These are the stage tricks and little incidents that give variety to the performance. No drama would be complete without a few diversions. So far as the drama itself goes, they are of no great importance except to give pungency and interest to the action.
The lawyer asks an apparently good question. "I object," says the other lawyer, "on the ground that it is incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial." The judge has to rule. He may not exactly have heard the question. The stenographer reads it again. The other lawyer leans forward in a frenzy of fear lest the question be ruled out. He begins to argue.
"The question is perfectly proper; the witness ought to be permitted to answer it." "No," says the other lawyer, "it is improper in form, calls for a conclusion, and should not be allowed." The judge looks puzzled. "Read that again," he says. The question is, "What kind of a cow was it you saw in the plaintiff's garden?" "I still object," says the lawyer. "The witness has not been shown to be an expert. If my learned friend is going to attempt to qualify him as an expert, I desire an opportunity to cross-examine him concerning his experience in cows." "Not at all," answers the lawyer. "The question is entirely proper and I stand on my legal rights." The judge hesitates; if he does not rule correctly the lawyer will take an exception and the Appellate Court may not like it. So he says, turning to the witness, "You may answer, but I will reserve the question and decide it later on a motion to strike out." "I except," says the lawyer. The jury look relieved. The witness straightens up, the opposing lawyersits back in disgusted contempt at such a loose method of procedure. "Well," says the witness, "it was a red cow."
This may go on for some time.
"I move to strike the answer out," says the lawyer; and the argument begins all over again.
Throughout the trial the client and the jury are waiting for these objections and exceptions. The nature of an exception is a notice served on the judge that his rulings are wrong. The theory is that if he wants to change them he had better do so before the case goes to appeal. It is a covert threat to the judge. There is a principle in some courts that no ruling that is not excepted to can be considered on appeal; consequently a lawyer is careful to preserve his rights by exceptions.
A young lawyer once had this principle so firmly fixed in his mind that when he went to court he began taking exceptions to everything, even rulings in his favor. He would make an objection; the judge wouldsustain it. "I except," said the lawyer. He would make a motion; the judge would grant it. "I except," said the young lawyer. The other side would make an objection; the judge would rule against them and in favor of the lawyer, "I except," said the lawyer. Finally the situation grew so strained that the judge called the young man to the bench and spoke to him confidentially. His explanation was: "This is my first case and the head of my firm told me to be sure and take exceptions to all rulings."
Some lawyers are so in the habit of excepting, it sounds as though they were hiccoughing. "Overruled"; "I except"; "Allowed"; "I except"; "Denied"; "I except"; "Granted"; "I except." It becomes a custom as constant as the refrain in a comic opera.
Theoretically it may have a sound basis under the law, but so little practical value has it that it seems ludicrous. The lawyers and the judges consider it a matter of course.If the judge after all the argument finally decides to let the testimony as to the red cow stand, he will not be inclined to change his mind because the lawyer interjects that threatening exception. The sound of the word is spiteful and seems to express the resentment of the lawyer at the ruling of the judge.
No example could be found in the thousand volumes of law reports where the judge changes his mind on account of an exception. The object in this particular direction is vain.
With regard to appeal; the Appellate Court that attempts to decide a case on the exceptions taken at the trial would have a difficult time. They would have to disentangle the mesh of evidence and find out whether that important piece of testimony on page 204 was excepted to or not, then whether there was a proper ruling; refer to the stenographer's minutes and look at the important exception on page 59 and again on page 106. Unless the question decided wasexcepted to, the Appellate Court can not decide it. It is hard to imagine that any court could be so rigorous and narrow-minded that they could hang justice on such little pegs of exceptions, which the stenographer in the hurry of the moment may have forgotten to insert.
In the criminal courts there are no exceptions on the part of the people, because there are no appeals on behalf of the State. The defendant continues to repeat "I respectfully except." "I must insist on my exception." Think of a man being jailed for seventeen years because his case was not reversed on account of the failure to except. The court could not believe Justice to be so blind-folded that she can not understand the evidence as a whole.
Exceptions are the tacks and pin pricks of a trial. They are of so little value in the main structure of the drama that if they are forgotten by either side, the court should provide them with a bushel basketful which could be distributed by the handful whereverthe lawyers thought they would be useful or pleasant.
Objections are of three main kinds: irrelevant, immaterial, and incompetent. They are like the magic words that open or unlock the doors of evidence and let it in or keep it out. They have three distinct meanings which lawyers understand. A thing may be immaterial, but not incompetent, or incompetent and not immaterial, or irrelevant and not immaterial, or irrelevant and not incompetent, or incompetent and not irrelevant, or one or both or not at all. Any student of law can fully explain the difference, but the distinction is immaterial and irrelevant, and if the reader is in doubt let him ask any lawyer friend to tell him in plain words, without insulting his common sense, what the distinction between immaterial and irrelevant is.
The confusion of one young man found expression finally in the terms "irreverent, impertinent, and—and—and—no—matter."
The lawyer, when he objects, usuallyattempts a few other suggestions which may be considered by the judge, such as "the question is leading and suggestive; grossly improper; calling for a conclusion; objected to as argumentative or because of its ambiguity."
Whatever the trouble with objections may be, it is neither the fault of the lawyer, the judge, nor the witness. When certain evidence is not allowed by law it is proper that it be objected to. Unreasonable and often comical as objections sound, the basis of their existence in law is that the court wants the best possible proof.
