In private, Kenealy advised the Claimant to give up the case and flee the country. But the Claimant would not listen. The jury had enough after 102 days in court. They intervened to say that there was no need for them to hear any further testimony from witnesses. They knew he was Arthur Orton and not Roger Tichborne.
The Claimant was then tried for perjury and found guilty after a trial lasting 188 days. He was found guilty and sentenced to seven years penal servitude for perjury and another seven for forging the Tichborne Bonds, the two terms to run consecutively. The Claimant later wrote that he felt the weight of the world lifted from him.
It was an extraordinary case that was somehow transformed from a despicable deception of a heartbroken old woman into a noble foray in the class war. It revealed many strange quirks of human nature. A glance told any unbiased observer that the Claimant was not Roger Tichborne – he looked nothing like him – yet there were scores of people, with many different motives, who were prepared to say that he was. Another curiosity of the case is that Arthur Orton had a very rare anatomical abnormality. His penis retracted right inside his body when not erect. It transpired, as the evidence was gathered, that he shared this abnormality with the real Roger Tichborne. The odds against that coincidence are enormous and it has made one or two historians wonder whether maybe the Claimant really was Roger Tichborne after all.
After his release from prison in 1884, Orton wrote a detailed confession, but changing his story only clouded the issue. When he died, in poverty, in April 1898, he was buried in a coffin bearing the name Sir Roger Charles Doughty Tichborne.
A Balham Mystery: The Poisoning of Charles Bravo
The poisoning of Charles Bravo was one of the great scandals of the nineteenth century. The world decided, perhaps rightly, perhaps wrongly, that he had been murdered by his wife. The world decided too quickly, though, without looking carefully at all the evidence that was staring it in the face.
Mrs Charles Bravo, born as Florence Campbell, was an unusually attractive young woman, small, pretty, with large widely set blue eyes and a mass of bright chestnut-coloured hair. She was brought up in a supportive and loving home. She had no difficulty in finding suitors, and at the age of nineteen in 1864 she married Captain Ricardo, a wealthy guards officer of twenty-three. But Ricardo’s eligibility as a husband was superficial. He was unfaithful and a heavy drinker. Florence was at an early stage in their marriage subjected to stressful cycles of relapses, apologies, promises of amendment and brief reconciliations. It was completely unexpected and Florence had not been in any way prepared for marriage to be like this. Neither was Florence the sort of young woman to accept it. She was spirited and pleasure-loving.
Florence Ricardo’s way out was drink. Her mother tried to find some diversions for her and persuaded her to go to Malvern with her to try the water treatment. Captain Ricardo was to join them there. The water treatment was fashionable and well-established. It was run by Dr Wilson and Dr Gully. Gully’s patients had included Alfred Tennyson and Thomas Carlyle. Florence had already met Gully and was fascinated by him; Gully in turn showed her profound sympathy and understanding, and was able to give her the support she needed. She fell in love with Dr James Manby Gully, even though he was old enough to be her father.
Ricardo’s behaviour did not change, apart from the cycles of relapse and amendment, and Florence’s parents pressed him to release Florence from what was clearly an unworkable marriage. In 1870, Ricardo agreed to a formal separation, giving her an allowance of £1,200 a year. Ricardo went to live in Cologne with a mistress, and died there suddenly and unexpectedly, without changing the will he had made on marrying Florence. This left her, at twenty-five, a rich widow with an income of £4,000 a year, and it also left her completely free of reliance on her parents. She was completely and exhilaratingly free. She was, curiously, also completely free of friends, which suggests a degree of self-centredness. She might have found friends a stabilizing and moderating influence.
She found herself in Malvern, with Dr Gully. Gully was a very busy man, close to the end of his professional life, with a wife and a son. On the other hand, his wife was in an asylum and he had been separated from her for thirty years – and the son was grown up. Florence was young, beautiful, unattached, determined. She laid siege to old Dr Gully, though in his sixties, and he gave in to her. They began an affair, of which her parents naturally strongly disapproved. Florence’s mother refused to speak to her.
