AN IMPORTANT MURDER TRIAL
Amongst the murder trials on the "Calendar of Prisoners" appeared
"No 38; Madar Lal Dhingra, 25, Student, wilful murder of Sir William
Hutt Curzon Wyllie and Dr. Cowas Lalcaca." This referred to the
cowardly assassination of an English gentleman who had devoted his
life to Indian administration and to benefiting the native races of
that country, and to the murder of an Indian doctor, who lost his
life in an effort to save him. The tragedy, the news of which had
profoundly shocked the world less than three weeks before, occurred
during an evening reception at the Imperial Institute. The prisoner,
a fanatical Indian student, was believed to have borne no personal
animosity to his victim.
No one knew exactly when the case would be reached, but it had been
expected for several days when, one morning, the Old Bailey, in
view of a possible disturbance by Indian sympathizers, was found to
be carefully guarded by detectives. Except a small audience admitted
by cards which were doubtless hard to procure and not transferable,
the public, clamoring at the doors, were excluded from the Court,
although one American lady, who appeared in one of the back seats,
seemed to have had information and influence necessary to gain an
entrée.
The barristers' benches, however, were so full that there was an
unusual array of bewigged heads on that side of the court. The jury,
already in place, and the small audience, waited in quiet but tense
expectation. While one was idly noting the usual dried herbs and
rose leaves on the desks and carpet of the judges' dais, the Lord
Chief Justice seated himself and rolled his chair forward, a shaft
of soft sun rays from the skylight accentuating his scarlet robe.
The sheriffs bowed and took their seats at the side, and Dhingra's
name was called.
Into the dock at the far end of the room popped the prisoner,
guarded by two imperturbable policemen. He was a little, yellow
youth with a Semitic or Oriental countenance, silky black hair much
dishevelled and badly in need of the scissors, and eyes, so far as
they were discernible under his gold-rimmed spectacles, of
glittering black. He wore an ordinary gray suit and stood with his
right hand thrust into the breast of his coat, suggesting that he
had concealed there some weapon or, perhaps, poison; but of course
he had long since been disarmed and under careful guard. His was a
meagre figure, by no means conveying to an observer his own
conceited estimate of his personality. When he spoke, though posing
as a hero and martyr, he revealed only a sullen, sulky and venomous
disposition and the ferocity of his character was attested by the
premeditated and treacherous murder which he had committed.
The Clerk of Arraigns having asked whether the prisoner pleaded
guilty or not guilty, his reply was at first not understood because
of his broken English and his quick, spasmodic utterance. So his
answer had to be repeated, as follows:
_Prisoner_: "First of all, I would say these words can not
be used with regard to me at all. Whatever I did was an act
of patriotism which was justified. The only thing I have
got to say is contained in that statement, which I believe
you have got."
_The Clerk_: "The only question is whether you plead
guilty or not guilty to this indictment."
_Prisoner_: "Well, according to my view I will plead not
guilty."
_The Clerk_: "Are you defended by counsel?"
_Prisoner_: "No."
There were three barristers for the prosecution, including the
Attorney General who chiefly conducted the case. The Lord Chief
Justice volunteered leave to the prisoner to sit down, which he did,
appearing more diminutive than ever, in contrast with his guardians.
The junior barrister having stated the names, the date and locality
of the crime very briefly, the Attorney General opened the case for
the prosecution in great detail, consuming a third of the ninety
minutes which elapsed before sentence of death. In his opening, as
is usual in England, he produced exhibits and read letters not yet
offered in evidence.
In substance it was related that Dhingra came to England about three
years before to study engineering and fell into the association of
India House, a rendezvous in London of Indians of seditious
proclivities. He lived in lodgings where he had few visitors and
where, after the murder, was found a letter from Sir Curzon Wyllie
which was read in the opening speech and which stated that the
prisoner had been commended to the writer's protection and offered
to be of service to him while in England. The story was told of his
procuring a license to carry a weapon, of his purchase of a Colt's
automatic magazine revolver and another revolver, of cartridges and
of a long dagger--all of which were produced by the speaker and the
triggers of the empty pistols snapped to show the jury how they
worked.
An account of his frequent practice at a pistol gallery for three
months and up to the very afternoon of the day of the tragedy and
the use of a target the size of a man's head, preceded an exhibition
of the last paper target used, when four bullets out of the five had
pierced the bull's eye. The speaker described how Dhingra had called
his victim aside into a vestibule while Lady Wyllie proceeded down
the staircase, how he fired four shots pointblank, which passed
through Sir Curzon's head; how Dr. Lalcaca had tried to intervene
and was shot for his temerity, and how, finally, an elderly English
baronet had grappled with the murderer and succeeded in wresting the
revolver from him and bearing him to the floor.
