Author: Volunteers

The Ram Jam Inn: ‘House of Drunkards’

If you’re travelling on the A1 you will have seen The Ram Jam Inn. Originally a thriving coaching inn, it now sits on the side of the road between Stamford and Grantham, looking a little worse for wear. It is said that Dick Turpin was a frequent guest, with stories of the lawbreaker up-to-no-good at the establishment. However, in 1823, another theory of how the Ram Jam got its name came to print in the Stamford Mercury…

“Travellers on the great North road are puzzled with the meaning of the “Ram Jam House,” near Greetham Inn. The vulgar opinion has been that it arose from an unintelligible exclamation of a man made drunk with the ale he found there- “Ram Jam, by. G-!” The true origin of the word may, however, be found in the language of Indostan, where Ramjam signifies a drunkard. Ramjam house must therefore mean the house of drunkards, which probably was not the intention of the magistrates who renewed the license, nor of the respectable persons who keep the house- Rees’ Cyclo., art. Drunkenness”

Stamford Mercury, 23 February 1823.

The Philosopher’s Stone

Even if you haven’t heard of J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter series, the philosopher’s stone is legendary. In 1823, a letter from New York states the efforts made to discover the stone and the philosophical instruments designed to bring about the creation of diamonds.

“PHILOSOPHER’S STONE.- A letter from New York, dated June 9, says – “If the long-sought-for philosopher’s stone, by which baser substances could be transmuted into gold, has not yet been found, an invention of still greater importance has at length crowned the efforts of American chymists. It has long been known that the diamond, the most precious of all substances, is composed of carbon in its pure state. But although the powers of chymical analysis have been sufficient by repeated experiments clearly to establish this fact, yet the knowledge of it was of no practical importance to the world, because the powers of synthesis failed, and no mode had been devised of imitating nature by uniting the constituents of this precious gem. In other words, the philosopher was able to convert diamonds into carbon, but he was ignorant of the art of converting carbon into diamonds. If the experiments of Professor Silliman can be relied on, this desideratum has in part been supplied. The last number of his Journal of Science contains an article on the philosophical instrument called the Deflagrator, invented by Professor Hare, of Philadelphia, by which it appears that charcoal, plumbago, and anthracite, have been fused by the power of that instrument, and transmuted into diamonds”. “

Stamford Mercury, 18 July, 1823.

A Curious Funeral

The act of body snatching wasn’t uncommon in 19th century Britain, so a grieving father went to extreme lengths to protect his son’s body during his funeral. Armed with wire and explosives, a crowd drew to the graveside as they watched the man pour gunpowder over the coffin. However, the gravedigger feared for his life with every shovel of earth poured – dreading an explosion!

“DUNDEE FUNERAL.- Curiosity drew together a crowd of people on Monday, at Dundee, to witness the funeral of a child, which was consigned to the grave in a novel manner. The father, in terror of the resurrection men, has caused a small box, enclosing some deathful apparatus, communicating by means of wires with the four corners, to be fastened on the top of the coffin. Immediately before it was lowered into the earth, a large quantity of gunpowder was poured into the box, and the hidden machinery put into a state of readiness for execution. The common opinion was, that if any one attempted to raise the body, he would be blown up. The sexton seemed to dread an immediate explosion; for he started back in alarm after throwing in the first shovelful of earth.- Scotch Paper.“

Stamford Mercury, 1 August, 1823.

Trampled in Red Lion Square

Nowadays, you will see more cars than horses on the public streets of Stamford. In 1826, however, Elizabeth Stockdale was trampled in Red-Lion square by a horse riding at great speed. After the magistrates had agreed on the recklessness of those who deliberately try the paces of horses in public, the offender was released from custody and left with a hefty price to pay.

“CAUTION.- At Stamford town-hall on Tuesday night, John Palmer, horse-dealer, of Oundle, was brought up in custody, to answer the complaint of Elizabeth Stockdale, whom he had severely injured by riding over her in Red Lion-square, about three o’clock in the afternoon. It seemed from the evidence of the poor woman and others, that Palmer, whilst dealing in the fair, and trying the paces of a horse, rode at a very rapid rate from Peter-hill, and suddenly turning into Red Lion-square, went furiously amongst a number of persons in that great thoroughfare, to the imminent hazard of the lives and limbs of all of them. Eliz. Stockdale and two children whom she had in her care were violently thrown down, and she was so severely hurt as to become insensible, until restored through the aid of a medical gentleman living near the spot.- Palmer attempted a vindication of himself by alleging that the horse which he had been induced to mount proved to be vicious and unmanageable, and he expressed his contrition for what had occurred. After some suitable observations from the magistrates on the scandalous carelessness of dealers and others who try the paces of horses in the public streets, Palmer was allowed to make satisfaction to the complainant for the surgeon’s charges and the injury she had received; and on further payment of fees, he was discharged from custody.”

