Plague-Water

Ring-a-ring-a-roses
A pocketful of posies
Atishoo atishoo
We all fall down.


On Cheapside today, London reached a special pitch of airlessness and I was put in mind of the plague.  Summer was the time to leave London, particularly after the Great Plague of 1665-6 and throughout the 18th century whilst there were outbreaks of 'plague' here and there, there was nothing to compare to the death toll of earlier decades. 

The plague is a massive subject and impossible to deal with in one post, but two distinct and opposite images came to mind: Hannah Glasse's recipt for 'plague-water', a no-holds-barred treatment for the infected, and the curious case of Buckingham.  Hannah's receipt involves 24 roots, 16 flowers and 13 seeds and 2 types of berries, plus copious boiling and 'stilling' in an alembic.  This massive herbal overkill shows the desperation a carer might feel for a patient or family member with plague, willing to try anything and everything to save them (and there is no doubt that making up this receipt would have provided work for worried hands), and probably provided a sweet-smelling send off rather than a cure.  A shortened version, boiled in vinegar and poured onto handkerchiefs was supposedly a preventative. 

Buckingham is an altogether different matter, and at the other end of the care spectrum.  Buckingham was one of the collectors of the deceased, working the streets with his 'dead cart'.  During the Great Plague, as his cart clattered through the City he would cry, 'Faggots, faggots, five for sixpence, and take up a child by the leg'.  His behaviour was too much to be endured, and he was arrested, 'whipt' and sent to gaol by Lord Craven for offending public sensibilities.

These examples are extremes and by the time Hannah's receipt was published plague was dying out, if not gone.  There is now talk of genetic resistance amongst survivors (it is estimated just under a third of the infected survived) but no one really knows why.  From the red ring of the first plague swellings, to Hannah and her predecessors' sweet pocketfuls of posies, to the feverish symptoms, to the unknown outcome after 'we all fall down', plague and all such other 'summer-fevers' were a dreaded annual occurence.  Curious to think how diseases that were a deadly spectre on London's hot and airless streets are now little more than a jaunty (if slightly sinister) rhyme still sung by children in playgrounds, the meaning long forgotten.

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And No Questions Ask'd: Retrieving Lost and Stolen Goods in Georgian London

Before there was a police force, it is easy to imagine victims of crime or misfortune as without resources to redress the balance.  For serious fraud, murder and crimes against the body, there were the courts, but what if you were burgled, had your pocket picked, or were just a bit careless and had lost your engagement ring?  Then you needed a warning-carrier.

Warning-carriers operated as part of the Goldsmiths' Livery Company.  Livery Companies were essentially large, regulatory bodies for their own members.  They policed and protected every part of London's trade (salters, drapers, tanners, fishmongers, butchers and many more all have a company).  As such, some of them, like the Goldsmiths', became rich and grand, but their purpose remained the same: protection of their members' commercial activities.  Their effectiveness during the Georgian period is for another post, but in the context of the warning-carriers, they provided an intriguing and valuable service.

For a set fee (not cheap at a fraction over 11 shillings), Goldsmiths' Hall would print and distribute details of what you had lost and where, any pertinent facts, instructions on what to do should the goods be discovered and any reward offered.  These notices would then be distributed to beadles who visited every banker, goldsmith, jeweller, pawnbroker and 'toyman' (trinket shop) in London within three hours.  Three hours!  This was all done on foot, by goldsmiths who had fallen upon hard times and were employed as beadles.  The fliers were also pinned up at Goldsmiths' Hall where anyone who had found something could go along and see how they might claim a reward.  Most of the notices are for bank notes ('stop'd at bank' interestingly enough), and jewellery that has been either lost or stolen.  The amount of lost and really rather large diamonds sculling about London is astonishing.

