The Dead Witness: A Connoisseur's Collection of Victorian Detective Stories

by Michael Sims

  There remains homicidal mania whose cause is downright cruelty—cruelty that remained unchecked probably in its first manifestations owing to the social position of the offender, as in the case of Louis XI., who, when a child, amused himself by gouging out the eyes of birds with a red hot needle. Half of the pious monarch’s victims, when he had grown to a man’s estate, were victims of his cruelty that had developed into a mania to kill, though vicariously, for their removal from this earth was neither dictated by political nor private vengeance. Historians, and even savants have endeavoured to whitewash Robespierre, Carnier of Natès, and several other actors in the Reign of Terror, by putting forth this plea. In how far this plea is to be admitted is a problem with which only the most competent psychologists can deal. In his “Voyage to the Sources of the Nile” Captain Speke recorded the following incident: Having made a present of a breech-loader to Mtesa, King of Uganda, the latter handed the weapon to an officer, telling him to try its effect on one or more of those who were assembled in the courtyard. The order was strictly executed without exciting the disgust of any of the king’s courtiers. They were not more squeamish than the courtiers of Cambyses, than Prexaspes himself, the latter of whom not only stood tamely by when his son was killed à la William Tell by the Persian monarch “just to show his steadiness of hand” even when drunk, but who paid his master a compliment on his skill; they were less squeamish than the Regent of France. The latter’s son, who became the grandfather of Louis-Philippe, one day, out of mere passion, or perhaps to test the accuracy of his gun, shot a shopkeeper standing at his own door. Philippe d’Orleans pretended to forgive him. “A sudden access of homicidal mania, I suppose. You are irresponsible, but I shall apply the same tenet to the one who happens to kill you.”

  In fact, it becomes difficult in dealing with tyrants and irresponsible monarchs of times gone by to distinguish excessive cruelty, utter indifference to the sacredness of human life, from homicidal mania. The “high rippers” which flourished not so very long ago in Liverpool were perhaps a gang of homicidal maniacs though it would be difficult to imagine Nature to have brought together such an association, all the members of which were moved by the same invincible impulse. The revelations in connection with the late Marylebone murder have, however, given the police a plausible pretext for the theory they contemplated starting. It is difficult to believe in our days that human beings not utterly callous to all feelings would deliberately slay their fellow men without the incentive of gain, without the at least comprehensible pretext of enmity. The police on the spur of the moment nursed the idea of increasing our astonishment. Second thoughts showed them that even homicidal maniacs must be caught, and that the public look to them for the capture. So the theory was dropped. Our astonishment has vanished, may be at the same time, and will only be revived when they effect the capture of the miscreants, whether they be homicidal maniacs, or simply malefactors who levied blackmail [at] the most degraded class of unfortunates.

  The following inquest transcript is from the Daily Telegraph of Monday, September 3, 1888.

  Inquest: Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols

  Day 1, Saturday, September 1, 1888

  On Saturday Mr. Wynne E. Baxter, the coroner for South-East Middlesex, opened an inquiry at the Working Lads’ Institute, Whitechapel-road, into the circumstances attending the death of a woman supposed to be Mary Ann Nichols, who was discovered lying dead on the pavement in Buck’s-row, Baker’s-row, Whitechapel, early on Friday morning. Her throat was cut, and she had other terrible injuries.

  Inspector Helston, who has the case in hand, attended, with other officers, on behalf of the Criminal Investigation Department.

  EDWARD WALKER deposed: I live at 15, Maidwell-street, Albany-road, Camberwell, and have no occupation. I was a smith when I was at work, but I am not now. I have seen the body in the mortuary, and to the best of my belief it is my daughter; but I have not seen her for three years. I recognise her by her general appearance and by a little mark she has had on her forehead since she was a child. She also had either one or two teeth out, the same as the woman I have just seen. My daughter’s name was Mary Ann Nichols, and she had been married twenty-two years. Her husband’s name is William Nichols, and he is alive. He is a machinist. They have been living apart about seven or eight years. I last heard of her before Easter. She was forty-two years of age.

  THE CORONER: How did you see her?

  WITNESS: She wrote to me.

  THE CORONER: Is this letter in her handwriting?

  WITNESS: Yes, that is her writing.

  The letter, which was dated April 17, 1888, was read by the Coroner, and referred to a place which the deceased had gone to at Wandsworth.

  THE CORONER: When did you last see her alive?

  WITNESS: Two years ago last June.

  THE CORONER: Was she then in a good situation?

  WITNESS: I don’t know. I was not on speaking terms with her.

  She had been living with me three or four years previously, but thought she could better herself, so I let her go.

  THE CORONER: What did she do after she left you?

  WITNESS: I don’t know.

  THE CORONER: This letter seems to suggest that she was in a decent situation.

  WITNESS: She had only just gone there.

  THE CORONER: Was she a sober woman?

  WITNESS: Well, at times she drank, and that was why we did not agree.

  THE CORONER: Was she fast?

  WITNESS: No; I never heard of anything of that sort. She used to go with some young women and men that she knew, but I never heard of anything improper.

  THE CORONER: Have you any idea what she has been doing lately?

