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General Discussion / Re: AMELIA ELIZABETH DYER. Killing; murder. 18th May 1896.
« Last post by Forgotten Mother on June 11, 2025, 06:13:58 PM »JOHN TOLLER . I live at Reading, and am an engineer at the prison there—on Thursday night, April 2nd, about five or ten minutes to eleven, as I was returning home, I passed by the railway arch near the Rising Sun public-house—on the right-hand aide, going towards the station, I saw a woman coming towards me; she had just come from under the arch—I wished her "Good-night" as shepobsed—I saw her face; I recognised her; it was the prisoner—she was not coming on the way from the station to Kensington Road; it was on the way from the river.
Cross-examined. I said "Good-night" to her because I thought it was somebody I knew—she said nothing—I think it was on April 11th that it first came to my head that it was the prisoner I saw on April 2nd; that would fee nine days afterwards—I recognised her as a person I knew—very possibly I met several other persons on April 2nd—when I saw her again I recognised her—I did not go down Forbury Road; I crossed on the right-hand side, I live on that side; I crossed from the left to the right-hand side of the bridge; the bridge is on the left, and I live ou the right—I was close to the prisoner, we passed each other; we could have touched each other as we passed.
Re-examined. There was a gas lamp close to where I met her, a few yards on the other side of the road, and the Rising Sun was lighted.
JANE SMITH . I am a widow—up to June, 1895, I was an inmate of the Barton Regis Workhouse, near Bristol—I there became acquainted with the prisoner under the name of Dyer—she invited me to come out of the Union and live with her—she told me that she was going to do the same as she used to do, taking in babies to nurse—I consented to go and live with her—she first took lodgings at Bristol, and after remaining there a short time I moved with her to Cardiff, and there, on the platform, we met Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, and we lived together, first at one house at Cardiff and then at another—in August, 1895, the prisoner went to Reading, and shortly after I and the Palmers followed her, and we all lived together, first at Pigot's Road, and then at Elm Villas, and then at Kensington Road—I lived with her there up to the time of her arrest—on Tuesday morning, March 31st, she left Reading by an early train—she said she was going up to see Mr. and Mrs. Palmer—she took with her this carpet bag of Willie Thornton's, and some small baby clothes, and she took with her a piece of boiled ham for the Palmers, about seven or eight pounds weight—she returned on Thursday night, about half-past eleven—she did not bring back Willie Thornton's bag—she said she had left it behind for the purpose of Mrs. Palmer packing up little things, as they intended to go to Bridgwater to live, the whole of us, Mr. and Mrs. Palmer and myself, the little children and herself; she said she thought of going for about a fortnight—shesaid she was so late because she had lost two trains; on the platform there were so many people that came by railway that she could not come till they had put a special train on.
Cross-examined. When I met her at Barton Workhouse she did not tell me that she had come from Barton Asylum; she said it in the work-room; I heard her say it—she was kind to me sometimes; she was not particularly excitable; she got into tempers sometimes—she never threatened me—I was not at all afraid of her; she was not peculiar in. her habits, nothing whatever—she used to go out of an evening occasionally—aftergiving evidence before the Magistrate I went over to the gaol to see her—I told her that we wanted money, me and the children, and she gave me 10s.—she made no remark, only told the matron to give it me—she did not say, "Take care of it, for God knows where you will get any more"—she let me have several sums of money—I never heard her talking to herself.
Re-examined. She always kept the money, and paid for things and managed the house—she seemed a good woman of business when I lived with her—I asked her for money for myself and the children, Nellie, Oliver and Willie Thornton—Nellie was six, and Willie nine—Nellie had been with her about three months; Willie came when we were living at Elm Villas—Miss Butcher's girl was in the house at the time of the arrest; the mother had had a child, and took it away herself after the prisoner was arrested—I called the prisoner "mother."
HENRY SMITHWAITE . I am a labourer at Reading—on April 10th last I was assisting other people to drag the Thames there—on that afternoon, in the river, I found this carpet bag; about half-way across the foot bridge, across the Clappers, at Caversham, on the left-hand side, going from Caversham—it was sunk in about twelve feet of water; I fetched it up from the bottom—on getting it out I took it to the back of the lock-house at Caversham, and called Sergeant James—it was tied round with string at the top, with about three inches gaping open, and a piece of brown paper along the top of the contents—in my presence Sergeant James cut the string, and I saw in the bag the body of a female child; Sergeant James took out a brick—the bag was taken to the Police-station, and was found to contain the bodies of two children, one a male and the other a female—besides a whole brick there was also in the bag about three-quarters of a brick.
HARRY JAMES . I an a sergeant of the Borough Police at Reading—I was superintending the dragging of a portion of the river when the last witness found the bag—I accompanied him to the Police-station, and thence to the mortuary, which was close by—I there unpacked the bag,. and found in it the bodies of a male and female child, and these bricks—on the body of the female child was a diaper, which was identified yesterday by Miss Harmon—the male child had on a shirt, and a napkin wrapped over it—I was present when Miss Marmon identified the female child at the mortuary; I was also present when Mrs. Sergeant attended at the mortuary—the two bodies were shown to her, and she identifiedi the body of the male child as that of Harry Simmonds—I afterwards went to 76, Mayo Road, and there found some child's clothing, which was handed to me by Mrs. Palmer—among the baby clothing handed to me was this cardboard box, and the clothing in it, identified by Miss Marmon—the fawn pelisse was handed to me by Mrs. Palmer.
WILLIAM JAMES MORRIS . I am an M.D. and M.R.C.S., practising at Reading—on the morning of April 11th I went to the mortuary at Reading, and there saw the bodies of two children, oiale and female—there was a double mark round the neck of the female, like the mark of a tape or ligature, tied quite tight—I afterwards made a post-mortem of the body of that child—strangulation was the cause of death—the ligature caused the strangulation—I formed an approximate judgment that it had been dead about ten days—the ligature must have been tied tightly round the neck; there was not a very distinct mark where it was tied; it was more distinct in some parts than others, but nothing that I could identify as a knot on the body of the male child, I found a tape tied twice round the neck; it was tied in a bow—the cause of death in that case was strangulation by the tape—in that case death had been about ten days—there was a little less decomposition in that case.
Cross-examined. It is possible that in the case of the female death might have been caused by the tube of a feeding-bottle—I don't think it very likely, because it was an uneven-mark, and the tube would be more likely to make a more even mark—there is not much elasticity in tape—I can say the mark was made before death.
Re-examined. I believe the tape is about forty inches in length—I never saw the tube of a feeding-bottle that length—a ligature of this length would render an infant absolutely powerless at once—that throat was not constricted; in the male child it was quite constricted.
JAMES ANDERSON (Detective Constable, Reading). On April 6th I went to 76, Mayo Road—I found there a number of pawn-tickets, ten relating: chiefly to children's clothing—on the 15th I went to the prisoner's house, 45, Kensington Road, Reading—I there found fifteen pawn-tickets, chiefly relating to children's clothing—I found there a number of diapers, which have been identified by Miss Marmon—I found them in a brown paper parcel, among some dirty clothing which the prisoner said she bad brought from London the night previous—I found it contained twelve diapers, as well as some dirty linen.
