Category: Uncategorized

LOUISA CORNELL

Ghost stories abound from one end of England to the other. Whether born of local legend or eyewitness accounts, a country with so long and an often violent history should not be looked at askance when the subject of ghost stories and other supernatural occurrences come up.

However, there are some very specific tales of ghosts and beasties indigenous to England’s coast that served a very specific purpose. During the late 18th and early 19th centuries the business of nearly every inhabitant of every village along the coasts of Cornwall, Devon, Essex, and Kent was in some way connected to the smuggling trade. The most important part of the trade involved making certain the movement of goods brought over from the Continent by ship made it from said ships to shore and then to their final, lucrative destination without being seen, especially by any agents of the Crown patrolling the area in search of goods smuggled into the country without benefit of the Crown collecting the appropriate taxes.

Numerous tricks and methods of subterfuge were used to make certain the transport of smuggled goods was not detected. But perhaps no method was more creative than the spinning of ghost stories and legendary specters meant to frighten the locals from venturing out at night, when most of this transport took place, and putting a scare into the customs men and excise riders whose job it was to stop them. Remember in this era superstition and connection to the world on the other side of the veil was not only part of the average citizen’s psyche it was also still woven into the fabric of the nation’s spiritual life.

 

 

Here are a few of those tales. Judge for yourself!

 

 

 

At Hadleigh Castle a pair of ‘phantoms’, – the White Lady and Black Man – made dramatic appearances just before a shipment of illicit liquor arrived, and duly disappeared when all the liquor had been moved away.

There is no doubt that the famous 18th century legend of ‘the Ghostly Drummer of Hurstmonceaux Castle’ in Sussex started with some enterprising smugglers and a little phosphorus!

The Saltersgate Inn, previously known as the Wagon and Horses stood in an elevated position on the moors, on what is now the main road between Pickering and Whitby, with its name thought to originate from the salting of fish which is believed to have taken place here. The name of the inn could potentially have been derived from the Yorkshire word ‘Yate’ meaning road, therefore ‘Salters Road’. It is said that one night, a customs official, on finding out that illicit trading activities were taking place at the inn, was murdered by smugglers and his body buried beneath the fireplace. It was said that if the fire was ever to stop burning, then the ghost of the murdered officer would return to haunt the inn.

The Old Bell has been around for a very long time, originally starting life as a hospice and hostel that was run by monks during the Norman conquest nearly 1000 years ago. A ghost of a middle-aged man was said to sit beside the fireplace in the dining area. Beer barrels were said to be supernaturally re-arranged in the cellar of the Bell overnight when the tavern was closed, and in the grounds of the pub the ghost of a civil war Royalist Cavalier and his horse was reported. It’s hard to not miss the fact that in some cases the stories of ghosts were actually invented by smugglers themselves to keep people away from certain buildings. And The Old Bell was known to be an overnight stop for some of the brandy and rum coming over from France.

 

 

 

 

 

The ghostly tales of the Mermaid Inn are extensive and are hardly surprising considering the history of the building. The Elizabethan chamber, also known now as Room 16, reportedly hosts two figures dueling, without making a sound. They were both armed with rapiers and they were both well dressed in hose and doublets. Eventually one was dealt a fatal thrust and appeared to die, the winner of the duel takes a nervous glance around the room before dragging the body of his opponent to a nearby tarp door and disposing of it!

Another tale tells of the room now known as The Hawkhurst Room, namesake of the Hawkhurst Gang where a man dressed as a smuggler sits on the bed in the middle of the night.

Where doesn’t have a white or grey lady story in it’s history? The Mermaid has a few different shaded ladies in residence. A lady in white is said to haunt the inn (busy place) said to walk from the single room and across to the main room of the Nutcracker Suite then straight through the door while stopped for a moment at the foot of the bed. This lady in white has been said to be the spirit of a girl who made the mistake of falling in love with one of the many smugglers of the area during the 1700’s. Apparently though she was very chatty which as we should know by now the smuggling gangs were not keen on, especially when the chat was about their business. Hardly surprising that they were said to have murdered her for talking too much. She’s said to still wander the rooms in death, forever searching for her lover. There’s also been many reports of a lady wearing white or maybe grey who is seen sitting by the fireplace in a chair in what is now Room One. Guests apparently report getting wet clothes if they leave them on this chair overnight despite the lack of windows or even pipework near the chair.

