Icklesham Sussex 1858 Another case of Uxoricide

The turbulent marriage of John and Susanna White ends with murder

35-year-old John White married 31-year-old Susanna Wellden on 20 April 1845 at St. Mary-the-Virgin Church in Dover, Kent.

Before marrying John White, Susannah had two daughters: Mary Ann Abott Wellden, born in 1838, and Louisa Wellden, born in 1843. Later, both girls listed John Wellden as their father on their marriage certificates. On Mary Ann's baptism record, both she and Susannah used the surname Abott Wellden. I have not found any reliable records of Susannah marrying a man named John Wellden, and he was not mentioned on the girls' baptism records.

When Susanna and John White married, Susanna was three months pregnant. Their daughter Phoebe was born on 29 October 1845.

After Phoebe was born, John and Susanna had five more children: John (1847), Susanna (1849), Charles (1851), Deborah (1853), and Robert (1857).

When I searched for them in the 1851 census, I couldn't find a John White, but I did find a Joseph White with the same wife and children, plus a son named George. George was born in 1837 at Kennet Wharf, Reading, Berkshire, to Mary White, formerly Allen. At the time of George's birth, John was working as a lock keeper.

I then checked criminal records for a Joseph White in Berkshire and found a match. Searching old newspapers, I found a report in the Berkshire Chronicle from 28 July 1827 about the summer Assizes. Joseph White, age 17, and John Slaughter, age 22, were convicted of burglary and stealing bacon. The record says they were sentenced to death, but a newspaper report says the judge decided they would get life and be transported instead. I also found a report in the London Evening Standard from 12 September 1827 that seven men, including Joseph and James, escaped from Reading prison. It's possible that Joseph changed his name to John to avoid capture. Susanna may have known, since he used the name John for their marriage but Joseph in the census—perhaps it was just a slip.

After their family grew, they moved from Dover to Ferry Row in the village of Icklesham, East Sussex. John worked as a labourer at Rye Harbour, while Susanna cared for their children at home.

The move was a big change for Susanna. She left the busy town of Dover, where she had grown up with family and friends, and moved to a village over 36 miles away. She spent her days alone with the children while John worked long hours at Rye Harbour.

Their new life quickly became difficult. On Tuesday morning, 27 July 1858, the mood in the White household was tense. John and Susanna argued, and Susanna wanted to return to Dover more than ever. She threatened to 'go tell the harbour foreman,' possibly about John's past. John replied that it would be a 'bad day' for her. After a long silence, Susanna left, slamming the door, and John followed soon after. When neither came back, the children searched for their mother but could not find her.

The results of their argument became clear the next morning. Richard Bush, walking along the footpath by the railway to the harbour, saw a woman's body in a shallow ditch. News of the discovery reached PC Butcher, who recognized Susanna White when he saw her. He went to their house to look for John White but found only the frightened, hungry children. He gave them food and asked a kind neighbour to look after them.

A post mortem was done at Rye gaol, which helped clarify how Susannah died. She had bruises on her head and face, and several marks that looked like attempts to cut her throat. There were puncture wounds on her upper chest and the other side, but none of these injuries would have caused her death. These wounds were likely caused during a struggle. She may have escaped but was caught again near the ditch, where her head was held under water and mud until she suffocated.

An inquest was held in Rye after these discoveries. It was reported that John and Susanna were often unhappy and argued frequently. On the morning of her death, they were heard arguing, and John was overheard saying he would do away with his wife.

Susanna White's funeral was held on Saturday, 31 July. That same day, a policeman arrested John in Icklesham on suspicion of murder. He looked dirty, tired, and exhausted. If he had arrived about two hours earlier, he would have met his wife's funeral procession on its way to the cemetery.

John was supposed to appear in court in Rye on Monday, 2 August, but there was some uncertainty about whether the murder happened in Icklesham or Rye parish. It was eventually decided that the incident took place in Icklesham, so a new inquest was held there. The result was the same, and John was charged with the willful and premeditated murder of his wife, Susanna White.

After several court sessions, the case was sent to the Assizes for trial.

The case was finally heard on 21 March 1859 at the Spring Assizes, starting at 10 am before Justice William Wightman.

The following gentlemen were sworn on the GRAND JURY.

