Mrs. Walsh, had lived with her for six years, previous to August last.
The last place at which she resided with her was in Red Lion-court,
in the Minories. The prisoners at the time lived next door to her in
the same court. Having given up her room in the beginning of July, the
old woman stopped for some time with the prisoners, who took it; and
she (witness) subsequently took lodgings for her at a Mrs. Shaw's, in
Playhouse-yard, Houndsditch. Her invariable practice was never to go
out before ten or eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and return at three
or four o'clock in the afternoon, and sometimes much earlier. She was
in the habit of selling tapes, threads, and other articles. The last
time she saw her was about four o'clock in the afternoon of Friday, the
19th of August, at the house of Mrs. Shaw. She (witness) then told her
that she understood she was going to Cook's to lodge, as she had seen
her bed there in the course of the morning. The old woman said she was;
upon which she remarked, that if she went to Cook's, they would cook
her; that they were body-snatchers, and would put a pitch-plaster on
her, and sell her body at some of the hospitals. The old woman seemed
displeased and angry at her remarks, said that the Cooks were not so
bad, and requested that she, witness, would accompany her to their
house. This witness refused, but went part of the way; and on their
parting at the end of Cutler-street, she told her that she was sure
she should never see her more. She, however, told her not to stir out
the next morning until she called on her, and that she would bring her
some stockings, and other articles which she required. The old lady
said she would not, and they parted. During the whole Friday night
the witness could scarcely get any rest, such were her apprehensions
about her grandmother; and on the following morning she went to the
house of the prisoners, at about a quarter before nine o'clock. On
reaching it, she found no one at home but the female. She asked her
for the old lady, and she said she was just gone out. She appeared a
good deal confused at the time. Witness expressed some surprise that
she should go out so early, contrary to her usual habit, and more
particularly as she must have expected her, and promised to wait at
home until she called; on which the female prisoner said, that she
was gone out early, in order that she might return early; and added,
that whatever things she (witness) might have for her, she might leave
them. The female prisoner was washing something at the time, which she
said was a butcher's jacket. She said that her husband, Cook, was very
partial to the old lady; that they had a jolly good supper on the
night before; and that Cook had treated the old lady to 'something
short.' She next pointed to a sack which lay on the bed, and said
that Cook had doubled it up on the night before, to put the old woman
in it. Witness asked her what she meant by putting the old woman in
a sack; and she replied, that he had doubled it up to place it under
her on the bed. She also said that the old woman had no linen on. This
witness thought somewhat extraordinary that she should have examined
her so closely, and asked her how she came to do so; but she made no
reply. Witness again expressed much uneasiness about her grandmother,
on which the female prisoner told her that she had left her and her
husband sitting by the fire when she went out to collect some cinders,
and on her return she was gone. She (witness) asked the female prisoner
to go out with her to have something to drink. She did so, and they
went to two public-houses. While in one of them she earnestly inquired
about the old woman, when the female prisoner observed, 'You speak as
if you thought we had murdered or made away with her.' Witness observed
that she had her suspicions that such was the case, but she did not
wish then to express what her feelings were. Mrs. Cook pressed her
(witness) afterwards to go home with her to have something to eat, but
she refused to do so, and gave her some halfpence to get some bread and
cheese with, but she did not return. Witness, after searching about for
the old lady, went again to the residence of the prisoners. They were
both at home, and Cook appeared in a most savage temper, and the female
appeared to be dreadfully beaten. Her face was one mass of contusions.
Cook shortly afterwards left the room, and the female told her, that he
had given her a desperate beating because she had been out with her,
and lest she should let anything drop about the old woman. Witness
expressed some surprise that so quiet-looking a man as Cook appeared
to be, should act so; on which the female observed, that he 'was the
greatest murderer in Europe if the truth was known.' She (witness)
had subsequently made inquiries at all the gaols, poor-houses, and
hospitals in the metropolis, about her grandmother, but was not able to
obtain the slightest intelligence about her. She had never recollected
her stopping a night from home. Mrs. Cook had frequently solicited the
old woman to go to lodge with her, and appeared most anxious to know if
she (witness) was her daughter or any relation of hers. She, however,
never told her that she was more than a friend, who had known her from
her childhood, and as such she respected her. She had repeatedly warned
her grandmother against going to the house of the prisoners, by telling
her what they were, and that they would be sure to put a black plaster
on her, and dispose of her body, but she still had a good opinion of
them. On the Monday night after the old woman was first missed, she
went to the house of the prisoners: it was late in the evening, and
Cook was in bed. Mrs. Cook pressed her very much to stop there all
night, as she appeared tired, saying, that her husband would have no
objection to her doing so. She refused to do so; and Cook desired her
not to be so uneasy about the old woman, as in all probability she
would hear from her at the end of the month. 'At this instant,' said
the witness, 'I thought I heard the voice of my grandmother, as plain
as ever I heard her in the course of my life, say, "Nancy, where is the
use of your looking for me, when I have been suffocated in that bed
of Cook's, by him and his wife?" The circumstance, as well as her own
fears to get out of the place, had such an effect upon her, that she
was scarcely able to walk down stairs.
