A GHOST STORY? EXETER, 1845.

The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette of the first of November, 1845 reported this mystery:

"On Saturday night, Mr. Lang, a master mariner residing in this city, visited the Union Inn in Waterbeer-street, at about a quarter to eleven, and partook of a glass of gin and peppermint in a little parlour at the back, which looked out onto a small court. 

"Whilst in this situation his attention, he says, was attracted by something going on in the court; and on going out he saw - either in a dream or in reality - four men with a full-sized coffin, which they let down into a well.  The sturdy seaman was rather frightened, but did not address them; and on going home he told what he had seen..

"On Sunday evening a formal communication was made to the authorities, and a body of police marched from the station house, silent as the grave itself,  through Parliament- street to the Union Inn, the keeper of which, on being informed of their object, indignantly denied any participation in the foul deed imputed.  His visitors, however, proceeded to the search, piloted by Mr.Lang.

"When arrived at the well, the appearance of the boarding by which the mouth of it is covered, was a perfect poser,  as it had not apparently been removed for years. However, under the joint exertions of such a force the woodwork was raised in a twinkling, and all gazed in wonder and in silence into the abyss beneath.  To descend into it, even after a coffin, was testing the ardour and  devotedness of a policeman a little too severely,  - besides the officers were arrayed in their Sunday uniforms;  and under the exigencies of the occasion they deemed it prudent to send for Mr. John Rouse.   Mr. Rouse, jun., presently came, and found that there was 18 feet of water in the well, which has been disused so long that the water drawn up had anything other than an odiferous quality.

"The police were not satisfied, and the search was pursued.  To the end of a long line was fastened a heavy hammer, and the turbid water was disturbed by it being let down.  This was rattled about and a vapour was emitted such as might have formed a very reasonable excuse for men being driven from their post;  but the 'duty men'  who were here, endured the stench bravely.

"At length, however, the hammer struck against 'something' and 'this must be the coffin for sure.'  All were now on the qui vive.  A grapple was obtained; but instead of a coffin, up came an old and ponderous lintel, that probably for years had lain undisturbed at the bottom of the well!!!

"Those on duty of course, laughed not, - this would have been indecorous, - but others, who did not conceive themselves under an equal obligation, roared outright.  Mr. Lang looked all astonishment but still adhered to his statement, nor does anything appear capable of removing the strong impression from his mind, of the perfect reality of what he declares he saw."

Make of it what you will!

Did policemen really have Sunday uniforms?

Gin and peppermint sounds worth a try!

THE INCORRIGIBLES, EXETER, 1844.

 From The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette, 27th January 1844:

" 'Ah, Foweracres,' said the Mayor to an inspector of the night force in waiting of that name - 'I see you have a set of incorrigibles again.'

"The 'incorrigibles' to which his Worship alluded were produced by the officer, and consisted - not of impracticable fish-women or shameless female adults  of another class grown hoary in obscenity and degradation - but of four juveniles, who gave their names of  Lydia Worth, Harriet Peters, Edward Tucket, and  George Hetherington.

"The inspector stated that he was on duty in Guinea-street at a late hour on Saturday night,  when he perceived several boys in Mr. Pope's door-way.  He went to the spot, when they ran away.   On opening the door and going into the passage, he found two of the prisoners - a boy and girl - standing there.  They could give no satisfactory account of themselves, and he took them into custody.  On examining further he found the other two also together.

"Inspector Norcombe said that Peters was nearly drunk.

"The Mayor - How near should you suppose?

"Norcombe - So near, your Worship, that she was that howdacious, as when I axed her her name, she looked up into my face as brassy as could be, and said she didn't know she had one.

"After some consulation among the Bench, the Mayor stated that the prisoners, having been in custody since their apprehension, would be discharged; but told them their faces and characters were well known,  and cautioned them to take care how they appeared there again.

 "- We must confess that a slight infliction of corporal punishment, in the shape of a severe private whipping, would, on the boys especially, have had a judicious effect."

These four children had fallen foul of the police by committing what would seem to have been a pretty harmless trespass and little Harriet was 'nearly drunk'.  They had spent a week in police custody, been brought before the Police Court at Exeter Guildhall and reprimanded and made fun of by the 'Chief Magistrate'.   The Tory Gazette was of the opinion that they had got of lightly and that they ought to have been severely whipped.

The same newspaper clearly also enjoyed taking the mickey out of the police inspectors.  So that's all right!

I haven't heard 'brassy' used to mean impudent for a while and a while.

A SMUGGLERS' TRICK, BUDLEIGH SALTERTON, 1843.

