The trial of Captain Jarvey for the murder of his wife was by far the most important ever seen in Dunedin at that time. It was necessarily the most important conducted by the Judge, Justice Chapman, and those lawyers representing the Crown and the Captain. Reading the full account of the trial in order to present the salient point below, I have an impression of learned men trying their best to see justice done but also, to a certain extent, feeling their way through unfamiliar territory.
There is a decided villain in the following scene, and also a heroine - whose performance under pressure I find admirable for its courage.
All reportage below is from the "Otago Daily Times," unless stated otherwise.
THE TRIAL - DAY 1.
TRIAL OF CAPTAIN JARVEY FOR POISONING HIS WIFE.
SUPREME COURT - CRIMINAL SITTING
Wednesday, March 15th. Before His Honor, Mr Justice Chapman.
The Court sat this morning, by adjournment, for the trial of William Andrew Jarvey, on a charge of murdering his wife by the administration of poison.
A crowd capable of filling the Court at least twice over had gathered in front of the Court House before half-past nine o'clock; and when the doors were opened, there was a great struggle to secure entrance. Never before was anything like so much excited anxiety shown to be present during a criminal trial in Dunedin; and the Court was densely crowded throughout the day.
On the application of Counsel for the prisoner, it was ordered ten days ago that a special jury should be summoned, and the following formed the Jury as sworn: —
John Daniels, Albany street, auctioneer, Foreman.
James Hawkins. Maitland street, storeman.
Samuel Schlesinger. George street, surgeon.
William Henny, Stuart street, carpenter.
George Hawkins, Cambray lane, carpenter.
George Hill, Heriot row, storeman.
Robert Hagen, George street, shoemaker.
Francis W. Falconer, George street, saddler.
Donald Henderson, Great King street, iron monger.
Joseph Haigh, Grange street, bootcloser.
Elisha Stokes, George street, tailor.
Robert Stevenson, King street, storekeeper.
The only challenge was by the Crown Prosecutor; and James Gore, gardener, Maitland street, was ordered to stand down.
The indictment charged, in the usual form, that the prisoner did, on the 26th September 1864, feloniously and of malice aforethought, kill and murder one Catherine Jane Jarvey.
The Crown Prosecutor (Mr Jas. Howarth) appeared for the prosecution, with him being Mr James Prendergast and Mr H. Howorth; and Mr James Smith was counsel for the prisoner.
The Crown Prosecutor in stating the case was very badly heard, but his address was substantially as follows: —
Your Honor and Gentlemen of the Jury; you and all the community are concerned in the inquiry that is about to take place, and you must be fully sensible of the important and serious duties you are called to perform. It of the highest importance not only to the prisoner at the bar but to the country that crimes of murder and violence should be suppressed by the strong arm of the law, for otherwise the interests of society would be altogether endangered. The prisoner at the bar is by profession a Master Mariner; and some time previously to the comisson of the offence with which he is charged, had been resident at the Huon in Tasmania. In the month of April last he, with his wife and children, removed to this city, and they remained here. I believe two of his children died since their arrival in Dunedin, and the 26th of September is the date mentioned in the indictment as the day on which the murder was committed. He had been living with his wife and family here, and for a short time previous had had the command of the steamer Titania, belonging to this port. The offence of murder is in every instance a great crime, but in this instance the person murdered is the wife of the prisoner and the mother of his children; they had lived together several years and at the time of her death she was far advanced in pregnancy. This circumstance, if there was any doubt in the prisoner's guilt, would raise a presumption in his favor; otherwise it is a great aggravation of the crime with which he is charged. Murder consists, according to the legal definition, of homicide with malice aforethought, and it is so charged in this indictment. This malice aforethought is of two kinds; it is either expressed or implied. It is not necessary that I should explain to you what constitutes express malice, because where a person is killed by another the law presumes malice in the person using force. It will not, therefore be necessary to explain further the law on the subject. Before I detail to you the particular circumstances which accompanied the commission of the crime, it will be right to state to you, it was effected by the administration of a deadly poison called strychnine - a preparation of nux vomica. The prisoner managed to evade suspicion at the time the murder is alleged to have been committed, and procured a medical certificate that his wife had died of fits. In consequence of this the Coroner, who had been applied to to hold an inquest, did not require a post mortem examination of the body of the deceased, and she was interred in the state in which she died. She remained from the 26th to the 28th of September to sometime in December in the grave when, in consequence of disclosures made by the prisoner's daughter, who was the only person present at the time of her death, as well as from other enquiries, the body was exhumed, and an inquest held upon it.
Mr Smith requested that before the Crown Prosecutor proceeded in his statement all witnesses, except the medical ones, should be ordered to leave the Court.
The witnesses were ordered out of Court accordingly.
The prosecutor went on to describe the evidence as previously presented to the inquest - the progression of Catherine Jarvey's symptoms on her last days, the earlier buying of poison from Isaacs the druggist with the stated purpose of killing rats, the payment by Jarvey with his own money rather than charging the poison to the account of the ss Titania.
He then followed with an outline of the evidence to be produced by Elizabeth Ann Jarvey - what she heard in the bedroom above the kitchen, including her mother saying "O, Jarvey, you have cooked your Catherine this time." Catherine then, it seems, tried to go downstairs and outside for some fresh air.
The Crown Prosecutor: The prisoner then took up his wife and carried her up stairs. She clutched at the banisters on the staircase, and cried out, "You murderer, let me alone — let me go." He then placed her on the bed where she straightened herself, as would be the case with a person suffering those spasms...
The Prosecutor continued his address by relating the details of the doctors' attendance after Catherine's death.
No inquiry was made till the daughter, who had been on a visit to the Dunstan, returned. I forgot to state that the daughter said "Father, you have not made a mistake in the powder you have given her?" He said, "No, now could I make a mistake it is brandy and water." These are the circumstances. It was impossible to make any mistake between it and the two powders containing a few grains of quinine, and if it was mixed it was the prisoner who mixed it. I do not know what my learned friend will say, but he cannot deny these facts. The declaration of the prisoner was that he could not have made a mistake — it appears to me it would have been next to impossible for a man who knew the use of poison well himself, and who procured two packets of quinine on Sunday night for the purpose of giving to his wife — that he could have given poison by mistake in this case, and if he did not give it by mistake, the deceased received poison from his hands. These circumstances would clearly establish the guilt of the prisoner. The case is one of great seriousness, as I said at first, both to the prisoner and the community, and you have a serious duty to perform, which I am sure you will discharge according to your ability, and if you are convinced of the prisoner's guilt, you will return a verdict in accordance with that conviction, but if there is any reasonable doubt of the prisoner's guilt, be is entitled to the benefit of your verdict. Besides what took place at the end of the month, when he assaulted the wife in the way I have described, you will find that she charged him with the intention of bringing in the woman with a big bonnet and cloak.
Mr Smith objected that the Crown Prosecutor was going rather too far.
The Crown Prosecutor: It shows the motive of the prisoner to the death of his wife.
The Judge: You had perhaps better not allude to that circumstance now.
"...the woman with a big bonnet and cloak." She is mentioned as a source of motive in the case against Jarvey, but who was she? I anticipate my story a little in saying that we will discover the answer before too long.
The Prosecutor then continued to describe evidence to come, as previously presented at the inquest, stressing that the eyewitness testimony of Elizabeth the daughter was too accurate in its detailed description of the symptoms of strychnine poisoning to have been made up by one so young. He then went on to the evidence of Mrs Lumb as to the condition of Catherine's body soon after death, when laid out.
The following repeats much of what came out at the Coronial inquest but is still worth reporting as part of Jarvey's trial - if only as a record of the admirable performance of a young woman who had watched her mother die and stood in Court to accuse her father of the act - doing so in the knowledge that a guilty verdict would make her and her family orphans.
The following repeats much of what came out at the Coronial inquest but is still worth reporting as part of Jarvey's trial - if only as a record of the admirable performance of a young woman who had watched her mother die and stood in Court to accuse her father of the act - doing so in the knowledge that a guilty verdict would make her and her family orphans.
— Elizabeth Ann Jarvey was called as the first witness.
Mr Smith: Do not bring her into Court yet. It might be inconvenient, your Honor, that this girl should hear the argument which I which to urge; because it might enable her insidiously to insinuate what she would learn she was not to be allowed to state directly. The objection I have to make is, that it is not competent for the Crown to elicit from the witness to what motive the wife attributed the supposed act of the prisoner.
The Crown Prosecutor: We are not proposing anything of the kind.
The Judge: That is not admissable, at once.
The Crown Prosecutor: We want to elicit facts, and those facts may speak for themselves.
Mr. Smith: You talked about the "big hat and cloak," and mentioned it as a motive.
The Judge: As a fact, evidence as to that point may be admitted, but not as an opinion.
Mr Smith: We are told that the wife says "you have done this for the big hat and cloak."
The Crown Prosecutor: Meaning, "for another woman."
Mr Smith: That is not evidence — it is just exactly attributing a motive.