Mr G. Dauby, Esq, Foreman. Gen. Davies, Mr G. Gatty, Esq., Mr R. Aldridge, Esq., Mr B. Godlee, Esq., Mr John Aldridge, Esq, Mr H. Ingram, Esq., Mr J. G. Blencowe, Esq., Mr R. B. Kaye, Esq., Mr E. S. Bigge, Esq., Mr J. M. Norman, Esq., Mr G. C. Courthope, Esq., Mr W. D. L. Shadwell, Esq. Mr H. P.Crofts, Esq., Mr J W. Sergison, Esq., Mr G. Darby, Esq., Mr B. Stent, Esq., Mr G. C. Dalbiac, Esq., Mr W. L. Christie, Esq., Mr J. Ellman, Esq., Mr A. Smith, Esq.

The following magistrates also answered to their names:—Mr W. Borrer, jnr., Esq , Mr Thomas. Brown, Esq. Mr W. J. Campion, Esq., Mr H. Ingram, Esq., Mr R. Loder, Esq., Lieut.-Col. Carr Lloyd, Mr W. Morgan, Esq., Mr G. Molineux, Esq., and Mr W F. Smith, Esq.

The usual proclamation against vice morality having been read, his Lordship proceeded to deliver his charge to the Grand Jury as follows:—

''Gentlemen of the Grand Jury of the County of Sussex. Though I fear I cannot congratulate you upon the good state the calendar is in point of the number of prisoners—for I believe they are rather above the usual average at the Spring Assizes of this county—yet I am happy to find that it is by means unusually heavy in point of quality of crime, as there is no case of any peculiar atrocity, with one exception. The exception alludes to a charge against a man named White for the wilful murder of his wife. There can be no doubt, looking at the circumstances under which the body of the deceased woman was found, and the medical testimony adduced, that she must have been murdered by somebody. The charge against the husband is not founded upon direct, but upon circumstantial evidence; the statements and declarations made by himself are said to show conclusively that he, and he alone, is the person who committed the fearful crime, and it is further said that he did it from motives of jealousy. If the evidence that comes before you is the same as that which appears in the depositions laid before me, you will no doubt feel it your duty to find a bill for the charge of murder, for, according to the evidence, there do not appear any circumstances in the case to call upon you to reduce the offence to manslaughter.

Among the other cases, I regret to say there are two charges—distinct charges of arson, a crime of the worst and most dangerous character —which I fear are increasing, as there have been several cases of arson tried before us on this present circuit. There is also a charge of manslaughter —a man named Bedwell killing his wife. The question for you to consider will be whether the woman's death was caused by a blow from the prisoner, or by a fall, and if by a fall, you will have to consider whether the fall was occasioned by the husband, or was it accidental. The other cases do not appear to require any comment from me. Some of them are no doubt serious charges, but some of them are so slight that it is to be regretted they were not summarily dealt with under the provisions of the act enabling justices thus to deal with them. It is with great satisfaction that I observe no case of a juvenile offender—of all cases, there are none so difficult as these to deal with by those entrusted with the administration of criminal justice, and at the same time to regard the public interest and the interest of the unfortunate children. Much of the difficulty experienced, however, has lately been removed by the institution of reformatory schools. I do not know whether you have one or not, but if not, it is due time one of these useful institutions was established in your county''.

His lordship, in conclusion, observed that nothing further recurred to him to induce him to take up more of their valuable time, and after giving them some general instructions as to their mode of procedure, he dismissed them to their courtrooms.

When the case for John White came up, Mr Barrow and Mr Merrifield conducted the prosecution, and Mr Serjeant Parry and the Hon. Mr Denman defended the prisoner.

The prisoner was dressed in the same clothes as he wore at the time of his committal to prison on the charge. He looked very well in health, but it was apparent from his countenance that he was still under the influence of great mental suffering. He stood with his hands clasped and looked with a fixed eye out of the window at the back of the seat of the learned judge.

Mr Barrow opened the case in a very clear and able manner. The facts he observed lay within a very small compass, and he was glad that the crime was perpetrated so long ago as last July, because the jury would probably have dismissed from their minds many, if not all, the rumours that had been current respecting the affair. He called upon them to stay their decision until every fact that could be adduced in favour of the prisoner had been fully and fairly laid before them. He then detailed the facts of the case and called the witnesses.

