THE TRIAL. (continued 4)

Serjeant Shee

I have said “a little learning is a dangerous thing,” and it appears to me that there never was a case in which the adage was so applicable as it is in this. Of all the works of God, the one best calculated to fill us with wonder and admiration, and convince us of our dependence on our Maker, and the utter nothingness of ourselves, is the mortal coil in which we live, and breathe, and think, and have our being. Every minute of our lives functions are performed at our will, the unerring accuracy of which nothing but Omniscience and Omnipotence could have secured. We feel and see exactly what takes place, and yet the moment we attempt to explain what takes place, the instant we endeavour to give a reason for what we know, and see, and do, the mystery of creation—“God created man to His own image; to the image of God created He him”—arrests our course, and we are flung back upon conjecture and doubt. We know in a sense—we suppose—that the soft medullary substance which is within the cavity of the head is the seat of thought, of sensation, and of will. We know that that soft medullary substance is continued down the middle of the back, protected by a bony duct or canal, within which bony duct or canal it lies embedded; and we know that from the sides of this bony duct and from this medullary substance proceed an infinite variety of nerves, the conduits of sensation from all parts of the body to the soul, and of muscles connected and dependent on them, the instruments of voluntary motion. This we know, and we know that by that process all the ordinary actions of our lives, at our own will, are effected with the most wonderful precision. Sometimes, however, these nerves and muscles depart from their normal character, and, instead of being the mere instruments of the will of the soul, become irregular, convulsive, tumultuary, vindicating to themselves a sort of independent vitality, totally regardless of the authority to which they are ordinarily subject. When thrown into this state of irritation and excitement their effects are known by the general name of convulsions. It is remarkable, unlike most other fine names, they are not a modern adaptation. The ancients had them to express the very same thing; the spasmodic and tetanic affections were known then, and as much about them hundreds and thousands of years ago as is known now. Tetanic convulsions have in later times been divided into two specific branches of tetanus—idiopathic and traumatic. We have heard a great deal of these two descriptions of tetanus. One question my lord asked, which was answered by Dr. Todd—it would have been more satisfactory if my lord had asked what the meaning of the English of “idiopathic,” viz., self-generating, was; the answer given to the question, What does idiopathic mean? was “constitutional.” True, but that means nothing, or, if anything, it means “unaccountable.”

Lord Campbell—Without external injury.

Mr. Serjeant Shee—Just so, my lord; without external injury, but attributable to no known cause, unless in some few instances, perhaps, where there is some injury in the interior of the body; but the meaning of the word “idiopathic” is unquestionably what I have stated; not that it follows they never can be traced to a cause, but that they constantly occur in which the cause may be attributed to one thing or to another, and in that case we say that it is idiopathic tetanus, because we cannot with certainty say it is traumatic, that is, arising from any external injury.

Serjeant Shee

Now, gentlemen, we have had a great deal of evidence produced by my friends directed to show—assuming that the disease of which Mr. Cook died was tetanus—that it must have been strychnia tetanus. It is a mere assumption they begin with—the merest assumption in the world. I will give you my reasons for saying so, and I think I am justified in so saying. That the deceased died in convulsions is beyond all question, or immediately after convulsions; that they were convulsions that had occurred exactly or about the same hours on the previous night, and something like those which had occurred on the night preceding, something which he described as madness for two minutes, is beyond all doubt. What pretence is there for saying they were tetanus at all? Mr. Jones was examined, and I will read to you presently what the evidence he gave was. Mr. Jones, in the copy of the depositions delivered to me, stated that Mr. Cook died of convulsions, and in the copy of the depositions, which he signed and read over and corrected, there was not a word of tetanus. My learned friend interposed, and said, on looking to the original depositions, it did appear that he had mentioned it, and he said so because in the course of his examination he found a half-written word, “tetinus”—he availed himself of it, not unfairly, to suggest, that though he did not positively say it was tetanus, yet that what he observed was something which put him in mind of tetanus. It bore some of the characteristics of a tetanic convulsion; but, gentlemen, it may do so, and yet not be tetanus; and I submit to you that it is bad reasoning, and I will prove it presently. I put a question to the witness on the subject. It is bad reasoning to say without positive proof of the fact that it was tetanus, and it cannot be traumatic tetanus, because it did not appear it had presented the distinct features of traumatic tetanus, and therefore it must be tetanus by strychnia. That is the argument. They assume it cannot be traumatic tetanus, they have not discovered the poison, but still they say it must be tetanus by poison!

Serjeant Shee

Let us see whether there is any pretence for saying anything of the kind. My learned friends may tell me, if you venture to impeach the authority of a man like Dr. Taylor, who, though he had no knowledge on the subject, undoubtedly is a gentleman of great leading in his profession, and a gentleman who has written a book, which I will not treat as a book not worthy of being attended to because I think it right on this evidence to attack a particular part of it—if you choose to say his opinion is not to be depended upon, it is incumbent on you to suggest some other theory of the cause of Cook’s death which will explain the evidence given, and prove not merely negatively it is not what we say it was, but prove affirmatively it is something else. I say I am not called on to do any such thing. The Crown is the party, or rather those out of whose hands this case has been taken by the Crown, who have thought proper to impute the death of this gentleman to the poison of strychnia; they have followed the trail which has been dragged before them by these toxicologists; and, relying on their judgment and discretion, they have made quite sure they will be enabled to establish the fact that it was not either by traumatic or idiopathic tetanus, but by tetanus of strychnia, that he had died. I say I am not bound to suggest any theory upon the subject. It cannot be expected that in the defence I should do so; and, in point of logic, it is not reasonable, when we contradict the fact which it is for them to prove, that our denial of that fact and our reasons should be weakened because we cannot conclusively fix the cause of death, or explain the cause of death in any other way. If we can satisfy you that into any one of the numerous varieties of convulsions this gentleman might have fallen, and might have been either asphyxiated, or by some sudden spasm deprived of life in a way different from asphyxia—it is quite enough for us to prove the probability of that, unless they show conclusively that the circumstances and symptoms which attended his death are irreconcilable with any other theory than that of strychnia poison. Let us see what the symptoms were. I will take the liberty of reading them in the first instance from the depositions, because it is only fair to a person whose judgment I dispute that you should have placed clearly before you the evidence on which they rely.

The Court here adjourned for a short time.

Gentlemen, I have observed in the course of this inquiry, whenever there has been a question of what a witness has said on a previous occasion before a coroner, my lord has thought it right to have the whole of the document read. Now, I propose to read—unless I am corrected by my lord, when, of course, I shall immediately submit—I propose to read, for the purpose of my present inquiry, only that part of the deposition which describes the symptoms.

Lord Campbell—You may read any part of them, completing the sense of the part which you read.

Mr. Serjeant Shee—I am much obliged to your lordship; and my object in so doing is this, I will read all the deposition of Mr. Jones, though in truth, in my view of the case, the deposition of Mr. Jones is not so favourable to my case as his evidence in open Court. If there be a difference, the evidence in open Court is more favourable than the deposition; but substantially they are the same. What I propose to do now is to call your attention to the statements of Elizabeth Mills and Mr. Jones before the coroner of the symptoms they observed in Cook on the Monday and Tuesday nights; and having done so, without accepting any challenge which may be made by my friend to account for the symptoms, I will submit to your judgment, on authority which cannot deceive you, whether those symptoms are not more probably accounted for by the convulsions which are not tetanic at all, and certainly not tetanic in its distinct character of strychnia tetanus, but to be classed under those general convulsions by which it constantly pleases Providence to strike man down without leaving a trace of their course in his system.

Serjeant Shee

Gentlemen, what I have to submit to you is this, that the symptoms described in the depositions of Elizabeth Mills and Mr. Jones were such as to make it quite unjustifiable to resort to the hypothesis of tetanus of any kind, much less of strychnia tetanus. You will recollect—I will not repeat it—the peculiarity of the constitution of this young man, and the evidence of occasional functional derangement, not particularly at that time, which involve grave consequences, to which I have already called your attention. I submit to you, on the authorities on matters of this kind, it is much more probable that Cook died in general convulsions, not tetanic at all, than that he died from idiopathic, traumatic, or strychnia tetanus.

