Miss Worth

[lynn cates]

symmetry

Hello All. Here is the rest of the street in 1888. I presume that ALL the residents refrained from throwing stones (heh-heh).

(Same generous donor.)

(Tea time nearly over, one more lecture--once more into the breach dear friends.)

Cheers.
LC

[lynn cates]

H Llewellyn-Winter

Hello All. It seems that Miss Worth had a case manager named Dawson. Of course, that was merely his code name--real name, H. Llewellyn-Winter. Seems this gentleman was a bass singer. Any information on his antecedents/connections would be much appreciated.

We know that Monro was after him and that Sir Edward J. tipped him off, allowing him to flee to Paris in summer 1886. It is not clear whether Miss Worth accompanied him.

The snippet is from "Brief" December 1, 1877.

Cheers.
LC

[lynn cates]

Augener

Hello All. I was curious about "Dawson's" company, Augener. My first hit? Primrose League, what else?

Snippet is from "Primrose Leage Gazette" May 5, 1888. (Note change of address for Augeners.)

Cheers.
LC

[lynn cates]

Winter

Hello All. The following snippet involves Winter (Dawson). Anyone know about the quack doctor?

(Generously donated by Simon Wood.)

Cheers.
LC

Recollections and Reflections, by Henry Martyn Hart, D.D., LL.D, 1917

"There is in the same book a "Short Kyrie" by Winter; this musician was the most remarkable man I ever came across. I am justified in this large statement by the fact that when one of our most prominent citizens, on a visit to London, went to Scotland Yard to investigate their detective system, as he was being shown a drawer full of divisions containing cards, and it was being explained that this was practically a card index of men who were "wanted" he was asked, if he did not say he came from Denver?

"This bundle of cards refer to a man who was in Denver, who called himself Winter. He is the most astute criminal who ever came under our observation. At present he is in Paris; we can put our hand on him when we choose, but not wanting to go through the trouble of an extradition process, we are waiting until he should come over here."

They well described him as "astute" for at that very time, he was engaged in the governmental secret service, under their nose. They did arrest him finally when he was stage manager of the Garrick Theatre by the name of Harry Montague. I may well therefore speak of him as the most notorious musician I have ever known . . ."

" . . . In 1877 Mr. Winter was installed as our organist and choir-master in Blackheath. He was artistic, energetic, a fine bass and a very capable conductor. At once the service responded to the hand of a master. He represented that he had so many interests in London, that he could only give us from Friday to Monday. He had fascinated, as he was adept at doing, a young couple who for the interest of his visit were glad to have him for their weekly guest. He inaugurated a choral society. They produced "Pinafore" and gave concerts and musical evenings. Indeed, he was a very center of energy.

The astonishing thing is, that for two years he escaped every suspicion. Now that I look back at the partial view I have of his career, I think the tricks he played, the false positions he assumed, the thefts he committed, he perpetrated for the very zest of doing them so cleverly as not to be found out.

To aid and abet him in his transformations he had the power of changing the look of his face. He could assume the appearance of grave sickness without the opportunity of "making up." I am told some actors have the power of altering their faces in keeping with the part they are playing, but as I have never seen a play in a theatre, I must leave others to verify this.

When Winter was finally caught and sent to prison for perjury, Mr. Pembroke, my churchwarden, the well-known shipowner, in whose house he had lived, and with whom he was intimate as with his own sons, was subpoenaed to identify him. But when Winter stood in the dock, at Bow Street and Mr. Pembroke was asked if he recognized the prisoner as Winter, he was unable to do so, and said, "If you will make him speak I will tell you," but Winter would not speak and remained incognito.

The day after the Princess Alice, a Thames steamer full of Sunday School children went down, Winter appeared in my study. He looked blanched, his face was drawn, and his left arm in an ample sling. "Why, Mr. Winter, what is the matter with you?' "I was in the Princess Alice, yesterday," he replied, "she smashed like a match-box." "And what did you do?" "I jumped overboard and hit my right arm against a floating spar." it afterwards transpired that he was ten miles away at the time, teaching in a ladies' school.

