A BONE TO PICK, EXETER, 1845.

On 26th January, 1845, a fist-fight between Isaac Taylor and Charles Derrick was arranged at the  Victory Inn in St. Sidwells, Exeter.  It was not between known pugilists and, no doubt, would have passed unnoticed had not Charles Derrick died as a consequence.  Isaac Taylor together with James Jackson and Sambo (a black), the seconds to the combatants, were charged with manslaughter.   

Maria Moore,  a servant to Mr. Balkwill, the landlord of the Victory witnessed the challenge. She gave evidence to the Assize Court when the case came to trial, two months later:

" I was present and heard them talk about fighting,  Taylor sat near the fire, and Derrick sat opposite to him, but afterwards went and sat behind him.  Derrick said  'I.m damned if I won't give you a bone to pick to-morrow.'  Taylor replied  'Then meet me to-morrow morning at 10 o'clock for 10s. or for 20s. meet me in good fellowship, and come back and drink with us like a man.'  There was no appearance of a quarrel.

"Cross-examined:  I heard that Derrick challenged Taylor - not Taylor Derrick.  The first words I heard were from Taylor who said 'Charley did you mean what you said just now.'"

The fight took place the next morning. John Woollacott, an ostler at the White Lion, St. Sidwell's witnessed the fight:

"I was at a field near the Barracks between 11 and 12, there were many people looking at a fight between Derrick and the prisoner Taylor, who were both stripped.  They fought half an hour. Jackson seconded Taylor, and Sambo seconded deceased. They fought  for 10s.  Taylor threw Derrick several times - they fell together, Derrick being under, thrown by the 'fore-hip'. Derrick did not seem beat at all when the fight was over.  During the fight Taylor struck Derrick several times in the head.  They struck each other , but I did not see Taylor strike Derrick anywhere but in the head.  I left them both in the field  after the fight was over - they shook hands - Derrick was then standing up by Sambo.  I saw Derrick in the hospital next day and, after that, I saw the dead body of Derrick in the Hospital.

"Cross-Examined - I went to the field to see the fight - it was a fair stand up fight.  Derrick hit Taylor many times.  The ground  was very wet and slippery; and Derrick fell twice without a blow, from it being so slippery.  I heard no cries of  'shame, take the man away.'"

The Grand Jury found this a case difficult to judge.   They were away for a quarter of an hour. Of course the meeting itself was a breach of the peace and therefore an offence but everyone in England accepted that, as Mr. Slade, who defended Taylor and Jackson, (but not Sambo the black) said: "This was a fair stand up fight, without malice - there were no knives or deadly weapons used, which had occasionally of late disgraced the name of Englishmen.  It was a manly stand up fight, carried on according to the style which was characteristic of the English nation." 

The Jury returned a verdict of guilty against all, but recommended mercy, as the fight was fair and no advantage was taken of the deceased by the prisoners.

The judge sentenced all three to one month's imprisonment without hard labour.

*

Englishmen do not fight with knives.   It's just not done. That's the thing about all this knife-crime one reads about today - it's just not English!

I feel sorry for Sambo the black.  He had only gone along to see the fight but was roped in to be Derrick's second at the last moment.  He, presumably, could not afford to be represented in Court but perhaps had satisfaction in  finding that he, nevertheless, fared no worse than the others.

The place where they fought was called Snow's Field. It was beside the Cavalry (Higher) Barracks and a favourite place for such meetings.

The fight seems to have been as much fall-down as stand-up - a mixture of boxing and wrestling.

The White Lion Hotel and The Victory Inn were both on Sidwell St.  The former was bombed away in the Blitz;  the latter is an inn no longer.

Source: The Western Times, 22nd March, 1845.

A GUMBLE, EXETER, 1845

In The Western Times for 15th March, 1845, we read:

  "A butcher, named PAGE, was summoned by Mr. Stogdon for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals on a charge of cruelly killing a terrier dog.

"The dog, which belonged to a person named Downing, got into the Lower Market, and after smelling around the defendant's stall, began to gnaw at a calf skin which hung temptingly near the ground. The defendant took up a 'gumble,' a heavy stick, used to spread the skin and 'hove' it at the dog, and struck it  on the head, and killed it instantly.

"The Mayor said the case was not one of wanton cruelty, and he would impose a small fine only to cover the expenses."

A gumble, here neatly defined by the newspaper, appears in none of my dictionaries.  The OED (online) offers one written reference to gumbles. (in 1688!) meaning a horse's cheekbones.  That there is, via butchers, bones and butchering a link here seems, to me, likely.  Perhaps the cheekbone of the horse was also used to spread calfskin.  It is, I learn, a large, flat bone.  In any case Page, the butcher was a dead shot with the gumble and could heave it with lethal consequence as Downing's terrier found out. 

