guilt. What was done on the receipt of the letter from Maine? This
letter was signed by Charles Grant, Jr., a person not known to either of
the Knapps, nor was it known to them that any other person beside the
Crowninshields knew of the conspiracy. This letter, by the accidental
omission of the word Jr., fell into the hands of the father, when
intended for the son. The father carried it to Wenham, where both the
sons were. They both read it. Fix your eye steadily on this part of the
_circumstantial stuff_ which is in the case, and see what can be made of
it. This was shown to the two brothers on Saturday, the 15th of May.
Neither of them knew Palmer. And if they had known him, they could not
have known him to have been the writer of this letter. It was mysterious
to them how any one at Belfast could have had knowledge of this affair.
Their conscious guilt prevented due circumspection. They did not see the
bearing of its publication. They advised their father to carry it to the
Committee of Vigilance, and it was so carried. On the Sunday following,
Joseph began to think there might be something in it. Perhaps, in the
mean time, he had seen one of the Crowninshields. He was apprehensive
that they might be suspected; he was anxious to turn attention from
their family. What course did he adopt to effect this? He addressed one
letter, with a false name, to Mr. White, and another to the Committee;
and to complete the climax of his folly, he signed the letter addressed
to the Committee, "Grant," the same name as that which was signed to the
letter received from Belfast. It was in the knowledge of the Committee,
that no person but the Knapps had seen this letter from Belfast; and
that no other person knew its signature. It therefore must have been
irresistibly plain to them that one of the Knapps was the writer of the
letter received by the Committee, charging the murder on Mr. White. Add
to this the fact of its having been dated at Lynn, and mailed at Salem
four days after it was dated, and who could doubt respecting it? Have
you ever read or known of folly equal to this? Can you conceive of crime
more odious and abominable? Merely to explain the apparent mysteries of
the letter from Palmer, they excite the basest suspicions against a man,
whom, if they were innocent, they had no reason to believe guilty; and
whom, if they were guilty, they most certainly knew to be innocent.
Could they have adopted a more direct method of exposing their own
infamy? The letter to the Committee has intrinsic marks of a knowledge
of this transaction. It tells the _time_ and the _manner_ in which the
murder was committed. Every line speaks the writer's condemnation. In
attempting to divert attention from his family, and to charge the guilt
upon another, he indelibly fixes it upon himself.
Joseph Knapp requested Allen to put these letters into the post-office,
because, said he, "I wish to nip this silly affair in the bud." If this
were not the order of an overruling Providence, I should say that it was
the silliest piece of folly that was ever practised. Mark the destiny of
crime. It is ever obliged to resort to such subterfuges; it trembles in
the broad light; it betrays itself in seeking concealment. He alone
walks safely who walks uprightly. Who for a moment can read these
letters and doubt of Joseph Knapp's guilt? The constitution of nature is
made to inform against him. There is no corner dark enough to conceal
him. There is no turnpike-road broad enough or smooth enough for a man
so guilty to walk in without stumbling. Every step proclaims his secret
to every passenger. His own acts come out to fix his guilt. In
attempting to charge another with his own crime, he writes his own
confession. To do away the effect of Palmer's letter, signed Grant, he
writes a letter himself and affixes to it the name of Grant. He writes
in a disguised hand; but could it happen that the same Grant should be
in Salem that was at Belfast? This has brought the whole thing out.
Evidently he did it, because he has adopted the same style. Evidently he
did it, because he speaks of the price of blood, and of other
circumstances connected with the murder, that no one but a conspirator
could have known.
Palmer says he made a visit to the Crowninshields, on the 9th of April.
George then asked him whether he had heard of the murder. Richard
inquired whether he had heard the music at Salem. They said that they
were suspected, that a committee had been appointed to search houses;
and that they had melted up the dagger, the day after the murder,
because it would be a suspicious circumstance to have it found in their
possession. Now this committee was not appointed, in fact, until Friday
evening. But this proves nothing against Palmer; it does not prove that
George did not tell him so; it only proves that he gave a false reason
for a fact. They had heard that they were suspected; how could they have
heard this, unless it were from the whisperings of their own
consciences? Surely this rumor was not then public.
About the 27th of April, another attempt was made by the Knapps to give
a direction to public suspicion. They reported themselves to have been
robbed, in passing from Salem to Wenham, near Wenham Pond. They came to
Salem and stated the particulars of the adventure. They described
persons, their dress, size, and appearance, who had been suspected of
the murder. They would have it understood that the community was
infested by a band of ruffians, and that they themselves were the
particular objects of their vengeance. Now this turns out to be all
fictitious, all false. Can you conceive of any thing more enormous, any
wickedness greater, than the circulation of such reports? than the
allegation of crimes, if committed, capital? If no such crime had been
committed, then it reacts with double force upon themselves, and goes
very far to show their guilt. How did they conduct themselves on this
occasion? Did they make hue and cry? Did they give information that they
had been assaulted that night at Wenham? No such thing. They rested
quietly that night; they waited to be called on for the particulars of
their adventure; they made no attempt to arrest the offenders; this was
not their object. They were content to fill the thousand mouths of
rumor, to spread abroad false reports, to divert the attention of the
public from themselves; for they thought every man suspected them,
because they knew they ought to be suspected.
The manner in which the compensation for this murder was paid is a
circumstance worthy of consideration. By examining the facts and dates,
it will satisfactorily appear that Joseph Knapp paid a sum of money to
Richard Crowninshield, in five-franc pieces, on the 24th of April. On
the 21st of April, Joseph Knapp received five hundred five-franc pieces,
as the proceeds of an adventure at sea. The remainder of this species of
currency that came home in the vessel was deposited in a bank at Salem.
On Saturday, the 24th of April, Frank and Richard rode to Wenham. They
were there with Joseph an hour or more, and appeared to be negotiating
private business. Richard continued in the chaise; Joseph came to the
chaise and conversed with him. These facts are proved by Hart and
Leighton, and by Osborn's books. On Saturday evening, about this time,
Richard Crowninshield is proved, by Lummus, to have been at Wenham, with
another person whose appearance corresponds with Frank's. Can any one
doubt this being the same evening? What had Richard Crowninshield to do
at Wenham, with Joseph, unless it were this business? He was there
before the murder; he was there after the murder; he was there
clandestinely, unwilling to be seen. If it were not upon this business,
let it be told what it was for. Joseph Knapp could explain it; Frank
Knapp might explain it. But they do not explain it; and the inference is
against them.
