by Jan Bondeson
After enlightening the jury with these observations, the coroner left them to consider ‘whether they think what they have received is fully sufficient to fix the guilt on any individual, or whether, from the mystery in which this case still remains involved, that you cannot form a just conclusion who is the guilty party’. After deliberating for half an hour, they unanimously found a verdict of ‘Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown’.
9
THE CAVENDISH LETTER
On the evening of Sunday 10 June, Inspector Field was not in a particularly good mood. The coroner’s inquest on Eliza Grimwood had produced few worthwhile leads and a multitude of annoying red herrings. The hunt for the Foreigner had been entirely devoid of success. All of Saturday, the inspector had led a troop of police constables ‘visiting the different places and Hotels where foreigners are in the habit of going and ascertaining whether any of these had left their lodgings, also visited the different Gambling Houses in St James &c making the minute Enquiries at all foreign houses’.1 By this time, every foreign ship, every seaman’s hostel, every foreign hotel and lodging house, and every tavern or eating house where Frenchmen and Italians used to go had been searched by the Grimwood task force. But although this police operation had flushed out a number of dodgy foreigners, they could all give an account of themselves, and none of them answered the description of the young, dapperly dressed foreigner who had taken Eliza Grimwood home. It was scant consolation to the weary detective that the inhabitants of the Parish of St Mary, Lambeth, had held a public meeting and offered a reward of £50 for the apprehension of the murderer of Eliza Grimwood.2
For Inspector Field, it was also very important to maintain a good working relationship with the coroner and magistrates. But in the Grimwood murder investigation, there had more than once been clashes between the coroner’s enthusiasm for new sensational leads and the inspector’s reliance on good solid police work. It had greatly annoyed Field that at the inquest, the coroner and jury had openly sneered at the volatile, histrionic female witnesses he had presented. Something of a misogynist himself, he fully shared their low opinion of those flippant young harlots, but they were the best witnesses he had been able to find. Nor had the introduction of that pathetic perjurer John Owen done Field’s prestige any good.
But as the gloomy inspector sat pondering the murder mystery, a caller was announced: it was Eliza’s brother Thomas Grimwood, who had previously made himself useful in explaining her antecedents. By this time, there was no longer any police presence at No. 12 Wellington Terrace. Since Thomas Grimwood was still very worried that Hubbard would take off with Eliza’s valuable property, he and his two brothers took it in turns to stay at the murder house. The Grimwoods did not get along with the volatile Hubbard, and angry altercations were the order of the day. This particular evening, something more momentous was afoot, however: Thomas Grimwood said that he had actually overheard Hubbard planning his escape from London.
Losing no time, Inspector Field got hold of a cab and went to Wellington Terrace, where he sat outside stealthily watching the murder house for several hours. Close to midnight, Hubbard sneaked out, hailed a cab and went across Waterloo Bridge, with the inspector following him. He went to a house in Doughty Square, where he stayed only a few minutes, and then to a house in Stafford Street. The inspector sat waiting outside, pondering what to do. Hubbard’s behaviour was definitely suspicious, but he hardly seemed in a hurry to escape from London. Inspector Field thought he could recognise one of the people who received Hubbard as the suspect’s brother Charles.3 He decided to return to the station house to see what advice he could get from there. He was surprised to find the place in an uproar. Clearly there had been some important news. When the inspector told Superintendent Grimsall, who was directing operations in person in spite of the late hour, about his pursuit of Hubbard, he was ordered immediately to take him into custody. When Field asked why, the following letter, written on elegant black-edged paper, was thrust into his hands:
Goswell-street, June 8, 1838
Sir, - Though with the greatest reluctance, a sense of duty I owe to every fellow creature, and that justice may be obtained, compels me to break my silence touching the melancholy death of Eliza Grimwood. Ever since the horrid deed has been perpetrated I have had the public prints, and have attended the inquiry whenever I could obtain admittance, though in disguise, but have as yet remained silent. I am the person who accompanied Eliza Grimwood home on the night in question from the Strand Theatre …’4
The Hero of Waterloo public house at No. 108 Waterloo Road, kept by Mr Okey to whom the Cavendish letter was delivered.
