Maul and the Pear Tree: Ratcliffe Highway Murders, 1811

by P.D. James

The mystery writer and a police historian draw on original research to reconstruct the crimes known as the Radcliffe Highway murders, a series of particularly brutal murders that shocked Regency London

Genres: True Crime, Nonfiction, History, Mystery, Crime, Historical, 19th Century

368 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1971

About the author

P. D. James, byname of Phyllis Dorothy James White, Baroness James of Holland Park, (born August 3, 1920, Oxford, Oxfordshire, England—died November 27, 2014, Oxford), British mystery novelist best known for her fictional detective Adam Dalgliesh of Scotland Yard.

The daughter of a middle-grade civil servant, James grew up in the university town of Cambridge. Her formal education, however, ended at age 16 because of lack of funds, and she was thereafter self-educated. In 1941 she married Ernest C.B. White, a medical student and future physician, who returned home from wartime service mentally deranged and spent much of the rest of his life in psychiatric hospitals. To support her family (which included two children), she took work in hospital administration and, after her husband’s death in 1964, became a civil servant in the criminal section of the Department of Home Affairs. Her first mystery novel, Cover Her Face (1962), introduced Dalgliesh and was followed by six more mysteries before she retired from government service in 1979 to devote full time to writing.

Dalgliesh, James’s master detective who rises from chief inspector in the first novel to chief superintendent and then to commander, is a serious, introspective person, moralistic yet realistic. The novels in which he appears are peopled by fully rounded characters, who are civilized, genteel, and motivated. The public resonance created by James’s singular characterization and deployment of classic mystery devices led to most of the novels featuring Dalgliesh being filmed for television. James, who earned the sobriquet “Queen of Crime,” penned 14 Dalgliesh novels, with the last, The Private Patient, appearing in 2008.

James also wrote An Unsuitable Job for a Woman (1972) and The Skull Beneath the Skin (1982), which centre on Cordelia Gray, a young private detective. The first of these novels was the basis for both a television movie and a short-lived series. James expanded beyond the mystery genre in The Children of Men (1992; film 2006), which explores a dystopian world in which the human race has become infertile. Her final work, Death Comes to Pemberley (2011)—a sequel to Pride and Prejudice (1813)—amplifies the class and relationship tensions between Jane Austen’s characters by situating them in the midst of a murder investigation. James’s nonfiction works include The Maul and the Pear Tree (1971), a telling of the Ratcliffe Highway murders of 1811 written with historian T.A. Critchley, and the insightful Talking About Detective Fiction (2009). Her memoir, Time to Be in Earnest, was published in 2000. She was made OBE in 1983 and was named a life peer in 1991.

Reviews

[Nancy Oakes · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Ratcliffe Highway Murders of 1811 are beyond famous -- not just for the murders themselves, but for the ensuing panic that spread throughout much of London at the time which was written about by Thomas de Quincey in his On Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts. It was also this case that spurred the reading of crime in the newspapers as sensation among the general public . This book uses primary documents (some of which are printed in full) and other materials to not only recount these events, but also to examine the history of crime detection and policing to that point in time as well as the huge muddle that was the investigation into the murders.

Anyone at all interested in the history of London, the history and politics of policing in Britain, and historical true crime needs to read this book -- it's eye opening, to say the very least.

http://www.nonfictionrealstuff.com/20...

[Daisy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Over 200 years ago a brutal murder of a young family, including a baby only months old, followed swiftly by an equally violent murder of a publican and two other members of his household led to such an outcry that it became the catalyst for the formation of the police force we have today.
Do not read this book expecting the unveiling of the killer. James does well to avoid this – think of all the books written unmasking the identity of Jack the Ripper or the more recent Zodiac killer and how the author appears foolish in their certainty – although she does posit the idea that the man ascribed the murders was probably innocent and suggests a couple of other likely candidates as being worthy of a closer inspection. This is more a vivid description of life at the time in the East End dockyards of 1811 London. It is easy to imagine the world James describes, some of it modern seeming – shops being open till 10pm on a Saturday night, popping over the road for a late-night drink at the 1811 version of the offie.

