FDSD Islington

by John Eddleston

  At 10.00pm, Merchan and Dr Andrew David Duckett, returned to Arundel Grove. By now, Alice had been washed and changed, her children having informed Susan King of Mr Merchan’s earlier visit, but an examination showed that Alice was badly malnourished. She also had a number of sores on her body, almost certainly caused by irritation from lying in urine and faeces on a regular basis. Dr Duckett ordered that the child be removed to a safer house. That same night, little Alice Butcher was handed over to Mrs Jane Wells.

  When Jane Wells received Alice, the very first thing she did, was weigh her. Alice, by now six months old, weighed just five and a half pounds. Now, for the first time, since she had been handed over to Susan King, Alice was given proper care and feeding. Unfortunately, it had all come too late. Alice did not respond and, on 13 October, she died. Susan King was arrested and charged with manslaughter.

  Susan’s trial took place on 20 November 1871. After the child’s mother, Annie Butcher had told her story, the prosecution called Edwin Merchan, who detailed his visit to Susan’s home on 18 September. He was also able to confirm that, on his second visit, at 10.00pm, Susan had been under the influence of alcohol.

  Dr Duckett, in addition to examining Alice and ordering her removal, had also performed the post-mortem, after the child had died. He reported that all of her internal organs were healthy, except for her lungs and brain. The lungs were badly inflamed and this was undoubtedly due to the poor treatment she had received. The cause of death was malnutrition, which had effected the lungs.

  Eleanor Watson lived in the house next door to Susan, and had seen baby Alice when she had first arrived at the house. The child was healthy and robust then. Eleanor had only seen the child a couple of times since and by then she seemed to be very neglected. Eleanor had not, however, reported the matter to the police.

  Susan King tried her best to say that Alice had been sickly ever since she had taken her from her mother. She had fed her well, and looked after her properly, but the child never seemed to recover and, despite her best efforts, became more and more ill. This did not, however, agree with the testimony of the other witnesses and the jury duly returned a verdict that Susan was guilty of manslaughter. She was then sentenced to eighteen months in prison.

  Chapter 16

  Lydia Venables

  1872

  Lydia Venables had lived with Alfred Chatterton for some sixteen months, by the time they moved into rooms at 67 Roman Road, Islington. Lydia, a widow, had lost her husband some three years before. Alfred, a man with a very short temper, had also been married, but wife had walked out on him at about the same time, as Lydia’s husband died. Each of them brought a daughter to the new relationship. Alfred’s daughter was now seven years old, whilst Lydia’s daughter, Eliza, was three and a half. Lydia, though, doted on both children and was a good mother to them. Unfortunately, she was also rather fond of drink.

  Though the children were never neglected, and always had enough to eat, there were times when Lydia would spend just a little too much of her housekeeping allowance on alcohol. This would cause arguments between her and Alfred, and sometimes these arguments ended in violence. There was also the fact that Alfred favoured his own child over Lydia’s, and sometimes he beat Eliza. As a result, Lydia’s daughter, Eliza, was rather frightened of her mother’s new partner.

  On Tuesday 13 August 1872, Alfred, a cab driver, went to work, as usual at around 8.00am. He did not return home, to Roman Road, until close to 5.00pm, to find that Lydia had gone out drinking, and there was no meal ready for him or the children. This made Alfred very angry indeed and he immediately went back out, looking for Lydia in all her usual haunts. Having failed to find any sign of her, Alfred returned to their lodgings at 6.00pm, and prepared something for him and the children to eat. Soon after finishing the meal, he went back out, but left a note for Lydia which, in no uncertain terms, told her exactly what he thought of her actions.

  When Alfred went home again, at 8.30pm, he found Lydia waiting for him. She had obviously been drinking, though it could not be said that she was actually drunk. She had also read his curt note, and knew exactly what to expect now.

  An argument broke out, which ended when Alfred slapped Lydia across the face, before announcing that he was going out for the night. It wasn’t a very hard blow, but it was enough for Lydia to say: ‘Perhaps you won’t find me here when you get home.’ To this, Alfred replied: ‘And a very good job too, but mind you take your child with you.’ That last phrase preyed on Lydia’s mind, once Alfred had gone out. It was to lead to a terrible tragedy.

