MRS. MEEK.

 And now, as the Pythons used to say, for something completely different:

THE STORY OF MRS. MEEK

Once upon a time there was a nice little woman called Mrs. Meek. Although Mrs. Meek was a very little woman she had an amazingly strong right arm. Her right arm was amazingly strong because she did a lot of ironing or perhaps she did a lot of ironing because she had an amazingly strong arm. I don't know which but I do know that she was very quick and clever with the smoothing iron. She was a champion.

She always did the ironing on Tuesdays. One Tuesday she was in a very bad mood. She was in a bad mood because she had eight lively children and seven of them had been writing rude words on their bedsheets and duvet-covers and in ink and the sheets and duvet-covers had been washed and now Mrs. Meek needed to iron them and she hated ironing sheets and duvet-covers. Only little Daisy, her favourite child, who never did anything wrong, had not written any rude words in ink on her sheet and duvet-cover.

Mrs. Meek was also in a bad mood because thirteen pairs of Mr. Meek's trousers needed to be pressed and she hated pressing his trousers. Mr.  Meek was a very big and very noisy man whose trousers were the biggest you have ever seen. He quite often lost his temper and couldn't find it again. Whenever Mr. Meek lost his temper the whole family had to search for it until one or other of them found it.

Mrs. Meek also had a huge wicker-basket, as big as a small elephant, full to overflowing with tops and bottoms and handkerchiefs and towels and socks and stockings and tablecloths and napkins and lots of other things, all of which needed ironing.

She certainly had lots of ironing to do but she had an amazingly strong right arm so she set to work and dashed away with the smoothing iron and folded all the bedsheets and duvet-covers and the very big trousers and the tops and bottoms and handkerchiefs and towels and socks and stockings and tablecloths and napkins and all the other things and sorted them into neat piles like the champion that she was and before you could believe it she was ironing the last little handkerchief from the huge wicker-basket andshe was feeling that she was just getting into her stride.

I quite forgot to tell you that the Meeks had a tabby-cat. She was not a noisy cat but she was nervous and badly behaved. Well, just as Mrs. Meek was folding away the last little handkerchief the cat jumped up onto the ironing-board. Well, can you guess what Mrs. Meek did? Mrs. Meek did not hesitate. She grabbed the cat and ironed her flat and folded her neatly and started a new pile with her. 

The flattened and folded cat looked so neat and tidy and peaceful lying there that Mrs. Meek looked around for the old dog. I quite forgot to tell you that the Meeks had a dog. He was not a noisy dog but he was very old and smelly and in no time at all Mrs. Meek had hoiked him up onto the ironing-board and flattened him and folded him and piled him very neatly on top of the cat.

Mrs. Meek was just telling herself how neat and tidy and peaceful and sweet-smelling the dog was when the seven children who had written rude words on their sheets and duvet- covers and in ink started to come home. They came home one at a time, shouting and screaming and calling for tea and tea-cakes.

Well, can you guess what Mrs. Meek did? Mrs. Meek did not hesitate. She picked up her children one after another with her amazingly strong right arm and put them on the ironing-board and flattened and folded them one after another and added them to her pile one after another. One - two - three - four - five- six - seven! They looked so neat and tidy and peaceful and well-behaved lying one on top of the other that she started to lose her bad mood. Yes, her bad mood was definitely fading away but before it had faded completely Mr. Meek came home from work. He burst into the house and he didn't say hello. He only said, “Humph! I seem to have lost my temper again.”

Well, can you guess what Mrs. Meek did? Mrs. Meek did not hesitate. She picked up her very big husband with her amazingly strong right arm and put him on the ironing-board, which creaked a little, and she flattened him with the iron, which took quite a long time because he really was so very big, and she folded him neatly and put him on the same pile as the badly-behaved cat, the smelly dog and her seven lively children. Then she took all the neat piles of ironing and shut them away into cupboards and drawers and at once her bad mood faded away, but completely!