December 6, 1728
Dropt out of a Lady's Ear, on Wednesday or Thursday, in the Hay Market or thereabout, a Night Ear Ring, set with three Brilliants weighing about three Grains...Whoever will bring it to Mr Jacob Levy, jun. Jeweller at the Upper End of Haymarket; or, at Chadwell's Coffee house behind the Royal Exchange, shall have Two Guineas Reward.

March 14, 1728
Stole this Morning being the 14th of March, out of the House of Mr Christopher Randel, a Gardener living near the Blue Anchor in S. Mary Magdalen's Parish Bermindsey, a full Quart Silver Tankard, mark'd on the handle CRM, Value about Ten Pounds, with three silver spoons of different Marks. If offer'd to be pawn'd, sold or valued, you are desired to stop them and the Party, and give notice to Mr Randel as above, and you shall have Two Guineas reward for the Whole, or for the Tankard alone.

February 7, 1726-7
Lost or mislaid last Week, a Brilliant, weight nine Grains, and sixteen square, Stone white and clean.  If offer'd to be sold, pawn'd, or valued, pray stop it and give notice to Mr Morris, Master of Robin's Coffee-house, and you shall have Ten Guineas Reward, and no Questions ask'd; or if anybody has found it, and give Notice as above, shall have the same Reward.

Two very interesting conclusions can be drawn from these little fliers: they were effective, it couldn't be otherwise judging by the amount of warnings carried; the original owner of the goods nine out of ten times preferred to remain anonymous and brokered the retrieval of their goods through a banker or a coffee house.  The valuable sentence 'No questions ask'd' is included at the tail of almost every notice.

This is a tiny example of the thousands of mechanisms running through daily life in Georgian London.  There is often an assumption that it was a lawless or chaotic place before an organised police force, but examples such as the warning-carriers show that there were established protocols in place dealing with every aspect of life in the city.  Bearing in mind how long it can take to get a response to a burglary from the 21stC police, that a private body visited every likely outlet within three hours makes this system both remarkable, and admirable.

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Plate Four of Hogarth's Harlot's Progress

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Plate Three of Hogarth's Harlot's Progress

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Burking and Body-Snatching: The Deadly Side of Medicine in Georgian London

Some time ago I noted in a blog post about Bart's Hospital that the hospital's methods of obtaining bodies for anatomical study would bear further scrutiny, ideally as a PhD thesis (not by me, I hasten to add).  Last weekend, an article appeared in the Guardian regarding Don Shelton's latest paper in the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, where he posits that surgeons William Hunter and William Smellie had women at their full-term of pregnancy murdered or 'burked' to provide bodies to further their obstetric studies.  He's right in that the numbers don't add up, and that it is rare for a woman to die at full-term but without having begun labour, which seems to be their favoured choice of subject.  However, whilst he has made a valuable study and some very salient points, I stall at his inference of murder.  If you care what I think (and why should you?), this is why I don't agree.

There is no argument that both Smellie and Hunter were unscrupulous when it came to acquiring subjects for study, or for Hunter's medical 'museum' of freakery.  Hunter in particular behaved appallingly over the corpses of various subjects he had his eye on, bribing family and friends to bring the body to him after the final illness, whatever the wishes of the person in question.  Most famously, he paid the friends of Irish giant Charles Byrne five hundred pounds to supply him with Byrne's body, despite the fact that Byrne hated Hunter and specifically requested that he be buried at sea to avoid the anatomist's knife <this is an error on my part - it was actually John Hunter, William's younger brother who did this>.  Being utterly ruthless and sanctioning murder are not the same.  At one point, Hunter noted against Smellie's study of twins in utero that Dr MacKenzie, Smellie's assistant had procured and dissected the body without Smellie's knowledge 'was the cause of a separation between them, as the leading steps to such discovery could not be kept secret'.  This indicated that the woman had been obtained by methods not sanctioned by Smellie and that he did not want to be associated with such methods.  Hunter and Smellie were rivals medically, and both were aware that the whole business of procuring subjects would not bear scrutiny in polite society, but it doesn't mean they were turning a blind eye to the possible murdering of pregnant women.

