RuleI.Pleadings must not be insensible or repugnant.RuleII.Pleadings must not be ambiguous or doubtful.RuleIII.Pleadings must not be argumentative.RuleIV.Pleadings must not be hypothetical or in the alternative.RuleV.Pleadings must not be by way of recital, but must be positive.RuleVI.Things are to be pleaded according to their legal effect.RuleVII.Pleadings should observe the known forms of expression as contained in approved precedents.RuleVIII.Pleadings should have their proper formal commencements and conclusions.RuleIX.A pleading which is bad in part is bad altogether.
These are pleasant rules for a layman to understand, and any time he has a day off or a holiday he should study them.
"Shocking," cries the old-fashioned reactionary lawyer, "What! Do away with pleadings, you might as well do away with the whole case. Pleadings are like the rails for a train. No one on the train sees them, but take away the rails and the train wouldnot go very far. Pleadings are the groundwork of the trial."
He grows more and more indignant.
"The trouble with the modern courts is that they do not know what they are about. If this business of loosening the forms of pleadings had not taken place, lawyers would be better prepared when they came into court and there would not be this floundering about. The good old common law pleadings were the thing. It was a great mistake when they were abandoned. Then everyone knew where they were. If there was a mistake in the pleading then the whole case was thrown out of court. That was as it should be. Men had to be good and careful lawyers in those days. The slipshod methods of the present time are abominable."
"You seem to be a little hard," says the modern lawyer. "Justice ought not to depend on forms."
"You can never have justice without formalizing and shaping the dispute," says the lawyer.
"Quite true," says the modern, "but there has been too much attention paid to the form of justice. Pleadings are the mere mechanics like printing the program or laying the rail."
However, this is all a question that does not come up in the court-room at a trial. Once or twice some reference is made to the pleadings. Perhaps there is some such dispute as this. The defendant attempts to swear that he "paid for the goods then and there." The other lawyer jumps up and says, "I object, your Honor. In his answer he does not plead payment. He only pleads a general denial." The judge puts on his spectacles. The lawyers gather, business stops while everyone looks at the pleadings.
Or again the plaintiff tries to show that when he was thrown from the wagon he bruised his right elbow. The counsel objects there is nothing about injuries to his right elbow in the Bill of Particulars, therefore he can not prove it. The Bill of Particulars says that he hurt his hand, scratched the forearm,and injured the right shoulder, but says nothing about the elbow. Grave consultation by the learned lawyers and the judge ensues. The defendant's lawyer is right, there is nothing in the pleadings about the elbow.
The case can not go on until that important question is settled. There is argument on both sides. The client looks anxious. The jury sit and wonder what that phrase of "the delay of the law" may mean. Finally a bright idea occurs to the lawyer.
"I move to amend, your Honor, so as to include the elbow." The other side looks shocked and disgusted. "What, move to amend in such a casual way as that. The pleading is a serious thing. It has been sworn to, you may not amend a sworn statement in that offhand way." The judge says that he will allow the amendment but if the other side is surprised he will grant an adjournment of the trial to another day. The other side says, "Pardon me a moment until I consult with my client." The judgesmiles. The lawyer goes over to his client and the client says, "For goodness' sake don't adjourn. I've broken up my business for a week to come here now; what's all this fuss about pleadings; let's get on with the case." The lawyer returns to the bar. "We have decided to proceed."
"Amendment allowed," says the judge. The witness now tells about hurting his elbow.
The preparation of a case goes on behind the scenes and before the drama begins. The attempts to rehearse are piece-meal. First one witness is seen, then another, their stories are told, their statements are taken, and they are drilled in their parts. They are told as to what facts they must testify. In one large company that has a quantity of damage suits, there is said to be a school for witnesses where there are dress rehearsals and they are taught how to behave in court.
The greatest farce that occurs in the court-room is the part of preparation that is involved in getting a case on for trial. Therebeing no limit to the time to examine witnesses, to hear arguments, to listen to objections, it is said to be impossible to tell how long a case is going to take. Consequently the calendar having been called, the cases following are answered ready, by office-boys with no expectation of their being immediately reached.
The grave and reverend judge looks over his desk and calls the case of Bowringvs.Bowring. "Ready for the plaintiff," answers a rosy-cheeked boy. "Ready for the defendant," answers another. They look rather young to be trying a case. It is marked ready and the office-boys sit about the court and telephone to the lawyers when they think there is a chance of being nearly reached. This often takes several days. In the meanwhile the cases ahead of the Bowring case have been dragging out their slow and weary performance on the court stage. Matters of fact that should have taken five minutes to bring out by the present usual laborious system of proof, have taken two hours.Argument of counsel on abstruse questions of law have worn and confused the jury and the clients, who have become exhausted and impatient.
The clients and witnesses may have been sitting, trying to understand and becoming more and more mystified.
The dealings of open-handed Justice ought to be plain, prompt, and understandable; instead to the spectator she seems a mysterious jade with no understanding of everyday life. She keeps them waiting there without reason. If the case is marked ready it ought to be ready. The business man feels that Justice is extremely tardy in keeping her appointments.
His natural reverence for abstract Justice prevents him formulating these thoughts, but he continues to wonder. Not understanding the cause he becomes dissatisfied and his experience in court leaves a profound contempt for the system of jurisprudence. He thinks that if any man conducted his own business on the method and plans onwhich the courts are being run he would soon be bankrupt.
"Why," he says, "does not the court get in an efficiency expert on this calendar evil and have it arranged on a business basis?"
