Читать книгу Select Speeches of Daniel Webster, 1817-1845 - Daniel Webster - Страница 5

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Gentlemen of the Jury,--It is true that the offence charged in the indictment in this case is not capital; but perhaps this can hardly be considered as favorable to the defendants. To those who are guilty, and without hope of escape, no doubt the lightness of the penalty of transgression gives consolation. But if the defendants are innocent, it is more natural for them to be thinking upon what they have lost by that alteration of the law which has left highway robbery no longer capital, than upon what the guilty might gain by it. They have lost those great privileges in their trial, which the law allows, in capital cases, for the protection of innocence against unfounded accusation. They have lost the right of being previously furnished with a copy of the indictment, and a list of the government witnesses. They have lost the right of peremptory challenge; and, notwithstanding the prejudices which they know have been excited against them, they must show legal cause of challenge, in each individual case, or else take the jury as they find it. They have lost the benefit of assignment of counsel by the court. They have lost the benefit of the Commonwealth's process to bring in witnesses in their behalf. When to these circumstances it is added that they are strangers, almost wholly without friends, and without the means for preparing their defence, it is evident they must take their trial under great disadvantages.

But without dwelling on these considerations, I proceed, Gentlemen of the Jury, to ask your attention to those circumstances which cannot but cast doubts on the story of the prosecutor.

In the first place, it is impossible to believe that a robbery of this sort could have been committed by three or four men without previous arrangement and concert, and of course without the knowledge of the fact that Goodridge would be there, and that he had money. They did not go on the highway, in such a place, in a cold December's night, for the general purpose of attacking the first passenger, running the chance of his being somebody who had money. It is not easy to believe that a gang of robbers existed, that they acted systematically, communicating intelligence to one another, and meeting and dispersing as occasion required, and that this gang had their head-quarters in such a place as Newburyport. No town is more distinguished for the general correctness of the habits of its citizens; and it is of such a size that every man in it may be known to all the rest. The pursuits, occupations, and habits of every person within it are within the observation of his neighbors. A suspicious stranger would be instantly observed, and all his movements could be easily traced. This is not the place to be the general rendezvous of a gang of robbers. Offenders of this sort hang on the skirts of large towns. From the commission of their crimes they hasten into the crowd, and hide themselves in the populousness of great cities. If it be wholly improbable that a gang existed in such a place for the purpose of general plunder, the next inquiry is, Is there any reason to think that there was a special or particular combination, for the single purpose of robbing the prosecutor? Now it is material to observe, that not only is there no evidence of any such combination, but also, that circumstances existed which render it next to impossible that the defendants could have been parties to such a combination, or even that they could have any knowledge of the existence of any such man as Goodridge, or that any person, with money, was expected to come from the eastward, and to be near Essex Bridge, at or about nine o'clock, the evening when the robbery is said to have been committed.

One of the defendants had been for some weeks in Newburyport, the other passed the bridge from New Hampshire at twelve o'clock on the 19th of December, 1816. At this time, Goodridge had not yet arrived at Exeter, twelve or fourteen miles from the bridge. How, then, could either of the defendants know that he was coming? Besides, he says that nobody, as far as he is aware, knew on the road that he had money, and nothing happened till he reached Exeter, according to his account, from which it might be conjectured that such was the case. Here, as he relates it, it became known that he had pistols; and he must wish you to infer that the plan to rob him was laid here, at Exeter, by some of the persons who inferred that he had money from his being armed. Who were these persons? Certainly not the defendants, or either of them. Certainly not Taber. Certainly not Jackman. Were they persons of suspicious characters? Was he in a house of a suspicious character? On this point he gives us no information. He has either not taken the pains to inquire, or he chooses not to communicate the result of his inquiries. Yet nothing could be more important, since he seems compelled to lay the scene of the plot against him at Exeter, than to know who the persons were that he saw, or who saw him, at that place. On the face of the facts now proved, nothing could be more improbable than that the plan of robbery was concerted at Exeter. If so, why should those who concerted it send forward to Newburyport to engage the defendants, especially as they did not know that they were there? What should induce any persons so suddenly to apply to the defendants to assist in a robbery? There was nothing in their personal character or previous history that should induce this.