The Judge: What she says in the presence of the prisoner is evidence. The case you cited (Johnson's, I believe) was this: It was necessary, or was deemed necessary by counsel, to show the state of health of the deceased person at a particular time. A witness was called, and he said that two or three days before death he had a conversation with the deceased person, who said that he was very well. It was objected that the conversation was not admissable — that it was not in the presence of the prisoner. I should have been disposed, at first sight, to have said that it was not admissable; but the learned judge admitted it. I think it questionable whether the case could have been supported, had it been brought before the full Court. But that is not the question here: conversations in the presence of the prisoner are always admissable.
Mr Prendergast: We intend to give evidence as to the "big hat and cloak" — to connect them with an individual who was afterwards connected with the prisoner.
The Judge: That, perhaps may be difficult.
Elizabeth Ann Jarvey was sworn, and was examined by Mr Prendergast as follows: —
Are you a daughter of the prisoner? — Yes, sir.
Elizabeth Ann Jarvey was sworn, and was examined by Mr Prendergast as follows: —
Are you a daughter of the prisoner? — Yes, sir.
His eldest daughter and eldest child? —Yes.
What family had he in September: how many of you were living together? — Five of us.
Your father, mother, yourself, and two brothers? — Oh! there were seven of us, together: five children, I meant.
What family had he in September: how many of you were living together? — Five of us.
Your father, mother, yourself, and two brothers? — Oh! there were seven of us, together: five children, I meant.
Your father and mother, yourself, and who else? — My brothers Andrew, England, and Frank, and my sister.
What age is your sister? — Three years old.
You all lived together in Caversham, in September? — Yes.
At the time your mother died, who were in the house? — My father and mother, myself, my two brothers, and my sister.
What age is your sister? — Three years old.
You all lived together in Caversham, in September? — Yes.
At the time your mother died, who were in the house? — My father and mother, myself, my two brothers, and my sister.
What age was Andrew? — Thirteen years.
The Judge: Was he the eldest boy? — The eldest boy at home, sir.
Mr Prendergast: What age was England? — About eleven.
And Frank? — About eight.
And Frank? — About eight.
How long had you lived in the house at Caversham? — A little over a month.
Where did the family live previously? — In Cumberland street.
Where did the family live previously? — In Cumberland street.
Do you know a person named Margaret Little? — Yes
Did you ever see her at the house in Cumberland street? — Yes.
Had you some conversation with her there? — Yes.
Had you some conversation with her there? — Yes.
Had your mother any ailment or illness at Caversham, previous to her death? — Yes, on the Monday previously.
The Judge: What was the day of the week on which her death happened?
Mr Prendergast: Monday, the 28th.
What time of the day on the Monday was your mother taken unwell? — It was on the Sunday night, after going to bed.
Mr Prendergast: Monday, the 28th.
What time of the day on the Monday was your mother taken unwell? — It was on the Sunday night, after going to bed.
About what time? — I cannot say.
Were you up with her immediately before she went to bed? — Yes.
Were you up with her immediately before she went to bed? — Yes.
Were you with her when the was first taken unwell? — No.
How long after she was taken ill was it when you were with her? — I was not up with her at all that night.
Were you at home during the whole day of Monday the 26th, on which your mother died? — Yes.
Were you at home during the whole day of Monday the 26th, on which your mother died? — Yes.
How was your mother during the morning and afternoon of that day? — She was very well.
What was she doing about the house? — Washing clothes.
Did you take tea in the evening? —Yes.
And what food?
Mr Smith: We have now arrived at a very important point of the evidence. Let her tell her story without prompting.
Mr Prendergast: Questions must be asked.
The Judge: Questions must be spared, as much as possible.
Mr Prendergast: I must ask questions until we get to the real point, and then an objection can be taken.
Mr. Smith: It will elicit all the facts, if the witness is asked to state what took place from tea time under her observation.
Mr Prendergast: Was your father at home during the whole day? — No.
What time did he come home? — I should think it was about seven o'clock.
Do you remember his coming in? — Yes, I do, sir.
You will now tell us what happened, as nearly as you can, from the time be came in: telling us what happened also, if anything struck you, before tea.
Mr Smith: Excuse me, but you have said quite enough.
The Judge: "Struck you" we have nothing to do with that. Let her tell her own story.
Mr Prendergast: You say that your father came in about seven o'clock in the evening? — Yes, sir.
And what food?
Mr Smith: We have now arrived at a very important point of the evidence. Let her tell her story without prompting.
Mr Prendergast: Questions must be asked.
The Judge: Questions must be spared, as much as possible.
Mr Prendergast: I must ask questions until we get to the real point, and then an objection can be taken.
Mr. Smith: It will elicit all the facts, if the witness is asked to state what took place from tea time under her observation.
Mr Prendergast: Was your father at home during the whole day? — No.
What time did he come home? — I should think it was about seven o'clock.
Do you remember his coming in? — Yes, I do, sir.
You will now tell us what happened, as nearly as you can, from the time be came in: telling us what happened also, if anything struck you, before tea.
Mr Smith: Excuse me, but you have said quite enough.
The Judge: "Struck you" we have nothing to do with that. Let her tell her own story.
Mr Prendergast: You say that your father came in about seven o'clock in the evening? — Yes, sir.
At what time was tea taken? — Between seven and eight.
Mr Smith: Now, do let her tell her story.
The Judge: Now is the time for her to tell her own story. (A pause ) Now, will you tell us what happened — everything from the time of your father coming in: begin at that time. (A pause,) Begin with who was present at tea — who sat down at tea: that will help you as a starting point.
The Witness (after a pause): My father, mother, and myself, three brothers, and sister. My mother made a remark to my father, that it was a good thing she could eat — she thought she was getting stronger. The conversation during tea time was cheerful, and after tea I went upstairs to get my brother Frank to bed. I heard a jingle of glasses being stirred. I then heard my mother say, at near as I can recall, "It is dreadful bitter. It is burning my throat."
The Judge: Before this proceeds any further, I think she should describe the position of the rooms, that the jury may have an opportunity of judging of her means of hearing correctly.
A model of a two-storey house was produced.
Mr Prendergast: Which is the room in which you took tea? — That on the left hand side of the door as you entered the house — the front room there.
Look closely at the model. Does it correctly represent the situations of the rooms, the passages and the staircases? — Yes, it does.
Does the staircase lead from a room or from the passage? — From the passage.
What room is on the right-hand side as you enter the door? — The sitting room.
The Judge: Now is the time for her to tell her own story. (A pause ) Now, will you tell us what happened — everything from the time of your father coming in: begin at that time. (A pause,) Begin with who was present at tea — who sat down at tea: that will help you as a starting point.
The Witness (after a pause): My father, mother, and myself, three brothers, and sister. My mother made a remark to my father, that it was a good thing she could eat — she thought she was getting stronger. The conversation during tea time was cheerful, and after tea I went upstairs to get my brother Frank to bed. I heard a jingle of glasses being stirred. I then heard my mother say, at near as I can recall, "It is dreadful bitter. It is burning my throat."
The Judge: Before this proceeds any further, I think she should describe the position of the rooms, that the jury may have an opportunity of judging of her means of hearing correctly.
A model of a two-storey house was produced.
Mr Prendergast: Which is the room in which you took tea? — That on the left hand side of the door as you entered the house — the front room there.
Look closely at the model. Does it correctly represent the situations of the rooms, the passages and the staircases? — Yes, it does.
Does the staircase lead from a room or from the passage? — From the passage.
What room is on the right-hand side as you enter the door? — The sitting room.
The Judge: They are both sitting rooms, then? — No, sir; the one on the left where we took tea is the kitchen.
Which room was occupied by your mother? — That large one upstairs.
Immediately over the sitting room? — Yes.
How was the middle room, that over the stairs and passage, occupied? — The boys' bedroom.
And how was the other room occupied or used? — By myself.
Which room was occupied by your mother? — That large one upstairs.
Immediately over the sitting room? — Yes.
How was the middle room, that over the stairs and passage, occupied? — The boys' bedroom.
And how was the other room occupied or used? — By myself.
The Judge: Did anybody sleep in the room with you? — My youngest brother.
Is that the one you call Frank? — Yes, he is the youngest brother living.
Then it was to that room you went to put Frank to bed? — Yes, sir.
Mr Prendergast: Was the house of wood or stone? — Wood.
What were the partition made of? — Wood.
Was there any plaster on them? — No, sir.
How were the ceilings constructed? — Of wood.
Was there any plaster on the ceilings of the rooms below? — None.
What were the partition made of? — Wood.
Was there any plaster on them? — No, sir.
How were the ceilings constructed? — Of wood.
Was there any plaster on the ceilings of the rooms below? — None.
You have stated that you heard your mother say the medicine was very bitter. Proceed and tell us what passed.
The Judge: She has not told us where the mother was yet? — In the room on the right hand side, below the kitchen.
Mr Prendergast: Proceed to say what you recollect as taking place. — I cannot recollect it all.
Did you hear your father make any reply? — Yes I heard him say she would have to take it three times a week before it would have any effect.
Did you hear anything else pass? (A pause.)
The Judge: Surely you can relate all that took place, Miss Jarvey, a little more quickly than you are going on.
