Watson’s Apology

by Beryl Bainbridge

  William Longman. I am a member of the firm of Messrs Longman, publishers, of Paternoster Row. I have known the prisoner about sixteen or seventeen years – I received this letter from the prisoner, at least, my firm did, when I was out of town. It is in Mr Watson’s writing – (This was dated 22nd August, 1871, and was a request to Messrs. Longman to look at a MS, entitled A History of the Papacy in two octavo volumes.) I afterwards received this other letter dated August 24th, 1871 – (This stated that the prisoner had forwarded his History of the Papacy to Messrs Longman) – the manuscript of that is in our possession still – there is no other work of that nature that I am aware of – this (produced) is the manuscript – unquestionably it is a work of very great labour. I have no exact means of knowing within what time that work was accomplished, but I rather think he had been engaged on it for some time – it was completed probably about the time he wrote to me – I entertained the idea of publishing it – we told him we had taken it into consideration. We had not come to any decision as to publishing it – no such decision was conveyed to him, either for or against it; it stood over. We have published three works for him – one was the Life of Porson, the other was the Life of Warburton, and the other, I think, was a book called The Sons of Strength, which were essays on Samson, Solomon and Job. He was undoubtedly a man of considerable learning and attainments – I am not aware of a publication in 1844 – I am only aware of those three – I am acquainted with other publications besides my own – I don’t recollect that Mr Pickering published for him. I don’t know of a poem in seven books on the subject of geology. I am aware that he translated a great number of classical works for Mr Bohn. I believe those books are on sale – they are a kind of school book, Sallust, Xenophon, and so on, Florus, three vols. of Xenophon, Cornelius Nepos, Cicero’s Brutus, Pope’s Iliad, with notes, and other rhetorical works. The Life of Porson was published in 1861 and the Life of Warburton in 1863 – I don’t know that he also published through Mr Tegg. He was a very methodical man, rather one of the old school – I have no other manuscript works of his in my possession – he has not offered me any others recently, or spoken to me about any others. This (produced) is a biographical history of the Papacy from the beginning – I am not aware that he also published the lives of Cobbett and Wilkes for Blackwood, or the life of Sir William Wallace, or a book entitled The Reasoning Power of Animals.

  Re-examined. I think the last work we published for him was Warburton’s Life – that was in 1863. It was tolerably successful – a book showing a great deal of research and learning, and a knowledge of the times of which it speaks. I have not myself studied the manuscript of the Popes. It would not have been a work, supposing we had undertaken to publish it, for which we would have given much money, on the grounds that his other works had only a moderate success.

  Court. Q. Did he realise much by them? A. No. There was only one book on which he realised anything and that was quite a trifle – I think that was the Life of Warburton. I believe his share of the profits was something under 5L. The other books were not successful.

  Dr Edgar Shepherd. I am a member of the Royal College of Physicians, and a fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, and professor of tracheological medicine at King’s College. I am medical superintendent of the Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum, and have been so upwards of ten years – that is one of the lunatic asylums for the county of Middlesex – there are 2050 patients there, male and female. I have seen the prisoner since he has been in custody – I have had four interviews with him in Newgate; I think the first was on 17th November, the second on 20th November, then I saw him again on the 29th, and again on 11th December – from those interviews, and the conversations which took place, I think he was of sound mind.

