Last evening Dr. Lankester, the coroner for Central Middlesex, delivered a lecture on this subject to a large audience, in the Free-mason’s-hall, over which Mr. Charles Reed, M.P., presided, in the absence of the Earl of Shaftesbury, who was detained in the House of Lords by the debate on the Life Peerages Bill. Dr. Lankester, after a scriptural and historical retrospect, proceeded to deal with the question as it addressed itself to the Christian world, and bore upon the wellbeing of society in modern times. Infanticide he defined to be the destruction or murder of a new-born child, but under another name the law also took cognizance of the destruction of a child before-it was born. He proposed to deal with the former of those crimes, and to draw upon his own experience for his facts, thus following in the footsteps of the late Mr. Wakley, who, like himself, had been wrongly accused of exaggeration while treating of this matter. In 1863 there were 55 cases of infanticide in his district; in 1864, 56; in 1865, 61; in 1866, 75; in 1867, 53; and in 1868, 52; but in too many instances he had discovered a tendency to return open verdicts of found dead or “still-born.” According to the judicial statistics of the Home-office the ratio of the crime for the whole of England was 1 in 170,000 of the population, and in Middlesex 1 in 20,000, while for the central and western districts it was 1 in 12,000, confirming him in the opinion that the crime was mainly confined to the domestic servants of the West-end. Indeed, on an average of five years the return for Clerkenwell was 1 in 30,000; St. Pancras, 1 in 20,000; Marylebone, 1 in 10,000; Paddington, 1 in 8,000; and Islington, 1 in 6,000. Having shown that the mother was generally alone in the murder and disposal of her child, Dr. Lankester went on to assert that the verdicts returned afforded no indication of the actual number of cases. He believed Mr. Wakley was right in fixing it at 300 a year, and as the murderess was generally twenty years of age, and seldom repeated her crime, taking the average life of women at 60, it followed that there were 12,000 women living who had committed the offence. He next glanced at the deaths occasioned amongst mothers and the effects of “baby farming,” observing that half the children upon whom he held inquests were illegitimate, and that from 40 to 80 per cent. of children admitted into foundling hospitals die within the first year, and concluded by stating his cure for the evil, which was to be worked through the pulpit, an alteration of the bastardy laws, as not more than one in 70 of the fathers contributed to the support of the child, the substitution of other than the capital punishment for the crime, a certified registration of births, as in Ireland and Scotland, and of still-born, as on the continent, and the enactment of punishments for the concealment of pregnancy.

May 9

“Justices’ justice” is certainly a riddle which cannot be solved—a puzzle that cannot be fathomed. In short the ways of the “great unpaid are incomprehensible—inexplicable”. Their vagaries are not only ridiculous, but mischievous; and every day brings forth fresh evidence of how they render the sacred name of justice a by-word for scorn and derision. In further proof of this being the case, we would draw our readers’ attention to two cases that recently came under the jurisdiction of magisterial benches at South Shields and at Leeds, as showing what scandalous severity is displayed in one instance, and what disgraceful leniency in the other.

A few days ago, one William Spencer Jones, lessee of the Jarrow Theatre, was summoned for having assaulted Mary Montague, an actress in his employment. The young lady having been asked to play a certain part, declined on the ground that it was not in the line for which she was engaged. The rest of the story is thus told in the report of the proceedings before the South Shields justices by the local paper:—

“On Miss Montague refusing to take the part, Mrs. Jones seized her by the hair, and dragged her across the stage to where the defendant was, and they then both endeavoured to throw her down some stairs. Mrs. Jones, failing in that, caught complainant in her arms, and tossed her to Jones, saying, ‘Give it to her!’ whereupon Jones swung his arms round her, and getting her head in his left arm, commenced to batter her face with his fist. He struck her several blows under the chin, and knocked seven of her teeth out. She thought Jones was going to kill her, and ‘she gave herself to God,” saying, ‘Lord take my soul!’ When defendant relaxed his hold of her, her jaws were locked, and it took her two hands before she could open her mouth, and when she did so several teeth fell out.”

Here was a most violent and barbarous assault perpetrated on a helpless young woman, by an infuriated virago and a most ruffianly fellow. They kicked her, they cuffed her, they beat her brutally and knocked seven teeth out of her mouth! We have seldom read of a more fiendish, of a more aggravated or dastardly assault. Three months’ imprisonment, with hard labour, as a sentence, would scarcely have met the requirements of justice. Even the magistrates themselves considered the case “a very bad one,” but the sentence they passed was certainly not in accord with the opinion given from the bench. They imposed a fine of five pounds on the cowardly assailant, and generously ordained that the complainant should have half the fine! The woman Tones appears to have got off free. Poor Miss Montague gets fifty shillings as compensation for the loss of seven teeth, and as a recompense for being pummelled within an inch of her life. Of course, the poor girl’s professional prospects are materially injured, if not quite ruined, by the consequences of Mr. and Mrs. Jones’s brutal violence. But the bench does not seem to have taken that part into consideration; and, therefore, any theatrical lessee who is desirous of thrashing a young actress and disfiguring her for life can do so for the paltry consideration of a five pound note! But the key to the leniency of these South Shields Shallows is, we suspect, to be found in the following little piece of information contained in the newspaper report. It says, “The defendant has property in the Tyne Dock.” Of course, Mr. Jones being a man of means, lessee of a theatre, and proprietor of stock in a local dock, found favour in the eyes of local magistrates; and, although the case was pronounced a very bad one, he got off for about the same amount as would be levied upon a costermonger convicted of ill-treating his donkey.

But if the South Shields justices have been guilty of most culpable leniency, surely the same indictment cannot be laid to the charge of the Leeds magistracy, as the following extract from the Leeds Mercury shows:—

“At the West Riding petty sessions, held at Leeds, yesterday, a lad named William Barlow, sixteen years of age, was sent for fourteen days to goal for playing at pitch and toss at Allerton Bywater on Friday last. The sitting magistrates were Sir A. Fairbairn, Mr. Darnton Lupton, and Mr. W. Hey.”

Poor Billy Barlow! He has assuredly fallen upon hard times, and seems to have gotten within the fangs of very hard men! We wonder if any of the “worthy magistrates” themselves ever indulge in a rubber of whist, or such like diversion? Be that, however, as it may, really seems to us that the punishment inflicted upon the boy is shamefully disproportionate with his offence; and we also think the pranks of the Leeds magistrates, as well as the vagaries of the South Shields justices, should be made subjects for investigation by the Home Secretary.

May 16

Do we live in a Christian country? Nominally and legally considered, we do; in reality, and according to the tone and teaching of the New Testament, we do not. It is true we are blessed—or cursed—with a State Church, presided over by her “sacred” Majesty, the Queen, and a pompous, pretentious, pelf-loving hierarchy of arch-prelates and prelates, who clearly—as an example unto others—“make the best of both words,” and, therefore, are “wise in their generation.” It is moreover true that those ecclesiastical, lawn-sleeved potentates enjoy princely salaries, inhabit princely palaces, and keep up courtly retinues of clerical and semi-clerical subordinates, ranking from the dignified office of a dean to the very undignified office of a verger. In addition, we have countless churches scattered over the country, and a whole army of clergy, of major and minor degree. These week after week remind us from the reading-desk, the altar, and the pulpit, that “we are all brethren”—that we should “love one another”—“do good unto all men; but especially to those who are of the household of faith”—in addition to a number of similar excellent admonitions. One would think, from the profusion of professions, made, that the apostolic spirit actuated every member of the Church, and that we had “all things in common.”