The witness: My mother said. "If I had known it was such horrible stuff like this, I would not have taken it," or words to that effect. When I came down stairs, my mother was sitting with her elbow leaning on the table.
The Judge: Tell us how long you were actually upstairs, putting Frank to bed. — I cannot; I think not quite ten minutes.
I don't tie you to the exact time, but about how long? — As near as I can recollect, about ten minutes, or under that time.
The Judge: She has not told us where the mother was yet? — In the room on the right hand side, below the kitchen.
Mr Prendergast: Proceed to say what you recollect as taking place. — I cannot recollect it all.
Did you hear your father make any reply? — Yes I heard him say she would have to take it three times a week before it would have any effect.
Did you hear anything else pass? (A pause.)
The Judge: Surely you can relate all that took place, Miss Jarvey, a little more quickly than you are going on.
The witness: My mother said. "If I had known it was such horrible stuff like this, I would not have taken it," or words to that effect. When I came down stairs, my mother was sitting with her elbow leaning on the table.
The Judge: Tell us how long you were actually upstairs, putting Frank to bed. — I cannot; I think not quite ten minutes.
I don't tie you to the exact time, but about how long? — As near as I can recollect, about ten minutes, or under that time.
Now, then: when you came down, what? — My mother was sitting with her elbow on the corner of the table. She looked up, and said, "I feel dreadful giddy. What sort of stuff have you given me to leave me in this state?"
Mr Prendergast: Did he make any reply to that? — He said something about it being the brandy.
Mr Prendergast: Did he make any reply to that? — He said something about it being the brandy.
The Judge: What did he say? — Never mind "about its being" What did he say? What were the exact words, or as nearly at you can recollect them? — Oh! not at that time. I don't recollect his having said anything just then.
Mr Prendergast: Do you know what took place afterwards? If so, proceed to state it. — Afterward, my mother turned, and she laughed rather wildly.
Was she standing or sitting? — Sitting.
At the table, or where? — With her elbow leaning on the corner of the table. She said, "Oh! whatever is the matter with me? I never felt like this before."
Did she say anything about her limbs?
The Judge: Do not lead her at all.
Mr Prendergast: It will be absolutely necessary that I should do so your Honor.
Mr Smith: I do object most absolutely, to any leading matter being put to the witness.
The Judge: I think that there should be no word of suggestion.
Mr. Smith: When the witness is at fault she may be properly helped by a question.
The Judge: When she has got through her story, she may be asked if anything else occurred, and then, sometimes, a word of reminder is allowed.
Mr Prendergast: Then proceed to say, as near as you can, all that passed. (A pause.)
The Judge: Before she goes any farther, I should like to know whether any others were present at this time? — Yes, my two brothers.
Did your father make any remark upon what your mother had said? — Not just at that time.
Go on, then — What next occurred? — She said again, "Oh! dear me: What is the matter with me? My limbs are all getting so stiff, and I fee1 so funny."
Mr Prendergast: What happened then? — She tried to raise herself, but appeared as if she could not, and she clenched hold of the table and chair. Her eyes were beginning to look rather wild. My father then said that she must go up to bed. He took hold of her in his arms, carried her along the passage, and took her up two or three steps a few steps, of the stairs. She struggled out of his arms, and tried to catch hold of the stairs, on each side of them.
The Judge: Do not lead her at all.
Mr Prendergast: It will be absolutely necessary that I should do so your Honor.
Mr Smith: I do object most absolutely, to any leading matter being put to the witness.
The Judge: I think that there should be no word of suggestion.
Mr. Smith: When the witness is at fault she may be properly helped by a question.
The Judge: When she has got through her story, she may be asked if anything else occurred, and then, sometimes, a word of reminder is allowed.
Mr Prendergast: Then proceed to say, as near as you can, all that passed. (A pause.)
The Judge: Before she goes any farther, I should like to know whether any others were present at this time? — Yes, my two brothers.
Did your father make any remark upon what your mother had said? — Not just at that time.
Go on, then — What next occurred? — She said again, "Oh! dear me: What is the matter with me? My limbs are all getting so stiff, and I fee1 so funny."
Mr Prendergast: What happened then? — She tried to raise herself, but appeared as if she could not, and she clenched hold of the table and chair. Her eyes were beginning to look rather wild. My father then said that she must go up to bed. He took hold of her in his arms, carried her along the passage, and took her up two or three steps a few steps, of the stairs. She struggled out of his arms, and tried to catch hold of the stairs, on each side of them.
The Judge: Catch hold of the stairs? — Yes, there is no staircase [balisters] for a few steps up. My mother said, "Oh let me to the air. I shall suffocate." I asked my father if I should open the door, and he said, "No, no!" — that it was the brandy that had taken effect upon mother; a little brandy that he had put into the mixture.
Mr Prendergast: Had your mother at that time, to your knowledge, taken any brandy? — I did not see her take any, but there was a bottle of brandy downstairs.
The Judge: Was that bottle of brandy in the kitchen or in the other room? — In the kitchen.
Mr Prendergast: What was said after this? — She looked at my father with a very wild look, and said, "Oh! da! you have cooked your Catherine this time. I am poisoned." Father carried her upstairs, till he got to the top. She tried to catch hold of the bannisters at the top. She said. "Let me go, murderer, I shall go into fits." He carried her along, and laid her on the bed.
The Judge: In her own room? — Yes, your Honor.
Mr Prendergast: I understand you to say that you were present during the whole time she was on the staircase? — Yes.
Did you say or do anything while she was there? — I asked my father, "Surely, you have not made a mistake in what you have given my mother?" And he said, "Oh! nonsense! it's only the brandy."
The Judge: In her own room? — Yes, your Honor.
Mr Prendergast: I understand you to say that you were present during the whole time she was on the staircase? — Yes.
Did you say or do anything while she was there? — I asked my father, "Surely, you have not made a mistake in what you have given my mother?" And he said, "Oh! nonsense! it's only the brandy."
Were you in the bedroom when he put her on the bed? — Yes, sir.
The Judge: When he put her on the bed, you being present, where were the two boys, Andrew and England? — (after a pause) Downstairs.
Why do you take so long to answer so very simple (a) question as that? — Because my brothers had followed me up afterwards; and then my brother England had gone into his own room.
That was afterwards? — Afterwards, your Honor, and I wanted to think whether it was at the time.
Mr Prendergast: What happened after your father put your mother on the bed? — She went into a fit. Describe what you mean, by going into a fit. — Straightened herself, foamed at the mouth, and her eyes looked very wild.
Did you observe anything else? — She worked her limbs.
Will you describe what you mean by "working her limbs?" — She worked her limbs straight.
Did she keep thrusting her legs up and down?
The Judge: Get her to explain what she means.
Mr Smith: It is a most improper thing in such a case as this, constantly to attempt to put leading questions.
Mr Prendergast: Excuse me, I am doing my best to examine the witness fairly. The objections of my friend would prevent any examination at all.
The Judge (to the witness): Explain what you mean. You say she pushed her limbs out? — Yes, sir.
Mr Prendergast: What happened next? — My father began to undress her, then, while she was in the fit. When he was taking her clothes off, I asked him if he would cut them, or if he would tear them. I cannot recollect rightly which, but he said — "No, they must come off straight." He undressed her, and in a while, she recovered. My mother looked at him, and said — "Oh! William Jarvey, you have killed your Catherine — you have killed your Catherine for another with a big hat and cloak." My father said. "Oh! go to sleep mother, go to sleep." and she answered, "Oh! yes! I will soon be in the long sleep." I tried to soothe my mother, but she said, "It is no use, Lizzie, I am poisoned. Your father has poisoned me for the woman with the big hat and cloak. Oh! William Jarvey! I could ask God to curse you, for your cruelty to me."
Did you observe anything else? — She worked her limbs.
Will you describe what you mean by "working her limbs?" — She worked her limbs straight.
Did she keep thrusting her legs up and down?
The Judge: Get her to explain what she means.
Mr Smith: It is a most improper thing in such a case as this, constantly to attempt to put leading questions.
Mr Prendergast: Excuse me, I am doing my best to examine the witness fairly. The objections of my friend would prevent any examination at all.
The Judge (to the witness): Explain what you mean. You say she pushed her limbs out? — Yes, sir.
Mr Prendergast: What happened next? — My father began to undress her, then, while she was in the fit. When he was taking her clothes off, I asked him if he would cut them, or if he would tear them. I cannot recollect rightly which, but he said — "No, they must come off straight." He undressed her, and in a while, she recovered. My mother looked at him, and said — "Oh! William Jarvey, you have killed your Catherine — you have killed your Catherine for another with a big hat and cloak." My father said. "Oh! go to sleep mother, go to sleep." and she answered, "Oh! yes! I will soon be in the long sleep." I tried to soothe my mother, but she said, "It is no use, Lizzie, I am poisoned. Your father has poisoned me for the woman with the big hat and cloak. Oh! William Jarvey! I could ask God to curse you, for your cruelty to me."
The Judge: In what position was your father, at that time? — He was standing down towards the foot of the bed.
Mr Smith: Your Honor will find it of vast importance to take down these expressions with great accuracy.
