All language subtitles for Miss Madeline Smith - starring Elizabeth Richardson (1980)

The play you're about to see is based on the trial of a murder case and treats the facts

of violent deaths as frankly as they were treated in the original court.

Because of the trial have been condensed from contemporary sources but scenes outside the

courtroom are a mixture of fact and conjecture.

About eight o'clock on one Sunday evening in March 1857, Pierre Emile Longerier, a young

Frenchman employed as a packing clerk to messes Huggins and companies warehouse in Glasgow,

came back to his lodgings from a holiday at the bridge of Allen.

The next morning that young man was dead and a week later Miss Madeline Smith, the daughter

of a wealthy and influential Glasgow architect, who had acquired her cultured accent at Mrs.

Gordon's Academy of Young Ladies in London was arrested for his murder.

It was discovered that Emile and Miss Smith had been indulging in a secret love affair

and the trial causes sensation for not only when Madeline's family received in good society

but she was engaged to be married to a Mr. William Harper Minock, a wealthy merchant

in Glasgow.

When rumours of her engagement reached Emile and Madeline asked him to return her letters,

he had refused.

He threatened to send the letters to her father.

On Longerier's death these letters were discovered and when it was learned that Longerier had

been taken sick on three separate occasions after visiting Madeline and before two of

these visits she had purchased his arsenic from a chemist.

Miss Madeline Smith was arrested in Glasgow and the 21 year old girl was brought to Edinburgh

Prison to await her trial for the murder of her lover.

The trial was to last for nine days.

I'm sorry to disturb you in your reading Miss Smith but you have a visitor.

Mr. Minock, I do not think you should think of him, do you?

In my eyes, Miss Aiken, I'm still engaged to Mr. Minock.

You know he's to speak for me in the court.

Minock will give evidence, that's true.

But it's the crown that puts him there, remember.

He will say nothing to harm me.

You don't lack for confidence, Miss Smith.

It's a shame that I can't set you in the box.

Such confidence would argue well, I think.

You are?

The Dean of Faculty.

You're advocate, John Ingalls.

Mr. Ingalls, I'm grateful to you.

I did not think you would undertake to see me.

I wanted to see you.

There are things in this.

Questions which they cannot ask of you in court but I must ask them of you now.

You mean if you do not think me innocent?

Three separate charges.

They are grave, Miss Smith.

One administering poison with intent to murder February the 19th or 20th.

Two administering poison with intent to murder February the 22nd or 3rd.

And finally, that on the 23rd day of March...

No, you do not think me innocent.

Well, I cannot know yet.

That's why I've come to see you.

To hear from you directly.

I understand.

Well then, I must persuade you.

Please, Miss Smith.

And in whatever manner and whether or not against his better judgement,

John Ingalls was persuaded to undertake the defense of Madeleine Smith.

The prosecution was led by James Moncrief.

A man of sensitivity and refinement.

You must understand, Mr. Miric,

I accepted this case out of a public duty.

I have no desire to hunt Miss Smith.

Could there be a more unhappy woman?

Whatever they outcome, the sheer disgrace and depth of degradation will have to be revealed.

I have taken infinite trouble over this case.

Each day I have been anxious that nothing should be overlooked.

And each night I have left here in low spirits.

I can make no bargains with you.

That isn't why I wish to see you.

No, it would even do me to hear in my chambers like this.

I know, I know it is irregular.

And I'm most grateful to you.

You let it retrain a torment of mind, I could not readily ignore.

What is it that you want from me?

I cannot help to send her to the gallows.

I cannot say things about damage, huh?

I left Glasgow out of anxiety that I might be subpoenaed as a witness.

Then it was said that my absence from the court

would make it look as though I thought they were guilty.

So I...

I agreed to return and give my evidence.

But now, now I'm not so sure.

If it will ease your mind in any way,

the questions I ask will be in fact.

And if you answer me in the same spirit, that will be all I require.

And you will have no cause for self-approaching.

Thank you.

You say you have prepared the case with care, I...

I cannot ask you how it looks for her.

You may ask. I cannot answer.

Your manor says enough.

I'm sorry.

But time presses, Mr. Meev.

No, yes, time flies.

It's strange. It seems just a few weeks ago,

we were discussing wedding plans,

when to put the notice in the papers.

Never appeared, of course, but...

still...

since then, time has flown

largely in sleepless nights.

You were going to announce the engagement in the papers.

On the 25th of...

March.

I see.

So long, Gélier had to die by then.

Is that the inference you make?

The inference is yours, not mine.

But you will, press me on it in the court.

Mr. Minich, I cannot discuss that now.

I advise you to go into the witness box.

For my part, I have a certain job to do in court.

But where I can spare you, I will.

And the same is true of Miss Smith.