Serjeant Shee

I have mentioned all that I intend to say about his bodily infirmities—let us now see what has been the state of his mind. He went to the Shrewsbury races in imminent peril of leaving them a ruined man. Mr. Stevens told Palmer, and we have heard nothing to the contrary, that if anybody had claims upon him, there would not be four thousand shillings to meet them. We know, from the necessity under which he was to raise sums of money at exorbitant interest, that he must have been in circumstances of the utmost embarrassment—that it was impossible, morally speaking, unless some wonderful success on the turf restored his fortunes, that he could stand his ground at all; and it is in this state of mind, and with health, at all events, not strong, and a constitution exceedingly delicate, that he had been for a length of time cherishing the hope that “Polestar,” which was hardly his, for it was mortgaged, and which must become another person’s if it did not win at Shrewsbury—in all reasonable probability he had been cherishing the hope that “Polestar” would win, and that he by that winning would possess himself at once of the stakes, which my learned friend stated, and I think it was proved, amounted to nearly £400, besides some considerable winnings to the amount of £600 or £700 by bets on the mare—upwards of £1000 altogether. That has been mentioned several times. Fancy the condition in which that young man rose from his bed on the Tuesday morning. He must have known and felt when he went down to breakfast, “This night I am either a beggar, or a man with hopes of recovering myself, and with the means, at least for the time, of keeping up my appearance of respectability.” He goes to the races—another race takes place before his mare, “Polestar,” is brought to the goal. He waits for it in a state of feverish anxiety and expectation—the hour that intervenes appears to him everlasting. At last the horses start, and his mare wins easily—he is the winner of £1000. We may suppose that to be the sum. What effect has it upon him? Mr. Jones tells us the effect. He is unable to speak for three minutes. He is saved, not merely in purse but in honour and character—saved before his relatives and friends. He will not be a disgrace to them yet, at all events; he may retrieve his fortunes, and become an honourable and respectable man. Conceive him to be a man with right feelings—and it is not because a man falls into the ways of promiscuous licentiousness that he is devoid of all honourable feeling—conceive him to be an honourable man, a man who loved the memory of his father and his mother, who valued the respectability of his family, and who had a desire to appear before his sister, Mrs. Bradford, as an honourable man, instead of being known to her as a levanter and a blackleg, driven from all honourable society. The effect of his success is that for three minutes he cannot speak, though he is with his intimate friend Mr. Jones. He goes back to the inn, though he has to some extent recovered himself, in a state of elation, of which it is my duty to say that one man said he was not more elated than other people when they have won, but still, depend upon it, overjoyed, and with a revulsion from the despair in which he was, which must have convulsed, though not in a sense of immediate illness, every fibre of his frame. His first and his natural inclination was to entertain his friends, and he gives a champagne dinner. The evidence is that he did not drink to excess; that is the evidence—but he had champagne, and we all of us know that when there is champagne there are other things besides, and it very often happens it is not because champagne is drunk the company do not drink as much of other wines. What in ordinary parlance is called a champagne dinner is a good, luxurious entertainment, in which there is no stint and not much self-restraint. I do not mean to say he was drunk. The evidence is he rose from table not drunk, and therefore it is not for me to say, and the evidence will not justify me in saying, he was. That evening he did not spend in the company of Jones. I do not think it is very clear in whose company he spent it after the dinner was over; but we find him the next night, Wednesday, at the Unicorn, with Saunders, the trainer, Mr. Palmer, and a lady. The next morning is cold and wet. He went on the ground, and was observed by Herring standing in the wet, who remonstrated with him for so doing. He was taken ill that night, and you will hear what his symptoms were. I shall call your attention to those under the third head of what I have to address to you. He sent for a doctor, who recommended an emetic. The poor man seemed to know more about it than the doctor. He said he could do it with hot water and a toothbrush. Perhaps he had often relieved his stomach in that way. He was unwell that day, and was ailing till his death at Rugeley. That is the general history, as far as the mental excitement can be referred to—great reason to apprehend ruin when he went to Shrewsbury; immediate, sudden, yet only partial recovery from his embarrassments at Shrewsbury; and home to Rugeley to meet them again in their full intensity, all the winnings and twice the sum, unable to save him from the ruin he had brought on himself. All the property he appears to have had at the time was “Polestar” and “Syrius,” and they were mortgaged for debts due to Pratt. He may have had some few hundreds in money. It is with a weakened body and an irritated and excited mind that he is affected with a sickness at Shrewsbury, which clings to a system incapable of being recruited by the ordinary necessary food, without which the strongest man gives way, excites his nerves, and makes him in imminent danger of falling a victim to any convulsive attacks to which his constitution would be likely to be disposed. Depend upon it, the thoughts of that young man, when he retired to bed, were not the thoughts with which you lay your heads upon the pillow. He had much to think of which he regretted, much to deliberate upon which was of a nature to excite in his mind the most serious apprehensions. There was neither credit, nor honour, nor anything in his career which would make him respect himself, or respectable in the eyes of others. His rest was only imperfect at the best, and after the gratifications of the animal appetite to which people in some instances resort to alleviate the unhappy recollections of the moment, he had no resource. He desired no society so much as the society of Palmer. His residence was at the Talbot Arms, which was, in fact, a residence with Palmer. He does not appear to have had a sitting-room to himself; he does not appear to have frequented the coffee-room. He had a bedroom at the Talbot Arms, and his real home, where he often was, and would have been nearly altogether but for his illness, was Palmer’s house over the way. That was his condition at Rugeley. He is taken violently ill on Sunday night. We had nothing but his own description of it; but what is that description? He had been poorly for some time. For two nights he had been taking opium pills prescribed by Mr. Bamford. Mr. Bamford is an aged man, but there is no doubt a respectable man, and a man who would be likely, I think we might fairly infer, to consider what the complaint was and prescribe accordingly. In the middle of the night, at twelve o’clock, he was awakened from a dream in a state of affright. He says he was nearly mad; he rang the bell, but nobody would come.

Lord Campbell—He thought they would not hear him; he thought they had gone to bed.

Serjeant Shee

Mr. Serjeant Shee—Yes; that is so; I am much obliged to your lordship. He states he was mad for two minutes, and what did he ascribe it to? Nothing but sudden alarm at the noise of a quarrel in the street. Does that happen to us, gentlemen? Does it happen to those of us who live regular lives, and who are of good average constitution? Do we awaken in a state that we can describe as madness, and without any mode of accounting for the paroxysm but a quarrel in the street? It must have been a very high state of nervous excitement. It must have been something violent while it lasted—transient in its character—but something that arose from a disordered state of the stomach and an agitated and anxious mind, probably in some degree weakened by the medicine he was taking, the calomel and the morphia.

The next day, the Monday, he was well the whole day; not well in the sense of being strong and able to take a walk in the fields, or mount his horse and gallop about the country, but well in the sense of being able to get up, after trying to breakfast in bed, to talk of sending for the barber, and, I believe, actually sending for him; of seeing his trainer and his jockeys, and discussing his plans for his next campaign—well to that extent, but not out of his bedroom, taking no substantial food, not vomiting much that day, though a little I think in the morning, which is ascribed by the theory of the Crown, or by those whose case the Crown has been forced by public opinion or by public excitement to take up, to Palmer’s absence all that day. We do not hear that Cook took anything solid. We do not hear that he lunched at one o’clock, and then, as most probably he was in the habit of doing, took his beefsteak and his leg of mutton, or his chicken, at five or six o’clock. He had no insuperable dislike to brandy and water; he could, on occasion, take his glass or two, though Palmer was not there; but he does not appear to have been in the condition, ill as he was, to have any gratification in food or drink of any kind; and Palmer was in London all the time. Then, in the middle of the night, at twelve o’clock, he was seized with a paroxysm, which Elizabeth Mills describes. We will take her description. That is the account of Cook’s illness on Monday night. It might have been a much less serious fit than the one on the Sunday night. Nothing took place which could justify any man in saying that he was mad for a minute—nothing of the kind. But let us be fair. Afterwards, in talking of it, he says, speaking to Elizabeth Mills, “Did you ever see anybody in such agony as I was last night?” We have the description of Elizabeth Mills, and his own statement afterwards; “I saw him again about seven o’clock, and he asked me whether I ever saw anybody in such agony as he was the previous night.” Not to tie the young woman down to a word, the fair inference of the whole of that statement is that for some time during the whole of that paroxysm he was in pain, and in great pain, but that he never lost his senses. He could not very well be in such a state as that which he described on the Sunday night. Now, let us have the statement of Mr. Jones, who is, we must take it, a perfectly competent man, and whose evidence must be attended to. Mr. Jones was requested to go there by Palmer, Palmer having written to him on the Sunday. He was not able to go then, being himself indisposed, and he could not get there till Tuesday. He went there on the Tuesday, and got there by three o’clock, and he was for some time with Cook alone.

