15
Death
Ignatius Paul Pollaky died on 25 February 1918 aged 90 years in Brighton, almost nine months before the end of World War One. He and Mary Ann had lived in the house in Brighton for thirty-four years, the longest time that either had lived at a single address. The death certificate listed the causes of death as old age and cardiac failure. His daughter Mabel Chapman who was present was the informant. The announcement of his death in The Times three days later states his request that there should be no flowers at his funeral. The obituary printed there the same day was entitled ‘“Paddington Pollaky”. A DETECTIVE MENTIONED IN SULLIVAN OPERA’. It summarised his work, saying, ‘he acted through life on the principle of “Audi, vide, tace”’ [listen, look, be silent] and went on to say of his later life, ‘He was a well-known figure on the sea front at Brighton. He occasionally wore some half a dozen foreign decorations.’ This is the only mention I have found of his wearing these medals, though we know he had at least one. Obituaries appeared in other newspapers as well, including the Daily Mail on 28 February, and the Observer on 3 March.
The March 1918 edition of the journal Notes and Queries has a short paragraph on Pollaky’s Times obituary. The writer, Cecil Clarke, concludes with his own thought on Pollaky: ‘He was certainly a remarkably astute investigator of crime’. The index to the collected journal for that year has the following entry: ‘Pollaky (Ignatius Paul) Celebrated Detective’.
Pollaky’s will has no surprises – he left his entire estate – gross value £9,887 10s 5d to his wife:
I Ignatius Paul Pollaky of 33 Stanford Avenue Brighton in the County of Sussex Gentleman – hereby revoke all former testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last Will I give all my estate both real and personal unto my dear wife Mary Ann Pollaky absolutely and I appoint her sole Executrix of this my Will In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand this Fourteenth day of August One thousand nine hundred and sixteen.
After her husband’s death, Mary Ann moved back to London and lived at 16 Kempshott Road, Wandsworth. Who can say how their relationship had been towards the end of her husband’s life. He had been in a somewhat confused state of mind for some time if Fitzroy Gardner is to be believed (see Chapter 13). And yet some years after that meeting, Pollaky was single-minded enough to make a lucid application for British citizenship. This was so important to him, that one must surely hope that Mary Ann was supportive of his great need for security and attachment.
Mary Ann was now living at an address approximately half way between her two daughters, though about 10 miles from either one. Nevertheless, visits to her family must have been made much easier than they otherwise would have been had she remained in Brighton. Though she had lived there for thirty-four years, perhaps it had been her husband’s wish that they went there to live and not her own. She died in 1923 aged 82 and was buried with her husband.
The inscription on the gravestone reads:
IN LOVING MEMORY OF
MY DEAR HUSBAND
IGNATIUS PAUL POLLAKY
WHO PASSED AWAY FEBY 25TH 1918. AGED 90 YEARS
ALSO OUR CHILDREN
LILY. DIED JULY 25TH 1862.
PAULINE. (LENA)
DIED FEBY 27TH 1871. IN HER 8TH YEAR.
WILLIAM ERNEST.
DIED JULY 18TH 1872. AGED 5 MONTHS.
FRANCIS HUGHES JAMES.
DIED SEPT 7TH 1899. AGED 33 YEARS.
INTERRED IN MAITLAND PARK CEMETERY. CAPE TOWN.
MINNA MARY ANN.
WHO DIED AT WILLOWMORE. S.AFRICA.OCT 3RD 1899
AGED 35 YEARS.
“UNTIL THE DAY BREAK.”
ALSO MARY ANN.
WIDOW OF THE ABOVE I.P.POLLAKY
AND DEARLY LOVED MOTHER OF
ROSE CATHERINE VARRELMANN
AND MABEL MARY CHAPMAN.
WHO ENTERED INTO REST NOVEMBER 18TH 1923. AGED 82.
‘ON THAT HAPPY EASTER MORNING.’
‘Until the day break’ is a quotation from the Song of Solomon 4:6. ‘On that happy Easter morning’ is a line from a hymn entitled, ‘On the Resurrection Morning’ words by Sabine Baring-Gold. The full verse is:
On that happy Easter morning
All the graves their dead restore.
Father, mother, sister, brother,
Meet once more.
