Gloucester

by Jill Evans

  On Friday, 10 November, William Hawkins was brought before the county magistrates at the Grand Jury Room, in Shire Hall. A large crowd had gathered outside. Mr Pollard was there to prosecute; Mr Taynton defended the prisoner. Mr Morton York appeared on behalf of Partridge’s relatives.

  Sir W.V. Harcourt, Home Secretary in 1882. (Author’s collection)

  Key to the prosecution’s case was the evidence of Henry Dyke, head night attendant at the asylum. Dyke said that on the day Partridge died, a patient named Alfred Radbourn had told him that he saw Hawkins punch Partridge and kneel on him in the bathroom. When Dyke was asked by Mr Taynton why he hadn’t mentioned this at the inquest, he said that he had only replied to specific questions, and he did not recall being asked if he had anything to add.

  Alfred Radbourn, the patient who made the accusation, was put in the witness box. He said there were two attendants in the bathroom who got Partridge down on the floor and stamped on his belly. He said he had witnessed the attack as he walked up and down the corridor, passing the bathroom door.

  Mr Taynton, defending the prisoner, pointed out that no one had implicated Hawkins except the poor lunatic, and Hawkins could not have attacked Partridge in the bathroom because several witnesses saw Partridge walk freely to the day room and later eat his breakfast.

  The magistrates retired to consider the evidence, and on their return announced their intention to commit the prisoner to stand trial at the next assizes on a charge of manslaughter. Hawkins was granted bail.

  Three months later, on 15 February 1883, the trial of William Hawkins began before Judge Baron Huddleston. Hawkins, who was thirty-eight years old and now described as a labourer, was charged with feloniously killing and slaying Walter Partridge at the County Lunatic Asylum, Gloucester, on 12 June 1882. The prisoner pleaded not guilty.

  Mr Lawrence opened the case for the prosecution and started by commenting that there were obvious difficulties in getting evidence in cases of this kind, because it could only be obtained from two sources – the attendants, who were companions of the accused and were, naturally, reluctant to incriminate one of their own, and the patients, whose evidence had to be treated with caution. However, the matter must be sifted to the bottom, because it was of vital importance to the State that helpless inmates of asylums should not be subject to injuries which led to their deaths.

  Baron Huddleston, in The Graphic, 3 July 1875. (Author’s collection)

  Thomas Dancey, the tailor who also acted as a part-time attendant, gave his evidence next. Cross-examined by the counsel for the defence, Dancey said that forty or fifty attendants in total were employed at the asylum. About fifty prisoners were in the yard on Sunday, 11 June, and there were only two attendants on duty. The patients frequently quarrelled and knocked each other down, but he hadn’t seen any patient attacking Partridge on that morning.

  Henry Howard, shoemaker at the asylum, was another part-time attendant who had also been in the airing yard on that Sunday, between half past ten and twelve o’clock. He saw Partridge breaking some glass in the pump-house with slates from the roof. Howard had struggled to get a slate from him and Partridge fell backwards into the shrubbery. Later, Partridge had an altercation with a patient named Wilkins, but he didn’t see Wilkins strike Partridge. Howard had got hold of Partridge to break up the tussle and fell over backwards, and Partridge landed on top of him. He got up and gave Partridge into the custody of Dancey. Howard later saw Partridge at dinner but didn’t notice anything the matter with him.

  William Jennings, formerly an attendant, said he was on duty on Sunday, 11 June, and Partridge was in his care in the afternoon from three o’clock till half past three; he saw him again just before four o’clock. Partridge seemed to be in his usual health. Another attendant named Vick said he saw Partridge on Sunday, at half past three in the afternoon and again a little after four o’clock, and Partridge seemed to be fine. Cross-examined, he said there were generally six attendants in Ward 5, but they were rather short-handed at that time.