During the days the case has been on the calendar the lawyer has had to hold himself in readiness to try the case. The managing clerk has been sending out for his witnesses. They have been served with subp[oe]nas and paid their fees to come to court on the day the case was first marked ready. They arrive and are told to come again the next day. They also have a respect for the court and are glad to come to do their duty and tell the truth. The truth is mighty and will prevail; but in court she can only speak through witnesses. Unless the witness be treated with consideration it would seem that she will not speak very willingly.
In place of having them return and return again, some system soon will be devised of giving them timely notice when the case is to be reached. Exhausting the patience of themen who are the props and mainstays of truth does not seem reasonable, and after a few visits to court they are not anxious to come again. If possible they will escape the process server.
A man who has witnessed an accident to a woman by a street car, in spite of his humanitarian instincts will run around the corner for fear of being called as a witness. The man who hears at night the call of "Police! Police!" in the street, jumps out of bed and begins to put on his clothes, but thinks better of it for the same reason. If a man is in a taxicab that is run into by an express wagon, and the resulting suit is brought by the taxicab company for $110 damages, he may have to attend court five separate days as a witness and the case may not be called. He has to leave the State to avoid being annoyed by the subp[oe]na server, who dogs him at his club and at his home. The witnesses have lost their time and their patience.
Each lawyer knows this and a petty game of playing for delays and adjournmentssometimes goes on. Suppose there is a good claim which nevertheless the defendant denies, knowing how lengthy and wearisome is the game of reaching a case, he often succeeds for years in preventing its collection. The game is simply to tire out the opponents, clients, and witnesses. A clever and unscrupulous lawyer can throw so many obstacles in the way of a plaintiff that, unless he have a strongly developed streak of obstinacy, he will give up in disgust or be glad to compromise.
Unless both sides are anxious to be reached it is practically certain a case will be adjourned two or three times. A sworn affidavit is presented with the doctor's certificate that the client or witness is sick, or the sworn statement that a witness can not be found, or that the lawyer is engaged in the trial of another case. The excuse may be valid and the reasons may be sound, but the adjournment of the day for trial occurs again and again. This is one of the causes for the complaint as to the law's delay. Naturallycalendars have to be made and called. Cases have to be tried and others have to be reached in order, but at least there should be sufficient and intelligent planning of the order.
It seems rather a weak answer to say that no one can tell how much time will be occupied in the trial of a case. If any systematic or scientific method of regulating the calendar were devised, one of the evils would be avoided.
The very call of the calendar in some courts occupies to an unreasonable extent the time of the judge who might as readily be engaged in the real work of the court. The aggregate value of the time of the judge, the lawyers, the witnesses, and the jurymen who have all been sitting about waiting, for the call of the calendar is, for one hour's delay a large sum. The waste might be saved by an intelligent bureau for the administration of court business which would have absolute control over all calendar practice.
That the judge should delay a whole court-room full of people by being late in openingcourt should not only be a matter of apology, but is reprehensible to the extent of being multiplied by the number of people he has kept waiting. On the other hand, the usual course of proceeding being apparently with the object of dragging out the business of the court, makes the tardiness of the judge seem only an incident.
Fortunately there are few attorneys who make appearances in court merely for the sake of adding another item on their bill to the client, and the real delay in reaching a case is due more to the confusion of administrative methods; until some more practical system is devised it will continue. Then witnesses and clients will not be loath to go to court.
The weary work is finished, all the tiresome facts have been gathered, and the rehearsals have been had. The play is written, the parts are cast. The disappointments and delays have been forgotten, the months of preparation have passed. At last the bell for the performance rings and the case is finally to be tried.
The clerk calls the case again for trial, not this time to inquire whether both sides are ready but to announce that it is about to begin. The lawyers, their assistants on both sides and their clients move forward to within the rail. There is a certain amount of commotion as they arrange their papers, their portfolios, law books, hats, and coats, and take their places at the counsellors' table opposite the jury-box. In the dignified courts in this country this rather uncomfortable disposition of overcoats and hats is arranged in an adjacent room. The opposing parties in the battle to be enacted are now facing each other. Matters become at oncemore serious and formal. What was once avoidable is now inevitable.
The stage has still in a measure to be set. Twelve important actors are to be selected. The jury have not yet been chosen. The jury for the sake of comparison take the part of a Greek Chorus, a silent one it is true, until the final word is to be said. They nevertheless are as important and essential a part of the drama as the Chorus, without which in the background no tragedy or comedy was complete.
No curtain divides the theater and the arrangement of the stage goes on before the eyes of the spectators. The choice of the jury constitutes an interesting part of the performance. In this preliminary play the lawyers having important parts, their manner, bearing, tones of voice, their courtesy or discourtesy, repose or nervousness, are watched and unconsciously noted by the jurors. As the jury-box gradually fills, even the slightest idiosyncracy may have some effect on the outcome of the case.
Trial lawyers are careful of their actions even before the case is called to trial. It may be that among the spectators who have been sitting beside the lawyers in the back of the room, waiting for the case to be called, are those who may afterwards be called as jurors. Any affectation of manner or pomposity is quickly detected.
Experienced lawyers immediately they are observed by their tribunal, fall into the parts they are to play during the trial. One lawyer may be jovial and radiate a cheerful confidence. Another has a superior, detached, and academic air which promises a sarcastic cross-examination. Yet another takes on a blustering, brow-beating, intimidating manner, a kind of overmastering virility. Each kind has its own particular advantages, according to the nature of the parts to be played. The most efficient is the manner of the lawyer who is direct, business-like, and consistent with his own personality.
