Part One: Prelude to Mass-Murder
.An Entry in the Metropolitan Police Order Book
for 1865, held at the National Archives, Kew, reads as follows:
THREE
BOYS FOUND DEAD (SUPPOSED MURDERED). – E. Let a Detective Inspector make
enquiry in communication with the Superintendent of Division, and report.
Earlier that Wednesday morning, August 9th,
Elizabeth Maidman, a chambermaid working at the Starr Temperance Hotel and
Coffeehouse, Red Lion Street, Holborn, had discovered the bodies of two young
boys, aged about eight and six years respectively; their ten-year-old brother
was also found dead moments later in a separate room by the landlord, Henry
Clifford. A post-mortem would later reveal that all three had been poisoned.
The youngest child, Superintendent John Searle reported to his superiors, still
clutched a penny in his hand ‘no doubt given to him by his murderer’. In
response Scotland Yard despatched one of its best officers to investigate –
Detective Inspector Richard Tanner, or “Dick Tanner” as friends and colleagues
knew him.
Tanner had found notoriety the previous summer with his investigation
into the England’s first railway murder – the killing of Thomas Briggs. Things
took a dramatic turn when circumstances forced Tanner to pursue his prime
suspect, Franz Muller, across the Atlantic to New York. Now he was faced with
the unidentified bodies of three children. Hotel staff had spoken to him about
the man, believed to be the children’s guardian, who had brought them there,
late on Monday evening (August 7th). Described as being in his
mid-thirties; dark complexion and hair; dark grey eyes; no whiskers, but a
beard of several days growth, and wearing dark clothes, he had left late
yesterday evening promising to return in the morning, but had so far failed to
show.
An Extraordinary Charge
Sixteen months earlier and 134 miles
west of London the village of Great Witley, Worcestershire, found itself at the
epicentre of a scandalous accusation involving a couple called Southey and the
then Earl of Dudley, William Ward, whose country estate lay a mile or so to the
southeast of the village. Before a special convening of the Petty Session the
nobleman stood before his fellow magistrates charged with assaulting Mrs Annie
Southey. She had gone to Witley Court to plead on behalf of her husband
regarding an unpaid gambling debt.
Some fourteen months before that (in February 1863) her husband, Ernest
Walter Southey, had been working as a billiard-marker at Kentfield’s Billiard
Rooms, Manchester Street, Brighton. There he had won £1,172 from Earl Dudley’s
younger brother, the Hon. Humble Dudley Ward. Despite an agreement between the
two men that all debts should be settled at the end of the contest (a condition
proposed by Dudley Ward himself), the younger nobleman found himself unable to
pay. Instead he gave Southey an IOU and a promise that the debt would be
settled the following day. This became the following week, which became next
month, until he refused to pay-up altogether, claiming that it was only ‘a debt
of honour’. The Southey’s were struggling financially. Annie’s ladies' school
in Kemptown, Brighton, was failing, and they had four children to feed. Despite
Ernest Southey’s repeated appeals Dudley Ward remained steadfast. Most of the
time he didn't even reply to Southey’s letters. Then in the summer of 1863
he turned up unannounced at Earl Dudley’s London home in Park Lane. His
lordship heard his case, but refused to pay on the grounds that he had already
paid for his brother’s ‘honourable debts’ so often that he could not be
expected to settle his ‘gambling transaction’ too. Southey persisted and only
left when Earl Dudley threatened to have him forcibly ejected by one of the
servants.