  Attendant Henry Dyke said that he saw Partridge on Sunday, 11 June at about a quarter past eleven at night. He was quiet in bed. He checked on him from time to time during the night and each time Partridge was asleep. He saw him at half past five the next morning, awake. He seemed in his usual state of health and said, ‘Good morning’. Dyke went off duty at six and the day attendants, Stephens, Hawkins and Hopkins took over. Dyke was on duty again from two o’clock on Monday, the day Partridge had died. In the airing yard, the patient, Radbourn, said something to him about Partridge’s death. On the following night, he asked Hawkins whether he had a struggle with Partridge and he denied it. Dyke told Hawkins that Radbourn had said he had a struggle with Partridge and got him down and knelt on him, then thumped him in the stomach. Hawkins said this had not happened; Partridge bathed and dressed, and then Hawkins took him to the day room.

  Cross-examined, Dyke said he hadn’t revealed this at the Coroner’s inquest, but only answered the questions he was asked. He didn’t volunteer the statement because the patients were in the habit of making unfounded charges against those who were most kind to them. Radbourn was subject to fits, and when he came round didn’t know what he was doing. Dyke had known Hawkins for two years. He was good-tempered and kind, and the last person in the world to harm anyone under his charge. Re-examined by the prosecution, Dyke said he didn’t know whether Radbourn had had a fit that morning. In answer to a question from the judge, he said Radbourn was subject to delusions. The judge remarked that he thought Radbourn was an unreliable witness.

  Mr Coren, the Coroner, said that he commenced the inquest into the death of Walter Partridge on 14 June 1882. The deposition of Hawkins was read out, in which he denied any knowledge of how the deceased’s injuries were inflicted. Coren revealed that there had been another inquest at the asylum since that on Partridge. A man had died after receiving injuries to his ribs, but no blame was attached to the attendants in that case.

  Frederick Charles Stephens, now a former attendant, once again gave his evidence concerning what had happened in the hours before Partridge died. Cross-examined, Stephens said he was not hard of hearing, and the bathroom door had been open all the time Hawkins and Partridge were in there. He would have heard any struggle. Three other attendants who were also in the dormitory didn’t hear anything either. Hawkins was kind to the patients and Partridge was fond of him.

  Samuel Hopkins, former attendant, said on 11 June that he and Hawkins were the only attendants on duty in Ward 5 in the afternoon. The next morning, he saw Partridge at the breakfast table and there seemed nothing wrong with him. He saw him next sitting on a locker, when he was dying.

  Attendant Albert Camm said he went on duty at six in the morning on 12 June. He relieved Hawkins in the day room at half past eight. Hawkins was away for twenty minutes. Partridge seemed in good health.

  Tom Dent, late head attendant, gave the same evidence as he had at the inquest. Cross-examined, he said he had asked Hawkins if he had struggled with Partridge in the bathroom and Hawkins said he hadn’t.

  Alfred Radbourn, whose evidence was key to the prosecution’s case, was then called. He said he had been an inmate at the asylum for twenty-one years. His father had told him he was nearly thirty-two. He remembered Partridge and on the morning in question he had seen him with Hawkins in the dormitory. Partridge was handled roughly by Hawkins and two or three others. They got hold of him by the neck and nearly choked him. Asked what he thought of the accused, he said, ‘I never knew a better man than Hawkins’. The judge asked him where Partridge was when the attendants got him down and he replied that he was in the bath. They had pulled him from the dormitory into the bathroom. They got him down on the boards, pulled his shirt off and kicked him about, then got him against the bath. Then they got on him again and handled him roughly, kicking and thumping him. Radbourn told the court that Hawkins was the roughest; he didn’t like Hawkins at all.

  Questioned some more, Radbourn nex
t said that Hawkins was ‘the honestest man he ever clapped eyes on’. He was always very kind and he had never fallen out with him. Dent was then put in the witness box beside the witness, who was asked if this was one of the men he saw assaulting Partridge. Radbourn replied that he was. The same exercise was carried out with Camm (‘No’), Hopkins (‘Present but didn’t take part’), Camm again (‘Hit Partridge once or twice’), Stephens (‘Yes’), Dyke (‘No’), and Bick (‘No’).

  Mr Toller then gave his evidence. He believed the injuries to the ribs might have been caused on the Sunday before Partridge died. His (Partridge’s) friends had visited him on Saturday and thought he was dying then. His bones would have been very brittle, because he was a paralytic, and he wouldn’t suffer as much pain as another person.

