Читать книгу The Fall River Tragedy - Edwin H. Porter - Страница 4

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At high noon on Thursday the fourth day of August, 1892, the cry of murder swept through the city of Fall River like a typhoon on the smooth surface of an eastern sea. It was caught up by a thousand tongues and repeated at every street corner until it reached the utmost confines of the municipality. A double murder, the most atrocious of crimes, committed under the very glare of the mid-day sun within three minutes walk of the City Hall was the way the story went and it was true in every particular. Andrew J. Borden and his wife Abbie D. Borden had been assassinated in their home at 92 Second street. The manner in which the deed was done seemed so brutal, so mysterious, and the tragedy itself so unprecedented that people stared with open-mouthed amazement as they listened to the story passing from tongue to tongue. In the excitement of the moment the murderer had slipped away unobserved, and bloody as his crime had been he left no trace behind, nor clue to his identity. He had wielded an axe or some similar instrument with the skill of a headsman and had butchered in the most horrible manner the bodies of his defenseless victims.

THE BORDEN RESIDENCE.

When discovered, the remains of Mr. Borden lay stretched at full length upon the sofa in the sitting room of his home; the head literally hacked into fragments and the fresh blood trickling from every wound. Up stairs in the guest chamber lay the body of Mrs. Borden similarly mangled and butchered with the head reeking in a crimson pool. She had been murdered while in the act of making the bed and her husband had died as he lay taking his morning nap.

In the house was Miss Lizzie A. Borden, youngest daughter of the slain couple, and Bridget Sullivan, the only servant. They and they alone had been within calling distance of the victims as the fiend or fiends struck the fatal blows. The servant was in the attic, and the daughter was in the barn not more than thirty feet from the back door of the house. This was the condition of things on the premises when the cry went forth which shocked the city and startled the entire country. Neighbors, friends, physicians, police officers and newspaper reporters gathered at the scene in an incredibly short space of time. It was soon learned that the daughter Lizzie had been the first to make the horrible discovery. She said that not many minutes before, she had spoken to her father upon his return from the city; and that after seeing him comfortably seated on the sofa she had gone out to the barn to remain a very short time. Upon returning she saw his dead body and gave the alarm which brought the servant from the attic. Without thinking of Mrs. Borden the daughter sent Bridget for help. Mrs. Adelaide B. Churchill the nearest neighbor, Dr. S. W. Bowen and Miss Alice Russell were among the first to respond. Shortly afterward the dead body of Mrs. Borden was discovered and the unparalleled monstrosity of the crime became apparent. There had been murder most foul, and so far as the developments of the moment indicated, without a motive or a cause. The street in front of the house soon became blocked with a surging mass of humanity, and the excitement grew more and more intense as the meager details of the assassination were learned. Men with blanched faces hurried back and forth through the yard; police officers stood in groups for a moment and talked mysteriously; physicians consulted among themselves and kind friends ministered to the bereaved daughter and offered her consolation.

Inside the house where the bodies lay the rooms were in perfect order. Mrs. Borden had smoothed out the last fold in the snow white counterpane, and placed the pillows on the bed with the utmost care of a tidy housewife. Every piece of furniture stood in its accustomed place and every book and paper was laid away with rigid exactness. Only the blood as it had dashed in isolated spots against the walls and door jams, and the reeking bodies themselves showed that death in its most violent form had stalked through the unpretentious home and left nothing but its bloody work to tell the tale. No one dared go so far as to suggest a motive for the crime. The house had not been robbed and the friends of the dead had never heard of such a thing as an enemy possessed of hatred enough to commit so monstrous a deed. As the hours passed a veil of deepest mystery closed around the scene and the most strenuous efforts of the authorities to clear the mystery away seemed more and more futile as their work progressed. Men with cool heads, and with cunning and experience sought in vain to unearth some facts to indicate who the criminal might be, but their skill was unavailing, they were baffled at every turn. The author of that hideous slaughter had come and gone as gently as the south wind, but had fulfilled his mission as terrifically as a cyclone. No more cunning plan had ever been hatched in a madman’s brain, and no more thorough work was ever done by the guillotine. Mystery sombre and absolute hung in impenetrable folds over the Borden house, and not one ray of light existed to penetrate its blackness.

