DEATH ON THE WALLS - Poison in Victorian Britain

            Wallpaper as a murder weapon? Poisoned in your sleep? This week's post recounts how a fashion for green could kill!

“A great deal of slow poisoning is going on in Great Britain.”

Dr William Hinds 1857

            In the 1850’s oil lamps, with their brighter light, replaced candles as the main source of household illumination, and so walls no longer needed to be pale reflective colours. Dark shades became fashionable and of these, there was a passion for Scheele’s Green and Schweinfurt Green. Anyone who was 'on trende' had to have a ‘green room,’ and manufacturers estimated that in 1858 there were an estimated 100 million squares miles of green wallpaper in Britain alone. Unfortunately, what people failed to realize was that their prized wallpaper was coloured with arsenic, and very likely poisoning them.

A fashionable green room.

            There first hint of trouble was recorded in the Limehouse district of London, in 1862. First one child, then a second, and tragically a third, died with symptoms similar to diphtheria. However an inspection of their home by the Medical Health Officer was of another opinion – he noted the green wallpaper in the children’s bedroom. After tests it became clear that the painful, constricted throats that ailed the children were not due to diphtheria, but arsenic found in the Scheele’s green wallpaper.

Limehouse, London, in 1899.

 

            A correspondence on the subject of arsenical wallpapers took place in The Times newspaper. One respondent, signing himself ‘A. Sufferer’ wrote that when he told his decorator that he was distributing poison, the man:

“…denied the possibility of ill resulting and offered to eat a pound of paper.”

            However the paper manufacturers had a lot to lose, and with much the same attitude as tobacco manufacturers’ in the 1960’s, decided to deny the evidence, saying things such as:

“Look, I can rub it [wallpaper] hard, I can lick it [wallpaper] a dozen times with my hand and nothing comes off.”

            Their defence was that good quality wallpapers didn’t shed arsenical dust and so couldn’t be poisoning people. It took until the 1890’s for science to show that arsenical vapour (not just solid arsenic) was deadly.

            To make matters worse, the Victorian remedy for illness was to be confined to a room and avoid cold air. This meant that people suffering with headaches, fatigue, chest complaints and nauseau (all symptoms of arsenical poisoning) were likely to take to their beds in a green bedroom with the windows tight shut against draughts and thus :

“Breath air loaded with the breathe of death.”

A typical Victorian sick room scene.

           As stories spread people became more suspicious of that their décor was making them ill. When one lady sickened, and her pet cat’s fur fell out, she swapped rooms with her maid and she made a full recovery…whilst the maid took sick. It didn’t take long for infamous green wallpaper to appear in fiction…as a murder weapon.

            In ‘Chambers Journal of Popular Literature, Science and Arts’ a story was published about the orphan, Sir Frederick Staunton. Now Freddie’s guardian, his Uncle, wished the boy harm so that he could inherit, and sent his ward to stay with the local vicar. His instructions were to give the boy the best room in the house, a room decorated with a wallpaper of a:  “..rich, deep, emerald hue.”  Apparently the room was cursed by a monk in the time of Henry VIII,

“Several deaths had occurred in the green chamber in particular, for the most part blooming girls who had faded and pined under ‘the curse’ until their dim eyes had looked their last at the emerald-tinted walls.” 

Fortunately for a sickening Freddie, a visiting physician spotted the true cause of the boy’s ill health and all ended happily.

A Victorian green dining room - (courtesy of the Guardian.com)

            Unhappily, arsenic wasn’t just present in green wallpaper, but also in blue, pink, yellow, brown, gray and white. In 1870’s America, the Michigan Board of Health assembled books of samples of arsenical wallpaper, called ‘Shadows from the Walls of Death’ to be circulated to every state library and increase awareness of this silent danger.

            Even so, it Queen Victoria was seemingly unaware of the danger when in 1879 she abraided a guest for being late for his audience. His defence was that he had slept poorly because of the green wallpaper in his bedroom. Astonished to learn of the dangers of arsenical papers the Queen had every bit of wallpaper stripped out of Buckingham Palace.

A typical Willam Morris design - courtesy of V&A museum.

            Not everyone was so easily convinced. The famous artist and designer, William Morris,  only removed green arsenic pigments from his wallpapers under protest, writing in 1885:

“….it is hardly possible to imagine….a greater folly…than the arsenic scare.”

            Eventually in the 1870’s it was public fear of poisoning that saw the decline in fashion for green. Some manufacturers’ tried to forestall this by printing ‘Free From Arsenic’ on the back of their papers. This backfired since when tests were run on these ‘arsenic free’ papers, they were found to contain very high levels indeed. Public confidence never recovered and green walls went out of fashion!  

