VIII
THE LOG TEMPLE OF JUSTICE
Most of those dauntless soldiers, who first bore the cross through thewilderness were as ready to fight as to pray--as they had to be. Nopower of earth or evil which he had been able to combat could haveturned young Peter Cartwright that day or have held him back. Pressingon without rest or food, he was in time to preach. When this duty wasdone, he returned over the Shawnee Crossing and rode straight to thecourt-house. To go there was in his eyes the next service due the Word.
The court-house was a single large, low room built of rough logs, andstanding in the depths of the primeval forest. Great trees arched theirbranches over its roof and the immemorial "Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes,"went up through their heavy dark tops. It must have been strange thus tohear this formal summons before the bar of human justice, strange indeedto see the precise motion of man's law in so wild a spot. Roundaboutthere still stretched the wilderness which is subject only to nature'slaw--the one immutable law which takes no heed of justice or mercy;which recks neither man's needs nor his deserts.
The court-house in the wilderness stood quite alone, with no otherbuilding near. There was not even a fence round it, nor so much as ahitching-post in front of the rude door which was rarely closed. Thosewho came--the judge, the jury, the lawyers, the clients, thespectators--all hitched their horses to the swinging limbs of the trees.The sole sign of man's handiwork, beyond the log walls of thecourt-house itself, was a crude attempt at bridge-building. A creek ranbetween the court-house and the home of Judge Knox, who was the judge ofthe court, and over this a few rough boards had been loosely laid acrosstwo rotting logs. The structure being both weak and unsteady, it was thejudge's habit to dismount on coming to the bridge and to cross it onfoot, leading his horse by the bridle. It was then but a stone's throwto the court-house, and as he was heavy, clumsy, and an awkward rider,he did not mount again, but walked on till he came to the spot where healways stopped to tie the bridle to the same limb. And there heinvariably tied it in his absent-minded way, without ever thinking oflooking round to see if the horse was tied with the bridle. Sometimes hewas and again he was not, for this was as that sagacious and dignifiedanimal himself thought best. He commonly made up his mind upon thispoint when they got to the bridge, where he could tell easily enough bythe judge's gait in crossing over, whether or not it would be advisableto follow. If the horse then saw fit to turn back and go home, as a hintto the family to send for the judge at the proper time, he neverhesitated to pull his head out of the old bridle which he could do veryeasily. So that the judge sometimes went on and tied the empty bridle inthe usual place, never knowing the difference; while his horse calmlyturned round and soberly walked back to the stable. Seeing him thus passthe windows, the good people of Cedar House sighed a little, and shooktheir heads, but they nevertheless always knew exactly what to do.
On this late October day, however, the horse followed the judge withoutdemur, assured by his own observation that all was right. The judge,honest, simple soul, rarely failed to turn over a new leaf and make afresh start on the morning after the meeting of the grand jury, whichgravely and respectfully found an indictment against him almost asregularly at it met. He had already assessed and--gravely ordering itwritten up--paid his own fine on this occasion without a murmur, as healways did, and he was now quite sober and ready to resume his place onthe bench. He had held it for a long time to the public satisfaction;and he continued to hold it for many years afterward with honor,ability, and distinction, notwithstanding these occasional lapses. Hisone weakness was of course well known but his profound knowledge of thelaw, and his unimpeachable integrity were still better known. It wassaid of him that he never had anything to say which could not be shoutedout from the court-house door. And these qualities were sorely needed onthe bench of the wilderness, more sorely needed at this time than everbefore or since.
The whole country had lately been overrun by open and defiantlawlessness. It was fast coming to be known far and wide as "Rogue'sHarbor." It had already become the recognized refuge and hiding-place ofthe outcasts from the older states. The breakers of all laws human anddivine,--the makers of counterfeit money, the forgers of land titles,the stealers of horses, robbers, murderers, thieves and criminals ofevery sort and condition, the fine gentleman and the ruffian, theduelist and the assassin--all these were now flocking to Rogue's Harbor.Once there, they were not long content merely to find a hiding placefrom the wrath of broken law and outraged civilization. They were soonseeking and finding opportunity to commit other and worse offences. Itwas no longer a secret that regular stations of outlawry were firmlyestablished between Natchez on the one side and Duff's Fort, on theother. The most dreaded of these were known to be within the new state'sborder along the line of the Wilderness Road, although the law had notbeen able to lay its hand upon them. And thus was southern Kentucky nowbound, blinded and helpless, in a long, strong, bloody chain of crime.
