A half-hour- long Tuesday Twopenny Terrible Minisode IN WHICH —
0:02:40: BLACK BESS (Dick Turpin's adventures), Ch. 16:
- In which: Highwayman Dick Turpin is in a bit of a tight spot. He’s slipped away from the highway and hid in the darkness of a hedgerow, turning the stolen horse loose with a slap on the rump. But the grabs are closing in, until … wait, is that the spectre horseman again? He looks just like Dick, he’s dressed just like Dick … Who is he? Is he really a spectre? Can’t be, the cops sure can see him, and they’re racing away after him … will he lead them away from Dick? We shall see.
0:22:40: THE BALLAD OF BET BLOWSY:
- An especially spicy supper-club song, regularly sung at Offley's Burton Ale Rooms in the early 1830s, about a waterfront prostitute and her disappointed would-be customer. This song may actually be the earliest reference to a "shart" in English-language history (it probably isn't, though).
0:25:40: TERRIFIC REGISTER, pg. 29:
- "A Broken Heart." This article references the execution of Jemmy Dawson, a participant in the Jacobite Uprising of 1745, and the grief of his pretty fiancee upon his execution for treason. Includes a reading of William Shenstone's ballad written on the case.
PLUS —
- A miscellany of flash-cant words and other tidbits of late-Regency and early-Victorian life!
Join host Finn J.D. John. for a half-hour-long spree through the scandal-sheets and story papers of old London! Grab a flicker of blue ruin, unload your stumps, and let's go!
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:09):
A tip top evening to all you bloods, bucks, choice spirits
and nights of the brush and moon.
I'm your host, Finn JD John, welcoming you back to the
Chafing Crib. It's another Tuesday night on
the Penny Dreadful variety hour show and time for the Tuesday
Tupani Terrible Demi Hour. If you don't mind a bit of
(00:29):
salaciousness and cheek, stick around after we finish Chapter
16 of The Adventures of Highwayman Dick Turpin.
We don't do outright porno, and yes, there was lots of that in
the Victorian age of dreadfully low quality, but some of the
supper club and drinking saloon songs that we get into on
Tuesdays can get spicy enough torequire an explicit tag.
(00:51):
For instance, the one I've got queued up for today.
It's a work night in IT, so maybe go easy on the Blue Ruin
tonight. Maybe pour yourself 1/2 a pint
of Strike Me Dead or a Little Flicker to take the chill off.
Or to be on the safe side, stickwith Cat lap and Scandal broth.
Then sit back and smile. A booster shot dose of penny
dreadful goodness is coming yourway right now.
(01:13):
Real quick, let me translate my flash patter from the intro.
Bucks Bloods and Choice Spirits is a slightly sarcastic
reference to rampaging young people.
Dollar Store Lord and Lady Barrymore's if you will, strike
me dead as small beer. Small is in small alcohol
content. A flicker is a glass cat lap and
scandal broth. Both are terms for tea.
Moving on, here's what we've gotin store for tonight.
(01:37):
First, of course, we will hear today's terrible tidbit from
Dickens Dreadful Almanac. Then it's on to Chapter 16 of
Black Bess or The Night of the Road starring Highland and Dick
Turpin by Edward Viles, which started publication in 1861.
In it, Dick Turpin is in a bit of a tight spot.
He slipped away from the highwayand hid in the darkness of a
(01:58):
hedgerow, turning the stolen horse loose with a slap on the
rump. But the grabs are closing in
until wait. Is that the Spectre Horseman
again? He looks just like Dick.
He's dressed just like Dick. Who is he?
Is he really a specter? Can't be.
The cops can see him and they'reracing away after him.
Will he lead them away from Dick?
Is he therefore a friend? We'll see, just not yet.
(02:20):
It's going to be a couple chapters, then we'll dive right
into the PG13 portion of the show with a song or two of the
many collections of drinking, thieving, and let's say sinning
songs with which our favorite historical period abounded.
And finally, we will have something from a comedy magazine
or joke book to lighten the mood.
So yeah, let's get to it. And now tis time for Chapter 16
(02:46):
of Black Bess, or The Night of the Road.
Last week in Chapter 15, Sir Theodore Houghton, the corrupt
magistrate, was hanged from the rafters of the thieves house.
Just as he dropped, a large party of policemen burst into
the room. They went straight to Turpin and
seized him. A wild scuffle ensued, in the
course of which Turpin managed to get to the door and seeing
(03:07):
the front door guarded by 4 cops, dashed up the stairs to
the bedrooms, picking one at random.
He entered, went to the window, found there was a roof he could
climb out on, and so he did, butalready the cops were coming out
the window after him. He set out running.
The cops gave tongue as they chased, shouting.
A Highwayman £1000 Reward which of.
Course got their posse numbers augmented considerably by random
(03:30):
penurious neighbors. Finally, Dick reached a street
he recognized. He ducked down it, made a few
turns and lost his pursuers in the maze of alleys.
Emerging again onto Oxford Road,he came across a groom holding a
horse, obviously waiting for itsrider to return.
So Dick bowled him over, jumped on the horse and hit the road
hard just as half a dozen policemen rounded the corner,
(03:52):
also on horses. They'd stopped a delivery stable
to get mounts. A lively chase now ensued, and
at the end of the chapter Dick was still on the run, barely
keeping ahead of the mounted grabs, and his stolen horse was
noticeably tiring, and the curtain fell with Dick on the
road a mile or so ahead, but still in full view of his
pursuers. Would he give them the slip?
(04:13):
We'll find out today. Chapter 16.
Dick is a witness to a very singular scene in the old
country church. Thick black clouds had hitherto
wholly hidden the moon's face, but now, through a large
straggling rift, she looked downupon the earth.
(04:36):
Confound it, said Turpin, as thebright rays fell upon his
countenance. I could have done very well
without any more light. Now they will be able to see me
a mile off. The road was very straight
indeed. It must have been remarked by
many what a great distance it goes without making a bend
either to the right or the left.So there was little or no
(04:57):
exaggeration in Turpin's words when he said the officers would
be able to see him a mile off. I must get out of this, that's
certain, he added. Let me see a little farther on.
I shall come to what I call the Dark Lane, for want of a better
name, and down that I will take my way.
Ah, here it is. Even while he spoke, Turpin
found that he had arrived opposite the entrance to the
(05:19):
lane, and he turned down it likea shot, disappearing from the
gaze of the officers with a suddenness that must have
appeared to them almost magical.Turpin had very appropriately
designated this lane by the adjective dark, for the trees on
both sides grew to such a great height and so very thickly
together, that scarcely a ray oflight of any description
(05:39):
penetrated through them, and it seemed more like riding into a
cave than aught else. Turpin dashed onward without
suffering his horse to relax at speed in the least a few
minutes, when a horses at full gallop will carry the rider over
a great deal of ground. And so in a very short time
Turpin emerged from this lane into the High Road again.
(05:59):
He could not see them, but he could hear the clatter of his
pursuers footsteps. Now for it, said Turpin, I can't
get clear by riding, so I will give them the slip.
Ah, now that will do. First rate capital.
He flung himself off his horse as he spoke.
He took the reins and tucked them tightly under the front of
the saddle, and then with the palm of his hand struck the
(06:20):
horse's smart blow on the flank which caused the high metalled
creature to gallop swiftly alongthe road.
Turpin passed over to the other side and crawled through a gap
in the hedge. He found himself in a Meadow on
the West side of which, over another hedge, was an old
country church. A loud shout, and apparently of
gratification, let him know thatthe officers had reached the
(06:40):
road. What can they be so pleased
about, I wonder? Asked Turpin.
I will take a peep through the hedge.
He did so, and was so astonishedby what he saw that he almost
betrayed his place of concealment by an exclamation.
The officers were standing in a throng near the end of the lane,
looking attentively at something.
Turpin followed the direction oftheir eyes, and saw for the
(07:03):
second time that spectral resemblance to himself.
The officer saw it too, so it was clear that there was no
delusion about the matter, or rather, if there was, they were
subject to it as well as himself.
