A young wife, a lover, a dying husband – but was it murder?
THE STORY SO FAR
Florence Chandler was swept off her young feet by the older, wealthy tycoon James Maybrick. But a whirlwind romance soon turned into an unhappy marriage – was murder the only way out?
THE CASE
Sea voyages between New York and Liverpool were long and boring. But in March 1880, passengers had a lot to gossip about, as it appeared that love had sparked between the most unlikely pair.
James Maybrick was 51, a Liverpudlian who’d made his fortune trading cotton. Florence ‘Florie’ Chandler was 18, a beautiful banker’s daughter from Alabama. Their love was a whirlwind and soon the couple had married and settled in Liverpool.
Florence had a son, James, and daughter, Gladys. But her marriage wasn’t happy. Maybrick often left Florence home alone. He had mistresses, too. One even had five children with him.
In time, Florence also took a lover – Alfred Brierley, a local cotton broker. But then Maybrick found out. He beat Florence and vowed to divorce her. She’d be ruined.
Distraught, she wrote to Alfred Brierley, ending their affair.
But soon after, on 27 April 1889, Maybrick grew sick. His doctor diagnosed gastroenteritis and prescribed drugs. Florence took charge of her husband’s medicines and, on 29 April, Maybrick rallied. But later that day, his condition worsened.
Worried, his brother Edwin moved in. And, on 8 May, the nanny gave Edwin some devastating news…
Florence had asked her to post a letter. She’d opened it, discovered it was to Alfred Brierley.
It read:
Dearest, M is sick unto death. The doctors held a consultation yesterday, and now all depends upon how long his strength will hold out. My darling, relieve your mind of all fear of discovery. M has been delirious since Sunday, and… is perfectly ignorant of everything, even of the name of the street. (My letters) were written under circumstances which must excuse their injustice. Do you suppose that I could act as I am doing, if I really felt and meant what I inferred then? Yours ever, Florie.
Edwin was horrified. Especially when the servants said that, days before Maybrick had fallen ill, Florence had bought a dozen sheets of flypaper, infused with arsenic. And since then, she’d had them soaking in a basin.
Had Florence poisoned her husband, so that she could be with her lover?
Edwin hired nurses to take over Maybrick’s care. One day, a nurse spotted Florence fiddling with a bottle of his medicinal ‘meat juice’. Suspicious, the nurse used another bottle instead. But it made no difference. On 11 May, Maybrick died. Tests showed arsenic in his stomach.
Florence was arrested and charged with murder. Crowds packed her trial at Liverpool Assizes in July 1889. Chemists testified she’d bought 12 arsenic flypapers on 24 April. Then five days later (the day Maybrick had rallied), Florence had bought another 24 sheets.
‘It’s an extraordinary thing,’ Prosecutor Mr Addison QC said, ‘that when her husband was just recovering, she should have bought these further flypapers.’ And what about her letter to Alfred Brierley?
On 8 May she’d written that Maybrick was sick unto death. But doctors insisted James had actually been on the mend. Tests showed the meat juice had arsenic in.
Addison boomed that it was, ‘A murder founded upon adultery.’
But now it was time for Florence’s defence. Three top doctors testified that Maybrick had died of gastroenteritis. But then his brother Michael Maybrick had suggested traces of arsenic had been found in James’ stomach. Was that really a surprise?
It emerged James Maybrick had been addicted to arsenic-based medicines since contracting malaria 15 years before. Former mayor Sir James Poole confirmed he’d often scolded Maybrick for it. Dr Hopper, who’d treated Maybrick’s chronic stomach conditions for seven years, now testified about his addiction. ‘Was he given to dosing himself?’ he was asked. ‘Of taking larger doses than prescribed? ‘Did he tell you that he had taken arsenic?’ ‘Yes,’ Dr Hopper answered to each question.
The doctor also recalled talking to Florence about it a year before. ‘She told me Mr Maybrick was in the habit of taking some very strong medicine, which had a bad influence on him. She wished me to… remonstrate with him.’ So had she in fact tried to save his life?
But what of the flypapers? Florence explained that she’d had ‘an eruption’ of spots. So she’d bought the arsenic flypaper to make a face wash. The chemist admitted that women frequently bought it for this purpose, soaking the sheets in water.
As for the meat juice? Florence explained that Maybrick had told her he was depressed. Then asked her to put a ‘harmless’ powder into his meat juice. ‘I was overwrought, miserably unhappy and his evident distress entirely unnerved me,’ Florence said. ‘I consented. My Lord, I had no-one to consult and no-one to advise me.’
So had Maybrick actually caused his own death? Was it gastroenteritis after all, not murder? Or was Florence a killer, as well as a love cheat?
Go to page 2 to find out what happened next
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