From The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette 4th March1843:

 "A report was circulated about half-past eight in the evening of the 23rd ult., that a man had fallen over the cliffs, and accordingly strict search was made by the light of lanterns, torches, &c., for the supposed mutilated remains of the unfortunate individual: but as none were found, it became suspected that it was a smuggler's trick, in order to decoy the Preventive Service men from their posts; these functionaries have consequently been on the qui vive during the past week.

"On Wednesday last, they succeeded in creeping up 58 4-gallon kegs of spirit,  and yesterday (Thursday), 46 more.  It is supposed that the crew who sunk the kegs, have met with a watery grave,  as their boat, and two hats, have been picked up, and they have not since been heard of    They consisted of three Frenchmen and two men named William Russell and Richard Mashell, both of Beer.  The boat was driven ashore at Paignton."

Was this decoying not a smugglers' trick worthy of Doctor Syn?  From their ship the smugglers must have smiled to see the flickering lights of the searchers for 'mutilated remains'.

The excisemen used a 'creeper' to creep up the sunken kegs of spirit.  A creeper was a grapnel used for dragging the bottom of the sea.  

It must have been a risky business in the mad March days, both sinking kegs down and creeping them up and it looks like the Beer smugglers (their names already known to the Gazette's corespondent!) and their three French colleagues ran out of luck in a lumpy sea. 

Come to think of it,  the smuggling business must have been a rare example of close Anglo-French co-operation.  Here they were, literally, in the same boat and presumably communicating in Franglais and, it would seem, dying together.

A HORRID MOLROW, EXETER, 1842

" '....All are asleep, snug and warm in their beds

For a horrid molrow to be heard on the leads....,'

".... is extremely inconvenient.   -   A sun-burnt Apollo was accordingly charged with a breach of the peace, in having 'sung to the listening moon' on the previous night.  It did not transpire whether the defendant was at the time engaged in serenading the charms of some fair inhabitant,  or whether he was under the influence of liquor; though it was the opinion of the watchman (no indifferent judge in such matters) that he was celebrating the praises of Bacchus.  And as the officer thought that 'it wasn't by no means proper' that the gen'l'man should select midnight and the public streets for his vocal exertions,  the unlucky songster was confined to the Station House. 

"He was however dismissed , with an intimation that another offence of a similar nature would prove injurious to his liberties as well as  suppressive of his nocturnal rites."

This, from The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette court report of 28th May 1842, leads one to believe that the Victorian watchman was rather more efficient in dealing with street-drinkers than his modern counterpart, the Exeter policewoman, or man.  Every weekend midnight, and not only, the High Street rings with the sounds of drunken sojourners in a passion (or out of one) and such behaviour, in my opinion, is not by no means proper!

We tolerate the intolerable!

A 'molrow' is here a misquotation within a somewhat inept misquotation from contemporary bad verses by one 'Davus'.(Bentley's Miscellany Volume 9)  'Davus' has a 'molrowing'.   I can't find either of these wonderful words in my dictionaries but it looks to me like it should rather mean a row inflicted on us by women. -   Well, we get plenty of that too on the streets of Exeter!

I wonder if 'sun-burnt Apollo' might be a 'racial slur'.  I sincerely hope not!

POTTED EELS AND DUCKINGS, EXETER, 1841.

The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette of 22nd May, 1841, gave a brief, routine report of the feasting enjoyed by the Bluecoat boys at the 'perambulation of the bounds' of the city of Exeter, an annual event which has been well documented in the local histories:

"On Tuesday morning last, the Right Worshipful the Mayor, with the High Sheriff, Aldermen and Council and officers of the Corporation, accompanied by the Blue Coat boys, made their annual perambulation of the bounds of the city, observing the customary forms.

"The party, after the fresh air and exercise, enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast at Bowden's Cowley Bridge Inn, the far-famed potted eels of this suburban resting place, with other etceteras, forming part of the handsome and substantial repast.  

"After the close of the perambulation, the boys - some few of whom had undergone the refreshing process of 'ducking' - were, with the 'Captain,' provided with a sumptuous dinner, and a moderate quantity of wholesome ale, -when 'the cloth being removed,' the healths of the Queen, the Mayor, the Trustees of St. John's Hospital, the worthy master of the school (Mr. Gould,) &c. were drunk and duly honoured."

For the charity boys, some of whom would have been very little boys, there was a 'sumptuous' breakfast and a 'sumptuous' dinner with wholesome ale, - and all in one day! There's glory for you!

The duckings, (in the rivers Exe and Creedy?) would, I guess, in the distant past have served the same purpose as the beatings elsewhere, that is, to make sure the city's bounds were accurately remembered by the next generation

The famous Cowley Bridge Inn eels would have been caught (with worm-clots?) in the two rivers and potted at the inn.

