jS"^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SCHOOL OF LAW LIBRARY ^^C^ /^ 6 -<^^ / /X A TREATISE ON FACTS AS SUBJECTS OF INQUIRY BY A JURY. BY JAMES RAM, OF THE INNER TEMPLE, M.A. CAMBRIDGE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW. " Je ne dis rien que je n'appuie De quelque exemple." — La Fontaine. FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. BY JOHN TOWNSHEND, COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW. WITH AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING DAVID PAUL BROWN'S GOLDEN RULES FOR THE EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS, COX'S PRACTICAL ADVICE FOR CONDUCTING THE EXAMINATION OF WITNESSES, WHEWELL ON THEORY AND FACT. ^^.Svf.. NEW YORK: BAKER, VOORHIS & COMPANY, 66 NASSAU STREET. 1870. ■ I a TO Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year ]&70, by Baker, Voorhis & Co., in the Clerk'i Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. BAKER & GODWIN, PRINTERS Printing-Honse Square, N.Y. PUBLISHERS' PREFACE. The following work, by an author of acknowledged- merit, is now for the first time republished in this country, and brought fairly to the notice of the legal profession in the United States. Although compara- tively unknown here, the work has long enjoyed a high reputation in England, and those gentlemen, who, through the publishers of this, have possessed them- selves of English copies, are unanimous in their com- mendation of it, both as regards the subject-matter and the style and manner of execution. The work embodies the results of great learning, large experience, and acute observation, with an extraordinary affluence of apt illustrations from all x>ossible sources ; and these re- sults are communicated in the clearest and most agree- able form. The work is designed primarily for lawyers, and has for them, whether as students or practitioners, an es- pecial interest ; nevertheless, it contains so much of sound thought and sagacious suggestion as makes it of rare interest to a large circle of intelligent readers out- side of the legal profession. The author has so well performed his self-allotted task and so faithfully fulfilled the motto upon his title page, as to leave little room for addition, and still less (his index excepted) for improvement. Yet the pub- lishers believed the value of the work might be en- hanced by passing it through the hands of a competent IV PREFACE. editor. With this view they secured the services of Mr. Townshend, the author of the Treatise on Slander and Libel, and other works favorably known to the j)rofes- sion, and he has edited the work now in*esented to the public. This contains all the text of the original edition (save a few poetical quotations omitted, the reference to them "being retained), in the same form and order as in the original, with additional foot notes — the latter distin- guished by being enclosed within brackets [ ]. The tables of contents, of names of cases cited, and of authors and books quoted, together with the appendix and index (the latter very full), are the work of the American editor. The English edition has but a very brief index and no prefatory tables. To add to the practical purposes of the volume, David Paul Brown's " Golden Rules for the Examination of Witnesses,^ ^ Cox's ^^ Fractical Advice for Conducting tlie Examination of Witnesses,'^ and Whewell's " Theory and Fact,^^ have been placed in an Aijpendix. These articles are quite in harmony with the character of Mr. Eam's Treatise, and add very materially to the value of the work. The imblishers flatter themselves that the reproduc- tion of this work, with the additions as now presented, will be esteemed as a valuable contribution to the legal literature of the country. If obliged to characterize the book in a single sen- tence, we should call it "The Philosophy of E\idence." It shows how we acquire our knowledge of facts ; the circumstances which impede or facilitate the acquisition of that knowledge ; the means by which the knowledge, when obtained, is either lost or i)erpetuated ; the diffi- culties in the way of communicating a knowledge of PREFACE. V facts from one to another ; the methods of distmgnishing between truth and falsehood, and by which to test the value of human testimony. Together with a chapter upon Advocacy, aud another upon The Examination OF Witnesses. The whole calculated to assist in the acquisition of that most diflQcult accomplishment — the art of trying a cause before a jury. CONTENTS. PUBLISHERS' PREFACE TABLE OF CASES CITED . NAMES OF AUTHORS QUOTED NAMES OF WORKS QUOTED PAOB. iii ix xi xiii INTRODUCTORY OF PERCEPTION OF IMPRESSION CHAPTER I. CHAPTER n. CHAPTER III. 16 31 OF MEMORY CHAPTER lY. 38 CHAPTER V. OF RECOGNITION Section I. Recognition op a Thing II. Recognition of a Person CHAPTER VI. OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE Section I. H. III. IV. V. VI. Op Length of Time. Op Speed Of Distance op Place Op Falsehood Op Self Conviction Of Charactek. 60 60 68 83 83 85 89 92 93 95 Vlll CONTENTS. OF SUSPICION CHAPTEK YII. CHAPTER YIII. OF PROBABILITY CHAPTER IX. OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS . CHAPTER X. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS . . '. . Section I. Generally of the Credit of a Witness n. Of a Child's Evidence in. Of Motives of a Witn-ess . IV. Op Affecting Credit by Certain Questions IN Cross-examination V. Of the Former Conduct of a Witness VT. Op an Accomplice .... VII. Of A Spy Vlii. Op the Bankruptcy of a Witness rx. Of a Witness' Weakness of Mend X. Of a Witness' Demeanor Untjer Examin ATION XI. Of Different Evidence op Two Wit- nesses XTT. Of One Witness' Opinion of Another CHAPTER XL OF A WITNESS UNDER EXAMINATION CHAPTER XII. OF ADVOCACY CHAPTER XIII. OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS APPENDIX. Golden Rules for the Examination of Witnesses Practical Advice for Conducting the Examination of Witnesses Theory and Fact 101 107 125 145 145 151 153 153 161 163 170 178 179 182 184 199 20$ 232 271 307 313 852 TABLE OF THE NAMES OF CASES CITED. Adams v. Halley, 13. Allen V. Patterson, 13. Ashford v. Thornton, 44, 91. Aymar v. Astor, 11. Backus V. Shepperd, 13. Ballard v. Lockwood, 10. Beach v. Gallup, 13. Beach v. King, 11. Bedell v. Chace, 9. Bellv. Smith, 11. Bell V. Warden, 11. Bennett V. Womack, 11. Bernhardt v. Rensselaer R. R. Co. 10 Birley v. Newton, 13. Birdseyev. Frost, 13. Bloodgood V. Bruen, 13. Bowden v. Henderson, 114. Bowie V. Brahe, 13. Brown V. Buckingham, 13. Brow^n v. Ryckman, 13. Buckingham v. Payne, 10. Buffalo, City of, v. HoUoway, 13. Buckley v. Keteltas, 11, Burrall v. Bowen, 13. Burrows v. Wright, 376. Burton v. Griffiths, 11. Carroll v. Ui^ton, 11. Casey v. Mann, 13. Cayuga Co. Bk. v. Warden, 11. Chamberlain v. Kaylor, 13. Chapin v. Potter, 13. Charlewood's Case, 375. Child V. Sun Mut. Ins. Co. 11. Clarke v. Owens, 11, Clifford V. Hunter, 11. Clift V. White, 9. Codling's Case, 1G9. Conger v. Hudson R. R. Co. 11. Coons V. Chambers, 11. Cowell V. Hill, 10. Crosfield's Case, 105, 181, 317. Cumpston v. McNaii', 13. Davis V. Hoppock, 13. Decker \'. Matthews, 10. DeRidder v. McKnight, 11. Despard's Case, 100, 166, 175.' Doe d. Mudd v. Suckermore, 68. Dole V. Gold, 11. Dow V. Platuer,^ 10. Dowley V. Winfield, 113. Edgell V. Hart, 11. Edwards v. Scott, 10. Ensign v. Sherman, 10, 13. Erwin v. Voorhies, 11. Facey v. Hurdom, 10. Fairbanks V. Bloomfield, 11. Farmers "Bk. v. A'ail, 11. Fletcher v. Calthrop, 10. Foot V. Wiswall, 10. Forbeg'Case, 158, 377. Forbes v. Waller, 9. Frost's Case, 44, 98, 155, 156, 157, 160, 193, 194, 195, 196,308. Fry V. Hill, 10. Gagev. Parker, 11. Gallagher v. White, 11. Gillet V. Fairchild, 11. Ginnon v. Harlem R. R. Co. 10. Gordon, Lord George, Case, 188. Graham v. Machado, 10. Green v. Haines, 11. Griffin v. Cranston, 9. Haight V. Hoyt, 10. Hall V. Southmayd, 13. Hardy's Case, 143, 173,193, 307,317, 331 333. Hartz V. Long Island R. R. Co. 12. Hatch V. Poet, 13. Hause's Case, 78. Healy V. Ulty, 11. Halstein v. Rice, 13. Hunter's Case, 64. TABLE OF CASES. Hyatt V. McMahon, 10. Ives y. Humpliries, 10. Jennings v. Carter, 11. Jones V. PhcBnix Bk., 13. Keneys v. Richards, 13. Keteltas v. Myers, 13. Kingston, Duchess of, 46, 308. Latham v. Westervelt, 13. Lawrence y. Ocean Ins. Co. 11. Lawrence y. "Wright, 10, 13. Lewis V. Peake, 10. Lincoln y. Wright, 131. Lockwoocl y. Thome, 11. M^Callough y. Moss, 10. Mackay y. Rhinelander, 11. McKyring y. Bull, 13. Mangam y. Brooklyn R. R. Co. 10. Mann y. More wood, 10. Maugham y. Hubbard, 49. MeMUe's Case, 43. Mettlestadt y. Ninth Aye. R. R. Co. 10. Miller y. The People, 9. Monroe y. Merchant, 13, Moore y. "Westervelt, 13. Moss y. Riddle, 9. Myers y. Machado, 13. O'Callaghan v. Booth, 10. Ocean Ins. Co. v. Francis, 10. O'Coigly's Case, 139, 339. O'Gara v. Eisanlour, 111. Palmer v. De Witt, 53. Parker Mills v. Jacob, 10. Parker's Case, 79. Parsons v. Brown, 10. Patch's Case, 84. Patrick v. Hallett, 11. Pear's Case, 375. People, The v, Saxton, 10. People, The v. Walker, 11. Penniman v. Hudson, 13. Pitt V. Shew, 10. Prime, Re., 13. Pf indie v. Caruthers, 10. Public Adm'or v. Watts, 13. Purvis V. Coleman, 10, 13. Ransford v. Copeland, 11. Reg. y. Inh. of Aberdaron, 10. Rex y. Everett, 13. Rex y. Hay, 115. Rex V. Upton-on-Severn, 13. Rooty. King, 10. Rush's Case, 143, Sage y. Hazard, 11. Saurin y. Starr, 28. Schenk v. Nalor, 13. Schiebel v. Fairbairn, 11. Serle v. Norton, 11. Seymour y. Wilson, 9 . Sherwood v. Ruggles, 11. Sillick y. Booth, 119. Smith y. Lockwood, 12. Sturtevant v. Ballard, 11. Tawell's Case, 143. Taylor v. Corbiere, 13. Tenant y. Bell, 10. Thellwall v. Yelverton, 321. Thomas v. Desmond, 13. Thomas v. Woods, 13. Thurston v. Cornell, 10. Tindall y. Brown, 11. Tobin v. Murison, 10. Tookes' Case, 140. Underwood v. Wing, 115. Van Schack v. Winne, 13, "S^an Trot y. McCalloch, 11. Yigers v. Dean of St. Pauls, 10. Vrooman y. Griffiths, 130, Wads worth v. Allcott, 11. Walter V, Lockwood, 13. Warner v. Hatfield, 13. Watson y. England, 113. Way v. East, 156, 190. Webb, ex parte, 13. Wharton v. McKenzie, 11. White v. Brown, 13. White V. Joy, 11. Whitmarsh v. Angle, 11. Williams v. Smith, 11. Wing v. Angrave, 119, Wilson v. Ellis, 11, Witherspoon v. Van Dolar, 13. NAMES OF AUTHORS QUOTED. Abercbombie, 55. Addison, 75, 106, 177, 239, 306. Aytoun, 34. Bacon, 101, 128, 137, 184, 220, 227, 236, 267, 288. Barrington, Sir J., 92, 206, 242, 292. Blackstone, 128. Blackwood, 150, 357. Borrow, 17, 22, 215, 219. Boswell, 58, 132, 200, 209, 212, 214, 237, 250, 251. Brougham, Loud, 256, 264. Brown, D. P., 53, 307. Bry.\nt, W. C, 71. Butler, 109. Byron, 25, 32, 42, 103, 110, 165, 204. C^SAR, 86. Campbell, Lord, 131. Cervantes, 85, 215, 235. Cicero, 27, 39, 43, 52, 54, 85, 93, 102, 103, 104, 119, 120, 122, 123, 124, 175, 2ir., 237, 258, 262,264, 265, 277, 298, 301. Clarendon, Lord, 19, 186, 190, 283. Cloncurry, Lord, 65. CocKBUBN, Lord, 52, 57, 293. Coke, 238. Coleridge, 41, 254. Cowper, 21, 41, 63, 71, 72 74. Cox, 313. CURRAN, 138. Davis, Sir J., 249. De Quincy, 24, 86, 210. DODSLEY, 77. Dryden, 56, 176, 287. Eldon, Lord, 211. Erskine, 141, 190. Evelyn, 177, 178. Finch, 238. Forbes, 54. fortescue, 280. Foster, 152. Francis, 27. Frazer, Sir A., 85. Gay, 87, 93, 163, 258, 295. GiFFORD, 149, 177, 299. Goldsmith, 70, 295. Gray, 25, 47, 238. Henry, Dr., 86. Hooker, 28, 29, 145, 273. Horace, 13, 27, 213, 264. Hume, 27, 105, 197. Johnson, Samuel, 19, 29, 37, 47, 52, 90, 94, 101, 138, 132, 162, 257, 296. Juvenal, 56, 92, 149, 176, 177, 179, 254, 258, 299, 301. KiRBY, 53. La Fontaine, 234, 254. Lee, 177. Lewis, G. C, 10. Locke, 26, 31, 34, 38, 109, 146, 272. Louth, 29. Lucan, 20, 110. Xll :SAMES OF AUTHORS. Macaulay, 107, 151, 255. Macintosh, 239, 300. Martial, 55, 301. Matne, 39. Melkoth, 255, 256. Milton, 99, 306. MuBPHY, 103, 176. Oyid, 27, 71,148,180,257,266, 300. Paley, 199. Paksons, 239. Pepys, 211, 235, 257. Phillips Chas., 130, 218, 230. Ph(edrus, 234. Pliny, 235, 255, 256. Prescott, 197. Quintillian, 52. Rogers, 37, 41, 70. • Sanderson, 258, 286, 303, 305. ■Scott, Sir W., 16, 17, 20, 21, 36,57, 69, 70, 73, 82, 88, 93, 129, 182, 191,198,204,210,211,218,226, 228. Secker, 147, 215, 299, 305. Shakespeare, 11, 13, 20, 21, 23, 36, 45, 46, 54,'57, 61, 63, 64, 69, 83, 84, 89, 94,^ 101, 102, 103, 104, 100, 110, 126, 150, 188, 203, Shakespeare,— <;o?!fmrerception was conse(][uently very confused ; it apjDeared to me, however, that the man was dressed in a green coat ; that he had curly brown or l^lack hair, and that there was some thing peculiar in his look. Just as I was beginning to recollect myself, the curtain dropped." f Light may give one person a great advantage over another in discerning objects : — Lord Lovat, in relating an attack which, in the darkness of evening, he and his followers made against Lord Athol's troops in Scotland, in 1698, the latter acting under an order of Govern- ment to capture Lord Lovat, recounts, that Lord Athol's troops, having lighted a number of fires, and begun to prepare their supper, and Lord Lovat having marched his men within musket-shot of the enemy, the men fired, and immediately threw themselves upon their bellies. The Athol troops instantly formed them- selves behind their fires. He then adds, " If Lord * Quentin Dunvard. t Borrow's Romany Rye, Vol. II, p. 59. 18 ' OF PERCEPTION. Lovat at this moment liad had his whole force with him, the enemy might have been all cut to pieces, without the expense of ten men. He could observe their slightest movement by the light of their fires ; and they were unable to perceive Lord Lovat or any of his men at the distance of twenty paces." * A person's immediate right perception of an object seen by him may depend on his previous knowledge or ignorance of the kind of object he sees. If he has before seen any thing — an animal, a machine, an instru- ment, of the same kind as that he now beholds — he will probably at once see the nature of it, and deter- mine in his mind what it is. This was Gulliver's case, when from the shore he discovered an island afar off ; whilst his companion, the sorrel nag, was much slower in finding out it was an island at all. " I got," he says, " upon a height, and looking on every side into the sea, fancied I saw a small island toward the northeast. I took out my pocket glass, and could then clearly dis- tinguish it about five leagues oft', as I computed ; but it appeared to the sorrel nag to be only a blue cloud : for, as he had no conception of any country beside his own, so he could not be as exj^ert in distinguishing remote objects at sea, as we who so much converse in that element." f Dr. Johnson, in the course of his journey in the Hebrides, met with some hills of which he says : " Of the hills which our journey oftered to the view on either side, we did not take the height, nor did we see any that astonished us with their loftiness. Toward the summit of one there was a white spot, which I should have called a naked rock, but the guides, who had * Memoirs of the Life of Simon Lord Lovat, p. 84, ed. 1797. OF PERCErXION. 19 better eyes, and were acquainted with the phenomena of the country, declared it to be snow." * It is very common to ask a witness, wlietlier lie must have seen such or such a thing done, if it had been done : as, for instance, a blow struck ; and a usual reply is, " I think I must have seen it; it could not have been done without my seeing it." In many such cases, no doubt, what the witness says may be a just ground for the inference, that the blow was not struck, and yet it is possible that it was. The pos- sibility is jDroved, if proof be needed, by the remark- able circumstances attending the assassination of the Duke of Buckingham, as thus related by Clarendon : " This morning of St. Bartholomew, the Duke had received letters, in which he was advertised that Rochel had relieved itself; upon which he directed that his breakfast might speedily l^e made ready, and he would make haste to acquaint the king with the good news. The chamber, wherein he was dressing himself, was full of company, of persons of quality and officers of the fleet and army He being ready, and informed that his breakfast was ready, drew towards the door, where the hangings were held np ; and in that very passage, turning himself to speak with Sir Thomas Fryar, a colonel of the army, who was then si^eakiug near his ear, he was on the sudden struck over his shoulder upon the breast with a knife ; upon which he fell down dead, the knife having pierced his heart. No man had seen the blow, or the man who gave it." f When the eye perceives an object, or the ear a sound, it is very often on a sudden. So, in their famed * Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, p. 60, ed. Edinb. 1798. t Clarendon's History of the Rebellion, Vol. I. p. 28, ed. 1707. 20 OF PERCEPTION. retreat, did Xenophon and his ten thousand descry the Avished-for sea."^ '• The sea at last fi'om ColcLian mountains seen, Kind-hearted transport round tlieir captains threw . The soldiers' fond embrace ; o'erflowed their eyes TTith tender floods, and loosed the general voice To cries resounding loud — The sea I The sea ! " t So burst on Caesar's gladdened eye the march of Pompey's army to Pharsalia's j^laius. J " Things in motion sooner catch the eye * , Than what not stirs." § The shining of the eye of a person lying in con cealment is apt suddenly to betray him : " Bertram suspends his purpose stem, And couches in the brake and fern, Hiding his face, lest foemen sj)y The sparkle of his swarthy eye.-' i| To these lines Sir W. Scott adds this note : " After one of the recent battles in which the Irish rebels were defeated, one of their most active leaders was found in a bog in which he was immersed up to the shoulders, while his head was concealed by an imj^ending ledge of turf. Beino' detected and seized, notwithstandino; his precaution, he became solicitous to know how his retreat had been discovered. ' I caught,' answered the Sutherland Highlander, by whom he was taken, 4he sparkle of your eye.' Those who are accustomed to mark hares upon their form, usually discover them by the same circumstance." Sometimes perception by the eye or ear is preceded by a voluntary and active operation of the mind, exer- cising its desii'e to perceive the object ; as when one * Anabasis, iv. 7. t Thomson's Liberty, Part 11. X Lucan, Phars. vii. 235. § Troilus and Cress. A. iii. S. 3. |] Rokeby, canto iii. OF PERCEPTION. * 21 watches to see something, or listens to hear a voice or other sound. " Presently a loud and furious hiss Caused me to stop and to exclaim, ' What's this ? ' When lo ! upon the threshold met my view With head erect, and eyes of fiery hue, A vixDcr." * " List, list ; I hear Some far off halloo break the silent air." t * * * * . * Look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs Close by the ground to hear our conference." J " As the sentinel directed his solitary walk betwixt the two entrances which formed the boundary of his duty, he was startled by a strain of music, which was suddenly waked, and which, at least in his imagination, was a combination of the same lute and voice, by which he had been enchanted on the preceding day. Planted on the spot where his ear could most coiiveniently drink in the sounds, Quentin remained with his har- quebus shouldered, his mouth half open, ear, eye, and soul directed to the spot, without any other idea, than that of catching, if possible, each passing sound of the dulcet melody." § " Behind one of the old oaks, shrouding himself from observation, like a hunter watching for his game, or an Indian for his enemy, Tyrrel lay on his breast near the Buck-stane, his eye on the horse-road, which winded down the valley, and his ear alertly aAvake to every sound, which mingled with the j^assing breeze, or with the ripple of the brook." || " Going to the cart, I removed two or three things from it ; I then lifted up the shafts, and was just going * Cowper's Colubriad. t Comus. I Much Ado about Nothing, A. iii. S. 1. ? Quentin Durward. II St. Uonan's Well. 22 OF PEECEPTION. to call to the pony to come and be fastened to tliem, wlien I tliougnt I heard a noise. I stood stock still, supporting the shaft of the little cart in my hand, and bending the right side of my face slightly toward the ground, but I could hear nothing There, I heard it again, a sound very much resembling the grating of a wheel amongst gravel. . . . Again I, listened, and now I distinctly heard the sound of wheels ; nearer and nearer they drew, and presently the sound of wheels was blended with the murmur of voices. - . . . . Leaving my. cart, I came forward and placed myself near the entrance of the open space, w4th my eyes fixed on the path, down which my unex- pected visitors were coming. Presently I heard a stamping or sliding, as if of a horse in some difficulty ; the next moment appeared a man and a horse and cart ; the former holding the head of the horse up to prevent him from falling, of which he was in danger, owing to the precipitous nature of the path." " To put the ear close to the ground is an approved way of listening for footstejDs.f Prince Henry tells Fallstaff, — " Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down ; lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travelers." J The eye has capacity to see many objects at one time. AVhen in the presence of numerous objects, it may not see all, but it will of necessity see a great number of them. A man looking at a crowd of people neces- sarily sees at once many persons in it, although probably he will see only a few distinctly, and the rest after a confused manner. § * Borrow's Lavengro, Vol. III. ch. xviii. t Romeo and Juliet, A. v. S. 3. I Henry IV. Part I. A. ii. S. 2. § [Houdin, the celebrated prestidigitateur, relates how he and his son, for the purposes of their profession, cultivated the art of rapid visual observa- OF PERCEPTION. 23 So the ear has capacity to hear many sounds at one time; as many voices of persons simultaneously speak- ing ; many songs of birds in a grove. And of the many sounds, the ear cannot avoid hearing some of them ; as some of the voices, or songs ; but it Avill not hear all with equally distinctive clearness. "I remember a mass of things, but nothing dis- tinctly ; a quarrel, Init nothing wherefore,"* was the state of Cassio's recollection, so soon as he recovered from his drunkenness, in which he had quarreled and fought with Montano. So, in the case of a riot or tumult, especially if sudden, it naturally happens that the minds of many, perhaj^s of most, persons present are very much confused, and observe nothing distinctly. Their minds are rapidly withdrawn from one object to another, so tliat they observe the scene rather in one mixed and indistinct mass, than in separate defined por- tions. They look here and there, on this side and that ; in turn see different 2)arts of what is going on ; and there is very little that, separately from the mass, makes much impression on their minds. In the crowd, however, there may be gome persons, who have composure enough to prevent their minds being distracted by a multiplicity of objects, and can confine and fix their attention to particular matters only. And when the eye of the spectator has been attracted to some one thing, he may, for an especial reason — as, for instance, an interest he takes in what some one present may say or do — fasten his attention on this particular object, to the exclusion of others cal- culated to excite his notice. But in the absence of any tion, by walking past a store -window, and then ascertaining how many ob- jects they could enumerate and describe from this passing glance.— J/e- moirs of Hotidin, 256.] * Othello, A. ii. S. 3. 24 OF PERCEPTIOK. siicli cause of exclusive attention, the objects wliicli will most attract the eye, will naturally be tliose, wliicli are tlie most prominent in tlie scene. And it is certain that, during a riot or tumult, it is cjuite impossible for any one person to see distinctly all that takes place ; since while he is lookins; in one direction, somethins- else will surely be going on in another ; and as differ- ent people may see different things, so this thing may escape the notice of one person, and that of another. And under such circumstances, a prudent man interro- gated on the subject, after he has exhausted all he con- siders he can positively speak to, will, if urged or asked to say more, be inclined to say, as witnesses often have said, — " I know nothing further ; that is all I saw of the business ; I cannot pretend to say what passed be- sides." When an object is at a great distance from a person looking at it, his perception of it may be very differ- ent from what it would be, if the object were near to him. " Wordsworth has brought many a truth into life, both for the eye and for the understanding, which j^re- viously had slumbered indistinctly for all men. For instance, as respects the eye, who does not acknowledge instantaneously the magical strength of truth in his saying of a cataract, seen from a station two miles off', that it was ' frozen by distance ' ? In all nature there is not an object so essentially at war with the stiffen- ing of a frost, as the headlong and desperate life of a cataract ; and yet notoriously the effect of distance is, to lock up this frenzy of motion into the most petrific column of stillness. This effect is perceived at once when pointed out ; but how few are the eyes, that ever would have perceived it for themselves ! " * * De Quincey's Sketches (Paper on Wordsworth's Poetry), p. 260, ed. 1857. OF PERCEPTI05T. 25 A person viewing an object, approaching from a great distance, gradually discovers the form and nature of it. " Far on the horizon's verge apijears a speck, A spot — a mast — a sail — an armed deck."' * '^ I was somewhat struck when I saw one of my countrymen making his way across the wilderness. At first there was a mere moving sjDeck in the horizon ; soon it appeared that three laden camels were approach- ing, and that two of them carried riders ; in a little while we saw that one of the riders wore the European dress : and at last the travelers were pronounced to be an English gentleman and his servant." f Many of the observations before made on sight are also aj)plicable to the sense of hearing. A person's right perception of a sound heard by him may depend on his situation relative to the sound at the time of hearing, his nearness to or distance from it ; also on his capacity to hear, with perfect or sufficient distinctness, a sound far off; it may depend on the freedom of his sense of hearing from all oljstruction at the time, from whatever cause or however momentary. The air of night is more favorable than that of the day, for the transmission of sound. Gray puts down in his journal, while visiting Keswick and its neigh- borhood, — "In the evening I walked down to the lake, by the side of Crow-park, after sunset At a distance were heard the murmurs of many water- falls, not audible in the day time." J " This is certain, that whatever alterations are made in the body, if they reach not the mind ; whatever im- pressions are made on the outward parts, if tliey are * The Corsair, canto iii. t Eothen, ch. xvii. I Gray's Works, Vol. 11. p. 2(5G, cd. 1807. 3 26 OF PERCEPTION. not taken notice of within ; there is no perception. . . . . How often may a man observe in himself, that whilst his mind is intently employed in the con- templation of some objects, and curiously surveying- some ideas that are there, it takes no notice of impres- sions of sounding bodies made upon the organ of hearing, with the same alteration that uses to be for the producing the idea of sound ! A sufficient impulse there may be on the organ, but it not reaching the observation of the mind, there follows no perception ; and though the mo- tion that uses to produce the idea of sound be made in the ear, yet no sound is heard. Want of sensation, in this case, is not through any defect in the organ, or that the man's ears are less affected than at other times when he does hear ; but that which uses to produce the idea, though conveyed in by the usual organ, not being taken notice of in the understanding, and so imprinting no idea on the mind, there follows no sensation." - In Scott's " Rokeby," canto i., are these lines : *■ Far townward sounds a distant tread, And Oswald, starting from his bed, Hath caught it, though no human ear, UnshariDened by revenge and fear, Could e'er distinguish horse's clank. Until it reached the castle's bank." To these lines Sir Walter has added the note, — " I have had occasion to remark, in real life, the effect of keen and fervent anxiety in giving acuteness to the organs of sense." f * Locke on the Understanding, Book n. ch. ix. [Persons accustomed to sit in a room in which is a striking clock, very seldom are conscious of hearing it strike. ] t [Aji illustration of this is the case of Jessie Brown, at the siege of Lucknow. This young woman was in the besieged garrison, the expected relief failed to arrive, the prospect of capitulating drove her frantic, but she heard long before any other of the besieged the music played by the OF PERCEPTION. 27 A person may catcli some only of, and not all, the words, wliicli another sj^eaks ; and a consequence may be, that the words caught do not express the speaker's meanincf. A ludicrous instance of this is contained in a story thus told by Hume : " Some young gentlemen of Lincoln's Inn, heated by their cups, having drunk confusion to the Arch- bisho]) (Laud), were, at his instigation, cited before the Star Chamber. They applied to the Earl of Dorset for protection. ' Who bears witness against you ? ' said Dorset. ' One of the drawers,' they replied. ' Where did he stand when you were supposed to drink this health?' subjoined the Earl. 'He was at the door,' they replied, ' going out of the room.' ' Tush ! ' cried he ; ' the drawer was mistaken : You drank to the confusion of the Archbishop of Canterbury's enemies ; and the fellow was gone before you pronounced the last word." * Frequently it is the latter part of what is said that is heard, and not the beginning. A variety of causes may occasion this ; as noise at the commencement, the low tone of the S2;)eaker's voice at that time, or the cir- cumstance that the hearer's attention was not attracted to the speaker, until he had advanced in what he was saying. Writers, ancient and modern, agree, that the eye perceives quicker and better than the ear. f band accompanying the soldiery approaching to relief of the garrison. When she called attention to the sound, it was regarded as a delusion of her distempered imagination.] * Hume's Hist. Vol. VI. p. 251, ed. 1763. t " The business of the drama must aj^pcar In action or description. What we hear. With weaker passion will atVect the heart. Than when the faithful eye beholds the part."— Francis. Cie. De Orat. ii. ST. Ilor. De Art. Poet. 180. Otid, De Ponto, lib. iil. el. 4, 21. Simonides, or some one else, has observed that those things are most 28 OF PERCEPTIO]^. Hooker remarks, " That which we drink in at our ears doth not so piercingly enter, as that which the mind doth conceive by sight." * Hooker also says of the eye, that it is " the liveliest and the most ap- prehensive sense of all other ; " and he thinks that things presented to the eye are more fit than words to make a deep and strong impression ; that actions are better remembered than words ; and to this cause he refers the use of ceremonies performed on many occa- sions. " We must not think," he says, " but that there is some ground of reason, even in nature, whereby it cometh to pass, that no nation under heaven either doth, or ever did, some public actions which are of weight, whether they be civil and temporal, or else spiritual and sacred, without some visible solemnity ; the very strangeness whereof, and difference from that which is common, doth cause popular eyes to observe and to mark the same. Words, both because they are common, and do not so strongly move the fancy of man, are, for the most part, but slightly heard ; and fixed in the memory, which our senses have conveyed there ; and that sight is the most acute of all our senses ; and, for this reason, what we have heard we can best remember, when the hearing was accompanied by . sight. [In the report of the trial of Saurin ^J. Starr, known as The Great Nunnery Case, the reporter has this note to the proceedings on the ninth day of the trial : To day the principal sensation was caused by the pro- duction of the worn out stockings and other clothing brought by the plaintiff from the convent in Yorkshu'e, and of various articles mentioned in the evidence. On the occurrence of this spectacular incident, there was very noticeable excitement in court. Realism seldom fails to heighten the effect of language, even when those to whom the double argument is ad- dressed are men of intellect and culture. If proof were needqd that ocular illustration commands a readier and more attentive notice, from the high as well as the low in mental condition, than the clearest statement, or most forcible appeal that words will carry, such proof was this day given in the Court of Queen's Bench.] * Hooker's Sermon on the Natm-e of Pride, Vol. HI. of his Works, pv 391, ed. 1823. OF PERCEPTION. 29 therefore, witli singular wisdom it Latli been provided that the deeds of men, which are made in the i:)resence of witnesses, should pass not only with words, but also viiih certain sensible actions, the memory whereof is far more easy and durable than the memory of speech can be." ^^ Corresponding with what Hooker says, is this observation of Dr. Johnson on nations " where there is hardly the use of letters : " " Their only re^-is- ters are stated observances and practical rej^resenta- tions. For this reason, a;n asje of is^norance is an ao-e of ceremony. Pageants, and processions, and commem- orations, gradually shrink away, as better methods come into use of recording events and preserving rights." f Bishop Lowth, in his lectures on Hebrew poetiy, thus speaks of the eye : " Of the assemblage of images, which the human mind collects from all nature, the least clear and evident are those, which are explored by reason and argument; the more evident and dis- tinct are those, which are formed from the impressions made by external objects on the senses ; and of these, the clearest and most vivid are those, which are "pev- ceived by the eye. Hence, poetry abounds most in those images, which are furnished by the sens'es, and chiefly those of the sight, in order to depict the obscure by the more manifest, the subtile by the more substan- tial." X Professor "Wilson's " Noctes " contains this passage on sight and hearing : '' The memory seems to have more command over * Hooker's Ecclos. Pol. B. IV. Vol. I. of his Works, p. 303, ed. 1822. t Journey to the Hebrides, p. 108, ed. Edinb. 1798. [Mr. Mayne in his Treatise on Ancient Law, (p. 280, English ed.) speaks of the ''pcqilexed ceremonies in which ancient law delights."] I Lowth's Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews, Part II. sect, V. p. 67, ed. 1847. 30 OF PEECEPTION. sights than over sounds. We can shut our eyes, yet see all nature. But music, except when it breathes, has no residing place within the cells of the ear. So faint, so dim the dream, it hardly can be said to be, till one sino-le note awakes, and then the whole tune is suddenly let loose upon the soul." Some persons are gifted with an extraordinary power of seeing objects afar off. "The Bedouin, so often engaged in irregular warfare, strains his eyes to the horizon in search of a coming enemy, just as habit- ually as the sailor keej)S his ' bright look out ' for a strange sail. In the absence of telescoj)es, a far reach- ing sight is highly valued, and Lady Hester (Stanhope) possessed this cj[uality to an extraordinary degree. She told me that on one occasion, when there was good rea- son to expect hostilities, a far-seeing Arab created great excitement in the camp, by declaring that he could just distinguish some moving objects upon the very farthest point within the reach of his eyes : Lady Hester was consulted, and she instantly assured her comrades in arms, that there were indeed a number of horses with- in sight, but that they were without riders ; the asser- tion proved to be correct, and from that time forth her superiority over all others, in resj)ect of far sight, re- mained undisputed." f * Wilson's Noctes Ambrosiange, Vol, II. p. 256, ed. l§o5. t Eothen, cli. viii. p. 93, 5th ed. CHAPTER III. OF i:mpeession There is a capability in the mind to receive on it an impression of tilings it perceives. Wlienever a man sees or hears any thing, what he sees or hears probably makes some impression on his mind ; but often the impression is so slight and transitory, that all trace of it is soon gone. The mind is attentive to what it sees or hears, more or less, according to circumstances ; and in dependence on them, the impression of it is strong or weak, clear or obscure. The strength or clearness of the imj^ression may also depend on the power or fitness of the eye or ear to receive it. The language of Locke, when speaking of the causes of obscurity in ideas, seems here to be a2:)plicable. " If," he says, " the organs or faculties of perception, like wax over-hardened with cold, will not receive the impression of the seal, from the usual impulse wont to imprint it ; or, like wax of a temper too soft, will not hold it well when well im- printed ; or else, supposing the wax of a temper fit, but the seal not applied with a sufficient force to make a clear impression ; in any of these cases, the print left by the seal will be obscure." * One man may pass another, and in passing see him, and yet the sight of him may make little impression on his mind. He may have but a very slight impression of his features, height, or dress. But if he look at him purposely to inform himself of his features, stature, * Locke on the Understanding, Book II. ch. xxix. 32 OF IMPEESSIOX. or dress, then probably tlie impression will be deep. A man met on an unfrequented path attracts atten- tion ; while, if encountered on a high-road, he might pass unregarded. An unusual gait, manner, or dress of a j^erson excites notice. An unusual sight or sound may be deeply impressed on the mind ; as the sight of a wounded man, or a shriek of alarm. If a j)istol, knife, or other formidable weapon, is seen in the hand of a man, in a place, or at a time, which does not sort with his armed appearance, attention is drawn to him. " Upon that niglit (a peasant's is the tale) A serf that cross'd the intervening vale, When Cynthia's light almost gave way to mom, And nearly veil'd in mist her waning horn ; A serf, that rose betimes to thread the wood, And hew the bough that bought his children's food, Pass'd by the river that divides the plain Of Otho's lands and Lara's broad domain : He heard a tramp — a horse and horseman broke From out the wood — before him was a cloak Wrapt round some burthen at his saddle-bow, Bent was his head, and hidden was his brow. Roused by the sudden sight at such a time. And some foreboding that it might be crime. Himself, unheeded, watched the stranger's course." * It may be strongly impressed on ' the mind, that among an assemblage of j^ersons, some distin- guished man, one eminent by his rank, bj' his military services, or by his scientific knowledge, was one of the persons assembled. So it may make an imj^ression, that a person was there, about whom there was some- thino; remarkable, as lano;uao:e or dress seldom heard or seen. In like manner, there may be impressed on the mind a particular conversation in a company : one embracing a novel view of a subject ; a narrative rivet- ing attention by its unusual incidents. * Lara, canto ii. st. 24. OF IMPRESSION. 33 "Me in particular (to whom the Irish leaders of society were as yet entirely unknown by sight) it gratified highly to see persons of historical names — names, I mean, historically connected with the great events of Elizabeth's or Cromwell's era — attendino; at the Phoenix Park. But the persons whom I remember most distinctly of all whom I was then in the habit of seeing, were Lord Clare, the Chancellor, the late Lord Londonderry (then Castlereagh), at that time the Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer, and the Speaker of the House of Commons (Mr. Foster)." * When we see a friend, who from any cause has become altered in his appearance since we saw him last, this change is likely to make a deep imj^ression on the mind. Lord Malmesbury, in his Diary, thus men- tions the impression made on him by Mr. Pitt's altered a232:>earance the last time he saw him : " On 3d November [1805] he and Lord Mulgrave came to me in Spring Gardens with a Dutch news- paper, in which the capitulation of Ulm was inserted at full length. As they neither of them understood Dutch, they came to me to translate it, which I did as well as I could; and I observed but too clearly the effect it had on Pitt, thouo-li he did his utmost to conceal it. This ivas tlie last time I saw Mm. He promised me to come for a few days to Park Place, on his return from Bath, where he was then going, but was too ill to keep his word. This visit has left an indeliUe impression on my mind, as his manner and look were not his otvn, and gave me, in spite of myself, a foreboding of the loss with which we were threatened." f When one j^erson hears another S2:)eak, the impres- * De Quincey's Autobiograpliic Sketches, p. 225, ed. 1853. t Diaries of the First Earl of ]Malmesbui7. Vol. IV. p. 340, ed. 1844, 34 OF IMPEESSIOX. sion which the words uttered make on the mind of the hearer is frequently, not that of the very words, but of the sense or import of them. A witness, asked what he heard a person say, does in reply often mention par- ticular words, but Cjualifies them by adding, " or some- thing of that sort ; " or " some such terms ; " or " words to that effect ; " or " some expression of that description ;" " I don't pledge myself for the exact words, but cer- tainly to that effect ; " "I heard A. speak to B. to this effect : ' I think,' . De Invent, i. 29. 44 OF MEMORY. ' o'clock and 25 minutes before 5 o'clock on the same morning (witkin a time consisting of about 10 minutes only), evidence of time and distance to prove an alihi, and consequently tkat T. did not commit tke crime, may be, tkat not later tkan 25 minutes before 5 o'clock several persons saw T. walking slowly, leisurely, and composedly close to tke kouse of H., and tkat tke dis- tance of the pit of water from tke house of H., is 1 mile 7 furlouo-s and 170 vards.* If a witness H. says tkat on tke 4tk of IN'ovember, between 7 and 8 in the morning, he was at P., a dis- tance of 12 miles from his own kouse at B., and tkat at tkat time at P. an important conversation took place ; evidence to prove an alihi., or tkat H. was not at tkat time at P., but in bed at kis own kouse, may be, tke evidence of J., tkat between 8 and 9 on tke same morn- ing ske saw H. in bed at kis own kouse at B. ; and evidence to prove another alihi, in direct contradiction to that of the witness J., may be, H.'s own evidence that he was not at home till between 9 and 10 on the same mornino- • that on the same mornino; he walked from P. to his own house ; and the evidence of another witness "W., that he on tke same morning met H. at W. O. from kalf-past 8 to 20 minutes before 9, 3 miles and a kalf from P., and about 8 miles from B. In suck a case, J. is called to prove that H, could not have been at P. at the time he alleo-es the conversation to have taken place. Then again, on the other side, W. is called to show, that J. could not have T)een correct in the time she states, for that W. met H. on the road at such a time, as would render it absolutely impossible that he could have been in bed at the time J. states.f * Ashford v. Thornton, 1 Barn, and Aid. 405. 417, 418, 419, 430, 431, 439, 440. 450. t Frost's Trial (taken by Gui-ney), Evidence of Hodge, Mary JoneSi and Watts, pp. 297, 537. 534, 723, 733, 734. OF MEMORY. 45 In most cases, tlie time when a person sees, or hears or does any thing is, at the time, quite unnoticed by him, and consequently it is not at all impressed on his mind. In such a case it is not in his memory, and therefore he cannot recollect it. He may, nevertheless, be able to name the time ; and if he does, he will do it quite independently of any impression, which the time made on him. He may arrive at it by argument ; and in this way name the time with considerable, or even perfect, exactness. He may be able to say on what day or month, or other time, a particular event took place, by knowing that it happened at a marked time, as the anniversary of a birth, marriage, death, or other event " Hamlet, How long hast thou been a grave- maker ? Cloivn. Of all the days i' the year, I came to 't that day, that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortin- bras. Hamlet How long's that since ? Oloum. Cannot you tell that ? Every fool can tell that : it was that very day, that young Hamlet was born." -^ An earthcjuake made the nurse in "Romeo and Juliet " remember when Juliet was weaned.f Part of an examination relating to the time of a marriao-e was in these terms : " Q. Can you fix what year this was ? A. I believe it to be in the year 1744, but I am cer- tain it was the same year, in which the Victory was at Portsmouth. Q. Do you recollect what time of tlie year it was ? A. In the month of August, I think. * Hamlet, A. v. S. 1. t Acti. S. 3. 46 • OF MEMORY. Q. What is your reason for tliinking it was in the month of August ? A. My reason is, that it was in the time of Maun- liill fair; and also that there were greengages ripe, which the lady and gentleman were both very fond of."-" A written memorandum is a common means of re- . collection, and to this end is often recommended and made. " Lady Machetli. Yet here's a spot. Doctor. Hark, she speaks : I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly." f Two great authorities. Gray and Dr. Johnson, offer most judicious advice to travelers, to take notes in writing of what they see, and not to trust to their memory. Gray, in a letter to his friend Mr. Palgrave, who was makino; a tour in Scotland, desires him to send him some account of " the savage, the rude, and the tremendous " scenes he was making acquaintance with there ; and adds, — " It will be the easier task, as you have nothing to do but transcribe your little red books, if they are not rubbed out ; for I conclude you have not trusted every thing to memory, which is ten times worse than a lead pencil ; half a word fixed upon or near the sjDot is worth a cart load of recollection. When we trust to the picture, that objects draw of themselves on our mind, we deceive ourselves ; with- out accurate and particular observation, it is but ill- drawn at first, the outlines are soon blurred, the colors every day grow fainter ; and at last, when we would produce it to any body, we are forced to supply its de- * Trial of Ducliess of Kingston, folio, p. 110. t Macbeth, A. v. S. 1. ; and see Cymbeline, A. ii. S. 2. OF MEMOEY. 47 fects witli a few strokes of our own imagination. I suppose I have done so myself before now, and misled many a good body, that put their trust in me." * In Dr. Johnson's " Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland," after sj^eaking of his measuring a cave with a walking pole, and observing that no man should travel unprovided with instruments for taking heights and distances, goes on to say, — " There is yet another cause of error not always easily surmounted, though more dangerous to the veracity of itinerary narratives, than imperfect mensuration. An observer, deeply impressed by any remarkable sj^ectacle, does not suppose that the traces will soon vanish from his mind, and havino; com- monly no great convenience for writing, defers the de- scription to a time of more leisure, and better accom- modation. He who has not made the experiment, or who is not accustomed to require rigorous accuracy from himself, will scarcely believe how much a few hours take from certainty of knowledge, and distinct- ness of imagery ; how the succession of objects will be broken, how separate parts will be confused, and how many particular features and discriminations will be compressed and conglobated into one gross and general idea. • To this dilatory notation must be imputed the false relations of travelers, where there is no imaginable motive to deceive. They trusted to memory what can- not be trusted safely but to the eye, and told by guess what a few hours before they had known with certainty. Thus it was that Wheeler and Spen described, with irreconcilable contrariety, things which they surveyed together, and which both undoubtedly designed to show as they saw them." f * Gray's Works, Vol. II. p. 153, ed. 1S07. t P. 257, ed. Ediub., 1798. 48 OF MEMORY. A written memorandum is a transcription of an impression on tlie mind. The memorandum may be a true transcription of tlie impression ; but if the impres- sion be not a true one of the fact, as words uttered or a deed done, tlie memorandum will not contain a true rej)resentation of the fact. Supposing the fact, in- tended to be recorded, is words spoken in the hearing of the writer ; it is obvious the words may have been wrongly caught by him, and therefore wrongly im- pressed on his mind ; and if so, his memorandum of them will not be a correct representation of the words. Again, allowing the impression to have been rightly made, yet owing to the frail nature of memory, it is probable the only writing, which can be an exact copy of the impression, is, that which is written contempo- raneously, or as near as possible in time, with the im- pression. If the memorandum be not so made, it is likely it will be a more or less exact copy of the im- pression, in proportion to the time intervening between the impression and the writing. The memorandum is of value as productive of tes- timony, when it brings to mind the fact written down ; when, on the writer's perusal of it, it causes him to re- cognize the fact so vividly, that now, his recollection thus aided, he can speak to the fact simply from the original impression on his mind, and quite independ- ently of the memorandum. Supposing the memo- randum acknowledges the receipt of money, it may bring to the mind of him, who wrote it, the fact of the recei23t of the money. Sometimes a memorandum will fail to call to mind the fact mentioned in it, and yet be of value as evi- dence ; as, taking the last instance, the memorandum may not recall to the writer's mind the receipt of the money, and yet make him feel sure that he did receive OF MEMORY. 49 ifc; seeing his writing, he says he has no doubt that he received the money ; and his so saying is evidence of his receipt of it. But this evidence is pUiinly inde- pendent of remembrance of receiving the money ; the writer does not remember it. * " 'Wliere a witness, called to prove the execution of a deed, sees his signature to the attestation, and says that he is therefore sure, that he saw the party execute the deed, that is a sufficient proof of the execution of the deed, though the witness add, that he has no re- collection of the fact of the execution of the deed." f Great care is sometimes necessary, that imagination do not take the place of memory and recollection. "It is matter of frequent observation, that persons dwelling for a long time on facts, which they believe must have occurred, and trying to remember whether they did so or not, come at last to persuade themselves, that they do actually recollect the occurrence of cir- cumstances, which at first they only begin by believing must have happened. What was originally the result of imaofination becomes in time the result of recollec- tion ; and the judging of which, and drawing just in- ferences from which, is rendered much more difficult by the circumstance, that in many cases j^ersons do really, by attentive and careful recollection, recall the memory of facts, which had faded away, and were not, when first questioned, jjresent to the mind of the witness. Thus it is, that a clue given, or a note made at the time, frequently recalls facts, which had passed from the memory of the witness." J The same learned judge, whose words have just * See Maugham v. Hubbard, 8 Barn. & Cr. 14. t 8 Barn. & Cr. 16. J By Sir John Romilly, M. R. 10 Beavau, 18o. 50 OF MEMORY. been quoted, on another occasion made the following observations on the same subject : ^ " In the examination of the evidence of witnesses, great difficulties of various sorts arise ; and one of the difficulties and dangers with which the court has con- stantly to deal, in examining the evidence of witnesses, who are perfectly honest, and give their evidence per- fectly hondjide, arises from their turning inference into recollection. It frequently happens that a person, by long dwelling on a subject, thinks that a thing may have haj)pened, and he at last comes to believe that it actually did occur. I have, in various cases, had occa- sion to remark this, especially in cases of pedigree, where j)ersons are endeavoring to recall conversations about relationship, which establish their title. In these cases, it is of great importance to distinguish whether either the recollection tends to the benefit of the wit- ness, or whether he is perfectly indifferent, having no concern whatever in the matter. Undoubtedly, in the cases to which I have alluded, I have frequently found, that, when it was for the interest of the witness, by dwelling long upon the subject, he has come to believe that to have hapj^ened Avhich at first he did not remem ber ; that he has turned inference into recollection, and has at last given positive testimony, upon which the court cou'ld place no reliance, although, at the same time, willful perjury is not attributable to the witness. But then, on the other hand, this peculiar quality of memory, also, must be borne in mind (which we have frequent opportunities of observing), that a very slight and casual circumstance sometimes awakens recollection in the mind of a Avitness, who, before that, had for- gotten every thing relating to the matter. I have myself seen this on various occasions, and a veiy strong instance is present to my mind at this moment, where OF MEMORY. 51 a perfectly disinterested and respectable witness was asked if he recollected a particular transaction ; he had wholly forgotten it ; but a diary having been produced and shown to him, in which there was an entry made by himself, in his own handwriting, relating to the sub- ject, he remembered not only the matter itself, but many of the surrounding circumstances, which were proved to be indisj^utably true by the evidence of the other witnesses, and which, without the j^roduction of the book, he would probably never have remem- bered."* A person may, from different sources, have two impressions of what another has said. He himself may have heard the words at the time they were uttered; and he may have read a printed report of them. And, in such a case, if he is called u^^on to give evidence of the words he heard, he may not know from which of the two sources his present impression of them was derived ; and being, therefore, imable to say he recollects the words from the impression they made on him when he heard them, it will not be in his power to prove that he heard the words spoken. " The trial proceeded [a trial in Scotland for sedi- tion, and for having taken and administered unlawful oaths], and it was very soon established that illegal oaths had been administered, and, in all human j^rob- ability, by the 2:)risoner. But the truth of the par- ticular charge was by no means so clear. This depended on the exact words used. A very slight change of expression could easily soften the character of the oath into mere rashness, or doubt, or even inno- cence, or aggravate into worse guilt than that charged. . . . . Now, when the jirosecutor examined the * 23 Beavan, 70, 71. 52 • OF MEMORY. witnesses he chiefly relied on for the precise terms, it came ont that they had seen an oath in the news- papers, which was said to have been quoted in the House of Commons, that this was like the one they had been privy to, but that they could not sej^arate their recollection of what they had seen, from their recollection of what they had heard, so that they could not tell whether, in giving evidence, they were doing more than reciting from the newspaper. On this the prosecutor struck." " AYhen several j^ersons have been present at the same occurrence or transaction, if they afterward, and l^erhaps at difterent times, talk among themselves about it, it is very possible, or even likely, that some of them may in time come to think they saw or heard what they did not see or hear, but what others of them say they saw or heard ; and thus each one's original story may be much altered, losing something and acquiring something: there being among the talkers, quite unconsciously to themselves, and with perfect honesty and good faith, a liberal interchange of some truths, and, it may be, some fancies. Many persons have been remarkable for a retentive memory. Of the Greeks and Romans, Cicero f and Quintilian J mention several. Dr. Johnson, in his Life of Savage, relates of him, that " his apprehension was quick, and his memory so tenacious, that he was frequently observed to know what he had learned from others, in a short time, better than those by whom he was informed; and could fi'equently recollect incidents, with all their combina- tion of circumstances, which few would have regarded * Cockbum's Memorials of his Time, p. 335, eel. 1856. + Acad. Qua?st. ii. 1. J Inst. Or. xi. 2. OF MEMORY. 53 at the 23resent time, but wliicli the quickness of his apprehension impressed upon him. He had the peculiar felicity, that his attention never deserted him ; he was present to every object, and regardful of the most triflins: occurrences." * Mr. Kirby, in his Bridgewater Treatise, thus speaks of- the memory of the " lower orders " : " With regard to the memory, it is not wonderful that a being, who occupies his time and intellect with few objects, should have a more distinct recollection of certain events, than one whose attention is more divided. It may be observed of the lower orders in general, that their * Johnson's Works, Vol. III. p. 364, ed. 1787. [The following anecdote is told of Dr. Abernethy : A gentleman dining with him on a birthday of IVIrs. Abeniethy's, had composed a long copy of verses on the occasion, which he relocated to .the family circle after dinner. " Ah ! " said Aber- nethy, smiling, " that is a good joke now, your pretending to have written those verses." His friend rejoined, that, such as they were, they were en- tirely his own. " Why," said Abernethy, " I know those verses very well, and could say them by heart," and he repeated them throughout with the greatest apparent ease. The once hearing them read had enabled him to do this. — Memoirs of Abernethy^ p. 23. In the case of Palmer v. De Witt (5 Abb. Pra. R. N. S. 130), the defendant was charged with infringing a copyright of an acting drama, the defendant alleged that he obtained the play from a person who saw it acted, and carried away in his memory, the words, dresses, and scenery. Chief Justice Parsons is said to have had an extraordinarily retentive memory for every thing but the names of persons. Justice Parker said of him : " He knew every thing that was in every case in the reports, except the names." It is related of David Paul Brown, in the biographical notice prefixed to " The Forum," that he defended Judge Porter on his impeachment before the Pennsylvania Senate. The trial had occupied fourteen days, and one hundred and fifteen witnesses had been examined. Mr. Brown had taken notes of the testimony ; but on the night preceding the day on which he was to sum up, he ascertained that his notes had been inadvert- ently carried olf by his client, and he therefore, to prepare for the summing up, by an efi"ort of memory, during the night, recalled the order in which the witnesses had been examined, and the matter to which each had testified.] 54 OF MEMORY. memory, for tlie same reason, of matters within their own sphere of comprehension, is often more clear than that of persons better educated and informed." '^ It often happens, a thought will temporarily very tenaciously haunt us. We would fain get rid of it, but cannot. Such a remembrance of poor Barbara's song clung to Desdemona on the night she was put to death. f When things are once fastened in the memory, it may not be in our power ever to get rid of them, if we would. J Is it in our power to choose what we shall remember ? When Simonides, or some one else, offered to instruct Themistocles in an art to improve the memor}^, " I had rather," rej^lied Themistocles, " be taught how to forget. Things I am most unwilling to remember, these I have no power to forget." On this subject, a letter by Dr. Beattie contains the followino; anecdote : " One who was on board the Cen- turion, in Lord Anson's voyage, having got some money in that expedition, purchased a small estate about three miles from this town (Aberdeen). I have had several conversations with him on the subject of the voyage, and once asked him whether he had ever read the history of it. He told me he had read all the history, except the description of their sufferings during the run from Cape Horn to Juan Fernandez, which he said were so great, that he durst not recollect, or think of them. § It sounds well in j^oetry, that of the life of a man of three score years and ten, there is no day he does * Vol. I. p. 85, ed. 1835. t Othello, A. iv. S. 3. X Cicero, De Fiu. ii. 33 ; Acad. Qutest. ii. 1. § Life of Dr. Beattie, by Forbes, Vol. II. p. 36, ed. 1806. OF MEMORY. 5o not wish to remember ; but, in actual life, the desire is probably not common.* Illness, or old age, often impairs, and sometimes wholly destroys, the power of remembrance. One effect of the great j^lague at Athens during the Peloponnesian war was the destruction of memory ; some persons forgetting every thing, losing all knowl- edge even of themselves.f And it is related of the Flight of the Kalmuck Khan and his peoj^le from the Russian territories to the frontiers of China, in the year 1771, that the sufferino-s of these Kalmucks during: their march, from fatigue, famine, and slaughter, w^ere so intense, that very many of them lost their memory ; all records of their past life were wiped out as with a sponge — utterly erased and canceled. J An injury to the brain by a blow or fall on the head is a common cause of a temporary inability in the person who received it, to give an account of the cir- cumstances, under which it took place. Dr. Aber- crombie, in his " Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers," me4tions the following instances of this kind : " A case has been related to me of a boy, who, at the age of four, received a fracture of the skull, for which he underwent the operation of trepan. He was at the time in a state of perfect stupor, and, after his recovery, retained no recollection either of the accident or the operation. At the age of fifteen, during the delirium of a fever, he gave his mother an account of the opera- tion, and the persons who were present at it, wdtli a correct descrij^tion of their dress, and other minute particulars. He had never been observed to allude to it before, and no means were known by which he could * Martial, iv. t Thucyd. ii. 49 I De Quincey's Miscellanies, Revolt of the Tartars, p. 175, cd. 1854. 56 OF MEMORY. have acquired the circumstances wliicli he mentioned." " Some years ago I saw a boy, who had fallen from a wall, and struck his head against a stone which lay at the foot of it. He was carried home in a state of in- sensibility, from which he soon recovered, but without any recollection of the accident. He felt that his head was hurt, but he had no idea how he had received the injury. After a short time he recollected that he had struck his head against a stone, but had no recollection how he had come to do so. After another interval he recollected that he had been on the top of a wall, and had fallen from it, and struck against the stone, but could not remember where the wall was. After some time lono'er, he recovered the recollection of all the circumstances." Dr. Abercrombie also notices the following case of a want of power to recollect the circumstances which preceded and attended an accident : " A young lady, who was present at a late catastrophe in Scotland, in which many people lost their lives by the fall of the gallery of a church, escaped without any injury, but with the complete loss of the recollection of any of the circumstances ; and this extended not only to the acci- dent, but to every thing that had occurred to her for a certain time before going to church." * The effect of old age on the memory is, perhaps, nowhere more strongly depicted, than in Juvenal.f Except where illness, or old age, or some other cause * Part in. S. i. pp. 142, 14G, 151, ed. 1832. t " His loss of members is a heavy cui'se, But all his faculties decayed, are worse ! His servants' names he has forgotten quite ; Knows not his friend, who supped with him last night, Nor ev'n the children he begot and bred." — Dryden. Jmc. Sat. X. 322. OF MEMORY. 57 has impaired the faculty of memory, it is possible, and often happens, that something we have seen or heard, although many years back and even in childhood, is never fors-otten. " At the time, he [Henry Ashton] was too full of his own appearance, his sword, his laced cloak, his feathered hat, and his managed horse, to pay much re- gard to any thing else ; but he afterward remembered to the hour of his death, that Avhen the hand of his sister, by which she supported herself on the pillion behind him, touched his own, it felt as wet and cold as sepulchral marble." ^ " They had the barbarity to make us be in school during summer at 7 in the morning. I once started out of bed, thinking I was too late, and got out of the house uncjuestioned. On reaching the High School gate, I found it locked, and saw the yards, through the bars, silent and motionless. I withdrew alarmed, and went near the Tron Church to see the clock. It was only about two or three. Not a creatui-e was on the street ; not even watchmen, who were of much later introduction. I came home awed, as if I had seen a dead . city, and the impression of that hour has never been effaced." f Things which took place in childhood are often remembered, while others, though they happened later, are cpiite forgotten : " Prospero. . . . Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell ? I do not think thou canst ; for then thou wast not Quite three years old. Miranda. Certainly, sir, I can. J * Bride of Lammermoor. t Cockburn's Memorials of his Time, p. 8, ed. 1856. I The Tempest, A. i. S. 2. 58 OF MEMORY. In old age a person not unfrequently mistakes fancy for reality; lie thinks ke kas in kis memory sometking tkat never was tkere, and wkick kas no existence, ex- cept in kis imagination. Tkis weakness attendant on old age makes it often difficult to ascertain, wketker an old person's narrative is founded on reality or on kis fancy only. Boswell kad been long Very desirous of seeing and conversing witk Dr. Joknson, and at last tkey accidentally met, in 1763, at tke kouse of a Mr. Davies. Boswell, in kis life of Joknson, kas related tke particulars of tkis meeting ; and tkere is likewise an account of it given by Mr. Murpky. On tke rela- tion of tke latter, Boswell makes tkese remarks : " Mr. Murpky, in kis Essay on tke Life and Genius of Dr. Joknson (first publisked in 1793), kas given an account of tkis meeting considerably difterent from mine, I am persuaded witkout any consciousness of 6rror. His memory, at tke end of near tkirty years, kas undoubt- edly deceived kim, and ke supposes kimself to kave been present at a scene wkick ke kas probably keard inaccurately described by otkers. In my note, tciken on the very day, in wbick I am confident I marked everj^ tking material tkat passed, no mention is made of tkis gentleman ; and I am sure tkat I skould not kave omitted one so well known in tke literary world. It may easily be imagined, tkat tkis my first interview witk Dr. Joknson, witk all its circumstances, made a strong impression on my mind, and would be registered witk peculiar attention." * It kas been supposed by a writer in tke Quarterly Eeview, tkat many of Lord Eldon's anecdotes were written in advanced age, wken tke boundary, wkick * Life of Dr. Jolinson, by Boswell, Vol. 11. p. 165, note. ed. 1835 ; and sec several similar instances iu the Diary of Henry Crabb Robinson. OF MEMORY. 