Instead of a copy of a letter the judge and the jury ought to see the original. Instead of the copy of a will the paper actually signed by the testator is wanted. Suppose a question arises as to the payment of a bill. The defendant says that he went into the store and paid it. The best proof is to be given by someone who saw him pay it. A witness to whom he came afterward and said that he had been down to the storeand had paid the bill is not so accurate a witness as the man who was in the store and saw the money paid over. It is to keep out this poorer proof that objections are made.
If the objection is good, the judge says "Objection sustained," or if he thinks the evidence the best he allows it and says "Objection overruled," then the witness may proceed and answer the question. Unless the lawyer objecting states the ground or reasons for his objection, the objection is not supposed to be valid for the other side ought to be apprised of the reason so that he may supply the proper proof, that is why the objection is named as irrelevant, incompetent, and immaterial, so as to cover all possible grounds.
The reasons given for the objections: incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial might, so far as the average man is concerned, read "incontepent," "irrevelant," and "immature." The words when repeated together seem like that old legal term "incorporeal hereditaments." They are imposing and addtone to the trial. The solemnity of repetition is always a valuable asset. The real value of the word irrelevant is shown by repeating irrelevant, "irrevelant," irrelevant, "irrevelant." In a short time one sounds as valuable as the other.
When he makes the objection the lawyer rises and when he is through sits down. This gives the appearance of constantly jumping up but is only a question of etiquette, like taking off the hat or making a bow. Some people like the formality but there is a question how much is due to the dignity of a court and how much form and manners must be sacrificed to efficiency of business. The judge who said that he did not hear the constant objections of the lawyer because he made his objections sitting down was not so much an adherent of good form as a protestor against the absurdity of professional objections.
The mooted question is the same and goes back to the one on evidence. Shall everything be allowed in and a photographicpicture of numerous details be given to the court? If that is the correct idea, a general knowledge and atmosphere may be derived from all the surrounding circumstances and then there would be no objections. If the strict interpretation of the law be followed limiting evidence to only what is seen and heard, objections are proper and sensible.
The modern tendency is to do away with all restrictions of the past. There has been too great severity in interpreting the law of proof and the pendulum is bound to swing far in the opposite direction. A medium may not easily be reached, and the only test is the common sense of the average.
On the question of time and whether the abolishing objections and letting in all evidence would not be shorter, there is much to be said. It might take less time for the witness to recount the death-bed scene of his wife's sister's brother-in-law's aunt, than for the court to hear and pass upon all the objections and arguments as to the admission of the testimony on the red cow.
As the jury listen to the objections and exceptions they become more and more impatient. The restraining influence of the surroundings, the fact that they are impaneled in a box and that they are a part of, the drama keeps them silent. They cannot break out in revolt at the badgering of the witness. They can say nothing about the absurd objections that are interrupting the proceedings or the spiteful little exceptions that are being thrown in, but can only quietly store up an increasing mistrust of the whole method. When the lawyer objects so strenuously the jury thinks he must have something to conceal. Yet when the objections are made they have a certain effect which is not at first realized. A question is asked that is to the juryman perfectly sensible, but which is absolutely inadmissable under the rules of evidence. For example, the lawyer asks, "What did you tell your wife about the accident when you got home?" Any reasonable man knows that what he tells his wife is very important and bears on the questionof his veracity. The other lawyer very properly objects. The jury thinks there must be something in it. The lawyer asks again, "Didn't you tell your wife the horses were going very fast?" The other lawyer is on his feet. "I object," he says, "and I must ask your Honor to instruct the counsel not to ask questions that are manifestly improper." The Court rules in favor of the objecting lawyer. He admonishes the lawyer and instructs the jury to disregard the question. Yet what is the effect? The jury believes unless the lawyer thought the answer would be most unfavorable to his side he would not have objected to it so strenuously. The impression remains on the minds of the jury that there was a good deal to that question of what he told his wife.
It is for this reason that when the lawyer keeps on asking objectionable questions, the judge will sometimes declare a mistrial or allow one side to withdraw a juror, which is only a polite way of saying that the present jury in the particular case can not be fair.
Here arises one of the prettiest dilemmas of the law on the trial of a case. Suppose the case has been going on all day or for several days. The plaintiff is very anxious to have it finished. He has been at great expense and trouble to get his witness and the lawyers' time is valued at so much per trial day. On the other hand the defendant at the worst can only have a judgment against him, which may as well happen at another time. He is willing to have the case declared a mistrial and start anew; he knows it will take a long time for the trial to come up again. It has been a dull grilling proceeding, but he does not care so long as there is a chance of postponing the judgment against him. It is on the whole better and easier to put it off.
Now if the judge declares a mistrial, on the motion of the plaintiff, that is his own look out. He believes that he can not have a fair trial, that he can not proceed. But suppose the defendant by his lawyer makes the trial unfair. His lawyer keeps askingthose improper questions which imply so much to the minds of the jury. The judge may speak severely to the lawyer and caution him not to keep on putting suggestive questions. That is all that he can do. It would be plainly unfair to order the withdrawal of a juror. The trial according to the opinion of the judge may be unfair. The plaintiff's counsel is afraid to ask for a mistrial, first on account of the trouble and expense to his client, and second, if it be denied, the jury will believe he thinks them unfair and does not want them to try the case. The judge is in a curious position with regard to objectionable questions and testimony, he ought not to penalize the plaintiff by punishing the defendant. The loosening of the laws of evidence might do away with quandaries such as these.
