Problems arose when Essex, having been abroad, returned, forcing Frances to forego any further clandestine meetings with Rochester. Determined to rid herself of her boring husband, she contacted a doctor’s widow, Anne Turner, reputedly a witch and, rumoured by some, to be the keeper of a bagnio, a brothel. Anne introduced her to a Dr Simon Forman who, at a price, sold her a potion designed to render her husband impotent, and another to enhance the passions of Rochester, should it be needed! By now King James had become aware of the intrigue, but as it didn’t conflict with his relationship with Rochester, he wasn’t concerned – indeed, on the contrary, he promoted Rochester to the posts of Lord High Treasurer of Scotland, Knight of the Garter and First Secretary of State. Furthermore, to keep his favourite happy, he agreed that Frances’ marriage to Essex should be annulled and that she should marry Rochester.
So everyone was happy, except Essex and Overbury. Essex was soon to become single again, against his will, but he didn’t matter; however, Overbury realised that he would be written out of the frame; Rochester, on having the manipulative and unscrupulous Frances at his side, would have no further need of his services and so would no longer continue to subsidise Overbury’s expensive way of life. Desperately Overbury warned his friend that the woman would only spell trouble if he married her; he made disparaging remarks, even calling her a whore, a fatal step, for Rochester told his mistress. Livid that anyone should dare to refer to her in such scurrilous terms, and determined to remove Overbury permanently from her future husband’s orbit, she swore vengeance. Together, she and Rochester manoeuvred Overbury into incurring the disfavour of the King, with the result that she consequently had Overbury exactly where she wanted him – in the Bloody Tower, within the Tower of London!
Frances then employed a Dr James Franklin, an expert in such toxic substances as rose algar, cantharides, lapis constitis and, naturally, arsenic, together with such specialities as ‘great spiders’, which had to be crushed first, of course, and diamonds, similarly treated. Such was Frances’ influence that she had the Lieutenant of the Tower replaced by another knight, Sir Gervase Elwys, over whom she had complete control, and he in turn employed reputed sorcerer Richard Weston, who served up some of Frances’ own tasty dishes to the prisoner Overbury, tarts so potent that once, when Weston lifted the pastry lid from one of them, he nearly had the tip of his finger burned off, and it was not the heat of the contents that was to blame! Demanding speedy results, Frances proceeded to reinforce her kitchen staff by recruiting Anne Turner again. Anne also contributed to the Overbury diet sheet, preparing such delicious repasts as roast partridge seasoned with cantharides instead of pepper, and sugared delicacies containing arsenic and sublimate of mercury.
The months went by and somehow, despite exuding appalling rashes of suppurating boils and abscesses all over his body, Overbury stubbornly refused to die. Eventually Frances lost her patience with him, and on 14 September 1613, she engaged a French physician, Dr De Lobell, to supply some sublimate of mercury, and this was injected directly into Overbury’s bowels by a chemist’s assistant. Obligingly, Overbury died in agony at 6 a.m. the next morning, his demise being accelerated, reportedly, by Weston, who smothered him at the last minute. And lest anyone in authority should see the hideous eruptions that covered the corpse’s skin, it was wrapped in a sheet and, uncoffined, buried immediately and without ceremony in the Royal Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula within the Tower of London.
Then it was time for all to rejoice. Within days the marriage of Frances and Essex was annulled and she married Rochester; with magnificent effrontery she was married ‘in her hair’, the symbol of a virgin bride (probably wearing her hair loose). To celebrate the occasion James promoted Rochester even further up the social ladder by creating him Earl of Somerset, which naturally delighted Frances, as Countess of Somerset.
But then the hammer blow fell. The insignificant apprentice, wielder of the deadly syringe, had been removed from the scene to maintain secrecy, and sent to live in Holland. Unfortunately for all concerned he contracted a fatal illness, and on his deathbed, desirous of cleansing his conscience, he confessed absolutely everything. For the Somersets, Richard Weston and Anne Turner, the game was up. Weston also talked, spilling chapter and verse, but it availed him naught, for on 23 October 1615 he was hanged at Tyburn. Sir Gervase Elwys met the same death on Tower Hill, though was allowed the favour of having his servant pull on his legs in order to expedite his strangulation, and Dr James Franklin met his death at St Thomas’ Waterings.