59 separates memory from imagination, was broken down. And tlie writer goes on to observe, — " Some of tliem are known to be exceedingly inaccurate, and we have little doubt tliatj as constantly happens at his time of life, he had confounded things talked of with things done." And the writer adds in a note, — " An instance of this common failing is mentioned by Boswell. An erro- neous account of his first introduction to Johnson was published by Arthur Murphy, who asserted that he witnessed it. Boswell appealed to his own strong recollection of so memorable an occasion, and to the narrative he entered in his journal at the time, to show that Murphy's account was quite inaccurate, and that he was not j)resent at the scene. This Murphy did not venture to contradict. As Boswell suggested, he had doubtless heard the circumstances repeated, till at the end of thirty years he had come to fancy that he was an actor in them. His good faith was unquestionable ; and that he should have been so deluded is a memor- able examj^le of the fallibility of testimony, and of the extreme difficulty of arriving at the truth." * * Quarterly Review, Vol. CIII. p. 392. ■ CHAPTER V. OF EECOGNITION. Recognitio]^- may be of a thing or person ; and any one's recognition of either must be based on Ms orig- inal perception of the object he saw, the impression the object made on him, and his retention of the impres- sion. Section I. — Recognition of a Thing. II. — Recognition of a Person. SECTION I. RECOGNITION OF A THING. A thing is sometimes singular or rare ; as either in size, shape, or color, or as the production of a foreign coimtry; and in these cases the singularity or rarity of it may make a deep impression, and this impression retained in the memory may render it easy to recognize the thino-. Often a thing is not singular nor rare, but one of a multitude of other things in most respects like it ; as the manufactured goods of particular trades, be they clothing, household furniture, tools of trade or hus- bandry, or things of any other kind; and in this case, if the particular thing possesses a 'striking difference, distinguishing it from others of its kind or species, as something wanting or superfluous in it, or some mark purposely made on, or accidentally acquired by it, as a stamp or stain, that difference may be strongly im- pressed on the mind, and being remembered will much facilitate the power to recognize the particular thing. OF RECOGNITION. Gl Again, as no two tilings are perfectly alike, there always are between several things some points of clifter- ence ; in each will be found some j^eculiarity not seen in any of the others. The thing itself maybe very minute, and its peculiarity extremely so, as in the instance of a pea, a bead, or j)in. And in a thing of greater size, and even of large bulk, its difference seen by a casual, hasty, or careless observer, may make no impression on him. He sees the thing without noticing its peculiar- ity, which therefore makes no impression on him. After leaving it he may retain some impression of it, as a whole, as of its size, shape, or color ; but having no impression of any peculiar quality in it, he is una- ble to distinguish it from other things of the same kind, and consequently cannot recognize it. A familiar example of sucli a thing is the coin in circulation : " They were all like one another, as half-pence are." * But small, even nice, points of difference, distin- guishing one thing from others of the same kind, may merely by the frequent sight of them, and without any special attention to them, make an impression on the mind. They are component parts of the thing, and go to make up the whole, of which the mind receives an impression. In these cases, the impression is of the general appearance of the thing. This sort of impres- sion is exceedingly common ; a workman has it of his tools, and most 23eople have it of their dress and other things they are frequently seeing, handling, or using. It occurs every day, that by remembrance of their gen- eral appearance, a carj^enter, mason, or other workman recognizes his tools ; and dress or other property is known again by its owner. * As You Like It, A. iii. S. 2. 62 OF EECOGl^ITIOJr. Like other tilings, handwriting may be recognized. A person recognizes a letter which he himself has written, or another person's letter which he has before seen. And then he does it from his previous impres- sion of the very writing recognized. And not only the very same, or identical writing, but also a 'person's manner or style of writing may be recognized. Almost everybody's usual handwriting possesses a peculiarity in it, and distinguishing it from other people's writing. The jDeculiarity may be extremely nice, and scarcely discernible, but still it is there, and capable of being detected. And not only the writer himself, as A., but another person, B., accustomed to see it, may have in his mind an impression of the writer's usual writing and its peculiarity ; in other words, his manner or style of writing. And if a letter or other paper written by A. is presented to B., who has not before seen it, to prove it to be in the handwriting of A., the imj^res- sion which B. has of A.'s usual writing, and its peculiar character may enable him, not to recognize the very same or identical writing, but to recognize the style of A.'s writing, and express his belief that it is the writing of A. In this case, it is comparison and judgment, which enable B. to give the evidence rec[uired. He compares the style of the writing in question with the impression he has before received into his mind of A.'s style of writing, and on that comparison he can come to the conclusion and belief, that the writing in ques- tion is in the handwriting of A. " Gloster. You know the character to be your brother's ? Echnund. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his ; but, in respect of that, I would fain think it w^ere not. Gloster. It is his. OF RECOGNITION. 63 Edmund. It is liis hand, ray lord." ^'' " Hours and. liours and hours have I spent in en- deavors, altogether fruitless, to trace the writer of the letter that I send, by a minute examination of the character, and never did it strike me till this moment, that your father wrote it. In the style I discover him, in the scoring of the emphatical words — his never-fail- ing practice — in the formation of many of the letters, and in the adieu ! at the bottom so plainly, that I could hardly be more convinced had I seen him write it." t One way to obtain a knowledge of a person's style of handwriting is to see him write, to look over him while he is writing, and observe the manner in which he forms his letters. But this observation of Avriting is very rarely made. Commonly you see a man in the act of writing, but you do not observe the manner in which he forms his letters ; and if evidence of hand- writing depended on such observation, it could very seldom be given. But writing can be sufficiently well known in other ways ; as for instance, if you have re- ceived numerous letters from a person, and you have sufficient reason to believe he himself wrote them. This reason and belief are essential, because one j^erson may, and often does, write letters for another. A person who comes to recognize another's hand- Aviiting, is obviously very liable to fall into error. One, and an abundant source of mistake is, that many persons write very much alike ; so much so, that it is often difficult to distinguish one person's hand from that of another. J * King Lear, A. i. S. 2. , t Cowper's Works (Letters), Vol. V. p. 217, ed. 1836. X [One among the many instances that might be cited in corroboration of the text was what occurred in tlie course of the investigation of the €4 OF RECOGNITION. The circumstance, beside, that few persons con- stantly keep the very same character of their hand- writing, is another fruitful source of mistake. A usual style of signatui'e, or other writing, is frequently much altered by hurry in writing, temporary nervousness, or unsteadiness of the hand, or even by the kind of pen used, quill or steel, or the badness of a pen. And it is common that a person writes different hands at dif- ferent periods of his life. This may be the effect, not only of increase in age, but of a habit contracted from time to time of writins; laro;er or smaller, of form- ing letters after a different fashion, or of using abbre- viated words, or words differently abbreviated. Handwriting is very frequently mistaken, either from accidental similarity of style, or designed imita- tion."^ " j^o observer of passing events, or reader of news- papers, during the early part of the present [nine-- teenth] century, will require to be told the history of the ex-judge Robert Johnson, the subject of prosecu- charge of forgery against John W. Hunter, in New York. Mr. Hunter was employed in the sub-treasury, and Mr. Cisco, the head of the depart- ment was examined as a witness, and swore i^ositiyely that no person could imitate Mr. Hunter's handwriting so as to deceive him (Cisco), and that he (Cisco) could not be imposed ujjon in regard to ^vritulg with which he was familiar. When he had committed himself beyond all reser- vation to this positive opinion, he was presented by ex- Judge Pierrepont, the counsel for Mr. Hunter, with a slip of paper with writing on it, and was asked if that was his own haudwi'iting. He replied that it was. His attention was called to the fact that it was somewhat blurred, but he said that made no difference ; he recognized it perfectly ; it was his own. The counsel then informed the court, that the paper was written by Mr. Levi, a clerk of Isix. Low, in the presence of several eminent witnesses who had attached their mark to it, so as to be able to identify it, and that Mr. Cisco had thus unwittingly testified to another man's handwriting as his own I If he could be so easily deceived in his own handwriting, how much more likely was he to be mistaken in that of another man ? ] * See Twelfth Night, A. v. OF RECOGNITION. 65 tion for a seditious libel, under the strange circum- stances of liis holding, at the time, a seat upon the bench, and of there being absolutely no evidence of his authorship, beyond a sort of general conviction that he was a likely person to do an act of the kind. The article alleged to be libelous was an attack upon Lord Hardwicke, in his capacity of Lord Lieutenant of L'e- land. It was published in Cobbett's Register, under the signature of Juverna, and was, in fact, composed by the judge. Nevertheless, the manuscript, although sworn by a Crown-witness to be in Mr. Johnson's handwriting, was actually written by his daughter. This circumstance he might have proved ; but as he could not do so without comj^romising his amanuensis, the jury were obliged to return a verdict of guilty." * A sin2:ular circumstance relatino; to handwritins: happened to Lord Eldon. It is thus mentioned by himself: — "A deed was tried in Westminster Hall, stated to have been executed under circumstances throw-- ing a good deal of blot upon the persons, who had ob- tained it. The solicitor, who was ^ very respectable man, said, he felt satisfaction, that there were respect- able witnesses. One was the town-clerk of Newcastle, and I was the other. I could undertake to a certainty, that the signature was not mine, having never attested a deed in my life. He looked back to my pleadings, and was sure it was my signature ; and, if I had been dead, would have sworn to it conscientiously." f One person's knowledge of the handwriting of another may be confined to his general style of writing, and may not extend to his signature. A signature may, and very often does, possess a great peculiarity, it may * Lord Cloncurry's Recollections of bis Life and Times, p. 303. t SVesey, 476. 66 OF KECOGKITION. he, in the form of the letters, or iu some flourish, which does not attend the writer's general style of writing. The j)eculiarity is made use of by some persons from mere .whim or caprice, by others from a desire to con- ceal the writer's usual style, or to make his signature difficult to be imitated. Although, therefore, a person can recognize another's general style, it may not follow that he can recognize his style of signature : this he may never have seen. On the other hand, a person may be comj)etent to recognize another's style of signature, although quite unable to recognize his general style of writing ; for of his style beyond his signature^ he may be quite ignor- ant ; and the one may be very different from the other. It is often the habit of a person to sign his name in his ordinary style of writing, making in his signa- ture no difference in the shape of his letters, or other- wise ; and yet in this case, one not acquainted with the other's style of Avriting, except in his signature, cannot recognize his style in any other ^mting, as in the body of a letter, unless he assume, or it be conceded that the style in his signature is the style of his usual writing; since his style of signature may very much differ from that of his usual writ- ing. And sup2)osiug that assumption or conces- sion to be made, it is obvious that one signature, or a hundred signatures, may lead to mistake, since the number of small letters in the name will be few, and that of capital letters still fewer, compared with the whole number of letters in the alphabet ; and a strong- probability therefore is, that many letters will be found in the body of the writing, which are not used in the signature to it ; and of the writer's style in forming these many other letters the witness has no knowl- edge. OF RECOGNITION. G7 But, on the contrary, if one is acquainted witli tlie style of another's writing, except his signature, which he has never seen ; if that style be in the signature, he can as well recognize it in the signature, as he can in any other words composed of the same letters. It is jirobably more often required to recognize a style of signature, than that of any other writing. In a great variety of transactions, the body of a 2:>aper is written by one person, and the signature to it by another ; as letters on commercial and other business, bills of exchange, promissory notes, contracts, deeds, wills. The impression which one person has in his mind of another's style of signature, may have been made by his seeing many of his signatures, or even one only. And the impression made by the one alone may, for the purpose of proving the person's signature, be as valu- able, be entitled to as much weight, as if the impres- sion were the result of seeing many of his signatures. Circumstances may have caused the impression of the style of the single signature to be very deeply and firmly fixed. Yet in ordinary cases the value of the evidence of a person's style of signature will probaldy be determined by the number of his signatures, which the witness has seen. In the above observations on recognition of a style of writing, it is suj^posed that the impression of the style was purely an incidental and unmeditated conse- quence of seeing the writing; this consequence happening of itself, without any study of, or look- ing at, the writing with the design of gaining an impression of the style, and much less for the purpose of recognizing the same style in other writing, in- tended to be submitted to comparison with it. But cases may arise w^here a style is inspected and studied 68 OF RECOGNITION. with the very design of gaining an impression of it, and of after\Yard comj^aring that impression witli the style of other writing. Now in these cases, because the impression is acquired after a different manner, through a different process, through study and design, instead of being purely an incidental and unmeditated consequence of seeing the writing, the two impressions, made in the one way and in the other, may not be equally true and faithful. But who can determine, or how can it be determined, whether they are, or are not equally true and faithful ? When an impression is / taken designedly with the view to comparison, it will be most satisfactory that the impression be taken by a person skilled in detecting a style in handwriting, and taking an impression of it, by an " expert," as he is called ; but even with this precaution, the result of the subsequent comparison may be wrong ; and allow- ing it may be right, a difference of opinion has been expressed on the propriety of admitting, in evidence of handwriting, a com23arison with it of an impression taken, although by an expert, for the very purpose of using the comj^arison in evidence."^ SECTION II. RECOGNITION OF A PERSON. With regard to person, when the person of one is distinguished from that of others by something attract- ing particular notice, as stature, feature, some defect, deformity, l)lemish, or other thing, natural or acci- dental, this seen by any one, whether frequently or not, and in some cases even once only, may make such an impression on him, as will enable him long after to re- * Doe dem. Mucld v. Suckermore, 5 Adol. and Ellis, 703. OF RECOGNITION. G9 member it, and through that remembrance to recognize the person. I " Prepared as he was to see an inauspicious and ill- looking person, the ugliness of Anthony Foster con- siderably exceeded what Tressilian had anticipated. He was of middle stature, built strongly, but so clum- sily as to border on deformity, and to give all his mo- tions the ungainly awkwardness of a left-legged and left-handed man. . . . His keen dark eyes were deep set beneath broad and shaggy eyebrows. . . . The features which corresponded with these eyes and this form, were irregular, and marked so as to be indel- ibly fixed on the mind of him, who had once seen them." * It is by the face that persons are chiefly known ; and no two faces are perfectly alike. Between them there are always some points of difference; and the points of difference in any face, combined with its form, features, and complexion, make up a whole, which constitutes the expression, or coun- tenance of the face. Generally, the face of olir most intimate friend, whom we see perhaps daily, is known to us more by its countenance than by the features and other peculiarities, which make up the countenance. And we may have a perfect impression and remem- brance of the countenance, although we may be unable to describe, with any degree of exactness, the features and peculiarities which form it ? Every face has its customary countenance, that which it usually wears ; and this may last without any observable change for some time ; it may so continue for a period in infancy, boyhood, manhood, or old age. Yet by imperceptible degrees, the face and countenance * Kenilworth, ch. iii. ; and see Cymbeline, A. v. S. 5. 70 OF RECOGKITION. are constantly, tlirougliout tlieir existence, undergoing an alteration ; and at each successive arrival at boy- hood, manhood, and old age, it is found that a change, and a great one, has in the intervening time been made in the facie ^fild countenance. So that, when we have known an "^elderly person from his childhood, we have known him with different faces and countenances. A co^^^l^nce is liable to temporary alteration; and it%^y oe said that every face, occasionally, and in tram^tion, wears a different countenance: some passion, as joy, grief, anger, fear, will produce an instantaneous, and often great, alteration in its appearance. A temj^orary change may also be artificially caused. The wearing or loss of moustaches or whiskers may have this efi:ect. So may the temporary wearing on the head false hair or a wio'. This we learn from the Vicar of Wakefield, and his resj^ectable acquaintance, Mr. Jenkinson : " I could not," says the Vicar, " avoid being surj)rised at the present youthful change in his aspect ; for, at the time I had seen him before, he appeared at least sixty. ' Sir,' answered he, ' you are little accjuainted with the world; I had at that time false hair, and have learned the art of counterfeiting every age, from seventeen to seventy.' " * A lasting alteration of countenance may be occa- sioned by an accident disfiguring the face, causing an injury to an eye, the nose, or other feature. Long continued mental distress, or bodily sickness, or hardships, will make sad inroads on a face ; quite despoiling it of the countenance it possessed before misfortune arrived, f A sure innovator on a countenance is Time. Time * Yicar of Wakefield, ch. xxv. t See Rogers' Human Life ; and Marmion, canto i. OF RECOGNITION. 71 alters the form of features, imparts wrinkles, changes the complexion, whitens and destroys liair * "It costs me not -much difficulty' to suppose that my friends, who were already grown old when I saw them last, are old still ; but it costs me a good deal sometimes to think of those, who were at that time young, as being older than they were. Not having been an eye- witness to the change that time has made in them, and my former idea of tliem not being cor- rected by observation, it remains the same ; my memory presents me witli this image unimj^aired ; and while it retains the resemblance of what they were, forgets that, by this time, the picture may have lost much of its likeness, through the alteration that succeeding years have made in the original." f If two persons, each between sixty and seventy years of age, were, forty years ago, almost daily together, and intimate friends ; but during those forty years have never met, and at the end of thiat time they happen to meet, a great ^probability is, they "will not at all recognize each other ; and if each is convinced of the other's identity, it will not be by their sight, but by their conversation, brino-ino; to each other's mind events or circumstances which took place antecedent to the forty years, and of which each has a remembrance. When Ulysses returned to Penelope after an absence of twent}^ years, she did not recognize him ; she remembered him only as he was when he left her. And when at length she was convinced he was her liusband, it was only by his conversation — by a fact * Ovid, Pont. lib. i. el. 4 ; and Bryant's Poems (The Rivulet), p. 51, Engl. ed. 1850. t Cowper's Works (Letters),.Vol. IV. p. 41, ed. 1836. 72 OF EECOGNITION. he told her of, one that took place before he went away.* It may happen that a person has not taken a correct impression of another's countenance. If it was seen for an instant only, although by day, or was seen at night, or in twilight, or afar off, or was seen as one in a mass or throng, or by a j^erson of short or other- wise defective sight, or by one intoxicated or affrighted ; either of these circumstances — the instant of time, the darkness, the distance, the crowd, the defective sight, the intoxication, the terror — may cause the impressibn to be defective, and consequently disable the person, having that incorrect impression, from identifying through it the true countenance. But assuming that one has taken a correct impres- sion of the countenance of another, the former may identify the latter by his countenance. Yet his_ power to do this will depend on other circumstances, and especially, and in all cases; on these two : one, that the countenance remains the same, or nearly the same, as it was when the impression was taken ; and the other, that the impression which wa's taken is retained. And supposing the impression taken of a 'coun- tenance was correct, yet the power to recognize and identify it may be affected by circumstances occurring at the time of exercising the power. For obstacles similar to those, which may originally stand in the way of taking a correct impression, may hinder the recognition of a countenance, in cases where it was * " The proof consisted in this — that the bed, being attached to the stump of an olive tree still rooted, was immovable ; and Ulysses, having made it himself, no person present, he must needs be apprized of the im- IDOssibility of her orders, if he were indeed Ulysses ; accordingly, this demonstration of his identity satisfies all her scruples." — Cowper. And see Cowper's Homer's Odyssey, Bk. xxiii. OF REC0GNITI02?. 73 originally correctly taken ; as darkness, distance, a crowd, defective siglit, intoxication, terror. These, or other, obstacles may wholly destroy the power of recognition of a countenance, and consequently the ability to identify it. A person may see a countenance, which it is in his power to recognize, and yet he may pass it over with- out noticing it, unless his attention be particularly directed to it. " Some, however, demanded of the j^ostillion how he had not recognized Bertram when he saw him some time before at Kippletringan ? To which he gave the very natural answer : ' Hout, what was I thinking about Ellangowan then ? It Avas the cry that was rising e'en now that the young laird was found, that put me on finding out the likeness. There was nae missing it ance ane was set to look for 't.' " * The impression taken once or twice only of a per- son's voice, gait, or carriage, may sometimes be but of little value for the pur^^ose of identifying him. The voice may not have been in its j^roj^er and usual tone, but in one accidental, arising from some j^assion, as fear or anger ; or from bodily ailment, as a cold ; or in a tone in imitation of another's voice, or otherwise dis- guising its own proper and usual tone. So the gait or carriage may not have been the person's usual gait or carriage, but one caused by temjDorary lameness, or other bodily indisposition, or assumed for the very purpose of disguise. When persons have been in the habit of seeing another very often, they may be able to recognize him, although in disguise, and even under circumstances of ■^ Gnv Mannering. I 74 OF EECOGXITIOX. sudden noise and confusion, striking terror into tlieir minds. Rusli, the murderer of ^h\ Jenny and his son, had a 2:)articular way of carrying his shoulders, and he used to keep his head a little on one side. From these peculiarities, and his height, size, and gait, he, with his face covered, and otherwise in disguise, was, at the time of the murders in Stanfield Hall, recognized by four persons, in the midst of rej^eated discharges of fire arms, and the shrieks, wounds, and death thereby occasioned.* There is sometimes a mutual recognition of the person between two, although one of them is in dis- guise, f A letter in a number of the Spectator contains the following very remarkable instance of the recognition of a schoolfellow : " Every one who is acquainted with Westminster School, knows that there is a curtain, Avhich used to be drawn across the room, to separate the upper school from the lower. A youth happened, by some mischance, to tear the above-mentioned curtain. The severity of the mas- ter was too well known for the criminal to expect any pardon for such a fault ; so that the boy, who was of a meek temper, was terrified to death at the thoughts of his appearance ; when his friend, who sat next to him, bade him be of good cheer, for that he would take the fault on himself. He kej^t his word accordingly. As soon as they were grown up to be men, the Civil "War broke out, in which our two friends took the opj^osite sides ; one of them followed the Parliament, the other the Royal party. As their tempers were different, the * The (London) Times, March 30, and April 5, 1849. t See Cowper's Retirement. OF EECOGNITIOK. 75 youth, who Lad tf)ni the curtain, endeavored to raise himself on the civil list ; and the other, who had borne the blame of it, on the military. The first succeeded so well, that he was in a short time made a judge under the Protector. The other was engaged in the unhappy enterprise of Penruddock and Grove in the AVest. I suj^pose, sir, I need not acquaint you with the event of that undertaking. Every one knows that the Royal party was routed, and all the heads of them, among whom was the curtain cham2:)ion, imprisoned at Exeter. It happened to be his friend's lot at .that time to go the Western circuit. The trial of the rebels, as they were then called, was very short, and nothing now re- mained but to pa:ss sentence on them ; when the judge hearing; the name of his old friend, and observino- his face more attentively, which he had not seen for many years, asked him if he was not formerly a Westminster scholar. By the answer, he was soon convinced that it was his former generous friend ; and without saying any thing more at that time, made the best of his way to London, wdiere, employing all his power and interest with the Protector, he saved his friend from the fate of his unhappy associates." * The countenances of two persons will be much alike when their faces possess similar features and peculiari- ties, because countenance is the effect of features and peculiarities. Several j)ersons may think the counte- nances alike ; and, if they do, it will be because each has a similar impression of each countenance. But it often happens that two countenances are thought to l.)e alike l:)y one person, but not by another, both seeing them at the same time ; the one instantly sees the like- ness, the other cannot see any likeness at all. This * The Spectator, Xo. 313. 76 OF RECOGNITION. difference must arise from tlie different impressions, whicli the countenances make; and the impressions will be different, if both persons have not similar per- ceptions of the features and peculiarities of the two faces. If the two faces are not seen at the same time, the different opinions as to the resemblance of counte- nance may arise from the countenances being really unlike each other at different times, one or both of them having in the interim exj)erienced a change. The likeness of one person to another may cause very great, and most inconvenient, and even fatal mis- takes. Antij)holus of Syracuse, the twin brother of Anti- pholus of Ephesus, experienced some of these incon- veniences : " There's not a man I meet, but doth salute me As if I were their well-acquainted friend ; And every one doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me, some in\ite me ; Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ; Some offer me commodities to buy : Even now a tailor call'd me in his shoj), And show'd me silks that he had bought for me, And therewithal, took measure of my body." * The following is a remarkable instance of resem- blance between two sisters : In November, IV 94, a woman was indicted at the Old Bailey for robbing her ready-furnished lodgings. The prosecutrix swore to the prisoner's having taken the lodgings. The prisoner said she had a twin sister, so like her that their parents could not distinsruish them asunder. A man said the sister was in custody for a similar offense ; he had seen her, and they were so alike, it was impossible to per- ceive any difference. Under these circumstances, the _ * Comedy of Errors. A. iv. S. 3, and see Ibid. A. v. S. 1. OF RECOGNITION. 77 jury acquitted the prisoner. She was a second time indicted for a similar ofltense. The prosecutrix, in this case, was positiv^e as to her identity. She had seen the sister, who, in order to deceive her, liad changed clothes with her sister, but still she pointed her out. She also distinguished their voices, and a degree of hastiness in the sister beyond the prisoner. On this second indict- ment she was found guilty." There is probably a greater diversity of intellectual character, than of countenance. And similarity in coun- tenance may be no proof of likeness in intellectual char- acter. Soufhey having mentioned the observation of the Jesuit Garasse, that he had learnt, " et par la lec- ture, et par rex|)erience, que les hommes sont plus dissemblables en esprit qu'en visage," proceeds to say — "Garasse was right; for there goes far more to the composition of an individual character than of an indi- vidual face. Two faces, even though there be no rela- tionship between the parties, may be all but indistin- guishably alike, so that the one shall frequently be accosted for the other, yet no parity of character can be inferred from this resemblance. Poor Cai^tain Atkins, who was lost in the Defence off the coast of Jutland in 1811, had a double^of this kind, that was the torment of his life ; for this double was a swindler, who, having discovered the lucky fac-simileship, obtained goods, took np money, and at last married a wife in his name. Once when the real Captain Atkins returned from a distant station, this poor woman, who was await- ing him at Plymouth, put off in a boat, boarded the ship as soon as it came to anchor, and ran to welcome him as her husband." f * New Annual Register for 1794. t The Doctor, vol. vii. p. 47-i, ed. 1847. [The folloTving case, extracted 78 OF RECOGXITIOI?. Followiug tliis story, Soutliey gives an account, " cut out of a journal of tlie day," of a coroner's inquest from the Bangor Whig, a newspaper published in Bangor, Maine, appears also in 1 Western Law Journal, N. S. 471 : "Mr. James Hause, of Coriuna, Maine, had a son named Rowland, who left home when young, and was not heard of for many years. Some months since, a young man named Luther Hause, a native of Troy, went to Bangor, I^Iaine, and, while there, some neighbors of James Hause saw him, fancied he was the missing Rowland Hause, and accosted him by that name. The young man informed them of their mistake, and avowed his real name. They did not believe him. and informed Mr. James Hause that they had seen his son. Mr. Hause went immediately to Bangor to find him, was unsuccessful in his search, and left a neighbor authorized to bring him home. The latter found Luther, and, on inviting him to go home, Luther accepted the invitation. When he reached the house he ad- dressed Mr. and Mrs. Hause as father and mother. ]\Irs. Hause had some doubts at first, as the color of the eyes and hair of Luther was entirely dif- ferent from that of her son. She referred to several scars her son had. Luther showed a scar on his knee, one on his breast, one on his neck, and an overlapping toe, all of which Rowland had. He remained at their house some five months, and the longer he stayed the more they were satisfied he was their son. Mr. Hause stated that he believed him to be his son just as much as he believed his wife to be his vdfe. Many domestic circumstances were related by the young man which they supposed could only have been known to their son, but which the impostor had probably derived from themselves in the relation of fam- ily matters, and afterward brought forward as a confirmation of his iden- tity. Several of the neighbors of Mr. Hause took this young man to be Rowland Hause. Young men who had been schoolmates wiih. Rowland, talked with Luther about past times, and became convinced that he was Rowland Hause. At last, a Mr. Dow came to Corinna, saw Luther, and said that he knew this young man, and his name was Luther Hause and no mistake, and that he belonged in Troy. Another person recognized him as Luther Hause, and said he had lived by him seventeen years. James Hause then began to doubt the fact of Luther Hause being his son ; and in order to settle the dispute existing in the family and the community, as to his iden- tity, a warrant was issued by Volney A. Sprague, Esq , against Luther, for obtaining goods under false pretenses, as he had got a watch, and several other articles, while remaining at ilr. Hause's house. He was arrested and examined. IVIr. Seth Hause, of Troy, was summoned, and appeared at the trial, and there recognized the prisoner as his son. Duiing the trial there was great excitement, and about four hundred persons were present, and apparently the mass of them in favor of Luther, OF EECOGNITIOX. 79 on the body of a girl found drowned, between whom and another young woman living there was a likeness believing him to be Rowland. The justice sustained tJie warrant. Upon the trial, the counsel of the prisoner contended that Hause and his family had deceived the young man, instead of his deceiving them ; that when he was first seen in Bangor, he stated distinctly that his name was Luther Hause ; that they dragged him to Corinna, and forced him to say that he was Rowland Hause ; there was no jDretense that he was any one else than Luther Hause ; and that James Hause, if he had opened his eyes to the light around him, might have known that he was Luther Hause. The judge charged very strongly against the prisoner. The jury, after being out a very few minutes, came into court with a verdict of guilty." A most remarkable case of mistaken identity is shown in the trial of Joseph Parker, for bigamy, in New York, in 1804. The trial is rejiorted in Edwards' Jurj'man's Guide, in the 2d volume of the American Magazine of Woqders, and in the New York City Hall Recorder. See, also, as to mis- taken identity, the 2d volume of Household Words, p. 102, The follow- ing case, being beyond all question authentic, we extract from a New York paper, and deem worthy insertion here : "On the 9th inst., the police found at 132 Cherry street, and conveyed to the ]Morgue, the body of an unknown woman, who was supjjosed to have been murdered. Her skull was fractured as if by a blunt instrument. Ellen Davis, 241 West Fourteenth street, called at the Morgue the day after the body of the woman was sent there, and identified it as that of her mother, Anna McCaflFrey, and on the next day, her sister, the other daughter, Kate McKeon, 247 Avenue B, called, and also identified the body. On the day of the funeral, Monday last, a number of the friends of the late Mrs. McCaftrey looked at the coqjse in company with the two women named, and recognizing the features bade it a last adieu. The cir- cumstance of the murder brought a large concourse to the funeral, wdiich was quite imposing. The relatives went home afterward to mourn, and the friends to speculate on the shortness of life and the frequency of mysteri- ous murders. It was an exciting topic, and was not exhausted until the next day, when to the astonishment of all, Mrs. McCafirey walked into the house where her daughters were, tartly inquired what they were ' blub- bering about.' The living Mrs. McCaffrey, it appears, was expected on a visit, from Providence, R. I., to her daughters in this city about the time they heard of the body awaiting idcntitication at the Morgue ; but she delayed her visit a few days, and in the mean time her daughters gave decent burial to a poor unfortunate." The following is abridged from the Home Journal : "In the year 1850, I was one day watching, from the window of my hotel, in Brooklyn, the operation of elevating a 'Liberty Pole' in the 80 OF RECOGNITION. SO extraordinary, that a number of witnesses, among Tvliom was the mother of the latter, swore positively to the body as that of the girl living. Toward the close of the inquest, however, the girl so supposed to be dead walked into the room, and said to one of the most positive of the witnesses, " How could you make such a mistake as to take another body for mine ? " The square beneath. A crowd had assembled on the occasion. Some of the ropes parted, and a section of the shaft fell heavily to the ground. One of the by-standers, an elderly man of the humbler class, received a blow upon the head, which produced instant death. The body was removed to the doorstep beneath my window, and the unfortunate man was at once recognized by several of his neighbors who chanced . to be present. The coroner was in the immediate vicinity, and was soon brought to the spot, when, the case being clearly one of accidental death, the formality of an inquest was shortly concluded, and the body delivered to the friends of the deceased, who removed it to his late residence. I attended the inquest which was held in an adjacent room, and heard distinctly the testimony which identified the corpse, no less than five or six witnesses declaring that they were immediate neighbors of the deceased, whom they unhesi- tatingly recognized. The afiair produced no other impressions than those natural on wit- nessing such a sad occurrence, and might have passed into oblivion, had I not, the next morning, heard the sequel, and subsequently satisfied myself, by personal investigation, of the accuracy of the details. They were . briefly as follows : The corpse was conveyed to the house of the deceased, and met at the door by the widow, who embraced it iii an agony of dis- tress, and indulging in those extravagant demonstrations so common in women of her class. She was finally induced to retire to her apart- ment. The body was deposited in an adjoining chamber, and the by- standers gradually dispersed. A few hours after, the woman's husband re- turned home. The explanation is very simple. The deceased jiroved to be an entire stranger. The jDcrsonal resemblance between the two men was very strong, and their garments also similar. In the horror of the moment, the recognition by the neighbors was not surprising, while the wife had been already apprised, by a messenger, of the fatal event, was prepared to receive her husband's corpse, and did not stop to scrutinize closely the familiar features, but, the first burst of grief over, tm-ned away to indulge her agony, leaving to others the task of disrobing the corpse. Perhajjs a subsequent examination of the clothing might have led to a discovery of the error."] OF RECOGNITION. 81 result was, there was no evidence to prove who the deceased was. When one at the same time takes an impression of a person, and of the dress he is then wearing, a recol- lection of the dress may be an auxiliary power to iden- tify the person ; yet it is obvious that this identification ought mainly to rest on the remembrance of the person, independently of the dress ; for the dress, of which the imj)ression was taken, may have many likenesses; as, for instance, soldiers' uniform, laborers' frocks ; and the dress supposed to be the one remembered, and used to identify it, may be one of those likenesses ; and in proportion to their number will be the danger of mis- taken identity of person. And besides, admitting the dress to be rightly identified, it does not follow that the person who wore it, when the impression of it was taken, is the man who owns and now wears it, and Avhose identity is in question ; for it might have been lent, by him, or stolen from him, and by one of these, or some other, means have clothed another person, when the impression of the dress was taken. Dress is sometimes more noticed than the person is, who is wearing it, especially if the observer's daily oc- cupation is connected with dress : — " ' May I ask her appearance, sir ? ' said Tressilian. ' O, sir,' replied Master Goldthred, ' I promise you she was in gentlewoman's attire — a very quaint and pleasing dress, that might have served the Queen her- self: for she had a forepart with body and sleeves, of ginger-colored satin, lined with murrey taffeta, and laid down and guarded with two broad laces of gold and silver. And her hat, sir, was truly the best fashioned thing that I have seen, being of tawny taffeta, embroid- ered with scorpions of Venice gold, and having a 82 OF EECOGNITIOIS\ border garnished witii gfeld fringe. Toucliing lier skirts, they were in the old pass-devant fashion.' ' I did not ask you of her attire, sir,' said Tressilian, ' but of her complexion — the color of her hair, her fea- tures.' ' Touching her complexion,' answered the mercer, ' I am not so special certain ; but I marked that her fan had an ivory handle, curiously inlaid ; — and then again, as to the color of her hair, why, I can warrant, be its hue what it might, that she wore above it a net of green silk, parcel twisted with gold.' ' A most mercer-like memory,' said Lambourne ; ' the gentleman asks him of the lady's beauty, and he talks of her fine clothes ! '" * * Kenilwortb, cU. ii. CHAPTER VI. OF CERTAIN FACTS COM.AION IN EVIDENCE. Section I. — Of Length of Time. II.— Of Speed. III.— Of Distance of Place. IV.— Of Falsehood. V. — Of Self-conyiction. VI.— Of Character. SECTION I. OF LENGTH OF TIME. When a person speaks to tlie length of time wliicli was consumed in doing something, wlietlier by tlie speaker, or some one else, it may happen that the time was known, and is remembered, by having at the time looked at a watch, or heard a clock strike. " I grant you I was down, and out of breath ; and so was he ; but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long horn- by Shrewsbury clock." * So if from any cause length of time is, purposely to know it, marked from beginning to end ; to ascer- tain, for instance, how long a person is speaking, or is passing from one place to another by walking, running, or riding ; in such cases, the length of time is im- pressed on the mind, and is, therefore, commonly and easily remembered. But where there is not a particular object in marking length of time, it commonly happens that a person who himself does any thing, or observes another doing it, does not in the progress of the act or * Henry IV. Part I. A. v. S. 4. 84 OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. work, nor at its comj)letion, note the lengtli of time so employed. In siicli a case, tlie time while passing on, or when completed, does not leave any impression, and consequently cannot be in the memory, or be remem- bered. In a case of this kind, if a person undertakes to speak to the length of time, what he says will not be from memory ; it may be from argument in his own mind, that the thing done did probably take the length of time he speaks to : ''Hamlet. . . . Stay'd it long ? Horatio. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred." * In these cases, where length of time is founded on probability onl}^, there is necessarily some uncertainty about the exact length. For whafc in one person's mind might be an hour, might in another's be half an hour, or an hour and an half And it is, besides well known that few persons have a just notion of the length of a small space of time. " It has been truly observed/ said Chief Baron Macdonald on an impor- tant trial, " that there is nothing we are so little in the habit of as measuring, with any degree of correctness, small portions of time. I am persuaded that, if any one were to examine with a watch, which marks the seconds, how much longer a space of time a few seconds, or a few minutes, really are, than people in general conceive them to be, they would be surprised ; but, in general, when we speak of a minute, two minutes, or an instant, we can hardly be understood to mean more than that it was a very short space of time." f Great mental trouble or anxiety may make past time to appear much longer than it really was. Pepys * Hamlet, A. i. S. 3 ; and see ante, page 45. t Trial of Patch (taken by Gumey), p. 171. OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. 85 enters in liis diary, Wednesday, otli September, 1G66, in the midst of the fire of London, which began on Sunday morning, the 2d, " It is a strange thing to see how long this time did look since Sunday, having been always full of variety of actions, and little sleep, that it looked like a week or more, and I had forgot almost the day of the week." Sir Augustus Frazer, in a letter written by him on the 2 2d of June, 1815, after the Battle of Waterloo, which was [terminated] on the 18th, says, " How misery prolongs time ! It already seems an age since we were at Brussels ; the very day of the 18th seems an age ago." * It was no doubt the an- guish of mind of Don Quixote's housekeeper, through her fancied mischances befallen ker master^ that made her exclaim, on his first return home after an absence of only two days and a night, that neither he, nor his horse, nor his arms had been seen for six days, f Length of time is often very important in evidence, as a measure by whicli to judge of the possibility, or probability, of doing something said to have been accomplished. ;j; , SECTION II.- OF SPEED. As a matter of evidence, it is frequently of con- sequence to know the speed with which a person was riding or driving at a particular time. Accidents are every day occurring from fast riding or driving : a child is run over, a carriage is overturned. In these cases, few spectators, perhaps, will be able to say, with even * Letters of Sir A. Frazer, p. 565. t Don Quixote, Part I. eh. v. X It is often important to measure a transaction by time, and to see whether one of such magnitude, or containing so many things, could be accomplished within it. — Cic. De Invent, i. 26. 86 OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. tolerable accuracy, the rate of speed at whicli tlie person wlao caused the accident was going. To do tliis satisfactorily requires a former attention to sj^eed, witli a view to determine tlie rate of it : and from tliat attentioD, an experience, grown intQ a liabit, to settle a rate of speed on any particular occasion. " I could not but observe with alarm the quickened motion of our horses. Ten years' experience had made my eye learned in the valuing of motion ; and 1 saw that we were now running thirteen miles an hour." * Dr. Henry, speaking of the Britons, Gauls, and Germans, tells us, on the authority of Caesar f and Tacitus, J " It was a common practice among all these nations to mix an equal number of their swiftest footmen with their cavalry ; each footman holding by a horse's mane, and keeping pace with him in all his motions." And he adds, " This way of fighting con- tinued so long among the genuine posterity of the Caledonians, that it was practiced by the Highlanders in the Scots' army in the civil wars of the last [seven- teenth] century." § Neither Caesar nor Tacitus men- tions the swiftness, or the size, of the horses — imj^or- tant points in judging of the activity and speed of the men. The annals of the " Sporting World " doubtless furnish remarkable instances of man's swiftness of foot ; but, as a fact in common evidence, it is not the extra- ordinary feat of a pedestrian that rec^uires attention, but the ordinary pace of a man in walking or running, cind, especially, the ability of the individual, whose * The English Mail Coach, De Quincey's Miscellanies, p. 33G, ed. 1854. t De Bel. Gal. i. 39. I Gemi. yi. § Henry, Hist. B. I. ch. OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. 87 speed on a particular occasion it may be important to know. Speed is greatly governed by the nature of tlie ground j^assed over, being accelerated or retarded by the evenness, or roughness, of it, and by its form of plain or hill. So obstructions of any kind in the way, whether constant or casual, may hinder, and, on the other hand, freedom from them may assist, the rate of speed. The greatest impulse to speed is given by the motive for it. If the word goes forth, " Escape for thy life ; look not behind thee," — the utmost attainable swiftness may be expected as the result. When the malefactor, thief, or murderer, meditates an alihi^ and, escaping from the scene of his crime, thinks, if he says not, " Would I were safe at home in bed ! " * no strain on his muscular powers is spared to mend and keep ujd his pace. • In Scotland, in former days, swiftness of foot was sometimes put to a severe trial, when a Highland chief summoned his clansmen to a rendezvous by sending out the '-^Fierij Cross ".* " Then Roderick, with impatient look, From Brian's hand the symbol took : ' Speed, Malise, sjieed ! ' he said, and gave The crosslet to his henchman bi-ave ; ' The muster place be Lanrick mead — Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed ! ' Herald of battle, fate, and fear, Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! The wounded hind thou track'st not now, Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough. Nor pliest thou now thy flying jjace, With rivals in the mountain's race ; * Gav. 88 OF CEETATIf FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. But danger, death, and warrior-deed. Are in thy course — speed, Malise, sj^eed ! " * ' ■ On the siiljject of these verses, Sir Walter Scott, among the notes to the same poem, says, "When a chieftain designed to summon his clan, upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of any light wood, seared its extremities in the fire, and extiDo-uished them in the blood of the animal. This was called the Fiery Oross^ or the Cross of Shame^ because disobedience to what the sj'mbol implied in- ferred infamy. It was delivered to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it to the next ham- let, where he presented it to the princi^Dal pei'son, with a single word, im23l3'ing the place of rendezvous. He who received the symbol was bound to send it forward, with equal dispatch, to the next village ; and thus it passed with incredible celerity through all the district which owed allegiance to the chief, and also among his allies and neighbors, if the danger was common* to them. At sight of the Fiery Cross, every man, from sixteen years old to sixty, capable of bearing arms, was obliged instantly to rej)air, in his best arms and ac- couterments, to the place of rendezvous. He who failed to appear, suffered the extremities of fire and sword, which were emblematically denounced to the disobedient, by the bloody and burnt marks upon this warlike signal. During the civil war of 1745-6, the Fiery Cross often made its circuit ; and upon one occa- sion it passed through the whole district of Breadal- bane, a tract of thirty-two miles, in three hours." On a pressing necessity, a horseman may, in Shaks- peare's strong expression, devour the way : * The Lady of the Lake, canto iii. OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IX EVIDENCE. 89 " After him came, spurring hard, A gentleman almost forespent with speed, He seem'd in running to devour the way. Staying no longer question." * SECTION ni. OF DISTANCE OP PLACE. The distance of one place from another is often a material fact in evidence. If a person does not know what the distance is by measure, he may take it from common report, — from what it is called : "How far is'tcall'd to Fores ?"t • Or he may take it from some kind of argument in his own mind about it. He may know that to walk from the one place A. to the other B. takes him such a time ; and that he consumes the same time in walking from some other place C. to another D., the distance be- tween which he knows. ' Then, supj^osing the two paths or roads to be alike, as both level or both hilly, and both to be free from obstruction, or neither to possess an obstruction which the other does not, in such a case, the time spent in the walk may lead him to conclude the distance between A. and B. to be the same as that between C. and D. Common report maybe a very unsafe guide. Dr. Johnson thus speaks of the dimensions of the Island of Raasay, and others of the Hebrides: "The length of Raasay is, by computation, 15 miles, and the breadth two. These countries have never been measured, and the computation by miles is negligent and arl)itrary. . We observed in traveling, that the nominal and real ¥ , . - * Heniy IV. Part ii. A. i. S. 1. t Macbeth, A. i. S. 3. 7 90 OF CERTAET FACTS COMMON IX EVIDENCE. distance of places had very little relation to eacli otlier," * The occujiation of some persons may make tliem more fit than others to determine distances, without measuring; as surveyors of roads, and laud-surveyors. And many persons can, from experience, pretty accur- ately tell short distances without measuring. But this is not the case with all; for some are much puz- zled to determine even very short distances. An ob- vious and common method to learn from them the dis- tance of one spot from another, as from A. to B., is to comj)are distances, — to proj^ose to them a certain distance, which they know, or see ; as the length of a particular street, or building, or room, and inquire if this distance corresj)onds with the distance from A. toB. There may be different distances between one place and another ; judging by the diiferent ways, which may be used between them. There is distance in a straight line, " as the crow flies ; " and distance by this or that path or road. And in these cases, the time re- quired to pass from the one place to the other may vary with the distances, and the obstructions to be overcome. The measured distance from a pit of water round by E., to the farm-house of H., is 2 miles and 4 furlongs. A second, and the most ready and acces- sible, way from the pit to the farm-house, and also the way which could be gone over in the shortest possible time by any person traveling the same on foot, is from the pit across certain fields into the C. turnpike road, and so across the road and other fields into and alono- a lane leading by the house of L., and so along another lane to the farm-house of H. But the distance from * Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, p. 100, ed. Edinb. 1798. OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. 91 the pit of water to tlie farm-liouse of 11. , measured in the direction of the last way, is 1 mile 7 furlongs and 170 yards. A third, and the shortest way, is that in a straight line. And the measured distance from the pit of water in a straic-lit line to the farm-house of H., is 1 mile 4 furlongs and 60 yards ; but there is no foot- path or other way in this direction, except for the dis- tance of about 100 yards, being from a bridge across a canal to the farm-house ; and from the intersections of hedges and fences of inclosures lying between the pit of water and the bridge, and the difficulties of the ground, it would require a longer time to arrive at the farm-house by this course of the straight line, than by taking the more circuitous and accessible course secondly pointed out.'* The peculiar knowledge, which an Irish peasant has of distances, is thus mentioned by Sir Jonah Bar- rington : " I have often heard it remarked and com- plained of by travelers and strangers, that they never could get a true answer from any Irish peasant as to distances^ when on a journey. For many years I myself thought it most unaccountable. If you meet a peasant on your journey, and ask him how far, for instance, to Ballinrobe ? he will probably say it is ' three short miles.' You travel on, and are informed by the next peasant you meet, that 'it is Jive long miles.' On you go, and the next will tell ' your honor ' it is four miles, or about that same. The fourth will swear, ' if your honor stops at three miles, you'll never get there.' But on pointing to a town just before you, and inquiring what place that is, he replies, 'Oh ! plaze your honor, that's Ballinrobe, sure enough ! ' ' AVhy, you said it was more than three miles off ! ' ' Oh yes ! to be sure * Ashford i\ Thornton, 1 Barn. & Aid. 420, 421, 440. 92 OF CERTATSr FACTS CO]SIMON IX EYTDENCE. and sartain, that's horn my oiun cdbin^ plaze yer honor. We're no scliolards in this country. Arrah ! how can we tell any distance, plaze your honor, but from our own little cabins ? Nobody but the schoolmaster knows that, plaze your honor.' Thus is the mysteiy un- raveled. When you ask any peasant the distance of the place you require, he never computes it from where you then are^ but from liis oion cabin / so that if you asked twenty, in all probability you would have as many different answers, and not one of them correct." * SECTION IT. OF FAI.SEHOOD. A falsehood is a common subterfuge of guilt. • " I know not," said Cain, when Cain did know : so early do we read of the sin of lying, as a consequence of crime. It is the readiest instrument at hand to parry suspicion with, and it is usually supported by a bold front, f The guilty man will affirm or deny, as he thinks will suit his puipose. He will deny he is the person who, at such a time, was at such a place, and will affirm he was then elsewhere. He ^^-ill deny that a particular thing, j)roved to belong to him, is his prop- erty. But when an accused person tells a falsehood, then, as to the particular thing he falsely affirms or de- nies, that particular thing, according to the circum- stances, may, or may not, hurt him. If he denies that, at such a time, he was at such a place, the proof that he was then there may, or may not, hurt him ; or if he denies that a particular thing is his property, the pi'oof * Sir Jonah Barrington's Personal Sketclies, Yol. I. p. 151. t Juvenal, Sat. xiii. 75. OF CEKTATX FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. 93 that it is his property may, or may not, hurt him. Either proof mil, or will not, injure him, according as the fact proved is consistent or inconsistent with inno- cence. But in either case the falsehood tends to preju- dice him. For experience teaches, that commonly, in matters of moment, a lie is not uttered without a suffi- cient motive ; and therefore from the lie a just infer- ence is, there was a motive for it ; and, allowing a mo- tive, it is not, unreasonable to conclude it sprang from a consciousness of guilt. And in this way the falsehood becomes a fact, that is evidence against the accused ; and, put into the scale against him, must have its due weight allotted to it. SECTION V. OP SELF-CONVICTION. Words unwarily dropped may speak guilt, and lead to conviction of it.'^' On this suljject, Sir Walter Scott has the following note to a passage in Roke- by : f " All who are conversant with the admin- istration of criminal justice must remember many * " The self-con\dcted felon dies." — Gay. Many men, througli impru- dence in talking, have fallen into trouble; as lately happened to Stajonus. While talking of certain matters, he was overheard by persons, who were listening on the other side of the wall between them ; and on theh evi- dence he was condemned to death. A similar circumstance is related of Pausanias, the Lacedaemonian. — Cic, Topica^ 20. [The poet Ibycus, jour- neying to Corinth, Avas assailed by robbers ; as he fell beneath their mur- derous strokes, he looked around if any witnesses or avengers were nigh. No living thing was in sight save a flight of cranes high overhead. He called on them, and to them committed the avenging of his blood. Long after, his murderers, setting in the open theatre at Corintli, beheld a flight of cranes hovering above them, and one said scofiingly to another, " Lo there, the avengers of Ibycus ! " The words were caught up by some near them, and they, being questioned, betrayed themselves, and were executed. The Cranes of Ibycus passed into a proverb. — Trench^ Lesnonsin Proterhs.] t Rokeby, canto ii. 94 OF CEETAIN FACTS C0M3I0X IX EYIDEXCE. occasions in wliicli malefactors appear to have con- ducted themselves ^vith a sj^ecies of 'infatuation, either by making unnecessary confidences respecting their guilt, or by sudden and involuntary allusions to circum- stances, by which it could not fail to be exposed. A remarkable instance occurred in the celebrated case of Eugene Aram." Self conviction may be by deed, as well as word ; by some inadvertent act done. Shakspeare attributes Cardinal Wolsey's fall in a great degree to some pa- pers, which he carelessly put into a packet for the king.* Dr. Johnson, in his journey to the Hebrides, gives (p. 124) this account of the discovery of a consj^iracy formed by Hugh Macdonald, who was next heir to the dignity and fortune of his chief Hugh, being so near his wish, was impatient of delay, and had art and in- fluence sufficient to engage several gentlemen in a plot against the laird's life. Something must be stipulated on both sides, for they would not dip their hands in blood merely for Hugh's advancement. The compact was formally written, signed by the conspirators, and placed in the hands of one Macleod. It haj^pened that Macleod had sold some cattle to a drover, who, not having ready monej^, gave him a bond for payment. The debt was discharged, and the bond redemanded ; which Macleod, who could not read, intending to put into his hands, gave him the conspiracy. The drover, when he had read the paper, delivered it privately to Macdonald, who, being thus informed of his danger, called his friends together, and provided for his safety. * Henry Vm. A. iii. S. 3. OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. 95 SECTION VI. OF CHARACTER. On a criminal trial, it is common for tlie person accused to bring witnesses to speak to his character; in which case the testimony of character is part of the evidence, on which the conclusion of guilty or not guilty is arrived at. The ol)ject of it is to exculpate the accused, to cause him to be acc[uitted. This kind of testimony presupposes that there is some evidence against the accused, tending to prove that he is guilty ; for otherwise, testimony of exculpa- tion would not be needed. Character is useful in doubtful cases. If on the rest of the evidence there is a doubt whether the accused is guilty, then evi- dence of character ought to have its proper weight, and may have, and often has, the eifect to turn the scale in favor of innocence. . The nature of evidence to character is, that it is the witness's inference and o23inion only ; inference and opinion drawn from facts. The fiicts may be, what the witness has heard the accused person say, or w^hat he has seen him do ; or his general conduct, which has come under the witness's own personal observation. An opinion of character amounts to probability only ; it cannot be set higher than this. From such and such facts, the inference is, not that it is certain, demonstra- ble, that the moral nature of the accused, at the time of the imputed offense, was such that he could not commit it, but that it is not probable he would com- mit it.* * [The doubtful value of testimonials to character, is exhibited in the following account abstracted from 1 Albany Law Journal, CO : A man, called Goodwin, was convicted, on the clearest testimony, of an indecent assault. A police officer stated the prisoner to have been known to him 96 OF CEETAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. The weiglit of the opinion must be in a great de- gree governed by the opposite natures of the character and offense. If the charge be of fraud, or theft, the character should be of honesty; if of perjury, of 'res- pect for an oath ; if of homicide, of gentleness of dis- position ; if of treason, of loyalty. The witness may infer it is not probable the honest man would be guilty of fraud or theft ; nor he who respects an oath, of per- jury ; nor the man of gentle disposition, of homicide ; nor the loyal man, of treason. On the trial, in 1840, of Frost for high treason, by levying war against the Queen, the Chief Justice Tin- dal, in his summing up, explained to the jury the gen- eral nature of the evidence of character, and the jury's duty with regard to it. One of the witnesses for the prisoner had said, he had frequently heard Frost make speeches in public, and he had always heard him speak in favor of peaceable behavior, and against force. After noticing this evidence, the Chief Justice contin- ued : " Several other witnesses give their testimony to the same effect as to the character of "Mr. Frost. That is matter for your consideration, when you are deter- for many years, as one of a gang addicted to sucli practices. On this lie was sentenced to seven years penal servitude. Afterward an application was made to suspend the execution of the sentence to enable the convict to produce testimony, showing the police officer to have made a mistake as to the convict's previous character and habits. This was granted, and several witnesses of undoubted respectability were examined, who stated they had known the prisoner for some years, and that his conduct, so far as they could judge, was decent ; and a clergyman of distinction wrote the judge, that he had had the prisoner under his eye for a long time, and that the prisoner's behavior had always been praiseworthy. This testimony was met with overwhelming proof, that whatever might be the prisoner's char- acter by day, at night he was the kind of person the officer described him. May not this kind of transformation, says the writer, account for many contradictions between reputation and fact ? and may not the respectabil- ity of noon be a mask for the rascality of night ?] I OF CERTAIX FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. 97 mining whetlier or not tlie prisoner is guilty of tlie charge, wliicli is now imputed to liim. It is T^y no means decisive in his favor ; hut it is a fact, wliicli you are to weigh, when you are giving effect to the testi- mony brought on the side of the prosecution. The nature of evidence given to character is, to show that the 2:>risoner, who is of a peaceable disposition, and averse from mixing himself up in such quarrels and affrays and tumults, as are now laid to his charge, is not a person likely to be guilty of the crime of high trea- son, by levying war against the Queen. It is, however, only for your discretion to give the Aveight that is due to it. The general character of a man will make it very often improbable that he should commit a particular crime that is imputed against him. A man, who has a general character for honesty, is not likely to commit a theft. A man, w^ho has a peaceable and well-disj^osed character, and recommends to others peace, upon occa- sions of general disturbance, is not likely to be a person who would commit an act of violence, by levying war. But it is, at best, no more than a question of probability, to be put in opposition and ^yeighed against the evi- dence of the fact. If the evidence, which goes to tlie fact, is sufficiently strong to convince you that the act of criminality, which is imputed to him, was actually committed, then it is no more than weighing probability against fact. If the scales are hanging even, and you feel a doubt whether the party is guilty or not of the act charged against him, then undoubtedly you will give him the full benefit of such testimony of general character, which he may liav6 earned by his previous conduct in life. You are to weigh it, not as dh'ect evi- dence in the case — not as positive evidence contradicting any that has been brought on the other side — l)ut as testimony, probably, to induce you to doubt, whether 98 OF CEETAIX FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. tlie other evidence is correct, and not to discard that evidence, if you think that it is so." * It ought to appear from the witness's evidence, that he has had full opportunities of knowing well the char- acter to which he takes upon himself to sj^eak. And, moreover, his mental power rightly to infer the character he gives ought, perhaps, in some degree, to appear from his evidence ; but probably this power is usually more assumed, than proved. And to judge of the weight of evidence to character, it should not altogether be lost sight of, that the witness is called by the person accused, and purposely to bear favorable testimony ; and there- fore from amongst relations, friends, or other persons kindly disposed toward him. And from this circum- stance it should not be forgotten, that friendly bias or influence may rule or bend the mind of the witness, and consequently give to his evidence undue color or streno'th. The time when the witness drew his inference of character is very material. The nearer it comes to the time of the imputed oifense the better. In effect, what the witness says is, he thinks that, at such a time, the accused would not commit the offense imputed to him. Many crimes, no doubt, take place through a man's vicious propensity to them ; when they are committed usually with forethought, and often habitually, or as a j)art of the business of life. Among offenses of this description, stealing is prominent. But a knowledge of mankind, and constant experience in the world, teaches that frequently crime dej)ends very much on tempta- tion ; so that, where there is no temptation, there is no crime ; but let temptation come in the way, it is not withstood, and crime is the result : — temptation, it may * Trial of Frost (taken by Gurney), p. 749. OF CERTAIN FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. 