Sometimes it's easy to ignore the obvious.....

CORPSE CANDLES - Poison in Victorian Britain.

"An abominable smell like garlic."

            So far in this series we've discovered that poison surrounded the Victorians: in their food, medicines…and even in the candles that lit their homes!

            This week our story starts on a summer's evening in 1837 when Mr. Everitt, preparing to retire for the night, blew out his candle. Mr Everitt, who just happened to be a professor of chemistry, became alarmed by the scent of garlic - which he knew to be  the characteristic smell given off by heated arsenic. The next day Everitt went to his laboratory where he determined that the smouldering candle did indeed give off arsenical vapours.

            Everitt's candle was one of a variety of 'composition candles', newly available on the British market. These candles had the advantage of burning like high quality wax (as opposed to tallow) but at a fraction of the price. What's even more interesting is that these candles originated from France - where they were banned!

            In 1810 the French scientist, Michel Chevreul, found a way of separating cheap tallow (beef or mutton fat) into solid and liquid components. The solid part he called 'stearine' and had a higher melting point that crude tallow, which made it more desirable for candles. But stearine was more brittle and less glossy than wax, so Parisian manufacturers hit on a secret additive that when poured into the moulds corrected these problems. The nature of this additive was a closely guarded secret, kept from the public. But in 1834 the French authorities got wind that arsenic was the magic ingredient - and prohibited all future manufacture.

"Every trace of arsenicated candles was obliterated from the capital of France."

            But meanwhile, French candle makers sold the secret to their London counterparts and for two years, 1835 - 6, stearine-arsenic candles lit British homes, oblivious to the danger until one evening Professor Everitt smelt garlic.

            Everitt made his findings public and alarming notices were posted:

"Death in the candle…. may with propriety be called - Corpse Candles." The Lancet.

            Undesirable as inhaling arsenic may be, it seems perhaps these claims were a little exaggerated. Clinical trials where birds were exposed to burning composition candles demonstrated small finches in a distressed state and then died after several hours, but of larger mammals such as guinea pigs and rabbits, none died. 

The Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.

But the report written by the medical committee put forward this question:

"Let us suppose,…that London's Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, whose chandeliers held 152 tapers…were to be lighted with stearine candles…In that case 608 grains of arsenious acid would be vaporised and floating in the air during the time of the performance. Is anyone prepared to assert that not one of the individuals present ..would not receive the slightest injury?"

            In other words - why take the risk? Especially since it was also found that the addition of a harmless ingredient, chalk, had the same beneficial effects against brittleness, as arsenic!

            And finally, in 1859 another chemist reported the smell of garlic from his candle. However, in this case the cause was the green pigment colouring the wax, Scheele's green. At this time there was a craze for green in home furnishings and …you guessed it…Scheele's green owed it's vivid pigment to the presence of arsenic (more of this next week.)

DOCTOR DEATH - Poison in Victorian Britain.

            In Victorian Britain, if you couldn't trust your loved ones or the food you eat not to poison you, then who could you trust? Sadly, the answer did not include physicians, who frequently employed poison as medicine!

            In the 19th century medicines generally fell into one of two categories: the useless, and the downright harmful. But far from this seeming a negligent attitude, doctors worked within the bounds of the knowledge that existed at that time. Prior to the development of 'germ theory' in the 1880's, physicians had no understanding of what caused infectious disease (ie bacteria and viruses) and therefore could not target the root cause (kill the micro-organism.) Instead treatment relied on bedside observations of the effect of medications on the progression of symptoms.

            Take this example from the august medical journal, The Lancet (still a leading publication for the UK medical professional.)

"An old woman confined to her chair by rheumatism had a quarrel with her servant girl…the girl struck back by putting arsenic in the woman's tea…the woman drank only a little before getting sick…after recovering from the poison she found her rheumatism was relieved…the accidental arsenic had apparently cured her."

The Lancet.

            The idea that a poison could have beneficial properties was nothing new, but just a matter of finding the correct dose.

"Within… this weak flower, poison hath residence and medicine power"

Romeo and Juliet.

            Disease, it was hypothesised, was the alteration of the balance of humours within the body; thus any treatment that induced vomiting or diarrhoea, was credited with purging the ill humour and restoring balance, hence the importance of purges and laxatives. And perhaps it wont surprise you to read that the most successful emetics contained poison.

