We pick up the story of Francis Mitchell in Hobart, Tasmania (then Van Diemen’s Land) where Francis has taken work as the island’s coroner. Early in 1881, Francis Jr (34) and his wife Charlotte pay a visit to the Mitchells in Hobart. It is 5:00 PM February 1, 1881. Francis, Mary, Francis Jr and Charlotte are sitting round the fire in the drawing room sipping mulled wine. Francis Jr speaks:
“My dear parents, do you still insist on not joining us at the theatre this evening? I would love to treat. You’ve been so good to us this trip. Please come, won’t you?”
“Not this time son. I’m just not feeling up to it. I’ve been doing a lot of travel lately and I’m not a young man any more. There will be lots of other opportunities. But thank you. I appreciate the invitation. Mother, what about you.”
“No thank you Francis. I’m happy to stay home and relax with your father. We’ve got a cozy fire going and I’ve got some knitting to catch up on. You and Charlotte take this time for yourselves. But thank you all the same.”
Charlotte speaks. “Francis, are you sure you’re up to it. Your fainting spells have increased recently and I’m worried about you. We can easily go to the theatre another time when you’re more stable.”
“Charlotte, I’m just fine. Really. I feel top notch today. But if it will make you feel better, take along the smelling ammonia in the off chance I have a spell. Come on then, we’d best get ready.”
Almost the entire who’s who of Hobart are in the theatre lobby at intermission. The women, in expensive gowns and far too much make-up, the men in formal evening wear. The air in the lobby is thick with the smoke of pipes, cigars and cigarettes. Patrons cluster with old friends and exchange pleasantries. All is as it should be and then…
There is a gasp in the crowd. Someone yells “MAN DOWN. GET A DOCTOR.” Francis is lying
face up on the floor.
Charlotte, on edge about her husbands recent bout of fainting spells, cries out and rushes frantically to where the crowd has parted to make room for the unconscious man. Francis is lying face up on the floor. His mouth is hanging open. “Oh dear God,” she cries, “Francis!”
Charlotte is visibly agitated, barely able to focus on what she must do next. From her purse she takes a small glass vial and removes the stopper. Her hand is shaking uncontrollably.
Kneeling down, and unthinking, she tucks the vial of ammonia under his nose. In an instant she realizes her mistake. The ammonia pours from the vial and slips into her husband’s mouth and down his throat.
“Oh my God, what have I done? My dear husband, please forgive me.
Please, please, somebody help.”
A doctor is found and attends the stricken man, but there is nothing he can do. The ammonia has done its work. For two days, Francis endures unspeakable pain, then dies.