STEPHEN H. BRANCH’S
ALLIGATOR.
Volume I.—No. 20 SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, Price 2 Cents.
1858.
And they Stoned Stephen.
We are told by the Holy Scriptures that one of the Apostles, who,
preaching integrity and truth to the Pharisees of old, offended those
who belonged to the Tabernacle of libertines, was brought before the
council, which, by arousing public sentiment in a seditious manner,
caused Stephen to be stoned. And in our modern day they have likewise
stoned Stephen by placing him, unaccustomed to toil, and guiltless of
all crime, save the free exercise of opinion, to labor in a quarry along
with felons, thieves, and other obnoxious convicts; and in this wise
have our modern Pharisees stoned Stephen.
The Warden of the Penitentiary, suffering from din of public opinion,
has seen proper to extenuate his conduct by stating that he was
compelled, by rigidity of duty, thus to place Mr. Branch in a position
of labor. Thus has he communicated his thoughts for publication to the
editor of the _Sunday Mercury_, and when he uttered them he was well
aware that they were a mere subterfuge to avoid personal indignity. And
now we challenge the Warden to show one single word in his instructions
rendering it compulsory upon him to employ any one soul in the quarrying
of stone. On the contrary, his instructions particularly enjoin upon him
the exercise of moderation and forbearance as a taskmaster, and most
explicitly direct that no prisoner, incapable of physical labor, shall
be employed at manual servitude. The law of the State, despite the
tendencies of Mr. Fitch, recognizes every being, created in human form,
to be possessed of a soul, as well as being of value to the
commonwealth; for a man incarcerated in the penitentiary, is not devoid
of civil life as is the case with a convict to the State prison, and
wherefore then did he stone Stephen?
Mr. Fitch, the Warden, may remember that a woman, convicted of the most
brutal of crimes, which the law unfortunately has left unvisited by
proper punishment, that of the murder of the innocents, as yet unborn,
was, during her residence at the Island, favored not only with the
comforts, but the luxuries of an easy existence. And still they stoned
Stephen.
The Warden, in addition to this instance of the famous Madame Restell,
may remember that a French gentleman, convicted of a most gross and
obscene libel upon the Rev. Mr. Verien, was not only suffered to remain
in idleness, and without the prison clothes, but was absolutely lodged
in the Warden’s house, remunerating him for his comfortable existence by
instructing his daughters in a knowledge of the French tongue. And still
they stoned Stephen!
The Warden may remember, moreover, that Mr. Judson, convicted of a
misdemeanor in exciting the Astor Place riot, was allowed two days of
weekly absence to attend the publication of a journal by him published—a
fact notorious to every reader of _Ned Buntline’s Own_. And still they
stoned Stephen!
We are sorry that the Warden so far committed himself as intentionally
to persecute a harmless, unoffensive man, whose true crime is a steady
adherence to truth. Allow us to assure him that while we admire his
penitence for the moment, we cannot forgive the fact that he stoned
Stephen!
Is the Atlantic Telegraph Actually Complete?
It is still doubted by many whether the Atlantic cable is actually laid
and perfect, as is reported. There is, we believe, no actual proof of
the fact, beyond that in the hands of those who have a pecuniary
interest in its being completed. It is said that the Queen’s message and
the President’s reply have been transmitted. Have they? Who knows?
Mr. Field has notified the public that the line will not be opened for
its use in much less than a month—that he also has resigned the
directorship. Has he sold his stock, and thus disqualified himself from
holding office? And will most of the stock have changed hands within the
month? And will something have happened to the cable in the meantime to
render it useless? Will the directors prove the fact of the cable being
securely laid and in working order, by transmitting a message and
returning an answer, if it is but a single sentence? If they are able to
transmit one word they can do this. It would certainly be too bad if it
should prove to be a Kidd salvage affair. Then all the gas which has
been evolved, and all the powder burnt in the extreme jollification,
would be a total loss; together with part of the City Hall, and Justice
into the bargain. We certainly would advise those who have been lately
canonized to show these surmises to be false before their honors grow
dim.
A Commotion in the Jarsies.