Shelton examines the mechanisms of burial and arrives, quite rightly, at the conclusion that most 'resurrected' bodies were obtained from the poorhouses, either pre or post burial.  He also asserts that people in a paupers' cemetery were placed in large pits and left uncovered until the pit was full.  Nowhere in any of my studies have I found this to be true.  Yes, destitute people were placed in communal graves in burial grounds throughout the city, but they were placed there with a bit of dignity and covered over with earth, even if others were later to be added to the grave.  They were also prayed over by the incumbent.  The pragmatism displayed by Georgian Londoners in the face of death and illness is not the same as being callous or unfeeling.

The rarity of death in women at full-term is a fact that cannot be argued with.  However, in this we are largely influenced by modern statistics and the success of modern obstetric medicine, but pre-eclampsia is a dangerous condition still common now, affecting up to ten percent of pregnancies.  Characterized by very high blood pressure, pain in the chest, damage to vital organs through raised blood protein levels, seizures and possible cerebral haemmorhages, there was no effective treatment for this condition in the 18thC.  Sufferers describe the attendant pains of pre-eclampsia as unbearable, and medicate accordingly which may have resulted in overdose.  If untreated, pre-eclampsia can prove fatal to both mother and child, and in Georgian London, would have meant many more mothers died when heavily pregnant, but without loss or damage to the body that would prevent an anatomist making a detailed study of the gravid uterus.

My last point is upon Shelton's light treatment of the 'resurrectionists'.  Obtaining corpses for anatomical study wasn't an obvious career choice, granted.  It would require a strong stomach, both morally and literally and a network of connections with like-minded individuals.  Nevertheless, it was a job, perhaps coupled with another part-time occupation, but one taken seriously by those who engaged in it.  They would know the poorhouses and those who supervised, they'd watch to see who came and went.  Scoliotic, palsied, deformed or otherwise 'freakish' subjects were all required, as well as pregnant women.  No doubt palms were heavily greased for word of a death.  I don't believe for a moment that resurrectionists simply disinterred corpses 'randomly'.  Most were probably never even buried.  Vultures may be abhorrent creatures, but they let nature do the killing.

From the study of Smellie and Hunter's extant works, it appears they obtained 32 full term corpses in 13 years.  I believe this number of women were available through natural death, but their bodies were obtained through fairly creepy and suspect supply chains, rather than murder.  The woman pregnant with twins was clearly too much for MacKenzie to resist, and I am sure there were indeed murders associated with the study of anatomy, but I disagree with the condemnation of Smellie and Hunter as serial-killers and the sensationalism is both unpleasant and inaccurate.  The inference that the men also worked on women rendered unconscious but still alive has no basis in fact whatsoever.<to further clarify this point: women were not 'anatomized' whilst still alive, although there are cases where C-sections were undertaken with little hope of the mother's survival.  This does not make the operating doctor a monster.>  Smellie and Hunter were at the top of the medical tree, doing valuable work.  Associated with them were a large number of 'worker bees', from the artist Jan van Rymsdyk, who produced the astonishing images in the gallery to the poorhouse supervisor who shuffled the bodies out of the back door, to the grave-digger who after dark disinterred a body he had only just covered over.  For my money, Rymsdyk is the scary one: he sat with these bodies for hours, studying them in minute detail and there is an adoring beauty to his renderings of these unfortunate women and their children: the sitting posture of the gravid woman, with her knees covered by a blanket, but her internal organs displayed by the neat flaying of the anatomist, and the baby curled snugly inside her, a stray wisp of its hair escaping the womb.  There is a liveliness and humanity to the drawings that eludes the photographer's lens in post-mortem photography.

It is too easy to look back at history and attribute cruelty and inhumanity to people who lived in a time when death was a closer companion than it is now.  As I hope this blog has shown, the 18thC is an interesting enough place to spend time even without sensationalism. 

