by Ivor Edwards
Edmund Gurney was born in 1847 at Hersham, near Walton-on-Thames. He went to Blackheath and Cambridge University. He came from a wealthy family (his uncle being a Member of Parliament), and numbered among his friends the American philosopher and psychologist William James and the Philosopher Henry Sidgwick. Gurney originally pursued studies in music eventually writing ‘The Power of Sound’ (1880) in which he attempted to analyse the effect of melody on the individual. He began preparations for a career in medicine but gradually became interested in psychic studies.
The 19th century was one of intensive scientific examination of all natural phenomenon. It was the century of Maxwell and Faraday and Herz, of Pasteur and Koch, of Freud and Darwin and Wallace and Mendel. Much of our knowledge of electromagnetism, of microbes, of the psyche, of evolution and genetics was discovered in the 19th century. It was inevitable that the same cumulative drive for knowledge would turn its attention to the occult as well.
For the 19th century was when mediums like Daniel Douglas Home were important public figures. Seances were treated as serious social events, for in the heavy religiosity of the time was a desire to see if contact with the dead was possible. The scientific spirit of the time dictated the necessity of trying to apply the vigour of testing to all occult phenomenon so that the ‘laws’ (if any) which governed them could be discovered for man’s improvement.
So, in 1882, the Society for Psychical Research was formed by Henry Sidgwick, Frederic Myers and several others. Myers and Sidgwick were both friends of Gurney and invited him to join. He soon became involved in the leading investigation of the new society: proving thought transference. Within a few months of the founding of the society Gurney became very much involved in investigating such phenomena, writing ‘Phantasms of the Living’ with Myers and Frank Podmore and ‘Hallucinations’.
The issue of mental telepathy really became Gurney’s main study in 1885 when he began a series of experiments regarding telepathy and hypnotism, to try to prove that some independent force worked within hypnotic phenomenon. These tests were conducted in Brighton from 1885 to 1888. Gurney was assisted on them by his private secretary, George Albert Smith, a former hypnotist. In June 1888 Smith was on his honeymoon.
On Thursday, 21 June 1888, Gurney received a letter (the contents of which remain unknown as the letter has never been accounted for). He was in London, and after dinner with a friend, he left London for Brighton, checking into a room at the Royal Albion Hotel on 22 June 1888. It was the first time he ever used the hotel. After dining alone he asked a waiter for a glass of water and went upstairs to bed at 10.00pm. When he failed to respond to knocking by 2.00pm the following day, the door was broken open. He was found in bed with a sponge saturated with chloroform on his face. A small bottle of some liquid was found next to him.
The official coroner’s report is no longer in existence but from newspaper accounts we know what the official verdict was on the death of Gurney. He suffered from sleeplessness and neuralgia and frequently used chloroform or chloral to sleep. As he was alone this was a very dangerous thing to do as he might fall asleep with the rag or sponge on his face thus ensuring his death. The official view was death by misadventure. And so the official verdict of the coroner’s court has remained accepted by most people. But was it correct?
Death by misadventure is a possibility. However, in 1888 chloroform had a sullied reputation in England. Two years earlier there had occurred the trial of Adelaide Bartlett for the murder of her husband, Edwin, by chloroform. With the assistance of a lover, who may or may not have known what the purpose of the drug was, the liquid chloroform was procured and ended up inside Mr Bartlett’s stomach.
Due to several flaws in the prosecution’s case (including the problem of anyone being forced to silently drink chloroform – it burns terribly), Mrs Bartlett was acquitted. One of the possible reasons the jury found in her favour was that Edwin Bartlett had supposedly spoken of his death on several occasions, suggesting a morbid, even suicidal, state of mind.
So, if not an accident, then what? Suicide perhaps? This was the theory of Trevor Hall in his book, The Strange Case of Edmund Gurney. Hall was concerned with those special, long series of tests that Gurney worked on for three years. With the assistance of his secretary, George Smith, Gurney hypnotised various working-class boys to perform a wide variety of different tests that would prove mental telepathy.
