B 
 
 B9922*. 
 
 ARGUMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 JAMES T. AUSTIN, 
 
 ATTORNEY GENERAL OF THE COMMONWEALTH, 
 
 BEFORE THE 
 
 SUPREME JUDICIAL COURT IN MIDDLESEX, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 CASE OF JOHN H. BUZZELL, 
 
 ONE OF THE TWELVE INDIVIDUALS CHARGED WITH BEING CON- 
 CERNED IN DESTROYING THE 
 
 URSULINE CONVENT, 
 
 AT CHARLESTOWN. 
 
 Reported verbatim , by the Stenographer of the Mas. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 PRINTED BY FORD AND DAMRELL, 
 
 mechanics’ hall Wilson’s lane. 
 
 1834. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, by 
 T. C. GREAVES’, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
' 6 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 
 v 
 
 May it please your Honors : — Gentlemen of the Jury. 
 
 I congratulate you and myself, that this most extraor- 
 dinary case is now drawing to a close. I shall endeavor, as far 
 as I may be additionally concerned in it, to tax your patience 
 as little as possible ; and I shall act thus, because, if lam not 
 very much mistaken, there is no point in this case that ought to 
 be productive of a moment’s doubt in the mind of any sensible 
 and intelligent man. And yet, Gentlemen, I will not attempt 
 to disguise from you the important nature of this trial. It is an 
 important case. Important to the prisoner, who has forfeited 
 his life to the laws of his country ; and important to the country, 
 because its laws have been violated, and its peace has been dis- 
 turbed. But, most of all, Gentlemen, is it important to you ! 
 The crowd who have assembled in this Court-house, day after 
 day, look upon this trial as the trial of John R. Buzzell alone. 
 It is not so. You, Gentlemen, — I say it with all respect, — 
 you are also on your trial before your country, before poster- 
 ity, and before your God. The events you are investigating are 
 to be recorded in the history of your country ; the connection 
 you have had with them is to be recorded also, and both will 
 go down to posterity as long as history shall exist. This trial 
 — like some of those that have come down to us in the political 
 history of the people whence we sprung, that proceeded, or 
 were connected, with their great revolutions, and the crises of 
 
4 
 
 their nation — or like others, which took place in the days of 
 our forefathers, — is to show how far the people of this country 
 are competent to self-government ; how far our political institu- 
 tions, of which Trial by Jury is one, consist with the safety and 
 security of the citizens, the rights of property, personal pro- 
 tection, and those liberties and privileges, which the govern- 
 ment was established to secure ; how far our tribunals of justice 
 are temples consecrated to truth, where all her ministers are 
 holy ; or how far they are erected for some idol worship, 
 where prejudice, passion, partiality and base fear, are attendants 
 at the altar. It is yet to be seen, whether there is safety and 
 security in a confident reliance on the supremacy of the law, 
 for protection to the innocent, and punishment of the guilty ; or 
 whether these forms of judicial trial are assumed in bitter mock- 
 ery and scorn, to delude and deceive us ; — whether reliance 
 may be placed on the stern integrity, the enlightened percep- 
 tion, the immovable justice of the men with whom, in the course 
 of our proceedings, the ultimate decision is to rest. 
 
 According to the theory of our laws, reliance may be placed 
 upon the integrity, the intelligence, and the immovable sense of 
 justice of the men I address. I have no wish to give utterance to a 
 doubt upon this subject ; but yet I say that you are upon your tri- 
 al ; and the more so, from the way in which you have been select- 
 ed. The prisoner has only exercised a right that belongs to 
 him, in selecting you as the individuals who are to try him ; but 
 in choosing two from Charlestown, he has placed you in a very 
 delicate and responsible situation. If, however, he calculates, 
 gentlemen, in your possessing a bias, he is deceived ; because 
 you have all sworn that you have no bias. But it is difficult, 
 sometimes, to separate from the mind preconceived notions, 
 however much we may wish to do so ; and prejudices frequently 
 influence our conduct, unconsciously to ourselves. Among the 
 prejudices likely to operate in a case like the present, is that 
 which relates to a capital trial. You have been told, that such 
 is the responsibility resting upon a juror in a capital case, that 
 it is often impossible for him to decide properly, — as if a juror 
 had any thing to do but to decide upon the facts before him. 
 
5 
 
 The counsel for the defence have told you, gentlemen, that 
 the law under which the prisoner has been indicted does not 
 apply to this case. You have nothing to do with that. 
 If the learned counsel are right, that is a matter for the Court, 
 and the Court will take care that your verdict does not harm 
 the prisoner. But there is no capital trial in this country, prop- 
 erly so called. If you find a verdict against the prisoner, and 
 the Court pass judgment upon him, he cannot be executed upon 
 that judgment alone. This Court is not like the Circuit Court, 
 which can try prisoners one week, and sentence them to ex- 
 ecution the next. The record of sentence must go hence to the 
 Governor and Council, and there is a statute of the Common- 
 wealth which permits those individuals to commute the decision 
 of the judge, and enables them to punish the prisoner in part, 
 or not at all, exactly as they please. Permit me, then, to say, 
 that, in giving a verdict in relation to this prisoner, you are no 
 more instruments in his punishment, than the officer who arrest- 
 ed him, the turnkey who locked him up, or we who have talked 
 to you in the case. It is true he cannot be punished without 
 your verdict ; but he is only on the road to punishment, when 
 you say he is guilty. 
 
 Again, there is a prejudice existing in relation to the crime 
 which lie is accused of having committed. I have been shock- 
 ed to hear some of the suggestions which have been thrown out 
 in relation to the character of this crime. Is it a trifling 
 offence ? One which might be decided upon and punished by 
 a justice of the peace, or suffered to pass without any punish- 
 ment at all ? In my mind, any conclusion of this kind is erro- 
 neous. This transaction unites within itself every circum- 
 stance of Wickedness, Depravity, Violence and Brutal- 
 ity, that ever combined together in any one transaction in the 
 whole history of crime. 
 
 It is Arson, Burglary, Robbery, Sacrilege and Mur- 
 der, united -perpetrated, too, with the most shameless reck- 
 lessness, and the most cruel wantonness of purpose — with the 
 most fiend-like deliberation, with the most protracted and con- 
 
6 
 
 tinued atrocity ; — without the slightest motive, that can, in the 
 least degree, palliate this concentration of all detestable villany 
 —and with no excuse now offered, by way of mitigation, that 
 does not dye, in deeper guilt, the miscreants by whom it was 
 committed. 
 
 Let me carry you, for a single moment, to the scene of this 
 midnight devastation ; let me ask you to look at it before the 
 torch of the incendiary had reduced it to a ruin. 
 
 You find there a large estate, purchased and paid for by 
 three native American citizens ; held by title deeds of the same 
 validity and efficacy as those by which you, Mr. Foreman, hold 
 your estate, or any of your pannel their farms or dwelling 
 houses. On this piece of land, before rude and uncultivated, 
 a large and extensive pile of buildings was erected, and honestly 
 paid for, to the mechanics and builders employed in procuring* 
 the materials and doing the labor, among whom were several of 
 the immediate neighbors of this valuable property. The 
 grounds were laid out with a regularity and beauty, that any but 
 Vandals would have spared, for their elegance and taste. 
 Lawns, gardens, fruit-trees, flowers, bloom around ; and, in one 
 remote corner, the hand of affection and piety had consecrated 
 the last sad sleeping chamber of the hallowed dead. Within 
 the walls, eight feeble women found their home, with no pro- 
 tector but the God whom they served, and the laws they were 
 willing to obey. This recluse society of women were religious 
 women — devoting themselves to a consecrated service, on the 
 faith of that article in our bill of rights, which secures to every 
 one the utmost toleration, and the most perfect right of enjoying, 
 professing and observing, whatever religion he pleases. 
 
 But, although retired from all active commerce with the 
 world, they still had connection with it in one of the most use- 
 ful, honorable, and interesting employments. They were a 
 community of instructors — teachers of youth — school-mistres- 
 ses. In a country, boasting of its regard for education, — all 
 whose .institutions are founded on the presumed knowledge, and 
 consequently on the education of the people, — these eight 
 women, with two lay sisters, preparing for the same purpose, 
 
7 
 
 devoted themselves to the instruction of female youth ; and 
 such was their assiduity and attention, that, for several years, 
 they had received a large patronage from the most intelligent 
 and respected of your fellow-citizens. They had, at this time, 
 sixty pupils, of whom forty-seven, from six to sixteen years of 
 age, were then within the walls of the institution. 
 
 With no debt unpaid ; no duty unperformed ; with no personal 
 enemy ; and giving, as far as they knew, no cause of offence to 
 any human being ; unarmed, because ignorant of danger ; defence- 
 less, because not apprised they had any thing to fear ; surrounded 
 by a population of an hundred thousand people, who boast of their 
 attachment to peace, order, tranquility and law — these women 
 retire to rest. Suddenly they are awakened by frightful yells, like 
 those which startled our ancestors, when the warhoop of the 
 native savage burst upon their midnight slumbers. They start 
 from their beds frightened and alarmed. The little ones, in the 
 agony of their fear, gather under the wings of their protector — 
 she scarcely less frightened than themselves. The bonfire, 
 round which the demi-savages are dancing, throws its horrid 
 glare into the chambers. The sick and dying woman faints ; 
 the terrified lunatic is driven again to delirium ; stones fly ; the 
 windows are broken ; life is insecure ; and the distressed inmates 
 are obliged to flee. All leave the place but one. One timid 
 female only remains, to face this ferocious mob ; but the woman’s 
 heart, under the influence of a mother’s feelings, gains more than 
 a lion’s strength. Yes, gentlemen, the mother — (not by ties of 
 consanguinity) — that old, infirm woman, whom you saw on the 
 stand, she dares to remain, lest any of herchildren, any of her sis- 
 ters (by religion), should be exposed to the licentiousness of these 
 lawless ruffians. She traverses the building, from the basement 
 to the cupola; opens every chamber, and runs from place to place, 
 exclaiming in agony, like David of old, “My child, my child.” 
 But all happily are out of danger, and she goes back again 
 towards her own room, to save the little property of the institu- 
 tion. She finds it filled with armed men ; she turns into the 
 passage, and there beholds another band. She then retreats 
 to the garden, where she finds the cowering children, driven 
 
8 
 
 like doves from their dove-cote. All then leave the institution. 
 Look at that sad procession, gentlemen, quitting the burial place 
 of all their happiness. Mr. Cutter has told you, that when 
 he met them, they did not speak a word; that they looked 
 stupified ; and he had to gather them into a place of safety, as 
 you would gather or drive sheep into a pen. There was no 
 weeping, no exclamations of sorrow, no tears — ‘ grief drank the 
 offering ere it reached the eye.’ Presently the building is 
 sacked. Beds, furniture, plate, vestments, the decorations of 
 the altar, and the Word of God, are alike the prey of this des- 
 olating multitude. Broken or stolen — all is lost. Fire is de- 
 liberately applied. A torch, furnished to assist the engines in 
 putting out a fire, is designedly used to kindle one. The work 
 of destruction goes madly on, and that noble building, wrapt in 
 flames, rolls its accusing volumes to the skies, till naught remains 
 but heaps of blackened ruin. The out-buildings share the same 
 fate. The tomb, too, is violated — as if nothing was sacred 
 enough to be preserved from destruction. The children are 
 sought for by their agonized parents, and saved, in their night- 
 clothes, from the devouring element. The women, too, are 
 preserved — all ? — all but one . She is killed by alarm and ex- 
 posure. Is not this murder? Why not? What is murder, 
 but the felonious taking of life, a little before the time decreed 
 by Providence for its duration shall have expired ? 
 
