_Angelo_.--We must not make a scarecrow of the law,
Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it
Their perch, and not their terror.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
The events of the preceding evening caused quite a sensation in the
village. We shall better understand the various opinions and feelings
of the inhabitants by stepping, at about eleven o'clock the following
morning, into the shop, or, as it was called in those days, and would
generally be called now, the "store" of Truman and Jenkins. This was
an establishment at the foot of the hill, where it hung out its sign,
in company with several others of the same character, which professed
to supply all the wants of the community. Here everything was to be
had from a gallon of molasses to a skein of thread, or a quintal of
codfish, to a pound of nails. On one side, as you entered, were ranges
of shelves, protected by a counter, on which were exposed rolls of
flannels of divers colors, and calico and broadcloth, and other
"dry goods," while a showcase on the counter contained combs, and
tooth-brushes, and soaps, and perfumery, and a variety of other small
articles. The back of the store was used as a receptacle for hogsheads
of molasses, and puncheons of rum and wine, and barrels of whisky and
sugar. Overhead and on the posts were hung pails, and rakes, and iron
chains, and a thousand things necessary to the complete enjoyment of
civilization. On the other side was a small counting-room partitioned
off, with a door, the upper part of which was glass, for the
convenience of looking into the shop, in order to be ready to attend
to the wants of such customers as might come in. This little room,
scarcely eight feet square, contained a small close stove, around
which were gathered some half a dozen persons.
"I say, squire," exclaimed Tom Gladding, a tall, awkward, good-natured
looking fellow, with legs sprawling out, and heels on the top of the
stove, addressing himself to a man in a black suit, rather better
dressed than the others, "what do you think of this here rusty old
Father Holden cut up last night at Conference?"
Squire Miller, as one in authority, and who might be called to
adjudicate upon the case, and for other reasons of his own, was not
disposed to commit himself, he, therefore, cautiously replied, _more
Novo Anglicano_, by asking another question, "Were you there, Mr.
Gladding?"
"No," said Tom, laughing; "the old folks used to make me go so
regular, when I was a boy, I guess I've done my part. So after a while
I give it up."
"It is a pity you ever gave it up," said the squire. "You might get a
great deal of good from it."
"There's two opinions about that," said Tom. "You see, squire, as long
as mother was alive, I always went with her regular, 'cause it kind o'
comforted her, though somehow or other I never took to it. So when she
died I sort o' slacked off 'till now it's 'een amost two year since I
been in."
"They say," observed Mr. Jenkins, "they've took the old man up."
"I'm sorry for that," cried Tom. "To go to take up a kind o'
half-crazy man for speaking in meetin'!"
"Why," inquired the squire, "would you allow the man to go about
disturbing the neighbors as he pleased?"
"I never heard tell of his disturbing nobody," said Tom. "Just take
him off his notions about the ten vargins and their lamps, and the
judgment day, and I don't know a likelier man than old Holden. In my
opinion, he's a cleverer fellow than Davenport, by a long shot."
"I don't believe he's been caught," said a man in a pee-jacket,
who, from his appearance, was a fisherman. "I passed his island this
morning about sunrise, with a boatload of oysters, and I see the old
man at his door."
"Well," observed Mr. Jenkins, "I hope he isn't. It's enough to make
a body puke up his boots to hear Davenport, and I don't much blame
Holden for cutting him short."
"I heard somebody say," said Gladding, "that the old man shook his
fist right in old Davenport's face, and told him up and down he was a
good for nothing liar. I want to know if he can sue him, squire?"
"Why, as to that," answered Miller, who being appealed to on a
question of law, conceived it necessary to show his learning, "if a
man strikes at me within striking distance, I can sue him for assault,
though he shouldn't touch me. That I call one of the nice pints of the
law. I decided so myself in the case of Samuel Pond _versus_ Ezekiel
Backus. You see Pond and Backus had a little quarrel about some
potatoes Pond sold him, and Pond got mad, and told Backus he lied.
Backus is rather hasty, and doubled up his fist, and put it near
Pond's nose, and insinuated that if he said that again he would
knock him down." Here the squire paused, and looked round to see what
impression he was making on his audience, and the momentary silence
was taken advantage of by Gladding to observe:
"That Pond's a mean cuss."
The justice took no further notice of honest Tom's not very
complimentary remark than to cast at him a look of angry surprise,
which the other endured with complete indifference.
"So," continued Squire Miller, "Pond went to Lawyer Tippit, and he
brought the suit before me. Backus pleaded his own case, but he had a
fool for a client; the law was all against him, and I had to fine him
a dollar and cost."