Motions imply movement and action especially in a drama, but in a court motions are the reverse and occupy the place of dramatic pauses which delay the real movement of the play. They are of great interest to the lawyers, of some interest to the judge, because he has at once to pass upon them, of but little interest to the client, who does not understand them, and of no interest whatsoever to the jury, except when they result in the disposal of a trial.
Before the case begins the defendant makes a motion. When the plaintiff's lawyer has finished his opening, the other side makes a motion to dismiss the case. When he ends his evidence, the other lawyer moves to dismiss. When both sides are through,each moves. When the jury bring in the verdict either side may move, or both when neither is satisfied. All through the trial there are quantities of little motions. Motions to strike out, motions to instruct, motions to make the witness answer a question, motions to make the other lawyer behave. Except for pointing the finger or raising the voice in talking, they are not movements, they are only verbal, the action comes in the play of emotions of the parties in court. Motions are merely saying what either side wants; the formal asking for something.
The first important motion is on the pleadings themselves or when the plaintiff has opened. If the judge does not believe that the plaintiff has stated a case in law, he dismisses it on a motion of the defendant and the judgment is "without prejudice." The trouble is that a judgment of this kind does not finally dispose of the dispute. The plaintiff may bring the action over again.
He may appeal from the decision or judgment and the appellate court may rule thatthe trial judge was wrong and then after an interval the case goes to a new trial just the same. By this time the plaintiff or his lawyer may believe he has no case and desists, but the course depends upon whether the parties have not died, grown tired, gone into the hands of a receiver, or moved to Borneo. The jury know little as to this state of affairs and are not interested in the preliminary motions. The clients do not understand but think the lawyers are good talkers.
The lawyers are interested in the point of law and believe so strongly in their case that if an adverse ruling comes they are shocked and surprised. The judge knows that although he grant the motion to dismiss, he will probably allow an amendment. He is not greatly concerned unless he foresees a possibility of settling the dispute definitely and going on to the next case. He is anxious to try the present action and get down to the meat of the matter but really if they are going to insist on all technicalities he feels a little impatient.
He knows that even if the defendant is right and the pleadings are defective because the stenographer forgot to insert a date, it can still be put in. Recent legislation has found it necessary to say that the courts should allow amendments of pleadings where "Substantial Justice" will be accomplished thereby. It is a commentary on the system of the courts that the people through its legislatures should find it necessary to pass a law that judges should amend paper pleadings in furtherance of justice. If justice and right depend upon pieces of paper to such an extent, the dry formalism of the courts is a matter of regret.
The next important motion is when the plaintiff has put in his evidence and has rested. "The plaintiff rests," the lawyer says.
The judge and the jury say to themselves, "Well it is half over."
The defendant's lawyer rises and says, "I move to dismiss on the ground that the plaintiff has not made out a cause of action. He has not shown that the cow was ownedby the defendant, or he has not shown that the driver of the plaintiff was free from contributory negligence, or he has not made out any kind of case at all."
This is an anxious moment for the young attorney. Did he forget something? What was there that he did not remember? Will the case be dismissed because he forgot to tie a shoe lace or put in a pin? If he is more experienced in court work he will not be so worried. The law is that the plaintiff must be given every chance at this stage of the proceeding. Only when both sides are through does the law begin to weigh the evidence. At the close of the plaintiff's case everything is in his favor. Any particle of testimony is sufficient on a particular point. The theory of the law is that both sides must be heard. If the motion to dismiss is made on the ground that something has been left out, the court will usually give an opportunity to prove to whom the red cow belonged. This motion like many other relics of a by-gone age, is a matter of customand tradition. It is usually made on the theory that the judge may think there is no case and that the plaintiff can not make out a case. If he so decides, the case is finished, the jury is discharged, and the client has his feelings hurt by being thrown out of court.
From a decision of this kind there is also a right of appeal which may result in a reversal. Then the new jury is impanelled, the witnesses are recalled, and the proceedings are gone over once more. If the decision or judgment is affirmed, the case does not usually come up again; the higher court has said the plaintiff has no case on the evidence, and unless new evidence is produced he can never recover. In certain accident cases the appellate courts have stated they would not give their reasons for dismissing the complaint after the evidence is all in because, they say, if they did so they were afraid the plaintiff would supply the missing links by manufactured evidence on the next trial and not quite honestly. This again is a commentary on procedure.
Just at this point is where the law of the case comes in so insistently. Before the case comes to court the lawyer is supposed to know whether his client has a right of action. Every state of facts or a breach of those rights does not give rise to an action that can be maintained in a court of law. If you ask a man to dinner and he accepts, but does not come, you can not recover your damages for providing the dinner; or if you fall down your own well, you can not sue the man who built it. The lawyer is supposed to have carefully considered what elements of fact make an action. If the facts themselves do not give him a right of recovery his case is dismissed; or if he has a cause of action but has not proven the facts, it is also dismissed.
