The Victorian Woman’s Guide to Baking with Arsenic
A spooky excerpt from Wicked Cake by Becca Stickler
Cake friends,
Our upcoming issue Tough Cookie is in the oven (or at least, almost on its way to the printers). But today we’re digging into the Wicked Cake archives to share a special excerpt for Halloween: a taxonomy of murderous Victorian women whose preferred weapons were sweets by Becca Stickler. Becca is a writer and zine-maker who dove deep into the dark corners of history to chronicle how these women subverted societal expectations with sugar and strychnine. We’re thrilled to share the piece online here for the first time.
Wicked Cake is currently sold out but stay tuned via this newsletter for updates on a potential digital release, plus the imminent approach of our next issue, Tough Cookie. We’ve got lots of goodies in store.
In Victorian society, members of the “weaker sex” were believed to be inferior to their male counterparts. Instinctively nurturing, inherently dainty, and biologically ordained for child rearing, women were unsuited to more demanding tasks like critical thinking. Or murder.
Shooting, stabbing, and bludgeoning—the preferred methods of most murderous Victorians—were acts far too vulgar and taxing to be committed by a woman. But as chemicals like arsenic gained popularity in households across Europe for their claimed benefits ranging from rat killer (effective) to sexual stimulant (questionable), women suddenly had the ability to cause very deadly “accidents.” After all, who among us hasn’t confused strychnine for sugar in the kitchen?
The ensuing high-profile trials captivated the Victorian masses. The revelation that women had the capacity to kill was shocking—and what’s more, these homicidal homemakers did it while fulfilling their duties as respectable ladies, cheerfully baking decadent cakes for their husbands.
So if you find yourself with an unwanted spouse or a pesky ex-lover who just won’t go away, consider taking a page from these women’s recipe books. Word has it, they’re killer.
Marie Lafarge (1840)—Single at the ancient age of twenty-three, Marie Capelle was arranged to wed Charles Lafarge via a marriage broker hired by her uncle. She found him both ugly and uncouth, but went along with it on account of a promised “palatial estate” in the French countryside. When the estate turned out to be rat-infested and inexplicably damp, she quickly regretted her decision.
Charles soon went to Paris for business, so Marie allegedly sent him a passionate love letter, a portrait of herself, and a seven-layer cake chock-full of poison. He fell violently ill and continued to experience conveniently cholera-like symptoms upon his return home, where Marie lovingly prepared him cups of eggnog fortified with arsenic until he died.
Suspicious of poisoning, Charles’s mother requested an investigation and learned that Marie had purchased arsenic on two occasions: once before mailing the cake to Paris, and a second time before Charles returned home. Marie claimed she’d used it to make a rat-killing paste, but the “poison” in the nooks and crannies of her still rat-infested home turned out to be nothing but flour and water. The court sentenced Marie to life in prison, where she wrote a memoir insisting on her innocence.
Madeleine Smith (1857)—Notoriously beautiful Glasgow socialite Madeleine Smith was in the midst of a steamy affair with local clerk Emile L’Angelier when her father arranged for her to marry a wealthier and more “suitable” man. Emile was overcome with jealousy and threatened to make their passionate letters public. Unwilling to risk the advantageous marriage, Madeleine allegedly invited her former lover to discuss the predicament over a cup of hot cocoa. When he refused to return the letters, she simply added an extra ingredient to his mug.
The next day, Emile was found dead with a stomach full of arsenic—the very substance the town chemist testified he’d sold Madeleine the day before. Luckily for her, the prosecution had no evidence of the alleged late-night rendezvous or that Madeleine had administered the poison. The jury was forced to return the uniquely Scottish verdict of “not proven,” and Madeleine went on to marry two very suitable husbands.
Christiana Edmunds (1870)—After moving to the seaside town of Brighton, Christiana Edmunds found herself lonely and began to focus her attentions on marriage. Fortunately for her, the town had a fetching doctor named Charles Beard. Unfortunately, he had a wife and three children. A real problem-solver, Christiana laced a bag of chocolate creams with strychnine, then delivered the gift to the Beard family. When Mrs. Beard politely declined, Christiana opened the bag and shoved one directly into her rival’s mouth.
Noticing a bitter taste, the doctor’s wife spit it out and recounted the tale to her husband, who confronted Christiana. Determined to prove her innocence, Christiana concocted an elaborate plan to cast blame on the local confectioner. She hired errand boys to purchase chocolates from his counter, injected them with strychnine, then instructed the boys to return them to the store. As the lethal candies were re-sold, tourists and townspeople alike fell ill in large numbers, and the death of a four-year-old boy prompted a full investigation. The illness was swiftly traced back to the chocolatier, and then to Christiana—who spent the rest of her days in a mental hospital and never once showed remorse for her sickly sweet crimes.
Misc cake content:
Listen: Aliza and Tanya were on Cherry Bombe’s podcast The Future of Food Is You talking all things Cake Zine with host Abena Anim-Somuah, including a sneak peek of Tough Cookie.
Buy: Bread and Roses, a new cookbook from baker Rose Wilde who shared an excellent semolina chocolate chip cookie recipe with us earlier this year.
Read: “Snacking bakes” aren’t just a modern trend—they’re timeless.
Cook: Pati Jinich’s recipe for pan de muerto.
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