<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</SPAN><br/> <span class="smaller">From the Murderer’s point of view.</span></h2>
<div class="drop">
<ANTIMG src="images/dropb.png" width-obs="74" height-obs="76" alt="B" /></div>
<p class="afterdrop"><span class="fstwd"><span class="hidden">B</span>urns</span> sang, and we are fond of repeating his
singing:—</p>
<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div class="i0">Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us,</div>
<div class="i0">To see oursels as ithers see us;</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>but I never heard anybody utter the opposite aspiration,
for the gift to see others as they see themselves. And
yet I am not quite sure that this gift is not as desirable
as the other. At any rate, if we are to legislate wisely
and well for any class of people it is absolutely necessary
that we should be able to see things from their own
point of view. It is with much hesitation that I start
this chapter, for I know that my power to analyze
thought and character is not great enough to enable me
to deal with the subject on broad lines. But if I can
induce a few people to consider the question of murder
and its punishment from the murderer’s point of view,
the chapter will do good.</p>
<p>On the whole, I think that our attitude towards
murderers is based too much on sentiment and too little
on reason. Many people pity all murderers, whether
they deserve it or not; many others condemn them body,
soul and spirit, without considering to what extent they
are the result of circumstances. If I can induce my
readers to consider that a murderer has as much right
to judge the State as the State has to judge him, I think
this book will have achieved one good purpose.</p>
<p>I do not wish to work out an argument, but will
just give a few of the expressed ideas of the murderers,
in the hope that they may give rise to fruitful trains of
thought. I would point out, however, that many of the
people who have died on the scaffold have lived in such
deplorable circumstances—assailed by every sort of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</SPAN></span>
temptation, surrounded by an atmosphere of gay and hollow
vice, cradled in misery and educated in wretchedness
and sin, with little of the good and the beautiful entering
into their lives to raise them, but with the accursed
facility for obtaining drink to lure them down—in such
deplorable circumstances, I say, that even an angel
could hardly keep himself unspotted from such a world.
When men commit a horrible crime it is our duty to
exact the penalty; but it will do us no harm to consider
whether we are in any way responsible for the conditions
which may have driven them to crime; and
whether we cannot do even more than we are doing for
the prevention of crime by the improvement of the
conditions.</p>
<p>Besides the conditions of life, the mental status of
the wretched culprits should be worthy of attention, and
I think we might ask ourselves whether it would not
have been better for some of the murderers, as well
as for society, if they had been placed under life-long
restraint years before their careers reached the murder
stage.</p>
<p>There are many other questions which will naturally
occur to the thoughtful reader, and which I need not
indicate.</p>
<h3><i>Arthur Shaw.</i></h3>
<p>Amongst my earlier executions was that of Arthur
Shaw at Liverpool. Shaw was a tailor, thirty-one
years of age, who lived in Manchester. He was married,
but his married life was not happy, for his wife seems
to have drunk heavily, and he himself was not steady.
On November 3rd, 1884, they quarrelled, and fought for
some time, and shortly afterwards the woman was found
dead—killed, according to the doctors, by strangulation.