Florence and Gully enjoyed each other’s company, but found that they were unable to enjoy that company in open society and increasingly found themselves isolated. Florence had no real friends anyway, so she employed a housekeeper-companion, Mrs Jane Cox, whom she treated as a friend and social equal. Janie Cox had three sons, and Florence paid her additional sums to maintain them, too.
After returning home from a holiday at the baths at Kissingen in 1872, Florence had a miscarriage. It was one of three miscarriages she was to have, and they may well have been caused by her heavy drinking. Gully attended her in his capacity as a doctor, and Mrs Cox did the nursing. Later, Gully would be suspected of carrying out an abortion. This traumatic experience brought Florence and Mrs Cox even closer together. In 1874, Florence decided to buy a house as a permanent residence. The house she chose was an early nineteenth century villa in Balham called The Priory. A few months later, Dr Gully discreetly bought himself Orwell Lodge, a house a few minutes away in Bedford Hill Road. He naturally had a key to The Priory and let himself in and out without troubling Florence’s parlour-maid. Occasionally, when Mrs Cox was away, he stayed the night at The Priory. Florence was a similarly frequent visitor at Orwell Lodge. The butler there, Pritchard, saw that the two were still very attached to each other, but their existence was mundane and they had begun to quarrel routinely.
The Bravos, who had made friends with Mrs Cox, lived in Kensington. One day, Florence Ricardo dropped Mrs Cox at the Bravos and arranged to collect her later. On her return, she was invited inside to meet the Bravo family and that was her first meeting with the son of the house, Charles Bravo, a good-looking young barrister with an egotistical and aggressive air. They took little notice of one another at that first meeting.
In 1875, Dr Gully went abroad on a trip and Florence was bored. She decided on a trip of her own to Brighton with Mrs Cox. Quite by chance they met Charles Bravo there. On this occasion Florence fell for Charles’s obvious charm. Florence was impulsive and strong-willed, and a romance quickly developed. In November, Charles Bravo proposed to Florence and she accepted. Dr Gully was initially angry. He had given up his practice to be at Florence’s beck and call for five years, only to be cast off. But his anger was brief; he wrote Florence one angry letter, then settled for a quieter life without Florence. He was, after all, sixty-six. The hostility of Charles Bravo’s parents to the match was not so fleeting; they saw Florence as flighty, wilful, worldly and sensual. Charles and Florence were frank with each other about their past lives. Florence told him about her affair with Gully, and Charles told her that he had had a mistress for four years.
The wedding was fixed for 7 December. Florence went into the marriage with her eyes wide open. There were at that time no Married Woman’s Property Acts, so legally all of Florence’s property would become her husband’s. Florence was determined that this should not happen. She had after all been let down by one husband already. She had her solicitor arrange a prenuptial settlement to protect her property rights. Charles reacted very badly to this. Charles tried to compromise, by letting Florence include the income from her first husband in the settlement but excluding the house and furniture, which he would then later be able to claim as his. Florence resisted this. Charles said he would not sit on a chair that was not his own and threatened to break off the marriage.
Florence consulted Gully. He magnanimously agreed to give her advice, and his advice was that she should not jeopardize the marriage for such a matter; he advised her to give in to Bravo. He also returned his do
or key and told Pritchard that under no circumstances were Florence or Mrs Cox to be admitted to Orwell Lodge. As far as Gully was concerned the relationship with Florence Ricardo or Florence Bravo was at an end.
The wedding took place, though old Mrs Bravo could not bring herself to attend. Not long afterwards, the seeds of trouble were sown. Florence did not mind spending money, and Charles was concerned that she was overspending. Did they really need to keep four horses, three gardeners, a butler, a footman, six women servants, a coachman and a groom? Then he questioned whether they really needed to employ Mrs Cox. He worked out that Mrs Cox was costing them £400 a year. Charles had no personal objection to Mrs Cox, in fact they were on very friendly terms, it was just that she was an expense that was hard to justify.
Even so, Florence and Charles were very happy together. The idea that his wife had been having sex with Dr Gully nevertheless increasingly irritated Bravo. Instead of leaving Florence’s past behind, he allowed it to become part of the dynamic of their present love life. Bravo became jealous, cursing Gully as a wretch, and criticizing Florence for her affair with him. Gully meanwhile behaved with perfect propriety, kept well away from the Bravos, to the extent that Charles Bravo never once set eyes on him. Mrs Cox occasionally met him, though, and they exchanged news. Dr Gully mentioned that he knew of a cure for an ailment that was of interest to her, Jamaica fever, and would send a prescription for it to her if she liked. She agreed.
