Mary Ann Cotton - "Husband" 4: Frederick Cotton

"Husband" 4: Frederick Cotton

Mary Ann was desperate and living on the streets. Then her friend Margaret Cotton introduced her to her brother, Frederick, a pitman and recent widower living in Walbottle, Northumberland, who had lost two of his four children. Margaret had acted as substitute mother for the remaining children, Frederick Jr. and Charles. But in late March 1870 Margaret died from an undetermined stomach ailment, leaving Mary Ann to console the grieving Frederick Sr. Soon her eleventh pregnancy was underway.

Frederick and Mary Ann were bigamously married on 17 September 1870 at St Andrew's, Newcastle Upon Tyne and their son Robert was born early in 1871. Soon after, Mary Ann learnt that her former lover, Joseph Nattrass, was living in the nearby village of West Auckland, and no longer married. She rekindled the romance and persuaded her new family to move near him. Frederick followed his predecessors to the grave in December of that year, from “gastric fever." Insurance had been taken out on his life and the lives of his sons.

Read more about this topic:  Mary Ann Cotton

Famous quotes containing the words husband, frederick and/or cotton:

    “The city sleeps and the country sleeps,
    The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time,
    The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife;
    And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,
    And such as it is to be of these more or less I am,
    And of these one and all I weave the song of myself.”
    —Walt Whitman (1819–1892)

    “Science is the knowledge of many, orderly and methodically
    digested and arranged, so as to become attainable by one. The
    knowledge of reasons and their conclusions constitutes abstract, that of causes and their effects, and of the laws of nature, natural science.”
    —John Frederick William Herschel (1792–1871)

    “We are constituted a good deal like chickens, which, taken from the hen, and put in a basket of cotton in the chimney-corner, will often peep till they die, nevertheless; but if you put in a book, or anything heavy, which will press down the cotton, and feel like the hen, they go to sleep directly.”
    —Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)