You have my word on that.

And now...

Thank you.

I'm so afraid of what I will hear in court.

Could you not prepare me in any way?

It would be a kindness, yes.

But no, I cannot do it.

A packed court, including just one woman's spectator,

heard precisely how Longelier died.

When his landlaid, him and his Jenkins,

was called to give evidence by Mr. Moncrief.

My lord, as the evidence I am about to lead,

will furnish details of Longelier's illness and death.

May I suggest that the medical witnesses

should be present?

I'm sorry, my lord.

But this proposal from the crown is totally unexpected.

Yes, it is material that the medical witnesses should hear

directly from the present witness of the symptoms

on which they will later have to pronounce.

This I willingly exceed.

But we have had no notice of this, my lord.

If the crown have their medical men in court,

then it's almost a defense.

And that, my lord, is impossible at this juncture.

We cannot conjure them from the thin air.

I may say the rule of court is that medical witnesses

shall not be present.

Unless the case is such as to induce us to relax that rule.

Under the circumstances, I will not press the motion.

Now, this is your case.

On the 17th of March, Longelier returned from Edinburgh.

He seemed disappointed not to find a letter.

On the 19th, he left for a bridge of error.

Yes.

A letter came for him that day,

and you gave it to your lord, your Mr. To,

for him to address and send on.

And you next saw Longelier quay.

And next saw Longelier on the Sunday night

about eight o'clock.

Well, he took me by surprise.

That's why I come home.

Did he have an answer?

Yes, sir.

He said the letter you sent brought me home.

What did you judge?

To be his state of health?

Well, he looked well, and he said he was a great deal better.

Will you tell us what happened later that night?

Yes.

He went out that night about nine o'clock.

And before going out, he said, if you please give me the passkey.

I'm not sure, but I may be late.

Yes, carry on.

I saw him next about half past two on the Monday morning.

He did not use the key, you understand.

The bell rang with great violence, and I rose at the bell.

I rose and I called who's there.

He said, it is I, Mrs. Jenkins, open the door if you please.

Then when I opened the door, he was standing with his arms

closed across his stomach.

He said, I'm very bad.

I'm going to have another vomiting.

Vomiting of that bile.

Well, the first time he'd been ill, I had said that,

smile, and he had replied, I never had bile.

I never was troubled with bile.

Then I said, have you taken anything that has disagreed with you,

referring there, if you understand to the food

he might have took at Bridge of Allen?

And he said in reply to that, no, I have taken nothing.

I never was better than when I was at the course,

meaning as I understood, meaning at Bridge of Allen.

Yes, and I was well at Bridge of Allen.

When I walked with William Minow there,

and we spoke of our marriage, you shall

see what her good wife I'll make.

And he said, I don't doubt it.

And after the doctor left.

Well, Gelly asked me what the doctor thought.

He thinks you will get over it, I said, which was the truth.

He shook his head.

I'm far worse than the doctor thinks.

Well, I remember that is what he said.

And several times I went in, he kept saying,

if I could get some sleep, I should be better then.

And then when it came to nine o'clock

and I drew the curtains to let in the light,

oh, he looked so badly then.

I asked if there was anyone he'd like to see.

He asked to see a Miss Perry.

Oh, yes, oh, yes, he would, of course.

And did Miss Perry come?

She came too late.

Miss Perry did come, yes, but she came too late.

When did Miss Perry come?

Miss Perry came about 10 o'clock,

and I asked if she was the intended.

Are you the intended, madam?

But she said, oh, no, I'm only a friend.

Well, I had supposed, when Longjelly

asked to see her that she was the intended.

Anyway, I told her he was dead.

Oh, she was very sorry at the news, very strikingly so.

Oh, very overwhelmed.

She cried a great deal.

I'm surprised.

And when she said that she was not the intended,

were you surprised at that too?

Well, no.

When she told me she was not the intended,

I said I helped.

He was going to be married and how sorry the lady would be.

And when you said that the intended would be sorry,

now did she make any answer to that?

She told me not to say much about the intended,

or to leave the matter alone.

I wonder how old she is.

When I'm as old as Mrs. Jenkins, I

shall take such care of my hair and skin

that all the world will look at me and think

what a young, old lady I am.

Come on.

This evening now, would you like something to read?

I shall write to Mama and Papay, think.

Seeing they do not see fit to come to court.

None of my family see fit to come.

Do you think that's right, Miss Aiken?

I know some people are surprised

they were not called as witnesses.

Oh.

Born to see them in the box.

But all the same when all the world is in court

and all the world is here, you know,

the newspapers they relish every word.

And they sketch me all the time, you know.

But that is what keeps them away.

The fact that all the world is here, as you put it,

and I'm glad no one came today.

It's really been so tedious.

I know that the medical evidence is important.