The Judge: Oh! I am very accurate.
Mr Smith: My learned friend goes too fast for me.
The Judge: The examination for the prosecution is being very fairly conducted. Counsel are always liable to go a little far with questions; it cannot be avoided. (To the witness) Be good enough to repeat what your mother said to your father.
The Witness: "Oh! Willam Jarvey, I could call God to curse you, for your cruelty. But, no! you are my husband, and the father of my children, and I can say, God forgive you for your cruelty to me this night." or "for the cruelty you have done this night.'' I am not sure which.
The Judge: Do speak out. Surely you can speak louder.
The Witness: I have had a very bad cold, your Honor, and I cannot speak louder.
The Judge: A cold may affect the clearness of your voice a little; but you can speak louder. I am sure. Mr Prendergast: Was anything else said? — Yes, my mother said to me, "My faithful Lizzie, may God bless you, my child."
The Judge: Was that immediately afterward? — I cannot say whether it was immediately afterwards, or not.
How soon after, do you think? — Those words I have just repeated were nearly the last I heard her speak, my mother ceased screaming for a while, and seemed to be very quiet.
Mr Smith: Your Honor will find it of vast importance to take down these expressions with great accuracy.
The Judge: Oh! I am very accurate.
Mr Smith: My learned friend goes too fast for me.
The Judge: The examination for the prosecution is being very fairly conducted. Counsel are always liable to go a little far with questions; it cannot be avoided. (To the witness) Be good enough to repeat what your mother said to your father.
The Witness: "Oh! Willam Jarvey, I could call God to curse you, for your cruelty. But, no! you are my husband, and the father of my children, and I can say, God forgive you for your cruelty to me this night." or "for the cruelty you have done this night.'' I am not sure which.
The Judge: Do speak out. Surely you can speak louder.
The Witness: I have had a very bad cold, your Honor, and I cannot speak louder.
The Judge: A cold may affect the clearness of your voice a little; but you can speak louder. I am sure. Mr Prendergast: Was anything else said? — Yes, my mother said to me, "My faithful Lizzie, may God bless you, my child."
The Judge: Was that immediately afterward? — I cannot say whether it was immediately afterwards, or not.
How soon after, do you think? — Those words I have just repeated were nearly the last I heard her speak, my mother ceased screaming for a while, and seemed to be very quiet.
The Judge: You did not tell us anything about her screaming until you come to the end of it. How was that? — My mother did scream at intervals.
Mr. Prendergast: Did she remain quiet long? — I went down stairs, for my sister was crying; and in a very short time, my sister came down stairs.
The Judge: When she ceased screaming and remained quiet, then you went down stairs? — Yes, sir.
Mr. Prendergast: Did you do anything to help your mother — to alleviate her pain in any way? — Yes, sir, I bathed her lips with vinegar and water but when I touched her, she said, "Oh! don't touch me!" and she seemed to writhe in agony.
Mr. Prendergast: Did she remain quiet long? — I went down stairs, for my sister was crying; and in a very short time, my sister came down stairs.
The Judge: When she ceased screaming and remained quiet, then you went down stairs? — Yes, sir.
Mr. Prendergast: Did you do anything to help your mother — to alleviate her pain in any way? — Yes, sir, I bathed her lips with vinegar and water but when I touched her, she said, "Oh! don't touch me!" and she seemed to writhe in agony.
While you were bathing her lips, did you observe any thing else, except that she writhed about? — Yes, her hands were clenched.
How was she lying? — Straight in bed.
On her side or on her back? — On her back.
Did you observe anything else about your mother at this time? — Nothing else that I can recollect.
What happened after your father came down stairs? — He told me that my mother had fallen into a nice sleep, and that I was not to go upstairs and disturb her; that he was going for a doctor; and that when the doctor came I was to tell him to bleed my mother. My father fold me to send my brother Andrew up to Mrs Lumb to tell her that my mother was very ill — that mother was suddenly taken ill — and that she was to come up. My father then went out.
Did you observe anything else about your mother at this time? — Nothing else that I can recollect.
What happened after your father came down stairs? — He told me that my mother had fallen into a nice sleep, and that I was not to go upstairs and disturb her; that he was going for a doctor; and that when the doctor came I was to tell him to bleed my mother. My father fold me to send my brother Andrew up to Mrs Lumb to tell her that my mother was very ill — that mother was suddenly taken ill — and that she was to come up. My father then went out.
Did your brother go to Mrs Lumb? — Yes, sir. Shortly afterwards, Dr Worrall came in.
The Judge: As nearly as you can estimate, how long was it after tea when your father came down stairs? — It would be more than half an hour.
The Judge: As nearly as you can estimate, how long was it after tea when your father came down stairs? — It would be more than half an hour.
Mr Prendergast: After he came down, how long was it before he went out? — Not many minutes.
How long was it before Dr. Worrall came? — It was not long after father went out; but I cannot, say exactly the time.
How long was it before Dr. Worrall came? — It was not long after father went out; but I cannot, say exactly the time.
When Dr. Worrall came, did you go upstairs? — Yes, I went up with him.
Did you look at your mother? — Yes.
How was she lying? — She was lying straight in bed, and her head was inclined a little to one side.
Did you look at your mother? — Yes.
How was she lying? — She was lying straight in bed, and her head was inclined a little to one side.
Did you remain long upstairs with Dr Worrall? — Until my father came again.
Did you speak with your mother when you went into the room? — I went up beside the bed, and I thought the was asleep; but Dr Worrall went up to her and told me she was dead.
How long after you went upstairs was it before your father returned ? — About half an hour.
Did any other person come in beside your father? — Mrs Lumb.
When did she come? — A short time after Dr Worrall.
Did she come up into your mother's room? — Yes.
Did any person remain with your father? — Dr. Hardy.
Did you speak with your mother when you went into the room? — I went up beside the bed, and I thought the was asleep; but Dr Worrall went up to her and told me she was dead.
How long after you went upstairs was it before your father returned ? — About half an hour.
Did any other person come in beside your father? — Mrs Lumb.
When did she come? — A short time after Dr Worrall.
Did she come up into your mother's room? — Yes.
Did any person remain with your father? — Dr. Hardy.
What happened after that? — Dr Hardy came and looked at my mother and told my father that she was gone. My father asked Dr Hardy to bleed her.
And Dr Hardy bled her? — I did not see whether it was Dr Hardy or my father.
And Dr Hardy bled her? — I did not see whether it was Dr Hardy or my father.
But some person bled her? — Some person did. My father said "See! she bleeds! she bleeds! she will live yet!"
How long did Dr Hardy remain? - Not long, I cannot say how long it was, but it was not very long.
Did Dr Hardy or Dr Worrall leave first? — Dr Hardy.
How long did Dr Worrall remain? — A short time after Dr Hardy went, I heard my father and Dr Worrall begin to speak hastily together in the passage.
What about? — I think it was about his not having bled my mother.
Mr Smith: Did you hear the words that passed? — No. I did not.
How long did Dr Hardy remain? - Not long, I cannot say how long it was, but it was not very long.
Did Dr Hardy or Dr Worrall leave first? — Dr Hardy.
How long did Dr Worrall remain? — A short time after Dr Hardy went, I heard my father and Dr Worrall begin to speak hastily together in the passage.
What about? — I think it was about his not having bled my mother.
Mr Smith: Did you hear the words that passed? — No. I did not.
Mr Smith: Then, be good enough not to state what you think.
Mr Prendergast: Did Dr Worrall and your father go down stairs together, while you remained upstairs? - Yes.
Where was Mrs Lumb? — They had all gone down stairs together.
Mr Prendergast: Did Dr Worrall and your father go down stairs together, while you remained upstairs? - Yes.
Where was Mrs Lumb? — They had all gone down stairs together.
How long did you remain in the room alone? — Not very long; until Mrs Lumb came up again.
You said that some one bled your mother — either Dr Hardy or your father. What was done to your mother, then? Did any one take hold of her? (A pause.)
The Judge: Surely you can answer that question without thinking much about it? — I saw my mother's arm over the bed, but I did not see any thing else.
You said that some one bled your mother — either Dr Hardy or your father. What was done to your mother, then? Did any one take hold of her? (A pause.)
The Judge: Surely you can answer that question without thinking much about it? — I saw my mother's arm over the bed, but I did not see any thing else.
Mr Prendergast: When Mrs Lumb came back into the room, was anything done to your mother? — No, they did not do anything just then. Mrs Lumb said it was too stiff.
Never mind what she said; only tell us what you saw yourself — what was done. Were you present when the body was dressed? — No, I was not.
Never mind what she said; only tell us what you saw yourself — what was done. Were you present when the body was dressed? — No, I was not.
How long did Mrs Lumb remain in the house? — Until very late.
Did any other person come in? — Mr and Mrs Sly.
Did any other person come in? — Mr and Mrs Sly.
What time did they come? — My father went and brought them, after the doctors had gone.
Don't you know how long it was before he went out? — No, I could not say.
You saw your father come home at seven o'clock that evening? — As far as I can think it was about seven o'clock.