The big difference we are supposed to notice is the attitude to solving crime but what struck me more was the huge shock and outrage at these murders and that a new system of policing was introduced on the back of it. We are always told that crime, especially violent crime is less prevalent today, that the past was a brutal, violent crime, but this gives lie to that assertion. Now these sorts of crimes are not infrequent and we have less police presence on the streets than ever. At this point as someone who has had over 5 vehicle thefts in a year, I am wondering whether a nightwatchman shaking a rattle as he goes on an hourly round is any less effective than a non-existent policeman.

Anyway, I digress. James is aware that the days of yore had none of our present crime-fighting technology but makes much of the fact that they failed to engage critical thinking skills or interview the right people. That they fitted the ‘facts’ and evidence to their suspect and created a spectacle of his punishment to appease the public’s rising demand for action. The irony is that this book was written in the early 1970s and if you look at numerous contemporary cases – the Birmingham 6, the Yorkshire Ripper etc the introduction of a professional police force did not stop this happening. In fact, the only thing that has made this type of framing rarer is the introduction of DNA testing.

So, in short this is an interesting read as a piece of history but rather a case of the man offering to take the speck out his brother’s eye while failing to notice the beam in his own when it comes to discussion of policing. The improvements are not as great as James would like to believe and at least 200 years ago they got to play Bumble-puppy.

[Quirkyreader · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a true crime from the year 1811. Way before the Peelers and Bobbies. But there were the Bow Street Runners. In this one an see the way how the citizens of London weren't too keen on a police force, even though a series of grizzly murders had just happened.

For me, the story of the murder was secondary. I was more fascinated with the distrust of the police force and how people would tramp all over crime scenes wrecking any form of evidence.

If one enjoys the history of crime detection, I would say that this book is a winner. Thanks to the late P.D. James and T.A. Critchley for giving us this one.

[scarlettraces · Rating 5 out of 5]

it's about the ratcliffe highway murders of 1811, which form part of the moore/sinclair/ackroyd london mythos and which i knew very little about. it's pretty much a model for this sort of thing - a narrative of events combined with a precise evocation of the social and physical context (there's a lot of lovely description of the wapping docks area in a bleak december at the beginning of the 19th century, presumably contributed by James) with some modern commentary about the evidence and the handling of the case. probably what i found most interesting, after a century of moors murderers and the wests and dahmer and his disgusting ilk, and even massacres in little beachside towns in my own quiet country, is how shocked and gripped the country at the time was by it.

the 1971 postscript was also interesting in that it points up the pace of change. it was still possible to imaginatively identify the locales back then, 160 years later, even though houses had disappeared under new building and bombsites. although the road lay-out is probably the same, i bet it's more difficult today, 40 years after that.

(5 stars for sheer competence and readability)

[Lee Battersby · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely stunning treatise on a pair of murders that are at the heart of the creation of the British policing system as it is today, and which remain an historical mystery of the highest water. Co-authors James and Critchley draw on a multitude of contemporary sources to follow both the social and policing trails through Wapping and surrounding areas, and the picture painted in vibrant, well-rounded and utterly believable. gaps in the historical record are clearly identified, judgements drawn by the authors are both precise and logically justified, and the book displays both James' narrative excellence and Critchley's extensive knowledge as a police historian. Gripping from first to last, and utterly compelling to read, this is a true crime book as it should be written, and remains, after over 40 years, an example of the very highest standard.

[Katherine Addison · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Maul and the Pear Tree is about two horrific crimes in 1811: two houses invaded, the inhabitants beaten to death with a maul or a ripping chisel, and then their throats cut, and all for no apparent reason (one of the victims was a three-month-old baby, so it's hard to imagine a pressing motive). James and Critchley (on the book's original publication in 1971, it was Critchley and James, but that was another country, and besides the wench is dead) doubt the guilt of the man arrested for the crimes, John Williams, and edge toward conspiracy theory in their suggestion that his suicide in his cell, before he could be brought to trial, was actually murder. They don't go to the elaborate lengths of the crazier Ripperologists, since their suggestion is that the true murderer bribed a turnkey to get into Williams' cell, and then the investigation was dropped because the magistrates (a.) pounced on a dead scapegoat and then (b.) couldn't afford any retrograde motion. They needed to be seen to have solved the case.

I remain somewhat unconvinced. I'm not convinced of Williams' guilt, mind you, but James and Critchley just don't persuade me that their alternate theory is the truth. I'm not sure if it's due to the fact that, having been written for a popular audience in 1971, the book has no endnotes and the rigor of the inquiry has been carefully muffled, or if it's that I found the writing curiously flat. So I agree that the investigation should not have stopped after Williams' death, but beyond that I'm not willing to go.

