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CRIME FILES

Agatha Christie
and the Guilty Pleasure
of Poison

Sylvia A. Pamboukian
 Crime Files

Series Editor
Clive Bloom
Middlesex University
London, UK
Since its invention in the nineteenth century, detective fiction has never
been more popular. In novels, short stories and films, on the radio, on
television and now in computer games, private detectives and psychopaths,
poisoners and overworked cops, tommy gun gangsters and cocaine
criminals are the very stuff of modern imagination, and their creators a
mainstay of popular consciousness. Crime Files is a ground-breaking series
offering scholars, students and discerning readers a comprehensive set of
guides to the world of crime and detective fiction. Every aspect of crime
writing, from detective fiction to the gangster movie, true-crime exposé,
police procedural and post-colonial investigation, is explored through
clear and informative texts offering comprehensive coverage and theoreti-
cal sophistication.
 Sylvia A. Pamboukian

Agatha Christie and

the Guilty Pleasure of
Poison
Sylvia A. Pamboukian
Arts and Humanities
Robert Morris University
Moon Township, PA, USA

ISSN 2947-8340     ISSN 2947-8359 (electronic)

Crime Files
ISBN 978-3-031-15999-2    ISBN 978-3-031-16000-4 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16000-4

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
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Literary scholars study the past but hope to shape the future. This book is
dedicated to young people whose hope, talent, and energy will, I am sure,
create a better future, and especially to Alina, Emily, Ava, and Auden.
 Preface

When I was a pharmacy student, there was an apothecaries’ garden near

my college where I used to loiter and read detective novels instead of
studying my textbooks. Although such gardens are now oases of tranquility,
they were once places of work where medicinal plants were grown and
tended. Today, some of the plants in the apothecaries’ garden are just food
(such as chamomile, mint, and fennel), while others remain the raw
material of medicine (such as vinca, ephedra, and foxglove). Still others are
called poisons (such as hemlock and deadly nightshade). In fact, some
apothecaries’ gardens call themselves poison gardens to emphasize the dan-
gerous side of pharmaceutically active plants.
In 2015, I had the opportunity to visit several apothecaries’/poison
gardens in the USA, Canada, and Britain. These visits clarified something
that I had long suspected—visitors to apothecaries’ gardens are often not
drawn there by a desire to learn about historical medical practices. They
are drawn by a desire to hear thrilling real-life stories about horrible
accidental poisonings and juicy criminal poisonings (just like those in
detective novels). When a customs agent at London’s Heathrow airport
asked me about the purpose of my visit to the UK, I said that I was visiting
poison gardens, and he eagerly supplied me with several poisoning stories,
including one about a man who passed out due to inhaling fresh-cut yew
branches and one about a woman who put poison in her cheating
boyfriend’s dinner. Apparently, everyone loves a good poisoning story.
This book explores the attractive power of poison—that sense of
curiosity and even naughtiness that draws visitors to poison gardens,
detective readers to books about criminal poisoning, and most of us

vii
viii PREFACE

(including my customs agent) to gossip about domestic poisoning. Instead

of arguing that poisoning is a terrible crime (which, of course, it is), the
book examines this sense of attraction to poisoning stories and to poisons.
I have long been a fan of Agatha Christie, who herself worked in a
pharmacy and whose books feature a dazzling array of poisons as murder
weapons. While most of Christie’s books present murder as a terrible
crime (which, of course, it is), I noticed that some of them display the
same attraction to poison. In these books, poisoners, especially women
poisoners, are a kind of likeable criminal, a good outlaw, whose crimes
make her community (and readers at home) cheer for her rather than
hiss at her.
Once I noticed the likeable poisoners in Christie’s novels, I began to
see likeable poisoners everywhere, in films, TV shows, and streaming
entertainment where certain poisonings were fantasies of justice, power,
and revenge. Quite a few of these seemed to me to echo other elements of
Christie’s works, too. So, this book starts with Agatha Christie and her
experience with poisons as a pharmacy technician. It then works outward—
first to her contemporaries (Arthur Conan Doyle, Dorothy L. Sayers, and
Shirley Jackson) and then to more recent media that echo elements of
Christie’s work. It ends in the poison garden, where the whole project
really began.
Because poison gardens and detective fiction are supposed to be fun,
the book is written to be as readable as an academic study can be. In
addition, each chapter lists the spoilers up front. Details from books not
listed in the spoilers are part of the setup of the mystery, so these details
should not spoil the reading experience. I hope that readers of this book
will discover new mystery novels to enjoy, new films or series to binge-­
watch, new tourist destinations to visit, and perhaps new reasons to revisit
old favorites. I hope they will leave with a richer view of poisons, poisoners,
outlaws, and storytelling.

Moon Township, PA Sylvia A. Pamboukian

 Acknowledgments

This project began with visits to medicinal and poison gardens, whose staff
were very generous with their time and knowledge. I would like to thank
the Niagara Botanical Gardens and School of Horticulture in Niagara,
Ontario, particularly Jessica Bond and Charles Hunter; the Medicinal
Garden at the Phipps Conservatory in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, particu-
larly Claire Dusak; the Chelsea Physic Garden in London, England; the
Torre Abbey House and Garden in Torquay, Devon, particularly Alison
Marshall; and The Poison Garden at Alnwick Castle in Northumberland,
particularly Alex Wright and Trevor Jones. I would like to thank the Duke
and Duchess of Northumberland for welcoming me into their beautiful
home and gardens.
The book might not have been written without research support from
Robert Morris University and the support of colleagues Heather Pinson,
Connie Ruzich, Ed Karshner, John Lawson, Jen Beno-Young, Emily
Paladino, Jackie Klentzin, Sushma Mishra, and Petros and Anahit
Malakyan. Similarly, I would like to thank John Erlen at the Falk Library
of the Health Sciences, University of Pittsburgh, and Charlotte Tancin
and Jeannette McDevitt at the Hunt Institute for Botanical Documentation,
Carnegie Mellon University. I thank Janet Payne at the Society of
Apothecaries of London for kindly photographing archival material that
was important in the chapter on Christie and pharmacy. In addition, I
would like to thank Alison Graham-Bertolini, Alistair Rolls, and Steve
McClean as well as the reviewers and editors at Palgrave Macmillan.
Similar content on The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side was published
in the article “In the Apothecaries’ Garden with Agatha Christie” in Clues:

