The Case of the Chocolate Cream Killer

by Jones, Kaye;

  As the day in court drew to a close, the prosecution made its first mention of the case of Sidney Barker, specifically the exoneration of George Ware, the man who supplied the chocolate creams to Maynard’s shop. While the coroner had declared Sidney’s death to be accidental, the investigation into Christiana and her criminal activities had prompted the authorities to open a fresh inquiry into the events of 12 June. Behind the scenes, the police had re-interviewed the witnesses and successfully tracked down two more of Christiana’s errand boys, who had purchased chocolate creams on her behalf around the time of Sidney’s death. The police had also submitted the anonymous letters sent to Sidney’s father to Frederick Netherclift for handwriting analysis. Over the course of Thursday 7 and Friday 8 September, the court heard how Christiana had sent Adam May, William Guy, and George Brooks to Maynard’s shop to purchase chocolate creams. Two of Maynard’s assistants, Kate Page and Annie Meadows, recalled that the creams had been returned to the shop and later sold to Charles Miller, Sidney’s uncle. The court also listened to the testimony of Christiana’s early victims, Benjamin Coultrop and Emily Baker, who had been poisoned with strychnine and positively identified Christiana as the lady responsible. Finally, Frederick Netherclift confirmed that Christiana was the author of the anonymous letters sent to Sidney’s father, Albert.21

  Only one piece of the puzzle remained: what had inspired Christiana to commit such a crime? William Stuckey believed he had the answer and reminded the court of the evidence provided by Emily Beard in which she stated that Christiana had developed an unhealthy obsession with her husband and had tried to poison her back in September 1870. Now, Stuckey called on Dr Beard to confirm his wife’s story and provide further proof of a motive. In his examination, Beard testified that he had received many intimate letters from Christiana but had ceased all contact after the attempt on his wife’s life. This, Stuckey argued, inspired Christiana to commit mass poisoning in order to ‘show the possibility of the sweets being poisoned not by her but by someone else’. During cross-examination, Charles Lamb attempted to show that Christiana’s affections for Dr Beard were not wholly unrequited:

  Charles Lamb: Did you take any means to prevent letters being sent to you?

  Dr Beard: I took no action in the matter to prevent letters being sent.

  Lamb: Can you give any reasons why you did not take those means?

  Beard: No.

  Lamb: Did the prisoner ever give you letters when you were on terms of intimacy with her for you to read when you got home? Did she give you these letters when you were leaving her house?

  Beard: She has done so, but I cannot say how often.22

  Whatever the truth of their relationship, Lamb’s examination of Dr Beard did not detract from the overwhelming evidence against Christiana. With the evidence brought to a close, the magistrates had no doubt that she should face trial for the murder of Sidney Barker and the attempted murder of Emily Beard, Elizabeth Boys and Isaac Garrett. Her friends and family wept at the verdict while Christiana remained ‘perfectly calm and self-possessed’.23

  Outside the court, hundreds of members of the public had assembled, anxious to catch a glimpse of the lady poisoner. The hearing had transformed Christiana into the most infamous person in Brighton, if not in the country. In court, William Stuckey had been asked by Dr James Edmunds, a surgeon from London, to publicly announce that he was not a relation of Christiana’s,24 for fear of a taint by association. All over England, caricatures circulated of her image while stories of her criminal deeds filled the newspapers. Behind the headlines, however, some of her victims struggled under the intense media spotlight. The Beards fled Brighton for a new life in Scotland and Isaac Garrett battled to save his reputation. Julius Schweitzer, the chemist who analysed the chocolate creams on Christiana’s behalf, accused Garrett of being negligent in his sale of poisons and published his criticisms in the Pharmaceutical Journal. The following week Garrett responded with indignation:

  It is a golden rule that a man should not be condemned without evidence, and a fair opportunity of explanation or justification. As regards my shop, its situation, extent, position and arrangement, I cannot believe Mr Schweitzer ignorant and I freely offer to him and my fellow tradesmen, the whole for their inspection, and am content to abide their decision. I really cannot at present see why I am to be made a scapegoat; but if my fellow chemists think me worthy of my townsmen’s contempt, I must bear the infliction with what grace I may. A little poisoned fruit sent to me another time may prove more effectual.25

