the second day of the trial. Having recapitulated the terms of the
indictment in form, his lordship proceeded to observe, that the
conviction of the prisoner Greenacre of murder or manslaughter would not
necessarily involve the prisoner Gale in the charge, unless the jury
were satisfied that the evidence was sufficient to bear out the
allegation of her having been an accomplice in the transactions
connected with the death of the deceased. He had no doubt the case would
receive the most benevolent and patient attention of the jury. He would
read over the evidence, and leave them to say whether they considered
the prisoner Greenacre to have been the author of the woman's death, and
whether the evidence amounted to proof of murder, or of manslaughter of
an aggravated kind. There were certain undoubted principles of law which
must be kept in mind. One was, that where a person met his death from
the hand of another person, that other person was bound, either by
direct evidence or out of the circumstances of the case as they appeared
in evidence before the jury, to mitigate or reduce the charge to the
lower or minor class of offence. But then some circumstance of
alleviation, mitigation, excuse, or justification must be brought before
the court and jury, or be derivable by fair inference from the
evidence. What they would have to say, therefore, whether, looking at
the whole of the case, they were satisfied that it was left on the broad
ground on which it was started by the counsel for the prosecution--namely,
the actual murder of the deceased individual, or whether there were any
circumstances in the case to induce them to come to a conclusion of a
milder character--namely, that of a felonious manslaughter or accidental
homicide. The learned judge then proceeded to refer to the evidence
which had been adduced, commenting with great minuteness and perspicuity
upon every circumstance from which the guilt or innocence of the
prisoners was argued. He observed that the male prisoner had, by his own
statement, admitted that he was guilty of manslaughter, unless they came
to the conclusion that by an act of carelessness, or of playfulness in
tilting up the chair, the woman had met her death. If, on the other
hand, they were of opinion that the prisoner had occasioned the death of
Hannah Brown, either by premeditated malice or by a malignity of
feeling, caused by conduct of an exasperating nature, thereby giving
rise to a spirit of revenge, then they must find him guilty of the
higher offence. They would observe that the doctors had given it as
their opinion, that the knife had been applied to the neck during life;
they would therefore have to say whether, being possessed of a malignant
spirit, the prisoner had not taken the knife and completed that act
which he had wickedly intended to effect. He would exhort them to weigh
well the circumstances of the case, which was one of extreme difficulty.
Above all things, it behoved them to turn a deaf ear to any
manifestations of clamour which might have been exhibited on the part of
the public; such impressions ought at all times, but more especially
upon an occasion like the present, to be banished from a court of
justice. They would enter upon the performance of their solemn and
painful duty with feelings of patience and calmness, giving to every
portion of the evidence such favourable interpretation as it would
allow, and they would give any benefit which might arise therefrom to
the prisoners; they would look into all the evidence watchfully and
narrowly, and if upon mature reflection they entertained a doubt of the
guilt of the prisoner of the charge of murder, they would let him derive
the full advantage and benefit of such a doubt. If, on the other hand,
the evidence was so clear and satisfactory as that in their minds it
brought the commission of the crime home to the prisoner, they would
doubtless do their duty. With respect to the other prisoner, Sarah Gale,
if they found the male prisoner guilty, either of the crime of murder or
manslaughter, they would say whether by her assistance and aid she had
protected, comforted, and enabled him to screen himself from the justice
of the country. If so, they would find her guilty of the charge for
which she was indicted. If, on the other hand, they thought that she had
not in any way acted as an accessory, and had had no guilty knowledge of
the crime, then they would give her the benefit of such opinion, and
return a verdict of acquittal.
The jury having retired from the box for the purpose of considering
their verdict, after an absence of a quarter of an hour only, returned
into court to deliver their decision upon the case. As they passed to
their box, Greenacre surveyed each of them with a keen, searching, and
eager glance, as if to read in their expressions the fate which awaited
him, and of which the jury were now the arbiters. His countenance,
however, remained unchanged; and he still appeared to preserve the same
degree of firmness and self-possession which distinguished his
demeanour throughout the whole of the trial, and seemed as a man who had
already anticipated his fate, and whose mind was made up to the worst
that could befall him. The prisoner Gale, on the contrary, seemed lost
and bewildered, and almost unconscious of her awful situation: but with
that feeling of attachment for her paramour which women will evince even
under circumstances of misery, shame, and peril, she fixed her look
during this painful interval of suspense and agony upon the countenance
of him to whose fate she appeared to cling, even in this trying moment,
when life or death was about to unite them once more, or sever their
unfortunate connexion for ever.