            It was a Staffordshire physician, Thomas Fowler, who in 1786 turned the using arsenic as medicine, into a science. He published a book of his research (or rather observations!) titled, "Medical Reports of the Effects of Arsenic", in which he agreed strongly for the use of arsenic in sick people. One such case study was a lady suffering from asthma. The patient went from, "Being in a state of constant breathlessness, incapable of the slight exertion," to near normal activity. Another asthmatic, who struggled to climb a single flight of steps, after treatment was able, "To go from the bottom steps in the Crystal Palace, right off up to the top, without the slightest embarrassment and much to her own astonishment."

            Interestingly, the medicine used for asthma was often delivered in cigarettes (the smoke inhaled into the lungs where the effect was desired) and the special tobacco often had a plant product, stramonium added. Stramonium contains atropine, an alkaloid which acts on bronchiles to dilate them…and ease breathing.

            Fowler was so convincing, and ever with an eye to safety (!) he had a remedy professionally approved. It was a mineral solution 'liquor arsenicalis' with a touch of lavender added to give it a distinctive flavour and stop people drinking it as water. This solution became known as 'Fowler's Solution.' It became widely used against anaemia, diabetes, heart palpations, worms, syphilis, tuberculosis, rickets, rabies, menstrual irregularities and morning sickness!

"In arsenic we have…a perfect prophylactic in most infectious diseases."

            In the 1840's, arsenic was discovered in the spa waters at Bath, which in the mind set of the day, offered a possible explanation for the beneficial effect of spa therapy.

            And finally, you may be relieved that not all doctors were convinced that the benefits of arsenic outweighed the risk of poisoning.

            "A large section of the profession repudiate arsenic altogether…hurling invectives against the temerity and recklessness of the doctors who prescribe it."

            All this, set against those physicians who insisted that Fowler's solution was invaluable and would,

            "Sacrifice nine-tenths of the Materia Medicia for arsenic."

            If you were a sick in Victorian times, how hard to know who to believe!

DEATH IN THE POT - Poison in Victorian Britain.

In this week's post about poison in Victorian Britain, we look at the hidden dangers in food. We start with the chilling tale of the sweet-shop owner, Joseph Neal, and his peppermint drops.



Punch parody of sweet making in Victorian Britain.

One Monday in October, 1858, Mr Neal sent his assistant to buy a quantity of plaster of Paris from the druggist. The reason? It was much cheaper than sugar and could be used as 'daft' or an inexpensive substitute to bulk up sweets. The assistant called on the chemist, who sent his apprentice to the cellar, where he weighed out twelve pounds of daft. Unfortunately, the new assistant measured out and mistakenly sold him the wrong white powder - arsenic. This deadly poison was taken back to the sweet shop where it was incorporated into peppermint drops - which killed twelve people and made over a hundred seriously ill.

Victorian Bradford - where Joseph Neal had his sweet shop.

But how did the chemist's apprentice get confused? The poison was labelled "Arsenic" but on the base of barrel. Also, the 'Sale of Arsenic Act' required the poison to be coloured before leaving the shop, but took no account of tubs of arsenic in storerooms waiting to be dispensed.

Peppermint creams.

The nub of the peppermint problem was substituting ingredients to increase profit, but this was nothing new. (A medieval test for sugar in beer was to sit a man in leather breeches on a stool covered in beer. When the ale dried, if the man stuck to the seat, the brewer was guilty of adulteration.) More seriously, it was not unusual to brighten sweets with the addition of red lead glaze, or copper to tinned pickles.

It was said that merchants were so driven by money that:

"the possible sacrifice of even a fellow creature's life is a secondary consideration."

In the 1820's the German chemist, Friedrich Accum took on a person crusade to stop food adulteration, the practice being so widespread:

"There is death in the pot."

Even bread and cheese commonly contained adulterants.

Even before Accum, in the 1790's an article in The Tatler warns about a:

"Fraternity of chemical operators, who work undergrounds…hidden from view…transmuting base ingredients [sub standard wine]…into the choicest products of the hills and valleys of France."

They did this by adding alum (to brighten colour) gypsum (to remove cloudiness) and sugar of lead (to counteract acidity). Not only that, but they often used bottles bought from pedlars who in turn had bought them from druggists who had previously used them to store arsenic!

Interestingly, one victim of adulterated wine was Francis Blandy (see Part One), when he partook of tainted wine in the Red Lion, Henley. His two drinking companions died; whilst he survived (He was later poisoned by his daughter who thought she was giving him 'forgiveness powder.')

