The judge asked if the prisoner had any other witnesses to call, or any thing more to say in his own defence; and on receiving a negative to both questions, looked disappointed. After a short pause, he commenced his charge to the jury, in the course of which he clearly and ably recapitulated the whole of the evidence.
This occupied between two and three hours, so that lights became at length necessary, though at his lordship's desk only, for the sake of referring to written notes, the imperfect remains of the daylight being sufficient for all other purposes.
The feelings of the court were now much excited; the solemn voice of the judge had for some time been the only sound heard, while the partial illumination at such a crisis had great effect, rendering more than ordinarily conspicuous the figure of his lordship; his costume so strongly associated in our minds with the idea of his being the arbitrator of life and death; his countenance, which happened to be peculiarly striking, and, in particular, the flash of his eye, which was very remarkable; his manner, too, was impressive, the tones of his voice fine, and his diction clear and forcible; his expositions on points of law, were luminous even to the humblest apprehensions. He told the jury, that on such points it was his business to dictate to them, and theirs to be implicitly guided by his dictum. To decide what facts were proved in evidence, and the degree of credibility due to such evidence, was, he told them, their province; and in deliberating on a case which had naturally excited so intense an interest in the neighbourhood, his lordship entreated that the jury would dismiss from their consideration all they might have previously heard, or even thought on the subject, and confine their whole attention to the evidence delivered in court this day.
Much, he remarked, had been often and eloquently said respecting the extreme fallibility of circumstantial evidence; but where all the circumstances agreed, such might, in his opinion, be even more conclusive than positive testimony: for, in the one case, we deduced the fact from known facts, and therefore knew it as it were of our own knowledge; while in the other case, we staked our belief on the veracity of a witness or witnesses, which, though generally believed to be credible, might by possibility be otherwise. In the present instance, he was sorry to say, that the painful duty of his office compelled him to point out to their attention, that the chain of circumstantial evidence seemed more than commonly strong and connected, while every link was supported by the testimony of a host of, at least credible, and in many instances more than credible, since they were unwilling witnesses: still, it was for them to decide whether all the circumstances did agree, and whether the evidence in support of each circumstance was undoubted; for, if they felt a doubt, it was their duty to give the prisoner the benefit of that doubt. It was unfortunately a case so ultimately connected with the most powerful and agitating feelings, that it was difficult in the extreme to confine the attention to the naked force of evidence. He again, therefore, entreated those on whom the ultimate responsibility of the verdict rested, to lay aside their feelings, and use only their judgments.
His own feelings were, he confessed, powerfully interested by the defence of the prisoner; yet, he felt it there again his painful duty, to point out that there was neither circumstance nor fact, brought forward in the whole of that defence, based on any evidence whatever; that all rested on the unsupported assertions of the accused party. That the plea attempted to be set up, of Sir Willoughby's insanity, was not only unsustained by evidence, but that the very contrary had been proved, on the testimony of those most intimately acquainted and closely connected with the deceased. While there was at least negative proof, that even the prisoner had never expressed such an opinion, till after it became necessary to meet the accusation against himself. And lastly, that the prosperous and peculiarly happy circumstances, in which the late Sir Willoughby Arden was placed at the time of his sudden demise, made it wholly incredible, that, being in possession of his reason, he should of his own will, have taken the poison. It had been proved in evidence, that Sir Willoughby had been in perfect health, at and for some time after dinner—that he had supped in company with the prisoner only—that the remains of arsenic had been found in one of the glasses—that Sir Willoughby had died immediately after supper—that his death had been occasioned by arsenic—that the prisoner had attempted to rinse the glass in which the remains of arsenic were afterwards found—that a packet containing arsenic had lain on a certain morning, in a certain apartment—that the prisoner had been seen to come from that apartment alone, in the afternoon; that it was not an apartment usually inhabited or visited by the prisoner—that there was evidence the prisoner was aware the packet of arsenic lay there—that the said packet was missed the next morning, from the said apartment—that the said packet was subsequently found in a locked escritoire of the prisoner's, to which he alone had access—that a torn piece of paper, visibly a portion of the outer cover of the said packet of arsenic, had been seen, by a witness whose respectability and credibility were beyond a doubt, fall from within the breast of the waistcoat of the prisoner—that the prisoner had resisted the opening of the body—that Dr. Harman's opinion the deceased had died by the effects of poison, would not have amounted to evidence, had the body not been opened—and finally that the defence rested entirely on the unsubstantiated assertions of the prisoner himself. As probable motives could not become subjects of proof, though much had been said of them on the trial, he would say nothing of them here: they were all calculated to awaken feelings for, or against the prisoner; and once more, he entreated the jury to dismiss every thing but evidence from their minds, and give their verdict accordingly. He then told them distinctly what verdict it was their duty to their country to give, if they considered these facts proved, and what verdict was due to humanity, and the prisoner, if they still felt a doubt.
From the circumstance we have already mentioned, of candles being placed on the desk of the judge only, the twilight-like sort of obscurity which, by the time his lordship approached the conclusion of his charge, had stolen over the rest of the court-house, added much to the solemn effect of this most anxious part of the proceedings. The forms of the jurymen, but dimly discerned, leaning over with painful eagerness, to catch, as it were, the very thoughts of the judge; their eyes glancing in the distant light, as they removed them, from time to time, from his countenance, to look round on each other; and when he ceased speaking, the pause that followed—and then—the verdict, which issuing as it now did, from the gloom in which the whole group was wrapped, sounded more awfully, more like the condensed, irrecoverable decision of the judicial twelve, than when, in the broad light of day, the foreman, though in his official capacity in fact the voice of all, still looks the individual.
The single word pronounced was—Guilty!!!
As though the whole assembly had hitherto held their breath, a sort of universal gasp was distinctly heard; and during the moment, the judge was preparing to pronounce the awful sentence of the law, a movement was observable in the part of the gallery where Lady Arden, though not visible, was known to be.