The ALLIGATOR, feeling himself some pumpkins, on Sunday last, ventured
upon an excursion to the Jarsies, as much from a desire to have
universal absolution by a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Quietus, as
from a longing to fraternize with the gallant Zouave, so particularly
enamored with the “blunt.” Basking in the smiles, literal and liquid, of
the Hotel Napoleon, and, sunned by the presence of the fair hostess, the
Alligator was enwrapt in a pleasant revery, much after the owl-like
manner, in which the sedate and philosophical Peter Cooper presides over
a reform convention. But his repose was broken by learning the
astounding fact that the Jersies, and especially Hoboken, was in a state
of political insurrection, and that for the moment the authority of
James Buchanan, President of these United States, was despised,
contemned and absolutely denounced,—and even one rebel, unconscious of
the Alligator’s presence, absolutely expressed a fervent desire to punch
that dignitary’s venerable head. It seems from all that we can glean,
that the Executive of this Republic, feeling the salvation of the
country to depend upon the electors of Hoboken and the parts
circumjacent, directed the renomination of the representative in
Congress, at present representing that district. This, it seems, was too
much for Jersey patience, exhausted as it is from passive submission to
the tyranny of Camden and Amboy; and, therefore, Hoboken has raised the
standard of revolt in the person of a learned judge, who is to mount the
stump to vindicate the honor of Jersey, and perhaps of its lightning.
How the unterrified democracy will survive this disaffection, we are at
a loss to imagine—for the loss of Hoboken, which familiarly styles
itself our sister city, and a very infant of a sister at that, must be a
bitter pill to an Administration in a tight place. One hope only is
left. Cannot the President induce John McKeon to reduce the rebellious
people to a perpetual slumber by one of his soporific orations; and even
should this fail, perchance Mr. Justice Whitley might be induced to talk
to them for half an hour. We are convinced that the people of Jersey
would do anything rather than submit to this final calamity.
To Our Readers.
During the past few weeks, it has been currently reported in some
quarters, that D. W. JOBSON, Esq., is now conducting the _Alligator_.
That is not so. Mr. JOBSON never had—has not now, and, for aught we know
at present, never will have anything to do with the _Alligator_.
Answers to Correspondents.
“VAN.”—Your communication will appear in our next issue, it being
received too late to be of use for the moment.
THE ALLIGATOR.
New York, Saturday, September 4, 1858.
More Advice to Mr. Barnard.
When Mr. Recorder Barnard sat in Solomonic judgment on Stephen H.
Branch, he evidently forgot for the moment the dignity of a judge, and
assumed the questionable attributes of a politician. That Mr. Recorder
Barnard is nominally a lawyer we will admit, for he comes under all
provisions of the New Code, which creates lawyers with the celerity of
machinery; but that he understands the law, we emphatically deny. Before
Mr. Barnard mounted the Bench, was his name ever known to the community
as a successful barrister? Was he ever intrusted with any important
civil or criminal case? Did he ever make a speech the most common-place
reporter thought worthy of being reproduced in type? Not one of those
tests of popularity, which appertain to the career of the most common of
attorneys, seem to apply to the case of our learned Recorder, upon whose
brow honor and glory have stumbled as it were by accident.
Mr. Barnard, in sentencing Mr. Branch, evidently desired to impress the
public mind with an idea of his individual authority; forgetting that he
was armed with the sword of mercy, he wielded only that of justice, and
with a vindictiveness, as reckless as it was violent, loaned himself to
the wishes of partizan leaders, who daily stand in dread of exposure
from an unbridled press. As vermin cannot dwell in certain atmospheres,
these men stifle coming in contact with the air of a free press; and it
is to them we owe the bitter persecution of free opinion, as is
glowingly instanced in the judgment passed upon Branch. A self-same
punishment would have been meted out to any offending editor, who may
touch the dignity of the confederated band, who thus attempt to throttle
speech, whose freedom should be indigenous to the soil.
How long has Mr. Barnard learned that a convicted editor is a mere
felon? That he should be maltreated, disgraced, and placed even below
the level of thieves and malefactors? The case of Mr. Branch is probably
the first on record, wherein a man condemned for libel was compelled to
submit to prison discipline, intended only for a minor class of felons.
