As I listened I thought myself guilty.
--Warren Hastings.
For several days before that appointed for the trial of Roland Cashel,
the assize town was crowded with visitors from every part of the island.
Not a house, not a room was unoccupied, so intense was the interest to
witness a cause into which so many elements of exciting story entered.
His great wealth, his boundless extravagance, the singular character
of his early life, gave rise to a hundred curious anecdotes, which the
press circulated with a most unscrupulous freedom.
Nor did public curiosity stop at the walls of the prison; for every
detail of his life, since the day of his committal, was carefully
recorded by the papers. The unbroken solitude in which he lived; the
apparent calm collectedness in which he awaited his trial; his resolute
refusal to employ legal assistance; his seeming indifference to the
alleged clews to the discovery of the murder,--were commented on and
repeated till they formed the table-talk of the land.
The only person with whom he desired to communicate was Dr. Tiernay; but
the doctor had left Ireland in company with old Mr. Corrigan and Miss
Leicester, and none knew whither they had directed their steps.
Of all his former friends and acquaintances, Cashel did not appear to
remember one; nor, certainly, did they obtrude themselves in any way
upon his recollection. The public, it is true, occupied themselves
abundantly with his interests. Letters, some with signatures, the
greater number without, were addressed to him, containing advices and
counsels the strangest and most opposite, and requests, which to one in
his situation were the most inappropriate. Exhortations to confess
his crime came from some, evidently more anxious for the solution of a
mystery than the repentance of a criminal. Some suggested legal
quibbles to be used at the trial; others hinted at certain most skilful
advocates, whose services had been crowned with success in the case of
most atrocious wretches. A few asked for autographs; and one, in a neat
crowquill hand, with paper smelling strongly of musk, requested a lock
of his hair!
If by any accident Cashel opened one of these epistles, he was certain
to feel amused. It was to him, at least, a new view of life, and of
that civilization against which he now felt himself a rebel. Generally,
however, he knew nothing of them: a careless indifference, a reckless
disregard of the future, had taken complete possession of him; and the
only impatience he ever manifested was at the slow march of the time
which should elapse before the day of trial.
The day at length arrived; and even within the dreary walls of the
prison were heard the murmured accents of excitement as the great hour
drew nigh.
Mr. Goring at an early hour had visited the prisoner, to entreat him,
for the last time, to abandon his mad refusal of legal aid; explaining
forcibly that there were constantly cases occurring where innocence
could only be asserted by disentangling the ingenious tissue with which
legal astuteness can invest a circumstance. Cashel rejected this counsel
calmly but peremptorily; and when pressed home by other arguments, in a
moment of passing impatience confessed that he was “weary of life, and
would make no effort to prolong it.”
“Even so, sir,” said Goring. “There is here another question at issue.
Are you satisfied to fill the dishonored grave of a criminal? Does not
the name by which men will speak of you hereafter possess any terror for
you now?”
A slight tremor shook Cashel's voice as he replied, “Were I one who left
kindred or attached friends behind him, these considerations would have
their weight, nor would I willingly leave them the heritage of such
disgrace; but I am alone in the world, without one to blush for my
dishonor, or shed a tear over my sorrow. The calumny of my fellowmen
will only fall on ears sealed by death; nor will their jeers break the
slumber I am so soon to sleep.”
Goring labored hard to dissuade him from his resolve, but to no purpose.
The only consolation of which Roland seemed capable arose from the
dogged indifference he felt as to the result, and the consciousness of
an innocence he was too proud to assert.
From an early hour of the morning the court was crowded. Many persons
distinguished in the world of fashion were to be seen amid the gowned
and wigged throng that filled the body of the building; and in the
galleries were a vast number of ladies, whose elegance of dress told how
much they regarded the scene as one of display, as well as of exciting
interest. Some had been frequent guests at his house; others had often
received him at their own; and there they sat, in eager expectancy to
see how he would behave, to criticise his bearing, to scan his looks
through their “lorgnettes,” and note the accents in which he would
speak. A few, indeed, of his more intimate friends denied themselves the
treat such an exhibition promised; and it was plain to see how highly
they estimated their own forbearance. Still, Frobisher and some of
his set stood beneath the gallery, and watched the proceedings with
interest.
