FDSD Islington

by John Eddleston

  Chapter 8

  Robert Robinson Tripp

  1857

  Edward Silence was in a deep sleep in the small hours of 7 April 1857, when a noise disturbed him. At first, Silence was unable to place the noise but, as he sat up in bed, he heard a voice calling him from the rooms upstairs.

  Silence lodged in rooms, at 28 Gifford Street, and he knew that there was one other lodger in the house, Robert Tripp, an old man of sixty-two, who had the rooms upstairs. The voice Silence had heard, though, did not seem to be Tripp’s. Rather it sounded like their landlord, thirty-three-year-old James Scott, a master baker, from Freeling Street, who also dabbled a little in property, and owned the house that Silence and Tripp lived in.

  Going upstairs, Silence found both Tripp and Scott on the landing outside Tripp’s room. It was very dark, but Silence could see that Mr Scott had some kind of paper in his hand. Scott then asked Silence if he would return to his own rooms, and bring up a light, so that they might see better. Silence did as his landlord asked, and was back, with a candle, a few minutes later.

  As James Scott began to read from the paper, Silence knew that it was an official notice, informing Tripp that, because he was behind with his rent, his goods would be seized in order to cover the arrears. Tripp, meanwhile, had taken a key from his pocket, and now opened the door to his rooms. He paused briefly, and then dashed inside, for a moment or two, Tripp then returned to the landing with a large cutlass in his hand. Without another word, Tripp then plunged the blade into Scott’s left side. As Scott staggered backwards, Tripp attempted to strike for a second time but Silence threw out his arm, and managed to push the weapon aside. Satisfied with what he had done, Robert Tripp walked into his rooms and calmly closed the door behind him.

  It was obvious that Scott was very badly hurt. Edward Silence managed to get him downstairs, and supported him as they walked to the surgery of Dr Horatio Siliphant. It was 3.00am, by the time the doctor attended to Scott, but the wound was so severe, that he ordered Scott to be taken to his own home at Freeling Street, the doctor going with him, so that he could be treated in his own bed.

  The police were informed of the attack and, as a result, Constable Benjamin Hill, who was on duty nearby, was despatched to Gifford Street to arrest Tripp. Hill arrived at Tripp’s lodgings, and knocked boldly on the door. A voice from within asked who it was. Informed that it was the police, Tripp pointed out that the door was unlocked. and that they should come straight in.

  Tripp was sitting in an easy chair, smoking his pipe. By the side of the chair, now safely in its scabbard, was a cutlass. Constable Hill informed Tripp that he wished to speak to him about the attack upon Mr Scott. Tripp replied: ‘He is my landlord. I told him that I owed him some rent; that it was an unreasonable hour; and that if he would call on Saturday, I would pay. I persuaded him to go out, but he refused, and then I stabbed him.’

  Hill asked Tripp what weapon he had used. Tripp nodded towards the weapon at the side of the chair and said: ‘The cutlass, and I hope I have given him his death wound. If it had not been for Mr Silence, I would have cut his head off.’

  On the way to the police station, Tripp asked Hill if Scott were dead. Told that he was not, but that his injury was severe, Tripp commented: ‘I am sorry for that. I am sorry I have not given him his death wound.’

  At the station, Tripp was seen by Sergeant George Beckley. Constable Hill informed his sergeant of the charge, and said that the injured man had been taken to the hospital. This was not the case, though Hill did not know that. Tripp merely said: ‘If it had not been for the lodger, there would have been no occasion to take him to the hospital.’

  Despite the ministrations of Dr Siliphant, James Scott died from his wound at 1.30am on 8 April. The charge against Robert Tripp was then amended to one of wilful murder.

  Tripp’s trial took place at the Old Bailey, before Baron Watson, on 15 June 1857. The case for the prosecution was led by Mr Bodkin, who was assisted by Mr Robinson. Tripp was defended by Mr Metcalfe and Mr Orridge.