The clerk of the arraigns having called over the names of the jury,
said, "Gentlemen, how say you; do you find the prisoner at the bar,
James Greenacre, guilty or not guilty of the felony of murder with which
he is charged?"
The foreman of the jury answered, "Guilty."
The question was then asked with regard to the prisoner Gale, and the
foreman of the jury again answered "Guilty."
The countenance of Greenacre remained unaltered. He exhibited no
emotion, but leaned back in his chair and seemed perfectly indifferent
to what might follow. Gale appeared almost unconscious of what was
passing around her.
Upon the announcement of the result of the case outside the Court, the
huzzaings of the crowd, who were impatiently awaiting its termination,
were of the most deafening description; and several well-dressed persons
were observed in elevated positions, waving their hats to the mob, as if
upon the intelligence of some important victory.
The recent alteration in the law with regard to the period of the
execution of murderers, rendered it unnecessary that sentence should be
immediately passed on the prisoners; but on the following day, the 12th
of April, they were brought up to receive the judgment of the Court.
Upon their being called upon in the usual way, to say any thing they had
to urge why sentence should not be pronounced upon them:
Greenacre (in a husky, but firm tone) said--"My Lord, my unhappy
condition in this unfortunate affair has given rise to abundance of
evidence against me, such as might be collected in any pot-house or
gin-shop, owing to the reports spread abroad to my prejudice, upon which
the jurymen have acted. It is contrary to reason and common sense to
suppose that I should have meditated the death of the woman, much less
that I should effect it in the manner described, because of the property
she had. If that had been my object, I could have had it all on the next
morning, when our marriage was to have taken place, and then it would
have been mine. What, then, was my motive for murdering of her? It is--"
The Recorder.--"This is all very proper matter to have been urged by
your counsel at the trial, but should not be pressed upon the Court now.
The only question now is, as to the matter of law. If there are the
slightest grounds for questioning the verdict of the jury, your only
course is to apply to the Secretary of State, the Court having no power
of itself to interfere. Have you anything more to say?"
Greenacre.--"In the next place, my lord, I beg to say that this woman
was utterly ignorant of the affair up to the time of my being taken to
the police-office. She had no knowledge whatever of it, and is as
innocent as any lady or gentleman in this court. This I say, as I am
going into my grave--that she is innocent. I invited her back to the
house after the body was removed, and she never knew anything of it. I
deem it a religious duty to exculpate her from having any concern in
this unfortunate affair. I have no more to say."
The Recorder.--"I shall make the same observation to you, Gale, that I
have just addressed to the other prisoner. If there be any ground for a
further inquiry into your case, you must apply to the Secretary of
State, who will exercise his best discretion upon the subject, under the
advice of the responsible officers of the crown."
The prisoner Gale was then led to a chair at the back of the dock, and
the usual proclamation for silence, preparatory to the passing of the
sentence of death, having been made,--
The Recorder, in a solemn and impressive tone, proceeded to address the
male prisoner in the following words:--"James Greenacre, after a
protracted trial, which endured for two entire days, upon a patient and
impartial investigation of all the circumstances connected with your
case, a jury of your country have found themselves inevitably compelled
to find you guilty of the dreadful offence for which you were indicted.
