Stringtown on the Pike

A Novel by John Uri Lloyd

Chapter Nineteen

THE RIGHT OF CLERGY

Never did the court of Stringtown County convene with spectators more intensely interested and more prompt in assembling. When the clerk made the opening cry every place was filled, and even the two side aisles were partly occupied by chairs brought from the bar-room of the nearest tavern. The universal opinion was that the jury must find Cupe guilty; and the only question which perplexed the village was regarding the penalty likely to be inflicted. The charge of the judge was soon delivered; it was short, and so clearly drawn as to leave the jury no alternative but to bring in a verdict against the defendant. As the twelve men filed slowly from the room it required but little of the spirit of prophecy to foresee that they would soon return. After a brief consultation the jury came back to the box, and the announcement was made by the court officer that they were ready to return their verdict.

"Gentlemen of the jury, are you agreed?" asked the judge.

"We are," said the foreman, and handed the Court a paper, from which his Honour read aloud:

"We do unanimously agree that in willfully secreting a large sum of money which had been entrusted to his care Cupid Hardman is guilty of high crime against the commonwealth of Kentucky."

"Stand up, prisoner," said the judge," while the sentence of the law is pronounced."

Cupid arose and looked the judge in the face. Then occurred a strange thing, for a cry from one in the aisle, who was standing upright at the back of the room, broke the stillness.

"I ask for justice!"

Audacious interruption this, in a Kentucky court.

The judge looked steadily at the intruder; every face was turned in the direction whence the startling cry had come; every face, I may say, but one. Cupe neither moved nor changed expression.

In the rear of the centre aisle, with a leather-bound book held high in his hand, Mr. Wagner, the Stringtown clerk, stood expectant, and as the eyes of the assembly turned upon him he repeated:

"Justice! justice! I ask for justice" justice at the hands of the Court, your Honour!"

"Justice is the right of him who appeals to a court of justice," answered the judge. "For whom do you ask justice?"

"For the prisoner before you, for the slave, Cupid Hardman."

"Justice he shall have in accordance with the testimony. Listen to the charge."

"Hold your word, your Honour. I ask for justice in the name of equity, not according to the testimony. Listen, your Honour, listen until you hear the statutory claim of him who demands the right."

Bearing aloft the book, the uncouth man advanced slowly down the aisle until he stood before the bench. Then, thrusting the volume into the hand of the slave, he spoke in a deliberate, slow tone, looking straight into the face of the judge. "I claim for this slave, Cupid Hardman, the Right of Clergy, and this demand I make in the name of the law of this great commonwealth of Kentucky and on behalf of justice, for I believe him to have done no crime."

The judge folded his arms on his chest and not less deliberately replied:

"The claim is a legal one and accords with the statutes of the commonwealth. Open the book, Cupid Hardman, and if you can read aloud the Constitution of the United States, the brand may be applied to your hand and you may go forth freed from the charge pending against you."

The aged negro opened the book and read (or repeated) word for word the entire Constitution of the United States, and, having handed the book back to his champion, stood awaiting the next motion of the Court.

"The brand! the brand of fire! bring in the brand!" ordered the judge in a faltering, low tone.

Turning toward the aisle, the lank clerk again held up his hand, which, high above the heads of the people, could be plainly seen from the corridor without. In answer to that signal, following the footsteps of the Stringtown clerk, advanced a figure familiar to nearly all who were present…#034;the figure of the old Jew, Mose.

The habitual, emotionless smile wreathed his glossy face, a smile that contrasted strangely with the solemnity of the occasion, a smile unquestionably out of place in the present assembly. He carried a tinner's charcoal furnace fired to redness, into the living coals of which was thrust a searing iron such as is used to-day for branding beasts. Placing the heated furnace on the floor before the negro, the Jew drew the brand from the glowing brazier and stood awaiting the next order of the judge.

"Sheriff, proceed with you duty! Cupid, hold out your hand!" ordered the judge.

The sheriff grasped the hot iron, Cupe extended his bare palm, the heated metal came in contact with the living tissue, a puff of blue vapour shot from the contact surfaces, a sizzling sound followed, and a shudder swept over the spectators, many of whom covered their faces. A quick cry, loud and shrill, pierced the air when that vapour curled upward, and with a bound the little girl leaping from the arms of Dinah, sprang between the executioner and the victim. Striking up the hand which held the hot iron, she threw an arm around the waist of Cupe and stood defiantly beside him, shaking her tiny fist at the sheriff of Stringtown County.

But, Cupe, with extended arm still held before the sheriff, made no attempt to avoid the ordeal. He had not flinched, no cry of pain broke from his lips, no struggle to escape the brand of fire.

