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July 22, 2025 36 mins

A half-hour- long Tuesday Twopenny Terrible Minisode IN WHICH —

0:02:30: TERRIBLE TIDBIT of the DAY for JULY 22:

  • A sad account of a steamboat voyage on July 22, 1850, which ended with a terrific boiler explosion and much loss of life. Originally published in Household Words magazine by Charles Dickens; courtesy of Cate Ludlow and The History Press (UK).


0:08:00: VARNEY THE VAMPYRE, Ch. 16:

  • "The Meeting of the Lovers in the Garden. — An Affecting Scene. — The Sudden Appearance of Sir Francis Varney." Charles Holland is trying to convince Flora to allow him to stay and support her despite her potential incipient vampirism. He pleads his case in the summer-house in the garden. But soft: whose soft footfall is that, approaching the summer-house? Could it be the vampire himself?


0:27:00: TERRIFIC REGISTER, pg. 6:

  • "An Account of a Family Who Were All Afflicted with the Loss of their Limbs": The melancholy account of a family of eight, all of whom suddenly developed black spots on their feet and ankles which led to amputations of varying severity and to the death of an infant.


PLUS —

  • A miscellany of flash-cant words, the ballad of an old watchy, 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!

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Transcript

Episode Transcript

Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:09):
The tip top? Tuesday evening to all you cat
gut teasers out and outers and. Nights of the Brush and.
The Moon. I'm your host Finn JD John
welcoming you back to the Chafing Crib.
It's a 2 penny Terrible Tuesday once again on the Penny Dreadful
variety hour show. Tubidy Terrible Tuesday is 1/2

(00:29):
hour presentation to tide you over till next Sunday.
And to speed things up a. Bit so that it doesn't take more
than two weeks to get to the next chapter of your favorite
dreadful Tubidy. Terrible Tuesday is about to
change into something even better, but I'll save that
announcement for the announcement section at the end
of this episode. And it's a work night, isn't it?
So maybe go easy on the Blue Ruin tonight.

(00:50):
Maybe pour yourself 1/2 a pint of Strike Me Dead or a little
flicker of Blackstrap just to take the chill off and sit back
and smile. A booster shot dose of penny
dreadful goodness is coming yourway right now.
Here's what we've got in store for tonight.
First, of course, we'll get today's terrible tidbit from the

(01:11):
Dickens Dreadful Almanac. Then we'll have a song or two
from one of the many collectionsof drinking, Thieving and.
Sinning songs with which? Our favorite historical period
abounded, and then it's on to Chapter 16 of.
Vani the Vampire or the Feast ofBlood by James.
Malcolm Reimer, which first started in 1845.

(01:32):
Chapter 16 is the chapter in which Charles Holland is trying
to convince Flora to allow him to stay and support her despite
her potential incipient vampirism.
The decision will become a little bit more complicated at
the very end of the chapter, though.
After that, we'll have a little something from the terrific
Register, that fabulous little scandal sheet we've been Derrick

(01:54):
ING from. And since it is a terrible
Tuesday. It'll be kind of a.
Gruesome one, but yeah, let's get to it.
It's now time for our terrible tidbit of the day from Dickens
Dreadful Almanac, that delightful collection assembled.
By Kate Ludlow of the. History Press, consisting of a

(02:15):
terrible event for every day of the year, published by Charles
Dickens when he was editing Household Words magazine, and
today is July 22nd, so here is today's entry.
A calamitous Steamboat explosiontook place at Bristol on the
22nd. The Red Rover steamer left the

(02:36):
Hot Wells around 8:00 in the evening and was about to proceed
to Bristol full of passengers, when she suddenly blew up with a
noise that shook the neighborhood and was heard at a
distance of miles. The engines and machinery were
torn to pieces, her funnel, the plates of her boiler and other
portions of her machinery being hurled into the air.