On the other hand, the book was worth the price for the description of the procession of Williams' corpse through the streets of Wapping and its burial, with a stake through its heart, at the crossroads of New Cannon Street and Cable Street.

ETA (02/14/16): having reread The Maul & the Pear Tree for what I think is at least the third time, I can offer a better explanation of why I don't believe James & Critchley. When you read carefully and attentively, it becomes painfully clear how much of their theory about the murders is based on pure, airy speculation. Their argument is full of scaffolding: "probably," "there is little doubt," "there is no reason to suppose," "may well have been," "it is virtually certain." They present many of their hypotheses as rhetorical questions, which--by assuming the reader's answer--make it easier for the hypothesis to pass as fact. And they treat a number of their speculations as if they are, in fact, proved rather than merely proffered.

When you clear away all the rhetoric, their theory (William Ablass and a confederate who was possibly Cornelius Hart) isn't really any more plausible than the theory that Williams was the sole killer. (Saying that your chosen murderer is a "psychopath" only pushes the problem of motive one tier back: if he's a "psychopath," by which you mean a person who kills indiscriminately and without motive, why are these the only two brutal butchering murders he's committed?)

Crime solving, like criminological historiography (i.e., true crime writing), and like both prosecution and defense in the American judicial system, is trying to find a story--a narrative linked together by cause and effect and strong enough to hold up when inspected by both common sense and fault-finding scrutiny--that will fit the facts. The more facts you can incorporate, the stronger your story will be. The Ratcliffe Highway murders resist narrative--the only way to make a story out of them is to follow De Quincey and assume that Williams was a sort of Iago-like villain, doing evil simply because he could. (Or follow James & Critchley and assume Ablass as our Iago.) And even that isn't really satisfactory.

Stripped down, the problems of the Ratcliffe Highway murders go like this:

1. The evidence available at this remove is spotty at best, so any theory you present is going to be tentative and full of hypotheticals:
(a.) Our forensic evidence is based on the observations made and recorded by untrained observers (not necessarily even doctors) in December 1811. QED.
(b.) The rest of the evidence is eyewitness testimony and hearsay. James & Critchley were writing before the UTTER USELESSNESS of eyewitness testimony had been demonstrated, but as a reader in 2016, I have to admit that most of what we've got is either inadmissible or would be torn to shreds by any defense attorney whose law degree was worth the paper it was written on.

2. The murderer or murderers butchered the entire Marr household (Timothy Marr, his wife Celia, his apprentice James Gowan, and the 3 month old Timothy, Jr.--sparing the servant Margaret Jewell because she had been sent to buy oysters) on the night of December 7 and John Williamson (yes, the alleged murderer is John Williams, and one of his victims is John Williamson--real life gets to be confusing like that), his wife Elizabeth, and their servant Bridget Harrington (sparing the Willliamsons' granddaughter Kitty Stillwell and their lodger John Turner, who were lucky enough to be in their bedrooms abovestairs) on the night of December 19. Nobody before and nobody after. Why the Marrs? why the Williamsons? There is evidence that strongly suggests both households were reconnoitered before the attack (in the Marrs' case, if Hart was in on the job, possibly for as much as a week), so they're not just random crimes of opportunity. James & Critchley try to show why Ablass might have had a grudge against Williams, and they try a little sub rosa substitutive rhetoric to make it look like the grudge against Williams could be translated to a grudge against Marr, but they can't suggest a motive for murdering the Williamsons. So if the murderer was "sane," what motive did he have, not just for the murders, but for the overkill involved--literally in the case of the Marrs' baby? And if he was ".insane," a "psychopath," why are these the only two killing sprees he went on?

3. Some of the evidence against Williams was clearly manufactured by the grudge-holding John Harrison (the entire story of the French knife is as full of holes as a chain-link fence), but that only means that some of our evidence is beyond untrustworthy into outright falsity--but we don't know which evidence. Some of Harrison's testimony? All of Harrison's testimony? How about the other lodgers? What about the terrified and equivocating landlady, Mrs. Vermilloe? At what remove from Harrison can we start trusting that our witnesses are doing their best to tell the truth?