As on the modern stage, there is a return to simplicity of acting. Naturalness and aconstant regard for actuality is the only safe rule. Simplicity and naturalness, even if studiously affected, usually prove convincing. The aim is toward consistency and a non-elaborate manner.
Above all the lawyer remembers that the jury admire the good fighter, and it is with a certain obvious subtlety that one successful advocate in New York lets his assistant carry his coat, books, and papers, but he himself always carries his hat—a derby, by the way, for a high hat would be over important. The great man knows that the jurors are aware of the importance of the occasion and that their eyes will follow his every movement. As he walks up to the counsel table and deposits his derby it may well become a gage of battle.
The clerk at the side of the judge's desk begins turning a large hollow wooden wheel; within it are cards on each of which is written the name of a juror who has been served by the sheriff to attend on the panel for the trial term of the court. The numbersummoned naturally is larger than the twelve needed for any one case. Often those who have to attend at a term of court sit about with nothing to do until they are actually drawn on a case, although they receive their fees for attendance. There is the story of the ignorant workman who was serving his first time on a panel.
"Why," he said, "I was sitting around all day worryin' about my lost working day. If I'd known I was getting two dollars for doing nothing I might have been enjoying myself."
The clerk puts his hand into the wooden wheel after the names have been well mixed and draws out one card after another, calling the names aloud until twelve jurors have been called to the box.
To the entirely new spectator there is a certain mystification about this drawing of the jury from the wooden drum with the handle for turning. To the initiated it may seem rather humorous, like the shuffling of the cards of justice, the drawing from a hat,or the turning of a roulette wheel. It is, however, significant of one of the great principles of Anglo-Saxon law, and that is a trial by a court of average men selected from among the ordinary citizens and drawn on the particular case by chance.
As each juror's name is called he comes forward and his appearance is not lost by counsel. He takes his seat in the box, the juror being first called is known as Juror No. 1, and by this chance, if he remain in the box, he ordinarily becomes the foreman of the jury. In cases of special juries, as of the Grand Jury, the foreman is chosen by selection. The successive jurors are respectively numbered according to their seats beginning from right to left facing them. Here it may be noted that some lawyers in addressing questions to the individual jurors are careful to remember to call them by name, realizing that no one likes to be known by a number. Instead of referring to him as Juror No. 7 or No. 9, he addresses him as Mr. Sullivan or Mr. Schmittberger.
The twelve men being in the box the counsellors begin to examine them as to their qualifications. On a small board bound lengthwise by rubber bands, or stuck in grooves are the cards drawn from the wheel and arranged according to the number of the seats, and containing the names, addresses, and occupations of the gentlemen seated in the box. There are two means of removing a juryman. One is by challenge for cause,i.e., that he is shown to be unfit or prejudiced, and the other is what is known as a peremptory challenge which is practically the same as saying one side or the other does not like the man's looks. There are connotations about the word challenge which are essentially dramatic. It implies a battle, a duel, a tournament.
It is difficult to ascertain exactly what principles govern the successful examination and selection of a jury. In Massachusetts and in certain important cases in New York, the whole panel of jurors summoned for the term of court have been investigated bydetectives in order that the lawyer might have information about who was to be rejected or accepted as a juror to decide the case. The propriety of doing this may be questioned and the ordinary case could not bear such an expense.
Nevertheless there is a possibly sound reason for obtaining such information. Given a man's condition in life, his habits, his occupation, his church, his associations, his politics, and given on the other hand a certain state of facts, it is nearly ascertainable how he is going to decide those facts. If a man has always been a rent payer and has probably had continued trouble with his landlord about repairs and a feeling of resentment at the regular recurrence of rent day, is it not natural that he is going to be somewhat prejudiced against a landlord in a dispute between landlord and tenant? or on the other hand can a man who is one of the unfortunate owners of real estate, and who having paid taxes, interest, insurance, repairs for removal of tenement house violations, and withfrequent vacancies, really be absolutely just? If a juryman is a Jew, a Catholic, or a Baptist, there will probably be an innate sympathy for his co-religionist. The law does not recognize this unless the juryman is honest enough to confess a prejudice. The soundness of the Anglo-Saxon jury system is based on the theory that there is not one juryman but that there are twelve and that among twelve there will be an average between the landlord and the rent payer, between the Baptist and the Catholic.
The counsel ordinarily selects the jury with observation and common sense as his sole guide. The customary question asked jurymen, whether, given such and such a state of facts, "Do you think you could render a fair and impartial verdict?" is manifestly absurd to the juryman. Every man believes himself to be perfectly honest and just. It takes a strong character to say, "I couldn't be fair." As a matter of fact such a man ought to be kept on the jury rather than let go. As a juryman once saidto a lawyer after the case: "Why did you excuse me when I said I knew the other lawyer? You wasted your challenge; he wouldn't have let me stay. I knew him too well."
The extent to which the examination of the fitness of jurors may go is in the discretion of the court. The two extremes are represented by the methods in the English courts where the judge exercises close supervision over every question in the selection of the jury in what would be considered in America an arbitrary and unjustifiable manner, and the extreme liberality at criminal trials in this country. The difference in time is often between that of a few minutes and a few weeks.