ix
x ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A Journal of Detection, Vol. 34, No. 1, 2016, pp. 72–81, by McFarland

and Company, Inc, publishers. As well, material on likable poisoners in
children’s literature appeared in “Sugar and Spice: Cooking with the Girl
Poisoner” in Food, Feminisms, Rhetorics edited by Melissa Goldthwaite
from Southern Illinois University Press and in “Fun and Games: the Joy
of Poisoning in Children’s Literature” in Poison and Poisoning in Science,
Fiction and Cinema: Precarious Identities edited by Heike Klippel, Bettina
Wahrig, and Anke Zechner from Palgrave Studies in Science and Popular
Culture, Palgrave Macmillan. While the latter two articles analyze different
texts than those in this book, the editors of these collections were
enormously helpful in developing my ideas on likeable poisoners.
Several scholarly presentations were also helpful in developing this
book, including “Agatha Christie and the Poison Garden” at the
C.F. Reynolds Medical History Society; “From The Speckled Band to the
Poison Garden” at the American Osler Society conference; “The Outlaw
Poisoner in Arthur Conan Doyle’s ‘The Leather Funnel’” at the North
American Victorian Studies Association conference; “The Poisonous
Medicine Cabinet of Agatha Christie” and “The Snake Oil in the Grass:
Public Medicinal and Poison Gardens,” both at Northeast Modern
Language Association conferences. Many thanks to those who attended
these panels and asked questions or offered suggestions.
Finally, I would like to thank my family and friends for their support.
Thank you to Andrea for visiting poison gardens in the UK with me, and
to Shannon for visiting Niagara with me. Finally, I would like to thank Jon
for remaining stalwart through the ups and downs, comings and goings of
this project: thy firmness makes my circle just, and makes me end where
I began.
 Praise for Agatha Christie and the Guilty Pleasure
of Poison

“Sylvia Pamboukian strays from the well-trodden paths of Agatha Christie studies,
and the result is very satisfying. Pamboukian remains gentle in her treatment of her
readers, treading a judicious path between the didactic and the well-paced.”
—Alistair Rolls, Associate Professor of French Studies at the University of
Newcastle, Australia, and author of Agatha Christie and New Directions
in Reading Detective Fiction Narratology and Detective Criticism

“In Agatha Christie and the Guilty Pleasure of Poison, Sylvia Pamboukian provides
a timely reassessment of the works of Agatha Christie. Pamboukian reveals how, far
from being conservative and formulaic, Christie’s fiction contains a subversive
potential located in the author’s reimagining of the female outlaw poisoner.
Drawing on documentary evidence, this fluently written study shows how
Christie’s pharmaceutical training grants verisimilitude to her depiction of
poison….”
—Steven McLean, Department of English Literature and Culture, Hankuk
University of Foreign Studies

“Agatha Christie and the Guilty Pleasure of Poison by Sylvia Pamboukian is a pro-
vocative and carefully researched book about female poisoners in contemporary
detective fiction with a focus on the work of Agatha Christie. Pamboukian deftly dem-
onstrates that female poisoners are part of a pattern of female justice-driven retri-
bution in fiction that has been largely overlooked. This important book thus
revitalizes conversations surrounding women’s empowerment by repositioning
some of the many female poisoners found in detective fiction as justice-seeking
rather than as simple or spiteful mediums of revenge. Readers of detective fiction,
especially those who study Agatha Christie, and readers interested in feminism and
strong women protagonists will value the well-written insights and discerning
close readings within [this book].”
—Alison Graham Bertolini, Associate Professor of English and Women’s Studies
Director of Graduate Studies in English North Dakota State University
 Contents

1 Agatha Christie, Poison, and Crime  1

2 Agatha Christie and Pharmacy 39

3 Dying Game: Unrepentant Outlaws in Christie and Doyle 69

4 Cheering Bystanders in Christie and Sayers101

5 The Revenger’s Comeuppance in Christie and Jackson127

6 The Poisoner’s Afterlives151

7 Readers and the Poison Garden185

Index215

xiii
 About the Author

Sylvia A. Pamboukian Formerly a pharmacist, Pamboukian is Professor

of English at Robert Morris University near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She
is the author of Doctoring the Novel: Medicine and Quackery from Shelley to
Doyle, and her research and teaching interests include British literature,
detective fiction, the Victorian Gothic, and the health humanities.

xv
 CHAPTER 1

Agatha Christie, Poison, and Crime

As the story goes, Sir Winston Churchill was once at a dinner party with
rival politician Lady Nancy Astor when he lit one of his famous cigars.
Nancy Astor was revolted and said sharply, “If I were your wife, I’d poison
your coffee.” Not to be outdone, Winston Churchill shot back, “Madam,
if you were my wife, I’d drink it” (“Wit” 2006). This incident may be one
of those stories that are too good to be true. In fact, some deny it ever
happened (Raynor 2014). But it has been told and retold for decades as a
classic moment in the battle-of-the-sexes. There must be something in this
story that resonates with readers, that makes us laugh at Nancy Astor’s
implication that one might enjoy poisoning an annoying spouse or at
Winston Churchill’s implication that poisoning is preferable to marriage
with a controlling partner. Seen in one light, this story could strike us as a
gross violation of the trust we place in our most intimate friends and fam-
ily never to hurt us under the guise of helping. Never, as they say, to betray
us with a kiss. In another light, this story is a delightful mixture of domes-
tic strife, retaliation, and poisoning. Why? Why do we enjoy stories about
poisoning, marriage, and revenge?