  Cross-examined. I was requested by the Government to examine him, with Dr Begley, the resident physician at Hanwell – we examined him together, but I saw him on one occasion myself, without Dr Begley. Insanity is a disease of the brain – it is recognised by me as a disease, just as any other disease to which humanity is liable – I hope that the great object of my life is to cure it if I can. I know Dr Blandford, by name, as a gentleman of reputation in the profession. I know Dr Maudsley, by name, and personally also; he is also a gentleman well known in the profession, who has devoted a great deal of his life to studying the disease of insanity, and writing upon it – there is a recognised form of insanity called melancholia – it is a disease that has been brought about by some sudden calamity, such as loss of fortune or status. A person labouring under melancholia is liable to outbursts of madness, during which crimes are committed – in such an outburst of madness, under certain forms of intense melancholia, the reasoning powers are entirely gone. It would very much depend upon the intensity of the disease, whether such a person would be a fit subject for confinement; it is a disease that varies very much in intensity. I am not by any means prepared to say that persons labouring under melancholia are liable, upon provocation, however slight, to an outburst of maniacal fury; I am prepared to deny it as a positive fact – provocation would certainly act with more force on a person who might be liable to an outburst of this kind than upon an ordinary and rational man – a person labouring under melancholia might be liable to an outburst of madness, and after that outburst was over recover comparative sanity; that is very common. As to suicide being an indication of insanity, it would depend very much on the form of suicide – suicide is unquestionably a very common accompaniment of melancholia; homicide also, but less common – such a patient has homicidal and suicidal tendencies. The meaning of melancholia is extreme despondency and depression – repeated attempts at suicide would be an element that I should take into consideration in judging whether a person was insane or not, particularly a certain form of committing suicide. I will explain what I mean by that; the forms of suicide committed by the insane are intensely clever and crafty, and contain, as a rule, no element of clumsiness about them; for instance, no insane person attempting to commit suicide would, in my judgment, tell another that he might be ill at a certain time. Madness by no means signifies an utter want of design – madmen sometimes, both before and after the commission of a great crime, have exhibited considerable craft and cunning – that has been within my observation; in fact, it is very often what we have to guard against in patients we are entrusted with. I don’t think that absence of remorse for a crime is a sign of insanity at all – I am sure it is consistent with sanity; it is also consistent with insanity – it is common in the insane to exhibit an absolute indifference to a great crime, although it is consistent with sanity; it is consistent with both. I would go so far as to say this; I do not think there is any case on record of an impulsive act of insanity involving homicide, in a person who has never given any evidences of insanity before – there are always very striking premonitory symptoms – a person might be liable to such an outburst and afterwards recover sanity – it is a matter of great uncertainty what time ought to be allowed for that, depending very much on individual temperament – some persons would subside rapidly and very quickly, and other persons would take some time to recover. I think a person might commit a homicidal act under the influence of melancholia, and be conversing and conducting himself as a rational person, in all respects, as a sane person would do, within an hour or two after the act – indications before the act are more important than indications after the act – I don’t think that an act of this kind could be committed without very manifest symptoms beforehand, but it might be committed without any manifested symptoms after – the acting and behaving rationally after the act would not form any indication to my mind as to whether it was an act of madness or of sanity. I can conceive of nothing more improbable than that an insane person should give notice that a doctor would be required, shortly before intending to commit a suicidal act – it is entirely at variance with my experience and judgment of insane persons.

  Dr William Chaplin Begley. I am M.D. of Dublin University – I am also a member of the Royal Colleg
e of Physicians, and of the Royal College of Surgeons – I am the medical attendant at the Hanwell Lunatic Sylum – I have seen the prisoner on four occasions – I don’t remember the dates – the first was in November last – I conversed with him freely. On the first and second interviews he was very coherent, but very reticent and reserved, somewhat sullen – on the third he was much less so, and on the fourth he was actually garrulous, and wandering from subject to subject, and there was a degree of mirth about him, which I could not explain. He was talkative, and went on from subject to subject with a degree of levity that I thought inconsistent with his position, and could only be accounted for by some mental infirmity – I can’t recollect the date of that interview – I don’t recollect the dates of any of them – I think the first and second were in November, but I am not positive – I saw him in Newgate – he talked about a great number of subjects connected with classical literature, and about various other matters; but there was an inconsistency and incoherency – I can’t remember an instance, but he went from one subject to another with great rapidity and great volubility – I encouraged him to talk – I wished him to talk – he generally spoke on the subject of classical literature – I don’t think he talked about anything else – he mixed the subjects up together – he began a new subject before he had finished an old one – sometimes he finished his sentences, and sometimes he left off in the middle of them.