  As her victims began to put their lives back together, Christiana returned to Lewes Prison and began the two-month wait to face trial at the winter session of the Sussex assizes. In the meantime, she was one of 106 men and women incarcerated at Lewes26 and her charges were among the most serious of any prisoner, past and present. From the time of her arrival, Christiana had received treatment from the prison surgeon for an ailment of a ‘peculiar mental character,’27 possibly resulting from hysteria but certainly not arising from an admission of guilt. During her time at Lewes, Christiana did not confess to the crimes she had committed nor demonstrate any remorse for the hurt she had caused. Whatever the cause of her mental distress, her anxieties centred on physical appearance and the governor granted her some ‘trifling exceptions’ on the recommendation of the prison surgeon. She was allowed to wear her own dresses, instead of the prison-issued uniform, and to wear a bonnet to services in the chapel. In every other respect, however, Christiana did not receive any special treatment and was expected to conform to the prison’s rules and regulations.28

  Like other female prisoners, Christiana occupied a single cell in the women’s section of the prison. The cell contained a hammock, mattress, pillow and blanket for sleeping and some items to keep it clean, including some rags and a dustpan and brush. She was also issued with some personal items, including a soap-tin and a comb, alongside utensils for eating, as all meals were taken inside the cell.29 Under the orders of the governor, Christiana was not allowed to use cutlery unless supervised by a prison officer, as a ‘precaution against any mischief’.30

  Life at Lewes was strictly regulated with the day beginning at 5.30 am. Inside the cell, prisoners received a pail of water for washing and a breakfast of bread and gruel before starting the day’s activities. There was some opportunity for exercise outside in the yard and morning prayers held in the chapel. Prisoners were expected to work during the day and the men, at least, were involved in the laborious task of untwisting lengths of old rope, known as picking oakum.31 There are no records relating to Christiana’s stay in Lewes but it is unlikely that her mental illness precluded her from some type of work. She may have worked in the prison laundry, a common place of employment for female prisoners. Either way, this was the first time that Christiana had ever occupied her day with any form of manual labour; a shock for a lady of independent means. Once the day’s work was complete, prisoners returned to their cell for a final meal of bread and water before the bell rang at 8 pm to signal the time for bed.32

  Outside of the prison, popular feeling against Christiana intensified as her trial date neared. On 5 November, the Lewes Bonfire Society, an organisation with over 1,000 members, burned an effigy of Christiana in the public square. This protest had the support of ‘many gentlemen’ in the district and it was now feared that an unbiased jury could not be found for Christiana’s trial. As a result, an application was made to the Brighton Police Court to have the trial removed to the Central Criminal Court, or Old Bailey, in London.33 This was not the first time that such an application had been made: in fact, Parliament had passed the Central Criminal Court Act in 1856 for this specific purpose. It was inspired by the trial of William Palmer, a surgeon and notorious gambler who stood accused of poisoning his friend, John Parsons Cook, at the Shrewsbury Races in November 1855. Thanks to the Act, Palmer’s trial was removed from his home county of Staffordshire to the Old Bailey where he was found guilty of murder and sentenced to
death on 27 May 1856. Palmer was returned to Staffordshire for his execution by hanging on 14 June.

  When the Sussex assizes met on 22 December 1871, Christiana’s case was the fourth to be heard and four true bills were presented against her: one for murder and three for attempted murder. The Judge, Baron Martin, agreed to remove the trial from Lewes to the Old Bailey and set the date for 8 January 1872. Back at Lewes, the arrangements for Christiana’s departure were made and she travelled by train to London on 28 December 1871. She was incarcerated at the infamous Newgate Prison, adjacent to the Old Bailey, and prepared for the trial which would determine the rest of her life.

