Tiberius Smith/Chapter 9
IX
A CORNER IN JURISDICTION
"AFTER carefully examining every hem-stitched vista, I come to the conclusion that the following is one of the most pleasing in the whole catalogue. Just as we were leaving Beanville we got a wire saying the circus boss was weary of waiting for us to arrive and had skipped away to Europe for a few days. However, he left a handsome check behind for our approval, and in the interim of waiting for him to return Tib decided we should pay another visit to old Vermont. To my best knowledge it was his second trip there since his infancy. If he could be here to-day I believe he would refuse to make a third. For on this last occasion he played the part of a sixty-horse-power auto in the midst of his homeland, and I reckon he would feel a bit skittish about appearing in the guise of a twenty-eight-dollar bicycle. Again, there is the sheriff to consider. But above all sordid deterrents he climbed high on the pedestal on this sojourn, and for a brief period wore the ermine. Yes, sir, he was a Solomon until they turned in an alarm.
"Somehow, I like best to think of the old chap in that stage-setting. It was the one short lull in our many ventures, and I love to hark back and meet those particular ghosts at Philippi, and once more dwell upon the time when for three hours he toyed with the scales of justice, and within that small circumference managed to establish certain legal propositions so astounding as to equip the higher courts with severe headaches for many years to come.
"Now don't run away with the idea that Tib drew only about six inches of water when it came to sailing the legal seas; for he was so good he could pick the Futurity winner in 1911. Why, in one abbreviated afternoon he firmly started the celebrated Higbutton will case on its spiral way, and only escaped a grand-jury acquaintance by thoughtfully nabbing a south-bound train in the evening. Probably to this day the principals in that litigation are anxiously watching for his return. Dull hinds, dream on! Would that you could behold him again!
"You see, sir, Tiberius was the greatest legal teaser that ever raised blisters on the judicial brow, although he had no idea of measuring out legal lore when we darted into placid Spluckersville. I'll admit he was not a lawyer in the technical sense of the word, but when it came to doing the Daniel-arrived-at-judgment act, he had Blackstone and all the other calf-bound antiques begging for mercy. And despite we were there on a mere vacation, and although he was forced into the office, and while his first and last case was a stinger—a quadrupedal one—he didn't go to work and slur it over and pass it on to the higher courts. No, sirree! Perhaps that's where he slipped up; for although I was betting five to nothing on him, I can see now he tickled the key-stone of the commonwealth out of plumb by trying to get a corner on jurisdiction. To be rigidly exact, I believe there were enough questions of law tangled up in that one case to last the appellate tribunals until frozen apples are retailed in the warmer regions. Yet Tiberius discarded his coat, and with his usual broad charity hogged the whole bunch.
"But to romp back and catch the flag. With the fat check we were well-ladened with pin-money, and when we arrived at Spluckersville, Tib swore it reminded him of his birthplace, and his twinkling brown eyes would gather pearls as he found the old swimming-hole he would have laved in had he been allowed to have been born and grow up in that drowsy environment. Then came a few stanzas about his lost youth, and 'Oft in the Stilly Night,' an dother Fourth-Reader stunts. Well, probably the town never before or since possessed a citizen so deeply appreciative of its charms. First, he gave the Methodist church a new bell—and, Lord knows, our charity should have commenced at home and have been thoroughly domesticated—and then he hung up a prize in the school for the best essay on home. Only, he insisted the compositions should be framed up like circus posters and be largely ejaculatory. To add up the talk, as we both were paying our board, that wart of a town ultimately fell on our necks and pronounced us blessed, and studied to keep us with them for all time. Then, at the conclusion of much liberality on our part, fully realizing Tib's intense loyalty to the coop, the town fathers gravely convened and decided we had gained a legal residence, and appointed the dear old chap as a justice of the peace!
"That was how it all started. Tib knew all about circuses and stock companies, but his legal lore, like Joe Smith's Bible, was largely a matter of inspiration. Yet he bowed to the public will and slipped on the yoke. Really, he felt more happy and chesty over that miserly, little, scantily paid office than if he had captured a whole bevy of grand llamas for a side-show attraction. Of course, he swore me in as clerk, explaining I was the only man on earth who could read his writing. And, this done, he began to yearn and hanker for a litigation. He had an idea that the hitherto accepted theory of jurisprudence was crude and noisy, and should be fitted out with ball-bearing sockets and a chronometer movement. He simply pined away the first hour of his incumbency for the want of a test case.
