Foster James Anderson - The law of the land: the evolution of our legal system

The Law of the Land

The Evolution of Our Legal System

Charles Rembar

Contents

The Blessed Man and the Arguably Admirable Tiger

PROLOGUE

There once was a man blest with an extraordinary ability to enjoy life. He was strong and skilled and healthy. His body served him well. His eyesight and hearing were excellent; all his nerve endingstactile, olfactory, gustatorywere fine-tuned. He began at a level some of us achieve only on alcohol or drugs or sea air. He loved trees, mountains, snowflakes, ocean waves, the ruddy turnstone, the scarlet tanager (especially the female, who is not scarlet), basketball, soccer (these for playing, not so much for watching), good fresh bread with good fresh butter, certain wines, certain paintings, a great variety of music, Maryland crabmeat, brisket of beef, quite a few books, and several people. He didnt care much for the Broadway theater or hominy grits, judging the potential in the one case sadly untapped and in the other somewhat limited, but he allowed that on occasion they could be interesting, even pleasurable.

This attitude toward the Broadway theater and hominy grits went to the essence of his character. He could find pleasure in things which, on the whole, he judged not good. There will ordinarily be something that is handsome, or sounds funny, or increases ones knowledge, he would say, in the most unlikely situations. He was not merely being cheery. I am no foolish optimist, he would add, when challenged. What Im saying doesnt make everything okay. Things these days are pretty rotten. But nothing is unmixed. Even where the net effect is disagreeable or downright bad, some element may yield aesthetic pleasure or laughter or enlightenment. This isnt faith or credo; its just a fact of life. One may as well be open to it. And with his health and strength and splendid sensibilities, he could practice what he preached. He had his share of misfortunes (though his share was smaller than the shares of some), but his misfortunes did not paralyze or blind him. He almost always found a tremor of delight.

One day he was walking in the jungle. He liked the jungle very much. Its dark beauty he thought special, its dangers overrated. Suddenly he spied a tiger, perhaps twenty yards away. At first the tiger, his attention fixed on something elsewhere that seemed interesting, even edible, did not see the man. The mans quick brain spun off some thoughts. The dangers of the jungle, I have maintained, are exaggerated, but they exist. In this unlucky happenstance I have encountered one of them, the worst perhaps. Here we have a lesson in the weakness of generalizationthe ultimate fallacy, from a personal point of view, of statistical analysis. The fallacy is insufficiently recognized, and if I should survive, I shall have an illustration on which to build a chapter, or at least a footnote, in my new book. The chances of getting killed on a jungle walk are less than on a motor trip. Very few people who come here suffer any harma tiny minority, really. We must keep in mind, however, that it is hard and often perilous to belong to a minority.

Just about this time the tiger turned, stirred by ideas he felt but could not quite identify. He saw the man, and the man saw that the tiger saw him. I am finished, thought the man. I am famished, thought the tiger.

I

The man did not resign, however. He reviewed the possibilities. So did the tiger. If I make a move, said the man to himself, my chances will be even less than if I stand here. I hope he doesnt try to run, said the tiger to himself; the speed of an undernourished tiger, at any distance more than twenty yards, is less than commonly believed.

The tiger made three long leaps and sprang. Magnificent, thought the man. What grace and power! How superior to human athletes, even to ballet dancers. This beast is beautiful, and I have managed to catch him at his best. How many people have been privileged to witness such a sight? Too bad, I wont be able to tell anyone about it. Too bad, more broadly, that I have to die. And probably a painful death. But theres no denying the experience.

In fact, it was not painful. The tigers aim was accurate. The mans neck broke clean. Unconsciousness and death arrived at once.

II

Thoughts fly quickly, quicker than a tigers leap. The mans thoughts were in the air as the tiger raced. He was not an insensitive tiger. And he was a tiger whose ego, in that season, badly needed shoring up. His wife had been complaining about the lack of food around the cave, refusing to concede that these were times when prey was tight. Youre supposed to be the meat-winner around here, she would remind him. And then that smirking line she was so fond of, which he never once considered funny: You call yourself a tiger.

The last time they had this kind of conversation, the tiger got so upset he lost his customary dignity. His voice rose in pitch to petulance. He almost meowed. Ive had a run of bad luck lately, the tiger said. Crap, said his wife.

Passing through space that was charged with the mans thoughts, the tiger felt their substance. He couldnt quite get the language, but the sense and mood were clear. Gee, said the tiger to himself, heres someone who really likes me. And in such trying circumstances. How fair of him. What a nice person. In that split second the tiger decided he would spare the man. He swerved, and narrowly flew by. Not many landbound creatures would be able to perform that maneuver at such a speed. It was a close thing, though, and had the tiger not simultaneously pulled in his claws, there might have been some damage. But as it was the man felt just a rush of air, and a light brush of fur. A pleasant tactile sensation, he observed.

The tiger stopped where his great leap ended, well beyond the man and off to one side. He turned and tried to smile, forgetting for the moment that cats cannot smile. But the man understood, or thought he did. He smiled, and waved his thanks, and walked away. The farther he walked, the faster he walked.

III

As the tiger, bounding forward, gathered in his targets thoughts, he had some thoughts of his own. Flattery is a deadly weapon. Even with honest, well-intentioned laudatory statements, one must be on guard. This man is perceptive, and has remarkable detachmenta most extraordinary humanand hes put me in a better mood than Ive been in for quite a while. Its a shame he has to die. For myself, I would go hungry longer. I could wait for one of those stupid antelopes, who annoy me with their speed and caution. But Ive got to think of the wife and cubs. The tiger kept his course and struck.

IV

The racing tiger reminded himself of the power and danger of flattery, but realized right away they ought to be discounted. On balance, Id prefer to see him live. Not only do I like him, but if I let him live hell talk. This is my chance for immortality, which after all is nobler than a full stomach. As for the wife, she should try to think of it as staying on a diet. As for those pampered cubs, a glimmer of how things were in the Depression will do them good.

And so the tiger swerved, and the mans fine eyes remarked the swerve, and the man survived to tell the tale. He not only told it, but he wrote it, and appeared on television to discuss it. The tiger became one of the most famous tigers that ever lived, a model of kindness and athleticism, a culture hero for a time.

V

The tiger, as he leaped, cut through all these thoughts, rolled them to either side in waves, made a wake of them. He had a duty to his family; he was very hungry himself. It would be unnatural to be diverted. He went straight for the mans throat. As the tiger made his final leap, the man moved slightly to his lefta superb move, nicely timed, just far enough, not gross. The man felt the rush of air but nothing else; the claws, stretched as far as they could go, never touched him.