Nor was there time for all this. If the prosecutor had not lingered on the road, for reasons not yet discovered, he must have been in Newburyport long before the time at which he states the robbery to have been committed. How, then, could any one expect to leave Exeter, come to Newburyport, fifteen miles, there look out for and find out assistants for a highway robbery, and get back two miles to a convenient place for the commission of the crime? That any body should have undertaken to act thus is wholly improbable; and, in point of fact, there is not the least proof of any body's travelling, that afternoon, from Exeter to Newburyport, or of any person who was at the tavern at Exeter having left it that afternoon. In all probability, nothing of this sort could have taken place without being capable of detection and proof. In every particular, the prosecutor has wholly failed to show the least probability of a plan to rob him having been laid at Exeter.

But how comes it that Goodridge was near or quite four hours and a half in travelling a distance which might have been travelled in two hours or two hours and a half. He says he missed his way, and went the Salisbury road. But some of the jury know that this could not have delayed him more than five or ten minutes. He ought to be able to give some better account of this delay.

Failing, as he seems to do, to create any belief that a plan to rob him was arranged at Exeter, the prosecutor goes back to Alfred, and says he saw there a man whom Taber resembles. But Taber is proved to have been at that time, and at the time of the robbery, in Boston. This is proved beyond question. It is so certain, that the Solicitor-General has nol prossed the indictment against him.

There is an end, then, of all pretence of the adoption of a scheme of robbery at Alfred. This leaves the prosecutor altogether unable to point out any manner in which it should become known that he had money, or in which a design to rob him should originate.

It is next to be considered whether the prosecutor's story is either natural or consistent. But, on the threshold of the inquiry, every one puts the question, What motive had the prosecutor to be guilty of the abominable conduct of feigning a robbery? It is difficult to assign motives. The jury do not know enough of his character or circumstances. Such things have happened, and may happen again. Suppose he owed money in Boston, and had it not to pay? Who knows how high he might estimate the value of a plausible apology? Some men have also a whimsical ambition of distinction. There is no end to the variety of modes in which human vanity exhibits itself. A story of this nature excites the public sympathy. It attracts general attention. It causes the name of the prosecutor to be celebrated as a man who has been attacked, and, after a manly resistance, overcome by robbers, and who has renewed his resistance as soon as returning life and sensation enabled him, and, after a second conflict, has been quite subdued, beaten and bruised out of all sense and sensation, and finally left for dead on the field. It is not easy to say how far such motives, trifling and ridiculous as most men would think them, might influence the prosecutor, when connected with any expectation of favor or indulgence, if he wanted such, from his creditors. It is to be remembered that he probably did not see all the consequences of his conduct, if his robbery be a pretence. He might not intend to prosecute any body. But he probably found, and indeed there is evidence to show, that it was necessary for him to do something to find out the authors of the alleged robbery. He manifested no particular zeal on this subject. He was in no haste. He appears rather to have been pressed by others to do that which, if he had really been robbed, we should suppose he would have been most earnest to do, the earliest moment.

But could he so seriously wound himself? Could he or would he shoot a pistol-bullet through his hand, in order to render the robbery probable, and to obtain belief in his story? All exhibitions are subject to accidents. Whether they are serious or farcical, they may, in some particulars, not proceed exactly as they are designed to do. If we knew that this shot through the hand, if made by himself, must have been intentionally made by himself, it would be a circumstance of greater weight. The bullet went through the sleeve of his coat. He might have intended it should go through nothing else. It is quite certain he did not receive the wound in the way he described. He says he was pulling or thrusting aside the robber's pistol, and while his hand was on it, it was fired, and the contents passed through his hand. This could not have been so, because no part of the contents went through the hand, except the ball. There was powder on the sleeve of his coat, and from the appearance one would think the pistol to have been three or four feet from the hand when fired. The fact of the pistol-bullet being fired through the hand, is doubtless a circumstance of importance. It may not be easy to account for it; but it is to be weighed with other circumstances.

It is most extraordinary, that, in the whole case, the prosecutor should prove hardly any fact in any way but by his own oath. He chooses to trust every thing on his own credit with the jury. Had he the money with him which he mentions? If so, his clerks or persons connected with him in business must have known it; yet no witness is produced. Nothing can be more important than to prove that he had the money. Yet he does not prove it. Why should he leave this essential fact without further support? He is not surprised with this defence, he knew what it would be. He knew that nothing could be more important than to prove that, in truth, he did possess the money which he says he lost; yet he does not prove it. All that he saw, and all that he did, and everything that occurred to him until the alleged robbery, rests solely on his own credit. He does not see fit to corroborate any fact by the testimony of any witness. So he went to New York to arrest Jackman. He did arrest him. He swears positively that he found in his possession papers which he lost at the time of the robbery; yet he neither produces the papers themselves, nor the persons who assisted in the search.

