The Vulnerable Victorian Governess

by Mimi Matthews

The Governess by Richard Redgrave, 1844.

A governess occupied a unique position in a Victorian household. She was neither servant, nor family member. She existed in a sort of in-between world which often left her feeling isolated and alone. To combat this, the young governess was advised to cultivate a tolerance for solitude. Author Susan Ridout addresses this in her somewhat depressing nineteenth century book of advice, Letters to a Young Governess on the Principles of Education and Other Subjects Connected with Her Duties (1840):

“Consider therefore, before you enter a family, how far you are able to support the solitude into which you must be thrown, in such a situation. It is not now a separation merely from friends and relations to which you are called; it is a seclusion from society altogether, at least from any which sympathizes with you.”

Seclusion from society not only left a Victorian governess isolated and alone, it also left her vulnerable to the unwelcome advances of men, both in and out of the household. To that end, Ridout instructs the young governess to be gentle, modest, reserved, and dignified, stating that:

“If there are young men in the family where you reside, remember that your carriage will generally govern theirs; they will not presume, if you are discreet and unpretending.”

On occasion, modesty and dignified reserve did not provide enough of a deterrent to gentlemen who were determined to take liberties with an unprotected female. Cases abound of governesses who were kissed, groped, and otherwise assaulted in the course of their employment. On these unfortunate occasions, there was little incentive for the governess to complain to her employer, since, as Ridout implies, gentlemanly presumptions were generally marked down to some lapse in decorum on the part of the governess. If she brought them to the attention of the mistress or master of the household, she risked being let go without a reference.

Fortunately, the courts were not always as indifferent to the plight of governesses as the rest of society. Below are just a few instances of advances made toward young governesses, some of which were ultimately dealt with in a Victorian court of law.

Proposals, Elopements, and Bigamy

In some cases, the overtures of a gentleman of the household could lead to a marriage proposal. This happened with enough regularity—both in reality and in popular fiction—that the young governess could be forgiven for dreaming that she might, too, meet a wealthy Mr. Rochester during the course of her employment. In reality, however, the man of the house was usually more of a middle-aged fellow in a marital rut than a single, charismatic hero.

Arrival of a New Governess in a Merchant's House by Vasily Perov 1866.

The 18 November 1893 edition of the Yorkshire Gazette reports the case of Mr. Hearn, a wealthy, fifty-four year old father who had engaged Miss Crosswell, a governess, to instruct his daughters on the pianoforte. He subsequently fell in love with Miss Crosswell and made her an offer of marriage. Miss Crosswell eagerly accepted, but when Mr. Hearn’s daughters protested the engagement, he broke it off. Miss Crosswell pleaded with Mr. Hearn to stand by her. When he refused, she promptly sued him for breach of promise. According to the Yorkshire Gazette, the jury awarded her £475, a sum which they considered to be “an approximate pecuniary equivalent to her pain and loss.”

Often, the master of the house developed a tendre for the governess while still married to his wife. This caused quite a bit of tension in the household. The 17 September 1892 edition of the Dundee Evening Telegraph reports the case of a wealthy farmer who eloped with the family governess while still married. As the newspaper explains:

“His wife had occasion to remonstrate concerning his marked attentions to the attractive young lady who had for a considerable period acted as governess in the family.”

When confronted, the governess agreed to find another situation and asked for a leave of absence in order to do so. The husband left the family home at the same time, ostensibly on a business trip. The following day, the pair was spotted “at a junction in England,” after which they were never seen again.

A governess and her male employer in 1901 were not so lucky. The Sheffield Independent states that, after ten years of marriage, Leopold Moulton and his wife, Lucy, hired a governess named Miss Robson to teach their children. Less than two years later, Mr. Moulton and Miss Robson departed the family home, intending to elope together to Australia. The pair was “caught together at Marseilles,” at which point they made a full confession. Mrs. Moulton subsequently sued her husband for divorce on the grounds of cruelty and adultery and was granted a dissolution of marriage.

Assault

Far more common than marriage proposals and elopements, were the everyday instances of physical encroachments perpetrated against the vulnerable young governess. If committed by a member of the household, these insults were difficult to defend against. However, if an assault was perpetrated by a man outside of the home, a governess sometimes had recourse in the courts—especially if that assault was witnessed by others.