Page the butcher said hove and, already in 1845, it is given speech marks.  It, the old and regular form,  is still common enough in Devon today as the past participle of to heave and certainly boats can only be hove to. 

The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals had only been founded in 1824.  I have the impression that Exeter magistrates were not yet taking it seriously. 

I have an image here of this butcher's stall in the Lower Market, with its scraped calfskins hanging to the ground, looking very different from today's butcher's shop, (as if there were any in Exeter!!)  In my imagination it is selling all kinds of tripe and offal and sweetbreads and sheeps' heads, pigs' heads &c. which we seldom see now.  Mind you, thanks to multiple cultures, I have seen that sort of thing on the Kingsland Road and elsewhere in London.  Coming soon to Sidwell Street? 

A BAD SHILLING, EXETER, 1845.

 "Two boys, named  ROBERT HORE and WILLIAM RAWLINGS were brought up on suspicion of passing base coin.  They had been lodging at the  Pestle and Mortar - a very suspicious haunt; and Wolcott and Joslyn who were sent there for evidence in another case, finding the youngsters in bed, thought it proper to search their pockets - in one of which they found a bad shilling.  

"The boys told their stories very circumstantially.  One of them had come the previous day from Chard, where he had been working.  The other said that he ran away from his parents at Falmouth; that he went to sea and to Swansea, for his first voyage; that having been discharged on the vessel getting to London, he had walked hither. He gave the names of the towns he had passed, and spoke with the earnestness of truth. He had made the acquaintance of the other boy in Exeter, and they had agreed to stay here till Monday, and then go on for Plymouth; they had got but five shillings, including the bad one, between them; and they protested that they "never took nothing from nobody."

"They were discharged." 

*

This is a rare mention of The Pestle and Mortar, a public house in Exeter on the corner where King Street (then known as Idol Lane) meets Smythen Street.  The few mentions of this house at this time note its disreputable nature.  It was, says one Exeter mayor, tantamount to a brothel.

These two boys, finding lodging there, would , I feel sure, have been very little lads.  These days they would have been sent home to their mothers and their "sixth form colleges".   Instead they were tramping the country and jumping on ships and making friends in strange places.  London to Exeter is two hundred miles.   Chard to Exeter is thirty miles,  an impressive day's walk.  Britain was still, as in the days of Richard Whittington,  an age of pedestrianism with working men and women tramping the highways of Britain seeking what?  The bubble fortune? The better life? 

As so often, the Exeter policemen seem to be stupid. over-zealous. and unable to foresee the likely response of the magistrates.  To rummage through the pockets of two boys who just happened to be in an inn where they were looking for evidence in another case and then to book them on suspicion of passing base coin just because they found one bad shilling is just bad policing.  That sort of thing couldn't happen now, could it?

Let us wish Robert Hore and William Rawlings well as they journey to Plymouth and beyond.

Source: The Western Times,8th February, 1845.

 

TAFFIES, EXETER, 1845.

 "John TOZER was charged with a most riotous outrage.   In the Butcher-row there is a respectable gentleman who sells taffies and other sweetmeats. Last Saturday he was awakened out of his first sleep by a tremendous battering at the door.  He ran to see who was there and found the prisoner demanding a ha'porth of taffies. He could not serve him at that unreasonable hour; and the other kicked away at the door and swore if he did not serve him, he would beat the sanguinary door in.    He at last opened the door, when the prisoner bolted down the passage and  met a watchman in St. John-street, when he said "watchman, you're too late; there's been a hell of a row - and I've been  in it!"   Complainant then came up and gave him in charge, and the Bench fined him 5s. and expenses, and in default of payment locked him up for a week."

Taffies, of course, are toffees.  This was the original form, not written down, according to OED,  until 1817, a Creole word, coming, like the sugar cane, from the West Indies.  Taffy became first Toffy and then Toffee.

John Tozer  would seem to have been a taffy addict.  We are not told how old he was but cabinet maker or not, I guess he was only a teenager.  He lived with his parents but clearly they were not going to cough up the five shillings to keep him out of gaol.

The Butcher-row was an extension of Smythen St.  It was a poor district.  Would a seller of sweetmeats living in Smythen St. really be a respectable gentleman ? Perhaps not but if so he would be in the class of impoverished gentlefolk, a class we may be seeing more of in the decade to come.  There is a distinct sense of looming Brother, can you spare a dime?  about the present times.

Sanguinary door: No respectable newspaper in 1845 could print the word bloody, used as a vulgar adjective, a word not thus seen in print until 1840 (OED) hence the old humourous euphemism above.  When Bernard Shaw staged Pygmalion (1912)  the spoken word caused shock and dismay. 

Source : The Western Times, 8th March, 1845.  