Serjeant Shee

Now, just observe the consequence of that, looking at the circumstances of this case. Mr. Jones was the most intimate friend, as far as we can judge, that Cook had. Probably he was. He had a great regard for Mr. Stevens, who had been the husband of Cook’s mother, but he was not so intimate with Mr. Stevens. Mr. Stevens was probably a gentleman who did not approve—in fact, he frankly told us he disapproved—of the course Cook was pursuing. Probably he was more austere to him during life than we should imagine from the way he speaks of him after death. His best friend seems to have been Mr. Jones. No doubt Mr. Jones, though he was a respectable man, did not take on himself to rebuke or reprove Cook for what he might think it not correct to do. He lived in his house at Lutterworth, and appears to have been on such good terms with Cook that Palmer knew it would not be disagreeable to Cook if Mr. Jones would come and stay and sleep in the same bedroom, and so long as he required the attendance of a friend; and, as far as we can understand, Mr. Jones has Cook to himself from three to seven o’clock. He has him to himself for some considerable time. You know part of the suggestion in this case for the Crown is that Cook thought that Palmer had played false with him at Shrewsbury; part of the suggestion in this case is that Cook thought at Shrewsbury Palmer laid a plan for circumventing him, and of getting his money. Mr. Jones had the opportunity, during the afternoon, if Cook had wished it, of being the recipient of the whole confidence of Cook; Cook might have said to Mr. Jones, “I am glad you have come; I have been acting the fool with Palmer; I suspect him; I think he means to get my money.”

The Attorney-General—You must not say that. You would not let me ask him any questions about it.

Mr. Serjeant Shee—I do not say that it did pass. I use it in this way, it might have passed, and that it did not is clear, because Mr. Jones entertained no suspicion of the kind; he having been with Cook during the whole of the evening shows that it did not pass, and that nothing occurred in the entire and unbounded confidence which may be supposed to have existed between Cook and Mr. Jones to raise a suspicion in the mind of Mr. Jones; and so much was that the case that, at the consultation which took place between seven and eight o’clock on Tuesday evening, between Mr. Jones and Palmer and Mr. Bamford, as to what the medicine ought to be, the fit of the Monday night was never mentioned; it was not alluded to at all.

Serjeant Shee

Gentlemen, that is a very remarkable fact; it is remarkable in two ways; the Crown might say it is remarkable in this sense, that Palmer knew it, and said not a word about it. But it seems it was a matter, in the opinion of Cook, so little serious, that he never said a word of it to Mr. Jones, because, if Cook had thought that those words which he used to Elizabeth Mills were not an exaggerated description of what had occurred, do you not think, when Mr. Jones came to see him, and felt his pulse, and inquired what his symptoms were, that Cook would have said (he being in full possession of his senses), “You cannot judge now from my appearance how I am—I was in a state of madness last night—I was in the greatest possible agony—I do not know what it was—I was attacked in the middle of the night in such a way that I thought I was going to die”? As he had Mr. Jones with him, would he not have mentioned that in the conversation? My inference from that is, that in all probability this first statement of Elizabeth Mills was the correct statement of what occurred; and if we find it is consistent with what Mr. Jones says as to what occurred the next night in its general character, it would be very nearly the same on both nights. We may reasonably infer that anything in excess of that, on which the medical evidence was given, has been the result of imagination, and not so strictly consistent with the truth as the original statement. Let us see what Mr. Jones says. (The learned Serjeant read a portion of the deposition of Mr. Jones before the coroner.) Observe the significance of that. Palmer, in the presence of Mr. Jones, brings up two pills, which it is supposed were the pills that poisoned him—pills containing a substance which sometimes does its work in a quarter of an hour, which has done it in less, but never hardly exceeds half an hour; and so we are to be asked to believe that Palmer, Jones being present, and Cook in his presence objecting to take the pills, positively forced them down his throat, at the imminent peril of his falling down, like the rabbit, in two or three minutes afterwards in convulsions evidently and manifestly tetanic. He states what did take place. (The learned Serjeant read a further portion of Mr. Jones’ deposition.) But, as I am reminded by one of my lords, that in the course of the examination of Mr. Jones the word “tetanus” is used, it is right I should say a word on that, lest I should forget it. The word “tetanus” is not in the deposition, and it is very remarkable that the suggestion which has been put forward by the Crown was the suggestion of Dr. Taylor. I do not think it is impossible that Mr. Jones, when he gave that evidence, had in his mind’s eye what he had seen that night and not seen very correctly. He had not light enough to see the patient’s face. There was only one candle, and he could not tell whether there was any change in his countenance on the Tuesday—a very important symptom. They say it cannot have been tetanic, because there is a peculiar expression in the face—a fact which nobody observed. It was too dark, in this case of Cook’s, to take notice. Mr. Jones gave his evidence, and he is a competent professional man, and it is quite clear that the notion of tetanus, tetanic, tetaniform, or something like tetanus, must have entered into his mind, because the clerk has put down “tetinus”; he probably had not heard of the word before, and the probability is something like it was used. He said he did use it, and afterwards it was struck out, and Mr. Jones corrected his deposition, read it all over, and signed it, and left it with the word struck out. There are strong symptoms of “compression,” that is, one word struck out; then afterwards there is the word “tetinus,” and then those two words are struck out, with Mr. Jones’ entire approbation, because otherwise he would have corrected it when he signed it; and he said he read it over, and the words “violent convulsions” were substituted. What is the fair inference from that?—that the man who saw Cook in the paroxysm did not think himself justified in saying it was tetanus. It might be very like; it might have a tetaniform appearance; but it was not tetanus.

Gentlemen, I will call your attention to the features of general convulsions. I cross-examined several of the medical witnesses for the purpose of inducing what I consider to be a true belief as to this case, that the convulsions in which Cook died were not tetanus or tetanic properly speaking; but that they were convulsions of that strong and violent character which are tetaniform, though not classed under idiopathic or traumatic tetanus, but under the head of general convulsions.

Serjeant Shee

Gentlemen, I now propose to read a description of general convulsions from the work of Dr. Copland. I called the attention of the very learned gentlemen who were examined for the Crown to what was laid down in that work, which is admitted to be one of authority, and I cannot conceive how you, to whom this matter of fact is to be submitted, can form an opinion whether or not my theory, or rather my belief, that he died by the visitation of God, in violent general convulsions, be a probable one, unless you hear from what was not written for the purposes of this case what the features of general convulsions are; so, if you please, I will read to you what I have myself copied from the work of Dr. Copland. This, I may say, as I am upon the point, that the only persons in the profession who can be supposed to have any competent or reliable information on the subject of tetanus, not traumatic, are physicians; and not one physician—properly so speaking—not one of that most honourable body of men who see the sudden attacks of patients in their beds, and not in hospitals, has been called to speak to this. Dr. Todd was called, and Dr. Todd gave his evidence in a way to command the respect of everybody; but Dr. Todd is a gentleman whose practice does not appear to have been so much that of a physician as that of a surgeon; he is physician to the King’s College Hospital, and has held that office about twenty years; he has lectured on diseases of the nervous system and tetanus, but he does not appear to have been a physician in general practice.

Serjeant Shee

Gentlemen, I am instructed—I shall be able to show—by eminent men that what I am about to read from Dr. Copland’s book, as part of my speech, is a true description of convulsions that are not idiopathic or traumatic, but of a general kind. He first gives the definition of “general convulsions,” which he says are “violent and involuntary contractions of a part or of the whole of the body, sometimes with rigidity and tension (tonic convulsions), but more frequently with tumultuous agitations, consisting of alternating shocks (clonic convulsions), that come on suddenly, either in recurring or in distinct paroxysms, and after irregular and uncertain intervals.” We will see what he says about it—“If we take the character of the spasm in respect of permanency, rigidity, relaxation, and recurrence as a basis of arrangement of all the diseases by abnormal action of involuntary muscles, we shall have every grade, passing imperceptibly from the most acute form of tetanus through cramp, epilepsy, eclompsia, convulsions, &c., down to the most atonic states of chorea and tremor. Also if we consider the affections called convulsions, and which are usually irregular in their forms, with reference to the character of the abnormal contraction of the muscles, we shall see it in some cases of the most violent and spastic nature, frequently of some continuance, the relaxations being of brief duration, or scarcely observable, and in others nearly or altogether approaching to tetanic. These constitute the more tonic form of convulsions, from which there is every possible grade, down to the atonic or most clonic observed in chorea or tremor. The premonitory signs of general convulsions are, inter alia, vertigo and dizziness, irritability of temper, flushings or alternate flushing and paleness of the face, nausea, retching or vomiting, or pain and distension of the stomach or left hypochondrium, unusual flatulence of the stomach and bowels, and other dyspeptic symptoms. In many instances the general sensibility and consciousness are but very slightly impaired, particularly in the more simple cases, and when the proximate cause is not seated in the encephalon; but in proportion as this part is affected primarily or consecutively, and the neck and face tumid and livid, the cerebral functions are obscured, and the convulsions attended by stupor, delirium, &c., or pass into or are followed by these states. The paroxysm may cease in a few moments, or minutes, or continue for some or even many hours. It generally subsides rapidly, the patient experiencing at its termination fatigue, headache, or stupor, but he is usually restored in a short time to the same state as before the seizure, which is liable to recur in a person once affected, but at uncertain intervals. After repeated attacks the fit sometimes becomes periodic (the convulsio recurrens of authors). The most common causes are, inter alia, all emotions of the mind which excite the nervous power and determine the blood to the head, as joy, anger, religious enthusiasm, excessive desire, &c., or those which greatly depress the nervous influence, as well as diminish and derange the actions of the heart, as fear, terror, anxiety, sadness, distressing intelligence, frightful dreams, &c., the syphilitic poison and repulsion of gout or rheumatism.”