Shaw did not deny the murder, but pleaded that it was
unintentional, and that he had been greatly provoked by
his wife’s long-continued dissipation. The jury strongly
recommended him to mercy. Immediately before meeting
his fate, in a last conversation with the chaplain,
the man admitted his guilt but earnestly insisted that
he had never intended to cause his wife’s death. He
stated that he was not drunk at the time of the murder,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</SPAN></span>
but that he had been driven to drink by his wife’s drunkenness
and neglect of the home, which was always miserable;
and that her drunkenness and neglect exasperated him
until he was perfectly wild. He concluded by saying:
“When we were having the scuffle I had no idea I was
killing the poor woman.”</p>
<h3><i>Thomas Parry</i>,</h3>
<p>hanged in Galway on January 20th, 1885, for the murder
of Miss Burns, wrote a long statement, which he handed
to the governor to be read after his death. The gist of
it was given in the following paragraph:—“I wish to
assure the public and my family and friends that I was
of unsound mind for a week previous to the murder and
for some time afterwards. I am happy to suffer for the
crime which I committed, and confident that I shall
enter upon an eternity of bliss. I die at peace with all
men, and hope that anyone that I have ever injured will
forgive me.”</p>
<h3><i>George Horton</i>,</h3>
<p>of Swanwick, poisoned his little daughter; for the purpose,
it is supposed, of obtaining the sum of £7 for
which her life was insured; and was executed at Derby
on February 1st, 1886. It is difficult, or impossible, for
an ordinary person to understand such a man’s frame of
mind. One would think him absolutely callous, yet he
wept over the body of his child when he found that she
was dead, and wrote most affectionate letters to his
other children when he was in prison. A portion of his
last letter to his eldest daughter was as follows:—</p>
<blockquote>
<p>You must be sure to pray to God to gide you all
you life through and you must pray for your Brothers
and Sisters i do pray to God to gard you all you life
through. So my dear Daughter you must think of
what i have told you. you must always tell the truth
& when you are tempted to do wrong you must pray
to God for his help and he will hear you. Always
remember that my Dear Children, and you must tell
the others the same, you that is your brothers and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</SPAN></span>
sisters God has promised to be a father to you all ways,
remember that he sees all you do and all you think,
then if you do his will while here on earth he will
receive you to his throne in glory where all is peace
and rest. So my Dear Children you will be able to
meat all your brothers and sisters and your poore dear
Mother in heaven, and by the help of God i shall meat
you there to.... may God help you all and
bless you and keep you all your lifes through. He
will do it if you pray to him and ask him. You no
you must take every think to God in prayer for you
no you will have no one els to help you now. so no
more from your loving father, <span class="smcap">George Horton</span>.
May God bless you all. Kisses for you all.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="center">
<ANTIMG src="images/i_099.png" width-obs="336" height-obs="491" alt="" />
<p class="caption">Edward Pritchard.</p>
</div>
<h3><i>Edward Pritchard</i></h3>
<p>was an instance of how “evil communications corrupt
good manners,” and a striking example of the unfortunate
uselessness of our reformatory system. At twelve
years of age he was convicted for being an “associate
of thieves,” and sentenced to two years in a reformatory.
For three years after leaving the reformatory he managed
to keep out of prison, but when seventeen he was sentenced
to four months’ imprisonment for shop-breaking,
and after this he was frequently in gaol. About a year
before the murder he appeared to have reformed,
attended Sunday-school and chapel, and took an active
part in religious work right up to the time of committing
the murder. He murdered a small boy of fourteen who
was in the habit of regularly fetching money from the
bank to pay the wages at a large factory, and stole from
him the wages money, amounting to over £200. The
evidence of the deed was absolutely conclusive and
overwhelming, and Pritchard had no hope of reprieve.
A day or two after his conviction he wrote a letter to
one of his Sunday-school teachers, in which he professed
to have seen the error of his ways, urged all his companions
to shun bad company, drinking and smoking,
spoke of the delight with which he remembered some
of the Sunday-school hymns, and anticipated the
pleasure of soon singing them “up there.” All through<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span>
his life there seems to have been a struggle between
good and evil, with an unfortunate balance of power on
the side of evil. It is difficult to believe that he would
have devoted his spare time for a year to religious work
if he had not felt strong aspirations for the higher life.
After conviction he said but little about himself, and
made no formal statement or confession, but a letter
which he wrote to the father of the murdered boy will
throw some light upon his mental state. In this letter
Pritchard distinctly affirms that he was led to commit
the crime by the instigation of a companion, and though
the statements of a convicted murderer must always be
received with caution, it is possible that there was some
ground for this assertion. If the crime was really suggested
and the criminal encouraged by the influence of
another, and probably a stronger mind, we may well ask<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span>
ourselves how much of the moral blame attaches to the
instigator, and how much to the weak tool. The
letter was as follows:—</p>
<blockquote>
<p class="right">
Her Majesty’s Prison,<br/>
<i>Monday, Feb. 14th</i>.</p>
<p>Sir,</p>
<p>I write these lines to you to express my deep
sorrow for the dreadful crime I have done to you and to
your master. I write to ask you if you and your wife
will forgive me for killing your boy, and please ask
the master if he will forgive me for taking his money
from him. It would not have happened if I had not
been incited to do it, and it was by no other person
than —— ——, who was a witness against me.
