ON TENTER HOOKS, EXETER, 1843.

 Mr. George Maunder was a woollen manufacturer on Exe Island .  On the 17th July, 1843 'a piece of blanket, containing twelve pairs' of his manufacture was hung out on racks in Serge Grounds, St. Thomas.  They were stretched on tenterhooks.  The next morning two of the blankets were found to have been cut. The tightly stretched fabric must have been tempting to slash!  Henry Colman a 'decent looking lad', sixteen years old and an assistant clerk to Mr.Thomas Moss, an Exeter linen draper, was charged with maliciously cutting and destroying the blanketing.  The case came before the Devon and Exeter Assizes of August, 1843.

This was a serious charge, because a particular statute, passed long before, I imagine to protect the nation's vital woollen trade, meant that, if convicted, Henry would be liable to be transported for life, or at least for not less than seven years or to serve a lengthy term of imprisonment.

The only witness against him was another boy,  Francis Braily, aged fifteen.  Who gave evidence thus:

"I am porter to Mr. Rudall, a carrier.  I was in company with the prisoner on the evening of the 17th of July, at a public house, in St, Thomas;  two other boys were in company. We left at twelve o' clock We went into the Rack Field, and sung for about half an hour.   Before we went away Henry Colman went up to the rack, took out his pen-knife, and cut one of the blankets right across. I called him a fool then, and he went to the next blanket, cut it across and cut a piece right out.  I went out of the field, wished him good night, and went home.

Cross-examined -  I told of it because it was not the right thing for the gentleman to have his property cut up.  I'll swear that that's the reason.  No one came to me....  I was took up to the Guildhall  - not by force.... I have been in prison - in the county - on suspicion of a waistcoat - of stealing it.  That was six months ago.  I was tried at the Sessions, and staid in prison a month after the trial.  I was in the service of Mr. Manley, the butcher, after that, I was not turned off for suspicion of stealing.  I was in Mr. Lendon, the cheesemonger's employ.  I was not turned off on a charge of robbing a little girl of three pence-ha'penny  - (laughter).... There was a charge of that kind.  I was turned off from Mr. Lendon on that charge....I am in no person's employ now.  I was in John Rudall's employ; I left about a month ago.  

At this point little Francis Braily was in tears but Judge and Jury found him hilarious and had clearly come to the conclusion that his evidence was worthless.   Henry, moreover, had people ready to give him a good character and so the judge, Tom Pooley's judge, John Taylor Coleridge, discharged  him with immediate effect.

Henry had been in prison for three weeks but no heed was given to that, nor to the fact that he had been three weeks on tenterhooks.

That these little lads were out drinking in a pub until midnight and then singing in a field for a half-hour before they went home gives a glimpse of teenage life in 1843.  Well, it was perhaps not all that unlike some Exeter College teenagers in 2024!

Source:  The Western Times,   6th August, 1843.

A TUCK UNDER THE EAR, EXETER, 1843.

Before the Police Court at Exeter Guildhall in July 1843 an employee, unnamed by the newspaper, complains that he has been assaulted by his employer:

"Mr. Samuel Roach, landlord of the Bull Inn was charged with knocking down a man in his employ, on Monday last.  The complainant stated that they had a quarrel, in the course of which Mr. Roach knocked him down with great violence.  

"Mr. Roach, on being asked what he had to say to this, replied, 'Well, I think he has told you pretty well the truth.  I went up into the brew house and found him quite drunk; then, when I spoke to him, he began to be saucy, as well as he could speak and I just gave him a little tap with my flat hand, like this, and, Lord bless you, he went right down..'

"MAYOR - It is no matter, you have no business to take the law into your own hands.

"Mr. ROACH - No, I know I have not, but it is a terrible trial to have a drunken fellow like that; you can't depend on such a man.  I have served him like that many times before, just to give him a tuck under the ear;  I should not wish to hurt the fellow.

"Mr. KINGDON - I expect your pats are very hard pats.  You are a very strong, powerful fellow.

"Mr. ROACH - Why, I tell ye,  when he came to me we agreed if I caught him drunk I should flog him - (laughter).   Fined 2s 6d.

"Mr. Roach has been a prize fighter in his day, is about six feet high, and at least proportionately stout and strong."

