NEWSPAPERS.—DISTEMPER.—GUILDHALL.—HANGINGS.—DARING BURGLARIES.—A LOCK-UP
STORY.—AN ALIBI.—THE MUD CASE.—WHEN THE RAILWAYS FIRST
CAME.—RETROSPECTIVE.
IN my former Notes I alluded to the Post Office. Well, the first Post
Office I recollect was a little room about 10ft. square—I think it has
been altered since—in one of those houses at the back of the “White Lion”
gates. An old gentleman lived there who was Postmaster, and I think he
was assisted, being rather infirm, by his daughter, and I have been told
it was the amusement of a little grandchild or a little boy accustomed to
visit him, that by way of a treat he was allowed to catch letters in his
pinafore, and as a grand treat he was allowed to stamp them. At that
time the Post Office establishment consisted of the Postmaster, the lady
who assisted him, and the letter carrier, who, as some of you recollect,
was Mrs. Waterfield, a tidy woman, who had a little basket in which she
carried letters. By degrees the establishment got on. You will bear in
mind that at that time we were not troubled with Post Office Orders.
There was no way of conveying 5s. or 6s. in stamps, or by order, from one
part of the country to another. The present Post Office consists of
palatial buildings, since their enlargement in 1904, and great
departmental accommodation, the smallest room of which is larger than
that old Post Office altogether. It would not do now to catch letters in
a pinafore, as their number is many millions a month. There are
telegraph messages, Post Office Orders, and Savings Bank business. The
Postmaster and old woman have grown into a Postmaster at £500 a year,
Chief Clerk, a very important personage, the Assistant Superintendent
(Postal Department), the Assistant Superintendent (Telegraph Department),
7 controllers, and a staff numbering altogether nearly 350, with 66
sub-Post Offices—a pretty good number. A great deal of the business is
forwarding mails passing through Peterborough, as a convenient centre for
such purposes.
Then, as to newspapers, we used to have once a week the “Stamford
Mercury,” a very good paper, full of advertisements and local news, but
the “Stamford Mercury” was always conducted on this principle: “Opinion
is quite free in this country, and we are going to dictate to nobody,” so
you never have editorial articles in the “Stamford Mercury.” They used
sometimes to select leaders and bits of intelligence from other papers,
generally of one way of thinking. Then we used to have the London
papers. They cost 7d. each. London papers used to come down the day
after publication, after they had gone the round of the club houses, the
hotels, and the London eating houses. Those that had been in the eating
houses used sometimes to come in rather a greasy form. Now we can have
the “Times” on our breakfast table, or earlier if wished. After a time
some gentlemen thought we were very benighted in Peterborough, and two of
them, very much in advance of their age, started what we should now call
a Society paper of a very pronounced type called the “Peterborough
Argus.” The first one heard of it was, after one or two publications,
that a solicitor had inflicted upon the responsible Editor a sound
thrashing for a libel. The case went to the Northampton Assizes, and
although the verdict was not quite “served him right,” the publisher got
damages of very small amount. It was one of the most scurrilous papers
in its way, and at length it became intolerable.
We now have in Peterborough four newspapers, besides a most ample supply
of daily newspapers. It has been very interesting to witness the growth
of Peterborough newspapers, particularly that of the ADVERTISER (the
first in the field—in 1854) from its small two pages to the very
satisfactory form in which it now appears, with its mid-weekly auxiliary,
the CITIZEN. There was also a difficulty as to supply of books. There
was a book club, the Church Porch Club, existing fifty years ago, and one
or two others, but somehow or other literature did not thrive very much
in Peterborough. One gentleman retired from the book club, and when
asked why he gave up he said “The fact is I cannot eat suppers any
longer.” It does not strike me as a good reason to give up reading,
because one would have thought he could have read better without his
supper. However, they were not then so badly off for newspapers as they
were 150 years ago.
