Poor Mina

Last year I read this book called The Murder of Dr. Chapman: The Legendary Trials of Lucretia Chapman and Her Lover (Harper Collins, 2004) by Linda Wolfe.

I can't say it was the best book I've ever read (it was one of those "history" books that reads like a novel. For example, instead of just saying "Trial transcripts tell us that there was commotion in the courtroom," the book will say something like, "'Order! Order!' demanded the judge! Mrs. Chapman threw an arm to her brow and swooned!" or something. You know what I mean? But I digress.)

Lino Espos y Mina

Still, it's a really interesting story. Like a real-life soap opera. It even has a   swarthy and dashing villain.

Here's a story The Intelligencer ran in one of its 1975 bicentennial commemorative editions. It's a little hokey (I guess people can't write about this case without being hokey), but it sums up the events pretty well.

Bucks scandal of the century 

By MATTHEW T. CORSO

No other court trial stirred more public outrage in Bucks County in the 19th century than what became known as the Chapman-Mina tragedy.

The narrative of the sensational scandal had all the ingredients of a Gothic thriller: murder by poison, vanquished lovers, conspiracy and a public execution without equal in Bucks County history.

Dr. William Chapman was a 53-year-old, highly respected educator who ran a boarding school in Bensalem Township.

His wife, Lucretia, 44, was a proper matron and pillar of the community.

They had five children and lived what most people would have considered a productive and socially prestigious life.

Then came Mina.

His full name was [Corso gets it wrong, actually. His name was Lino Espos y Mina] (pronounced Mean-ya).

At 22, he was a brash, short drifter endowed with a seductive Latin charm.

He was also a charlatan looking for some quick money.

On May 9, 1831, as Bucks County shimmered with the bloom of spring, Mina, garbed in a shabby waistcoat, arrived at the front door of the Chapman residence and asked for lodging.

Mina intrigued the Chapmans, weaving a story of woe. He claimed to be the son of Governor Mina of Mexico, who was then the executive of Upper California.

Mrs. Chapman was spellbound by his florid and broken English, his elaborate manners and his convincing oratory.

He claimed that he was defrauded of all his money while studying in Europe and was working his was across the continent.

Enraptured, Mrs. Chapman insisted that Mina be taken into her home.

Andalusia, Bensalem Township, in an 1876 atlas.

Even from her own testimony, Mrs. Chapman later revealed that she fell madly in love with “the Spaniard,” as he became known in the press. (Actually, he was a Venezuelan).

While their love affair flourished behind Dr. Chapman’s back, Mrs. Chapman found in Mina a sense of adventure, as well as the forbidden which contrasted sharply with the respected regimen of her life with her husband.

In mid-June, Dr. Chapman mysteriously became ill with violent stomach cramps.

On June 23, Chapman died.

One newspaper said in a eulogy that Dr. Chapman was a man of “unusual esteem” and that his death was a blow to the community. He was buried.

A week later, Mrs. Chapman and Mina secretly were married in Syracuse, N.Y.

That aroused local suspicions and a police investigation was begun.

Chapman’s remains were disinterred and comprehensive tests showed that he did not die of natural causes, as first presumed.

No, the good Dr. Chapman died of arsenic poisoning!

Investigators discovered that Mina had purchased a large quantity of arsenic from a Philadelphia apothecary on June 16, seven days before Chapman died.

Then Mina and Mrs. Chapman disappeared but Mina absconded without his lover. He took with him all the money and jewels he could find in the house.

The response to the disappearance of the marked pair triggered widespread social disgust and newspapers began referring to Mina as “that wretched Spaniard.”

Within several weeks, Mina was arrested in Boston and claimed no knowledge of the despicable deed.

Mrs. Chapman was arrested in Erie, Pa. and returned tearfully but maintained her innocence.

The prosecutors alleged that Chapman was murdered by arsenic poisoning which had been administered to him repeatedly over several days.

The trials of Mina and Mrs. Chapman became the cause célèbre of Bucks County.

Newspapers printed verbatim proceedings of the testimony and, in the journalistic tradition of the day, did not fail to comment editorially in the news accounts.

