The Bank Of England Mystery - The Legend of Jon Smiff.

The story concerning an illiterate man called Jon Smiff finding his way through the sewers and into the vault of the Bank of England has been doing the rounds since the late nineteenth century. Apparently this story comes from the year 1836, but the earliest telling of this tale that I can find comes from The Stroud News and Gloucestershire Advertiser on Friday 23rd October 1891.

It all began with a letter, which read;

"Two Gentlemin off Bank of England: Yee think yow is all safe hand your Bank is safe, butt i knows better.  i bin hinside the Bank the last 2 nite hand yow nose nuffin abowt it.

But i um nott a theaf, so hif yeo will mete mee in the gret squar rom, werh arl the moneiys, at twelf 2 nite Ile ixplain orl to yoew. let only 1, her 2 cum alown, and say nuffin 2 nobody. - Jon Smiff."

The letter caused some consternation amongst the directors of the bank, some thought it a hoax. Armed with the letter the directors all agreed it would be better in the hands of police, and detectives were duly sent for. The detectives took the letter very seriously indeed, there seemed to be a plot here and it needed investigating. I'll leave it up to the The Stroud News and Gloucestershire Advertiser to take up the story.

"The detectives looked grave, and with their usual penetration they penetrated the deepest depths of the iniquity.

There is a very large room underground, where the huge wealth of the bank is deposited - millions and millions of English sovereigns, bars of gold, and hundredweights of silver, with myriads of notes. The detectives, of course, knew that this room must be the place which the writer of the letter had designated as 'the gret squar rom.' It is full of treasure. It's floor is a solid stone pavement, and it's walls, roof, and door are of wrought iron and steel.

All night long the detectives were secreted in the room, but they saw nothing and heard nothing, with the exception that some say they heard, about one or two o'clock, a strange noise they could not account for. The next night was the same, and the next, and the next; and when the board day of the bank came round the whole of the directors would have treated the affair as an idle attempt to frighten them had not their attention been more strongly called to the subject by the following incident.

A heavy chest had been forwarded addressed to the 'Directors of the Bank of England.' The chest was of course opened before them at once - such a thing being very unusual - and found to contain a large packet of most valuable papers and securities which had been safely deposited in the vault. With them was the following letter:

'To the Directors of the Bank of England.

Gentlemen, 

My husband, who is an honest man, wrote to you last week, and told you that he had found a way - which he believes is only known to himself - of getting into your strong room, and offered, if you would meet him there at night, to explain the whole matter.

He had never taken anything from that room except the enclosed box. You set detectives on him, and he took the box to show that he could go there, if he chose, whoever might watch.

He gives you another chance. Let a few gentlemen be in the room alone, guard the door, and make everything secure, and my husband will meet you there at midnight.

Yours respectfully,

Ellen Smith.'

This letter was more mysterious than the last. The only thing that was evident was that the writer, 'Ellen Smith' was a better scholar than her husband, who styled himself 'Jon Smiff.'

The detectives were shown the letter, and acted accordingly. Of course they saw through 'the dodge.' The cleverest men were posted in the room. In the morning they told a strange story. They said they saw a light come from a dark lantern; but directly they ran to the spot whence the light proceeded, it went out and the strictest search had discovered nothing.

The bank officials became alarmed. They, however, agreed to do what perhaps would have been wiser if done at first - viz, to depute a few of their number to visit the vault alone. So it was arranged that three gentlemen should remain in the strong room all night, and that no one else should be with them.

Every suitable precaution was taken when night came. The sentinel paced up and down outside; the detectives were not far off; and after the most rigorous search had been instituted, the gentlemen were locked in.

At last one of them, who paced the floor rather impatiently, beginning to think that perhaps after all it was only a clever trick, cried out: 'You ghost, you secret visitor, you midnight thief, come out! There is no one here but two gentlemen and myself. If you are afraid, I give you my word of honour as a gentleman that the police are not here. Come out, I say!'

It was more in jest than in earnest that Major C, for he was a military man, shouted out the absurd speech, for, as we have said, he had begun to suspect that after all some practical joke was being adroitly carried on, such having more than once before been perpetrated, and he did not much like being victimised himself.

His astonishment, however, was great when, in reply, he heard a strange voice saying 'If you have kept your word, I will keep mine. Put out your light, for I've one, and then I'll come.'

The Major and his fellow directors did not much like putting out the light, but they were not cowards, and after some demur, it was done. Where the voice came from was, however, a mystery, for there were no hiding places in the room, every side being of thick, many plated iron and steel; the ceiling was also of the same material.

When the light was out they waited in silence, while the Major grasped firmly in one hand a revolver, and in the other held the lantern and a few matches. For a little while a low, grating sound was heard, and then a voice, evidently that of someone in the room, said; 'Are you three alone, sure?'

The Major, who cared for nothing in bodily forms, struck a match, and instantly a crash was heard, and a low, smothering laugh. When the match was lighted, nothing could be detected - no one was there. Again the Major called upon the mysterious somebody to come forth, and again a voice was heard saying, 'How can I trust you now.'

The Major was angry, and his companions alarmed, and after trying in vain to trace the point whence the voice proceeded, he exclaimed: 'Well, we'll put out the light again; only come quickly, and make an end to this bother.' So saying, he put out the light again.

A moment or two after, the same grating sound was heard, then the falling of some heavy body, and the next instant a man was visible standing in the middle of the vault with a dark lantern in his hand. Of course he had come from somewhere, but the puzzle was - how? A ghost could not have entered more mysteriously.

The man soon spoke for himself; and the directors, who were a little at a loss to explain his presence there, listened in astonishment. It appeared that he was a poor man, and obtained a precarious living in a strange way. When the tide was low, it is the custom of a certain class of people, unknown to refined society, to enter the sewers to search for any articles of value which may have been washed down into them. It is a very dangerous task, and, of course, revolting in the extreme, but they not infrequently find very precious things hidden in the filth. This man was one of those strange adventurers.

One night he discovered an opening leading to some place above. There was a large square stone, which he found could be easily raised. He listened for some time, and, finding all was silent, lifted up the stone without much difficulty, and found, after some little investigation by the light of his lantern, that he was in the strong room of the bank.