Alas! What a delusion! On Sunday professions ill accord with our every-day practice. What doleful, dreadful tales do we not daily read in the newspapers? How they harrow up the soul, and cause the blood to chill in one’s veins! We find by one journal how sordidly avaricious is that blind, crownless monarch, George of Hanover; and how he successfully sues in the Vice-Chancellor’s Court for the sum of over half a million—derived from the revenues of the electoral domain—which was invested, in 1783, in behalf of the reigning Elector of Hanover, King George III, and is now safely stored in the coffers of the Bank of England—a “godsend” which will materially help to alleviate “the sorrows of a poor old man.” In the same paper we alight upon a startling story, perfectly tragical in its nature. It records an inquest held upon a girl aged twelve years, at the Pitt’s Head Tavern, Bethnal-green. Her father, who was a shoemaker, died but three weeks ago. Hence his widow is left with a family of three children to support. Her utmost earnings amount to the munificent sum of two shillings and sixpence a-week, which she obtains by washing. Out of this paltry pittance she struggles—heaven only knows with what agony—to keep life in herself and her helpless orphans. In a week or ten days all the children are attacked by fever. Hence the miserable mother, crushed with sorrow upon sorrow, is compelled by sheer necessity to seek aid from the parish. She applies for relief, and this is the manner in which it is given. That magnificent official, the relieving officer, orders her two shillings in money and two shillings worth of bread!—Thinking, no doubt, with the singular sagacity of his class, that a wedge of a dry, hard loaf was very suitable for, and would be eagerly devoured by, fever-stricken children. The mother likewise—what noble philanthropy!—obtains an order for the medical man, who, however, happens not to “turn up.” Many hours elapse before the sick child is seen by a substitute for the parish doctor; and then his visit is made so late as nine o’clock at night. The following morning the poor mother wends her way to the “house” to receive her dole of bread. Upon returning to her dismal room she finds one of her children stark and cold on the floor!—its spirit passed away to Him who gave it. An inquest was duly held. The doctor says that the child had died from the effects of fever; and the sapient coroner’s jury returns the verdict, “Death from natural causes.” And all this occurs in Bethnal-green, of which parish Miss Burdett Coutts is one of the guardians. We wonder if any sanctimonious scripture-reader or pious proselytizer called in the interim and left a tract.

Last week we published the “Experiences of a Working Man in Workhouse.” It is a pithy and graphic narrative, and reveals a condition of things which is not only disgraceful but criminal. Driven by pinching poverty, and bent on search of work, the writer had to seek temporary shelter in no less than twenty-seven unions; only in one of which—that is, Birmingham—does a “casual” appear to be treated like a human being, much less a Christian brother. Here is an entry:—“Burton-on-Trent: No supper, no breakfast, no bed. A board to sleep on, covered by an old hop bag. I was insulted, sneered at, and told I had no business to allow hair to grow on my face until I could support myself.” And this in the region of wealthy brewers—the Basses and the Allsopps, who owe their fortunes mainly to the working man’s credulity in the wholesome and nutritious character of their ale! As Tom Hood says—

“Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun.”

But particularly in Burton-upon-Trent! But let us turn to Lichfield, which our correspondent terms, naively enough, “the home of a bishop.” Surely, episcopal influence will be found manifested in the workhouse of that famous cathedral city?

The poor woman, Elizabeth Jones, who was shot in the riot, has since died, and the coroner held an inquest on the body. The jury returned a verdict of “Justifiable homicide.” While the inquest was going on the police made their appearance in the cottage of Mrs. Jones, where the dead body lay, and took the deceased’s husband, Isaac Jones, into custody on a charge of having been concerned in the disturbances.

On Monday, the following persons, who had been apprehended on a charge of taking an active part in the riot at Mold, last week, were brought before the justices at the County Hall: —William Griffiths, collier; Benjamin Tatham, gentleman’s servant; William Thomas Jones, collier; Isaac Jones, collier; John Roberts, driver; and Roland Jones, collier.

Mr. Taylor, solicitor, Flint, appeared for the prisoners Isaac Jones and William Thomas Jones. The other prisoners were undefended.

Mr. Browne, chief constable of Flintshire, deposed that on the previous Wednesday evening a mob of about one thousand five hundred colliers commenced hustling and throwing stones at the police and soldiers who had in charge the two prisoners committed to goal for committing an assault upon Mr. Young, manager of the Lees-wood Green Colliery. The first stone was thrown by a woman, and immediately afterwards the stone-throwing became general from all directions, the object of the rioters evidently being to rescue the two prisoners, and several of his men were struck with stones and knocked down. The volleys of stones hurled at the military and police darkened the air, and he saw several of his men bleeding from the face and head, the blood streaming down their uniforms. It was impossible for any of them to go out and face the mob. If a magistrate had gone out of the station to read the Riot Act he would certainly have been murdered. Life was decidedly in great and imminent danger at that moment in the station. The witness called upon Captain Blake, the officer in command of the military, to protect himself and his own men and the constables by firing into the mob. He refused to do so. The witness thought it was necessary to have a magistrate’s order to justify firing, and he said to a magistrate, Mr. Clough, “For God’s sake give the order to fire, or we shall be all murdered!” He then shouted out, as loudly as he could, “Fire!” The commanding officer even then was very reluctant to allow his men to fire, although at that moment his face was covered with blood, and blood was also streaming from a wound at the back of his head. Some of the soldiers, who were very severely cut, were writhing under the pain they were suffering. They wished to fire, but the captain held them back. One private who was wounded charged his rifle, and was about to step towards the station-gate with his rifle pointed towards the mob, when one of the officers caught hold of him round the waist and drew him back off his legs, at the same time crying out, “For God’s sake don’t fire!” The stone-throwing all this time was continued, the mob even coming round to the platform and across the line on the opposite side of the railway. The police and military were thus surrounded by the rioters, and he again called upon the officers to fire on their assailants. Immediately after witness heard the discharge of a rifle, followed by other shots. The officers were holding their men back, and using every effort to check them in firing, cautioning them not to take human life. They said, “For God’s sake, men, don’t fire where there’s no necessity for it!” To the best of his judgment, twelve or fifteen shots were fired, and then the mob dispersed, and the few soldiers that were firing were ordered back to the platform. The greatest number of shots was fired from the yard behind the station. One or two shots were fired from the station gate. There was no volley firing, only dropping shots, with long intervals between the firing. Witness recognized Isaac Jones as being in the crowd in the courtyard as the escort with the prisoners in charge was startling for the station, but did not see him throw stones. He could not speak to any of the other prisoners.

Sergeant Hughes and several other police officers gave corroborative evidence, and identified all the prisoners as having taken part in the riot.

Captain Blake, who was in command of the soldiers, was called. The officer had plasters upon his head and face where he had been hit with stones. On Wednesday he received an order from his commanding officer at Chester to take fifty men to Mold, and he did so. He brought them to the county hall, and escorted the police, who had two prisoners in their charge, to the railway station. As they were proceeding down the road to the station, stone-throwing began, and it increased tremendously as the escort approached the station. Several of the soldiers were struck down by the missiles that were hurled at them, and bled very much. The gateway leading to the station being fastened, it occupied some time to get the police and soldiers through a narrow doorway which formed the only other access to the station. It was impossible for anyone to have gone out and talked to the crowd. He did not give the order to fire until Mr. Clough, a magistrate from Chester, told him to do so. He had not been able since, by examining the men’s ammunition, to ascertain the number of shots that had been fired, because some of the cartridges had been lost. Witness considered that life was in danger in the station, and that it was quite necessary for the soldiers to fire upon the mob. They did not use blank cartridge, and they were not allowed under such circumstances to fire above the heads of the rioters. There were twenty-three out of the fifty soldiers wounded on the occasion. They did not intentionally fire over the heads of the rioters.

Mr. Taylor applied for and obtained an adjournment, on the ground that he had only just received instructions to defend the prisoners, and wished for time to get up the defense. He also applied for bail on behalf of Isaac Jones, who wanted to see his wife buried; and, after some consultation, the bench granted it, requiring two sureties of 50l. each and the prisoner in 50l.

