Robert dalton was of good blood, having descended from colonial
families of degree. He was perhaps in his middle thirties, in appearance
no usual man, straight as a spire, with a powerful face in which every
feature seemed prominent; hair rather prematurely gray, and soft and
clinging as a woman's, and withal a manner courtly to such a degree that
the young, and those others unskilled in divining the natures of men,
associated with Mr. Dalton relations of a so-called romantic nature.
This conclusion was grossly erroneous, and led to much profitless
gossip. In fact, Robert Dalton was a stern and practical man of large
legal acquirements, with no more romance in his composition than a ship
carpenter. In the practice of his profession he was always cold, clear
headed, and technical, believing no man, and fearing no man; in truth,
the wags asserted, his courtesy was in itself a libel, because of
all members of the bar no one was more rigid, more exacting, or more
relentless than Robert Dalton, of Carpenter, Lomax, & Dalton.
The mental build of young Dalton rendered him especially valuable as
a chancery lawyer, and this department of the business he gradually
assumed until it was almost entirely in his hands. For years he drafted
all difficult pleadings, especially difficult under the rigid practice
of the common law obtaining in the Virginias. He drafted likewise all
deeds, wills, and papers of like tenor, with such unusual care and skill
that he rapidly gained a reputation,--the sort of reputation which it
usually requires a lifetime to establish, and the value of which is
above rubies.
When the judges spoke of him they said, “If Mr. Dalton prepared this
paper it is probably correct.”
It would be unwise to attribute to young Dalton an utter disregard
for social relations. The error of such an assertion would readily
be detected by those who knew him. In fact, he was usually present at
prominent social functions, and largely sought after by reason of his
magnetic nature and the charm of his vigorous mind.
The father of young Dalton had been a man of improvident habits, and,
immediately upon the death of his wife, squandered his large estate
in the riot of dissipation, so that his son inherited nothing but a
dilapidated manor-house and a single slave. This servant, a pure negro,
was deeply attached to young Dalton, and the two continued to reside in
the manor-house near the city suburbs, the negro acting as cook, valet,
and man-of-all-work. This manor house was one of the first built in
the Virginias. It was surrounded by a long, ill-kept lawn, in which
the ancient knotted oaks seemed to stand guard over the memory of some
departed greatness. The house itself, covered with the green Virginia
creeper, was little better than a ruin. The plaster had fallen away from
the great pillars, and the walls were cracked, in places, almost to the
roof.
Strangely enough, Robert Dalton never attempted to repair the estate,
taking pride rather in its air of decay. This statement is not entirely
accurate. He did, indeed, fit up the ancient drawing-room for the
purposes of a library, thrusting in rows of bookcases beside long
antique mirrors and mahogany window seats. These bookcases were
filled entirely with reports of courts, late digests, the decisions of
tribunals of last resort, and volume after volume on wills, contracts,
and corporations, but scarcely a volume on standard or current
literature. For these latter he had no inclination, and, as he
apologetically explained, no time.
In this library, Dalton did most of his legal work, obtaining here
freedom from interruption and the quiet which he required.
As the city developed, this neglected suburban street was seized upon
and assumed as the fashionable quarter by the wealthy Eastern families.
They paved it far into the country, and ruthlessly wiped out the
splendid old homesteads, erecting on their ruins ostentatious palaces
with prim lawns, reminding one not a little of that civilized vandalism
which would cut out from its frame the superb painting of a landscape
and replace therein a practical and entirely accurate map of the same
landscape.
These wealthy families swept out, too, the old social customs of this
city, setting up elaborate formalities and impoverishing standards of
dress and entertainment.
The recognized leader was Mrs. LeConte Dean, the wife of a nail
manufacturer of vast wealth. Her receptions were the society events.
Indeed, it has been said that recognition by this newly rich importation
determined one's social status.
The Van Bartans were another of these wealthy families coming directly
from the city of New York. The father had founded gigantic iron mills
from which he had gathered a princely revenue. Upon his death, the wife,
a grim woman of frightful prejudices, had continued to maintain their
country place in sumptuous, albeit rather frigid, elegance. They had one
child, Gerald Van Bartan, an utterly worthless young man of extravagant
habits and wandering aims; nevertheless, a youth of generosity and
kindly impulses. The boy was a source of ceaseless vexation to his
mother.
