Part 23

Mr. ADOLPHUS said, that the case to which it was now his duty to call the serious attention of the Court and the Jury, was one of the most extraordinary in all its circumstances that had ever presented itself in the annals of crime. He was sorry to say, that it was not of late very extraordinary to find persons base enough to raise the hand of murder against their fellow-creatures without any previously-conceived malice against them,--without being stirred up by passion or ill blood, but solely impelled from the spirit of sordid gain,--a gain not to be derived from the possession of the property of their victim, but from the very being which God gave them; their object being to derive profit from the dead bodies to persons engaged in the prosecution of the science of surgery. This was not, however, the most extraordinary circumstance of the present case; but the many facts which he had to unfold to the Court formed one of the most imposing narratives which had ever fallen to the lot of any man placed in his situation to relate. The person about whose death they had met that day to inquire, was named Caroline Walsh, a native of Ireland, and at the time of her murder had reached the advanced age of eighty-four years. She had been living for some time in Red-lion-court, in company with her grand-daughter, who took care of her. The old woman had no means of existence except the produce which she gained from selling tapes and thread in the streets, which she carried about in a basket, and from such alms as charitable persons chose to bestow upon her. Nevertheless, notwithstanding her advanced age, she was strong and hale, of considerable height, and commanding presence; and, what was remarkable in a woman of eighty-four years of age, she had a perfect set of teeth. They were all uninjured except one tooth, three from the centre, which was slightly broken, and in the cavity of which she used to place her pipe whilst smoking. The colour of her hair was black, mixed with gray. Her dress was also remarkable in many particulars. She wore a chip or willow hat (which had been broken by some injury), a shawl, the colour of which had been discharged by long use, a stuff petticoat, embossed with figures, and her apparel was, upon the whole, very clean for a person in her situation in the world. She had also on a pair of knit stockings, mended at the heels, with a linen shift, darned in many parts. This person had become acquainted with the prisoner at the bar. He understood that the female prisoner was not the wife of the male, but they had lived together as man and wife. They had a son, a pupil in a charity school, who lived at home, but was obliged to go out early in the morning. The female prisoner made herself acquainted with Caroline Walsh, and frequently solicited her to come and live at her house, which the grand-daughter of the old woman had always dissuaded her from doing. On the 19th of August, however, the old woman made up her bed in a bundle, went away, and carried it to Goodman's-yard, from which time all trace was lost of her, except through the medium of some very extraordinary circumstances. She was received by the two prisoners in their house in Goodman's-yard, in the presence of the boy, their son, and he now informed the Jury, that one of the many extraordinary things in this case was, that the judgment to which they might come with respect to the prisoners at the bar depended upon the evidence of that boy, for he was present during the whole of the transaction which was the subject of the present inquiry. That boy would have to come into court, and state facts under the solemn promise of his oath, which might endanger the lives of his father and mother. He hoped he was not insensible to the situation in which he stood, in having to call a son to impeach his own parents; and he was sure the Jury would bear in mind, that if one life had been lost by violent means, the lives of two persons (the prisoners at the bar) were committed to their care. The old woman was well received and kindly treated in the prisoners' house, and coffee was made about nine o'clock, an unusual hour for persons in the prisoners' situation to take that refreshment. Some of the coffee was given to the old woman, who immediately felt herself under the necessity of going to sleep, and she sat down on the bedstead. The woman at the bar then went near to her, held down the old woman's hand, which supported her head, and covered and oppressed her person until she destroyed her life. The man took no share in this transaction by manual operation, but, on the contrary, opened a window, and put his head out of it during the time. The Jury would, however, have to determine whether he, being present, could be unconscious of what was passing, and whether he did not, in fact, so sanction the murder as to make himself a principal in aiding and abetting. After destroying the life of the old woman, the female prisoner, who appeared to be a very strong woman, took the body up and carried it out of the room, and deposited it in the cellar of the house. This cellar was common to every person lodging in the house; but there was one part of it a good deal concealed, and in that part of it the body was placed. The prisoners' son had occasion to go into the cellar next day, and there saw a sack with a head hanging out of it, which he recognized as that of the woman who was in the room with him the night before. The female prisoner was seen with the sack going down Goodman's-yard into the Minories; but what became of the body was not known. He had mentioned that the old woman had a grand-daughter, who had endeavoured to dissuade her relation from going to live with the prisoners. The grand-daughter had particularly desired her relation, when she went to the prisoners, not to leave the place next morning until she, the grand-daughter, called upon her. Accordingly, early in the following morning she went to the prisoners' house, and saw the female prisoner. Upon her inquiring for her grandmother, the female prisoner said that she had gone out; at which she expressed her surprise. The female prisoner added, that they had had a pleasant night of it, that they had had a good supper, and 'there,' she said, 'is the sack which we put the old woman in.' 'What do you mean?' said the grand-daughter. 