 It would be bad enough, if all this ended here. But this is 
 but the beginning of the evil. The Commonwealth, the na- 
 tion, the people, are disgraced and degraded. We seem to 
 have rolled back again the tide of improvement ; to have re- 
 ceded in the march of mind ; to have become more bigoted, 
 instead of more liberal ; to have proclaimed universal toleration 
 in our Constitution and our laws, and to have practised more 
 intolerance, with greater penalties, than our ancestors did, 
 when they persecuted the Quakers, or denounced the Baptists. 
 We talk about liberty and equal rights, and practise the most 
 cruel tyranny that ever disgraced a despot. We punish for 
 opinions, for modes of faith and forms of worship ; and this, too, 
 before trial, and without trial. We are cowards as well as vil- 
 
9 
 
 lains. We make war on old women and young children — first 
 taking care to inquire if they have a gun or pistol within their 
 dwelling-house. The head magistrate of the town in 
 which this outrage was committed, where was he ? He goes 
 up, looks round, admonishes the people, that he thinks they 
 have done enough ; and then, having sore eyes, goes home and 
 to bed. Where are the other magistrates — the militia — the 
 neighbors ? None are to be found. No neighbor, no magis- 
 trate, no friend, to take the part of these helpless women. 
 Nothing is courageous but crime. It will be inscribed in our 
 history, that here, at least, the age of chivalry is gone. The 
 mob put down every thing and every body. They ravage, as 
 they please, in the very luxuriance of iniquity. 
 
 And where is all this done ? On one of those hill-tops, 
 which, less than sixty years ago, was consecrated, by the best 
 blood in our country, an altar to liberty and the rights of man. 
 By the side of that ever memorable height, which tells to all 
 time, the glory and the greatness, the courage and the patriot- 
 ism, of your fathers, this defendant, and his associates, have 
 inscribed the degeneracy and the baseness of some of their de- 
 scendants. By that glorious monument, which is rearing its 
 proud and noble height to catch the first sun-light of the morning, 
 and throw it back, in honor of the gallant spirits who died there 
 for freedom, this defendant, and his associates, have left a black- 
 ened and mournful memorial of the manner in which that 
 freedom has been exercised by the race that have succeeded them. 
 Destruction is more speedy than erection. The column on 
 Bunker Hill rises slowly to the honor of our fathers — but the 
 blackened battlements upon Mount Benedict are the work 
 of a night. See to it, that it be not so with the State ! 
 
 Can any sympathy be felt for a man who makes war upon 
 women and children, destroys their property, endangers their 
 lives, violates all the laws of the land ; and, in so doing, inflicts 
 a wound upon the country, from which it can never recover ? 
 
 Where, in the pride of your American feelings, do you carry 
 a stranger, who asks to see the high places of your national 
 
 glory ? To Bunker Hill ! And when your hearts are warmed 
 2 
 
10 
 
 there, with reverence for the ancestry from whom you sprung ; 
 when you recount to him the sacrifices they made, and the suf- 
 ferings they endured, to sustain the infant fortunes of your coun- 
 try ; when you dilate with rapture on their virtues and patriotism, 
 their love of order and liberty, and their resistance to tyranny, 
 oppression, and the imposition of lawless power — what if he 
 shall cast his eyes onward, and inquire the name of that other 
 monument which frowns so frightfully from Mount Benedict ? 
 What will you say for yourself, or to him ? The chill of fifty 
 winters cannot strike such an ice-bolt through your heart, as 
 would the question of that stranger. 
 
 The Russians have a vapor bath, in which the heat is kept 
 at above an hundred degrees, and when every pore is dripping 
 with perspiration, they pass from the building, and plunge fear- 
 lessly through the broken ice of the Neva, or roll themselves 
 naked on their eternal snows. An American tried the experi- 
 ment there, but he died. These rioters have introduced such 
 a bath for American patriotism. The transition from the house 
 to the river, is not greater to the body, than is that to the 
 mind, from Bunker Hill to Mount Benedict ! 
 
 There is but a single addition that can be made to this 
 frightful reality of midnight robbery, plunder, desolation and 
 crime. It is, to be forced to say, that we cannot ascertain w T ho 
 did the deed ; that we know not the culprits ; that we are un- 
 able to single out one man in the thousand who led on this 
 band of ruffians to their act of riot and debauchery. It is to 
 add to the disgrace of the law that could not prevent all this 
 ruin, the infamy of not being able to discover the perpetrators, 
 and to allow these rioters to laugh at the imbecility and supine- 
 ness of the boasted power of a judicial tribunal. v * 
 
 One addition only, did I say, gentlemen ? There is yet a 
 worse calamity that may befal us than all that has happened. 
 Such a misfortune will happen if ever — may God forbid it — 
 if ever the tribunals of justice prove traitors to their trust ; if, to 
 a Jury of the Country, fair, honest and full evidence should be 
 presented, and such a jury should be recreants to their duty. 
 Then, indeed, it might be said, the days of American liberty 
 
 f • * # 
 
11 
 
 were numbered — then, indeed, it might be said, that the people 
 were unfit for free government — then, indeed, it might be said, 
 that the last hope of civil and religious liberty had expired; and 
 from the anarchy which is to follow, we might consider it a re- 
 lease, to be subjected to the most iron despotism that ever 
 ground an unworthy people to the dust. 
 
 If, then, you come to the inquiry of this case, with any of 
 those doubts and prejudices which have been abroad, I beg you, 
 for your own sakes, for the sake of your children, and the coun- 
 try, which must last longer than either, to dismiss them from your 
 minds. I beg you to consider, that a blot has been brought 
 upon the escutcheon of that country ; that a great crime has 
 been committed — an act of barbarism, for which language has 
 no name — a crime, which renders the individuals who commit- 
 ted it, obnoxious to all the indignation and punishment ever 
 exercised towards the most flagitious offender. 
 
 Let us now examine, gentlemen, the evidence before us ; 
 and see what is your duty in relation to it. I have not the 
 slightest inclination to express any doubt that you will endeavor 
 to understand — that you will faithfully perform that duty. 
 
 And, “ good men and true, stand together, and hearken to your 
 evidence.” 
 
 Before we proceed to the testimony which has been adduced 
 in this case, it is necessary to establish certain rules in relation 
 to it. My learned friends seem to have thought that you might 
 do as you liked in this matter — that you might select certain 
 parts, and leave others, and treat the whole, like the merchan- 
 dise in a trader’s shop, to be taken or left at the purchaser’s 
 pleasure. I must be permitted, however, to tell you, gentle- 
 men, that evidence can only be rejected by a jury in accordance 
 with certain rules of law, and rules of common sense, established 
 by wise men, and the efficacy of which has been proved by the 
 experience of ages. A jury have no more right to depart from 
 these rules, than they have , to commit the offence for which the 
 prisoner at the bar is indicted. They cannot set aside Catholic, 
 any more than they can Protestant, testimony. If they could 
 set aside Catholic testimony, they might do the same with Bap- 
 
 UNivcrsity Oh 
 
 HZINOIS LIBRARY 
 
12 
 
 tist, Unitarian, or Methodist testimony. Once admit that lines 
 are to be drawn in this way, and our courts become useless ; 
 we have only to ascertain the religious faith of the jurors, to 
 know at once how a case will be decided. 
 
 The rules of law, gentlemen, have been read to you, and I 
 beg here to say, that the only duty of a jury is to draw, as 
 intelligent men, an inference from the evidence/which is laid be- 
 fore them. We cannot tell whether the fact it establishes is 
 true or not ; all we can say, is, that, by the testimony, it is true ; 
 — and, if afterwards, it is found to be false, we can^till say, 
 that we have exercised our best judgment, and are innocent 
 ourselves. 
 
 In the first place, then, you are to consider, in relation to 
 this case, the number of witnesses that have been brought for- 
 ward. The law says, indeed, that one unimpeachable witness 
 is as good as a hundred ; but in a case like this, numbers 
 strengthen each other. Their united testimony is a cable of 
 many strands — these cords are not to be separated. One might 
 not be sufficient to moor a cock-boat, yet, united with others, 
 they hold secure the mightiest vessel that ever floated on the 
 ocean. So with testimony. Look at the number and variety 
 of the witnesses in the present case. It is possible that witnes- 
 ses, in some cases, might be in a confederacy, and then their 
 number is of no consequence ; but when they come from the 
 East and the West, from the North and the South, no one of 
 them knowing what the other would testify, and having no con- 
 nection with each other, and yet all testifying alike, — he must 
 be an infidel, who refuses to give credit to their statements. It 
 is by such testimony as this, that men are governed in common 
 life ; and a jury cannot act differently, without disregarding 
 their oaths. Now consider the strength of the present case in 
 this way. Here are men, brought in sets from all quarters — 
 wholly unconnected — having no knowledge of each other, until . 
 they found their names in the same subpoena — entire strangers 
 — and, yet, all coming to the same point — all testifying to the 
 same fact — all agreeing that Buzzell is one of the men whom 
 they saw, on the night of the 11th of August, engaged in the 
 
13 
 
 destruction of the Ursuline convent. Look, I say, at the as- 
 tonishing strength of this evidence. Judge Fay could not tell 
 that Buck would be here as a witness ; Colonel Gerry did not 
 know of Judge Fay ; Thaxter never heard of Littlefield ; Lit- 
 tlefield never heard of Logan ; Logan never heard of Balfour ; 
 and so on with all the rest. Nothing but truth brings them 
 here ; nothing but the fact of their having all been at the same 
 place, and seen the same occurrences take place. 
 