Immediately after this, Richard passes five-franc pieces; on the same
evening, one to Lummus, five to Palmer; and near this time George passes
three or four in Salem. Here are nine of these pieces passed by them in
four days; this is extraordinary. It is an unusual currency; in ordinary
business, few men would pass nine such pieces in the course of a year.
If they were not received in this way, why not explain how they came by
them? Money was not so flush in their pockets that they could not tell
whence it came, if it honestly came there. It is extremely important to
them to explain whence this money came, and they would do it if they
could. If, then, the price of blood was paid at this time, in the
presence and with the knowledge of this defendant, does not this prove
him to have been connected with this conspiracy?
Observe, also, the effect on the mind of Richard of Palmer's being
arrested and committed to prison; the various efforts he makes to
discover the fact; the lowering, through the crevices of the rock, the
pencil and paper for him to write upon; the sending two lines of poetry,
with the request that he would return the corresponding lines; the
shrill and peculiar whistle; the inimitable exclamations of "Palmer!
Palmer! Palmer!" All these things prove how great was his alarm; they
corroborate Palmer's story, and tend to establish the conspiracy.
Joseph Knapp had a part to act in this matter. He must have opened the
window, and secreted the key; he had free access to every part of the
house; he was accustomed to visit there; he went in and out at his
pleasure; he could do this without being suspected. He is proved to have
been there the Saturday preceding.
If all these things, taken in connection, do not prove that Captain
White was murdered in pursuance of a conspiracy, then the case is at an
end.
Savary's testimony is wholly unexpected. He was called for a different
purpose. When asked who the person was that he saw come out of Captain
White's yard between three and four o'clock in the morning, he answered,
Frank Knapp. It is not clear that this is not true. There may be many
circumstances of importance connected with this, though we believe the
murder to have been committed between ten and eleven o'clock. The letter
to Dr. Barstow states it to have been done about eleven o'clock; it
states it to have been done with a blow on the head, from a weapon
loaded with lead. Here is too great a correspondence with the reality
not to have some meaning in it. Dr. Peirson was always of the opinion,
that the two classes of wounds were made with different instruments, and
by different hands. It is possible that one class was inflicted at one
time, and the other at another. It is possible that on the last visit
the pulse might not have entirely ceased to beat, and then the finishing
stroke was given. It is said, that, when the body was discovered, some
of the wounds wept, while the others did not. They may have been
inflicted from mere wantonness. It was known that Captain White was
accustomed to keep specie by him in his chamber; this perhaps may
explain the last visit. It is proved, that this defendant was in the
habit of retiring to bed, and leaving it afterwards, without the
knowledge of his family; perhaps he did so on this occasion. We see no
reason to doubt the fact; and it does not shake our belief that the
murder was committed early in the night.
What are the probabilities as to the time of the murder? Mr. White was
an aged man; he usually retired to bed at about half-past nine. He slept
soundest in the early part of the night; usually awoke in the middle and
latter part; and his habits were perfectly well known. When would
persons, with a knowledge of these facts, be most likely to approach
him? Most certainly, in the first hour of his sleep. This would be the
safest time. If seen then going to or from the house, the appearance
would be least suspicious. The earlier hour would then have been most
probably selected.
Gentlemen, I shall dwell no longer on the evidence which tends to prove
that there was a conspiracy, and that the prisoner was a conspirator.
All the circumstances concur to make out this point. Not only Palmer
swears to it, in effect, and Leighton, but Allen mainly supports Palmer,
and Osborn's books lend confirmation, so far as possible, from such a
source. Palmer is contradicted in nothing, either by any other witness,
or any proved circumstance or occurrence. Whatever could be expected to
support him does support him. All the evidence clearly manifests, I
think, that there was a conspiracy; that it originated with Joseph
Knapp; that defendant became a party to it, and was one of its
conductors, from first to last. One of the most powerful circumstances
is Palmer's letter from Belfast. The amount of this is a direct charge
on the Knapps of the authorship of this murder. How did they treat this
charge; like honest men, or like guilty men? We have seen how it was
treated. Joseph Knapp fabricated letters, charging another person, and
caused them to be put into the post-office.
I shall now proceed on the supposition, that it is proved that there was
a conspiracy to murder Mr. White, and that the prisoner was party to it.
The second and the material inquiry is, Was the prisoner present at the
murder, aiding and abetting therein?
This leads to the legal question in the case. What does the law mean,
when it says, that, in order to charge him as a principal, "he must be
present aiding and abetting in the murder"?
In the language of the late Chief Justice, "It is not required that the
abettor shall be actually upon the spot when the murder is committed, or
even in sight of the more immediate perpetrator of the victim, to make
him a principal. If he be at a distance, co-operating in the act, by
watching to prevent relief, or to give an alarm, or to assist his
confederate in escape, having knowledge of the purpose and object of the
assassin, this in the eye of the law is being present, aiding and
abetting, so as to make him a principal in the murder."
"If he be at a distance co-operating." This is not a distance to be
measured by feet or rods; if the intent to lend aid combine with a
knowledge that the murder is to be committed, and the person so
intending be so situate that he can by any possibility lend this aid in
any manner, then he is present in legal contemplation. He need not lend
any actual aid; to be ready to assist is assisting.
There are two sorts of murder; the distinction between them it is of
essential importance to bear in mind: 1. Murder in an affray, or upon
sudden and unexpected provocation. 2. Murder secretly, with a
deliberate, predetermined intention to commit the crime. Under the first
class, the question usually is, whether the offence be murder or
manslaughter, in the person who commits the deed. Under the second
class, it is often a question whether others than he who actually did
the deed were present, aiding and assisting therein. Offences of this
kind ordinarily happen when there is nobody present except those who go
on the same design. If a riot should happen in the court-house, and one
should kill another, this may be murder, or it may not, according to the
intention with which it was done; which is always matter of fact, to be
collected from the circumstances at the time. But in secret murders,
premeditated and determined on, there can be no doubt of the murderous
intention; there can be no doubt, if a person be present, knowing a
murder is to be done, of his concurring in the act. His being there is a
proof of his intent to aid and abet; else, why is he there?