ELLEN GIBBS . I am matron at the prison at Reading—I was in charge of the prisoner there when she wrote this letter—she asked me to send it to the police—I sent it to the governor—she said, "Now I have eased my mind"—I read the letter, and handed it back to her, and said, "A letter like this; you plead guilty to everything"; she said, "I wish to; they can't charge me with anything worse than I have done"; I said, "You are on remand; would you not like to send this letter later on?" she said, "Oh no, let it go—I sent it on to the governor—I afterwards saw her write this other letter, addressed to Arthur E. Palmer, who, at that time, was charged with being an accessory after the fact to some crime of hers, and was then in custody—I also sent that to the governor—that is a rule of the prison. The letters were read as Jollows: "April 16th. To the Chief Superintendent of Police. Sir,—Willyou kindly grant me the favour of presenting this to the Magistrate on Saturday, 18th inst.? I have made this statement out, for I may not have the opportunity then. I must ease my mind. I know my days are numbered, but I do know it is an awful thing to bring innocent people into trouble; but, as God Almighty is my Judge in Heaven as in earth, neither my daughter or her husband, I do most solemnly declare, had anything at all to do with it; they never knew I contemplated doing such a wicked thing until it was too late. I am speaking the truth; I alone must stand before my Maker in Heaven to give an answer for it. Witness my hand, EMILY DYER." "To Arthur E. Palmer, Thursday, April 16th, 1896. My Poor Dear Arthur,—Oh, how my heart aches for you and my dear Polly! I am send—this to tell you I have eased my mind, and made a full statement. I have told them the truth, that as God Almighty is my Judge, I dare not go into His presence with a lie. You will have a lawyer, but for myself it would only be throwing away money. I know I have done this dreadful crime, and I know I alone shall answer for it. I have just written a long letter, another to mother; also I have wrote out a true and faithful statement of everything. I hope God will give you strength to bear this awful trial.—Your broken-hearted mother, E. DYER. Let me just have one line Friday morning."I knew that the actual charge the prisoner was under on April 16th was that of murdering a child; I did not know it was the child of Miss Marmon—she was remanded over and over, and there was a fresh committal every time.
Cross-examined. While in the prison, under my care, she talked to herself—I don't think she was depressed, not anything particular—she was very low-spirited concerning Arthur Palmer being in custody.
Re-examined. The talking to herself continued, more or less, the whole time she was in prison—that is not unusual with a prisoner under arrest—I should say 90 per cent, do it.
Witnesses for the Defence.
FREDERICK THOMAS BISHOP LOGAN . I am a medical man, in practice at Bristol—on December 24th, 1893, I examined the prisoner at 114, Wells Road, Bristol—she was very violent, and suffering from delusions—she picked up the poker and rushed at me with it, and threatened to break my skull—she said she had heard voices telling her the whole time to destroy herself, that the birds said, "Do it, do it "; her daughter was present; she told me that she had been very violent, and had attempted suicide—I came to the conclusion that she was a person of unsound mind, and I gave a medical certificate under which she was taken to an asylum.
Cross-examined. I have not seen her from that time to this. I saw her on December 26th, when she was before the Magistrate—I had never seen her before the 24th; that was in reference to the lunacy proceedings—Iknow she was discharged from the asylum—I am not aware of the exact date, but it was somewhere in January—shewas very excitable and wild in her manner—I saw no other objective symptoms beyond what I have mentioned—I was sent to her by the relieving officer—I did not examine her eyes by the opthalmoscope, nor for action and reaction—I do not remember anyone else being present besides myself, Che prisoner, and Mrs. Palmer—she got hold of the poker—I had only been there a minute or so—I had not said who I was—Mrs. Palmer said I was somebody come to see her—I did not examine her particularly for drink; she had no symptoms of drink; if there had been I should have traced them—I was told to decide whether she was mad or not—I was not told before I had got there that she had attempted suicide—I was told so at the house by the daughter—I saw no marks of violence on her—when I first came into the room she was sitting down away from the table, not doing anything—she was nearer the fire—I was sitting down at the table, and going to ask her some questions, when she suddenly got out of the chair—I cannot remember wltether I had put questions or not—I made my note in the certificate the same day—I took notes at dietime, and copied them in the certificate on the 25th—she was on my left side—she would have struck me had I allowed her—I took the poker from her—she struggled a minute or so when I got hold of the poker, and after I had taken it away—then I got her to sit in a chair before I commenced to examine her—I stopped with her ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, it may have been more—I next saw her at the Magistrate's private house—we met there—I did not see her again—I bad heard nothing of the parent of a child coming after her.
Re-examined by MR. KAPADIA. From my examination I was satisfid she was a fit ana proper subject for an asylum.
By the COURT. Her delusions were when she heard voices in the air telling her to destroy herself, and that birds kept talking to her—distress, or fear would sometimes bring on that sort of insanity that I noticed—mental anxiety might upset the brain in such a way as to cause insanity—I do not think all her symptoms might have occurred from that—I think her conduct was due entirely to disease of the brain—I inquired about her antecedents—I learned she had been in an asylum before—I did not form my judgment from that—it may have formed an element—her daughter told me she had been four months in an asylum.
J. LACY FIRTH . I am a Doctor of Medicine, living at Clifton, Bristol—in May, 1894, I was in charge of the prisoner at the Bristol General Hospital—I was house surgeon there between April and May—the prisoner was brought there on April 26th—I saw her an hour or two after admission—she was reported to have attempted suicide by drowning—she was very cold—she was low-spirited—she was reported to be excited—I did not see her excited—there was difficulty in getting her to take food—I cannot remember being present then—she remained thirteen days—she was melancholy, but I do not go so far as to say she was insane—she said repeatedly she had something on her mind—it is impossible to remember what I said, but I tried to find out what was on her mind, but did not succeed—I wrote a letter to the Treasury about May 27th. (The letter was called for, but not produced.)
Cross-examined by MR. LAWRENCE. She was in bed when I saw her—she was shivering—she was discharged sound—a man came to the hospital, and in consequence of an interview I asked the prisoner some questions as to the address of a person—I asked her if she knew where a certain person lived whose name I have forgotten—that person was a woman, who had been mentioned to me by the man who had called at the hospital—she did not give me a plain answer, but I am certain, from what she did say, she knew something about that person—she said the person had lived in some street in Bath, which she mentioned—I was with the prisoner ten minutes, talking about the matter—I do not recollect how directly I mentioned it—the subject matter was that a child was lost—as near as I recollect, I asked her if she knew where such and such a child was—probably I mentioned the name—I found out she had had something to do with the child—I made no notes—she partly admitted having had the child; she obviously knew something about it.