The Governess by Rebecca Solomon, 1851.

In 1874, while out walking in a field with her three young charges, governess Lydia Jackson crossed paths with Mr. John Bickley, a young gentleman of the neighbourhood who was heir to a great fortune. Mr. Bickley was driving by in a cart when he saw Miss Jackson gathering violets. He made disparaging remarks about the children and, when Miss Jackson did not reply, the 20 May 1874 edition of the Norwich Mercury states that Mr. Bickley “did something to his trowsers; and subsequently tying his horse up, he came towards plaintiff in that position.”

Miss Jackson ran. Mr. Bickley followed and soon overtook her, grabbing hold of her jacket. Miss Jackson was able to get free and, along with the children, ran to the cottage of a neighbour. When later confronted in court, Mr. Bickley denied he had ever even seen or spoken to Miss Jackson. He claimed she was either lying or that it was a case of mistaken identity. Fortunately, the children and the neighbour were all able to verify Mr. Bickley’s presence in the field of violets that afternoon. The Norwich Mercury reports that:

“The jury almost immediately returned a verdict for the plaintiff for the full amount claimed, namely £50, the usual costs following. His Honour, addressing the jury, said that if it was any satisfaction to them to know it, he quite concurred in the decision at which they had arrived.”

In a similar case from 1881, a governess by the name of Jane Hutton was out walking when Christopher Henderson, a railway worker, grabbed her by the wrist, pulled her close to him, and attempted to kiss her. Miss Hutton ran away, but, as the Dundee Courier relates:

“He ran after her and overtook her, and again seized hold of her by the wrist and arm, dragged her on to the embankment, pulled her on to his knee, and placed his arm round her waist.”

What happened next is not entirely clear from the reports, but whatever transpired, it was enough to result in Mr. Henderson being sentenced to thirty days' imprisonment.

Murder

Cases of governess murdered by their employer are not as numerous as those involving assault, but they do exist and are, in my opinion, some of the most tragic. Victorian governesses were often alone in the world, without friends or family to inquire after them if they should happen to disappear. With no one to ask questions, a governess’s murder could go undiscovered for years. For example, in 1843, a governess by the name of Miss Crossland was employed by Mr. and Mrs. Clarke at Firth Wood Farm. The 19 August 1893 edition of the Yorkshire Evening Post reports that:

“Clark became enamoured of her and got rid his wife, to whom he allowed £60 a year, while he retained Miss Crossland as housekeeper.”

Mr. Clarke was a big man who had been known to participate in prize fights. When Miss Crossland later disappeared, the locals assumed she had either “died in giving birth to a child” or met with foul play.

The New Governess by Thomas Ballard, (1836-1908).

Her ultimate fate was destined to remain a mystery until, forty years later, railway workers excavating a field near Firth Wood found “the remains of a young woman” buried in a shallow grave. The newspaper reports that “the skull was crushed on to the chest, and both jaws wore broken, as well as several ribs.” By this point, Mr. Clarke had long since died himself and, though the remains were widely believed to be those of Miss Crossland, the Coroner in the case declined to hold an inquest.

In Conclusion

Not every position held by a Victorian governess was fraught with physical danger. There were many families who were genuinely decent and respectable, allowing the governess to go about her duties without fear of being importuned by the gentlemen of the household. With that being said, it is important to remember just how vulnerable a governess was during the nineteenth century and just how precarious her situation could become if an unscrupulous man should decide to embark on a seduction.
________________________________________
Sources
Dundee Courier (Angus, Scotland), 26 November 1881.
Norwich Mercury (Norfolk, England), 20 May 1874.
Ridout, Susan. Letters to a Young Governess on the Principles of Education and Other Subjects     Connected with her Duties. London: Edmund Fry, 1840.
Sheffield Independent (South Yorkshire, England), 05 February 1901.
Yorkshire Evening Post (West Yorkshire, England), 19 August 1893.
Yorkshire Gazette (North Yorkshire, England), 18 November 1893.