It has been contended, that proof must be given that the person accused
did actually afford aid, did lend a hand in the murder itself; and
without this proof, although he may be near by, he may be presumed to be
there for an innocent purpose; he may have crept silently there to hear
the news, or from mere curiosity to see what was going on.[2]
Preposterous, absurd! Such an idea shocks all common sense. A man is
found to be a conspirator to commit a murder; he has planned it; he has
assisted in arranging the time, the place and the means; and he is found
in the place, and at the time, and yet it is suggested that he might
have been there, not for co-operation and concurrence, but from
curiosity! Such an argument deserves no answer. It would be difficult to
give it one, in decorous terms. Is it not to be taken for granted, that
a man seeks to accomplish his own purposes? When he has planned a
murder, and is present at its execution, is he there to forward or to
thwart his own design? is he there to assist, or there to prevent? But
"Curiosity"! He may be there from mere "curiosity"! Curiosity to witness
the success of the execution of his own plan of murder! The very walls
of a court-house ought not to stand, the ploughshare should run through
the ground it stands on, where such an argument could find
toleration.[3]
It is not necessary that the abettor should actually lend a hand, that
he should take a part in the act itself; if he be present ready to
assist, that is assisting. Some of the doctrines advanced would acquit
the defendant, though he had gone to the bedchamber of the deceased,
though he had been standing by when the assassin gave the blow. This is
the argument we have heard to-day.
The court here said, they did not so understand the argument of the
counsel for defendant. Mr. Dexter said, "The intent and power alone
must co-operate."
No doubt the law is, that being ready to assist is assisting, if the
party has the power to assist, in case of need. It is so stated by
Foster, who is a high authority. "If A happeneth to be present at a
murder, for instance, and taketh no part in it, nor endeavoreth to
prevent it, nor apprehendeth the murderer, nor levyeth hue and cry after
him, this strange behavior of his, though highly criminal, will not of
itself render him either principal or accessory." "But if a fact
amounting to murder should be committed in prosecution of some unlawful
purpose, though it were but a bare trespass, to which A in the case last
stated had consented, and he had gone in order to give assistance, if
need were, for carrying it into execution, this would have amounted to
murder in him, and in every person present and joining with him." "If
the fact was committed in prosecution of the original purpose which was
unlawful, the whole party will be involved in the guilt of him who gave
the blow. For in combinations of this kind, the mortal stroke, though
given by one of the party, is considered in the eye of the law, and of
sound reason too, as given by every individual present and abetting. The
person actually giving the stroke is no more than the hand or instrument
by which the others strike." The author, in speaking of being present,
means actual presence; not actual in opposition to constructive, for the
law knows no such distinction. There is but one presence, and this is
the situation from which aid, or supposed aid, may be rendered. The law
does not say where the person is to go, or how near he is to go, but
that he must be where he may give assistance, or where the perpetrator
may believe that he may be assisted by him. Suppose that he is
acquainted with the design of the murderer, and has a knowledge of the
time when it is to be carried into effect, and goes out with a view to
render assistance, if need be; why, then, even though the murderer does
not know of this, the person so going out will be an abettor in the
murder.
It is contended that the prisoner at the bar could not be a principal,
he being in Brown Street, because he could not there render assistance;
and you are called upon to determine this case, according as you may be
of opinion whether Brown Street was, or was not, a suitable, convenient,
well-chosen place to aid in this murder. This is not the true question.
The inquiry is not whether you would have selected this place in
preference to all others, or whether you would have selected it at all.
If the parties chose it, why should we doubt about it? How do we know
the use they intended to make of it, or the kind of aid that he was to
afford by being there? The question for you to consider is, Did the
defendant go into Brown Street in aid of this murder? Did he go there by
agreement, by appointment with the perpetrator?[4] If so, every thing
else follows. The main thing, indeed the only thing, is to inquire
whether he was in Brown Street by appointment with Richard
Crowninshield. It might be to keep general watch; to observe the lights,
and advise as to time of access; to meet the murderer on his return, to
advise him as to his escape; to examine his clothes, to see if any marks
of blood were upon them; to furnish exchange of clothes, or new
disguise, if necessary; to tell him through what streets he could safely
retreat, or whether he could deposit the club in the place designed; or
it might be without any distinct object, but merely to afford that
encouragement which would proceed from Richard Crowninshield's
consciousness that he was near. It is of no consequence whether, in your
opinion, the place was well chosen or not, to afford aid; if it was so
chosen, if it was by appointment that he was there, it is enough.
Suppose Richard Crowninshield, when applied to to commit the murder, had
said, "I won't do it unless there can be some one near by to favor my
escape; I won't go unless you will stay in Brown Street." Upon the
gentleman's argument, he would not be an aider and abettor in the
murder, because the place was not well chosen; though it is apparent
that the being in the place chosen was a condition, without which the
murder would never have happened.
You are to consider the defendant as one in the league, in the
combination to commit the murder. If he was there by appointment with
the perpetrator, he is an abettor. The concurrence of the perpetrator in
his being there is proved by the previous evidence of the conspiracy. If
Richard Crowninshield, for any purpose whatsoever, made it a condition
of the agreement, that Frank Knapp should stand as backer, then Frank
Knapp was an aider and abettor; no matter what the aid was, or what sort
it was, or degree, be it ever so little; even if it were to judge of the
hour when it was best to go, or to see when the lights were
extinguished, or to give an alarm if any one approached. Who better
calculated to judge of these things than the murderer himself? and if he
so determined them, that is sufficient.
Now as to the facts. Frank Knapp knew that the murder was that night to
be committed; he was one of the conspirators, he knew the object, he
knew the time. He had that day been to Wenham to see Joseph, and
probably to Danvers to see Richard Crowninshield, for he kept his
motions secret. He had that day hired a horse and chaise of Osborn, and
attempted to conceal the purpose for which it was used; he had
intentionally left the _place_ and the _price_ blank on Osborn's books.
He went to Wenham by the way of Danvers; he had been told the week
before to hasten Dick; he had seen the Crowninshields several times
within a few days; he had a saddle-horse the Saturday night before; he
had seen Mrs. Beckford at Wenham, and knew she would not return that
night. She had not been away before for six weeks, and probably would
not soon be again. He had just come from Wenham. Every day, for the week
previous, he had visited one or another of these conspirators, save
Sunday, and then probably he saw them in town. When he saw Joseph on the
6th, Joseph had prepared the house, and would naturally tell him of it;
there were constant communications between them; daily and nightly
visitation; too much knowledge of these parties and this transaction, to
leave a particle of doubt on the mind of any one, that Frank Knapp knew
the murder was to be committed this night. The hour was come, and he
knew it; if so, and he was in Brown Street, without explaining why he
was there, can the jury for a moment doubt whether he was there to
countenance, aid, or support; or for curiosity alone; or to learn how
the wages of sin and death were earned by the perpetrator?
Here Mr. Webster read the law from Hawkins. 1 Hawk. 204, Lib. 1,
ch. 32 sec. 7.