   

  

THE NAUGHTY PLACE, EXETER, 1840.

Mary Radford, ten, and her eight year-old sister, Elizabeth, were returning home from Sunday school when John Carpenter, 'a full grown man', spoiled their bonnets by throwing dirt on them

The Radfords brought John Carpenter before the Exeter Police Court.  Little Mary Radford had to give evidence.  The Mayor of Exeter and Mr Blackall, a magistrate, examined Mary in the serious matter of the nature of an oath: The newspaper reported the exchange:

"Mr. Blackall. -You are going to take an oath to speak the truth.  Who will punish you if what you say is false? 

The Child looked point blank at the Hon. Magistrate and made no reply.

Mr. Blackall. - Will any body punish you if you say what is false?

The Child. -  Yes Sir.

Mr. Blackall. -  Who?

The Child.  -  The Devil.

Mr. Blackall. - No, not the Devil - God Almighty will punish you.

The Mayor. - What book is that?

The Child turned it over, as if prepared to hazard a conjecture from its shape.

The Mayor. - You must not look at it.  What book is it?

The Child - Common Prayer Book.

The Mayor. No it is not a Common Prayer Book. - You believe it is a religious book? - Yes.

The Mayor. - And by kissing it, you bind yourself to speak the truth? - Yes.

The Mayor.. -  And if you do not speak the truth where do you expect to go?

The Child. - To the Naughty Place."

Thus satisfied, the Magistrates  proceeded to hear Mary's evidence and to try the case.  John Carpenter said he was ' innocent as a babby' but he was fined one shilling for the assault and half-a-crown damages together with expenses which he refused to pay.  He went to prison for a week.

The oath, as a guarantee that people will tell the truth, is seen here, in my opinion, for what it is - altogether  ridiculous.   Nowadays it is still taken but, of course, atheists &c. are provided for and kissing the Bible has gone out of fashion and no one, I hope, gives witnesses more or less credence because they fear neither Almighty God nor the Devil.

Source: The Western Times, 5th  December 1840.

 

A DISAGREEABLE OBJECT, EXETER, 1838

"LIVE WITHIN YOUR MEANS! - A friend called upon a gentleman residing in St David's parish, a few days since, and on surveying the scenery around enquired  'What building is that?'  To which the gentleman replied,  'It is the St. Thomas' Union or a Workhouse.'

"'O!' said the friend, 'then your property is injured many hundreds a year for having such a disagreeable object in sight.'

"'I differ from you,' answered the gentleman,  'I think it is a great benefit to my estate; for when I see that building, it teaches me a useful lesson; it preaches me a better sermon on prudence than I ever heard from the pulpit.  I tell you what it says - LIVE WITHIN YOUR MEANS.'"`  

This curious snippet of  conversation (did it ever take place?) was reported in The Devon and Exeter Gazette  of 10th September 1838.

The gentleman sounds to me like a cherry-lipped moraliser.

The friend sounds like an estate-agent.

The Micauberian virtue prudence was to be much extolled in the Victorian Age. (This was published just after Victoria's coronation.)  If you were not prudent you could end  in the 'Union' or, like Wlkins Micauber did, in the debtors' prison.

We don't hear so much about prudence these days. 

A SWELL OF THE SWEETEST EXPRESSION, EXETER, 1837.

In 1837, Saint Mary's Steps church in Exeter had a new organ.  It was supplied by an Exeter builder (of organs!), Mr Brooking.   The minister, churchwardens and  the 'respectable parishioners' were so proud and delighted that they requested they might insert a notice in the leader column of The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette of 3rd June.  They informed the readers that they were so pleased with their new organ that they deemed it "only a common act of justice to the Builders,  Messrs. Brooking and Son, of this city, to make this formal expression of their approbation."

"The Swell, which is just completed, is full of the sweetest expression - the rich brilliancy of the Hautboy forming a delightful contrast to the softness of the Dulcinea and Stop Diapason,  and the whole Instrument is so nicely voiced, and forms such a pleasing combination of sounds that it reflects the highest credit on the good taste and skill of the Builders."

 

Is it not remarkable and somehow pleasing that the writer here (who sounds to me like Mr. Harding!) was addressing (one imagines) a goodly and knowledgeable audience of Exeter organ-lovers - citizens who knew their hautboys from their dulcineas?  And is there not here a most joyful and, in these times a refreshing, expression of cultural refinement and civic pride?/

  

LUCKY WILCOCKS JUNIOR, EXETER, 1836.

