FDSD Islington

by John Eddleston

  Millie Ganderson, although she was only twelve years old, acted as a nurse and helper to Cornish’s family. She testified that at about 10.00pm on 16 June, the prisoner had come into the living room and asked her where his wife was. Millie told him that she had gone out, whereupon Charles went into the front room, where his daughter slept. Five minutes later, Charles came back out to tell Millie that his daughter was asleep. The suggestion was that in those few minutes, Charles had cut Hannah’s throat, for he left the house again soon afterwards.

  Charles’s wife, Hannah Maria Cornish, stepped into the witness box to give her testimony and immediately fainted. She was carried from the court and did not recover enough to ever tell the court what she knew.

  The last two witnesses were both medical gentlemen. Dr White told of his visit to the house and confirmed that the child’s throat was cut so deeply that the wound had penetrated down to the spine. Later he had examined a somewhat dazed Charles Cornish who again repeated: ‘What have I done?’ He kept on saying that as the examination continued.

  The final witness was Dr J R Gibson, the surgeon from Newgate prison. He said that he had had Cornish under observation since he had arrived at the prison and was of the opinion that he was insane now, and had been in the same condition at the time he took his daughter’s life, and so was not responsible for his actions.

  The jury chose to accept that opinion and returned the verdict that Charles Cornish was guilty of murder, but insane. He was then sentenced to be detained until Her Majesty’s pleasure be made known.

  Chapter 20

  John Lynch

  1877

  In November 1868, John Lynch married Bridget Carmody and soon afterwards the couple moved to Brighton, residing in Russell Street. John carried on his business, as a tailor, and together they had four children over the next few years. Then, on 30 June 1877, tragedy struck the family when the youngest child, also named John, died.

  The death of her new-born son greatly affected Bridget Lynch. She became depressed and grew apart from her husband. He, in his turn, could not believe that the death of a child had driven such a wedge between man and wife and managed to convince himself that Bridget must be having an affair with a man she knew, who worked at the Brighton Aquarium. John Lynch took to drinking rather more than usual and, when he was under the influence of alcohol, he often beat Bridget. This drove them even further apart until eventually, Bridget decided that enough was enough. Taking her three children with her, she left John and moved to London, staying at various addresses, but finally lodging with her uncle and aunt, John and Alice Carmody, in Islington. This move to London only served to convince John Lynch that he had been correct all along. His wife had been having an affair with the man from the aquarium.

  On Monday 30 July 1877, Bridget and her aunt, Alice, decided to go for a walk together. When the two ladies returned to the house, they found John Lynch waiting for them. Lynch seemed to be calm enough and Alice thought it would be a good idea to leave the two in private to talk through their problems. Minutes later, however, Bridget’s eldest child rushed in to announce: ‘Dadda is beating mamma.’

  Alice and John Carmody went to investigate and found Lynch beating his wife. At one stage, as she tried to escape around a bed, Lynch kicked violently at her. John Carmody wasted no time in running to find a police officer.

  Constable George Davenport soon arrived at the house, restrained Lynch, and put him out into the street. The officer then asked the Carmodys if they wished to prefer charges against Lynch, but they agreed that they did not wish there to be any further trouble. Lynch was sent on his way, with a severe warning from Constable Davenport.

  In fact, Lynch did return to the house, some ten minutes later. There were more harsh words exchanged and at one stage Lynch lashed out at John Carmody. The threat of calling the policeman back seemed to have the desired effect, though, and Lynch finally left the house, saying that he wouldn’t bother the family again.

  For the next few days, all was well, but then, on Sunday 5 August, Bridget received a note, delivered by a young boy. The note was from Lynch and seemed to be a contrite apology for his recent behaviour. It went on to ask Bridget to meet him, so that they might go for a peaceful walk and talk through their differences. Bridget wanted to go, but was fearful of further violence, no matter what her husband had written. To calm those fears, Alice Carmody said she would go with Bridget and the two women left the house some time around noon.

  It was around 12.30pm when Bridget and Alice met Lynch in Green Man Road. Lynch was very calm indeed and spoke most pleasantly to his wife. The three then went for a short walk, during which no words of anger were used and no hints of violence made. They walked down Essex Road, into River Street and on into Marquess Road. It all seemed to be going well and then Lynch even invited the two ladies to join him for a drink, in the Marquess Tavern.

  Lynch bought himself an Irish whisky and paid for a lemonade for each of the two ladies. Lynch was still behaving impeccably and, after some hours in the public house, they left and returned to Canonbury Road. To make conversation, Bridget asked her husband if he had anyone waiting for him. He replied that Patsy and Martin, his two brothers, were nearby, and invited Bridget to go with him to meet them. She replied that she didn’t really want to, to which Lynch commented: ‘Come along. Don’t be disagreeable. There will be no row. You will be all right.’

  A somewhat reluctant Bridget met the two brothers further down the road and the entire party then returned to the Marquess Tavern. Still Lynch was on his best behaviour and the couple even discussed renting a room together, somewhere in the West End. Lynch wanted this to happen immediately but Bridget said she would rather wait until the following day, Monday 6 August.

  It was around 7.30pm when Bridget, Alice, Lynch and his two brothers, finally left the Marquess. Everyone still appeared to be on the friendliest of terms, as they walked down Canonbury Road to the junction with Essex Road. It was there, for the first time, that the atmosphere changed somewhat.

  Lynch was still insisting that Bridget should come with him right away. Alice Carmody, concerned at this, suggested that Bridget should come home with her immediately. Finally, after some discussion, Lynch agreed to meet his wife at 10.30am the following morning. He then hailed a Hansom cab but then, rather curiously, asked Bridget to get into the cab with him.

  Even before Bridget could reply, Patrick Lynch, known as Patsy, warned Bridget: ‘Johnny has got a razor in his pocket.’ Lynch immediately denied this and joked that his brother was always telling lies. At that point, Patrick and Martin Lynch both climbed into the cab, leaving Bridget, her husband, and Alice Carmody on the street nearby.

  Bridget, now rather concerned, asked Lynch if he did indeed have a razor in his pocket and if he had meant to use it on her inside the cab. Again Lynch denied that there was any truth in what his brother had said. Bridget then asked if she might take a look for herself and said that she would look in his pocket. She put out her hand, as if to go into Lynch’s pocket and he half-turned from her. Then, in an instant, he drew something from his pocket and there was a flash of light close to Bridget’s neck.

  Immediately blood spurted from Bridget’s throat. She fell into a sitting position on the kerb and managed to cry out: ‘Oh aunt! I am killed.’ Seeing the ever widening pool of blood around her niece, Alice Carmody screamed as loudly as she could.

  That scream was heard by a police officer on duty nearby. By coincidence, that officer was Constable George Davenport, the man who had ejected Lynch from the house a few days previously. By the time he reached the scene of the attack, Bridget had slumped onto her back. Lynch was still standing nearby and, once he was named as the attacker by those nearby, Davenport arrested him.

  Another officer, Constable William Butcher, had also heard the scream and rushed to the corner of Essex Road. He saw that Lynch was being held by Davenport, who did not seem to require any assistance, so Butcher ran to fetch Dr Huggin whose surgery
was nearby, at 29 Canonbury Road. By the time the doctor arrived, Bridget was dead and Lynch was now facing a charge of wilful murder.

  John Lynch’s trial took place on 17 September 1877, before Mr Justice Hawkins. The case for the Crown was led by Mr Poland, assisted by Mr Straight. Lynch was defended by Mr Montagu Williams.

  In addition to the witnesses already mentioned, the prosecution called Dr Samuel Tilcot Huggin, who said he had been called to the corner of Essex Road by Constable Butcher. He timed his arrival there at close to 8.00pm on 5 August. He saw a woman lying on the pavement, a deep gash in her throat. Her larynx was severed and blood was just ceasing to flow from the left carotid artery. She was already dead.

  Emily Newton had been in Essex Road at the time of the attack upon Bridget. She had seen a group of people standing near a cab. Emily was only a few yards away when she saw Bridget go to feel inside Lynch’s pocket. He turned away for the briefest of moments and then seemed to strike Bridget in the throat.

  Inspector John Rowland Jamieson had been the officer in charge of the Islington police station on the day in question. It was some time after 8.00pm when Lynch was brought in. He had been drinking, but was certainly not drunk. He was searched and, in his left-hand coat pocket, Jamieson found an empty razor case. He also found a piece of official looking paper and even as he opened it, Lynch had said: ‘You will find a notice there from my wife. I asked her to settle it, but she would not.’ The paper was a summons to appear in court at the Guildhall, on Wednesday 8 August, for an earlier assault upon Bridget.

  Placed into a cell, Lynch seemed to show no concern over his predicament, immediately going off to sleep. When he awoke, he asked if his wife were dead. Told that she was he cried a little and then said: ‘I hope she is in Heaven.’

  Inspector Jamieson also detailed a comment Lynch had made when he stood before the magistrates at the police court. Turning to look at Bridget’s uncle, John Carmody, he had shouted: ‘You see Jack. I have had my satisfaction. This will teach you to harbour a man’s wife and children. This is all through you. You dirty old wretch. It was you that kept her away from me and I am very glad that she is dead.’

  Patrick Lynch, the prisoner’s brother, told the court that he lived at 4 Upper Rupert Street, in Haymarket. At 10.30am, Lynch had called at his house and shown him a new razor in its case. Martin Lynch had also seen this razor and heard his brother remark that he wanted to send his three children to the workhouse.

  This behaviour seemed to indicate that the entire crime had been premeditated. This appeared to be confirmed by the testimony of the final witness, John Selby Perry. He worked as an assistant at a cutler’s shop owned by Mr Davis. Perry testified that on the morning of Saturday 4 August, Lynch had called into the shop and purchased a new razor for one shilling. That razor had stamped upon it: J.C. Davis, 69 Leadenhall Street, as had the one found at the scene of the crime, proving that it was the one Lynch had used to kill his wife the very next day.

  Found guilty of murder and sentenced to death, twenty-six-year-old John Lynch paid the ultimate penalty on Monday 15 October 1877, when he was hanged at Newgate prison by William Marwood.

  Chapter 21

  Thomas Neal

  1890

  Although Thomas Neal lived with his wife, Theresa, at 81 St Peter Street, in Islington, they had a habit of breakfasting each morning with Theresa’s mother, Esther Elizabeth Gray, who lived close by.

  On Tuesday 28 January 1890, Thomas Neal called at his mother-in-law’s house, as usual, a few minutes after 9.00am. Esther asked where Theresa was and Thomas replied that she would be along directly. First, however, he had a job to do and, as he said that, he picked up a hammer from the fireplace, and left, telling Esther that he would return with Theresa very soon. The hammer, which Thomas had taken with him, as one that he had left it at Esther’s house a few days previously. Esther thought nothing of this and carried on preparing the breakfast.

  Time passed and still there was no sign of Thomas and Theresa so Esther Gray sent her son, Henry, to find out what was delaying them. He returned, a few minutes later, to say that something terrible seemed to have happened, and there was now a large crowd of people outside Theresa’s home in St Peter Street. He then added: ‘Tessie is lying in a pool of blood in the street.’

  Esther went to investigate, for herself and saw, on her arrival at St Peter Street, that a crowd had gathered around a figure, who was lying on the pavement. As she drew closer, Esther saw, to her horror, that the stricken figure was indeed her daughter, Theresa Neal, who had been beaten about the neck and then stabbed in the head. Meanwhile, a police search had been launched for Thomas, who neighbours had seen walking away from the scene. He was eventually arrested, that night, and charged with murdering his wife.

  Thomas Neal’s trial for murder took place at the Old Bailey on 8 March 1890, before the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Coleridge. At the outset it was explained to the court that, whilst the prisoner was sixty-four-years-old, his wife was much younger. They had married in 1883, when she was just eighteen, and he was fifty-seven, and since that date, she had borne him five children. At the time of her death, Theresa was only twenty-five, almost forty years her husband’s junior.