But as was said above, if the train of facts or those in the pleading is imperfect, the modern spirit is to allow them to be made perfect. The only theory of law that is contrary to this spirit is what is known as the theory that every man is entitled to hisday in court and the day being had it is unfair to bring the other side in again on account of some defect or forgetfulness on the part of the other.
The reconciliation is that there should be no surprises on a trial, the modern tendency is to bring the case away from the idea of an ordeal by battle. The little advantages that are gained by sorties and surprises and which are usually taken advantage of by motion, are after all not of great moment.
An anomalous situation shows the absurdity of these motions, for when the plaintiff rests, unless the defendant makes a motion to dismiss the plaintiff's case, he is supposed to admit that the plaintiff has made a goodprima faciecase, and if he does not move he is forever after, on appeal or otherwise, prevented from claiming that the plaintiff did not make out a good case. The result is that at the close of the plaintiff's case the motion is usually made as a matter of form to preserve the defendant's right.
Usually this motion is denied if there is a possibility of making a case, but suppose the judge either through ignorance or to be obliging should say, "Well, the plaintiff has made out a good case, but if you ask it, the blood be upon your own shoulders, and I will dismiss the case." The defendant does not want it dismissed but he has asked for it and he has got what he asked for. The result is an anomalous situation. The case will undoubtedly be reversed and he will be mulcted in costs for being compelled to ask, because of the formalism of the court procedure, for what he did not want.
At the end of the defendant's case, when both sides have rested, the defendant again moves to dismiss. Here again it is a formal motion, which he may not altogether mean, but which the lawyer often makes as a matter of form. If the judge really believes there is not enough evidence to let the case go to the jury, he ought to say so without the necessity of a motion. Suppose there is not, he dismisses the case "on the merits"and the trial is over. But suppose there is and the judge does not know his business and the fine point of law is not entirely clear to his Honor, and he makes a mistake and the case is dismissed. The result is that although he has granted the motion of the defendant to dismiss and given the defendant what he wanted, he has in reality penalized him, for the appellate court will reverse his decision and the defendant have to pay all costs and stand the expense of a new trial. The judge is in a quandary, which he may get out of in two ways. One is to let the weak case of the plaintiff go to the jury with the hope that they will see what a poor showing the plaintiff has made and find a verdict for the defendant, in which event he will be safe. But if the jury should make a mistake and find for the plaintiff, then the judge has the intention of setting that verdict aside, nullifying all the work of the jury, the witnesses, the clients, and the lawyers, and ordering a new trial. This is rather a weak-minded proceeding and showsthe necessity of having a man in the referee's chair who knows how to decide.
The second alternative for the judge is to reserve decision on the motion and to let the jury go into the jury-room and worry about the verdict for an hour or two, while the judge has the hidden intention of perhaps deciding that they need not spend any time at all about the matter.
The principle on which the judge passes on this motion to dismiss is, that after all the case is in and all proof had, that on the proof and evidence there is not enough on the part of the plaintiff from which any reasonable man could ever find a verdict for him. The motion differs from the one at the close of the plaintiff's case in that the latter is based on there being no proof at all, while the one after the case is entirely in is based on the theory that there is no possibility of a verdict.
This sounds again like a metaphysical discussion, but is illustrative of the futility of formal motions, so that actually thedecision depends upon the good plain common sense of the judge. The tendency is that if the case has gone to the length of a full trial and there is any question of fact involved, that the jury should determine the question of fact and exercise their functions. It must be a poor weak case of the plaintiff and evidently unsound, in which the judge or the appellate court interferes.
Throughout the trial the little motions that occur bear the same relation to the main issue as do the objections and exceptions.
"I tried to stop the car," says the motorman.
Up jumps the other lawyer. "I move to strike out as a conclusion."
The witnesses have testified to slightly different facts than what were stated in the pleadings. "I move to amend the pleadings to conform to the proof," says the lawyer.
"I move for an adjournment on the ground of surprise," says the other.
Of course the statement of the conductoris a conclusion of fact. But if the other side wants to find out how he tried to stop the car, let him ask what was done. "Did he turn on the brake handle? Did he switch on the emergency?" A man does not have to be an expert to say that the car was going fast; he may be examined as to what he considers to be fast. Nor does he have to be an expert to say that eggs are rotten, that butter is rancid, that there has been a war in Europe, that a man has a broken leg or looks sick or acts queerly, that the fish is stale or the cow was red.
The motion to strike out does not affect the jury, the testimony still remains on the jurors' minds. The verbal memory stays. Neither does the motion to amend the pleadings affect the jury. What have they got to do with it? If the papers are amended it is not important from their standpoint. Should the plaintiff have written a letter that he was going to sue for something, to the jury that seems better than any pleading.
These motions are insignificant andexamples of a formalism which, however valuable it may be as defining the methods of the legal battle, are not consistent with the modern spirit of investigation into facts. It is rather significant that the laws creating Public Service Commissions and Legislative Investigation Committees in some States go to the length of stating that there shall not be any rules of evidence such as are employed in the courts of law.
The other motions, such as to direct a verdict, which is usually the same as a motion to dismiss, and the motions after a verdict has been rendered, are also formal statements of a request for the disposition of the case.
They may be all very good and useful in their way, but are merely the incidents and measures by which the truth of the matter is reached. The client looks puzzled at the argument and the decision, the jurors have a not very clear conception of what is going on, the lawyers have a meretricious feeling that perhaps they are cheapening themselvesa little by making so many motions, yet they, nevertheless, have a legal right to do so and they must take advantage of every legal right for the protection of their clients.
