Showing posts with label scandal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scandal. Show all posts

20 June 2023

Murder in Mind

During a visit to Liverpool, a financially insecure pottery manufacturer, Theophilus Smith of Tunstall, asked one of his creditors, a merchant named Peter Wainwright, to return to the Potteries with him for a meeting. Very early in the morning of 21 June 1800, after travelling most of the way back to Tunstall, Smith stopped their carriage near to his home Smithfield Hall and said to Mr Wainwright that they should proceed the remaining short distance across the fields on foot. The two men were seemingly on good terms and had enjoyed a pleasant ride despite the distance, but as they crossed the field in the half-light before dawn, suddenly and without warning Smith drew a gun from his pocket. Thinking that the desperate potter was about to shoot himself, Wainwright pounced on the man, wrestled the gun out of his hand and threw it away. The crisis seemed to be over, but moments later as they continued their walk, Smith drew another pistol and fired at Mr Wainwright, but missed. The two men fought and Smith was thrown to the ground and begged forgiveness of his would-be victim. Evidently stunned by events, Wainwright relented and even let Smith get up and go to collect a coat he had left behind after leaving the coach, never thinking that Smith may have another pistol hidden there which he produced as they neared his home and shot Wainwright through the body just below the stomach. Though badly wounded Peter Wainwright again fought back, but Smith then drew a knife and the merchant received numerous cuts to his hands and jawline before he finally threw his attacker off. Smith then retreated to his house, leaving the badly injured man to stagger several hundred yards to a neighbouring cottage for help. Doctors were called who at first despaired of his wounds, but against the odds Mr Wainwright survived, though he spent several weeks recovering from his ordeal. 
Smithfield Hall c. 1794. Detail of an engraving by W. C. Wilson after an illustration by E. Dayes.
The field in the foreground may be where Theophilus Smith attacked Peter Wainwright.
(Author's collection)


The alarm was immediately raised and constables raced to Smithfield Hall to arrest Theophilus Smith, but he had already fled his home and 50 guineas were offered for his capture. This was achieved a little time later in London where Smith was arrested in his lodgings by the Bow Street Runners. Sent for trial at Stafford Smith was sentenced to hang, but he cheated the hangman when on New Years Day 1801, whilst in the hospital at Stafford Gaol and having by some means got his hands on a couple of pistols, he shot and wounded his wife who was visiting him, then shot himself through the head, dying instantly. Fortunately Theophilus Smith was the only fatality of his two murderous assaults as like Mr Wainwright, Smith's wife survived the attack. 
It has been suggested that this final act and Smith's earlier attack on Mr Wainwright were because he suspected that Wainwright and his wife were lovers, though there seems to be no clear evidence to support this. 
Reference: Staffordshire Advertiser, 12 July 1800, p.3; 19 July 1800, p.4; 2 August 1800, p.3; 3 January 1801, p.4; The Annual Register 1800, Vol. 42.

27 February 2018

Death of a Lady Artist

Image reproduced with kind permission of The British
Newspaper Archive (www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk)
Late in the evening of 18 January 1899, Mr Richard Smith of Stoke was walking along Bagnall Street, Hanley alongside the Victoria Hall, when he was startled by the sound of a gunshot nearby. There was no one else in sight, but he noticed that across the road, a door beside a small medical dispensary was standing part-way open. Peeking carefully through the opening into a dark passageway beyond he spotted a body lying on the floor a pistol in its hand. Alarmed, he dashed to the police office around the corner in the Town Hall and returned moments later accompanied by an inspector and several policemen. When they reached the passage they found 51 year old Dr John Craig who ran the dispensary examining the body of a woman who had clearly shot herself in the head. They could make out little more in the dark, but when the doctor announced that the woman was still breathing the police brought a stretcher and together they carried her across to the police parade room. Hardly had they got into the well-lit yard, though than Dr Craig let out a cry having recognised the woman before him. The man was visibly shocked and while a senior officer took him aside for questioning the police searched the injured woman for clues to her identity.
Going through her pockets they found numerous items: some money, a few keys, a packet of arnica, a left luggage receipt from Stoke Station and several newspaper clippings, one of which carried a few lines from Tennyson’s poem, Sea Dreams.
‘……. he that wrongs his friend
Wrongs himself more, and ever bears about
A silent court of justice in his breast,’

There were also receipts for recorded letters and a cryptic inscription on a visiting card that indicated a strong connection with Dr Craig. These along with the doctor’s own faltering statement soon identified the woman as Catherine Devine, a 43 year old artist from Chelsea. The doctor explained how he knew her and what he believed had just happened here and why. The lady herself, though, did not live to give an account of her actions, dying from her wound at 10 p.m., without regaining consciousness.

Present-day Bagnall Street, Hanley.









The full story of the connection between Catherine Devine and Dr John Craig came to light two days later in front of a packed court at the coroner’s inquest into her death. Here, Dr Craig revealed that he and Catherine had known one another for about 25 years, having first met in her home city of Edinburgh. It was there that John Craig had trained as a doctor, being licensed in 1869 and shortly afterwards he had married Ellen Macintyre a native of the Potteries, before moving to the area and setting up his practice in Hanley. His wife had given him a son and daughter, but in December 1874 she died at the age of 25, leaving him a widower with two young children on his hands.