Louisa Weldon was first called. She was described as a very interesting girl and was seated in the witness box. She gave her evidence in a very firm tone.

''The deceased was my mother; the prisoner is not my father. I lived with them at Dover and went with them when they moved to the harbour. He went first, and we followed. We lived close to the railroad in Rye. There are six children younger than me. They are his children. I am sixteen years of age. The prisoner and my mother did not live happily together. On the morning of 27 July, they were at home. Mother said she would go down to the harbour to see Mr Druce, to take her and her family back to Dover Harbour. Mr Druce was a sort of foreman. They had been quarrelling. The prisoner had been engaged at the works at Rye Harbour. The prisoner said to me it would be a bad day's work for her if she went and exposed him to the gentlemen at the Harbour. My mother had then left home. He went out about five minutes after her. This was 11 o'clock in the morning. I never saw my mother alive again, nor my father, till he was in custody. There was no one but me left to look after the children. The prisoner had a knife on the day before, namely Monday afternoon. I saw him put it in his pocket. It was a very large-bladed, clasped knife about five inches long. It is called a Russian knife.''

Cross-examined— ''He has had the knife for about two years. His brother made him a present of it; he brought it from the Crimea. The prisoner used to cut his bread and cheese with it.''

''The children were playing with it on Monday.''

''I have lived with him ever since I can remember.''

''He got a great deal more wages at Rye than at Dover; he got 36s a week at Rye and 24s at Dover.''

''I don't know that he was in a state of great anxiety about losing his place at Rye. He was employed by the Government. He was afraid of losing his situation in Dover. ''

''They had been quarrelling a long time on the morning of the 27th July. He sent for a pint of porter and asked mother to partake of some, but she would not. ''

''I have an elder sister; she is a shoe binder and gets her own living. He apprenticed her.''

Next, it was Albert Ashdown, examined by Mr Barrow:

''I am a sawyer, and lived next door to the prisoner. A few minutes after 11 in the morning of July 27, I saw the deceased on the Winchelsea Road; she was going in the direction of the harbour, and the same direction as where her body was afterwards found. The prisoner came along about three or four minutes afterwards.''

A young post boy named Richard Bush then took the stand:

“I live at Rye Harbour and carry letters. On the morning of Wednesday, 28 July, I went from Rye Harbour to Rye to get the letters. I walked on the footpath near the railway. I saw a piece of a woman's frock in the ditch; I did not examine it, but went straight away to Rye. The same morning, as I was returning from Rye, I observed it again. It was a little more out of the water, and I found it was a woman's body. One of her hands and a part of her nose were out of the water. She was on her back. I went and called for assistance. This was about half-past eight o'clock in the morning.''

Next was Edward Warden :

''As I was going down to the harbour on the morning in question, in consequence of what the last witness told, I went to the ditch. I got assistance from a man named Kemp, and we pulled her out of the bank. There was three or four feet of mud, and inches of water.''

He then replied to the questioning by Mr Parry:

‘’It is an open place. The railway is as high as a lamp above the footpath. People often walk on there, and they would then be above the footpath.''

''It is soft, thin mud in the ditch.''

“The houses at Rye overlook some of the places in the marsh. There are some cottages about half a mile from the ditch. It is about three-quarters of a mile from the ditch to the harbour.''

''There are a great many persons employed at the harbour.''

''I do not know what sort of weather it was on that Tuesday.''

Witness Ashdown was recalled by Mr Sergeant Parry, and he said, in answer to his question, “It was a fine, bright morning on the Tuesday’’.

He was then re-examined by Mr Barrow:

''The body was about five rods from the embankment, which is between the spot and the town of Rye''

Next to the witness box was George Kemp:

“I live at Rye, and the little boy Bush called me on Thursday and said there was a woman drowned in the ditch. I went and helped pull her out. I stopped with the body and sent the lad to the police. P.C. Butcher came, and I pointed out the spot to him where we had drawn the body out. The body came out very heavily, and then I accompanied the body to the gaol.''

In reply to a question from Mr Parry:

“I did not notice that she was a large made woman.''