And finally.
You would have expected the Victorian parliament to bring in rigorous laws, prohibiting the use of food adulteration - but not a bit of it! On the one side a public outcry led to an anti-adulteration bill being put before the House of Commons in 1857, but it was voted down, as was a similar bill in 1859. Oratory denounced the legislation as interference, that it:

"Treated the people of this country like children"

In other words, people could make their own decisions about what they bought and if might harm them - much like fast food today?

"Soon government would have such power as even to lay down the proportion of water a man might put in his grog."

Echoes of rebellion against the modern 'Nanny' state?

Additives? What additives?

DEATH CLUB - Poison In Victorian Britain.

In the early 19th century, the rise of the insurance industry gave murderers a new motivation - a quick profit! At the time it was said of life insurance that although it gave peace of mind, it also provided a path to easy wealth; "by insuring a life and destroying it."

For those Victorian's with a mind to 'get rich quick', poison was the perfect tool since many of the victim's symptoms could be passed off a natural disease. Added to that arsenic, strychnine and other toxins easily available, for use as rat bait and the like, and could be bought from the local chemist.  The Victorians became paranoid about poison because of a deadly combination of ease of purchase, poor regulation and newspapers reporting on murder trials.

Arsenic was widely available as rat bait.

"To take heed against poison [was now] one of the waking thoughts common to all."

Journalist writing in 1850.

Whilst the upper classes took out life insurance, the lower classes joined 'Death Clubs' to avoid the disgrace of a pauper's funeral. Run by Friendly Societies (where tradesmen paid in a weekly amount, in return for financial support if they couldn't work), the idea behind a Death Club was to contribute to a fund that paid out on death, to cover funeral costs.

The average cost of a funeral was one to two pounds, and some Manchester clubs paid out four or even five pounds. Because of the tidy profit to be made by disposing of an unwanted spouse, parent or child, the membership lists soon became known as "The catalogue of the doomed," and amongst the women who inhabited the Manchester tenements there was a saying:

"Aye, that child will not live, it is in the burial club." 

Some poor children were enrolled in multiple clubs, so that when each of which paid out on death, the parents reaped twenty pounds or more. A clergyman's wife visiting a bereaved mother to comfort her for the loss of a daughter, was shocked to overhear a neighbour saying:

"A fine thing [for the mother] as the child's in two clubs."

Later in the Victorian era Death Clubs were widely regarded as: 'the prolific mother of arsenical murders" and in response to the problem, in 1850 Parliament enacted a statue prohibiting the insuring of children under 10 for more than three pounds.

Mary Ann Cotton - or "The Black Widow Poisoner."

An example of such fearful ruthlessness was Mary Ann Cotton, a candidate for the title of being the most prolific serial killer prior to Doctor Harold Shipman in the 1990's. Cotton, a woman of 'comely' appearance and a former Sunday school teacher used arsenic to murder her mother, three husbands, fifteen children and step-children, and a lodger. In each case the cause of death was 'gastric complaints' and Mary benefited from insurance payments. It took twelve years for people to become suspicious, for Mary to be put on trial and sentenced to death.

The yard at Durham Prison where Mary was executed.

But finally, what really unsettled the Victorian's was that the killer, Mary, was female. Poisoning was a cowardly, secretive, skulking act and that a female murderer was convicted only confirmed a growing male suspicion that women were sinister, deceitful beings in an almost hysterical way.

"It is the softer sex who are everywhere addicted to this propensity.[to poison]"

The ultimate rat killer!

Next week: Sweet Temptation - the hidden danger of poisoned sweets.

ACCIDENTAL MURDER - Poison in Victorian Britain.

Part ONE - A Story of Agony.

"Murder…by poison is the most dreadful, as it takes a man unguarded and gives him no opportunity to defend himself"

Counsel for the Crown in the Mary Blandy case. 1752

Welcome to a new series of blog posts about poison in Victorian Britain. Murder by poisoning was an obsession with the Victorians - whilst ignoring the poison surrounding them in their homes; from the rat bait that could be mistaken for flour, to the pigment in wallpaper. Over the next few weeks we will look at the poisoner's art, accidental poisonings, dangers in the home and at work, and how physicians poisoned their patients.

The Case of Mary Blandy.

The root of the Victorian horror of poisoning can be found a hundred years earlier, in the case of Mary Blandy.

In childhood Mary was disfigured by smallpox, but with a dowry of 10,000 pounds she had hopes of marriage. However, none of her suitors met the stringent standards set by her father, Francis Blandy. Then along came Captain William Cranstoun, who although a short, pock-marked, clumsy man, had the advantage of being a scion of Scottish aristocracy and his suit was welcomed by Mr Blandy.

