The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit Part 23

"O," said my wife, "pray don't go on to a fifthly-it seems to me poor Naboth is like to have a sorry time of it before he establish his boundary line."

"Ay, if he ever do so: but he first is got into the hands of his Lawyers, next into the hands of his Counsel, thirdly, into Chancery, fourthly, into debt-"

"Pray, do not let us have a fifthly here either; I like not these thirdlys and fourthlys, for they seem to bring poor Naboth into bad case; but what said you about debt?"

"I say that Naboth, not being a wealthy man, but, as I take it, somewhat in the position of neighbour b.u.mpkin, will soon be forced to part with a good deal of his little property in order to carry on the action."

"But will not the action be tried in a reasonable time, say a week or two?"

"I perceive," cried I, "that you are yet in the very springtide and babyhood of innocence in these matters. There must be summonses for time and for further time; there must be particulars and interrogatories and discoveries and inspections and strikings out and puttings in and appeals and demurrers and references and-"

"O, please don't. I perceive that poor Naboth is already ruined a long way back. I think when you came to the interrogatories he was in want of funds to carry on the action."

"A Chancery action sometimes takes years," said I.

"Years! then shame to our Parliament."

"I pray you do not take on so," said I. "Naboth, according to the decree of Fate, is to be ruined. Jezebel did it in a wicked, clumsy and brutal manner. Anyone could see she was wrong, and her name has been handed down to us with infamy and execration. I now desire to show how Ahab could have accomplished his purpose in a gentle, manly and scientific manner and saved his wife's reputation. Naboth's action, carried as it would be from Court to Court upon every possible point upon which an appeal can go, under our present system, would effectually ruin him ages before the boundary line could be settled. It would be all swallowed up in costs."

"Poor Naboth!" said my wife.

"And," continued I, "the law reports would hand down the _cause celebre_ of _Ahab_ v. _Naboth_ as a most interesting leading case upon the subject of goodness knows what: perhaps as to whether a man, under certain circ.u.mstances, may not alter his neighbour's landmark in spite of the statute law of Moses."

"And so you think poor Naboth would be sold up?"

"That were about the only certain event in his case, except that Ahab would take possession and so put an end for ever to the question as to where the boundary line should run."

Here again I dozed.

CHAPTER XVII.

Shewing that lay tribunals are not exactly Punch and Judy shows where the puppet is moved by the man underneath.

It was particularly fortunate for Mr. b.u.mpkin that his case was not in the list of causes to be tried on the following day. It may seem a curious circ.u.mstance to the general reader that a great case like _b.u.mpkin_ v. _Snooks_, involving so much expense of time, trouble, and money should be in the list one day and out the next; should be sometimes in the list of one Court and sometimes in the list of another; flying about like a b.u.t.terfly from flower to flower and caught by no one on the look-out for it. But this is not a phenomenon in our method of procedure, which startles you from time to time with its miraculous effects. You can calculate upon nothing in the system but its uncertainty. Most gentle and innocent reader, I saw that there was no Nisi Prius Court to sit on the following day, so _b.u.mpkin_ v. _Snooks_ could not be taken, list or no list. The lucky Plaintiff therefore found himself at liberty to appear before that August Tribunal which sits at the Mansion House in the City of London. A palatial and imposing building it was on the outside, but within, so far as was apparent to me, it was a narrow ill ventilated den, full of all unclean people and unpleasant smells. I say full of unclean people, but I allude merely to that portion of it which was appropriated to the British Public; for, exalted on a high bench and in a huge and ponderous chair or throne sat the Prince of Citizens and the King of the Corporation, proud in his dignity, grand in his commercial position, and highly esteemed in the opinion of the world. There he sat, the representative of the Criminal Law, and impartial, as all will allow, in its administration. Wonderful being is my Lord Mayor, thought I, he must have the Law at his fingers'

ends. Yes, there it is sitting under him in the shape and person of his truly respectable clerk. The Common Law resides in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the Judges, but it is here at my Lord Mayor's fingers' ends. He has to deal with gigantic commercial frauds; with petty swindlers, common thieves; mighty combinations of conspirators; with extradition laws; with elaborate bankruptcy delinquencies; with the niceties of the criminal law in every form and shape. Surely, thought I, he should be one of those tremendous geniuses who can learn the criminal law before breakfast, or at least before dinner! So he was. His lordship seemed to have learned it one morning before he was awake. But it is not for me to criticise tribunals or men: I have the simple duty to perform of relating the story of the renowned Mr. b.u.mpkin.

After the night charges are disposed of up comes the man through the floor, not Mr. b.u.mpkin, but Mr. b.u.mpkin's prisoner. He comes up through the floor like the imp in the pantomime: and then the two tall warders prevent his going any farther.

He was a pale, intelligent looking creature, fairly dressed in frock coat, dark waistcoat and grey trousers, with a glove on his left hand and another in his right; looked meekly and modestly round, and then politely bowed to the Lord Mayor. The charge was then read to him and with a smile he indignantly repudiated the idea of theft.

