The sad story of Mr Mikkish

On 30 March 1890 Rudolph Mikkisch, who was living off Tottenham Court Road, told his wife that he was going out for a short walk. He did not return and four days later, on Thursday 3 April, Mrs Mikkisch received a letter from the Ongar union workhouse informing her that he was in temporary residence there. As Easter was imminent, she was unable to visit immediately but on Monday 7 April had telegraphed her intention to visit him that day, only to be informed that he had left the workhouse three days earlier.

What happened next can be pieced together from evidence given at the coroner's inquest. On Saturday 5 April, the day after he had left Ongar workhouse, he was found by a local police sergeant acting strangely on the Chelmsford road a mile from Danbury. After 20 minutes unsuccessfully trying to engage him in conversation, he flagged down a passing cart and took him to a nearby public house. He purchased tuppence worth of bread and cheese and gingerade for the wanderer and then took him to the relieving officer. Both decided that Mr Mikkisch was not intoxicated but that, on account of his strange behavior, he should be admitted to the Chelmsford union workhouse for close observation.

At the workhouse he was quiet and cooperative, and gave his name and address. He was provided with another meal, and put in a dormitory with nine other men who were asked to keep an eye on him. The coroner, with the advantage of hindsight, was clearly critical of the workhouse master for making this decision, and felt that Mr Mikkisch should have been admitted to the infirmary which was staffed all night. However there had been no free beds that night. The master had checked the ward at 10.30pm, and all was quiet.

At 9am on Sunday the master was informed that Mr Mikkisch had been seen by his fellow inmates climbing over the fence which separated the workhouse from the railway line. The final part of the story was provided by the driver of the 9.17am train from Chelmsford to London who, in spite of repeated warnings from the locomotive whistle, was unable to avoid running down and killing the unfortunate man at Margaretting.

A little more background was provided at the inquest. Mr Mikkisch was born in Poland, was aged 44 and had been employed as a journeyman cabinet maker. However he had been unable to work for the last 12 months due to "general paralysis" and had wandered off in a similar fashion several weeks earlier, ending up at Farnham in Surrey. Clearly he did not suffer from paralysis in the modern sense, having climbed a fence to escape from the Chelmsford workhouse, and then walking about two miles down the railway track before being knocked down at Margaretting. At that period, "general paralysis" was a cover-all for the devastating cerebral effects of untreated tertiary syphilis, and this is almost certainly what the brief – but unfortunate – visitor to the Ongar workhouse was suffering from.

Several points of interest arise from this story. The use of the telegraph is surprising as it seems unlikely that the Ongar workhouse was connected at that date. Were messages sent to Ongar railway station, the nearest telegraph office as far as I know? The Danbury police sergeant was commendably responsible in dealing with a confused man, and in providing him with a bread and cheese meal. Though this was acknowledged by the coroner at the inquest, I wonder if the sergeant was reimbursed for his expenditure. The relieving officer also acted responsibly by ensuring that the confused wander was taken care of, particularly at a time when wandering vagrants were not at all unusual on our roads. The coroner himself was extremely thorough in investigating the circumstances of Mr Mikkisch's death, even if he was a little hard on the master of the Chelmsford workhouse for what he clearly felt was the inadequate level of care provided.