It was at just this moment that Mrs. Meek's favourite child, Daisy, came skipping home. She had been in the meadow picking wild flowers for her mother. “These are for you, dear mummy,” said Daisy Meek, “because today is Tuesday and I expect you've had a hard time of it at the ironing-board.” Mrs. Meek was pleased as Punch. “Thank you my sweet child,” she said, “Yes, Daisy, I've been ironing all afternoon, but, as you know, I have an amazingly strong right arm and I am a champion at ironing and it's always very satisfying when one has finished and everything is flattened and folded neatly and put away. And now you and I can sit down to our tea and tea-cakes in peace and quiet.”

And so they did, that day and every day, and Mrs. Meek and Daisy Meek lived happily ever after.

ⓒ Wayland Wordsmith,  22nd July,  2026. (His 87th Birthday!!)

£2 HORSES, DEVONSHIRE, 1845.

James Barnes was the head gardener of Bicton Gardens who wrote a letter to The United Gardeners and Land Stewards Journal The 25th Number) in July(?) 1845 professing to give a correct account of Devonshire Farming.   According to a letter to the Editor of The Exeter Flying Post published on of 24th July 1845 and written by J.W. Harvey, Collector of Taxes at Ottery St. Mary, Mr. Barnes did not think highly of Devonshire farmers.  below is an extract from Mr. Harvey's letter:

"Of Devonshire Farming he asserts there is no drilling or hoeing, except in Turnips, which occasionally get hoed once.  That the Turnip bulbs do not on an average exceed a goose's egg in size.  That there is rarely  a drain cut for any purpose - that it is rare to hear of more than 9 Bushels of Wheat to the Acre, all other produce averaging the same ratio, that the Horses do not average Two Pounds each, that they seldom get Cleaned or Groomed in any way, that there is no chaff-cutting.  That the Harness is never Cleaned or Mended except being tied with Rope Yarn, in short the Devon Farmer is Careless, Dirty, Lazy, Improvident, Gossiping, slack in his payments, buys altogether on credit, and he concludes his description with the following elegant sentence.  Therefore he seems a poor Manager, a poor Husband, a poor Father, a poor Neighbour, a poor Citizen, a poor Christian, and not much fit for a Farmer some would I dare say imagine."

There was naturally reaction to this attack.

  One such letter, from a Mr. N. Tucket of 168, Fore-street, Exeter, (The Exeter Flying Post, 7th August 1845) gave a pleasant description of  Exeter's busy quay.

"....if he (Mr. Barnes) had been st Exeter Quay for the last fortnight, he would certainly have been astonished to have seen the thousands of bushels of wheat shipped daily from this poor, insignificant, half-starved county; after all, I will tell Mr. Barnes as a well known fact, that Exeter is the best supplied and cheapest market for corn and particularly wheat and barley, in England."

*

Bicton Gardens:  today are much visited and famed for  their great beauty.  Beauty to which the disparaging Mr. Barnes made a great contribution.  At the time, these were the gardens of Bicton House (today an Agricultural College) the home of the formidable Lady Rolle, one of the wealthiest landowners in the country.

The United Gardeners' Journal:  I need to say that I have not seen Mr. Barnes' original letter but I imagine it was quite as insulting as described.

Rope yarn:  O dear!  In Devon they tied up their harness with string! I would believe this to be a seed of Exeter's current decadence if I did not believe every city throughout our nation has become equally decadent.

Mr. Tucket concluded his letter from Fore-street thus:

"I should like to shew this Mr. Barnes the farms of many gentlemen around 10 miles of Exeter, those of renting farmers; he would then soon repent and throw down the charge."

I rejoice in Mr. Harvey's use of capital letters.

James Barnes worked at Bicton for 30 years.  He lived in the Garden House at Bicton with his wife and son and servant,  He was a strict disciplinarian said to have transformed the Gardens and greatly improved the work force.

Mr. N. Tucket: was a wealthy Exeter merchant with warehouses on the Quay and a leading member of the Exeter Agricultural Society.  

 

AN ALARUM, EXETER, 1845.

