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Four years later, on April 25, 1865, Constance Kent surrendered herself at Bow Street Police Court and confessed to the murder of Francis Saville Kent.
Constance Kent was the ninth child of Samuel Saville Kent’s first marriage. In 1829 Mr. Kent had married Mary Ann Winder, and by her had ten children, five of whom died shortly after birth. At the date of the crime four of these children were still living, Mary Ann, Elizabeth, Constance, and William. Constance had been born at Sidmouth in February 1844. It is alleged2 by Dr Stapleton, who subsequently became a friend of the family, that her mother had exhibited symptoms of insanity as early as 1836. According to his account, these symptoms were not very serious. He says, however, that “the early treatment of Mrs. Kent appears to have been most lamentably deficient and abortive.”
Six years later, however, Mr. Kent decided to employ a capable woman to superintend the children and the household. But the fact of Mrs. Kent’s insanity has been questioned. A single quotation3 will suffice to exemplify the doubt which has been thrown upon the matter.
Was Mrs. Kent insane? Her two eldest daughters always vehemently denied it. No act has ever been mentioned to prove it. The second governess, who was employed for the education of the two eldest daughters, arrived about the time of John’s birth in 1842. She was a pretty, very capable woman. Considering Mrs. Kent’s frequent confinements, also several miscarriages, and that servants took advantage of the circumstances, was it anything out of the way that Mr. Kent was only too glad to find someone willing and able to superintend the menage? Many wives are incompetent or unwilling as housekeepers, but they are not therefore deemed insane. As Mr. Kent only ceased to live with her about two years later, did he then consider her so?
When Constance was four years old the family moved to Walton, between Clevedon and Portishead in Somersetshire. They remained here four years, and in March 1852 moved once more, this time to Baynton House, near Corsham in Wiltshire. A few weeks after this move Mrs. Kent died. In August 1853 Mr. Kent took as his second wife the governess-housekeeper, Miss Pratt. In 1855 the family moved to Road Hill House, where the four children of the second marriage were born. The second of these was Francis Saville, who was born in August 1856.
At the time of Francis’ birth, Constance was twelve, and from various sources something may be gathered of her childhood. Mr. Stapleton says1:
For many months after her birth great apprehensions were entertained that Constance would share the fate of the four previous children of Mrs. Kent. That she struggled through the feebleness of her early infancy is chiefly due to the devotion and personal attention of Miss Pratt, by whom she was fed, nursed and waited upon for months. By degrees her bodily constitution assumed that healthy development and growth which has bestowed on her the contour and command of a powerful physique. As she grew up Constance manifested a strong, obstinate and determined will, and her conduct even as a little child gave evidence of an irritable and impassioned nature.
1 Op. cit.
The document already quoted1 draws a vivid picture of the relations between Constance and Miss Pratt.
The governess had made a great pet of Constance and was very fond of her, but soon trouble began. The governess had a theory that once a child said a letter or spelt a word right it could not forget it, and she conscientiously believed that it was her duty to treat any lapse as obstinacy. The letter H gave Constance many hours of confinement in a room where she listened longingly to the music and the sights on the lawn outside. When words were to be mastered punishments became more severe. Days were spent shut up in a room with dry bread and milk and water for tea. At other times she would be stood up in a corner of the hall sobbing, “I want to be good, I do, I do,” till she came to the conclusion that goodness was impossible for a child and that she could only hope to grow up quickly as grown-ups were never naughty. At times she gave way to furious fits of temper and was locked away in a distant room and sometimes in a cellar that her noise might not annoy people.
Constance did not take her punishments very seriously, but generally managed to get some amusement out of them. Once after being particularly provocative and passionate, the governess put her down in a dark wine cellar. She fell on a heap of straw and fancied herself in the dungeon of a great castle, a prisoner taken in a battle fighting for Bonnie Prince Charlie and to be taken to the block next morning. When the governess unlocked the door and told her to come up she was looking rather pleased over her fancies. The governess asked her what she was smiling about: “Oh,” she said, “only the funny rats.”
“What rats? “said the governess, who did not know there were any there.
“They do not hurt me. Only dance and play about.”
After that, to her disappointment she was shut in the beer cellar, a light room but with a window too high to look out of. She managed to pull the spigot out of a cask of beer. After that, she was locked up in one of two spare rooms at the end of the vestibule, shut off by double doors. She liked the big room, for it had a large four-poster bed she could climb about, but the little room was dreary. The rooms had a legend attached to them and were said to be haunted on a certain date when a blue fire burned in the fireplace.
At one time at Baynton House Constance’s place of punishment was in one of the empty garrets. The house was built in the shape of an E, and there was a parapet round the best part of the house. She used to climb out of the window and up the bend to the top of the roof and slide down the other side. She tied an old fur across her chest to act the monkey and call it playing Cromwell. To return she got through the window of another garret. The governess was puzzled at always finding the door unlocked with the key left in. The servants were questioned, but of course knew nothing. One day she found Constance and her brother out on the ledge, and told them not to do it as it was dangerous. Next time when she did climb out she found the window fastened. She could not climb back the way she came, but just where the parapet ended was the window of a room where the groom slept. She reached across and climbed through, and though she upset and broke a jug on the washstand, the cat got the credit for this. Afterwards, she heard that her father did not approve of the window being fastened to trap her, and said that when unruly she could be shut in the study, the room where her father wrote and kept his papers. Being on the ground floor she easily got out of the window and passed her time climbing the trees in the shrubbery, also displaying a very cruel disposition by impaling slugs and snails on sticks in trees, calling these crucifixions. The affection between Constance and the governess no longer existed.
Meanwhile, Miss Pratt’s position in the household had become the subject of unfavourable comment. Mr. Kent’s eldest surviving son, Edward, nine years older than Constance, seems to have been the first to express disapproval. It is reported that one morning when he was at home at Sidmouth on his holidays, he met his father coming out of the governess’s room which happened to be next to his. A scene took place between father and son, as a result of which the latter was promptly sent back to school. After this Edward was very rarely at home. He took to the sea as a profession, and died at Havana of yellow fever in 1858.
At this time Constance was too young to notice anything of this. But as she grew up her childish recollections began to assume significance. She realized that there had been something mysterious about the treatment of her mother.
Why did her mother, when speaking to her, often call herself, your poor mamma, which the governess said was silly? Why was the governess taken out for drives and her mother never? Why was her father in the library with the governess while the rest of the family was with her mother? She remembered many little incidents which seemed strange. One was during a thunderstorm, when the governess acted as though she were frightened and