But as this case has occurred, it has afforded to our people a fair
opportunity of judging upon the irresponsibility, we will not say
imbecility, of an elective judiciary. Catch the most insignificant
errand-boy in the nearest lawyer’s den, and he will give you a better
legal, if not more humane, exposition of the true genius of the laws
than was publicly enunciated by Mr. Recorder Barnard, who indirectly
repudiated pure maxims of jurisprudence, and substituted vagaries of
vengeance. Let us, therefore, profit by this casual display of
sentiment; for say we to all quarters of the city, with a voice as of
that of a watchman in the hour of alarm, that none, not even the pure
and guileless, are safe while fantasies such as these are suffered to be
fulminated from a criminal bench. And likewise mind, we draw a grave
distinction between our civil and criminal judiciary. Unfortunately, the
highest and most respected of our judges are occupied solely with the
rights of property, and we have committed the rights of the person to
the most obscure of obscure attorneys, accidentally thrust from pure
partizan influence upon the Bench. While the truly learned Justice
Clerke, a lawyer such as the way of Christian life would make him, is
simply occupied in matters of dollars and cents, our lives, our persons,
our future, immaculate, are intrusted to the supervision of such learned
pundits as Mr. Recorder Barnard and City Judge Russell.
Liberty of speech is a right, paramount to that of every other
consideration; it has been treasured as the key-stone to the great,
unwritten Constitution of Britain and of our own land; it is the vital
essence of our political existence, and its abuse has been judicially
tolerated that the spirit shall be perpetuated. But as Mr. Recorder
Barnard has not probably indulged in the intellectual luxury of perusing
Hallam’s Constitutional History—such a work being unknown to the New
Code—we will excuse him from any implied admiration of that respect,
yea, adoration, for personal rights, which animated the manly soul of
Algernon Sidney and fired the patriotism of John Hampden.
We simply wish to inform Mr. Recorder Barnard that he labors under a
delusion when he presumes libel to be a misdemeanor in the literal sense
of the word, and although the law may be virtually misconstrued in such
a wise as to authorize interpretation that it may verge upon
misdemeanor, still the practice of Courts, presided over by Kent, by
Eldon, and by Camden, has essentially abrogated any such pretence in
fact. In meeting out to Mr. Branch the doom of a common thief, in
disgracing and degrading him before the eyes of a community, he
attempted in a feeble way, it may be observed, to instruct and
enlighten. Mr. Barnard and his satellites not only erred in tempor, but
in absolute legality. They have reaped a harvest of glory in the
unmurmured cases of a sympathetic public who will profit by the lesson
we have received, and hence forward seek not such servants as these.
The Law’s Delay.
It was confidently expected that a revision of the judgment upon Mr.
Branch would have been had in the early part of this week. We, however,
learn from Mr. Ashmead, that the Court being pre-occupied by civil
business, have postponed consideration of his motion until the month of
September, when the learned counsellor feels assured that the relief he
prays for will be granted, and a new trial be had.
In this sacrifice of personal rights to the emolument of that of
property, we notice the inconsistency of the law which thus creates an
invidious distinction between things animate and inanimate. Here, then,
we have a person kept in jail, in a state of vexatious misery, while the
Court is occupied by the consideration of some quarrel of Smith and
Jones over a bale of cotton, or some other triviality in a commercial
point of view. Now, the most valuable of all rights is that of
locomotion, and the dearest of all writs is that of _habeas corpus_,
instituted expressly for the relief of the individual from unjust
detention. And still all the provisions of this famous act are
neutralized the instant the prisoner gets into the clutches of the
judiciary, whose slow motions are too often a cause of unintentional
wrong-doing.
In the case of the People _vs._ Haines, the prisoner served his time out
in the State Prison, and was afterward granted a new trial and found not
guilty. Ashley, tried for forgery, served eighteen months, when upon a
new trial he was found guiltless of the crime charged upon him. Much as
we talk about the freedom of our institutions, the rights of prisoners
are too little respected by the tardy process of legal procedure. We
trust that when the new constitution be framed that preference will be
given to all cases involving personal liberty.
The First of September—let us remember.