The perpetrator would derive courage, and strength, and confidence, from
the knowledge that one of his associates was near by. If he was in Brown
Street, he could have been there for no other purpose. If there for this
purpose, then he was, in the language of the law, _present_, aiding and
abetting in the murder.
His interest lay in being somewhere else. If he had nothing to do with
the murder, no part to act, why not stay at home? Why should he jeopard
his own life, if it was not agreed that he should be there? He would not
voluntarily go where the very place would cause him to swing if
detected. He would not voluntarily assume the place of danger. His
taking this place proves that he went to give aid. His staying away
would have made an _alibi_. If he had nothing to do with the murder, he
would be at home, where he could prove his _alibi_. He knew he was in
danger, because he was guilty of the conspiracy, and, if he had nothing
to do, would not expose himself to suspicion or detection.
Did the prisoner at the bar countenance this murder? Did he concur, or
did he non-concur, in what the perpetrator was about to do? Would he
have tried to shield him? Would he have furnished his cloak for
protection? Would he have pointed out a safe way of retreat? As you
would answer these questions, so you should answer the general question,
whether he was there consenting to the murder, or whether he was there
as a spectator only.
One word more on this presence, called constructive presence. What aid
is to be rendered? Where is the line to be drawn, between acting, and
omitting to act? Suppose he had been in the house, suppose he had
followed the perpetrator to the chamber, what could he have done? This
was to be a murder by stealth; it was to be a secret assassination. It
was not their purpose to have an open combat; they were to approach
their victim unawares, and silently give the fatal blow. But if he had
been in the chamber, no one can doubt that he would have been an
abettor; because of his presence, and ability to render services, if
needed. What service could he have rendered, if there? Could he have
helped him to fly? Could he have aided the silence of his movements?
Could he have facilitated his retreat, on the first alarm? Surely, this
was a case where there was more of safety in going alone than with
another; where company would only embarrass. Richard Crowninshield would
prefer to go alone. He knew his errand too well. His nerves needed no
collateral support. He was not the man to take with him a trembling
companion. He would prefer to have his aid at a distance. He would not
wish to be encumbered by his presence. He would prefer to have him out
of the house. He would prefer that he should be in Brown Street. But
whether in the chamber, in the house, in the garden, or in the street,
whatsoever is aiding in _actual presence_ is aiding in _constructive
presence_; any thing that is aid in one case is aid in the other.[5]
If, then, the aid be anywhere, so as to embolden the perpetrator, to
afford him hope or confidence in his enterprise, it is the same as
though the person stood at his elbow with his sword drawn. His being
there ready to act, with the power to act, is what makes him an abettor.
Here Mr. Webster referred to the cases of Kelly, of Hyde, and
others, cited by counsel for the defendant, and showed that they
did not militate with the doctrine for which he contended. The
difference is, in those cases there was open violence; this was a
case of secret assassination. The aid must meet the occasion. Here
no _acting_ was necessary, but watching, concealment of escape,
management.
What are the _facts_ in relation to this presence? Frank Knapp is proved
to have been a conspirator, proved to have known that the deed was now
to be done. Is it not probable that he was in Brown Street to concur in
the murder? There were four conspirators. It was natural that some one
of them should go with the perpetrator. Richard Crowninshield was to be
the perpetrator; he was to give the blow. There is no evidence of any
casting of the parts for the others. The defendant would probably be the
man to take the second part. He was fond of exploits, he was accustomed
to the use of sword-canes and dirks. If any aid was required, he was the
man to give it. At least, there is no evidence to the contrary of this.
Aid could not have been received from Joseph Knapp, or from George
Crowninshield. Joseph Knapp was at Wenham, and took good care to prove
that he was there. George Crowninshield has proved satisfactorily where
he was; that he was in other company, such as it was, until eleven
o'clock. This narrows the inquiry. This demands of the prisoner to show,
if he was not in this place, where he was. It calls on him loudly to
show this, and to show it truly. If he could show it, he would do it. If
he does not tell, and that truly, it is against him. The defence of an
_alibi_ is a double-edged sword. He knew that he was in a situation
where he might be called upon to account for himself. If he had had no
particular appointment or business to attend to, he would have taken
care to be able so to account. He would have been out of town, or in
some good company. Has he accounted for himself on that night to your
satisfaction?
The prisoner has attempted to prove an _alibi_ in two ways. In the
first place, by four young men with whom he says he was in company, on
the evening of the murder, from seven o'clock till near ten o'clock.
This depends upon the certainty of the night. In the second place, by
his family, from ten o'clock afterwards. This depends upon the certainty
of the time of the night. These two classes of proof have no connection
with each other. One may be true, and the other false; or they may both
be true, or both be false. I shall examine this testimony with some
attention, because, on a former trial, it made more impression on the
minds of the court than on my own mind. I think, when carefully sifted
and compared, it will be found to have in it more of plausibility than
reality.
Mr. Page testifies, that on the evening of the 6th of April he was in
company with Burchmore, Balch, and Forrester, and that he met the
defendant about seven o'clock, near the Salem Hotel; that he afterwards
met him at Remond's, about nine o'clock, and that he was in company with
him a considerable part of the evening. This young gentleman is a member
of college, and says that he came to town the Saturday evening previous;
that he is now able to say that it was the night of the murder when he
walked with Frank Knapp, from the recollection of the fact, that he
called himself to an account, on the morning after the murder, as it is
natural for men to do when an extraordinary occurrence happens.
Gentlemen, this kind of evidence is not satisfactory; general
impressions as to time are not to be relied on. If I were called on to
state the particular day on which any witness testified in this cause, I
could not do it. Every man will notice the same thing in his own mind.
There is no one of these young men that could give an account of himself
for any _other_ day in the month of April. They are made to remember the
fact, and then they think they remember the time. The witness has no
means of knowing it was Tuesday rather than any other time. He did not
know it at first; he could not know it afterwards. He says he called
himself to an account. This has no more to do with the murder than with
the man in the moon. Such testimony is not worthy to be relied on in any
forty-shilling cause. What occasion had he to call himself to an
account? Did he suppose that he should be suspected? Had he any
intimation of this conspiracy?
Suppose, Gentlemen, you were either of you asked where you were, or what
you were doing, on the fifteenth day of June; you could not answer this
question without calling to mind some events to make it certain. Just as
well may you remember on what you dined each day of the year past. Time
is identical. Its subdivisions are all alike. No man knows one day from
another, or one hour from another, but by some fact connected with it.