Mr. Ingle says it.

I am sure you have to trust him as to Ingle.

That horrible little man with his talk of intestines and so forth.

And would you believe at the end of it all,

Lord Hope paid him a compliment,

said he'd never heard anything more distinct?

Well, I found it distinctly tedious.

But there must have been some substance in the evidence.

Oh, yes.

There were 82 grains of arsenic found in the stomach.

And that is a very large dose, you understand.

Indeed it is.

Mr. Ingles made out that such a large dose

must surely infer suicide.

But I don't think it weighed much with Lord Hope.

He looks so disbelieving.

And they spoke of the symptoms of cholera.

And then of the cocoa, of course.

The cocoa they suppose I gave a meal.

The particles of arsenic in the cocoa

and whether they taste foul or not.

They argue so, you see.

Why?

It's plain, it's plain, you see.

They did not find any coloring in the stomach.

And the arsenic I bought from Murdoch was colored with salt

and from curry with indigo.

And so how could I separate the coloring before?

But then again, if there was coloring,

maybe it was thrown out with the vomit.

You talk of it so freely.

If I am innocent, why not?

Isn't that what you would expect?

I shall tell you something.

I did not pay for the arsenic from Murdoch.

And so the bill would have gone through to papa

on his account, I mean.

Now, if I had wanted the arsenic for something improper,

for taking as a tonic and not just to whiten my skin,

or would I have left it unpaid for like that

for papa to see and make a comment,

I know you say the arsenic was for a cosmetic

for whitening the skin,

but surely he would have thought that wrong of you.

papa likes it when I look pleasing

and gentlemen pay me compliments.

If they are gentlemen, that is.

Or rich.

That's why he didn't like a meal,

who was only a poor clown.

Besides, all fathers wish their daughters to be married.

Do they?

Oh, I'm sorry.

No?

Well, something troubles you.

Yes.

Something you said just now.

When you say taking arsenic, you mean internally.

A meal took arsenic as a tonic.

A sort of elixir.

He did.

And he took laudanum too,

more than he needed for his aches and pains.

I only took something once when I was very low one time.

It only made me a hot and ill.

Oh, I am low now, Miss Aiken.

I want papa to come.

And yet I know that today,

it isn't just the newspapers,

it's his friends, people he used to know.

papa feels all my shame, you see, he feels it bitterly.

His true friends will stand by him.

Will they?

Of course.

I don't know.

This afternoon they call August de Mien.

He's chancellor to the French Consul.

He knew he knew quite well.

They were friends, but I never liked him.

And after he found out that my father disapproved

of me meeting a meal,

he grew cold to both of us.

Yes, especially me.

I remember Longelier came to my office a few weeks

before his death, and he spoke about Miss Smith.

I said Miss Smith was to be married

to some gentleman, Mr. Minnok.

Longelier said that it wasn't true,

and he had documents in his possession

that would be sufficient to forbid the balance.

And did you see Longelier again?

I did not see Longelier again before his death,

but I knew the correspondence between Longelier and Miss Smith

and felt it my duty to mention it to Mr. Smith,

so he could take steps to exonerate his daughter.

You say you mentioned it to Mr. Smith?

Did you see Miss Smith on the occasion?

No, I saw Miss Smith later in the presence of her mother.

I apprised Miss Smith of the death of Longelier,

and asked her if she'd seen him on Sunday night.

She told me she did not see him.

Carry on, please.

Well, I observed to her that Miss Longelier

had come from Bridget Valant to Glasgow

on a special invitation by her, by a letter written to him.

And her response?

Miss Smith told me she was not aware

that Longelier had been at Bridget Valant

before he came to Glasgow.

It will come out that I knew, of course.

Yes, sir. Later you speak of.

The letter you think brought him back.

Did you know of this matter yourself?

I heard there had been such a letter.

And you say the mother was present

throughout your meeting with Miss Smith?

Yes, my lord.

You may continue.

Was anything Father said of the letter?

The letter that summoned him back.

Well, then I asked how it was.

Being engaged to be married to another gentleman,

she could have carried on a clandestine correspondence

with a former sweetheart.

She told me she did it in order to get her other letters back.

Did you ask if it was happy?

It was her meeting Longelier?

Yes. I asked if it was true

that Longelier had appointments in her home.

And she told me he'd never entered into that house,

meaning the house in Blythewood Square.

That's not what Christina Hagert will say.

But then it can't be helped.

To return to the letters, Miss Houdimio.

The correspondence that went before.

Did she speak about it at all?

Yes.

I asked if it was true

that she'd signed the letters in Longelier's name.

Do you mean she signed his name to her?

I mean, she signed her letters as Mimi Longelier.

Did she tell you why she did so?

I did not ask.