It was observed by an English writer the heart of an alderman lays in
his belly. It may be true of an English alderman, but with ours the
centre of all affections rests in the pocket—touch him there, and you
draw his life’s blood. Dining is the mere relaxation with our aldermanic
council, by which they occasionally while away the fatigues of
mathematical calculations on the gross profits of contracts. They eat
not as a matter of duty, but from absolute necessity. We are to have a
municipal banquet on the first of September, to testify our joy at the
successful laying of the Atlantic Cable; and the same gentlemen, who did
the mourning over James Munroe, have kindly condescended to do our
merriment over the cable. Our Aldermen have acute sensations; at one
moment they are plunged in the depths of woe, at another they are
frantic with delight. In a word, they do everything, even praise God,
not in church, but at the Crystal Palace.
We being of the poorer class feeders on pork and beans, are not expected
to have stomachs, capable of being with fat capon lined, so we, tax
payers will have to imagine the splendor of the scene, seen through the
gloomy columns of a morning newspaper. And therefore let us riot in
imagination and taste the pleasures of the honor in anticipation.
We see before us, seated in his chair of state, the great Puttyman, and
we worship his Worship like unto the mighty Bendimeer, for him to speak,
for us to hear. And as the words of humid eloquence are distilled from
his lips, we will wonder how we could unfold so sound, unvarnished a
tale, and admit that painting spoils the lily and the rose, until
weighed down by the profundity of magisterial love, we unconsciously
droop to balmy slumber. And then we shall have Alderman Clancy, whose
soft persuasive tones shall wake thunders of applause, as he extols the
fighting glories of the Sixth, and promises that if the cable has
necessity of gallant defenders, he knows a band ready to fight for it.
And then there will be the grave and illustrious Peter, who will act the
part of the skeleton at the Egyptian feast, with an occasional smile as
a token of our approaching smile. He will make but few remarks; the most
telling of which will be a short sentence, offering the use of the
basement cellar of the Institute wherein to coil away the tail end of
the cable.
And then we will have Simeon Draper, the facetious prince of diners-out,
whose portly presence was never known to fail a municipal feast. He will
illuminate us with jokes, such as were wont to enliven the monotony of
an Alms House board. And then we will mourn to think that some day must
come when the Corporation Yorick will be no more.
It will be a great feast!—a revelry of wit, humor, and sentiment; a
gathering together of all imaginable elements of greatness, from every
quarter of the city, and it is only to be regretted that the Lord Mayor
of London and him of Dublin cannot be sent, per the cable, to
participate in the scene of self-glorification, it would afford them
such an instructive lesson in the principles of municipal democracy. But
as they are requested to dine simultaneously with our body corporate, so
shall the _Alligator_, in an humble manner, it must be conceded, for we
dine at our own expense—a consideration not entering into the heads of
our authorities. At the exact moment when Simeon Draper cracks his sixth
joke, the _Alligator_ will honor Waterman with a command for “ein
lager!”
Long Branch and Short Branch.
While Branch rusticates upon the Island, Long Branch has had the honor
of a most distinguished assembly, lay, clerical and divine. While
Alderman Clancy, pink of municipal Nestors, has consented to bloom away
from Blossom Lodge, and here to perform the duties of the Mayoralty, his
Honor, the great Puttyman, comfortably dozes to the music of Jersey
musquitos, his repose only broken by the unwelcome intrusion of John
McKeon—the leanest of Pharoah’s lean kine. His Honor and the inevitable
John, although doubtlessly the master spirits of the mysterious
conference held at the Branch, and which will probably be elucidated
after the next election, however played second fiddle to Archbishop
Hughes, a venerable prelate, who, well aware of the qualities of putty,
can mould it at his will. What Peter Cooper does at the conference
beyond yarning, it is difficult to imagine, his peculiarities being
generally limited to that operation of the muscles. If these worthy
gentlemen can conceive that they can use the Archbishop for their
political purposes, they are slightly mistaken, for that enthusiastic
prelate is too old a bird to be caught by any kind of chaff, and we
doubt whether Puttyman & Co. can manufacture salt enough from the
Atlantic ocean to be placed on his venerable tail. We may remind this
scheming crew, that, some years ago Governor Seward and his private
governor, Thurlow Weed, attempted a sale of the worthy Archbishop, who,
in return for the compliment, bought himself in and sold out his
would-be purchasers at a remarkably low figure. With this decided case
before their eyes, we beg to caution poor Puttyman and Peter to keep
their eyes skinned, otherwise they may be found embalmed within the new
Cathedral.