One room in the Mermaid is said to have lots of reports, apparently all around Halloween many of a rocking chair which moves of it’s own accord as the temperature of the room plunges, in fact this has been said to be so unnerving that maids would only clean this room if with a colleague. One worker reported seeing the chair rocking quickly and seeing the cushion compress as if a live person was sat on it…but invisible. Some that have stayed in the room have reported hearing someone walking around the bed but there being nobody there upon inspection.

Other Supernatural Abettors to the Smuggling Trade

A mysterious herd of horses were said to guard the smugglers’ way up from the beaches of Cornwall. Fierce horses with fiery red eyes and hooves that sparked when they touched the ground were said to appear out of the mists to anyone foolish enough to travel those paths at night, especially on stormy nights known as “smugglers’ weather.”

Several smugglers’ villages had a local hell hound who guarded the local cemetery from customs men and excise riders and anyone else foolish enough to venture there after dark. Why? Because another stop on the smuggler’s route was often the tomb of a local wealthy family where the goods might be stored until they could be divided up to be sold. Again the ferocious black dogs had red glowing eyes, fangs dripping blood, and were said to to be the size of a small bull.

 

 

 

Ghostly owls were also part of a smuggler’s arsenal to keep prying eyes from their business. As owls were often associated with witches this threat was a twofold weapon. Especially as smugglers often used owl calls to communicate with each other!

What does this all mean? These stories, often created by the smugglers themselves, were a very real and very effective deterrent to detection! Were these ghosts and apparitions real or did they have any basis in fact? That’s the question, isn’t it?

LOUISA CORNELL

The thing about taverns, also known as public houses and now known by the shortened PUB, is that much of a community’s life was lived there. Every aspect of life was celebrated at the local tavern. Every type of business, legal and illegal, was conducted there. And every sort of relationship, passionate or cold, toxic or sweet, loving or murderous was often played out in the local tavern. With so much of life taking place in these microcosms of London, one cannot be surprised that the energy –  good or bad, mad or sane, saintly or evil – has lingered long after those who lived these events and emotions are gone. Don’t believe me? The next time you are fortunate enough to be in London, stop by these locals, if you dare!

 

TOWN OF RAMSGATE

WAPPING

62 Wapping High Street

London

Should you decide to explore the alleyway to the side of the pub that leads to the Wapping Old Stairs you might encounter the local ghost, a ghost the Thames Police have reported seeing to this day. Judge George Jeffreys, 1st Baron Jeffreys, (15 May 1645 – 18 April 1689) rose to prominence during the reign of James II. He became Lord Chief Justice and eventually Lord Chancellor. His loyalty to the king was without question. However, after Monmouth’s Rebellion in 1685 he was sent to the West Country to conduct the trials of those rebels who participated in the rebellion. He gained a reputation for his abuse of the attorneys of the accused, his sometimes biased application of the law and his tendency to hand out death sentences like drinks at a political rally. He became the most feared and hated judge in England.

After James II fled England and William and Mary ascended the throne, Jeffreys waited to long to follow his king to the Continent. In 1688 he disguised himself as a sailor, shaved his distinctive bushy brows, and waited at the Town of Ramsgate to catch a ship. Unfortunately, a victim of his cruelty – either an accused rebel or an attorney for same recognized the judge. He was captured by a mob at the Town of Ramsgate and narrowly missed being hanged at the top of the Wapping Stairs. He was taken to the Tower of London and died there of kidney failure in 1689.

It is said his ghost can be seen leaving the pub and trying to take the stairs down to the docks to meet the ship he missed, ever looking over his shoulder in search of the angry mob that captured him so long ago.

 

THE COCKPIT

BLACKFRIARS

7 St. Andrew’s Hill

London

As with all tales of gambling and blood sports, it is rumored The Cockpit is visited from time to time by the ghost of a lady who is seen wringing her hands over her lack of money because of her husband’s gambling debts. The story is she made the mistake of following him to The Cockpit to prevent him from placing yet another bet. Unfortunately the man was in serious need of anger management. He supposedly beat her to death in the cellar of the pub or in the alley just outside the cellar doors and went back to the cockfight as if nothing had happened. On dark and quiet nights one is said to be able to hear their final confrontation and to catch the poor lady bemoaning her fate.

