A Burglar Caught by a Skeleton & Other Singular Tales from the Victorian Press

by Clay, Jeremy

  Within minutes, a crush had built up. A coachman called Fred Bonner, hearing the cries from the hall, dashed in and began pulling children through the gap, then took an axe to the door in desperation. The heavy iron bolt holding it shut was found later to have bent by an inch.

  In all, 183 children died that afternoon. Thirty of them came from one Sunday school class, reported the Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette on the following Monday. ‘In one house in the west end, there are four children lying dead. Two of them are laid out upon a little table and the others are laid upon a piano. We also learn that a suffering father was carrying a dead child in each arm from the Victoria Hall when his wife met him, and utterly unnerved, he fell to the ground with his melancholy burden.’

  The bodies were laid out in a theatre that had turned into a morgue. ‘A man and his wife rushed in,’ said the Echo, ‘the man eagerly scanned the faces of the dead, and without betraying any emotion, said with his finger pointed and with face blanched, “That’s one,” and passing on two or three yards, still pointing, “That’s another;” and still walking on, pointing to the last child in the row, he uttered, “Good God! All my family gone!” and staggering back he cried out “Give me water, give me water.”’

  Shocking Ice Accident in Regent’s Park.

  Forty Persons Drowned

  About three o’clock on Tuesday, while a large number of persons were skating on the ornamental water in Regent’s Park the whole sheet of ice, several hundred yards long and probably two hundred and fifty yards across, first bending in the middle, gave way, and broke into myriads of pieces.

  Scarcely any of the 200 or more on the ice escaped immersion. Some managed to float on large isolated pieces of ice to the shore; many were struggling in the water for their lives, and when all seen struggling had been rescued it was generally supposed that a number, variously estimated at from twenty to fifty, were still in the water.

  Efforts were at once made by means of the few boats at hand to drag for the bodies, and one by one they were recovered, though after such terrible delay as rendered resuscitation almost hopeless.

  The actual scene of the catastrophe was the Ornament Water, immediately in front of the Essex Place. Upon this, during the whole day, there was a large concourse of skaters assembled, many of whom were attracted thither probably by the fineness and smoothness of the ice.

  At four o’clock the number was diminished to a few hundreds, but the sport was spiritedly maintained. The first and only signal of danger was the breaking of the ice as near as possible in the middle, where one boy only was immersed. Almost simultaneously the whole sheet of ice gave way.

  In a moment the scene was transformed to one of the most heartrending character. A few minutes sufficed to clear the surface of any visible sign of life. The little island, and the hither shore, were bestrewed with drenched persons, some gratulating themselves on their fortunate escape, others alarmed for the safety of some friend with whom he had just before been sharing his enjoyments.

  We may mention one melancholy incident of the disaster. A gentleman living in Euston Square, whose body was recovered by the boatmen, though at first thought to be dead, revived under the treatment he received, and his first exclamation was, ‘Where is my son? my only son?’ – who, it appears, had been skating with his father, and who it is feared is among the drowned.

  Up to six o’clock, half-a-dozen bodies only had been recovered, but the boatmen were still at work by torchlight dragging for the bodies. The scene around was then of a most painful character.

  Men and women were there in grief, and anxious after the safety of relatives; scores were still left on the island, unable to get ashore, suffering no little misery in their drenched condition.

  The Derbyshire and Chesterfield Herald, January 19, 1867

  Strange Story of a Broken Wooden Leg

  At the Gingerbread Fair yesterday (writes the Paris correspondent of the London Evening News) a young man named Thinet was imprudent enough to venture too close to a velocipede roundabout, and being caught by the leg in the machinery, was whirled along for several yards head downwards, and picked up in a fainting condition, with a broken leg.

  On the way to the chemist’s shop near at hand Thinet became completely unconscious, and remained so until the arrival of the surgeon. While the latter was cutting away the rags of trouser from the broken limb Thinet came to, and in spite of the pain in which he presumably was in, began to laugh.

  The broken leg was a wooden one, and he had escaped with nothing more severe than a bad headache and a bruise or two.

  The queerest part of the adventure was, however, the arrival on the scene of another man who, while peacefully taking a glass of absinthe at a little cafe opposite the merry-go-round, was severely wounded in the face by the other half of the leg which had flown off at a tangent, broken a window, and hit him on the forehead.

  The Manchester Evening News, April 12, 1899

  Extraordinary Accident

  A singular accident has occurred at Wolverhampton. A domestic servant, named Hannah Bate, in the employ of Mr Willcock, builder, was in the kitchen of her master’s house, when a portion of the flooring immediately over the soft water cistern suddenly gave way, and the girl fell into the well beneath, which contained six feet of water.

  Mr Willcock, hearing the girl’s screams for help, ran into the kitchen, but, not perceiving what had happened, he too fell into the cistern. Fortunately, a policeman passing by, hearing the calls for assistance, entered the house, and, finding what had happened, set to work to rescue the master and servant.

