would make her his wife. On the 18th of May 1827, Corder called at the
house of old Marten, and then expressed his willingness that the
ceremony should be performed; and he said that, in order that no time
should be lost, and that the marriage might be as private as possible,
he had made up his mind to have it celebrated by licence instead of by
bans. The next day was appointed for the wedding, and he persuaded the
unhappy girl to dress herself in a suit of his clothes, so as to secure
the greatest secrecy, and to accompany him to a part of his premises
called the Red Barn, where she could exchange them for her own, and from
whence he would convey her in a gig, which he had in readiness, to a
church at Ipswich. The girl having consented to this singular
proposition, Corder immediately quitted the house, and he was soon after
followed by his unhappy victim, who carried with her such part of her
own clothes as would be necessary to appear with in church. In the
course of a conversation which took place between Corder and the mother
of the girl, before their going away, the former repeatedly declared his
intention to make the girl his lawful wife, and he urged as a reason why
she should go with him immediately, that he knew that a warrant had been
issued against her, for her bastard children. Within a few minutes after
Corder had quitted the house, he was seen by the brother of the girl
walking in the direction towards the Red Barn, with a pick-axe over his
shoulder; but from this time nothing was ever heard of the unfortunate
girl, except through the fictitious communications received from Corder,
who still remained at his mother's house at Polstead. The return of
Maria Marten had been expected to take place within one or two days
after the time of her quitting her fathers house; but as she had
occasionally before exhibited considerable irregularity in the duration
of her visits to Corder, and as, besides, there was an understanding
that the latter should procure her a temporary lodging, little anxiety
or alarm was at first felt at her prolonged absence. A fortnight having
elapsed, however, her mother proceeded to question Corder upon the
subject, when he declared that she was quite safe and well, and that he
had placed her at some distance, lest his friends might discover the
fact of his marriage, and exhibit displeasure at the circumstance.
Having thus from time to time put off the inquiries which were made of
him, in the month of September, declaring that he was in ill health, he
quitted Suffolk with the avowed object of proceeding to the Continent;
and it is not a little remarkable, that before he left Polstead, he
expressed great anxiety that the Red Barn should be well filled with
stock, a desire which he personally saw fulfilled. He took with him
about 400_l._ in money; and several letters were subsequently received
by his mother, who was a widow, as well as the Martens, in which he
stated that he was living at the Isle of Wight with Maria. It was
remarked that although he represented his residence to be in the Isle of
Wight, his letters always bore the London postmark; and at length
strange surmises and suspicions began to be entertained, in consequence
of no personal communication having yet been received from his supposed
wife. The parents of the unhappy girl became more and more disturbed and
dissatisfied; and the circumstances, which eventually led to the
discovery of this most atrocious crime, are of so extraordinary and
romantic a nature, as almost to manifest an especial interposition of
Providence in marking out the offender. In the course of the month of
March 1828, Mrs. Marten dreamed on three successive nights that her
daughter had been murdered and buried in the Red Barn. Terrified at the
repetition of the vision, an undefined suspicion, which she had always
entertained, that her daughter had been unfairly dealt with, appeared
fully confirmed in her own mind; and so lively were her feelings, and so
convinced was she of the truth of the augury, that on Saturday, the 19th
of April, she persuaded her husband to apply for permission to examine
the Red Barn, with the professed object of looking for their daughter's
clothes. The grain which had been deposited in the barn had by this time
been removed, and the permission having been obtained, the wretched
father proceeded to the accomplishment of the object he had in view. He
applied himself to the spot pointed out to his wife in her dream, as the
place in which her daughter's remains were deposited; and there, upon
digging, he turned up a piece of the shawl which he knew his daughter
had worn at the time of her quitting her home. Alarmed at the discovery,
he prosecuted his search still further, and having dug to the depth of
eighteen inches, with his rake he dragged out a part of a human body.
Horror-struck, he staggered from the spot; but subsequent examination
proved that his suspicions were well founded, and that it was indeed his
murdered daughter, the place of deposit of whose remains had been so
remarkably pointed out. The body, as may be supposed, was in an advanced
state of decomposition; but the dress, which was perfect, and certain
marks in the teeth of the deceased, afforded sufficient proofs of her
identity.