 "Mrs. Lydia Tothill and Mrs. Elizabeth Rice, have been neighbours, and cronies, residing in Toby's Buildings, Lower North-street, - 

"They were both dressed in mourning; but one of these being about to remove to a litle distance from the other; the joy of the one remaining was testified by setting up an alarum at the window with a pestle and mortar, and ringing a bell. - 

"The Bench had no jurisdiction and dismissed the case, with a word of advice to each, and an intimation that it was well perhaps for themselves, and also the peace of the neighbourhood that such good neighbours were separated."

I needed to read this Court report (from The Exeter Flying Post, 3rd July, 1845 ) several times before I understood it.  I'm still not sure that this is the story.  The tired sarcasm of the Victorian newspapermen can be very confusing.   Mrs. Tothill and Mrs. Rice, both perhaps widows, hated each other like poison.  When Mrs. Tothill eventually left Toby's Building there was the ringng of a bell and the rattling of a pestle in a mortar at Mrs. Rice's window to spitefully send her on her way.   Mrs. Tothill brought Mrs. Rice to the Exeter Guildhall to answer for her incivility but the Bench, quite rightly, dismissed the case.

Pestle and mortar  being used to make a racket I find an interesting detail. 

Dressed in mourning: I guess for Messrs. Tothill and Rice who had gone before.  Widows were expected to wear mourning for at least two years.   Many never again wore anything other. 

Good neighbours:  The clue as to what here is sarcasm and what not is indicated by the newspaper by the change of type style.

VULGAR SPEECHIFYING, EXETER, 1845.

Mr. Vinning was a professor of music who had truly remarkable musical children.  When "The Infant Sappho", also known as Louisa Vinning, came to Exeter in January 1845 she was eight years old and had already been performing in public for five years.  The Exeter Flying Post (16th January, 1845) reported favourably on her precocious performance as a singer but was not impressed by the way her father, Mr. Vinning, dumbed the evening down with references to empty benches and bill-stickers and other such humbug.  This so chimed with my own sensible thinking, that there are few things quite so aggravating as vulgar speechifying during the presentation of songs and instrumental performances that I copy this section of the Post's review :   

"We are perfectly aware that country audiences require a certain degree of what is vulgarly called, "humbug," to be practised upon them.  In our judgement however, Mr. Vinning carries this to an absurd extent.

"He indulges in what, to use the slang of the Commom Showmen is termed "patter," not only in lauding the  powers of the "Infant Sappho" almost before every song.  but in talking to his audience about the songs that have been written for her, the verses in praise of her, the crowds that have thronged to listen to her, and the empty benches, there were not many, that these ought to and would have been filled, if due dilligence had been exercised on the part of the bill-sticker.   We are convinced that sensible people (and those are many among every audience) must be disgusted with all this vulgar speechifying, and we assure Mr. Vinning that the talent of his very interesting and highly gifted child is quite high enough to be appreciated every where without the aid of any false excitement among the audience."

The biggest offender with regard to such vulgar speechifying today with which I an familiar is BBC Radio 3.  The presenters' (and their guests'!) patter has become unbearable and grows more trivial and more vulgar with the years.  I guess it is the common fault of our national institutions that they feel they must be popular. (a  close synonym of vulgar!).  The consequence, it seems to me, is that it becomes increasingly tempting to switch off from the broadcasts.  Okay, a certain degree of  false excitement and what is vulgarly called "humbug" is necessarily practised upon us, but BBC Radio 3, I would argue, carries humbug, as did, reportedly, Mr. Vinning,  to an absurd extent. 

P.S.  Free Example! I switched on to BBC Radio 3 yesterday and heard no music but the words, deliberately spoken by a woman presenter, something like:   "Laura  - I think I would be right in saying  - that politics have been a thread throughout your life."  I switched off before 'Laura' made answer.   Humbug, humbug!!!

A JEMMY TUSCAN BONNET, EXETER, 1845.

 "In this case Mrs. Selina Soper complained that Mr. James Clarke, mine host of the Bishop Blaze public house near the Shilhay, had assaulted her on the 25th April, - torn her Tuscan bonnet, and damaged her frock, - for gowns no longer form part of the habiliments of woman.

