Chapter III: Problematical Errors (2)

Since writing the foregoing I have had an interesting communication from a lady, who has told me the impressions of one who was present in court during the whole of Madeleine Smith's trial. This gentleman was an advocate, trained and practised in the law, and according to his opinion, unhesitatingly expressed, there could be no shadow of doubt but that Madeleine was l'Angelier's wife, by the law of Scotland. As he has put it, in Scotland two people who ought to be married can generally be joined together, and there was little doubt that the sanction of matrimony was needed for this connection. Both Madeleine and l'Angelier were in the habit of addressing each other as husband and wife. This explains l'Angelier's insistence on the point that "so long as he lived Madeleine should never marry another man."

The verdict of "Not proven" was brought in by the jury on the grounds that it was not established that the two had actually met on the Sunday night preceding l'Angelier's last illness. Nevertheless, it is certain that a pocket-book of l'Angelier's was offered as evidence to the judge, Lord Fullerton, who examined it, but ruled it out because it was not a consecutive diary and the entries had been made in pencil. This book was placed, after the proceedings, in the hands of the legal gentleman above mentioned, and he saw in it an unmistakable entry made by l'Angelier to the effect that he had been in Madeleine's company on the Saturday night.

Full corroboration is given by my informant of the engaging and attractive appearance of Madeleine Smith. She was so excessively pretty and bewitching that, to use his own words, no one but a hard-hearted old married man could have resisted her fascinations. He had no doubt whatever in his own mind of her guilt.

THE WHARTON-KETCHUM CASE.

General W. E. Ketchum, of the United States army, was a man somewhat past the prime of life, but still sound and strong. Mrs. Wharton was the widow of an army man, and was upwards of fifty years of age. The two were intimate friends, and the General, who had amassed a modest competence, had lent various sums to Mrs. Wharton, amounting to some $2,600 (£520). She was not well off, as it was thought, and, just before the events about to be recorded, she was unable to pay an intended visit to Europe from insufficient funds and inability to obtain her letter of credit.

On the 23rd of June, 1871, General Ketchum came from Washington to her house in Baltimore, to see the last of her, believing her about to start on her long journey, and to collect his debt of $2,600. He was in excellent health when he left home, but very soon after arriving at Baltimore he was taken very ill. He rallied for a time, but again relapsed, and on the 28th of June he died. Suspicions were aroused by his sudden decease, and certainly the symptoms of his illness, as reported, were singular and obscure. Whilst he lay there sick unto death, another gentleman residing in the same house was also suddenly prostrated with a strange and unaccountable sickness, and narrowly escaped with his life.

After General Ketchum's death his waistcoat was not to be found, nor the note for $2,600. Mrs. Wharton declared that she had repaid him what she owed him and that he had then given her back the note of hand, which was destroyed there and then. She furthermore claimed from his estate a sum of $4,000 in United States Bonds, which, as she asserted, she had entrusted to the General's safe keeping; yet there was not the slightest mention of any such transaction in his papers--a strange omission, seeing that he was a man of unquestionable integrity, and most scrupulously exact in all matters of account.

Chemical analysis of the stomach of the deceased disclosed the presence of antimonial poison--one of the constituents of tartar emetic. The same poison had been found in a tumbler of milk punch prepared by Mrs. Wharton for General Ketchum, and in a tumbler of beer offered by Mrs. Wharton to the other invalid in her house, Mr. van Ness. Mrs. Wharton had been known to buy tartar emetic during the very week when these singular illnesses occurred among the guests under her roof.

In these suspicious facts people easily found materials for believing in a crime, and a story was soon spread to the effect that Mrs. Wharton had succeeded in poisoning General Ketchum, and had tried to poison Mr. van Ness. Meanwhile she resumed her preparations for her voyage to Europe; but on the very day of departure, the 10th of July, 1871, a warrant for her arrest was issued, and she was taken into custody. In the trial which followed, a great many of the known facts were ruled out as inadmissible. It was argued, and accepted in law, that an accusation of murdering one man could not be supported by evidence of an attempt to kill another, although almost at the same time and by the same means. The charge of poisoning General Ketchum was tried as if there had been no van Ness, as if no other person had been taken ill in Mrs. Wharton's house. But by reason of the predisposition of the public mind, the case was transferred from Baltimore to Annapolis, and there tried.