JOHN SHIELDS, a lad of about fourteen years of age, who lodged in
August last in the same house with the prisoners, recollected one
Friday night, about nine weeks since, having some words with his
father, and being turned out of the room; he in consequence sat on
the stairs. It was between ten and eleven o'clock at the time. Mrs.
Cook came down stairs, and asked him if he had been again turned out
through that wretch (meaning a woman who used to wash and clean for
himself and his father). She said, that if she served her boy so, she
would rip her from top to toe. She then requested him to go in; but his
father not being in bed he could not, and he went into a dark corner
of the stairs. Mrs. Cook passed, without seeing him, and remained for
about half an hour at the street door, and then went up to her room.
While he was in the corner, Cook was coming down stairs; but before he
reached him, somebody called him back, and witness being called into
his father's room, went to bed. As he was coming down stairs at five
o'clock the next morning, he saw Mrs. Cook come from the cellar, and
heard the cellar flap fall, and she asked him where he was going so
early. He returned about six o'clock, and went into the cellar to get
some eggs, as he kept some ducks and hens there. He felt about for some
time for the eggs, and after getting them, brought them up stairs. The
cellar was very dark, and he could not see the body if it was in a sack
under the stairs. It might be there, without his observing it.
[Illustration: ELIZA ROSS.]
A witness named BARRY deposed to having seen the prisoners and their
son one morning at two o'clock, in the Minories, in the month of June
last. Their son had a sack on his back, in which she (witness) was
satisfied was the body of a child. His mother helped him to carry it,
and they turned into the court into which they resided.
Young COOK was here called and questioned, but he denied all knowledge
of the transaction, and said, he never was out so late as two o'clock
in the morning. He said that the statement of the day before was quite
correct. In reply to a question from Mr. HARDWICK, he said that after
the death of the old lady, his mother took her up like a baby in her
arms, and carried her down stairs. This induced the magistrate to make
some inquiries as to the person of the missing female, and it appeared,
though she was very tall and a good figure, she was not very heavy.
LEA deposed to having apprehended the prisoners, and detailed at some
length their contradictory statements. After their examination on the
preceding evening, the prisoners were locked up in their different
cells, the man in the centre, and the woman and boy on both sides; he
heard the female call out to Cook to ask the boy who had told him to
say all that he had against her, and why he did so? and on Cook asking
the question, the boy replied, that no one told him, and that he said
so because his mother did it.
The examination, after lasting nearly six hours, terminated here; and
the prisoners, who contented themselves with a mere declaration of
innocence, were committed for trial.
* * * * *
On Friday, the 6th of January, Edward Cook, aged fifty, and Eliza
Ross, aged thirty-eight, were placed at the bar, indicted for the
wilful murder of Caroline Walsh, on the 19th of August last. The
female prisoner was charged with causing the death of the deceased,
by violently squeezing her neck, breast, stomach, and nostrils, until
suffocation ensued; and the male prisoner was charged with aiding and
abetting in the said murder. They were also indicted for the murder of
a person unknown.
The prisoner pleaded 'Not guilty,'
Mr. ADOLPHUS and Mr. BODKIN appeared for the prosecution; Mr. BARRY for
the prisoner Cook; and Mr. CHURCHILL for the prisoner Cook.
Mr. ADOLPHUS said, that the case to which it was now his duty to call
the serious attention of the Court and the Jury, was one of the most
extraordinary in all its circumstances that had ever presented itself
in the annals of crime. He was sorry to say, that it was not of late
very extraordinary to find persons base enough to raise the hand of
murder against their fellow-creatures without any previously-conceived
malice against them,--without being stirred up by passion or ill blood,
but solely impelled from the spirit of sordid gain,--a gain not to
be derived from the possession of the property of their victim, but
from the very being which God gave them; their object being to derive
profit from the dead bodies to persons engaged in the prosecution of
the science of surgery. This was not, however, the most extraordinary
circumstance of the present case; but the many facts which he had to
unfold to the Court formed one of the most imposing narratives which
had ever fallen to the lot of any man placed in his situation to
relate. The person about whose death they had met that day to inquire,
was named Caroline Walsh, a native of Ireland, and at the time of
her murder had reached the advanced age of eighty-four years. She
had been living for some time in Red-lion-court, in company with her
grand-daughter, who took care of her. The old woman had no means of
existence except the produce which she gained from selling tapes and
thread in the streets, which she carried about in a basket, and from
such alms as charitable persons chose to bestow upon her. Nevertheless,
notwithstanding her advanced age, she was strong and hale, of
considerable height, and commanding presence; and, what was remarkable
in a woman of eighty-four years of age, she had a perfect set of teeth.