All for a Quarter.
We read in the daily prints that a gentleman by the name of Hoey, while
returning from Rockaway, in company with a gentleman and lady, in
passing a turnpike gate, gave the girl, attending the bar, a coin which
he presumed to be a good American quarter dollar, but which the girl
pronounced to be bad. The turnpike man, who chances to be a justice of
the peace, immediately caused the arrest of all parties, who were forced
to send to Rockaway for bail. Even after the arrival of the bail the
party were detained several hours from lack of the necessary printed
blanks, while Mr. Justice and turnpike man Pearsall, copied the process
from a musty law tome. It is needless to add that upon the appearance of
Mr. Hoey and counsel from New York, all proceedings were dismissed as
frivolous.
Gross as this outrage may appear at the first blush, and intense as was
the stupidity of the Long Island Dogberry, it can be daily paralleled by
the actions of our own law courts, especially when we extract our police
magistrates from barrooms and grogeries. Now one question: Have we one
single police magistrate in this city who ever swept out a lawyers
office, much less ever studied the profession? They are doubtlessly
intelligent and well-meaning men, but then they are not lawyers, and
consequently unfit to be entrusted with the custody of our personal
independence. No right can be dearer than that of free locomotion, and
therefore we should be more particular in the selection of these judges,
than those controlling the right of property. Imprisonment, like the dew
of heaven, falls alike upon the rich and the poor, and no citizen should
be jeopardized as to personal liberty and representation without the
strongest possible precaution.
News from a Watering Place.
Peter Cooper, the learned, astute, and never to be forgotten Peter,
finds it to be invaluable to his health, to snuff the sea breeze in the
classic freshness of Long Branch. Archbishop John, fatigued with the
cares of Cathedral dedication, found it likewise to his advantage to
smell the air in the same locality, and for fear of want of amusement he
brought with him the Vicar General of his diocese, and a brother of some
order—probably of the Redemptorists, or of some other evangelical
pawnbrokers. And a very strange peculiarity in the atmosphere brought to
the self-same spot, our most illustrious municipal executive Daniel F.
Tiemann. And being mutual acquaintances, on Sunday last, they enjoyed a
most comfortable chat, regulating the moral, sanitary and religious
condition of our citizens, when Peter suddenly disappeared, and his body
was only recovered a few hours before nightfall, when he was discovered
thoroughly impregnated with a speech, which he will probably transmit to
posterity upon the walls of the Institute, but which in reality is the
personal property of Archbishop Hughes. And on the morrow Peter, like
his saintly namesake, being a fisher of fish as well as of men, went
forth to angle with the Vicar General, and the tonsured monk, but what
caught he beside religious truths, which ever hang like diamonds upon
the voices of the Archbishop’s town friends, we regret to say we could
not learn. There must be something over refreshing in the air of Long
Branch, some resuscitating principle which can allure to that spot such
a bevy of worthies, who, to while away their leisure, have probably
settled in every manner, not only the Apostolic succession, but Mayor
Tiemann’s re-election.
* * * * *
We would like some of our cotemporaries to tell us what the people have
gained in the election of Daniel F. Tiemann and the defeat of Fernando
Wood. The latter is a statesman, a fine lawyer, quick perception,
brilliant talents, and with all the accusations against him, proved
himself an able, efficient magistrate. But Tiemann, what shall the
historian say of him? Echo answers write—on his tomb stone—“Here lies
the paint manufacturer, Daniel F. Tiemann, who was unfortunately elected
Mayor of New York, through a mistake of his friends. He’s gone—speak
gently of his errors—the city debt mourns—the people they say—nothing.”
* * * * *
Owing to the large and increasing demand for the ALLIGATOR, we are
induced, by Mr. Branch’s friends, to enlarge, consequently next week
will appear a full grown monster—covering eight pages. Look out for next
number. It will be rich and racy—full of spice.
