Jones—Pray, do you know Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stephens, and Mr. Marson?E. Gurrey—I know Mr. Marson, and these are the other gentlemen, I reckon.Jones—What discourse did you hear from them?E. Gurrey—Mr. Marson asked the other gentlemen how much money they had spent? the other answered, what was that to him? you have had forty or fifty pounds to your share. Then the other asked him, whether the business was done? And he answered, he believed it was; but if it was not done, it would be done to-night. Then, my lord, he pulled a handful of money out of his pocket, and swore he would spend it all for joy the business was done.Jones—Was Mr. Cowper's name mentioned?E. Gurrey—I heard them mention Mr. Cowper's name, but not Mrs. Sarah Stout's.Jones—What condition was the gentleman's shoes in?E. Gurrey—I think it was Mr. Marson, his shoes were very wet and dirty; one of them was very hot, and he wiped his head with his handkerchief.Jones—Now, my lord, we have done as to our evidence. Mr. Marson pretended he was just then alighted and come from London, and was in a great heat, and his shoes were wet: for when he was examined, he said, he came to town about eight of the clock, and went to the Glove and Dolphin inn, and stayed there till he came to his lodging. Now it was a wonderful thing that he should come wet shod from a tavern, where he had been sitting four or five hours together.
Jones—Pray, do you know Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stephens, and Mr. Marson?
E. Gurrey—I know Mr. Marson, and these are the other gentlemen, I reckon.
Jones—What discourse did you hear from them?
E. Gurrey—Mr. Marson asked the other gentlemen how much money they had spent? the other answered, what was that to him? you have had forty or fifty pounds to your share. Then the other asked him, whether the business was done? And he answered, he believed it was; but if it was not done, it would be done to-night. Then, my lord, he pulled a handful of money out of his pocket, and swore he would spend it all for joy the business was done.
Jones—Was Mr. Cowper's name mentioned?
E. Gurrey—I heard them mention Mr. Cowper's name, but not Mrs. Sarah Stout's.
Jones—What condition was the gentleman's shoes in?
E. Gurrey—I think it was Mr. Marson, his shoes were very wet and dirty; one of them was very hot, and he wiped his head with his handkerchief.
Jones—Now, my lord, we have done as to our evidence. Mr. Marson pretended he was just then alighted and come from London, and was in a great heat, and his shoes were wet: for when he was examined, he said, he came to town about eight of the clock, and went to the Glove and Dolphin inn, and stayed there till he came to his lodging. Now it was a wonderful thing that he should come wet shod from a tavern, where he had been sitting four or five hours together.
Then the Examination of Mr. John Marson was read:
The Examination ofJohn Marson, taken before me, this 27th day of April, 1692.'Who being examined where he was on Monday the 13th of March last, saith, That he was at the borough of Southwark (he being an attorney of thesaid court) till past 4 of the clock in the afternoon; and saith, that he set out from Southwark for Hertford soon after, and came to Hertford about eight the same afternoon, and put up his horse at the sign of , an inn there, and then went to the Hand and Glove, together with Godfrey Gimbart, esq., Ellis Stephens, William Rogers, and some others, where they stayed till about eleven of the clock at night, and then this examinant went thence directly to the house of John Gurrey, with the said Stephens and Rogers, who lay together in the said Gurrey's house all that night. And being asked what he said concerning the said Mrs. Sarah Stout, deceased, this examinant saith, that on Sunday the 12th of March last, this examinant being in company with one Thomas Marshall, and telling him that this examinant intended the next day for Hertford, with the marshal of the King's Bench, the said Thomas Marshall desired this examinant and the said Stephens, who was then also in company, that they would go and see the said Sarah Stout (his sweetheart). He confesseth, that he did ask the said Gurrey, if he would shew this examinant where the said Stout lived; telling the said Gurrey that his name was Marshall, and asked him if he never heard of him before; and jocularly said, that he would go and see her the next morning, but doth not believe that he said any thing that any friend was even with the said Sarah Stout, or to such like effect. And doth confess, that he did the next day, upon the said Gurrey's telling him that the said Stout was drowned, say, that he would keep his word, and would see her. And saith, that meeting with Mr. Cowper (who is this examinant's acquaintance) he believes he did talk with him concerning the saidStout's being drowned, this examinant having seen her body that morning.John Marson.'Cogn. Die et Anno antedict.Coram J. Holt.'
The Examination ofJohn Marson, taken before me, this 27th day of April, 1692.
'Who being examined where he was on Monday the 13th of March last, saith, That he was at the borough of Southwark (he being an attorney of thesaid court) till past 4 of the clock in the afternoon; and saith, that he set out from Southwark for Hertford soon after, and came to Hertford about eight the same afternoon, and put up his horse at the sign of , an inn there, and then went to the Hand and Glove, together with Godfrey Gimbart, esq., Ellis Stephens, William Rogers, and some others, where they stayed till about eleven of the clock at night, and then this examinant went thence directly to the house of John Gurrey, with the said Stephens and Rogers, who lay together in the said Gurrey's house all that night. And being asked what he said concerning the said Mrs. Sarah Stout, deceased, this examinant saith, that on Sunday the 12th of March last, this examinant being in company with one Thomas Marshall, and telling him that this examinant intended the next day for Hertford, with the marshal of the King's Bench, the said Thomas Marshall desired this examinant and the said Stephens, who was then also in company, that they would go and see the said Sarah Stout (his sweetheart). He confesseth, that he did ask the said Gurrey, if he would shew this examinant where the said Stout lived; telling the said Gurrey that his name was Marshall, and asked him if he never heard of him before; and jocularly said, that he would go and see her the next morning, but doth not believe that he said any thing that any friend was even with the said Sarah Stout, or to such like effect. And doth confess, that he did the next day, upon the said Gurrey's telling him that the said Stout was drowned, say, that he would keep his word, and would see her. And saith, that meeting with Mr. Cowper (who is this examinant's acquaintance) he believes he did talk with him concerning the saidStout's being drowned, this examinant having seen her body that morning.
John Marson.
'Cogn. Die et Anno antedict.
Coram J. Holt.'
Jones—All that I observe from it, is this: That he had been five hours in town, and when he came to his lodging, he came in wet and hot, and said he was just come from London.Marson—I had rid forty miles that day, and could not be soon cold.Hatsell, Baron—They have done now for the king; come, Mr. Cowper, what do you say to it?Jones—If your lordship please, we will call one witness more, Mary Richardson. Mrs. Richardson, do you know Mr. Marson, or any of these gentlemen?Mrs. Richardson—They came on Tuesday night to the Bell at Hoddesdon, and lay there, and one of the gentlemen, when I was warming the sheets, asked me if I knew Mrs. Sarah Stout? And I said Yes. He asked me if I knew which way she came to her end? And I told him I could not tell.Jones—Is that all? What did they say more?Mrs. Richardson—They did desire and wish it might be found out how it came about; and one gentleman took no notice of her at all. They had a little bundle, but what was in it I cannot tell, but there I saw it bound up in some coloured stuff or other, but what it was I cannot tell.Jones—Is that all you can say?Mrs. Richardson—Yes, that is all.Jones—Then we have done.Hatsell, Baron—Come, Mr. Cowper, what do you say to it?Cowper—Now they have done on the part of the king, my lord, and you gentlemen of the jury, I must beg your patience for my defence. I confess it was an unfortunate accident for me (as Mr. Jones calls it) that I happened to be the last person (for aught appears) in the company of a melancholy woman. The discourse occasioned by this accident had been a sufficient misfortune to me, without any thing else to aggravate it; but I did not in the least imagine that so little, so trivial an evidence as here is, could possibly have affected me to so great a degree, as to bring me to this place to answer for the worst fact that the worst of men can be guilty of.My lord, your lordship did just now observe, that I have appeared at the bar for my clients; but I must say too, that I never appeared for myself under this, or the like circumstances, as a criminal, for any offence whatsoever.