4. Real life murders can never be made into a clean narrative. There are always inconsistencies, gaps in the timeline, demonstrable facts that make no sense. I find that I can't judge, in this case, which facts have to be incorporated into the narrative and which facts can be dismissed as bogeys, sundogs, and (to quote my favorite X-Files episode) the planet Venus. Because all of the facts look crazy.

To my knowledge, nobody has written about the Ratcliffe Highway murders since James & Critchley. If I were a true crime writer, I would take that challenge.

[Christine · Rating 2 out of 5]

It took three tries over five years to actually finish this book. And I like P.D. James. It is interesting, a bit, eventually, but the tone is rather dull. What is mostly intersting is the look at English Anti-Irish feeling at the time.

[Cleopatra Pullen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Why are murders committed in the East End of London in 1811 still of interest over 200 years later? Well the brutal murders of two entire households are in part, at least, responsible for the birth of the Police Service that we have today.

One December night in 1811 an intruder entered the Marrs Draper store and murdered all the occupants including Timothy Marr the owner’s baby son. The only member of the household to survive was the servant Margaret Jewell who had been running an errand for oysters at just before midnight. Ratcliffe Highway was in the East End which led to the intersection between two other main roads. The area was watched by the night watchmen but he missed the entry of the intruder and help was only called when Margaret, having returned empty-handed, was locked out of her home.

This murder alone caused enough consternation between the locals, particularly as anyone with stained or torn clothes were arrested and seemingly just as quickly released by the complicated separate three police forces that had responsibility for the area. When another household were slain action and more importantly reform was called for.

The authors wrote this book in 1971 when interestingly T.A. Critchley, a Police Historian, name preceded that of the now much loved writer P.D. James. This book isn’t of the ilk of The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, the writing coming across as much more scholarly in the more traditional format of the known facts being presented with the alternative solution to the murderer being presented in the latter part of the book. Despite extensive research it appears that not a lot of the facts survive although there are plenty of contemporary accounts as the murders fed the imagination of the population well outside the East End of London. In addition there were no detectives and those charged with enforcing the police were by all accounts open to bribes or pressure from those far more powerful than them. In order to proceed to the conclusion the reader needs to wade through quite a dense prose which isn’t written with the lightest of touches. There was a feeling that some points were overly emphasised in order to persuade the reader of their truth and to be honest I don’t believe there are enough facts to accurately surmise what happened that night.

What makes this book worthwhile is the social history that accompanies the dreadful facts. The authors do a fantastic job of describing this area of Wapping with its shipyards and shadowy streets where the shops and public houses opened well into the night. The boarding houses that were temporary homes for the sailors when they were on shore and the petty rivalries and jealousies that breed in such situations. The women who when making statements were perhaps carrying out their husband’s bidding were carrying out their pre-ordained roles, the fact that those who should have been depended upon in such an event were perhaps sleeping (or worse) while earning their pittance of a wage all played a part on those December nights.

So what did I make of the author’s conclusion? It seemed plausible based on the little known facts and I concur that the murderer probably wasn’t the man who was blamed for the crimes. But of course the lasting legacy was the recognition that England needed something a bit more substantial and accountable than those currently policing the country.

I’m glad I know more about this oft referenced crime, I now understand why it is still mentioned so frequently and as a bonus I finally have an idea where The Ratcliffe Highway is, why the maul was important, and what a maul is!!

[Les Wilson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don’t normally like true life crime but was led to this book by the fact that it was written by P. D. James. Interesting but not impressive.

[Anwen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this a surprising little book. First of all, a disclaimer. I do not like P.D. James's crime novels. Imagine my surprise when I found her name amongst factual books on London. This was the main reason I picked this book up - after all, the title conveyed nothing to me (other than the thought the book had been miscatalogued). Then the subtitle caught my eye - Ratcliffe Highway Murders. I have been fascinated by these murders since the first time I read about them. So I bought the book - and I was pleasanty surprised. The style that jars on me in fiction I found eminently suitable for an impersonal reconstruction of an ancient crime. I found the research and summary more than believable and, Ripperologists take note, it was refreshing to see the admission that, even after all the work that was put in by the authors, we shall probably never know what really did happen more than two hundred years ago. A lovely litttle book that wears its knowledge lightly, and a fantastic introduction to one of London's most notorious murders - and the rough justice meted out to suicides and murderers at the time (the Crossroads Burial was far from unique though it was, I believe, one of the last instances in London). In a word - recommended!