"He had just dusted off two volumes of statutes and was hefting five pounds of Somebody on Mortgages, and had expressed a hope we would have a busy summer, when Hiram Duzer, farm-hand, rushed into the office and begged for several quarts of undiluted justice.
"‘What kind do you want?' asked Tib, nervously, opening the statutes with rather a timid hand.
"‘A warrant fer th' arrest of John Peasly an' Jasper Turner, store-keepers, fer makin' off with valuable papers,' cried Hiram.
"‘Papers consisting of what?' I prompted, to give Tib his cue.
"‘Silas Higbutton's las' will an' testament,' explained Duzer, solemnly.
"‘Felony!' cried Tib, eying some tax receipts wisely. 'Hand me a blank warrant, Billy.'
"And after I'd found a chromo that looked like a board-of-health danger-signal, he gracefully scratched it with his pen and called in a lame constable and told him to do his duty.
"‘Hate like sin ter do it,' demurred the officer, limping to the door. 'They'll come, all right, but they'll be so mad they may lick ye. They never stole nothin'.'
"I whispered to Tib to put on the brakes and coast a bit, even if he couldn't back-pedal. I reminded him Hiram was a care-free wag who always decorated the town-hall for the Knights of Pythias ball and played in the band, and largely attended to somebody else's business except his own. I wished Hi to give a bond, but Tib insisted a hired man could quaff as deeply and freely at the spring of justice as any village store-keepers, and in about thirty minutes Peasly and Turner drifted in, escorted by a large rural chorus and the only two legal lanterns in town.
"Lawyer Remmy, a tall, thin, sad-faced man, folded his arms, and sinking his head on his chest, much like the Little Corsican, eyed the court sternly and demanded why his two clients had been arrested.
"Tib cheerfully informed him, and gently asked the hired man if he were appearing by counsel. Then Lawyer Bilger, another thin one, took the first position in repulsing a bayonet charge and said he owned Hi.
"‘Very well,' said Tib, shuffling the leaves of Webster's Unabridged to find the Latin quotations. 'Let the prisoners plead.'
"At this Brother Remmy broke loose, and beginning with Mount Sinai flapped every legal precept that ever emerged from a bench in the court's face, and begged to inform the court, sir, that when Ethan Allen indulged in a little joke on Fort Ticonderoga the Remmy forebears were not lurking in the background. With this personal prelude he wound up with mention of the Green Mountain Boys, then quoted a section from Tom Paine's Age of Reason, and finally declared Hiram was a scalawag and a blood relation to Ananias.
"‘My clients,' he added, in a soft, hushed voice, 'are only guilty of regaining their own. For years back they trusted, to use our homely village phrase, Silas Higbutton with certain edibles and groceries and divers staples of life. As said Silas showed no inclination to liquidate his indebtedness, they levied, if it please the court, upon his live-stock just a few days before he passed on to the Final Arraignment. But justly did my clients seize upon his stock and mingle them with their own kine. Needless to say, no will or any paper has been taken, and we demand the warrant be dismissed.'
"Then Mr. Bilger thrust one hand in the bosom of his coat, and turning his watery eyes on Tib, laughed hoarsely at his fellow's audacity. 'Who spoke of papers?' he asked, shrilly, dusting his breast with his free hand. 'Who spoke of papers in the sense of papyrus or parchment? We spoke of documents. Now let the constable go and drive the live-stock here, and we will make good our charges and get at the res gestæ.'
"Tib bounced sharply from his chair at the last shot, and eyed the dictionary wistfully. But, as there was only one thing to do, he ordered the lame man hence, and in about ten minutes the mooing of cattle called us all to the door.
"‘While we are entitled to a subpœna duces tecum,declared Mr. Remmy, airily, 'we have waived that right, and now that the live-stock is here let my learned friend make good his vaunted boast and point out Silas Higbutton's last will.'
"Mr. Bilger and Hiram merely grinned. They yanked a fettlesome cow up to the door and then asked the court to drag his honest orbs over her right flank. And hang me, sir, if there wasn't branded the words, 'I give, devise, and bequeath to—' and no more!
"Tib mopped his brow, stared intently at the beast for a minute, and then gasped, in a trembly voice, 'Bequeathed to whom?'
