_2d Clown_. But is this law?
_1st Clown_. Ay, marry is 't; crowner's-quest law.
HAMLET.
We draw a curtain over the scene of distress displayed in Gilbert's
Folly, when the body of Henry Falconer, late the gayest of its
inmates, was laid at the feet of his father and sister; and pass to
that which followed, when a justice of the peace, acting in the place
of a coroner, assembled a jury of inquest around the bloody couch, to
determine from the melancholy story of the dead, the fatal
responsibility of the living. The official was a personage who
exercised, along with the duties of a magistrate, the equally
dignified functions of mine host of the Green Tree Tavern; and was,
indeed, no less a man than that rival of Elsie Bell, whose formidable
opposition, many years before, had completed the downfall of the
Traveller's Rest. He was now a man of substance, portly in person,
and inflated by the dignity of office into a certain dignity of
manner; his step was like the roll of a ship, and when he breathed,
it was with a forcible and majestic expiration of breath, like the
snort of a war-horse. He had been noticed, as he advanced in the
world, for the independence,--or, to speak more strictly, the tyranny
with which he conducted himself among his guests; not, indeed, that
he ever beat, or even committed them, as, in virtue of his office, he
might have done; but because, as he said, he heartily 'despised peing
pottered mit 'em.' He was not austere or quarrelsome of disposition,
but he was a lover of his ease in his inn; and his despotism was
shown less in violent opposition than in contemptuous indifference of
all humours save his own. He abhorred all fault-finding, but as he
equally detested the trouble of reprehending it, he devised a scheme
by which discontent was either nipped in the bud, or severely
reproved as soon as made manifest, and all without any labour on his
own part. He caused to be painted on his sign-board, having daubed
off the green tree to make room for it, the following cabalistic
legend,--
_Der ist glücklich, welcher zufrieden ist._
which he was accustomed to translate, _viva voce_, to all incapable
of understanding it, in a quaternion as remarkable for its expressive
simplicity as for its philosophic comprehensiveness:
He vich is vise
Neffer grumples nor cries;
He vich is neither vise nor ciffil
May go to the diffil.
This,--that is to say, the original morceau,--as he justly conceived,
contained a standing answer for all grumblers, and by being in such a
conspicuous situation, served as a warning to them beforehand; while,
at the same time, if a guest chanced to forget its existence, it only
needed the philosophic Schlachtenschlager (for that was the
dignitary's name,) to point to it with his finger, and demand, 'Fat
does that mean?' to bring him to reason. At all events, his
translation was always at hand, in case of extremity, and was of such
supreme efficacy in laying all evil spirits by the heels, that he
used to declare with triumph, 'It fas neffer needs to say it twice.'
Such was the functionary who now introduced his assistants into the
chamber of death, exulting in his own importance and his success in
completing the number against all the difficulties resulting from the
confusion into which the county had been thrown by the second
appearance of the refugees.
"I do afer, on my faith, gentlemen," he said, wiping his brows, as he
entered, "I had more trouple making you up than is goodt for nothing.
As for that Jake Sheeps fat run afay, I fill commit him, the
fillain."
"Ay, Squire, when you catch him," said one of the party, who,
although as coarse in appearance as the others, (all being, save
himself, ordinary farmers and ignoramuses, such as could be picked up
in a hurry,) but who soon proved himself possessed of more brain than
all the others together,--"when you catch him, Squire. But harkee,
Schlachtenschlager; concerning this forcing _me_ on a jury of
inquest,--'tis a sort of a breach of privilege. As an attorney at
law, I should be considered exempt; for if there's no statute for
exemption, why there's custom, my old boy, and I'll mulct you in
damages. Botheration, Squire, you should know enough law to steer
clear of a lawyer."
"T'at for your law!" said the magistrate, "and your lawyer too: I
knows my pusiness. And if you grumples and calls me 'old poy,' it
vill pe vorse for you; for old poy means the tyfel, and if you calls
me tyfel, mine friend Affidafy"----
"Tush," said the lawyer, "it means no such thing. But as you have
nabbed me, why make haste with this stupid business, and be done.
Look at the body, guess your guess out, and let me be gone."
"'He vich is vise,'"--
muttered the justice; but was interrupted by Mr. Affidavy crying,
bluffly,
"The devil take your verses. Come, let's to business. Now, Squire,
you 'know your business,'--you never, I reckon, held an inquest
before in your life;--how do you begin?"