The 'complainant' seems to have been a 'fellow' of so little significance that he is not even named but the wonderfully independent and confident Mr. Sam. Roach of the Bull Inn, (Goldsmiths Street) six foot high and a sometime prize-fighter and also, incidentally, a sportsman and owner of racehorses is a man to be respected.  Predictably the Court is not too hard on him.  Perhaps not even the Mayor wants to make an enemy of him, after all no one wants to risk a tuck under the ear that knocks you down. 

Source: The Western Times, 29th July 1843.

A MONEY CLUB, EXETER, 1843.

"Elizabeth Bunclark was summoned for using abusive language to Harriet Fulford. Defendant kept what is called a money club;  a number of women (in this case 42) subscribe 1s a-week each, and every Saturday they draw lots for a prize of two guineas. The ticket being transferable, it is not uncommon, towards the end of a drawing to give as much as 10s or 12s for a chance in this lottery.

"Mrs. Fulford had not paid her week's subscription; defendant called on her to dun her for it, and assailed her with a volley of abuse.  

"As it appeared that although defendant, as well as the witnesses, was in the street (Spiller's-lane)  Mrs, Fulford was within the door of her house, the Bench were of opinion that the squabble was not an offence against the Improvement Act, and dismissed the case.

"We understand that measures will be taken for prosecuting Bunclark for keeping an illegal gambling house."

They sound like a jolly bunch, the merry wives of Spiller's Lane (St. Sidwells).  I can imagine them gathering together for the draw, with the odds shortening and the deals being done, and it seems a pity that Mrs. Bunclark's run-in with Mrs. Fulford should have come to court. 

Source: The Western Times,  22nd July 1843.

   

STRENGTH LIKE AN ELEPHANT, EXETER, 1843.

"John Tarrant, a man who has been employed by the Corporation of the Poor on the North-road and elsewhere, was charged with stealing a shovel, their property, which had been lent him to work with.

"It appeared he parted with it to one Vicary, and received 1s.6d. and 'a quart;' but he asserted that he only lent it him.

"Mr. KINGDON - I know you very well; you are a most extraordinary drunkard, and the idlest man employed on that road - and yet you are the strongest man I know.  Why your strength is like an elephant.  If you liked, you could work harder than any man I know.

"Tarrant's wife here said he was troubled with fits, and could not sit long cracking stones;  he did all he could to support his family.  

"Mr. Justice KINGDON said he ought to support three families; he was strong enough, if he would work, to do the work of any two men.  If they (the Bench) were desirous of giving a premium to villainy, they now had a good opportunity.

"Mr. BLACKALL said he considered that the man, even if he lent the shovel, was disposing improperly of the property of the Corporation.   There was a penalty for this of not more than £5, or less than 20s.

"He was then fined 20s., with the alternative of taking a fortnight at the House of Correction.  But strong as he was he could not raise even a single pound, and therefore he had to forfeit his liberty for that period."

It is noteworthy, perhaps, that although John Tarrant is before the Magistrates for selling a shovel that belongs to the Corporation of the Poor, the Mayor of Exeter who knows very well that John Tarrant is as strong as an elephant, is more concerned that the man breaks too few stones for the North Road and that, as a pauper given work, he never pulls his weight and that he drinks too much.   I suppose it all comes to the same thing for poor John - a fortnight in the House of Correction.

And The Times' columnist has to have his corny pun.

Ah well!

Source: The Western Times, 13th May, 1843.

DOWN THE DUNINKEN, EXETER, 1843.

In August 1843, the good citizens of Exeter were shocked by the extraordinarily violent attack on Mr. Barnes, a popular doctor of medicine, who was left lying half dead in an unmade road which led over open fields. The prosecuting counsel's detailed description of the place give an idea of the state of that part of Exeter in 1843:

"Gentlemen, Mr. Barnes lives in a place called the Barnfield, in this city.  On the night of the 15th of August, abour ten o' clock, he was sent for to attend a lady, a patient, in Eton-place, which some of you probably know is just below Summerland-place.  There lies between the Barnfield, where Mr. Barnes lives, and Eton-place, some open fields; which are still used as pasture ground; cross roads run through them, one going up to Heavitree, and the other intersecting it going from Eton-place to the Magdalen-road. They are intended for public roads but not yet made so.  This road has never been lighted, and therefore it is a dark place at night." 

