This topic examines the changing face of crime and how it is depicted by writers of the West Midlands from the 19th Century to the present day. Recurring themes are women as perpetrators of crime and women as victims, the moral decline into criminality and the examination of the criminal mind.
Crimes against property and the person are well documented both in the press of the day and the novels that reflect society's view of the criminal. In the 19th century a new genre began to emerge - the "Newgate genre" stemming from the Newgate Calendar, which was published from the 1700s until the mid-19th century, publicising notorious crimes. By the 19th century popular novelists, such as William Harrison Ainsworth, were depicting the lives of famous criminals like Dick Turpin in Rookwood or the equally notorious Jack Sheppard. Eventually this led to the writers of such novels being vilified for glorifying crime rather than taken a moral stance against it.
Below is a selection of views on the various aspects of crime.
Mrs Henry Wood depicts crimes of a petty nature in many of her short stories, but also shows the corruption of a powerful magistrate over a poorer parishioner in her short story Major Parrifer:
"I'll go," said Reed. "But I'd like to leave a word behind me. You have succeeded in doing me a great injury, Major Parrifer. You are rich and powerful, I am poor and lowly. You set your mind on my bit of a home, and because you could not drive me from it, you took advantage of your magistrate's post to sentence me to prison, and revenged. It has done me a great deal of harm. What good has it done you?"In Jack Sheppard Ainsworth also touches upon the falsely accused:
Major Parrifer could not speak for rage.
"It will come home to you, sir; mark me if it does not. God has seen my trouble, and my wife's trouble, and I don't believe He ever let such a wrong pass unrewarded. It will come home to you Major Parrifer."
Major Parrifer by Mrs Henry Wood.
"You shan't touch me," rejoined Thames, and suddenly bursting from Charcam, he threw himself at the feet of Trenchard. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. "I am innocent. I have stolen nothing. This person - this Jonathan Wild - whom I beheld for the first time scarcely an hour ago in Wych-Street, is, I know not why, my enemy. He has sworn that he'll take away my life."And in Silas Marner, George Eliot conveys the desperation of the wrongly accused:
Jack Sheppard by William Harrison Ainsworth. Epoch the second, Chapter 9.
At last, when everyone rose to depart, he went towards William Dane and said, in a voice shaken by agitation --
"The last time I remember using my knife, was when I took it out to cut a strap for you. I don't remember putting it in my pocket again. You stole the money, and you have woven a plot to lay the sin at my door. But you may prosper, for all that: there is no just God that governs the earth righteously, but a God of lies, that bears witness against the innocent."
There was a general shudder at this blasphemy.
William said meekly, "I leave our brethren to judge whether this is the voice of Satan or not. I can do nothing but pray for you, Silas."
Silas Marner by George Eliot. Part 1, Chapter 1.
A person's reputation has always been important to the individual, and, to a greater or lesser extent, to society at large. When economic power is compromised a good name is often the only thing a person has left. In the nineteenth century, for women of the middle to upper classes, reputation was paramount, and, if damaged, a woman could be ostracised from society. In her novel Prisoners, Mary Cholmondeley illustrates a conflict of reputation over an accusation of murder.
cholmon.htmShe would pray incessantly that the real murderer might give himself up, or that suspicion should fall on him, and he should be dragged to justice. And then--if, after all--Michael were convicted and his life endangered, then she must speak. But--not till then. Not now, when all might yet go well without her confession…And it was not as if she were guilty of unfaithfulness. She had not done anything wrong beyond imprudence. Yes; she had certainly been imprudent; that she saw. But she had done nothing wrong. It could not be right to confess to what in public opinion amounted to unfaithfulness on her part, and dishonourable conduct on his, when it was not so. They were both innocent. It would be telling a lie to let any one think either of them could be guilty of such a sordid crime. It looked sordid now. Why should she drag down his name with hers into the mud--unless it were absolutely necessary?…And she must remember how distressed Michael would be if she said a word, if she flung her good name from her, which he had risked all to save.
Prisoners by Mary Cholmondeley. Chapter 6.
Hesba Stretton touches upon a boy protecting his mother's name:
Yet what had the boy been guilty of? Untaught, untrained, with no instruction but the vile and coarse lessons of a London slum, he had kept true to the only faith he had: his faith in an honest and industrious father. He had striven to his utmost to be honest and industrious, and he had not failed. His crimes had been--begging for his mother when she was dying of hunger; and rescuing--hotly, perhaps, but bravely--a slur upon his mother's good name, when that was malignd by the man who had robbed her.
In prison and out by Hesba Stretton. Chapter 14.
Presently he added: "Dunstan was the man that robbed Silas Marner." The blood rushed to Nancy's face and neck at this surprise and shame, for she had been bred up to regard even a distant kinship with crime as a dishonour.
Silas Marner by George Eliot. Part 2, Chapter 18.