"That's considerable to pay," exclaimed Tom, "just for skinning such
a fellow's nose as Sam Pond's (I've heard of the case afore), but you
ain't said nothing, squire, about calling a man a liar."
"Well," said Squire Miller, "that's what we call a mute point. I heard
the affirmative and negative argued once by Lawyer Ketchum and Lawyer
Tippit. Lawyer Tippit was the affirmative, and Lawyer Ketchum the
negative. Lawyer Tippit's principle was in _medio pessimus ibis_,
while Lawyer Ketchum held _qui facit per alien facit per se_. They,
therefore, couldn't agree, they were so wide apart, you see. So they
separated without either giving up, though I think Lawyer Tippit had a
little the best of the argument."
"Lawyer Tippit knows a thing or two," said the fisherman, in a low
tone.
Here Squire Miller handed to Mr. Jenkins twelve and a half cents, for
the four glasses of Jamaica he had drank, a portion of which some way
or other seemed to have got into his last speech, and took his leave.
He had hardly left the store when who should come in but Constable
Basset, bearing in his hand a black staff, "having a head with the
arms of the State thereon," the badge of his office, as provided by
law, and which he was required to carry "upon proper occasions." Some
such occasion had, in the judgment of the constable, evidently arisen,
else it would not now be forthcoming.
He was a bullet-headed, carroty-haired little fellow, with a snub nose
and eyes so diminutive and deeply sunken, that but for the sparks of
light they emitted, they would have been undiscernible. The expression
of his face was like that of a wiry terrier, being derived partly from
his occupation, which, in his opinion, required him to be as vigilant
in spying out offenders as the aforesaid peppery animal, in scenting
vermin, and being partly the gift of nature. But though the person of
Basset was small, such was not his opinion of himself. That was in an
inverse ratio to his size, and at once the source of his highest joys,
and, sooth to say, of an occasional mortification. But the former
greatly preponderated, and, on the whole, it was a pleasure to
a benevolent mind to look at him, if for no other reason than to
consider how much enjoyment there may be in ignorance.
As soon as Gladding set his eyes on the constable, he hailed him:
"Here, Basset," he cried, "what are you going to do this morning with
that are stick?"
The constable did not much relish hearing the badge of an office which
he esteemed one of the most important in the State thus lightly spoken
of and degraded to a common stick; he, therefore, replied somewhat
shortly--
"I guess, Mr. Gladding, you don't see the head of my staff, do ye?"
"Don't I?" said Gladding. "I know old
Authority-by-the-State-of-Connecticut a mile off, without seeing his
head, I rather think. But what are you up to now?"
Basset, who, though no Solomon, had too much wit to admit every one
into his confidence, answered:
"O, nothing; I was only looking for Squire Miller."
"Why," said Gladding, "he only left the store a minute ago. I say
Basset, you got a warrant agin old Holden?"
"Why," said Basset, "what makes you ask?"
"Because," replied Gladding, mischievously, who strongly suspecting an
intention to arrest Holden, and knowing the constable's cowardice,
was determined to play upon his fears, "I shouldn't like to be in your
skin when you go for to take him."
"I'd like to see the man what would dare to resist when I showed him
my authority," said the constable. "I guess I'd make him cry copeevy
in less than no time."
"Well," said Gladding, who all this while had been leisurely whittling
a bit of white pine, "well, Basset, you know your own business best,
and I'm not a man to interfere. My principle is, let every man skin
his own skunks. You haint no wife nor children, have you?"
"No," said Basset. "What makes you ask?"
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I always think it judgmatical, you see,
to choose a man for constable who haint got no family; 'cause, if any
accident should happen, 'twouldn't be of so much consequence."
"I don't catch your meaning clear," said Basset.
"You'll catch it clear enough, I guess," answered Gladding, "if Holden
gits hold o' ye."
"Now, Tom Gladding, you needn't think you're going to frighten _me_,"
cried Basset, on whom the charm was beginning to work.
"I never had sich an idea," said Tom. "But folks does say he's a
desperate fighting character. Did you never hear tell of Kidd the
pirate, and his treasures, ever so much gold and silver, and rings and
watches, and all sorts o' trinkets and notions, buried somewhere along
shore, or perhaps on the old fellow's island? Folks does say that
when it was kivered, two men was murdered on the spot, so that their
sperits should watch it, and hender other folks from gitting on't.
But them may be all lies. I heard tell, too," he added, bending down
towards the constable, and speaking in a low, confidential tone, as if
he wished to be overheard by no one, "that Holden's Kidd himself; but
I don't believe a word on't. I tell you this as a friend of your'n,
and I advise you to be prudent."