Carpenter, Lomax, & Dalton were her solicitors; especially Robert
Dalton, in whom she reposed the greatest confidence, and not
infrequently she spoke to him at great length of her difficulties with
her son, and usually concluded by working herself into a towering rage.
When one morning in the early autumn it was announced that Gerald Van
Bartan was very shortly to wed Miss Columbia Summers, a young lady of
great beauty and of aristocratic lineage, but of reduced and nipping
finances, the city was very justly indignant. Robert Dalton had for
many years paid court to this young woman, and the self-constituted
match-makers had long since entered up their decree in this matter and
dismissed it, and they resented, as almost a personal affront, the going
afield of their plans.
Thereupon idle folk prattled of the great blow to Dalton, his broken
heart, and other drivel. There was no evidence that Robert Dalton
had any other than a passing interest in this matter, and neither his
partners nor those others intimately acquainted with the man suspected
that this gossip contained any element of truth Indeed, he had come to
be regarded as of stoical build.
When this rumor came to the ears of Mrs. Van Rartan, she received it
with almost suspicious composure, and a few days later sent for Dalton,
her solicitor, and inquired if she could dispose of her entire property.
To this Dalton replied that she could, the title to all property having
passed to her by virtue of her husband's will, of which she was the sole
beneficiary. Thereupon she smiled, and said that she might require his
services further on.
The wedding and receptions which followed were great social functions,
and for three years thereafter Mrs. Van Bartan maintained the two
young people in the veriest profligate magnificence, the elder woman
anticipating every wish of the younger, and heaping upon her the
costliest gowns and jewels to be had.
During this time, Carpenter and Lomax watched Dalton closely, but they
could detect no change in the man, except perhaps that he was even more
rigid and exacting in his professional transactions.
Thus matters continued without event until the night set apart for the
first autumn reception of Mrs. LeConte Dean. These were annual events
of great revelry, and largely attended. The night was unpropitious, raw,
and foggy, as October nights usually are in this region, but this in no
wise interfered with the occasion; indeed, it was long remembered as one
of startling magnificence.
This reception Robert Dalton determined not to attend, partly because he
avoided as far as possible every gathering at which he might be thrown
with the younger Mrs. Van Bartan, but principally because the firm had
an important case in the Federal Court then sitting, and he had been
asked to prepare an elaborate decree for the following day.
After determining to remain at home, Robert Dalton went into his
library, gathered his books of reference from their cases, and began the
preparation of his legal paper. This decree he found more difficult to
draft than he had anticipated, and, striving to adjust its intricate
matters, he became more and more absorbed until he was entirely
unconscious of his surroundings and of the time that had elapsed.
Finally he arose in order to refer to some report that was not within
reach of his hand. As he turned to the light he beheld a woman, wrapped
in the folds of a long party cloak, standing with her hand on the door,
as though she had just entered. Dalton was so utterly astonished that he
literally rubbed his eyes to ascertain if he were not the victim of an
illusion. Whereupon the woman threw back her cloak, and advanced to the
table, when he perceived to his amazement that it was the younger Mrs.
Van Bartan. To this man she seemed a daughter of the very gods in the
full bloom of womanhood. The rich velvet cloak thrown back from her bare
shoulders, the ball dress clinging like puffy webs to a form that his
brooding mind had idolized; her eyes illumined, and her splendid hair
wound in loose coils above her dainty head.
It would all be very weary to set out in detail what occurred on this
October night; how the younger woman explained that she had finally
divined the intention of the elder Mrs. Van Bartan, and how she had
hoped to see Dalton at the LeConte Dean's, and not finding him had
slipped away, and, availing herself of the foggy night, had been driven
unattended to his house in order to implore his aid; how she came and
stood beside him, and pointed out the dread results sure to follow the
elder Mrs. Van Bartan's unnatural intentions,--results disastrous to
her and to hers. Gerald Van Bartan was worthless, she knew that; he had
never been taught to work; he was now too old to learn; it would mean
poverty, grinding poverty, and shame worse than all; and her father,
aged and broken in health, and the others of them, all dependent upon
her, would be thrown out to huddle in beggary, literally, beggary.
