In many cases the inhabitants of an assize town are very little
affected by what is taking place in their courts. They see lawyers
flock in and juries assemble, witnesses moving about in troops, and a
rich crop of blue bags growing up. But with the causes or the
prisoners, they very little trouble their heads. The host of the inn
rubs his hands and rejoices: a heavy calendar to him is a God-send.
His waiters, probably increased in number, bustle about to feed those
classes which are proverbially ravenous; and the chamber-maids are in
great request. The pastrycook becomes a person of importance; the
cookshop has its share of business, and red tape and parchment rise in
value; while the ladies of the place think a good deal of the young
barristers, and very little of those whose causes brought them to the
town.
But there are occasions, on the contrary, when, either from the
intrinsic interest of the case, or from adventitious circumstances
connected with it, the people even of the town in which the trial
takes place become almost universally excited by what is occurring in
the courts; and upon every turn of the trial as it proceeds hangs a
world of emotions in the bosoms of men only linked to the transaction
by the tie of sympathy.
Such was the case in regard to the trial of Chandos Winslow. Not a
drawing-room, not a tea-table, not a chamber in a tavern, not even a
coffee-room did not hear discussed during the whole evening of the
ninth the various events which had taken place in the court-house
during the day, while calculations were formed, and even bets made, on
the probable result of the trial. The prisoner had become quite a hero
of romance to all the youth and much of the age of the place. He was
so young, so handsome, so noble-looking, that the women of S---- of
course felt interest in his favour; and the men declared he bore it
stoutly, struck by his firm and calm demeanour, and his resolute and
gallant bearing. Nevertheless, at the close of the case for the
prosecution, a very general impression prevailed that he would be
found guilty. So many startling facts had been proved against him: his
absence from his house precisely at the time of the murder; the exact
correspondence of his shoes with the footsteps to and from the spot
where the crime was committed; the bloody hands and coat; and the
terribly agitated demeanour which had been witnessed by the boy and
the old woman on his return, would almost have been enough for
conviction, even without the terrible and seemingly conclusive fact,
that the fatal deed had evidently been committed with the very hoe
which he had carried out in his hand.
Under such circumstances, the rush at the doors of the court-house on
the morning of the tenth was tremendous, and it was as much as the
officers on duty could do, aided by a strong body of police, to
prevent the multitude from crushing each other to death in the
passages and in the very court itself. Several of the magnates of the
county were accommodated with seats on the bench to hear the defence;
and the voice of the judge himself was raised to its very highest
tones to suppress the disorder that occurred when the prisoner
appeared in the dock.
Wearing anxiety will have its effect on every frame, and Chandos
Winslow looked paler and thinner than on the first day of the trial;
but still the magnificent head, the fine person, the tranquil and
undaunted bearing, and the firm, strong step had their effect upon
those who beheld them, and the impression was that though the jury
might and would say "Guilty," the man was innocent.
Sir ---- every one remarked, was exceedingly pale; and before he rose
he turned over the papers under his hand several times, with a look of
nervous anxiety; but the moment he was upon his feet, that look passed
away; he raised his head high; he cast back his shoulders as if for
full breath, and, fixing his fine and speaking eyes upon the jury,
began,
"My lord and gentlemen of the jury,--The learned sergeant who has
conducted the prosecution assured you that to do so was the most
painful task of his life. I doubt it not in the least; for it must be
a terrible task indeed to become the public accuser of such a man as
the prisoner, with even a doubt upon the mind of his guilt: and how
many doubts must have existed in this case? If such were the feelings
of my learned friend, judge, gentlemen of the jury, what must be mine,
when, in rising to defend the prisoner at the bar, I know that upon my
feeble efforts depends not only the life of an innocent man, not only
the life of one who is an ornament to the society in which he moves,
but the life and honour of my dearest friend! With what anxieties must
I be oppressed; how terrible must be the responsibility when the
slightest failure of my powers, the least oversight on my part, any
weakness, any indiscretion, may condemn to death one whom I love as a
brother--one whom I know to be innocent, as I have trust in God! I am
no paid advocate, retained to defend a bad cause; I am not a counsel
doing merely his professional duties: but I am a friend standing forth
in defence of a friend; an honest man raising his voice to save an
innocent one. Terrible are the difficulties which all these cases
present: more than ordinary are the difficulties in the present case;
and all these are aggravated in an enormous degree by the very
feelings of friendship which exist between myself and the prisoner, by
the doubts and fears of myself, which make me tremble at my own
incompetence, by the zeal which perplexes, by the eagerness which
confounds. The burden would be too great, gentlemen of the jury; it
would overwhelm me; but happily there are circumstances which
lighten the load. I see upon the bench one of the most learned and
clear-sighted of those judges who are an honour to the nation to which
they belong: I see in that box a body of Englishmen well calculated by
judgment and experience to distinguish between truth and falsehood;
between the factitious glozing of an artificial oratory, and the
simple eloquence of right and conviction: and I hold under my hand the
means of establishing, beyond all doubt, the innocence of my friend,
if friendship do not deprive me of reason, if enthusiasm do not
paralyse my tongue.
