Manchester, 1862
On a bitterly cold Sunday 19 January 1862, a tremendous explosion occurred in Great Ducie Street, Strangeways. It was centred on a shop and premises at No. 5, Britannia Buildings, the rented home of William Robert Taylor, who traded as a butter factor and provision dealer. The explosion had been caused by the bursting of the kitchen back-boiler, probably due to the freezing of the cold water pipe. The fire grate and burning coals were flung into the middle of the room, almost covering seven-year-old Maria Jane Taylor, who had been sitting in front of the fire at the time of the explosion. The young girl was terribly injured, having been scalded by the escaping steam and burned by the heated grate and the red-hot ashes. Barely conscious, she was taken to the Manchester Royal Infirmary, where she subsequently died from her injuries.
Her father and step-mother, William Robert and Martha Ann Taylor were out at the time and there are confusing reports as to the injuries of their other three children: Mary Hannah aged twelve, Hannah Maria aged eight and William Robert aged five, but it appears that if any of them were injured, it was only slightly.
Maria Jane was subsequently buried at Harpurhey Cemetery in an unmarked pauper’s grave, as the Taylors were unable to afford anything better.
Upon examination, it was found that the brickwork on both sides of the fireplace had been displaced by the force of the blast and the chimney breast had also collapsed. The fireplace of the adjoining property, belonging to a Mr Samuel Hill, had also been forced out and considerable damage done to the room. In both houses, windows were broken by the force of the explosion.
Earlier that month, William Taylor had complained of a leaking pipe, which the landlord’s agent gave instructions to be mended, but a few days later, Taylor again reported a leak, which this time seems to have been ignored by the land agent and on the Sunday evening came the dreadful explosion.
The Taylors had first moved into Britannia Buildings in October 1861, paying one quarter’s rent in advance, but when time came for the next payment at Christmas, trade was poor and they had not the money to pay it, even though they were threatened with a distress warrant. After the explosion, their position was even more desperate, and according to the neighbours, the family suffered from cold and shortage of food. The tragic death of their child naturally hit the Taylors hard and the business suffered even more. With unseemly haste, bailiffs entered the premises, and took away most of their possessions towards the overdue rent. One report said that the eldest girl was dressing herself at the time and that one of the bailiffs even snatched a comb out of the girl’s hand and put it in his pocket.
Some days later, the bailiffs returned and this time took practically everything left in the house, including wet clothes that had been washed and were drying on the line. This barbarous act was believed to have been on the orders of the landlord’s agent, Mr Evan Meller, who had his offices in St James’s Chambers, South King Street, a four-storey building which no longer exists. The position of William Taylor, his wife and remaining three children can hardly be imagined, their business defunct, their goods seized and now more or less homeless, with no warmth, little food and only the clothes they stood up in.
What is certain is that poor Taylor, half demented from the tragedy, placed the blame for his daughter’s death fairly and squarely on Mr Meller, which was hardly surprising, considering the way in which the bereaved family had been treated. For some weeks, he pursued the land agent, claiming compensation for his loss, but his claim was stoutly refuted by Meller, who insisted that the root cause of the explosion was down to Taylor. After some argument, Meller arranged for the premises to be repaired and some weeks later Taylor again fell to arguing with Meller about fixtures and fittings, for which he had evidently paid £10 when first going into the premises and now felt should be returned to him. This was also stoutly resisted.
On 26 March, the next quarter’s rent was due and once again, Taylor did not have the money and although another distress warrant was issued on 30 April, by now there was little or nothing for the bailiffs to seize. It is probable that Mr Meller sent the bailiffs in again with no hope of receiving any money but rather to force the Taylors to leave the premises, promising them that if they did so, he would forgo the rent owing and consider the matter closed. Taylor and his family could hardly have been in any worse condition than the one in which they now found themselves. At least in the workhouse, which was their only other alternative, they would have received some degree of food, clothing and shelter, but Taylor was a stubborn man and insisted on remaining at Britannia Buildings. When the bailiffs arrived yet again, he forcibly ejected them from his premises, but they now had an excuse to force themselves and, ignoring the protestations of Taylor and his distraught wife, they stormed back in and took away the last few remaining sticks of furniture.
