Less outward respect was shown toward the courts by the bar in former times than now, and it often received less courtesy of treatment from the bench. An incident occurring in Massachusetts about the beginning of the nineteenth century may serve as an illustration. Robert Treat Paine, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, resigned his seat on the bench of the Supreme Judicial Court in 1804, at the age of seventy, largely on account of deafness. Naturally somewhat imperious in temperament, his bearing toward the bar had seemed harsher from this infirmity. Fisher Ames used to refer to him as _Ursa Major_, and once told a friend that he should not go into court again, when Judge Paine held it, without a club in one hand and a speaking trumpet in the other. Theophilus Parsons, not long afterwards made Chief Justice of the State, was arguing before him one day when the judge, under the misconception into which a deaf old person so easily falls, that the younger generation all speak hurriedly and indistinctly, cried out, "Mr. Parsons, I tell you once for all, take that glove off your tongue." "Certainly, Sir," was the quick retort, "and may I beg your honor to take the wool out of your ears?"[Footnote: "Memoir of Theophilus Parsons," 214.] Some twenty years later Roger Minott Sherman, the leader of the Connecticut bar, in trying a cause before an empty-headed judge who had been put on the bench for no other apparent reason than that his father was a man of distinction, quoted several English authorities and was about to read from another when the judge remarked that he need not take the trouble to read anything more of that sort to him. "Then," said Mr. Sherman, "with your Honor's permission I will read from it to the jury, and let me say that it is an opinion of Lord Ellenborough, a Chief Justice of England who rose to the bench by his own merits, and shone by no reflected light." One of the anecdotes of the Boston bar is that while Samuel Dexter, one of the great lawyers of his day, was arguing a cause in the Circuit Court of the United States before Justice Story, soon after his accession to the bench, the court suddenly interposed, as a certain principle was asserted, with "That proposition is not law, Sir," to which Mr. Dexter retorted, "It is the law, if your Honor please, and will finally be declared to be the law by this court," as indeed it was later by Justice Story himself.[Footnote: Payne, "Reminiscences of the Rhode Island Bar," 241.] Such a passage at arms between court and counsel as took place in either of these instances could now hardly occur. Out of court there is no longer this distance between judge and lawyer. While they will not talk over an unfinished case, one that is finally disposed of is often the subject of free comment by each. They are now entirely upon the same level in the community. Officialism is put off when the court room is closed.