"‘Jest wait a second, y' honor,' cried Hiram, stalking proudly back and netting a steer, whose flank bore the next instalment, to wit, 'Hiram Duzer all—' and that was all.
"Well, sir, the discovery of these sections of the will simply swept the defendants and their attorney off their feet, and Tib could only sit on the door-step and weakly ask, 'Is there any more?'
"‘The will is complete,' assured Mr. Bilger, gravely. 'I dictated it.'
"And two more cows showed the words, 'My property wherever situate,' and 'Signed, Silas Higbutton.'
"‘It's worthless!' cried Mr. Remmy, joyfully. 'It must have three witnesses.'
"Hiram fractured his face with another smile, and I instinctively knew he had big casino. For he turned the critter about, and there on the other flank was his name as well as two others.
"‘It seems regular,' gasped Tib. 'I suppose a will should be witnessed on the side where the testator signs, and yet if the hide were removed all four signatures would be on the same side. What have you to say, Mr. Remmy?'
"Brother R. simply growled in his anger, but at last declared that at least there could be no question as to his clients' right to the two mediæval-looking horses. But Hiram and his lawyer, you know, had all the laurels tucked in their belts when it came to being old cuties, and with a deprecatory wave of the hand Bilger shyly called attention to the fact that each horse was a codicil.
"‘What's th' jedge goin' ter do?' whispered one of the amazed fringe of spectators.
"Tib caught it, and turned quickly, saying, 'The court will now convene within. Leave the exhibits where they are.'
"‘Don't monkey with this game,' I begged of the old chap; but he looked at me sorrowfully, and whispered:
"‘Billy, this little legal nut has got to be cracked by some one, and if it wanders into the higher courts it won't be because I'm not the child to settle it. Besides, there's a nice point of law involved, just what I've been aching to get at all my life.'
"I groaned and conceded he could hang his hat on a dozen such points, but without profit, and so, following him, I called court to order. Then up jumped Hiram's tall, thin angel, and, with a sophomoric, Italy-beyond-the-Alps delivery, he explained how Silas Higbutton had died without kin and had willed his little all to his trusty hired man.
"‘Ye can't probate a will in this demed, one-hoss court,' snarled old Peasly, his white whiskers bristling in anger. 'He's got ter take it ter a court of probate.'
"‘This court must pass upon the validity of the will before deciding whether you are guilty as charged,' said Tib, stoutly. 'And as for the physical aspect of the court, your outre metaphor will cost you five dollars. Brother Remmy, what have you to say?'
"‘I say this is no will,' cried Mr. Remmy, trying to throttle his clients into silence. 'The statutes say a will must be in writing—'
"‘If done on a typewriter it's binding,' jeered Mr. Bilger.
"‘Printed characters are certainly within the statutes,' decided Tib.
"‘But not on cows!' gasped Mr. Remmy, pressing his tremulous hands to his fevered brow.
"‘The testator certainly had a right to execute his will on one cow,' howled Mr. Bilger, snapping his fingers under his opponent's nose. 'And where does the law draw the line and invade man's sovereign prerogative and declare, di cluckum nozzum, that he shall be relegated to one cow? What if he owns two small cows and must use them instead of one large cow? Is he a freeman or a slave? Must he swap the two critters for one? In the words of Justinian: In hoc signo vinces!'
"‘Trying to stun me with their boarding-house French,' muttered Tib, in my dazed ear. Then sternly, to Mr. Bilger: 'Honi soit qui mal y pense. Sit down, sir.' And poor Bilger wilted, while Mr. Remmy, who had butted into other courts, spun on his heel and dizzily staggered against the wall.
"‘I am of the opinion,' continued Tib, gravely, tapping the Unabridged impressively, 'that a man has a right—a legal right—to execute a binding will on the side of his house, on a fence, or to spell it in colored pebbles on his lawn. But if a man utilizes the method in controversy it would seem he were guilty of contributory negligence—'
"‘That's right, jedge,' cheered Mr. Turner, enthusiastically.
"‘Silence in the court. Oyez, oyez, and oyez!' I warned, beginning to feel saucy from my semi-official position.
"‘But his negligence does not necessarily invalidate his will,' concluded Tib, heavily. 'He is merely taking a chance.'
"‘Hooray!' cheered Hiram.
