Greenacre (in a husky, but firm tone) said—“My Lord, my unhappy condition in this unfortunate affair has given rise to abundance of evidence against me, such as might be collected in any pot-house or gin-shop, owing to the reports spread abroad to my prejudice, upon which the jurymen have acted. It is contrary to reason and common sense to suppose that I should have meditated the death of the woman, much less that I should effect it in the manner described, because of the property she had. If that had been my object, I could have had it all on the next morning, when our marriage was to have taken place, and then it would have been mine. What, then, was my motive for murdering of her? It is—”
The Recorder.—“This is all very proper matter to have been urged by your counsel at the trial, but should not be pressed upon the Court now. The only question now is, as to the matter of law. If there are the slightest grounds for questioning the verdict of the jury, your only course is to apply to the Secretary of State, the Court having no power of itself to interfere. Have you anything more to say?”
Greenacre.—“In the next place, my lord, I beg to say that this woman was utterly ignorant of the affair up to the time of my being taken to the police-office. She had no knowledge whatever of it, and is as innocent as any lady or gentleman in this court. This I say, as I am going into my grave—that she is innocent. I invited her back to the house after the body was removed, and she never knew anything of it. I deem it a religious duty to exculpate her from having any concern in this unfortunate affair. I have no more to say.”
The Recorder.—“I shall make the same observation to you, Gale, that I have just addressed to the other prisoner. If there be any ground for a further inquiry into your case, you must apply to the Secretary of State, who will exercise his best discretion upon the subject, under the advice of the responsible officers of the crown.”
The prisoner Gale was then led to a chair at the back of the dock, and the usual proclamation for silence, preparatory to the passing of the sentence of death, having been made,—
The Recorder, in a solemn and impressive tone, proceeded to address the male prisoner in the following words:—“James Greenacre, after a protracted trial, which endured for two entire days, upon a patient and impartial investigation of all the circumstances connected with your case, a jury of your country have found themselves inevitably compelled to find you guilty of the dreadful offence for which you were indicted. You have been convicted upon evidence, indeed the most satisfactory, of the crime of wilful murder. The appalling details of your dreadful case must be fresh in the recollection of all who now hear my voice, and will long live in the memory and (may I not add?) in the execration of mankind; and generations yet to come will shudder at your guilt. You have, indeed, acquired for yourself a revolting celebrity: an odious notoriety in the annals of cruelty and crime. The means to which you were prompted to resort, in order to conceal the mangled and dismembered portions of your victim, were for a season attended with partial success. You disposed of her remains, as you thought, in places secure from discovery, but that course availed you not; for after a short interval accumulated evidence and irrefragable proofs of your guilty contrivance became apparent. The amputated limbs and the dissevered body were united to the bloodless head of the murdered woman, and every injury by you inflicted after death has afforded the means of proving by comparison, beyond doubt, that the wound on the eye was inflicted by you while your victim was in life, and strength, and health. Horrible and revolting to humanity as was the spectacle presented by the mutilated trunk and mangled remains, fresh details and discoveries suggested both the means and manner by which you accomplished the destruction of the deceased. Both surgical skill and medical science came to the assistance of common observation; and it was clearly and beyond all doubt demonstrated that the wounds on the eye and skull were sufficient to produce death; and it was still further proved, that while the blood was yet in a fluid state, and circulating through the veins and arteries, you accomplished your horrible object, by severing the head from the body. Stupor of the senses and suspended animation were the effect of your blows; and then you embrued your hands in the gushing life’s-blood of the wretched and unhappy being who was stretched senseless and unconscious at your feet. The still warm corpse was then barbarously mutilated and mangled by you, in the hope that the eye of man would not detect your guilt: but the eye of God was upon you. The natural disgust and horror which your conduct in this respect excites, compels me to throw a veil over the frightful and appalling particulars of that hideous scene. But even that scene, revolting as it is, may be useful in a moral point of view, for it shows how the hand of Providence points out the guilty, and proves both the means of detection and the certainty of punishment. The certain but unseen agency of Providence is exhibited in the development of the peculiar and complicated circumstances of your case. The curiosity excited, the alarm produced, and the peculiarity of each succeeding discovery of the mangled members of the body, and the seemingly impenetrable mystery in which the circumstances of such a murder were shrouded, all conspired to awaken suspicion, renew inquiry, and incite to fresh exertion, until at last the mystery was developed by the family of the deceased. The embalmed head was identified, the name of the murdered woman came to light, and sufficient evidence was produced to point out you as the author of her death, and bring you before the tribunal of public justice. The circumstances attending the discovery of this murder lead to the inevitable conclusion that neither cunning nor ferocity can shelter and secure a murderer; for