4th February 1856
Reference Numbert18560204-263
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation

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263. CHARLES BROADFOOT WESTRON was indicted for the wilful murder of George Waugh: he was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MESSRS. CLARKSON, CLERK, and GIFFARD conducted the Prosecution.

THOMAS KEMP WHITFIELD . I am clerk to a solicitor. On the morning of 16th Jan., I was in Bedford-street, at the end of Bedford-row, and about half past 10 o'clock, I saw the prisoner emerge from Hand-court, and cross Bedford-street towards Bedford-row, as if to enter Bedford-row—instead of doing so, he suddenly turned to the corner of the railing by Bedfordrow, and stood there—he was doing something that attracted my attention, as if he wished to do something secretly, that a passer by might not observe what he was about—I could not see what it was, he had got something up his sleeve—he then proceeded up Bedford-street, my eye followed him—I then saw Mr. George Waugh, the deceased, whom I had known for five or six years, proceeding in an opposite direction—the prisoner, when within about four yards of Mr. Waugh, presented his arm, and I saw something in his hand; it seemed to glisten, and looked like brass—I did not know

what it was at the time, and immediately he presented his arm, he made use of the words, "You villain, you have ruined me; why did you rob me of my property?"—I immediately heard a report, as if from a pistol—I heard Mr. Waugh exclaim, "Hold him, collar him, he has murdered me!"—I then walked towards the prisoner, and when within about a yard of him, as I was going to put my hand upon him, he drew a second pistol from his right hand coat pocket, and cocked it with his left hand—I then said to him, "Why did you shoot the poor man? you ought not to have done that; why did you do it?"—he immediately replied, "He has ruined me, and robbed me of my property"—I said to him, "Now you have ruined yourself"—he said, "I don't care, I have done it;" and he dropped the second pistol—Mr. Waugh was not dead at that time—he was down on the ground—he did not drop for two or three seconds after the report—whilst he was exclaiming, "Hold him, collar him, he has murdered me!" he was on his legs—persons then came up, and the prisoner was taken into custody.

THOMAS HUTCHINS . I am the street keeper of Bedford-row. I was on duty there just before half past 10 o'clock on the morning in question—I heard the report of fire arms, and saw the deceased fall on the pavement—I ran up and the prisoner was then saying, "He has ruined me, and I will be the ruin of him"—he repeated it two or three times over—I took him into custody—on the road to the station, he said he wanted his money, for he intended to go abroad—he mentioned that three or four times over—as we were going through Brunswick-square, he took a knife out of his pocket—I took it from him; this is it (produced)—it was closed at the time.

FRANCIS HATES (police sergeant, 14). I was at the station on the morning of 16th Jan., when the prisoner was brought there—the charge was made against him of having murdered Mr. Waugh—I entered it—the prisoner said, "Mr. Waugh has brought it all upon himself, he has cheated me out of my estate, some acres of land; he is a relation of mine, he has married into our family"—he then turned round in the dock, and said, "Now, I am satisfied"—I have the two pistols; one was loaded at the time it was brought to the station; I have extracted the ball—the other had been recently discharged, the nipple was broken.

RICHARD CHECKLEY (police inspector). The prisoner was at the Clerkenwell police court on the 16th, the same day he was taken into custody—on the way there from Hunter-street station, he said that if it had not been for the deceased he should have had 800l., now he should only have 400l., and God knew when that would be, as he had thrown it into Chancery—the prisoner gave me his address, in Newland-street, Kensington—I went there and found a bullet mould, and some bullets, some powder and caps.

Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE (with MESSRS. METCALFE and LEWIS for the prisoner). Q. Did you ascertain where these pistols had been bought? A. Yes, they were bought about eighteen months ago—I have prepared a plan of the place where this happened.

ERASMUS WREN . I am a member of the College of Surgeons. I did not know Mr. Waugh in his lifetime—I saw him on the morning in question, about half-past 10 o'clock—he was then dead—there was a gun shot wound on his body—I afterwards examined his body—death was caused by a bullet—it had entered on the left side—I found it seated in the groin, on the right side—it had traversed the body, and passed through the heartdeath must have been instantaneous.

JOHN PYBKE . I was clerk to Mr. George Waugh, a solicitor, in James-street, Bedford-row. He was engaged in some legal proceedings on the part of the prisoner—I do not know how long he was acting as solicitor for the prisoner—I was only there nine months—it had commenced before my time—whilst I was in the office some correspondence took place between Mr. Waugh and the prisoner—he was acting for the prisoner and other members of his family—I posted several letters from Mr. Waugh to the prisoner—I have afterwards seen the prisoner at the office—letters have come from the prisoner to Mr. Waugh—I am acquainted with the prisoner's writing—on 10th Oct. I posted a letter directed by Mr. Waugh to the prisoner—I have a copy of that letter—these letters of 11th and 28th Oct., and 5th Nov., are in the prisoner's writing—(The following letters were read: "To Mr. C. Westron. 10th Oct, 1855. Sir,—Your conduct was so insulting, and your remarks so impertinent and unwarranted, at my office this morning, that I find it necessary to revert to the decision I some time since adopted, when you pursued a similar course, of declining personal intercourse, and desiring that any further communication may be made either by letter or through one of my clerks, and kept within the bounds of reason and truth; in answer to which, every information will be given you as to the Burrow and Munscomb estates. Had you taken a proper course of conduct and conversation this morning, instead of using such expressions as and—scoundrel, and other infamous ones of a like nature, I should have shown you the agreement, signed by your brothers and sisters, for granting a new lease of the property to Mr. Howse for ten years, at the same rent and the like covenants as those in his present one, with the addition of a power from the lessors to determine the same upon any quarter day, upon giving one year's previous notice so to do, and payment of the usual outgoing tenant's valuation, and for any permanent improvement made by him to the property, with their consent in writing. I now have to ask if you will sign such agreement, which is left with my clerk for your inspection. I remain, your obedient servant, George Waugh." "11th Oct. (To Mr. Waugh from the prisoner.) "Sir,—You have been told by me, over and over again, that I will not sanction, on my own behalf—that is, you say, I can do nothing—Mr. Howse taking a fresh lease at a rental of 220l. a year, subject to such swindling deductions as are made through you, namely, expenses, collecting the half year's rent for me, 20l. two sums of 1l. 5s. each, taxes against income, making 12l. or 13l. per cent, upon the rent, besides other expenses. The first part of your letter contains a quotation of some expression you state I made use of in your presence. It is possible I have, but more probable I have not, exactly as you write it, without an additional consonant tnat would have given a more significant bearing, and have been a more apt return of a sotto voce benediction of your own to me. With respect to the other part of your letter, wherein you state you will not see me, I must distinctly give you to understand, that you are too dear to me to allow of my breaking a five years' acquaintance in that abrupt manner; and therefore I shall take the liberty of not only calling, but requesting that you will be visible on the 21st of this month, which will be three months from the time I last wrote you, of which you appear quite oblivious, as also the lapse of time since you served me with a notice of your intention to dispose of the property. I shall have nothing further to say to you, but simply this, that it is my intention to see your son, as I presume he will be placed in your shoes before long, and I should like for him to know how he will be situated

