Loading summary
Transcript7 lines
- [00:01]
Advertiser 1
This episode is brought to you by Greenlight. Get this Adults with financial literacy skills have 82% more wealth than those who don't. From swimming lessons to piano classes, Us parents invest in so many things to enrich our kids lives, but are we investing in their future financial success? With Greenlight you can teach your kids financial literacy skills like earning, saving and investing and this investment costs less than that. After school treat start prioritizing their financial education and future today with a risk free trial@greenlight.com Spotify greenlight.com Spotify your data.
- [00:31]
Advertiser 2
Is like gold to hackers. They'll sell it to the highest bidder. Are you protected? McAfee helps shield you blocking suspicious texts, malicious emails and fraudulent websites. McAfee Secure VPN lets you browse safely and its AI powered tech scam detector spots threats instantly. You'll also get up to $2 million of award winning antivirus and identity theft protection, all for just $39.99 for your first year. Visit mcafee.com cancel anytime. Terms apply.
- [01:02]
Genevieve Mannion
Hello and welcome to My Victorian Nightmare. I'm your host Genevieve Mannion, and I'm here to talk about mysterious deaths, morbid fascinations, disturbing stories, and otherwise spooky events from the Victorian era. Because to me there's just something especially intriguing, creepy, and oddly comforting about horror and mayhem from the 19th century. So listener discretion is advised. Hello friends and welcome to this, my 35th episode. I hope that you had a fabulous week. Mine was really touching. I received a number of lovely comments from listeners whose family members donated their bodies to science and it was so lovely to hear their stories. My episode last week was about the horrid trade of body snatchers, and in the end of the episode I talked about how far we've evolved in regard to donating our bodies to science. And one gal said that her father had recently passed away and he donated his body to the medical research at Trinity College. And she told me that at Trinity they call donors the silent teachers. Oh, I just feel that right in my soul. Isn't that beautiful? One of my favorite quotes is from an 18th century anatomist by the name of Giovanni Morgani. The original is in Latin, but it translates to let conversation cease, let laughter flee. For this is a place where the dead delight to help the living. That quote is written above the doors of a number of forensics labs and on the walls of morgues as well the silent teachers. It just brings that quote to mind. On an entirely different note, you will be pleased to know that the ghosts in my dreams that were begging me to help them leave the building have still not return. That's the good news. The bad news is they've been replaced with the most useless psychic dreams. This happens from time to time. I never dream of anything useful, like a lottery ticket number or something. It's always something like me dreaming of myself waking up and finding Toby must have puked in the night. And then I wake up and he puked in the night. And now I have to clean up the puke. They range from completely useless to almost like a joke some spirit guide is pulling. The other night I dreamt that I went to the bathroom and I know this is tmi, but I went to the bathroom and then my super Elvis showed up unannounced to fix my broken radiator right afterwards. And I was really embarrassed because I wouldn't want anyone to go in the bathroom. And guess what happened? You guessed it exactly. That happened within a half hour of me waking up. And I know what you're thinking. That's not a psychic dream. But it is. Because that radiator has been broken for six freaking months. And on the day that I have that stupid dream about it, that's when Elvis decides to show up. And at the most humiliating time, like my brain predicted. Like I could dream of a cure for cancer, but no, my spirit guides like to send me future visions of consternation and humiliation instead. What a show I have for you. Today we are diving back into everyone's favorite nightmarish, gory, at times sickening, at times simply delightful publication from the 1800s, the illustrated police, Law Courts and Record. Today, for you, dear listener, I have a deathbed confession. I have an accidental death of a horse fancier, a horrific elevator accident, a horrific mowing machine accident, naughty picture book advertisements, a butchered brother in law, a case of Victorian catfishing, a hairbreadth escape, and more. But first, a little haunted housekeeping. Thank you for rating the show on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. Thank you so much for your comments again, they were so nice to read this week on those platforms as well as on Instagram, where I will be posting photos from today's show as well as on Blue Sky. Thank you to those of you who support and listen to the show. Ad free on my Patreon. You will find the link to that on my website@myvictorianightmare.com and thank you everyone who bought Merch this week. You will also find that on my