As may be imagined, the whole neighbourhood was in an uproar of
confusion at this most extraordinary circumstance; and information was
immediately conveyed to the coroner, in order that an inquest might be
held. By the time a coroner's jury had assembled, a surgical examination
of the body had taken place; and Mr. John Lawden, a surgeon, proved,
that there were appearances yet remaining sufficient to indicate that
the deceased had come to her death by violent means. He said that there
was a visible appearance of blood on the face and on the clothes of the
deceased, and also on a handkerchief which was round the neck; that the
handkerchief appeared to have been tied extremely tight, and beneath the
folds, a wound was visible in the throat, which had evidently been
inflicted by some sharp instrument. There was also a wound in the orbit
of the right eye; and it seemed as if something had been thrust in which
had fractured the small bones, and penetrated the brain. On the finding
of the body, it was partly enveloped in a sack, and it was clothed only
in a shift, flannel petticoat, stays, stockings, and shoes.
No sooner had the body been discovered than all eyes turned to Corder as
the murderer; and information having been despatched to London, Lea, an
officer of Lambeth-street, was forthwith sent in pursuit of the supposed
offender. With a loose clue only he traced him from place to place,
until at length he found him residing at Grove House, Ealing-lane, near
Brentford, where, in conjunction with his wife, whom he had married only
about five months before, and to whom, it was said, he had introduced
himself through the medium of a matrimonial advertisement, he was
carrying on a school for young ladies. It was necessary to employ a
degree of stratagem to obtain admission to the house; but at length,
Lea, having represented that he had a daughter, whom he wished to put
to school, he was introduced to a parlour, where he found the object of
his search sitting at breakfast with four ladies. He was in his
dressing-gown, and he had his watch before him, with which he was
minuting the boiling of some eggs. The officer having called him on one
side, informed him that he had a serious charge against him, and
inquired whether he was not acquainted with a person named Maria Marten
at Polstead; but he denied that he had any knowledge of such a person
even by name. He was then secured; and upon his house being searched, a
brace of pistols, a powder-flask, and some balls, were found in a velvet
bag, which on its being subsequently seen by Mrs. Marten, was
immediately identified by her as having been in the possession of her
daughter at the time of her quitting her house for the last time. A
sharp-pointed dagger was also found, and this was identified by a person
named Offord, a cutler, as being one which he had ground for the
prisoner within a few days before the murder was committed. The prisoner
immediately on his apprehension was conducted to Polstead, in order that
he might undergo an examination before the coroner; and the most lively
interest was exhibited by the vast crowds of people who had assembled,
to catch a glimpse of him on his being brought into the town. On his
appearance before the coroner, he was dreadfully agitated; and the
circumstances which we have described having been deposed to by various
witnesses, a verdict of "Wilful Murder" was returned against William
Corder.
The unhappy prisoner was immediately conveyed to the county jail to
await his trial; but he had hardly been lodged within its walls, before
a new charge, namely, that of forgery upon the Manningtree Bank, was
laid against him. It appears, however, that through the intervention of
his friends, this case was eventually compromised. The wife of the
prisoner, upon his first apprehension, was under an impression that the
offence imputed to her husband was that of bigamy; but she was soon
informed of the real nature of the allegations made against him. During
his detention in jail, she visited him nearly every day; and she
continued to declare her belief, that the statements which appeared in
the papers with regard to his guilt were untrue; and that he would
eventually be relieved by a jury of his country from the foul calumnies
which were published against him.
Thursday 7th of August in the same year was appointed for the trial of
this malefactor, and the anxiety to witness the proceedings in court, or
to obtain early information in reference to the case, which almost
universally prevailed, was strongly manifested by the assembling of
hundreds of well-dressed persons of both sexes, round the front and back
entrances to the Shire Hall, Bury St. Edmunds, as early as five o'clock
in the morning of that day. The rain fell in torrents, but many persons
braving the weather, remained without shelter until nine o'clock, when
the Lord Chief Baron (Alexander) arrived, to try the prisoner. At the
moment his lordship gained admission to the court, the scene which
presented itself beggars description. The barristers who attended the
circuit, amongst whom were to be observed the counsel for the
prosecution and the defence, in vain struggled against the pressure of
the opposing crowd, and many of them, at the moment they had almost
attained their object, were carried back in an exhausted state to the
extremest verge of the assembled multitude. When his lordship had taken
his seat on the bench, the names of the jury who had been summoned to
try the prisoner were called over; but the crowd was so great, and the
sheriff's force so ineffective, that it was almost impossible to make
way for them into the court. They were after the lapse of nearly an hour
brought over the heads of the crowd into the passage leading into the
hall; some with their coats torn, their shoes off, and nearly fainting.