Don't you know how long it was before he went out? — No, I could not say.
You saw your father come home at seven o'clock that evening? — As far as I can think it was about seven o'clock.
Do you know whether he brought anything with him? — I saw that he had some powders with him.
Did he say anything about those powders? — He told my mother that he had a quinine powder he was going to give her.
Did you see what be did with the powders when he came in? — He laid them upon the mantelpiece. He had a pot of pomatum, also, which be said he had brought from Mr Luke's, the chemist.
Did you see the powders on the mantelpiece? — Yes.
Did you see what be did with the powders when he came in? — He laid them upon the mantelpiece. He had a pot of pomatum, also, which be said he had brought from Mr Luke's, the chemist.
Did you see the powders on the mantelpiece? — Yes.
How many? — Two, as near as I could see. Either two or three.
Do you know how long those powders remained on the mantlepiece? — No.
Did you ever see them again? — No sir, I saw them no more.
After the doctors had left how long was it before you left your mother's room? — I remained until my mother's body was about to be dressed.
Elizabeth's testimony continues, after a detailed description of her mother's death agonies.
The Witness motioned, rather than asked for a glass of water, which was handed to her. She seated herself, raised the glass to her lips, seemed about to sob, and fell on her knees, fainting. She was assisted out of Court.
The Judge: Has this poor girl no female friend with her!
Mr Prendergast: Yes, your Honor, Mrs Lumb is with her.
The Judge: I will adjourn the Court for half an hour, in order that the jury may obtain refreshments.
The witness had been overcome by a simple fainting fit, and she very soon recovered. When the Court resumed, she again took her place in the box, and was accommodated with a seat.
Mr Prendergast: I think, your Honor, that the prisoner's gaze has some effect upon the witness; and that if it was arranged that he should sit facing your Honor it would be better.
The Judge: I don't know why he should sit at all. It is quite an innovation that a prisoner should sit. Stand up, prisoner, face the Court; and don't cast your eyes at the witness. It is a very painful position she is placed in, and she is entitled to every protection the Court can afford her. I don't know who is responsible for placing that seat in the dock, but it ought to be removed. When a prisoner is ill, an indulgence is granted in this matter, but as a general rule he should stand. I never, in my life, saw a prisoner sit in any Court except this. (To the witness) Do you feel quite recovered, now?
The witness: Yes, I thank your Honor.
Mr Prendergast: You have spoken of an occasion when your mother was unconscious for half an hour. Was that from one fit, or did she have several fits during that time? - No, sir; she continued in the same fit all the time.
How long did you remain an inmate of your father's house after the 26th September, on which your mother died? — I left it on the night after my mother's death.
On the Tuesday night? — Yes.
The Judge: Has this poor girl no female friend with her!
Mr Prendergast: Yes, your Honor, Mrs Lumb is with her.
The Judge: I will adjourn the Court for half an hour, in order that the jury may obtain refreshments.
The witness had been overcome by a simple fainting fit, and she very soon recovered. When the Court resumed, she again took her place in the box, and was accommodated with a seat.
Mr Prendergast: I think, your Honor, that the prisoner's gaze has some effect upon the witness; and that if it was arranged that he should sit facing your Honor it would be better.
The Judge: I don't know why he should sit at all. It is quite an innovation that a prisoner should sit. Stand up, prisoner, face the Court; and don't cast your eyes at the witness. It is a very painful position she is placed in, and she is entitled to every protection the Court can afford her. I don't know who is responsible for placing that seat in the dock, but it ought to be removed. When a prisoner is ill, an indulgence is granted in this matter, but as a general rule he should stand. I never, in my life, saw a prisoner sit in any Court except this. (To the witness) Do you feel quite recovered, now?
The witness: Yes, I thank your Honor.
Mr Prendergast: You have spoken of an occasion when your mother was unconscious for half an hour. Was that from one fit, or did she have several fits during that time? - No, sir; she continued in the same fit all the time.
How long did you remain an inmate of your father's house after the 26th September, on which your mother died? — I left it on the night after my mother's death.
On the Tuesday night? — Yes.
At what time? — It was very late.
What time do you think it was? — I should think it was after midnight.
Where did you go? — Up to Mrs Sly's.
What caused you to leave your father's house, and go to Mrs Sly's? — My father's indecent treatment towards me.
The Judge: You have never asked her any question as to her age. It is important. What is your age? —Eighteen, your Honor.
Mr Prendergast: When was your mother buried? — On the 29th of September.
Mr Prendergast: When was your mother buried? — On the 29th of September.
Did you see her coffin? — Yes.
Was her name apon it? — Yes.
Where was she buried? — In the cemetery, at Caversham.
Did you attend the burial? — No.
Was her name apon it? — Yes.
Where was she buried? — In the cemetery, at Caversham.
Did you attend the burial? — No.
Was your father at the funeral? — Yes.
Did he leave the house and remain away, shortly after the funeral? — He remained away at night.
Did he leave the house and remain away, shortly after the funeral? — He remained away at night.
Were you in the house, or about it, on the 28th, the day of the funeral? — No, sir.
Did you sleep there again? — Yes.
When? — Two or three nights afterwards.
Was your father there on that night? — No.
Was your father there on that night? — No.
Do you know where he was? — No, but he was away.
How long did he remain away? — Until the following day. I came down in the evening to stay with the children, when I knew my father would be away. I did it two evenings.
Do you remember your father coming into the house on the Monday after the funeral, and bringing Miss Little with him? — Oh! he came to the house on the second Sunday after my mother's death.
What time of the day was it when he came with Margaret Little? — About ten o'clock in the morning. He did not bring Margaret Little with him.
How long did he remain away? — Until the following day. I came down in the evening to stay with the children, when I knew my father would be away. I did it two evenings.
Do you remember your father coming into the house on the Monday after the funeral, and bringing Miss Little with him? — Oh! he came to the house on the second Sunday after my mother's death.
What time of the day was it when he came with Margaret Little? — About ten o'clock in the morning. He did not bring Margaret Little with him.
Did you pass the Saturday night in the house? —Yes.
Did your father? — No.
When did Margaret Little come? — About an hour after my father came.
Did your father say anything to you when she came in? — I was upstairs and I saw her come in. When I went downstairs, my father introduced me to Miss Little, and he said she was to be our future housekeeper.
Did your father? — No.
When did Margaret Little come? — About an hour after my father came.
Did your father say anything to you when she came in? — I was upstairs and I saw her come in. When I went downstairs, my father introduced me to Miss Little, and he said she was to be our future housekeeper.
Did you recognise each other? — Yes; after my father had left the room, I said to her —
Mr Smith: You are not to say anything about what took place between you.
Mr Prendergast: Was she the person to whom your father introduced you on that day the same you saw in Cumberland street and had a conversation with? —Yes.
Mr Smith: You are not to say anything about what took place between you.
Mr Prendergast: Was she the person to whom your father introduced you on that day the same you saw in Cumberland street and had a conversation with? —Yes.
Did she pass the day in the house? — Yes.
Did she go to bed there? —Yes.
In which room? — In mother's room.
Had any preparation been made for her sleeping in that room? — Yes. My father and her went upstairs and got the room ready.
Did you sleep in the house that night? — Yes.
In which room? — My own.
In which room did your brothers England and Andrew sleep that night? — In the middle one.
How many beds were there in that room? — One.
Where were the other two children? — In my room.
Did you sleep in the house that night? — Yes.
In which room? — My own.
In which room did your brothers England and Andrew sleep that night? — In the middle one.
How many beds were there in that room? — One.
Where were the other two children? — In my room.
Do you know in which room your father went to bed? — He went into my brothers' room.
Were you up when he went to bed? — Yes.
Did you remain up long? — A short time after he went to bed.
Can you say whether your father spent the night in your brothers' room? — I cannot say where he passed the night. I heard the handle of the door of my brothers' room turn, and footsteps go along the passage to the door of the room in which Miss Little was sleeping. I heard the door at that room open, and then I did not hear any more.
Did you hear any person return from that room? — No, sir.
How long did you remain awake? — I remained awake a good while.
Do you know who rose first in the morning? — My father.
Were you up when he went to bed? — Yes.
Did you remain up long? — A short time after he went to bed.
Can you say whether your father spent the night in your brothers' room? — I cannot say where he passed the night. I heard the handle of the door of my brothers' room turn, and footsteps go along the passage to the door of the room in which Miss Little was sleeping. I heard the door at that room open, and then I did not hear any more.
Did you hear any person return from that room? — No, sir.
How long did you remain awake? — I remained awake a good while.
Do you know who rose first in the morning? — My father.
Did you hear him rise? — Yes.
Did you hear out of which room he came? — Yes, out of my brothers'.
Were your brothers in bed when you rose? — No. They were up first.
Did you remain in your father's house after this day? — Yes, sir, until about the middle of the week.
Did your father remain at home until that time? — No, sir, he went to sea that morning.
Did Miss Little go away on that same Monday morning? — No, she went down to town to fetch her things, but she remained, except that.
Did Miss Little go away on that same Monday morning? — No, she went down to town to fetch her things, but she remained, except that.