 

THE SPANIARDS INN

HAMPSTEAD HEATH                             

Spaniards Road

London

Why yes, there are several associated with the Spaniards. One is cautioned not to walk across the Heath from Kenwood House to the inn, especially at night, as one might be overtaken by Dick Turpin and Black Bess as they race for their favorite safe house. Sometimes, if one stands in front of the inn late at night and listens carefully one will Black Bess’s hoof beats on the road. Some even claim to have seen her in the car park on moonlit nights. Of course, the ghost of Juan Porero, killed by his brother in a duel over a woman and buried in the inn’s garden, is said to haunt the tavern as well. The ghost of a devious local money lender named Black Dick, run down by a coach in the inn yard, is said to tug the sleeves of patrons drinking at the bar. And a woman in a flowing white gown is said to have been seen crossing Hampstead Heath to come to the inn in search of her lover, a highwayman who never arrived for their last assignation.

 

THE GOLDEN LION

ST. JAMES

23 King Street – London

The Golden Lion comes with its own ghost, a barmaid murdered there in the early 19th century is said to prowl the stairs to the theatre bar in search of her murderer.

 

THE RISING SUN                  

CITY OF LONDON

38 Cloth Fair – London

Close to Smithfield Meat Market, The Rising Sun dates back to the early 17th century, when it was originally called the Starre Tavern. Around 200 years later the pub acquired a rather grisly history. This was the time of ‘body-snatching’ when there was a market for fresh bodies for dissection and medical research. Once all the graves had been depleted, to fill the demand for bodies the body-snatchers turned their attention to real-life victims. People began disappearing from local taverns – where they were drugged and then later murdered – and it’s said that two men, John Bishop and Thomas Williams, earmarked innocent drinkers at the Rising Sun and other nearby pubs, perhaps due to their proximity to St Bartholomew’s Hospital. Indeed, the evil pair are said to have sold up to 1000 bodies to anatomists. Little surprise, therefore, that The Rising Sun is no stranger to the supernatural, with employees hearing the sound of running footsteps and feeling ghostly presences. While two employees who lived above the pub have said that a spirit would regularly pull the duvet off their bed, one former landlady felt an icy-cold hand run down her back when she was showering.

 

THE HOOP AND TOY

SOUTH KENSINGTON

34 Thurloe Place

London

The oldest tavern in Kensington, dating back some 500 years. When the nearby tube station was being built, while boring a tunnel, construction workers accidentally unearthed the pub’s cellar which was found to contain the bound bodies of several dead priests. It’s said they woke these souls and since that fateful day, phantom priests have been spotted around the pub, especially on the stairs, which they’re said to be using as an alternative route back to their places of worship.

 

THE FLASK

HIGHGATE

77 Highgate West Hill

London

The Flask dates back to 1663 It also boasts not one but two ghosts: a Spanish barmaid who hanged herself in the pub’s cellar (now a seating area) over unrequited love, and a man in Cavalier uniform who likes to appear in the main bar every now and then. Staff and patrons have reported glasses moving of their own accord, lights swaying without explanation and temperature drops. To add to its grisly past, the pub’s Committee Room is said to have witnessed one of the first ever autopsies, performed during the days of grave-robbing from Highgate Cemetery.

 

THE WORLD’S END

CAMDEN

174 Camden High Street

London

This pub has been a North London landmark for hundred of years. Though there are records of a tavern in the area as early as 1690, it wasn’t until the late 18th century that the Mother Red Cap (as the pub was formerly known) Legend has it that the pub is on the site of a cottage belonging to the witch Old Mother Red Cap (hence its former name). Known to practice black magic, it’s said that when she died, the devil entered her home and never left. Though no apparitions have been seen, shrieks have been heard from down below, though these could also be from the torture chambers and gallows allegedly once located in the basement.

The dark hauntings said to happen in The World’s End can possibly be traced back to a local woman, Jennie Bingham, or as she was known in the area, Mother Red Cap. Mother Red Cap, was a nickname given to a woman for one of two reasons, either as a landlord. Or, it’s more sinister reason, because a woman was a witch. And Jennie Bingham may have been both.