For six months the nobleman heard no more. Then in January 1864 he
received an unannounced visit from Annie Southey at his country estate, Witley
Court (the couple had recently taken lodgings in Worcester). She explained that
the purpose of her visit was her husband’s claim, but his lordship only
repeated his decision. Over the next few weeks the Southeys visited a number of
Earl Dudley’s family and friends, but nothing came of it. On March 12th
Mrs Southey returned to Witley Court to try her luck again. She was initially
shown into the library by the groom of chambers, William Weeks (groom of
chambers was basically a man servant who opened/closed doors and saw that
everything the household members needed was within easy reach). Weeks returned
moments later and announced that his lordship was otherwise engaged and would
not see her. Annie Southey then said that she was feeling ill and wished to see
the housekeeper. Shortly after Weeks left his lordship burst into the room
angrily and announced ‘Well, Mrs Southey, I have already sent for the police at
Worcester to have you watched’. He then seized her by the arm and dragged her
from the library into the hall, repeatedly calling to Weeks as he did so. A
scuffle between them then ensued as Annie Southey was forced towards the front
door. Weeks held the door open and she was flung out. All this was witnessed by
her cabman, Frederick Phillips, who later corroborated what he had seen at the
Petty Sessions. Her injuries were severe enough for her to seek medical attention
from the local doctor.
Earl Dudley’s account, not surprisingly, differs from Annie Southey’s.
He later told the court how after initially refusing to speak to Mrs Southey he
entered the library and said: ‘Mrs Southey, I’ll not permit this intrusion. You
must go!’ She begged to be heard, but his lordship took her by the arm,
‘without violence’, but determined to show her out of the room. She protested
and grabbed him by his whiskers, and they scuffled. As soon as Weeks appeared
on the scene her manner instantly changed. His lordship released her. ‘My
lord,’ she said ladylike, ‘I wish you a very good morning’ and left, only later
to return to apologise for her behaviour.
It’s mostly likely that it was Ernest Southey’s decision to bring
assault charges. The proceedings, which took place on April 2nd,
took five hours. Earl Dudley, himself, cross-examined Mrs Southey and those
summoned as witnesses. Annie Southey had no legal representation, and was
forced to conduct her own defence. There were gasps when the court heard the
shocking revelation that Mrs Annie Southey was in fact Maria Ann White, the
estranged wife of a London schoolmaster. Furthermore she had met Southey on
Brighton seafront in such a distressed state that the billiard-marker believed
she intended to commit suicide. Much was made by Earl Dudley of her being
another man’s wife living in adultery; despite she was able to produce legal
documents of separation. It was also revealed she had once been a prostitute in
Brighton. The fact that she had been forced into this was not mentioned. After
Earl Dudley gave his account of what took place, it took the magistrates less
than ten minutes to dismiss the case. Ernest Southey was furious and threated
to shoot his lordship. The press, on the other hand, were delighted. ‘An
Englishman’s house would in truth cease to be his castle,’ wrote the Worcestershire Chronicle, ‘if he were to
be held guilty of an assault for turning out persons…’ Even newspapers that
were not supporters of Earl Dudley or his views voiced their satisfaction. ‘We
are not ardent supporters of that nobleman,’ wrote the Daily Telegraph, ‘but we really see nothing to blame in the course
of conduct which was so painful to Mr Southey…’. No doubt many believed that the
satisfactory conclusion of the court proceedings that spring day in Great
Witley meant the matter was resolved. For Ernest Southey, however, things were
far from over.
An Inspector Calls
Inspector James Jacob Thomson braced
himself against the damp chill of late December. The 27-year-old, multilingual,
burly detective from Scotland Yard had been sent on a reconnaissance to Putney
at the request of the Commissioner, Sir Richard Mayne. Mayne had received a
note from the Foreign Secretary, Lord John Russell, who had received a missive
from Ernest Southey alluding to information relating to ‘circumstances that
threaten the sacrifice of several human lives’ and also ‘place the life of a
nobleman of high rank in peril’. ‘I do not know that I can do anything with
this letter, but send it to you’ Russell wrote. ‘If Mr Southey insists on
seeing me he may be brought over here.’ Mayne had some misgivings about the
letter’s content. Clearly this man, Southey, was a crackpot, but did he harbour
any dangerous inclinations? DI Thomson was despatched to find out.
