The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective

The publisher’s description sums this book up neatly and accurately, but it doesn’t convey what a compelling story it tells. It’s a fascinating and gruesome murder mystery/detective story, with well-drawn characters and a focus on the relevant details, but all soundly documented by primary sources, including police and court documents, correspondence of the people involved, newspaper articles, and similar historic documents. It also looks at the popular reaction to the case and the great influence it had on the creation and rise in popularity of detective fiction. Everything is tied up neatly by the end, but it ends up being a rather melancholy tale when all is said and done.

Summerscale does a wonderful job of presenting show more interesting and relevant details without bogging down the history with a lot of boring facts. I typically hate reading history, so maybe this style of telling would disappoint historians, but I found it very engaging, like reading fiction. The notes (aside from a few explanatory notes at the ends of chapters) are endnotes, so I could flip to the back if I wanted to see her sources, or ignore them until a convenient lull in the story. So I guess I can tolerate history after all: just give me a lurid story told like fiction, with historic details inconspicuously tucked away out of sight. show less

This is really interesting, and really very difficult to classify. It's not a novel, as the events described are real, however, it is written in the style of detective fiction, with facts being unearthed as you go along. It's also social history, commenting on the state of policing, justice, criminality and prisons of the time. But then again, it runs as an early history of detective fiction itself, showing how many novels of the time set the trend for detectives to come, and how much of that style is based on this case. All in all, it's a fascinating book. The murder is one that shocked the Victorian world by undermining the ideal of family as the murder was committed by one of the family. but who? Mr Whicher had his suspiscions, but show more they were unproven at the time, and remained suspicions until one of the family confessed. However, even that confession leaves you slightly unsure that this is the entire truth.

And now re-read for bookclub. It's still interesting. Knowing the ending does reduce the tension within the story - you know Whicher is right, whereas on first read you don't know that for sure. It's a well written book that contains a lot of detail and bears a re-read well. show less

A little Victorian mystery is always good for distraction. I think the subtitle is a bit misleading. The murder was certainly shocking, but the investigation didn't actually "undo" Detective Jack Whicher, who wasn't all that great a detective either, based on the details of his career documented here. To be fair, the whole art/science of detection was very new in the mid-19th century. Apparently he did figure out who dunnit, and nobody believed him until his prime suspect confessed five years later. But he hadn't established any great reputation at the time. The disappearance of three-year old Saville Kent, and the discovery of his stabbed and mutilated body in a privy behind his home in 1860 led to the investigation detailed in [The show more Suspicions of Mr. Whicher]. The entire Kent household--family and servants-- came under scrutiny, in an age where personal privacy, modesty and discretion were so highly valued that a policeman asking to search for a murder weapon in your home, even under such dire circumstances, was almost unthinkable. God help us, the state of the women's underwear became an issue! (It's really no wonder so many women in the 19th century were seen as suffering from a form of madness...) This is more than a "true crime" story; the lives of all the principals, before and after the event, are set forth in a fair amount of detail, and some of them are quite remarkable. The victim's older half-brother, William (whom Whicher never entirely exonerated in his mind, despite sister Constance's confession and insistence that she alone was responsible) grew up to be a dedicated naturalist, whose book on coral reefs was definitive on the subject for decades. His half-sister Constance lived to be 100 years of age, and was noted for nursing lepers in Australia. This was an interesting companion to [Affinity], the Sarah Waters novel featuring the infamous Millbank prison on the Thames, which I read last year. show less

If you are only interested in a crime fiction novel or a novelized "true crime" book that claims to have all the answers, go elsewhere. The difference with true crime is that we can't jump inside the heads of the people involved and find out what they are really thinking. In reality life is not black and white and motives are not simple or simple to read. It is really hard to second guess the investigations and the opinions from 160 years ago.