In life, Bingham, whose cottage stood on the site in the 17th century where the club now stands. She was known to live a life very few women would have dared to live especially in those days. She smoked, cursed like a shipwrecked sailor and reportedly had numerous lovers. Bingham, was also suspected of being in league with Lucifer and a poisoner of those she disliked. Back in the 17th century such charges could bring swift justice and the death penalty if proven.

According to legend, when Jennie Bingham was on her deathbed, Satan appeared at her bedside to collect her soul. However, it appears the devil did not get his due, as the troubled soul of Jennie Bingham is believed to haunt The World’s End.

Loud screams and blood curdling shrieks have been heard throughout The World’s End. Loud bangs and footsteps are commonly heard by staff as they open for the day or close at night. The angry wraith of Jennie Bingham has been witnessed by both staff and patrons lurking about the club. She has been known to rush those unfortunate enough to see her and scream curses into their faces.

 

THE TEN BELLS

SPITALFIELDS

Corner of Commercial Street and Fournier Street

London

The Ten Bells was a regular for a handful of Jack the Ripper’s victims before they met their gruesome end, including Annie Chapman, who was murdered after a night drinking in the pub. In an unrelated incident, one of the pub’s Victorian landlords was murdered with an axe and to this day, customers and staff claim to see his ghost wandering the upper floors.

Generally, in England Halloween is not the celebrated holiday it is here in the United States. Of course, as happens all too frequently, it has crept Across the Pond and become more Americanized, but until recently there was simply no need to celebrate things that go bump in the night on one night of the year. Why? Because frankly when it comes to things that go bump in the night, Halloween is rather redundant in the UK. The entire island is a celebration of all things ghostly, ghoulish, and people who simply refuse to go into the light. One can hardly throw a rock without passing through the ghost of a Grey Lady, a White Lady, a Howling Banshee, or a Spectral Monk. However, even with all of this paranormal mayhem, there are certain rules which pertain to whom or what is more likely to be creeping about Mother England long after they might have gone on to the great tea room or pub in the sky.

Thus, we give you…

TEN RULES FOR HAUNTING IN THE UNITED KINGDOM

1. If one is any of Henry VIII’s six wives and one has been born in, died in, grew up in, lived in, slept in, visited, been executed in or near, or even driven or ridden by a building one must haunt said building. Choice of dress color is optional—grey or white is preferred.

 

2. If one is a servant in a particular house and one dies of either lingering disease or preferably some sort of gruesome death over unrequited love, being unjustly accused of theft, or the master (or his son) has got you in a delicate condition one must haunt said house—hanging oneself over and over again is good. Throwing oneself off a tower only to disappear is better. If it is accompanied by a great deal of weeping and moaning it is better still.

 

 

3. If one is a highwayman or other notorious outlaw and one has died at the hands of either the hangman or the militia in a desperate chase and shootout one is condemned to haunt either the place of execution or, even better, one is condemned to ride up and down the stretch of road one frequented or upon which one finally met one’s end. One’s horse is apparently condemned as well. Shouting “Stand and Deliver!” is optional.

 

4. If one met one’s end in a pub or tavern, especially in some sort of tavern brawl or affair of honor, one must stop by said pub periodically. Not for a pint, but to scare the bejeesus out of the current patrons. If one is a tavern maid who was murdered in said establishment, committed suicide in said establishment, got lost on the way home from said establishment, or went walking out with the wrong patron from said establishment then one is condemned to hang around and give the place character as well. One is not allowed to drink whilst haunting, which seems a bit unfair, but those are the rules.

 

5. If one fought (and died, of course) on any of the numerous battlefields in the UK there is always the chance one might be condemned to haunt said battlefield. Loss of limb, or especially loss of one’s head is a certain bet one will be required to hang around said battlefield for eternity looking for one’s missing parts. Sending one’s horse to gallop about unseen in the mist is a possible out. Rattling one’s saber, firing cannons, and shouting “Charge!” are a safe bet.

