Now as regards the suspicions that Henry and you seem to entertain of his brother's death, I did not share them. I felt, and still feel, extremely obliged to Mrs Palmer for her tenderness to mc which could not have been greater if I had been a relative of her own. Consider how shocking it would appear, without some proof more than mere surmises, to accuse anyone of a foul crime which your letter more than hints at. If your mind is not easy, go over yourself and make inquiries; but pause before you do anything to render Mrs Palmer so uneasy as such a dreadful charge must make her. Think what in such a case your own wife's feelings would be, and consider mine. That Mr Palmer has acted unjustly in money matters I have good reason to believe. His letters I have placed in the hands of the Brewery firm and, if they think proper, and there are sufficient grounds, they will no doubt investigate the matter.
Thanking you and Mrs Bostock for your kind invitation, of which I shall be happy to avail myself, allow me to subscribe myself your sincere friend,
E. J. Bladon
No investigation was, in fact, made. We believe that an autopsy would have sustained Dr Bamford's diagnosis; also, that the lost money would have been traced to the possession of another than Dr Palmer.
Annie Palmer's position was by no means to be envied. She had, it is true, the affection of a husband who did not stint his generosity towards her, and loved her with passion; but he was now often away, attending race- meetings in different parts of the country, and could be expected home, for certain, only on Sundays. He never failed to attend divine service at St Augustine's, though he might have to travel fifty miles by railway train and fly, in order to reach Rugeley on Saturday night. Miss Salt had not cooled towards her in affection, and neither had Mrs Edwin Salt; she had, however, no other close friends, Mr Dawson having expunged her from the list of his intimates since the marriage. Worse, she was pregnant every year, and with unfailing regularity every child of hers died within a month or two of birth. An unfortunate remark of Dr Palmer's now went the rounds: that a growing family would be too great a charge on his slender purse, and that he could not altogether blame Providence for having cut short the lives of little Elizabeth, Henry and Frank. They all, it appears, died in convulsions.
After the death of John, the fourth child, who died on January 30th, 1854, Mrs Bradshaw, the help, rushed into The Bell next door and shocked the customers who were nodding over their ale and talking sagely about women and horses—their two main subjects of conversation—'I'll never go back to that house no more. That wretch has done away another of his children!'
Pressed to explain what method of infanticide Dr Palmer used, she declared: 'Why, he smears poison on his little finger and then dips it in honey and gives it to the poor innocent to suck.'
Have you seen the Doctor doing so ?' asked the landlord.
'No, but I know it in my heart,' said Mrs Bradshaw, reaching for her gin and water.
In our opinion, Mrs Bradshaw's imagination must have been morbidly stirred by the loose talk going the rounds in Rugeley. We find it difficult to reconcile Dr Palmer's love for his wife and his boy Willie with any such cold-blooded murder. Moreover, it is a common tragedy in families which arc well-to-do, careful in their hygiene, and quite above suspicion, for the first child to be born safe and sound and the second, third, fourth and fifth, to be cither miscarried or else born so sickly that they never survive infancy. Doctors cannot explain this phenomenon, except perhaps as indicating some failure of the mother's blood to agree with the father's; though why the first child should survive they do not venture to suggest.
Dr Palmer now sent his wife for a holiday to the little coastal village of Ramsgate, accompanied by her friend Miss Salt. A letter has come into our hands, undated but doubtless posted in 1854 on that occasion. It is written beneath a copperplate engraving of the Crystal Palace, with the inscription:
The letter runs:
My dearest Willie,
I hope you are very happy and also very good. Mamma has been to purchase this little picture for you: I was sorry not to get a coloured one. I shall hear from Papa all about you, so let him have to tell me that you are a DEAR GOOD BOY. I shall not forget, all being well, some pretty toy for you. Give Papa twenty kisses for Mamma, and twenty for yourself, and with love ever—
Your affectionate mother,
A. Palmer
London, Thursday. Tell Papa I will write to him tomorrow from Ramsgate.
She was away at Ramsgate a fortnight, enjoying the sea breezes and collecting shells on the shore. While there, she unbosomed herself to Miss Salt, saying: 'My poor mother died on a visit to our house, soon after dear Willie was born; and then Mr Leonard Bladon died; and afterwards there was Mr Joseph Bentley, whom my husband had been to visit; and since then, four little innocents of our own. Whatever will people say?'
But she could guess what the Rugeley gossip would be; and when the two ladies were packing their trunks for the journey back, she remarked to Miss Salt: 'My darling Willie—I hope he's safe!' Then, catching a look of surprise in her friend's eye, she changed her words: 'I mean, I hope he's
And well he was, having a merry time playing at 'Hons and tigers' with his father in the parlour, and hstening to fairy stories from a book. But on Annie's return, melancholia settled more firmly than ever on her. She once remarked:' If it wasn't so wicked and if it wasn't for wanting to look after Willie, I'd think no more about taking my life than taming off a cock. I've been a cruel disappointment to my husband, though he's as patient as a saint, and never addresses me harshly, or blames me for bearing sickly infants. He always says: 'Your new treasure is just a bit nicer and prettier than the last.' When I'm gone, he'll soon find another wife, with all that I lack in looks and accomplishments; but he gets cross whenever I tell him that.'
Since Dr Palmer's arrest, a great many new stories have come into circulation which represent him as having killed scores of people in these years; but they prove without exception to be clumsy fabrications designed to assist the sale of the newspapers that publish them. For example,
It seems that a few years ago a young man named Bly, residing near Beccles, had formed an unfortunate connexion with the Turf, and chanced to be professionally attended by William Palmer, either at Rugeley, or at some town adjacent to a race-course, by many said to be Leicester. Bly had, singularly enough, won largely of Palmer, when he was thus taken dangerously ill. His wife, having heard from him, immediately hurried to his bedside. On her arrival, Palmer tried to persuade her not to see her husband. She succeeded however in having an interview with him, and he told her he believed he was dying and, after expressing contrition for his ill-spent life, stated that in the event of his death she was to apply to Palmer for ?800 which he owed him. He died shortly afterwards, and at his funeral Mrs Bly related to Palmer the conversation. Palmer replied that it was only a proof of the state of mind in which the deceased had died, for instead of owing him ?800, it was just the reverse, the money being due from the deceased to him. He added that he should never have applied to Mrs Bly for it, if she had not mentioned the subject to him.
From what we have learned at Rugeley, Dr Palmer made game of the talk that went on about hm. He would greet old friends in The Bell or The Shoulder of Mutton with a rollicking: 'Here comes the poisoner!' and then, turning to Jack, or Harry, or Bill, would ask: And what's your poison, lad ? Prussic acid or arsenic ?'
'What's your poison?' has since become a proverbial greeting in the inns of Staffordshire on Dr Palmer's account.
ENGLISH CHOLERA
THE following account of by far the most tragic event in Dr Palmer's life has been kindly supplied by Dr Salt's daughter, Annie Palmer's closest friend.
MISS SALT
One afternoon, in the September of 1854,1 found Annie Palmer in one of her blackest moods. When I tried to hearten her, she said: 'I'm afraid, dear child, all is over now. I have failed my husband both as a companion and as a wife. It would be unbecoming for me to entrust an unmarried girl like yourself with our marital secrets; but I daresay you have guessed how it can be with a young and vigorous husband ... He will want to make love
