The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain Part 53

"The woman," continued c.o.ke, "was convicted, and here follows the sentence of the judge.

"Martha Dotinghed--you have been convicted by the verdict of twelve as intelligent and respectable gentlemen as I ever saw in a jury-box; convicted, I am sorry to say, very properly, of a most heinous crime, that of attempting to work out your salvation in an improper manner--to wit, by making illegally free with the Word of G.o.d.

"'In troth, my lord,' replied the culprit, 'the Word of G.o.d is become so scarce nowadays, that unless one steals it, they have but a poor chance of coming by it honestly, or hearing it at all'."

"You have been convicted, I say, notwithstanding a most able defence by your counsel, who omitted no argument that could prove available for your acquittal; and I am sorry to hear from your own lips, that you are in no degree penitent for the crime you have committed. You say, the Word of G.o.d is scarce nowadays--but that fact, unhappy woman, only aggravates your guilt--for in proportion to the scarcity of the Word of G.o.d, so is its value increased--and we all know that the greater the value of that which is stolen, the deeper, in the eye of the law, is the crime of the thief. Had you not given utterance to those impenitent expressions, the court would have been anxious to deal mercifully with you. As it is, I tell you to prepare for the heaviest punishment it can inflict, which is, that you be compelled to read some one of the Commentaries upon the Book you have stolen, once, at least, before you die, should you live so long, and may G.o.d have mercy on you!

"Here the prisoner fell into strong hysterics, and was taken away in a state of insensibility from the dock.

"Now," proceeded c.o.ke, closing the ponderous tome, "I read this case from a feeling that it bears very strongly upon that before us.

Saponificus, the learned and animated civilian, in his reply to the celebrated treatise of '_Rigramarolius de Libris priggatis,_' commonly called his _Essay on Stolen Books_, a.s.serts that there never yet was a book printed but was more or less stolen; and society, he argues, in no shape, in none of its cla.s.ses--neither in the prison, lockup, blackhole, or penitentiary--presents us with such a set of impenitents and irreclaimable thieves as those who write books. Theft is their profession, and gets them the dishonest bread by which they live. These may always read the eighth commandment by leaving the negative out, and then take it in an injunctive sense. Such persons, in prosecuting another for stealing a book, cannot come into court with clean hands.

Felons in literature, therefore, appear here with a very bad grace in prosecuting others for the very crime which they themselves are in the habit of committing."

"But, your worship," said Dr. A----, "this charge against authors cannot apply to me; the book in question is a translation."

"Pooh!" exclaimed c.o.ke, "only a translation! But even so, has it notes or comments?"

"It has, your worship; but they--"

"And, sir, could you declare solemnly, that there is nothing stolen in the notes and comments, or introduction, if there is any?"

The doctor, "Ehem! hem!"

"But in the meantime," proceeded c.o.ke, "here have I gone to the trouble of giving such a profound decision upon a mere translation! Who is the translator?"

"I am myself, your worship; and in this case I am both plaintiff and translator."

"That, however," said c.o.ke, shaking his head solemnly, "makes the case against you still worse."

"But, your worship, there is no case against me. I have already told you that I am plaintiff and translator; and, with great respect, I don't think you have yet given any decision whatever."

"I have decided, sir," replied c.o.ke, "and taken the case I read for you as a precedent."

"But in that case, your worship, the woman was convicted."

"And so she is in this, sir," replied c.o.ke. "Officer, put Biddy Corcoran forward. Biddy Corcoran, you are an old woman, which, indeed, is evident from the nature of your offence, and have been convicted of the egregious folly of purchasing a translation, which this gentleman says was compiled or got up by himself. This is conduct which the court cannot overlook, inasmuch as if it were persisted in, we might, G.o.d help us, become inundated with translations. I am against translations--I have ever been against them, and I shall ever be against them. They are immoral in themselves, and render the same injury to literature that persons of loose morals do to society. In general, they are nothing short of a sacrilegious profanation of the dead, and I would almost as soon see the ghost of a departed friend as the translation of a defunct author, for they bear the same relation. The regular translator, in fact, is nothing less than a literary ghoul, who lives upon the mangled carca.s.ses of the departed--a mere sack-'em-up, who disinters the dead, and sells their remains for money. You, sir, might have been better and more honestly employed than in wasting your time upon a translation.

