Читать бесплатно онлайн книгу Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 20, September 4, 1858
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STEPHEN H. BRANCH’S
ALLIGATOR.
Volume I.—No. 20
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1858.
Price 2 Cents.
And they Stoned Stephen.
We are told by the Holy Scriptures that one of the Apostles, who, preaching integrity and truth to the Pharisees of old, offended those who belonged to the Tabernacle of libertines, was brought before the council, which, by arousing public sentiment in a seditious manner, caused Stephen to be stoned. And in our modern day they have likewise stoned Stephen by placing him, unaccustomed to toil, and guiltless of all crime, save the free exercise of opinion, to labor in a quarry along with felons, thieves, and other obnoxious convicts; and in this wise have our modern Pharisees stoned Stephen.
The Warden of the Penitentiary, suffering from din of public opinion, has seen proper to extenuate his conduct by stating that he was compelled, by rigidity of duty, thus to place Mr. Branch in a position of labor. Thus has he communicated his thoughts for publication to the editor of the Sunday Mercury, and when he uttered them he was well aware that they were a mere subterfuge to avoid personal indignity. And now we challenge the Warden to show one single word in his instructions rendering it compulsory upon him to employ any one soul in the quarrying of stone. On the contrary, his instructions particularly enjoin upon him the exercise of moderation and forbearance as a taskmaster, and most explicitly direct that no prisoner, incapable of physical labor, shall be employed at manual servitude. The law of the State, despite the tendencies of Mr. Fitch, recognizes every being, created in human form, to be possessed of a soul, as well as being of value to the commonwealth; for a man incarcerated in the penitentiary, is not devoid of civil life as is the case with a convict to the State prison, and wherefore then did he stone Stephen?
Mr. Fitch, the Warden, may remember that a woman, convicted of the most brutal of crimes, which the law unfortunately has left unvisited by proper punishment, that of the murder of the innocents, as yet unborn, was, during her residence at the Island, favored not only with the comforts, but the luxuries of an easy existence. And still they stoned Stephen.
The Warden, in addition to this instance of the famous Madame Restell, may remember that a French gentleman, convicted of a most gross and obscene libel upon the Rev. Mr. Verien, was not only suffered to remain in idleness, and without the prison clothes, but was absolutely lodged in the Warden’s house, remunerating him for his comfortable existence by instructing his daughters in a knowledge of the French tongue. And still they stoned Stephen!
The Warden may remember, moreover, that Mr. Judson, convicted of a misdemeanor in exciting the Astor Place riot, was allowed two days of weekly absence to attend the publication of a journal by him published—a fact notorious to every reader of Ned Buntline’s Own. And still they stoned Stephen!
We are sorry that the Warden so far committed himself as intentionally to persecute a harmless, unoffensive man, whose true crime is a steady adherence to truth. Allow us to assure him that while we admire his penitence for the moment, we cannot forgive the fact that he stoned Stephen!
Is the Atlantic Telegraph Actually Complete?
It is still doubted by many whether the Atlantic cable is actually laid and perfect, as is reported. There is, we believe, no actual proof of the fact, beyond that in the hands of those who have a pecuniary interest in its being completed. It is said that the Queen’s message and the President’s reply have been transmitted. Have they? Who knows?
Mr. Field has notified the public that the line will not be opened for its use in much less than a month—that he also has resigned the directorship. Has he sold his stock, and thus disqualified himself from holding office? And will most of the stock have changed hands within the month? And will something have happened to the cable in the meantime to render it useless? Will the directors prove the fact of the cable being securely laid and in working order, by transmitting a message and returning an answer, if it is but a single sentence? If they are able to transmit one word they can do this. It would certainly be too bad if it should prove to be a Kidd salvage affair. Then all the gas which has been evolved, and all the powder burnt in the extreme jollification, would be a total loss; together with part of the City Hall, and Justice into the bargain. We certainly would advise those who have been lately canonized to show these surmises to be false before their honors grow dim.
A Commotion in the Jarsies.
The Alligator, feeling himself some pumpkins, on Sunday last, ventured upon an excursion to the Jarsies, as much from a desire to have universal absolution by a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Quietus, as from a longing to fraternize with the gallant Zouave, so particularly enamored with the “blunt.” Basking in the smiles, literal and liquid, of the Hotel Napoleon, and, sunned by the presence of the fair hostess, the Alligator was enwrapt in a pleasant revery, much after the owl-like manner, in which the sedate and philosophical Peter Cooper presides over a reform convention. But his repose was broken by learning the astounding fact that the Jersies, and especially Hoboken, was in a state of political insurrection, and that for the moment the authority of James Buchanan, President of these United States, was despised, contemned and absolutely denounced,—and even one rebel, unconscious of the Alligator’s presence, absolutely expressed a fervent desire to punch that dignitary’s venerable head. It seems from all that we can glean, that the Executive of this Republic, feeling the salvation of the country to depend upon the electors of Hoboken and the parts circumjacent, directed the renomination of the representative in Congress, at present representing that district. This, it seems, was too much for Jersey patience, exhausted as it is from passive submission to the tyranny of Camden and Amboy; and, therefore, Hoboken has raised the standard of revolt in the person of a learned judge, who is to mount the stump to vindicate the honor of Jersey, and perhaps of its lightning. How the unterrified democracy will survive this disaffection, we are at a loss to imagine—for the loss of Hoboken, which familiarly styles itself our sister city, and a very infant of a sister at that, must be a bitter pill to an Administration in a tight place. One hope only is left. Cannot the President induce John McKeon to reduce the rebellious people to a perpetual slumber by one of his soporific orations; and even should this fail, perchance Mr. Justice Whitley might be induced to talk to them for half an hour. We are convinced that the people of Jersey would do anything rather than submit to this final calamity.