99 be, by otters, but more commonly, perhaps, of this kind — when a man " is drawn away of his own lust and enticed." Temptation, to be effectual, must correspond with the present desire of him Avho is tempted. Want of food or raiment may tempt a man, destitute of these necessaries of life, to steal. The bait must be suited to the prey ; and if it is not, it will fail. What may be a strong tem2:>tation to one man, may be none at all to another.^" And, again, the same thing that, in a former period of a man's life, or in the last year or month of it, or even yesterday, might have strongly tempted him, may over the same man now have no power whatever. Age, health, moral improvement, and a variety of other causes, may occasion this difference in the force of temj^tation. And, on the other hand, what will now tempt a man, and lead him into crime, might not have had this power at an earlier period of his life. Or, guilty now, he may have lived innocent through former years, merely because temptation did not then come in his way.f The above considerations show the importance of the time of which a witness to character sj^eaks. And, in fact, the witness is constantly cross-examined on the article of time. And the effect of this cross-examina- tion may be wholly to destroy the witness's evidence in chief. On the trial of Colonel Despard, in 1803, for high treason. Lord Nelson was called as a witness to his character. And, speaking of a particular time during which they had served together. Lord Nelson said : " In all that period of time, no man could have shown more zealous attachment to his sovereign and * See Paradise Regained, B'k ii. t Henry V. Act ii. S. 3. 100 OF CERTAET FACTS COMMON IN EVIDENCE. \ liis country than Colonel Despard did. I formed the higliest opinion of him at that time, as a man and an officer, seeiuo: him so willincr in the service of his sovereio'u." Lord Nelson was then cross-examined ; the whole of this examination consisting of the three fol- lowing questions and answers : " Q. What your lordship has been stating was in the years 1779 and 1780? A. Yes. Q. Have you had much intercourse with Colonel Desj^ard since that time ? A. I have never seen him since the 29th of April, 1780. Q. Then as to his loyalty for the last twenty-three years of his life, your lordship knows nothing. A. Nothing."* In the present century (to go no further back) the instances in this country are hardly rare of men (may their names be forgotten), men of station, highly educated, who, succumbing to temptation, have ex- changed honor for infamy. If j^roof were needed to show the vast power of enticement, it is found in the prayer, " Lead us not into temptation." * Trial of Col. Despard (taken by Gumey), p. 174. CHAPTER VII. OF SUSPICION. De, JoHNSOi^ defines suspicion to be, " Imagination of sometliing ill without proof." With this agree the suspifions, fancied wrongs, which Terence j)laces among the troublesome incidents to love.* And the diiferent kinds of suspicion mentioned by Bacon, in his essay on the subject, those which " dis- pose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolution," are thoughts without proof, images ■floating in an obscure atmosphere. " Suspicions amongst thoughts," he says, " are like bats amongst birds, they ever fly by twilight." A suspicion that a person entertains may be grounded on something which he either sees or hears. And those which sj^ring from what is heard through some tale-bearer, ar^ j)ointed out by Bacon as of the most noxious kind. These he likens to the stins: of an insect ; others to the harmless buzz of it. " Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers are but buzzes ; but suspicions that are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings." Some men have so much mastery over themselves that they do not sufter their faces to betray their hearts, although agitated by strong passion ; or if there is not a perfect concealment from all beholders, there is fi'om some, f * Ter. Eun. A. i. S; 1. t Richard III. A. iii. S. 4. 102 OF SUSPICION. But tills power over tlie countenance is probably not common ; and certainly a usual source of suspicion is a person's look, gesture, or manner, wliicli discloses some painful or disturbed state of his mind ; Ms sense, it may be of guilt.^ A j)erson's countenance, liowever, may raise sus- picion, yet not of guilt ; for happily a sense of guilt is not so common as feelino;s of an innocent character. A face often foretells unwelcome news. Such a one wore Gulliver's master, the Houyhnhnm, on his commiinicat- ing to Gulliver the intelligence, unpleasant to both, that he must leave his service. " In the midst of all this happiness," the traveler says, " and when I looked u23on myself to be fully settled for life, my master sent for me one morning a little earlier than his usual hour. I observed by his countenance that he was in some perplexity, and at a loss hiow to begin what he had to speak." f Sorrow in the countenance every day foreshows the dreaded certainty of death, "l Suspicion is a constant attendant on crime, and often leads to the proof of it. Cicero tells us what is the common course of crime. § Signs of resistance to force, and a corpse's ap23earance, may cause a strong suspicion of murder. | * Hamlet, A. iii. S. 2. t Gullivers Voyage to tlie Houyhnhnms, ch. x. X Henry IV. Part ii. A. i. S. 1. § In general, crime, fii'st of all, creates suspicion ; next follOTvs talk and common report about it ; then comes the prosecution, succeeded by con- viction and punishment. — Cic. De Fin., i. 16. II "Plautius Silranus, one of the preetors, impelled by some secret motive, threw his wife Aprouia out of the window of her apartment, and killed her on the spot. Being immediately seized by his father-in-law, Lucius Apronius, and conveyed to the presence of the Emperor, he made answer, with an air of distraction, that while he lay asleep, his wife com- mitted that act of violence. Tiberius went directly to the house. He OF SUSPICION. 103 So, on tlie otlier hand, a suspicion of murder may be suspended or layed, by a want of signs of conflict, or of otlier circumstances, wliicli would be likely to attend it. * In a case of. a murder, the deed is proved to Lave been done by some one ; and often there are facts sur- rounding it, which are a source of suspicion that it was done by a particular person, f Suspicious facts surrounding a deed of murder may be, — the suspected person's nearness, about the time of the murder, to the place where it was committed ; his words uttered before the deed, as of anger, hatred, ven- geance ; his words spoken after it ; his possession of a weapon suitable to effect the deed ; the condition of it, as bearino; marks of violence or stains of blood ; stains of blood upon his body or clothes ; jmuts of shoes, corresponding with his own shoes, on the ground at or near the place of the crime; his appearance or be- havior after the deed, as his change of color, stammer- ing, trembling. These, or the like, facts constantly create a suspicion that the person, to whom they ap- ply, is guilty of the deed. J Shakspeare represents Henry V. as putting into the hands of Cambridge, Scroo]3, and Grey, certain papers convicting them of treason, and describes the effect they had on them. § In the story told by Cicero there were circumstances of great suspicion, that, of two guests at an inn, one examined the ai^artment, and saw evident signs of a person who had struggled, but was overcome by force." — Murphy. Tacitus, Annul iv. 22. And see Henry IV. Part ii. A. iii. S. 2. *'Lara, canto ii. t Henry VI. Part ii. A. iii. S. 3. X Cic. Orat. Partit. 11, and see 33; also, Romeo and Juliet, A. v. S. 3; Macbeth, A. i. S. 7 ; The Corsair, canto iii. § Henry V. A. ii. S. 2. 104 OF SUSPICION. had murdered tlie other.* An attempt to conceal something is often a source of suspicion.f Flight is a cause of suspicion. J When a crime has been com- mitted, and a suspicion of the guilt of it attaches on a person, from his sudden disappearance from the place or neighborhood of it ; to ascertain the soundness of the suspicion, the first inquiry obviously should be, is the going away a flight ? One of many innocent causes, business, or pleasure, may have occasioned the depart- ure ; and, relatively to the crime, the going away at this particular time may have been purely accidental. And supposing the departure to be really flight, it may be flight, not by reason of the crime, but from a motive quite independent of it, as to escape from creditors. In the case of Crossfield, tried in 1796, for high treason, * A man going to market, and carrying money with liim, was over- taken by another man. The two entered into conversation, and from thence arose an inclination on the part of both to keep together as friends. And accordingly, when they had both entered the same inn, they agreed to sup together, and to sleep in the same room. Supper being over, they both retired to rest in the same chamber. But the innkeeper (as was afterward discovered on his being taken up on another charge) having seen the money, which the one of them carried, arose in the night, and so soon as he perceived his two guests to be sound asleep, he approached them, and seeing the sword of the one who had not the money lying near him, he drew it from the sheath, and with it killed his companion ; and having stolen the money, he replaced the bloody sword in the sheath, and went to bed again. Now the man, whose sword had been used to perpetrate the murder, arose long before day-light, and rej^eatedly called out to his companion in order to wake him. And receiving no answer, he naturally attributed this to the man's being asleep. And taking up his sword and the other things he had brought with him, he set out alone. The inn- keeper, not long after, raised a cry that a man was murdered ; and he, to- gether with some of his guests, pursues and overtakes the man, who had before gone out. He seizes him, draws his sword, and exhibits it bloody. The owner is carried to Rome, and prosecuted for the murder. — Cic. De Inventione, ii. 4. t See King Lear, A. i. S. 2. J Macbeth, A. ii. S. 4. OF SUSPICION. 105 there was evidence of liis leaviuo; Ensjland. For the prosecution it was said, that the j^risoner left England to avoid being involved in the present charge ; and for the defense there was evidence to show, he went abroad to escape from his creditors. The Chief Justice Eyre, in his summing up, told the jury — " You have heard a great number of observations upon the particular parts of the evidence, as to the person's conduct, resj)ecting his originally withdrawing himself from this country. It will be a point for you to satisfy yourselves about ; whether he did withdraw himself from this country, under the apprehension of being involved in this charge, or whether he withdrew from this country, merely on account of the pressure of his circumstances. . . . . If this man withdrew from the danger, that he thought himself in, of being apprehended under this charge, that is a strong corroboration of all the rest of the evidence. On the other hand, if he withdrew from the mere pressure of his circumstances, he will avoid all the inferences that have been made from his conduct in that particular." * Flight there may be, without any crime at all ; but caused by an act that is no crime; an act done inno- cently by one, who has not courage enough to stay and explain it. Such was the flight of Tyrell, who slew William Rufus : without informing any one of the ac- cident, he put spurs to his horse, hastened to the sea- shore, and embarked for France.f Suspicious circumstances are caj^able of explana- tion ; and the effect of explanation may be, to lessen their force, or even wholly to destroy it. Taking the suspicious facts, above noticed, surrounding a deed of * Crossfield's Trial (taken by Gurney), pp. 318, 319. t Hume's Hist. 106 OF SUSPICION. murder, — tlie suspected person may innocently have been near the place about the time of the murder ; his words may have been quite unconnected with the crime ; the condition of the weapon may be otherwise ac- counted for ; so may the stains on his body or clothes ; the shoes may not have been his ; or, if his, they may have been worn by somebody else ; his appearance and behavior may be shown to be innocent. The following story contains a lesson against rash suspicion : — " At the foot of a mountain there issued out a clear S2:)ring of water, at which a soldier alighted from his horse to drink. He was no sooner gone, than a little boy came to the same place ; and finding a purse of gold^ which the soldier had dropped, took it up, and went away with it. Immediately after this came an infirm old man, weary with age and traveling; and, having quenched his thirst, sat down to rest himself by the side of the spring. The soldier missing his purse returns to search for it, and demands it of the old man, who afiirms he had not seen it, and appeals to Heaven in witness of his innocence. The soldier, not believing his protestations, kills him." * In Cymbeline, some very suspicious circumstances, invented by lachimo to prove Imogen faithless to her husband, are most satisfactorily explained.f " The gentle Desdemona married to the Moor," what a source of suspicion was " that same handkerchief ! " And how ill-founded ! J The unfounded suspicion of Hero's disloyalty to Claudio furnishes, perhaps, the most affect- ing incident in all Shakspeare's plays. § * The Spectator, No. 237. f Act ii. S. 4 ; A. v. S. 5. X OtheUo, A. iii. S. 3, 4; A. iv. S. 1 ; A. y. S. 2. § Much Ado About Nothing, A. ii. S. 2 ; A. iii. S, 3 ; A. iv. S. 1. CHAPTER VIII. OF PROBABILITY.* What probability is we are told by Locke : " Prob- ability is likeliness to be true ; the very notation of the word signifying such a proposition, for which there be arguments or proofs to make it pass, or be received for true. The entertainment the mind gives this sort of projiositions is called belief, assent, or opinion, which is the admitting or receiving any proposition for true, upon arguments or proofs that are found to persuade us to receive it as true, without certain knowledge that it is so Probability being to supply the defect of our knowledge, and to guide us where that fails, is always conversant about propositions, whereof we have no certainty^ but only some inducements to receive them for true. The grounds of it are, in short, these two following : First the conformity of any thing [* " Nothing is impossible which does not involve a contradiction. . . . There is a possibility that Bonner may have been a good Protestant, who, being convinced that the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Chm-ch, heroically went through all the drudgery and infamy of persecution, that he might inspire the English people with an intense and lasting hatred of Popery. There is a possibility that Jeffries may have been an ardent lover of liberty, and that he may have beheaded Algernon Sidney, and burned Elizabeth Garnet, only in order to produce a reaction which might lead to a limitation of the prerogative. There is a possibility that Thurtell may have killed Weare only in order to give the youth of England an impres- sive warning against gaming and bad company. There is a possibility that Fauntleroy may have forged powers of attorney only in order that his fate might turn the attention of the public to the defects of the penal law. These things, we say, are possible. But they are so extravagantly improbable, that a man who should act on such suppositions would be fit only for Saint Luke's." — Macaulay — Essay an Lord Bacon.] 108 OF PEOBABILITY. witL. our own knowledge, observation, and experience. Secondly, the testimony of others, vouching their ob- servation and experience Probability wanting that intuitive evidence which infallibly determ- ines the understanding, and produces certain knowl- edge, the mind, if it would proceed rationally, ought to examine all the grounds of probability, and see how they make more or less for, or against, any proposition, before it assents to or dissents from it ; and, upon a due balancing the whole, reject or receive it, with more or less firm assent, proportionably to the preponderancy of the greater grounds of probability on one side or the other. For example : If I myself see a man walk on the ice, it is past 'probability^ it is Tcnoiuledge. But if another tells me he saw a man in England, in the midst of a sharp winter, walk upon water hardened with cold ; this has so great conformity with what is usually observed to happen, that I am disposed, by the nature of the thing itself, to assent to it, unless some manifest suspicion attend the relation of that matter of fact. But if the same thing be told to one born between the tropics, who never saw nor heard of any such thing before, there the whole probability relies on testi- mony ; and as the relaters are more in number, and of more credit, and have no interest to speak contrary to the truth, so that matter of fact is like to find more or less belief Though to a man whose experience has been always quite contrary, and who has never heard of any thing like it, the most untainted credit of a witness will scarce be able to find belief. As it happened to a Dutch ambassador, who, entertaining the king of Siam with the particularities of Holland, which he was inquisitive after, amongst other things, told him that the water in his country would some- times- in cold weather be so hard, that men walked OF PROBABILITY. 109 upon it, and that it would bear an elepliant, if lie were there. To which the king replied, ' Hitherto I have believed the strange things you have told me, because I look upon you as a sober, fair man, but now I am sure you lye.' Upon these grounds depends the proh' ability of any proposition ; and as the conformity of our knowledge, as the certainty of observations, as the frequency and constancy of experience, and the number and credibility of testimonies, do more or less agree or disagree with it, so is any proposition, in itself, more or less probable." * Experience, as we may learn from the above passage, is closely connected with probability. And of experience. Archbishop Whately says : " This word, in its strict sense, applies to what has occurred within a person's own knowledge. Experience, in this sense, of course relates to the past alone. Thus it is that a man knows by experience what sufferings he has undergone in some disease. More frequently the word is used to denote that judgment, which is derived from experience in the primary sense, by reasoning from that in combination with other data. Thus, a man may assert, on the ground of experience, that he was cured of a disorder by such a medicine — that that medicine is generally beneficial in that disorder. It is in this sense only that experience can be applied to i\iQ future^ or, which comes to the same thing, to any general fact ; as, e. g., when it is said, that we know by experience that water exposed to a certain temperature will freeze." f There is no probability more often thought of, and * Locke on the Understanding, Book IV. ch. xv. See also, on Prob- ability, Butler's Introduction to his Analogy of Religion. t Whately's Elements of Logic, Appendix r. Experience, ed. 1850. 110 OF PROBABILITY. talked about, than tliat of the coming weather. And certainly from experience it may often be rightly judged of * The boatman who embarked Caesar and his fortune, presaged the storm that overtook them, f A case of probability of the death of a person is when he has not been heard of for a great number of years. J On the subject of a missing person a rule of law has prevailed, that a person is to be presumed to be dead who has not been heard of for seven years. This rule has by different judges been acknowledged in the following terms : " The presumption of the duration of life, with respect to persons of whom no account can be given, ends at the exj)iration of seven years from the time when they were last known to be living." § " That presumption arises from the great lapse of time since the party has been heard of; be- cause it is considered extraordinary, if he was alive, that he should not be heard of In other words, it is presumed that his not being heard of has been occa- sioned by his death, which presumption arises from the considerable time that has elapsed." || For some purposes in the affairs of the world, and especially those relating to property, it may be a con- venient rule to fix a certain time, as seven years, at the end of which a person, not heard of during all that time, shall be presumed to be dead ; but it may be doubtful whether it is desirable to take the mere fact of not hearing of him for a certain time as a sufficient ground for the presumption. This presumption is founded on probability ; and whether there is a prob- * Henry FV. Part i. A. iv. S. 4. t Lucan, Phars. v. 539. I See The Corsair, canto iii. ; and Lara, canto i. § By Lord Ellenborough, 6 East, 85. I By Lord Denman, 3 Mees and Wei. 913. 1 OF PROBABILITY. Ill ability of deatli, will certainly depend on the particular circumstances of each case : as the age and constitution of the missing person ; his profession, trade, calling, or pursuit in life, whether perilous, unhealthy, or other- wise tending to shorten life ; the climate of the coun- try he lived in when last heard of; his power of communication, by writing or otherwise, with his friends. Generally speaking, allowing for the missing per- son's age and constitution, and for climate, and any other peculiarities in the case, it may be right, and certainly most safe, to take the probability to be, that up to the average term of man's life, the absent person is alive. Why suppose him to be dead ? * [* The Revised Statutes of New York provide : If any person, upon whose life any estate in lands depends, remains beyond sea, or absents himself, for seven years together, he shall be accounted naturally dead in any action concerning such lands, in which his death is in question, unless he is proved to be alive (1 R. S. 749, s. 6). As to presumption of death, see O^Gara v. Eisealour (7 Transcript Appeals, 310). We remember a case where a man left the city of New York without the knowledge of his wife and family. Soon after a body was found, which was supposed to be his, but so mutilated and decomposed as to render the identification uncertain. It was, however, the belief that he was dead, and this belief was continued until, after an absence of more than twent j--nine years, he returned. He had never been heard of during his absence. He had no welcome to his return, which was not altogether voluntary. Living in a distant State, under an assumed name, he had fallen sick, and, being in poverty, to obtain assistance, he told of property he had in New York, his right to which he was willing to exchange for present shelter and sup- port. This excited the cupidity of one of his hearers, who l:)rought him on to New York, took from him a conveyance of the property, and set to work to recover it. We, on behalf of the surviving relatives of his wife, saw this man, and endeavored in vain to extract from him a reason for his strange conduct. We would mention another case of prolonged absence and subsequent return, the account of which came from the man's wife, and imder circumstances which led us to believe her statement to be true. A. B. was a portrait painter in Brooklyn, he suddenly disappeared, and all efforts to trace out what had become of him were unavailing. After an absence of nearly fifteen years, he one day quietly entered the house where his wife 112 OF PROBABILITY. Tlie following are facts in a cause, Dowley v. Win- field^ before the Vice-Cbancellor Shadwell : In or about September, 1830, F. W. Dowley, who was then about fifteen years old, left England as one of the crew of a South Sea whaler, called the Partridge^ which arrived in London, on its return from the South Seas, in the beginning of 1834. Dowley did not return in her, and no tidings had been heard of him since he left England, except that in February, 1834, the captain of the ship stated that Dowley ran away from the Partridge at Woahoo, one of the Sandwich Islands, about two years then since, and that the captain had heard nothing of him subsequently ; that several ships were lying at Woahoo, and the captain thought it not unlikely that Dowley might have got on board one of them bound for America. In consequence of this information, an advertisement was inserted in The Times and Morning Advertiser newspapers, on the 3d of October, 1834, addressed to merchant seamen and others, and request- ing to be furnished with information as to the then abode of Dowley, or, if he was dead, as tp the place of his decease ; and 500 copies of this advertisement were printed and distributed at the various docks in London. In 1835, another advertisement was published in The Times, and in two Liverpool newspapers, and also in several American newspajoers, offering a reward of .£50 to any person who would furnish information as to the place of abode, or death, of Dowley. In 1844, Sir L. Shadwell made an order which declared that, under the circumstances, it was to be i^resumed that Dowley resided, remained there a portion of the day, refusing in any way to account for his absence. Before night he again disappeared, as suddenly and as completely as on the previous occasion, and, although twelve years inter- vened the second disappearance and the narration of the circumstance to us, he had neither returned nor been heard of.j OF PROBABILITY. 113 was dead. In this case it will be seen Dowley had not been heard of for twelve years. The presumption was made with the view to the transfer to the j^laintiff of certain property in which Dowley had an interest; and the Vice-Chancellor did not consider the evidence as conclusive that Dowley was dead, inasmuch as he directed the property to be transferred to the plaintiff, on his giving security to refund it in case Dowley should be .living.* In Watso7i V. England^ a case which also came before the Vice-Chancellor Shadwell, in 1844, a person had not been heard of since the year 1814, a j^eriod of thirty years. The decree in the cause directed the Master to inquire whether Mary Bilton was living or dead. The Master reported that she was dead, and that she died in 1821, being seven years after she was last heard of. The report was founded on an affidavit of a person, not a relative of Mary Bilton, who deposed that in 1809 or 1810, when she was about sixteen or seventeen years of age, she clandestinely left the house of her father, who was a small farmer in Yorkshire ; and that she had not been since heard of, except that, in 1814, she wrote a letter to her sister from Ports- mouth, stating that she intended to go abroad. The question was, whether the above evidence was sufficient to warrant the Master's finding. And upon this ques- tion Sir L. Shadwell thus expressed himself: "It strikes me that there is considerable difficulty about this case, which, like every case of the same nature, must be determined according to its own peculiar cir- cumstances. Here a girl of about sixteen or seventeen years of age, whose father was a farmer, chose, for some reason which does not appear, to leave her father's * Dowley ti. Winfield, 14 Sim. 277. 114 OP PEOBABILITY. house, and to go no one knows wHtlier. But it seems that in August, 1814, she was at Portsmouth, and that she then intended to go abroad. Therefore, it is but reasonable to presume that all along she had been con- cealing herself, and that she never intended to return home. The mere fact of her not having been heard of since 1814, affords no inference of her death ; for the circumstances of the case make it very probable that she would be never heard of again by her relations. How can I presume that she died in 1821, from a fact which is quite consistent with her being alive at that time ? The old law relating to the presumption of death is daily becoming more and more untenable. For owing to the facility which traveling by steam affords, a per- son may now be transported, in a very short space of time, from this country to the back woods of America, or to some other remote region, where he may be never heard of again." * A somewhat similar case is Boivden v. Henderson^ before Vice-Chancellor Stuart, in 1854. Here the per- son missing was L. L., an Englishwoman, who, when last heard of, was living in Paris. The circumstances in evidence Sir J. Stuart considered not to be sufficient to raise a presumption of her death. " The principle," he said, " on which the Court presumes the death of a person, of whom no tidings have been received for a long j^eriod of time, is this : that if he were living, he probably would have communicated with some of his friends and relatives. It is a conclusion which the Court draws from the probabilities of the case. It is quite clear, therefore, that when no such probability exists, the presum]3tion cannot arise. In this case, all the circumstances tend to show that, after what had * 14 Sim. 28. OF PROBABILITY. 115 taken place between L. L. and lier friends, it was extremely improbable she would have entered into further communication with them. She had abandoned her religion, and her friends wrote to her a letter of remonstrance and reproach for so doing. These re- proaches were not calculated to encourage further communications. I think this circumstance, taken in connection with the rather eccentric course of life which, it appears from her letters, she pursued, render it improbable that she would have further communi- cated with her friends. If I am right in this view, it follows that the presumption of her death does not arise from the absence of information, or of communi- cation, when that absence is natural, even if the lady were still alive." * Another case involving a question of probal)ility is, when a vessel being lost at sea, and two persons on board so perishing, the question is, whether one of them survived the other, and if one did, which of them. In October, 1766, General Stanwix, his second wife, and his daughter by his former wife, set sail in the same vessel from Dublin for England. The vessel was lost at sea, and the manner of her perishing was not known. Here the question related to the deaths of the General and his daughter.f On the following circumstances, in Underwood v. Wing, which came before Sir John Romilly, M. R., the question related to the deaths of a husband and his wife. "In October, 1853, Mr. and Mrs. Underwood, and their three children, embarked on board the ship Dalliousie for Australia; but on the 19th the ship foundered off Beechy Head ; and, with the exception of one sailor, Joseph Reed, all on board perished. It * 2 Smale and Giff. 360. f The King v. Hay, 1 W. Blackstone, 640. 116 OF PROBABILITY. appeared clear that Mr. and ]\Ii's. Underwood, and their two boys, were washed into tlie sea by the same wave, but their daughter survived, and perished a short time afterward." " Joseph Reed, the only person able to give any account of what had taken place, was examined After describing the ship's going over on her beam ends, he proceeded as follows : ' From where I was, I could see what the other people on the ship were doing. Four of the Underwood family were drawn out of the port quarter gallery, while I was on the weather quarter ; I helped to draw them out myself. The four were, the two boys and Mrs. and Mr. Underwood. I don't believe they were there more than three minutes at the outside. As I was hel23ing to clear away one of the boats, I heard a scream, and looked round, and saw Mrs. Underwood grabbing for, or trying to lay hold of, one of the boys. I saw her take hold of him, while they were both on the side of the vessel. The mother was Avith the two boys ; the father was close to them by the ship's rail, a good two steps off from them. The next I saw was, they were all together ; the husband had his wife in his arms, and the two boys were holding on to the mother ; they were all clasped together. I don't believe it was a minute before a sea came and swept them all off; they seemed to go oft' all at once ; 1 don't think they were separated. I saw no more of them ; the sea swept them right off; none of them ever came in sight ao;ain that I saw ; I did not see Mr. Underwood aojain. The daughter was not with them at that time ; she was picked up from the forward part of the poop, abreast of the main rigging. I saw the daughter alive after the others went down.' He then described the attempts made to save Miss Underwood, the last survivor of the family, who was lashed to a spar, and afterward OF PROBABILITY. 117 swept into tlie sea and perished ; and the witness then proceeded thus : ' It was while Mr. and Mrs. Under- wood and the boys were clasped together, as I have before described, that they were washed over. They were clasped together in this manner : — the boys had hold of the mother, and the father had his arms round them all, and they were in that state when the sea swept over the vessel. That was the last I saw of them. At the time Mr. and Mrs. Underwood were washed away, they did not seem to be exerting them- selves; they seemed resigned to their fate.' Besides the evidence of Keed, there was that of the plaintiff's witnesses, ' which explained the process and effect of death by drowning, technically called asphyxia, and which, they said, supervened within two minutes after submersion, though life continued for a short time afterward.' The defendant's witnesses ' thought that two persons submersed at the same time would not die at precisely the same instant, and that the husband must, in all human probability, have been the survivor. This opinion was founded on the greater buoyancy of the husband's body, which is generally less in a female than in a male ; on his greater strength and power of resisting the causes of death; on the fact of his being a good swimmer ; and the probable effects of female terror to accelerate drowning, and on her screaming, which would exhaust the air from her lungs.' Sir John Romilly's judgment in this cause contains the follow- ing, among other observations : ' In this case, the evidence of Joseph Reed is distinct and clear, as to the mode, in which the death took place. The evidence is given in a very striking manner, and with details, which cannot fail to impress anybody who has heard it, with the truth of what he states, and the belief that he was stating exactly what took place. That he was 118 OF PROBABILITY. in a condition of mind to "be able to see wliat happened, is evident, from tlie fact of liis being so attentive to others, by his attempt to save the girl from an imminent death, by lashing her to a large spar, which, at all events, prolonged her life for some period of time, and gave her a chance, however remote, of preservation. The witness noticed exactly what took place, he attended to the whole of the circumstances ; and his evidence to me is distinct : that he saw the wife and the two children clino-ino; to her, and the hus- band with his arms around them, all swept away by a wave into the water; that they then disappeared, and he never saw them again ; and he believes they disap- peared in an eddy produced by the action of the waves and the resistance of the vessel combined. It is im- possible for me to doubt or disbelieve that evidence, or to adopt the suggestion of any thing different having occurred. This evidence is to me quite distinct and clear, and it establishes, that those four persons were immersed together in the water, that they sank at once, and never appeared again. Then the question, in that state of circumstances, is, whether I can come to the presumption, that the husband survived his wife. The evidence before me on the subject is all one way : it states that insensibility takes place in the space of about a minute ; ai d that death takes place in two or three minutes; bat that it is totally impossible to de- termine exactly ; that this does not depend apparently upon any peculiar circumstances of constitution, if the person die from drowning. It appears, however, that a person may die from a cause produced by an immer- sion, which is not, properly sjDcaking, drowning. I have no evidence whatever upon this subject applicable to the present case ; but when I am asked to infer from the medical testimony, that a woman is more liable to OF PROBABILITY. 119 sucli accidents, and that therefore she pro"bal)ly died first, I may as well assume that the husband died from apoplexy, as that the wife died from any sudden cause other than drowning ; because it appears, from the evidence of a medical man, that apoplexy is a fi'equent cause of death in the case of sudden immersion in water, as well as asphyxia It is impos- sible for this court to say, that there is any evidence before it to show which, of this group of four persons, who were swept into the sea on the 19th of October, was the survivor. If I were compelled to decide, as to the relative periods of death of each on this evidence, I should judge the probability to be, that they all be- came insensible at the same moment, and that, in fact, death took place as nearly as possible at the same time My opinion is, that I must con- sider that there is no evidence to show who is the sur- vivor ; and the conclusion of law is, that I cannot found any decision on the assumption that either was the survivor.' " * A knowledge of human nature is one kind of knowledge, from which to judge of probability. By it we think it probable a mother loves her child.f By what we have done ourselves, or have seen or known others do, we may judge of the probability of the same or the like deed being accomplished by some other person ; as, for instance, his ability to walk a certain distance in a given time. So with regard to our own or others' mental power, we may by ex- * 19 Beaven, 459. Wing v. Angrave, S. C. 30 Law J. Rep. (N. S.) Chan, 65. [Where two parties perish by the same event, as in a ship- wreck, and nothing more is known as to which died first, the presumption of priority will be raised from the comparative age, health, and strength of the parties.— /SiZZici v. Booth^ 1 Y. & C. 121.] t Cic. De Inventione, i. 29. 120 OF PROBABILITY. perience judge of tlie probability of tlie same or the like being successfully exercised by some other person ; as his power to remember the particulars, or the sub- stance, of a long speech or discourse he has heard. With regard to some particular situation or circum- stances, in which a person may have been placed, and what he may have then said or done, we ourselves per- sonally may never have found ourselves in such a situ- ation or circumstances ; and yet it may be in our power to judge of the probability of that person's say- ing or doing what, we are told, he did say or do. Our knowledge of human nature may give us this power ; and this knowledge we may gain by our in- sight into ourselves : " As in water, face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man." * If then, from such inspection of ourselves, we think it likely, that, in the supposed situation or circumstances, we ourselves might have said or done this or that, we may rightly consider it probable the individual in question may have said or done the same thing. From his own knowledge, whether from observa- tion, experience, or other source, a man thinks a thing to be probable. But probability, and thinking a thing to be probable, may be very different matters ; that is to say, probability according to just reasoning or cal- culation, and probability according to the thought of a particular person. For as the thought depends on knowledge, the individual may not have the knowledge necessary to judge of the probability under the par- ticular circumstances. By reason of age, education, or manner of life, and a variety of other things, he may be incapable of forming a judgment on the probability. * Proverbs xxvii. 19. Men very much resemble each other, not only in their good qualities, but their bad. — Cic. De Leg. i 11. OF PROBABILITY. 121 On the other hand, the same matters may peculiarly fit another person to see the probability in the case. And so under the very same circumstances, what one man thinks probable, another may think improbable. Steele, in one of his papers in the Spectator, men- tions " a particular set of people, who, in their own favor, resolve every thing that is possihle into what is prohahle, and then reckon ujDon that 'prohcibility^ as on what must certainly happen." He then points out the deceptive nature of this kind of reasoning, shows that certainty is far removed from probability, and teaches how dangerous it is to imagine that the passage from the one to the other is easy and sure. This he does in a humorous story which he tells of three young ladies, who rated their ^possible fortunes, as ]}rohahle^ if not certain^ upon the following scheme of their own : " ' Our father is a youngish man, but then our mother is somewhat older, and not likely to have any children : his estate being worth £800 per annum, at 20 years' purchase, is worth £10,000. Our uncle, who is above 50, has £400 per annum, which, at the aforesaid rate, is £8,000. There is a widow aunt, who has £10,000 at her own disi^osal left by her husband ; and an old maiden aunt, who has £G,000. Then our father's mother has £900 per annum, which is worth £18,000 ; and £1,000 each of us has of her own, whicli cannot be taken from us. These, summed up^ together^ stand thus : Father's . . £800 . . £16,000 Uncle's . . 400 .. . 8,000 Aunts' . {^^'oQoj-. ^ . 16,000 Grandmother's 'oOO . . . 18,000 Own, each, . 1,000 . . . 3,000 Total . . £61,000 122 OF PROBABILITY. " ' This, equally divided between us three, amounts to £20,000 each ; an allowance being given for enlarge- ment upon common fame, we may lawfully pass for £30,000 fortunes.' " But mark the end. The mother dies, the father is married again, and has a son ; on him was entailed the father's, uncle's, and grandmother's estate. This cut off £42,000. The maiden aunt married a tall Irishman, and with her went the £6,000. The widow died, and left but enough to pay her debts and bury her ; so that there remained for these three girls but their own £1,000." * Cicero considers a narrative to be probable, when it contains circumstances, which are usually found in a story that is true.f When a probability arises out of circumstances, which bear to be looked at in different w^ays or lights, it is sometimes a question on which side the probability lies. On the occasion of the fray between Clodius and Milo, in which the former was killed, if it became a question which of the two planned the meeting, the time and place of rencontre, the probability is very great that Clodius did, and not Milo. This is lucidly and forcibly set forth by Cicero in his defense of Milo. J * The Spectator, No. 282. t Cic, De Invent, i. 21. J Milo, who on that day had been in the Senate, as soon as the Senate broke up wfflat home, and changed his dress ; and there he stayed a short time, while his wife prepared herself to go with him into the country. He then set out, at the time when Clodius, if he had intended that day to re- turn to Rome, might be setting off. The two met on the road : Clodius on horseback, not in a carriage, with no luggage, aud with none of his Greek retinue, who usually accompanied him ; without his wife, which scarcely ever happened : whereas Milo, this waylayer, who had planned this journey purposely to assassinate Clodius, rode, not on horseback, but with his wife in a carriage, wrapped in his usual thick traveling cloak, and having with him a crowd of attendants, and among them young women aud boys. — Cic, Pro Milone, 10 ; and see 20, 21. OF PROBABILITY. 123 As knowledge is the ground of thinking a thing to be probable, so is it of thinking a thing to be improba- ble. We think it is improbable, when we consider it to be inconsistent with what we know. Our knowledge of human nature teaches us, that children love their par- ents. Inconsistent with this love is a child's desire to injure his father in any way ; and very inconsistent with it is his desire to put his father to death. If then a son is suspected of having murdered his father, a strong argument in favor of the son's innocence is the improb- ability of the crime. On this topic Cicero much en- larges in his defense of Roscius Amerinus, accused of parricide.* Cicero then continues by citing the case of two sons suspected of murdering their father; but whose innocence was evident from the improbability they would be able to sleep, as it was proved they did, so soon after the deed.f * The charge is parricide ; yet the prosecutor assigns no motive for the crime. The very thing, which in the lightest, most frequent, and nearly daily offenses, is sure to be chiefly and first of all inquired into, namely, the motive: this the prosecutor in a case of parricide does not deign to notice ; a crime of so great enormity, that although many circumstances concur to raise suspicion, yet guilt is not rashly believed on the faith of conjecture and doubtful testimony, and the prosecutor's ingenuity of argument. You must show that the accused is an old offender, that he has led a life of the utmost depravity, that his career has been one of recklessness bordering on insanity. And supposing you make out this, yet to induce belief of the son's guilt, you must bring positive evidence of all the circumstances, — the commission of the crime, when and where it was perpetrated, with what motive, and through whose assistance. And unless this evidence be full and complete, a crime so black, so atrocious, cannot be believed. Against it there is the common tie of humanity ; community of blood revolts at it ; nature herself forbids a bare suspicion of it ; "a wonderful and horrible thing is committed in the land," would be nature's cry, if the hand of a son were lifted against the life of his father, — Cic.^ Pro Rose. Amer. 22. t Not many years ago, one T. Cloelius of Terracina, a man of some note, was murdered ; and the story told of the crime is this : After supper Cloelius with his two sons, both young men, retired to rest in the same chamber. 124 OF PKOBABILITY. It is from our knowledge of human nature we con- clude it is improbable there should be crime without a motive.* The nature of man is such, he does not set about any crime, without a hope of gaining something by it. In defending Coelius against a charge of attempt- ing to poison Clodia, Cicero asks. Is it likely so great a crime would be committed without any motive what- ever ? f Circumstances often betray and manifest the motive of a crime ; as, threats, or plunder, the motive of a deed of violence; but where there is not a betrayal of this ojDen kind, the want of appearance of motive is an argument of great force in favor of innocence. In the morning the.father was found dead with his throat cut ; and no sus- picion of the deed could be fastened on any one of his slaves or freedmen. His two sous, who lay near him, declared they knew nothing about it ; they neither saw nor heard, they said, any thing that passed. They were nevertheless, prosecuted for the crime. It was thought there was a case of suspicion against them. Could it be true, it was asked, that they had neither seen nor heard any thing ? Would any other person have ventured to enter the room for such a purpose, at a time when, in the very same room, were Cloelius's two sons, both young men, who might easily hear and resist the attack on their father ? There was, moreover, no other person upon whom suspicion could attach. Tet, when it had been made plain to the jury, that with the door of their room open, the two sons were found fast asleep, they were not only acquitted, but all suspicion was removed from them : for no one imagined that persons who, by a crime of such atrocity, had violated all laws, divine and human, could have so soon after fallen asleep. — (7/c., Pro Rose. Amer. 23. * Cic, Pro Rose. Amer. 39. f Cic, Pro Ccelio, 23. CHAPTER IX. OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. WnEN a person relates facts, consisting of things of which he himself was an eye or eai'-witness, sources of his relation will be, his perception of the things he mentions, the impression they made on his mind, his present retention of them in his memory, his power to produce them from it, either instantl}^, or on time taken to recollect them. As impressions in the memory are in most, if not all, cases constantly by degrees wearing out, and after the lapse of much time are usually greatly eftaced, a narrative of facts may not include all the things that were impressed on the mind ; and the number in the memory may depend very much on the length of time, intervening between their occurrence and the time of the relation. So that with regard to narrative, it must be constantly assumed and understood, that it can only extend to things at the time of the relation in the memory, and consequently may leave out others, which were once there, but have in the course of time escaped from it. The facts will generally consist of things which the relater both saw and heard, and often will include be- sides what he himself said and did. It will be a just object of the narrative, to make the hearer, so far as may be, mentally see and hear these things, exactly as the relater saw and heard them, and himself said and did them. And supposing the narrative is meant to be confined to these facts, conjecture, fancy, and hearsay. 126 OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. will be wholly excluded from it. And to aid the hearer to see, as exactly as may be, what the relater saw, a model, or map, is obviously in some cases of great use ; as a model of a house or other building ; or a map of a particular parish or district, or confined to particular fields, roads or paths. How closely to the facts does Shahspeare make Ben- Tolio relate what he saw and heard in the fray between Mercutio and Tybalt, after they had drawn their swords, and were in actual conflict.* On every judicial inquiry, civil or criminal, before a magistrate, court, or other tribunal of justice, there is a story, the subject of the inquiry, a story of facts. In the case of a trial, usually each side has its own story, the two tales united forming the subject of the trial. It seldom happens, that the whole subject, or even the whole story of either side, is told by one witness ; but it commonly consists of different parts, distributed among several witnesses, each of whom tells the share which he is acquainted with. A witness about to narrate facts, may be left to tell his story in his own way, or it may be drawn from him by questions put to him. The former method of telling the story is open to these objections : The witness may not think enough to call to mind all he can relate ; from carelessness or oversight he may omit to mention some circumstances; he may think or fancy the circumstances he withholds are not material to a proper understanding of his story ; indeed, he may think or fancy that his story will be best understood, if it be not loaded with matters which he views as redundant, but which never- theless are essential to see the facts in their proper pro- portions and color. Another danger is, that the witness * Romeo and Juliet, A. iii. S. i. OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 127 will not confine liimself to things which he himself saw, heard, or did, but will diverge into hearsay, or common report, into things, that is, which he has heard some one else say were seen, heard, or done. Supposing, besides, the witness does not wish to speak the whole truth, it is obvious his wish will be promoted, by leaving him to tell his tale in his own way. The following anecdote, relating to the value of common report, is told of John Wesley : " John had a curious interview there [Bath] with Beau Nash, for it was in his reign. While he was preaching, this remark- able personage entered the room, came close to the preacher, and demanded of him by what authority he was acting. Wesley made answer, ' By that of Jesus Christ, conveyed to me by the present Archljishop of Canterbury, when he laid his hands upon me and said, Take thou authority to preach the gospel.' Nash then affirmed, that he was acting contrary to the laws : ' Be- sides,' said he, * your preaching frightens people out of their wits.' "* Sir,' replied Wesley; * Did you ever hear me preach ? ' ' No,' said the Master of the Ceremonies. 'How then can you judge of what you never heard ? Nash made answer, ' By common report.' ' Sii*,' said Wesley, * Is not your name Nash ? I dare not judge of you by common report : I think it not enough to judge by.' " * In the other method of obtaining a relation of facts, the one by question and answer, the object of the in- terrogator is, to get from the witness all he himself saw, heard, said, and did, excluding all hearsay, and other irrelevant matter. And the questions being framed with a view to this exclusion, if the witness confines himself strictly to the questions addressed to * Southey's Life of Wesley, yol. ii. p. 28. 128 OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. him, Lis answers will contain no hearsay nor other irrel- evant matter. But as, according to this method, the witness's narrative consists solely of his answers to the questions put to him, this obvious inconvenience attends it, that if all the questions required to bring out the witness's whole story are not put to him, he- may in his evidence leave out circumstances important to be known. It is an observation by Dr. Johnson, — " Where many questions are to be asked, some will be omitted ; " an observation he made during his journey in the Hebrides, on the occasion when he forgot to inquire how the islands were supplied with the exotic luxuries of wine, tea, and coffee.* The basis of interrogation of a witness is some- thing of which his examiner desires to be informed, and which he knows, thinks, assumes, or hopes, the wit- ness wnll be able to tell him. There are two ways of questioning : one where the words made use of in the question suggest or prompt a particular answer, and which is called a leading ques- tion ; the other, where the question does not so lead, but is put in general terms, without at all pointing to a particular reply. This may be called an o^en ques- tion ; it is open to any answer. " Did not you see this ? " or " Did not you hear that ? " are leading questions.f In them the person questioned is in a manner prompted to answer, he did see or hear this or that particular thing. " It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape the answer he would have in his own words and propositions : for it makes the other party stick the less." J * Johnson's Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, p. 93, ed. Edinb.1798. t 3 BI. Com. 449, 15th ed. J Bacon's Essays : of Cunning. OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 129 " Ye will, therefore (addressing Morris), please tell Mr. Justice Inglewood, whether we did not travel several miles together on the road, in consequence of your own anxious request and suggestion, reiterated once and again, baith on the evening that we were at Northallerton, and there declined by me, but afterward accepted, when I overtook ye on the road near Clobery Allers, and was prevailed on by you to resign my ain intentions of proceeding to Rothbury ; and, for my misfortune, to accompany you on your proposed route. ' It's a melancholy truth,' answered Morris, holding down his head, as he gave this general assent to the long and leading question, which Campbell put to him." * Assuming that the person questioned honestly de- sires to speak the truth, and that his memory is not de- fective, a strong probability is, that, whether the ques- tion be open, or leading, he will retui*n precisely the same answer to it. Each kind of question has, however, its advantages and disadvantages. If the witness be dishonest, and there be connivance between him and his interrogator ; or supposing the former honest, and the latter not to be so ; it is plain that a leading question may tend to bring out the answer which the interrogator desires. And assuming that both the witness and the interrog- ator are honest, both wishing the truth to be spoken ; here, if the witness remembers little or nothing, or if he be dull, or heedless, or be confused, or embarrassed by timidity or any other cause, there is danger that, if he is addressed by a leading question, he may, without thought or consideration, echo in his reply the words put in the question, and so fail to speak the truth. * Rob Roy. 130 OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. An open question imposes on an honest witness the necessity of thought, a consideration of both the ques- tion and reply. It forces him to resort to, and, if need be, to ransack, his memory, and obliges him to utter only what he remembers. On the other hand, it is very possible, in many cases probable, that from sick- ness, old age, or other cause, his memory may be so in- firm, that he cannot be brought to a correct answer, except by a leading question. All open questions, every question short of a leading one, may fail to quicken his memory, and bring him to express the fact, of which he has knowledge. Nothing, for in- stance, is more common, than to forget a person's name, and, without hearing it again, to be quite unable to call it to mind. We constantly hear people say, " If I heard his name, I should know it directly." If the name be pronounced, the hearing of it refreshes the power of recollection, and the name is instantly re- membered. " Leading questions, that is, such as instruct a wit- ness how to answer on material points, are not allowed on the examination in chief."^^ Questions which are in- tended merely as introductory, and which, whether answered in the affirmative or negative, would not be conclusive on any of the points in the cause, are not liable to the objection of leading." . . . . " Lead- ing questions are admitted in the cross-examination of a witness." f An abuse of this liberty is thus noticed by Lord Campbell, — •" At this time [reign of James II.] leading questions were not allowed to be put in cross-examina- * [It is in the discretion of the court to permit leading questions on an examination in chief. — Vrooman v. Griffiths, 1 Keyes^ 53.] t Phillipps on Evidence, vol. i. pp. 255, 261, 6th ed. \ OF KARRATIVE OF FACTS. 131 tion, more than in examination in chief ; and I am not sure that the old rule is not the best one — when I con- sider the monstrous abuse sometimes practised in put- ting words into the mouth of a friendly witness, neces- sarily called by the side he is opposed to." * In a chancery cause, where it was objected that the interrogatories were leading, and to which objection the reply was, that the interrogatories were not leading, as they did not suggest to the witness the answer to be given. Lord Langdale observed, — " All interrogatories must, to some extent, make a suggestion to the witness. It would be perfectly nugatoiy to ask a witness, if he knew anything about something." "It is impossible to examine a witness without referring to or suggesting the subject, upon which he is to answer. If the question suggests a particular answer, it is lead- ing and improper." f Whenever any person makes a relation of facts, be it on a judicial inquiry or not, and whether he tells his story spontaneously, and without being questioned, or on request and through questions put to him, it is certain the tale is often imperfectly, or falsely, told ; and when this is known or suspected to be the case, and it is desired to have the exact truth, to ascertain what part of the story is true, what false, and what is left out, these matters may be learned, by searchino- for them through questions put to the relator ; an inquiry that is called, cross-examination. " He that is first in his own cause seemeth just, but his neighbor cometh and search eth him." J * Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chief Justices, vol. ii. p. 50, n. ed 1849. t Lincoln v. Wright, 4 Beavan, 171, 173. I Proverbs, xviii. 132 OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. The command by the mouth of Samuel to Saul was, " Go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have ; slay both man and woman, infant and suck- ling, ox and sheej), camel and ass." Saul's imperfect tale, — " I have performed the commandment of the Lord " — would not bear the scrutiny of Samuel ; who instantly replied, " What meaneth then this bleating of the sheep in mine ears, and the lowing of the oxen which I hear ? " * " He that travels in the Highlands may easily satu- rate his soul ^\*ith intelligence, if he will acquiesce in the first account. The Highlander, gives to every ques- tion an answer so prompt and peremptory, that scep- ticism itself is dared into silence, and the mind sinks before the bold reporter in unresisting credulity ; but if a .second question be ventured, it breaks the en- chantment, for it is immediately discovered that what was told so confidently, was told at hazard, and that such fearlessness of assertion was either the sport of negligence, or the refuge of ignorance." f " Fingal being talked of. Dr. Johnson averred his positive disbelief of its authenticity. And on a gentle- man then saying, ' Fingal is certainly genuine, for 1 have heard a great part of it repeated in the original,' Dr. Johnson asked him, 'Sir, do you understand the original ? ' And the reply being, ' No, sir.' ' Why, then,' said Dr. Johnson, ' we see to what this testimony comes.' " J On a trial, the cross-examination of witnesses is often of the utmost importance and service toward discover- ing the truth, and the extent to which the witnesses * 1 Samuel, xv. t Jolinsoii's Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, p. 83, ed. 1798. I Life of Jolmson by Boswell, vol. v. p. 138, ed. 1835. OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 133 are to be believed. On a civil trial, a verdict for the plaintiff may give liim an estate, or money, or other object of the suit ; a verdict against t^e defendant may cause him to lose what the plaintiff gains. In many cases each party is honest, and desires justice alone ; but where there is not this upright spirit, either or each of the parties, looking at the consequence the verdict will have, may endeavor to set the facts of the case in a light most favorable to himself, and therefore to mold, disguise, or suppress some of the circum- stances. When such is the state of mind of each or either of the parties to a suit, it may be imagined it will sometimes infect the integrity of the witnesses. From this source may arise the unwilling, the preju- diced, the partisan, the false witness. In cases of this description, the service which a cross-examination may be of is manifest. But the benefit of cross-examination is not confined to cases of this disreputable kind. For on every trial, after a witness's examination by his own side, or examination in chief as it is called, is closed, these considerations may arise in the mind of the opposite party: The witness may have sj^oken truth, but not the whole truth; or he may have spoken the truth, and something besides the truth ; or some of the truth may not have been brought out, because questions suited to elicit it were not put to him ; the witness may be mistaken in a matter which he has stated as a fact ; he may have misapprehended it ; he may not have seen what he thinks he saw, or heard what he thinks he heard ; he may have spoken to a fact with greater confidence than is justified by his imperfect knowledge of it ; his present story may not be consistent with his relation of it on some former occasion ; the witness's character may require to be 134 OF KARRATIVE OF FACTS. searched into, to judge how far his evidence is to be believed. On certain criminal trials, a cross-examination has had the following objects : 1. To show that the witness did ^ot see what he said he saw : as, that the witness, who said he saw the prisoner at a particular place, did not see him there ; or, that the witness, who said he saw the prisoner coming from a particular place, was, at the time of seeing him (as he said), unable, from the distance (220 yards) of the prisoner from him, to recognize the prisoner, to distinguish his features, to know him to be the prisoner ; or, that the witness, who said he saw the prisoner fire a pistol at another man, was at the time of seeing him (as he said) unable, from the distance (220 yards) of the prisoner from him, to recognize the prisoner. 2. To show that the witness did not hear what he said he heard : as, that the witness, who said he heard particular words spoken by the prisoner to a clamorous mob, was, at the time he heard (as he said) the words, under some agitation of mind, was in a degree in a considerable flurry of spirits ; or, that at the time when the witness (as he said) heard certain words sj^oken by a man at the head of a mob, and addressed to the wit- ness and others, the witness being nearest to the speaker, there was a good deal of noise and confusion ; and that the witness was alarmed ; and that, consider- ing the noise that prevailed at the time, and the witness's situation, and his alarm, the witness might not be able to swear positively to the precise words used. 3. To show that the witness spoke from hearsay : as, that the witness, who said a mob set fire to a chapel, did not see them do it; that it was on fire when OF KARRATIVE OF FACTS. 135 the witness first saw it, and who set it on fire he did not know ; nor did he know that it was a chapel, only some body told him so. 4. To test the truth of what the witness has said in general terms, by making him particularize : as, when the witness has spoken in general terms of many per- sons, saying, for instance, that many persons were present at a particular place, or many 2)ersons were forced to do a particular act against their will, to test the truth of the witness's evidence by asking him to tell the names of some persons, or the name of even one person present, or forced to do the act mentioned ; or, when the witness has given evidence of words spoken "by the prisoner to a large body of men, to test the truth of his evidence by asking the witness whether he can name any person who was present when the prisoner spoke the words mentioned 5. To show that the witness, who had identified a thing, had done so through the manner in which the identification had been put, or left to him : as, where the witness had identified a great-coat as the great-coat worn by the prisoner on a particular occasion ; and the witness, in his cross-examination, was asked whether the great-coat was not produced to him as the great- coat the prisoner had on ; whether it was produced to the witness singly, or with any other great-coats. 