[Wanda · Rating 4 out of 5]

30 OCT 2020 - at times this read like an attorney's brief - fact-filled, tedious, swarming in theory, and a bit noisy with the voice of a small child jumping up and down saying, "Listen to me! Listen to me!" I have researched, typed, and proofread enough briefs to know this to be true but ... amongst the words, the not overly exciting bringing forth of facts into written form ... lies an interesting and compelling story worth reading.

In The Maul and The Pear Tree, we are taken for a journey through a time in London when police distrust ran rampant. And, one is left wondering if the conviction, of a dead man who could not defend himself, was done more to quiet the multitudes rather than to truly capture the individual/s guilty of the crime. As presented by James and Critchley, John Williams may not have been as guilty as originally thought.

I do recommend this because the subject matter is true crime and fact is oftentimes more unbelievable that any fiction.

The BBC series Whitechapel (catch it on Hulu - Season 3 Episodes 1 & 2) devotes two episodes a modern-day crime committed which mimic the Ratcliffe Highway Murders. The Ratcliffe Highway Murders may never truly be solved.

Enjoy!

[Lisa · Rating 2 out of 5]

I love history and mysteries by PD James so this seemed a winner. It hasn’t aged well. Great use of primary sources to try to solve a 200 year old mystery but just too clunky to recommend to anyone. And no real so what.

[Abigail · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ratcliffe Highway, East End of London, December 1811. Two households gruesomely murdered in their homes, in two separate attacks, 12 days apart. Unbridled panic ensued. With no organised police force, the investigation was clumsy and inadequate. A culprit was apprehended (well, one of several dozen, it seemed), and the case was eventually dropped after his suicide in custody. This is a thorough and balanced look at the case - which raises plenty of questions.

Almost too shocking and grisly to be believed, the opening quote from De Quincey, which refers to Williams' crime, definitely sums it up:

All other murders look pale by the deep crimson of his."

First, a criticism: several sections verged on being dry. The reproductions of contemporary reports and letters slowed the pace and sometimes took a bit more effort to understand the meaning. But these primray sources were crucial, because very little documentary evidence survives.

Part way through, I realised that I didn't find the fictionalisation or speculation as annoying as I had in Did She Kill Him? . In fact, this read far more like a murder mystery than a true crime novel.

Maybe it was the historical setting, or the academic tone which set it apart. The area surrounding the Ratcliffe Highway, its flow of residents, and its businesses were all described wonderfully. The social history side of this book was just as fascinating (if not moreso) as the crime itself.

The closing chapters finished it all off nicely: alternative (and more plausible) theories, the impact on 19th century policing and the judicial system, and the redevelopment of the area. But, as the authors note, after more than 150 years (more than 200 years, now) we will almost certainly never know the true culprit, or be any more able to unravel the actual events of December 1811.

[Lobstergirl · Rating 3 out of 5]

(Contains spoilers, but no more than appear on the book flap.)

Mystery writer P.D. James and police historian and Home Office member T.A. Critchley co-wrote this true-crime account of London's Ratcliffe Highway murders of 1811, in which seven people, including an infant, were brutally bludgeoned in two separate events over a two-week period. Crime-fighting was organized by parish, and constables were volunteer. They were supplemented by watchmen and beadles who were susceptible to bribes. It wasn't until 1829 that a Metropolitan Police force was created. For all sorts of reasons - carelessness, incompetence, lack of crime investigation infrastructure - the investigation culminated in the jailing of the wrong person, James and Critchley argue. Some eyewitness accounts were given credence, others weren't. A thorough examination of the murder weapon wasn't done. Exculpatory evidence was ignored. It was unlikely that one person could have acted alone in committing the two groups of killings.

John Williams, the man arrested for the crimes, was found hanged in his prison cell before he could stand trial. The authors argue it was an unlikely suicide and call Williams "the eighth victim." Nonetheless, as if he had been condemned to die and executed, the authorities ignominiously paraded his corpse on a cart through the streets and buried him at a crossroads (in a grave too small, so that he would not be able to lie in peace).

This is no Helter Skelter. It's extremely dry, with long, wendy passages lifted directly from contemporaneous newspaper accounts and Home Office papers. Only 234 pages, it feels like more.