John Adamson, a surgeon at Rye, then stood in the witness box:

''I examined the body on 29 July along with the Coroner. I saw it near the ditch; it was covered with mud, and nothing could be seen until it was washed. I directed it to be washed. There was mud all over the body. I afterwards saw it in the gaol and found a number of bruises on the left side of the face and nose, four or five slight wounds in the throat, a punctured wound the right of the breast bone, which had not entered the chest but glanced under the skin about three inches, and a similar wound on the left side of the breast bone, only just penetrating the skin. . The right thumb was very much cut, one of the fingers of the left hand was cut, and there was a deep wound between the thumb and forefinger of the left hand. They all appeared as if they might have been done by the same instrument. The wound on the right breast led me to suppose that it was done with a long, slender knife. They had been done within two or three days. They were inflicted during life. They were not such that the woman could have inflicted them on herself because she must have done them with both hands. None of them, nor all the wounds, was sufficient to cause death. I consider that she died from suffocation. Whether she was suffocated by mud or water, the appearances would be the same.''

Next was P.C. Butcher:

“I am the gaoler at Rye. About nine o'clock, the evening of Wednesday, 28 July, I went to the prisoner's house, from information I had received. The prisoner was not at home. There were seven children in the middle of the room, crying. I supplied them with food, and the following morning, I got a woman to see to them. The next morning, on Friday, 30 July, Edward Warden called me, and I went to the ditch. I saw, on the opposite side of the ditch, the appearance of a person who had crossed with very muddy boots; the marks were on the grassland and the fence, which is the boundary of the railway. I also traced the muddy steps across a green field and across another field for 222 yards. There was one very plain impression.''

He continued ''About one hour after I had taken the body to the gaol for the coroner, I returned to the place and traced the footsteps 80 yards further, where it became beach. There is an old castle tailed to Camber Castle, and there is some gorse in that locality. I traced the footsteps up to within 118 yards of the gorse. ''

He then relayed the information on some witnesses who had seen a man hiding. Some boys on the 3rd of August pointed out a spot to me in the gorse. That was all black mud, and traces of where a person had crawled in and lain down. The gorse also grows upon the beach.

The witness then produced some of the pieces of gorse he had taken from near the spot before continuing.

''On 31 July (Saturday), I received some information which induced me to go to Wittersham, which is about 5 miles from Rye. I found the prisoner in the custody of a police constable. I told him he was charged with the wilful murder of his wife. He said, "How do you know that I murdered her? Did any person see me?" I told him it was a very serious charge, and that he had better not make any statement to me, as I would have to repeat it in evidence against him. He said he felt very faint and asked if he might have some beer. I took him across to the public house, and before he had any beer, he said ''Where are my dear children?" I told him I had provided for them. He then said, " Where have you taken my wife to?" I told him. He said, “What has taken place between my wife and me is a very bad job; it was all through a person named Barlow. This job might have been prevented, and he ought to have been punished for something that took place at Dover six months ago."

PC Butcher then said he had taken him in a cart to Rye with a man named Goodwin and another man. While in the cart, the prisoner took hold of the policeman's arm and said, "This is a bad job, Butcher. What happened between my wife and me was due to jealousy over a person named Barlow. I have seen him take improper liberties with my wife while at Dover." He said Barlow had also interfered with him on the works by using insulting language about his wife, and that Barlow was wearing some of his clothes and had got a cap belonging to him. During the conversation, Goodwin asked him if Barlow had ever lodged with him. He said no, but that Barlow was the cause of all the trouble.

PC Butcher then asked the prisoner where he last saw his wife. He replied The last time I saw her was alongside the railway. He then asked him if he had seen anyone afterwards, and he said three boys came while he was lying among the gorse near Camber Castle.

PC Butcher told the court that he took the prisoner to Rye gaol and examined his dress. His trousers appeared to have been washed about the knee. His coat was all mud, with black mud inside the pockets. The waistcoat in front was muddy; there were also spots of mud on his hat. He took his boots off. He had no stockings on. There was mud on his boots; his hands were stained with mud, although they had been washed. He had several small cuts on his hand. There was one larger cut on the palm of the hand, and another on the little finger; he had marks on his face as if made by someone's hands. There were some small spots of blood on the hind part of his trousers, and also on the coat and waistcoat.

