Cato.
Within the half hour mentioned by Dunscomb the court-house bell rang, and there was a rush towards that building, in order to secure seats for the approaching trial. All that has been related in the preceding chapter occurred between the hours of six and nine that morning, it being one of the “ways of the hour” in the march of improvement, to drive the administration of justice with as near an approach to railroad speed as is practicable. Many of the modern judges go to work as early as eight in the morning—perhaps most do in the country circuits—and continue to call causes until nine and ten at night, illustrating the justice of the land by means of agents who are half asleep, and stupid from fatigue.
We have said that everything like dignity, except as it is to be found in the high character of its duties, and the manner in which they are performed, has been banished from the courts of New York. Even on this solemn occasion, when a human being was to be put on trial for her life, and she a woman, there was no departure from the naked simplicity that has been set up on the pedestal of reason, in open opposition to the ancient accessories by which the Law asserted its power. It remains to be seen whether human nature has not been as much over-estimated under the new arrangement as it was underrated by the old. There is a medium, in truth, that it is ever safe to respect; and there is reason to apprehend that in throwing away the useless vestments of idle parade, those necessary to decency were cast aside with them.
Quite a fourth of the audience assembled in Duke’s county court-house, on this occasion, were females. The curiosity, which is said to be so natural to the sex, was, on this occasion, quickened by the peculiar circumstances of the case, a woman having been murdered, and a woman accused of having committed the offence. It was said, however, that many were summoned as witnesses, it being generally understood that the state had subpœnaed the country far and near.
At length, a general and expecting silence succeeded the bustle of the crowds entering and obtaining seats, and the eyes of the spectators were very generally turned towards the door, in the wish to get a glimpse of the principal personage in the approaching scene. We know not why it is that the spectacle of others’ woes has so great a charm for most persons. Nature has given us sympathy, and compassion, and a desire to alleviate misery; yet most of us like to look upon it, as a mere spectacle, when we have neither the wish nor the power to be more than useless spectators. Thousands will assemble to see a man hanged, when all know that the law has a grasp too tight to be unloosed, and that the circle of the gallows is no place for feelings of commiseration. But, so it is; and many a female, that day, who would have gladly alleviated any distress that it was in her power to lessen, sat there, a curious and interested observer of all that passed; to note the workings of the countenance, the writhings of the inner soul, if any such there should be, or the gleams of hope, that might, at intervals, lighten the gloom of despair.
The court was occupied for half an hour with hearing motions, and in granting orders, nothing seeming to impede its utilitarian progress. Then the movement within the bar ceased, and an expectation that was even solemn, fell on the whole mass of human beings that were collected in that narrow space.
“This is the day for which the trial of Mary Monson was, by arrangement, set down,” observed the judge. “Mr. District Attorney, are you ready?”
“We are, sir—entirely so, I believe. If the court please, Mr. Williams and Mr. Wright will be associated with me in this case. It is one of importance, and I do not like the responsibility of trying it alone.”
“The court has so understood it—who is for the accused?”
“I am retained to defend Mary Monson,” answered Dunscomb, rising with dignity, and speaking with the self-possession of one long accustomed to the courts. “Mr. Timms will assist me.”