6. To procure an explanation of words used by the witness : as, that the witness, who said the prisoner was at home on particular days, did not mean that the prisoner did not go out on those days, but only that he was at home some part of each of those days. 7. To show that the conduct of the prisoner was consistent with his innocence, was inconsistent with guilt, was open, without concealment : as, that, with regard to papers which the witness found and seized 136 OF XAERATIVE OF FACTS. at the prisoner's house, during the whole time the wit- ness was employed in searching for them, there was not any endeavor made by the prisoner, or any of his family, to conceal or secrete any of them ; or, that, with regard to an acquaintance which the witness said subsisted be- tween the prisoner and himself, the witness was not in confidence with the prisoner ; and with regard to a conversation, which the witness said the prisoner intro- duced to him, the prisoner imposed no confidence on him, and acquainted him that he had mentioned the matter of the conversation to some other persons, and intended to mention it to more ; or, that with regard to a matter, which the witness said the prisoner communi- cated to him, on the prisoner's accidentally meeting and stopping him in the street, the prisoner communi- cated it to him in the open street, and not with any secrecy ; or, that the prisoner, who went on board a ship at Portsmouth about a week before it sailed, and who, on the part of the prosecution, it was alleged, went on board to fly from the accusation against him, did, when on board, pass by his own name, and at Portsmouth came on shore severcil times, and went publicly aT)out the streets ; or, that at the time the prisoner was in custody, no man could act with more openness in all his conduct than did the prisoner ; that on his examination before the magistrate at L., he was discharged on his own recognizances ; that after he was discharged, he remained at L. for nine days, until he was again taken into custody ; and the witness, clerk to the magistrates at L,, knew where the prisoner was the whole of that time, and frequently saw him. 8. To cause the witness to repeat something which, on his examination in chief, he has said favorable to the prisoner : as, that he could not identify the prisoner as being one among a body of men ; or, as the man OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 137 A\ iio had used certain words ; or, that althoiigli the ]aisoner was present wlien certain words were used, he was not near enousih to hear them. 9. To show that the evidence now given "by the witness contains some addition to, or contradiction of, or otherwise differs from, his evidence, statement, or story given, made, or told on some previous occasion. Many are the just objects of a cross-examination, accordino; to the circumstances of the case in which it is used, its only design being to elicit truth. But the legitimate end of a cross-examination is sometimes per- verted to serve a bad purpose — to alarm, mislead, or bewilder an honest witness ; * when the effect may be to hide rather than to brino; out truth. It is plain* that for the purpose of an effective cross- examination, -the cross-examining party must be in pos- session of some information, suspicion, or other matter, on which to found it. This he will use as a clue to the further evidence desired. Without this guide, the cross-examiner will wander in the dark, and, except by mere accident, will not arrive at any evidence of the smallest importance. The information, suspicion, or other matter forming: the sfround of a cross-examination, may be possessed quite independently of the examina- tion in chief; or it may be gained in the course of the examination in chief, or cross-examination. And, con- sequently, it is not necessary that a clue, or all the clues, by which to cross-examine, should be in hand at the commencement of the examination in chief, or cross- examination ; they may be picked up in the midst of either. In a cross-examination, the party examining makes * See Bacon's Essays, with Annotations by Archbishop Whately, p..495, ed. 1856. And sec below, oh. xi. 10 138 OF NAERATIYE OF FACTS. use of the witness as, for this purpose, Ms own wit- ness, as a witness on his own side. And he has a hope and desii'e that the evidence in the cross-examination will so contradict, vary, explain, or otherwise affect, the evidence in chief, that the result of the whole, or at least part, of the evidence on the two examinations combined, will l3e favorable to his own side. A cross-examination intended to destroy, or at least weaken, the evidence given on the examination in chief, very often ends in confirming or strengthening it. The knowledge of this frequent result of cross-examination was probably the ground of Lord Eldon's observation on interrogating a prosecutor : " He was wont to say jocularly, that he had been a most effective advocate for prisoners ; for that he had seldom put a question to a prosecutor." * Equal caution was used by O'Connell in cross-examining witnesses for a prosecution : " There is one, the most difficult, it is said, and certainly the most anxious and responsible j^art of an advocate's duties, in which O'Connell is without a rival at the Irish bar — I allude to his skill in conducting defenses in the Crown Court Though habitually so bold and sanguine, he is here a model of forethought and undeviating caution. In his most rapid cross- examinations, he never puts a dangerous question. He presses a witness upon collateral facts, and beats him down by argument and jokes and vociferation ; but wisely presuming his client to be guilty, until he has the good luck to escape conviction, he never affords the witness an opportunity of repeating his original narra- tive, and, perhaps, by supplying an omitted item, of sealing the doom of the accused." f * Life of Lord Eldon, by Twiss, vol. i. p. 106. t Curran's Sketches of the Irish Bar, vol. i. p. 174. OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 139 On the trial of O'Coigly for liigli treason, in 1798, a witness, Button, in his examination in chief, proved that a paper found in O'Coigly's pocket-book was in his handwriting. This evidence was, in a singular manner, strongly confirmed by the witness's answers to questions put to him in cross-examination: " Examination in Chief. Q. Are you acquainted with Mr. O'Coigly, the prisoner at the bar ? A. I know Priest O'Coigly very well ; I knew him at Dundalk, in the north of Ireland. Q. Are you acquainted with his handwriting ? A. I have seen him write a number of times. Q. So as to have acquired a knowl- edge of his manner of writing ? A. Yes. Q. Look at that paper, and say whether, from your knowledge of his manner of writing, you believe that to be his handwriting ? A. I do believe it to be his writing. Q. Do you include in that the sig- nature, as well as the whole body of the paper ? A. I believe it to be all the same handwriting, and Mr. O'Coigly's hand- writins. Cross-Exam {nation. Q. You have sworn you saw Mr. O'Coigly write. Upon what occasion did j'ou ever see him write ? A. On various occasions ; I have seen him write letters and notes. I can relate a singular circumstance to j-ou and the Court. There was a poor man of the name of Coleman in the gaol of Dundalk. This man had a wife, and was in great distress. The man's wife used to come to my little shop for tea and bread, and what they wanted ; she had no money, and left her husband's watch in my possession for the goods she wanted. Priest O Coigly, I believe, through an act of charity to the poor man, took upon him to have this watch raffled, to re- lieve the poor man ; he took a piece of paper, and put his own name, and after that about a dozen more, and desired me to call upon these people, and they would give me a shilling apiece; he gave me his shilling, and said he would collect more about the town. Q. Upon that occasion you saw him write ? A. Yes." * On Home Tooke's trial for high treason, in 1794, Mr. Woodfall's evidence of the prisoner's handwriting was, in a remarkable manner, confirmed on the prisoner's own cross-examination of him : =* Trial of O'Coigly (taken by Guraey), p. 135. 140 OF NAREATIYE OF FACTS. Cross-Examination. Q. Are you sure you have seen me write? A. Yes. Q. How long ago ? A. Some years ago ; I believe, full 17 ; the period is a memorable one. I allude to the circumstance of an adver- tisement for a subscription for the widows, orphans, and aged parents of the Americans who lost their lives at the battle of Lexington. Q. That was in 1775, 19 years ago ? A. You are perfectly right ; it was 19 years ago. . . . The reason why I instanced this case wag, because it was a memorable one. You delivered to me, in my brother's counting-house, a copy of the advertisement, upon which I think you wrote the words, ' For the London Packet and Morning Chronicle.' ... I don't know that I have ever seen you write but once. Q. The last time you saw me write was 19 years ago ? A. Yes." * The trial of the Earl of Thanet and others, in 1799, for a riot in court, caused by the attempted escaj)e of Mr. O'Connor (a prisoner just tried for high treason, and acquitted, but not discharged)", furnishes another instance in which a cross-examination confirmed the evidence in chief The name of the witness was Parker : " Examination in Chief. Q. Is this the handwriting of Mr. Tooke? (Showing a book to the wit- ness.) A. I believe this part (pointing it out) is ; but I cannot swear it. Q. You are not asked to do that. A. I never saw this entry — I mean merely to say, for my own sake, and that of the jury, that I only swear, that, as far as resemblance of hands strikes me, this is Mr. Tooke's writing. I have seen him wi-ite, but not so often as his writing has passed through my hands. Q. But, however, from writing that you have seen, you ai"e able to form a judgment ? A. I cannot say I am able to form a decisive judgment; but I believe, from the resemblance of hands, it is his handwriting. " Examination in Chief. Q. Did you see Lord Thanet ? A. I did. Q. What was he doing ? A. Lord Thanet evidently appeared to me to be obstructing the officers in their attempt to stop Mr. O'Connor. Cross-Examinaiio n . Q. You say Lord Thanet appeared to you to be obstructing the officers ; did you see him do any thing ? A. I saw him resisting with his hands. Q. What did he do with his hands ? A. The Bow street officers pushed forward ; and against one of them it was that he was making resistance. * Trial of John Home Tooke (taken by Gumey), vol. i. p. 81. OF KAREATIVE OF FACTS. 141 Q. Pray, which of them ? A. I cannot tell — I do not know which — I did not know either of them. Q. Can you tell whether it was against either of those two men, or against the Messenger, that he was making that resistance ? A. I cannot. Q. But you saw him put his hand against one man that was coming • forward ? A. Yes, certainly." Mr. Erskine, tlie leading counsel for the defense, in his address to the jury, took this notice only of Parker's evidence : " The evidence of Mr. Parker contains nothing which I need detain you with." This slight mention by Mr. Erskine of Parker's evidence occa- sioned Lord Kenyon, in his summing up to the jury, to make these remarks : " Counsel are frequently induced, and they are justified, in taking the most favorable view of their client's case ; and it is not unfair to pass over any piece of evidence they find difficult to deal with. . . . The learned counsel for the defendants, in his remarks on the evidence, totally forgot the * evidence of Mr. Parker. If his evidence is to be believed, and I know no reason why it is not, he certainly gave important evidence in support of this charge — that the defendants evidently appeared to be attempting to stop the officers, and assisting the escape of Mr. O'Connor. The learned counsel for the defend- ants did not choose to deal with this evidence, thouirh he conducted the cause with all possible discretion, ability, and eloquence." * A cross-examination of a witness often gives rise to a re-examination of him by the side which examined him in chief. One object and eff'ect of the re-examina- * Erskinc's Speeches, vol. iii. pp. 394, 395, 458 ; vol. iv. p. 63, 3(1 ed. 142 OF NAEEATIVE OF FACTS. tion may be to repair the damage whicli tlie cross- examination lias done the evidence given in chief. This reparation will take place, partially or wholly, if the effect of the re-examination is to damage in turn the evidence given in the cross-examination, by par- tially or wholly destroying the force of it, whether through additional facts elicited, or by altering or effacing the evidence given in the cross-examination. An effect of a re-examination may be to confirm the evidence given in the examination in chief Or, on the other hand, an effect of it may be to confirm the evi- dence given in the cross-examination. AYhen a cross-examination has brought out some fact, not contained in the evidence in chief, a re-exam- ination on that fact is, in reality, a cross-examination ; and a further examination, following this cross-examina- tion, will be a re-examination, and this may confirm the ■ original, or first cross-examination. The trial, in 1794, of Hardy, for high treason, con- tains an instance of this, in the folio wing^ cross and further examinations of the witness, Green : " Cross-examined by Mr. Erskine. Re-examined by Mr. Attorney-General Q. Did you tell Groves that you had {Sir John Scott). sold two or three hundred knives, but Q. To be sure, it is not a polite desired him to speak low, because the thing to call one's wife a damn'd aris- parlor door was open, and your wife tocrat ; what did you say about her ? was a damn'd aristocrat — did you say A. I do not recollect that I said a so? word of the kind, or threw out any A. I will make oath that I did not such hint, make use of such an expression as Q. Did you say any thing about your that. wife ? Q. Did you say any thing to him, as A. I do not recollect, to the best of if there was any thing imjDroper in my knowledge , that I mentioned any selling the knives ? thing about my wife. A. No. Q. Did you mention any thing about Q. I think it right to inform you, aristocrat ? that Groves has thought fit to swear, A. No ; I do not know that I said you told him to speak very low, for any thing about aristocrat, or my wife, that your parlor door was open, and OF NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 143 j'our wife was a damn'd aristocrat, Mr. Erskine. Did you wish to con- and that you did not want her to know ceal these knives from your wife ? that you were selling these knives? A, No."* A. I swear I said no such thing ; these knives all lay open in my shop ; so far from hiding them from my wife. they lay openly in the show-glass, and in the window, for sale. In relating a story, adherence to tlie order of time, in wLicli the circumstances took place, is usual and certainly desirable, since a subsequent introduction of an incident, that, in the order of time, should have been noticed before, disarranges the plan of the story, already in the minds of the hearers. So, in putting questions to witnesses, a strict observance of the course of time is of use, as it relieves the jury, or other per- sons called upon to consider the evidence, from the trouble they might otherwise have, of arranging anew the facts already in their minds. Of equal use it may be, to call witnesses succes- sively for examination, according to the order of time, of which they are to sjieak. But this order is not always attended to. The catastrophe of events is sometimes exhibited before the plans, which were laid to effect it. The first scene on Kush's trial disclosed the interior of Stanfield Hall, the murderer's entrance, . his discharge of fire arms, and the floor strewn with the dead and wounded. This catastrophe having been detailed by three Avitnesses, circumstances that hap- pened before were related by witnesses that followed.f So in the case of Tawell, the death of the murdered woman was proved, loefore proof of the purchase of the poison, which caused her death. J * Hardy's Trial (taken by Gumcy), vol. ill. pp. 118, 119, 120. t See " The [London] Times," of March 30th and 31st, and April 2d, 1849. X See "The Standard," of March 12th and 13th, 1845. \ 144 OF NAEKATIVE OF FACTS. Sucli a departure from the regular course of time may sometimes be produced by a desire to study and promote the convenience of witnesses in their attend- ance. But as this inversion of time is not usual, on ordinary occasions, in telling a story, the jury or other persons before whom the facts are detailed, probably expect to hear from the witnesses the tale related in the common way ; a way which necessarily saves them the trouble, after hearing the whole evidence, of sort- ing the details, and fixing them, as to time, in their proper places. It is true, that on a trial the examination of wit- nesses is commonly preceded by a statement by counsel of the facts he proposes to prove by the witnesses, and that, in this statement, these facts are usually mentioned according to the order of time in - which they hap- pened ; yet this course evidently tends to lead the jury, to expect to hear the facts related by the witnesses in the same order of time they have heard them in the statement ; and when this method is not pursued, the departure from it is likely to confuse the facts in their minds, and occasion them embarrassment. It must, besides, not be forgotten, that the story upon which the jury are to give their verdict, is not that contained in the statement of counsel (which may or may not be. proved), but that which is detailed by the witnesses. CHAPTER X. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. Sectiok I. Generally, of the Credit of a Witness. II. Of a Child's Evidence. III. Of Motives of a Witness. rV. Of affecting Credit, by certain Questions in Cross-Ex- amination. V. Of the former Conduct of a Witness. VI. Of an Accomplice. VU. Of a Spy. Viil. Of the Bankruptcy of a Witness. IX. Of a Witness's Weakness of Mind. X. Of a Witness's Demeanor under Examination. XI. Of different Evidence of Two Witnesses, XII. Of One Witness's Opinion of Another. SECTION I. GENERALLY, OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. Tliat a witness may be believed, lie must say what is credible ; and if lie does tliis, and we accept tlie knowledge, which his evidence oilers to us, the princi- ple of our acceptance of it is, our faith in him. " The ground of credit," says Hooker, " is the credil)iltity of things credited ; and things are made credible, either by the known condition and quality of the utterer, or by the manifest likeliliood of truth, which they have in themselves."* And Bishop Sherlock speaks thus of faith, as a principle of knowledge : " In common life we know many things upon the evidence of faith ; such are the things, which we receive ujion tlie authority of historical evidence, or upon the report and testimony of credible witnesses ; and such influence has this * Hooker's Eccl. Pol. book ii. s. 4. 146 OF THE CEEDIT OF A WITNESS. principle of knowledge in the world, that there is hardly any thing of consequence, that is not deter- mined by it. There is not a trial, that affects either our lives or our fortunes, the issue of which does not depend upon this princij^le of knowledge ; the judge and the jury not being supposed to have the evidence of their own senses of the facts, which come under their determination." * On a trial, a witness takes an oatb, to speak " the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." Of tiaith, Archbishop Whately says, — "Truth, in the strict logical sense, applies to propositions, and to no- thing else ; and consists in the conformity of the declar- ation made to the actual state of the case. In its etymological sense, truth signifies that which the speaker trows, or believes to be the fact. In this sense it is opposed to a lie ; and may be called inoraly as the other may logical^ truth. A witness, therefore, may comply with his oath to S2:)eak the trutb, though it so happen that he is mistaken in some particular of his evidence, provided he is fully convinced, that the thing is as he states it. Truth is often used in the sense of Teality. People speak of the truth or falsity of facts ; properly speaking, they are either Q^eal or fictitious : it is the statement that is true or false." f Of moral truth, Locke says, it is speaking of things according to the persuasion of our own minds, though the proposition we speak agree not to the reality of things." X We here learn from Locke and Archbishop Whately, what is moral truth : by another Archbishop we are * Sherlock's Discourses, vol. i. p. 385, 5th ed. t Whately's Elements of Logic, Appendix, v. Truth, ed. 1850. X Locke on Human Understanding, book iv. ch. v. s. 11. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 147 told wliat may be a disregard of this truth, a matter that some witnesses would do well to reflect on ; the disregard consisting not in direct, barefaced falsehood, but in certain inattentions to truth. Archbishop Seeker in a sermon on the words, "Lying lips are abomination to the Lord," thus particularizes these inat- tentions: "In order to apprehend rightly the full ex- tent of this sin [a lie], it must be carefully observed, that not only if we affirm any thing, which we think to be false, but if we affirm it without cause to think it true, we are still deceivers; or though we have cause to think it true, yet if we affirm it more posi- tively, than we have cause; declaring ourselves to know certainly what we only believe, or to believe firmly what we only suspect and guess, the case is but little mended ; that not only gross falsities, but more refined ones, artful quibbles and mental evasion, dark intimations and hints, not asserting, but insinuating to others, what at least we doubt within ourselves, all come under the same condemnation ; nay, that some- times an aftected silence, and at others truth itself told imperfectly and insidiously, may deeply partake of the guilt of a lie." * On a trial, or other judicial inquiry, the facts given in evidence are premises, from which a conclusion is to be drawn. That the conclusion may be just, the pre- mises must be true. When, therefore, it is the duty of a jury, or other persons to draw from the facts the just conclusion, the first step in the exercise of this duty is, to acquire a belief of the truth of the facts. Whed any one has made a statement of facts, espe- cially if he has spoken under the obligation of an oath, the proper inference is, that he meant to speak the * Seeker's Sermons, vol. v. p. 179, ed. 1771. 148 OF THE CEEDIT OF A WITNESS. trutli, unless there is some cause to raise a doubt about it.* If, from tlie coutradictory statements of a witness, from his manner in giving his evidence, or from any other cause, there is a suspicion he has spoken falsely, and at the same time no motive appears for his doing so, these general reflections relating to his credit, the belief to be given to him, may pass through the minds of the jury, or other persons, whose duty it is to judge of the evidence. They may, in favor of his speaking the truth, reflect, 1. That a very great part of every person's thoughts is occupied with realities, with things which he really perceives by his sight, hearing, or other sense, in other words, with truth ; and whether as a consequence there- from or not, a great part of every person's discourse is of realities, of what is true ; and hence the mind may acquire an aptness or bent to speak the truth. 2. That it is more difficult to invent falsehoods, than to recount realities, more especially if it be necessary to make the falsehoods appear to be consistent with realities. 3. That many persons when sworn to speak the truth, piously regard the oath. 4. That most persons fear shame and punishment ; and many are by that fear de- terred from committing perjury. 5. That perjury is seldom committed in mere w^antonness, without some sufficient motive for it. It is not to be doubted, but that many a man, like a Christian martyr, testifying with his blood, would prefer torture or death to perjury, and herein literally obey the noble exhortation of the Roman : • " Be brave, be just; and, -n-lien your country's laws Call you to witness in a dubious cause, * Ovid. Trist. Hb. iii. El. x. 35. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 149 Though Phalaris plant his bull before your eye, And, frowning dictate to your lips the lie. Think it a crime no tears can e'er efface, To purchase safety with compliance base, At honor's cost a feverish span extend, And sacrifice for life, life's only end." * There is, nevertheless, often a j)i'C)priety, or a duty, in doubting whether a witness speaks the truth. To doubt of truth is not to convict of falsehood ; it may have a directly contrary effect ; its result may be, to confirm the witness's testimony. And where the doubt exists, it need not arise from a suspicion, that the wit- ness has willfully spoken an untruth. He may very in- nocently have said what he believed to be true, although in reality it is not so ; he was himself, perhaps, deceived in his perception of a particular thing, he did not see or hear what he thought, and what he says, he saw or heard ; or, supposing his original perception was cor- rect, his remembrance of what he saw or heard may be imperfect. " It is one of the commonest mistakes to suppose, and assert, that some fact has been seen^ which was not seen at all, and often could not have been seen ; the fact being simply inferred. A witness may swear that he saw defendant knock the plaintiff down ; it is a fact which admits of being seen, and may be testified to completely. But should the fact, sworn to, be only a little more complicated, and some of its constituent ele- ments lie beyond the field of vision, the testimony be- comes proportionately fallible. For example, we can- not accept the evidence that witness saw defendant going to knock the plaintiff' down ; that is pure infer- ence ; it may be the natural interpretation every man would put u]Don what was seen, but it may nevertheless * Juvenal, Sat, viii. 80. — Gifford 150 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. be wliolly erroneous, no sucli intention having existed in tlie defendant's mind." * " Seeing is, in all cases, believing ; but in all cases we must assure ourselves of what we have seen, care- fully discriminating it from what we have not seen, but only imagined, and carefully ascertaining whether the facts seen by us are all the facts then present. It is by no means easy to see accurately any series of events ; nor, when under any strong emotion, is it easy to pre- vent the imagination from usurping the place of vision." f A witness, not unfrequently himself impairs his credit, by unawares droj^ping something, which is irre- concilable with what he has before said : — " Falstaff. But, as the devil would have it, three mis-begotten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me ; — ^for it was so dark, Hal, that thou could'st not see thy hand. Prince Henry. These lies are like the father that begets them ; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Fahtaff. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad ? Is not the truth, the truth ? Prince Henry. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand ? Come, tell us your reason ; what sayest thou to this ? " J * Blackwood's Edin. Mag., Oct., 1860, p. 382. t Blackwood's Edin. Mag., Oct. 1860, p. 395. \ Henry IV., Part i., A. ii., S. 4. OF THE CEEDIT OF A WITNESS. 151 SECTION II. OF A child's evidence.* When a child is a witness, it will be" natural to re- ceive its evidence with j^roper caution. A child may be very quick to perceive aright some things which it sees or hears ; but, from want of knowledge or experi- ence, it may perceive imperfectly other things it sees or hears. In seeing, it may mistake one thing for another ; and in hearing, may misunderstand words, and for those which it heard may substitute others of a very different meaning:. And there is dan2;er lest a child should bor- jrow somewhat from its imagination, or from what it has heard other people say, and so amplify facts beyond their just measure. But a child is naturally artless, and means to speak the truth. It is not, however, to be forgotten, that a child is open to be beguiled, biased, influenced, or intimidated by the false representations, or the promises or threats, of designing people. But hesitation, confusion or em- barrassment in telling its story may not be the effect of its doubt about what it saw or heard, or its wavering between inclination to speak truth or falsehood ; but may merely and naturally be the effect of timidity or * [ " Children and servants arc remarkably Herodotean in their style of narration. They tell every thing dramatically. Their smjs he's and says she's are proverbial. Every person who has had to settle their disjiutes, knows that even when they have no intention to deceive, their reports of conver- sation always require to be carefully sifted. If an educated man were giv- ing an account of the late change of administration, he would say, " Lord Goderich resigned, and the king in consequence sent for the Duke of Wel- lington." A porter tells the story as if he had been hid behind the cur- tains of the royal bed at Windsor. " So Lord Goderich says, I cannot man- age this business, I must go out. So the king says, says he, well, then, I must send for the Duke of Wellington, that's oXV^Macaulay^ Essay on History.'] I 152 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. baslifulness, or of its not fully understanding the words, or the drift, of a question put to it. Whenever any one gives evidence upon oath, the knowledge by him of the importance it may be in its consequences to the person, for or against whom it is given, is, in addition to the sanctity of the oath, some security against his bearing false testimony. Of this importance, a child may, in many cases, be^a very inade- quate judge. One further remark must be made on a child's evi- dence. However humiliating to human nature, how- ever appalling, the fact may be, true it is, and it must not be lost sight of, that a child, even of tender years, is capable, not only of committing perjury, but the* crime, than which there is none greater, — murder ; as in the instance related by Sir Michael Foster, of a boy of ten years of age convicted at Bury Assizes in 1748, of, the murder of a girl about five years old,* SECTION in. OF MOTIVES OF A WITNESS. Motives are a fruitful source of suspicion against a witness ; some stronger than others, and attended by corresponding effects. Some may be powerful enough to lead to perjury, although not in its full extent, yet so far as to dilute or color the evidence, to dress it up to suit a particular purj)ose. A motive to go so far as direct, unmitigated, perjury, may be, that the witness's testimony, if believed, will redound greatly to his own j^ersonal advantage ; as in the case where, being a party to a suit, he will acquire wholly or mainly, through his own evidence, an estate, money, or other advantage. * Foster, 70. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 153 Other motives in a witness to perjure "liimself may be — a present bribe, or a present promise or expecta- tion of one ; the passions envy, spite, revenge ; the de- sire to shift punishment from the witness himself on to another. There are besides motives of a less degenerate kind than others, but which ought, nevertheless, in particu- lar cases, to arouse some suspicion against a witness. These may be called influences ; influences arising from the affectionate or friendly relation, in which the wit- ness stands to the person, for or against whom he is a witness. The relation may be, of husband and wife, parent and child, brother and brother, master and serv- ant, bosom-friend and bosom-friend ; " there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." These influences may prevail to conceal truth, or overstep its boundary. SECTION IV. « OF AFFECTING CREDIT, BY CERTAIN QUESTIONS IN CROSS-EXAMINATION. To destroy or weaken the credit of a witness is very commonly attempted through his cross-examination, when the witness's own answers may injure his credit. To impair the credit of a witness, the following ques- tions have been put to him in cross-examination : — Whether he has ever been charged with theft : Whether he has ever been in gaol ; how often ; how long ago ; Avhat it was about ; whether about stealing : whether he was ever in custody on any other charge : Whether there was not a complaint made agamst the witness for fiilnucatiuir a will : Whether the witness (a soldier) had ever been pun- ished since he had been in the regiment, and what sort of punishment he received : 11 154 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITli^ISS. Upon wliat occasion tlie witness (a servant) was discharged by liis master : How often the witness had been a witness in a court of justice ; upon what occasions : Whether in any former case the witness applied to be rewarded for his evidence ; as for a place under gov- ernment : Whether the witness had not talked about the ex- pectation he had of a reward after the trial should be over : Whether the witness ever received any letter, offer- ing her any advantage, in case she would appear as a witness against the prisoner : Whether the witness, an accomplice with the pris- oner, and giving evidence for the Crown, has obtained any pardon, or has had any offer made to him of a par- don, or is in exj^ectation of a pardon, on condition of giving evidence against the prisoner : Whether the witness, an accomplice with the pris- oner, and giving evidence for the prosecution, under- stood on his previous examination before a magistrate, he was to be admitted a witness for the Crown, and to save his own life : Whether the witness had ever received or been of- fered any thing to withhold her evidence : Whether the witness had ever uttered any declara- tions of enmity against the prisoner ; whether the wit- ness had said he would be even with him : Whether the witness had not declared, he would hang the prisoner. The particular reasons, on which some questions of this kind are founded, may be here mentioned : — A witness having made a dejoosition before a magis- trate, and it being on the trial shown to him, he is asked, whether it is his, and on his answering yes, the deposi- OF TBGE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 155 tion is read ; and it is read, Chief Justice Tindal told the jury, " in order to show some contradiction between his evidence before the jury, and the evidence that he gave before the magistrate — a very proper mode of test- ing the credibility of a witness, or the correctness of his memory, either the one or the other, according to cir- cumstances." * So in another instance, on the same trial, where the deposition of the witness was read, the same learned judge told the jury, " The object of j^utting in this de- position is a very jDroper one — it is to subject the cred- ibility of the witness to your examination." In this in- stance the witness's evidence on the trial contained more than his deposition did ; it contained a conversation, which the deposition omitted; and on this omission, which the witness now accounted for, the judge made these remarks to the jury, — "He does not give any ac- count in his deposition of the conversation, which in his examination here he alleges to have passed. lie had a reason, as he alleges, for it — whether it is a good reason or a bad one, it is for you to say — it is, that he was not examined so particularly upon this occasion as he was in court ; that he was told by Mr. E., who was the gen- tleman examining him, to state what he knew about F. [the prisoner], and that is the reason he gives ; and as this was a statement, that was not made by R, and he could not say that F. heard it, he in his own mind thought, that it was not included in the general direc- tion, that he was to state what he knew about F. That is the reason he gives. It is an important piece of evi- dence, and therefore one cannot but wonder, that so im- portant a piece of information, as that conversation, should have been omitted at the first period of his * Frost's Trial (taken by Guruey), pp. 230, 703. 156 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. examination. Whether lie is speaking truly or falsely in giving it now is under your judgment. He assigns the reason for it, namely, that he was not asked ; but that if he had been asked, he should have stated it. He says, * I was not asked, I was not examined so carefully, as 1 was here.' Whether that is a satisfactory reason for the omission or not, judge you for yourselves." * Again, a witness for the crown was, on. his cross- examination, asked this question : " You have been somewhat serviceable in the course of this 23rosecution ?" Keferring to this question, Chief Justice Tindal told the jury : " That is an inquiry^ often asked, and prop- erly asked, of a witness, in order to see whether he has mixed himself up as a busybody, or partisan, going about and getting witnesses for any cause in which he is called ; because that would weaken, in some degree, the confidence you might otherwise have in him," f A witness, " a quarryman," to a question on his cross-examination, said he had been in gaol six or seven years ago, for three months, for stealing a bit of coal. And the Chief Justice Tindal told the jury : " Here is a question which is very often asked of witnesses upon cross-examination, when there is any intimation given that they have disgraced themselves, on former occa- sions, by acts of dishonesty and theft; and it is for you, who are the judges of the credit due to the wit- nesses, to say how far the circumstance of his having stolen this bit of coal, and being in prison for it, weakens the proper degree of reliance which you would otherwise place upon him. You are, from your experience and knowledge of the world, and of the * Frost's Trial (taken by Gumey), pp.. 305, 308. 725. See Way v. East, 2 DrewiT, 69. t Frost's Trial, jjp. 537, 724. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 157 occasions upon which sometimes these small thefts are committed by persons in the witness's condition of life, to say how far it is, or not, incompatible with their afterward becoming trustworthy, when they are called u23on their oath to give an account of any j^articular transaction. It is, undoubtedly, a discredit to any man, because it is a great breach of law and morality. It is not, however, that kind of breach which does by law prevent his giving evidence in the witness box. It is not au ofteuse, which in its own nature points to, or is grounded upon, the commission of falsehood ; it is not as if he had been found guilty of the crime of perjury, in which case he could not afterward have been examined. It is an act of very great dishonesty and knavery ; but how far it ought to impeach the value of his testimony, when he is called upon subsequently to give an account of a different and important transaction, you Avill determine for your- selves." * On the trial of Frost for high treason, in 1840, Harford, a collier, a w^itness for the crown, said, in his examination in chief, that, on the evening of a Sunday, a mob came to his house, and, by their compulsion, he joined and went along with them, and brought with him a sword he had in his house, and that early the next morning he made his escape from them. On his cross-examination, he said he was ap])reliended in his house by the magistrates, and kept in custody at the Union Workhouse at Newport thirteen days, on the expiration of which he was taken before the magis- trates and examined ; there was no charo-e made as^ainst him ; and he said what he had to say against Frost. On his cross-examination he also stated, that, while in * Frost's Trial (taken by Gurney), pp. 287,288, 715, 716. 158 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. custody, lie told the master of the workhouse what he could say against Frost ; that when he made this com- munication, he knew he was in custody upon a charge of taking a part in the riot ; that he had been twelve days in custody when he made that communication ; that he did not go and tell the magistrates about Fi^ost in order to get his own liberty ; that he expected to be freed from the charge himself, when he told the magistrates about Frost ; that when he had given his evidence before the magistrates, he was at once set at liberty, and went home ; and that he never feared he should be hanged for being connected in any way with the mob, because he had done nothing to be hanged, or to go to prison for. In the cross-examination of this witness there appears to have been an endeavor to prove him to be an accomplice with Frost, but the attempt certainly failed. In summing up to the jury, the Chief Justice Tindal made these comments on the cross-examination : " The ground upon which this cross- examination is submitted to you is to diminish the weight which, but for it, must have been attached to the evidence given by this man : namely, that he was in prison upon a charge of being concerned in the very transaction which we are now inquiring into ; and therefore that he must be looked uj^on as an accom- plice in the transaction, and liable to the same objection to which a person, who has been partner in guilt with the man who is under trial, is at all times subject. The answer that he gives to that is, that all the share that he had in it was, that he was there with a sword in his hand, but that it was against his will. And he further undertakes to tell you that he was not afraid that any thing would happen to him, because he thought, when he had exj)lained the circumstances, he should go free, and not be dealt with as a participator in the acts of OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 159 criminality. It is often the case, -svliere people think they may serve themselves, by giving evidence on the part of the Crown against another individual with whom they have been partaking in the common guilt of the transaction under investigation, that for the purpose of saving themselves, rather than of stating the truth, they make out a stronger case against the prisoner, and more favorable to themselves, than the real truth will warrant. Such evidence is at all times admissible before a jury, and it is their province, according to the degree of confidence which they feel they can repose in such a witness, to estimate his evidence ; and they are principally governed in that by seeing how far the testimony of such person is cor- roborated by that of any other witnesses, who are called to prove the same transaction, and who are free from any such objection." The Chief Justice, having made these remarks on this part of the witness's cross- examination, continued : " But his testimony is also sought to be impugned upon another and a different ground : namely, that he does not come forward immediately at the time, when he is first put into prison, with this account ; but that he remains in prison for the space of twelve days before he gives any account of the transaction. And you are, therefore, desired to bring this matter before your minds, and to say how far you think the witness, under such a state of circumstances, is a witness of credit, or not. They say it affects his credit, and put it to you as a ground upon which you are not to believe him at all. I have stated the objection on the part of the prisoner's counsel. The answer the man himself gives to it is, that he never considered himself as j^ersonally liable to an indictment, because he thought that when he stated the whole of his story : namely, that he was forced out 160 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. of his house with his sword, and made his escape as soon as possible, he should be treated as an innocent man, and not as a criminal. That is the question between the parties. You must estimate the value of this man's evidence according to the best of your judg- ment and discretion." * With regard to a difference between a witness's deposition before a magistrate, and his evidence in court, it is certainly very remarkable that a policeman i will often, in court, give his evidence as nearly as i possible, word for word, agreeing with the language in 1 his deposition. Probably the main cause of this exact- ness ought to be attributed, not to memory alone, but also to practice and habit. For, generally speaking, certainly, this nicety is not to be expected in testimony borne at different times, perhaps after an interval of several weeks, first in a deposition before a magistrate,. 1 and afterward in court. Speaking of the re-examina- I tion of the same witnesses, on an aj)2)eal against a con- viction under an excise information, as were examined on the original hearing. Lord Ellenborough said : *' Supposing they were confined, as far as might be, to the same facts, yet their re-examination would always, to a certain degree, be productive of fresh evidence, as it could not be supposed that any witnesses could give their testimony precisely in the same form and sub- stance as upon a prior examination." . . . . " Indeed, upon the reason of the thing, evidence, if it be to be heard a2:aiu from the mouths of the same witnesses, cannot be precisely the same ; differences must neces- sarily arise from a varied recollection of the wit- nesses." f That a certain dissimilarity in evidence is * Frost's Trial (taken by Gurney), pp. 354, 737. t 3 Maule and Sel. 140, 143. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITI^ESS. IGl in sucli cases natural, and almost unavoidable, is a point not to be forgotten in determining the credit of a witness whose deposition, and subsequent evidence in court, do not perfectly agree. SECTION V. OF THE FORMER CONDUCT OF A WITNESS. The credit of a witness is generally supposed to be injured by his having before, whether recently, or even some years back, been guilty of, or charged with, some punishable offense. With the view of damaging his credit, a witness (as before mentioned) is constantly asked, in his cross-examination, whether he has ever been charged with this or that offense ; whether he has even been in" gaol, and if so, what it was about ; and other questions of the like kind. Assuming that this distrust of the witness rests upon the principle, that every man's nature is so cor- rupt that, under temptation, he is caj)able of commit- ting perjury; and that the particular crime the witness has been guilty of, or charged with, deteriorated his nature to such a degree as to incline him to yield to the temptation to perjure himself; it may be inquired how far this distrust is rightly founded. It will be admitted that, under temptation, any man is capable of committing perjury. But this inherent corruption in man is not greater in the wit- ness than in any one else — it furnishes no reason to distrust him more than another. And supposing a man guilty of a crime, as theft, to be a witness, and to bear false testimony, it does not follow that an in- creased corruption of his nature by the theft is the cause of the perjury ; he may be a perjured man, 1G2 OF THE CEEDIT OF A WITNESS. because of the corruj^t nature of Avhicli all men par- take ; lie miglit have perjured himself, although he had not been guilty of the theft. The degree of deterioration caused to the witness's nature by his former crime may, perhaps, be rightly measured by the crime itself. For there are degrees of offenses — a pickpocket may not be prepared to commit perjury. Supposing the T^atness's nature was by his offense once deteriorated enough to dispose him to perjure himself, it is important to inquire whether it is so still. There is such a thing as repentance, whereby we forsake sin ; and the effect of repentance in him may be to reinstate him in his former moral condition, liable indeed to commit perjury, but not more so than any other man. Length of time since the offense, and intermediate good conduct, may be evidence of such repentance. Dr. Johnson relates of Shakspeare, that " he had, by a misfortune common enough to young fellows, fallen into ill company ; and amongst them, some that made a frequent practice of dear stealing, engaged him, more than once, in robbing a park that belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, near Stratford." * If Shakspeare had been put into the witness box, bearing " his blushing honors thick upon him," would not his contemporaries have believed him ? f But however in theory a person who has committed a crime, and thereby lost his good name, may be believed, and ought to be believed ; yet, certainly, in some cases, the difficulty may be insurmountable when * Dr. Johnson's Account of the Life of Shakspeare, t [Lamartine, when in the zenith of his poi)ularity, oflfered himself as a witness, and was rejected on account of his having, in his youth, been convicted of theft.] OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 1G3 it is required practically to put faith in what he says, and to act upon this belief. If the witness, guilty of a crime, comes from a line of ancestors notorious for bad character — as thieves, or rogues of any kind — he will be very much in the situation of the foxes described by Gray, whose good names were irretrievably gone, who were past belief, owing to their own trespasses and those of their ancestors. The advice of the dying sire to his numerous race, standing around him : " Would you true happiness attain, Let honesty your passions rein ; So live in credit and esteem, ^ And the good name you lost redeem," was by his offspring admitted to be good, but pro- nounced to be useless : '' The counsel's good, a fox replies. Could we perform what you advise. Think what our ancestor's have done ; A line of thieves from son to son : To us descends the long disgrace. And infamy hath marked our race. Though we, like harmless sheep, should feed, Honest in thought, in word, and deed ; Whatever hen-roost is decreased. We shall be thought to share the feast. The change shall never be believed ; A lost ffood name is ne'er retrieved." * SECTION VI. OF AN ACCokpLICE. When an accomplice, or partner with another, in some offense, Avhicli they commit, is allowed to be a witness against his associate, why is not implicit belief to be given to his testimony ? Why is there to be a * The Fox at the Point of Death. 1G4 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. doubt wlietlier liis evidence ouglit to be believed? As to what actually took place before, and at tlie time of, tlie commission of the offense, it is clear the accom- plice may have had full opportunity of seeing and hearing all that occurred. And to swear falsely, to bear false witness, is a very different offense — different both in kind and in degree of guilt from many others. Then, assuming that to bear false witness is, in degree of guilt, more heinous than some other offenses are ; unless we are prepared to say, that he who commits the less heinous offense, wdll also commit the greater, it does not follow that if a man is guilty of an offense less than perjury, he will go further and incur the guilt of perjury itself. It is well known that the inward monitor, con- science, " makes cowards of us all," in the sense that it often deters from the commission of crime ; and where the cowardice is based on no higher or better principle, it is often grounded on the fear of punishment. The man who picks a pocket, may hesitate and forbear to rob with violence ; and the robber with force may hesitate and forbear to stain his hands with blood. But this reasoning from ascent in guilt does not apply where the crime committed is, in degree of guilt, equal to, or greater than, perjury — as high treason or murder. A man who will take a part in high treason or murder, will probably not scruple to perjure himself. In all cases, a jDrinciple on which to doubt the truth of an accomplice's evidence against his com- panion, is temptation to swear falsely. To save himself, an expectation of pardon for his guilt, and of a reward for his evidence, or of the pardon alone, may be a sufficient temj^tation to him. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 165 " The long conniving damsels seek To save themselves, and would transfer The guilt — the shame — the doom — to her : Concealment is no more — they speak All circumstance which may compel Full credence to the tale they tell." * If an accomplice give evidence against his associate, witli the expectation of thereby securing pardon to himself; if this expectation be his only motive, this motive, standing alone, offers but a slight reason for disbelieving the witness. The hope of pardon is con- sistent with contrition for his guilt : and his tempta- tion to give evidence against his companion is the less, inasmuch as his own testimony Avill necessarily involve himself in that companion's guilt ; and the pardon he expects cannot, he knows, eiface the stain, which the offense, of which he owns himself to be guilty, lays on his character. If, in addition to the pardon, there be the assurance, or even the hope, of reward, this assurance or hope necessarily taints the evidence, and creates a suspicion it may not be true. Besides the open temptations of pardon and reward, temptations about which the accomplice makes no con- cealment, there may be a secret temptation, one which hidden in his own breast, he keeps to himself, that may move the witness to forswear himself; this may be ill-will toward his companion. And the possibility of this or any other bad motive, alone renders it im- perative to receive with caution the evidence of every accomplice. If it be difficult, as of necessity it is, to inquire into and learn the secret motives of a witness, as a guide to determine the belief which ought to be given to him, * Parisina, St. viii. 166 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITXESS. yet tliere are several plain ways, by whicli his veracity may be tested. It ■will be easy to see, whether his evidence is consistent in all its parts, and whether any other witness contradicts him in the main, or any material, fact ; and whether his evidence of the main, and every material, fact is confirmed by the testi- mony of another witness. Where there is such free- dom from contradiction, and such confirmation, by other witnesses, and no sufficient motive to swear falsely ap- pears, it may be hurtful to justice to withhold belief from the evidence of an accomplice. Several witnesses on the trial of Colonel Desj)ard, in 1803, for high treason, were accomj^lices with him ; and Lord Ellenborough in summing up to the jury.thus sj^oke, in general terms, of evidence given by accom- plices : — Their testimony is to be received and acted upon with an attentive and scrupulous consideration of its merit and value ; in each particular instance, they come sullied with some degree of contamination (not all, indeed, in an equal degree) ; contaminated, however, in some degree, by a particij^ation in the very crime they impute to others; but the witness who comes thus prima facie contaminated, may be so con- firmed by the consistency and clearness of his own nar- ration, and still more by its conformity to, and coin- cidence with, the substance of the testimony delivered b}^ others, not likely to have conspired with him in the crime itself, or to have had the means of concerting and colluding with him as to the matter of his testi- mony, that he, a j)erson originally standing under some degree of doubt and suspicion from the nature of his situation, and from the quality of his testimony, be- comes, at last, entitled to be believed in the fullest manner.* * Trial of Colonel Despard (taken by Gurney), p. 214. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 167 On the trial of Forbes and others, in 1823, at Dub- lin, for a conspiracy to create a riot, and for a riot, John and George Atkinson, two of the witnesses for the prosecution, were accomplices ; and on the credit to be given to them, and to accomj^lices in general, the Chief Justice in his summing up told the jury, — " Every ac- complice is in law a competent witness ; the judge is bound to receive him ; but whether he is credible is for the jury alone. In determining that question, various circumstances must be taken into consideration. In the first place, the man, who thus comes forward, proves himself to be, in a certain degree, destitute of moral sense, by admitting himself to have been a participator in guilt. In estimating the credit of a man, we are naturally led to inquire what is his moral character ; , and if you find that exceptionable, it will make you cautious in relying upon his evidence. But in following this principle to its j^ractical results, it will be necessary to recollect the nature of the crime, in which the witness admits his participation. A man guilty of an atrocious oifense, whose hands have been stained with blood, or whose heart has been polluted by treason, is a compe- tent witness ; but unless satisfactorily corroborated, a jury will seldom act upon his testimony. However, if the crime be of a less dark complexion, the inference to be deduced from his admission of being concerned in it, will be proportionally weakened There is another source of discredit in every case of an accomplice, which a jury is bound to take into consid- eration ; I mean the interested motives, which may in- duce such men to come forward — sometimes perhaps to escape punishment — to save their lives — to shield themselves from prosecution — or to entitle themselves to rewards. In all these cases, a jury should act with such jealousy, as almost to reject their evidence, unless 168 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. satisfactorily corroborated by other and more unim- peacliable witnesses Upon this subject of the credit which may be given to accomplices, it is right that I should make another observation. There never, it must be admitted, existed any man so bad or dej)raved, but that he might possibly speak the truth ; and, therefore, when a witness gives evidence in a court of justice, it is not the true question, whether he is or is not a credible person, for that is only part of the means of forming a judgment upon the real question — which is, whether what he states be true ; because it is possible that an incredible man may disclose the truth. The way to discover whether he has done so or not, is to try whether his statement be substantiated by other evidence, either of the facts, to which he has deposed, or of such a state of facts, as is inconsistent with any thins: but the truth of what he has sworn." * It may not often, yet it may sometimes, happen, that an accomplice appears under the favorable cir- cumstances noticed by Lord Ellenborough, in summing up to the jury in the case of Codling, Reid, and others, tried in 1802 for sinking a vessel with intent to defraud the underwriters. The principal A\"itness against the accused was a seaman of the name of Cooper, the man who actually bored the holes, through which the water entered the vessel and sank her. Lord Ellen- borough thus spoke of him : " The first witness, and upon whose testimony most materially the case of the prosecution depends, is Thomas Cooper. You are to take him now to be not only an accomplice, but a princi23al in the commission of the crime ; a person to whom, although competent, you would not be dis23osed * Trial of Forbes and others (taken by Greene), p. 355. OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. 1G9 to give credit ; nor ought you to do so, unless he is supported and confirmed by other testimony ; but he does stand before you in a different situation, from ahnost any other 2)erson I ever remember presented to a jury as an accomplice ; for he is not only not con- tradicted in any one 2>n,rticular, by any of the vast body of evidence collected from on board his own ship; and every person has been called to you, who filled any function in it, excepting the prisoners Codling and Reid ; he not only is not contradicted by any of them in the course of their examination, but is not attempted ' to be contradicted by any witness brought to disparage his general credit or character ; nor do any of the cir- cumstances, adduced on the part of tlie defendants, reflect either discredit upon his character, or discredit upon the story he has told ; and in the very manner of his statement there is something, which gives a de- gree of credit to his statement and story. Therefore, though he stands before you an accomj^lice, and though he is the very hand that effected the destruction of the ship, he is as little tainted by the commission of such a crime, as almost any accomj^lice, that ever pre- sents himself in a court of justice. No one person has been called to say, he would not believe him on his oath ; nor is there any motive, beyond the promise of looking after a better berth or better situation for him, that seems, to have been thrown out as a lure to him, to induce him to act the part, which he assigns to him- self in this wicked transaction." * * Trial of Codling and others (taken by Gurncy). p. 208. 12 170 OF THE CREDIT OF A WITNESS. SECTION \^L OF A SPY. Suppose a witness to have been a spy, one who watches the words and actions of others, for the pur- pose of informing and giving evidence against them. If this man is accidentally, or, from previous informa- tion or suspicion, is designedly, present during the plotting of some offense, whether against the State or Government or individuals ; and from his dislike of the meditated conspiracy, and to further the ends of justice, he conscientiously remains to learn the views and secrets of the associates in the plot, with the fixed design to stop and counteract it, or, if unable to do this, at least to aid in punishing the conspirators ; this conduct may be justifiable, both legally and morally ; and it will fol- low, that, if to convict the parties to the plot, he gives his evidence against them, the mere character of spy ought not to prejudice, or stain the credit of, the wit- ness. To this man no guilt of the plotted oftense at- taches. Another description of spy may be a man, who has . undesignedly been present at a plot, and, by the in- ducement or example of others, been tempted to join in it ; or a m party, with whom you deal, with some other discourse that he be not too mucli awake to make objections. I knew, he says, a counsellor and secretary, that never came to Queen Elizabeth with bills to sign, but he would always first put her into some discourse of state, that she mi2;ht the less mind the bills." Such a witness may also be surprised into an an- swer. In the same Essay on Cunning, Lord Bacon says, — " A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man, and lay him open. Like to him, that, havinii: chano-ed his name, and walkinor in Paul's, another suddenly came behind him, and called him his true name, whereat straightways he looked back." In the following conversation, the thing wanted to be known was disclosed by an expression hastily used : — " What do you think of this affair between Lord E. and his brother ? What affair ? Why, you know the news, surely. F. T. turns out as brave a fellow as any of us ; for instead of having run away, he was at the moment engaged in an attempt to murder his brother, or cousin, or some such near re- lation. I believe you are misinformed. I am told one J. acted as a second to them both on the occasion. Sir ! you are misinformed ; Captain J. knew nothing of any such matter as you refer to. I am Captain J. I guessed as much before. I only wished to let you know what the world may say. The world may tell what lies it pleases ; but I was not present at the rencontre between E. and T. ; I was some hundred miles off. 228 OF A WITl^ESS UNDER EXAMINATION. There now, there ivas a rencontre between them — the very thing I wanted to know. I desire you will found nothing on an expression hastily used to vindicate myself from a false aspersion. I only meant to say, if there was an affair, such as you talk of, I knew nothing of it." ^ In the case of O'Coigly, O'Connor, and others, tried in May, 1798, for high treasou, one of the witnesses for the Crown, Hugh Bell, plainly an unwilling witness, proved that the direction of a letter, dated the 24th February in the same year, was in his own handwriting ; but the Attorney General (Sir John Scott) failed in his attemj)t to make him say, at whose instance he wrote the address ; although, under the circumstances, it was next to impossible the witness could, in so short a time, have forgotten it. The object of the Attorney General was, to prove that he wrote the direction at the instance of Mr. O'Connor, one of the prisoners. The following is the examination on this point : — " Q. Did 5^ou direct any letter, at the instance of Mr. O'Connor, upon Saturday the 24th ? A. Not that I recollect. Q. Look at that direction ; is not that your hand- writing ? A. It is. Q. At whose instance did you write that address u23on that letter \ A. That I cannot tell. Q. Mr. Bell, you are a merchant in Charterhouse- square — you have directed a letter, which bears date the 24th of February, to Mr. William Williams — do you mean to say you cannot tell at whose instance you directed it ? » * St. Rouan's Well. OF A WITNESS UNDER EXAMINATION. 229 A. I do, for I have no recollection of directing it at all ; nor sliould I know that I ever had directed it, but that I know my own handwriting. Q. You mean to swear, that if it was not for its being your own handwriting, you should have no recol- lection that you ever directed it ? A. Positively. Q. You do swear it is your handwriting, and that you did direct it ? A. Yes, from its being my handwriting. Q. Have you any correspondent of that name ? A. None. Q. Why, Mr. Bell, have you never said at whose instance you directed it ? A. I never have. Q. You, however, did direct that letter ? A. I directed it. Q. Pray, Mr, Bell, do you know a person of the name of William AVilliams ? A. I do not. Q. Do you mean to say, then, that you addressed that letter, 'Mr. William Williams, Fountain Inn, Can- terbury,' so lately as February, 1798, but that you have not the least recollection how you came to address that letter ? A. I direct a great many letters every day of my life ; ^nd if this letter, or any other, was brought to me by a servant, or any body else, to direct, I should do it with a great deal of pleasure, and it would make no impression, probably, upon me — in this case it has not." * * Trial of O'Coigly and others (taken by Gurney), ijp. 87, 183, 184, 197, 500. 230 OF A WITNESS UNDEE EXAMINATION. The treatment wliicli au unwilling, dishonest wit- ness would receiv^e at the hands of Curran, is thus de- scribed by Phillips : — " At cross-examination, the most difficult, and by far the most hazardous part of a barris- ter's profession, he [Curran] was quite inimitable. There was no plan which he did not detect, no web which he did not disentangle ; and the unfortunate wretch, who commenced with all the confidence of preconcerted per- jury, never failed to retreat before him, in all the con- fusion of exposure. Indeed, it was almost impossible for the guilty to offer a successful resistance. He argued he cajoled, he ridiculed, he mimicked, he played, off the various artillery of his talent upon the witness: he would affect earnestness upon trifles, and levity uj^on subjects of the most serious import, until at length he succeeded in creating a security that was fatal, or a sul- lenness that produced all the consequences of prevarica- tion. No matter how unfair the topic, he never failed to avail himself of it ; acting upon the princij^le that, in law as w^ell as in war, every stratagem was admissible. If he was hard pressed, there was no peculiarity of per- son, no singularity of name, no eccentricity of profession, at which he would not grasp, trying to confound the self-possession of the witness by the, no matter how ex- cited, ridicule of the audience." - In the case of an unwilling, dishonest witness, it is plain it is in his power to keep the truth to hims^f; no question, no skill, no artifice, may be able to extract it from him. What reply can be given to — " I don't recol- lect," " non mi ricordo " ? And if, instead of being humored and coaxed, he meets with censure in severe language and manner, he is very likely to harden his forehead, and bid defiance to his opj)onent, presenting * Phillips' Curran and his Cotemporaries, p. 80, 4th edit. OF A WITNESS UNDER EXAMINATION. 231 against his attack tlie simple defense of, " I liave no re- collection of the matter " : He will say with lago, " Demand me nothing : what you know, you know : From this time forth I never will speak word." * * Othello, A. V. S. 2. ' CHAPTER XII. OF ADVOCACY. A PERSON can seldom be advised to plead liis own cause, when tlie aid of a professional advocate can be obtained. If he be not himself a lawyer, he will be sure to meet "with some, and very probably many, diffi- culties. He will find himself unacquainted with the knowledge, which, for his advantage, he ought to have of the law of evidence, and of the rules by which the examination of witnesses is governed, rules laid down for promoting the discovery and proof of truth. From inexperience he may not be able to arrange his evi- dence in the manner to be the most serviceable to him ; and he may not see where his evidence is strong, and where weak ; and consequently he may fail to push his advantage where the testimony for him is the most favorable, and to make the most of it where it is de- fective. In the conflict of the trial he may miss seeing advantages he has gained, and lose sight of the ground, where the strength of his own side mainly lies. x\d- vantages obtained he may lose by subsequent questions he puts to witnesses, whose answers may weaken or, perhaps, wholly eftace the superiority he had won. Calmness and temper are required in any one, who would successfully examine witnesses. These C|ualities it may be difficult for one pleading his own cause to maintain, even in examining his own witnesses; and they will be put to a much severer test, when he. comes to cross-examine the witnesses of his adversary. The latter are naturally in some degree in antagonism with OF ADVOCACY. 