Thank you, my lord. That will.

You could have asked, you know.

I would have said I wanted to be his wife,

and that's why I used his name.

I loved him. I did.

But then Papa indented me for money, and later on I saw that he was right.

I wanted to be William Minnow's wife.

My name is William Harper Minnuch.

I'm a merchant in Glasgow and a partner of the firm of John Holsworth and Company.

I live in Main Street above the house of Mr. James Smith.

I have been intimately acquainted with his family for upwards of four years,

and I made proposals of marriage to Miss Smith on the 12th of March.

Has she accepted me?

The time of our marriage was fixed between us.

There was nothing which suggested any doubt to my mind

as to whether our engagement should continue.

And I was aware of no attachment or peculiar intimacy between her and any other man.

The time of the marriage was fixed for the 18th of June.

You see, you met her again at dinner

at Mr. Middleton's house on the 25th of March.

You were not aware of anything wrong.

But you called at her house the following day, and you learned that she had left.

I called on Thursday morning, the 26th.

She was not in the house.

Well, I was told that she'd left the house, and then with Miss Smith's brother,

I went to the Smith's Country House, or Allen, to look for her.

We went by train to Greenham.

But then on board the steam.

We found her on board the steamer.

She said she was going to Row Allen.

Why had she left her father's house?

Would you ever ask her again?

Well, I renewed the inquiry at Row Allen.

She said she felt distressed that her papa and mama

should be so much annoyed at what she had done.

And Mr. Smith told me she had left the house that morning.

When I asked him the reason, he said it had been some old love affair.

I understood her to refer to that.

In the answer she made to me, she gave no further explanation.

And you spoke of a further meeting in Glasgow.

Now, who raised the question of Long Jelier's death?

Miss Smith introduced the subject,

referring to the report of Long Jelier's having been poisoned.

Well, it was, I suppose, about half past nine in the morning.

I'd called to inquire about Mrs. Smith as I'd heard she was unwell.

Have you heard of anything further to add to that, Mr. Min?

Well, my meeting with Miss Smith was accident.

And there has been no other?

There has been no other.

My dear Mary Jane, this trial seems to go on forever

and how much longer I still do not know.

First, I want to thank you for today,

for giving her evidence so clear and sweetly.

Mr. Ingles says it is a good point in my favour

that we went together to the chemist,

and I bought the arsenic so openly.

You will understand why I said it was for the rats,

because I wanted it for my complexion

and they wouldn't have sold it to me for that,

for a chemist can understand rats, but not fair skin.

Well, I will say, dear Mary,

ever since I have known you in all the days since school,

you have never been jealous of my looks.

I cannot say the same of others.

Women...

I mean...

There are two due to testify tomorrow,

and what feelings they have towards me, I don't know.

The one is Mary Perry, a great friend of Emile's.

The other is our servant, Christina Hagert.

Although she has married

and is Mrs. Mackenzie.

No.

Now, Mrs. Mackenzie,

the visits made by Longjelly to the house.

You have described a visit during the day.

Did he ever come at night?

He came back to the house at night.

He came back off no more than once.

How many times did he come back at night?

I don't think more than three or four times.

And of what time of night did he come?

He came about ten o'clock before the family

retired to their rooms,

while they were all at home, as far as I can remember.

On the occasion to speak her, did he enter the house?

On these occasions, he stood at the back gate.

He did not come into the house.

He did not, to my knowledge, come into the house.

Might he have come into the house without your knowledge?

I don't know if he came in.

But you do know he came to the back gate.

Was it locked, you know?

I opened the gate.

Well, opened the back gate at her directions at Miss Smith's directions.

She asked me to open the gate for a friend.

Be with me, please. I would like to get this clear.

You heard footsteps coming through the gate

and you went into the kitchen.

You did not hear where Miss Smith went.

And you did not hear the door of your room being shut.

That is the servant's room.

You will remember Miss Smith's left with her sister.

And the sister was presumably in bed.

So you stayed in the kitchen with the cook

and you stayed, that you stayed longer than usual?

Why?

Miss Smith had told me to stay in the kitchen a little

because she was to see her friend.

Did she tell you where she was to see her friend?

No.

So you stayed in the kitchen with Mrs. McLean, the cook?

And I wonder, did it occur to you, did you know where Miss Smith might be?

Why was she sat in the kitchen?

No.

You did not know that she was in your bedroom?

I didn't know that she was in my bedroom.

I must press you, Mrs. McInsey.

He did not once enter your mind.

Well, I had no doubt that she was there, but no.

I did not know it.

No.

Some day, the 22nd of March, the night before Long Jelier's death,

you saw Mr. McInsey out.

You left Miss Smith at family prayers,

and you did not see her again that night.

No.