This is an absolutely fabulous book about a murder in the 1860s. It is not fiction, but "true crime" but the author is very familiar with not only crime, but crime and detective fiction of that era, and peppers the book with both. It is very well written. Whether you like true crime or are show more interested in the history of the detective novel you will find this book fascinating. show less

In the early morning hours of June 30, 1860 three year old Saville Kent was abducted from his bed and murdered, his tiny body discovered the next day concealed in the privy, his throat cut ear to ear. The case cast everyone living in the household under suspicion. Samuel Kent (Saville’s father), the nursemaid Elizabeth Gough, Constance Kent (Saville’s 16 year old half sister), and William Kent (Saville’s 14 year old half brother) were to become the focus of the investigation, along with an odd villager named William Nutt who was the man to locate the child’s body. Within a short period of time Scotland Yard dispatched Detective-Inspector Jonathan (Jack) Whicher to the scene. Whicher, known for his cunning and skill, and show more embodying all the traits of the ideal Victorian sleuth would later be demonized for his probing investigation.

The Road Hill Case, as the murder came to be known, not only inflamed the public’s imagination, but it also changed the way detectives were viewed and ushered in a new era of fiction called ’sensation fiction.’

Kate Summerscale’s book is at once a compelling and fascinating look at Victorian England through the lens of a horrific crime. Summerscale examines nineteenth century societal mores, the evolving view of women, sexual awareness, and the role of the news media and literature in shaping views of morality, guilt and innocence.

Victorian women were seen as pure and innocent creatures, prone to hysteria and fits of insanity.

Women were thought to be prone to insanity, whether as a result of suppressed menstruation, a surplus of sexual energy, or the upheavals of puberty. - from The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, page 244 -

In addition, middle class English families had historically found shelter within the walls of their homes. Privacy was rarely interfered with - even when it came to investigating crimes.

Privacy had become the essential attribute of the middle-class Victorian family, and the bourgeoisie acquired an expertise in secrecy (the word ’secretive’ was first recorded in 1853). - from The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, page 109 -

When Whicher concluded that the murder of Saville had been commited by his sixteen year old half sister, and attempted to shore up that conclusion by probing deep within a middle-class family, the public (and press) were reluctant to accept his theory. Whicher was accused of exploiting the privacy of the family and the innocence of a young girl. In accusing a Constance Kent of the brutal crime, Whicher also seemed to be challenging Victorian beliefs.

‘The steps you have taken will be such as to ruin her for life - every hope is gone with regard to this young girl…And where is the evidence? The one fact - and I am ashamed in this land of liberty and justice to refer to it - is the suspicion of Mr. Whicher [...] - from The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, page 154 -

It was almost inconceivable that a respectable girl could be possessed of enough fury and emotion to kill, and enough cool to cover it. The public preferred to believe in the detective’s villainy, to attribute the moral pollution to him. - from The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, page 154 -

I found it interesting to read about the view of the press during the nineteenth century. Not only were they demonized, but later novels based on the Road Hill case and articles which referenced it were thought to be a corrupting influence on those who read them. I am reminded of present day arguments which suggest reading questionable material can damage young minds.

The dizzying expansion of the press in the 1850s prompted worries that readers might be corrupted, infected, inspired by the sex and violence in newspaper articles. The new journalists shared much with the detectives: they were seen alternately as crusaders for truth and as sleazy voyeurs. - from The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, page 106 -

In the early 1860s the emotions aroused by the Road Hill murder went underground, leaving the pages of the press to reappear, disguised and intensified, in the pages of fiction. On 6 July 1861, almost exactly a year after the murder, the first installment of Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s Lady Audley’s Secret appeared in Robin Goodfellow magazine. - from The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, page 217 -

Many feared that sensation novels were a ‘virus’ that might create the corruption they described, forming a circle of excitement - sexual and violent - that coursed through every stratum of society. - from The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, page 219 -

Summerscale’s writing is clear and probing. Her book does not just look at a sensational crime, but explores the evolution of today’s crime scene investigation, the role of the press in criminal cases, the changing societal mores during the Victorian era, and how real life influenced literature. Wilkie Collins’ classic novel The Moonstone is based in large part on the Road Hill murder case. Although certain facts were altered (ie: the crime was not a murder, but a theft; and splashes of paint replaced splashes of blood), the salient features remained intact (a missing nightdress, a renowned detective, a middle class household whose privacy is invaded, and the focus on a young girl within the home).