Some routine business of an uninteresting nature over, the case of the
King _versus_ Roland Cashel was called, and the governor of the jail was
ordered to produce the prisoner. A murmur of intense interest quickly
ran through the crowded assembly, and as suddenly was subdued to a dead
silence as the crowd, separating, permitted the passage of two armed
policemen, after whom Cashel walked, followed by two others. Scarcely
had he merged from the dense throng and taken his place in the dock,
when a buzz of astonishment went round; for the prisoner, instead of
being dressed decorously in black, as is customary, or at least in some
costume bespeaking care and respect, was attired in the very suit
he wore on the eventful night of the murder, the torn sleeves and
blood-stained patches attracting every eye around him. He was paler
and thinner than his wont; and if his countenance was more deeply
thoughtful, there was nothing in it that evinced anxiety, or even
expectancy. As he entered the dock, they who stood nearest to him
remarked that a slight flush stole over his face, and something that
seemed painful to his feelings appeared to work within him. A brief
effort overcame this, and he raised his eyes and carried his looks
around the court with the most perfect unconcern.
The prisoner was now arraigned, and the clerk proceeded to read over
the indictment; after which came the solemn question, “How say you,
prisoner, Guilty or Not Guilty?” Either not understanding the “quaere”
as directly addressed to himself, or conceiving it to be some formality
not requiring an answer, Cashel stood in a calm and respectful silence
for some minutes, when the judge, in a mild voice, explained the meaning
of the interrogation.
“Not Guilty, my Lord,” said Cashel, promptly; and though the words were
few, and those almost of course on such an occasion, the feeling in the
court was manifestly in concurrence with the speaker. The routine detail
of calling over the jury panel involving the privilege of “challenge,”
it became necessary to explain this to Cashel, whose ignorance of all
legal forms being now so manifest, the judge asked who was counsel for
the prisoner.
“He has not named any, my Lord.”
With patient kindness the judge turned to the dock, and counselled him,
even now, late as it was, to select some one among the learned members
of the Bar, whose guidance would materially serve his interests, and
save him from the many embarrassments his own unassisted efforts would
produce.
“I thank you, my Lord, for your consideration,” replied he, calmly, “but
if I be innocent of this crime, I stand in need of no skill to defend
me. If guilty, I do not deserve it.”
“Were guilt and innocence always easy of detection,” said the judge,
“your remark might have some show of reason; but such is rarely the
case, and once more I would entreat you to intrust your cause to some
one conversant with our forms and acquainted with our duties.”
“I am not guilty, my Lord,” replied Roland, boldly, “nor do I fear that
any artifice can make me appear such. I will not have counsel.”
The Attorney-General here in a low voice addressed the Bench, and
suggested that although the prisoner might not himself select a
defender, yet the interests of justice generally requiring that the
witnesses should be cross-examined, it would be well if the Court would
appoint some one to that duty.
The judge repeated the suggestion aloud, adding his perfect concurrence
in its nature, and inviting the learned Bar to lend a volunteer in the
cause; when a voice called out, “I will willingly accept the office, my
Lord, with your permission.”
“Very well, Mr. Clare Jones,” replied the judge; and that gentleman,
of whom we have so long lost sight, advanced to the front of the bar,
beside the dock.
Cashel, during this scene, appeared like one totally uninterested in all
that was going forward; nor did he even turn his head towards where
his self-appointed advocate was standing. As the names of the jury were
called over, Jones closely scrutinized each individual, keenly inquiring
from what part of the county he came--whether he had resided as a tenant
on the Cashel estate--and if he had, on any occasion, expressed himself
strongly on the guilt or innocence of the accused. To all these details
Roland listened with an interest the novelty suggested, but, it was
plain to see, without any particle of that feeling which his own
position might have called for. The jury were at length impanelled, and
the trial began.
Few, even among the most accomplished weavers of narrative, can equal
the skill with which a clever lawyer details the story of a criminal
trial. The orderly sequence in which the facts occur; the neat equipoise
in which matters are weighed; the rigid insistence upon some points, the
insinuated probabilities and the likelihood of others,--are all arranged
and combined with a masterly power that more discursive fancies would
fail in.