  The judge then asked the prosecution if there was any point in continuing, as their case depended on the evidence of ‘that unhappy lunatic’. Partridge could have received his injuries on the Sunday, when he was got hold of round the ribs, and he wouldn’t have betrayed any indication of pain. Mr Lawrence said other doctors aside from Mr Toller believed the injuries were inflicted much nearer the time of death, but he would agree to go no further with the prosecution.

  Gloucester Asylum, in Six Engravings of Public Buildings in the City of Gloucester by A.N. Smith. (Gloucestershire Archives, D9795/2/4/5)

  The jury then considered their verdict and found William Hawkins not guilty. The mystery of how Walter Partridge’s ribs were broken remains unsolved.

  On 5 January 1885, a marriage took place at St Mark’s parish church in Worcester Street, Kingsholm. The groom was Edward Hewett, aged thirty-three and a boiler-maker by trade, who had moved to Gloucester from his home town of Loughborough, in Leicestershire. His bride was Sarah Ann Reed, aged thirty-nine, who was a widow. One of the witnesses was Sarah’s brother, William Chamberlain.

  Sarah’s first husband had been John Reed, who worked for the Gloucester company of Fielding and Platt, at the Atlas Iron Works. They had married in 1864 and had four children. In 1878, John was sent by his employers to Rochester in Kent, where he was engaged in helping to build an iron chimney for a company there. In January 1879, it was announced that John had been killed accidentally, when he suffocated in a flue connected with the new chimney. Fielding and Platt paid the funeral expenses, and for a time also paid Sarah Reed a small allowance.

  St Mark’s parish church, Kingsholm. (Author’s collection)

  Some time after she was widowed, Sarah started a relationship with Edward Hewett, and in 1882 they had a child, whose birth was registered with the name Edward Hewett Reed. Another child, Samuel James Hewett, was born late in 1885, but he only lived for a few months.

  Edward and Sarah Hewett lived at 2 Wells Court, off Sherborne Street. Wells Court contained a group of tightly packed houses, which shared a wash house in the yard. The walls of the houses were only one-brick thick, and all the occupants could hear what was happening in each other’s homes. It soon became clear to the Hewetts’ neighbours that the couple had a difficult marriage. Edward Hewett had a nasty temper when he was drunk and Sarah could often be heard crying out, but would tolerate no interference from the neighbours or from the police.

  Although Edward Hewett was a trained boiler-maker, he did not have a permanent job, and often had to leave Gloucester in search of work. In April 1886, Hewett was employed for a week at Sharpness Point. He returned home on Saturday, 17 April, at about three o’clock in the afternoon.

  Mrs Emily Curtis lived next door to the couple and soon after Hewett got home, Sarah came round and showed her a sovereign which her husband had just given her, then went out to get him something for his tea. Soon after she returned, Mrs Curtis heard Sarah cry, ‘Don’t strike me, Ted! What have I done? Don’t be foolish.’ She told him she had got him some bacon and eggs for his tea. Then there was a loud crash and Mrs Curtis heard Hewett swearing at his wife, followed by one or two blows, and Sarah screamed, ‘Murder!’ The disturbance lasted about twenty minutes, then Mrs Curtis heard Sarah say, ‘For God’s sake, Ted, don’t hit me any more, you’ll kill me. You murder-wife!’

  Previously, Sarah had warned her neighbour never to interfere unless she was called. On this occasion she called out several times for help. Mrs Curtis went to the house and was met in the doorway by Hewett, who lifted up his fist in a threatening manner and asked what she wanted. She replied quietly, ‘Hello Teddy, what you come back safe.’ Sarah Hewett cried, ‘I will insist on you coming in to me, Mrs Curtis!’ Hewett walked up to the fireplace and she went in. Sarah was crouching on the ground between two chairs, and said, ‘He’s murdering me.’ Hewett said that she had claimed that she had suffered a miscarriage, and moved towards his wife to kick her, but Mrs Curtis prevented him by putting her arm across his chest and pushing him back. Hewett said something else about a supposed miscarriage and threatened that if his wife was lying, he would kick the baby out of her.

  After everything had finally calmed down, Mrs Curtis left and all was quiet for a while, but at about five o’clock she heard another altercation. She went round again, but this time found the door was locked. Later, she heard Hewett go out, and she took Sarah a cup of tea.