Jones—All that I observe from it, is this: That he had been five hours in town, and when he came to his lodging, he came in wet and hot, and said he was just come from London.
Marson—I had rid forty miles that day, and could not be soon cold.
Hatsell, Baron—They have done now for the king; come, Mr. Cowper, what do you say to it?
Jones—If your lordship please, we will call one witness more, Mary Richardson. Mrs. Richardson, do you know Mr. Marson, or any of these gentlemen?
Mrs. Richardson—They came on Tuesday night to the Bell at Hoddesdon, and lay there, and one of the gentlemen, when I was warming the sheets, asked me if I knew Mrs. Sarah Stout? And I said Yes. He asked me if I knew which way she came to her end? And I told him I could not tell.
Jones—Is that all? What did they say more?
Mrs. Richardson—They did desire and wish it might be found out how it came about; and one gentleman took no notice of her at all. They had a little bundle, but what was in it I cannot tell, but there I saw it bound up in some coloured stuff or other, but what it was I cannot tell.
Jones—Is that all you can say?
Mrs. Richardson—Yes, that is all.
Jones—Then we have done.
Hatsell, Baron—Come, Mr. Cowper, what do you say to it?
Cowper—Now they have done on the part of the king, my lord, and you gentlemen of the jury, I must beg your patience for my defence. I confess it was an unfortunate accident for me (as Mr. Jones calls it) that I happened to be the last person (for aught appears) in the company of a melancholy woman. The discourse occasioned by this accident had been a sufficient misfortune to me, without any thing else to aggravate it; but I did not in the least imagine that so little, so trivial an evidence as here is, could possibly have affected me to so great a degree, as to bring me to this place to answer for the worst fact that the worst of men can be guilty of.
My lord, your lordship did just now observe, that I have appeared at the bar for my clients; but I must say too, that I never appeared for myself under this, or the like circumstances, as a criminal, for any offence whatsoever.
He then goes on to point out that there is no positive evidence against him, but only suppositions and inferences—what to-day would be called circumstantial evidence; and that even admitting the evidence of the prosecution, it is as strong to show that the deceased woman was not murdered as that she was. Even if the evidence proved that Mrs. Stout was murdered, there was nothing to show that he or his fellow-prisoners were guilty of the murder. The body was not floating when it was found, as could be shown by the parish officers who were employed by the coroner to take it out of the water. It in fact had sunk, and had then been carried bythe force of the stream sideways up the stakes which were about a foot apart pointing down stream; and yet the alleged fact that the body was floating was the only evidence produced to prove that the woman was not drowned. Evidence would be given to prove that the fact that the body contained little or no water was immaterial, for drowning takes place when only a very little water is received into the lungs; and in a case of suicide it is probable that water would enter the lungs sooner than it would in cases of accident. As to the evidence derived from the examination of the body after exhumation, it ought not to have been given, as the exhumation was itself an offence; 'but as it is I have no reason to apprehend it, being able to make it appear that the gentlemen who spoke to this point have delivered themselves in that manner either out of extreme malice, or a most profound ignorance; this will be so very plain upon my evidence, that I must take the liberty to impute one or both of these causes to the gentlemen that have argued from their observations upon that matter.'
It had been suggested that he had an interest in the death of the deceased by reason of holding money of hers which he had received as her trustee or guardian. He had been concerned in investing some £200 in a mortgage for the deceased the previous December; he had paidover this money to the mortgagees, and the mortgage had been found by the prosecutors among the papers of the deceased after her death. This was the only money transaction he had ever had with her. The prosecution had proved that there was no concealment of shame to induce him to murder her; and that, though they had no inclination to favour him.
He would produce evidence to show that the dead woman committed suicide, though he only did so most unwillingly and under compulsion. The prosecution had shown that she was melancholy, and he could show that she had reason for making away with herself. This he would do by producing letters of hers, which were he alone concerned he would not allude to; but as he was in honour bound to make the best defence he could for his fellow-prisoners, he had no choice in the matter.
The maid Walker was the only person who gave any direct evidence against him, and she said that she heard the door shut at a quarter past eleven, and that on going downstairs directly afterwards she found that both he and the deceased had left the house. But he would prove that he had entered the Glove Inn as the town clock struck eleven, that he had stayed there a quarter of an hour, that after he had done several things at his lodgings he had gone to bed by twelve, and had not gone out againthat night. He had sent to fetch his horse from Mrs. Stout's house on Tuesday morning, as was only prudent, but he had told the man whom he sent that he would not want it till the next day, when he was going into Essex with the rest of the circuit, which he did.
He had not heard that his name was connected with Mrs. Stout's death till two months after the event; and the prosecution had in fact been set on foot by the Quakers, who were scandalised at the idea of one of their number committing suicide, and the political opponents of his father and brother in the town.
Cowper went on to explain that he always had the offer of a share in his brother's lodgings, which were some of the best in the town, whenever the latter went circuit, 'which out of good husbandry I always accepted.' At the time of the last circuit, when the present case arose, Parliament was sitting, and his brother 'being in the money chair,' could not attend. As Cowper had been invited to lodge with Mrs. Stout during the assizes and wished to accept the invitation, he asked his brother to ask Barefoot, the keeper of his lodgings, to dispose of them if he could. The brother said he would do so 'if he could think on it,' and accordingly Cowper went down to Hertford intending to lodge with Mrs. Stout unless his brother had failed to write to Barefoot. On arriving at Hertford he foundthat his brother had not written to Barefoot, and that the rooms there were ready for him. He accordingly stayed there, sent to the coffee-house for his bag, and took up his lodging at Barefoot's as usual. As soon as he had done this, the maid Walker came round from Mrs. Stout's to invite him to dinner there. He accepted the invitation, and also a further invitation to come again in the evening; but he did not agree to sleep there. When he came the second time he paid the deceased the interest on her mortgage, some six pounds odd, in guineas and half-guineas, which money was found in her pocket after she was drowned. He wrote a receipt for the money, which she refused to sign; she pressed him to stay there that night, which he refused to do.