They were all uninjured except one tooth, three from the centre, which
was slightly broken, and in the cavity of which she used to place her
pipe whilst smoking. The colour of her hair was black, mixed with gray.
Her dress was also remarkable in many particulars. She wore a chip or
willow hat (which had been broken by some injury), a shawl, the colour
of which had been discharged by long use, a stuff petticoat, embossed
with figures, and her apparel was, upon the whole, very clean for a
person in her situation in the world. She had also on a pair of knit
stockings, mended at the heels, with a linen shift, darned in many
parts. This person had become acquainted with the prisoner at the bar.
He understood that the female prisoner was not the wife of the male,
but they had lived together as man and wife. They had a son, a pupil
in a charity school, who lived at home, but was obliged to go out
early in the morning. The female prisoner made herself acquainted with
Caroline Walsh, and frequently solicited her to come and live at her
house, which the grand-daughter of the old woman had always dissuaded
her from doing. On the 19th of August, however, the old woman made up
her bed in a bundle, went away, and carried it to Goodman's-yard, from
which time all trace was lost of her, except through the medium of some
very extraordinary circumstances. She was received by the two prisoners
in their house in Goodman's-yard, in the presence of the boy, their
son, and he now informed the Jury, that one of the many extraordinary
things in this case was, that the judgment to which they might come
with respect to the prisoners at the bar depended upon the evidence
of that boy, for he was present during the whole of the transaction
which was the subject of the present inquiry. That boy would have to
come into court, and state facts under the solemn promise of his oath,
which might endanger the lives of his father and mother. He hoped he
was not insensible to the situation in which he stood, in having to
call a son to impeach his own parents; and he was sure the Jury would
bear in mind, that if one life had been lost by violent means, the
lives of two persons (the prisoners at the bar) were committed to
their care. The old woman was well received and kindly treated in the
prisoners' house, and coffee was made about nine o'clock, an unusual
hour for persons in the prisoners' situation to take that refreshment.
Some of the coffee was given to the old woman, who immediately felt
herself under the necessity of going to sleep, and she sat down on the
bedstead. The woman at the bar then went near to her, held down the
old woman's hand, which supported her head, and covered and oppressed
her person until she destroyed her life. The man took no share in this
transaction by manual operation, but, on the contrary, opened a window,
and put his head out of it during the time. The Jury would, however,
have to determine whether he, being present, could be unconscious of
what was passing, and whether he did not, in fact, so sanction the
murder as to make himself a principal in aiding and abetting. After
destroying the life of the old woman, the female prisoner, who appeared
to be a very strong woman, took the body up and carried it out of the
room, and deposited it in the cellar of the house. This cellar was
common to every person lodging in the house; but there was one part of
it a good deal concealed, and in that part of it the body was placed.
The prisoners' son had occasion to go into the cellar next day, and
there saw a sack with a head hanging out of it, which he recognized
as that of the woman who was in the room with him the night before.
The female prisoner was seen with the sack going down Goodman's-yard
into the Minories; but what became of the body was not known. He had
mentioned that the old woman had a grand-daughter, who had endeavoured
to dissuade her relation from going to live with the prisoners. The
grand-daughter had particularly desired her relation, when she went
to the prisoners, not to leave the place next morning until she, the
grand-daughter, called upon her. Accordingly, early in the following
morning she went to the prisoners' house, and saw the female prisoner.
Upon her inquiring for her grandmother, the female prisoner said that
she had gone out; at which she expressed her surprise. The female
prisoner added, that they had had a pleasant night of it, that they
had had a good supper, and 'there,' she said, 'is the sack which we
put the old woman in.' 'What do you mean?' said the grand-daughter.
'Why, we doubled it under her, and put her in the bedstead.' 'That is
very extraordinary,' said the grand-daughter, 'for there is her own
bed in a corner of the room.' The grand-daughter still pursuing her
inquiries, the female prisoner at length turned round on her, and said,
'Do you think we have murdered her?' The grand-daughter replied that
it really looked as if they had, and that some inquiry must be made.