         
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Princess Serafina: London's First Recorded Drag Artist

This post is the first in a short series on the history of homosexuality and transgender people in 18thC London to celebrate LGBT History month.  I like to think the blog constantly celebrates every individual who contributed to making London one of the greatest European cities of the 1700s but this is my small addition to an excellent cause.  

On the 5th of July 1732 Thomas Gordon was indicted for robbing one John Cooper, of Number 11, Eagle-court, the Strand.  The two men had taken a walk together in Chelsea Fields 'to a secret place', and Gordon had threatened Cooper with a knife unless he gave up all his clothing and his jewellery and changed it with Gordon's.  At first, it appeared to be one of those robberies that happens late at night on Clapham Common, between two previously unacquainted gentlemen.  The vast majority of such crimes are never even reported let alone prosecuted even in these 'enlightened' times, so the fact that John Cooper brought this to trial in 1732 is quite astonishing.  The trial that followed was to be even more incredible.

Gordon had left Cooper with the words that if he 'charged him with Robbery, by and by', he would in turn tell the authorities Cooper had given him the 'Cloathes' as payment for 'Buggery'.  (Cooper's clothes are closely detailed as fine masculine apparel, and this fact was to become central later on.)  Bizarrely, the two men walked back to Piccadilly together, where Cooper shouted for two passing men (it must have been about dawn by this point) to restrain Gordon.  Bundling him into yet another all-night pub, they had a shouting match in which Cooper accused Gordon of theft, and Gordon made good on his threat to announce to his detainers that he had been paid for services rendered.  

Modern readings of this minutely-documented trial are based around Cooper's outrageous alter-ego, but there are valuable insights to be gleaned from the reception the news of male prostitution garnered in the Piccadilly pub: the two men who had detained Gordon were unfazed, but told Cooper that if he were proved a liar and if it was simply a sex transaction gone wrong, then he would be liable for their time.  Cooper agreed to reimburse them if he was not successful in prosecuting Gordon.  From the quality of his clothing, and his confident demeanor, Cooper was neither poor nor ignorant, and was certainly not fazed by the threat of being outed, even if he was aware that his temporary employees were not quite on his side, as they would later trip him when Gordon escaped.

The case came to trial, and both stuck to their stories.  Such tales were not uncommon in the 18thC, but it was a rare for them to have their day in court, and those present watched avidly as an odd tale unfolded.  The keeper of the Piccadilly alehouse testified that the men arrived in his establishment and argued about the loose change that had been in the pockets of the clothes they had exchanged, and drunk at least four pints of beer together.  Edward Pocock, who had stumbled upon the pair at their 'secret place' in Chelsea Fields testified that the two were putting on their clothing when he chanced across them, and behaved very 'loving'.   He also begged some forgiveness for his accuracy as he had been drinking and was so drunk upon returning home that he fell asleep in his clothes.  Well, it had been a public holiday after all.

Tom Gordon was widely acknowledged by the witnesses as a bad lot, and this is probably why he ended up at trial.  John Cooper was a fixer for the richer members of Gay London when they desired an assignation: when they fancied a drummer boy, or a market labourer, Cooper was the man to 'smooth the way', with fine words and the soft clink of a guinea or two.  I think there is little doubt he was homosexual, although his gender-specific behaviour is more interesting in context.  Jane Jones the laundress came to the witness box, and casually referred to Cooper, the prosecutor, as 'Princess Serafina'.  The adoption of female names was not unusual in the gay subculture of Georgian London.  Jones agreed with the general opinion of Gordon as a bad lot, but was sad that a simple case of 'Sodomity, what ever that is' had to come to court.  

