Category: Norwich

Another in my little series of posts from the Norwich Mercury 200 years ago this month.

“Sirs,

A great sensation has been occasioned in this neighbourhood, by a body recently being taken from the church-yard of Hethersett. This, though so distressing to the feelings of surviving relations, is an evil which will never be prevented, unless a sufficient number of human bodies can by other means be obtained, for the purpose to which this, no doubt, has been applied, and which, for the advancement of a science, the most important to the welfare of the human race, is indispensably requisite. I have long been of opinion, that the bodies of ALL malefactors who are executed should be delivered to the surgeons: this would operate as a two-fold good—for I am persuaded it would tend greatly to the prevention of crime.

Hardiment, who was executed here about two years ago for murder, felt, as I have been credibly informed, a much greater horror at that part of his sentence which subjected his body to dissection, than at death itself. Two men were condemned at the same Assizes, for having set on fire some premises in or near Diss. A short time before their execution they expressed a strong desire to see their prosecutor; told him they felt persuaded, that if buried at Norwich, their bodies would be taken up, and requested him to make them a promise that they should be taken to a church-yard they named, at the distance of about twenty miles, which being granted, they became comparatively easy. This account I received from a professional gentleman who had been employed on their trials.

I would not, however, stop here: I would also give up to the surgeons the bodies of all who execute themselves, excepting those only, who it should be clearly proved, had been under restraint from imputed insanity or lunacy. This would, I have no doubt, greatly tend to prevent self-murder, and I have, almost under my own eye, a much stronger proof in print, than that in the case above stated.

In the Spring, 1821, R. residing in a neighbouring village, cut his throat, though not so as to occasion death. In the Spring, 1822, L. residing in another neighbouring village, hanged himself: an inquest was held, and, as usual in such cases, it was adjudged that he was at the time insane. Immediately after this, R. said to some of his neighbours, “though L. hanged himself they buried him in the church-yard.” The next morning the body of R. was found hanging and dead.

Feb 8th, 1825. Your’s, &c. &c. A.B.”

The church where the body snatchers struck was St Remigius in Hethersett. I was able to find out that the burial was of a “poor old man” on Sunday 30 January 1825 and his body taken on the Wednesday.

He wasn’t named at the time in the media, but there was only one burial that day at the church which was Thomas Able, a 73 year old man from the village and this fits the description of an “old man”. His wife died on 23 December 1846 and was later buried at the same church, so she must have suffered terribly. At the time, it was thought that a body going to be dissected wouldn’t go to heaven, which is why it was an extra punishment for those condemned to death by the courts and why the letter writer suggested people who committed suicide should have their bodies taken, something which happened in Germany at the time. The theft of a body wasn’t a criminal offence in 1825, as long as any clothing or other items weren’t taken away at the same time, which is why they were left at the site. The matter was mostly resolved by the passing of the Anatomy Act in 1825, legislation which was long overdue as fear of a loved one’s body being removed became a slight national obsession.

In my little series of posts from 200 years ago, there’s a one line article on the court reports for 1825 that reads:

“By the decision of magistrates, Charles Smith, for non-performance of an order of bastardy – three months tread wheel”.

The tread wheel was a relatively new invention at this time, having been designed by Sir William Cubitt and introduced in the prisons of Bury St Edmunds and Brixton. The punishment varied, but Charles was likely on the tread wheel for around six hours a day, which must have been healthy but also tiring and probably rather annoying to say the least.

The concept of bastardy orders has roots in English common law, where children born to unmarried parents were deemed filius nullius, meaning “child of no one”, which does feel a slightly harsh way for a youngster to start their life. These children lacked legal standing in society and were prohibited from inheriting property from their father unless legitimised, which could be done rather more easily for the landed gentry. These children could not claim support from their parents, and the responsibility for their care initially fell upon monasteries and local councils. The Poor Law of 1733 in England stipulated that the putative father was responsible for maintaining his illegitimate child. Local authorities would issue public funds to maintain the mother and child until the father could assume responsibility.

The 1834 New Poor Law in England introduced a Bastardy Clause, representing something of a significant shift in social and legal approaches to illegitimacy. This clause shifted the responsibility for illegitimate children from the parish to the mother and this change aimed to deter illegitimacy and reduce the cost of poor relief by placing the burden on unmarried mothers . The Bastardy Clause was rooted in the principle of “less eligibility”, which sought to make workhouse conditions less desirable than even the lowest paying jobs, thereby discouraging reliance on poor relief. A Royal Commission into the changes that became the 1834 Poor Law stated that the existing system gave generous payments for illegitimate children and indemnified the mother against failure to marry, noting:

“The effect has been to promote bastardy; to make want of chastity on the woman’s part the shortest road to obtaining either a husband or a competent maintenance; and to encourage extortion and perjury.”