About an hour after he got him to the gaol, PC Butcher compared his boot with the footmark. (He produced the boots to the court). The right boot corresponded with the footmark.

In reply to questioning from Mr Parry:

''The deceased was a fine, tall, large-made woman''

“I have known the prisoner for many years. I always knew him as a harmless, inoffensive man''.

''Never heard anything against him.”

“I knew him at Dover and lived next door to him. I have not seen him since 1848, until he came to Rye''.

Next witness was William Williams, in the Kent County Constabulary, stationed at Midhurst:

“I took the prisoner into custody on 31 July, between Wittersham and Rolvenden, about seven miles from Rye, where he was walking along the road. I asked him his name. He asked me why I wanted to know. I said I should take him on suspicion of murdering his wife at Rye. He asked me who saw him do it. When he got to the lock-up, he told me his name. His clothes were muddy, and water was in his coat pocket. I searched him and only found a pocket-book on him''.

In reply to questioning by Mr Parry:

He was in a wretched state, completely dejected. He seemed to be in a state of mental prostration.''

''I handed him over to PC Butcher.’’

Next, a boy named William Smith deposed:

“I live in Rye. I went with two other boys to Camber Castle on Tuesday, 27 July. We went after a bird's nest. It was a little after three in the afternoon. We went into the gorse, and I saw a man there lying down on his belly, with his arms round his face and his head down. I could not see his face. His clothes were all covered in black mud and wet. I called the others, and he lifted up his head and put it down again. We went away towards the seaside, and after we were gone, I saw the man standing in the gorse coming towards us. We went back afterwards on the footpath to Rye, and then we saw him again; he was then a good distance from us. I called out a good many times, "Here comes a policeman after you." He ran away as fast as he could towards Camber Castle. I saw the prisoner brought to Rye on the Saturday, his back looked like the man I had seen''.

Thomas Wilson was next in the witness box:

“I work for the Messrs. Lee at Rye Harbour. I have known the prisoner for several years. On Wednesday morning, about 20 minutes past 4, it was raining very hard, and I saw the prisoner coming from Camber Castle way when I was looking out of my bedroom window.''

In reply to questioning from Mr Parry—

''It was not far from the works where I saw him''.

“I have known him for years. He had worked for Messrs. Lee and Son for 10 or 12 years. He was an inspector under Mr Druce. I used to work for Mr Lee.''

''About a fortnight before the death of the woman, he said to me ''Thomas, give me your hand, I can't stop any longer here." I said, " John, whatever is the matter with you? I have known you for many years, and I have never seen you like this before." He shook hands with me, but made no answer, and when he went away, tears ran down his cheeks.''

''The works had been stopped at that time.''

''He was as nice and quiet a man as ever I wish to work with in all my life. He was a good workman and always attended his work."

''He worked with me for as many as nine or ten years.''

Re-examined by Mr Barrow:

''The pay went on although the works were stopped''.

A man named Charles Wilson the younger was called, but then relieved without examination.

Sergeant Hope Johnson then took the stand :

''On August 3, I conveyed the prisoner from Winchelsea to Lewes on this charge; he was then committed. During the journey, he said, "She agitated me, she agitated me to the last moment, and I took it all in good part, and if she had been persuaded by me and gone back, it would not have happened." He also said, "I went through several dikes, and I fell head-over-heels in one, and I was troubled to get out." I said to him, "I suppose you mean those dikes in the place by the castle?'' He said, "Yes.''

''I observed to him that he had cut his fingers, and I asked what had become of his knife. He said he did not know; he had it on Monday. He frequently mentioned his children and said, "Oh, if they would forgive me, what would I do for my children."

Supt Jeffery was then called to the stand:

''Butcher and Bush pointed out to me the spot where the body was found; it is not visible from any of the houses in Rye. It is eight feet below the level of the railway line.''

In reply to questioning by Sergeant Parry:

''I have not been examined before—I was brought here specially for this case''.

This was the end of the prosecution's case.

Mr Serjeant Parry then addressed the jury on behalf of the prisoner with a very eloquent speech.

