Amazing Medical Stories (4 page)

Added to the gossip that began to circulate about the couple was the rumour that Mary's unmarried aunt was living in appalling conditions. Servants reported that the pathetic woman was kept locked up in a small, closet-like, poorly heated room, and no one was allowed near her unless accompanied by one of the Thompsons. Even at a time when a terrible stigma was attached to insanity, the servants were shocked by the meagre diet they were ordered to prepare for this seemingly harmless woman.

One day, while the Thompsons were away visiting Halifax, a group of small children happened to wander into their garden. Playing near the house, they were suddenly frightened by a shrill voice calling out to them. Looking up they saw a thin, unkempt woman standing at a second floor window. Speaking with a strange accent, she repeated the same two sentences. “I am the real Mrs. Thompson. Mary is an impostor!” The woman also complained about Mary who, she claimed, was masquerading as the Colonel's wife, and she insisted that this wicked person was treating her cruelly.

This story, told by the children, prompted more speculation about the Thompsons. After all, people asked, why was Mary's harmless aunt kept a prisoner in their home? And what about her declaration that she was “the real Mrs. Thompson?” Could this possibly be true? But before anyone could actively investigate the bizarre circumstances of the mystery woman, Colonel Thompson made a significant announcement. He told his friends and neighbours that Mary's very frail aunt had passed away. According to him, she died peacefully in his arms during the early evening hours of September 20, 1846. (It was later learned that he had not been present when the woman passed away.)

Then Thompson did something that surprised many people. Although both he and Mary attended an Anglican Church, he now made arrangements for the dead woman to be buried in a Roman Catholic cemetery. Catholics who heard of his decision began to raise questions about the circumstances of the woman's death and were distressed to learn that the Thompsons had not arranged for their relative to receive the last rites, a sacred ritual for all dying Catholics.

Local authorities soon found themselves besieged by people who demanded that they investigate the woman's death. On September 29, 1846, their pleas were acknowledged, and a coroner's inquest began at Hoyne's Hotel, on Queen Street in Dartmouth. Fortunately, someone had learned that some of the army officers who had once served with Thompson were now located in Halifax. These men would certainly know whether the dead woman had been telling the truth about being the Colonel's wife. With this intriguing possibility in mind, the body was exhumed. Two local doctors performed an autopsy and reported their findings at a packed hearing. They testified that there was no evidence the woman had met a violent death. They did, however, disclose that they had seldom seen such a shocking case of malnutrition and that there was little doubt the deceased woman had suffered from an advanced case of tuberculosis.

Next, two army officers took the stand. Both stated that they had known Thompson's wife during the years when the Colonel, like themselves, had been stationed in Barbados. They identified the emaciated body as being that of their old friend, Catherine Thompson. The officers also testified that this gaunt corpse was only a shadow of the attractive woman who had lived with the Colonel during his time in the West Indies. Several days of confused and varied testimony by the Thompsons' servants did little to help the jury come to a decision. Mary, the mistress of the house, had never been known to pamper her staff and more than one former housemaid was delighted to publicly disclose some of the distasteful aspects of her employer's obnoxious personality.

Today, more than a hundred and fifty years later, the Public Archives of Nova Scotia retain the coroner's report of that hearing. For a researcher, it presents another mysterious component of this fascinating story. The faded and dog-eared document states that the woman whose death was attributed to “lack of care,” was indeed Catherine Ann Thompson. But, strangely, this name has been scratched out and, in the space above it is written: “a woman whose name is to the jurors unknown,” and the verdict issued on October 6, 1846, states that “the jurors had strong reason to believe she was the wife of Colonel Thompson, but they were unable to account for her death.”

Unfortunately, it is impossible to completely decipher the faded writing on the inquest's documents. This means that it would be a quite a challenge to determine on what basis the jury finally concluded that George Thompson and Mary should be found innocent of all charges. In the eyes of the public, the couple were criminals who had managed to avoid the justice they deserved. People felt that there were far too many questions left unanswered. For example, why had Thompson tried to prevent exhumation of the body? Why had he refused to allow any of his old army friends to visit his Dartmouth home? And how did he explain the frequent arguments he had with Mary? Servants insisted that they heard Mary demanding that he marry her.

The army officers had testified that Catherine Ann Thompson was of Spanish origin. Could this explain why some of the Thompsons' servants had mentioned that the poor woman had spoken with “a foreign accent” and that she had frequently asked for wine? Colonel Thompson insisted that his wife's “aunt” had never married, yet the doctors who examined the body were convinced that she had given birth to several children. Perhaps the most important flaw in the Colonel's testimony was his statement that his first wife had died in 1835. The army officers who knew him were baffled by this declaration since they were adamant that they had met Catherine several years after this date.

Although Thompson and Mary continued to insist they had done nothing wrong, the public at large remained convinced that the woman buried in the Roman Catholic cemetery was George Thompson's legal wife. They also believed the Thompsons were responsible for her death.

A few months later the Colonel sold his home and, with Mary, returned to England. Their departure did not end speculations about the case. Local writers, unable to rest until the truth was revealed, began to construct the true story of the dead woman who was left behind in a Dartmouth cemetery. Like amateur detectives, they searched for clues that would help them recapture some sense of Catherine Thompson's lost identity.

Catherine Ann Thompson, it is alleged, was once described as being one of the most beautiful girls on the island of Gibraltar. The daughter of a wealthy Spanish merchant and his Scottish wife, she could have had her
pick of any of the eligible officers stationed at the Spanish or English garrison. Sadly, she made the mistake of falling in love with George Thompson, a young, arrogant English ensign.