I mentioned just now the “Stamford Mercury.” I have before me a copy of
the “Stamford Mercury” a friend has kindly lent me, that I might extract
a little valuable comparison. What should we think if our intellectual
food came from sources such as that we got, for instance, in the year
1730, as seen in the “Stamford Mercury.” It then had a most aspiring
title, as you will see:—“The STAMFORD MERCURY, being Historical and
Political Observations on the Transactions of Europe, Together with
Remarks on Trade.” Here is this little sheet—a good-sized sheet of
letter paper, one-eighth taken up by the title and an illustrated figure
of “Mercury.” Another eighth is literally taken up by “Bills of
Mortality of London for the week or month,” and from it I wonder what
some of the diseases of that day were. One person died of
“Headmouldshot,” one of “Horse Shoehead,” and amongst other things there
is very large mortality attributed to “teeth.” Another eighth of that
paper is taken up with price lists, giving the rate of exchange between
London and Madrid, also between London and Cadiz, etc. Then prices of
goods at “Bear Key.” Another eighth is given up to observations upon the
affairs of Europe: “Our Government has received advice from Florence that
Princess Dowager Palatine has renounced all her pretentions to the
succession in favour of Don Carlos,” and such pieces as that, and then
the other half is taken up with advertisements. It is a curious thing
that in one advertisement we are told “To Let, the Three Tuns, an old
accustomed inn on the Market Place at Peterborough, Northamptonshire,”
that being the site where the present Stamford and Spalding Bank now
stands. That was in 1730.
Twenty years later, in 1755, there is an Ipswich paper, and to show how
history repeats itself, for the consolation of our farming friends, we
are told that amongst other Acts just passed was one to continue several
laws relating to the distemper then raging among the horned cattle in the
Kingdom. There is nothing new under the sun. We have had it before, and
no doubt they said in that time legislation very much interfered with the
markets. Another curious thing in the paper is this: “The ship the Royal
George was put out of the Dock to go to Spithead.” Was this the Royal
George that “went down with twice 400 men”? Public news was important
just then. There are details as to watching the French Fleet. Those
were very anxious times, but the peculiarity of those papers is that they
gave you so little of what may be called local news. Our own local
papers give you ample City News and a Complete Chronicle of the affairs
of villages; but you may look through those papers and find nothing
approaching local news excepting this:—
“By a letter from Thirsk in Yorkshire we learn that very lately a
terrible shock of earthquake was felt, inasmuch that several large
rocks were removed to considerable distances; several large grown
elms were swallowed up by the earth so that no part of them remained
to be seen but the uppermost branches. A man driving a cart near the
place, the horses were so much frightened by the shock that they
broke loose from the carriage and ran away. The horses seem to have
behaved very sensibly.”
Then there is an advertisement which strikes one as rather peculiar,
because I think if some of the ladies now-a-days happened of this
misfortune you would hardly put it in the paper:—
“Lost out of Tom Shave’s London caravan between London and Ipswich
(but supposed to be dropped between here and Colchester) a small
black trunk, containing a pink silk gown, with a pink sarsenet
lining, a blue silk quilted petticoat, a pink silver lined child’s
hat, a white chip hat with pink ribbons, a pink silk skirt, two pair
of white cotton stockings, two shifts, two lawn handkerchiefs and
owner’s other things, with a hoop petticoat tied on the outside.”
Now, we have lived in the days of the crinoline, but I never saw one tied
on the outside!
To return to the City of Peterborough, we come to the Town Hall. When I
first knew it, it was used as a Sessions House, but it did not belong to
the magistrates, the feoffees being the owners. It was also used as a
County Court until the present new building was erected. Speaking of the
County Courts, for many years there was no summary jurisdiction for
settling small debts and quarrels, and one really wonders how the world
got on, but one feels certain there must have been a vast deal of
injustice for the want of that which really, comparatively speaking, now
brings justice home to everybody’s own door. Just think in 1810 how
difficult it was to get.
The Magistrates of the Liberty of Peterborough had a general commission
of gaol delivery. There are people living in Peterborough who recollect
a man being hanged on Butcher’s Piece, against the North Bank, under
sentence by the local magistrates, and I should imagine there was as much
heard of it as there is news given in this scrap of print. In 1820 an
Act of Parliament was passed enabling Magistrates at local jurisdictions
to commit persons charged with capital offences for trial at the Assizes.