"I will now, however, do my best to grapple with the case as presented
to you by my learned friend; and, doing him full justice for his high
eloquence, believing most sincerely that he has stated nothing but
what he was instructed was true, I will still venture to say, that a
more terrible misrepresentation was never made to an English jury.
Now, in the very first instance my learned friend asserted that the
prisoner at the bar is of a sharp and vindictive disposition; and he
said that he should be able to show that such was the case. Gentlemen,
I will ask you, has he proved that fact? I will ask you if he has made
any attempt to prove it? I will ask you if his own witnesses have not
proved the exact reverse; if they have not shown that the prisoner is
of a kind and gentle disposition, winning the love and esteem of all
around, high and low, rich and poor? and, whether we see him teaching
the uneducated child, saving the drowning boy, or tending him in his
after sickness, I will ask, if all that _has_ been proved does not
excite admiration, and sympathy, and respect? Cast from your minds,
then, such unjustified and vague expressions: look upon his general
character as it is shown by the very evidence for the prosecution,
tender rather than sharp, benevolent instead of vindictive. But the
insinuation, gentlemen of the jury, has been made, though not
supported; and it forces me to establish the contrary by proofs.
Something was said too, gentlemen, of a duel between the prisoner and
Viscount Overton, and a connexion must have instantly established
itself in the minds of the jury, between that duel and the sharp and
vindictive character ascribed to the prisoner. But, gentlemen, I will
place that honourable nobleman in the witness-box, to speak to the
character of the prisoner. He shall himself tell you what he thinks of
the circumstances which produced the duel; and you shall judge from
facts, not from insinuations. All this shall be triumphantly swept
away, and I will not leave a vestige of such charges against my
friend. I will call the old servants of his father's house, I will
call the tenants, the parishioners, the neighbours. Their evidence
need not be long, but it will be conclusive to show that a more
honourable, upright, generous, kind-hearted man never existed; full of
noble enthusiasms, gentle in habits, benevolent in disposition,
incapable of a base or a cruel action.
"So much, gentlemen of the jury, for the first part of the charge: for
the general and vague insinuation, made for the purpose of preparing
your minds to regard the prisoner as a man of blood. But it seemed
necessary to my learned friend; and most necessary indeed it was to
his case, to show some apparent motive for the crime of which the
prisoner is accused; and a letter has been read in evidence to prove
that there was some dispute between the prisoner and the murdered man.
That letter shall be fully explained before I have done; and you shall
see how ridiculously petty is the motive assigned for so great an
offence. But besides that letter, allusion was made to former disputes
between the unfortunate Mr. Roberts and the prisoner, which, though
not proved, may have had some influence upon your minds. I will show
that no such disputes ever existed; that the two were on the best and
most kindly terms, that they had been so through life; and that those
causes of disgust which had induced the prisoner to quit his brother's
mansion were identical with the causes which induced Mr. Roberts to
give notice to Sir William Winslow that he was about to leave his
employment. In short, I will prove that Mr. Winslow and the man he is
accused of murdering, were acting on the most friendly terms together;
and that the letter which is supposed to prove that a dispute existed,
was written in cold terms merely as an authority to Mr. Roberts for
disregarding any orders he might have received from his employer to
meddle with things in which that employer had no right. It was, in
short, a formal notice to him to respect the rights of the prisoner,
without any regard to the illegal directions of a third party. I shall
be able to prove that Mr. Roberts possessed the full confidence of Mr.