website as well. A gal named Emily W. Bought one of my mugs and she even left me a donation which is so sweet. Nicole M bought a tote bag and my from the Precipice to Eternity shirt. I love love that illustration so much. I think I'm going to add more shirts with illustrated police news illustrations which are mostly public domain by the way. If you want to do some designing yourself, some are public domain though. Some aren't public domain though, so always check. Oh and you can email me@myvictorianightmaremail.com okay, we are starting off with a hell of a tragedy and I found some more details about this article which I will share at its conclusion. The article is called the Avondale A Deathbed Confession and it reads since the loss of Avondale Coalbreaker by fire, and the additional terrible loss of a hundred lives from the effect upon the ventilation of the mine, there has been endless and fruitless speculation as to its cause, and the profound mystery which shrouded it at the time has since enveloped it. And while the story which reaches us comes from no authoritative source, it is so generally circulated that we feel justified in giving it. For what it may be worth, a man who lived somewhere near Grand Tunnel died from the effects of smallpox last Friday night. In his last moments he said to those about him that there was something on his mind which troubled him, and he could not die at rest with himself until he told it. He went on to say that the Steuben Avondale breaker was never fired by accident, but that he was one of a party of six men who fired it. Then, giving his own name, he undertook to give others, but could only articulate what was understood to be Michael when a fainting fit attacked him with which he did not rally, dying shortly after. It will of course never be known what he intended to divulge, but he certainly left enough behind him to confirm the belief of some who have held that the burning of the breaker was through foul means, and it may open the way to find out whether there is really any foundation for the belief. And should investigation show that there was foul play, we hope that not a stone may be left unturned to bring the wretches who could plan and carry out so dastardly and awful a scheme to summary and effective retribution. Okay, I found more information on this horrible tragedy and very sadly no one was ever found to be guilty of starting this fire. Although because of this situation where a man said that he was responsible along with others, the speculation that it was sabotage still lasts to this day. On the morning of September 6th 6th, 1860, 9. A fire broke out in a lattice of wood that helped to carry fresh air deep, like 300ft deep, into a coal mine where men were working down below. The fire caught off the only escape route and took the only source of air with it. The breaker that they're talking about. That was a machine that broke down coal into usable sizes and removes impurities. And this ignited into a towering inferno, spreading flames to other surrounding buildings. Word quickly spread of the unfolding disaster and wives and children ran to the coal mine screaming in terror. It wasn't just men too, by the way, who were trapped inside. There were boys as young as 12 who were also working in the mines as well. The first men who attempted to rescue the miners were killed by carbon dioxide and low oxygen levels. When the air was clear enough, they found 110 men and boys died inside. They were found huddled together, fathers holding their young sons. Rescuers were brought to tears at the sight. They were described as all looking as if they were just asleep. This disaster changed mining laws in Pennsylvania, forcing coal operations to ensure mines were properly ventilated and ending the practice of building fire prone coal breakers directly on top of mine openings. And because of this, one of the earliest unions was formed, the Workmen's Benevolent Association. The man who formed the union gave a speech at the site of the tragedy. And in his speech he said, you can do nothing to win these dead back to life, but you can help me win fair treatment and justice for living men who risk life and health in their daily toil. End quote. Oh God. Sorry. That was a hell of a way to start the show. But want to know something insanely coincidental that happened while researching this article? To get more info on it, I started by just Googling the title of it, the avondale horror. With 1871, the year of the article. And the first article that came up wasn't this situation. It was another one called the Avondale Horror. And it was a beltmag.com article which was about Cincinnati's 1884 Birkin murders. Just last week I did an episode on Body Snatchers, specifically Burke and Hare. In 1884, two men named Allen Ingalls and Ben Johnson killed a family and they burned their house down and sold their bodies to surgeons at Ohio Medical College in what had become known as a Birkin killing. In other words, killing people to sell them to surgeons. Now this was a wild coincidence. Enough, considering I did a whole story on this just last week, but you're not gonna believe