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2022
S. A. Pamboukian, Agatha Christie and the Guilty Pleasure of
Poison, Crime Files,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16000-4_1
2 S. A. PAMBOUKIAN

Poison and the Precarious Identity

For many people, the word poison conjures up cartoonish images of vials
marked with the skull-and-crossbones containing toxic green liquid that
emits smoke and melts spoons on contact. However, poisons are not
utterly toxic entities concocted in secret laboratories by mad scientists. In
medicine, a poison is any substance that causes “structural damage” or
“functional disturbance” in relatively small quantities.1 The substance may
be produced internally (like the carbon dioxide we exhale with every
breath) or externally (like the poison Lady Astor threatens to put in Sir
Winston’s coffee). It may be natural (like ricin or cyanide) or artificial (like
VX or sarin). Moreover, the same substance may act as both medicine and
poison. As alchemist Paracelsus aptly said, “All substances are poisons…The
right dose differentiates a poison from a remedy” (qtd. in Timbrell 2005,
2). To put it another way, the dose makes the poison. While one aspirin
may stave off a heart attack, a whole bottleful may lead to some undesir-
able consequences. Scholars Klippel et al. (2017) describe poison’s diffi-
cult-to-pin-down nature as a “precarious identity” (2). This precariousness
is easily seen in a number of commonly enjoyed foods: rhubarb (the leaves
are poisonous); peaches, pears, and apricots (the pits are poisonous); taro
and cassava (poisonous if eaten raw); and ackee and potatoes (poisonous if
eaten overripe or underripe). Our relationship with food has been called
the “omnivore’s paradox” because our fear of harm through food is always
in tension with the pleasure food provides us (Beardsworth and Keil 1997,
152). As Beardsworth and Keil (1997) describe, all animals eat but only
humans ponder the meaning of food: natural or unnatural, safe or tainted,
healthy or unhealthy, proper meal or naughty indulgence (168). For many,
food’s delicious taste, satisfying texture, and appetizing appearance are
sources of entertainment. But entertainment also derives from foods
known to be poisonous, such as fugu or puffer fish (Satin 2007, 203).
Since chefs who prepare this dish are carefully trained, diners are unlikely
to be poisoned, but the thrill of being near poison is clearly part of the fun
of eating fugu. Perhaps the thrill of being near poison (but not poisoned)
begins to explain some of our desire to hear a story about poisoned coffee
while we comfortably sip our own (presumably safe) beverage.
If poison has a precarious identity, Klippel, Wahrig, and Zechner con-
sider the poisoner to have a similarly precarious identity. Poisoners in

1
Dorland’s Pocket Medical Dictionary. 24th ed. Saunders, 1982
 1 AGATHA CHRISTIE, POISON, AND CRIME 3

culture (fiction, nonfiction, true crime, film) may be viewed as “ingenious,

crazy, criminal, or conscienceless,” or may simply be “victims of domestic
tortures for whom murder by poisoning seems the only way out” (Klippel
et al. 2017, 4). In this reading, poisoners may be villains or victims, crazy
or cunning, without conscience or without hope. Cheryl Blake Price’s
work on the poisoner in Victorian literature concurs that the poisoner is a
flexible figure that may be readily adapted to specific social situations. In
Victorian literature, the poisoner is “an ever-shifting figure that absorbed
and reflected pressing social anxieties. The fictional poisoner appears in a
number of guises – such as middle-class wife [or perhaps upper-class wife
like Nancy Astor?] or the socially mobile professional man – that were of
particular Victorian concern and which authors used to analyze sites of
cultural contestation” (Blake Price 2019, 18). Where Blake Price views the
Victorian poisoner as the site of anxiety, Sarah Crosby views certain
American poisoners as potential sites of aspiration. Crosby (2016) argues
that the Jacksonian female poisoner is sometimes portrayed with positive
qualities because she is a metaphor for American authorship. This poisoner
stands for the author as one the American people against British elitism;
however, this poisoner stands for male authors only. This poisoner does
not reflect upon women’s status or lived experience and doesn’t even rep-
resent female authors because (to many Jacksonian Americans) “women
are meant to be metaphors, not shapers of them” (Crosby 2016, 48).
While Blake Price and Crosby describe the poisoner as a flexible figure
used to mark a boundary in a larger cultural debate, Klippel, Wahrig, and
Zechner assert that the poisoner is precarious not just flexible. While
authors might use a specific kind of poisoner to make a specific point (flex-
ible), the precarious poisoner always carries the potential for alternate
readings and multiple narratives.
If we return to the story of Sir Winston and Lady Aster, we can see this
precariousness at work, because the story touches upon multiple hotly
contested concepts simultaneously. Where Lady Astor asserts that women
are fed up with their husbands’ inconsiderate behavior (smoking), Sir
Winston counters that men are fed up with their wives’ controlling behav-
ior (nagging). Where Lady Astor treats poison as a way for put-upon
women to even the score with their more empowered husbands (women
couldn’t smoke like men), Sir Winston treats poison as a way for men to
escape from women who don’t know their place (which is to indulge their
husbands’ smoking). Are we supposed to be on Astor’s side or on
Churchill’s? Does our previous knowledge about these famous people
4 S. A. PAMBOUKIAN

affect our sympathy? Is the poisoner a villain or is the poisoned really the
villain (getting his due comeuppance for domestic misconduct)? Can we
see them both as victims or both as villains in an unfair system? Is the poi-
son in the cup or in the institution of marriage itself? As much as a narrator
might want to choose only one meaning, poison carries all of these at
once. Russian theorist Mikhail Bakhtin (1981) suggests that multiple
styles, voices, and perspectives exist simultaneously within a text. This
multiplicity or heteroglossia cannot be reduced to only one official voice
but is always open-ended, changeable, and responsive, drawing in and
transforming voices from other texts and from everyday language. In
Bakhtin’s carnival, this one official voice is overwhelmed altogether by
usually repressed voices in a topsy-turvy festival of laughter, community,
equity, and humanity. In carnival, seriousness can give way to silliness,
lower- and upper-class people can meet as equals, modest people can shout
obscenities, and fools can be crowned kings. A drawback, of course, to the
freedom of carnival is its limited time frame. There remains a question
about whether the freedom of carnival genuinely allows settled hierarchies
to be unsettled, or whether what happens in carnival stays in carnival. The
Churchill-Aster story also raises these same questions about whether hier-
archies are destabilized or not. Laughing at the notion of poisoning one’s
annoying spouse may momentarily reverse the order of things (turning
poisoning from crime into joke, coffee-making from chore to weapon),
but it may or may not affect mainstream culture’s dominant view of mas-
culinity, femininity, domesticity, and justice.
Certainly, the mainstream view of poison is not as a joke, quite the con-
trary. The dominant tropes about poisoning represent it as the worst of
crimes and poisoners as the worst of villains. The wicked Queen in Snow
White is a well-known example.2 The Queen begins her campaign with
murder-for-hire (when she asks a woodsman to kill Snow White). In the
1937 Disney version, the Queen then goes to the Dwarves’ house in dis-
guise and offers Snow White a poisoned apple (Hand 1937), but, in an
earlier version called “Little Snow White” from the Brothers Grimm
(1922), the Queen first approaches the Dwarves’ house as a peddler selling