  Chapter Ten

  “The Border Land Between Crime and Insanity”

  Newgate Prison was London’s most notorious house of correction, famously described in Moll Flanders as a place of ‘hellish noise’ and ‘nastiness’ that made it feel like an entrance into hell. 1 Opened in the twelfth century, Newgate had housed some of history’s most famous criminals, including the great adventurer and bigamist, Casanova, and the highwayman, Dick Turpin. By the time of Christiana’s arrival, the prison had been destroyed and rebuilt four times over and was in a considerably better state than in previous centuries, having undergone major reforms as well as significant remodelling between 1858 and 1861. These renovations included a complete overhaul of the women’s section of the prison; a separate and self-contained wing to the right of the main entrance and comprising fifty-eight cells over three rows marked B, C, and D; an outside yard, a visiting area and the chapel. There were also two private rooms for prisoners on remand to converse with their solicitor, as they awaited trial at the Old Bailey.

  Untouched by these renovations, Newgate’s main entrance remained a daunting sight, described here by two visitors to the prison in 1862:

  We enter the lodge of Newgate jail by a door, elevated a few steps above the level of the street … flanked by dark huge masses of stone, forming part of the wall, which is about four feet thick. This outer door is only about four feet and a half high, and is covered on top with formidable iron spikes, the open space above being farther fenced with two strong iron bars with transverse iron rods. There is another massive oaken inner door alongside, faced with iron, of enormous strength … This door has a very strong Bramah lock with a big brazen bolt, which gives a peculiarly loud rumbling sound when the key is turned; and at night is secured with strong iron bolts and padlocks, and by an iron chain.2

  Christiana had scarcely passed through this formidable entrance when she demanded an interview with the prison’s authorities to protest her ‘improper treatment’ at Newgate. She claimed that her furs and velvet dresses, brought with her from Lewes, had been confiscated and she was no longer allowed to wear her bonnet to services in the chapel. At the interview, Edmund Jonas, the governor of Newgate, pointed out to Christiana that he could not change prison regulations to ‘suit the conveniences of any person’ and he advised her to conform to the rules. He did, however, assure Christiana that he would do ‘everything consistent with his duty’ to secure her comfort. Christiana also requested that she be attended by the chaplain of Lewes Prison, a man who had shown her ‘great kindness’ during her incarceration in Sussex. This request raised no objections from Newgate’s chaplain, the Reverend Lloyd Jones, but he asked Christiana to consider that it might not be easy for him to leave behind his many responsibilities at Lewes to visit her frequently in London. She, however, could not be appeased: as a lady, she said, it would be impossible for her to submit to these rules and she continued to complain to anyone who would listen, including the Alderman and the Sheriffs of London.3

  After her interview with the governor and the chaplain, Christiana was escorted to her cell where her complaints continued. It was not the cell nor its condition which bothered her but rather the prison’s choice of cellmate: a woman called Eva Pierlo who was on remand pending trial for bigamy. Perhaps if Christiana had listened to Eva’s tale, she might have had more sympathy for the woman who shared her cell. Eva was a native of Hamburg who had moved to London and married Albert Pierlo in December 1870. Albert was a drunk and a gambler who mistreated and physically abused his new wife. He also extorted money from her; taking first a personal allowance of up to 17 shillings per weeks before squandering £80 of her savings on a failed business venture in Hamburg. When the couple returned to London, Albert pawned her best clothing and then disappeared, leaving Eva in a state of personal and financial ruin. Within a few months of Albert’s departure, a man called William White heard Eva’s tale of woe and offered his hand in marriage. Eva accepted his offer and the pair were married in London on 30 August 1871, but, when Albert heard the news, he contacted the police and Eva was arrested and charged with bigamy and taken to Newgate pending trial.4

  That a woman accused of murder would complain about sharing a cell with a bigamist seems hardly believable, but Christiana genuinely felt that Eva Pierlo was a person of low moral character whose company and influence should be avoided at all cost. This irony was not lost on the national press who published every detail of Christiana’s complaints and treatment in Newgate. Journalists universally pitied its governor, Edmund Jonas, and his unenviable task of managing such a high-profile and high-needs prisoner while under the intense glare of the media.5 But Jonas was unfazed by Christiana and her endless demands; he ignored her request for a new cellmate and she was left in her cell, measuring seven feet wide and thirteen feet long,6 to welcome in the New Year of 1872.