this. Guess who showed up in this article, Old Cunny King of Men again, I have no idea how I could have missed this guy. The first time that I read that article about him. He was apparently quite the man about down in the 1800s. And I learned a new fact about the guy too. If you're just joining us for the first time, old William Cunningham was an apparently notorious body snatcher whose name appeared in an episode a while back. And I thought the whole article about him must have just been entirely made up by the Illustrated Police News because his story was just so insane. But no, he was a very real man. And the new fact that I learned about him was that parents would scare their children into being good by telling them that if they were bad, they'd call on old cunning to take them to a medical school to be cut up. For the love of God. Okay, onto our next article. This one is also tragic. It is called A Bottle of Horse Medicine Kills a Horse Fancier. And it reads, on the morning of the 11th, Mr. George B. Foote of the town of Beekman, Dutchess County, New York started from his home for Clare Branch Junction to see about some men he had at work there. After reaching the junction, he commenced to drink and repeated at Gray Head and Stormville, reaching home at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. After seeing to his horses, he proceeded to the house and went to a closet to get another drink. By mistake he got a hold of a bottle of horse medicine and imbibed freely from it. Immediately he was seized with violent pains and retching and in one hour was a corpse. Among other things, the fatal bottle contained a large quantity of tincture of arnica. Mr. Foote was a well known horse fancier and stock breeder and had many acquaintances among horsemen throughout the state. End quote. I couldn't find anything else on this poor gentleman, but I did find that large doses of arnica can cause cardiac arrest. It can also cause abdominal pain, nausea, diarrhea, muscle aches and weakness. It's often used as a homeopathic remedy for healing bruises quickly. I've used it before for that. It didn't work though. I get insane purple and green and yellow bruises with like the slightest touch. But I'm also a ghastly pale corpse myself and I don't think we're supposed supposed to heal so easily, Arnika or no. Anyway. Oh God. Okay, here's another tragic one that I have some very interesting facts about. I promise I have some naughty 1800s picture book advertisements to make you smile on the horizon but for now, our next article is called A Chambermaid Crushed to Death by an Elevator, which is one of my very worst fears. It's right up there with being pressured to be part of a magic show. Okay. The article reads, on Sunday morning the 4th, about half past 7 o'clock, Sarah McDonald, aged 32 years, a chambermaid employed in the 5th Avenue Hotel, New York, met with a shocking death while in the performance of her duties. It appears that after taking her breakfast, she went up to the third floor and proceeded very cheerfully about her work. And while so engaged, she was requested by one of the boarders to procure some fuel. She went to the hatchway where the baggage elevator operates and called up to the firemen to send up some wood and coal, and while doing so, did not observe the elevator descending from above as it moves noiselessly. Before she had time to extricate herself, the elevator struck her head, crushing it in a horror, horrible manner, breaking her neck and causing the body to turn a complete somersault and carrying it down to the cellar. No one was aware of her fearful death until the elevator reached the cellar where the fireman who answered her call was waiting to obey the order for sending up the wood and coal. He stood up for a moment, stupefied with horror at the shocking spectacle. He could not realize that the inanimate and mutilated form before him was the woman who but a moment before, was full of life. Recovering from his surprise, he gave the alarm and some of the servants gathered up the remains and placed them in the bootblacks room. By order of the proprietors to await the coroner. The unfortunate girl had been employed. Employed at the Fifth Avenue Hotel for three years, was a steady, reliable girl and was much respected by the proprietors. She, having had charge of their private apartments from her savings she had accumulated over $900. And yet she was given the burial of a pauper. Oh, honey. Oh. I wasn't able to find any more info on this poor girl or why she was given a pauper's funeral or what happened to her money. I found only one more article stating that she was killed in the hotel. Just nothing more about her. Absolutely horrifying for everyone. Oh, God, can you just imagine? All right. Now, there is a hotel called the Fifth Avenue Hotel today in New York, but that is not the original. The one that I mentioned in the article was torn down in 1908. But while it was being built in 1859, I read that it was built on top of a huge cemetery. And like the train systems of London. They had to excavate through thousands of bones to build the hotel. It was believed to be a cursed area. I kept digging deeper and deeper and read that from 1794 to 1797, it was the burial ground for those who died at Bellevue Hospital during the devastating yellow fever epidemic. There were up to a thousand people buried there, and it's believed some may even still be there. Again, the hotel was torn down, but then another building called the Top Toy center was built there for manufacturing toys in the World War I era. It's now just a fancy office building and you can be rest assured I did look to see, despite the original building being torn down, if the current one is haunted by a Victorian headless female ghost. And I sadly could not substantiate that. Although that is absolutely what my nightmare will be about tonight. A headless female Victorian hotel maid walking the halls of a World War I era toy factory. Okay, let's read some naughty picture book advertisements that were nestled between these terrible, sad and grisly stories, shall we? I love the names of them. The first advertisement reads, two new books. The Adventures of a Beautiful French girl with eight engravings and the fast young lady with seven engravings. We send the two books for 60 cents. Address, John & Company, North 5th Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The entire address was not printed. What a shame. I was really excited to see where that French girl's adventures were going to take her. All right, this next one is called that Queer Picture. And it reads, it will make a horse laugh and a mule kick his daddy and it's just the cheese. Enough said. Sent Post paid for 20 cents. Address, 266 Lockbox D, Ashland, Mass. I can't tell exactly if this is a naughty book or a funny book. Maybe both, but God, I wish I could get that book. It's just the cheese. Okay, okay. This next one is also ambiguous. It reads confidential. Young men who have injured themselves by certain secret habits which unfit them for business pleasure or the duties of married life. Also, middle aged, aged and old men who from the follies of youth or other causes feel a debility in advance of their years before placing themselves under the treatment of anyone should first read the Secret Friend. Married ladies will learn something of importance pursuing the Secret Friend. Sent to any address in a sealed envelope on receipt of 25 cents. Address, Dr. Charles A. Stewart and Company, Boston, Massachusetts. Okay, I have theories. Certain secret habits. I think this is talking about impotence and blaming it on masturbation, which was the certain secret habit. That's why the wives would also be interested in in this secret friend, which was maybe snake oil for impotence or maybe a prosthetic wiener of some sorts. Or what would unfit a man for business pleasure or the duties of married life? Syphilis. Maybe it's syphilis. Snake oil. I love the ambiguity here. Brilliant advertisement strategy catching anyone with any kind of sexual dysfunction. Hook, line and sinker. Okay, one more. This next one is oh so spicy. Get the last three new books, all gay. 1. The Secrets of Affection, six plates. Number 2 the Spice of Life, six plates. Number 3 Scenes among the Nuns, six plates each book 200 pages. Price $0.50 or the three for $1 by mail 2662 J. Florence Williamsburg, N.Y. heartbreakingly, I couldn't find these exact images, but that doesn't mean I didn't really try. It's kinda wild how much naughty nun imagery I did find from the 19th century, though I found some naughty illustrations from about the mid-1800s, but I did. I don't know if they were what was in these books. I have a feeling these were naughty like photography, not illustrations. I still put the illustration that I found on the Instagram and Bluesky. Anyway, okay, this next one is a little brutal. Brace yourself a little. It is called A man Butchers his brother in law in Tippecanoe, Ohio. Tragical result of a whiskey quarrel, and it reads, On October 30th, a fearful tragedy was enacted at this place about 10 o'clock last Saturday night. George K. Hart and John Astin are brothers in law and lived in adjoining houses for some time. As reported, there have been hard feelings between the two, and on Saturday night they were among their boon companions who were making night hideous while the village authorities were quite quietly reposing on their virtuous couches. A short time before 10:00 Hart and Aston made it up, took a drink together, and immediately began to quarrel. They started for their homes and when near Aston's house, stopped and Aston struck Hart two or three times, and while his arm was raised for another blow, Hart drew a butcher's knife and drove the blade into Aston's left side side, penetrating the lung and cutting a gash over 6 inches long, nearly 6 inches deep and as wide as the bottom as on the surface. The wounded man jumped down an embankment onto his back yard and entered the house bleeding profusely from the terrible wound. He died in less than five minutes. Hart threw the knife toward the canal where it was found. Next morning, went into the house and told his wife he had killed her brother and Then walked to the authorities and gave himself up. Okay, I dug into this