bank where it had been cashed, and stated to the manager, with whom he
sought a private interview, that he had discovered that the bill which
he had discounted there, bearing to be the acceptance of James Laidlaw
to William Wotherspoon, was a forgery, and that he could lead proof to
show that Wotherspoon was the perpetrator of the crime. The matter being
immediately investigated, it was found that there were sufficient
grounds to institute a criminal action against Wotherspoon; and his
apprehension, as already described, was the result.
Wotherspoon, in the meantime, however, denied all knowledge of the bill,
said he had no transactions whatever with Lorimer or Laidlaw, and that
he did not know the latter, even by sight, or in any other way; and in
this utter denial he remained firm and consistent to the last, to the
great perplexity of his own counsel, who, while he could not resist the
weight of evidence which was mustered against his client, and which
indeed seemed conclusive, was yet staggered by the cool and pertinacious
manner in which Wotherspoon maintained and insisted on his innocence.
In due time the trial of the latter, for the forgery, came on before the
High Court of Justiciary, when a long and careful investigation of the
case was entered into.
The first witness called by the public prosecutor was Lorimer, who
deposed that the bill had been paid over to him by Wotherspoon, for
professional services rendered the latter at the time of his bankruptcy.
That it was Wotherspoon's handwriting. That Wotherspoon had stated that
he had obtained the bill from Laidlaw, in payment of an account for
goods with which he had furnished him. That he had discovered the
forgery, by having asked Laidlaw, whom he accidentally met some time
after, if he had ever had any dealings with Wotherspoon? when the former
said he never had, and knew nothing about him. Had, from some
circumstances which subsequently occurred, suspected that the bill was a
forgery; particularly from Wotherspoon saying, that he would be obliged
to retire it himself, in the first instance, as Laidlaw had intimated to
him that he could not meet it when due. Witness, knowing Laidlaw
to be a wealthy man, thought this very unlikely, and hence his
suspicions--suspicions, he said, which were greatly increased by a
circumstance which he begged permission to state to the court. Witness
then proceeded to relate the expression used by Mr Wotherspoon on the
occasion of his dining with the commercial traveller, which, he said,
happening to be in an adjoining apartment, he had overheard.
This witness was followed by Laidlaw, the alleged accepter of the bill,
who swore that the signature attached to it was not his handwriting;
and, in this assertion, he was supported by other evidence; adding, that
he had no knowledge whatever of the prisoner, and had never had any
transactions with him.
James Anderson, Wotherspoon's shopman, was next called; and when asked
if the bill, which was shown him, was his master's handwriting,
answered, that he could not say--that it was certainly very like;
thought, however, on the whole, that it was not, but would not swear to
this. Asked if he ever saw or knew Lorimer to be employed by his master;
said, he did not. Asked, if he meant that he never was employed by him,
or merely that such a circumstance did not consist with his knowledge?
Answered, that it did not consist with his knowledge; but allowed that
Lorimer might have been employed by the prisoner without his knowing it.
A person of the name of Andrew Hislop was next put into the witness-box,
who swore that Wotherspoon had told him that he had settled with
Lorimer, and that he had given him an indorsed bill, in payment of his
account; that he had said, at the same time, that the bill was the
acceptance of Laidlaw, and was in payment of an account for goods which
the prisoner had furnished him.
James Bryce, stabler and innkeeper, Grassmarket, Edinburgh, in whose
house the transaction, which was the subject of investigation, was said
to have taken place, next deponed that Lorimer, whom he knew very well,
and Mr Wotherspoon, the prisoner at the bar, came to his house on the
evening of the 14th September; and that he, being asked to sit down at
table with them, saw Mr Wotherspoon indorse over a bill to Mr Lorimer,
saying, at the same time, that he believed that would about clear scores
between them. This witness's evidence was corroborated by that of his
wife, who had been also asked to join the party, she being well
acquainted with Lorimer, who used to frequent the house when he resided
in Edinburgh.
As these two witnesses were of highly respectable character, their
evidence was held by the court to be conclusive against the prisoner.