Days and hours are not visible to the senses, nor to be apprehended and
distinguished by the understanding. The flow of time is known only by
something which marks it; and he who speaks of the date of occurrences
with nothing to guide his recollection speaks at random, and is not to
be relied on. This young gentleman remembers the facts and occurrences;
he knows nothing why they should not have happened on the evening of the
6th; but he knows no more. All the rest is evidently conjecture or
impression.
Mr. White informs you, that he told him he could not tell what night it
was. The first thoughts are all that are valuable in such case. They
miss the mark by taking second aim.
Mr. Balch believes, but is not sure, that he was with Frank Knapp on the
evening of the murder. He has given different accounts of the time. He
has no means of making it certain. All he knows is, that it was some
evening before Fast-day. But whether Monday, Tuesday, or Saturday, he
cannot tell.
Mr. Burchmore says, to the best of his belief, it was the evening of the
murder. Afterwards he attempts to speak positively, from recollecting
that he mentioned the circumstance to William Peirce, as he went to the
Mineral Spring on Fast-day. Last Monday morning he told Colonel Putnam
he could not fix the time. This witness stands in a much worse plight
than either of the others. It is difficult to reconcile all he has said
with any belief in the accuracy of his recollections.
Mr. Forrester does not speak with any certainty as to the night; and it
is very certain that he told Mr. Loring and others, that he did not know
what night it was.
Now, what does the testimony of these four young men amount to? The only
circumstance by which they approximate to an identifying of the night
is, that three of them say it was cloudy; they think their walk was
either on Monday or Tuesday evening, and it is admitted that Monday
evening was clear, whence they draw the inference that it must have been
Tuesday.
But, fortunately, there is one _fact_ disclosed in their testimony that
settles the question. Balch says, that on the evening, whenever it was,
he saw the prisoner; the prisoner told him he was going out of town on
horseback, for a distance of about twenty minutes' drive, and that he
was going to get a horse at Osborn's. This was about seven o'clock. At
about nine, Balch says he saw the prisoner again, and was then told by
him that he had had his ride, and had returned. Now it appears by
Osborn's books, that the prisoner had a saddle-horse from his stable,
not on Tuesday evening, the night of the murder, but on the Saturday
evening previous. This fixes the time about which these young men
testify, and is a complete answer and refutation of the attempted
_alibi_ on Tuesday evening.
I come now to speak of the testimony adduced by the defendant to explain
where he was after ten o'clock on the night of the murder. This comes
chiefly from members of the family; from his father and brothers.
It is agreed that the affidavit of the prisoner should be received as
evidence of what his brother, Samuel H. Knapp, would testify if present.
Samuel H. Knapp says, that, about ten minutes past ten o'clock, his
brother, Frank Knapp, on his way to bed, opened his chamber door, made
some remarks, closed the door, and went to his chamber; and that he did
not hear him leave it afterwards. How is this witness able to fix the
time at ten minutes past ten? There is no circumstance mentioned by
which he fixes it. He had been in bed, probably asleep, and was aroused
from his sleep by the opening of the door. Was he in a situation to
speak of time with precision? Could he know, under such circumstances,
whether it was ten minutes past ten, or ten minutes before eleven, when
his brother spoke to him? What would be the natural result in such a
case? But we are not left to conjecture this result. We have positive
testimony on this point. Mr. Webb tells you that Samuel told him, on the
8th of June, "that he did not know what time his brother Frank came
home, and that he was not at home when _he_ went to bed." You will
consider this testimony of Mr. Webb as indorsed upon this affidavit; and
with this indorsement upon it, you will give it its due weight. This
statement was made to him after Frank was arrested.
I come to the testimony of the father. I find myself incapable of
speaking of him or his testimony with severity. Unfortunate old man!
Another Lear, in the conduct of his children; another Lear, I apprehend,
in the effect of his distress upon his mind and understanding. He is
brought here to testify, under circumstances that disarm severity, and
call loudly for sympathy. Though it is impossible not to see that his
story cannot be credited, yet I am unable to speak of him otherwise than
in sorrow and grief. Unhappy father! he strives to remember, perhaps
persuades himself that he does remember, that on the evening of the
murder he was himself at home at ten o'clock. He thinks, or seems to
think, that his son came in at about five minutes past ten. He fancies
that he remembers his conversation; he thinks he spoke of bolting the
door; he thinks he asked the time of night; he seems to remember his
then going to his bed. Alas! these are but the swimming fancies of an
agitated and distressed mind. Alas! they are but the dreams of hope, its
uncertain lights, flickering on the thick darkness of parental distress.
Alas! the miserable father knows nothing, in reality, of all these
things.
Mr. Shepard says that the first conversation he had with Mr. Knapp was
soon after the murder, and _before_ the arrest of his sons. Mr. Knapp
says it was _after_ the arrest of his sons. His own fears led him to say
to Mr. Shepard, that his "son Frank was at home that night; and so
Phippen told him," or "as Phippen told him." Mr. Shepard says that he
was struck with the remark at the time; that it made an unfavorable
impression on his mind; he does not tell you what that impression was,
but when you connect it with the previous inquiry he had made, whether
Frank had continued to associate with the Crowninshields, and recollect
that the Crowninshields were then known to be suspected of this crime,
can you doubt what this impression was? can you doubt as to the fears he
then had?
This poor old man tells you, that he was greatly perplexed at the time;
that he found himself in embarrassed circumstances; that on this very
night he was engaged in making an assignment of his property to his
friend, Mr. Shepard. If ever charity should furnish a mantle for error,
it should be here. Imagination cannot picture a more deplorable,
distressed condition.
The same general remarks may be applied to his conversation with Mr.
Treadwell, as have been made upon that with Mr. Shepard. He told him,
that he believed Frank was at home about the usual time. In his
conversations with either of these persons, he did not pretend to know,
of his own knowledge, the time that he came home. He now tells you
positively that he recollects the time, and that he so told Mr. Shepard.
He is directly contradicted by both these witnesses, as respectable men
as Salem affords.
This idea of an _alibi_ is of recent origin. Would Samuel Knapp have
gone to sea if it were then thought of? His testimony, if true, was too
important to be lost. If there be any truth in this part of the _alibi_,
it is so near in point or time that it cannot be relied on. The mere
variation of half an hour would avoid it. The mere variations of
different timepieces would explain it.