The letter writer, who signed his name ‘John Walter Cavendish’ and gave his address as Goswell Street, went on to declare that he had intended to remain with Eliza all night, but before going to bed, they ‘had a few words’. The sound of their quarrel alerted the jealous Hubbard, who came charging downstairs. Fearful that he would be ‘bullied’ and robbed by Eliza’s ‘protector’, Cavendish decided to escape. He took up the candlestick and made for the door, but Hubbard burst into the room in a fearful rage. After calling the nearly naked Eliza ‘a bloody whore’, he collared Cavendish and exclaimed, ‘You bastard, I will do for you!’ Cavendish managed to free himself and ran to the front door, leaving behind a pair of black kid gloves as well as a gold signet ring with his crest (a bear’s head) that Hubbard had pulled off during the scuffle. The distraught Cavendish then walked about for some time, several times passing the house in Wellington Terrace. Once, he saw Hubbard standing with the front door ajar. His shirtsleeves were tucked up above his elbows, and when he perceived Cavendish he shut the door cautiously without slamming it.
At first, Cavendish thought little of what had happened. He had visited unfortunate females in various shady locations many times before, and was aware of the risks involved. He had twice been with Eliza at a hotel in Hart Street, Covent Garden. But after the murder had become known, he realised that he was sitting right in the middle of London’s greatest mystery. He was by no means a foreigner, although his complexion was somewhat swarthy due to a seven-year residence in the West Indies. Fearful of being arrested as the Foreigner, Cavendish shaved his whiskers and disguised his dress. But realising that unless he came forth, the nefarious Hubbard would get away with murder, Cavendish reluctantly changed his mind and wrote his letter, declaring that to serve the course of justice he would appear in public and establish Hubbard’s guilt.
This letter indeed looked very promising. Inspector Field could spot a few flaws, however. Firstly, Cavendish’s account of a loud and vociferous scuffle, with violent threats being uttered, did not agree with the stories of the other people resident at No. 12 Wellington Terrace that night. Secondly, it was strange that although the letter writer gave his name and the name of the street he lived in, he did not provide the number of his house. But the inspector and superintendent knew one thing that had deliberately been kept from the public, namely that an unidentified pair of gloves had really been found in the murder room. It is true that they were lavender-coloured, not black, but there was no way the mysterious Cavendish could have known about them.
At three in the morning of Monday 11 June, Inspector Field and some constables returned to the house in Stafford Street. According to a journalist who had spoken to one of the constables involved, Hubbard ‘did not appear as if taken by surprise nor betray much perceptible agitation when the policemen entered his bedroom’. The police brought Hubbard back with them, in handcuffs, to the Tower Street police station.5
On Monday morning, news soon spread about the arrest of Hubbard, and London was buzzing with rumours. In the morning, Inspector Field went to the Marlborough Street police office to see a suspect picked up as the Foreigner by Inspector Shamling. He was a Frenchman named Ernest Tondeur, a native of Bordeaux employed as a singer at one of the theatres, who had been arrested because he fitted Catherine Edwin’s description of the killer almost exactly, e
ven down to the whiskers, glasses and ability to speak French. But when this capricious young lady was called to identify him, she said that he did not in the slightest resemble the man she had seen with Eliza Grimwood! Despite the handicap of being a foreigner, Tondeur seemed a respectable man, and the magistrate concluded that he had been wrongfully apprehended.6 The spectators seemed more concerned about what was happening to Hubbard. Several inquisitive journalists approached Inspector Field, but he told them nothing.