Naturally the challenge for cause may or may not be allowed by the judge—the form being, "Your Honor, I ask you to excuse Mr. Smith,"—because the lawyers are more careful in attempting them; for if they are not allowed the juror challenged may be small-minded enough to retain a grudge against thecounsel. The sure challenges are the peremptory ones without any cause stated or reason given. The number of peremptory challenges for each side is usually six. As soon as a juror is challenged he steps out of the box and the clerk draws a new name from the wheel.
It is very much as if a player were dealt a hand of twelve cards, and under the rules of the game each side can discard and draw six times from the pack six single cards to improve his holding. The hand, however, is not only his but his opponent's, who may likewise discard and draw six cards when the first player is satisfied. When the second player is through the first may again discard any of the new cards the second has substituted, provided, of course, that six drawings have not been exhausted. This game of chance is always played with an eye to creating a favorable impression on the jury and may be politely finessed to the extreme.
"Mr. Merriweather, do you know the defendant in this case, Mr. Jacobs, or hisattorney, Mr. Jenkins, or his assistant, Mr.—er—the young gentleman on his left?" is the usual form, delivered with the utmost urbanity. It means very little, but perhaps helps the lawyer to identify an antagonistic juryman and to obtain their answers, which are almost uniformly in the negative. It is obviously desirable that the juryman, as a judge, should not be a friend of the opposite side. From the manner of the man in the box, as he answers, may possibly be inferred his general disposition, and all further questions have this purpose in view. So the attorney for the plaintiff proceeds throughout the twelve before him, and he may say at any time, "Your Honor, I excuse juror number so and so."
Usually he examines the whole twelve before "excusing" any of them, and when doing so many lawyers turn from the box to the judge as they say, "I will excuse numbers four, five, and eleven." Frequently those remaining do not realize why their brethren have been dismissed. A slightbewilderment may pass across the faces of all, as a man here and there, under the beckoning finger of the clerk, rises to give up his seat.
Opinion differs as to the extent to which challenges should be exercised. Some trial lawyers are chary in using them, being anxious to appear frank, trusting and willing to accept the judgment of any decent citizen. Others are meticulously insistent and exhaust all their challenges. The first attitude is the one of saying:
"I have such a fine case, so honest and just, that it is impossible that any fair-minded man should decade against me. Therefore, I shall not insist on these minor points of interest or prejudice. You are all open-minded. I will leave it to anyone." The second attitude was explained by one lawyer who always put his hand to his chin, looked deeply and inquiringly at the jury, and said in an important voice:
"I challenge jurors numbers 6, 8, 9, and 11, or, 4, 5, and 12." When privately asked onwhat theory he proceeded in his earnest selection which seemed to imply so wonderful an insight, confessed to no theory at all except the plainly human one that he believed in using up all his challenges simply because it made the other jurors, who remained in the box, feel better and more selected. But the main purpose of selection is to secure a fair and intelligent jury.
Not infrequently one side or the other really wishes to get rid of the best men and willing to take the risk that this will not be apparent. In a real estate case, counsel for the plaintiff not having a strong case succeeded in eliminating every man who had ever owned or who had ever had the slightest experience in houses or property. It was a bold confession that no one who understood the case would decide for him. In railway accident cases, the plaintiff, who asks damages against the company, will often excuse so far as he can, every juror who appears well-to-do or a man of property.
A prominent New York lawyer, when ayoung man, had defended a case brought against a corporation. The plaintiff and his attorneys were Jews, and the jury-box when first filled was seven-twelfths Hebraic. Counsel for the plaintiff immediately excused the five Gentiles and when the corporation's lawyer stood up, not a man in the jury-box was of his own race. He accepted them. The trial went on, and it appeared that the plaintiff's claim was very weak indeed. At last counsel for the defendant had to sum up and he concluded in this way:
"Gentlemen of the Jury: The plaintiff hopes to win this case not on the law, nor on his evidence, nor on any consideration of justice. He hopes to succeed because of the simple fact that he is a Jew, his lawyer is a Jew, and every one of you men are Jews." With an expression of faith in the sense of justice inherent in the Jewish race and of confidence in the verdict, the attorney for the defendant sat down. The jury decided in his favor.
Such boldness, when successful, is oftenrewarded, but it is of course inherently dangerous.
Skilful counsel will succeed in ingratiating themselves from the very beginning, but they will endeavor to do so only with the jury as a whole. Nothing is more unfortunate than to bestow attention upon a particular juryman: that is to flirt with a juror. If he has not yet been sworn in with the rest and the opponent sees it, he will certainly get rid of him. If he remained, he would very probably be regarded with suspicion by his chosen associates. Should the counsel think that one man in the box is favorably disposed toward him, he wisely leaves him alone and hoping that the other side will not notice it, devotes himself the more earnestly to the others.
The jury is at last selected. The challenges have been exhausted. Both lawyers look as though they were pleased. The judge is informed that the jury is satisfactory, which is, of course, an euphemistic term. No jury is ever entirely satisfactory to both sides,but it is a polite way of saying it is the best they can get under the circumstances. The judge stops trying to balance his check book and looks up at the jury. The attendant motions them to their feet. They hold up their hands. The judge also rises.
"Gentlemen," he says, "Do you each and all of you solemnly swear to well and truly try the case of John Smith against Thomas Gregory and a just verdict render according to the evidence? So help you God." They do not answer, but they sit down.