'Why, we doubled it under her, and put her in the bedstead.' 'That is very extraordinary,' said the grand-daughter, 'for there is her own bed in a corner of the room.' The grand-daughter still pursuing her inquiries, the female prisoner at length turned round on her, and said, 'Do you think we have murdered her?' The grand-daughter replied that it really looked as if they had, and that some inquiry must be made. Some further conversation then took place, and the grand-daughter, whose name was Mrs. Butin, with the view of obtaining more knowledge regarding her relation, agreed to go to a public-house with the female prisoner, where they had some gin and beer; there the matter was a good deal more touched upon, but he would leave the witness herself to describe what took place. The female prisoner left her, and after a time Mrs. Butin went back to the prisoners' lodgings, and found that in the mean time the female prisoner had been very severely beaten. The woman said, 'My husband has beaten me for going to drink with you. He was afraid I should tell something about the woman;' adding something which, as it was not said in the presence of the male prisoner, he could not now repeat. These circumstances created considerable alarm in Mrs. Butin's mind as to the fate of her grandmother. The transaction took place in the month of August last, when there did not exist among the public so much anxiety with respect to a crime which has since obtained the popular name of 'Burking.' Mrs. Butin searched everywhere for her relation, but when she applied to the police-offices she did not meet with much attention; but afterwards, when the public attention had been more strongly directed to that species of crime which he had mentioned, she went to Lambeth-street police-office, and there got the assistance of a clever officer, of the name of Lea, to aid her in her inquiries. All their efforts, however, to discover the old woman were in vain; but a very extraordinary circumstance turned up in the course of their investigation. They went about to the different hospitals, to ascertain whether any body answering the description of Caroline Walsh had been carried there, and they learned that, on the 20th of August, a woman was brought to the London Hospital in a state of great destitution and wretchedness, and that she died on the 2d of September. The name of that woman was Caroline Welsh. This was a very extraordinary coincidence, and was a circumstance with which it was his duty to acquaint the Jury, and of which the prisoners were entitled to all the benefit. The Caroline Welsh was an old woman, she had a basket with her, and bore so many resemblances to Caroline Walsh as, at first sight, seemed to make it difficult to distinguish between the two. But upon pursuing the inquiry further, it was found to be impossible that Caroline Walsh and Caroline Welsh should be one and the same person. The woman who died in the hospital was not at all of a decent appearance. She was found in the streets on the night of the 20th of August, by the beadle, in a state of almost utter destitution and starvation. She was taken to the workhouse of the parish, where she gave no account of who she was or where she lived, and her person was so filthy, and so overrun with vermin, that her clothes were obliged to be taken off and burned. She had on a bonnet, but not a chip or willow bonnet, like Caroline Walsh, but a silk or gauze one; and there were other material distinctions between the two women. When she came to the hospital, it was found that she had broken the cap of her knee, which misfortune rendered it difficult for her to walk, and, probably, tended to produce the disease of which she died. Caroline Walsh, on the contrary, was perfectly well in body, and walked without any infirmity. There was also another striking distinction between the two women: Caroline Walsh had, for a woman of her age, a fair, healthy, and florid complexion, while the person who died in the hospital was so extremely dark, as to make the persons about her believe that she was not of white blood, but of the African cast. He had already mentioned that Caroline Walsh had a regular set of teeth, while the other woman had only two canine teeth in the upper jaw, and none in the lower. Until Lea, the officer, lent his assistance, this inquiry was not efficiently pursued, but when he went to the hospital, he caused the woman's body to be dug up in the month of November, when there was still enough of her remaining to show who and what she was. A great number of persons saw the face and skull, and were able to pronounce at once, that it was not the body of Caroline Walsh. He had already traced Walsh to the prisoners' house, on the 19th of August, since which time she had not been heard of. There was a circumstance which greatly tended to fix the guilt of having unfairly disposed of the old woman, on one or both of the prisoners. Rag-fair was situated in the neighbourhood of Goodman's-yard, and the prisoners were there observed to be offering for sale articles of dress exactly similar to those worn by Mrs. Walsh; and directing the purchasers 'not to let them appear, as they did not want the things to be looked at.' The female prisoner was also seen to sell the very basket which Mrs. Walsh used to carry about with her. It was also a remarkable circumstance, that the pocket worn by Mrs. Walsh, on the 19th of August, had been made by the grand-daughter, and was tendered for sale by the woman at the bar; and he could prove, that the pocket was worn by Mrs. Walsh, not only from Mrs. Butin being able to swear to her own work, but in consequence of its having been seen on her person on the very day she went to the prisoners' house. It appeared, that on the way there she met with a child, for whom she felt much affection, and wishing to give the child something, she lifted her petticoat to get at her pocket, which was observed by a person near, who could swear to the pocket, in consequence of a mark of iron-mould upon it. He had now stated nearly all the facts which would be proved before the Jury. The fate of the prisoners was in their hands, and he had no doubt that, aided by that Providence which overlooked them all, and who seldom permitted deep crimes to go unpunished in this world, they would arrive at a just conclusion. The learned counsel then proceeded to call the evidence.