(02:56):
The bodies of some of the passengers were thrown by the
shock high above the houses, others were cast into the water,
and almost every passenger was more or less injured.
The vessel almost immediately sank, going down by the head,
her stern fortunately remaining long enough above the water to
enable some of the passengers tobe taken out of the aft cabin
windows. Such was the force of the

(03:18):
explosion that some of the plates of the boiler of the
steamer were thrown with considerable violence onto the
roofs of the houses in Avon Crescent and Rawlings yard, more
than 100 yards from the spot where the explosions took place,
and one piece upwards of 1 1/2 hundredweight was thrown into
Messrs Hennett's timber yard at fully as great a distance.

(03:38):
A little girl named Jeffreys washurled by the explosion with
such violence as to be thrown completely across the Loch to
the road on the opposite side, where her brains were dashed out
against the wall. The most prompt assistance was
given, and a number of persons, alive and dead were picked up. 6
dead bodies were found, and manycarried to the hospital were so

(03:58):
dreadfully injured that their recovery could hardly be
expected on the following day. An inquiry into the cause of the
accident commenced before the Coroner, 1850.
Well, that was a suitably terrible tidbit, wasn't it?
Next, before we move on to today's Tupany.
Terrible Tuesday, dreadful reading.

(04:20):
Let's visit the poetry of the age via one of the great.
Old informal evening songbooks. This song lyric is taken from
the true history of Tom and Jerry, day and night.
Scenes of life in London from the.
Start to the Finish by Charles Hindley.
First published in or around. 1870.

(04:40):
It's titled The Last Charlie wasclearly intended to be sung.
But it doesn't say what the tuneis supposed to be, so I'm just
going to. Read it as poetry as usual.
St. Giles clock has sounded.
Too. The moon was on the wane, and
bitterly the north wind blew in.Torrents fell the rain.
When like a. Goblin from the grave a ghastly
form appeared, and thrice A grievous groan it gave, Thrice

(05:04):
scratched its grizzly beard. Tall.
Wretched. Shivering pale and thin it.
Braved the pelting storm withoutan upper Benjamin to keep the
carcass warm. Prostate upon the flags that lay
where 7. Dials meet and och.
It cried. Is this away?
A Jotmund? A tree?
I must soon haste to join the Frong on Pluto's dreary coast.

(05:25):
I've given up my spirits long now all give up for ghost.
Yes, I must go at Fate's commandand Charon's ferryboat And
change the rattles in my hand For rattles in my throat that
rattle which the prigs to catch would over Charleys bring
Watchmen we know, or like a watch.
Nothing without a spring. My lanthorn and the Fort, I vow

(05:48):
the SOB of sorrow draws. No lanthorn can I carry now
except my lanthorn jaws with grief unfeigned.
My art is big, The power of utterance fails and losing V me
old Welsh Whig. This tortured art bewails my
nightcap red which this poor reda.
Screen from damp and dew. Like my poor cap, I've lost my

(06:11):
nap and I am worsted too snug inmy box.
I bore the shocks of drunkards jeer and scoffing.
Now this vile cough will take meoff and box me in a coffin to
vee my pipe. My bosom yearns these moments
free from pain in which I sat and smoke returns which ne'er
return again. This new police has laid me

(06:34):
flat, that Christian arts condole, and in the mud they
roll. Poor Pat who once was a patrol.
When I think of formal years it almost drives me crazy.
Bare up my soul be drawing my tears, My throbbing art be hazy.
Once I was young and now I'm old.
Once full of front and frisky, But now I shodder and for cold

(06:56):
and for devil a drop of whisky. He spoke and sadly gazed around
these last words he could utter.Then with a mournful guttural
sound, I rolled headlong in the gutter.
Charlie's were the watchman thatwould stand on.
Corners in old London. Shouting out the hour of day and
they carried A rattle which would make a rattling sound when
they pushed a. Spring.

(07:17):
That was an alarm. They were replaced by the new.
Police and the idea is that thissong is a.
A lament by a an old Charlie whois now irrelevant.
And getting old and facing the bong end of the.
Circle of life, the reference toan upper.
Benjamin, that means a. Heavy overcoat.
The carcass is, of course, the body.

