Lizzie Borden: A woman with her face pressed up against the window of a world she could not enter.

Transcription

1 The History & Haunting of Lizzie Borden Lizzie Borden: A woman with her face pressed up against the window of a world she could not enter. Rebecca F. Pittman November

2 The History and Haunting of Lizzie Borden 12

3 The History and Haunting of Lizzie Borden Chapter One ALL HALLOW S EVE Maplecroft. Fall River, MA. Oct 31, 1893 Come away from the window, Lizzie. The voice was tired; a melancholy resolution turning it at once into a flatline of emotion. Emma Borden looked, and felt, much older than her 43 years. A gaunt woman with sad eyes, she had endured much in the past year and three months. She had returned home from a short-lived vacation with friends to find her father and stepmother butchered their autopsied bodies packed in ice and laid out on the family dining room table. Her coveted privacy was sacrificed to the glaring spotlight of thousands of strangers gathered outside the house, and a score of policemen and newspapermen inside the house. Blood was splattered across the wallpaper and woodwork. There had been no time to grieve, as she immediately took over the care of a prostrated sister who could not face the milieu. Within moments of entering her home at 92 Second Street, Emma was immediately interviewed by the police, her private things searched through, and the mantle of responsibility etched firmly upon her furrowed brow. The tears flowed only when she was finally cosseted alone in her room at night, and the morning she wiped her father s blood from the parlor door. Lizzie! Come away from the window, Emma urged more emphatically. She glanced past her younger sister s hand holding aside the lace curtain of the south-facing sitting room window on the second floor of their new home on French Street. Outside, the 13

4 All Hallow s Eve gaslight street lamps punched ragged holes in the darkness, their soft halos of light illuminating the small shapes darting about the neighborhood trees. Candlelight flickered through the carved eyes and mouths of macabre pumpkins and gourds peering through the window glass of the mansions lining the street. It was All Hallow s Eve in Fall River, Massachusetts, and the moneyed gentry of the Hill was enjoying the merriment. A view of the Brayton house today from Lizzie s Sitting Room/Library window at Maplecroft. Photo by the Author, courtesy of Twilight Enterprises, LLC. Lizzie Borden ignored her sister s admonition. She stood, transfixed, at the window, eyes focused on the three-storied house caddy corner from hers. Carriages were arriving in front of the Brayton s home, their lanterns adding to the party atmosphere, as revelers in fancy dress spilled from their open doors. Their laughter carried on the night air, tightening the knot in the voyeur s stomach, until the familiar feeling of panic pulsed in Lizzie s head. Several of the party-goers turned to stare over at the house across the street, its turret, topped with a conical witch s hat roof, seeming ironically suitable to its inmate. That s Lizzie Borden s house, 14

5 The History & Haunting of Lizzie Borden they said in excited whispers, and then, seeing the silhouette at the upper window turned and hurried up the sidewalk to the party. Emma pulled her from the window, a familiar feeling of dread sweeping over her. They had only been living at 7 French Street for a little under two months. She had hoped the new furnishings and prestigious address would give her sister the peace that had eluded her at their father s home on Second Street. Yet Lizzie had continued to complain as she watched neighbor after neighbor pass their front door without stopping to welcome the sisters to their private enclave. There were no calling cards left on the silver tray waiting expectantly by the front door, no flowers, pastries, or invitations. Though the neighbors peered at the gabled structure from beneath parasols and whispered to each other from behind gloved hands, they passed them by. The arrival of bands of curious onlookers began occurring from the moment the ubiquitous newspapers announced the Borden sisters purchase of the home on the Hill, Fall River s most elite setting, and the addresses of the Who s Who of that New England hamlet. It sat looking down, both geographically and figuratively, on a city built upon the backs of cotton mill workers. People walked by, drove by, even stood, unabashedly pointing at the Borden sisters new house, with varied looks of awe, bewilderment, and fear. Only a few days earlier two families had moved into the newlyremodeled Andrew J. Borden home at 92 Second Street where the double murders had taken place. Lizzie and Emma had seen to the alterations. The fireplace in Lizzie s bedroom was, at some point, walled over. Perhaps, Lizzie had seen to it. Louis Hall, the owner of the livery stable across the street from the Borden house; and William B. Peckham (a grocer), his wife and three daughters, unpacked their boxes, moved into the two newly-created living spaces, and became Lizzie and Emma s first tenants. For both men, it was a pragmatic move, placing them within walking distance of their businesses. Whether they grew accustomed to the ongoing spectators gawking at the infamous murder house, is unknown. Both men had witnessed the harrowing events played out there on August 4, Did they walk with trepidation through the hallways, and double check all those locks? 15

6 All Hallow s Eve Did innocent shadows, caught from the corner of their eyes, cause their nerves to twitch? To add to the circus-like atmosphere that had ridden into the Hill, along with the Borden sisters moving carts, came hacks carrying drummers from out of town. For a few coins extra, the traveling salesmen could pay a rented carriage driver to carry them by the house on French Street and hear a Penny Dreadful retelling of the murders of Andrew and Abby Borden. Yes Sir, Gents! There she sits Lizzie Borden. She was acquitted of the crimes, but there are tongues still wagging somewhat knows that says maybe someone got away with murder. The eyes would then dutifully follow the outline of windows, hoping for a glimpse of the infamous woman about whom they had read so much. After a few minutes of hedonism, the driver would continue, Next up, over on High Street, we ll see the home of Alfred D. Butterworth. Mr. Butterworth hung himself from a tree in a field only four months before the Borden murders, leaving behind a wife and family. Maybe money don t buy happiness, gents. The newspaper headlines and dubious celebrity of their newest neighbor brought the Borden sisters few fans from the addresses surrounding them. The increased traffic, both by foot and buggy, was an unwelcome invasion among the manicured lawns and pristine Victorian homes. The sound of thuds against the siding of the house suddenly sounded from below. Emma and Lizzie hastened to windows; one overlooking the east side of the house, the other looking to the front. Lizzie saw the small figures of several children darting across the street from her side yard. They were dressed in makeshift costumes most appearing to be oversized castoffs from their parents closets. Long, flapping coat sleeves and trailing dresses flitted about in the October night. Annie E. Smith, the Borden sisters 29-year-old maid, appeared at the entrance to the upstairs sitting room. Miss Borden, she said, directing her statement to Emma, there is boys and girls outside pelting the house with eggs. Do you want me to tell Joseph to run em off? 16