Trial of William Palmer

Attorney-General’s Address to Jury

Attorney-General

Mr. Attorney-General—May it please your lordships—Gentlemen of the jury, the case for the prosecution and the case for the defence are now before you; and it becomes my duty to address to you such observations upon the whole of the materials, upon which your judgment is to be founded, as suggest themselves to my mind. I have a solemn and an important duty to perform. I wish that I could have answered the appeal made to me the other day by my learned friend, Mr. Serjeant Shee, and have felt that I was satisfied with the case that he submitted to you on the part of the defence. But, standing here as the instrument of public justice, I feel that I should be wanting in the duty that I have to perform if I did not ask at your hands for a verdict of guilty against the accused. I approach the consideration of the case in what, I hope, I may term a spirit of fairness, of moderation, and of truth. My business is to convince you, if I can, by facts and legitimate argument, of the prisoner’s guilt. If I cannot establish it to your satisfaction, no man will rejoice more than I shall in the verdict that you will pronounce of not guilty.

Attorney-General

Gentlemen, in the vast mass of materials which the evidence in this case has brought before you, two main questions present themselves prominently for your consideration—- did the deceased man, into whose death we are now inquiring, die a natural death, or was he taken off by the foul means of poison? And if the latter proposition be sanctioned by your approbation, then comes the important—if possible the still more important—question of whether the prisoner at the bar was the author of his death? I will proceed at once without further observation to the discussion of those questions, taking them in the order in which I have proposed them. Did John Parsons Cook die by poison? I assert and maintain the affirmative of that proposition. The case which is submitted to you on behalf of the Crown is this, that having been first practised upon by antimony, he was at last killed by strychnia; and the proposition which I have to establish is that the death of the deceased was occasioned by that poison. The first question, with a view of seeing what is the conclusion at which we shall arrive upon that point, is, what was the immediate and proximate cause of his death? The witnesses for the prosecution have told you one and all that he died, in their judgment, of tetanus, which signifies a spasmodic convulsive action of the muscles of the body. Can there be any doubt that that opinion is correct? Of course, it does not follow that because he died from tetanus it must be tetanus from strychnia; that is a matter for after consideration; but inasmuch as strychnia produces death by tetanus, we must see, in the first place, whether it admits of any doubt that he did die of tetanus. I have listened with attention to every form in which that disease has been brought under your consideration, whether by the positive evidence of witnesses, or by reference to the works of scientific authors; and I assert deliberately that no case either of a human subject, or of any animal, has been brought under your notice in which the symptoms of tetanus have been so marked as they are in this case; from the moment the paroxysm came on, of which this unhappy man died, the symptoms were of the most marked and of the most striking character. Every muscle, says the medical man who was present at the time, of his body was convulsed; he expressed the most intense dread of suffocation; he entreated them to lift him up lest he should be suffocated, and when they stooped to raise him every muscle of his body, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, was so stiffened that the flexibility of the trunk and limbs was gone, so that they could have raised him as you would raise a dead corpse or a lifeless log. It was found to be impossible, and the man prayed to be turned over in order to escape from the sense of the imminent risk of suffocation; they turned him over, and in the midst of doing so a fearful paroxysm, one mighty spasm, seems to have seized upon his heart, to have pressed from it the life blood, so that in a moment vitality ebbed, and the man was dead before them; when dead, the body exhibited the most marked symptoms of this most fearful disease; it was bowed from head to foot, and it would have rested, if it had been so placed, says the witness, upon the back of the head and the heels; the hands were clenched with a grasp which it required power to overcome, and the feet were curved till they assumed the appearance of a natural malformation. It is impossible to conceive symptoms more striking of tetanus; nor is it possible to conceive evidence more dishonest than that which has attempted to represent it as any other than as a case of tetanus.

Attorney-General

Well, then, if it was a case of tetanus, as to which I will not waste your time with any further observations, was it a case of tetanus from strychnia? I will confine myself for the moment to the exhibition of the symptoms as they have been described by the witnesses. Tetanus may proceed from natural causes as well as from the administration of poison. While the symptoms last they are the same, but in the course of the symptoms before the disease reaches its consummation in the death of the patient the distinction between the two is marked by characteristics which will enable any one conversant with the subject to distinguish between the two. We have been told upon the highest authority that the distinctions are these—Natural tetanus is a disease not of minutes, not even of hours, but of days. It takes, say several of the witnesses, from three to four days, and will extend to a period of even three weeks, before the patient is destroyed. Upon that point we have the most abundant and conclusive evidence. We have the evidence of gentlemen who have made it their especial study, like Mr. Curling and Dr. Todd. We have the evidence of one of the most eminent practitioners who ever adorned that profession or any other, I mean Sir Benjamin Brodie. We have the evidence of Mr. Gordon, who for twenty-eight years was surgeon to the Bristol Hospital; we have the evidence of Mr. Daniel, who saw twenty-five or thirty of these cases of natural tetanus; we have the evidence of a gentleman who practised for twenty-five years in India, where, owing to the particular character of the climate, those cases are infinitely more frequent than they present themselves here, and he gives exactly the same description of the course of symptoms through which this disease runs. Idiopathic or traumatic tetanus are therefore, upon the evidence, out of the question; but traumatic tetanus is out of the question for a very different reason. Traumatic tetanus is tetanus brought on by lesion of some part of the body. What is there in this particular case to show that there was lesion in any part of the body at all? We have had the most singular representations upon the subject of Mr. Cook’s health made by the witnesses who have come here on behalf of the defence, and who appear to have come into that box with the determination as far as possible to misconceive every fact which they could pervert to their purpose. We call before you for the purpose of showing what Cook’s health was an eminent physician who had had him under his care. It seems that in the spring of 1855 Cook, having found certain small spots manifest themselves in one or two parts of his body, and having something of ulcers under his tongue, or in his throat, conceived that he was labouring under symptoms of a particular character, and he addressed himself to Dr. Savage, who found the course of medicine he had been pursuing, founded upon this belief, was, in his judgment, an erroneous one; he altered it altogether; he enjoined the discontinuance of mercury, and was obeyed in his injunction; and the result was that the deceased, who was suffering, not from disease, but from the treatment, rapidly grew well. Nevertheless, lest there should be the possibility of mistake, Dr. Savage made him come to him from time to time that he might see that things were going on right, and he sees, long before the summer had advanced, the very unsatisfactory symptoms had entirely gone, and that there was nothing about him except that affection of the throat to which sometimes people are subject, some abnormal condition of one of the tonsils, but in other respects the man was better than he had been, and might be said to be perfectly convalescent. On the very day he left London to go into the country about a fortnight before the races, his stepfather accompanied him to the station, and congratulated him upon his healthy and vigorous appearance, and the young man, in the consciousness of the possession of health, struck his breast, and said he was well, and he felt so.

Attorney-General

Well, he goes to Shrewsbury, and shortly afterwards came those matters to which I shall have to call your attention presently, more particularly that ended in his death. I want to know upon what part of this evidence there is the slightest pretence for saying that this man had any affection about him from which traumatic tetanus could ensue. It is said at some former time he had exhibited his throat to some of the witnesses who were called, and that he had applied to Palmer for some mercurial wash to apply to his throat, or some of those ulcers. The precise period of it is not fixed, but it is perfectly clear that though he had at one time adopted that course, under the recommendation of Dr. Savage, he had got rid of it; and there is not the slightest pretence for saying that this man was suffering under a syphilitic affection of any kind; nevertheless that fact was distinctly and unequivocally negatived by a man of the highest authority—a medical gentleman of eminence—under whose treatment the man got so rapidly well. That fact is assumed by the witnesses for the defence as the ground upon which to suggest that there was traumatic tetanus in this case. It is a pretence, gentlemen, which has not the shadow of a foundation, and which I should be shrinking from my duty if I did not denounce as altogether unworthy of your attention. There was nothing about the man, according to the statement of all those who were competent to give you an opinion, which would warrant for a single moment the supposition that there was anything in any part of the man’s body which could justify the notion of traumatic tetanus; even if there were, the character which his symptoms assumed when the tetanus set in is utterly incompatible, according to the evidence of all the witnesses, with a case of traumatic tetanus. One or two cases of traumatic tetanus have been adduced in evidence on the part of the defence. We had the case of a man who was brought to the London Hospital in the evening, and who died the same night. Yes, but what were the facts of that case? The facts are that he had had before he was brought in repeated paroxysms; that he felt premonitory symptoms early in the morning; he was suffering from ulcers of a most aggravated description; and that the symptoms had run their course, rapidly it is true, but still the disease was not a matter of minutes, but a matter of hours. There is no other case that I am aware of. There is the case of the boy who was brought in, if it be necessary to allude to it. But there again we have the disease existing for some time before it ends in death. It is a matter there again of hours, and not of minutes, and not a single paroxysm like this was observed. But it is then suggested that this may have been a case of idiopathic tetanus. Idiopathic tetanus proceeding from what? They say that Mr. Cook was a man of delicate constitution—subject to excitement—that he had something the matter with his chest—that in addition to having something the matter with his chest, he had this diseased condition of the throat—and, putting all these things together, they say that the man, if he took cold, might get idiopathic tetanus. We are launched into a sea of speculation and of possibilities. Mr. Nunneley, who comes forward here for the purpose of inducing you to believe that there was anything like idiopathic tetanus, goes through a bead-roll of the supposed infirmities of Mr. Cook and talks about his excitability—talks about his delicacy of chest—talks about the affection of his throat—goes through those various heads, and says that those things may have predisposed him to idiopathic tetanus if he took cold. What evidence is there that he ever did take cold? Not the slightest in the world. The man, from the beginning to the end of the symptoms, was never treated for cold by anybody, or ever complained that he had taken cold. I cannot help saying, to me it seems that it is a scandal upon a learned, a distinguished, and a liberal profession, that men should come forward and put forward such speculations as these, perverting the facts, and drawing from them sophistical and unwarranted conclusions with the view of deceiving a jury. I have the greatest respect for science—no man can have more; but I cannot repress my indignation and abhorrence when I see it thus perverted and prostituted to the purposes of a particular cause in a Court of justice. Do not talk to me about excitement, as Mr. Nunneley did the other day, being the occasion of idiopathic tetanus. You remember the sorts of excitement he spoke of. They are unworthy of your notice, and they were topics discreditable to be put forward by a witness as worthy of the attention of sensible men constituting such a tribunal as you are.

Attorney-General

But suppose for a single moment that excitement of this kind could produce any such effect or influence, where is the excitement manifested by Cook as leading to this supposed disease? They say that the man, when his mare won at Shrewsbury, was full of excitement; and well he might be—his fortunes depended upon the result of that race; and I do not deny for a few minutes he was overpowered by the emotions that the joy of the moment excited in his breast. But that subsided, and we have no further trace of it from that time to the moment of his death. The man passed the rest of the day with his friends in ordinary conversation and in ordinary enjoyment. No trace of emotion was left about him. He is taken ill; he goes to Rugeley; he is taken ill there again; is there the slightest symptom of excitement about the man, or, on the other hand, of depression? Not the slightest in the world. When he is ill, like most other people, he is low; but as soon as he gets a little better he is cheerful and happy; he admits his friends, and he converses with them; the very night of his death, so far from any excitement, his conversation is full of cheerfulness and mirth—he is laughing and happy, little thinking, poor wretch, of the fate that was impending over him. He is cheerful and happy, talking of the future, not in the language of excitement on the one hand, or of depression on the other. What pretence is there for this idle story of excitement and depression? Not the slightest shadow of foundation in the world. But if there were—if those things were capable of producing that form of tetanus which goes by the term “idiopathic,” the character of the disease is so essentially different that it is impossible to mistake the two. What are the cases which they attempt to set up against it? They have brought you the case of Mary Watson, which a gentleman came all the way from Scotland to tell us about. The girl had been ill all day. She was taken with cramps in the night, probably originating in the stomach, extending to all other parts of her body. She gets well in a very short time, and goes about her business. Is that case to be compared for a single instant to the death agony of that wretched man, and the paroxysm that destroyed him? Those are the sort of cases with which they attempt to meet such symptoms as those which are spoken to by the witnesses as accompanying the decease of Mr. Cook.

Attorney-General

Gentlemen, I venture, upon the evidence, to assert boldly that the cases of idiopathic tetanus and traumatic, or what I may call natural tetanus, are marked by clear and distinct characteristics, distinguishing them from the tetanus produced by strychnia; and I say that the tetanus which accompanied Mr. Cook’s death is not referable to either of those forms of tetanus. You have upon that point the evidence of witnesses of the highest competency and of the most unquestionable integrity; and upon their evidence I am quite satisfied you can come to no other conclusion but that this was not a case either of idiopathic or of traumatic tetanus. But, then, they say it may have been something else; and various attempts have been made to set up different causes as capable of producing this tetanic disease. And, first, we have the theory of general convulsions; and Mr. Nunneley, having gone through the bead-roll of the supposed infirmities of Mr. Cook, says, “Oh, this may have been a case of general convulsions. I have known general convulsions to assume a tetanic character.” “Well, but pause a moment, Mr. Nunneley, have you ever seen one single case in which death arising from general convulsions, accompanied with tetanic symptoms, has not ended in the unconsciousness of the patient before death!—No, I never knew such a case—not one. But in some book or other, I am told that there is some such case reported”; and he cites, not for that purpose, I think, but he cites, with reference to general convulsions being sometimes accompanied with tetanic symptoms, and ending in death, a very eminent author of the present day. I mean Dr. Copland. Dr. Copland is living, and Dr. Copland might have been called. The author of the book, I apprehend, would stand before you as a higher authority than a man who merely quotes the book as the foundation of his knowledge. Dr. Copland might have been called. Dr. Copland was not called, notwithstanding the challenge which I threw out. Why? Because it is infinitely better in such a case to call together from the east and from the west practitioners of more or less obscurity, instead of bringing to bear upon the subject the light of science which is treasured up in the breasts of the eminent practitioners with whom this great city abounds. Dr. Copland is not called; but I say, as regards general convulsions, the distinction is plain, that where they destroy the patient they destroy consciousness; and here it is unquestionably the fact, that to the last moment of Mr. Cook’s existence, until his burst heart ceased to beat, his consciousness remained.