Unfortunately, Charles Bravo regarded opening the letters as one of the duties of the master of the house. When he picked up the mail, he met Mrs Cox and asked if he could open the letter addressed to her – as it was in Dr Gully’s handwriting. Mrs Cox said at the trial she was surprised that he recognized Gully’s handwriting, and also surprised and affronted by his request. As a compromise, she opened the letter herself, in front of Bravo, to show him that it contained nothing more sinister than a prescription. Something lies beneath this odd incident that was not pursued at the trial, and that is the fact that Bravo did recognize Gully’s handwriting. There is an implication that he had intercepted at least one earlier letter from Gully, presumably to his wife. Indeed, we might guess that that is why he had adopted the custom of opening all the mail himself. He wanted to be absolutely sure that his wife’s affair with Dr Gully was over. Perhaps it was not.
Florence had another miscarriage shortly after this. Mrs Cox made it her business to keep Gully up to date with news of Florence when she met him. They had decided that Florence should take a house in Worthing to help Florence’s convalescence. Mrs Cox went to Worthing to scout for one. Meanwhile, Florence went into town with her husband in their carriage. The carriage turned into Bedford Hill Road and when it passed Orwell Lodge Florence instinctively looked towards the house. It was a glance with no meaning, just a glance out of habit. Bravo noticed and asked her savagely, ‘Did you see anybody?’ She said not, and Bravo said something abusive about Gully. Florence told him it was unkind to bring up the past especially when he had promised he would not; he would not like it if she kept taunting him about his mistress. He softened, asked for a kiss, but she refused. Then he said something rather menacing. If she wouldn’t kiss him, she would see what he would do when they got home. Then she did kiss him, but out of fear.
Florence went shopping, then returned to the Priory for lunch on her own, while Charles had lunch with a friend, returning to Balham in the afternoon. He was pleased when Florence gave him some tobacco she had bought for him that morning. He went for a ride and came back later badly shaken. The horse had bolted. Charles had dinner with Florence. It was the first dinner Florence had stayed up for since her miscarriage. Charles complained of stiffness and looked pale. Florence sent the butler upstairs to prepare a mustard bath for Charles.
Dinner was a little late because they had to wait for Mrs Cox. They had whiting, roast lamb and a dish of eggs and anchovies. Charles seemed out of sorts, unwell. Mrs Cox produced a photograph of the house she had chosen, but Charles brushed it aside. The butler noticed that Bravo was not himself, and put it down to the shock of the horse bolting. It is also possible that Bravo was suffering from toothache; he did not mention it that evening, but it was an ongoing problem. He drank three glasses of burgundy. The ladies drank almost two bottles of sherry between them.
At about half past eight, Bravo thought Florence had stayed up late enough. She agreed and went to bed, accompanied by Mrs Cox. Halfway up the stairs she asked Mrs Cox to bring her another glass of sherry. Mrs Cox went down to fetch it, then helped Florence undress because Mary the maid was having her supper.
At half past nine Charles Bravo went upstairs. Mary was on her way up to see Florence at the same moment, and noticed how distraught he looked. Normally Charles was good with the servants, and always had a friendly word for them. This evening he did not speak. He went into his bedroom and Mary went into Florence’s. She was sent straight downstairs again to fetch yet another glass of sherry. She left Florence in bed and Mrs Cox sitting at her bedside, a common scene. Mary asked if anything was needed and Mrs Cox said no, just to take the dogs downstairs. It seemed like a fairly normal end of evening routine. Then, as Mary was taking the dogs along the landing, Bravo appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, obviously in a desperate state, shouting, ‘Florence, Florence! Hot water!’
