Florence Maybrick
Introduction
Whether or not her husband was, in fact, Jack the Ripper,
Florie Maybrick herself holds a certain notoriety in the annals of
crime history. Even before the emergence of the infamous diary,
her trial was the subject of many volumes of work, mostly
pertaining to the allegations of gross incompetence and negligence
displayed throughout the trial by the presiding Justice Stephen.
Found guilty, sentenced to death, having had her sentence commuted
to life imprisonment only days before her execution, and finally
having been released after fifteen years, her story is a
fascinating one in and of itself, and should be just as appealing
to any crime historian as the story of the man her husband
allegedly claimed to have been.
Prelude to the Trial
As a result of his business, James Maybrick was often required to
travel abroad to America to conduct transactions. On one such
trip in 1881, he came across the path of a Florence Elizabeth
Chandler and the two quickly married. He was twenty-four years
her senior: he forty-two and she eighteen.
The daughter of a banker in Mobile Alabama, Florence (or
Florie as she preferred) was the archetypal Southern Belle
-- she was often described as being quite pleasing to the eye, but
her love of luxuries was more often destructive to her husband's
pocket. They moved to Liverpool in 1884 and were frequently known
to throw lavish parties at which she would most often be the focus
of attention. Such practices took their toll, however, and in
1887 James Maybrick admitted to his wife that they were in severe
financial trouble. He placed her on a strict budget, but Florie
reverted to borrowing against her jewelry and expected land
inheritance in America in order to maintain her lavish lifestyle
in the shops and at the racetrack. In a letter to her mother
written in that year she writes:
I am utterly worn out, and in such a state of overstrained
nervousness I am hardly fit for anything. Whenever the doorbell
rings I feel ready to faint for fear it is someone coming to have
an account paid, and when Jim comes home at night it is with fear
and trembling that I look into his face to see whether anyone has
been to the office about my bills... my life is a continual state
of fear of something or somebody... Is life worth living? I
would gladly give up the house tomorrow and move somewhere else
but Jim says it would ruin him outright.
Financial difficulties, however, were only the beginning. In that
same year, their son James contracted scarlet fever and barely
survived the ordeal. As a result, their daughter Gladys was sent
away so as not to catch the disease. Also, Florie's brother
Holbrook died in Paris, supposedly of consumption. And to top it
off, Florie began noticing her own husband's failing health, as
well as some strange powders lying around the house. It wasn't
long until she discovered her husband's dangerous drug habit
involving arsenic and strychnine use (both of which were used in
moderation as wonder tonics and aphrodisiacs).
Such behavior wasn't uncommon in Victorian England, but as with
any drug addiction, it was looked upon with disdain and mistrust.
Maybrick himself disclosed his using of the drugs to a few friends
and acquaintances, telling one of his associates around 1883, "You
would be horrified, I dare say, if you knew what this (powder) is
-- it is arsenic... We all take some poison more or less; for
instance, I am now taking arsenic enough to kill you. I take this
arsenic once in a while because I find it strengthens me." When
he learned that his wife had disclosed his abuse to one of his
brothers, however, he became quite angry and ordered her to "mind
her own business."
One final blow that came to Florie in that same year was her
discovery that James Maybrick was allotting the sum of over one
hundred pounds per year to a mistress he had been keeping for the
past twenty or so years. When she confronted him about the fact,
he seemed impassionate and showed very little compunction. From
then until the death of James Maybrick, the couple slept in
separate chambers.
In the autumn of 1888, Florie Maybrick extracted her own measure
of revenge against her husband by turning her attention toward a
younger cotton broker named Alfred Brierly. She herself began an
affair, but was more easily discovered than her husband, for it is
suspected that he discovered the infidelity in December of that
year. According to Florie in a letter written to her mother, he
violently tore up his will which bestowed everything upon her and
vowed to make their children the sole recipients. It is
speculation, however, that this was because Maybrick discovered
his wife's affair -- it very well might have been a number of
other things.
The reason her affair might have been discovered so easily was the
simple fact that she was so shamelessly open about it (a fact
which leads many to conclude that the affair was motivated more by
revenge than by any corporeal desire). In March 1889, she booked
a hotel room for her and Brierly under the names "Mr. and Mrs.
Thomas Maybrick," her brother- and sister-in-law. As Hartman
writes in Victorian Murderesses, this act was propelled
either by "monumental stupidity or blatant calculation." For on
the one hand it would seem a terrible mistake to use the name of
the brother of her husband, unless of course the entire incident
was an attempt (remember her motivation of revenge) to elicit a
response from her husband, perhaps even for him to file for a
divorce. Regardless, Maybrick didn't mention anything that would
lead anyone to believe he knew about the incident.