Two men, Thomas Westlake and Samuel Houghton, and a woman, Mary Evans, were convicted of this felonious assault and robbery and sentenced to be transported. The case at the Assize Court was covered in full detail by The Western Times, 8th April 1843.  Below is a snippet of the turnkey's evidence that I found of interest:

"Thomas Tickell, turnkey at the city prison.  On the 2 th, (sic), Samuel Houghton was given into my custody.  I had a conversation with him, but held out no threat or promise.  He said he expected to be transported for 10 or 14 years, as they had done it between them.

"[Houghton - I never said a word to you about it, how can you stand there and tell such lies, look in my face and say so.]  

"He said they spent their last shilling in beer, and then went out to get money from somebody, and robbed Mr. Barnes, but never thought the woman would split on them. I overheard a conversation that Houghton had with another prisoner.  At one time Houghton said that 'his watch' was jewelled in three holes.  I asked what watch he meant, and he replied, the watch he had from Mr. Barnes.  I overheard Houghton on the 11th of October, say to James Heartzoake another prisoner, that the things he committed the robbery in were those found at his lodgings, not those he was found in,  He said he had swallowed two sovereigns , and that they were down the duninken.

"[prisoner during the latter part of the examination said witness was a villain, and had hatched up the story, for it was not likely he would have told him so, he would ask any one present if it was likely.  He also expressed his 'astonishment that God A'mighty did not strike him dead' as a warning to all turnkeys that nosed on their charges."

'Thomas Tickell the turnkey,'  is worthy of a Victorian novelist! 

The judge, summing up,  said he did not approve of turnkeys, or prison officers, getting prisoners into conversations, to be afterwards used against them.  Their business was to keep the prisoners in safe custody. 

I wrote about the unfortunate James Heartzoake/ Heartsoke. THE GROCER AND THE EXCISEMAN.

So, Houghton swallowed the evidence which now was down the duninken.   As dunnekin  the word is, I find, both English dialect and in use in the former colonies. It means, of course, the lavatory pan.

A WILD CHILD, EXETER, 1843.

 Charles Underhill was one of those little, wild boys that no one can deal with:  the Auxiliary County Sessions at the Castle of Exeter (viz. 3 local magistrates) thought the answer was to send this eleven-year-old to prison for six weeks with hard labour (he probably wasn't big enough to sit at the treadmill) and to be whipped twice into the bargain.  He was a thief but it was clear that his mother encouraged him to steal as probably did the receiver, Mrs. Downing.  These days, and such boys do still exist, he might be sent to the Regional Secure Unit in Polsloe to sit in a comfy armchair and be pampered by social workers, but  neither approach can do much to remove the curse that is on Charlie and other such benighted children:  

 "Charles Underhill,  a boy of 11, was charged with stealing, on the 14th Feb., from a vessel called the Flora, belonging to Wm. Fursman, and then lying in the basin of Exeter, 3 lbs. of copper being part of the funnel of the stove of that vessel.

"From the evidence of a boy, named James Rookes, it appeared that Underhill showed him a 'smutty thing' at the Basin which he said was copper - that he beat it out with a stone, and afterwards took a portion of it to a Mrs. Downing, to whom he sold it for 9d, and that another boy, named Beaumont, sold the remainder to a man called Bolt.

"It seemed Mrs. Downing at first refused to receive the property, but was induced to do so by the assurance of prisoner's mother.

"The CHAIRMAN commented severely on her conduct  saying she had narrowly escaped prosecution on this occasion.

"He was sentenced to six weeks' imp., hard labour, twice to be whipped."

The little villain was down at Exeter Basin, most likely in the middle of the night, bashing away at the copper sheathing of 'Flora's' stove with a stone just to earn a few pennies.  The family were probably starving.

He showed off the 'smutty thing' to little Jimmy Rookes before he, and his mum?, took it to Mrs. Downing.

Source: The Western Times,  4th March 1843.

AN INCRIMINATING TIPPET, DAWLISH, 1843.

