“I submit, your honour, and acknowledge the justice of the reproof,” answered Williams. “I now move the court, on behalf of the District Attorney, that Mary Monson, who stands indicted for murder and arson, be arraigned, and her pleas entered——”
“I could wish this step might be delayed until I can hear from the leading counsel for the defence,” objected Timms, “which must now occur in the course of a very few hours.”
“I perceive that the prisoner is a female,” said the judge, in a tone of regret.
“Yes, your honour; she is, and young and handsome, they tell me,” answered Williams; “for I have never been able to get a sight of her. She is too much of a great lady to be seen at a grate, by all I can learn of her and her proceedings. Plays on the harp, sir; has a French valet de chambre, or something of that sort——”
“This is all wrong, Mr. Williams, and must be checked,” again interposed the judge, though very mildly; for, while his experience taught him that the object of such remarks was to create prejudice, and his conscience prompted him to put an end to a proceeding so unrighteous, he stood in so much awe of this particular counsel, who had half a dozen presses at his command, that it required a strong inducement to bring him out as he ought to be, in opposition to any of his more decided movements. As for the community, with the best intentions as a whole, it stood passive under this gross wrong. What ‘is everybody’s business’ is literally ‘nobody’s business,’ when the public virtue is the great moving power; the upright preferring their ease to everything else, and the ill-disposed manifesting the ceaseless activity of the wicked. All the ancient barriers to this species of injustice, which have been erected by the gathered wisdom of our fathers and the experience of ages, have been thrown down by the illusions of a seeming liberty, and the whole machinery of justice is left very much at the mercy of an outside public opinion, which, in itself, is wielded by a few of the worst men in the country. These are sober truths, as a close examination will show to any one who may choose to enter into the investigation of the ungrateful subject. It is not what is said, we very well know; but it is what is done.
Williams received the mild rebuke of the judge like one who felt his position; paying very little respect to its spirit or its letter. He knew his own power, and understood perfectly well that this particular magistrate was soon to run for a new term of office, and might be dealt with more freely on that account.
“I know it is very wrong, your honour—very wrong”—rejoined the wily counsel to what had been said—“so wrong, that I regard it as an insult to the State. When a person is capitally indicted, man or woman, it is his or her bounden duty to put all overboard, that there may be no secrets. The harp was once a sacred instrument, and it is highly improper to introduce it into our gaols and criminals’ cells——”
“There is no criminal as yet—no crime can be established without proof, and the verdict of twelve good men and true,” interrupted Timms—“I object, therefore, to the learned counsel’s remarks, and——”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” put in the judge, a little more pointedly than in his former rebuke—“this is all wrong, I repeat.”
“You perceive, my brother Timms,” rejoined the indomitable Williams, “the court is altogether against you. This is not a country of lords and ladies, fiddles and harps, but of the people; and when the people find a bill for a capital offence, capital care should be taken not to give more offence.”