The figure was standing in the middle of the highway, at about
half a mile distant, looking back over his shoulder at the
officers, and seemingly in such an attitude as to be able to
(07:25):
start so soon as any symptom of motion showed itself upon their
part. Turpin was bewildered, and he
looked first from the officers and then to his second self.
What a what can it be? He asked.
What am I to think of this strange assumption of my own
form? It would be perfect madness, or
I would, as I am resolved, rush forward and solve this mystery.
(07:46):
Now I am compelled to inaction by mutual consent.
Both parties seem to have come to a halt for the purpose of
resting their steeds, and so long as that distance was
preserved between them, neither could obtain the advantage of
the other. Turpin was full of curiosity and
wonder to know what would happennext.
Suddenly the chief of the policeuttered a few words to his
(08:08):
companions, and then the whole of the troop, clapping spurs to
their horses, sides, speed quickly down the lane.
The spectre horseman, and whom they no doubt believe was Turpin
himself, was not apparently at all disconcerted at this
proceeding on the part of the officers, for he too gave the
reins to his horse, and set off at full speed.
The officers gave a loud shout as they commenced an immediate
(08:30):
pursuit. This grows stranger and more and
more incomprehensible, said Turpin, as he arose from his
recumbent position in the Meadow.
Who can this mysterious being be, who so closely resembles my
form and dress? For that it is anything
supernatural I resolutely disbelieve, and will do.
Yet the whole affair is most perplexing and mysterious.
(08:52):
It is quite evident, though, that the officers are laboring
under the impression that it is me.
So far it is very good, since I have an opportunity of escape
which I should not have had under other circumstances.
Until, however, I find it out, Iam quite certain I shall know no
peace. I feel exceedingly desirous to
know how this chase is getting on, and whether they have caught
(09:12):
my double. Is there a tree anywhere I can
climb? No, He looked all around him as
he spoke. But no tree of any magnitude, or
from which anything like of you could be obtained, was insight.
Stop now, he added, as his eye fell upon the old church to
which we have alluded. Stop now.
That church seems to have a tolerably high Spire.
Now if I could only get up that I could see for miles around
(09:35):
first rate. No sooner did this thought enter
his mind, then he hastened across the Meadow to put it into
execution. He soon reached the hedge which
he surmounted, and then rolled down a grassy bank into a very
narrow but picturesque looking lane.
He was on his feet in a moment. Who'd have thought?
Now he said that I was going to miss my footing in that manner.
(09:55):
Never mind, it's all right, I suppose.
This narrow path leads to the church.
Turpin was right enough in this supposition, and a few minutes
later he reached the entrance tothe graveyard.
As is often the case in country places, there was a right of Rd.
through the churchyard, so Turpin had no other trouble in
entering than that of pushing through a turnstile.
(10:15):
He hurried up the broad, smooth gravel path, and descending a
short flight of stone steps, stood beneath the porch.
A door was facing him, which he naturally enough supposed let
him to the church, and there wasanother on his right, which was
beyond a doubt the one he wanted, namely, that leading to
the belfry. The almost full moon lent him
sufficient light to make an examination of the door.
(10:38):
It was fastened, but that was a circumstance of no importance,
for it creaked open in a moment under the application of
Turpin's finger. The blackness and silence of the
tomb were before him. Dimly, though, he could see by
the faint light that straggled into the place, a circular
flight of steps. He pulled the door after him,
and as it dragged a little on its hinge, as it remained close
(11:00):
shut, and two have looked at it from the other side, no one
would have dreamed it had been forcibly broken open.
There were loopholes in the stonework on the staircase at
regular intervals, and through these the moon's rays shone with
an exceedingly beautiful effect.Dick peeped through one or two
of these on his way up the stairs, but the view through so
narrow an aperture was too circumscribed for his purpose.
(11:22):
In less time than would have been believed, considering the
strangeness and darkness of the place, Turpin reached the top of
the steps, and, withdrawing a large rusty bolt, pushed open a
trap door just over his head, after passing through which he
found himself standing on the square leaden roof of the church
tower. The beautiful prospect of many a
mile of moonlit country would have been quite sufficient to
(11:44):
recompense anyone for the trouble of the ascent, and Dick
looked around him with deep pleasure.
The perfect silence and repose that everywhere prevailed lent
to a great charm to the scene. Dick scanned the whole of the
horizon with his keen eyes, but no traces either of pursuer or
pursued were visible. The broad, High Road could be
defined with great distinctness as it wound around as sinuously
(12:08):
as a river, and as the earth in it was of a whitish color, it
looked like a band of silver winding among the bright green
trees. Turpin made a lengthened
examination of all the landscape, but still being
unable to see what he saw, it prepared to descend again.
Yet he lingered upon the roof tower of the old church.
He knew not why he did so, unless it was the extreme beauty
(12:29):
of the scene, to which no words of ours could do adequate
justice. Presently there came upon his
ears a faint muffled sound, and placing one hand upon the stone
battlement, he leaned forward inorder to hear the sound better.
It gradually increased in loudness.
Horsemen, said Turpin, that's certain, and going at a
tremendous pace, too. It must be the officers.
(12:52):
Surely they will be insight directly The faint muffled sound
grew plainer and plainer until the chattering of horses hoofs
could be heard just over the tall edge rose, but at a
considerable distance Dick couldsee a number of riders hats
gliding rapidly along. There they are, exclaimed Dick,
greatly excited. Why, they are coming back.
Have they caught him, I wonder, and made him a prisoner?
(13:14):
The horseman had now within a short distance reached a bend in
the road, turning, after which they would be in full sight of
Dick. It won't do to stand up like
this, he said, for some officious person are just sure
to see me. I must be quite a conspicuous
object up here. There was in reality no ground
for apprehension, for Dick, whenhe spoke, quite forgot the
height to which he had ascended.Still he crouched down low upon
(13:38):
the roof, and peeped over the stone work anxiously.
He found his view was not in theleast impeded, and he had the
gratification of seeing a horseman sweep around the corner
and come at a rapid pace along the road.
Although he was quite prepared, Dick could not help feeling a
little agitated when this horseman came insight.
His resemblance to himself was perfect.
He came along the road at a rapid pace.
(14:00):
In another moment the officers came around the bend, and
catching sight of the flying horseman with many
gesticulations, urged forward bywhip and spur, their almost
exhausted cattle, the interest with which Dick regarded them
was most intense. I can't understand, he muttered.
How can they have turned back and preserved the same position
unless my impersonator has ridden bodily through them?
(14:22):
And I should hardly think he would be foolhardy enough to do
that. It is a thing I should think
twice about before I did it. He lost sight of them all at
this juncture, just as the road took another sudden turn.
But he knew that in a moment or two they must reach that part of
it which passed by the church, and which for a distance of half
a mile or more each way was in nearly a straight line, while
(14:42):
from his elevated position he would be able to see over the
hedgerows on each side of the lane.
Dick's double, for so in his mind he called him, very quickly
made his appearance. He is gaining on them, said
Turpin, a tone of satisfaction in spite of himself tinging in
his voice. He will soon distance them
completely. The officers now came in view.
(15:03):
Their horses seemed all but knocked up.
It was a most exciting race to Turpin, and he watched it with
as much interest as folks do theDerby when they have some very
heavy bets depending on the issue of it.
He forgot all about the caution which had induced him to Crouch
down behind the coping, but roseto his feet and waved his arms,
almost uttering a shout. In his excitement he became
(15:24):
conscious of the risk he had runby seeing one of the officers in
the road below turn and point tothe tower.
Turpin dropped down like a shot.Still he ventured to look over.
The man was evidently from his manner, saying something very
earnestly to his companions. Confound the fellow, said
Turpin, as he looked at him. I wonder now whether he saw me.
(15:45):
What a fool I must have been to stood up in that absurd fashion.
It would appear that what the officer said was simply relative
to the edifice itself, for the whole of them turned round in
their saddles and gazed at it, but they did not slacken speed
while doing so. 5 minutes more and they were out of sight.