In like manner, he represents his intercourse with Taber at Boston. Taber, he says, made certain confessions. They made a bargain for a disclosure or confession on one side, and a reward on the other. But no one heard these confessions except Goodridge himself. Taber now confronts him, and pronounces this part of his story to be wholly false; and there is nobody who can support the prosecutor.

A jury cannot too seriously reflect on this part of the case. There are many most important allegations of fact, which, if true, could easily be shown by other witnesses, and yet are not so shown.

How came Mr. Goodridge to set out from Bangor, armed in this formal and formidable manner? How came he to be so apprehensive of a robbery? The reason he gives is completely ridiculous. As the foundation of his alarm, he tells a story of a robbery which he had heard of, but which, as far as appears, no one else ever heard of; and the story itself is so perfectly absurd, it is difficult to resist the belief that it was the product of his imagination at the moment. He seems to have been a little too confident that an attempt would be made to rob him. The manner in which he carried his money, as he says, indicated a strong expectation of this sort. His gold he wrapped in a cambric cloth, put it into a shot bag, and then into a portmanteau. One parcel of bills, of a hundred dollars in amount, he put into his pocket-book; another, of somewhat more than a thousand dollars, he carried next his person, underneath all his clothes. Having disposed of his money in this way, and armed himself with two good pistols, he set out from Bangor. The jury will judge whether this extraordinary care of his money, and this formal arming of himself to defend it, are not circumstances of a very suspicious character.

He stated that he did not travel in the night; that he would not so much expose himself to robbers. He said that, when he came near Alfred, he did not go into the village, but stopped a few miles short, because night was coming on, and he would not trust himself and his money out at night. He represents himself to have observed this rule constantly and invariably until he got to Exeter. Yet, when the time came for the robbery, he was found out at night. He left Exeter about sunset, intending to go to Newburyport, fifteen miles distant, that evening. When he is asked how this should happen, he says he had no fear of robbers after he left the District of Maine. He thought himself quite safe when he arrived at Exeter. Yet he told the jury, that at Exeter he thought it necessary to load his pistol afresh. He asked for a private room at the inn. He told the persons in attendance that he wished such a room for the purpose of changing his clothes. He charged them not to suffer him to be interrupted. But he now testifies that his object was not to change his dress, but to put new loading into his pistols. What sort of a story is this?

He says he now felt himself out of all danger from robbers, and was therefore willing to travel at night. At the same time, he thought himself in very great danger from robbers, and therefore took the utmost pains to keep his pistols well loaded and in good order. To account for the pains he took about loading his pistols at Exeter, he says it was his invariable practice, every day after he left Bangor, to discharge and load again one or both of his pistols; that he never missed doing this; that he avoided doing it at the inns, lest he should create suspicion, but that he did it, while alone, on the road, every day.

How far this is probable the jury will judge. It will be observed that he gave up his habits of caution as he approached the place of the robbery. He then loaded his pistols at the tavern, where persons might and did see him; and he then also travelled in the night. He passed the bridge over Merrimack River a few minutes before nine o'clock. He was now at a part of his progress where he was within the observation of other witnesses, and something could be known of him besides what he told of himself. Immediately after him passed the two persons with their wagons, Shaw and Keyser. Close upon them followed the mail-coach. Now, these wagons and the mail must have passed within three rods, at most, of Goodridge, at the very time of the robbery. They must have been very near the spot, the very moment of the attack; and if he was under the robbers' hands as long as he represents, or if they staid on the spot long enough to do half what he says they did, they must have been there when the wagons and the stage passed. At any rate, it is next to impossible, by any computation of time, to put these carriages so far from the spot, that the drivers should not have heard the cry of murder, which he says he raised, or the report of the two pistols, which he says were discharged. In three quarters of an hour, or an hour, he returned, and repassed the bridge.

