ARGUMENT OF MR. WEBSTER

IN THE GOODRIDGE CASE

THIS argument was addressed to a jury in April, 1817, on the occasion of the trial of Levi and Laban Kenniston, in the Supreme Judicial Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, held at Ipswich, in the county of Essex, for an alleged assault and robbery by Levi and Laban, on the person of Major Elijah Putnam Goodridge, of Bangor, Maine.

It was true (Mr. Webster said) that the offence charged was not capital; but perhaps this could 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 were innocent, it was more natural for them to be thinking upon what they had lost, by that alteration of the law which had left highway robbery no longer capital, than upon what the guilty might gain by it. They had 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's 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

call, or else take the jury as they find it. They have lost the benefit of the 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 was added that they were strangers, in a great degree without friends, and without the means for preparing their defence, it was evident they must take their trial under great disadvantages.

Mr. Webster then called the attention of the jury to those circumstances which he thought could not but cast doubts on the story of the prosecutor.

In the first place, it was impossible to believe a robbery of this sort to 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 was 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 correctness of the general 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 great cities. From the commission of their crimes they hasten into the crowd, and hide themselves in the populousness of

ARGUMENT OF MR. WEBSTER

IN THE GOODRIDGE CASE

THIS argument was addressed to a jury in April, 1817, on the occasion of the trial of Levi and Laban Kenniston, in the Supreme Judicial Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, held at Ipswich, in the county of Essex, for an alleged assault and robbery by Levi and Laban, on the person of Major Elijah Putnam Goodridge, of Bangor, Maine.

It was true (Mr. Webster said) that the offence charged was not capital; but perhaps this could 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 were innocent, it was more natural for them to be thinking upon what they had lost, by that alteration of the law which had left highway robbery no longer capital, than upon what the guilty might gain by it. They had 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's 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

call, or else take the jury as they find it. They have lost the benefit of the 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 was added that they were strangers, in a great degree without friends, and without the means for preparing their defence, it was evident they must take their trial under great disadvantages.

Mr. Webster then called the attention of the jury to those circumstances which he thought could not but cast doubts on the story of the prosecutor.

In the first place, it was impossible to believe a robbery of this sort to 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 was 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 correctness of the general 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 great cities. From the commission of their crimes they hasten. into the crowd, and hide themselves in the populousness of

White were the suspicious persons seen in and about Brown Street on that night.

That you cannot doubt, that Richard Crowninshield was the perpetrator of that crime.

That you cannot doubt, that the prisoner at the bar was in Brown Street on that night.

If there, then it must be by agreement-to countenance, to aid the perpetrator. And if so, then he is guilty as PRINCIPAL.

Gentlemen, your whole concern should be to do your duty, and leave consequences to take care of themselves. You will receive the law from the court. Your verdict, it is true, may endanger the prisoner's life; but then it is to save other lives. If the prisoner's guilt has been shown and proved beyond all reasonable doubt, you will convict him. If such reasonable doubts of guilt still remain, you will acquit him. You are the judges of the whole case. You owe a duty to the public, as well as to the prisoner at the bar. You cannot presume to be wiser than the law. Your duty is a plain, straight-forward one. Doubtless, we would all judge him in mercy. Toward him, as an individual, the law inculcates no hostility; but toward him, if proved to be a murderer, the law, and the oaths you have taken, and public justice, demand that you do your duty.

With consciences satisfied with the discharge of duty, no consequences can harm you. There is no evil that we cannot either face or fly from, but the consciousness of duty disregarded.

A sense of duty pursues us ever. It is omnipresent, like the Deity. If we take to ourselves the wings of the morning and dwell in the utmost parts of the seas, duty performed, or duty violated, is still with us, for our happiness, or our misery. If we say the darkness shall