  Whilst so engaged another portion of the covering, on which he was standing, gave way, and he also went down into the water. The services of a second policeman were quickly procured, and he, with assistance, succeeded in drawing the two men and the girl out of the cistern.

  The girl is suffering from shock to the system, but Willcock and the policeman are none the worse for the wetting.

  The Illustrated Police News, February 13, 1886

  A Peculiar Accident

  Madame Coanda, wife of the military attaché of the Roumanian Legation in Paris is the victim of a peculiar accident. She was on a visit to the Comtesse d’Ormesson, who resides in the Avenue d’Iona. In the house is a lift for the convenience of those residing in the upper flats, but without any attendant specially set apart to work it, the practice being for residents and visitors to put it into motion themselves.

  Madame Coanda entered the apparatus and started it, but on reaching the flat occupied by the Comtesse she became flurried and forgot to stop it. The lift continued its ascent. Madame Coanda, who is evidently unacquainted with the working of these useful inventions, become frightened that when it reached the top it would turn over and fall with her to the ground.

  In this she was mistaken, as it would have stopped automatically the moment it reached the highest floor. When the lift arrived at the next storey she jumped, in her terror, through the glass door, and fell, fainting and bleeding, on the floor of the corridor.

  The Comtesse d’Ormesson sent for a doctor speedily, who found Madame Coanda injured considerably, and cut about the face by pieces of broken glass. She was conveyed afterwards to her own residence in the Rue Marbeuf, and the medical man attending her states that she is recovering satisfactorily.

  The Huddersfield Chronicle and West Yorkshire Advertiser, July 12, 1890

  Extraordinary Freak of a Lad

  On Tuesday morning some consternation was felt in Plantation Street, Rhymney, by an extraordinary explosion.

  It appears that in a house at the lower part of the street were five children, among whom was a lad apparently about 14 or 15 years old. This wicked urchin by some means got possession of a quantity of blasting powder, which he threw, bit by bit, into the fire.

  Becoming bolder, and not heeding the warning of a girl, he threw the bag of powder, and all its contents, into the fire. It immediately exploded, causing such a severe shock th
at the adjoining houses shook to their foundations, and, in some instances, beds were entirely lifted from their places, and their occupants terribly shaken and frightened.

  The young delinquent, together with the girl and a baby, have been severely burnt about their heads and faces. The house was scorched, and literally riddled with gunpowder marks.

  Two children at the time of the explosion were lying in bed, and had not help been procured immediately – the door having been shut by the young culprit running away – both would, undoubtedly, have been suffocated by the smoke which filled the house.

  Supplement to the Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser, October 10, 1874

  Gruesome Curiosity.

  Fall Through a Mortuary Skylight

  On Thursday evening a peculiar incident occurred at the Hartlepool Mortuary. Two young working men, in their overweening desire to inspect the mangled remains of Mr Riley (whose sad death was recorded yesterday), repaired thither.

  Finding the door locked, the more venturesome of the pair climbed on to the roof to peer through the skylight. Whilst so engaged, the glass gave way beneath his weight, and he fell through the aperture on to the top of the dead body, himself receiving rather severe cuts from the broken glass.

  The door being locked, the inquisitive intruder could only be liberated on his companion fetching the police.

  The Yorkshire Evening Post, August 26, 1893

  An Unfortunate Depositor

  A peculiar incident in connection with the recent bank failures has occurred at Wigan. A few weeks ago an old man, who had deposited his savings in the Wigan branch of Parr’s Banking Company, became alarmed as to the security of his money, and like a large number of persons situated in a similar position in the district, determined to withdraw the amount.

  Accordingly, on presenting himself at the Wigan Bank, he received the sum in notes, seven £100 and four £5 notes, total £720. Yesterday the depositor attended at the bank with his notes in a sad mess. On taking home the cash he appears to have placed the notes in a drawer in the house, where they were got at by the mice, and these little animals have had an expensive meal, all of the notes are more or less eaten away.

  The notes will be forwarded to the Bank of England, and everything done to enable the man to recover his money.

  The Edinburgh Evening News, December 17, 1878

  A Dangerous Experiment

  Whilst the gallows in Duke Street Prison, Glasgow, which was to be used to-day for the execution of the Port Glasgow murderers, was being tested under the personal direction of Marwood, one of the workmen put his head into the noose. Scarcely had he done so, when either his foot slipped or the trap gave way, and unfortunately the man got a drop that almost hanged him.

  The Manchester Evening News, May 23, 1883

  Extraordinary Adventure of a Runaway Boy

  A boy named Edward Light, ten years of age, has been received into the Bedminster Union Workhouse reduced almost to a skeleton, and who was discovered in the trunk of a tree at Long Ashton.

  He tells a most extraordinary and well nigh incredible story. He stated that about a week since he left home because he had spent his school-money, and having been pushed into some water in the People’s Park he walked about until the evening, when he pulled his boots off because they were wet, and crept for shelter into the hollow trunk of an elm-tree.

  His feet then became benumbed and swollen, so that he could not put on his boots and could not walk, and he was unable to extricate himself from his voluntary prison. All he could do was to put his hand through a hole in the tree to endeavour to attract attention, and it was this signal and his moans which at last brought him aid.