The witnesses were then called and examined with great rapidity, the
judge restricting their testimony to essentials and checking both
counsel and witness from the slightest digression. This seemed to be
carried almost to an extreme, as an untrained witness often brings
forth an important fact amid much irrelevant verbosity. At the end
of the direct examination of the first witness, his Lordship asked
Dhingra if he wished to cross-examine. The latter growled a negative
but added that he had something to say, whereupon he was informed
that he would have an opportunity for that later. Thereafter, when
asked the same question at the conclusion of each witness' evidence,
he merely shook his head.
The prosecution having rested, Dhingra was asked if he had any
witnesses and replied that he had not. The Lord Chief Justice then
informed him that if he had anything to say, now would be his
chance, and asked whether he desired to speak where he was--from the
dock--or from the stand. The judge of course referred to the
difference between a mere unsworn statement which might be in the
nature of a plea to the jury to add a recommendation for mercy to
their verdict, or, sworn testimony which might go to the merits of
guilt or innocence. It was apparent that the prisoner, as he was
without counsel, did not understand this question and, as well, that
the judge did not comprehend his inability to grasp a distinction
indicated in the question. Doubtless, as the prisoner was bound to
be hanged--and he richly deserved it--the misunderstanding made not
the slightest difference in this case, but one could not help
feeling that the failure to provide counsel was a serious defect in
the administration of justice.
Dhingra elected to remain in the dock and stated that he was unable
to remember all he wanted to say, but that he had committed it to a
writing which was in the possession of the police. This was then
read by the Clerk but so falteringly owing to the manuscript being
illegible, that the effect of the revolutionary diatribe was largely
lost. The London _Times_, however, printed it the next day as
follows:
"I do not want to say anything in defence of myself, but simply to
prove the justice of my deed. For myself I do not think any English
law court has got any authority to arrest me, or to detain me in
prison, or to pass sentence of death upon me. That is the reason why
I did not have any counsel to defend me. I maintain that if it would
be patriotic in an Englishman to fight against the Germans, if they
were to occupy this country, it is much more justifiable and
patriotic in my case to fight against the English. I hold the
English people responsible for the murder of eighty millions of my
countrymen in the last fifty years, and they are also responsible
for taking away £100,000,000 every year from India to this country.
"I also hold them responsible for the hanging and deportation of my
patriotic countrymen, who do just the same as the English people
here are advising their countrymen to do. An Englishman who goes out
to India and gets, say, £100 a month, simply passes the sentence of
death upon one thousand of my poor countrymen who could live on that
£100 a month, which the Englishman spends mostly on his frivolities
and pleasures.
"Just as the Germans have got no right to occupy this country, so
the English people have no right to occupy India, and it is
perfectly justifiable on our part to kill an Englishman who is
polluting our sacred land.
"I am surprised at the terrible hypocrisy, farce, and mockery of the
English people when they pose as champions of oppressed humanity
such as in the case of the people of the Congo and of Russia, while
there is such terrible oppression and such horrible atrocities in
India. For example, they kill 2,000,000 of our people every year and
outrage our women. If this country is occupied by Germans and an
Englishman, not bearing to see the Germans walking with the
insolence of conquerors in the streets of London, goes and kills one
or two Germans, then, if that Englishman is held as a patriot by the
people of this country, then certainly I am a patriot too, working
for the emancipation of my Motherland. Whatever else I have to say
is in the statement now in the possession of the court. I make this
statement, not because I wish to plead for mercy or anything of that
kind. I wish the English people will sentence me to death, for in
that case the vengeance of my countrymen will be all the more keen.
I put forward this statement to show the justice of my cause to the
outside world, especially to our sympathizers in America and
Germany. That is all."
His Lordship then asked the prisoner if he wished to say anything
more.
The prisoner at first said "No", but just as the Lord Chief Justice
was commencing to sum up the case to the jury, Dhingra said there
was another statement on foolscap paper.
_His Lordship_: "Any other statement you must make now
yourself."
_Prisoner_: "I do not remember it now."
_His Lordship_: "You must make any statement you wish to
the jury. If there is anything, say it now."
_Prisoner_: "It was taken from my pocket amongst other
papers."