The jury is chosen, sworn, and sitting in the jury-box. The judge begins unfolding the papers of the case so that he may read the pleadings. The actual trial of issues is about to begin. The court attendant has taken the jurymen's hats and coats, another attendant has shown spectators to their seats and politely as possible suppressed the young law clerk who does not see why he could not go up to the judge and ask him what became of the case of Jones against Allen that was on the calendar last Thursday and should have been on to-day, or ask if "His Honor decided that motion in the case of Meyer against Cohen." The doors of the court-room are closed. The attendantsgo about looking for whisperers and saying, "Cease all conversation." The lady client is interrupted in telling her lawyer that she thinks the judge has a kind face, but that she does not like the looks of the man in uniform standing next to him, or vice versa. Gradually the court-room quiets and a spirit of expectancy prevails.
But the actual taking of evidence and the hearing of testimony is not yet. Now comes what is known as the opening. So in the tournament, the armored knights entered with a blast of trumpets, their names and titles having been called, and it was customary for them to ride once or twice around the lists to let the judges see their armor, their weapons, their mounts, their trappings and accoutrements, or they might even try a tilt or two at one another. The introductory speech of counsel is somewhat in the nature of a parade or a preliminary skirmish. It may also be compared to the prologue spoken before the beginning of a drama. The speech with the vivid brevity, socommon in legal terminology, is called the opening.
The object is to show to the judge and jury what the drama is about. The secondary object is to arouse interest. Immediately after the opening comes the evidence, which is usually bald, fragmentary, and disconnected. It might be impossible for the jury to understand the relation of one bit of testimony to another. Take a simple case such as a suit for the failure to pay a bill at a dry-goods store. One witness testifies to the sale, another to the packing of the goods, another to the delivery; a receipt is introduced in evidence. Each one would not tell a connected story. The opening outlines the facts and makes the evidence understandable. It also has the function of an appetizer. This may seem a trifle unnecessary. But let us take an illustration. A whole case may depend upon a deed. If the paper itself were put in and read to the jury without explanation they would be bored. One witness is to tell this part of the story,another that, and the missing link of the chain may be supplied by the deed. The jury are not to be mystified before their interest is aroused. Are not the lives, property, or reputations of particular men at stake? The ordinary man and even more the average juryman has far too strong a sense of responsibility to be bored if truly he can understand what it is all about. The function of the opening is to tell him.
As the counsel begins opening every juryman leans forward and watches him intently. They feel their responsibility as officers of justice and there have been few complaints of their falling asleep during the trial. The jurymen have come to know the names of the opposing lawyers and the faces of the clients, if they have been pointed out during the examination of the jurors, but nothing more. Are the jury to hear a story of bitter resentment or of passion and crime, or a calm demand for the payment of a debt? The opening will show.
Did the plaintiff during years of effortbuild up a business and take the defendant in as a partner only to be defrauded by him? Plaintiff's attorney will indicate the years of effort briefly, but impressively, before sketching the manner in which the defendant stole from him by fraud the fruits of his labor. When the plaintiff then testifies that in 1890 he opened a small store in Fourteenth Street, moved in 1896 to Twenty-third Street and thence in 1916 to an up-town street off the Avenue, the dates will sink into the jurors' minds and they will portray for themselves the twenty-six years of painstaking effort. No eloquence then could rival the effect of the witness's slow, bare recital of his progress. Yet without counsel's prologue what could be more dull than the naming of street numbers and dates?
The matter of the testimony may be interesting, but unless the witness has a rare gift of expression and a sense of the picturesque, the way in which it will be given may be dull and plain. But at this point the little keen-faced lawyer for the other side jumpsup and interrupts: "I object, your Honor; what difference does it make where he lived in 1890, whether on Fifth Avenue or Mulberry Bend? What we want to know is what he is suing for now." And the court will probably rule with him and keep the plaintiff down to more relevant facts.
Some of the important answers may be yes or no. Counsel in such a case supplies the color and gives an appearance of life to what is actually alive enough, but which alone would seem dry. Even if so famous a character of fiction as "Becky Sharp" came into court and only looked her part with what intense interest would we not hang on her testimony, though it consisted of no more than "Yes, I did"; "I never saw him before." We should be fascinated by this bald statement because Thackeray had interested us so enormously in the lady. The air would be electrified by the force of her personality. Without a previous introduction, however, we might be so lacking in discernment as to find her, in appearance and voice, no moreunusual than the average witness who goes on the stand.
Thackeray not only created Becky Sharp; he also created our interest in her. Similarly the lawyer may create an interest in his witnesses, some of whom may be personally every bit as extraordinary as any character in a novel. If a witness be actually commonplace, there is all the more need for making him vividly human; if he be so colorless that nothing could be made of him personally, he may acquire interest through the class to which he belongs, for classes have a personable color more deep than the almost colorless individual.
To induce the jury to visualize the story and the characters, the highest literary gift may be brought into play. The lawyer is limited as to time and the description he may employ. He has, however, his voice and expression: an actor's tools. But again the rule of simplicity and naturalness should apply.
The opening speech is a prologue and itdoes not argue. Counsel will not be permitted to argue his case in his opening, for his opponent will object and the Court will often say, warningly, "Counselor, you are summing up." This limitation, however, is in reality an advantage, not merely because it applies to both sides, but for the reason that no lawyer with any sense of dramatic values would anticipate hisdénouement. Argument is apt to be chilling unless the decision sought for can be discerned, however dimly, without it. And how are the jury to frame their decision before the evidence has been presented? The jury should be interested in Miss Becky Sharp and prepared to understand her testimony, but, before they have heard her story from witnesses who know, they will not be favorably impressed by urgings that she was wronged or badly treated.