one and I couldn't find what happened after this. But I found what I believe to be the obituary for John Astin on a site called the Troy Historical Society. But it doesn't read like an obituary and I have no idea what the original reference is, like which newspaper. It's just on a site of all obituaries, so judge for yourself. Here are some amazing November 4, 1871. Aston, John, murdered at Tippecanoe. Saturday evening was a memorable time in the history of our city. Early in the evening evening, large numbers of low drunken wretches stimulated by liquor made our streets the scene of the most disgraceful conduct. Swearing, yelling and fighting were rampant. As is always the case here. No officer of the law was near to quell the drunken rabble. Those who witnessed the disgraceful proceedings were in a great measure prepared to learn of a murder occurring in our midst. Among the number of drunken rowdies were George K. Hart and John Aston, who were brothers in law. A deadly feud had existed between these parties for a long time. But it goes on to give a similar summary of what happened in that article that we just read. But then it continues. John Astin, the victim, was a young man of 22 or 23 years old of age. He was of a quarrelsome, noisy nature. There could be but very little good said of him. The only loss he will be is to his wife and his relations who are worthy people any community can spare. Such as he is, without loss. God. It also continues. George K. Hart, the murderer, is a bad character. He is a regular rough, almost constantly drawn drunk and always ready and willing to take part in any fight or depredation. He was a soldier during the late war, but has a bad record. So yeah, this could be an obituary. It's tough to tell. I assume they're talking about the Civil War, since this potentially obituary is from 1871. The Civil War ended in 1865, but there you have it. John Astin, of quarrelsome, noisy nature, with very little good said of him butchered on the streets of Tippecanoe. His poor wife. All these poor wives. God, I hope that they all moved in together and started a coven. Meghan Trainor, laundry retrainer. Meghan Trainor. You're tossing out my gunky laundry detergent bottle.
- [27:38]
Advertiser 1
See, it's got that booty, that juicy.
- [27:42]
Genevieve Mannion
Boom boom that don't bite. Alright, Arm and hammer power sheets.
- [27:47]
Advertiser 1
Toss like this. Cause I toss like this.
- [27:52]
Genevieve Mannion
It's a no mess. Laundry glaze arm and hammer, power sheets. More power to you. Okay, this next one is a tale of Victorian catfishing, and the headline reads, marrying by a photographic proxy. An innocent Nebraskan ensnared by a touched up picture. And the article reads, a young man from the country went to Judge Potter at Omaha a few days since and asked him to issue a warrant for a photographer in that city. He states his case as some months ago he saw in an Omaha paper a personal advertisement asking for correspondence with a young man. He replied, and in the course of a couple of months, he asked his correspondent for her photograph. She replied by sending him one taken by Eaton, which she assured the young man was an excellent picture of herself. The correspondence progressed until, having fallen in love with the original of the picture, he proposed marriage. She accepted him, and the 17th was appointed for the wedding to take place on the 12th. He came to the city for the first time since the opening of the correspondence and sought out his fiance. Imagine his surprise in finding her very plain in features, in fact, positively homely. He could not be persuaded upon, as the picture she sent him represented a very beautiful girl. At length he. He was satisfied with her statement, but not with his bargain, and with a muttered curse ran out of the house and 10 minutes after rushed into the photographic gallery and demanded to see that person. He accused Mr. Eaton of purposely deceiving him, but he assured him that the young lady's photograph had simply been retouched to make a more beautiful picture. Without listening to further explanation, he sought his hotel. The judge informed him that there was no law upon the statute books that would reach such a case and that probably the legislators had never regarded such a thing possible. The young man finally concluded that he had better make the best of the matter and concluded to accept the situation. And we learn, the marriage will proceed. End quote. Well, that's the spirit, I guess. God, I wonder how that marriage turned out. Let's take just a little bit of time to talk about Victorian retouching techniques. Those photographs sure look perfect from that era. Everyone sure had gorgeous skin back then. Those waists were so small, weren't they? And cellulite must not have even been invented until the 1980s. No, their photos were just as retouched as ours today. Victorians manipulated photos using pencil markings and scraping techniques to draw over or erase beauty flaws on the negatives of the photos so that the retouching would be printed into the photo. An 1898 book called the Art of Retouching Photographic Negatives