FREDERICK MARTIN.
22nd September 1873
Reference Numbert18730922-594
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation
SentenceImprisonment

Related Material

ActionsCite this text | Print-friendly version | Report an error
Navigation< Previous text (trial account) | Next text (trial account) >

594. FREDERICK MARTIN (a soldier, 24), Unlawfully taking Charlotte Foster, an unmarried girl under the age of sixteen years, out of the possession and against the will of Charlotte Foster, her mother.

MR. FRITH and MR. BEALE conducted the Prosecution and MR. KEIGHLEY the Defence.

CHARLOTTE FOSTER . I live at 56, York Street, Westminster—I am a widow—Charlotte Foster is my daughter; she was fourteen years of age last February—she lived with me up to the 18th August last—on that day she left her home without my knowledge—I saw her on the following Wednesday night, the 20th—I gave her in charge for stealing a shawl—she was taken to the Police Court, remanded for a fortnight, and then discharged—I know nothing of the prisoner.

Cross-examined. I had never seen the prisoner before I saw him at the Police Court—the back of my house looks on to the yard of Wellington Barracks—I have lived there twelve years—I have been a widow twelve years—my daughter was educated up to the age of twelve—since that she has only had what education I have been able to give her myself—she went to school up to the age of twelve—I have only taught her plain education,

spelling, reading, and arithmetic—I live with my mother—I carry on no busiuess in the house—the whole house belongs to my mother—for the list three or four months my daughter has not been away from me—I have seen her all day—I am prepared to say she has not been away without my knowledge—I am not aware that for the last three or four months she has been in the habit of going into the canteen of the barracks—we occupy four rooms on the first floor, and my daughter is frequently in a back room—that looks on to the barracks—she has been a great deal in that back room by herself—I am sorry to say she has not been a good girl to me—I have not been in the habit of beating her for behaving badly, but I have punished her in other ways—when she has wanted to go out I have kept her indoors—she has constantly wanted to go out—I saw her on the 18th August, but did not see her again until the 20th—it was about 9 o'clock at night—I met her in the barracks—she was with another girl—she was not with the prisoner when I met her—she has very seldom gone out by herself—sometimes she has for a short time—during the last three or four months she may have gone out by herself.

Re-exxmined. I did not approve of her going out by herself—she went out with my consent then—I have endeavoured to bring her up as well as I could—I have taken as much care of her morals as I could.

CHARLOTTE FOSTER . I am daughter of the last witness—I know the prisoner; I cannot tell how long, but I have known him some little time by sight; perhaps four months—he has frequently spoken to me—he is in the Wellington Barracks—he addressed me by my Christian name—he had been for some time in the habit of doing so—I saw him on the 18th August; he came past our house—I was crying at the time—I was standing at the door—he asked me what I was crying for—I said "I cannot tell you here, but if you will go through the next door, "meaning the Crown public-house, "I will tell you"—I meant the yard at the back—he went through into the yard of the Crown, and I spoke to him over the wall first—I told him I was crying because my mother would not let me out—I asked him what he would do if he was me—he said he would do anything, and I said "What is the anything?"—"Oh," he said, anything he would do—I said "Suppose you sent me one of those girls"—before I said that he said he would not be humbugged about—he said he would send me one—I said "Send me one that does not swear"—he sent me one—she came directly—he went through the house again and this woman came almost directly; as soon as he could get outside—this was about 8.30 or 9 o'clock in the evening—when the girl came, I was standing in our own passage—I next saw the prisoner on the Monday night—I did not go anywhere with this woman—I remained at home until Monday night—I received a letter on the Monday; the prisoner threw it out at the back window—I saw him do so—he saw me when he threw it out—I was under the back window—I saw him again that night—(The letter was read)—I saw the prisoner on the Monday night at our own street door—he went into the Crown public-house—I went into our own house and put on my hat and jacket—a woman then came to me at the door—it was not the same woman as came on the Sunday night—I had some conversation with her—I went and put on my clothes, and then went round by the workhouse—I did not go into the Crown, the prisonor came after me—I told the woman to come with me, hut she did not—the woman I saw on the Sunday night promised she would be there—the prisoner said "Come along, be sharp, or they will be after

