MR. CHAFFANBRASS FOR THE DEFENCE.
The case for the prosecution was completed on the Saturday evening,
Mrs. Bunce having been examined as the last witness on that side.
She was only called upon to say that her lodger had been in the
habit of letting himself in and out of her house at all hours with
a latch-key;--but she insisted on saying more, and told the judge
and the jury and the barristers that if they thought that Mr. Finn
had murdered anybody they didn't know anything about the world in
general. Whereupon Mr. Chaffanbrass said that he would like to ask
her a question or two, and with consummate flattery extracted from
her her opinion of her lodger. She had known him for years, and
thought that, of all the gentlemen that ever were born, he was the
least likely to do such a bloody-minded action. Mr. Chaffanbrass was,
perhaps, right in thinking that her evidence might be as serviceable
as that of the lords and countesses.
During the Sunday the trial was, as a matter of course, the talk
of the town. Poor Lord Fawn shut himself up, and was seen by no
one;--but his conduct and evidence were discussed everywhere. At
the clubs it was thought that he had escaped as well as could be
expected; but he himself felt that he had been disgraced for ever.
There was a very common opinion that Mr. Chaffanbrass had admitted
too much when he had declared that the man whom Lord Fawn had seen
was doubtless the murderer. To the minds of men generally it seemed
to be less evident that the man so seen should have done the deed,
than that Phineas Finn should have been that man. Was it probable
that there should be two men going about in grey coats, in exactly
the same vicinity, and at exactly the same hour of the night? And
then the evidence which Lord Fawn had given before the magistrates
was to the world at large at any rate as convincing as that given in
the Court. The jury would, of course, be instructed to regard only
the latter; whereas the general public would naturally be guided by
the two combined. At the club it was certainly believed that the case
was going against the prisoner.
"You have read it all, of course," said the Duchess of Omnium to her
husband, as she sat with the Observer in her hand on that Sunday
morning. The Sunday papers were full of the report, and were enjoying
a very extended circulation.
"I wish you would not think so much about it," said the Duke.
"That's very easily said, but how is one to help thinking about it?
Of course I am thinking about it. You know all about the coat. It
belonged to the man where Mealyus was lodging."
"I will not talk about the coat, Glencora. If Mr. Finn did commit the
murder it is right that he should be convicted."
"But if he didn't?"
"It would be doubly right that he should be acquitted. But the jury
will have means of arriving at a conclusion without prejudice, which
you and I cannot have; and therefore we should be prepared to take
their verdict as correct."
"If they find him guilty, their verdict will be damnable and false,"
said the Duchess. Whereupon the Duke turned away in anger, and
resolved that he would say nothing more about the trial,--which
resolution, however, he was compelled to break before the trial was
over.
"What do you think about it, Mr. Erle?" asked the other Duke.
"I don't know what to think;--I only hope."
"That he may be acquitted?"
"Of course."
"Whether guilty or innocent?"
"Well;--yes. But if he is acquitted I shall believe him to have been
innocent. Your Grace thinks--?"
"I am as unwilling to think as you are, Mr. Erle." It was thus that
people spoke of it. With the exception of some very few, all those
who had known Phineas were anxious for an acquittal, though they
could not bring themselves to believe that an innocent man had been
put in peril of his life.
On the Monday morning the trial was recommenced, and the whole day
was taken up by the address which Mr. Chaffanbrass made to the jury.
He began by telling them the history of the coat which lay before
them, promising to prove by evidence all the details which he stated.
It was not his intention, he said, to accuse any one of the murder.
It was his business to defend the prisoner, not to accuse others.
But, as he should prove to them, two persons had been arrested as
soon as the murder had been discovered,--two persons totally unknown
to each other, and who were never for a moment supposed to have acted
together,--and the suspicion of the police had in the first instance
pointed, not to his client, but to the other man. That other man
had also quarrelled with Mr. Bonteen, and that other man was now in
custody on a charge of bigamy chiefly through the instrumentality of
Mr. Bonteen, who had been the friend of the victim of the supposed
bigamist. With the accusation of bigamy they would have nothing to
do, but he must ask them to take cognisance of that quarrel as well
as of the quarrel at the club. He then named that formerly popular
preacher, the Rev. Mr. Emilius, and explained that he would prove
that this man, who had incurred the suspicion of the police in
the first instance, had during the night of the murder been so
circumstanced as to have been able to use the coat produced. He would
prove also that Mr. Emilius was of precisely the same height as the
man whom they had seen wearing the coat. God forbid that he should
bring an accusation of murder against a man on such slight testimony.