(07:37):
The box is a reference to the little huts that they had where
they would stand out of the rain.
And it was considered. Great fun by sporting
youngbloods to push the box overso that they were stuck inside
of it. Because you could only enter.
Enter or exit through the front.So then they would be supposedly
stuck in the box. Of course, the youngbloods would
then run. For it and he'd never catch

(07:59):
them. Finally.
It is time for our. Last.
Dreadful of the evening. Varney the Vampire Last week in
Chapter 15 of Varney the Vampire, While all this vampire
stuff was going on at Bannerworth Hall, the entire
town and surrounding villages were all at Twitter with talk of

(08:20):
the vampire of Bannerworth Hall.The center of such gossip was an
inn called Nelson's Arms in Uxatter, the nearest market town
to the hall, and it had started doing a brisk trade as a pied
auteur for lovers of the bizarreand the horrible who were
checking in and drinking a good deal in the evenings.
The vampires were good for business at the Nelson's Arms.

(08:42):
Towards evening on the day of Henry and Mr. Marchdale's visit
to Radford Abbey, 2 new characters entered our story by
checking into the Nelson's Arms.They were Admiral Bell, a
retired Navy officer of about 70, and Jack Pringle, an able
bodied seaman of the classic Jack Tarr type.
We're going to be getting to know both of these characters
much better as this story continues.

(09:04):
Admiral Bell was Charles Holland's uncle.
He had been summoned to Oxalter by a mysterious letter,
ostensibly from a solicitor named Josiah Crinkles, warning
him that his beloved nephew was about to enter into a
relationship with a highly objectionable girl from a highly
objectionable family, a member of which is a highly
objectionable vampire. And obviously, marrying into a

(09:26):
vampire family would be a real disaster for everyone involved,
except possibly the vampire. The letter urged Admiral Bell to
come to Oxalter, collect his wandering nephew and save him
from the dreadful fate of becoming a blood donor to his
own brood of blood suckers. Mr. Crinkles, when they found
him, said the letter was a complete forgery and that he
never sent it. Jack and the Admiral then bought

(09:48):
him a few drinks and spent a pleasant evening getting caught
up on all the gossip about the vampire of Bannerworth Hall
before preparing to Sally forth and see for themselves.
How things stood. Which they will be doing forth
with, but actually there's some other action happening at
Bannerworth Hall at the same time which we should take a look
at for the next couple of chapters.
Starting now Chapter 16. The meeting of the lovers in the

(10:17):
garden. An affecting scene.
The sudden appearance of Sir Francis Varney.
Our readers will recollect that Flora Bannerworth had made an
appointment with Charles Hollandin the garden of the Hall.
This meeting was looked forward to by the young man with a
variety of conflicting feelings,and he passed the intermediate

(10:39):
time in a most painful state of doubt as to what would be its
result. The thought.
That he should be much urged by Flora to give up all thoughts of
making her his, was a most bitter one to him, who loved her
with so much truth and constancy, and that she would
say all she could to induce sucha resolution in his mind, he
felt certain. But to him, the idea.

(11:01):
Of now abandoning her presented itself in the worst of aspects.
Shall I? He said, Sink.
So low in my own estimation, as well as in hers, and in that of
all honourable minded persons, as to.
Desert her now, and the hour of her affliction.
Dare I be so base as to? Actually or virtually?
Say to her, Flora, when your beauty was undimmed by sorrow,

(11:25):
when all around you seemed life and joy, I loved you.
Selfishly for the increased happiness which you might bestow
upon me, but now the hand of. Misfortune presses heavily upon
you. You are not what you were.
And I desert you. Never, never, never.
Charles Holland, it will be seenby some of our more philosophic

(11:45):
neighbors, felt more acutely than he reasoned.
But let his errors of argumentation be what they may.
Can we do other than admire the nobility of soul which dictated
such a self denying generous course as that he was pursuing?
As for Flora, heaven only knows if at that precise time her
intellect had completely stood the test of the trying events

(12:06):
which had nearly overwhelmed it.The two grand feelings that
seemed to possess her mind were fear of the renewed visits of
the vampire and an earnest desire to release Charles
Holland from his repeated vows of constancy towards her.
Feeling generosity and judgment,all revolted holding a young man
to such a destiny as hers, to link him to her fate.