It was knowing this and feeling his own responsibility and powerlessnessthat made the judge's good-humored face stern on that October morning.It was this which made his absent-minded eyes clear and keen as he drewnear the court-house. He had come earlier than usual but others, equallyanxious, were there before him. And then the court-house was in a waythe mart of the whole region, especially for the sale of horses.Rough-looking men with the marks of the stable and the race-track uponthem, were riding the best quarter nags up and down the forest path andpointing out the delicate leg, the well-proportioned head, and theelegant form, which made the traits of the first race-horses inKentucky. Foremost among these first men of the turf was Tommy Dye,scanning the quarter nags with a trained eye. As soon as the judge sawhim, he knew that General Jackson was not far away, for wherever thegeneral went, there also was to be found his faithful henchman, TommyDye. It was he who arranged the cockfights in which the generaldelighted, declaring a game cock to be the bravest thing alive. It washe who was always trying to find for him a race-horse which could beatCaptain Haynie's Maria. This famous racer had beaten the general'sDecatur in that year's sweepstakes, and he had sworn by his strongestoath that he would find a horse to beat her if there was one in theworld that could do it. But Tommy Dye and other eager, tireless agentsof the general had already searched far and wide. They had gone over allthe horse-raising states with a drag-net, they had sent as far as othercountries. And no horse which even promised to beat Maria had yet beenfound, so that the general's defeat was still rankling bitterly, for itwas the bitterest that he had ever met or ever was to meet. He did notfeel his defeat in the first race for the Presidency nearly so deeplyand keenly as this; and then that was afterward retrieved by a mostbrilliant victory. But, as a friend once said of him--although he wenton achieving great victories of many kinds, overcoming powerful enemies,conquering the Indians, subduing the lawless, defying the Spanish andthe French, vanquishing the British and slaying single-handed the Dragonof the Bank--he could never find a horse to beat Maria.
But he was still trying everywhere and under all circumstances howeverunpromising. On that day he cast anxious glances through the open doorof the log court-house at the horses which Tommy Dye, in a forlorn hope,was having paraded up and down the forest path. He turned away with asigh, and went on talking to the United States Attorney for Kentucky atwhose request he had come to the court-house that day. He had done forhis own territory in a lesser degree, the identical thing which JosephHamilton Daviess was desperately striving to do for this country; and hehad consented to give him the benefit of his own experience, and toadvise him as to ways and means. These were always strenuous with AndrewJackson, and Joe Daviess himself was not a man of half measures. In mindand body he was quite as powerful as the man to whom he now listenedwith such profound deference. He was also a handsomer man and younger.He was fully as tall, too, with as lordly a bearing; the most markedcontrast in their appearance being in their dress. General Jackson worebroadcloth of the cut seen in all his older portraits; Joe Daviess worebuckskin breeches
and a hunting shirt belted at the waist, both richlyfringed on the leg and sleeve. The suit was the same that he had wornwhen he rode over the Alleghanies to Washington, to plead the historiccase before the Supreme Court. But the rudest garb could never make himseem other than the courtly gentleman that he was. He was a scholarmoreover, and a writer of books. A great mind, and ever eager to learn,he now stood listening to General Jackson with the humility of truegreatness. He bowed to the judge, seeing him enter, but he did not moveor cease to listen. His grave, intent face brightened suddenly as if alight had passed over it, when he saw Father Orin's merry, ruddycountenance look in at the open door. He and the priest were closefriends, although they held widely different faiths, and argued fiercelyover their differences of opinion whenever they met--and had time--andnotwithstanding that neither ever yielded to the other so much as asingle hair's breadth.
Father Orin now came straight toward him, merely nodding and smiling atthose whom he passed, and reaching Joe Daviess' side, he coolly ran hishand deep down in his friend's pocket, precisely as if it had been hisown. The attorney-general made believe to strike out backward with hisleft hand--his right being full of papers. But he laughed, and he didnot turn his head to see how much money the priest had taken and wascalmly transferring to his own pocket. And then, chuckling and noddinghis gray head, Father Orin quietly made his way round the court room,keeping close to the wall, and taking care to pass behind the jury whichsat on a bench of boards laid across two logs. He was now making his wayto the little platform of logs on which the judge was sitting. The judgesaw him coming and hastily shook his head, knowing from long experiencewhat he was coming for. But Father Orin only chuckled more merrily anddrew nearer. When he put out his hand the judge surrendered, knowing howuseless it would be to resist while a few Spanish dollars or even a fewbits of cut money were left in his wallet, or there was want in thewilderness which the priest's persistence could relieve. But his lefteyebrow went up very high in a very acute angle, as he leant far over toone side and ran his hand into the depths of his breeches pocket.
"There!" he said, handing over what he had. "I am glad I haven't got anymore. Hereafter, when I see you coming, I'm going to take to the woods.Much or little, you always get all there is," he said, ostentatiouslybuttoning the flap over his empty pocket. "Oh, by the way, Father,somebody wants you over yonder in that corner. Those men, standingthere, asked me just now if I knew where you were. They have got intosome sort of a snarl, and they want you to straighten it out."