When the inspector went to the station house, where Hubbard was confined to one of the cells and closely watched by two constables, he was annoyed to find a large and unruly mob of people of both sexes waiting outside. They were cursing Hubbard as the murderer of Eliza Grimwood, and suggesting that he should be hanged there and then. The inspector began to fear for Hubbard’s safety, since there was such immense prejudice against him. When Field left the police station in a cab, leaving Hubbard behind, there was a shout of ‘There goes the murderer!’ and some roughs leapt up to look through its windows. All over town, rumours continued to fly that Hubbard would be examined later the same day. A large and rowdy crowd assembled opposite the front entrance of Union Hall. After seeing ‘the vast assemblage surrounding the office, and the excited state of public feeling’, the magistrate Mr Jeremy decided that it would be advisable to go through the day’s other business before Hubbard was brought up.
A handbill announcing the apprehension of Hubbard, reproduced by permission of the John Johnson collection of ephemera, Bodleian Library.
At two o’clock in the afternoon, Hubbard was brought to Union Hall in a hackney coach, securely handcuffed and accompanied by Inspector Field and Sergeant Price. But they were recognised by the mob and ‘a scene of almost undescribable confusion was the consequence; indeed, it was found necessary to appoint a number of the police to assist the officers of this establishment in preventing the mob from forcing their way into the justice-room’.7 Shortly after half past two, Hubbard was placed within the felon’s bar. He was dressed in a claret-coloured coat with a velvet colour, and a dark waistcoat and trousers, and a hat with a deep crepe band. A journalist noted that his appearance was very much altered since his attendance before the coroner: he was very pale, and obviously trying hard to maintain his self-possession.
Questioned by the magistrate Mr Jeremy, Inspector Field explained how he had followed Hubbard across Waterloo Bridge the previous evening. The inspector had probably made a deal with Thomas Grimwood that his name would not be mentioned, merely saying that he had acted on information received. Hubbard may well have visited the houses of his mother, brother and sister. Field then described how he had been shown the Cavendish letter and taken Hubbard into custody. It turned out that the fatal letter had been addressed to Richard Carter the coroner, who had been staying at the Hero of Waterloo public house not far away. The letter had arrived after the coroner had left, however, and Mr Okey the landlord had opened it himself to see if it contained anything important. The startled publican had immediately taken the letter to the local police station, where Superintendent Grimsall had only just had time to read and digest it when Inspector Field brought the news that Hubbard had left the murder house.
Mr Jeremy sternly asked Inspector Field whether he believed that the Cavendish letter constituted sufficient grounds to keep Hubbard in custody. The inspector stoutly answered in the affirmative, adding that if the letter was advertised in the newspapers, he felt that Mr Cavendish would certainly come forward. Mr Jeremy replied that he had no authority to publish this letter in the newspapers, and that it might not be such a good idea if this was done. Was it not still important to keep certain details of the murder investigation strictly secret, to make sure that hoaxers and anonymous letter writers would not interfere any further? The inspector fully agreed, and it was decided that although the fact that a highly incriminating letter signed ‘Cavendish’ had been received would be made public, its text would remain a secret. To argue the authenticity of the Cavendish letter further, Thomas Grimwood testified that a pair of lavender-coloured gloves had been found in the murder room, under the head of the bed, on the Monday after the murder.