And I saw in my dream that he was represented by a learned Counsel, who at this moment entered the Court, shook hands with the Lord Mayor, and saying, "I appear, my lord, for the prisoner," took his seat upon the bench, and entered for a minute or so into some private and apparently jocular conversation with his Lordship.

The name of the learned Counsel was Mr. Nimble, whom we have before seen.

He was a very goodly-shaped man, with a thin face and brown hair. His eyes were bright, and always seemed to look into a witness rather than at him. His manner was jaunty, good-natured, easy, and gay; not remarkable for courtesy, but at the same time, not unpleasantly rude. I thought the learned Counsel could be disagreeable if he liked, but might be a very pleasant, sociable fellow to spend an hour with-not in the witness-box.

He was certainly a skilful and far-seeing Counsel, if I may make so bold as to judge from this case. And methought that nothing he did or said was said or done without a purpose. Nor could I help thinking that a good many Counsel, young and old, if their minds were free from prejudice, might learn many lessons from this case. It is with this object that, in my waking moments, I record the impressions of this dream. I do not say Mr. Nimble was an example to follow on all points, for he had that common failing of humanity, a want of absolute perfection. But he was as near to perfection in defending a prisoner as any man I ever saw, and the proceedings in this very case, if carefully a.n.a.lysed, will go a long way towards proving that a.s.sertion.

After the interchange of courtesies between his Lordship and Mr. Nimble, the learned Counsel looked down from the Bench on to the top of Mr.

Keepimstraight's bald head and nodded as if he were patting it. Mr.

Keepimstraight was the Lord Mayor's Clerk. He was very stout and seemed puffed up with law: had an immense regard for himself and consequently very little for anybody else: but that, so far as I have been able to ascertain, is a somewhat common failing among official personages. He ordered everybody about except the Lord Mayor, and him he seemed to push about as though he were wheeling him in a legal Bath-chair. His Lordship was indeed a great invalid in respect to matters of law; I think he had overdone it, if I may use the expression; his study must have been tremendous to have acquired a knowledge of the laws of England in so short a time. But being somewhat feeble, and in his modesty much mis...o...b..ing his own judgment, he did nothing and said nothing, except it was prescribed by his physician, Dr. Keepimstraight. Even the solicitors stood in awe of Dr. Keepimstraight.

And now we are all going to begin-Walk up!

The intelligent and decent-looking prisoner having been told what the charge against him was, namely, Highway Robbery with violence, declares that he is as "innercent as the unborn babe, your lordship:" and then Mr.

Keepimstraight asks, where the Prosecutor is-"Prosecutor!" shout a dozen voices at once-all round, everywhere is the cry of "Prosecutor!" There was no answer, but in the midst of the unsavoury crowd there was seen to be a severe scuffle-whether it was a fight or a man in a fit could not be ascertained for some time; at length Mr. b.u.mpkin was observed struggling and tearing to escape from the throng.

"Why don't you come when you are called?" asks the Junior Clerk, handing him the Testament, as Mr. b.u.mpkin stood revealed in the witness-box.

And I saw that he was dressed in a light frock, not unlike a pinafore, which was tastefully wrought with divers patterns of needlework on the front and back thereof; at the openings thus embroidered could be seen a waistcoat of many stripes, that crossed and recrossed one another at various angles and were formed of several colours. He wore a high calico shirt collar, which on either side came close under the ear; and round his neck a red handkerchief with yellow ends. His linen certainly did credit to Mrs. b.u.mpkin's love of "tidiness," and altogether the prosecutor wore a clean and respectable appearance. His face was broad, round and red, indicating a jovial disposition and a temperament not easily disturbed, except when "whate" was down too low to sell and he wanted to buy stock or pay the rent: a state of circ.u.mstances which I believe has sometimes happened of late years. A white short-clipped beard covered his chin, while his cheeks were closely shaven. He had twinkling oval eyes, which I should say, he invariably half-closed when he was making a bargain. If you offered less than his price the first refusal would come from them. His nose was inexpressive and appeared to have been a dormant feature for many a year. It said nothing for or against any thing or any body, and from its tip sprouted a few white hairs. His mouth, without utterance, said plainly enough that he owed "n.o.body nothink" and was a thousand pound man every morning he rose. It was a mouth of good bore, and not by any means intended for a silver spoon.

Such was the Prosecutor as he stood in the witness-box at the Mansion House on this memorable occasion; and no one could doubt that truth and justice would prevail.

"Name?" said Mr. Keepimstraight.

"b.u.mpkin."

Down it goes.

"Where?"

After a pause, which Mr. Nimble makes a note of.

"Where?" repeats Keepimstraight.

"Westminister."

"Where there?"

"'Goose' publichouse."

Down it goes.

"Yes?" says Keepimstraight.

b.u.mpkin stares.

"Yes, go on," says the clerk.

"Go on," says the crier; "go on," say half-a-dozen voices all round.

"Can't you go on?" says the clerk.

"Tell your story," says his Lordship, putting his arms on the elbows of the huge chair. "Tell it in your own way, my man."

"I wur gwine down thic place when-" "my man" began.