"‘Charge up five dollars against that person if he becomes ebullient again, Billy,' directed the court.
"‘If the court please,' soared Mr. Remmy, after whispering in his clients' ears, 'we contest the will on the ground the signature is forged. We have samples of the alleged testator's handwriting here and would offer them in evidence.'
"Tib looked puzzled for a moment, and finally conceded that the contestants were entitled to dispute and disprove the signature by offering genuine specimens of the decedent's chirography in evidence, and the defendants patted each other on the back in glee. 'But,' added my Daniel, 'the contradictory evidence'—and here the pages of Noah's big book buzzed busily as Tib raced through the ponderous volume to the list of quotations from foreign languages—'must be similia similibus curantur, or of a like nature, or in the nature of a signature on a cow. Of course, a man would sign his name differently when writing on a cow than he would in using a fountain-pen on super-linen bond. Ahem!'
"And as a husky wight beat a cripple across the road to the tavern, where, from my elevated position, I could see they were drinking nervously from a bottle, Mr. Bilger arose and joyously proclaimed: 'The only thing for them to do is to swear in an expert on cow-writing.'
"'An' on hosses, too,' supplemented the hired man.
"I could now see Tib was in pretty deep water, and that the responsibility was wearing on him, and while motioning me to look up some more phrases to have on friendly tap he tried to shift the line of thought by ruling that in the future the impatient and initialled beasts should be referred to as such and such a clause in the will, or as a codicil.
"By this time, sir, we had the weather-beaten, bewhiskered audience in a sickly trance, and old Deacon Mumby limped out to gather new wisdom across the road. And as he blindly paused and attempted to foregather the age of Codicil Number One by looking at his teeth, he received a severe kick which led him to belabor the poor brute with his cane. It required all of Tib's official zeal to cause him to hesitate.
"‘Dod rot him! He kicked me!' complained the deacon. 'I'll sue Hi Duzer if this turns out ter be his will.'
"After the old man had been told a few wholesome truths about the sacred nature of last wills and testaments and warned not to meddle with the public archives again, Tib did a little scout-work through the statutes and at last announced that the will must be filed with the court.
"And this, sir, was a neat stroke. Of course, Mr. Remmy began to argue that Tib was not a court of probate and hence had no jurisdiction. But he caught himself in time and swallowed his voice, for he couldn't dope out how Hiram was to file his instrument—ergo, the defendants would win.
"Then up jumped Mr. Bilger, realizing all was almost lost, and began to make the same point, but he remembered in time that it was all off for his client if he doubted my patron's jurisdiction, so he strangled a sob and began to bluff. He said the clauses and codicils would certainly be stabled in the office, providing the beneficiary was allowed to feed 'em. Hi broke in and wanted it stipulated that he should also milk the clauses and borrow the codicils occasionally to do a little cultivating with.
"‘Or could we file a copy of the will?' asked Mr. Bilger, fearing Tib's puckered brow.
"‘Can't copy a cow—I mean those clauses—very well,' sneered Mr. Remmy, light-hearted with delight at having the burden shifted to Tib's shoulders.
"‘You could with a camera,' reminded Tib.
"‘But the law requires the original should be filed,' insisted Mr. Remmy.
"‘I'll designate the adjoining paddock as the court,' declared Tib, gleefully. 'Put the will in there.'
"Hiram and his attorney shook hands in radiant spirits, and then the latter turned to the court and with a playful air observed: "I don't suppose there is any objection to the calf staying with its mother, Clause Four, eh?'
"Tib, who was busy packing up his law tomes, wheeled quickly, and demanded: 'Calf? Explain.'
'"If your Honor please. Clause Four is accompanied by a calf, recently born,' said Mr. Bilger, with a strained, nervous smile.
"Born since the will was executed?' asked Tib, carelessly.
"Mr. Bilger replied easily in the affirmative and beamed brightly again as my chief seemed about to dismiss the matter. But all pleasant vistas were sadly agitated when Tib sternly inquired: 'Why wasn't I told this before?'