Often writers of the 19th century examined the reasons for people's slide into a criminal lifestyle. The general view was one of moral decline rather than the effect of poverty.
"The devil entered into me, as he did into Judas Iscariot, I suppose. I hadn't--I never had--the moral backbone of character with which Mr. Walker credited me. As his servant, I deceived him--though he never guessed it; as his partner, I betrayed him. I wanted to be rich and powerful; it was the devil of greed and gain that made me his own, and bound me fast in his accursed chains. I listened to the tempter, and fell by slow degrees into the pit of crime and ruin."
A woman's patience by Emma Jane Worboise. Chapter 42.
The stranger gave a low whistle, forgetting he was in the porch of a church. "Is it not hazardous, sir, to employ a thief even on your out-door land?"
"Well, you see, the Ledbitters were so much respected; people cannot help feeling for them. A likelier, steadier young fellow than John was, one could not expect to meet. I say it must have been a moment of sudden madness, or some other sort of temptation. But he has got his treadmill on him: there's not a mad dog in the parish more shunned than he."
The mail-cart robbery by Mrs Henry Wood. Part the first.
"I should never have acted as I did," rejoined Sheppard, bitterly; "if Mrs. Wood hadn't struck me. That blow made me a thief. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door."
Jack Sheppard by William Harrison Ainsworth. Epoch the second,chapter 6.
Sabine Baring-Gould portrayed earlier times his novel Bladys of the Stewponey when burning at the stake for petty treason (murdering a husband) was still in practice. The central character, Bladys, marries an executioner and Baring-Gould explores the whole experience of the death penalty, both on those convicted, and on those charged with carrying out the law.
"They have represented my son as a bugbear. He is a good man and reads his Bible, and I am a religious woman. Why should he be worse than the judge that condemns? than the jury who convict? than the men who make the laws? He doth but execute what they order. His is the hand that performeth what the head directeth. We are given free lodgings, and are paid; and, moreover, we have a right to the clothing of such as are sent to their death by the hands of Luke. If there be crime, must it not be punished? And is he not worthy of esteem who executes the decree upon the criminal? What would the world come unto save violence and savagery if it were not that Justice stands forth to protect the weak? My son is but the minister of Justice. What saith the Scripture? 'Wilt thou not be afraid of the power, do that which is good. For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do evil, be afraid, for he beareth not the sword in vain; he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.' What are you, to scorn what the Word of Scripture deemeth honourable?"
Bladys of the Stewponey by Sabine Baring-Gould. Chapter 11.
"My brothers, you do wrong. It is not the hangman who is in fault; he but fulfils the duty for which he is paid. Nor is the sheriff to blame; he sees to the execution of the laws. It is with the inhuman criminal laws of England that the sin lies. They are a disgrace to a Christian land; they are a stain on modern civilisation. You have votes; you send your deputies to Parliament. Unite and insist on this--that such barbarous enactments be swept away."
Bladys of the Stewponey by Sabine Baring-Gould. Chapter 13.
In Prisoners, Mary Cholmondeley shows the outcome of a woman murdering her husband and blaming someone else for the death:
"The marchesa did repent," said Magdalen.
Wentworth laughed harshly.
"Oh yes! On her deathbed, in order to save her soul. She wanted to be right with the next world. But how could she go on, year in, year out, letting him burn and freeze alternately in that vile cell? She must have known, some one must have told her, what his life was like. How well I remember, Fay, your saying: 'Why does not the real murderer confess? How can he go on letting an innocent man wear out his life in prison, bearing the punishment of his horrible crime?' How little we both knew! I always supposed the assassin was a man, a common criminal of the lowest order. Yet it seems there are women in the world, educated, refined women, who can remorselessly pinch a man's life out of him with their white hands. The marchesa has murdered two people: first her husband, and then my boy--my foolish, quixotic, generous Michael. May God forgive her! I never will."
Prisoners by Mary Cholmondeley. Chapter 31.
Sabine Baring-Gould examines more profoundly a woman awaiting execution for murdering a husband, a crime known in earlier centuries as petty treason, punishable by death:
"Hearken quietly to me," said Mrs Onion. "I have seen many women suffer, but none have cut so poor a figure as yourself. In one half-hour you must be conveyed through the streets. If you have any sense of decency you will be ashamed to be seen as you are, with bedabbled face, stained cheeks, and tangled hair. A woman desires to look her best, even when going to her death. You are a gentlewoman, and should set an example. As a person of fashion you should not appear in this disordered state. Moreover, consider that every woman would wish to awaken regard, pity. Such as you are now, you will provoke none; people will protest, 'She is grumpish, and the world is well rid of such baggage--let her burn.'And in The Wisdom of Folly, Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler shows the extreme pressure of a woman in a violent marriage:
Bladys of the Stewponey by Sabine Baring-Gould. Chapter 12.