6. If one was a monk or nun and died in the area of a monastery or abbey, the more gruesome one’s death the more likely one must haunt said monastery or abbey. Murdered by a king or at a king’s behest is guaranteed employment as a ghost for eternity. Especially if one’s death was particularly bloody and took place in said monastery or abbey. However, it is possible, if one was a monk or nun one is simply choosing to haunt said monastery or abbey. Apparently, monks and nuns have a great deal of trouble moving on.

7. If one is the lady of the house, especially a castle or a stately home—the older the better, and one meets an unfortunate end, one might be required to haunt said castle or house. Murdered by a wicked husband, becoming ill after suffering a jilting or loss in love, being stood up at the altar and falling into a fatal decline, committing suicide by leaping from the tower, parapet or a particularly high window—any and all of these will do. Grey or white are the dress colors preferred, although red will do in a pinch. Oh, and if one had a dog of which one was particularly fond, said dog might be condemned to walk the parapets with one. On rare occasion said ghost dog might be heard howling in despair on the anniversary of his mistress’s death.

8. Moors in England are required, I do believe it is by law, to have at least one creature (known origins optional) to haunt said moor and frighten anyone unfortunate enough to venture out onto said moor, especially in the evening or at night. A moor might be haunted by a hound of unusual size and ferocity, a pack of hunting dogs lost by a careless master, a fiery horse (rider optional) lost in the bogs of the moor, Celtish or Roman warriors trapped in the bogs over the centuries, a howling creature of unknown origins or anyone ever lost or body-dumped on the moors by a savvy, but cold-hearted killer.

 

9. Should one be a member of the royal family on one’s death, one is very nearly required to haunt various royal residences. This is especially true if one has suffered a horrible death or one has suffered the loss by terrible or premature death of one’s child or spouse. Should one be a royal murdered by yet another royal for reasons of royal coup or simply a family feud got out of hand, one is far more likely to be compelled to haunt. Crowns, and sometimes even heads, are optional. Oh, and if one is numbered amongst those bad kings or queens, one is simply doomed to haunt, just saying. Apparently dead royals are nearly as bad as monks and nuns about moving on.

10. Dying at Number 50 Berkeley Square apparently guarantees one a spot on the haunting roster. Whether one’s death was horrible, frightening, or merely sad one has no choice but to linger around for eternity and wait one’s turn to disturb the peace of the house. There are so many spirits at this address there must be a ghostly social secretary to keep everyone in order. However, one is guaranteed a deal of privacy as hauntings are only allowed on the fourth floor and, apparently, the police, in typical British fashion have posted a sign in the house forbidding anyone to climb to the fourth floor.

“You say the rooms are haunted? Well, don’t go into those rooms!”

Number 50 is considered the most haunted house in London, but according to those who work at antiquarian booksellers Maggs Bros. Ltd., housed at this address for many years, nothing untoward has ever happened. Then again, they never venture onto the fourth floor. Ever. Would you?

There you have it, a few rules for haunting in the UK. Even with the rules, those of us who love England might not find it too terrible a task to spend eternity there. Some of us would spend our years left with the living haunting England, if funds and time would allow!

The Lives and Deaths of London’s Climbing Boys

Louisa Cornell

Andrea and I decided early on in writing our third series together that we wanted to bring the world of London’s darker side to life for our readers. To do so we had to delve into the very real and horrifying world of London’s East End where poverty, violence, and despair were the bread and butter of the residents of Seven Dials, St. Giles, and White Chapel – the most notorious of the slum areas known as The Rookeries.

The heroes of Bow Street’s Most Wanted – The Four Horsemen are hard men, made so by their cruel and desperate childhoods. As a result they tend to have neither sympathy nor soft spots for no one save perhaps children, children whose circumstances were as desperate as their own had once been. Some of the most used, abused, and desperate of children in this era were those who were apprenticed, sold, or sometimes kidnapped into the service of London’s chimney sweeps.

From the late 16th to the 19th century, chimney cleaning was a vital yet hazardous occupation in Britain. With the increased use of coal as a primary fuel source and the evolution of chimney design to include narrower, more intricate flues, adult sweeps were unable to access certain parts of the chimney for cleaning. Children, some as young as four, were employed to navigate the narrow, winding flues of chimneys, scraping away soot and creosote to prevent fires and maintain airflow.