Nor was the curiosity of the public confined to the court-house.
Hundreds had early assembled at the door of the jail, and along the road
leading thence to the Shire Hall, anxious to catch a glimpse of the
accused. He left the jail at a quarter before nine o'clock, having
previously attired himself with much care in a new suit of black, and
combed his hair over his forehead, which he had previously worn brushed
up in front. Upon his being called from his cell, he made some inquiries
with regard to the number of witnesses who were to be called for the
prosecution, and also with regard to the judges by whom he was to be
tried, and his queries having been answered, he exclaimed, "Well,
whatever may be my fate, I shall meet it with fortitude." He was then
removed in a chaise cart from the jail to the Hall, and although he hung
down his head all the way, he seemed little affected by the shouts and
groans with which he was on all hands assailed. On his being taken to
the felon's room, beneath the building, he remarked to Mr. Orridge, the
governor of the prison, "What a great number of persons! I scarcely ever
saw such a crowd." At a quarter past ten o'clock, the prisoner was
brought into court and placed in the front of the dock. For a few
moments he conversed with his solicitor, but then he looked up to the
bench, and bowed respectfully. On account of the number of challenges
made by the prisoner, it was some time before a jury was empanelled. At
length, however, the prisoner was arraigned upon the indictment
preferred against him. It contained ten counts. In the first, the murder
was alleged to have been committed by the prisoner on the 18th of May
1827, by discharging a pistol, loaded with powder and shot, upon Maria
Marten, and thereby giving her a mortal wound on the left side of the
face; and that by those means, wilfully, feloniously, and of his malice
aforethought, he caused the death of the said Maria Marten. The second
count laid the offence as having been committed by striking the deceased
with a sword upon the left side of the body, between the fifth and sixth
ribs, and thereby giving her a mortal wound, of which she instantly
died; the third count stated that the murder was committed by striking
the deceased with a sword on the left side of the face; the fourth, that
it was done by sticking and stabbing her with a sword on the right side
of the neck; the fifth, that the prisoner fastened a handkerchief around
her neck, and thereby choked her; the sixth, that he killed her by
discharging a gun loaded with powder and shot on the left side of her
face; the seventh, that he pushed and thrust her into a hole made in the
floor of a barn, and, by covering her with large quantities of earth and
gravel, suffocated and choked her; the eighth was only technically
different from the preceding one; the ninth laid the offence to have
been committed by the joint means of sticking the deceased with a sword
on the left side, and fastening a handkerchief round her neck; the tenth
described it as being done by the joint force of all the felonious acts
laid in the whole of the preceding counts--recapitulating the wounds,
stabbing, shooting, strangulation, and smothering, as the cause of the
death of the deceased.
The prisoner having pleaded Not Guilty, in a firm and distinct voice,
the trial commenced. The evidence which was now adduced differed but
slightly in effect from the circumstances which we have detailed. Proof
was, however, given in support of the first and sixth counts of the
indictment, that at the time of the discovery of the body of the
deceased marks were distinctly visible, which showed that she had
received a pistol-shot or a gun-shot wound; and it was also proved, by
the brother of the deceased girl, that the prisoner, at the time of his
quitting the house of old Marten on the day of the murder, carried a
loaded gun. A number of letters were likewise put in, which had been
written by the prisoner to the father of the deceased in reference to
his intended marriage with his daughter.
The prisoner, on being called upon for his defence, read a manuscript
paper in a low and tremulous tone of voice. He declared that he deeply
deplored the death of the unfortunate female in question; and he urged
the jury to dismiss from their minds all that prejudice which must
necessarily have been excited against him, by the foul imputations which
had been cast upon him by the public press. He admitted that the
evidence which had been adduced, was sufficient to create some suspicion
against him; but he trusted that the explanation which he should give of
the circumstances, would at once explain, to their satisfaction, the
real bearings of the case. He then proceeded to say, "No man regrets
more sincerely than I do the death of the unfortunate Maria, the
circumstances attending which I am now about to state; and much have I
to regret, that I for a moment concealed them, but I did so because I
was stupified and horror-struck at the time, and knew not how to act.