The results were used in many volumes of ‘findings’ that Gurney published with the Proceedings of the Society of Psychical Research, and had been (more than The Power of Sound or a recent volume of essays, Tertium Quid) the basis for Gurney’s growing name and reputation. He was widely admired for the thoroughness and care of his experiments and seemed to be giving a respectable basis for psychic phenomenon. But, according to Hall, this was about to collapse in utter ruin.
George Smith had been a professional entertainer before he worked with Gurney. Hall showed that Smith, seeking to please both Gurney and the S.P.R., had fixed the experiments. As had been shown many times in our century by magicians like Harry Houdini or James Randi, frequently even the best minds are fooled by magicians especially when they are expecting to see certain results.
The key to this theory is that unknown letter Gurney received before he left London. Hall believes that while Smith was on his honeymoon Gurney found proof of the tampering while working at Smith’s desk. The letter may have been from Smith’s sister, Alice, verifying the truth. The collapse of his hard work, his reputation and the (perceived) probable collapse of the S.P.R. caused Gurney to kill himself.
Hall’s view has been criticised by Gordon Eppeson in The Mind of Edmund Gurney. Eppeson points out that far from being suicidal or depressed on the day of his death, Gurney was cheerful and in good spirits. He was not known to be given to despair or self-pity. By temperament he was a fighter and would have continued to try to do his work (which Eppeson does not dismiss as Hall does).
Finally, Eppeson feels that Hall’s conclusions are based too much on supposition and guesswork and lack a clear understanding of the subject’s personality. Eppeson feels the coroner was right – death by tragic overdose, due to misadventure.
So accident or suicide? Well, what about a third possibility, which always lurks around the corner in mysterious deaths? Could Edmund Gurney have been murdered?
Murder is one possibility according to Mr Ivor Edwards. This theory has nothing to do with George Smith and the telepathy studies. It has to do with other matters at the S.P.R. which were occupying its leadership (such as Gurney) and some shadowy figures. One, Helena Blavatsky, is still remembered as a founder of the cult of Theosophy – still going strong at the end of the 20th century. The other, Dr Robert Donston Stephenson, is a far more sinister figure than Madam Blavatsky, and if the supposition about him is true he may be the most sinister figure of the 19th century.
Helena Blavatsky was born in 1831 in Ekatinoslav Russia. Her family was in the minor nobility. She married an elderly official in 1848 but deserted him after a few months. For the next 20 years she claimed to have travelled widely around the globe, including trips to India and two attempts to reach Tibet. Beginning in 1858, again in Russia, she became a medium.
Eventually, she went to the United States where she lived from 1870. While there she studied occult and kabbalah, as well as Hindu and Buddhist scripture. She eventually amalgamated many of the occult and spiritual notions, including the belief in Tibetan sages (mahatmas) who were guides through their ‘astral bodies’ to her giving her messages. They also told her to perform tricks to convince sceptics.
Initially, Blavatsky was working with a lawyer and occultist named Col. Henry Olcott, with whom she founded the Theosophical Society in 1875, to discover the laws of the universe and to enable mankind to used their latent powers. She and Olcott went to India, where Theosophy actually began, to get some ground support. Blavatksy encouraged a universal following; a mingling of all races. This was unusual in the 1870s.
Although the authorities were appalled that Blavatsky, a fat, foul-mouthed woman, was the group’s spokesperson, the group prospered. It is interesting to note that Blavatsky was an avid follower of Lord Lytton. It was due in part to his work that she eventually became such a public figure.
In 1884, Helena Blavatsky returned to Europe to spread her message. However, two of her followers spread stories of her less attractive and more questionable activities. The S.P.R. sent Richard Hodgson to India to double-check the stories. His final report, in 1885, labelled Blavatsky one of the most successful impostors in history.