Small boys, sometimes orphans or boys essentially sold by impoverished families, were employed as climbing boys to clean these inaccessible areas. If they were lucky they were apprenticed to master sweeps who were paid by the parish to teach them the trade. These apprentices tended to be treated better than the orphans or other boys. Climbing girls were also employed, although they were less common.

Very often those that had been sold by their parents had even signed papers securing the master sweeps status as their legal guardians, meaning these young children were tied to their master and their profession until adulthood with no route to escape, except death.

In addition to the dangers of cruel and uncaring masters, the job had a number of inherent risks that came with it. Climbing boys faced numerous perils, including getting stuck in narrow flues, suffocating on soot, suffering burns from hot or even burning chimneys, and falling. Some would have to buff it or climb naked to fit into the tight spaces. Exposure to soot and the physically demanding nature of the job led to a range of health issues, including respiratory problems, eye inflammation, skin sores, deformities, and stunted growth, not to mention burns.

A particularly deadly consequence was chimney sweeps’ carcinoma, or “soot wart,” an aggressive form of scrotal cancer caused by irritation from the carcinogenic substances in coal soot. This was the first occupational cancer ever to be identified, according to The Institute of Cancer Research.

There were variations between buildings, but a standard flue would narrow to around 9 by 9 inches. With such a small amount of movement afforded in such a small space, many of the climbing boys would have to inch their way up using only knees and elbows to force themselves forward.

Many of the chimneys would still be very hot from a fire and some might still be on fire. The skin of the boys would be left stripped and raw from the friction whilst a less dexterous child could possibly have found themselves completely stuck.

The position of a child jammed in a chimney would have often resulted in their knees being locked under their chins with no room to unlock themselves from this contorted position. Some would find themselves stranded for hours whilst the lucky ones could be helped out with a rope. Those less fortunate would simply suffocate and die in the chimney forcing others to remove the bricks in order to dislodge the body. The verdict given by the coroner after the loss of a young life in this fashion was accidental death.

Several acts of Parliament were passed to regulate the trade and restrict child labor in chimney sweeping, starting with the Chimney Sweepers Act of 1788.

In 1788, the Chimney Sweepers Act was enacted to regulate the trade by setting a minimum apprenticeship age of eight and limiting the number of apprentices per master. However, due to inadequate enforcement, these regulations had little impact. Further legislative attempts, including acts in 1834 and 1840, also failed to bring significant change.

The practice was finally outlawed in England in 1875 with the passage of the Chimney Sweepers Act, which was a result of sustained efforts by reformers and sparked by the tragic death of 11-year-old George Brewster, the last recorded fatality of a climbing boy. Brewster became trapped while cleaning a flue at the County Pauper Lunatic Asylum in Fulbourn near Cambridge and did not survive the ordeal. His death spurred renewed public outcry, prompting Lord Shaftesbury to champion the cause. This advocacy culminated in the Chimney Sweepers Act of 1875, which mandated the registration of chimney sweeps and effectively prohibited the employment of children in chimney cleaning. This legislation marked a significant advancement in child labor laws in Britain.

In recognition of the sacrifices made by these young workers, a blue plaque was unveiled on 11 February 2025, commemorating George Brewster’s life and his role in ending the use of child chimney sweeps in England. He is the youngest British person honored with an official blue plaque.

EXCERPT FROM: FAM – LORD OF HUNGER

Their horses began to tire after a few miles. Fam guided Bess into a slow trot as they crossed into the far edges of Mayfair. He continued to check on the child whose breaths had grown shallow and less frequent. The smell of coal and the filthy face led him to believe this limp bag of bones and rags had been used as a climbing boy by some soon-to-be-dead chimney sweep. His blood heated at the thought of what he’d do to the fiend who had used this boy and dumped him like an old stray dog.

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The Horrors of Baby Farming in Nineteenth Century England

Louisa Cornell

One question with which I am certain all authors are familiar is “How do you come up with story ideas?” Those of us who write receive this question from both readers and fellow writers. I will confess I never know when or where a story idea is going to leap out at me. Ideas can come from all sorts of places and some of those places are those I stumble across when I least expect it.