A CHILD POISONED BY ITS FATHER, BRADNINCH, 1845.

 Under this heading The Exeter and Plymouth Gazette, of 1st March 1845, reported:

"During the past week the quiet village of Bradninch, about nine miles from this city, has been the scene of considerable excitement, in consequence of the following circumstances.  

"A short time ago, a husbandman residing there lost his wife in childbed.  The infant was taken into the country by a female relative, who took charge of it.

"On the day of the wife's funeral this person came to Bradninch to attend it, and during the performance of the ceremony left the child in the care of its father, who had been indisposed and was receiving sick-pay from his club, being confined to his bed.

"He had previously provided himself with a bottlle of spirits of hartshorn, unknown to his nurse, by sending a casual visitor for it during her absence.

"He took the child into bed with him, whilst the funeral of his wife was going on and administered the spirits of hartshorn to it, hiding the bottle in a crevice of the floor.

"The female relative, who had interested herself in the case of the child, on returning from the funeral found it foaming at the mouth and very ill.  She was much alarmed and took it to the minister of the parish to be baptised. That gentleman caused the infant to receive medical attention but it died shortly afterwards.

"An inquest was held on the body on Saturday, which was adjourned to yesterday, when we learn that the father was committed for trial on a charge of Wilful Murder."

As so often, one is alarmed to see how quickly and to what degree the newspaper has prejudged a case.  

This seems to be a tale of ultra Victorian Gothic horror.   The degree of misery implied is shocking. We are not given enough detail but perhaps we shall see learn more at the next Assize Court. 

Spirit of hartshorn  was literally obtained from the antlers of the red-deer and some other horny sources.  They were an ammonia solution not particularly known to be poisonous but the child could only have been some days old.

It was clearly thought more important to have the child seen by the minister than the doctor.   I am  distrustful of female relatives;  innate misogyny I suppose!

In childbed  here meaning giving birth is noteworthy.

 

                                                                   

JOHN GOSS, EXETER, 1845.

The Rxeter and Plymouth Gazette of 22nd February 1845 reports how one John Goss....

".... was charged with an assault upon his wife, and attempting to throw her into the water. 

"It appeared that the parties had for several days had disputes, and that about half-past 11 last night, the woman left her house , when the husband followed her, and upon arriving at the Old Bridge, near the Shilhay, caught her up in his arms and endeavoured to throw her over the bridge. 

"Her screams fortunately called the Police to her assistance in time to save her.

"The Court fined him 40s. and the expenses for the assault, and in default of payment ordered him to be imprisoned one month." 

The Old Bridge near the Shilhay in Exeter must mean the mediaeval bridge, some of which still exists,  which was largely demolished before 1845 but this story indicates that some of it still stretched out over waters of the Exe.   

The Shilhay is the southernmost part of Exe Island and itself a virtual island.  It was the industrial hub of Exeter and had been the centre of the woollen trade but by1845 its mills and warehouses were home to  brick-makers, timber-merchants, stone-and-slate merchants, &c,.

These days, surely, magistrates could hardly overlook what would seem to be attempted murder and a month in prison seems a somewhat inappropriate punishment for trying to throw your wife over the parapit of a bridge.

Those busy policemen seem to have been there whenever they were needed.  Of course it can't have been quite like that.

 

RUINED BY THE BLACK DOG, EXETER, 1845

At the Exeter Police Court,  so reports The Western Tiimes for 15th February 1845:  

"EDWARD TANNER was summoned for keeping open  the Black Dog to an unreasonable hour.  The case was proved by Policeman Perriam - an officer invaluable for his acute hearing.  In passing over the Iron Bridge  once an hour from nine in the evening till four in the morning, he could distinguish every time well known voices in the tap-room of the Black Dog;  he could hear them, during the whole of the night, 'tossing for three glasses of gin and water, which made eighteen pence;' and at twenty minutes to four two neighbours living just above came out in a pretty fresh state.

"The Mayor said he had received frequent complaints from the injured wives of the neighborhood, whose domestic happiness had been ruined by the Black Dog;  men who would have been the best of husbands, returned late and intoxicated to their anxious families, and all owing to the Black Dog.

The defendant was fined 40s. and expenses"  

A night-policeman's stag of duty would seem to have lasted eight hours, eight hours of pounding the beat with nothing happening!  Policing Exeter at night would be more exciting these days, - if there were any policemen pounding.

The Black Dog Tavern, now the City Gate Hotel, was at No 5 North Street next to the North Gate of the city and at one end of  Exeter's famous Iron Bridge.  

The Mayor of Exeter, Henry Hooper Esq., just like his predecessor, William Page Kingdon Esq, pretends intimate knowledge of the affairs of the humbler classes.  One wonders how genuine were these pretensions

A pretty fresh state for as drunk as a coot is pleasing.