(12:29):
Would be to make him. To a real extent a sharer in it.
And the more she heard fall fromhis lips in the way of generous
feelings of continued attachmentto her, the more severely did
she feel that he would suffer most acutely if united to her.
And she was right. The very generosity of feeling
which would have now prompted Charles Holland to lead Flora

(12:51):
Banoworth to the altar, even with the marks of the vampire's
teeth. Upon her throat gave an.
Assurance of the depth of feeling which would have made
him an ample haven in all her miseries, in all her distresses
and afflictions. What was familiarly in the
family at the hall called the Garden, was a semicircular piece
of ground, shaded in several directions by trees, and which

(13:14):
was exclusively devoted to the growth of flowers.
The piece of ground was nearly hidden from the view of the
house, and in its center was a summer house, which at the usual
season of the year, was covered with all kinds of creeping
plants of exquisite perfumes andrare beauty.
All around 2 bloomed the fairestand sweetest of flowers, which a

(13:34):
rich soil and a sheltered situation could produce.
Alas, though of late many weeds had straggled up among their
more estimable floral culture, for the decayed fortunes of the
family had prevented them from keeping the necessary servants
to place the hall and its grounds in a state of neatness
such as it had once been the pride of the inhabitants of the

(13:55):
place to see them. It was then, in this flower
garden that Charles and Flora used to meet.
As may be supposed, he was on the spot before the appointed
hour, anxiously expecting the appearance of her who was so
really and truly dear to him. What to him were the sweet
flowers that there grew in such luxuriance and heedless beauty?

(14:18):
Alas, the flower that to his mind was fairer than them all
was blighted, and in the Wan cheek of her whom he loved, he
sighed to see the Lily usurping the place of the ragent rose.
Dear, dear Flora. He ejaculated.
You must indeed be taken from this place, which is.
So full. Of the most painful
remembrances. Now.

(14:39):
I cannot. Think that Mister Marchdale
somehow is a friend to. Me.
But that conviction, or rather impression, does not paralyze my
judgment sufficiently to induce me not to acknowledge.
That his advice is good. He might have couched it in
pleasanter. Words, words that would not like
daggers, have each brought a deadly.
Pang home to my heart, but stillI do think that in his.

(15:01):
Conclusion. He was right.
A light sound, as of some fairy footstep among the flowers, came
upon his ears. And turning.
Instantly, in the direction fromwhence the sound proceeded, he
saw what his heart had previously assured him of,
namely, that it was his floor that was coming.
Yes, it was she. But ah, how pale.

(15:21):
How? Wan how languid and full of the
evidences of much mental suffering was she?
Where now was the elasticity of that youthful step?
Where now was that lustrous, beaming beauty of mirthfulness
which was want to dawn in those eyes?
Alas, all was changed the. Exquisite beauty of form was
there, but the light of joy which had lent its most

(15:43):
transcendent charms to that heavenly face, was gone.
Charles was by her side in a moment.
He had her hand clasped. In his while his disengaged 1
was wound tenderly around her taper waist.
Flora, dear, dear Flora. He said.
You are better tell me that you feel the gentle air revives you.
She could not speak, her heart was too full of woe.

(16:07):
Oh. Flora, my own, my beautiful.
He added in those tones which come so direct from the heart
and which are so different from any assumption of tenderness.
Speak to me, dear, dear Flora, Speak to me if it be but a word,
Charles. Was all she could say.
And then she. Burst into a flood of tears, and

(16:28):
leaned so heavily upon his arm that it was evident.
But for that support she must have fallen.
Charles Holland welcomed those, although they grieved him so
much that he could have accompanied them with his own.
But then he knew that she would soon now be more composed, and
they would relieve the heart whose sorrows had called them
into existence. He forbore to speak.

(16:48):
To her, until he felt the suddengush of feeling was subsiding
into sobs, and then in low soft accents he again endeavoured to
breathe comfort to her afflictedand terrified spirit.
My dear Flora. He said.
Remember that there are warm hearts that love you.
Remember that neither time nor circumstance can change such

(17:08):
endearing affection as mine. Ah, Flora, what evil is there in
the whole world that love may not conquer, and in the heights
of its noble feelings laugh to scorn?
00 Hush, Charles, hush. Wherefore, Flora, would you
steal the voice of pure affection?
I love you. Surely as few have ever loved.

