Oxfordshire Murders E-Book

Nicola Sly

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Oxfordshire Murders brings together twenty-five murderous tales, some which were little known outside the county, and others which made national headlines. Contained within the pages of this book are the stories behind some of the most heinous crimes ever committed in Oxfordshire. They include the deaths of two gamekeepers, brutally murdered in 1824 and 1835; Henrietta Walker, killed by her husband at Chipping Norton in 1887; Mary Allen, shot by Harry Rowles at Cassington in the same year; and Anne Kempson, murdered by Henry Seymour, a door-to-door salesman, in Oxford in 1931. Nicola Sly's carefully researched and enthralling text will appeal to anyone interested in the shady side of Oxfordshire's history.

Leseprobe

Oxfordshire

MURDERS

NICOLA SLY

First published in 2010

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2012

All rights reserved © Nicola Sly, 2010, 2012

The right of Nicola Sly, to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7524 8411 2

MOBI ISBN 978 0 7524 8410 5

Original typesetting by The History Press

CONTENTS

Author’s Note & Acknowledgements

1. ‘Who would grudge to send an old father to hell for £10,000?’

Henley-on-Thames, 1751

2. ‘Somebody cries murder!’

Forest of Wychwood, 1824

3. ‘I’ll see her damned first’

Oxford, 1827

4. ‘He must have possessed almost Herculean power’

Wantage, 1833

5. ‘That settled her off and entirely murdered her’

Woodcote, 1839

6. ‘I’ll be damned if I won’t kill him’

Broughton Castle, 1848

7. ‘She was as cold as a clod’

Watlington, 1850

8. ‘Uncle dead – three men’

Williamscot, 1852

9. ‘I could not have done it unless I had had some drink’

Upper Heyford, 1863

10. ‘I have heard her threaten to kill the children hundreds of times’

Tetsworth, 1869

11. ‘I don’t care what becomes of my soul’

Witney, 1871

12. ‘The very Devil tempted me to do it’

Cassington, 1877

13. ‘I will make you suffer for it before night’

Abingdon, 1885

14. ‘I believe old Beckley lies dead up the road there under a tree’

Blenheim Palace, Woodstock, 1885

15. ‘I have got a dead ‘un this morning’

Brasenose Common, Headington, 1887

16. ‘I hope I’ve made a good job of it’

Chipping Norton, 1887

17. ‘There will be a rum job presently’

Milton-under-Wychwood, 1888

18. ‘I could not hurt the poor creature’

Henley-on-Thames, 1893

19. ‘I can go and face that out’

Little Faringdon, 1893

20. ‘Police officers do not wear a halo and do not always speak the truth’

Gallows Tree Common, near Henley-on-Thames, 1922

21. ‘I have committed a murder tonight’

Noke, 1927

22. ‘You have got your work to do’

Near Burford, 1931

23. ‘Sooner or later the real truth will be revealed to you all’

Oxford, 1931

24. ‘There was going to be a row and I walked away’

Shutford, 1935

25. ‘I had better confess. I am guilty’

Oxford, 1938

26. ‘She dared me to do it’

Horley, 1952

27. ‘I was there and yet I wasn’t’

Oxford, 1963

Bibliography & References

AUTHOR’S NOTE & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The county of Oxfordshire is one of great contrasts. The bustling, cosmopolitan university city of Oxford, with its magnificent architecture, is renowned as one of the great seats of learning in the United Kingdom. Outside the city life is far more sedate, with much of the county comprising green spaces, small market towns and pretty villages.

In recent years, Oxfordshire has become almost synonymous with murder. Fortunately for the inhabitants of the county, these murders have been fictional ones, portrayed by actors in highly successful television crime dramas such as Inspector Morse, Lewis and Midsomer Murders. Yet, like any other county, as this collection of cases demonstrates, historically Oxfordshire has had its fair share of real life human tragedies, far removed from the world of entertainment, with lives lost needlessly through jealousy, greed, lust, hatred and madness.

