THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
“I beseech you,
Wrest once the law to your authority:
To do a great right, do a little wrong.”—
Merchant of Venice.
The reign of violence, when an evil at all, is an evil which remedies itself: the severity of its proceeding hastens the accomplishment of its end, as the hottest fire soonest consumes its fuel. A nation will endure oppression more patiently immediately after a spasmodic rebellion or a bloody revolution, than at any other time; and a community requires less law to govern it, after a violent and illegal assertion of the law's supremacy, than was necessary before the outbreak. After having thrown off the yoke of a knave—and perhaps hung the knave up by the neck, or chopped his head off with an axe—mankind not unfrequently fall under the control of a fool; frightened at their temerity in dethroning an idol of metal, they bow down before a paltry statue of wood.
Men are not easily satiated with power, but when it is irregular, a pause in its exercise must eventually come. And there is a principle of human nature, which teaches, that whatsoever partakes of the mob-spirit is, at best, but temporary, and ought to have a speedy end. This is especially true of such men as first permanently peopled the western country; for though they sometimes committed high-handed and unjustifiable acts, the moment it was discovered that they had accomplished the purposes of order, they allowed the means of vindication to fall into disuse. The regulator system, for example, was directed to the stern and thorough punishment of evil men, but no sooner was society freed from their depredations, than the well-meaning citizens withdrew from its ranks; and, though regulator companies still patrolled the country, and, for a time, assumed as much authority as ever, they were not supported by the solid approbation of those who alone could give them lasting strength. They did many outrageous things for which they were never punished, and for some years, the shield which the good citizen had raised above his head for protection and defence, threatened to fall upon and crush him. But the western people are not the first who have been temporarily enslaved by their liberators, though, unlike many another race, they waited patiently for the changes of years, and time brought them a remedy.
As the government waxed stronger, and public opinion assumed a direction, the regulators, like their predecessors, the rangers, found their “occupation gone,” and gradually faded out from the land. Proclamations were issued—legislatures met—laws were enacted, and officers appointed to execute them; and though forcing a legal system upon a people who had so long been “a law unto themselves,” was a slow and difficult process, it was powerfully assisted by the very disorders consequent upon their attempts at self-government. They had burnt their hands by seizing the hot iron-rod of irregular authority, and were, therefore, better inclined to surrender the baton to those who could handle it. Like Frankenstein, they had created a power which they could not immediately control: the regulators, from being their servants, had come to be their masters: and they willingly admitted any authority which promised deliverance. They had risen in wrath, and chastised, with no hesitating hand, the violators of their peace; but the reaction had taken place, and they were now content to be governed by whatsoever ruler Providence might send them.
The state governments were established, then, without difficulty, and the officers of the new law pervaded every settlement. The character which I have selected as the best representative of this period, is one of these new officers—the early justice of the peace.
So far as history or tradition informs us, there was never yet a country in which appointments to office were invariably made with reference only to qualification, and though the west is an exception to more than one general rule, in this respect we must set it down in the common category. The lawyer-period had not yet arrived; and, probably, there was never an equal number of people in any civilized country, of whom a larger proportion were totally ignorant of legal forms. There were not three in each hundred who had ever seen the inside of a courthouse, and they were quite as few who had once looked upon a law-book! Where such was the case, some principle of appointment was of course necessary, other than that which required fitness, by training, for the office conferred; and it is probable that the rule adopted was but little different to that in force among those who have the appointing power, where no such circumstances restrict the choice.
Men were appointed conservators of the peace, because they had distinguished themselves in war; and he who had assumed the powers of the law, as a regulator, was thought the better qualified to exercise them, as a legal officer! Courage and capacity, as an Indian-fighter, gave one the prominence requisite to his appointment; and zeal for the preservation of order, exhibited as a self-constituted judge and executioner, was a guaranty for the faithful performance of new and regular duties.
Nor was the rule a bad one. A justice of the peace chosen upon this principle, possessed two qualities indispensable to an efficient officer, in the times of which we write—he was prompt in the discharge of his duties, and was not afraid of responsibility. To obviate the danger, however, which might arise from these, he had also a rigid sense of justice, which usually guided his determinations according to the rights of parties in interest. This, the lawyers will say, was a very questionable trait for a judicial officer; and perhaps it is better for society, that a judge should know the law, and administer it without reference to abstract justice, than that his own notions of right and wrong should be taken, however conscientiously, as the standard of judgment: for in that case, we shall, at least, have uniformity of adjudication; whereas, nothing is more uncertain, than a man's convictions of right.