John Ryan, 62, a labourer, was charged with obtaining by false pretenses 22s. and 257lbs. of bread from Mr. Henry Edmonds, relieving officer of Kensington Workhouse Mr. Edmonds said, that on the 13th of December, the prisoner applied for relief for himself, his wife, and four children. He said that his eldest child was named James, age ten and a-half, and that his other children were Catherine, aged eight Ellen nine, and William, aged six. He was cautioned that if his children were over sixteen he was not entitled to relief for them. A single man would only get 6d. a-day and 1lb. of bread; a married man was only entitled to 8d. a-day and 2lbs. of bread. By making the statement that his children were under sixteen, and dependent upon him, he obtained 1l. 2s. in money and 257lbs. of bread, worth 1l. 13s., more than he was entitled to. Witness had cautioned him about his statement that his children were under eleven. His youngest child was over sixteen. Prisoner: I never had relief. I broke nine bushels of stones every day, and for that he paid me 10d. I was at work twenty-six weeks. The Judge: The point is not that you did not do the work, but that you obtained extra pay by an untruth. Prisoner: If 10d. a day is too much for a man it is a wonder. The Judge: That is the law. I am not saying it is right, but that is the law. Prisoner (to the relieving officer): You are the man who is taking the parish money, and not the man who is getting 10d. a-day for his work. Evidence having been given that the children of the prisoner were over sixteen years, he said, “What have my children to do with the breaking of stones? I am the man that has got to do that. I do not know the ages of my children. I never booked their ages. He gave me 10d.; if he gave me too much I never knew the rule.” Mr. Edmonds: The children must be under the age of sixteen years to be entitled to relief. The judge: It is a serious matter for the ratepayers, who ought not to be defrauded. The jury returned a verdict of “Guilty,” with a recommendation to mercy. Mr. Edmonds then handed in a list of previous convictions which a sergeant of police had given him. The sergeant was not present to prove the facts alleged in the document. The Judge: I suspect that these are charges against the son of the prisoner, and we cannot punish the father for them. One is six months for stealing. Mr. Edmonds: His daughter states that it does apply to the son, but he has been bound over for beating his wife. The prisoner: She is given to drink. Mr. Edmonds: She is a hard-working woman. The prisoner’s daughter, having been sworn, said: I am sixteen. My mother is not given to drink. He used to bring the bread home, but mother threw it out of the window at 43, Yecman’s-row, Brompton, and called it “parish bread.” She has collected a mob before the house. The witness Payne saw her do it. Samuel Payne (an old pauper): I never did. Mr. Edmonds: What the daughter is may be known when I say that she comes home very early in the morning. The daughter: I am a laundress. The Judge: I do not believe your evidence. The sentence is nine months’ hard labour.

John Buckhurst, 21, a letter-carrier, and Charles Ashton, 20, a riveter, were indicted for stealing a Bank of England note value 20l, the property of William Turner. Both the prisoners pleaded “Guilty.” The prosecutor was a young man who had lately taken a beer-house at 290, Bethnal-green-road, and he said that on the 15th of July he went to lodge with the prisoner Ashton, at 11, Old Bethnal-green-road. On Sunday, the 19th, he met the prisoner Buckhurst, and he went to sleep at the house. They made up a bed with their clothes, and all went to sleep. Witness rolled up and left four 20l. notes and 16l. in gold. He then placed his watch and chain at the foot of the bed. There was another man sleeping in the same room, and at six o’clock in the morning he awoke witness, and the watch and chain were then missing, and the prisoners were gone. He afterwards saw his purse at the Liverpool police-station. The prisoners were old friends of his. It will be recollected that the money belonged to a woman whom the prosecutor was going to marry, and with her consent it was handed back to him. The prisoners were then sentenced to eighteen months’ hard labour.

Aug

On Monday afternoon, Mr. Richards, the deputy-coroner, held an inquiry at the Fountain Tavern, Virginia-row, Hackney-road, respecting the death of Arthur Fuller Gilroy, aged seven weeks.

The jury having been sworn, proceeded to Miss Burdett Coutts’s Model Lodging-houses, No. 102, Columbia-square, where they saw, in a room on the ground-floor, two babies. One lay dead in a coffin, and it weighed four and a half pounds. The other baby was a fat child ten months old, and its weight was one stone, ten pounds. Its mother said, “It didn’t get a prize, for there were so many beautiful babies like it at the show,” referring to the recent “Baby Show” at the Woolwich Gardens.

Mrs. Louisa Gilroy, of No. 32, Richmond-road, Barnsbury, stated that her husband, Francis Gilroy, a comedian, had died on the 20th of December. He left her with three children, and she was compelled to become forewoman at a shop in order to support them. Towards the end of June the deceased was born, and when it was a few hours old, Mrs. Susannah Smith, the wife of a hot-presser, living at No. 102, Columbia-square, took it to her home. Once or twice a week later that, witness saw the child, and it was nothing but skin and bone. It was a complete skeleton from its birth. Mrs. Smith had asked witness seven shillings a-week to take care of the child, but she ultimately agreed to take five shillings a-week. She fed the child on breast-milk for a month, and then she fed it on milk and corn-flour. Witness did not think that the child was starved. It was impossible to care for the child at home, for if that had been done the whole family must have starved. Since the death of her husband, she and her children had been half-starved. He was not a member of the Royal Dramatic College, and she received no money from any public institution.

Mrs. Susannah Smith said: I never advertised in a newspaper that I would take care of children. When I took charge of the deceased, it was left to my option as to whether I should feed it on the breast or not. I fed it on the breast for a fortnight, and then I found that I could not feed two children on the breast, so I fed it on corn flour and milk. I fed my own child on the breast. He is a beauty of a baby. I took him to the show at Woolwich Gardens. Oh, he is a beauty. He did not get a prize, for there were so many babies there. I was at the show with him for four days. I left the deceased at home while I was at the show. I could not suckle two babies, and that was the reason why I bought a bottle for him. While I was at the show I left him in charge of a woman. He died on Wednesday. I can, if you like, bring my baby here and show him to you; he is a beauty.

A juror: No; we want to hear about the dead one.

Mr. H. B. Lilley, M.R.C.S., said that the deceased weighed 41/2 lbs. It measured ten inches round the chest, and it was sixteen inches in length. There was very little fluid in the stomach. It had died from exhaustion and diarrhœa. It was a pitiable object after death.

The Coroner said that the case was a very painful one, and

The jury returned a verdict “That the deceased child expired from the effects of exhaustion.”

