In the autumn of
1854,
his immediate wants were relieved by the thirteen-thousand-pound cheque which The Prince of Wales Insurance Company paid him for the loss of his wife; but he soon came knocking at the moneylenders' doors again. One of these was a London solicitor named Pratt, a tall, stout man, rather fashionable in his style of dress, with an enormous pair of brown whiskers, the eyes of a London street-boy, and the low voice of a retiring spinster. He practises in Queen Street, Mayfair, being, I understand, a good family man with three young children and a prominent supporter of the Church Missionary Society; yet never hesitated to charge Dr Palmer sixty per cent for his accommodation, despite the Biblical injunction against usury. He must have been well aware that the acceptances were forged, since the death of his wife had reduced Dr Palmer to copying the old lady's signature himself.
It was this same Pratt whom Dr Palmer used as his agent when insuring Walter Palmer's life. From what Inspector Field and I learned subsequently, the Doctor's approach to Walter was something of this nature: 'How about selling your life, Watty? You know it can't be a long one, not above ten years at the rate you're
going; but you can at least make it a little merrier. I'll tell you what: I'm ready to insure it for a thousand pounds, paying the Office their five per cent rate every year, and of that thousand pounds I'll advance you four hundred at once, free and for nothing, to spend as you please. If you last beyond eight years, I'll be the loser, yet I don't mind taking the risk, if you promise to play fair. What say you, Watty, old chum? It's easy money, like pledging your skeleton to a hospital: as paupers do for a tobacco allowance.'
Walter eagerly agreed, because these four hundred pounds extra drinking money seemed manna from Heaven; whereupon Dr Palmer warned him that, to secure the usual five per cent rate, a couple of examining doctors must first pass him as a sound investment. For a month, at least, he would have to forswear hard liquor and pack good food into his belly. Walter protested that such self-denial would exceed his moral strength; but Dr Palmer undertook to keep him sober during that period. 'I'll engage Tom
Walkenden as your trainer,' he said. 'Afterwards, if you please, you may drink again.'
Pro
posals were now made by Pratt, Dr Palmer's name not appearing in the application, to no less than four Offices—The Prince of Wales, The Solicitors' and General, The Universal, and The Indisputable—for about thirteen thousand pounds apiece. Other agents of Dr Palmer's sounded two other Offices—The Athenaeum and The Gresham—suggesting policies of fourteen thousand and fifteen thousand pounds respectively. The total sum sought was eighty-two thousand pounds, which called for initial premiums in the amount of some four thousand five hundred pounds.
On January
3
1
st, The Prince of Wales, unaware that Walter was related to Annie Palmer, by whose insurance they had gone down so heavily, issued a policy of fourteen thousand pounds on the recommendation of Drs Hughes and Harland, both of Stafford. Dr Harland, an elderly physician newly arrived in the town, had passed Walter as a good life without making any close inquiries into his medical history. Dr Hughes also passed him, but added the following qualification: 'The applicant is now temperate and healthy; previous habits, however, reduce his chance of longevity to less than the average. He owns to an attack of
delirium tremens
five years ago.'
One of the medical men consulted by The Universal was Dr Monckton of Rugeley. After first passing Walter, he soon changed his opinion as the result of a talk
with
Dr Campbell of Stoke
-on-Trent, Walter's former physician. He appended to his report:
most confidential!
Walter Palmer's life has been rejected by two Assurance Offices. He drinks hard and has had
delirium tremens.
His brother, Dr William Palmer, insured his own wife not long ago for
^13,000.
She died after a single premium had been paid.
Beneath this postscript Dr Monckton wrote in capital letters: BE CAUTIOUS!
Dr Waddell of Stafford, now Walter's private physician, was also consulted by The Universal, and likewise refused to recommend him. He countersigned Dr Monckton's confidential report with: 'I believe that the above facts are true.'
Though not shown this paper, Walter knew at least that he had been turned down as a 'bad risk', and me
eting Dr Waddell one day on Castl
e Knoll, reproached him with a lack of consideration. 'My habits are entirely altered, Doctor,' Walter said. 'I drink no more than three glasses of bitter beer in a day, and eat like a thresher. Why didn't you pass me?'