Over the next few weeks, the Taylors clung grimly to their now empty property, expecting a further visit from the bailiffs at any moment. On several occasions, Taylor went to Meller’s office, where he was usually seen by the land agent’s nineteen-year-old son, William, to whom he complained that the bailiffs had pocketed various items for themselves and that the rest of the goods taken had been sold under value. Young Meller protested that there was nothing that he could do and noted that Taylor did not lose his temper, or appear to be any sort of threat when these conversations took place.
On 16 May, William Meller arrived for work at around 9 a.m., some minutes before his father, and was closely followed into the office by William Taylor, accompanied by his wife. The offices, which were on the second floor of the building and reached by a winding staircase, consisted of a general and a private office, plus a small ante-room. The Taylors, finding that Mr Meller senior had not yet arrived, sat down in the ante-room, arranging themselves in such a position that William Taylor could see clearly the entrance to the premises and the stairway, whilst his wife looked towards the inner offices. A few minutes later, Evan Meller arrived and, seeing the Taylors waiting there, greeted them courteously enough.
However, William Meller who was in the private office, suddenly heard words and saw his father struggling in the grip of William Taylor, crying ‘Oh. Mr Taylor.’ Taylor appeared to be striking at the land agent, although young Meller could not see clearly with what. Hurrying to help his father, the boy was suddenly confronted by Mrs Taylor, who produced a revolver, which she pointed at him. Greatly alarmed, William dashed back into the private office and slammed the door behind him. For some minutes, he remained there, frightened to confront the Taylors again. He then heard the report of a pistol.
Venturing out into the general office, he was relieved to see that the Taylors appeared to have gone and he moved carefully towards the staircase, when to his great concern, he saw his father’s body lying on the first-floor landing, bleeding from the mouth.
One of the other tenants in the building, a Mr Leatherbrow, had appeared, having heard the commotion, accompanied by a porter named Hooley, and the two men had knelt by the fallen Meller, just as William Taylor reappeared waving the revolver. This had gone off with a loud report and wounded the porter in the knee. With a cry, Hooley had slumped against the wall, clutching his leg, then clawed his way upright and limped off down the stairs.
The noise of the gunshot attracted a third man, Mr Pankhurst, who arrived just as the young William Meller dashed down the stairs to comfort his father. Taylor immediately pointed his revolver at the boy, causing him to draw back behind the others present.
Pankhurst, showing not a little bravery, confronted Taylor and asked him angrily, ‘Good God, what do you mean by this?’
Taylor muttered, ‘He has ruined me and my children,’ at which Pankhurst turned back to attend to the recumbent Meller, who was still showing signs of life. Without saying anything more, William Taylor turned on his heel and dashed down the stairs to the street door, where his wife was waiting for him.
The others now tried to make Meller as comfortable as possible and in due course, the injured man was taken to the infirmary. It was found that he had suffered no fewer than eleven stab wounds to the body, one of which had penetrated the heart and another the chest, either of which was bad enough to prove fatal. Nothing could be done for him and he died shortly after reaching the hospital.
In the meantime, young Meller had run out of the building and gone to the nearby police station. Breathlessly telling his story, he accompanied a police officer back to the offices, where they saw Mrs Taylor near the entrance, together with her husband, still holding the revolver. This time, William Taylor offered no resistance when the police constable gingerly removed the weapon from his hand, but muttered words to the effect that Evan Meller had murdered his children. Whilst he was being searched, he said, ‘Thank God, my work is done.’
As a result of the search, Taylor was found to have on him a bullet mould, a powder flask, some percussion caps, and a paper sheath which appeared to be for a knife. The knife was later found on the landing where the struggle had taken place. The revolver was proved to have been bought, together with the bullet mould, from a nearby store and it was a rather old fashioned weapon, having six barrels which all revolved together. On inspection, it was found that one barrel had been discharged.