On a different note, Mary Holder was the proprietress of the alehouse where the two men drank together, and Mary Poplet was the landlady of the Two Sugar-loaves in Drury Lane where they finally ended up after their quarrel.  Poplet, who was a neighbour to John Cooper and his official employers, the Tulls, gave this account of his character:

I have known her Highness a pretty while, she us'd to come to my House from Mr. Tull, to enquire after some Gentlemen of no very good Character; I have seen her several times in Women's Cloaths, she commonly us'd to wear a white Gown, and a scarlet Cloak, with her Hair frizzled and curl'd all round her Forehead; and then she would so flutter her Fan, and make such fine Curt'sies, that you would not have known her from a Woman: She takes great Delight in Balls and Masquerades, and always chuses to appear at them in a Female Dress, that she may have the Satisfation of dancing with fine Gentlemen. Her Highness lives with Mr. Tull in Eagle-Court in the Strand, and calls him her Master, because she was Nurse to him and his Wife when they were both in a Salivation (salivation was a mercurial cure for syphilis); but the Princess is rather Mr. Tull's Friend, than his domestick Servant. I never heard that she had any other Name than the Princess Seraphina.

Three more women of the neighbourhood were to give evidence, and all knew John Cooper as Princess Seraphina, and all knew he had fallen out with Tom Gordon.  It seems little more than an argument about sex that got out of hand, so to speak.  Tom Gordon was known to turn a trick or two, and the Princess was known to enjoy the company of a gentleman, or two.  The case is quite unique in terms of the 18thC, and one can only imagine the sniggering upon the sidelines.  There are however, some facts that stand out in this case, and are worth serious consideration in terms of 18thC attitudes towards transgender individuals.  The female witnesses uniformly refer to the Princess as 'she'.  John Cooper earned his official living as a nurse, an exclusively (as far as history is concerned) female occupation.  He regularly wore women's clothes, and was clearly tolerated, if not wholly accepted within his home community.  He was certainly sufficiently at ease in female clothing to sally forth in such to balls and social events, where he hoped to meet the 'fine gentlemen'.

 

Tom Gordon was acquitted, but I think this is more to do with the fact that it was almost certainly a sexual engagement that had ended in a quarrel.  That John Cooper felt secure enough within his own environment, and the justice system, to pursue a conviction is telling.  He may well have felt forced into a corner, but I think it unlikely he would have taken the case to court over a suit of clothes if he had felt his life were at risk.  After the trial, John Cooper drops out of sight, something for which I think he was probably very grateful.  Apparently he was fond of the masked balls in Vauxhall Gardens, where it was the rage for the men to dress as women and vice versa, and that's where I like to think of him, with her curls and her fan, taking a break from his day job of nursing London's sick.

 

p.s. I would advise anyone interested in the primary texts of 18thC LGBT history and its scholarship to visit http://rictornorton.co.uk/ as a valuable and free online resource for the study of history and sexuality.  More details on the things going on this month to raise awareness can be found at www.lgbthistorymonth.org 

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A Molly's Map of Georgian London

Click the Gay London and Lewd London tags to see the stories related to this map.

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Early Policing and the Bow Street Runners

In medieval and early modern London, the policing was done in a feudal fashion.  Older men who had fallen on hard times and had little hope of employment were given positions as night-watchmen.  They had to tramp the streets between dusk and dawn, taking any offenders to the 'round-houses' positioned in each parish.  Round-houses were the size of a small greenhouse and usually sat against the corner of a church yard or on the edge of the road (they weren't always round either).  

Around the clock or at least on call, there were the parish constables who came at a few minutes notice to aid the night-watchmen.  Every able-bodied, coherent man in the parish had to serve as a constable for a set term when his time came, although it was possible to pay a fine to avoid the duty.  If someone had to be put in the round-house, a constable would have to check on the offender and confirm the decision of the watch.  Imprisonment in the round-house was literally overnight, but prisoners were usually fed and watered.  

Next up, Justices of the Peace oversaw their district.  Out in the parishes, they would have been familiar with the worst trouble makers and dealt with them accordingly; within London they frequently bought their positions and then traded favours and bribes.  The Justices could choose to turn a blind eye, but they could also try minor offences and dole out whippings, fines, pillories and so forth.  If a case was too grave for them to handle, they would commit the case to trial at the Old Bailey.  