Attorney-General

But then comes another supposed condition from which death in this form may be said to have resulted, and that is the case which was intended to be set up by a very eminent practitioner, I mean Mr. Partridge. It seems that in the post-mortem examination of Mr. Cook, when the spinal marrow was investigated, certain granules were found, and this is seized upon. It is said, “Oh, those granules may have occasioned tetanic convulsions similar to those which were found in Mr. Cook’s case,” and a very eminent gentleman is called to give his opinion upon that subject. I admit him to be not only a man of great eminence, but a man of the highest honour and the most perfect veracity. I allude to Mr. Partridge. I must distinguish between him and other of my learned friend’s witnesses. Some there were who would not be induced, for any consideration in the world, to swerve from what they believed to be the truth. Mr. Partridge is called here to prove that this was a case of what he called arachnitis—inflammation of the arachnoid in consequence of the granules, or some other abnormal condition. I asked him the symptoms which he would find in such a case. I called his attention to what evidently had not been done before, namely, the symptoms of Mr. Cook’s case; and I asked him, in simple, straightforward terms, whether, looking at those symptoms, he would pledge his opinion, in the face of the medical world and the Court, that this was a case of arachnitis, and he candidly admitted that he would not assert that this was in his opinion a case of arachnitis.

Then we have the gentleman who comes all the way from Scotland to inform us, as the next proposition, that Mr. Cook’s was a case of epileptic convulsions with tetanic complications. Now, I asked him this question, “Did you ever know a case of epilepsy, with or without tetanic convulsions, in which consciousness was not destroyed before the patient died?” He said, “No; I cannot say that I ever did, but I have read in some book that such a case has occurred.” “Is there anything to make you think that this was epilepsy?—Well, it may have been epilepsy, because I do not know what else to ascribe it to; but I must admit that epilepsy is characterised generally by a loss of consciousness.” “Well, then, what difference would tetanic complications make?” That he is unable to explain. I remind you of that species of evidence in which the witnesses resorted to the most speculative reasoning, and put forward the barest possibilities without the shadow of a foundation. But this I undertake to assert, and I refer to the evidence to prove it, that there is not a single case either to which they have spoken as coming within their own experience, or of which they have spoken as the result of reading, in which there were the formidable and decisive symptoms of marked tetanus which existed in this case of Mr. Cook.

Attorney-General

Having gone through this evidence, I think we have four sets of diseases—general convulsions, arachnitis, epilepsy proper, and epilepsy with tetanic complications. I expected that we had pretty well exhausted the whole of those scientific theories, but we were destined to have another that assumed the formidable name of angina pectoris. I do not know whether it struck you as remarkable that when my learned friend opened this case for the defence he never ventured to assert what would be the nature of the disease to which he would endeavour to refer the symptoms of Mr. Cook; and it must, I think, have struck you as a very remarkable thing that no less than four or five distinct and separate theories are set up by the witnesses who appear on the part of the defence—general convulsions, arachnitis, epilepsy with tetanic complications, and, lastly, angina pectoris. My learned friend had, however, this advantage in not stating to you what was the theory that his medical witnesses would endeavour to set up, because, one after another, I must admit they took me entirely by surprise. The gentleman who was called yesterday at the last moment, and who talked of angina pectoris, would not have escaped quite so easily if I had had the books to which he referred under my hand, and had been able to expose, as I would have done, the ignorance or the presumption of the assertion which he dared to make. I say ignorance or presumption, or, what is worse, an intention to deceive. I assert it in the face of the whole medical profession, and I am satisfied I shall have their verdict in my favour.

Attorney-General

But it is a fact which I am entitled to dwell upon, that all those medical witnesses, one and all, differed in the views which they take in this case. There is this remarkable coincidence between the views of some of them and the views of the witnesses whom I called—Mr. Partridge and Dr. Robinson, two of the most respectable witnesses they called, ay, and Dr. Letheby himself, strongly as he was biassed in favour of the defence, being three of the most eminent of the witnesses whom my learned friend brought forward, agreed with the statement made by Sir Benjamin Brodie, and supported by other witnesses whom I brought before you, that in the whole of their experience, in the whole range of their learning and information, they knew of no known disease to which the symptoms of Mr. Cook could possibly be referred. When such men as those tell us such a fact, I cannot but submit to you that it is impossible to exaggerate its importance. But, then, if it be the fact that no known disease can account for such symptoms as those of Mr. Cook, and that they are referable to poison alone, can any one entertain a doubt that that poison was the poison of strychnia? The symptoms, at all events from the time the paroxysm set in, are precisely the same. Distinctions are sought to be made by the subtlety of the witnesses for the defence between some of the antecedent symptoms and some of the appearances after death; but I think I shall show you beyond all possibility of contradiction, that those distinctions are imaginary, and have no foundation in fact. I think I may take this, however, along with me as I go on, that the witnesses called for the defence admit this fact, that from the time the paroxysm set in, of which Mr. Cook died, until the time of the death, the symptoms are precisely similar to the symptoms of tetanus from strychnia. But, then, they say, and this is worthy of your most attentive consideration, that there are points of difference which have led them to the conclusion, or some of them at all events, that those symptoms could not have resulted from strychnia. Let us see what they are. In the first place, they showed that the period which elapsed between the supposed administration of the poison and the first appearance of the symptoms was longer than they have ever observed in animals upon which they have experimented. Now, the first observation which arises there is this, that there is a known difference between animal and human life, in the power with which specific things act upon its organisation, and it may well be that the poison administered to a rabbit will produce its effect in a given time; it by no means follows that it will produce effect in the same time upon an animal of a different description, and still less does it follow that it will exercise its baneful influence in the same time upon a human subject. The whole of the evidence on both sides tends to establish this fact, that not only in individuals of different species, but between individuals of the same species, the same poison and the same dose will produce effects different in degree, different in duration, and different in power. But, again, it is perfectly notorious that the rapidity with which the poison begins to work depends materially upon the mode of its administration. If it is administered as a fluid, it acts with great rapidity; if it is administered in a solid state, its effects come on more slowly; and if it is administered in some indurated substance, it will act with still greater tardiness; and if that substance is difficult of solution, then the period will be still longer before the substance, having become dissolved, is acted upon by the absorbents and taken up into the system.

Attorney-General

Now, what was the period at which this poison began to act after its administration, assuming it to have been poison for the purpose of argument? It seems, from Mr. Jones’ statement, that the prisoner came and administered these pills; he saw him administer the pills somewhere about eleven o’clock, so that they were not administered upon his first arrival. The patient, as though with an instinctive sense of the peril which impended, strenuously resisted the attempt to make him take them, and no doubt those remonstrances and the endeavour to overcome them occupied some period of time. The pills at last were taken, and, assuming them to have contained strychnia (which I only do now for the purpose of argument), how soon did they begin to operate? Mr. Jones says he went down after this and had his supper, and came back about twelve o’clock. Upon his return to the room, after a word or two of conversation with Cook, he proceeded to undress and go to bed; and he had not been in bed ten minutes before the warning came that another of these paroxysms was about to take place. The maid-servants put it still earlier; they say that about ten minutes before twelve the first alarm was given, which would make the interval little more than three-quarters of an hour from the taking of the pills and the first manifestation of the symptoms. When, therefore, my learned friend’s witnesses tell us that it took an hour and a half or two hours, we have here another of those exaggerated determinations to see the facts only in the way that will make most for the view which they think proper to put forward. I say it certainly was not more than an hour, and I find in some of the experiments that have been made that the duration of time before which the poison began to work has been little less, if any less, than an hour. Mr. Morley, who is as much entitled to your attention as Mr. Nunneley—indeed, when I contrast the way in which the two men gave their evidence, I am paying him but a poor compliment when I say that he is as worthy of attention as Mr. Nunneley—Mr. Morley says in his evidence that five or six minutes, or something less than an hour, is the period which he observed the poison required to produce its effects upon animals, and in every one of the cases which we have got it will be seen that more than an hour was necessary. In the case of the girl at Glasgow, though I see the medical gentleman speaks of twenty minutes when he was called in, he could have only had that information from the statement of some of the people about. I see the nurse says it was three-quarters of an hour before the pills began to work upon the girl. There may have been some cause for the pills not beginning to take effect within a certain time after their administration; it would be very easy to mix them with some substance that should render them difficult of solution; nay, which might retard their action. I cannot for a single moment bring myself to believe, if in all other respects you are perfectly satisfied that the symptoms, the consequences, and effects were analogous and similar to those produced by strychnia, it is not because those pills may have taken a quarter of an hour or a longer time to manifest their working, it is not on that account you will hesitate to come to the conclusion that strychnia was administered in this case. But then they say, yes, but the premonitory symptoms were wanting here. They tell us in animals they observed that the animal manifests first some uneasiness, shrinks, and gathers itself into itself, as it were, avoids movement, and then certain involuntary twitchings about the head come, those being the premonitory symptoms before the paroxysms set in. They say there were no premonitory symptoms in Cook’s case; I utterly deny that proposition—I say there were premonitory symptoms of the most marked character, though he did not describe them in language. He is lying in bed—he suddenly starts up in an agony of alarm. What made him do that? Was there nothing premonitory, nothing that warned him that the paroxysm was coming? It is clear there must have been. He jumps up in his bed, and says, “Fetch me Palmer, I am going to be ill, as I was last night.” What was it but that he knew the symptoms that attended him on the previous evening were now warning him of what he might expect in a short period, unless succour could be obtained? He sits up, and he prays to have his neck rubbed. What was the feeling about the neck but a premonitory symptom which was to precede the paroxysm which presently supervened? He says, “Rub my neck, it gives me comfort to have it done.”

Attorney-General

But here again they take exception, and they say this could not have been tetanus from strychnia, because animals cannot bear to be touched; a touch brings on the paroxysm; not only a touch but a breath of air, a sound, a word, a movement of any one near, will bring on a recurrence of the paroxysm. True; but that is after the paroxysm has once been set up, or when it is just about to begin. It is quite clear that those witnesses who come and say that the fact of Mr. Cook having desired to have his neck rubbed is a fact to prove that this could not be a death from tetanus, have either wilfully suppressed the knowledge in their own minds of the evidence they had heard, or they had paid no attention to it; because in two cases of death from strychnia we have shown the patient endured the touching of the limbs, and found satisfaction from it. In Mrs. Smyth’s case, when her legs were distorted, in the agony of the convulsion she prayed and entreated to have them straightened; she found no additional pain from that operation. The lady at Leeds, in the case which Mr. Nunneley himself attended, implored her husband, between the spasms, to rub her legs and her arms, in order to overcome and subdue their rigidity. That case was under his own knowledge, and, in spite of it, although he detected afterwards strychnia in the body of that unhappy woman, he dares to come forward here and say that the fact of Mr. Cook having before the paroxysm tolerated rubbing, and found comfort in it, proves that this could not have been a death from strychnia. What think you of the honesty of such a witness? But there is a third case, which is the case of Mr. Clutterbuck, spoken to by Mr. Moore. That gentleman had taken an overdose of strychnia, and he suffered from all the pains of tetanus; his only comfort was having his limbs rubbed; and therefore, I say, to contend and to endeavour to persuade a jury that the fact of Cook’s having had his neck rubbed proved that this was not tetanus from strychnia, proves, I say, nothing but the dishonesty and insincerity of the witnesses who can dare to put forward such a pretence.

But, then, they go further, and they say that Mr. Cook was able to swallow. So he was, before the paroxysm came on. Nobody ever pretended that he could swallow after the paroxysm came on. He swallowed the pills, and, what is very curious, and, as they think, bears out and illustrates a part of their theory, is this. It was the act of attempting to swallow the pills—the sort of movement that must have taken place in raising his head and neck for the purpose—that immediately brings on the violent paroxysm of which he died. So far from that in the slightest degree militating against the supposition that this was a case of poisoning by strychnia, it is strongly and decisively conclusive in its favour.

Attorney-General

But then they take us to the appearances after death, and they say that there are circumstances to be found which militate against this being a case of strychnia poisoning. Let us see what they are. In the first place, they say the limbs became rigid either at the time of death or immediately after, and that ought not to be found in a case of tetanus from strychnia. Mr. Nunneley says, “In all cases upon which I have experimented I have found the animals become flaccid before death, and they do not become again rigid after it.” I can hardly believe that statement, and I certainly was not a little surprised when the very next witness who got into the box (Mr. Herapath, of Bristol) told us he had made two experiments upon cats, and killed them both. He described them as “indurated and contorted.” Those were his expressions when he found them some hours after death. The presence of rigidity in the body at or immediately after death here is put forward on the part of Mr. Nunneley as one of the grounds upon which he says this was not a death by strychnia, although Dr. Taylor had told us that in the case of one of the cats he killed the rigidity after death was such that upon taking the animal by the hind legs and holding it up in the air, the body maintained its horizontal natural position, as though the animal had been upon its four legs upon a plain surface. Notwithstanding that evidence, Mr. Nunneley had the audacity to say that he did not believe this was a case of poisoning by strychnia, because there had been rigidity of the limbs—because the feet were distorted, the hands clenched, and the muscles rigid as the unhappy man exhibited prior to his death. The very next witness called upon the other side produced two instances in which the animals were indurated from one end of their bodies to the other. As he says they were contorted in all their limbs, and so they remained, it shows what you are to think of the honesty of this sort of evidence, in which facts are selected because they make in favour of the particular hypothesis of the party who brings them forward.