Some of the cases recounted here were nationally reported, such as the 1931 murder of elderly widow Annie Kempson in Oxford. However, most were little known outside the county boundaries. These include the murders of three people and subsequent suicide of their killer in Shutford in 1935, the killing of 3-year-old George Hyde in Tetsworth in 1869, and the still unsolved murder of two little girls in Little Faringdon in 1893. Some of the perpetrators were undoubtedly insane at the time of their crimes, while others, such as the killer of 84-year-old Fanny Phillips at Woodcote in 1839, knew exactly what they were doing and had no regard for the inevitable consequences of their actions.

As usual, there are numerous people to be acknowledged and thanked for their assistance in compiling this book. Most of the material used was sourced from contemporary newspapers which, together with any books consulted, are listed in the bibliography at the end of the book. I must also thank the staff at the Oxfordshire Studies Centre in Westgate for their assistance in my research and the Oxford Mail for permission to use their photographs of victims Hilda Gibbs and Harold Matthews.

On a more personal level, I must also thank my husband, Richard, for his usual diligence in proofreading every chapter and for acting as chauffeur and occasional photographer on my research trip to the county.

Finally, my grateful thanks go to Matilda Richards, my editor at The History Press, for her continued help and encouragement.

Every effort has been made to clear copyright, however my apologies to anyone I may have inadvertently missed; I can assure you it was not deliberate but an oversight on my part.

Map of Oxfordshire.

1

‘WHO WOULD GRUDGE TO SEND AN OLD FATHER TO HELL FOR £10,000?’

Henley-on-Thames, 1751

Mary Blandy was the only child of a lawyer, who also served as town clerk to his town of residence, Henley-on-Thames. Although Mary’s mother had died, she lived comfortably with her prosperous father, Francis, in their home in Hart Street. However, by 1746, Mary had reached her late twenties without managing to attract a husband.

In an effort to redress this situation, Mary’s doting father advertised a dowry of £10,000 for anyone who married his daughter. Not surprisingly, this attracted a large number of prospective suitors, all of whom were probably keener to lay their hands on the money than they were to lay their hands on Mary!

All but one of the men were considered and rejected, many of them refusing to consider marriage when Francis Blandy declined to advance them any money, saying instead that he would leave it to his daughter on his death. ‘Such frequent Disappointments of Miss’s Expectations, and natural Desires, undoubtedly raised her Resentment,’ suggested the London Evening Post. (The fact was that although Blandy had advertised his wealth at £10,000, his actual worth was nearer to £3,000.) The only person who seemed a remotely suitable candidate was the Honourable Captain William Henry Cranstoun, the son of a Scottish nobleman, William 5th Lord of Cranstoun.

Hart Street, Henley-on-Thames, c. 1920. (Author’s collection)

Captain William was more than twelve years older than Mary, a small man with a mean expression and a face permanently disfigured by smallpox scars. Nevertheless, his status made him a suitable prospect in the eyes of Francis Blandy and he obviously managed to charm Mary, since they began a courtship which was to last for more than five years. Only then was it discovered that Cranstoun was in fact already married and, not only that, but he also had a child.

Francis Blandy was most unhappy at this new turn of events and encouraged his daughter to turn her back on her intended husband. Yet Mary was by now deeply in love with William, who promised her that his first marriage was not legal, and she tried desperately to change her father’s mind and make him see William as a suitable husband again.

William came up with a solution to their problems. He procured what he described as a ‘love philtre’ – powders which he gave to Mary to add to her father’s food, to make the old man like him again. Unbeknown to Mary, the powders were in fact arsenic, a fact well-known to her lover who, it seems, would stop at nothing to get his hands on her fortune.

On the instructions of William, Mary added the powders to tea and oatmeal, which were then served to her father. Rather than having a change of heart about Cranstoun, Francis Blandy just became progressively more ill. The household servants also sickened, having eaten the remains of foodstuffs intended for their master. Fortunately they all recovered, but William’s condition deteriorated until he was obviously near to death.

Hart Street and market place, Henley-on-Thames, c. 1920. (Author’s collection)

Mary sent for his doctor, Anthony Addington, to attend him. Addington recognised that his patient had been poisoned and accused Mary of being responsible. At this, Mary panicked and threw Cranstoun’s love letters onto the fire, along with the remaining powders. Servant Susannah Hall had the presence of mind to snatch some of the powder from the flames and it was sent to a chemist, who analysed it and found it to be arsenic.