The jury will next naturally look to the appearances exhibited on the field after the robbery. The portmanteau was there. The witnesses say, that the straps which fastened it to the saddle had been neither cut nor broken. They were carefully unbuckled. This was very considerate for robbers. It had been opened, and its contents were scattered about the field. The pocket-book, too, had been opened, and many papers it contained found on the ground. Nothing valuable was lost but money. The robbers did not think it well to go off at once with the portmanteau and the pocket- book. The place was so secure, so remote, so unfrequented; they were so far from the highway, at least one full rod; there were so few persons passing, probably not more than four or five then in the road, within hearing of the pistols and the cries of Goodridge; there being, too, not above five or six dwelling-houses, full of people, within the hearing of the report of a pistol; these circumstances were all so favorable to their safety, that the robbers sat down to look over the prosecutor's papers, carefully examined the contents of his pocket-book and portmanteau, and took only the things which they needed! There was money belonging to other persons. The robbers did not take it. They found out it was not the prosecutor's, and left it. It may be said to be favorable to the prosecutor's story, that the money which did not belong to him, and the plunder of which would seem to be the most probable inducement he could have to feign a robbery, was not taken. But the jury will consider whether this circumstance does not bear quite as strongly the other way, and whether they can believe that robbers could have left this money, either from accident or design.

The robbers, by Goodridge's account, were extremely careful to search his person. Having found money in his portmanteau and in his pocket-book, they still forthwith stripped him to the skin, and searched until they found the sum which had been so carefully deposited under his clothes. Was it likely, that, having found money in the places where it is ordinarily carried, robbers should proceed to search for more, where they had no reason to suppose more would be found? Goodridge says that no person knew of his having put his bank-notes in that situation. On the first attack, however, they proceeded to open one garment after another, until they penetrated to the treasure, which was beneath them all.

The testimony of Mr. Howard is material. He examined Goodridge's pistol, which was found on the spot, and thinks it had not been fired at all. If this be so, it would follow that the wound through the hand was not made by this pistol; but then, as the pistol is now discharged, if it had not been fired, he is not correct in swearing that he fired it at the robbers, nor could it have been loaded at Exeter, as he testified.

In the whole case, there is nothing, perhaps, more deserving consideration, than the prosecutor's statement of the violence which the robbers used towards him. He says he was struck with a heavy club, on the back part of his head. He fell senseless to the ground. Three or four rough-handed villains then dragged him to the fence, and through it or over it, with such force as to break one of the boards. They then plundered his money. Presently he came to his senses; perceived his situation; saw one of the robbers sitting or standing near; he valiantly sprung upon, and would have overcome him, but the ruffian called out for his comrades, who returned, and all together they renewed their attack upon, subdued him, and redoubled their violence. They struck him heavy blows; they threw him violently to the ground; they kicked him in the side; they choked him; one of them, to use his own words, jumped upon his breast. They left him only when they supposed they had killed him. He went back to Pearson's, at the bridge, in a state of delirium, and it was several hours before his recollection came to him. This is his account. Now, in point of fact, it is certain that on no part of his person was there the least mark of this beating and wounding. The blow on the head, which brought him senseless to the ground, neither broke the skin, nor caused any tumor, nor left any mark whatever. He fell from his horse on the frozen ground, without any appearance of injury. He was drawn through or over the fence with such force as to break the rail, but not so as to leave any wound or scratch on him. A second time he is knocked down, kicked, stamped upon, choked, and in every way abused and beaten till sense had departed, and the breath of life hardly remained; and yet no wound, bruise, discoloration, or mark of injury was found to result from all this. Except the wound in his hand, and a few slight punctures in his left arm, apparently made with his own penknife, which was found open on the spot, there was no wound or mark which the surgeons, upon repeated examinations, could anywhere discover. This is a story not to be believed. No matter who tells it, it is so impossible to be true, that all belief is set at defiance. No man can believe it. All this tale of blows which left no marks, and of wounds which could not be discovered, must be the work of imagination. If the jury can believe that he was robbed, it is impossible they can believe his account of the manner of it.

