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In criminal prosecutions the district attorney is usually regarded by the jury much in the light of a judicial officer and, as such, unprejudiced and impartial. Any slur or suggestion adverse to a prisoner's witness coming from this source, therefore, has an added power for evil, and is calculated to do injustice to the defendant. There have been many flagrant abuses of this character in the criminal courts of our own city. "Is it not a fact that you were not there at all?" "Has all this been written out for you?" "Is it not a fact that you and your husband have concocted this whole story?" "You have been a witness for your husband in every lawsuit he has had, have you not?"—were all questions that were recently criticised by the court, on appeal, as "innuendo," and calculated to prejudice the defendant—by the Michigan Supreme Court in the People vs. Cahoon—and held sufficient, in connection with other similar errors, to set the conviction aside.

Assuming that the material with which you propose to assail the credibility of a witness fully justifies the attack, the question then arises, How to use this material to the best advantage? The sympathies of juries are keen toward those obliged to confess their crimes on the witness-stand. The same matters may be handled to the advantage or positive disadvantage of the cross-examiner. If you hold in your possession the evidence of the witness's conviction, for example, but allow him to understand that you know his history, he will surely get the better of you. Conceal it from him, and he will likely try to conceal it from you, or lie about it if necessary. "I don't suppose you have ever been in trouble, have you?" will bring a quick reply, "What trouble?"—"Oh, I can't refer to any particular trouble. I mean generally, have you ever been in jail?" The witness will believe you know nothing about him and deny it, or if he has been many times convicted, will admit some small offence and attempt to conceal everything but what he suspects you know already about him. This very attempt to deceive, if exposed, will destroy him with the jury far more effectually than the knowledge of the offences he has committed. On the other hand, suppose you taunt him with his crime in the first instance; ten to one he will admit his wrong-doing in such a way as to arouse toward himself the sympathy of the jury and their resentment toward the lawyer who was unchristian enough to uncover to public view offences long since forgotten.

Chief Baron Pollock once presided at a case where a witness was asked about a conviction years gone by, though his (the witness's) honesty was not doubted. The baron burst into tears at the answer of the witness.

In the Bellevue Hospital case (the details of which are fully described in a subsequent chapter), and during the cross-examination of the witness Chambers, who was confined in the Pavilion for the Insane at the time, the writer was imprudent enough to ask the witness to explain to the jury how he came to be confined on Ward's Island, only to receive the pathetic reply: "I was sent there because I was insane. You see my wife was very ill with locomotor ataxia. She had been ill a year; I was her only nurse. I tended her day and night. We loved each other dearly. I was greatly worried over her long illness and frightful suffering. The result was, I worried too deeply; she had been very good to me. I overstrained myself, my mind gave way; but I am better now, thank you."

CHAPTER IX
GOLDEN RULES FOR THE EXAMINATION OF WITNESSES

David Paul Brown, a member of the Philadelphia Bar, has condensed his experiences into eighteen paragraphs which he has entitled, "Golden Rules for the Examination of Witnesses."

Although I am of the opinion that it is impossible to embody in any set of rules the art of examination of witnesses, yet the Golden Rules of Brown contain so many useful and valuable suggestions concerning the art, that it is well to reprint them here for the benefit of the student.

Golden Rules for the Examination of Witnesses

First, as to your own witnesses.

I. If they are bold, and may injure your cause by pertness or forwardness, observe a gravity and ceremony of manner toward them which may be calculated to repress their assurance.

II. If they are alarmed or diffident, and their thoughts are evidently scattered, commence your examination with matters of a familiar character, remotely connected with the subject of their alarm, or the matter in issue; as, for instance,—Where do you live? Do you know the parties? How long have you known them? etc. And when you have restored them to their composure, and the mind has regained its equilibrium, proceed to the more essential features of the case, being careful to be mild and distinct in your approaches, lest you may again trouble the fountain from which you are to drink.

III. If the evidence of your own witnesses be unfavorable to you (which should always be carefully guarded against), exhibit no want of composure; for there are many minds that form opinions of the nature or character of testimony chiefly from the effect which it may appear to produce upon the counsel.