 Then, gentlemen, we must despatch another matter connect- 
 ed with this case — the discrepancy of testimony. It is a rule 
 of law, that this discrepancy is the very thing that entitles evi- 
 dence to credit. If a number of men, stating themselves to 
 have heard a certain conversation, repeat that conversation in 
 precisely the same words, you set their statements down as a 
 contrivance. Here are half-a-dozen persons taking down what 
 is said in this Court. What they write, is, in substance, true 
 — but no two of them agree preqisely in words. One of the 
 most profound and attentive observers of human nature, in allud- 
 ing to human testimony, has spoken of it as substantial truth 
 under circumstantial variety. Men do not see exactly alike, 
 because they are not in the same position. The variety of de- 
 scription is the test of truth. 
 
 I will bring the matter to your own judgment. I am address- 
 ing twelve Christians. How got you your knowlege of Chris- 
 tianity? From the Evangelists. There is one thing recorded 
 by those Evangelists, about which there can be no doubt. I 
 mean the inscription on the cross. All the holy men, to whom 
 I have alluded, agree that there was an inscription, but all differ 
 in relation to its phraseology. Matthew says, the inscription 
 was, “ This is Jesus, King of the Jews” ; Mark, “ The King 
 of the Jews” ; Luke, “ This is the King of the Jews” ; and 
 John, “ Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” And who, 
 that had the happiness to believe there was a cross, ever had 
 the misery to doubt about it .because of the difference of the 
 phraseology in which the inscription is recorded ? If, however, 
 the principle contended for by, the learned counsel on the op- 
 posite side, be admitted, you must disbelieve the sublimest part 
 
14 
 
 of our religion, because there is a discrepancy among the wit- 
 nesses. I ask you to judge of the testimony in this case, by 
 the same rules that you would apply to the sacred subject to 
 which I have just called your attention. I ask you to judge 
 of it as wise, honest and intelligent men. In these days of 
 scepticism, every thing may be made a subject of doubt. Some 
 doubt the existence of a Supreme Creator ; others, that we live, 
 move, and have our being. The days of the heathen philoso- 
 phers have returned upon us. All things are made uncertain. 
 Ingenuity, indeed, may make every thing cloudy ; and it is 
 said to be possible for a Yankee “ to whittle any thing down 
 to the little end of nothing.” 
 
 Again, I ask you to look at the individual witnesses. How 
 are you to get testimony in any case? You must take that of 
 your fellow citizens, — and you cannot find better men than the 
 country produces. If we breed liars, we must take them ; but 
 if, on the contrary, we raise men , and “ souls are ripened in 
 our Northern sky,” then we may safely rely upon such men — 
 and none are better than the individuals who have lately been 
 before you. According, however, to one of my learned breth- 
 ren in the defence, not one honest witness has appeared upon 
 the stand ; he has fleshed his scymetar upon every one of 
 them ; all — all are false, and honesty has ceased to exist 
 among us, except in the person of the honest Iago at the bar. 
 If such a man as your Judge of Probate, who is so strong a 
 witness for the prosecution, is to be attacked when he takes the 
 stand, and you are to be told to discredit his testimony because 
 he is under excitement and does not know himself, it is vain 
 for any man to attempt to escape the “ slings and arrows” 
 which the gentleman, in the desperation of defence, hurls at us 
 all. If you are to be imposed upon by such arguments as these, 
 I do not see why we should attempt to try or decide upon any 
 case. I never expect to be able to bring forward better wit- 
 nesses than many who have given their testimony upon this 
 occasion. You, gentlemen, may be called upon yourselves, at 
 some future time, to give evidence in a case of this kind. I 
 ask you to protect yourselves against such insinuations and 
 
15 
 
 attacks as have been made upon the character of witnesses 
 during this trial. It is the offensiveness of the bar that one 
 man’s reputation is to be impugned in order to get another man 
 out of a scrape, and I ask you to set your faces against this 
 practice — to put it down. 
 
 With these remarks I come to the examination of the testimo- 
 ny of the witnesses individually. And first, I take the Lady Su- 
 perior, giving her that name, although the opposite counsel say 
 there is no superior here. Gentlemen, in a college there is a Pres- 
 ident ; in a school, a Master ; in a Court, a Chief Justice. The 
 lady whom you saw here is the Superior, or the head of her Con- 
 vent, in the same way that you are Foreman, or head of 
 the jury. It is said that she was brought here for effect. She 
 was so. She was brought here to produce the effect that 
 every honest and intelligent witness ought to produce, and no 
 other. She was a necessary witness. She was called here to 
 prove that she was the Superior. We had so stated it in the 
 indictment ; and had we failed to produce her here, our remiss- 
 ness would quickly have been pointed out by the gentlemen on 
 the opposite side. To the two first counts she is an indis- 
 pensable witness. My learned friend says, she is not to be 
 believed. Do not you believe her, Mr. Foreman? She is 
 accused of having told Mr. Cutter “ that the Bishop had 
 20,000 of the vilest Irishmen under his control,” and she 
 acknowledges (much as such an acknowledgment might be 
 supposed to operate against her), that she said so, or something 
 to that effect. And is it wonderful that she should have given 
 way to a momentary feeling of anger. Religious woman as 
 she is, she has human feelings. Remember that on Saturday 
 previous she was told that the Convent was to be pulled down ; 
 that a paragraph in a newspaper alluding to the escape of one 
 of her family had been put into her hands by a stage-driver ; 
 that in the abduction of this female Mr. Cutter was a party ; 
 that she considered it an unfriendly and an unneighborly act ; 
 that he had not mentioned anything of it before to her. Do 
 you think that it was kind on the part of Mr. Cutter to help 
 off this runaway nun ? Do you think it was a neighborly act 
 
16 
 
 for Mr. Cutter to assist in getting away one of her family with- 
 out notifying her of the fact — spreading a report so that it 
 reached the newspapers — and then coming to ask her if it was 
 true. Mr. Foreman, if one of your children had eloped, and 
 had been assisted to do so by one of your neighbors who after- 
 wards got up a story about it prejudicial to yourself, would you 
 not think such conduct unkind ? Was not what the Superior said 
 mere retaliation ? Was it not the language of nature and truth ? 
 “ If you pull down my convent, your houses will also be pulled 
 down ! If you make an attack upon us in consequence of our 
 religious opinions, an attack will be made upon you*on similar 
 grounds.” And she spoke truly. If this case be not settled 
 rightly, no one can tell what consequences may ensue. Re- 
 taliatory outrages may be expected. It is human nature. 
 But has the Bishop ordered out his 20,000 Irishmen ? Where 
 are they ? I do not see an Irish face here. On their part all 
 is calm and quiet. Look at the state of this lady. All her 
 property gone. Every thing she was worth in the world — her 
 institution — her school consigned to the flames. You have 
 seen her here. Do you think she came into this court with 
 malignity of heart. She had not mixed in the world for 
 many years before she came from her convent upon the present 
 occasion, with as much reluctance and alarm as would be felt 
 by a modest female in appearing before you habited in the 
 costume of her bed-chamber. But an all-controlling power 
 was cjperating upon her mind. Nothing but the sublime and 
 holy influence of religion could have rendered that woman so 
 calm, so mild and so resigned as you beheld her. Her testimony 
 was corroborated by that of the other nuns, and the counsel 
 for the defence had no objection to make to them but their 
 dress. I thought, interested as he is in this case, that he would 
 have obtained some correct information upon this subject — that 
 he -would have made himself master of the history of the respect- 
 able order of which these w r omen are members, before he said a 
 word in favor of the man who wantonly made war upon it- They 
 have been compelled to come here by the law T , and have come 
 in the dress which they ordinarily wear. They have no other. 
 
17 
 
 Had my learned friend taken the trouble to inquire, he would 
 have found that the community to which these ladies belong 
 took 300 years ago the peculiar dress of the widows of that 
 age, and have retained it ever since. In the same way that 
 our Quakers retain the form of dress worn by their forefathers 
 when that sect was first established. Peculiar the dress cer- 
 tainly is, but quite as modest and respectable as that in which 
 the fashionable ladies of our day unveil their glowing beauties 
 to the gaze of all observers. I may also inform you that there 
 is a vast difference in convents. The Ursulines are well known 
 to history as able instructors of youth ; they are not mere reclu- 
 ses ; and when other communities on the continent of Europe 
 were put down by Napoleon, the Ursuline community was spared 
 in consideration of the great services they rendered to society, 
 and their freedom from the objectionable traits which character- 
 ized the economy of many other orders. 
 
 If you believe the testimony of these three female witnesses, 
 the crime chargeable upon some one was perpetrated in all its 
 parts. I call upon you to hold no compromise with your oaths 
 in this particular. Go for the whole, or let the prisoner escape. 
 If the convent was broken and burned, it was burned by a com- 
 bination of individuals, and every man engaged in the transaction 
 is equally guilty. If the prisoner was present consenting to 
 the act, he is as guilty as if he had himself applied the torch. 
 In the case of the Salem murder, Knapp although a quarter of 
 a mile off when the deed was committed, was condemnfed and 
 punished as a murderer. It is not necessary that the prisoner 
 should have broken into or set fire to the building with his 
 own hand ; it is sufficient that he formed part of the gang who 
 committed the outrage. To ascertain whether he was con- 
 cerned, you must decide these questions : — Was this defendant 
 at the gate? Was he at the bonfire? Was he in the house? 
 