Aware that he was dying, Francis summoned Mary to his bedside. Mary begged for his forgiveness, although she did not actually admit to poisoning him, only to administering ‘love powders’. Francis Blandy willingly forgave her, urging her to say nothing to anyone on the matter for fear she might incriminate herself.

Even before her father’s death on 14 August 1751, Mary was placed under virtual house arrest under the supervision of Edward Herne, the town’s parish clerk. Confined to her bedroom, day and night, she craved her freedom and, on one occasion, when her bedroom door was inadvertently left open, she seized the opportunity to go for a walk.

However, once outside, she found herself mobbed by angry Henley residents, who eventually chased her over the Thames Bridge into Berkshire. Terrified by the hostile crowd, Mary was forced to take refuge with a friend, Mrs Davis, the landlady of the Little Angel Inn at Remenham.

An inquest was held into the death of Francis Blandy, at which the coroner’s jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against Mary. She was arrested on 16 August and taken from the confines of her bedroom to the gaol at Oxford Castle to await her trial at the county assizes. Fears that she might try to escape led to her being forced to wear leg irons throughout her incarceration. Worse still, William Cranstoun completely deserted her and fled abroad, doubtless out of concern for the possible consequences of his own involvement in supplying the poison that had ultimately killed Francis Blandy. He is thought to have died in France in December 1752.

Mary’s trial was held in the hall of the Divinity School at Oxford, since the normal location for the assizes, the Town Hall, was undergoing refurbishment at the time. The proceedings opened on 3 March 1752 before the Honourable Heneage Legge and Sir Sidney Stafford Smythe.

Oxford Castle, where Mary Blandy awaited trial. (Author’s collection)

It was the first time that detailed medical evidence had ever featured in a trial for poisoning and, although Addington did not have the capability to analyse Francis Blandy’s organs for the presence of arsenic, he was easily able to convince the jury that it had been arsenic that killed him.

Mary was defended by three counsels and also took the witness stand herself in her own defence. She claimed that she had believed that the powders she had given to her father were supposed to change his feelings against William Cranstoun and stated that she had not connected her father’s illness with anything she might have administered in his food.

However, the Blandys’ servants told a different story. They testified to having been ill after eating leftover food and to having seen Mary adding powder to her father’s food and drink and later trying to burn the evidence. They also told the court of remarks she had allegedly made in their presence, calling her father ‘a rogue, a villain, and a toothless old dog’, and wishing him dead and ‘in Hell’. She had even once asked, ‘who would grudge to send an old father to Hell for £10,000?’

It took the jury less than five minutes to return a verdict of ‘Guilty’, after which she was sentenced to death and returned to Oxford Castle to await her execution. There, her warders were all very upset by her conviction – many local residents held the view that Mary was nothing more than a gullible dupe of Cranstoun, an innocent girl who would do anything for the man she truly loved. Mary was quick to dismiss the warders’ concerns telling them, ‘Don’t mind it. What does it signify?’ Professing herself to be hungry after her trial, she then tucked into a hearty meal of mutton chops and apple pie, her ordeal obviously having had no effect on her appetite.

In the six weeks between her trial and her execution, Mary spent her time in the condemned cell writing her own account of ‘the affair’ between herself and William Cranstoun. She also corresponded with a number of people, including a servant, Elizabeth Jeffries, who was herself waiting to be executed for her part in the murder of her master and his uncle.

The place of Mary’s actual execution on 6 April 1752 is disputed, with some sources stating that she was executed in the grounds of Oxford Castle, others saying that a gallows was specially erected on Westgate. Regardless of the exact location, Mary faced her death with characteristic bravery, urging her executioners ‘for the sake of decency, gentlemen, don’t hang me high.’

The gallows took the form of a rope noose, which Mary had to climb a ladder to reach. With the rope around her neck, the hangman would turn the ladder, tipping Mary off and leaving her suspended by the neck until dead. Still protesting her innocence, Mary clutched a prayer book in her hands. It was agreed that she would drop the prayer book as a signal that she was ready to die and, when she had finished her prayer, the book was dropped and Mary died instantly.