You have heard of the nature of my connexion with the unfortunate Maria;
that connexion was contrary to the will of my mother, and to conceal her
situation, I took lodgings for her at Sudbury, where she was confined.
In the usual time she returned to her father's house; in a fortnight
after which the infant died--not, as has been intimated, by violence,
but a natural death. Being anxious to conceal the circumstance from my
friends and neighbours, it was agreed between her father, and mother,
and myself, that Maria and I should bury the child in the fields, and we
took it away for that purpose. After this Maria returned to my house at
Polstead; and by means of a private staircase I took her to my own room,
where she remained concealed for two days. The pistols which have been
spoken of were hanging up in the room loaded. I had before that shown
her the use of them, and on returning to her father's, she, by some
means unknown to me, contrived to get the pistols into her possession.
It is well known that at that period Maria was much depressed in
spirits, and was anxious that I should marry her, although I had reason
to suspect that she was at the time in correspondence with a gentleman
in London by whom she had a child. My friends objected to the match, and
I declined it at the time. But although poor Maria's conduct was not
altogether free from blame. I was much attached to her, and at length
agreed to her wishes; and it was arranged that we should go to Ipswich
and obtain a licence for that purpose. Whether I did or did not say
anything about a warrant having been issued by the parish officers for
her apprehension, I cannot now pretend to say; but if I did, it must
have been because such a report was abroad at the time. It was agreed
that Maria should go in male attire to the Red Barn so often mentioned
in the course of the trial. You have heard from the mother of
unfortunate Maria, that she and I had had words. As we proceeded to the
Barn she was in tears. To that Barn we had often repaired before, and
frequently passed the night there. When we reached the Barn, words
arose, and Maria flew into a passion. I told her that if we were to be
married, and to live together, she must not go on so. Much conversation
ensued, and on changing her dress, she at length told me, that if we
were married we should never be happy together--that I was too proud to
marry her and take her to my mother's, and that she did not regard me. I
was highly irritated, and asked her, if she was to go on this way before
marriage, what was I to expect after? She again upbraided me, and being
in a passion, I told her I would not marry her, and turned from the
Barn, but I had scarcely reached the gate when a report of a pistol
reached my ear. I returned to the Barn, and with horror beheld the
unfortunate girl extended on the floor, apparently dead: I was for a
short time stupified with horror, and knew not what to do. It struck me
to run for a surgeon; and well would it have been for me had I done so.
But I raised the unfortunate girl, in order, if possible, to afford her
some assistance; but I found her altogether lifeless; and, to my horror,
I discovered that the dreadful act had been committed by one of my own
pistols, and that I was the only person in existence who could tell how
the fatal act took place. The sudden alarm which seized me suspended my
faculties, and I was for some time before I could perceive the awful
situation in which I was placed, and the suspicions which must naturally
arise from my having delayed to make the circumstance instantly known.
I, at length, found that concealment was the only means by which I could
rescue myself from the horrid imputation; and I resolved to bury the
body as well as I was able. Having done so, I subsequently accounted for
her absence in the manner described by the witnesses, saying sometimes
one thing to one person, and at other times other things to another. I
may be asked why, if innocent of the crime imputed to me, I felt it
necessary to give those answers? To which I answer, that some persons
are driven to do acts from fear which others do from guilt, which is
precisely the case with me in this instance. It may be asked, too, why I
have not called evidence to prove the facts I have stated; but,
gentlemen, I put it to you whether things do not sometimes take place
which are only known to the parties between whom they happen; and what
direct proof can I give when the only person who knew of these facts is
no more? I can for the same reason give no direct proof of the unhappy
woman's having got possession of my pistols. I say pistols, because I
found the other loaded pistol in the unfortunate Maria's reticule. As to
the stabs and other wounds described by the witnesses, I can only say
that no stab or cut was given by Maria or myself; and I firmly believe
that the surgeons would never have sworn to them, were it not for the
circumstance of a sword having been found in the room in which I was
arrested. If any stab did appear upon the body, it must have been done
with the instrument used in disinterring it."