This post is an Editor's Choice from the Archives, originally published August 7, 2017.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mimi Matthews writes both historical non-fiction and traditional historical romances set in Victorian England. She is the author of numerous works both nonfiction and fiction, including The Pug Who Bit Napoleon: Animal Tales of the 18th and 19th Centuries, A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty, The Work of Art, and most recently, Fair as A Star.

In her other life, Mimi is an attorney with both a Juris Doctor and a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature. She resides in California with her family, which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, two Shelties, and two Siamese cats.

Website: www.MimiMatthews.com
Facebook: Facebook.com/MimiMatthewsAuthor
Twitter: Twitter.com/MimiMatthewsEsq

Giveaway: THE KING'S JUSTICE by E.M. Powell

A paperback copy of THE KING'S JUSTICE, the first in E.M. Powell's bestselling new medieval mystery Stanton & Barling series, is being offered.

A murder that defies logic—and a killer on the loose.

England, 1176. Aelred Barling, esteemed clerk to the justices of King Henry II, is dispatched from the royal court with his young assistant, Hugo Stanton, to investigate a brutal murder in a village outside York.

The case appears straightforward. A suspect is under lock and key in the local prison, and the angry villagers are demanding swift justice. But when more bodies are discovered, certainty turns to doubt—and amid the chaos it becomes clear that nobody is above suspicion.

Facing growing unrest in the village and the fury of the lord of the manor, Stanton and Barling find themselves drawn into a mystery that defies logic, pursuing a killer who evades capture at every turn.

Can they solve the riddle of who is preying upon the villagers? And can they do it without becoming prey themselves?

“Cleverly plotted, the action is fast paced and full of twists and turns, surprises, and suspense.” —Historical Novel Society

For a chance to win a copy, please leave a comment below. Don't forget to leave your contact details.

This giveaway will remain open until 11.59 pm on Sunday September 30 (Pacific Daylight Time)

Good luck!

Dick Turpin: A Fatal Letter

by Catherine Curzon

Georgian Britain was a place of splendour and Enlightenment, a world of glittering spectacle and dazzling celebrity where even a child from the humblest of starts could rise to the top. In a land where politics, press and even prostitution could be the ticket to fame and fortune, not everybody made their name honestly. One man whose notoriety has survived through the ages and morphed from notorious criminal to folk hero to Georgian legend is, of course, Dick Turpin, the infamous highway robber of 18th century England.

Romanticised, lauded and celebrated in art and fiction, the tale of Turpin is steeped in myth. He is one of the most famous criminals ever to emerge from British history, yet when he certainly didn’t go out in a blaze of glory.

And he didn’t come in in one either!

Richard Turpin was born in 1705 as the son of a farmer in Thackstead, deep in rural Essex. To all intents and purposes, his life was set to be an unremarkable one, yet young Dick had had plans of his. Apprenticed to a butcher in Whitechapel, this rowdy young man had no intention of being a nobody, and toiling hard as a butcher’s apprentice didn’t give him anything like the lifestyle he craved. what it did do was give him an introduction to the criminal world and when Turpin became a butcher in his own shop, he embarked on a life of crime.

Turpin began rustling cattle with which to stock his shop. Of course, he didn’t stop there and when he was discovered helping himself to a farmer’s stock, he was forced onto the run. Undaunted, Turpin was soon branching out into highway robbery and violent home invasion, yet this legend of Georgian crime’s reign of terror was undone by an eagle-eyed chap in the post office!

Thanks to his escapades, by the 1730s, Turpin and his gang were among the most wanted men in the land. Turpin’s name was feared by all and the government issued a proclamation warning the public about the villain in their midst.

"It having been represented to the King, that Richard Turpin did, on Wednesday, the 4th of May last, barbarously murder Thomas Morris, servant to Henry Thompson, one of the keepers of Epping Forest, and commit other notorious felonies and robberies, near London, his Majesty is pleased to promise his most gracious pardon to any of his accomplices, and a reward of 200 l. to any person or persons that shall discover him, so that he may be apprehended and convicted.