  In between the visits to chapel, free time in the yard and general life inside the cell, Christiana prepared for her trial, arguably the most important event of her life. She met with John Humffreys Parry, a barrister specially retained by her mother, who worked on building her defence. Parry was a well-respected and highly-experienced barrister whose career in the civil courts had begun in 1843. After his appointment as serjeant-at-law in 1856, Parry became famed for his ‘admirable appearance, great clearness and simplicity of statement’7 and featured in some of the era’s most sensational cases. In 1849, for example, he defended Marie Manning, a domestic servant who, alongside her husband, was accused of the murder of her lover, Patrick O’Connor. Parry claimed that Manning was not subject to the jurisdiction of the English court because she was a native of Switzerland. The evidence against her, however, was so overwhelming that the judge found her guilty and sentenced the Mannings to death in October 1849. Parry fared better six years later, in 1855, when he defended William Pierce, one of the three men implicated in the Great Bullion Robbery, a crime in which £12,000 of gold bars and coins were stolen during transportation from London to Paris via train. Pierce was a former railway employee who had played a major role in the planning and execution of the robbery but served only two years in prison. His two accomplices were not so fortunate; they were transported to Australia for fourteen years. But the most sensational case of Parry’s career was yet to come. In May 1871, just months before he met Christiana, Parry was involved in the case of Thomas Ernest Boulton and William Park, a transvestite duo known as Fanny and Stella. Parry was retained to defend Park, who alongside Boulton, was accused of conspiring to commit homosexuality. The prosecution collapsed when doctors failed to provide medical evidence of sodomy and the pair were instead charged with indecency, though later found not guilty.

  For Parry, the case of Christiana Edmunds was every bit as serious as the Manning murder and equally as shocking as Fanny and Stella. But the more Parry reviewed the evidence, the more baffled he became by Christiana’s motive. After much deliberation, he concluded that Christiana was insane at the time she committed the poisonings and he used this belief as the basis of her defence. In order to prove insanity, however, Parry had to satisfy the McNaughtan Rules, the most influential and widely-quoted test for criminal insanity. These rules were based on the case of Daniel McNaughtan, a wood turner from Glasgow, who shot and fatally wounded Edward Drummond, the prime minister’s secretary, in 1843. McNaughtan had, in fact, int
ended to the kill the prime minister because he believed himself to be a victim of persecution by the Tory government. He was acquitted on the grounds of insanity and his case established the tests by which a defendant could be properly judged criminally insane. In essence, the rule states that the ‘jurors ought to be told in all cases that every man is to be presumed sane, and to possess a sufficient degree of reason to be responsible for his crimes, until the contrary be proved to their satisfaction’.8 In other words, if Parry was to convince the jury of Christiana’s insanity, he would need to present to the court irrefutable proof of mental illness. If he could not, she would be tried as a sane woman and risked facing the death sentence for her crimes.

  Parry’s next move, then, was to arrange a meeting between Christiana and some of the country’s leading authorities on insanity. In attendance at the meeting were Edmund Jonas, the governor of Newgate and the prison’s surgeon, John Rowland Gibson, alongside William Wood, a physician at St Luke’s Hospital in London; Henry Maudsley, psychiatrist and professor of medical jurisprudence at University College in London, and Charles Lockhart Robertson, the former superintendent of the Sussex County Asylum and the Court of Chancery’s appointed visitor to lunatics. Maudsley and Robertson were also the joint editors of the Journal of Mental Science, known today as the British Journal of Psychiatry, and were well-known and highly-respected figures in the study of madness.

  When the experts sat down with Christiana, on 7 January 1872, they were immediately struck by her ‘absolute indifference’ to her position. William Wood could not ‘impress upon her’ the severity of the charges and quickly came to the conclusion that Christiana could not distinguish between right and wrong. This view was shared by Henry Maudsley, who found Christiana to be lacking in any moral feeling, and by Charles Lockhart Robertson, who regarded her as ‘one of those persons … on the border land between crime and insanity’.9 This was Robertson’s second interview with Christiana and it convinced him completely of her insanity. Later that day, he compiled a short memo in which he summarised his thoughts on Christiana. It was later printed in The Times and offers a rare glimpse into her state of mind: