ADDRESS TO THE JURY IN THE DAVIS WILL CASE.
* The matchless eloquence of Ingersoll! Where will one look
for the like of it? What other man living has the faculty of
blending wit and humor, pathos and fact and logic with such
exquisite grace, or with such impressive force? Senator
Sanders this morning begged the jury to beware of the
oratory of Ingersoll as it transcended that of Greece.
Sanders was not far amiss. In fierce and terrible invective
Ingersoll is not to be compared to Demosthenes. But in no
other respect is Demosthenes his superior. To a modern
audience, at least, Demosthenes on the Crown would seem a
pretty poor sort of affair by the side of Ingersoll on the
Davis will. It was a great effort, and its chief greatness
lay in its extreme simplicity.
Ingersoll stepped up to the jurors as near as he could get
and kept slowly walking up and down before them. At times he
would single out a single juryman, stop in front of him,
gaze steadily into his face and direct his remarks for a
minute or two to that one man alone. Again he would turn and
address himself to Senator Sanders, Judge Dixon or somebody
else of those interested in establishing the will as
genuine, At times the gravity of the jury and the audience
was so completely upset that Judge McHatton had to rap for
order, but presently the Colonel would change his mood and
the audience would be hushed into deepest silence. If the
jury could have retired immediately upon the conclusion of
Ingersoll's argument, there is little doubt as to what the
verdict would have been.
If Ingersoll himself is not absolutely convinced that the
will is a forgery, he certainly had the art of making people
believe that he was so convinced. He said he hoped he might
never win a case that he ought not to win as a matter of
right and justice. The idea which he sought to convey and
which he did convey was that he believed he was right, no
matter whether he could make others believe as he did or
not. In that lies Ingersoll's power.
Whether by accident or design the will got torn this
morning. A piece in the form of a triangle was torn from one
end. Ingersoll made quite a point this afternoon by passing
the pieces around among the jury, and asking each man of
them to note that the ink at the torn edges had not sunk
into, the paper. In doing this he adopted a conversational
tone and kept pressing the point until the juror he was
working upon nodded his head in approval.
Both Judge Dixon and Senator Sanders interrupted Ingersoll
early in his speech to take exception to certain of his
remarks, but the Colonel's dangerous repartee and delicate
art in twisting anything they might say to his own advantage
soon put a stop to the interruptions and the speaker had
full sway during the rest of the time at his disposal. The
crowd—it was as big as circumstances would permit, every
available inch of space in the room and in the court house
corridors being occupied—enjoyed Ingersoll' a speech
immensely, and only respect for the proprieties of the place
prevented frequent bursts of applause as an accompaniment to
the frequent bursts of eloquence.—Anaconda Standard, Butte,
Montana, Sept. 5,1891.
MAY it please the Court and gentlemen of the jury, waiving congratulations, reminiscences and animadversions, I will proceed to the business in hand. There are two principal and important questions to be decided by you: First, is the will sought to be probated, the will of Andrew J. Davis? Is it genuine? Is it honest?
And second, did Andrew J. Davis make a will after 1866 revoking all former wills, or were the provisions such that they were inconsistent with the provisions of the will of 1866?
These are the questions, and as we examine them, other questions arise that have to be answered. The first question then is: Who wrote the will of 1866? Whose work is it? When, where and by whom was it done? And I don't want you, gentlemen, to pay any attention to what I say unless it appeals to your reason and to your good sense. Don't be afraid of me because I am a sinner.* I admit that I am. I am not like the other gentleman who thanked God "that he was not as other men."
* Col. Ingersoll when speaking of himself as a sinner in
this address is referring to the remarks made by Senator
Sanders, who in the preceding address said:
"In an old book occur the words, 'My son if sinners entice
thee consent thou not.' I will not apply this to you,
gentlemen of the jury. But I have a right to demand of you
that you hold your minds and hearts free from all influences
calculated to swerve you until you have heard the last words
in this case." The Senator enjoined them not to be beguiled
by the eloquence of a man who was famed for his eloquence
over two continents and in the islands of the sea; a man
whose eloquence fittingly transcended that of Greece in the
time of Alexander.
I have the faults and frailties common to the human race, but in spite of being a sinner I strive to be at least a good-natured one, and I am such a sinner that if there is any good in any other world I am willing to share it with all the children of men. To that extent at least I am a sinner; and I hope, gentlemen, that you will not be prejudiced against me on that account, or decide for the proponent simply upon the perfections of Senator Sanders. Now, I say, the question is: Who wrote this will? The testimony offered by the proponent is that it was written by Job Davis. We have heard a great deal, gentlemen, of the difference between fact and opinion. There is a difference between fact and opinion, but sometimes when we have to establish a fact by persons, we are hardly as certain that the fact ever existed as we are of the opinion, and although one swears that he saw a thing or heard a thing we all know that the accuracy of that statement must be decided by something besides his word.
There is this beautiful peculiarity in nature—a lie never fits a fact, never. You only fit a lie with another lie, made for the express purpose, because you can change a lie but you can't change a fact, and after a while the time comes when the last lie you tell has to be fitted to a fact, and right there is a bad joint; consequently you must test the statements of people who say they saw, not by what they say but by other facts, by the surroundings, by what are called probabilities; by the naturalness of the statement. If we only had to hear what witnesses say, jurymen would need nothing but ears. Their brains could be dispensed with; but after you hear what they say you call a council in your brain and make up your mind whether the statement, in view of all the circumstances, is true or false.
Did Job Davis write the will? I would be willing to risk this entire case on that one proposition. Did Job Davis write this will? And I propose to demonstrate to you by the evidence on both sides that Job Davis did not write that will. Why do I say so?