Outside local control, there were thief-takers who operated much like modern private-detectives, on a case-by-case basis.  They took a fee from the victim to track down the perpetrator of a crime and bring them in for punishment.  In many ways, they worked like a modern bounty-hunter, but frequently operated on both sides of the law.  More on famous thief-takers in another post.

In 1749, Henry Fielding was made chief magistrate in Westminster, sitting at the Bow Street Magistrates' Court.  Fielding was a writer and a gentleman, but more importantly he was an Old Etonian and friend of William Pitt the Elder.  He had many other influential friends and between them, they had managed to establish a central, government fund that would pay for a body of men to enforce the consequences of crime.  As incredible as it seems, the idea of a 'policed state' was as feared in the mid 17thC as it is now.  The populace found the idea of a life controlled by central government abhorrent, and were very likely to protest if they felt such a thing were being forced upon them.  Instead, the early 'runners' at the Bow Street Magistrates' Court were tagged as gophers who delivered court summons and picked up those who had defied being bound over.  Outwardly, they were a cross between a barristers clerk and thief-taker.  They worked out of No. 4 Bow Street, but wore no uniform (I know, disappointing for the Robin Redbreast theorists).  They did however, travel across Britain to catch their man, and were very successful.  

By 1754, Henry Fielding's health was failing and he 'gifted' his position to his blind half-brother John Fielding, who could apparently tell a liar from the sound of their voice.  This, I am not entirely sure about, but it cannot be discounted, and John Fielding had no small success during his tenure at Bow Street.  

The Runners tended to be London born and bred; they knew the people, the ghettos, the pubs and brothels where people could be found.  They didn't flinch from serving notices, warrants or summons and they were effective in solving crime.  Although the government support for their activities was covert, it was present and it worked.  In the 19th century, policing would go from strength to strength, and by then John Townsend, one of the early Runners had become 'friendly' with George IIIrd and promenaded with him, telling the King risqué stories.  Townsend was reputed to wear a handkerchief between his head and hat, and he raised the hat any time someone (including himself) mentioned the Royal family: clearly a character.

More on individual Runners, cases and the evolution of the London Metropolitan Police another time.  

 

         
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Children in the Old Bailey

 

The stereotypical image of the Georgian law courts is that of a fat judge donning the black silk to pass the death sentence on some poor soul whose desperation for a crust of bread led them to steal a lace handkerchief.  The records of the Central Criminal Court show a rather more complex set of values.  

It was difficult to be a child witness: you had to testify in court, but your testimony was not necessarily taken into account.  If your testimony was deemed 'notable', it would no doubt influence the jurors, but it would not secure a conviction if there was not substantial evidence to back it up.  The main crimes committed against children are murder and manslaughter (no testimony from the child) and rape.  The first two are pretty clear cut, with only niceties dividing them in some cases, but the latter is a quagmire, and one that will require a strong stomach to investigate, or read, further.  I judge you forewarned.

 

Infanticide has long been deemed one of the foulest crimes.  Mothers who kill their children are deemed 'unnatural' and the usual punishment was death.  A typical scenario, of which I have found more than twenty between 1674 and 1700 was of a serving girl, who finds herself pregnant, delivers the baby in secret and whether it is alive or dead, disposes of it in the 'House of Office'.  How many babies perished in cess-pits is hard to say, but the routine nature of the court reports mean it was no uncommon occurrence.  Little accommodation was made for the mother: failing to make another aware of your labour and delivering in secret was illegal (presumably to avoid baby-swapping/smothering).  A case of 1674, in which the Ordinary, or court reporter recorded the reactions of those present, and the complexities of the law which led to a guilty verdict:

 