You have been convicted upon evidence, indeed the most satisfactory, of
the crime of wilful murder. The appalling details of your dreadful case
must be fresh in the recollection of all who now hear my voice, and will
long live in the memory and (may I not add?) in the execration of
mankind; and generations yet to come will shudder at your guilt. You
have, indeed, acquired for yourself a revolting celebrity: an odious
notoriety in the annals of cruelty and crime. The means to which you
were prompted to resort, in order to conceal the mangled and dismembered
portions of your victim, were for a season attended with partial
success. You disposed of her remains, as you thought, in places secure
from discovery, but that course availed you not; for after a short
interval accumulated evidence and irrefragable proofs of your guilty
contrivance became apparent. The amputated limbs and the dissevered body
were united to the bloodless head of the murdered woman, and every
injury by you inflicted after death has afforded the means of proving by
comparison, beyond doubt, that the wound on the eye was inflicted by you
while your victim was in life, and strength, and health. Horrible and
revolting to humanity as was the spectacle presented by the mutilated
trunk and mangled remains, fresh details and discoveries suggested both
the means and manner by which you accomplished the destruction of the
deceased. Both surgical skill and medical science came to the assistance
of common observation; and it was clearly and beyond all doubt
demonstrated that the wounds on the eye and skull were sufficient to
produce death; and it was still further proved, that while the blood was
yet in a fluid state, and circulating through the veins and arteries,
you accomplished your horrible object, by severing the head from the
body. Stupor of the senses and suspended animation were the effect of
your blows; and then you embrued your hands in the gushing life's-blood
of the wretched and unhappy being who was stretched senseless and
unconscious at your feet. The still warm corpse was then barbarously
mutilated and mangled by you, in the hope that the eye of man would not
detect your guilt: but the eye of God was upon you. The natural disgust
and horror which your conduct in this respect excites, compels me to
throw a veil over the frightful and appalling particulars of that
hideous scene. But even that scene, revolting as it is, may be useful in
a moral point of view, for it shows how the hand of Providence points
out the guilty, and proves both the means of detection and the certainty
of punishment. The certain but unseen agency of Providence is exhibited
in the development of the peculiar and complicated circumstances of your
case. The curiosity excited, the alarm produced, and the peculiarity of
each succeeding discovery of the mangled members of the body, and the
seemingly impenetrable mystery in which the circumstances of such a
murder were shrouded, all conspired to awaken suspicion, renew inquiry,
and incite to fresh exertion, until at last the mystery was developed by
the family of the deceased. The embalmed head was identified, the name
of the murdered woman came to light, and sufficient evidence was
produced to point out you as the author of her death, and bring you
before the tribunal of public justice. The circumstances attending the
discovery of this murder lead to the inevitable conclusion that neither
cunning nor ferocity can shelter and secure a murderer; for although the
crime may be hidden for a time--although delays may occur, and the
mystery of the transaction almost preclude the hope of its discovery,
yet the all-seeing eye of God is cognizant of the deed, and man becomes
the agent of its discovery. Indeed, instances of escape from such a
crime are so rare, that the detection is almost as sure as the
punishment is certain. It is plain from the attention with which I
perceive you are listening to what I now say, that I am addressing an
individual not devoid of education, of reasoning faculties, and strength
of mind. The occasion you must indeed be aware is, as regards yourself,
standing where you do, and under the circumstances in which you are
placed, awful and solemn to the last degree, both as regards your fate
in this world and the world to come. I will not draw arguments from my
own feeble resources alone, to endeavour to induce and implore you to
repent before it is too late. Let me, then, before I proceed to pass
upon you the dreadful sentence, entreat you to consider well your past
life, and the chances which await you in the life which is to come. In
making this last appeal, in attempting to revive within your breast the
last remaining sparks of virtue and religion, let me refer you to an
extract which I am about to read to you from an excellent work, called
'The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed.' I have selected the
passage because I think it may be applicable to your present state of
mind, and because the sentiments it conveys are far better than I could
ever hope to address to you from my own resources. The passage is as
follow:--'Indeed,' says the learned author, 'when one has been
recollecting the proper proofs of a future state of rewards and
punishment, nothing, methinks, can give one so sensible an apprehension
of the latter or representation of it to the mind, as observing the many
disregard-checks, admonitions, and warnings which people meet with in
the ways of vice and folly, and extravagance--warnings from their very
nature, from the example of others, from the lesser inconveniences which
they bring upon themselves--from the instruction of wise and virtuous
men; after these had been so long despised, scorned, ridiculed--after
the chief bad consequences, temporal consequences of their follies, have
been delayed for a great while, at length they break in irresistibly
like an armed force--repentance is too late to relieve, and can serve
only to aggravate their distress: the case is become desperate, and
poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, infamy and death--the effects
of their own doings--overwhelm them beyond the possibility of remedy or
escape.' The limits of time and the span of this present life furnish no
obstacles in the way of a repentant sinner. Turn, therefore, I implore
you, with an humble and penitent heart, to the source of all hope and
mercy--the blessed Redeemer of mankind, and employ the brief interval
which is yet left you on this side of eternity in penitence and prayer,
as the only means of obtaining that mercy hereafter which the laws of
God and man deny to you in this world. It now only remains for me to
pass upon you the dreadful sentence of the law; and that sentence is,
that you be taken from hence to the prison from which you came, and from
thence to a place of execution, where you shall be hanged by the neck
until you are dead, and that your body be then buried within the
precincts of the jail; and may the Lord God Almighty take compassion on
your sinful soul."