WILLIAM FREDERICK BAILEY EDEN . I am a surgeon and licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons—I practise at Hambrook village—I live At Hambrook Court—on December 14th, 1894, I was called to examine the prisoner at Grove Cottage, Grove Road, Fishponds, upon an order sent by the relieving officer—I found she was very excited—when I went in she threatened to pitch me out—she wanted to know who had sent me there—I said I had come by order of the relieving officer—I kept quiet—I went as a stranger—I had very little conversation with her, she was in such a bellicose spirit; I heard what she had to say, and let her talk on, and in the end I came to the conclusion she was of unsound mind, and ought to be placed under control—I signed a certificate to that effect, on which she was sent to an asylum—her daughter and daughter's husband were there—her daughter said that she was suicidal, and had run after her with a knife, and that she was upset about some children—the prisoner rambled on—site said that God had forsaken her, and that she must do it, or that she will do it, or words to that effect—she did say the world was against her—I was with her about ten minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWRENCE. That was the first time I saw her—I saw her after she was discharged from the Gloucester Asylum in January, 1895, as recovered—the daughter told me the prisoner "had been in an asylum twice before—the daughter and her husband had applied to the relieving officer to have her removed—I saw no mark on her body of a suicidal attempt—the daughter told me the prisoner in tended to drown herself; that she had got up with that intention—I was told she had been in an asylum twice or three times before—I did not ask how long she had been in an asylum—she was not depressed, just the opposite—I did not ask her why she said God had forsaken her, and the world was against her—it might have been prudent to have asked her, but the daughter told me—if she had told me of her misfortunes I do not think that would have altered my opinion—she remained in the asylum about a month.
FORBES WINSLOW . I am an M.B. and LL.M. of Cambridge, a member of the Royal College of Physicians, London, Physician to the British Hospital for Mental Disorders, and Lecturer on Mental Diseases at Charing Cross Hospital—on the 15th inst. I examined the prisoner at Holloway Gaol—the first time I saw her Dr. Scott was present—I had a long interview with her—I had not read much about the trial, nor formed an opinion before I saw her—T asked her a great many questions; after that I considered she was a person of unsound mind, suffering from delusions and hallucinations—a delusion is a belief in something which has no existence apart from the diseased fancy, and may be objective or subjective—hallucination is to believe in the existence of something in the mind of the person; for instance, if a person hears a voice or sees a vision, and there is nothing to account for it—either might be delusion or hallucination—then there is illusion and subdivisions of illusions—the prisoner was suffering from insanity, from melancholia, insanity with delusions—there was no excitement, nothing beyond her depression and delusions—she made not the slightest attempt to feign insanity—I examined her, and came to the conclusion she was not shamming—there was nothing in her movements or in her conversation, apart from the absolute delusions which I elicited from her, that proved to my mind she was trying to put on any form of insanity or to exert her symptoms; if she had, it would be apparent, I presume; it would be evident on the surface, I imagine—I did not ask her, but she volunteered the statement that very often she got in a very depressed menial condition, that voices spoke to her and told her to take her own life, and that she had made several attempts to do that, but had been prevented—she said she frequently saw visions of her mother, who came to her; but that was my second interview, on the 19th—in the first, she told me she had been in Gloucester Asylum, that she had been cruelly treated, and placed in a padded room, and in consequence of that treatment she had a perfect right to take her own life—her memory was good for what happened years ago, but bad for recent events—that is common with people advanced in life, or from people suffering from melancholia—I should say it is a test of memory in melancholia—her memory was exactly what you would expect to find in its normal condition, but, still, it is a test—that symptom, taken with others, would show organic disease of the brain—it is, shown in a person over fifty—the prisoner is fifty-seven—I asked her if she had any recollection of the crime; she told me she had not, and when she tried to recollect she became mystified—I asked her if she could tell me the names of the two children who were drowned—her reply was she could not recollect the names—I have the questions and answers here—I asked her, "How many children were there?"—she said, "I cannot tell; I will try and think about it, but feel in a dream"—my first visit was an hour and a quarter, my second visit fifty minutes—I asked her whether she still heard voices speaking to her—her reply was, "Yes, every night"—I asked her how she had been since I hod last seen her on the 15th—she said, "I had a peculiar sensation lost night; I felt as if myself and my bed were passing through the floor"—I told her I had sten a letter from her son, who was in the Army, and that he was quite well—she answered, "That is very strange, because last night I was visited by the spirit of my mother and my boy"—I then, for the first time, asked her about apparitions, and about the visions to which she had alluded—I said "Will you please give me the nature of these visions that you see?"—she hesitated for a moment, then she said, "It is too horrible"—then she stopped for a moment, and seemed to contemplate, and then continued, "Oh, the sights and sounds are so horrible that I prefer to keep them to myself"—I pressed her—she then went on, "I had a fearful sensation the other evening; I thought I was handing my mother's bones from out her coffin"—she then went back to the question of her boy, to whom I had alluded, having received a letter that morning from him—she said, when the boy enlisted she was unconscious for three weeks, and when she woke up she fancied that the rats were crawling all over her—I then went back to the subject of the crime, and asked her when she first knew of the occurrence, the crime she was in custody for—her reply was, "On Easter Sunday or Easter Monday, or it might have been on Good Friday"—I said (referring to his notes), "Can you tell me anything, about the two children found in the river? how did you hear about it?"—she said, "I cannot tell; when I try to recollect dates I cannot do so. It might have been months or years; that is when I get mystified"—I said, "What were the names of these children?"—Mrs. Dyer thought for a time, and then replied, "I am sure I do not know. I cannot tell the names now"—I passed on to "When did you first hear about what had happened?"—her reply was, "Good Friday or Easter Monday, or perhaps it was Tuesday"—I asked her if she had not missed the children. Her reply was, "I cannot tell"; she never thought a bit about them—I asked her when she saw them last—she said she did not know—these are the chief things in the conversation I had with her—I formed my opinion, on examining her twice, that she is a person of unsound mind, and not responsible for her actions. (The COURT reproved the witness for making the latter observation, that being a question for tlie JURY.) I have heard the evidence given to-day—the transient or recurrent form of insanity is the most formidable of its kind—predisposition to an attack is greater in a recovered lunatic than in. one who has been always sane—it depends upon circumstances generally—she would be predisposed to an attack at any time—insomnia is a concomitant symptom of insanity, but not taken per se and not always.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWRENCE. The defence of insanity had been raised when I was first consulted, on May 14th—I got my instructions on the 15th—depression in a sane person, charged with murder, is not unnatural; I mean low-spiritedness—I put the question about the voices—that was the first I heard about them—she had not mentioned them till I put the question—I knew she had been in an asylum—she did not say she had been an attendant in an asylum—one question I put was, how she got her children when she had no children; she said she had been a monthly nurse, a surgical nurse, and a medical nurse—I put the question, "Do you ever see visions?"—I asked her, with regard to the voices, "Do they speak to you?"—that was the last question but three on my second visit—the first I heard about visions was on my second visit, about the voices I heard on the first—I should not have expected signs of excitement, because in melancholia and monomania there are no outward evidences of lunacy—excitement shows quite a distinct type of insanity from what I saw—the strain of being charged with a serious crime would be likely to shake the firmest nerves—I asked, "Do you ever see visions?"—her reply was, "Do not ask me"—I continued, and then pressed the question, "What do you see?"—her reply was, "I cannot tell you; that is why I keep awake at night; sounds and sights, and one thing and another; I keep it all to myself"—"Won't you give me some notion?"—she hesitated for a moment, then said, "My poor boy! my poor mother!"—"Do they ever speak to you?"—"Frequently; I hear them talking, telling me to come to them; my poor boy! my poor mother!"—and "I had fearful scenes last night I fancied I handled my mother's bones, picking them out of the coffin. When my poor boy went awny and enlisted I never slept for three weeks. I knew no one. I beat the rats off. Everything seemed to fly to my head, and I feel I want to fly to my boy"—it constantly happens that people with trouble conjure-up visions and dreams—the greater the trouble the more extravagant sometimes the vision—I am not surprised either way, if they have them or not—visions appear to people when they are wide awake and conscious; dreams cannot—melancholia would disclose itself by a tendency to suicide.