2
According to Ashliman (2004), the Aarne-Thompson-Uther classification for this story is
ATU 709. In some variants, the stepmother and the witch are different characters, and the
witch uses a poisonous ring, poisoned drink, or poisoned sweetmeats to kill Snow White.
 1 AGATHA CHRISTIE, POISON, AND CRIME 5

laces.3 She laces up Snow White’s bodice too tightly and asphyxiates her
(the Dwarves cut the lace later). Still disguised as a peddler, the Queen
visits the house a second time and combs Snow White’s hair with a poi-
soned comb (the Dwarves take it out later). For her third try, the Queen
creates the poisoned apple—a second poisoning after the unsuccessful
comb incident. In both the Disney and the Grimm versions of the story,
food poisoning is apparently the most heinous of crimes because the story
progresses up the crime hierarchy from open violence to behind-the-­back
strangulation to clothing poisoning to food poisoning (with some witch-
craft to boot). In the case of the woodsman, Snow White can fight back,
but, in the case of the Queen, Snow White doesn’t even know she’s being
attacked until it is too late.
The Queen is not alone. There is a long tradition of villainous poisoners
in literature, myth, and legend, many of whom overlap with the figure of
the wicked witch.4 In The Odyssey, Circe transforms Odysseus’s crew into
swine using magical food. Since hospitality is an important value in the
culture of The Odyssey, Circe’s act is a terrible betrayal of her guests and of
the proper order of things. In Euripides’s play, Medea sends Jason’s new
wife a poisonous dress, and Deianira offers her husband, Heracles, a poi-
sonous shirt that kills him. In Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi, the evil
Cardinal tricks his mistress, Julia, into kissing a poisoned Bible. Talk about
betraying with a kiss. In the familiar Hamlet, the incestuous usurper-king
Claudius attempts to kill his nephew Hamlet by sending the young man to
England for execution. As in “Little Snow White,” the royal child avoids
violent death, so Claudius arranges a dual between Hamlet and his rival,
Laertes, but Claudius and Laertes decide that Laertes will use a poisoned
blade, so they can kill Hamlet by scratching him (like the Queen and Snow
White’s comb). For good measure, the King also offers Hamlet a poisoned
cup of wine. Like the Queen’s apple, the wine appears to be the apex of
the crime hierarchy, because it comes last and seems most duplicitous.
Other legendary figures are also associated with poisoning the food and
drink of friends and relations, including Lucrezia Borgia (who reportedly

3
The Grimm tales were translated into English in 1823 with at least 30 editions between
1823 and 1900. The Disney film version appeared in 1937 (Hand). Many critics address the
adaptation of fairy tales into various media including Zipes (2012), Rankin (2007), Sullivan
(1990), and Greenhill and Matrix (2010).
4
Unfortunately, this introduction cannot offer a full history of poisoning in literature. See
Eidinow (2016), Hallissy (1987), Pollard (1999), Satin (2007), and Trestrail (2001).
6 S. A. PAMBOUKIAN

poisoned rivals to aid her brother-lover Cesare), La Toffana (who suppos-

edly poisoned hundreds of unwanted husbands with her aqua Toffana),
and Madeleine d’Aubray, Marquise de Brinvilliers (who poisoned her
father and brother for an inheritance) (Emsley 2005, 142). Whether these
women truly lived up to their legends is questionable; however, their sto-
ries draw upon the literary trope of the ambitious, perverse, selfish, greedy,
and treacherous poisoner.
As with the Queen, whose apple recalls the first woman “poisoner,”
Eve, the villainous poisoner is stereotypically a woman, because poisoning
supposedly reflects women’s nature as cunning and untrustworthy
(although, of course, both men and women poison).5 In his landmark
study, Alan Macfarlane (1970) asserts that two crimes were considered
particularly feminine during the early modern period: witchcraft and poi-
soning (16).6 The same Latin term, veneficium, was used to accuse both
witches and poisoners (Walker 2003, 144; Martin 2008, 127). In his early
modern text on witchcraft, Reginald Scot (1584/1886) even translates
the well-known Biblical injunction “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”
as “Thou shalt not suffer a poisoner to live” (92). While early modern
men (perhaps afraid of appearing weak and cowardly) ridiculed the threat
posed by violent women by dismissing such women as screaming harri-
dans, they did not ridicule female witches or poisoners, because there was
no way for a man, however manly, to defend himself against them (Walker
2003, 81, 144). Those convicted of poisoning faced extremely harsh pen-
alties—boiling in oil at one point during the reign of Henry VIII or burn-
ing at the stake, the latter preferred for women who poisoned their
husbands in a crime called “petty treason” (Walker 2003, 138; Wilson
2013, 13). While high treason betrayed king and country, petty treason
betrayed a woman’s lord—her husband. If mainstream, Protestant, English
culture demonized women who rejected their proper, God-given, submis-
sive role by poisoning their lord and husband, scholars of early modern
English crime pamphlets also identify moments where poisoning exhibits
its precarious identity. For example, although condemning women who
poison, some crime pamphlets include stories praising female poisoners as

5
See Walker (2003) for early modern poisoning tallies and gender. See also Hallissy
(1987), Watson (2004), Trestrail (2001), Satin (2007), and Klippel et al. (2017).
6
Macfarlane (1970) notes that contemporary Reginald Scot (1584/1886) exhorts his
readers to pity witches as marginalized women. Other critics note hostility toward witches
because of their economic status (poor), social status (widowed, mentally ill), and behavior
(begging, scolding, gossiping, threatening). See also Levine (1994) and Sharpe (1996).
 1 AGATHA CHRISTIE, POISON, AND CRIME 7