To Our Readers.
During the past few weeks, it has been currently reported in some quarters, that D. W. Jobson, Esq., is now conducting the Alligator.
That is not so. Mr. Jobson never had—has not now, and, for aught we know at present, never will have anything to do with the Alligator.
Answers to Correspondents.
“Van.”—Your communication will appear in our next issue, it being received too late to be of use for the moment.
THE ALLIGATOR.
New York, Saturday, September 4, 1858.
More Advice to Mr. Barnard.
When Mr. Recorder Barnard sat in Solomonic judgment on Stephen H. Branch, he evidently forgot for the moment the dignity of a judge, and assumed the questionable attributes of a politician. That Mr. Recorder Barnard is nominally a lawyer we will admit, for he comes under all provisions of the New Code, which creates lawyers with the celerity of machinery; but that he understands the law, we emphatically deny. Before Mr. Barnard mounted the Bench, was his name ever known to the community as a successful barrister? Was he ever intrusted with any important civil or criminal case? Did he ever make a speech the most common-place reporter thought worthy of being reproduced in type? Not one of those tests of popularity, which appertain to the career of the most common of attorneys, seem to apply to the case of our learned Recorder, upon whose brow honor and glory have stumbled as it were by accident.
Mr. Barnard, in sentencing Mr. Branch, evidently desired to impress the public mind with an idea of his individual authority; forgetting that he was armed with the sword of mercy, he wielded only that of justice, and with a vindictiveness, as reckless as it was violent, loaned himself to the wishes of partizan leaders, who daily stand in dread of exposure from an unbridled press. As vermin cannot dwell in certain atmospheres, these men stifle coming in contact with the air of a free press; and it is to them we owe the bitter persecution of free opinion, as is glowingly instanced in the judgment passed upon Branch. A self-same punishment would have been meted out to any offending editor, who may touch the dignity of the confederated band, who thus attempt to throttle speech, whose freedom should be indigenous to the soil.
How long has Mr. Barnard learned that a convicted editor is a mere felon? That he should be maltreated, disgraced, and placed even below the level of thieves and malefactors? The case of Mr. Branch is probably the first on record, wherein a man condemned for libel was compelled to submit to prison discipline, intended only for a minor class of felons. But as this case has occurred, it has afforded to our people a fair opportunity of judging upon the irresponsibility, we will not say imbecility, of an elective judiciary. Catch the most insignificant errand-boy in the nearest lawyer’s den, and he will give you a better legal, if not more humane, exposition of the true genius of the laws than was publicly enunciated by Mr. Recorder Barnard, who indirectly repudiated pure maxims of jurisprudence, and substituted vagaries of vengeance. Let us, therefore, profit by this casual display of sentiment; for say we to all quarters of the city, with a voice as of that of a watchman in the hour of alarm, that none, not even the pure and guileless, are safe while fantasies such as these are suffered to be fulminated from a criminal bench. And likewise mind, we draw a grave distinction between our civil and criminal judiciary. Unfortunately, the highest and most respected of our judges are occupied solely with the rights of property, and we have committed the rights of the person to the most obscure of obscure attorneys, accidentally thrust from pure partizan influence upon the Bench. While the truly learned Justice Clerke, a lawyer such as the way of Christian life would make him, is simply occupied in matters of dollars and cents, our lives, our persons, our future, immaculate, are intrusted to the supervision of such learned pundits as Mr. Recorder Barnard and City Judge Russell.
Liberty of speech is a right, paramount to that of every other consideration; it has been treasured as the key-stone to the great, unwritten Constitution of Britain and of our own land; it is the vital essence of our political existence, and its abuse has been judicially tolerated that the spirit shall be perpetuated. But as Mr. Recorder Barnard has not probably indulged in the intellectual luxury of perusing Hallam’s Constitutional History—such a work being unknown to the New Code—we will excuse him from any implied admiration of that respect, yea, adoration, for personal rights, which animated the manly soul of Algernon Sidney and fired the patriotism of John Hampden.