with me when such an event occurs, as there seems more truth than you may perhaps fancy in the remark made by Mr. Ellis, at Tiverton, when he observed that my life hung upon a thread, and had he completed the sentence it would have been, 'and this gentleman's life on my right hangs on a puff of smoke.' I do not intend to have any more correspondence with you, having answered your letter. I am, Sir, yours respectfully, C. B. Westron."—"Oct. 28th. To. Mr. Waugh. Sir,—Since you now seem to be quite oblivious, or rather I should say regardless of time that has elapsed after the first notice you gave me of your intention to dispose of the property, I will thank you to forward me particulars of your account, that some mode of settlement may be devised, and a balance struck between us, as I have a little set off against you. At the same time have the goodness to inform me what your views are with respect to the property; and if, in accordance with mine contained in the late correspondence between us, let me know, as I am desirous of carrying out the promise given to Mr. Coombe, although extorted under a threat of not going into your office, and thereby creating a return of that serious delusion of which he informed me at the same time you laboured under. I am, Sir, yours most respectfully, Charles Weatron." "5th Nov. Sir,—In answer to your letter, I have only to state that you must have been as well aware as myself its contents only amounted to a part of a promise of something being done between this and Lady Day next, provided nothing occurred to prevent it. I have now instructed Mr. Sandys to dispose of my share in the property by 10th Dec. next, let the loss that very probably will occur be what it may. He suggested what perhaps never occurred to you, that my brothers or the other branches of the family might, through your assistance, be induced to give me a trifle for my interest, and then you might have succeeded in your original purpose of managing the property, and your son, of course, would follow in his parent's pattern. Previous to all this taking place, I think it but right to let you know that although my judgment might err in condemning a solicitor who acts in behalf of both plaintiff and defendant, yet I cannot be made to understand how a person is expected to sanction the sale of a property previous to his having seen the title or description of it, as you were so anxious for me to do at the time of compromise; nor how any solicitor calling himself respectable could induce a client to accept a compromise to the value of 7,000l., now states that the purchaser won't have it, but the client must take what he can catch, or perhaps 6,000l., provided nothing occurs between this and Lady Day. You are perfectly aware of the terms of compromise, but not perhaps quite so enlightened as to the difficulty I had of procuring a sight of my title to the property, or either my reason for sanctioning 6,300l. by a public auction, which was not carried out; I therefore consider that I am entitled to have the original offer of 7,000l. carried out. I am afraid, from the letters you have written me, that you have made a very slight mistake with Mr. Burridge's affairs, but you will excuse my speaking a little enigmatically—thereby hangs a tale, but not an entail. You had better make out particulars of your account, and furnish me with same, when I trust, if a settlement is made, it will prove satisfactory to both parties. Mr. Sandys' address is No. 4, Gray's Inn-square, and he will call on Monday or Tuesday. Sir, I am yours respectfully, C. B. Westron.")

JAMES BARRELL . I was clerk to the deceased Mr. Waugh, and had been so for about six years prior to his death. He had been employed as the solicitor by the prisoner in some proceedings—he originally acted for the prisoner and his brothers and sisters at the commencement of the proceedings—they

were proceedings in Chancery—I remember Mr. Waugh going to the Clerkenwell police court in Oct. last—I accompanied him—I think it was on the 12th or. 14th—it may have been the 15th—it was on a Monday—a summons had been issued at the instance of Mr. Waugh, calling on the prisoner to come to the police court at Clerkenwell, and on the Monday, the day the summons was returnable, the prisoner appeared there—Mr. Waugh made a complaint against him in his presence to Mr. Come, the Magistrate, and he read a letter which he had received from the prisoner a day or two previously—that was the letter dated 10th Oct.—Mr. Waugh stated that he feared his life was in danger if the prisoner was left at large, that he had reason to believe, from inquiries I had made as bis clerk, that he was in the habit of having fire arms in his possession—the prisoner was in a position to hear this, and anything he did not hear he asked the Magistrate to explain to him—Mr. Waugh explained a passage in the letter which referred to a conversation that took place at Tiverton in Aug.—he stated that he believed that "the gentleman on his right, whose life hung on a puff of smoke," referred to himself—the prisoner attempted to laugh the matter off by saying how absurd it was for a man like Mr. Waugh, so much bigger than himself, to be afraid of him, or words to that effect, and he endeavoured to pass it off in that way—he laughed at it, and said it was a delusion on the part of Mr. Waugh to imagine such a thing—the Magistrate required an explanation from him, and he said he was not able to give an explanation, as he did not mean anything in the letter—the Magistrate made him make an assurance to him that he would not go in Great James-street again, or in any way interfere with Mr. Waugh, and that he would put his matters into the hands of another solicitor—he consented to that, and the name of a solicitor was mentioned in court—he was not to go to Mr. Waugh's office, or in the neighbourhood—I do not know that the complaint was exactly withdrawn on that arrangement—if he was seen in that neighbourhood again, he was to be brought up before the Magistrate—he was not held to bail—I think Mr. Waugh requested the Magistrate to allow a police officer to go and search his lodging—after this the prisoner employed Mr. Sandys, of Gray's Inn-square, as his attorney—I was not present at the time that an agreement was executed by the prisoner for the sale of his share—I am aware that such an agreement was signed—I saw it after he had executed it—the prisoner never came to Mr. Waugh's office after that day—I have seen the prisoner frequently at Mr. Waugh's office—upon several occasions he behaved himself in a very insulting manner to Mr. Waugh, and once or twice Mr. Waugh requested him not to come to his office again, or if he did that he would see his clerk, he would not see him himself.

Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. What did the Magistrate do on that occasion, call upon him to enter into recognizances, or what? A. After asking the prisoner for an explanation, he made the arrangement I have stated—he did not place the prisoner under any recognizances—I knew generally of the proceedings that were going on in our office for this family—Mr. Waugh had taken up the suit for them at a risk, in the first instance, and been very successful; but for him, probably, the prisoner would never have got a penny.

WILLIAM SANDYS . I am a solicitor, carrying on business at No. 5, Gray's Inn-square—I was concerned for the prisoner for the sale of his one fifth share—I witnessed and attested his execution of an agreement for the sale of that fifth—this is it (produced)—the 14th Jan. was appointed for the

completion of the sale—this agreement bears date 10th Dec.—the matter was to be completed by the signing of the deeds on 14th Jan.—on the morning of 14th Jan., Mr. Mant, a clerk of Mr. Waugh, called on me—he made a communication to me, which I afterwards communicated to the prisoner—I told the prisoner that Mr. Waugh claimed to retain certain charges from the purchase money, to which I had objected, and in consequence of that the purchase would not then be completed—the prisoner was very angry—I stated distinctly that I did not admit the deductions claimed at that time, but he was very angry, and exceedingly rude in his manner, on the subject, and stated that he would not have anything more to do with the transaction—he left my office soon after, and I never saw him again.

ARTHUR GROVES (policeman, T 188). On Tuesday morning, 15th Jan., I was on duty near Notting-hill-gate, and saw the deceased and his daughter—they got out of an omnibus—he called me to him, and called my attention to the prisoner, who was standing nine or ten yards off, talking to two other men at the gate—Mr. Waugh got into another omnibus, and went towards town, and a few minutes afterwards the prisoner walked on in the same direction—I do not know where he resided at that time.

The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.

HARRIET OGBORN . I am the wife of Charles Ogborn, a City policeman—in March, 1854, we lived in Angel-court, Skinner-street—we are now living in Paternoster-row—in March, 1854, the prisoner came to take a lodging at our house—my husband went up stairs with him, I went also—the prisoner said that he could not believe the bed was long enough for him to sleep upon, and before he took the lodging he should like to measure it—it was a full sized bed, quite long enough for my husband to sleep on, and he is about six feet high—it was a six foot bed—my husband told him that it was long enough for him, we quite laughed at the idea—he still persisted in measuring the bed—he ultimately took the lodging—and remained until May—during that time I had opportunities of seeing him—I used to notice his behaviour every day, and I named to my husband how very eccentric he used to appear, different from what I ever noticed any other gentleman—if I spoke to him on any matter of business, such as letters, I have had brought to me, I would speak to him three or four times, and he would make me no answer whatever—I used at one time to think he was deaf, but I found to the contrary, that he was not deaf, it was only his manner—he used to hold conversations with himself very loud, at night as well as in the daytime—he used very bad language at times, and seemed in a very excited state, when by himself—I have heard him knock his fists on the table in the bed room when he was by himself—I was ill at one part of the time, and lay in bed in the next room to him, and he used to disturb me very much—after I had made his bed he used to strip it almost every day—whenever he was going out, he always stood two or three minutes in the small garden in front of the cottage, eyeing the house over—it was very seldom that I could get him to enter into any conversation, even respecting himself, but when I did, he would break off very abruptly, and say no more—at times he spoke rationally, and at times his conversation was very frivolous, it was quite nonsense, childish talk—when he used to enter into any kind of conversation he used to talk quite childish and silly talk—from what I saw of him while he was with us, I thought he was not correct in his mind, and I spoke of it to his brother.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. What sort of bed was it that he had? A. A cross bedstead, one that will close or open; you pull out the