How Dalton replied that there was nothing he could do; reminding her
that the elder Mrs. Van Bartan was a woman of iron will, of stern
resolve, of relentless determination, and that neither he nor any other
living man could affect her. And how like a woman she answered that he,
Dalton, would be sent for to make the will, and that he must save her
some way, she did not know how,--he would know, he was shrewd, he was
a great lawyer, he could certainly find some way; this she knew, and he
must do it.
And how he labored to show her that there was nothing he could
do--absolutely nothing; that the whole thing was hopeless, thoroughly,
utterly hopeless; and then how she came to him and put her bare white
arms around him and looked up into his face, the big tears shining in
her glorious eyes, and said that if this were true, then she proposed
to tell him all the truth, the truth that she loved him, him only in all
the wide world, him always from her very childhood, and that for others
she had made this sacrifice; and how great, how awful a sacrifice it had
been, men could not understand. How he coldly loosed her arms, although
to do it wrenched his very heart loose; although he would have given his
life gladly to have taken her in his embrace if only for a moment, and
told her how he understood and how he loved her for it, and how he would
always love her to the very end of all things; but, instead, how he had
sternly led her out to the carriage and forced her to leave him, and
how he turned back into the library with his head swimming and his heart
pounding like a hammer, and fought the whole thing out through the long
October night, until the dawn crept in and the birds began to chirp in
the Virginia creeper.
Some weeks later, as was anticipated, the elder Mrs. Van Bartan summoned
Robert Dalton to her residence in order to prepare her will. Upon his
arrival he found Simon Harrison, President of the First National Bank,
and David Pickney, a steel manufacturer, both prominent citizens of
unquestioned integrity; also the late Milton South, a most estimable
physician. At Mrs. Van Bartan's request, Robert Dalton prepared the will
in the presence of these three persons. When he had finished he handed
the paper to the testatrix, who thereupon read it aloud in the presence
of all, declared it entirely correct, and affixed her signature. As is
customary, Dalton requested the three gentlemen to converse with the
testatrix and satisfy themselves that she was in proper mental
condition. This they did at some length, and not unskilfully, all being
men of good sense. Afterward Harrison and Pickney subscribed their names
as witnesses in the manner prescribed by the statute. Mrs. Van Bartan
then placed the will in an envelope, sealed it with her own hand in the
presence of all, and gave it to Simon Harrison to retain until after her
death.
On the seventeenth day of December following, Mrs. Van Bartan died
suddenly, and some days thereafter the will was opened and read at her
late residence by Simon Harrison, executor. Gerald Van Bartan and his
young wife were present, as was also Robert Dalton, and those others who
had been with the deceased when the will was drawn. The elder members
of the law firm, Carpenter and Lomax, were likewise present, and, at the
request of Harrison, the Episcopal minister, Rev. Mr. Boreland, and his
counsel, an obscure practitioner named Gouch.
The will was short, leaving the entire estate, real and personal, naming
it specifically, for some religious purpose; and, in a spirit of grim
jest, it would seem, one dollar each to her “beloved children,” Gerald
Van Bartan and Columbia Van Bartan, his wife.
The effect of this will upon the two young people, as the executor
slowly read its provisions, would require a dramatist of no little
stature to describe. The woman's face grew drawn and bloodless. The
man's knees seemed to give way, and he would have fallen had he not been
helped to a chair.
Dalton, men did not notice, for he was a skilful actor. When the
executor had finished, Mr. Lomax plucked Carpenter by the arm, and
inquired, in a low voice, if he had noticed any defect in the will.
Carpenter replied that he had not, but that he had paid little attention
to its form, whereupon Lomax requested him to examine it closely. The
elder counsellor stepped up beside Harrison and began to go carefully
over the instrument. Presently he stopped in amazement, and put his
finger down on the paper.
“This will,” he said, “is utterly void.”
At the word, the blood surged back into Columbia Van Bartan's face. She
took two steps toward Robert Dalton, then turned and buried her face in
the folds of a heavy curtain. Dalton was cool and entirely incredulous.
“I think you are very much mistaken, Mr. Carpenter,” he said quietly.
“Mistaken?” answered the counsellor. “Why, this bequest is made simply
to 'St. Luke's Episcopal Church.' That organization is neither an
individual nor a corporation; it has no recognized legal existence. And
this request must fail for want of a devisee.”