Chandos Winslow; that he was acting with due regard for Mr. Winslow's
interests, and that he had actually applied or intended to apply to
that gentleman for an authority or warning to respect, in his capacity
of agent for Sir William Winslow, the rights of him, the prisoner at
the bar. Thus the pretence of motive furnished by the letter which he,
Mr. Roberts, had himself desired, falls entirely to the ground, and
leaves the accusation totally without foundation, except such as a
very doubtful train of circumstantial evidence can afford. Mr.
Roberts, in fact, was the only confidant of the prisoner at the bar,
the only person to whom he confided his address, when disgust at some
injuries he imagined he had received, and a desire to mingle as an
equal with classes in which he had long taken a deep interest as a
superior, led him to quit his high position in society, and accept the
humble station of gardener to Mr. Arthur Tracy, of Northferry. Was
this, gentlemen of the jury, like long disputes and acrimonious
bickerings, ending in malevolence and murder? Is that the man to
entertain such passions?--to commit such an act?
"But I will make no appeal to your feelings; I will address myself to
your judgment only. I will break through this chain of circumstantial
evidence; I will show that it cannot affect the prisoner, that it is
not applicable to him. I will proceed logically with my inferences;
though it may be somewhat out of the usual course. I will first
convince you that the prisoner was not a man likely to commit such a
crime, by the testimony of many witnesses. I will next prove that
there was no earthly motive for his committing that crime; but every
motive for his not doing so: and, in the end, I will establish beyond
all question that it was impossible that he could have committed it.
Before I proceed to call my witnesses, however, it may be necessary to
examine closely the evidence already adduced, in order that we may
separate the facts clearly and distinctly proved from an immense mass
of irrelevant matter. In so doing, I shall not attempt to explain
every fact and every circumstance; I shall not seek to prove why the
prisoner did this, or why he did that. To do so would occupy
unnecessarily the time and patience of the court. For, surely,
if I establish beyond all doubt, those three great points I have
named--That the prisoner was not a man likely by character,
disposition, and previous conduct, to commit such a crime; secondly,
that he had no possible motive for committing it; but the reverse: and
thirdly, that if the testimony already given be not altogether false,
he could not have committed it, that will be quite sufficient for the
satisfaction of the court.
"The evidence, gentlemen of the jury, divides itself into two
principal parts: that which relates to the death of Mr. Roberts: and
that by which it is attempted to connect his death with some act of
the prisoner. The simple facts regarding the death of the unhappy
victim of some other man's bad passions are clearly proved in
evidence, by the various witnesses you have heard in their examination
and cross-examination. Their testimony has not been shaken in the
least; and I do not wish to shake it. In considering this evidence it
is of the utmost importance to the establishment of truth, that
everything should be precise; and I must therefore impress the facts
upon your minds that you may take them in conjunction with the
evidence I shall myself offer, and from the whole draw the only
deduction which can logically be drawn: that it is impossible the
prisoner could have committed the act with which he is charged. You
have heard the testimony of James Wilson, the footman of Mr. Tracy,
the last person that we know of who spoke with Mr. Roberts, before the
murder; with the exception of Jones, the valet. This man stated at
first, that Mr. Roberts called about five o'clock; but afterwards
admitted, on cross-examination, that it was certainly ten minutes past
five. It might have been more, but I am contented with that. The
witness Jones corroborated the testimony of James Wilson, and fixed
the time of Mr. Roberts's call at ten minutes or a quarter after five.