[Deanne · Rating 4 out of 5]

In 1811 two episodes of multiple murder took place in London within a short space of time. At that instant there was no organised police force, and what there was in the way of night watchmen were fairly ineffectual. However people were rounded up and questioned, though usually held on flimsy evidence.
James gives a balanced look at the story, including questioning the ultimate result of the hunt for the killer/s.

[Richard Howard · Rating 3 out of 5]

A fascinating and thorough analysis of the horrifying murders of the Marr & Williamson families in 1811. The authors examine both the evidence and forensics with a contemporary eye and find much to criticise and dispute, including - most importantly - the guilt of the alleged murderer. And it is difficult not to agree with them. Even given the poor state of criminal analysis at the time this was a very poorly handled case with contradictory evidence and flimsy alibis abounding. Even today the sheer violence of the crimes shocks.

[Clare · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really interesting read. Originally published in 1971, but republished in 2010. I picked it up because it was referenced in The English Monster by Lloyd Shepherd which we read in book club years ago. It also interested me because of how much Wapping/Shadwell has changed between 1971 and now as much as for the details on the murders.

[Windy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Interesting reconstruction of a crime investigation from 1811 which demonstrates how difficult such investigations were without a police force and how much depended on people's opinions and heresay

[Gary Southwell · Rating 4 out of 5]

my book had 363 pages and I thought it was very good , very thorough in the cases involved ( even if evidence was a little sparse) would definitely recommend it

[Hbomb · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book will only be interesting to people who want to know specifically about the Ratcliff murders. Otherwise, it's a terrible read.

[Helen · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is a review for a different edition of the book but it was some time ago and I'm going to ignore it.
This is a fascinating telling of a real murder and takes you inside the working class homes of dockside London in 1811. The authors complain about the lack of proper procedures on the part of the magistrates and I agree that parading Mr. Williams' body through the streets as if he were a convicted murderer when he hadn't even been formally accused was a more than slightly unfortunate lapse, but there was no real procedure for questioning witnesses or suspects other than standing in front of them and yelling that they had done it, admit it, you hit him with that maul, come on, admit it. The acknowledged and trustworthy way of receiving information was paying for it, offering a reward. When they divided up the reward money the constables got their share.
I have put it in the Christmas category because it happened during and after Christmas in 1811. This is a city Christmas and you have to look very hard to see any signs of it. The newspapers published on Christmas Day and the shops and businesses were all working so you can understand Mr. Scrooge complaining at Bob Cratchit expecting a day off with pay. It seems that between 1811 and the 1840s granting the day off become usual, perhaps because so many people were coming into the city from rural areas where there was general celebration around the church feast days and the observances came with them.
The book was written around the development of the Metropolitain Police and I had not realised that there was such a strong opposition to a proper police force. The phrase about a man's home being his castle seems to reflect the feeling of the citizenry, that no one has the right to come inside and go through your belongings in a search for criminality "such as they have in France." There was a perception that the police could storm into any French home and "find" any evidence they wanted, that the police were open to bribery and you had no defense. It was only after having to deal with cases such as this that people were willing to accept a properly trained and organized police force to protect the people.
One thing you can't escape is the darkness. There are some street lights and escaping light from homes and businesses but it is very dark, a darkness increased by the great wall all around the dockyard area built in an attempt to reduce cargo pilferage. That problem didn't go away until shipping containers were introduced in the 1960s.
Another thing that appears to have been endemic is the prejudice against those of other nationalities, especially the Irish and the Portuguese. It seems that sailors of any nationality are suspicious since they could disappear so easily by just signing on to a foreign bound ship. The Irish are always suspected and that being the case it is surprising how lightly one of the witnesses takes the questioning. His answers sound like a caricature Irishmen from a farce

[Eileen · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book, unlike P. D. James' other books, is about real murders; murders that are considered the beginning of the Victorians' obsession with true crime. They were gritty, bloody, merciless, and shocking. In twelve days, seven people, including a 3 month old infant, were bludgeoned and had their throats slit. Until the Ripper murders some 70 years later, it was the bloodiest set of murders England had ever seen.

Timothy Marr, age 26, was a former seaman turned draper. He was an agreeable man by all accounts, and his former captain helped him marry his sweetheart Celia, and set up shop on Ratcliffe Highway, a rough neighborhood, but near to the sailors who were his main customers. He prospered enough to remodel the downstairs shop and storefront with a window large enough to display his wears. His wife had recently presented him with a son, and he was able to hire an apprentice and housemaid.