avengers, such as Castiglione’s Camma who poisons her rapist, thereby

turning poison from an “instrument of evil” into a “tool of resistance”
(Walker 2003, 288; Wilson 2013, 153). While female avenger stories
“offer English readers an alternative model for understanding poisoning
in the domestic sphere” (Wilson 2013, 153), they are the stuff of legend,
not viable models with which to address real-life abuse (Wilson 2013,
166). That said, some accounts of early modern trials imply that juries
really did look sympathetically on female poisoners if the poisoning was
viewed as justified retaliation for wife-beating or other wrongdoing
(Martin 2008, 18, 137). Similarly, Garthine Walker (2003) suggests that
amid the general condemnation of poisoning some early modern authors
hinted that poisoning might be a Providential punishment, a well-deserved
judgment upon wife-beaters and other miscreants (143). The suggestion
that poisoning is Providential momentarily upends typical domestic and
social hierarchies by transforming the properly submissive wife into the
tool of divine justice. That said, while each of these scholars finds alternate
voices bubbling up through the villainous poisoner narrative, they concur
that the dominant view remained that poisoners, especially women poi-
soners, were villains.
As poisoning lost its Providential and religious aspects in the late eigh-
teenth and early nineteenth centuries, Cheryl Blake Price (2019) suggests
that it developed stronger links with medicine.7 Stories of depraved and
treacherous physician-poisoners such as Dr. Palmer, Dr. Pritchard, and Dr.
Cream filled newspapers and courtrooms (and execution places) with
crowds properly scandalized at the gruesome deaths of helpless patients
and trusting family members.8 Villainous physician-poisoners (or scientist-­
poisoners) in literature include Count Fosco in The Woman in White
(1859) (who may or may not have murdered a helpless invalid to steal an
heiress’s fortune); the physicians in Charlotte’s Inheritance (1868) (who
preside over the poisoning of father and daughter); and Dr. Roylott in the
Sherlock Holmes story “The Adventure of the Speckled Band” (1892)
(who is suspected of ingeniously poisoning his stepdaughters to steal their
inheritances). But poison may create heroes as well as villains. Previously,

7
Most poisoners are not really either women or medical professionals, but these groups are
disproportionately represented in fiction. Blake Price (2019) examines both the female poi-
soner and the physician-poisoner in Victorian fiction in depth.
8
For more on male physician-poisoners of the Victorian period (particularly physicians
Palmer, Pritchard, Crippen, and Cream), see McLaren (1993), Bates (2014), Burney (2006),
Emsley (2005), and Trestrail (2001).
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
of each item. The first number in the sale, which cost him $45,
brought $250; the next, for which he had paid $80, fetched $800,
and so on, until about fifteen items were sold.
LETTER SIGNED BY BUTTON GWINNETT, BOUGHT FOR
$51,000
His wife, who was watching his catalogue over his shoulder, and who
could hardly contain herself any longer, exclaimed, “My, Doctor R is
going strong to-night. Why, that letter which just sold for $1650 you
bought from him only a little while ago for $360. I feel like laughing
out loud.”
“If you do,” her husband threatened, “I’ll take you by the hair, drag
you outside, and strangle you!” At this his wife was quiescent for a
few minutes. The prices were still mounting. She then wrote on a
card which she passed to Mr. G——: “I can smile, can’t I?”
“That goes for smiling, too,” replied her husband.
About five years ago I was especially interested in all material
relating to Paul Revere and his celebrated ride. In the midst of my
researches a gentleman called upon me one day and showed me a
series of volumes which contained most important papers relating to
the Revolutionary period. On looking through them I was amazed to
run across the following outstanding document, which is dated
Cambridge, April 29, 1775, ten days after Revere’s famous exploit. It
is as follows:—
This may certify that the bearer Mr. Paul Revere is a messenger to the
Committee of Safety and that all dispatch and assistance be given him
in all instances that the business of the Collony may be facilitated.
Jos. Warren, Chairn
Poor General Warren, who signed Revere’s commission as
messenger, was killed a few weeks later at the Battle of Bunker Hill.
Although I freely admit that this letter belongs in the archives of New
England, you may be sure I keep it well within my reach. I don’t care
to have those doughty New England historians, such as Dr. Charles
L. Nichols, Clarence S. Brigham, George Parker Winship, and
Lawrence C. Wroth, come pouncing down as a mighty host and
demand it of me.
It is surprising how things fall the collector’s way in series. As I have
related in a previous article, I have the only certified copy of the
Declaration of Independence that is outside the public archives. But I
always hankered after a letter written by a signer who was an
eyewitness on that July Fourth, one hundred and fifty years ago—a
letter telling about the actual signing of the Declaration of
Independence. For twenty-two long years I searched for it, and was
delightfully shocked one day to read in an auction catalogue a
description of the following letter by Cæsar Rodney, the signer from
Delaware, to his brother, Thomas Rodney, dated Philadelphia, July
4, 1776. You may be sure I gobbled up this letter.
Rodney wrote:—
I arrived in Congress tho detained by thunder and rain time enough to
give my voice in the matter of Independence. It is now determined by
the thirteen United Colonies without even one desenting Colony. We
have now got through with the whole of the Declaration and ordered it
to be printed so that you will soon have the pleasure of seeing it. Hand
bills of it will be printed and sent to the armies, cities, county towns,
etc.—to be published or rather proclaimed in form....
I have always been peculiarly interested in anything which related to
the origin and history of the American flag, and I have always
wanted, with my infernal and almost feminine curiosity, to find out
when it was first raised. I had found references at various times to its
appearance sometime during the second year of the Revolution, but
could not discover the exact date in any of the items of Americana
which I had collected. One day about nine years ago I was reading a
manuscript, Journal of the most Material Occurrences proceeding
the Siege of Fort Schuyler, by William Colbreath. As I turned the
leaves of the manuscript my attention was arrested by the following:
—
Augt 3d [1777] Early this morning a Continental Flagg made by the
Officers of Col. Gansevoorts Regiment was hoisted and a Cannon
Levelled at the Enemies Camp was fired on the Occasion....
This is the only authoritative account known of the first raising of the
American battle flag, and it was on this day that the British troops
saw for the first time the new standard of America.
Some years ago I received a seductive appeal from a Boston
collector. He had purchased some wonderful books which, though
they filled his shelves, depleted his purse. And yet he could still
write, “Dear Doctor: Please tempt me!” How often do I wish the
sirens would tempt me, especially if the little charmers were in the
form of autograph letters and manuscripts relating to Lincoln and his
time. Believe me, I’ll never be too old to be caught by their allure.
Of all periods in American history, none is more inspiring and
dramatic than that of the Civil War. It is one of the most kaleidoscopic
times in all history, with three men of outstanding character in it,
Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses S. Grant, and Robert E. Lee. Any scrap of
material relating to them is bound to increase in value. Lincoln letters
to-day are rarer than Washington’s, and nearly all of his great pieces
are written in his own hand.
Of course, collectors prefer what are known as A. L. S. (autograph
letter signed) instead of the L. S., or letter merely signed by Lincoln,
that is, not in his handwriting but written by an official clerk. Thank
God, those were the days before the typewriter, and every letter
contains an intimate appeal which the machine can never give.
That puts me in mind of a good one.
About three months ago a lady came to see me in New York and
asked to be shown some Lincoln letters. I used the cataloguer’s
phrase and spoke of holographs, fair copies, A. L. S., and the usual
rigmarole of the collector. I then exhibited before her interested eyes
a letter of Lincoln’s which I treasured, because it is perhaps the only
one in which Lincoln swore. It was addressed to John T. Stuart, his
law partner, dated Vandalia, Illinois, February 14, 1839, and he
refers to a man named Ewing as follows:—
Ewing won’t do anything. He is not worth a damn.
Your friend,
A. Lincoln
The lady exclaimed, “I know what you mean by A. L. S. I did not
understand you at first. You mean Abraham Lincoln swore!”
Americana really is the collector’s best bet. I can never be too
grateful to Uncle Moses for his advice to me. I have kept zealously
almost every piece relating to the Civil War, and I think that I have
succeeded in the past thirty years in gathering the finest collection
relating to it, except the national collection in Washington. I have
such remarkable Lincoln documents as his first draft of the
Emancipation Proclamation, entirely in his autograph, written six
months before it was finally put into operation on January 1, 1863;
his famous Baltimore address, in which he gives his celebrated
definition of liberty; the original manuscript of his speech about the
formation of the Republican Party; and many other pieces of the
greatest historical significance, which can never come a collector’s
way again.
I cannot resist giving Lincoln’s speech on the party of which he was
the most illustrious leader:—
Upon those men who are, in sentiment, opposed to the spread and
nationalization of slavery, rests the task of preventing it. The
Republican Organization is the embodiment of that sentiment; though
as yet, it by no means embraces all the individuals holding that
sentiment. The party is newly formed, and in forming, old party ties
had to be broken, and the attractions of party pride, and influential
leaders, were wholly wanting. In spite of all differences, prejudices,
and animosities, its members were drawn together by a paramount
common danger. They formed and maneuvered in the face of the
disciplined enemy, and in the teeth of all his persistent
misrepresentations. Of course, they fell far short of gathering in all of
their own. And yet, a year ago, they stood up, an army over thirteen
hundred thousand strong. That army is, today, the best hope of the
nation, and of the world. Their work is before them, and from which
they may not guiltlessly turn away.
I have spoken of the unfurling of the first American battle flag. The
following is Lincoln’s beautiful acknowledgment of a flag sent him by
some ladies of a patriotic society:—
Executive Mansion
Aug. 10, 1863
Permit me to return my grateful acknowledgements to the fair
manufacturer and generous donors of the beautiful present which
accompanies their note of the 20th July. If anything could enhance to
me the value of this representation of our national ensign, so elegantly
executed and so gracefully bestowed, it would be the consideration
that its price has been devoted to the comfort and restoration of those
heroic men who have suffered and bled in our flag’s defense. We
never should, and I am sure, never shall be niggard of gratitude and
 benefaction to the soldiers who have endured toil, privations and
wounds, that the nation may live.
Yours very truly,
A. Lincoln