The latter, in his defence by his counsel, admitted that he had been in
Edinburgh on the day condescended on by the witnesses who had just been
examined, but denied that he had ever been in their house, or knew
anything at all about them. Denied that he had ever made use of the
language, or anything at all like it, attributed to him by Hislop;
denied that he ever had employed Lorimer in any way, or ever was owing
him a farthing. Admitted that he had used the expressions attributed to
him by Lorimer on the occasion condescended on, and acknowledged their
impropriety; but said they were spoken merely in jest, and in a spirit
of levity, excited by the wine he had drank.
For the rest, the prisoner had only the general respectability of his
character to support him, of which he produced abundant proof to the
court, and a simple denial of all that had been alleged against him; but
this, of course, was of little avail in the face of the direct and
positive evidence of his guilt which had been adduced.
The difficulties, too, in which Wotherspoon was known to be at the time
had a powerful influence in strengthening the belief of his guilt; while
it was observed that the imprudent language used by the prisoner, when
in company with the commercial traveller, and which was detailed by
Lorimer, made a singularly strong and unfavourable impression on the
court--an impression which was but little affected by the apology for,
and explanation of it, that had been given.
In short, no doubt remained on the minds of any one present that
Wotherspoon was guilty of the crime charged against him; and the jury,
in conformity with their own and the general impression, found the libel
proven, without retiring from the box; and the unfortunate man was
sentenced to suffer death: his counsel having in vain stated, that, from
the steadiness, simplicity, and consistency of all the prisoner's
answers to his interrogatories, put to him while in prison, he was all
but entirely convinced of his innocence. "There was a mystery in the
case," he said, "which he could not solve; but a day of retribution was
coming," he added, "when the cause would be tried over again, and before
a Judge from whom nothing could be concealed, and on whom no plot,
however well contrived, could impose."
Wotherspoon heard the terrible judgment pronounced on him with the
utmost composure, and persevered in asserting his innocence, both to his
counsel and to those of his friends who subsequently visited him in
prison. On these last, his declarations produced various effects. Some
of them--those who knew him--believed that he had met with foul play
from some quarter or another; and their suspicions fell on Lorimer,
whose character was well known to them: but there was nothing in the
whole case which could warrant them in openly asserting that he had
played the villain.
By others, again, Wotherspoon's declarations of innocence were looked
upon as proceeding from the natural shame of crime. They pitied the
unhappy man sincerely; but, however high might have been their opinion
formerly of his integrity, they had no doubt that the pressure of
necessitous circumstances had broken down his principles, and that he
was guilty of the forgery. And this last was the opinion generally
entertained regarding the convict by the public at large; while the
first was the most prevalent in the district from which Wotherspoon
came, and where he was, of course, best known.
With regard to Lorimer, the directors of the bank in which the forged
bill had been discounted were so pleased with his activity and diligence
in detecting and proving the forgery, that they not only forgave him the
amount of it--for which he was liable as an indorser--but presented him
with a handsome gratuity over and above, on the conviction of the
offender.
To return to Wotherspoon. Two or three days after his trial and
condemnation, the session closed, and the gentleman, a Mr Moffat, who
had been employed as his counsel, went to the country to spend a few
days at a friend's residence there. On the first day of his arrival, and
within an hour after that occurrence, Mr Moffat was invited by his host
to take a stroll in the garden, to see some improvement he was then
making on it.
At the moment that Mr Moffat and his friend entered the garden, there
were two men employed in delving a piece of ground at a little distance
from the gate, one of whom, on perceiving the Edinburgh lawyer, hastily
flung down his spade, and ran off. Somewhat surprised at this
circumstance, Mr Porteous, Mr Moffat's entertainer, inquired of the
fugitive's fellow-workman, who was his principal gardener, what it
meant.
The man smiled, and said that he believed he did not care to be seen by
that gentleman there, pointing to Mr Moffat.
"By me!--afraid to be seen by me!" said the latter, in astonishment.
"What can that mean? What's the man's name?"