"Very well, I will go and see," said the priest, simply, being used toall sorts of calls, temporal as well as spiritual.
The two men had already seen him, and were standing to receive him whenhe came up. One of them was a member of his own church and known to himas a man of large affairs. The other, a lawyer and a Protestant, he hada much slighter acquaintance with. It was the lawyer who spoke afterboth had greeted him warmly, as if they felt his appearance to be arelief.
"We have been hoping you might come. We are in trouble and think you arethe man to help us set matters right," said the lawyer.
"What is it?" laughed Father Orin. "I don't know anything about law."
The lawyer laughed too. "Well, you see, Father, it isn't law exactly.That is, not the kind of law that I know. That's just where you come in.It's this way. My client here has won a suit. He was bound to win it andI told him so before it came to trial. The law was clear enough. But yousee, Father, law isn't always justice. You can keep within the law anddo mighty mean things. And my client here doesn't want to do anythingthat isn't right. He, as you know, is a clean, straight man. He hasscruples about the rights that this decision gives him. It's a knottyquestion. The other man thinks that he is being cheated, and my clientisn't quite sure himself. I didn't know what to advise in such a case. Icould tell him what the law of the land and the court--of thiscourt--was, and I have told him. But I couldn't tell him anything aboutthe law of that other land or that Higher Court. I don't know any moreabout those than you know about my laws and my court. And so we havedecided to ask you, to leave the whole dispute to you, and the other manhas agreed to let you decide it. He is a Protestant, as I am, but thathas nothing to do with this business. We are all perfectly willing toleave it to you; we will all abide by your decision without anotherword."
Father Orin hesitated. "I don't know that I can see any more clearlythan the rest of you. Well, call the other man," he then said. "We cantry to find out what is right, anyway. We can't go far wrong if we doour best to treat the other man as we should like him to treat us. Comeover here where we will be more to ourselves, and fetch the other man."
The judge was too busy to notice the consultation, but after a while hesaw the four men leaving the court room together, with quiet, smilingfaces. They all stopped for a moment in the doorway to allow Father Orinto shake hands with Peter Cartwright. The young preacher had beendelayed on his way, and was just now entering the court-house. He didnot smile when the priest said something which made the others laugh.His square jaw was grimly set, and his fiery black eyes looked over theheads of the crowd at the tall figure of General Jackson which toweredabove every one else in the court room, with the exception of theattorney-general. These two great lawyers still stood absorbed inlow-toned conversation. But the young preacher had no eyes for JoeDaviess nor for any one except Andrew Jackson. As soon as he could freehis hand from Father Orin's clasp he entered the court room and wentstraight up to General Jackson and stood still in front of him, lookingat him. Both the gentlemen turned in surprise at the youngbackwoodsman's abrupt approach. Both were much older and taller than he,and very different altogether from this square-built, rough-manneredyouth. But they may have felt the power that was his as well as theirs,for neither gave a sign of the impatience that both were quick to feeland almost as quick to show. Peter Cartwright was gazing steadily upinto General Jackson's eagle eyes--which few could face, which turnedmany a stout heart from a firm purpose--without swerving for an instantfrom what he meant to do.
"'I wanted to shake the hand of a man like you.'"]
"This is General Jackson, I believe," he said.
Andrew Jackson bent his haughty head. His gaze was now enough to makethe bravest flinch. But the young preacher went on without the slightestflinching.
"I have been told, sir, that you wanted to see me. I am PeterCartwright. I understand that you intend to chastise me for what I saidat the camp-meeting. Well, here I am."
Andrew Jackson stared at him silently for a moment, as if he did not getthe drift of the words. And then he suddenly burst into a great roar.
"The man who told you that was an infernal fool! I did say that I wantedto see you--to meet you. But I said so because I desired the honor ofknowing you, sir. I wanted to shake the hand of a man like you. Will yougive it to me now, sir? I shall take it as an honor. I am proud to knowa man who is ready to do his duty in spite of anybody on God's earth--asa preacher should be. A minister of Jesus Christ should love everybody,and fear no mortal man. Give me your hand again, sir. By the eternal, ifI had a few officers like you, and a well-drilled army, I could take oldEngland!"
With the meeting of the two men's hands a shout rang out from the crowdnow pressing in at the door. Shout followed shout, till the outcrysounded far through the forest. It reached the ears of Philip Alston andWilliam Pressley, who were riding slowly toward the court-house. Theyspurred their horses forward, wondering what could be the cause of theunusual noise and excitement. When they had reached the court-house andlearned what the shouting meant, Philip Alston smiled in approval.
"Very fine, very patriotic," he said.
But his real attention was not for the crowd; he cared nothing for itscries. He was looking at Joe Daviess and Andrew Jackson, the two famousattorneys, who were again absorbed in grave, low-toned consultation.