Attorney-General

Then the next thing that is said is that the heart in this case was empty. In the animals Mr. Nunneley and Dr. Letheby have operated upon I think the heart has been found full. I do not think that applies to all the cases; I think they make some exceptions; and, as I said at the outset, it is a remarkable fact connected with the history of this particular poison, that you never can rely upon the precise form or order which the symptoms before death and the appearances after it will assume. There are only certain great, leading, marked characteristic features—the collateral incidents are capable of infinite variety. We have here the main marked characteristic features, and we have, what is more, collateral incidents similar to the cases in which the administration of strychnia and the fact that death was caused by it are beyond the possibility of dispute. In the very evidence which has been adduced of two cases of poisoning, Mrs. Smyth’s and the Glasgow girl, in both the heart had been found contracted and emptied; and it is obvious to any one who reflects for a single moment that the question whether the heart shall be found congested or the lungs congested must depend upon the immediate cause of death, and we know that in cases of tetanus death may result from more than one cause. All the muscles of the body are subject to the exciting action of this powerful poison, but no one can tell in what order those muscles will be affected, or where the poisonous influence will put forth the fulness of its power. If it act upon the respiratory muscles, and arrest the play of the lungs, and with it the breathing of atmospheric air, the result will be that the heart will be left full; but if some spasm seizes on the heart, contracting it and expelling from it the blood that it contains, and so produces death, why the result will be that the heart will be found empty, and the other vessels gorged with blood. So that you have never perfect certainty as to how those symptoms will manifest themselves after death; but that is again put forward as if the fact of the heart having been found empty is a conclusive fact against death having in this case taken place from strychnia. Yet those men who came here to make those statements as witnesses under the sanction of scientific authority must have heard both those cases spoken to by the medical gentlemen who examined those two unfortunate patients after death, and who told us that in both cases the heart was found empty. That gets rid of that matter. And so again with regard to the congestion of the brain and other vessels the same observation applies. If instead of being killed by the action of the poison upon the respiratory muscles or by its action upon the heart, death is the result of a long series of paroxysms exhausting the vital power of the victim, then you expect to find the brain and other vessels congested by those series of convulsions and spasms. As death takes place from one or other of those causes, so will be the appearance of the heart, the brain, and the body after death. There is nothing, I say, in this for a single moment to negative the conclusion which you would otherwise arrive at from the symptoms which appeared in this man’s body at the time of his death and immediately afterwards—that those are the symptoms of tetanus of the strongest and most aggravated kind; that is a proposition about which, I think, you can entertain no doubt. If so, are they referable to tetanus of any other description? Certainly not; because, as Sir Benjamin Brodie told you, the course of the symptoms is marked by characteristics of unquestionable difference.

Attorney-General

Is it not then preposterous to contend that this was not a case of tetanus? And if every one of the distinctions they have attempted to set up I show you to have really nothing to do with the case (because I produce you at once an undoubted case in which the administration of strychnia is beyond the reach of question, in which those particular symptoms and appearances were manifested and observed) I get rid at once of all those vain, futile attempts to distinguish this case, either in its premonitory symptoms or in the appearances either before or upon post-mortem examination. I get rid of all those difficulties, and I come back to the symptoms which attended this unhappy man’s demise. I ask whether you can doubt that, when I have excluded all those cases of tetanic convulsions, epilepsy, and arachnitis, or angina pectoris, which occurred, you recollect, in a young girl after an attack of scarlet fever—in all human probability the scarlet fever had been thrown back upon the system, and had produced all those consequences—when I exclude all those cases, and then, lastly, exclude traumatic or idiopathic tetanus, what remains? The tetanus of strychnia, and the tetanus of strychnia only. I pray your attention to the cases of which evidence has been given, in which there was no question as to strychnia having been administered, there not being the shadow of a doubt about it, and in which the circumstances were so similar, and the symptoms so analogous, that I think you cannot hesitate to come to the conclusion that this was death by strychnia. Medical witnesses of the highest authority, both on the part of the Crown and on the part of the defence, agree that in the whole range of their experience and knowledge they know of no natural disease to which these remarkable symptoms can be referred. If that be so, and there is a known poison that will produce them, how strong, how cogent, how irresistible becomes the inference that to that poison, and to that poison alone, are those symptoms and this death to be ascribed!

Attorney-General

Nevertheless, gentlemen, on the other hand, the case is not without its difficulties; and I will not shrink from the discussion of them, nor from the candid recognition of these difficulties, so far as they in reality exist. Strychnia was not found in this body; and we have it, no doubt upon strong evidence, that in a variety of experiments which have been tried upon the bodies of animals killed by strychnia, strychnia has been detected by the tests which science places at the disposition of scientific men. If strychnia had been found, of course there would have been no difficulty, and we should have had none of the ingenious theories which gentlemen from a variety of parts have been brought forward to propound in this Court. The question for your consideration is, whether the absence of its detection leads conclusively to the view that this death could not have been caused by the administration of that poison. Now, in the first place, under what circumstances was the examination made of which Dr. Taylor and Dr. Rees have spoken? They tell you that when the stomach of this man was brought to them for the purpose of analysis, it was presented to them under the most unfavourable circumstances. They say that its contents had been lost, and that they had no opportunity of experimenting upon them. It is very true that those who put up the jar make a statement somewhat different. They say that the contents of the stomach were emptied into the jar, but there appears (at all events I will not put it higher than accident), by accident, to have been some spilling of the contents; and there is, I think, the clearest and most undeniable evidence of very considerable bungling in the way in which the stomach was cut, and the way in which it was emptied into the jar. It was cut from end to end, says Dr. Taylor. It was tied up at both ends; it had been turned inside out into the contents of the intestines, and lay there in a mass of fœculent matter, and was therefore in a condition the most unsatisfactory for analysis and experiment. It is very true that the witnesses upon the other side—Mr. Nunneley, Mr. Herapath, and Dr. Letheby—say that, no matter how contaminated or how mixed with impurities, they would have been able to ascertain the presence of strychnia in the stomach, if strychnia ever had been there. I own I should have more confidence in the testimony of those witnesses if their partiality and partisanship had not been so much marked as they are. I should have more confidence in the testimony of Mr. Herapath if he had not been constrained to admit to me a fact which had come to my knowledge, that he has again and again asserted that this case was a case of poisoning by strychnia, but that Dr. Taylor had not known how to find it out—he admits that that is a statement he has again and again made.

Mr. Serjeant Shee—It was in the newspapers, he said.

Attorney-General

Mr. Attorney-General—He did not venture to say that the newspaper statement in any way differed from the fact which he admitted in this Court. I have seen that gentleman not merely contenting himself with coming forward, when called upon for the purposes of justice, to state that which he knew as a matter of science or of experiment, but I have seen him mixing himself up as a thoroughgoing partisan in this case, advising my learned friend, suggesting question upon question, and that in behalf of a man whom he has again and again asserted he believed to be a poisoner by strychnia. I do not say that alters the fact; but I do say that it induces one to look at the credit of those witnesses with a very great amount of suspicion. I reverence a man who, from a sense of justice and a love of truth—from those high considerations which form the noblest elements in the character of man—comes forward in favour of a man against whom the world may run in a torrent of prejudice and aversion, and who stands and states what he believes to be the truth; but I abhor the traffic in testimony to which I regret to say men of science sometimes permit themselves to condescend. I ask you therefore to look at the statements of those witnesses with dispassionate consideration before you attach implicit credit to them. But let me assume that all they say is true, that it is the fact that they in their experiments have succeeded in discovering strychnia when mixed with other impurities, and contaminated, no matter by what cause—they say that no extent of putrefaction, no amount of decomposition, will alter the character of that vegetable matter, so that it may not be detected if it is in the human stomach. Be it so. But then must it always be found in every case where death has ensued? Professor Taylor says no; and he says it would be a most dangerous and mischievous proposition to assert that that must necessarily be so—that it would enable many a guilty man to escape who, by administering the smallest quantity whereby life can be affected and destroyed, might by that means prevent the possibility of the detection of the poison in the stomach of the individual. All the witnesses seem to agree in this, or, at all events, the great bulk of them agree in this, that the poison acts after it has been absorbed into the system; taken up by the absorbents of the stomach, it is carried into the blood; passing by means of the circulation through the tissues, it is deposited there; at some stage or other of its progress it affects the nervous system; and as soon as the nerves affecting the muscles of motion become influenced by its baneful power, then come on those muscular spasms and convulsions of which we have heard so much. If the minimum dose be given, and that operates by absorption, it is perfectly clear—and must be clear—that the whole must be taken up by absorbents and pass into the blood, and that none therefore will be found in the stomach. Nay, a further proposition is also clear. If it is necessary that it should be first passed by means of the circulation into the solid tissues of the body, before it acts upon the nervous system, it will cease to be found in the blood. Again, a portion of it, if in excess, will be eliminated in the kidneys, and pass off in watery excretion. You do not know, therefore, in what part of the human body to put your hand upon it. But this is undoubtedly the fact, if there has been an excess over the quantity necessary to destroy the life of a particular individual, then, as soon as the absorbents have taken up the necessary quantity, the nervous system will at once be affected and life destroyed; you will find the excess in the stomach, if you adopt the proper means of seeking for it. Now, what did these gentlemen do? They gave never less than a grain—often as much as two grains; and yet we now know that a quarter of a grain is enough to destroy a small animal like a rabbit, and that no man could venture to hope for life who took half a grain or three-quarters of a grain of it. Therefore in the cases of their experiments, and experiments made, allow me to say, for the purpose of this case, after those parties had been retained—I use the word “retained,” for it is the appropriate word; no parties can be more thoroughgoing partisans than scientific men who have once taken up a case—after they have been retained for this case, and desire that their experiments should have a certain result, they take good care to have doses large enough to leave a small portion in the stomach. But be this as it may, I have only now to deal with the experiments of Professor Taylor and Dr. Rees; they may, for aught I know, be a pair of bunglers; it is no part of my business to uphold them if their professional reputation will not do it; but they tell us that they tried its effects upon four animals of the same species with fully adequate doses. Where they administered two grains they reproduced the poison in abundance; where they administered one grain they found a small indication of it; and when they administered half a grain to two rabbits they found no traces of the poison at all. It may well be that that may result, as Mr. Herapath says, from Professor Taylor not knowing the right way of going about it. It may be, if Mr. Herapath had had the stomach under his more scientific manipulation, he would have produced the strychnia. It is enough for my purpose when, as I show, the man who did in this case experiment upon the stomach of Mr. Cook, in two cases out of four when he had given a smaller dose to rabbits failed to reproduce the poison. What is the conclusion I draw from it? Why, that although I cannot have the advantage here which the positive detection of the strychnia would have afforded if it had been found, there is no room for the opposite conclusion—the converse of the proposition for which my learned friend and his witnesses contend—that the fact of the strychnia not having been reproduced or discovered affords negative conclusive proof that the death was not produced by strychnia. I have no positive proof on the one hand, but on the other hand my learned friend is in the same predicament—he cannot say that he has negative proof conclusive of the fact of this death not having taken place by strychnia.

Attorney-General

But now is there no other evidence in the case? Do I ask you to come to the conclusion that he administered strychnia to his friend, simply because the symptoms of that friend’s death are reconcilable with no known form of disease which the most enlarged experience or knowledge can supply? No, gentlemen, it does not rest there. Not because those symptoms are precisely those which show themselves in cases of poisoning by strychnia. No, the case does not rest there; I wish it did. But, alas! it does not. I must now draw your serious attention to a part of the case which has not been met, and has not been grappled with. My learned friend said that he would contest the ground with the prosecution foot by foot. Alas! we are upon that ground upon which, as it were, is centred the crisis of this momentous question; and, alas! my learned friend has not grappled with it for an instant. We have here a death of which the dread manifestations bore upon their face the character of strychnia poisoning. Was the prisoner at the bar possessed of that poison? Did he obtain it upon the eve of the death into which we are inquiring? These are matters of fearful moment. They are matters with which it behoved my learned friend, indeed, to have grappled with all the vigour of which he was capable and with all the means that his case afforded. But I grieve to say that this part of the case is left untouched as regards the defence. Did the prisoner at the bar obtain possession of strychnia on the Monday late? Did he get it again upon the Tuesday morning? The fact of his having got it on the Monday night rests, it is true, upon the evidence of an individual whose statement, as I said to you at the outset, and as I repeat now, requires at your hands the most careful and anxious attention before you adopt it easily. Newton tells us that on that night when Mr. Palmer came back from London, he came to him and obtained from him three grains of the poison of which, supposing it had been administered, the symptoms and effect both in life and death would have been precisely the same as those which have been described in Cook’s case. Is Newton speaking the truth, or is he not? It is open to observation—I said so from the beginning, and my learned friend has done no more than reiterate the warning I gave you—it is, I say, open to serious observation, that Newton never made that statement until the day previous to the commencement of the trial. He has explained to you the reasons which induced his silence. His employer had been for a long time upon unpleasant terms with Palmer. The young man, who knew him, however, and who appears to have been more or less upon familiar terms with him, did not hesitate to give him the three grains of strychnia. Palmer was a medical man, and strychnia is often used by medical men. There was nothing extraordinary therefore at that time of night, when chemists’ shops might be expected to be shut up, that, upon Mr. Palmer’s coming to him for three grains of strychnia, he gave them to him, and probably thought little more about it. But when afterwards the question of the mode by which this man’s life had been taken away became rife in Rugeley, and suspicions arose of strychnia, and Roberts came forward and said that upon the Tuesday morning Mr. Palmer had bought strychnia off him, and this young man was called to confirm the circumstance of Mr. Palmer having been at the shop, he heard that this question of strychnia was involved, and it began to occur to him that it might seriously implicate him with his employer, might cast even the shadow of doubt and suspicion upon himself, if he came forward and voluntarily stated that he had supplied Palmer with the poison the night before. Then he locked this secret in his breast. But when the eve of the trial came, and he knew that he was to be subjected to examination here, he felt a sort of oppression at having this secret locked up in his breast, and he voluntarily came forward and made the statement which he has repeated here. It is for you to say whether you are satisfied with that explanation. It is unquestionably true that it detracts from the otherwise perfect credibility which would attach to his statement. But then, gentlemen, on the other hand, there is a consideration which I cannot fail to press upon you. What possible conceivable motive can this young man have, except a sense of truth, for coming forward to make this statement? My learned friend, with justice and with propriety, has asked for your most attentive consideration to the question of motives involved in this case. Before you can charge a man with having taken away the life of another by aforethought and deliberate malice, it does become important to see whether there were motives that could operate upon him to do so foul a deed. That does not apply to this witness, for, even though the hideous crime of taking life by poison is not perhaps so horrible to contemplate as the notion of judicial murder effected by false witness against a man’s neighbour, can you suppose that this young man can have the remotest shadow of a motive for coming forward upon this occasion, under the solemn sanction of an oath, in a Court of justice like this, to take away the life—for, alas! if you believe his evidence, it must take away the life—of the prisoner at the bar? If you believe that on the night of Monday, for no other conceivable or assignable purpose except the deed of darkness which was to be done that night upon the person of Mr. Cook, the prisoner at the bar went to Newton and obtained from him the fatal and deadly instrument whereby life was to be destroyed, it is impossible that you can come to any other conclusion than that the prisoner is guilty, and that your verdict must pronounce him so.

