Mrs Finnegan’s Almanac: In Praise of a Fierce Grandfather

I bring to you a grave misjustice which occurred a YEAR ago this month and has only recently come to the piercing searchlight of Mrs Finnegan’s scrutiny. (Others may have heard about it before but I was only told last night.)

Picture the scene at the Petworth Quarter Sessions in West Sussex. (The picture below is of The Old Bailey in London but it must have been something like this.)

It was on a cold, grey January day in1836. A wind was probably blowing outside. It might even have been snowing.

Edward Mills, a man not in the first flush of youth, was sentenced to the House of Correction for six LONG weeks:
AND he had to enter into his own recognizances for £20
AND he was required to find two sureties for £10 each for his good behaviour for two years
AND he had to remain in prison until such recognizance & sureties were made.

For those readers who are not barristers, I should explain that means Edward Mills had to promise to pay £20 if he was brought before the court again for bad behaviour AND he must find two other people willing to promise they will also pay £10 should he misbehave again. This is not SMALL beer. Parting with money like that could shake a family’s finances, send a working man into poverty and a poor man into hunger.

What was Mills? A bad tempered drunk? A tavern brawler, ready for a fight when brandy was taken?

A nasty neighbour spreading vile rumours? A rogue, a reprobate, a radical? Did he spill blood, throw punches or wave knives about?

No! He was a grandfather.

His daughter died leaving seven children. He took two into his home, his son did likewise, but the three youngest were put in the care of Shipley workhouse in Horsham. But care is the WRONG word. When Mr Mills visited his grandchildren he feared for their lives and raised a FIERCE complaint about the conditions they lived in. Soon he was brought before the Horsham Bench and the magistrates were told of jolly well-fed paupers and workhouse larders bulging with beef, beer and bread. So Mills was marked as a troublemaker and his case sent to Petworth where clearly he was not believed again.

I do not know how long Edward Mills stayed in the House of Correction. I do not know if anyone stepped up to stand surety for him. I wish I had heard about it a year ago because I might have ventured £10 on him. I would have at least given it considerable thought, perhaps. It’s possible.

But I DO know that an investigation into the Shipley workhouse some months ago reported that “…there was not a healthy person in the house except the Master and a portion of his family…in three months there were eight DEATHS, mostly from fever…the water supply was not pure…” and there was not much of it.

I wonder where all the grandchildren are now.
Goodness, dear Mr Mills might still be in the House of Correction! If he should be reading this, I can pledge five shillings if that is a help.

Saint of the Week

St John the Almsgiver (or the Good, or the Generous, or the Almoner)
Patriarch of Alexandria, Egypt. Feast Day January 23rd

This 7th century saint is rather unusual. He died in his bed (which I much prefer to martyrdom) and was married with children. He only entered the religious life after they died.
He became a bishop while still a layman (no idea how that was possible, so don’t ask) and put a stop to corruption while also giving sanctuary to refugees. He also freed the enslaved, refused to persecute Christians who didn’t have the same beliefs as official Church dogma and used his wealth to relieve poverty, calling the poor his Lords and Masters.

A real saint you might think, but the following story is the one that makes it a copper-bottomed certainty:

Once on his way to church he met a destitute widow woman who began to tell him her troubles at great length. The people accompanying him grew tired and urged him to hurry on to the church, for the service. They said he could listen to woman’s story later. John said: “And how will God listen to me, if I don’t listen to her?” The saint allowed the poor woman to tell her whole story.

We are used to saints feeding the hungry and getting involved in general good works but listening to the boring marks St John as a very special man.

Improve your Vocabulary One Word at a Time

Today I mourn the words we neglect and suggest we revive them through CONSTANT use.
We have despair but somehow FORGET about respair. It means fresh hope which is what we all NEED in the first month of the new year.
I stand before you a gormful, sipid woman who is GRUNTLED with her circumstances (mostly). Join me in using these words on all POSSIBLE occasions lest we lose them altogether. What a sad world it would be if humans could be RUTHLESS but never overflowing with RUTH…

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