Poor Basset left the shop, with a much less confident air than that
with which he had entered it. The truth is, he had in his pocket, all
the while, a warrant issued by Squire Miller to arrest Holden, which
he now most heartily wished he had never burnt his fingers with.
He had heard before, the strange stories in circulation about the
Solitary, but had listened to them with only a vague feeling
of curiosity, without any personal interest therein, so that no
impression of any consequence had been made upon his mind. But now the
case was different. The matter was brought home to his own bosom. Here
was he, Constable Basset, required and commanded, "by authority of the
State of Connecticut," to arrest a man of the most violent character,
"for," said Basset to himself, "he must be a dangerous fellow, else
how would he venture to insult a whole conference? Tom Gladding's
more'n half right, and I must look sharp." Gladly would he have
abandoned the whole business, notwithstanding his cupidity was not a
little excited by the fees, but he doubted whether the sheriff, his
deputy, or any other constable would execute the warrant in his
stead; nor did any plausible excuse present itself to account for
transferring it to other hands. Thus musing, with fear and avarice
contending in his breast, he walked up the street. But it may be
necessary to tell how Basset got into the dilemma, and, in order to do
so, we must retrace our steps.
The interruption at the conference had not a little offended
Davenport. A pompous and conceited man, any slight to himself, any
failure to accord a deference he considered his due, he felt sensibly
as an injury; much more, then, an open defiance and direct attack.
That Holden or any one should have the hardihood, before an assemblage
of his friends and acquaintances, to interrupt him and load him with
reproaches, wounded his self love to the quick, and he fancied it
would affect his reputation and influence in the community were the
offence to be passed over without notice. He therefore resolved that
something should be done to punish the offender, though unwilling to
appear himself in the matter, as that might expose his motives; and
all the way home, his mind was engrossed with schemes to accomplish
his purpose. It was little attention, then, he be stowed upon the
"good gracious" and "massy on us" of his better half, as, with
indignation becoming the provocation, she kept herself warm, and
shortened the way. But, notwithstanding, he was forced to hear them,
and they affected him like so many little stings to urge him to
revenge. So excited were his feelings, that it was some time before he
fell asleep that night, long after notes other than those of music had
announced the passage of Mrs. Davenport to a land of forgetfulness,
though not before her husband had matured a plan for the morrow.
Accordingly, after breakfast, Davenport walked round to the office of
Mr. Ketchum. Ketchum was a young man, who, but a short time before,
had, in the fortunate town of Hillsdale, hung out his professional
sign, or shingle, as people generally called it, whereon, in gilt
letters, were emblazoned his name and the titles of "Attorney and
Counsellor at Law," whereby the public were given to understand that
the owner of the aforesaid name and titles was prepared with pen or
tongue, or both, to vindicate, _à entrance_, the rights of all who
were able and willing to pay three dollars for an argument before a
Justice Court, and in proportion before the higher tribunals. He was
a stirring, pushing fellow, whose business, however, was as yet quite
limited, and to whom, for that reason, a new case was a _bonne bouche_
on which he sprung with the avidity of a trout.
This gentleman Davenport found apparently lost in the study of a
russet sheep-skin covered book. A few other books, bound in like
manner, were lying on the table, with pens and loose paper and an
ink-stand, among which were mingled files of papers purporting to
be writs and deeds. Against the walls were two or three shelves
containing some dingy-looking books having a family likeness to the
former.
After the usual compliments, Davenport made known his business. "A
scandal," he said, "had been occasioned by the conduct of Holden, and
a great injury inflicted on the cause of religion. It was for that
reason," he intimated, "and not from any private feeling he wanted him
brought to justice. Some people think him a little touched," he said,
"though I don't believe it, and if it was only my own case I should
overlook his insults, for it is the part of a Christian to suffer
wrong without complaining, but there's others to be thought of, and
I'd sooner cut off my right hand than not do my duty. So, squire,"
he concluded, "we must see if we can't learn him reason, and stop his
disturbing the worship of God."
"There is no difficulty about that, Squire Davenport," said Ketchum,
who was acquainted with the particulars of the occurrence of the
night previous, before the arrival of his client, having heard them
discussed over breakfast at his boarding-house. "You have the plainest
case in the world. We'll soon put him through a course of sprouts."
"How do you think we had better proceed?" said Davenport.
"Why," replied the other, opening the Statute Book, "you have at least
two causes of action; you can bring a civil action for the slander,
and also proceed against him on the part of the State for the
interruption of the meeting."
"I don't care about suing him on my own account," said the client,
who, perhaps, not reposing unlimited confidence in the young man's
knowledge of law, and doubting the success of a civil action, had
visions of possible costs he might be obliged to pay floating before
his imagination. Besides, Davenport was a shrewd fellow who had been
"in the law" before; and experience taught him how to make allowance
for the natural anxiety of a new practitioner to obtain business.