The first witness called was Edward Cook, the son of the prisoners. As he passed by the bar where they stood, they looked sternly at him, and the mother asked whether 'he had come to tell any more lies?'

EDWARD COOK examined.--Is in Aldgate Charity School; goes backward and forward to the school every morning and night, and comes home to his meals. The prisoners are his father and mother. In August last was living in Goodman's-yard, Whitechapel, in a single room, the garret. Previously lived in Red Lion-court, in the same neighbourhood. Knows Ann Butin; has seen an old woman, a relation of hers, in her company; believes the old woman used to sleep with Ann Butin. The old woman used to carry a basket about the streets with matches in it. On a Friday in August witness saw the old woman in his father's room. Does not know the day of the month; remembers Ann Butin coming to inquire at his father's house; thinks Ann Butin came on the same day as the old woman; first saw the old woman in the afternoon at five, after returning from school; does not know whether the old woman had been in the house before. Witness's mother and father were in the room with the old woman. They were drinking beer, and some coffee was made about nine o'clock. The usual time of taking coffee or tea at home was five or six o'clock. The old woman took one cup of coffee, and afterwards went and laid herself on the bed. Did not notice whether she went to sleep or not. In about half an hour after saw his mother go towards the old woman, and clap her hand on her mouth, and keep it there, perhaps for half an hour. She put the other hand somewhere about the chest. His mother leaned over the woman at the time. Witness observed the woman's eyes rolling--he believed after this his mother took her hands off. He was certain it was when his mother took her hands off. Never saw the old woman speak or move after. Has seen two or three dead persons; the old woman appeared to him to be dead. Believes his father went to the window before his mother went up to the woman. The window was opened by his father, he believed, after the drinking of the coffee. Whilst witness was looking at his mother, he could also see his father. Witness had his back to the fire, and the window opposite him. The bed, which was not very high from the ground, stood between the fire and the window. Heard his mother say something about an hospital; does not know whether she spoke to the old woman or his father. Neither of them gave any answer. Did not hear his father say anything in the course of the evening. His mother carried the old woman out of the room, like a baby in her arms. His father came round the bed to the fire, about half an hour before his mother carried the old woman away. Witness went to bed about twelve o'clock, and did not see his mother any more that night. He awoke in the night and heard some screaming, but would not say whether this occurred on Friday or Saturday. He rose at seven o'clock. Saw his mother in the room, but does not recollect having seen his father. About five minutes before eight o'clock went down to the cellar. Some person had told him that there were ducks there, and went to look for them. Went to the part of the cellar where the stairs stand; it is rather darker there than in the other parts. There is a corner over which the stairs ran. Witness saw a sack in the corner, and some hair hanging out of it. The sack appeared to be tied round the top with some string, but not tied close. The hair was black and grey. Saw his mother take a sack from under the bed; but is not sure whether that day or afterwards. Believes the sack he saw in the cellar was the same. On Saturday night saw his mother going down Goodman's-yard, between eleven and twelve o'clock. She was carrying a sack across her shoulders, with something apparently in it.