had numerous chapters on how to retouch busts, arms, necks, mouths, hair, waist sizes, eyes, etc. To make the waist extra small. Here's a quote from that book. Make a curved pencil like line commencing about halfway between the arm and the waist, gradually taking off more of the figure until the waist is reached, then more suddenly carving outward again over the hip, tapering over the line gradually after this graceful curve is made. It is a case of stippling out with a pencil that part of a dress which is cut off in the background, making it match as near as possible to create that gorgeous matte glow every woman seemed to have. They would literally paint the negatives or scratch out areas with a cross hatch technique that would brighten cheeks and above the eyes. I put a picture on the Instagram in Blue sky where you can see how they simply drew in around the waist to make it look smaller. I also put a great before and after photo. It really is amazing to see what they were able to do just by scratching, painting and erasing the negatives. Okay, this one is a hard left. It's really devastating and very graphic. If you got the squeams or if you cry easily, this one is not for you. Skip ahead like maybe three minutes. The headline is a truly terrible death. A mowing machine literally slices a man to pieces. And it reads. On Wednesday afternoon the 23rd, Mr. Peter Kramer, a farmer owning a fine farm of over 200 acres near Hallsville, Montgomery county, met a sudden death as follows. He stepped before the knives and was about to take up one of the horses hooves when for some reason unknown, the team started on to run. Before he was able to catch the reins or get out of the way, the knives caught him and nearly severed both of his feet from his legs above the ankles, the cords and bones being thus cut off and he being in an advancing movement, fell immediately, immediately forward on his face before the bar. The knives being thus in the flesh, slid up the bones, stripping them bare to the knees, slicing the flesh as can only be imagined above the knees. They continued to strip the bones, cutting that of the right leg off once and that of the left leg several times. But when they reached the large bones of the hip, the the pitman crank of the machine broke and the knives tore through the flesh, causing the body to swing round parallel with the bar. At this time he by his shouting to the horses attracted the attention of one of his 35 hired hands who first saw him rolling before the points of the guards like a log. In an instant the guards caught in his clothes raised and passed over Him. Him. At this time, Mr. Snider, a neighbor at work in an adjoining field, saw him and ran to his assistance, reaching him before the hired hand as he was beckoning for other aid. When Snider arrived, Mr. Kramer first told him the particulars as to his getting hurt and then called for water, to which Snyder replied, I cannot give you any, for I have none here, and I can't leave you alone. But seeing Bulger another hand, he bethought himself that he had some in his own jug, which he ran immediately to bring. When Bulger arrived, he found the agonized man praying his last prayer, first for his wife and child and lastly for himself. Seeing his condition, Bulger was so scared that he dare not go near him, but ran and called Mr. John Zoller, Mr. Kramer's nearest and most intimate neighbor. When Snyder came with the water, he drank all the jug contained and asked for more, and then said, tie my legs, bind my gashes, take my suspenders and tie them around me. But all were so frightened, they did scarcely anything to prolong the dying man's life. By this time, the team had run to the barn and around in the road before the house and back on the yard on the other side of the barn. This gave the first alarm to his wife and several others, who ran as soon as possible to the fatal spot, arriving just in time to hear him call, o Libby. O Libby. For she had been hindered by some not wishing her to see her husband so mangled. Hearing her voice among the others, he said, come round before me, Libby, so I can see you, which she was helped to do. He then said, libby, there is enough for you and the child. All you will ever want, all your earthly wants are abundantly provided for. And now I hope you will meet me in heaven. Let me shake hands with you once more. He then threw up his eyes so as to see his wife's, and thus quickly breathed his last, gazing steadily into the eyes of who has been his companion for little over four years. End quote. I could not find more information on what became of Libby, but I did find that the farm was put up for sale right away, as I see that it was for sale in a paper just five days after his death. Death? It was noted as a valuable farm in other articles that I read about this tragedy. So hopefully she was at least able to support herself well as a widow with the proceeds from the sale. Oh, God. Okay, our next one is a little spicy. Not spicy like those naughty books, just spicy, as in, she's gonna get You. The headline is a fray between two ladies of fashion in the streets of St. Louis. And it reads, a