Mercuriosities

How well-worn is the path from fagging to the Bullingdon Club to the House of Commons, ever onwards and upwards to the Lords ? … now there’s an interesting thesis just asking to be written. How ironic that Sir Alexander Malet thought that Parliament would seriously consider his complaint and help his cause. Nevertheless the Party goes on.

‘SCHOOL “FAGGING.”–A correspondence has taken place lately between Sir A. Malet, Bart. and the Rev. D. Williams, head-master of Winchester school. The circumstamces that called it forth are curious, and likely to excite much public discussion :–The younger brother of Sir A. Malet had, it seems, resisted the authority of one of the prefects, or senior boys, and was, on a complaint to that effect being made to the master, expelled, together with four of his young confederates, from school. Sir A. Malet remonstrated by letter to Dr. Williams, who, however, refused to revoke the sentence–on the principle, we presume, of the Medes and Persians, whose laws, whether absurd or otherwise, were held immutable. The whole injurious effects of what at public schools is called fagging, are here laid open. A high-spirited lad resists the semi-official, and perhaps unreasonable, authority of another lad, and is at once peremptorily expelled. Appeal is useless–the decree has gone forth–and his prospects, if not totally blasted, are at least materially injured, for life. Every Englishman, possessing the free and generous sentiments of one, must deprecate this over-abundant measure of punishment ; it savours of despotism, and can produce no possible benefit, but a great deal of harm. That a due subordination should be kept up at our public schools, which in many cases can count their hundreds, no one will dispute ; but that the caprice of the seniors (many of whom are the greatest tyrants on earth) should be unreservedly submitted to by the juniors, simply because the system of such slavery is old, and a relic of the feudal ages–is what none but a lazy tyrant can approve. Expulsion from so public a school as Winchester is a serious concern : it disqualifies its victim from entering either University, and sends him forth into life with a taint upon his character. The matter will come before Parliament.’

Stamford Mercury, 21st November, 1828.

Elopement in Galway. After having eight children with her husband a devout woman elopes with a Roman Catholic clergyman, followed by her husband in hot pursuit. Let’s hope it was worth it. The priest had access to a large number of novices through his role as their confessor. It’s Jimmy Savile with a Catholic twist. “Get thee to a nunnery”, indeed.

“Extraordinary elopement.–The Dublin Daily Express publishes an extraordinary story, received through its correspondent at Galway, relative to a Roman Catholic clergyman. “For the last few days,” says the writer, “the most painful rumours have been afloat, involving the honour of a family of high respectability in Galway. For self-evident reasons, I for the present withhold the names of the parties ; but as to the facts there is no second opinion. The report is prevalent, and believed to be true, that a Roman Catholic Priest, officiating in a chapel in Galway, and high in the confidence of his bishop, has eloped with the wife of a professional man, who leaves a young family of eight children and an affectionate husband. The lady was of very attractive appearance and manners, and was very constant in her attendance at the confessional where this priest officiated. Her husband has started in pursuit of the fugitives. What adds to the excitement is the fact that this priest was confessor to one of the Galway nunneries, where there are a large number of nuns and young novices : the friends of these ladies are, of course, in a very painful state of mind.”

Stamford Mercury, 27 March, 1863.

True British Oyl is a marvellous product. It cures everything from bruises to leprosy, from withered limbs to consumption, from coughs to rabies and, as an added bonus, maggots and mange in sheep. If you need a cure for ‘deafness to admiration’ (don’t we all ?) then this medication was made just for you.

‘By His Majesty’s Royal Letters Patent,

Is now Sold at the Printing Office in Stamford, and by the Men that carry this Mercury, the only True British Oyl, at One Shilling a Bottle.

WHICH is an effectual Remedy for many Disorders incident to human Bodies. It is an absolute Cure for all scorbutick and rheumatick Diseases, for all old Contusions and Contractions of the Nerves, or contracted and withered Limbs, Strains, Ulcers, old Sores, all fixed and wandering Pains : It discusses Nodes ; cures the Palsy ; Lameness, Swellings, Inflammations, St. Anthony’s Fire, King’s Evil ; takes away all Blackness of a Fall or Bruise in an Hour’s Time, and allays all Swellings that usually attend such Accidents : It cures all green Wounds and Cuts, if (speedily applied) by the first Intention : Is an almost infallible Remedy for the Rickets in Children ; is a certain Cure for the Leprosy of ever so long standing : very much helps to knit broken Bones, and is an excellent Antidote against Poison. Inwardly taken, it cures Ulcers of the Lungs, Shortness of Breath, Consumptions, Phthisick, Coughs, and almost all Disorders of the Breast or Lungs, it also cures Deafness to Admiration ; it cures all surfeits in Cows or Horses ; also Hardness or Stoppage in the Maw, the Maggots or Manage [sic] in Sheep, &c.