The year 1811 saw many changes, not all of them good, among them the King had been declared insane and the Regency begun. December 7, 1811, was a busy day for the Marr's shop. As usual, they stayed open quite late and were still cleaning up when Timothy sent the housemaid, Margaret Jewell, out around midnight to find oysters for a late supper and to pay the baker. She returned a half hour later, unable to do either chore, to find the door locked and no response to her loud knocking.

Soon, George Olney, the night watchman, joined her in her knocking. The knocking aroused the neighbors, one of whom went to the back door and found it unlocked. He stepped inside to find an unspeakable scene of blood, bodies, and gore. Their heads were bashed in and throats cut nearly off. Everyone in the house had been murdered, and a blood-soaked carpenter's maul had been left behind. Olney opened the door to the watchman, and soon, his rattle sounded, and he gave the Hue and Cry - MURDER!

At this time, there was no organized, central police force in existence. The Bow Street Runners were formed, but it was only for a small area in London. There were Marine Police who only tended to the dock area nearby. The rest of the area of London had aging Watchmen, Magistrates, Churchwardens, and rarely some help from the Home Office, all of whom bickered over who was in charge.

At first, the Churchwardens took charge as they hired the night Watchmen, but they were out of their depth. It was the Marine Police who found the murder weapon and found out it belonged to a sailor who was presently at sea, but who had left his tools at the boarding house next door to the Marr's shop, called The Pear Tree. During the next two weeks, several suspects were imprisoned.

On December 19th, a Bow Street magistrate, fifty-eight year old Aaron Graham became interested in the case. He had a solid reputation as a kind of detective and had solved several notorious cases. He began to question the men in jail and released most as having solid alibis. Twelve days later, the murderer struck again.

The King's Arms was a respectable tavern owned by the Williamsons, husband and wife. He was a big, burley man who could handle a rough customer and brooked no nonsense from them. With them lived their 14 year old granddaughter Kitty, a servant Bridget, and a lodger John Turner. Before closing, Williamson asked the local constable to keep an eye out for someone Williamson had caught eavesdropping at his door. Twenty minutes later, the nearly naked John Turner appeared dangling from his third floor window by two beadsheets tied together. He was screaming MURDER!

He dropped the last eight feet into the arms of the night Watchman below. Constable Anderson appeared armed with a sword and staff and broke into the tavern basement to find Williamson's lifeless body on the stairs, head bashed in, and throat cut. Mrs. Williamson and Bridget were found in the same state in the kitchen. Miraculously, Kitty was asleep in her bed unharmed most likely because of the screaming of Turner outside.

Bloody footprints from at least two shoes were found from the back door and over a muddy embankment, but no suspects were found. In total seven people were now dead, in a most gruesome manner. The Bow Street Runners arrived again, but this time they fired all the night Watchmen.

The newspapers screamed with the gory details and rewards started to be offered for information that led to the murderers. The rewards started at £10, and went all the way to £500, a phenomenal sum at the time. Again dozens of people were gathered up, jailed, and questioned but this time suspicion grew against a lodger at the Pear Tree, next door to the Marrs, one John Williams a sailor who was a natty dresser, and free spender.

Williams fit the description of one of the murderers, he had access to the stolen maul, and even though he claimed to be broke, he had a fair amount of silver in his pocket when he was picked up. He was put in a standard cell to await a hastily arranged trial. As the Magistrate sat waiting only the jailers appeared. Williams had hanged himself in his cell by his handkerchief. To all this seemed an admission of guilt - but was it?

The people, who felt justice was not served, demanded some sort of demonstration. On New Years Eve of 1811, a cart with an inclined bed was built, Williams' body was tied on, his eyes unclosed and the handkerchief still around his neck. Dozens of dignitaries led and followed the cart. The tens of thousands of watchers remained silent as the cart stopped and Williams' head was turned to the Marr's front window. At a crossroad prearranged, waited a small, shallow grave. The body was shoved on, face down, and a stake pounded through his heart. Then it was filled, and the paving stones pounded into place. There was a final indignity left to take place a hundred years later but you'll have to read the book to find it out.