(17:29):
Ah, why would you forbid me to give such utterances as I may to
those feelings which fill up my whole heart?
No, no, no, Flora, Flora. Wherefore do you say no?
Do not, Charles now speak to me of affection or love?
Do not tell me you love me now, not tell you I love you.

(17:50):
Ah, Flora, if my tongue, with its poor eloquence, to give
utterance to such a sentiment, were to do its office, each
feature of my face would tell the tale, each action would show
to all the world how much I loved you.
I must not now hear this great God of heaven, give me strength
to carry out the purpose of my soul.

(18:11):
What purpose is it, Flora, that you have to pray thus fervently
for strength to execute? Oh, if it savour aught of reason
against Love's majesty, forget it.
Love is a gift from Heaven, the greatest and the most glorious
gift it ever bestowed upon its creatures.
Heaven will not aid you in repudiating that which is the
one grand redeeming feature thatrescues human nature from a

(18:33):
world of reproach. Flora wrung her hands
desperately as she said. Charles, I know I cannot reason
with you. I know I have not power of
language, aptitude of illustration, nor depth of
thought to hold a mental contention with you.
Flora. For what do you contend you?
You speak of love, and I have ere this spoken to you of love

(18:57):
unchecked. Yes, yes, before this.
And now. Wherefore not now.
Do not tell me you are changed. I am changed, Charles.
Fearfully changed. The curse of God has fallen upon
me. I know not why.
I know not that in Word or in thought I have done evil, except
perchance unwittingly. And yet the vampire, let not

(19:21):
that affright you affright me. It has killed me.
Nay, Flora, you think too much of what I still hope to be
susceptible. A.
Far more rational explanation. By your own words, then,
Charles, I must convict you. I cannot, I dare not be yours
while such a dreadful circumstances hanging over me,
Charles, if a more rational explanation than the hideous one

(19:43):
which my own fancy gives to the form that visits me, can be
found, find it, and rescue me from despair and from madness.
They had now reached the summer house, and as Flora uttered
these words, she threw herself onto a seat and covering her
beautiful face with her hands, she sobbed convulsively.
You have spoken. Said Charles dejectedly.

(20:06):
I have heard that you wish to say to me, No, no, not all,
Charles. I will be patient then, although
what more you may have to add should tear my very
heartstrings. I I have to add Charles?
She said in a tremulous voice. That.
Justice, religion, mercy, every human attribute which bears the

(20:28):
name of virtue calls loudly uponme to no longer hold you to vows
made under different auspices. Go on, Flora.
I then implore you, Charles, finding me what I am, to leave
me to the fate which it has pleased heaven to cast upon me.
I do not ask you, Charles, not to love me.
Tis well. Go on, Flora, because I should

(20:49):
like to think that although I might never see you more, you
loved me still. But you must think seldom of me,
and you must endeavour to be happy with some other.
You cannot Flora. Pursue the picture you yourself.
Would draw these words come not from your heart?
Yes, yes, yes. Did you ever love me, Charles?
Charles, Why will you add another pang to those you know

(21:12):
must already rend my heart? No, Flora, I would tear my own
heart from my bosomer. I would add 1 pang to yours.
Well, I know that gentle maiden modesty would seal your lips to
the soft confession that you love me.
I could not hope the joy of hearing you utter these words.
The tender devoted lovers content to see the truthful

(21:33):
passion in the speaking eyes of beauty.
Content is he to translate it from 1000 acts which to eyes
that look not so acutely. As a lover, Spare no.
Signification. But when you tell me to seek
happiness with another, well maythe anxious question burst from
my throbbing heart of Did you ever love me?
Flora, her senses hung entrancedupon his words.

(21:55):
Oh, what a witchery is in the tongue of love.
Some even of the former colour of her cheek.
Returned as. Forgetting all for the moment
but that she was listening to the voice of him, the thoughts
of whom had made-up the Daydreamof her happiness, she gazed upon
his face. His voice ceased.
To her it seemed as if some music had suddenly left off in

(22:16):
its most exquisite passage. She clung to his arm.
She looked imploringly up at him, her head sunk upon his
breast as she cried. Charles.
Charles. I did love you.
I do love you Now then, let sorrow and misfortune shake
their grisly. Locks in vain, he cried, heart
to heart. Hand in hand with me, defy them.