After all the witnesses have been called, the plaintiff and the defendant have proved their sides, the plaintiff has contradicted the new evidence of the defendant, everybody has been examined, the interruptions of the objections and motions, exceptions have been had, the judge asks if both sides are through and the presentation of the case is ended.
The course of justice has been on a rough and rather narrow road. The popular revolt at the method of arriving at the truth is, in fact, at the narrowness of the way. The presentation of a case and the means of reaching the truth ought to be on a well-defined and orderly system. It would seem natural that the crooked and ill-paved streets of an old town should give place to the open, smooth, and broad avenues of the modern spirit.
At last when both sides rest and the judge has passed on the latest motions, the intense action of the drama begins. For this the clients have been waiting, the lawyers have been training. It is the opportunity for them to display their attainments, to show their clients what brilliant lawyers they have retained; to let the judge know how well they have understood the case; to move and sway the jury to their side; to unravel the mysteries and by the power of oratory to bring justice where she belongs. When his lawyer is talking, the client watches him with admiration, but while the opposing lawyer speaks the client can hardly conceal his contempt. He feels that his case is secure and he does not understand how there can be anything to besaid on the other side. Yet he is fearful there may be some court trick which he does not understand and the case may be lost.
"Your Honor and gentlemen of the jury," begins the defendant's lawyer. Including the judge in his address, although it is a matter of courtesy for the eloquence of the summing up, is meant solely for the jury. The judge is only supposed to listen and restrain the attorneys if they go too far afield in their attempts to influence the jury by their efforts. The judge is the time keeper or referee and holds the lawyers to the point.
The object of the attack is the jury. As the burden of proving a case is on the plaintiff, he is supposed to have the first and the last word; therefore, the defendant begins to sum up. After he is through, it is the turn of the plaintiff. The tactical position is in favor of the plaintiff. The advantage, as in all verbal disputes, is reputedly with the man who has the last word. In alldebates the proponent has the right of opening and closing. The plaintiff began the case with his opening, and after it is over he is permitted to close.
"Gentlemen," says the judge, "how long will you take in your address?" Both sides agree upon a certain time, which usually proves too short, but which is acquiesced in with alacrity because each side thinks their case is so plain and convincing that it will not be difficult to explain. The lawyer girds up his loins, the court-room quiets, the struggle of conflicting evidence is over, the clients and witnesses retire from the foreground, the other counsel sits down and the lawyer steps close to the jury-box.
"The jury is yours," says the judge, as though he were abandoning the jury. Indeed the summing up is an attack, a vivid, keen, masterly struggle in which wit and brain is pitted against wit and brain: where facts and passions are to be marshalled in the most intelligent and plausible way, where imagination and oratory are to be employedin their finest capacities. It may be bold, manly, energetic, or soft and persuasive; it may appeal to sympathy or threaten with a battery of accumulated facts. Forensic oratory is the highest type of art, the most powerful of human gifts. The only trouble with most court oratory is that it is only fit for the market-place. The lawyer begins with the firm impression that he must win the jury. His voice is bland and soothing, he feels that he must be soft and persuasive. He rubs his hands and remembering the old adage, that laugh and the world laughs with you, attempts a little joke. There is nothing so good as to get a smile for his side. Perhaps the joke does not go very well and the laugh does not come; the point has missed. He will try what flattery can do.
"Men of your intelligence can readily see," he says.
"When I was examining you," he explains in a subtle way. "I knew at once how unprejudiced and fair-minded you were."
"You gentlemen are practical men and can understand." Yet somehow the jury are impervious. They sit back in their chairs and stare.
Then the lawyer begins to forget the object of ingratiating himself. Hypnotized by the memory of his client's wrongs, he works himself into a frenzy of feeling. He swings his arms, pounds with his fist, raises his voice, and thunders his denunciation. His speech takes on a threatening tone. He shouts and bawls; the jury must be waked up. They sit stolid and unmoved. He tries to catch their eye, there is no gleam of interest. Perhaps he has rather a hopeless feeling that the art of oratory is not what it is reputed to be. The jury look particularly unresponsive. Even that one little juror, with the clever, smart face, who is leaning forward with such an expression of enjoyment may not be altogether trustworthy. The lawyer has seen that kind before and the one juror who seemed the most interested in the last case he arguedwas the very one who held out against him in the jury-room as he found afterwards. It seems a difficult matter to stir the jury and the men in the box are not at all a warm or enthusiastic audience.
The jury are not particularly keen about the oratory of the lawyer, they look upon him as paid to do his part. It is the portion of the trial they can understand; they have not clearly comprehended what went before. When the objections were being made and there were the cross-examination and badgering of witnesses, they could not separate in their minds the functions of the lawyer and the personality of the lawyer. It seemed as though he were doing a good many unfair things and not acting quite up to the mark, but now the atmosphere has cleared. They can realize that he is only the paid talker for his client, that he is only making all this noise because that is his business. To the jury he is the pleader employed as an actor. The position is simple; if any one would pay them for acting and gesticulating at somuch per day or per hour, they would be very glad to earn the money.