  The first witness was Edward Silence, the man who lodged at the same address as the prisoner. Silence began by describing himself as a house painter, and confirmed that he occupied the ground floor at 28 Gifford Street, whilst Tripp occupied the first floor. At about 2.30am on 7 April, Silence had been woken by a noise. He got up and unlocked his door, whereupon he heard Mr Scott say: ‘Mr. Silence, come up stairs.’ Upon going up, Mr Scott had said: ‘Mr Silence, can you get a light?’ Almost as soon as he had done so, Tripp had gone into his room, returned holding the sword, and stabbed Mr. Scott. When he was struck, Scott staggered back against the hand rail and cried out: ‘I am stabbed.’

  After Constable Hill and Sergeant Beckley had given their evidence, the prosecution called George Willis. He was a house agent, and said he had called on the prisoner on 3 April. Whilst there, they had some conversation about an earlier occasion when Tripp had fallen into arrears with his rent.

  That had been the previous November, and at that time, Scott had sent the bailiffs in and seized some of Tripp’s belongings. They had then been sold off to pay the debt. Apparently this still upset Tripp, who said that he would not permit such a thing to ever happen again. Willis had suggested that if he was not happy living in Scott’s house, he might be better off finding a new address. Tripp had replied that he would leave only when he wished to, and he would let no man put him out of his home.

  Dr Siliphant, in addition to treating Scott’s wound, had also performed the post-mortem after he had died. He reported a single deep wound on the left side. The blade of the cutlass used, had penetrated the intestines and cut through part of the bowel. That single wound was undoubtedly the direct cause of death.

  In his summing up for the defence, Mr Metcalfe claimed that his client had been sorely provoked. There could be no doubt that Tripp owed money to Mr Scott but the latter had actually behaved illegally. He was, of course, entitled to collect his rent but not at 2.30am in the morning. At the same time, whilst Tripp was an elderly man, Scott was a muscular, fit and well-built man. There was no suggestion that he had used any violence upon Tripp, but if he had done so, then the court would not be hearing a case of murder, as any man had the right to defend himself. The crime would, quite rightly, be reduced to one of manslaughter, and surely that should be the case now.

  The jury retired to consider their verdict and, apparently, took the words of Mr Metcalfe to heart. They found Robert Tripp not guilty of murder, but guilty of manslaughter.

  Before passing sentence, the trial judge pointed out that it was quite right that a man may defend himself, he must not use a weapon such as a cutlass, unless he were in fear of his life. That had not been the case in the killing of James Scott and, consequently, he saw no reason to award a lenient sentence. Tripp was then sentenced to eight years in prison.

  Chapter 9

  Thomas Robert Davis

  1857

  Though it was completely erroneous, Thomas Davis had managed to convince himself that his wife, Mary Ann, had been having an affair with a soldier. It did not matter that he had no proof, or that he couldn’t even name the soldier supposedly concerned in this liaison. The suspicion was there, and it preyed upon his mind.

  On Tuesday 6 October 1857, Thomas and Mary Ann had been away from their home at 11 Dorset Street, Islington, for most of the day. At approximately 10.40pm, or perhaps a little later, they entered the Royal George public house, in Lower Road, where Thomas ordered a rum, and a pot of beer. He and Mary Ann, together with their four year old daughter, then sat quietly in a corner, where Thomas drank the rum, giving a sip to Mary Ann. In all, they were only in the pub for around three minutes before they left; Mary Ann carrying the child in her arms, and Thomas carrying the pot of beer.

  They were seen in the street outside by two people, who knew them well. Mark Welch was a waiter at a different public house, the Royal William on Ball’s Pond Road. He had just left work, and was walking down Lower Road, wh
en he saw Thomas and Mary Ann walking down the street, heading in the direction of their home. Welch noticed that Thomas was very unsteady on his feet, and obviously the worse for drink.

  The second person to see them close to the Royal George, was Edmund Phillips. He was a neighbour of the Davis’s, living just around the corner from them, in Albion Road. He also thought that Thomas looked to be under the influence of drink, though he believed that Mary Ann was perfectly sober. He heard no cross words pass between them, as they passed him, and bade him goodnight.

  Sarah Stromp and her husband, John, also lived in 11 Dorset Street. They had lodgings on the second floor, whilst Thomas and Mary Ann lived below them, on the first. By 11.30pm, both Sarah and John were in bed. Sarah was still awake, but John was asleep and snoring loudly.

