Betsey King: The Story of the Early Life of Kate Stoddard, Murderess, Descendant of the Pilgrims

It was not until to-day that the citizens of this ancient and historical town were startled to learn that the murderess of Mr. Goodrich, in Brooklyn, was a native, and during her early life a resident of this place. Although the details of the terrible tragedy had been read and commented upon here, no one could connect the name of Kate Stoddard with the youthful and industrious Betsey King, who, until a few years since, was not only the belle, but a model of propriety, in the whole village. Last night the evening papers received on the late train furnished the first rumors that Kate Stoddard and Betsey King were one and the same person, and this morning the story was confirmed. As may be expected, public excitement and village gossip run high, and it has increased rather than abated ever since. "Who would have thought that she would have committed murder!" and "I cannot believe it!" are samples of the expressions of astonishment and doubt heard in all quarters. It is true that she had not been in Plymouth much during the last two or three years, but still she was remembered as an innocent, harmless and quaint little girl, and the very last one who would have committed such a terrible crime as the one she has so recently and fully confessed.

Her parents are still living, and are among the most respectable and honored citizens of the town, and, as may be expected, this terrible affliction has almost driven them to distraction. The mother was not aware of the terrible tragedy in which her daughter has acted so prominent a part until about the moment she was visited by a Herald reporter this afternoon, and the father, who was absent from the town during the day, did not learn of the terrible situation until this evening. Last night, when the news was first received, two or three of the neighbors called upon the family, but they were so happy and cheerful that none had the heart to break it to them — that their daughter Betsey had committed the highest crime known to the laws, one which may send her to a felon's cell for life, or cause her to expose it upon the scaffold.

"I can't tell her the awful news; if I do, I can never forgive myself," said an elderly lady to your reporter, with tears in her eyes. But, she added, "the poor woman ought to know." This lady, an old friend of the family, at length volunteered to perform the disagreeable service, and a few moments after the sad news had been broken our correspondent called upon Mrs. King at her neat and tidy residence in a little court off Summer street.

The poor woman, who had been before suffering the tortures of neuralgia in the head, was now nearly crazed. Her grief was not of the spasmodic kind, but of a description that told that her heart was nearly broken, that her cup of sorrow was full. She was reclining upon a sofa, and her countenance and every appearance denoted death rather than life. She was reluctant to converse with any one, and even the mingled grief and sympathy of a couple of her sisters and other old neighbors failed to afford her any comfort. "Oh, my poor Betsey! my poor Betsey!" was all that she would say, and then she would give way to her feelings, not in sobs and tears, but in agonizing groans of the most harrowing and painful nature. Mr. King, as before stated, was at this time absent and ignorant of the terrible event which has destroyed the peace and happiness of his remaining life.

"There appears to be a great deal of sympathy for your daughter in New York," I remarked, "and there is a very general impression that she committed the act while in a fit of temporary insanity." "Oh, I know she must have been crazy. I would rather have heard of her death than to know that she would do anything wrong if she knew it. I can't talk about it now, but you may tell me all about her. My eyes and my head pain me so I can't read hardly a word."

In compliance with the poor woman's request, I proceeded to tell her in detail the incidents of the tragedy, to all of which she listened with an interest that was really painful to witness. Once in a while she would interrupt with an inquiry, most very particular to know if it was possible that her unfortunate girl was in her right mind when she committed the bloody deed. The assurance that the public generally regarded her as insane seemed to afford the heart-broken mother great satisfaction. In response to an inquiry concerning the story of Betsey having formerly been in an insane asylum, Mrs. King said that she was once in the Taunton institution five or six months, but she could not tell me the particulars, but referred me to one of her neighbors, who was familiar with the circumstances. The heart-broken woman seemed to desire solitude in her great affliction, and all her sympathizing friends withdrew except her two sisters, who remained until late in the afternoon.

Mr. King, when he arrived home this evening, learned for the first time the terrible news of his daughter's crime, which had been the uppermost topic in the public mind for nearly a week. He was reluctant to believe it at first, but when he finally realized the terrible facts he gave way entirely, and all efforts to administer comfort were in vain. It is probable that he will visit his daughter in the course of [...]

The fact of her nativity here, the respectability of her parents, and her liberal education, have all been alluded to in the Herald, but your correspondent, in mingling with her friends and schoolmates, has been able to gather many additional facts concerning the early life and career of this most remarkable criminal. She was born here in Plymouth, and so was her father and mother before her, and she may, therefore, be considered as a pretty direct descendant of the little band who came over on the Mayflower two or three centuries ago. She is the youngest of a family of two daughters, her elder sister being now Mrs. — of Hyde Park, Mass. It was her sister and not Betsey who taught school here in Plymouth county, although Betsey is said to possess a far superior education; she is a graduate of the high school, and during her tuition she was particularly celebrated as a writer; some of her compositions are said to have had a touch and elegance, and shown a degree of thought and study, which attracted universal attention. In every branch of study she was remarkably apt, and her proficiency often excited the envy and jealousy of her schoolmates. While her father and mother are firm and enthusiastic followers of the Second Advent, the two daughters were always devoted Baptists, and Betsey was particularly regular and earnest in her Sabbath school attendance. In personal appearance she was always very attractive, nature supplying her forms and features which the most accomplished milliner and dressmaker could not embellish. One of her old schoolmates described her to your reporter as having 'a sweet, full, round face, red cheeks, ruddy lips, clear skin, graceful form, auburn hair,' and alleged her 'the best looking body in the family.' There was always something about her that was different from other girls, and her associates, knowing her little whims, used