" 'Scuse de chile, Mr. Sheriff," he said gently, as with his left hand he tenderly stroked her hair. "She am but a leetle gearl an' lub de ole nigger. Go on wid de act! "

"Enough! enough!" ordered the judge; "you are free to go home, Cupid; you are freed from the sentence of the Court, by the Right of Clergy."1

Many of the audience came to the bondman's side when court adjourned and shook the uninjured hand. Men praised the negro's fortitude, for Kentuckians love a brave man, be he black or white; and old Dinah, mumbling to herself, bound the heroic man's hand in a red bandanna handkerchief. At last the room was vacated of all but the court officers, the friends of Cupe and the late prisoner.

"You are free to go home," repeated the judge.

"Yo' hab de t'anks ob an ole, ign'rant nigger, Ma'se Jedge, fo' yoah many kindnesses, but Cupe 'ud like t' ax a question."

"Certainly."

"Kin de chist go home wid de nigger?"

"Yes."

Cupe made a low courtesy, stooped over, and with his uninjured arm attempted to throw the heavy box upon his shoulder. The sheriff came to his assistance, and the their combined efforts the burden was lifted to its brawny resting place. As Cupid left the court room the sheriff remarked: "Devilish heavy for an empty box."

The judge made no reply.

And so the gold I had been promised and on which I had built great air castles was lost to me forever. With dragging feet I moved from the door of the courthouse to the wagon of Mose, the huckster, and there, with arms clasped over my head, with face hidden from the light, leaning against the hind wheel of that dilapidated vehicle, I sobbed gently and nervously kicked the sod on which my tears were falling. The horse of the Hebrew, untied at the rear of the wagon, stood munching the remnant of a dinner from the worn trough which hung on the back part of the wagon bed; but I gave no heed to the beast, even when its hairy lips were flipped carelessly against my cheek. A flock of barn pigeons whistled about my head and alighted near my feet, picking up the scattered grains of corn that had dropped upon the ground from the mouth of the horse, but for once my hand forgot its cunning and not stone was raised. Aunt Dinah, leading the little girl, passed me and climbed into the wagon. Mose placed the brazier in the wagon, having previously emptied the fiery contents on the roadside, then harnessed his horse and proceeded to hitch the faithful beast in the shafts. I heard next the footsteps of old Cupe approaching, the iron chest upon his shoulder. The chest was deposited on the ground near me, and as the negro straightened up, the 'bus to Stringtown, filled to its utmost capacity, rolled by. A cheer went up in honour of Cupe, who waved his bandaged hand in return. As the omnibus rattled along I raised my eyes, and beheld near me in the tail of the covered wagon a round, red face, surmounted by a mop of bright red hair: it was the face of a boy about my own age. A derisive smile spread over the florid countenance, a mouth was "made," into which more sarcasm and irony were thrown than can be put into any other countenance on earth than that of a malignant boy, and a hand, red as a duck's foot, placed its thumb on the red nose and twisted its fingers. It was hatred at first sight. I, who stood by the wagon wheel, forgot my own troubles, straightened up and shook my fist defiantly back at the boy in the tail of the 'bus, and, grasping a clod (no stone was near), hurled it at the retreating form. As the vehicle vanished in a cloud of dust Cupe placed his hand on my head and muttered:

"De signs am fulfullin' monstrous fas' an' de meanin' ob de sign t' yo' am…#034;look out fo' dat Red-Head Boy!" _________________

1. "The last time this plea was allowed in Kentucky was in the Barren Circuit Court, where a negro was on trial for rape before Judge Richard Buckner, and as the prosecutrix was a white woman, he was sentenced to death, owing to the bitter prejudices of a white jury, although the evidence against him was clearly insufficient. The learned judge, heartily sympathizing with the poor wretch, thought of this plea as a means of escape for him, and instructed his attorneys to make it. The negro being tendered the United States Constitution, and found able to read it, he was accordingly burned in the hand and discharged from custody. The plea was shortly afterward (in 1847) abolished by the Legislature."…#034;Sixth Kentucky Law Reporter, p. 508. This statute was carried into Kentucky law from England where, as is known, the "Right of Clergy" was allowed but once to a claimant who was then branded in the palm or on the ball of the thumb to prevent a second appeal. Few Americans are aware that this curious old law ever had a footing in our land. See "Neck Verse," usually Psalm li. I, which if the prisoner could read entitled him, after branding, to his freedom, thus saving his neck.

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Cupid arose


Typed by Sharon Franklin, M. L. S., Boone County Public Library; Manager, Walton Branch

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