"How do I pegin?" said the official, scratching his head; "fy, I
reckons, ve must have a talk apout it, and then say, the man vas
murdtered."
"The deuce you must? Why that's prejudging the case altogether. How
do you know the man was murdered? where's your witnesses?"
"Vitnesses!" said Schlachtenschlager; "fy, I reckons the case is
clear enough mitout 'em."
"Ah, I thought you'd say so," cried the other; "but that won't do.
Where's the murderer?"
"Vy, I committed him."
"Where's the prisoner, Dancy Parkins?"
"Vy, I committed him along mit the other."
"Where's the informant, that vagabond--(I reckon, he'll be a witness
for the Commonwealth)--that stripe-coat fellow,
Stirk--Stick,--no,--Sterling's his name?"
"Vy, I committed him, too."
"The devil you did? Well, where are the officers, the soldiers, the
volunteers, and all the rest that were present?"
"Vy, chasing the refugees, to pe sure."
"Well, so I thought. Now, I'll tell you what you'll have to do: just
send off as fast as you can for that fellow Sterling, and Dancy, and
half a dozen others, and adjourn till they come; which will give me
time to run down to the Traveller's Rest, and administer on old Elsie
Bell's estate, or see what there is to administer on."
"Administer on old Elsie? fat the tyfel! is the old fitch teadt?"
"As dead as a herring," said Affidavy; "and there's another job for
you. They say, some one told her, the defunct here, Colonel
Falconer's son, was shot by young Gilbert; and the harridan
screeched, and fell dead with fright."
"Mine soul!" said the justice, "they're all tying. There's the
Captain's daughter here,--they say she's tying too. I vant to take
her teposition; but Dr. Muller says she can n'ither speak nor hear."
"Well," said the attorney, "you see there's nothing to be done here
at present. So, adjourn's the word, and down to hold an inquest on
old Elsie. She has been looking up in the world lately, and they say
she'll leave something. I intend therefore to administer, or see
about it--and by the way, Squire, we may discover something there in
relation to the murderer. He lived in her house; and, there's no
doubt, the tories made it a place of rendezvous. We can come up here
and finish afterwards."
"Fell, I don't know," said Schlachtenschlager; "it's all vone, except
for the trouple of going and coming. But fere's Jake Musser?" he
added, in sudden alarm; "I declare ve're not all here!--Fy, Jake,
fere have you peen?" he continued, as the individual, whose absence
he had just discovered, entered the apartment.
"Vy, at Elsie Pell's;--I stopped a moment to get a trink; but old
Elsie vas sick, and the plack girl vas in a fear, and"----
"Sick!" cried Affidavy, "a'n't the old goose dead? 'Pshaw! why then
we'll go on with the inquest, and say no more about it. I thought
there was a job there for somebody; but, it seems, it is only for the
doctor. Well, Squire, are you ready?"
"Yes," said the official; "but now, Mr. Affidafy, fat shall we do for
witnesses?"
"Tush," said the man of law, "that's neither here nor there."
"Fy, you said, it wouldn't do mitout 'em!"
"Oh, that's according to circumstances, and here we have
circumstances enough to hang the whole county."
"Fell, then," said the magistrate, "we'll pring it in a case of
murder. Are you all agreedt? Fat says you, Peter Pork?"
"Why, I dunna," said Peter, "but I reckon so."
"Fat says you, Thomas Pork?"
"Why, I dunna; but I go with Peter."
"Fat says you, Jacob Musser?"
"Fy, the same: but I reckon the Captain mought send us up something
to dtrink.--It's a very pretty pody."
"Never mind the pody, Jacob. Fat says you, Jack Darpy?"
"Why, I'm no so clear in the matter;--I'm ag'in' all hanging."
"Fy, that's none on your pusiness," said the magistrate, assuming an
air of dignity; "for you see, John, the coroner's jury is not the
hanging jury."
"Well, Squire," said the nonconformist, "I reckon I know that as well
as any body. But, you see, I've had a talk with the quakers on this
matter, and I'm coming to think it's ag'in' the law of scriptur' to
bring a man to the gallows. And you see, the matter all rests on our
shoulders; for if we say murder for our 'quest, why then the grand
jury sings the same song for their indictment, and the petty jury
just follows suit. It's just like sticking three bricks on an end; if
you kick one, why down goes the second, and clack goes t'other. And
moresomover, what Squire Affidavy says I stick to: I don't know the
man's murdered, not an iota, without some one to swear on black and
white."