_His Lordship_: "I do not care what was in your pocket.
With what you had written before, we have nothing to do.
You can say anything you wish to the jury. What you have
written on previous occasions is no evidence in this case.
If you wish to say anything to the jury in defence of
yourself, say it now. Do you wish to say anything more?"
_Prisoner_: "No."
The Lord Chief Justice then summed up the case to the jury in a
charge occupying but six minutes. He said that the evidence was
absolutely conclusive; that the jury had no concern with any
political justification for the crime, for if anything of the kind
were considered it would be in the carrying of the sentence into
effect--with which the jury had nothing to do--that this was an
ordinary crime by which a blameless man, who had devoted himself to
the public service and had done much for the natives of India, had
lost his life, and that it was quite plain there had been
premeditation. His Lordship added that there was nothing which could
induce the jury to reduce the crime from murder to manslaughter, nor
was it suggested that Dhingra was insane, so that if the jury
believed the uncontradicted evidence the only possible verdict was
one of wilful murder.
Without leaving the box the jury put their heads together and, in
less than a minute, the foreman arose and uttered the fateful word
"Guilty."
There are no degrees of murder in England, but in cases where a weak
intellect or greatly extenuating circumstances render hanging too
severe a penalty, the Home Secretary may exercise a power of
commutation. Thereupon Dhingra having been ordered to stand up, the
clerk addressed him as follows: "You stand convicted of the crime of
wilful murder. Have you anything to say for yourself, why sentence
of death should not be passed on you according to law?"
_Prisoner_: (with a snarl) "I have told you once I do not
acknowledge the authority of the Court. You can do whatever
you like with me--I do not care. Remember, one day we
shall be all-powerful, and then we can do what we like."
Then followed absolute silence for two minutes--a silence in which
the breathing of persons near was audible.
Slowly the Lord Chief Justice lifted from his desk a piece of black
cloth. It was the "Black Cap." One naturally thinks, from its name,
that this is a kind of headgear corresponding to the shape of a
man's head. On the contrary, it looks like a piece of plain limp
cloth, a remnant from a tailor's shop, about a foot square, which
the judge places on the top of his wig, letting it rest there quite
casually and perhaps at a rakish angle, the four corners hanging
down and the whole producing a somewhat ludicrous effect. Neither
judge, jury, nor audience, rose when sentence was about to be
pronounced, but all remained seated, except the prisoner, who stood
in dreary isolation, flanked by his stalwart guard, at his elevated
station in the dock. His Lordship, the dignity of whose
well-modulated voice contrasted strongly with his comical head
covering, slowly addressed the prisoner as follows:
[Illustration: THE SENTENCING OF DHINGRA]
"Madar Lal Dhingra, no words of mine can have the slightest effect
upon you, nor do I intend to say anything more than to point out to
you that you have been convicted upon the clearest possible evidence
of the brutal murder of an innocent man. The law enforces upon me to
pass the only possible sentence in such a case."
The sentence was that the prisoner should be hanged by the neck
until he was dead and be buried at the place of execution.
The Chaplain, in his robes, having somehow appeared at his
Lordship's side, added: "Amen. And may God have mercy upon your
soul."
Immediately after the dread words had been uttered, the prisoner
saluted the grave judge by a salaam, bringing the back of his hand
to his forehead, and said in a manner, the impertinence of which
deprived his words of dignity: "Thank you, my Lord. I am proud to
have the honor of laying down my life for my country. I do not
care."
Counsel representing the relatives of the condemned man then arose
and said that he was instructed to say that they viewed the crime
with the greatest abhorrence and wished to repudiate in the most
emphatic way the slightest sympathy with the views and motives which
had led to it, adding, on behalf of the father and family, that
there were no more loyal subjects of the Empire than themselves.
His Lordship replied that, while the course might seem somewhat
unusual, yet, having regard to the wicked attempt at justification
in some quarters, he was glad for what had been said on behalf of
the members of the family.
Dhingra and his guards then disappeared from the dock and in a few
moments the Lord Chief Justice and his escort, as well as the small
audience, had withdrawn, leaving the court room deserted except for
a newspaper reporter who was completing his notes. And so the drama
closed.