* * * * *
AN AFTER-THOUGHT.—Mayor Tiemann, in his epistle to the Lord Mayor of
London, remarks, with respect to the Atlantic Telegraph, that “to God be
all praise.” We are glad that the Mayor has, like Saul of Tarsus, seen a
great light, for last week Cyrus W. Field monopolized all the praise.
* * * * *
NIAGARA ECLIPSED.—We had always thought that Niagara _falls_ were the
greatest extant, but we are mistaken. We have lately discovered one fall
infinitely greater than the above—Mayor Tiemann’s fall from the good
opinion of the citizens of New York into the arms of James Gordon
Bennett.
* * * * *
“A STICK!”—By all means, at all times, we would have our friends _stick_
beside us; but the assumed friend, who, seeking help, helped himself
with our _composing stick_, from _beside us_, may he soon need a
_crutch_.—[D.]
A Pertinent Series of Queries.
_To the Editor of the Alligator_:
NEW YORK, August 24, 1858.
SIR.—There are a few things which I, with many others of my
acquaintances, wish to know, relative to the assistant matron of
Randall’s Island, who figured so conspicuously in the press and in
our Court of Sessions for the last month past. Before putting the
questions, I would just say—as the subject of the note is a
lady—if this were the first piece of scandal the citizens of New
York had any knowledge of in connection with our city
appointments, I, for one, would have been the first to have had
this savory morsel consigned to the “tomb of all the Capulets.”
Unfortunately it is not so. It is a well known fact that those who
are fortunate enough to receive the patronage of the corporation
of New York, and of all the lesser organizations in any way
connected with our city, must, at least _possess one negative_
qualification—they must be thoroughly destitute of honesty. Add to
this a great talent for plundering the public treasury, drinking
any quantity of rum, talking profanely, and well skilled in
fistiana, drinking _swill milk_ and eating _swill-fed beef_, and,
in a word, in bamboozling everybody. It would appear, from
disclosures lately made in certain quarters, the qualifications of
the female portion of the appointees is in no way higher than the
male portion.
The first question is—Did the Ten Governors, or any of them,
_know_ that this woman cohabited, as alleged in the _Alligator_
and not disputed on the trial, with the individual represented as
her friend? If so, this is a sad spectacle to be exhibited before
our wives and daughters.
In the second place, why did Mayor, then Governor, Tiemann, if he
did not _know_, prevent this _particular friend_ from visiting the
Island, while he permitted all the lady’s other friends to visit
her?
In the third place, how came this lady to be in want of small sums
of money at different times, and how came she to make her wants
known to Governor Tiemann? And, far more wonderful still, that he
should supply them repeatedly without the former advance being
liquidated? This seems to me passing strange when we come to
reflect on the fact that this woman receives for her services on
the Island $800 per year; no small sum for an assistant matron.
In the fourth place, if all or any of the above be true—and it may
be true for any thing I know—(the trial of Branch did not at all
touch these questions)—why is the lady not removed from the
Island, for she is totally unfitted for the responsible situation
she now fills? If the charges be false, why does the lady not take
immediate steps to clear herself from this heinous scandal? The
public have a right to demand that she either clear her character
or that she be removed from the Island.
A WORKING MAN.
* * * * *
☞ The _Sunday Mercury_ reads us a homily, and attempts to
whitewash the conduct of the Warden of the Penitentiary. John
Smith, Jr., of Arkansas, is a great man in his own estimation, and
it is a pity that the appreciation extends no further.
☞ The _Tribune_ attempts to advise the Tammany Committee with
regard to their political action. This is extremely civil as well
as kind, and in return for this the Sachems will probably vote the
Republican ticket. There is nothing more useful than perseverance,
if we except putty.
Supreme Court.
_In the matter of Stephen H. Branch undergoing sentence for libel._—Mr.
Ashmead said he had obtained a writ of error in this case. He was at
first disposed to let the judgment be affirmed by this Court without
argument, in order that it might go to the Court of Appeals, but he was
informed by Mr. Branch’s friends that he is failing so fast that the
question is doubtful whether he will live until the Court of Appeals
meets.
Judge Davies—There is no other business before the Court.
Mr. Ashmead asked to have a day set down for the argument in this
matter.
Judge Davies—No, sir; we cannot meet again until the third Monday in
September.