I have sometimes wondered if he was not afflicted with hysteria; a singular disease which drives its victim to do the most risky things to elicit that sympathy for which the hysteric craves more desperately than does the toper for his dram.

But there was sometimes "a method in his madness." One Sunday I noticed that at the last verse of the hymn before the sermon, the notes of the organ were thin and few. I could see the organ console in the South Transept from the pulpit, and as I turned to give the ascription, I saw Winter fall over on to the organ stool in a fit. Being a suburb of London many wellknown physicians worshipped with us. No less a person than the President of the College of Physicians went to the sick man's side. He lay without making any noise through the sermon and as I turned at the close and the congregation rose, I saw his surpliced arm tremblingly stretch out and touch the note for the choir Amen.

After service the great doctor came into the vestry, "Mr. Hart, your organist has had an epileptic fit, he appears to be over-worked, he ought to have a rest." I turned round to the churchwarden, who was counting the offertory, "Pembroke," I said, "have you no ship sailing this week?" He thought for a moment, "Why yes, the Mary Ann sails for Odessa on Tuesday.'' "Will you get the captain to take Winter with him?" And so he did.

What had happened was, that Winter's many creditors had closed in upon him and he was on the verge of arrest; he had carefully studied the symptoms of epilepsy and so cleverly simulated them that he had deceived so capable a man as the eminent physician. He disappeared from London for six weeks, and before he returned the anger of his creditors had cooled down and they had given up the search.

He was a proficient French scholar, and induced two young men to take a trip on their bicycles through Holland. Winter kept the common purse.

So pleasant and successful was their holiday, that next year the two young fellows with another friend re-traversed the route. Then they found that their individual bills were just a third less than before. Winter had added a third to each account and so franking himself, doubtless justifying his graft by considering his services as a courier were worth the money.

A month or two before I came to Denver, Winter called upon me looking downcast and dejected; he said he had received a great blow; that his brother on his death-bed had confessed that he was the father of Mrs. Winter's two children. Winter said that all he could do under the circumstances was to divorce his wife, and, he added, "you will conclude that what I say is true from the fact that the suit will not be contested."

It afterwards transpired that the only brother he ever had died when he was six years old. By a series of clever manoeuvres, he did actually get a decree nisi in Lord Hannen's court, and his wife was for six years unaware of the fact that she had been divorced.

Thirteen years afterwards, for his many perjuries, he received in the Central Criminal Court, a sentence of six years' penal servitude. The Counsel for the prosecution said, "that seldom had a grosser deception been practiced on a Court of justice." While he was carrying out his design he looked about him for another partner of his fortunes. He became acquainted with a retired London merchant at Bromley, a widower with two daughters. The elder Miss Wright was a capital pianist, and one evening, as pianists sometimes do, she took off her rings and bracelets as she played. She had a handsome solitaire diamond set in black enamel; that ring Winter put in his pocket. At the close of the evening, he even took the piano to pieces, in a vain effort to find it. Next morning he showed the ring to his hostess at Blackheath, saying that Miss Wright, who had worn it as a mourning ring for her mother, wished it now set in plain gold.

It happened that year that I revisited Blackheath, and passing through the village, the jeweler accosted me, and asked me if I knew where Mr. Winter was? "Yes, he is in Denver," I replied; "Does he owe you anything? "Yes, Sir, he has with us a small account," and turning into his shop he showed me his ledger, and pointing to seven shillings and sixpence on the credit side, he volunteered the information that he brought a diamond ring to be re-set in plain gold; and they credited him with seven shilling and sixpence for the black enamel setting.

Winter utilized the newly made ring as the bond of his engagement to the younger Miss Wright; but before further mischief accrued some of his character was divulged, and he was forbidden the house.