Among his late wife's friends were Eliza and Catherine Devine of Edinburgh, daughters of a well-known and wealthy family of Scottish artists. Eliza had agreed to paint a posthumous portrait of Mrs Craig and whilst visiting their studio in 1876 to see how work progressed, Dr Craig had met and become so smitten with the younger sister Catherine, that he had been contemplating asking her to marry him. They corresponded for a time, but his marriage hopes had faded a short time later, when Catherine and several members of her family emigrated to New Zealand in 1878. Robbed of his potential bride the doctor had little choice but to get on with his life as a single parent and as the years passed he became very content with this state of affairs.

Catherine remained in New Zealand and later Australia for eleven years, carving out a moderately successful career as an artist, but in 1889 she returned to Britain. Settling in a studio flat in Glebe Street, Chelsea, her skills soon saw her supplying artwork for several London fashion magazines and eventually holding an exhibition of her works. To this she invited several old friends including Dr Craig. This restarted their acquaintance and they corresponded intermittently for a few years until Catherine was invited to spend Christmas with the Craigs at their house at Mossley near Congleton. During this visit, Dr Craig innocently noted to Catherine in conversation that prior to her departure to New Zealand he had contemplated asking her to marry him, and was surprised when she immediately asked him why he could not ask her now? The doctor replied that time had altered his circumstances, that he was content and he now had no thought of marrying anyone. Catherine seemed to accept that at the time, but the remark had struck a chord with this brilliant but lonely woman and she soon started to obsess over the matter.
Apparently oblivious to what he had started, Dr Craig extended another invitation for Catherine to stay once again a few months after this, but she soon upset the situation by again urging Dr Craig to marry her. He again refused and the next morning, whilst he was out, Catherine left the house under a cloud. Returning to find her gone, Dr Craig was left feeling very angry at her behaviour and that might have been the end of the matter, but a few months later he received a conciliatory letter from Catherine and he agreed to meet with her at her home in London when he visited the capital for Queen Victoria’s Jubilee in 1897. After watching the festivities he did indeed call on Catherine, prepared to let bygones be bygones, but when she again raised the subject of marriage he left in disgust and vowed never to visit her again.

Catherine then began to bombard Dr Craig with a series of scathing letters on his conduct that were followed more often than not by apologetic letters or telegrams asking him to reply. The doctor did reply to some to try and calm her down, especially when she began to threaten to kill herself. However, staggered by the barrage of letters he began to receive and the increasingly erratic mood swings of his would-be paramour, Dr Craig started to burn many of the letters unopened.

This state of affairs had carried on for the best part of a year, during which time Dr Craig had attempted to maintain his distance from Catherine. The death of her mother, though, in October 1898, seems to have made him sympathetically disposed towards her once more and shortly afterwards he met her again during a visit to London. He found her in a miserable state and recalled that she was in tears most of the time. Her one consolation was that she now wrung a promise from the doctor that if he would not marry her then he would marry no one else, an assurance he was happy to give. She also asked if she might be invited for Christmas once more if she avoided the question of marriage. Dr Craig told her that he and his daughter were in the process of moving into a house in Hanley adjoining his practice and would anyhow be in Northumberland visiting his mother over Christmas. He promised her, though, that once they had moved in after New Year, that she would be invited for a visit. Satisfied with this, Catherine parted amicably with Dr Craig and eagerly waited for the invitation to arrive.

Sure enough a few weeks later a letter did come, but the news it contained flung Catherine back into a rage. Dr Craig wrote to her saying that due to the work needed on the new house and because his daughter would be going abroad for a while, he did not feel that he could accommodate Catherine before his daughter’s return in March; in effect, for the time being at least, she couldn’t come. Stung by what seemed like another heartless rejection, Catherine wrote a furious reply saying that he had deceived her, adding ominously that she could not go on like this. It was a threat she had voiced before, but this time after all of the mental agonies she had suffered over the past year, it seems that Catherine had finally snapped. In the notes discovered after her death it appears that she wrote more letters to Dr Craig, but, as before, finding himself pestered beyond belief, the doctor had once again begun to burn the letters unopened. He was thus completely unaware of what she now set out to do.

Nor would he be the only one, as to most of her London friends the story of Catherine’s violent passion for Dr Craig would come as a great surprise, as she had displayed no outward signs of any great interest in men except as friends. All noted that she had been ill over the past year, stricken by a listlessness that her own physician, Dr Schorstein, put down to anaemia, but otherwise she seemed to be the same kindly, mild-mannered woman she had always been. As a result, none of them were aware – or could even have guessed – that Catherine spent early January 1899 preparing for her death, finishing a portrait of her doctor and wrapping up her affairs.