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher is a fascinating read for anyone interested in crime solving or mysteries. It will also appeal to those readers who are drawn to Victorian era literature or interested in reading more about the psychology and sociology of the nineteenth century. Summerscales’ detailed text made me eager to read some of the fictional literature she referenced.

Highly recommended. show less

Unputdownable. I thoroughly enjoyed this impeccably-researched book (published in North America as "The Suspicions of Mr Whicher: A Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective"). What initially appeared to be a historical novel is in fact a very well-written retelling of a notorious 150-year-old English child murder case, and the role played in the investigation by the then-nascent field of police detection. As the book reveals, the 1860 murder of 3-year-old Saville Kent at Road Hill House in Wiltshire sent shockwaves through British society, and went on to inspire the birth of modern detective fiction. The author did a great job of weaving together this tale of social-class privilege, crime, the law, the role of the police, show more and a thoughtful analysis of the image of the detective in literature. This is an excellent example of popular history at its best - it was passed on to me by a friend in Dublin who knew how much I'd enjoy it! Highly recommended. show less

If you have read Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone, you have encountered, in the person of Sergeant Cuff, Detective-Inspector Jonathan Whicher of Scotland Yard. In other fiction of the period, you may well have found echoes of the murder case about which Ms. Summerscale writes.

In the early hours of June 29, 1860, in the country house of Road Hill, near Trowbridge, England, a three-year-old boy named Saville Kent was spirited from his crib and murdered, his body found the next day at the bottom of the privy. When, after two weeks, the local police were, as Sherlock Holmes would have said, "baffled", they called in Scotland Yard, which sent DI Whicher. All signs suggested that the murderer must have been someone resident in the house. Then, show more on July 20, Whicher convinced the local magistrates to issue a warrant for the arrest of Constance Kent, the child's half-sister. But after a hearing to determine whether there was sufficient evidence to charge her, Constance was released. On October 1, at the behest of a solicitor who headed a commission investigating the murder, the nursemaid, Elizabeth Gough, was arrested, but the upshot was the same.

The public was fascinated by the case, and everyone fancied himself Whicher's rival in detection. Fingers pointed at the nursemaid, at the child's half-siblings, even at the child's father. Theories suggested adultery and madness. Newspapers alternately and variously supported Inspector Whicher's actions and attacked them. And it would not be until years later, with a confession, that the murder would be solved (though, even then, questions arose as to the reliability or complete truthfulness of that confession).

Why did this case arouse so much interest, so much public passion and debate and involvement? There were many reasons. The crime itself struck at the most private, protected place of an Englishman: his home. The investigation necessitated prying into a family's intimate secrets, and, worse, that prying was done into an upper-middle-class family by a man of the working class. Detectives were something new in England, and the English weren't quite sure they liked the idea.

Summerscale's great strength here is the way she interweaves the story of the murder with threads about English society in 1860. It's a fascinating story in itself, but is made far more nuanced by the way in which Summerscale relates it to the developments in England at large. I will say that I have seen at least one review of this book that complains that has "too much detail", and doesn't read sufficiently like a story. Hello? It's non-fiction, people! Frankly, I was rather impressed at how Summerscale was able to incorporate what was, in effect, a study of societal mores into the discussion of the murder case, and still make the book flow like a good novel without jettisoning scholarship.

(A note on notes: this book was extensively researched and, while endnotes are given for each chapter, Summerscale has also indicated "main sources" for groups of chapters. My one criticism of these notes is that, rather than having numbered endnotes, there are simply page references with the beginning of a sentence quoted. What's wrong with a superscript number and a corresponding endnote ((though a footnote would be preferable))? I do not understand why editors expect readers to be constantly flipping to the back of a book to see if there's a note or notes. I don't know if this is generally a choice of the author or of the editors, but I wish it would stop.) show less