Zillah vindicated her outraged instincts and broke through her unbearable fetters at one stroke; realising nothing but her child's agony and the necessity of saving the infant's life at all costs, the maddened mother seized the thing which came nearest to her hand - a large carving-knife lying on the table - and, regardless of the inevitable result of her action, plunged the deadly weapon with all her strength between her husband's shoulders.
The wisdom of folly by Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler. Chapter 5.
To a man of Michael's temperament the living grave to which he was consigned was infinitely worse than death.
Prisoners by Mary Cholmondeley. Chapter 6.
It was five years since David Fell had first crossed the fatal threshold of the gaol. He had graduated in crime, and, being neither a blockhead nor a lout, he had developed skill enough to transgress the laws and yet evade the penalty. The untrained ability of an English artisan, and the shrewd tact of a London lad, had grown into the cunning and business-like adroitness of a confirmed criminal. The police knew him well by sight or report; but he had kept out of their hands for the last two years, in spite of much suspicion, and many hair-breadth escapes from conviction. He was doing credit to the brotherhood which had been forced upon him--the brotherhood of thieves. There was no disgrace for him now, except the disgrace of being found out.
In prison and out by Hesba Stretton. Chapter 20.
Much has been advanced by modern writers respecting the demoralizing effect of prison society; and it has been asserted, that a youth once confined in Newgate, is certain to come out a confirmed thief. It is a cheering reflection, that in the present prison, with its clean, well-whitewashed, and well-ventilated wards, its airy courts, its infirmary, its improved regulations, and its humane and intelligent officers, many of the miseries of the old jail are removed. For these beneficial changes society is mainly indebted to the unremitting exertions of the philanthropic Howard.
Jack Sheppard by William Harrison Ainsworth. Epoch the third, Chapter 9.
The kiss of Bladys and the words of Austin were not lost. They did not arouse the multitude, and give direction to their indignation, in vain. They produced their effect beyond Shrewsbury. They had a far more extended effect. In the same year, 1790, that this poor woman was burnt at Shrewsbury, in the very next session of Parliament, this method of execution was abolished, and the crime of petty treason was struck out of the Statutes.
Bladys of the Stewponey by Sabine Baring-Gould. Chapter 13.
Misery and degradation and crime lay all about Dudley as he turned homewards, and for the moment it seemed a hopeless task to endeavour to raise this dead mass of city's lowest population from its ignorance and savagery. And what if the law did not aid him! If the best of these young barbarians, yielding to his natural instincts, broke the laws he did not know, and was arrested by a Christian people, not to be wisely and gently dealt with, but to be set for evermore against society, every man's hand against him and his hand against every man, what chance was there for him and his fellow-labourers to work any deliverance?
In prison and out by Hesba Stretton. Chapter 14.
Contemporary crime writers form part of what is now a well established genre, with strong plots and shrewd detectives, characters often made more famous through television adaptations of the novels. The writers convey an accurate account of police techniques, of forensics and of the examination of the criminal mind in their stories. Criminal activities reflect modern dysfunctional society, and the plots often involve a perverse game between detector and criminal, with few satisfactory outcomes for the world-weary detectives.
As in earlier times the plots mirror the concerns of the general public and often the victims of the stories are women, a reinforcement of the perceived threat to lone women in today's society.
But a new role has emerged for professional women in crime novels, paralleling the progress of women in the police force. Crime writers have moved away from the amateur detective of the Miss Marple type to portraying strong female detectives in their novels. Many write about multi-faceted females, still operating in a male dominated workplace, but using their tenacity and attention to detail to conclude the case.
After a morning's unremitting pouring over paperwork on which she had only the most slender of grasps, Kate allowed herself to stretch and look out of the window. No Ben this morning - he was in court. And - perhaps taking their cue from Lizzie - none of her other colleagues had gone out of their way to invite her to join them in the canteen for lunch. That was their prerogative. Kate had had to earn respect and comradeship before; she could do it again, though she'd have preferred not to have the odds against her stacked quite so high.
Will Power by Judith Cutler. Chapter 1.
Then, there was the situation with George Elliott, or Detective Sergeant Georgina Elliott as she was properly known. They had worked well together for some time but then things had begun to get too personal. It had really started at the Van Morrison concert at the N.E.C. in Birmingham in the summer of 1996, although he had to admit their relationship had been growing closer over quite some time. He had believed, foolishly he now realised, that this was no more than the natural closeness of two people who professionally shared so much. They had become a good team, he knew. They worked well together. They each brought different skills to their work - she with her methodical approach and careful attention to detail, he with his greater reliance on intuition and on breathing in the air around a crime to enable him to see the fuller picture.
Bird on the wing by Bob Bibby. Chapter 1.
There are pages on this website devoted to the following writers mentioned above:-
Other crime writers from the West Midlands:
Further information on the following topics can be obtained by following the links to other websites.
Page created 1 October 2002 and last updated
24 January 2003
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