  He was rescued by two men named Bryant and Cook, employed by the Bedminster Coal Company, and was taken in a conveyance to the workhouse. The boy asserts that he was in the trunk of the tree from the day he left home until he was discovered – six days – without food. He has not been allowed to take any solid food yet, but is progressing satisfactorily, though he will probably lose some of his toes.

  His parents state that the boy had a good home, that there was no reason for his leaving, and they had been searching for him since the day he was missed.

  The boy adheres to his statement that he was in the tree on the Ashton Court Estate from Friday, the 18th December, till Christmas Eve, when his cries were heard. The first day he ate some orange-peel which he had in his pocket. Whenever he heard carts passing on the nearest road he shouted, but his cries were not heard.

  He got worse and worse, and suffered greatly from thirst. He was able to lie down in the hollow of the tree trunk, but his hands and feet during the hard frost had got so numbed that he could not use them. He felt worse when the frost came, and he cried all night, and could not sleep.

  When the hard weather broke he felt a little better, and then his cries were at last heard by the children in the adjoining lane. He has been visited by his parents, but he cannot yet be removed from the Bedminster Workhouse Infirmary.

  The Illustrated Police News, January 9, 1886

  American Railway Disaster.

  A Singular Explanation

  A Chicago telegram says: A confession has been made by a boy, throwing light on the cause of the fatal accident which occurred on the Chicago Rock Island and Pacific Railway last Thursday evening, when the Vestibule express ran into a Blue Island suburban train, wrecking two cars, with disastrous results to life and limb.

  The boy, who is only twelve years old, admits that he threw from the rear of the wrecked train a signal fuse, which, it seems, was in the nature of a notification to the train following the suburban train that it was behind time.

  The result was that the driver of the express increased speed instead of slacking as he would otherwise have done. The boy declares that he did not know what the signal was for, and has been released. Of the seventeen persons injured in the accident seven have since died, bringing up the total loss of life to twelve.

  The Evening Telegraph and Star, Sheffield, November 14, 1893

  Fearful Situation of a Female Somnambulist

  On Tuesday last week a scene of a harrowing nature was witnessed by many of the inhabitants of Budingen, in Germany. A young lady, named Dorothea Lessing, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, has, for several months past, been in the habit of walking in her sleep. After perambulating for an hour or so in an unconscious state, she usually returned to her sleeping chamber without experiencing any mishap. Not so, however, on the night in question.

  It would appear on this occasion that she opened the window of her bedroom, and afterwards endeavoured to cross a small iron bridge which connects the upper storeys of some warehouses to those on the other side of the street. The bridge, which is constructed of very slender ironwork, had not been used for some time, in consequence of a fracture near its centre.

  The supposition is that it vibrated beneath the weight of the sleepwalker; but this is merely conjecture. It is certain, however, from some cause or another, that Dorothea Lessing lost her footing, and must have fallen into the street below had not her wrist been caught in one of the apertures of the ironwork. By this she was suspended. A piercing shriek aroused several of the inhabitants of the town, who were horrified at beholding a beauteous young woman in such imminent peril.

  The burgomasters, some of whom chanced to be upon the spot, hastened to secure a ladder, which was not sufficiently long for the purpose. Another was brought by a neighbour, the two were lashed together, and the unconscious young lady – who had fainted from fear and pain – was with difficulty released. One of the bones of the right arm is seriously injured. The shock to the system is so severe that great doubts are entertained respecting her ultimate recovery.

  The Illustrated Police News, February 19, 1870

  Three Thousand Lives Lost in Russia

  The following extraordinary statement is from the Cologne Gazette: The Russian journals announce an unexampled catastrophe at Taganrog, on th
e Sea of Azoff.

  Allured by the mildness of the temperature, and by the purity of a cloudless sky, about 3,000 inhabitants of Taganrog followed the fishermen upon the ice. In that country fishing is the favourite occupation of all – young and old, rich and poor.

  The air was so calm that all advanced, without mistrust, farther and farther upon the ice, in the hope of obtaining a richer booty.

  Suddenly a warm wind rose from the east, which insensibly rose higher, whirled masses of snow, and finished by detaching from the shore the ice which adhered to it. In a few instants the vast sheet of ice cracked – rose – broke in several places – and the unhappy people who were upon it saw themselves carried out towards the open sea.

  Two hours afterwards not a trace of life was perceived from the shore upon the surface of the wave. On the following day the waves drove ashore a floe of ice, on which were five of these unhappy people; three were dead, and others stupefied by cold – the two last, a young girl and an old man. The young girl died some hours after.

  The old man survived, but from fright he had lost the use of his tongue. He gave in writing a narrative of the events of this frightful night. The number of persons who met death in the waves amounts to 3,000.

  The Leicester Chronicle, March 19, 1859

  Horse Killed by Bees

  An extraordinary accident which was attended with serious consequences, is reported from the village of Snainton, midway between Pickering and Scarborough.