  John Rowland Gibson. I have been surgeon of the gaol of Newgate sixteen or seventeen years – I am a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons and a Licentiate of the Apothecaries’ Company. The prisoner was brought there on 14th November last, I have had him under my charge, medically from that time to this – from the time I first saw him I have paid particular attention to the state of his mind in order that I might be able to form a judgment of it – I have seen him every day, and sometimes more frequently, and conversed with him at every interview – I am not quite sure whether Dr Begley did not see him for a short time alone; but I was present at all the interviews spoken of, and heard the conversations – I was present long enough to hear a good deal of the conversation that passed between the prisoner and Dr Begley, and I also conversed with him on that occasion. I have always found him rational; and I should say remarkably self-possessed – I did not at any time observe any incoherence or inconsistency in the answers that he gave – sometimes he was more depressed than at others, and I may say at times his conversation has almost approached cheerfulness – there was nothing in my treatment of him, or in the medicines that I gave him, that would have accounted for a greater amount of cheerfulness at one time than another. I did not medically treat him, except an occasional dose of opening medicine. I did not give him tonics – I saw nothing between one visit and another to indicate anything like insanity; I think the depression from which he suffered was nothing more than one would expect from a person placed in the position in which he was – it was a sort of depression which from my experience I have found in the case of sane persons as well as insane.

  The following Witnesses were called for the Defence:

  William Joseph Fraser. I am solicitor to Mr Watson – I produce a certificate of his baptism showing that he was baptised in Crayford Church, in the year 1804 – I produce also his marriage certificate, at St Mark’s Church, Dublin, on 2nd January, 1845 to Annie Armstrong. I also produce a gold medal – he was gold medallist of the Dublin University. I also produce certain letters written by Mr Watson to Miss Armstrong before the marriage – the first letter is December 4th, 1844 – there are five or six. I found the letters in Mrs Watson’s bedroom, tied up in her satin gown. I was a pupil of Mr Watson, at Stockwell School. I am his attorney, but have not been so in any business before this – I occasionally wrote to him, but only visited them at their house this time last year, when the school was under consideration – he did not consult me professionally. I was a proprietor of the school. I also found some letters written to Mrs Watson, at different periods during their married life – I have not gone through them all.

  Revd Collett Baugh. I am a clergyman of the Church of England, and rector of Chelsfield, Kent. In September last my curate was absent temporarily, and I communicated with Mr Ingram, who keeps a register of clergymen to do temporary duty, to get a clergyman to take my curate’s place – I was not in very good health then, and not equal to duty at all; certainly not to doing whole duty, two full services – Mr Watson was recommended to me and I communicated with him, and received a letter from him, stating that he would come and take part of my duty. The letter is lost – it was in September, 1871, just one month before the murder was committed – I had not known or heard of Mr Watson before – the duty I intended him to perform was very likely none at all; it would depend upon how I felt on Sunday morning. He came down on Sunday morning, and I had not then made up my mind what part of the service I would ask him to take – he was rather nervous when I met him in the vestry, but nothing to remark particularly. Nothing occurred in church which would throw any light upon his state of mind – he said one prayer in the morning-service which is not generally used; a prayer for all sorts of conditions of men, but it was a mistake, which might occur to any man – he was very weak and weary, and listless – I should have asked him to take part in the Communion service, but his voice was so dreary and listless that I preferred taking the whole myself, though it was Sacrament Sunday. At the conclusion of the service I walked home with him – my house is about a quarter of a mile from the church – I soon found that he was labouring from extreme depression of mind or body, or both, which showed itself in a gloomy silence, which continued throughout the day, and a total want of interest in any subject whatever, or in anything which was going on about him. I endeavoured during lunch to interest him in conversation; both I and my wife endeavoured to try to get him to talk, but I do not think he originated a single observation himself, and in answer to any remark or question of mine he replied wholly in monosyllables. “Yes,” or “No.” This depression of manner continued during the day – it seemed to me that it was an effort for him to speak – there was no afternoon service; an evening service at 6.30, I think, or 6 o’clock – in consequence of what I observed in Mr Watson, his depression and listlessness, I told him, after luncheon, that I thought that I was quite as equal as he was to preaching, and therefore I would take the sermon myself, and I did. He read the prayers – I observed the same weakness of voice. After the evening service he returned to the rectory and dined with us – there was no change at all in his manner during dinner – I endeavoured to try and enliven him by asking him to drink a glass or two more wine than I might generally do; it did not have the least effect upon him, his manner still continued dejected and depressed to the greatest degree – he seemed very feeble, and in consequence I ordered my carriage to take him down to the station, which, on Sunday, I should not generally have done – it is a mile from my house to the station – I did not remark any access of cheerfulness at any time during the day – the only time at which I saw the slightest approach to a smile was when I paid him his fee. I thought he was worn out with old age. That was the opinion that I formed at that time, and I expressed it at that time.