He then went on:—
'My lord, I open my defence shortly, referring the particulars to the witnesses themselves, in calling those who will fully refute the suppositions and inferences made by the prosecutor, whom first, my lord, I shall begin with, to show there is no evidence of any murder at all committed; and this I say again, ought to be indisputably made manifest and proved, before any man can be so much as suspected for it.Hatsell, Baron—Do not flourish too much, Mr. Cowper; if you have opened all your evidence, call your witnesses, and when they have ended, then make your observations.Mr. Cowper—Then, my lord, I will take up no more of your time in opening this matter. CallRobert Dew. (Who appeared.) When Mrs. Sarah Stout drowned herself, was not you a parish officer?Dew—I was. I was next house to the Coach and Horses; and about six o'clock came a little boy (Thomas Parker's boy), and said there was a woman fallen into the river. I considered it was not my business, but the coroner's, and I sent the boy to the coroner, to acquaint him with it, and the coroner sent word by the boy, and desired she might be taken out; so I went to the river, and saw her taken out: she lay in the river (as near as I could guess) half a foot in the water; she was covered with water; she had a striped petticoat on, but nothing could be seen of it above water. I heaved her up, and several sticks were underneath her, and flags; and when they took her out, she frothed at the nose and mouth.Cowper—How was she? Was she driven between the stakes?Dew—She lay on the right side, her head leaning rather downwards: and as they pulled her up, I cried, 'Hold, hold, hold, you hurt her arm'; and so they kneeled down and took her arm from the stakes.Cowper—Did you see any spot upon her arm?Dew—Yes, sir.Cowper—What sort of spot was it?Dew—It was reddish; I believe the stakes did it; for her arm hit upon the stake where she lay.Cowper—Pray, how do these stakes stand about the bridge of the mill?Dew—I suppose they stand about a foot asunder; they stand slanting, leaning down the stream a little.Cowper—Could you discern her feet?Dew—No, nothing like it, nor the striped petticoat she had on.Cowper—Might not her knees and legs be upon the ground, for what you could see?Dew—Truly, if I were put upon my oath whether they were so, or not, I durst not swear it; sometimes the water there is four feet, sometimes three and a-half; I believe her feet were very near the bottom.Cowper—Are not the stakes nailed with their head against the bridge?Dew—They are nailed to the side of the bridge.Cowper—Pray, describe the manner in which they took her up.Dew—They stooped down, and took her up.Cowper—Did they take her up at once?Dew—They had two heavings, or more.Cowper—What was the reason they did not take her up at once?Dew—Because I cried out, 'They hurt her arm.'Cowper—Was she not within the stakes?Dew—No, this shoulder kept her out.Cowper—When you complained they hurt her arm, what answer did they make you?Dew—They stooped down and took her arm out from between the stakes; they could not have got her out else.Cowper—After she was taken out, did you observe any froth or foam come from her mouth or nose?Dew—There was a white froth came from her, and as they wiped it away, it was on again presently.Cowper—What was the appearance of her face and upper parts at that time?Dew—She was so much disfigured, I believe that scarce any of her neighbours knew her, the slime of the water being upon her.Cowper—Did you see her maid Sarah Walker at that time?Dew—No.Hatsell, Baron—Mr. Cowper, do you intend to spend so much time with every witness? I do not see to what purpose many of these questions are asked.Cowper—I have done with him: call Young.Hatsell, Baron—Mr. Cowper, I would not have you straiten yourself, but only ask those questions that are pertinent.Cowper—Pray, give an account of what you know of the matter.Young—On Tuesday morning between five and six o'clock, last assizes——Cowper—What officer did you say?Young—I was constable.Cowper—Was you employed by the coroner?Young—Not by him in person. Between five and six o'clock some of the men that came into my yard to work, told me a woman was drowned at the mill; I staid a little and went down to see, and when I came there, I saw a woman, as they had told me, and I saw part of her coat lie on the top of the water to be seen, and I looked strictly and nicely within the bridge and saw the face of a woman, and her left arm was on the outside the stakes, which I believe kept her from going through; so I looked upon her very wishfully, and was going back again; and as I came back I met with R. Dew and two of my neighbours, and they asked me to go back with them, and said they were going to take her up; and being constable, I told them I thought it was not proper to do it, and they said they had orders for it; so I being constable went back with them, and when I came there I found her in the same posture as before; we viewed her very wishfully; her coat that was driven near the stakeswas seen, but none of her coats, or her legs; and after we had looked a little while upon her, we spake to Dell and Ulse to take her up, and one of them took hold of her coat till he brought her above water; and as her arm drew up, I saw a black place, and she laid sideway, that he could not take her up till they had let her down again, and so they twisted her out sideway; for the stakes were so near together that she could not lie upon her belly, or upon her back; and when they had taken her up, they laid her down upon a green place, and after she was laid down, a great quantity of froth (like the froth of new beer) worked out of her nostrils.Hatsell, Baron—How much do you call a great quantity?Young—It rose up in bladders, and run down on the sides of her face, and so rose again; and seeing her look like a gentlewoman, we desired one Ulse to search her pockets, to see if there were any letters, that we might know who she was; so the woman did, and I believe there was twenty or more of us that knew her very well when she was alive, and not one of us knew her then; and the woman searched her pockets, and took out six guineas, ten shillings, three pence halfpenny, and some other things; and after that I desired some of my neighbours to go with me and tell the money; for when it came to be known who she was, I knew we must give an account on it, and I laid it upon a block and told it, and they tyed it up in a handkerchief, and I said I would keep the money, and they should seal it up to prevent any question about it; and during all this while of discourse, and sealing up the money, the froth still worked out of her mouth.Cowper—Have you measured the depth of the water? What depth is it there?Young—I measured the water this morning, and it was so high that it ran over the floodgate, and the height of it was about four foot two inches; but sometimes it is pent up to a greater height than it is to-day.Cowper—Was it higher to-day than when the body was found?Young—To the best of my remembrance, it was as high to-day as it was then.Cowper—Was any part of the body above water?Young—No, nor nothing like the body could be seen.Cowper—Could you see where her legs lay?Young—No, nor nothing but her upper coats, which were driven against the stakes.Cowper—Pray give an account how long she lay there, and when she was conveyed away?Young—I stayed a quarter of an hour, and then I went and sealed up the money at my own house, so that I did not see her removed.Jones—Was anybody there besides yourself at this time?Young—Yes; twenty people at the least.Jones—Now here is ten of them that have sworn that the body was above the surface of the water.Hatsell, Baron—No, her cloaths, they say, were, but the body was something under the water.Cowper—Now I will trouble your lordship no more with that fact, but I will give you an account of the coroner's inquest, how diligent they were in their proceedings, and produce a copy of the inquisition itself, that she was found to have drowned herself.Hatsell, Baron—Mr. Cowper, that is no evidenceif it be produced in order to contradict what these witnesses have said, that have been examined for the king; but if you will prove that they have sworn otherwise before the coroner than they now do, then you say something, otherwise the coroner's inquest signifies nothing as to the present question.Cowper—Call Thomas Wall. I am loth to be troublesome; but, if you please to favour me, I desire to know of them whether they do admit there was an inquisition, and that she was foundnon compos mentisand did kill herself.Jones—We do admit it.Juryman—We desire it may be read.Hatsell, Baron—Why, will not you believe what they agree to on both sides?Juryman—If they do agree so, I am satisfied.
'My lord, I open my defence shortly, referring the particulars to the witnesses themselves, in calling those who will fully refute the suppositions and inferences made by the prosecutor, whom first, my lord, I shall begin with, to show there is no evidence of any murder at all committed; and this I say again, ought to be indisputably made manifest and proved, before any man can be so much as suspected for it.
Hatsell, Baron—Do not flourish too much, Mr. Cowper; if you have opened all your evidence, call your witnesses, and when they have ended, then make your observations.
Mr. Cowper—Then, my lord, I will take up no more of your time in opening this matter. CallRobert Dew. (Who appeared.) When Mrs. Sarah Stout drowned herself, was not you a parish officer?
Dew—I was. I was next house to the Coach and Horses; and about six o'clock came a little boy (Thomas Parker's boy), and said there was a woman fallen into the river. I considered it was not my business, but the coroner's, and I sent the boy to the coroner, to acquaint him with it, and the coroner sent word by the boy, and desired she might be taken out; so I went to the river, and saw her taken out: she lay in the river (as near as I could guess) half a foot in the water; she was covered with water; she had a striped petticoat on, but nothing could be seen of it above water. I heaved her up, and several sticks were underneath her, and flags; and when they took her out, she frothed at the nose and mouth.
Cowper—How was she? Was she driven between the stakes?
Dew—She lay on the right side, her head leaning rather downwards: and as they pulled her up, I cried, 'Hold, hold, hold, you hurt her arm'; and so they kneeled down and took her arm from the stakes.
Cowper—Did you see any spot upon her arm?
Dew—Yes, sir.
Cowper—What sort of spot was it?
Dew—It was reddish; I believe the stakes did it; for her arm hit upon the stake where she lay.
Cowper—Pray, how do these stakes stand about the bridge of the mill?
Dew—I suppose they stand about a foot asunder; they stand slanting, leaning down the stream a little.
Cowper—Could you discern her feet?
Dew—No, nothing like it, nor the striped petticoat she had on.
Cowper—Might not her knees and legs be upon the ground, for what you could see?