although the crime may be hidden for a time—although delays may occur, and the mystery of the transaction almost preclude the hope of its discovery, yet the all-seeing eye of God is cognizant of the deed, and man becomes the agent of its discovery. Indeed, instances of escape from such a crime are so rare, that the detection is almost as sure as the punishment is certain. It is plain from the attention with which I perceive you are listening to what I now say, that I am addressing an individual not devoid of education, of reasoning faculties, and strength of mind. The occasion you must indeed be aware is, as regards yourself, standing where you do, and under the circumstances in which you are placed, awful and solemn to the last degree, both as regards your fate in this world and the world to come. I will not draw arguments from my own feeble resources alone, to endeavour to induce and implore you to repent before it is too late. Let me, then, before I proceed to pass upon you the dreadful sentence, entreat you to consider well your past life, and the chances which await you in the life which is to come. In making this last appeal, in attempting to revive within your breast the last remaining sparks of virtue and religion, let me refer you to an extract which I am about to read to you from an excellent work, called ‘The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed.’ I have selected the passage because I think it may be applicable to your present state of mind, and because the sentiments it conveys are far better than I could ever hope to address to you from my own resources. The passage is as follow:—‘Indeed,’ says the learned author, ‘when one has been recollecting the proper proofs of a future state of rewards and punishment, nothing, methinks, can give one so sensible an apprehension of the latter or representation of it to the mind, as observing the many disregard-checks, admonitions, and warnings which people meet with in the ways of vice and folly, and extravagance—warnings from their very nature, from the example of others, from the lesser inconveniences which they bring upon themselves—from the instruction of wise and virtuous men; after these had been so long despised, scorned, ridiculed—after the chief bad consequences, temporal consequences of their follies, have been delayed for a great while, at length they break in irresistibly like an armed force—repentance is too late to relieve, and can serve only to aggravate their distress: the case is become desperate, and poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, infamy and death—the effects of their own doings—overwhelm them beyond the possibility of remedy or escape.’ The limits of time and the span of this present life furnish no obstacles in the way of a repentant sinner. Turn, therefore, I implore you, with an humble and penitent heart, to the source of all hope and mercy—the blessed Redeemer of mankind, and employ the brief interval which is yet left you on this side of eternity in penitence and prayer, as the only means of obtaining that mercy hereafter which the laws of God and man deny to you in this world. It now only remains for me to pass upon you the dreadful sentence of the law; and that sentence is, that you be taken from hence to the prison from which you came, and from thence to a place of execution, where you shall be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and that your body be then buried within the precincts of the jail; and may the Lord God Almighty take compassion on your sinful soul.”
The learned Recorder towards the end of this address was sensibly affected; and he could scarcely give utterance to the concluding words.
The prisoner Greenacre remained apparently unmoved, but he listened with attention, and never once changed his position or relaxed a muscle. He was then led back, and
Gale was brought forward to receive her sentence.
The Recorder said—“Sarah Gale, I will not aggravate the sufferings which you must now endure with any observations tending to increase those sufferings. The unhappy man who a short time ago stood beside you at that bar has declared that you had no guilty knowledge of the transaction in which he was involved. I cannot but observe, however, with regard to that remark, that you had united yourself to him, sharing his society and bed, and comforting, assisting, and sheltering him, without being joined to him by any moral or religious tie. As he has stated that you were ignorant of the dreadful transaction, I think it right to remind you that the ear-rings found in your pocket had belonged to the unfortunate woman who had been slaughtered by his hands; that duplicates of property which belonged to her were also found in your possession; and that in an adjoining room a box was found, proved to have been hers, besides other property. I cannot, therefore, as at present advised, entertain any doubt but that the verdict of the jury in your case was well and justly grounded. How far your attachment to the prisoner induced you to continue your intercourse with him, notwithstanding his possession of the property of the deceased under circumstances which I should think must at least have excited suspicion on your mind, it is not for me to judge. Perhaps you considered that what had been done could not be undone; but whatever feeling actuated your conduct in connexion with the circumstances of the case, I feel that I am bound to pass upon you the full sentence directed by the act of parliament; and if upon further investigation of your case, should you be disposed to apply to the Secretary of State for a revision of your sentence, any favourable circumstances should arise, that matter will be considered and disposed of by the competent authorities. At present I have only to pronounce upon you the sentence of the law; and that sentence is, and this Court do adjudge, that you be transported beyond the sea to such place as His Majesty, with the advice of his privy council, shall direct and appoint, for the term of your natural life.”