The next seemed to be an object of Compassion to most people present, a poor young Wench lodging about Thames street, betrayed (apparently the father of her child had promised to marry her) and getting her with Child, which being perceived by the Woman that she lodged with...this etous woman...cruelly turned her out of doors, and set her in another Parish, and there left her in pains, telling her than now the said Parish were bound to provide for her.  In this sad condition in the street, and without any help was this poor Creature delivered, and being found lying as one half dead by the watch, and her condition perceived; a midwife was called, who found the Child dead, but not separated from her Body, when she came to her; who asking her if it were still-born, the Prisoner both then and now said, it was not, for she heard it, cry, but denied that she intended or used any wilful means to make away the Life of it nor did there any signs of Violence appear save only some little spots or marks of a Bruse or Pinch on the Throat, which some conceive might be occasion'd Involuntarily in struggling to Promote its Birth; by an ignorant Woman in her circumstances: however being a Bastard Child, and the law makeing it death in that case for any woman to be delivered alone without calling help, she was thereupon found Guilty (and sentenced to death).

 

A fairly grim example of 17thC justice, although report makes it clear that neither the observers or the recorder were happy about it.  Not every court was so unsympathetic, and more than one case brings to light the recognition of post natal depression.

 

The fact upon the Evidence given into the Court appeared to be thus; this woman had (not long before the fact) been delivered of the Child...she was observed for some time before to be some what discomposed and distempered in her mind;...The day whereon this tragedy was acted, this unnatural Mother Orders her Nurse to make her a Sea-Coal fire in her Chamber, and to blow it up well pretending she was cold; this being done, she sends the aforesaid Nurse upon some arrand out of doores; and then takes her little Infant in her hands...she cruelly thrust the poor Innocent into it, and then threw the Coals upon it, where it was burned to Death; A little while after the Nurse returning and perceiving some of the Child cloths upon the fire, snatching to take them off, caught hold of some part of the Child that was not then consumed, whereupon Surprized with the horror of the sight, she shreikt out and askt who had done it, which the Cruel Mother presently confessed to be her self, and was thereupon taken into the hands of Justice, and at this Sessions tryed for her Life, as I have before told you, she was at last Cleared by the Jury who judged her not to be of sound mind before, and at the time of doing the fact, and therefore brought her in not Guilty (with a verdict of non compos mentis).

 

The potentially dangerous nature of life on the unregulated London thoroughfare is attested to by the many children killed by carriages and stagecoaches.  One particularly horrific incident involves a little girl's face 'being ground against a post' until dreadful things happened, but what follows is an account of a typical accident in 1732, and a typical punishment: branding.

 

Joshua Floyd was indicted on the Coroner's Inquisition, for feloniously in the parish of St Paul's of Covent-garden John Urly, aged 9 Years, by driving 2 Horses, Harness'd to a loaded Dray, whereby the said John receiv'd one mortal Bruise in the Head, of which he instantly dy'd, the 28th of April last.  The Child was sitting at a Bench, when the Prisoner came along with a Dray, which he drove close to the Houses, that the Off-wheel broke down the Bench, and wedged the Child's Head up against an Iron-Grate; the Blood gush'd from his Neck, his Nose, and Eyes, and he dy'd on the Spot.  Guilty.

 

Of course, accidents and murder weren't the only thing that happened to children: almost all the cases of rape that appear at the Old Bailey at the turn of the 17thC concern the rape of children.  It was illegal to have sex with a child under ten years old, no argument.  If it could be proven that a child had been penetrated by an adult male, then he would be hanged, no excuses.  To establish said penetration, the girl would have to be examined by a midwife, or often two, and a surgeon.  Modesty played no part in the court proceedings, and the state of the victims injuries were put before the jury in graphic terms.  Indeed, one Philip Roberts was judged innocent of 'ravishing' Jane Harris in 1683, because of mother and daughter's 'over-much modesty'.  It was very common for proof of rape to include the testimony that the child had contracted venereal disease as a result of the rape.  This is more likely to have been a physical result of the damage done by abuse, rather than disease, but that cannot now be verified.  In one extraordinary case of 1678, various witnesses attested to the fact that 8 year old Elizabeth Hopkins 'took pleasure in' being raped by Stephen Arrowsmith (it appears from their testimonies that they had been bribed), but the jury had none of it, and he hanged.