The learned Recorder towards the end of this address was sensibly
affected; and he could scarcely give utterance to the concluding words.
The prisoner Greenacre remained apparently unmoved, but he listened with
attention, and never once changed his position or relaxed a muscle. He
was then led back, and
Gale was brought forward to receive her sentence.
The Recorder said--"Sarah Gale, I will not aggravate the sufferings
which you must now endure with any observations tending to increase
those sufferings. The unhappy man who a short time ago stood beside you
at that bar has declared that you had no guilty knowledge of the
transaction in which he was involved. I cannot but observe, however,
with regard to that remark, that you had united yourself to him, sharing
his society and bed, and comforting, assisting, and sheltering him,
without being joined to him by any moral or religious tie. As he has
stated that you were ignorant of the dreadful transaction, I think it
right to remind you that the ear-rings found in your pocket had belonged
to the unfortunate woman who had been slaughtered by his hands; that
duplicates of property which belonged to her were also found in your
possession; and that in an adjoining room a box was found, proved to
have been hers, besides other property. I cannot, therefore, as at
present advised, entertain any doubt but that the verdict of the jury in
your case was well and justly grounded. How far your attachment to the
prisoner induced you to continue your intercourse with him,
notwithstanding his possession of the property of the deceased under
circumstances which I should think must at least have excited suspicion
on your mind, it is not for me to judge. Perhaps you considered that
what had been done could not be undone; but whatever feeling actuated
your conduct in connexion with the circumstances of the case, I feel
that I am bound to pass upon you the full sentence directed by the act
of parliament; and if upon further investigation of your case, should
you be disposed to apply to the Secretary of State for a revision of
your sentence, any favourable circumstances should arise, that matter
will be considered and disposed of by the competent authorities. At
present I have only to pronounce upon you the sentence of the law; and
that sentence is, and this Court do adjudge, that you be transported
beyond the sea to such place as His Majesty, with the advice of his
privy council, shall direct and appoint, for the term of your natural
life."
The prisoners were then led away from the bar; but Greenacre, instead of
being conducted to the condemned cell, as is customary, was re-taken to
the apartment which he had previously occupied. The reason for this
alteration in his case, was the necessity which existed for a strict
watch being maintained over him, to prevent a repetition of the attempt
which he had made upon his own life, which there was good reason to
apprehend; and it was felt that the inclemency of the weather would
render such a duty in the lower cells of the prison, a punishment upon
the attendant turnkeys of no ordinary severity. The demeanour of
Greenacre, after his conviction, partook of the same firmness and
determination which he had hitherto maintained; and upon the day after
his condemnation he requested to be supplied with pens, ink, and paper.
His desire was instantly complied with; and from this time he appeared
to be occupied in the fabrication of a new statement, bearing the
impress of truth, in reference to the foul crime for which he had been
tried. He industriously applied himself for several days to this task;
but none of the productions of his pen appeared to afford him
satisfaction, and each was committed to the flames almost immediately
upon its completion. In the course of the day after he received sentence
of death, he was visited by the sheriffs, and to them he made a new
confession of the circumstances of his crime. The general facts which he
now detailed corresponded with the story he had told at the
police-office; but in one most important particular he admitted the
falsehood of that statement. This was with reference to the immediate
cause of the death of Mrs. Brown; and he now stated that the unfortunate
woman, having accompanied him home, as proved in evidence, they had
taken tea together. Mrs. Brown afterwards proceeded to wash up the
tea-things, and while she was so occupied, they continued a conversation
which had before commenced, upon the subject of her property. He became
enraged at the deception which she had practised on him, and seizing a
rolling-pin which lay on the dresser, he menaced her with it, and at
length struck her on the eye. She fell to the ground, and on his going
to her, he was shocked to find that she was insensible, and apparently
dead. He paced the room for some time, in terror at the act which he had
committed, as he conjectured that he should be charged as her murderer,
and began to reflect upon the best means of screening himself from the
consequences of his guilt. A variety of methods presented themselves to
his mind; but at length he hit upon the horrible expedient of dividing
the limbs from the body, and disposing of the dissevered members
separately. He, in consequence, immediately set about cutting off the