  Eliza Giles also lodged at 67 Roman Road. She heard some of the argument between Lydia and Alfred, and heard him storm out, slamming the front door behind him. Soon afterwards, Lydia also left the house, but Eliza saw her return, a few minutes later, with a pot of beer. Then, for an hour or so, all seemed to be quiet.

  At around 9.20pm, Eliza heard the elder girl, Alfred’s daughter, scream and then shout: ‘Oh mother, don’t mother!’ Eliza opened her front door and saw Lydia standing in the hallway. Lydia, seeing Eliza shouted: ‘I have done it. I have done it. No one else has done it but me. Come in and see.’

  Eliza walked into Lydia’s rooms and saw that both girls were in their respective beds. Alfred’s daughter sat bolt upright, a look of sheer terror on her face. As for little Eliza Venables, she lay in her cot, with her throat cut from ear to ear. Even as Eliza Giles looked upon this horrific scene, Lydia shouted: ‘This is the knife I did it with. Didn’t you hear me sharpening it on the poker?’ Fearful of what Lydia might do to the other girl, Eliza Giles gathered the child into her arms and took her into her own rooms.

  The scream had also been heard by Jane Simpson, the landlady of the house, who lived on the premises. She went upstairs, to see what the noise was all about, and found Lydia Venables at her front door saying: ‘Mrs Simpson, I have done it. She is happy now. Is she quite dead?’

  The police, and a doctor were called. Constable John Vere found Lydia at the foot of her child’s bed and, seeing the uniformed officer, Lydia remarked: ‘I have killed my child. I will go with you. I will not run away.’ She also told him that, what Alfred had said, had preyed on her mind, and she had feared that there would be no shelter for her, or her child. The only solution, in Lydia’s eyes, had been to protect her daughter, by taking her life.

  Eliza Venables was indeed dead. Dr Henry Straith was the medical gentleman called to the scene, and he noted that the child’s throat had been cut down to the spine. Her head was almost severed from her body.

  Charged with murder, Lydia Venables appeared at the Old Bailey on 19 August, just six days after she had killed her daughter. The prosecution case was outlined by Mr Ribton, whilst Lydia had two barristers to defend her: Mr Montagu Williams and Mr Straight.

  There was no suggestion that Lydia’s mind had been unbalanced at the time she took her child’s life, and there was no doubt, with her repeated admissions, that she was responsible for killing Eliza. The jury, therefore, had little alternative but to return a verdict that she was guilty as charged, though they did add a strong recommendation to mercy. Sentenced to death, the jury’s comments were taken to heart and Lydia’s sentence was eventually commuted to a term of imprisonment.

  Chapter 17

  George Hannay Wilson

  1873

  Sarah Wilson was a very worried woman. For some time now, her husband, George, had been behaving very erratically. So concerned had she become, that Sarah went to the local authorities, and asked if they could commit her husband to a mental asylum, so that he might get proper medical treatment.

  The authorities had arranged for George to be examined by a doctor, and he confirmed that George was suffering from severe mental problems, and should be hospitalised without delay. There was, however, a problem. Before they would grant him a place at a suitable asylum, those same authorities insisted that Sarah must pay for two separate bonds of £100, against the treatment George would receive. There was absol
utely no way that Sarah could find £200 in total and, though she appealed to the authorities, and begged them to reconsider, they would not hear of any reduction.

  George Wilson had worked as an overseer in the letter sorting department of the Post Office, but had recently lost that job, again due to his increasingly strange behaviour. As a result, he now stayed at home all day, every day, at their house at 35 Catherine Street.

  Things were no different from usual at 9.00am on Saturday 8 November 1873. George sat in the front parlour of the house, reading a newspaper. Sarah was in the kitchen, preparing her youngest son, ten-year-old Thomas, for school. The eldest boy, William, was naked, in a tin bath, soaking in the hot water. When he was almost ready, Thomas excused himself and went upstairs, briefly. It was when he came back down, as he passed the parlour door, close to the bottom of the stairs, that events took an horrific turn.