Turpin was born at Thackstead, in Essex, is about thirty, by trade a butcher, about five feet nine inches high, very much marked with the small-pox, his cheek-bones broad, his face thinner towards the bottom; his visage short, pretty upright, and broad about the shoulders."

In fact, when Turpin was arrested, the authorities had no idea who they had captured. Snared for horse stealing, he was interred at York under the pseudonym, John Palmer. Here Turpin languished until, after four months, he wrote the following letter to his brother-in-law, Pompr Rivernall, in Essex:

"Dear Brother,
York, Feb. 6, 1739.
I am sorry to acquaint you, that I am now under confinement in York Castle, for horse-stealing. If I could procure an evidence from London to give me a character, that would go a great way towards my being acquitted. I had not been long in this county before my being apprehended, so that it would pass off the readier. For Heaven's sake dear brother, do not neglect me; you will know what I mean, when I say,
I am yours,
JOHN PALMER."

In fact, Rivernall refused to pay the postage on the letter, supposedly because he has no idea who this John Palmer character might be. Of course, we might wonder whether he knew exactly who John Palmer was and, seeing the York postmark, determined to let his criminal brother-in-law stew. The letter was returned unopened in February 1739, where it happened to land in the post office in Saffron Walden.
It was here that a chap named James Smith happened to spot the letter as it waited to be returned to sender. In a twist of fate, however, Smith had been a classmate of Dick Turpin years earlier and, fatefully it was he who had taught the younger boy to read and write.

Nobody knew Dick Turpin’s handwriting like James Smith.

As he collected his own post, Smith happened to catch sight of the letter from so-called John Palmer, the man held captive at York Castle. He recognised the hand instantly as that of Dick Turpin, his former classmate. Turpin had become so notorious that Smith knew exactly what had become of him, and must have been surprised to see the letter bearing his handwriting. A man of upright standing and also a chap who wouldn’t say no to the generous bounties on Turpin’s head, Smith decided to do the right thing. He reported his concerns to local magistrate, Thomas Stubbing, and the game, as the saying goes, was up.

Smith's statement

The men travelled to York and on 23rd February 1739, James Smith identified the prisoner known as John Palmer as none other than Dick Turpin, sealing his grisly fate and setting him on the path to execution.

The eagle-eyed Smith, meanwhile, found himself a rich man as a result of his keen vision. He was awarded £200 for his efforts, a sum worth almost £30,000 today... all for the sake of an unwanted letter!

Turpin’s date with the hangman was set for 7th April 1739 and it was the hottest ticket in town. Before an enormous crowd he went to the gallows and, the authorities hoped, would soon be forgotten.

As history has told, the authorities could not have been more wrong and to this day the legend of Dick Turpin endures, but no doubt he rued the day he wrote that letter!

“The spectators of the execution were affected at his fate, as he was distinguished by the comeliness of his appearance. The corpse was brought to the Blue Boar, in Castle-Gate, York, where it remained till the next morning, when it was interred in the church- yard of St. George's parish, with an inscription on the coffin, with the initials of his name, and his age. The grave was dug remarkably deep, but notwithstanding the people who acted as mourners took such measures as they thought would secure the body: it was carried off about three o'clock on the following morning; the populace, however, got intimation whither it was conveyed, and found it in a garden belonging to one of the surgeons of the city.

Having got possession of it they laid it on a board, and carried it through the streets in a kind of triumphal manner, they then filled the coffin with unslacked lime, and buried it in the grave where it had been before deposited.”