These men, like miners, can readily determine the exact spot of ground under which they are; and he soon had a clue to the whole mystery. He told his wife, who was a woman of superior education to his own, of the whole affair; and then she wrote, as we have seen, to the directors.

Down in the sewer he was able to hear all their movements as well as above ground, and thus was not only able to know their plans, but to frustrate them, and of course could watch his time to remove the small but valuable box, to leave the letters on the table, and to appear so mysteriously.

No one had thought of looking to the stone pavement, which was supposed to be solid and immovable, as it was known that there were no vaults below, although the iron walls and doors had been carefully tested. The mystery was now cleared up, and the man was well rewarded."

So there it is, the Bank of England mystery. If this all sounds rather familiar, you would be right, in the August of 1891 Strand Magazine published The Red Headed League by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

In a nutshell, this story is about a red headed shopkeeper who is chosen from many other red headed men to copy out the Encyclopedia Brittanica for a tidy sum. While he is thus engaged his new (and a bit dodgy) shop assistant is busy tunnelling from the shop cellar to a nearby bank vault, where there is a huge deposit of gold to be had.

Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson get involved and the whole case is brought to a climactic close in the bank vault.

Two months later we have a rather similar story, albeit concerning an honest man with good intentions. Jon Smiff, I declare, is a story made up by "an enterprising journalist" (as the police said of the Dear Boss letter during the Ripper murders of 1888) who had read and was inspired by The Red Headed League.

Prowling Penciller And The Pipe Of Peace - or - Oh Oh Oh Opium.

The date is the 30th September 1893, the newspaper is The Illustrated Police Budget, and this rather jocular tale is both an educational soujon and a warning of the dangers of the opium den. It came at a time when there was a Royal Commission on Opium looking into its usage and effects. I transcribe this story verbatim from the original with all it's outdated vernacular, please bear that in mind.

"Did you ever try opium, Prowler?" said the boss to me the other day, as I strolled jauntily into the office. I was horror stricken. "Heavens!" I replied, "I am addicted to many small vices, but -------"

"Never mind your small vices," returned the great and mighty; "I asked you a simple question, and I want a straightforward answer." "Then," I remarked, in that weak tone which always characterises my interviews with the superior creature, "I can safely say that the noxious drug is beyond my ken."

"I thought so. Your truculence has shown it, and you must bring a soothing influence to bear upon your future conduct." He spoke in that masterful way of his, which I have always attempted to resent, I being one of "the heirs of all the ages in the foremost, files of Time," and he being merely the instrument through which these precious reminiscences are given to the public.

"Look here!" I exclaimed. He looked, and then the heir subsided. A slight cough followed, and he knew that he had conquered the rebellious spirit. "Prowler, " he resumed, "do you know that the Opium Commission has been sitting?" " I presume it is not a standing committee," I replied, looking at him with a sickly smile. He cast upon me a withering glance, and I immediately searched for my hat.

"Prowler, I have had some experience of your jokes," he said; "but you must not attempt to play them off upon me. Keep them, sir, for a comic paper; the editor may have more mercy upon you than I have." 

"Alas!" I observed, with a sigh, "he may, indeed." The glance he gave me was unutterable, and I actually trembled.

"The business I have now in store for you," said the boss, as he flung himself back in his chair and looked at his fingertips, "may be fraught with some difficulty; but I know, Prowler, that difficulties only present themselves to you for the purpose of being overcome. Now, I asked you the question 'Have you ever tried opium?'"

"Never, guv'nor, never!" I answered.

"Then you must. That's all."

"Sir," I began, looking extremely serious, "the opium eater is one of the vilest specimens of humanity, and surely you do not wish me to emulate such a being."

"Prowler, dear boy, you must not speak to me in that way. You are evidently labouring under some wild delusion regarding the victim of the opium habit. You must read the reports of the Opium Commission, and find what some of the doctors say. The question of the moment seems to be, 'Is the use of the poppy injurious or is it not?' Now, you must go and settle the matter as far as your observation can penetrate."

"It is a weighty order," I replied; "but as I know the alternative, I shall do my best."

"Prowler, you are invaluable!"

He grasped my hand, and any wavering I might previously have experienced vanished in a moment. The grasp of a boss cures tremor. I went downstairs with that elation in my soul which makes a surrounding of roses. My mission was clear before me, and the bus or rail was the means of accomplishment. I chose the former.

"Blackwall!" shouted the gentleman who superintends the arrangement on board the vessel of the highway. 

"Right you are!" I responded, and immediately took a berth.

There probably is not a more dreary ride in the metropolis than that between Bank and Limehouse. No building that you pass is connected with anything which inspires the soul with the grander and more ennobling feelings of humanity. All is sordid - sordid as was the errand upon which I was bound.

I had been directed to Limehouse by a friend who had once been on the same prowl, and said he knew all about it. When I reached the fine old church, which stands on the right, and looms large over that riparian locality, I descended from my perch on the bus and began to look around. Up to that moment I had made no special agreement with myself as to what plan I should pursue to find any particular den wherein the Indian drug was consumed.

So I did exactly what ninety nine men out of a hundred would have done under the circumstances. I "asked a p'liceman." He was a very fine and large specimen of the fraternity, but alas! he could give me no information.

"Don't know nothin' about 'em," he said, with a magnificent down east accent. "There ain't none on my beat, nohow."

"But surely you must have heard of these places?" I urged.

"No, never 'eard nothin', not a word."

This gentleman of negatives slightly disconcerted me. Had I left my beloved Fleet Street on a wild goose chase? Surely not.

London Street, Limehouse - Joseph Pennell 1899

"Do you think they could give me any information at the police station?" I asked.

"Don't know, I'm sure."

"Where is the police station?"

"Go up the street there, and you'll see the blue lamp."

This was something definite at last, so I had to be satisfied with the hope that I might glean an intelligible answer from the inspector on duty.

I found him a very civil fellow indeed; but no, he was very sorry, they had no opium dens in that locality at all events. "But 'Edwin Drood,' and the Strand Magazine, and all that sort of thing, can't be wrong," I said. "Such places must exist."