He said he was very anxious about the case, not because he thought the jury, after the evidence that had been brought against this unfortunate man, would have any other than a favourable effect for the accused, but for fear that anything should be wanting his part that might contribute towards that result. He did not propose to address gentlemen in their station in life about the responsibility of their position as jurors. Nothing he could say to them would add to its weight. The life of the man at the bar was in their hands, and they had the power of saying whether he should live or die.

''During the remarks and the brief address I am about to make to you, if I am not mistaken, I should be able to demonstrate to you beyond any doubt that it is not proved to be a case of wilful and deliberate murder, such as would justify you in denouncing the accused and subjecting him to such a fearful and terrible verdict. The crime, wilful and deliberate murder, required no definition whatever from me. You all know, as I do, what it is. It was a crime against the law of God and nature. Every one of you understands it as if it were almost a natural instinct. I would ask you whether it was ever before proposed to a jury upon such a case, and some parts of it were such unintelligible, unexplained evidence, to take away the life of a fellow creature. It might be necessary sometimes to put a person on his trial for wilful murder, but the law allowed a jury to find a verdict of a more mitigated character. I am sure his lordship would tell you it is only by the most clear and conclusive evidence that you could convict a man for such an offence.''

Mr Parry then alluded to another case, 'Palmer', as a specimen of a wilful murder, and put it to the jury whether there was anything in the present case at all analogous to that.

The charge against the prisoner was that he feloniously, wilfully, and of malice aforethought committed the crime, and he respectfully submitted to them that there was not the slightest evidence to show that her death was caused by his hand. Many persons would conjecture this and that, but they must have a proof beyond all conjecture before they decide to take away this man's life.

''I would not attempt to deny that the man was not in some way connected with the death of his wife, for his own expressions tended to show that he knew something of it. But my instructions lead me to come to the conclusion that the statement the prisoner made about the man Barlow was altogether a delusion, and had nothing whatever to do with the quarrel that he had with his wife. The question: The conduct of the prisoner after the death of his wife was that of a man troubled, and of weak mind, of an abject, heartbroken maniac wandering about with no object in view. would suppose, for the sake of argument, although there was a total absence of all proof, that the man and his wife did have a struggle, and that she was suffocated in that water and mud, might she not have fallen in accidentally? He would not say she did, but it was just as possible as any other conjecture.''

In conclusion, Mr Parry alluded to the prisoner's good character and observed that he was a very steady and religious man.

The following witnesses were then called for the defence :

First was Henry Lee:

“I am one of the firm of the great contractors in London. The prisoner had been in our employment for years. He is a most kind and good-dispositioned man, and was always attentive to his duty''.

Next was William Wakeling, a paymaster at Rye:

I have known the prisoner for 11 years and can say conscientiously that he is well-behaved. He was as fond of his children as any man I ever knew, and he was as fond of his wife. I never saw him' intoxicated''.

Edward Druce then took the stand:

''I have known the prisoner for nine years, and I agree with the description that has been given of his character by the two other witnesses”.

The Learned Judge carefully summarised the case and drew the jury's attention to the principal points of the evidence. During his remarks, he observed that the jury had nothing to do with the consequences of their verdict; they had merely to decide as to the guilt or innocence of the prisoner and that they were satisfied beyond all reasonable doubt that he murdered his wife. If they were satisfied that he did, the next question was whether there were any circumstances in the evidence to justify them in reducing their verdict to the crime of manslaughter.

''I am bound to tell you that in the eye of the law, all cases of killing are presumed to be murder, unless there are circumstances of mitigation. The only direct evidence that has been produced was that the woman had been found dead—I would presume killed. What was there in the case to show how she came by her death was that a murder was not often committed in the presence of witnesses. The deceased was found under such circumstances as to leave reasonable doubt, but that she was murdered by some person, and, as the learned counsel for the prisoner had remarked, they ought to have the most conclusive testimony to satisfy them by whose hands that act was committed. They did not find any statement by the man to show that they even had a scuffle, or that he had handled the woman in self-defence; it simply showed that the cause of all his trouble was jealousy. If you are satisfied that he caused her death through jealousy alone, that is not sufficient to justify reducing their verdict below that of murder''.

The Jury then retired at quarter-past one. The prisoner was removed from the dock, a fresh jury was empanelled, and a case of larceny was proceeded with.