The client watches the lawyer with affectionate admiration. True, he did not do exactly as he was wanted during the trial. He should have asked those questions he suggested, but now he is doing grandly. When the lawyer is through the client feels splendidly. He sees but one side of the case and believes in it absolutely. With such a good talker the jury cannot fail of being convinced.
When the lawyer sits down the client shakes him by the hand and tells him how well he has done. He might have been willing to settle the case for a thousand dollars before, but now he wouldn't pay a cent, not one cent. Later, should the jury find against him, even to the amount of the thousand dollars which he was willing to pay, he feels terribly disappointed. There must have been something very much amiss in the jury-room.
The judge while the summing up is goingon, is not very attentive. His part of the case is over. While the proof was being given he was alert. True, the charge is coming afterwards, but he knows fairly well what he is going to say, and it is going to be formal. It is the function of the judge to control the address of counsel, but the counsel are sometimes very hard to control.
In the criminal trials, reference is made to the emotions of the defendant's family; the devoted, anxious wife, the poor little children who may bear the stigma of their father's disgrace, should the verdict go against him. Since the domestic life of neither party to the trial has appeared in evidence, such things being entirely "irrelevant and immaterial," it does not make a great deal of difference whether the picture is accurate or wholly fanciful. The defendant may be a drunkard, a burden to his wife, and a horror to his children; he may have abandoned his family to their own resources; it is possible that he has never had any family at all. The lawyer has no right to refer in his summingup, or otherwise, to anything that has not been properly submitted in evidence. He is guilty of unfair practice in telling the jury about the defendant's family or circumstances, unless this has been part of the case, which is improbable. He knows this well; so does his opponent and the judge. And should the opposing lawyer protest, the judge will say, looking up, "Be careful, counselor, be careful." The counselor bows respectfully and probably goes on in the same vein. The judge has not heard exactly what was said and feels that the lawyers, if they are not too blatant and noisy, may say what they please. There must not be too much talk about the wicked, money-grabbing, soulless corporation, not too much appeal for the down-trodden poor, nor an over indulgence in personalities. The lawyers must not call the other side liars and thieves too openly. That is, they may say they are untruthful, but liar is too strong. The denunciation must be a little restrained.
The judge throws out a rather mildadmonition. "The counsellor must keep to the evidence. You may not refer to matters which are not before the court." The lawyer says, "Yes, your Honor." The judge withdraws again into a contemplation of the high cost of living and his diminishing bank balance. The shouting and vociferation grow louder. The jury are long-suffering, but they cannot object. The other lawyer jumps up, and after an insistent effort makes himself heard. "The witness did not say that; you are stating something that is not so. I ask to have the stenographer read the minutes." The stenographer begins turning over the pages of his stenographic book. The exact testimony of the lady in the car is hard to find. "Heavens," think the jury, "are we going to have the whole case over again?"
The lawyer who is talking complains, "If my friend is going to keep on with his objections I shall never get through in my fifteen minutes." The stenographer has not been able to find the exact spot. It is apparentlynot in the testimony. Then the lawyer objecting says, "I ask your Honor to instruct the jury to disregard the statement of counsel." The lawyer must have a sarcastic vein of humor. Such an instruction does not seem necessary. The judge says, "I will cover that in my charge, but I must ask the counsel to be careful," and he looks warningly at the clock.
Finally the hands point to the agreed time. The judge says, "Your time is up, counselor." "Just one minute more," says the lawyer and then he goes on for three. The judge raps on his desk. The lawyer winds up his speech in a hurried peroration. "Therefore, gentlemen, with the utmost confidence in your ability as men of experience and affairs, with the sure belief in the justness of my defense, I leave the matter in your hands."
The plaintiff's lawyer now takes the floor, the jury shift their feet and glance at the clock. "Gentlemen of the jury," he begins. He probably leaves out the judge. Theplaintiff now having the attack is more direct. It is rather significant of the change in all procedure that the language of all court addresses is becoming more and more simple. The old days when the lawyers delivered homilies of Latin have disappeared. No longer does the lawyer refer tonunc pro tunc, or make facetious jokes in a language the layman and probably the court does not understand. If a lawyer makes too many Latin quotations, the court thinks him affected. He must be simple, direct, and to the point at issue.
His art in presenting his case consists in drawing the picture of the facts so vividly that they will remain in the jurors' minds. Employing his imagination in forming the concept, he gets it across the rail to the jury by the fine gift of selecting words and incidents. No one, it is said, is ever convinced by argument, but any one can realize a visualized picture of words.
The counsel starts to storm and abuse his opponents and his opponents' client, andin his wrath also forgetting that persuasion is not accomplished by denunciation. The majority of the jury are rather easy-going, kindly men, who do not care to hear others made too vile. Just as satire is more effective than direct abuse the tolerant juryman prefers to have the other party laughed at than called names.
The clients become worked up over their wrongs and excited by their lawyers' oratory. When the case is over they are extremely surprised to see the men who have been shaking their fists and ready to spring at one another's throats, quietly lock arms and go out to lunch together. It is all in the day's work and they must fortify themselves for the next trial. The shock is something like that when, after a melodrama, the heroine having jumped over the bridge and died in a whirlpool, comes out quietly and, in spite of her suffering, bows smilingly before the curtain.
The judge and the jury know that the lawyers are coming to life again and arenot really trying to kill each other. This is one of the pleasantest aspects of the life in court. There is a good fellowship between the two lawyers who have been so keenly struggling. They even have a kindly feeling toward the judge when he is off the bench.