head board and then it shuts up—it was open when he saw it—he did not measure it—he said that he should come in and do so before he decided, but when he came and told me he would come, he did not do so—he looked at it again very particularly, and then said he would come, and he did come, but he still thought the bed would not be long enough for him—he complained of it every day during the two months he was with us, something was always wrong with the bed or bedstead; he did not complain about the length of it again after he came—he never said anything to me about his property, or about any Chancery suit—he spoke of letters of importance coming to him; he said he expected them from his lawyer, and one did come—I think that was about three weeks after he came to us—I was confined while he was in the house, and lay in bed in the room next to his, and then I used to hear him use bad language; that was about a month after he came—they were very bad oaths, such as men use—the worst of oaths, such as I have heard men use when in drink in the streets—I do not think he was in the habit of drinking, he never had any in my house—he would say d—and blast, and then I would hear a dreadful noise, like his thumping his fists upon his bed room table; it used to make me nervous—there were no other words—this was repeatedly, day after day—I could hear he was swearing, but sometimes I could not hear distinctly; but directly he entered his room I could hear him commence talking to himself—he did not receive more than one letter from his lawyer—he did not complain of his lawyer to me or in my hearing.

ELIZABETH WILLIAMS . I am sister to Mrs. Ogborn, and live with her. I recollect the prisoner lodging at her house—he has on several occasions entered into conversation with me—I very frequently noticed his making noises in his room; walking about the room, and moving about the furniture, and making a great disturbance—at one time he told me he should like to be able to get some spirits to make a fire to burn the devil; that the devil was always walking about after him and annoying him—he said he wished there was a trap door to our house, as he might be able to get outside and see if the devil would appear to him; he should like to challenge him to fight—I was ironing one evening, and he said, did I think if I lent him my iron, if he took that outside with him, that that would frighten the devil—he said once or twice that he should like to get some bullets to see if that would frighten the devil, that he would shoot him with them—he very frequently talked about the devil—on one occasion he told me that he thought if I would lend him one of our saucepans, he should be able to hatch chickens by steam; for he thought it would be a very good plan to do so—I merely smiled, and told him I thought he had better commence about it directly, I thought it would make a very good supper, and he smiled and said, "Perhaps it would."

Cross-examined by MR. CLERK. Q. Did you ever see chickens hatched by steam? A. No—he was in the lodging from March till May—his uncle came and took him away; he insisted on his leaving, or else he would not have left—we did not give him notice to leave—I was frightened when I heard this conversation about the devil—I felt terrified, because he often used to talk to himself, and walk about the room, and swear very dreadfully—I felt rather terrified by this conversation about the devil, because he said it in a very strange manner, and then sometimes he would smile over it—I named it to my sister, but to no one else—I told her husband about it; he was never present at any of these conversations—at the time he walked about the room, and moved the furniture about, he did not seem to be angry—he seemed to be very strange and deranged in his mind, as if he knew not what

he was doing—I was not in the room when he was doing it, but I listened outside the door, out of curiosity to know what he was about—he sometimes mentioned to me that he had legal proceedings going on—sometimes he seemed to be angry when he spoke about it, and sometimes he did not; his mind wandered—I knew that he was receiving letters from a lawyer—I did not know it from himself—the postman used to bring them—we did not see much of his behaviour after the receipt of those letters—he used to go out immediately after receiving them—I cannot tell upon what occasions it was that he would walk about the room, and move the furniture about; he was very strange in all his manners—it was when he came in—sometimes he would swear very violently—we could not distinctly tell whether he was swearing at any person—he never had spirits brought into the house that I am aware of—I never saw him come into the house the worse for liquor—when he talked about burning the devil, he had not been talking about his legal proceedings—it was not connected with that—it was a week previous that he spoke to me about that—it was about three weeks after he came that he spoke about getting spirits to burn the devil—I had before that perceived that he was very strange in his conversation—sometimes he would ask a few questions, and enter into conversation, and when I began to answer him, you could get no reply, or if you did, it would be a very ridiculous one—I never heard the name of his lawyer mentioned—I never heard him speak angrily with regard to him; I am quite certain of that.

MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You have been asked whether he was swearing at any person, was there any person in the house that he was swearing at? A. No, he was in the room by himself, with the door closed.

CHARLES OGBOBN . I am the husband of Harriet Ogborn, and am a City policeman—the prisoner lodged at our house—when he first came to take the room, I showed him up stairs, and showed him the bed—he looked at it, and asked me if it was long enough for him—I told him that it was a six foot bed, that it was quite long enough for me, and I had slept on it—he said he should like to measure it, to be satisfied that it was long enough, before he took the room—I smiled at him, and endeavoured to assure him that it was long enough, and he said he would call again, which he did some two or three days after—I saw him down in the kitchen on several different occasions with some lead, making bullets in a slice over the fire—he had a pistol—this was about March, 1854—his conduct generally was very eccentric indeed.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Did he speak of going to Australia at all? A. I do not recollect that he did—I did not ask him what he was making the bullets for, and he did not tell me—his conduct was generally strange, his general conversation was very strange, he used to talk such nonsense generally—on one occasion he had got the pistol down in the kitchen, pulling it to pieces, and putting it together again—I spoke to him about it, and he told me he liked to have a pistol by him for protection—he said nothing more to me that I considered nonsense—I considered that nonsense, I thought it rather strange—my wife and sister used very often to tell me of the curious remarks he has made to them during the day—they made communications to me about him at different times, almost every day.

MR. METCALFE. Q. I suppose you were generally out on duty as a policeman? A. Yes, almost every day—I did not see or hear so much—from what I did see, my opinion decidedly was that he was very strange in his manner.

WILLIAM ESSEX . I live at No. 7, Carthusian-street, Aldersgate-street—about the beginning of July, 1854, the prisoner lodged with me for one

week—at the end of that time I ordered him to quit, in consequence of the strangeness of his conduct, I did not like him; he was up and down stairs in the night—he went to bed, and left the candle burning close to his bedstead, and went to sleep—I was obliged to wake him to put it out—I considered it dangerous—I cannot say for what purpose he went up and down stairs of a night—it occurred once or twice—on two different nights—I did not hear it more than once on each night, he was not very noisy about it—I cannot say whether it was after he had gone to bed—I should think it was about 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning—I did not hear him about his room particularly—he was in the habit of talking to himself, but not that I heard much of—I did not hear him talking to himself—from what I did see of him I could not form an opinion to say that he was a madman, but I considered he was a very strange man, which was my reason for getting rid of him immediately, as the shortest course.

MARGARET JONES . I reside at No. 29, Red Cross-square. About Aug., 1854, the prisoner took a lodging at my house—he staid between three and four months—his conduct was very strange indeed—he would make his tea in a mug, not an open mug, in a very narrow one, and he told me if anybody came after him to shove them into the gutter—his conduct was strange in almost everything—he used to sit for two or three hours at a time and would not speak to any one.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Have you told us all the circumstances that you considered to be strange about him? A. I went to his room once, and I did not know he was there—I took in'a clean blind to put up, and he made a dreadful noise, it frightened me at the time—I do not know whether he was angry, I thought that he was out of his mind—he made a nasty noise, just like a dog, grumbling or complaining about my coming in; it was a very strange noise indeed—he said I had no business to come to his room, and I thought I had, to do that—it was about 10 o'clock in the morning—the mug he made his tea in was a little china one, with no caver to it—I have told you all that I observed strange in him during the three months he was with me.

MR. METCALFE. Q. From what you observed during the time he was there, what impression had you as to the state of his mind? A. In everything he did not seem right to me, I thought so at the time.