During questioning at the police station, Taylor pulled from his waistcoat pocket a ring bearing three keys, which he told the police were for a bedroom at Britannia Buildings, ‘Where,’ he said, ‘you will find something.’ When the police reached Britannia Buildings, they found the place in great disorder: the walls and staircase daubed with black and what little remained of the contents of the house smashed to pieces. On the floor was a large piece of marble slab, which had been taken from the fireplace and, to their horror, the police found the bodies of three children laying side by side, their heads on the slab. Each child was naked except for a man’s shirt and each had around the neck a black ribbon, with similar pieces around the waist and wrist. Upon the breast of each child was a paper upon which was written:
We are six; one at Harptry (Harpurhey) lies and thither our bodies take. Meller and son are our cruel murderers, but God and our loving parents will avenge. Love rules here; we are all going to our sister, to part no more.
On the other side of the papers was the name of each child and their ages. On the youngest child, the paper also said, ‘Meller our sister slew, through gross neglect.’
The bodies of the three children were eventually buried at Harpurhey, in an unmarked pauper’s grave.
Taylor was charged with the murder of his three children, remaining silent to the indictment. Sergeant Bateman then turned to the woman, who agreed that she was Taylor’s wife, but had nothing further to say. On returning to the police station (the Taylors were taken separately) Mrs Taylor said to PC Hodgson, ‘I am come to give myself up.’
‘What for?’ asked Hodgson.
‘A man was shot. It is me that has committed the murder of the man.’ she said, and showing her wrist to the constable he saw that it had blood on it. She continued, ‘It is not the man that they have taken that has done it.’
It is clear that at this time Mrs Taylor was confused; hardly surprising considering the dreadful ordeal she had just suffered. She did not seem to be aware that Mr Meller had been stabbed to death, not shot, whereas the man who had been shot, Hooton, was still alive.
Taylor and his wife appeared at the City Magistrate’s Court, an event that was avidly followed by a huge crowd. To prevent any problems during the hearing, the police had issued admission tickets, about 700 in number, which were snapped up within a day. Several thousand more might have been issued if there had been sufficient space in the court, such was the interest. After five hours of evidence, the Taylors were remanded at Kirkdale Gaol to await trial at Liverpool Assizes, accused of the murder of Evan Meller.
The prisoners were taken to Victoria railway station in a police van, which had been driven at a furious pace to the Magistrate’s Court, stopping at the magistrate’s private entrance to take the prisoners on board, thus foiling the main part of the crowd who were at the rear of the court building where prisoners were more usually dealt with. At the railway station, no attempt was made to keep back the huge crowd that had gathered and many people clambered upon the roof, steps and sides of the second-class carriage in which the prisoners and their escort were confined. Indeed, so many people were clinging to the outside of the train that it was forced to leave the station at a very slow rate until the last of the hangers-on had dropped off as the train finally began to pick up speed.
On Tuesday 20 May, Evan Meller was buried at Chorlton-cum-Hardy Parish Church, the streets being lined with onlookers and on Saturday 31 May the Manchester Courier reported that the police had just announced that William Taylor and his ‘wife’ were not married, although it is not clear whether this information was fact or mere speculation. Whilst the Taylors were being held, their three dead children were given a big funeral, courtesy of Manchester businessmen, the road to the cemetery being crowded with onlookers. They lie today at Harpurhey, in an unmarked grave.
Kikdale Gaol, c. 1880. (Author’s collection)
The trial opened on Thursday 21 August 1862 at the imposing St Georges Hall, Liverpool, before Mr Baron Wilde. Although the judge had given instructions that there was to be no undue publicity about the case, the approaches to the hall were thronged with sightseers and the courtroom was packed to capacity. Twenty-seven years later, the notorious poisoner, Mrs Florence Maybrick, was to be tried in the same courtroom. Appearing for the prosecution were Mr Monk QC, Mr Sowler QC, and Mr Holker; appearing for Taylor were Mr S. Pope QC, and Mr Edwards, with Mr W. Overend QC, and Mr S. Temple appearing for Mrs Taylor.
