On Tuesday night, May 5th, 1840, Lord William Russell, infirm, deaf, and
aged, being in his seventy-third year, was murdered in his bed. He was a
widower, living at No. 14 Norfolk Street, Park Lane, London, a small
house, occupied by only himself and three servants,--Courvoisier, a
young Swiss valet, and two women, a cook and house-maid. The evidence
was of a character to show very clearly that the crime had been
committed by some one in the house; but, Courvoisier's behavior
throughout had been that of an innocent man. Two examinations of his
trunk, by the officers of the police, showed nothing suspicious; rewards
having been offered by the government and family of the deceased; for
the detection of the criminal, a third examination was made of
Courvoisier's box, which resulted in the discovery of a pair of white
cotton gloves, two pocket handkerchiefs, and a shirt-front, stained with
blood. The prisoner's counsel went to the trial with a full persuasion
of his innocence, and conducted the cross-examination closely and
zealously, especially of Sarah Mancer, one of the female domestics, with
a view of showing that there was as much probability that the witness or
the other domestic was the criminal as the prisoner; and that the
police, incited by the hopes of the large rewards offered, had conspired
to fasten the suspicion unjustly on him. At the close of the first day's
proceedings, the prosecutors were placed unexpectedly in possession of a
new and important item of evidence: the discovery of the plate of the
deceased, which was missed, and that it had been left by the prisoner,
at the place where it was found, about a week, perhaps only a very few
days, before the committing of the murder. The parcel contained silver
spoons, forks, a pair of gold auricles, all unquestionably the property
of the unfortunate nobleman; and the only question remaining was,
whether Courvoisier was the person who had so left it. If he were, it
would, of course, grievously for him, increase the _probabilities_ that
it must have been he who subsequently committed the murder, and with the
object of plunder. On the ensuing morning, the person who had made this
discovery (Mrs. Piolaine, the wife of a Frenchman, who kept a place of
entertainment, called L'Hotel de Dieppe, in Leicester Place, Leicester
Square), was shown a number of prisoners in the prison-yard, one of whom
was Courvoisier, whom she instantly recognized as the person who had
left the plate with her, and also had formerly lived in her employ.
Courvoisier also suddenly recognized her, and with dismay. The immediate
effect of his panic was the confession of his guilt to his counsel at
the bar of the court, a few minutes afterwards, coupled with his desire,
nevertheless, to be defended to the utmost. His probable object was
simply to prepare his counsel against the forthcoming evidence. The
prisoner was convicted, and afterwards confessed his crime. Mr.
Phillips's conduct of the defence was criticized at the time, in the
columns of the Examiner, but he suffered it to pass in silence. In 1849,
that periodical renewed the accusation originally made, upon which the
following correspondence appeared in the London Times of Nov. 20th,
1849.