"I have no doubt they do," was the reply; "but I have no knowledge of them." Here was a decided check. Still I was not to be baffled. The vision of my irate boss sprang up before me, and I went at it again.

"Have you any idea where I should go to gain the information I want? Here is my card, and you can see that it is not for the purpose of indulging in the narcotic that I wish to find out the spot."

"Oh, I can understand that very well, sir, but I can tell you nothing for certain. If you went nearer to the docks, where some of the large ocean vessels are, you might probably stand a chance of learning something amongst the Chinese and Lascars."

"Ah, very good!" I replied. "That's is precisely the point that I wish to get at."

He gave me some directions, and I set out on a further voyage of discovery, till I arrived at a villainously low public house which I thought likely to answer my purpose. There was a slatternly barmaid inside, and on my making enquiries she was quite willing to let me know all that I required.

"Oh yes," she said, "we often have visitors like you come round and ask us questions about the opium dens. If John was here he would tell you all about the places, and take you with him for a trifle."

"Bless you," I returned, "John is the very gentleman I want to find. Can you inform me where I am likely to light on him."

"He generally comes in about this time. These three are waiting for him now."

She pointed at some individuals in the next compartment, and I craned my neck round the partition and saw that they were Celestials.

They were evidently of the lowest class of Chinese coolies, and by their dirty appearance could not have been long out of the stokehole of some eastern liner. Their high cheekbones seemed ready to burst through their skin, so thin and emaciated they were, while their almond shaped eyes were the merest slits in the face.

They wore the coarse cotton blouses of their race, with little round caps, and were altogether the most unprepossessing like creatures one would care to meet.

"What sort of a man is John?" I asked of the barmaid.

"He's a Chinaman like the rest, only he doesn't dress quite the same way."

"A little more civilised, I suppose?"

"Well, I don't know much about that, sir, some of the people that come to see him are civilised enough; but here his is to answer for himself."

As she spoke, a short, shrivelled up old chap came in, wearing a thick woolen comforter round his neck and a long overcoat. Although he had a pigtail like the others, he had allowed the rest of his hair to grow to the orthodox English length, and this crop of coarse stubble was surmounted by a cap of the coster fashion.

"Good evening John," I said; "will you join me in a drop of something to drink?"

He winked slyly, and expanded his wide mouth in a grin of the largest dimensions I had ever seen.

"Me belly glad," he returned.

Asking him what his peculiar weakness was, I was slightly astonished at his confessing a partiality for port wine. Knowing the Oriental objection to intoxicating beverages, I had thought that the fermented juice of the grape would not have met with his approval; but I was to discover many strange things that night.

When John had interviewed his three customers he came back to me, and offered to take me to his house. It was not far to the scene of luxury where the delights of opium smoking are indulged in; but I would advise no one to attempt to reach it without a guide. Down an archway, and through a small court reeking with the odours of indescribable garbage, and out again into a little square of old two story houses, which were all in a state verging upon ruin.

At the corner was a dingy wooden hovel which John claimed as his own, and towards which he directed his footsteps, followed by your humble servant and the three Celestials. At the door the proprietor called for a light, and it was much needed, for the passage beyond was black as the entrance to the nether regions.

A youngish woman, very thin and pale, with her hair done up in a dishevelled knot at the back of her head, made a response to the call, carrying a common tin oil lamp. This was Mrs John, as I afterwards discovered, and an Englishwoman. How she had entered into the bonds of wedlock with this queer looking specimen of humanity whom she called husband there was no means of learning, and I did not care to pry too deeply into their domestic affairs.

She did not seem in the least surprised at seeing a visitor in the garb of civilisation; but politely asked me to walk up. The stairs were very rickety; but I managed to clamber up them with safety, and came in full view of the master's establishment.

It was an extremely mean and miserable little room. The fireplace was narrow and the ashes of many days had accumulated underneath. There was no fender. In the centre of the place a round table stood upon three legs, and on either side of the fire was a common wooden chair. The most conspicuous article of furniture was a large old fashioned, four poster bedstead, on which the bed was arranged according to the Chinese fashion.

It was rolled up like a huge bolster all along the length of the bedstead, leaving the mattress bare except for a large grass mat. The bed hangings were of some light gauzy stuff, but dirty, like everything else in the room, and hitched up at intervals on bare nails. A few tawdry, highly coloured pictures decorated the walls, and contrasted grimly with the blackened paper upon which they hung. The ceiling was as black as the walls, and just over the window there had been a fall of plaster, showing the laths behind, through which the rain had at some period percolated and run down, leaving long streaks upon the sides of the room.

The preparations for enjoying the luxury of opium smoking were now entered upon by John; and I awaited the result with great interest.

John is supposed to be the most expert preparer of opium in the whole of the western hemisphere, so far as Europe is distinct from Asia, and has had many visits from alummans of high degree to witness the method of making the drug ready. This is the most interesting portion of the whole.

The implements required are a small lamp with a shade over it, and a hole bodkin or picker, sharp at one end, and with the other flat, and last, but not least, the pipe itself. The point of the bodkin is first dipped into a small pot or bowl containing a black, treacly looking substance, and twirled rapidly round between the finger and thumb.Naturally a small portion of the substance adheres to the dipper, and this is transferred immediately to the lamp, and passed about in the flame till it is sufficiently hardened. After that the operation is repeated, another coating of the opium being placed upon the surface of the first adhering drop, and so on until the little lump has grown to the size of a marrow fat pea.

Now comes the excitement, if it may be called so.

The smoker mounts the bed with his back and head against the rolled up portion, and his lower extremities stretched out on the mattress. He takes the pipe in his hand, and lies there all anticipatory of the pleasures to come.

The pipe itself is not an enticing implement. It suggests an intoxication of music rather than of anything more detrimental to the human system. In fact, it is simply a flute like bit of bamboo about eighteen inches to a couple of feet in length, with a bowl fixed into it some two or three inches from the end. There is no mouthpiece whatsoever, the smoker taking the whole tip of the reed into his mouth. The top of the bowl is flat, with a small orifice in the centre.

