Part One CHAPTER ONE Before the Trial

My Arrest

Slowly consciousness returned. I opened my eyes. The room was in darkness. All was still. Suddenly the silence was broken by the bang of a closing door which startled me out of my stupor. Where was I? Why was I alone? What awful thing had happened? A flash of memory! My husband was dead! I drifted once more away from the things of sense. Then a voice, as if a long way off, spoke. A feeling of pain and distress shot through my body. I opened my eyes in terror. Edwin Maybrick was bending over me as I lay upon my bed. He had my arms tightly gripped, and was[24] shaking me violently. “I want your keys—do you hear? Where are your keys?” he exclaimed harshly. I tried to form a reply, but the words choked me, and once more I passed into unconsciousness.

It is the dawn of a Sabbath day.[1] I am still lying in my clothes, neglected and uncared for; without food since the morning of the day before. Consciousness came and went. During one of these interludes Michael Maybrick entered.

“Nurse,” he said, “I am going up to London. Mrs. Maybrick is no longer mistress of this house. As one of the executors I forbid you to allow her to leave this room. I hold you responsible in my absence.”

He then left the room. What did he mean? How dare he humble me thus in the presence of a stranger?

Toward the night of the same day I said to the nurse, “I wish to see my children.” She took no notice. My voice was weak,[25] and I thought perhaps she had not heard. “Nurse,” I repeated, “I want to see my children.” She walked up to my bed, and in a cold, deliberate voice replied: “You can not see Master James and Miss Gladys. Mr. Michael Maybrick gave orders that they were to leave the house without seeing you.” I fell back upon my pillow, dazed and stricken, weak, helpless, and impotent. Why was I treated thus? My brain reeled in seeking a reply to this query. At last I could bear it no longer, and my soul cried out to God to let me die. A third dreary night, and the day broke once again. I was still prostrate. The dull pain at my heart, the yearning for my little children, was becoming unbearable, but I was dumb.

Suddenly the door opened and Dr. Humphreys entered. He walked silently to my bedside, felt my pulse, and without a word left the room. A few minutes later I heard the tramp of many feet coming up-stairs. They stopped at the door. The[26] nurse advanced, and a crowd of men entered. One of them stepped to the foot of the bed and addressed me as follows:

“Mrs. Maybrick, I am superintendent of the police, and I am about to say something to you. After I have said what I intend to say, if you reply be careful how you reply, because whatever you say may be used as evidence against you. Mrs. Maybrick, you are in custody on suspicion of causing the death of your late husband, James Maybrick, on the eleventh instant.” I made no reply, and the crowd passed out.
A Prisoner in My Own House

Was I going mad? Did I hear myself accused of poisoning my husband? Why did not his brothers, who said they had his confidence, tell the police what all his intimate friends knew, that he was an arsenic eater? Why was I accused—I, who had nursed him assiduously day and night until[27] my strength gave out, who had engaged trained nurses, and advised a consultation of physicians, and had done all that lay in my power to aid in his recovery? To whom could I appeal in my extreme distress? I lay ill and confined to my bed, with two professional nurses attending me, and with a policeman stationed in my room, although there was not and could not be the slightest chance of my escaping. The officer would not permit the door to be closed day or night, and I was denied in my own house, even before the inquest, the privacy accorded to a convicted prisoner. I asked that a cablegram be sent to my lawyers in New York. Inspector Baxendale read it, and then said he did not consider it of importance and should not send it. I then implored Dr. Humphreys to ask a friendly lawyer, Mr. R. S. Cleaver, of Liverpool, to come out to see me. After some delay Mr. Cleaver obtained a permit to enter the house and undertook to represent me.

The fourth day came and went. On the fifth day, May 16, the stillness of the house was broken by the sound of hushed voices and hurrying footsteps. “Nurse,” I exclaimed, when I could no longer bear the feeling of oppression that possessed me, “is anything the matter?” She turned, and in a cold, harsh voice replied, “The funeral starts in an hour.” “Whose funeral?” I asked. “Your husband’s,” the nurse exclaimed; “but for you he would have been buried on Tuesday.” I stared at her for a moment, and then, trembling from head to foot, got out of bed and commenced with weak hands to dress myself. The nurse looked alarmed, and came forward. “Stand back!” I cried. “I will see my husband before he is taken away.” She placed herself in front of me; I pushed her aside and confronted the policeman at the door. “I demand to see my husband,” I exclaimed. “The law does not permit a person to be treated as guilty until she is proven so.”