Events and incidents that to common intelligence appear to have no
bearing on the case, arise, like unexpected witnesses, at intervals, to
corroborate this, or to insinuate that. Time, place, distance, locality,
the laws of light and sound, the phenomena of science, are all invoked,
not with the abstruse pedantry of a bookworm, but with the ready-witted
acuteness of one who has studied mankind in the party-colored page of
real life.
To any one unaccustomed to these efforts, the effect produced is almost
miraculous: conviction steals in from so many sources, that the mind,
like a city assaulted on every side, is captured almost at once. All the
force of cause and effect is often imparted to matters which are merely
consecutive; and it requires patient consideration to disembarrass
a case of much that is merely insinuated, and more that is actually
speculative.
In the present instance everything was circumstantial; but so much the
more did it impress all who listened, even to him who, leaning on the
rails of the dock, now heard with wonderment how terribly consistent
were all the events which seemed to point him out as guilty.
After a brief exordium, in which he professed his deep sorrow at the
duty which had devolved on him, and his ardent desire to suffer nothing
to escape him with reference to the prisoner save what the interests
of truth and justice imperatively might call for, the Attorney-General
entered upon a narrative of the last day of Mr. Kennyfeck's life;
detailing with minute precision his departure from Tubbermore
at an early hour in Mr. Cashel's company, and stating how something
bordering upon altercation between them was overheard by the bystanders
as they drove away. “The words themselves, few and unimportant as they
might seem,” added he, “under common circumstances, come before us with
a terrible significance when remembered in connection with the horrible
event that followed.” He then traced their course to Drumcoologan, where
differences of opinion, trivial, some might call them, but of importance
to call for weighty consideration here, repeatedly occurred respecting
the tenantry and the management of the estate. These would all be proved
by competent witnesses, he alleged; and he desired the jury to bear
in mind that such testimony should be taken as that of men much more
disposed to think and speak well of Mr. Cashel, whose very spendthrift
tastes had the character of virtues in the peasants eyes, in contrast
with the careful and more scrupulous discretion practised by “the
agent.”
“You will be told, gentlemen of the jury,” continued he, “how, after
a day spent in continued differences of opinion, they separated at
evening,--one to return to Tubbermore by the road; the other, by the
less travelled path that led over the mountains. And here it is worthy
of remark that Mr. Cashel, although ignorant of the way, a stranger,
for the first time in his life in the district, positively refuses all
offers of accompaniment, and will not even take a guide to show him the
road. Mr. Kennyfeck continues for some time to transact business with
the tenantry, and leaves Drumcoologan, at last, just as night was
closing in. Now, about halfway between the manor-house of Tubbermore and
the village of Drumcoologan, the road has been so much injured by the
passage of a mountain-torrent, that when the travellers passed in the
morning they found themselves obliged to descend from the carriage and
proceed for some distance on foot,--a precaution that Mr. Kennyfeck was
compelled also to take on his return, ordering the servant to wait for
him on the crest of the hill. That spot he was never destined to reach!
The groom waited long and anxiously for his coming; he could not leave
his horses to go back and find out the reasons of his delay,--he
was alone. The distance to Tubbermore was too great to permit of his
proceeding thither to give the alarm; he waited, therefore, with
that anxiety which the sad condition of our country is but too often
calculated to inspire even among the most courageous, when, at last,
footsteps were heard approaching, he called out aloud his master's name,
but, instead of hearing the well-known voice in answer, he was accosted
in Irish by an old man, who told him, in the forcible accents of his
native tongue, 'that a murdered man was lying on the roadside.' The
groom at once hurried back, and at the foot of the ascent discovered the
lifeless but still warm body of his master; a bullet-wound was found
in the back of the skull, and the marks of some severe blows across the
face. On investigating further, at a little distance off, a pistol was
picked up from a small drain, where it seemed to have been thrown in
haste; the bore corresponded exactly with the bullet taken from the
body; but more important still, this pistol appears to be the fellow
of another belonging to Mr. Cashel, and will be identified by a
competent witness as having been his property.