The inhalation of the drug is commenced with the transference of the pellet of opium to the little receptacle in the bowl of the pipe. This requires some dexterity, but John is an adept of many years' practice, and he never misses the exact point. From the flame to the pipe is but a short distance, and when the small lump has been cooked to the requisite turn, he nips it into the holder with the eye of an expert. He then reverses the end of the dipper and presses it upon the pipe, forcing it well down.

The smoker was now the object of my strict attention.

With the bowl of the pipe held over the flame of the lamp, he slowly drew in a long, deep breath. The veins of his forehead soon began to swell, and the dull, leaden pallor of his face gave place to a brighter tint. The heavy eyes emitted a gleam, and the nostrils expanded.

One inhalation and the smoke was swallowed, being afterwards sent forth in a tiny stream from both mouth and nose, though the smoker tried to retain as much of it as possible. The second and third inhalation followed, and then the form became more flaccid, the eyes drooped and the breathing was slow, but regular.

The fourth and fifth draws of the pipe seemed scarcely so powerful, and when the last was finished the man arose, handed over the pipe, and paid some money, to the expectant John.

"Where do they live when they're ashore?" I asked of Mrs John, referring to the smokers.

"Mostly at the Asiatic Home," she replied, "but some of them live on board the vessels where they are employed, seldom come ashore at all."

"And does your husband do a great trade?"

John heard my question, and looked up with that smile which was anything but "childlike and bland."

It was a low, cunning, wicked leer, which I have seldom seen on a Chinese visage; but which was marvelously portrayed upon the face of the opium cook.

"Me do belly well - sometime," he said.

"How many customers might you have a day, on an average?" I enquired, for I was anxious to get all the information possible, to satisfy the capacious maw of my omnivorous boss.

"Oh, they come very thick at times," answered the lady. "It all depends on the vessels."

"But do you have no regular customers?"

"Oh, yes, we have some."

"Any English?"

She glanced at me with a quick, penetrating glint of the eye, and then, turning to her husband, coughed slightly.

John understood the signal, and shrugged his shoulders.

I saw what that meant. My questioning had gone far enough. There but one way to open a Chinese heart and mouth, if the possessor wishes to keep them closed, and I guessed that way in once. The rapid transfer of a comparatively large silver disc from my pocket to that of my friend John acted like magic.

"Yes," he said, "me hab some Engliss."

I had expected this answer, though I was not altogether sure.

"Where do they come from?" I enquired of the wife.

"I'm sure I can't tell you that," she replied. "Some of them appear to be very wealthy, others are just as poor."

"Any females amongst them?"

Again she gave me that sharp look, but answered for herself.

"They are mostly ladies."

This was a bit of information I did not anticipate.

"Ladies?" I echoed.

"Yes, real ladies. They come in carriages, which they leave at a little distance, and then slip down here quietly."

"But are they dressed as ladies?"

"Oh no! They have generally old dresses on, with a cloak or waterproof over them; but that doesn't deceive me. Don't I John?"

The den keeper, who was preparing another pipe, looked over his shoulder and nodded.

"But how on earth could they have found this place out?" I asked in astonishment. "I'm sure I couldn't get in here again without a guide."

"I don't know," she replied. "I suppose one brought another, and so on."

"Me know all about it," interposed the husband. "Man fust bought 'nudda flend. Now come one, two, the, fo', five - none mo'."

"Then you have only five lady customers," I said.

"Only five real ladies," Mrs John replied, "but we have several other women."

"Of what class?"

"Women who have been in India or China. I believe the ladies have been in the east, but I never ask them."

This was all a revelation to me, and I must confess I hardly believed it; but the serious manner of the woman, who spoke of the things as a matter of course, went far towards convincing me.

"And do they come into this room, and smoke that pipe?" I asked, pointing at the blackened bamboo tube, which was now being sucked at by another of the Orientals.

"No," she replied, "we have another room downstairs in'o which we take our better class of customers. There is another pipe there, too; but though it looks better, it's not nearly so good as this one."

"Ah! I see! It improves by seasoning, like a tobacco pipe."

"Just so. The older the pipe, the better the stronger smokers like it."

"Then there are different degrees of smokers?"

"Oh, yes, There are fourpenny smokers, and any price up to half a crown."

"But I suppose those who can afford it give you a good price?"

John looked up at this, with that imp like expression which he sometimes assumed.

"Me belly poo'. Good people gib me good monee."

"So they ought," I returned, not wishing to pursue the subject too closely, lest I might give offence. "Your best customers, I suppose, are eastern gentlemen?" I resumed.

"No, I don't think they are," said the woman. "You see, there are some people who can prepare their own gum, and there are others belonging to embassies, and such like, who have servants who can do it; but there's not one of them equal to John."

There was a touch of pride in the way she spoke of her husband, and an affectionate look upon her wan face, which showed me that somehow or other this strange creature had a warm heart for the man she had wedded, if wedded she was, according to English ideas.

I had a notion, mistaken as it seemed, that the opium smoker always lay at the scene of his debauch to dream away the effects of it; but two men had by this time gone, and John was preparing the pipe for the last.

"How is it," I asked, "that the people go away immediately after they have finished their pipe and cigarette? (I omitted to mention that each smoke was wound up by a neatly rolled cigarette of light tobacco, which John deftly twirled between his not over clean fingers, and sealed with his own saliva.)

"The long smokers always remain," said the lady. "These people are poor, and cannot afford to pay for a long smoke."

"And the ladies and gentlemen, do they ever remain?"

"The ladies never do, but the gentlemen almost always stay in the room downstairs. You see, it takes some time for the full effect to come on."

"Would you mind showing me the other room?" I asked, in my most insinuating manner.

It was to no avail, however.

"I am very sorry I can't, sir. It's against the rules."

"Ah! There is somebody there perhaps?"

She nodded, and I didn't press the matter, though I would have given worlds to have had a glimpse into the place, and to have seen what manner of man was there.

The third and last customer having now taken his departure, I resolved to try a whiff myself. It was with much diffidence that I made the proposal, not because of my native modesty, which by this time ought to be perfectly patent to the readers of the Illustrated Police Budget; but because I feared the result of such an experiment.