Has the defendant proved where he was on that night? If you doubt about
it, there is an end of it. The burden is upon him to satisfy you beyond
all reasonable doubt. Osborn's books, in connection with what the young
men state, are conclusive, I think, on this point. He has not, then,
accounted for himself; he has attempted it, and has failed. I pray you
to remember, Gentlemen, that this is a case in which the prisoner would,
more than any other, be rationally able to account for himself on the
night of the murder, if he could do so. He was in the conspiracy, he
knew the murder was then to be committed, and if he himself was to have
no hand in its actual execution, he would of course, as a matter of
safety and precaution, be somewhere else, and be able to prove
afterwards that he had been somewhere else. Having this motive to prove
himself elsewhere, and the power to do it if he were elsewhere, his
failing in such proof must necessarily leave a very strong inference
against him.
But, Gentlemen, let us now consider what is the evidence produced on the
part of the government to prove that John Francis Knapp, the prisoner at
the bar, was in Brown Street on the night of the murder. This is a point
of vital importance in this cause. Unless this be made out, beyond
reasonable doubt, the law of _presence_ does not apply to the case. The
government undertake to prove that he was present aiding in the murder,
by proving that he was in Brown Street for this purpose. Now, what are
the undoubted facts? They are, that two persons were seen in that
street, several times during that evening, under suspicious
circumstances; under such circumstances as induced those who saw them to
watch their movements. Of this there can be no doubt. Mirick saw a man
standing at the post opposite his store from fifteen minutes before nine
until twenty minutes after, dressed in a full frock-coat, glazed cap,
and so forth, in size and general appearance answering to the prisoner
at the bar. This person was waiting there; and whenever any one
approached him, he moved to and from the corner, as though he would
avoid being suspected or recognized. Afterwards, two persons were seen
by Webster, walking in Howard Street, with a slow, deliberate movement
that attracted his attention. This was about half-past nine. One of
these he took to be the prisoner at the bar, the other he did not know.
About half-past ten a person is seen sitting on the rope-walk steps,
wrapped in a cloak. He drops his head when passed, to avoid being known.
Shortly after, two persons are seen to meet in this street, without
ceremony or salutation, and in a hurried manner to converse for a short
time; then to separate, and run off with great speed. Now, on this same
night a gentleman is slain, murdered in his bed, his house being entered
by stealth from without; and his house situated within three hundred
feet of this street. The windows of his chamber were in plain sight from
this street; a weapon of death is afterwards found in a place where
these persons were seen to pass, in a retired place, around which they
had been seen lingering. It is now known that this murder was committed
by four persons, conspiring together for this purpose. No account is
given who these suspected persons thus seen in Brown Street and its
neighborhood were. Now, I ask, Gentlemen, whether you or any man can
doubt that this murder was committed by the persons who were thus in and
about Brown Street. Can any person doubt that they were there for
purposes connected with this murder? If not for this purpose, what were
they there for? When there is a cause so near at hand, why wander into
conjecture for an explanation? Common-sense requires you to take the
nearest adequate cause for a known effect. Who were these suspicious
persons in Brown Street? There was something extraordinary about them;
something noticeable, and noticed at the time; something in their
appearance that aroused suspicion. And a man is found the next morning
murdered in the near vicinity.
Now, so long as no other account shall be given of those suspicious
persons, so long the inference must remain irresistible that they were
the murderers. Let it be remembered, that it is already shown that this
murder was the result of conspiracy and of concert; let it be
remembered, that the house, having been opened from within, was entered
by stealth from without. Let it be remembered that Brown Street, where
these persons were repeatedly seen under such suspicious circumstances,
was a place from which every occupied room in Mr. White's house is
clearly seen; let it be remembered, that the place, though thus very
near to Mr. White's house, is a retired and lonely place; and let it be
remembered that the instrument of death was afterwards found concealed
very near the same spot.
Must not every man come to the conclusion, that these persons thus seen
in Brown Street were the murderers? Every man's own judgment, I think,
must satisfy him that this must be so. It is a plain deduction of common
sense. It is a point on which each one of you may reason like a Hale or
a Mansfield. The two occurrences explain each other. The murder shows
why these persons were thus lurking, at that hour, in Brown Street; and
their lurking in Brown Street shows who committed the murder.
If, then, the persons in and about Brown Street were the plotters and
executers of the murder of Captain White, we know who they were, and you
know that _there_ is one of them.
This fearful concatenation of circumstances puts him to an account. He
was a conspirator. He had entered into this plan of murder. The murder
is committed, and he is known to have been within three minutes' walk of
the place. He must account for himself, He has attempted this, and
failed. Then, with all these general reasons to show he was actually in
Brown Street, and his failures in his _alibi_, let us see what is the
direct proof of his being there. But first, let me ask, is it not very
remarkable that there is no attempt to show where Richard Crowninshield,
Jr. was on that night? We hear nothing of him. He was seen in none of
his usual haunts about the town. Yet, if he was the actual perpetrator
of the murder, which nobody doubts, he was in the town somewhere. Can
you, therefore, entertain a doubt that he was one of the persons seen in
Brown Street? And as to the prisoner, you will recollect, that, since
the testimony of the young men has failed to show where he was on that
evening, the last we hear or know of him, on the day preceding the
murder, is, that at four o'clock, P.M., he was at his brother's in
Wenham. He had left home, after dinner, in a manner doubtless designed
to avoid observation, and had gone to Wenham, probably by way of
Danvers. As we hear nothing of him after four o'clock, P.M., for the
remainder of the day and evening; as he was one of the conspirators; as
Richard Crowninshield, Jr. was another; as Richard Crowninshield, Jr.
was in town in the evening, and yet seen in no usual place of
resort,--the inference is very fair, that Richard Crowninshield, Jr. and
the prisoner were together, acting in execution of their conspiracy. Of
the four conspirators, J.J. Knapp, Jr. was at Wenham, and George
Crowninshield has been accounted for; so that if the persons seen in
Brown Street were the murderers, one of them must have been Richard
Crowninshield, Jr., and the other must have been the prisoner at the
bar.
Now, as to the proof of his identity with one of the persons seen in
Brown Street, Mr. Mirick, a cautious witness, examined the person he
saw, closely, in a light night, and says that he thinks the prisoner at
the bar is the person; and that he should not hesitate at all, if he
were seen in the same dress. His opinion is formed partly from his own
observation, and partly from the description of others. But this
description turns out to be only in regard to the dress. It is said,
that he is now more confident than on the former trial. If he has varied
in his testimony make such allowance as you may think proper. I do not
perceive any material variance. He thought him the same person, when he
was first brought to court, and as he saw him get out of the chaise.