"Fy, take a look at him, John," said the Squire in a heat; "he's
deadt, a'n't he? and he has a pig hole in his neck, ha'n't he? and
fat more fould you haff? You're always preeding trouble, John Darpy!"
"Well, I dunna," said John; "the man mought ha' shot himself; for
they say he was a peeler at the bottle, for such a young un; and when
folks drinks, there's no saying what'll come of it: it's just as much
as saying, 'Clear the course, here goes for the devil!--Squire
Affidavy, what do you say to that?"
"Hem"--replied the man of law, looking at his elbows, which were
somewhat of the whitest, with an attempt at humour, that faded in a
moment before a look of sullenness and anger, "I say, that you're a
fool, though you stumble upon wisdom now and then by accident. But
none of your sly winks and blinks: we all know you have not brain
enough for drinking. But stop; we've carried this joke far enough,
and the fun is over. Send down stairs for the girl Phoebe Jones: she
was on the ground when the shot was fired, and we must take her
testimony."
"Fy, now I remember, so she fas," muttered the magistrate; but added,
with a sigh like the sough of north-wester, "Put it is a great
trouple to swear a voman."
The testimony of Phoebe was, however, by no means so satisfactory as
was expected. It is true, she professed herself able to swear that
Mr. Hunter Hiram Gilbert shot Mr. Falconer; but it soon appeared she
was as ready to swear he had shot herself, and some dozen other
unfortunate persons into the bargain. In truth, the dreadful
conclusion of an adventure which she had been brought, at one moment,
almost to consider an innocent and agreeable frolic,--the condition
of her mistress, from whose bed-side she had been summoned,--and the
spectacle of the ghastly corse of the bridegroom before her eyes,
more than half turned her brain. She answered therefore by yea and
nay, and just as the question indicated the reply; until Mr.
Affidavy, a man of some little tact in his profession, although low
and debauched habits had ruined his prospects and reputation
together, thought fit to interfere, and by a little management, made
it obvious, even to the dull brain of Schlachtenschlager, that the
girl, although an actor in the tragedy, knew no more of its details
from her own observation, than they themselves.
They were relieved from their dilemma, however, by the sudden
appearance of lieutenant Brooks, who delivered a brief and clear
account of the catastrophe, as far as he had witnessed it himself;
and his testimony left it no longer to be doubted that the
unfortunate defunct had fallen in consequence of a pistol-shot fired
from a weapon in the hands of Hyland Gilbert. He produced the
instrument, which, as well as the pistol discharged by the deceased,
he had picked from the ground, and now delivered, along with their
fellows, and a pair taken from Sterling, to the magistrate, averring
that they were in the condition in which he had found them.
"A very pretty pistol," said the official; "but how is this Mr.
Lieutenant? did the young fellow fire them all?"
The soldier stared his honour in the face, and smiled; but his eye
fell on the body of his friend, and the flash of humour faded into
clouds.
"This weapon," said he, touching one, "I presume to be that by which
Mr. Falconer was slain. It was picked from the ground by Mr.
Gilbert's side; the fellow to it, was found in the holsters attached
to Gilbert's saddle. This," he added, pointing to another, "belonged
to my unfortunate friend, and was that with which he shot at the
prisoner."
"Fat!" cried the official, "did _he_ shoot, too?"
"Undoubtedly: I plainly distinguished two explosions, the one
immediately after the other."
"Fy then, mine Gott!" said Schlachtenschlager, looking round upon his
assistants with an air of unutterable sagacity, "this, mine friends,
does ferry much alter the case. It vas not murder, but a fight. Who
fires the pistol first?"
"Sir, that is impossible to say. But allow me to suggest a doubt
whether that is necessary to be inquired into. With deference, I
should suppose the object of this inquest would be simply to
determine who shot the pistol that killed the deceased; leaving all
other questions to be determined by other tribunals."
"'Pshaw!" said Affidavy, who seemed to derive no little private
amusement from the ignorance of the magistrate, when suffered to run
its own course; "you have spoiled the sport. The young gentleman is,
however, right, Squire, and"--
"Holdt your tongue, Mr. Affidafy, and let me mindt mine own
pusiness," said the magistrate, in some wrath; "sure I know fat I am
about! And hark ye, Mr. Witness, you are a very goodt young man, and
an officer, and a gentleman; put you must not tell me fat I am to do,
nor fat I am not to do."
"Surely not," replied the witness; "I will not be so presumptuous."