Later that month, however, Maybrick's knowledge of the entire
affair became quite apparent. At a gathering at the Grand
National steeplechase, Maybrick made a scene when Florie walked
off for a moment with Brierly. Later that night, at home in
Battlecrease, the home lived up to it's belligerent name. The
couple had an intense falling out, and the topic of infidelity was
risen by both of them. When Florie threatened to leave the house,
Maybrick grabbed her, ripping her dress, and blackened her eye.
The servants then intervened, and with the help of a family friend
and doctor, the couple reconciled their differences. Maybrick
agreed to pay off her debts in total and she agreed to break all
relations with Brierly.
Neither fulfilled their obligations, however. Soon after that
incident, Maybrick became quite ill, and his condition was quite
serious by the end of April. He complained of headaches and of a
coldness in the limbs, and in the weeks of late April and early
May abdominal and gastrointestinal problems began to arise.
Doctors were called in from all over London, prescribing countless
drugs and tonics in order to ameliorate his condition.
A little earlier (in about mid-April) Florie purchased a good
number of flypapers and proceeded to soak them in a sink. She
claimed to have had "an eruption of the face," and wanted to
extract the arsenic from the flypaper in order to formulate a
facial cream which would clear up the problem in time for a ball
she was attending in late April. Indeed, arsenic was a common
home remedy for skin problems, but it was difficult to come by the
poison -- a common practice was to soak flypaper in order to
extract it. The entire staff of Battlecrease noticed the soaking
papers, as Florie made no moves to hide them.
Maybrick's condition continued to worsen throughout the first few
days of May and throughout Florie was by his side. Between her
nervous attitude throughout the ordeal, her soaking of the
flypapers, and the recent events concerning Brierly, suspicion
began to arise among the nurse (Alice Yapp) that Florie was
poisoning him. So on May 8th, after being informed by Yapp, a
friend of the Maybricks' named Mrs. Briggs telegraphed to both
brothers Michael and Edwin, "Come at once; strange things going on
here." That same day, Florie (still unaware of the rising
suspicion) handed Alice Yapp a letter to be posted, addressed, "A.
Brierly, Esq." Instead of doing so, she opened it and read the
contents, immediately divulging the information to Michael
Maybrick. Upon reading the letter, Michael ordered no one but the
nurses to wait upon his brother, and finally Florie began to
realize the rising suspicion growing around her.
The letter was in answer to one received two days earlier from
Brierly, which read:
My Dear Florie -- I suppose now you have gone I am safe in
writing to you. I don't quite understand what you mean in your
last about explaining my line of action. You know I could not
write, and was willing to meet you, although it would have been
very dangerous. Most certainly your telegram yesterday was a
staggerer, and it looks as if the result was certain, but as yet I
cannot find an advertisement in any London paper.
I should like to see you, but at the present dare not move, and we
had better perhaps not meet until late in the autumn. I am going
to try and get away in about a fortnight. I think I shall take a
round trip to the Mediterranean, which will take six or seven
weeks, unless you wish me to stay in England. Supposing the rooms
are found, I think both you and I would be better away, as the
man's memory would be doubted after three months. I will write
and tell you when I go. I cannot trust myself at present to write
about my feelings on this unhappy business, but I do hope that
some time hence I shall be able to show you that I do not quite
deserve the strictures contained in your last two letters. I went
to the D. and D., and, of course, heard some tales, but myself
knew nothing about anything. And now, dear, "Good-bye," hoping we
shall meet in the autumn. I will write to you about sending
letters just before I go.
A.B.
The letter which was intercepted by Nurse Yapp (sent from Florie
to Alfred Brierly) reads:
Dearest -- Your letter under cover to John K. came to hand just
after I had written to you on Monday. I did not expect to hear
from you so soon, and had delayed in giving him the necessary
instructions. Since my return I have been nursing M. day and
night. He is sick unto death. The doctors held a consultation
yesterday, and now all depends upon how long his strength will
hold out. Both my brothers-in-law are here, and we are terribly
anxious. I cannot answer your letter fully to-day, my darling,
but relieve your mind of all fear of discovery now and in the
future. M. has been delirious since Sunday, and I know now that
he is perfectly ignorant of everything, even of the name of the
street, and also that he has not been making any inquiries
whatever. The tale he told me was a pure fabrication, and only
intended to frighten the truth out of me. In fact he believes my
statement, although he will not admit it. You need not therefore
go abroad on that account, dearest; but, in any case, please don't
leave England until I have seen you once again. You must feel
that those two letters of mine were written under circumstances
which must even excuse their injustice in your eyes. Do you
suppose that I could act as I am doing if I really felt and meant
what I inferred then? If you wish to write to me about anything
do so now, as all the letters pass through my hands at present.