Dew—Truly, if I were put upon my oath whether they were so, or not, I durst not swear it; sometimes the water there is four feet, sometimes three and a-half; I believe her feet were very near the bottom.
Cowper—Are not the stakes nailed with their head against the bridge?
Dew—They are nailed to the side of the bridge.
Cowper—Pray, describe the manner in which they took her up.
Dew—They stooped down, and took her up.
Cowper—Did they take her up at once?
Dew—They had two heavings, or more.
Cowper—What was the reason they did not take her up at once?
Dew—Because I cried out, 'They hurt her arm.'
Cowper—Was she not within the stakes?
Dew—No, this shoulder kept her out.
Cowper—When you complained they hurt her arm, what answer did they make you?
Dew—They stooped down and took her arm out from between the stakes; they could not have got her out else.
Cowper—After she was taken out, did you observe any froth or foam come from her mouth or nose?
Dew—There was a white froth came from her, and as they wiped it away, it was on again presently.
Cowper—What was the appearance of her face and upper parts at that time?
Dew—She was so much disfigured, I believe that scarce any of her neighbours knew her, the slime of the water being upon her.
Cowper—Did you see her maid Sarah Walker at that time?
Dew—No.
Hatsell, Baron—Mr. Cowper, do you intend to spend so much time with every witness? I do not see to what purpose many of these questions are asked.
Cowper—I have done with him: call Young.
Hatsell, Baron—Mr. Cowper, I would not have you straiten yourself, but only ask those questions that are pertinent.
Cowper—Pray, give an account of what you know of the matter.
Young—On Tuesday morning between five and six o'clock, last assizes——
Cowper—What officer did you say?
Young—I was constable.
Cowper—Was you employed by the coroner?
Young—Not by him in person. Between five and six o'clock some of the men that came into my yard to work, told me a woman was drowned at the mill; I staid a little and went down to see, and when I came there, I saw a woman, as they had told me, and I saw part of her coat lie on the top of the water to be seen, and I looked strictly and nicely within the bridge and saw the face of a woman, and her left arm was on the outside the stakes, which I believe kept her from going through; so I looked upon her very wishfully, and was going back again; and as I came back I met with R. Dew and two of my neighbours, and they asked me to go back with them, and said they were going to take her up; and being constable, I told them I thought it was not proper to do it, and they said they had orders for it; so I being constable went back with them, and when I came there I found her in the same posture as before; we viewed her very wishfully; her coat that was driven near the stakeswas seen, but none of her coats, or her legs; and after we had looked a little while upon her, we spake to Dell and Ulse to take her up, and one of them took hold of her coat till he brought her above water; and as her arm drew up, I saw a black place, and she laid sideway, that he could not take her up till they had let her down again, and so they twisted her out sideway; for the stakes were so near together that she could not lie upon her belly, or upon her back; and when they had taken her up, they laid her down upon a green place, and after she was laid down, a great quantity of froth (like the froth of new beer) worked out of her nostrils.
Hatsell, Baron—How much do you call a great quantity?
Young—It rose up in bladders, and run down on the sides of her face, and so rose again; and seeing her look like a gentlewoman, we desired one Ulse to search her pockets, to see if there were any letters, that we might know who she was; so the woman did, and I believe there was twenty or more of us that knew her very well when she was alive, and not one of us knew her then; and the woman searched her pockets, and took out six guineas, ten shillings, three pence halfpenny, and some other things; and after that I desired some of my neighbours to go with me and tell the money; for when it came to be known who she was, I knew we must give an account on it, and I laid it upon a block and told it, and they tyed it up in a handkerchief, and I said I would keep the money, and they should seal it up to prevent any question about it; and during all this while of discourse, and sealing up the money, the froth still worked out of her mouth.
Cowper—Have you measured the depth of the water? What depth is it there?
Young—I measured the water this morning, and it was so high that it ran over the floodgate, and the height of it was about four foot two inches; but sometimes it is pent up to a greater height than it is to-day.
Cowper—Was it higher to-day than when the body was found?
Young—To the best of my remembrance, it was as high to-day as it was then.
Cowper—Was any part of the body above water?
Young—No, nor nothing like the body could be seen.
Cowper—Could you see where her legs lay?
Young—No, nor nothing but her upper coats, which were driven against the stakes.
Cowper—Pray give an account how long she lay there, and when she was conveyed away?
Young—I stayed a quarter of an hour, and then I went and sealed up the money at my own house, so that I did not see her removed.
Jones—Was anybody there besides yourself at this time?
Young—Yes; twenty people at the least.
Jones—Now here is ten of them that have sworn that the body was above the surface of the water.
Hatsell, Baron—No, her cloaths, they say, were, but the body was something under the water.
Cowper—Now I will trouble your lordship no more with that fact, but I will give you an account of the coroner's inquest, how diligent they were in their proceedings, and produce a copy of the inquisition itself, that she was found to have drowned herself.
Hatsell, Baron—Mr. Cowper, that is no evidenceif it be produced in order to contradict what these witnesses have said, that have been examined for the king; but if you will prove that they have sworn otherwise before the coroner than they now do, then you say something, otherwise the coroner's inquest signifies nothing as to the present question.
Cowper—Call Thomas Wall. I am loth to be troublesome; but, if you please to favour me, I desire to know of them whether they do admit there was an inquisition, and that she was foundnon compos mentisand did kill herself.
Jones—We do admit it.
Juryman—We desire it may be read.
Hatsell, Baron—Why, will not you believe what they agree to on both sides?
Juryman—If they do agree so, I am satisfied.
Wallwas one of the coroner's jury, and saw the marks on the body which he described; Mr. Camlin and the younger Dimsdale were requested to examine them, which they did, and reported that they were no more than were usual in such cases. Wall refreshed his memory from his notes, and said that Sarah Walker had said that it was about eleven when she had taken the coals up to warm Cowper's bed, but she could not say when it was that Cowper went out, for she took up some more coals, and then tarried a little, and then went down and found that Cowper and her mistress had gone out.
Hatsell, Baron—The woman said the same thing.Cowper—It is necessary in this particular as to time.Hatsell, Baron—She told you the clocks did differ.
Hatsell, Baron—The woman said the same thing.
Cowper—It is necessary in this particular as to time.
Hatsell, Baron—She told you the clocks did differ.
BowdenandShutegave evidence as to the finding of the body and as to its state when found, corroborating the other witnesses.
Cowper—My lord, I am very tender how I take up your lordship's time, and therefore I will not trouble you with any more witnesses on this head; but with your lordship's leave I will proceed to call some physicians of note and eminence, to confront the learning of the gentlemen on the other side.
Cowper—My lord, I am very tender how I take up your lordship's time, and therefore I will not trouble you with any more witnesses on this head; but with your lordship's leave I will proceed to call some physicians of note and eminence, to confront the learning of the gentlemen on the other side.
Dr. Sloane[48]said he had not heard the other witnesses very distinctly, because of the crowd; but that cases of the present kind were very uncommon, and that none of them had fallen under his own knowledge. It was plain that a great quantity of water might be swallowed without suffocation;
drunkards, who swallow freely a great deal of liquor, and those who are forced by the civil law to drink a great quantity of water, which in giving the question(as it is called) is poured into them by way of torture to make them confess crimes,[49]have no suffocation or drowning happen to them.But on the other hand, when any quantity comes into the windpipe, so it does hinder or intercept the inspiration, or coming in of the air, which is necessary for the respiration, or breathing, the person is suffocated. Such a small quantity will do, as sometimes in prescriptions, when people have been very weak, or forced to take medicines, I have observed some spoonfuls in that condition (if it went the wrong way) to have choaked or suffocated the person.
drunkards, who swallow freely a great deal of liquor, and those who are forced by the civil law to drink a great quantity of water, which in giving the question(as it is called) is poured into them by way of torture to make them confess crimes,[49]have no suffocation or drowning happen to them.