In December 1836, The Western Times reported:

"Exeter, in common with the whole of the West of England was visited on Tuesday last, by one of the most tremendous hurricanes from the N.N.W. that was ever witnessed.   It had blown a gale of wind all night, but soon after nine, the wind came on in such fierce and overwhelming gusts, that houses were unroofed in the space of a few minutes, chimneys were hurled down, tiles and slates were flying like leaves, and lead was curled up and rolled up like tissue paper.

So sudden was the hurricane and so destructive its effect, that many houses were absolutely deserted, and people were running hither and thither, bewildered and amazed, just as we read of the panics which attend on earth-quakes.

Several stacks of chimneys were blown down, and many hairbreadth escapes have come within our knowledge, but the most miraculous we have heard is, that of the preservation of the only child of Mr. J. C. Wilcocks, jun., a promising lad, who was poorly in bed, when a stack of chimneys fell through the roof, and carried away the floor of the room in which he slept, but without doing him the slightest injury."

Was the lucky youngster Mr. Wilcocks junior or was he Mr. Wilcock's junior's child?   It doesn't matter.  The promising lad suffered not the slightest injury.   Still, it's a bit much to have a chimney-stack pass through your bedroom - and that when your feeling poorly.

(Source, The Western Times, 3rd December 1836.) 

AN UNHAPPY GIRL, EXETER, 1835.

"An unhappy girl, aged 14, the daughter of a washer-woman, residing in John-street, drowned herself on Monday last, through being detected in an immoral act.   An inquest was held on the body, and a verdict of felo de se, &c. was returned.   

The wretched girl was buried at midnight on Wednesday, in Bartholomew yard, and without any funeral rites, or the slightest manifestation of sympathy.

The body was borne on a plank to the grave, by two men, in the clothes in which she was found, and literally pitched in head-foremost, without one single expression of affection or regret from the breast of a relative or friend."

An immoral act! - buried at midnight! - borne on a plank fom John Street to Bartholomew Yard? 

What more to be said? 

A tear to be shed?

Source: The Western Times,1st August 1835. 

THE ABSENT, SAPIENT PIG, EXETER, 1834.

On Easter Monday 1834, so reported The Western Times of 5th April, there was, as usual, the Easter fair.   The fair was held on the Quay, near to Exeter's Custom House and the sports were, among others, boat-racing, climbing a well-greased pole for a shoulder of mutton and a gingling match.  (A gingling match, or more commonly a jingling match, according to Google, is a sport where a jingler jingles a bell and up to a dozen people, who are blindfolded, try to catch him or her.)

But in 1834 there was regrettably no appearance by Toby the pig.  Toby seems to have been a favourite with the Exeter crowd.  He was one of a tradition of well-documented, sapient, nineteenth-century pigs, mostly called Toby.    The Times' reporter was at the fair: 

".... we looked in vain for the sapient pig;  whether the learned animal had gone out of his mind or had been engaged in any of the learned societies of the metropolis or had gone to graduate at either of the 'ancient universities,' at which there has been an exhibition of much pig-headedness amongst the learned - we know not, all we know is, that Toby was not to be seen in his accustomed haunts, and that our holiday friends who have been wont to add to their stock of knowledge from the fund possessed and diffused by this most learned pig, departed disappointed and dejected." 

I thing the 'pig-headedness amongst the learned' at the universities must reflect The Times' attitude to the growing Oxford Movement which was much bothering the good protestants of Exeter and Devon at the time.   

SLIPPING INTO THE MASHING-KIEVE, EXETER, 1832.

On Saturday 14th April, 1832, The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette reported:

"A man, named Bragg, a servant of Mr. Richards, of the Turk's Head Inn in this city, on Monday morning last, accidentally slipped into the mashing-kieve which was then filled with the second run of wort.  The lower parts of his body only were immersed in the liquid, and he fortunately extricated himself, when the brewer came to his assistance, and having stripped him, made an instant application of yeast to the scalded parts,  The man was afterward removed to the Devon and Exeter Hospital, where he now remains in a fair way of recovery," 

The Turk's Head Inn still stands next to Exeter's Guildhall.  I like to imagine this accident happening in the yard behind, where now the shopping-centre buzzes.    A kieve is a tub, here big enough for  poor Bragg to slip into.   It was full of  boiling-hot wort, wort being a mash of barley and malt and perhaps other grain.

The very thought of being scalded in my lower parts makes me feel tolerant, for once, towards today's health and safety regulators.

I wonder if the resourceful, yeast-applying brewer went on to sell his brew to the Turk's Head's or elsewhere.  I suppose he did.  Maybe he called it Bragg's Brew;  - maybe not!