Where did you go when you left home on the Thursday? — To Mrs Lumb's.
How long did you remain there? — About a week.
Where did Mrs Lumb live? — At Caversham, about a quarter of a mile from father's.
Did you go to your father's house at all, afterwards? — No, sir, not at all.
Where did you go, from Mrs Lumb's? — To Mrs. Robinson's.
Where is that? — On Bell Hill.
Did you go on a visit? —I went to stay there.
Where is that? — On Bell Hill.
Did you go on a visit? —I went to stay there.
How long did you remain there? — About a week, I think.
Where did you go next? — Up the country, to the Dunstan.
Where did you go next? — Up the country, to the Dunstan.
Did you go to service there? — Yes.
With whom? — Mrs Rich.
How long did you remain at service there? — About six weeks, I think.
Did you then come to town? — I did.
I believe that you then gave some information to the police. — Yes, I did.
Do you remember that Mr Morton, the subinspector of police, and Dr Hocken, the coroner, called upon you very shortly after your mother's death? — Yes.
Did you then come to town? — I did.
I believe that you then gave some information to the police. — Yes, I did.
Do you remember that Mr Morton, the subinspector of police, and Dr Hocken, the coroner, called upon you very shortly after your mother's death? — Yes.
Did you inform them of what you have stated here in Court respecting your mother's death? — No.
On what day did they call? — On the morning of the 28th, the day of the funeral.
Do you remember being present in the Cemetery when a coffin was taken out of the ground? — Yes.
Did you see the coffin or the body? — I saw the body.
Did you recognise it? — No, I could not.
Did you see the shroud in which the body was wrapped? — Yes.
Did you recognise it? — No, I could not.
Did you see the shroud in which the body was wrapped? — Yes.
Do you know whether it was the one in which your mother's body was wrapped? — Yes, it was.
The cross-examination of Elizabeth Jarvey by Mr Smith was mostly to ascertain details of her story - and possibly to find discrepancies - and was notable for one part of the newspaper's report:
At the request of the witness Mr Smith changed his place, he having previously sat in such a position as to render it impossible for the witness to avoid looking at her father, which she averred would prevent her giving evidence.
It must have been a very grueling day for Elizabeth, especially after all that had preceded it. I cannot but be impressed by the mental and moral fortitude she showed on that day and all through the period of her father's trials.
You have mentioned you left the house because your father took indecent liberties with you. Had he ever done anything of the kind before? — Never.
Had his conduct all the years you have known him been such as became a father towards a daughter? —Yes, always.
Had his conduct all the years you have known him been such as became a father towards a daughter? —Yes, always.
You have spoken of a tumbler you saw on your mother's death — it had a red appearance? — Yes. What was the depth of the color — what sort of red was it? — Red like blood.
Did it strike your eye as you looked at the glass on the table — did it catch your eye? — Yes, it caught my eye.
Blood red, and discolored the water as you washed it? — Yes.
About what color was the water; rather a fiery red, I suppose? — Yes. It stained the glass.
Did you examine it more closely that red coloring matter in the tumbler? — No, I did not examine it closely.
Did you ever see that appearance about a tumbler before? — No, I never saw a tumbler like that before.
Did it not strike you then as something very extraordinary? — No, I did not think much about it at the time.
When did you first begin to entertain any suspicion of foul play on the part of your father towards your mother? — Vividly, on the Sunday Miss Little came.
That would be about a fortnight after? — Yes.
Did you examine it more closely that red coloring matter in the tumbler? — No, I did not examine it closely.
Did you ever see that appearance about a tumbler before? — No, I never saw a tumbler like that before.
Did it not strike you then as something very extraordinary? — No, I did not think much about it at the time.
When did you first begin to entertain any suspicion of foul play on the part of your father towards your mother? — Vividly, on the Sunday Miss Little came.
That would be about a fortnight after? — Yes.
You have used the qualifying expression vividly there — do you mean to say you entertained some suspicion prior to that? — You have not answered my question — It was when did you first entertain any suspicion? — When my mother was buried. I thought over what she said.
By the Judge: The first evening when you entertained the slightest suspicion was when? — After my mother's burial.
By Mr Smith: Was that after you had seen Dr Hocken and Inspector Morton? — Yes.
I wish to ascertain nothing but the truth, and I think your memory is now a little at fault. Do you wish to make an alteration in the statement that the first time you entertained any suspicion whatever of the conduct of your father was just after the burial? — I do not mean exactly on the day she was buried, but after she was buried.
Am I to conclude from what you have said that you entertained no suspicion whatever of foul play on the part of your father before the burial? — None.
Do you now represent that the answer you gave to Dr Hocken, when you came to review the circumstances which led you to suspect, was perfectly truthful? — I did not suspect that my father would have done such a deed.
By Mr Smith: Was that after you had seen Dr Hocken and Inspector Morton? — Yes.
I wish to ascertain nothing but the truth, and I think your memory is now a little at fault. Do you wish to make an alteration in the statement that the first time you entertained any suspicion whatever of the conduct of your father was just after the burial? — I do not mean exactly on the day she was buried, but after she was buried.
Am I to conclude from what you have said that you entertained no suspicion whatever of foul play on the part of your father before the burial? — None.
Do you now represent that the answer you gave to Dr Hocken, when you came to review the circumstances which led you to suspect, was perfectly truthful? — I did not suspect that my father would have done such a deed.
Then you told Dr Hocken what you then believed to be true? — Yes.
The Judge: There is no evidence on that point as yet.
The Judge: There is no evidence on that point as yet.
Mr Smith: I recollect my friend stopped short at that point. To the Witness: I will ask you what took place when Dr Hocken came?
The Judge: You are entitled to ask whether she gave any other account, and then, if you like, to read the depositions.
Mr Smith, to the Witness: Have you ever given a different account on oath of the time when you first entertained suspicions?
The Judge: I will remind her of what she said. (to the Witness): You say you had no suspicion of your father before your mother's funeral. Have you on any occasion given a different account from that? —No. I thought over my mother's words, and I came to the conclusion to suspect my father.
The Judge: You heard your mother's words long before the burial — two days before; you now tell us, before the Court, you had no suspicion before the burial; have you given a different account? — Not that I remember.
The Crown Prosecutor: The interview with Dr Hocken was on the morning of the burial.
Mr Smith: I object to these interruptions ——
The Judge: We are not speaking of the Doctor at all. It is merely a question whether she has ever given a different account. She says she is not aware she has, and there the matter rests. Mr Smith is entitled if he pleases to have the depositions read.
Mr Prendergast and the Crown Prosecutor again objected.
Mr Smith: I will put the question again — do you recollect my putting a question before the Coroner, when you first had suspicion of foul play? — Yes.
What answer did you then give? — I think I said I had thought of my mother's words and could not come to a conclusion nor bring it to my mind that my father would have done so.
Mr Prendergast: My friend wishes to show some contradiction between what took place before the Coroner and what she said to day.
The Judge: I think it is a small thing if she did contradict herself on a point of that sort.
By Mr Smith: I asked you to explain how it was that on the 23rd of September you told Dr Hocken and Mr Morton that you had no suspicion when you confessed having entertained suspicion — do you recollect my asking you why you gave an answer which was not according to the fact? — No, I do not recollect.
Mr Smith: I will put the question again — do you recollect my putting a question before the Coroner, when you first had suspicion of foul play? — Yes.
What answer did you then give? — I think I said I had thought of my mother's words and could not come to a conclusion nor bring it to my mind that my father would have done so.
Mr Prendergast: My friend wishes to show some contradiction between what took place before the Coroner and what she said to day.
The Judge: I think it is a small thing if she did contradict herself on a point of that sort.
By Mr Smith: I asked you to explain how it was that on the 23rd of September you told Dr Hocken and Mr Morton that you had no suspicion when you confessed having entertained suspicion — do you recollect my asking you why you gave an answer which was not according to the fact? — No, I do not recollect.
Do you recollect my pressing you to explain why you stated one thing to the Coroner, admitting before him you entertained no suspicion on the 28th and then saying before the Coroner when next examined, that you had entertained suspicion so early as the date of her death. Do you recollect saying before him, on the day after your mother's death, you thought of what you said respecting your mother's words — that you looked upon it as raving? — Yes. I recollect that.
That the day after her death you regarded everything said on the night previously as the words of a raving person? — Yes.
Then how do you feel entitled now to say that the intervals between your mother's fits were intervals of perfect consciousness? — Because my mind was in such a state at the time, I scarcely knew what I was doing. I thought it all over afterwards. I scarcely knew what to think.
How are we to understand you? — What I mean to say...
Then how do you feel entitled now to say that the intervals between your mother's fits were intervals of perfect consciousness? — Because my mind was in such a state at the time, I scarcely knew what I was doing. I thought it all over afterwards. I scarcely knew what to think.
How are we to understand you? — What I mean to say...
Then is by pondering over the occurrences of the 26th, that after the lapse of some time you have come to the conclusion your father murdered your mother — is that it? — Yes.
Did the thought ever cross your mind that it would be well to keep that tumbler? — When?
When you saw it the morning after your mother's death, that red tumbler? — No.