"Right; you are a very goodt young man, and an officer, and a
gentleman; and you have very goodt sense.--Fat do you think I must
say in this case? for, mine Gott, it puzzles me! Mine own opinion is,
that somepody shot this young man."
"It cannot be doubted, sir."
"And that that somepody fas him fat shot the pistol fat fas _not_
shot by the young man fat fas shot."
"Very true, sir."
"Ferry fell, sir," continued the official, with dignity; "now show me
the man, and you shall hear fat I have to say for mine inquest in no
time."
"The man you speak of is by this time lodged in the county prison
under a warrant issued by yourself. There were two pistols
discharged, one by the deceased, the other, as I can swear to the
best of my belief, by the prisoner; and I can bear witness in like
manner, that my unfortunate friend owes his death to the pistol
discharged by the prisoner."
"Fy then, the case is clear enough, and I vonder you couldn't say so
much before. Do you swear to all this?"
"I do."
"Fell now, come;--fat fas the reason of all this running afay, and
murdering?"
"That, I beg leave to suggest, is a question entirely irrelevant."
"Is it? Fell then, fy don't you answer it?"
"'Pshaw!" mumbled Affidavy, who was perhaps wearying of a sport he
did not himself direct. "Squire, you may discharge the witness: we
have laid our heads together and agreed upon a finding."
"Fat! mitout me?"
"Certainly. You don't think _you_ are to make the verdict?--The
witness will be pleased to retire," he added, and the lieutenant,
looking once more on the dead, immediately withdrew.
"We find, Squire," the attorney went on, "that the deceased came to
his death in consequence of a pistol-bullet shot into his neck by
Hyland Gilbert, otherwise called Herman Hunter. If you want to be
learned about jugulars, carotids, parotids, and so on, we will call
in Dr. Muller, and have him examine the wound."
"Fy, I don't know any thing about them things; put I don't see that
you say any thing apout murder?"
"Not a word: as you said yourself to Jack Darby here, the coroner's
jury is not the hanging jury."
"Fell now, the matter's finished, and I am ferry glad. I suppose it
is all right?"
"Entirely--the young Hawk is as dead as a chicken."
"It is a clear case then, Mr. Affidafy," said the dignitary, with a
long and tempestuous breath, indicating the satisfaction he felt at
being released from labours so overpowering, "they fill hang the
young fillain?"
"Why that depends upon circumstances, Squire."
"Oh the tyfel! it is all 'upon circumstances' mit a lawyer?"
"It is a good case on either side," said Affidavy; "and not so bad on
the prisoner's as might be supposed,--that is, if he had but money to
make it an object to take up his cause."
"Mine Gott, he has money! There fas his fatch; 'twas goldt, and worth
forty pound."
"Eh! indeed? has he a gold watch?"
"And there fas a purse of guineas"----
"Of guineas!"
"And there fas a--fat you call it?--a pill of exchange on New York,
and a letter of credit,--mine Gott, it fas mitout limit, except time;
put I toubt me, it fas not goodt."
"Botheration!" cried the man of law, in a fervour, "who'll lend me a
horse to ride to town? I remember now, there was a story that the
youngest son of the Gilberts had a rich aunt in Jamaica."
"Fell, if he had?"
"Why then, I'll certainly volunteer him the aid of my professional
skill; and, murder or no murder, I'll bring him off."
"You don't say so, Mr. Affidavy?"
"Botheration, I do. A letter of credit without limit? Who has it? did
you save it?"
"No; I gave it pack to him; put I took an inventory of all in his
pockets."
"Well, Squire, you're an honour to the profession. Lend me a horse."
"Fy, if I had you put down to the Creen Tree, and you fould promise
to keep soper"----
"Tush, I will. But let's be off, and in a hurry. You are a merciful
man, Squire Schlachtenschlager--It is a pity this poor friendless
young fellow should be hanged for nothing."
"That is, mitout paying nothing to the lawyer? Ho, ho!----Put it
toesn't do to laugh by a teadt pody, fen his fader, and moder, and
all his friends is feeping and crying. Fat is to pe done mit these
Hawks? Can't nopody catch pig Oran? I fill give one pound of mine own
money for refard; for, I do afer, he toes give me much trouple. Fell,
gentlemen, all is right. Now fill ve all go to the Creen Tree, and ve
shall have some prandy to dtrink. Fere is some pody to light mine
pipe? A fery padt piece of pusiness, and fery pottersome. I vonder
fere they fill pury the young man? Fell, gentlemen, let us pegone."