N. B. It will expel Poison, heal the Bite of a mad Dog, and is an absolute Cure for the most obstinate Itch that has baffled the Force of all other Medicines.

There is likewise the superfine Royal Oleum Britannicum, or the treble refined British Oil, which is an absolute Cure in all the Disorders above-mentioned, being extracted and refined in such a manner, as renders it four Times as efficacious as the common Sort, and (very suitable for such as cannot take that as it is) as fine as Amber, of a very pleasant Smell and grateful Taste. Price Three Shillings a Bottle.’

Stamford Mercury, 12 January, 1744.

As we mourn our own dear Queen Elizabeth II, we found this interesting piece about how the French mark the passing of their monarchs. The piece was published in 1837, just after Queen Victoria’s accession, so such things were of interest to the public. Presumably, if the clock exists today (somewhere?) it still marks the moment of death of Louis XVIII.

“In the courtyard of the Palace of Versailles is a clock with one hand, called l’Horologe de la mort du Roi. It contains no works, but consists merely of a face,in the form of a sun, surrounded by rays. On the death of a King the hand is set to the moment of his demise, and remains unaltered till his successor has rejoined him in the frave. The custom originated under Louis the Thurteenth, and continued till the Revolution. It was revived on the death of Louis the Eighteenth, and the hand still continues fixed on the precise moment of that Monarch’s death.”

The Stamford Mercury, 8th December, 1837.

We tend to look on trafficking of women as a feature of modern life, yet almost two hundred years ago men were luring English governesses to France on the pretext of good employment.

‘Caution to Governesses.–At the Mansion-house, London, on the 18th, Mr. Beard, solicitor, called attention to certain systematic attempts which were being made to prevail upon young women in this country, chiefly governesses, to go to France, by holding out to them tempting offers of employment and remuneration, but with the real though secret intention, as there was reason to believe, of entrapping them for purposes of prostitution. A few weeks ago many very respectable young women of the class alluded to were induced to reply to an advertisement which appeared in the Times, the result of which was to bring them into communication with a Mr. F. Robertson, who was supposed to be a Frenchman assuming an English surname. He (Mr. Beard) had letters which this Mr. Robertson had addressed to three young women, and all of which were to the same purport. Writing from an address in the Rue du Paradis-Poisonniere, he stated that he could introduce his correspondent as a governess to a highly-respectable French famiy, where it would be her duty to instruct, chiefly in English, two young ladies about 13 and 15 years of age. The writer added that the conditions of “our firm” were–commission 4l. to be paid in four months, at 1l. a month, and she would be expected to send immediately a post-office order for 1l., the first month’s commission, with her references. There was reason to believe that about 20 young women had been induced to embrace the offers held out to them and to go to Paris ; but on arriving there they discovered that they had been allured from their homes for immoral purposes. On the 17th, about as many more young women met Robertson by appointment at an office in Lower Thames-street, to make arrangements for going to Paris for situations which he had undertaken to procure them. The man in charge of the offices, surprised at seeing so many well-dressed lady-like women, and strongly suspecting something amiss, entered the room and mentioned his suspicions to the Frenchman. Robertson then left the place, and had not since been seen there, nor had the man in the occupation of the office in Lower Thames-street.’

Stamford Mercury, 27 March, 1863.

The villagers of Caistor were keen to witness the marriage of an elderly shoemaker to his housekeeper, the difference in their ages being 63 years! The couple, however, conspired to avoid the public and marry in secret.