Turpin turned away. I can't make it out, he said, as
(16:06):
he felt his way down the steps. Can make it out at all?
Who can this man be who bears soremarkable A resemblance to
myself, and dresses so much the same?
I must wait patiently. I suppose the mystery will be
cleared up someday. I must unquestionably have been
he I saw when mounted in the lane.
Only my excited fancy just then magnified him into a specter.
(16:27):
This was a very probable supposition, but whether it was
a correct one time only can determine.
Turpin grouped his way down the belfry stairs and reached the
bottom in what seemed to him to be an incredibly short time.
However, there, by the faint light of the moon through a
loophole above, he could see thedoor plainly enough.
He pushed it open. Instead, however, of passing
(16:49):
into the porch, as he expected, he found this door opened into
the gallery of the church. The interior, in contrast with
the dark belfry staircase, was quite bathed in light, and a
vague, undefined feeling of curiosity caused Turpent to pass
through this door. And after walking to the edge of
the gallery, he sat down upon one of the front seats and
looked below him. He happened to be facing the
(17:11):
large stained glass window over the altar, and through this the
moon's rays streamed with full force, lighting up all the body
of the church, and leaving the remainder in deep shadow.
Scarcely even in the many sceneswhich he, in the course of a
long career, had met with, had he found one so imposing as
this. A rapt repose, such as can exist
(17:32):
only in a sacred edifice, everywhere prevailed, and
unconsciously and despite himself, strange and solemn
feelings filled his breast, feelings of whose existence he
had hitherto been in ignorance. It might be that he sat 5
minutes or even 10, leaning his head upon his hands and his
elbow upon the railing of the gallery, with his eyes fixed
(17:52):
upon the beautiful stained window, and his mind abstracted
from all things present, when a slight rattling sound made
itself heard and immediately recalled his energies.
The rattling noise continued, and he listened in a vain
endeavor to make out what it wasin that old silent church.
It came upon the hearing clearly, though probably
elsewhere it would have been unnoticed.
(18:14):
Although somewhat startled by the circumstance, Dick retained
sufficient presence of mind to remain perfectly still.
In another instant he heard a sharp click, which was followed
by a grating noise. Then he heard a voice.
Confound the old door. Said someone.
What a trouble I had to open it to be sure I must have that key
(18:35):
or seen to tomorrow, kept jumping about in a very improper
manner. It must be bewitched.
However, I knew it would have yielded to me in the end.
Me Solomon Gogs, as there has been beetle and sex in here a
matter of 40 years. That's why I had patience.
I knew very well when it kept. Bobbing about so and if I took
(18:59):
a. Careful aim, the key would sure
go. In, and so it did.
Hold up. The speaker blundered against
something in his path. The words, however, which he had
uttered made things quite intelligible to Turpin.
It was the rattling of the key in the lock that had disturbed
the high women's ruminations, and the thick tones in which the
(19:19):
old man had spoken, and who had named himself Solomon Goggs,
proclaimed pretty loudly that hewas some distance gone in
intoxication. What was his motive for paying
the church a visit? It's so unusual.
An hour he had yet to learn. So Turpin remained quite quiet,
and listened for him to speak again.
As he fully anticipated, he had not long to wait, for Mr.
(19:40):
Solomon Gog's Beadle and Sexton had reached that point in his
potations at which extreme loquaciousness began.
Oh, I see. No, it's one of the Beninis and
belonging to the free seats. Confound the free seats, there
are no business. To be such things in but.
Church leastways of all downstairs.
(20:02):
To be sure very close to the door I should like to know who
it was pulled the bench out someof the low minded marbocracy
sort of people as just like very.
Imperants make a me brick my shins again it.
Come up, will you? The last words apparently were
addressed to the bench against which he had stumbled, and which
(20:24):
might be supposed to have been somewhat refractory, for the
words were followed by a rumbling, creaking sound which
echoed and re echoed through thebuilding.
That's right at last. What?
The night of adventures, To be sure, it's infernal disagreeable
life. I come here infernally
disagreeable. I am well paid, though, so I
(20:47):
ought not to grumble. Still, I am always aggravitated
when I have to leave em pleasantcompany at the well of content.
The sooner this job's over for better, and then I shall stand a
chance of getting. Back again before they have.
All gone. Thus speaking, the old man, in a
devious, uncertain kind of way, made his way along the Isle of
(21:09):
the Church. Well, this is looking like it's
going to be great fun. I guess I could have done
without the whole. Dick forgot himself and started
waving his arms from the top of the Spire bit, since it went
absolutely nowhere and served only to make our hero look like
a temporary idiot. But, well, the demands of word
(21:30):
count for a publication like this are pretty relentless.
Most likely our author had to come up with some business to
pan the story out a little. Although actually, the attention
being paid to the church is going to be significant in the
next chapter, methinks. Speaking of the next chapter, in
it, Dick withdraws into the shadows to watch the beetle
Solomon Gogs preparing the church for what looks like it's
(21:51):
going to be a midnight clandestine wedding.
And as we'll see, that's exactlywhat's intended.
We'll soon find out who is marrying whom by dark of night,
one of them eager and the other extremely reluctant.
But if you'd like to learn a little bit more about the actual
historical context of this chapter, because it depicts an
event that actually occurred in history.
(22:13):
So do yourself the favor of looking up Elizabeth Pierre Pont
on Wikipedia. We don't do homework assignments
on the Penny Dreadful Hour, of course.
But let's just say that if you know the history of Elizabeth
Chudle Hervey Pierre Pont, Duchess of Kingston, and her
husband, the Earl of Bristol, and her other husband the Duke
of Kingston upon Hall, the next chapter of this dreadful will be
(22:34):
considerably more meaningful foryou.
All right. Now, if you're just here for the
Penny Dreadful, that's all we'vegot today.
This Tupany Terrible Tuesday episode of the Penny Dreadful
Variety Hour continues, and whatwe have done is we've moved the
most salacious parts of our show, the naughty bits if you
will, to Tupany Terrible Tuesdays.
(22:56):
So if you're interested in the body drinking songs, risque
anecdotes, and dirty jokes, stick around.
First, let's visit the poetry ofthe age via one of the great old
informal evening song books. And in keeping with the spirit
of Tupan Terrible Tuesday, I'm going to start us off with a
pretty spicy one for today's salacious Supper Club song.
(23:24):
I've picked one that's actually spicy enough to require me to
put an explicit tag on this episode.
Although surely not the worst you've heard, it is a bit
naughty and also a little scatologically enhanced.
Let's say what it's not is sexy.Sorry, it's just not.
But enough palaver. Let's hear it.
This is a fairly short song, andit's taken from The
(23:46):
Convivialist, an extensive collection of humorous flash and
love songs published circa 1833 by Jay Duncan of Holburn.
Bette Blozy, by the way, Blozy is a slang term for a prostitute
of kind of low degree subtitle. A fancy song as sung at
Awfully's Burton Ale Rooms tune.I'll tell my mommy when I get
(24:10):
home. Here it goes.
Jack called on Bette Blozy, a buxom young whore, not thinking,
as some do, such pleasures as sin.
The night was pitch dark, loud. He knocked at the door,
beseeching dear Bessie to let him.
Soon in to the window she came loudly bawling.
Be quiet, then whispered. You can't Jack this night's
(24:31):
sleep with me. Be off, you blackguard.
Do not kick up a riot. My husband, Tom Blozy has just
come from the sea. Poor Jack's heart at this,
filled with sorrow and woe. One kiss he demanded before.
Off he sheared to this bet, consented if then he would go,
And afterwards homeward in quietness steered like a cat in
(24:51):
a moment to the window he went, from which Beth had stuck out
her fat hinder part, not thinking there was for him any
trick meant. He kissed it, and she let a
glorious fart. Editor's NOTE.
Fart and whore have been represented here by, well, F-T.
But it's quite clear what the word was supposed to be, so I
just went ahead and read it backto our song.