Evidence in Reply.
JAMES SCOTT . I am a Bachelor of Medicine and medical officer to the prison at Holloway—the prisoner has been under my observation since May 7th, a few days after her arrival there—I have seen her daily, and conversed with her—I have discovered nothing that is not consistent with her being sane, beyond her own statements of her Constant desire to commit suicide, and her memory of recent events being a total blank—I tested her memory by questions—she readily gave information about events which happened some years ago, more especially her being taken to the asylum, and her suicidal attempts—in the result I consider she has not been insane during the time she has been under my observation—she told me she had been an attendant at the Stapleton or Fishponds Asylum, near Bristol.
Cross-examined by MR. KAPADIA. It is possible for a lunatic suffering from homicidal mania to be free from excitement—it was not reported to me that she talked to herself in prison, and I have not heard her—I saw her myself once or twice every day, and received reports about her—I was inclined to look upon her as simulating insanity—I have heard her say she heard noises telling her to injure herself, not any other person—I considered her responses, conduct and other things, and the case in all its bearings; I do not see how I could directly test whether she heard voices or not—I could not find, as I should have expected, any evidence of her intention to commit suicide—she has not behaved in an insane manner—she has complained of pains in her head, and giddiness and weakness; I was present at the interview with Dr. Winslow—I heard the doctor's questions and her answers—possibly I may have passed a confidential opinion as between one man and another—a sane person might have made her answers, as if simulating insanity—some of them might be given by an insane person.
Re-examined. No answer was given to Dr. Winslow from which it would be safe to deduce insanity.
By the COURT. People commit suicide through trouble; suicide may attend insanity, or be committed independently of it.
GEORGE HENRY SAVAGE, M.D., M.B.C.P . I have had long experience in lunacy—I have been seventeen years Physician to St. Bartholo-mew's Hospital, Lecturer on Mental Diseases at Guy's Hospital over twenty years, author of a Manual on Insanity, and other publications—I saw the prisoner one hour at Holloway—I made a careful examination of her, and inquired into her past history—I came to the conclusion she was not mentally unsound—she told me she had been an attendant at an asylum—she said she did not recollect anything about the crimes of which she was accused—going back to the facts of her life, the doctors of asylums and institutions were perfectly clear in her memory she gave their names.
Cross-examined by MR. KAPADIA. I made a report—I say, "Having to-day seen the above prisoner at Holloway in the presence of Dr. Scott, the medical officer of the prison at Holloway, and having seen the news-paper reports of the trial, and the various reports as to her life's history, and her conduct before and after the trial, also the reports of her early history, I come to the following conclusions"—all the evidence influenced me as an unbiassed person—if the whole mass of premisses were wrong, ray conclusion would be wrong—I was informed of the crimes by the reports—I relied entirely in my judgment of her insanity upon my examination; the rest is a statement of facts to make perfectly clear the conditions under which I examined her—I say, "symptoms always of a transient nature"—that is not necessarily the worst kind of insanity—sometimes it is very formidable when it is sa called impulse—there was no evidence of that before me in this case—the evidence was that of statements of medical officers of asylums when admitted, when discharged, and statements, in case-books at asylums, of medical officers of those asylums—I should not say that such persons are generally liable tohomicidal mania—some who hear imaginary voices are liable to homicidal mania, not generally; those voices are of two distinct descriptions, some commanding, some merely indicating—the instances are not rare among those who commit crime—hearing voices and being impelled to do certain acts are symptoms of homicidal mania—one attack of insanity frequently predisposes for another, and if two or three, the person would be still more liable—the intention of violence or feeling would be dormant for awhile, or it would not be impulse—homicidal mania is not necessarily periodical—I should think so in the majority of cases fortunately—homicidal persons have commonly attempted suicide—they have expressed a wish to die—I should not think confession of guilt a common characteristic of it—the sight of a weapon or an intended victim would be an incentive—the patient, perhaps, could not resist the temptation—he might write sensibly and clearly—you may detect insanity in the writing or in the conversation—I wrote, "There seems to be no doubt that the mother was insane, and it is likely that she has a defective power of self-control, and might be induced to do wrong more readily as a consequence"—I have since my report heard the mother was not insane—I began my examination by telling her I was a doctor—I made no note at the moment, but I made my report immediately on my return home—I told her I had come to examine her—I asked her if she knew why she was in the gaol—she said, "Yes"—"Do you know the nature of the crime you are accused of?"—she said, "Yes"—"Can you explain it in any way?"—"No, I know nothing about it; I know I am accused of this, but if I did this" or "them, I must have been mad when I did them, because I am so fond of children"—then I began to ask her history, whether she had been married more than once, what occupations her husbands had respectively, how many children she had herself, what had become of those children, how many were still living, then as to why she went to be nurse, and as to the two years' regular training she had had at medical, surgical and monthly nursing; then she told me she had been some months, I think, attendant at this Fishponds Lunatic Asylum, but she did not care for that very much—that fact was verified by Dr. Scott—I heard it from the prisoner—I accepted nearly all she said—then I examined her as to whether she saw properly, heard properly, and whether her taste and smell were correct, trusting to her reports in most cases—then I asked whether she was troubled, whether she slept well or badly—she said she had been sleeping very badly, and dreamed a great deal—I did not allude to hallucinations—I have heard of them—presently she said, when speaking about sleep and about being disturbed, "I hear voices"—"What do they say?"—"They say 'Do it'"—"What does 'Do it,' mean"—"Well, I had better kill myself; I am constantly hearing these voices"—"By day as well as by night?"—"Yes"—I said, "Were there many kinds of voices?" and tried to get further information, but I got nothing beyond that—at the time she did not give me any clue to her having visions, though I asked—I heard of the certificate given by Dr. Logan in 1893, where Dr. Logan described the symptoms—I heard Dr. Logan, bat he spoke of years gone by, and I have no right to deny or question it—that is not what I am giving an opinion upon now—I did not conclude the prisoner was suffering from homicidal mania or some kind of insanity—a person may be violent, without being homicidaliy maniacal—I got the information about her being confined in an asylum—she spoke only about suicide—she said the voices said, "Do it."
Re-examined. I said, "Do what?"—she said, "Destroy myself"—in homicidal mania the voices would probably urge to murder—the impulse would be to do that which the voices told one to do, not to do something different—there is nothing in the mauner these two children met their death to suggest homicidal mania, that I see—you must deal with all the surrounding circumstances as far an you can ascertain them—each case requires a distinct consideration—if any material matter had been pointed out as having been mis-stated in the reports of the trial, that would have altered my judgment.