"Do you happen to know, William, what these distinguished gentlemen arediscussing with such interest and gravity? It must be something ofimportance. But of course
you know, my dear boy. You needn't tell me ifit is any matter of state or any sort of a secret. I asked withoutthinking. Pardon me," said Philip Alston.
He spoke in a low tone of gentle indifference. There was nothing toindicate that he felt any special interest, but William Pressleyanswered the question at once, and without reserve. Nothing pleased thatyoung man more than a chance to display his own first knowledge ofpolitical affairs, either local, state, or national. A single word ofpolitics never failed to fire his ambition, to light that one spark inhis cold eyes. And Philip Alston knew how to strike the flint that litthis spark, as he knew how to do almost anything that he wished to do.So that William now told him what it was that these two powerfulguardians of the public peace and safety had met to discuss. He alsotold him everything that the judge had said of his own determination todo his utmost to aid Joe Daviess in carrying out the plans which were tobe laid that day. Philip Alston listened in silence, with his eyes onGeneral Jackson and Kentucky's attorney-general; looking first at theone and then at the other, admiring and appreciating both. He had asincere, although purely intellectual admiration for any real greatness.Thus gazing at the two men he saw how great was the responsibilityresting on them, and how ably and fearlessly they were meeting it. Herealized clearly that these two grave, honest, earnest, fearlessthinkers must find help for the whole country solely in the might oftheir own minds and in the strength of their own hands. He knew that noaid ever had been given, or ever would be given, by the government asnone could know better than themselves. All this and much more came toPhilip Alston, as he stood looking at Andrew Jackson and Joe Daviesswhile listening to William Pressley. Through his whole life this hadbeen his attitude. He had always looked one way and rowed another, likethe boatman in The Pilgrim's Progress.
"And doubtless you too are giving valuable assistance," he said, turninghis inscrutable gaze on William Pressley, and speaking in the tone ofdeference which often covered his contempt. "You will, however, be in aposition to make your services far more valuable and much more widelyrecognized, should the attorney-general resign. There can be no doubt ofyour succeeding him. No one else stands so close to the place. You shallhave it without fail if any influence can aid you. And then, when thingsare as we wish them to be in this vicinity, we will send you to Congressto look after our larger interests. But in order to do this, we mustboth keep a keen lookout beforehand--there must be no mistakes. It mightbe well for you to meet me to-morrow at Anvil Rock. I shall pass thereat twelve o'clock on my way to Duff's Fort. You can then tell me theplans which these able gentlemen are now making. You will learn themfrom your uncle. Take care to remember the smallest detail. Bear inmind, my dear boy, that you will soon have this whole responsibility onyour own shoulders. You are now in excellent training for it.Everything that passes between these brilliant lawyers must be ofpersonal value to you in the discharge of your future duties, and to me,also, in order that I may serve you."
William's chest swelled out with pride, and he held his head higher inconscious rectitude. He had not a doubt of his ability to fill theplace, nor thought of doubting that he was doing what was right and wisein being perfectly candid with Philip Alston. He thought it most likelythat he could secure the appointment without that gentleman's influence.He was quite sure that he would not require any one's assistance infilling it. Still, he was willing to pay all proper deference to an oldfriend, and to the foster-father of the girl who was to be his wife.These thoughts were an open book which Philip Alston read with anotherqueer smile, while thanking him for the promise to come to Anvil Rock.
"I will leave you now," Philip Alston said. "I have business to-day,also, at Duff's Fort. And you, left alone, will be free to join youruncle and the distinguished gentlemen who are working with him."
The two great lawyers had not seen Philip Alston up to the moment thathe turned to leave the court-house, when General Jackson's eagle eyefell upon him.
"Why, there's Philip Alston now!" he exclaimed in an undertone and witha frown. "The splendid audacity of the magnificent rascal! Think of hiscoming here--right under our noses--to-day, too, of all days! And heknows perfectly well that we know him to be the leader, the originator,the head and the brains of all this villany!"
"Yes. But how are we going to prove it?" asked the attorney-general."Believing a thing and proving it are two different things. If I couldonly once get my hand on a particle of evidence.--Do you suppose hecould have known what we were talking about?" with sudden uneasiness."He is intelligent enough to guess, without hearing a word. It isscarcely possible that Judge Knox could have been so thoughtless as tospeak of our plans to his nephew--that solemn, pompous young fool whowas with Alston. Surely, even Robert Knox couldn't have been soindiscreet in a matter of life and death, such as this!"
"Not when he was sober; and he hasn't been drinking to-day. As foryesterday--that is another matter," said General Jackson. "Robert Knoxalways means to do exactly what is right, but what a man means issometimes very different from what he does, especially when he doesn'tknow what he is doing."
Round Anvil Rock: A Romance Page 8