  Without a word, George Hannay Wilson put down his newspaper, picked up a small axe, and grabbed hold of Thomas. A brutal blow was inflicted upon the child’s head, and as Thomas fell to the floor, blood pouring from his injury, George knelt over his body, preparing to strike for a second time.

  Sarah screamed at the top of her voice. This not only brought William Wilson to the scene, but also attracted the attention of Sarah’s next door neighbour, James William Oxley.

  James Oxley was about to have a wash himself, when the scream from next door caused him to rush out into the yard at the back of his house. Sarah Wilson was in the yard of number 35, and shouted: ‘Come to my aid Mr Oxley. He has murdered my son.’

  Throwing himself over the fence, between the two properties, James Oxley paused only to pick up a heavy broom as a weapon, before dashing into Sarah’s house. He saw George, lifting the axe above his head, about to strike Thomas again, and a naked William wrestling with his father, and trying to pull him backwards. Oxley grabbed hold of George’s right hand, the one that held the axe, and managed to pull him away from Thomas. George, though, still had hold of Thomas, with his left hand, and as George moved backwards, the boy was pulled along the corridor for a few feet.

  James Oxley, and William Wilson, finally managed to subdue George, drag him back into the parlour and throw him down upon a couch. As James guarded him, William dressed quickly and ran off to fetch the police, and a doctor.

  Dr Slater was at the house within a few minutes. Thomas was very badly injured and Dr Slater ordered that a cab should be called, and the child taken to hospital immediately. Thomas was still bleeding profusely from deep, incised wounds, just above his left temple, and it was clear that he had suffered an underlying fracture of the skull. The injuries proved to be far too severe, and later that morning, at 11.30am, Thomas Wilson died.

  The inquest on the dead child opened at the Lord Nelson public house, on Copenhagen Street, off Caledonian Road, on Monday 10 November. Sarah Wilson confirmed that, in the days since he had lost his job at the Post Office, her husband George had twice tried to commit suicide. As a result, all the razors in the house had been hidden, as Sarah had been fearful that George might harm himself. She had never thought that he might turn his attention towards his children.

  The evidence having been heard by the jury, George was sent to face his trial for murder. That trial took place on 24 November, but there was only one witness. Dr John Rowland Gibson, who was the surgeon at Newgate prison, testified that George Wilson was of unsound mind, and therefore incapable of pleading to the indictment. Found guilty, but insane, George was sentenced to be detained during Her Majesty’s pleasure. Finally, he was to receive the medical help that he so badly needed, but it had all come far too late for his son, Thomas, who had died for the lack of £200, needed to secure his father’s treatment.

  Chapter 18

  William Cole

  1876

  Thomas and Sabina Foy lived at 46 Payne Street, Islington, with their son, Peter. They also, occasionally, let out a room to a lodger. One such lodger was Eliza Stamp and, in June 1876, she moved to a new address, leaving some of her rent unpaid. So, when Eliza returned, on Saturday 10 June, to remove some items she had left behind, the Foys tried to prevent her from doing so. It was then that William Cole, who lived a couple of doors away, decided to intervene.

  Cole told Thomas Foy to leave the woman alone and allow her to take away her own possessions. Foy told Cole that he would be better off minding his own business, and keeping his nose out of other peoples. Hearing that, William Cole offered to fight Foy, but the offer was declined. The matter was not, however, forgotten.

  The following morning, Sunday 11 June, Sabina heard Cole shouting from outside: ‘I have been waiting for you since five o clock.’ Once again, Thomas Foy did not rise to the bait, but at 9.00am, Cole was at his front door with his sleeves rolled up and, seeing Sabrina in her kitchen, called out: ‘You bloody Irish bitch, send out your bloody husband, and what I did not give him last night, I will give him this morning.’ Some time after this, Thomas Foy appeared at his own door, his shirt off, ready to take on Cole.

  The two men met in the middle of Payne Street, but it was Thomas Foy who struck the first blow, landing a punch on Cole’s eye. Cole then grabbed hold of Foy, and the two men wrestled together until they fell to the ground. It was then that Thomas Foy’s head struck the kerbstone, and he received a severe kick in the lower stomach. It was that kick, and the internal injuries it caused, which led to Foy’s death later that same day. Cole was duly charged with manslaughter.