(25:14):
As if he'd been shot In an instant, he fell and bawled.
Were I with you are ribs would Ilace?
I wish by my soul you were floating in hell, you damned
dirty bitch you spit down in my face.
Editor's Note The word bitch wasactually considerably more
offensive in the Victorian period than it is today.
You rarely see it in these. Horror wasn't considered so bad.
(25:37):
And that's the end of this one. In today's terrific Register
article, we are delving into some Old English history from
the Jacobite uprising in 1745, the last attempts by the Stuarts
to reclaim the throne of Englandfrom the royal House of Hanover.
The full story of the Jacobite Uprising of 1745 is more than I
(25:59):
want to get into here, but if you're not familiar with it, it
will more than repay the half hour or so it takes to read all
about it on Wikipedia. But the article focuses on one
episode from the Jacobite uprising, the involvement of a
young man named Jimmy Dawson whorallied to the Jacobite colors
when the Stewart army invaded England with its Scottish allies
and was caught and hanged for treason.
(26:21):
Here we go, The Broken Heart, Shen Stone's pathetic and
defecting ballad of Jimmy Dawson, has drawn tears from
every person of sensibility or possessing the feelings of
humanity, and it will continue to be admired as long as the
English language shall exist. This ballad, which is founded in
truth, was taken from a narrative first published in The
(26:42):
Parrot in the 2nd of August, 1746, three days after the
transaction It records. It is given in the form of a
letter, and is as follows. A young lady of good family and
handsome fortune, had for some time extremely loved, and was
equally loved by Mr. James Dawson, one of those unhappy
gentlemen who suffered on Wednesday last at Kennington
(27:04):
Common for high treason, and hadhe either been acquitted or have
found the royal mercy after condemnation, the day of his
enlargement was to have been that of their marriage.
I will not prolong the narrativeby repetition of what she
suffered on sentence being passed on him.
None, excepting those utterly incapable of feeling any softer
(27:25):
generous emotions, but may easily conceive her agonies.
Besides, the sad catastrophe will convince you of their
sincerity. Not all of the persuasions of
her kindred could prevent her from going to the place of
execution. She was determined to see the
last of a person so dear to her,and accordingly followed the
sledges in a Hackney coach, accompanied by a gentleman
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nearly related to her, and one female friend.
She got near enough to see the fire kindled which was to
consume that heart which she knew was so much devoted to her,
and all the other dreadful preparations for his fate,
without betraying any of those emotions her friends
apprehended. But when all was over, and she
found he was no more, she threw her head back onto the couch and
(28:09):
ejaculating. My dear, I follow Thee, I follow
thee, Lord Jesus, receive both our souls together.
Fell on the neck of her companion, and expired at the
very moment she had done speaking.
That excessive grief which the force of her resolution had kept
smothered within her breast, is thought to have put a stop to
the vital motion, and suffocatedat once all the animal spirits
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in the Whitehall. Evening Post, August 7th.
This narrative is copied with this remark, that, upon inquiry,
every circumstance was literallytrue.
A ballad was cried about the streets at the time, founded on
this melancholy narrative, but it can scarcely be said to have
aided Shenstone in his beautifulproduction.
That's the end of the article from the terrific Register.
(28:54):
Now the ballad the article referred to as Jimmy Dawson by
William Shenstone, and it was pinned in 1746, shortly after
the execution. I have been unable to track down
the broadsheet St. ballad that someone wrote.
It may be out there somewhere, but most likely it's lost.
There were thousands of these little broadsheets printed and
sold on the streets throughout the century, and no one ever
(29:15):
thought to save them for posterity.
But here is Shenstone's ballad on the topic.
Come listen to my mournful tale,you tender hearts and lovers,
dear. Nor will you scorn to heave a
sign, Or need you blush to shed a tear.
And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, do thou A pensive ear
incline, For thou canst weep at every woe, and pity every plaint
(29:38):
but mine. EDITOR'S NOTE.
I just can't resist budding in here to laugh at this verse.
The poet trying to guilt trip his share a me into sleeping
with him is such a trope in the high end poetry of this period.
It does seem a little weird herethough, at least to modern
years, but yet to continue. Young Dawson was a gallant boy,
a writer never trod the plain and will.
(30:00):
He loved one charming maid and dearly was he loved to gain 1
tender maid. She loved him dear.
Of gentle blood the damsel came,And faultless was her beauteous
form, And spotless was her virgin fame.
But curse on party's hateful strife That led the favored
youth astray. The day the rebel clans
appeared, Oh, had he never seen that day.
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Their colors and their sash he wore, And in that fatal dress
was found. And now he must that death
endure Which gives the brave thekeenest wound.
How pale was then his true Love's cheek when Jemmy's
sentence reached her ear, For never yet did Alpine snows, so
pale, nor yet so chill, appear. With faltering voice she weeping
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said Who, Dawson, monarch of my heart, think not.
Thy death shall end our loves, for thou and I will never part.
Yet might sweet mercy find a place and bring relief to
Jemmy's woes. Oh, George, without a prayer for
thee my orisons should never close.
The gracious Prince that gave him life would crown a never
dying flame, And every tender babe I bore should learn to lisp
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the giver's name. But though he should be dragged
and scorned to Yonder ignominious tree, he shall not
want one constant friend to share the cruel fate's decree.
Oh, then her mourning coach was called.
The sledge moved slowly on. Before, though born in a
triumphal car, she had not lovedher favorite more.
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She followed him, prepared to view the terrible behests of law
and the last scene of Jemmy's woes.
With calm and steadfast eyes. She saw distorted was that
blooming face which she had fondly loved so long, and
stifled was that tuneful breath which in her praise had sweetly
sung, and severed was that beauteous neck round which her
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arms had fondly closed, and mangled was that beauteous
breast on which her lovesick head reposed.
And ravished was that constant heart she did to every heart
prefer. For though it could its king
forget, Twas true and loyal still to her Amid those
unrelenting flames she bore thisconstant heart to see but one
Twas mouldered into dust, yet yet she cried.
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I follow thee, my death, My death alone can show the pure,
The lasting love I bore. Except, O heaven, of woes like
ours, and let us, let us weep nomore.
The dismal scene was o'er and past.
The lover's mournful hearse retired.
The maid drew back her languid head, And sighing forth, his
name expired. Though justice ever must
(32:29):
prevail, The tear my Kitty shedsis due.
For seldom shall she hear a taleso sad, so tender, yet so true.
Well, there it is now you know the ballad of Jimmy Dawson.
Maybe it's a timely warning for us colonials not to take
politics, and especially politicians, too seriously.
We live in an age in which it's awfully easy for young folks to
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get radicalized and run out there and do or say something
they hopefully will live to regret.
Clue, sashage, Clue. Salem M Shows All right, well
that wraps up this Tubany terrible Tuesday episode of the
Penny Dreadful Variety Show. I hope that you will join me
again in a couple of days from now for the Hate Benny Horrid
(33:13):
Hers Day half hour mini sod of the Penny Dreadful Variety Show.
The Hate Benny Horrid Hers Day show is dedicated to all things
horrid, as in horror. We won't be doing a dreadful
chapter this Thursday. Instead, we've got a couple
really gnarly true crime storiesfrom The Terrific Register,
along with some other miscellaneous early Victorian
grim dark fair. If you're just here for the
(33:36):
Penny Dreadful chapter readings,you might choose to skip over
Thursday's show and go straight to next Sunday's full episode
featuring Chapter 5 of Rose Mortimer or the ballet Girl's
revenge in Chapter 5 of The Mysteries of London by George WM
Reynolds. Both upcoming shows will be
coming your way at Dick Turpin Scragging Hour, 5:37 PM.
(33:57):
That's 1737 Military time this Thursday and Sunday evening
both. Our theme music is a version of
Golden Slippers, A minstrel showsong written by James A Bland in
1879. This version is by Seattle Old
Time band $4.00 Shoe. For more of their music, just
Google $4.00 Shoe. It'll pop right up.