But if the evidence, as grounded on the coat, was slight against
Emilius, how could it prevail at all against his client? The two
coats were as different as chalk from cheese, the one being what
would be called a gentleman's fashionable walking coat, and the other
the wrap-rascal of such a fellow as was Mr. Meager. And yet Lord
Fawn, who attempted to identify the prisoner only by his coat, could
give them no opinion as to which was the coat he had seen! But Lord
Fawn, who had found himself to be debarred by his conscience from
repeating the opinion he had given before the magistrate as to the
identity of Phineas Finn with the man he had seen, did tell them that
the figure of that man was similar to the figure of him who had worn
the coat on Saturday in presence of them all. This man in the street
had therefore been like Mr. Emilius, and could not in the least
have resembled the prisoner. Mr. Chaffanbrass would not tell the
jury that this point bore strongly against Mr. Emilius, but he took
upon himself to assert that it was quite sufficient to snap asunder
the thin thread of circumstantial evidence by which his client was
connected with the murder. A great deal more was said about Lord
Fawn, which was not complimentary to that nobleman. "His lordship is
an honest, slow man, who has doubtless meant to tell you the truth,
but who does not understand the meaning of what he himself says. When
he swore before the magistrate that he thought he could identify my
client with the man in the street, he really meant that he thought
that there must be identity, because he believed from other reasons
that Mr. Finn was the man in the street. Mr. Bonteen had been
murdered;--according to Lord Fawn's thinking had probably been
murdered by Mr. Finn. And it was also probable to him that Mr.
Bonteen had been murdered by the man in the street. He came thus to
the conclusion that the prisoner was the man in the street. In fact,
as far as the process of identifying is concerned, his lordship's
evidence is altogether in favour of the prisoner. The figure seen by
him we must suppose was the figure of a short man, and not of one
tall and commanding in his presence, as is that of the prisoner."
There were many other points on which Mr. Chaffanbrass insisted at
great length;--but, chiefly, perhaps, on the improbability, he might
say impossibility, that the plot for a murder so contrived should
have entered into a man's head, have been completed and executed, all
within a few minutes. "But under no hypothesis compatible with the
allegations of the prosecution can it be conceived that the murder
should have been contemplated by my client before the quarrel at the
club. No, gentlemen;--the murderer had been at his work for days. He
had examined the spot and measured the distances. He had dogged the
steps of his victim on previous nights. In the shade of some dark
doorway he had watched him from his club, and had hurried by his
secret path to the spot which he had appointed for the deed. Can any
man doubt that the murder has thus been committed, let who will have
been the murderer? But, if so, then my client could not have done
the deed." Much had been made of the words spoken at the club door.
Was it probable,--was it possible,--that a man intending to commit
a murder should declare how easily he could do it, and display the
weapon he intended to use? The evidence given as to that part of the
night's work was, he contended, altogether in the prisoner's favour.
Then he spoke of the life-preserver, and gave a rather long account
of the manner in which Phineas Finn had once taken two garotters
prisoner in the street. All this lasted till the great men on the
bench trooped out to lunch. And then Mr. Chaffanbrass, who had been
speaking for nearly four hours, retired to a small room and there
drank a pint of port wine. While he was doing so, Mr. Serjeant
Birdbolt spoke a word to him, but he only shook his head and snarled.
He was telling himself at the moment how quick may be the resolves
of the eager mind,--for he was convinced that the idea of attacking
Mr. Bonteen had occurred to Phineas Finn after he had displayed the
life-preserver at the club door; and he was telling himself also
how impossible it is for a dull conscientious man to give accurate
evidence as to what he had himself seen,--for he was convinced that
Lord Fawn had seen Phineas Finn in the street. But to no human being
had he expressed this opinion; nor would he express it,--unless his
client should be hung.
After lunch he occupied nearly three hours in giving to the jury,
and of course to the whole assembled Court, the details of about two
dozen cases, in which apparently strong circumstantial evidence had
been wrong in its tendency. In some of the cases quoted, the persons
tried had been acquitted; in some, convicted and afterwards pardoned;
in one pardoned after many years of punishment;--and in one the poor
victim had been hung. On this he insisted with a pathetic eloquence
which certainly would not have been expected from his appearance, and
spoke with tears in his eyes,--real unaffected tears,--of the misery
of those wretched jurymen who, in the performance of their duty,
had been led into so frightful an error. Through the whole of this
long recital he seemed to feel no fatigue, and when he had done with
his list of judicial mistakes about five o'clock in the afternoon,
went on to make what he called the very few remarks necessary as to
the evidence which on the next day he proposed to produce as to the
prisoner's character. He ventured to think that evidence as to the
character of such a nature,--so strong, so convincing, so complete,
and so free from all objection, had never yet been given in a
criminal court. At six o'clock he completed his speech, and it
was computed that the old man had been on his legs very nearly
seven hours. It was said of him afterwards that he was taken home
speechless by one of his daughters and immediately put to bed, that
he roused himself about eight and ate his dinner and drank a bottle
of port in his bedroom, that he then slept,--refusing to stir even
when he was waked, till half-past nine in the morning, and that then
he scrambled into his clothes, breakfasted, and got down to the Court
in half an hour. At ten o'clock he was in his place, and nobody knew
that he was any the worse for the previous day's exertion.