These statements are not shaken. It was at least ten minutes past five
when the murdered man was at Mr. Tracy's house. He stayed apparently a
very short time there; but we find from Wilson's evidence in answer to
the court, that it would take ten minutes more to go from the house to
the spot where the murder was committed. We will not assume that any
time was lost on the road. It was, therefore, at least twenty minutes
after five before the criminal act was perpetrated. My learned friend
has attempted to fix the period of the murder. I will try to do the
same thing; but somewhat more accurately. The little boy, Timothy
Stanley, in evidence which, from its perspicuity, simplicity, and
truthful straightforwardness, you must all recollect, has shown that,
at half-past five o'clock the murder had been actually committed. I
take the time by Northferry clock to be the real time--at least it
must be assumed to be so for our purposes; and I may as well inform
the jury, here, that I last night sent off an express to Northferry to
ascertain what difference, if any, exists between the clock at Mr.
Tracy's house and that of Northferry church. By this man I shall prove
that there is but one minute difference between the church clock and
that in the hall so often alluded to, although that clock has not been
set for one week, owing to Mr. Tracy's unfortunate absence. But I
shall be in a condition to prove that it was set every day at noon
precisely, during that gentleman's residence at Northferry, and set by
the church clock. Thus it appears by testimony, which has not at all
been shaken, that the murder of Mr. Roberts must have taken place
between twenty minutes and half-an-hour after five; that at ten
minutes past five he was in Mr. Tracy's hall, and at half-past five
was seen murdered at the end of the grounds, the distance between the
two places being, I see by the plan, forty yards less than half-a-mile
in a direct line, and rather more than three quarters of a mile by the
walks. The body was not found till past ten o'clock, or more than four
hours and a half after it was seen by the boy. At this time it was
quite cold and stiff. The surgeon has proved that death was occasioned
by an incised wound on the head, penetrating the brain, of a kind
which might be given by a Dutch hoe, and a Dutch hoe was found on the
ground near the body, with blood and gray hair upon it. There can be
little doubt that this hoe was the instrument by which the murderer
perpetrated his crime. That it was so, struck the prisoner at once, as
you have heard; and moreover that he acknowledged the hoe to be his,
and said that he had left it leaning against one of the pillars of the
little temple over the fish-pond. These are the admitted facts
concerning the murder, of which there can be no doubt.
"We will now turn to the circumstantial evidence, by which it is
attempted to connect the prisoner with the crime. Now my learned
friend has repeated to you an old axiom of law that circumstantial
evidence is often more convincing than direct evidence; and he has
reasoned ably upon that question. Nevertheless, the numerous instances
of awful injustice which have been committed in consequence of giving
too much weight to circumstantial evidence, has shaken the confidence
of many of the wisest and most learned men in the reasoning by which
the axiom is supported, and in the justice of the axiom itself. I need
not call to your mind a sad instance which occurred not many years ago
in France, where an amiable and excellent man, mayor of a great city,
after submitting to the knife of the guillotine, was proved to be
perfectly innocent; and very many such instances are on record; but I
do believe that after the trial which now occupies this court has come
to its conclusion, all thinking men will regard circumstantial
evidence with much greater doubt than they have hitherto done, and
juries will pause ere they take upon themselves the frightful
responsibility of sending a fellow-creature to death while the shadow
of a doubt remains. I say that the result of this trial will show that
too great a dependence on circumstantial evidence may often betray
wise and good men into acts which must burden their consciences for
all their remaining days. I wish to produce this effect. I wish to put
in the very strongest point of view, not only for the present
occasion, but for future instruction, the very fallible nature of
circumstantial evidence; and therefore in this instance I shall deal
with it in a peculiar manner. I will not attempt to struggle with it;
I will not try to shake it; I will not even descend to explain it. It
shall stand in full force, bearing against my client to the very last;
but then I will prove that it is utterly worthless, that it does not
affect him even in the slightest degree; that there is not even a
possibility of his having committed the crime. I will explain not one
of all the circumstances that tell against him; and yet, without
quitting that box, you shall give a verdict of acquittal.
