There is a popular saying that promotes the idea that not all heroes wear capes. In 1881, Agnes Daubert of Pottsville, Pennsylvania, proved that is true.
Born on November 11, 1854, Agnes was the daughter of Jesse Thompson and eventually married Thomas Daubert, having three children. But it was what happened to Agnes on the night of November 18, 1881, that would result in a most cruel end to the woman’s life of twenty-seven years, but would also show that she was willing to sacrifice her own life for that of her child’s.
Instead of trying to summarize Mrs. Daubert’s fate, the story of her death is presented in a rather detailed way in the November 19, 1881, issue of the Reading Eagle. To my knowledge, the article is out of copyright due to its age. Please know that I’m rewriting the text verbatim, but I’m adding paragraph breaks to make its reading a bit easier.
Horrible Fate of a Pottsville Woman — Her Body One Mass of Crisped and Seared Flesh
POTTSVILLE, Nov. 19.—A horrible accident occurred at this place last evening by which a woman was roasted to death. The particulars are about as follows:
About 7.15 o’clock the family of Augustes Umholtz, living on Coal, near Mauch Chunk street, heard a loud cry of “murder” coming from the adjoining house, occupied by the family of Thomas Daubert, baggage-master at the Philadelphia and Reading depot. Thinking that the cry had been made in jest, no attention was paid to it. On repetition of the cry, Mr. Umholtz placed his ear against the wall, and heard again the cry “murder,” accompanied by that of “fire,” and the exclamation, “Oh, my God,” seeming to come from cellar of Daubert’s residence.
He ran to a door of this cellar, and saw a bright light through a crack in the door. He tried in vain to burst the door in. A stranger burst in the panels of the door, revealing an awful sight.
Mrs. Daubert stood in the middle of the cellar a mass of flames, which leaped above her head and licked the wood-work of the ceiling. Umholtz obtained a pail of water and dashed it over the shrieking woman, who sank upon the ground. Every stitch of her clothing was burned to ashes. Her body was a mass of crisped and seared flesh. She moaned wildly as she was carried upstairs and placed on a bed. Her arms were burned to the bone. The flesh was hard and black. Her face was burned to a yellowish whiteness.
Her sufferings were terrible, but her first words were: “How is the child?” She appeared greatly relieved when told that the child was uninjured. Her reference to the child gave a clue to the manner in which the accident occurred. She was ascending a narrow stairway leading to the upper part of the house when she stepped upon a sleigh bell with which the children had been playing. In one hand she carried a glass coal oil lamp. She carried the child in her arms. In her efforts to save herself from falling she threw the lamp from her. It fell upon the stairs and was broken into fragments. The oil ignited and in a moment her clothing was in flames. With great presence of mind she threw the child from her. The baby fell upon the kitchen floor unhurt. The helpless mother screamed “murder” and rushed into the kitchen, but as the child, rising from the floor, toddled towards her, she ran into the cellar. There she stood, encircled by fire, compelled even to breathe it, until the flames, having no food but the naked flesh, died of inanition.
Death terminated her sufferings at 20 minutes after 11 o’clock.
Deceased was a daughter of the late Jesse Thompson, who died a couple of years ago. She was the mother of three children.