Serjeant Shee

Now, do you believe that if Dr. Taylor had read that before he went to the inquest he would have dared to say that this man died of strychnia poison? Is there one single symptom in the statement made in the depositions of Elizabeth Mills and Mr. Jones which may not be classed under one of the varieties of the degrees of convulsions which Dr. Copland describes? Now, it is not for me to suggest a theory, but the gentlemen whom I shall call before you, men of the highest eminence in their profession, not mere surgeons of hospitals who never see anything hardly except it is of that nature, that is, of the traumatic kind—gentlemen, do not suppose that I should be capable of speaking disrespectfully of Sir Benjamin Brodie, or of any of the gentlemen called except in terms of the highest respect; but they are surgeons of hospitals, and obtain a certain experience as to those misfortunes under which, through violence, the human frame suffers; who have not so much opportunity of witnessing and of knowing the symptoms of the class of convulsions which constantly attack people in their own residences in the dead of the night—those convulsions which heads of families and brothers and sisters are most anxious to conceal from anybody but the medical man—those convulsions, the known existence of which deprives a young woman of the hope, or a young man of the hope, of marriage. It is the men who have that sort of experience—the general practitioners—men who enjoy the entire confidence of numerous families, and have the opportunity of visiting, in the way of their profession, the poor at their lowly dwellings, suffering under sudden convulsions when affected by serious disease—those are the men that we want to tell us about convulsions. Do not let me mislead you for a moment—the evidence I have read to you is not the whole of the evidence of Elizabeth Mills. There is her evidence, differing in some material particulars from the evidence given by her before the coroner. As to Mr. Jones, the evidence does not so much differ, though there may be some particulars in which there is a difference—and there is one remarkable one. He said in his depositions, “The body was resting on its head and its heels”; but in his evidence he says, “It was so bent that if it had been turned on its back, it would, or might, have rested on its head and its heels”—that is, if it did not rest on the back; but he in substance says it did. Mr. Bamford says he found it resting on its head, its back, and its heels, thereby excluding the supposition that a part of the body was not supported by the back. However, before I go to that, perhaps you will permit me to call your attention to the symptoms of traumatic disease. My belief is, and I submit it to you, and it is what I shall hope you will confirm by your verdict, that this complaint was not strychnia tetanus at all, but it was, according to this description—the description to which I will call your attention—it may well have been some form of traumatic tetanus or idiopathic tetanus—there being no broad general distinction or certain confine between idiopathic or self-generating tetanus, or tetanus not arising from any extreme hurt or any violence to the interior part of the system; and many forms of convulsions, that is tetaniform, are pretty much the same as idiopathic tetanus, and we have had numbers of medical gentlemen who have told us they never saw a case of idiopathic tetanus. The answer to that is, you have had very limited experience. They are not very frequent; but there are gentlemen here who have seen cases of idiopathic tetanus, and they are not of such unfrequent occurrence by any means. There is one gentleman who is here, and whom I will call before you—a gentleman who attended at the bedside of the lady at Leeds who was suffering under strychnia, who has himself seen four cases of idiopathic tetanus; and there are other gentlemen here who have seen them also—they are not so rare, but they very rarely fall under the notice of surgeons of hospitals; they are not so frequent as traumatic tetanus. Cases of traumatic tetanus do frequently supervene from the operations of the surgeons themselves; sometimes after operations, however skilfully performed, a lockjaw is the consequence. The persons to give you information on the subject are the general practitioners.

Serjeant Shee

Now, we shall see that none of those symptoms which were spoken to on the day of the inquest by Elizabeth Mills and Mr. Jones may not range under one of these forms of tetanus, the idiopathic or traumatic. The idiopathic mingling in all directions with general violent convulsions is not to be distinguished from them, inasmuch as convulsions have constant tetaniform appearances; and the meaning I take it of that is this, it is true, as Dr. Watson says in a passage which I called to the attention of one of their witnesses—it is true that in four cases out of five traumatic tetanus begins with a seizure of the lower jaw, unless, as Sir Benjamin Brodie tells us, it may begin, as it did in two cases which he attended many years ago, in the limbs. He told us so when he was here; it began there before it attacked the jaw; but generally trismus or lockjaw is the first symptom. But there is a fifth case in which it is not, and Mr. Curling told us that that was about the proportion—four out of five; so that even traumatic, or that kind of tetanus which sets in after a wound, does not always begin with some affection of the jaw or neck. Now, gentlemen, having gone so far, and having endeavoured to satisfy you that the symptoms which were spoken to by those two witnesses on the depositions may be the symptoms, as I think—that is to say, as I am told, having no experience of my own in the matter—that these symptoms are rather referable to that violent description of general convulsions than to any form of tetanus, let us go to the question, whether or not the symptoms are consistent with what we know of tetanus produced by strychnia, because if we are satisfied on a full inquiry that they are not consistent with the symptoms unquestionably produced by strychnia tetanus, then the hypothesis of the Crown entirely fails, and John Parsons Cook cannot have died of strychnia poison.

Now, gentlemen, whether that be so or not will depend in a great degree, as it strikes me—but, of course, it is entirely for you—on what you think of the evidence of Elizabeth Mills; but before I go to the evidence of Elizabeth Mills I will call your attention to what the description of strychnia tetanus is, as given us by two very eminent gentlemen who were called the other day for the Crown—Dr. Taylor and Dr. Christison; and if we find on looking at it that that description of the poison of strychnia tetanus, given by them, is a different thing from the picture first given of the complaint, of the paroxysms of John Parsons Cook by Elizabeth Mills and Mr. Jones, I think it would be rather too bad on their mere opinion to say that this is strychnia tetanus. Let us take Dr. Taylor’s description of strychnia tetanus—I am not sure whether Dr. Taylor stated he had ever seen strychnia tetanus in the human subject; however, we must be just to Dr. Taylor. Dr. Taylor has had an extensive reading upon the subjects upon which he writes, and it is not to be supposed that Dr. Taylor would hastily set down in his book what he did not find established on high authority; therefore, though having it at second hand, Dr. Taylor knows something upon the subject.

Serjeant Shee

Now, Dr. Taylor, in his work on strychnia poison, has this under the head of strychnia, “that from five to twenty minutes after the poison has been swallowed the patient is suddenly seized with tetanic symptoms, affecting the whole of the muscular system; the body becomes rigid, the limbs stretched out, and the jaws so fixed that considerable difficulty is experienced in introducing anything into the mouth.” On both the depositions and the other evidence it is stated that Mr. Cook was sitting up in bed, beating the bed-clothes, frequently telling the people about him to go for Palmer, asking for the remedy, and willing to take whatever was given him; there was no considerable difficulty in introducing anything into the mouth, and the paroxysms, instead of beginning within from five to twenty minutes after the poison was supposed to have been swallowed, did not begin for an hour and a half afterwards. Dr. Taylor further on states, “After several such attacks, increasing in severity, the patient dies asphyxiated.” That there were some of these symptoms in this case there can be no doubt, and there will be some of them in every case of violent convulsions, yet it is not the description of such a case as that of John Parsons Cook. Now, let us see what Dr. Christison says—“The symptoms produced by strychnia are very uncommon and striking—the animal begins to tremble, and is seized with stiffness and starting of the limbs. Those symptoms increase till at length the animal is attacked by general spasms.” Is that the description of either of these paroxysms? Who can say with any degree of truth that it is? Just observe these last indications of strychnia tetanus, which are consistent with all the cases stated in their books. It is only justice to those gentlemen who have taken pains to look to the authorities to which they refer to say that the statements which they give of their cases are in the main correct, but not in all their details. The books would be five times their size if they were; but they are in the main correct, when we look to the foreign authorities on which they are founded—“The fit is then succeeded by an interval of calm, during which the senses are impaired or are unnaturally acute; but another paroxysm soon sets in, and then another and another, until at last a fit occurs more violent than any that had preceded it, and the animal perishes suffocated.” I know exactly what Dr. Christison means by this, because there is a gentleman here who will state an experiment which I saw myself; it was an experiment, and for the purpose of this case, and to assist me; and I disagree with Dr. Taylor that there can be a moment’s hesitation in sacrificing ten or twenty dogs for the purpose of ascertaining the truth of this theory when a man’s life is involved. These experiments were performed by Dr. Letheby while I was there. I will state them to you, because he will prove it by and by. A dog had some strychnia put in his mouth, one grain, and then for about—I cannot be sure as to the time exactly, but about twenty or twenty-five minutes—I cannot be sure, it might not be so much—the dog was perfectly well. There were two rabbits on the table which were also about to be subjected to the operation, and the dog, when the chain was sufficiently relaxed to enable him to do so, showed all the indications which a dog naturally does to get at the rabbits; he was pulling at his chain, and was smelling and pawing and taking an interest in the rabbits; suddenly it fell down on its side, and its legs were stretched out in a most violent way. It panted, and then it remained for some time—two or three minutes—quiet, occasionally a little jerking, but generally quiet. It recovered again for a time, got up and looked at the rabbits, but was dizzy, seemed afraid to move; and, if you touched it, shuddered and twitched, to use Miss Elizabeth Mills’ description; seemed to be afraid, and after another moment down it went again. It got up again, and down it went again, and at last it had a tremendous struggle, and it died. That is what Dr. Christison means by this description; it would be true if the dose had been a strong one. If the dose had not been sufficient to kill the dog it would probably be a longer time—at least, I suppose so—in producing its effect, and the interval between the paroxysms, as stated by Dr. Taylor and Dr. Christison, would get longer and longer, until at last the animal would recover. If the dose is strong enough to kill, the interval between the paroxysms is shorter, till at last the violent one comes which destroys life; the eyes are fixed, and there it lies, and just before its death—and I thought it was dead, but I was told immediately before its death—just before it dies, the limbs become as supple and as free as it is possible to conceive the limbs of an animal to be; whichever way you placed them after the animal is quite dead, if you place them in any form, the rigor-mortis comes on, and they remain in the position in which you place them. Dr. Christison says they assume rigidity. I saw this operation performed, and also on the two rabbits, and their symptoms were substantially the same, and their limbs in both cases were quite as flaccid immediately on death. The animals during the time of the intervals between the paroxysms were exceedingly touchy, and seemed afraid of being touched at all; if you were to touch them they would shrink away. It was more so in the dog; it was, in fact, a sort of shudder—that is what Dr. Christison means.