At a quarter to three, after an absence of an hour and a half, it was announced that the jury, in the case of White, had arrived at a verdict. The larceny case was adjourned, and his Lordship directed that the jury be brought in.

At this moment, everyone in the court was tense. The prisoner, White, was brought back to the dock. He clasped his hands and stood as he had throughout the day.

When the jury entered, they were placed on the Judge's left rather than in the usual box. The prisoner breathed heavily and seemed to be under great mental strain.

The Clerk of the Arraigns, having, in the usual form, asked the jury if they had agreed to their verdict, and having received an answer in the affirmative, called on them to deliver it.

The Foreman immediately pronounced the Verdict to be 'GUILTY OF MANSLAUGHTER'.

The prisoner looked greatly relieved when he heard the verdict. He raised his hands and bowed his head several times, as if giving thanks.

John White had been asked in the usual way if he had anything to state regarding the judgment, to which he made no reply.

Justice Wightman then passed sentence. Addressing the prisoner;

''The Jury, after a careful, and I'm sure, anxious consideration of the case, have acquitted you of the crime of wilful murder, and found you guilty of manslaughter. Whatever the circumstances were that induced them to come to such a conclusion, that was, to reduce the case to manslaughter, I am not aware ; but they had evidently been satisfied that you had no deliberate intention of taking away the life of your wife''.

The circumstances, added his lordship, under which the body had been found were very strong, but it was not for him to make any remark on the verdict. The prisoner had, from some motives, and as it would apparently seem, from motives of jealousy, deprived his wife of life and sent her unprepared before her Almighty judge.

''Whatever had been your feelings of affection towards the unfortunate woman and your children, you have deprived the latter of her protection. Had you thought of them, it might have prevented this most melancholy affair, but in this case, as in so many others, the innocent would thus have to suffer for the guilty.''

Through the decision of the jury, concluded his lordship, the extreme penalty of the law would not be passed upon him, but the interests of society required that the sentence should be such as would mark the gravity of such a crime. The sentence he should feel a duty to pass upon the prisoner would be penal servitude during THE TERM OF HIS NATURAL LIFE.

During the judge's remarks, the prisoner groaned and wept, with tears running down his cheeks. He was then taken from the dock.

Everyone in the court listened closely to the sentence, and the court remained orderly both during the sentencing and when the verdict was announced.

The entire case took six hours.

On 4 May 1859, John White was moved to Lewes Prison. On 14 May 1859, he was transferred to Pentonville Prison in Middlesex.

LIFE AFTER

After the trial, the children were split up. Some stayed with relatives, while others ended up in the workhouse or working as servants.

Once Louisa was separated from her younger siblings, she worked as a servant for William Fuller, a Cinque Port Pilot in Hougham, Kent.

On 12 May 1868, she married Robert Smith Austin, a master mariner from Dover. They had no children and lived at 25 Seven Star Street in Dover.

Robert died in a tragic accident in March 1879 when he was 41 years old.

When Robert died in March 1879, he was captain of the "Edinburgh," a 62-ton pilot cutter owned by Trinity House. The ship left Dover on 12 March 1879 with eight crew members and 12 pilots. After spending time between Sandgate and Folkestone, they anchored west of Dungeness Point on 14 March. That day, the "Edinburgh" collided with the Severn, an iron steamship from the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company. An inquiry found the Severn's crew was not at fault and did all they could to save lives. The boats were lowered quickly, but the "Edinburgh" sank so fast that only five of the twenty people on board survived: three crew members and two pilots. Robert, his first mate, ten pilots, and five crew members drowned.

Louisa worked as a tailoress in 1881 and was living as a boarder at the Railway Bell, 17 Beach Street, Dover. In August 1882, a fire damaged the Railway Bell.

By 1891, she was working as a housekeeper for a lady grocer in Rye. After that, there are no clear records of where she went or when she died.

Here’s what I found about the other children:

Phoebe was 12 when they lost their parents. She went into service and ended up in Essex. At 22, she married Robert Wyatt, a labourer from Great Saling, Essex, on 7 June 1868 at St Peter and St Paul, Bardfield, Saling. Their only child, George William, was born in October that year and baptised on 11 October at the same church. Phoebe died on 20 March 1874, aged 28, from chronic Phthisis Pulmonaris, and was buried on 27 March at the church. Robert remarried quickly, marrying Martha Hyde on 24 July 1874.