 It is said this is a question of identity. So it is. When a 
 crime is committed by some one, the question is — Who was it ? 
 Some crimes are commritted by one man — others by two per- 
 sons; never before by so many individuals as in the present 
 case. We suppose the prisoner was concerned. I believe he 
 
18 
 
 was, but I believe also that others were connected with the 
 transaction, who urged him on and are as much to blame as he 
 is. This man however, is charged with being one of the 
 active agents in the affair. The principal question is, whether he 
 was busy among the rest on the night of the 11th August. It 
 is proved that he was, by sixteen witnesses. You trace him 
 from before the offence was committed till breakfast time the next 
 morning, — during every moment of the time. There is one 
 remarkable fact connected with this matter. These men 
 seemed to have set the law at defiance, and gone boldly and 
 undisguise dly to work. First, he is seen by Messrs. Fay and 
 Thaxter ; then Fitz Cutter and Burbank hear him make use of 
 remarkable language ; Barrett and Sissons see him ; then Coon, 
 Gerry, Phelps, Littlefield and Hogan see him. These wit- 
 nesses bring him to about the time when the bonfire was 
 expiring. Then comes Buck, and he swears to him as being on 
 the outside ; then Logan, who saw him in the house ; then Buck 
 sees him again within ; and lastly, there is the evidence of 
 Parker and Thomas, the former of whom saw him at the en- 
 gine while the convent was in flames, and the latter on the 
 following morning at breakfast time. If this evidence will 
 stand the test of scrutiny, where is the doubt? The pris- 
 oner is guilty unless Judge Fay and the others have all testified 
 incorrectly. If the honest witnesses are mistaken, and oth- 
 ers are liars, you can never hope to get any evidence upon 
 which to found a verdict ; but if you will believe human testi- 
 mony, the man at the bar was at the fire. Upon the subject 
 of time as connected with this matter, I would ask, — how are 
 we to ascertain with certainty at what hour these witnesses got 
 to the convent. By watches ? “ None go just alike but 
 
 each believes his own.” I suppose you know that all persons 
 who receive Irish boarders keep their clocks an hour too fast, 
 for the purpose of getting their lodgers up in time for the rail- 
 road. When therefore, one of these men tells you at what 
 time a certain circumstance happened, he either guesses or 
 goes by one of these clocks. You saw a nun faint away in 
 Court. Suppose you were now severally to mark down the 
 
19 
 
 time when she did so — each guessing what the time was, would 
 you have been within 15 minutes of each other. One of the 
 learned counsel on the other side informed you that lie should 
 not impeach the character of Logan, though he afterwards did 
 so. At what time, gentlemen, did he say this ? We can 
 guess, and that is all. How long was Buck on the stand ? 
 You all know that he was on the stand ; but gentlemen, although 
 you are twelve Yankees, you cannot guess any thing near 
 the truth. You would vary as to the length of time ; there 
 is no such thing as being certain in this particular, unless 
 indeed, you have some accurate instrument to take an ob- 
 servation. Nothing is so uncertain as this evidence of 
 time. The only circumstance of time in this case which we 
 can calculate positively, is that of twilight. It seems that on 
 the night in question, the sun set at eight minutes after seven, 
 and twilight ended at seven minutes before nine. We know 
 that people do not commonly light candles much before twi* 
 light is out. Mr. Thaxter says, he heard rumors in relation to 
 the convent, at Watertown, while he was at tea; that he set 
 out in his chaise, called upon Fay, and they then both rode 
 down to the convent. “ They stopped at Mr. Cutter’s by the 
 way, and found candles lighted.” This proves that it must 
 have been near nine o’clock. It was probably past nine when 
 Fay and Thaxter got to the convent gate. If you believe 
 this, we have a clue to the whole matter. The later you fix 
 this time, the more certain becomes the prisoner’s guilt. All 
 difficulty vanishes if you suppose that Fay arrived after twi- 
 light. Judge Fay and Mr. Thaxter say, they saw Buzzell at 
 the gate. Burbank and Cutter could not see him because 
 it was dark. Barrett and Sissons heard him and saw him. 
 Coon, Gerry and Phelps saw him, and this brings him up to 
 about ten o’clock. Littlefield and Hogan saw him afterwards. 
 Now, if the fact is as they state it, Buzzell was there. 
 You, gentlemen, do not doubt their veracity. The only ques- 
 tion is, are they certain as to the identity of the prisoner. 
 Judge Fay knew him as a low, dirty fellow, using filthy lan- 
 guage in reply to a question which he (Fay) put to him, and 
 
20 
 
 the Judge says, Buzzell is the man. I say, he swears it. For 
 how does any man swear to the identity of another? If I 
 met you, Mr. Foreman, in the street, I should say, I think 
 that is the Foreman — it would be my opinion. Fay speaks 
 this with regard to Buzzell. His opinion is not a sudden one, 
 but formed on deliberation and with care. When you meet an 
 individual whom you have only once seen, or who has returned 
 after a long absence, you may at first doubt his identity ; but 
 you look at him again, and are certain. Are you less certain 
 because you doubted at first, and is your testimony entitled to 
 less credit, or to more? Judge Fay saw the prisoner at 
 Charlestown, two days after seeing him at the convent gate. 
 He was then in his brickmaker’s dress, and Fay knew him 
 directly ; had no doubt about the matter — heard his voice, and 
 was very certain. But it is said to be impossible that Fay 
 should distinguish him by his voice. I want to know why ? 
 Does not the human voice furnish a certain method of ascer- 
 taining identity ? Judge Fay heard him talk at Charlestown — 
 heard him speak angrily ; for the prisoner was irritated at 
 the testimony which was there given against him. Judge Fay 
 heard him, and was satisfied he knew him. 
 
 But it is said that the prisoner had a cold, and was so hoarse 
 that his voice could not be recognised. This whole argument 
 is based on error. It is a mistake to say that a man’s voice 
 cannot be known because he has a cold. I have no doubt that 
 any of my friends who should hear my voice at this moment, 
 would feel satisfied as to who was speaking, although they 
 might not be able to see me. [The Attorney General was 
 laboring under a severe cold.] It is not true that hoarseness 
 changes a man’s voice so entirely that it cannot be recognised. 
 I appeal to the experience of the present moment. 
 
 We come next to the evidence of Mr. Thaxter. He did 
 not know that Mr. F ay had identified this man ; but yet, he 
 comes into court and says the prisoner is the individual whom 
 he saw at the gate. He comes to this conclusion from all things 
 put together ; he does not form his opinion from any one par- 
 ticular feature — from height, breadth of shoulder, or the fact 
 
21 
 
 of the prisoner’s having a thin nose ; but from his tout ensem- 
 ble — the whole of his appearance. Mr. Thaxter hesitat- 
 ed a little at first — he did not like to express an opinion until 
 he was perfectly certain, knowing the sort of cross-examina- 
 tion to which he would be subjected by the defence ; but, 
 having made up his mind, he swears to you that he has no doubt 
 this is the man he saw at the gate. It is said, Mr. Thaxter 
 scarcely ever heard the prisoner’s voice after the interview at 
 the gate. Why, he heard him say “ challenge ” no less than 
 eighteen times, and “ no objection ” several times more. Mr. 
 Thaxter heard enough to satisfy himself in this respect. 
 
 Mr. Fitz Cutter was sitting at his window, and heard some- 
 body give a vulgar answer to Fay. He could not see who it 
 was, but tells you he has no doubt it was Buzzell. And if he 
 does not doubt, why should you ? Mr. Cutter is not a very 
 swift witness for the government. But there is a circumstance 
 connected with this question of voice, that places the whole 
 matter beyond a doubt. Lorenzo Burbank, a wagon driver, 
 tells you that he went to Cutter’s the next morning, and asked 
 him, “ if he heard JOHN BUZZELL give that dirty answer 
 to Judge Fay?” Now this is proof incontestible. 
 
 The next witness is George R. Barrett. He has no con- 
 nection with Fay and Thaxter; and in all probability, never 
 saw Cutter or Burbank before he saw them in this court. He 
 is a boy, employed in a counting room at Boston. He and 
 Sissons heard that the Convent was to be pulled down, and 
 they went to see what was doing. He was at the gate, saw 
 the prisoner at the bar, and says he is the man who gave the 
 vulgar answer to Judge Fay. With the natural curiosity of a 
 boy, he went up within a foot of the man, and looked him full 
 in the face ; he wished to know who it was who had the bold- 
 ness to make such a reply to the Judge of Probate. He had 
 no idea that Buzzell would be brought up; but he looked 
 steadfastly at him, and now he says, as Nathan to David, 
 “ thou art the mail” If there is no reason to doubt the hon- 
 esty of Barrett, the fact is fixed. But driven from pillar to 
 post by the cross-examination of the prisoner’s counsel, he is 
 
22 
 
 at last forced into what is said to be a contradiction, and says 
 that the man at the convent gate had whiskers. And the 
 counsel for the defence maintain that Buzzell had no whiskers 
 on the night of the fire ; but that another man like Buzzell was 
 furnished with .those appendages. Suppose Barrett to be mis- 
 taken in this particular. Is it one of those errors that should 
 destroy the credibility of a witness, or is it one of those varia- 
 tions to which I have previously alluded, and which establish a 
 witness’ truth. Barrett did not mention the whiskers as a dis- 
 tinguishing trait by which he recognised the prisoner; he 
 knew him by his general appearance — his boisterous manner — 
 and the filthy answer he gave to Judge Fay. But is Barrett 
 mistaken? One of my friends of the defence (Farley), is 
 pretty smooth-faced, but yet he has whiskers ; and if the priso- 
 ner had as many hairs on his face as the gentlemen to whom I 
 allude, he may certainly be said to have worn whiskers. In 
 point of fact then, he had whiskers. Coburn, the officer who 
 arrested him, says he had ear-lochs. Consider, then, how far 
 a man may safely distinguish between ear-locks and whiskers. 
 In the hurry of the moment and the obscurity of the evening, 
 Barrett might easily have mistaken ear-locks for whiskers. 
 Buzzell may now make his whiskers ear-locks to the eye, by 
 simply pulling up his shirt collar. At the recent trial of the 
 pirates, a whole day was consumed in ascertaining whether the 
 binding of a man’s shoes was such as described by a witness, 
 and in the end the witness was found to have been mistaken ; 
 but did the jurors when they retired to consult upon their verdict 
 in that case, consider this variance of any importance ? They 
 did not. The fact is, counsel are up to things of this kind ; 
 and when rowing against wind and tide, they avail themselves 
 of a trivial variance such as the present, for the erection of 
 elaborate and ingenious, but groundless and sophistical theories. 
 You find, that no other witness in the case can tell whether the 
 prisoner had whiskers or not, although they all identify him, 
 thus proving that whiskers formed no item in their means of 
 recognition. This variance is one of those circumstances that 
 do not go to shake a witness’ testimony, but rather to confirm 
 
23 
 
 it. I dismiss, however, the subject of whiskers. I might 
 dismiss also, the testimony of Barrett, and then there would 
 remain more than sufficient evidence to prove the guilt of the 
 defendant. But I call upon you not to do so. I submit to 
 you that Barrett did not form his opinion as to the identity of 
 Buzzell by reference to the whiskers of that individual. He 
 drew his conclusions from the prisoner’s whole appearance. 
 And there is no mistaking this man ; he might be picked out 
 from a thousand ; his tout ensemble leaves an impression upon 
 the mind never to be forgotten. 
 
 Next comes the testimony of Sissons. He thinks the pris- 
 oner is the man he saw at the convent gate, but will not 
 be certain. He does not know whether the man wore whis- 
 kers or not. They certainly could not have been large and 
 conspicuous, or some of the witnesses would have noticed 
 them. 
 