With respect, next, to delirium. The jury have heard the physicians. Two of them have no doubt it was all feigned. Dr. Spofford spoke in a more guarded manner, but it was very evident his opinion agreed with theirs. In the height of his raving, the physician who was present said to others, that he could find nothing the matter with the man, and that his pulse was perfectly regular. But consider the facts which Dr. Balch testifies. He suspected the whole of this illness and delirium to be feigned. He wished to ascertain the truth. While he or others were present, Goodridge appeared to be in the greatest pains and agony from his wounds. He could not turn himself in bed, nor be turned by others, without infinite distress. His mind, too, was as much disordered as his body. He was constantly raving about robbery and murder. At length the physicians and others withdrew, and left him alone in the room. Dr. Balch returned softly to the door, which he had left partly open, and there he had a full view of his patient, unobserved by him. Goodridge was then very quiet. His incoherent exclamations had ceased. Dr. Balch saw him turn over without inconvenience. Pretty soon he sat up in bed, and adjusted his neckcloth and his hair. Then, hearing footsteps on the staircase, he instantly sunk into the bed again; his pains all returned, and he cried out against robbers and murderers as loud as ever. Now, these facts are all sworn to by an intelligent witness, who cannot be mistaken in them; a respectable physician, whose veracity or accuracy is in no way impeached or questioned. After this, it is difficult to retain any good opinion of the prosecutor. Robbed or not robbed, this was his conduct; and such conduct necessarily takes away all claim to sympathy and respect. The jury will consider whether it does not also take away all right to be believed in anything. For if they should be of opinion that in any one point he has intentionally misrepresented facts, he can be believed in nothing. No man is to be convicted on the testimony of a witness whom the jury has found wilfully violating the truth in any particular.

The next part of the case is the conduct of the prosecutor in attempting to find out the robbers, after he had recovered from his illness. He suspected Mr. Pearson, a very honest, respectable man, who keeps the tavern at the bridge. He searched his house and premises. He sent for a conjuror to come, with his metallic rods and witch-hazel, to find the stolen money. Goodridge says now, that he thought he should find it, if the conjuror's instruments were properly prepared. He professes to have full faith in the art. Was this folly, or fraud, or a strange mixture of both? Pretty soon after the last search, gold pieces were actually found near Mr. pearson's house, in the manner stated by the female witness. How came they there? Did the robber deposit them there? That is not possible. Did he accidentally leave them there? Why should not a robber take as good care of his money as others? It is certain, too, that the gold pieces were not put there at the time of the robbery, because the ground was then bare; but when these pieces were found, there were several inches of snow below them. When Goodridge searched here with his conjuror, he was on this spot, alone and unobserved, as he thought. Whether he did not, at that time, drop his gold into the snow, the jury will judge. When he came to this search, he proposed something very ridiculous. He proposed that all persons about to assist in the search should be examined, to see that they had nothing which they could put into Pearson's possession, for the purpose of being found there. But how was this examination to be made? Why, truly, Goodridge proposed that every man should examine himself, and that, among others, he would examine himself, till he was satisfied he had nothing in his pockets which he could leave at pearson's, with the fraudulent design of being afterwards found there, as evidence against pearson. What construction would be given to such conduct?

As to Jackman, Goodridge went to New York and arrested him. In his room he says he found paper coverings of gold, with his own figures on them, and pieces of an old and useless receipt, which he can identify, and which he had in his possession at the time of the robbery. He found these things lying on the floor in Jackman's room. What should induce the robbers, when they left all other papers, to take this receipt? And what should induce Jackman to carry it to New York, and keep it, with the coverings of the gold, in a situation where it was likely to be found, and used as evidence against him?

There is no end to the series of improbabilities growing out of the prosecutor's story.

One thing especially deserves notice. Wherever Goodridge searches, he always finds something; and what he finds, he always can identify and swear to, as being his. The thing found has always some marks by which he knows it. Yet he never finds much. He never finds the mass of his lost treasure. He finds just enough to be evidence, and no more.

These are the circumstances which tend to raise doubts of the truth of the prosecutor's relation. It is for the jury to say, whether it would be safe to convict any man for this robbery until these doubts shall be cleared up. No doubt they are to judge him candidly; but they are not to make every thing yield to a regard to his reputation, or a desire to vindicate him from the suspicion of a fraudulent prosecution.

He stands like other witnesses, except that he is a very interested witness; and he must hope for credit, if at all, from the consistency and general probability of the facts to which he testifies. The jury will not convict the prisoners to save the prosecutor from disgrace. He has had every opportunity of making out his case. If any person in the State could have corroborated any part of his story, that person he could have produced. He has had the benefit of full time, and good counsel, and of the Commonwealth's process, to bring in his witnesses. More than all, he has had an opportunity of telling his own story, with the simplicity that belongs to truth, if it were true, and the frankness and earnestness of an honest man, if he be such. It is for the jury to say, under their oaths, how he has acquitted himself in these particulars, and whether he has left their minds free from doubt as to the truth of his narration.

