In March 1853, in Fellin, Ludwig Eck took to wife the widow of his closest friend. Two coffins had preceded these nuptials: that of his first wife, who passed in July, followed by that of the locksmith Merksch, carried off in September. The physicians had assigned a name to each malady. The marriage, however, gave an altogether different name to the talk of the town.
In the small Livonian town of Fellin, two neighbors had formed so close an attachment that Ludwig Eck soon came and went in the locksmith Merksch’s household as though he were of the blood. Eck was a man of some forty years; Merksch was nearing fifty. Merksch, an industrious and cheerful artisan, had married Anna Weierberg, twenty years of age, by whom he had two children. Eck, a shoemaker by trade, had married a widow senior to himself, the proprietress of a private convalescent home. Their domestic peace had long since soured into acrimonious quarrels.
Eck had frequented the Merksch home well before suspicion threw its shadow over them. He called often, laughed with the little ones, and lingered beside Anna. His own wife, eaten by jealousy, reproached him bitterly for these visits. The servant Reet Kriner, who was in the Ecks’ service, recounted having seen him kiss the young neighbor, at times feigning to embrace the child seated upon her lap. Merksch himself seemed utterly void of distrust toward his companion. He opened his door to Eck and placed complete confidence in him.
In the spring of 1852, Madame Eck fell ill. The sufferer’s condition declined steadily until her demise on July 19. Dropsy was alleged to be the cause. Throughout her sickness, Eck had tended her and administered the draughts. The physician, Carlblom, visited her but infrequently. The faithful maid, Reet, was dismissed at the very onset of the affliction and replaced by another domestic. To Reet, the dying woman had whispered that she would perish not of her disease, but “at the hands of others.”
Two months after Madame Eck’s passing, Merksch was in his turn struck down. Violent stomach pains, followed by agonizing sensations in the throat and chest, confined him to his bed for eight days. He was consumed by an unquenchable thirst and could find no rest. His wife and Eck ministered to him; when Anna was detained by the work of the inn, Eck administered the medicines. The locksmith died on September 19. His death was ascribed to paralysis of the lungs.
Mourning was brief. Anna Merksch removed to Eck’s house; he was appointed her curator. In March 1853, six months after his friend had been laid in the earth, Eck wed her. A child was born of this union the following year. The townspeople, who had murmured at their intimacy, fell silent. The town seemed to have closed the book upon the two graves.
In May 1854, Karl Wachoffsky, the son of Madame Eck’s first marriage, was escorted from Saint Petersburg to Fellin for military levy. Passing through Dorpat, he declared to the officer in charge of him that his stepfather had murdered his mother. He cited Eck’s brother, Johann, as his witness. The latter had likewise denounced Ludwig, but the deep-seated enmity and financial disputes dividing the brothers rendered the accusation doubtful. The initial inquiry revealed glaring contradictions; Johann had not been present in Fellin on the dates when he professed to have witnessed the administration of the poison. There the matter might well have rested.
Yet the prosecution was resumed, and the grave of Madame Eck was opened. The examining physicians found the internal viscera remarkably preserved, whereas the face was blackened and the limbs desiccated like those of a mummy. Chemical analysis detected arsenic within the organs. The medical experts concluded that she had absorbed small, repeated doses over an extended period; while dropsy might have been present, they regarded chronic arsenical intoxication as the highly probable cause of death.
Isolated details now assumed a graver weight. Reet had recounted that Eck kept powders in a locked commode and administered them to his wife despite her entreaties. Another visitor, Madame Seedorf, testified that she had seen him force a white draught upon the patient while the latter begged him to desist. The wretched woman writhed in agony, pleading for the physician or the apothecary to be summoned. Eck reportedly replied that both had departed for the countryside. The apothecary Schöler subsequently testified that he had been present in Fellin the entire day. Eck denied ever having hindered the call.
The most painful testimony fell from the lips of Julie Wachoffsky, who had assisted in nursing the sufferer. After her sister-in-law’s death, she had initially preserved silence, having promised the deceased to disclose nothing. She now testified that Madame Eck, shortly before breathing her last, had confided that her husband was poisoning her. This deposition tallied with the burning pain, the thirst, the spasms, and the mysterious powders, yet it could not transform circumstantial testimony into direct legal proof of any specific dose.
The second death was thereupon reexamined. Merksch was likewise exhumed. On this occasion, the physicians discovered a massive quantity of arsenic and concluded that death was due to acute poisoning. The widow acknowledged that she and Eck were the only persons who had tended her first husband and given him his draughts. Prior to the burial, Dr. Carlblom had sought leave to examine the deceased man’s throat; Anna had sent word that she preferred he be left in peace. She explained that in doing so she had merely followed the counsel of an acquaintance whose name she could no longer recall.
Further depositions threw light upon the intimacy between the two households. The locksmith Kankewitsch related that on one evening, Eck had ordered three large glasses of punch, then slipped away under the pretext of returning to his infirmary. Following him, the witness had caught sight of Eck and Madame Merksch standing alone in the courtyard. Reet described the jealousy between the two wives, and the stolen kisses Eck concealed behind play with the children. Eck denied any illicit liaison. He admitted having kissed the neighbor woman, but maintained that he had done so in her husband’s presence and solely on festive days.
The brother Johann remained an untrustworthy source. He alleged that in 1851 Ludwig had bought arsenic from a merchant, and that he had subsequently observed his brother stir it into Madame Eck’s tea. Yet his narrative was riddled with contradictions, and he was proved to have lied regarding his movements. The merchant, Schmul Levin, confirmed only that he occasionally sold arsenic for the destruction of rats; he could not identify the buyer with any certainty. It was thus impossible to rely upon this alleged scene as credible evidence.
Eck laid all accusations at Johann’s door, imputing them to a desire for vengeance. He further suggested that Merksch had enemies of his own, though he was unable to name anyone who might have sought his life. The widow was not indicted; the investigators discovered insufficient grounds to charge her with the poisoning of her first spouse. Suspicion fastened solely upon Eck, who had been present at the bedside of both victims, stood to benefit from his first wife’s estate, and had subsequently wed the second.
Yet the outcome was not a conviction. In the account preserved in the Riga collection, the Pitaval explains that Livonian jurisprudence was then bound by a system of formal legal proofs, under which a confession or the congruent testimony of two eyewitnesses was requisite to establish capital guilt. Circumstantial evidence might warrant the gravest suspicion, but could not sustain the judgment of murder demanded by public clamor. The supreme court declared Eck vehemently suspect of both poisonings, yet declined to pronounce his condemnation.
The town, however, took no comfort in so legalistic an evasion. Fifty burghers assembled and voted unanimously to cast Eck out and exile him to Siberia. The imperial authorities confirmed the decree, assigning Tobolsk as his place of banishment. Anna declared that she would follow her husband into exile, accompanied by their infant and her six-year-old daughter; but upon reaching Riga, the children fell grievously ill. She resolved to remain by their side. Eck went forward alone. Years later, a physician from Fellin encountered him in Tobolsk, returned once more to his cobbler’s bench. He had escaped the hangman’s sentence for murder; yet the verdict of his neighbors had irrevocably disposed of the remnant of his days.