One was told that the youthful student would probably be hanged in a
fortnight from the following Tuesday--the trial having taken place
on a Friday--as ancient custom entitled the condemned man to three
Sundays of life after sentence.[B]
The spectacle of this little, lonely, misguided, yellow man,
prompted partly by fanaticism but largely by vanity, having braved
the whole power of mighty Britain in its proud capital to exploit
his chimerical views, caught in the meshes of a law he hardly
understood and hemmed in on all sides by its remorseless ministers,
was deeply interesting and somewhat calculated to excite sympathy,
until one's reason summoned the significance of the treacherous
murder and the picture of a fair Englishwoman going out into that
London night a widow.
While the result of this trial was justice, swift and unerring, to
an American observer it seemed odd and scarcely a fair practice for
a man to be tried for his life unrepresented by counsel learned in
the law. Although the case was plain, nevertheless, with great
respect for the admirable administration of the law in England, it
must be remarked that innocent persons,--who, even if not mentally
defective, may none the less be far from clever and who are
necessarily inexperienced, and may perhaps lack the intelligence or
means to retain counsel--ought not to be permitted by the court to
pit their wits against an able officer of the crown, the stake being
their own necks. To excuse the omission on the ground of the obvious
guilt and callousness of the prisoner, is not a satisfactory
solution, because it would involve prejudging the issue to be tried.
The proper and humane course is followed in the United States--the
appointment by the court of counsel for an undefended prisoner--for
it guards against the possibility of terrible mistakes.
From a technical point of view, the "leading" nature of the direct
examinations, so noticeable in English courts, was especially
conspicuous in that this was a murder trial where no departure from
the recognized customs would have been permitted. One's ear grows
accustomed to questions which put the answer into the mouth of the
witness and require merely a monosyllabic assent; and one waits in
vain for the objection which, at home, would follow such infractions
of the rules of evidence as thunder succeeds lightning. In the
Dhingra trial, for instance, the Attorney General did not scruple to
ask such questions as the following:
_Q_: "Did you happen to look through the doorway and into
the vestibule and see the prisoner speaking to Sir Curzon
Wyllie and did you see him raise his hand and fire four
shots into his face, the pistol almost touching him?"
_Q_: "Did you see Sir Curzon Wyllie collapse?"
_Q_: "Then, was there an interval of some seconds and then
more shots?" (These killed Dr. Lalcaca.)
Nor did he hesitate to put such questions to another witness as:
_Q_: "Did you hear the noise of four shots and did you then
look and see the prisoner and did you see him shoot again?"
A police officer was asked:
_Q_: "Did you examine the pistol and find one undischarged
cartridge only?"
_Q_: "Had the other pistol six undischarged cartridges in
it?"
_Q_: "Did you find two bullets similar to these in the
wall?"
To such an extent was leading carried in the Dhingra trial that
occasionally the answer did not follow the lead, thus:
_Q_: "Did you ask him 'What is your name and where do you
live?'"
_A_: "I can't remember what I asked him."
The probable reason for the great latitude in this regard is
the fact that apparently nothing in an English trial is a
surprise--except to the jury. The court and counsel, knowing
practically all the evidence beforehand, are extremely lenient.
Not only are leading questions common but also questions asking for
conclusions--not for facts from which the jury may draw their own
deductions. Thus, in the Dhingra trial, a doctor, who was sent for
after the murder, was asked: "Did the prisoner seem calm, quiet and
collected?" A plaintiff, perhaps, will be asked: "How came the
defendant to write this letter and what was its object? Did he
consider himself remiss?" Of course an American lawyer would
successfully contend that a letter speaks for itself, while a man's
estimate of his own position could only be put in evidence by
repeating his admissions in that regard--not by asking his opponent
how he regarded himself.
In favor of the practice of asking witnesses for conclusions--a
practice which many American lawyers have found invalidates parts of
testimony taken in England for use here--much may be said. To ask a
witness the mental attitude of a person, whom he heard talking a
year before--whether he was angry, or joking, for example--is to ask
an answerable question; but to require him to repeat the exact
words, is to demand an impossibility. In replying to either form of
inquiry the witness may be honest or the reverse, so that the
chances of intentional misinformation are equally balanced, but an
attempt at verbatim repetition nearly always requires, consciously
or unconsciously, a draft upon the imagination. It seems that our
rules of evidence in this regard might, perhaps, be cautiously
relaxed with advantage, to accord more with practical experience.
An English criminal trial is quick, simple and direct. Dhingra, for
example, whose crime was committed on July first, was sentenced on
the twenty-first of that month and was hanged on August
seventeenth--all in forty-seven days. The simplicity and directness
of such trials is due to the absence of irrelevant testimony and
imaginative arguments; these, counsel scarcely ever attempt to
introduce--so certain is their exclusion by the judge. Thus, the
real object of all punishment--its deterrent effect upon others--is
greatly enhanced because it is swift and sure. The public, moreover,
are usually spared the scandal and demoralizing effects of
prolonged, spectacular and sensational trials.