us"—I went away with him into Pye Street—I said to him "Martin, you are going to take me to that young woman you promised," and he said "Yes"—he took me down Pye Street, and when he got there he could not find the young woman's house—he said he did not know which, and then he took me to another woman's house in the same street—we went to a room—an Irish woman showed us in—I had my clothes with me—I was afterwards charged with stealing my mother's shawl—he did not do anything with my clothes—when we were in the room he told me to undress—I did not do so at first, but I did subsequently—when I did not undress myself he said he would undress me—he commenced to do so—we slept there.

Cross-examined. I never told the prisoner my age—I never informed him that I was under sixteen—he did not offer any inducement to me to leave my home—I left home entirely at my own free-will—when I had this conversation with him on the 17th he saw that I was crying—he asked what was the matter, and I then told him—I did not tell him that I had been beaten—I told him I was crying because I was not allowed to go out—when I went out I did not go with him—he was in the Crown public-house—I left our house and went past the public-house, the road round by the workhouse—he came directly after me, out of the public-house—when I asked him to send me one of those girls, I meant a bad girl—she said he would come down to her house if I liked, but I would not go that night—I was not in the habit of standing at our window and kissing my hand to the soldiers, that I deny—I stood at the window and looked at them and spoke to them—our window is about as far from the barrack window as the width of this Court, and I could speak across—for the last three or four months I have been in the habit of speaking to several of the Coldstream Guards, out of that window—I have walked out with several of them—I never walked out with the prisoner—I had seen him before the 18th—I may have walked out with three or four of the soldiers—I went once into the canteen of the regiment—whilst I was with the prisoner he did not offer any obstacle to my returning home—I said I wished I had never left home—I said that the next day—we were then at Chelsea, and he was with me—up to that time he had not offered any obstacle—I do not know a woman named Sarah Dyke—the only conversation I had was with the woman he promised I should go to—I do not know her name—I did not say to any woman "Will you take me to Fred. Martin; I will have Fred. Martin"—I have not asked numbers of the Coldstream Guards for Fred. Martin—when we got to the house in Pye Street, I did not ask the landlady for a room—if she says on her oath that I did, that is untrue—I made no arrangement about the room—the woman went up into the room first—then I went up and the prisoner came up after me—I did not state to the woman that I had just left my situation.

Re-examined. I have not been more than once into the canteen.

MARY LANDRIGAN . I live at 31, Old Pye Street—I am the wife of William Landrigan—he is a hawker and umbrella maker—I remember the last witness and the prisoner coming to our house on the Monday night, the night before Foresters' Day—she said they were man and wife—she asked me if I had got a room, and she paid me a shilling for the room and sixpence for myself—she had a shawl over her head and a large bundle, and I said "Is that a child you have got there?"—she said "No, it is my clothes after leaving my situation"—I went up stairs with the candle in my hand and she walked up after me—she went up before the prisoner.

Cross-examined. I am perfectly certain it was she who asked me for the room, and not the man—she paid me a shilling—I am sure she said she was leaving her situation, and she cannot deny it.

Re-examined. I keep nightly lodgings—they only come and go in the morning.

EDWARD SHAW . I am a detective of the B Division—I apprehended the prisoner on the 4th September at Wellington Barracks, upon a warrant—I rend the warrant over to him—he made no reply—I took him to Rochester Row station.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate was read: "I did not take her away; I have got two girls outside as witnesses. She asked them to take her away. She asked me to take her away on the Sunday night, and I would not. She has kept company with six or seven of our soldiers; she has been in the canteen with them and through the parks. I did not know who she was, except through seeing her with the soldiers. I did not know what age she was. I had seen her come to the barrack gates with soldiers, and she asked me to come out with her; I could mention the names of the soldiers. I did not have connection with her at all; I could not. "He received a goad character.

GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of the previous conduct of the girl. One Month's Imprisonment.


View as XML