Aug 12

On Tuesday, Dr. Hardwicke, deputy-coroner, held an inquest at the College Arms, in Crowndale-road, Camden-town, on the body of James Crew, aged fifty-nine, a coachman, who died in the infirmary of the St. Pancras workhouse. It appeared that the deceased some time ago attempted to commit suicide, and, after having been taken to the House of Detention, was removed first to the insane ward of the workhouse, and then to Colney-hatch Asylum as insane. He was discharged from Colney-hatch as cured towards the end of last year, and then received 5s. and three loaves a week from St. Pancras as out-door relief. The guardians a short time ago discontinued this relief, and said the man, his wife, and three children, must go into the house if they required more relief. The wife objected to break up her home, as she received 10s. a week for minding a gentleman’s house, with which she was enabled to pay 4s. 6d. a week and support her three children. The husband, however, went into the house. The Discharge Committee suggested to him (as admitted by the relieving officer) that what little goods his wife had must be sold to pay part of his maintenance, and that the whole family must come into the house. The wife of deceased objected to give up her lodging and sell her goods, as she said the person whose house she was minding might return at a moment’s notice and then she would have nowhere to go to. She objected to go into the workhouse, and alleges that she told the relieving officer she would support her husband out of the house if the guardians only would allow her 1s. or 1s. 6d. per week. This the relieving officer did not remember, but he stated that he advised the Discharge Committee to continue the out-door relief as a better course than pauperizing the whole family. The committee did not agree with this, but insisted that the home must be broken up and the goods sold. Before any action, however, was taken the man died. The widow said the threat of the committee to sell them up preyed upon deceased’s mind, and when she visited him in the workhouse he said he should get on very well “only for that horrid committee.” He several times said he dreaded going before those men again. She believed his death was accelerated by anxiety, the result of the way the committee treated him. The medical evidence showed that death was caused by apoplexy. Mr. Watson, one of the minority of the Board of Guardians, said if the alleged threat had been held out, it was a most unusual and inhuman one. A juror said there was great blame to the guardians for acting as they had done. Dr. Hardwicke said it was the fault of the Poor-law system. Mr. Watson said, in spite of the Poor-law, they often gave out-door relief sooner than break up the homes of the poor. The foreman of the jury (Mr. Ward) said it was a wretched policy to try to make this poor woman give up a situation of ten shillings a week, sell what goods she had, and go into the workhouse with her children because her husband was too ill to work for his own living. A juror said if that was the policy of their new guardians it was a disgrace to them. After a short deliberation, the jury returned a verdict that death was the result of natural causes, but they appended a resolution, “That a more judicious temporary or permanent system of outdoor relief for the honest poor would be the most economical system to ratepayers, and would be more in accordance with the requirements of the poor, than breaking up their homes and compelling them to become permanent inmates of the workhouse.

Sep 19

The Poor-law guardians of the Brackley Union met the other day to investigate charges preferred by the Rev. Francis Litchfield, an ex officio guardian, against Mr. Walton, bread contractor to the union, of supplying unwholesome bread, and against the relieving officers, Messrs. Curtis and Heath, with conniving at this being done. Mr. Peel, Poor-law inspector, was present during the inquiry. The Rev. F. Litchfield and several other witnesses gave evidence that the bread was bad. Mr. Curtis stated that he commenced to buy bread from Mr. Walton for his own family, in order that if it was bad he might bring it before the board. But it never was bad, although taken out of the cart from which bread to the poor was delivered. He admitted, however, that he had told Mr. Coleman, one of the guardians, that at one end of Walton’s cart there was good bread, and at the other heavy bread. Thomas Watts, an old man in receipt of outdoor relief at Horton, said he had lived on Walton’s bread for two years, and never yet had cause to complain; but sometimes, he admitted, when pressed by one of the guardians, it got a little moldy. Mr. Litchfield said he had asked some of the poor people why they did not complain, and their answer was, “For fear that the bread should be taken off, and they be compelled to go into the workhouse.” The Poor-law inspector, after bearing the evidence, said the case against the relieving officers was one which, if the guardians thought fit, would have to go before the Poor-law board. The guardians should have taken the trouble of seeing the bread occasionally themselves, and tasting it. Not only were they bound to see that it was good when new, but that it would keep a reasonable time. Mr. Peel then left, and the guardians after discussing the question, passed a resolution calling upon Mr. Walton to fulfill his contract according to sample, and stating that in future his tenders would not be received by the board. Another resolution was also adopted reprimanding the relieving officers, and directing them in future, when bad bread was supplied, to purchase good bread, and charge the difference in price to the contractor.

Sep 19

A dreadful crime was perpetrated on Tuesday in a row of cottages off St. Leonard’s-road, Poplar, the east end of London, where the entire family of a mechanic recently thrown out of work, was destroyed with the utmost deliberation. It has been ascertained that the perpetrators or at least the chief perpetrator of the murder was Jonathan Judge, a driller employed in the building of iron ships, who had been for a long time out of employment. He resided with his wife, Clara Judge, a native of Devonshire, and his daughter Louisa, aged four years, and an infant son, Charles, aged ten months, at 18, Bromley cottages, St. Leonard’s road, not far from the East India Docks. During the great depression in the ship building trade, he was for a period of ten months wholly unemployed, and one of his children died, and the infant Charles was born. These combined circumstances threw the family into extreme distress, but they never applied to the workhouse for any relief, even though they were often dependent on the kindness of a neighbour for food. Their principal resource was a pawnshop, but a local club, the Great Eastern, gave some assistance on the occasion of the child’s death. Some six weeks ago, Judge got work at Messrs. Dudgeon’s shipbuilding-yard, but in three weeks the great fire occurred at Messrs. Dudgeon’s, and Judge was consequently again thrown out of work. This new blow seems quite to have overwhelmed him and his wife. A fortnight ago Mrs. Judge, while recounting her troubles to her next-door neighbour, Mrs. Farmer, of 17, Bromley-cottages, said her husband the night before had said something in a very peculiar way. He said, according to her, “I know a way of ending the whole thing. It is a very easy way that I have heard of. It is not my life or your life that I care about; but I do care about the children.”

On Monday evening Judge was summoned to attend a meeting of his club to consider whether a young man who had broken his leg in a fight should be assisted out of the club funds. The club meeting over, Judge returned to 18, Bromley-cottages, and finding his wife absent, he knocked at Mrs. Farmer’s wall to attract her attention. Mrs. Judge went to her husband, who appears to have fetched some beer in a can. He then, with some paste, which had been previously made for the purpose, carefully covered all the chinks of the windows with brown paper. He next went into the yard, and chopped up a great quantity of wood. He was so long engaged in this occupation that one of his neighbours gave him some pieces ready shopped, which he accepted. When he went indoors, nothing further was seen or heard of the family until half-past nine o’clock on Tuesday morning.

The neighbours finding that, contrary to custom, the Judges made no sign of stirring so late as half-past nine o’clock, and the singular words of Mrs. Judge a fortnight ago being called to mind, the police were communicated with. Sergeant Holton, of the K division, and Police-constable 299 K, at once proceeded to the spot, and with the aid of a ladder got in at the upper floor windows, and breaking the glass drew aside the blind. The fumes of charcoal were at once perceptible. The spectacle in the room was terrible. Judge and his wife lay on the bed in their night-dresses, and uncovered by the bed-clothes; Mrs. Judge was on her back, and Judge, by her side, clasped her in his arms, his head reclining on her breast. The infant was on the mother’s left side, and the little girl Louisa was nestling close to her father. All four were quite dead. The children had apparently died in their sleep without a pang. It was then seen that the door had been as carefully covered with paper to exclude air from the crevices as the window had been. A portion of an old milk can, which stood near the table and not far from the foot of the bed, had served as a brazier for the charcoal. The wood which had been given to Judge by the neighbour on Monday evening was found untouched, but the quantity of wood which he had himself cut up had disappeared, and it is therefore supposed that he had used it to intensify the fumes of the charcoal, of which he must have possessed himself with a view to the destruction of his family. Mr. Matthew Brownfield, police-surgeon, of the East India-road, was at once sent for, but he pronounced death to have occurred some considerable time previously.

On examining the premises more carefully two letters were found, one of which contained the words,—“Give the eight-day clock to Ben Jonathan Judge.” The other was a much longer document. It minutely specified the household things of which the family was possessed, and directed their distribution among their relatives. It is signed, or at least purports to be signed, by “Jonathan Judge” and “Clara Judge” This fact leads to the supposition that Judge persuaded his wife to join him in destroying the whole family, and, indeed, from the position in which the body was found—clasped in his arms, and with the eyes open, showing that she had not been suffocated in her sleep—there is a difficulty in accepting any other theory of the affair. But Mrs. Judge declares the signature, “Clara Judge”, is a forgery of her husband’s, who, according to her account, only imitated his wife’s writing very unskillfully.

On Wednesday, Mr. John Humphreys, the Middlesex corner, held an investigation at the St. Leonard’s Arms Tavern, St. Leonard’s-road, Bromley, respecting the deaths of Jonathan Judge aged thirty-three years, Clara Ann Judge, aged thirty-three years, Louisa Emily Judge, aged three years, and that of Judge, aged ten months.

