Part 53 (1/2)

”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 wors.h.i.+p,” 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 wors.h.i.+p; 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 wors.h.i.+p; 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 wors.h.i.+p, 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 wors.h.i.+p, 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 wors.h.i.+p,” 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 wors.h.i.+p'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?”