Mr. Borden and his wife were spending their declining years, highly respected residents, with wealth enough to enjoy all the comforts and luxuries of modern life. Mr. Borden by years of genuine New England thrift and energy had gathered a fortune, and his exemplary life had served to add credit to a family name which had been identified with the development and prosperity of his native state for two hundred years, and which has been known to public and private life since the time of William the Conqueror. His family had the open sesame to the best society. The contentment which wealth, influence and high social standing could bring was possible to his family, if its members chose to have it. But he and his wife had been murdered and there was no one who cared to come forward and explain why death had so ruthlessly overtaken them. One thing was manifest; an iron will and a heart of flint had directed the arm which struck those unoffending people down in a manner exceeding the savage cruelty of the most blood-thirsty creature—man or beast. The police officers invaded the house and searched in vain for some evidence to assist them in hunting down the murderer. They learned nothing tangible, but they laid the foundation for their future work by carefully scrutinizing the home and its surroundings as well as the bodies. A hint was sent out that a mysterious man had been seen on the doorsteps arguing with Mr. Borden only a few days before. Had he done the deed? To those who stopped to contemplate the circumstances surrounding the double murder, it was marvelous to reflect how fortune had favored the assassin. Not once in a million times would fate have paved such a way for him. He had to deal with a family of six persons in an unpretentious two-and-a-half story house, the rooms of which were all connected and in which it would have been a difficult matter to stifle sound. He must catch Mr. Borden alone and either asleep, or off his guard, and kill him with one fell blow. The faintest outcry would have sounded an alarm. He must also encounter Mrs. Borden alone and fell her, a heavy woman, noiselessly. To do this he must either make his way from the sitting room on the ground floor to the spare bed room above the parlor and avoid five persons in the passage, or he must conceal himself in one of the rooms up stairs and make the descent under the same conditions. The murdered woman must not lisp a syllable at the first attack, and her fall must not attract attention. He must then conceal the dripping implement of death and depart in broad daylight by a much frequented street. In order to accomplish this he must take a time when Miss Emma L. Borden, the elder daughter of the murdered man, was on a visit to relatives out of the city; Miss Lizzie A. Borden, the other daughter, must be in the barn and remain there twenty minutes. A less time than that would not suffice. Bridget Sullivan, the servant, must be in the attic asleep on her own bed. Her presence in the pantry or kitchen or any room on the first or second floors would have frustrated the fiend’s designs, unless he also killed her so that she would die without a murmur. In making his escape there must be no blood stains upon his clothing; for such tell-tale marks might have betrayed him. And so, if the assailant of the aged couple was not familiar with the premises, his luck favored him exactly as described. He made no false move. He could not have proceeded more swiftly nor surely had he lived in the modest edifice for years. At the most he had just twenty minutes in which to complete his work. He must go into the house after Miss Lizzie entered the barn and he must disappear before she returned. More than that, the sixth member of the family, John V. Morse, must vanish from the house while the work was being done. He could not have been counted on by any criminal, however shrewd, who had planned the tragedy ahead. Mr. Morse came and went at the Borden homestead. He was not engaged in business in Fall River and there were no stated times when the wretch who did the slaughtering could depend upon his absence. Mr. Morse must not loiter about the house or yard after breakfast as was his custom; he must take a car to some other part of the city and he must not return until his host and hostess have been stretched lifeless. The slightest hitch in these conditions and the murderer would have been balked or detected red handed upon the spot. Had Miss Emma remained at home she would have been a stumbling block; had Miss Lizzie left the stable a few moments earlier she would have seen the murderer as he ran out the side door; had Bridget Sullivan shortened her nap and descended the stairs she would have heard her mistress drop, as the axe fell on her head; had Mr. Morse cut short his visit to friends by as much as ten minutes the butcher would have dashed into his arms as he ran out at the front gate; had Mr. Borden returned earlier from his morning visit to the post office he would have caught the assassin murdering his aged wife, or had he uttered a scream at the time he himself was cut down, at least two persons would have rushed to his assistance.

It was a wonderful chain of circumstances which conspired to clear the way for the murderer; so wonderful that its links baffled men’s understanding.

CITY MARSHAL RUFUS B. HILLIARD.