I do not want to be accused of waving too often our emblem. But I

must give in full two letters relating to the Confederate flag. They are
not particularly valuable in a money sense, but I do not think any
amount would tempt me to sell them. They are the kind that cannot
fail to melt the heart of an old bachelor with a fondness for children.
The first is addressed by General Leroy P. Walker, Secretary of War
in the Confederate Cabinet, to General Beauregard, from Richmond,
Virginia, September 14, 1861, and says:—
My dear General:
The enclosed note from my little daughter was written by her without
suggestion or alterations in any way, and the design for a flag is
entirely her own conception. She has insisted so strongly on sending it
to you that I did not feel at liberty to refuse her. I consent the more
readily because I am sure you will appreciate it in the spirit in which it
is sent.
She signs herself with the usual vanity of her sex, “daughter of the
Secretary of War”, and this gives me the opportunity to say that my
official connection with the Army is about to terminate, having
tendered my resignation to the President a few days since.
What I have done in this office has been honestly done, and when the
history of this war is written I feel that the laggard justice of popular
approval will be bestowed.
I am etc.,
Most truly,
yr friend L. P. Walker
And here is the second letter:—
General Beauregard:—
I send you a design entirely my own for a Confederate flag. I have
never been satisfied with the Confederate flag, because it is too much
like that of the United States. I am a little girl nine years old and
though I have never seen you I feel as though I knew you
 Your admirer
Matilda Pope Walker
Daughter of the Secretary of War
Richmond, Virginia. Sept. 14.
I feel that I must return for a moment to Lincoln. Although I have
letters of the greatest historical import not only from the martyr
President himself but from nearly all his generals and members of
his cabinet, I prefer the notebook of Surgeon C. S. Taft, who was at
Lincoln’s bedside at the time of his death. You can hear in it not only
the last tragic heartbeats of one of the truly great characters of all
time, but the knell of a soul-stirring epoch. The meagre words that
follow, extracted from the notebook, are to me more moving than all
the fine writing in the world:—
The wound ceased to bleed or discharge about 5.30 a.m. and from
that time the breathing was stertorous but gradually increased in
frequency and decreased in strength up to the last breath, which was
drawn at 21 minutes and 55 seconds after 7; the heart did not cease
to beat until 22′ 10″ past 7; my hand was upon the President’s heart
and my eye upon the watch of the Surgeon General who was standing
by my side.
The finest character after Lincoln in the whole Civil War was
undoubtedly that great gentleman and descendant of gentlemen,
Robert E. Lee. From my schooldays I had read of his life of nobility
and sorrow. The letter in which he resigned his commission,
addressed to General Winfield Scott, who commanded the American
Army, has always been to me the highest example of patriotism and
the soldier’s ideal credo. The words, “save in defence of my native
State, I never desire again to draw my sword,” have been indelibly
impressed upon every mind. I know of no letter that I would sooner
possess than this, but it was thirty years before I could finally call it
my own. I give it here without further comment:—
Arlington, Washington City P. O.
20th April, 1861
Lieut. Gen. Winfield Scott,
Com. Army
 General:—Since my interview with you on the 18th inst., I have felt
that I ought no longer to retain my commission in the army. I therefore
tender my resignation which I request you will recommend for
acceptance. It would have been presented at once, but for the
struggle it has cost me to separate myself from the service to which I
have devoted all the best years of my life, all the ability I possessed.
During the whole of that time, more than thirty years, I have
experienced nothing but kindness from my superiors, the most cordial
friendship from my companions. To no one General have I been so
much indebted as to yourself for uniform kindness and consideration,
and it had always been my urgent desire to merit your approbation. I
shall carry with me to the grave the most grateful recollections of your
kind consideration, and your name and fame will always be dear to
me. Save in the defence of my native State, I never desire again to
draw my sword. Be pleased to accept my most earnest wishes for the
continuance of your happiness and prosperity, and believe me most
truly yours,
Robert E. Lee