The first witness was a Mrs. Chubb, who had accompanied General Ketchum to Baltimore, and who testified that he had fallen ill directly he arrived. He was seized with vomiting, giddiness, and general nausea, which lasted for three days. A doctor was then called in, who prescribed medicine, but Mrs. Wharton broke the bottle, whether by accident or intentionally it was impossible to say. Distinct evidence was first afforded of the possession of tartar emetic by Mrs. Wharton. Mrs. Chubb, who went out to get a fresh bottle of medicine for the General, was asked to buy the antimony also, which Mrs. Wharton said she wanted for herself.

The invalid's condition improved a little the next day, and arrangements were made to remove him to his own home. However, he relapsed and became worse than ever. The doctor prescribed medicine, which was to be given him at intervals, but before the time for taking the second dose, Mrs. Wharton appeared with it, or something like it, yet different, and more of it than was prescribed. This she strenuously urged the General to swallow, and succeeded in inducing him to do so. Within fifteen minutes he was racked with terrible pain. He tore with his fingers at his throat, chest, and stomach until he broke the skin, then followed fierce convulsions, at the end of which he died.

Fresh evidence was forthcoming, but not accepted, against Mrs. Wharton. At her suggestion Mrs. van Ness, who had been nursing her brother, had concocted some milk punch. This was made in two portions. One was given to Mr. van Ness, and produced symptoms very similar to those exhibited by the unfortunate General Ketchum; the other had been left in a refrigerator by the General's bedside, and when what was left had been examined by Mrs. van Ness, she declared it had been tampered with; there was a strange muddy deposit at the bottom of the tumbler, and when tasted it was metallic, leaving a curious grating sensation in the mouth. The original constituents had been no more than whisky, milk, and sugar. This testimony was ruled out of order, as belonging to an entirely different case.

The doctor who had attended the General gave evidence as to the symptoms he observed and the remedies applied. At first sight he thought him to be suffering from Asiatic cholera; but later developments were more those of apoplexy, and then again he feared paralysis. He at length had his suspicions aroused, and hinted at poison. The remains of the suspected tumbler were shown him, and his doubts became convictions. With regard to the poisonous action of tartar emetic, the doctor testified that he had noticed all its symptoms in the deceased, although there was a strong similarity between them and those of cholera. Other medical opinion was to the effect that death might have been due to cerebro-spinal meningitis, and some stress was laid upon the absence of antimonial poison in many of the internal organs, although it was contended it had been found in small quantities in the stomach. The same lethal drug had been also detected by analysis in the sediment at the bottom of the tumbler of milk punch.

The verdict of the jury was "Not guilty," but it did not satisfy public opinion, and it was generally felt that Wharton's counsel had by no means established her innocence; none of the incriminating facts had been entirely disproved, nor had the exact truth in regard to the money transactions been elicited. No doubt the accused escaped chiefly owing to the fact that chemical experts, called by her counsel, were not satisfied, beyond the possibility of all reasonable doubt, that antimony had been found in the vital organs of General Ketchum. At the time of this trial another indictment was also pending against Mrs. Wharton, charging her with an attempt to kill Mr. van Ness by administering poison. But some months later the counsel for the State entered a _nolle prosequi_, for what reasons was never generally or distinctly known.

THE STORY OF THE PERRYS.

Truth is stranger than fiction, as we have heard often enough, but in this extraordinary case we shall never know how much is fiction, how much truth. If justice failed, it was misled by a series of the strangest circumstances, some of which have remained a mystery to the present hour. The following details are taken from an account written by a magistrate resident near the scene of the occurrence, and by name Sir Thomas Overbury, the direct descendant of the unfortunate Overbury poisoned in the Tower.