There is usually leniency in regard to the length of the opening, because it is well recognized that few witnesses can tell a connected story, or tell it well. From theold French story of the lawyer who beganavant le création du monde, and the judge who asked him to pass onáu deluge, down to the usual modern method of nagging the lawyer into stating only the skeleton of the action, there are various degrees of eloquence, varying naturally according to the importance of the case.
A wonderful thing the prologue may be in its restraint and picturesque vividness, and, not least, in its clarity. Confused business dealings may be described so that important sums, figures, and dates will be remembered and recognized when they appear again in the evidence. Counsel, for the time, occupies the center of the stage; his course is in his hands to make or mar. He reaches the end of his speech, bows, and the first witness is called.
Before the testimony begins the judge looks at the defendant's counsel and asks him whether he wishes to state his defense. There is a different practice in this regard in different courts. Some insist that thedefendant ought to tell at once what his side is about, others that the defendant should wait until the plaintiff is through all his evidence and has rested; then at the beginning of the defendant's case the defendant's lawyer opens and makes his introduction.
The difference between these two manners of proceeding is so essential that it may be explained. On the one hand the lawyer feels that he should not be compelled to give away what he is going to do, how he proposes to meet the attack, whether he will lie in ambush and snipe the plaintiff as he comes on or intrench behind a rampart and meet him with the full force of his battery of evidence. He may be planning to make a sudden sally after the plaintiff has shot his arrows and exhausted all his ammunition. The lawyer feels if he tells his plan of campaign he loses the advantage of generalship.
Suppose a simple case: The plaintiff is suing on a long account for a bill of goods which will take a long time to prove. The defendant has a receipt in full showingpayment. On the theory that the defendant need not disclose his evidence in the opening, he may sit still with the receipt up his sleeve, let the plaintiff open and call his witness, the evidence may drag itself along with the usual motions and objections, and after the plaintiff rests the defendant opens to the jury.
"Gentlemen," he says, "this is a simple case. The plaintiff claims he sold the goods and the defendant did not pay for them. I propose to show you that the plaintiff was not telling the truth. I made him prove to you that he sold every item in the bill because I wanted to show you how untruthful he is. My client, the defendant, not only paid for the goods but I can show the receipt in full signed by the plaintiff."
To the layman this is absurd. The defendant should have shown the receipt in the first place and all the waste time of the trial would have been saved. "No," says the technical lawyer, "if I had disclosed my evidence before, the plaintiff would have framed his evidence to meet the situation."The modern view is otherwise. In France, for instance, no paper can be offered in evidence on a trial unless it has been shown to the attorney for the other side beforehand and everyone has had a chance to examine it. Indeed, this exhibition of original documents is conducted in so open and honest a fashion that it is customary to send all the original papers to the other side without even taking a receipt or retaining a copy and in the whole history of the French bar the loss of such a paper has never been known.
It seems more practical and sensible that the lawyers for the defendant should be required to state the nature and detail the facts of his defense. It is the difference between the old idea of trial and the new. The first was an imitation battle, the new idea is not that it is so much a struggle as an investigation of the facts. If the plaintiff wants to meet the receipt he can make a counter-attack or explanation in the rebuttal and explain how he came to sign the receipt in full. The judge and the jury feel thenecessary element of the trial is to arrive at the facts and that the planning and methods of charge and counter-charge are not so significant. The old conception of the trial as a battle is disappearing.
The opening by the defendant at the beginning directly after the plaintiff has finished his opening and before a witness is called, makes the trial simpler to the minds of the jurymen who are to decide the facts. The pleadings are supposed to define and state the issues but as they are usually technical they have become not sufficiently pliable. The defendant by his answer denies merely the facts stated in the plaintiff's complaint in the paragraphs numbered six, eight, and ten. The defendant on his opening should be compelled to make plain to the minds of the jury what he intends to show. He should take the position of a plain business man who says, These foolish people imagine they have a claim against me. They have nothing of the kind.
The plaintiff says that he understood thecontract to be so and so and that acting on that assumption both parties did certain things and know the defendant with evil intent and wrongfully forgetting the duty he owes to keep his word refuses to live up to his agreement, therefore, "Gentlemen, we have been compelled to come to court and bring this action and we shall show you gentlemen facts from which you must find a verdict in our favor." The defendant then arises and says:
"Gentlemen, we are going to show a letter that contradicts all this." Oratory has little place in the opening of the defendant.
The judge has been, during the two openings, attempting to keep the two counsels down to the facts which he thinks may be proved and from wandering too far afield. As quickly as they are both through he says, "Call your first witness," and with trepidation the witness takes the stand.
The whole question as to witnesses is whether they shall be allowed to tell what they want or what the lawyers want. As they are both in the court-room they must abide by the rules of the court. That is the trouble: the rules are against the witness.
When the witness goes on the stand for the first time the court attendant asks her to raise her right hand. She does so and tries to sit down in the witness chair so that she may feel a little more at ease. "Stand up," says the officer. The judge looks at her inquisitorially over his spectacles. She tries to smile and regains her feet. "Raise your hand," says the judge. The delightful and sanitary custom of kissing the Biblehas been done away with. Even the habit of resting the hand on the Book is disappearing and in many courts a Bible is hard to find.
