Ishmael waited a few minutes for the excitement produced by the last address to subside—the last address that in its qualities and effects had resembled champagne—sparkling but transient, effervescent but evanescent. And when order had been restored Ishmael arose amid a profound silence to make his maiden speech, for the few opening remarks he had made in initiating the defense could scarcely be called a speech. Once more then all eyes were fixed upon him in expectancy. And, as before, he was undisturbed by these regards because he was unconscious of them; and he was calm because he was not thinking of himself or of the figure he was making, but of his client and her cause. He did not care to impress the crowd, he only wished to affect the court. So little did he think of the spectators in the room, that he did not observe that Judge Merlin, Claudia, and Beatrice were among them, seated in a distant corner—Judge Merlin and Claudia were watching him with curiosity, and Bee with the most affectionate anxiety. His attention was confined to the judges, the counsel, his client, and the memoranda in his hand. He had a strong confidence in the justice of his cause; perfect faith in the providence of God; and sanguine hopes of success.
True, he had arrayed against him an almost overpowering force: the husband of his client, and the three great guns of the bar—Wiseman, Berners, and Vivian, with law, custom, and precedent. But with him stood the angels of Justice and Mercy, invisible, but mighty; and, over all, the Omnipotent God, unseen, but all-seeing!
Ishmael possessed the minor advantages of youth, manly beauty, a commanding presence, a gracious smile, and a sweet, deep, sonorous voice. He was besides a new orator among them, with a fresh original style.
He was no paid attorney; it was not his pocket that was interested, but his sympathies; his whole heart and soul were in the cause that he had embraced, and he brought to bear upon it all the genius of his powerful mind.
I would like to give you the whole of this great speech that woke up the Washington court from its state of semi-somnolency and roused it to the sense of the unjust and cruel things it sometimes did when talking in its sleep. But I have only time and space to glance at some of its points; and if anyone wishes to see more of it, it may be found in the published works of the great jurist and orator.
He began to speak with modest confidence and in clear, concise, and earnest terms. He said that the court had heard from the learned counsel that had preceded him a great deal of law, sentiment, and wit. From him they should now hear of justice, mercy, and truth!
He reverted to the story of the woman's wrongs, sufferings, and struggles, continued through many years; he spoke of her love, patience, and forbearance under the severest trials; he dwelt upon the prolonged absence of her husband, prolonged through so many weary years, and the false position of the forsaken wife, a position so much worse than widowhood, inasmuch as it exposed her not only to all the evils of poverty, but to suspicion, calumny, and insult. But he bade them note how the woman had passed through the fire unharmed; how she had fought the battle of life bravely and come out victoriously; how she had labored on in honorable industry for years, until she had secured a home for herself and little girls. He spoke plainly of the arrival of the fugitive husband as the coming of the destroyer who had three times before laid waste her home; he described the terror and distress his very presence in the city had brought to that little home; the flight of the mother with her children, and her agony of anxiety to conceal them; he dwelt upon the cruel position of the woman whose natural protector has become her natural enemy; he reminded the court that it had required the mother to take her trembling little ones from their places of safety and concealment and to bring them forward; and now that they were here he felt a perfect confidence that the court would extend the ægis of its authority over these helpless ones, since that would be the only shield they could have under heaven. He spoke noble words in behalf not only of his client, but of woman—woman, loving, feeble, and oppressed from the beginning of time—woman, hardly dealt with by nature in the first place, and by the laws, made by her natural lover and protector, man, in the second place. Perhaps it was because he knew himself to be the son of a woman only, even as his Master had been before him, that he poured so much of awakening, convicting, and condemning fire, force, and weight into this part of his discourse. He uttered thoughts and feelings upon this subject, original and startling at that time, but which have since been quoted, both in the Old and New World, and have had power to modify those cruel laws which at that period made woman, despite her understanding intellect, an idiot, and despite her loving heart a chattel—in the law.
It had been the time-honored prerogative and the invariable custom of the learned judges of this court to go to sleep during the pleadings of the lawyers; but upon this occasion they did not indulge in an afternoon nap, I assure you!
He next reviewed the testimony of the witnesses of the plaintiff; complimented them on the ingenuity they had displayed in making "the worst appear the better cause," by telling half the truth and ignoring the other half; but warned the court at the same time
"That a lie which is half a truth, is ever the blackest of lies,
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright;
But a lie which is part a truth, is a harder matter to fight."