What appeared to outrage many people was not that Mrs. Chapman fell into disgrace, but that she did so with Mina, a man half her age who was a member of a minority group.

Both were indicted but Mrs. Chapman’s lawyers succeeded in getting separate trials.

The matron admitted that she daily gave her husband a bowl of chicken soup during his illness but disclaimed any knowledge of the soup’s containing arsenic:

In February 1832, Mrs. Chapman was acquitted of murder, the jury convinced that she was only the unwilling dupe of Mina.

Mina was convicted in April 1832, and was sentenced to death by hanging.

Appeals for clemency were rejected, especially in light of the storm of indignation which was rising against Mina in popular sentiment.

In fact, anti-Mina feeling ran so high that local politicians jumped on the bandwagon and contributed bigoted speeches of condemnation.

Elaborate preparations were set for the execution which was to take place at what is now Neshaminy Manor Center.

The largest assembly of soldiers in Bucks County since the Revolutionary War was gathered to take part in the garish ceremonies.

Some 14 companies of infantry and six companies of cavalry were in attendance.

The excess was criticized by one historian who claimed that the military display appealed to the worst instincts of the citizenry.

“The parade was more befitting the triumphal march of a conquering hero than to (waiting) on a miserable convict to the place of death,” wrote Bucks historian W.W.H. Davis.

Mina stood on the gallows, the rope around his neck, and wept before an incredible throng of 10,000 to 15,000 persons, including hundreds of children.

He proclaimed his innocence and asked God’s forgiveness for his executioners.

That was on June 21 1832, almost a year to the day that Dr. Chapman had died.

The order was given and Mina cried out for a fearful moment before the rope tightened, ending his life.

The large crowd drifted away. It was the last public execution held in Bucks County and historians attribute this fact to the revulsion that resulted from the Mina spectacle.

Mrs. Chapman, shamed and scorned, left Bucks County and wandered about the country making a meager living by giving lectures on generally religious topics.

She died in Florida in 1851, penniless and alone.

Lucretia and Mina. Their names are now but an infamous footnote in the history of Bucks County.

The other day I can across this account of Mina's hanging, published July 3, 1832 by The Huron Reflector of Norwalk Ohio:

July 3, 1832
The Huron Reflector
Norwalk Ohio

The Execution of MINA,

The place selected for the execution of Mina was well chosen. It was an extensive plain, about two miles from Doylestown, and half a mile from the high road to Philadelphia, having a gentle and gradual slope, which, without producing too steep a descent, afforded an excellent prospect from all quarters. The gallows was erected near the centre.

At an early hour in the morning, the troops, who had been requested to assist in the duties of the day, began to assemble; and soon after 8 o’clock, a company of infantry was marched into the area in front of the prison, with a view to guard the entrance from the pressure of the crowd, which was already great, and was momentarily increasing. About half-past 9, A. M. the prisoner was brought forth, lie walked with an erect and firm step, and his manner evinced no agitation. He leaned on the arm of a Catholic Priest, who has been repeatedly with him since his conviction, and was preceded by the Sheriff and his Deputy.

Passing through a double file of soldiers to the road, these four entered a light dearborn wagon, in which Mina and the clergyman occupied the back seat. In front of the vehicle, a number of constables paraded with their staffs, and behind walked several gentlemen who had been invited by the Sheriff to join in the procession. On each side and in the rear, was a guard of Cavalry. During the whole progress, which lasted more than half an hour, the crowd was immense. Every fence was covered, and as far as the eye could reach, the road was thronged with spectators, all anxious to obtain a view of the prisoner.

The heat and dust were both intolerable. Mina behaved with great composure. He gazed at objects as he passed with the quiet and gratified look of one who has long been shut out from the fresh air and the bright sunshine, but there was none of that awe manifest which ought to be in the countenances of those to whom the pleasant scenes of Earth are soon to be shrouded in utter darkness.