"It appeared that Wm. Soper, the goodly mate of Selina, at an early party in the morning on the day in question, betook himself, with other boon companions, to the Bishop Blaze, where he staid about three hours, and drank six half pints of beer!  In the meantime Selina reached home, and found a pan of milk that was intended to be scalded only, on the brink of ruin.  Boiling with rage, even if the milk did not, she set out in search of her truant husband, and finding him at "The Bishop" - if the sign was not fully represented before, - she soon rendered the portraiture complete, by truly setting all in a blaze.  This Mr. Clarke disapproved of , as well a landlord may, and proceeded vi et armis to eject the lady from the premises; - a matter that, calling forth the husband, a battle royal ensued.

"That blood had been spilt on either side there was no reason to doubt, - and as little that the jemmy Tuscan bonnet, and frock of cotton print had been torn.  But the knotty question with the Bench was, had a greater degree of force been made use of in ejected the exited and turbulent Selina from the house than was necessary.

"Mr. G. W. Turner addressed the Bench, on the part of "mine host" of the Blaze, most eloquently on this point.  But the Bench decided that this had been the case.  Considering however that great provocation had been given on the other side, it contented itself with imposing on Mr. Clarke the fine of 1s. and the expenses.  Mr. Turner advised him to pay this, but under protest, if he shall hereafter determine to appeal to the Quarter Sessions against the judgement.  And in order to await this, the "tuscan" and the frock, were delivered into the care of Fulford, an officer."

This trivial tale, as reported in The Exeter Flying Post for 7th May 1845, follows a path well-trodden at the time.  The truant husband is followed into the pub by the furious wife and the landlord throws her out, or tries to.  In this case the intrepid Selina takes the innkeeper to court and wins her case even if her victory is distinctly Pyrric.

The Bishop Blaze: is still a public house near (or on) the Shilhay in Exeter.  Saint Blaise was a fourth century, Armenian, Christian martyr and the patron saint of wool-combers hence his connection to the city. 

Gowns and frocks:  We would seem to be at a significant point in the history of women's fashion with Selina Soper, perhaps, supercool  in her frock of cotton print and with her tuscan bonnet.

Scalding milk:  was a common practice to kill bacteria in fresh milk  - but I like to think our Selina was hoping to make some Devonshire (clotted) cream. 

Vi et armis:  by main force,  as every schoolboy knew.

A Tuscan bonnet: seems to have been a luxury item.  I warm to Selina Soper.

Mine host:   is still common, and sometimes even vulgar.  I wonder how it was pronounced.  These days, in my experience, everyone, those who couldn't care less and those who are nice about these things,  say, mine host,  which must be wrong, it is like saying an happle.  I guess its popularity stems from the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales!

Jemmy:  is not  in my dictionary of  slang (the Oxford).  Etymonline has the fascinating etymology: "a pop form of the masc. proper name James ....In mid 18c. often associated with effeminancy and male fastidiousness, hence jemmy "spruce, neat."  

The tool seems to have the same origin.  I have never seen jemmy (adj.) before but no doubt it is still in use somewhere,  -  the Appalachians or Botany Bay or Tiverton or somewhere!

"OLD HARRY", EXETER, 1845.

From the proceedings of the magistrates at the Exeter Guildhall as reported by the Exeter Flying Post of 7th May, 1845:

 "Solomon, who was a wise man, said  'Correct thy son' but what the doctrine in this respect would be in the present day, it is not very easy to say.  This, however, is clear, that it is a dangerous and very expensive matter to chastise the son  of any other body, however bad their conduct may be; and this James Stubbings found in the present instance.

"Stubbings is the civil driver of an omnibus to and from the railway station, and on the 26th of April,while thus engaged, near the Old London Inn, came in contact with a donkey cart driven by a lad named George Norman,  who not appearing to be attending to what was going on, and there being a danger that the pole of the larger vehicle would play 'Old Harry' with, or perhaps smash the smaller, Stubbings called to him.

"Instead,, however, of civilly replying to this, and doing that which was necessary to the safety of all, he (Norman) as he admitted called the other a d****d fool for his interference, and placing the fingers of one of his hands in a certain position, he applied the tip of one thumb to his nose, and in a well known and offensive manner endeavoured to draw ridicule on Stubbings.

