for the clerk, and a raised
platform, ascended by steps on either side, for the judge.
It was the custom of the judges traveling on these mountain circuits to
open court as early as eight o'clock in the morning, and before that, if
they were come into the court room, to hear informally motions and the
like.
When they brought the School-teacher into the courthouse, the sheriff,
the doctor, the minister, the old trustee who had ridden down out of the
mountains in his cart, were already there.
The deputy and Jonas led the Schoolteacher inside the railing. Then they
sat down. The School-teacher remained standing.
The hearing before the circuit judge followed the informal custom of
these mountain circuits.
The School-teacher made no defense.
He stood before the bench. The early sunlight of the morning, entering
through the high windows, fell on his face, on his soft brown hair, on
his deep gray-blue eyes, on his clothing covered with the dust of the
road.
The judge heard the oral evidence in open court, He inquired into
the service of the restraining order, and the prisoner's subsequent
disregard of it. But he was not convinced. The prisoner's conduct seemed
inconsistent with an intent to resist the State's title to these lands.
Moreover, the silence, the calm demeanor, the strange personality of the
prisoner, profoundly impressed him. He felt that some ulterior motive
lay behind the cover of this accusation.
At this moment a woman appeared at the door of the courthouse and
sent in a note to the judge. This note was sealed in an envelope and
addressed in a fine hand. The judge opened it at once. When he had
read it, he sat for some time looking down at the prisoner. He did not
believe in dreams; but the insistence of his wife impressed him.
He turned to the sheriff, and inquired if there was a man in the
courtroom who knew anything about the prisoner.
The sheriff indicated the others near him.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he replied, “the minister, the school trustee of that
district, and the doctor here, all know about him. He seems to have made
himself generally troublesome to the community. I believe the justice
of the peace had issued a warrant against him for practicing medicine
without a license.”
When the circuit judge heard of this action of the justice, he ordered
the School-teacher to be taken before that official. He said that if
the justice of the peace has issued a warrant antedating the _rule_, he
would yield to him the custody of the prisoner.
They took the School-teacher out of the courthouse and across the
village street to the office of the justice of the peace.
The justice was greatly pleased when the deputy and Jonas came in with
the prisoner. A good many stories had drifted down from the mountains to
him concerning the miraculous cures which this man had effected, and he
was anxious to see him. He removed his spectacles, put them carefully
into a tin case, set his feet on the rounds of a chair and, after
having thus made himself comfortable, he requested the School-teacher to
explain to him in detail, exactly how he had accomplished the marvels of
which he had heard.
The School-teacher did not reply.
He remained standing as he had stood before the circuit judge. His
head lifted. The features of his face unmoving. His deep gray-blue eyes
tilled with a tranquil, melancholy light.
When the justice of the peace saw that his curiosity was not likely to
be gratified, he, at once, sent the prisoner back to the circuit judge.
He took this act of the judge to be a delicate courtesy, a tender regard
for the jurisdictional rights of an inferior tribunal, and he was not
to be outdone. In several instances the circuit judge had recently
curtailed his jurisdiction, and he had been smarting under it. This act
was a friendly overture, and he hastened to evidence his appreciation of
it.
He returned the prisoner, saying that as his warrant had not been
served, his jurisdiction had not attached, and the prisoner was
exclusively in the custody of the circuit court. Moreover, that he would
hold his warrant in abeyance until the circuit court had disposed of the
case.
When the School-teacher came again before the circuit judge, that
official no longer hesitated to indicate his opinion. He said that the
prisoner did not seem disposed to contest the state's title to these
lands, that he appeared to have taken up his residence in Nicholas
Parks' house anterior to the date of the order, and upon some verbal
direction of the decedent; that while there was here perhaps a technical
contempt, he was not certain that it was intended, and consequently that
he was disposed to dismiss the prisoner.
The minister, the sheriff, the doctor, the old school trustee, under
this informal procedure, came forward with a protest. They said that the
School-teacher was a person dangerous to the community; that he had set
himself against the authority of the state in disregarding the order of
the court; that he had set himself against the authority of the county
by disregarding the notice placed on the schoolhouse door; that he had
openly violated the law in practicing medicine without a license; that
he harbored immoral persons, and encouraged the children in acts of
irreverence.
The judge endeavored to compromise with this opposition. He said that
he would reprimand the prisoner, suspend sentence and release him on his
own recognizance.
The general protest now took on a definite form. The minister spoke for
the others. He was little accustomed to the diplomacy of the advocate
and he thinly disguised the threat that was the tenor of this speech.
He said that one in the position of a circuit judge ought to sustain
the better elements of the community in their efforts to get rid of an
undesirable person; that the will of the people was not lightly to be
disregarded; that the object of making offices elective was that one
who refused to consider what the people desired might be replaced by
another; and the like.
The judge came up presently for reelection. It was notice to him that
the powerful elements which these protesting persons represented would
hold him to account. The strength of his political party lay in these
mountain counties. He required the support of these elements. And he
especially feared a sectarian sentiment against him. He knew the danger
of such a sentiment; and how little, once on its way, explanations would
avail. This covert threat angered the judge, but he feared to resist
it. He dipped his pen into the inkpot before him, and wrote an order
committing the prisoner to the county jail. Then he handed it down to
the sheriff.
The persons standing about the sheriff drew near to him and read the
order. The minister and the school trustee objected to something in the
body of the writing, and the sheriff went with them to the judge.
They pointed out that the order directed the commitment of the
“Schoolteacher of Hickory Mountain District,” that this term was
incorrect, that the prisoner had not been employed by the trustees, that
he was not the School-teacher of Hickory Mountain District, and that the
order ought not so to designate him.
But the judge, smarting under the lash that had been laid on him, was in
no mood to receive a further dictation.
He refused to change what he had written.