He hesitated, and then said, “Follow me.” With tottering steps, supported by the nurse, I was led into the adjoining room. Upon the bed stood the coffin, covered with white flowers. It was already closed. I turned to the policeman and the nurse. “Leave me alone with the dead.” They refused. I then knelt down at the bedside, and God in His mercy spared my reason by granting me, there and then, the first tears which many days of suffering had failed to bring. Death had wiped out the memory of many things. I was thankful to remember that I had stopped divorce proceedings, and that we had become reconciled for the children’s sake. Calmed, I arose and returned to my room. I sat down near a window, still weeping. Suddenly the harsh voice of a nurse broke on my ears: “If you wish to see the last of the husband you have poisoned you had better stand up. The funeral has started.” I stumbled to my feet and clutched at the window-sill, where I stood rigid and tearless[30] until the hearse had passed, and was out of sight, and then I fainted.

When I recovered consciousness I asked why my mother had not been sent for. No answer was made, but a tardy summons was sent to her at Paris. When she arrived she came to me at once. What a meeting! She kissed me, and was speaking a few loving words in French, when the nurse interposed and said, “You must speak in English,” and the policeman joined in with “I warn you, madam, that I will write down all you say,” and he produced paper and pencil. I then begged my mother to go into Liverpool to see the Messrs. Cleaver, who represented me, as they would give her all the information she required; and then I cried out in the bitterness of my heart, “Mother, they all believe me guilty, but I swear to you I am innocent.” That night I had a violent attack of hysteria. Two nurses and the policeman held me down, and when my mother, outraged by his presence, wished[31] to take his place and send him from the room, Nurse Wilson became insolent and turned her out.
At Walton Jail

The next morning, Saturday, the 18th of May, Dr. Hopper and Dr. Humphreys visited me, to ascertain whether I was in a condition to permit of formal proceedings taking place in my bedroom. In a few minutes they gave their consent. The magistrates and others then came up-stairs.

There were present Colonel Bidwell, Mr. Swift (clerk), Superintendent Bryning, and my lawyers, the Messrs. Cleaver, Dr. Hopper, and Dr. Humphreys. I was fully conscious, but too prostrate to make any movement. Besides those in the room, there were seated outside the policeman and the nurse. Superintendent Bryning, who had taken up his position at the foot of the bed, said: “This person is Mrs. Maybrick, charged with causing the death[32] of the late James Maybrick. She is charged with causing his death by administering poison to him. I understand that her consent is given to a remand, and therefore I need not introduce nor give evidence.”

Mr. Swift: “You ask for a remand for eight days?”

Mr. Arnold Cleaver: “I appear for the prisoner.”

Colonel Bidwell: “Very well; I consent to a remand. That is all.”

These gentlemen then departed. The police were in such a hurry to prefer the formal charge, they could not wait until the doctors should certify that I was in a fit state to be taken to the court in the ordinary way. The nurse then told me I must get up and dress. I prayed that my children might be sent for to bid me good-by—but I was peremptorily refused. I begged to gather together some necessary personal apparel, only to meet with another refusal. I was hurried away with such unseemly haste,[33] that even my hand-bag with my toilet articles was left behind. My mother implored to be allowed to say good-by, but was denied. She had gone up to her bedroom, so she tells me, which looked out on the front, to try and see my face as they put me in the carriage, when they turned the key and locked her in. After I had gone a policeman unlocked the door.

THE LATE DR. HELEN DENSMORE,
An American advocate of Mrs. Maybrick’s innocence.