Her body was carried back to the castle by six men and she was later buried at Henley parish church, between the graves of her mother and father. Her ghost is said to haunt both Westgate and the Little Angel Inn.

2

‘SOMEBODY CRIES MURDER!’

Forest of Wychwood, 1824

Brothers Joseph and James Millin were both in service as gamekeepers to Lord Churchill, on his Blenheim estate in West Oxfordshire. On the evening of Tuesday, 15 June 1824, the two men were out patrolling an area called Hensgrove Copse, within the Forest of Wychwood. The brothers had separated and, at about half past eight, Joseph took a single shot at a rabbit. Roughly fifteen minutes later he heard a shot from another part of the forest, accompanied by a shout of ‘Halloa!’

Joseph went to investigate and, within minutes, came across two men, William James and Henry Pittaway, who had also heard the shot and were hurrying in the direction of the sound.

‘Have you shot?’ William James asked Joseph, who replied that he had.

‘We heard someone shout “Halloa”,’ William continued.

‘I thought the cry was murder,’ added Pittaway.

William James seemed to know where the shot had originated from and said that he believed the voice he had heard shouting was that of Joseph’s brother, James. Soon, the three men came upon James Millin, lying on the forest floor, badly wounded.

‘My thigh is broken. I am shot,’ James told his brother, adding that it had been poachers who had shot him.

Unbeknown to his brother, James Millin had already been found by a local farmer, Mr Thomas Young, who had immediately rushed off to get help. When Young returned with several other people, he found Joseph Millin, William James and Henry Pittaway trying to stem the flow of blood from the shot man’s left thigh.

Blenheim Palace, where Joseph and James Millin were gamekeepers to Lord Churchill. (Author’s collection)

The wounded gamekeeper was carried to Joseph’s home, South Lawn Lodge, on the estate, where in spite of the attentions of a doctor, he died at eleven o’clock that night. A later post-mortem examination, carried out by surgeon Mr Augustus Batt of Witney, showed that the femoral artery in his thigh had been perforated and, as a result, he had bled to death.

At daybreak the next morning, Joseph Millin went to the spot where his brother had been shot and searched the area carefully. Roughly 10 yards from where James had fallen, Joseph found two sets of footprints, along with some burning to the leaves of surrounding bushes, which he believed was caused by the gunpowder from a shotgun. On one bush, there were small pieces of wadding from a shotgun cartridge. Joseph traced the trajectory of the shot from the bushes and found two leaden balls.

Having been in the area at the time of the shooting, William James and Henry Pittaway were naturally prime suspects in the murder of James Millin and were questioned at great length by the police. However, no evidence could be found to link them with the murder and they were eventually discharged, leaving an inquest held by coroner Mr W. Macey to record a verdict of ‘wilful murder against some person or persons unknown’. James Millin, who left a wife and child, had only been employed as a keeper for a short time and it was theorised that he might have been mistaken for his brother, Joseph, who had previously been very active in the detection and prosecution of any poachers found on the estate.

Whichever of the brothers the shot had been intended for, Lord Churchill wasn’t about to let the matter rest. He contacted Sir Richard Birnie, the Chief Magistrate at Bow Street, and requested the services of a Bow Street Runner and William Salmon was sent to Oxfordshire to assist in the search for the gamekeeper’s killer.

Salmon’s first action was to carry out another search of the area where James Millin had been shot and a third ball was found, which was thought to be the very one that had passed through the victim’s thigh. The Bow Street Runner then began a careful and thorough investigation of the events of the night of 15 June, starting with the two previously discharged suspects, Henry Pittaway and William James.

Both Pittaway, who was twenty-five years old and James, who was forty-eight, had previous convictions for poaching. Not surprisingly, several people had seen them in Wychwood Forest around the time of the shooting, although nobody had seen either man carrying a gun. Pittaway’s house had already been searched after the murder and his gun examined in comparison with one of the lead balls found by Joseph Millin. Although various poaching tools were found, including hare nets, deer slips, a powder horn, a bullet mould and a gun, the ball had been so deformed by striking the ground that it would not fit either Pittaway’s gun or the bullet mould.