Now, for any reason, Mrs. McInsey,

any reason to suppose that Miss Smith had made an appointment for that evening?

Well, she hadn't approached you for help in any way.

For instance, with the back door or the gate?

She gave me no reason to think she had a meeting.

Oh, of course she may not have needed your help that night.

But tell me, though, this back door to the house.

Now, could that be opened, do you think, without you being aware that it was opened?

What manner of door is it? A door that opens silently?

Well, the back door makes no noise unopening.

The lock makes a considerable noise.

And your bedroom, with relation to the store, with regards to your hearing, the lock.

Now, is your bedroom with some distance from the door?

No.

My room is close.

Thank you, Mrs. McInsey.

Why should you have been afraid of Christina Hackett?

It seemed to me she wanted to protect you rather than the reverse in the event.

Oh, yes. I do not know the history, of course.

My feelings have been mixed, that's all.

Sometimes I like to well enough.

But then...

Oh, I don't know.

I think she had a liking for a meal.

And on his side, for instance, we're buying a red dress.

I didn't think that was a thing to do.

And the way they stood there at the gate, making their plans and whispering.

Mr. McInsey saw them once, and Christina said he might take jealous,

and so would I write a note to say that your meal was a friend of mine.

But why was it in her head at all?

Except she had a liking for a meal.

Mind you, most ladies did.

Do you know he'd been engaged to at least two ladies and both of them much older than himself?

One wouldn't have him in the end.

She turned against him quite suddenly and he was almost mad with grief.

He described it to me at Row Allen, one night when we were in the woods.

Yes, that was wet on his eyelashes.

We came out in the moonlight and I saw.

Fancy after all those years, just talking of it,

and to be distressed.

He could be very soft, very feeling, you know.

It was like two persons in a way, sometimes so cold and flaming cross.

And other times when he talked about France and how he was at the barricades

when all the fighting was on and how he served with this distinguished man,

he was so excited then.

I loved hearing it. I truly did.

And when I was very sad one day, he went to his friends at the Botanic Gardens

and he brought me back a present of two fish, one silver and one gold.

I couldn't keep them anywhere, but still.

I had to do everything for him, arranging things.

I mean, tell him when he came at night how to stoop down by the grid

and pretend to tie his shoes so as to slip the ladder down, he couldn't think of that himself.

And only using brown envelopes so they wouldn't show up in the night so much,

not choosing his own writing for the address.

Although I meant him to disguise his hand and he misunderstood,

he asked Huggins the Packer to do it at the warehouse, which was most indiscreet.

But then he was talking about me to Stevenson at work and to me

and that man at his lodgings, that man, Mr. Thore,

even bringing him direct to the house and showing him where he tucked with his stick for a signal,

bringing and showing him.

I mean, can you imagine, Miss Eak?

And if we had a loaked, I'd have had to arrange it all.

It would have had no notion of what it was and no enjoyment of it.

I mean, the sheer clandestineness and you would have enjoyed it.

Oh, yes, of course.

I did love Emil.

They won't read all the letters out.

They's not the warmest passages I know.

Mr. Moncliff has seen to that.

But if they did, I wouldn't mind Miss Eak.

Because all the things they think the worst, the parts they call indecent and so wrong,

those are the parts I meant the most.

Some of the parts I didn't mean at all, but I really meant those.

When I saw the wet on his eyelashes, I felt so very weak as if I had no bones in all my body.

Oh, it's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?

I cannot understand these things.

But then you're not married, are you?

No.

Well, the same with Mary-Parry.

How could she understand me and Emil?

I'd rather think she wanted to be married.

For all her age, however old she is, I'm sure she'd have had him herself.

What?

Oh, yes, Emil, I mean, only he'd have countenanced it.

And anyway, she may have had some hopes.

My name is Mary-Arthur Perry.

I live at 144 at Remfrew Street Glasgow, and I became acquainted with the late Mr. Longelier

about the end of 1853.

We attended the same chapel, that is St. Jude's.

Then in the spring of 1855, I came to know him very well,

and the friendship grew even stronger from then on.

You see, at that time he had heard of his news of his brother's death,

and he was indeed in very great distress.

In the early part of that summer, he told me he was engaged to Miss Madeline Smith,

and I was aware from him from that time forward of the progress of his attachment and correspondence.

In August 1855, I was introduced to Miss Smith.

He brought her to call on me.

I wanted to please him, you see.

After that, I received several letters from her.

That's why I wrote, to please Emil.

Yes, production number 141 is a letter from Longelier to me, dated Bridgerfallen 20th March.

Please, could you read the last paragraph to the court?

I should have come to see someone last night, but the letter came too late.

What did he mean by that?

To whom do you think that paragraph referred?

I understood it referred to Miss Smith.

Longelier, he had dined with you on the Tuesday 17th February.