Stamford Mercury, 10 February, 1826.

Where’s the Driver?

In the 21st century, we’ve all heard about self-driving cars, but what about driverless coaches – led by horses..? In 1816, by sheer accident, a horse- drawn coach started without its coachman. The horses carried their coach, containing two passengers, three miles before it got into difficulty! Astonishingly, neither the passengers or horses were harmed.

“On Monday afternoon the Peterborough Perseverance Coach stopped, as usual, at the Royal Oak public-house in Walton, and the coachman entrusted his horses to the care of a man who attends to give them water, whilst he and the guard went into the house. From some cause unknown, as the man was adjusting the reins, the horses set off towards Peterboro’, and went at so regular a pace, that the two inside passengers (a lady and a gentleman) were not aware that they were without a coachmam, until they reached Peterboro’, where, in passing the corner of Westgate-street into the Long Causeway, the coach (in consequence of the sharpness of the turn) was upset. The passengers escaped without the least injury, as did also the horses; and we understand that the lady and gentleman do not attribute any blame either to the coachman or guard; indeed, they declared so to one of the proprietors and several other persons at Peterboro’. The distance which the horses drew the coach without a driver is about three miles, and they passed through two toll-bars.”

Stamford Mercury, 13 September, 1816.

You’re Never Too Old to Give Birth

It has been heard that unplanned or unexpected pregnancies come as a shock. Visits to the doctor, thinking you have one thing and walking out knowing another. In 1827, Mrs Webb got the shock of her life when she gave birth to her first child at the age of 60.

“Mrs. Webb, of No.15, Bowyer-lane, Camberwell, a married woman, who keeps a little school, and is now in the sixtieth year of her age, was on Thursday night the 7th inst. brought to bed of a girl, after having been for some time treated for the dropsy, by Dr. Walshman; both the mother and infant are likely to do well. It is singular that Mrs. Webb had never before been in the family way: she consequently made no preparations for such an event, but was expected to die of the decline of life. Her husband, a labouring man, is older than herself, and she has occupied her present dwelling for the period of 42 years.- English Chronicle, June 12.”

Stamford Mercury, 15 June, 1827.

How to get Arrested for Polygamy

The text below reads like the plot of a movie. Woman meets man, they marry, all is well… until he realises she’s a fraud – with six husbands. While polygamy is illegal in the UK, it didn’t stop this woman from tricking a handful of men into marriage and subsequently robbing them of all their belongings!

“At Bow-street last week, Hannah Andrews, alias Goodman, alias Eagles, alias Reynolds, a good looking, stout Welsh woman, about 28 years of age, was charged with poligamy, having, it is said, no fewer than six husbands!

Two of the men attended to prove the case against the lady. The first was Henry Goodman, a tall, handsome man, about 30 years of age, who has respectable connections at Worcester and Birmingham. He was attending Wolverhampton market in May last, when the lady introduced herself to him, and by dint of insinuating manners soon wooed herself into his good graces: they touched upon marriage, and having apprised him that she had property at Cheltenham worth 1400l., besides a tolerable sum in ready cash, she said she was a widow, and of all men she had seen he was most to her fancy. Mr Goodman soon became equally pleased with her, and her attractions had so blinded him, that she actually took him to the Wolverhampton bank, and contrived by a bold manoeuvre to persuade him that she had 395l. lodged there!

– Within a month they were married, and soon after the happy pair proceeded to Worcester, to visit Mr.G.’s brother, a professional man; whence they were to proceed to Cheltenham, to view the property there, but at Worcester the fair dame feigned illness, and to Cheltenham Mr.G. proceeded alone, and soon found (to use his own words) that all her estate was in the “Isle of Sky!” It was true that she had hired some premises, which she had never occupied, and during her visit to Cheltenham, she had contrived, by some well-managed tears, to dupe a lawyer of 20l. Upon his return to Worcester, the husband found that his frail rib had left that place within an hour after his departure for Cheltenham, and had proceeded to Birmingham, where she had obtained property of tradesmen, in his name, to a considerable extent, had carried off from his house all the portable property he possessed, and had then decamped. He had afterwards the satisfaction of finding that she had three other husbands.