  WITNESS: I have not the slightest idea.

  THE CORONER: She must have drunk heavily for you to turn her out of doors?

  WITNESS: I never turned her out. She had no need to be like this while I had a home for her.

  THE CORONER: How is it that she and her husband were not living together?

  WITNESS: When she was confined her husband took on with the young woman who came to nurse her, and they parted, he living with the nurse, by whom he has another family.

  THE CORONER: Have you any reasonable doubt that this is your daughter?

  WITNESS: No, I have not. I know nothing about her acquaintances, or what she had been doing for a living. I had no idea she was over here in this part of the town. She has had five children, the eldest being twenty-one years old and the youngest eight or nine years. One of them lives with me, and the other four are with their father.

  THE CORONER: Has she ever lived with anybody since she left her husband?

  WITNESS: I believe she was once stopping with a man in York-street, Walworth. His name was Drew, and he was a smith by trade. He is living there now, I believe. The parish of Lambeth summoned her husband for the keep of the children, but the summons was dismissed, as it was proved that she was then living with another man. I don’t know who that man was.

  THE CORONER: Was she ever in the workhouse?

  WITNESS: Yes, sir; Lambeth Workhouse, in April last, and went from there to a situation at Wandsworth.

  BY THE JURY: The husband resides at Coburg-road, Old Kent-road. I don’t know if he knows of her death.

  CORONER: Is there anything you know of likely to throw any light upon this affair?

  WITNESS: No; I don’t think she had any enemies, she was too good for that.

  JOHN NEIL, police-constable, 97J, said: Yesterday morning I was proceeding down Buck’s-row, Whitechapel, going towards Brady-street. There was not a soul about. I had been round there half an hour previously, and I saw no one then. I was on the right-hand side of the street, when I noticed a figure lying in the street. It was dark at the time, though there was a street lamp shining at the end of the row. I went across and found deceased lying outside a gateway, her head towards the east. The gateway was closed. It was about nine or ten feet high, and led to some stables. There were houses from the gat
eway eastward, and the School Board school occupies the westward. On the opposite side of the road is Essex Wharf. Deceased was lying lengthways along the street, her left hand touching the gate. I examined the body by the aid of my lamp, and noticed blood oozing from a wound in the throat. She was lying on her back, with her clothes disarranged. I felt her arm, which was quite warm from the joints upwards. Her eyes were wide open. Her bonnet was off and lying at her side, close to the left hand. I heard a constable passing Brady-street, so I called him. I did not whistle. I said to him, “Run at once for Dr. Llewellyn,” and, seeing another constable in Baker’s-row, I sent him for the ambulance. The doctor arrived in a very short time. I had, in the meantime, rung the bell at Essex Wharf, and asked if any disturbance had been heard. The reply was “No.” Sergeant Kirby came after, and he knocked. The doctor looked at the woman and then said, “Move her to the mortuary. She is dead, and I will make a further examination of her.” We placed her on the ambulance, and moved her there. Inspector Spratley came to the mortuary, and while taking a description of the deceased turned up her clothes, and found that she was disembowelled. This had not been noticed by any of them before. On the body was found a piece of comb and a bit of looking-glass. No money was found, but an unmarked white handkerchief was found in her pocket.

  THE CORONER: Did you notice any blood where she was found?

  WITNESS: There was a pool of blood just where her neck was lying. It was running from the wound in her neck.

  THE CORONER: Did you hear any noise that night?

  WITNESS: No; I heard nothing. The farthest I had been that night was just through the Whitechapel-road and up Baker’s-row. I was never far away from the spot.

  THE CORONER: Whitechapel-road is busy in the early morning,

  I believe. Could anybody have escaped that way?

  WITNESS: Oh yes, sir. I saw a number of women in the main road going home. At that time any one could have got away.

  THE CORONER: Some one searched the ground, I believe?

  WITNESS: Yes; I examined it while the doctor was being sent for.

  INSPECTOR SPRATLEY: I examined the road, sir, in daylight.

  A JURYMAN (to witness): Did you see a trap in the road at all?

  WITNESS: No.

  A JURYMAN: Knowing that the body was warm, did it not strike you that it might just have been laid there, and that the woman was killed elsewhere?

  WITNESS: I examined the road, but did not see the mark of wheels. The first to arrive on the scene after I had discovered the body were two men who work at a slaughterhouse opposite. They said they knew nothing of the affair, and that they had not heard any screams. I had previously seen the men at work. That would be about a quarter-past three, or half an hour before I found the body.