If the plaintiffs suit is successful in an English divorce court, the judge pronounces the decree "nisi," that is, "unless" the King's proctor intervenes, then at the expiration of six months the decree becomes "absolute." It was within this six months that Winter secured a singing engagement at the Welsh seaport of Llandudno. Here he became acquainted with a distinguished looking lady, the widow of a Liverpool merchant with two handsome children and some independent means.

With the vigor and astuteness of most of his proceedings he hurried her off to Bangor Cathedral and married her. But the English law does not look with favor upon bigamists, and finding certain investigations were being instituted, having obtained his decree "absolute" he remarried Mrs. Winter in London; but this did not condone his previous offense, and finding the officers of the law upon his track, he crossed the Atlantic to New York at that very moment I was most in need of him.

In my experience I have only known two organists who were geniuses. I define a genius to be a person who is capable of transferring his sentiments through his work. It is an unexplainable fact that two organists may play the same composition even with the same arrangement of stops, the one will move you and "make trickles go down your back," the other awakens no thrilling sensation; the one is a genius, the other possesses only the gift of perseverance.

Arthur W. Marchant, whom I brought with me, was a genius. His anthems, especially his Magnificat, are widely sung. He was a Mus. Bac. Oxon. of which degree he was very naturally proud, and occasionally, to emphasize his authority in musical matters, he paraded his distinction.

But what did the "wild and woolly West" in those days care for a degree? The paper said, to his great angerment, "He must B an Oxon." Magnificent organist though he was, he was helpless as a choir-master. In my necessity I thought of Winter, and wrote to him to ask him to come over and help us. My letter found him in New York, which he professed to believe was a special mark of God's leading, for he said he had been induced to write a medical work for a doctor whom he had discovered to be a quack, and had therefore thrown up his contract, and was wondering what he should do when my letter called him to Denver.

When he arrived, as usual, he took everybody by storm, and agreed to return to England, wind up his affairs and come back to reside. The son of Mr. Killick, the Rector of St. Clement, Danes, in the Strand, had lately died of typhoid fever. His two little children, we had taken into the Deanery until some means should oiler of sending them, with an escort, to England, to their grandparents. Winter, at cnce proposed to take them. The ladies were all enchanted; passes, for those were the palmy days of liberal railroad travel, and every conceivable thing was provided for the journey.

It afterwards transpired that he sold everything that was at all superfluous, even to their trinkets of jewelry at Chicago. But he delivered the two little ones safely to their grandmother, who was waiting for them at Liverpool, and then cabled to the railroad magnate, who supplied the passes, for a loan of fifty pounds.

In due time he arrived with his wife and her two beautiful children and at once placed the choir on a basis it has ever since proceeded upon with marked success. I instructed him to find in England an organist to his liking, which he did, borrowing of him two hundred pounds, which of course, he never returned.

The first Sunday the choir appeared in the vestry, Winter was adorned with a magnificent hood. I said, "What have you got on?" "Oh!" he replied, "This is the hood of the Licentiates of Trinity College, London. I was a Choral Fellow and when we amalgamated with Trinity College, they took us in as Licentiates."

After service I enquired more about the hood. He then said that if I preferred it he would wear a Cambridge hood. I said, "I never knew you were a Cambridge man." "Whv. all your masters knew it," he said. "What college were you at?" "Trinity," he replied. "When did you take your degree?" "In 1874, he asserted. By that mail I wrote two letters, one to a pupil of mine in Cambridge, asking him to find out if A. L. Winter did take his degree in 1874, and what kind of a man he was. The other letter was to Dr. Bonavia Hunt, who was Warden of Trinity College, London, and indeed its creator, asking him if the Choral Fellows were received by them as Licentiates? Mr. Marchant had preserved bound volumes of the Musical Times, in one of which was a printed list of the Licentiates of Trinity College.

Winter's name was not among them. After showing me this he left the book on the music shelf at the organ. A few days afterwards he found that the page had been carefully torn out. Of course I knew Winter had done it, and so I told him, when he instantly replied, "I can give you fourteen reasons why I shouldn't tear it out." "And by that very token," I said, "it is clear that you did."

