"The Old Brute Has Done It"
No retribution
Happy New Year!
I turned my laptop off for ten whole days, which is unheard of. Did you miss me?
The house has returned to ‘normal’ (which I crave and then loathe), and we’re getting back into the school run (which we all need, but do not love), and I have this strange and lingering sense that I haven’t made enough of Christmas. My plans, my ‘resolutions’, this year are minimal. I spent most of last year feeling utterly overwhelmed, and I don’t fancy that again. Not yet, not while there is still cheese in the fridge and Pringles on the side.
But I remain committed to the Friday Murder Club (although perhaps not the platform…)
This week, we’re in Godmanchester in 1891.
Ann Gifford was born in Upwell, a small village near Wisbech, towards the end of 1822. She was the only child of a labouring couple, John and Sarah Gifford. The Giffords took over a pub in Godmanchester in the 1830s, on Cambridge Street, then known as East Street. Godmanchester was a stagecoach stop on the Great North Road, and had a lot of through traffic running between London and York: pubs were necessary and numerous.
In late 1840, Ann became pregnant and married Samuel Mason before the end of the year. While they waited for their baby to be born, they lived with her parents at the pub. Samuel was nine years older than Ann, a native of Godmanchester, and a builder by trade.
By 1851, her parents had left the pub, and lived comfortably on London Street, and Ann and Samuel lived on Old Court Hall. They had five children,with two more to follow before 1861. Samuel was often employed by the town council to fix drains, a secure employment, and he was a longstanding freeman of the town. He was often appointed ‘grass-hirer’, giving him the right to cut the grass on the commons, to either make hay or sell to make hay. He had, at different times, run both the White Hart and the Queens’ Head.
In 1854, Ann’s mother died and her father moved in with the couple. They moved to Cambridge Street, to a house with a smallholding at the rear. Based on a newspaper description, I believe the house is the modern 16 Cambridge Street. Ann opened a grocer’s shop there in the 1860s.
There were some minor misfortunes: in 1873 and 1874, they experienced fires on the land behind their house, burning down haystacks and a barn. In 1886, a bolt of lightning hit their chimney. Nobody was harmed in these incidents, the insurance paid out in full. But in general, the Masons were a respectable, even prosperous family.
Their children began to move out in the 1860s, taking apprenticeships and jobs in service. One daughter briefly moved back in when her husband died, and the Masons raised their fatherless granddaughter. Four of their daughters settled in Manchester, but their sons stayed closer to home. Ann’s father died, aged ninety, in late 1881. As his only child, Ann inherited all his property, which was leased out.
John Gifford’s death meant that, for the first time in more than forty years of marriage, the Mason household consisted of just husband and wife. Samuel retired from building, and although he was nominally a shopkeeper, Ann was the person actually running it. Their eldest daughter, Harriet, was unmarried and spent some time at home in this last decade.
Samuel always had a quick temper. In 1842, he hit a man messing about at an auction, and the case was dismissed. In 1866, a pickpocket targeted him and Samuel almost broke the man’s wrist. In 1868, he assaulted a lamplighter in the town, and the case was again dismissed. But this was inconsequential stuff. It was whispered in the town that Samuel mistreated his wife, and his fondness for drink was well known. Samuel became erratic as he got older, as many people do. His behaviour worsened after Christmas in 1890, and he was seized with a paranoia that people were trying to poison his food with arsenic.
Ann was very concerned, and sent for her son Charles. Charles was living in Manchester at the time, and began to put the arrangements in place for his father to go into an asylum. Ann was desperate for Samuel to stay at home. Just before the arrangements were completed, Samuel got suddenly better. The admission was cancelled, but Charles lingered in Godmanchester.
Samuel may have been better, but he was still paranoid and sullen. On Friday 13th February 1891, Charles went into Huntingdon. Harriet, who was also at home, went out to buy some bacon at 11am. Samuel and Ann were alone.
The house had a kitchen at the rear, with a scullery behind it, as shown in this illustration:
About half an hour after Harriet left the house, Mrs Brighty who lived across the yard, heard a scream. She didn’t do anything, but a few minutes later, Ann staggered out of the yard through the gateway. She was unrecognisable, terribly beaten and bleeding profusely from head injuries. She staggered across the road toward the Little Swan pub, and Samuel left the house and walked in the opposite direction.
Ann couldn’t get into the pub, so she went to Louisa Mitchel’s house next door and was attended to by her friends, Mrs Little (who ran the pub) and Mrs Thackray. Ann told them:
“The old brute has done it! He done it with a hammer! He got me down in the kitchen and hammered my poor head!”
They gave her a little brandy, and she became unconscious. There were no doctors to be found in Godmanchester, and a young man galloped to Huntingdon Hospital (less than four miles away) to find help. Dr Lucas, the family’s usual physician, eventually found his way to Godmanchester, but Ann died at 1:50pm.
The Mason’s scullery was covered in blood and broken instruments. A broken umbrella, broken sticks, a broom handle broken into three separate pieces, all bloodied. By the kitchen door leading into the yard, a cricket bat covered in blood. This had been a frenzied, multi-weapon attack. It seemed that Ann had been preparing sausages in the scullery and was attacked from behind with the broom. After dropping to the ground, Samuel continued his murderous assault. When she somehow managed to get up and get to the kitchen, he hit her again with a cricket bat.
God only knows how she managed to keep going, to get to safety.
Samuel was arrested for aggravated assault shortly after the attack, having got as far as the Hog and Chequers, a pub on the corner of Church Lane (now Chadley Lane - the pub is now a salon). He had tried to cover up the bloodstains all over his clothing with limeplaster, and washed the blood off his boots in a puddle, but it was a most half-hearted attempt. He did not resist arrest. He was taken directly before the mayor of Godmanchester, and while Louisa Mitchel gave evidence, a messenger entered the court and told them Ann was dead. In response, Samuel said:
“I couldn’t help it. I was so muddled up with the drugs.”
He was taken to Cambridge prison.
Ann’s inquest was held on the evening of her death, and the verdict was wilful murder. On Wednesday 18th February, Samuel appeared in front of the mayor again. A defence of insanity was already being built, with witnesses giving evidence that Samuel believed he was being drugged by his wife, daughter and neighbours. However, he was committed to trial, and returned to Cambridge prison to wait for the next assize.
From the beginning, Samuel was considered too feeble to work in prison. By the end of March, Samuel was very ill and admitted to the infirmary ward in the prison. He still firmly believed that he was being poisoned. His death on 5th April came as no surprise. He was never tried.
Samuel requested to be buried with his wife. And as he was never convicted of her murder, this was permitted. He was buried beside her in the churchyard of St Mary’s on 9th April.
It’s probable that Samuel would have been found insane if had been tried, and therefore not guilty. It’s likely that his family, especially his wife, would have been held culpable for not allowing him to be admitted to an asylum. And Samuel was certainly not in good health at the time of the murder.
But Samuel had been abusing Ann for years, behind closed doors. He was respected, but he wasn’t liked. His own son was unsurprised that he’d attacked Ann.
Regardless of sanity, he waited for his family to go out, and attacked his wife from behind. The cover-up was mediocre, but he did try to cover it up. So I’ll end by reminding you of the M’Naghten rules for a legal defence of insanity.
Did he know what he was doing? Did he know what he was doing was wrong?
Ann Mason
(1822-1891)
Such a tragic case, poor Ann 😢