Henry Judge stated that he was the brother of the deceased man. Witness was a driller living at No. 37, Inglehorn-terrace, Millwall. His brother was a driller, residing at 18, Bromley-cottages. The deceased woman was the wife of the man, and the children found lying dead in the bed were theirs. Witness has never heard his brother threaten to destroy his life. The letters produced were in the handwriting of his brother.

Mrs. Harriet Farmer said the deceased family lived next door to her. On Monday night, at half-past nine o’clock, witness heard the deceased woman chopping a piece of very hard wood. It was so hard that witness gave her a softer piece. That was the last time witness saw her.

Mrs. Clara MʼGennis, 13. Bromley Cottages, was called, and said that on Monday night she and her husband saw the deceased man Judge near his own house. Witness said, “There you are,” and her husband cried out to him, “I’ll have your curls.” He made no reply. Witness had seen Mrs. Judge on the previous Friday, and she then said, “My husband is out of work, and there is no likelihood of his getting any.” She then walked towards the door, and then back again, as if she had something on her mid, and was afraid that she would tell it.

In answer to the coroner, Mrs. MʼGennis said that she knew the handwriting of the deceased woman, as she had often seen her sign a rent-book. She felt confident that the deceased woman intended to communicate something to her on the Friday, for she “seemed to hold her words back” as she was walking away from her.

Dr. Matthew Brownfield said there were no marks of violence externally on any of the bodies, which were all well-nourished and clean. He made a post mortem examination of the body of the woman by order. He found that the flesh was of a bright red color. The woman had died from the effects of carbonic acid, resulting from suffocation by charcoal. The man was evidently standing by the bed-side, and then he fell across the bodies of his wife and children, when the fumes of the charcoal had overpowered him. All the family died from suffocation.

Mrs. Eleanor Wilson said that the deceased woman was her sister, and that her husband was a little given to drink, and was very irritable. When he “took a drop” it affected his head. The writing, “Clara Judge,” on the letter, was her sisterʼs.

Robert Thorne, a driller, said that he knew that deceased’s family was in great poverty, for the man had been out of work for a long time. Witness, who was also out of employment, in consequence of the depression in the iron shipbuilding trade, was constantly with him. He was a very quiet man. He had been eight years a soldier in the 24 h Foot, and had served out in Bombay. The deceased had never complained of having received a sun stroke in India, and when he was out of work he said, “I wish I was back in India again.” His wages, when in work, were a guinea a week.

Sergeant Holton, 26 K, said that he found in the room two papers, on one of which was written the words, “I give the old family clock to my brother, Robert Judge, of Kew Gardens. (Signed) J. Judge” The next document was as follows,—“13th September. I, J. Judge, hereby certify and leave to Elanor Wilson all we possess. (Signed) J. Judge, Clara Judge”. The signatures were in the handwritings of the two deceased persons.

Some further evidence was taken, and the jury, after an hour’s deliberation, returned a verdict of “Wilful murder against Jonathan and Clara Judge, and that they had destroyed their own lives while in a state of unsound mind.”

“Thou shalt not steal.” Once a week, all the year round, the priest from the altar proclaims, in solemn tone, this charge; to which the congregation piously respond, “Lord have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.” Custom frequently renders things not only familiar, but absolutely foolish. Only fancy a well-dressed, well-to-do, highly-perfumed assembly of church-goers gravely repeating such pregnant words after the clergyman’s warning. Seriously considered, it seems offensive to presume that anyone who composes a fashionable, or, indeed, ordinary genteel, congregation of worshippers, would possess the slightest tendency to theft. Hence, one would suppose, this commandment, at least, might with propriety be expunged from the Decalogue as being only suited to “ragged Christmas” and “ragged charities.” But it is extremely difficult to conceive how select congregations can patiently bear with such a commandment being read to them, or how they can audibly join in a petition to the Almighty, having a due sense of the force and implication of the words they use. If the tendency to steal be so interwoven with human nature that we have constantly to pray to be delivered from the evil, it ought to make us merciful to those whose passion gets the victory over them, especially when this passion is pricked by the spur of adversity, and when the theft committed is trivial.

We all recognize the essential sentiment or principle of justice, but we do not all agree as to what constitutes it. As Hume remarks, “The rules of equity or justice depend entirely on the particular state and condition in which men are placed, and owe their origin and existence to that utility which results to the public from their strict and regular observance.” Even in order to arrive at what a person’s property is, we have to sift through statutes, customs and precedents which render the work of justice no easy task. At times, not only utility, but analogy, fails, and we are left to grope hopelessly in the dark. Now some modern administrators of justice bring not only themselves, but the majesty of the law, into complete contempt. They are set up as laughing-stocks for common-sense to jeer at. Certain silly, inexperienced, shallow-pated, would-be-virtuous squires, or equally silly, but puffed-up, coxcomb parsons, who enjoy what is called “the commission of the peace,” frequently perpetrate such flagrant antics in their administration of the law as call for severe and condign reprehension. They get the Queen’s “commission,”—not because they are learned in the law, or eminent for their judgment and discrimination; but because they possess wealth, landed estates, and local influence. No qualification beyond these is required in a modern magistrate, except he belong to the stipendiary class. Hence it is, that the law is so often and so flagrantly outraged, and common sense set at defiance. “Justices’ justice” has now grown into a by-word. This slur will needs continue until the whole tribe of petty justices be removed, and men appointed to administer the laws having a due knowledge of their duties, a becoming sense of their responsibilities, and a just respect for public opinion. An unpaid and unqualified magistracy is no slight curse. In this, as in most matters, cheap and nasty go hand-in-hand.

Only a few days since, a rigidly legal clergyman in Devon discovered an adventurous youth in his orchard purloining apples. Such a peccant “proclivity” is not unusual among boys, and a recent eminent Lord Chancellor confessed, late in life, to have perpetrated a similar heinous deed when at college. Having a sacred respect for the commandment which forbids stealing, but a more sacred regard for the rights of individual property, this smooth-faced, sleepy parson—the Rev. G. T. Lewis—had the poor culprit brought before a bench of justices, of whom Lord Poltimore was the chief. The evidence was taken in due form, and those sapient worthies felt the enormity of the boy’s offence to be such that they sentenced him to a month’s imprisonment in a common goal, and, in addition, to three years’ confinement in a reformatory!

Abominable and manifestly unjust sentences of a like nature, for comparatively slight offences, are on the increase. Not a week passes but we read of them. They not only outrage all sense of justice, but they shock the feelings even of “common” persons, who are supposed not to be particularly sensitive, like their betters. Besides, they tend to increase crime, and develop that unique class of evil-doers known as “habitual criminals;” to suppress which has been among the last efforts of the recent session of parliament. To send a young person to goal, or to a reformatory, for a first offence,—especially if it be of a trivial kind—is a grievous wrong. It is a wrong done to the petty delinquent, and a worse wrong done to society. Nothing can excuse or palliate it. One can scarcely touch pitch without becoming defiled, and the defilement generated by our gaols is notorious. If you go into these Sloughs of Despond pure—which is often the case—you come out impure, so active is the contagion. Besides, the slur sticks to you. You cannot wash off the felon’s brand, do what you might. All self-respect is gone forever. There is no getting over the loss of caste and character. Hence the tendency unquestionably is to prey on society and thus by a retributive but still wicked vengeance to punish it for its blindness.