Until a short time ago any person convicted in an English court was
without appeal--the rulings and sentence of a single judge were
final--but this manifest injustice has lately been cured by a law
granting the right of appeal. It is too soon to estimate the effect
of this change, but the prediction may be ventured that the ancient
habit of regarding criminal judgments as conclusive, together with
the saving common sense which characterizes all English courts,
will probably prevent any radical departure from the present
methods, which have much to commend them.
Comparison with American conditions is most difficult because,
besides the United States courts extending for certain purposes over
the whole country, there are forty-six absolutely separate
sovereignties whose administration of criminal law, unless in
conflict with the Constitution of the United States, is as
independent of the rest of the world as that of an empire.
Consequently, while differences exist in methods and results, the
remarkable fact is that they are, upon the whole, so similar, when
only a common tradition and a fairly homogeneous public opinion
serve to keep them from drifting in diverse directions.
The administration of criminal law by the United States Courts deals
chiefly with the trial of persons accused of murder on the high
seas, counterfeiting, forgery, smuggling or postal frauds,
defaulting bank officials and, very lately, corporation managers
charged with favoritism in freight rates, or with the maintenance of
monopolies affecting interstate commerce. Throughout the length and
breadth of the land it is prompt, thoroughly dignified, vigorous and
fair; indeed, its excellence, as a whole, suffers little if at all
by comparison with the best English standards, which have been
perfected only by centuries of experience in the highly concentrated
population of a small Island.
But turning to the individual States, all comparisons must depend
upon locality. New York, the landing place, that threshold of real
America, with a predominating foreign population; the western
frontiers of civilization, and the South, with its peculiar racial
conditions, suffer by comparison with British standards far more
than would one of the orderly communities composing the greater part
of the Republic.
Recent mal-administration of criminal law in New York constitutes a
subject of national mortification, but the existence of this
sensitiveness is the best of reasons for believing that time will
bring an improvement. Unfortunately for the good name of the
country, foreigners do not comprehend, and can hardly be made to
appreciate, that the instances of private assassination in that city
followed by trials, which, whether owing to a vicious system of
practice or to judicial incompetency, excite the indignation and
ridicule of the world, are not typical of America but are
expressions of purely local and probably temporary conditions.
Foreign critics should be told that New York is not America, as
many of them assume, and that temporary and local lapses do not
prove a low standard. They may also be reminded, as showing that
human justice is fallible, that even in London if a man walks into
an Oxford Street department store, lies in wait for the proprietor
against whom he has a grievance and blows out his brains, although
he will be convicted in a trial occupying but three hours, yet the
Home Secretary may intervene and prevent his hanging, upon a
petition signed by tens of thousands of sentimentalists moved by the
rather illogical fact that his wife contemplates an addition to a
thus celebrated family.
In the far West, criminal practice is probably neither better nor
worse than in any other rough frontier of civilization where men
must largely rely upon their own resources, rather than upon the
government, for the protection of their lives and property.
Conditions in the South are so peculiar, owing to the sudden
elevation to a legal equality of an inferior race which is in the
majority, that no comparison with any other community is possible.
Without in the least condoning existing conditions, it may even be
said that lynching, unlike private assassination, involves some
degree of co-operation and is the expression of public, rather than
of individual, vengeance. The theatre of these outrages is,
moreover, sparsely settled, beyond large cities or centres of
education, and still retains some of the features of a frontier.
Throughout much the largest area, however, constituting the solid
civilization and containing the bulk of the population of this
immense country, no such conditions exist. On the contrary, crime is
met with that steady and impartial justice, inherited from England,
which neither partakes of the police oppression of continental
countries, nor lapses into the barbarism of the exceptional
localities above referred to. To commit deliberate murder in one of
the eastern States, such as Pennsylvania, or Massachusetts, or in
one of the great commonwealths of the middle West, means sure and
reasonably speedy hanging.
But, bearing in mind the difficulty of accurate comparisons between
such diversified sections and a compact unit like England, and
endeavoring to arrive at a general estimate, it must be conceded
that America, as a whole, has even more to learn from England's
criminal, than from her civil, courts.
FOOTNOTE:
[B] He was hanged three weeks from the following Tuesday.