But on the other hand, when any quantity comes into the windpipe, so it does hinder or intercept the inspiration, or coming in of the air, which is necessary for the respiration, or breathing, the person is suffocated. Such a small quantity will do, as sometimes in prescriptions, when people have been very weak, or forced to take medicines, I have observed some spoonfuls in that condition (if it went the wrong way) to have choaked or suffocated the person.
He took drowning to be when water got into the windpipe or lungs, and believed that whether a person fell into the water alive or dead, some quantity would find its way there. He inclined to believe that the general condition of the body was consistent with the woman having been drowned.
Dr. Garthgave reasons for disagreeing with the doctors called for the prosecution in considering that the general state of the body proved that the woman had not been drowned, pointing out that it was as unnatural for a human body to float on its side, as for a shilling to rest on its edge, or for a deal board to float edgewise rather than otherwise. In spite of what had been said about the seamen, he believed that dead bodies would generally sink.
Hatsell, Baron—But you do not observe my question; the seamen said that those that die at sea and are thrown overboard, if you do not tye a weight to them, they will not sink; what say you to that?Dr. Garth—My lord, no doubt in this they are mistaken. The seamen are a superstitious people, they fancy that whistling at sea will occasion a tempest. I must confess I have never seen anybody thrown overboard, but I have tried some experiments on other dead animals, and they will certainly sink; we have tried this since we came here hither. Now, my lord, I think we have reason to suspect the seaman's evidence; for he saith that three-score pound of iron is allowed to sink the dead bodies, whereas six or seven pounds would do as well. I cannot think the commissioners of the navy guilty of so ill husbandry; but the design of tying weights to their bodies, is to prevent their floating at all, which otherwise would happen in some few days; therefore what I say is this, that if these gentlemen had found a cord, or the print of it, about the neck of this unfortunate gentlewoman, or any wound that had occasioned her death, they might then have said something.
Hatsell, Baron—But you do not observe my question; the seamen said that those that die at sea and are thrown overboard, if you do not tye a weight to them, they will not sink; what say you to that?
Dr. Garth—My lord, no doubt in this they are mistaken. The seamen are a superstitious people, they fancy that whistling at sea will occasion a tempest. I must confess I have never seen anybody thrown overboard, but I have tried some experiments on other dead animals, and they will certainly sink; we have tried this since we came here hither. Now, my lord, I think we have reason to suspect the seaman's evidence; for he saith that three-score pound of iron is allowed to sink the dead bodies, whereas six or seven pounds would do as well. I cannot think the commissioners of the navy guilty of so ill husbandry; but the design of tying weights to their bodies, is to prevent their floating at all, which otherwise would happen in some few days; therefore what I say is this, that if these gentlemen had found a cord, or the print of it, about the neck of this unfortunate gentlewoman, or any wound that had occasioned her death, they might then have said something.
Dr. Morleywas called, and supported the view that a drowned body need not necessarily have much water in it, and that it need not float. He had tried experiments on two dogs the night before; he drowned them both, and dissecting one found no water in its stomach, while the other sank to the bottom of the water.
Dr. WoollastonandDr. Gelstropboth gaveevidence to the same effect as the preceding witnesses.
Cowper—Now, my lord, I would call Mr. William Cowper; and because of his name, I must acquaint your lordship that he is not at all acquainted with me, though I should be proud to own him if he were so; he is a man of great learning, and I believe, most people admit him to be the best anatomist in Europe. Mr. Cowper, will you give your opinion of this matter?
Cowper—Now, my lord, I would call Mr. William Cowper; and because of his name, I must acquaint your lordship that he is not at all acquainted with me, though I should be proud to own him if he were so; he is a man of great learning, and I believe, most people admit him to be the best anatomist in Europe. Mr. Cowper, will you give your opinion of this matter?
Mr. W. Cowper[50]accordingly, premising that he would not only 'speak, from reason,' but give an account of experiments, stated that the symptoms described were consistent with drowning;
this is a truth that no man can deny who is acquainted with any thing of this nature, that when the head of an animal is under water, the first time it is obliged to inspire (or draw in air) the water will necessarily flow into its lungs, as the air would do if it were out of the water; which quantity of water (if the dimensions of the windpipe and its branches in the lungs be considered), will not amount to three inches square, which is about three ounces of water.
this is a truth that no man can deny who is acquainted with any thing of this nature, that when the head of an animal is under water, the first time it is obliged to inspire (or draw in air) the water will necessarily flow into its lungs, as the air would do if it were out of the water; which quantity of water (if the dimensions of the windpipe and its branches in the lungs be considered), will not amount to three inches square, which is about three ounces of water.
And this quantity of water would be sufficient to cause suffocation, and after suffocation, swallowing would become impossible. This he said, not by way of conjecture or hypothesis, but as the result of experiment.
I shall by the bye, tell you how fallacious the first experiment was, when I proposed to satisfy myself whether a dead body would float in water. It happened that a spaniel, that had a great deal of long hair was hanged for this purpose, which I found to float on the surface of the water; but when I considered that his hair might buoy him up, I caused another dog, which had shorter and less hair, to be hanged and put into the water, which (according to what I had always conceived of the human body) sunk directly to the bottom. In order to satisfy myself what quantity of water was necessary to enter the body of an animal, and cause suffocation in water, I caused three dogs, when alive, to be suddenly plunged under water till they were stifled; the result was that about three ounces of water were found in their lungs, and none in their stomachs. Dead bodies generally sank; weights were attached to dead bodies, not so much to make them sink at the time, as to prevent them floating afterwards.Cowper—With your lordship's favour, I now think it a proper time to make this observation. The witnesses that have given evidence for the king do say they believe she was not drowned; but they have not pretended to say how she died otherwise.Hatsell, Baron—That is very true.
I shall by the bye, tell you how fallacious the first experiment was, when I proposed to satisfy myself whether a dead body would float in water. It happened that a spaniel, that had a great deal of long hair was hanged for this purpose, which I found to float on the surface of the water; but when I considered that his hair might buoy him up, I caused another dog, which had shorter and less hair, to be hanged and put into the water, which (according to what I had always conceived of the human body) sunk directly to the bottom. In order to satisfy myself what quantity of water was necessary to enter the body of an animal, and cause suffocation in water, I caused three dogs, when alive, to be suddenly plunged under water till they were stifled; the result was that about three ounces of water were found in their lungs, and none in their stomachs. Dead bodies generally sank; weights were attached to dead bodies, not so much to make them sink at the time, as to prevent them floating afterwards.
Cowper—With your lordship's favour, I now think it a proper time to make this observation. The witnesses that have given evidence for the king do say they believe she was not drowned; but they have not pretended to say how she died otherwise.
Hatsell, Baron—That is very true.
Dr. Crellwas generally of the same opinion asthat expressed by the last witness, and, in spite of the suggestion of the judge that he should confine his evidence to matters within his own experience, quoted the opinion of Ambrose Parey ('who was chief surgeon to Francis the 1st, employed by him in most of his sieges and battles against emperor Charles the 5th, and consequently must observe, and could not be ignorant of such like casualties in such great bodies of men'), as expressed in his chapter of Renunciations, to the effect that the certain sign of a man being drowned was an appearance of froth about his nostrils and mouth. Altogether his firm opinion was that the woman was drowned.
Mr. Harriot, who had been a surgeon in the Fleet; andBartlet, who had been in several naval engagements, both swore that dead bodies when thrown overboard sank at first, though they floated again afterwards.
Mr. Camlinwas called at the coroner's inquest, and examined the body. He found certain marks on the head and breast which Mr. Dimsdale said were only the result of drowning; he had seen more decided marks on the body of the child that was drowned. He saw no indications that Mrs. Stout had been strangled.
