You may recognise the fiery Victorian female detective character, Eliza Scarlet, from the Irish-produced television show Miss Scarlet and the Duke. The series, filmed in Dublin and set in 1880s London, boasts a cast, including Evan McCabe and Roisín Murphy, and was produced by ShinAwil.
However, you might be intrigued to discover that women detectives indeed were prevalent, working within the confines of the ports, streets and post offices of Victorian Ireland. I embarked on a project in 2012 with the aim of unearthing the histories of 19th-century women who collaborated with the police force and ‘private enquiry agencies’ (often managed by ex-officers) to seek out concealed information. My resources were 19th-century newspaper ads, police archives and court records. This research opened my eyes to a different perspective a time where women were aiding the police in apprehending a wide range of criminals, from counterfeiters and thieves to fraudulent mystics. This was a time where ordinary Victorians employed the services of ‘private enquiry agents’ to fend off criminals, locate missing individuals or to gather evidence required for divorce proceedings.
Through my research, I found that the contribution of women to detective services in Victorian times was pivotal. These women would tail suspects surreptitiously, infiltrate premises by impersonating a servant, lodger or trusted confidante. They had the ability to search women for concealed and stolen items, and they could gain access to places like fortune-telling circles and unlicensed abortion clinics, which men couldn’t infiltrate.
Victorian female detectives from real life were not always aligned with moral righteousness or the interests of other women. However, their role in exposing and resolving intricate cases was noteworthy. A British army chaplain’s wife, Fanny Hodson, went undercover to investigate ‘baby farmers’: women who claimed to provide care for infants born out of wedlock, but often these infants would die due to neglect. She believed that these women were essentially contract killers, exploiting the desperation of mothers who couldn’t care for their infants and the social stigma around illegitimate births. To investigate these offences, Hodson impersonated a pregnant woman seeking the services of a ‘baby farmer’, infiltrated suspected households and collaborated with the police to bring the offenders to justice.
During the Victorian era, female detectives emerged as action-packed heroines on stage, charming up to 4,000 spectators each evening. These women, much like today’s Jennifer Lawrence, were charismatic shape-shifters, dispensing well-deserved punishment to men who tried to cheat women out of their inheritances or confine them to mental institutions. Fin audience members, these women were like avenging angels against abusers and deceivers.
In 1868, a play titled “The Female Detective” took centre-stage at Queen’s Theatre in Dublin, featuring Lizzie Willmore as the lead. The drama was inspired by a grim real-life incident from 1819; in this Irish tale, a gentleman named John Scanlan from Co Limerick was accused of murdering Ellen Hanley, a mere 15-year-old girl from a local farming family, who was renowned for her beauty. After reaching a romantic cul-de-sac, Scanlan arranged for Hanley’s death: his boatman took her on a deadly boat ride, clubbing her to unconsciousness with a musket before binding her and submerging her in a lake. Other literary adaptations of this chilling event include Gerald Griffin’s “The Collegians” and Dion Boucicault’s “The Colleen Bawn.” In “The Female Detective,” the malevolent husband who plots the drowning of his wife in the lake is outwitted by the quick-witted female investigator, averting his plans to marry his wife’s sister, seize her wealth, and further contribute to a bleak cycle of domestic abuse. This portrayal of the female detective busting crime and securing justice for women came a good twenty years before the birth of Sherlock Holmes.
However, the real-life existence of Victorian-era female detectives came with a lot less glamour and sombre ethical dilemmas. These women were often hired to spy on a spouse’s extramarital affairs amidst domestic conflicts, organise adulterous encounters to confirm the spouse’s disloyalty and to secure a less expensive divorce. Keeping an eye on political ‘elections’ also emerged as a routine duty, where female detectives were called upon to uncover damaging information about political rivals or their campaign strategies.
The Spectator interviewed the leader of a private investigative firm in 1893 and highlighted some noteworthy details in one of their reports. This individual shared that during the 1886 general election, he placed about 700 agents throughout the nation to ensure the electoral process was well-managed and monitor the activities of both allies and foes of their clients. He emphasised that their operations didn’t only involve men, and in reality, women made up a substantial part of their workforce, barring management roles.