The troops under command of Major General Rogers, were drawn up, at the place of execution, in a hollow square, and this arrangement, while it secured the Sheriff and the prisoner from the crowd, enabled the spectators to see with increased comfort and advantage. As the procession attending the prisoner, entered the squares he looked steadfastly at the gallows; and, when he alighted from the dearborn, be ascended the steps leading to the scaffold with a firmness which, under all the circumstances, was astonishing. For nearly nine months he had been immured in a jail — within a few hours he had lost a quantity of blood sufficient to reduce the strongest man, and, for two nights and two days, he had not obtained a moment’s sleep. Besides this, the journey from the prison was distressing.

The heat was intense; and the atmosphere thickened with a suffocating dust, which made respiration both painful and difficult. Despite of every thing, however, Mimi was true to his strange character. As soon as he had recruited himself by a few minutes rest and a sip of water, he stood up and gazed around at the multitude. Whenever he recognized a familiar face, he nodded and smiled with the greatest affability; and talked at one time to his counsel, Mr. McDowell, who was with him on the scaffold, then to the Sheriff and again to the priest, using an abundance of gestures, with the air of one who had no special interest in the important event about to take place. He scanned, with a curious eye, the transverse beam of the scaffold, as if to ascertain its strength; examined the rope, and assumed the position which he wished his hands to be placed. After the lapse of nearly an hour, spent in communings between him and the priest, conversation with the Sheriff and his Counsel, and such observances as we have already noted, Mr. McDowell, as the organ of Mina, who had neither sufficient compass of voice, nor knowledge of the language to make himself heard and understood, addressed the assemblage. As near as we can recollect these were his words: —

“American people, you have before you an innocent victim; many of you are thirsty for his blood. Upon what consideration are you so. Why am I chastised. By whom am I betrayed. I have never done wrong to any body; if I have, I hope they will pardon me, as I pardon them; and as I trust that God will take me into everlasting life in heaven. American people, you do not see before you a feeble man — I am a courageous man. I will not be thought a feeble man — I will show you how I can die. I am not afraid to die. If any body here wishes to bid me farewell, let them come forward and shake hands with me.”

A number of persons went forward and did as he requested. This ceremony over the Sheriff read the death warrant, during which Mina never blanched, and then the priest and the culprit kneeled together & for a few minutes were engaged in solemn and earnest prayer. When they rose Mina walked to each of the four sides of the platform and stretched out his arms, as if bidding farewell, saying in a plaintive voice “poor Mina, poor innocent Mina.” The rope was then adjusted, the black cap placed on his head, the arms pinioned, and in a few minutes the blow was struck, the scaffold fell and Mina was no more. He was executed at precisely twenty minutes before twelve.

To the last moment Mina preserved the recklessness of his nature.

He insisted that the cap should not be drawn over his eyes, for, in his own language, he did not wish to die like a woman. For a few moments after the platform fell, so long as he might be supposed capable of retaining any consciousness, he did not stir a muscle; but soon the heaving of the chest and the spasmodic action of the lower extremities showed the struggle of life with death.

He was taken down after hanging 35 minutes.

Mica was dressed in a black, circassian frock, buff vest, and light satteen pantaloons. The bosom of his shirt was richly embroidered, and the collar thrown back over his coat; his neck had no covering except a narrow black ribbon.

Thus died Lino Amalio Espos y Mina whose strange history will in time to come be regarded as idle romance. Such various elements were mixed up in him that they cannot be analyzed; his character is and always will remain “a marvel and a mystery.” As be lived, so he died, without friendship or sympathy.

Even his daring wanted the attribute of true courage. He was foolhardy, but not brave; he rushed boldly on consequences because he could not perceive them.

Too much praise cannot be awarded to Sheriff Morris for his dignified arid manly discharge of the painful duties which his official station imposed upon him. While he tempered the severity of the law with a tender and creditable humanity, he shrunk from the performance of nothing belonging to his functions.

All his arrangements were praiseworthy and notwithstanding the immense crowd, there was neither, so far as we can learn, accident or disturbance. The military authorities too, are entitled to credit, and it is greatly to the honor of Bucks County that no public execution was ever conducted with more decorum and sobriety. Saturday Courier