References

Barlow, Derek. Dick Turpin and the Gregory Gang. Phillimore, 1973.
Bayes, Richard. The Genuine History of the Life of Richard Turpin. J Standen, 1739.
Jackson, William. The New and Complete Newgate Calendar. Inner Temple, 1795.
Kyll, Thomas. The Trial of the Notorious Highwayman Richard Turpin. Ward and Chandler, 1739.
Sharpe, James. The Myth of the English Highwayman. Profile Books, 2005.

~~~~~~~~~~

Catherine’s tale of highwaymen and intrigue in 18th century Edinburgh, The Crown Spire, is available now.

Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

Medieval Outlaws

by Steven A. McKay

Since the very beginning of time there have been those who chose to live a life of crime: outlaws, or, as they were often known in the middle-ages, wolf's heads. Obviously the most famous of them is the bold Robin Hood who stole from the greedy rich to give to the downtrodden poor. But, as I found out when researching my novels Wolf's Head and The Wolf and the Raven, there were plenty of others who, in their own day, were just as notorious as Hood and his mates and some of them might surprise you...

Back then, extortion and bribery were rife – you could be imprisoned on some trumped-up charge by a crooked sheriff or bailiff just so they could take money from you in return for your freedom, even if you hadn't actually broken any law! If you had committed some criminal act, even a minor one, you could expect a fine you'd struggle desperately to pay, or some other even more humiliating punishment like the pillory. This was a wooden board that held the criminal's head and hands while the crowd threw things at them. A butcher selling bad meat would be dragged through the streets on a hurdle before being locked in the pillory where he'd have the offending offal burnt under him.1
And if you were a woman caught stealing? You'd be taken to the nearest river and drowned!2

No wonder some people chose to go into hiding and become outlaws rather than face medieval justice...

The pillory (burning offal not shown)

With so many being forced into a life outside the law it wasn't unusual for well-organized criminal gangs to spring up and cause trouble for the unlucky people living in the villages and towns of England. John Fitzwalter, for example, who led a gang that besieged Colchester not once, but twice, holding the whole town to ransom. 3 Or the notorious Folvilles, a group of brothers who murdered a man and fled the country but were able to return – with pardons – in 1326, thanks to the help of Roger Mortimer. They robbed, raped and murdered their way around the country for the next couple of years before being captured. They simply joined Mortimer's army and were pardoned again whereupon they resumed their reign of terror. They continued in this way for many years before, finally, their luck ran out, the law caught up with them and this time they were beheaded.4

One of the bounty hunters employed to catch both the Folvilles and another murderous gang, the Coterel's, was Roger de Wensley. He managed to find the Coterels but rather than dispensing justice he joined them!5 The Coterels were, like the Folville's, 'gentlemen' who, as well as being vicious criminals, served in King Edward III's army, were bailiffs and even Members of Parliament.

The funny thing is, like Robin Hood, the Folville's eventually came to be celebrated rather than vilified by the common man. They kidnapped an apparently corrupt justice of the peace, killed a widely-hated judge and were, in the years after their death, generally seen as men who had righted wrongs. 6

Fulk Fitzwarine is another outlaw cum-folk-hero, this time from the thirteenth century and, although he was a recorded historical figure, he may have been the source of some aspects of the Robin Hood legend. Outlawed for treason, he rebelled against King John twice. Despite this the people of the time celebrated him in poetry and song, drawing in elements from Arthurian mythology - Merlin himself was supposed to have prophesied Fulk's exploits!7

Medieval England was a dangerous place, even if you were a law-abiding citizen. You might be accused of a crime you hadn't committed so some corrupt lawman could extort money for your release from jail, and, if you were a notorious, violent criminal you could be pardoned from the most heinous transgressions by making yourself useful to those in power. The sheriff in my novels, Henry de Faucumberg, was a real historical figure who had a criminal record for assault and, on more than one occasion, stealing wood before he found himself serving the crown as Sheriff of Nottingham and Yorkshire. 8 Justice? “...it is estimated that there were more outlaws at this time than at any other period in England's history.” 9 No wonder – it seems like you could get away with anything back then as long as you had money or well-connected friends to help you out.

What interests me the most about all these accounts is how the outlaw – a criminal after all – usually becomes a romantic hero to the common people. The Folvilles raped and murdered for years yet a generation after their death they were celebrated as heroes poking a finger in the eye of the ruling classes. The original ballads of Robin Hood portrayed an incredibly violent man whose followers murdered an innocent child (in Robin Hood and the Monk) while he himself beheads the honourable Sir Guy of Gisbourne, sticks the head on the end of his longbow and mutilates the face with his knife!10

