The ways of the hour

by James Fenimore Cooper

“I think not; though I have taken so little heed of these rumours as to be uncertain when I first heard this circumstance. I do remember, however, that I was under the impression the remains were, beyond a doubt, those of Peter Goodwin and his wife, when I commenced the examination of them; and I very distinctly recollect the surprise I felt when the conviction crossed my mind that both were the skeletons of women. From the nature of this feeling, I rather think I could not have heard anything of the German female at that time.”

The cross-examination of Dr. McBrain was very long and searching; but it did not materially affect the substance of his testimony. On the contrary, it rather strengthened it; since he had it in his power to explain himself more fully under the interrogatories of Williams, than he could do in an examination in chief. Still, he could go no farther than give his strong belief; declining to pronounce positively on the sex of either individual, in the state in which the remains were found.

Although nothing positive was obtained from this testimony, the minds of the jurors were pointedly directed to the circumstance of the sudden and unexplained disappearance of the German woman; thus making an opening for the admission of a serious doubt connected with the fate of that person.

It was a sad thing to reflect that, beyond this testimony of McBrain, there was little other direct evidence to offer in behalf of the accused. It is true, the insufficiency of that which had been produced by the prosecution might avail her much; and on this Dunscomb saw that his hopes of an acquittal must depend; but he could not refrain from regretting, and that bitterly, that the unmoved resolution of his client not to let her past life be known, must so much weaken his case, were she innocent, and so much fortify that of the prosecution, under the contrary supposition. Another physician or two were examined to sustain McBrain; but, after all, the condition of the remains was such as to render any testimony questionable. One witness went so far as to say, it is true, that he thought he could distinguish certain unerring signs of the sex in the length of the lower limbs, and in other similar proof; but even McBrain was forced to admit that such distinctions were very vague and unsatisfactory. His own opinion was formed more from the size of the bones, generally, than from any other proof. In general, there was little difficulty in speaking of the sex of the subject, when the skeleton was entire and well preserved, and particularly when the teeth furnished some clue to the age; but, in this particular case, as has already been stated, there could be no such thing as absolute certainty.

It was with a heavy heart, and with many an anxious glance cast towards the door, in the hope of seeing Michael Millington enter, that Dunscomb admitted the prisoner had no further testimony to offer. He had spun out the little he did possess, in order to give it an appearance of importance which it did not actually bring with it, and to divert the minds of the jurors from the impression they had probably obtained, of the remains necessarily being those of Goodwin and his wife.

The summing up on both sides was a grave and solemn scene. Here Williams was thrown out, the District Attorney choosing to perform his own duty on an occasion so serious. Dunscomb made a noble appeal to the justice of the court and jury; admonishing both of the danger of yielding too easily to circumstantial evidence. It was the best possible proof, he admitted, when the circumstances were sufficiently clear and sufficiently shown to be themselves beyond controversy. That Mary Monson dwelt with the Goodwins, was in the house at the time of the arson and murder, if such crimes were ever committed at all; that she escaped and all her property was saved, would of themselves amount to nothing. The testimony, indeed, on several of these heads, rather told in her favour than the reverse. The witnesses for the prosecution proved that she was in her room, beneath the roof, when the flames broke out, and was saved with difficulty. This was a most material fact, and Dunscomb turned it to good account. Would an incendiary be apt to place herself in a situation in which her own life was in danger; and this, too, under circumstances that rendered no such measure necessary? Then, all the facts connected with Mary Monson’s residence and habits told in her favour. Why should she remain so long at the cottage, if robbery was her only purpose? The idea of her belonging to a gang that had sent her to make discoveries and to execute its plans, was preposterous; for what hindered any of the men of that gang from committing the crimes in the most direct manner, and with the least loss of time? No; if Mary Monson were guilty, she was undoubtedly guilty on her own account; and had been acting with the uncertain aim and hand of a woman. The jury must discard all notions of accomplices, and consider the testimony solely in connection with the acts of the accused. Accomplices, and those of the nature supposed, would have greatly simplified the whole of the wretched transaction. They would have rendered both the murders and arson unnecessary. The bold and strong do not commit these crimes, except in those cases in which resistance renders them necessary. Here was clearly no resistance, as was shown by the quiet positions in which the skeletons had been found. If a murder was directly committed, it must have been by the blow on the heads; and the jury was asked to consider whether a delicate female like Mary Monson had even the physical force necessary to strike such a blow. With what instrument was it done? Nothing of the sort was found near the bodies; and no proof of any such blow was before the jury. One witness had said that the iron-work of a plough lay quite near the remains; and it had been shown that Peter Goodwin kept such articles in a loft over his bed-room. He would suggest the possibility of the fire’s having commenced in that loft, through which the pipe of a cooking-stove led; of its having consumed the beams of the floor; letting down this plough and share upon the heads of the sleeping couple below,[below,] stunning, if not killing them; thus leaving them unresisting subjects to the action of the element. McBrain had been examined on this point, which we omitted to state in its place, to prevent repetition. He, and the two other doctors brought forward for the defence, had tried to place the ploughshare on the skulls; and were of opinion that the injuries might have been inflicted by that piece of iron. But Mary Monson could not use such an instrument. This was beyond all dispute. If the ploughshare inflicted the blow—and the testimony on this point was at least entitled to respect—then was Mary Monson innocent of any murder committed by direct means. It is true, she was responsible for all her acts; and if she set fire to the building, she was probably guilty of murder as well as of arson. But would she have done this, and made no provision for her own escape? The evidence was clear that she was rescued by means of a ladder, and through a window; and that there were no other means of escape.[escape.]

Dunscomb reasoned on these several points with great force and ingenuity. So clear were his statements, so logical his inferences, and so candid his mode of arguing, that he had produced a great effect ere he closed this branch of his subject. It is true, that one far more difficult remained to be met; to answer which he now set about with fear and trembling.

We allude to the piece of money alleged to have been found in Mary Monson’s purse. Dunscomb had very little difficulty in disposing of the flippant widow Pope; but the Burton family gave him more trouble. Nevertheless, it was his duty to endeavour to get rid of them, or at least so far to weaken their testimony as to give his client the benefit of the doubt. There was, in truth, but one mode of doing this. It was to impress on the jury the probability that the coin had been changed in passing from hand to hand. It is true, it was not easy to suggest any plausible reason why such an act of treachery should have been committed; but it was a good legal point to show that this piece of money had not, at all times, been absolutely under the eye or within the control of the coroner. If there were a possibility of a change, the fact should and ought to tell in favour of his client. Mrs. Burton had made admissions on this point which entitled the prisoner to press the facts on the minds of the jurors; and her counsel did not fail so to do, with clearness and energy. After all, this was much the most difficult point of the case; and it would not admit of a perfectly satisfactory solution.

The conclusion of Dunscomb’s summing up was manly, touching, even eloquent. He spoke of a lone and defenceless female, surrounded by strangers, being dragged to the bar on charges of such gravity; pointed to his client where she sat enthralled by his language, with all the signs of polished refinement on her dress, person, and manners; delicate, feminine, and beautiful; and asked if any one, who had the soul and feelings of a man, could believe that such a being had committed the crimes imputed to Mary Monson.

The appeal was powerful, and was dwelt on just long enough to give it full and fair effect. It left the bench, the bar, the jury-box, the whole audience in fact, in tears. The prisoner alone kept an unmoistened eye; but it was in a face flushed with feeling. Her self-command was almost supernatural.