“An interval now occurs, in which a cloud of mystery intervenes; and
we are unable to follow the steps of the prisoner, of whom nothing is
known, till, on the alarm of the murder reaching Tubbermore, a rumor
runs that footsteps have been heard in Mr. Cashel's apartment, the key
of which the owner had taken with him. The report gains currency rapidly
that it is Mr. Cashel himself; and although the servants aver that he
never could have traversed the hall and the staircase unseen by some of
them, a new discovery appears to explain the fact. It is this. The ivy
which grew on the wall of the house, and which reached to the window
of Mr. Cashel's dressing-room, is found torn down, and indicating the
passage of some one by its branches. On the discovery of this most
important circumstance, the Chief Justice, accompanied by several other
gentlemen, proceeded in a body to the chamber, and demanded admittance.
From them you will hear in detail what took place,--the disorder in
which they found the apartment; heaps of papers littered the floor;
letters lay in charred masses upon the hearth; the glass of the window
was broken, and the marks of feet upon the window-sill and the floor
showed that some one had entered by that means. Lastly--and to this fact
you will give your utmost attention--the prisoner himself is found with
his clothes torn in several places; marks of blood are seen upon
them, and his wrist shows a recent wound, from which the blood flows
profusely. Although cautioned by the wise foresight of the learned judge
against any rash attempt at explanation, or any inadvertent admission
which might act to his prejudice hire-after, he bursts forth into a
violent invective upon the murderer, and suggests that they should
mount their horses at once, and scour the country in search of him. This
counsel being, for obvious reasons, rejected, and his plan of escape
frustrated, he falls into a moody despondency and will not speak.
Shrouding himself in an affected misanthropy, he pretends to believe
that he is the victim of some deep-planned treachery,--that all these
circumstances, whose detail I have given you, have been the deliberate
schemes of his enemies. It is difficult to accept of this explanation,
gentlemen of the jury; and, although I would be far from diminishing
in the slightest the grounds of any valid defence a man so situated may
take up, I would caution you against any rash credulity of vague and
unsupported assertions; or, at least, to weigh them well against the
statements of truth-telling witnesses. The prisoner is bound to lay
before you a narrative of that day, from the hour of his leaving home to
that of his return, to explain why he separated from his companion, and
came back alone by a path he had never travelled before, and at night;
with what object he entered his own house by the window,--a feat
of considerable difficulty and of some danger. His disordered and
blood-stained dress; his wounded hand; the missing pistol; the agitation
of his manner when discovered amid the charred and torn remains of
letters,--all these have to be accounted for. And remember at what
moment they occurred! When his house was the scene of festivity and
rejoicing; when above a thousand guests were abandoning themselves to
the unbridled enjoyment of pleasure,--this is the time the host takes
to arrange papers, to destroy letters, to make, in fact, those hurried
arrangements that men are driven to on the eve of either flight or some
desperate undertaking. Bear all this in mind, gentlemen: and remember
that, to explain these circumstances, the narrative of the prisoner
must be full, coherent, and consistent in all its parts. The courts
of justice admit of neither reservations nor mysteries. We are here to
investigate the truth, whose cause admits of no compromise.”
The witnesses for the prosecution were now called over and sworn.
The first examined were some of the servants who had overheard the
conversation between Cashel and Kennyfeck on the morning of leaving
Tubbermore. They differed slightly as to the exact expressions used,
but agreed perfectly as to their general import,--a fact which even the
cross-examination of Mr. Jones only served to strengthen. Some peasants
of Drumcoologan were next examined, to show that during the day slight
differences were constantly occurring between the parties, and that
Cashel had more than once made use of the expression, “Have your own way
_now_, but ere long I'll take mine;” or words very similar.
The old man who discovered the body, and the postilion, were then
questioned as to all the details of the place, the hour, and the fact;
and then Tom Keane was called for. It was by him the pistol was picked
up from the drain. The air of reluctance with which the witness ascended
the table, and the look of affectionate interest he bestowed upon the
dock were remarked by the whole assemblage. If the countenance of the
man evinced little of frankness or candor, the stealthy glance he threw
around him as he took his seat showed that he was not deficient in
cunning.