Taylor and his wife were put up and those in the crowded courtroom noted that they looked well and were of respectable appearance. The accused man had a dark complexion, with very dark hair, moustache and beard, giving him a foreign appearance, whilst his good-looking wife had fair hair and was wearing a plain black bonnet, sporting a large feather and a veil, which she had also worn for the magistrate’s hearing. The judge motioned that she could sit down through the hearing and a chair was given to her. Those who had been at the Magistrate’s Court noticed that she had changed her hair style.
When called upon to plead, Taylor said in a loud voice, ‘Not a shadow of guilt’ and his wife said quietly, ‘Not guilty.’ Mr Monk then opened the prosecution’s case by exhorting the jury to put from their minds anything that they might have read in the papers about the affair and to judge the case only on the evidence that would be put before them. He then began to recount the events of 16 May onwards and came eventually to the discovery of the bodies of the three children at Britannia Building:
How long or by what means these children came by their deaths in the first place, it is no part whatever of our duty to inquire, but they had evidently been washed and laid out. Each child had on it a piece of paper, in handwriting that I believe I shall be able to show is that of the accused, William Robert Taylor. As to motive for an act of so much violence, so desperately perpetrated and so deplorable in its consequences, I suggest that these prisoners were influenced by a passion as strong as any which influences the human mind.
He then impressed on the jury that according to the law, if two people combined in an act of violence in which a person was killed, then both were equally guilty of murder, no matter who administered the fatal blow.
William Galloway Meller then told the court of the attack on his father and that after the gunshot, he had run to the local police station and had returned with a constable to find the accused couple still on the premises and his father mortally injured. Under cross-examination he was definite that Mrs Taylor had menaced him with the gun and that he had seen the barrels clearly.
The wine merchant, Joseph Leatherbrow also gave his story and stated that on seeing Mr Meller, he called his porter, Hooley and together, they wrested the injured man into a sitting position. Whilst the two were holding him in that position, Taylor came down the stairs holding a revolver, which he pointed at Mr Meller’s head and fired. The shot hit the unfortunate Hooley in the arm, passing through the limb and into his knee, and he staggered off down the stairs saying, ‘Mr Joseph, I am shot.’
Harpurhey Cemetery, where the Taylor children were buried in unmarked graves. (© A. Hayhurst)
Leatherbrow then said to Taylor, ‘What does this mean?’ and Taylor replied, ‘Oh, he has murdered my children.’ In response to further questioning, Leatherbrow stated that at that time, Taylor could have got away if he had wanted to but appeared to have made no effort to escape. Leatherbrow was followed into the witness box by Mr H.F. Pankhurst, whose story tallied almost word for word with the earlier witnesses.
Next to appear was the police surgeon, Mr William Heath, who observed that when he inspected the body of Evan Mellor, he found eleven cut wounds on it, one wound on the right side being about 2 ½in in length, and passing through the breast bone and the heart. Another wound, which was about 4in deep, passing through the heart, would have required considerable force to make. Sergeant Thomas Bramhall then gave evidence of arrest and also of the discovery of the knife in Meller’s office, which Taylor had thrown down.
Mr Thomas Green Jones, a general dealer, said that on 13 May, a man came to his shop at 175 Deansgate and wanted to purchase a revolver. He chose one costing 20s, but had not the money to pay for it. Instead, he offered a watch that Jones accepted in payment and also threw in a bullet mould.
John Maclean, a bailiff, said that he attended the second distress at Taylor’s premises and used a hammer to break in the door. They found hardly anything left in the premises, apart from some bread and butter! They stripped the premises of what little there was but did not receive sufficient to satisfy the warrant. There may well have been many in the courtroom who had cause to know just how harsh was the lot of a debtor in mid-Victorian days, and the sympathy that went out from the public gallery to the accused couple was tangible. It was clear to all that the Taylors had been reduced to absolute and irredeemable poverty, with no thought for them or their three young children.
