At the conclusion of this address the jury retired from the Court, at eighteen minutes past two o'clock. They filed back into their box at twenty-five minutes to four, after an absence of one hour and seventeen minutes. The prisoner, who had meanwhile been removed, was simultaneously placed in the dock.
A buzz of excitement which ran round the Court on the reappearance of the jury was instantly hushed by the Clerk of the Arraigns' question: 'Gentlemen of the Jury, are you all unanimous in your verdict?'
The Foreman replied with a downright: 'We are.'
Whereupon the Clerk of the Arraigns asked: 'How say you, gentlemen: Do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty, or not guilty?'
The Foreman rose and announced in distinct and firm tones: 'We find the prisoner guilty.'
Dr Palmer, who exhibited some slight pallor and the least possible shade of anxiety upon the return of the jury to the box, almost instantly won back his self-possession and his demeanour of comparative indifference. He maintained his perfect calm; and when sentence was being passed, he looked an interested, although utterly unmoved, spectator. We may truly say that during the whole of this protracted trial his nerve and calmness have never for a moment forsaken him.
The Clerk of the Arraigns then turned to him with: 'Prisoner at the bar, you stand convicted of murder; what have you to say why the Court should not give you judgement to die according to the law?' This question is of a formal nature; and the prisoner neither made, nor was expected to make, any answer.
Thereupon the Judges assumed the black cap, and Lord Chief Justice Campbell pronounced sentence in the following terms:
'William Palmer, after a long and impartial trial you have been convicted of the crime of wilful murder. In that verdict my two learned brothers, who have so anxiously watched this trial, and myself, entirely concur. The case is attended with such circumstances of aggravation that I will not dare to touch upon them. Whether this be the first and only offence of the sort which you have committed is certainly known only to God and your own conscience. It is seldom that such a familiarity with the means of death can be achieved without long experience; but for this offence, of which you have been found guilty, your life is forfeited. You must prepare to die; and I trust that, as you can expect no mercy in this world, you will, by a repentance of your crimes, seek to obtain mercy from Almighty God. The Act of Parliament under which, at your own request, you have been brought here for trial, allows us to direct that the sentence shall be executed either within the jurisdiction of the Central Criminal Court, or in the county where the offence was committed. We think that the sentence ought to be executed in the county of Stafford, and we hope that this terrible example will deter others from committing such atrocious crimes: for it will be seen that, whatever art, or caution, or experience may accomplish, yet such an offence will surely be found out and punished.
'However destructive poison may be, it is ordained by Providence, for the safety of its creatures, that there are means of detecting and punishing those who administer it. I again implore you to repent, and to prepare for the awful change which awaits you. I will not seek to harrow up your feelings by enumerating the circumstances of this foul murder; but content myself now by passing upon you the sentence of the law.
'Which is: that you be taken from hence to the gaol of Newgate, and be thence removed to the gaol of the county of Stafford —the county in which the offence for which you stand convicted was committed—that you be taken thence to the place of execution, and there hanged by the neck until you be dead, and that your body be afterwards buried within the precincts of the prison; and may the Lord of Heaven have mercy on your soul!
'Amen.'
Dr Palmer's notorious comment on the verdict—the sporting phrase: 'It was the riding that did it,' which he wrote on another scrap of paper and tossed to his solicitor—has been read as an unwilling tribute to the Attorney-General's masterly conduct of the Prosecution. But we have it from his solicitor, John Smith, that it referred solely to the Lord Chief Justice's discreditable jockeyship on the Bench.
Chapter XXIII
A CHANGE IN PUBLIC OPINION
BACK in his cell at Newgate Gaol, Dr Palmer complained to the Under-Sheriff that he had not received anything like a fair trial. The Under-Sheriff replied: 'You can have no reason for complaint, my man. Why, the Attorney-General laid his cards face upwards on the table, saying that, since so much prejudice had been excited in this case, all the evidence against you would first be communicated to Counsel for the Defence, not sprung upon him.'
'I saw in that only the hypocrisy of a Scot,' Dr Palmer retorted. 'There were several cards missing from the pack, including the high trumps.'
'Moreover,' went on the Under-Sheriff, 'no less than three Judges agreed with the jury's finding.'
'Well, Sir, but that don't satisfy me,' said the Doctor. He then stated that Lord Chief Justice Campbell had failed to consult his fellow-Judges before announcing their unanimous agreement with the verdict; and that it should properly have fallen to Mr Justice Cresswell, as junior Judge, to pass sentence.
Later, Dr Palmer admitted: 'Despite old Campbell's unfair speech at the close of it, I had hoped to get off; but when the jury returned to Court and I saw the cocked-up nose of that perky little Foreman, I knew it was a gooser with me.'
He appeared greatly mortified when given a grey suit of convict clothes and curtly told to change into them. Having done so, he was handcuffed and fettered. 'You are bound for Stafford tonight,' said the Under-Sheriff.
A Black Maria stood waiting in the courtyard, where the crowd had gathered thick for a sight of the prisoner; but Mr Weatherhead, the Governor of Newgate Gaol, smuggled him out by cab to Euston Square station. Though met there with angry and derisive shouts, he was safely assisted to the eight o'clock train and thrust into the middle compartment of a first-class carriage; the blinds being at once drawn. He had pleaded to travel by the Great Western Railway, over a less direct route, on the ground that if he went by the London & North Western, he would be recognized all along the line. This favour was denied him.
When he arrived, rather fagged, at Stafford station late that night—only to be greeted with prolonged boos and catcalls— Mr Wollaston, Superintendent of the Stafford Police, took one of his arms, and Mr Weatherhead the other. The police having dispersed the crowd, Dr Palmer picked his way carefully through the puddles, saying: 'Dear me, it’s very wet! Have you had much rain down here?'
'We have,' Mr Wollaston answered shortly.
No further word was spoken for some time, but after about five minutes Dr Palmer signed and said: 'I've had a wearying trial of it: twelve long days!' Then he stumbled in the dark and cried: 'Bother these chains! I wish they were off. I can't walk properly.'
The Doctor's brothers, George and Thomas, had leave to visit his cell a day or two later. When they begged him to declare whether he were guilty or not guilty, he forcibly replied: 'I have nothing to say, and nothing shall I say!'
Within half a week of returning to Stafford he overcame his fatigue, and was allowed several more visits from them; also from the Rev. Mr Atkinson, the Vicar of Rugeley, who had baptized, confirmed, married, and never ceased to feel affection for, him; from Mr Wright, the philanthropist of Manchester; and from the Rev. Mr Sneyd of Ripstone. All diese urged on him the necessity of confessing, but he kept a polite silence. Serjeant Shee sent Dr Palmer a Bible, carrying a sympathetic note on the flyleaf; and he passed much of his time reading this, and other religious books, lent him by the Prison Chaplain, the Rev. H. J. Goodacre. At his request, old Mrs Palmer spared herself the pain of a farewell, and took sole charge of little William, his son.