  The walls in the house were rather thin, and raised voices would always be heard, by the others who lived in the house. So, when an argument broke out between Thomas and Mary Ann, Sarah could hear clearly all that was said. Thomas began by accusing his wife of being a bloody soldier’s whore, to which Mary Ann replied: ‘No, Davis, I have enough with you. One is quite enough for me.’ At that, Thomas said that he would get his razor, and settle this matter once and for all.

  Fearful that something terrible was about to happen, Sarah Stromp woke her husband, and asked him to go downstairs, to speak to Thomas. Even as John was pulling on his trousers, a loud scream rang through the building, and Mary Ann cried: ‘Murder!’ three times.

  John Stromp hurried downstairs, closely followed by his wife. They found Thomas standing near his bedroom door, a half open razor in his hand, dripping with blood. Mary Ann was staggering down the hallway, heading towards the front door, with her daughter clutched in her arms. She was bleeding profusely, from a vicious wound in her throat. So bad was the wound, that even her daughter was covered in the fast flowing crimson liquid.

  As John Stromp held on to Thomas Davis, his wife, Sarah, ran out into the street, after Mary Ann who, by now, had placed her daughter on the ground. As Mary Ann ran into the middle of the street, her tearful and terrified daughter hung onto her nightdress, crying out for someone to help her mother.

  The police were on the scene in minutes, alerted by the screams. By the time they had arrived, however, Mary Ann had breathed her last. Thomas Davis found himself arrested, taken to the Kingsland police station, and charged with the murder of his wife.

  The trial took place at the Old Bailey just twenty days later, on 26 October. After Sarah Stromp had told her story, her husband stepped into the witness box. John Stromp testified that, upon seizing hold of the prisoner, he had asked: ‘For God’s sake, what have you done Davis?’ Thomas had replied: ‘Now I have done it, I am a happy man.’ Seconds later he handed over the razor saying: ‘This is what I have done it with.’ He then asked John to let him go, so that he could go out into the yard at the back of the house. John refused to release him, saying that he would only let go when a constable had arrived to take him into custody.

  Sarah Ann Day was another lodger at 11 Dorset Street, and she had also heard the loud argument between Thomas and his wife. She had also heard him call her a ‘bloody soldier’s whore’. Throughout the argument, and the subsequent attack upon Mary Ann, her daughter was begging for her parents to stop shouting at each other.

  Mary Anne Harman also lived in Dorset Street, but at number 17. On the night in question, she had been out for a drink, and upon returning home, had opened her front window to let some air into the house, it being quite a warm night. She had heard the argument and the cries of ‘Murder!’ and, looking out of her window, saw Mary Ann Davis run into the street, blood pouring from a wound in her throat. By the time Mrs Harman had run out into the street to help her neighbour, she had collapsed into the arms of a gentleman passing by. Even as Mrs Harman took Mary Ann Davis into her own arms, she breathed her last and died.

  Dr James Williamson had been called to the scene, by the police. By the time he arrived, Mary Ann was already dead. Dr Williamson made a careful examination, and saw a single wound, extending from the right side of the neck, across to the large muscles on the left. The jugular vein, on both sides of the neck, had been severed and the wind-pipe cut through. Mary Ann had lost a vast amount of blood, causing her death within minutes of the wound being inflicted.

  Constable James Haliday was the first officer on the scene. He had been on patrol nearby, when he heard the cries for help. It was Haliday who arrested Thomas Davis.

  Sergeant Henry Bovis had also been close to Dorset Street, and heard the cries. Going to Dorset Street, Bovis went up to Davis’s rooms, and when Thomas saw him, he merely said: ‘Well, sergeant, shake hands with me.’

  Thomas was escorted to the Kingsland police station, where he arrived at 12.50am on Wednesday 7 October. He was seen by Inspector George Langdon, who felt that the prisoner was too drunk to be interviewed at that stage. Later, at around 3.00am, Thomas asked to see the Inspector, to whom he made a brief statement, admitting responsibility for the crime.

  That confession, together with the testimony of the various witnesses, meant that the guilty verdict was little more than a formality. Sentenced to death, Thomas Robert Davis was hanged outside Newgate prison on Monday 16 November 1857. Justice had certainly moved very quickly. It was a day short of six weeks, since Thomas had taken Mary Ann’s life.