 Then we have John Coon, a foreigner, who, the gentlemen 
 politely tells us, comes under the denomination of imported 
 testimony, which however they use themselves. Coon is a 
 reluctant witness. He tells you he only spoke at his shop, of 
 having seen Buzzell, and did not expect that what he said would 
 be carried out. Coon knew Buzzell. Not by any peculiar 
 marks, but in the same way that you know your family. It is 
 almost impossible for a man to say by what he knows his own 
 children. I know you, gentlemen ; should know you if I 
 met you in the street ; but I could not if I were asked, state 
 the particular features which enable me to recognise you. 
 
 It is difficult to explain a simple idea to another’s mind, be- 
 cause there is nothing more simple by which to explain it. 
 Thus, we can give a blind man no idea of color, or a deaf 
 man, ex nativitate , any idea of sound. The nearest which 
 any philosopher has come to this, is found in the answer of the 
 blind man who said, after a day’s effort to understand the 
 matter, that the color of scarlet must be very much like the 
 sound of a trumpet. So it is with all primary ideas, and with the 
 identity of individuals. We cannot tell how we get the ideas 
 that enable us to distinguish persons ; all we can say is, that 
 
24 
 
 we know them. Until after the last judgment, when new fac- 
 ulties may be given to us, this is all we shall ever be able to do. 
 If a jury will not believe a man, when he says of another, “ I 
 know him,” it is idle ever to adduce testimony in a Court of 
 Justice. 
 
 Coon had known Buzzell, he tells you, for more than a year, 
 and saw him go up the convent avenue on the night of the 
 fire ; saw him with the mob who were shouting before, and ran 
 up the avenue to, the building, and abused the Superior. 
 Coon never meant to tell this — he did not wish to tell it — but 
 being put on oath, he yields like an honest man, his regard for 
 the prisoner, to the obligation of his oath. 
 
 Next, we have Gerry, — and, if you believe him, there can 
 be no doubt of the guilt of Buzzell. Had I time, I would de- 
 vote a quarter of an hour to some remarks upon the manner in 
 which this witness was treated on the stand, by the counsel for 
 the prisoner — upon the cruelty exercised towards him. 1 hold 
 the treatment received by Col. Gerry, a few days ago, to be 
 the most perfect piece of violence ever perpetrated in a court 
 of justice. Elbridge Gerry, the name of the witness, is a name, 
 which, to me personally, is entitled to the high est respect ; 
 but the present witness, who bears it, I have never before had 
 the pleasure to see, or know. This witness picked up, out of 
 mere curiosity, two or three trifling prints (children’s pictures,) 
 gthat were lying on the ound, near where he w T as standing. 
 He carried them home — showed them, as curiosities, to every 
 one who came to his house — made no secret of the matter — 
 and, for this, he has been represented as a thief ; and, I believe, 
 one of the gentlemen on the other side (Mr. F arley,) insinuated 
 that part of the one thousand dollars, stolen from the Superior’s 
 desk, might have found its way into Col. Gerry’s pockets. If, 
 gentlemen of the jury, you believe these insinuations against 
 Gerry, so wholly gratuitous and imaginary, and do not believe 
 the evidence which has been adduced against the prisoner, you 
 will “ strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.” Gentlemen, I 
 protest against this outrage on Col. Gerry. It is in the worst 
 style of the worst sort of the offensiveness of the Bar, and I call 
 
25 
 
 on you to protect yourselves, by protecting him. But I dismiss 
 this subject, believing Col. Gerry’s character to be too well 
 known to be injured by the coarse remarks of my learned 
 friends ; and ask you, in God’s name, what possible motive these 
 witnesses can have to perjure themselves, or to induce them to 
 seek Buzzell’s life ? Gerry has a peculiar faculty,* and he tells 
 you, in the most positive and confident terms, that he saw Buz- 
 zed busy among the mob ; says he could distinguish his features, 
 with as much certainty, as he could those of a person on the 
 other side of the Court. 
 
 Now comes Edward Phelps. Nobody came unscathed 
 from the hands of my learned brethren — none escaped without 
 a shot of some kind — and to this witness it was objected, that 
 he said he would not criminate himself. He was asked, if he 
 was a thief, and he replied, indignantly, “ No ! and if I was, I 
 would not criminate myself, by telling you.” I can only say, 
 continued Mr. Attorney, that if these attempts of the gentlemen 
 on the other side are successful, trial by jury will very soon be 
 brought into contempt. Phelps corroborates Gerry, and identi- 
 fies Buzzell. 
 
 Littlefield is the next witness, and he corroborates Gerry, 
 excepting in relation to the manner of bringing the tar barrel. 
 Gerry says, the prisoner brought the barrel on his shoulder, and 
 Littlefield, that he carried it in front of his person. Is this a 
 contradiction ? The apparent difference is easily reconciled. 
 Both witnesses did not see the prisoner at the same moment. 
 He had, probably, a mile to go for the tar barrel, and did not 
 carry it in the same position the whole way. When Littlefield 
 saw him, he had it in front, and when Gerry saw him, he bore it 
 on his shoulder. Where is the inconsistency ? It is in the 
 argument of the learned gentlemen. The witnesses do not say 
 that they both saw the man at the same moment. 
 
 This brings us up to the tar barrel affair. He is seen busy in 
 
 * The Attorney General alluded to Col. Gerry’s sporting capability. He, 
 (Col. G.) stated on the stand, that he could tell, in the night-time, the names 
 of the various birds that rose before him. 
 
 4 
 
26 
 
 making the bonfire, and, when this signal-fire is lighted, and the 
 gathering multitude of rioters assemble, and all is ready, where 
 did he go ? Where was he while the convent was being sack- 
 ed ? He was not seen, at that time, by any witness, but Buck 
 and Logan. This strikes me as a fact of immense importance. 
 He is not seen any where out of the convent, at this time, when, 
 they say, he was within. But when the building is in flames, 
 and all are forced to leave it, the prisoner is again seen, by Jes- 
 se Templeton and Asa D. Parker. When all is over, he 
 comes down to the engine, and is there asked to sing the Io 
 Triumphe, or the Jim Crow of the mob. 
 
 Now, here is a chain of evidence, every link of which you 
 may ring, and it sounds truly. It is without flaw — there is no 
 gainsaying it, but by denying the truth of all human testimony. 
 
 Jesse Templeton is brought here, and says, that he took 
 gin and molasses with Buzzell, at Ford’s store, on the night of 
 the fire. They would have this an alibi. They say, that Buz- 
 zell could not have been at the store, and at the fire, at one and 
 the same time. But he went from the shop to the house, then 
 to the gate, and got there, as already stated. Fay was then at 
 the gate, where he came, thrusting himself in, and exclaiming^ 
 boisterously, that he was the man who whipped their Irishman. 
 So far from being a contradiction, it is a coincidence. It proves, 
 that, after leaving work, he took gin — fit preparation for the 
 outrage he was about to commit — then went towards his house, 
 and afterwards to the gate. Azariah Holmes says, he saw him 
 at Kelley’s house, at nine, by his (Holmes’,) watch. The 
 prisoner’s counsel would have us believe, that all this was meas- 
 ured by “ Shrewsbury clock,” instead of the “ turnips” these 
 men carry. When Buzzell came from Ford’s, he might have 
 stopped a little time at his boarding house, and then gone to 
 the Convent gate. There is not the slightest inconsistency in 
 this. He had to pass by his boarding house, on his way to the 
 gate, and it is quite natural that he should have stopped there 
 for a few moments, and been seen, as stated by one of the pre- 
 vious witnesses. Or he might have gone there after the inter- 
 view with Fay. his, however, is not my view of the case* 
 
27 
 
 1 believe he was first at F ord’s, then at Kelley’s, and next at 
 the Convent gate. This explains the testimony of his brother, 
 who might have seen him sitting on the grass, as stated, either 
 before, or after, he was seen by Judge F ay. I beg you, gen- 
 tlemen, to observe these coincidences. Judge Fay got to the 
 Convent at a certain time. Runey comes, and the crowd of 
 people at the gate disperse. The children at the nunnery go 
 to bed, and there is an interval of an hour’s quietness, at the 
 expiration of which, the prisoner was seen to go up to the gate. 
 He might have gone back, after his conversation with Fay, 
 been in Kelley’s yard for half an hour, and still in time to fetch 
 the tar-barrels for the bonfire. This is the identification as to 
 time, and, if I am not deceived, it is perfect. There is no in- 
 consistency in any part of it. 
 
 I now proceed to the identification by circumstances. No 
 one doubts there was a man at the Convent gate, who had 
 distinguishing marks about him. No one doubts that this 
 man spoke to Judge Fay, and gave that gentleman a vul- 
 gar name as his own. He said, also, that he had licked 
 their Irishman, and called himself “old R.” or Barrett 
 .and Sisson tell you what is not true. Who then is “ old 
 R.”? It is the common nickname of the prisoner. I will not 
 detain you on this point. To a greater or less extent, it was 
 known to several of the witnesses, and one of the swiftest wit- 
 nesses for the Defendant says, that one of the Buzzells was so 
 called, and David Kelley says, he has heard him call himself 
 by that name. This man was also large and stout ; he 
 was in his shirt sleeves, had a white tarpaulin hat, clay on his 
 clothes, looked like a brickmaker, and made threats ; finally, 
 went down to Runey’s wagon. There are eight particular cir- 
 cumstances by which this man, whoever he was, is known ; viz. 
 he gave a vulgar name to Judge Fay ; licked an Irishman ; cal- 
 led himself “ old R.” ; was a large, tall man ; was in his shirt 
 sleeves, and had a tarpaulin hat; w 7 as a brickmaker; made 
 threats that the convent should come down ; and, when Judge 
 Fay left, went down to Runey’s wagon. Now you are to 
 inquire, what man answers to these marks. The prisoner con- 
 forms to them in every particular. He was the man who gave 
 
28 
 
 the vulgar answer ; the man who licked their Irishman ; who 
 called himself “ old R.” ; who was in his shirt sleeves ; he was 
 a brickmaker ; he made threats ; and, finally, went down to 
 Runey’s wagon. 
 