“The quizzical portion of the inhabitants of Caistor have been during the past month considerably amused with the publication of the ‘bans of marriage‘ between Mr. Thomas Tomlinson, and eccentric ‘English gentleman of the olden times,’ aged 85! (formerly an eminent shoemaker – celebrated in his youthful day for ‘Tally O! the hounds, Sir,’ and throughout his protracted life for possessing ‘a light heart and a thin pair of breeches,’) to Elizabeth Jackson, his buxom housekeeper, a spinster, aged 22! No impediment was declared during three succeeding sabbaths ‘why these two persons should not be joined together his holy matrimony.’ Many great lords of the creation, – matrons, ‘looking unutterable things,’ – simpering misses, – and ready-made ‘fools thick as blackberries,’ for miles around, eager to witness the making of the amorous couple one, became impatient of the happy event’s taking place; and it was slily consummated early last Sunday morning, through the sheer tact of the gay Lothario: the Rev. G. Watson tied the silken bands without clamour, according to request. The candidates for matrimony toddled to and from church in a zig-zag direction, and separately in both cases: they arrived at the temple unobserved, and the veteran then and there, quickly, for the third time, ‘plighted his troth,’ and endowed his lady with all his worldly goods. On their return from church, the bride, accompanied by a ‘brother chip,’ (who had kindly given ‘this woman to be married to this man,’ in the regretted absence of the groom’s godfather!) was assailed with the queerest gibes and jokes ever heard at Caistor, compelled both to take shelter in the house of a relation, and they were ultimately escorted home by the Caistor rural police! By the bye, the son of St. Crispin, unconscious of what had fallen upon his newly-made rib, not like Jacob of old, ‘leaning on his staff,’ but contrariwise wielding it as he waxed warm at his numerous mockers, ever and anon laid about him, but found that in doing so he only increased their mirth: he therefore wisely imitated the stern indifference of a philosopher, and quietly marching away, arrived at his castle to breakfast. – Great anxiety was expressed by many to know how the happy pair were next morning’ and we are happy to state that the answer to the numerous enquiries was that both were as well as could be expected.”

The Stamford Mercury, 1st February, 1839.

Marie Antoinette must have known that things were going to end badly for her following her husband’s execution. Few newspapers exist that covered contemporary events of revolutionary France. This article written a few days after her execution suggests that she was originally acquitted by the Revolutionary Tribunal before being murdered by ‘the sanguinary mob’. History has since been re-written.

'LONDON
Murder of the Queen of France

Tuesday morning an account arrived from Dover, of the melancholy event of the execution of the Queen of France. By subsequent and well-authenticated accounts, this afflicting intelligence is too certainly confirmed. Our advices do not enter into a particular detail ; but they contain enough to freeze every heart with horror, that is not become callous to all emotions of humanity.

On the morning of the 15th, this ill-fated Queen was put upon her trial before the Revolutionary Tribunal. The charges made against her are alike an outrage to decency and common sense ; but notwithstanding the friendless and deserted situation in which she stood, and the acknowledged malice of her judges as well as accusers, our accounts state that SHE WAS ACQUITTED.

Would to Heaven that, in pity to the honest and tender feelings of our countrymen, and from regard to the general character of mankind, we could for ever draw a veil over the dreadful catastrophe !–The just sentence of acquittal was no sooner pronounced, than the sanguinary mob seized on the unhappy Queen, and MURDERED HER without remorse !!!

Another account says, the tribunal pronounced the unfortunate Queen guilty of having been accessary to, and having co-operated in different manoeuvres against the liberty of France ;–of having entertained a correspondence with the enemies of the Republic ; of having participated in a plot tending to kindle civil war in the interior of the Republic by arming citizens against each other.

[The execution of an unjust sentence by regular forms, is as repugnant to humanity as the most savage outrages of a lawless mob.]

When the sentence of the National Convention was read to the widow of Capet, she cast down her eyes, and did not again lift them up. “Have you nothing to reply to the determination of the law?” said the President to her.–“Nothing,” she replied. “And you, officious defenders?” “Our mission is fulfilled with respect to the widow Capet,” said they.

The execution took place at half past eleven o’clock in the forenoon. The whole armed force in Paris was on foot, from the Palace of Justice to the Place de la Revolution. The streets were lined by two very close rows of armed citizens. As soon as the ci-devant Queen left the Conciergerie, to ascend the scaffold, the multitude which was assembled in the courts and the streets, cried out bravo, in the midst of plaudits. Marie Antoinette had on a white loose dress, and her hands were tied behind her back. She looked firmly round her on all sides. She was accompanied by the ci-devant Curate of St. Landry, a constitutional Priest, and on the scaffold preserved her natural dignity of mind.

After the execution, three young persons dipped their handkerchiefs in her blood. They were immediately arrested.’

Stamford Mercury, 25 October 1793.

Bastardy is so out of fashion nowadays. Is the story of the ‘noble’ Duke of Dorset, who is said to have died childless, really so extraordinary ? Perhaps because he was found out ? Could someone alive now resurrect this title ?