Meanwhile, in Ireland, the use of women as political spies elicited significant reservations. In 1884, a captivating woman, a so-called “female detective spy”, created quite a fuss when she arrived in Dublin and lodged at two top-tier hotels. She was known to make encouraging remarks about dynamite and was a strong supporter of the then prevailing cause. Timothy Healy, an Irish nationalist and Member of Parliament, discussed this development in the parliament with the Home Secretary William Harcourt, referring to this woman as a “female agent” assigned in Ireland by the home office. Newspapers identified her as “Mrs Detective Tyler”, but Harcourt denied any familiarity with the issue.
During this period, when the tension between the advocates and opponents of Ireland’s political independence from England was particularly high, speculation was rampant. The potential of Britain employing female undercover operatives from unionist factions who could act as instigators to probe treasonous behaviour from Irish politicians caused an uproar among Irish MPs. Reports mentioned that female sleuths played a role in apprehending Fenian, James Stephens in 1865 after they tracked down his wife, forcing him to abandon his hiding place. Women labelled as “detective searchers” within the Irish harbour customs were also successful in seizing illicit arms arriving from the USA. Additionally, a headline in 1888, “Another Revolver in a Bustle”, told the tale of Catherine Murphy from Cork entangled in a controversy when discovered possessing a firearm and several bullets which were hidden amidst the frills of her attire, upon her arrival from Boston.
On occasion, females played a significant role in exposing political conspiracies. In the year 1887, a case known as the “Parnell Papers” required the attention of the Westminster Detective Agency. These documents seemingly pointed towards Charles Stewart Parnell, an Irish MP, and his alleged involvement in the Phoenix Park murders, which resulted in the killing of two English officers in Dublin. These papers had been transferred to the Times of London by ex-Fenian, Richard Pigott. Female detectives are believed to have closely followed Pigott, and ultimately revealed his scandalous forgery of the letters, marking an unsuccessful character attack on Parnell and the climax of a prolonged feud.
The notion of female detectives playing a role in counter-terrorist surveillance was as thrilling for Victorian spectators as it is for us these days. Florence Marryat’s suspense-filled novel, In the Name of Liberty (1897), introduces a neglected wife named Jane Farrell, abandoned by her husband, who lands a role in the Criminal Investigation Department. She is assigned to monitor potential subjects of an Irish bombing plot. Located at the riverside garden of the Earl of Innisfale’s mansion during a vibrant party, Farrell undertakes her counter-terrorist duties.
The bomber is revealed to be none other than Farrell’s husband, Maurice, a member of a Fenian-anarchist fellowship. Farrell takes hold of the bomb and tosses it into the goldfish pond, causing an explosion harmless to people but lethal to the fish. And yet, she covers for her husband, keeping his true identity from her peers on the police force. The narrative in Marryat’s tale is gripping and dramatises the struggle within matrimony, portraying it as a clash between the detective wife and her terrorist husband. Published in the Belfast Weekly News, the story illuminated the turbulent relations between Ireland and Britain.
Real-life female investigators from the Victorian era would likely cast an amused glance at the sexual liberty and impressive wardrobe sported by Miss Scarlet of television fame. Many belonged to the working class and were mothers. Their employment often mirrored what we now term as “zero-hour contracts”, balancing their investigative work with theatre bookings, office jobs or tailoring. They were more likely to encounter bleakness rather than glitz. Yet, through the melodramatic dime novel, they would have seen the allure of the fantasy of women’s empowerment encapsulated by this mythical female detective: her audacity to don men’s attire (quite literally), ability to masquerade as a man, or to knock one down. The Victorian female detective glimpsed a divergent future through the keyhole – a future where women were allowed the freedom to take control of their lives, to tread where they wished and to possess knowledge they longed for. Undoubtedly, this was a worthwhile case to chase.
Sara Lodge, a senior lecturer in 19th-century literature and culture at the University of St Andrews, Scotland, has published ‘The Mysterious Case of the Victorian Female Detective’ through Yale University Press.