JAMES HOBLEY . I wish my name not to be mentioned in public—I shall be a pensioner—I am the prisoner's brother—my mother was never insane—there was never a case of insanity in our family, so far as I have heard our family history.
Cross-examined by MR. KAPADIA. I have not seen the prisoner for thirty-five or thirty-six years—she is a total stranger to me.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
Cross-examined. I said "Good-night" to her because I thought it was somebody I knew—she said nothing—I think it was on April 11th that it first came to my head that it was the prisoner I saw on April 2nd; that would fee nine days afterwards—I recognised her as a person I knew—very possibly I met several other persons on April 2nd—when I saw her again I recognised her—I did not go down Forbury Road; I crossed on the right-hand side, I live on that side; I crossed from the left to the right-hand side of the bridge; the bridge is on the left, and I live ou the right—I was close to the prisoner, we passed each other; we could have touched each other as we passed.
Re-examined. There was a gas lamp close to where I met her, a few yards on the other side of the road, and the Rising Sun was lighted.
JANE SMITH . I am a widow—up to June, 1895, I was an inmate of the Barton Regis Workhouse, near Bristol—I there became acquainted with the prisoner under the name of Dyer—she invited me to come out of the Union and live with her—she told me that she was going to do the same as she used to do, taking in babies to nurse—I consented to go and live with her—she first took lodgings at Bristol, and after remaining there a short time I moved with her to Cardiff, and there, on the platform, we met Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, and we lived together, first at one house at Cardiff and then at another—in August, 1895, the prisoner went to Reading, and shortly after I and the Palmers followed her, and we all lived together, first at Pigot's Road, and then at Elm Villas, and then at Kensington Road—I lived with her there up to the time of her arrest—on Tuesday morning, March 31st, she left Reading by an early train—she said she was going up to see Mr. and Mrs. Palmer—she took with her this carpet bag of Willie Thornton's, and some small baby clothes, and she took with her a piece of boiled ham for the Palmers, about seven or eight pounds weight—she returned on Thursday night, about half-past eleven—she did not bring back Willie Thornton's bag—she said she had left it behind for the purpose of Mrs. Palmer packing up little things, as they intended to go to Bridgwater to live, the whole of us, Mr. and Mrs. Palmer and myself, the little children and herself; she said she thought of going for about a fortnight—shesaid she was so late because she had lost two trains; on the platform there were so many people that came by railway that she could not come till they had put a special train on.
Cross-examined. When I met her at Barton Workhouse she did not tell me that she had come from Barton Asylum; she said it in the work-room; I heard her say it—she was kind to me sometimes; she was not particularly excitable; she got into tempers sometimes—she never threatened me—I was not at all afraid of her; she was not peculiar in. her habits, nothing whatever—she used to go out of an evening occasionally—aftergiving evidence before the Magistrate I went over to the gaol to see her—I told her that we wanted money, me and the children, and she gave me 10s.—she made no remark, only told the matron to give it me—she did not say, "Take care of it, for God knows where you will get any more"—she let me have several sums of money—I never heard her talking to herself.
Re-examined. She always kept the money, and paid for things and managed the house—she seemed a good woman of business when I lived with her—I asked her for money for myself and the children, Nellie, Oliver and Willie Thornton—Nellie was six, and Willie nine—Nellie had been with her about three months; Willie came when we were living at Elm Villas—Miss Butcher's girl was in the house at the time of the arrest; the mother had had a child, and took it away herself after the prisoner was arrested—I called the prisoner "mother."
HENRY SMITHWAITE . I am a labourer at Reading—on April 10th last I was assisting other people to drag the Thames there—on that afternoon, in the river, I found this carpet bag; about half-way across the foot bridge, across the Clappers, at Caversham, on the left-hand side, going from Caversham—it was sunk in about twelve feet of water; I fetched it up from the bottom—on getting it out I took it to the back of the lock-house at Caversham, and called Sergeant James—it was tied round with string at the top, with about three inches gaping open, and a piece of brown paper along the top of the contents—in my presence Sergeant James cut the string, and I saw in the bag the body of a female child; Sergeant James took out a brick—the bag was taken to the Police-station, and was found to contain the bodies of two children, one a male and the other a female—besides a whole brick there was also in the bag about three-quarters of a brick.
HARRY JAMES . I an a sergeant of the Borough Police at Reading—I was superintending the dragging of a portion of the river when the last witness found the bag—I accompanied him to the Police-station, and thence to the mortuary, which was close by—I there unpacked the bag,. and found in it the bodies of a male and female child, and these bricks—on the body of the female child was a diaper, which was identified yesterday by Miss Harmon—the male child had on a shirt, and a napkin wrapped over it—I was present when Miss Marmon identified the female child at the mortuary; I was also present when Mrs. Sergeant attended at the mortuary—the two bodies were shown to her, and she identifiedi the body of the male child as that of Harry Simmonds—I afterwards went to 76, Mayo Road, and there found some child's clothing, which was handed to me by Mrs. Palmer—among the baby clothing handed to me was this cardboard box, and the clothing in it, identified by Miss Marmon—the fawn pelisse was handed to me by Mrs. Palmer.
WILLIAM JAMES MORRIS . I am an M.D. and M.R.C.S., practising at Reading—on the morning of April 11th I went to the mortuary at Reading, and there saw the bodies of two children, oiale and female—there was a double mark round the neck of the female, like the mark of a tape or ligature, tied quite tight—I afterwards made a post-mortem of the body of that child—strangulation was the cause of death—the ligature caused the strangulation—I formed an approximate judgment that it had been dead about ten days—the ligature must have been tied tightly round the neck; there was not a very distinct mark where it was tied; it was more distinct in some parts than others, but nothing that I could identify as a knot on the body of the male child, I found a tape tied twice round the neck; it was tied in a bow—the cause of death in that case was strangulation by the tape—in that case death had been about ten days—there was a little less decomposition in that case.
Cross-examined. It is possible that in the case of the female death might have been caused by the tube of a feeding-bottle—I don't think it very likely, because it was an uneven-mark, and the tube would be more likely to make a more even mark—there is not much elasticity in tape—I can say the mark was made before death.
Re-examined. I believe the tape is about forty inches in length—I never saw the tube of a feeding-bottle that length—a ligature of this length would render an infant absolutely powerless at once—that throat was not constricted; in the male child it was quite constricted.
JAMES ANDERSON (Detective Constable, Reading). On April 6th I went to 76, Mayo Road—I found there a number of pawn-tickets, ten relating: chiefly to children's clothing—on the 15th I went to the prisoner's house, 45, Kensington Road, Reading—I there found fifteen pawn-tickets, chiefly relating to children's clothing—I found there a number of diapers, which have been identified by Miss Marmon—I found them in a brown paper parcel, among some dirty clothing which the prisoner said she bad brought from London the night previous—I found it contained twelve diapers, as well as some dirty linen.