As his examination proceeded, the dogged reluctance of his answers,
the rugged bluntness by which he avoided any clear explanation of his
meaning, were severely commented on by the Attorney-General, and even
called forth the dignified censure of the Bench; so that the impression
produced by his evidence was, that he was endeavoring throughout to
screen his landlord from the imputation of a well-merited guilt.
The cross-examination now opened, but without in any way serving to
shake the material character of the testimony, at the same time that it
placed in a still stronger light the attachment of the witness to the
prisoner. Cashel, hitherto inattentive and indifferent to all that was
going forward, became deeply interested as this examination proceeded;
his features, apathetic and heavy before, grew animated and eager, and
he leaned forward to hear the witness with every sign of anxiety.
The spectators who thronged the court attributed the prisoner's
eagerness to the important nature of the testimony, and the close
reference it bore to the manner of the crime; they little knew the
simple truth, that it was the semblance of affection for him,--the
pretended interest in his fate,--which touched his lonely heart, and
kindled there a love of life.
“That poor peasant, then,” said Roland to himself, “he, at least, deems
me guiltless. I did not think that there lived one who cared as much for
me!”
[Illustration: 338]
With the apparent intention of showing to the Court and jury that Keane
was not biassed towards his former master, Mr. Jones addressed several
questions to him; but instead of eliciting the fact, they called forth
from the witness a burst of gratitude and love for him that actually
shook the building by the applause it excited, and called for the
interference of the Bench to repress.
“You may go down, sir,” said Jones, with the fretful impatience of a man
worsted in a controversy; and the witness descended from the table amid
the scarcely suppressed plaudits of the crowd. As he passed the dock,
Cashel leaned forward and extended his hand towards him. The fellow drew
back, and they who were next him perceived that a sallow sickly color
spread itself over his face, and that his lips became bloodless.
“Give me your hand, man!” said Cashel.
“Oh, Mr. Cashel! oh, sir!” said he, with that whining affectation of
modesty the peasant can so easily assume.
“Give me your hand, I say,” said Cashel, firmly. “Its honest grasp will
make me think better of the world than I have done for many a day.”
The fellow made the effort, but with such signs of inward terror and
trepidation that he seemed like one ready to faint; and when his cold,
nerveless hand quitted Cashel's, it fell powerless to his side. He moved
now quickly forward, and was soon lost to sight in the dense throng.
The next witnesses examined were the group who, headed by the Chief
Justice, had entered Cashel's room. If they all spoke guardedly,
and with great reserve, as to the manner of the prisoner, and the
construction they would feel disposed to put upon the mode in which he
received them, they agreed as to every detail and every word spoken with
an accuracy that profoundly impressed the jury.
The magistrate, Mr. Goring, as having taken the most active part in the
proceedings, was subjected to a long and searching cross-examination
by Jones, who appeared to imply that some private source of dislike to
Cashel had been the animating cause of his zeal in this instance.
Although not a single fact arose to give a shade of color to this
suspicion, the lawyer clung to it with the peculiar pertinacity
that often establishes by persistence when it fails in proof; and so
pointedly and directly at last, that the learned judge felt bound to
interfere, and observe, that nothing in the testimony of the respected
witness could lay any ground for the insinuation thrown out by the
counsel.
Upon this there ensued one of those sharp altercations between Bench and
Bar which seem the “complement” of every eventful trial in Ireland;
and which, after a brief contest, usually leave both the combatants
excessively in the wrong.
The present case was no exception to this rule. The Judge was heated and
imperious; the counsel flippant in all the insolence of mock respect,
and ended by the stereotyped panegyric on the “glorious sanctity that
invests the counsel of a defence in a criminal action--the inviolability
of a pledge which no member of the Bar could suffer to be sullied in his
person”--and a great many similar fine things, which, if not “briefed”
by the attorney, are generally paid for by the client! The scrimmage
ended, as it ever does, by a salute of honor; in which each, while
averring that he was incontestably right, bore testimony to the
conscientious scruples and delicate motives of the other; and at last
they bethought them of the business for which they were there, and of
him whose fate for life or death was on the issue. The examination of
Mr. Goring was renewed.
