The Borden House: Frame by Frame, Part 3

by Kat Koorey

First published in August/September, 2004, Volume 1, Issue 4, The Hatchet: Journal of Lizzie Borden Studies.

The Attic

Bridget’s area of concern was the kitchen, the sink room off the rear hall, the back stairs, the cellar and her attic bedroom. None of her duties included any work in the front part of the house, other than the sweeping, every other week, of the front foyer. When bloody wash water was noticed in the guest room Thursday, which had been John Morse’s refuge Wednesday night, Bridget was asked if she had emptied it. She hadn’t even done that, so ingrained was her habit of never going there. Her domain included the areas both above and below the family. Her servant’s life was lived in the hot kitchen, or 2 floors up or partially underground.

Ascending to that upper story, one actually enters through an open door that is horizontal and resembles a bomb shelter or root cellar door. There is a heavy clasp to lock it flat in place and a large accordion-shaped hasp that holds it open. The house was originally built in 1845 as a two-family tenement. It appears that door’s practical use was probably to hold the precious heat downstairs, to keep it from escaping to the roof. Though there was a stove searched in the front room on the south side, it was likely simply stored there from the time Andrew dismantled the kitchen which became his bedroom. 

The attic area would have been dark even in the day. The doors were kept closed and locked and on that murder day Bridget accompanied the investigating officers upstairs to the third floor under that slanting roof to unlock and show them the “four attics,” as Assistant Marshal Fleet described them. Bridget had the keys.

There are only four windows on that floor, two of which face the backyard. One of these is in the east rear room on the northerly side of the house, which had been Morse’s little cubbyhole from time to time. That was where the hired man would stay too, if he was about the place helping out and it was not occupied. The room is now a bathroom. As you enter, the little wall on the left under an extremely steep ceiling at one time extended further back. There is a little cupboard door there now which seems fascinating and mysterious—conjuring up visions of a secret hiding place.  The other rear window was Bridget’s own, and she seemed to hesitate to choose just which one was hers when shown a photo of the house. She sounded a bit confused and she probably had never seen a photo of the house she lived in before, though surely she had glanced up at her window on those days when she was hanging out the wash.

The only other two windows are at the west end of the house, street side, as this attic area is tucked up under the eaves and therefore the ceiling inside slants drastically. There are no windows in the roof itself, so none along the sides. With the doors to those rooms closed and locked, the only light, in the middle of the brightest day, would have to be a gentle radiation from that tight, enclosed stairway, seeping in and upwards from that single window at the north wall of the master’s stair landing in the hall below.

The ability to scramble up and down those uncarpeted attic steps, in the eerie twilight of any noonday, to and from her own apartment must have become like second nature or else Bridget would need a light and would be using candles or a lamp at all times of the day. That very well might be an expense Andrew Borden would not tolerate. Night lamps would be one thing—like the one that was left for her in the kitchen upon her return Wednesday night from an outing with her friends—but day lamps too? Who knows what the master would allow her, but in his own sitting room in the darkening of the day that same Wednesday, he sat with his wife and brother-in-law John Morse, with no lamp until bedtime. In this age of electricity and flashlights, it is hard to imagine how the placement of a window can make all the difference as one moves about or sits in the darkened gray days of overcast weather. Was the family or servant allowed a lamp in the daytime, even in the cellar?

These “four attics” still exist and are designated each from the other by doors. The floor plan in Leonard Rebello’s book Lizzie Borden Past & Present correctly shows this. At the time of the search, the two rooms that were not bedrooms variously contained three or four trunks and large boxes, and Lizzie’s sealskin sacks hanging, “each one separate.” Bridget’s room had a trunk and a clothes press, or closet, which contained a water tank that is still there just above eye-level, useless it seems, taking up space. It resembles a shoeshine box, with it’s bright solid wooden shape, and is about the size of a double breadbox—the kind that is tall enough to have a shelf. It doesn’t seem to be big enough to supply water to anyone and it’s questionable as to how it worked. It still has a pump-type contraption attached, but it is very hard to imagine how or why something of that size would be needed. Otherwise, there was no running water, or any faucets on the top two floors. That tank did catch the eye of vigilant searchers, however, and it was examined to see if it held any clues or evidence in the murder case. What could have been hidden in there? At least we know they looked—although that was on Saturday!

Poor Bridget only seems to have had two or three dresses, according to Assistant Marshal Fleet, which he admits he did not examine too closely as he threw them on her bed. He did not even open her trunk. He was either not too interested in anything he might find among Bridget’s possessions or possibly, as a British native, it was beneath him to examine or handle the private articles of a lowly Irish maid. Now her bedroom is furnished simply, with bed, nightstand, lamp, chair, trunk, and a crucifix. This latter object hangs from a rail on the wall above the bedstead. The rail is original and may have been a place with nails to hang a garment, a hat or a picture. All the rooms in the attic have small closets, but there is no knowing what might have been kept there in the Borden’s day, as they are not described in the source documents.

There were two trunks that gave trouble up there that Saturday, and the Borden girls were called to assist. One trunk had a spring lock which foiled all the men’s attempts to open it—even Jennings could not fathom it’s release mechanism—which is explained to us by Captain Desmond as he tries to acquit himself at the trial of the failure of the men to get it open. He wouldn’t even admit it was a girl who supplied the missing information: he said it was enough that it was finally opened, but he didn’t know by whom. The other trunk needed a key that wasn’t missing at all, as a sister pointed out—it was hanging on the trunk itself.

When asked if the roof was searched, Marshal Hilliard replied that he “saw Mr. Fleet go up through a scuttle and go in there; he had a lamp with him.” There is a crawl space above the attic. Officer Desmond explained that the Assistant Marshal did go up to the roof itself “and look out there once or twice.” The police searched on Saturday “to the top of the house . . . clear up to the ridge-pole.” The trap door that gives access to this area is in the ceiling above the door to the northwest storage room that is now a bedroom. Years ago a plaque was put there describing the fact that when Ron Evans, Ken Souza and George Quigley opened that trap in August, 1995, two dead pigeons were found. I suppose the symbolism gave them enough shivers to propel them into having a plaque engraved and hung there.

All of Bridget’s space had been violated, and she had been required to participate, leading this gang of men about the house, unlocking doors and locking them back up again, offering her own room and closet and trunk for search. Her bed was examined, her clothes tossed aside, she was questioned repeatedly, and she may have been made to feel under suspicion as well as put in her place as a servant who was a woman and Irish.

She had been up since a quarter after six, arising with a sick headache, toiled over the breakfast ritual of cooking and dishes, been ill in the yard, and made to wash windows. During what little rest she managed in her room that morning, she was rudely startled by Lizzie’s shout up the stairs which opened a nightmare world that changed her life and situation forever. The master was dead, and she was sent scurrying around the neighborhood informing people and asking for help. She was sent up the front stairs to discover her mistress and friend, Abby Borden, mutilated and murdered. She had become the person who showed the invading army of people around the various rooms, and instructed to take these officers, who might be sweaty and pungent after their efforts, down to tour the cellar, to give them knowledge of the whereabouts of all the hatchets and axes in the house.

Bridget led the men to the weapons and that night she went away, to stay across the street. She hoped never to come back. Morse probably took over his little room among the eaves as it is referred to later as the room “where John Morse had slept since” by Fleet during the preliminary hearing. Bridget was brought back on Friday and suffered one more night in that attic room, in that house with the reeking bloody bodies of the dead Bordens. Bridget came to do the work, as there were people showing up at the door Friday and preparations for Saturday’s funeral. After Saturday was over, though, she left, never to sleep there again.

TO BE CONTINUED IN OCTOBER.