The village of Campden, in Gloucestershire, some five-and-twenty minutes from the cathedral town and county seat, gave its name to the Viscountess Campden, the lady of the manor. Her steward and agent, a certain William Harrison, a man of seventy years, started from Campden on the 16th of August, 1660, to walk over to the neighbouring village of Charringworth, where he wished to collect rents due to his mistress. As he had not returned according to his wont between 8 and 9 p.m., Mrs. Harrison, his wife, despatched a servant named John Perry along the road to meet him and bring him safely home. Neither Perry nor his master returned that night. Next morning Edward Harrison, the son, proceeded to Charringworth to inquire for his father, and on his way met Perry, the servant, coming from that village. Perry told Edward Harrison that Mr. Harrison had not been heard of, and the two together visited another village, Ebrington, and there got some news. A villager stated that the elder Harrison had paid him a passing call the night before, but had made no stay.

They next went to Paxford, a mile thence, where further news met them. They heard that a poor woman had picked up, in the high road between Ebrington and Campden, a hat, a hat-band, and a comb, and seeking her out, they found her "leasing" or gleaning in a field, whereupon she delivered up the articles, and they were at once identified as Mr. Harrison's. The woman was forthwith desired to point out the spot where she had picked them up, and she showed it them on the road "near unto a great furze brake." As the hat-band was bloody and the comb all hacked and cut, it was reasonably concluded that their owner had been murdered.

Mr. Harrison's disappearance so greatly alarmed his wife that she conceived he had met with foul play at the hand of John Perry, the servant whom she had sent to convoy him home. At her instance, therefore, Perry was seized and carried before a justice, who straightway bade him explain why he had stayed absent the whole of the night he had been sent to look for his master. Perry's story was that he had not gone "a land's length" towards Charringworth when it came on so dark he was afraid to go forward, and he returned to the Harrisons' house, meaning to take out his young master's horse. But he did no more than make another false start, and then, without informing his mistress that he was still on the premises, he lay down to rest in the hen-roost, where he continued for an hour or more, "but slept not." About midnight he turned out again, and the moon having now risen he really started for Charringworth. Once more he was stopped; this time by a great mist, in which he lost his way, and finally he took refuge under a hedge, where he slept till daybreak. At last he reached Charringworth, and learning that his master had been there the previous day, followed his movements as he went from house to house receiving monies for rent. There were, however, no signs of the missing man in the village now.

Most of Perry's statements were verified by other witnesses; but the case was black against him, and he was detained by the law until something definite came out concerning Mr. Harrison. A week passed, during which Perry was lodged "sometimes in an inn in Campden, sometimes in the common prison," and all the time he was devising different stories to account for his master's disappearance. One was that a tinker had killed him; another that the servant of a neighbouring squire had robbed and murdered him; and thirdly, that he had been killed in Campden, where his body was hidden in a bean-rick, which was searched, but no body found. On further examination, being pressed to confess, he again insisted that Mr. Harrison had been murdered, "but not by him." Then the justice said if he knew of the murder he must know also the perpetrators, and this John Perry presently allowed by putting the whole blame on his own mother and brother.

He charged these near relatives with having constantly "lain at him" ever since he was in Mr. Harrison's service, urging him to help them with money, reminding him how poor they were, and how easy it was for him to relieve them; he need do no more than give them notice when his master went to receive his rents, and they could then waylay him and rob him. Perry went on to say that he met his brother Richard on the very morning that Mr. Harrison went to Charringworth, and that the brother, hearing of the rent collection, was resolved to have the money; that when he (John Perry) started by his mistress's order to bring Mr. Harrison safely home, he again met his brother Richard, who was lying in wait at a gateway leading from Campden Churchyard into the "Conygree," certain private grounds and gardens of Lady Campden's place. By-and-bye, having entered this "Conygree," which was possible only to those who had the key, he found that his master was being attacked; he was "on the ground, his brother upon him, and his mother standing by." He begged hard that they would not hurt his master, who was crying, "Ah, rogues, you will kill me!" but his brother Richard replied: "Peace, peace! you are a fool," and so strangled him, "which having done, he took a bag of money out of his (Mr. Harrison's) pocket, and threw it into his mother's lap," and then he and his mother consulted what to do with the body.