“You have told us, sir,” said Jones, “that immediately after the
terrible tidings had reached Tubbermore of Mr. Kennyfeck's death,
suspicion seemed at once to turn on Mr. Cashel. Will you explain this,
or at least let us hear how you can account for a circumstance so
strange?”
“I did not say as much as you have inferred,” replied Goring. “I merely
observed that Mr. Cashel's name became most singularly mixed up with the
event, and rumors of a difference between him and his agent were buzzed
about.”
“Might not this mention of Mr. Cashel's name have proceeded from an
anxious feeling on the part of his friends to know of his safety?”
“It might.”
“Are you not certain that it was so?”
“In one instance, certainly. I remember that a gentleman at once drew
our attention to the necessity of seeing after him.”
“Who was this gentleman?”
“Mr. Linton,--a near and intimate friend of Mr. Cashel.”
“And he suggested that it would be proper to take steps for Mr. Cashers
safety?”
“He did so.”
“Was anything done in consequence of that advice?”
“Nothing, I believe. The state of confusion that prevailed; the
terror that pervaded every side, the dreadful scenes enacting around
us,--prevented our following up the matter with all the foresight which
might be desired.”
“And, in fact, you sought relief from the unsettled distraction of
your thoughts, by fixing the crime upon some one--even though he should
prove, of all assembled there, the least likely.”
“We did not attach anything to Mr. Cashel's disfavor until we discovered
that he was in his dressing-room, and in the manner already stated.”
“But you certainly jumped to your conclusion by a sudden bound?”
“It would be fairer to say that our thoughts converged to the same
impression at the same time.”
“Where is this Mr. Linton? Is he among the list of your witnesses, Mr.
Attorney?”
“No, we have not called him.”
“I thought as much!” said Jones, sneeringly; “and yet the omission
is singular, of one whose name is so frequently mixed up in these
proceedings. He might prove an inconvenient witness.”
A slight murmur here ran through the court; and a gentleman, advancing
to the bar, whispered some words to the Attorney-General, who, rising,
said:--
“My Lord, I am just this instant informed that Mr. Linton is dangerously
ill of fever at his house near Dublin. My informant adds, that no hopes
are entertained of his recovery.”
“Was he indisposed at the period in which my learned friend drew up this
case? or was there any intention of summoning him here for examination?”
asked Jones.
“We did not require Mr. Linton's testimony,” replied the
Attorney-General.
“It can scarcely be inferred that we feared it,” said a junior
barrister, “since the first palpable evidences that implicated the
prisoner were discovered by Mr. Linton: the wadding of the pistol;
part of a letter in Mr. Cashel's own handwriting; and the tracks
corresponding with his boots.”
“This is all most irregular, my Lord,” broke in Jones, eagerly. “Here
are statements thrown out in all the loose carelessness of conversation,
totally unsupported by evidence. I submit that it is impossible to offer
a defence to a cause conducted in this manner.”
“You are quite right, Mr. Jones; this is not evidence.”
“But this is, my Lord!” said the Attorney-General, in a heated manner;
“and for motives of delicacy we might not have used it, if not driven
to this course by the insinuations of counsel. Here is a note in pencil,
dated from the 'Pass of Ennismore,' and running thus: 'It looks badly;
but I fear you have no other course than to arrest him. In fact, it is
too late for anything else. Consult Malone and Meek.' And this can be
proved to be in Mr. Linton's handwriting.”
Mr. Clare Jones did not speak a word as the note was handed up to the
Bench, and then to the jury-box; he even affected to think it of no
importance, and did not deign to examine it for himself.
“You may go down, Mr. Goring,” said he, after a slight pause, in which
he appeared deliberating what course to follow.
Making his way to the side of the dock, Jones addressed himself to
Cashel in a low, cautious voice:--
“It now remains with you, Mr. Cashel, to decide whether you will intrust
me with the facts on which you ground your innocence, or prefer to see
yourself overwhelmed by adverse testimony.”