IV. If you perceive that the mind of the witness is imbued with prejudices against your client, hope but little from such a quarter—unless there be some facts which are essential to your client's protection, and which that witness alone can prove, either do not call him, or get rid of him as soon as possible. If the opposite counsel perceive the bias to which I have referred, he may employ it to your ruin. In judicial inquiries, of all possible evils, the worst and the least to be resisted is an enemy in the disguise of a friend. You cannot impeach him; you cannot cross-examine him; you cannot disarm him; you cannot indirectly, even, assail him; and if you exercise the only privilege that is left to you, and call other witnesses for the purposes of explanation, you must bear in mind that, instead of carrying the war into the enemy's country, the struggle is still between sections of your own forces, and in the very heart, perhaps, of your own camp. Avoid this, by all means.

V. Never call a witness whom your adversary will be compelled to call. This will afford you the privilege of cross-examination,—take from your opponent the same privilege it thus gives to you,—and, in addition thereto, not only render everything unfavorable said by the witness doubly operative against the party calling him, but also deprive that party of the power of counteracting the effect of the testimony.

VI. Never ask a question without an object, nor without being able to connect that object with the case, if objected to as irrelevant.

VII. Be careful not to put your question in such a shape that, if opposed for informality, you cannot sustain it, or, at all events, produce strong reason in its support. Frequent failures in the discussions of points of evidence enfeeble your strength in the estimation of the jury, and greatly impair your hopes in the final result.

VIII. Never object to a question from your adversary without being able and disposed to enforce the objection. Nothing is so monstrous as to be constantly making and withdrawing objections; it either indicates a want of correct perception in making them, or a deficiency of real or of moral courage in not making them good.

IX. Speak to your witness clearly and distinctly, as if you were awake and engaged in a matter of interest, and make him also speak distinctly and to your question. How can it be supposed that the court and jury will be inclined to listen, when the only struggle seems to be whether the counsel or the witness shall first go to sleep?

X. Modulate your voice as circumstances may direct, "Inspire the fearful and repress the bold."

XI. Never begin before you are ready, and always finish when you have done. In other words, do not question for question's sake, but for an answer.

Cross-examination

I. Except in indifferent matters, never take your eye from that of the witness; this is a channel of communication from mind to mind, the loss of which nothing can compensate.

 
"Truth, falsehood, hatred, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions—all the soul—is there."
 

II. Be not regardless, either, of the voice of the witness; next to the eye this is perhaps the best interpreter of his mind. The very design to screen conscience from crime—the mental reservation of the witness—is often manifested in the tone or accent or emphasis of the voice. For instance, it becoming important to know that the witness was at the corner of Sixth and Chestnut streets at a certain time, the question is asked, Were you at the corner of Sixth and Chestnut streets at six o'clock? A frank witness would answer, perhaps I was near there. But a witness who had been there, desirous to conceal the fact, and to defeat your object, speaking to the letter rather than the spirit of the inquiry, answers, No; although he may have been within a stone's throw of the place, or at the very place, within ten minutes of the time. The common answer of such a witness would be, I was not at the corner at six o'clock.

Emphasis upon both words plainly implies a mental evasion or equivocation, and gives rise with a skilful examiner to the question, At what hour were you at the corner, or at what place were you at six o'clock? And in nine instances out of ten it will appear, that the witness was at the place about the time, or at the time about the place. There is no scope for further illustrations; but be watchful, I say, of the voice, and the principle may be easily applied.

III. Be mild with the mild; shrewd with the crafty; confiding with the honest; merciful to the young, the frail, or the fearful; rough to the ruffian, and a thunderbolt to the liar. But in all this, never be unmindful of your own dignity. Bring to bear all the powers of your mind, not that you may shine, but that virtue may triumph, and your cause may prosper.

IV. In a criminal, especially in a capital case, so long as your cause stands well, ask but few questions; and be certain never to ask any the answer to which, if against you, may destroy your client, unless you know the witness perfectly well, and know that his answer will be favorable equally well; or unless you be prepared with testimony to destroy him, if he play traitor to the truth and your expectations.