(22:37):
He lifted his arms up toward heaven as he spoke, and at the
moment came such a rattling pealof Thunder that the very earth
seemed to shake. Upon its axis 1/2.
Scream of terror broke from the lips of.
Flora as she cried. What was that?
Only Thunder? Said Charles calmly.
Twas an awful sound. A natural one.

(22:57):
But at such a moment when you were defying fate to injure us.
Oh, Charles, is it ominous? Flora?
Can you really? Give way to such idle.
Fantasies The sun is obscured high, but it will shine all the.
Brighter for its temporary eclipse, the thunderstorm will.
Clear the air of many noxious vapours.
The forked lightning has its uses as well as its.

(23:19):
Powers of mischief. Hark, there it is again.
Another peal of almost equal intensity to the other shook the
firmament. Flora trembled.
Charles, she said. This is the voice of heaven.
We must part forever. I cannot be yours, Flora.
This is madness. Think again, dear Flora.

(23:39):
Misfortunes for a time Will. Hover.
Over the best and most. Fortunate of us, but like the
clouds that now obscure the sweet.
Sunshine will pass away. And leave no trace behind, the
sunshine of joy will shine on you again.
There was a small. Break in the clouds.
Like a window looking into heaven, from it streamed one
beam of sunlight, so bright, so dazzling, and so beautiful, that

(24:03):
it was a sight of wonder to lookupon.
It fell upon the face of Flora. It warmed her cheek.
It lent lustre to her pale lips and tearful eyes.
It. Illuminated that little summer
house as if it had. Been the shrine of some St.
Behold, cried Charles. Where is your home and now?
God of Heaven, cried Flora. She stretched out her arms.

(24:26):
The clouds that hover over. Your spirit now, said Charles.
Shall pass away. Accept this beam of sunlight as
a promise. From God I will.
I will It is going. It has done its office.
The clouds closed over the smallorifice, and always gloom again
as before Flora, said Charles. Will you not ask me now to leave

(24:48):
you? She allowed him to clasper to
his heart. It was beating for her and for
her only. You will let me, Flora, love you
still. Her voice, as she answered him,
was like the murmur of some distant melody the ears can
scarcely translate to the heart.Charles, we will live, love and
die together. And now there was a rapt

(25:11):
stillness in that summer house. For many minutes, the trance of
joy. They did not speak, but now and
then she would look into his face with an old familiar smile,
and the joy of his heart was near to bursting in tears from
his eyes. A shriek.
Burst from Flora's lips a shriekso wild and shrill that it

(25:32):
awakened echoes far and near Charles.
Staggered back. A step as if shot, and then in
such agonized accents as he was long indeed in banishing the
remembrance of she cried. The vampire.
The vampire. Well, this chapter is not the
most eventful in the catalog, ithas to be said.

(25:53):
It mostly consists of Flora urging Charles to save himself
by dumping her, and Charles professing his steadfastness and
refusing to do so. So there's not much to comment
on here, except at the end. The vampire.
Does that mean that Sir Francis Varney, literally just a few
hours after Henry has apprised him of his similarity to the
vampire and asked him specifically to stay away from

(26:16):
the Bannerworth family, is now actually trespassing in the
Bannerworth's walled garden? In the next chapter, we'll find
out. The visitor in the garden does
indeed turn out to be Sir Francis Varney.
He has come over to the house tosee the portrait that resembles
him, or so he says. It appears.
Actually, he's come over to the house with another end in mind,
because he behaves with such provoking trollish coolness, and

(26:40):
it seems like he's actively trying to get up a quarrel
somehow, maybe with an eye toward fighting a duel with
Henry or Charles. Will he succeed in that?
And what about the Admiral? How does he come into this
TuneIn next time to see how it all goes.
Before we hop the twig in this episode, let's have an appetizer

(27:00):
from the Terrific Register. Here we go.
An account of a family. Who were all afflicted with the
loss of their limbs. John Dowling, a poor laboring
man living in Watersham, had a wife and six children, the
eldest a girl. 15 years of age, the youngest about four months.

