Helen Jewett was a girl of the town (which is to say a prostitute) who was murdered with a hatchet in New York in 1836. The case made a sensation in the newspapers of the time, and a nameless printer (nameless to avoid arrest on obscenity charges, since merely mentioning prostitution could get an author and printer in a heap of trouble) came out with a little book to capitalize on the widespread interest:
An Authentic Biography of the Late Helen Jewett. a girl of the town, who was murdered on the 10th of April, 1836: together with a full and accurate account of the circumstances connected with that event. By a gentleman fully acquainted with her history. New York: 1836.
Aside from the gruesome details of the murder, what seems to have given the case such interest was the character of the victim. She was remarkable for her quick wit; more recent readers may be reminded of Mae West. Here are two stories from that little book that illustrate the kind of woman Helen Jewett was.
Upon one occasion, at a house in this city where she was boarding, she had a quarrel with a foolish fellow who frequented the house. He got exceedingly angry, and drawing a pistol, presented it to her breast. Without being in the least agitated, she instantly struck the pistol from his hand, and with her bright eyes flashing fire, in tones calm and clear, indicative of the strongest contempt, she said to him, “You poor contemptible libel upon manhood! You have done what would disgrace the meanest coward that walks the street. You must see, therefore, the necessity of making an immediate apology for such brutal conduct.” Her opponent declared he would do no such thing. “Then,” said Helen, “you must see the necessity I am under of pulling your nose.” Suiting the action to the word, she took the gentleman’s proboscis in her fingers, and tweaked it in no gentle style. (Page 9.)
She was once up before one of our Courts as a witness in a case in which the woman with whom she boarded was a party. The counsel, Mr. F. J., who cross-examined her, asked her a number of impertinent and irrelevant questions, and among the rest, whether there were not many gentlemen in the habit of visiting the house.
“Yes.”
“Well, what did they visit the house for?”
“To see the girls.”
“But what did they want of the girls?”
“I believe there is no one better qualified than yourself to answer that question, as I have observed you frequently among our visitors: will you be so kind as to save me the trouble of answering the question, and communicate to the Court your own experience upon the subject.”—The learned counsel concluded he had caught a Tartar, and backed out of the scrape, though with rather a bad grace. (Page 10.)