"Naturally resenting this, as soon as he was enabled he quitted the box, and administered to the youth a few smart cuts with the whip. This, however, was stated by John Sparks, the beadle, who saw the latter part of the transaction only, to have been done in an unmerciful manner.  While Westcott, a fly driver, who also saw it, as well as the offensive action of Norman - observed nothing above a just and proper punishment. - This appeared certain, that Norman exhibited marks of punishment, the skin of his legs being broken, when he came to the Guildhall to prefer his complaint. - 

"The Bench deliberated, but were not unanimous in the judgement pronounced, which was the infliction of a fine of 5s. and expences, on Stubbings.  Norman's character, not appearing to stand very high with the Bench, and Dr. Barham observing, "I think it served him very right."" 

* 

The Old London Inn: was on the corner where Paris Street meets Sidwell Street.  It was later to be known as the Bude Hotel and was subsequently demolished to allow for road widening.

Old Harry: is an ancient euphemism for the the Devil and no one seems to know why.  It seems to me it might simply be a bad pun on the Old English verbs to harry and to harrow in the sense of to devestate but no one else seems to think so. 

Thumbing the nose: is still a well-known, offensive gesture although deemed much less offensive now than in 1845.  Most sources trace it back only to the 18th century and I always thought that Shakespeare's biting the thumb at someone (famously in Romeo and Juliet) would seem to be much the same thing (as my old English master, the celebrated Alan Durband, maintained) but this thumbing has been well researched back to Adam and this seems not to be the case.

John Sparks the beadle: was the junior beadle of the Exeter Corporation of the Poor.  As such, I suppose, the equivalent of Dicken's beadle, Mr Bumble in Oliver Twist, which  naturally prejudices one against him,  but  here  his seems the voice of reason.  The poor boy had, it would seem, come freshly-bleeding, to the Guildhall.

The Bench were not unanimous: It was unusual for the Exeter Bench to be divided but here Dr. Barham clearly voted for the control of rebellious youth and the Mayor, Edward Woolmer, for the word of the law.  No doubt the Mayor was in the right and these days we not do not lacerate the limbs of insolent young people.  We now, however, dare not speak a harsh word to them however bad their conduct may be, indeed we are cautioned by the police not so to do.  In today's Exeter, where I observe the bad behaviour of some, in particular, Exeter College 'students', with no-one able to exercise any authority over them whatsoever, I think the pendulum might have swung a little too far.

Any other body for anybody else is delightful.

     

A SULLEN FANATIC, EXETER, 1845.

Surprisingly the early-Victorian Board of Magistrates at the Guildhall of Exeter  often functioned as a type of Marriage Guidance Counsel as here in the case of a shoemaker reported in The Exeter Flying Post of 1st May 1845:

 "The wife of Alexander Tapscott. a snob, but anything rather than a jolly one, complained that he had been strapping her at a rather unmerciful rate with his stirrup, and also that he kept her without a sufficient supply of the "ready."

"This would seem to be one of the ill-assorted matches that take place.  Elick is a teetotaller, and the severity with which he disciplines his own body would seem to be such that his face might be taken for that of one of the old puritans, so lank is it and haggard.  His rib, on the contrary, has an eye full of fire, - a face in which spirit sits enthroned, - a form that is buxom, and, in short, appears altogether such as requires only a counter part in her helpmeet to render her a happy and industrious woman.  It appears they have one child 14 weeks old.

"The Bench deliberated whether they should not bind over the sullen fanatic to keep the peace; but on his promising not again to abuse his wife; and she promising also to accomodate herself to his peculiar habits and notions as well as she can, the parties were dismissed."

The jolly snob sounds to me like he should feature in a popular song but, if so, I haven't found him. Snob for shoemaker is still, in 1845, common usage in Exeter.

To strap someone with a stirrup. would be lethal but, bad enough!, it must be his stirrup-leather with which, our reporter tells us, Mr. Tapscott strapped Mrs. Tapscott.

Elick is merely a pet name for Alexander.  

Mrs. Tapscott is Alexander's rib and all the readers of The Flying Post have The Book of Genesis by heart and are familiar with the reference. 

The Post can't spell accommodate either.