"Nevertheless, it will be necessary to examine the evidence, in order
to extract from it those facts which have a real bearing on the case,
and which fall into the line of defence. The rest I shall leave
intact, without attempting to weaken it in the slightest degree. The
evidence by which it is attempted to connect the prisoner with the
crime, divides itself into three heads. One portion is that which
shows that he was proceeding towards the spot where the dead body was
found, nearly at the time when the murder must have been committed.
The second refers to the traces of the deed left by the murderer, or
supposed to have been left by him--the hoe with which the deed was
done, the steps to and from the haw-haw and in the ditch. The third,
relates to the demeanour and personal appearance of the prisoner after
the murder had been committed. Under the first head we find from the
witness, William Sandes, that he met the prisoner as he was going home
from his work. The prisoner was going down towards the scene of the
tragedy. The witness at first asserted, that it was about five o'clock
when he met the prisoner, very naturally not wishing to make it
appear that he had quitted his work before the proper time. But in
cross-examination we got out of him, that he had on previous occasions
left the garden earlier than he ought to have done, and had been
reprimanded by the prisoner. He also admitted that it was broad
daylight, and might be a quarter before five. Thus the time at which
Sandes met the prisoner was rather more than half-an-hour before the
murder could have been committed. I beg you to mark this fact well,
gentlemen of the jury, for it is important. Then we have the evidence
of the old woman, Humphries. She shows that he came into his cottage
about half-past four, on the day of the murder, and went out again
exactly at five, by a clock which is proved to have been on that
night, from ten minutes to a quarter-of-an-hour too fast, thus
corroborating the statement on cross-examination of the witness,
Sandes. You will recollect, gentlemen of the jury, that on the fifth
of February the sun sets before five o'clock. The witness, Sandes,
says, that when he met the prisoner he does not think the sun was
down; that it was broad daylight. The good woman, Humphries, declares
that the prisoner went to take a look round the grounds before it was
dark, all showing that it must have been considerably before five
o'clock when he went out. Now, the murder could not have been
committed before twenty minutes past five. This is the evidence
tending to show that the prisoner was in the grounds and went towards
the fatal spot some time before the crime was perpetrated. He never
denies, or has denied, that such was the case. He admitted it in
conversation with Mr. Tracy. He said he had been speaking to Miss
Tracy within a very few yards of the place where the body was found.
And here I must remark upon two circumstances well worthy of your
consideration. First: that the counsel for the prosecution have not
thought fit to call Miss Tracy; but threw upon us the burden of so
doing. Now, Acton, the gardener, might have no hesitation in calling
that young lady; but, Mr. Chandos Winslow may have many reasons for
not subjecting one towards whom he entertains high respect--may I not
say affection?--to the torturing cross-examination of an adverse
counsel. Suffice it, gentlemen of the jury, that he refuses to call
her; and, respecting his motives, I have ventured to argue, but not to
insist.--She should have been called for the prosecution. The other
important fact to which I must call your particular attention is this,
that although it is proved the prisoner was in the grounds a short
time before the murder, we have it in evidence that some one else was
in the grounds exactly at the time when the murder must have taken
place. Michael Burwash, has sworn, that some ten minutes or
quarter-of-an-hour after Mr. Roberts went to the place where he met
his death, he saw some person enter the house from that very
direction, walking in a quick and hurried manner; that he passed
through the green-house instead of taking the usual entrance, as if he
desired to avoid observation. Who was it? The witness says it was not
Mr. Tracy, or General Tracy; and certainly not the prisoner at the
bar. I do not wish to throw any imputations; but the fact is proved,
that there was some man, not the prisoner, in the grounds at the very
time the murder must have been committed.