The maid scurried back to Florence’s room, where Florence herself was in a stupor and Mrs Cox sat day-dreaming, apparently not having heard Bravo’s shout. But she too had consumed an entire bottle of Marsala and was probably quite drunk. The maid got Mrs Cox to rouse herself and they went to attend to Charles Bravo. By this time he was standing at the window, vomiting. Mrs Cox sent Mary down for some hot water. When the girl came back, she saw Bravo on the floor with Mrs Cox rubbing his chest. She told Mary to fetch mustard, as an emetic. As Mary ran off on this errand, she thought it was odd that Mrs Cox had not roused Florence, but Mrs Cox may have been considering the delicate state of Florence’s health; as a convalescent there was not much she could have done to help. Mary nevertheless went in and roused her, managed to make her understand what was happening. Florence put on a dressing gown and rushed to see Charles. Her innocence was evident from her extreme anxiety. Mrs Cox had sent for Dr Harrison of Streatham, but Florence insisted on sending for Dr Moore because he lived much nearer.
When Dr Harrison arrived, Mrs Cox met him, saying that she thought Charles had taken chloroform. She said later that she had not mentioned this idea to Dr Moore because he was a local man and she did not want people in the neighbourhood to know that he might have done that. But neither Moore nor Harrison could detect any trace of chloroform on Bravo’s breath. Following her miscarriage, Florence had been attended by Mr Royes Bell. Dr Harrison sent a note asking him to come and to bring someone else with him. The coachman set off and returned two hours later with Mr Royes Bell and Dr Johnson. Charles Bravo was now being attended by four doctors.
Florence was distraught, and had thrown herself down on the bed beside Charles, and fallen again into an alcoholic stupor; she had drunk something like a bottle and a half of sherry. Dr Harrison roused her and put her back in her own bed. After that Bravo came to and started vomiting again. ‘I took some laudanum for toothache,’ he said. Dr Johnson replied, ‘Laudanum will not account for your symptoms.’ Mrs Cox drew Mr Royes Bell to one side and told him that when she had first gone to Charles he had said, ‘I have taken poison. Don’t tell Florence.’ Royes was astounded that she had kept this vital information back until now. ‘It’s no good sending for a doctor if you don’t tell him what’s the matter,’ he said pithily, and hurried to tell his colleagues the crucial information. Dr Harrison was extremely irritated that Mrs Cox had not told him. Mrs Cox made the situation worse by saying that she had done so. ‘I told you when you arrived,’ she said. But Harrison was not having it. ‘You did nothing of the sort,’ he said angrily. ‘You said he had taken chloroform.’ He was unlikely to have misheard or misunderstood.
The condition
of Charles Bravo did not improve during the night. At five o’clock in the morning, on 19 April, Harrison, Moore and Johnson went home, taking a vomit specimen for analysis. Royes Bell, who was agreed to be in charge of the case, stayed at the Bravos’. During the day, Charles had several bouts of intense pain followed by interludes of exhaustion. At noon, sensing that he was dying, he had a short will made, in which he left everything to Florence. At three o’clock the three doctors gathered again round his bed and pressed again to tell them what he had taken. They knew he must have taken poison. The butler overheard his master say weakly but irritably, ‘Why the devil should I have sent for you if I knew what was the matter with me?’
Charles’s parents arrived from St Leonards, bringing Mr Bravo’s brother-in-law, Dr Henry Smith, who was a surgeon, the surgeon’s sister Miss Bell and their maid Amelia Bushell who had known Charles since childhood. Mrs Cox greeted them at the station with the news that Charles had poisoned himself. They didn’t believe it for a moment. Mr Bravo said emphatically that such a thing was impossible. When they reached the sick room, Charles’s mother asked Florence if she might take over, as she had always looked after Charles when he was ill in the past. Florence was so distracted that she agreed. She even gave up the double bedroom to Charles’s parents and went upstairs to share Mrs Cox’s room.
The next morning Charles Bravo was no better. In desperation, Florence sent Mrs Cox round to Orwell Lodge. She said afterwards that she had always though Dr Gully ‘the cleverest doctor in the world.’ She instinctively turned to him for help. When she arrived at Orwell Lodge, Pritchard understood the gravity of the situation, let her in and put her in the drawing room. When he told Gully that Mrs Cox was there, Gully said, ‘You shouldn’t have let her in,’ but he went to see what the matter was. He suggested mustard plaster and small doses of arsenicum, and Mrs Cox quickly left.
Great Unsolved Crimes Page 19