To save Theosophy, the followers convinced Blavatsky to step aside and allow Olcott to take over the movement. She was exhausted and agreed. She soon recovered her health and formed a new Theosophical group in England. Her success was ensured by the support of Annie Besant, a leading social reformer of the period and Blavatsky’s greatest convert. Madam Blavatsky died in 1891.
During her career, Blavatsky managed to meet Dr Robert Donston Stephenson. Born in Hull in 1841, Stephenson had a questionable career. He had served with Garibaldi’s forces in the 1860s but returned to England and a job in Hull in the civil service. He lost this job when a misadventure with a prostitute revealed he had lied to his superiors.
All through his life, Stephenson would skirt the edge of the criminal world. If he ever did enter it, he was careful to cover his own tracks. His wife disappeared about 1887 and no explanation as to her fate ever was made … least of all by her husband. He may have been involved in several deaths.
Stephenson made several trips abroad to study the occult in West Africa and India. He may have murdered a female witch doctor in West Africa (he certainly boasted of this and the death of a Chinese man, but in that age of Imperialism few English people would have cared). He was deeply interested in the Egyptian occult and this brought him into the orbit of Blavatsky, who had many Egyptian occult ideas in her philosophy.
In June 1888, Stephenson was staying at The Cricketers Inn, Brighton. He was putting together several plans for future activities. He was planning to check himself into the London Hospital, in the East End of London. A very fine hospital of the day, Stephenson was planning to study its scheduling, to note when it was possible to leave and re-enter without being noticed. For he had plans, deep and dark ones. But first, there were other matters. Blavatsky, was still being annoyed by the S.P.R., not so much her former enemy, Mr Hodgson, but the chief correspondence secretary, Mr Edmund Gurney. And Mr Gurney was coming to Brighton.
Within a few months of Gurney’s death a series of horrible murders of prostitutes occurred in the East End of London. Jack the Ripper seemed able to come and go in the area without any problems. Everyone was suspected that summer and autumn of 1888. Once the police were even looking for a patient from a London Hospital who fitted Stephenson’s working background.
Edmund Gurney arrived at Brighton’s Royal Albion Hotel on Friday, 22 June 1888 and was found dead the next morning. The inquest was held on Monday, 25 July 1888. The next day Dr Robert Donston Stephenson left Brighton for London and infamy.
Misconceptions About D’Onston
Critics of D’Onston who place their own suspects in preference have made the point that the Whitechapel murders were more likely to have been committed by a younger and fitter man than D’Onston. Also, he has been referred to as a drunk. Besides if he was a drunk (which he was not) then that would not exclude him from having the ability to murder the prostitutes. Thousands of murders have been committed by those who were drunk at the time.
I would like to address the question of how old and fit a killer needs to be. Jack’s victims were not strapping 6ft dockworkers. They were prostitutes who were, in the main, middle-aged, of small stature, one of which was undernourished and weak (and, in fact, dying). Jack was preying on weak and vulnerable targets.
A killer who uses the element of surprise on his victim has the advantage. In fact, many strong and fit people have been murdered by a weaker adversary. John Wayne Gacy was not fit; he was middle-aged, fat, drank a lot and smoked pot. He also took amyl nitrate and valium, yet his victims were boys and fit young men aged 17, 18 and 19. Gacy’s victims are estimated to number at least 33. Four of the five Ripper victims were in the same age bracket as D’Onston.
Cremers met D’Onston after the murders had occurred and described him as ‘a man with military bearing suggesting power and strength. Tall with not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon him’. Cremers never made mention of any connection in relation to D’Onston and drink in her memoirs. Marsh, who drank in the company of D’Onston, described him as a soaker and not a drunk.
Stead knew D’Onston very well before the murders were committed and never made one known comment in relation to D’Onston and drink. Even so, many murders have been committed by people in a drunken state. I met one middle-aged killer who had arrived home with his wife late at night after celebrating their wedding anniversary. He was the worse for drink.
In the bedroom his wife made a fatal mistake. She told him that she was leaving him. He went into the bathroom, which was undergoing renovation work, and picked up a hammer. He went back into the bedroom and beat his wife to death. Aileen Wuornos was a prostitute who killed seven of her male clients.
To state that D’Onston was not capable of committing the murders because of age, drink or a feigned illness would be to underestimate the situation. Even if he had neurosthenia (not to be confused with neurasthenia, its opposite) he could still commit murder. The Mammoth Book of Jack the Ripper edited by Maxim Jakubowski and Nathan Braund implies in the suspect section that D’Onston recounted that he had once held a commission in the British Army. This is quite untrue.
The conclusion is also drawn that physically D’Onston does not match the descriptions of Schwartz, Hutchinson or PC Long. Schwartz saw two men and as already stated the man seen to attack Stride did not kill her. The description of the other man seen in the doorway does fit with D’Onston in relation to height, hair colour and clothing. There is no evidence to suggest that the man seen by Hutchinson was Jack the Ripper; he could have been a client. As for PC Long he never saw any suspect! He was the policeman who found the graffito and piece of apron at Goulston Street.
More errors found in the book include that the sudden cessation of the murders was supposedly due to D’Onston’s conversion, not least because he continued to lecture on the occult for years after and also enjoyed tormenting the likes of Cremers and Collins with hints which do not speak of remorse or of the sort of mental anguish which must have afflicted any such convert.
Such comments are wholly unfounded and far from the truth. D’Onston only planned five murders and with the demise of Kelly they stopped in November 1888. They certainly did not stop due to any conversion for he was not converted until 1893. Also, his association with Cremers and Collins came to an end in 1891. Furthermore there is no evidence to show that he continued to lecture on the occult years after the murders. As far as I am aware only three people have researched D’Onston in great depth for any number of years and these are Bernard O’Donnell (deceased), Melvin Harris and myself.
Yet untrue statements continue to be peddled by those who either rely on the faulty stories of others or do not research D’Onston or the subject matter as correctly as they should. I have yet to see one valid point or one piece of good evidence which seriously places doubt on D’Onston being the killer.
APPENDICES
APPENDIX 1
D’Onston’s Chronology and Official Records
1841: Born: Robert D’Onston Stephenson, 20 April, Sculcoates, Hull. Lives at Willow House, 60, Church Street. Mother’s maiden name Dauber. Parents wealthy mill owners.
1859: Visits Paris where he meets Lord Lytton’s son, who then introduces him to Lord Lytton.
1860: D’Onston’s initiation into the Lodge of Alexandria is performed by Sir Bulwer Lytton.
1860: Lives in Islington with a friend.
1860–63
: Fights with Garibaldi in Italy.
1863: Goes to the West Coast of Africa to study witchcraft. He murders a woman witch doctor while there and writes of the deed later.
March 1863: Takes a post at the Customs House in Hull.
1867: His father is a prominent manufacturer and holds the elected post of collector of Hull Corporation Dues. His brother, Richard, is a ship owner, partner in the firm of Rayner, Stephenson and Co., Vice-Consul for Uruguay and a Hull City councillor.
July 1868: Shot in the thigh by Thomas Piles under suspicious circumstances. Sacked from Customs because of his association with prostitutes, which led to him contracting VD.
1869: Living in London.
14 February1876: Marries Anne Deary, his mother’s serving girl, at St James Church, Holloway. Married under the name of Roslyn D’Onston Stephenson.
1878: Goes to India to study magic. It was at this time that Bulwer Lytton’s son, Edward, was the Viceroy of India.
1881: On the 1881 Census is living at 10, Hollingsworth Street North with his wife, Annie. The Census states he is an MD, not practising but is a scientific writer for the London press. Age is given as 39, his wife’s, 37.
1886: Vittoria Cremers comes across a copy of Light on the Path by Mabel Collins in a New York bookshop.
July1886: D’Onston applies for the position of Secretaryship of the Metropolitan and City Police Orphanage. Is not short-listed.