At this point Harrison, who was a slow but very careful man, interrupted
and explained with great accuracy that the will was in every detail
exactly as the testatrix had desired it; that even the language used was
her language; that she had said “St. Luke's Episcopal Church,” and
that Mr. Dalton had written it in the instrument precisely as Mrs. Van
Bartan had said, and that there could be no possible error either by
accident or design.
Carpenter was about to reply, when Lomax, noticing his excitement,
stepped in between Harrison and the elder attorney, and pointed out at
great length that this was all no doubt true, but that, under the law,
an indefinite religious organization, could not take a bequest; that
this was not generally known to those unfamiliar with legal business,
but that Mr. Dalton should have known that, in order to devise property
to a religious organization, it must be given to a board of trustees,
or to a certain person or persons, named in the will, for a specific
and accurately determined purpose; that this, Mr. Dalton should have
explained, and that his writing down the exact words of Mrs. Van Bartan
had defeated her intentions, and rendered this bequest void.
“But, sir,” put in the attorney Gouch, pompously, “the testatrix's
intention must control. I see no----”
“Come, come, my good man,” cried Carpenter, angrily, “this is what is
known in Virginia as a 'vague and indefinite charity.' Such bequests
have been held void for almost a century. Why Silas Hart attempted to
create such a devise as early as 1790, and John Marshall, Chief Justice
of the United States, held it void at law. Twenty years later.
Joseph Gallego attempted to bequeath a similar charity to the Roman
Catholic Church at Richmond, and Henry St. George Tucker, President of
the Supreme Court of Virginia, in a famous opinion, held that it must
fail, and from that time until the present the courts of this country
have been passing upon this common error of testators and their
incompetent advisers.”
Robert Dalton looked up anxiously. “In what cases?” he stammered.
“What cases!” almost shouted the elder counsellor, for he had now
lost his temper completely. “What cases, you bungler! Ask the veriest
pettyfogger; ask the commonest justice of the peace, but do not
catechise me.” And after having delivered himself of this venom, he
seized his hat and cane and stalked out of the house. He was greatly
enraged to think that a man of Dalton's learning, a member of a firm of
high standing, should make such a stupendous blunder.
Later in the day Robert Dalton came to the office and requested
Carpenter and Lomax to join him in his private room. His face showed
plainly the evidences of a great mental strain. When they were together
he closed the door, and, turning to them, said that he had examined the
question which they had raised, in regard to Mrs. Van Bartan's will, and
he was now satisfied that he had made a prodigious error in drafting
the instrument; that as his mistake would deprive a powerful church of
a vast estate, endless criticism of a most acrimonious character would
follow; that it was not just for any part of this criticism to fall
upon the shoulders of either Carpenter or Lomax, and, therefore, he
had determined to publicly withdraw from the firm. To this they made
scarcely a courteous objection, and Dalton accordingly withdrew,
publishing an announcement thereof in the daily papers.
The report of a great error in Mrs. Van Bartan's will spread through the
city with the marvellous rapidity of an evil rumor. The vials of bitter
criticism were poured out upon the head of Robert Dalton. Men declared
that they had long suspected that he was a sham, a posing ignoramus, a
dangerous blunderer.
The executor, Harrison, as was his duty, attempted to execute the
charitable bequest, but, of course, failed. Whereupon the press of the
city stood up in the market-place like the selfcomplacent Pharisee and
declared that in this day mistakes were crimes; that it was not enough
for an attorney to do the best he knew,--it was his duty to know; it was
not enough for an attorney to be honest, he must he likewise competent;
that the law was a learned profession in which the bungler was equally
as dangerous as the knave; that vast estates were conveyed by will, and
how easily by mistake or design a lawyer could destroy the testator's
most sacred wish; he could rob the helpless of his right, the dependent
of his inheritance, or the charitable institution of its patron's aid,
and all this without color of criminal wrong. The law, it asserted,
punished with relentless hand the man who blundered in positions of
trust; it punished with awful penalties the man who blundered in the
heat of passion, but it had no censure, no sting, no scourge for the man
who blundered at the bedside of the dying.
Thus was Robert Dalton's fame as a lawyer damned into the veriest
blackness.