Bowd—It was much about this time twelvemonth I had some business in London; and she [Mrs. Stout] sent to me, to know when I should go to London; and I waited upon her before I went, andshe desired me to do some business for her; and when I returned, I acquainted her with what I had done; and sitting together in the hall, I asked her, what is the matter with you? Said I, there is something more than ordinary; you seem to be melancholy. Saith she, you are come from London, and you have heard something or other: said I, I believe you are in love. In love! said she. Yes, said I, Cupid, that little boy, hath struck you home: she took me by the hand; Truly, said she, I must confess it; but I did think I should never be guilty of such a folly: and I answered again, I admire that should make you uneasy; if the person be not of that fortune as you are, you may, if you love him, make him happy and yourself easy. That cannot be, saith she: the world shall not say I change my religion for a husband. And some time after I had been in London, having bought some India goods, she came to my shop and bought some of me for a gown, and afterwards she came to pay me for it; and I asked her, How do you like it? have you made it up? No, said she, and I believe I shall never live to wear it.Cowper—Pray how long is it since?Bowd—It was about February or January before her death. I asked her, why she did not come to my house oftener She said, she had left off all company, and applied herself to reading; and company was indifferent to her.
Bowd—It was much about this time twelvemonth I had some business in London; and she [Mrs. Stout] sent to me, to know when I should go to London; and I waited upon her before I went, andshe desired me to do some business for her; and when I returned, I acquainted her with what I had done; and sitting together in the hall, I asked her, what is the matter with you? Said I, there is something more than ordinary; you seem to be melancholy. Saith she, you are come from London, and you have heard something or other: said I, I believe you are in love. In love! said she. Yes, said I, Cupid, that little boy, hath struck you home: she took me by the hand; Truly, said she, I must confess it; but I did think I should never be guilty of such a folly: and I answered again, I admire that should make you uneasy; if the person be not of that fortune as you are, you may, if you love him, make him happy and yourself easy. That cannot be, saith she: the world shall not say I change my religion for a husband. And some time after I had been in London, having bought some India goods, she came to my shop and bought some of me for a gown, and afterwards she came to pay me for it; and I asked her, How do you like it? have you made it up? No, said she, and I believe I shall never live to wear it.
Cowper—Pray how long is it since?
Bowd—It was about February or January before her death. I asked her, why she did not come to my house oftener She said, she had left off all company, and applied herself to reading; and company was indifferent to her.
Several other witnesses were then called to prove that they had recently seen the deceased woman in a state of melancholy, and that she had admitted that she was in love, though she would not say with whom.
Cowper—Mrs. Cowper, what do you know of Mrs. Stout's melancholy?Cowper—My lord, this is my brother's wife.Mrs. Cowper—About spring was twelve month, she came to London, and I believe it was not less than once or twice a week I saw her; and I never had an opportunity to be an hour alone with her at any time, but I perceived something in her melancholy. I have asked her the reason of it several times, and sometimes she seemed to dislike her profession, being a Quaker; and sometimes she would say, that she was uneasy at something that lay upon her spirits, which she should never outlive; and that she should never be well while she was in this world. Sometimes I have endeavoured to persuade her out of it seriously, and sometimes by raillery, and have said are you sure you shall be better in another world? And particularly I remember I have said to her, I believe you have Mr. Marshall in your head: either have him, or do not trouble yourself about him; make yourself easy either one way or another; and she hath said no, in an indifferent way, I cannot make myself easy: Then I have said, marry him: no, saith she, I cannot. Sometimes with company she would be diverted, and had frequently a way of throwing her hands, and shewed great disturbance and uneasiness. This time twelvemonth, at the summer assizes, I was here six days, and I saw her every day; and one time, among other discourse, she told me she had received great disturbance from one Theophilus, a waterman and a Quaker, who coming down to old Mrs. Stout, that was then lame, she had gathered about 20 or 30 people together to hear him preach; and she said he directed his discourse to her,and exasperated her at the rate that she had thoughts of seeing nobody again, and said, she took it heinously ill to be so used, and particularly, that he had told her that her mother's falling outwardly in the flesh should be a warning that she did not fall inwardly; and such 'canting stuff,' as she called it; and she said, that Theophilus had so used her, that she was ashamed to show her head. Another time, the same week, she had a fever, and she said, she was in great hopes it would end her days, and that she neglected herself in doing those things that were necessary for her health, in hopes it would carry her off, and often wished herself dead. Another time, which I think was the last time I saw her, it was at my sister's lodgings, and I sent for her to drink a dish of tea with us, and she came in a great toss and melancholy: Said I, what is the matter? you are always in this humour. Saith she, I cannot help it, I shall never be otherwise. Saith my sister, for God's sake keep such thoughts out of your head as you have had, do not talk any more of throwing yourself out of window: Saith she, I may thank God that ever I saw your face, otherwise I had done it, but I cannot promise I shall not do it.Hatsell, Baron—What is your name, madam?Cowper—It is my brother's wife, my lord. I desire Mrs. Toller may give an account of what she knows as to her being melancholy.Mrs. Toller—My lord, she was once to see me, and she looked very melancholy, and I asked her what was the matter? and she said, something had vexed her that day; and I asked her the cause of it, and she stopped a little while, and then said, she would drown herself out of the way.Hatsell, Baron—How long ago was this?Mrs. Toller—About three quarters of a year ago.John Stout—I desire to know whether she has always said so, or not told another story.Mrs. Toller—I told you no story; it may be I did not say so much to you, but I said she talked something of drowning. I have been with her when Mr. Cowper's conversation and name has been mentioned, and she said she kept but little company; that sometimes she went to Mrs. Low's, and that she kept none but civil modest company, and that Mr. Cowper was a civil modest gentleman, and that she had nothing to say against him.Cowper—This is Mrs. Eliz. Toller, my lord.Elizabeth Toller—My lord, she came to see me some time after Christmas, and seemed not so cheerful as she used to be; said I, what is the matter? Why are you not so merry as you used to be? Why do you not come often to see me? Saith she, I do not think to go abroad so much as I used to do, and said, it would be as much a rarity to see her go abroad, as to see the sun shine by night.Cowper—Mrs. Grub, what do you know concerning Mrs. Stout's pulling out a letter at her brother, Mr. John Stout's? Give an account of it, and what she said upon that occasion.Mrs. Grub—I have a daughter that lives at Guernsey, and she sent me a letter, and I prayed Mrs. Sarah Stout to read the letter; and while she was reading it I cried; saith she, why do you cry? said I, because my child is so far off. Said she, if I live till winter is over, I will go over the sea as far as I can from the land.Hatsell, Baron—What was the occasion of her saying so?Mrs. Grub—I was washing my master's study, Mrs. Sarah Stout came in, and I had a letter from my daughter at Guernsey, and I prayed Mrs. Sarah Stout to read it, and she read my letter, and I cried, and she asked me, why I cryed? Said I, because my child is so far off: Saith she, if I live to winter, or till winter is over, I will go over sea as far as I can from the land.Cowper—Now, my lord, to bring this matter of melancholy to the point of time, I will call one witness more, who will speak of a remarkable instance that happened on Saturday before the Monday when she did destroy herself.Call Mr. Joseph Taylor. Pray will you inform the court and jury of what you observed on Saturday before the Monday on which Mrs. Stout destroyed herself.Joseph Taylor—I happened to go in at Mr. Firmin's shop, and there she sat the Saturday before this accident happened, the former assizes, and I was saying to her, Madam, I think you look strangely discontented; I never saw you dressed so in my life: Saith she, the dress will serve me as long as I shall have