Q.C., M.P. for Kilkenny. Serjeant Shee, though an able barrister is, however, a devout Roman Catholic.
More than a quarter of a century has elapsed since the disabilities from which Romanists suffered in Britain were removed by Act of Parliament, but a strong prejudice against them still undeniably pervades public life. Mr Smith dared not hope that the jury would remain ignorant of Serjeant Shee's faith (this anti-Catholic sentiment being particularly rife among London tradespeople of the Roundhead tradition), if only because he had been
prominent as an advocate of Emancipation, and had of late spoken very forcibly in Parliament on the subject of the late potato famine in Ireland and the absentee Protestant landlords. Yet this prejudice seemed unlikely to affect the Bench. True, Lord Chief Justice Campbell, a Scottish 'son of the manse', had read Divinity, rather than Law, at St Andrews University, and might well regard all Roman Catholics as eternally damned. But Mr Baron
Alderson was known as a humane judge, anxious to restrict capital punishment, and Mr Smith counted on him and Mr Justice Cresswell, to restrain the Lord Chief Justice if he showed undue animus towards either Serjeant Shee or the prisoner.
Nevertheless, the Usher of the Central Criminal Court assured us on the first day of the triaclass="underline" 'Sir, Dr Palmer will swing, you may be bound.'
Upon our questioning him, we were told familiarly: 'I know Jack Campbell's hanging face well, and his hanging manner.'
"What is that?' we asked.
'His hanging face, Sir, is bland and benignant, and his hanging manner unctuous. As soon as the prisoner entered the dock and Lord Campbell invited him to be seated, I would have offered long odds against his chances of life.'
'But it takes twelve good and true men to hang a criminal,' we insisted, 'and there are a couple of other judges on the bench beside the Lord Chief Justice.'
He shook his head sagely.' Sir Cresswell Cresswell is a humane and honest man,' he pronounced, 'but Alderson would as lief hang Shee as he would Palmer. Those two legal gentlemen have always been at loggerheads, I can't say why—it may be a political disagreement, it may be a personal one. Moreover, Attorney-General Cockburn is a beloved compatriot of Jack Campbell's, and he's out to destroy Palmer. Even if the pair of them weren't as thick as thieves, it would take a mighty firm Lord Chief Justice to handle a determined Attorney-General. Cocky, you know, is due for his judgeship any day now and wishes to make this a memorable farewell to the Bar—a savages' feast day with fireworks, drums, bloody sacrifices and all. So that's three of them teamed together—Jack Campbell, Alderson and Cocky! They can do what they list, for the Under-Sheriffs have a hand-picked jury ready to serve them. Will you dare lay against Palmer's conviction?'
'I'm not a betting man,' was our cautious answer.
The twelve-day trial, which opened on May 14th, 1856, was memorable not only for brilliant forensic displays by the prosecuting and defending Counsel, but also, as we shall not hesitate to point out, for a singular conflict of evidence and surprising irregularities in judicial procedure.
On the opening day the Attorney-General promised to show that Dr Palmer was financially interested in murdering John Parsons Cook, and that, having weakened his system with tartar emetic both at Shrewsbury and at Rugeley, he purchased strychnia at the latter town and administered it in the form of pills, substituting these for the rhubarb, calomel and morphia pills which Dr Bamford had prescribed. No strychnia had been found in Cook's body, yet the Attorney-General insisted (with leave from Professor Taylor) that strychnia, being rapidly absorbed into the system, evades detection in the tissues of its victim, and that Cook's symptoms were consistent with strychnine poisoning.
The first witness called was Mr Ishmael Fisher, the sporting wine merchant, whom we can hardly describe as unprejudiced, since Dr Palmer had defrauded him of two hundred pounds. He testified forcibly to Cook's suspicion of having been poisoned at The Raven Hotel; and was followed by other members of his sporting party, none of whom, since reading about the verdicts at the inquests on Annie and Walter Palmer, and on Cook, wished to be known as the prisoner's friends or supporters.
Next appeared Elizabeth Mills, formerly chambermaid at The Talbot Arms Hotel, Rugeley, a sharp-featured young woman, wearing a fashionable bonnet. Her account of events varied to a great extent from the depositions she had made before the Coroner. She now reported fresh and striking symptoms, hitherto undisclosed; and it came back to her that she had tasted Cook's bowl of broth and found herself severely poisoned by it. The Prosecution sought to prove that these vital matters must also have appeared in her depositions, had the Coroner's inquest been properly conducted.
Serjeant Shee's cross-examination of this flighty miss on the second day proves, to our satisfaction at least, how successfully Mr Stevens had contrived to suborn her. She was, it seems, shown an account of the recent atrocity at Leeds (where a Mr Dove poisoned his wife with strychnine), and then asked to remember the same medical particulars in Cook's case.
The following is a somewhat abbreviated record of Elizabeth Mills's disingenuous answers to Serjeant Shee's questions:
SERGEANT SHEE. How long did you stay at The Talbot Arms Hotel
after Cook's death?
MILLS. Till the day after Christmas-day. Then I went home.
SERJEANT SHEE. Where is 'home'?
MILLS. Shelton, in the Potteries.
SERJEANT SHEE. Have you been in service since?
MILLS. Yes, as chambermaid at Dolly's Hotel, Paternoster Row.
SERJEANT SHEE. Are you in service there now?
MILLS. NO. I stayed only six weeks; until February.
SERJEANT SHEE. After you came to London, did you see Mr Stevens?
MILLS. Yes.
SERJEANT SHEE. Where and when did you see him?
MILLS. At Dolly's, about a week later.
SERJEANT SHEE. How many times?
MILLS. Perhaps four or five.
SERJEANT SHEE. Will you swear it was not ten times?
MILLS. It might be six or seven; that was about the outside. I cannot
exactly keep account. . .
SERJEANT SHEE. Where at Dolly's did you see him?
MILLS. Sometimes he would speak to me while Mrs Dewhurst, the landlady, was there, in one of her sitting-rooms.
SERJEANT SHEE. But sometimes you went into a sitting-room and
spoke to him alone? MILLS. Perhaps twice or three times.
SERJEANT SHEE. Was it always about Mr Cook's death that he spoke to you?
MILLS. No, it was not. He would call to see how I liked London, and
whether I was well in health, and all that.
SERJEANT SHEE. Mr Stevens is a gentleman, not in your station. Do
you mean to say he called so often to inquire after your health ?
MILLS. That, and to see whether I liked the place.