WILLIAM CARTER . I live at No. 78, Margaret-street, Bagnigge Wells-road—about the end of 1854, or the beginning of 1855, the prisoner took an apartment at my house, I think it was about Dec., he remained about three weeks—he carried on a very strange conduct altogether while he was with me—he used to shove his things about and get very much excited at different times, and aroused our suspicions very much, in fact, we got rather fidgetty, and afraid of him—his symptoms altogether were those of a person not in his right state of mind—he used very often to look up the chimney, and say it was too large, there was too much wind and too much draught—he also found fault with the key hole, and said that the door did not close tight enough—there was no draught, the door was as correct as any door need be; there was no more draught from the chimney than usual—it was a very comfortable room, he very frequently used to pull his bed about the room, and sometimes swore—I do not know whether he alluded to any one, it was chiefly to himself—he used to appear very much excited at times whilst he was alone—I could hear what he said very plainly, because we lived in the next room to him—he said if he did not have this, or that—he was in such deep conversation, and talked so fast we could hardly understand what he did say—I can hardly explain distinctly what language he

used—he was always in a very excited state, as if he hardly knew what he was saying—he denied himself to his friends—I remember once telling him that two ladies had been to see him—he behaved very oddly indeed then—he said they should not come into his apartments, and he did not want to see them, and tore about and seemed to put himself very much out of the way about it—he wandered about the house, from his apartments to the street door, and in the yard, and was always very much excited in his demeanour generally, as if he was not safe to be at large, that is the plain thing, that was the impression on my mind.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON, Q. Have you told us all the circumstances from which you came to the conclusion that he was not fit to be trusted alone? A. Yes—I believe that one of the ladies who called was his sister, and the other his aunt—I cannot say what he meant when he said he would do something if they did not—he was in such an excited state at times I could not explain it, and it was not my business to ask him unless he interfered with me—I was afraid he would do so, but he did not—letters came for him, I do not know from whom—there were one or two, there might have been more—I used to find him a good deal excited after he got his letters, and before too—I cannot tell you more of what he said when he said he could do something; it was, "If I don't have this, I will, I must and I will; it shall be done, I will have it"—that was what we could make out, nothing more.

COURT. Q. You did not know what he was speaking of? A. No; he was talking in such an excited state, that I could not explain what he said—we rather went in fear of him to see him in such an excited state, and likewise to see those pistols.

ELIZABETH RIPPON . I live at No. 34, Coldbath-square. The prisoner came to lodge with me about Nov. or Dec., 1854—I do not rightly remember which; he remained until 5th Feb. 1855—the last witness is under a delusion, he has made a mistake as to the time the prisoner was with him—I know he came to take my lodging about a fortnight before Christmas, and I kept it for him a week—when he came to take the lodging he displayed symptoms of great curiosity—I thought he seemed very strange in his manners—he made several very strange remarks about the room, and went and stooped down and felt all the cracks round the room, to feel if there were any draughts—I asked him for a reference, and he said, "A reference! oh, that is all d—d humbug, I never give a reference; if I give you a month's money in advance, that will be reference sufficient for you"—I never heard any noises in the night—I went into his room one evening, and I saw the fire broom suspended from the fender to the bed; it was not a large room, consequently the handle of it was long enough to reach; a chair was turned upside down, and a coat was placed upon it, as though it was some one dressed and sitting there—it was stuck up to represent a man—I noticed the prisoner's manner from the time of his first coming to the house—he came in a cab, and he quarrelled with the cowman very much, and was in a dreadfully excited state—I have repeatedly heard him talking to himself—he must have talked loud or I should not have heard him—I have spoken to him three or four times without getting any answer, and then he has started up on a sudden, and seemed astonished, and said, "Eh, what!" and then he has given an indirect answer—I formed the impression that he was not sane, and it was under that impression that he had notice to quit our house—I gave him notice to quit.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Was the weather very cold when he came to your house? A. Yes; extremely cold—it was some time in

Jan. that this matter occurred about the coat—it was a dress coat, one that he wore in the day time—it was placed over the chair; it was about 7 o'clock one evening—he was out, there was no fire—I lighted the fire in the morning—it was let out during the day, and lighted again in the evening, because he was always at home in the evening—the chair was turned with the bottom of the rails upwards, and the coat was placed over the back, with the" collar upwards—I did not remove it, or touch it, I left it as I saw it—the broom was suspended from the fireplace to the bedstead, it did not touch the chair—I do not know at what time he came home that night, we scarcely knew when he came in, he was always in very early, but having an open shop, he was in and out when he pleased, he came through the shop—I never spoke to him about the coat on the chair, because I knew he was very strange in his ways, and we always treated him as a man that was not right in his mind—I have not given all my reasons for thinking so—he made use of some very bad language to me upon his first coming to our house—he had told me that he would give me a month in advance, consequently when he came I expected it; and he said, "I shall not give you a month in advance, I shall only give you a week, I may not be here but a week"—I said, "If I had known that, I should not have let you the lodging; you engaged to give me a month"—he said, "I shan't do it"—I said, "You are going from your word"—he looked round the room in a very strange way, turned down the bed, looked into the washhand basin and jug, and all the places; and I said to him, "I don't understand you, I don't think you are altogether right, I had much rather you paid a week's lodging and quit"—he turned round to me, and said, "Who the devil are you speaking to, do you know I am a gentleman, I am better than you and your husband, or anybody belonging to you;" that was language that was not called for, and the wild look of his eye convinced me he was not right—he then said he should not go at the week; my husband came up and spoke to him, and desired he would leave immediately—he said he would not go—then he said he would leave at the week, but previously to the week expiring, he came and asked us if we would allow him to remain—my husband said he had no objection if he conducted himself with propriety, and he staid on—still we saw all these strange ways about him up to the period of his leaving—he was very abrupt, and spoke on all occasions very uncivilly indeed—the last time he came in, I asked him if he wanted anything—he said, "Give me a light"—my husband heard him, and said he would not allow him to speak so to me, and he went up and told him to suit himself with a lodging—he said he would not go at the week, not till two days over the week: we allowed him to remain till then, and then he left the house quietly—he had a little dog that he brought into the lodging, and he used to keep it in the cupboard where he kept his food; he kept it there at night, and he appeared to be a very clean young man, and I thought that was not the action of a person in his mind; he would put it on the shelf, and it slept there—I do not remember what the indirect answer was which he made to me after speaking to him three times—I spoke to him several times, and on different matters that he wished to have done, and he would never answer correctly, he would humph and hah—I think I have stated all that I observed.

MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You said something about his looking into the basin, and other articles in the room; did he give any reason for doing that? A. He said the water was dirty—it was not dirty, because I had cleansed the utensils myself—he looked into all the places in the room—they were not many, because it was not a large room—he gave the same

reason for that—he was very uncivil to me—we were very glad to get rid of him, because we always considered Mm as not right in his mind.

MART HUME . The prisoner came to lodge at my house on 5th Feb., last year—I noticed his conduct during the time he was there—he had very peculiar strange ways about him—he used to have such strange ways with cooking his victuals, and he locked himself in—I used to light his fire, and after I had done so he used to poke it out again—he did it four times in one afternoon—I do not remember whether the weather was cold or not at that time—he desired me to light it again; four times I went up—one night I went up, and he was in a very bad way—whether it was a fit, or what it was, I could not say, but he was lashing cold water about his head; the window was thrown open to the very top, and all the doors were open—he was walking up and down a large room, which did not belong to him—I asked him what was the matter—he said he could not tell; he thought he was going to be strangled—his handkerchief was off his neck, and all his clothes, except his trowsers—his shirt was on—he seemed to look very strange, and to think that something was going to come over him—I observed his eyes—they used sometimes to look very small, and his features would be'quite altered, and at other times he was more calm and composed—it was by candle light that I saw him on the night I speak of—I asked him if he would have any medicine—he told me he always kept medicine by him—I said, "Then you had better have a drop of brandy"—I went down stairs to get it; and when I came back with it, he had locked the door, and locked himself in—I knocked at the door as hard as I could, thinking he was perhaps in a fit, or something, and he would not answer; so I went down stairs, and saw no more of him that night—I do not recollect whether it was that night that I heard him out of bed, or not—it was his own room that he locked himself in—I inquired of him the next day how he was, and he seemed to shove off the story—he did not seem to like to answer anything about it—he did not say much about it—it was merely as he was going through the passage that we inquired how he was that morning, if he was well again, and he muttered something, I could not tell what—he seemed not to be pleased to answer us—I once saw a pistol in his bed, under his pillow—I do not know whether it was loaded or not—I had gone up to make his bed—he was down stairs at breakfast—I happened to lift the I pillow, and saw the pistol—I did not go near it, but went down, and asked him if it was loaded—he said, what was that to me, because it would not hurt me if it was—I said I would not give it the chance, for, until he went up and removed it, I should do nothing to his room—he went up and removed it, and put it into a cupboard, and I never saw it afterwards—sometimes he would take no notice of what was said to him—one morning, in particular, he came down to breakfast, and the cloth was on the table from 10 till 12 o'clock, and he sat, looking at a book, but never speaking—I came down, and said, "Don'tyou want any breakfast to-day?—he never answered me—I said "Are you well, or not?" and he turned round, and asked me what I was asking him that for—I said. "Because when people are not well they can't eat"—he turned about to me very abruptly, and said, was it anything peculiar to me that he was not taking any breakfast—I said, "Oh, no, not the least"—so I took the doth off the table, and he went up stairs.