This was on a Tuesday, the fifth day of the trial, and upon the
whole perhaps the most interesting. A long array of distinguished
persons,--of women as well as men,--was brought up to give to the
jury their opinion as to the character of Mr. Finn. Mr. Low was the
first, who having been his tutor when he was studying at the bar,
knew him longer than any other Londoner. Then came his countryman
Laurence Fitzgibbon, and Barrington Erle, and others of his own party
who had been intimate with him. And men, too, from the opposite side
of the House were brought up, Sir Orlando Drought among the number,
all of whom said that they had known the prisoner well, and from
their knowledge would have considered it impossible that he should
have become a murderer. The two last called were Lord Cantrip and Mr.
Monk, one of whom was, and the other had been, a Cabinet Minister.
But before them came Lady Cantrip,--and Lady Chiltern, whom we once
knew as Violet Effingham, whom this very prisoner had in early days
fondly hoped to make his wife, who was still young and beautiful, and
who had never before entered a public Court.
There had of course been much question as to the witnesses to be
selected. The Duchess of Omnium had been anxious to be one, but the
Duke had forbidden it, telling his wife that she really did not know
the man, and that she was carried away by a foolish enthusiasm. Lady
Cantrip when asked had at once consented. She had known Phineas Finn
when he had served under her husband, and had liked him much. Then
what other woman's tongue should be brought to speak of the man's
softness and tender bearing! It was out of the question that Lady
Laura Kennedy should appear. She did not even propose it when her
brother with unnecessary sternness told her it could not be so. Then
his wife looked at him. "You shall go," said Lord Chiltern, "if you
feel equal to it. It seems to be nonsense, but they say that it is
important."
"I will go," said Violet, with her eyes full of tears. Afterwards
when her sister-in-law besought her to be generous in her testimony,
she only smiled as she assented. Could generosity go beyond hers?
Lord Chiltern preceded his wife. "I have," he said, "known Mr. Finn
well, and have loved him dearly. I have eaten with him and drank with
him, have ridden with him, have lived with him, and have quarrelled
with him; and I know him as I do my own right hand." Then he
stretched forth his arm with the palm extended.
"Irrespectively of the evidence in this case you would not have
thought him to be a man likely to commit such a crime?" asked
Serjeant Birdbolt.
"I am quite sure from my knowledge of the man that he could not
commit a murder," said Lord Chiltern; "and I don't care what the
evidence is."
Then came his wife, and it certainly was a pretty sight to see as her
husband led her up to the box and stood close beside her as she gave
her evidence. There were many there who knew much of the history of
her life,--who knew that passage in it of her early love,--for the
tale had of course been told when it was whispered about that Lady
Chiltern was to be examined as a witness. Every ear was at first
strained to hear her words;--but they were audible in every corner
of the Court without any effort. It need hardly be said that she was
treated with the greatest deference on every side. She answered the
questions very quietly, but apparently without nervousness. "Yes; she
had known Mr. Finn long, and intimately, and had very greatly valued
his friendship. She did so still,--as much as ever. Yes; she had
known him for some years, and in circumstances which she thought
justified her in saying that she understood his character. She
regarded him as a man who was brave and tender-hearted, soft in
feeling and manly in disposition. To her it was quite incredible that
he should have committed a crime such as this. She knew him to be a
man prone to forgive offences, and of a sweet nature." And it was
pretty too to watch the unwonted gentleness of old Chaffanbrass as
he asked the questions, and carefully abstained from putting any one
that could pain her. Sir Gregory said that he had heard her evidence
with great pleasure, but that he had no question to ask her himself.
Then she stepped down, again took her husband's arm, and left the
Court amidst a hum of almost affectionate greeting.
And what must he have thought as he stood there within the dock,
looking at her and listening to her? There had been months in his
life when he had almost trusted that he would succeed in winning that
fair, highly-born, and wealthy woman for his wife; and though he
had failed, and now knew that he had never really touched her heart,
that she had always loved the man whom,--though she had rejected him
time after time because of the dangers of his ways,--she had at last
married, yet it must have been pleasant to him, even in his peril, to
hear from her own lips how well she had esteemed him. She left the
Court with her veil down, and he could not catch her eye; but Lord
Chiltern nodded to him in his old pleasant familiar way, as though to
bid him take courage, and to tell him that all things would even yet
be well with him.
The evidence given by Lady Cantrip and her husband and by Mr. Monk
was equally favourable. She had always regarded him as a perfect
gentleman. Lord Cantrip had found him to be devoted to the service
of the country,--modest, intelligent, and high-spirited. Perhaps the
few words which fell from Mr. Monk were as strong as any that were
spoken. "He is a man whom I have delighted to call my friend, and I
have been happy to think that his services have been at the disposal
of his country."
Sir Gregory Grogram replied. It seemed to him that the evidence was
as he had left it. It would be for the jury to decide, under such
directions as his lordship might be pleased to give them, how far
that evidence brought the guilt home to the prisoner. He would use no
rhetoric in pushing the case against the prisoner; but he must submit
to them that his learned friend had not shown that acquaintance with
human nature which the gentleman undoubtedly possessed in arguing
that there had lacked time for the conception and execution of the
crime. Then, at considerable length, he strove to show that Mr.
Chaffanbrass had been unjustly severe upon Lord Fawn.
It was late in the afternoon when Sir Gregory had finished his
speech, and the judge's charge was reserved for a sixth day.