Samuel Mortlake went on to make a full statement to the police. In that statement he explained that on 11 January, twenty-two-year-old Mary Newell had been admitted to his workhouse. At the time, she was pregnant but refused to give any details as to who the father might be.

On 7 May, Mary gave birth to a healthy baby boy, who she named Richard. She then remained in the workhouse until 9 August, when she announced that she was leaving, to go to a friend’s house. Mary was interviewed by Mr Mortlake before she left and said she had received a letter from a cousin, a Mrs Bakehouse, who had offered her a place for herself and the child. Mr Mortlake tried, once again, to discover something about the child’s father, but Mary would give nothing away, apart from the fact that he lived in Reading. She had then left the workhouse, at some time between 1.00pm and 2.00pm.

Something of Mary’s history was, of course, known to the workhouse authorities and they were able to give the police details of her family. It was this, which led Constable David Pitts to Mary’s mother’s house, at Ipsden. Mary was at the house and when Constable Pitts asked her where her child was, Mary replied that she had left it with a nurse, but was either unable, or unwilling, to say precisely where. Not satisfied with this answer, Pitts said that he would have to take Mary into custody whereupon she broke down and cried: ‘I was forced to do it.’

Taken to Oxford police station, Mary Newell made a full written statement, admitting that she was responsible for her son’s death. She explained that she had been in service at Wallingford since 1853 and had become rather friendly with a gentleman named Robert Francis, whom she had known for some six years in all. The relationship developed and, in due course, Mary found herself pregnant. By now it was close to Christmas and, naturally growing concerned as to what might happen to her, Mary had gone to Robert and explained her predicament. To her surprise, Robert had shown little interest in her welfare and had simply announced that he was unable to help her, as he was now keeping company with another woman. At her wit’s end, Mary had left her job and gone to stay at the workhouse in Henley, some seven miles away. There she had given birth to Richard and, after a time, had decided to go back to Robert and again ask him for help.

Robert ran a shop in Friar Street, Reading and on 9 August, after she had left the workhouse, Mary had confronted him there. Far from showing the slightest interest in her or the child, Robert had, rather unkindly, simply walked out of the shop leaving Mary with his sister. Mary waited for him to return, but in due course, the sister said she had to put the shutters up for the night. Mary stood outside and then walked up and down Friar Street for some time. When it was clear that Robert was not going to return, she walked on and found herself at King’s Meadow, near the river.

Unsure even what she was doing, Mary stripped her son down to his nappy, tied a small bag she carried around his waist, and weighted it with stones. She then watched as her son lay on his back on the riverbank, kicking his feet. Then, suddenly, he kicked once again and rolled over, into the river. She then walked to her mother’s house where she stayed until her arrest.

Charged with murder, Mary Newell appeared before Mr Justice Erle on 20 December 1858. Mr Griffiths detailed the case for the prosecution whilst Mary was defended by Mr Cripps. Throughout the trial, Mary was constantly in an almost fainting condition and often had to be assisted by the officials set to guard her.

Charles Duffield explained to the court that on Tuesday 10 August, he had been cray-fishing in the King’s Meadow, close to the mill, with a friend of his, Francis Shepherd. At the time, Duffield was standing on the riverbank whilst Shepherd was standing in the river, some two or three feet from the bank.

At one stage, Duffield saw a flash of something pale in the weeds close by. Thinking at first that it might be a fish, he glanced over and, as he gazed, the flash came again. To his horror he saw that it wasn’t a fish, but appeared to be a small, human hand. He shouted across to Shepherd who waded over to where Duffield indicated and grabbed the hand. Shepherd then pulled the body towards the bank where Duffield pulled it out to reveal that it was the body of a male infant, naked except for a nappy but with a bag tied around its waist. Francis Shepherd confirmed this testimony and stated that whilst his friend stayed with the child, he had then run off to find a policeman.

Inspector William Moses told the court that he had charge of this case. The body of the child had been brought to him at the police station and he had noted that the bag was tied around the child’s waist by means of two pieces of string.

Doctor Timothy Lorkin Walford testified that the last witness, Inspector Moses, had brought the child’s body to him and he had therefore performed a post-mortem later that same day. There were no external marks of violence on the child which measured twenty-four inches in length and weighed fifteen pounds. The boy had been well nourished and looked after in life and there were no signs of decomposition. The child’s tongue protruded slightly from between his lips but he had not been strangled or asphyxiated. The condition of the lungs showed that the boy had been placed into the water whilst still alive and the cause of death was drowning.

After Samuel Mortlake, the master of the workhouse, had given his testimony, other witnesses from that same establishment were called to confirm his identification of Richard Newell.

Mary Jones was an inmate of the workhouse and had been there since April. She knew Mary Newell very well and had often helped her to nurse her child, after he was born. Besides identifying Richard’s body, Mary was also able to say that the bag found around his waist had been made by Mary Newell some two or three weeks before she had left on 9 August.

Harriett Gale was a nurse at the workhouse and had attended Mary Newell during her confinement. She was also able to make a positive identification of the body.

The time came for the child’s father to tell his story. Robert William Francis said that he was a poulterer, running his business from a shop in Friar Street. He had first come to know Mary when she was in service and, when she told him she was pregnant, he told her that he was seeing someone else, was about to get engaged and would not help Mary in taking care of the child.

That was the last he saw of her until some time between 7.00pm and 8.00pm on Monday 9 August, when she came into his shop asking him for money. He told her that he had none, and then left the shop. He had not seen her again until now, in court.

After Constable Pitts had given his testimony, the jury retired to consider their verdict. After an absence of only twenty minutes, they returned to say that they had found Mary guilty of murder but wished to add a strong recommendation to mercy. As she received the statutory sentence of death, Mary almost fainted and had to be supported.

In the event, the recommendation of the jury did move the authorities and the death sentence was commuted. Mary was then sent to Reading prison to serve out her sentence. Unfortunately, the birth of her child, the unfeeling attitude of the father, the crime she had committed and the ordeal of arrest, trial and the subsequent death sentence had affected Mary’s already fragile mind and she was judged to be insane.

On 4 February 1859, she was transferred to Millbank prison and then, almost immediately, sent to the Fisherton Lunatic Asylum where she remained until December, 1864. By then, she was judged to have recovered somewhat and, on 1 December, was sent back to Millbank. By now she was being considered for eventual release and so, on 1 March 1865, she was transferred to Parkhurst prison for assessment. On 3 July 1866, she was transferred to Brixton where she stayed for two more years, finally being released on 30 November 1868, after serving just over ten years in various institutions. She was now thirty-two years old.