He told you that he expected to see Miss Smith becoming thirsty.

You next saw him on the 2nd of March, at which time he was looking ill.

He mentioned falling on the floor, not being able to ring the bell.

And you believed that illness to be on the 19th of February.

Is that correct, Miss Perri?

From circumstances, I knew it was the 19th.

Did he tell you that he had seen Miss Smith on the 19th?

No, he did not tell me that.

But he told me of having had a cup of chocolate that made him unwell.

He told me of that on the 9th of March.

But you saw him on the 2nd of March.

He made no mention of the chocolate then.

Well, no.

On the 2nd of March, he said he could see no clear cause for the illness.

But on the 9th, he said, I can't think why I was so unwell after getting that coffee and chocolate from her.

Her?

I understood he meant Miss Smith.

He was talking about her at the time.

He was talking of his extreme attachment to her.

He spoke of it as a fascination.

Can you remember the words he used?

I can.

He said, it is a perfect fascination, my attachment to that girl.

If she were to poison me, I would forgive her.

I said, well, what motive could she have for giving you anything to hurt you?

He said, I don't know that.

Perhaps she might not be sorry to be rid of me.

It's very important, Miss Perri, to know in what manner he said those things.

If it was said lightly as a jest or if it was said an urnist, the tone is very important.

All this was said in earnest, although the expression, be rid of me, that I interpreted in this way, that she meant to be rid of the engagement.

Yes, but surely.

Oh, if I might go on, if I might make it clear, from what he said to me, there was some suspicion in his mind as to what Miss Smith had given me.

But it was not a serious suspicion.

Now, Miss Perri, you put the date of Longjellius illness as the 19th.

You say you are convinced of it.

Yes.

His second illness was in the last week of February.

Therefore, the first illness was on the 19th.

And yet, my dear Miss Perri, when you were first examined, you had no recollection of it, did you?

You had no recollection of that date.

Well, no, that's true.

It was suggested to me by the Prokyrator's office.

Suggested, they said that the 19th was the date mentioned in the pocketbook as the date of the first illness.

As the pocketbook belonging to Longjellius?

Yes.

When was your meeting with the Prokyrator's office?

On the 4th of June.

And before the 4th of June, before you learned what date was in the book, you had no memory of that date yourself.

Until I was told, I did not recollect the 19th as the day, but then I did recall it only some days afterwards.

And so, Longjellius brought Miss Smith to see you.

Because you knew Miss Smith, Mr. Smith, perhaps?

I was not acquainted with the family, no.

And Longjellius was not acquainted with Miss Smith's family either, was he?

Did you know that, Miss Fenn?

Yes, I knew that.

And it didn't trouble you knew that the family disapproved.

I was aware of it, yes.

And that any meetings between them would be clandestine?

I knew they met clandestinely.

Yes, well, of course you knew, because they met in your house.

But still it did not trouble you.

I wrote on one occasion to Miss Smith advising her to mention it to her parents.

Yes, you corresponded with both at one time.

And Longjellius wrote to you, was that much of a correspondence, would you say?

Longjellius was in the habit of writing to me.

Our correspondence went on for perhaps two years.

How did you address each other in these lessons?

Well, latterly, we addressed each other by our Christian names.

You addressed him as my dear Emil?

I addressed him by his surname.

He addressed me dear Mary, or my dear Mary.

Not dearest Mary?

No, never dearest Mary.

The letters that maddled in wrote to Emil were read out to the court.

They were read out on the Saturday, the fifth day of the trial, read out by the clock,

and heard in avid silence by the court.

My own, my beloved husband, thank you my love for coming so far to see you, me, me.

Beloved, if we did wrong last night, it was in the excitement of our love.

Yes, beloved, I did truly love you with all my soul.

Oh, if we could have remained, never more to have parted.

I must have seen very stupid to you last night, but everything goes out of my head when I see you.

She's my darling.

Miss Madeline, this is cool of us.

I own my beloved. She's enjoying it.

When I got in last night, I discovered several spots of blood on my clothes.

Why was that, I wonder?

What if anything was to occur? What would they say?

Darling, it is hard to resist the temptation of love.

I long to be your wife.

I grow excited while I write.

My heart loves you.

She's destroyed them, everyone.

Emil, for the love you once had for me, do nothing till I see you.

For God's sake, do not bring your once loved me me to open shame.

I have deceived you.

I have deceived you by telling you my mother knew of our engagement.

She did not. Emil, write to no one, to papar or any other, or do not till I see you on Wednesday night.

Be it the Hamelsons of Twelve, come to the area, Gaitner, she'll see you.

Oh, Emil, be not harsh to me. I am the most guilty, miserable wretch on the face of the air.