Having concluded his address by a strong appeal to the jury upon the
probabilities of the case, a number of witnesses were called, who spoke
to the prisoner's good character. The Lord Chief Baron summed up, and a
verdict of "Guilty" was returned. At this point the prisoner was first
observed to raise his handkerchief to his eyes; and during the
subsequent passing of the sentence of death, he seemed to be dreadfully
affected. On his return to the jail, he seemed to recover his spirits;
but the only desire which he expressed was, that he should be permitted
to see his wife. To this request an immediate assent was given, and at
two o'clock on the Saturday afternoon, she was admitted to the prisoner.
The meeting between her and her wretched husband was of a most affecting
character, and it did not terminate until near an hour had elapsed.
During that evening, the prisoner was constantly attended by the
reverend chaplain of the jail; but notwithstanding the religious
exhortations which he received, he exhibited no inclination to make any
confession of his crime. On the following day the prisoner attended
chapel in the customary manner, and during the performance of the
service he appeared deeply affected. On his return to his cell, he threw
himself upon his bed and wept bitterly for a considerable time. In the
course of the afternoon, it was hinted to him that his defence could
scarcely be believed; but in answer he said that, "Confession to God was
all that was necessary, and that confession to man was what he called
popedom or popery, and he never would do it." It was subsequently
suggested to him that he must have had great nerve to dig the grave
while the body lay in his sight, when his reply was, "Nobody knows that
the body lay in the barn and in sight, whilst I dug the hole;" but then,
suddenly checking himself, he exclaimed, "O God! nobody will dig my
grave." In the course of the afternoon, he had a second and last
interview with his wife, and the scene was truly heart-rending. He
expressed the most anxious fears with regard to the manner in which she
would be in future treated by the world; and implored her, should she
ever marry again, to be cautious how she accepted a proposition reaching
her through the equivocal medium of a public advertisement. The parting
scene was most dreadful, and the wretched woman was carried away from
the cell in a state of stupor. After Mrs. Corder had retired, Mr.
Orridge, the worthy governor of the jail, made the strongest efforts to
induce the unhappy prisoner to confess, pointing out to him how greatly
he would add to his crime, should he quit the world still denying his
guilt. Corder then exclaimed, "O, sir, I wish I had made a confidant of
you before, I often wished to have done it, but you know, sir, it was of
no use to employ a legal adviser and then not follow his advice." Mr.
Orridge said that there was no doubt that was very proper, up to the
time at which he was convicted, but that now all earthly considerations
must cease. The wretched prisoner then exclaimed, "I am a guilty man,"
and immediately afterwards made the following confession:--
"Bury Jail, August 10, 1828--Condemned Cell,
"Sunday Evening, Half-past Eleven.
"I acknowledge being guilty of the death of poor Maria Marten, by
shooting her with a pistol. The particulars are as follows:--When
we left her father's house we began quarrelling about the burial of
the child, she apprehending that the place wherein it was deposited
would be found out. The quarrel continued for about three quarters
of an hour upon this and about other subjects. A scuffle ensued,
and during the scuffle, and at the time I think that she had hold
of me, I took the pistol from the side-pocket of my velveteen
jacket and fired. She fell, and died in an instant. I never saw
even a struggle. I was overwhelmed with agitation and dismay--the
body fell near the front doors on the floor of the barn. A vast
quantity of blood issued from the wound, and ran on to the floor
and through the crevices. Having determined to bury the body in
the barn (about two hours after she was dead), I went and borrowed
the spade of Mrs. Stowe; but before I went there, I dragged the
body from the barn into the chaff-house, and locked up the barn. I
returned again to the barn, and began to dig the hole; but the
spade being a bad one, and the earth firm and hard, I was obliged
to go home for a pick-axe and a better spade, with which I dug the
hole, and then buried the body. I think I dragged the body by the
handkerchief that was tied round her neck. It was dark when I
finished covering up the body. I went the next day and washed the
blood from off the barn-floor. I declare to Almighty God I had no
sharp instrument about me, and that no other wound but the one made
by the pistol was inflicted by me. I have been guilty of great
idleness, and at times led a dissolute life, but I hope through the
mercy of God to be forgiven.
"W. CORDER."
"Witness to the signing by the said William Corder,
"JOHN ORRIDGE."
On the next morning the confession was read over to the prisoner, and he
declared that it was quite true; and he further said, in answer to a
question put to him by the under-sheriff, that he thought the ball
entered the right eye.