V. An equivocal question is almost as much to be avoided and condemned as an equivocal answer; and it always leads to, or excuses, an equivocal answer. Singleness of purpose, clearly expressed, is the best trait in the examination of witnesses, whether they be honest or the reverse. Falsehood is not detected by cunning, but by the light of truth, or if by cunning, it is the cunning of the witness, and not of the counsel.

VI. If the witness determine to be witty or refractory with you, you had better settle that account with him at first, or its items will increase with the examination. Let him have an opportunity of satisfying himself either that he has mistaken your power, or his own. But in any result, be careful that you do not lose your temper; anger is always either the precursor or evidence of assured defeat in every intellectual conflict.

VII. Like a skilful chess-player, in every move, fix your mind upon the combinations and relations of the game—partial and temporary success may otherwise end in total and remediless defeat.

VIII. Never undervalue your adversary, but stand steadily upon your guard; a random blow may be just as fatal as though it were directed by the most consummate skill; the negligence of one often cures, and sometimes renders effective, the blunders of another.

IX. Be respectful to the court and to the jury; kind to your colleague; civil to your antagonist; but never sacrifice the slightest principle of duty to an overweening deference toward either.

In "The Advocate, his Training, Practice, Rights, and Duties," written by Cox, and published in England about a half century ago, there is an excellent chapter on cross-examination, to which the writer is indebted for many suggestions. Cox closes his chapter with this final admonition to the students, to whom his book is evidently addressed:—

"In concluding these remarks on cross-examination, the rarest, the most useful, and the most difficult to be acquired of the accomplishments of the advocate, we would again urge upon your attention the importance of calm discretion. In addressing a jury you may sometimes talk without having anything to say, and no harm will come of it. But in cross-examination every question that does not advance your cause injures it. If you have not a definite object to attain, dismiss the witness without a word. There are no harmless questions here; the most apparently unimportant may bring destruction or victory. If the summit of the orator's art has been rightly defined to consist in knowing when to sit down, that of an advocate may be described as knowing when to keep his seat. Very little experience in our courts will teach you this lesson, for every day will show to your observant eye instances of self-destruction brought about by imprudent cross-examination. Fear not that your discreet reserve may be mistaken for carelessness or want of self-reliance. The true motive will soon be seen and approved. Your critics are lawyers, who know well the value of discretion in an advocate; and how indiscretion in cross-examination cannot be compensated by any amount of ability in other duties. The attorneys are sure to discover the prudence that governs your tongue. Even if the wisdom of your abstinence be not apparent at the moment, it will be recognized in the result. Your fame may be of slower growth than that of the talker, but it will be larger and more enduring."

CHAPTER X
SOME FAMOUS CROSS-EXAMINERS AND THEIR METHODS

One of the best ways to acquire the art of cross-examination is to study the methods of the great cross-examiners who serve as models for the legal profession.

Indeed, nearly every great cross-examiner attributes his success to the fact of having had the opportunity to study the art of some great advocate in actual practice.

In view of the fact also that a keen interest is always taken in the personality and life sketches of great cross-examiners, it has seemed fitting to introduce some brief sketches of great cross-examiners, and to give some illustrations of their methods.

Sir Charles Russell, Lord Russell of Killowen, who died in February, 1901, while he was Lord Chief Justice of England, was altogether the most successful cross-examiner of modern times. Lord Coleridge said of him while he was still practising at the bar, and on one side or the other in nearly every important case tried, "Russell is the biggest advocate of the century."

It has been said that his success in cross-examination, like his success in everything, was due to his force of character. It was his striking personality, added to his skill and adroitness, which seemed to give him his overwhelming influence over the witnesses whom he cross-examined. Russell is said to have had a wonderful faculty for using the brain and knowledge of other men. Others might possess a knowledge of the subject far in excess of Russell, but he had the reputation of being able to make that knowledge valuable and use it in his examination of a witness in a way altogether unexpected and unique.