1. Buildings just inside the "Conygree," where Harrison was said to have been strangled.

2. The "Great Sink" or Mill Pond into which Harrison's body was said to have been thrown.

3. Entrance to the "Conygree" (right of the steps).]

It was decided that they should drop it into the Great Sink, behind certain mills near the garden, and this they did. John Perry told all this most circumstantially, making it agree with his own movements and the various facts that had come to light, describing how he had gone into the hen-roost but could not sleep; how he had taken with him the hat, band, and comb (and cut the latter with his knife), how he had cast them down upon the highway where they were found, giving as his reason that he hoped it might be believed that his master had been robbed and murdered.

The justices, on this confession, sent to search the Sink at the mill, but without success; "the fish pools likewise in Campden were drawn and searched, but nothing could be there found," so that "some were of opinion the body might be hid in the ruins of Campden House, burnt in the late wars, and not unfit for such concealment, where was likewise search made, but all in vain." No time was lost, however, in securing the other Perrys--Joan, the mother, and Richard, both of whom were informed of the accusation brought against them, which "they denied with many imprecations." John, nevertheless, persisted that he had spoken nothing but truth. Suspicion was strengthened against Richard Perry by his being seen to drop a ball of "inkle," which he declared was his wife's "hair lace," but which John, when it was shown to him, said he knew to his sorrow, for it was the string his brother had strangled Mr. Harrison with. Other significant evidence was quoted, as that Richard's nose "fell a-bleeding" when he met his children, being on his way to be admonished by the minister in church. Again, it was remembered that a year before there had been a robbery at Mr. Harrison's, when £140 was stolen from the house at noonday; and John Perry was now asked if he knew aught of the matter. His answer was that his brother Richard was the thief, that he, John Perry, had given him notice that the money was in a room that could be reached by a ladder to the window, and that Richard had stolen it while the master was in church with his whole family "at lecture."

The three Perrys, Joan, John, and Richard, were arraigned at the next assizes on two separate counts: house-breaking and robbery (of £140), and again robbery and the murder of William Harrison. The judge would not allow the second charge to be proceeded with, as no body had been found, but they acknowledged, indeed, pleaded guilty to it, begging for the king's pardon under the recent Act of Oblivion. The charge of murder was again advanced at the next assize before another judge, and allowed; it ended in a verdict of guilty, mainly on the strength of John's confession, although by this time John had gone out of his mind. This was enough to satisfy those who administered the law; and the three, Joan, John, and Richard Perry, were all sentenced to be hanged. The execution was carried out without delay on Broadway Hill, in sight of Campden, where John was also hung in chains.

The strangest part of this affair has yet to be told. William Harrison was not dead; he had been much misused, but had not been murdered, and three years later he reappeared in the flesh. His was a marvellous tale, and its veracity was questioned at the time, but we cannot discredit it entirely.

The account he gave of himself is found in a letter he addressed to Sir Thomas Overbury, whose narrative has been followed throughout.

On the day in question, Thursday, the 16th of August, 1660, he went to Charringworth to collect Lady Campden's rents, but as harvest was in progress the tenants did not come home from the fields till late, and he was kept at Charringworth till nightfall. He received no more than £23, although he had expected a very considerable sum. With this in his pocket he took his road home, and reached at length the Ebrington Furzes, where the tract passed through a narrow passage. Here he was suddenly faced by a man mounted on horseback, and fearing to be ridden down he struck the horse over the nose, whereupon the horseman drew his sword and attacked him, Harrison making what defence he could with his cane. Then came another behind him, who caught him by the collar and dragged him towards the hedge, and after him a third. They did not rob him of his money, but two of them lifted him into the saddle behind the third, and forcing his arms around the rider's middle, fastened the wrists together "with something that had a spring lock to it as I conceived by hearing it give a snap as they put it on." After this they threw a cloak over him, and carried him away, riding some distance till they halted at a stone pit, into which they tumbled him, having now taken all his money. An hour later they bade him come out of the pit, and when he asked what they would do with him they struck him, then mounted him again in the same manner; but before riding away they filled his pockets with a great quantity of money, which incommoded him much in riding, so that by next afternoon, when they again drew rein, he was sorely bruised.