"Would it be taxing your generosity to a very great extent," I said, addressing myself to Mrs John, "to ask you if I might be permitted to try the influence of the seductive poppy?"

"I knew you would ask for that," she replied, with her sad smile. "Everybody who comes as a visitor does so, and it would be out of reason if you didn't."

"Will you grant the favour in my case?" I asked in my most fetching way.

"You'd better not have it," she said; "you won't like it, and it might make you ill."

"Never mind," I urged. "I really wish to test the effects, and will be very greatly disappointed if I have to go away without."

"John," she called down the stairs, for the opium chef had disappeared.

In a few minutes, during which Mrs Chang, as her name turned out to be, tried her hardest to dissuade me from the attempt, the husband again presented himself.

"The gentleman wishes to try a smoke, John. What do you think?" said his wife.

"Me makee little smoke," replied the Chinaman. "No good - no good," he added, shaking his head.

"I suppose you take one yourself, though occasionally?"

"Um, yes. No good first time."

"All right, I don't care. I must have a try. Go on with your pill."

I then took my place upon the mattress in the approved form, just as I had seen the others do, and the lady handed me the pipe. He went to work roasting his gum in the flame as he had previously done, but he was under the impression that one thickness of the stuff would be sufficient for me, although I tried hard to induce him to give me the full quantity.

Mrs John, however, seemed to be fully determined that I was to be stinted, and told her husband that he must on no account give me more than one dip. By and by the dose was ready and transferred to the pipe. I applied my lips to the tube, held the bowl in the flame of the lamp, and took a long pull.

The taste was not pleasant. There was an acrid flavour about the smoke, and the effort to swallow it nearly choked me. Both Mr and Mrs John watched me intently, and I felt their eyes upon me, though I kept my attention fixed on the pipe. A second inhalation was more easily accomplished; but it was succeeded by a feeling of nausea, which was sufficient to make me desist, without the rude snatch of the pipe which the woman made.

"You've had quite enough," she said, "and now you had better get down."

I rose from the bed with the uncomfortable sensation that I had committed an unpardonable offence. My head swam slightly, and it seemed to me as if I had been smoking too much tobacco out of a foul pipe.

I was rather shaky, but the spirit of enquiry was still upon me. "Now then, Mrs John," I said, "give me a story of something that has occured since you married John?"

Mrs John tried to blush as hard as she could through the parchment skin which covered her face. It was not a thorough success, but resulted in a kind of yellow glow which lit up her cheek bones, and tinted her lips with the hue of the Malta citron when it had been sucked.

"Mrs John," I said, "may I softly penetrate to the precincts below?"

"No, there is a lady there," she returned in low tones, for the master was near.

"I don't mind a quid if you'll do it," I whispered.

"Then wait till another customer comes in. I can't do it till then. But when I've to show you downstairs I can manage it."

I was overjoyed. The very thing I had longed for was about to be presented to me.

To be sure, my head was humming round as if I had a decent size top within it; but what cared I? I was about to be shown into the lower and innermost depths - the holy of holies, as it were, of the vile den where I was then immured.

"Do ladies," I asked, "ever have anyone to visit them here?"

She looked indignant. "You are labouring under some error, sir," she said, drawing herself well up to the height of her shrivelled little body; "this is not a house of that sort."

"I beg your pardon, madam," I returned. "I didn't mean anything rude. Only I had a fancy that under opium some little dreamy longing for ------"

"Little dreamy longings don't take place under opium, Mr Reporter, and I hope you don't come here in the expectation of finding them. John, this gentleman wants to go away."

I had offended the lady of the house, and my peep below was denied me forever.

"Takee cigarette," said John, offering me the little roll which he had manufactured in his usual fashion; but I declined with thanks.

"Here, have a slice of lemon," exclaimed the woman, cutting one up on a plate. "That will do you good."

It seemed an excellent suggestion, and I don't think I ever understood what a lemon was like till then.

The abominable taste of the opium was removed by its influence, and it relieved the sick feeling. I then handed John another trifle for this last particular favour, and gave the wife something to buy a present with. The man then accompanied me to the door; but at my request saw me clear of the court and down to the public house again.

"Does your wife smoke?" I asked as we walked along.

"Ah, yes. She smokee little bit."

"And have you any children?"

"No, no chillen," and John shook his head, rather sorrowfully, I thought.

The last question was put with a special design, for it is maintained by the enemies of the habit that opium smoking has a detrimental effect in the matter of families. However, that may be, but this I can safely say, that in my case the influence was anything but pleasant. It produced a sickening sensation, and a fullness of the temples, accompanied by a wavering in my walk, and a generally shaky condition of nerves and muscles, which I have no yearning to undergo again.

In brief, my opinion is that opium smoking in its initiatory stage is a vile fraud.

The Ratcliffe Highway Murders 1811.

 

Murder.

Mr Timothy Marr was the proud owner of a silk, mercery, lace, pelisse, mantle and fur shop at 29, Ratcliffe Highway, an ex sailor with the East India Company aboard the Dover Castle, and now a shopkeeper, Mr Marr was a hard working family man. Late on the evening of the 7th December Marr sent his servant, Margaret Jewel, out for some oysters and to pay an outstanding bill with a local baker, it had been a busy Saturday and a little treat would be most welcome.

Jewel went upon her errand but unfortunately Mr Taylor's oyster shop was shut, as was the bakers, Jewel then wandered around the area for twenty minutes searching for a place to buy oysters, but failed. Heading back she found the shop shut up and in darkness; "I rang the bell, but received no answer. While I continued ringing repeatedly at the door, the watchman passed by at the other side with a person in charge (a police officer); at this time I heard a foot on the stairs, and I thought it was my master coming to let me in.

I also heard the child cry in a low tone of voice, I then rang again and again, and knocked at the door with my foot, while I was doing so, a man came up to me, abused me very much, and used very insulting language to me.