(27:22):
They were all that time very healthy, and one of them had
been ill for some time before. On Sunday, the 10th of January,
1762, the eldest girl complainedin the morning of a pain in her
leg, particularly in the calf ofher leg.
Towards evening the pain grew exceedingly violent.
The same evening another girl complained of the same violent
pain in the same leg. On the Monday, the mother and

(27:45):
another child on Tuesday. All the rest of the family were
afflicted in the same manner, some in one leg, some in both
legs. The little infant was taken from
the mother's breast. It seemed to be in pain, but the
limbs did not mortify. It lived a few weeks.
The mother and the other five children continued in violent
pain a considerable time. In about four or five days the

(28:05):
diseased leg began to turn blackgradually, appearing at first
covered with blue spots as if ithad been bruised.
The other leg of those who were affected, at first only in one
leg, about that time also were affected with the same
excruciating pain, and in a few days the leg also began to
mortify. The mortified parts separated
gradually from the sound parts, and the surgeon had in most of

(28:28):
the cases no other trouble than to cut through the bone, which
was black and almost dry. The state of their limbs was
thus. Mary, the mother, aged 40 years,
has lost the right foot at the ankle.
The left foot is also cut off, and two bones of the leg remain
almost dry, with only some little putrid flesh adhering.
In some places the flesh is sound to about two inches below

(28:49):
the knee. The bones would have been sawn
through at that place if she would have consented to it.
Mary aged 15 years, both legs off below the knees.
Elizabeth, aged 13 years, both legs off below the knees.
Sarah, aged 10 years, 1 foot offat the ankle.
The other foot was affected but not so great a degree and was
now sound again. Robert aged 8, both legs off

(29:12):
below the knees. Edward aged 4 years, both feet
off. An infant, four months.
Old, dead. The father was attacked about a
fortnight after the rest of the family, and in a slight degree,
the pain being confined to his fingers.
Two fingers of the right hand continued for a long time,
discolored and partly shrunk andcontracted, but he subsequently

(29:32):
had some use of them. The nails of the other hand were
discolored. He lost two of them.
It is remarkable during all the time of this.
Misfortune, that the whole. Family is said to have appeared
well in other respects, ate heartily and slept well when the
violence of the pain began to abate.
The mother was quite emaciated and had very little use of her
hands. The eldest girl had a

(29:52):
superficial ulcer in one thigh. The rest of the family were
pretty well. The stumps of some of them
healed perfectly. This does seem like a very
mysterious malady, but my best guess is that a nest of some
kind of terrible spiders, maybe black widows or brown recluses
hatched in the laundry basket orsomething like that.

(30:13):
And when putting on their hosiery, socks, shoes, stuff
like that, all of the family members were bitten.
Well, that concludes this episode of the weekly Penny
Dreadful Radio Hour. I hope that you will join me
again this coming Sunday, same Spring Hill time, same Spring

(30:34):
Hill Channel, for our next full episode of the Penny Dreadful
Variety Hour. Next on the program, we've got
Chapter 16 of The Black Band or The Companions of Midnight by
Mary Elizabeth Bradden, which was first published in 1861, and
chapter 16 of Springhill Jack, the Terror of London by Alfred
Coats, which was first publishedin 1866.

(30:57):
In The Black Band, millionaire Robert Merton is very excited.
He finally gets to have a quiet dinner alone with his wife, the
lovely Lady Edith. She, though, is pale and seems
very nervous. It actually looks like maybe
she's going to try and use that little file of poison that
Colonel Bertrand gave her at theball the night before.
Will she come to her senses in time to avoid a terrible

(31:19):
mistake? Will Robert Merton die?
Will she get away with it? We'll see.
In Spring Hill Jack, we cut backto the libertine who we saw
badgering the poor ballet girl 2chapters ago.
Now he is being upbraided by a very young Pretty Woman who we
learn is actually his old fancy piece, the one that he wished to