 "Stealing from a parcel. - The wife of a porter at one of the inns, in this place, has been charged with the above offence which, we are sorry to say is one of frequent occurence here.  It appears that a lady of the neighbourhood had occasion, a few weeks since, to send to London for a dress, and in the course of its transit here, it had to pass through the porter's hands, and while in his custody his wife opened it and cut off one yard;  adjusted the parcel again, and carried it home.

"The lady, finding one yard gone,  wrote to the house in London for an explanation; a correspondence took place between the parties, the result of which was, that the shopman who served the order was immediately dismissed, and in fact charged with  embezzling the property.

"Nothing more was known of it for several weeks, but at last, whilst coming from church one Sunday, the lady espied a piece of the same fabric on a child's back in the shape of a scarf or tippet.  Upon enquiries she soon found that it had been presented to the child's parents by the porter's wife, who, upon being charged with the theft, at first denied it, but ultimately confessed it and begged forgiveness, which was granted on account of her family."

It seems a remarkable theft, to open up a parcel, find a dress and cut off a yard of material and tie up the parcel again and send it happily on its way. It couldn't happen  today in the Dawlish we know -  drug pushers, yes, but dress slashers, never !

And then the remarkable way in which the lady, after church on Sunday, sees a scrap of her lost dress  material around a child's neck. 

The porter's wife begs for forgiveness, and receives it.  There is, however, a shopman in London who has lost his job.  I hope he is re-instated.

Tippet is a pleasing word.  There is something, I learn, called 'turning tippet', which is a more elegant way to saying: making a 'U-turn'.   Bring it back?

Source:  The Western News, 7th January, 1843.

MR. ASH'S APPRENTICE, STARCROSS, 1842.

This is one of those stories where one would like to know more!  Young John Passmore had sailed from Starcross to Halifax, Nova Scotia.  He was bullied on the voyage out so he absconded and it would seem that it was more than a year before he was brought up before the Bench in Exeter, charged as a runaway apprentice.

 "John Passmore, apprentice to Mr. Ash, of Starcross, was charged with absconding from his master's service.  The prisoner was serving on board one of Mr. Ash's ships, and deserted her at Halifax, Nova Scotia, in May 1841.   He pleaded ill-usage by one of the men on board, but the Bench told him this was no justification, and if his master pressed the case he must go to prison.

"Mr. Ash, however, on the magistrates' suggestion, said if he would consent to serve up the year and a half which he had lost, he would withdraw the complaint.

"This was agreed to, and the boy was discharged." 

I find myself wondering what adventures young John Passmore had during the year and a half he was a runaway in Canada.  I hope he was not too displeased with this outcome whereby, somehow, he was back with his old master and obliged to go to sea again.

The Exeter Bench, predictably, did not hesitate to rule that being ill-used by a shipmate did not invite investigation and could be no excuse for a young boy to jump ship.

Appropriately, Passmore, [passe-mer], is a grand old Devon surname implying a seafarer.  There are a few Passmores up and down the Exe estuary.

Source: The Western Times, 24th December 1842. 

CRYING DRUNK AND DRINKING TEA.

The Times, with cruel irony,  gives the title 'Ladies of the Fish Market' to this account of Mary Matthews' apearance before the Mayor and Magistrates at Exeter Guildhall in December 1842.  The 'ladies', at least two of them, tried hard to keep poor Mary out of prison after all her only offence was being drunk in charge of a fish-stall: 

"The venerable Superintendent stated that on the previous afternoon he found Mary sitting outside her stall, 'crying drunk and drinking tea'.  He saw that her condition was likely to augment the crowd of curious assembled to see a woman bemoaning herself in her cups, and went to the Guildhall for a policeman.

"Mary, however was wide awake to the move, and made a bolt, followed by a mob of idlers, and took refuge in a public house, whence she was soon dislodged, and conveyed to the station house.

"Mr. Barton - was she bailed?

"A Policeman - No, sir, she has been here all night.

"Mary - I was taking a cup of tea; there was nothing particularly amiss with me, and when there is they make such a noise about it in the market.  Mary attempted to finish with a little crying, but the tears refused to flow.

"Another lady of the Fish Market here stepped forward saying she was Mary's aunt and wished to speak for her.

"Mary's Aunt - Your worships , she was quiet enough and only taking a cup of tea with me to freshen her.