Mary and William became engaged, but then disaster! Francis Blandy found out his prospective son-in-law was already married. Captain Cranstoun left in disgrace, but unknown to Mr Blandy, kept up a correspondence with the infatuated Mary.

Cranstoun wrote to the besotted woman, enclosing a 'powder of forgiveness' to put into her father's tea. Apparently, with this potion, her father's objection to them being together would vanish and all would be well. She did as instructed on numerous occasions, even doubling the dose when it seemed to have little effect and then Mr Blandy grew ill, suffering terribly:

"A fireball in his stomach" and "one of the effects being that the teeth dropping out of his head, whole from their sockets."

Servants noticed a strange white residue at the bottom of his tea cup and called a physician, who concluded the powder was arsenic. When the father was informed his daughter was likely poisoning him, he replied:

"Poor love-sick girl! What will not a woman do for the man she loves!"

Francis died 14 August 1751, but he had exaggerated his wealth and his daughter's dowry was a fraction of the 10,000 pounds he advertised. So who knows if Cranstoun would have resorted to a capital offence so such a lesser amount?

Mary was arrested and imprisoned at Oxford, and her story dominated the newspapers, and a play written about her story. "The Fair Parricide, A Tragedy in Three Acts."

We will never know whether Mary had been duped or a willing accessory to murdering her father - but she was hung on 6 April 1752.

On news of Mary's arrest Cranstoun fled to France and evaded punishment. However, nine months later he became ill, the symptoms not unlike those of poisoning:

"Such torments…such great agonies as to make him wish for death some days before he died."

Mary's ghost is said to walk the grounds of Park Place, Henley-On-Thams.

The poison used by Mary Blandy was arsenic. The poison can be absorbed through the skin, gut or mucous membranes such as the vagina or rectum. In the 18th century one servant, who failed to kill his mistress with arsenic laced soup, succeeded by adding it to her enema liquid!

Indeed, a 16th Century German farmer is attributed with murdering three wives by inserting an arsenic coated finger into their vaginas after coition.

So if arsenic had been around for a long time, why did the Victorian's fear of it reach near hysterical proportions? Find out next week!

Easter Lilies are poisonous to cats and cause kidney failure.

Next week: Death Clubs.

The Great Seducers- Forewarned is Forearmed!

            In this, the last post on 'The Great Seducers' I look at the other side of the coin - their victims! Just as the seducers can be categorised, so can the people they prey on. So here goes - if you're not a master seducer, then caste your eye over the following list and see where you are most vulnerable to their attentions.

The Reformed Pleasure Seeker.

In their younger years they were happy go lucky but the day came when they decided to settle down to marriage and a family. But from time to time this leaves a lingering sense of resentment or loss, when they think of recapturing those lost pleasures an elicit relationship…

The Disillusioned Dreamer.

As children they were loners, immersing themselves in books and films. They dreamed of romantic heroes and as they grew older, became disillusioned by the pettiness of everyday life. They learn to compromise but deep down, still hunger for something grander and more romantic.

The Pampered Princess.

The classic spoilt child whose every whim was met by their adoring parents. As adults when their parents are no longer available, they tend to get bored and restless. They seek pleasure and move from job to job, looking for fulfilment. What they really want is a person who will spoil them and give them what they crave.

The New-Age Prude.

The prude is concerned about appearances, about political correctness, fairness and tastefulness. Deep down they are excited by transgressive pleasures and as an over correction, run in the opposite direction. They are judgemental and addicted to routine …and attracted to those they feel need reforming, making them vulnerable to those who confide in them and seem open to redemption.

The Neglected Star.

At one point in their life the crushed star was the centre of attention; perhaps an athlete or a high achiever, but that time passed. To cope they tamp down their desires, but attention makes them glow, and someone who makes them the feel special is powerful indeed.

The Intellectual.

The intellectual debates and analyses the simplest thing, and are actually trapped in a mental prison of their own making. Unconsciously they long to have their reason overwhelmed by someone who is purely physical.

The Ageing Beauty.

She constantly worries about her fading looks, and so pretends she doesn’t value beauty. Her weakness is some one who worships her looks, but crucially, also celebrates her intellect and humour.

The Roué

They often appear cynical and jaded, having led lives of pleasure fuelled by money and position. Their weakness is the young and seemingly innocent, qualities they begin to covet in themselves.

The Drifter.

They have an inner emptiness, searching the world for a cause to satisfy them. They are vulnerable to someone who seems worthy of follower, who represents a noble cause or high ideals.

This is by no means an exhaustive list. From your observations of human nature…what others can you suggest?