City Marshal Rufus B. Hilliard received the first intimation that a murder had been committed by telephone message. He was sitting in his office at the Central police station when John Cunningham entered a store half a block from the Borden house and gave notice of the affair. He immediately sent officer George Allen to the scene and then by signal informed each member of his force who was on duty at the time. This was at 11:15 in the forenoon. Officer Allen was the first policeman to visit the house and he saw the horribly mutilated body of Mr. Borden, as it lay on the sofa. One glance was sufficient to cause the policeman to stand almost rooted to the floor, for he had come unprepared to witness such a sight. Without delay he hurried to the Marshal’s office and made a personal report of what he had seen.

Almost all of the night patrolmen and many of the day men were absent from the city on the day of the killing, on the annual excursion of the Fall River Police Association to Rocky Point, a shore resort near Providence, R. I., and this unusual condition served greatly to handicap the efforts of Marshal Hilliard in his attempt to get possession of a tangible clue to the perpetration of the crimes. The city was but poorly protected by members of the day force, who were doing double duty.

JOHN CUNNINGHAM.

However, within half an hour after the general alarm had been sent out a half dozen officers from the central part of the city had arrived at the Borden house. They were instructed to make a careful search of the premises. Officer Allen before he returned to the police station, had stationed Charles S. Sawyer at the door on the north side of the house, and had instructed him to allow no one except policemen and physicians to enter the building. Mr. Sawyer was besieged by hundreds of citizens, but stood firmly at his post during the entire day, and it was a time of intense excitement and pressing demands for admittance. The street in front of the house was blocked before noon with wagons, teams and pedestrians, and the people stood for hours in the hot sunshine of an exceptionally warm midsummer day and speculated and theorized as to what possible motive any one could have had in so heartlessly butchering the aged man and woman. Inside the yard and house, policemen in uniform and in citizen’s garb, hurried to and fro with an air of mystery which was becoming them, for to all appearances the assassin had vanished as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed him.

The Borden house, a plain two-and-a-half story frame structure, stands on the east side of Second street and is numbered 92. It is but one block away from the main thoroughfare of the busy city of Fall River. Hundreds of vehicles and numberless people pass and repass before the building daily and yet no person could be found who saw a suspicious move or heard an unaccustomed sound on that fatal forenoon, until Miss Lizzie told how she had called Mrs. Churchill, and informed her that a murder had been committed. Mrs. Churchill had been to market and was returning home at about 11 o’clock. She saw Bridget Sullivan, who was also familiarly called “Maggie,” running across the street to the residence of Dr. S. W. Bowen, the family physician. The girl told her that “something awful” had happened, and then Mrs. Churchill went into her own house and in a very short time appeared at the kitchen window, which commands a view of the side door of the Borden residence. She saw Miss Lizzie sitting on the back doorsteps, with her face buried in her hands and seemingly in great distress. Mrs. Churchill crossed the yard and offered Miss Lizzie a few words of consolation.

GEORGE W. ALLEN.

Bridget Sullivan, the only living person who admits that she was in the house at the time of the killing, was the first to give the alarm, by notifying Mrs. Dr. Bowen. Bridget was in her own room in the attic where she had gone to wash the windows; and after completing the work had lain down on the bed to rest. While there she heard Miss Lizzie call and from the tone of her voice knew that something was wrong. Bridget came down quickly and Miss Lizzie said to her, “Father is dead, go for Dr. Bowen.” Bridget obeyed. The physician was not at home and she returned. Then Miss Lizzie sent her for Miss Alice Russell, who lived two blocks away, and who was an intimate friend of the family. Briefly this is what had taken place before the arrival of officer Allen; and up to that time no one except the assassin knew that the body of Mrs. Abbie D. Borden lay weltering in its own blood, in the guest chamber on the second floor. To those who early visited the house, the vision of Mr. Borden’s body as it lay on the sofa, with the life blood still warm, and flowing from a dozen gaping wounds was a horror so dreadful that they had no thought of Mrs. Borden. It remained for the neighbor, Mrs. Churchill, and the servant Bridget, to make this awful discovery. Dr. Bowen, who had arrived shortly after Bridget’s visit to his house, in response to her call, asked for a sheet with which to cover the body of Mr. Borden. Bridget brought one from one of the back bedrooms on the upper floor. About this time Miss Lizzie asked for her mother. It is related that this request for some one to go and find Mrs. Borden was the second made by Miss Lizzie. Suddenly it dawned upon those present that in the midst of the excitement of the moment, Mrs. Borden had been forgotten. Of all persons in the world, she would have been more deeply interested in the death of her husband and possibly she could give some explanation of his tragic taking off.

