argued his own cause. Wherever he appeared in person he seems to
have come off uniformly victorious. Nor were his victories won over
inferior opponents. The reputation of the lawyer is under ordinary
conditions limited necessarily to a small circle. Even in that,
considering the amount of intellectual acuteness and power displayed, it
is an exceedingly transitory reputation. But the men against whom Cooper
was pitted stood in the very front rank of their profession. They were
leaders of the bar in the greatest state in the Union. Nor have times so
far swept by that their names are not still remembered; and stories are
still told of their achievements by those who have taken their (p. 183)
places. Cooper, not a lawyer by profession, met these men on their own
ground and defeated them. It was not long, indeed, after these suits
were instituted, that it was claimed by his friends, and often conceded
by his foes, that he was the one man in the country best acquainted with
the law of libel. Our surprise at his success is increased by the fact
that he was not only unpopular himself, but he was engaged in an
unpopular cause. The verdicts he won were usually small in amount, but
they were wrung from reluctant juries, and frequently in the face of
bitter prejudices that had to be overcome before he could hope for a
fair consideration of his own side.
At the outset the editorial fraternity were disposed to take these libel
suits jocularly. They were looked upon as a gigantic joke. Nor did this
feeling die out when the first trial resulted in Cooper's favor. It was
proposed that the newspapers throughout the country should contribute
each one dollar to a fund to be called "The Effingham Libel Fund," out
of which all damages awarded the novelist were to be paid. Every
additional suit was welcomed with a shout. As time went on this
insolence gave way to apprehension. In nearly every case the plaintiff
was coming off successful. The comments of the press began to assume an
expostulatory tone. Cooper was gravely informed that were he to be tried
in the High Court of Public Opinion--this imaginary tribunal was usually
made imposing by dignifying its initial letters--for his libels upon his
country and his countrymen, the damages he would have to pay would not
only sweep away the amounts given him by the results in the regular
courts, but even the profits that had accrued from the sale of his
novels. These remonstrances were often
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