Thompson was addicted to gambling, and Catherine's sizeable dowry was impressive enough to convince him to forsake his single life. But being a bit of a scallywag, once her dowry was spent, he neglected his wife and took no interest in the children born to them. Several years after their wedding, Thompson's regiment was posted to Barbados. The posting came at a tumultuous time; the family arrived on the island during a period of widespread unrest. One night, while Thompson was away at his garrison, a new riot broke out. Hundreds of Barbadians rushed into the English section of Bridgetown. Soon houses were burning and many men, women and children became victims of mob mentality. One of the homes the rioters invaded was the Thompson family residence.

Terrified by the intrusion, Catherine had managed to hide two of her children in closets, but before she could find a hiding place for herself and her baby son, the angry mob was rushing up the stairs to the second floor. Kicking down a door, they burst into the bedroom where she was cowering. The invaders brutally tore her infant from her arms, and, as she watched in horror, they threw the child out of a window to the pavement below. When Thompson returned home, he found his wife murmuring incoherently, rocking the dead baby in her arms. The Thompsons returned to England a shattered family. Catherine was placed in a mental institution and their children sent to private schools.

The story might well have ended here except for the fact that George Thompson's regiment was later sent to Ceylon where he met a young Irish woman named Mary Taylor. The widow of a sergeant who had served in Thompson's regiment, she was only too eager to become the well-to-do colonel's housekeeper. She soon developed an intimate relationship with him. Some writers report that while the couple lived together in Ceylon, she gave birth to a child. It is known that Mary gave birth to a son while she was living in Nova Scotia.

The birth of her first child was of momentous significance to Mary. Realizing her children would have no legal claims to their father's estate as long as Catherine was alive, she decided that she must find a way to
marry George Thompson. The opportunity she was looking for came when Thompson retired from the army and was considering moving to Nova Scotia. Mary eagerly endorsed the idea. She probably suggested they take Catherine along with the excuse that, if Mary cared for her, Thompson would be able to save a great deal of money. To avoid gossip, she insisted they tell people that Catherine was her aunt.

Why did Thompson agree to her plan? Probably because he knew there was no way he could legally rid himself of Catherine, and he was tired of Mary's demands that he “do right by her.” In Nova Scotia, he did nothing to prevent Catherine's death and allowed Mary to neglect and mistreat his wife. Was Catherine murdered? It seems the nineteenth-century jury was not convinced.

Sadly, even the people who had once deplored her unnecessary death soon forgot Catherine. Ironically, across the ocean, a first cousin was enjoying the splendour of a royal court. She became the Empress Eugenie, wife of Napoleon III, and earned a permanent place in history. Catherine's fate could not have been more different. It was her destiny to witness the murder of a baby, to lose her remaining children and to suffer cruel neglect at the hands of two despicable people.

Today, all that is known about Catherine's final resting place is that her mortal remains lie in an unmarked grave somewhere in a small Dartmouth cemetery far away from her Spanish homeland and from those who once truly loved her.

Dorothy Grant

The elegantly attired Cape Breton giant towers over a companion in this formal portrait.
PUBLIC ARCHIVES OF NOVA SCOTIA

It might be something in the salt air of the province, or perhaps it is the vast amount of seafood that Bluenosers consume. Whatever the reason, nineteenth-century Nova Scotia produced some of the biggest human beings ever to live. One of these was Angus McAskill. Born in the Hebrides off the west coast of Scotland, Angus was a smallish child when his family emigrated to Englishtown on Cape Breton Island. One of thirteen children of Norman and Christina McAskill, he was unremarkable until the age of twelve when something strange happened. Young Angus began to tower over his classmates. Larger kids used to thrash him regularly in schoolyard wrestling matches. Now they started to run the other way, fast, when they saw Angus coming. He quickly gained the nickname of
gille mhor
or “big boy” in the Gaelic widely spoken in Cape Breton.

Soon Norman McAskill had to begin major renovations to his home, raising the ceilings and constructing a specially reinforced eight-foot-long bed for his young son. Angus was a gentle, patient and religious young man who usually took his share of teasing with great forbearance. One lapse is recorded, however. When he was thirteen and working as a cabin boy, he attended a dance in North Sydney. Following the nautical custom of the day, Angus was barefoot and simply chose to sit on the sidelines and enjoy the dancers and music. One prankster, however, found great amusement in repeatedly stepping on Angus's unshod toes. After the third time, Angus could take no more. He stood up and punched his tormentor in the face, sending him flying to the centre of the room, out cold. Deeply sorry afterwards, Angus successfully prayed for his victim's recovery.

Hard work on his father's farm ensured that Angus grew not only in height but in strength as well. On one occasion, a neighbour bet Norman
McAskill ten dollars he couldn't plow one of his fields by sundown. The bet looked like a certain loss when one of the horses went lame until Angus harnessed himself cheek by jowl with the remaining horse and started pulling. Father and son would likely have won the bet, too, except that Christina McAskill felt that Angus looked too undignified in the traces. Rushing from the farmhouse, her skirts in a flurry, she made him stop.

On another occasion, Norman McAskill and two other men had tried repeatedly, without success, to lift an especially heavy log onto a rack for sawing. They left in disgust, but on their return they discovered the log in its place. Young Angus claimed to have completed the task single-handedly. At first the men refused to believe him, but the lad tossed the log back into the pit, then returned it to the rack as they watched incredulously.