Unlike Rufus Choate, "The Ruler of the Twelve," and by far the greatest advocate of the century on this side of the water, Russell read but little. He belonged to the category of famous men who "neither found nor pretended to find any real solace in books." With Choate, his library of some eight thousand volumes was his home, and "his authors were the loves of his life." Choate used to read at his meals and while walking in the streets, for books were his only pastime. Neither was Russell a great orator, while Choate was ranked as "the first orator of his time in any quarter of the globe where the English language was spoken, or who was ever seen standing before a jury panel."

Both Russell and Choate were consummate actors; they were both men of genius in their advocacy. Each knew the precise points upon which to seize; each watched every turn of the jury, knew at a glance what was telling with them, knew how to use to the best advantage every accident that might arise in the progress of the case.

"One day a junior was taking a note in the orthodox fashion. Russell was taking no note, but he was thoroughly on the alert, glancing about the court, sometimes at the judge, sometimes at the jury, sometimes at the witness or the counsel on the other side. Suddenly he turned to the junior and said, 'What are you doing?' 'Taking a note,' was the answer. 'What the devil do you mean by saying you are taking a note? Why don't you watch the case?' he burst out. He had been 'watching' the case. Something had happened to make a change of front necessary, and he wheeled his colleagues around almost before they had time to grasp the new situation."¹⁶

Russell's maxim for cross-examination was, "Go straight at the witness and at the point; throw your cards on the table, mere finesse English juries do not appreciate."

Speaking of Russell's success as a cross-examiner, his biographer, Barry O'Brien says: "It was a fine sight to see him rise to cross-examine. His very appearance must have been a shock to the witness,—the manly, defiant bearing, the noble brow, the haughty look, the remorseless mouth, those deep-set eyes, widely opened, and that searching glance which pierced the very soul. 'Russell,' said a member of the Northern Circuit, 'produced the same effect on a witness that a cobra produces on a rabbit.' In a certain case he appeared on the wrong side. Thirty-two witnesses were called, thirty-one on the wrong side, and one on the right side. Not one of the thirty-one was broken down in cross-examination; but the one on the right side was utterly annihilated by Russell.

"'How is Russell getting on?' a friend asked one of the judges of the Parnell Commission during the days of Pigott's cross-examination. 'Master Charlie is bowling very straight,' was the answer. 'Master Charlie' always bowled 'very straight,' and the man at the wicket generally came quickly to grief. I have myself seen him approach a witness with great gentleness—the gentleness of a lion reconnoitring his prey. I have also seen him fly at a witness with the fierceness of a tiger. But, gentle or fierce, he must have always looked a very ugly object to the man who had gone into the box to lie."

Rufus Choate had little of Russell's natural force with which to command his witnesses; his effort was to magnetize, he was called "the wizard of the court room." He employed an entirely different method in his cross-examinations. He never assaulted a witness as if determined to browbeat him. "Commenting once on the cross-examination of a certain eminent counsellor at the Boston Bar with decided disapprobation, Choate said, 'This man goes at a witness in such a way that he inevitably gets the jury all on the side of the witness. I do not,' he added, 'think that is a good plan.' His own plan was far more wary, intelligent, and circumspect. He had a profound knowledge of human nature, of the springs of human action, of the thoughts of human hearts. To get at these and make them patent to the jury, he would ask only a few telling questions—a very few questions, but generally every one of them was fired point-blank, and hit the mark. His motto was: 'Never cross-examine any more than is absolutely necessary. If you don't break your witness, he breaks you.' He treated every man who appeared like a fair and honest person on the stand, as if upon the presumption that he was a gentleman; and if a man appeared badly, he demolished him, but with the air of a surgeon performing a disagreeable amputation—as if he was profoundly sorry for the necessity. Few men, good or bad, ever cherished any resentment against Choate for his cross-examination of them. His whole style of address to the occupants of the witness-stand was soothing, kind, and reassuring. When he came down heavily to crush a witness, it was with a calm, resolute decision, but no asperity—nothing curt, nothing tart."¹⁷

Choate's idea of the proper length of an address to a jury was that "a speaker makes his impression, if he ever makes it, in the first hour, sometimes in the first fifteen minutes; for if he has a proper and firm grasp of his case, he then puts forth the outline of his grounds of argument. He plays the overture, which hints at or announces all the airs of the coming opera. All the rest is mere filling up: answering objections, giving one juryman little arguments with which to answer the objections of his fellows, etc. Indeed, this may be taken as a fixed rule, that the popular mind can never be vigorously addressed, deeply moved, and stirred and fixed more than one hour in any single address."