This gravestone tells a touching story – a mini biography of its own. First born child, Lily, was stillborn. The next four children all pre-deceased their parents, one as a baby, one as a young child and two as adults while in South Africa. Father died next, and finally the mother, leaving behind two married daughters. Minna Mary Ann and Francis Hughes James are both interred in South Africa. Her grave is in very poor condition.
Kensal Green Cemetery is an interesting place with a number of famous and well-known residents, including authors – Thackeray, Trollope, Wilkie Collins; poets – Leigh Hunt; composers – Balfe, Benedict, Wallace (the three who each wrote an opera which together became known as the ‘English Ring’ – The Bohemian Girl, The Lily of Kilarney and Maritana); and many others.
The Pollaky stone lies in a comparatively unassuming spot, evidently not cared for for some time.
Appendices
Many of the exploits of Ignatius Pollaky are, unfortunately, still relevant today. Child abduction and abuse, sex trafficking, and police corruption are just three of the issues of the day that he tried to work against. That those matters and others are still reported in the press today is a sad reflection on society at large.
Meanwhile, the following appendices offers some lighter things connected with Pollaky. The first item was one of a number published in 1863 under the heading ‘Small-Beer Chronicles’. While critical of inquiry office agents who stand on street corners as a breed (and Pollaky in particular), it is, nevertheless, a complex but amusing tale of relatives trying to win the favour of an elderly, wealthy aunt who keeps changing her will.
APPENDIX I
From: All the Year Round, 20 June 1863 by Charles Dickens
‘Small-Beer Chronicles’ [Extract]
In the second column of the Times advertisement-sheet appeared, the other day, these mysterious words, ‘Audi, vidi, tace’ – coupled with the announcement that a trustworthy personage was just about to start for the Continent with a view to certain ‘private inquiries.’ The advertisement was inserted by one Messrs Pollaky and Co.
Now, here is a new state of things. This organised spy system has sprung into existence quite recently. By the advertisements issued from this office of Mr Pollaky’s, and from another similar establishment kept by retired Inspector Field, you are invited to place in the hands of these gentlemen any affair you want cleared up, entrusting the particulars to them, relying on their secresy, and on the diligence they will show in serving you. But what sort of inquiries are those in which the ex-detectives are ready to engage? What sort of people are those who apply to Messrs Pollaky and Field for their secret services?
I wonder to what extent the establishments of these purveyors of useful information are patronised by the public? Of one thing I am quite sure – there are more men to be seen standing about at the corners of streets than there used to be. Are these men – they are generally seedy in their attire, and in the habit of sucking small pieces of straw or chewing the stalks of leaves to while away the time – are these men the agents of Pollaky and Co., and for what are they on the look-out? For more things, depend on it, than are dreamed of in our philosophy. When Mrs Drinkwater Dreggs gives two dinner-parties, one following the other, all the guests who are invited to one of those festivals are instantly seized with a firm conviction that the dinner to which they are not asked is the distinguished one, while the meal at which they are invited to figure is the second-rate affair. Now, it is not too much to suppose that these suspicious personages are in the habit of putting their difficulties in the hands of Messrs Pollaky and Co. Away goes the trustworthy emissary to Wilton-crescent. He plants himself un
der the lamp-post, he observes what proportion the cabs which drive up to Mrs Dreggs’s door bear to the private carriages, he studies the appearance of the guests, and, being a shrewd individual, forms his own opinion as to their rank in the social scale; or, if unable to do this, perhaps he will get into conversation with the waiter, who comes to the door for a little air while the gentlemen are over their wine, and from him learns exactly what sort of company is being entertained within. With the information he has gained, the trustworthy one returns to his employer, and next morning the Seedymans, who were at the first party, and who had the pleasure of meeting a society of nobodies, who, for the most part, reached their destination in cabs and flies, learn that, on the occasion of the second festival, there was a ‘regular swell turnout, with only one cab, and that a Hansom; and that the company comprised, among other distinguished persons, a baronet and his lady, a dowager-countess, a genius, two members of parliament, and consorts, and a cabinet minister’. This knowledge the Seedymans then take to their hearts, and batten thereon to their souls’ hurt, but with a certain malignant pleasure, nevertheless.