For some unaccountable reason, perhaps because the king feared what might be disclosed by his favourite in any final speech delivered on the scaffold, Robert and Frances, Earl and Countess of Somerset, escaped execution, James graciously commuting their sentence to one of being imprisoned in the Tower. There they were incarcerated in the very room in the Bloody Tower in which their victim had lived – and died. On being led there, Frances shrieked in terror, convinced that she would be haunted by Overbury’s ghost, and eventually the couple were moved elsewhere, to die ignored and forgotten.
And Anne Turner? On 9 November 1615 she was taken to Tyburn, the cynosure of thousands of eyes as, pale and dishevelled, she stood trembling on the drop while Hangman Derrick executed the sentence of the court by opening the trapdoors on which she stood.
Imitation might well be the sincerest form of flattery, but not when the hangman is deliberately wearing something similar! As described above, Anne Turner was hanged on 9 November 1615, a later historian reporting that ‘Mistress Turner, the first inventress of yellow starch, was executed wearing a gown with Frills and a Cobweb Lawn Ruff of that colour at Tyburn, and with her death I believe that yellow starch, which so much disfigured our Nation and rendered them so ridiculous and fantastic, will receive its Funeral.’ The hangman added a touch of colour to his usual funereal garb by also wearing yellow cuffs; whether in sympathy with his victim or to mock her, is not known. Suffice it to say that the fashionable ladies of the day wasted no time in reverting to the whiter brand.
V
Voglin, Apollonia (Germany)
The Carolina Criminal Code of the Emperor Charles V decreed that a woman guilty of infanticide was to be buried alive or impaled, and the penalty of death by drowning was to be inflicted ‘only where water for that purpose was conveniently at hand’. Unfortunately for Apollonia, some was at hand, so they drowned her.
While working on a farm, she gave birth to an infant and, having no one to turn to or to help her, she killed it. For that she was sentenced to death, and on 6 March 1578 she was taken to where a wooden stage had been built protruding over the river. Standing at its end, she was placed in a large sack, the top of which was then securely tied. Almost immediately she was pushed into the water and held below the surface by the Löwe, the assistant executioner, wielding a long pole until the bubbles ceased to rise.
Such executions were far from efficient; it was reported that on one occasion ‘the poor wretch managed to free herself from the sack, but was not reprieved, though her death struggles lasted almost a full hour’.
Executioner Franz Schmidt, in charge of such proceedings, was a rarity in his trade. Educated and, to a certain extent, possessing a flair for scientific subjects, the latter talent even resulted in him dissecting some of his victims. Never one to inflict unnecessary suffering, it was mainly due to his efforts that, in 1580, the authorities finally agreed that instead of drowning women guilty of infanticide, he could behead them with the sword, although it was pointed out to him that such a method might easily damage his professional reputation ‘since those females, through timidity, might fall to the ground and thus hinder the executioner, who might then be obliged to finish them off as they lay prone on the earth.’ There were no reports of that happening, and so renowned was his prowess with the sword that such women died almost instantly, their heads then being nailed above the gallows.
We might not know who ‘Juanita’ was or even her second name; what is kno
wn is that in 1851 she killed a would-be burglar in self-defence and was unjustly sentenced to death for murder. There being no gallows available, she was taken to a bridge outside town, a rope was thrown over a crossbeam and the noose positioned around her neck. But before the delegated executioner could push her off, she exclaimed, ‘Adios, señores!’ and with a smile threw herself into the gorge below.
W
Warriston, Lady Jean (Scotland)
This is a story of two Scottish maidens: one, the instigator of the crime; the other, the justice-dealing device. Jean Warriston, wife of the Laird of Warriston, lived in a grand manor house situated a mile outside Edinburgh. A young woman – she was only 20 – she was renowned for her beauty. Whether that was a factor in the crime she committed, whether her affections lay in another direction, or whether she found the relationship with her husband totally unsustainable, is not known; what is known is that she induced some members of her staff to assist her in murdering him.