Mr Jeremy decided that although he believed that charges should be supported by evidence and not by anonymous letters, he felt that it was his duty to remand Hubbard in custody for one week. The jailer was about to remove Hubbard when one of the police constables said that the prisoner wanted to speak. After being cautioned that anything he said could be used in evidence against him, Hubbard spoke up. He denied having made any attempt to escape from Wellington Terrace the previous evening. It had in fact been Thomas Grimwood who had persuaded him to leave the house, and given him 30s to do so! The reason he had travelled from house to house was that his mother had been ill, and that his brother Charles had been the only other relative willing to accommodate him. Thomas Grimwood wanted to contradict this statement, but the magistrate instructed him to be silent for now. As Hubbard was escorted out to the coach that was to take him to the Horsemonger Lane Prison, he was again recognised by the mob. There was a shout of ‘There goes the murderer!’ and a violent torrent of abuse from hundreds of angry voices. Had the police constables not protected the coach, the mob would have torn Hubbard to pieces.8
As we know, the police operation searching for the Foreigner had ceased on 9 June. But if the constables involved had hoped that their aching feet would be spared in the coming weeks, they received an unpleasant surprise on Tuesday 12 June. Inspector Field set the entire Grimwood task force, reinforced with several constables recruited from other police divisions, to work on a massive house-to-house search of the area around Goswell Road. Every householder was asked if they knew the elusive John Walter Cavendish, or indeed any person by that name. As the weary constables were trudging away, led by the faithful Sergeant Price, the inspector made use of his not inconsiderable talents for lateral thinking. If ‘Cavendish’ was a habitué of the Strand Theatre, perhaps he had a private box there? The theatre box-keepers answered in the negative. Had any of the toll-keepers or cabmen on Waterloo Bridge noticed a somewhat dishevelled-looking gentleman the night of the murder? They had not. Then there was the description of the ring with the bear’s head crest. The inspector first went to see one of Eliza’s former clients at Lincoln’s Inn, but when this gentleman showed his crest, it contained no bear’s head. He then went to the College of Heralds, where he was assured that no family named Cavendish had a crest with a bear’s head.9
After a few days, the inspector must have felt like he was going mad. Since Sergeant Price and the constables had searched Goswell Road and its vicinities without finding the slightest clue, the search was widened to Clerkenwell, Islington and Highbury. After a £150 reward had been posted for the conviction of the murderer of Eliza Grimwood, there was a torrent of tips from all over London. One writer thought Cavendish was identical to an old schoolfellow of his, who had always been over-partial to the ladies; another letter-writer tried to implicate the local rector. A third writer thought Cavendish was a member of a distinguished noble family, who were going to hold a meeting to decide whether he was going to ruin his good name forever by coming forward. All over London, amateur detectives were on the lookout for any suspicious-looking person; the mysterious ‘Cavendish’ seemed to be sitting in every alehouse of the metropolis. After the news of the arrest of Hubbard had diffused into the provincial newspapers, there were tips from Reading, Brighton and Manchester.10 On a coach from Bridgwater to Taunton, a well-dressed young man introduced himself to the other passengers as John Walter Cavendish, an engraver from London. He behaved strangely, more than once crying out, ‘Murder!’ At the Crown Inn in Taunton, he requested a room for the night under the name ‘John Walters’, but was fearful of entering it unless he was accompanied by the landlord. He searched the room minutely and looked under the bed. When this strange person saw the Cavendish letter advertised in the local newspaper, he abruptly left town by the Exeter coach. The Taunt
on Courier suggested that this must have been the timid Cavendish making his escape from London, since he was fearful of being murdered himself if he gave evidence against Hubbard.11
When Mr Jeremy took his seat at Union Hall on 14 June, he complained that since the news of the Cavendish letter, and of the £150 reward, had been published in the newspapers, he had received an unprecedented number of anonymous letters. Some of these were threatening, some jocular, others just plain crazy. A few days after the reward had been posted, the situation for the police had also become almost intolerable. Every constable was employed investigating tip-offs from the public and dealing with amateur detectives eager for the reward. But Inspector Field thought of one final clue. Would it not be possible to find out where the Cavendish letter had been posted? After the stamp had been minutely examined with a strong lens, it was discerned that it came from the Highbury post office. This was a valuable clue and the inspector ordered his men to make inquiries at every receiving office for the twopenny post that sent its letters on to the Highbury post office. One of them was the shop of Mrs Humphries, fruiterer, at No. 4 Slayman’s Row, Highbury. Although more than a week had gone by since the letter had been posted, the eagle-eyed sub-postmistress immediately recognised it, since she had been impressed that it was addressed to the coroner for Surrey. She could well remember that it had been delivered by young Mr M’Millan, the son of a stationer and newsman who had his business at No. 17 Wells Row, Highbury.