The court attendant calls the attention of the lawyer to the time, who with a sidelong look at the clock, also "Confidently leaves the case in your hands, gentlemen."
The two lawyers sit down and the judge puts on his spectacles, gathers up the notes he has been making of the main points of the trial, and turning to the jury begins his charge.
No, madam, the charge of the judge does not mean his bill for expenses or his salary for trying the case. A charge implies something grave, heavy, and aggressive. It is what the judge tells the jury about the case. It is never light or humorous, but ponderous and hard to understand. The court-room doors are locked, no one must come in or go out during the charge.
The judge looks solemnly at the jury, the jury straighten up from the desponding attitude they gradually have assumed during the address of counsel.
The end is near and they begin to have hope. They appear interested and a gleam of awakened intelligence is in their eyes. Now at least they are going to hear whatthey wanted to know about the case. The judge will probably tell them something new and clear up the points they did not understand. It may be even he will explain why he made those strange rulings during the trial and what that mysterious conference was when he called the lawyers to his desk and they talked together for so long.
The judge begins: "Gentlemen of the jury, the plaintiff in this case seeks to recover," and then he goes on to tell them what the plaintiff wants, which is just what the plaintiff's lawyer has been telling them. The judge must have been asleep while he was talking for he is saying the same thing over again, only in a little different language. After that the defendant's case is set forth. There again that is what the defendant's lawyer was saying. It does not appear reasonable that they are compelled to hear six times what the case is about. There were the two openings of counsel at the beginning, the two summing up at the end, and now the two explanations of the judge.There ought to be an allowance made for the jury possessing a little intelligence.
The judge then tells again what the witnesses have said, in not quite so many words, but covering the main points. There is no use in that. The jurymen think they ought to remember fairly well what was said. The judge admits it after he is through by saying himself: "Gentlemen, you are to be governed by your own recollection of the testimony rather than by what is said by either side in summing up or by the Court." If he means that he should have kept still and let them have their own recollection.
Then he goes on: "If you believe any witness has wilfully testified falsely as to a material fact, you may disregard that witness's whole testimony." Of course, is that not the reason for their being there? Why, the judge in the beginning made them swear to decide the case "according to the evidence." The jury is going to do exactly that. They are going to decide which side is lying and which side is telling the truth.They are not quite so stupid as not to know that. There seems no need in insulting them by telling them that they need not believe a witness unless they want to. Why are they there?
The judge tells them that the function of the jury is to decide the facts and for him to decide the law. That is fortunate, for they could not understand the law, even if they wanted to; it is a silly business and it is not common sense. What the jury feels is that the judge's charge is leaving it to them without any trouble about the law. But wait a moment, the judge is going on to tell them about the law as applied to the particular facts before them.
The important principle of law they are being told is what is known as the preponderance of evidence and the burden of proof. The judge goes on at great length about the weight of evidence. The weight of evidence, he says, is the preponderance of proof and the preponderance of evidence is the weight of evidence, and the man who hasthe burden of proof must have the weight of evidence and the weight of evidence being the preponderance of evidence is also upon the man who has the burden of proof. And the preponderance of evidence does not mean proof beyond a reasonable doubt, as in criminal actions, but that the proof must be heavier on one side than the other and the one who has the burden of proof must sustain the preponderance of evidence. That is the law; the judge has said it. What it means the jury give up. The lawyers nod their heads wisely. The judge has stated the law correctly.
The judge may go on a little further and tell them more about the burden of proof and the preponderance of evidence. He may say that the weight of evidence does not mean the number of witnesses. The mere fact that one side has six and the other side only two does not mean that the jury are to believe the side who has six. The jury know that when probably they are all exaggerating somewhat they are going todecide the way the thing happened. Then the judge tells them, having seen the witnesses, "That they may consider their bearing on the stand and their manner of giving testimony." Surely they are going to do that. Is not the best way of knowing whether a man is telling the truth to look at him and watch him while he is talking? There is little sense in the judge advising them to consider his bearing on the stand.
Another thing the judge says is that they are not to be governed by sympathy or prejudice in arriving at their verdict. This is a caution that the judge thinks necessary. He forgets that when they are in the jury-room, with locked doors and no one to disturb them, they are going to do exactly as they are inclined. Prejudice and sympathy are for unintelligent people who do not know what they are about. Both lawyers have been telling the jury what intelligent men they were and it seems unnecessary for the judge to say that they are not to be governed by prejudice andsympathy. Suppose the defendant is a rich corporation, they are not going to find against it because it is rich. The company can stand the loss of a few dollars out of its pocket better than the poor man anyway. Not that they are going to decide for that reason.
As these accumulating evidences of the judge's misunderstanding of their attitude of mind pile up, the jury sink back into their seats. After all, the charge of the judge is not more understandable than most of the other parts of the trial. The saving point about it is that the end is drawing near and they can soon get away and have a smoke in the jury-room, and afterwards go home.
The judge, while he is charging, understands a little of what has been going on in the jury's mind. He has seen the gleam of interest which was in the jury's eyes at the beginning gradually die out. He notices how they fall into resigned attitudes. He has a glimmering that the good old legal aphorisms which he has been enunciatingwith such care about the burden of proof, the weight of evidence, the credibility of witnesses and the caution about sympathy and prejudice, are not very convincing to the jury. But the conventions require that he must go on.