What Choate was to America, and Erskine, and later Russell, to England, John Philpot Curran was to Ireland. He ranked as a jury lawyer next to Erskine. The son of a peasant, he became Master of Rolls for Ireland in 1806. He had a small, slim body, a stuttering, harsh, shrill voice, originally of such a diffident nature that in the midst of his first case he became speechless and dropped his brief to the floor, and yet by perseverance and experience he became one of the most eloquent and powerful forensic advocates of the world. As a cross-examiner it was said of Curran that "he could unravel the most ingenious web which perjury ever spun, he could seize on every fault and inconsistency, and build on them a denunciation terrible in its earnestness."¹⁸

It was said of Scarlett, Lord Abinger, that he won his cases because there were twelve Sir James Scarletts in the jury-box. He became one of the leading jury lawyers of his time, so far as winning verdicts was concerned. Scarlett used to wheedle the juries over the weak places in his case. Choate would rush them right over with that enthusiasm which he put into everything, "with fire in his eye and fury on his tongue." Scarlett would level himself right down to each juryman, while he flattered and won them. In his cross-examinations "he would take those he had to examine, as it were by the hand, made them his friends, entered into familiar conversation with them, encouraged them to tell him what would best answer his purpose, and thus secured a victory without appearing to commence a conflict."

A story is told about Scarlett by Justice Wightman who was leaving his court one day and found himself walking in a crowd alongside a countryman, whom he had seen, day by day, serving as a juryman, and to whom he could not help speaking. Liking the look of the man, and finding that this was the first occasion on which he had been at the court, Judge Wightman asked him what he thought of the leading counsel. "Well," said the countryman, "that lawyer Brougham be a wonderful man, he can talk, he can, but I don't think nowt of Lawyer Scarlett."—"Indeed!" exclaimed the judge, "you surprise me, for you have given him all the verdicts."—"Oh, there's nowt in that," was the reply, "he be so lucky, you see, he be always on the right side."¹⁹

Choate also had a way of getting himself "into the jury-box," and has been known to address a single juryman, who he feared was against him, for an hour at a time. After he had piled up proof and persuasion all together, one of his favorite expressions was, "But this is only half my case, gentlemen, I go now to the main body of my proofs."

Like Scarlett, Erskine was of medium height and slender, but he was handsome and magnetic, quick and nervous, "his motions resembled those of a blood horse—as light, as limber, as much betokening strength and speed." He, too, lacked the advantage of a college education and was at first painfully unready of speech. In his maiden effort he would have abandoned his case, had he not felt, as he said, that his children were tugging at his gown. "In later years," Choate once said of him, "he spoke the best English ever spoken by an advocate." Once, when the presiding judge threatened to commit him for contempt, he replied, "Your Lordship may proceed in what manner you think fit; I know my duty as well as your Lordship knows yours." His simple grace of diction, quiet and natural passion, was in marked contrast to Rufus Choate, whose delivery has been described as "a musical flow of rhythm and cadence, more like a long, rising, and swelling song than a talk or an argument." To one of his clients who was dissatisfied with Erskine's efforts in his behalf, and who had written his counsellor on a slip of paper, "I'll be hanged if I don't plead my own cause," Erskine quietly replied, "You'll be hanged if you do." Erskine boasted that in twenty years he had never been kept a day from court by ill health. And it is said of Curran that he has been known to rise before a jury, after a session of sixteen hours with only twenty minutes' intermission, and make one of the most memorable arguments of his life.