Cashel made no reply, but leaned his head on his hand in deep thought
“Have you any witnesses to call?” whispered Jones. “Shall we try an
_alibi?_”
Cashel did not answer.
“What is your defence, sir, in one word?” asked Jones, shortly.
“I am not guilty,” said Cashel, slowly; “but I do not expect others to
believe me so.”
“Is your defence to rest upon that bare assertion?” asked the lawyer;
but Roland did not seem to heed the question, as, folding his arms, he
stood erect in the dock, his attention to all appearance bestowed upon
the ceremonial of the court.
Jones, at once turning to the Bench, expressed his regret that, neither
being able, from the shortness of the time, to obtain proper information
on the case, nor being honored by the confidence of the accused, he must
decline the task of commenting on the evidence; and would only
entreat the jury to weigh the testimony they had heard with a merciful
disposition, and wherever discrepancies and doubts occurred, to give the
full benefit of such to the prisoner.
“You have no witnesses to call?” asked the judge.
“I am told there are none, my Lord,” said Jones, with an accent of
resignation.
A brief colloquy, in a low voice, ensued between the Crown lawyers and
Clare Jones, when, at length, a well-known barrister rose to address the
jury for the prosecution. The gentleman who now claimed the attention
of the Court was one who, not possessing either the patient habits of
study, or that minute attention to technical detail which constitute the
legal mind, was a fluent, easy speaker, with an excellent memory, and a
thorough knowledge of the stamp and temperament of the men that usually
fill a jury-box. He was eminently popular with that class, on whom he
had often bestowed all the flatteries of his craft; assuring them that
their “order” was the bone and sinew of the land, and that “our proudest
boast as a nation was in the untitled nobility of commerce.”
His whole address on the present occasion tended to show that the murder
of Mr. Kennyfeck was one among the many instances of the unbridled
license and tyranny assumed by the aristocracy over the middle ranks.
Mr. Kennyfeck was no bad subject for such eulogium as he desired to
bestow. He was the father of a family; a well-known citizen of Dublin; a
grave, white-cravated, pompous man of respectable exterior, always seen
at vestries, and usually heading the lists of public charities.
Cashel was the very antithesis to all this: the reckless squanderer of
accidentally acquired wealth; the wayward and spoiled child of fortune,
with the tastes of a buccaneer and the means of a prince, suddenly
thrown into the world of fashion. What a terrible ordeal to a mind so
untrained--to a temper so unbridled! and how fearfully had it told
upon him! After commenting upon the evidence, and showing in what a
continuous chain each event was linked with the other,--how consistent
were all,--how easily explicable every circumstance, he remarked that
the whole case had but one solitary difficulty; and although that was
one which weighed more in a moral than a legal sense, it required that
he should dwell a few moments upon it.
“The criminal law of our land, gentlemen of the jury, is satisfied with
the facts which establish guilt or innocence, without requiring that
the motives of accused parties should be too closely scrutinized. Crime
consists, of course, of the spirit in which a guilty action is done;
but the law wisely infers that a guilty act is the evidence of a guilty
spirit; and therefore, although there may be circumstances to extenuate
the criminality of an act, the offence before the law is the same; and
the fact, the great fact, that a man has killed his fellow-man, is what
constitutes murder.
“I have said that this case has but one difficulty; and that is, the
possible motive which could have led to the fatal act Now, this would
present itself as a considerable obstacle if the relations between the
parties were such as we happily witness them in every county of this
island, where the proprietor and his agent are persons linked, by the
sacred obligation of duty, and the frequent intercourse of social life,
into the closest friendship.
“That blood should stain the bonds of such brotherhood would be scarcely
credible--and even when credible, inexplicable; it would be repugnant
to all our senses to conceive an act so unnatural. But was the present a
similar case? or rather, was it one exactly the opposite? You have heard
that repeated differences occurred between the parties, amounting even
to altercations. Mr. Hoare's evidence has shown you that Mr. Cashel's
extravagance had placed him in difficulties of no common kind; his
demands for money were incessant, and the utter disregard of the cost
of obtaining it is almost beyond belief. The exigence on one side,
the manly resistance on the other, must have led to constant
misunderstanding. But these were not the only circumstances that
contributed to a feeling of estrangement, soon to become something still
more perilous. And here I pause to ask myself how far I am warranted
in disclosing facts of a private nature, although in their bearing they
have an important relation to the case before us! It is a question of
great delicacy; and were it not that the eternal interests of truth and
justice transcend all others, I might shrink from the performance of
a task which, considered in a merely personal point of view, is deeply
distressing. But it is not of one so humble as myself of whom there is
a question here: the issue is, whether a man's blood should be spilled,
and no expiation be made for it?”