"Mr. S. Kingdon - Tea?

"Mary's Aunt - Yes - sure!  She wasn't much gone, she's been drunker than that many times.

"Mr. S. Kingdon - I have not a doubt of it.; if you had put her under a pump and pumped on her for half an hour that would have done her good.

"The Superintendent - Before I saw her she had been using foul and obscene language. Mrs. Pomeroy, who heard it can be called.

"Mary -  And when Mrs. Pomeroy is drunk, doesn't she run about with a knife in her hand.

"Mr. Kingdon - and when you're drunk, you're not afraid of a hundred women with knives.

"Another lady of the market, whose nose was a good deal damaged, apparently from a recent thump, now came forward to plead for Mary, but she pleaded in vain.

"Mr. Barton - Did Mary give you that nose?

"The lady - No, the basket did it.  Wont your worships let her off.  I'll go bail she wont get drunk again.

"The Mayor - She must pay the fine, or go to the House of Correction.

"The lady - [with a curtsey and a kind look] - do say a little less, your Worship.

"The Mayor - No.

"The lady - [with a lower curtsey and a kinder look] - Will your Worship give us a week to pay in.

"The Mayor - She must pay or go  to prison.

"The lady - [imploringly] - Well,  give us credit for two or three days.

"The Mayor - She must be removed now, and when you have raised the money go and take her out." 

So, the Superintendent (of Police) found Mary bemoaning herself at the new (1838) Higher Market but needed to fetch a constable.  When they returned she had gone but he considered her offence so grave that he pursued the poor girl into a public house and she spent the night in a prison cell.  

The pleading of the aunt and the 'lady' with the curtseys and the kind looks suggests that there was an admirable solidarity among Exeter's market women.  

Again and again I am amazed by the lowly citizens' familiarity with the magistrates -   Do say a little less, your Worship!  

Sam. Kingdon's comments about putting young Mary under the pump for half an hour would raise a few eyebrows these days.

I notice The Times does not find an apostrophe here, and in other places, for won't.  I wonder how general this was. 

Mary's aunt's use of sure!, to mean for sure surprised me.  Could it be a usage Exeter exported to the United States rather than the other way round? 

A YOUNG HEBREW, EXETER, 1842

From the same column that I quoted from the day before yesterday in The Western Times of 26th November, 1842, we learn that the Mayor of that year, Samuel Kingdon, began his career as Chief Magistrate at Exeter Guildhall by summoning drapiers of the Hebrew Persuasion for hanging out their clothes in front of the line of their walls and windows.  Rumour had it that there was one such business opposite Sam Kingdon's house and it irked him..   

In any case he rounded up four of the Hebrew persuasion and fined them five shillings each for this misdemeanour.  They were none of them too browbeaten by their day in court and, as so often in Exeter Guildhall, one has the impression that there was a certain levity about the proceedings, or maybe that is only 'the way The Times tells them'.

One of them, a Mr. Marks, looked around the Court and delivered the commendable sentence: I am a free-born Englishman as much as any gentleman here.  (A sentiment I have yet to hear from any of the many Islamists that share our small island.) 

But my favourite was young Mr. Mordecai Hart, who, it seems, preferred to be called Mark, who clearly was as sharp as a needle:  

MARK HART was the next Hebrew summoned; but it appeared that they had given him the wrong name - Mordecai and not Mark was he called by.  He was summoned for hanging out his clothes.  Mr Mordecai was very fiery and peppery - he declared that when the officer came he had his clothes all in - he had a pretty sharp eye of his own - in fact a Jew's eye - and he could see the officer.  

"LASCELLES, the active officer, who has a decent orb of his own, averred that the offence was actually seen, whereupon Mr. Hart asked how he was to get his living if he could not expose his goods.

"THE MAYOR could not see what difference it would make if they were all put upon the same footing.

"MR HART - I've seen Mr. Kingdon's key hanged out - I shall have a summons for him - (laughter)

MR. SAM. KINGDON. - I have no objection—you are little sharp —how come you keep two shops ? 

MR. HART—Because one won't answer. 

"MR. HART -  KINGDON - You are very sharp—l could say a sharp thing upon you. 

"Mr. HART—Very well, sir—l should have some answer for it. 