married lady belonging to one of the first families in St. Louis has for some time been excessively jealous of a female who was formerly her intimate friend. She is suspected, and with good reason, that her husband devoted himself to her rival and that the intimacy between them was not of a place. Purely platonic character. A week or two since, she learned that they might be found together at a notorious house of assignation and accompanied by a female friend, the injured wife posted herself near the door to watch for their exit. In a short time, she saw the woman who had destroyed her peace of mind descending the steps of the brothel. She rushed toward her with the intention of administering a severe castigation. But at the very moment when the object of her indignation was staggering back, aghast at the sight of the wife she had wronged, a policeman appeared upon the scene and quelled the incipient fight. There was serious talk of a divorce, but the husband has promised amendment and the wife has forgiven him. End quote. Bad move, sister. Oh, God. Every time you hear people, people of certain generations saying people stayed together in those days, they knew how to work out problems, no women just put up with horrible men. She likely didn't have much of a choice but to keep the bastard. Even if they could get divorced. Living a life as a divorced woman in the 1800s was not easy. And as we learned from the Jack the Ripper story, even if he was ordered to pay her alimony, all he would have to do is show up in court and say that she was a sex worker or living with another unmarried man and he could weasel out of it. Ugh. I just want to give every woman from this era a hug. God, the things I had to put up with. Which brings us to our next story. Although it kinda has a happy ending. A pretty shocking one, I'd say. But despite that happy ending, its headline is a saddening story. And it reads, a short, pale faced woman with her hair fast whitening and in the sombre weeds of widowhood, was put on trial in Brooklyn, New York, on the 21st for killing her husband. Her face was ghastly, her cheeks hollow, and her eyes looked as if they had been wept dry. Her counsel asked the court to accept a plea of manslaughter in the fourth degree, and the district attorney agreed to the request. The judge then suspended sentence, speaking in a kind and affectionate manner to the woman. She was then removed from court, seemingly oblivious to her escape from imprisonment. This poor woman's history is a common one. In August last, while in feeble health, she was beaten by a drunken and cruel husband. Frenzied by frequent barbarity, she snatched up one of his shoemaking tools and stabbed him. Death ensued and the woman was lodged in jail, where she has since languished. Her mental faculties are weak and she is a physical wreck. End quote. It's actually amazing to me that the judge would take pity on her. She was freed. I think that's what it seems like. Her sentence was susp. Suspended. From what I can tell in this case, that likely means that she was given kind of like a probation. But I could be wrong. That just seems to be what's inferred in the article. This poor woman's history is a common one. Some of these articles just rip my heart out. Okay, finally an article to lift your spirits. It's an exciting one. It is called A Hairbreadth A Mississippi girl saves a drowning man in a curious manner and it reads, Emma Black, who lives in a small town in Mississippi, saved a man's life recently in a curious way. He was fishing and having fallen out of his boat, was making all possible haste to drown when the maiden perceived his plight and, swimming out to him, threw her hair, which is nearly four feet long, into his grasp and towed him ashore. It is well to remark that the heroine did not wear false hair at a hundred dollars a braid, but the means she used were natural. Had it been false hair, the fisherman would have undoubtedly sought lodgings on the bed of the Mississippi. End quote. Those last two sentences are interesting. At this time in the 1870s, there were still some folks who were alive when powdered wigs were in fashion. I'm talking folks who were in their 80s. But anti wig sentiment post the French Revolution stuck around. Women still used clip in hairpieces in this era, but they were only worn discreetly, the clips hidden at all costs. Hairstyles were pretty lavish throughout the 1800s, so ladies often needed a little extra to fill out a style. But the associations with wigs of the 1700s being vermin infested, vestiges of dusty old European royalty made false hair shameful. Not to mention, there were a lot of women who did wear full wigs in the 1800s, not just clipped in hairpieces, but this was likely because they had diseases like syphilis where their hair would fall out. So there was a lot of shame around false hair. Luckily for that drowning gentleman and luckily for that girl, she did not have syphilis. And that's the cheese. If you enjoyed today's show and would like to hear more, please rate, review, subscribe and and leave me comments. Be kind to yourselves and I will see you in your nightmares.