What says my learned friend? He says that Newton does not speak the truth—first, because he did not come forward till the last minute; and, secondly, because he lays the time of his communication with the prisoner, and affording him the strychnia, at nine o’clock, and the prisoner was not in Rugeley until ten.

Attorney-General

Now, in the first place, I must remark upon this that the young man does not say nine o’clock. He says, “about nine,” and every one knows how easy it is to make a mistake as to time with reference to half an hour or three-quarters of an hour, or even an hour, when your attention is not till perhaps a week or a fortnight or three weeks afterwards called to a particular circumstance. A man may be sitting working in his study or his surgery, and have no clock before him, and have nothing particular to impress upon his mind the precise hour of time at which a certain transaction took place; and to say afterwards, when he comes to speak to it under the sanction of an oath, that because he makes some slight difference as to the time therefore he must be taken to be speaking untruly, appears to my mind a most untenable and unsatisfactory argument. It is due to my learned friend to say that he has sought to meet this part of the case. He has produced to-day a witness of whom all I can say is this, that I implore you, for the sake of justice, not to allow the man who stands at the bar to be prejudiced by the evidence of that most discreditable and unworthy witness who has been called to-day on his behalf. I say that not to one word which that man has uttered will you attach the slightest value. Before I come to him, however, I must make this remark—that, if Newton could not be mistaken as to the time, how is it possible that the prisoner could be mistaken as to the time? Yet he clearly was. He told Dr. Bamford (and we have it from Dr. Bamford himself) the next morning that he visited Cook between nine and ten o’clock the night before. And now there comes a witness who tells us that it was a quarter past ten that he had with him alighted from the car that brought them from Stafford, and he could not till after that have gone to visit Cook. My learned friend reminds me that it was ten minutes past ten. Then he had to go to Cook. One of the maid-servants, Lavinia Barnes, like every other witness, may be mistaken; but she asserts that on that night, the Monday evening, Mr. Palmer came to the hotel, and went to see Mr. Cook before nine o’clock. It is clear that she must have been mistaken. It is clear that he could not have been there much before ten. I am told that they get over in about an hour. There was a carriage waiting for him, and he would come over to Rugeley with as much rapidity as he could, which would not be before ten o’clock. As to the fact of the witness pretending that he saw him alight from the car, and that he went to Cook and stayed a certain time so as to cover the whole evening, I ask you not to believe a single word, and I do so because in my heart I do not believe a single word of it.

Attorney-General

It is a remarkable fact, which has not escaped your attention, I dare say, that my learned friend did not open a single word of the testimony that he was going to call. He said he hoped and thought he should be able to cover that whole period at Rugeley. Did he tell us what the witness was going to prove, that Jeremiah Smith had been upstairs in the inn, and seen by some of the people at the inn going upstairs to Cook’s room? No, he did not. If he had we should have had plenty of time between that and this to ascertain how the fact stood, and I believe have been ready to meet Mr. Jeremiah Smith with contradictory evidence. It was well to follow that course when you were uncertain what your witness would say, or what your case might be, because you might be met and confronted by contradictory evidence. I need not say that any evidence would have been better than the evidence of that miserable man whom we saw exhibited to-day. Such a spectacle I never saw in my recollection in a Court of justice. He calls himself a member of the legal profession. I blush for it to number such a man upon its roll. There was not one that heard him to-day that was not satisfied that that man came here to tell a false tale. There cannot be a man who is not convinced that he has been mixed up in many a villainy which, if not perpetrated, had been attempted to be perpetrated in that quarter, and he comes now to save, if he can, the life of his companion and his friend—the son of the woman with whom he has had that intimacy which he sought to-day in vain to disguise. I say, when you look at the whole of those circumstances, balance the evidence on both sides, and look at the question of whether Newton can by any possibility have any motive for coming here to give evidence which must be fatal to a man who, if that evidence be not true, he must believe to be an innocent man—when you see that he can have no motive for such a purpose—to suppose that he would do so without a motive is to suppose human nature in its worst and most repulsive form to be one hundred times more wicked and perverse than experience ever yet has found it—I cannot but submit to you that you ought to believe that evidence, and I cannot but submit to you deferentially, but at the same time firmly and emphatically, that if you do believe that evidence it is conclusive of the case.

Attorney-General

But it does not stop there. On the morrow of that day we have the clearest and most unquestioned evidence that Mr. Palmer bought more strychnia. He went to Mr. Hawkins’ shop, and there purchased six grains more, and the circumstances attending that purchase are peculiar in the extreme. He comes to the shop, and he gives an order for prussic acid, and, having got his prussic acid, he gives an order for strychnia. Before the strychnia is put up, Newton, the same man, comes into the shop. What does the prisoner do? He immediately takes Newton by the arm, and says he has something particular to say to him, and takes him to the door. What was it he had to say to him? Was it anything particular? Was it anything of the slightest importance? Was it anything that might not have been said in the presence of Roberts, who was putting up the strychnia? Certainly not. It was to ask a most unimportant question, namely, when young Mr. Salt was going to the farm which he had taken at Sudbury. In that question there could be nothing which might not be put in the presence of anybody, no matter who. He takes him to the door, and then puts this question. At the same time a man of the name of Brassington, a cooper, comes up, and Brassington had something to say to Newton upon business, having some bills against Newton’s employer, Mr. Salt. Upon that Brassington and Newton get into conversation at some little distance from the door. The prisoner immediately takes advantage of those two being in conversation, and he goes back and completes the purchase of the strychnia. But while the strychnia was being made up he stands in the doorway with his back to the shop, and his face to the street, where he would have a perfect command of the persons of Newton and Brassington, and where, if Newton had quitted Brassington to return into the shop, the prisoner would at once have been in a position to take every possible step for not letting Newton go in, by renewing the conversation with him until the strychnia had been taken away. I ask you, having this description of the transaction given to you by Roberts, in the first place, confirmed by Newton afterwards, can you entertain any reasonable doubt that the prisoner was desirous of not letting Newton know that he was purchasing strychnia there? You can very well understand that he would be desirous of keeping that fact from Newton, because, if it be true that Newton had let him have three grains the night before, Newton’s attention would be naturally immediately aroused by so strange a circumstance, because nine grains of strychnia were enough—three grains were enough—to kill three, perhaps six people. What could a man want with nine grains of strychnia in so short a space of time? It would attract Newton’s attention, and it did; for Newton immediately went and asked what he wanted there, his attention being, in the first place, directed, not so much to what he had come to purchase as to the singularity of his coming there at all, because for two years past the prisoner never bought an article of any sort or kind at the shop of Mr. Hawkins. His former assistant, Mr. Thirlby, had two years before set up in business as a chemist, and from that time, naturally enough, Mr. Palmer had withdrawn his custom from Mr. Hawkins, and had given it to his former assistant, Mr. Thirlby. It was a remarkable thing that he should go to Mr. Hawkins’ shop upon this occasion to get strychnia. Why did he not go to Mr. Thirlby? I will tell you. Mr. Thirlby would have known perfectly well that he could have no legitimate use for such an article. Mr. Thirlby had taken his practice. Mr. Palmer was no longer in practice, except in the circle of his relatives and his own immediate friends; and if he had gone to Mr. Thirlby for strychnia, Mr. Thirlby would have said, naturally enough, “What are you going to do with it?” and therefore he did not go to Mr. Thirlby. Why he should have gone to purchase strychnia (I agree with my learned friend it is one of the mysteries of this case) on two successive days I cannot tell; but that he did is undeniably true; and if on the one hand some little difficulty arises, on the other hand is not the difficulty infinitely greater in accounting for the motive that induced him to go and get this strychnia either on the Monday night or upon the Tuesday? If it was for the purpose of professional use for the benefit of some patient for whom small doses of strychnia might have been advantageous, where is the patient, and why is he not produced? My learned friend did not even advert to the question of the second purchase of strychnia in the whole of his powerful observations. He passes it over in mysterious but significant silence. Account for that six grains of strychnia, the purchase of which is an undoubted and indisputable fact. Throw doubt if you please—I blame you not for it—upon the story of the purchase on the previous night; but on the Tuesday it is unquestionably true that six grains of strychnia were purchased. Purchased for whom? purchased for what? If for any patient, who is that patient? Produce him. If for any other purpose, at least let us have it explained. Has there been the slightest shadow of an attempt at explanation? Alas! I grieve to say, none at all. Something was said, in the outset of this case, about some dogs that had been troublesome in the paddocks where the mares and foals were, but that proved to have been in September. If there had been any recurrence of such a thing, where are the grooms who had the care and charge of those mares and foals, and why are they not here to state the fact? If this poison was used for the purpose of destroying dogs, some one must have assisted Mr. Palmer in the attempts which he resorted to for that purpose. Where are those persons? Why are they not called? But, not only are they not called, they are not even named. My learned friend does not venture to breathe even a suggestion of anything of the kind. I ask, gentlemen, what conclusion can we draw from these things, except one, and one alone? Death, with all the symptoms of strychnia—death in all the convulsive agonies and throes which that fatal poison produces in the frame of man—death with all the appearances which follow upon death, and mark how that death has come to pass—all these things, in the minds of those who can discuss and consider them with calm, dispassionate attention, who do not mix themselves up as advocates, partisans, or witnesses, leading to but one conclusion; and then the fact of the strychnia being purchased by the prisoner on the morning of the fatal day, if not obtained by him, as was sworn to, on the night before, is left wholly uncovered and wholly unmet, without the shadow of a defence. Alas! gentlemen, is it possible that we can come to any other than one painful and dread conclusion? I protest I can suggest to you none.

It is said by my learned friend, “Is it likely that Mr. Palmer should have purchased strychnia at Rugeley when he might have got it in London?” I admit the fact. I feel the force of the observation. If he could have shown that he had done anything with this strychnia—if he could have shown any legitimate purpose to which it was intended to be applied, and to which it was afterwards applied—then I should say that it would be an argument worthy of your gravest and most attentive consideration. But just see on the one hand how the fact may stand. He was in town on the Monday, and he had the opportunity, as my learned friend suggests, of purchasing strychnia there. But on the other hand he had much to do; he had his train to catch by a certain time; he had in the meanwhile his pecuniary embarrassments to solve if he could. Time may have flown too fast for him to be able to go and obtain this strychnia; and even if he had had time, I do not believe it is sold in chemists’ shops in London without the name of the party purchasing it as a voucher. If he had given his name, of course, it would have been still worse if he had bought strychnia in London than if he had bought it in Rugeley. I do not say that it is not worthy of your consideration, that it is not a difficulty in the case; but I say there is plain, distinct, positive proof of the purchase of strychnia, and under circumstances which cannot fail to lead to the conclusion that he shrank from the observation of Newton at the time he was buying it; and there is a total absence of all proof, nay, of all suggestion, of any legitimate purpose to which that fatal poison was to be, or was in point of fact, afterwards actually applied.

Attorney-General

Then, gentlemen, it is said that there are two other circumstances in the case which make strongly in favour of the prisoner, and negative the presumption of a guilty intention, and those are, the fact that he called in two medical men. Here, again, I admit that this is a matter to which all due consideration ought to be given. He called in Dr. Bamford on the Saturday, and he wrote to Mr. Jones on the Sunday, and desired his presence to attend his sick friend. It is perfectly true that he did. It is perfectly true, as medical men, they would be likely to know the symptoms of poisoning by strychnia, and they would be likely to suspect that death had ensued from it; and yet even here it strikes me that there is a singular inconsistency in the defence. See the strange contradiction in which the witnesses called for the defence involve my learned friend who puts them forward, if all those symptoms were not the symptoms of strychnia. If they are referable to all the multiform variety of disease to which those witnesses have spoken, why, then, should Mr. Palmer have the credit of having selected medical men who would be likely to know from those symptoms that they were symptoms of strychnia? I pass that by; it is not a matter of very much importance. It is true that he did have those two medical men. He called in old Dr. Bamford. I speak of that gentleman in terms of perfect respect; but I think I do him no injustice if I say that the vigour of his intellect and his power of observation have been impaired, as all human powers are liable to be impaired, by the advancing hand of time. I do not think he was a person likely to make very shrewd observations upon any symptoms exhibited to him, either immediately after death or upon the subsequent examination of the body; and the best proof of that is to be found in that which he has actually done and written with reference to this case. As regards Mr. Jones the same observation does not apply. He was a young man in the full possession of his intellect and the professional knowledge which he had acquired. Nevertheless, about him the observations I am about to address to you I think are not unworthy of notice. The prisoner at the bar selected his men well, for what has come to pass shows how wisely he judged of what was likely to take place. This death occurred in the presence of Mr. Jones, with all those fearful symptoms which you have heard described; yet Mr. Jones suspected nothing; and if Mr. Stevens had not exhibited that sagacity and firmness which he did manifest in the after parts of this transaction, and if Mr. Palmer had succeeded in getting that body hastily introduced into the strong oak coffin that he had had made for it, the body would have been consigned to the grave, and nobody would have been aught the wiser. The presence of Mr. Jones, and the presence of Dr. Bamford, would not have led to detection, would not have frustrated the designs with which I shall presently contend before you this death was brought about.