The letters written by Madeline Smith were judged admissible as evidence,

but was the same true of the pocketbook, kept by Emil.

During the weekend, their lordships met in order to debate and give a ruling.

Lord Ivory felt the daré should be admitted.

Lord's hope and hand decide did not.

So, me, me, a few moments, was very ill during the night, and that's dated February the 19th.

But it's odd, don't you think?

I think it's a toll before the 11th of that month.

At the very moment, she wishes to break off her engagement and demand the letters back.

Perhaps he had some purpose in these notes.

To prove he had the interviews with Miss Smith, hold them against her in some way.

Or else, of course, they are mere idle jottings, in which case...

I feel there is some danger here in admitting a private job.

I mean, in support of criminal charge.

There's a general point here, don't you think?

Well, we'll give our ruling on Monday, and then proceed to the defence.

They will try to discredit large LEA, of course.

Not that that should be too difficult.

A loose talker to a man, much given to vapouring and puffing himself up.

I've taken a dislike to him, I admit.

There was nothing to speak ill of the dead.

You are a bank clerk, are you not Mr. Obov?

That is correct.

And you met Long Jelier in Dundee at meetings of the Floral and Horticultural Society?

Yes.

Now, would you tell us his general subject of conversation?

Ladies.

Well, perhaps you could tell us a little more of Long Jelier and the ladies.

He talked of ladies always looking at him in the street,

and that he had considerable success in getting acquainted with such ladies.

He spoke of their falling in love with him.

Yet, however successful such a man might be in accomplishing his purpose with the ladies,

there must be times when he meets with a disappointment.

Now, did he ever speak to you such an occurrence?

Yes.

On one occasion, I heard him say what he might do if he met with a disappointment.

Go on.

Yes, one time he said he would think nothing of taking up a large knife and sticking it into himself.

Long Jelier told you that he was travelling in France with persons of distinction,

in what capacity?

He said that he had charge of their luggage, carriage and horses, sir.

Everything in fact.

Yeah, but the horses.

Now, was there anything in his care of them that you noted as being unusual?

Yes.

On one occasion, he said that the horses were very much knocked up,

and that he had given them arsenic so that they would be able to...

Never give me, because this evidence is most important, but was there a danger that you might have misunderstood him there?

I gather that he sometimes spoke in French when excited.

He was speaking in English at that time.

He's carrying on.

He said that he'd given it them to make them accomplish their journey.

I asked him if he was not afraid of poisoning them, and he said, oh no.

So far from doing that, he had taken arsenic himself.

He said that he often had pains in his back, and a little difficulty in breathing,

and he said that it had a good effect in that way.

Did you ever see any arsenic in his possession?

I am not sure that he ever showed me arsenic.

But when he complained of these pains in his back?

Oh, I'd rather think he did.

On that occasion, he opened his desk and showed me a paper containing something quite...

Thank you.

Now, answer this carefully.

Did you ever see him take any dangerous substance?

Now, any substance which you might consider to be dangerous?

I have seen him on more than one occasion.

It popisits in large quantities and handfuls.

I express surprise.

I thought popisits dangerous because opium is extracted from them.

Yes, Mr. Ogleman.

Opium is extracted from them.

Well, it's done now.

I've done my best.

It isn't done at all. You still have the address to the jury.

No, with the witnesses, I mean.

I couldn't press the suicide much further.

As it is, I may have pressed too hard.

Are you tired, Mr. Ingles?

I have got through 31 witnesses today.

Yes, I'm tired, Miss Nother.

Then I suggest you go home and retire to your bed rather than chatter here with me.

Some of the witnesses prove vague.

I think in truth, I ran ahead. It did not work.

Well, if you did, it's passed.

And anyway, I need my sleep if you don't.

I like to look my best in court.

They shunt of the satisfaction of seeing me worn, looking worn out and wretched.

Do you ever look worn out and wretched?

Yes, not very often.

Well, I shall say good night.

Yes, you're right about sleep.

Mancreif will speak tomorrow.

Speaks too well for me to doze in court, I think.

But you'll speak better, Mr. Ingles. I know you will.

On Tuesday, the seventh day of the trial, the Lord Advocate, James Mancreif, addressed the jury.

In his day-long speech, he missed nothing that would tell against the prisoner.

While the prisoner in the position of this unfortunate lady is justly entitled to say that such a crime shall not be lightly presumed or proved against her.

Yet, gentlemen, if the charges in the indictment be true, you are trying a case of a school premeditated deliberate homicide

as ever justly brought its perpetrator within custom and penalty of law.

These two persons met, and with the cause of 1856, act of improper connection took place.

She had so completely committed herself by the end of the year that she was, I will not say in Longjelly's power, he was in hers.

But she belonged to him and could with honor belong to no one else.

But her affection began to cool. Another super appeared.