"Mr. SAM. KINGDON would not take up the challenge to this keen encounter of wits, and so the public are not able to decide which is sharper. 

"His withdrawal from the combat appeared to excite the young Hebrew to deeds of daring.  He waxed warm, took off his coat, and we feared that he was about to prove his English descent and challenge to the collective Bench to step out and let him maintain the reputation of tbe Hebrew school after the fashion of Mendoza,  Aby Belasco, and Dutch Sam.

"After flourishing the garment to and fro he tendered it to the Bench,  saying, 'you had better take my coat next.'

" THE MAYOR—l cannot hear any indecent language— you are fined five shillings. 

"He offered his coat in payment, but there was not a Magistrate on the bench that could by any means get into it—and if it had fitted any one they could not have permitted so gross a breach of the truck laws as to have received it.  Defendant was first inclined to resist the law even to imprisonment, but eventually put on his coat and paid the fine."

To be worth a Jew's eye, was apparently a common idiom meaning that something was worth a great price.

Daniel Mendoza, Aby Belasco and Dutch Sam were all champion boxers of the Regency years.  They were all Jewish.  Dutch Sam was known as The Terrible Jew.   Here they are being remembered long after their pugilistic careers. 

Incidentally, the only man who managed ever to beat Dutch Sam was Bill Nosworthy, an Exeter baker,  who met Dutch Sam before a record crowd at Mousley Hurst, on Tuesday 8th December 1814 - I quote from For Love of Williamina,  Agre Books, 2001: 'Before the fight Dutch Sam was reported as saying to Nosworthy: 'So help me Cot!  Bill.  I will not only fight you first but I will afterwards take you home and nurse you like one of my  own children!'  So, it would seem the 'staredown' is no new phenomenon.  Bill Nosworthy died in Lympstone in 1816.

I can't work out what is meant by truck law but it sounds like something Keir Starmer should have observed.

A HIRED SANGUINARY ASSASSIN, EXETER, 1842

The Western Times of  8th October 1842 tells at some length a story of the Landlord of the Ship Inn, John Roberts,  and a  Recruiting Corporal of Marines, Corporal Thomas Apley, who had been handing out the Queen's shilling to Exeter lads for some nine months.  The corporal was a remarkably powerful man standing about six foot high.  The Plaintiff was very much the lesser man.

At one point in the trial the attorney for the plaintiff said:  "the service which he followed, and the clothes which he wore, the allegience he owed the queen, and the gratitude which he owed to the people who paid for the various trappings which adorned his person, and for the rations which kept his body up - these all should have bound the corporal over to a knowledge of the Queen's peace and his duty to preserve it."

But the Bench heard how Corporal Apley had been mightily provoked  the plaintiff had called him a  " .... hired sanguinary assassin, to which he added a  "foul and loathsome epithet.  If you call me that name again John (said defendant) I will knock you down.  He repeated the name the corporal kept his word, and and floored him - he admitted it.  The corporal seemed to be labouring under a mistake.  He apparently imagined that being sworn to maintain the Queen's honour and dignity, and the national weal by deeds of arms - that he was entitled to excercise his gallant calling in defenceof his own honour and dignity - and that he could declare war on his own account but the Bench did not encourage him to hold this belief , for although Sergeant Herbert took his corporal oath in support of the corporal's statement yet the Bench decreed that no provocation would justify the assault.  They admitted, however, that the disgusting and abusive language of the plaintiff must come in mitigation and administered the lowest fine - one shilling and costs."

I was impressed by the idea that there was in 1842, apparently, something like a contract between the public and its servants which is expressed here.  We have lost all trace of it.  There was a time, that I remember, when soldiers felt their 'service' was to the nation.  Now we have no nation, and soldiers, and policemen think and act ever more like the servants of a sometimes tyrannical government.  On the other hand 'society' expresses little or no gratitude to its 'servants'.  I can recall, for a trivial example, as a young soldier in uniform, being ushered into the best seats at the local cinema free of charge.  Nowadays soldiers in uniform just get stabbed.

The Ship Inn, I assume, is the same one in Martin's Lane which Drake is said to have visited and where 'royals' still visit.   They were already 'royal' in Corporal Apley's day. 