Excuse this scrawl, my own darling, but I dare not leave the room
for a moment, and I do not know when I shall be able to write to
you again. In haste, yours ever.
Florie
The next morning (May 9th) Florie approached Alice Yapp and said,
"Do you know that I am blamed for this?" The nurse replied, "For
what?," to which Florie answered, "For Maybrick's illness." This
is the first incident in which Florie lets on that she is aware of
the suspicion growing around her. Later that day, the food and
water, as well as the feces and urine of the patient were taken
away and examined by doctors for traces of arsenic. They found
none.
That night, however, the incident of the meat juice occurred.
Edwin (Maybrick's brother) had procured the juice as a
pharmaceutical and the nurses were under orders to administer it
to the patient. Around midnight, Nurse Gore was waiting on
Maybrick when Florie entered the room and took a bottle of
Valentine's meat juice into the washroom where she was sleeping.
She closed the door behind her, and emerged some minutes later,
returning to the sick room and requesting that Nurse Gore leave to
get some ice to cool her husband's forehead. The nurse refused
and observed Mrs. Maybrick "surreptitiously" placed the bottle of
meat juice on the nightstand. The bottle was taken away the next
day at the urging of Nurse Gore and doctors found half a grain of
arsenic in the juice.
On Friday the 10th, Michael Maybrick saw Florie moving medicine
from one small bottle to a larger one. He protested, "Florie, how
dare you tamper with the medicine?," to which she replied that
there was too much sediment in the small bottle so she moved it
into a larger bottle so that it could be shaken up properly. The
bottle was later analyzed, however, and no traces of arsenic were
found. Later that day, Nurse Callery over heard Maybrick say to
his wife, "You have given me the wrong medicine again." Florie
replied, "What are you talking about? You never had wrong
medicine." Around six that evening, Maybrick was heard to have
said three times, "Oh, Bunny, Bunny, how could you do it? I did
not think it of you!" Florie replied simply, "You silly old
darling, don't trouble your head about things."
That night, a search was made of the house primarily by the
Maybrick brothers and the domestics in order to find some evidence
of Mrs. Maybrick's guilt. Alice Yapp found a sealed envelope
labelled "Arsenic -- poison for cats," as well as five bottles, a
container of Valentine's meat juice, a rag, a glass, and a
handkerchief. The first contained large amounts of arsenic, while
the others carried either small or trace amounts -- enough arsenic
was found in that house, it is said, to have killed fifty people
(two grains being enough to kill one man).
By Saturday, May 11th, it became painfully clear that Maybrick
would not survive the night. Florie had fallen into a swoon that
afternoon which would last another twenty-four hours -- she would
be bed-ridden until the 18th. By the time she had regained
consciousness, her husband was dead.
On the 13th, a post-mortem was held in which it was concluded that
death was "due to inflammation of the stomach and bowels set up by
some irritant poison." On the 14th, Florie, still lying ill in
bed, was informed that she was in custody under suspicion of
murder. Frightened and confused, Florie complained to Mrs. Briggs
that she had no money with which to contact her friends. She
replied, "in sarcasm," that she should write to Brierly. Florie
took the suggestion at face value and wrote to him immediately,
saying:
I am writing to you to give me every assistance in your power
in my present fearful trouble. I am in custody, without any of my
family with me, and without money. I have cabled to my solicitor
in New York to come here at once. In the meantime, send some
money for present needs. The truth is known about my visit to
London. Your last letter is in the hands of the police.
Appearances may be against me, but before God I swear I am
innocent.
The letter never reached Brierly, and, like the previous one,
ended up in the hands of the police. On the 18th, a magistrate
visited Florence at Battlecrease and opened an investigation, at
the end of which he ordered her to be removed to Walton Jail. At
the inquest on the 28th, Florie was represented by Mr. William
Pickford, barrister.
The Inquest and Hearing
The official coroner's inquest began on May 14th, and was adjourned to
the 28th after formal identification of the body. The hearing heard
evidence from the chemists who sold Mrs. Maybrick the flypapers, and
testimony from the nurses and servants, as well as that of a certain Mrs.
Samuelson. This witness mysteriously disappeared before the trial, but
she presented testimony at the inquest that Mrs. Maybrick told her she hated
her husband about two weeks before the incident at Grand National
steeplechase.