This is one of the cases in which a witness is permitted to give an
opinion. This witness is as honest as yourselves, neither willing nor
swift; but he says, he believes it was the man. His words are, "This is
my opinion "; and this opinion it is proper for him to give. If partly
founded on what he has _heard_, then this opinion is not to be taken;
but if on what he _saw_, then you can have no better evidence. I lay no
stress on similarity of dress. No man will ever lose his life by my
voice on such evidence. But then it is proper to notice, that no
inferences drawn from any _dissimilarity_ of dress can be given in the
prisoner's favor; because, in fact, the person seen by Mirick was
dressed like the prisoner.
The description of the person seen by Mirick answers to that of the
prisoner at the bar. In regard to the supposed discrepancy of
statements, before and now, there would be no end to such minute
inquiries. It would not be strange if witnesses should vary. I do not
think much of slight shades of variation. If I believe the witness is
honest, that is enough. If he has expressed himself more strongly now
than then, this does not prove him false.
Peter E. Webster saw the prisoner at the bar, as he then thought, and
still thinks, walking in Howard Street at half-past nine o'clock. He
then thought it was Frank Knapp, and has not altered his opinion since.
He knew him well; he had long known him. If he then thought it was he,
this goes far to prove it. He observed him the more, as it was unusual
to see gentlemen walk there at that hour. It was a retired, lonely
street. Now, is there reasonable doubt that Mr. Webster did see him
there that night? How can you have more proof than this? He judged by
his walk, by his general appearance, by his deportment. We all judge in
this manner. If you believe he is right, it goes a great way in this
case. But then this person, it is said, had a cloak on, and that he
could not, therefore, be the same person that Mirick saw. If we were
treating of men that had no occasion to disguise themselves or their
conduct, there might be something in this argument. But as it is, there
is little in it. It may be presumed that they would change their dress.
This would help their disguise. What is easier than to throw off a
cloak, and again put it on? Perhaps he was less fearful of being known
when alone, than when with the perpetrator.
Mr. Southwick swears all that a man can swear. He has the best means of
judging that could be had at the time. He tells you that he left his
father's house at half-past ten o'clock, and as he passed to his own
house in Brown Street he saw a man sitting on the steps of the
rope-walk; that he passed him three times, and each time he held down
his head, so that he did not see his face. That the man had on a cloak,
which was not wrapped around him, and a glazed cap. That he took the man
to be Frank Knapp at the time; that, when he went into his house, he
told his wife that he thought it was Frank Knapp; that he knew him well,
having known him from a boy. And his wife swears that he did so tell her
when he came home. What could mislead this witness at the time? He was
not then suspecting Frank Knapp of any thing. He could not then be
influenced by any prejudice. If you believe that the witness saw Frank
Knapp in this position at this time, it proves the case. Whether you
believe it or not depends upon the credit of the witness. He swears it.
If true, it is solid evidence. Mrs. Southwick supports her husband. Are
they true? Are they worthy of belief? If he deserves the epithets
applied to him, then he ought not to be believed. In this fact they
cannot be mistaken; they are right, or they are perjured. As to his not
speaking to Frank Knapp, that depends upon their intimacy. But a very
good reason is, Frank chose to disguise himself. This makes nothing
against his credit. But it is said that he should not be believed. And
why? Because, it is said, he himself now tells you, that, when he
testified before the grand jury at Ipswich, he did not then say that he
thought the person he saw in Brown Street was Frank Knapp, but that "the
person was about the size of Selman." The means of attacking him,
therefore, come from himself. If he is a false man, why should he tell
truths against himself? They rely on his veracity to prove that he is a
liar. Before you can come to this conclusion, you will consider whether
all the circumstances are now known, that should have a bearing on this
point. Suppose that, when he was before the grand jury, he was asked by
the attorney this question, "Was the person you saw in Brown Street
about the size of Selman?" and he answered Yes. This was all true.
Suppose, also, that he expected to be inquired of further, and no
further questions were put to him. Would it not be extremely hard to
impute to him perjury for this? It is not uncommon for witnesses to
think that they have done all their duty, when they have answered the
questions put to them. But suppose that we admit that he did not then
tell all he knew, this does not affect the _fact_ at all; because he did
tell, at the time, in the hearing of others, that the person he saw was
Frank Knapp. There is not the slightest suggestion against the veracity
or accuracy of Mrs. Southwick. Now she swears positively, that her
husband came into the house and told her that he had seen a person on
the rope-walk steps, and believed it was Frank Knapp.
It is said that Mr. Southwick is contradicted, also, by Mr. Shillaber. I
do not so understand Mr. Shillaber's testimony. I think what they both
testify is reconcilable, and consistent. My learned brother said, on a
similar occasion, that there is more probability, in such cases, that
the persons hearing should misunderstand, than that the person speaking
should contradict himself. I think the same remark applicable here.
You have all witnessed the uncertainty of testimony, when witnesses are
called to testify what other witnesses said. Several respectable
counsellors have been summoned, on this occasion, to give testimony of
that sort. They have, every one of them, given different versions. They
all took minutes at the time, and without doubt intend to state the
truth. But still they differ. Mr. Shillaber's version is different from
every thing that Southwick has stated elsewhere. But little reliance is
to be placed on slight variations in testimony, unless they are
manifestly intentional. I think that Mr. Shillaber must be satisfied
that he did not rightly understand Mr. Southwick. I confess I
misunderstood Mr. Shillaber on the former trial, if I now rightly
understand him. I, therefore, did not then recall Mr. Southwick to the
stand. Mr. Southwick, as I read it, understood Mr. Shillaber as asking
him about a person coming out of Newbury Street, and whether, for aught
he knew, it might not be Richard Crowninshield, Jr. He answered, that he
could not tell. He did not understand Mr. Shillaber as questioning him
as to the person whom he saw sitting on the steps of the rope-walk.
Southwick, on this trial, having heard Mr. Shillaber, has been recalled
to the stand, and states that Mr. Shillaber entirely misunderstood him.
This is certainly most probable, because the controlling fact in the
case is not controverted; that is, that Southwick did tell his wife, at
the very moment he entered his house, that he had seen a person on the
rope-walk steps, whom he believed to be Frank Knapp. Nothing can prove
with more certainty than this, that Southwick, at the time, _thought_
the person whom he thus saw to be the prisoner at the bar.
Mr. Bray is an acknowledged accurate and intelligent witness. He was
highly complimented by my brother on the former trial, although he now
charges him with varying his testimony. What could be his motive? You
will be slow in imputing to him any design of this kind. I deny
altogether that there is any contradiction. There may be differences,
but not contradiction. These arise from the difference in the questions
put; the difference between believing and knowing. On the first trial,
he said he did not know the person, and now says the same. Then, we did
not do all we had a right to do. We did not ask him who he thought it
was. Now, when so asked, he says he believes it was the prisoner at the
bar. If he had then been asked this question, he would have given the
same answer. That he has expressed himself more strongly, I admit; but
he has not contradicted himself. He is more confident now; and that is
all. A man may not assert a thing, and still may have no doubt upon it.