Mr. Sedgwick, Assistant District Attorney, could not consent to the case
going on out of the regular order. He had no doubt but Mr. McKeon would
like to facilitate the argument; he was, however, out of town, and Mr.
Sedgwick could not name any day.
Mr. Ashmead said that the defendant’s points were so very clear and the
exceptions taken so indisputable that he had no doubt that the case
could be disposed of in fifteen minutes.
Mr. Sedgwick said the reason he could not consent was that Mr. Ashmead
had intimated that he would make no strenuous opposition to a judgment
for the people in this Court, in order that the case might go to the
Court of Appeals at the next term; Mr. McKeon had left town with that
understanding, but a few days since Mr. Ashmead gave notice that he
would like to argue the questions here; counsel for the people were not
therefore prepared.
Mr. Ashmead would consent to judgment for the people _pro forma_, but
Mr. Branch’s friends were importuning him to have the matter disposed
of, as they feared he will not survive until the Court of Appeals meets
in September.
The Court suggested that if Mr. Branch’s health was such that his life
was endangered, he could be admitted to bail.
Mr. Sedgwick said that he could be bailed by an order of the Court.
Judge Davies said this Court would adjourn to to-morrow or Saturday, for
the purpose of hearing the argument, but Mr. Sedgwick could not say when
Mr. McKeon would return. Upon the suggestion of the Court, the case took
the regular order, to come before the General Term on the third Monday
of September, which would give them time to go before the Court of
Appeals on the fourth Tuesday of that month.
Mr. Ashmead said that he had searched the books, and from the time of
Charles the Second down to the present day, there is no such sentence to
be found on record.
The Court adjourned _sine die_.
The following is the substance of Mr. Ashmead’s points for Branch:
1. In refusing to receive the testimony of the three witnesses who
offered to prove that they told Branch the matters which he published,
and which were charged as libellous, in order to rebut the implication
of malice.
2. In charging the jury that if the defendant justified or proved the
truth as to two of the parties charged, yet, that inasmuch as the
indictment embraced a libel on three, he must still be found guilty.
3. That the whole proceedings are _coram non judice_, the Court having
no jurisdiction to originate bills in case of misdemeanor.
4. In charging the jury that the law presumed malice from the
publication of a libel, without instructing them at the same time that
it was only a _prima facie_ presumption, and could be rebutted by
evidence.
* * * * *
BRANCH’S CONDITION.—A gentleman, upon whose statements we can place the
utmost reliance, tells us that a day or two ago he visited Branch at
Blackwell’s Island. After crossing the river and reaching the Island,
the gentleman was shown into a small office attached to the
Penitentiary. At this place he saw one of the clerks present an order
from one of the “Governors,” to be permitted to see Branch. After a few
moments the unfortunate Alligator, but still indomitable Branch,
presented himself. His face was paler than when in the city, and his
general appearance was that of a man who was suffering from a want of
nutritious food and the usual comforts of life. Branch was dressed in
the prison costume, his hair was cropped and his whiskers shaved. He
stated that he was now employed in carrying the tools used by the people
of the quarry, and that, although the work was not necessarily too
severe, yet the fact that he was confined all day amid the dust of the
quarry, and fed on food which his system and appetite revolts at, he was
rapidly losing his strength, and was threatened with a paralysis of his
left side. He stated that he had to get upon several times in the night
to rub his limbs, and that his case was aggravated from the fact that he
was denied the use of slippers, and had consequently to stand on the
stone floor whenever he was obliged to rise from his bed. He says that
if the present severe discipline is not alleviated, he will not live six
weeks, and his chest is severely affected by the dust of the quarry and
the hard labor he has to perform, without adequate food.—_Daily Times._
A story is told by Sir Walter Scott, of a Scotch nobleman who had a very
ugly daughter called “Muckle Mouthed Meg,” whom nobody would look at.
Having caught a young man of good family on his estate in some scrape,
he had him tried and condemned to be hanged. When the young man appealed
to him, he told him, “The only way I can save you is by your marrying my
ugly daughter.” The young man said he would be hanged first. When
brought out to the gallows and the rope was seen hanging ready, the
young man cried out, “Let me have another look at her.”