After a two hours’ drive we arrived at Walton Jail, in the suburbs of Liverpool. I shuddered as I looked at the tall, gloomy building. A bell was ringing, and the big iron gates swung back and allowed us to pass in. I was received by the governor and immediately led away by a female warder. We crossed a small courtyard and stopped at a door which she unlocked and relocked. Then we passed down a narrow passage to a door that led into a dark, gloomy room termed the “Reception.” A bench ran along each side, a bare wooden table stood in the middle, a weighing-machine by the door, with a foot measure beside[34] it. A female warder asked me to give up any valuables in my possession. These consisted of a watch, two diamond rings, and a brooch. They were entered in a book. Then I was asked to stand upon the weighing-machine, and my weight was duly noted. These formalities completed, I was led through a building into a cell especially set apart for sick prisoners. The escort locked me in, and, utterly exhausted, stricken with a sense of horror and degradation, I sank upon the stone floor, reiterating, until consciousness left me, “Oh, my God, help me—help me!”
Alone

When I opened my eyes I was in bed and alone. I gazed around. At the bedside was a chair with a china cup containing milk, and a plate of bread upon it. The cell was bare. The light struggled in dimly through a dirty, barred window. The stillness was appalling, and I felt benumbed—a[35] sense of terrible oppression weighed me down. If only I could hear once more the sound of a friendly voice! If only some one would tell whose diabolical mind had conceived and directed suspicion against me!

I remained in the cell three days, when my lawyer visited me. He arranged that I was to have a room especially set apart for prisoners awaiting trial who can afford to pay five shillings ($1.25) weekly, for the additional comfort of a table, an arm-chair, and a wash-stand. Had I not been able to do so I should have been consigned to an ordinary prison cell, and my diet would have been the same as that of convicted prisoners. Instead, my food was sent from a hotel outside. I was locked in this room for twenty-two hours out of the twenty-four. The only time I was permitted to leave it was for chapel in the morning and an hour’s exercise in the afternoon in the prison yard. The stillness, unbroken by any sound from the outside world, got on my[36] nerves, and I wanted to scream, if only to hear my own voice. The unnatural confinement, without any one to speak to, was torture. The governor, the doctor, and the chaplain, it is true, came around every morning, but their visits were of such short duration, and so formal in their nature, that it was impossible to derive much relief from conversation with them.
The Coroner’s Inquest

On the 28th of May the Coroner’s inquest was held, but I was not well enough to attend. I was represented by my legal advisers. On the 3d of June I was still too ill to appear before the court. Mr. W. S. Barrett, as magistrate, accompanied by Mr. Swift, the clerk, held a Magisterial Court at Walton Jail. Mr. R. S. Cleaver did not attend, having consented to the police obtaining another remand for a week. Only one newspaper reporter was allowed to be present. I was accompanied to the visitors[37]’ room by a female warder, and silently took a seat at the foot of a long table. I was quite composed. Superintendent Bryning rose from his seat at the end of the room and said:

“This person, sir, is Mrs. Maybrick, who is charged with the murder of her husband, at Aigburth, on the 11th of last month. I have to ask that you remand her until Wednesday next.”

Mr. Swift: “Mr. Cleaver, her solicitor, has sent me a note in which he consents to a remand until Wednesday.”

Mr. Barrett: “If there is no objection she will be remanded until Wednesday morning.”
A Plank for a Bed

The magistrate then signed the document authorizing the remand, and I withdrew. On the 5th of June the adjourned inquest was held, and I was taken from jail at half-past eight in the morning to the[38] Coroner’s Court in a cab, accompanied by Dr. O’Hagan, a female attendant, and a policeman. I was taken into the ante-room for the purpose of being identified by the witnesses for the prosecution. I was not taken into court, but at three o’clock Mr. Holbrook Gaskell, a magistrate, attended for the purpose of granting another remand, pending the result of the inquest, and again no evidence was given in my presence. I was taken to the county police station, Lark Lane. I passed the night in a cell which contained only a plank board as a bed. It was dark, damp, dirty, and horrible. A policeman, taking pity on me, brought me a blanket to lie on. In the adjoining cell, in a state of intoxication, two men were raving and cursing throughout the night. I had no light—there was no one to speak to. I was kept there three days, until the coroner’s jury had returned their verdict. A greengrocer near by, named Mrs. Pretty, to whom I had occasionally given orders for fruit, sent me in a[39] daily gift of her best with a note of sympathy—a deed all the more striking in its generosity and nobleness, since the charity of none other of my own sex had reached to that degree of justice to regard me as innocent until proven guilty.
The Verdict of the Coroner’s Jury

On the 6th of June I was again driven to Garston to hear the coroner’s verdict. There was an elaborate array of lawyers, reporters, and witnesses, as well as many spectators.