Attorney-General

On the other hand, gentlemen, the matter is perhaps capable of this aspect, it may have been that a man whose cunning was equal to his boldness may have thought it the best course to adopt to avoid suspicion—to prevent its possibility—was to take care that medical men should be called in and should be present at the time of death; nor is there anything to show that the prisoner had the most distant notion that Mr. Jones intended to sleep in this room that night; and if he had not the man would have been found dead in the morning; he would have gone through his mortal struggle and intense and fearful agony; he would have died there alone and unbefriended; he would have been found dead the next morning; the old man would have said it was apoplexy, and the young man would have put it down to epilepsy. If any one had whispered a suspicion, the same argument would have been used which has been used now with so much power and force by my learned friend. Can you imagine that the man would have called in medical men to be the witnesses of a death which he himself was bringing about? But, gentlemen, as I have already said, if you believe the evidence of Newton, and if you believe that that same night pills were administered to Cook by Palmer—and that, I believe, will be your opinion and conclusion, notwithstanding that wretched witness to-day said he heard Cook say to Palmer that he had taken the pills already, because he, Palmer, was late, whereas the woman witness, Mills, told you that the next morning Cook reminded her that his agony was such as she never could have witnessed in any human being, and he told her he ascribed it to the pills which Palmer had given him at half-past ten—if you believe that statement, and that the pills were given him by Palmer at half-past ten, and you find that Palmer a few short minutes, perhaps, before went to Newton, and got the poison from Newton, and you find upon that night the first paroxysms, though not so violent and not fatal, yet similar and analogous in character to those which preceded the death, can you doubt on the first night the poison was administered to him? though with what purpose I know not; I can only speculate—whether it was to bring about by some minute dose convulsions which should not have the complete character of tetanus, but would bear a resemblance to natural convulsions which should justify his saying afterwards that the man had had a fit, and so prepare those who should hear of it on the next night, when the death was to ensue, for the belief that it was merely a succession of the same description of fit that he had had before. That is one solution. The other may be that he attempted on that Monday night to carry out his fell purpose to its full extent, but that the poison proved inefficacious. We hear that an adulterated form, or, at all events, an inferior form, called bruchsia, is occasionally sold, and it may have been that it failed in its effect. It is only one-tenth of the strength. We know that he purchased poison on Tuesday, and that on that night Cook died with all the symptoms of poison; and why he purchased that poison is not in any way accounted for. The symptoms were the same on the Tuesday night in character, though greater in degree, than they were on the Monday; and there is found a witness who comes forward and says, with no earthly motive to tell so foul a falsehood, “I found the character of the convulsions the two succeeding nights the same.” I cannot resist the conclusion to which my reasoning impels me that poison was administered upon both nights, though it failed upon the first. I can only speculate as to what was the cause of failure. There are the facts, and you must deal with them.

Attorney-General

Alas! gentlemen, it does not stop there; there is another part of this case which, though it may not have been the means of death, is of the highest value in estimating the credit that is to be given to the point which we advance of this death having been produced by strychnia—I allude to the antimony. We have had medical men and analytical chemists who have told us a great deal about strychnia, but not one has said a word about antimony. On the Wednesday night, at Shrewsbury, when Cook drinks his glass of brandy and water he fancies there is something in it that burns his throat; he exclaims at the time, and he is seized immediately with vomiting, which lasts for several hours. On that same night Mrs. Brookes sees the prisoner shaking something in a glass, evidently dissolving something in fluid. A man has been called here to-day, the boon companion, the chosen associate, the racing confederate of the prisoner, to come and tell you that all that story is untrue—that the woman never came down stairs—that Palmer never carried out the brandy and water—that there is not a word of truth in it—and the fact is that Palmer and Cook only came in at twelve o’clock, when Myatt, forsooth, had been waiting for two hours. Mrs. Brookes’ story is, according to him, an entire invention from beginning to end; he swears that he must have seen if anything had been mixed with the brandy and water, and nothing was mixed with it. I think you will be more disposed to believe Mrs. Brookes than to believe any of those persons who were the associates of the prisoner, and who had been partners in his transactions. It is a remarkable fact that Cook drinks that brandy and water and a few minutes after is taken ill. There were other persons taken ill at Shrewsbury; it may be within the verge of possibility—although ten minutes after he had drunk the brandy and water he was taken with vomiting—that it was the same form of complaint to which other persons were subject in Shrewsbury; I do not want to press it one jot further than it ought to go, but it is a remarkable circumstance that the man is seen with a glass and with a fluid which he is mixing up and holding to the light, and shortly afterwards his friend who is drinking with him or drinking at the same table at which he is drinking, who, if Myatt be telling the truth, was somewhat in liquor, and ought not to have been pressed to take brandy and water—Palmer says that he will not take anything until Cook has exhausted his portion—and then immediately afterwards the man is taken ill. These are circumstances not altogether incapable of producing certain impressions upon one which it is difficult to shake off.

Attorney-General

Nevertheless, I pass on from that, and go to Rugeley. From the Saturday morning until the Monday morning I find this poor man suffering under the influence of constant vomiting; that was not the Shrewsbury disease—he had got rid of it; he was well on Thursday and he was well on Friday. On Saturday morning, after dining at Mr. Palmer’s, he is taken ill; and then we have the fact of Mr. Palmer administering his food, administering his remedies, sending over toast and water, sending over broth; and, no sooner has this poor man taken those things than he is seized with incessant vomitings of the most painful description. What about the broth? The broth is said to-day by Smith to have been sent from the Albion. Yes; and where does it find its way to? It is taken, not to the Talbot Arms, but to the prisoner’s kitchen. After that, instead of leaving it, as one would suppose he would leave it, to the woman to take to the Talbot Arms, he takes it himself from the fire, puts it into the cup, gives it to her, it is taken over, and the man vomits immediately after he has drunk it. On the Sunday the same thing is done again; the broth is brought from the same quarter, and attended with the same results. Of that broth the woman takes a couple of spoonfuls, and she is sick for several hours. She vomits twenty times, and is unable to leave her bed for some hours. My learned friend said she did not state that before the coroner. Nevertheless, it is sworn to by the other servant that the woman was ill. I can quite understand why the woman did not state it before the coroner. It shows the honesty of the woman’s character. It did not occur to her to connect the sickness from which she suffered with the taking of the broth; but afterwards, when the story of the antimony came up, and Cook’s sickness was connected with it, then she remembered perfectly well, after the evidence had been given, how she, having taken the broth, immediately became ill. The fact is not one capable of dispute, although it may be that she did not mention it before the coroner. And I think you will regard it as a very important and significant fact in the case, that, on the Monday when Palmer is absent, Cook is better. On the Tuesday he vomits again, though not in the same degree. But after death—now comes the important fact—antimony is found in the tissues of that man’s body, and his blood shows the presence of it; the blood shows distinctly that it must have been taken recently, within the last eight-and-forty hours previous to his death. How came it there? The small quantity that is found does not form the slightest criterion of the quantity that had been administered to him. Part of it, you know, would be thrown up by the act of vomiting which it provokes; part of it would pass away in other forms, but none would be there unless he had taken some. When did he take it? If you find that he is suffering from vomiting for days before his death—that a person is constantly administering things to him, and after taking those things he vomits—when the prisoner sends him over a basin of broth he vomits, and when the servant takes a couple of spoonfuls she is reduced to the same condition—what other conclusion can you come to, knowing that antimony is an irritant that will produce vomiting and retching in the human system, than that the antimony must have been administered to him by some one? By whom? Who but the prisoner at the bar could have done it? My learned friend says Cook might have taken antimony at some former time—that he might have taken James’ powder for a cold. There is not the slightest trace of evidence from the beginning to the end of the case that he ever had a cold, or ever took James’ powder over the whole period we are now ranging. Moreover, as I have even now said, it was in his blood, it must have been administered eight-and-forty hours before death; who could have administered it but the prisoner at the bar? I ask you to form your own judgment upon that matter, but I cannot resist the conclusion, it is irresistible. If so, for what purpose was it administered; it is difficult to say with anything like precision; one can only speculate upon it. It may have been, however, to produce the appearance of natural disease, to account for the calling in of medical men, and to account for the catastrophe which was already in preparation; but it may also have had another and a different object, and it is this—if we are right as to the motives which impelled the prisoner at the bar to commit this great crime, it was, at all events in part, that he might possess himself of the money which Cook would have to realise upon the settling day at Tattersall’s on Monday. If Cook went there himself the scheme was frustrated; Mr. Cook intended to go there himself, and if he had done so the prisoner’s designs would have failed of accomplishment. To make him ill at Shrewsbury—to get him in consequence to go to Rugeley, instead of going to London or anywhere else—to make him ill again and keep him ill at Rugeley might be part of a cleverly contrived and organised scheme. It might have been with one or other of those motives, it might have been with both, that the antimony was administered, and so sickness produced, but that the sickness was produced and that the antimony was afterwards found in the body are incapable of dispute. Put them together and you have cause and effect; and if you are satisfied that antimony was introduced into that poor man’s body for the purpose of producing vomiting and sickness, then, I say there is no one who could have given it to him within that recent period but the prisoner at the bar. Neither the doctor at Shrewsbury nor the doctor at Rugeley ever gave him one fraction of antimony which had those natural effects which as a cause it was certain to produce; then it will be for you to ask yourselves whether it can have been with any other than a fell purpose and design—with a view of paving the way for the more important act which was afterwards to follow.

My learned friend has dealt with this case of antimony in no other way than that which I have suggested, namely, casting out some loose, floating, imaginary notion that at some period or other, for which no precise date is given, he may have taken James’ powder for the purpose of getting rid of a cold. Alas! gentlemen, I feel that so idle an objection cannot stand between you and the conclusion which, I submit to you, arises from the fact that this antimony was given to Mr. Cook with a wicked design. If it was, just see the important influence which it exercises upon the other question. If antimony was found—if antimony can have been given with no legitimate object, and if it can only have been given by the prisoner at the bar—how great does it render the probability that to carry out the purpose, whatever it may be, that he had in his mind, he gave him this strychnia, of which the deadly effects and consequences have been but too plainly made manifest.

Attorney-General

Then, gentlemen, let us take the conduct of the prisoner into consideration in the after stages of the case, and also in one remarkable particular—in an incident that took place on the day of the death, on the evening of the preparation of the pills—and in his conduct taken in all its circumstances I fear you will find but too cogent proofs of his guilt. I begin with the Tuesday, the day of the death. Mr. Cook had had what every one will admit to have been a most severe fit on the night before. Dr. Bamford comes upon the Tuesday, but not a word is said to him about it. He comes, and the prisoner is solicitous that he shall not see Cook; and twice in the course of that morning, when old Mr. Bamford is desirous of coming up to see the man, the prisoner said, “He is tranquil and dozing; I wish him not to be disturbed.” That may have been innocent, but on the other hand, if Dr. Bamford had come at that time when the fit was fresh in Cook’s mind, the probability is great that Cook would have told him what had happened the night before. Cook does not see him till seven o’clock, when Mr. Jones had arrived. One would have expected that, having been invited to come by the prisoner, the first thing Mr. Palmer would have done would have been to mention how he found him the night before. He talks of nothing but about the bilious symptoms—bilious at Shrewsbury, bilious to Dr. Bamford, and bilious to Mr. Jones; and thus he is represented throughout by the prisoner at the bar, yet all this time the medical men agree in saying that there was not a bilious symptom about him from beginning to end; no feverish skin, no loaded tongue, and none of the concomitants of a bilious condition. The moment Mr. Jones sees him, considering he had heard that this man was suffering under a bilious affection, he says, “That is not the tongue of a bilious patient.” The only answer he gets is, “You should have seen it before.” When? When the man saw him at Shrewsbury, or when Dr. Bamford saw him, they both found his tongue perfectly clean; the irritation in the bowels was not the result of natural action, but of the antimony; and not one single word does he say to Mr. Jones of the fit that had taken place the night before. It is a remarkable circumstance, when the three medical men are consulting at the bedside, the patient says, “I will have no more pills—no more medicine to-night,” intimating that his sufferings of the night before he ascribed to the pills which he had taken. There is no observation made by Mr. Palmer as to what had been the nature of the man’s attack the night before, he having been called up in the dead of the night. They go into an adjoining room to consult as to the best thing to be done. The man had declared his aversion to taking any pills or medicine; and Mr. Palmer immediately proposes that he shall take the same pills that he took the night before. He says to Mr. Jones, “Do not tell him the contents, because he has a strong objection to them.” It is arranged to have the pills made up; he does not wait to have the pills sent by Dr. Bamford, though it was early in the evening, but he accompanies Dr. Bamford down to his surgery. I cannot for the life of me understand why Dr. Bamford should have made up those pills at all. The prisoner had a surgery of his own close by, and he could have made up the pills in two minutes, he knew perfectly well their contents, instead of which he goes down with Dr. Bamford to his surgery. One would have supposed it would have been quite enough, as he was the person who every night administered the pills to Cook, if Dr. Bamford put the pills in a box and handed them over to Mr. Palmer, who knew what was to be done with them, instead of which Mr. Palmer asks Dr. Bamford to write the direction. He does write the direction, and then Mr. Palmer walks away with the pills. An interval occurs of an hour or two, during which time he had abundant opportunity of going home to his surgery and doing what he pleased in the way of substituting other pills. He comes back, and before he gives the pills he takes care to call the attention of Mr. Jones, who was present, to the remarkable handwriting of the old gentleman, Dr. Bamford, as being worthy of attention in a man of his advanced age. What necessity was there for all that? Was not it, think you, part of a scheme, that in case there should afterwards be any question as to the cause of this man’s death, or the possibility of his having had poison administered to him, he should be able to say to Mr. Jones, “Why, you know they were Dr. Bamford’s pills. You were present at the bedside of the deceased, you saw that I administered nothing except pills, and you must be clear they were Dr. Bamford’s pills. Did not I show you the address written, and call your attention to the excellence of the handwriting?” Who knows but all that prevented the possibility of suspicion being excited and presenting itself to the mind of Mr. Jones.