You say on the night of your mother's death your father took liberties with you? — No, not on that night.
Did the thought ever cross your mind that it would be well to keep that tumbler? — When?
When you saw it the morning after your mother's death, that red tumbler? — No.
You say on the night of your mother's death your father took liberties with you? — No, not on that night.
The night after? — Yes.
If he did so, how comes it you still entertained no suspicion he did your mother wrong? — That would not cause me to think he did my mother wrong.
Mr Smith continued along the lines of the differences between the evidence offered to the Coroner and the evidence in her statement to the police, and the reasons why Elizabeth did not tell the truth about her mother's dying words to Dr Hocken. She was not able to say why she concealed the truth during the inquest beyond saying "my mind was in such a state" - in this writer's opinion, that is fair enough, considering her having witnessed the death of her mother. She had a lot to think about in the days following the event. The difference in her testimony between the Coronial inquest and the trial was, of course, seized upon Mr Smith for the defence. He did not need to completely disprove or refute the case of the prosecution - all he needed to do, especially on such a weighty matter as murder, was to induce a "reasonable doubt" in the minds of the jury. In those days, when a guilty verdict in a capital case was equal to tying the noose, juries were very unwilling to pronounce a guilty verdict unless they could be absolutely sure.
Mr Smith went on to ask about the reported quarrel between her parents when living in Cumberland street in August of 1864, eliciting the interesting information that Elizabeth was recovering from scarlet fever at the time - the disease which carried off her younger sister and brother.
He further asked her about her father's saying something about her father giving her the farm on the Huon river in Tasmania, as some reward for her taking on family responsibilities during her mother's illness, and inducement to continue her good conduct. Elizabeth answered that she was not aware of such an agreement but that the like was mentioned by him "under the influence of liquor."
Mr Smith then touched upon "the big hat and cloak."
Do you recollect on the occasion of Miss Little coming to your father's house, your father telling you, in her presence, I believe; at all events telling you if you did not attend to the children, and attend to your domestic duties, instead of absenting yourself, he would sell this property? — No, not in that way in her presence.
Perhaps I am mistaken then. But did he not threaten to do so within a fortnight after your mother's death? — I recollect he told me that as I had got so unbecoming that, his place was a home to me if I chose, but that Miss Little was to take possession, and I was to be subservient to her. I recollect his mentioning something of selling the property in Tasmania, but not in that way.
Perhaps I am mistaken then. But did he not threaten to do so within a fortnight after your mother's death? — I recollect he told me that as I had got so unbecoming that, his place was a home to me if I chose, but that Miss Little was to take possession, and I was to be subservient to her. I recollect his mentioning something of selling the property in Tasmania, but not in that way.
You do recollect his mentioning something of it: in what way did he mention it? — I do not recollect in what way he mentioned it. I know that he did.
Do you remember, before Miss Little's coming to the house, he had advertised for a housekeeper in the newspaper? — Yes.
And Miss Little answered it? — She came. I do not know whether it was in answer to the advertisement.
Miss Little has remained in charge of the young children ever since, has she not? — I suppose she has. Do not you know it? — Yes.
She has been in Captain Jarvey's household and taken care of the children to this day? — Yes.
Why do you say you suppose so — do not you know it? — I have never been to the house — I have seen the boys with her.
Why do you say you suppose so — do not you know it? — I have never been to the house — I have seen the boys with her.
At the time of the inquest she was there, and do you not know the house in George street? — No. I am not sure of the house.
What time did you go to bed that night you say you suspect your father went to Miss Little's room? —About half-past ten o'clock.
What time did you go to bed that night you say you suspect your father went to Miss Little's room? —About half-past ten o'clock.
Were the footsteps you heard those of feet that had shoes on or slippers? — No, they were bare feet. Was your door open? — No, it was shut.
Have you such good hearing that you can hear people walking barefooted? — I could hear the slightest movement.
Were you listening attentively? — No.
Have you such good hearing that you can hear people walking barefooted? — I could hear the slightest movement.
Were you listening attentively? — No.
Had you any suspicion what was going to happen? — No, I had no suspicion.
Then the only reason for believing your father slept in Miss Little's room was that you heard one door open, and heard footsteps of a person with naked feet and then another door open — is that the case? — Yes, my brother told me in the morning.
Never mind what your brother told you in the morning...
Mr Smith continued his questioning along lines as to the financial and other relationship between the Captain and his family while he was away in New Zealand and they were still living in Tasmania. Then he returns to "the big hat and cloak."
Had your father been acquainted with Miss Little before your mother came over here? — Only as I have heard.
Do you believe it? — I believe it now.
Mr Smith continued his questioning along lines as to the financial and other relationship between the Captain and his family while he was away in New Zealand and they were still living in Tasmania. Then he returns to "the big hat and cloak."
Had your father been acquainted with Miss Little before your mother came over here? — Only as I have heard.
Do you believe it? — I believe it now.
Do you or do you not believe that your father knew Miss Little before ever your mother came over here? — I do not wish to swear that I believe it.
The Judge: But we must have no "wish" here. You are to state everything you know; we cannot consult your wishes. If you can answer a question, you must answer it. You must give such an answer as you are competent to give. Can you or can you not answer this question?
Mr Smith: Do you believe that your father knew Miss Little before your mother came down here? —Yes, from what I have heard.
The Judge: But we must have no "wish" here. You are to state everything you know; we cannot consult your wishes. If you can answer a question, you must answer it. You must give such an answer as you are competent to give. Can you or can you not answer this question?
Mr Smith: Do you believe that your father knew Miss Little before your mother came down here? —Yes, from what I have heard.
Further questions put to Elizabeth concerned her movements after she left her father's house and up to the time of the trial.
The next witness was Mrs Agnes Lumb - her evidence was largely what was related by her during the inquest.
Cross examined by Mr Smith: I was nervous on this occasion; and more so than I have yet got over. It was the way in which Capt Jarvey acted to his wife's body, and the way be acted towards me in telling me he would put me out of the room that made me nervous. I did believe that he was sincerely grieving for the loss of his wife at the time. I felt deeply for him. I saw Captain Jarvey strike Dr Worrall, and at the time he told him that if he did not get out of there he would put him out. I cannot say that Jarvey used the words "Go out you drunken beast." The age of the corpse I previously assisted to lay out was 24 years, and the cause of death was gastric fever. I dressed that corpse immediately after death.
By Mr Prendergast: Capt. Jarvey was in tears when I spoke of his crying, and being much put about.
Next on the witness stand was another of the prisoner's children.
Andrew Jarvey, examined by Mr Prendergast: I am a son of the prisoner, and 13 years of age. I have been living in George street for about three months past with a lady named Miss Little. My two brothers and sister are there also. Before we came to George street we lived in a house in Caversham in which my mother died. After my mother died there were living in the house myself, my two brothers, my sister and the lady who is with us now lived there a short time, up to the time we left the house. We then all went to George street.
Under cross examination, Andrew related the details of his mother's death, corroborating the testimony of his older sister.
After Andrew's time on the stand, the Court was adjourned until ten the next morning.
By Mr Prendergast: Capt. Jarvey was in tears when I spoke of his crying, and being much put about.
Next on the witness stand was another of the prisoner's children.
Andrew Jarvey, examined by Mr Prendergast: I am a son of the prisoner, and 13 years of age. I have been living in George street for about three months past with a lady named Miss Little. My two brothers and sister are there also. Before we came to George street we lived in a house in Caversham in which my mother died. After my mother died there were living in the house myself, my two brothers, my sister and the lady who is with us now lived there a short time, up to the time we left the house. We then all went to George street.
Under cross examination, Andrew related the details of his mother's death, corroborating the testimony of his older sister.
After Andrew's time on the stand, the Court was adjourned until ten the next morning.
THE TRIAL - DAY 2
TRIAL OF CAPTAIN JARVEY FOR POISONING HIS WIFE.
SUPREME COURT - CRIMINAL SITTING.
Thursday, March l6th, (Before his Honor, Mr Justice Chapman)
The Court sat at ten o'clock, the place having been crowded some time previously, although there was not so great a pressure for admittance as on the first morning of the trial.
The Court first heard the evidence of Sarah Jane Sly, immediate neighbour of the Jarveys, who had been summoned by the prisoner shortly after the death of his wife, and who described what she saw in the upper bedroom of the Jarvey's house and the preparation, with Mrs Lumb, of Catherine's body. She also talked of Elizabeth coming to her house the night after the death, wearing little more than her nightdress, seeking protection.
I left at half past one in the morning. About three quarters of an hour after I got home Miss Jarvey came to the house. She had nothing on but one article of clothing beside her night dress. She made a complaint to me - she begged me for protection, which I could not refuse, and she remained in the house that night.
Next was James Edward Fitzgerald Coyle, an assistant surveyor, and maker of the model of the house used the previous day. He gave details of the proportions of the rooms of the house, materials used in its construction and experiments made by him and Detective Weale as to the ability to hear sounds between one part of the house and another. A glass of water, stirred with a spoon upstairs, could "distinctly" be heard downstairs.