ELLEN GIBBS . I am matron at the prison at Reading—I was in charge of the prisoner there when she wrote this letter—she asked me to send it to the police—I sent it to the governor—she said, "Now I have eased my mind"—I read the letter, and handed it back to her, and said, "A letter like this; you plead guilty to everything"; she said, "I wish to; they can't charge me with anything worse than I have done"; I said, "You are on remand; would you not like to send this letter later on?" she said, "Oh no, let it go—I sent it on to the governor—I afterwards saw her write this other letter, addressed to Arthur E. Palmer, who, at that time, was charged with being an accessory after the fact to some crime of hers, and was then in custody—I also sent that to the governor—that is a rule of the prison. The letters were read as Jollows: "April 16th. To the Chief Superintendent of Police. Sir,—Willyou kindly grant me the favour of presenting this to the Magistrate on Saturday, 18th inst.? I have made this statement out, for I may not have the opportunity then. I must ease my mind. I know my days are numbered, but I do know it is an awful thing to bring innocent people into trouble; but, as God Almighty is my Judge in Heaven as in earth, neither my daughter or her husband, I do most solemnly declare, had anything at all to do with it; they never knew I contemplated doing such a wicked thing until it was too late. I am speaking the truth; I alone must stand before my Maker in Heaven to give an answer for it. Witness my hand, EMILY DYER." "To Arthur E. Palmer, Thursday, April 16th, 1896. My Poor Dear Arthur,—Oh, how my heart aches for you and my dear Polly! I am send—this to tell you I have eased my mind, and made a full statement. I have told them the truth, that as God Almighty is my Judge, I dare not go into His presence with a lie. You will have a lawyer, but for myself it would only be throwing away money. I know I have done this dreadful crime, and I know I alone shall answer for it. I have just written a long letter, another to mother; also I have wrote out a true and faithful statement of everything. I hope God will give you strength to bear this awful trial.—Your broken-hearted mother, E. DYER. Let me just have one line Friday morning."I knew that the actual charge the prisoner was under on April 16th was that of murdering a child; I did not know it was the child of Miss Marmon—she was remanded over and over, and there was a fresh committal every time.
Cross-examined. While in the prison, under my care, she talked to herself—I don't think she was depressed, not anything particular—she was very low-spirited concerning Arthur Palmer being in custody.
Re-examined. The talking to herself continued, more or less, the whole time she was in prison—that is not unusual with a prisoner under arrest—I should say 90 per cent, do it.
Witnesses for the Defence.
FREDERICK THOMAS BISHOP LOGAN . I am a medical man, in practice at Bristol—on December 24th, 1893, I examined the prisoner at 114, Wells Road, Bristol—she was very violent, and suffering from delusions—she picked up the poker and rushed at me with it, and threatened to break my skull—she said she had heard voices telling her the whole time to destroy herself, that the birds said, "Do it, do it "; her daughter was present; she told me that she had been very violent, and had attempted suicide—I came to the conclusion that she was a person of unsound mind, and I gave a medical certificate under which she was taken to an asylum.
Cross-examined. I have not seen her from that time to this. I saw her on December 26th, when she was before the Magistrate—I had never seen her before the 24th; that was in reference to the lunacy proceedings—Iknow she was discharged from the asylum—I am not aware of the exact date, but it was somewhere in January—shewas very excitable and wild in her manner—I saw no other objective symptoms beyond what I have mentioned—I was sent to her by the relieving officer—I did not examine her eyes by the opthalmoscope, nor for action and reaction—I do not remember anyone else being present besides myself, Che prisoner, and Mrs. Palmer—she got hold of the poker—I had only been there a minute or so—I had not said who I was—Mrs. Palmer said I was somebody come to see her—I did not examine her particularly for drink; she had no symptoms of drink; if there had been I should have traced them—I was told to decide whether she was mad or not—I was not told before I had got there that she had attempted suicide—I was told so at the house by the daughter—I saw no marks of violence on her—when I first came into the room she was sitting down away from the table, not doing anything—she was nearer the fire—I was sitting down at the table, and going to ask her some questions, when she suddenly got out of the chair—I cannot remember wltether I had put questions or not—I made my note in the certificate the same day—I took notes at dietime, and copied them in the certificate on the 25th—she was on my left side—she would have struck me had I allowed her—I took the poker from her—she struggled a minute or so when I got hold of the poker, and after I had taken it away—then I got her to sit in a chair before I commenced to examine her—I stopped with her ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, it may have been more—I next saw her at the Magistrate's private house—we met there—I did not see her again—I bad heard nothing of the parent of a child coming after her.
Re-examined by MR. KAPADIA. From my examination I was satisfid she was a fit ana proper subject for an asylum.
By the COURT. Her delusions were when she heard voices in the air telling her to destroy herself, and that birds kept talking to her—distress, or fear would sometimes bring on that sort of insanity that I noticed—mental anxiety might upset the brain in such a way as to cause insanity—I do not think all her symptoms might have occurred from that—I think her conduct was due entirely to disease of the brain—I inquired about her antecedents—I learned she had been in an asylum before—I did not form my judgment from that—it may have formed an element—her daughter told me she had been four months in an asylum.
J. LACY FIRTH . I am a Doctor of Medicine, living at Clifton, Bristol—in May, 1894, I was in charge of the prisoner at the Bristol General Hospital—I was house surgeon there between April and May—the prisoner was brought there on April 26th—I saw her an hour or two after admission—she was reported to have attempted suicide by drowning—she was very cold—she was low-spirited—she was reported to be excited—I did not see her excited—there was difficulty in getting her to take food—I cannot remember being present then—she remained thirteen days—she was melancholy, but I do not go so far as to say she was insane—she said repeatedly she had something on her mind—it is impossible to remember what I said, but I tried to find out what was on her mind, but did not succeed—I wrote a letter to the Treasury about May 27th. (The letter was called for, but not produced.)
Cross-examined by MR. LAWRENCE. She was in bed when I saw her—she was shivering—she was discharged sound—a man came to the hospital, and in consequence of an interview I asked the prisoner some questions as to the address of a person—I asked her if she knew where a certain person lived whose name I have forgotten—that person was a woman, who had been mentioned to me by the man who had called at the hospital—she did not give me a plain answer, but I am certain, from what she did say, she knew something about that person—she said the person had lived in some street in Bath, which she mentioned—I was with the prisoner ten minutes, talking about the matter—I do not recollect how directly I mentioned it—the subject matter was that a child was lost—as near as I recollect, I asked her if she knew where such and such a child was—probably I mentioned the name—I found out she had had something to do with the child—I made no notes—she partly admitted having had the child; she obviously knew something about it.
WILLIAM FREDERICK BAILEY EDEN . I am a surgeon and licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons—I practise at Hambrook village—I live At Hambrook Court—on December 14th, 1894, I was called to examine the prisoner at Grove Cottage, Grove Road, Fishponds, upon an order sent by the relieving officer—I found she was very excited—when I went in she threatened to pitch me out—she wanted to know who had sent me there—I said I had come by order of the relieving officer—I kept quiet—I went as a stranger—I had very little conversation with her, she was in such a bellicose spirit; I heard what she had to say, and let her talk on, and in the end I came to the conclusion she was of unsound mind, and ought to be placed under control—I signed a certificate to that effect, on which she was sent to an asylum—her daughter and daughter's husband were there—her daughter said that she was suicidal, and had run after her with a knife, and that she was upset about some children—the prisoner rambled on—site said that God had forsaken her, and that she must do it, or that she will do it, or words to that effect—she did say the world was against her—I was with her about ten minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWRENCE. That was the first time I saw her—I saw her after she was discharged from the Gloucester Asylum in January, 1895, as recovered—the daughter told me the prisoner "had been in an asylum twice before—the daughter and her husband had applied to the relieving officer to have her removed—I saw no mark on her body of a suicidal attempt—the daughter told me the prisoner in tended to drown herself; that she had got up with that intention—I was told she had been in an asylum twice or three times before—I did not ask how long she had been in an asylum—she was not depressed, just the opposite—I did not ask her why she said God had forsaken her, and the world was against her—it might have been prudent to have asked her, but the daughter told me—if she had told me of her misfortunes I do not think that would have altered my opinion—she remained in the asylum about a month.