However, when one writes historical romance set in a specific era, like the Regency and early Victorian eras, research is certain to yield some fascinating and sometimes horrifying places from which to derive the basis of a story or even an entire series. Such was the case when Andrea K. Stein and I began to consider ideas for our third series together set in our own version of the Regency world.

Our first series – Steam, Lies, and Forbidden Desires came from the very real practice of pornographers in the era splitting a novel into four sections and selling each section as a separate novel.

 

 

Our second series – Five Pearls for the Earl came from a trip we took with Number One London Tours during which we visited Harewood House and a docent made a casual remark about why an earl’s coronet has five pearls.

 

Our current series – Bow Street’s Most Wanted – The Four Horsemen derived its root premise from a book I read in researching a class I taught on mental illness in the nineteenth century. Amelia Dyer Angel Maker: The Woman Who Murdered Babies for Money by Allison Rattle and Allison Vale. A fascinating read, but not for the faint of heart. Andrea and I considered what sort of children might survive such a horrific upbringing and what sort of men might they become. Thus, The Four Horsemen was born.

So what precisely was a baby farm?

In England in the 19th century unwed mothers and their infants were considered an affront to morality. They were spurned and ostracized both by the public and by relief and charitable institutions. For example in 1836 Muller’s Orphan Asylum in Bristol refused illegitimate children; they accepted only lawfully begotten orphans. The thought was that children conceived in sin would inherit their parents’ lack of moral character and would be a bad influence on legitimate children. Some orphanages accepted children no matter the circumstances of their birth. Others did not.

Young women who became pregnant out of wedlock were forced to leave home in disgrace and move somewhere they were not known. They were often scorned and abandoned by family and left with no resources. If they named the father of their child the parish would demand he pay for the support of the child, but those laws were difficult to enforce and little effort was made to do so.

There were few employment opportunities for single women in this era and the moment their pregnancy became noticeable they were dismissed. Once they gave birth their position became even less tenable as they had no one to tend their child whilst they worked. Thus, they resorted to baby farmers.

Baby farmers, the majority of whom were women, placed ads in newspapers that catered to working class women.

The ads look innocent enough. However, you will notice names are often not listed. Nor are actual specific addresses. No references are given nor offered. One ad suggested a fee of 15 shillings a week to keep an infant or a flat fee of 12 pounds to adopt. The weekly fee was not enough to keep a child, especially a sickly child, and for 12 pounds it was expected the mother would neither see her child again nor ask any questions. Infants under two months were the least likely to survive and the cheapest to bury.

Baby farmers were interested in only one thing. How much money could they squeeze out of the mother and/or father and for how long. A child’s life might hang on how long a mother might be strung along to keep paying. A single woman might not have 12 pounds, but she might be able to secure that amount from the father if he thought the child would disappear forever.

The majority of baby farmers solicited as many infants under the age of two months as they could. These children were the ones whose deaths would appear to be more natural. They would adopt many of these infants for the one time set fee and get rid of them at once. Those they kept were kept drugged on laudanum, paregoric, and other poisons. They were often given milk mixed with lime. The costs of burial was avoided by wrapping the infants’ naked bodies in newspapers and dumping them in dung heaps, deserted areas, or in the Thames.

 

 

Older children whose mothers did their best to pay the weekly fee and demanded to visit their children died longer, more torturous deaths. They died from slow starvation, being fed the bare minimum to keep them alive and lingering. Mothers worked day and night to support these children only to watch them waste away in the care of these supposed nurturing women.

Until 1872 there were no laws to govern baby farmers.

There were even some women who handed their children over to these baby farmers knowing full well that their child’s fate would be death. Unable to murder their own child they allowed the baby farmer to do so. A Mrs. Winsor was eventually arrested for the murder of a four month old infant whose body was found wrapped in newspaper on the side of the road in Torquay and traced back to her. She ran a lucrative business boarding infants for a few shillings a week or putting them away for a flat fee of 3 to 5 pounds. She was sent to prison for the crime.

A Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children was not founded until 1889. The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was founded in 1824, 65 years before this.

The premise for our series is the age old author’s question, What if? What if four boys managed to survive the horrors of being raised on a baby farm? What sort of men would they become and what sort of lives would they lead?

 

 

 

 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DZV4QBLF/