I waited in the ante-room until the coroner’s jury had summed up. The jury consisted mostly of gentlemen who at one time had been guests in my own house. Of all former friends present, there was only one who had the moral courage to approach me and shake my hand. Throughout the time I sat awaiting the call to appear before the coroner he remained beside me, speaking words of encouragement. But the[40] others, who, without a word of evidence in my defense, had already judged and condemned me, passed by on the other side, for had they not already judged and condemned me?

When my name was called a dead hush pervaded the court, and the coroner said:

“Have you agreed upon your verdict, gentlemen?”

The Foreman: “We have.”

Q. “Do you find that death resulted from the administration of an irritant poison?”

A. “Unanimously.”

Q. “Do you say by whom that poison was administered?”

A. “By twelve to one we decide that the poison was administered by Mrs. Maybrick.”

Q. “Do you find that the poison was administered with the intent of taking life?”

A. “Twelve of us have come to that conclusion.”

The Coroner: “That amounts to a verdict of murder.”

Then the requisition was made out in the following terms:

“That James Maybrick, on the 11th of May, 1889, in the township of Garston, died from the effects of an irritant poison administered to him by Florence Elizabeth Maybrick, and so the jurors say: that the said Florence Elizabeth Maybrick did wilfully, feloniously, and of malice aforethought kill and murder the said James Maybrick.”

I was then driven back to the Lark Lane Police Station, locked up, and remained the night. The next day I was returned to Walton Jail. How shall I describe my feelings? Mere words are utterly inadequate to do so. Not only was my sense of justice and fair play outraged, but it seemed to me a frightful danger to personal safety if the police, on the mere gossip of servants, and where a doctor had been unable to assign the cause of death, could go into a[42] home and take an inmate into custody in the way I have shown.

On the 13th of June I was brought before the magistrates, and for the first time evidence was given in my presence. I had been driven over to the court-house the evening before, and had passed the night there in charge of a policeman’s daughter, who remained in the room with me. Her father kept watch on the other side of the door. That night, on going to bed, as I knelt weary and lonely to say my prayers, I felt a hand on my shoulder and a tearful voice said, softly, “Let me hold your hand, Mrs. Maybrick, and let me say my prayers with you.” A simple expression of sympathy, but it meant so much to me at such a time.
The Doctors Disagree

At half-past eight I was taken to a room adjoining the court, where, in charge of a female warder and a policeman, I awaited my call. I then passed into the court, where[43] two magistrates, Sir William B. Forwood and Mr. W. S. Barrett, sat officially to hear the evidence. When the testimony had been given the court adjourned.

When I rose to leave the court, in order to reach the door, I had to meet face to face well-dressed women spectators at the back, and the moment I turned around these started hissing me. The presiding justice immediately shouted to the officer on duty to shut the door, while the burly figures of several policemen, who moved toward the hostile spectators, effectually put an end to the outburst. It was amid such scenes, and this sort of preparation for my ordeal, that on the following day, the 14th of June, the Magisterial Inquiry was resumed, and the evidence connected with the charge of murder gone into. On conclusion of the testimony the magistrates retired, and after a brief consultation returned into court.

Sir William Forwood: “Our opinion is that this is a case which ought to be decided by jury.”

Mr. Pickford (my counsel): “If that is clearly the opinion of the Bench I shall not occupy their time by going into the defense now, because I understand, whatever defense may be put forward, the Bench may think it right for a jury to decide.”

The Chairman: “Yes, we think so.”

I was then ordered to stand up and was formally charged in the usual manner.

I replied: “I reserve my defense.”

Sir William Forwood made answer: “Florence Elizabeth Maybrick, it is our duty to commit you to take your trial at the ensuing Assizes for wilful murder of the late James Maybrick.”

I was then remanded into custody.