What is it about these dangerous men that makes them so compelling, so heroic, to the common people, even when they're clearly operating outside the laws that supposedly hold our society together? I believe it's mostly down to the old idea of “sticking it to the man.” Everyone likes to get one over on those in charge, especially when the rulers are rich and you're barely able to afford a crust of bread to feed your starving children. The medieval ballads sprung up around the Folvilles, Clim of the Clough (who appeared in a story alongside Adam Bell  11) and Robin Hood because they prospered in the face of adversity and gave hope to the common people that they too might, one day, break out of their life of thankless servitude to their betters.

Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough and William Cloudesley

700 years later audiences still enjoy tales of anti-heroes within literature and film: Batman and Judge Dredd, for example, represent the ultra-violent face of modern fictional 'justice', yet both are miles away from our Western judicial systems in the way they deal with criminals.

It seems our fascination for justice outwith the judicial system continues to this day. Maybe, eventually, the lawmakers will get things right – crimes will be detected, the perpetrators will be dealt with fairly and proportionately, the little man will enjoy justice as much as the wealthy, and the likes of Eustace Folville, Robin Hood and Batman will no longer seem so romantic...

Aye, right!

Judge Dredd and Judge Anderson bringing justice to the lawless in Dredd 3D

Steven A. McKay is the best-selling author of the Amazon "War" chart number 1's Wolf's Head and The Wolf and the Raven. The third in the series, Rise of the Wolf, is nearing completion, while a spin-off novella, Knight of the Cross, has just been released. All his books are also available from Audible as audiobooks.

To find out more go to StevenAMcKay, Amazon UK, or Amazon US


1 Mortimer, Ian The Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England, p95
2 Ibid, p219
3 Ibid, p240
4 Ibid, p240-242
5 Ibid, p241
6 Jones, Terry Medieval Lives, p63
7 Phillips, Graham and Keatman, Martin, Robin Hood – the man behind the myth, p115
8 http://midgleywebpages.com/shirereeve.html
9 John Paul Davis, Robin Hood – the Unknown Templar, p89
10 http://www.boldoutlaw.com/rhbal/bal118-gisborne.html
11 http://www.robinhoodlegend.com/adam-bell-clim-clough-william-cloudesly/

The Last Dance at Tyburn

By Catherine Curzon

In the world of Georgian highway robbery there are some names that have stood the test of time. "Blueskin" Blake, Plunkett and MacLaine and, of course, Dick Turpin himself are characters who have passed into English legend. They have appeared in literature, film and theatre, inspired fashion and music and, particularly in Turpin's case, become virtual folk heroes since their most notorious days. Less well known is the name of John Austin but, though he was not the most famous highwayman history has known, he does hold the dubious honour of being the last man to swing from the Tyburn tree. What were the circumstances though brought him to his sorry fate, and how did the matter of a hat lead a man to the infamous gallows?

On 23rd October 1783 a man named John Spicer was making his unassuming way to London, dreaming of a new start and hopefully, new opportunities. He had come from Grays in Essex and was something of an innocent abroad, with little experience in the city. So, when he encountered two very friendly chaps who promised to show him the way to decent lodgings where a man might fill his belly, Spicer was happy to go along with these new, heaven-sent friends. For a couple of days all was rosy on the road to London, yet on the third night things took a sinister turn. Spicer's companions invited him to follow them to their new lodging, promising a pleasant evening in good company. No doubt looking forward to a warm bed and good food, the hapless traveller instead found himself in the middle of open fields near Bethnal Green.

Out in the middle of nowhere and with no chance of rescue, Spicer must have thought his time had come when one of the men drew a cutlass and demanded that he hand over his valuables. Despite being outnumbered and unarmed, Spicer fought furiously, but Austin and his accomplice were able to wrestle him to the ground, binding his hands tightly and taking all of his possessions, or so they thought. The Proceedings of the Old Bailey record that he was relieved of:

"...one silver watch, value 30 s. a steel chain, value 1 s. a steel key, value 2 d. two silk handkerchiefs, value 4 s. two pair of worsted stockings, value 4 s. one linen shirt, value 12 d. one man's hat, value 12 d. the property of the said John Spicer."