At the time Southey and his live-in family were lodging in a small
cottage near the banks of the Thames. It was two days before Christmas 1864
when Thomson came calling. The scene that greeted him was every bit as grim as
anything he would find in a novel by Dickens. As DI Thomson wrote in his
report: ‘…both Southey and White appear to be in direst misery, having neither
food, clothing, money… there is every appearance that these persons suffering
from continued privations and the want of the ordinary necessaries of life, are
now both bordering on insanity’. The detective soon learned, during a
‘prolonged interview’, that Southey did not have any information to impart, but
did have a grievance he wished to air.
The billiard-marker told the detective
of his struggles in life, of hard times and how he had won a vast sum of money
but had been cheated out of it. He also spoke of the circumstance in which he
met Mrs White. Maria White wept as she recounted her treatment at the hands of
Earl Dudley. Since the setback with the Hon. Dudley Ward they had been living
of the charity off friends and family, but even this lifeline was now spent.
They owed seven weeks rent, and had been given notice to quit their cottage by
Christmas Eve.
Southey explained that he had written to the Foreign Secretary hoping to
gain some financial assistance, and to ‘plead his case’. Clearly he had hoped
that Lord Russell would act as intermediary for them with Earl Dudley. Thomson
wrote in his report this chilling prophesy: ‘…should assistance be refused him,
they have resolved to poison themselves and have written a narrative to the
coroner to be read by him at the inquest…’. He concluded: ‘There is no reason
to apprehend that they will cause any harm unless it is to themselves’.
Commissioner Mayne forwarded Thomson’s report to Lord Russell’s office, and
announced his intention to have Southey and White arrested for threatening to
commit suicide – a criminal offence at the time. Consequently, as with Bob
Cratchit in A Christmas Carol, this
Yuletide tale had a happy ending – albeit temporarily. On Christmas Day DI
Thomson returned to Putney to give Southey and White, who had found new
lodgings, one pound – a gift from Lord Russell. Even the threat of arrest went
away after Sir Richard Mayne came to the conclusion that Southey was ‘wholly
undeserving of notice’. After this Southey faded from view.
Ought not to be at Large
On the 18th April 1865, Sir
Richard Mayne received a letter from the Hon. Humble Dudley Ward, currently
living in Paris. ‘Sir,’ it began, ‘I beg to trouble you with the enclosed
letter as I do not consider Mr E.W. Southey is in his right mind, or ought to
be at large’. With the threat of Fenian attacks on the increase, along with all
the usual criminal offences and social disorder the Met. Police had to deal
with; the re-emergence of the troublesome Mr Southey was the last thing Mayne
needed. The letter enclosed was Southey’s latest missive to Ward requesting
payment. Other noblemen also received unwanted correspondence from the
billiard-marker. He even sent a long rambling letter to the editor of Bell’s Life in London and Sporting Chronicle,
and signed it ‘Fair Play’. Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton received a missive that
began: ‘The shooting of a nobleman as an act of natural justice…’ All touched
on Southey being cheated out of his winnings, how ‘circumstance urge me
irresistibly to crime’, and threats that he would shoot his family if his
circumstances didn’t improve. It was clear to all who read them that this was a
dangerous obsessive. Mayne, however, brushed these fears aside, still believing
Southey to be an attention-seeking crackpot.
An Inspector William Moran submitted a report (dated 27th
June) stating that he had seen Southey trying to hand papers to peers entering
the House of Lords. When Moran enquired after Southey’s purpose for being there
the billiard-marker told him that he wished to hand a letter to the Duke of
Richmond. Moran moved him on. Still Mayne failed to act. Even a letter from
Lord Palmerston, then Prime Minister, explaining how Southey had managed to get
into his private chambers didn’t stimulate any action.
Then in early July 1865 Maria White had finally had enough of living in
penury and squalor. Those who saw Southey after her sudden departure stated how
he was distressed and agitated. Perhaps for him this was the last betrayal. The
final example of what he would later state as ‘man’s inhumanity towards his
fellow man’. After this he yet again dropped out of sight, only to resurface a
month later as one of Scotland Yard’s most wanted!
To be continued…
Copyright ©
Marting Charlton, 2013.