‘EXTRAORDINARY CHARGE OF BASTARDY.–Within the last fortnight an order of affiliation has been obtained, by the parish officers of St. George’s, Hanover-square, against the Duke of Dorset, to compel his Grace to give security to the parish for the maintenance of a child which a female had sworn he was the father of. The facts of the case are these:–The mother of the child, who appeared to have been a good-looking female, but reduced to extreme poverty, was a few years ago residing at the west end of the town, when she accidentally met with a gentleman who called himself ‘Mr. Smith.’ The gentleman expressed much regard for her, and offered to allow her a conditional maintenance, and she accepted his terms.–She became pregnant after their intercourse had been carried on for some time, and she communicated the fact to ‘Mr. Smith,’ who left a sum of money, and without mentioning his intention to discontinue his visits, never afterwards called on her. When she had given birth to the child in question, she was reduced almost to a state of starvation, and with the child in her arms she was compelled to go about the streets to solicit alms as a means of existence. A short time ago she was walking near Portland-place, and caught a view of her quondam friend ‘Mr. Smith.’ She followed him, unobserved, and saw him go into the mansion of his Grace the Duke of Portland. She knocked at the door soon afterwards, and asked what the name of the gentleman who had entered the house was, as she had previously suspected that Mr. Smith was not his real name. The servant replied, ‘that gentleman is the Duke of Dorset.’ On this she informed the parish officers that she had discovered the father of the child, and his Grace was summoned to show cause why he should not maintain it. On the woman’s examination, she mentioned places, and dates, and circumstances, under which ‘Mr. Smith’ (who she swore was the Duke) had met her ; and although an attempt was made to induce her to fix on a date when it might have been proved his Grace was not in London, it did not succeed, and her evidence was not impeached, except by the strong counter-declarations of his Grace. The order, however, having been made on the noble Duke, his Grace paid 120l. to the parish officers as a compromise, and so the affair terminated.’

Stamford Mercury, 11th April, 1828.

Public flogging fell out of favour during the 20th century but 200 years ago it was a highly popular activity … for stealing a bag of nuts? As a form of corporal punishment, public flogging was only one of an abundance of options available to the state to inflict pain on its citizens.

‘An immense concourse (probably more than 5000 persons) assembled last Friday in the sheep-market and its approaches, to witness the whipping of Richard Taylor (or Sampson), a youth of about 18, convicted at our late assizes for stealing a sack of nuts from the shop of Mr. D. Flatters. After being paraded in a waggon round the neighbouring streets, attended by a procession of beadles, constables, and sheriff’s officers, the culprit was fastened to the lamp-post in the centre of the sheep-square and surrounded on all sides by the escort above mentioned. The punishment then commenced, under the inspection of one of the sheriffs and other city authorities, the executioner and culprit being both elevated in the waggon, in view of the immense multitude. The number of lashes ordered was one hundred, but the sheriff in attendance (Mr. Cappe) suggested its discontinuance after about 80 had been inflicted, which was accordingly done. To judge by the culprit’s cries, the punishment was sufficiently severe ; more so, probably, than he had expected, from his previous insolence and bravado : at the conclusion he put on his shirt, and was re-conveyed to prison for a term of 6 months with much seeming indifference, venting a few hearty curses and threats of “sarving out” upon the authors of his suffering. The whip used had nine lengths of whipcord, each having nine knots upon it, and though plentiful discolouration was produced, yet no blood was drawn.’

Stamford Mercury Archive, 28th March, 1828.

Shipwreck survivors were rare in the centuries before the Royal Navy changed its rules to make the ability to swim mandatory. Many thought that sailors refused to learn to swim because, “it was quicker to die from drowning than from hyperthermia”. Luckily, all hands on this ship were saved, despite no-one knowing how to swim.

On Wednesday morning, about 7 o’clock, a vessel appeared on shore at Withernsea, on the Holderness coast, in a most dreadful situation. The sea running high, and the wind blowing strong from the N.E. in about half an hour she fell on her side, and in a short time was entirely a wreck. The crew, eight in number, in the mean time presented a most awful spectacle, holding themselves upon the wreck by ropes ; every minute was expected to be their last, the waves constantly washing over them ; and the people collected on the shore in anxiety and grief, not knowing what to do to save the lives of these their fellow creatures.–At length two men, F. Cookman and B. Wilson, boldly ventured into the sea, with ropes tied around them, and happily succeeded, ultimately, in bringing them all safe to shore, and as well as could be expected. In this humane attempt, Mr. Cookman was twice washed off his feet, and thrown into the sea ; and both of them were several times completely overboard.–Great credit is due to these two men, and their exertions ought not to pass unrewarded. The vessel proves to be the Enterprize, Ingles, of Kirkaldy, coal-laden, for Rotterdam. Most of the stores will be saved.’

Stamford Mercury, 27th January, 1815.