We simply wish to inform Mr. Recorder Barnard that he labors under a delusion when he presumes libel to be a misdemeanor in the literal sense of the word, and although the law may be virtually misconstrued in such a wise as to authorize interpretation that it may verge upon misdemeanor, still the practice of Courts, presided over by Kent, by Eldon, and by Camden, has essentially abrogated any such pretence in fact. In meeting out to Mr. Branch the doom of a common thief, in disgracing and degrading him before the eyes of a community, he attempted in a feeble way, it may be observed, to instruct and enlighten. Mr. Barnard and his satellites not only erred in tempor, but in absolute legality. They have reaped a harvest of glory in the unmurmured cases of a sympathetic public who will profit by the lesson we have received, and hence forward seek not such servants as these.
The Law’s Delay.
It was confidently expected that a revision of the judgment upon Mr. Branch would have been had in the early part of this week. We, however, learn from Mr. Ashmead, that the Court being pre-occupied by civil business, have postponed consideration of his motion until the month of September, when the learned counsellor feels assured that the relief he prays for will be granted, and a new trial be had.
In this sacrifice of personal rights to the emolument of that of property, we notice the inconsistency of the law which thus creates an invidious distinction between things animate and inanimate. Here, then, we have a person kept in jail, in a state of vexatious misery, while the Court is occupied by the consideration of some quarrel of Smith and Jones over a bale of cotton, or some other triviality in a commercial point of view. Now, the most valuable of all rights is that of locomotion, and the dearest of all writs is that of habeas corpus, instituted expressly for the relief of the individual from unjust detention. And still all the provisions of this famous act are neutralized the instant the prisoner gets into the clutches of the judiciary, whose slow motions are too often a cause of unintentional wrong-doing.
In the case of the People vs. Haines, the prisoner served his time out in the State Prison, and was afterward granted a new trial and found not guilty. Ashley, tried for forgery, served eighteen months, when upon a new trial he was found guiltless of the crime charged upon him. Much as we talk about the freedom of our institutions, the rights of prisoners are too little respected by the tardy process of legal procedure. We trust that when the new constitution be framed that preference will be given to all cases involving personal liberty.
The First of September—let us remember.
It was observed by an English writer the heart of an alderman lays in his belly. It may be true of an English alderman, but with ours the centre of all affections rests in the pocket—touch him there, and you draw his life’s blood. Dining is the mere relaxation with our aldermanic council, by which they occasionally while away the fatigues of mathematical calculations on the gross profits of contracts. They eat not as a matter of duty, but from absolute necessity. We are to have a municipal banquet on the first of September, to testify our joy at the successful laying of the Atlantic Cable; and the same gentlemen, who did the mourning over James Munroe, have kindly condescended to do our merriment over the cable. Our Aldermen have acute sensations; at one moment they are plunged in the depths of woe, at another they are frantic with delight. In a word, they do everything, even praise God, not in church, but at the Crystal Palace.
We being of the poorer class feeders on pork and beans, are not expected to have stomachs, capable of being with fat capon lined, so we, tax payers will have to imagine the splendor of the scene, seen through the gloomy columns of a morning newspaper. And therefore let us riot in imagination and taste the pleasures of the honor in anticipation.
We see before us, seated in his chair of state, the great Puttyman, and we worship his Worship like unto the mighty Bendimeer, for him to speak, for us to hear. And as the words of humid eloquence are distilled from his lips, we will wonder how we could unfold so sound, unvarnished a tale, and admit that painting spoils the lily and the rose, until weighed down by the profundity of magisterial love, we unconsciously droop to balmy slumber. And then we shall have Alderman Clancy, whose soft persuasive tones shall wake thunders of applause, as he extols the fighting glories of the Sixth, and promises that if the cable has necessity of gallant defenders, he knows a band ready to fight for it.
And then there will be the grave and illustrious Peter, who will act the part of the skeleton at the Egyptian feast, with an occasional smile as a token of our approaching smile. He will make but few remarks; the most telling of which will be a short sentence, offering the use of the basement cellar of the Institute wherein to coil away the tail end of the cable.
And then we will have Simeon Draper, the facetious prince of diners-out, whose portly presence was never known to fail a municipal feast. He will illuminate us with jokes, such as were wont to enliven the monotony of an Alms House board. And then we will mourn to think that some day must come when the Corporation Yorick will be no more.
It will be a great feast!—a revelry of wit, humor, and sentiment; a gathering together of all imaginable elements of greatness, from every quarter of the city, and it is only to be regretted that the Lord Mayor of London and him of Dublin cannot be sent, per the cable, to participate in the scene of self-glorification, it would afford them such an instructive lesson in the principles of municipal democracy. But as they are requested to dine simultaneously with our body corporate, so shall the Alligator, in an humble manner, it must be conceded, for we dine at our own expense—a consideration not entering into the heads of our authorities. At the exact moment when Simeon Draper cracks his sixth joke, the Alligator will honor Waterman with a command for “ein lager!”