233 him, a circumstance in itself very unfavorable to com- posure of mind, botli on the side of the examiner and of the witnesses. And if anion s; these witnesses, there be any one, between whom and himself there exists some unfriendly feeling, a mutual dislike, quite uncon- nected although it be from the subject of the trial, this unhappy accident can hardly fail to cause him some, and probably great, inconvenience and trouble. The strife of cross-examination is rough, and its rubs and hits are dangerous to the retention of patience and temper. Supposing on a criminal trial the prisoner's charac- ter, independently of the present charge against him, is bad ; and supposing in the course of the evidence this unpropitious ftict comes out ; then if the accused pleads his own cause, there, in the dock, he stands, full in "view of the jury, in close converse, it may be said, with them, he speaking to them, they listening to him ; no screen between them to intercept the admission of dislike, dis- gust, which his countenance, his manner, his past bad character, may tend to inspire ; in such a case, it is plain his pleading for himself encumbers him with difficulties, which would, partially at least, be avoided, if an advo- cate stood ujj in his defense. The advocate then would be the prominent person ; it is his countenance, his manner, the jury would look at ; and the presence of the prisoner would be shaded by him. " Un loup disoit que I'on I'avoit vole : Un renard, son voisin, d'assez mauvaise vie, Pour ce pretendu vol par lui fut appcle. Devant le singe il fut plaide, Non point par avocats, mais par cliaque partie." There was the mischief; neither side retained coun- sel. Mark the result, — Each side was fined : — " Apres qu'on eut bien conteste, Replique, crit-, tempete, 16 234 OF ADVOCACY. Le juge, instruit de leur malice, Leur dit : Je vous connois de long-temps, mes amis ; Et tou3 deux vous pairez I'amende : Car toi, loup, tu te plains, quoiqu'on ne fait rien pris ; Et toi, renard, as pris ce que Ton te demande." * This case lias occurred : — A man on his trial for mur- der pleaded his own cause. A principal witness against him was a young woman, who, at the time of the crime imputed to him, lived with him as his housekeeper. Her he had seduced, and promised to marry ; a promise he did not fulfil. During her examination her sight of the prisoner caused her great distress : she rarely looked at him, but when she did so for a moment, her tears began to flow, and her voice was choked by emotion, so as to be almost inaudible. At the commencement of the prisoner's cross-examination of her, she, after a mo- mentary embarrassment, eyed him firmly. Her exami- nation in two days lasted many hours, during which she twice retired to suckle her child, of which the pris- oner was the father. Some questions which he asked her, relating to the connection which had subsisted be- tween them, greatly agitated her, and provoked this re- proachful reply, — " You had promised me marriage ;" and (weeping bitterly) " you must do this to wound my feelings." And later in the examination he met with this withering rebuke from her, — " I told you, when you broke your promise, that, before you died, you would repent of not keeping your word. I told you, that you would never prosper, after breaking such a promise." The jmsoner was — Kush. f If ever there was a case in which it was important the prisoner's presence should be shaded, it was this of Rush. Irrelevant matters, having no bearing whatever on * Fables de La Fontaiue, ii, 3. According to Phsedrus, the fox overdid his defense : " Te credo sur?-ipuisse, quod pulchre negas.''' — Ph Fah. i. 9. t The London Times, March 31st and April 3d, 1849. OF ADVOCACY. 235 the real issue of the case, are almost sure to be brought into the examination of witnesses, by an inexperienced person pleading his own cause. In every-day life it is a common fault to bring into a story things which have little or nothing to do with it ; just as Sancho Panza wove into his tales his strings of inapplicable proverbs, to the great annoyance of Don Quixote impatient of this trifling:. The introduction of irrelevant matters into a cause cannot fail to augment the diflolculty which a jury has in disentangling the intricacies of a case ; and whatever increases their difficulty may in propor- tion injure a pleading which stands in need of clear- ness and simplicity for its success. A person pleading his own cause, whether by think- ing he cannot say too much, or by being carried away by his feelings, or for some other reason, is very liable not to reflect, that oftentimes it is best to " let well alone," as the saying is, and silence is more useful than speech. This was Pliny's opinion. * A droll note by Pepys, in liis Diary, shows he was fully aware it is sometimes discreet to be silent. The 15th December, 1665, he makes this entry, — "Met with Sir James Bunce. ' This is the time for you,' says he, ' that were for Oliver heretofore ; you are full of em- ployment, and we, poor cavaliers, sit still and can get nothing ;' which was a pretty reproach, I thought ; but answered nothing to it, for fear of making it worse." A disadvantage attending a person pleading his own cause, whether on a civil or criminal trial, is, that he cannot speak favorably of himself with the same grace with which an advocate, who may be taken as his friend, can do. "How many things are there, * It is as much the duty of an advocate sometimes to say nothing, as it is on other occasions to make a long speech ; and, indeed, I remember some criminal cases in which I defended my client better by saying nothing than I should have done by a most elaborate oration. — Epist. vii. 6. 236 OF ADYOCACT. whicli a man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself. A man can scarce allege his own meiits with modesty, much less extol them : a man cannot sometimes brook to supplicate or beg ; and a number of the like : but all these things are graceful in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own." * Ad\"ice like this Solomon thought worthy to be recorded, as among his Proverbs we read, — " Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own lips." A party to a law suit may know more of the sub- ject of it, and of the science, art, or other branch of knowledge bearing upon it, than any one in the profes- sion of the law, and yet he may not be able to support his own cause with the clearness, skill, power, and effi- ciency, with which the professional advocate will sustain it. Let the advocate already possess, or be supplied for the occasion, whether by the client himself,- or from any other source, with the knowledge necessary to the end in view, and the advocate will for this purpose make more of it, turn it to a better account, than the client himself could do. An opinion of this sort Cicero puts into the mouth of Crassus, and it may fairly be taken to be that of Cicero hnuself ; suj^posing at the same time the advocate be, in Crassus and Cicero's meaning of the word, an orator.j- * Bacon's Essay on Friendsliip. t If an orator is ignorant of certain arts and sciences, and is acquainted only ■u'itli the usual subjects debated in the forum or elsewhere, yet if he is called upon to speak on those arts or sciences, and shall be instructed in them by professors of them, he will speak much better on these subjects than the very persons, who taught him, will be able to do. Thus, if SuljDi- cius is required to speak on a military subject, he will seek information from Marius ; and, after he has obtained it, he will make such a speech on military affairs, that, to Marius himself, Sulpicius will appear to know more of the subject than even Marius does. So, again, if Sulpicius has occasion to OF ADVOCACY. 237 " At tliis time (1759), there being a competition among the architects of London to be employed in the buihiing of Blackfriars Bridge, a question was very warmly agitated, whether semicircular or elliptical arches were j^referable. In the design offered by Mr. Mylne, the elliptical form was adopted, and therefore it was the great object of his rivals to attack it. John- son's regard for his friend Mr. Gwyn induced him to engage in this controversy against Mr. Mylne ; and after being at considerable pains to study the subject, he wrote three several letters in the Gazetteer, in opposi- tion to his plan. If it should be remarked, that this was a controversy which lay cpiite out of Johnson's way, let it be remembered, that, after all, his employing his powers of reasoning and eloquence uj)on a subject, which he had studied on the moment, is not more strange than what we often observe in lawyers, who, as Quicquid agunt homines is the matter of law-suits, are sometimes obliged to pick up a temporary knowledge of an art or science, of which they understood nothing till their brief was delivered, and appear to be much masters of it."" Gray says very truly in a letter to his friend West, who could not force his inclination to like the study of the law, and to dissuade him from being disgusted with speak on law, he will communicate with you, Screvola ; and after you. a most learned and experienced man, have taught him law, he will, so far as speak- ing upon law goes, surpass even yourself, who instructed him. And so if it happen that Sulpicius is to discourse on human nature, particular vices of mankind, pain, death, he will, if he shall think it befitting him (for an orator ought to l)e familiar with these topics), consult Sextus Pompeius, a man learned in philosophy. And in any case, let the subject be what it may, Sulpicius certainly will accomplish this, — that, whatever subject he shall have been taught, on this he will sjicak much more eloquently than he, from whom he learnt it, can hope to do. — C/c, De Oratore, i. 15. * Life of Johnson, by Boswell, vol. ii. p. 115, ed. 1835. 238 OF ADVOCACY. its dry and unentertaining elements, — " It is strange, if, among all that huge mass of words, there be not some- what intermixed for thought. Laws have been the result of long deliberation, and that not of dull men, but the contrary ; and have so close a connection with histoiy, nay, with philosophy itself, that they must par- take a little of what they are related to so nearly."* It may not be too bold to assert, that " the sparks of all sciences in the world are covered in the ashes of the law."t For the purpose of addressing the jury, and also for the examination of witnesses, and especially their cross- examination, it is essential that an advocate possess at the time of the trial a competent general knowledge of the science, art, trade, or other subject involved in the question in the cause, and an intimate acquaintance with such particulars of the subject as the question immediately touches, and quickness in making use of them, and turning them to account. These particulars may be, — Materials used in any branch of trade, the process of a particular manufacture, custom and prac- tice in commercial dealings and aifairs, agricultural works, ships, railways, mines, quarries, medicines, poi- sons, chemistry, surgery ; and the technical, peculiar, and provincial words and phrases confined to, or in use upon, each particular subject. Sir Edward Coke has left us his opinion, that some knowledge of every science and art is, not only useful, but even necessary to a lawyer. J * Gray's Works, vol. i. p. 254, ed. 1807. t Finch., Book i. ch. iii. I If it be asked, of what arts and sciences a knowledge is necessary for a full knowledge and understanding of our laws ; I answer, that since not only laws, but also all arts and sciences, are subjects of jurisprudence, I not only do not exclude any art or science, but I consider a knowledge of every one of them not only useful, but even essential to a lawyer. — Preface OF ADVOCACY. 239 It is a common saying, — " One tale is good, till another be told." And hence the common and useful advice, — amli alteram partem; hear the other side. The story of the highway robbery by Prince Henry and his " wonted followers " had two sides ; and Fal- staifs version of it dissolved before that of Prince Henry : " Mark now," said the Prince to Falstaff, " how plain a tale shall put you down."* The relation of the other side of a tale completely cleared Sir Thomas More from the imputation of having, when Lord Chancellor, received a gift as a bribe. One Parnell made a com- plaint, that a decree had been improperly obtained by his adversary Vaughau, whose wife, he said, had bribed the Chancellor by a gilt cup. Hear the other part of the tale, said More. He then acknowledged that he re- ceived the cup as a new year's gift ; and that having drunk to the lady of wine, with which his butler had filled the cup, she having pledged him, he restored the cup to her, and would listen to no refusal from her to take it back again.f T-o Sir Roger de Coverley viewing his own portrait, painted for the sign of an inn, and altered to the Sara- cen's Head, and j^ressing Mr. S23ectator to say, whether the head was not still more like himself than a Saracen, the prudent reply was, that " much might be said on both sides." J to Co. Rep. part iii. [Chief Justice Parsons used to say that many persons Tvondered at his studying all sorts of things, and supposed this diversity of pursuits must interfere with his profession ; the contrary, however, was true, for there was scarcely any thing which he had learned, particularly if it were of a scientific character, which he did not find, at some time or in some way, useful to him as a lawyer or as a judge.— J/ort or effect of it as he thinks will best sus- tain the interest of his client. He may even omit to bring to the notice of the court, any principle, case, or * Gulliver's Voyage to the Houyhnlinms. OF ADVOCACY. 245 authority, which he considers is opposed to his client's interest ; for on the principle that the court needs no instruction from the advocate, he may conclude that the court is in possession of it. Taking another civil case, and supposing the issue to be, a question of fact to be determined by the jury ; iu this instance it is essential to justice that the wit- nesses give in evidence all the facts which, of their own knowledge, they are acquainted with. If then after an advocate has, in his examination of his own witness, brought out certain facts, which supjDort his client's case, he is aware that the witness is also in possession of another fact, which if made knowTi he thinks would hurt or endanger his own client, and in proportion assist his adversary ; under these cii'cumstances, the advocate must, it is imagined, find himself in this strait : — if he questions the witness on the j^articular fact, his answer may prejudice his client's cause ; and if he omits to examine the witness ujDon it, then, to the extent of the concealed matter, the advocate risks making himself a conniver at injustice towards the other side ; for he cannot be sure, either that the witness will, without any examination upon it, divulge the omitted fact, or that the opposite side will, on cross-examining the wit- ness, elicit it out of him. To notice next the case of a criminal prosecution. If it be inquired, whether an advocate can, with a safe con- science, 2:>lead for a prisoner, or other accused person, who, he believes, is guilty, the question suggests these observations: — The advocate's belief of the guilt may be formed from the circumstances disclosed in his in- structions for the defense, or even from the express con- fession of the accused person to the advocate himself. On a criminal prosecution, one principle acted on by the English law is, that no one is bound to convict him- 246 OF ADVOCACY. self; another is, that the onus 'probandi^ the burthen of proof of the offense charged, lies on the party prosecut- ing. These principles exempt the advocate of any one accused from all obligation to divulge, through his ex- amination of the lyitnesses, any fact of which the advo- cate may happen to have knowledge, and which he thinks will be injurious to his client. The conscience of the advocate cannot be hurt except by a breach of his duty: he owes no duty to the public, nor to any one, to disclose the accused person's guilt ; his whole duty is to his client ; and this duty is, to take care that his client have justice. Southey having taken occasion to observe, " There is but too much cause to conclude, that our moral sense is more easily blunted than our physical sensations," goes on to assert : — " The most upright lawyer acquires a sort of Swiss conscience * for professional use ; he is soon taught that considerations of right and wrong have nothing to do with his brief, and that his business is to do the best he can for his client, however bad the case. If this went no farther than to save a criminal from punishment, it might be defensible on the ground of humanity, and of charitable hope. But to plead with the whole force of an artful mind, in furtherance of a vexatious and malicious suit, — and to resist a rightful claim with all the devices of legal subtlety, and all the technicalities of legal craft, — I know not how he, who considers this to be his duty toward his client, can re- concile it with his duty toward his neighbor." And after making an allusion to persons who "would resent any imputation upon their honor or their courage, as an offense not to be forgiven," Southey thus continues, — " It is difficult to understand, how even such persons * As mercenary soldiers it is presumed is meant. OF ADVOCACY. 247 can undertake to plead the cause of a scoundrel in cases of seduction, — how tliey can think that the acceptance of a dirty fee is to justify them for cross-examining an injured and unhappy woman, with the cruel wanton- ness of unmanly insult, bruising the broken reed, and treating her as if she was as totally devoid of shame as they themselves of decency and humanity. That men should act thus, and be perfectly unconscious the while that they are acting a cowardly and rascally part, and that society should not punish them for it, by looking upon them as men who have lost their caste, would be surprising, if we did not too plainly see to what a de- gree the moral sense, not only of individuals, but of a whole community, may be corrupted." * Southey has, it may be thought, with more zeal than judgment, animadverted on what he is pleased to call the " Swiss conscience " of a lawyer, in remarks which unnecessarily assail the Swiss nation, and are intended to stigmatize the English bar. This amiable man has here displayed his kindness of heart, but at the same time has betrayed his ignorance of these principles of advocacy, viz., not to prejudge a case ; and, whether in attack or defense, to see justice done to one's own client. Through an abuse of an advocate's privileges by indi- viduals, in particular instances, he has, without distinc- tion of men, their minds, principles and characters, in- considerately aspersed in an equal degree the whole bar. In the instance of seduction he mentions, he assumes that the advocate before the trial knows the defendant to be a scoundrel. But let this assumption not be made, then the rascality of the defendant is the very point of the trial, the point to be proved, and, until such proof, the defendant is in law innocent. The advocate, * The Doctor, vol. ii. pp. 292, 293, ed. 1834. 248 OF ADVOCACY. on receiving Lis brief, is not to prejudge his client's case ; his office is, to defend liim ; to see that the wit- nesses against him speak nothing but the truth. Per- sons accused of the greatest crimes; — a murderer, a traitor, — are entitled to this protection. Southey is right in saying, that the advocate is not justified in cross-examining a woman " with the cruel wantonness of unmanly insult;" and if such atrocity has in ruder times been practiced, and may still not be quite un- known, yet the modern more refined feelings and man- ners, generally diftused throughout society, hold out a promise of its early extinction. The defense of a bad cause is the subject of the fol- lowing observations by Sir John Davis, Attorney-Gen- eral in Ireland in the reign of James I. Among other " vulgar imputations cast upon the law and lawyers," he particularizes this, — " That many bad and dis- honest causes are wittingly defended by the professors of the law." And in answer to this objection he says, — " There is yet another exception against the professors of our law, namely, that wittingly and willingly they take upon them the defense of many had causes, hnoiuing the same to be unjust, when they are first consulted with and retained. And this is objected, by such as presume to censure our profession, in this manner. In every cause between party and party (say they) there is a riglit, and there is a wrong, yet neither the one party nor the other did ever want a counsellor to main- tain his cause. This may be true for the most part, and yet in truth the learned counsel, whose fortune it is to light on the wrong side, may be free from imputation of any blame. For when doth the right or wrong in every cause appear ? When is that distinguished and made manifest ? Can it be discovered upon the first commencement of the suit, and before it be known OF ADVOCACY. 249 what pan be alleged and proved by either party ? As- suredly, it cannot ; and, therefore, the counsellor, when he is first retained, cannot possibly judge of the cause whether it be just or unjust, because he hears only one part of the matter; and that also he receives by infor- mation from his client, who doth ever put the case with the best advantage for himself. But when the parties have pleaded, and are at issue; when they have ex- amined witnesses in course of equity, and be descended to a trial in course of law ; after publication and hear- ing in the one cause, and full evidence delivered in the other ; then the learned counsel of either side may, per- haps, discern the right from the wrong, and not before. But then are the causes come to their catastrophe, and the counsellors act their last part. And yet until then the true state of the cause on both sides could not pos- sibly be discovered. * The subject of an advocate's supporting a cause which " he knows to be bad," is thus treated by Dr. Johnson in a conversation between him and Boswell : — " I asked him whether, as a moralist, he did not think the prac- tice of the law, in some des-ree, hurt the nice feelino; of honesty. Johnson. Why, no, sir, if you act j)roperly. You are not to deceive your clients with false represen- tations of your opinion : you are not to tell lies to a judge. Boswell. But what do you think of supporting a cause which you know to ])e bad % Johnson. Sir, you do not know it to be good or bad, till the judge determines it. I have said that you are to state facts fairly ; so that your thinking, or what you call know- ing, a cause to be bad, must be from reasoning, must be from your suj^posing your arguments to be weak and inconclusive. But, sir, that is not enough. An argu- * Preface to Sir John Davis' Reports. 17 250 OF ADVOCACY. ment wliicli does not convince yourself may convince the judge, to whom you urge it : and if it does not con- vince liim, why then, sir, you are wrong, and he is right. It is his business to judge ; and you are not to be con- fident in your own opinion that a cause is bad, but to say all you can for your client, and then hear the judge's opinion."'^ There is another point connected with this subject, the advocate's affecting warmth when he does not feel it, upon which Dr. Johnson, in continuation of the same conversation, has also expressed his oj)inion: — "^os- well. But, sir, does not affecting a warmth when you have no warmth, and appearing to be clearly of one opinion, when you are in reality of another oj)iniou, does not such dissimulation impair one's honesty % Is there not some danger that a lawyer may put on the same mask in common life, in the intercourse with his friends^ Johnson.^ Why, no, sir. Every body knows you are paid for affecting warmth for your client ; and it is, therefore, properly no dissimulation : the moment you come from the bar you resume your usual behavior. Sir, a man will no more carry the artifice of the bar into the common intercourse of society, than a man, who is paid for tumbling upon his hands, will continue to tum- ble upon his hands, when he should walk on his feet." The advocacy of a bad cause is a subject of further remarks by Dr. Johnson in a conversation which Bos- well has recorded : — " We talked of the practice of the law. Sir William Forbes said, he thought an honest lawyer should never undertake a cause which he was satisfied was not a just one. Sir, said Johnson, a law- yer has no business with the justice or injustice of the cause which he undertakes, unless his client asks his * Life of Jolinsou, by Boswell, vol. iii. p. 36, ed. 1835. OF ADVOCACY. 251 opinion, and then lie is bound to give it honestly. The justice or injustice of the cause is to be decided by the judge. Consider, sir, what is the purpose of courts of justice ? It is, that every man may have his cause fairly tried, by men appointed to try causes. A lawyer is not to tell what he knows to be a lie ; he is not to produce what he knows to be a false deed ; but he is not to usurj) the province of the jury and of the judge, and determine what shall be the effect of evidence, what shall be the result of legal argument. As it rarely happens that a man is fit to plead his own cause, law- yers are a class of the community, who, by study and experience, have acquired the art and power of arrang- ing evidence, and of applying to the points at issue what the law has settled. A la^vy^er is to do for his client all that his client might fairly do for himself, if he could. If by a superiority of attention, of knowl- edge, of skill, and a better method of communication, he has the advantage of his adversary, it is an advant- age to Avhich he is entitled. There must always be some advantage, on one side or other; and it is better that advantage should be had by talents than by chance. If lawyers were to undertake no causes till they were sure they were just, a man might be precluded alto- gether from a trial of his claim, though, were it judi- cially examined, it might be found a very just claim."* It is interesting to read in the following relation, taken from Lord Eldon's Anecdote Book, the just opin- ion which his lordship, when Mr. Scott, a young man, had formed of the duty of counsel in conducting a cause, and the bold manner in ^vhicli he ventured to lay it be- fore a " leader," of whose j^ractice in conducting a case he did not approve ; and it is no less interesting to see * Life of Johnsou, by Boswell, vol. iv. ]i. IG, ed. 1835. 252 OF ADVOCACY. the gentleness of tlie man in full practice under tlie censure of a "junior," who had no business at all: — " When I first Avent the Northern Circuit, I employed my time, having no business of my own, in attending to the manner in which the leadino- counsel did their busi- ness. I left Lancaster, at the end of a circuit, with my friend Jack Lee, at that period a leader upon the cir- cuit. We supped and slept at Kirkby Lonsdale, or Kirkby Stephen. After supper I said to him, ' I have observed that throughout circuit, in all causes, in which you Avere concerned, good, bad, indifferent, whatever their nature was, you equally exerted yourself to the utmost to gain verdicts, stating evidence and quoting cases, as such statement and quotation should give you a chance of success, the evidence and the cases not be- ing stated clearly, or quoted with a strict attention to accuracy, and to fair and just representation. Can that,' said I, ' Lee, be right ? Can it be justified ? ' — ' Oh, yes,' he said, ' undoubtedly. Dr. Johnson,' he stated, ' had said, that counsel were at liberty to state, as the parties themselves would state, what it was most for their interest to state.' After some interval, and when he had had his evening bowl of milk-punch and two or three pipes of tobacco^. he suddenly said, ' Come, Master Scott, let us go to bed. I have been thinking upon the questions that you asked me, and I am not quite so sure that the conduct you represented will bring a man peace at the last.' " I have understood that Dr. Johnson's statement was to this effect : that as it was the duty of counsel to give information to the court, he ought to state facts accurately, to quote cases accurately, to misrepresent nothing, with respect either to facts or cases ; and hav- ing accurately stated facts and quoted cases, he was at liberty in conscience to reason uj^on them to the very OF ADVOCACY. 253 best of his powers and abilities ; and as tlie law sup- posed the judge to be an abler man, and an abler lawyer, than the counsel, the judge was to reason better upon the facts and the cases than the counsel ; and, proceed- ing in this way, the counsel did nothing wrong in thus gaining the cause for his client. But it may be ques- tioned, whether even this can be supported."* Coleridge has left us his opinion on the necessity for an order of advocates, and on their duties. It is thus expressed, — " There is undoubtedly a limit to the exer- tions of an advocate for his client. He has a right, it is his bounden duty, to do every thing which his client might honestly do, and to do it with all the effect, which any exercise of skill, talent, or knowledge of his own may be able to produce. But the advocate has no right, nor is it his duty, to do that for his client which his client inforo conscientice has no right to do for him- self; as, for a gross example, to put in evidence a forged deed or will, knowing it to be so forged. As to mere confounding witnesses, by skillful cross-examination, I own I am not disposed to be very strict. The whole thing is perfectly well understood on all hands ; and it is lit- tle more, in general than a sort of cudgel-playing be- tween the counsel and the witness ; in which I think I have seen the witness have the best of it, as often as his assailant. It is of the utmost importance, in the ad- ministration of justice, that knowledge and intellectual power should be as far as possible equalized between the Crown and the prisoner, or plaintiff and defendant. Hence especially arises the necessity for an order of ad- vocates, — men whose duty it ought to be, to know what the law allows and disallows ; but whose interests * Life of Lord Eldon, by Twiss, vol. i. p. 106, ed. 1844. 254 OF ADYOCACY. should l)e wholly indifferent as to the persons or char- acters of their clients."'^ In England, as in ancient Rome, among the bright- est ornaments of the " order " are men of humble birth.f The oath which a jury takes is, to give a true verdict according to the evidence. From this it follows, that no comment, no insinuation, no argument by an advocate ought to be of any value with the jury, that does not arise out of the evidence, and is not justified by it. The eloquence of the advocate may be addressed to the understanding of the jury, or to their feelings. In the majority of instances the chief aim of the ad- vocate is, to convince the understanding. To effect this there is a range of topics, and a method, of which almost all cases admit ; viz., to introduce such general obser- vations as are pertinent to the cause in hand ; to point out the completeness of a chain of evidence, or the fail- ure of a material link ; to insist on the fullness of the evidence on his client's side, and the meagreness of it on his opponent's ; to dilate on the credit or discredit of witnesses ; to meet and take off the adversary's comments, insinuations, and arguments ; and, without wasting effort on lesser matters, to seize on his own client's strong point, attract the jury to it, and by reiter- ated strokes to impress it deej^ly on the minds of the * Coleridge's Table Talk, vol. ii. p. 4, ed. 1835. " On a souvent besoin d'unplus petit que soi.*' — Falles de La Fontaine, i. 11. t Juvenal, viii. 47. + [" Hume is an accomplished advocate without positively asserting much more than he can prove ; he gives prominence to all the circumstances which support his case ; he glides lightly over those which are unfavorable to it ; his own witnesses are applauded and encouraged ; the statements which seem to throw discredit on them are controverted ; the contradic- tions into which they fall are explained away ; a clear and connected ab- OF ADVOCACY. 255 We learn from a letter of Pliny the different ways in wliicli he and another Roman conducted their clients' cases.* It has been considered a defect in Lord Eldou, when at the bar, that he did not sino-le out one strons; point of his case, and mainly rest and insist upon that, but chose rather to rely on number, mingling strong and wea-k points together. " He was defective,." says Lord Brougham, " in one of the. great qualities of an adv^ocate — a promj^t and steady determination as to the course he should pursue, that which is called the coiq:) d'oeil in the field. His wish to leave nothing unnoticed being proportioned to the extreme anxiety of his dis- position, he fre(|uently overlaid his case at the bar, while the multitude of his points gave his adversaries the opportunity of entangling him in the mazes of his own web, and still oftener enabled them to defeat him stract of their evidence is given ; every thing that is oflfered on the other side is scrutinized with the utmost severity ; every suspicious cii'cumstance is a ground for comment and invective ; Tihat cannot be denied, is extenuated or passed by without notice ; concessions even are sometimes made ; but this insidious candor only increases the effect of the vast mass of sophis- try." — Macaulay, Essay on Eistory.'] * " I remember when Reguhis and I Avcre concerned together in a cause, he said to me, ' You seem to think it necessaiy to dwell upon every single circumstance ; whereas I always take aim at once at my advei"sary's throat, and there I closely press him.' ('Tis true, he tenaciously holds whatever part he has once fixed upon ; but the misfortune is, he is ex- tremely apt to mistake the right place.) I answered, it might possibly happen, that what he called the throat was, in reality, some less vital part. As for myself, said I, who do not i)retend to direct my aim with so much certainty, I attack every part, and push at every opening ; in short, to use a vulgar proverb, I leave no stone unturned. As in agriculture, it is not my vineyards, or my woods alone, but my fields also that I cultivate ; and (to pursue the allusion) as I do not content myself with sowing those fields with only one kind of grain, but employ several different sorts ; so, in my pleadings at the bar, I scatter various arguments like so many kinds of seed, in order to reaj) from thence whatever may happen to succeed ; for the disposition of your judges is as precarious, and as little to be ascer- tained, as that of soils and seasons." — Melmotii. Plin. Epist. i. 20. 256 OF ADVOCACY. on some immaterial ground, where lie was weak, though other stronger and impregnable ^^ositions were his, had he never ventured out of them to fio-ht at a disadvant- age. Where a single and a learned judge alone is to deal with a case, this will seldom mislead him, but be" fore a jury its defects must have been extremely preju- dicial. Accordingly his greatest failures were in such proceedings." * An advocate's success with a jury may be hoped for, if he can by any means gather their own view of a point. To keep that view before them, and encourage it, cannot fail to do good service.f On the force which an advocate's arguments ought to have, the opinion of Dr. Johnson is thus recorded : " Sir James Johnson happened to say, that he paid no regard to the arguments of counsel at the bar of the House of Commons, because they were paid for sj^eak- ing. Johnson. Nay, sir, argument is argument. You cannot helj) paying regard to their arguments, if they are good. If it were testimony, you might disregard it, if you knew that it was purchased. There is a beautiful image in Boyle upon this subject : testimony is like an arrow shot from a long bow ; the force of it depends on the strength of the hand that draws it. Argument is like an arrow from a cross-bow, which has equal force though shot by a child." % The exact words of Boyle appear to be these : '' Testimony is * Lord Brougham's Historical Sketches of Statesmen, 2d series, p. 66, ed. 1839. t " As every man naturally favors bis own discoveries, when he hears an argument urged, which had before occurred to himself, he will certainly embrace it as extremely convincing. The orator, therefore, should so adapt himself to his audience, as to throw out something, which every one of them, in turn, may receive and approve as conformable to his own par- ticular sentiments." — Melmoth. Plin. Epist. i. 20. X Life of Johnson, by Boswell, vol. viii. p. 281, ed. 1835. OF ADVOCACY. 257 like the sliot of a long bow, wliich owes its efficacy to tlie force of the shooter ; argument is like the shot of the cross-bow, equally forcible whether discharged by a giant or a dwarf." ^ Agreeably to what Boyle and Johnson say, the argument of a " young counsel " may prevail over that of onB older and more experienced. In Pepys' Diary is found this note : "23d April, 1669. To the council chamber, and heard two or three cases ; among others, that of the complaint of Sir Philip Howard and AYat- son, the inventors, as they pretend, of the business of varnishing and lackerworke, against the Company of Painters, who take upon them to do the same thing ; where I saw" a great instance of the weakness of a young counsel, not used to such an audience, ao-ainst the Solic- itor-General and two more able counsel, used to it. Though he had the right of his side, and did prevail for what he pretended to against the rest, yet it was with much disadvantage and hazard." f As in the case mentioned by Pepys, a " young coun- sel" may often be equal to the occasion, and prevail; yet sometimes the strong massive structure of merits and argument may require the strength and skill of a "Solicitor-General" to subvert it. J When the feelings of a jury are appealed to, then supposing the advocate to be really moved by the situ- ation of his client, moved to anger, pity, thirst for re- dress for Avrongs inflicted by, it may be fraud, treach- ery, cruelty ; if the advocate shows his emotion and • * Johnson's Diet. v. Cross bow. t Pepys' Diary, vol. iv. p. 158, Gth etl. I Few words suffice to win a cause that's phxin ; A structure loose, what force can it withstand ? Strongholds and firm-knit walls great strength must gain, Although defended by a slothful band. Ovid Trist. Lib. iii. EJ. xi. 21. 258 OF ADVOCACY. sym23atliy l^y liis words, countenance, and demeanor, extending even to the sliedding of tears, tliis manifest- ation of feeling will powerfully tell witli the jury, if the evidence on the trial warrants the appeal, if the bare tale told by the witnesses works on the jury's feelings. But if this naked tale fail to move the jury, they may susj^ect the advocate's emotion to be ]f{it on ; it may j)ass in their minds, — " Eloquence takes either side : " '• Does justice, or the clieBt's sense. Teach lawyers either side's defense ? The fee gires eloquence its spirit ; That only is the clieufs merit." * This, in truth, is a weak point in hired advocacy ; the fee begets a suspicion of simulated concern and emotion. Tears are indicative of a soft heart. f But it is Cicero's advice, tiiat, when the jury are touched, the advocate's tears should cease ; and this he thinks, on good authority, they easily can.;]; For the purj^ose of justice, a jury should possess a pro23er fear of the advocate's 2:)ower of eloquence ; a power of oj^posite tendencies, — able to lead aright, but also to mislead ; having power to dazzle, fascinate, " to make the worse appear the better reason ; " " With magic dust their eyne he tries to blind." § It is not, however, often that it is needful, or in l^lace, to exhort a jury to beware of this baneful in- fluence of eloquence. On a trial, it is commonly the =^ Gay's Fables, part ii. 9. t Juvenal, xv. 131. I So soon as their hearts are touched, it -will not be advisable to con- tinue weeping ; and, as Appolonius has said, nothing dries up sooner than a tear. — De Inventione, i. 56. § Thomson's Castle of Indolence, canto ii. st. 41. OF ADVOCACY. 259 evidence tliat alone governs the verdict. A trial re- sembles a contest, in wliicli tlie Avitnesses are tlie com- batants. Tliese on tlie one side are pitched against those on the other ; and the opposed advocates range and fio'ht them, the one set asjainst the other. The end of it is, — " Look here upon this picture, and on this ; " each advocate claiming j^re-eminence for the evidence on his own side. Evidence is eloquence. It is usually, as it ought to be, the most powerful kind of eloquence to 2>ersuade a jury. It was probably so in the grand and memorable defense of Hardy, on his trial for high treason in 1794.* Hardy was indicted on that branch of the statute of Edward III. which makes it treason to conspire to de- pose the king and put him to death. Erskine and Gibbs, the counsel for Hardy, rested his defense chiefly on the evidence, that the intention of Hardy and the persons indicted with him, was, not to dej^ose the king and put him to death, but to procure a reform in the House of Commons, according to the plan of the Duke of liichmond contained in a letter which he had written to Lieutenant-Colonel Sharman. To prove to the jury that this was Hardy's only intention was the steadily- continued aim of Erskine and Gibbs, in their cross-ex- amination of the witnesses for the Crown, in their ex- amination of the witnesses for the defense, and in their addresses to the jury ; this intention to procure reform they used as a wedge to drive out the intention in the indictment to depose the king and to put him to death. Of the two speeches of Erskine and Gibbs to the jury, it is probable thcet, so far as j^leasure is excited in an audience by the delivery of an address by a speaker copious in words, of fruitful imagination, and ardent and graceful in manner, the jury listened to the sj^eech * See the Trial, takeu by Gurney, ed. 1795. 260 OF ADVOCACY. of Erskine witli greater pleasure than they did to that of Gibbs. The dryness and heaviness of legal topics, necessarily introduced into ErsMne's speech, as the statute of Edward III., and the cases and authori- ties upon the construction of it, must have been much relieved, and the strain on the minds of the jury, by long close legal arguments upon these topics, must have been most beneficially eased, by ErsMne's occasional excursions into topics of a lighter character; topics more readily understood and supj)lying much refresh- ment to the mind ; he every now and then diverging into matter, which, as he said, " obtruded itself upon his mind from common reading," and entering upon di- gressions in which, to use his own words, " he must ex- press himself as the current of his mind would carry him." Buoyancy and life were poured into his address, by his glance at and reprobation of the impeachment of Warren Hastings, by his quotations from Thomson and Burke and Johnson, by his eulogies of the charac- ters and Avi'itings of these distinguished men, by his feelino; mention of Burke, then " bending; beneath the ju'essure of a domestic misfortune," and by his touch- ing allusion to the recent death of the wife of Hardy, who if convicted must return no more to his family — " Alas, gentlemen, what do I say, he has no family to return to ; the affectionate partner of his life has already fallen a victim to the surprise and horror which attended the scene now transacting." And in putting an imaginary j^ossible case, that a conspiracy to effect a reform in the House of Commons, by pamphlets and speeches, might ^d in the death of the king ; as in this way, — " which pamphlets and speeches might produce universal suffrage, which universal suf- frage might eat out and destroy aristocracy, which de- struction might lead to the fall of monarchy, and, in OF ADVOCACY. 261 the end, to the death of the kiug," he was led to re- mind the jury of the nursery story, "The House that Jack Built : " — " Gentlemen, if the cause were not too serious, I should liken it to the play with which we amuse our children — This is the cow with the crumpled horn, which gored the dog, that worried the cat, that eat the rat, &c., ending in the house which Jack built." Nevertheless, evidence may with a jury carry greater weight, and be more persuasive, than the most fluent and polished address of an advocate. And, so far as evidence is an aid to an appeal to a jury, Gibbs had this advantage over Erskine, that, since the address of the latter, the jury had had before them the witnesses for the defense, whose testimony brought in a vast ac- cession of weight to the argument, that the design of Hardy and his associates was, not to depose and put to death the king, but, taking as their guide the plan of the Duke of Richmond for reform, was merely tq cause a reform in the House of Commons. Tliis argument stored with its accumulated weight Gibbs presented to, and kept before, the jury in a light so clear, that the strength of it could not escape their notice and assent. The ample passages which Gibbs read from the Duke's letter on reform, the presence of the Duke himself in court, a witness producing and avowing to the jury his own letter, and the supj^osed speech (a happy sup- position), which Giljbs, in his address to the jury, put into the mouth of the Duke, as an advocate for Hardy, — these circumstances could not fail to make evidence eloquent, and they probably contributed more than any thing else to cause the jury, sworn to give a true verdict according to the evidence, to 'give the verdict, which they did, of not guilty. Bishop Sanderson, in a sermon preached by him at the Assizes at Lincoln, in 1630, after noticing certain 262 OF ADVOCACY. impediments, that stand in tlie way of justice, goes on to say, — " Add hereunto the great advantage or dis- advantage, that may be given to a cause in the plead- ing, by the artificial insinuations of a powerful orator. That same neidih and Suadcn medulla^ as some of the old heathens * termed it, that winning and persuasive faculty, which dwelleth in the tongues of some men, whereby they are able, not only to w ork strongly upon the affections of men, but to arrest their judgments also, and to incline them whether way they please, is an ex- cellent endowment of nature, or rather (to speak more properly) an excellent gift of God. Which whosoever hath received is by so much the more bound to be truly thankful to him that gave it, and to do him the best service he can with it, by how much he is enabled thereby to gain more glory to God, and to do more good to human society than most of his brethren are. And the good blessing of God be upon the heads of all those,, be they few or many, that use their eloquence aright, and employ their talent in that kind for the ad- vancement of justice, the quelling of oppression, the repressing and discountenancing of insolency, and the encouraging and j)i'otecting of inuocency. But what shall I say then of those, be they many or few, that abuse the gracefulness of their elocution (good speak- ers, but to ill purposes), to enchant the ears of an easy magistrate Avith the charms of a fluent tongue, or to cast a mist before the eyes of a weak jury, as jugglers make sport with country people ; to make white seem black, or black seem white ; so setting a fair varnish upon a rotten post, and a smooth gloss upon a a^arse cloth ; as Protagoras sometimes boasted, that he could make a bad cause good, when he listed ? By which * See Cic. Brutus, 15, OF ADVOCACY. 263 means judgment is perverted, the Lands of violence and robbery strengthened, tbe edge of the sword of justice abated, great oftenders acquitted, gracious and virtuous men molested and injured. I know not what fitter reward to wish them for their pernicious elo- quence, as their best deserved fee, than to* remit them over to what David hath assigned them in Psalm cxx., — 'What reward shall be given or done unto thee, O thou false tongue ? Even mighty and sharp arrows, with hot burninoj coals.' " ^ord Bi'ougham speaking of a class of men, whom he calls " able," but who, it may be collected, are in his estimation " inferior " to Lord Mansfield, Lord Erskine, and Sir Samuel Romilly, and of which able, though in- ferior, class he says Sir Vicary Gibbs was a " perfect sample," gives the following general sketch of their professional character : " The ^professional character of the men, whom we are discussing, is generally pure and lofty ; the order to which they belong is sacred in their eyes ; its fame, its dignity, even to its etiquette, must all be kept unsullied ; and whatever may be their pre- judices and their habits, political or professional, how great soever their difference to power, how profound their veneration for the bench, how deep-rooted their attachment to existing institutions, how fierce their hostility to all innovations, how grave or how scornful their frown upon the multitude at large ; yet is their courage undaunted in defending whatever client may intrust his suit to their patronage, be he a rabble-leader or a treason-monger, a libeller or a blasphemer ; and in discharging toward him the high duties of their repre- sentative character, they so little regard either the re- sentment of the government or the anger of the court * Sanderson's Sermons, vol. 5. p. 273, ed. 1C81. 264 OF ADVOCACY. that tliey hardly are conscious of any effort in sacri- ficing every personal consideration to the performance of their rejiresentative, and, because it is representa- tive, their eminently important office."'"' Admitting that Sir V. Gibbs, and all the other " able," but " inferior," men, his contemporaries, " attained not unto the first three," Lord Mansfield, Lord Erskine, and Sir S. Romilly, and admitting that neither do the modern men of the same class attain unto their excellence, yet advocates of every rank have all in common this, the chief, duty of an advocate, — to see that justice be d8ne to his client ; and consistent with this duty is, his en- tire freedom from all desire that injustice befall his client's adversary. An unrighteous, vexatious, or un- gracious claim, or defense, may merit to be discounten- anced, and baffled, and, according to circumstances, scouted or laughed out of court. But before the claim or defense is proved to be of this, or the like, hateful nature, it is no part of an advocate's duty to make himself a possible instrument of injustice to the adverse side, by endeavoring to defeat it, not by evidence or fair argument, but hj perplexing, stultifying or ridicul- ing its honest witnesses, or by indulging in jests, rail- lery, or sarcasm, against the adverse suitor himself.f For the purpose of j)leading, an advocate lays aside for the time his own individuality, and takes on him a peculiar character, — a part j)ersonating his client; yet not entirely, for this might make him speak with a false tongue, but partially, and to the extent alone to see that his client have justice. So considered, an advo- * Historical Sketches of Statesmen, First Series, pp. 124, 127, 128, ed. 1839. And see Hor., De Ai-t. Poet. 367. t He who runs in a race may fairly run as fast as he can ; but he is not justified in tripping up his competitor, or pushing him down. — Cic. Off. iii. 10. OF ADVOCACY. 265 cate in his own person gains no lionor by pleading for the just, nor suffers dishonor by pleading for the unjust : he is neither exalted if his client be of " the honorable of the earth," nor debased if he be of the offscouring of it. And such is the nature and chance of forensic warfare, so much does it incline to opposition and con- trast, that the advocate, who is now pleading for the just, may on the very next trial plead for the unjust: he who has now closed his brief for a defendant, whose victory gives joy to a crowded court, may next repre- sent a defendant, whose defeat the same audience, with an opposite joy, exult in. An advocate, as the rej^resentative of his client and his organ of speech, can, so far as the law would per- mit his client to do, advance and maintain any religious, political, or other theory, tenet, or doctrine of his client, however unreasonable, absurd, or fanciful, it may be. And in doing this, if the advocate says what he himself does not think, what his own judgment does not ap- prove of, or perhaps condemns, he will, secretly at least, wish it to be understood at the time, that he is not uttering his own ojiinions, but only those of his client ; and, the cause being ended, he will be at full liberty to repudiate for himself personally any part, or the whole, of what he has said professionally only for his client ; and, in such a case, to object afterwards against the ad- vocate, that the language he used exhibits his own per- sonal principles, views, or sentiments, would be simply folly. This distinction between the professional and personal character of an advocate is draw by Cicero.* * Any one makes a great mistake who thinks that he finds in my foreust6 speeches my own deliberately-recorded opinions. For all speeches of that kind take their form and color from the character of the suits and times in which they are delivered. They must not be understood to ex- hibit the opinions of the advocates personally. For if causes could speak 18 266 OF ADVOCACY. To suppose that an advocate necessarily himself entertains all tlie opinions lie exj^resses for liis client would be about as reasonable as to im23ute to an author the morals of a character in his j^oem, novel, or play. Ovid, on the part of the authors, has strongly protested against such an imputation.* In concluding this chaj^ter, a word may be said on certain tendencies, which the constant exercise of the professional duties of an advocate is aj^t to encourage or occasion in him. This exercise of his duties is a species of education. And as the bringing up of a j>er- son may incline him to this or that particular opinion, or this or that particular study or pui^suit, so the educa- tion, which the advocate in the exercise of his duties receives, may encourage or occasion in him certa^in ten- dencies peculiar to his profession. Archbishop Whately having made the observations on the cross-examination of a witness, which have been transcribed in the last chapter, goes on to say, — " I will add one remark upon the danger incurred by the advo- cate — even if he be one who would scruple either will- fully to use sophistry to mislead a judge, or to perplex and browbeat an honest witness — of having his mind alienated from the investigation of truth. Bishop But- ler observes, and laments (preface to his sermons), that it is veiy common for men to have ' a curiosity to know what is said, but no curiosity to know what is t?'ue.'' Now, none can be (other points being equal) more in need of being put on his guard against this fault than he who is professionally occupied with a multitude of cases, in each of which he is to consider what may be for themselves, no one would employ an advocate ; but as it is, we are re- tained to say, not what we ourselves may think, but what the cause in. hand may inspire and dictate. — Cic. Pro Cluentio, 50. * Trist. Lib. ii. El. i. 353. OF ADVOCACY. 267 plausibly urged on botli sides ; wLile the question loliat ought to be the decision is out of his province as a pleader. I am supposing him not to be seeking to mis- lead by urging fallacious arguments ; but there will often be sound and valid arguments — real probabilities — on oj)posite sides. A judge, or any one whose busi- ness it is to ascertain truth, is to decide according to the preponderance of the reasons; but the pleader's business is merely to set forth as forcibly as possible those on his own side. And if he thinks that the habitual practice of this has no tendency to generate in him, morally, any indifference, or, intellectually, any incompetency, in respect to the ascertainment of truth, — if he consider himself quite safe from any such dan- ger, — I should then say that he is in very great dan- ger."* If it be true that the pleader's business is, merely to set forth as forcibly as possible the reasons on his own side, the habitual practice of this kind of advocacy may be followed by the danger just mentioned. It is very certain that in many cases, where a question of fact, as distinguished from law, is raised, an advocate has no other source of learning: the truth of the matter in dis- pute than his client's instructions, partial, it may be as- sumed, to his own side. And in a case of this sort it is not in the power of the advocate before the trial to view the circumstances on both sides, and to search among them for the truth. But even on a question of fact, his power may not always be so limited. And on a cpiestion of law, a joleader cannot set forth as forcibly as possible the reasons on his own side, without first havino: considered the reasons on the other side. If his * Bacon's Essays, with Annotations by Archbp. Whately, p, 496, ed. 1856. 268 OF ADVOCACY. adversary's reason be strong, liis own argument will not be as forcible as possible, unless it reduces, or at least attempts to reduce, the strength of liis opponent's ; and if liis adversary's reasons be weak, liis own argument will not be as forcible as possible, unless lie makes Ms opponent's weakness a part of liis own own strength. If this be so, it follows tliat it is the duty of an advocate to consider, on a question of law, the reasons on both sides of the case ; and in the process of this considera- tion it may easily hapj^en, either that the naturally in- quiring mind of the pleader will lead him to look for the truth, or that, without such inquiring mind, the truth will flash upon him, although he make no search for it. If this view of the subject be correct, a conse- quence of it appears to be, that, on a question of law, it is not the pleader's business, merely to set forth as forcibly as possible the reasons on his own side ; but that his duty is, to search into the reasons on both sides, and, having done this, then to set forth as forcibly as possible those on his own side. It may further be remarked, that an advocate is in less dano-er of havino- his mind " alienated from the in- o CD vestigation of truth" from the circumstance, that before a person commences a suit, in which the question will be one of law, he usually, by laying a case before coun- sel, consults him on the prospect of success ; and a con- sultation of this kind commonly j^recedes the defense of a suit. So that in this way, whether the suit be begun, or defended, or not, the advocate has both an opjDortunity, and an obligation, to investigate truth. For to give an opinion, that, so far as circumstances will permit, may be a safe guide to the plaintiff or de- fendant seekino^ advice, the advocate is oblio^ed to in- vestigate the authorities on both sides, and by weighing OF ADVOCACY. 269 tliem to learn what, in liis judgment, is the result, or in other words the truth."^ * It appears that Lord Kenyon and Lord Eldon, when at the bar, dif- fered very much in the attention they paid to cases : Mr. Kenyon profess- edly bestowed little labor upon them ; while Mr. Scott felt they cast upon him a responsibility that demanded much care and trouble in giving his opinion. This is shown in the following extract from Lord Eldon's Anec- dote Book: — "When I got into considerable business at the Bar, I was much resorted to by professional persons, laying cases before me for my opinions. Lord Kenyon, when at the Bar, made, one year (of which he showed me evidence), by opinions only, about three thousand pounds — at that time, according to the rate of fees given to counsel, a very large sum: It was, however, his rule to consider himself as only required to read the case, as it was stated to liirfi, and to give such opinion as his general knowledge enabled him to give upon reading it, without looking for fur- ther information as to matter of law, by looking into books. When he afterwards became a Judge in Equity, the rule by which he governed him- self, as to the facts of any case, was to consider himself as not bound to seek for further information, as to those facts, than as the diligence of counsel had stated them ; and his judgment was usually given, without assisting himself by more than liis general knowledge of law enabled him to aid himself, at the conclusion of the counsel's reply. It is due to the very great law-learning of Mr. Kenyon, afterwards Lord Kenyon, to record, that no lawyer, in my days, could, in this way of proceeding, do so much justice to parties consulting him, or before him for judgment, as he could. My business as to giving opinions was of very short duration. I could not so far trust my knowledge of law, as to believe that I could not confirm it, or improve it, by looking into books and authorities after I had read the stated case. This led necessarily to delay, and sometimes to a correction of that opinion which I at first entertained, and which the solicitor con- sulting me wished to obtain perhaps. He then ceased, as to such matters, to be a client of mine. But this sort of employment forsook me in a greater degree, because, after my experience had taught me that cases upon which opinions had been given (and upon the encouragement contained in those opinions, suits had l.)een instituted) difi'ered materially and essentially in circumstances from what were jjroved to be the real cases, when the causes in such suits were heard, and that experience convinced me that a great many attorneys, who had stated cases, could not but know, that those were material and essential circumstances, which, being within their knowledge ought to have been, but which were not, stated in the cases when laid before counsel, I got into a habit prejudicial to myself, which I know in some instances to have been very useful to others, of considering the pro- bability or improbability of the correctness and sufiiciency of the state- ment in cases laid before me ; stating in my opinions the vast difference it 270 OF ADVOCACY. A tendency to suspend his judgment on hearing one side only of a case can scarcely fail to be a result of an advocate's practice. On any question, in any transaction of life, in which there may be opj)osite sides, he, having heard one side only, is sure to inquire what can be said on the other : it instantly occurs to him to say, audi alteram partem. This fruit of his study and j)ractice is truly valuable. A hasty conclu- sion on hearing one side only is, in every-day life, fre- quently an occasion of much misconception of things really said or done, of coolness or heat between friends, of injurious acts, and even of irremediable injustice. would make in the judgment if a suit were instituted, if facts were either suppressed or matters stated which were not facts, or if facts, so far as the statement went, were not the whole truth of the case ; and then pointing out in the ojjinion what I thought possible, or conjectured, to be matters, which might form part of the case, though not at all stated, and circum- stances which might qualify the effect of the facts, which might be only partially stated ; leaving it to the party consulting me to make any repre- sentation as to such things as he might think proper ; or to act upon an opinion which had all such qualifications in the body of it. Among solici- tors and attorneys there were many very worthy men ; there were others certainly not such ; as there are in all other classes of men, good and bad. One of the worthiest I have known said, they did not want opinions that had so many ' Lfs ' in them ; that such would not do for them ; that they si^oilt business ; and certainly they, aided by a disinclination which I had to be engaged in a branch of the profession of so much responsibility, and with reference to which I thought so much care and trouble absolutely necessai-y, entirely spoilt my opinion business." — Xi/e of Lord Eldon^ hy Twiss, vol. i. p. 136, ed. 1844. CHAPTER XIII. OP CONCLUSION FKOM FACTS. The purpose of an inquiry into facts before a jury- is, to draw a conclusion from them, — an answer to the particular question they raise. In the majority of cases the evidence of witnesses consists of ordinary matters of fact, common things which i^ersons have said or done, which the witnesses have heard or seen, and which a jury have little or no trouble in makiuo: themselves masters of But other cases present very considerable difficulties ; cases, for example, into which there enter the principles and practice of a particular science or art, and the under- standing of which by the jury is indispensable to a right verdict. Civil cases of this kind are causes relat- ing to manufactures and i:>atents. And, on criminal trials, frequently much of the evidence, and the most important part of it, consists of professional testimony of physicians, surgeons, and chemists. And in both the civil and criminal cases, a great part of the evidence is necessarily, and, if not necessarily, is often naturally, and as most convenient to the witnesses, given by them in scientific and technical language. It may sometimes happen that part of the jury bring to the trial a knowledge, sufficient for their pur- pose, of the science or art introduced into the evidence. But as a jury are men taken from the public, without any regard to the kind of evidence, the scientific or technical testimony, they will hear, it generally perhaps haj^pens that all the jury have during the trial to be 272 OF C02?CLrSI0N FROM FACTS. taught by the witnesses, in their evidence, so much scientific and technical knowledge as the jury require to arrive at a i3roper verdict in the case. The positive, uncontradicted, opinion of a witness learned in a particular science, art, or other branch of knowledge, the jury may, without hesitation, rely on, and make their own, for the j)urpose of their verdict ; and this, although at the time they do not understand, and have not the means of inquiring into, the princi^^les or grounds of the opinion they hear.* This faith in, and adoption of, other men's opinion is no more than is found in other aftairs and actions of our lives. On this point we may take instruction from Locke and Hooker. " A man," says Locke, " who never took the pains to observe the demonstration, hearing a mathematician, a man of credit, affirm the three angles of a triangle to be equal to two right ones, assents to it, i. e., receives it for true. In which case the foundation of his assent is, the probability of the thing, the proof being such as for the most part carries truth with it ; the man, on whose testimony he receives it, not being wont to affirm any thing contrary to, or besides, his knowledge, es- pecially in matters of this kind." ^ " If," observes Hooker, " it be admitted, that, in matter of fact, there is some credit to be given to the testimony of man, but not in matter of opinion and judgment, we see the contrary both acknowledged, and universally practiced also, throughout the world. The sentences of wise and expert men were never but highly esteemed. Let the title of a man's • rio-ht be called in question, are we not bold to rely and build upon the judgment of such as are famous for their skill in the laws of this land ? In matter of state, the weight * Locke on Human Understanding, book vi. cli. xv. OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 273 many times of some one man's authority is thought reason sufficient even to sway over whole nations. And this is not only with the simj^le sort ; but the learneder and wiser we are, the more such arguments in such cases prevail with us. The reason why the simpler sort are moved with authority is, the conscience of their own ignorance ; whereby it cometh to pass, that having learned men in admiration, they rather fear to dislike them than know wherefore they should allow and fol- low their judgments. Contrariwise with them that are skillful, authority is much more strong and forcible ; because they only are able to discern how just cause there is why to some men's authorit}^ so much should be attributed. For which cause the name of Hippo- crates, no doubt, was more effectual to persuade even such men as Galen himself than to move a silly em- piric ; so that the very selfsame argument in this kind, which doth but induce the vulgar sort to like, may con- strain the wiser to yield. And therefore not orators only with the people, but even the very profoundest disputers in all faculties, have thereby often with the best learned prevailed most." * In preparing for their verdict on the facts detailed in evidence, a main object of a jury will be to set these facts in such an order and light as will give them the best view of them, and so facilitate their decision upon them. As every thing depends on their belief of the witnesses, they w^ill probably begin by considering the credit due to them, giving to every one the credit which they think he is entitled to, and refusing to give any credit to others whom they find to be unworthy of belief. Another step will be to weigh directly con- tradictory testimonies, keeping the one which they * Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, book ii. s. 7. 274 OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. think preponderates, and discarding the other. Oppos- ing testimonies, which admit of reconciliation, they will reconcile accordingly. By a sifting process they -^vill dismiss from their minds all the immaterial facts. In the case of two or more defendants affected by dif- ferent evidence, the jury will make the necessary sej)a- ration and adjustment of the evidence. By these and the like means, according to the circumstances of each case, the jury will have drawn into a comj^aratively small compass all the facts they need now at all look at. In this state of things the ivitnesses' parts are over; they have left the scene; and the facts which the jury have now to attend to stand by their own strength ; such as they are, there they are ; and the jury have not now to consider how they came by them. These facts ranged in their proper places, as time and other incidents require, form a story. Often there is direct evidence of every part of the story ; to com- plete the tale there is not wanting direct evidence of any fact. In other cases, the facts proved by direct evidence form an incomplete story ; the chain, of facts composing it is imperfect ; to complete the chain there is wanting evidence of some link in it. In a case of this sort, the missing fact can sometimes be supplied by the facts proved by the direct evidence ; from these facts the one missing can be inferred. The circumstances proved by the direct evidence sujoply the inference ; they are thus themselves evidence, although not direct, of the fact wanting ; and they, united with the inference, consti- tute what is, and is called, circumstantial evidence. To draw the inference is the province of the jury. When from acts j^roved by direct evidence against a prisoner a jury infer his intention in doing them, the OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 275 direct evidence, together with the inference, from cir- cumstantial evidence against him. Intention, in the sense of design, j^urpose, with which an act is done, is a common subject of inquiry by a jury. Intention is a mental fact ; it exists in the mind of the man who conceives it.