Attorney-General

Now, any one of those circumstances in itself would not be such as I could venture to submit to you as conclusive of the prisoner’s guilt, but I ask your attention to a series of things following one upon the other, which, at the same time, are of a most remarkable character, and, taken as a whole, lead but to one conclusion. The death having taken place (I am passing over for a moment other circumstances which have no reference to the immediate cause of death, I shall come back to them in another part of the case), we find the father-in-law comes down to Rugeley upon the Friday. Let us see what the conduct of the prisoner is then. The father-in-law applies to him for information on the subject of his stepson’s affairs. I pass that over, because that, too, will come under a different head; but having done so, and it appearing from the representation which the father-in-law made that the man had died in comparative poverty, something is said about his being buried. “Well,” says Mr. Stevens, “rich or poor, poor fellow, he must be buried.” Mr. Palmer immediately says, “If that is all, I will bury him myself.” “No,” says the stepfather, and the brother interposes. Mr. Stevens says, “No, I am his stepfather and his executor, and it is my place to bury him.” Well, there is nothing in all that. Palmer may have said, with regard to his friend, that he would see the last respect paid to his memory. But there is this remarkable thing, when the stepfather says that nobody shall bury him but himself, and makes the observation that perhaps it will be inconvenient to the people at the inn to have him lying there for two or three days, because he intended to have him buried in town, so that the poor man might lie in the same grave with his mother—immediately after this Palmer says, “There will be no harm in that, he can stay as long as you like; but the body ought to be put in a coffin immediately.” After that Mr. Stevens gets into conversation with Dr. Bamford about his son-in-law, and while they are in conversation Mr. Palmer slips away, goes out into the town, and comes back in about half an hour, when Mr. Stevens asks him for the name of some undertaker in order that he may go and give the undertaker directions about the funeral, and he finds to his surprise that Mr. Palmer has gone out, and has himself, without any authority, ordered a shell and a strong oak coffin in order that the body may be immediately put away. This, again, is a circumstance not unworthy of consideration. Why should he interfere and meddle in a matter which did not concern him, and which it was the business and province of another man to attend to, except this, that he had made up his mind that that body should be consigned to its last resting-place and removed from the sight of man with as much rapidity as circumstances would permit of? You have heard what took place in the course of conversation upon the subject of the betting book. I pass that by for the present.

I now come to Saturday, when, returning from London, Mr. Stevens and Mr. Palmer met in the railway train, and at the different stations when the train stopped had conversations with one another; and it appeared at that time Mr. Stevens had fully made up his mind to have the body examined—there were circumstances which had engendered suspicion in his mind; he had seen the attitude of the corpse; he had seen the clenched hands; and, being a man of sagacity and shrewdness, upon putting things together, there was a lurking suspicion in his mind that he could not overcome, and he was determined that he would be satisfied, and he made known his intention of having the body examined before it was consigned to the grave. It is due to Mr. Palmer to say that he did not flinch from the trying ordeal of Mr. Stevens’ scrutinising glance when he mentioned the subject of post-mortem examination; he makes no objection to the post-mortem examination; he is anxious to know who shall perform it, but Mr. Stevens will not inform him of the fact. It is to take place, and it is appointed to take place on the Monday. On the Sunday we have that remarkable conversation to which Newton speaks, and which has been in the possession of the Crown (it is not, like the other part of his evidence, brought forward at the last moment) and in the possession of my learned friend. It is true he did not state it before the coroner, but the explanation is extremely easy. Before the coroner, Roberts was the man who came forward to prove the purchase of strychnia, and vouched Newton being there. Newton was immediately fetched, and his deposition will be found immediately following that of Roberts; not for the purpose of giving a general statement, but for the purpose of corroborating Roberts, which he does. Hence it came to pass, in answering only the questions which were put to him by the coroner, nothing was said upon the subject of that Sunday’s conversation, but it was given immediately afterwards to the Crown.

Attorney-General

I think you will not believe that Newton comes forward for the purpose of making a false representation as to this conversation. What was the conversation? He is sent for by Mr. Palmer to his house, and he is treated with a glass of brandy and water, and when he has a glass of brandy and water they get into general conversation, and then, I think, the prisoner says, “How much strychnia would you give if you wanted to kill a dog?” “Why, I should give from half a grain to a grain.” “Would you expect to find any appearances in the stomach after death?” “No inflammation or erosion, no appearances.” Upon which a sort of half-uttered ejaculation comes from the prisoner. “That is all right,” and a sort of action of the hands. Was that entirely an invention? Was nothing said about a dog? Was nothing said about strychnia? Now, it may have proceeded from two causes, if you believe the conversation. It may have been that the prisoner was in a state of great anxiety when he found the post-mortem examination was to take place, and he was anxious to know whether the views of another medical man confirmed his own with regard to the appearances in the body after death, where death had been occasioned by strychnia. It may have been that he meditated some trickery, some jugglery, that involved the real destruction of a dog, which may have given rise to those questions which were suggested on the part of the defence to one of the witnesses who were called; it may have been that something was in contemplation to destroy or attempt to destroy a dog, to account for the purchase of the strychnia, which he knew was likely to be brought up in evidence against him, and which it would be a difficult matter to explain. Whether any such attempt was afterwards made I know not; I imagined that we were going to have some evidence to that effect, from the questions that were asked, but no such evidence has been afforded—not the slightest as to what purpose this quantity of strychnia has been applied. It has not been found upon the prisoner’s premises. What has become of it? I cannot solve precisely the secret of that conversation. Like many other matters in this case, it remains a mystery; but this I know, I can look at it in no aspect in which it does not reflect light upon the guilt in which this transaction is involved; if you can solve the difficulty, for heaven’s sake do, but I can suggest to you no solution. From that man Newton, then, he got his strychnia on the Monday night, and for that man he sends on the Sunday. With that man he holds a conversation—was it with the view of leading Newton to believe that it was for the purpose of killing a dog he had got it? These are speculations and surmises, into which I do not deem it necessary further to go. It will be for you to say whether you can entertain any doubt upon all these facts, when they are before you, that this death was occasioned by strychnia, and that that strychnia was administered by the prisoner, either from what he obtained upon the Monday night, or from that which, beyond the possibility of question, he obtained upon the Tuesday, for which he has failed to account, and for which, indeed, he has not attempted to account.

But, then, my learned friend says that the man had no motive to take away the life of his friend, and it is right we should see how that matter stands. Gentlemen, if, indeed, I have satisfied you, beyond the reach of reasonable doubt, by the evidence I have adduced, and by the failure on the part of the evidence for the defence to neutralise its effect, that the death here was occasioned by strychnia—that the strychnia could have been administered by no one, and, in fact, was administered by no one, save Mr. Palmer—the question of motive becomes a matter of secondary consideration. It is often difficult to dive into the breasts of men, to understand the motives that have been working there, and by those motives to account for their actions. Omniscience alone can exercise that faculty and that power; and therefore, where acts are proved against a man beyond the reach of reasonable doubt, it is not because we may not be able to exercise a sufficiently scrutinising power to ascertain the motives that we are to doubt the facts, the existence of which is brought beyond the reach of reasonable doubt; but nevertheless it is always an important element in a case, and it is, above all, an important element in a case upon which any reasonable doubt can by possibility rest, to see whether there was an adequate motive to lead to the perpetration of the act which is charged. On the other hand, gentlemen, we must not be too precise in weighing the question of adequacy of motive; that which, to the good, would appear of no influence, however remote or minute, in inducing them to commit crime, oftentimes, with the wicked, is quite sufficient to impel them into crime, and it may have been so here.

Attorney-General

But let us see, before I make any further observations upon that point, how the matter stands upon the proof which is before us. I told you that Mr. Palmer was a man in circumstances of the direst embarrassment, with ruin actually staring him in the face, and that nothing could avert that ruin save pecuniary means at once obtained for his purpose. The proof which I have offered to you has fully come up to the proposition with which I started. The fact has been proved beyond the possibility of doubt. It appears that in the month of November, 1855, Mr. Palmer was in this position. He owed upon bills, all of which were forged, the sum of £19,000; he had bills to the amount of £12,500 standing in the hands of Mr. Pratt; he had bills to the amount of £6500 standing in the hands of Mr. Wright; and he had a bill for £2000 in the hands of Mr. Padwick. Although it is true that £1000 upon that account had been paid off to Mr. Pratt, yet the bills still remained for the full amount in Mr. Pratt’s hands. Although £1000 had been paid to Mr. Padwick, he held a warrant of attorney and a bill of sale upon the stud for the remaining £1000. All those bills, without exception, were forgeries. A correspondence took place between Mr. Pratt and himself with regard to the £13,000 policy upon his brother’s death, through which he hoped to liquidate Mr. Pratt’s demand; he had been disappointed of that money, and upon the office declining to pay the money, as early as the middle of October, Mr. Pratt gave him to understand, in the most distinct and positive terms, that the bills must be met. Bills for £4000 were due, or were coming due, at the end of that month—one upon the 25th for £2000, and another upon the 27th for £2000. Bills already renewed were coming due from month to month, and there was £5500 which it was necessary immediately to provide for. Mr. Pratt gave him notice that he could give him no longer delay, inasmuch as the office had resolved to dispute this policy. It was no longer an existing valid security, and consequently Mr. Pratt could not be a party to representing to his clients, with whose money those bills had been discounted, that it was in any respect a valid security, therefore the bills must be met.

Attorney-General

The matter was coming to a crisis; the bills must be paid at maturity; he sends him up three small sums, first a sum of £300, and then two sums of £250 each, making the sum of £800. Of that sum £200 was to come off other bills to fall due in January, leaving only £600 applicable to the principal. He is told at once that he must do a great deal more; he is told, late in October, that unless he does a great deal more writs will be issued against his mother and against himself, which would at once bring the matter to a termination by showing that those bills were forgeries. He entreats that time shall be given; he obtains this concession from Mr. Pratt, that the writs shall not be served until a given day, and he in the interval must make further payments on account of the principal bill due. That being the state of things upon the 13th, Mr. Pratt writes and presses him for further payment. On that day “Polestar” won. Cook was, as you have heard, in an ecstasy of delight, feeling that his difficulties were, at all events for a time, removed; that he should now get through the winter and live happily till the next racing season. He little thought what was about to take place. If this accusation is well founded, the mare winning, and his being entitled to a large sum of money, was the most fatal thing that could have befallen him. Alas! how great is the shortsightedness of mortal man! When we have the highest cause of joy and exultation, often while the sunshine of our prosperity warms and gladdens our heart for a moment, there is lurking beneath our feet a fatal abyss, into which we are about to fall. This poor man, if this charge be true, might have been living now, had it not been that upon that fatal day his mare won, and he became entitled to a large sum of money, which afforded temptation to his murderer.

Attorney-General

Now, it becomes perfectly clear that at this moment matters were approaching an immediate crisis. What was Mr. Palmer to do? He had no source to which to turn for money. It is clear that he could not go to his mother. I presume that source had long since been exhausted, or he would not have forged her name. What was he to do if he could not get money to satisfy Pratt’s demand? You know, although a moneylender is considerate and indulgent enough as long as he is certain of his payment, and gets his heavy usurious interest paid down on the nail, if he once becomes doubtful of the security and uncertain of payment, you may as well ask mercy of a rabid tiger, or you may as well ask pity of stones, as hope to find bowels of compassion in him. Pratt gave him fair warning that the money must be paid, or something must be paid by way of instalment on the principal, and to keep the interest down. Where was Mr. Palmer to get money from? My learned friend says Cook was his best friend, and that Cook was the man he was to look to; and that as long as he kept Cook alive he had a friend in need to whom he could resort for assistance. In what way? Was Cook to give acceptances to Pratt? Is anybody weak enough to suppose that Pratt would have taken Cook’s acceptances to keep those bills alive, unless there was a part payment of the principal and interest? It is quite clear that he would not. When even for the sum of £500 he was asked to take Cook’s security, he refused to do so, unless there was the collateral security of an assignment of his horses. Cook had assigned to him all the property he possessed. All that Cook had in the world was his winnings upon that day’s race at Shrewsbury, and what little money he may have obtained by his winnings at the races at Worcester. If you believe the witness Myatt, those winnings were exhausted, and therefore this man had nothing except his winnings at the Shrewsbury races; and you are asked by my learned friend to believe that it would have been of use to Palmer to keep this man alive. The reverse is proved by the evidence. With Pratt his personal security would have been unavailing. Pratt tells you that he would not take anything from him unless it was the real security of an assignment of his horses or other property. Just see the interest which Palmer had in securing all Cook’s effects. My learned friend says they were mixed up together in transactions in which they had a joint and common interest—they were confederates upon the turf and had joint bets together. Yes; but one man putting another on does not mean that when A puts B on and says we are likely to make a good thing, and we will share it, that B is to pay A’s losings if they do not win. They might be confederates on the turf, but that did not make Cook responsible for Palmer’s liabilities. Does any one suppose that Cook intended to find the means to enable Palmer to meet Pratt’s insatiable demands, to stave off the difficulties in that quarter? Was Cook to deprive himself of his winnings, and leave himself without money, for the benefit of his friend? That is the proposition, for the whole of which my learned friend must contend before you before he can establish anything like a case to show that if Cook had lived it would have been better for Palmer than that he should die. My learned friend says there is proof that they were mixed up closely together to be found in this, that Cook writes to his agent, Fisher, and says to Fisher, writing on the Friday after he had dined with Palmer, “There is a matter which is of importance to Palmer and to me, that £500 should be paid to Mr. Pratt to-morrow; £300 has been sent down to-night, and I request you will be so good as to pay Mr. Pratt £200 to-morrow on my account, and charge it to me.” My learned friend thought that that transaction would be favourable to his client, and he put it prominently forward. To my mind he could have adduced nothing more fatal. The explanation of it is to me as clear as the sun at noonday. Cook had brought with him some £600 or £700; at least at Shrewsbury he was seen by Fisher with a roll of notes amounting to some £700 or £800. On the same evening the parties came to Rugeley, when he had not had time to spend the money. He speaks of a £500 transaction, in which he and Palmer have a joint interest. There is only that one transaction with Pratt in which they had a common interest, that was the £500 raised by the assignment of “Polestar,” and a bill, of which we say Cook never got the proceeds; and he says, writing on that night to Fisher, “£300 have been sent up to-night, and I will be obliged to you to pay the other £200 to make up the whole.” No £300 were ever sent up that night. Mr. Pratt has given an account of the whole transaction. £300 were to be sent that night; by whom were they to be sent? Can you doubt? Where is all Cook’s money gone? I can quite understand that he handed over £300 to Palmer to send up to Pratt, and directed Fisher to pay another £200. What followed in respect to the joint transaction? What was the joint transaction? they never had but one, and that was for £500. What was it? Why, it was the money which had been got by the assignment of “Polestar” and “Sirius”; “Polestar” had just won at Shrewsbury—it was natural that the man should desire to redeem his mare; moreover, the bill was coming due; he had the cash in his pocket, and he knew that he was going to receive money at Tattersall’s, which he never did; and he says, “£300 will be sent up to-night.” It is the only matter in which they have a common interest, not only as to the £500, but in any respect; Pratt had no other dealing whatever with them jointly or with Cook, if we except the bill for £500—what does it show? It shows that £300 had been sent for the purpose—he sends up £300, but how is it applied? Pause for a moment; the £300 is not sent up, Palmer keeps it in his pocket; what is done with the other £200? Is it carried to the account of the matter in which they had joint interest with Pratt? No such thing; it goes as part of the payment made by Palmer to Pratt on account of the bills which Pratt then held—it never went to any matter of joint interest—it is an idle and false pretence to say that Cook was in any way responsible to Pratt; it may have been the intention of Palmer when Cook should be no more to represent him as so, but there is no foundation in reality and in fact for the statement. I say the transaction of the £500, so far from helping the prisoner’s case, shows conclusively that the £200 advanced by Fisher, and the £300 to be sent up that night to satisfy this bill for £500, and the assignment to release “Polestar” and “Sirius,” was £500 more taken from this young man and appropriated by the prisoner to his own use.