(34:18):
No matter how you spell it, they're almost as good at search
engine optimization as they are at Old Time Music.
The Penny Dreadful Variety Hour is a creation of Pulp Lit
Productions. For more details, see
pulp-lit.com. And to get in touch with me, hit
me up at finn@pulp-lit.com. Thanks again for joining me,
Manab's. It's time now for us to Sherry
(34:38):
off and rest up for another day on the Everlasting staircase for
the Penny Dreadful variety Show.I'm Finn, JD John signing off.
And now fair forth and fill up the rest of the week with tip
top stuff. Bye now.
Oh yeah, the everlasting staircase is the treadmill at
Brixton Prison. And Sherry off just means run
off. OK, this time I mean it.
(34:59):
Bye now.
A tip top evening to all you bloods, bucks, choice spirits
and nights of the brush and moon.
I'm your host, Finn JD John, welcoming you back to the
Chafing Crib. It's another Tuesday night on
the Penny Dreadful variety hour show and time for the Tuesday
Tupani Terrible Demi Hour. If you don't mind a bit of
(00:29):
salaciousness and cheek, stick around after we finish Chapter
16 of The Adventures of Highwayman Dick Turpin.
We don't do outright porno, and yes, there was lots of that in
the Victorian age of dreadfully low quality, but some of the
supper club and drinking saloon songs that we get into on
Tuesdays can get spicy enough torequire an explicit tag.
(00:51):
For instance, the one I've got queued up for today.
It's a work night in IT, so maybe go easy on the Blue Ruin
tonight. Maybe pour yourself 1/2 a pint
of Strike Me Dead or a Little Flicker to take the chill off.
Or to be on the safe side, stickwith Cat lap and Scandal broth.
Then sit back and smile. A booster shot dose of penny
dreadful goodness is coming yourway right now.
(01:13):
Real quick, let me translate my flash patter from the intro.
Bucks Bloods and Choice Spirits is a slightly sarcastic
reference to rampaging young people.
Dollar Store Lord and Lady Barrymore's if you will, strike
me dead as small beer. Small is in small alcohol
content. A flicker is a glass cat lap and
scandal broth. Both are terms for tea.
Moving on, here's what we've gotin store for tonight.
(01:37):
First, of course, we will hear today's terrible tidbit from
Dickens Dreadful Almanac. Then it's on to Chapter 16 of
Black Bess or The Night of the Road starring Highland and Dick
Turpin by Edward Viles, which started publication in 1861.
In it, Dick Turpin is in a bit of a tight spot.
He slipped away from the highwayand hid in the darkness of a
(01:58):
hedgerow, turning the stolen horse loose with a slap on the
rump. But the grabs are closing in
until wait. Is that the Spectre Horseman
again? He looks just like Dick.
He's dressed just like Dick. Who is he?
Is he really a specter? Can't be.
The cops can see him and they'reracing away after him.
Will he lead them away from Dick?
Is he therefore a friend? We'll see, just not yet.
(02:20):
It's going to be a couple chapters, then we'll dive right
into the PG13 portion of the show with a song or two of the
many collections of drinking, thieving, and let's say sinning
songs with which our favorite historical period abounded.
And finally, we will have something from a comedy magazine
or joke book to lighten the mood.
So yeah, let's get to it. And now tis time for Chapter 16
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of Black Bess, or The Night of the Road.
Last week in Chapter 15, Sir Theodore Houghton, the corrupt
magistrate, was hanged from the rafters of the thieves house.
Just as he dropped, a large party of policemen burst into
the room. They went straight to Turpin and
seized him. A wild scuffle ensued, in the
course of which Turpin managed to get to the door and seeing
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the front door guarded by 4 cops, dashed up the stairs to
the bedrooms, picking one at random.
He entered, went to the window, found there was a roof he could
climb out on, and so he did, butalready the cops were coming out
the window after him. He set out running.
The cops gave tongue as they chased, shouting.
A Highwayman £1000 Reward which of.
Course got their posse numbers augmented considerably by random
(03:30):
penurious neighbors. Finally, Dick reached a street
he recognized. He ducked down it, made a few
turns and lost his pursuers in the maze of alleys.
Emerging again onto Oxford Road,he came across a groom holding a
horse, obviously waiting for itsrider to return.
So Dick bowled him over, jumped on the horse and hit the road
hard just as half a dozen policemen rounded the corner,
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also on horses. They'd stopped a delivery stable
to get mounts. A lively chase now ensued, and
at the end of the chapter Dick was still on the run, barely
keeping ahead of the mounted grabs, and his stolen horse was
noticeably tiring, and the curtain fell with Dick on the
road a mile or so ahead, but still in full view of his
pursuers. Would he give them the slip?
(04:13):
We'll find out today. Chapter 16.
Dick is a witness to a very singular scene in the old
country church. Thick black clouds had hitherto
wholly hidden the moon's face, but now, through a large
straggling rift, she looked downupon the earth.
(04:36):
Confound it, said Turpin, as thebright rays fell upon his
countenance. I could have done very well
without any more light. Now they will be able to see me
a mile off. The road was very straight
indeed. It must have been remarked by
many what a great distance it goes without making a bend
either to the right or the left.So there was little or no
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exaggeration in Turpin's words when he said the officers would
be able to see him a mile off. I must get out of this, that's
certain, he added. Let me see a little farther on.
I shall come to what I call the Dark Lane, for want of a better
name, and down that I will take my way.
Ah, here it is. Even while he spoke, Turpin
found that he had arrived opposite the entrance to the
(05:19):
lane, and he turned down it likea shot, disappearing from the
gaze of the officers with a suddenness that must have
appeared to them almost magical.Turpin had very appropriately
designated this lane by the adjective dark, for the trees on
both sides grew to such a great height and so very thickly
together, that scarcely a ray oflight of any description
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penetrated through them, and it seemed more like riding into a
cave than aught else. Turpin dashed onward without
suffering his horse to relax at speed in the least a few
minutes, when a horses at full gallop will carry the rider over
a great deal of ground. And so in a very short time
Turpin emerged from this lane into the High Road again.
(05:59):
He could not see them, but he could hear the clatter of his
pursuers footsteps. Now for it, said Turpin, I can't
get clear by riding, so I will give them the slip.
Ah, now that will do. First rate capital.
He flung himself off his horse as he spoke.
He took the reins and tucked them tightly under the front of
the saddle, and then with the palm of his hand struck the
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horse's smart blow on the flank which caused the high metalled
creature to gallop swiftly alongthe road.
Turpin passed over to the other side and crawled through a gap
in the hedge. He found himself in a Meadow on
the West side of which, over another hedge, was an old
country church. A loud shout, and apparently of
gratification, let him know thatthe officers had reached the
(06:40):
road. What can they be so pleased
about, I wonder? Asked Turpin.
I will take a peep through the hedge.
He did so, and was so astonishedby what he saw that he almost
betrayed his place of concealment by an exclamation.
The officers were standing in a throng near the end of the lane,
looking attentively at something.
Turpin followed the direction oftheir eyes, and saw for the
(07:03):
second time that spectral resemblance to himself.
The officer saw it too, so it was clear that there was no
delusion about the matter, or rather, if there was, they were
subject to it as well as himself.
The figure was standing in the middle of the highway, at about
half a mile distant, looking back over his shoulder at the
officers, and seemingly in such an attitude as to be able to
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start so soon as any symptom of motion showed itself upon their
part. Turpin was bewildered, and he
looked first from the officers and then to his second self.
What a what can it be? He asked.
What am I to think of this strange assumption of my own
form? It would be perfect madness, or
I would, as I am resolved, rush forward and solve this mystery.
(07:46):
Now I am compelled to inaction by mutual consent.
Both parties seem to have come to a halt for the purpose of
resting their steeds, and so long as that distance was
preserved between them, neither could obtain the advantage of
the other. Turpin was full of curiosity and
wonder to know what would happennext.