The watchman and policeman came at last, at one o'clock, and desired me to move on, I told him I belonged to the house, and that I was locked out, I remarked to him that the pin of the shutters was not fastened, he called Mr Marr several times through the keyhole, but there was no answer."

At this point the next door neighbour Mr Murray, a pawnbroker, came out to find out what all the fuss was about, having been told, he went back inside. Appearing again Mr Murray said there was a strong light out the back, he went through his house and over the fence to investigate. Gaining entrance to the back door of number 29 Murray called out to Marr several times. Seeing a light upstairs Murray ascended the staircase, he called out "Marr, Marr, your shutters aren't fastened," but he got no answer.

Going back down the stairs Murray opened the street door to let the watchman, police officer and Jewel in, but before he could he saw the body of James Biggs, their servant, dead on the shop floor, his brains had been bashed out. Towards the shop door was Mrs Celia Marr, her face downwards and her head bleeding, rushing forwards Murray opened the shop door to let the watchman, the policeman, and Jewel in.

Looking around the shop Murray then spotted Mr Marr behind the counter quite dead, Jewel had gone to the kitchen and found Timothy Marr, a baby of fourteen weeks, dead in its cradle, the police officer found a maul spattered with blood and hair. At the inquest watchman Olney stated the he was present when the police officer found the maul with the head on the ground and the handle standing against a chair, "the blood was running from it upon the ground," he also found a chisel, but there was no blood on it. He went on to state that he had seen Marr close his shutters at twelve o'clock, midnight.

A verdict of "wilful murder against persons unknown" was delivered, it was now up to the police to find this vicious criminal, they were still considered a new novelty and the country was watching.

Reward and Interment.

Evening Mail - 13th December 1811.

"We are glad to find that the Government has taken the same means which we suggested, to discover the murderers of Mr Marr and his family, by offering a reward to any one of them, except an actual perpetrator, whose evidence may lead to conviction.

Yesterday the following advertisement was struck up in large characters, in the neighbourhood of Ratcliffe Highway, and other parts of town:- Whitehall, December 12th 1811.

On the 16th December the Marr family were buried in the churchyard at St, Georges In The East, it is located across the road from their shop, a stones throw from the scene of horror on Ratcliffe Highway.

Author's photo taken from where the Marr's shop was located

According to London Chronicle - Monday 16 December 1811;

'Yesterday the neighbourhood of Ratcliffe Highway presented a scene of sorrow and lamentation. Crowds assembled from the house to the doors of St George's Church, waiting for some hours.

The congregation in the church, attending divine service, remained in their stations, to witness the afflicting spectacle. At half past one the procession entered with some difficulty. No language can describe the grief depicted in every countenance on witnessing the coffins containing the unfortunate bodies of Mr Marr, Mrs Marr, and her infant.

The procession entered the aisle of the church in the following order :-

Body of Mr Marr;

Bodies of Mrs Marr and Infant;

Father and Mother of Mr Marr;

Mother of Mrs Marr.

The affliction of the aged parents, and the brothers and sisters of the deceased, was the most heartrending spectacle. After the church ceremony, the corpses were conveyed into the burial ground, and deposited in one grave."

The investigation went on, suspects arrested, The Star - Thursday 19th December 1811;

"Whitechapel Office.

Yesterday the two Portuguese, Le Silvoe and Bornard Jovoe, who were apprehended on Friday last, were brought to the above office and examined near two hours, on suspicion of being concerned in the late murders at Ratcliffe Highway.

It appeared that Le Silvoe and Bornard Jovoe were at the Artichoke public house, near Mr Marr's drinking at half past eleven o'clock, and that they were seen by many of the inhabitants between the above time and a quarter before twelve; also that they were seen near one o'clock, in the streets adjoining.

Le Silvo lodges in Marmont Street, and came home for admittance at one o'clock, and knocked at the door; and his wife let him in as the watchman was going by, and crying past one o'clock. His landlord was waiting to give evidence to the above effect. Mrs Le Silvoe offered to prove that her husband was at home at eleven o'clock, but her testimony was not admitted.

A woman who lives with Bornard Jovoe wanted to prove an alibi, but the evidence appeared very doubtful. The prisoners were committed for another hearing."

Another Dreadful Murder.

The Sun - Friday 20 December 181;

"Another horrible murder was committed last night, between eleven and twelve o'clock, at No. 81, New Gravel Lane, not two minutes walk from the former scene of blood in Ratcliffe Highway.

Between eleven and twelve o'clock , the neighbours opposite were alarmed by a cry of murder, from a person in his shirt (John Turner), who was descending from a two pair of stairs window, by a sheet of his bed knotted together. On his reaching the bottom, he informed those assembled, that murderers  were on the house, committing dreadful acts of blood on the whole family.

An alarm was instantly given, and two resolute men, named Ludgate and Hawse, armed themselves, and broke open the doors - when, horrid to relate! They first found the mistress of the house and the servant maid lying one on the other by the kitchen fire, quite dead, with their throats cut from ear to ear.

In the cellar they found the master of the house quite dead, one of his legs broken, and his head nearly severed from his body. The scene of this bloody dead was the King's Arms public house, and the unfortunate persons murdered are Mr and Mrs Williamson, the landlord and landlady, and their servant maid, Biddy, an Irish girl.

The person who descended from the window is named Turner, and was a lodger; he states, that being alarmed by a great noise, he went down stairs, where he saw two men, one in a large watchcoat, and the other in a flannel jacket, rifling the pocket of the mistress, who was then lying near the kitchen fire; he immediately came to the resolution to get out of the window, and by the aid of the bedclothes he effected his purpose, leaving up stairs in bed Mr and Mrs Williamson's granddaughter,Catherine Stillwell.

It is with the deepest sorrow we have to state, that the perpetrators of this horrid deed have escaped, they got out of the back doors, and crossed Dock Hills."

The Sun of Friday the 20th went on to observe the efforts of the police in their endeavours on the docks, searching various ships and suspicious characters all the way to Gravesend. All the iron shops and blacksmiths were also investigated, particularly with reference to the maul, but without any result.