Among the more modern advocates of the English Bar, Sir Henry Hawkins stands out conspicuously. He is reputed to have taken more money away with him from the Bar than any man of his generation. His leading characteristic when at the Bar, was his marvellous skill in cross-examination. He was associated with Lord Coleridge in the first Tichborne trial, and in his cross-examination of the witnesses, Baignet and Carter, he made his reputation as "the foremost cross-examiner in the world."²⁰ Sir Richard Webster was another great cross-examiner. He is said to have received $100,000 for his services in the trial before the Parnell Special Commission, in which he was opposed to Sir Charles Russell.

Rufus Choate said of Daniel Webster, that he considered him the grandest lawyer in the world. And on his death-bed Webster called Choate the most brilliant man in America. Parker relates an episode characteristic of the clashing of swords between these two idols of the American Bar. "We heard Webster once, in a sentence and a look, crush an hour's argument of Choate's curious workmanship; it was most intellectually wire-drawn and hair-splitting, with Grecian sophistry, and a subtlety the Leontine Gorgias might have envied. It was about two car-wheels, which to common eyes looked as like as two eggs; but Mr. Choate, by a fine line of argument between tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, and a discourse on 'the fixation of points' so deep and fine as to lose itself in obscurity, showed the jury there was a heaven-wide difference between them. 'But,' said Mr. Webster, and his great eyes opened wide and black, as he stared at the big twin wheels before him, 'gentlemen of the jury, there they are—look at 'em;' and as he pronounced this answer, in tones of vast volume, the distorted wheels seemed to shrink back again into their original similarity, and the long argument on the 'fixation of points' died a natural death. It was an example of the ascendency of mere character over mere intellectuality; but so much greater, nevertheless, the intellectuality."²¹

Jeremiah Mason was quite on a par with either Choate or Webster before a jury. His style was conversational and plain. He was no orator. He would go close up to the jury-box, and in the plainest possible logic force conviction upon his hearers. Webster said he "owed his own success to the close attention he was compelled to pay for nine successive years, day by day, to Mason's efforts at the same Bar." As a cross-examiner he had no peer at the New England Bar.

In the history of our own New York Bar there have been, probably, but few equals of Judge William Fullerton as a cross-examiner. He was famous for his calmness and mildness of manner, his rapidly repeated questions; his sallies of wit interwoven with his questions, and an ingenuity of method quite his own.

Fullerton's cross-examinations in the celebrated Tilton vs. Henry Ward Beecher case gave him an international reputation, and were considered the best ever heard in this country. And yet these very examinations, laborious and brilliant, were singularly unproductive of results, owing probably to the unusual intelligence and shrewdness of the witnesses themselves. The trial as a whole was by far the most celebrated of its kind the New York courts have ever witnessed. One of the most eminent of Christian preachers was charged with using the persuasive powers of his eloquence, strengthened by his religious influence, to alienate the affections and destroy the probity of a member of his church—a devout and theretofore pure-souled woman, the wife of a long-loved friend. He was charged with continuing the guilty relation during the period of a year and a half, and of cloaking the offence to his own conscience and to hers under specious words of piety; of invoking first divine blessing on it, and then divine guidance out of it; and finally of adding perjury to seduction in order to escape the consequences. His accusers, moreover, Mr. Tilton and Mr. Moulton, were persons of public reputation and honorable station in life.

The length and complexity of Fullerton's cross-examinations preclude any minute mention of them here. Once when he found fault with Mr. Beecher for not answering his questions more freely and directly, the reply was frankly made, "I am afraid of you!"

While cross-examining Beecher about the celebrated "ragged letter," Fullerton asked why he had not made an explanation to the church, if he was innocent. Beecher answered that he was keeping his part of the compact of silence, and added that he did not believe the others were keeping theirs. There was audible laughter throughout the court room at this remark, and Judge Neilson ordered the court officer to remove from the court room any person found offending—"Except the counsel," spoke up Mr. Fullerton. Later the cross-examiner exclaimed impatiently to Mr. Beecher that he was bound to find out all about these things before he got through, to which Beecher retorted, "I don't think you are succeeding very well."