– A similar “tale of woe” was told by a Mr. Eagles, another husband, whom she plundered to a much greater extent. The woman conducted herself in the most audacious manner during the examination, laughing loudly, and ogling first one man and then another.

– She was convicted on two indictments at the Old Bailey sessions, and sentenced to seven years’ transportation for each offence.”

Stamford Mercury, 30 January, 1829.

Wife-selling in the 18/19th centuries, continued

Three further articles in our occasional series on the UK custom of wife-selling during the 18th and 19th centuries.

“On Tuesday se’nnight a fellow at Clipsham, in Rutland, publicly sold his wife, and a child about 7 months old, to a person living at Clipsham Quarries, for the sum of 10l. 5s.–The money was paid down, and the woman delivered to the purchaser in a halter.–It was the general opinion of the lookers on, that halters for two other persons were wanted, to make the bargain as binding as it should be.”

Stamford Mercury, 9 October 1818.

wife-selling

“Last Tuesday a Staymaker in Little Moorfields sold his wife, to whom he had been married several Years, to a Winedrawer near the said Place, and the same Day was married to a young Woman in the Neighbourhood.”

Stamford Mercury, 29th May, 1746.

“On Saturday morning last, one of the labouring bankers employed near Boston went to the market accompanied by his wife, for the purpose of disposing of her to the best bidder. According to the usual custom, he purchased a new halter, for which he gave 6d., and having tied it round his wife’s neck, he paraded her along the street, the impudent hussey being nothing loth to this public display of her attractions. A purchaser soon appeared, who bid eighteen-pence ! for the woman and the rope, and he and her husband soon came to terms. A bargain was struck, and the shameless parties retired, amid the jeers of the assembled crowd, to a public-house, where the money was spent, and the former owner of the woman drank to the luck of the purchaser, and the jade declared she was quite satisfied with the transfer, for she had ‘got the lad she loved !'”

Stamford Mercury, 26th June 1829.

Child Chimney-Sweepers

In the late 16th century, children from poor families were assigned as apprentice chimney-sweepers to help cure large numbers of unemployment in the city. However, the article below details one of many instances where children were kidnapped from their families in order to climb and clean complicated chimney flues. Not only did these children have to overcome the suffocating, pitch-black, claustrophobic conditions of the flue, but some were forced to work more quickly by their master lighting a fire at the bottom of the chimney!

“A chimney-sweeper, named James Wilkes, travelled down from Lincoln in one of the steam-packets to Boston on Thursday the 18th inst., accompanied by an interesting-looking boy, about six years old. This child he took care should be in his sight as much as possible during the voyage; but, notwithstanding his caution, the boy availed himself of an opportunity to communicate something to one of the passengers, which induced that person to watch where the fellow took the child, and afterwards having procured the aid of a police-officer, they searched the premises, and rescued the unfortunate boy from the clutches of Wilkes, whose obvious intention was to make him labour in climbing chimneys. It is supposed that the parents reside in Yorkshire, and it may be imagined how intense must have been the agony they have endured since their child was missed. On Friday, Wilkes was examined before the Magistrates of Boston, and remanded for further examination, to give time for due enquiry into the circumstances of the case.”

Stamford Mercury, 26 June 1829.

Well, Well, Well

Have you ever considered paying somebody to say what was well about you? Upon her death, a woman who lived in Clerkenwell requested just that. The hired preacher set a date and wrote the sermon. However, what he said during her funeral differed slightly from what the deceased had originally requested…

” A WICKED WOMAN.- In the licentious days of King Charles II. lived a woman of the name of Creswell, who kept a house of ill-fame, to which resorted Lord Rochester, and many other libertines. This wretch at length was seized by death, when she desired, by will, to have a sermon preached at her funeral, for which she ordered that the preacher should receive 10l.; but only on this express condition, that he was to say nothing but what was well of her. This was a quibbling age. A preacher was procured, not, it seems, without some difficulty; thus, then, he performed his office. His sermon had no reference whatever to her, it being on the general practice of morality; and he concluded with -“All I shall say of her, therefore, is as followeth;- She was born well, she lived well, and she died well; for she was born with the name of Cres-well, she lived in Clerken-well, and she died in Bride-well.””

Stamford Mercury, 31 October 1823.