Cannot every man see this distinction to be consistent? I leave him in
that attitude; that only is the difference. On questions of identity,
opinion is evidence. We may ask the witness, either if he knew who the
person seen was, or who he thinks he was. And he may well answer, as
Captain Bray has answered, that he does not know who it was, but that he
thinks it was the prisoner.
We have offered to produce witnesses to prove, that, as soon as Bray saw
the prisoner, he pronounced him the same person. We are not at liberty
to call them to corroborate our own witness. How, then, could this fact
of the prisoner's being in Brown Street be better proved? If ten
witnesses had testified to it, it would be no better. Two men, who knew
him well, took it to be Frank Knapp, and one of them so said, when there
was nothing to mislead them. Two others, who examined him closely, now
swear to their opinion that he is the man.
Miss Jaqueth saw three persons pass by the rope-walk, several evenings
before the murder. She saw one of them pointing towards Mr. White's
house. She noticed that another had something which appeared to be like
an instrument of music; that he put it behind him and attempted to
conceal it. Who were these persons? This was but a few steps from the
place where this apparent instrument of music (of _music_ such as
Richard Crowninshield, Jr. spoke of to Palmer) was afterwards found.
These facts prove this a point of rendezvous for these parties. They
show Brown Street to have been the place for consultation and
observation; and to this purpose it was well suited.
Mr. Burns's testimony is also important. What was the defendant's object
in his private conversation with Burns? He knew that Burns was out that
night; that he lived near Brown Street, and that he had probably seen
him; and he wished him to say nothing. He said to Burns, "If you saw any
of your friends out that night, say nothing about it; my brother Joe and
I are your friends." This is plain proof that he wished to say to him,
if you saw me in Brown Street that night, say nothing about it.
But it is said that Burns ought not to be believed, because he mistook
the color of the dagger, and because he has varied in his description of
it. These are slight circumstances, if his general character be good. To
my mind they are of no importance. It is for you to make what deduction
you may think proper, on this account, from the weight of his evidence.
His conversation with Burns, if Burns is believed, shows two things;
first, that he desired Burns not to mention it, if he had seen him on
the night of the murder; second, that he wished to fix the charge of
murder on Mr. Stephen White. Both of these prove his own guilt.
I think you will be of opinion, that Brown Street was a probable place
for the conspirators to assemble, and for an aid to be stationed. If we
knew their whole plan, and if we were skilled to judge in such a case,
then we could perhaps determine on this point better. But it is a
retired place, and still commands a full view of the house; a lonely
place, but still a place of observation. Not so lonely that a person
would excite suspicion to be seen walking there in an ordinary manner;
not so public as to be noticed by many. It is near enough to the scene
of action in point of law. It was their point of centrality. The club
was found near the spot, in a place provided for it, in a place that had
been previously hunted out, in a concerted place of concealment. _Here
was their point of rendezvous._ Here might the lights be seen. Here
might an aid be secreted. Here was he within call. Here might he be
aroused by the sound of the whistle. Here might he carry the weapon.
Here might he receive the murderer after the murder.
Then, Gentlemen, the general question occurs, Is it satisfactorily
proved, by all these facts and circumstances, that the defendant was in
and about Brown Street on the night of the murder? Considering that the
murder was effected by a conspiracy; considering that he was one of the
four conspirators; considering that two of the conspirators have
accounted for themselves on the night of the murder, and were not in
Brown Street; considering that the prisoner does not account for
himself, nor show where he was; considering that Richard Crowninshield,
the other conspirator and the perpetrator, is not accounted for, nor
shown to be elsewhere; considering that it is now past all doubt that
two persons were seen lurking in and about Brown Street at different
times, avoiding observation, and exciting so much suspicion that the
neighbors actually watched them; considering that, if these persons thus
lurking in Brown Street at that hour were not the murderers, it remains
to this day wholly unknown who they were or what their business was;
considering the testimony of Miss Jaqueth, and that the club was
afterwards found near this place; considering, finally, that Webster and
Southwick saw these persons, and then took one of them for the
defendant, and that Southwick then told his wife so, and that Bray and
Mirick examined them closely, and now swear to their belief that the
prisoner was one of them;--it is for you to say, putting these
considerations together, whether you believe the prisoner was actually
in Brown Street at the time of the murder.
By the counsel for the prisoner, much stress has been laid upon the
question, whether Brown Street was a place in which aid could be given,
a place in which actual assistance could be rendered in this
transaction. This must be mainly decided by their own opinion who
selected the place; by what they thought at the time, according to their
plan of operation.
If it was agreed that the prisoner should be there to assist, it is
enough. If they thought the place proper for their purpose, according to
their plan, it is sufficient. Suppose we could prove expressly that they
agreed that Frank should be there, and he was there, and you should
think it not a well-chosen place for aiding and abetting, must he be
acquitted? No! It is not what _I_ think or _you_ think of the
appropriateness of the place; it is what _they_ thought _at the time_.
If the prisoner was in Brown Street by appointment and agreement with
the perpetrator, for the purpose of giving assistance if assistance
should be needed, it may safely be presumed that the place was suited to
such assistance as it was supposed by the parties might chance to become
requisite.
If in Brown Street, was he there by appointment? was he there to aid, if
aid were necessary? was he there for, or against, the murderer? to
concur, or to oppose? to favor, or to thwart? Did the perpetrator know
he was there, there waiting? If so, then it follows that he was there by
appointment. He was at the post half an hour; he was waiting for
somebody. This proves appointment, arrangement, previous agreement; then
it follows that he was there to aid, to encourage, to embolden the
perpetrator; and that is enough. If he were in such a situation as to
afford aid, or that he was relied upon for aid, then he was aiding and
abetting. It is enough that the conspirator desired to have him there.
Besides, it may be well said, that he could afford just as much aid
there as if he had been in Essex Street, as if he had been standing even
at the gate, or at the window. It was not an act of power against power
that was to be done; it was a secret act, to be done by stealth. The aid
was to be placed in a position secure from observation. It was important
to the security of both that he should be in a lonely place. Now it is
obvious that there are many purposes for which he might be in Brown
Street.
1. Richard Crowninshield might have been secreted in the garden, and
waiting for a signal;
2. Or he might be in Brown Street to advise him as to the time of making
his entry into the house;