Bridget was unwilling to go alone in search of Mrs. Borden and so Mrs. Churchill volunteered to bear her company. The two women passed through the front hall and ascended the stairs in the front entry. Reaching a landing half way up where their eyes were on a level with the floor, they looked across the hall, through an open door, under the bed, and saw the prostrate form of the dead woman. It lay full on the face and the arms were folded underneath. Mrs. Churchill turned and retraced her steps to the kitchen. She sighed audibly as she took a chair and Miss Russell said to her, “What, another?” The reply was, “Yes, Mrs. Borden is killed too.” Bridget had followed back to the kitchen.

JOHN J. MANNING.

Special police officer Patrick H. Doherty was the second policeman to reach the house, and he was soon followed by Assistant Marshal John Fleet and officers Michael Mullaly, John Devine and William H. Medley. Before noon several other policemen, friends of the family and local newspaper men had been admitted to the house. Also Medical Examiner Dr. William A. Dolan and a number of other physicians.

The Medical Examiner arrived at 11:45 and encountered Dr. Bowen and Bridget on his way into the sitting room. He then made a hasty view of the bodies and the house, and commenced immediately to make preparations for holding an autopsy.

John Vinnicum Morse, brother of Andrew J. Borden’s first wife and uncle of Misses Lizzie and Emma, arrived at the house shortly before noon. He entered the north gate and went directly to a pear tree in the back yard, where he ate two pears and then returned to the side door and entered; then Miss Lizzie told him that Mr. and Mrs. Borden had been murdered. Mr. Morse had slept in the guest chamber, where Mrs. Borden’s body was found, on the previous night and had after eating his breakfast that morning, left the house to visit a relative who resided on Weybosset street, in Fall River, about a mile from the Borden House. It was remembered that Mr. Borden fastened the screen on the side door after Mr. Morse passed out at 9:20 o’clock in the morning, and bade his guest return in time for dinner. Mr. Morse had come to the house on the afternoon before the tragedy and had spent a few hours with Mr. Borden and then had driven to the Borden summer residence and farm which are situated about six miles from the city, in the town of Somerset. He returned in time for supper and spent the night in the house.

Miss Lizzie sat at the foot of the back stairs and near the side door, when Mrs. Churchill arrived. She had called her neighbor and informed her that Mr. Borden had been “stabbed or killed.” Then she went into the kitchen and remained a few minutes. Here she was seen by a number of policemen, physicians and others who had been admitted to the house before noon. She told Mrs. Churchill that she had been absent from the sitting room a few minutes and that she spent the time in the barn, where she had gone to get a piece of iron.

About noon she went upstairs to her own bedroom in company with Miss Alice Russell, and the two sat alone for some time. While in the upper part of the house she was approached by Assistant Marshal John Fleet who made numerous inquiries concerning the condition of things in the house previous to the murders. She told him as she had told others, that Mrs. Borden had received a note delivered by a boy, early in the morning, asking her to come and visit a friend who was sick. She did not know who sent the message nor who delivered it, except that the bearer was a small boy. Her father she said had had angry words with an unknown man on the front steps a few days before the murder. She thought the man was a farm laborer. The daughter also gave the police information that the entire family had been sick a few days before and that she feared that an enemy had attempted to poison them. The sickness had followed after drinking milk, and this fact was enough to cause Miss Lizzie to suspect that the milk had been tampered with. The information given by the daughter was carried to Marshal Hilliard and he ordered several policeman to guard the main roads leading out of the city. A squad was also sent to Taunton River Bridge, over which the assassin, if he was a farm laborer, would pass on his way to the country. The police questioned Bridget closely and she corroborated what Miss Lizzie had said about the sickness in the family.