"Gentlemen," he says, "I must instruct you to eliminate from your minds any discussion of counsel upon questions of law or rulings of the court upon the rejections of testimony, or decisions upon motions to dismiss or direct. They involve matters of law with which you are not at present concerned. In arriving at your verdict you are to consider only the evidence."
Perhaps the judge feels a trifle foolish and therefore he becomes more emphatic and solemn. He carefully and in a painstaking manner defines the law of negligence. He tells them the law of negligence involves two cardinal principles. "The first is that the plaintiff must establish that the defendant by its employees was guilty of negligence, that he failed to act as a prudentand careful man; second, that the plaintiff must have shown himself free from contributory negligence; that unless the jury find both of these, that the plaintiff cannot recover." Then perhaps he interjects a little more about the balance of proof as to these particulars. "If the jury find the plaintiff was negligent and the defendant was negligent, they must find a verdict for the defendant. If they find the plaintiff was not negligent and the defendant was negligent, then they may find a verdict for the plaintiff, provided they find, etc., etc. Otherwise should they find the plaintiff was not negligent and the accident happened not through the negligence of the defendant, then again must they find for the defendant, or again—" but the jury by this time is exhausted. The alternatives do not interest them. The judge may know what he is talking about, but they do not. The interesting question is how much are they going to give the plaintiff.
The judge finally becomes worn out, akind of self-hypnosis sets in. He remembers so many phrases and legal maxims that he might enunciate, his brain becomes confused as to selection. There are volumes of charges to juries which he has more or less learned by heart. There are so many glittering and vague generalities about the law of negligence, the law of contracts, the law of evidence, the burden of proof, or the weight of testimony, that he could go on indefinitely. The jury have ceased to understand and the judge realizing the hopelessness of this situation, winds up by saying—"So, gentlemen, bearing in mind what I have just told you and the evidence in the case, you will retire and consider your verdict."
The jury begin to gather their hats and coats, when up jumps one of the lawyers and says: "One moment, please. I ask your Honor to charge that if the jury find the cow that was in the plaintiff's garden was a white cow and not a red cow, then their verdict must be for the defendant." "I so charge," says the judge. "I except," saysthe other lawyer, "and I ask your Honor to charge the jury that if they believe the cow was the property of the defendant, their verdict must be for the plaintiff." "I refuse to charge in those words," says the judge, "there may not have been any cow or he may not have eaten the cabbages." Or the lawyer for the railway may ask the judge, "That if the jury find that the driver was forty feet away from the tracks and the car was a hundred feet away from the corner of Seventy-eighth Street when he first saw the car, and the car was going at a rapid rate and the conductor pulled the bell and the driver was sitting on the right-hand side of the wagon and might have seen the car had the car been one hundred feet below the corner, then in that event I ask your Honor to instruct the jury that the plaintiff was guilty of contributory negligence and cannot recover."
The question is undoubtedly a poser. The judge is evidently worried; if he make a wrong guess and says "yes" or "no" at thisjuncture, the appellate court may say: "Error, judgment reversed, new trial ordered." What happens is that the judge takes a chance. The lawyer says, "I refer you to 169 New York Court of Appeals Reports, page 492; in the case of Jonesvs.Metropolitan, the court there said that the refusal to so charge was reversible error." The judge looks wise and finally says, "yes." There is a little playing of politics in this; he has possibly been thinking how the jury are going to decide and realizing that what he charges won't make any difference, he plays safe by charging what the losing side wants.
These requests to charge may go back and forth indefinitely with rulings and exceptions. Either lawyer may except to a portion of the judge's charge, thus serving notice upon him that unless he hurry up and change it he may be reversed on appeal. That is the reason why the charge of the judge has not a great effect. He has to be too careful.
In New York State the judge can not saywhat he thinks about the case. In other words, the charge must be indefinite. In England and the Federal courts in this country, the judge may legally express his opinion as to how the case should be decided, but that is as far as he can go. The distinction is a relic of the old days of the jury system when the judges would imprison the jury until they found as was wanted. Now the judge may only express a preference and the jury may do as they please. In some courts the democratic idea of the independence of the juryman goes to the extent of not allowing the judge to say anything specific.
The result is that the jury are confused. They are usually of so independent a nature that the judge's charge would not greatly influence them. The clients sit by utterly confounded; they hear the judge wisely say, "I think perhaps yes, but on the whole it may be no," and when he is through, not understanding as much as the jury, they think the judge's charge is very fair. Having said little of import it probably is.
The continental method is so entirely different, that it is shocking. In the courts in France the judge practically says for his charge, "You've heard the evidence, now go on out and do what's right." This again illustrates the difference between the old and the new ideas of courts. The old is a battle ground where the issues are defined, the courts are kept within narrow limits and the rules of the ordeal observed strictly, and the modern, merely an investigation of a dispute with the glamor of a contest left out. It is an investigation of facts, which however bitter may be the personal animosity, should never lose sight of the main idea of arriving at the plain truth, in a common sense way.
At last the lawyers are silent, the trial is over, the judge patiently asks are there any more requests to charge, and there being no more, he turns to the jury and says, "Gentlemen, you will retire and consider your verdict." Slowly they file out, conducted by the court attendant, to the jury-room.