"Now I come to the second head of evidence--the traces of the
murderer's progress. The hoe has been admitted to be the prisoner's by
himself in this court. More may be very safely admitted; namely, that
he carried it out with him in his hand, that he had it out with him
when he met the witness, Sandes, and that he rested it against one of
the pillars while he spoke with Miss Tracy, leaving it there when he
went away. What more natural than to suppose, that the murderer,
seeing it there, snatched it up to effect his criminal design? The
footmarks in the grass, I not only deny to have been the prisoner's,
but I must say, that it is very nearly proved they were not. It is
sworn that there were but two lines, one coming and one going, between
the haw-haw and the spot; and it is admitted by the witness Taylor,
that one of the men who accompanied Mr. Tracy at night went from the
place where the body was found to the haw-haw and back. It is also
shown that the ground was so soft as to receive the impression of any
foot that trod upon it. These steps then could not have been the
prisoner's; but servants, and constable, and all, seem to have made up
their mind that the prisoner was the murderer, and the shoes of no
other person were examined. Now, gentlemen of the jury, I will touch
upon the third head of evidence--the prisoner's appearance and
demeanour after the murder. He returned to his cottage, it is shown,
somewhat after six o'clock, and I shall not in the slightest degree
attempt, as I told you I would not, to lessen the weight of this
evidence, nor even to explain the facts. I am precluded by his most
positive injunctions from doing so. I admit then that he returned in a
state of very considerable agitation; that he was annoyed, harassed,
vexed; that there was blood upon his hands and upon his coat, and I
will give no explanation of these facts. He forbids me to give the
true one; and I will give no other. Were there no means of
establishing his innocence, this refusal of explanation might create a
reasonable doubt in your minds; but that doubt would be far from
justifying you in a verdict of guilty. Any one can conceive a thousand
circumstances which might have produced that agitation, and which
might have covered his hands and stained his coat with blood, but
which the most honourable motives would prevent him from explaining.
The proof must always lie with the other side; the prosecutor is bound
to leave no reasonable doubt in your minds. It is not enough to
produce a doubt of the prisoner's innocence; and therefore it is I say
that though if no means existed of proving the prisoner to be not
guilty, this refusal of explanation might produce a suspicion that he
was guilty, yet that suspicion would be by no means sufficient to
justify a verdict against him.
"But, gentlemen of the jury, I will not be satisfied with this. My
friend must quit that dock without a stain upon his character. It must
be in his case as in that of the famous Lord Cowper, who was tried in
his youth for murder upon evidence much stronger than any which has
been adduced on this occasion, who triumphed over a false accusation,
left the court with honour unsullied, and rose to the very highest
rank in his profession, holding the first official station in the
realm beneath the crown. Nothing will content me but to see my friend
so acquitted; and therefore I will not plead the benefit of a doubt.
Nothing will content him but such an acquittal; and therefore he
forbids me to urge upon the court a fatal flaw which I have discovered
in the indictment. But I can ensure that acquittal; and before I have
done, I will prove, upon evidence unimpeachable, clear, distinct, and
positive, that the prisoner was far distant from the spot at the
moment the crime was committed; that it was, in short, physically
impossible that he could have had any share in it. I will prove it, by
persons above all suspicion of collusion, without motive, without
object of favouring or assisting him. I will show, I say, not alone
that the man round whom such a long chain of circumstantial evidence
has been entwined, did not commit the crime with which he is charged;
but that he could not have committed it; and I will call upon you for
such an immediate and unhesitating verdict as will leave his name and
honour clear of every imputation. Gentlemen of the jury, there is a
joyful task before you, after you have performed a long and arduous
one. Painful, yet mingled with satisfaction, have been the duties
which I have taken upon myself. At first the awful responsibility
overwhelmed me; the anxiety for my client, the apprehension for my
friend, the sense of my own incompetence, the tremendous stake in
peril, seemed too much for my mind; but every step as I have proceeded
has strengthened my confidence and reinvigorated my resolution.
Knowing my friend's innocence, seeing the proofs of it accumulate,
perceiving that the case for the prosecution crumbled away under
cross-examination, and assured that without a word for the defence
there was in reality no case to go to a jury, I felt that my own
weakness could not much affect the result, and that his safely
depended not on such feeble powers as mine. To God and to his country
he has appealed; to God and to his country I leave his fate, certain
that the one will defend, where my voice fails, the other do him
justice, whatever powers be arrayed against him."
The tears rose in his eyes; his voice trembled and almost failed at
the last words; but those last words were as distinctly heard in the
court as the most powerful tones of the adverse counsel; for there was
a dead silence, unbroken by a breath.