But if Goodridge were really robbed, is there satisfactory evidence that the defendants had a hand in the commission of this offence? The evidence relied on is the finding of the money in their house. It appears that these defendants lived together, and, with a sister, constituted one family. Their father lived in another part of the same house, and with his wife constituted another and distinct family. In this house, some six weeks after the robbery, the prosecutor made a search; and the result has been stated by the witnesses. Now, if the money had been passed or used by the defendants it might have been conclusive. If found about their persons, it might have been very strong proof. But, under the circumstances of this case, the mere finding of money in their house, and that only in places where the prosecutor had previously been, is no evidence at all. With respect to the gold pieces, it is certainly true that they were found in Goodridge's track. They were found only where he had been, and might have put them.

When the sheriff was in the house and Goodridge in the cellar, gold was found in the cellar. When the sheriff was up stairs and Goodridge in the rooms below, the sheriff was called down to look for money where Goodridge directed, and there money was found. As to the bank-note, the evidence is not quite so clear. Mr. Leavitt says he found a note in a drawer in a room in which none of the party had before been; that he thought it an uncurrent or counterfeit note, and not a part of Goodridge's money, and left it where he found it, without further notice. An hour or two afterward, Upton perceived a note in the same drawer, Goodridge being then with or near him, and called to Leavitt. Leavitt told him that he had discovered that note before, but that it could not be Goodridge's. It was then examined. Leavitt says he looked at it, and saw writing on the back of it. Upton says he looked at it, and saw writing on the back of it. He says also that it was shown to Goodridge, who examined it in the same way that he and Leavitt examined it. None of the party at this time suspected it to be Goodridge's. It was then put into Leavitt's pocket-book, where it remained till evening, when it was taken out at the tavern; and then it turns out to be, plainly and clearly, one of Goodridge's notes, and has the name of "James Poor, Bangor," in Goodridge's own handwriting, on the back of it. The first thing that strikes one in this account is, Why was not this discovery made at the time? Goodridge was looking for notes, as well as gold. He was looking for Boston notes, for such he had lost. He was looking for ten-dollar notes, for such he had lost. He was looking for notes which he could recognize and identify. He would, therefore, naturally be particularly attentive to any writing or marks upon such as he might find. Under these circumstances, a note is found in the house of the supposed robbers. It is a Boston note, it is a ten-dollar note, it has writing on the back of it; that writing is the name of his town and the name of one of his neighbors; more than all, that writing is his own handwriting! Notwithstanding all this, neither Goodridge, nor Upton, nor the sheriff, examined it so as to see whether it was Goodridge's money. Notwithstanding it so fully resembled, in all points, the money they were looking for, and notwithstanding they also saw writing on the back of it, which, they must know, if they read it, would probably have shown where it came from, neither of them did so far examine it as to see any proof of its being Goodridge's.

This is hardly to be believed. It must be a pretty strong faith in the prosecutor that could credit this story. In every part of it, it is improbable and absurd. It is much more easy to believe that the note was changed. There might have been, and there probably was, an uncurrent or counterfeit note found in the drawer by Leavitt. He certainly did not at the time think it to be Goodridge's, and he left it in the drawer where he found it. Before he saw it again, the prosecutor had been in that room, and was in or near it when the sheriff was again called in, and asked to put that bill in his pocket-book. How do the jury know that this was the same note which Leavitt had before seen? Or suppose it was. Leavitt carried it to Coffin's; in the evening he produced it, and, after having been handed about for some time among the company, it turns out to be Goodridge's note, and to have upon it infallible marks of identity. How do the jury know that a sleight of hand had not changed the note at Coffin's? It is sufficient to say, the note might have been changed. It is not certain that this is the note which Leavitt first found in the drawer, and this not being certain, it is not proof against the defendants.

