Wonderful Likenesses that have led to Miscarriages of Justice
Originally published in Pearson's Weekly (C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.) vol.1 #10 (27 Sep 1890).
It is one of the strongest arguments of those who advocate the abolition of capital punishment that many cases are on record of the execution of perfectly innocent men owing to the likenesses which they bore to criminals. No one can think of the possibility of such a thing happening without an involuntary shudder. It is to most minds a dreadful thing to be suddenly cut off in the full glow of life, but how infinitely greater the horror of this must be to one who sees a chain of evidence being wound round him that will drag him to the scaffold, while all the time he knows that there is some hideous mistake, and that he is to suffer a disgraceful death for no greater fault than his accidental resemblance to someone else.
Playgoers will remember that an incident of this kind forms the plot of the Lyons Mail. It is no mere creation of the playwright's mind, but is founded on the famous case of Lesurques, which was heard in France, in 1796.
On the 27th of May in that year an attack was made upon the Lyons mail, the passengers were robbed, and both driver and guard were murdered. The assault was the work of a band, the leader of which made himself especially prominent. A young man named Lesurques, well to do and of good position, was arrested on the charge of being this man. The evidence against him was strong, as the servants of an inn where the band of highwaymen had stopped to refresh themselves swore that he had been amongst them. Several of the passengers were certain that he was the leader of the attack upon the coach, and in all no fewer than nine persons took oath as to his identity.
Fortunately, as he thought, Lesurques was able to adduce satisfactory proof of an alibi, and his case was further assisted by the evidence of a woman who was familiar with the real criminal, one Dubosc, and who swore positively that it was he, and not the accused man, who had been the ringleader.
The tide was turned against the unfortunate victim of circumstances, however, by one of the witnesses, who swore that he recollected a scar which the prisoner had upon his forehead; others called this blemish to mind; and the case ed a yet blacker aspect for the unfortunate man When a passenger in the coach asserted that he had noticed another scar on the hand of the culprit. He described its position minutely, and Lesurques' fate was sealed when it was discovered that his hand bore the mark exactly as had been stated.
The alibi was looked upon as an ingenious attempt to escape from the hands of the law. The evidence of the woman who had incriminated Dubosc was decried, and, in spite of the exertions of his friends, Lesurques, who, to the very end continued to assert his entire innocence, was condemned and executed.
Some time after Dubosc was arrested for another crime. It was noticed that he bore a marked resemblance to the man who bad been put to death for the murder of the guard and driver of the Lyons mail, and the nine witnesses who had so positively sworn to the identity of the latter were confronted with him. With one consent they admitted that he answered to their impression of the leader of the highwaymen as well as Lesurques had; the truth came out, and, although the dead could not be recalled to life, the name of Lesurques was freed from the stain which had rested upon it.
Here is a case that would be thought impossible. Granted a likeness between two men sufficiently strong to make nine people take the responsibility of swearing on a matter that they knew was one of life or death, the existence of two similar scars on the bodies of the two would surely seem to be too great a stretch even on the part of the author of a work of fiction; and yet they actually did exist.
More fortunate was a well-known man of the last century—Mr. Frank Douglas. As in the case of the Frenchman, Mr. Douglas was indicted for highway robbery. The evidence as to his identity was conclusive, and he would have certainly have shared the fate of Lesurques had not the real perpetrator of the robbery—a notorious thief named Page—been providentially captured just then, and brought to the prison where Mr. Douglas was confined. The resemblance between the two was at once noticed, and Page took the place of ¢he man who had nearly suffered for his crime.
There have been cases in this country which ended in a more tragic manner, as that of the two Perreaus, who at the end of the last century were executed for a forgery on Mr. Adair, which it was afterwards conclusively proved that they had never committed.
in 1749 man named Coleman, who was employed in a brewery, was on Kennington Common for the murder of Sarah Green. She swore positively to his identity shortly before she breathed her last, and as he was unable to to give any satisfactory account of his whereabouts at time the crime was committed, her testimony was held to be sufficient to condemn him. The real criminals were discovered two years afterwards, and two of them suffered the extreme penalty.
Shortly after this a man, who was after his death proved have been perfectly innocent of the deed, was condemned to death at the Surrey Assizes on the oath of the person attacked.
A year after the Lyons mail case in France a similar miscarriage of justice occurred in this country. A Mr. Fryer was walking with his cousin, Miss Ann Fryer, when he was set upon by two men who, as he resisted their attempts to rob him, resorted to violence which ended in his death. A printer, named James Mackley, and Martin Clinch, a bookseller, were arrested for the crime, and Miss Fryer swore that they were the two men who had attacked her cousin. They were convicted on her evidence and put to death. Some years afterwards the real assailants of Mr. Fryer made a confession which resulted in the execution of both of them.
Everyone remembers the Tichborne case. It was remarked during the time it was before the Courts that a very similar one had occurred in France. On the revocation of the Edict of Nantes a Protestant named De Caille made good his escape to Savoy. There his only son died; but some years later a soldier, Pierre Megè, came forward, asserting that he was the son of M. De Caille, and claiming the family estates.
The litigation that ensued lasted no less a time than seven years, and was eventually decided against Megè. As in the Tichborne case, this claimant in no way resembled the man he sought to impersonate. Indeed, no two men could have been less alike, Megè being tall and dark, while De Caille was a small, very fair man. However, this difference did not prevent quite a number of the hundreds of witnesses who were examined from asserting their belief in the bonâ-fides of the impostor.
Perhaps the most curious case of mistaken identity that ever occurred was one which the Parliament of Toulouse was called upon to decide in the middle of the sixteenth century.
A married man, by name Martin Guerre, left his wife for eight years. Shortly after his departure, the probable duration of which was well known, an adventurer bethought him that it would be a very pleasant thing to enjoy the absent man's property. The likeness which this Arnauld Dutelle bore to Guerre was very extraordinary, so much so that the wife of the latter received him without a doubt, and other members of his family were equally deceived.
Everything went on smoothly, children were born to Madame Guerre and the man whom she supposed to be her husband, and there was no suspicion that he was anything but what he pretended to be.
Eventually, however, a dispute arose as to his identity. The matter was brought before the Parliament of Toulouse, and excited widespread interest. Hundreds of witnesses were brought up. Large numbers refused to express any opinion on the matter, but fifty were positive that Dutelle was Guerre, while an equal number were as sure that he was not.
In the middle of all the wrangling the real Martin Guerre put in an appearance, and one would have thought that there the matter would have ended. Nothing of the kind, however. The usurper stuck stoutly to his guns, and declared that the man whose place he had assumed was a brazen-faced impostor. So confidently did he urge his suit that he gained a number of partisans, and the real Guerre had no little difficulty in establishing his case and claiming his wife and property: There does not seem to be any record of the fate of Dutelle beyond the fact that several people refused to be persuaded that he was an impostor, and to their dying day considered him a deeply injured man.