Cross-examined by MR. CLERK. Q. You thought it very peculiar that a person should not eat his breakfast? A. Yes, I did, because he did not complain of illness—he looked very strange in the face that morning—there

was a peculiar look about him—he had a book, and was sitting before the fire, and never troubled his head about the breakfast—the table was waiting for him, with his breakfast—he always brought down his own victuals—he was very particular in his victuals—he always did everything in his own place—I live at No. 2, Coburg-street—he was there from 5th Feb. until April—he would boil his tea in a little tin pot, and coffee and everything in the same concern, not at the same time, coffee at one time, and tea at another—he used always to bring in his victuals at night, and make us cook them—we used to cook them up stairs at night, and he used to keep them in his room—he brought in his bread and butter, and whatever he wanted—we did not supply him with any of his victuals—they remained in his cupboard until they were finished—I know that he poked the fire out four times on one occasion, because I heard him, and I told him of it at the time—all the remark he made was that his fire would not light, and he wanted to lay me a sovereign that it would not light—he never called to as on any occasion, when he wanted anything, he always came out on the landing with his stick, and knocked, and called, "Hoy!"—that was his signal—I took up wood and firing four times that afternoon—on each occasion the fire seemed as if it had been poked out, the pieces of wood were lying in the fireplace—I do not think it was above an hour, from the first time I lighted it to the last.

ARCHIBALD HUME . I am the husband of the last witness. The prisoner's conduct was very singular indeed from the time of his coining into the house—he told me that the reason he was going to leave our house was, that he wanted a larger room to hatch chickens by steam, he thought he could make a very good living by it.

Cross-examined by MR. CLERK. Q. Did you ever hear that chickens were hatched by steam? A. I have heard of such things, but I never saw it—I think it is a possible thing.

MR. BALLANTINE. Q. And that a good fortune may be made by it? A. No, I doubt that.

MART EDWARDS . I live in Oxford-terrace, Caledonian-road. The prisoner lodged with me at the end of April and the beginning of May last for three weeks—his manners were very eccentric—the room he took was a small room, not a large one—he did not attempt to hatch any chickens there—he left because he said the distance was too far—we supposed he was about taking a situation.

JOHN CREECH . In Sept last I lived with my mother, at No. 94, Lissongrove. I had previous to that time been one of the attendants at Grovehall Lunatic Asylum—whilst I was living with my mother, the prisoner came to lodge there—I think he came in April, and he remained about five months—the greater portion of the time he slept in the next room to me—I frequently used to bear him talking very much in the night, and sometimes he would appear to be shouting out to somebody—I have heard him say sometimes very bitterly, "No, d—you, you shan't do it," and that sort of thing—that was sometimes at 12 or 1 o'clock in the night—it disturbed me very much, and I used to notice it—I got used to it, I had been used to it long before—I cannot say that it was every night, but it was very frequently—I have often conversed with him—sometimes he would speak very rationally, at other times perhaps in the midst of his conversation he would break off in a very strange sort of manner—sometimes he would not answer at all—I have frequently gone in, and he would not speak to me at all—he seemed quite lost, and would take no notice—I have sometimes noticed

that he has looked very wild—I was five months at Grove-hall Asylum—there were about 140 patients there—I thought at first that the prisoner was rather eccentric, and hearing these sort of things I said to my mother that I thought he was not exactly right—I think he was at times in his right mind, but I do not think he was always—I have gone into his room, and found him lying about on the floor and on the bed, apparently quite lost, lying straight down, as though he had thrown himself down in a languid sort of manner, but quite lost, as if he was deep in thought—I have on those occasions perhaps made an observation, such as "Good morning," or "Good evening," as the case might be, but he has never answered me—he was not asleep, but he did not move or seem to take the least notice.

Cross-examined by MR. CLABKSON. Q. Who is the proprietor of this establishment that you belonged to? A. Mr. Byas—I am not there now—I left there about March last—I was there about five months—I left because I was not at all adapted for that sort of thing—it did not suit me—I did not like it—the doctor said he thought I had better get something else, he thought it was a situation that did not suit me—I merely went there on trial, but I stopped five months, and was then discharged, not being adapted for the situation—I was not at the asylum at the time the prisoner lodged with my mother—I thought his conduct altogether very strange, at one time being very civil and social, at other times not speaking, his being so lost, and his talking of a night, and going on in that peculiar manner—I think it was the earlier part of the time that he talked in the night—I do not know whether he used to receive letters—he never talked to me about his lawsuit—I never heard him talk about it or about his property—he seemed to be speaking in the night as though conversing with some one—I do not know what he said—I could merely hear his voice as though he was speaking, and then he shouted out in a loud voice, "No, d——you, you shan't; I will see that you don't; I will take care that you don't; I will prevent you doing it," something to that effect—I could hear that because he shouted it out in a very loud voice.

MART SKEET . I was servant to Mrs. Williams, of No. 51, Bingfield-street, Caledonian-road. The prisoner lodged there from the 10th to the 30th Sept.—the first night that he frightened me, he called through the keyhole, "I am in the dark, bring me a light," and he had a light all the time in his room—I had given him one, and I saw that he had a light after he called that out—one night he rang the bell very hard—I went up to him, and he had a large sheet of paper in his hands, on fire, and went to the window with it—lie said, "Go into the next room a little while, I don't feel very well"—he was all undressed but his trowsers—he opened the window, and called out, "Hoy!"—I saw that the toilet cover on the table was on fire; I went down stairs and went out into the street, and went over to Mrs. Lilly white, and when I came back again he was dressed, and out on the pavement, looking up at his window—he said, "Was there no one in the house but you?"—I said, "Yes, sir, but I went to Mrs. Lilly white's to see if mistress was there, as a lady wanted her"—next morning he said to me, "I called you last night; it was very dangerous; I might have set the place on fire; I was burning the evil spirit out of the room"—he had a pair of glass candlesticks on his mantelpiece, and one night, as I was giving him a light, he said, "Bring me up a brass candlestick, for I have smashed one of the others"—he said he was in a fit, or something, and he could not sleep in that room another night if you were to give him 1,000l., for it was haunted—we

changed him into the next room, and he stayed there a week—during the time he was there, he ran up and down stairs very much indeed—I did not hear him say anything while he was doing so—he said he had blue veins all over his face—that was one day when he came down stairs—he used to frighten me very much, and he seemed very strange.

Cross-examined by MR. GIFFARD. Q. What time was it when you gave him the light? A. Between 6 and 7 o'clock—I gave him a candle in a candlestick; I think there was about half a candle—I did not take him another light when he asked for it—I do not know whether he used all his candle that night—he used to go up stairs to his room to read—he put out the toilet cover that was on fire, all the edges were burnt, and up one side—it was the next morning that he spoke of burning the evil spirit out of the room—that was all he said—I came down stain then—he did not appear to be laughing when he said that—I did not laugh.

DAVID GREEN . I live at No. 16, Catherine-street, Caledonian-road. In the beginning of Oct., 1855, the prisoner came to lodge with ma—he remained one month—his general demeanour was very eccentric indeed—when he wanted his room to be done, instead of mentioning any time at which he wished it done, he used to unlock my parlour door, and go in and sit down; and, on one occasion, I went in and spoke to him about it, and he merely said he wanted his room done—I told him I could not allow him to sit down in my parlour without my permission—that was one instance.