If not for the intervention of a local man named James Strong, it might be that the attack could have been even worse. Strong was working in the garden of his employer, Giles Wells, when he heard the altercation and interrupted the assault, even giving chase to the felons when they fled the scene. Unable to catch either of the men, Strong instead helped the badly beaten Spicer to the local infirmary where his injuries were tended; luckily, he was not fatally wounded and was able to tell his rescuer exactly what had happened.

Upon hearing of the attack, Wells asked Strong to return to the scene of the crime by daylight and see if the men had dropped any of Spicer's stolen belongings. Instead, what he found was the clearly very dedicated John Austin searching the field where the robbery had taken place for Spicer's hat, which was left behind after the attack. Challenged by Strong, Austin told him that he was an innocent man, forced to participate in the robbery by his unnamed accomplice under threat of death should he not go along with the scheme. Strong found the explanation unlikely to say the least and locked Austin in a stable whilst the authorities were summoned. When Austin was taken from his makeshift cell, Wells found the stolen shirt and stockings concealed in the stable, reaching the inescapable conclusion that Austin must have concealed them there in an effort to rid himself of any damning evidence.

The case was presided over by a Mr Eyre, who showed no hesitation in passing the death sentence on Austin, and on 7th November 1783 he was taken by cart to the Tyburn gallows through a mob of enthusiastic spectators. His dignified composure failed him at the last, and as the noose was placed around his neck he implored the crowd:

"Good people, I request your prayers for the salvation of my departing soul. Let my example teach you to shun the bad ways I have followed. Keep good company, and mind the word of God. Lord have mercy on me. Jesus look down with pity on me. Christ have mercy on my poor soul!"

With his final words uttered, Austin's head was covered by the cap. He seemed to speak again, but his words were silenced as the cart started forward. In a final cruel twist Austin's neck didn't break immediately; instead, he was slowly strangled to death over ten excruciating minutes.

John Austin was the last person to die on the near legendary Tyburn gallows. Though the Tyburn Tree has long since been dismantled, and a busy road covers the place where so many died, it remains an iconic image of Georgian England, and one with many stories to tell.

Sources

http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?id=t17831029-4-defend133&div=t17831029-4#highlight

Gatrell, Vic, The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People 1770-1868 (OUP, Oxford, 1996)
Brooke, Alan and Brandon, David, Tyburn: London's Fatal Tree (The History Press, 2013)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

The Newgate Calendar, or, The Malefactors' Bloody Register

by Catherine Curzon

"Genuine and Circumstantial Narrative of the lives and transactions, various exploits and Dying Speeches of the Most Notorious Criminals of both sexes who suffered Death Punishment in Gt. Britain and Ireland for High Treason, Petty Treason, Murder, Piracy, Felony, Thieving, Highway Robberies, Forgery, Rapes, Bigamy, Burglaries, Riots and various other horrid crimes and misdemeanours on a plan entirely new, wherein will be fully displayed the regular progress from virtue to vice interspersed with striking reflexions on the conduct of those unhappy wretches who have fallen a sacrifice to the laws of their country."

An execution at Newgate

The concept of bestsellers, sensation literature and thrillingly sordid tales masquerading as morality pieces is hardly a new one, and one of the most popular of such works came into being in the 18th century, quickly establishing itself as the go-to literature for vice, virtue and villainy. In one form or another, The Newgate Calendar, or, The Malefactors' Bloody Register, had been in monthly publication for many years but, with a collected edition hitting the shelves in 1774, it swiftly became one of the most popular books in Georgian England.

In fact, there was never a single definitive first edition of The Newgate Calendar; instead, the first collected editions were made up of reprinted chapbooks and broadsides of the kind that had been printed for many years beforehand. They were sold at public executions to those who had gathered to watch the spectacle and wanted a little something to remember the event by, let alone a reminder of the crimes that were behind the malefactors on the scaffold. These disposable and scandalous works did were not content to stick to factual reporting and spared no gruesome detail as they recounted some of the most violent and infamous crimes in history.

The Calendar was considered improving literature as it made sure to point out in each case where the criminal's (and often the victim's) moral fibre had been found wanting, lamenting that, with more attention paid to moral purity, these unfortunates might not have found themselves in such a sorry state. The authors often paid little heed to the facts of the case or the veracity, and the biographies of the condemned criminals  were often imaginatively enhanced but the public, fired by sensation, lapped it up. Of course, it did no harm to sales of the Calendar that the cases included therein were the most violent or notorious and soon it was a confirmed bestseller, beaten only by the Bible and Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. Very few households would have been without a copy of the Calendar, with its ready access to stories of good girls gone bad and gentlemen who should have known better.