"His name is Hislop, sir--Andrew Hislop," replied the gardener. "I
believe he was witness in some case before the Court of Justiciary
lately."
"Right, right!" said Mr Moffat, already a good deal excited by the
occurrence. "I thought I recollected the fellow, even from the momentary
glance I had of him. Has he ever made any remark to you regarding that
trial?" inquired Moffat.
"Why, nothing more, sir, than saying, that it is an ugly job; and that,
if he had not been very firm, perhaps somebody else would have swung in
place of Wotherspoon."
"Ay, indeed," exclaimed Mr Moffat, struggling hard to conceal the
emotion he felt on this first glimmering of a new light on Wotherspoon's
case being thus suddenly and most unexpectedly presented to him, and
which was so much in accordance with certain preconceived notions of his
own regarding that unfortunate case.
"And just now!" said Mr Moffat, eagerly. "What did he say just now,
before he left you? Did he say anything?"
"He said, sir, as I told you before, he did not care to meet with you
again, lest you should bother him with questions."
"Very well, very well--that'll do, my man," replied Mr Moffat, who now
felt convinced that he had got a clue to the mystery which had puzzled
him so much in Wotherspoon's case. "That'll do," he said, at the same
time leading away his friend, to whom he related the whole circumstances
of the trial, mentioned his suspicions, and begged his co-operation--Mr
Porteous being a justice of peace--in securing Hislop. This co-operation
was readily conceded; and so effectively and promptly, that in less than
two hours Hislop was apprehended, although he had got a good many miles
away--for his flight had not been a temporary but a final one; and in
less than two hours more he was hard and fast in the Heart of
Mid-Lothian.
On the day after his apprehension, Hislop was examined before the
sheriff--Mr Moffat, who had gone to town on purpose, being also
present--when, either through fear of punishment, which he hoped to
avert by his disclosures, or from the impulses of an awakened
conscience, he told a tale of villany, which--whether the amazing
complexity of its character be considered, the singular dexterity with
which it was managed, or the astounding depravity which marked it--will
scarcely be found paralleled, it is believed, in the annals of crime.
Hislop deponed, in the first place, that Lorimer, not Wotherspoon, was
the actual forger of the bill, and that he had seen him write it. That
he, Hislop, hired by Lorimer, had personated Wotherspoon in Bryce's
house, on the occasion to which the evidence of that witness and his
wife referred; and here Hislop called on Mr Moffat to mark the strong
resemblance, both in person and countenance, that existed between
himself and Wotherspoon; which, now that his attention was called to it,
Mr Moffat perceived to be indeed singularly striking.
The deponent further stated, that Lorimer had promised him L10 for his
trouble, but had paid him with five. That Wotherspoon had never used the
expressions to him that he had attributed to him, when giving evidence
on the trial of the former. Lastly, he declared that Lorimer had
frequently said to him, in reference at once to the plot against
Wotherspoon, and to Wotherspoon himself, "that he would be revenged on
the object of his deadly hatred, and would put fifty pounds in his
pocket besides."
On the strength of this deposition, Lorimer was now apprehended, while a
respite was obtained for Wotherspoon; and the trial of the former, for
the identical crime for which the latter was under sentence of death,
soon after followed.
On this trial, the deposition of Hislop was, through the activity of
Wotherspoon's counsel, corroborated in every particular, and the whole
villany laid bare to open day.
The general result of the evidence against Lorimer showed that he had
selected Hislop to be an instrument of his atrocious designs chiefly on
account of his remarkable resemblance to Wotherspoon. That, still
further to heighten this deception, so as to deceive Bryce and his wife,
should they, as he expected they would, be confronted with
Wotherspoon--or foreseeing, in short, exactly what had happened with
regard to him--he had been at the trouble and expense of procuring for
Hislop a wig of exactly the same description with that worn by
Wotherspoon, and which was of rather a peculiar make and colour. That he
had selected a day for coming to Edinburgh, to execute that part of the
plot which was performed in Bryce's house, when he knew that Wotherspoon
was also in the city; and thus his villanous design was complete in all
its parts, and could only have been discovered through the treachery of
Hislop. His assertions were all positive, while Wotherspoon's were
necessarily all negative; and it is well known how much easier it is to
prove than to disprove; and of this Lorimer had the full advantage in
the case of the prosecution of the former.