head, and having done so, he suffered the whole of the blood to drain
from it. This done, he determined instantly to get rid of this portion
of the frame of his victim, and wrapping it in a silk pocket-handkerchief,
he quitted the house with the horrible burden. On reaching Camberwell he
got into an omnibus, which conveyed him to Gracechurch-street, and
without alarm for the discovery of the contents of his bundle, he
carried it on his knee during the whole journey. When he left the
vehicle he scarcely knew which way to turn, but a Mile-End omnibus
overtaking him as he reached Cornhill, he jumped into it, and was
conveyed to the East end of the town, still carrying his dreadful load
on his lap, in the same manner in which he had supported it before. On
his leaving this second conveyance, he walked on until he reached the
Regent's Canal, and he pursued the course of it, until he came to the
Lock at Stepney. An idea suddenly suggested itself to his mind, that
this was the fitting place to get rid of the head, and without more ado
he "shot it from the handkerchief into the water." He then directly
turned back, and on his way home he called at Mrs. Davis's, in
Bartholomew-close, with whom he entered into conversation, as described
in the evidence. He slept in Carpenter's-buildings alone on that night,
out on the morning he went to Mrs. Gale's lodgings, where he staid until
the next day. At an early hour on the morning of the 26th of December,
he proceeded to his own house, to dispose of the remaining parts of the
body. He began by separating the legs from the trunk, and having done
so, he packed them up in a sack and took them to Cold Harbour-lane (it
being quite daylight at the time), and threw them into the osier bed. He
then once more resumed his dreadful task at his house, in
Carpenter's-buildings, the trunk of the body being now all that he had
to get rid of. The sack and the remnants of a gown which were discovered
with the body, were the only coverings in which he could wrap these
remains, and having securely corded them up, he took the bundle on his
back and went out, undetermined as to the course which he should pursue
to dispose of this remaining evidence of his guilt. A carrier's cart
passed him soon after he reached the public road, and his load being
heavy, he requested permission to place it on the tail-board. This was
acceded to, and he walked behind the cart as far as the Elephant and
Castle, at Newington. The carrier there stopped to procure his dinner,
and left him in the street to take care of the cart; but alarmed lest,
during the prolonged absence of the driver, some accident might occur
which should procure his detection, he called a hackney cab, and having
thrown his bundle under the seat, directed that he should be driven to
the Edgeware-road. On his arrival at the Pine Apple Gate, he quitted the
vehicle, and paid the driver, and the man having turned back, he walked
on towards Kilburn. A favourable opportunity soon presented itself for
disposing of the load, and he deposited it behind the stone in the
position in which it was found two days afterwards. This, also, he
declared took place in the day-time, and he conceived that he underwent
less risk in pursuing his operations thus openly, than in endeavouring
to conceal them under the shades of night. On his return home, he burned
the handkerchief in which he had carried the head, and he also wiped up
the blood from the floor with flannels, which he disposed of by throwing
them down the privy. This confession was not reduced to writing; but the
evident object of the prisoner was to screen Mrs. Gale from the
punishment which awaited her, and to raise a belief of her innocence.
This, however, failed, for the evidence which was adduced with reference
to her implication in the murder, was too clear to admit of any doubt
being entertained; and indeed the general impression was, that the
murder was the result of a pre-conceived determination, both of
Greenacre and his paramour, in order to the accomplishment of which by
the former, the latter only temporarily quitted his house. During the
subsequent imprisonment of Greenacre, he appeared to be little anxious
for the spiritual consolation of the reverend gentleman, who was the
ordinary of the jail. He occasionally employed himself in the perusal of
religious works, but was generally engaged in writing, although the
result of his labours in this respect were, as we have already stated,
usually burned. In the conversations which he had with the official
persons, by whom he was visited, he complained loudly of the prejudices
which had been excited against him by the circulation of a great many
false accounts of circumstances which had occurred in his early life. He
particularly referred to an allegation which had been made, of his
having murdered one of his children, of which Mrs. Gale was the mother;
and he asserted, and Mrs. Gale corroborated the truth of his
declaration, upon her being separately questioned, that the child had
died a natural death; although he admitted that he had disposed of it,
by placing it at the door of a Mr. Dale, in Rupert-street, Haymarket, by
whom it was sent to St. James's Workhouse, where it lived for nine
months.