Serjeant Shee

Now, gentlemen, without going through the whole of these details, I will state to you my reasons for saying, on the authorities and from my study of the books of those two gentlemen, that, according to their principles, this cannot have been strychnia poison. Now, I object to the theory of its being strychnia poison, first, on this ground, that no case can be found in the books in which the patient while the paroxysm lasted has had so much command over the muscles of animal life and voluntary motion as Mr. Cook had on the Monday and Tuesday nights. You heard that Mr. Cook was sitting up in his bed, that Mr. Cook was beating the bed-clothes, that Mr. Cook was talking and crying out for Palmer, and to have the remedy given to him; that Mr. Cook, so far from being afraid of people touching him, asked to have his neck rubbed, and it was rubbed. There is not a single instance in the books of Dr. Taylor, or in the books of Dr. Christison, or any other books of any medical man describing the symptoms of the strychnia poison, in which the well-known symptoms the malasaux took place—not one, and it is inconsistent with their description, and what I tell you will be the proof Dr. Letheby will give of the experiment that I saw, and of many others he had performed.

Serjeant Shee

I will go to the next point on the ground of which I say this is not strychnia poison. I say there is no authentic case of tetanus by strychnia in which the paroxysms were delayed so long after ingestion of the poison as in this case. I will refer, however, to their own statements, knowing that they are here. (Extract from Dr. Taylor’s book read.) There was one case to which his attention was called; it was not a fatal one, but it got better, and still he says the symptoms were those which he described, and thought it was too late to get the poison out of the stomach, as in half an hour it had got into the circulation—what can be more clear? it is a broad, distinguishing feature in the strychnia. The interval which took place between the ingestion of the poison in Mr. Cook’s case and the time when the paroxysm commenced was much too long, three times too long, to indicate the effect of poison by strychnia. It cannot be pretended it was a similar case, if the symptoms are properly described, as I will presently call your attention to them, by Elizabeth Mills in her statement in this Court. Now, gentlemen, thirdly, I submit, and I will prove, that there is no case in which recovery from a paroxysm of strychnia poison has been so rapid as in Cook’s case on Monday night, or in which a patient has enjoyed so long an interval of repose or exemption from its symptoms after they had once set in. It is a very remarkable feature, if it be true—if I am right in saying that there is no case in which recovery has been so rapid as in Mr. Cook’s case on Monday night, followed by so long an interval of relief from the paroxysm. In fact, in the case of Mr. Cook’s, on the theory of the Crown, it would not have come on again if a second dose had not been given. There was an end of it when Elizabeth Mills left Palmer sleeping by the side of his friend in the arm-chair. How easy it would have been for him then, if he had been disposed, when Elizabeth Mills had gone to bed and had retired to her room, to have called out to her that Mr. Cook was in another fit, and to have killed him, almost without suspicion on the part of anybody. Dr. Christison tells us in general terms that these convulsions are succeeded by intervals of calm, during which the senses are unnaturally and unusually acute; another fit then begins, it subsides, and is succeeded by another and another, till at length a fit takes place more violent than any before it, and the animal dies suffocated. Here, I submit to you, is a distinction between the case of Mr. Cook and that which these gentlemen state to be the distinguishing feature, in that there is no recurrence.

Now, I will come to another feature of the disease, the post-mortem symptoms of the disease. I saw three animals killed, of which I have spoken to you, and Dr. Letheby was good enough to have dug up from his garden a rabbit which had been killed by strychnia, and to open it before me, to examine the heart, and the heart was full; the heart of the dog was quite full, and the hearts of the two rabbits which I saw killed were quite full—as full as they could possibly be. I am told that the result of an enormous proportion of such examinations has been, and, if properly conducted, of all of them, that the heart is full on the right side invariably. We will prove to you that the heart of the animal which was killed by strychnia poison is invariably full, and it stands to reason it would be so.

Serjeant Shee

Now, I have discussed what may be said for this purpose to be the theory of the matter, but I have not yet met the strong point which will be made for the Crown on the evidence of Elizabeth Mills. I am, on all occasions, most reluctant to attack a witness examined on his or her oath, and particularly if she be in a humble position. I am very reluctant to impute perjury to such a person. Let me point out to you what occurs to me to be the right opinion to be formed of the evidence of Elizabeth Mills. I submit to you in this case of life and death, or in any one case involving any question of real importance to liberty or to property, that that young woman’s evidence cannot and would not be regarded in the ordinary administration of justice when on material points she has stated two different stories. A jury can really hardly believe such a witness, and in criminal cases the learned judges are, without altogether rejecting the evidence and withholding it from the jury, in the habit of pointing out to the jury the discrepancies between the statements given at different times, and saying that under all the circumstances of the case it would not be safe to rely on the testimony in the last instance, if it differ from, and probably is more strongly adverse to, the party accused than the statements made when the impression was fresh in the witness’s mind. Now, observe that since the first time that she gave her evidence she has had the means of knowing what the case of the Crown is. She has had the means of knowing—I do not mean to say she has been tutored by the Crown—it would be a gross injustice to say so; and I know if my learned friend thought that had been done he would not have called her—or by any of the gentlemen who act for the Crown; but since she was examined at Rugeley she has had the means of knowing, by interviews she has had with different people, that the case of the Crown is, that Palmer, having first prepared the body of Cook for deadly poison by the poison of antimony, afterwards despatched him with the deadly poison of strychnia. She has learned that their case is, that there was an administration of something which did not eventually kill him, that is, antimony, but which had the effect of producing retching, and nausea, and irritation of the stomach, which is attributed, according to the hypothesis of the Crown, to the deliberate, persevering intention of the prisoner at the bar to reduce him bit by bit—making him reject everything off his stomach, so that when once the ingestion of the poison occurred he was certainly dead; that is the case. In her first evidence before the coroner she was asked whether she had tasted the broth, and she said that she had tasted the broth, and thought it very good; she did not say a single word about any ill effects that broth had produced upon her—not a single word. She has since learned it is part of the case for the Crown, or of those out of whose hands the Crown has taken this prosecution—in fact, the theory of Dr. Taylor—that all this retching and vomiting was the result of a constant dosing with antimonial poison, in order to prepare him for an utter inability to resist the fatal dose of strychnia which it was intended to give him. Accordingly, when she is examined here, fitting her evidence to the case, and probably after having been asked many times whether she had not been sick on some Sunday or another, she has persuaded herself, if she has not been persuaded—I do not wish to use the word suborned—that her sickness on some Sunday afternoon took place on the Sunday afternoon that broth was sent, and was caused by her having taken two spoonfuls of it. She did not say so in the first instance before the coroner, but that “she tasted it, and it was very good.” I ask you to consider for a moment whether it is not to the last degree improbable that a man like Palmer—a shrewd, intelligent, clever man—would expose himself to such a chance of detection as the sending of poisoned broth made at the Albion to the Talbot Arms, at the imminent risk of its finding its way to the kitchen, where, sure as fate, the cook would taste it. Can you conceive a cook not tasting broth made by another cook, and sent over as particularly good? I submit to you it was such a risk as no man in his senses could by any possibility run. A cook is, in the nature of the thing, a taster; she tastes everything; she does not know, of course, if it be her own making, whether it is good until she tastes it; she gets the habit of tasting—and as sure as Palmer sent the broth to the Talbot Arms, and any part of it reached the kitchen, so sure, if it contained antimony, would the cook be ill. Is it credible? I submit to you, it is not credible; and when you find she did not say a word about it in the first instance, and that an ample opportunity was afforded for her so to do in the way I have described, I submit you cannot rely upon her evidence here, as it differs with her evidence before the coroner. Again, she said that on the Saturday Cook had coffee for breakfast about eight o’clock. “He ate nothing but he vomited directly he had swallowed it. Up to the time I had given him the coffee I had not seen Palmer.” When she gave that evidence she was not aware it was part of the theory of the Crown that the traces of antimony (which Dr. Taylor says might have killed him) were to be made to fit into the theory of the strychnia poison—that it was a gradual preparation, by vomiting, for strychnia. That chart of the country over which she was to travel had not been laid before her. She did not then know what at the time she came here she did know—that it was part of the case for the Crown.