John was 10 when they lost their parents. He went to live with his eldest brother, George, who was married and still living in Dover. John later became a labourer. He married Sophie Crump from Pembroke, Wales, on 2 October 1870 at St. Mary-The-Virgin, Dover. Their first child, Annie Sophia Priscilla, was born in February 1871, followed by three more daughters and a son, John, in 1877. Sophie died on 19 September 1879 from peripheral Peritonitis at their home at 51 Oxenden Street, Dover, aged 31, with John present at her death.

On 27 October 1880, John remarried at the Dover registry, this time to Annie, Sophie's younger sister, who was then 27. Their daughter Rose May was born on 31 May 1881, indicating that Annie helped care for John's children after Sophie's death and grew close to him during that period. Over the following ten years, John and Annie expanded their family, having seven more children—one boy, and six girls.

By 1881, John was working as a paraffin oil merchant and stayed in that trade until he died in April 1918 at age 70.

In 1861, the youngest four children were found as paupers in the union house in Cookham, Maidenhead.

Susanna was 8 when they lost their parents. I haven’t found any clear record of her after 1861, but the Cookham record lists her birthplace as Reigate, Surrey, which also appears on Deborah’s record. This suggests they were transferred to the Reigate Union first, before being sent to Cookham to reunite with their brothers.

Charles was age 6 when they lost their parents. And, as with many orphans during the century, he eventually joined the Royal Navy on 1 Jan 1864 and was assigned to HMS Stromboli under the command of Commander Alexander Philips for service on the east coast of South America. After that, the trail goes cold, so it's unclear whether he survived the 10 years in the Navy or what he did afterwards.

Deborah was 4 when they lost their parents. In 1871, at age 18, she was working as a servant in Hillingdon, Middlesex. After that, there are no clear records of what happened to her.

Robert was just 1 when they lost their parents. He stayed at the Maidenhead Union workhouse the longest and later became a merchant sailor in London. He met Mary Ann Jane Darvill, née Taylor, from Bermondsey, who was a young widow with a son named Alfred. Her late husband had been a seal skinner and died at St Thomas Hospital on 28 March 1892, aged 24, after suffering from Phthisis for two months and empyema exhaustion.

I haven’t found a marriage record for Robert and Mary, but the records show that Mary and her son Alfred used the surname White. Robert and Mary had their first child, Mary Ann, in 1895, then James in 1898, and Robert in 1899. By 1921, when he was 64, Robert was working as a stoker at the Lazely & Co Pickle Factory on Crimscott Street, Bermondsey. He died at 48a Lower Road, Bermondsey, London, aged 73, on 21 March 1931 from diabetic gangrene.

As for Father John, there are no records of him after he entered Pentonville prison. He may have ended up in Portland Prison in Dorset, as many lifers did.

Thankfully, the children never ended up in the criminal system, which sometimes happens when families are separated, especially those who end up in the union system.

SOURCES

⦁ John (2013, February 6). Pilot Cutter 'Edinburgh' tragedy, Dungeness, 1879. Sussex History Forum. https://sussexhistoryforum.co.uk/index.php?topic=4297.0

⦁ Bring your backstory to life Ancestry® | Genealogy, Family Trees & Family History Records. Available at: http://www.ancestry.co.uk/

⦁ General Register Office (no date) General Register Office - Online Ordering Service - Login. Available at: https://www.gro.gov.uk/gro/content/certificates/

⦁ Archive, History’s colourful stories in black and white, Home | British Newspaper Archive. Available at: https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/

⦁ (1827, July 28). Summer Assizes. Berkshire Chronicle, pg3.

⦁ (1827, September 12). Bottom Column 4. London Evening Standard, pg4.

⦁ (1858, July 31). Murder at Rye. Hull Daily News, pg4.

⦁ (1858, August 5). Brutal wife murder at Rye. West Sussex Gazette, pg2.

⦁ (1879, March 15). Fatal collision in the channel. Portsmouth Evening News, pg2.

⦁ (1859, March 29). The Ickleham Murder. Sussex Advertiser, pg7.

⦁ (1882, August 4). Destructive fire at the pier. Dover Express, pg5.