Suddenly the chief of the policeuttered a few words to his
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companions, and then the whole of the troop, clapping spurs to
their horses, sides, speed quickly down the lane.
The spectre horseman, and whom they no doubt believe was Turpin
himself, was not apparently at all disconcerted at this
proceeding on the part of the officers, for he too gave the
reins to his horse, and set off at full speed.
The officers gave a loud shout as they commenced an immediate
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pursuit. This grows stranger and more and
more incomprehensible, said Turpin, as he arose from his
recumbent position in the Meadow.
Who can this mysterious being be, who so closely resembles my
form and dress? For that it is anything
supernatural I resolutely disbelieve, and will do.
Yet the whole affair is most perplexing and mysterious.
(08:52):
It is quite evident, though, that the officers are laboring
under the impression that it is me.
So far it is very good, since I have an opportunity of escape
which I should not have had under other circumstances.
Until, however, I find it out, Iam quite certain I shall know no
peace. I feel exceedingly desirous to
know how this chase is getting on, and whether they have caught
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my double. Is there a tree anywhere I can
climb? No, He looked all around him as
he spoke. But no tree of any magnitude, or
from which anything like of you could be obtained, was insight.
Stop now, he added, as his eye fell upon the old church to
which we have alluded. Stop now.
That church seems to have a tolerably high Spire.
Now if I could only get up that I could see for miles around
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first rate. No sooner did this thought enter
his mind, then he hastened across the Meadow to put it into
execution. He soon reached the hedge which
he surmounted, and then rolled down a grassy bank into a very
narrow but picturesque looking lane.
He was on his feet in a moment. Who'd have thought?
Now he said that I was going to miss my footing in that manner.
(09:55):
Never mind, it's all right, I suppose.
This narrow path leads to the church.
Turpin was right enough in this supposition, and a few minutes
later he reached the entrance tothe graveyard.
As is often the case in country places, there was a right of Rd.
through the churchyard, so Turpin had no other trouble in
entering than that of pushing through a turnstile.
(10:15):
He hurried up the broad, smooth gravel path, and descending a
short flight of stone steps, stood beneath the porch.
A door was facing him, which he naturally enough supposed let
him to the church, and there wasanother on his right, which was
beyond a doubt the one he wanted, namely, that leading to
the belfry. The almost full moon lent him
sufficient light to make an examination of the door.
(10:38):
It was fastened, but that was a circumstance of no importance,
for it creaked open in a moment under the application of
Turpin's finger. The blackness and silence of the
tomb were before him. Dimly, though, he could see by
the faint light that straggled into the place, a circular
flight of steps. He pulled the door after him,
and as it dragged a little on its hinge, as it remained close
(11:00):
shut, and two have looked at it from the other side, no one
would have dreamed it had been forcibly broken open.
There were loopholes in the stonework on the staircase at
regular intervals, and through these the moon's rays shone with
an exceedingly beautiful effect.Dick peeped through one or two
of these on his way up the stairs, but the view through so
narrow an aperture was too circumscribed for his purpose.
(11:22):
In less time than would have been believed, considering the
strangeness and darkness of the place, Turpin reached the top of
the steps, and, withdrawing a large rusty bolt, pushed open a
trap door just over his head, after passing through which he
found himself standing on the square leaden roof of the church
tower. The beautiful prospect of many a
mile of moonlit country would have been quite sufficient to
(11:44):
recompense anyone for the trouble of the ascent, and Dick
looked around him with deep pleasure.
The perfect silence and repose that everywhere prevailed lent
to a great charm to the scene. Dick scanned the whole of the
horizon with his keen eyes, but no traces either of pursuer or
pursued were visible. The broad, High Road could be
defined with great distinctness as it wound around as sinuously
(12:08):
as a river, and as the earth in it was of a whitish color, it
looked like a band of silver winding among the bright green
trees. Turpin made a lengthened
examination of all the landscape, but still being
unable to see what he saw, it prepared to descend again.
Yet he lingered upon the roof tower of the old church.
He knew not why he did so, unless it was the extreme beauty
(12:29):
of the scene, to which no words of ours could do adequate
justice. Presently there came upon his
ears a faint muffled sound, and placing one hand upon the stone
battlement, he leaned forward inorder to hear the sound better.
It gradually increased in loudness.
Horsemen, said Turpin, that's certain, and going at a
tremendous pace, too. It must be the officers.
(12:52):
Surely they will be insight directly The faint muffled sound
grew plainer and plainer until the chattering of horses hoofs
could be heard just over the tall edge rose, but at a
considerable distance Dick couldsee a number of riders hats
gliding rapidly along. There they are, exclaimed Dick,
greatly excited. Why, they are coming back.
Have they caught him, I wonder, and made him a prisoner?
(13:14):
The horseman had now within a short distance reached a bend in
the road, turning, after which they would be in full sight of
Dick. It won't do to stand up like
this, he said, for some officious person are just sure
to see me. I must be quite a conspicuous
object up here. There was in reality no ground
for apprehension, for Dick, whenhe spoke, quite forgot the
height to which he had ascended.Still he crouched down low upon
(13:38):
the roof, and peeped over the stone work anxiously.
He found his view was not in theleast impeded, and he had the
gratification of seeing a horseman sweep around the corner
and come at a rapid pace along the road.
Although he was quite prepared, Dick could not help feeling a
little agitated when this horseman came insight.
His resemblance to himself was perfect.
He came along the road at a rapid pace.
(14:00):
In another moment the officers came around the bend, and
catching sight of the flying horseman with many
gesticulations, urged forward bywhip and spur, their almost
exhausted cattle, the interest with which Dick regarded them
was most intense. I can't understand, he muttered.
How can they have turned back and preserved the same position
unless my impersonator has ridden bodily through them?
(14:22):
And I should hardly think he would be foolhardy enough to do
that. It is a thing I should think
twice about before I did it. He lost sight of them all at
this juncture, just as the road took another sudden turn.
But he knew that in a moment or two they must reach that part of
it which passed by the church, and which for a distance of half
a mile or more each way was in nearly a straight line, while
(14:42):
from his elevated position he would be able to see over the
hedgerows on each side of the lane.
Dick's double, for so in his mind he called him, very quickly
made his appearance. He is gaining on them, said
Turpin, a tone of satisfaction in spite of himself tinging in
his voice. He will soon distance them
completely. The officers now came in view.
(15:03):
Their horses seemed all but knocked up.
It was a most exciting race to Turpin, and he watched it with
as much interest as folks do theDerby when they have some very
heavy bets depending on the issue of it.
He forgot all about the caution which had induced him to Crouch
down behind the coping, but roseto his feet and waved his arms,
almost uttering a shout. In his excitement he became
(15:24):
conscious of the risk he had runby seeing one of the officers in
the road below turn and point tothe tower.
Turpin dropped down like a shot.Still he ventured to look over.
The man was evidently from his manner, saying something very
earnestly to his companions. Confound the fellow, said
Turpin, as he looked at him. I wonder now whether he saw me.
(15:45):
What a fool I must have been to stood up in that absurd fashion.
It would appear that what the officer said was simply relative
to the edifice itself, for the whole of them turned round in
their saddles and gazed at it, but they did not slacken speed
while doing so. 5 minutes more and they were out of sight.
Turpin turned away. I can't make it out, he said, as
(16:06):
he felt his way down the steps. Can make it out at all?
Who can this man be who bears soremarkable A resemblance to
myself, and dresses so much the same?
I must wait patiently. I suppose the mystery will be
cleared up someday. I must unquestionably have been
he I saw when mounted in the lane.
Only my excited fancy just then magnified him into a specter.
(16:27):
This was a very probable supposition, but whether it was
a correct one time only can determine.
Turpin grouped his way down the belfry stairs and reached the
bottom in what seemed to him to be an incredibly short time.
However, there, by the faint light of the moon through a
loophole above, he could see thedoor plainly enough.
