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THE MURDER THAT NEVER WAS

On a cold, clear February day in 1839 two men, villagers of Powerstock stood on some old gravestones which were leaning against the wall of the parish church. From this vantage point they could see what was happening inside. They were probably better off than those whose business it was to be inside the church at that moment.

But to begin at the beginning.

A man named Hounsell who lived in a cottage which stood at the time on School Hill opposite to where the telephone box is now, had recently lost his wife. About three weeks in fact, and when he took the widow Gale to Mr Cookson the Parson and asked for the banns to be called so that the two could be wed, Mr. Cookson became suspicious. Although the widow’s late husband had been dead some six months the Parson felt all was not well.

He undertook to call the banns but when the couple left his study he changed his mind about the affair and the following Sunday, his gardener, having been paid a small sum by the Parson, stood up in church at the appropriate time and forbade the banns.

That night the two coffins were dug up and placed in the church overnight. The following morning, the Coroner from Dorchester, having been alerted by Cookson, arrived in the village together with a doctor from Beaminster and another from Bridport. The altar table was brought from the sanctuary and placed in the chancel.

The first coffin, that of the late wife of Hounsell was then put on the table and the Sexton instructed to open it. Opening a coffin in this situation was beyond his experience and he hesitated for a while until eventually, coaxed and cajoled by the Coroner he eventually had the lid off.

“Now the face cloth” said the Coroner.

More hesitation and cajoling until eventually, with his back to the coffin and feeling behind him the Sexton did as he was bid. He revealed the face of the late Mrs. Hounsell in a perfect state of preservation. “There,” said the Coroner “that wasn’t so bad was it? Now the other one.”

The Sexton, agreeing that it had not been so bad, now set about the other coffin which had been placed beside the first, with just a little more speed if not enthusiasm.

The body of the man Gale had occupied the coffin for some six months and was in an advanced state of putrefaction. When the lid was removed the stench filled the church.

As the Doctors worked they called for more light and the two villagers peering through the Chancel windows watched whilst the post-mortems were carried out by candle light.

In the nave of the Church there was a jury of twelve people and a sprinkling of other villagers who could stand the stench. As soon as the doctors had finished their gruesome task they all adjourned to the Three Horseshoes to deliberate on the findings.

The doctors stated that, in their opinion, the woman Hounsell had died of arsenic poisoning. Certain organs were to be despatched to Bristol and the jury were asked to consider a verdict. Guided by the doctors they said that obviously the woman had died of poison, probably arsenic -arsenic is a preserver of flesh - and added that Hounsell, a horse doctor by trade, used arsenic in his job.

A few days later Hounsell was arrested and put into Dorchester jail until his case came up for trial the following July. There were two murder trials that day. Hounsell’s was the second and only lasted two hours. He was acquitted on the grounds that there was no proof that he had deliberately administered arsenic to his wife and Gale had died of natural causes. Indeed, in Hounsell’s small cottage, on a shelf across the head of the bed there had been arsenic, sodium sublimate and other substances used by him. Arsenic, being a cumulative poison, could well have been absorbed by the woman over a period of time. All these items had been supplied by Horsfall the chemist who traded from Beaches shop in Bridport and was a witness at the trial together with the doctors from Bridport and Beaminster.

History does not tell us if Hounsell married the widow Gale. In fact, nothing was ever heard of him again after he left court on that July afternoon in 1839. I was never able to find out what the Bishop said. He would have had to come to Powerstock to re-consecrate the altar table, a thankless job, considering the roads of the time. On second thoughts, perhaps Cookson the parson felt that he had made a fool of himself and didn’t tell the Bishop. We don’t know but history does tell us that the church remained open and unused for three weeks until the stench had cleared away.

I have often stood in the chancel awaiting my turn at the communion rail and found myself thinking of those two men peering through the windows on that cold February day in 1839.

This incident in the village conjures up some interesting thoughts. What sort of reception did the Sexton get when he went around the village asking for volunteers to open the two graves and did Cookson’s gardener spend his bribe on Dutch courage at the Horseshoes before he stood up to forbid the banns?

The story became known as the Powerstock Double Murder Story and was spoken of in hushed tones for many years by the people of the village. The account of the story, not exactly as I have written it, was taken from the Dorset County Chronicle, 1873 and was a re-print of the story taken from the Gentlemans Magazine of 1839 entitled ‘The Desecrated Chancel’.

As a footnote to this, in 1949 an old lady died in Bridport whose name was Horsfall. She was, a& far as I know, the last of the line of that family in the town, one of whose members was the chemist who appeared at the trial of Hounsell. I still have an old cedar wood blanket box I bought for £12.00 when the household contents were sold. It has appreciated in value about ten times but it’s strange to think that I have this vague connection with the affair.