The Man Must Have Been a Monster
Troubling Motives
This week, we have a third Northamptonshire story from the 1870s, one that draws on several recent themes: a shoemaker, a tollbar, an execution, arrogance, male violence.
But it’s one that’s also a bit different. Vicious, pre-meditated, and with signs of the type of homicidal obsession we associate with modern serial killers.
And, unlike most of the recent stories, the victim was a man. He was killed in a bloody and dramatic fashion, but was perhaps not the killer’s target.
After this week, I’ll be leaving Northamptonshire for a while, to try and even out the geographical spread, but for now, let’s imagine Wood Burcote near Towcester in late 1873.
Wood Burcote is a hamlet just to the west of Towcester racecourse, although the racecourse was not there in the 1870s. Thomas Chamberlain was a shoemaker, and also kept tollbars. Tollroads were rapidly going out of fashion by this point, but a few gates persisted. Thomas had been running tollbars for most of his life, following in his father’s footsteps, and was employed by the company who ran the road between Towcester and Buckingham. In 1871, he moved to run the toll at Wood Burcote. When this closed, in October 1873, he took over a rather isolated toll on the modern A413 a little north of Lordsfield Farm. No trace remains, although it was a ‘most miserable habitation’, a single-storey building of two rooms, one used as a living room and kitchen, the other as a bedroom. At the time of our story, Thomas was around forty years old. He lived with his wife, Martha, and two children: William (15) and Sarah (10). He supplemented his income with farm work, and Martha was a lacemaker.
Around a mile from his old toll stands Wood Burcote Farm, which was then the home of John Cox Newitt and his family. John was a farmer, and he’d spent most of his life in Bradden, where he was born. He moved to Wood Burcote in the 1860s, possibly to retire, as he turned seventy-one in 1873. John and his wife Mary were a respected members of the community. They had eight children by this time, aged between twenty-seven and sixteen. One of them, also named John, still lived at home. The Newitts also employed a servant named Harriet Stevens. She was born in Bloxham in 1852, and had started working for the Newitts at Christmas in 1872. In May 1873, she was accidentally shot by a young man staying at the Newitt household, but generally, she was fiercely loyal to the Newitts.
Harriet and Thomas Chamberlain were friends. Thomas had done work for the Newitts at time, and had known Harriet for the whole time she’d worked for the Newitts. She knew his wife and daughter, and sometimes visited them. Mrs Newitt also knew Thomas’ family, and sent treats for his little girl on occasion.
The 30th November 1873 was a Sunday. The Newitts were in the habit of going to church in the morning, at Towcester, but skipping the evening service to stay at home and read scripture. Harriet went to church with them in the mornings, but had the afternoon and evening off. On this occasion, however, Mrs Newitt wanted to hear a popular preacher that was performing a guest sermon at the evening service. Her son agreed to take her, but John Newitt remained behind. Harriet gave up her afternoon off to stay with him. Mrs Newitt and John Newitt jr went off to Towcester church just before 6pm. John snr sat with his scripture in the drawing room, and Harriet stayed in the kitchen, with the door closed, writing a letter at the table. The two rooms were opposite each other in the house, separated by a passage that ran from the front door to the kitchen.
Thomas, however, was in the pub at Whittlebury, still dressed in his Sunday best. He drank some rum and beer, before leaving with two pints for the road, at 6:30pm.
At 7:45pm, or thereabouts, Harriet heard someone come into the front door. She assumed it was the Newitts home from church, and immediately stood up to start preparing supper. She heard the person come into the house, come straight down the passage, and open the kitchen door. She looked at the person, and it was not young John Newitt.
It was Thomas.
She was just about to greet him by name, when he grabbed her by the shoulder and hit her.
With a twenty-two inch long cutlass.
The first cut went into her collar-bone. She screamed, indignant, later saying she wasn’t afraid, but confused and angry. Thomas said nothing but kept hitting her in the head with the cutlass. She put her hands up to defend herself, and lost the tip of a finger. Harriet’s life was saved by her hair, curled into a tight bun on her head. Thomas cut her bun off, but its density saved her skull: she was simply too close to him for the blade to cut into her deeply.
John Cox Newitt, hearing the commotion, came into the kitchen, demanding to know what was going on, and Thomas went for him, with a new ferocity. He knocked John headfirst into the coal scuttle, then smashed the light fitting as he brought the cutlass up to stab the old man. Harriet, now terrified, ran away. She ran all the way to the village of Wood Burcote, screaming murder, until she found help.
Meanwhile, Thomas finished what he’d started, eventually cutting the older man’s throat. Then he ran home - less than a mile through the fields, and cutting a shortcut through some hedges with the cutlass - changed his trousers, and tried to act normal. He told his wife that he’d cut his hand, which was actually true: he had cut the back of his left hand in a straight line at some point during the struggle.