The inquest was held at the Black Horse on Gravel Lane, Mr Unwin, the Coroner said; 

"The frequent instances of murder committed in the eastern part of the metropolis, which no vigilance has been successful to detect - in a vicinity, where the population of the lower classes greatly preponderates, increased by the number of strangers and seamen discharged from the different docks, and the influx of foreign sailors from all parts of the globe - imperiously call for the solemn attention of those more immediately entrusted with the administration of the Government; for the late and present murders are a disgrace to the country, and almost a reproach on civilisation.

While the excursions of the police, with the ordinary power of the Parochial Officers, are found insufficient to protect men's persons from the hand of violence, and the Coroner has to record the most atrocious crimes, without the possibility of delivering the perpetrators to justice and punishment; our houses are no longer our castles, and we are unsafe in our beds."

This pub was about two building to the left of the Marrs Shop

Stern and terrifying stuff indeed, the verdict was predictable...."wilful murder against some persons unknown,," but the police had not been idle.

The survivor Mr Turner stated he had heard just after he had retired for the night Mrs Williamson go down stairs, soon after he heard the front door bang to very hard, immediately afterward he heard the servant cry out "we are murdered," or "shall be murdered," two or three times, then there was the sound of two or three blows. Shortly after Mr Williamson cried out "I am a dead man," I was still in bed. Hearing nothing more Turner crept down stairs to the first floor, there he heard the sound of heavy sighs.

Naked Turner crept further down stairs, there he saw a man in a large Flushing coat rifling the pockets of the Williamsons who were lying on the ground and not moving, he was putting several items into his pockets. He was dreadfully frightened, so he went back upstairs as carefully as he could, took the bed clothes and made his escape out of the window.

In the street he saw a watchman and he told him of the murders going on inside, the watchman summoned assistance with his rattle, and a Mr Fox, who lived opposite, came running up saying "break the door open." While this was happening Mr Fox ran back inside his house to fetch his hanger.

Once gaining entrance to the pub they saw the carnage wrought by the murderer, Mrs Elizabeth Williamson and the servant Ann Bridget Harrington both lying on the kitchen floor with their throats cut, and in the cellar Mr Williamson, leg broken, hand almost severed and his throat cut, before he was killed the perpetrator must have given him a good beating with a crowbar.

Police officers from Shadwell were soon at the scene and a manhunt was started, the pub was thoroughly searched, upstairs, still in bed was the completely unharmed granddaughter Catherine, who had slept through the entire ordeal.

Suspects.

Morning Post - Tuesday 24 December 1811

Shadwell Office - yesterday.

"John Williams was brought up for examination, under suspicion of being concerned in the murder of Mr and Mrs Williamson. The story which the prisoner gave of himself was far from satisfactory, and being interrogated how he gained his living, a circumstance was revealed sufficient to substantiate his detention.

It appeared that the prisoner, on the day of the murder, borrowed 6d from the landlady of the Pear Tree public house, in Wapping; when he was taken into custody the next day £1 14s in silver and a pound note, was found on his person. The account he gave of his possession of the money was from pawning his shirts ect. The fact was not clearly ascertained, nor the alibi to the time he was at home on Thursday night. Accordingly he was remanded for another hearing."

Whitechapel Office - yesterday.

"John Le Silvoe, Bornard Jovo, Joseph Antonio, and a girl, underwent a third interrogation, on suspicion of being concerned in the murder of Mr and Mrs Marr and family. The Magistrates investigated the additional evidence against the prisoners in private, which continued for some time. The girl was discharged, but the three Portuguese are kept in custody.

Queens Square - On Saturday, Symonds, the man in custody for being concerned (at his own confession) in the murder of the Marrs, underwent a final examination before Mr Colquhoun and Mr Fielding, Magistrates. The prisoner's landlady and father both gave evidence that he was at home on the night of the murders and he was declared innocent, he was warned to avoid intoxication in future. On the payment of 20s to the Recruitment Officer Symonds avoided being detained as a soldier."

Of all the suspects John Williams stuck out, examined again suspicion grew. The maul used to kill the Marrs had been missed from Mr Vermillion's house where Williams had lodged, it had belonged to a ships carpenter called John Peterson, and was marked J.P. Mr Vermillion at this time was incarcerated in Newgate Gaol for debt, but although he couldn't swear it was the same maul, it was marked with the same initials and there was some damage to the maul caused by breaking up firewood, which made it look the same.

Messers Harrington, Austin and Emery were examined for the Williamson murders, Harrington matched the description of the man seen by Turner rifling the pockets of Mrs Williamson. Harrington said that both he and Emery were on board the East Indiaman Astel for the last week, and that his other shipmate, Austin, had only been discharged from the King's Bench after ten days confinement. They were remanded for further investigation.

A certain W. Mitchell was questioned concerning the Williamson murders. After hearing of the murders officers on London Bridge began stopping "persons of notoriety" and searching them. Mitchell was stopped, searched, asked his name, where he had been ect, his answer was that he had been out looking for smugglers, so the officers let him go.

Soon after a description was circulated and this Mitchell's appearance corresponded with it, going to the address he gave, it turned out to be a false one. A search for the man was commenced but nothing was found, he was six feet in height, wearing a watchman's coat which he said he had borrowed, and clay on his trousers.

Two Irishmen, both named Dennis Mahony were detained after one of them was seen with a limp, they were examined and discharged.

Seven men were detained as they were found with shirts and a waistcoat stained with something that resembled blood. They said it was staining from hop vines, as they were hop pickers, they were all detained until a surgeon could be found to substantiate their claims.

A bricklayers labourer called Bailey was taken up by Mr Cook, Magistrate, on suspicion of a felony, while searching his apartments he found a quantity of silver plate and some linen stained with a blood like substance. 

Thinking he could have something to do with the murders Bailey was put into Cheshunt Cage. The next morning when the Constable went into the prison Bailey was found suspended from a beam by his handkerchief, and completely lifeless.

Mirroring the tragedy of young Bailey, there was John Williams.

John Williams.

The Sun - Saturday 28th December 1811.

Cold Bath Fields Prison.