On the morning of 18 January, Catherine paid a visit to her housekeeper, Mrs Stoner, who had injured her wrist several days before and she now made sure that the elderly lady had everything she needed. Catherine told her that she would be going to Staffordshire for a few days, joking that it would give Mrs Stoner a rest from her. Back in her flat, Catherine left a package with a letter in her writing desk laying the blame for what she was about to do squarely on Dr Craig. Then she dressed well, putting on a fashionable lady’s walking-out costume, collected a nightdress she had wrapped up in brown paper (the police speculated that she brought the nightdress with her to be used as her shroud), a travelling rug, an umbrella and her purse containing money and a few notes to give the police enough clues to discover her story. She also pocketed the small, silver five-shot revolver that she kept for personal protection. Catherine then sent for a cab to Euston Station to catch the 4 p.m. train to Stoke. As she left, Catherine waved goodbye to her housekeeper and that was the last time that anyone who knew her saw her alive and conscious; it thus became the job of the police to reconstruct her last hours for the benefit of the inquest.

After a three hour journey north, the train arrived at Stoke Station at 7.14 p.m., and it appears that, after depositing most of her belongings at the left luggage office, Catherine had walked from Stoke into Hanley. Never having visited Dr Craig’s new house in Bagnall Street, she seems to have taken the better part of an hour locating it. Once she had, though, Catherine went into the gated entry where she removed her right glove to give her a better grip and taking out the pistol she placed the barrel against her right temple and pulled the trigger, inflicting the fatal wound.

Because of Catherine’s accusations against him, Dr John Craig found himself being closely questioned at the coroner’s inquest in an effort to determine if he was in any way morally responsible for what had taken place. Indeed, the doctor feared so much for his reputation that he had employed a solicitor to sit in on the inquest to represent his interests in the proceedings. However, the coroner was satisfied with the explanation that Dr Craig had given to the inquest; nor did the police see any reason to pursue the matter any further. The jury thought likewise and quickly returned the verdict that Catherine Devine had committed suicide whilst of unsound mind.

The final act in this tragic tale of missed opportunities and fatal obsession took place the day after the inquest, on Saturday 20 January, when the remains of Catherine Devine were interred at Hanley Municipal Cemetery. To avoid undue attention, the funeral took place a day earlier than advertised and the funeral cortège took a circuitous route to the cemetery for the same reason. Two of Catherine’s London friends, Miss Maud McCarthy and Dr Schorstein, who had appeared at the inquest, were the only mourners and not more than a dozen people stood around the grave in the pouring rain as the last rites were performed. As this was a suicide’s burial, there would be no headstone to mark her lonely plot, while the brass plate on the polished oak coffin bore only the simplest inscription.

Catherine Devine
Died Jan. 18 1899,
Aged 43 years.


Reference: Staffordshire Sentinel 19 - 23 January 1899. Numerous national and international papers January - March 1899.

23 January 2018

The Curious Case of the Dwarf and the Bulldog.

Brummy and Physic battle it out.
Low Life Deeps.
In a detailed and lurid article published on 6 July 1874 in the Daily Telegraph, investigative journalist James Greenwood claimed that several days earlier on 24 June, during a brief stopover in the Potteries, where he hoped to find evidence of illegal organised dog fighting, he and a large crowd of onlookers had instead witnessed a brutal fight in a cellar in Shelton between a grizzled, muscular dwarf named Brummy and a ferocious bulldog named Physic, a battle that the man had barely won. The national scandal that resulted from this shocking article seriously embarrassed the area for a time and questions were even asked in Parliament. 

However, all was not quite as it seemed and once the initial furore had died down the tables were  quickly turned on Mr Greenwood, as subsequent investigations by the police, the local authority, other newspapers and the RSPCA, not only highlighted the numerous glaring discrepancies in Greenwood's tale, but more tellingly found no absolutely evidence whatsoever that such a fight had taken place. Rather than sticking rigidly to the story he had spun, Greenwood then started to back-peddle, changing or mitigating parts of the tale to excuse himself and explain why there was no proof to be found, all of which excited a great deal of derision from other papers. The upshot of it all was that within a few weeks it was widely concluded that Greenwood had simply made the story up, or adapted a dubious scrap of Staffordshire folklore that he may have heard during his stay in the area. Following the RSPCA’s investigation and the report they sent in to the government, the Home Secretary of the time came to the same conclusion and on 20 July wrote a reply to the Hanley Watch Committee, which stated that he was satisfied that the story of the fight was false. 

Greenwood had thus been called a liar at the highest level and Hanley’s good name was restored, but mud sticks, and the tale rankled with the people of the Potteries for a good while after. In 1907, Arnold Bennett summed up the lingering ill-will towards the reporter and his tall tale in his famous short story ‘The Death of Simon Fuge’. 

‘The only man who stands a chance of getting his teeth knocked down his throat here is the ingenious person who started the celebrated legend of the man-and-dog fight at Hanbridge. It's a long time ago, a very long time ago; but his grey hairs wont save him from horrible tortures if we catch him. We don't mind being called immoral, we're above a bit flattered when London newspapers come out with shocking details of debauchery in the Five Towns, but we pride ourselves on our manners.’ 

Reference: James Greenwood, Low Life Deeps; Staffordshire Sentinel, July 1874; numerous national newspapers and magazines July 1874.