(31:40):
kick to the curb in favor of theballet girl.
She is a nice girl who he ruinedwith the kind of Fair promises
that he's been laying on the ballet dancer.
Now he's ready to cast her asideand move on to a new toy, but
she has a surprise for him and he is not going to like it.
All that, plus more fun Late Regency early Victorian goodies

(32:02):
are coming your way in three nights at Dick Turpin, Scragging
hour, 5:37 PM, AKA 1737 Militarytime this Sunday Eve.
Before we nizzle, I've got a couple of announcements.
First, the Professor Flash's Flash Academy stuff.
I'm dropping it. I have found that adding robber

(32:24):
songs to the lineup involves enough flash without me
complicating the program by picking various random phrases
to flog. I will continue explaining the
flash terms as they pop up in songs and such and in the
introductory pattern at the start of each episode, though.
The other thing I want to say is, OK, look, the Victorian age
was a complicated thing. It was.
Just to borrow a little phrase from one of its best

(32:47):
practitioners, the best of timesand the worst of times.
There was some guttery, crass stuff, supper club songs about
whores farting in their patrons faces, stories of lawless
aristocrats reveling in their impunity from prosecution as as
they romp around on a spree. You know, treating cops and
Watchmen and landlords and beggars like non player

(33:07):
characters in their great. Stupid video game of life.
You know, like upper class twitsdo today.
There was some true crime stuff that was almost like murder
porn, reveling in the most luriddescriptions of horrible murder
and cataclysm. So I thinks, hey, maybe it would
be a good idea to add an episodeand make this a thrice weekly
show and sort of quarantine the worst stuff to a particular day

(33:29):
of the week. We could have a one hour show on
Sundays that's just penny dreadfuls, none of it
particularly horrid or salacious.
Say 2 chapters of penny dreadfulserials plus a funny piece out
of an 18 fifties humor magazine,a ghost story out of the
terrific register, maybe a relatively safe for work supper
club song. Then on Tupany terrible Tuesday,

(33:50):
we could have all that is salacious and scandalous and or
disgusting in a sexual and or. Scatological way.
We start right away with the dreadful chapter so that if
skeezy Victorian sex talk isn't your jam, it's easy to listen to
the chapter from the Dreadful and then skip the rest.
The same with what I'm going to call Hapeni Horrid Hersday.

(34:11):
The theme this time will be death and murder and true crime
stuff. So basically Tom about turning
this into a thrice weekly podcast, a main penny dreadful
hour on Sunday, and 1/2 hour in which the skanky sexy stuff is
quarantined into Tuesday and themurder, death and smoking meth
stuff is allocated to Thursday. I've so much convinced myself of

(34:32):
the advisability of this plan that I'm going to launch it
forth with starting next week. I can't promise that I will
continue it, but I'm hoping thatit will work out well.
That is to say that there will not be a Hate me Horde hers day
the day after tomorrow, but the following week there will and we
shall see how it works out in terms of my workflow and
audience reception. I can't wait.
I hope it works. If it does, it will enable all

(34:53):
my listeners who are uncomfortable with the
remarkably and sometimes tediously androcentric Victorian
sensibilities around sex and what you might call pornology to
simply opt out by clicking Next on Tuesdays.
And listeners whose mirror neurons make minute descriptions
of dismemberment and decapitation actually physically
painful can do the same thing onThursdays.

(35:16):
Win, win, win, and I hope you'llagree.
All right, now I've prattled on enough.
Let's close up shop and slide into the outro now.
Our theme music is a version of Golden Slippers, A minstrel show
song written by James A Bland in1879.
This version is by Seattle old time band $4.00 Shoe.
For more of their music, see $4.00 shoe.com.

(35:38):
That's the number 4, the word dollar and the word shoe all
crammed together into one word and all lowercase.com.
The Penny Dreadful Variety Hour is a creation of pulp lit
productions. For more details of that, say
pulp-lit.com. To get in touch with me, hit me
up at finn@pulp-lit.com. Thanks again for joining me Nabs
mine once again, it is mizzle intime for the Penny Dreadful

(36:02):
Variety Hour. I'm Finn, JD John signing off
and now go fill up the rest of the week with all that is the
tippy. Bye now.
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