Several people stated that William James had often threatened violence towards the Millins, on account of a previous summons that he had received for poaching. William was given a sheep by a local farmer, which he jointed and hung on the beams of his cottage. Joseph Millin and his then assistant, John Bayliss, saw the meat and, believing it to be venison, took a summons out on William James who was forced to appear before the local magistrates. However, before his case came up, Bayliss left his job and consequently nobody appeared at court to give evidence for the prosecution and William James was discharged. After the inquest had closed, one witness allegedly heard William James say, ‘Revenge is sweet and let the Lord repay it.’

At around midnight on the night of the murder, James and Pittaway had gone to the Hit and Miss public house, where they had related the story of James Millin’s ‘accident’ to a fascinated audience of drinkers. William James had mentioned that they had seen a man in a light coloured coat or smock running from the scene of the shooting but had not caught up with him. Mr Sims, one of the drinkers at the pub that night, visited William James at home on the following day. William’s wife told him that she expected their house to be searched in connection with the murder and asked Sims to take a gun and hide it. He had placed it in his barn but, a few days later, he became nervous and asked Mrs James to take the gun back, which she refused to do. Sims then hid the gun under some straw in a barn belonging to somebody else and, when it was eventually retrieved, it was found to be loaded with three balls. Pittaway’s gun was dismantled after the murder and he too took his weapon to a friend’s house for safe keeping, retrieving it only after he had initially been apprehended and discharged.

Now, Salmon compared the new ball found in the forest with the bullet mould found at Pittaway’s house and was positive that the two matched. As a consequence, William James and Henry Pittaway were arrested again and formally charged with the wilful murder of James Millin. Protesting their innocence, they were brought before magistrates, where they were committed for trial at the next Oxford Assizes.

The trial was conducted by Mr Justice Park, with Mr Taunton prosecuting and Mr Curwood defending. As the jury was being sworn in, the defence objected to three members, who were promptly replaced.

The evidence against the two defendants seemed sparse and the essence of the case boiled down to three main factors – their presence in the locality on the night in question, the bullet mould found at Pittaway’s house and various comments they had both made before witnesses about the murder.

That the two men had previous convictions for poaching and had been in the forest on the night of the murder was not in dispute, since they met Joseph Millin and helped to carry the victim back to Millin’s house. The fact that none of the witnesses had seen either man carrying a gun that night was largely ignored. William James and Henry Pittaway stated that, on the evening of the murder, they had been inspecting Pittaway’s potato field when they had heard shooting and a cry for help. ‘Somebody cries murder!’ remarked Pittaway and the two men had run towards the sound of the shot, meeting Joseph Millin on their way.

Much weight was placed on remarks that William James and Henry Pittaway had made both before and after the murder. Many of these comments seem to have been heard by members of the Pratley family and James, George, Job and Philip Pratley all testified in court, mostly about what had allegedly been said by the defendants.

Job Pratley had heard William James say, ‘If one man could have an opportunity, Millin would not be keeper much longer.’ William had later remarked to Philip that he would ‘... no more mind shooting Millin than nothing, if he could get the chance, and was sure no one was with him,’ and that he was ‘... sure murder would be done this summer.’ James Pratley had overheard a conversation between his brother, George, and William James on the day after the murder when William had been taken into custody for the first time. ‘My neck is but short now. Perhaps it may be longer at Midsummer,’ said William.

The Pratley family were not the only people who had heard the defendants talking about the murder. John Hodgkins heard the two men discussing the case during the inquest and told the court that they were under the impression that, if only one man had actually pulled the trigger it would be impossible for two men to be hanged. Then there was also the ‘Revenge is sweet’ comment made by William James after the inquest.

The third factor in the case against James and Pittaway was the fact that the lead balls found in the area, including the one that had apparently killed James Millin, appeared to have been fashioned in Pittaway’s own bullet mould.