Is it not extremely improbable, if the defendants are guilty, that they should deposit the money in the places where it was found? Why should they put it in small parcels in so many places, for no end but to multiply the chances of detection? Why, especially, should they put a doubloon in their father's pocket-book? There is no evidence, nor any ground of suspicion, that the father knew of the money being in his pocket-book. He swears he did not know it. His general character is unimpeached, and there is nothing against his credit. The inquiry at Stratham was calculated to elicit the truth; and, after all, there is not the slightest reason to suspect that he knew that the doubloon was in his pocket-book. What could possibly induce the defendants to place it there? No man can conjecture a reason. On the other hand, if this is a fraudulent proceeding on the part of the prosecutor, this circumstance could be explained. He did not know that the pocket-book, and the garment in which it was found, did not belong to one of the defendants. He was as likely, therefore, to place it there as elsewhere. It is very material to consider that nothing was found in that part of the house which belonged to the defendants. Every thing was discovered in the father's apartments. They were not found, therefore, in the possession of the defendants, any more than if they had been discovered in any other house in the neighborhood. The two tenements, it is true, were under the same roof; but they were not on that account the same tenements. They were as distinct as any other houses. Now, how should it happen that the several parcels of money should all be found in the father's possession? He is not suspected, certainly there is no reason to suspect him, of having had any hand either in the commission of the robbery or the concealing of the goods. He swears he had no knowledge of any part of this money being in his house. It is not easy to imagine how it came there, unless it be supposed to have been put there by some one who did not know what part of the house belonged to the defendants and what part did not.

The witnesses on the part of the prosecution have testified that the defendants, when arrested, manifested great agitation and alarm; paleness overspread their faces, and drops of sweat stood on their temples. This satisfied the witnesses of the defendants' guilt, and they now state the circumstances as being indubitable proof. This argument manifests, in those who use it, an equal want of sense and sensibility. It is precisely fitted to the feeling and the intellect of a bum-bailiff. In a court of justice it deserves nothing but contempt. Is there nothing that can agitate the frame or excite the blood but the consciousness of guilt? If the defendants were innocent, would they not feel indignation at this unjust accusation? If they saw an attempt to produce false evidence against them, would they not be angry? And, seeing the production of such evidence, might they not feel fear and alarm? And have indignation, and anger, and terror, no power to affect the human countenance or the human frame?

Miserable, miserable, indeed, is the reasoning which would infer any man's guilt from his agitation when he found himself accused of a heinous offence; when he saw evidence which he might know to be false and fraudulent brought against him; when his house was filled, from the garret to the cellar, by those whom he might esteem as false witnesses; and when he himself, instead of being at liberty to observe their conduct and watch their motions, was a prisoner in close custody in his own house, with the fists of a catch-poll clenched upon his throat.

The defendants were at Newburyport the afternoon and evening of the robbery. For the greater part of the time they show where they were, and what they were doing. Their proof, it is true, does not apply to every moment. But when it is considered that, from the moment of their arrest, they have been in close prison, perhaps they have shown as much as could be expected. Few men, when called on afterwards, can remember, and fewer still can prove, how they have passed every half-hour of an evening. At a reasonable hour they both came to the house where Laban had lodged the night before. Nothing suspicious was observed in their manner or conversation. Is it probable they would thus come unconcernedly into the company of others, from a field of robbery, and, as they must have supposed, of murder, before they could have ascertained whether the stain of blood was not on their garments? They remained in the place a part of the next day. The town was alarmed; a strict inquiry was made of all strangers, and of the defendants among others. Nothing suspicious was discovered. They avoided no inquiry, nor did they leave the town in any haste. The jury has had an opportunity of seeing the defendants. Does their general appearance indicate that hardihood which would enable them to act this cool, unconcerned part? Is it not more likely they would have fled?

From the time of the robbery to the arrest, five or six weeks, the defendants were engaged in their usual occupations. They are not found to have passed a dollar of money to any body. They continued their ordinary habits of labor. No man saw money about them, nor any circumstance that might lead to a suspicion that they had money. Nothing occurred tending in any degree to excite suspicion against them. When arrested, and when all this array of evidence was brought against them, and when they could hope in nothing but their innocence, immunity was offered them again if they would confess. They were pressed, and urged, and allured, by every motive which could be set before them, to acknowledge their participation in the offence, and to bring out their accomplices. They steadily protested that they could confess nothing because they knew nothing. In defiance of all the discoveries made in their house, they have trusted to their innocence. On that, and on the candor and discernment of an enlightened jury, they still rely. If the jury are satisfied that there is the highest improbability that these persons could have had any previous knowledge of Goodridge, or been concerned in any previous concert to rob him; if their conduct that evening and the next day was marked by no circumstances of suspicion; if from that moment until their arrest nothing appeared against them; if they neither passed money, nor are found to have had money; if the manner of the search of their house, and the circumstances attending it, excite strong suspicions of unfair and fraudulent practices; if, in the hour of their utmost peril, no promises of safety could draw from the defendants any confession affecting themselves or others, it will be for the jury to say whether they can pronounce them guilty.