I remember with what awe we gazed at Cook's grave after the body had been exhumed and returned to its resting-place. We knew that some part of the body had been taken away and sent to London for great men to examine. We boys even discussed the ultimate destination of the parts taken away, and wondered if they would ever get back to poor Cook. How well I remember the exciting events of that long and dramatic trial in London! Rugeley people were poor in those days, and newspapers were dear, so we borrowed where we could, and lent to others when we possessed. I read aloud the records of that trial to all sorts of poor people, so I have cause to remember it. I prosecuted Palmer, and I defended him; I was witness, and I was judge; I claimed a triumphant acquittal, and I demanded his condemnation; I cross-examined the great analyst, and even at that age began to learn something of the nature and effects of strychnine. I thrilled with it all, but I believed Palmer to be innocent, and in a measure I was proud of a townsman who could stand up bravely against all the big men in London and show no fear. Oh, but he was a brave man! He must be innocent! And when the trial was all over, and Palmer was brought to Stafford to pay the penalty of his crime, do I not remember how all the world rushed to Stafford to see him hanged? Ay, I remember how people tramped all day through Rugeley to Stafford, and how they stood all through the night in Stafford streets waiting, waiting for eight o'clock the next morning. Yes, I remember it all; and I remember, too, that the cherries in a certain garden nevermore had any attractions! But I remember, too, that Palmer died game, showing no fear, betraying no anxiety, with a good appetite to the last and a firm step to the scaffold.
Surely Palmer was innocent, and was supported by the knowledge of his innocence. Murderers had fearsome consciences; they were haunted by a sense of their guilt, and by the eyes or the spirits of their victims.
So I felt and so I reasoned about murderers when I was a boy. I have since those days had many opportunities of correcting my judgment, and now I no longer believe that a bold, cool, collected behaviour, together with the possession of a good appetite, is synonymous with innocence. For I have seen enough to justify me in saying that a calm and brave bearing is more likely to be indicative of guilt than of innocence. But the public and certain portions of the press still translate callous behaviour into a proof of innocence, and sometimes convert prisoners into heroes.