The counsel after this entered into a discursive kind of narrative of
Cashel's intimacy with the Kennyfeck family, with whom he had been for a
time domesticated; and after a mass of plausible generalities, wound
up by an imputed charge that he had won the affections of the younger
daughter, who, with the consent of her parents, was to become his wife.
“It will not seem strange to you, gentlemen,” said he, “that I have
not called to that table as a witness either the widow or the orphan to
prove these facts, or that I have not subjected their sacred sorrows to
the rude assaults of a cross-examination. You will not think the worse
of me for this reserve, nor shall I ask of you to give my statements the
value of sworn evidence; you will hear them, and decide what value they
possess in leading you to a true understanding of this case.
“I have said, that if a regular pledge and promise of marriage did not
bind the parties, something which is considered equivalent among persons
of honor did exist, and that by their mutual acquaintances they were
regarded as contracted to each other. Mr. Cashel made her splendid and
expensive presents, which had never been accepted save for the relations
between them; he distinguished her on all occasions by exclusive
attention, and among his friends he spoke of his approaching marriage
as a matter fixed and determined on. In this state of things a discovery
took place, which at once served to display the character of the young
gentleman, and to rescue the family from one of the very deepest,
because one of the most irremediable, of all calamities. Information
reached them, accompanied by such circumstances as left no doubt of its
veracity, that this Mr. Cashel had been married already, and that
his wife, a young Spanish lady, was still living, and residing at the
Havannah.
“I leave you to imagine the misery which this sad announcement produced
in that circle, where, until he entered it, happiness had never been
disturbed. It is not necessary that I should dwell upon the distress
this cruel treachery produced: with its consequences alone we have any
concern here; and these were a gradual estrangement,--a refusal, calm
but firm, to receive Mr. Cashel as before; an intimation that they knew
of circumstances which, from delicacy to him, they would never advert to
openly, but which must at once bar all the contemplated relations: and
to this sad, humiliating alternative he submitted!
“To avoid the slanderous stories which gossip would be certain to put
in circulation, they did not decline the invitation they had before
accepted to visit Tubbermore; they came, however, under the express
stipulation that no close intimacy was ever to be resumed between Mr.
Cashel and themselves; he was not even to use the common privilege of a
host,--to visit them in their own apartments. That this degree of cold
distance was maintained between them, on every occasion, all the guests
assembled at the house can testify; and he neither joined the party in
carriage nor on horseback. Perhaps this interdiction was carried out
with too rigid a discipline; perhaps the cold reserve they maintained
had assumed a character of insult, to one whose blood still glowed with
the fire of southern associations; perhaps some circumstance with which
we are unacquainted contributed to render this estrangement significant,
and consequently painful to a man who could not brook the semblance of a
check. It is needless to ask how or whence originating, since we can see
in the fact itself cause sufficient for indignant reproof on one side,
for a wounded self-love and tarnished honor on the other.
“Are we at a loss for such motives, then, in the presence of facts like
these? Ask yourselves, Is a man, bred and trained up in all the riotous
freedom of a service scarcely above the rank of piracy,--accustomed
to the lawless license of a land where each makes the law with his own
right hand,--is such a man one to bear a slight with patient submission,
or to submit to an open shame in tame obedience? Can you not easily
imagine how all the petty differences of opinion they might have had
were merely skirmishes in front of that line where deeper and graver
feelings stood in battle array? Can you suppose that, however ruled over
by the ordinary courtesies of life, this youth nourished his plans of
ultimate revenge, not only upon those who refused with indignation his
traitorous alliance, but who were the depository of a secret that must
interdict all views of marriage in any other quarter?”