Some further conversation then took place, and the grand-daughter,
whose name was Mrs. Butin, with the view of obtaining more knowledge
regarding her relation, agreed to go to a public-house with the female
prisoner, where they had some gin and beer; there the matter was a
good deal more touched upon, but he would leave the witness herself to
describe what took place. The female prisoner left her, and after a
time Mrs. Butin went back to the prisoners' lodgings, and found that in
the mean time the female prisoner had been very severely beaten. The
woman said, 'My husband has beaten me for going to drink with you. He
was afraid I should tell something about the woman;' adding something
which, as it was not said in the presence of the male prisoner, he
could not now repeat. These circumstances created considerable alarm in
Mrs. Butin's mind as to the fate of her grandmother. The transaction
took place in the month of August last, when there did not exist among
the public so much anxiety with respect to a crime which has since
obtained the popular name of 'Burking.' Mrs. Butin searched everywhere
for her relation, but when she applied to the police-offices she did
not meet with much attention; but afterwards, when the public attention
had been more strongly directed to that species of crime which he had
mentioned, she went to Lambeth-street police-office, and there got
the assistance of a clever officer, of the name of Lea, to aid her in
her inquiries. All their efforts, however, to discover the old woman
were in vain; but a very extraordinary circumstance turned up in
the course of their investigation. They went about to the different
hospitals, to ascertain whether any body answering the description
of Caroline Walsh had been carried there, and they learned that, on
the 20th of August, a woman was brought to the London Hospital in a
state of great destitution and wretchedness, and that she died on the
2d of September. The name of that woman was Caroline Welsh. This was
a very extraordinary coincidence, and was a circumstance with which
it was his duty to acquaint the Jury, and of which the prisoners were
entitled to all the benefit. The Caroline Welsh was an old woman, she
had a basket with her, and bore so many resemblances to Caroline Walsh
as, at first sight, seemed to make it difficult to distinguish between
the two. But upon pursuing the inquiry further, it was found to be
impossible that Caroline Walsh and Caroline Welsh should be one and
the same person. The woman who died in the hospital was not at all of
a decent appearance. She was found in the streets on the night of the
20th of August, by the beadle, in a state of almost utter destitution
and starvation. She was taken to the workhouse of the parish, where she
gave no account of who she was or where she lived, and her person was
so filthy, and so overrun with vermin, that her clothes were obliged
to be taken off and burned. She had on a bonnet, but not a chip or
willow bonnet, like Caroline Walsh, but a silk or gauze one; and there
were other material distinctions between the two women. When she came
to the hospital, it was found that she had broken the cap of her knee,
which misfortune rendered it difficult for her to walk, and, probably,
tended to produce the disease of which she died. Caroline Walsh, on the
contrary, was perfectly well in body, and walked without any infirmity.
There was also another striking distinction between the two women:
Caroline Walsh had, for a woman of her age, a fair, healthy, and florid
complexion, while the person who died in the hospital was so extremely
dark, as to make the persons about her believe that she was not of
white blood, but of the African cast. He had already mentioned that
Caroline Walsh had a regular set of teeth, while the other woman had
only two canine teeth in the upper jaw, and none in the lower. Until
Lea, the officer, lent his assistance, this inquiry was not efficiently
pursued, but when he went to the hospital, he caused the woman's body
to be dug up in the month of November, when there was still enough of
her remaining to show who and what she was. A great number of persons
saw the face and skull, and were able to pronounce at once, that it
was not the body of Caroline Walsh. He had already traced Walsh to
the prisoners' house, on the 19th of August, since which time she had
not been heard of. There was a circumstance which greatly tended to
fix the guilt of having unfairly disposed of the old woman, on one or
both of the prisoners. Rag-fair was situated in the neighbourhood of
Goodman's-yard, and the prisoners were there observed to be offering
for sale articles of dress exactly similar to those worn by Mrs. Walsh;
and directing the purchasers 'not to let them appear, as they did not
want the things to be looked at.' The female prisoner was also seen to
sell the very basket which Mrs. Walsh used to carry about with her.
It was also a remarkable circumstance, that the pocket worn by Mrs.
Walsh, on the 19th of August, had been made by the grand-daughter, and
was tendered for sale by the woman at the bar; and he could prove,
that the pocket was worn by Mrs. Walsh, not only from Mrs. Butin being
able to swear to her own work, but in consequence of its having been
seen on her person on the very day she went to the prisoners' house.
It appeared, that on the way there she met with a child, for whom
she felt much affection, and wishing to give the child something,
she lifted her petticoat to get at her pocket, which was observed by
a person near, who could swear to the pocket, in consequence of a
mark of iron-mould upon it. He had now stated nearly all the facts
which would be proved before the Jury. The fate of the prisoners was
in their hands, and he had no doubt that, aided by that Providence
which overlooked them all, and who seldom permitted deep crimes to go
unpunished in this world, they would arrive at a just conclusion. The
learned counsel then proceeded to call the evidence.
The first witness called was Edward Cook, the son of the prisoners. As
he passed by the bar where they stood, they looked sternly at him, and
the mother asked whether 'he had come to tell any more lies?'