She endeavored to break off a connection with Longjelly by co-vis.

She asked him to return her letters. He refused and threatened to put the letters into the hands of her father.

It was then she saw the position she was in.

She writes in despair to Longjelly to give her back her letters. He refused.

There is one interview. She attempts to buy a prussic acid. There is another interview. She has bought art.

There is a third interview. She has bought arsenic again.

Her letters instead of being cold once again assume all the warmth of affection they had the year before.

On the 12th of March, she has been with Mr. Miloch, making arrangements for her marriage in June.

She buys arsenic on the 18th. On the 21st, she invites Longjelly with all the ardor of passion to come and see her.

And Longjelly dies of poison on the morning of the 23rd.

I will now go to the defense, which as I gather will probably be set up. No, gentlemen.

I will go into it in the spirit of candor as well as justice. If their case be suicide, you must consider the circumstances

under which this supposed suicide was committed.

Longjelly had a strong suspicion that there was something in the rumors about Mr. Miloch.

If they were true, he said, I will show these letters to her father. That is what he meant to do.

He did not mean to kill himself. He came from Bridge of Allen for the purpose of seeing this with the prisoner.

Very happy and good spirits, cheerful. He went out at night with a letter in his pocket from her to go to Blyswood Square.

Well, now is it conceivable that without having gone near the house, he committed suicide.

Is it in the least likely that a man in his position would go to Blyswood Square and swallow dry arsenic there and then totter home and die?

Gentlemen, that is the supposition which is entirely inconceivable.

Well, now gentlemen, as I have said, I leave the case in your hands. I can see no outlet for this unhappy prisoner.

And if you come to the same result as I have done, then there is but one course over to you.

And that is to return a verdict of guilty of this charge.

Gentlemen of the jury, the charge against the prisoner is murder, and the punishment of murder is death.

And that simple statement is sufficient to suggest to us the awful solemnity of the occasion which brings you and me face to face.

But I am going to ask you for something very different from commiseration.

I am going to ask you for that for which I will not condescend to beg, but which I will loudly and unfortunately demand.

That's to which every prisoner is entitled, whether she be the lowest and vilest of her sex or the maiden whose purity is as the unsung snow.

I ask you for justice.

And if you will kindly lend me your attention for the requisite period, and if heaven grant me strength and patience for the task,

I shall tear to tatters that web of sophistry in which the prosecution has striven to involve this poor girl and her sad, strange story.

I say therefore, ponder well before you permit anything short of the clearest evidence to induce or mislead you into giving such an awful verdict as is demanded of you.

Reflect. I beseech you, reflect what the consequences may be.

Never did I feel so unwilling to part with a jury.

Never did I feel as if I had said so little as I feel now after this long address.

I cannot explain it to myself, except by a strong and overwhelming conviction of what your verdict ought to be.

I am deeply conscious of a personal interest in your verdict.

But if there should be any failure of justice, I could attribute it to no other cause other than my own inability to conduct the defense.

And I feel persuaded that if it were so, the recollection of this day and this prisoner would haunt me as a dismal and blighting specter to the end of life.

May the spirit of all truth guide you to an honest, adjust, and a true verdict.

But no verdict can be either honest or just or true unless it at once satisfies the reasonable scruples of the severest judgment,

and yet leaves undisturbed and unvexed the timorous conscience among you.

Now the great and invaluable use of a jury is to separate firmly and clearly in their own minds, suspicion from evidence.

Therefore, if you cannot say, we find here satisfactory evidence of this meeting on the evening of March the 22nd,

and that the poison must have been administered by the prisoner at this meeting, whatever your suspicion.

However heavy, the weight of suspicion is against her, and however you have to struggle to get rid of it,

you will do your best and bound in duty as a jury to separate suspicion from truth

and to proceed on nothing that you do not find satisfactory in the evidence against her.

I am perfectly satisfied that whatever verdict you give, after the attention that you have bestowed upon this case,

it will be the best approximation to truth at which we could arrive.

And you may feel perfectly confident that if you return a verdict satisfactory to yourselves against the prisoner,

you will have done your duty under your oaths, under God and to your country,

and may feel satisfied that remorse you can never have.

Gentlemen of the jury who speaks for you, I do, and what is your verdict?

The jury find the panel not guilty on the first count of administering the poison on the first occasion by a majority.

On the second charge of administering the poison on the second occasion, not proven,

and by a majority find the third charge of administering the poison on the third occasion not proven.

Ms. Madeline Smith later became Mrs. George Wardle and had two children.

When she was over 70, she emigrated to America where her son was working.

She lived there till the age of 93.

By all accounts, a very fine figure of a woman, a very young old lady,

and when she died, her death certificate gave her age as 64.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.

She was a very young woman.