MARY ANN LINSTEAD . I live in Charles-street, Trevor-square. The prisoner came to reside there on Monday, 5th Nov. last—he remained till the following Monday—he left because he complained that the room smoked—it did smoke—I frequently heard him in his room at night as if he was knocking things about the room—I heard him two or three nights, in the middle of the night, when I awoke—he never closed his door very early—I heard this after he had dosed his door—I heard him talking a little—I remember one evening seeing him on the landing with a handkerchief round his neck; he had got it very tight round his throat, his face looked rather discoloured, and with great difficulty I undid the handkerchief, then unbuttoned his collar, and I gave him some water—he said he was ill, he thought he was going to have a fit, and I perceived his handkerchief to be very tight—he was on the landing—he made a noise in his throat when he drank the water—his handkerchief was tied in a tight knot—I have every reason to believe it must have been pulled very tight, it was with great difficulty I undid it—it could not have fallen into a knot out of a bow, it was tied—after I had untied it, he went into his own room, and I went down stairs, and in a few minutes after he walked up and down the garden, and then he came in by the back door—I heard the door make a noise as if he had gone back against the door, and I took the candle and came out, and he was then standing on the top of the stairs with his handkerchief tied round again—I undid it again for him—he said he was very ill, he looked very wild about the eyes—it was tied quite as tight as it had been before, I had very great difficulty in undoing it—I have seen him standing on the steps of the stairs about twice, quite lost in thought—shortly before he left, I cooked a mutton chop for him, and took it up to him, and he cut it in pieces, and took it out in the garden, and walked about eating it—it was raining at the time—he had no umbrella, he walked about without his hat on, eating the chop.

Cross-examined by MR. CLERK. Q. Had he a plate with him, or was he holding it in his hand? A. He had a plate, he was eating it with his

fingers out of the plate—this was one Friday in Nov.—he left on the Monday following—that was the only occasion on which he ate his dinner in the garden—it was about 6 o'clock in the evening that I saw him with the handkerchief tied round his neck—it was dark then—he had a light in his room—I occupied the adjoining room to his—he never used to call anybody by their name, when he wanted anything he used to say, "Hoy!?—he did not halloo then—he made some sort of noise with his feet, and I came out of my room to him—he said he was very ill, and he thought he was going to have a fit—that was before I untied his handkerchief—he spoke to me before I untied it—he said that, and then I untied it—it frightened me so that I did not ask him how he came to tie it so tight—the second time, when he found I could not undo it, he said, "You may cut it if you like"—I said, "It is a nice handkerchief I will try and undo it," and I did undo it with great difficulty—altogether, he seemed very strange, I did not like to stop in the room so close to him—I said, "I hope you will not do so again"—he made no answer, but walked away—he never made you any answer if you asked him a question.

REBECCA PHILLIPS . I live at No. 23, Kaphael-street, Trevor-square. The prisoner came to lodge with me on 12th Nov., and remained till 28th Dec.—he was very eccentric in his ways—he talked to himself very much and very loud, so that I often used to hear what he was talking about—one day I heard a great noise of scuffling in his room with the fire irons and fender, as if he was fighting with some person—I thought he had some one in the room; I heard him say, "Oh! I have got you now, have I; I thought I should catch you"—I was in my front parlour, and he was in the back parlour—I did not go in to him—I found out afterwards thai he was by himself—a few minutes afterwards, I heard him say, "I shall set the place on fire presently"—next morning when I went into the room, I noticed that my toilet covers were lying on the floor, and I picked them up, and examined them, and saw that the corner of one of them was very much burnt, both of them were burnt, and the counterpane also—he went out in the morning as usual, before I saw him—in the evening he knocked at my door, and said he was ill—I asked what was the matter, he said he had had a fit; he had a basin three parts full of cold water in his hand, and he was bathing his fece—I asked if he was subject to fits—he said yes, he was—my husband asked if he should get him a doctor—he said he did not know of one—my husband asked if he would allow him to take him to a doctor—he said he thought he should like to go to a doctor—he said he was subject to these fits, and if I ever found him in one, I was to put his head in a pail of cold water—he said that from nine years of age he had always been ill every Friday—I observed a wildness about his appearance—we thought it was not a fit, we thought he looked very wild—I observed this sort of conduct very much during the time he was with me.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. What did he say about putting his head into cold water, and a doctor? A. He said he would go to a doctor—my husband took him to Dr. Beeber, in the Brompton-road—he gave him a little medicine; the prisoner told me if I ever saw him in a fit, I was not to let him die, but I was to put his head into a pail of cold water, and call in some doctor, and not let him be lost for the want of a doctor—I did not name the burnt counterpane to him, he looked so wild and desponding, and he was going to leave so shortly—my husband said to him, "You had something of a fit last night, had you not?"—he said, "Oh, no! it is all right" my husband said, "I heard you making a great scuffle, I thought, perhaps,

you had a fit, as you have been subject to them since you were nine years of age"—he said, "Oh, no! it was nothing of that"—he said nothing more; we wanted to know what it was, but he was so very strange in his manner we did not name it again, as he was going to leave—I think he was in the habit of reading in bed—I used to observe a light in his room very late; I cannot say whether he was up or in bed—bis habit was to be in his room very early, but whether he went to bed or not I do not know—I used often to hear him putting up the shutters at 2 o'clock in the morning, or 12 o'clock at night—one night about half past 12 o'clock, he knocked at the foldingdoors between my room and his, and asked me to call him at 8 o'clock in the morning—we had been in bed for some hours, and I thought he had been also—he was very irrational—I really thought he was not quite right in his mind—all his ways were not like other gentlemen that I had been used to—he was very strange in all his manners, in every way—I used often to see him sitting over the fire with his hands on his knees, and I would knock at the door three or four times before he would answer me; and I have heard him say inside, "What the devil does she want here, I wonder?"—once when I spoke rather loud to him, because he did not answer after I had spoken once or twice, he was in such a desponding state, he said, "I am rather deaf," but at another time I observed that he was not deaf—he heard me at some times better than at others—I used often to hear him talk to himself very much—he used to say, "I will give it to him; he shall have it; I have put up with it long enough; I won't put up with it any longer; I won't stand it any longer"—he used to talk like that very frequently, but I could not hear every word distinctly—I often heard him mumbling and talking to himself night and day; if ever I awoke, I used always to hear him talking to himself—I think I have told you all that I recollect hearing him say.

FRANCIS HAYES re-examined. I did not search the prisoner, I was close to him when he was searched—there were two halves of two notes given up to the prisoner's brother by order of the Magistrate—they are not here, I have the numbers of them—I inquired of the prisoner where the other halves were—he refused to tell me—I got some information, and went to a place and did not find them—the No. of the 10l. note is, J. K., 20,675; dated Nov. 5th, 1855; and of the 5l. note, J. L., No. 11,308; dated Dec., 1855.

THOMAS HOOPER . I am a Manchester warehouseman, in Friday-street—I know the prisoner—in consequence of some communication I received, I went to George-alley, Thames-street—I there found a small paper parcel—it was in a portion of the building of the house, between the brick and a piece of the story post that runs up the building—I do not know who the premises belonged to—I have the parcel, it contains the two. halves of a 5l. and 10l. note—they have not been out of my possession, they were wrapped up in a small piece of paper, and tied up with a piece of cotton—the Nos. are 20,675, and 11,308; one for 10l., and the other for 5l.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Have you known the prisoner for any length of time? A. I first became acquainted with him about twelve years since—he has called on me within the last two years—I lived at Wellington, where his father lived—I am not one of the friends of the family—I only knew him as an acquaintance, I do not know the family.