Attorney-General

But the matter does not rest there—would it did. I come now to the transaction of the Monday, and I find £1020 of Cook’s money applied to the prisoner’s use. He goes up to London; he had ascertained by some means or other the amount that Cook was entitled to receive on the Monday—possibly Cook had told him; Fisher was Cook’s agent, and the probability is that Cook desired the prisoner to hand an account of his bets which he had won to Fisher, who would go and settle with the parties at Tattersall’s; Fisher would have to pay himself back the £200; we know that he intended his accounts should pass through Fisher, because he asked Fisher to advance the £200 upon the credit of it; but it is suggested that under the guidance of Palmer he now meditated a fraud, and that he intended to pass his account through Mr. Herring, in order to avoid paying Fisher the £200 for a time. Is it charitable to Mr. Cook to ascribe to him a fraud of this description, which, so far as we know, he was not in the habit of doing? I ask you this question as reasonable men, supposing he had disposed of his ready money, and we find none left—that he had given the prisoner £300 to send up, you cannot suppose that this man who had nothing of his fortune left, who sees ruin staring him in the face—he was not a ruined man as long as he had this money, but having parted with this money he was a ruined man—you cannot suppose that he intended to deprive himself of the whole of the money that he had won, to leave himself destitute and naked for the coming winter; the thing is out of the question—besides, if the prisoner’s representation is true which he made to Mr. Cheshire, that he had got the genuine cheque of this man for very nearly the amount, through his agents, Messrs. Wetherby, of the stakes at Shrewsbury, you are asked to believe on the one hand that he had given him his ready money, and on the other hand that he had given him a cheque to receive of Messrs. Wetherby, and that he had given him £1020, which constituted absolutely the whole that the poor man possessed—you are asked to believe that he hands it over to the prisoner to go and dispose of as he pleases—that is my learned friend’s proposition, but I do not think you will adopt it.

Attorney-General

Then, if that be not so, what does the prisoner do? He goes to London, but does not go to Fisher, who was the agent of Cook, who would, in the first place, have paid himself back the £200, and, in the second place, would not have paid the sums which he received except upon Cook’s authority and instruction, but would have sent the money to Cook, or have paid it upon Cook’s written direction as to what was to be done with it. He takes the account, therefore, to a comparative stranger, who never had acted for Mr. Cook before, feeling that that stranger would have no hesitation or repugnance in paying the money according to the direction of the man from whom he had the direction to receive it, supposing that both emanated from Mr. Cook, the person interested in the money. Accordingly he says to Mr. Herring, “Here is a list of bets which Cook will be entitled to be paid at Tattersall’s; they are so much, you dispose of it in this way; pay yourself £200”; it being the fact that Mr. Cook and the prisoner had before raised the sum, I think, of £600; £200 had been raised by Mr. Cook on his acceptance, and £400 had been raised on the acceptance of the prisoner. Mr. Cook’s portion had been paid off, but that of the prisoner remained unpaid. Palmer says to Mr. Herring, “Pay yourself £200, then go to Pratt’s and pay him £450; then go to Padwick and pay him £350.” Now, it is perfectly clear that the £450 was a debt due from Palmer to Pratt, and it is untrue that Cook had anything to do with it. The debt of £350 to Padwick was for some bet, and although it is not proved, I have reason to believe that the minor part of it was a debt of Cook’s, but the larger part was a debt of Palmer’s upon a matter in which they stood in together. There is evidence that Mr. Palmer treated the debt due to Padwick as his. He says, “I will pay you my bet of £350 at such a time.” I am giving him credit for what I believe was the fact, that a part of it was Cook’s. Why was Cook’s debt paid then? There was a warrant of attorney in the hands of Mr. Padwick, and Mr. Padwick was getting impatient for his £1000, and if this bet had not been paid to Mr. Padwick, Mr. Padwick would have resented the non-payment of the debt of honour which he had no means of enforcing, and would have come down upon Mr. Palmer, no doubt, at a very early period in respect of the £1000 due upon the bill dishonoured twelve months before. Exactly that came to pass—in consequence of Mr. Herring not receiving the whole of the money, he was not able to pay Mr. Padwick, and the result was that Mr. Padwick put the process of the law in motion against the prisoner on that bill, and brought an action against his mother. The bill for £1000 was the bill of Mr. Palmer, upon which Mr. Cook was not primarily liable. I say here was a distinct interest which the prisoner had to appropriate this money to himself, because it was the means for the moment, and the only means he could resort to, of staving off the evil hour which was rapidly approaching. The degree of difficulty in which he was placed must not be measured simply by the amount of his pecuniary liabilities. It was not merely that he had these large bills upon which at any moment process might be issued, but he had made his mother answerable for those bills, and the moment the first of them was put in motion in the Courts the fraud and forgery would come to light, and he would be exposed not merely to the consequences of his inability to pay his debts, but to the consequences of the law which he had violated. The former might have been got rid of in the Insolvent Court or the Bankruptcy Court, but the crime of forgery could not have been got rid of; for that he would have to answer at the bar of a Court of criminal justice, and would have incurred the penalty of transportation, or of penal servitude in an aggravated form. But there is a further sum besides the £1000; he appropriated a further sum of £350, which was to be got from Messrs. Wetherby. It is said that he got a genuine cheque from Cook to entitle him to receive that money, but it is not for a moment suggested what induced Cook to give it to him. Was it a genuine cheque? That matter might have been solved by its production. It is not produced; yet it is quite clear that it was returned to the prisoner’s hands by Messrs. Wetherby when they could not get the money. It is quite clear that it was of great importance to him to get the money, because there was £100 to be paid to Pratt, which must be paid in order to stave off the evil day upon the bill of £1500, which was due on the 9th of November. Where is that cheque? If it had been produced we could have seen whether it was a genuine cheque or not. It is not forthcoming. What are the circumstances under which he presents that cheque to Mr. Cheshire? He goes to Mr. Cheshire upon the Tuesday, and, having shown the cheque to Mr. Cheshire, he asks Mr. Cheshire to be so good as to fill up the body of it. I suppose he saw some manifestation of surprise in Mr. Cheshire, and he said, “Cook, poor fellow, is ill, and I am apprehensive if I fill up the body of the cheque Wetherbys will know my handwriting.” Why should not they know his handwriting? What objection was there, if the cheque was genuine, and if the transaction was an honest one, to Messrs. Wetherby knowing that the handwriting was his? Does not it pretty plainly indicate that there was some fraud going on which he was afraid might be detected? Why, in heaven’s name, should he send for Cheshire? He had to send for Cheshire from the post office when Cheshire was busily engaged in the business of the evening, at seven o’clock in the evening. Just about that same period, a little before or a little after, as the case may be, he had to meet Dr. Bamford and Mr. Jones in consultation as to Cook’s case. Mr. Jones was his intimate friend—the trusty friend that came over that afternoon. If poor Cook intended to give him the cheque, and was at the same time so ill that he could not write, why not have said to Mr. Jones, “Jones, I do not want to bother Cook to fill up this cheque, fill it up in my favour for £350, and we will get Cook to sign it?” Why should he send to the post office to get Cheshire down to his house, alleging at the time that he was apprehensive that if he filled it up his own handwriting might be known. Does not that transaction bear fraud upon the face of it? On the other hand, it may be a genuine cheque; but, I ask again, where is it? Between the time when these matters were called in question and the time when Mr. Palmer was finally arrested, not upon the criminal but upon the civil process, which came down unluckily for him before the coroner’s inquest, which secured his bodily presence to answer not only the pecuniary matters but these charges, in the interval he had undisturbed possession of his own papers. From the moment when that freedom of action and possession ceased, we have traced the possession of the papers; and it is clear that at the time those papers were taken possession of that cheque was not amongst them; it is clear that the prisoner, who had possession of it, must have dealt with it in some manner. What has become of it? Why is it not produced? Can you help drawing the inference from its non-production that there is something in the transaction that will not bear the light? It is clear that he intended to get possession of the £350, which ought to have been given to Cook, upon false pretences. He had not a farthing himself, for when he went to Shrewsbury races he borrowed £25. As I have shown, a person made a bet for him upon the races, and, having won £200, pressed him for the debt, but could not get another shilling from him. I show you that he comes back to Rugeley, and is from that moment in the possession of money. Where could he have got that money? It is clear that he must have got it from Cook, who had not any left himself; it is clear that he had all that money to the extent of £350, probably much more, and besides that he gets £1020 as the proceeds of the betting at Tattersall’s, and he attempts to get, but does not get, £375, which ought to have been paid into Messrs. Wetherbys’ hands. This was the whole of the worldly possessions, the whole sum of the wealth of this poor young man.

Attorney-General

But he is not satisfied with that—it is clear that he meditated another fraud of a different description. On the Friday, almost as soon as the breath is out of the man’s body, he intimates that he has a claim upon him for £3000 or £4000 in respect of bills which had his (Palmer’s) name or acceptance upon them, but which, in fact, had been negotiated for Cook’s purposes. He tells the same story to the father-in-law, but it is as clear as the sun at noonday that he endeavoured to fabricate an instrument to give a show of colour to those representations. He goes on the Thursday or the Friday to Mr. Cheshire, and brings to him a document which he asks him to attest, that document bearing the signature “J. P. Cook.” The man having left the body, and living only in the spirit eight-and-forty hours before that signature had been brought to be attested, who can fail to see that here was some great fraud and design meditated? What was the document? It was a document which purported to be an acknowledgment from Cook that certain large bills which had been negotiated were for Cook’s benefit, and for Cook’s benefit alone, and that he (Palmer) had had no part of the proceeds. Now, there are no such bills in existence. We have exhausted the bills pretty well, I think, and none such are proved to exist; but if there be any such bills in existence, who would know it better than the prisoner at the bar? He could have no difficulty in satisfying you of the fact, and of removing this great stumbling-block in the way of his defence; but he produces this document; and on the same day, the day that followed this poor man’s death, he writes to Pratt, and says, “Mind, I must have ‘Polestar’ if it can be arranged.” What was this scheme? Having got every shilling of the man’s money, his purpose was to secure the little property that remained in “Polestar,” the value of which he may perhaps to himself have considerably exaggerated. The mare had just won, and she might be supposed to be worth more than she had been, or he had in view speculating at other races to bring about results of benefit to himself. Further, he may have intended to pay out of Cook’s estate some of those bills, under the pretence that Cook had had the money for them. For all these purposes, from the beginning to the end, it was necessary that Cook should be put on one side. Then with this document in his hand he goes to Cheshire, and he asks Cheshire to attest the signature of a man who was then dead. If Cheshire had had the weakness and wickedness to comply he would have had him in his power; and the next thing would have been that he would have brought him trembling and reluctant into the witness-box of some Court of justice to swear to the fact that he had seen the dead man put his signature to that piece of paper. But it may be suggested that, after all, the document was a genuine one, and that the signature was not a forgery. Then produce it and we can judge. Here, again, I point out, and there is no escape from it, that the papers of the prisoner were in his possession till the time of his arrest, and they have been taken care of since then, and are here one and all, either to be answered for or produced in his presence, or they have been handed over to his brother. Who would not fail to notice that this paper has never been found or asked for? Who can doubt that that paper brought to Cheshire remained in the possession of the prisoner? Who can doubt that it is either destroyed or is purposely withheld? Under these circumstances who can doubt that in it is to be found proof of some meditated act—of some vast design of a fraudulent and flagitious character, for the full completion of which the death of Cook was a necessary thing?

Now, gentlemen, I have gone through that part of the case which relates to the motives of the prisoner, and it will be for you to say whether you are satisfied that this was a death by strychnia—that the prisoner was in possession of strychnia—that he had access to the dead man’s bedside, and that he administered pills to him at a period short enough to be capable of being connected with the catastrophe that afterwards happened; and it will be for you to say whether you do not find that the state of things with reference to pecuniary matters to which I have been just alluding is sufficient to account for the act which is ascribed to the prisoner.