On the evening of 1 July 1600, her plan was put into operation. Robert Weir, one of the estate’s grooms, came to the house and hid himself in the cellar, and later that night Lady Warriston joined him. Together they went upstairs to where the Laird lay asleep. Once in the room, Weir attacked his master, first stunning him with his fists, then dragging him out of bed, where he proceeded to strangle him. And all this time Jean Warriston stood and watched.
Notified, probably by neighbours, the police arrived on the following morning. Jean, together with others who had plotted the murder, namely her nurse Janet Murdo and two maidservants, were arrested – but not Robert Weir who, wisely, had taken to his heels after his dire deed. Within days the suspects appeared before the Edinburgh magistrates; Jean, the nurse, and one of the servants being found guilty. All were sentenced to be tied to the stake, strangled, then burned to ashes.
In the condemned cell in the Tollbooth, the city gaol, Jean refused to accept her fate. Indeed, the minister who was attempting to give her spiritual solace later complained that:
I found her raging in an insensate fury, disdainfully taunting every word of grace that was uttered to her, impatiently tearing her hair out, sometimes running up and down like one possessed, throwing herself on the bed and refusing all the comfort of my words, and when the Bible was brought to her, she flung it against the walls twice or thrice most irreverently. And having been brought something to drink, she supped, then threw the cup on the floor and turned her back to me!
The minister, however, was determined to save, or at least prepare, her soul during the few hours that were left to her, and kept up a constant barrage of prayers and pronouncements, not even allowing her to sleep, until she eventually showed some signs of penitence.
It was about then that some good news, if it can be thus described, was brought to her. Instead of being strangled and burned, she was to be decapitated by the guillotine-like Scottish maiden. And at 4 a.m. on the morning of 5 July 1600, Lady Jean Warriston was taken by tumbril to the Girth Cross at the end of Canongate, where the fearsome machine stood. There, after prayers had been said, she knelt; a brief moment passed, and then the executioner released the heavily weighted blade – and as the sound of the impact reverberated around the walls of the ancient buildings surrounding the Cross, her head rolled on to the sawdust-strewn boards.
Her accomplices fared much worse. Janet Murdo, her nurse, together with the maidservant, were taken to Castle Hill where they were strangled and then burned. The actual murderer, Robert Weir, escaped justice for four years, but when finally captured he was broken on the wheel; spread-eagled on it, his limbs were methodically shattered by the executioner’s iron bar, the last blow being aimed at his heart.
In 1681 two Salem women, wrapped in white, were ‘set on stools in the aisle of the meeting-house through the long service, having on their heads a paper bearing the name of their crime’, and in 1697 in Maine, Ruth Gouch, being found guilty of a hateful crime, was ordered ‘to stand in a white sheet publickly in the Congregation, two several Sabbath days, and likewise one day in the General Court’.
Webster, Catherine (England)
If you covet someone’s belongings, how do you gain possession of them? If you steal them, you run the risk of being caught with them by the police; the risk is even greater if you first murder the owner. Even if you effectively dispose of the body, how do you claim ownership of the belongings afterwards? Catherine Webster thought she knew the answer – but her ultimate appearance in the company of hangman William Marwood on the scaffold proved just how wrong she was.
Kate, as she was generally known, already had a criminal record. Born in Ireland, a thief and a pickpocket when young, she stole sufficient money to buy a boat ticket to Liverpool and then moved to the south of the country. By the age of thirty she’d had various jobs, invariably leaving after having stolen minor items of value, and in 1879 she was employed in Richmond as a maid by a Mrs Julia Martha Thomas, a rather strict woman who believed that her staff, when given time off, should return on time. On occasions, though, Kate would remain drinking in the local public house until closing time, and for this she was rebuked by her employer. On 2 March 1879, however, things were different. Kate was late, Mrs Thomas furious, and a bitter row ensued. Kate’s ungovernable temper got the better of her and, going out to the garden shed, she returned with an axe which she proceeded to bury in Mrs Thomas’ skull. She then went to bed.
