Historical biographies

Tag: Probing Deaths Saving Lives

The Sad Case of George and Sarah Hall: a Victorian tale of crime, passion and mercy

Dramatic newspaper accounts of homicides were avidly consumed in the Victorian era, just as they are today, and sometimes public opinion could sway the outcome. One notable instance involved George and Sarah Ann Hall of Birmingham, a young couple of limited means.

Aris’s Birmingham Gazette, 20 February 1864

Death of Sarah Hall

George, a jewelry stamper, and Sarah, a shop worker, married on Christmas Day 1864. They had known each other for seven years but their relationship was volatile. Just nine days after the wedding, Sarah left George and returned to her parents’ home, complaining he had provided her with hardly any money. However, the real reason was her ongoing infidelity with another man. Despite this, George remained devoted to Sarah and tried hard to persuade her to return.

Six weeks later, he met Sarah after work and walked with her to her parents’ home. According to Sarah’s mother, they both seemed downcast, but George was behaving tenderly towards his wife, as ever. They left for a walk but did not return.

Just before midnight, a police constable heard a pistol shot. Investigating, he found Sarah Hall on a canal bridge. She was carried home, where she died without regaining consciousness. George confessed to the crime and was arrested.

The inquest

The inquest attracted such a large crowd of onlookers that several policemen had to be deployed to keep order.  A jury was sworn in by the coroner, Dr Birt Davies, and George Hall, was brought before the jury. Looking distraught, he burst into tears when he saw Sarah’s mother, and he remained in a semi-fainting state throughout the proceedings.

Witnesses were called. It transpired that the day before the shooting George Hall had bought a pair of pistols, some gunpowder and four bullets. The shopkeeper’s assistant identified the prisoner as the purchaser of these items. The coroner asked Hall if he would like to make a statement, but he declined. On being asked to confirm this in writing, he explained that he was unable to do so because he could not write. The coroner’s officer showed him where to put his mark, whereupon he fainted again and had to be carried to his seat. Asked to declare their verdict, the foreman of the inquest jury stated ‘wilful murder’.

Birmingham Daily Gazette, 4 March 1864

George Hall’s trial at the Assizes

Hall was held at Warwick gaol until his case came before the assize court. Meanwhile a George Hall Defence Fund was established by wealthy sympathisers to ensure he had good legal representation. The packed court listened with breathless attention as Hall’s barrister summed up the case for the defence. Emphasising George’s adoration of his young wife, he described his anguish when he learnt of her infidelity.

This speech caused some of those in court to weep, but the judge was unmoved. The jury retired for just fifteen minutes before returning with their verdict – guilty of murder, but with a recommendation for mercy on account of the provocation received.

The prisoner was then asked if he had anything to say. In a voice tremulous with emotion and at times almost inaudible, George Hall proceeded to tell his side of the story:

‘I have kept company with her for seven years and a half, and during that time there is no man on this earth that loved a girl as I did her, but she loved another all the time. I married her. She said she had no home she could dwell in. I said, “Sarah, I have a good home.” She said, “George, if you will give me only a chair and a stool, I will dwell with you to the day of my death.” I did whatever I could, and only God in heaven knows what I did. I got what I could for a home, and it was my own home, only that all in it did not belong to me, but she left me.

Greatly moved, many women in the galleries sobbed audibly and some of the men buried their faces in their handkerchiefs. The judge then donned the black cap and pronounced the terrible sentence:

‘George Hall, the jury have found you guilty of the crime of wilful murder, and they have accompanied it with a recommendation to mercy, which I shall transmit to the proper quarter. But I have no power to hold out hopes which I fear would only be delusive. You must prepare to die.’

Petitioning for mercy

Over the following days more stories emerged in the press of Sarah Hall’s ill-treatment of her husband and his patient efforts to placate her. An army of volunteers worked tirelessly to collect signatures on a petition to the Home Secretary urging him to commute the sentence. More than 62,000 signatures were collected, equivalent to four-fifths of Birmingham’s adult male population, including the mayor and the town’s two MPs.

In an extraordinary twist, even Sarah Hall’s mother and grandmother joined the chorus. The letter carrying their marks said they had always had the greatest respect and affection for George Hall, were now plunged into grief by his capital sentence and prayed that his life might be saved.

Hopes were raised, only to be dashed when it was announced that the Home Secretary  considered the evidence showed that the murder was deliberate and pre-meditated. So preparations were made for Hall’s execution on 15th March. The night before, he was given the last sacrament and received a final visit from his parents and Sarah Hall’s mother and brother. He was resigned to his fate, confident he would meet his wife in heaven. The scaffold was erected, the hangman was ready, and a small crowd of onlookers began to assemble outside the gaol.

Then came an astonishing development. The Mayor of Birmingham was informed that Warwick gaol had been ordered to halt the execution. At the very last moment George Hall’s sentence had been commuted by the Home Office. There was great rejoicing in Birmingham that his life was saved.

The Birmingham Journal, 12 March 1864

For more information on this and other coroner’s tales, see Probing Deaths, Saving Lives

Tragic death of Caroline Arnold: effects of poverty in Victorian Birmingham

A late night by the fire

Caroline Arnold was just 12 when she burnt to death at home on May 11th, 1857, the whole event being witnessed by her elder sister, Ann. An intelligent girl of 14, Ann was a key witness at the inquest. She gave the Birmingham coroner, Dr John Birt Davies, a clear description of the terrible event.