Serjeant Shee

The Attorney-General opened the case in that way distinctly, that that was the theory for the Crown; “that Palmer had ordered some coffee for Cook on the Saturday morning; it was brought up by the chambermaid, Elizabeth Mills, and given to Cook by Palmer, who had an opportunity of tampering with it before giving it to Cook.” That was the statement which the Attorney-General was instructed to make. There is all the difference between her first statement, that up to the time she had given the coffee to Palmer for Cook, and that Palmer had an opportunity of tampering with it. The young woman would not go so far as that, but she went to this extent—“Palmer came over at eight o’clock—ordered a cup of coffee for Cook—I gave it to Cook—I believe Palmer was in the bedroom—I put it into Mr. Cook’s hands, but I did not see him drink it—I observed afterwards the coffee had been vomited.” The statement thus made by her before you was not so strong as that of the Attorney-General, but, on the other hand, it was a great deal stronger than the statement she made before the coroner, because, according to her story then, Palmer had not an opportunity of dealing with it—she “did not see Palmer up to the time she had given him the coffee.” From the statement which she made here you might suppose that Palmer, if he had chosen, might have got the coffee from Cook—but that is in the last degree improbable—and have done what he wanted to do with it; for she says, “Palmer came over at eight o’clock and ordered a cup of coffee, and that when it was made she took the coffee up into the bedroom and gave it into Cook’s hands” (she believed Palmer was there), “but she did not see him drink it, and afterwards she observed the coffee had been vomited.” These two statements, the one before the coroner and the other before you, are essentially different, and the difference between them consists in this, that the last one supports the theory now set up on the part of the Crown, while the first one is totally inconsistent with it. Can you rely on a woman who has altered her testimony to such an extent? But that is not all; the case for the Crown is that Cook was reluctant to take the pills which were given to him, and that he expressed a reluctance which Palmer of his own head overruled, and that Palmer knew that Cook was angry with him, or, at all events, displeased with him, for forcing him to take the pills. In the first statement of Elizabeth Mills before the coroner she said Cook said it was “the pills that made him ill, and that he had taken the pills about half-past ten.” When she came here she swore that Cook said “the pills which Palmer gave him at half-past ten made him ill”; thereby, you see, fixing the fact that Palmer gave him the pills, and fixing the time at which Palmer gave them to him, she having had an opportunity of learning that the later the pills were given the more favourable it would be to the suspicion that death had been occasioned by this poison. Before the coroner she did not say that Palmer was in Cook’s bedroom between nine and ten o’clock on the Monday night, but she did when she was here. You will see that makes him more about the bedside of Cook, having more opportunity of dealing with the pills. By these variances from her first statement she shows the animus which now, for some reason or other, actuates her. Perhaps it has been the result of the persuasion that Palmer was the murderer of Mr. Cook, as Dr. Alfred Swayne Taylor swore he is, and of her horror of so great a crime; that gives it the just, charitable construction; still, I say, she is not to be relied upon. I have mentioned the particulars in which her statements vary, but these are nothing to the important particulars to which I will now call your attention. I impeach her testimony on the ground that she adopted here a manner and a gesticulation in describing the symptoms under which Cook laboured which, if true, would have exhibited itself at the inquest, and would have at once attracted the attention of Dr. Taylor. The contortions into which she put her hands, and her neck, and her mouth, before you, could not by any possibility have escaped the attention of Dr. Taylor. If anything like it took place there it would have been observed by him, and questions would have been put to reduce, so to speak, those gesticulations into verbal expressions, that they might be recorded in the depositions. But that is not all. I am told, and you will have an opportunity of hearing it from Mr. Nunneley, Dr. Letheby, Dr. Robinson, and other eminent medical men, that the description of the symptoms which she gave to you is inconsistent with any known disease—that they were grouped by her in a manner so extraordinary as to be quite inconsistent with strychnia tetanus.

Serjeant Shee

Let me call your attention to this part of the evidence. You are aware that in the months of February (the last week of February) and March a very frightful case of strychnia poisoning occurred at Leeds. It was a case in which a person, having constant access to the bedside of the patient, was supposed to have administered repeated small doses of strychnia so as not at once to strike her down, but gradually to destroy her; and that after having kept her in a state of irritation for a lengthened period, he at last consummated the work and killed her. That was the case. It appeared in all the newspapers. The nurse who attended the patient and the medical gentlemen spoke of symptoms which she exhibited from the 24th or 25th February to the 1st of March, and they described it in this way—She had “prickings” and “twitchings” in the legs, coming on without any violent paroxysms or spasms, and was alarmed at the thought even of being touched by anybody in the intervals of the spasms which occurred from time to time. Now, let me call your attention to the evidence before you of Elizabeth Mills. She says, “He said, ‘I cannot lie down’; his body and neck were moving and jerking; he would throw himself up, jumping and jerking all over his body all the time; he asked me to rub his hands; I noticed him to ‘twitch’ while I was rubbing his hands.” (The learned serjeant read a portion of the evidence.) Now, I submit to you that some of these expressions, particularly the twitching, are very remarkable; and it may well have been that, this case coming before the public and exciting no little degree of attention, although not to the same extent as this Rugeley case, persons who had been in the habit of going to see her and conversing with her may have been asking her questions about this case, of which she admitted she had heard, “Did you observe in Cook any such symptoms as these?” her attention being called to them in such a way as to induce her to alter the statement made by her at the inquest. You cannot, indeed, account, as I submit to you, for so remarkable a difference between the first and second statements, without supposing something of that kind. Now, is it improbable that that did take place? From the time she left the Talbot Arms till she came here she seems to have been a person of very remarkable importance. She went to Dolly’s, and Mr. Stevens visited her six or seven times. Why did he visit here? What for? Mr. Stevens is unquestionably—and if under proper self-restraint, no one can blame him for it—very indignant at what he fears to have been the foul play of Palmer with Cook. He is not in the same condition of life as Elizabeth Mills. Why should he have gone to visit her six or seven times, conversing with her in a private room? She says, “He only came to see whether I liked the place; he called to inquire after my health.” Gardner also, his attorney, saw her once, but only asked her how she was, and they talked about other things. She said she gave the last authentic account of her evidence to a man she did not know—whom she had never seen before; and when I found out, after much questioning, that Mr. Stevens was with him, and asked her why she had not told me so, her answer was, “Because you never asked me.” That raised a laugh, and she enjoyed her triumph. All this looks like having been tutored. I put it to you that you cannot, with any degree of satisfaction, rely on the evidence of the young woman; and you will learn that the confusion and the variety of the symptoms she has put together, taking them partly from her depositions and partly from this new version, have made the case which she described not only not a case of tetanus, but not of any known disease.

Serjeant Shee

Now, on this part of the case I have this observation to make; the illness of the Sunday night appears to have been a very remarkable occurrence. It came out in the course of the examination, as a fact spoken to by Cook, and it will be for you to judge, after you have heard the evidence of the medical gentlemen, whether the periodicity of the attacks does not militate against the theory of death by strychnia poison. The illnesses of Cook take place three nights running, exactly at the same time, or if not exactly at the same time, very nearly. I find that is a symptom of very frequent occurrence, that about the same hour of the night, or of the week, or of the month, and very often after the patient has got to bed, the thing occurs. It is about the same hour in this case of Mr. Cook’s. On the question whether the symptoms were such as are consistent with the theory of strychnia poison, and inconsistent with the theory of death from other and natural causes, I have only now further to state what I intend to prove. I will not go through in detail what will be better stated by the gentlemen who will be called; but I shall call a number of most respectable physicians, surgeons, and general practitioners, having extensive experience in our large cities, who all support the view I have to submit to you, and which they have suggested to me as the probable one—that these fits of Mr. Cook were not tetanus, but violent convulsions, the result of the weak habit of his body, which had been increased by his mode of life.