Aug 22

We are conscientiously of opinion that the stupid sort of justice frequently administered by clerical and fox-hunting provincial magnates tends immensely to beget a contempt for law, to increase crime, and to the formation of habitual criminals. The county functionaries work like moles in the dark. As a rule, they know little or nothing of common law; are ignorant of the ordinary rules of evidence; and know not how to judge of an offence, or mete out proper punishment for it. They are a haughty, purse-proud class, who think themselves oligarchs in a small way. But they are, from their necessarily isolated position, narrow-minded and prejudiced in the extreme. Constantly their prejudice and passion warp their judgment, when they have any, and their decisions, in countless cases, bring on them merited odium and contempt. We shall be glad to see the whole privileged order abolished, and a legally-educated and paid magistracy appointed in their stead. In fact, it must come to this ere long. The public intelligence will not suffer such a disgrace to civilization to exist. The country has to maintain a vast body of criminals whom it cannot hope to reform. It will not suffer the administration of the laws to be placed in incompetent and blundering hands, and thereby add to an army of delinquents already formidable, under the imposing name of “habitual criminals.”

Aug 15

It needs a journey to New York in an emigrant vessel properly to appreciate what those endure who, in search of work and bread, are forced to quit their native land. Even in the best regulated steam-ships, where the berths are spacious, where ventilation is free, and where the food supplied is ample and good, there is much to endure before the end of the voyage. Unfortunately, emigrants suffer from a twofold illness—namely, sickness of the stomach and sickness of heart. To render their voyage across the Atlantic at all bearable, it is essentially necessary that their comfort should be specially studied, and, above all things, that they should be supplied with a proper amount of wholesome provisions.

In our last impression we published a “complaint” from several emigrants who had reached New York by the City of Paris. They tell a short but pithy tale. First, the bread served out to them, when they had partially got over the sea-sickness, was sour; and it was only by repeated grumbling that a better quality was supplied. The fish they received on Fridays they describe as “abominable,” the effluvia from which drove many on deck. Salt beer of pork, with pea-soup, seems to have been the usual dinner; while the supper consisted merely of weak tea and biscuit. Some of the emigrants, it is averred, only escaped sheer starvation by having had the precaution to have brought a stock of provisions with them. These are certainly grave and even serious charges to bring against a steamship company; and they, doubtless, will have to be answered, and answered in a satisfactory manner.

We have reason to know that, as a rule, emigrants are not well treated on board ship. The owners or agents of emigrant vessels only covet to make the “run” pay. They look to little or nothing besides. Some companies practice the most parsimonious economy, from which niggardliness and shabbiness the saloon passengers are not wholly exempt. Of course, there are official inspectors, who must view the ship ere she clears the port, and be satisfied that the emigrants are not overcrowded, and that the provisions are sound and abundant. But this is merely a formal proceeding. A steamer, for example, will leave Liverpool with some four or five hundred people in the steerage. Next day she will call at an Irish port, when, possibly, four or five hundred additional emigrants will be taken on board. They are sent by the agent, and the captain cannot refuse to take them, although he well knows that the space “below” is sparse and the food scanty. The evils that follow can scarcely be described. In fact, nothing can be more revolting or shocking than the scenes frequently enacted on board vessels that carry steerage passengers.

Emigrants are treated with no higher regard than if they were so many hogs. They are huddled together by hundreds between decks, in close, foul-smelling berths, where they lie for days helpless and uncared for, except, indeed, they can wait upon themselves. ‘This true that one or two stewards bring them their meals at stated intervals, or rather place them on a table formed of planks, and improvised for the occasion, so that they can either take or leave, as they have a mind. They are looked upon as “scum” and treated accordingly. All decency is openly violated, and there is a woeful lack of accommodation of a most essential kind. The scenes on board are frequently revolting; in fact, no words can adequately describe them. Owing to dirt, foul air, and low diet, sickness often occurs. But there is no hospital accommodation worth naming provided in most emigrant vessels. Small-pox now and again breaks out; but when this is the case, the infected are hidden away; nothing is said about it, and the patients may be smuggled into port, and placed in hospital, without the local authorities being made cognizant of the fact. This we have known to be done in order to escape the inconvenience and expense of quarantine.

It would be well if, next session, the attention of parliament were drawn to the treatment of steerage passengers on board emigrant ships plying between this country and North America. A more comprehensive and efficient scheme of legislation is urgently needed to correct the scandalous, and, indeed, growing, abuses at present existing. As it stands, the law is too weak, and is easily evaded; while it is to be feared that emigration inspectors are not invariably faithful in the discharge of their onerous duties. One thing is certain—that steamship companies mainly look for profit on their freight, whether it be human or otherwise. They are too often indifferent to the comfort of emigrants, and may be so parsimonious as to stint the supply of food and drugs.

Nov 14

The parish of St. Pancras has been kept in a state of angry commotion for a considerable time. The previous guardians of the poor, aware of the sad deficiency of hospital accommodation for the numerous sick who are compelled to enter the “house,” endeavoured to remedy that evil by erecting a commodious structure opposite the Small-pox Hospital. The edifice had gone far towards completion, when a cabal arose. A noisy clique of parsimonious and inhuman ratepayers got up a loud cry against it, on the ground of lavish expenditure of money for, as they maintained, an unnecessary object. The recalcitrant succeeded, and, at the recent election of guardians, gave their votes for those candidates who promised to study the interests of their constituents, and ignore the rights and necessities of the infirm poor. Hence men were elected to office who bound themselves to effect retrenchment and practice economy, no matter what principle was involved, or what sacrifice was adopted.

St. Pancras workhouse has already earned a most unenviable notoriety. Not long since circumstances were brought to light which have affixed a damning stain upon the manner in which its affairs are administered. And now comes the crowning condemnation. The details evoked at the last revelation make one shudder to dwell on. Good God! Can it be possible that, in a civilized and vauntedly Christian country, events transpire which would disgrace a savage nation were such enacted there? Yet such is the case. Our numerous readers, we are sure, will cry “Shame!” when we have recorded the shocking story.

A poor man, named Murphy, suffering from consumption, obtains an order for the St. Pancras workhouse. He is placed in an infirmary ward, and seen by the doctor, who seems to have treated his case lightly, “as there did not appear to be much the matter with him to call for immediate attention.” This was about four p.m. on the 2nd of November. At ten o’clock at night he was again seen by the medical officer, who ordered him a poultice and some cough mixture. Next day, at noon, the patient sinks and dies. His relatives are sent for, and, to avoid the exposure that may arise from an inquest, the dead body is given up to them. A practitioner, named Barnes, was induced to write out the necessary certificate of death, although he had not seen the deceased for three days previous to his demise! No wonder that the coroner should make the piquant remark—“In the three days since Mr. Barnes saw the man, that man might be murdered for all Mr. Barnes knew, or the man might be still alive; but there was the certificate of death in either case.”

Fortunately, however, something leaks out which induces Dr. Lankester, the coroner, to insist upon holding an inquest on the body of Murphy. The inquiry took place on Monday, when the most horrifying revelations were disclosed—revelations which cause the blood to creep in our veins while we write of them. At the outset we discover that the dead body was removed from the public mortuary to a house containing nine rooms, occupied by no less than twenty-seven persons, and in which malignant scarlet fever was raging. Into this fever-stricken abode the jury, of course, had to go, in order to view the body, respecting the death of which they were about to record their verdict.

According to the testimony of Dr. James Ellis, the resident medical officer of St. Pancras Workhouse, the sick man was placed in ward No. 11—which was reserved specially for male cases. There were thirty-seven cases in that ward, and as there were but twenty-eight beds, nine cases had no better accommodation than the floor! The cubic space given was about one-half the required allowance, so that the patients, through deficiency of room, had to lie between the bedsteads, down the gangways. As many as ninety-five sick people had to lie on the floor in the several wards during the previous week. The atmosphere was “very bad indeed,” and several deaths occurred lately in consequence. It was Dr. Ellis’s opinion that the death of Murphy was “accelerated” by this cause.