FORBES WINSLOW . I am an M.B. and LL.M. of Cambridge, a member of the Royal College of Physicians, London, Physician to the British Hospital for Mental Disorders, and Lecturer on Mental Diseases at Charing Cross Hospital—on the 15th inst. I examined the prisoner at Holloway Gaol—the first time I saw her Dr. Scott was present—I had a long interview with her—I had not read much about the trial, nor formed an opinion before I saw her—T asked her a great many questions; after that I considered she was a person of unsound mind, suffering from delusions and hallucinations—a delusion is a belief in something which has no existence apart from the diseased fancy, and may be objective or subjective—hallucination is to believe in the existence of something in the mind of the person; for instance, if a person hears a voice or sees a vision, and there is nothing to account for it—either might be delusion or hallucination—then there is illusion and subdivisions of illusions—the prisoner was suffering from insanity, from melancholia, insanity with delusions—there was no excitement, nothing beyond her depression and delusions—she made not the slightest attempt to feign insanity—I examined her, and came to the conclusion she was not shamming—there was nothing in her movements or in her conversation, apart from the absolute delusions which I elicited from her, that proved to my mind she was trying to put on any form of insanity or to exert her symptoms; if she had, it would be apparent, I presume; it would be evident on the surface, I imagine—I did not ask her, but she volunteered the statement that very often she got in a very depressed menial condition, that voices spoke to her and told her to take her own life, and that she had made several attempts to do that, but had been prevented—she said she frequently saw visions of her mother, who came to her; but that was my second interview, on the 19th—in the first, she told me she had been in Gloucester Asylum, that she had been cruelly treated, and placed in a padded room, and in consequence of that treatment she had a perfect right to take her own life—her memory was good for what happened years ago, but bad for recent events—that is common with people advanced in life, or from people suffering from melancholia—I should say it is a test of memory in melancholia—her memory was exactly what you would expect to find in its normal condition, but, still, it is a test—that symptom, taken with others, would show organic disease of the brain—it is, shown in a person over fifty—the prisoner is fifty-seven—I asked her if she had any recollection of the crime; she told me she had not, and when she tried to recollect she became mystified—I asked her if she could tell me the names of the two children who were drowned—her reply was she could not recollect the names—I have the questions and answers here—I asked her, "How many children were there?"—she said, "I cannot tell; I will try and think about it, but feel in a dream"—my first visit was an hour and a quarter, my second visit fifty minutes—I asked her whether she still heard voices speaking to her—her reply was, "Yes, every night"—I asked her how she had been since I hod last seen her on the 15th—she said, "I had a peculiar sensation lost night; I felt as if myself and my bed were passing through the floor"—I told her I had sten a letter from her son, who was in the Army, and that he was quite well—she answered, "That is very strange, because last night I was visited by the spirit of my mother and my boy"—I then, for the first time, asked her about apparitions, and about the visions to which she had alluded—I said "Will you please give me the nature of these visions that you see?"—she hesitated for a moment, then she said, "It is too horrible"—then she stopped for a moment, and seemed to contemplate, and then continued, "Oh, the sights and sounds are so horrible that I prefer to keep them to myself"—I pressed her—she then went on, "I had a fearful sensation the other evening; I thought I was handing my mother's bones from out her coffin"—she then went back to the question of her boy, to whom I had alluded, having received a letter that morning from him—she said, when the boy enlisted she was unconscious for three weeks, and when she woke up she fancied that the rats were crawling all over her—I then went back to the subject of the crime, and asked her when she first knew of the occurrence, the crime she was in custody for—her reply was, "On Easter Sunday or Easter Monday, or it might have been on Good Friday"—I said (referring to his notes), "Can you tell me anything, about the two children found in the river? how did you hear about it?"—she said, "I cannot tell; when I try to recollect dates I cannot do so. It might have been months or years; that is when I get mystified"—I said, "What were the names of these children?"—Mrs. Dyer thought for a time, and then replied, "I am sure I do not know. I cannot tell the names now"—I passed on to "When did you first hear about what had happened?"—her reply was, "Good Friday or Easter Monday, or perhaps it was Tuesday"—I asked her if she had not missed the children. Her reply was, "I cannot tell"; she never thought a bit about them—I asked her when she saw them last—she said she did not know—these are the chief things in the conversation I had with her—I formed my opinion, on examining her twice, that she is a person of unsound mind, and not responsible for her actions. (The COURT reproved the witness for making the latter observation, that being a question for tlie JURY.) I have heard the evidence given to-day—the transient or recurrent form of insanity is the most formidable of its kind—predisposition to an attack is greater in a recovered lunatic than in. one who has been always sane—it depends upon circumstances generally—she would be predisposed to an attack at any time—insomnia is a concomitant symptom of insanity, but not taken per se and not always.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWRENCE. The defence of insanity had been raised when I was first consulted, on May 14th—I got my instructions on the 15th—depression in a sane person, charged with murder, is not unnatural; I mean low-spiritedness—I put the question about the voices—that was the first I heard about them—she had not mentioned them till I put the question—I knew she had been in an asylum—she did not say she had been an attendant in an asylum—one question I put was, how she got her children when she had no children; she said she had been a monthly nurse, a surgical nurse, and a medical nurse—I put the question, "Do you ever see visions?"—I asked her, with regard to the voices, "Do they speak to you?"—that was the last question but three on my second visit—the first I heard about visions was on my second visit, about the voices I heard on the first—I should not have expected signs of excitement, because in melancholia and monomania there are no outward evidences of lunacy—excitement shows quite a distinct type of insanity from what I saw—the strain of being charged with a serious crime would be likely to shake the firmest nerves—I asked, "Do you ever see visions?"—her reply was, "Do not ask me"—I continued, and then pressed the question, "What do you see?"—her reply was, "I cannot tell you; that is why I keep awake at night; sounds and sights, and one thing and another; I keep it all to myself"—"Won't you give me some notion?"—she hesitated for a moment, then said, "My poor boy! my poor mother!"—"Do they ever speak to you?"—"Frequently; I hear them talking, telling me to come to them; my poor boy! my poor mother!"—and "I had fearful scenes last night I fancied I handled my mother's bones, picking them out of the coffin. When my poor boy went awny and enlisted I never slept for three weeks. I knew no one. I beat the rats off. Everything seemed to fly to my head, and I feel I want to fly to my boy"—it constantly happens that people with trouble conjure-up visions and dreams—the greater the trouble the more extravagant sometimes the vision—I am not surprised either way, if they have them or not—visions appear to people when they are wide awake and conscious; dreams cannot—melancholia would disclose itself by a tendency to suicide.