occasion for a dress.Cowper—In what posture did she appear in the shop?Joseph Taylor—She appeared to be very melancholy.Cowper—What part of her dress did you find fault with?Joseph Taylor—It was her head cloaths.Cowper—What was the matter with them?Joseph Taylor—I thought her head was dawbed with some kind of grease or charcoal.Cowper—What answer did she make?Joseph Taylor—She said, they would serve her time.Cowper—As to this piece of evidence, if your lordship pleases, I desire it may be particularly taken notice of; it was her head-dress that she said would serve her time.Pray, Mr. Taylor, was you at Mr. Barefoot's when I came there on Monday morning?Joseph Taylor—Yes; I went up stairs with you into your chamber.Cowper—Pray, what did I say to Mr. Barefoot?Joseph Taylor—You asked him if they had received a letter from your brother, and he said, No, not that he knew of, but he would call his wife, and he did call his wife, and asked her if she had received a letter, and she said, No; then said you, I will take up this lodging for mine; and accordingly you went up stairs, and I went with you, and staid there about four times as long as I have been here.Cowper—Are you very sure that I said, I would take up my lodgings there?Joseph Taylor—Yes, I am very sure of it.Hatsell, Baron—What time of the day was it?Joseph Taylor—It was the fore part of the day; while I was there, my lord, Mrs. Sarah Stout's maid came to invite Mr. Cowper to her house to dinner.Cowper—Did you know anything of my sending to the coffee-house?Joseph Taylor—You sent to the coffee-house for your things.Hatsell, Baron—Did Mr. Cowper use to lie at Mrs. Barefoot's?Joseph Taylor—His brother did, but I do not know whether this gentleman did, but at that time he took up that place for his lodging; and said, it was all one, my brother must pay for it, and therefore I will take it up for myself.Cowper—Call Mrs. Barefoot and her maid.[But they not presently appearing,]Cowper—My lord, in the meantime I will go on to the other part of my evidence, in opening of which I shall be very short.My lord, my wife lodging at Hertford, occasioned me frequently to come down. Mrs. Stout became acquainted with her; When business was over in the long vacation, I resided pretty much at Hertford, and Mr. Marshall came down to pay me a visit, and this introduced his knowledge of Mrs. Stout. When she was first acquainted with him she received him with a great deal of civility and kindness, which induced him to make his addresses to her, as he did, by way of courtship. It happened one evening that she and one Mrs. Crook, Mr. Marshall and myself, were walking together, and Mr. Marshall and Mrs. Crook going some little way before us, she took this opportunity to speak to me in such terms, I must confess, as surprized me. Says she, Mr. Cowper, I did not think you had been so dull. I was inquisitive to know in what my dulness did consist. Why, says she, do you imagine I intend to marry Mr. Marshall? I said I thought she did, and that if she did not, she was much to blame in what she had done: No, says she, I thought it might serve to divert the censure of the world, and favour our acquaintance. My lord, I have some original letters under her own hand which willmake this fully manifest; I will produce the letters after I have called Mr. Marshall. Mr. Marshall.Mr. Marshall—If your lordship pleases, it was in the long vacation I came down to spend a little of my leisure time at Hertford; the reason of my going thither was, because Mr. Cowper was there at that time. The first night when I came down I found Mrs. Sarah Stout visiting at Mr. Cowper's lodgings and there I first came acquainted with her; and she afterwards gave me frequent opportunities of improving that acquaintance; and by the manner of my reception by her, I had no reason to suspect the use it seems I was designed for. When I came to town, my lord, I was generally told of my courting Mrs. Stout, which I confess was not then in my head; but it being represented to me as a thing easy to be got over, and believing the report of the world as to her fortune, I did afterwards make my application to her; but upon very little trial of that sort, I received a very fair denial, and there ended my suit; Mr. Cowper having been so friendly to me, as to give me notice of some things, that convinced me I ought to be thankful I had no more to do with her.Hatsell, Baron—When did she cast you off?Mr. Marshall—I cannot be positive as to the time, my lord, but it was in answer to the only serious letter I ever writ to her; as I remember, I was not over importunate in this affair, for I never was a very violent lover.Hatsell, Baron—Well, but tell the time as near as you can.Mr. Marshall—I believe it was a second or third time I came down to Hertford, which is about a year and a half since; and, during the whole of myacquaintance with her, I never till then found her averse to any proposal of mine; but she then telling me her resolution was not to comply with what I desired, I took her at her word, having, partly by my own observation, but more by Mr. Cowper's friendship, been pretty well able to guess at her meaning.Cowper—Because what you say may stand confirmed beyond contradiction, I desire you to say whether you have any letters from her to yourself?Mr. Marshall—Yes, I have a letter in my hand which she sent me, upon occasion of some songs I sent her when I came to town, which she had before desired of me; and this is a letter in answer to mine; it is her hand-writing, and directed to me.Hatsell, Baron—How do you know it is her hand-writing?Mr. Marshall—I have seen her write, and seen and received several letters from her.Cowper—Pray shew it Mr. Beale.Mr. Beale—I believe it to be her hand; I have seen her write, and have a receipt of hers.Clerk of Arraigns—It is directed to Mr. Thomas Marshall at Lyons-inn, and dated Sept. 26, 1697.
Cowper—Mrs. Cowper, what do you know of Mrs. Stout's melancholy?
Cowper—My lord, this is my brother's wife.
Mrs. Cowper—About spring was twelve month, she came to London, and I believe it was not less than once or twice a week I saw her; and I never had an opportunity to be an hour alone with her at any time, but I perceived something in her melancholy. I have asked her the reason of it several times, and sometimes she seemed to dislike her profession, being a Quaker; and sometimes she would say, that she was uneasy at something that lay upon her spirits, which she should never outlive; and that she should never be well while she was in this world. Sometimes I have endeavoured to persuade her out of it seriously, and sometimes by raillery, and have said are you sure you shall be better in another world? And particularly I remember I have said to her, I believe you have Mr. Marshall in your head: either have him, or do not trouble yourself about him; make yourself easy either one way or another; and she hath said no, in an indifferent way, I cannot make myself easy: Then I have said, marry him: no, saith she, I cannot. Sometimes with company she would be diverted, and had frequently a way of throwing her hands, and shewed great disturbance and uneasiness. This time twelvemonth, at the summer assizes, I was here six days, and I saw her every day; and one time, among other discourse, she told me she had received great disturbance from one Theophilus, a waterman and a Quaker, who coming down to old Mrs. Stout, that was then lame, she had gathered about 20 or 30 people together to hear him preach; and she said he directed his discourse to her,and exasperated her at the rate that she had thoughts of seeing nobody again, and said, she took it heinously ill to be so used, and particularly, that he had told her that her mother's falling outwardly in the flesh should be a warning that she did not fall inwardly; and such 'canting stuff,' as she called it; and she said, that Theophilus had so used her, that she was ashamed to show her head. Another time, the same week, she had a fever, and she said, she was in great hopes it would end her days, and that she neglected herself in doing those things that were necessary for her health, in hopes it would carry her off, and often wished herself dead. Another time, which I think was the last time I saw her, it was at my sister's lodgings, and I sent for her to drink a dish of tea with us, and she came in a great toss and melancholy: Said I, what is the matter? you are always in this humour. Saith she, I cannot help it, I shall never be otherwise. Saith my sister, for God's sake keep such thoughts out of your head as you have had, do not talk any more of throwing yourself out of window: Saith she, I may thank God that ever I saw your face, otherwise I had done it, but I cannot promise I shall not do it.
Hatsell, Baron—What is your name, madam?
Cowper—It is my brother's wife, my lord. I desire Mrs. Toller may give an account of what she knows as to her being melancholy.
Mrs. Toller—My lord, she was once to see me, and she looked very melancholy, and I asked her what was the matter? and she said, something had vexed her that day; and I asked her the cause of it, and she stopped a little while, and then said, she would drown herself out of the way.