The girls’ mother, who had recently given birth, had gone to bed early feeling unwell. Later, their father joined his wife upstairs, telling his daughters to bolt the door and follow him up. But Ann, concerned about her mother, decided to stay up in case she needed a cup of tea in the night. She persuaded Caroline to stay downstairs to keep her company.

The two girls settled down to sew by the fireside. The room was lit by a single candle placed on a chair. At about half past four in the morning, Ann felt unable to stay awake any longer. She put out the candle, laid her head on the chair and fell asleep. Meanwhile Caroline, still awake, crept closer to the dying embers of the fire to keep warm.

Half an hour later Ann was woken by screams. Caroline’s clothes were ablaze. Ann scrambled to douse the flames, but to no avail. Caroline, in a panic, rushed to get outside, causing the flames to burn stronger and in the process setting the curtains alight. Burning fragments covered her body. Their father, wakened by the girls’ screams, leapt out of bed, grabbing a sack to smother the flames. He then picked up Caroline and ran with her in his arms to the local hospital. She was immediately treated by a surgeon, but his efforts were in vain, and she died a few hours later.

Family by the Fireside, after Sir David Wilkie, RA, 1785-1841 [Wellcome Collection]

The coroner’s recommendation

Since his election as Birmingham’s borough coroner in 1839, Birt Davies had been very concerned about the high rate of child deaths. Meticulous in his record-keeping, he looked for patterns in the deaths he had investigated to identify causes and preventive strategies. In his first year in office, more than one-third of the cases involved deaths from severe burns. His analysis showed that these deaths occurred most often in families where the main breadwinner was employed in a ‘humble’ or artisan job, so death by burning was closely linked to poverty.  Almost all the deaths occurred when no adult was present. The household fire was often the origin of the blaze but burns caused by candles were also common. But he noticed another significant fact – girls were more likely to die from burns than boys.

A typical back-to-back house had one fireplace in the small living room, where most activities took place. Clothes dried by the fire, and valuables were placed on the mantelpiece. Children were particularly vulnerable when reaching for an article, risking their clothes igniting. The coroner noticed that more often than not the offending garment was the pinafore or apron that many girls wore over their dresses.

In his annual report to the borough council, Birt Davies recommended taking measures to mitigate the risks faced by girls. He suggested the council should subsidise the cost of less flammable woollen materials to make safer pinafores accessible for low-income families. A year later, he reiterated this recommendation, expressing his dissatisfaction that no action had yet been taken to address this tragic, preventable loss of life.

Birt Davies served as coroner for 36 years, overseeing 30,000 inquests. He advocated for Birmingham’s poor and fearlessly confronted injustices during the whole of his long career, often challenging bureaucracy. This earned him some enemies among the wealthy and powerful, but he also gained many admirers.  

For more information on this and other coroner’s tales, see Probing Deaths, Saving Lives

The Perils of Pseudo-Science in 19th Century Medicine

Medical science had not advanced very far by the early nineteenth century. However, doctors had begun to organise themselves into self-regulating professional groups. These groups claimed their formal learning was superior. They dismissed the many alternative practitioners who made a living peddling unorthodox cures. Lack of affordable treatments often drove desperate patients into the arms of these ‘quacks’, occasionally with disastrous results.   

The quack

There was no shortage of self-appointed health gurus promoting pseudo-scientific ideas about disease causation and treatment. One such was Albert Isaiah Coffin. He was an American herbalist who came to Britain in 1832. There, he published his popular Botanic Guide to Health. This book, and the Medical Botanic Society that he founded, appealed to many Birmingham residents. Their hopes were raised by his encouragement to practise self-help instead of relying on orthodox practitioners. He also promoted his patent medicine made from lobelia and cayenne, claiming it would cure almost any disease.

Albert Isaiah Coffin, mezzotint by H. B. Hall after Charpentier [Wellcome Collection]

Death of Hannah Flowers

On 1st April 1848, a canal worker by the name of Flowers returned home. He found Hannah, his wife, ill and suffering from paralysis on the right side of her body. This occurred following an injury to her face. A devoted member of the Medical Botanic Society, Flowers sought the help of one of his colleagues. Together, they prepared some herbal remedies using recipes in Coffin’s book. Hannah seemed to rally briefly but then collapsed into a much worse state. Her husband did not call a doctor. He was confident the herbal medicine – a combination of capsicum and lobelia – would work. He wanted to give it time to do so, but sadly, her condition deteriorated rapidly and she died.

Dr Birt Davies, the Birmingham coroner, was asked to hold an inquest into Hannah’s death. He ordered an autopsy. This concluded she had contracted lockjaw (tetanus) due to her injury. The failure to treat it properly led to her death from apoplexy (stroke). The herbal remedy she had been given was entirely inappropriate for her condition.

Birt Davies severely reprimanded Flowers for experimenting on his wife and for failing to call in qualified medical help. He publicly warned Coffin and his followers that they must face the consequences if any other deaths ensued.

Tragically this was not the last occasion on which Birt Davies came across deaths resulting from reliance on Coffin’s remedies. Two years later he had to oversee inquests into two such cases in a single month, both involving babies. In both cases, the baby’s parents had administered the useless remedies, so had to take the blame. But Birt Davies believed the quacks who had promoted these remedies held the criminal responsibility. This conclusion was deeply frustrating for him because there was little he could do legally to hold them to account.

The Sick Child, chromolithograph after Joseph Clark, 1875 [Wellcome Collection]

For more information on this and other coroner’s tales, see Probing Deaths, Saving Lives

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