"Poor Bilger failed to appreciate how the little, wobbly one's presence in the paddock could make any difference and tried to say so, but Tib cut him short. 'While I would be the last man in Vermont to separate parent from child,' he declared, 'yet the child in this case cannot presume upon its mother's legal status to claim a day in court. The child is an orphan. Legally its mother is dead, or rather, has, by those subtle evolutions in law, been transformed into a will. She cannot even claim to be in loco parentis. She is no longer a cow; she is a document. She can have no offspring.^
"‘Then at least the calf belongs to the creditors,' cried Mr. Remmy, quickly. 'For having no parent, no owner, it is a stray, the property of the first to claim it.'
"‘Not by a blamed sight—' began Hiram.
"‘Hesitate a moment,' commanded Tib. 'While, an orphan, yet its coming into the world affects the validity of the will. The will, as originally drawn, consisted of three cows, a steer, and two horses. An erasure in that instrument, say the death of any clause, would render the instrument null and void. Any tampering with a will after the testator's signature has been affixed, or after his death, such as writing in another clause, would invalidate it. The calf is an interpolation. While a codicil can be set aside without rendering inoperative the body of the instrument, the attesting clause cannot be disturbed. In this case the very signatures of the witnesses are eliminated.'
"Well, sir, you'll admit that was a mighty fine point, and you'll not be surprised when I add that the audience as well as the litigants were clinging to their ear-locks and staring at the court with lacklustre eyes. It was clear beyond them, and you could have brushed them from the room with a feather.
"‘Then,' cried Mr. Remmy, triumphantly, 'as the will was destroyed, my clients are not guilty as charged, and can go in peace.'
That's so,' admitted Tib. 'I so charge.'
"‘That settles it, and I wish to thank this court for its superhuman intellect in elucidating one of the most—er—entangled, bovine questions of law I ever encountered in a court of justice,' spieled Mr. Remmy. 'Come on, boys, we'll drive those critters home.'
"‘Wait a moment,' commanded Tib, leaning his alabaster brow on the edge of Somebody on Mortgages. 'I hardly think you can take the cattle.'
"‘That calf is merely a blank-line in the will,' expostulated Mr. Bilger, at last coming to. 'Every will has blank-lines.'
"‘But they always exist before the will is made,' soothed Tib. 'No; the continuity of the will has been altered since its execution and so the instrument is invalid. And yet the contestants are not entitled to it, or we may now say, to the live-stock.'
"‘Hooray!' shouted Hiram.
"‘The worst is yet to come,' warned Tib. 'The court has ruled the will is invalid, pro bono publico; hence Mr. Higbutton died intestate. Then we find he left no next of kin. To whom, under these circumstances, does the property go?'
"‘To his creditors,' bawled Mr. Remmy, not doing the table any particular good with his fist. 'To his creditors!'
"‘Whose claims have not been established,' declared the old chap, throwing up his head. 'No; I find it that the statutes have it that under like conditions the estate would escheat to the State of Vermont, and I so rule.'
"‘Well, sir, you could have brushed that crowd away with a yard of baby-ribbon! They never saw real, old-fashioned, simon-pure justice before in such large lumps.
"‘Ye mean I don't git 'em?' moaned Hiram.
"‘We can't take 'em?' gasped Mr. Remmy.
"‘They belong to the State of Vermont,' repeated Tib, firmly. 'Court's adjourned.'
"‘I'll mandamus this court!' cried Mr. Remmy, with his fist aloft, quite like Ajax defying the lightning.
'"My man,' warned Tib, in his low, dangerous voice, 'if you applied that term to me in private life I should forget my dignity long enough to go to the mat with you. But, being the court, I can only frown and impose a fine of ten dollars for contempt of court.'
"‘But court had adjourned,' gasped poor Remmy, counting the buttons on his coat to see if he were sane and awake.
"‘This court never adjourns when it comes to contempt,' explained Tib.
"As the thoroughly bewildered crowd wandered out into the open, Tib proudly observed to me: 'There may be legal stars of a greater brilliancy than I, my child, but I guess none of 'em ever wrestled with a more complicated crystal maze than that. Nunc pro tunc.'
"But that night we were tipped off by the prosecuting officer of the county that the matter had been rushed before the grand jury then in session, it being charged that Tib and I had conspired to drive the judiciary out of business, and the night train consequently found us companions on its southern jaunt. But many times since I have noted with much pride in the public press that the celebrated Higbutton will case is still trifling with the poise and peace of mind of the various courts in Vermont; and regardless of how they may befuddle it, or solve it, I shall always believe that my old patron's diagnosis was the correct one.