^ It is in his jDower to conceal it from all other men. If he does nothino; by word nor act to disclose it, no one else can penetrate to it, no other person need imagine its existence. But the man himself, in whose mind it exists, can and often does disclose it to others purposely and exj^ressly by his words, oral or in writing. And besides, through some act of his, undesignedly on his part, his intention may be revealed. If from his intention as their source he does certain acts, from them other persons may, con- trary to the man's will and expectation, infer the in- tention from which his acts proceeded. The following questions of intention have been left to a jury : — 1. The intention of a person who hired a horse, as *he said, to go to a particular place, but who on the same day sold the horse ; — whether he meant, at the time of the hiring, to take such journey, but was afterwards temj^ted to sell the horse ? or whether, at the time of the hiring, he had no intention to take the journey, but meant to sell the horse ?f 2. The Riot Act, 1 George I., c. 5, provides, that if any persons unlawfully and riotously assembled shall unlawfully demolish or pull down, or begin to demolish or i^ull down, any dwellin'g-house, then the persons in- jured shall be entitled to damages, to be recovered as in the Act mentioned. In an action on this statute it appeared at the trial, that, during a time of scarcity, * See ante page 9, note. t Pear's Case, 1 Leacb, 253. Charlewood's Case, ih. 456. 276 OF CONCLUSION FROM* FACTS. upwards of a hundred persons, assembled together, came to the house of the plaintiff, who was a baker, and asked if he had any flour ; and being answered in the affirmative, they said they would have it at 2s. a stone (it being then worth about 5.S.). The plaintiff said he could not afford it at that price ; but they in- sisted on having it ; and he, not able to resist, began to measure it out in small quantities. The rioters then began to break the windows of the bakehouse, and the dwelling-house adjoining, and broke the glass of three windows, and also the shutters. They took about ten stone out of the bakehouse, which was sold at the price named by themselves. The judge told the jury, if they were satisfied that the mob, who broke the glasses of the windows, and the shutters, meant to stop there and proceed no further, it might be too much to say that it was a beginning to demolish, cfec. within the statute ; but if they thought that the mob came with an intention to proceed to farther acts of demolition, if they could not otherwise effect their purpose, then it was a beofinnino; to demolish, bid counsel referring to it. See Cowen and Hill and Edwards' notes to Phil. Ev. edit. 1868, p. 590 [714]. A story is reported in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1763, said to be on the authority of Justice Dyer, of a trial for murder, in which the circumstances pointed strongly to the guilt of the prisoner, and eleven jurymen were for conviction, but the twelfth refusing to concur the jury were dismissed, and ultimately the prisoner discharged. Subsequently the dissenting juryman confessed to Justice Dyer that he himself was the murderer. Such stories are not entitled to any credence ; it frequently happens, in cases which occasion great excitement (as in the case of Dr. Burdell), that persons wholly imconnected with the offense surrender themselves as the murderers ; in the case of Dr. Burdell it actually occurred that a man, bearing the same name as one of the jurymen on the trial of the alleged murderer, claimed that he was on the jury, and was himself the murderer. Snch confessions find a parallel in the extraordinary confessions of. persons charged with witchcraft. Such confessions are attempted to be accounted for in Mr. Upham's book on Salem Witchcraft. 280 OF CONCLUSION FEOM FACTS. it may happen that the conclusion which the jury come to upon it is not grounded on truth ; for not only may honest witnesses be themselves deceived, and give posi- tive testimony of that which is not true ; but dishonest witnesses may perjure themselves in their direct testi- mony. The state of society in the reign of Henry VI. must have been very bad, when Fortescue could at that time thus WTite of false witnesses ; — he is speaking of the Trial by Witnesses (without a jury), according to the manner of the Civil Law, and says, — " By the course of Civil Law, the party, who, upon the trial, holds the affirmative side of the question is to produce his witnesses whom he is at liberty to name at his pleasure. On the other hand, a negative is incapable of being proved ; I mean directly, though indirectly it is otherwise. Now, he may well be thought a person of an incon- siderable interest, and of less application, who, from the gross of mankind and all his acquaintance, cannot find out two, so devoid of conscience and all faith, who, through fear, inclination, aifection, or for a bribe, will not be ready to gainsay the truth. So that the party, to make good his cause, is at his liberty to produce two of such a stamp ; and if the other 23arty had ever so much mind to object against them or their evidence, it will not always happen that they are or can be known by the party defendant in the cause, in order to call in question their life and conversation, that, as persons of a profligate character, they might be cross-examined; upon which account their evidence might be set aside : and seeing their evidence is in the affirmative, it is not so capable of being overthrown by circumstance, or any other indirect j^roofs."* The last century furnishes an instance of a verdict * Fortescue, De Laudibus Leg. Aiigl., cli. xsi. OF COKCLUSIOIf FROM FACTS. 281 founded on direct testimony, by wliicli tlie mtnesses per- jured themselves, and by their false evidence took away the life of an innocent man. This is the well-known case of Macdaniel, Berry, and Jones, tried at the Old Bailey in January, 1754. In this case Joshua Kidden was tried for robbing Mary Jones on the highway. Mary Jones, the prosecutrix, swore very positively to the person of the prisoner, and to the circumstances of the robbery, in which she was confirmed by Berry. Kidden, on the evidence of these two witnesses, was convicted, and executed. Afterwards the reward of <£1:0, given by the Stat. 4 cfe 5 W. ct M., c. 8, to those who should convict a highway robber, was divided among the prosecutrix Mary Jones, John Berry, Stephen Macdaniel and Thomas Cooj)er. The history of the pros- ecution lay concealed until August, 1754, when, another man being taken up on suspicion of being a thief, the charo'e a2:ainst Kidden was discovered to have been a conspiracy and contrivance to obtain the reward.* * Leach, 52. [A train of cars was thrown from the track, killing the engineer William L. Dodge. The accident was occasioned by some person having placed stones upon the track. John Tallmadge, a well-to-do farmer, was suspected of being the guilty person ; the circumstances against him were, that the railroad ran through his farm, several of his cattle had been killed by passing trains, and he had been heard to say, he " Hoiked to God the cars would run off," and he was reputed to be of a most vindictive dispo- sition. The railroad company oflered a reward for the discoveiy of the oflendcr. Two men, natives of Ireland, came forward and deposed to hav- ing seen Tallmadge place the stones upon the track. Tallmadge was charged with the murder of Dodge, and, upon the evidence of these two men, a true bill was found, and Tallmadge was put upon his trial at Ball- ston Spa, New York, in December, 1849. Upon the trial it was satisfac- torily shown, that at the time of the accident the two witnesses were in Ireland. Tallmadge was acquitted, and the witnesses detained to answer for their perjury, committed, no doubt, to obtain the reward offered by the railway company. In the winter of 1856, a youth named Charles E. Sage, aged about 19, was missed from his home in Cromwell, near Middletown, Connecticut. Suspicion fell upon a man named Patrick Nugent of having murdered the 19 282 OF co:s^CLUSiON from facts. AVlien a jury convict on direct evidence given by perjured persons, they are deceived by an artfully fabri- cated story. This power of invention may be found in persons who would abhor to apply it for any purpose of injury to, or tending to be hurtful to, others. "VYe have the authority of Lord Clarendon that one of the most skillfol fabricators of a false. tale of things said and done by others was Dr. AYilliams, who was Keeper of the Great Seal in the time of James L, and Archbishop of York in the reign of Charles I. Of him Lord Clar- endon says, — " He had a faculty of making relations of things done in his own presence, and discourses made to himself, or in his own hearing, with all the circum- stances of answers and replies, and upon arguments of great moment ; all which, upon examination, were still found to have nothing in them that was real, but to be the pure effect of his own invention." And the same historian relates of him, that after meeting and confer- ence between the Archbishop and some of his friends on a matter of importance to the Archbishop, he " re- peated the several and distinct discourse every man had lad, and put Ms body under tlie ice in the Connecticut river. Nugent was arrested, but discharged for want of evidence to connect hiili with the lad's disappearance. Some months after, a headless corpse was found in the river. From marks on the body, and from the clothing, this was supposed to be the body of Sage ; there was also found the lining of an overcoat, answering the description of that worn by him just previous to his being lost. Again an interval, and a man named John A. Benson, a sailor, came to Cromwell, and accused ' Nugent of having murdered Sage. Benson stated he saw the murder committed, and assisted in putting away the remains ; he accurately described the appearance, dress, etc., of Sage, and further stated that he came to Cromwell expressly to divulge his knowledge concerning the mur- der, as it preyed upon his mind. Xugent persistently denied his guilt, but exhibited signs of fear, which were construed as evidence of his guilt. A true bill for murder was found against Nugent, and his trial appointed to take place in December, 1857, at Hadden, Connecticut. In the mean time, Sage was discovered to be alive and living at Ithaca, New York. No mo- tive was apparent for the conduct of Benson.] OF COXCLUSIOX FROM FACTS. 283 made ; in wbicli lie was so punctual, that be applied those phrases and expressions, and manner of speech^ to the several men, which they were all taken ngtice of frequently to use ; as many men have some peculiar w^ords in discourse, which they are most delighted with, or by custom most addicted to." Lord Clarendon adds, " There was not indeed the least shadow of truth in the whole relation, except that there Avas such a meeting and conference."'^' When on a trial evidence is given by two witnesses, each of whom directly and entirely contradicts the other, the verdict sometimes depends wholly on the preponderance, which, on a balance of their credit, the jury find to be in the credit of one of them; not credit founded on their characters alone, but on all the cir- cumstances in evidence. In these cases, the only ques- tion for the jury is, whether they believe A. or B. ; a question that often causes them much perplexity. The consideration of preponderance may arise where nei- ther of the two witnesses is a party,. nor the wife of a party, to the cause ; or where one of the witnesses is a party, or the wife of a party, to the cause ; and the other a witness for the opposite party : or where the two witnesses are themselves the opposed parties in the cause : or where one of the witnesses is the wife of the one party, and the other is the wife of the other pai'ty. In a case of contradiction of this nature, if the jury on the evidence believe one or both of the witnesses to be dishonest, this belief alone may not remove their difficulty ; it may still leave them much trouble to de- cide, to whose testimony they should give the greater weight.* For supposing one only of the witnesses to be believed to be dishonest, his dishonesty may not so far * Clarendon's Hist, of the Rebellion, vol. i. part iv. p. 345, ed. 1707. 284 or CONCLUSION from facts. infect and clamao-e his whole evidence, as to make it vail before the weak evidence of the other, although honest, witness. And if both the witnesses are believed to be dishonest, this equality of character being settled, there will still remain the question, of the two, whose evi- dence is more to be trusted. If the jury believe both the witnesses to be honest, and equally so, this necessarily contracts their inquiry, and saves them much trouble, for dishonesty is then out of the question. And in any case, wdiether the wit- nesses be honest or dishonest, so soon as the question of credit founded on character is settled, the jury, for the purpose of determining whether, of the two wit- nesses, they believe A. or B., will have to turn to other considerations authorized by the evidence ; as, for in- stance, according to probability on the circumstances, whether this or that witness' original perception of things, he says he saw or heard, was perfect or defec- tive ; whether the impression they made on him was strong or weak ; whether his remembrance of them is to be depended on. In these cases, if, after every con- sideration, the matter stands in effect simply thus : " The one saith, This is my son that liveth, and thy son is the dead : and the other saith, Nay ; but thy son is the dead, and my son is the living ;"* it is plain the jury Avill require the wisdom of Solomon to decide be- tween two such direct and entire contradictions. The difficulty a jury may sometimes have in com- ing to a right conclusion on evidence is thus forcibly stated by Bishoj) Sanderson, in a sermon preached by him at the Assizes, at Lincoln, in 1630: "And as he [the magistrate] may be ignorant in matter of fact, for want of due information ; so may he secondly be doubt- * 1 Kings, iii. 23. OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 285 ful in point of right, for want of clear and full evidence. "Whereof also there may be divers reasons ; and among the rest these which I shall now propose : First, the great diversity, yea, sometimes flat repugnancy and con- trariety, that is between the informations on the one side, and on the other. For men are extremely 23artial, and will not tell their own tales with such sincerity and indifferency as they ought ; but as much in favor of themselves, and to the prejudice of their adversaries, as they can devise to do with any show of probability. We used to say, one tale is good till another be told : and the j^roverb is true, in that sense wherein it was first meant, and is commonly understood. Solomon hath a proverb much to the same purpose, — ' He that is first in his own tale seemeth righteous ; but then his neisfhbor cometh and searcheth him out.' The meauinc: is plain, one tale is good ; that is, Avhether it be so or not, it seemeth so at the first hearing. But if we will speak of things, not after the appearance, but according to truth, and pronounce of them as they are, and not as they seem ; may we not much rather invert the proverb, and say : one tale cannot be good, till the other be told ? That is, whether it be good or not, the judge may not give credit to either, till he hath heard both. Nay, may we not many times further say, when both tales are told, that neither is good ? Because there is most- what in every man's tale a mixture of some falsehoods with some truths ; whereby it may so happen sometimes, that he which hath in truth the more equity on his side, by the mingling in some easily discoverable false- hoods in telling his tale, may render his cause the more suspicious to him that heareth it, to think the whole tale naught ; and he that hath indeed, and upon the whole matter, the worst cause, may yet, by the weaving in some evident truths, or pregnant probabilities, in the 28G OF CONCLUSION FEOM FACTS. telling of Lis tale, gain sucli credit witli liim that hear- eth it, that he will be very inclinable to believe the whole tale to be good. Or, howsoever, they may be both so equally false, or at least both so equally doubt- . ful, as no one that heareth them can well tell whether of both to give credit to. It was so in the famous case of the two inmate harlots, whereof King Solomon had the hearing. The living child is mine, the dead one thine, saith the one ; no, saith the other, the dead child is thine, and the living mine. Here were presumptions on both sides (for why should any Avoman challenge another woman's child ?) ; but proofs on neither (for being there were none in the house but they two, neither of them could produce any witnesses). The case hung thus even : no more evidence on the one side than on the other ; no less confidence on the one side than on the other. Solomon, indeed, by that wisdom wherewith God had endowed him in a transcendent measure, found out a means whereby to turn the scales, to untie that hard knot, and to discover the hidden truth. But what could a judge, or a jury, of no more than ordinary wis- dom, then have been able to have said or done in such a case ; but even to have left it as they found it ? And truly for any thing I know, ignorance must have been their best excuse."* By the English law a jury upon a trial consists of twelve'men, and the whole twelve are required to be of one mind, to join unanimously in their verdict. Where there is much latitude of circumstance and reasoning, the nature of mankind is such, that men differ very materially in the opinions they form on a particular subject, be it religion, politics, or a branch of science or art. But the circumstances of a trial, the question * Bishoii Sanderson's Sermons, vol. i. p. 271, ed. 1681. OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 287 they raise, and tlie reasoning required to arrive at a verdict, are of a limited range ; and yet on a question so circumscribed, it is sometimes found tlie jury difter in tlieir oj^inions upon it, and from this want of unani- mity are unable to return a verdict. Supposing each of the twelve men, relatively to the rest, to possess equal intellectual powers, and equal qualifications of other kinds, required for the discharge of their duty, it may be expected that they will easily agree in their conclusion upon the evidence. But when, a jury, as often is the case, are selected from a large number of men, and, as regards the persons chosen, are brought together without distinction of mental powers or acquirements, without consideration of age, their professions, their trades, their habits, and manner of life, it is not to be wondered at, and is rather to be ex- pected, that a difference of opinion among them should sometimes be found. Each is exactly the same man in court as he Avas out of it : Avhatever powers of mind, whatever habit of reasoning, whatever notions, what- ever love of his own opinion, and obstinacy in ad- hering to it, " stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,"* — in a word, whatever good or ill quality he pos- sessed out of court, this he brings with him into it. Among the jury may be men, who, some too quick, and others too slow, in arriving at a decision ujion any subject, are thus described by Archbishoj) AVhately : " It is worth remarking, that many persons are of such a disposition, as to be nearly iucaj^able of remaining in doubt on any point, that is not wliolly uninteresting to them. They speedily make up their minds on each question, and come to some conclusion, whether there * Absalom and Ahithophel. 288 OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. are any goods grounds for it, or not. And judging, as men are apt to do in all matters, of others from them- selves, tliey usually discredit the most solemn assurances of any one Avho professes to be in a state of doubt on some question ; taking it for granted that, if you do not adopt their oj)inion, you must be of the opposite. Others, again, there are, who are capable of remaining in doubt, as long as the reasons on each side seem ex- actly halanced y but not otherwise. Such a person, as soon as he perceives any, the smallest, preponderance of probability on one side of a question, can no more re- frain from deciding immediately, and with full convic- tion, on that side, than he could continue to stand, after having lost his equilibrium, in a slanting position, like the famous tower at Pisa. And he Avill, accordingly, be disposed to consider an acknowledgment, that there are somewhat the stronger reasons on one side, as equivalent to a confident decision The infirmities above mentioned are those of ordinary minds. A smaller number of persons, among whom, however, are to be found a larger proportion of the intelligent, are prone to the opposite extreme ; that of not deciding, as long as there are reasons to be found on both sides, even though there may be a clear and strong preponderance on the one, and even though the case may be such as .to call for a practical decision. As the one description of men rush hastily to a conclusion, and trouble them- selves little about premises, so the other carefully ex- amine premises, and care too little for conclusions. The one decide without inquiring, the other inquire without deciding."* Of the jury assembled it will always be found, that * Bacon's Essays, vdfh Annotations by Archb. Wbately, p. 238, ed. 1856. OF COKCLUSION FROM FACTS. 289 one man liears better than another, has a quicker ap- prehension of what a witness says, understands it more readily, has a better memory, is less subject to absence of mind, keeps his mind more attentive to what is going on, wandering neither from habit, nor from any accidental noise or other chance incident in court. The superiority of one man implies the inferior- ity of another in these respects. And from this differ- ence between them, it may well be expected, and in- deed it can scarcely be otherwise, that the two men, when they leave the jury-box to consider their verdict, will carry with them some facts, which they share in common, and others in which one of them does not participate with the other. Indeed if the twelve men could, so soon as they enter the room, to which they retire, throw down upon the table to ocular inspection, each man his own store of facts, brought with him from the court, it is probable that the contributions of no two men would be seen to be exactly alike. But supposing the superiority and inferiority above noticed not to exist, but all the twelve men, in each of the respects adverted to, to stand on a perfect equality ; in this case, they will all equally hear, understand, and remember the facts given in evidence, and yet they may differ in the conclusion they come to uj^on them. Their disao-reement then will not be on the facts, on what is proved to have been seen and heard, objects of the witnesses' eyes and ears ; for these matters the jury will all admit and agree in ; but their difference may be on some mental abstraction, the mind's infer- ence from the facts ; different men may draw different inferences from them. And here will come into 2:>lay each man's peculiar force and turn of mind, his pecu- liar notions and convictions he entertains on this or that particular subject, and which have been generated, 290 OF CONCLUSION FEOM FACTS. it may be, by his knowledge or ignorance, liis great or little experience, by Lis just or defective reasoning, or even by his fancy or ca2:)rice ; in a word, there will here come into play, the very same force and turn of mind, notions and convictions, which he possessed before he entered the court, and which accompanied him into it. From what is proved to have been seen or heard, the mental abstraction or inference may be, — a prom- ise, or intention, or negligence. From the proofs one man may infer a j)articular promise ; as a promise to do certain work, to pay a debt, to marry a particular per- son ; or may infer a particular intention ; as an. inten- tion to commit a robbery. And, in either case, another man may fail to draw the same inference. Negligence is separable into kinds, and the kind is determined by the subject-matter of it. Many persons have in their minds a loose, undefined, notion of negligence ; and this some, without consideration, are prepared to ap- ply to any subject ; but it is clear that some persons are wholly unqualified to judge of negligence in par- ticular instances ; as for example, in a question of neg- ligence, imputable to one or other of the drivers of two carriages, which come into collision ; or a question of negligence charged upon the steersmen of two vessels, driven one against the other. In either case, a loose, undefined notion of negligence will not suffice to cast the blame of it on this man or on that. To judge of the driver's imputed negligence, a person must have a certain knowledge of the art and skill required in driving, the duties of the driver, and his incidental difficulties. And the like may be said of negligence imputed to a steersman of a vessel. So that- in these particular instances of negligence, it may very well happen, that a jury may differ in their opinions, some being better cjualified than the rest to come to a right OF COXCLUSIOX FROM FACTS. 291 conclusion upon it. The principle of tliis diversity of opinion, namely, the different qualifications of the men to judge of the matter, is applicable, if not to all, at least to all the usual questions which come before a jury. In a case of circumstantial evidence, where guilt may, or may not, be inferred from the direct evidence given, some of the jury may think the evidence will justify them in drawing the inference, and others of them may think it will not. The required unanimity of a jury is not an unfre- quent subject of surprise and censure. A distinguished writer, to whom the requisition seems singular, offers some reasons, on which he thinks it is founded. He thus speaks of it : — " The unanimity of the twelve jurors in their verdict must be admitted to be a very sino-ular institution. It should seem that the reason for requiring this, at least in criminal prosecutions, arose from compassion to the prisoner ; against whom, if the offense was not proved beyond all possibility of doubt in the most scrupulous juror, it was thought to be errino; on the merciful side that this sino-le veto should acquit him. Another reason for this unanimity might possibly have arisen from attaints being fre- quently brought in ancient times against juries, to which punishment every juror was liable ; as each in- dividual, therefore, might be subject to a conviction in such a i^rosecution, it might be reasonable that every one should have a power of dissenting, and not be concluded by the oi)inion of others. The first of these reasons may account for the necessary unanimity in criminal suits, and the latter in those of a civil nature, in Avhich cases only the prosecution of attaint took place. Another cause for the unanimity of a jury might possibly arise, from their being unwilling that 292 OF coxcLusio:^ fkom facts. individuals miglit he obnoxious to the Crown, or per- haps parties, if the opinion of each was separately known. A\Tien the verdict was unanimous, ' Defendit numerus,junctceque innhone ii^licdanges^ " "^ A late eminent Scotch lawyer, who believed it to be absurd to require unanimity in a jury, gives the fol- lowing account of the introduction of the Jury Court into Scotland : — " One great outcry against this court at first was excited by our being required to adopt the English unanimity of juries. We had been accustomed to it far above a century in the Exchequer, which was an English courL But its sittings were solely in Edinburgh, and its verdicts were of. a penal nature; so that the country at large knew little about its pro- ceedings, and it'had not to deal with the complexity of civil competitions. It therefore got on without much j^ractical obstruction. But when it was proposed to carry the j^rincij^le into all proofs, and all over the land, hosts of fiery objectors started up, who on grounds logical, political, metaphysical and religious, denounced the scheme as justifying rebellion at the least. The religious objection, which resolved into the perjury (as it was called) of the minority, sacrificing its conscience to the conscience of the majority, was the one that made the deepest impression on the Scotch mind. Meadowbank wrote a good pamj^hlet explanatory of the true working of the principle of unanimity, which ojDerates (as he said) by producing discussion and con- cession among jurors, and thus makes a verdict by even compulsory unanimity a truer extract of the average sense of the whole of them, than if all reasoning had been superseded by a vote. There is some ingenuity in this, which is all that can be said in defense of the * Barrington on the Statutes, p. 20. 5th. ed. OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 293 venerable English habit. But if it was sound, it is odd that of all the tribes of mankind the habit has been tolerated in Ensfland alone. I believe it to be ab- surd ; and that, whether a bare majority ought to be allowed to decide or not, always requiring unanimity is nonsense. Exi^erience has not in the least diminished our Scotch aversion to it." ^ If we do not take exj^erience for our guide, it may indeed be thought, that to require one mind in a jury must be a source of constant difficulty. But after the experience of some centuries, this is by no means found to be the case ; and of the multitude of causes every year decided, the numljer, in which the jury are unable to agree, is extremely small, compared with the number in which they are unanimous. The reason of this may be, that sometimes each juryman at first takes essen- tially the same view of the case that his fellows do ; and that at other times, when among them there are differ- ences in their impressions and inferences, these differ- ences are combated and overcome by good sense, good temper, and free discussion, a discussion in which they mutually give and take corrections of their views, they not disdaining to defer to the opinions of their fellows, a deference lawful, and which they may the less hesi- tate to yield, since the jurymen , to whom they defer, form and express those very opinions upon their oaths. Frequently a jury are advised to look at the ques- tion before them, as " sensible men," as " men of com- mon sense." In these cases it is assumed, and rightly so, that the jury are sensible men, men of common sense ; for of such persons a jury is, beyond all doubt, very generally composed. And yet there may be ex- ceptions, if, as Southey testifies, common sense is rare ; * Cockburn's Memorials of his Time, p. 300, ed. 1856. 294 OF COXCLUSION FEOM FACTS. for lie speaks of it, as " that best and rarest of all senses, called Common Sense." ^ And it certainly sometimes happens, that a jury give a verdict startling to sober ordinary minds, one that takes the auditory by surj^rise ; a verdict returned to the great astonish- ment of all present. In these cases, if the verdict be right, it is clear the jury are the sensible men, they have more common sense than their audience, although thirty, forty, or fifty -fold more numerous. And if the verdict be wrong, it may be a comfort to the jury, among themselves, in their relation the one to the other, to feel that they have erred in company ; and, in their relation to the j^ublic, it may be a consolation to them to know, that if on a point of fact they have made a blunder, a court in Westminster Hall has occasionally on a point of latu given a judgment, which another court in the same Hall has pronounced to be, in one instance, " a shocking decision ; " f in another, an " extraordinary " case ; % and in a third, a case that " ou2;ht not to have been decided as it was." § Sometimes a jury are exhorted to judge of a case, as men havins; a knowledo-e of the world. What is it to have a knowledo;e of the world ? What is the world ? One of Dr. Johnson's definitions of world is, " Pub- lic life ; the Public." And, according to Southey, " There is the Fashionable Public, and the Religious Public, and the Playgoing Public, and the Sporting * Tlie Doctor, vol. ii. p. 86, ed. 1834. t 1 Taunt. 292. X 1-i Yesey, 175. § 19 Ves. 479. [The collection of overruled cases, published by Greenleaf, and of which a second edition was compiled by ourselves in 1856, testifies to the immense number of errors on points of law, committed by courts of justice.] OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 295 Public, and the Commercial Public, and the Literary Public, and the Reading Public : they call themselves Worlds sometimes." '"' Others of Dr. Johnson's definitions of world are, — " The manners of men ; the practice of life ; " and these he gives on the authorities of Dryden, Addison and Swift. "The Moujvey who had seen the world" (Gay's Monkey), on his return home gives to his comj^atriots, " the hairy sylvans, who round him press," an account of "the manners of men; the practice of life." The Vicar of Wakefield saw much of the w^orld, both at home and abroad ; and particularly at the fair, where he sold his horse, old Blackberry, to Mr. Jenkin- son. In prison, too, he saw something of life ; and of a fellow prisoner, the same Mr. Jenkinson, who bought the horse, " but forgot to j)ay for him," he says, — " I found this to be a knowing man, of strong unlettered sense, but a thorough knowledge of the w^orld, as it is called, or, more propeily speaking, of human nature on the wrono; side." A fair also was fatal to the Vicar's son Moses, who there sold the colt, and laid out the money for it in a " bargain " — a gross of green spec- tacles.f The Monkey of Gay saw the vanities and vices of polite society. So also did Dr. Primrose. iVnd he and his son bought, and dearly too, experience in the ways of a lower society, that of cheats and swindlers. The practices of life which Parnel's Hermit saw are of a 2:raver character : * The Doctor, vol. ii. p. 22, ed. 1834, [and see Tristram Sliaudy, ch. vii.] t The Vicar of Wakefield, ch. xii. xxv. 296 OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. " To know the world by sight, To find if books or swains report it right, He quits his cell," and sees — theft and murder. The worlds mentioned by Johnson and Southey, all in their turn, pass in review before a jury. By turns a jury see, with the Monkey of Gray, the vanities and vices of polite society ; with Dr. Primrose and his son, the ways of cheats and swindlers ; and with Parnel's Hermit, the practices of thieves and murderers. On a criminal trial a jury is usually instructed by the judge, that if after their consideration of the evi- dence, they have a doubt of the prisoner's guilt, the prisoner is entitled to the benefit of that doubt, and they ought to acquit him. In these cases the word doubt is often Cjualified by exj)ressions accompanying it; as, "reasonable doubt," "rational doubt," "a doubt which, as sensible men, the jury think has weight, but not a trivial doubt created by ingenuity." Meanings, which Dr. Johnson assigns to " doubt," are — " uncertainty of mind ; suspense ; undetermined state of opinion;" and one of his authorities is this from Locke, — "Those, who have examined it, are thereby got past doubt in all the doctrines they pro- fess." To the verb, doubt. Dr. Johnson gives the meanings, — " To question ; to be in uncertainty ; '^ and one of his examples is the following from Hooker : — " Even in matters divine, concerning some things, we may lawfully doubt, and suspend our judgment, in- clining neither to one side or other." From the opening of a criminal. trial to the close of the evidence, the witnesses gradually unroll the circum- stances before the jury ; some pointing to guilt, others, it may be, to innocence; and some perhaps are neutral, inclining to neither. Of the two former kinds, pieces OF CONCLUSIOX FROM FACTS. 297 of the evidence, one after the other, are placed in the scale of guilt, or in that of innocence. And if at the end, the jury having, individually and collectively, weighed the evidence with care, they come to the de- termination, that the scales of guilt and innocence stand even, neither of them inclining to the one side or the other, the effect will Le, the jury -will doubt, and giv- ing the prisoner the benefit of this doubt, they will say not guilty. When it is said the doubt must be that of " sensi- ble" men, " not a trivial doubt created by ingenuity," one imj^ort of these expressions may be, that the doubt must spring from, and be justified by, the evidence alone, to the entire exclusion of all surmises, which the jury might entertain of circumstances not contained in the evidence ; as their surmises of things, which y)Oss\- bly may have happened, but which the evidence does not prove did ha2:)pen : as, for instance, supposing it to be 2:)roved, that certain proi)erty Avas found in the pos- session of the prisoner ; it may be in his 2)ower to prove it was bought by him, or given to him ; but in the absence of this proof, the jury are not to surmise the purchase or the gift, and then, mixing it up with the evidence, arrive at their verdict on the evidence and their surmises combined : they must let tlie evidence stand as it is ; it roundly rejects all interference with it by surmises. Were it not that the force of a covenant is merged in the sanctity of an oath, the jury's oath to give " a true verdict according to the evidence ;" each juryman might sometimes be exhorted to say, in the fervor of feelinc: of Chief Justice Crew, when deliverino^ his opinion to the House of Lords, in the great cause on the title of Robert de Yere to the Earldom of Oxford, 20 298 OF COXCLUSIOX FROM FACTS. — " I have labored to make a covenant witli myself, tliat affection may not press upon judgment.''"^ This accords with the duty which Cicero imposes on a judo'e, — to lay aside the character of friend, on tak- ing that of judge.f Cicero in one of his addresses to a jury specifically points out to them certain duties which a jury must attend to : they are to consider that not only a power, hut a trust, is given to them ; it may be their duty to accpiit their enemy, and convict their friend ; they must consider not what their own inclinations would lead them to do, but what the law and their oaths oblige them to do ; they are not at liberty to do as they please; bat must bear in mind what law and equity, and their oaths, require of them ; they must banish from their minds all humor and caprice, hatred, envy, fear, and all sorts of bad passions ; and above all they are to take conscience for their guide ; that monitor, he says, which we have received from Heaven, of which we can- not divest ourselves and which, if we take it as our companion and guide through life, will enable us to live without fear and with all honor. J This advice of Cicero appears to have been very necessary at Rome, where it is said juries often, out of envy or dislike, despoiled the wealthy, and, from com- passion, enriched the poor.§ A desire, " that affection may not press upon judg- ment," does not mean, that a jury are to be indifferent on which side their verdict is given, are to exclude all wish toward either side. A wish toward one side is quite consistent with impartiality between both. Such a consistency is noticed by Archbishop Seeker, rela- * Sir W. Jones' Rep. 101. f Cic, Off. iii. 10. t Cic, Pro Cluentio, 58. § Terence. Phorniio, A. ii. S. 1. OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 299 tively to an inquiry concerning the truth of the Chris- tian Religion. He is combating a false notion, " that we ousrht to divest ourselves of all desire to find re- ligion time, before we go about to judge of it." A person, he says, making the inquiry will take care not to be misled by his desire, but he ought not to be indifferent concerning a jDoint on which his eter- nal hapj^iness dej^ends. " Nor," he continues, " is this the only case, far from it, in which we are bound to Avish on one side, and yet determine fairly between both. In judicial proceedings, a benevolent magistrate will constantly wish, that whoever is accused before him may prove innocent : notwithstanding which, he will try his cause with the most uj)right impartiality."" How dispassionate, how free from all bias and prej- udice, ought a jury to enter upon and exercise their duty ! With what patience ought they to hear all the evidence ; what deliberation and care ought they to use to arrive at a just verdict ! That verdict is to ad- minister even-handed justice; it may affect a man's estate, or person, or both. By their verdict the estate of one man today may be another's to-morrow, " 'Twas mine, 'tis his." And to what a fearful extent may a verdict affect a person ! It may pronounce a man sane or insane ; it may establish character, or take it away ; it may give liberty to the captive, or turn liberty into slavery ; it may continue life to a prisoner, or consign him to death.f * Sermons, vol. i. p. 10, ed. 1771. t " ' Go, crucify that slave.' ' For what offence ? Who the accuser ? Where the evidence ? For when the life of man is in debate, No time can be too long, no care too great ; Hear all, woicrh all with caution.' " GiFFOiiD. — Juvenal Sat.,\\. 218. 300 OF COXCLUSIOX FEOM FACTS. When a jury sit in judgment on a homicide, although by their verdict his life will be forfeited, they must not suffer pity for him to mingle with their oaths, and to divert the course of justice. To this pity, they should add the reflection, that his victim claims com- passion too."^ On Trial by Jury many eulogies have been shed ; but this spoken by Sir James Mackintosh in his De- fence of Jean Peltier, charged with a libel on Buona- parte, First Consul, is probably unsurpassed in beauty: " He now comes before you, perfectly satisfied that an English Jury is the most refreshing prospect that the eye of accused innocence ever met in a human tribunal. "f Happy is the country, in which it can be said, as it was at Ephesus, " The law is open, let them implead one another." In a rude state of society, under the sway of private vengeance, a man's hand " will be against every man, and every man's hand against him." Laws cannot prevent it.J And even in civilized states, what day passes without " wrong and robbery ?"§ In countries in the most advanced state of civiliza- tion, not only is private vengeance or redress as far as possible curbed by law ; but laws are made suited to all the common exigencies of mankind ; and not only to prevent and punish wrongs, but also to govern the peaceful transactions of life, men's acquisitions and dis- positions of property, and their home and foreign trades. In these countries a law-suit is not necessarily an effect of quarrel and litigiousness ; and many suits are "amicable." Yet law-suits, however "amicable," are not in general favorites ; and " Lis nunquam'''' (to * Wordsworth's Sonnets on the Punishment of Death. t Sir J. Mackintosh's Miscellaneous Works, vol. iii. p. 245. X Ovid., Trist.,Lib. V., El. vii. 147. ? Juvenal, Sat., xiii. 23. OF COXCLUSIOX FKOM FACTS. 301 have no law-suit) lias been placed among tlie felicities of life.* These two things merit the reflection of any one, who desires to make a law-suit an instrument of in- justice ; who tries to carry his cause by cunning and falsehood : One is, that, if he be successful, his own conscience wall avenge the crime.f The other is, that the truth may be too strong for him, and his attempt may fail. J In a sermon preached at the assizes at Lincoln in 1625, Bishop Sanderson takes these verses in Exodus, ch. xxiii., — " Thou sh alt not raise a false report ; Put not thine hand with the wicked to be an unrisfhteous witness ; Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil ; Neither shalt thou speak in a cause, to decline after many to wrest judgment ; " — and from these verses he gives to " the accuser, the witness, the juror, the l^leader," to each of them, " some brief intimation of their duty." This intimation is thus expressed : " If thou comest hither, then, as a plaintiff, or other party in a civil cause, or to give voluntary information u]3on a statute, or to prosecute against a malefactor, or in any Avay in the nature of an accuser ; let neither the hope of gain, or of any other advantage, to thyself, nor secret malice or envy against thine adversary, nor thy desire to give satisfaction to any third party, sway thee beyond the bounds of truth and e(|uity ; no, not a little, either to devise an untruth against thy neighbor of thine own head, or by a hard construction to de- prave the harmless actions or sjDeeches of others, or to make them worse than they are by unjust aggravations, * Martial. t Juvenal, Sat. xiii. 1 ; Il>id, 96. :j: Great is the force of truth ; man's crafty fictitious tales are powerless against it. — Cic. Pro Ccelio, 26. Eloquence is not all in all; certain truths are so strong, that nothing can Aveaken them. — Cic. Pro Quintio, 36. 302 OF CONCLUSION FKOM FACTS. or to take advantage of letters and syllables to entrap innocency without a fault. When thou art to oj^en thy mouth against thy brother, set the first rule of that text as a watch before the door of thy lips, Thou shalt not raise a false report. " If thou comest hither, secondly, to be used as a wit- ness ; perhaps GrcBca fide, like a downright Knight of the Post, that maketh an oath a jest, and a pastime of deposition ; or dealt withal by a bribe, or suborned by thy landlord or great neighbor, or egged on with thy own spleen or malice, to swear and forswear as they shall prompt thee ; or to interchange deposition with thy friend, as they used to do in Greece, Hodie miTii Cms tihi (swear thou for me, to-day, I'll swear for thee to-morrow) ; or tempted with any corrupt resj)ect what- soever, by thy word or oath to strengthen a false and unrighteous report ; when thou comest to lay thy hand upon the book, lay the second rule in that text to thy heart, — Put not thy hand with the wicked to be an unrighteous witness. Though hand join in hand, the false witness shall not be unpunished. " If thou comest hither, thirdly, to serve for the King u23on the grand inquest, or between party and party, in any cause whatsoever (like those selectijudices among the Romans, whom the Praetor for the year being was to nominate, and that uj^on oath, out of the most able and serviceable men in his judgment, both for estate, understanding and integrity), or to serve upon the Tales, perhaps at thine own suit to get something toward bearing charges for thy journey; or yoked with a crafty or a willful foreman, that is made beforehand, and a mess of tame after-men withal, that dare not think of being wiser than their leader; or unwilling to stickle against a major part, whether they go right or wrong; or resolved already upon the verdict, no OF CONCLUSION FKOM FACTS. 303 matter what the evidence be ; consider what is the weight and religion of an oath. Remember that he sinneth not less, that sinneth with company. Whatso- ever the rest do, resolve thou to do no otherwise than as God shall put into thy heart, and as the evidence shall lead thee. The third rule in that text must be thy rule. Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil. They are silly, that, in point either of religion or jus- tice, would teach us to measure either truth, or right, by multitudes. " If thou comest hither, fourthly, as to thine harvest, to reap some fruit of thy long and expenseful study in the laws, to assist thy client and his cause with thy counsel, learning and eloquence ; think not because thou speakest for thy fee, that therefore thy tongue is not thine own, but thou must S2:)eak what thy client will have thee speak, be it true or false ; neither think because thou hast the liberty of the court, and perhaps the favor of the judge, that therefore thy tongue is thine own, and thou mayest speak thy pleasure to the prejudice of the adversaries, person or cause : seek not preposterously to win the name of a good lawyer, by wresting and j^erverting good laws ; or the opinion of the best counsellor, by giving the worst and shrewd, est counsel. Count it not, as Protagoras did, the glory of thy profession, by subtilty of wit, and volubility of tongue, to make the worst cause the better ; but like a good man, as well as good orator, use the power of thy tongue and wit to shame imjxidence, and j^rotect in- nocency, to crush oppressors, and succor the afflicted, to advance justice and equity, and to help them to right that suffer wrono;. Let it l^e as a ruled case to thee in all thy pleadings, not to s^^eak in any cause to ^vl•est judg- ment."* * Bishop Sanderson's Sermons, vol. ii. p. 131, ed. 1681. 304 OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. Thus lionestly and boldly did Bisliop Sanderson, in the I7tli century, set before tlie accuser, the witness, the juror, and the pleader, their separate duties. And again did another bishop, in the 18th century, with equal honesty and boldness, give sound admonitions to parties to a cause, their witnesses, and advocates. This is Archbishoj) Seeker, who, in one of his sermons upon oaths, a sermon on the Third Commandment, takes oc- casion to make the following remarks : " If ever we assert anything upon oath, which we know or believe to be false : if we deny anything, which we know or believe to be true : if we either affirm, or deny, in mat- ters of which we know nothing : or if, in matters of which we do know something, we speak beyond our knowledge ; declaring ourselves to be certain of what we only believe; or to believe firmly what we only suspect or guess : every one of these things, in its differ- ent degree, is pl'ofaning the name of God to attest a falsehood. And further, if, when we are sworn to tell the whole truth, we conceal designedly any part of it, which we think may be of moment ; here again we are guilty of breaking our oath. Nay, indeed, though we are not sworn to tell the whole, yet we should observe, that the only reason of giving evidence at all is, that right may be done ; and suj^j^ressing a truth may some- times as entirely mislead and deceive, as telling the grossest falsehood. In short, then, if we use any method whatever, be it aggravating, or be it palliating, to disguise the real state of the case ; if we relate it in any other manner whatever than the fairest and plain- est we can, after diligently recollecting and considering well ; every such artifice amounts to a violation of this great law of God And greatly akin to the guilt of being perjured ourselves, nay often as bad^ and sometimes worse, if possible, is that of inducing OF CONCLUSION FROM FACTS. 305 others to be perjured : a sin wliicli is committed, not only by direct hiring of them to swear falsehoods, but by awing and intimidating ; by courting and flattering ; by intimating advantages to them, if they can truly swear so and so ; by talking them into a j^ersuasion of Avhat they were not fully persuaded of before ; and thus making them strain hard to believe, that they know or remember more or less than they do. Another way, and a very wicked one, of making witnesses for- swear themselves is, when artful men contrive, that they shall use forms of words, of which they do not thoroughly understand the import ; or disconcert them so, on their appearance in a courtof justice, by improper treatment of them ; and astonish and confound them in such a manner, by a multiplicity of captious questions ; that they hinder them from speaking the truth, which they intended, or drive them into saying falsehoods, which they did not intend."" If the duties 2:»ointed out by Bishop Sanderson to the accuser, the witness, the juror, and the pleader, are not attended to, no presiding judge, in the opinion of the same i:)relate, will be able to ensure justice : " For say a judge be never so honestly minded, never so zealous of the truth, never so careful to do right, yet if there be a spiteful accuser, that will suggest any thing ; or an au- dacious witness, that will swear any thing ; or a crafty pleader, that will maintain any thing ; or a tame jury, that will swallow any thing; the judge who is tied (as it is meet he should) to proceed secundum allegata et 2)robata^ cannot, with his best care and wisdom, j^revent it, but that sometimes justice shall be perverted, in- nocency oppressed, and guilty ones justified."f * Seeker's Sermons, vol. iv. p. 253, ed. 1771. t Bishop Sanderson's Sermons, vol. ii. p. 102, ed. 1681. 306 OF COKCLUSION FROM FACTS. If the same duties are observed, the probable result will be, tlie acquisition of justice, the triumph of truth over falsehood. Addison, in one of his paj)ers in the Spectator^ rep- resents two opposing armies, at the head of one of which was truth, of the other, falsehood. He thus describes their meeting, and the overthrow of false- hood : " The goddess of falsehood was of a gigantick stature, and advanced some paces before the front of her army ; but as the dazzling light, which flowed from TRUTH, began to shine upon her, she faded insensibly ; insomuch that, in a little space, she looked rather like a huge phantom, than a real substance. At length, as the goddess of truth approached still nearer to her, she fell away entirely, and vanished amidst the brightness of her presence ; so that there did not remain the least trace or impression of her figure in the place where she had been seen."* " So fares it, when with Truth Falsehood contends,"! * The Spectator, No. 63. t Paradise Regained, Bk. iii. APPENDIX. APPENDIX. The following rules for the examination of witnesses were pub- lished some years since by David Paul Brown, of the Philadelphia Bar, they were by him entitled : (Solbm gwlfs iox i^t ^mmxmimx oi Mitiusscs. FIRST, AS TO YOUR 0W>" WITNESSES. I. — If they are bold, and may injure your cause by pertness or forwardness, observe a gravity and ceremony of manner toward them which may be calculated to repress their assurance. II. — If they are alarmed or diffident, and their thoughts are evi- dently scattered, commence your examinations with matters of a flmiiliar character, remotely connected with the subject of their alarm, or the matter in issue; as for instance — Where do you live? Do you know the parties 1 How long have you known them, etc. And when you have restored them to their composure, and the mind has regained its equilibrium, jjroceed to the more essential features of the case, being careful to be mild and distinct in your approaches, lest you may again trouble the fountain from which you are to drink. III. — If the evidence of your own witnesses be unfovorable to you (which should always be carefully guarded against), exhil>it no want of composure ; for there are many minds that form opinions of the nature or character of testimony chiefly from the effect which it may appear to produce upon the counsel. IV. — If you perceive that the mind of the witness is imbued with prejudices against your client, hope but little from such a quarter — unless there be some facts which are essential to your client's protec- tion, and wliich that witness alone can prove, either do not call him, or get rid of him as soon as possible. If the opposite counsel perceive 310 APPENDIX. the bias to which I have referred, he may employ it to your ruin. In judicial inquiries, of all possible evils, the worst and the least to be resisted is an enemy in the disguise of a friend. You cannot impeach him — you cannot cross-examine him — you cannot disarm him — you cannot indirectly, even, assail him.; and if you exercise the only privi- lege that is left to you, and call other witnesses for the purposes of ex- planation, you must bear in mind that, instead of carrying the war into the enemy's country, the struggle is still between sections of your own forces, and in the very heart, perhaps, of your own camp. Avoid this, by all means. V. — Never call a witness whom your adversary will be compelled to call. This will afford you the privilege of cross-examination — take from your opponent the same privilege it thus gives to you — and, in addition thereto, not only render every thing unfavorable said by the witness doubly operative against the party calling him, but also de- prive that party of the power of counteracting the effect of the testi- mony. VI. — Never ask a question without an object — nor without being able to connect that object with the case, if objected to as irrelative. VII. — Be careful not to put your question in such a shape that, if opposed for informality, you cannot sustain it, or at all events pro- duce strong reason in its suppoi't. Frequent failures in the discus- sions of points of evidence enfeeble your strength in the estimation of the jury and greatly impair your hopes in the final result. VIII. — Never object to a question from your adversary without being able and disjjosed to enforce the objection. Nothing is so monstrous as to be constantly making and withdrawing objections ; it either indicates a want of correct perception in making them^or a deficiency of reason or of moral courage in not making them good. IX. — Speak to your witness clearly and distinctly as if you were awake and engaged in a matter of interest — and make him also speak distinctly and to your question. How can it be supposed that the Court and Jury will be inclined to listen, when the only struggle seems to be Avhether the counsel or the witness shall first go to sleep? X. — Modulate your voice as circumstances may direct — " Inspire the fearful and repress the bold." RULES FOR EXAMINING WITNESSES. 311 XI. — Never begin before you are ready— and always finish when you have done. In other words, do not question for question's sake, but for an answer. Cross-examination. I. — Except in indifferent matters, never take your eye from that of the witness ; this is a channel of communication from mind to mind, the loss of which nothing can compensate. " Truth, falsehood, hatred, anger, scorn, despair, And all the passions — all the soul is there." II. — Be not regardless, either, of the voice of the witness ; next to the eye this is perhaps the best interpreter of his mind. The very design to screen conscience from crime, — the mental reservation of the wit- ness, — is often manifested in the tone or accent, or emphasis of the voice. For instance, it becoming important to know that the wit- ness was at the corner of Sixth and Chestnut streets at a certain time : The question is asked : were you at the corner of Sixth and Chestnut streets, at six o'clock ? A frank witness would answer — perhaps — I was near there. But a witness who had been there, desirous to con- ceal the fact and to defeat your object, speaking to the letter rather than the spirit of the inquiry, answers. No ; although he may have been within a stone's throw of the place or at the very place, within ten minutes of the time. The common answer of such a witness would be : I was not at the corner, at six o'clock. Emphasis upon both words, plainly implies a mental evasion or equivocation, and gives rise with a skillful examiner to the question : At what hour were you at the corner, or at what place were you at six o'clock 1 And in nine instances out of ten it will appear, that the witness was at the place about the time, or at the time about the place. There is no scope for further illustrations — but be watchful, I say, of the voice, and the principle may be easily applied. III. — Be mild with the mild — shrewd with the crafty — confiding with the honest — merciful to the young, the frail, or the fearful — rough to the ruffian, and a thunderbolt to the liar. But in all this, never be unmindful of your own dignity. Bring to bear all the pow- ers of your mind — not that you may shine, but that virtue may tri- umph and your cause may prosper. 312 APPENDIX. IV. — In a criminal, especially in a ccqriial case, so long as your cause stands ^vell ask but few questions ; and be certain never to ask any, the answer to -syhich, if against you, may destroy your client, unless you know the witness perfect!]/ well, and know that his answer will be favorable equally well ; or unless you be prepared with testi- mony to destroy him if he play traitor to the truth and your expect- ations. V. — An equivocal question is almost as much to be avoided and condemned as an equivocal answer ; and it alway leads to, or excuses, an equivocal answer. Singleness of purpose, clearly expressed, is the best trait in the examination of witnesses, whether they be honest or the reverse. Falsehood is not detected by cunning, but by the light of truth, or if by cunning, it is the cunning of the witness, and not of the counsel. VI. — If the witness determine to be witty or refractory with you, vou had better settle that account with him at first, or its items will increase with the examination. Let him have an opportunity of satis, fying himself either that he has mistaken your jjower, or his own. But in any result, be careftil that you do not lose your temper ; anger is alwavs either the precursor or evidence of assured defeat in every intellectual conflict. VII. — Like a skillful chess player, in every move, fix your mind upon the combinations and relations of the game — partial and tem- porary success may otherwise end in total and remediless defeat. VIII. — Never undervalue your adversary, but stand steadily upon your guard ; a random blow may be just as fatal as though it were directed by the most consummate skill : the negligence of one often cures, and sometimes renders effective, the blimders of another. IX. — Be respectful to the court and to the Jury — kind to your colleague — civil to your antagonist ; but never sacrifice the slightest principle of duty to an overweening deference toward either. PRACTICAL ADVICE FOR CONDUCTING THE EXAMIXATIOX OF WITNESSES. [Abridged from Mr. Cox's work, entitled "The Advocate, his Training, Prac- tice, Rights, and Duties."] THE EXAMINATION-IN-CHIEF. An impression prevails in the Profession, that the examination-in- chief is an easy task, which anybody may perform, and demanding neither ability nor experience. But this is a grave mistake, as will be discovered at the first experiment. The witnesses cannot always be relied upon in their statements made out of court. Nothing is more common than to find assertions, most confidently made in the ofl^ce, retracted in the witness-box, under the sanction of an oath and the fear of cross-examination. It is often impossible by any vigilance to keep persons to the strict literal truth in their statements given in the office, and unless you are prepared for this kind of disappointment in your examination in-chief you will be sorely disconcerted. And here let us warn you against the danger which inexperience frequently incurs, of being not only disconcerted by the witness failing to support his previous statements, but by exhibiting in countenance or manner the disappointment you feel. Let nothing, not even a tone of your voice, betray surprise, or it will assuredly reveal your weakness to your opponent, who may make use of the fact to discredit your wit- ness and your cause, by the argument, always powerful, that the wit- ness has told two different stories. Another rule of examination is, you should commit to memory the leading facts to be proved by the witness, or have a synopsis of them before you. If you read your questions from your brief, you will find it very difficult, whatever the necessity, to depart from the terras or the order there set down. But if you examine from your memory, or a brief outline of the facts? your whole attention will be given to the witness, your eye to his deportment, your mind to his words, and knowing what you want to have from him, you will be enabled to adapt your questions in ac- cordance with what has preceded, and so as to procure the facts you are seeking. It happens frequently that new facts come out in exami- 21 314 APPENDIX. nation, \vhich materially alter the comjilexion of the case, and require a complete remodeling of the ^entire train of questions, with a view to elicit explanation and to make the whole consistent with your case. Such a position will demand the exercise of all your ingenuity and caution, and it is in such a position that the skill of the accomplished Advocate is discovered, far more than in those oratorical displays which win for him the applause of the public, LEADING QUESTIONS. The first great rule of practice in the examination-in-chief is, that you shall not put leading questions to your own witness — a leading question being such an one as suggests the answer. This rule is sim- ple, and seemingly easy of application ; but you will find it to be ex- cessively difficult to be observed in practice, and indeed, if it were strictly enforced, a trial -svould be prolonged indefinitely. At the beginning of your practice probably you will be apt to err rather by its too strict observance, than by violating it. Nevertheless, as it is often enforced without necessity, merely for the sake of interruption, you must be prepared to cope with its difficulties, and we will en- deavor to point out the most prominent of them. But first observe, that the rule against leading questions is properly applicable only to such questions as relate to the matter at issue. It is permitted to you, and the Judges will encourage you in the practice, to lead the witness directly up to the point at issue. It saves time and clears the case, and if you narrow^ly observe experienced Advo- cates, you will find that they always adopt this course. For instance, instead of putting the introductory questions, " Where do you live 1 " " What are you 1 " and so forth, you should, unless there be some special reason to the contrary, directly put the leading question, " Are you a banker carrying on business in Wall street ? " and so on, until you approach the questionable matter, when, of course, you will pro- ceed to conduct the examination according to the strict rule. But that rule is not so easily to be observed as you m;iy suppose. Frequently it will occur, that you will have need to call the attention of the witness to something he may have forgotten — as thus : Sup- pose that you were examining as to a certain conversation. The wit- ness has narrated the greater portion of it, but he has omitted a pas- sage which is of importance to you. We know that, in fact, with all of us, in our calmest moments, it is difficult to repeat perfectly the whole of what w^as said at a certain interview, and if it had been a long one, probably we might repeat it half a dozen times, and each time omit a different portion of it, although in either case the omitted EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 315 part would be instantly recalled to our memories if we were asked, '• Did he not also say so and so 1 " or, " Was not something said about so and so ? " But this sort of reminiscent question you are not permitted to put to a witness, because it would be a leading question, although he is far more likely, in his agitation, to forget that he had not repeated the whole than we should be in our calmest moments- In vain you ask him, " Did any thing more pass between you 1 " " Was nothing more saidl " " Have you stated all that occurred 1 " He does not in fact remember precisely what he had stated of it, or the portion you desire to obtain has escaped his memory for the mo- ment. It would flash upon him instantly, if it were to be repeated, or even to be half uttered. But you may not help him so, and then there arises a perplexity, which every Advocate must often have ex- perienced, — in what manner can this be recalled, without leading 1 Here is another occasion for the exercise of that ready tact in the conduct of an examination-in-chief which marks the skillful Advocate. Your endeavor must now be to suggest indirectly the forgotten state- ment : and to do so without violating the rule which in this respect is certainly pushed further than justice and fairness to the infirmity of human memory can sanction. As each case must depend upon its circumstances, it is impossible to lay down any rule to help you, or even to hint at forms of suggestion. But one method we may name, as having proved efficacious when others had failed, and that is, to make the witness repeat his account of the interview, or whatever it may be; then it will not unfrequently haj^pen, as we have already observed, that he will remember and repeat the passage yon require and omit something else which he had previously stated. But this, of course, matters not ; your object has been gained, and your ad- versary may take what advantage he can of the difference in the statements. If the story is a long one, you will avoid inflicting this repetition of it, until other expedients have been tried in vain. It may be added, that a single word often suffices to suggest the whole sentence ; if you have a quick wit, you may sometimes bring out the matter you want, by so framing a question that it shall contain a part of the forgotten sentence ipsissimis verbis, but otherwise applied. TO AVOID CONFLICTING TESTIMONV. Great caution is required in the examination of all your witnesses after the first, to prevent their disagreement in any important par- ticulars. No error of inexperience or unskill fulness is more common than to examine a witness according to the brief, without reference to the evidence previously given and the requirements of the case as it 316 appe:ndix. stands. If you fear that there may "be conflicting testimony on any point, the first witness having varied from the statement in the brief, it is usually better to leave it as it stands upon that single testimony than to bring out a contradiction ; but upon this you must exercise your sagacity at the moment ; it must depend upon the particular facts of the case ; we only suggest to you, that it is one of the diffi- culties of examination-in-chief, which you should be prepared to en- counter. Anticipating it, you will not be taken by surj)rise when it occurs to you in your practice. WITNESSES WHO PROVE TOO MUCH. There are two kinds of troublesome \\ itnesses whom you will have to encounter in the conduct of a cause — those who say too much, and. those who say too little ; your too eager friends, and your secret ene- mies. Of these, by far the most difficult to deal with are your over- zealous friends — your witnesses who prove too much. A very little experience will enable you to detect these personages almost at a glance, certainly after a few sentences. They usually try to look wonderfully easy and confident ; answer ofi-hand, with extraordinary glibness, and give you twice as much information as you have asked for. Now, another rule of evidence is, that you shall not discredit your own witnesses, so that your only chance of dealing with these troublesome friends is to check them, at the very outset, by kindly, but gravely and peremptorily, requiring them to do no more than simply to answer the questions you may put to them, and then so to frame your questions that the answer to them shall be a plain " Yes " or " No," giving them no opportunity for expatiating. Keep them closely to the point for which they are required, and having got from them just what you want, dismiss them, right thankful if they have not done you more liarm than good. ADVERSE WITNESSES. "With your unfriendly witness, you must deal altogether after an- other fashion. There is no more difficult and delicate task, in the conduct of an examination-in-chief, than so skillfully to manage an adverse witness, called by yourself, that he shall state just so much as you require, and no more. When the court is satisfied that the witness is really an adverse one, the strict rule which forbids leading questions will be relaxed, and you will be jDermitted to conduct the examination somewhat more after the manner of a cross-examination. But this is only a partial license. You may put leading questions, but you may not discredit EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 317 him, whatever may have been the damage done to you by his testi- mony, and however obvious the animus which has misrepresented the facts purposely for the injury of your cause. He is still your wit- ness, and having chosen to call him, and thereby to ask the jury to believe his story, it is not competent to you to turn round, when you find he does not suit your purpose, and endeavor to show to the jury that he is unworthy of credit. The most you are allowed to do is to show the witness has made a mistake. As a general rule, the less you say to such a witness the better for you. Bring him directly to the point which he is called to prove ; frame your questions so that they shall afford the least possible room for evasion, or, what is still worse, exjilanation. Avail yourself of your liberty to lead as soon as you can — that is, as soon as you have laid the foundation for it by showing from his manner that the wit- ness is really adverse. Make no secret of his enmity ; on the con- trary, you have most to dread when his manner and tone do not dis- cover his feelings. If you are satisfied beyond doubt of his hostility, and he should, as is often seen, assume a frank and friendly mien in the witness-box, instead of accepting his approaches, reject them with indignation ; let him see that you understand him and are not to be imposed upon, and endeavor to provoke him to the exhibition of his true feelings. The importance of so doing will be obvious to you when you remember that it is essential to the safet}'^ of your cause that the jury should receive his testimony with a knowledge of the circumstances under which it is given, so that any thing adverse to you which n\a,y foil from him shall be accepted by them with the allow- ance which is ahvays made by reasonable men for the exaggerations or even inventions of an enemy ; for, to an audience so prepared whatever fiills from him in your favor will have double value given to it, and whatever he may say that tells against you will be rejected. Hence it is that the first care of a skillful Advocate, in dealing with his own adverse witness, is not only not to conceal the hostility, but to make it prominent — to provoke it to an open display, and draw out the expression of the feeling, if it does not sufficiently appear without a stimulus. If he be adverse at all, you cannot make him appear too adverse, because the more hostile he is the more will his evidence in your favor be esteemed, and the less weight will be given to such as he may utter against you. TIMID WITNESSES. If your witness be timid, it will be your care to restore his self-' possession before you take him to the material part of his testimony. 