I found it difficult to understand why these magistrates committed me to trial for murder on that evidence. There was certainly not sufficient evidence that the cause of death was arsenic. The doctors could not say so. No arsenic had been found by the analyst in the stomach, the appearance of which at the post-mortem, Dr. Humphreys[45] said, was “consistent” with either poisoning or ordinary congestion of the stomach; but, after examination, a minute quantity of arsenic, certainly not enough to cause death, was detected in the liver, the appearance of which, Dr. Humphreys said, showed no evidence of any irritant poison. On this point Dr. Carter agreed with Dr. Humphreys, “but in a more positive manner,” while Dr. Barron did not exactly agree with Dr. Carter.

The analyst had found both arsenic and “traces” of arsenic, in some bottles and things which had been found in the house after death, as to which, where they came from, or who had put them there, no one had any knowledge. This is the evidence upon which I was committed. Justice Stephen, in addressing the grand jury, even thus early showed a predisposition against me, due at this time, no doubt, to the sensational reports in the press. A true bill was found, and I was brought to trial before him on the 31st of July.

Letters from Walton Jail

The six weeks intervening before my trial were very terrible. The mental strain was incessant, and I suffered much from insomnia. The stress and confinement were telling on my health, as was the separation from my children. I insert here two extracts from letters, written by me, from Walton Jail. One is to my mother, dated the 21st of July, 1889, a few days before my trial:

“I am not feeling very well. This fearful strain and the necessity for continued self-control is beginning to tell upon me. But I am not in the least afraid. I shall show composure, dignity and fortitude to the last.”

The following is an extract from a letter I wrote to a friend on June 27, before my trial on July 31:

“I have made my peace with God. I have forgiven unreservedly all those who have ruined and forsaken me. To-morrow I partake of the Holy Communion with a[47] clear conscience, and I place my faith in God’s mercy.

“God give me strength is my constant prayer. I feel so lonely—as if every hand were against me. To think that for three or four days I must be unveiled before all those uncharitable eyes. You can not think how awful it appears to me. So far the ordeal has been all anticipation; then it will be stern reality—which always braces the nerves and courage.

“I have seen in the Liverpool Post the judge’s address on the prosecution to the jury, and it is enough to appal the stoutest heart. I hear the police are untiring and getting up the case against me regardless of expense.

“Pray for me, my friend, for the darkest days of my life are now to be lived through. I trust in God’s justice, whatever I may be in the sight of man.”
Lord Russell’s Opinion

I received many visits from my lawyers, the Messrs. Cleaver, and just before the trial one from my leading counsel, Sir[48] Charles Russell, later Lord Russell of Killowen, Lord Chief Justice of England. The following statement made by him relative to this visit may interest my readers:

“I will make no public statement of what my personal belief is as to Mrs. Maybrick’s guilt or innocence, but I will tell you, who have stood by her all these years, that, perplexed with the instructions in the brief, I took what was an unusual step: I went to see her in prison before her trial, and questioned her there to the best of my ability for the purpose of getting the truth out of her. During the whole seven days of her trial I made careful observation of her demeanor, and since her imprisonment I have availed myself of my judicial right to visit her at Aylesbury Prison; and, making the best use of such opportunities of arriving at a just conclusion about her own self-consciousness, I decided in my own mind that it never for a moment entered her mind to do any bodily injury to her husband. On the last occasion that I saw her I told her so, as I felt it would and did give the poor woman some comfort.”

Copyright by W. & D. Downey, London

LORD CHARLES RUSSELL, Q.C.,
Late Lord Chief Justice of England, Mrs. Maybrick’s counsel.

The Public Condemns Me Unheard

The day preceding my trial found me calm in spirit, and in a measure prepared for the awful ordeal before me. Up to that time I had shown a composure that astonished every one. Indeed, some went so far as to say I was without feeling. Perhaps I was toward their kind. I would have responded to sympathy, but never to distrust. At that time I was suspected by all—or, rather, people were not sufficiently just to content themselves with suspicions; they condemned me outright, and, unheard, struck at a weak, defenseless woman; and this upon what is now generally admitted to have been insufficient evidence to sustain the indictment.