“Lord bless you, no. In court, unless the jury happen to be unusually excellent, counsel have to pay some little regard to the testimony and the law; but, in horse-shedding, one has no need of either. A skilful horse-shedder, for instance, will talk a party to pieces, and not say a word about the case. That’s the perfection of the business. It’s against the law, you know, Mr. Dunscomb, to talk of a case before a juror—an indictable offence—but one may make a case of a party’s general character, of his means, his miserly qualities, or his aristocracy; and it will be hard to get hold of the talker for any of them qualities. Aristocracy, of late years, is a capital argument, and will suit almost any state of facts, or any action you can bring. Only persuade the jury that the plaintiff or defendant fancies himself better than they are, and the verdict is certain. I got a thousand dollars in the Springer case, solely on that ground. Aristocracy did it! It is going to do us a great deal of harm in this murder and arson indictment.”
“But Mary Monson is no aristocrat—she is a stranger, and unknown. What privileges does she enjoy, to render her obnoxious to the charge of aristocracy?”
“More than will do her any good. Her aristocracy does her almost as much harm in old Duke’s as the piece of gold. I always consider a cause as half lost, when there is any aristocracy in it.”
“Aristocracy means exclusive political privileges in the hands of a few; and it means nothing else. Now, what exclusive political privileges does this unfortunate young woman enjoy? She is accused of two of the highest crimes known to the laws; is indicted, imprisoned, and will be tried.”
“Yes, and by her peers,” said Timms, taking out a very respectable-looking box, and helping himself liberally to a pinch of cut tobacco. “It’s wonderful, ’Squire Dunscomb, how much breadth the peerage possesses in this country! I saw a trial, a year or two since, in which one of the highest intellects of the land was one of the parties, and in which a juror asked the judge to explain the meaning of the word ‘bereaved.’ That citizen had his rights referred to his peers, with a vengeance!”
“Yes; the venerable maxim of the common law is, occasionally, a little caricatured among us. This is owing to our adhering to antiquated opinions after the facts in which they had their origin have ceased to exist. But, by your manner of treating the subject, Timms, I infer that you give up the aristocracy.”
“Not at all. Our client will have more risks to run on account of that, than on account of any other weak spot in her case. I think we might get along with the piece of gold, as a life is in question; but it is not quite so easy to see how we are to get along with the aristocracy.”
“And this in the face of her imprisonment, solitary condition, friendless state, and utter dependence on strangers for her future fate? I see no one feature of aristocracy to reproach her with.”
“But I see a great many, and so does the neighbourhood. It is already getting to be the talk of half the county. In short, all are talking about it, but they who know better. You’ll see, ’Squire Dunscomb, there are two sorts of aristocracy in the eyes of most people; your sort, and my sort. Your sort is a state of society that gives privileges and power to a few, and keeps it there. That is what I call old-fashioned aristocracy, about which nobody cares anything in this country. We have no such aristocrats, I allow, and consequently they don’t signify a straw.”
“Yet they are the only true aristocrats, after all. But what, or who are yours.”