By the next mail I received answers to my inquiries. There was a Winter who had graduated from Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1874, but he was a tall man with light hair and a noted cricketer, whereas "the Winter of our discontent" was a short man with dark hair, not given to cricket.

Dr. Hunt replied that the Choral Fellows were taken in as Associates and not as the higher grade of Licentiates; therefore Winter had no right to wear the hood. When I confronted him with these facts he shrugged his shoulders and said, "N'importe, what shall I do?" I said, "You may wear the hood of the Choral Fellows, black serge with purple lining."

Next Sunday when he appeared with the choir, I didn't know him; he had close cropped his hair and turned up his mustache, a la Kaiser; this so altered his appearance, that all the eyes were turned on his head and no one noticed the change on his back. It is unnecessary to say that it was impossible to retain his services, and in the course of some months we let him depart, not before, however, his wife presented him with a daughter, on the night of Madam Christine Nilsson's concert, whom he induced to be the godmother, and honored me with being the godfather.

After he left here he went to live in Paris, where Mrs. Winter died and he administered the estate. Directly, or indirectly, he must have been the cause of her death. Her two children disappeared, probably relegated to a French orphanage.

Now, here was a man who had lived for years in "the odor of anetity," "a regular communicant," according to the Churchly description. To all outward appearance he was a most reputable member of society, and yet, he was a bundle of deception, and his chief delight was in contriving circumstances either to gratify his vanity or enhance his notoriety.

He left his mark in a widely used music book, Hutchins' Chant and Service Book, and whenever we sing that Lesser Kyrie, No. 369, I ever put in a prayer for his soul, that the Lord will have mercy upon him, for it seems to me that he was possessed of a very demon."

[lynn cates]

Winter time

Hello All. Here are some more details about Winter. (Graciously provided by Simon Wood.)

"Henry Llewellyn Winter [age 20] married Henrietta Jones [age 31] on 30th March 1872. He filed a divorce petition on 14th October 1880. In June 1881 Winter went to Llandudo, North Wales, on a professional music engagement, and on 23rd July, using the name Arthur Henry Winter, bigamously married wealthy widow Emily Gertrude Roberts at Bangor Cathedral [BMD Sep. Quarter]. In August 1881 Winter was back in Streatham [South London] living with his first wife, Henrietta, and their children. Three months later, on 8th November 1881, his divorce from Henrietta [about which she knew nothing until spoken to by Inspector Littlechild in 1886 – LWN, 19th August 1894] became absolute. Winter was now legally single, and on 19th November 1881 remarried Emily Gertrude Roberts in London, this time using his real name [BMD Dec. Quarter].

[Note. Christy Campbell tells us that Inspector Littlechild discovered the Bangor wedding had taken place "two years before" (1884)].

Immediately after his second marriage to Emily, Winter went to New York, from where he sent her £5 per month. He traveled on to Colorado, becoming organist and preceptor at Denver cathedral at the invitation of Dean Hart, and later Emily received a newspaper cutting stating that Arthur Winter [the name he'd used to marry her at Bangor], an organist, had committed suicide. Emily didn't believe it. She kept writing until 1885 but all her letters were returned through the dead-letter office. Soon after 1885 it was believed that Winter had returned to London.

James Monro revealed in his 1903 memoir that police investigations had discovered that Jenkinson employed as his "spymaster" a man called Llewellyn Hunter. Hunter had recruited in turn several Irishmen to carry out covert observations on their countrymen in London. The matter was raised by the Commissioner, Sir Charles Warren, with the incumbent Home Secretary (Childers). Warren made much of the fact that a warrant existed for the arrest of Hunter for perjury, arising out his alleged bigamous marriage. Jenkinson was also present at the meeting and very soon afterwards Hunter aka Winter fled the country. Monro had no doubts that Jenkinson had informed him of the imminent police action [Clutterbuck thesis]. This incident is undated, but we can place it between 6th February and 25th July 1886, the brief span of Hugh Childers' Home Secretaryship. Henry Matthews took over on 3rd August 1886.