  William Cole’s trial took place on 8 August, and Sabrina Foy told the court about the interference and threats, which she had received from Cole. Her testimony was backed up by her son, Peter, and their lodger, Martha Frewin. All said that it had been Cole who had instigated the fight, and claimed that once they were on the floor together, Cole had kicked out, striking Foy hard in the lower stomach. Other witnesses, though, told a rather different story.

  Robert Shellard lived at 7 Payne Street, and he described the fight as a fair fist-fight. If anything, Cole was at a disadvantage, as Foy was far bigger and stronger. As the two men fell to the floor, Shellard saw Sabrina Foy go forward, and kick Cole hard in his side. Shellard and other men then went to pull the two protagonoists off each other, but it was Foy who tried to pull free and rejoin the fight, at one stage shouting to Cole: ‘Have you had enough?’ Finally, Shellard was able to state that whilst Foy was a known drunkard in the area, Cole was a teetotaller and had a good character.

  Joseph Mitchell lived next door to the Foys, and he was in a good position to hear what passed between Sabrina Foy and William Cole, before the fight started. He heard Sabrina using all sorts of foul and disgusting language against Cole. Mitchell had also seen Sabrina kick out two or three times once her husband was on the ground, and said that those kicks might have been received by either of the two men.

  The final witness was Constable George Horsford, the officer who had taken Cole into custody after Foy had died. On the way to the police station Foy had remarked: ‘We had a fight, but I did not kick. If Foy was kicked, I believe it was intended for me.’ Later, Cole claimed that he had received a kick himself, but he could not say who had inflicted it. What was certain is that he was in no position to kick out and even if he had, he was wearing soft shoes at the time. Horsford ended by confirming that the prisoner was a most industrious, quiet and sober man.

  The jury decided that William Cole had not inflicted the kick that led to Thomas Foy’s death, and returned a verdict that he was innocent of the charge against him. It was, of course, likely that the kick had actually been administered by Sabrina Foy, but there was insufficient evidence to charge her with any offence.

  Chapter 19

  Charles Cornish

  1877

  On Saturday 16 June 1877, William Cornish returned to his home at 498 Liverpool Road, to find his wife in a state of complete hysteria. For some time she was unable to say anything to him, but eventually managed to gasp out that their son, twenty-nine-year-old Charles, had r
un off. William gently asked his wife why Charles had run away, but again she was unable to give him any details. All she could do, was to tell William to go upstairs.

  William, by now an extremely worried man, walked gingerly upstairs and into the bedroom that Charles shared with his wife, Hannah and their daughter, Hannah Louisa. There he found the reason for his wife’s state of acute agitation for there, on the bed, lay the body of ten-year-old Hannah Louisa Cornish, her throat cut deeply from ear to ear.

  William ran to find a policeman and returned to the house, at 11.30pm, with Constable Cohen. He checked the bedroom, which was in the front room on the first floor, and confirmed for himself the terrible scene within. William Cornish was then despatched to fetch a doctor and returned a few minutes later, with Dr George White.

  As Dr White examined the tragic bundle on the bloodstained bed, Charles Cornish entered the room. Constable Cohen demanded to know if Charles had a knife on him and received the one word answer: ‘No.’ Informed that he would be taken to the police station, Charles then asked: What for? I have done nothing.

  Charles Cornish faced his trial on 1 July 1877. The first witness was Constable Cohen, who testified that when Charles first came into the room where his daughter’s body lay, he appeared to be very agitated indeed. He seemed to be unaware that anything was amiss and could see no reason why the police and a doctor were present.

  In addition to telling the court of his wife’s agitation when he returned home on 16 June, William Cornish, the prisoner’s father, said that his son had behaved very erratically of late. Some months before, William had sent Charles to an asylum, where he had stayed for seven weeks, receiving treatment for his mental problems. Upon his release, William had offered a room to Charles, his wife and his daughter, so that he could help supervise him and protect him.