  Ann Wall Baugh. I am the wife of the last witness – I remember Mr Watson coming to my husband’s rectory on 3rd September – he read prayers at the morning service – his manner was exceedingly feeble and weak. I was at luncheon with him and my husband – his manner was perfectly quiet; he scarcely uttered anything during the whole time – I tried in every way to induce him to talk, quite without success – I remember taking him upstairs before lunch – I remarked that he was exceedingly feeble, so feeble that I feared he would fall. He scarcely raised his head during luncheon, and his eyes were closed nearly the whole day also. There was a discussion about how the evening service should be conducted. I said I was sorry there was no one who could read the lessons for him, and he said that I could read them myself – he seemed in earnest. He had great difficulty in getting to chur
ch in the evening. His conduct and manner made a considerable impression on my mind, and my husband and I communicated with Mr Fraser, Mr Watson’s solicitor.

  Cross-examined. He seemed completely crushed, simply unable to take interest in anything – he was very reserved, generally answering “Yes,” and “No,” to every question that was asked – I tried all I could to get him to converse – I was going to have a school treat, and I endeavoured to interest him in that school treat, not to get him to come, but to get him to talk. I asked if he had any experience of treats for children, and he replied that he had run a Grammar School, not a Kindergarten.

  Henry Rogers. I reside at Beulah House, South Lambeth Road – I am manager of the Beulah Laundry – I have resided there twenty years. For about ten years of that time, Mr Watson lived next door but one to me. I knew Mr Watson by general reputation and by sight – he bore the reputation of being a very great classical scholar, and being a very excellent master of the Proprietary Grammar School, and a great writer. His ordinary walk and manner were quite familiar to me for twenty years. On Saturday, 7th October, last year, I was walking in the Clapham Road and I met Mr Watson. He was walking towards Kennington, and I was walking the contrary way – it was about 11 o’clock, or a little before. When I was about seven or eight yards distant from him, I happened to cast my eye upon him, and his eyes were staring. They appeared fixed on me in a very staring manner. I kept my eye on him, and when he came within about a yard or a yard and a half from me, he threw his umbrella under his arm, and made a noise in his throat, like groaning, or growling rather; a deep heavy noise in his throat; at the same time he made a gesture with his arm three or four times. He must have known me, because we lived very near together for years. He was not in the habit of speaking when he met me – I never spoke to him but once, about seventeen years ago. After he passed me – I turned round – he repeated his growling. I remarked his manner for the first time about three months before the unfortunate occurrence; that would be about July – I met him twice in one day in Stockwell, and his eyes were then cast upwards, and his lips were moving rapidly; of course I thought at the time that he was making devout ejaculations to the Almighty. When I saw him cast his eyes upwards and his lips moving I naturally thought that, but a week or two after that I met him again, and his eyes were very different, they stared so, stared very much. He had a vacant look in his eyes. I met him eight or nine times before the murder, in about as many weeks, and I noticed the same staring manner in his eyes – I had never seen anything like that before 1871. I have seen him about every week for twenty years. When I saw those expressions which I have spoken of, I thought that his mind was going.