"Yesterday morning, when the Turnkey of Cold Bath Fields prison went to the cell where this wretched man was confined, for the purpose of preparing him to go before the Magistrates of Shadwell Police Office, for further examination, he found him suspended by the neck, from an iron bar, crossing the cell, on which the prisoners hang their clothes.

He was quite cold and lifeless - his coat and shoes were off. The night before, when he was locked up, he appeared tolerably cheerful, and spoke in terms of confidence that he would be speedily liberated. The Magistrates proceeded to examine evidence."

Inquest.

The inquest was held at the House of Correction in St. James, Clerkenwell, before Coroner John Wright Unwin.

Surgeon Thomas Webb stated that he found Williams in his cell lying on his back on the bed where he had been placed after he had been cut down, he was dead, cold and had been dead for many hours.

"On his neck, on the right side, is a very deep impression of a knot, and a mark all round the neck as from the handkerchief by which he had been suspended, I saw no other marks."

Mr Unwin addressed the Jury;

"The miserable wretch, the object of the present inquiry, was committed here on suspicion of being one of the perpetrators of the late alarming and most inhuman murders, and that suspicion is greatly increased by the result which has taken place; for how much augmented is the suspicion of guilt against a man, who, to escape justice, has recourse to self destruction!

All homicide is murder till the contrary shall be shown. The law ranks the suicide in the worst class of murderers, and this is a case of most unqualified self murder.

I have applied my attention to the conduct of those entrusted with the custody of this wretched man, a subject interesting to the public mind, and I leave it with you; I think there is no culpability attaching itself to them. 

It only therefore remains that we consign the body of the self murderer to that infamy and disgrace which the law has prescribed; and leave the punishment of his crimes to him who has said 'vengeance is mine, and I will repay,'  - Verdict; Felo De Se."

A Strange Funeral.

The Sun - Wednesday 1st January 1812.

"On Monday, at midnight, the body of this wretch was removed from the House of Correction, Cold Bath Fields, to the watch house, near Ratcliffe Highway; and yesterday morning, at about 10 o'clock, he was placed on a platform, erected six feet above a very high cart, drawn by one horse.

The platform was composed of rough deals battened together, raised considerably at the head, which elevated the corpse. A board was fixed across the lower end, standing up about six inches, to prevent the body from slipping off. On this platform the body was laid; it had on a clean white shirt, very neatly frilled, quite open at the neck, and without a neck handkerchief or hat, but the hair neatly combed, and the face clean washed.

The countenance looked healthy and ruddy, but the hands and the lower part of the arms were of a deep purple, nearly black. The whole of the arms were exposed, the shirt being tucked quite up. The lower part of the body was covered with a pair of clean blue trousers, and brown worsted stockings, without shoes. The feet were towards the horse.

On the right leg was affixed the irons Williams had on when he was committed to prison. The fatal maul was place upright by the left side of his head, and the ripping chisel, or crow bar, about 3 feet long, on the other side.

About 10 o'clock, the procession, attended by the Head Constable and Head boroughs of the district, on horseback, and about 250 to 300 constables and extra constables, most of them with drawn cutlasses, began to move, and continued at a slow pace, until they came opposite the house of the unfortunate Marr, in Ratcliffe Highway, where they stopped about quarter of an hour.

By the shaking of the cart the head of Williams had got turned to one side, and looked from the house where the murder was committed; but before the cart left the place, a person ascended the platform, and placed the face of the corpse directly opposite the scene of atrocity.

The procession went down Old Gravel Lane, along Wapping High Street, entered New Gravel Lane, by Wapping Wall, and continued slowly to approach the spot where the second murder was perpetrated; on reaching which, it stood for another quarter of an hour, and then proceeded, again entering Ratcliffe Highway, and passing along it until it came to Cannon Street, where it turned up; and on reaching the top where the New Road crosses, and the Cannon Street begins, a large hole being prepared, the cart stopped.

The procession outside the King's Arms.

After a pause of about 10 minutes, the body was thrown into its infamous grave, amidst the acclaimations of thousands of spectators. The stake which the law requires to be driven through the corpse had been placed in the procession under the head of Williams, by way of a pillow; and after he was consigned to the earth, it was handed down from the platform, and with the maul was driven through the body.

The grave was then filled with quick lime, and the spectators quietly dispersed. During the whole procession all ranks of persons who were present conducted themselves with a solemnity rarely witnessed in the east part of town; and until the body was lowering into the earth hardly a whisper was to be heard in the street. Not a single accident happened. Williams is buried close to the Turnpike Gate in the Cannon Street Road."

Afterwards.

But was John Williams the murderer?

Public Ledger and Daily Advertiser - Monday 27th January 1812.

"Mr Graham particularly examined the late Mr Marr's premises on Thursday, and investigated some witnesses on the spot. Hart and Alblass are kept in close confinement, not being able to account for about a quarter of an hour of their time on the night of the murder of the Williamson's; it having been ascertained that a man can walk at a very quick pace in less than five minutes from that house to the Pear Tree public house.

On Saturday a man and woman who lived next door to Mr Marr, gave evidence respecting the horrible transaction. We understand it is their opinion that they heard three persons walking about at the time these murders were committed."

Cornelius Hart was a carpenter who had done work in Marrs shop on the day of the murders, he had lost his chisel, he denied any involvement, and also denied knowing Williams although  witnesses were found to prove otherwise. Hart lived opposite the Pear Tree public house, on the night of the Williamson murders he was found drunk on the step of his house and was arrested on suspicion.

William Alblass was a seaman who had served with Williams on the Roxburgh Castle, a rather unpleasant man with a limp, he fitted Turners description better than most, it is suggested that Alblass, Williams and Marr had all been shipmates and the motive was robbery. Alblass admitted to drinking with Williams on the night of the murder but left his company and went home. 

 On the 7th February both men were acquitted and set free.

Postscript.

The Crown and Dolphin, Williams Cross Roads.

On the 1st August 1886 it was reported that whilst excavating a trench for laying gas pipes by the Commercial Gas Company, a skeleton was unearthed with a stake driven through it at a depth of six feet, lying next to the bones were some chains. Allegedly the skull was given to the landlord of the Crown And Dolphin on the corner, but it has since disappeared.