In 1886 a warrant was obtained for the arrest of Winter, but he had fled to Paris with Emily and was beyond jurisdiction. Extradition was demanded, but it was refused because, under Article 11 of the old treaty with France, any large lapse of time in France would excuse a person guilty of perjury in a civil suit, three years being the utmost time in which a man could be tried in France [The Times].

On 21st February 1888 Emily Winter died in Paris. Henry Winter later returned to London, and from late 1893 until early 1894 was employed under the name of Harry Montague as stage manager at Daly's Theatre. Later in 1894 he enjoyed a brief stint as stage manager at the Garrick Theatre. This was when it was revealed that Harry Montague was Henry Winter and he was finally taken into custody to face charges of perjury. In November 1894 he was sentenced to seven years imprisonment."

Cheers.
LC

[Phil Carter]

More on Llewellyn Winter

Hello Lynn,

With indeed thanks to both yourself and Simon, I believe I may be able to add a tiny addition to the story of Winter.

According to Clutterbuck in his thesis An Accident of History, he states that ex-Detective Sergeant Patrick MacIntyre in the article of May 5th, 1895, for Reynolds Newspaper, page 3, tells of "some twenty men and two or three women were employed by a man called "Winter", ostensibly as porters, but in reality for the tracing of the perpetrators of the dynamite outrages"

MacIntyre also states that the men working for Jenkinson and Winter were paid well, and mostof them, perhaps all, had joined the National League.

Clutterbuck then writes...

According to Maclntyre, this incident finally led to Jenkinson's departure from the Home Office. A search of the Chief Constables CID register reveals several references to "Winter" or "Llewellyn Winter", thus helping to underpin the accuracy of at least one aspect of Monro's and Maclntyre's respective accounts.

Hope this is some additional interest.

best wishes

Phil

[Phil Carter]

Hello all,

Here is the one line extract re. Llewellyn Winter's birth registration..dated Ist Quarter 1852., West London. Note the spelling of the name with an "i" and not a "y".

[Phil Carter]

Hello all,

The marraige to Henrietta Augusta V Jones Ist Quarter 1872, Wandsworth is strangely also registered in 2nd Quarter 1872, Wandsworth.

Marriages Mar 1872
Winter Henry Llewellin Wandsworth 1d 679
Marriages Jun 1872
Winter Henry Llewellin Wandsworth 1d 825

as is Henrietta

Marriages Mar 1872
Jones Henrietta Augusta V Wandsworth 1d 679
Marriages Jun 1872
JONES Henrietta Augusta V Wandsworth 1d 825

Even stranger, both his names are listed in the registers for his 1881 marraige...

Surname First name(s) Age District Vol Page
Marriages Dec 1881
ROBERTS Emily Gertrude London C. 1c 77
Wilson Isabella Margaret London City 1c 77
Winter Arthur Henry London City 1c 77
Winter Henry Llewellin London City 1c 77

I also found a birth and death registration of Henrietta Augusta V Jones/Winter.


Births Dec 1839
Jones Henrietta Augusta Victoria Sheppey 5 402

Deaths Mar 1910
Winter Henrietta Augusta V aged 70 Lewisham 1d 616

best wishes

Phil

[lynn cates]

listless fellow

Hello Phil. Thanks for this. Yes, it does help.

And I leave it to you to figure out why I'd pay good money to discover that list of names. Alas, it seems that only Winter, Worth, Jenkinson and Monro saw it.

I suppose that leaves me a listless fellow? (heh-heh)

Cheers.
LC

[lynn cates]

double vision

Hello Phil. In the first, I presume they were not adept with Welsh names.

In the second, not so strange when one is dealing with the likes of Winter/Hunter/Dawson. Such offbeat and shadowy figures are grist for the mill of people like Jenkinson.

Say, with all those "doubles"--listings, names, wives, etc.--he would be a perfect double agent. (heh-heh)

Cheers.
LC