  Eliza Waterman was the landlady of the house at 81 St Peter Street, and lived on the premises. She testified that a man, and his wife came to her house on the Friday before Theresa was attacked, that is, 24 January. They appeared to be a most respectable couple and said they wished to rent the front room on the second floor.

  That same evening, a strange man called and asked for the front door key, explaining that he had taken the front room. Eliza was suspicious and told him that he was not the man she had rented the room to that morning. He explained that he was Thomas Neal and that the man who had called earlier was his brother and had rented the room on his behalf. Eliza was not happy with the situation, but after some argument, she finally handed the key over. Later that night, Theresa arrived and the couple started living together.

  On Monday 29 January, Eliza had seen Theresa for the first time. The new tenant was carrying some furniture downstairs and Eliza demanded to know what was going on. After all, this was not the woman to whom she had rented the room in the first place. Theresa explained to Eliza who she was, and told her that she was married to Thomas. She also confirmed that it had been her sister-in-law, and her husband, who had taken the room on their behalf.

  Turning to the fact that furniture was being moved, Eliza asked Theresa if they were thinking of moving yet again. Theresa replied that they simply had too much furniture in the room and she was going to sell some of it. Eliza had no objection. After all, the furniture did belong to Thomas and Theresa, as they had rented the room unfurnished.

  The next time Eliza had heard anything concerning her new tenants, was at 9.30am on the Tuesday, when she heard a loud screaming coming from the upstairs room. Eliza dashed upstairs to be met by Theresa, who was on her way down, dressed only in her nightdress and bleeding badly from a wound in her face. At this point, Thomas Neal appeared from his room and pushed past the two women, saying: ‘They’ve robbed me enough.’

  When Esther Gray, the dead woman’s mother, gave her testimony, a possible motive for this crime was revealed. Esther began by outlining the events of the morning of Tuesday 28 January, when Thomas called for the hammer and said he would be back soon with Theresa.

  Esther went on to say that the previous October, Thomas had received a sentence of two months’ imprisonment for cutting her head. Apparently they had argued and Thomas had lashed out at Esther, with a stick, causing a wound to her head. During the time that he was incarcerated, Theresa had taken lodgings with a friend of theirs, a man named Harry Day. Whilst Esther did not believe that there had been any intimacy between her daughter and Day, Thomas Neal was sure that there had been. As a result, ever since his release from prison he had behaved differently towards his wife.

  Edward Beesley was another friend of the family and, ever
since Thomas had been sent to prison for assault, he had had care of their three surviving children, two having died in infancy. He also knew Harry Day and had spoken to Thomas about his wife having had to live with Day, whilst he was in jail. At no time had Thomas mentioned to him that he had any suspicions over Theresa’s behaviour, and no intimacy with Day was ever suggested.

  Anne March lived in Parkfield Street and, before they had moved to St Peter Street, the Neals had lodged with her. She testified that she had heard Thomas arguing with his wife about her relationship with Day, and had once accused her of going to see a show at the Britannia Theatre with him. Theresa had denied this, but Thomas was not to be convinced, and swore that he would put a knife right through her if he ever had the proof as to what had taken place.

  Mrs Holloway lived next door to the Neals, at 83 St Peter Street, and she said that she had heard a dreadful screaming coming from next door on the morning of 28 January. She had picked up a poker and hammered on the wall to shut the neighbours up, but this nothing to quieten them. Moments later she heard a woman’s voice shout: ‘Oh, don’t kill me. You know I love you. I love you with all my heart.’

  Police witnesses detailed Thomas Neal’s arrest. Constable Charles Huntley told the court how he had seen Neal in a tobacconist’s shop, on the Balls Pond Road and taken him to the police station for interview. Once he had been charged with his wife’s murder, Neal’s only comment was: ‘Put me in a warm cell.’

  Thomas Neal’s defence was that he had been sorely provoked by his wife, especially over her affair with Harry Day, and though he was responsible for taking her life, this provocation should reduce the charge to one of manslaughter. The jury did not agree and Neal was found guilty. Asked if he had anything to say before the sentence of death was given, Neal replied: ‘I’m sorry I committed the murder, but she was a bad wife to me.’