 But there is a man who says he knows Buzzell, and saw an 
 individual, whom he took for Buzzell, on the night of the fire, 
 but afterwards found he was mistaken. This is to say, that 
 there was another tall man at the fire besides Buzzell. You 
 cannot get an hundred men together, without finding a tall man 
 among them. But the prisoner at the bar is not identified by 
 his tallness. Smith says, he thought it was Buzzell, but after- 
 wards found it was not him. Suppose it to be so, how does it 
 weaken the Government’s case ? It only shows that somebody 
 like Buzzell was also at the fire. Will you discredit the host 
 of witnesses you have heard, because Smith happened to see a 
 man, whom he mistook for Buzzell ? But he might have seen 
 Buzzell; the latter might have retired into the crowd, and 
 Smith might have spoken to another person. It is an important 
 fact that no man ever comes into court with a direct perjury. 
 The flattering unction such a man lays to his soul is equivoca- 
 tion. He never dares to raise his hand to God, with a direct 
 falsehood upon his lips ; but equivocates, and “ palters with us 
 in a double sense.” When Smith swears he saw a man whom 
 he thought was Buzzell, he, perhaps, speaks truly ; but he does 
 not say, that the man he spoke to, was the same man he so 
 supposed to be Buzzell. And why are you now called upon 
 to give this man implicit credence ? Is it because he says, that, 
 after this iniquitous outrage, he held his peace ? He knew all 
 these brickmakers, and was asked about them before the Bos- 
 ton Committee, but he would give no information. They pro- 
 ceeded to investigate this matter ; they wanted to know, not 
 only who did the mischief, but who were present at the fire, in 
 order that information might be obtained from them. This 
 young man was sent for ; he was inquired of ; but he is dumb 
 as the tomb. He will not tell, because, as he says, he is afraid 
 of getting people into trouble. He was there himself, and 
 .he was called before the committee, but he did not get into 
 
29 
 
 trouble. If he knew the makers of this mischief, he would not get 
 them into trouble. He consents to the mischief. His secrecy is 
 strange, and it will be well for him if the grand jury do not think 
 so. Any man who has knowledge of the commission of an act of 
 villainy, and of the names of the offenders, and refuses to impart 
 that knowledge, is guilty of a misdemeanor. When the Governor, 
 and the magistrates of Charlestown, issued their offer of reward for 
 information, it became the duty of every good citizen, to tell all he 
 knew about the matter ; not for the sake of the reward, but to fur- 
 ther the ends of justice. The Court will tell you it is misprision 
 of felony to conceal the names of any concerned, and that that 
 offence puts every man committing it, in danger of the state 
 prison. This young man came upon the stand to publish his 
 own conduct. I leave you, therefore, to decide upon the degree 
 of consideration which ought to be given to his subsequent tes- 
 timony. 
 
 The counsel for the prisoner tell us we should have sent for 
 this individual to identify the prisoner. A pretty course that 
 would have been, when he had already declared to the Com- 
 mittee, that he would not point out any of the offenders, although 
 he knew them. Some of the statements made by Smith, I 
 doubt not, are true ; but you are to decide if he keeps a lit- 
 eral truth on his lips, ;.while he gives you a substantial false- 
 hood. Suppose he did see a man he thought was 
 
 Buzzell, and afterwards found it was not him ; is that 
 
 circumstance to do away the testimony of Gerry, Fay, and 
 all the others, who tell you they did see him ? You cannot 
 expect to find a capital ease without some difficulty of this kind. 
 If there were no difficulty, you, gentlemen, would not be sitting 
 where you are. The constable would do as well as twelve men. 
 It is your sacred duty to look to this matter ; not to be deceived ; 
 not to allow these double-dealing men to influence you. Do not 
 expect that you are always to have the current in your favor, 
 or that the first rock is to make shipwreck of the case. 
 
 The gentlemen would have you believe that the tall, seafaring 
 man, with large whiskers, was mistaken for Buzzell, throughout 
 
30 
 
 the whole affair ; and yet, they tell ^you that this man had on a 
 coat, which he took off and threw upon the engine, at the time 
 the convent was in flames, while Judge Fay tells you positively, 
 that the man he saw at the gate was long before in his shirt 
 sleeves. The whole character of the man seen by Fay, 
 was that of a brickmaker, and not a seaman. This brickmaker, 
 who gave a filthy answer to Judge Fay, said, also, he licked an 
 Irishman, and, in connection with this, remarked, that “ they 
 knew him up there, and would know more of him by and by.” 
 Now this individual was a man of peculiar size and character, 
 and it will not do to talk of Tom, Dick and Harry, in relation 
 to the whipping spoken of. This man was a man “ whom the 
 convent people knew, and of whom they would know more.” 
 Justice Soley, Drs. Thompson and Rossiter, say, that he was 
 whipped, and there never was but one Irish domestic at the 
 convent whipped. Who whipped him ? The prisoner at the 
 bar. Rossiter swears that Buzzell whipped him, and Stearns, 
 also, swears that he saw the brutal injury inflicted. This 
 changes the burden of proof, from the government to the defend- 
 ant. If a man, at a certain time, says he did a certain thing, 
 and the man, so saying, is distinguished by marks and numbers, 
 and, if, when called to answer, the prisoner answers to these 
 marks and numbers, he must, to get clear of the fact, find just 
 such a man as himself, who answers to such marks and numbers. 
 That other Irishmen may have been whipped by brickmakers is 
 true. The gentlemen on the opposite have all the brickmakers in 
 Charlestown within reach of a process ; the whole Treasury of 
 the Commonwealth is at their command, to procure the atten- 
 dance of a witness of this kind, and if such an one could have 
 been found, you would have seen him on the stand. It is for 
 the prisoner to prove, that another man than he spoke to Judge 
 Fay at the gate, and whipped an Irish domestic of the convent, 
 and called himself “old R.” The burden of proof rests upon him. 
 The books are full of instances of this kind. One man’s sword is 
 found sticking in the body of another, and the former is seen run- 
 ning away. Now it is possible that the sword of the person run- 
 nning away might have been stolen, and used to commit the mur- 
 
31 
 
 der; but it is for him to prove this. So in the present case. The 
 prisoner has to prove that another brickmaker whipped one of the 
 convent| Irishmen. That the man at the gate did allude to an Irish- 
 man at the convent, cannot be doubted. It does not rest on the tes- 
 timony of Fay alone. Thaxter corroborates Fay, and swears 
 that what the prisoner said, was in allusion to the convent peo- 
 ple. So, also, is the testimony of Barrett and Sisson. 
 
 I ask you, gentlemen, not to suffer yourselves to be frightened 
 by possibilities. If we suffer possibilities to take the place of 
 probabilities, we shall never get along in any case. When a 
 man says he did a thing, and we prove that he did it, there is 
 conclusive evidence. He must show that we are mistaken. 
 In this case, he must show a brickmaker, in his shirt sleeves, 
 speaking to Fay, at the convent gate, who whipped one of the 
 convent Irishmen. But he does not do so. All he attempts 
 to show, is, that Irishmen have been whipped. 
 
 The mob held a caucus ; a sort of infernal town meeting. 
 This is the evidence of Littlefield, Hogan and Gerry. They 
 tell you that a ring was made, and that Buzzell was there ; 
 that the mob consulted together, and, thinking they had not 
 enough hands, were on the point of dispersing, when the same 
 sort of man that spoke with Fay at the gate, undertakes to stop 
 them, and tells them, if they will wait fifteen minutes, he will 
 bring a tar barrel. This is agreed to, and he goes off, shortly 
 returns with a tar barrel, and the witnesses see him assist in 
 kindling the flames. One of the mob is then sent off to ring the 
 Charlestown bell, the engines come, people assemble, and the 
 rioters then commence pulling down the building. I might 
 rest the case here. It stands securely at this stage of the evi- 
 dence. 
 
 I am reminded that the senior counsel for the defence took a 
 distinction here, and contended that this defendant might have 
 been at the gate, and talked with Judge Fay, and still be igno- 
 rant of the subsequent outrages at the convent. It would be 
 easy to show, that the distinction, taken by the learned gentle- 
 man, is groundless ; it is not necessary, however, that I should 
 do so, because we prove the prisoner to have been both at the 
 
32 
 
 gate on the bonfire, and engaged in the destruction of the con- 
 vent. He runs through the whole piece — is found in every 
 scene. We have adduced abundant evidence, to change the 
 burden of proof. If the prisoner was not at the bonfire, but 
 among his friends, he could have brought them all here to show 
 it- But he does not do so. 
 
 We come now to other testimony, which, however, you 
 might throw out entirely, without weakening the case for 
 the government. Buck is an accomplice. What then ? An 
 accomplice is a competent witness. But Buck, they say, is a 
 scoundrel. A scoundrel is, then, a competent witness. A thief 
 may impeach his companions. He is a knave, like his accom- 
 plices ; but if the law permits him to take the stand, he is a 
 competent witness, and you must hear him. 
 
 Now look at Henry Buck, a lad of 19. Do you believe he 
 set this thing going ? that he had such a regard for the Protes- 
 tant religion, as to pull down a Catholic convent ? Do you be- 
 lieve he would have cared one cent, if it had been a Turkish 
 mosque, or a seraglio ? Think you he would have removed 
 one stone, in order to preserve the public morals from con- 
 tamination ? Not he ! Some one set him on. I cannot tell you 
 who it was ; my tongue is tied. But he was set on, and the 
 parties who set him on may one day be known ; I think I know 
 them now There are some rules of law, on the subject of ac- 
 complices, worthy your notice. [The Attorney General then 
 stated them at large.] This witness complies with these rules. 
 He tells his own agency in the transaction. He keeps nothing 
 back ; he discloses all his guilt. He does not hide his share of 
 crime. It is necessary, that he should be corroborated, in order 
 to be believed ; for although men have been condemned on the 
 uncorroborated testimony of an accomplice, that would not be 
 safe, and I would not advise it, on any occasion. 
 
 Let me call your attention to the policy of the law in rela- 
 tion to this matter. Criminals fear and distrust their compan- 
 ions. There would be no safety for honest men, if rogues might 
 confederate without fear of each other. The law means to 
 
33 
 
 break up the adage of “ honor among thieves.” It means to 
 destroy their confidence in each other. We might shut up all 
 Courts of Justice, was the law otherwise. The sheriff cannot, 
 in nine cases out of ten, go after a thief, until he has got infor- 
 mation from an accomplice. If you will not believe an accom- 
 plice, you bind all these villains together. The murder at 
 Salem would have remained undiscovered, but for the testimony 
 of an accomplice, and that accomplice afterwards suffered death, 
 in consequence of having forfeited his pledge to the government. 
 