Believe it or not what I have just written is pretty well known by those of us dedicated true crime readers, readers of famous murders, and readers of the history of English murder cases - all of which I am. The facts of this case are just a portion of this book. The bulk is about how inadequate the policing forces were, how totally botched the questioning of suspects and witnesses, and the rivalry of local and regional authorities.

This is where the second author, T.A. Critchley comes in. He worked at the Home Office and rose to the office of Assistant Under Secretary of State. He spent a lot of time in the Police Department of the Home Office and is credited with modernizing the police force. He researched all the documents needed to cool-headedly evaluate what was happening with the various authorities during this famous case. He subsequently wrote other books after this collaboration.

Hindsight is famously 50/50, but I have to say that based on the official documents, the authors make a very convincing case in their conclusions. You will have to read the book for that. I'm tempted to re-read that part of the book again because there is so much to be pondered.

A lot of names are thrown around in this narrative, and you might have trouble keeping them straight, so you'll be happy to know there is a list of all the major people, and who they were; victims, suspects, and officials.

I highly recommend this for the serious true crime, and history of crime readers. It pairs perfectly with two other books I've reviewed here on Goodreads.

[Renate · Rating 4 out of 5]

Of all the processions which London has known in its long and often dark history there can be few as bizarre and macabre as this parade on New Year's Eve, 1811, of a corpse dead four days, through the drab streets of riverside Wapping...

Apparently, the Ratcliffe Highway Murders are part of London's folklore. In this intriguing book the historian T.A. Critchley, and the crime writer P.D. James researched the contemporary documents and tried to piece together the unsolved mystery.

It is not altogether a smooth read. As one of our book club members pointed out:- one can spot which sections of the book were written by the better author. But as a whole I found it very fascinating.

The murders were gruesome. The justice system, if one could call it that, was a shambles and relied mostly on offering financial rewards to find the culprits.

The authors do a good job in presenting the confusing and myriad bits of information and testimony. Although it remains a mystery to this day, their conclusion is plausible.

The investigation ended, not because the case was solved, but because someone willed that it should end.

Incompetent magistrates were eager to find a scapegoat, to calm the mob. These murders happened before London's famous Metropolitan Police was established and it is interesting to learn about the strong arguments against such a force that were raised in parliament at the time.

Apart from everything else, it was also a fascinating account of that part of London where everything evolved around the docks, the sailors and the ships and their cargo. Certainly not a romantic impression. Life was tough.

[Kass · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nos cuesta trabajo entender cómo en la actualidad, con toda la tecnología que hay disponible para las investigaciones policiales, aún cuesta llevar acabo el trabajo forense y policial para cerrar casos con un acusado y/o sentencia para hacer justicia en los casos criminales. Pero el relato objetivo de un caso criminal previo a la aparición de Jack El Destripador en la historia británica, nos da la clave del fracaso de los cuerpos policiales al momento de las indagaciones, y se entiende entonces por qué, aún con todas las herramientas disponibles siempre interferirá el factor humano en su sentido más lamentable... el prejucio.

[Tria · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent and intensively-researched casefile on a case handled only rarely by modern writers. The historical sources available with respect to these crimes are minimal, but the authors have here drawn on as many as are known to exist to create a very thoughtful analysis of the case, with the context of its time and its subsequent influence on the English judicial system, and a fascinating and involving book withal.

[Linda Hardy · Rating 3 out of 5]

In 1811 two families were murdered along the Ratcliffe Highway in east London, who was the murderer? Police and local Watchmen had their suspicions but before a man could be charged with the murders he committed suicide, but was he really the killer? Interesting story about a time in London's history I knew little of, but found the story a bit longwinded, could of been condensed a bit.

[Alice · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the second time I have read a crime writer's account of an unsolved historical crime. It is wonderful to see that life is stranger than fiction and no less interesting. James does a fabulous job weaving the factual historical account into a captivating story! BRAVO!

[Robert · Rating 3 out of 5]

This could perhaps be called an historical mystery. Reading it reminded me of one of the last episodes in the Morse series on PBS. It is a reworking of the evidence in an actual 19th century British murder case.

[Jo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Crime novelist writes history book about 200 year old murders. Very interesting to follow the crimes and subsequent investigation and now I want to seek out the author's other work.

[Bridget · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting book mostly, though it didn't keep my interest the whole way through.