Or, still keeping to this question of dinner-giving, what facilities are afforded to rival house-keepers, through the agency of Pollaky and Co., for observing the amount of aid which is given to each by the neighbouring pastrycook! When Mrs A. last dined with Mrs B., it struck her that the entrées had a professional look and flavour; so, the next time Mrs B. entertains her friend and neighbour, she – instructed by Pollaky – will remark, as the pastrycook’s vol-au-vent circulates, ‘My dear, what an excellent cook you have got; where did you find such a treasure?’
Probably, also, there is a certain amount of occupation furnished to the Pollaky fraternity by that cupidity and desire for gain which dwells in a few human bosoms. When the heirs apparent, presumptive, or expectant, of a wealthy gentleman clean past his youth, hear of his forming such and such new acquaintances, is it likely that Pollaky’s Trustworthy one will be forgotten? Will he not be there, at the corner by the lamp-post, watching the frequency of the visits paid by the new friends? Or, suppose it is an aged and single aunt well represented in the British Funds, whose movements are viewed with suspicion. Suppose a host of cousins, with an enterprising mamma, come up from the country, and take a house a few doors from that of the interesting fundholder; is it likely that Pollaky will be forgotten then? Imagine the report which the Trustworthy one would send, in this case, and the consternation it would create. ‘Sep.10, 186 – Took up position at corner at 11 a.m. – Position commanding a view of the premises occupied by both the parties whose movements I was directed to watch, namely, No.7, the residence of Miss Stocks, and No.13, occupied temporarily by Mrs Hunter and daughters.
‘11.15. Servant-maid steps out from No.13 with plate of hothouse grapes and book, rings at No.7, holds long conference with servant – elderly female – leaves both book and grapes, and retires. Shortly afterwards, female servant emerges from No.7 with same book and grapes and rings at No.13, delivers grapes and book and message, which I was too far off to hear. Servant, however, of No.13 looks blank, and closes door. Servant from No.7 returns home.
‘11.45. Bath-chair appears in street and draws up – empty – in front of No.7. A lady – middle-aged – is seen at window of 13; she observes the Bath-chair, and retires hurriedly. Presently door of No.13 is partially opened, and servant from time to time peeps out. In few minutes door of No.7 opens, and elderly man-servant appears with bundle of cloaks and wrappers on arm, which he arranges in Bath-chair, and at the same moment young lady comes hastily out of No.13, places small cushion, covered with red silk, embroidered, at back of chair and retires – door of 13 still a-jar. At twelve o’clock, door of No.7 opens again, and old lady descends steps very slowly, assisted by elderly man-servant. Chair opened, wrappers arranged. Old lady points fiercely to red silk cushion, and appears to be questioning elderly man-servant, who points towards No.13 as he replies. Old lady sends him off with cushion to 13, and gets into chair assisted by elderly female-servant of great respectability. Then young lady, same as observed before, comes out of No.13 apparently in tears, and holding cushion in hand. She approaches chair and addresses old lady, who pushes away cushion as often as offered, and gives directions for chair to move on. Young lady is retiring, when suddenly chair is brought to a stop again, and elderly female-servant is sent back. She hastens after young lady of No.13, and, overtaking her, the two return towards chair, young lady still carrying cushion. Old lady seems now to agree to receive cushion, for it is placed behind her head, and young lady again retires, smiling sweetly. Chair stopped again, and elderly female again sent back. Again overtakes young lady, and both return to chair. Short parley, and then chair moves on once more, young lady and respectable female, one on each side, arranging cushions and wrappers incessantly, till chair reaches corner of street and is lost to sight.
‘12.50. Chair reappears at corner, and descends street. As it passes position occupied by self, young lady heard to say, ‘Now, dear Aunt Stocks, you know it is just your luncheon-time, do let us send you in the grapes again.’ Old lady replies, ‘No; I don’t want ’em.’ Rest of speech, if any, lost in consequence of chair passing out of earshot. Servant hurries on to ring at No.7; door opens immediately; old lady enters, and young ditto is left standing outside. She retires to No.13, goes in, and all is quiet.
‘2.5. Door of No.7 re-opens, female servant comes out bearing small note; takes it to No.13, and after short conversation with girl who opens door, leaves note and returns again to No. 7. Soon afterwards door of 13 again flies open, and young lady – same as observed before – passes from No.13 to No.7, and is admitted. In about five minutes, however, she appears again, and returns home. She would seem to be in tears.