The lady, in the confusion of appearing on a stage for the first time and standing on a raised platform before an audience, holds up her left hand. The court attendant jumps at her. The judge has seen the same performance many times before and hardly notices thecontretemps. By this time she is confused and ruffled and after hearing something murmured about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, she sinks into the chair and begins in a very uncomfortable frame of mind the ordeal of giving testimony.
What she wants to say, what she ought to say, what she was told to say is all gone. The jury and the judge understand and feel sympathetic but the rules of the court do not permit them to be polite, and to ask her to take a more comfortable chair, to have some tea, whether the children have had anyafter-effects of the measles, or to take off her hat and stay a while. She knows she has to stay and that she is not going to enjoy it.
She is the important witness who was riding in the car at the time it crashed into the grocery wagon. She is honest, of average intelligence, and wants to tell the truth. She is asked:
"At the time of the accident, where were you?" She says that she was in the car going up-town to see her married daughter whose children were sick with the measles and she was in a hurry. The lawyer moves to strike out the latter part of the answer. The fact that she was going to see her daughter, that the children had the measles, and that she was in a hurry are not relevant and have nothing to do with the case. The only relevant fact is that she was in the up-town car.
She was sitting four seats from the front and thinking the car was going very slowly and the children would be asleep before shegot there. It is immaterial that she was thinking about her grandchildren or the measles, or that she was thinking about the car going slowly. The real question is how fast the car was going.
The reason for the rule of evidence is that the court always wants to know not what she thought, but what she actually saw. She will not be allowed to tell what she thought or what she told her daughter after the accident. The daughter can not be called to the stand to testify what her mother told her, when she reached her house, about what had happened. Newspaper accounts of the accident may not be allowed in evidence, nor what the policemen reported on the accident, because he arrived afterward. Anglo-Saxon law holds the proof down to what was actually perceived by the five senses. The court makes up its own mind from these perceptions and the facts themselves. It does not want to hear what someone thinks, or what the witness believes or concludes, but only what he perceived.
There is much to be said for and against this rule on both sides. A broader method to the lawyer seems shockingly loose and slipshod. The rules of evidence to the bystander seem an inhuman farce. The first allows an atmosphere to be created from which the whole truth may be reached. Would not an ordinary person, if he wanted to find out about the accident, read the newspapers, find out the police reports, ask what a witness thought, what that witness told someone else about the accident afterward? Is she not now giving someone an account of the accident?
Psychologists agree that no one can accurately narrate their perceptions and what happens before their eyes. Moreover, the tests performed on school and college graduates in regard to their powers of observation have shown the fallibility of human perception. The failure to perceive, plus the failure to remember, plus inadequacy of language, makes all testimony unsatisfactory. People of little education are stillless able to either see or explain. The only safe way is to obtain a composite photograph of the witness's mind and of the thoughts that arise from the original perception, a continuation of impressions.
Judges or juries never determine cases by first deciding which witness is telling the truth or at least the exact truth. They take it for granted that both sides are lying somewhat; that no matter how well they mean and how hard they try, all witnesses are incapable of telling the exact truth. The unfortunate part of the law is that this is not officially recognized. There is a hypocrisy in not recognizing the inadequacy of human eyes and ears to grasp even simple concrete facts. A timidity exists that will not allow the admission of human imperfection.
The proof of this is that when three witnesses go on the stand and describe a thing as having happened in the same way, immediately there is a strong doubt in the mind of the jury about the whole case. Suppose the question of the time a crime wascommitted arises and the defense tries to prove an alibi by showing the defendant was in a saloon at that time. There may have been three witnesses who really saw him at the same time. One witness comes on the stand and says 3:10, the next witness says he saw him at 3:10, and third says the same. The jury conclude that the story has been made up.
Yet suppose the first witness says he saw him sometime after lunch, and the second that he remembers seeing the defendant in the saloon sometime that day, but he is not sure whether it was in the morning or the afternoon, and the third witness says that he saw him during the week, but that he does not remember the day, whether a Thursday or a Friday—it is probable that the defendant will have a much better chance of succeeding with his alibi.
The lady in the car could not remember the time of the day, except that it was near the children's bed time. She had heard the crash and seen the wagon turn on to thecar tracks. With a great many objections she finally gets to the point of the crash.
"Did you see the car hit the wagon?" "I object to that as leading," says the other lawyer. "It is leading and suggestive." Technically he may be correct, but if the judge has common sense he overrules the objection.
The proper question would be: "What happened next?" The witness, however, might remember the paper bag of oranges she was carrying to her grandchildren and instead of telling about the accident begin to describe how she dropped them on the floor. Leading questions are necessary in nearly every case. The reason that they are objectionable and ruled out is, that the judge and the jury ought to hear not the lawyer's narrative of the facts, but what the witness actually remembers.
A witness on the stand appears at his worst. If any one from real life were suddenly thrust unprepared and unlearned in theatrical art upon a stage the incongruityof the situation would be appalling. Yet the witness is thrown into new and strange surroundings. It is a portion of the reality of life shown vividly against a conventionalized background. The judge and jury in a vague manner understand this. The lawyer producing the witness feels this and elicits the testimony in a soothing manner.