At the desire of the Lord Advocate, the wig which Mr Wotherspoon wore
was placed on Hislop's head in court, the former being also present,
when Bryce and his wife were called in, and asked to say which of the
two was the Mr Wotherspoon they had seen with Lorimer; when both
without hesitation and at once, pointed out Hislop; that difference in
look and appearance--for, however like two persons may be, some
difference between them there always is--being evident, when they were
seen together under the circumstances just mentioned, which was scarcely
to be detected when they were seen separately by those who were not
previously acquainted with them individually and personally: and thus
the most fatal evidence of all that had been adduced against Wotherspoon
was in one instant rendered not only innocuous to him, but destructive
to his persecutor.
The result of Lorimer's trial will be foreseen by the reader. He was
condemned to death, and hanged in the Grassmarket of Edinburgh; while
Wotherspoon was dismissed from the bar with an unblemished character,
and with the sympathy of the whole court and the public at large, for
his unmerited sufferings.
Wotherspoon again became a wealthy man, and saw many happy years
afterwards; but often said that he would never again speak of forging
bills, as Lorimer had declared, after he was condemned to death, that it
was his having overheard his idle, but unguarded language on this
subject in the inn, that had suggested to him the plot which had so
nearly accomplished his destruction.
THE SURGEON'S TALES.
THE THREE LETTERS.
It is a difficult question how far doctors ought voluntarily to
interfere in matters of wills. One-half of our profession advocate the
moral necessity and propriety of not only putting their patients in such
a state of knowledge as to their bodily condition, as to bring out by
_inference_ the prudence of arranging their temporal affairs, but of
adding suggestions and recommendations to the effect of inducing them to
perform this indispensable duty, before the grim tyrant's advances may
render it impossible. The other half smile at their bolder and more
philanthropic brethren, as fools who interfere with what lies beyond
their province, and limit their statements or advice to those necessary
replies which are called for by the questions of the patients
themselves. Upon all such points, where the truth is sought for _in
partibus extremis_, much has been said, and will be said; and perhaps a
thousand years hence the profession and the public may be as far from
any simple designative proposition of the real moral truth of the
subjects, as they are at present. The fault lies in men's minds, which,
seeking eternally to generalise, lose sight of the grand fact in
nature--that, as in botany she defies man in his attempts at a natural
classification, so, in moral states and conditions of society, she
equally defies him to manufacture verbal rules for the regulation of
individuals or masses under all existing circumstances. For my part, I
have always avoided these verbose questions; and, though I have
practised for many years, I have never experienced any difficulty in so
regulating my statements and advices to dying patients, as might best
suit their temporal interests of health and wealth, without losing sight
of what was due to higher and more sacred feelings and prospects of a
world to come. To tell some patients that they are dying would be to
commit a species of homicide; to conceal from them the state of their
bodies, and their approaching dissolution, may be to be accessory to
worldly wrongs, to be felt for generations, and to that condemnation
that is to be felt for ever; but between those extremes there ranges a
wide field for the workings of prudence, an ample space for the exercise
of a noble and manly virtue, and scope enough and to spare for the
exhibition of all those elevated feelings of good hearts that add grace
and beauty to the possessors, and are displayed for the benefit of our
fellow-creatures. No man has so much in his power for the benefit of
mankind as a medical practitioner; and proud am I to say, that no man,
speaking generally, more seldom loses the opportunity of turning it to
the proper account. These observations are called forth by a case that,
some time ago, came under my observation, where the hand of a ruling
Providence spurned the schemes of weak mortals, and took the regulation
of a dying person's affairs out of her hands, in a manner as strange as
it is dark and mysterious.
