Sunday 23 November 2014

Insanity, Induced by the Aspersion of Character


On the first day in May 1871, nine year old Mary Ann McPhee ran out of the All Seasons Hotel in Caversham Dunedin, screaming “Da, mother’s killed herself and Nelly.”  The very next day Mary Ann was forced to relive that scene – she was called to the stand to give evidence at the coroner’s inquest into her mother’s actions.

 “Yesterday, about half past seven whilst I was dressing myself, I thought I heard a noise like a cock crowing.  I looked into the room I heard the noise coming from and saw my mother, Agatha McPhee lying on the floor with all her clothes on, cutting her own throat.  My sister Nelly lay on the floor; my mother’s head was on her hip.  I asked my mother who had killed Nelly and she touched her own breast meaning it was herself.”  Mary Ann went on to explain that earlier that morning her sister had been “running about among the neighbours” before her mother had picked her up and carried her inside. She had heard Nelly ask her mother where they were going, to which her mother had replied “I am going to take you to heaven.”

Various neighbours rushed to the scene.  Women bound the wounds on Agatha’s neck and the doctor and constable were sent for.  There were immediate concerns for the safety of the remaining McPhee children, but after some initial panic, the youngest child was found alive and well upstairs.  Agatha later admitted that she had initially intended to kill first Nelly and then the baby before taking her own life.

The incident was immediately and melodramatically reported.  The Dunedin Evening Star described it as “a tragedy so horrible in its character that the bare thought of it almost makes one’s blood run cold.”  The bodies were depicted as lying “weltering in blood” and “fair haired Nelly, barely four years of age” (who was “rather helpless through paralysis in the side”) was reported to have been almost beheaded, her neck having been hacked at with an eighteen inch butcher’s knife until her head was only connected to the body by a small band of flesh.  The article concluded by suggesting that a motive would soon be revealed.

Agatha did not die quietly.  To quote the Star – “She had a long cut across her throat, but her efforts to deprive herself of life were not so determinedly made as they were upon her child – none of the main arteries were severed.” Doctor Hammond sewed up the wound in her neck, and pronounced her survival to be doubtful, however despite her weakened condition Agatha could still communicate and was determined to explain her actions.  While she was still able to speak she asked her husband to forgive her and repeatedly demanded that a man named Peter Kane should be brought to her.  When unable to speak, she wrote notes.  In a message to Constable Anderson, she wrote “I wish to live until I see the man that took such advantage over me.  Send for him.” A Justice of the Peace was summoned and Agnes dictated several written statements that were witnessed in his presence. Peter Kane never faced his accuser that day, however witnesses who were present during Agatha’s final hours were left in no doubt that he was the person who had caused Agatha’s unspecified sin and shame.

The incident had been no secret.  At the inquest, a labourer named John Swain testified that Agatha had confided in him.  He described how a “very affected” Agatha, “scarcely able to speak” had told him that on the previous Wednesday night, during her husband’s absence, Peter Kane (her husband’s business partner) had entered her bedroom and had “laid hands on her”.  She had fought him off by fetching a carving knife and threatening him with it.  The following morning Kane had called her a whore (and worse) and threatened to destroy her good name if the event ever came to court.  John Swain advised Agatha that it was her duty to tell her husband and described leaving her “in a very sad state.”

As she lay dying, Agatha whispered to a neighbour that she had decided to kill herself and her two youngest children if her husband took the news of her attack badly; “if he cannot take it well, I can never look him in the face again.” Unfortunately, Donald McPhee reacted predictably poorly to the news of his wife’s abuse and Agatha revealed to the neighbour that after “seeing him crying and so much put about” she had made up her mind.

At the inquest Mary Ann McPhee testified that she had heard her parents talking, (but not quarrelling) in the night then had heard her father crying. Donald McPhee testified that he had wept at the news but had ‘no occasion to suspect his wife’s honour’ and had persuaded her to take the matter to court.  Agatha had reluctantly agreed, despite being “averse on the grounds of delicacy and nervousness” and distressed at the prospect of having her good character questioned.

Her death was protracted and degrading.  In the afternoon, Doctor Hammond found her to be “somewhat stronger and rational.” Agatha was able to ask whether Nelly had been laid out, (she had) and stated that it was too late for regrets but that she hoped that nobody would blame her husband for her own actions.  By evening her condition had deteriorated.  When Agatha rose up and attempted to tear open her throat wound the doctor was recalled. Finding her exhausted from her struggles and judging that she had a “better chance of recovery than of dying if she was kept quiet,” Doctor Hammond declined to sedate her, ordering instead that she should be confined to a straight jacket and tied down.  “After struggling for some time in the jacket and attempting to get off the sofa to which she was bound, she died suddenly from exhaustion following a self-inflicted wound, and from the shock to her system.”

The verdict of the Coroner’s jury was that Agatha and Nelly had died from wounds inflicted while Agatha was in a state of “temporary insanity induced by aspersion to her character.”  Peter Kane was charged with intent to commit rape and was remanded in custody. 

The exact nature of Kane’s physical assault was never specified.  With typical Victorian modesty Agatha had used euphemisms to describe the attack.  The clearest indication of exactly what had occurred that night was given by her husband Donald.  At the inquest he alleged that his wife had told him that Kane had taken hold of her and that despite her struggles he had “accomplished what he wanted.” Days later he published a hasty and very unfortunate retraction in the Otago Daily Times.  In a clumsy attempt to portray Agatha as an innocent victim, Donald’s written statement had completely exonerated Peter Kane of the crime of rape.

His posthumous attempt at salvaging his wife’s reputation destroyed the police case against Kane – they refused to pursue the prosecution however Donald McPhee chose to proceed with a private prosecution (ignoring the judge’s advice).  The case was hopeless.  Witness statements were regarded as hearsay and ruled inadmissible and Agatha’s delicately worded sworn written statements were so nonspecific as to be useless.  Peter Kane was judged to be innocent.                      
                                                              

Nelly was buried in the Southern Cemetery in Dunedin, when Donald died eight years later he was buried alongside his daughter.  Mary Ann never married; she died in 1923 and was also interred there.  The family plot bears no ornamentation or headstone and is identified only by surname.  One additional body only identified as ‘McPhee” was buried there six months after Donald’s death. It would be nice to think that a family member might have had Agatha’s body exhumed and quietly buried alongside her husband.                                     
                                                                                            
Wife and mother, Agatha McPhee deserves to be remembered as the person that her friends and family described. In typical understated Victorian fashion Donald said “she was sensitive but sensible and intelligent, I never had an angry word with her.” Another newspaper account relates that she was “much respected by all her acquaintances as a quiet and industrious woman.” 

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