  Chapter 10

  Sarah Sadler

  1861

  William John Brooks Collins ran a baker’s shop, from premises at 8 Scott’s Place, Lower Road, Islington. He lived there with Sarah Sadler, his common-law wife, and his daughter from a previous relationship, Jane Collins. Whilst William was a social drinker, only taking the occasional glass, Sarah liked to imbibe freely and, once she was in drink, would become very argumentative.

  On Tuesday 11 December 1860 Sarah was, once again, proving to be rather difficult, and yet another argument ensued. To keep the peace, William suggested that they should go for a drink, at the nearby Crown public house. Sarah agreed, but the visit to the Crown did nothing to soothe her temper. She carried on arguing, and things became so bad, that William asked the landlord to put Sarah out into the street. The landlord was more than happy to oblige, and Sarah was thrown out, leaving William to finish his pint in peace.

  It was around 9.00pm when William left the Crown, only to find Sarah waiting outside for him. She greeted him with foul language, and then lashed out at him, knocking his hat from his head. A weary William bent down, picked up his hat, and without saying a word to Sarah, walked back towards the bakery. Sarah followed and, at the moment William walked through his doorway, she formed a double fist and struck William violently on the right side of his head. Sarah then ran off into the street, and did not return to Scott’s Place again.

  This attack was witnessed by Jane Collins, who was behind the counter, inside the shop. She saw her father stagger forward and, had it not been for the fact that he slumped into a chair, William would certainly have fallen to the floor. Jane went to minister to her father, who said his head was hurting from the blow, and that he had better go up to bed.

  The next morning, 12 December, William rose at his usual early hour and began operating his business. His head, though, was still very painful and he found that after just a couple of hours work, he needed to retire back to his bed. Jane took care of her father for the rest of the day.

  Over the next few days, this was repeated. William would try to maintain his usual routine, but each day he found that he could not work more than a couple of hours. Most of the time he was back in bed, hoping that the pain in his head would eventually pass.

  By Monday 17 December, things had grown so bad that Jane felt that she had no choice but to call in the doctor. Dr Charles Seymour Thane duly attended, and found his patient suffering from an acute pain in his head, a violent cough, shivering and vomiting. Over the next few days, Dr Thane continued to administer medical treatment, but William Collins did not improve.

  O
n Thursday 20 December, Sarah Sadler called on Dr Thane at his surgery, and asked how William Collins was. The doctor informed her that he believed that his patient was close to death, and that the authorities had been informed of her attack upon William, and were now looking for her.

  Three days later, on 23 December, Sarah was arrested by Constable Herbert Stammers. He informed her that she was being taken for striking William Collins, and placing his life in danger. Sarah replied: ‘Me strike him? I never struck him.’ Reminded that it was likely that William would die, Sarah retorted: ‘He will never die. He has been dying this four years, but if he was here now, I would give him something, if I get hung for it.’

  On 1 January 1861, William Collins died, and Sarah found herself facing a charge of manslaughter. She appeared in court to answer that charge on 28 January.

  James Lovett was a friend of William Collins, and had heard many arguments between him and the prisoner. On 11 December, Lovett had been in the Crown, had witnessed the latest argument, and Sarah being put out into the street. As she was escorted out she shouted: ‘This penny I have got in my hand, I’ll bury in your head tonight.’ Lovett had left the Crown at about the same time as William, and saw Sarah knock his hat off.

  James Easey, a cheesemonger, lived next door but one to William, at 4 Scott’s Place. He had been at the front door of his shop on 11 December, and saw Sarah knock William’s hat off. He also saw her strike William with a double fist, as he entered his own shop.

  Dr Thane informed the court that he had performed a post-mortem on William and had found no external marks of violence whatsoever. Upon opening the body, Dr Thane found an effusion of blood on the brain, and believed that the cause of death was an inflammation of the membrane of the brain, brought on by the blow he had received from Sarah. However, when questioned by Sarah, Dr Thane also had to admit that he had treated William some three months before when he had been attacked and robbed by a group of men in Green Man’s Lane. William had been knocked about, and was very bruised, but DrThane said he did not believe that an attack three months before could have contributed to William’s death. Further questioning, however, brought the admission that both of William’s lungs were very diseased, though he could well have lived for a few more years.