Mr Pope then addressed the court on behalf of Taylor and stood up knowing that he had an almost impossible task to carry out. Clear evidence had been given to the court of Taylor’s part in the death of Evan Meller and Pope told the court that he felt almost overborne with the responsibility that now fell on his shoulders. He went on, ‘The question I must ask you to decide is this simple and distinct question – was this man conscious, at the time when he committed the act, of the quality and nature of the act that he was doing?’
To establish a defence on the grounds of insanity, it had to be clearly proved that at the time of committing the act, the accused was labouring under such a defect of reason, from disease of the mind, as not to know the nature and quality of the act he was doing, or if he did know it, he did not know that it was wrong. The McNaghten Rules, which remained in force until late in the twentieth century, were formulated after Daniel McNaghten killed Prime Minister Robert Peel’s private secretary, in mistake for him, in 1843.
Pope then began an impassioned appeal to the jury to remember the great strain that had been put upon William Taylor and his wife after the death of their young daughter; the first distress levied against them within a week of that event and the second distress that had left them with virtually nothing, even their bed and a single chair had been taken, rendering them utterly destitute. Pope’s speech was, at this stage, interrupted for several minutes due to William Taylor suddenly collapsing and falling insensible to the floor of the dock. Whilst he was being attended to, his wife covered her face in her hands and wept, but eventually, Taylor recovered and on the judge’s instruction, was also given a chair in the dock.
Pope continued, emphasising that when Taylor assaulted Mr Meller, he was possessed by an all-absorbing delusion which only released its hold on him once he thought that Meller was dead. After that, he said, Taylor reverted to a more normal mien and was content to say, ‘He has murdered my children.’ Counsel continued:
I am not sure that in asking you for a verdict of ‘not guilty’ on the grounds of insanity, I am asking you for a merciful verdict. If that is what your verdict is, he must spend the rest of his days in a penal asylum. I ask you simply to say that for this act, he was not responsible, because he was not of sound mind.
Mr Overend then addressed the court on behalf of Taylor’s wife. He had, he said, looked through the evidence for any expression of anger on her part which might indicate that she had any motive for the murder of Mr Meller and it was clear that whatever animosity might have been entertained by her husband, she had entertained none. She went to Meller’s office carrying a basket containing two combs, two brushes and a sponge. Whoever heard of a woman setting out to commit a deliberate murder armed thus? Could anyone believe that if she had gone there for a deadly purpose, or had known that her husband had deadly weapons upon him, she could have sat quietly and composed in the office whilst she and her husband waited for Mr Meller to arrive? Taylor had bought the revolver on his own and there was no evidence to show that she knew that he had it. Evidence as to her conduct had been given by young Meller, who had seen his father attacked and killed and by Hooley, who having received a wound was as much in a stage of agitation as was young Meller. It was quite clear from her conversation with the policeman that she did not know how Mr Meller came to his death, but innocent as she was, she was quite willing to sacrifice her life for her husband. Switching tack, he then went on:
There was nothing whatever to connect her in any way with the deaths of the three children. Whilst the handwriting on the notes was not that of her husband, it was not pretended that it was hers.
No satisfactory explanation as to who actually wrote the note was ever given to the court. He besought the jury to come to such a conclusion that would not only give them satisfaction now, but also raise no qualms later on and that their verdict would be consistent with justice, reason and mercy.
Mr Baron Wilde commenced his summing up by telling the jury to disregard much of what had been said to them in the way of appeals to their passions. The fact of the murder of Evan Meller had been proved beyond a doubt. The prisoners were man and wife, but the jury must consider their guilt separately. It was the husband’s act that killed Mr Meller. He stabbed him eleven or twelve times with a knife and then fired a pistol at him and the jury had been invited to consider that he was insane. ‘To be sure,’ said the judge, ‘he never showed himself as insane. No single act had been proved in evidence which was otherwise the act of a sane man and there was no want of health spoken to by any medical man.’
Then came the words that most assuredly settled the fate of William Taylor:
Therefore the case of insanity, as regards Taylor, was a case in which a man, perfectly sane on all other occasions, with a calm demeanour, with a settled purpose, without any extravagant excitement or any peculiar circumstances surrounding the act, took a knife and stabbed another man twelve times, causing his death.