A crime broadside of the sort that the Calendar collected together

Within the pages of the Newgate Calendar lurk some of the most feared and famous names in the English criminal history, but the starring roles are not reserved for the likes of Dick Turpin or Jack Sheppard. Here you will also find murderous clerks and wanton women, every crime detailed in gruesome, ghoulish language though of course, only for the sake of moral education. I am often lured away from my work by the Calendar and spend many happy hours immersed in it. In fact, in the future I hope to share some of its tales with the readers here, so be prepared for all manner of things!

The Calendar has been reprinted in numerous, heavily edited editions and texts are freely available across the internet so, next time you feel like a little moral outrage, why not delve in and lose yourself in a world of dark deeds? Take care to absorb the morals of the stories though, lest you end up in the Calendar yourself!

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Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

The Darker Side of Georgian Edinburgh

by Lynne Wilson

“Within a few months past we have conversed with gentlemen who have visited the North and South, and the centre of Europe; and they all concur in stating that there is more want and misery in this country than in any other they have seen.”
The Scotsman, 1827, Article on ‘The Prevalence of Crime in Edinburgh’

Crime was, of course, prevalent in all cities in Scotland at this time as the excerpt above points out. Edinburgh, as the capital city and a city which was establishing itself as a centre of learning, culture and respectability, was no doubt more under the spotlight than any other when it came to its failings. The reasons for crime in Edinburgh were the same as they were everywhere, in short, a high level of poverty, disease, death and misery in many parts of the city gave rise to theft, substance abuse and crimes perpetuated through anger.

The population of Edinburgh, as with other cities, had rapidly increased in the 1820s due to the influx of people from rural areas who had found themselves out of work due to the industrialisation which was occurring. Manual labourers who had been used to steady employment suddenly found themselves replaced by machinery on farms and in factories. Many flocked to the cities trying to find work there, but inevitably there were far more people than jobs, and areas within Edinburgh became overcrowded, and with a lack of sanitisation they quickly became dirty and unsanitary. Alcohol and laudanum abuse became widespread as people tried to block out the misery of their situations.

The execution of William Burke

William Burke and William Hare both came to Edinburgh from Ulster during the potato famine hoping, as many people had, to find work. By all accounts they were hard working men who had met when Burke came to live at Hare’s lodging house.

When another tenant of the house, a man named Donald, died owing Hare rent money, the pair took the body to the medical school knowing that they would pay for a fresh corpse to dissect. It was then, when they realised how much money they could earn for a body, that they began to murder to obtain corpses to sell on.

Graveyard Watchtower, New Calton Burying Ground, Edinburgh
© Kim Traynor

The practice of obtaining dead bodies for dissection was a lucrative trade at this time as a growing medical school needed fresh corpses for anatomical dissection. As the only way to legally obtain a corpse for this purpose was to wait until a criminal had been executed, needless to say there simply weren’t enough bodies to meet the medical school’s needs, as unlike in the 18th century where people would be executed for fairly trivial crimes, by the 19th century only those convicted of very serious crimes such as murder were being executed. 

As the medical school would pay very well for fresh corpses in good condition, a great many criminals considered that stealing bodies from graveyards was a risk worth taking, particularly as this crime was not viewed by the courts as serious and only attracted a short spell of imprisonment or a fine. This being the case, many relatives of those recently deceased would take turns to watch over the grave until such time as the corpse would be old enough to be of no use for anatomy. Men were also often employed to watch over the churchyards to prevent the activity of grave robbing.

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By Lynne Wilson, author of the historical non-fiction ebooks 'A Year in
Victorian Edinburgh' and 'Crime & Punishment in Victorian Edinburgh'; and the paperbacks, 'Murder & Crime in Stirling' and ‘A Grim Almanac of Glasgow’.
My Amazon author page
My Website, Scotland’s History Uncovered