Italian fruit vender is summarily jailed for bringing in a few dried
mushrooms. The high financier who wrecks a railroad or a bank serves
a light prison term and emerges like a phoenix to buy new steamboat
lines or float new enterprises. But the peddler on the East Side who
sells a few dollars' worth of stale fish is punished to the limit of the law.
The facts exist and to the popular mind seem unexplainable. There
undoubtedly must be a reason, and what it is, is not hard to find. It
seems one of the mysteries of judging and of justice, as though there
were an unwritten law in the back of the human mind in favor of
property rights. There is an explanation and not an inequality of justice.
The facts are not as they are popularly stated or supposed to be. The
public gets only a portion of the picture, and from an enormous group
of cases, a few contrasted ones are picked out for the sake of the
dramatic effect. The limelight of public notice is upon them and the
softer lights and shadows are omitted. The public does not see the
gradation. On the one hand we see the rich woman, the millionaire art
dealer, the financial pirate being leniently dealt with, on the other hand
we see the little milliner, the Italian fruit vender, and the peddler
receiving harsh sentences.
The sharp contrasts make good newspaper stories that are appealing
and touching. What the public does not see is the whole picture of all
the cases of alleged inequality that come into court. These are only six
out of seven hundred cases, chosen because they are melodramatic.
There were nearly seven hundred other offenders that were let off with
suspended sentences or light fines, of whom nothing is heard, but these
three are conspicuous on account of their wealth, and the cases of the
milliner, the mushroom vender, and the peddler are reported for the
same reason--of being conspicuous. They are unusual on account of the
sentences. The harshness of their sentences is remarkable. There may
be special reasons. The six hundred and ninety-odd who are punished
lightly in the same way as the rich man are not noticed.
As a matter of actual experience, the rich man has a harder time in
court than the poor man. The inequality of justice, if there be any, is
rather against him. Because he is rich and notorious the public
prosecutor cannot let him off. If, for example, a poor man who is
undoubtedly insane, commits a murder he is not tried, but is sent to an
asylum for the insane. If, after several years, he recovers and is released,
nothing is said about it; the public does not know. But let it be a rich
lunatic and the public prosecutor is bound to bring him to trial. Public
attention demands it. He may know him to be insane, but he must still
prosecute him. The jury declare him insane. After years he is released
from the asylum, the public thinks it a miscarriage of justice, forgetting
in the meanwhile the inconspicuous poor man who unnoticed has gone
through the same experience, and been released years ago.
The delays of the law are partly due to the system of courts and partly
to the dullness of court procedure. The inefficiency of the system of
courts and judicial procedure is shown in the practical workings of the
civil courts of New York City. The antiquated organization of all the
courts is like a patchwork quilt where each additional one has been
added or increased as New York has grown from a village below the
Indian stockade at Wall Street to its present size. So that there exist
within the city limits now seven different kinds of civil courts and five
kinds of criminal courts, in nearly each of which there is a separate set
of rules, different customs, and distinct methods of procedure, and of
them all the most technical and the most complicated are often those
where they should be the most simple and easy of understanding.
Wherever the court may be the surroundings are substantially the same.
The scene is laid and the carpenters have left. The spectators have
found their places. The stage is empty however, there is a sudden bustle
and shifting of feet, a rumor has gone abroad that something is about to
happen. The court attendants take their places. One of them straightens
up and with a commanding voice cries out: "Gentlemen, please rise.
Hear ye, hear ye, all persons having business draw near and ye shall be
heard." Enter his Honor, the Judge.
III
THE JUDGE
With a rustle of his gown and a bow to the court-room the judge takes
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