  HENRY LLEWELLYN, surgeon, said: On Friday morning I was called to Buck’s-row about four o’clock. The constable told me what I was wanted for. On reaching Buck’s-row I found the deceased woman lying flat on her back in the pathway, her legs extended. I found she was dead, and that she had severe injuries to her throat. Her hands and wrists were cold, but the body and lower extremities were warm. I examined her chest and felt the heart. It was dark at the time. I believe she had not been dead more than half-an-hour. I am quite certain that the injuries to her neck were not self-inflicted. There was very little blood round the neck. There were no marks of any struggle or of blood, as if the body had been dragged. I told the police to take her to the mortuary, and I would make another examination. About an hour later I was sent for by the Inspector to see the injuries he had discovered on the body. I went, and saw that the abdomen was cut very extensively. I have this morning made a post-mortem examination of the body. I found it to be that of a female about forty or forty-five years. Five of the teeth are missing, and there is a slight laceration of the tongue. On the right side of the face there is a bruise running along the lower part of the jaw. It might have been caused by a blow with the fist or pressure by the thumb. On the left side of the face there was a circular bruise, which also might have been done by the pressure of the fingers. On the left side of the neck, about an inch below the jaw, there was an incision about four inches long and running from a point immediately below the ear. An inch below on the same side, and commencing about an inch in front of it, was a circular incision terminating at a point about three inches below the right jaw. This incision completely severs all the tissues down to the vertebrae. The large vessels of the neck on both sides were severed. The incision is about eight inches long. These cuts must have been caused with a long-bladed knife, moderately sharp, and used with great violence. No blood at all was found on the breast either of the body or clothes. There were no injuries about the body till just about the lower part of the abdomen. Two or three inches from the left side was a wound running in a jagged manner. It was a very deep wound, and the tissues were cut through. There were several incisions running across the abdomen. On the right side there were also three or four similar cuts running downwards. All these had been caused by a knife, which had been used violently and been used downwards. The wounds were from left to right, and might have been done by a left-handed person. All the injuries had been done by the same instrument.

  The inquiry was adjourned till to-morrow.

  Mark Twain

  (1835–1910)

  Humorist, journalist, novelist, travel writer, public figure, lecturer, suffragist, abolitionist, quotable curmudgeon—and, in his white-suited old age, playmate of the rich and famous—Mark Twain grew during his lifetime into one of the most recognizable figures of American literature. His star hasn’t faded since. Thanks to such publicity boons as actor Hal Holbrook’s long-running oneman show about Twain, the recent publication of Twain’s unfinished autobiography, and a new edition of Huckleberry Finn that controversially tones down the author’s language, his position in the public imagination seems unlikely to fade soon. Twain has his shortcomings; he admitted, for example, that he couldn’t really satirize and tended to attack instead. At his best, however, he was not only amusing and intelligent but a superb stylist, demonstrating constantly his dictum that “the difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—’tis the difference between the lightning-bug and the lightning.”

  Born in the tiny village of Florida, Missouri, in 1835, a few months after his family moved there from a farm in Jamestown, Tennessee, Samuel Clemens was raised in nearby Hannibal. He immortalized the town as St. Petersburg in both Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, and a version of it reappeared in different form in Pudd’nhead Wilson. Over the years Twain rejected most of the small-town Southern ideas of his upbringing. Most notably, in Huckleberry Finn and elsewhere he promoted greater equality between whites and blacks. He became a staunch abolitionist and also a supporter of women’s voting rights and of suffrage in general. “I would like to see that whiplash, the ballot,” he declared in 1901, “in the hands of women.”

  Twain was interested in detective stories but couldn’t resist lampooning their stylized, formulaic ways. Twenty years after their first outing, he brought back Tom and Huck in Tom Sawyer Abroad and Tom Sawyer, Detective, both narrated by Huck. Neither rises to the level of the original novel, but the latter has some amusing mockery of detective fiction. Twain reserved most of his interest in detectives for his novel Pudd’nhead Wilson. After serialization in Century Magazine, beginning in 1893 and concluding the next year, the book appeared in November 1894. The following is an excerpt from the last chapter, “Doom.”

  Twain created several memorable characters quite unlike Huck and Tom. Hank Morgan, the titular Connecticut Yankee, gets hit with a crowbar during a fight and wakes up in King Arthur’s court—starring in a time-travel novel six years ahead of H. G. Wells’s protagonist in The Time Machine. Twain’s last novel, and his own favorite, was a humorless take on Joan of Arc. In Pudd’nhead Wilson he returned to the theme of identical twins that he had used in The Prince and the Pauper to satirize social strata and
notions of fated birth; this time he used the provocative image of identical human beings switched at birth to skewer the assumptions behind racism.

  Twain was preoccupied with twins and other symbols of the divided self; he even wrote a story about Chang and Eng, the original “Siamese” twins (who were actually of Chinese ancestry). He first conceived the story “Those Extraordinary Twins,” featuring Angelo and Luigi Capello, based upon the so-called Italian Twins, Giovanni Batista and Giacomo Tocci, who were conjoined, with two heads on a single body. Only later did these two characters become smaller players in Pudd’nhead Wilson, which is about the racist delusions and self-justifications that helped maintain slavery and a general in e quality among races. The novel opens as lawyer David Wilson moves to the Mississippi River hamlet of Dawson’s Landing, Missouri, in 1830. He is soon nicknamed Pudd’nhead by townspeople who mistake his sense of humor for stupidity. From childhood Wilson has been fascinated by what we would now call fingerprints—and in a dramatic courtroom scene worthy of Perry Mason, Wilson uses his old hobby to unmask the villain. Twain was ahead of his time again. The first legal conviction based upon fingerprint evidence didn’t occur in the real world until 1902.