 

One final case sad account of a child in court is the case in 1678 of two young Westminster boys:


Another unhappy Murther haypened at Westminster by the discord of two young Lads, who quarrel'd about cutting their Apron-strings, being Shoomakers, the younger not knowing how to revenge himself, took a three peny Knife and stabb'd the other, who run out of the Shop with his Bowels in his hands, cri'd, Lord have mercie upon my Soul, Daniel has kill'd me. The Lord Chief Baron after he had heard the Evidence, wish'd the Jury to consider whether the boy understood what he had done or not, he being but thirteen years and a month old, the Jury afterwards brought him in guilty of Man's Slaughter.

 

There is no record of any punishment for the boy, but I suspect what he had done marked him as clearly any brand.

 

 

   
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The Birth of the Surveillance Society

Morals reformed - health preserved - industry invigorated, instruction diffused - public burthens lightened - Economy seated, as it were, upon a rock - the gordian knot of the Poor-Laws are not cut, but untied - all by a simple idea in Architecture!
Jeremy Bentham, The Panopticon

Jeremy Bentham was, without doubt, a genius.  Born in Spitalfields in 1748 to a Tory family, he began his formal education at the age of 3 after showing remarkable precocity.  He went on to promote equal rights for women (and also animal rights), recommend the decriminalization of homosexuality, the hanging of pederasts, experimentation with bestiality and the banning of masturbation.  A mixed bag then.  


He was a Utilitarian, which is an excellent idea in theory, but results in the sort of inflexibility that left him unmarried despite desiring greatly to acquire a wife.  His emphasis upon purpose and utility, plus his experience of the law led him to create the Panopticon, a new kind of prison.  Prisons at the time were usually either older buildings, adapted with varying degrees of success, or purpose-built hulks interested only in segregation and secure confinement.  Bentham's proposals for the Panopticon, produced in 1787, read very reasonably and there is much to recommend, but along the way it becomes something far more than the sum of its parts: a monster.  A circular prison whose capacity was limited only by the contemporary inability to build much above four stories, cells were ranged about a central observation tower.  In the tower, a hidden warder was able to watch each barred cell without the inmates knowing if he was even there or not.  They could not rely on a warder's inattention, even for a moment, but nor could they assume their actions, or lack of said were even noted.  Now, we are used to the omniscience of CCTV, and some even find being watched throughout their day reassuring.  At the end of the 18thC, this was a seriously disturbing concept and not one readily adopted by prison planners (although many other of Bentham's recommendations, such as central heating for prisoners were adopted in new prisons).  Whilst they were keen on the idea of being able to leave prisoners unfettered, and on the economies allowed by dramatically reducing warder to prisoner ratio, the idea of being watched by a faceless entity was viewed as deeply sinister, a fact that slipped past Bentham completely:

A building circular... The prisoners in their cells, occupying the circumference—The officers in the centre. By blinds and other contrivances, the Inspectors concealed... from the observation of the prisoners: hence the sentiment of a sort of omnipresence—The whole circuit reviewable with little, or... without any, change of place. One station in the inspection part affording the most perfect view of every cell.

The Panopticon has gone on the fire the imagination of almost every philosopher, not to mention science-fiction writer since (1984 anyone?).  For reasons I cannot quite place, it is one of the most disturbing ideas ever concocted for honest, humanitarian reasons.  The only true Panopticons ever built were in North America, to Bentham's model.  (Pentonville prison is often incorrectly cited as an example.)  There's tons I could write on Bentham, but instead I shall let you consider the Panopticon through the gallery.   

         
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