We believe Dr. Ellis to be a most humane and conscientious gentleman. His heart must have been deeply harrowed by the revolting state of things he was constantly obliged to witness. But what could he, a paid official, do against his masters, the board of guardians?—those petty pretentious potentates who make professions, it may be, of piety, and draw long faces at the Bethesda o’ Sundays, while the Rev. Boanerges Boreas rails against the devil and those who work wickedness. Although he could not do much directly, he might indirectly; consequently, he requests Mr. Samuel Solly, vice-president of St. Thomas’s Hospital, “to look at these wards some evening.” Mr. Solly does so; and here is his pungent testimony as to their disgraceful condition. This distinguished lecturer on surgery tells the coroner and the jury that on the night of the 4th of November he visited St. Pancras Workhouse Infirmary. Respecting ward No. 11, he emphatically states, “I have been in a good many foul places; but I don’t think I ever in all my life went into any room which stuck so beastly as that!” He gives it as his opinion that such a loathsome, pestiferous den must have accelerated Murphy’s death. He avers that not only was it overcrowded, but the ventilation was bad—so bad, indeed, that “it had such an effect upon me that after I left the ward I was obliged to stop to get fresh air before proceeding, so much was I overpowered by the stench.” Should a case of typhoid fever occur, it would inevitably go from bed to bed! All the wards he entered were foul and offensive, not excepting the room occupied by the nurses.

Mr. R. B. Carter, of Princes-street, Hanover-square, who accompanied Mr. Solly on his disagreeable mission, gives even more painful and disgusting details. The only ventilation was a broken window, through which a stone had been thrown. “I am familiar,” he states, “with the condition of sick wards and workhouse wards at night; but I never smelt anything so bad in any wards in my life. I have been in wards at all hours of the night, and I repeat that I never smelt anything so vile as those of St. Pancras. Speaking as a surgeon, I say that wounds would not heal in these wards, and I should not like to perform an operation there.” And yet the wards had been shut up but barely half an hour! “Tell it not in Gath, utter it not in the streets of Eskalon!” In addition to the horrible revelations adduced, it appears from the evidence of both the medical witness that the mattresses and coverlids were “thin,” and that the former “would be very painful to those lying upon them”—to such a desperate degree had parsimony and inhumanity been carried by the guardians of the poor

The verdict of the coroner’s jury was that the deceased died of consumption; and that his death was accelerated by the unwholesome state of the ward in which he was placed.” According to Dr. Ellis, one medical officer had died of fever, and another was invalided, and had since died through the like cause. As no action was taken against the guardians in either of these cases, it is not likely that the death of a mere costermonger will get them into trouble, or cause them any inconvenience, uneasiness, or remorse. Tis true the man Murphy, according to his wife’s testimony, did not want to go the workhouse. He sought to become an intern patient of the Middlesex Hospital, where he would not be admitted. He wished “to be somewhere free from the trouble of the children,” and the only available asylum that offered was the workhouse ward, where he speedily got forever relieved of the “the trouble of the children,” and the heartlessness of guardians to boot.

Such is London in the nineteenth century, and such is the barbarous mode in which the sick poor are dealt with in our workhouses. Ought the guardians of St. Pancras to escape scot free, under such circumstances? Is there no law to reach their case? Lately, an over-zealous Sabbatarian endeavoured to punish a poor fellow for trying to get a precarious but honest living by selling some articles on a Sunday morning; and, with this object, endeavoured to resuscitate an old Act of Charles II. Is there no law, obsolete or otherwise, that can make those derelict guardians smart for their betrayal of the poor, their gross violation of sacred obligations, and their grievous neglect of duty? If there is not, there ought to be. Nevertheless, such will be the just judgment of the public, that they will henceforth be compelled to hang their heads through very shame. We shall await with curiosity and impatience the course which the Poor-law Board will adopt with reference to them and their evil deeds. The death of the poor man Murphy, and the revolting revelations disclosed by eminent medical witnesses, it is to be hoped will quell all opposition to the rapid completion of the proposed new infirmary for St. Pancras, especially after the prompt communication from the Poor-law Board.

Nov 14

On Wednesday, an important investigation was opened before Dr. Lankester, the coroner for Central Middlesex, on the bodies of no less than seven persons who have died in the infirmary or other parts of the St. Pancras workhouse.

It may naturally be supposed that such an occurrence taking place so rapidly after the case of Michael Murphy, reported in page 6, and arising out of somewhat similar circumstances, created no small amount of excitement, not only amongst the guardians, but the ratepayers who had become cognizant of the proceedings. A considerable number of the former were present, and the inquest room was crowded. Mr. Samuel Solly, the vice-president of the Royal College of Surgeons, and Mr. R. B. Carter were in attendance to give evidence.

The jury was empannelled on the bodies of Jane Harrison, aged fifty-eight, Julia Conder, aged thirty, James Plant, aged fifty eight, Jane Hayes, Mary Brown, Mary Smith, and John Fox. The case of Jane Harrison was first taken.

Fr. James Ellis, medical officer of the infirmary, said the immediate cause of death was congestive apoplexy, but it was accelerated by the overcrowded state of the ward in which she lay and the impure atmosphere.

Mr. Solly was then examined. He deposed to the exceedingly foul condition of the air in the wards he had examined, and agreed with Dr. Ellis as to the death of the woman being in some measure due to the atmosphere she was compelled to breathe.

In the course of the subsequent proceedings it was stated by Mr. Watson, the vice-chairman of the board, that twenty-seven more bedsteads had been ordered to be put up in the infirmary, notwithstanding Dr. Ellis’s report as to its overcrowded condition.

This jury immediately returned the following verdict:—“That the deceased, June Harrison, died from the mortal effects of the effusion of serum into the brain, and that her death was accelerated by the overcrowding and want of ventilation of the ward in which she was placed in the infirmary of St. Pancras workhouse”

Evidence was then given as to the deaths of Julia Conder and James Plant, and in each case it was stated that the impure condition of the wards had hastened the fatal events. One of the guardians, Mr. Chandler, was examined. He said the wards were unfit for any sick person to be placed in. He must say, however, that himself and other guardians felt great difficulty in the matter through the conduct of the Poor law Board, who said that every patient ought not to have less than 850 cubic feet of space, and yet they certified for 205 patients in the infirmary. He contended that Mr. Corbett and Dr. Markham, if they considered that 850 cubic feet ought to be given to every inmate, had not done their duty.

The Coroner said it was certain that the infirmary to its present state was quite unfit for sick people, and steps ought to be taken without delay for removing them, as there was plenty of evidence to show that the infirmary was, in fact, killing them. There was a great wrong somewhere.

The investigation into this and other cases was ultimately adjourned.

Nov

We regret to learn that the number of cases of relapsing fever appears to be still on the increase in the metropolis, and we understand that, in view of meeting any exigency which may arise, a deputation from the managers of the Metropolitan Asylum Board waited upon the President of the Poor-law Board on Thursday, when it was arranged that negotiations should, if possible, be immediately concluded with the authorities of the Fever Hospital for the erection of a temporary building on the land belonging to the hospital, capable of containing sixty beds, that being the maximum addition for which there is room. It was also arranged that the managers should proceed immediately to enter into a provisional contract for the erection of another temporary building on one of the sites belonging to them, in case, as appears very probable, it should be found that further accommodation is afterwards required.

The re-appearance in this country of relapsing fever is a phenomenon which might have posited a moral if we had lately been indulging in boastfulness about our riches and prosperity. The wealthiest city in the world is threatened by a disease which implies chronic poverty, and is popularly known as “famine” fever. It is probably not indigenous in this island, but it certainly never makes way unless it finds conditions favourable to its progress. It searches out the weak and sickly in a population. Poland may be its birthplace; but the East-and of London would afford it no asylum if it did not find the same sort of grazing ground in Whitechapel as in the East of Europe. There is a moral as well as a physical element in it. It is not the bare want of food, but the hopelessness of earning food, which prepares the way for the fever’s ravages. Where body and mind are alike depressed, is its proper home. It is not easily dislodged, but it spreads over a wide extent of country. It ordinarily does not take away life, but it makes life seem not worth having, and it opens the door to mortal diseases.