They had come now to a lone house upon a heath, where he was carried upstairs, and they stayed the night. The woman of the house was told that he was much hurt, and was being carried to a surgeon; they laid him on cushions on the floor, and gave him some broth and strong waters. Next day, Saturday, they rode on as before and they lay that night at a place where there were two or three houses, where again he slept on cushions. The next day, Sunday, they reached Deal, and halted by the seaside. One of them kept guard over the prisoner while the two others entered into conference with a man who was awaiting them. This man, whose name he afterwards heard was Renshaw, was afraid that Harrison would die before he could be got on board, but he was put into a boat and carried to a ship, where his wounds were dressed, and in a week's time "he was indifferently recovered." Now the master of the ship came one day to say that they were chased by Turkish pirates, and when all offered to fight in defence of the ship he would not suffer it, but handed them over prisoners to the Turks. They were lodged in a dark hole, and remained there in wretched plight, not knowing how long it was before they landed, nor where they were put on shore, except that it was a great house or prison. Presently they were called up and viewed by persons who came to buy them, and Harrison, having said that he had some skill in physic, was taken by an aged physician who lived near Smyrna, and who had at one time resided in England, at Crowland, in Lincolnshire. Harrison was set to keep the still-room, and was fairly well treated, except on one occasion, when his master, being displeased, felled him to the ground, and would have stabbed him with his stiletto.

After nearly two years' captivity Harrison's master fell sick and died, but before the end he liberated his captive, and bade him shift for himself. Harrison made his way to a seaport about a day's journey distant, where he met two men belonging to a Hamburg ship, and now about to sail for Portugal. He implored them to give him passage, but they replied that they did not dare, nor would they yield for all his importunity. At last a third man from the same ship consented to take him on board provided he would lie down above the keel, and remain hidden till they got to sea. They carried him safely to Lisbon, where they put him on shore, penniless and friendless, as he thought, but he happened fortunately on three Englishmen, one of whom took compassion on him, provided him with lodging and diet, and at last procured him a passage home.

Harrison's story was published in 1676, together with the original narrative of Sir Thomas Overbury, and certain critical remarks were appended. It was said that many people doubted whether Harrison had ever been out of England. Nevertheless, it was certain that he had absented himself from his home and friends for a couple of years, and unless he was carried forcibly away there is no plausible

explanation of his disappearance. It seemed on the face of it highly improbable that a man who bore a good character, who was in comfortable circumstances, the esteemed servant of an honourable family for nearly fifty years, would have run away without the least warning, and apparently for no sort of reason. He was already seventy years of age, and he left behind him a very considerable sum of Lady Campden's money. That he was seized and sequestrated can hardly be doubted, but how or by whom, except so far as he himself describes, was never satisfactorily known. It was thought that his eldest son, hoping to succeed him in the stewardship to Lady Campden, might have compassed his father's removal. This view was supported by the fact that when he did become steward he betrayed his trust. Yet again, to suppose that the elder Harrison would allow the Perrys to suffer death for a crime of which he knew they must be innocent was to accuse him of the deepest turpitude.

The conclusion generally arrived at was that the facts actually did happen very much as they were related, yet the whole story is involved in mystery. The only solution, so far as Perry is concerned, is that he was mad, as the second judge indeed declared. But we cannot account for Harrison's conduct on any similar supposition. If his own story is rejected as too wild and improbable for credence, some other explanation must be found of his disappearance. Unless he was out of the country, or at least beyond all knowledge of events at Campden, it is difficult to understand what motive would have weighed with him when he heard that three persons were to be hanged as his murderers. The only possible conclusion, therefore, is that he was carried away, and kept away by force.