Charles Smith is too common a name for me to be able to work out much about him, but the parish officials would have made an Order which required him to pay for his child and it’s evident that he didn’t make those payments.

Back to my little series of posts about the Norwich Mercury from 200 years ago. It’s hardly a surprise that there were conmen operating in Norwich 200 years ago, but it must have been a lot harder back then to actually spot such deceit when it happened. The Earl of Caithness at the time was Alexander Campbell Sinclair, 13th Earl of Caithness, with the fraudulent man pretending to be his son. He was perhaps unfortunate to have discovered a naval officer who was able to ask penetrating questions about the Earl of Caithness, otherwise he might have gotten away with his little scam. It’s a nice little phrase from the newspaper though, “preparing for the execution of a master-stroke of swindling”, as there are some politicians that could be said about today.

And just one more post from the Norwich Mercury of 200 years ago this week…..

“NORFOLK, SUFFOLK, AND ESSEX Rail Road Company.

At the request of several Gentlemen of influence and respectability of Norwich, the Committee of Management have consented to receive SUBSCRIPTIONS for SHARES until the 1st February, before which time all Tenders must be made, to Messrs. Gurney, Messrs. Tompson, Barclay, & Ives, Messrs. Onley, Hudson, and Harvey, and Messrs. Day, Bankers; Messrs. Unthank and Foster, Solicitors, at Norwich; Messrs. Brown and Co. Messrs. Oakes & Co. and E. Squire, Esq. Bankers, at Bury St. Edmund’s; Messrs. Borton, Solicitors, Bury St. Edmund’s; or to Messrs. Sir W. Kay, Price, Marryatt, and Coleman, Bankers, Mansion House-street, London; Messrs. Morland & Co. Pall Mall; Messrs. Wolfe and Edmunds, Brokers, ‘Change Alley, Cornhill; and Messrs. Wilks and Verbeke, Solicitors, 36, New Broad-street.

But all parties so making Tenders must remit the amount of deposit of £1 per Share, on the Shares for which they may tender, to one of the above-named Bankers, otherwise the Tender cannot be received.

London, 13th Jan. 1825. WM. SIM, Sec. Pro-Tem.”

I’ll ignore that Oxford Comma in the first line…. I can’t find any substantial reference to this company, although I like the early use of the words rail road, so I’m not entirely sure what happened to it. However, this must have been one of the earliest attempts to create a rail company in East Anglia, but it took over a decade for any line to appear in the region. However, I suspect I’ll start to see a lot more journalism and adverts about the rail network from 200 years ago, as in 1826 there was an Act of Parliament that authorised the Liverpool and Manchester Railway.

And (yet) another post in my series of things that I thought intriguing from the Norwich Mercury of 200 years ago this week. The article reads:

“On Thursday night, or early on Friday morning, some persons broke into the bar of Mr. Blackley, at the Castle Inn, by breaking the window over the porter-room door, and slipping the bar lock, and stole from thence a musical snuff-box, a silver snuff-box, four pictures, double-bitted bridle, pair of shoes, boots, silver wine strainer, and several other articles. The pictures are portraits of Mr. Blackley and some of his family. A person sleeping near the room imagined that he heard their attempt, but did not rise to ascertain the fact.”

It’s the last line that I thought of note and I can almost imagine the annoyance of William Henry Redhead Blackley, who was the landlord of the pub between 1823 and 1833, that the person mentioned didn’t attempt to stop what was going on. This was also a large venue (known over the time as the Castle Inn, the Castle Hotel, the Castle & Lion and just the Castle), it had been trading since the mid seventeenth century and it remained open until 1989, which seems like quite a decent run to me. Unfortunately, the building was lost in the 1990s as part of the Castle Mall development, but it had been a sizeable building.

As some other asides, it was quite a little haul that the thieves got away with, taking horse related kit, shoes and photos of the landlord. I had to look up what a porter room was and it’s apparently a Norfolk thing, it’s a reference to the posh bar or I suppose the lounge bar of its day.

As for the landlord, William died on 1 March 1833 and is buried at the Rosary Cemetery, although I’m not sure if his gravestone is still there.