Yesterday, Dr. Lankester held two inquests at the College Arms, Crowndale-road, Camden-town, in cases bearing upon the administration of relief to the sick in St. Pancras workhouse. Several members of the new Board of Guardians were present, for the purpose of taking part in the proceedings should any evidence be given affecting them as a board. The first inquiry was on the body of Esther Wright, an infant, three weeks old, which was born in the workhouse, and whose mother prematurely left the house in consequence partly, as she alleged, of a neglect on the part of the workhouse authorities to supply the child with necessary nourishment. Sarah Wright, having been sworn, said she was confined in the workhouse. She was married. She left last Tuesday morning of her own accord. She was asked to stop longer on account of the child, but left because she thought it required more nourishment than she could get in the house. She told the doctor and Mrs. Sanson on Sunday last that she had no milk to give the child, but they did not give her any till Monday night. She only got it then because the child cried so. She asked for milk at six o’clock on Monday evening, but did not get it till ten. Coroner—That is a distinct charge against the workhouse authorities. Witness—When I went out I got the child milk and port wine. I went for Dr. Harding, but he did not order anything, because the child was too far gone. Mr. Thomas Marsey Harding, surgeon, said—I was called on Wednesday last. The child was dying when I saw it. It was a very feeble child, and much emaciated. There were no marks of violence. It was clean and properly attended to on the part of the mother. I opened the body. There was dense congestion of the brain and of the lungs. The right side of the heart was glutted. Both sides contained black blood. The stomach contained milk and port wine. There was no sign of poison. There was plenty of chyle in the stomach. The cause of death was congestion of the brain and lungs. Coroner—Is it your impression that there was any neglect on the part of the mother? Witness—No; it was a disease of debility, which might have come on naturally in a feeble child, even if it were properly attended to. By a Juror—Port wine would not have brought this passive kind of congestion on. Susan Sanson, resident midwife of the workhouse, swore, in opposition to the mother of deceased, that the child had milk given it twice last Monday. She also said it was a “miserable little thing from its birth,” and “she never expected it to live.” Sarah Wright, recalled, denied that the child had milk twice on Monday. Milk was asked for at six in the evening, and was not obtained till 10, Susan Sanson re-called, said the mothers in the lying-in ward could have milk for their children when they liked. Mary Ann Brant, who appeared at one time to have been a very intelligent woman, but who is now extremely feeble in mind and body, said she was the nurse who supplied the milk to Sarah Wright twice on Monday. The Coroner said Sarah Wright had not substantiated the charge of neglect against the authorities, and the only consideration was whether she had any hand in the death of the child by going out before she ought. She gave it some port wine, and it was a question whether she did not give it too much; but Mr. Harding could not say she had. (Mr. Harding: No.) It was rather an early age to begin giving a child alcohol, and the mother ought not to have done it without the advice of a medical man. The Foreman of the Jury to Mrs. Sanson—How many patients have you to look after? Mrs. Sanson—We are rather slack now. I have 12 mothers and their infants at the present moment. Foreman—Are there any others besides the woman Brant to assist you? Witness—Yes, there are three others. Juror—I think our parish should put a more able person to wait upon the poor creatures in the lying-in ward than this aged and decrepit woman (Brant). If they are all like her I should not wonder at patients being unattended to. Witness, by Mr. Watkins, a guardian.—This woman has no laborious work to perform. Juror—The mother swore she did not get the milk till 10 o’clock at night, although she asked for it at six; and it struck me that if this was the old woman who had attended on her it was very likely to be as she stated. Mr. Smith, a guardian, said the midwife could have any assistance she liked, and if she did not have enough it was her own fault. A verdict of “Death from natural causes” was returned.

The second case was that of George Edwards, an aged inmate of the insane ward. Margaret Edwards, a very aged and infirm woman, said she was the widow of deceased. They had been in the workhouse 12 months last June. Coroner—Did they separate you? Witness—Oh, yes sir. Coroner—Oh, yes! But there is a law which says you should not be separated; and it is a much higher law than guardians’ law. Witness proceeded to say she saw her husband once a week. He always knew her, and would not hurt her. Mr. Blake, the master of the house, was very kind to them. She saw her husband alive for the last time on Wednesday week last, Robert Hunter, a helper in the insane ward, very tersely described the sudden death as it took place on Monday last. He said: “All of a sudden he threw himself back, and went off.” Dr. Ellis said death was caused by the rupture of a large vessel in the chest. A verdict of “Death from natural causes” was returned.

Nov

On Monday, Dr. Lankester held an inquest at the Bull’s Head Inn, Tottenham-court-road, on the body of Michael Murphy, aged thirty-two, who had died in the infirmary of St. Pancras workhouse.

The case in itself was of a simple character, but as it involved the whole question of the treatment of the sick poor in the infirmary of St. Pancras workhouse—whether that infirmary is or is not sufficient for the wants of the parish, and whether even the large number of inquests which have been lately held on persons dying therein have not been rendered necessary by the acceleration of death from overcrowding—the inquiry was one of the highest importance.

The Coroner briefly explained the circumstances under which the case had come to his knowledge by a letter from the clerk to the board of guardians. It appeared that Michael Murphy, a costermonger, had been suffering from pulmonary consumption, and had been under the treatment of Mr. Barnes, one of the out-door medical officers, for some four or five weeks. Finding he was in the last stage, and that the house in which he resided, in Little Pancras-street, Tottenham-court-road, contained nine rooms, inhabited by twenty-seven persons, and that typhus fever was in the house, he ordered his removal, on Tuesday, the 2nd instant, to the workhouse infirmary. He was admitted about four o’clock, and was seen by Dr. Ellis, who prescribed for him, and placed him in No. 11—the men’s medical ward. He appeared better next morning, when seen about eight o’clock; but about half-past nine, when the doctor went his rounds, he had so changed as to appear dying. His friends were then sent for, and he died about twelve o’clock.

Dr. Ellis was sworn, and after stating the history of the case, in answer to a question from the coroner, said: I think his death was accelerated by the foul state of the atmosphere of the ward of the infirmary in which he was placed from overcrowding. On the day and night he was in it there were twenty-eight beds in it, and nine sleeping on the floor on mattresses, making thirty-seven patients in the ward. I think the length of the ward is seventy-four feet, twenty-one feet wide, and twelve feet high, which would give about 250 cubic feet of air to each patient, which is not half the amount required by the Poor-law Board. When patients are sent to us we are obliged to take them in. As Mr. Solly and another independent medical gentleman can give evidence on this point I should prefer you to hear them.

The Coroner remarked that he had no power to call or pay any other medical witnesses; but if Mr. Solly volunteered any evidence as to the cause of death he would hear him.

Mr. Samuel Solly sworn: I am the president of the Royal College of Surgeons, senior surgeon of St. Thomas’s Hospital, and F R S. I visited the St. Pancras Infirmary on the 4th inst., at half-past nine in the evening. I went over the whole infirmary, and amongst others No. 11, or male medical ward. I have been over and through the foulest of wards in hospitals and other institutions, but I never, in the whole course of my professional experience, entered so foul a place. I never experienced a stench so beastly in all my life arising from foul atmosphere. I should say that this disgusting foulness of atmosphere arose mainly from the want of ventilation, as well as the large number of patients there were in the ward. There were twenty-eight beds, and nine sleeping on the floor.

Dr. Brudenell Carter, fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, who accompanied Mr. Solly on his visit, corroborated the whole of his statements.

After considerable discussion the following special verdict was returned:—“That Michael Murphy died from consumption, accelerated by the unwholesome atmosphere of the ward in which he was placed in the workhouse. The jury also requested the guardians to direct their attention to the state of the receiving ward.”