"No, I have no feeling about it myself," said Davenport, "and it is my
opinion we had better take him on the part of the State."
"It is just as well," said the attorney; "one suit will not interfere
with the other. We can first proceed against him criminally, and
afterwards bring an action for damages."
"Well, well," said Davenport, "now about the prosecution."
"Then," said Ketchum, opening the Statute Book at the title
"Meetings," after first running though the index; "we can take him
under the Act on the 492d page, entitled, 'An Act for preserving due
order in town meetings, society meetings, and in the meetings of other
communities, and for preventing tumults therein,'" and he read the act
aloud.
"I don't exactly like that," observed Davenport, "The fine, in the
first place, is only eighty-four cents, except the case is aggravated,
when it is a binding over, and then the County Court cannot go over
thirty-four dollars fine. There's no imprisonment and Tom Pownal or
Armstrong would go bail, and pay the fine too, if it comes to that; so
there would be nothing gained by the operation."
"Let as see if we cannot find something else," said Ketchum, "to suit
your taste better I think (for he now perfectly understood the temper
of his client, and read the vindictive purpose of his soul, and,
alas! was willing to descend to the meanness of ministering to its
gratification,)--I think it would be a reproach to the law if such a
high-handed outrage should be permitted to pass unpunished." He again
referred to the index and apparently finding what he wanted turned the
leaves till he came to the title, "Workhouses." "Here," cried he, "at
the 688th page, in the seventh section, we have got him;" and he read
from the Statutes a provision, authorising and empowering an associate
or Justice of the Peace to send "'all rogues, vagabonds, sturdy
beggars, and other lewd, idle, dissolute, profane and disorderly
persons that have no settlement in this State, to such workhouses, and
order them to be kept to hard labor' &c.; and here on the next page,
'also such as are guilty of reviling and profane speaking.'"
"That last will do, if the law will hold him," said Davenport.
"Leave that to me," said Ketchum. "That section will hold water or
nothing will. Give me the names of your witnesses, and we will set
the mill a grinding. I suppose," he added, carelessly, "you have no
objection to bringing the case before Squire Miller?"
"Oh, none in the world," answered the other, who knew perfectly well
the influence he exercised over the Justice. "But you haven't said a
word about the Grand Juror to make the complaint."
"That will be all straight," replied Ketchum. "Two Grand Jurors I know
were at the meeting, either of whom will answer our purpose. Trust
that to me, and I will attend to it."
Hereupon, Davenport mentioned the names of the witnesses he wished
subp[=oe]ned. "And now, Squire," he added, "that this matter is
concluded between us, how comes on my case with Fanning?"
Ketchum felt some surprise at the question, although his countenance
expressed none, for it was only a short time since he had gone over
the whole subject with his client, and the plan of operations had
been agreed on between them. He understood, however, the character
of Davenport too well not to know that he had a reason of his own
for asking, and not doubting it would come out in the course of the
conversation, he replied very composedly that it would probably be
reached the next term.
Davenport went on for awhile, talking of his case, Ketchum all the
time wondering at his drift, until, having concluded what it pleased
him to say, he rose to take leave. After bidding good morning by way
of farewell, he walked to the door, when suddenly turning, as if the
thought had just struck him, he observed--"By the way, if anybody
should happen to notice that I had called on you, I have no objections
to your saying I had a talk with you about that case of Fanning's."
As soon as the door was closed, Ketchum leaned back in his chair and
indulged in a low sarcastic laugh. "The old sinner," he said, aloud;
"he is a cute one; sharp as a pin, but needles are sharper. What a
knack he has of whipping the devil round the stump! To look at that
man you would suppose he was too good for preaching. And he flatters
himself he is imposing on me! He must get up earlier for that. It is
my opinion his only chance when his turn comes will be in cheating his
Satanic Majesty. Well, practice makes perfect, and he has enough
of it. I do declare," he added, after a pause, as if scruples of
conscience were arising in his mind, "I am almost sorry I undertook
this business. But all trades must live."
Consoling himself with this reflection, Ketchum started to hunt up the
grand juror. He found no difficulty in inducing him to make complaint
to Justice Miller, having first satisfied him that an offence had been
committed which the law compelled him to notice officially.
Squire Miller, however, seemed disposed, at first, to take a different
view of the subject. He said he had known Holden a good many years,
and never heard harm of him except that he was a little flighty
sometimes; but if the grand juror insisted, of course he would issue
the warrant.
The minister of the law must have been inexorable, for the complaint
was made, and the warrant signed in due form and delivered to Basset
to be executed.