Continuing with the cross examination of Mrs Sly, she related seeing two used glasses on the table in the kitchen. They were used, she said, because they were not turned upside down. There was nothing of note inside the glasses.
Next Mrs Lumb was recalled by Mr Smith for the defence and asked a few more questions relating to the body, the blood therefrom, and the discoloration thereof.
Nine year old England Jarvey was next called - but he had no evidence to offer as to the death of his mother. He does, however, shed some light on the role of Miss Little.
England Jarvey, examined by the Crown Prosecutor: I am the son of the prisoner, and live in George street. A lady named Margaret Little lives with us. We have lived there about three months; and she has lived there all that time. I was sworn at Caversham at the time of the inquest on my mother, and was examined. I did not refuse to state what I knew. The nature of an oath is, that if tell a lie I shall be punished of God. When mother was alive we lived in Cumberland street, and after that at Caversham. Mother died when I was at home that night. I was not there all the evening. I was downstairs at tea- time, when my father came home.
Then was the turn of William Sly, Sarah Jane's son, who had arrived home before the time of death and had heard some of the last cries of Catherine Jarvey, but not very distinctly, while out for a walk.
Doctor Worrall next described being summoned from his house by the prisoner and having to tell Elizabeth that her mother was dead. He went on to describe the argument over bleeding Catherine and the subsequent opening of a vein by Dr Hardy with a pen knife, after Jarvey threatened to do so himself. After discussing what occurred further downstairs, Mr Smith asked the doctor the following question - which is included verbatim for its interesting form:
Cross-examination continued: At about twenty minutes to ten o'clock you were in bed, I believe? — I was partly undressed.
Is that your usual hour for retiring? — No, not my usual hour; but I was tired with coming from Saddle Hill, and I told my wife I would go to bed. It was she who saw Captain Jarvey.
I am sorry to be bound to ask the question, but my duty is imperative — are you not in the habit of indulging in liquor? — in the habit — I will put that to every man in the world almost.
I put it to you? — I will answer you honestly, and with a good conscience. — I am — (The answer caused some merriment among the spectators, which was immediately checked).
I put it to you? — I will answer you honestly, and with a good conscience. — I am — (The answer caused some merriment among the spectators, which was immediately checked).
That is answered like a man. Were you in liquor on that occasion? — No, I was not. I will tell you with the same honest conscience. So help me, God, I was not.
The Judge: You need not speak in that manner, we shall not believe you a bit more for those expressions.
Cross-examination continued: How do you know you were sober? — I think it would be a very curious thing for a man not to know whether he was sober or drunk. If a man hears a rap at his door and hears a man say, "Go up to my house" — "take my knife, and bleed my wife," hears everything and recollects everything connected with it, he must be sober — he must not be out of his mind.
The Judge: Dr Worral, will you be good enough to keep yourself quiet. We do not want discussions here about sobriety and drunkenness. I dare say there is too much of it in the world.
Cross-examination continued: I should not be so particular, but it is proper for the jury to know in what state of mind you were? — As sober as I am now.
What had you been drinking? — I had two glasses of beer before I went to bed.
When did you arrive from Saddle Hill? — I cannot tell you.
You spoke as to the time when Captain Jarvey came? — I cannot tell you. I told you about the time I went up to his house — that is enough for you to know.
The Judge: We must know everything? — Well, your honor, about a couple of hours.
Cross examination continued.
You think it was about two hours. You had left about two hours? — I will not swear it. I do not recollect it.
When did you start from Saddle Hill? — I cannot tell.
Your recollection is rather cloudy? — I cannot tell
Why did you go to Saddle Hill — was it to visit a patient? — I had been there at Mr McMasters. Professionally? — No, not professionally.
Who is Mr McMasters? — He is a settler. I did not see him.
Did you go into any house, or stay at Mr McMasters's? — I did not.
Did you call at any public-house on the way? — No.
Not one? — No I did not.
Are you positively certain? — I am not sure of it.
What is the distance you travelled between Mr McMaster's and Caversham? — It is about seven miles; seven or eight miles.
How many public-houses are there on the way — How many?
Have you been that way frequently? — If I tell you I could be counting them up for a week; I could tell you of a hundred or two that call themselves public-houses. You should get me to keep a memorandum of them all.
You know of sly-houses? — Plenty of them. I have been in the habit of going into every one of them, and often taking a good drink.
You will have some severe censure from the Court presently, if you do not conduct yourself more like a professional man. You must recollect this is not an occasion for ridicule, and I do not wish to make it one. — I should not like to do so.
You say there are a good many public houses on the road — have you often travelled that road? — A good many times for the last three years.
And you have been in the habit of calling at sly-grog places as well as public houses? — I am obliged to call in to them — I call in when I am paid to go in.
Not otherwise? — I may call into them.
Have you not said you know all the grogshops? — I have been called professionally into all of them.
It is a peculiar branch of your practice? — I do not know what you call a peculiar branch.
And on this particular occasion, when you rode from Saddle Hill to your house, you resisted the temptation of going into every one of those grogshops? — I was not in one that evening.
What time did you arrive at Caversham? — About five o'clock in the afternoon.
Had you dined? — I had — I dined about 2 o'clock.
Was it at dinner you drank two glasses of beer? — No, I took them at night before I went to bed.
What liquor had you at dinner? — A glass of beer.
Only one? — Only one.
You rode to Mr McMaster's and did not find him at home? — I only went to the fence, and was told he was not at home.
Had you anything to drink at the fence? — I might have had a glass of water at the fence. I did not see McMasters.
Do you mean to say you took nothing but a glass of water from the time you went to the time you returned? — Yes I did. I had a glass of ale at the half way house.
The Judge: You told the Court just now you had not? — Yes. I had, your Honor.
Cross examination continued: Do you think that statement justifies your saying that during the whole of the ride you never went into a public-house? — I did enter one.
What did you have there? — A glass of ale.
Only one? — That was all.
Are you sure of it? — I tell you candidly, that was all, a glass of ale.
When Dr Hardy used a knife for the purpose of bleeding Mrs Jarvey, did you perceive whether he closed the wound up? — I do not think Dr Hardy closed the wound up. He had requested Captain Jarvey to get from behind Mrs Jarvey, to allow him to place her on the bed.
The reason for the above line of questioning seems to be an obscure one.
The next witness to be examined was Dr Hardy, who described being "called out of the theatre" and arriving at the Jarvey's house and seeing Catherine, apparently dead. He described the process of bleeding her at Jarvey's request, and went on to discuss possible causes of death other than poison - tetanus, pregnancy fever and "hysteria."
...Hysteria assumes nearly every kind of symptom. I never saw hysteria except in the female sex. It was supposed that the seat of the disease was the uterus in women; that it was a result of functional derangement of the uterus. I think I have not heard of a case of hysteria in males.
Mr Smith: Do you know the work of Dr Ashwell on the diseases of women? — I have not read it, but I know it by reputation.
"On the Diseases Peculiar to Women," by Samuel Ashwell. M.D., member of the Royal College of Physicians, London, and late obstetric Physician and Lecturer to Guy's Hospital: that is a recognised work, is it not? — I believe it to be a work of standard authority.
He commences his chapter on Hysteria thus —
"It is difficult, within reasonable limits, to present a correct and comprehensive exposition of this extraordinary disease. In a work devoted to maladies peculiar to women, hysteria ought to find a place; although I am confident I have seen marked instances of the affection in susceptible, but otherwise healthy males; so that it cannot be regarded as exclusively belonging to the female sex."
Is that according to your experience? — I have never seen a case in a male.
Mr Smith then went on to further discuss "hysteria," presumably with a view to establishing a possible alternative cause for Catherine's death, other than being poisoned by her husband.
Next witness on the stand was Henry Walker Murray, the undertaker who prepared Catherine for burial, followed by James Hackery, the Sexton, who oversaw her burial and later exhumation and identification. He was followed by Detective Francis Weale, who described escorting Jarvey to the exhumation and the wrong grave being dug up - an error corrected by Jarvey himself, still playing the grieving husband. Weale also described visiting the murder scene, stating that the wooden house had no interior insulation, sound travelling easily between rooms.
Next Bernard Isaacs, partner in Luke and Co., druggists, described selling to Jarvey amounts of cough mixture, quinine, opium, corrosive sublimate and strychnine. (Corrosive sublimate is usually known these days as mercury chloride. It is very poisonous to rats and humans.) The strychnine was for killing rats on board the Titania, according to Jarvey. He was followed by James Henton, clerk to Youngman and Co., wholesale merchants on Stafford St, who stated that their books contained an entry referring to strychnine supplied to the druggists on September 22nd.
Next on the stand was Charles Bolton Robinson, part owner of the Titania. He denied any claim on the finances of the ship by Jarvey for any poison bought to deal with rats on board. This was contrary to the usual practice in the partnership when it came to items bought by Jarvey for use on board. He further stated that there had never been a rat problem on board the ship.
This statement was corroborated by two of the crew - engineer Robert Liddell and second steward James Curran. The absence of rats on board the ss Titania was the last piece of evidence given on the second day of the trial, which adjourned at 6pm for 10 the next morning.
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