In the Peterborough Court no counsel used to appear, and just imagine
what a sensation would be excited if we were now told by our Court of
Quarter Sessions that by authority of their Charter they were going to
hang a man. I recollect when I was a boy at school, just before I came
to Peterborough, I have been into the Old Bailey, and I have seen put
into the dock at the close of the Sessions 15 or 16 men and women, all of
whom were sentenced to be executed. Sheep stealing, horse stealing, cow
stealing, forgery, robbing a dwelling house to a certain amount were all
at that time capital offences, and you would see in the London newspapers
that the Recorder of the City had been down to Windsor to make his report
to the King, and that there were so many cases of death sentences, all of
which his Majesty was graciously pleased to respite, except some who were
to be executed as a deterrent example.
There is a novel of Theodore Hook’s which gives a most striking account,
partly humorous, and partly tragic, of the proceedings and sentences at
the Old Bailey in those days. One recollects in the course of his
professional experience many cases of interest. Many striking cases of
daring burglaries have been dealt with in Peterborough. At Glinton a
house was broken into by five or six people, most convincing evidence was
given of their violence and intimidation, and the coolness of the
witnesses on the trial of the prisoners. The witnesses, as they very
frequently are, were ordered out of Court, and as they were called they
pointed out and identified particular prisoners. After this had been
done two or three times, the gentlemen in the dock changed their
positions, thinking that probably the witnesses had been tutoring one
another, and that they would then defeat them; but it did not answer, and
it being pointed out to the jury, it sealed their conviction, convincing
them that the witnesses were accurate, and not tutored. The same thing
was mentioned in the papers a few days ago as having occurred when the
prisoners were in the dock in Dublin for the Phœnix Park murders.
Another case occurred where a gang who had been the terror of the
district, all strangers, broke into a house, the Thirty Acre Farm, at
Fengate, and striking coolness and courage was shown by a girl who was
pulled out of her bed and threatened with death to compel her to open her
box and produce her money. She afterwards identified her assailants,
some by their voices even. Then there was the robbery at Orton Stanch.
The money taken by the woman there for tolls was brought to Peterborough
weekly, and one night the place was broken into and the cash box stolen.
There was a man called Jack Hall who had settled in this part of the
country, and was connected with others of Yaxley, who committed several
robberies in the district. Hall turned informer; he was arrested for
something else, and gave information, and Stretton and a man named
Humberston were taken separately. They were first allowed to see, but
not speak to, each other, and were put into separate cells. Mr. Preston,
who used to keep the lock-up at Fletton, locked the door of the passage
dividing the cells, but was careful to leave a policeman in the passage,
where he could hear any conversation between the prisoners. Towards
morning he heard one signal, the other “Hist! Jack, what are you in for?”
“The Stanch,” was the reply. The other said, “Jack Hall’s split upon
us.” “Never mind” was the answer, “we must deny it altogether.” This
conversation was proved at the trial at the assizes, and was relied upon
to confirm the evidence. The prisoners’ counsel complained of the way
these men had been trapped, but Lord Justice Campbell, who tried them,
pointed out that they were not asked to say what they did, and they were
convicted and sentenced to transportation for life.
One other case, the robbery at the Vicarage. The thief was met coming
away. He was described as a nice, gentlemanly looking man. A young
policeman met him in the street, and that thief had the impudence to walk
and talk to him. They walked up to the G.N. Station together, and the
policeman thinking no harm, the burglar got clear away, but he was
apprehended afterwards with others. There was a defence of an alibi set
up for one, and men were brought from Northampton to declare that he was
engaged at a tea garden there at the time. The jury did not believe
them. The same defence is one of the most common. If proved, it is, of
course, most conclusive, but it is very easy to set up this defence and
get it sworn to. It was once used by a man charged with stealing a
horse, who was found riding away upon its back. It occurs in Pickwick,
when Mr. Weller says: “Samivel, why wasn’t there an alibi?”
There have not been many civil cases of any great interest, but a few
breaches of promise, and one rather peculiar case, known as the Mud case,
tried on the Midland Circuit. It was a question of right of navigation
through what is now Mr. Roberts’ granary against the river, and it was
stated that barge after barge had been brought up there. It was shown
that it was physically impossible for a boat to go up there, as there was
an obstruction rendering it impossible for any boat to pass through it.