  Between three and four o’clock the following morning, screams of ‘Murder!’ and blows were heard from the Hewett’s bedroom by the neighbours who lived either side of their house; Mrs Curtis on one side, and Thomas Knight on the other. The argument appeared to be about money, because Hewett shouted, ‘I want that six shillings’, and his wife said, ‘I shall not give it to you, Ted, for I haven’t got it.’ He threatened to hit her eye out if she didn’t give him the money. Then a heavy thud was heard, as if someone had fallen on the bedroom floor.

  At half past eight on Sunday morning, Sarah came round to Mrs Curtis and showed her the bruises on her forehead and chin. Later that morning, at about half past eleven, Hewett was heard shouting at his wife, and then he went out.

  At around three in the afternoon, Mrs Curtis heard Hewett demand his dinner, and his wife replied that there was a nice dinner ready for him. He objected to eating such ‘tack’. Soon after, Sarah ran out into the court, screaming, ‘You’re a murder-wife!’ Hewett followed, hurling abuse and threats.

  Thomas Knight was standing outside his door and saw Hewett chase his wife into the wash house, throw her down and kick her. Soon after that, Sarah went to Mrs Curtis’s window, with tears pouring down her cheeks and a death-struck look on her face. She said, ‘Oh, Mrs Curtis, let me die in your house.’ Her neighbour took Sarah back to her own house and made her a cup of tea, but she could only drink a little. She put a linseed poultice on the distraught woman’s stomach, then returned home.

  At about six o’clock that evening, there was a tapping on the wall between the two houses and Mrs Curtis went next door, where she found Sidney Reed, Sarah’s eldest boy, supporting his mother as she sat on a chair. Various other female neighbours were already there, gathered round. Some brandy was fetched from the nearby White Lion Inn and Mrs Curtis and the other women tried to give her some, but she couldn’t take it. Later that evening, Sarah Hewett died.

  On Monday, 19 April 1886, Edward Hewett was brought before the magistrates at Shire Hall, for a preliminary hearing. News of the death of Sarah Ann Hewett had already spread around Gloucester, and the Bearland entrance to the court was crowded with people when the prisoner was brought in.

  Hewett was described by watching reporters as being ‘an unkempt, determined-looking individual’. Deputy Chief Constable Chipp said that Wells Court contained fourteen or fifteen houses, occupied by ‘persons in humble circumstances in life’. He had come across Mrs Hewett before, because about a month previously she had come to the court while her husband was away looking for work, and asked for relief towards the cost of burying her child, who was lying dead at home. The magistrates had ordered him to give her money from the Poor Box.

  Mr Chipp outlined the case briefly, saying that in the previous week, Edward Hewett had
been away working at Sharpness, and on his return home he had given his wife a sovereign but later demanded six shillings back, which she refused to give him. This had led to several outbreaks of violence over Saturday and Sunday, and Mrs Hewett had died on Sunday evening. Hewett was remanded while further investigations were carried out.

  On Monday night, an inquest was opened at the White Lion Inn, on the corner of Sherborne Street and Alvin Street. The members of the jury had to walk through a narrow passage to reach Wells Court, where they viewed Sarah Hewett’s body. It was, said a reporter, ‘a miserable business, the court being dark, the cottage small and squalid, and the crowd outside exhibiting a morbid curiosity into all that was going on.’ After viewing the body, the Coroner and jury made their way to the police court, and began to hear the evidence.

  The first witness was Sarah Hewett’s brother, William Chamberlain, who had been the witness at her wedding. He said he lived near his sister, at 3 Powells Passage, Sweetbriar Street, but he hadn’t seen her for about a fortnight, until he went to the house to identify her body. He didn’t know whether she had lived on good terms with her husband, because he had never visited her house.

  Lucy Howell of 19 Sherborne Street, said that on Saturday night, between seven and eight o’clock, she had seen the Hewetts near the White Lion Inn. She saw Hewett strike his wife in the face, then he had kicked her on the hip and swore at her. He was angry, but Mrs Howell couldn’t say if he had been drinking.

  Detail from Baedeker’s map, 1910, showing the Sherborne Street area. (Author’s collection)