These are works that no men or cla.s.s of men, except bishops, chandlers, and pastrycooks, ought to have anything to do with; and as you, I presume, are not a bishop, nor a chandler, nor a pastrycook, I recommend you to spare your countrymen in future. Biddy Corcoran, as the court is determined to punish you severely, the penalty against you is, that you be compelled to read the translation in question once a week for the next three months. I had intended to send you to the treadmill for the same s.p.a.ce of time: but, on looking more closely into the nature of your offence, I felt it my duty to visit you with a much severer punishment."

"That, your worship," replied the translator, "is no punishment at all; instead of that, it will be a pleasure to read my translation, and as you have p.r.o.nounced her to be guilty, it goes in the very teeth of your decision."

"What--what--what kind of language is this, sir?" exclaimed Sir Spigot Sputter! "This is disrespect to the court, sir. In the teeth of his decision! His worship's decision, sir, has no teeth."

"Indeed, on second thoughts, I think not, sir," replied, the indignant wit and translator; "it is indeed a very toothless decision, and exceedingly appropriate in pa.s.sing sentence upon an old woman in the same state."

"Eh--eh," said Sir Spigot, "which old woman? who do you mean, sir?

Yourself or the culprit? Eh? eh?"

"Your worship forgets that there are four of us," replied the translator.

"Well, sir! well, sir! But as to the culprit--that old woman there--having no teeth, that is not her fault," replied Sir Spigot; "if she hasn't teeth, she has gum enough--eh! eh! you must admit that, sir."

"You all appear to have gum enough," replied the wit, "and nothing but gum, only it is gum arabic to me, I know."

"You have treated this court with disrespect, sir," said c.o.ke, very solemnly; "but the court will uphold its dignity. In the meantime you are fined half-a-crown."

"But, your worship," whispered Darby, "this is the celebrated Dr. A----, a very eminent man."

"I have just heard, sir," proceeded c.o.ke, "from the senior officer of the court, that you are a very eminent man; it may be so, and I am very sorry for it. I have never heard your name, however, nor a syllable of your literary reputation, before; but as it seems you are an eminent man, I take it for granted that it must be in a private and confidential way among your particular friends. I will fine you, however, another half-crown for the eminence."

"Well, gentlemen," replied the doctor, "I have heard of many 'wise saws and modern instances,' but--"

"What do you mean, sir?" said Sir Spigot. "Another insult! You a.s.serted, sir, already, that Mr. c.o.ke's decision had teeth--"

"But I admitted my error," replied the other.

"And now you mean to insinuate, I suppose, that his worship's saws are handsaws. You are fined another half-crown, sir, for the handsaw."

"And another," said c.o.ke, "for the _gum arabic_."

The doctor fearing that the fines would increase thick and threefold, forthwith paid them all, and retired indignantly from the court.

And thus was the author of certainly one of the most beautiful translations in any language, at least in his own opinion, treated by these two worthy administrators of the law. (* A fact.)

CHAPTER XXVI. The Priest Returns Sir Thomas's Money and Pistols

--A Bit of Controversy--A New Light Begins to Appear.

Very fortunately for the priest he was not subjected to an examination before these worthies. Sir Thomas Gourlay, having heard of his arrest and the cause of it, sent a note with his compliments, to request that he might be conducted directly to his residence, together with his pocket-book and pistols, a.s.suring them, at the same time, that their officers had committed a gross mistake as to his person.

This was quite sufficient, and ere the lapse of twenty minutes Father M'Mahon, accompanied by Skipton and another officer, found himself at the baronet's hall-door. On entering the hall, Sir Thomas himself was in the act of pa.s.sing from the breakfast parlor to his study above stairs, leaning upon the arm of Gibson, the footman, looking at the same time pale, nervous, and unsteady upon his limbs. The moment Skipton saw him, he started, and exclaimed, as if to himself, but loud enough for the priest to hear him:

"'Gad! I've seen him before, once upon a time; and well I remember the face, for it is not one to be forgotten."

The baronet, on looking round, saw the priest, and desired him to follow them to his study.

"I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas," said the officer, "we now place his reverence safely in your hands; here, too, is your pocket-book and pistols."

"Hand them to him, sir," replied the baronet, nodding toward the priest; "and that is enough."

"But, Sir Thomas--"

"What is it, sir? Have you not done your duty?"

"I hope so, sir; but if it would not be troublesome, sir, perhaps you would give us a receipt; an acknowledgment, sir."