‘2.25. A young lady – not same observed before, but considerably younger – issues from No.13, rings at No.7, and goes in. Shortly afterwards, close carriage drawn by two fat horses, and driven by fat coachman, comes down street. It stops at No.7. It is empty. Door of No.7 opens, and middle-aged man-servant, standing on steps, conversed with coachman. Approaching as nearly as could judiciously, heard fragments of conversation. Both spoke low, and I was obliged to listen with all my ears. ‘Well,’ says Butler, ‘she do seem to have took a fancy to t’other one to-day.’ ‘Ah!’ replies coachman; ‘’taint long as she’ll fancy e’er a one of the lot.’ ‘Yes, you’re about right there, Simpson,’ says Butler. And then there came a bit which I couldn’t catch. Presently they talked a little louder, and then heard Butler say, ‘Mr. Wyly, the lawyer, he was up here ever so long yesterday, and closeted with missus; and before he went Mrs Cookson and me, we was called in to witness the signature of one of these here codicils, or whatever they are; but lord! Simpson, she makes a new one ‘most hevery month. Between you and me, Simpson, I shouldn’t wonder if she was to leave every penny away from hall of ’em, and give it to the Fondling or the Indignant Blind.’ ‘And a good job too,’ replied the other. They would have gone on longer, only old lady appeared at that moment at door, with same female servant, elderly and respectable, that I before noted, and young lady – not cushion, and Bath-chair one, but the other whom I had not seen before – and then they both got into the carriage, and after a deal of packing up in cloaks, and wrappers, and all the rest of it, the vehicle drove off, respectable serving-woman went back into house, and Butler was left standing on steps, and whistling softly to self. But soon after he went in too, slammed door after him, and all was again quiet.’
(Journal continued.) ‘At this time retired to public-house at corner, and ordered chop. While partaking of same in parlour – window of which commanded No.7, house occupied by the old lady, who had just gone out for carriage-airing – observed middle-aged lady accompanied by a young ditto – not one of those whom I had previously seen – descend steps of No.13, and ascend steps of No.7. Door answered by respectable woman-servant, with whom both ladies shook hands cordially, then just standing inside door, opened a large li
ght-looking whity-brown paper parcel which elder lady held, and taking out a very smart cap much bedizened with ribbons, presented same to respectable servant. Respectable servant made show of refusing cap, but ladies insisting, she yielded, and all shaking hands once again, ladies descended steps, smiling, and went away.
‘5.15. Carriage returns, containing old lady of No.7 and young miss, who both go into No.7 together, and carriage drives away. About an hour afterwards, door being opened for servant to take in evening paper, and it being now dark, can see in lighted hall, plates and dishes, and other signs that dinner is going on. In about an hour, door re-opens, subordinate servant-maid leaving it on jar, takes small three-cornered note to No.13, and leaves same without waiting for answer. In very short space of time middle-aged lady, two daughters, and little girl, all emerge from 13, with wrappers over heads and smiling countenances, and knocking at No.7, are instantly admitted.
‘9.50. The whole party from No.13 – middle-aged lady, three grown-up daughters, and little girl – come out of No.7. They take a polite leave of butler at hall door, and return home. Each of them carries small morocco-covered case in hand. SHOULD SAY THEY WERE PRESENTS.’
What would be the feelings of the individuals who had employed Messrs Pollaky’s agent to watch those two houses, Nos 7 and 13, on perusing the above report! How they would foam with rage as they read that at last the embroidered cushion had been accepted; that one of those ‘odious girls’ had succeeded in forcing her company upon her aunt when the old lady took her Bath-chair exercise, while another was promoted to the honour of a seat in the carriage! Then, again, that present of the cap to the confidential servant, what depths of treachery would that act not suggest? Lastly, that hideous picture of the whole family retiring from the house of the opulent one, laden with presents – old family jewels, perhaps – and making night hideous with the exulting smiles which beamed upon their graceless countenances. Oh! surely here is something like an occasion for Mr Pollaky and his trustworthy young man, and surely the annals of that sinister office must contain such cases. If not, it soon will, to a dead certainty.
Paddington' Pollaky, Private Detective Page 27