Evidence in Reply.
JAMES SCOTT . I am a Bachelor of Medicine and medical officer to the prison at Holloway—the prisoner has been under my observation since May 7th, a few days after her arrival there—I have seen her daily, and conversed with her—I have discovered nothing that is not consistent with her being sane, beyond her own statements of her Constant desire to commit suicide, and her memory of recent events being a total blank—I tested her memory by questions—she readily gave information about events which happened some years ago, more especially her being taken to the asylum, and her suicidal attempts—in the result I consider she has not been insane during the time she has been under my observation—she told me she had been an attendant at the Stapleton or Fishponds Asylum, near Bristol.
Cross-examined by MR. KAPADIA. It is possible for a lunatic suffering from homicidal mania to be free from excitement—it was not reported to me that she talked to herself in prison, and I have not heard her—I saw her myself once or twice every day, and received reports about her—I was inclined to look upon her as simulating insanity—I have heard her say she heard noises telling her to injure herself, not any other person—I considered her responses, conduct and other things, and the case in all its bearings; I do not see how I could directly test whether she heard voices or not—I could not find, as I should have expected, any evidence of her intention to commit suicide—she has not behaved in an insane manner—she has complained of pains in her head, and giddiness and weakness; I was present at the interview with Dr. Winslow—I heard the doctor's questions and her answers—possibly I may have passed a confidential opinion as between one man and another—a sane person might have made her answers, as if simulating insanity—some of them might be given by an insane person.
Re-examined. No answer was given to Dr. Winslow from which it would be safe to deduce insanity.
By the COURT. People commit suicide through trouble; suicide may attend insanity, or be committed independently of it.
GEORGE HENRY SAVAGE, M.D., M.B.C.P . I have had long experience in lunacy—I have been seventeen years Physician to St. Bartholo-mew's Hospital, Lecturer on Mental Diseases at Guy's Hospital over twenty years, author of a Manual on Insanity, and other publications—I saw the prisoner one hour at Holloway—I made a careful examination of her, and inquired into her past history—I came to the conclusion she was not mentally unsound—she told me she had been an attendant at an asylum—she said she did not recollect anything about the crimes of which she was accused—going back to the facts of her life, the doctors of asylums and institutions were perfectly clear in her memory she gave their names.
Cross-examined by MR. KAPADIA. I made a report—I say, "Having to-day seen the above prisoner at Holloway in the presence of Dr. Scott, the medical officer of the prison at Holloway, and having seen the news-paper reports of the trial, and the various reports as to her life's history, and her conduct before and after the trial, also the reports of her early history, I come to the following conclusions"—all the evidence influenced me as an unbiassed person—if the whole mass of premisses were wrong, ray conclusion would be wrong—I was informed of the crimes by the reports—I relied entirely in my judgment of her insanity upon my examination; the rest is a statement of facts to make perfectly clear the conditions under which I examined her—I say, "symptoms always of a transient nature"—that is not necessarily the worst kind of insanity—sometimes it is very formidable when it is sa called impulse—there was no evidence of that before me in this case—the evidence was that of statements of medical officers of asylums when admitted, when discharged, and statements, in case-books at asylums, of medical officers of those asylums—I should not say that such persons are generally liable tohomicidal mania—some who hear imaginary voices are liable to homicidal mania, not generally; those voices are of two distinct descriptions, some commanding, some merely indicating—the instances are not rare among those who commit crime—hearing voices and being impelled to do certain acts are symptoms of homicidal mania—one attack of insanity frequently predisposes for another, and if two or three, the person would be still more liable—the intention of violence or feeling would be dormant for awhile, or it would not be impulse—homicidal mania is not necessarily periodical—I should think so in the majority of cases fortunately—homicidal persons have commonly attempted suicide—they have expressed a wish to die—I should not think confession of guilt a common characteristic of it—the sight of a weapon or an intended victim would be an incentive—the patient, perhaps, could not resist the temptation—he might write sensibly and clearly—you may detect insanity in the writing or in the conversation—I wrote, "There seems to be no doubt that the mother was insane, and it is likely that she has a defective power of self-control, and might be induced to do wrong more readily as a consequence"—I have since my report heard the mother was not insane—I began my examination by telling her I was a doctor—I made no note at the moment, but I made my report immediately on my return home—I told her I had come to examine her—I asked her if she knew why she was in the gaol—she said, "Yes"—"Do you know the nature of the crime you are accused of?"—she said, "Yes"—"Can you explain it in any way?"—"No, I know nothing about it; I know I am accused of this, but if I did this" or "them, I must have been mad when I did them, because I am so fond of children"—then I began to ask her history, whether she had been married more than once, what occupations her husbands had respectively, how many children she had herself, what had become of those children, how many were still living, then as to why she went to be nurse, and as to the two years' regular training she had had at medical, surgical and monthly nursing; then she told me she had been some months, I think, attendant at this Fishponds Lunatic Asylum, but she did not care for that very much—that fact was verified by Dr. Scott—I heard it from the prisoner—I accepted nearly all she said—then I examined her as to whether she saw properly, heard properly, and whether her taste and smell were correct, trusting to her reports in most cases—then I asked whether she was troubled, whether she slept well or badly—she said she had been sleeping very badly, and dreamed a great deal—I did not allude to hallucinations—I have heard of them—presently she said, when speaking about sleep and about being disturbed, "I hear voices"—"What do they say?"—"They say 'Do it'"—"What does 'Do it,' mean"—"Well, I had better kill myself; I am constantly hearing these voices"—"By day as well as by night?"—"Yes"—I said, "Were there many kinds of voices?" and tried to get further information, but I got nothing beyond that—at the time she did not give me any clue to her having visions, though I asked—I heard of the certificate given by Dr. Logan in 1893, where Dr. Logan described the symptoms—I heard Dr. Logan, bat he spoke of years gone by, and I have no right to deny or question it—that is not what I am giving an opinion upon now—I did not conclude the prisoner was suffering from homicidal mania or some kind of insanity—a person may be violent, without being homicidaliy maniacal—I got the information about her being confined in an asylum—she spoke only about suicide—she said the voices said, "Do it."
Re-examined. I said, "Do what?"—she said, "Destroy myself"—in homicidal mania the voices would probably urge to murder—the impulse would be to do that which the voices told one to do, not to do something different—there is nothing in the mauner these two children met their death to suggest homicidal mania, that I see—you must deal with all the surrounding circumstances as far an you can ascertain them—each case requires a distinct consideration—if any material matter had been pointed out as having been mis-stated in the reports of the trial, that would have altered my judgment.
JAMES HOBLEY . I wish my name not to be mentioned in public—I shall be a pensioner—I am the prisoner's brother—my mother was never insane—there was never a case of insanity in our family, so far as I have heard our family history.
Cross-examined by MR. KAPADIA. I have not seen the prisoner for thirty-five or thirty-six years—she is a total stranger to me.
GUILTY .— DEATH .