Four years elapsed. The war was over. General Lee had
surrendered. The following letter, which I hold, to his old friend,
General Beauregard, is one of the finest letters ever written by the
hand of man.
Lexington, Va.
3rd Oct. ’65
My dear Gen.:—
I am glad to see no indication in your letter of an intention to leave the
country. I think the South requires the aid of her sons now, more than
at any period of her history. As you ask my purpose, I will state that I
have no thought of abandoning her, unless compelled to do so.
“After the surrender of the Southern Armies in April, the revolution in
the opinions & feelings of the people, seemed so complete, & the
return of the Southern States into the union of all the States, so
inevitable; that it became in my opinion, the duty of every citizen, the
Contest being virtually ended, to cease opposition, & place himself in
a position to serve the country. I therefore upon the promulgation of
the proclamation of Pres. Johnson, which indicated apparently his
policy in restoring peace, determine to comply with its requirements; &
on the 13 of June, applied to be embraced within its provisions. I have
not heard the result of my application, but since then have been
 elected to the Presidency of Washington College, & have entered
upon the duties of the office, in the hope of being of some benefit to
the noble youth of our country.
“I need not tell you, that true patriotism requires of men sometimes, to
act exactly contrary at one period, to that which it does at another; &
that the motive which impels them, viz, the desire to do right, is
precisely the same. The circumstances which govern their actions
undergo change, and their conduct must conform to the new order of
things. History is full of illustrations of this. Washington himself is an
example, at one time he fought against the French, under Braddock,
in the service of the King of Great Britain; at another he fought with
the French at Yorktown, under the orders of the Continental Congress
of America, against him. He has not been branded by the world with
reproach for this, but his course has been applauded.
With sentiments of great esteem
I am most truly yours
R. E. Lee
To me, Ulysses S. Grant has always been a gigantic figure. He is
probably the greatest general this country has ever produced.
Nowhere are his simplicity and greatness better shown than in his
letters. For some reason they are not yet appreciated at their proper
worth, but the time will come when their extraordinary merits will be
recognized. They are written in a direct style, free of all elaboration,
not unlike Lincoln’s, but without his peculiar felicity of phrase. They
are the words of a soldier, not a statesman. Two of the letters which I
have are, it seems to me, without parallel for conciseness and
beauty. The first, written at the beginning of the war, is to his father:
—
May 30th, 1861
Galena, Illinois
Dear Father:—
I have now been home near a week, but return to Springfield today. I
have tendered my services to the government and go today to make
myself useful, if possible, from this until our national difficulties are
ended. During the six days I have been at home, I have felt all the
time as if a duty was being neglected that was paramount to any other
duty I ever owed. I have every reason to be well satisfied with myself
for the services already rendered but to stop now would not do.
Yours truly,
U. S. Grant
 GRANT’S TELEGRAM TO STANTON ANNOUNCING THE
SURRENDER OF LEE
The second, at the war’s end, is probably the finest single document
in private hands to-day, as it is the original official telegram which
ended the greatest conflict in American history. Why I was allowed to
get this is one of the mysteries of collecting. It should not be in the
hands of any one person, but ought to be in the safekeeping of the
Government. It was written in obvious haste, in his own hand, at the
moment General Lee surrendered, on a page in the notebook of
Grant’s orderly, General Badeau.
Appomattox Court House
April 9th, 1865. 4.50 o’clock p. m.
Hon. E. M. Stanton, Sec. of War, Washington
Gen. Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Va. this afternoon on
terms proposed by myself. The accompanying additional
correspondence will show the condition fully.
U. S. Grant, Lt. Gen.

The demand for things American is not a passing fancy. It will

increase in the same way as a stone gathers moss. The prices now
paid for early American furniture, pottery, glass, and pictures are but
an indication of a movement yet in its infancy. Even collectors in
England, such as that eminent enthusiast, Sir R. Leicester
Harmsworth, Bart., are gathering objects of interest relating to this
country. It is only meet and proper that Americans themselves
should tenderly cherish the primal, honest, unpretentious things to
which this country owes its greatness.
 INDEX
Adam, R. B., 161.
Adonais, 25.
Agnesi, Baptista, 274.
Agriculture of Argyll County, 21.
Alexander, forged letter of, 121.
Althorp, Lord, 90, 91, 263.
Ambrosian Library (Milan), 271.
Amenities of Book Collecting (Newton), 47.
America, History of (Robertson), 20.
American Tract Society, 184.
Americana, 45, 53-58, 172-177, 253, 265-299.
See also Franklin and Washington.
Amore di Florio e di Bianchafiore (Boccaccio), 29.
Amoretti (Spenser), 148, 149, 150.
Anderson Galleries sales, 53, 95, 219, 286.
André, Major, forged letter of, 99, 100.
“Annabel Lee,” MS. of, 164, 166, 167.
Arcadia (Sidney), 61.
Arnold, Benedict, letter of, 172, 173, 174.
Articles of Confederation (U. S. A.), 176, 177.
Asquith, Margot, 43.
Autographs, A Book about, 119.
Avery, Mary, 188.
Ayer, Edward E., 252.

Babes in the Wood, 195.

