No. 57 Judge and Jury
A child is chosen to be judge, two others for jurors (or, to speak with our little informant, juries), who sit at his right and left hand.
Each child must ask the permission of the judge before taking any step. A platter is brought in, and a child, rising, asks the judge, “May I go into the middle of the room?” “May I turn the platter?” “On which side shall it fall?”
If the platter falls on the wrong side, forfeit must be paid.
Cambridge, Mass.
The nursery, we see, does not understand republicanism. The fairy tale has never got beyond the period in which the monarch orders the wicked witch to immediate execution.
In the ancient world, however, where the courts were a place of resort, and law was not a specialized profession, the case was different. Maximus of Tyre tells us that the children had their laws and tribunals; condemnation extended to the forfeiture of toys. Cato the Younger, according to Plutarch, had his detestation of tyranny first awakened by the punishment inflicted on a playmate by such a tribunal. One of the younger boys had been sentenced to imprisonment; the doom was duly carried into effect, but Cato, moved by his cries, rescued him.
In a German game there is a king, a judge, an executioner, an accuser, and a thief. The parts are assigned by drawing lots, but the accuser does not know the name of the thief, and, if he makes an error, has to undergo the penalty in his stead. The judge finally addresses the king, inquiring if his majesty approves of his decision; and the king replies, “Yes, your sentence entitles you to my favor;” or, “No, your sentence entitles you to so many blows.” Thus we see how modern child’s play respects the dignity of the king as the fountain of law.
In a Swiss sport the thief flies, and is chased over stock and stone until caught, when he is made to kneel down, his cap pushed over his brows, and his head immediately struck off with the edge of a board. So is preserved the memory of the severity of ancient criminal law.