Hatsell, Baron—How long ago was this?
Mrs. Toller—About three quarters of a year ago.
John Stout—I desire to know whether she has always said so, or not told another story.
Mrs. Toller—I told you no story; it may be I did not say so much to you, but I said she talked something of drowning. I have been with her when Mr. Cowper's conversation and name has been mentioned, and she said she kept but little company; that sometimes she went to Mrs. Low's, and that she kept none but civil modest company, and that Mr. Cowper was a civil modest gentleman, and that she had nothing to say against him.
Cowper—This is Mrs. Eliz. Toller, my lord.
Elizabeth Toller—My lord, she came to see me some time after Christmas, and seemed not so cheerful as she used to be; said I, what is the matter? Why are you not so merry as you used to be? Why do you not come often to see me? Saith she, I do not think to go abroad so much as I used to do, and said, it would be as much a rarity to see her go abroad, as to see the sun shine by night.
Cowper—Mrs. Grub, what do you know concerning Mrs. Stout's pulling out a letter at her brother, Mr. John Stout's? Give an account of it, and what she said upon that occasion.
Mrs. Grub—I have a daughter that lives at Guernsey, and she sent me a letter, and I prayed Mrs. Sarah Stout to read the letter; and while she was reading it I cried; saith she, why do you cry? said I, because my child is so far off. Said she, if I live till winter is over, I will go over the sea as far as I can from the land.
Hatsell, Baron—What was the occasion of her saying so?
Mrs. Grub—I was washing my master's study, Mrs. Sarah Stout came in, and I had a letter from my daughter at Guernsey, and I prayed Mrs. Sarah Stout to read it, and she read my letter, and I cried, and she asked me, why I cryed? Said I, because my child is so far off: Saith she, if I live to winter, or till winter is over, I will go over sea as far as I can from the land.
Cowper—Now, my lord, to bring this matter of melancholy to the point of time, I will call one witness more, who will speak of a remarkable instance that happened on Saturday before the Monday when she did destroy herself.
Call Mr. Joseph Taylor. Pray will you inform the court and jury of what you observed on Saturday before the Monday on which Mrs. Stout destroyed herself.
Joseph Taylor—I happened to go in at Mr. Firmin's shop, and there she sat the Saturday before this accident happened, the former assizes, and I was saying to her, Madam, I think you look strangely discontented; I never saw you dressed so in my life: Saith she, the dress will serve me as long as I shall have occasion for a dress.
Cowper—In what posture did she appear in the shop?
Joseph Taylor—She appeared to be very melancholy.
Cowper—What part of her dress did you find fault with?
Joseph Taylor—It was her head cloaths.
Cowper—What was the matter with them?
Joseph Taylor—I thought her head was dawbed with some kind of grease or charcoal.
Cowper—What answer did she make?
Joseph Taylor—She said, they would serve her time.
Cowper—As to this piece of evidence, if your lordship pleases, I desire it may be particularly taken notice of; it was her head-dress that she said would serve her time.
Pray, Mr. Taylor, was you at Mr. Barefoot's when I came there on Monday morning?
Joseph Taylor—Yes; I went up stairs with you into your chamber.
Cowper—Pray, what did I say to Mr. Barefoot?
Joseph Taylor—You asked him if they had received a letter from your brother, and he said, No, not that he knew of, but he would call his wife, and he did call his wife, and asked her if she had received a letter, and she said, No; then said you, I will take up this lodging for mine; and accordingly you went up stairs, and I went with you, and staid there about four times as long as I have been here.
Cowper—Are you very sure that I said, I would take up my lodgings there?
Joseph Taylor—Yes, I am very sure of it.
Hatsell, Baron—What time of the day was it?
Joseph Taylor—It was the fore part of the day; while I was there, my lord, Mrs. Sarah Stout's maid came to invite Mr. Cowper to her house to dinner.
Cowper—Did you know anything of my sending to the coffee-house?
Joseph Taylor—You sent to the coffee-house for your things.
Hatsell, Baron—Did Mr. Cowper use to lie at Mrs. Barefoot's?
Joseph Taylor—His brother did, but I do not know whether this gentleman did, but at that time he took up that place for his lodging; and said, it was all one, my brother must pay for it, and therefore I will take it up for myself.
Cowper—Call Mrs. Barefoot and her maid.
[But they not presently appearing,]
Cowper—My lord, in the meantime I will go on to the other part of my evidence, in opening of which I shall be very short.
My lord, my wife lodging at Hertford, occasioned me frequently to come down. Mrs. Stout became acquainted with her; When business was over in the long vacation, I resided pretty much at Hertford, and Mr. Marshall came down to pay me a visit, and this introduced his knowledge of Mrs. Stout. When she was first acquainted with him she received him with a great deal of civility and kindness, which induced him to make his addresses to her, as he did, by way of courtship. It happened one evening that she and one Mrs. Crook, Mr. Marshall and myself, were walking together, and Mr. Marshall and Mrs. Crook going some little way before us, she took this opportunity to speak to me in such terms, I must confess, as surprized me. Says she, Mr. Cowper, I did not think you had been so dull. I was inquisitive to know in what my dulness did consist. Why, says she, do you imagine I intend to marry Mr. Marshall? I said I thought she did, and that if she did not, she was much to blame in what she had done: No, says she, I thought it might serve to divert the censure of the world, and favour our acquaintance. My lord, I have some original letters under her own hand which willmake this fully manifest; I will produce the letters after I have called Mr. Marshall. Mr. Marshall.
Mr. Marshall—If your lordship pleases, it was in the long vacation I came down to spend a little of my leisure time at Hertford; the reason of my going thither was, because Mr. Cowper was there at that time. The first night when I came down I found Mrs. Sarah Stout visiting at Mr. Cowper's lodgings and there I first came acquainted with her; and she afterwards gave me frequent opportunities of improving that acquaintance; and by the manner of my reception by her, I had no reason to suspect the use it seems I was designed for. When I came to town, my lord, I was generally told of my courting Mrs. Stout, which I confess was not then in my head; but it being represented to me as a thing easy to be got over, and believing the report of the world as to her fortune, I did afterwards make my application to her; but upon very little trial of that sort, I received a very fair denial, and there ended my suit; Mr. Cowper having been so friendly to me, as to give me notice of some things, that convinced me I ought to be thankful I had no more to do with her.
Hatsell, Baron—When did she cast you off?
Mr. Marshall—I cannot be positive as to the time, my lord, but it was in answer to the only serious letter I ever writ to her; as I remember, I was not over importunate in this affair, for I never was a very violent lover.
Hatsell, Baron—Well, but tell the time as near as you can.
Mr. Marshall—I believe it was a second or third time I came down to Hertford, which is about a year and a half since; and, during the whole of myacquaintance with her, I never till then found her averse to any proposal of mine; but she then telling me her resolution was not to comply with what I desired, I took her at her word, having, partly by my own observation, but more by Mr. Cowper's friendship, been pretty well able to guess at her meaning.
Cowper—Because what you say may stand confirmed beyond contradiction, I desire you to say whether you have any letters from her to yourself?
Mr. Marshall—Yes, I have a letter in my hand which she sent me, upon occasion of some songs I sent her when I came to town, which she had before desired of me; and this is a letter in answer to mine; it is her hand-writing, and directed to me.
Hatsell, Baron—How do you know it is her hand-writing?
Mr. Marshall—I have seen her write, and seen and received several letters from her.
Cowper—Pray shew it Mr. Beale.
Mr. Beale—I believe it to be her hand; I have seen her write, and have a receipt of hers.
Clerk of Arraigns—It is directed to Mr. Thomas Marshall at Lyons-inn, and dated Sept. 26, 1697.