Bache, Benjamin Franklin, 197, 198.
Bacon’s Essays, 46, 50.
Badeau, Gen. Adam, 299.
Bancroft, George, 6.
“Bannockburn,” original MS. of Burns’s, 162.
Barker, Robert, 237.
Barmudas, Discovery of the, etc., 265.
Barnes (Berners), Dame Juliana, 30.
Battle Abbey Cartularies, 257, 258.
Baxter, Richard, 43, 79.
Beatty, A. Chester, 225.
Beauregard, Gen. Pierre Gustave
Toutant, 292, 293;
letter of Lee to, 295, 296.
Beauties of the Primer, 199.
Bellomont, Earl of, 64.
Bement, Clarence S., 8, 18, 239.
Bennett, Arnold, MS. of, 262.
Berners (Barnes), Dame Juliana, 30.
Bible, Aitken, 242.
Bible, Bamberg (Pfister), 220, 221, 229.
Bible, Baskett’s, 242.
Bible, Breeches (Genevan), 239, 240, 241.
Bible, Bug, 241.
Bible, Conqueror, 222.
Bible, Coverdale, 234, 236, 237.
Bible, Eggestyn, 231.
Bible, Eliot Indian, 78, 242.
Bible, Genevan (Breeches), 239, 240, 241.
Bible, Great, 231, 237.
Bible, Great French, 231.
Bible, Gutenberg, 17, 28, 83, 84, 89;
in Mazarin Library, 211, 214, 215;
the Melk copy of, 212;
production of, 212, 213, 214;
identification by De Bure, 214, 215;
perfecting the types for, 216;
copy in Eton College library, 217, 218;
from the Vulgate MS., 218;
copies bought by Dr. Rosenbach, 218, 219, 220;
bought by James Lenox, 244.
Bible, He, 237, 239.
Bible, Jenson, 231.
Bible, King James (Authorized), 237, 238, 239.
Bible, Mainz (of 1462), 221.
Bible, Mazarin. See Gutenberg Bible.
Bible, Pfister (Bamberg), 220, 221, 229.
Bible, “R”, 231.
Bible, Saur, 242.
Bible, She, 237.
Bible, Strasburg, 231.
Bible, Sweynheym and Pannartz, 231.
Bible, Vinegar, 241, 242.
Bible, Wicked, 241, 242.
Bible for the Poor, 228, 229.
Bible in English, 232-242.
Bible MSS., Codex Vaticanus, 221;
Codex Alexandrinus, 221;
Codex Sinaiticus, 221, 222;
illuminated copies, 222, 223, 224, 225;
Four Gospels, ninth century, 223;
Liesborn Gospels, 223, 224;
Historiated Bible of fourteenth century, 224;
early Hebrew copy, 224.
Bibles, Thumb, 205.
Biblia Pauperum, 228, 229.
Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris), 215, 229, 245.
Bigelow, John, 141, 142.
Bixby, William K., 40.
Black Giles, 195.
Blandford, Marquis of, 90, 91, 128.
Block books, 226, 227, 228, 229.
Boccaccio, Giovanni, 29, 90.
Boker, George H., 6.
Book of Hunting and Hawking, The, 30.
Boswell, James, 14, 47, 126, 127, 128.
Botticelli, Sandro, 229.
Bowden, A. J., 81, 82.
Boyle, Elizabeth, Faerie Queene presented to, 148, 149, 150.
Bradford, Thomas, 206.
Bradford, William (Governor), 281.
Bradford, William (printer), 64, 65.
Brailes, W. de, 224, 225.
Brant, Sebastian, 22.
Brawne, Fanny, letter of Keats to, 95, 96, 97.
Brazil, National Library of, 221.
Brevoort, James Carson, 267.
Brewster, Sir David, 118.
Brief and True Relation of the Discovery of the Northern Part of
Virginia, A (Brereton), 277.
Briefe and true report of the new found land of Virginia (Hariot),
275.
Brief Description of New York First Called New Netherlands
(Denton), 282.
Brigham, Clarence S., 288.
Brinley, Dr. George, 19, 267.
British Museum library, 50, 157, 221, 226, 244, 245, 246.
Britwell Court sale, 52, 77, 257.
Brown, Charles Brockden, 5.
Brown, John Carter, 243, 244, 267, 272, 275.
Brummell, George (“Beau”), letter of, 258.
Bry, Théodore de, 275.
Bryant, William Cullen, 6.
Buccaneers of America, The, 206.
Burdett-Coutts, Baroness, 27, 85, 158.
Burns, Robert, Glenriddel MSS. of, 160, 161;
Adam collection of, 161-164.
California, University of Southern, 45.
Call to the Unconverted, 43, 44, 79.
Cambridge University library, 50, 245.
Campbell, Mrs. Patrick, 115.
Canterbury Tales, The, 29.
Capell collection at Trinity College, 52.
Carlos V (Lope de Vega), 77.
“Carroll, Lewis” (C. L. Dodgson), forged autographs of, 111.
Cartier (Jacques) atlas, 275.
Carysfort sale, 219, 221.
Casas, Bartolomé de las, 275.
Catlin, George, 223.
Caxton, William, 29, 62;
History of Troy, 132;
Golden Legend, 232, 233.
Cervantes (Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra), letter of, 100, 101,
102.
Champlain, Samuel de, 66.
Charles V, forged letter of, 118;
genuine signature of, 269.
Chasles, Michel, 117-121.
Chatterton, Thomas, 128, 129, 130.
Chattin, James, 198.
Chaucer, Geoffrey, MSS. of, 252;
contemporary portrait of, 252.
Church, E. Dwight, 142.
Cieza de Leon, Pedro de, 275.
Civil Law (Brown), 20.
Clarissa Harlowe, 204.
Clark, C. W., 256.
Clark, William A., Jr., 45, 80.
Clemens, Samuel L. (“Mark Twain”), 164, 165.
Clements, William L., 45.
Cleopatra, forged letter of, 119.
Cockerell, Sydney C., 224, 225.
Colbert, Jean Baptiste, 21, 24.
Colbreath, William, 289.
Collections of Treaties (Jenkinson), 20.
Columbus, Christopher, 269, 270;
letter of, 271, 272.
Compleat Angler, The, 30.
Condell, Henry, 88, 151.
Confederation, Articles of (U. S. A.), 176, 177.
Confessio Amantis, 252.
Congressional Library, 67, 176, 246.
Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur’s Court, A, 164.
Conrad, Joseph, 143, 144, 145.
Cooper, James Fenimore, 6.
Cortés, Hernando, 269, 274.
Cosmographiæ Introductio, 273.
Coster (Koster), Lourens Janszoon, 216.
Cotton, Rev. John, 188, 189.
Coverdale, Miles, 234, 236.
Crane sale (1913), 198, 199.