He persuaded me to do it, and said he might do it
himself if I did not; so I done the unhappy affair. I
am very sorry I ever met with —— at all, but it
cannot be called back now. I have cried to God for
mercy; I must still cry, and I hope I shall gain a better
home. I have asked Him to forgive me and blot out all
my sins, and wash me in my Saviour’s precious blood;
and I think and feel He will do it. I’m going to
receive the Holy Communion on Wednesday, and I
should like to hear from you by Wednesday, before I
go to be partaker of that holy feast. If you will
forgive me, I shall be more at peace.</p>
<p>I am very, very sorry indeed, for what I have
done. There is nothing that can save me from my
doom, which will be on Thursday, but I can ask God
to have mercy on my poor soul.</p>
<p>I have no more to say at present, only that I was
a great friend of poor Harry, and I went nearly mad
about it the first few nights, and could not sleep;
but now I find comfort in Jesus. Good-bye, Sir.
Please send me an answer by return of post, and I
hope we shall meet in Heaven.</p>
<p class="center">From <span class="smcap">Edward Pritchard</span>.</p>
<div>
<p class="ilb center">Gloucester County Gaol,<br/>
Gloucestershire.</p>
</div>
</blockquote>
<p>A few particulars of Pritchard’s last moments are given
in “How Murderers Die,” <SPAN href="#Page_78"></SPAN>.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="center">
<ANTIMG src="images/i_101.png" width-obs="339" height-obs="409" alt="" />
<p class="caption">Alfred Scandrett.</p>
</div>
<h3><i>Alfred Scandrett</i>,</h3>
<p>another young man—only just twenty-one years old—was
another example of the result of bad influences.
His father deserted the home when Alfred was about
ten years old. His mother was a hard-working woman
who contrived to support her family by mangling and
by selling papers in the streets, in which latter work she
was assisted by Alfred and several other children. The
lad was fond of hanging round street corners and public-houses,
and his mother found it impossible to keep him
at home like the other children. He continually made
resolutions, but again and again he was led away by his
companions, and at twelve years of age he was convicted
for stealing cigars from a shop, but discharged with a
caution. A month later he was charged with another
offence and sentenced to 21 days. Other imprisonments
followed, then five years in a reformatory, but punishment
was no cure. His love for his mother was his one
redeeming feature, and if she had not been forced by<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</SPAN></span>
grinding poverty to work almost day and night at her
mangling and paper-hawking she might have succeeded
in saving him from himself. He tried to break away
from his evil associations, and at one time begged his
mother to find money to take him to Canada, but she
was utterly unable to scrape together enough to pay the
passage. A youth called Jones, who was hanged with
Scandrett, was his companion in his final crime—a
burglary, ending in murder. Although attached to his
mother, who said he had always been “a good lad” to
her, Scandrett could not bear the idea of living at
home when he was engaged in crime, so that almost the
whole of the last eight years of his life was spent, when
out of gaol, in common lodging-houses. After his conviction
for murder and sentence to death, his great
anxiety was for his mother. And well might he be
anxious, for the poor woman suffered sadly for his sin.
As soon as it was known that she was “the mother of
a murderer,” her customers—to their eternal disgrace
be it said—withdrew their patronage to such an extent
that her mangling earnings dropped from 12s. or 14s.
to 2s. a week, and her newspaper trade fell away to
nothing. She was even “hunted” and insulted in the
streets when she went to her accustomed corner to sell
the papers. To get from her home in Birmingham to
Hereford Gaol for a last interview with her son, she
was obliged to pawn her dress, and even that only
raised enough money to pay the fare one way, so that
she had to trust to chance for the means of getting back
again. Some of the prison officials, more humane than
her “friends” at home, subscribed enough money to
pay the return fare. The last meeting was a very
affecting one. Scandrett comforted his mother by
assuring her that they would meet in heaven, and said,
“Pray daily and hourly, mother, as I have done, and
then we shall meet in heaven.”</p>
<h3><i>Arthur Delaney.</i></h3>
<p>The number of men who are driven to crime through
drink is something terrible, and I should think that no
temperance worker could read the real histories of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span>
murderers who have come under my hands without redoubling
his efforts to save men from the curse of drink.