He pushed it open. Instead, however, of passing
(16:49):
into the porch, as he expected, he found this door opened into
the gallery of the church. The interior, in contrast with
the dark belfry staircase, was quite bathed in light, and a
vague, undefined feeling of curiosity caused Turpent to pass
through this door. And after walking to the edge of
the gallery, he sat down upon one of the front seats and
looked below him. He happened to be facing the
(17:11):
large stained glass window over the altar, and through this the
moon's rays streamed with full force, lighting up all the body
of the church, and leaving the remainder in deep shadow.
Scarcely even in the many sceneswhich he, in the course of a
long career, had met with, had he found one so imposing as
this. A rapt repose, such as can exist
(17:32):
only in a sacred edifice, everywhere prevailed, and
unconsciously and despite himself, strange and solemn
feelings filled his breast, feelings of whose existence he
had hitherto been in ignorance. It might be that he sat 5
minutes or even 10, leaning his head upon his hands and his
elbow upon the railing of the gallery, with his eyes fixed
(17:52):
upon the beautiful stained window, and his mind abstracted
from all things present, when a slight rattling sound made
itself heard and immediately recalled his energies.
The rattling noise continued, and he listened in a vain
endeavor to make out what it wasin that old silent church.
It came upon the hearing clearly, though probably
elsewhere it would have been unnoticed.
(18:14):
Although somewhat startled by the circumstance, Dick retained
sufficient presence of mind to remain perfectly still.
In another instant he heard a sharp click, which was followed
by a grating noise. Then he heard a voice.
Confound the old door. Said someone.
What a trouble I had to open it to be sure I must have that key
(18:35):
or seen to tomorrow, kept jumping about in a very improper
manner. It must be bewitched.
However, I knew it would have yielded to me in the end.
Me Solomon Gogs, as there has been beetle and sex in here a
matter of 40 years. That's why I had patience.
I knew very well when it kept. Bobbing about so and if I took
(18:59):
a. Careful aim, the key would sure
go. In, and so it did.
Hold up. The speaker blundered against
something in his path. The words, however, which he had
uttered made things quite intelligible to Turpin.
It was the rattling of the key in the lock that had disturbed
the high women's ruminations, and the thick tones in which the
(19:19):
old man had spoken, and who had named himself Solomon Goggs,
proclaimed pretty loudly that hewas some distance gone in
intoxication. What was his motive for paying
the church a visit? It's so unusual.
An hour he had yet to learn. So Turpin remained quite quiet,
and listened for him to speak again.
As he fully anticipated, he had not long to wait, for Mr.
(19:40):
Solomon Gog's Beadle and Sexton had reached that point in his
potations at which extreme loquaciousness began.
Oh, I see. No, it's one of the Beninis and
belonging to the free seats. Confound the free seats, there
are no business. To be such things in but.
Church leastways of all downstairs.
(20:02):
To be sure very close to the door I should like to know who
it was pulled the bench out someof the low minded marbocracy
sort of people as just like very.
Imperants make a me brick my shins again it.
Come up, will you? The last words apparently were
addressed to the bench against which he had stumbled, and which
(20:24):
might be supposed to have been somewhat refractory, for the
words were followed by a rumbling, creaking sound which
echoed and re echoed through thebuilding.
That's right at last. What?
The night of adventures, To be sure, it's infernal disagreeable
life. I come here infernally
disagreeable. I am well paid, though, so I
(20:47):
ought not to grumble. Still, I am always aggravitated
when I have to leave em pleasantcompany at the well of content.
The sooner this job's over for better, and then I shall stand a
chance of getting. Back again before they have.
All gone. Thus speaking, the old man, in a
devious, uncertain kind of way, made his way along the Isle of
(21:09):
the Church. Well, this is looking like it's
going to be great fun. I guess I could have done
without the whole. Dick forgot himself and started
waving his arms from the top of the Spire bit, since it went
absolutely nowhere and served only to make our hero look like
a temporary idiot. But, well, the demands of word
(21:30):
count for a publication like this are pretty relentless.
Most likely our author had to come up with some business to
pan the story out a little. Although actually, the attention
being paid to the church is going to be significant in the
next chapter, methinks. Speaking of the next chapter, in
it, Dick withdraws into the shadows to watch the beetle
Solomon Gogs preparing the church for what looks like it's
(21:51):
going to be a midnight clandestine wedding.
And as we'll see, that's exactlywhat's intended.
We'll soon find out who is marrying whom by dark of night,
one of them eager and the other extremely reluctant.
But if you'd like to learn a little bit more about the actual
historical context of this chapter, because it depicts an
event that actually occurred in history.
(22:13):
So do yourself the favor of looking up Elizabeth Pierre Pont
on Wikipedia. We don't do homework assignments
on the Penny Dreadful Hour, of course.
But let's just say that if you know the history of Elizabeth
Chudle Hervey Pierre Pont, Duchess of Kingston, and her
husband, the Earl of Bristol, and her other husband the Duke
of Kingston upon Hall, the next chapter of this dreadful will be
(22:34):
considerably more meaningful foryou.
All right. Now, if you're just here for the
Penny Dreadful, that's all we'vegot today.
This Tupany Terrible Tuesday episode of the Penny Dreadful
Variety Hour continues, and whatwe have done is we've moved the
most salacious parts of our show, the naughty bits if you
will, to Tupany Terrible Tuesdays.
(22:56):
So if you're interested in the body drinking songs, risque
anecdotes, and dirty jokes, stick around.
First, let's visit the poetry ofthe age via one of the great old
informal evening song books. And in keeping with the spirit
of Tupan Terrible Tuesday, I'm going to start us off with a
pretty spicy one for today's salacious Supper Club song.
(23:24):
I've picked one that's actually spicy enough to require me to
put an explicit tag on this episode.
Although surely not the worst you've heard, it is a bit
naughty and also a little scatologically enhanced.
Let's say what it's not is sexy.Sorry, it's just not.
But enough palaver. Let's hear it.
This is a fairly short song, andit's taken from The
(23:46):
Convivialist, an extensive collection of humorous flash and
love songs published circa 1833 by Jay Duncan of Holburn.
Bette Blozy, by the way, Blozy is a slang term for a prostitute
of kind of low degree subtitle. A fancy song as sung at
Awfully's Burton Ale Rooms tune.I'll tell my mommy when I get
(24:10):
home. Here it goes.
Jack called on Bette Blozy, a buxom young whore, not thinking,
as some do, such pleasures as sin.
The night was pitch dark, loud. He knocked at the door,
beseeching dear Bessie to let him.
Soon in to the window she came loudly bawling.
Be quiet, then whispered. You can't Jack this night's
(24:31):
sleep with me. Be off, you blackguard.
Do not kick up a riot. My husband, Tom Blozy has just
come from the sea. Poor Jack's heart at this,
filled with sorrow and woe. One kiss he demanded before.
Off he sheared to this bet, consented if then he would go,
And afterwards homeward in quietness steered like a cat in
(24:51):
a moment to the window he went, from which Beth had stuck out
her fat hinder part, not thinking there was for him any
trick meant. He kissed it, and she let a
glorious fart. Editor's NOTE.
Fart and whore have been represented here by, well, F-T.
But it's quite clear what the word was supposed to be, so I
just went ahead and read it backto our song.
(25:14):
As if he'd been shot In an instant, he fell and bawled.
Were I with you are ribs would Ilace?
I wish by my soul you were floating in hell, you damned
dirty bitch you spit down in my face.
Editor's Note The word bitch wasactually considerably more
offensive in the Victorian period than it is today.
You rarely see it in these. Horror wasn't considered so bad.
(25:37):
And that's the end of this one. In today's terrific Register
article, we are delving into some Old English history from
the Jacobite uprising in 1745, the last attempts by the Stuarts
to reclaim the throne of Englandfrom the royal House of Hanover.
The full story of the Jacobite Uprising of 1745 is more than I
(25:59):
want to get into here, but if you're not familiar with it, it
will more than repay the half hour or so it takes to read all
about it on Wikipedia. But the article focuses on one
episode from the Jacobite uprising, the involvement of a
young man named Jimmy Dawson whorallied to the Jacobite colors
when the Stewart army invaded England with its Scottish allies
and was caught and hanged for treason.