These days those who abuse have a strikingly degenerate and limited vocabulary. -   Discuss!

But I think perhaps the witty writer of the column is paraphrasing!

Corporal Oath is a pun worthy of The Times.  A corporal  (corporax), as in the legal term corporal oath, being sacred cloth such as covers the host or indeed , who now believes?, the binding of the Holy Bible.  

THE GROCER AND THE EXCISEMAN, EXETER, 1842.

The Western Times of 17th September 1842 published this tragic tale: 

"On Tuesday last, an individual, of repectable exterior, named James Heartsoak, was brought before the Bench at the Guildhall charged with the following gross outrage.  It appears that the prisoner, who is a officer of excise, and a lodger of the prosecutor, (whose private residence is situated in Clarence Place,  Blackboy Road,) came home on Monday night last about half-past 1 o'clock and knocked furiously at the door for admission;  but in consequence of the prisoner having kept very irregular hours for some time previously, and notwithstanding repeated warnings, persisted in this inconvenient practice."Mr. Jury came to a determination not to admit him at these unseemly hours, and accordingly on the present occasion, no notice was taken of his knocking.  After a short time the prisoner left, with the intention, it is presumed, of endeavourung to procure a lodging for the night.  In about 5 or 10 minutes afterwards, however, another tremendous knocking was heard at the door which seemed from the sound to be yielding to the violence, when Mr. Jury rose from his bed, and, raising the window sash, he saw the prisoner raise a pistol at him, said, "If you don't let me in, I'll blow your brains out." and immediately fired.  Part of the contents of the pistol, which missed Mr. Jury, lodged in the left cheek of his wife who had, by this time also arisen from bed, and was standing by the side of her husband.  Fearing still further violence from the prisoner, Mr. Jury then threw the key of the door over the stairs, and the prisoner was admitted by his sister, and proceeded to his room.

Mr. Jury then went down to the prisoner's room to remonstrate with him, when the former, a second time narrowly escaped with his life - the prisoner, who had in his hands a pistol and a cleaver, threatening to take away his life.

In the mean time,  a general alarm having been created, Inspector Taylor and another watchman were attracted to the spot, and by Mr, Jury's directions the prisoner was given into custody and removed to the station house." 

Mr. Jury was a grocer on the High Street and I get the impression that he and his mother and his wife were a pretty mean bunch.  The pistol was loaded with shot.

James Heartsoake was young and good-looking and of a respectable appearance.  and his Captain,  Captain Bennison, - he had been working on the hulks - gave him a good character but this did not stop an Exeter Assize Jury from finding him guilty nor a 'merciful' Judge from sentencing him to transportation for life.  We know from the shipping records that he survived the voyage and a year later, listed as James Heartzoke,  he arrived on Norfolk Island to serve his life sentence in Australia.

All he wanted was to get to bed!

And poor Mrs. Jury with her wounded cheek,  although I suspect she made the most of it.

And, hey alas, the poor sister!

 

SALLY RAG, EXETER, 1842

In September 1842, at the Exeter police court, "Sally Rag" charged a man named Weeks with assault:

"in proof of which Sally exhibited a mutilated cap, which she declared had, among other garments, been savagely torn from her person by the defendant.

"It turned out, however, that this damage was but slight compared with the injury which Weeks had sustained at the hands of the enraged Amazon, who had literally battered the defendant's person as effectually as if he had been subjected to the practiced manipulations of a prize fighter, whilst Sally came off victorious with the loss only of her cap.

"The Bench, agreeing from the evidence that the defendant had been "more sinned against than sinning," dismissed the complaint."

"This denouement was wholly unexpected by Sally, who was about to indulge in a sally of spleen and disappoinment, when she was hastily removed."

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'Sally Row' was the nickname given to a Mrs. Gibson whom The Western Times  described as an Amazon, a virago and a terror.  She put fear into her neighbourhood , namely the Black Boy Road (Blackboy Road.)   It was also well known in the neighbourhood that she exercised her pugilistic skill at home on the shoulders of her meek and long suffering 'better half.'

I still find what seems to me to be a disproportionate number of 'assertive women' with fists like cabbages in that part of Exeter beyond Eastgate.  It must be something in the water! 

Source:  The Western Times,   September 3rd, 1842.