318 APPENDIX. This you should effect by assuming a cheerful and friendly manner and tone, and if you have the art to make him smile, your wit would be better timed than is always the case with forensic jests. Keep him thus emjiloyed uj)on the fringe of the case, until you are satisfied that his courage is restored, and then you may proceed with him as with any other witness. But be very careful not to take him to material topics while he is under the infkience of fear, for in this state a witness is apt to become confused, and to contradict himself, and so to afford to your adversary a theme for damaging comment. STUPID WITNESSES. A stupid witness is often more troublesome than an adverse one. He cannot understand your questions, or answers them so imperfectly that he had better left them unanswered. With such an one the only resource is patience and good temper. If you are cross with him, you will be sure to increase his stupidity, and to convert evidence that means nothing into evidence that is contradictory and confused. The preservation of imperturbable good temper is a golden rule with an advocate. Pie should never be moved to anger by any thing, how- ever provoking, and however he may ajyj^ear to be in a passion. En- tire self-command is his greatest virtue, never more in requisition than in dealing with a stupid witness. Instead of rebuking him, you should encourage him by a look and expression of approval, and you must frame your question in another shape better suited to his dense faculties. If baffled again, do not retreat, but renew the catechism until your object is obtained. In constructing your questions, you will often find a clue to his trains of thought by observing his ans- wers, and your next question might then, with a little ingenuity, be so framed as to fall in with his train of ideas. Thus patiently treated, there are few witnesses so dull as not to be made efficient for the purpose of an examination-in-chief. ORDER AND MANNER OF PUTTING QUESTIONS. In the direct examination of witnesses, it is the better course to observe the order of time. That is not only the most easily in- telligible to the jury, but it is the natural order in which events are associated in the mind of the witness, and therefore by which they are the most readily and accurately recalled. If you depart from this for the sake of bringing out facts that are connected together by some other link than time, as, for instance, to exhibit in its entirety one branch of your case, let the same principle govern the order of that, and then return to the original plan. But it will not do to re- EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 319 vert to the precise point where you quitter! it ; you should repeat the two or three questions with which you concluded, so as to recall your witness to the point from which you had diverted him. Inattention to this simple rule is often the occasion of no small perplexity to the witness, and it is scarcely necessary to Avarn you against that, of which advantage is certain to be taken to damage your case. Your manner in examination-in-chief should he very different from that which you assume in cross-examination. You are dealing with your own witness, Avhom you assume to be friendly to you, un- less informed to the contrary, when it is permitted to you to take the tone already described You must encourage him if he be timid, and win his confidence by a look and voice of friendliness. It often happens that witnesses, unaccustomed to courts of justice, are so alarmed at their own new position, that in their confusion they can- not at first distinguish between the friendly and the adverse cotmsel, and they treat you as an enemy to be kej)t at bay and to Avhom they are to impart as little as possible. It is then your care to set your witness right, and a kindly smile will often succeed in doing this. Do not appear to notice his embarrassment, for that is sure to in- crease it, but remove it quietly and imperceptibly by pleasant looks, friendly tones, and words that have not the stern sound of a cate- chism, but the familiar request of a companion to impart a story which the querist is anxious to hear and the other gratified to tell. The most frightened witness may thus be drawn almost unconsciously into a narrative which, when he entered the witness-box, had escaped his memory. Your questions in examination-in-chief should be framed carefidly and put deliberately. You never require in this that rapid fire of questions which, as we shall have occasion to show hereafter, is so often requisite in cross-examination. Nor in this have you need to put an immaterial question, save under the rare circumstances previ- ously described. You should weigh every question in your mind be- fore you put it, in order that it may be so framed as to bring out in answer just so much as you desire, and no more. You have time for this, if you are as quick of thought as an Advocate should be, while the judge is taking his note of the previous answer ; but even if this be not sufficient for your purpose, you must not fear to make a de- liberate pause. The court will soon learn not to be impatient of your seeming slowness, when it discovers that you have in fact ab- breviated the work by a pause which has enabled you to keep the evidence strictly to the point at issue. )20 APPE^fDIX. ALLOWING A WITNESS TO TELL HIS STORY HIS OWN WAY. • Sometimes it demands considerable discretion to determine whether it is better to jDermit the witness to tell his own story in his own way, or to take him through it by questions. No rule can be laid down for this ; it must depend upon your discernment at the moment. There is a class of minds which can only recall facts byre- calling all the associated circumstances, however irrelevant ; they must repeat the whole of a long dialogue, and describe the most trivial occurrences of the time, in order to arrive at any particular part of the transaction. With such you have no help for it but to let them have their oAvn way. It is the result of a peculiar mental constitution, and endeavors to disturb their trains of association will only produce inextricable confusion in the ideas of the witness, and you will be further than ever from arriving at your object. But if you are dealing with that other class of witnesses, happily more rare, "who appear to have no trains of thought at all, who can observe no order of events, whose ideas are confused as to time, place and per- son, your only chance of extracting anything to your purpose is to begin by requesting that they will simply answ^ er your questions, and, falling in, as it were, with their own mental cbndition, proceed to interrogate them after their own fashion, ^\\\.\i disconnected questions and so endeavoring to draw out of them isolated facts, which you will afterwards connect together in your reply, or which may dove- tail with the rest of the evidence, so as to form a complete story. This plan will often be found effective with such witnesses, when all the usual methods of eliciting a narrative from them have been abandoned in despair. Of course it demands great tact and readi- ness ; but it is presumed that unless you possess these qualities you will not attempt to become an Advocate. RECALLING A WITNESS. It will be your task, Avhen reading and noting up your case, to marshal your witnesses in the order in which they will best support your case, as you have determined to submit it to the jury. But, inasmuch as you are not permitted to recall your witnesses, except with special permission of the court, given only under special circum- stances, and you are therefore compelled to elicit all that you require in order to support any part of your case, where the same witness speaks to different parts of it, you must take care in his examination to separate his testimony, as it relates to each of such parts, and even at the expense of some repetition to take him through his evi- EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 321 dencc as it bears upon one part before you take him to another, ob- serving, however, the rules as to time and the manner of reverting to the former portion of the narrative, which have been previously described. DUTIES OF OPPOSING COUNSEL PENDING THE EXAMINATION-IN-CHIEF. While the examination-in-chief is proceeding, it is the duty of the counsel on the other side to give the most attentive ear to every • question and every answer, and to take a note of them. When this duty devolves upon you, it may, perhaps, be performed all the more satisfactorily by the observance of some rules which experience has approved. You must mark every question put to the witness, with a double purpose ; first, to be sure that it is properly put, according to the rules of evidence, and, secondly, to ascertain what is its bearing upon the case, and the design of your adversary in putting it. Great keenness of perception and readiness of apprehension are requisite to the proper performance of this task. You will need to have the law of evidence at your fingers' ends, that, if the question be an improper one, you may interpose instantly, before the ansiver is given, to forbid the witness to reply, and then not only to make your objection to the court, but to support it by reasons. And here let us warn you against the fault of making too frequent and too frivolous objections. Many inexperienced men appear to think, that by continually carping at the questions put by the other side to the witnesses, they are proving to the audience how clever they are. But this is a mistake. Such an exhibition of captiousness, whether affected or real, is offensive to the court and to the jury. Nothing is more easy than to find opportunities for this sort of van- ity, without starting objections actually untenable, because, in prac- tice, a vast number of questions are put which, in strictness are lead- ing, and, therefore, if objected to, could not be permitted. But you should never object to a question, as leading, merely because it is such, but only when it appears to you to be likely to have an effect inju- rious to your cause. And Avhen you have occasion to make such an objection, do it good-temperedly, and as appealing to the better judg- ment of your opponent, whether he does not deem it to be an im- proper question ; nor address the objection to the court in the first instance, but to your adversary, and only if he persists in putting it, should you call upon the court to decide between you which is right. But it is not against improper leading questions you have to be upon the watch ; there are many others, still more objectionable, 322 APPENDIX. which it will he your duty, hy an instant ohjection, to prevent. As soon as the words have fallen from your opponent's lips, and hefore the Avitness can have time to answer, you must interpose first, with an e.\clamation to the witness, " Don't answer that," and then, turning to the court, state what is your ohjection to the question, with your reason for it. Your opponent will answer you. Then you will have the right of replying, and the court will decide between you. There is, perhaps, no part of the business of an Advocate in which the fruits of experience are more obvious than in this. If you watch closely the examinations of the witnesses, in a trial where an experi- enced Advocate is on the one side and an inexperienced one on the other, you will see the practiced man putting question after question, and eliciting flicts most damaging to the other side, which his adver- sary might have shut out by a prompt objection to them, but which he permits to pass without protest, because he is not sufficiently practiced in the law of evidence to discern their illegality on the in- stant, or so much Jiiaster of it as to give a reason for objection, even though he may have a sort of dim sense that the questions are wrong somehow, and he protests against leading questions, while he permits illegal questions, destructive to his client, to be put without a mur- mur. On the other hand, when it comes to his turn to examine his witnesses, and on the experienced man devolves the duty of watching, you will see how, in no single instance, is he suffered to tread over the traces ; but the strictest rules of evidence are enforced upon him, so that he sits down, leaving half his case undeveloped, while his ad- versary has brought out all that he had desired to elicit. IMPORTANCE OF KNOWLEDGE OF LAW OF EVIDENCE. Hence, to the student aspiring to be an Advocate, the vital im- portance of a mastery of the law of evidence, as the branch of law which is not only most frequently in requisition by him, but the only one which he is called upon to propound without previous research. Almost all other subjects are notified to him before he goes into court, so that he may look into the law and prepare himself for the argument ; or, if, as rarely happens, he is suddenly called upon, the court will always give time for research, or, at the least, allowance is made for an insufficiency common to his audience, even to the judge upon the bench. But, in questions of evidence, no such delay is practicable, and no such excuse is accepted. They necessarily arise on a sudden, and must be suddenly argued and decided. An Advo- cate is expected to be aware of this, and to come prepared with a knowledge of all the principles and rules of evidence. In order to EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 323 this, it is necessary to keep up his acquaintance with it, l»y continually refreshing his memory, not only by reading every day a portion of his favorite text-book, but by carefully reading, and then noting up in that text-book, which should be interleaved for the purpose, every case decided upon the law of evidence, as the reports issue ; and it is of the extremest importance that he should possess the very latest decisions, for they will not unfrequently give him a victory over an adversary not so well prepared as himself with the latest cases. While upon this subject, it may be convenient to add, that there is another class of cases of which an Advocate should be careful to pro- cure the earliest intelligence, and should note with equal care in his book of practice; namely, such as may, perhaps, be best described, under the collective title of " The Practice of Nisi Prius.''^ We mean, by this, cases equally in sudden requisition with those on evidence, as determining the conduct of a trial ; as the right to begin, notices, juries and verdicts, the measure of damages, exceptions, &;c. Many a victory has been won solely by the superior diligence of an Advo- cate in thus possessing himself of the most recent decisions on cases of this class. MINUTES OF TESTIMONY. Your notes of the evidence, as it proceeds, should be fully taken, because you cannot anticipate at this period of the cause what por- tions of it may prove to be material, nor where a question may arise as to what was the witness' answer. In taking these notes, you be- gin with the day aad date on which the trial took place, and the name of the judge. You then s'^ery briefly note the more important points of the opening speech, especially such points as you purpose to answer, and you indicate such as will require peculiar attention by scoring it twice or thrice. Then stating the name of the witness, and the counsel by whom he is examined, you set down his evidence, leav- ing a broad margin for your own observations, if any should occur to you. It is not necessary to give both question and answer, save where the question strikes you as one of special import, or to which you might desire thereafter to refer; it will suffice merely to give the ans- wer in the witness' own words, as nearly as you can observe them, so as to make the statement intelligible. Thus, if the witness be asked, " Were you at Albany on Saturday ? " and answers, " I was," — a leading question, but probably not woith ol)jecting to, — you set it down thus : ''Was at Albany on Saturday." But let it be a rule, so far as it is practicable, always to take the very words used by the witness. As you proceed, you will fnid that the evidence suggests to 324 APPENDIX. you matter to be explained on cross-examination, or to be answered in yom- speech for the defence, or to be contradicted by your own witness. Here it is that you will find the margin useful. When such an idea occurs to you, never suffer it to escape, trusting to recall it when it is wanted, for, amid the multiplicity of claims upon your attention, you cannot be assured that it Avill return ; but grasp it in- stantly, and in the margin, against the evidence that is so to be treated, insert some mark which may catch your eye, and if the words are not likely to suggest the thought you desire to recall, you can, in a hurried sentence, there set down that of which you wish to be reminded. This plan is especially useful for the purpose of cross-examination, for it is extremely difficult to carry in the mind all the evidence-in-chief that needs to be explained or deprived of its credit ; but, with this scored and noted report of the witness' testimony before you, it is unlikely that anything of moment will escape your attention. EXAMINATION OX VOIR DIRE. Another duty may devolve upon you, as Advocate — that is, the examination on the voir dire. This legal phrase means merely the examination to which a witness may be subjected, before he is ad- mitted to be sworn, for the purpose of ascertaining if he is competent to be a witness. When, therefore, a witness is called, you must be prepared, if you have an objection to him, to state it iniinediately on his appearance, and before he is sworn to give his evidence between the parties ; and, having intimated to the court that you have such an objection, you will proceed to examine him in support of it. This examination you will be permitted to conduct as in the nature of a cross-examination. Very iew questions usually suffice ; but if you are dealing with an acute witness, who knows your object, and es- pecially with a professional one, no common skill and tact are often required to drag out of him the particular circumstances necessary to sustain your objection. The same rules apply to voir dire examina- tions as to cross-examinations. We next proceed to consider what you should do in the conduct of your cross-examinations. CROSS-EXAMINATION. " Cross-examination is commonly esteemed the severest test of an Advocate's skill, and perhajis it demands, beyond any other of his duties, the exercise of his ingenuity. But the experienced will doubt whether, upon the whole, it is so difficult to do ivell as an examination- in-chief, and certainly it is more frequently well done, although this EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 325 may not improbably result from the prevalent notion that examina- tion-in-chief is an easy matter, which any body can do, while cross- examination is extremely difficult, and therefore the Advocates, and especially young Advocates, perform the one carelessly, while they put forth all their powers for the accomplishment of the other. Do not understand, however, that we are unconscious of the difficulty of conducting a cross-examination with creditable skill. It is undoubted- ly a great intellectual effi^rt ; it is the direct conflict of mind with mind ; it demands, not merely much knowledge of the human mind, its faculties, and their modus operandi, to be learned only by reading, reflection and observation, but much experience of man and his mo- tives, as derived from intercourse with various classes and many per- sons, and, above all, by that practical experience in the art of dealing with witnesses which is more worth than all other knowledge ; which other knowledge will materially assist, but without which no amount of study will suffice to accomplish an Advocate. To the on-looker, a cross-examination has much more of interest, for it is more in the nature of a combat, with the excitement that always attends a combat of any kind, physical or intellectual ; it is man against man, mind wrestling with mind. Whereas, in examination-in-chief, the Advocate and his witness have the appearance, at least, of being allies, and whatever skill the former is required to exercise for the attainment of his object, needs to be concealed, and is seldom apparent to a mere spectator, however it may be recognized and appreciated by those who are engaged with him in the cause, and Avho know with what exquisite tact he has elicited just what he desired, and suppressed that which he wanted not to reveal. TWO STYLES OF CROSS-EXAMINATION. There are two styles of cross-examination, which Ave may term the savage style, and the smiling style. The aim of the savage style is to terrify the witness into telling the truth ; the aim of the smiling style is to win him to a confession. The former is by far the most frequently in use, but its use is a great mistake. The passions rouse the passions. Anger, real or assumed, kindles anger. An attack stimulates to defiance. By showing susj^icion of a witness, you in- sult his self-love — you make him your enemy at once — you arm his resolution to resist you — to defy you — to tell you no more than he is obliged to tell — to defeat you, if he can. Undoubtedly there are cases where such a tone is called for ; where it is politic as well as just ; but they arc rare, so rare that they should be deemed entirely exceptional. In every part of an Advocate's career, good temper 326 APPENDIX. and self-command are essential qualifications ; but in none more so than in the practice of cross-examination. It is marvellous how much may be accomplished with the most difficult witness simply by good humor and a smile ; a tone of friendliness will often succeed in obtain- ing a reply which has been obstinately denied to a surly aspect and a threatening or reproachful voice. As a general rule, suV)ject to such very rare exceptions as scarcely to enter into your calculations, you should begin your cross-examination with an encouraging look, and manner, and phrase. Remember that the witness knows you to be on the other side ; he is prepared to deal with you as an enemy ; he anticipates a badgering ; he thinks you are going to trip him up, if you can ; he has, more or less, girded himself for the strife. It is amusing to mark the instant change in the demeanor of most wit- nesses, when their own counsel has resumed his seat and the Advocate on the other side rises to cross-examine. The position, the counte- nance, plainly show what is passing in the mind. Either there is fear, or, more often, defiance. If you look fierce and speak sternly, it is just what had been expected, and you are met by corresponding acts of self-defense. But if, instead of this, you wear a pleasant smile, speak in a kindly tone, use the language of a friendly ques- tioner, appear to give him credit for a desire to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, you surprise, you disarm him ; it was not what he had anticipated ; and he answers frankly your questions. But where shall you begin? What order shall you follow? Shall you carry him again through the narrative given in his ex- amination-in-chief, or begin at the end of it and go backwards, or dodge him about, now here, now there, without method ? Each of these plans has its advantages, and perhaps each should be adopted, according to circumstances. >'EVER CROSS-EXAMINE WITHOUT AX OBJECT. But you cannot determine which course to adopt unless you have some definite design in the questions you are about to put. A mere aimless, haphazard cross-examination is a fault every Advocate should strenuously guard against. It is far better to say nothing than to risk the consequence of random shots, which may as often wound your friends as your opponents. Very little experience will assure you that there is no error so common as this. Some pei'sons seem to suppose that their credit is concerned in getting up a cross- examination, and they look upon the dismissal of a witness wiihout it as if it were an opportunity lost, and they feared that clients would attribute it, not so much to prudence as to conscious incapacity. So EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 327 they rise and put a number of questions that do not concern the issue, and perhaps elicit something more damaging to their own cause than anything the other side has brought out, and the result is, that they leave their client in a far worse condition than before. Let it be a rule with you never to cross-examine unless to gain some distinct ohject. Far better be mute through the whole trial, dismissing every witness without a word, than, for the mere sake of opjiearanccs, to ply them with questions not the result of a puri^ose. First resolve whether you will cross-examine at all. It is impos- sible to prescribe any rules to guide you in this, so much must depend upon the particular circumstances of each case. You must rely upon your own sagacity, on a hasty review of what the witness has said — how his testimony has aifected your case, and what probability there is of your weakening what he has said. If he has said nothing mate- rial, usually the safer course is to let him go without a question, unless indeed, you are instructed that he can give some testimony in your favor or damaging to the party who has called him, and then you should proceed to draw that out of him. But unless so instructed, you should not, on some mere vague suspicions of your own, or in hope of hitting a blot somewhere by accident, incur the hazard of eliciting something damaging to you, — a result to be seen every day in our courts. So, as a general rule, it is dangerous to cross-examine Avitnesses called for mere formal proofs, as to prove signatures, at- testations, copies and such like. Still, such witnesses are not to be immediately dismissed, for you should first consider if there be any similar parts of your case which they may prove, so as to save a wit- ness to you, and then you should carefully confine yourself to the pur- pose for which you have detained them. THREE OBJECTS OF CROSS-EXAMINATION. In resolving whether or not to cross-examine a witness, it is neces- sary to remember that there can be but three objects in cross-exami- nation. It is designed either to destroy or weaken the force of the evidence the witness has already given against you, or to elicit some- thing in your favor, which he has not stated, or to discredit him, by showing to the jury, from his past history or j^resent demeanor, that he is unworthy of belief. Never should you enter upon a cross-ex- amination without having a clear purpose to pursue one or all of these objects. If you have no such purpose, keep quiet. Let us consider each of these objects of cross-examination sepa- rately. 1st. To destroy or weaken the force of his testimony in favor of the 328 APPENDIX. other side. If this be your design, you can attain it only by one of two processes. You must show from the witness' own lips, either that what he has stated is false, or that it is capable of ezjjlanation. If your opinion be that he is honest, but prejudiced ; that he is mis- taken ; that he has formed a too hasty judgment, and so forth, your .bearing towards him cannot be too gentle, kind and conciliatory. Approach hiiii with a smile, encourage him with a cheering word, assure him that you are satisfied that he intends to tell the truth, and the whole truth, and having thus won his good-will and confidence, proceed slowly, quietly, and in a tone as conversational as possible, to your object. Do not approach it too suddenly, or you will chance to frighten him with that which forms the greatest impediment to the discovery of the truth from a witness, the dread of apjjearinc/ to con- tradict himself. If once this alarm be kindled, it is extremely diffi- cult to procure plain, unequivocal answers. The witness forthwith places himself on the defensive, and, deeming you an enemy, fences you with more or less of skill, certainly, but always to the weaken- ing of whatever may drop from him in t/onr favor. With such a witness, of whose candor you are seeking to avail yourself, the better course is to begin with the beginning of the story he has told, and conduct him through it again in the same order, only introducing at the right places the questions which are intended to explain or qualify what he has stated in his examination-in-chief. The advantage of this course is the avoidance of any appearance of a surprise upon him. You take him into his former track — you even make him repeat a portion of what he has before said — you recall his mind to the sub- ject with which it is familiar. The scene is again before him, occupy- ing his thoughts. Then, it is easy to try him upon the details (but still gently), to suggest whether it may not have differed by so and so from that which he has described, or if so and so (which gives the transaction another complexion) did not occur also, and thus at more or less length, according to the circumstances of the case. And here, at the very outset, let us warn you against exhibiting any kind of emotion during cross-examination ; especially to avoid the slightest show of exultation when the witness answers to your sagacious touch, and reveals what apparently he intended to conceal. , It startles him into self-command and closes the j^ortal of his mind against you more closely than ever. You have jiut him upon his guard and defeated yourself. Let the most important answer appear to be received as calmly and unconsciously as if it were the most trivial of gossip. In the same manner you may carry him to the conclusion of his EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 329 story, and what with an explanation of one fact, and addition to an- other, and a toniny down of the color of the whole, the evidence will usually appear in a very different aspect, after a judicious cross-exami- nation, from that which it wore at the close of the examination-in- chief. Thus you should deal with a witness whom you believe to be truthful, and therefore from whom you propose only to elicit explan- ations and facts in your favor, which the opposite counsel has not, of course, assisted him to disclose. If you suspect that some of the statements of the witness arc false in fact, although not willfully mis-stated, — errors of the senses, of the imagination, of the memory, — so much more frequent than they whose occupation has not been to sift and weigh the worth of evidence might suppose, — your task becomes a very difficult one ; for without in any manner charging him with peijury, or desiring to have it understood that you do otherwise than believe him to be an honest witness, you have to prevail upon him to confess that which will wear the aspect of falsehood. Now, there is nothing upon which witnesses of every giade of rank and intellect are so sensitive as self-contradiction. They sus- pect your purpose instantly, and the dread of being made to appear as lying, while often producing contradictions and evasions, more often arms the resolution of the witness to adhere to his original statement, without qualification or explanation. When, therefore, it is your purpose to show from the witness' own lips that he was mis- taken, the extremest caution is required in approaching him. You must wear an open brow, and assume a kindly tone. Let there be in your language no sound of- suspicion. Intimate to him delicately your confidence that he is desirous of telling the truth and the whole truth. Be careful not to frighten him by point-blank questions going at once to involve him in a contradiction, or he will see your design, and thwart it by a resolute adhesion to his first assertion. You must approach the object under cover, opening with some questions that relate to other matter, and then gradually coming round to the de- sired point. And even when you have neared the desired point, you must endeavor, by every device your ingenuity can suggest, to avoid the direct question, the answer to which necessarily and obviously involves the contradiction. The safer and surer course is to biing out the discrepancy by inference, that is, instead of seeking to make the witness unsay what he has said, it should be your aim to elicit a statement which may be shown by argument to be inconsistent with the former statement. 23 330 APPEimix. NEVER SEEK TO ENTRAP WITNESS. But it must be understood that, in all this, your only purpose should be, to ascertain the very truth — to trace an error, if it exists — to try the memory of the witness, if it be trustworthy. Never should you seek to entrap him into a falsehood, nor, by your art, to throw him into perplexity, with a design to discredit him, if you believe that not only is he honest, but that he has not erred. Your duty as an Advocate is strictly limited by the rules of morality. It is no more permissible for you to tamper with the truth in others, or tempt them to confound or conceal it, than to be false yourself. The art to be practiced in cross-examination is to be used only when you believe that the witness has not told the truth, and to elicit the truth is to be your sole purpose. DIFFICULT TO PROCURE CONTRADICTION. An explanation is less difficult to be procured from a witness than is a contradiction ; because in the case of an explanation the witness has not the fear of being presented in the aspect of one who is per- jured. A witness conscious that he has been induced in the exami- nation-in-chief to say too mucli, will often seize the opportunity afforded by cross-examination to modify his assertions. If you see this tendency, you have only to encourage it by falling in with his mood, and carefully avoiding anything calculated to make hirn fear the use to which you may put his admissions. If there be no such tendency, then your coui'se will be the reverse of that to be pursued when you are seeking for contradictions. Instead of avoiding the point, you should go at once to that part of the evidence, repeat the very question, and when you have received the same reply, follow it with a series of questions as to the circumstances, which, as you are instructed, go to modify or explain the statements you are combat- ing. If you are satisfied that the witness is honest and truthful, you cannot put your questions too plainly ; let them be as leading as you can frame them, naming the fact, and in such a form that the answer shall be a plain " Yes," or " No." And here let us warn you to be cautious not to press your inquiries too far. Having obtained enough for your purpose, pass on. You may obtain too much. There is no more useful faculty in the practice of an Advocate than to know when he has done enough. Many more causes are lost by saying too much than by not saying enough. SECOND OBJECT OF CROSS-EXAMINATION. The second object of cross-examination is to elicit something in your EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 331 favor. The method of doing this depends upon the character of the witness. If you believe him to be honest and truthful, you may pro- ceed directly to the subject-matter of your inquiry, with plain, point-blank questions. But if you suspect that he will not readily state what he is aware will operate in your favor, you must ap- proach him with some of the precautions requisite for the cross-ex- amination of a witness who is not altogether trustworthy. But this distinction in the circumstances is to be observed. Here you are dealing with a witness from whom it is your intent to procure some evidence in your favor. You cannot discredit him, by showing him to be unworthy of belief, without losing the advantage of his testi- mony on your own behalf. Therefore you cannot venture to probe him by questions that might lead to contradictions. How, then, may you attain your end ? You can only do so by gradual approaches. The plain direct questions which best elicit the truth from the witness desirous of telling the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, would, to a witness who desires to suppress some of the truth, operate as a signal for silence. With such an one the surest course is, by almost impercepti- ble degrees, to conduct him to the end. Elicit one small fact, per- haps but remotely connected with the main object of your inquiry. He may not see the chain of connection, and will answer that ques- tion freely ; or deem it not worth evading. A very small admission usually requires another to confirm or explain it. Having said so much, the witness cannot stop there ; he must go ou in self-defense, and thas, by julicious approaches, you bring him to the main point. Even if then he should turn upon you, and say no more, you will have done enough to satisfy the jury that his silence is as significant as would have been his confession. PROFITING BY WITNESs' SILENCE. It may be remarked here that good generalship may be often shown in skillfully availing himself of the silence of a witness. A refusal to answer, or an evasion of your question, will frequently be more serviceable to you than words. On such occasions, when as- sured of the advantage with which you can employ in your argument to the jury that reluctance to reply, you will not, after having plied him fairly, continue to urge him ; but having done enough to satisfy the Court that he can, if he pleases, say something more, you should withdraw, and then you may suggest such inferences from his silence as may be most advantageous to your cause. It is a frequent and fatal fault of an Advocate to insist on an answer in words to every 332 APPENDIX. question put, forgetting that the auswer may ba injurious, while the silence may be more than suggestive of all that is designed to be elicited. UNFAVORABLE ANSWER OF WITNESS. The most cautious cross-examination will not always prevent the disagreeable incident of an answer that tells strongly against the questioner. ^Yheu such a contre-temps occurs to you do not appear to be taken by surprise. Lat neither countenance, nor tone of voice, Bor expression of annoyance, show you are conscious of being taken aback. If others exhibit surprise, be you as calm and appear as satisfied as if you had expected the answer in question. Thus you will repel the force of the blow, for, seeing that you are not per- plexed by it, the audience may suppose it not to be so important as they deemed it to be, or they give you credit for some profounder purpose than is apparent, or that you are prepared with a contradic- tion or an explanation. Sometimes, indeed, where the blow has been more than usually staggering, it may not be bad policy to weaken its force by openly making light of it, repeating it, taking a note of it, or appending a joke to it. At no time is self-command more re- quisite to an Advocate than at such a moment, and never is the con- trast between experience, and inexperience, the prudent and the in- judicious, more palpably exhibited. GOVERNING PRINCIPLE IN AN EXAMINATION. The principle, then, that should govern your conduct in dealing with an adverse witness, with a view to discredit him, should be that which you would recognize in your private capacity as a Christian gentleman, and which may be summed up in three words — Justice, Truth, Charity. You have no right to tempt, to terrify, or entrap him into falsehood. You have no right to charge him with falsehood, unless you are convinced that he is lying, and not that he is merely mistaken. Justice demands that you deal with him as you would be dealt with were you the witness and he the advocate. Truth de- mands that you make no endeavor to misrepresent him, or to dis- tort the meaning of his words, contrary to your own conviction of his honesty. Charity demands that you put upon his evidence the construction most accordant with good intentions. WHEN art may be USED AGAINST WITNESS. Only when you are persuaded that the witness is not telling the truth, may you with propriety use your art to entrap him into con- tradictions, or charge him with falsehood. And, indeed, rarely is EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 333 any thing to he gained by such prostitution of the abilities of the Ad- vocate as that against which we are warning you. In fact, witnesses do not deliberately lie so frequently as the inexperienced are wont to believe. Downright, intended, conscious jjerjurt/, occurs but seldom. PERJURY LESS FREQUENT THAN MISTAKE. But, on the other hand, experience will teach you that evidence is far less trustworthy than the public, or juries who represent the pub- lic, suppose it to be. There is much less of ^je/jz/ry, and vastly more of mistake, in witnesses, than the imaccustomed observer would imagine to be possible, unless he had studied the physiology of the mind, and had thence learned how" manifold are the sources of error, and how imperfect is the sense that conveys the knowledge of facts, and the understanding that tries, and proves and applies it. To the Advocate, however, it is of vital importance that he should attain to the full comprehension of this truth, for it must be the guiding star of his conduct in the cross-examination of witnesses. The consciousness of it will govern his words, his voice, his manner ; change the tone of mistrust into that of confidence; the language of rebuke into that of kindness ; the eye that flashes anger and kiudles defiance into the look that wins to frankness. WHAT IS MEANT BY DISCREDITING WITNESS. Do not let us be misunderstood in the use of the phrase, to dis- credit a witness. We do not mean by this the vulgar notion of dis- crediting by making him appear to be jperjured. Our meaning is simply to show, by cross-examination, that his evidence is not to be implicitly believed ; that he is mistaken in the whole or in parts of it. By adopting this manner of dealing, you not only act in strict accordance with justice, truth, and charity, but, you are far more likely to attain your object than by charging willful falsehood and per- jury, by which course, if you foil to impress the jury, you endanger your cause. It not unfrequently happens that a charge of perjury against the witnesses on the other side, induces the jury to make the trial a question of the honor of the witnesses, instead of the issue on ths record. They say, " If we find for the defendant, after what has been said by his counsel .against the plaintitf's Avitnesscs, we shall be confirming his assertion that they are perjured, which we do not be- lieve ; " and so, to save the characters of their neighbors, whom they be- lieve to be unjustly impugned, they give a verdict against the assailant. In truth, without imputing perjury, you will find an ample field for trying the testimony of a witness by cross-examination, and of 334 APPENDIX. showing to the jury its weakness or worthlessness, by bringing into play all that knowledge of the physiology of mind and of the value of evidence which it is presumed that you have acquired in your training for the office of an Advocate. Thus armed, you will ex- perience no difficulty in applying the various tests by which the truth is tried, with much more of command over the witness and vastly more of influence with the jury, who will always acknowledge the probability of mistake in a witness, when they will not believe him to be perjured. And do not adopt this course as if it were an art, a contrivance, but frankly and fully, with entire confidence in its policy as well as its rectitude, so that no lurking doubt may betray itself in your manner, to throw a suspicion on your sincerity. A sober quietness, an expression of good temper, a certain friend- liness of look and manner, which will be understood, although it can- not be described, should distinguish you when you commence the cross-examination of a witness, the truth of whose testimony you are going to try, not by the vulgar arts of brow-beating, misrepresent- ing, insulting, and frightening into contradictions, but by the more fair, more honorable, and more successful, if more difficult, method of showing him to be mistaken. You must begin with conciliation ; you must remove the fear which the most truthful witness feels when about to be subjected to the ordeal of cross-examination. Let him understand, as soon as possible, that you are not about to insult him nor to entrap him into falsehood, nor to take unfair advantages of him ; that you have confidence in his desire to tell the truth and all the truth, and that your object is to ascertain the precise limits of truth in the story he has told. THIRD OBJECT OF CROSS-EXAMINATION. The third object of cross-examination is to discredit the witness, and, to accomplish this, proceed very gently, and only, as it were, with the fringe of the case, until you see that the witness is re-as- sured, and that a good understanding has been established between you, to which a smiling question that elicits a smiling answer will be found materially to contribute. A witness who stubbornly resists every other advance on the part of the Advocate, will often yield at once to a good-humored remark that compels the lips to curl. This point gained, you may at once proceed to your object. The other purposes of cross-examination have been previously explained. We are now considering only what is to be done when the design is to discredit the testimony, not by discrediting the wit- ness, but by showing that he is mistaken ; that he has been himself EXAMINATIOK OF A WITNESS. 335 deceived. Now, the way to do this is by closely inquiring into the sources of his knowledge ; and here it is that so much analytical skill, so intimate an acquaintance with mind and its operations, is de- manded on your part, and that you should avert resistance to your inquiries on the part of the witness. Perhaps it is unnecessary to inform you that it is useless to put to a witness directly the question, if he is sure that the fact was as he has stated it. He will only be the more positive. No witness will ever admit that he could have been mistaken. This is shown re- markably in cases where personal identity is in question. Every body admits that there is nothing upon which all persons are so often mistaken ; yet is there nothing upon which witnesses are more posi- tive, and that positiveness is continually influencing inconsiderate juries to erroneous verdicts, as the records of our criminal law pain- fully prove ; for of the wrongful convictions, fully one half have been cases of mistaken identity, in which witnesses have been too positive, and juries too confiding, in a matter which their own daily experience should satisfy them to be, of all others, the most dubious and unsatisfactory. Instead, therefore, of asking the witness whether he might not be mistaken, you should proceed at once to discover the probabilities of mistake, by tracing the sources of his knowledge, and by eliciting all the circumstances, internal and external, under which it was formed. It is in this operation that the faculties of the skillful Advocate are displayed ; this it is that calls into play his acquaintance with mental physiology, his experience of men and things, and in which he exhibits his superiority over the imperfectly educated and-the inexperienced. HOW TO SHOW WITNESS IS MISTAKEN. By what process do you perform this difficult duty, and achieve this triumph of your art? Let us endeavor to describe it. The witness has detailed an occurrence at a certain time and place, and it is your purpose to show that he was mistaken in some of the particulars, and that the inferences he drew from them were incorrect, or not justified by the facts. Your first proceeding to this 'end, is to realize the scene in your own mind. Your fancy must paint for you a picture of the place, the persons, the accessories. You then ask the witness to repeat his story — you note its congruity or otherwise with the circumstances that accompanied it ; you detect improbabilities or impossibilities. You see as he saw, and you learn in what particulars he saw imperfectly, and how he formed too hasty conclusions ; how prejudice nuiy have influenced him ; how 336 APPENDIX. tilings dimly seen were by the imagination transformed into other things in his memory. How erring the senses are, and how much their impressions are afterward moulded by the mind ; how very fallible is information, seemingly the most assured, it needs no extensive observation to teach. If you make inquiry as to an occurrence in the next street, ten minutes after it has happened, and from half a dozen actual spec- tators of it, you will receive as many different accounts of its de- tails, and yet each one positive as to the truth of his own narrative, and the error of his neighbor's. It is so with all testimony ; and hence, whatever depends upon the senses or the momory of a wit- ness, however honest and truth-speaking he may be in intention, is fairly open to doubt, to question, to investigation, and to denial, for the purpose of showing that it ought not to be relied upon, and that it may have, upon the question under consideration, a bearing alto- gether different from that for which it was employed by the party who adduced it. TO DISCOVER SOURCE OF WITNESs' MISTAKE. But it is not enough to ascertain that the witness is mistaken ; to satisfy the jury, when you come to comment upon his evidence, you must learn whence the mistake arose, and you should not leave him until you have attained your object. Sometimes you may procure this from the witness' mouth, thus : — Having gathered fi-om his de- scription that, in the circumstances of place or time, or otherwise, as the case may be, it was impossible or improbable that he could have seen or heard enough to justify his positive conclusion, you may plainly put to him the question, how it is that, being so situated, he could have so seen or heard 1 This will usually elicit an explanation that will at once be a confession of his mistake and a discovery of its cause. Caution is nevertheless necessary in this proceeding, and it should be resorted to only when other means have failed ; for, having ascer- tained to your own satisfaction the mistakes of the Avitness and the facts that prove them to be mistakes, the exhibition of them will come with far better effect in your address to the jury, Avhen lucidly dis-' played in argument, than when evolved bit by bit in the course of a long examination. Usually, it will be sufficient for you that you have thQ fact. Besides, it is well that the witness himself is not made con- scious of detected error, lest, fearing to have his veracity impugned, he should close his mind against you, and resist further investigation into the parts of his story which yet remain to be told. EXAMrNATION OF A WITNESS. 337 DEALING WITH FALSE WITNESS. The art of cross-examiiication, however, is not limited to the detec- tion of mistakes in a witness. Sometimes it happens that you have good reason to believe that he is not mistaken, but that he is lying ; and when you are assured of this, but not otherwise, you may treat him as a liar, and deal with him accordingly. Your object will now be to prove him to be a liar out*of his own mouth, and it will be per- missible to resort to many a stratagem for the purpose of detection, which might not be fairly used towards a witness whom you believe to be honest, but mistaken. The question occurs whether it is more prudent to show such a witness that you suspect him, or to conceal your doubts of his hon- esty ? Either course has its advantages and disadvantages. By dis- playing your doubts, you incur the risk of setting him upon his guard, and leading him to be more positive in his assertions and more cir- cumspect in his answers ; but, on the other hand, a conscious liar is almost always a moral coward ; when he sees that he is detected, he can rarely muster courage to do more than reiterate his assertion ; he has not the presence of mind to carry out the story by ingenious inven- tion of details, and a consistent narrative of accidental circumstances connected with it. A cautious concealment of your suspicions pos- sesses the advantage of enabling you to conduct him into a labyrinth before he is aware of your design, and so to expose his falsehood by self-contradictions and absurdities. Perhaps either course might be adopted, according to the character of the witness. If he is a cool, shrewd fellow, it may be more prudent to conceal from him your doubts of his veracity, until he has furnished you with the proof. If he is one of that numerous class who have merely got up a story to which they doggedly adhere, it may be wise to awe him at once, by notice that you do not believe him, and that you do not intend to spare him. We have often seen such a witness surrender at discre- tion on the first intimation of such an ordeal. This is one of the arts of advocacy which cannot be taught by anything but experience. It is to be learned only by the language of the eye, the countenance, the tones of the voice, that betray to the practiced observer what is pass- ing in the mind within. But having resolved upon your course, pursue it resolutely. Be not deterred by findng your attacks parried at first. Persevere until you have attained your object, or are convinced that your impression was wrong, and that the witness is telling the truth. If you determine to adopt the course of hiding from him your doubts, be careful not to betray doubt by your face nor by tone of voice. A good Advocate is 338 APPENDIX. a good actor, and it is one of the faculties of an actor to command his countenance. Open gently, mildly ; do not appear to doubt the wit- ness ; go at once to the marrow of the story he has told, as if you were not afraid of it ; make him repeat it ; then carry him away to some distant and collateral topic, and try his memory upon thai, so as to divert his thoughts from the main object of your inquiry, and prevent his seeing the connection between the tale he has told and the questions you are about to put to him. Then, by slow approaches; bring him back to the main circumstances, by the investigation of which it is that you purpose to show the falsity of the story. The design of this manoeuvre is, of course, to prevent him from seeing the connection between his own story and your examination, so that he may not draw upon his imagination for explanations con- sistent with his original evidence; your design being to elicit incon- sistency and contradictions between the story itself and other circum- stances, from which it may be concluded that it is a fabrication. INSTANCE OF DETECTION OF FALSE WITNESS. As a specimen of the sort of cross-examination to which we refer : In a case of affiliation of a bastard child, the mother had sworn dis- tinctly and positively to the person of the flither, and to the time and place of their acquaintance, fixed, as usual, at precisely the proper period before the birth of the child. In this case, the time sworn to was the middle of May ; and the place, the putative father's garden ; for an hour the witness endured the strictest cross-examination that in- genuity could suggest ; she was not to be shaken in any material part of her story : she had learned it well, and with the persistence that makes women such difficult witnesses to defeat, she adhered to it. She was not to be thrown off her guard by a question for which she was not prepared, and the examination proceeded thus : — '• You say you walked in the garden with Mr. M. ? Yes. Before your connection with him? Yes. More than once ? Yes; several times. Did you do so afterwards % No. Never once ? No. Is there fruit in the garden 1 Yes. I suppose you were not allowed to pick any % Oh ! yes ; he used to give me some. What fruit ? Currants and raspber- ries. Ripe ? Yes." This was enough. She was detected at once. The alleged inter- course was in the middle of May. Currants and raspberries are not ripe till June. In this case the woman's whole story was untrue. She had fallen in with the suggestion about fruit, to strengthen, as she thought, her account of the garden. But she did not perceive the drift of the qnestions, and consequently had not sufficient self-com- mand to reflect that the fruit named was not ripe in May. EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 339 This will serve as an illustration of the manner in which the most acute witness may be detected in a lie. But patience in t-he pursuit is always necessary. You may be baffled once and again, but be careful never to let it be seen that you are baffled. Glide quietly into another track, and try another approach ; you can scarcely fail of success at last. No false witness is armed at all points. But, in this process, somewhat tedious, it is true, to yourself, and not always comprehended by others, the art of the witness will not be the only nor the severest trial of your temper. Too often you will find the Judge complaining of the tediousness of repetition. He does not always see your drift, and, especially, if you are young, he is apt to conclude that you are putting questions at random, and to refuse you credit for a meaning and a design in your queries. You must, in such case, firmly but respectfully assert your right to conduct your examination after your own fashion, and proceed, without per- turbation, in the path your deliberate judgment has prescribed. Your duty is to your client, and you must discharge it fearlessly, leaving to the event and to experience to vindicate your motives and prove the wisdom of your conduct. After a while the Judge will dis- cover that you do not act without a sufficient reason, and that you have a design in your cross-examination'. It must, however, be con- fessed that cross-examination is so often conducted at random, with- out aim, or plan or purpose, as if for the mere sake of saying some- thing, that Judges may well be excused for suspecting a divergent course in a junior, and attributing to inexj^eriencc a string of questions which are in fact the result of profound deliberation and design. OPEN ATTACK UPON WITNESS. If, however, you adopt the other course, and, instead of surprising the witness into the betrayal of his falsehood, you resolve to bring it out of him by a bold and open attack — to awe him, as it were, into honesty — aspect and voice must express your consciousness of his l^erjury, and your resolve to have the truth. A stern, determined fixing of your eye upon his, will often suffice to unserve him, and it will certainly help you to assure yourself whether your suspicions are just or unjust. It may be stated, as a general rule, that a witness who is lying will not look you fully in the fiice, Avith a steady gaze ; his eye quivers and turns away ; is cast down, and wanders restlessly about. On the contrary, the witness who is speaking the truth, or Mhat he believes to be the truth, will meet your gazo, how- ever timidly ; will look at you when he answers your questions, and 340 APPEJfDIX. will let you look into his eyes. There may be exceptions to this rule, but it rarely fails to inform the Advocate whether the person subject to cross-examination is the witness of truth or of folsehood. Thus assured, and pursuing your plan of bold attack, there needs to be no circumlocution, no gradual approaching, as in the other method of surprisal, but go straightway to your object, plunging the witness at once into the story you are questioning. Make him repeat it slowly. It will often be that, under the discomposure of your detection of his purpose, he will directly vary from his former state- ment, and if he does so in material points, which are sufficient to dis- credit him, it will usually be the more prudent course to leave him there, self-condemned, instead of continuing the examination, lest you should give him time to rally, and perhaps contrive a story that will explain away his contradictions. If, however, his lesson is well learned, and he repeats the narrative very nearly as at first, you will have to try another course, which will tax your ingenuity and patience. Procure from him in detail, and let his words be taken down, the particulars of his story, and then question him as to associated cir- cumstances as to which he is not likely to have prepared himself, and to answer which, therefore, he must draw on his invention at the in- stant. Some ingenuity will be necessary on your part, after surveying his story, to select the wealfest points for your experiment, and to suggest the circumstances least likely to have been pre-arranged. Hav- ing obtained his answers, permit him no pause, but instantly take him to a new subject ; lead his thoughts away altogether from the mat- ter of your main topic. The more irrelevant your queries the better ; your purpose is to occupy his mind with a new train of ideas. Con- duct him to diiferent places and persons and events. Then, as sud- denly, in the very midst of your questionings, when his mind is the most remote from the subject, when he is expecting the next question to relate to the one that has gone before, suddenly return to your first point, not repeating the main story, for this, having been well learned, will probably be repeated as before, but to those circum- stances associated with it upon which you had surprised him into invention on the moment. It is probable that, after such a diversion of his thoughts, he will have forgotten what his answers were, what were the fictions with which he had filled up the accessories of his false narrative, and having no leisure allowed to him for reflection, he will now give a different account of them, and so betray his falsehood. Of all the arts of cross-examination, there is none so efficient as this for the detection of a lie. Another excellent plan is to take the witness through his story, EXAMINATIO:jir OF A WITNESS. 341 but not in the same order of incidents in which he told it. Dislocate his train of ideas, and you put him out ; you disturb liis memory of his lesson. Thus begin your cross-examination at the middle of his narrative, then jump to one end, then to some other part the most remote from the subject of the previous question. If he is telling the truth, this will not confuse him, because he speaks from impressions upon his mind; but if he is lying, he Avill be perplexed and will be- tray himself, for, speaking from the memory only, which acts by associ- ation, you disturb that association, and his invention breaks down. When you are satisfied that the witness is drawing upon his in- vention, there is no more certain process of detection than a rapid fire of questions. Give him no pause between them ; no breathing place, nor point to rally. Few minds are sufficiently self-possessed as, under such a catechising, to maintain a consistent story. If there be a pause or a hesitation in the answer, you thereby lay bare the falsehood. The witness is conscious that he dares not to stop to think whether the answer he is about to give will be consistent with the answers already given, and he is betrayed by his contradictions. In this pro- cess it necessary to fix him to time, and place and names. " You heard him say so ?" " When ?" " Where ]" " Who was present f " Name them." "Name one of them." Such astringof questions, following one upon the other as fast as the answer is given, will frequently confound the most audacious. Fit names, and times and places, are not readily invented, or if invented, not readily remembered. Nor does the objection apply to this, that may undoubtedly be urged against some others of the arts by which an Advocate detects falsehood, namely, that it is liable to perplex the innocent, as well as to confound the guilty; for if the tale be true, the answers to such questions present themselves instantaneously to the witness' lips. They are so asso- ciated in his mind with the main fiict to which he is speaking, that it is impossible to recall the one without the other. Collateral circum- stances may be forgotten by the most truthful, or even be unobserved ; but time, place and audience are a part of the transaction, without which, memory of the fact itself can scarcely exist. DISCREPANCIES AND DIFFERENCES IN TESTIMONY. There is no branch of our subject on which a wider difference of opinion prevails than upon the weight to be given to variations by a witness in the telling of a story — counsel usually dwelling upon them as evidences of falsehood, and judges almost always directing the jury that they are rather evidences of honesty. It may be useful, in this place, to endeavor to reconcile these opposite conclusions of intelligent minds. 