(26:21):
Here we go, The Broken Heart, Shen Stone's pathetic and
defecting ballad of Jimmy Dawson, has drawn tears from
every person of sensibility or possessing the feelings of
humanity, and it will continue to be admired as long as the
English language shall exist. This ballad, which is founded in
truth, was taken from a narrative first published in The
(26:42):
Parrot in the 2nd of August, 1746, three days after the
transaction It records. It is given in the form of a
letter, and is as follows. A young lady of good family and
handsome fortune, had for some time extremely loved, and was
equally loved by Mr. James Dawson, one of those unhappy
gentlemen who suffered on Wednesday last at Kennington
(27:04):
Common for high treason, and hadhe either been acquitted or have
found the royal mercy after condemnation, the day of his
enlargement was to have been that of their marriage.
I will not prolong the narrativeby repetition of what she
suffered on sentence being passed on him.
None, excepting those utterly incapable of feeling any softer
(27:25):
generous emotions, but may easily conceive her agonies.
Besides, the sad catastrophe will convince you of their
sincerity. Not all of the persuasions of
her kindred could prevent her from going to the place of
execution. She was determined to see the
last of a person so dear to her,and accordingly followed the
sledges in a Hackney coach, accompanied by a gentleman
(27:46):
nearly related to her, and one female friend.
She got near enough to see the fire kindled which was to
consume that heart which she knew was so much devoted to her,
and all the other dreadful preparations for his fate,
without betraying any of those emotions her friends
apprehended. But when all was over, and she
found he was no more, she threw her head back onto the couch and
(28:09):
ejaculating. My dear, I follow Thee, I follow
thee, Lord Jesus, receive both our souls together.
Fell on the neck of her companion, and expired at the
very moment she had done speaking.
That excessive grief which the force of her resolution had kept
smothered within her breast, is thought to have put a stop to
the vital motion, and suffocatedat once all the animal spirits
(28:32):
in the Whitehall. Evening Post, August 7th.
This narrative is copied with this remark, that, upon inquiry,
every circumstance was literallytrue.
A ballad was cried about the streets at the time, founded on
this melancholy narrative, but it can scarcely be said to have
aided Shenstone in his beautifulproduction.
That's the end of the article from the terrific Register.
(28:54):
Now the ballad the article referred to as Jimmy Dawson by
William Shenstone, and it was pinned in 1746, shortly after
the execution. I have been unable to track down
the broadsheet St. ballad that someone wrote.
It may be out there somewhere, but most likely it's lost.
There were thousands of these little broadsheets printed and
sold on the streets throughout the century, and no one ever
(29:15):
thought to save them for posterity.
But here is Shenstone's ballad on the topic.
Come listen to my mournful tale,you tender hearts and lovers,
dear. Nor will you scorn to heave a
sign, Or need you blush to shed a tear.
And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, do thou A pensive ear
incline, For thou canst weep at every woe, and pity every plaint
(29:38):
but mine. EDITOR'S NOTE.
I just can't resist budding in here to laugh at this verse.
The poet trying to guilt trip his share a me into sleeping
with him is such a trope in the high end poetry of this period.
It does seem a little weird herethough, at least to modern
years, but yet to continue. Young Dawson was a gallant boy,
a writer never trod the plain and will.
(30:00):
He loved one charming maid and dearly was he loved to gain 1
tender maid. She loved him dear.
Of gentle blood the damsel came,And faultless was her beauteous
form, And spotless was her virgin fame.
But curse on party's hateful strife That led the favored
youth astray. The day the rebel clans
appeared, Oh, had he never seen that day.
(30:22):
Their colors and their sash he wore, And in that fatal dress
was found. And now he must that death
endure Which gives the brave thekeenest wound.
How pale was then his true Love's cheek when Jemmy's
sentence reached her ear, For never yet did Alpine snows, so
pale, nor yet so chill, appear. With faltering voice she weeping
(30:42):
said Who, Dawson, monarch of my heart, think not.
Thy death shall end our loves, for thou and I will never part.
Yet might sweet mercy find a place and bring relief to
Jemmy's woes. Oh, George, without a prayer for
thee my orisons should never close.
The gracious Prince that gave him life would crown a never
dying flame, And every tender babe I bore should learn to lisp
(31:05):
the giver's name. But though he should be dragged
and scorned to Yonder ignominious tree, he shall not
want one constant friend to share the cruel fate's decree.
Oh, then her mourning coach was called.
The sledge moved slowly on. Before, though born in a
triumphal car, she had not lovedher favorite more.
(31:25):
She followed him, prepared to view the terrible behests of law
and the last scene of Jemmy's woes.
With calm and steadfast eyes. She saw distorted was that
blooming face which she had fondly loved so long, and
stifled was that tuneful breath which in her praise had sweetly
sung, and severed was that beauteous neck round which her
(31:46):
arms had fondly closed, and mangled was that beauteous
breast on which her lovesick head reposed.
And ravished was that constant heart she did to every heart
prefer. For though it could its king
forget, Twas true and loyal still to her Amid those
unrelenting flames she bore thisconstant heart to see but one
Twas mouldered into dust, yet yet she cried.
(32:08):
I follow thee, my death, My death alone can show the pure,
The lasting love I bore. Except, O heaven, of woes like
ours, and let us, let us weep nomore.
The dismal scene was o'er and past.
The lover's mournful hearse retired.
The maid drew back her languid head, And sighing forth, his
name expired. Though justice ever must
(32:29):
prevail, The tear my Kitty shedsis due.
For seldom shall she hear a taleso sad, so tender, yet so true.
Well, there it is now you know the ballad of Jimmy Dawson.
Maybe it's a timely warning for us colonials not to take
politics, and especially politicians, too seriously.
We live in an age in which it's awfully easy for young folks to
(32:51):
get radicalized and run out there and do or say something
they hopefully will live to regret.
Clue, sashage, Clue. Salem M Shows All right, well
that wraps up this Tubany terrible Tuesday episode of the
Penny Dreadful Variety Show. I hope that you will join me
again in a couple of days from now for the Hate Benny Horrid
(33:13):
Hers Day half hour mini sod of the Penny Dreadful Variety Show.
The Hate Benny Horrid Hers Day show is dedicated to all things
horrid, as in horror. We won't be doing a dreadful
chapter this Thursday. Instead, we've got a couple
really gnarly true crime storiesfrom The Terrific Register,
along with some other miscellaneous early Victorian
grim dark fair. If you're just here for the
(33:36):
Penny Dreadful chapter readings,you might choose to skip over
Thursday's show and go straight to next Sunday's full episode
featuring Chapter 5 of Rose Mortimer or the ballet Girl's
revenge in Chapter 5 of The Mysteries of London by George WM
Reynolds. Both upcoming shows will be
coming your way at Dick Turpin Scragging Hour, 5:37 PM.
(33:57):
That's 1737 Military time this Thursday and Sunday evening
both. Our theme music is a version of
Golden Slippers, A minstrel showsong written by James A Bland in
1879. This version is by Seattle Old
Time band $4.00 Shoe. For more of their music, just
Google $4.00 Shoe. It'll pop right up.
(34:18):
No matter how you spell it, they're almost as good at search
engine optimization as they are at Old Time Music.
The Penny Dreadful Variety Hour is a creation of Pulp Lit
Productions. For more details, see
pulp-lit.com. And to get in touch with me, hit
me up at finn@pulp-lit.com. Thanks again for joining me,
Manab's. It's time now for us to Sherry
(34:38):
off and rest up for another day on the Everlasting staircase for
the Penny Dreadful variety Show.I'm Finn, JD John signing off.
And now fair forth and fill up the rest of the week with tip
top stuff. Bye now.
Oh yeah, the everlasting staircase is the treadmill at
Brixton Prison. And Sherry off just means run
off. OK, this time I mean it.
(34:59):
Bye now.
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