I propose now to discuss the question whether the circumstantial evidence against Palmer be such as to be inexplicable on the supposition of his innocence, and if I show you on the broad and salient features of the evidence that it is not (you will not expect me to go into the more minute details), and I have succeeded in satisfying you on any considerable portion of the points to which I have directed your attention, and if the evidence comes up to what I have been instructed to say it will, you will be too happy, recollecting that you are the country in the language of the law—that the country out of doors, in a case of crime, of life and death, is uninformed, without the opportunity of hearing the witnesses examined or cross-examined on their oaths to decide between the Crown and the Queen’s subject on the evidence alone. Every word of this evidence will be carried to all the ends and corners of the earth, and it will remain to be seen whether this great country of England, in a paroxysm or convulsion of prejudice, created by the rashness of one scientific man who had no knowledge of his own about the matter, has made up its mind to sacrifice the life of a fellow-creature under circumstances which would expose any person who has ever been present at deathbed convulsions liable to the same charge.

I say the circumstantial evidence in this case is not such as to justify you in coming to a conclusion of the guilt of the prisoner. I will endeavour in this part of the discussion to address myself to those portions of the case which seem at the first blush of them, and on judicial consideration of them, to require notice. I will not avoid anything that is difficult or that may seem to you difficult, so that when I sit down you will see that I have discussed this great argument fully and fairly in every branch of it, and ask yourselves, what ground is there for any verdict but a verdict of “not guilty”? I will avoid nothing, and proceed at once to one of the most salient points. I will pass over, after an intimation that was made from the bench, the point about pushing the man at the inquest, or the accident of a slit in the covering of the jar, which, sharp instruments being used by the operators, may easily have occurred, or the putting it in a further corner of the room, from which there was no possibility of its being removed. I do not believe that any such circumstances as these would induce you to come to a conclusion against the prisoner.

Lord Campbell—No member of the Court, I think, has intimated any opinion as to the other portions of the case; merely as to the pushing.

Serjeant Shee

Mr. Serjeant Shee—I do not wish to suggest anything which is not strictly correct, and perhaps I ought not to use what was intimated from the bench in any way, but rather submit that, where everybody perfectly well knew Palmer, in any little apparent shove, so to speak, during the course of the post-mortem, is not to be taken as an evidence of his guilt. It was in leaning over, if at all, to observe an examination of considerable interest to all persons present, and I cannot conceive that anything of this kind can be taken into consideration. No serious complaint was made at the time. Mr. Devonshire said nothing was lost by it. He said also the jar was removed to a corner of the room. It was not removed out of sight. It was in the broad daylight. It was impossible it could be taken away without observation. It would be absurd that Palmer should be suspected of having done so with an improper object. This we know, that he was very reluctant to have the jar removed out of the possession of those on whom he could rely. That is very true; there were some persons who did not want to pay him £13,000; there were some persons who had been doing all they could to undermine his character for a very considerable time, imputing to him the most wicked conduct respecting a near relation, which none of his own relations ever joined in, knowing that there were many persons at Rugeley much prejudiced against him, and it was in his judgment of the last importance that anything which could be brought against him (and it was clear that this post-mortem, from the conduct of Stevens, was intended to found a charge against him), should be kept in unsuspected custody, and that nobody should have an opportunity of tampering with it and its contents. When told that Dr. Harland is coming to make the post-mortem, he says, “I am glad of that, for there is no knowing who might have done it; and it is a satisfaction that you, whom I do know, are coming to superintend it.” I say that was the conduct of a respectable man, who knows that his conduct would bear investigation if it were properly inquired into. But we know also that in a town like Rugeley there were a great many serious people, who could not approve of his habits of life, to whom his running about to races would not much recommend him, and whom he has reason to know would not very much regret any injury which might happen to him.

Serjeant Shee

Is there any other part of his conduct connected with the post-mortem which requires explanation? When the jar was going to be sent to town he objects to its going to Frere’s. He had some reason for that. He had an assistant in his service who had been in the service of Frere. We know the jealousies that exist in country towns between professional men. We will not do Mr. Frere the injustice to suppose he would do so great a wrong to Palmer as might result from tampering with the contents of the jar; but still it was right to be cautious, and Palmer told Dr. Harland, “I want you to take it with you to Stafford, and not let it go to Frere’s house.” In these minor incidental matters his conduct appears to me perfectly consistent with innocence. Let me call your attention to this more important matter, on which my learned friend in his instructions was told to rely—and accordingly he did, in the discharge of his duty, rely upon it. I will call your attention to what has been stated by Myatt, the postboy. His evidence was pressed into the case; it could not well be excluded from it as an evidence of guilt. Now, what did it amount to? Before I have done, under the general head of Palmer’s conduct, I will call your attention to what passed between him and Stevens. You will find the conduct and deportment of the latter were such as would make some men almost kick him; it was so very provoking, supposing Palmer was innocent. He dissembled with him—pretended to take his advice—cross-questioned him—changed his tone upon him—now speaking to him mildly, now in a voice of menace—threatened him with a post-mortem examination—and evidently did the whole thing hostilely to him, as if he thought something wrong had taken place, and it was his duty not only to protect the property, but to see any person who had been guilty of foul play towards Cook brought to condign punishment. Stevens, after poring over the remains of the dead man at the post-mortem examination, was ready to leave Rugeley, and a fly was ordered for him and his companion, Mr. Boycott, in which they were to proceed with the jar to Stafford, and thence by rail to London. Now, if there were anybody base enough, either in support of a theory, in support of a reputation—God forbid that I should suggest that to the prejudice of Dr. Taylor!—if there were anybody capable of so great a wickedness as tampering with the jar, it might easily be done; and he was anxious to have it kept by Dr. Harland and not committed to the custody of Stevens. His conduct to Palmer had been vexatious and annoying in the last degree; the fly was being got ready after Palmer, we may suppose, had dined; and meeting the postboy Myatt, he asked him, according to Myatt, whether he was going to drive Mr. Stevens to Stafford. “I told him,” said Myatt, “I was. He asked me if I would upset them?” Now the word “them” was first used in this Court to designate the jars. There was only one jar at that time, so it could not be meant to apply to the jars; if used at all, which I think very doubtful for the reason I tell you—at least in a bad sense—it must have been applied to Mr. Stevens and his companion. And now just see if the facts in this case which are undoubted do not give a reasonable colour to that. Palmer (though I will show you his conduct to Stevens was exemplary in every respect, by putting the dialogue between them before you without making any comment on it) must have felt outraged beyond all expression if—knowing himself to be innocent, that he had acted as a friend and brother to Cook, and had called his relations about him when he was ill—he found himself suspected of stealing a trumpery betting-book, which he knew was of no use to any one, and charged of playing falsely and foully with the life of Cook. He had great cause to be vexed and irritated with Stevens, and that he was so is plain from what he said to Dr. Harland—“There was a queer old fellow,” he said, “who has been down making inquiries, who seemed to be suspicious of my having stolen the betting-book, which everybody knows can be of no earthly use to anybody.” It shows that his mind was impressed with the idea that he was wronged. He may be supposed, communing with himself, to say, “He has ill-treated me; he has encouraged suspicions which have been excited against me already, and which, if he persists in his course of bringing another charge against me in this matter, will probably render it impossible to get the money from the insurance company in time to rescue me from a position which may involve in ruin myself and some members of my family.” That was evidently the tendency of what Stevens was about. He meets this postboy and asks him if he is to be ready to drive the fly to Stafford; the boy says, “Yes, I am.” He said, “If I would upset them there was a £10 note for me.” He has been asked, “Had anything been said about the jars?” I submit to you the true construction of the story, if it occurred at all, is, that being under a feeling of irritation against Stevens, and using strong expressions with regard to Stevens, hearing he was going to Stafford, he said, “I should not mind giving £10 to upset him.” He had been vexed at his conduct, and irritated by the perpetual suspicions and inquisitiveness which he had displayed, even when he went up with him, like a friend, to show him the corpse, uncovering it down to the thighs. Some previous suspicion must have existed in Stevens’ mind; but Palmer had no suspicion of this thought that he was guilty of so foul a crime as that which was imputed to him. If that evidence be throughout true, it is only true in the milder and innocent sense, and I have this reason for saying so. This man was in the service of the landlord of the Talbot Arms, and was always about the yard; he was driving to and from the Talbot Arms every day of his life; he must have been there on the day of the post-mortem examination; he must have been a constant companion of the stable boys and labourers about the yard; and his observation must have been drawn to a thing so striking and remarkable as a post-mortem examination on account of a suspicion of murder. He was not called before the coroner; and nobody knew, at the time the inquest was held, that he had ever said anything which could be fairly taken in a sense which would make it evidence of a guilty mind in Palmer. But if he had said that Palmer said, “I should not mind giving a £10 note to have him upset; it is a humbugging concern,” and in that manner, and with the feeling I have stated, it would not have excited any observation or suspicion, and no one would have summoned Myatt to the inquest. I submit that is the true version of this story. It is not to be supposed that a medical man, knowing that he had given a large dose of strychnia, would suppose that, by the accidental spilling of a jar, the liver and spleen and some of the tissues continuing untouched, he could have escaped the detection of his guilt.

