They Hanged My Saintly Billy (79 page)

I
am,
Sir,
your
obedient
servant, H.
Waddington

By
the
same
post
he
received
a
letter
from
Dr
Palmer
himself:

Stafford,
June
11
th,
1856

My
dear
John,

The
governor
has
been
kind
enough
to
allow
me
to
write
to
you, as
I
am
anxious
to
see
you,
and
shall
be
glad
if
you
will
come
as
soon as
you
can.
Thank
God,
I
am
very
well
in
health
and
spirits.
Write to
me
immediately.

I
am,
my
dear
John,
yours
ever,
here
and
hereafter,

William
Palmer

Chapter XXIV

THE
EXECUTION

M
R
JOHN
SMITH,
since
he
could
not
catch
the
express
that
evening,
took
train
to
Wolverhampton,
and
went thence
by
fly,
reaching
Stafford
Gaol
at
about
eleven
o'clock.
Dr Palmer
had
just
parted
from
his
brothers,
among
them
Joseph (now
somewhat
paralytic),
and
his
sister
Sarah,
in
an
affecting farewell.
When
Mr
Smith
told
him
that
Sir
George
Grey
had refused
a
last-minute
stay
of
execution,
his
face
suddenly
paled, his
mouth
twitched,
and
he
did
not
recover
his
usual
florid
looks for
some
little
while.

Major
Fulford,
the
Governor,
was
present
at
this
interview.
Because
Dr
Palmer
had
waited
up
to
a
late
hour
until
Smith
came, the
prison
officers
supposed
he
had
something
important
to
tell him;
but
when
the
Governor
informed
the
Doctor
that
whatever private
disclosure
he
might
make,
on
family
matters,
to
Mr
Smith would
be
kept
secret,
he
simply
thanked
Mr
Smith
for
his
great exertions
and
the
prison
officers
for
their
kindness—and
reaffirmed that
Cook
had
not
died
from
strychnine.

The
Governor
then
expressed
a
hope
that
Dr
Palmer
was
not quibbling
with
the
question,
and
urged
him
to
say
plainly
whether or
not
he
had
committed
murder.

Dr
Palmer
answered:
'Lord
Campbell
summed
up
for
poisoning
by
strychnine,
and
I
never
gave
Cook
any
of
that.'

'How
the
deed
was
done,'
retorted
the
Governor,
'is
of
scant importance.
Pray
give
me
a
plain
yes
or
no
to
my
question!'

'I
have
nothing
more
to
add,'
said
he.
'I
am
quite
easy
in
my conscience,
and
happy
in
my
mind.'

Immediately
after
leaving
the
Gaol,
Smith
wrote
to
a
friend
as follows:

My
interview
ended
in
Palmer's
making
me
pledge
myself
that Cook's
body
should
be
exhumed,
and
asserting
that
he
was
never poisoned
by
strychnine.
Palmer—God
help
him!—remained
as
cool
as
though
any
ordinary
question
had
been
discussed.
Then
he
presented
me
with
a
book,
inscribed
in
a
fair
hand:
'The
gift
of
Wm Palmer,
June
13, 1856/
It
is
titl
ed
The Sinner's Friend,
and
the
prelude,
underscored
by
him,
runs
thus:

' Oh! where for refuge should I flee, If
Jesus had not died for me?'

Early
in
the
morning
of
Saturday,
June
14th,
Dr
Palmer
retired to
rest,
and
slept
two
hours
and
a
half,
when
he
was
visited
again by
the
Rev.
Mr
Goodacre,
the
Prison
Chaplain.
Between
five and
six
o'clock
he
took
his
breakfast,
a
plain
cup
of
tea,
and
made his
gallows
toilet
with
unwavering
serenity.
Breakfast
over,
the Chaplain
entered
the
cell,
to
offer
Dr
Palmer
the
in
timate
consolations
of
religion,
and
found
him
still
calm
and
resigned.
Shortly afterwards,
the
Sheriff
and
other
officials
appeared.
When
about to
leave
his
cell
for
ever,
Dr
Palmer
said
in
reply
to
the
High Sheriff
that
he
denied
the
justice
of
his
sentence,
and
that
he
was a
murdered
man.
These
were
almost
the
last
words
he
uttered.

The
doomed
prisoner
walked,
in
the
company
of
the
Sheriff,
to the
press-room,
where
he
met
Smith,
the
hangman,
and
submitted to
the
final
preparations
no
less
quietl
y
than
if
he
had
been
under the
hands
of
a
valet
dressing
for
a
dinner
party.
At
about
seven o'clock,
a
turnkey
brought
him
another
cup
of
tea,
which
he drank
with
enjoyment,
and
when
asked:
'How
do
you
feel?', replied:
'Thank
you,
I
am
quite
comfortable.'
Among
the
foolish stories
current
is
one
that
at
ten
minutes
to
eight
he
was
offered
a glass
of
champagne,
to
prepare
him
for
his
ordeal,
and
that
when it
was
brought
he
blew
off
the
bubbles,
remarking:
'They
always give
me
indigestion
a
few
hours
later,
if
I
drink
in
a
hurry.'

The
intense
interest
in
the
hanging
had
been
manifested
a
day beforehand
by
the
numbers
pouring
into
Stafford
from
every direction.
The
town
assumed
more
the
appearance
of
some
anticipated
festivity
than
of
the
fearful
spectacle
so
soon
to
take
place. The
streets,
despite
torrents
of
rain
which
fell
during
nearly
the whole
of
Friday,
were
thronged.
The
public
houses
did
a
roaring trade,
and
in
many
of
them
jocund
songs
and
merry
dances
were kept
up
all
night
with
untiring
energy
by
holiday-makers
who had
travelled
far
to
feast
their
eyes
on
Dr
Palmer's
death-struggles. One
favourite
resort
was
the
house
where
the
hangman
had
located
himself,
everyone
being
anxious
to
catch
a
ghmpse
of
the man
who
was
to
be
Dr
Palmer's
executioner.