Q. Have you ever observed anything that you considered to be irrational about him? A. He has called at my place of business, and asked me if I could assist him to a situation, and I told him I thought he had sufficient means not to go into one, but to live without—he said he should have sufficient

property, but he had a rogue of a lawyer to do with, that had cajoled him out of his property, and that was the reason he wanted to get a berth—he did not mention the name of the lawyer—this was about six months since, as near as I can remember—that was all that passed between us on that occasion—I have not seen him since, except, I think, I passed him one night in the Gray's Inn-road, but I am not positive—I think the first time he called xipon me in London was somewhere about twelve or eighteen months since—I had no conversation with him then on the subject of his affairs, he merely called to say "How do you do?"—in fact, I met him in the street, before he called at the warehouse, and told him where I was living, and that was the reason he called—it was about eighteen months afterwards that he called—he did not spend the afternoon with me, only about five minutes, just came in, and said "How do you do?"—I had not an opportunity of observing much about him at that time, I did not discern anything very particular—I observed that he appeared very excited when he spoke about the solicitor doing him out of his property.

Q. But when upon any other subject of conversation, from that eighteen months down to the present time, have you observed anything about him to lead you to the conclusion that he was insane? A. I have not been in his company at all, only on those two occasions—that was all I observed of excitement about him—I had been to the house before where I found these half notes—I went on Monday last, near the spot—that was before I found them—I went there from a communication the prisoner made to me in Newgate; he gave me to understand that the two half notes were deposited near there—I found them on Tuesday afternoon, the day before yesterday—I saw the prisoner again in Newgate on Tuesday, and an officer accompanied me to the spot that he then gave me fresh instructions about—he said, "If you go near Ducksfoot-lane, you will find in a crevice in the wall, in an iron shoot, a piece of paper with the two half notes wrapped up"—it was in consequence of what he told me that I found the half notes—he told me he had placed them there—he did not say when, I did not ask him, because it was no business of mine to ask the question, I did not think it of sufficient consequence—I went to Newgate to see him from a note that he sent me—this is it (producing it)—I believe I have stated all that passed between us on the subject—I was not told on the Monday or Tuesday that I was to be a witness, I was on Wednesday—the prisoner's brother told me he thought I should be required; and I saw Mr. Lewis, the prisoner's solicitor, yesterday, and he said my attendance would be required here to day—(Letter read: "Newgate, Monday morning. Mr. Hooper,—Call and see me if you possibly can any time before 4 o'clock to day, as I have something to say to you. Do not speak about it if you call. From yours truly, CHARLES WESTRON.")—This was in a public thoroughfare—I got my knife and took it out from the crevice.

THOMAS RODDER . I am a solicitor, and reside at Wellington, in the county of Somerset—that is the place the prisoner comes from—I have known him from a child, and his family well—his father was never confined in a lunatic asylum, but he cut his throat, from which he died; he committed suicide—I administered to his estate and effects as one of his creditors, and in consequence of that, I was one of the parties to the Chancery suit which relates to this unhappy question—Mr. Waugh was my town solicitor, he behaved most kindly to the family, in fact, he was the real means of getting the estates for them—the prisoner must have known that—I have known the prisoner from a child, he was always of a morbid disposition, a sullen temper—the last time I saw him before now, was at Tiverton, Mr. Waugh

advertised the estates to be sold there, and he came down—I was present on that occasion—his manner and demeanour then was most sullen; he would not say anything—he appeared to be in a sulky disposition and temper altogether—that was about six months ago—I knew an uncle of his, his father's brother, Mr. Robert Westron—I believe he committed suicide, but I only know it from hearsay—no doubt there is a considerable amount of insanity in the family—Mr. Waugh was one of the kindest friends they ever had, he completely took up their cause altogether—they would not have had any one to have done it if it had not been for Mr. Waugh.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. I suppose the estate had been foreclosed, had it not? A. No—Mr. Westron married, and his wife's father left these estates in the parish of Ashbrettle, giving a power of appointment to Mr. Westron and his wife during their joint lives; and, in the event of that not taking place, a power of appointment to the survivor; Mr. Westron survived his wife, and he appointed to his eldest daughter, and subsequently he appointed the estate to her in tail; they then suffered a common recovery, and she made a will, and gave the estate to Mr. Westron; so he got the fee; and then he mortgaged the property, I think for 4,000l.—the estate was not encumbered at the time; it was to be sold at Tiverton—it was settled at that time—I believe the prisoner objected to the upset price at which the estate was to be sold—I do not think I heard him say anything about it at that time; I was in conversation with Mr. Waugh; in fact, he scarcely said anything; he sat sulky—I do not know what passed between him and Mr. Waugh.

JOHN WELCH . I am a surgeon, and live at No. 3, Devonshire-place. I knew Mr. Robert Westron, of the firm, of Westron and Dignam, warehousemen—he was the brother of the prisoner's father—for upwards of the last twelve months of his life he was under restraint, and for three days before his death he was in Dr. Still well's private asylum—he hung himself there.

FREDERICK WESTRON . I am a brother of the prisoner. I knew Harriet Westron, my father's sister—she died in a lunatic asylum at Brompton—she had been confined there some time.

FARNHAM FLOWER . I am in the medical profession. Three years ago I was called in to attend the prisoner—he was then living at Park-hill, in Somersetshire, with his brother in law—it was a difficult matter to say what was the matter with him, in as much as, from his extreme peculiarity, I could not get any rational reply to the questions I put to him—he was evidently suffering under considerable mental disturbance at the time—if I asked him a question to get at his ailment, his replies were so perfectly irrelevant that I could not at all satisfy myself as to the precise nature of his disease—I had no question at all that his mind was affected at that time—the opinion I then formed was that he was evidently suffering from mental aberration—I have not had much to do with the treatment of lunatics, not more than falls to the ordinary lot of men in general practice—I have not been attached to any institution at all—I have been in Court to-day.

Q. You have heard the history of his career for the last two years given in Court to-day; taking that into consideration, with what you observed of him, have you formed any opinion of the state of his mind at the time this act was committed? A. It is only confirmatory of the opinion I had formed, that he was not in a sound state—may I state that, upon returning after visiting him a few times, I communicated to my partner the opinion

I had formed at the time—I was not at all surprised at the act he committed.

Q. From the evidence you have heard to-day, and the opportunity you had of observing him upon the occasions when you visited him, do you think he knew the nature and quality of the act he was doing? A. That I cannot say—I have seen nothing of him since the period I have referred to, two or three years since—assuming everything that has been proved to-day to be well founded in fact, I should not think he was conscious of the difference between right and wrong—I should not imagine, from the state in which I saw him two years ago, if he was not improved in his mind, that he could be cognizant of what was right and wrong—if the evidence I have heard to-day be true, I should certainly say his mind was not better—at the time I saw him, I should say he could not understand the difference between right and wrong.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Did you treat him on that occasion? A. I did, in the way that struck me as the best—in the first place, I endeavoured to set the secretions which were wrong, right; I mean, to act on the stomach, by giving-him aperients and such medicine as I thought necessary—I cannot charge my memory with the exact medicines I gave him—I gave him a dose of calomel and a black draught, and I pursued that system as long as I thought necessary—I cannot say for how long, for I had no expectation of being called upon; perhaps for a fortnight or three weeks—that is about two or three years ago—I have not seen anything of him since—I treated him for derangement of his general health, evidencing itself in a disturbed state of his mind—I treated him as any person would have done, I suppose, if he had been in an asylum.

Q. What were the circumstances from which you concluded that his mind was disturbed? A. When I asked him any question as to his state, his replies were as irrelevant as possible—if I asked him how his secretions were, he would answer in some very indifferent way, he would not confine himself to that—I cannot recollect what he did say, it is too long ago, I am only speaking of the general facts of the case—he was living with his brother in law at that time—he was not under restraint—he was in bed—he has not been under restraint since, that I know of, but I was impressed at the time mth the necessity of his being so—I did not tell that to his brother in law—I have several times referred to the fact since, and said, "I am sure your brother is insane, he was insane when I saw him"—I told his brother in law that, when I heard of the unfortunate event that has placed him where he is—I have referred to it before that, but never spoke so strongly—I did not hear what the letters were exactly that have been read—I heard one of the witnesses state that he appeared to be very much excited when he spoke of having been done by a rogue of a lawyer—that does not produce any effect upon my mind, or alter my opinion in any way—it does not occur to me as furnishing any motive on his part for this act, none whatever—I have known nothing of him since the period I have referred to, nor am I acquainted with his antecedents—I have not seen him in Newgate.