A case in point was Arthur Delaney, executed at
Chesterfield on August 10th, 1888. It may be said that
he was naturally a bad, violent man, but surely he
would never have become a murderer if he had not
consistently made himself worse and worse by hard
drinking. His victim was his wife, to whom he had
been married four years, and who was spoken of as a
respectable, hard-working woman. Not very long after
the marriage, in a drunken fit, he violently assaulted
her, for which action the magistrates imposed a fine and
granted a separation order. His wife, however, forgave
him, and in spite of his bad behaviour continued to live
with him. A few days before the murder he was unusually
violent, and treated his wife so brutally that she
was obliged to again appeal to the magistrates, who
again imposed a fine. This raised Delaney’s anger to
such an extent that the next time he got drunk he
battered his wife so violently that she had to be removed
to the hospital, where she died. Like many other
culprits, Delaney saw the cause of the mischief when it
was done; and a letter written after his sentence, has a
ring of simple earnestness about it that makes it worth
preserving. It was written to some Good Templars
who had tried to reform him.</p>
<blockquote>
<p class="right">
H.M. Prison, Derby,<br/>
<i>August 8th, 1888</i>.</p>
<p>My Dear Friends,</p>
<p>I write you farewell on this earth, but hope with
gods great mercy to meet you all there, were there
will be no more sorrow or temptation. I do sincerely
thank you for your kindness to me, and hope that my
fall will be the means of, with god’s help of lifting
others up from a drunkard’s grave. Had I followed
your advise my poor wife would been alive now, and
we should have been happy, for she was a faithful
and good wife to me. God knows that I should not
have done such a dreadful crime if I had kept my
pledge, but hope it will be a warning to those that
play with the devil in solution. Will you tell ——
to give his heart to god, and he will be safe from his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span>
great curse, the drink. Bid him and his wife farewell
for me, and tell him to put all his powers to work to
help the Noble work of Temperance onward, for it is
God’s work. Oh! do implore them that is playing
with the drink to abstain from it, for it is a national
curse. Now farewell to you all, and may God prosper
your noble work.</p>
<div class="aspara">
<div class="center">From your unfortunate friend,</div>
<div class="right smcap">Arthur T. Delaney</div>.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>What proportion of murders is directly traceable to
drink it would be very difficult to say, but time after time
we find that murderers who write to their friends state
that drink, and drink only, has caused their ruin.</p>
<h3><i>Elizabeth Berry.</i></h3>
<p>Although I am endeavouring in this chapter to
give a few ideas of the motives for murder as seen by
the murderers themselves, I am not by any means condoning
their crimes. My main object is to induce people
to look more into the pre-disposing causes of crime. I
want them to consider whether in many cases prevention
is not better than cure, and whether more can not be
done to remove the causes. Undoubtedly drink has to
answer for the largest number of such crimes. After
drink comes lust and jealousy, though these almost
invariably reach the murder climax through drink.
The other main motive is the love of money, which has
led to many of the most heartless, inhuman deeds that
it has been my lot to avenge. I have given one or two
instances of parents who murdered their own children
for the sake of a few pounds of insurance money, and
such instances could be multiplied. In fact, so apparent
did the motive become a year or two back, that the
Government was obliged to pass a law regulating the
insurance of the lives of infants. If such an act, or
even a further-reaching one, had been in existence
earlier, Elizabeth Berry might have been alive now
instead of lying in a felon’s grave. Mrs. Berry
poisoned her daughter, aged 11. At the time of the
murder the child’s life was insured for £10, for which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span>
Mrs. Berry was paying a premium of 1d. per week. The
murderess had also made a proposal for a mutual
insurance on her own life and the child’s by which £100
should be paid, on the death of either, to the survivor.
She was under the impression that the policy was completed,
but as a matter of fact, it was not. It seems
almost impossible that a woman should murder a child
for the sake of gaining even the full sum of £110; and
we might be justified in believing that there must be
some other motive if it were not for the fact that infanticide
has been committed again and again for much
smaller sums. From the point of view of the murderers
of children it would seem that a few pounds in money
appears a sufficient inducement to soil their hands with
the blood of a fellow-creature. It is well, therefore,
for the sake of child-life that the temptation should be
removed.</p>
<div class="center">
<ANTIMG src="images/i_105.png" width-obs="326" height-obs="490" alt="" />
<p class="caption">Mrs. Berry.</p>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.