That trial lasted for years. I was at Northampton during one of the
trials. There was another case between two tradesmen, one of whom had
been thrown amongst some implements, and in the first trial the verdict
was for the defendant; in the next the plaintiff got one shilling
damages.
I have previously given particulars about the rejoicings we had when the
railways came here. Just let me add one or two words to show it was not
all gain when the railways came. You used, if you wanted to go to
London, to get up early, and, by the Eastern Counties express, start at 6
o’clock, and be four or five hours going. In going there and coming back
you had done a hard day’s work. I used to find it necessary to be called
in good time, and recollect asking John Frisby, who used to run after the
mail, to call me. Instead of doing so a little before six, he called me
at three. “John,” I said, “do you know the time?” “Yes,” he said, “I
thought I had better be in good time.” When the railways were just made,
there was very little difference in the time taken to go to London by the
G.N.R. or G.E.R. A good fight took place between the two companies. You
could run by Northampton for 5s., instead of 11s. or 12s., by the Great
Northern, and I was once beguiled with a lady in going the cheap route.
We started at seven and arrived in London at two in the afternoon. When
we got there we were so tired we could not go out that day at all. We
had return tickets, but gave them up and came back by the G.N. The Great
Northern put a stop to it by running the direct journey there and back
for 5s. I tried that, and, coming home, was pulled in by the window, the
train being overcrowded, and sat not upon the seat, but the arms between,
and experienced for several hours something like you have seen described
after a man has been tarred and feathered, in riding a rail, or the
sensation of the monk who went into the barber’s shop, and instead of
paying the usual twopence, wanted to be shaved for the love of God.
“Certainly,” said the barber; and he shaved the monk with cold water, a
blunt razor, and a very short allowance of soap. At the conclusion of
which the monk said, “Heaven defend me from ever being shaved again for
the love of God.” He came to the conclusion, as I did, that it was
better to have things at the ordinary price and have them in the regular
way.
Washington Irving tells the story of how one of the early settlers in the
State of New York, not a very industrious person, walked out on the
Catskill Mountains on a shooting expedition, and met with a party who
were playing at skittles. They invited him to have some whisky and
water, which he accepted, and immediately fell asleep, and at the close
of half a century awoke. His faculties were in precisely the same
condition as when he fell asleep, but the world had progressed around
him. He went home and found those whom he had left young were grown old,
and many of his neighbours had vanished from the scene. He had gone
asleep under the Monarchy and awoke under the American Republic. That is
the story, the humorous side of which is admirably painted by Washington
Irving. It seems to me that in one point of view, at least when we
exercise that wonderful faculty of memory that power of abstracting
ourselves from what has passed and is passing before us, and carry
ourselves back to the days of our youth, and for a few moments ignore all
that has since passed around us that one is somewhat in the condition of
Washington Irving’s hero of the tale in America! The history of a small
city involves the history and the progress of the nation. The population
of the country has increased relatively as the population of our own City
has increased. The same causes which have led to our improvement have
led to the improvement and the advancement in wealth, honour, and
happiness of the increased population which these circumstances have
brought into being. Nothing, I think, could be more distressing than to
have our progress blotted out. That is not the way in which a wise and
merciful Providence deals with his creatures. Our troubles, our
afflictions, the memory of those we have lost, become pleasant memories.
We do not fail to notice the beauty of the thought that those who are
taken from us are not lost, but only gone before. And so it is in the
life of a nation. If one were depicting the life of the nation for the
last 50 year’s one would speak of the happiness that the great bulk of
the population enjoyed.
I have lived through the Chartist Riots, the Irish Famine, and the Cotton
Famine, which tried the endurance of our artisans in the manufacturing
districts, and caused in the minds of statesmen and of every thinking man
the great apprehensions as to its bearing upon the industry and wealth
and happiness of the country. I have lived through periods of war—the
Crimean War, when the thoughts of everyone were directed to our Army in
distress barely holding its own through that dreadful winter—and the
Indian Mutiny. All these incidents in the life of a nation answer to the
troubles and afflictions in the life of the individual. We have survived
the troubles which faced us, and how can I do more than say that thoughts
such as these remind us of our duties as Citizens, as individuals, as
members of the great community, showing us how much we have to be
thankful for and how much we are dependent on circumstances.
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