 This matter is of importance. We must put some confidence 
 in an accomplice, or it would be useless to permit him to take 
 the stand. There is public policy in this. Our greatest 
 security consists in rendering villains distrustful of their confed- 
 erates. By this means, they are obliged to go to work singly, 
 and the danger from confederacy and numbers is at an end. 
 Were there no receivers, their w^ould be no thieves. Whenever 
 stolen property is not recovered by the rightful owner, it is be- 
 cause the thieves have been true to each other. If you declare 
 that you will not credit an accomplice, you bind all these men 
 together as a band of brothers. They will say among them- 
 selves, “ There is no danger of this fellow impeaching us; if he 
 does, he cannot convict us, for these incredulous jurors will not 
 believe a word he says.” The counsel for the prisoner ask 
 you, gentlemen, to put this language into the mouths of all these 
 villains ; to give them a carte blanche for mischief. I caution 
 you not to establish a principle of this kind. Look at the testi- 
 mony of this accomplice, and see if it is not corroborated. If it 
 is not, give him to the wind; but if it is, do not fear to do 
 your duty. 
 
 Let us see, then, if he is corroborated. In the first place, 
 he accuses a man who is pitched upon by sixteen other witnes- 
 ses. In this respect he is corroborated. Buck says, he saw 
 Buzzell tear down the convent fence, and help to make the 
 bonfire. Hogan, Gerry, Littlefield and Phelps, say the same 
 thing. He says that Buzzell brought a tar barrel, and set it on 
 
 fire, in order to collect a crowd, and the fact is stated by several 
 5 
 
34 
 
 other witnesses. The only statement of Buck’s which is not 
 corroborated, is his assertion that he knew Buzzell. And in 
 this saying, he only clinches the nail that had been driven by 
 others. The devil, we are told, can quote scripture ; and a 
 thief, I tell you, may, under certain circumstances, speak the 
 truth. No man comes on the stand, and undertakes to tell a 
 long and false story, without leaving loop-holes, which such coun- 
 sel as the gentlemen on the other side would quickly discern, 
 and through which they would quickly cut up his testimony. 
 
 Buck says he went to the convent, and committed 
 depredations, and that he saw Buzzell there also. This tes- 
 timony does not stand alone, because if you prove the pris- 
 oner to have been engaged in the affair of the tar barrels,, it 
 is to be supposed that he also went into the convent. Had 
 Buck told you that he saw Buzzell busy with the tar barrels, 
 and did not see him in the building, you might, with reason 
 and propriety, have doubted his veracity. When Buck 
 comes to the interior of the convent, we are able to corrobo- 
 rate him by Logan. Logan was never known to Buck ; they 
 only happened to be in the convent together, and saw and 
 described the same occurrences. Thus far, then, the ac- 
 complice answers all claims made upon him. But I will go 
 further. I have said he is to tell you the whole truth. Judge 
 whether or not he has done so. He is a boy hanging loose 
 on the world. He told you where ha was born — the different 
 places he had worked at — and even that he had changed his 
 name. He did not know that people would be brought in 
 from the different places where he had resided, — he did not 
 know, when he w 7 as questioned by counsel, that he should be 
 confronted with his employers, — yet you saw he answered 
 truly the questions that were put to him. 
 
 It is an important fact, also, that no part of the evidence 
 given in court by the other witnesses, was knowm to him ; 
 he never heard a w T ord of it. If, therefore, these witnesses 
 corroborate him, he must have drawn the testimony ,he gave 
 here from the same fountain of truth. 
 
 He has told you of two meetings at the school-house. And 
 
35 
 
 upon this point we can offer you no other testimony, because 
 all who were present there were accomplices also. But in this 
 respect, circumstances, that cannot lie, corroborate him. It 
 was well known that the convent was to come down. The 
 stageman knew it on Saturday — several of the witnesses 
 from Boston knew it. Mr. Thaxter heard of it in Water- 
 town. There were rumors every where. How came these 
 rumors abroad ? There must have been a confederacy. 
 Buck tells you there were two meetings of the conspirators, 
 and that they did not then proceed to action, because they 
 had not hands enough for the work. x\nd w 7 as there net a 
 caucus held at the gate, on the night of the fire, where the 
 same statements were made? Was there not a ring formed, 
 and did they not propose to put off ihe outrage till another 
 night, because they were not then strong enough to do the 
 infernal deed?” Here is confirmation of Buck’s statement, 
 “ strong as proof of holy writ.” 
 
 But the learned gentlemen attempt to disprove his testimony 
 by that of Tufts , who, they say„ lived near the school-house, 
 and did not know any thing of the meetings. Most u lame 
 and impotent conclusion.” The witness himself stated be- 
 fore you, gentlemen, that he was usually abed and asleep be- 
 fore the hour at which the meetings took place. But Buck 
 puts himself completely into your power, in this matter. He 
 tells you that he was sent to call Kelley’s men to the second 
 meeting, and that they replied they were “ all up to it, and 
 would be there.” If he spoke falsely, how easily might he 
 be contradicted. But not one of Kelley’s men came forward 
 to contradict him. Again, Buck is asked how he came to 
 go down to the convent on the night of the fire, and he says 
 he did so in consequence of what Mr. Adams told him. If 
 he told a lie in this particular, why is not Mr. Adams here to 
 prove the falsehood. Gentlemen, take my word for it, no 
 man puts himself in the power of another if he means to tell 
 lies. Liars deal in generalities, not in minutiae. Buck says, 
 that when the ring was formed, the mob were not at first dis- 
 posed to commence the work of destruction ; they said there 
 
36 
 
 were not enough hands. Does not Gerry tell you the 
 same thing ? Buck here puts it in the power of Gerry or 
 the other witnesses to contradict him if he had spoken false- 
 ly. He says also, that about thirty of the mob went up to 
 the convent and shouted, but came down again without doing 
 any thing, and this statement is confirmed by the Superior 
 and Gerry ; the latter heard the shouts at a considerable dis- 
 tance. He tells you about the tar barrels, the Charlestown 
 bells being rung, and the engines coming. If these things 
 were not so — if he had told falsehoods, they could be in- 
 stantly detected ; but on the contrary, he is confirmed by all 
 the witnesses. There is another important fact illustrative 
 of Buck’s veracity. He tells you that it was proposed to 
 tear down a blacksmith’s shop, a piece of mischief which 
 was doubtless projected for the purpose of keeping the mob 
 together. Now there was no need of his telling this if it 
 were not true. It does not bear upon the case at all. 
 Phelps says there was something of this kind. That it was 
 proposed to pull down some hovels near a blacksmith’s shop. 
 Even this minute truth Buck tells you in his anxiety to fulfil 
 the terms of his contract with the government. He says 
 also that Kelley was at one of these meetings ; there again 
 you might contradict him if be lied. He says that the mob 
 did not break Kelley’s fence, when they were told that it was 
 his. Look at the plan, Gentlemen, which has been made by 
 the surveyor, and you will find Kelley’s fence untouched. 
 Again he says, that one of the engines that came up first, in- 
 stead of going to the bonfire, proceeded strait up the avenue 
 to the convent. There the enginemen might disprove his tes- 
 timony were it not true. He tells you the extraordinary fact 
 (which I am happy to say can be satisfactorily explained) 
 that of the engine going from the fire instead of to it. Im- 
 mediately afterwards the Convent was attacked, and here he 
 begins to show you his own agency in the affair. He tells 
 you that he took a piece of wood and with others jammed the 
 door open. Hooper and Balfour, and many others, say 
 this was the way their entry was made. He next informs 
 
37 
 
 you that the mob waited till they had ascertained if the in- 
 mates were all out ; and Hooper says he told them that 
 there was a sick woman and children within the building, and 
 they said they should not be hurt, but that the Cross must 
 come down. Buck then states that he got into the Convent 
 and commenced throwing out the furniture, &c.; and Hooper 
 tells you he was obliged to get from under the windows to 
 avoid being struck by the articles which were cast out. 
 Buck says, the mob were armed with pieces of wood, and 
 this is confirmed by Logan and others. Here then are facts 
 stated, all of which might be controverted if they were not 
 founded in truth, but which are in the fullest manner con- 
 firmed. Buck is now inside the building ; there he says he 
 took property himself and saw others take it, — saw them 
 breaking open drawers and commencing a work of plunder 
 which I trust will never again disgrace this country. He 
 says, lights were procured from an engine torch, and 
 Hooper says the same. The next fact he tells you is that 
 
 HE SAW BuZZELL THERE WITH A CLUB IN HIS HAND. 
 
 Now look at this in connection with what has been stated by 
 other witnesses. Barrett tells you that Buzzell said he was 
 u ready to be the first man to break into the Convent,” and 
 here is Buck who saw him in the building with a club in his 
 hand. Sissons and Barrett say they heard him say “ I am 
 old R. and will be on hand.” The time had come for him to 
 be on hand. Nobody was likely to see him but an accom- 
 plice, and here is the accomplice testifying to the fact. 
 
 Buck says there were lights, and Balfour and Logan tell you 
 that the mob lighted the candles which they found in the 
 Convent. He states too that the first fire was made in the 
 chapel, and Draper confirms this statement. Buck is cautious; 
 he does not tell more than he actually saw. He did not see 
 Buzzell set the fire, and he says so. If he wanted to convict 
 Buzzell he would say he saw him fire the building, burn the 
 bible, trample on the cross, heave out the image of the Sa- 
 viour, and participate in all that brutality of outrage which 
 disgraced the horrid scene, and which makes the heart sick 
 
33 
 
 to contemplate — but he does not. He does not unnecessa- 
 rily or falsely criminate the prisoner. He says Li I broke in 
 the door, but Buzzell did not.” If he came here to lie, 
 why not do so through thick and thin. He has not said any 
 one thing from the beginning to the end which any body 
 contradicts under oath. He has said that there was a per- 
 son called Cutter at the meeting at the schoolhouse. It is 
 not pretended that either Mr. Fitz or Mr. Edward Cutter 
 was the person alluded to ; but still there may have been 
 a Cutter at the meetings. Did every one use his own name? 
 Who was the Mr. Cutter at the meeting may come out in 
 due time. What is rhore likely than that men engaged in 
 such an affair as this should take other men’s names?. Nick- 
 names we know were in vogue among them. Kelley, for 
 example, was called Priest Kelly and sometimes Priest. 
 Suppose another individual chose to take the appellation of 
 Cutter Jones, and was addressed by the first name, Cutler, 
 for shortness? Why should he bring Cutter’s name into this 
 matter if he had not heard it? What motive was there for 
 him to do so? None but his determination to tell the whole 
 truth, even the most minute circumstance. He knows that 
 he agreed to tell every thing, and he feels the necessity of 
 keeping his word. And permit me to tell you that the most 
 valuable service rendered by an accomplice is his testifying, 
 not so much to positive as to collateral facts. 
 