Next morning she got up, washed and dressed, had breakfast, then calmly set about dismembering her mistress’ body with the axe, dumping the large pieces of flesh and bone in the copper. Filling it up with water, she lighted the fire beneath it, and passed the time by scrubbing the bloodstains from the floor and walls. The remains, being by then easier to handle, she allowed to cool down before putting them in an assortment of bags. Taking them one at a time, she then threw them over the bridge into the River Thames. Having got rid of them all, she returned and, assuming the identity of her dead employer, promptly advertised the house and its contents for sale.
Unfortunately, the parapet of the bridge being rather high, not all the packages fell into the river; one landed close to the bank, where it was later found by an angler. His shocked reaction can well be imagined when, on opening it, he found the contents to be chunks of boiled flesh. The police were informed and, the remains being discovered to be those of Mrs Thomas, they hastened round to her address, only to find that the bird had flown – Kate, having made a quick though profitable sale of just about everything, had sailed for Ireland.
Catherine Webster was arrested at her home in Killane by the Royal Irish Constabulary, where she was found to have some of Mrs Thomas’ valuables in her possession. Brought back to England, she appeared in court in the Old Bailey on 2 July 1879, charged with murder. Despite vehemently claiming to be innocent of the crime, and blaming everyone else, including some of those who had bought the household effects, she was found guilty.
On 29 July hangman William Marwood, having earlier lingered near her cell and covertly assessed her weight and average fitness in order to calculate the length of drop he should give her, greeted her on Wandsworth Prison scaffold. Ignoring her abusive though muffled outbursts, he expertly hooded and noosed her, then mentally congratulated himself on the accuracy of his mathematics as she dropped like a stone and died within seconds.
It was said that at the very end she had confessed to the murder – but never revealed the whereabouts of the bag containing Mrs Thomas’ head. And as for the rumours that jars of human dripping were sold to local innkeepers at the time, only Kate – and the cooks involved – could say yea or nay!
Whether or not ‘the prisoner ate a hearty meal’ always fascinated the public and in the case of Barbara Graham, mentioned elsewhere, the media supplied the details, reporting that it consisted of a hot fudge sundae and a milkshake which she drank while listening to jazz records.
The Execution of Catherine Webster
White, Mary (England)
Follow
ing an execution, vendors of broadsheets containing descriptions of the condemned person and his or her crime, together with a picture of the felon on the gallows (usually the same picture at every execution!), and sometimes a tear-jerking poem, would ply their wares around the streets. One of the leading printers of these was James Catnatch who had offices in the Seven Dials district of London in the early 1800s. As a typical example of the melodramatic Victorian phraseology employed in such leaflets, his actual broadsheet recounting the ‘’Orrible Scene’ at Mary’s execution is quoted here in full. And even if you’ve felt no compassion for any of the women so far, please shed a tear for Mary as you read this – for she was innocent!
Broadsheet of Mary White’s Execution
The Life, Trial and Execution of MARY WHITE. Aged 19, she was executed at Exeter on Saturday last, for the murder of her Master and Mistress; giving an account of HER INNOCENCE BEING PROVED AND THE REAL MURDERER DISCOVERED.
The master and mistress of the above female were most inhumanly butchered by having their throats cut from ear to ear. This young woman had lived servant with these aged and unfortunate people upwards of seven years, and was much esteemed by all who knew her; and by her general good conduct had gained the confidence of those with whom she lived, who entrusted her with the management of their affairs and placed the greatest reliance on her honesty. They had kept the large Inn at Exeter for a number of years, but had a short time retired to a small pot-house, to pass the remainder of their days in greater quietude than the bustle of an inn permitted. It was the practice of the old couple to retire to rest about nine o’clock at night and rise about the same time in the morning, leaving everything to the servant’s care; not having any child of their own, it was generally believed that her master would behave handsomely to her, providing she married according to his wishes. This brought the girl a number of lovers and among them a young man, the name of Smith, was most assiduous in his attention towards her, who, behaved always with the greatest propriety, became a great favourite with the old couple.
Female Executions: Martyrs, Murderesses and Madwomen Page 21