342 APPENDIX. Memory is association; ideas return linked together as they were originally presented to the mind, and the presence of one sum- mons the other by suggestion. An event is witnessed, and the scene and its accessories are impressed upon the mind. But it is only im- pressed there as the sjjeciator beheld it, and not necessarily as it was in reality. It is necessary to ascertain also the medium through which he saw or heard, before we can properly estimate the value of his memory. When called upon to bear testimony to the fact, if he desires to tell the truth, he will describe, as nearly as he, can in words, so much as he can recall of the circumstances. But it by no means follows, that, every time he recalls the scene, it should present itself to his mind in precisely the same aspect ; and for this reason, the mind does not revive the whole at once, but in succession, and some portions of it will come back more vividly at one time than at an- other, and, by their very viA'idness, recall other associations before unre- membered. Hence, differences in description, and especially new circumstances introduced into a repeated narrative, although each repetition should vary from all the former ones, by the addition of some things, and the omission of others, do not afford the slightest grounds for imputing perjury to a witness. On the contrary, they are rather a presumption in his favor, for an invention that is learned would probably be recalled as it was learned, with the same facts, and almost in the same words. But it is otherwise with discrepancies of statement. These cannot exist in a truthful narrrative. Repeated never so frequently, and whatever the variance in detail, the story will always be consistent with itself, and with its former assertions. A positive discrepancy is proof that whatever the cause, whether by design or by the not un- frequent delusion of mistaking imagination for reality, the witness is not speaking the truth, and therefore in such a case, be the motive what it may, an Advocate is justified in pointing out this discrepancy to the jury, and asserting that no faith can be placed in a narrative which thus contains within itself decisive evidence that some portion of it, at least, is not true. By bearing in mind the distinction between variances and discrepa7icies in the repetitions by a witness in the same story, the Judge and the Advocate may avoid those contradictions of assertion as to the worth of certain testimony, which sometimes shake the confidence of juries in arguments really deserving their considera- tion, and which are equally disagreeable to the speaker and to the commentator. Let the Advocate abstain from dwelling upon mere variances, and let the Judge, before he directs the jury the Advocate is wrong in his assertions, as cautiously assure himself that the objec- tions that have been urged are not to discrepancies but to differences. EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 343 REPETITION OF QUESTIONS. "We have already noticed the difficulty sometimes experienced by an Advocate, from the impatience of the Judge at repetitions of the same questions. Too often he is met with the remark, " Mr. , you have asked that question before," or, " The witness has already told you." This is doubly disagreeable, for besides putting you on ill terms with the Court, it disturbs your plans, and sets the witness on his guard. There is nothing of which the Bench is so little tolerant as of the repetition of the same question, and yet there are few more effective methods of detecting a falsehood. The witness answers. You note his answer. You pass away to some distant part of the story, or some foreign transaction. You then on a sudden return, when his thoughts have been otherwise engaged, when probably he has forgotten his first answer, if it was false, and you obtain a different one, which instantly betrays him. Often we have seen witnesses proof against all other tests fail before this one. When your design is distinctly this, and not merely a vague, purposeless interrogation, proceed respectfully but firmly to show that you have a meaning, and your aims will soon come to be understood and respected by the Court. ADJURATION TO WITNESS. Do not indulge too much in adjurations tp witnesses to speak the truth, reminding them continually that they are on their oaths, as " Now, Sir, upon your solemn oath ;" " Remember, you are upon oath, and take care what you say," and such like. If frequently in- troduced, they lose their force by repetition. They are very effective when judiciously employed, and uttered with due solemnity of tone and manner, and on fit occasions ; but they should not be put forward on every slight pretense, as well to frighten an honest as to awe a dis- honest witness. Reserve such an appeal for times when it may be used with effect, because with obvious propriety. When you believe that a witness is tampering with his conscience you may sometimes suc- cessfiilly prevent the contemplated perjury by a solemn appeal, and especially if you add to it an exhortation not to be hasty in his answer, but to think before he speaks. The countenance, the tone of the voice, the very attitude, should express the language you utter. You may word it somewhat after this fiishlon : " Remember, you have sworn to tell the truth and the whole truth. Now [put the question*, and add] think before you speak, and answer me truly as you have called God to witness your words." It is one of the faults common to young Advocates, that they make too free an use of this appeal to witnesses, wasting its worth by familiarity. 344 APPENDIX. WITNESS NOT REMEMBERING. Sometimes a wituess will not answer. He does not choose to know. He will not remember. He is obstinately ignorant. You are aware that he co^lld tell you a great deal, if he pleased, but he has reasons for forgetting. Such a witness will task jour skill and pa- tience. To conquer him you will need as much of patience as of art. The first rule is, to keep your temper; the second, to be as resolute as himself; the third, to discover his weak place : every person Itas some weak point, through which he is accessible. If you betray the slightest want of temper, the witness will have the advantage of you, for you will enlist his pride in defense of his determination. If you show him that you are resolved to have an answer, you will shake him by the influence which a strong will always obtains over a Aveaker one, and by that wonderful power which persistency never fails to exercise. To find out his weaknesses, you must peruse his character by the art which it is assumed you have cultivated — of reading the mind in the face. Then work him accordingly. The surest method is the smiling and jocose. Many a man who will with- stand unmoved a torrent of abuse, or rather become more obstinate under its influence, will surrender to a smiling face and a good-humor- ed joke. If these fail, there yet remains another resource, more difficult of appliance, and demanding the most consummate mastery of the art of cross-examination. You must now approach him by stratagem. Your object is to procure him to admit so much that he cannot help telling you the whole story. The difficulty of this con- sists in the extreme caution required to approach him so that your object shall not be perceptible to him ; so to frame your questions that he shall not see the coimection between the answer he is about to give and the confession you desire to abstract from him. In ap- pearance the questions must be dissevered from the immediate subject sought, but, in flict, they must be associated with it. The approach must be so gradually made as not to excite suspicion ; and perhaps it is well to open with something quite foreign to the subject-matter. Having obtained an answer, you put another query that appears nat- urally to follow from the former, and so on, until you link with the question something that is associated with the matter sought for. It is not easy for a witness to discover the links of such a chain, and he is sure to make some admissions that negative his alleged ignorance of the transaction, and compel him, having yielded so much, to sur- render the whole. EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 345 UNIMPORTANT DISCREPANCIES. Avoid the fault of seizing upon small and unimiiortant discrepan- cies. Experience teaches us that there are few who can tell the same story twice in precisely the same way, hut they will add or omit something, and even vary in the description of minute j^articulars. Indeed, a verbatim recital of the same tale by a witness is usually taken as proof that he is repeating a lesson rather than narrating facts seen. A discrepancy, to be of any value in discrediting a wit- ness, must be in some particular which, according to common ex- perience, a man is not likely to have observed so slightly as that he would give two different descriptions of it. Remember you are dealing with a jury composed of men who cannot understand re- fined distinctions, and have no respect for petty artifices and small triumphs over a witness' self-possession or memory, and that you will not win their verdict unless you show that the witness is not puzzled, but lying. WITNESS VOLUNTEERING TESTIMONY. When a witness, upon his examination-in-chief, anticipates the counsel, and, instead of waiting to be questioned, or after two or three questions have been put to him, proceeds to tell his whole story, and will go on in spite of every effort made to stop him, ob- serve him closely, to ascertain from his manner whether he is telling the truth, or merely repeating a lesson learned by heart. If satisfied that the witness is lying, you may, in your cross-ex- amination, endeavor to discredit him with the jury. Your attack ma}* be most successfully conducted thus : Without previous ques- tioning come at once to the point, and ask him to repeat his account of the transaction. He will do so in almost the self-same words, with the same aspect and manner, and in the same tone, differing palpably from his bearing, and tone, and language, before and after the episode. So certain is this test that, if it fails, you may fairly suppose that whatever other objections may be offered to the testimony, it is not a story repeated by rote. EXAMINATION OF PARTY TO SUIT. In the examination-in-chief you need observe no difference of con- duct toward a imrty to the suit and any other witness, excepting, perliaps, a little care to rein him in if he should appear to be too eager. But, in cross-examination, you must take into accoimt the fiict that a party has a strong bias of interest which may tempt him to tell a deliberate lie, but \\hich is much more likely to color his 23 346 APPENDIX. impressions, and produce 5f(/'-deceptiou. So that he may have the most confident belief in the truth of that which he is stating, and yet it may be false in fact. Therefore, where a party to the suit is a ■witness, you should subject him to the most rigid cross-examination, to test his accuracy. The manner of doing this will vary somewhat from that which has been suggested as applicable to other classes of witnesses. You may assume the existence of a strong prejudice and bias, but not, therefore, necessarily of an intention to deceive. Great caution will be required in dealing with him. You will have occasion to employ by turns all the tests of truth that have been already de- scribed. If the witness is manifestly desirous of speaking the truth, your course is clear. Let him see that such is your opinion of him. En- courage his honest intents by frank acknowledgments. If the exam- ination-in-chief has brought out only a port'on of the facts, it will be your business to supply the deficiencies and elicit the whole story. No ingenuity will be required for this with such a witness. You may advance directly to your object. He will give straightforward answers to your questions, and the more plain they are the more ready and full will be his replies. But such a witness is the most dangerous one to you. The same honesty which enables you to ob- tain a ready answer to your questions, and to elicit every circum- stance connected with the transaction, will carry conviction to the jury also, and his testimony will be received with unhesitating confi- dence. If, therefore, you do not expect to obtain from him some facts which may weaken your opponent's case, it will be more prudent not to cross-examine him at all, or only to put a few questions that have no bearing on the case, merely that you may not appear to have abandoned your cause. Tlie more truthful he is, the more likely it is that every answer you will obtain will make his case the stronger, and damage your case the more. But if you see that the witness is biased, you must employ some artifice. Direct questions will not suffice. You must approach him with caution, and indirectl}^. Begin by giving him credit for good intentions. Do not appear to mistrust him. Flatter him even with the assurance that you believe he desires to tell the whole truth. It is a great point to have him pleased with himself, for your purpose is, not only to unveil him to others, but to strip from his own eyes the veil of self-dece'ption, so that his vanity will be enlisted against you. Remind him, by your first question, that he is a party to the cause, and has the strongest interest in the result. Follow it with EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 347 the assurance of your own confidence, that, in spite of this bias, he desires to tell the whole truth ; but, although he has no intent to de- ceive, the truth is not as he has stated ; misled by his feelings or his interests, he has seen the truth only partially, or distorted, or falsely colored. Your duty is either to elicit the very truth as it was, or to show that, being thus self-deceived, his testimony is not to be relied upon. It is obvious that direct questioning will fail to effect this, for to a mere repetition of the question as to what he saw or heard, the same answer as before will be given. The only means of shaking such testimony is to show it to be inconsistent with other facts, or with those strong probabilities arising out of the usual order of things, the ready perception of which constitutes what is called common sense. It is in eliciting this inconsistency either with the rest of the story, or with the common sense of mankind, of Avhich a jury is generally a pretty fiiir representative, that the skill and ingenuity, aided by the experience of an Advocate, is demanded. There is no difference in this respect in the cross-examination of a party, and that of any other interested witness. In both instances the process will be the same ; to approach him by indirect and not by direct questions, and to employ all your efforts to elicit contradic- tions and inconsistencies between the facts positively asserted by the witness and other undoubted facts, or between his testimony and probability and common sense ; from which you may argue that no reliance can be placed upon the evidence, not because the witness has been guilty of perjury, or intends to deceive, but because he has fallen into error. This is an argument which rarely fails to convince, because it is in accordance with experience, and is infinitely more ef- fective than one, which imputes every mistake or misstatement to deliberate falsehood. In dealing with a pcwVy to the suit as a witness, you have this ad- vantage, that his testimony will be watched with more strictness, and subjected to a severer scrutiny, than would the evidence of an un- biased witness. REPEATING QUESTIONS ASKED ON DIRECT EXAMINATION. A Witness having already echoed the questions of his own counsel, and proved his own case, and being well prepared with that, he will of course repeat the lesson he has learned, without alteration or hesi- tation, and the more positively the more you press him ; therefore it is a waste of time and helping him more than yourself to repeat those self-same questions. Yet how often is this done. With a slight alteration of phrase and an attempt to be stern, counsel sometimes 348 APPENDIX. persist in repeating the very question which the witness has already distinctly answered. " Do you mean to tell the jury upon your oath that you heard him say sol" "Will you swear you saw Smith strike him? " and such liks; to which the answer is, "I have said so already," " I have sworn it." No other answer could be expected. The witness had come prepared to prove these very facts; and, although false, having once sworn to them he can not do otherwise than restate them, \iowever frequently the question may be repeated. This manner of proceeding is, therefore, worse than worthless, and you will at once direct your efforts to the eliciting oi contradictions — by which we do not mean trifling differences of phrase, or discrepan- cies in small matters, which the witness is not likely to have observed very accurately, and on which, therefore, his story might vary upon every repetition, without any intentional falsehood, but unquestion- able contradictions of statements, so obvious that the witness could not have believed both to be true. If he is lying, no presence of mind or ingenuity will enable him to escape from your pursuit, pro- vided you conduct it with proper skill, giving him no time for reflec- tion, and so engaging his attention that he shall not have leisure to digest his answers, or to see how they square with the story he has already told. THE TRUTH ALWAYS CONSISTENT WITH ITSELF. The principle of this manner of cross-examination is, that truth is always consistent with itself If the witness is telling the truth, his answers will be insubstantial accordance with the story he has already told, and with any questions that may be put to him. He has no need to consider their bearing, and therefore his reply is as prompt as memory. On the contrary, a witness who is telling a false story can rarely so construct it that it shall be consistent with other asso- ciated circumstances which it is impossible to anticipate. Hence it is that you must try the witness Ly questions on matters which only bear indirectly upon the point at issue. As, for instance, if he have sworn that on a certain day a certain person made to him a certain statement. You cannot directly shake the fact thus sworn to, for the witness has but to adhere to his assertion and he will baffle any amount of direct interrogation. But it is not at all likely that he has prepared himself with all the accompanying particulars; therefore you put such questions as these : Where was the conversation held ? At what time of the day % Who was present ? Were they sitting or standing ? How did he come to the place ? Whom did he meet on the way 1 How was he dressed — and the other party 1 Did EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 349 they speak loud or low ? Did they eat or drink together, and what? Did any body come in while they were talking? How long were they together ? When they parted which way did each take ? Whom did he meet afterward ? At what time did he reach his home ? and so forth, as the particular circumstances of the case may suggest, but always, if possible, preferring facts spoken to by other witnesses, so that you may expose him, not only by his self-contradic- tions, but by the testimony of others. When questions of this kind are rapidly put, they deprive the false witness of opportunity to fit them to his previous story. You should also carefully avoid putting them in any natural sequence of time or place, for that is to suggest to him a story which he will invent quite as rapidly as you can con- struct your questions. Dislocate them as much as possible. Take now one part of the story, then another. Dodge him backward and forward, from one object to the other, so that it shall be impossible for him to be prepared by one question for the next, or that one an- swer shall be the prompter of its successor. The difficulty of doing this well is very great, and therefore, perhaps, it is that it is so rarely seen to be well done ; but it is an accomplishment wanting which the Advocate is not a master of his art. FACTS OCCURRING IN PRESENCE OF WITNESSES ONLY. There is one kind of testimony which will sometimes baffle the utmost skill. It is the case of a witness who swears positively to some single fact, occurring when no other person was present, or but one now dead or far distant, and whom, therefore, it is impossible to contradict, and equally difficult to involve in selfcontradiction, be- cause all the circumstances may be true, except the one which he has been called to prove. In such a case, there remains only an appeal to the jury or judge to look with suspicion upon evidence so easily forged, so impossible to be disproved, and ask that its worth be tried by its intrinsic probabilities, showing, if you can, how improbable it is that such a statement should have been so made, or such a circumstance have oc- curred. THE RE-EXAMINATION. The object of re-examination is simply to obtain from the witness an explanation of that which he had said in cross-examination. The necessity for giving a witness such an opportunity proceeds from the system of eliciting evidence by means of questions. A witness does 350 APPENDIX. not tell his story without interruption, but he is required to answer the questions of counsel, and seldom permitted to do more, or to ac- company his answer with an explanation. A skillful advocate, in his cross-examination, avails himself of this to obtain such answers only as suit his purpose, excluding the explanations that might give them another meaning. It is the duty of the advocate on the other side to note such replies, and on re-examination to give to his witness the opportunity for explanation before denied to him. Hence the neces- sity for keeping an observant eye upon your witness while he is under cross-examination, so that you may discover any desire he may ex- hibit to give an explanation of an answer, or to add something that might modify its apparent import. Be especially careful to note all such upon your brief; also any answers that appear to be damaging, so that, upon re-examination, you may not leave any one unexplained. Experience will teach you by what signs a witness will indicate a de- sire to explain what he has said. If the witness exhibits no desire to explain, it is a dangerous duty to try if he can explain. NO NEW MATTER ON RE-EXAMINATION. It is a rule that you shall strictly confine yourself, in the re-ex- amination, to matters that have been mooted in the cross-examination. You are 7iot permitted to go into new matter. This is the only re- striction, for, if the subject has been touched upon, however slightly, by your adversary, you are entitled to go fully into it ; and hence it is that a skillful advocate is commonly enabled to make good use of the re-examination, for a cross-examination rarely omits to deal more or less with all the most important portions of a witness' testimony. Avoid seeking explanations where none can be given, for thus you injure your case by recalling the damaging answer and making it doubly impressive by reiteration. By a skillful use of the opportunities offered by the cross-examina- tion, you may elicit a repetition of the most important parts of the evidence-in-chief, as a set-oi^' against any unfavorable testimony ex- tracted by the cross-examination. RESTORATION OF WITNESSES. The business of re-examination is the restoration of your witness to the confidence of himself and of the jury. It frequently occurs that a witness has been terrified and confused by the cross-examina- tion, even to the loss of memory, or, which is even more dangerous, to the producing in him of an aspect and manner that might be mis- taken for conscious guilt. If, therefore, you detect in him any signs EXAMINATION OF A WITNESS. 351 of dissatisfaction Avith himself, your first care will be to revive his self-possession. To one sincerely desirous of telling the truth, no position is more painful than that into which he is sometimes be- trayed by seeming contradictions, elicited in the course of an inge- nious cross-examination, producing upon the audience the visible im- pression that he has been lying. In such circumstances it is difficult to be discreet and to preserve the temper unruffled. Let your first care be given to this. The witness burns for an opportunity to ex- plain himself; it will be yours to give it to him, but not in the hasty manner in which his feelings prompt him to deliver it, but in fit rea- son and form, as suits your discreeter purpose. Prevent this natural outburst by questions that will show your sympathy and assure him of your aid to set him right. Soothe his irritation by your words and aspect. When he is restored to himself, take him quietly through his story. Bring out, as far as you can, the strong 2>oints of his testi- mony, which has not been shaken on the cross-examination. When you come to some doubtfid matter, on which the cross-examination has damaged your witness, pass it by unnoticed unless satisfied that the witness can satisfactorily explain it. CONCLUSION. In conclusion we reiterate the caution, so often repeated, never to put a question to a witness without an aim, nor except you expect to derive some positive advantage from it. Leave a bad matter un- touched, unless you are sure that you can make it better. Where you cannot do good, you are almost certain to do harm. The Advo- cate's art may be shown equally in silence as in speaking. THEORIES AND FACTS. General experiential truths, such as we have just spoken of, are called Theories, and the particular observations from which they are collected, and which they include and explain, are called Facts. Thus Hipparchus' doctrine, that the sun moves in an eccentric about the earth, is his theory of the sun, or the Eccentric theory. The doctrine of Kepler, that the earth moves in an ellipse about the sun, is Kepler's theory of the earth, the Elliptic theory. Newton's doctrine that this elliptical motion of the earth about the sun is produced and governed by the sun's attraction upon the earth, is the Newtonian theory, the Theory of Attraction. Each of these theories was accepted, because it included, connected, and explained the facts; the facts being, in the two former cases, the motions of the sun as observed ; and in the other case, the elliptical motion of the earth as known by Kepler's theory. This antithesis of Theory and Fact is included in what has just been said of inductive propositions. A theory is an inductive proposition, and the facts are the particular observations from which, as I have said, such propositions are inferred by induction. The antithesis of theory and fact implies the fundamental antithesis of thoughts and things ; for a theory (that is, a true theory) may be de- scribed as a thought which is contemplated distinct from things and seen to agree with them ; while a fact is a combination of our thoughts with things in so complete agreement that we do not re- gard them as separate. Thus the antithesis of theory and fact involves the antithesis of thoughts and things, but is not identical with it. Facts involve thoughts, for we know facts only by thinking about them. The fact that the year consists of three hundred and sixty-five days, the fact that the month consists of thirty days, cannot be known to us, ex- cept we have the thoughts of time, number, and recurrence. But these thoughts are so familiar, that we have the fact in our mind as a simple thing without attending to the thoughts which it involves. When we mold our thoughts into a theory, we consider the thought as distinct from the facts ; but yet, though distinct, not independent of them ; for it is a true theory only by including and agreeing with THEORIES AND FACTS. 353 the facts (WliewelPs History of Scientific Ideas, vol. i. bk. i, part i. ch. i. s. 4). We have spoken of the common opposition of theory and foct as important, and as involving what we have called the fundamental antithesis of philosophy. But after all, it may be asked, is this distinc- tion of theory and fact really tenable? Is it not often difficult to say whether a special part of our knowledge is a fact or a theory ? Is it a fact or a theory that the stars revolve round the pole ? Is it a fact or a theory that the earth is a globe revolving on its axis ? Is it a fact or a theory that the earth travels in an ellipse round the sun? Is it a fact or a theory that the sun attracts the earth ? Is it a fact or a theory that the lodestone attracts the needle ? In all these cases, probably, some persons would answer one way, and some persons the other. There are many persons by whom the doctrine of the globular form of the earth, the doctrine of the earth's elliptical orbit, the doctrine of the sun's attraction on the earth, would be called theories, even if they allowed them to be true theories. But yet, if each of these propositions be true, is it not a fact? And even with regard to the simpler facts, as the motion of the stars round the pole, although this may be a fact to one who has watched and measured the motions of the stars, one who has not done this, and who has only carelessly looked at these stars from time to time, may naturally speak of the circles which the astronomer makes them describe as theories. It would seem, then, that we cannot in such cases expect general assent if we say, This is a fact and not a theory, or This is a theory and not a fact. And the same is true in a vast range of cases. It would seem, therefore, that we cannot rest any reasoning upon this distinction of theory and fact ; and we cannot avoid asking whether there is any real distinction in this antithesis, and if so, what it is. To this I reply, the distinction between theory (that is, true the- ory) and fact, is this : that in theory the ideas are considered as dis- tinct from the facts; in facts, though ideas may be involved, they are not, in our apprehension, separated from the sensations. In a fact, the ideas are applied so readily and familiarly, and incorporated with the sensations so entirely, that we do not see them, we see through them. A person who carefully notes the motion of a star all night sees the circle which it describes, as he sees the stars, though the circle is, really, a result of his own ideas. A person who has in his mind the measures of different lines and countries on the earth's surface, and who can put them together into one conception, finds that they can make no figure but a globular one ; to him, the earth's globular form is a fact, as much as the square form of his chamber. A person to 354 APPENDIX. ■whom the grounds of believing the earth to travel round the sun are as familiar as the grounds for believing the movements of the mail- coaches in this country looks upon the former event as a fact, just as he looks upon the latter events as facts. And a person who, knowing the fact of the earth's annual motion, refers it distinctly to its me- chanical cause, conceives the sun's attraction as a fact, just as he con- ceives as a fact the action of the wind which turns the sails of a mill. He cannot see the force in either case ; he supplies it out of his own ideas. And thus, a true theory is a fact ; a fact is a familiar theory. That which is a fact under one aspect is a theory under another. The most recondite theories, when firmly established, are facts ; the sim- plest facts involve something of the nature of a theory. Theory and fact correspond, in a certain degree, with ideas and sensations, as to the nature of their opposition. But the facts are facts, so far as the ideas have been combined with the sensations and absorbed in them : the theories are theories, so far as the ideas are kept distinct from the sensations, and so far as it is considered still a question whether those can be made to agree with these. We may, as I have said, illustrate this matter by considering man as interpreting the phenomena which he sees. He often interprets without being aware that he does so. Thus, when we see the needle move toward the magnet, Ave assert that the magnet exercises an at- tractive force on the needle. But it is only by an interpretative act of our own minds that we ascribe this motion to attraction. That, in this case, a force is exerted — something of the nature of the pull which we could apply by our own volition — is our interpretation of the phenomena ; although we may be conscious of the act of interpreta- tion, and may then regard the attraction as a fact. Nor is it in such cases only that we interpret phenomena in our own way, without being conscious of what we do. We see a tree at a distance, and judge it to be a chestnut or a lime ; yet this is only an inference from the color or form of the mass according to precon- ceived classifications of our own. Our lives are fiill of such uncon- scious interpretations. The farmer recognizes a good or a bad soil ; the artist a picture of a favorite master ; the geologist a rock of a known locality — as we recognize the faces and voices of our friends ; that is, by judgments formed on what we see and hear; but judgments in which we do not analyze the steps, or distinguish the inference from the appearance. And in these mixtures of observation and in- ference, we speak of the judgment thus formed as a fact directly ob- served. Even in the case in which our perceptions appear to be most di- THEORIES AND FACTS. 355 rect, and least to involve any interpretations of our own, in the sim- ple process of seeing — who does not know how much we, by an act of the mind, add to that which our senses receive ? Does any one fancy that he sees a solid cube 1 It is easy to show that the solidity of the figure, the relative position of its faces and edges to each other, are inferences of the spectator ; no more conveyed to his conviction by the eye alone than they would be if he were looking at a painted representation of a cube. The scene of nature is a picture without depth of substance, no less than the scene of art ; and in the one case as in the other, it is the mind which, by an act of its own, discovers that color and shape denote distance and solidity. Most men are un- conscious of this perpetual habit of reading the language of the exter- nal world, and translating as they read. The draughtsman, indeed, is compelled, for his purposes, to return back in thought from the solid bodies which he has inferred, to the shapes of surface which he really sees. He knows that there is a mask of theory over the whole face of nature, if it be theory to infer more than we see. But other men, unaware of this masquerade, hold it to be a fact that they see cubes and spheres, spacious apartments and winding avenues. And these things are facts to them, because they are unconscious of the mental operation by which they have penetrated nature's disguise. And thus, we still have an intelligible distinction of fact and theory, if we consider theory as a conscious, and fact as an uncon- scious, inference, from the phenomena which are presented to our senses. But still, theory and fact, inference and perception, reasoning and observation, are antithesis in none of which can we separate the two members by any fixed and definite line. Even the simplest terms by which the antithesis is expressed can- not be separated. Ideas and sensations, thoughts and things, subject and object, cannot in any case be applied absolutely and exclusively. Our sensations require ideas to bind them together, namely, ideas of space, time, number, and the like. If not so bound together, sensa- tions do not give us any apprehension of things or objects. All things, all objects, must exist in space and in time — must be one or many. Now space, time, number, are not sensations or things. They are something diflferent from and opposed to sensations and things. We have termed them ideas. It may be said they are relations of things, or of sensations. But granting this form of expression, still a relation is not a thing or a sensation ; and therefore we must still have another and opposite element along with our sensations. And yet, though we have thus these two elements in every act of perception, we can- 356 APPENDIX. not designate any portion of the act as absolutely and exclusively be- longing to one of the elements. Perception involves sensation, along with ideas of time, space, and the like ; or, if any one prefers the ex- pression, "we may say, perception involves sensations along with the apprehension of relations. Perception is sensation, along with such ideas as make sensation into an apprehension of things or objects. And as a perception of objects implies ideas, as observation im- plies reasoning, so, on the other hand, ideas cannot exist where sen- sation has not been ; reasoning cannot go on when there has not been previous observation. This is evident from the necessary order of development of the human faculties. Sensation necessarily exists from the first moments of our existence, and is constantly at work. Observation begins before we can suppose the existence of any reasoning which is not involved in observation. Hence, at whatever period we consider our ideas, we must consider them as having been already engaged in connecting our sensations, and as having been modified by this employment. By being so employed, our ideas are unfolded and defined ; and such development and definition can- not be separated from the ideas themselves. We cannot conceive space without boundaries or forms ; now forms involve sensations. We cannot conceive time without events which mark the course of time; but events involve sensations. We cannot conceive number, without conceiving things which are numbered ; and things imply sensations. And the forms, things, events, which are thus implied in our ideas, having been the objects of sensation constantly in every part of our life, have modified, unfolded, and fixed our ideas to an extent which we cannot estimate, but which we must suppose to be essential to the processes which at present go on in our minds. We cannot say that objects create ideas ; for to perceive objects we must already have ideas. But we may say that objects and the constant perception of objects have so far modified our ideas that we cannot, even in thought, separate our ideas from the perception of objects. We cannot say of any ideas as of the idea of space, or time, or number, that they are absolutely and exclusively ideas. We cannot conceive what space, or time, or number, would be in our minds, if we had never perceived any thing or things in space or time. We cannot conceive ourselves in such a condition as never to have perceived any thing or things in space or time. But, on the other hand, just as little can we conceive ourselves becoming acquainted with space and time or numbers as objects of sensation. We cannot reason without having the operations of our minds affected by previous sensations ; but we cannot conceive reason- THEORIES AND FACTS. 357 ing to be merely a series of sensations. In order to be used in reasoning, sensation must become observation ; and, as we have seen, observation already involves reasoning. In order to be connected by our ideas, sensations must be things or objects, and things or objects already include ideas. And thus, none of the terms by which the fundamental antithesis is expressed can be absolutely and exclu- sively applied. I will make a remark suggested by the views which have thus been presented. Since, as we have just seen, none of the terms which express the fundamental antithesis can be applied absolutely and ex- clusively, the absolute application of the antithesis in any particular case can never be a conclusive or immovable principle. This re- mark is the more necessary to be borne in mind, as the terms of this antithesis are often used in a vehement and peremptory manner. Thus we are often told that such a thing is a. fact, a fact and not a theory, with all the emphasis which, in speaking or writing, tone or italics or capitals can give. We see from what has been said, that when this is urged, before we can estimate the truth or the value of the assertion, we must ask to whom is it a fact 1 What habits of thought, what previous information, what ideas does it imply, to con- ceive the fact as a fact ? Does not the apprehension of the fact imply assumptions which may with equal justice be called theory, and which are perhaps false theory ? in which case the fact is not a fact. Did not the ancients assert it as a fact, that the earth stood still, and the stars moved 1 and can any fact have stronger apparent evidence to justify persons in asserting it emphatically than this had? These remarks are by no means urged in order to show that no fact can be certainly known to be true ; but only to show that no fact can be certainly shown to be a fact merely by calling it a fact, how- ever emphatically. There is by no means any ground of general skepticism with regard to truth, involved in the doctrine of the neces- sary combination of two elements in all our knowledge. On the contrary, ideas are requisite to the essence, and things to the reality, of our knowledge in every case. The proportions of Geometry and and Arithmetic are examples of knowledge respecting our ideas of space and number, with regard to which there is no room for doubt. The doctrines of Astronomy are examples of truths not less certain respecting the facts of the external world. — WhewelVs History of Scientific Ideas, vol. i. bk. i. pt. i. ch. i. s. 10.* * For a very interesting article upon " Fact and Fiction," see 20 Blackwood's Magazine, 681. INDEX. A. ABERNETHY, Doctor^ anecdote of his powers of memory, 53. ABSENCE, length of, as presumption of death. 110. remarkable instances of long continued, lll,n. ACCOMPLICE, credit to be given to testimony of, 157, 163. why not to be believed, 163. ADVOCACY, chapter on, 232. ADVOCATE, no one should be his own, 232. professional, power of, to acquire and use knowledge, 236. knowledge required to possess, 238. should not add facts of his own invention, 241. imposition committed by production of fabricated almanac, 243. may he support a cause he knows to be bad, 244. how he represents his client, 244, liable to acquire a Swiss conscience, 246. Dr. Johnson's opinion upon, 249. Lord Eldon's views upon the duties of, 251. Coleridge's opinion on the necessity for, 253. the greatest, often men of humble birth, 254. arguments of, how to be viewed by a jury, 254, 256. Pliny as, 255, n. Macaulay's description of an accomplished, 254, n. Lord Eldon's defect as, 255. when his success with a jury may be hoped for, 256. exhibition of emotion by, 257. Lord Brougham's remarks upon, 263. merges his individuality, 264. may advance the opinion of his client, 265. 360 INDEX. AD VOC ATE— co« tinned. among the impediments in the way of justice, 262. Cicero's distinction between professional and personal character of, 265. unreasonable to impute to him the opinions he ex- presses for his client, 266. tendencies of the practice as, 266. ALIBI, evidence of, 43. ANSWERS to questions often very indefinite and loose, 203. reasoning, 205, 207. ATHOL, Lord, attack upon by Lord Lovat, 17. ATTESTING WITNESS, proving execution of deed by, 49. Lord Eldon never was, 65. B. BANKRUPTCY of a witness as affecting his credit, 178. at Rome a witness's credit measured by his property, 179. BARRISTER. See Advocate. BROWN, David Paul, anecdote of, 53, n. his golden rules for examination of witnesses, 307. BROWN, Jessie, at the siege of Lucknow, 26, n. BUCKINGHAM, Duke of, his assassination, 19. CEREMONIES belong to an age of ignorance, 29. CHARACTER, evidence as to, on criminal trials, 95, effect of evidence as to, 95. nature of evidence as to, 95. opinion as to, 95. doubtful value of testimony as to, 95, n. how to judge of evidence as to, 98, 199. CHILD, evidence of, 151. to be received with caution, 151. capable of perjury, 152. capable of murder, 152. inadequate judge of the sanctity of an oath, 152. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE of murder, 104. what it is, 274. by some thought more satisfactory than direct, 277. result of, is but probability, 278. CLEARNESS necessary in addressing the ill-informed, 209. CLOTHING as a means of recognition, 81. IKDEX. 361 COLERIDGE, memory of, 41. on the necessity for an order of advocates, &c., 253. COMMON REPORT not sufficient to judge by, 127. CONCEALMENT as an evidence of guilt, 104. CONCLUSION from facts, 271. hasty, occasion of much misconception, 270. CONFLICT of testimony, 184. CONFUSION in demeanor of witness, effect of, 171, 183, 202. CONTEMPLATION an aid to impression, 34. CONTRADICTION may be inadvertent, 150, 183. instances of, 191, 196. See DiscREPANcv. CONVICTION. See Self Convictiox. COUNTENANCE. See Face. COW PER, memory of, 41. CRANES OF IBICUS, Fable of, 93. CREDIT OF A WITNESS generally, 145. ground of, 145. affecting by certain questions on cross-examination, 134, 153. how affected by his previous deposition, 155, 160. how affected by his being interested in the prosecution, 156. how affected by his previous conviction of theft, 156. by being an accomplice, 157. how affected by his delaying to make his statement, 159. how affected by his former conduct, 161. how affected by being a spy, 170. how affected by bankruptcy, 178; how affected by weakness of mind, 179. how affected by his demeanor, 182. how affected by his evidence differing from that of another witness, 184. CRIME, circnmstances often betray and manifest the motives of, 124. common course of, 102, n. motive of, 124. CROSS-EXAMINATION, object of, 131. leading questions allowed on, 130. importance of, 132. to show that witness did not see what he said he saw, 134, to show that witness did not hear what he said he heard, 134. to show that witness spoke from hearsay, 134. 24 362 INDEX. CROSS-EXAMINATION— Contin ued. to test the truth of what a witness has said in general terms, by making him particularize, 135. to show that a witness who has identified a thing was mis- taken, 135. to procure explanation of words used by a witness, 135. to show that the conduct of a prisoner was consistent with his innocence, &c., 135. to cause witness to repeat what he has said in favor of the prisoner, 136. to show a contradiction in the testimony of the witness, 137. legitimate end of, sometimes perverted, 137. what is necessary to render it effective, 137. makes witness a w'itness for examiner, 138. often corroborates and strengthens previous testimony, 138. Lord Eldon's remark as to, 138. Daniel O'Connell's caution in resorting to, 138. instance of its strengthening the direct testimony on O'Coigly's trial, 139. the like on Home Took's trial, 140. the like on Earl Thanet's trial, 140. often gives rise to a re-examination, 141. affecting credit of witness by certain questions on, 153. embarrassing to an honest witness, 216. Chief Justice Bushe's dread of, 218. object of, often only to confuse a witness, 219. trying to the temper of a witness, 219. Trench's description of, 219, n. Curran's mode of, 230. See Examination, Ee-examinatiox. CROWD, perception in a, 23. CURRAN, his mode of cross-examining a witness, 230. D. DEATH, presumption of, 110. why indulged, 111. probability of, 110. probability of, by shipwreck, 115. foreshadowed in the face, 102. DEMEANOR of witness as affecting his credit, 182. DEPOSITION of witness, 160. INDEX. 363 DISCREPANCY of witness as affecting his credit, 184, on the trial of Lord Strafford, 185, of witnesses as to what was said, 191, 192, et seq. DISGUISE, effect of, upon recognition, 73. DISTANCE in sjyace, effect of, upon perception, 24. to prove alibi, 43. in time. See Time. of place, 89. certain occupations qualify to judge of, 90. what occasions difference in idea of, 90. Irish peasants' notion of, 91. DORSET, Earl of, and the students, anecdote of, 27. DOUBT, meaning of the term, 296. prisoner entitled to benefit of, 296. DRESS as an aid to personal identity, 81. sometimes more noticed than the person, 81. E. EAR, putting close to the ground, the better to hear, 22. capacity of, to hear many sounds at one time, 23. eye perceives quicker than, 27. ELDON, Lord, observation on interrogating a prosecutor, 138. defect of, as an advocate, 255. his practice in writing opinions, 269. ELOQUENCE, evidence is, 259. takes either side, 258. may be addressed to the understanding or the feelings, 254. EVIDENCE of fliith, 145. of a child, 151. of a child to be received with caution, 151. consists of matter of fact, 271. See Testimony. EXAGGERATION, tendency to, 209. EXAMINATION of a witness, basis of, 128. modes of, 126, 128. leading questions on, 128. remarks upon, 208. of witness should be according to the order of time of which they are to speak, 143. of witnesses usually preceded by a statement of counsel, 144. difficulties of, 202. Lord Bacon's opinion on different modes of, 220. calmness and temper required in, 232. 364 INDEX. EXAMINATION— Con^mwef/. golden rules for, 307. practical advice for conducting, SI 3. See Cross-Examixation, Re-Examination. EXPERIENCE closely connected with probability, 109. EXPERTS, credit to be given to, 272. EYE, the shining of, may betray a concealed person, 20. capacity for seeing many objects at once, 22. perceives quicker than the ear, 27. memory has more command over sights than somids, 29. EACE, recognition of a person is usually by, 69, 72. changes in the, 69. its resemblance differently judged of by different persons, 75. inconvenience of resemblance in, 76. greater diversity of intellectual character than of counten- ance, 77. resemblance of face does not infer resemblance of character, 77. power of some persons to control, 101. sometimes raises suspicion of crime, 102. sorrow in, foreshadows death, 102. FACT a subject of jurisprudence, 9. rights and wrongs proceed from, 9. the subject of testimony, 9. what is meant by, 9. intention is a, 9, 9, n. and opinion, distinction between matters of, 10, n. questions of, 10, n. time and place concomitant circumstances of, 197. once in existence is irrevocable, 13. not confined to one group, 13. relation of, renders it important or otherwise, 13. when a subject of inquiry by a jury, 14. testimony consists of, 15. time passing or past is a, 43. narrative of, what it is, 125. how obtained from a witness, 126, 127. how a witness may narrate, 126. belief in truth of, necessary to a conclusion, 147. common mistake to suppose a fact has been seen which has not been seen, 149. INDEX. 365 FACT — Continued. conclusion from, 271. purposes of inquiry into, before a jury, 271. evidence of witnesses consists of matter of, 271. in matter of, credit to be given to testimony, 272. to form a story, 274. and theories, 352. FAITH, many things known upon the evidence of, 145. FALSEHOOD the subterfuge of guilt, 92. usually a motive for, 93. and truth, contest between, 307. See Lie, Perjury, Williams. FIERY CROSS, summons by the, 87. FLIGHT a suspicious circumstance, 104. G. GARRICK as a witness, 212. H. HANDWRITING, recognition of, 62. how a knowledge of, may be obtained, 63. liability of error in recognizing, 63, 63, w., 64. varies with circumstances, 64. mistakes as to, 64, 65. ordinary, differs sometimes from signature, QQ. examination of witness as to, examples of, 139. HASTE, effect of, upon perception, 17. in coming to conclusion, evil of, 270. HEARING. See Perception. HIGHLANDERS, their mode of answering questions, 132. HOUDIN, how he cultivated his power of vision, 22, n. HUMAN NATURE, a knowledge of, enables one to judge of proba- bilities, 120, 124. HUME an accomplished advocate, 254, n. HUNTER, John W., curious error on trial of, 63, n. I. IBICUS, murder of, how discovered, 93. IDEAS, causes of obscurity in, 31. IDENTITY, instances of mistakes in, 78, 79. See Recognition. IGNORANCE, effect of, upon perception, 18. age of, is an age of ceremony, 29. 366 INDEX. IMAGINATION sometimes takes the place of memory, 49. IMPEACHMENT of witness, 199. IMPRESSION, capability of the mind to receive, 31. what occasions an, 32. of altered appearance of a friend, 33. of witness as to what he heard, 34, 51. words often make no, 34. aided by contemplation, 34. how long retained, 38. occasioned by novelty, 38. See Memort, Perception, Recogxition. IMPROBABILITY. See Probability. INFERENCE. See Motive. INFLUENCES to conceal truth or overstep its boundaries, 153. INSOLVENCY. See Baxkruptcv. INTENTION is a foct, 9, 9, n. inferred from acts, 274. a common subject of inquiry by a jury, 275. instances of questions of, left to jury, 275. INTERROGATION of a ivitness, basis of, 128. See ExAMixATiox, Questions. IRISH PEASANT, his notion of distances, 91. his mode of answering, 206. account of cross-examination of, 219, n. JOHNSON, Judge, error in proof of handwriting on trial of, 64. JUDGE, Cicero's advice to, 298. powerless sometimes to prevent wrong, 305. JURISPRUDENCE, facts and laws are subjects of, 9. JL'RY to give verdict according to evidence, 254. what ensures advocates success with, 256. should distrust eloquence of advocate, 258. purpose of an inquiry into facts before, 271. often have to be instructed by the witnesses on matters of science and art, 271. to rely on testimony of experts, 272. to credit testimony, 272. how to prepare verdict, 273. sometimes have to draw inferences, 274, 290. intention is a common subject of inquiry by, 275. instances of questions of intention left to, 275. INDEX, 367 JURY — Continued. may be deceived by false testimony, 282. deciding on contradictory evidence, 283. Bishop Sanderson's sermon on difficulty of, in coming to a right conclusion, 284, unanimity required of, 286. differences in powers and qualifications of members of, 287. rule requiring unanimity in, censured, 291. how advised by the court, 293. consolation to, in case of error, 294. to give prisoner benefit of doubt, 296. advice to, 297. K. KEEPSAKES, effect of, upon the memory, 42. KNOWLEDGE, effect of, upon perception, 18. LAMARTINE rejected as a witness, 162, n. LANGUAGE often makes no impression on hearer, 34. two different impressions of, 51. substitution of, in repetition, 183. testifying as to the exact language used, 188. difficulty of remembering 190. LAW, fact the source of, 9. questions of, 10, n. and fact, questions mixed of, 10, n. conclusions of, 12 n. connected with history, 238. ashes of, cover all science, 238. LAW-SUITS always undesirable, 300. caution against making, instruments of injustice, 301. LAWYER, knowledge of all science necessary to, 238. his flexibility in construction of language, 240. Bishop Sanderson's advice to, 303. See Advocate. LEADING QUESTIONS, what are, 128, 131. advantages and disadvantages of, 129. when not allowed, 130. abuse of, on cross-examination, 130. LIE, how to apprehend the full extent of the sinfulness of, 147. See Falsehood. LIGHT, effect of, upon perception, 17. 368 lifDEX. LOVAT, Lord, attack by, on Lord Athol, 17. LUCKNOW, case of Jessie Brown at, 26, n, ^ M. MAP. See Model. MEANING of language used, testifying as to, 34. See Words. MEMORANDUM as a means of recollection, 46. to aid memory recommended, 46. value of, 48. sometimes fails to recall the fact recorded, 48. will frequently recall forgotten facts, 49. MEMORY has more command over sights than sounds, 29. what is it, 38. kept alive by keepsakes, 42. decay of, with age, 39, 55, 56. persons remarkable for retentive, 52. of names, 39. of words, 188, 190. of Wesley, 39. of David Paul Brown, 53, n. of Wilberforce, 40. of Cowper, 41. of Abernethy, 53, n. of Chief justice Parsons, 53, n. of Coleridge, 41. of Savage, 52. of the time of an event, 43. of the " lower orders," 53. recommendation not to trust to, 46. treachery of, 47. imagination sometimes takes the place of, 49, 58. of an entire drama, 53, n. some things cannot be erased from, 54, 57. effect of the plague at Athens upon, 55. effect of intense suffering upon, 55. effect of injury to the brain upon, 55. of the events of childhood, 57. confusion of, 58. impressions are constantly wearing out, 125. aid to by a model or map, 126. See Recognition, Recollection. I2?DEX. 369 MIND, perception of, may precede that of eye or ear, 20. attention of, dependent on circumstances, 31. how influenced by self-interest, 124. See Weakness of Mind. MISERY prolongs time, 85. MISTAKE in the use of one word for another, 188 to 191. not affecting credit of witness, 194. as to what words were used or acts done, or the persons by whom done, 188, et seq. some sources of, 208. MISTAKEN IDEiNTITY, instances of, 78, 79. See Identity, Recognition, Resemblance. MODEL or Map as an aid to the memory, 126. MOTIVE, perjury seldom committed without, 148. of a witness, 152. of crime, 124. a source of suspicion against a witness, 152. to commit perjury, 152. difficult to learn the, 165. MURDER, signs of, 103. of Apronia by her husband, Plautius Silvanus, 102, n. circumstantial evidence of, 104. child capable of, 152. convictions for, on false testimony, 281. MUSIC, no residing place in the ear, 30. N. NAMES, memory of, 39. NARRATIVE, when considered to be probable, 122. of facts, what it is, 125. by a witness, 126. often imperfectly or falsely told, 131. should adhere to order of time, 143. of children and servants. Herodotian style of, 151, n. See Relation of Facts. NELSON, Lord., examination of, as a witness, 99. NOTICE, habit of taking, 36. NUMBERS, fallacious estimate of, 209. O. OATH of a witness on a trial, 146. child may be inadequate judge of the sanctity of, 152. 370 INDEX. OATR— Continued. effect of, upon a person's statement, 200, 214. importance of, 214. See Perjury, O'CONNELL, Daniel, his caution in cross-examination of a witness, 138. OLD AGE, effect of, upon the memory, 39, 55, 56. OPEN QUESTION, what is, 128. advantanges and disadvantages of, 129. effect of, upon an honest witness, 130. OPINION and fact, distinction between matters of, 10, n. of one witness of another, 199. of witness, 272. of others, adoption of, 272. PARRICIDE, Cicero's defense of Roscius for, 123. PARSONS, Ch. J"., his powers of memory, 53, n. PERCEPTION dependent on relative situation to object viewed, 16. effect of sunlight upon, 16. smoke, snow, or rain upon, 16. haste upon, 17. being only partially awake upon, 17. light upon, 17. dependent on previous knowledge or ignorance, 18. suddenness of, 19. of the eye, 20. of the mind may precede that of the eye or ear, 20. of sound by lying on the ground, 22. by the eye of many objects at one time, 22. by the ear of many objects at one time, 23. of many things, but nothing distinctly, 23. in a crowd, 23. in a riot or tumult, 24. effect of distance upon, 24. dependent on internal recognition, 25. by the eye quicker than the ear, 27. See Impression. PERJURY seldom without motive, 148. many would prefer death to, 148. child capable of committing, 152. motives to commit, 152. what facts will furnish reason to suspect, 161. INDEX. 371 PERJURY— Continued. pickpocket may not be prepared to commit, 162. convictions obtained by, 281. See Oath. PERSON, Recognition of, 68. See Identity. PERSONAL IDENTITY. See Identity, Recognition, Resem- blance. PLACE, memory of, 41. distance of, 24, 43, 89. See Alibi, Distance. PLINY, how he advocated a cause, 255, m. POLICE OFFICERS, remarks upon evidence given by, 160. PRESUMPTION of Death from length of absence, 110. of survivorship, 119, 122. See Probability. PREVIOUS KNOWLEDGE or ignorance, effect of upon percep- tion, 18. PROBABILITY, length of time often important as a measure of, 85. Locke's definition of, 107. how judged of, 107, n, 119. the only result of circumstantial evidence, 278. experience closely connected with, 109. what is probable to one is not probable to another, 120. of coming weather, 110. some persons confound the possible with the probable, 121. of death, 110. of death by shipwreck, 115. of survivorship, 119, n. PROBABLE, when Cicero considered a narrative to be, 122. or improbable, a question of knowledge, 123. PROTAGORAS, boast of power to make a bad cause good, 262. Q. QUESTIONS of fact, 9, «. of law, 10, n. mixed of law and fact, 10, n. where many are to be asked some will be omitted, 128. leading, what are, 128, 131. advantages and disadvantages of, 129. habit of answering loosely, 203. See Leading Questions, Open Questions. 372 INDEX. RAIN, effect of, upon perception, 16. REASONABLE DOUBT, what amounts to, 296. REASONING, affecting by self-interest, 124. answer by witness, 205, 207. RECOGNITION, 60. of a thing, 60. from its being rare, 60. from points of difference, 61. by workmen of their tools, 61. of handwriting, 62. liability to error in recognizing handwriting, 63, 63, n. of a person, 68. how assisted, 68. is chiefly by the face, 69, 72. by his conversation, 71. by his knowledge of some fact, 72. causes which prevent, 72. by his voice, gait or carriage, 73. aided by the dress, 81. of the murderer Rush, 74. instance of, after many years' absence, 74. See Identity — Resemblance. RECOLLECTION, causes of, 42, 46. memorandum a means of, 146. See Memory. RE-EXAMINATION, cross-examination often gives rise to, 141. object and effect of, 141. is often a cross-examination, 142. often confirms cross-examination, 142. confirming cross-examination, instance of, on the trial of Hardy, 142. RELATION of fads. See Narrative. difficulty in, 202. penalty of making false, 282. REPORT. See Common Report. RESEMBLANCE of one person to another, inconvenience of, 76, 77, mental, 120. See Identity, Recognition. RIOT, perception in a, 24. INDEX. 373 s. SAILORS, superstition of, 181. SAVAGE, his powers of memory, 52. SELF-CONVICTION, how it often happens, 93. of the murderers of Ibicus, 93. by deed, 94. of Hugh Macdonald, 94. in the case of Eugene Aram, 94. SERVANTS, tendency of, to exaggerate, 151. SIGHT. See Perception. SIGNATURE, difficulty of recognizing, 64. how the value of testimony as to, determined, 67. See Handwriting. SILENCE sometimes more useful than speech, 235. SILVANUS, charged with killing his wife, 102, n. SMOKE, effect of, upon perception, 16. SNOW, effect of, upon perception, 18. SOUND, perception of, 25. night air favorable to transmission of, 25. hearing only part of, 27. memory has more command over sights than, 29. one may drown another, 36. effect of, 40. SPEED, often important to know rate of, 85. few able to judge of, 85, 86. circumstances which affect, 87. SPY, when mere character of being, not to prejudice as a witness, 170. naturally disliked, 171. testimony of, how tested, 171. Lord Chief Justice Eyre's remarks upon the testimony of, 172. Lord Ellenborough's remarks upon the testimony of, 175. magistrates may employ, 175. Cicero emplo)^ed spies upon Catalino, 175. the mercenary spy to be feared, 176. Tacitus makes mention of, 176. Addison's description of, 177. Evelyn's remarks upon the testimony of, 177. a conscientious man, such as was Defoe, may be, 177, n. witness not to be addressed as, 220. STANHOPE, Lady Hester, remarkable power of vision of, 30. 374 INDEX. SUNLIGHT, effect upon perception, 16. SUPERSTITION of sailors notorious, 181. instances of, 181, n. SURVIVORSHIP, presumption as to, 119, 122. SUSPICION, Dr. Johnson's definition of, 101. Jerome's definition of, 101. different kinds of, 101. observation of Lord Bacon upon, 101. the attendant of crime, 102. of murder, 102. what facts will create, 103. capable of explanation, 105. caution against rash, 106. TEARS indication of soft heart, 258. advocate shedding, 258. nothing dries sooner than, 258, n. TEMPTATION, what affects the force of, 99. TESTIMONY, fact the only subject of, 9. of witness consists of facts, 15. instance of fallibility of, 59. to handwriting, liability to error in, 63, 63, n. to signature, 66, 67. as to length of time, uncertainty of, 84. as to speed, 85. compared with argument, 256. often given in scientific language, 271. of experts to be relied upon, 272. as to facts, but not as to opinions, to be relied on, 273. indirect, 276. false, 280. contradictory, 283. See Evidence. THEORIES and facts, 352. THINGS, recognition of, 60. TIME, passing or past, is a fiict, 43. a sure innovator on the countenance, 70. of hearing, seeing or doing any act, usually unnoticed, 45. examination of a witness as to the time of a marriage, 45. length of, 83. uncertainty of testimony as to, 84. INDEX. 375 TIME— Continued. great mental trouble or anxiety may make past time to appear longer than it really was, 84. length of, important as a measure of possibility or proba- bility of an event, 85. TRIAL ; on every trial there is a story of facts, 126. by jury, Sir James Mackintosh's eulogy upon, 301. TRUTH, difficulty in arriving at, 59. defined, 146. moral, defined, 146. of facts, belief in, necessary to a conclusion, 147. and falsehood, contest between, 306. proper inference that witness meant to speak, 147. when proper to doubt, 149. men said to have no curiosity to know, 266. V. VERDICT, effect of, 299. See Jury. VISION, remarkable powers' of, 30. improvement of powers of, 22, n. W. WEAKNESS of Mind as affecting the credit of a witness, 179. WEATHER, the coming may be often rightly predicted, 110. WESLEY, John, his memory, 39. his rebuke of Beau Nash as to reliance on common report, 127. WHITBREAD, his reply on Lord Melville's trial, 42. WILBERFORCE, memory of, 40. WILLIAMS, Dr., his powers of making false relations of things, 282. WITNESS may be asked what was his intention, 9, n. testimony of, consists of fiicts, 15. askins: whether he must have seen a thin" done, 19. interrogated as to what he heard, 34. to prove execution of deed, 49. tendency of, to turn inference into recollection, 50, 52. casual circumstances will sometimes awaken recollection in mind of, 50. may have two impressions of what he has heard or read, 51. to handwriting, liability to error, 63, 63, n. to distance of place, 90. 376 INDEX. WITNESS— Co}iti7iued. to character, 95. narrative of facts by, 126, 127. objections to allowing him to tell his own story his own way, 126. examining of, by questioniug, 127. inconvenience of examining by questions, 128. basis of interrogation of, 128. two modes of questioning of, 128. leading questions and open questions to, 128. advantages and disadvantages of different modes of examin- ing, 129. effect of leading questions to, 129. effect of open questions upon, 130. often tells his story imperfectly or falsely, 131. importance of cross-examination of, 132, re-examination of, 141. order of examination of, 143. examination of, usually preceded by a statement of counsel, 144. of the credit of, generally, 145. a child as, 151. oath of on a trial, 146. may comply with his oath and yet mis-state facts, 146. proper inference that he meant to speak the truth, 147. when suspected of testifying falsely, how to view his testi- mony, 148. when proper to doubt truth of, 149. often impairs his credit by a contradiction in terms, 150. self-contradiction by, 150, 183. motives of, 152. credit of, how affected by certain questions in ci'oss-examina- tion, 153. the former conduct of, 161. an accomplice, 163. a spy, 170. bankruptcy of, 178. ■weakness of mind of, 179. deameanor of, 182. giving evidence differing from that of another witness, 145, 184. opinion one of another, 199. INDEX. 377 WITNESS— Continued. under examination, 202. difficulties experienced by, 202. effect of novelty of situation upon, 212. peculiarities of, 212, 215. not to be addressed in terms implying discredit, 221. unwilling to answer, 226. surprised into an answer, 227. that will not recollect, 230. Bishop Sanderson's admonition to, 302. golden rules for examination of, 307. practical advice for conducting examination of, 313. See Cross-Examination, Examination of Witnesses, Evidence, Testimony. WORDS often make no impression, 34. two impressions of, 51. substitution of, 183. testifying as to the exact, 188. speaking one for another, 188. difficulty of remembering acknowledged by an order of the House of Commons, 190. WORLD, what is meant by knowledge of, 294. WRITING. See Handwriting. X. XENOPHON, retreat of, 20. 25 BAKER, VOORHIS & CO.'S LAW PUBLICATIONS. Baker, Voorhis & Co.'s Law Publications. ABBOTTS' IV. T. DIGEST. 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CASES OF THE COURT OF APPEALS of the State of New York, containing a Statement of each Case argued in the Court, commencing with its organization ; the Briefs and Points of Counsel therein ,• the Decision of the Court ; and the Votes of the Judges upon the resijective Decisions. With Notes and References. By Nathan Howard, Jr. Price $7.50. Hnrd's Law of Freedom and Bondage. THE LAW OF FREEDOM AND BONDAGE in the United States. By John C. HuRD, Esq., Counsellor at Law. 3 vols. 8vo. Price $10.00. ^~ This work includes the exposition of those legal relations in which freedom may exist as a lersonal condition under the Constitution of the United States, as well as the history of chattel slavery nd of personal distinctions founded upon difference of race in the several States and Territories. The rcliminary and incidental discussion of elementary principles of public and international law occupies large portion of the work. 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The system of our law j'n respect of this branch is so much followed in other States, particularly some of the Western States, that the usefulness of this Digest is not limited to New York alone. 1 vol. 8vo. Price $3.50. La^y-s American Digest of Patent Cases, &c. A DIGEST OF AMERICAN CASES RELATING TO PATENTS for Inventions and Copyrights, from 1789 to 1862, including numerous Manuscript Cases, Decisions on Aj^peals from Commissioners of Patents, and the Opinions of the Attorneys-General of the United States, under the Patent and Copyright Laws ; and embracing, also, the American Cases in respect to Trade-Marks. Arranged in Chronological order, with the year in which and the name of the Judge by whom decided. By Stephen D. Law, Esq., Author of "Law's United States Courts,"