Attorney-General

But there is another part of his conduct as throwing light upon this matter to which I cannot fail to refer. What has become of Cook’s betting book? What has been the conduct and the language of the prisoner with reference to it? On the night when Cook died, ere the breath had hardly passed from that poor man’s body, the prisoner at the bar was rummaging his pockets and searching under his pillow. That may have been for a perfectly legitimate purpose. But let us see what takes place. He calls to Mr. Jones, and he tells Mr. Jones that it is his duty, as the nearest friend of the dead man, to take possession of his effects, and Mr. Jones does take possession of his watch, and afterwards, at the suggestion of the prisoner, of his rings. At the same time Mr. Jones asks for the betting book. My learned friend endeavoured to explain away this most awkward part of the case by saying, “There were other persons who had access to the place. The undertaker came there with his men, the women came to lay out the dead body, and the servants were there; any one of those might have stolen the book.” But all this is met by the fact that, on that same night, before the women had had anything to do in the room—before they came to lay out the corpse—before anybody made their appearance—that very night, when Mr. Jones is seeking to gather up the effects of the dead man, he asks for the book. What is the answer? “Oh,” says Palmer, adopting the language which he afterwards repeated, “the betting book will be of no use to any one.” Does anybody doubt in his own mind where that betting book had gone to? The father-in-law came down on the Friday, and he begins to discourse about the affair, and he is not satisfied with the answers he gets. The day passes away. He says to Mr. Jones, “Be so good as to collect my son-in-law’s betting book and papers and bring them away.” Mr. Jones goes upstairs; he is immediately followed by the prisoner—up they go, but there is no betting book to be found. Down comes Mr. Jones, and says to Mr. Stevens, “We cannot find the betting book.” “Not find the betting book! surely you must be mistaken”; and, turning round, he says, “Why, Mr. Palmer, how is this?” Upon which Mr. Palmer says, “Oh, the betting book is of no use.” “No use! I am the best judge of that. I think it will be of a good deal of use.” The observation is again repeated, “It is of no use.” Mr. Stevens said, “Why?” “Because a dead man’s bets are void, and because he received the money himself upon the course at Shrewsbury.” A dead man’s bets are void! Yes, that is true; they are void, but not when they have been received in his lifetime. Who received the dead man’s bets? The prisoner at the bar. Who appropriated the proceeds of the dead man’s bets? The prisoner at the bar. Who was answerable for them? The prisoner at the bar. Who had an interest in concealing the fact that he had received them? He had. What was the best mode of doing it? The destruction of the betting book. What was the best mode of calming the determination of the man who was the executor of the dead man, when he wanted to know what he was entitled to receive and what he had received, and to see the record of his pecuniary transactions? Why, to tell him that the record, even if found, would be of no use, for a dead man was not entitled to any bets, he having died before they were received—yet at that very moment he had received the proceeds of the bets which he was representing as void, and was applying the proceeds to his own purpose. Does not that throw light upon the real nature of the transaction? What possible motive could he have for representing that the bets were void, having himself received them, unless he knew that he had received them fraudulently and wrongfully? See what would have taken place if the truth had come out. Mr. Stevens, if he had seen that book, would have seen that his stepson was entitled to receive £1020. He would have inquired who was his agent, to see whether by any possibility those debts could be realised; he would have learned what everybody knew, at least that portion of the turfites with whom Cook was in the habit of communicating, that Fisher was his agent. Fisher would have told him, “I ought to have received the money to repay myself £200, but Mr. Herring received the money.” He would have gone to Mr. Herring, and he would have found that every shilling of the money found its way into the prisoner’s pocket, and was appropriated for his own purposes. How was all this to be done? By the removal of Cook, and then by the destruction of the only record which could have afforded to his representative, who was entitled to stand in his place and realise his pecuniary rights, the information of the money having been received by a wrongdoer, by a man who had no right to it. Gentlemen, I submit these things to your consideration, but I submit them to you as leading, unhappily, but to one conclusion, and that the conclusion of the prisoner’s guilt.

Attorney-General

But, gentlemen, the matter does not even rest here; there is more of the prisoner’s conduct yet to be commented upon, on which I must say a few words before I conclude. Mr. Stevens determined upon having a post-mortem examination. Let us watch the conduct of the prisoner in respect of that most important part of the history of this case. Dr. Harland comes over to perform this most important office; the prisoner is on the watch to see who comes; he meets him as he alights at the inn; he accompanies him to Dr. Bamford’s; they get into conversation about this death, and Dr. Harland says, naturally enough, speaking to a brother medical man who he supposed had been attendant upon the patient, “What is this case? I hear there is a suspicion of poisoning.” “Oh, no,” says Palmer, “not at all; no suspicion of poisoning; the man had two epileptic fits upon the Monday and Tuesday, and you will find old disease, both of the head and of the heart.” Well, there was no disease found of the head or of the heart, unless that very wise gentleman, whom I should have liked to have asked a few questions of to-day, was right about his story of angina pectoris, which I doubt was ever accompanied by tetanic symptoms in this world, or that any other man in the universe would declare that it was. “You will find disease of the head and the heart.” They opened him, and found neither. He said, “He had two epileptic fits on the Monday and Tuesday.” That very same man the day before had gone to Dr. Bamford, and asked Dr. Bamford to fill up the certificate, and Dr. Bamford said naturally enough, “He is your patient, not mine; I have only attended him at your request.” “No, I would rather you did.” He gets Dr. Bamford to fill in “apoplexy”; the next day he tells Dr. Harland that it is a case of epilepsy. This is not an ordinary individual, but a medical man, possessing full knowledge and information with regard to medical matters. However, the post-mortem examination took place; before they go to it there is some conversation with Newton which I will not again more particularly refer to; it is not satisfactory, nor does it show the state of mind in which you would expect to find a man whose friend had just died, from the way in which he speaks of the examination about to take place. Let us come to the examination itself. The stomach and its contents are, as we understood, removed; there is some story about his having pushed against the parties who were performing the examination; I think that is carrying the matter too far; it may have been an accident, and we will look at it in that light; at last the stomach, we say without its contents, and a portion of the intestines are put into a jar, and the jar is fastened with a parchment covering doubled over it; it is tied and sealed, and then it is placed upon a table while the post-mortem examination, with reference to other parts of the body, is made. Dr. Harland has this done; when Dr. Harland turns round he finds the jar removed; he immediately makes an outcry, and then at the other end of a long room, and at a door which was not the proper entrance, but a door which led into a different apartment, which apartment led into the passage, the prisoner was found with the jar in his hand, and when Dr. Harland exclaims, he says, “I thought it would have been more convenient to you when you were going out.” That might have been his motive, though it was an awkward circumstance that the jar containing the stomach should be in the hands of the man against whom there rested a suspicion of having deprived the deceased of life by unfair means. That is not all; two slits were found in the parchment cover when it was tied and sealed up; who could have made them except the prisoner? What did he do it for? There, again, we are lost in conjecture, but the only conclusion at which we can arrive is against the honesty of the purpose and the integrity of the transaction; whether it may have been for the purpose of introducing something which might be capable of neutralising the poison, I cannot tell you; all I know is the fact, and it is a fact of very significant importance in the consideration of the case.

It does not end there—we find that he is restless and uneasy as to what is going to be done with the jar, and objects to its being taken away; he remonstrates with Dr. Bamford at letting it go away, as if Dr. Bamford had any interest in the matter, and as if any one would suspect Dr. Bamford of having had any hand in the taking off of this poor man. The jar is taken away, and then that occurred which must have made a painful impression upon all who heard it in this Court—then comes the story of his going to the post boy, and asking him to upset the carriage which was conveying those who had possession of the jar to Stafford or London, for the purpose of its contents being analysed. My learned friend sought to give a comparatively innocent complexion to this transaction; he says that this bribe of £10 to upset the carriage arose simply out of resentment against the officious stepfather who had dared to interfere in this matter—to insist upon a searching investigation—he had been guilty, my learned friend says, in return for the civility, courtesy, and kindness with which he had been treated by the prisoner, of “prying, meddling, insolent curiosity.” A man who had seen his poor stepson, to whom he was tenderly attached, lying dead under circumstances which raised in his mind a suspicion—and I think I am fully justified, at all events, whatever may be the result of this inquiry, in saying that the very inquiry we are now upon—the gravity and importance of it—at least fully justify Mr. Stevens in the suspicions which he entertained for having insisted upon the inquiry, and that ought to have protected him against the suggestion of “insolent curiosity.” It was known that Mr. Stevens insisted upon inquiry—was it a reasonable motive operating upon this man’s mind that it should occasion such a sense of resentment and anger that he should desire the destruction or mutilation of this man, and offer £10 to the post boy to upset him upon the road? I believe the other to have been the true version—if you upset him you may break the jar, and then the contents never could be found, and there would be no danger of strychnia being discovered.

Attorney-General

But it does not stop even there; the inquiry takes place, and the post-mortem examination having been made, a coroner’s inquest is insisted upon and becomes inevitable, and then we have the prisoner seeking to tamper with the administration of a most important office; sending presents to the coroner at the time the inquest was sitting; presents, unquestionably, of game and things of that description, and if the evidence does not very much mislead us a present of money also. For what purpose was all that done? We find him, with uneasy restlessness, obtaining through Cheshire information of what is taking place between the professional man who was employed to analyse the contents of the stomach and the attorney at Rugeley who was instructed on behalf of Mr. Stevens; is that the conduct of innocence or of guilt? Why should he be desirous of knowing whether strychnia, above all other things, should be found in the intestines of the deceased? Let me call your attention to the letter which he writes to the coroner—“I am sorry to tell you that I am still confined to my bed; I do not think it was mentioned at the inquest yesterday that Cook was taken ill on Sunday and on Monday night in the same way that he was on Tuesday night when he died; the chambermaid at the Crown Hotel can prove this; I believe a man of the name of Fisher is coming down to prove that he received some money at Shrewsbury; now, here he can only pay Smith £10 out of £41 he owed him. “Does he tell what had become of the rest of the money that the man had at Shrewsbury? “Had you not better call Smith,” that is, Mr. Jeremiah Smith whom we saw here to-day, “to prove this?” What a witness Jeremiah Smith would have been in the hands of the coroner, Mr. Ward, the friendly coroner of Staffordshire! And, again, “Whatever Professor Taylor may say to-morrow, he wrote from London last Tuesday night to Gardner to say, we (that is, Dr. Taylor and Dr. Rees) have this day finished our analysis, and find no traces of either strychnia, prussic acid, or opium; what can beat this from a man like Taylor, if he says what he has already said of Dr. Harland’s evidence? Mind you, I know it, I saw in black and white what Taylor said to Gardner; but this is strictly private and confidential, but it is true. As regards his betting book, I know nothing of it, and it is of no good to any one”; the repetition of the same story. “I hope the verdict to-morrow will be that he died of natural causes, and thus end it”; but the verdict was not so, and it did not end it; and it is for you to say whether upon a review of the whole of this evidence you can come to any other conclusion than that of the prisoner’s guilt. Look at his restless anxiety; it may possibly, it is true, be compatible with innocence, but I think on the other hand it must be admitted that it bears strongly the aspect of guilt; if it stood alone, I would not ask you upon that to come to a conclusion adverse to the prisoner, but it is one of a series of things, small perhaps, each individually in themselves, but, taken as a whole, as I submit to you, leading irresistibly to the conclusion of the guilt of this man.

Attorney-General

Now, gentlemen, the whole case is before you. It will be for you to determine it. You have, on the one hand, a man overwhelmed by a pressure almost unparalleled and unexampled of pecuniary liabilities which he is utterly unable to meet involving the penalties of the law, which must bring disaster and ruin upon him. His only mode of averting those consequences is by obtaining money; and, under those circumstances, with a bad man, a small amount, if that amount will meet the exigencies of the moment and avert the impending catastrophe and ruin, will operate with immense power. Then you find that he has access to the bedside of the man whose death we are now inquiring into; that he has the means of administering poison to him, and you find that, within eight-and-forty hours, he has twice acquired possession of the very poison, the traces of which are found in the death, and after the death; and then you have the death itself in its terrible and revolting circumstances, all of which are characteristic only of death by that poison and of no other. You have then the fact that, to the uttermost of his ability, he realises the purpose for which it is suggested to you the death was accomplished. You have all those facts, and the undoubted and undisputed fact, that a subsidiary poison was also used, of which traces have been found in the man’s body, although no traces may have been found, for the reasons and from the causes I have suggested, of the principal poison, whose possession by the prisoner we have traced, and whose presence we show in the symptoms which accompanied the death of the deceased. It is for you to take all those circumstances into your consideration.

Gentlemen, you have, indeed, had introduced into this case one other element which I own I think would have been better omitted. You have had from my learned friend the unusual, and I think I may say unprecedented, assurance of his conviction of his client’s innocence.

Mr. Serjeant Shee—Not unprecedented.

Attorney-General

The Attorney-General—I can only say I think it would have been better if my learned friend had abstained from so strange a declaration. What would he think of me if, imitating his example, I at this moment stated to you, upon my “honour,” as he did, what is my internal conviction from a conscientious consideration of this case. The best reproof which I can administer to my learned friend is to abstain from imitating so dangerous an example. My learned friend in that address, of which we all admired the power and ability, also adopted a course sometimes resorted to by advocates, but which I cannot help thinking is more or less an insult to a jury, the endeavouring to intimidate them by the fear of their own consciences and the fear of the country’s opinion from discharging firmly and honestly the great and solemn duty which you have to perform upon this occasion. My learned friend told you if your verdict should be “Guilty,” one day or other the innocence of the prisoner would be made manifest, and you would never cease to repent the verdict you had given. If my learned friend was sincere in that—and I know he was—there is no man in whom the spirit of truth and honour is more keenly alive—he said what he believed; but all I can say in answer is, that it shows how when a man enters with a bias upon his mind upon the consideration of a subject he is led into error; and when my learned friend said that he had entered upon this case with an unbiassed and an unprejudiced mind, who could have failed to feel that never in anything could he have been more deceived than in thinking that? For who that has to give his best energies to a defence upon such a charge as this would not shrink in his own mind from the conclusion that he was to advocate the cause of one whom he believed to have been guilty of the foulest of all imaginable crimes? I say, therefore, I think my learned friend had better have abstained from making any observations which involved the assurance of his own conviction. I say, further, I think he ought, in justice and in consideration for you, to have abstained from reminding you or telling you that the voice of the country would not sanction the verdict which you were about to give. I say nothing of the inconsistency which is involved in such a statement, coming from one who but a short hour before had complained in eloquent terms of the universal torrent of passion and prejudice by which he said his client was oppressed and borne down. Why, gentlemen, in answer to my learned friend, I have only to say, pay no regard to the voice of the country, whether it be for condemnation or acquittal; pay no regard to anything but the internal voice of your own consciences, and the sense of that duty to God and man which you are to discharge upon this occasion. Seek no reward, except the comforting assurance when you shall look back to the events of this day, that you have discharged to the best of your ability and to the uttermost of your power the duty that it was yours to perform. If, upon a review of this whole case, comparing the evidence upon the one side and upon the other, and weighing it in the even scales of justice, you can come to a conclusion of the prisoner’s innocence, or even entertain that fair and reasonable amount of doubt of which the accused is entitled to the benefit, in God’s name acquit him. But if, on the other hand, all the facts and all the evidence lead your minds, with satisfaction to yourselves, to the conclusion of the prisoner’s guilt, then, but then only, I ask for a verdict of guilty at your hands. For the protection of the good, and for the repression of the wicked, I ask for that verdict, by which alone, as it seems to me, the safety of society can be secured, and the demands, the imperious demands, of public justice can alone be satisfied.

The Court then adjourned.