 There is another important point connected with this part of 
 the subject. Buck was present during the whole affair, and 
 knew his associates — he knew who was guilty. If Buzzell 
 had not been engaged in the transaction, is it likely that Buck 
 would have selected him? Would he, if he wanted to procure 
 a conviction as the gentleman says, have selected an innocent 
 man, when there were so many guilty ones around him, who 
 would have so much better answered his purpose ? He would 
 have felt sure that ah innocent man would have convicted him 
 of falsehood. Is it likely, even supposing his own safety to 
 depend upon his procuring the conviction of another, that he 
 would, bad as he may be, have so gratuitously undertaken to 
 
39 
 
 swear away the life of an innocent man ? — that lie should have 
 put himself to the trouble of inventing a tale of guilt, and ex- 
 pose himself to the hazard of maintaining it on the stand, 
 when there were so many guilty persons on all sides of him, 
 and the story of their guilt ready made to his hands ? No, 
 gentlemen, depend upon it, if Buck says this man is guilty, he 
 is guilty. Buck could have no motive for testifying falsely in 
 this respect. Again, is not the charge .against. Buzzell in per- 
 fect accordance with the character of that individual ? The 
 gentlemen talk of his good character. No man can have a 
 good character who would beat another in the way that he beat 
 Rossiter. Buzzell is a large man ; in comparison with him, 
 Rossiter is a baby. Judge of his character from his behavior 
 to Judge Fay at the gate. Afterwards, when the convent was 
 on fire — when every other man’s heart would have sunk into 
 his shoes, this man is called upon to sing the lo triumphe, and 
 with a vulgar song crown the atrocities of the night. But I 
 have not done with the corroborations of Buck’s testimony. 
 They multiply under my hands. He says, that he saw a fellow 
 carrying a brand to a small building, intending to set it on fire, 
 but that he was prevented by an engine-man, who tried to ar- 
 rest him, when the fellow cried for help, and Buzzell interfered. 
 
 1 was not able of myself to learn anything in connection with this 
 point, but the gentlemen of the defence have themselves furnished 
 me with the very thing I wanted. Barker, one of the witnesses 
 for the prisoner, told you that when the main buildings were in 
 flames, a small man and a large one came down from the con- 
 vent together, and that the former said, “ I tried twice to set 
 fire to that building, and the fool of a Charlestown engine-man 
 would not let me.” Is not this an accidental corroboration of 
 Buck, and from one of the defendant’s own witnesses ? Buck 
 was to tell the whole truth, and he has dene it. Gentlemen, 
 let me ask you to consider the condition of this individual. If 
 ever there was a person upon whom every possible obligation 
 was at once operating to make him tell the truth, that person is 
 Henry Buck. I may admit that if the screw r s were not on him, 
 he might falsify. But as it is, he comes here with the belief 
 
40 
 
 that if he is for a moment found tripping, he is a lost man. 
 There is an accusation against him, of which he has confessed 
 himself guilty ; and there is no hope for him but in telling the 
 truth. All the penalties against perjury never equalled the 
 power which is now operating upon this man, and obliging him 
 to tell the truth. Even if the Governor and Council should 
 take compassion upon his youth, the state prison, and that for 
 life, must be his lot. But the counsel for the defence say, his 
 testimony is impeached — that he was a lying boy when he 
 lived at Plainfield, and they have brought individuals from New 
 Hampshire to prove it. How idle was all this. The best an- 
 swer to it is, he has never been accused and never con- 
 victed of any previous crime. To bring boys of seventeen to 
 tell what his character was eight or nine years ago, is perfectly 
 idle. There was no need of impeaching him. He impeaches 
 himself. He tells you he is a Rioter, a Burglar, a Robber; 
 seduced in this instance by older soldiers, if not better, he 
 made war on the defenceless, he plundered the weak, he 
 drove out the women from their fire-sides, and the children 
 from their sleeping chambers. All this is horrible, most hor- 
 rible. But what then? He had assistants, aiders, abettors, 
 leaders in this terrible tragedy. He is a boy, active enough 
 to execute, but unable to plan — ready to follow, but incom- 
 petent to lead. He knows his leaders, his associates, his 
 companions in the midnight conclaves, and in that awful 
 eruption which seemed as if all hell had poured its legions of 
 infernal spirits to molest and to madden us. Who are they? 
 He knows, and he tells you. He tells you the prisoner is 
 one. Doubt him if you can. But look to it, that in profess- 
 ing to doubt what he says, you are not reckoned among 
 those who are most deaf because they will not hear, and 
 most blind because they willingly shut their eyes to the light. 
 Have reason for your doubts, and do not make your own 
 scepticism, your own unwillingness to believe, generate your 
 supposed incredulity. Above all, gentlemen, take care that 
 nobody shall say of you, you were willing to doubt, from 
 
41 
 
 sympathy for the actors, or want of indignation for their exe- 
 crable act. Buck’s crime is not the worst that can be com- 
 mitted. He was an accessary to this deed of shame in the 
 excitement of warm blood, in the ardor of the moment, in 
 the thoughtlessness and rashness of youth. They will be 
 accessaries after the fact, who calmly, coolly, deliberately 
 justify the incendiaries, or seek for any possible excuse to 
 shelter them from punishment. 
 
 I now proceed to the testimony of James Logan ; and here 
 I should be justified in making a complaint, for Logan has 
 been seriously injured. We supposed the character of all the 
 witnesses might be attacked, excepting that of Messrs. Fay 
 and Thaxter, and we had inquired about Logan, and produc- 
 ed evidence as to his character; but when the prisoner’s 
 counsel for the defence said he should not attack Logan’s 
 reputation, we told that person these witnesses need not re- 
 main. The very next morning, however, the gentleman 
 opened his battery upon Logan, bringing persons in Logan’s 
 own trade to testify against him. Gardeners, certainly, are 
 not the most important persons in the world to give opinions 
 as to the witness’ character. Two of a trade never agree, 
 and perhaps in the present case Logan may have said their 
 grapes were sour, or his may have been a little acid to their 
 taste. But how is it on the other side. Although so short a 
 time has been allowed, you have heard several of your most 
 respectable fellow citizens, (among the rest, the Rev. Mr. 
 Byrne), testify that the character of Logan is good; that they 
 never heard anything against him. But the gentlemen of the 
 defence say that his evidence is worth nothing — that “their 
 not having heard anything against Logan,” is but negative 
 testimony. If the men in whose families Logan has lived 
 for many years, know nothing against him, his character is 
 good. And here is his priest. You have heard something 
 in this case, of auricular confession, and I need not tell you, 
 that if Logan had done anything wrong, the priest would 
 know it. Permit me to tell you, that the testimony of Lo- 
 fi 
 
42 
 
 gan’s clergyman is the very best testimony you could possibly 
 have. 
 
 If Logan is even put out of the case by the attack that has 
 been made upon him, the guilt of the prisoner is ascertained 
 beyond a doubt. It may have seemed strange to you, gen- 
 tlemen, that Logan should have accompanied the rioters from 
 room to room, and taken from the convent several articles. 
 His conduct ivould be strange in this particular, but for two 
 circumstances. Logan is a Catholic, and he swears to you, 
 that he went to the convent for the purpose of doing what 
 good he could, and of protecting the helpless women and 
 children whom he knew w T ere within its walls. But fortu- 
 nately, there w 7 as one true hearted American within the build- 
 ing. Walter Balfour went for the honest purpose of doing 
 what he could, and all he could, for the protection of the 
 fugitive family, and identifying the persons of the miscreants 
 who were perpetratig this midnight felony. Both saw individ- 
 uals, within the building whom they knew. Logan has told 
 you, that he saw the prisoner at the bar, there, and Balfour 
 will tell more when the proper time arrives for him to do so. 
 
 And now I ask you, gentlemen, what is your duty ? If 
 you have followed me in my argument, and have found no 
 flaw in the case for the government, I ask you what you are 
 to do? If you are put on the jury to let the prisoner escape, 
 I know not but that you may do so in this, as in all cases; 
 thus bringing trial by jury into uselessness and contempt. It 
 will only be necessary for a prisoner to get false witnesses, 
 and he is safe. I ask you to examine this as you would any 
 any other case. There is no mystery about it. You have 
 been told that you are to have no reasonable doubt. Granted. 
 But what are reasonable doubts. They are not mere pos- 
 sibilities. There never was a case in which there was not a 
 possibility of a man’s being innocent. We are to see 
 whether the evidence leads the mind satisfactorily to a con- 
 viction of the prisoner’s guilt; and where three or four cred- 
 ible witnesses have sworn that he is guilty, there can be no 
 
43 
 
 reasonable doubt. It is only reasonable satisfaction that a 
 jury has any right to expect. You are not to expect to see 
 the crime committed. The murder at Salem was not com- 
 mitted in the presence of a jury. You are to put faith in 
 human testimony; in the judgment, veracity, and fairness of 
 upright and honorable men. On this, all our security in this 
 world, and all our hopes of another, mainly depend. It is 
 human testimony that governs all our actions, by which we 
 move, in all the relations of life, and by which every thing 
 dear to us is made safe and secure. You are not to doubt 
 it without cause — from caprice, or stubbornness, or general 
 incredulity. You are not, like the doubting apostle to say, 
 u Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my 
 finger into the print of the nails, I will not believe.” You 
 are to draw your conclusions from facts, and are no more at 
 liberty to palter with your oaths than a witness has to perjure 
 himself on the stand. You know that crimes will be committed; 
 that they must be punished. You know that human testimo- 
 ny can only come to a certain point; that there is a limit to 
 its power, beyond which it cannot go, or be carried. Judge 
 you, whether all has not been done in this case, that could be 
 done in any case, to satisfy your minds. Facts, of various 
 kinds and from various quarters, all converging, like the sun’s 
 rays, to one focus, have been brought before you. If, not- 
 withstanding such a concurrence of testimony and circum- 
 stances, this man is to go clear, there is an end of any confi- 
 dence in trial by jury. We may give a carte blanche to 
 criminals, for the law will henceforth be unable to restrain 
 them. If you wish to support the institutions of your coun- 
 try, you must not put yourselves on the defence in this case. 
 You must deal liberally and candidly with the government. 
 You are not to demand what no human power can give, and 
 then because it is not given set the prisoner at liberty. You 
 will view this case in the same way that you would any other; ^ 
 carefully guarding both the rights of the prisoner, and the 
 
44 
 
 best interests of the country; which country you are. Jus- 
 tice, and the supremacy of the law, are to be sustained by 
 your verdict, which will be remembered as long as your coun- 
 try exists. Gentlemen, I have done my duty, imperfectly, 
 perhaps ; go and do your’s better. 
 
 *•