A young man named Wharton was called; an assistant to a chemist, and a friend of the late Martin Scott. He deposed to hearing Scott speak in the spring--he thought it was towards the end of April--of Mr. Andinnian's threat to shoot him. The witness added that he was sure Martin Scott took the threat as a serious one and knew that Mr. Andinnian meant it as such; though it was possible that with the lapse of weeks the impression might have worn away in Scott's mind. He was the last witness called on either side; and the two leading counsel then addressed the jury.
The judge summed up carefully and dispassionately, but not favourably. As many said afterwards, he was "dead against the prisoner." The jury remained in deliberation fifteen minutes only, and then came back with their verdict.
Wilful murder: but with a very strong recommendation to mercy.
The judge then asked The prisoner if he had anything to urge against the sentence of Death that was about to be passed upon him.
Nothing but this, the prisoner replied, speaking courteously and quietly. That he believed he had done only his duty: and that Martin Scott had deliberately and defiantly rushed upon his own fate; and that if young, innocent, and refined ladies were to be insulted by reprobate men with impunity, the sooner the country went back to a state of barbarism the better. To this the judge replied, that if for trifling causes men might with impunity murder others in cold blood, the country would already be in a state of barbarism, without going back to it.
But the trial was not to conclude without one startling element of sensation. The judge had put the black cap on his head, when a tall, proud-looking, handsome lady stepped forward and demanded to say a word in stay of the sentence. It was Mrs. Andinnian. Waving the ushers away who would have removed her, she was, perhaps in very astonishment, allowed to speak.
Her son had inherited an uncontrollable temper, she said; her temper. If anything occurred greatly to exasperate him (but this was very rare) his transitory passion was akin to madness: In fact it was madness for the short time it lasted, which was never more than for a few moments. To punish him by death for any act committed by him during this irresponsible time would be, she urged, murder. Murder upon him.
Only these few words did she speak. Not passionately; calmly and respectfully; and with her dark eyes fixed--on the judge. She then bowed to the judge and retired. The judge inclined his head gravely to her in return, and proceeded with his sentence.
Death. But the strong recommendation of the jury should be forwarded to the proper quarter.
The judge, as was learnt later, seconded this recommendation warmly: in fact, the words he used in passing sentence as good as conveyed an intimation that there might be no execution.