Harriet’s desperate dash brought four local labourers and the police out to the house. John was dead. Thomas, however, had dripped blood all the way back to the house, a trail easily picked up, even in the dark. The police officer called him to open the gate, and then went into the house. His trousers, soaked with fresh blood, were on a chair. The bloodied waistcoat and shirt, wet as though washed, hung on a chair, with a bloody handkerchief in the pocket. Thomas’ hat and boots were not only covered in blood, but also long strands of white hair. John Cox Newitt had long, white hair.
Thomas’ wounded hand was still bleeding, and Thomas claimed he’d cut his hand cutting pork, but the wound was not severe enough to generate quite so much blood as was found on his clothing. It certainly didn’t explain the outdoor blood trail. No cut pork was found in the house. He was arrested.
The inquest was held at the Pomfret Arms on Towcester High Street, the following afternoon, the 1st December. Vast, furious crowds gathered to lynch Thomas when he arrived. Only the speed of the policemen escorting him stopped the crowd performing an early execution.
Thomas was an obnoxious and arrogant presence throughout the inquest, interrupting witness evidence, arguing about the tiny minutiae of evidence, and utterly failing to exonerate himself. Unusally, Thomas’ wife spoke at the inquest. This was unusual because women were not compelled to speak against their husbands in criminal court, and the same rules were usually applied to the coroner’s court. However, considering Thomas’ behaviour at inquest, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that he coerced her into appearing. Martha testified that Thomas had come home bleeding, told her that he’d cut his hand, and she’d bound it up with a rag. She claimed absolute ignorance of the crime.
John Cox Newitt’s injuries were horrendous and unsurvivable. The fatal cut went from his ear to his collarbone, diagonally, cutting through the bone underneath. This had cut off his ear, and gone through all the major vessels of his throat: the blood spray had hit the ceiling. He had other scalp wounds, including one that had cut through two plates of his skull, and a wound to his neck that had dented his spinal cord.
The coroner’s jury quickly, and inevitably, returned a verdict of wilful murder against Thomas Chamberlain. The magistrate’s hearing took place the following morning, and Thomas had lost his bravado by the time he stood in the dock. Towards the end of the proceedings, he tried to demonstrate that Harriet was an unreliable witness. Alec Newitt, one of the other Newitt sons, was involved in a dispute with a certain Mr Rawlings and Harriet had told Thomas that she’d ‘swear black was white’ to defend Alec against Rawlings. Thomas said such a woman’s word was worthless.
The magistrates disagreed and committed him to trial.
There was a small issue, though. The murder weapon had not been found. The police combed the countryside around Wood Burcote, and engaged the fire department to empty out some ponds and wells in the vicinity. The cutlass was found in the mud of a pond on the route between the Newitts house and the tollhouse, a most damning find. It was locally reported that Thomas had bought the weapon in Daventry in 1869, to keep for self-defence - growing up in the tollgate world, he would have heard about the murders in Melton in 1856. The tip of the blade was sharp, but the lower part was blunt.
The first assize after Thomas was charged opened on 7th March 1874. He spent the interim in Northampton gaol, denying he’d ever killed anyone, denying he was responsible for the disappearance of a man in Daventry in 1871.
He was the only person charged with murder at the assize, and was tried in front of Justice William Baliol Brett, on Tuesday 10th March. Thomas was defended by Mr Metcalfe who often had the dismal duty of defending murder in the Northampton assize, and the trial took all day. Thomas appeared gaunt, perhaps because he’d had his head and beard shaved since his arrest, but was defiantly unconcerned during proceedings.
There was very little new evidence at trial. A plan of the area was shown (and Mr Metcalfe objected to some of the paths drawn onto it), the doctor gave more detailed evidence about John Cox Newitt’s wounds, Harriet’s injuries and Thomas’ cut hand (and Mr Metcalfe objected to this as well). A forensic expert on blood testified that the blood was mammalian, but it was impossible to say whether it was human. A man from Daventry, and a local publican testified to seeing Thomas with his cutlass.
Mr Metcalfe had a difficult job presenting a case for the defence - Harriet’s identification of Thomas was solid, the link between him and the murder weapon was solid, and then there was all the blood. Nevertheless, he tried, as he always did. His poor WIFE AND CHILDREN! How could they convict a man just because he had BLOOD ON HIM?
“It was extremely unlikely that the prisoner, a man of good character, of whom even his most deadly opponents - the son of the murdered man and his servant girl - had nothing to say against, could be the murderer. For nearly two years, he had lived a short distance from the house and if he had desired plunder his opportunities must have been frequent, and yet the prosecution wished them to believe that he waited until he had removed a mile further away before he attempted the crime. Then, again, the prisoner and his family were on friendly terms with the murdered man and his children had been petted and caressed by the mistress […] Was it probable that the kindess would be replaced this way?”