Serjeant Shee

Next I shall call your attention to the evidence of Charles Newton; he is a person who has sworn before you that he saw Palmer at Mr. Salt’s surgery at nine o’clock on the Monday night, and that Palmer asked for three grains of strychnia; that he weighed it, and gave it to him in a piece of paper; that is the first part of what he swore before you and my lords. Now, I should tell you how this case has been conducted. As soon as my learned friend the Attorney-General, as counsel for the Crown, was made acquainted with the illness of my learned friend Mr. Serjeant Wilkins, with his inability to conduct the defence and that I was to supply his place, he desired that every scrap of evidence against the prisoner should be forwarded to me, and to my learned friends near me; and, accordingly, as soon as he received this evidence of Newton he forwarded it to me, and I received it on the day this Court met. I believe it was sent to me late on the previous night, but I did not see it until the morning you were sworn; so that this witness Newton did not bring this matter that was in his knowledge of the fact of the purchase by Palmer at Mr. Salt’s surgery at nine o’clock on the Monday night of three grains of strychnia—he did not bring that to the knowledge of the Crown until the night before this trial commenced. Now, he had been examined at the inquest, and he did not tell before the coroner the rest of the story which he told when he was examined here. (The learned serjeant read the examination of Charles Newton.) He did not tell that to the coroner. All he told the coroner was that he was present when Palmer bought some strychnia off Roberts on the Tuesday night in the shop of Mr. Hawkins; he did not speak to the purchase of the strychnia on the Monday night; he knew that he was called to corroborate a statement which Roberts had made as to the presence of Palmer at the shop, and the purchasing of the strychnia on the Tuesday, yet he never said one word at that time either of the fact of Palmer having bought strychnia off him on the Monday night or of his having asked him what appearances, if a dog were killed by strychnia, would be exhibited on its post-mortem examination. A man who so conducts himself is utterly unworthy of credit. There is one honest, laudable motive in a Court of justice, and that is to assist in the administration of the criminal law of the land. If any man had the least hesitation when in Court, or to come into Court and take the oath to depose to what he knew were the facts, we should not be safe against crime for a moment. But you cannot justify the fact of swearing away another man’s life, except under a sense of duty, and for that object; and if a man, knowing that he is to be sworn touching so grave a subject as that of murder, the first time he takes the oath omits a considerable portion of what he knows, and three weeks afterwards tells another portion, and at a further interval comes forward and tells more—enough, in his opinion, to drive the guilt home to the man who is accused—the witness, I say, who conducts himself in that manner ought not to be believed. The prisoner who is convicted upon the evidence of such a man as that is sacrificed by a jury. But there are other circumstances in that statement which render it in the last degree improbable. That Palmer should, once in a week, purchase strychnia in the town of Rugeley is not to be wondered at. Strychnia is sold for many purposes, to kill dogs and vermin, and Palmer, as you may recollect, had often occasion to complain of the dogs from the slipping of the foals and the galloping of the mares. In the course of the evidence in this case it has been mentioned that strychnia was purchased by Palmer twice within the week, when the first time he had bought quite enough, and more, for the purpose imputed to him. But that a person should go and buy strychnia twice in a week in a small country town, having bought enough for all purposes the first time—that he should go and buy more the next day at the shop of a rival tradesman, with whom he was on bad terms—is to the last degree improbable. Common sense revolts at it; nobody can or ought to be believed who makes any such statements. Again, observe he had been to London on the Monday. In London there is no difficulty for a medical man to get anything of the sort which he may require. He has only to write it down in the technical way, so as to give evidence of a medical education, and it is given to him at once, without a word. He had been to London; and, again, if he could not get it there, he could get it at Stafford. Why should he get it at Rugeley? that is the last place that he would have gone to for it. It seems to me that it is equally impossible he ever could have bought it for such a purpose as the purpose attributed to him, and that he would have been, if really guilty, so unwary as to allow the paper in which the strychnia had been not to be found with the full quantity he had purchased in it; he would not have been such a fool as not to take care that the paper in which it was wrapped was full of strychnia before his house was searched, so as to make sure that it should be found that nothing should appear to have been used out of it, and that the exact quantity was in the paper. I submit, therefore, it cannot be believed—it is not credible!

I am now in a condition to satisfy you that Palmer was undoubtedly in town, and that he could not have been there at nine o’clock; that he was in London at a quarter-past three o’clock, and that he could not have been there by nine o’clock—the hours at which the trains start rendered it impossible. The thing is false—downright false. It is impossible to have got to Rugeley before a quarter-past ten, and we will account for what he did in a way that will entirely satisfy you. He attended the post-mortem examination, and is it credible that a skilful medical man, who has studied at the London hospitals, would have gone to that dolt Newton to ask him as to what would be the effects of strychnia on a dog’s stomach? Is it credible that he should go to that stupid sort of fellow, who gave his evidence in that dogged, mulish, sullen manner, which often is indicative of something else besides the want of understanding, and that he would have gone and asked a chap like that, “What are the effects of strychnia?” and then, when he had been told, he would snap his fingers and say, “All right.” It cannot be—it is impossible. No one would believe it; and I submit to you confidently that unless there is much stronger evidence than that, it is evidence on which you cannot rely for a moment. To show the animus of this Newton against Palmer, I will remind you of what he stated. Palmer said that “you will find that he has taken a great deal of mercury; you will find this ‘fellow’ died from a diseased throat.” When he is questioned about it mildly and quietly by my friend Mr. Grove as to what was the exact term used, he answers, “I do not know whether he said poor or rich”; just as if it could be a question of that kind. What we wanted to know was whether he had spoken of the poor dead man in a pitying way, or whether he had spoken of him as a disreputable person, unworthy of all consideration. As to that part of the case I will say no more, and I will proceed to other matters taking you back again to what occurred at Shrewsbury.

Serjeant Shee

The case for the Crown is, that as early as the 14th November, at Shrewsbury, the scheme—the plot—of poisoning commenced. That is the supposition of those from whom the case has been taken by the Crown. Now, it is suggested that on the night of Wednesday, the 14th, Palmer dosed this man Cook with something that he put into his brandy, and the witness Fisher told us that Cook told him so. If you remember the early part of my address to you, I read a few words at the end of a letter from Cook to Fisher, in which, after telling him it was of vast importance to him, as well as to Palmer, that £500 should be paid to Mr. Pratt, he adds in a postscript “I am better.” These words must have referred to his illness at Shrewsbury. The letter relates to another matter which is of great importance to him and to Palmer, and he does not seem to treat it as one having in his own mind a belief that Palmer had drugged him with poison for the purpose of destroying his health at Shrewsbury. Then, again, on the evidence, what does Palmer say himself about what occurred at Shrewsbury? He says, when it is mentioned, “Cook says I have put something in his glass; I do not play such tricks with people”—taking it as if it had been never understood otherwise than as a loose expression of a man, perhaps not actually drunk—the evidence does not go to that extent—though I think you will be of opinion he was very nearly approaching to that condition. I could not help being a little amused by a version which I read some time ago of this portion of the Shrewsbury plot. I will read it to you—“After indulging freely in the foreign wines of an English country town, 150 miles from London, the owner of ‘Polestar’ took to brandy and water to restore his British solidity. Tossing off his glass, he complained that there was something in it, for it burned his throat. Perhaps those who have drunk strong brandy and water with similar haste may have experienced the same sensation; perhaps also, like Mr. Cook, they may have vomited afterwards. He bolted his brandy and water down at Palmer’s challenge, and bolted it up again when it encountered the cold champagne. That night he was very drunk, and very sick, and very ill. His dinner he cast up into a basin; his money he deposited with his friend Mr. Ishmael Fisher, a sporting wine merchant, of Shoe Lane, Holborn. To this Mr. Ishmael Fisher the owner of ‘Polestar’ gave £700 to keep till next morning, expressing his belief, at the same time, that Palmer had dosed him for the sake of the money. If such had been Palmer’s intention, would he have left Cook at such a moment? He neither followed him from the room when his stomach rebelled, nor did he go near him all that night. This neglect showed, indeed, how hollow was his friendship, but it proves his innocence; guilt would have been much more officious. Next morning Cook looked very ill, as men are apt to do after excessive vinous vomiting; but his drunken suspicions of Palmer had evaporated with the fumes of the brandy, and they were again friends and brother sportsmen.”