Q. Do you mean seriously to say that you think the circumstances you have heard stated, and what occurred when you saw him three years ago, will justify you in saying that in your, opinion he was not aware that he was guilty of any infraction of the law when'he shot Mr. Waugh? A. That is asking me a question perhaps which I should be hardly expected to

answer 90 unequivocally as you put it—I am further convinced, from the evidence I have heard, that his mind has not improved since I saw him in Somersetshire—I did at that time consider him in a state not cognizant of tight and wrong—I do not know that he would not know it was wrong to kill a man—I was not surprised at this at all—he evidenced a very disturbed state of mind, such as that I inferred from it that he was incapable of judging right from wrong—I inferred it from the circumstances I have named, his irrelevant answers, and sometimes, in reply to my question, he would put a question to me, but expressed in language of a very incoherent character, such as no one could understand—I cannot now recollect the questions he put to me—I am speaking of the impression upon my mind at that time.

COURT. Q. Do you say you are of opinion, from what you saw of him at that time, that he would be incapable of knowing that it would be wrong to kill a man? A. I would infer that he was in a state not to be at large—as to his knowing whether it would be wrong to kill a man, that is a question which it is very difficult to answer—it is next to impossible that any individual can speak of a person as incapable of knowing that killing another is wrong—I can only say that his mind was in a disturbed state, and in such a state that he ought to have been placed under confinement.

MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You say you did not inform his brother in law, but I believe you informed your partner? A. I did.

ROBERT SYNNOT, ESQ ., M. D. I live at No. 16, Eaton-terrace. I have had a considerable amount of experience with lunatics, and in insane cases, for some years past—I have attended Dr. Sutherland's establishment, and been under his instructions, and acted with him for a considerable period—I have seen the prisoner—I had a short interview with him in Newgate yesterday evening, in the presence of the surgeon of the gaol—I had never seen him before—it was only a short interview, I should have preferred a longer one—I was able, from the length of time I was with him, to form a judgment—I formed the opinion, that there was a very great deficiency of mind about him—in arriving at a conclusion as to the sanity or insanity of a person, the state of mind of the father and collateral relations is a most important feature—I have heard the evidence that has been given on the subject of his father, his uncle, and one of his aunts, and I have also heard the evidence that has been given throughout the whole of this case—if all the facts deposed to by the witnesses be true, I think the prisoner was not able to distinguish right from wrong at the time he committed the act in question.

Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Do you mean to say that you think he was not aware that killing a man was wrong? A. I do not say that, but I say I do not think him conscious of the moral guilt he was about, to commit—I do not think he was aware of the enormity of the act he was about doing—I do not say that he did not know that the act of killing a man was wrong, many lunatics do—many lunatics know that such an act would be wrong—I do not say that I believe him to be among them; I think not—I do not think him capable of judging whether he was acting right or wrong—I did not hear the letters, with the exception of the letter written about the two notes, that was the only letter I heard—I do not form any judgment at all from that—I never recollect a patient treating his delusion jocularly upon any occasion; whatever the delusion may be, they believe it with all their soul—I should consider the expression in the letter

that the life of the man on his right hung upon a puff of smoke, to be a threat that he intended him some injury by means of fire arms—I have heard that he stated to one of the witnesses that he had been cheated of his property by a rogue of a lawyer, and that in giving his account of it he was in a very excited state—I cannot say that that produces any impression upon my mind—he may have made up his mind long ago to destroy Mr. Waugh—I never saw him until last night—I was with him about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—I asked him first after his general health; he made no answer at first; afterwards he said, "Pretty well," or "Pretty good"—I said, "What was your motive for killing Mr. Waugb?"—he said because he had robbed him or plundered him of 800l.; that he had given him a written promise to pay him upon a certain date a sum of 400l., and the money was not paid to him; that he was very anxious to go abroad, but he could not do so, not having this money; that Mr. Wangh knew a great deal too much about him—he then became quite confused in his manner of speaking; in fact, he spoke unintelligibly about certain parties agreeing with certain other parties to do this, and others to do that—those were his expressions, as near as I can recollect—he walked away from me, and returned once or twice, but I could get no further explanation from him than what I have mentioned, that certain parties wanted to do certain acts, and had combined with others to do them; but no further explanation could I get—he did not name the other parties, he mentioned no names, only answered my questions about Mr. Waugh—I asked him many questions, to which he appeared to pay no attention, or as if he did not hear them; at any rate, he took no notice of them—I asked him how long he had made up his mind to shoot Mr. Waugh before he committed the murder—he gave me no answer to that—I asked him how he slept—he said, "Pretty well"—I again came back to his general health, and asked him was it good—he mumbled an answer which I could not catch—I think that was the whole of the conversation, as far as I can recollect—from his manner of answering, and his general appearance, I should have certainly considered him a person of unsound mind—his general appearance was suspicious, indicated by the sudden sidelong look of his eye; extreme suspicion—I think I have now described the symptoms I observed.

Q. Do you mean to tell us, upon the judgment you have formed, upon the oath you have taken, that you are enabled to come to the conclusion, by way of opinion from what you have stated, after his giving you his reasons for shooting Mr. Waugh, that he did not know that killing him was contrary to law, and was wrong? A. From his manner, from the evidence I have heard here from the different witnesses, I have no doubt in coming to the conclusion that he was not conscious of the enormity of the crime he was committing—I think he did not know it was wrong to kill a person—I am prepared to say that, upon my judgment—in the course of my conversation with him the onlv delusion I discovered was that about the 800l.—that was not true, I have heard so in Court—he said to me that he should have had 800l. if it had not been for Mr. Waugh, but he should now only get 400l.—I say that was a delusion—I could not tell then that it was a delusion, but it appears by the evidence to have been so—that, taken with the proof that he was subject to delusions, confirms my opinion that he is not a responsible agent—I think he did not know right from wrong, or that it was wrong to kill a person.

MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You think he did not know right from wrong? A. Yes—I have seen and attended some hundreds of lunatic patients—I

judge very much from appearance and demeanour—it is almost impossible to convey by words the appearance and demeanour of a lunatic patient, nothing but experience will teach it you—it is sometimes difficult to fill up a certificate, even where no doubt exists as to the mental state—you cannot bring forward proof to put down in black and white until you have had many opportunities of examining the patient—if I had had a larger opportunity of seeing the manner and demeanour of the prisoner yesterday, I have no doubt my opinion would have been strengthened, as he had the appearance of a person of unsound mind—I am sure he did not then understand that he had committed a crime, and it would be presumable that he did not know it at the time he committed the act—the tying the neckcloth on two occasions, and talking in his room to imaginary persons, are indications of insanity—the descriptions given of his manner and restlessness generally are strong indications of insanity—I have found in lunatics a most intense earnestness of purpose, and whatever reasoning is applied to show them that they are wrong has no effect whatever—supposing the prisoner to be a lunatic the fact of Mr. Wangh's behaving extremely kind to him and his family would not alter his impressions—when I saw him yesterday, it was in company with Mr. Gibson, the surgeon of the gaol.

COURT. Q. You used the term delusion, is it your opinion that the prisoner was labouring under entire defect of reason, or that he had delusions upon particular subjects only? A. It has been proved by the witnesses that he had delusions upon particular subjects—no madman if mad upon every subject—he has delusions upon certain subjects, but on others his judgment is untouched—in my interview with the prisoner I judged from his manner of speaking that he did not know it was wrong to kill a person—in persons of unsound mind you can never answer for the moment they may take a homicidal or suicidal tendency—it may come on at any moment without previous warning, where clear unsoundness of mind has been first proved—it has been proved by the witnesses that he had delusions, which show a diseased state of mind, and in such a state of mind a homicidal or suicidal tendency may at any moment arise—he entertains delusions on some points, so it is proved in evidence—in some matters his mind may undoubtedly be sane—whether upon those matters he would be capable of distinguishing right from wrong, would depend a great deal upon whether he was labouring under excitement at the time or not—if an excitement was produced, it would render him incapable of judging for the time being, although the matter might not have relation to his delusions.

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of a strong predisposition to insanity. Aged 25.— DEATH recorded.

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