Mr Metcalfe preferred to blame the murder on a random lunatic, wandering unseen around Wood Burcote. And as for Harriet’s identification
“Women make up their minds quicker than men, and although liable to make mistakes, it is a difficult matter to get them to change their opinions.”
He finished up by saying that if Thomas had done the murder, he would have used a shoemaker’s blade rather than a massive cutlass, pehaps thinking of Richard Addington.
The judge advised the jury that the charge was solely of murder, so they needed to decide whether Thomas did it or not. He also advised them that, even if Harriet was lying, they still had considerable physical evidence to take into account.
The jury took ten minutes to find Thomas guilty.
“All I have to say is that I am innocent of this charge.”
The judge sentenced him to death, without mercy.
After Thomas was removed from court, the judge thanked Harriet for her brave evidence. It turned out that Martha Chamberlain had not been quite the meek wife she seemed - she had been writing intimidating and threatening letters to Harriet since Thomas’ arrest, to try and stop her testifying. A subscription was later raised for Harriet, to thank her for her bravery both on the night of the murder and in court: she was later presented with a Bible and £30.
There was no campaign to reprieve Thomas: his actions were seen as beyond redemption, unlike Richard Addington. A week or so after the sentence was passed, a grim discovery was made in the Chamberlain’s house. Thomas was obsessed with murder, and kept clippings of every violent crime reported in the newspaper.
Thousands of them.
Thomas’ execution was scheduled for Monday 30th March. In prison, he refused to confess, or to repent. A few days before his death, his wife, children and brother went to visit him. They laughed and joked, with none of the expected solemnity. Martha was indignant about Harriet’s subscription money, and said it should be paid to her. They all agreed Harriet and the police were lying about the murder. Thomas told his brother that he thought the jailers thought he was going to try and commit suicide on his way to the gallows. None of them seemed to grasp the gravity or the reality of the situation, although Thomas wept when they left.
Thomas’ execution was the first at Northampton since Richard Addington’s, nearly three years earlier. The procedure was the same: quick and private. Thomas remained unmoved throughout his final morning, commenting that
“I’ve never felt better in my life”
He ate a hearty breakfast, light-heartedly complained about the tight pinioning of his arms to his body, smiled at the warders, and died without fear or fight. The executioner, William Marwood, shaken by Thomas’ composure, commented:
“The man must have been a monster”
John Cox Newitt was murdered on a Sunday, his prayer and quiet contemplation of scripture interrupted by savage and meaningless death. This imagery was repeated throughout the legal proceedings, as was the assumption that Thomas’ motive was financial. He’d worked for the Newitts, knew they had money, and he evidently lived in poverty. However, Thomas made no attempt to rob the Newitts - Jonh Newitt’s pockets were full of cash, nothing was missing from the house. Maybe this was because he was interrupted, or feared interruption after Harriet left the house. Maybe his intention was to kill Harriet quietly, and then go after the old man.
Or maybe Harriet was always his target.
Thomas and Harriet knew each other well. Harriet stated in court that she saw him nearly every day. They often walked around Wood Burcote together, and sometimes to church together. Thomas was in the habit of bringing parcels left at the tollhouse to the Newitt house, which he was rewarded for, but he didn’t generally go in the house, unlike his children who went there fairly often.
There was no hint of impropriety about this relationship in the court and inquest testimonies, but was certainly a little more intense than the usual relationship between married man and much younger servant. Martha Chamberlain seemed jealous of Harriet, and was certainly jealous of the subscription money.
Harriet had no lack of life experience, which she alluded to in her evidence: not only had she been shot, but it was also implied that she’d been ill-used by two men.
Perhaps Thomas had become obsessed with her. Perhaps she had declined his advances. If so, she never mentioned it.
When he entered the house, he did not attempt to steal anything. He did not go and rob the old man at knifepoint. No. He went straight to the kitchen - straight to her, and was standing directly behind her when she turned to see who was in the kitchen. Throughout his attack, he remained too close to her to get the (ridiculously huge) cutlass to bite into her. God knows how he imagined this scene playing out, but it seems he intended to behead her.
If Thomas killed the ‘wrong’ person, maybe this is why he was so indifferent during his trial, and so passionately convinced of his innocence after his conviction.
After Thomas was executed, the newspapers wondered if he comitted murder merely to achieve notoriety, to become infamous. Thomas was particularly interested in the career of George Victor Townley, who murdered his ex-girlfriend. He was found guilty, but later reprieved due to insanity. A year later, he took his own life, jumping from a prison stairwell. Townley’s crime took place in 1863, a long time to dwell. Perhaps Thomas assumed he’d be reprieved as well, and this is why he was so complacent about dying.
Harriet returned to Bloxham after the trial, and got married in September 1874. She died there in 1923.
Martha Chamberlain never remarried. She moved to Daventry and died there in 1905. Sarah may have died in 1883, but I cannot trace William.
William Cox Newitt
1802-1873
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