So confused was the servant girl that she could tell no coherent story of the condition of things about the house during the forenoon. She did say that during the morning, Mrs. Borden had instructed her to wash the windows from the outside of the house. This she had done. After receiving this order from her mistress, Bridget did not see her alive again. She finished her work before 10 o’clock, and while in the sitting room heard Mr. Borden trying to get in at the front door. He had returned from the city. She opened the front door and let Mr. Borden in and then went up stairs. This was the last she saw of him until Miss Lizzie called her when the body was found.

When the police officers arrived they began to search the house for the weapon, and Bridget showed them into the cellar. Here they found four hatchets, one of which had the appearance of having been washed after recent use. At this time little attention was paid to this particular hatchet, but all the hatchets were taken to the police station.

Shortly after 12 o’clock special officer Philip Harrington arrived at the house, as had other policemen. He joined in the search for evidence which would lead to the arrest of the murderer or to the discovery of the weapon. After viewing the bodies he went to Miss Lizzie, who was in her own room talking with Miss Alice Russell. He asked her if she knew anything about the crime, and she replied “No.” It was then that she detailed to him the story of her visit to the barn, and he cautioned her to be careful, and to give him all the information in her possession.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” said the officer, “you will have a clearer frame of mind.” “No sir,” responded Miss Lizzie with a gentle courtesy, “I can tell you all I know now just as well as at any other time.”

The conversation was prolonged and during the entire time Miss Lizzie controlled her emotions wonderfully for a young lady who had so recently been called upon to witness the blood of her father and step-mother flowing from dozens of hideous wounds. When the officer left her he went to the City Marshal and related his experience. The public was not informed that then and there suspicions were aroused in the minds of the police that the daughter knew more of the circumstances of the tragedy then she cared to tell, but nevertheless this was true.

All through that eventful day the police searched the house, cellar, yard and barn but found nothing to confirm any suspicions which they might have entertained as to who was guilty of the crimes.

Hon. John W. Coughlin, mayor of the city, who is a physician, was among the first at the house and he took an active interest in the search for evidence. From cellar to attic the police and physicians delved into every nook and corner; every particle of hay in the barn loft and every blade of grass in the yard was turned over; and when the day was done the harvest had been nothing, except the discovery of the double murder of a peaceful old man and his harmless wife, struck down in their home like an ox in the stall. There was no assassin, no weapon, no motive; just the crime and veil of mystery surrounding which apparently time alone could lift.

They found the house in perfect order. The front and cellar doors were locked; and every window sash was down. Even the victims as they lay showed no signs of a struggle and the blood which spurted as the weapon fell had not bespattered the rooms and furniture as it generally does under circumstances such as these which surrounded the butchery of the Bordens. They found two persons in the house living and two dead; and the living could throw no light upon the darkness which clouded the stark forms of the dead. A sturdy old man, rich in this world’s goods, highly esteemed, retired from active life, without a known enemy, and his equally unoffending wife were cut down in their own house, in the broad daylight; and the assassin had left absolutely no trace of himself. No man had seen him enter the house and no one had witnessed his departure. The city was excited as it never was before; thousands of people hurried from their places of business, from the workshop and the mill, and gathered in the street in front of the house. Newspaper men from the principal cities of New York and New England, to which the telegraph had communicated the news of the astounding crime, arrived on the afternoon trains; and as the day wore on, the dark mystery grew darker and the task of fastening the crime on the guilty party took on the semblance of an impossibility.

Medical Examiner Dolan and a corps of physicians held an autopsy on the bodies in the afternoon and found that thirteen blows had rained upon the head of the unsuspecting Mr. Borden, and that no less than eighteen had descended upon the skull of Mrs. Borden. The cuts were deep and long and any one of them would have produced instant death.

Could any but a maniac have inflicted those pitiless wounds; or could any but a madman have struck so ruthlessly and unerringly and watched the effect as the weapon sped on its mission of death, time and time again? These were questions which suggested themselves to the public, but they were unanswered and seemingly unanswerable.

This was the baffling condition of things which beset Marshal Hilliard and his officers after the scene had been hurriedly gone over. Out of this chaos of bloody crime and bewildering uncertainty, the police were expected to bring light and order. It was a herculean task yet they went to work with an energy prompted by duty, and spurred to greater efforts by the public demand that justice overtake the author of the foul deeds.