Cross-examined.--Witness was twelve years old last Christmas. Continued to attend the charity-school daily until November. Since being taken into custody, has continued at the House of Correction. Has not been questioned, respecting this matter, by any other person, excepting his schoolmaster, and Hawkins, and Steward, two prisoners. Believes no one else has examined him, excepting Mr. Lea, the officer, who asked him a few questions. Has been examined by four or five persons in a private room in the police-office. Cannot say how he recollected that this affair took place on a Friday in August. Never mentioned this matter to any person living in the same house. Does not know whether he had spoken on the subject to any person, previous to being taken into custody. Went to the school on Saturday morning, after having been in the cellar. Saw no other person in the room on Saturday, but his father and mother, and the old woman. Believes his mother fetched the coffee. Witness drunk a little white mugfull. Believes the old woman took a cupfull, but is not sure whether she took any. Does not recollect speaking to his father at all. Next morning witness went to the cellar for the purpose of using the privy, but did not use it. The place where the sack lay under the stairs was darkish, but positively swears that he could not see that the hair protruding from the sack was black and gray. He does not know where he was when he saw his mother carrying the sack in Goodman's-fields; but he believes he was at the window of his room, which was three stories high, and the hour was eleven at night.

Cross-examined by Mr. CHURCHILL.--The cellar and privy were common to every person lodging in the same house. Did not examine the sack.

Re-examined.--Witness would not have seen the sack, if he had gone direct to the privy and back. The cellar is lighted by a window, which had a shutter to it. Thinks that the shutter was open when he went into the cellar.

Mr. Justice PARKE.--Did you not tell Mr. Lea, that you had all of you bread and cheese for supper that night?

Witness.--Does not recollect saying that; thinks he said coffee. Does not recollect saying to Lea that he went to bed at eight o'clock, nor that they all went to bed at that hour. Does not recollect saying that his father came to bed to him, and that the old woman made her bed in the corner. When his mother had her hand on the old woman, he thinks that the countenance of the woman appeared brown and yellow.

Mr. Justice PARKE.--You said that you had seen dead bodies before this Friday. Where did you see them?

Witness had seen two children, neighbours, lying dead.

By Mr. Justice JAMES PARKE.--Saw no difference in the appearance of the woman's countenance before or after the coffee. Witness did not use the privy when he went into the cellar, and thinks he told the magistrate so. Thinks he has given a different account of this occurrence before. Thinks he told the magistrate that the woman was alive on Saturday morning. He said so because he did not like to tell the truth.

Mr. HENRY REYNOLDS.--Is a surgeon living in Prescott-street. Has heard the account given by the preceding witness of the manner in which the old woman was treated. Such treatment was sufficient to cause death by suffocation. The motion of the eyes might be produced by suffocation. It is generally the last motion of life.

Cross-examined by Mr. CHURCHILL.--It is not a matter of course that there would be a change of countenance after suffocation: that is a circumstance modified by age. Generally speaking, a change takes place.

A plan of the room and cellar was handed to a surveyor, who swore that they were correctly drawn. The room was eleven feet eleven inches from the fire to the window, and lengthways thirteen feet. The bedstead in the room was six feet long and four feet two inches broad. The light thrown into the cellar by the window was obstructed by the stairs.

On cross-examination, the surveyor stated, that the place under the stairs was darker than in other places; but after being in the cellar, the eye became accustomed to the place, and could distinguish any thing lying under the stairs.

EDWARD COOK was recalled, and, in answer to a question, stated that he did not suspect what his mother was doing when she placed her hand on the old woman. Did not see his mother take any clothes off the old woman. Heard his mother say something about some hospital; but does not know what. Said before the magistrate, that his mother told him herself, on Sunday morning, that she took the body to the London Hospital. Witness still declared that his mother did tell him so on Sunday morning.

ELIZABETH JONES.--Is the wife of George Jones. In August last kept a house in Goodman's-yard, in which the prisoner lodged. The privy, in the cellar, was not much frequented, on account of the great number of rats. There was another privy, not in the cellar, which was used by the inmates. The window of the cellar was generally opened about seven o'clock. Remembers an old woman coming to the house, at ten o'clock, on the 19th of August. She was a tall person; but witness did not see her face. She had on a dark stuff gown, a light blue shawl, and a black willow bonnet: her feet were through her stockings, and she wore shoes. Witness, on her first examination, described the shawl to be an old dark one; but upon recollection, knows that the colour was light blue. Witness took particular notice of the woman, on account of her looking poor. Supposed that she had come to lodge in the house, in consequence of her carrying a bundle. Everything behind the woman appeared tidy, but witness did not see her face. Afterwards saw Mrs. Butin--thinks the next morning; Mrs. Butin came to inquire after her grandmother.

Cross-examined by Mr. BARRY.--Witness slept at home on Saturday, the 20th of August.