Mrs Germain, a widow lady of fortune, sent her niece, a young woman
about twenty-three years of age, to request that I would visit her in my
professional capacity. The case, I was told, was not an urgent one, and
I might call at any time during the course of the day, as suited my
arrangements and leisure. I went, accordingly, in a short time
afterwards, and was introduced into a very splendid drawing-room, where
I observed an elderly lady, whom I took to be Mrs Germain herself,
reclining on a damask-covered couch, with the young person who had
waited on me sitting on a footstool by her side. The two individuals
were interesting in many respects, even at first sight. There was a
singular elegance of taste displayed in the dress, though a dishabille,
of the elderly one, which, co-operating with a set of features at one
time undoubtedly handsome, and now noble and intellectual, bespoke the
lady by birth, and one that had cultivated the art of making the body
and the mind reflect on each other mutual beauty and adornment. The
young one, whom I had seen before, but under the shade of a jealous
veil, was one of those _blondines_ so highly prized in French
novel-writing, and seldom seen in our country in the perfection of
contrast, of dark piercing eyes and light auburn tresses, so frequently
seen in France. She was also very elegantly attired; and the graceful
manner in which she reclined, with her left arm on the side of the
couch, and her right holding a richly-gilt book, from which she had been
reading to her aunt, produced an effect which an artist or a lover would
not have been slow to acknowledge. On a nearer approach, I soon
detected, in the composed and bland features of the elder, the delicate,
yet certain, touch of the finger of some latent, lurking disease; which,
by draining the blood from the lips, blanching the lower confines of the
temples, and depressing the globes of the eyes, had given a melancholy
premonition of serious changes about to be effected in vital parts.
Having been introduced by the niece, who rose and handed me a chair, I
sat down by the side of the couch, and received an account of the
symptoms which had exhibited themselves to the invalid; from which I
learned that she had been ailing for several months, but that no
indications of serious disease having been detected by her, she had put
off her application for medical advice from day to day, in the hope of
getting better. How little did she know that, during all that time, she
had been unconsciously, yet progressively, travelling the dark path of
death!--how little did she now know, as she lay there, arrayed in the
tasteful and costly decorations of the body--her face clothed with the
composure of easy indolence and the expression of noble pride, and her
soft languid eye lighted up with the hope of a long course of happiness
supplied from the resources of wealth--that death was busy with the
secret parts of her heart! I understood her complaint at the first
description of her symptoms--an aneurism or tumour in the region of the
fountain of life, which would burst in an instant, and precipitate her
in another moment into eternity.
Her complaint defies all the efforts of our profession, and it is,
moreover, one which never can with propriety be explained to a patient,
because there are few that have firmness enough to enable them to bear
up under the certainty of an instantaneous dissolution, and the
uncertainty of the dread moment. I therefore exercised that allowable
and humane dissimulation which the searching eyes of patients, or that
of friends, render necessary for their freedom and relief from fears
that would often kill as certainly as the disease which generates them.
This might not have been called for by any vigilance on the part of Mrs
Germain to read my face; she felt no apprehension, and put no questions
as to what I conceived to be the nature of her complaint. But I saw the
dark eyes of the niece fixed upon my countenance with a searching
intensity of look and solicitude of expression, which showed that, if
she could, she would have read the most secret thoughts of my heart.
There was affection deep and pure in that look, and the fear of the
bursting asunder of ties more dear to her than her own existence. She
continued her gaze silently, but thoughtfully; and the conversation of
her aunt, which, notwithstanding her weakness, was spirited and buoyant,
touching many indifferent topics lightly, and with the ease and grace of
high breeding and fine cultivated fancy, struck her ear without carrying
a meaning to her mind. I indulged the confidence of the patient, and
witnessed, with feelings which we only can know, the delusive spirit of
life flapping his golden-coloured wings round the heart whose citadel
was already occupied by the demon of death. Such scenes are familiar to
us; but there was something in this different from any I had yet
witnessed: and I took my departure with an assumed placidity of look,
while the inmost recesses of my spirit were convulsed by the laugh of
the patient, and the silent-brooding and fearful-searching eye of that
angelic being, whose existence seemed to be wound up in her friend.