Once the prosecution had rested, Mr Curwood, the counsel for the defence, stated that he had no witnesses to call and, as the two accused men declined to speak in their own defence, it only remained for Mr Justice Park to summarise the evidence for the jury. Much of this summary focused on the fact that two men were charged with the murder when only one man had actually pulled the trigger and fired the fatal shot. Park informed the jury that all who were present at the time were, both legally and morally, equally responsible for the murder.

The jury took only fifteen minutes to return a verdict of ‘guilty’ against both defendants and Mr Justice Park donned the black cap preparatory to imparting sentence of death upon them. However, neither defendant took the sentence lightly and every time the judge opened his mouth, William James shouted over him.

‘Prisoners at the bar, you have been found guilty...’ began the judge.

‘I am not guilty, so help me God,’ interjected William James.

‘...and after a full, fair and impartial trial...’

‘It was not impartial.’

‘...by a jury...’

‘A pretty jury indeed.’

‘...you have been found guilty...’

‘We are both innocent. We had no gun and I had no gun that day.’

‘...of a most horrid murder...’

‘Murder! We did not do the murder, my Lord. I declare again, we did not.’

Eventually, the judge managed to complete his pronunciation of the death sentence, ordering that both men should be executed, following which their bodies should be anatomised by surgeons. William James continued to argue his every word and Henry Pittaway eventually added his own voice, first urging his co-defendant to say no more, then reiterating his own innocence. Urged to repent by the judge, James shouted, ‘I cannot repent of what I am not guilty.’

The two men had just a few days to languish in Oxford Castle awaiting their execution, during which time both continued to assert their innocence of the crime. Given that both now faced certain death, it is interesting to note that at no time did one of the men try to save his own neck by implicating the other, especially as only one of them could have fired the fatal shot.

They maintained their innocence until the very last, even in the face of exhortations from the prison chaplain to repent and seek mercy ‘... at the throne of grace’. As they stepped calmly onto the scaffold on 2 August 1824, William James even joked as the noose was placed around his neck, saying, ‘The rope is tight enough for me already but I suppose it will soon be tighter.’

Although both men insisted that they had not committed the murder, after their execution the contemporary newspapers mysteriously reported, ‘We are informed from those who had much conversation with them since their condemnation that there is no doubt but they were the persons who committed the murder and that their sentence was a very just one.’ Since the newspapers do not elaborate further, it is not possible to make a totally informed decision about the guilt or innocence of either Henry Pittaway or William James.

Unfortunately, one fact about the murder and subsequent executions that is not in dispute is that three wives were left widows and a total of nine children were left fatherless.

3

‘I’LL SEE HER DAMNED FIRST’

Oxford, 1827

In recent years, Brasenose College in Oxford has become closely associated with murder, being the fictitious ‘Lonsdale College’ of the long-running television police drama Inspector Morse. However, back in 1827, the college was central to a real-life murder mystery of its own, one that has remained unsolved to this day.

Ann Crotchley (also known as Ann Crutchley, Priest, Price or Preece) was a young, unmarried woman described in the newspapers of the day as being ‘of great personal beauty’. The twenty-four-year-old woman came from a respectable Herefordshire family but was brought to Oxford by a lover who, having first seduced her and ruined her reputation, abandoned her in the city with no friends or means of supporting herself. Too ashamed to return home, Ann resorted to prostitution, although she was said to be ‘…far beyond the class of such unfortunate outcasts’.

At the beginning of December 1827, Ann met a fellow prostitute, Harriet Mitchell, and the two young women quickly became firm friends. Walking the streets of Oxford together on 6 December, Ann and Harriet came across a riotous drinking party being held in the ground floor room of a student of Brasenose College. As the two girls passed, they were called to the window by the students and asked if they would like a drink. Both Ann and Harriet asked for wine but were told that there was none. However, one third-year student, Houstonne John Radcliffe, told the girls that he would give them some brandy if they would drink it. Ann and Harriet agreed that they would. The window was barred, hence it was not possible to pass either a glass or a bottle from inside the room to the street outside. Thus Radcliffe filled a large teapot with brandy and both girls drank from the spout, with Ann consuming an estimated pint of spirits.

Brasenose College, Oxford. (Author’s Collection)