Dr Waddell answered drily: 'Continue so for six months, and I'll begin to believe in your reform; continue for five years, and I'll do so with a good heart. But your last attack of
delirium tremens
caused me great trouble and anxiety, and I can't guarantee that there won't be others—not without stronger evidence than your own hopes of a cure.'
The Gresham, which appointed Drs Harland and Waddell to examine Walter, accepted the policy, while making it a condition that 'no insurance will be paid if this person dies before five years have elapsed'. On receipt of this reply, I am informed, Dr Palmer wrote to his agent, a Mr Webb: 'That would not suit my book at all. We had better drop the matter.'
In order to pay The Prince of Wales their initial premium of seven hundred pounds odd, Dr Palmer borrowed one thousand five hundred pounds from Pratt, at the usual sixty per cent rate, against one more forged acceptance from his mother; and, having done so, set about restoring Walter's former intemperance, and even enhancing it. He hired the same Tom Walkenden, who had hitherto prevented him fro
m drinking, to be Walter's 'bottl
e holder'. Walkenden is a powerful man, with a broad, flat face and coarse features; he has been a potman, and once served a prison sentence in London for larceny. The assignment of the insurance policy to Dr Palmer was then duly drawn out, and witnessed by Jeremiah Smith, who took five guineas as his fee. Yet Walter did not get the promised four hundred pounds, but only sixty in cash, and unlimited credit with Mr John Burgess, the innkeeper and spirit merchant of Dudley Port.
Walter kept a cask of gin in the house and never drank less
than a quart a day, besides the
three-pint bottle which Walkenden placed every night at his bedside, and which he had always emptied by the early morning. He would toss off half a tumbler
at
a
gulp.
In
the
early
morning,
Walkenden
had
orders
to
bring him
a
cup
of
hot
coffee
and
some
buttered
toast.
This
he
would swallow
but
throw
up
again;
afterwards
he
steadied
himself
with three
or
four
glasses
of
gin
and
water,
before
starting
the
day's serious
drinking.
He
constantly
complained
of
pains
all
over
his body,
particularly
below
one
shoulder-blade.
He
also
coughed
and spat
a
great
deal.
Dr
Waddell,
meeting
him
one
day
at
the
bowling
green,
asked: 'Well,
Walter,
and
how
do
you
do?'
'Why,
lad,
I'm
very
bad
indeed,'
Walter
replied.
'I
fear
I
shall never
recover.
Pity
me
for
a
most
wretched
man.'
'Nonsense,
nonsense!'
cried
Dr
Waddell.
'I'll
guarantee
your cure,
if
you'll
only
obey
my
instructions.'
'Well,
I
th
ink
not,'
said
Walter,
'but
my
brother
William
is bringing
me
some
pills
tomorrow.'
'If
you
won't
come
back
to
me—if
you
put
yourself
under anyone
else,
even
your
own
brother—I
give
you
up!'
Dr
Waddell declared.
'But
tell
me,
why
have
you
relapsed,
Walter,
after
being so
much
improved
not
many
weeks
ago?'
Walter
replied
simply:
'The
fact
is,
lad,
that
I
owe
my
brother William
four
hundred
pounds,
and
it
weighs
on
my
conscience; he's
pretty
short
of
money
these
days.
I
feel
like
a
pauper
defrauding
the
hospital
of
its
skeleton.'
Dr
Waddell's
being
a
near
neighbour
of
Walter's
may
have been
the
reason
why
William
Palmer
now
removed
the
latter
to Castle
Terrace,
beyond
the
railway
station.
To
make
everything look
above
board,
he
had
invited
Dr
Wadde
ll
and
Dr
Day,
The Prince
of
Wales's
regular
insurance
doctor,
who
also
lived
in
Earl Street,
to
keep
an
eye
on
hi
s
brother;
but
encouraged
neither
of them
to
see
too
much
of
him.
In
the
middle
of
July
he
visited Walter,
and
pretended
to
be
greatly
distressed
by
his
drinking. 'You
must
make
an
endeavour,
Watty,'
he
said,
'to
sober
up. Come,
what
do
you
say
to
visiting
Agnes
for
a
week
and
showing yourself
in
your
true
colours
?
Tom
Walkenden,
here,
will
help you
to
train
for
the
meeting,
and
I'll
have
a
word
with
Dr Waddell
first.'