The objects of cross-examination are as follows. The first is to prove that the story of the witness is not true, and the other is to bring out something new. The opposing counsel often forgets the purpose of his cross-examination and by attempting to bully and frighten the witness, usually either by sarcasm or a doubting manner, accomplishes very little. Not one cross-examination out of five hundred amounts to anything. The judge has heard many and he has little hope of their being of much interest. The jury make so much allowance for the witness being frightened on the stand and for the fact that she is in the hands of a clever lawyer, that they are not muchimpressed even if she contradicts herself or is proved mistaken. At best it is only a mistake, not a deliberate lie. The lawyer thinks he owes a moral obligation to his client and to himself to cross-examine. He is compelled to go on. There is a musty tradition of the law that a trial without cross-examination is not a proper trial. It is a legal fetish and one of the things that is done. The judge expects it, the jury expect it, the client expects it and the public.
The client pays his money and he ought not to be disappointed. If it were omitted altogether, the judge and jury might not feel the loss so bitterly. Perhaps they might prefer it and the question for the lawyer is whether it is better to satisfy the client or the jury. In this quandary the lawyer may forget that the main point is to win the battle. When the case is lost the client does not care at all how brilliantly the lawyer looked, acted, or fought.
If the lawyer reasons he will say:
"If the object of my cross-examinationis to show that the witness is not telling the truth, have I much chance of getting him to confess the fact?" The witness knows something about perjury. He is afraid and he has heard about those pitfalls of cross-examination. Does the lawyer remember his own hopeful son and how only yesterday he could not get him to admit stealing the cake even with the prospect of immediately impending punishment? Only that little rim of chocolate about the ears was the proof. Even the deaf little child, who is not as intelligent as the witness, will not admit that he was untruthful. But still he goes on cross-examining.
If the witness is finally shown a paper which he or she signed when the investigator of the railroad came to see her, and in which she said she was sitting on the sixth seat, there is not such a great deal to be proud of.
"Ha, Ha," thinks the lawyer "at last," "didn't you just now say you were sitting on the fourth seat?" "I don't remember," says the witness. "What," thunders thelawyer, "you don't remember; then your memory is poor. I will read you what you said on your direct examination," and he does. "Now which was it, the sixth or the fourth seat."
The other object of cross-examination is to elicit new facts. This is a dangerous risk for the lawyer, and unless he is sure of his ground, he had better not take it. He will do better to let his own side tell the facts than to bring them out through an unwilling witness who is on his guard and thinking the opposing lawyer is trying to trap him.
The mistake that most lawyers make in cross-examination is to ask the witness to repeat what he said in his direct testimony. Telling the same story over again merely accents the facts in the minds of the jury. The lawyer asks:
"You say that you saw the driver whip up his horses when the car was a block away." The lawyer may doubt the truth of the statement but the mere repetition of the words affects the memory of the jury.Unless he has a distinct object in going over the testimony, either to show the direct contrary strongly, or the fact that the witness has learned the testimony by rote and that the repetition is in exactly the same words, the lawyer would do better to desist.
Strange as it may seem the rules of evidence are actually based upon common sense. The ordinary experience of mankind gave rise to the rules of evidence, but the difficulty is that the further experience of civilization is giving rise to new rules which are not consistent with the old. Nevertheless the present rules when reasonably applied are fairly good. The question really is whether there should be any at all.
Accepting the fact that there should be rules they are based on two principles; the first is that only something which has to do with a case can be proved and second that it can be proved only in a safe and reasonable way. It may seem impossible to the lawyer and equally to the laymen to state the rules of evidence in simple language. But theprinciples of common sense will govern in the end, as they have in the past, notwithstanding they have been hidden under a mass of verbiage, ancient forms, and obsolete customs.
The theory is that justice wants the highest and best it can obtain, the court insists on the two principal rules; that evidence must be the very best that can be obtained and must be brought out in the safest, clearest, and most authentic manner.
Take, for instance, the rule that conclusions of the witness are not allowed. If the court considered as evidence that the testimony "the defendant brought the goods and they were delivered," and the defendant came on the stand and said, "I did not buy the goods and they were not delivered," the court would have before it merely two contrary beliefs or conclusions. It would be a case of "Katy did, Katy didn't."
The rule of evidence is plain that makes it necessary for the plaintiff to show where he saw the defendant, what was done, and what was said or written by the two parties.If the question is as to the delivery, it is not enough for the plaintiff to say "I delivered the goods." The court must have proof of the history of the goods. The driver of the wagon must be called who can testify where he drove, what package he carried, and what was done with it when he reached the house.
The whole subject of expert witnesses is not so complicated after all. They are merely persons of exceptional experience who are allowed to testify as to something of which they know nothing. They may have never seen nor heard the facts in dispute but because they have had so much experience on similar facts they are allowed to say what they think of facts produced by eye witnesses before the court. As conclusions and opinions may be various, there is at times a great variety in experts, and because the very name of experts implies technicality, there is a feeling in the minds of the jury and the public, that the testimony of experts will befog by a mass of non-understandable terms.
The doctor who testified in a case in which the plaintiff suffered a sore back and had seventy-five dollars damages from the jury is an example. He said:
"The plaintiff was suffering from traumatic sacro-illiac disease, traumatic sinovitis of the knee and wrist and from traumatic myositis of the muscles of the back."
In reality the testimony of expert witnesses is very good evidence. If it is given in plain and understandable English and the jury think the expert a clean-cut, sensible man, it is just what the jury want to learn. An expert's method of reasoning about the facts in evidence is the same as that employed by the jury in the jury-room. It is merely an opinion; for on the opinion of the jury, based on the evidence depends their verdict.
While the witnesses are being examined, called to the stand, sworn, being excused, and being cross-examined, there occur numberless incidents of the trial known as the objections, exceptions, and motions.