None of the rest of the summing up carried the same force as those words. In referring to Mrs Taylor, the judge said that the evidence against her was by no means so full and rested chiefly on the one act sworn to by Meller’s son, the raising of the pistol. If after hearing the evidence and the summing up, the jury thought that she was taking part in the murder, they must do their duty honestly and fearlessly, but if on the other hand they had a reasonable doubt in her joining in the act, they must give her the benefit of that doubt.
The jury retired at twenty past two and in less than thirty minutes, returned with a ‘Guilty’ verdict on Taylor and ‘Not Guilty’ on his wife, who was at once released. The judge then read the death sentence in the usual form, which the prisoner heard with no emotion, except perhaps for a little twitching of the fingers as he clutched the dock rail.
The date of execution was set for 20 September at Kirkdale Prison and Taylor was to be hanged with a convicted Luddite, a man named John Ward, who had been involved in a scuffle with police when attempting to destroy a quantity of man-made bricks at Ashton-under-Lyne, during which PC William Jump was shot and killed. Ward had been convicted with one Burke, a fellow member of the Brickmaker’s Trades Union which was violently opposed to their wares being made mechanically. Burke had, however, been reprieved, leaving his comrade to face the death penalty alone.
As was usual for the times, the event was to be a public hanging on a scaffold that was erected at the back of Kirkdale Gaol. The crowd was immense, and many people, unable to afford the train fare, had walked during the night from Ashton, Manchester, Oldham and other places. Excursion trains were continually arriving during the early part of the morning and hundreds of people had been left standing at Oldham station as there was no room for them on the train. On the preceding day, two long beams had been drawn out of ‘portholes,’ just below an iron door, set high in the north-west angle of the prison wall. On this foundation was then bolted wooden flooring and below the floor was draped a black curtain, which would conceal for the most part the bodies of the men as they hung for the statutory one hour after execution.
On the morning before his death, Taylor had written two letters, one to his wife and the other to his sister in Somerset. The one to his wife said:
My loving and beloved wife, I woke this morning in peace and quiet. I feel truly peaceful and have no fear of death. I have not one nerve of my whole system in the last state of excitement. Thank you for your letter of yesterday, it was a source of comfort to me. May God give you grace to carry out your good resolutions to the end of time.
The letter went on at some length, exhorting his wife to be a blessing to the family and to lead them in the path of virtue. (It was perhaps an indication of exactly how much strain he was feeling, that he did not seem to realise now that all their children were dead.) In the same envelope, he sent to his wife a lock of hair. The letter concludes:
Now my dear wife, farewell, farewell to the end of time, but may we meet again. God bless you all. I bid you all farewell and send with all love, my very dear and affectionate wife, your loving and affectionate husband, William Taylor.
At a few minutes past noon, after having had the sacrament administered to them, the two condemned men appeared on the scaffold, accompanied by the executioner Calcraft and the chaplain, the Revd Mr Appleton. The culprits were carefully placed in their correct positions, Taylor on the right-hand side of the spectators and Ward on the left. Whilst the cap was being drawn over Taylor’s head, it became clear that he was attempting to speak, but was persuaded or prevented from doing so by the executioner, who pulled the cap over his face and adjusted the rope. After giving Ward similar attention, Calcraft stepped back to pull the lever that would send the two murderers to their doom. Just before he did so, Taylor was heard to exclaim, ‘Lord, have mercy on me, Amen.’ and then the trap fell. A deep moan came from the huge crowd as the men went to their doom. According to the Manchester Courier, both men died without a struggle and if so, they were lucky, as Calcraft was well known for bungling his executions and leaving his victims strangling on the rope.
An hour was allowed to go by and the executed men were then taken down and after a plaster cast had been made of Taylor’s face, the two bodies were buried within the prison precincts. Kirkdale Gaol was originally built in 1821 and was eventually sold to Liverpool Corporation in 1894 and demolished. The bodies of sixty-six murderers were removed at that time and buried in a public cemetery in an unmarked grave.