Times Archive Blog

Death by plum pudding - Christmas Day in the workhouse

The sentimental monologue by George Sims about a poor woman who starved rather than be separated from her husband at Christmas by the cruel officers of the Victorian workhouse has wrung many a heart. The husband bursts in on the do-gooding visitors as they watch the workhouse inmates eating their Christmas dinner, and berates them for  their smugness.

Yes, there in a land of plenty, lay a loving woman dead.
Cruelly starved and murdered for a loaf of the parish bread

The workhouse Christmas dinner was an annual institution, and the well-wishers of the poor did indeed visit, to make sure the recipients were duly grateful. The Times published an annual report of exactly what victuals had been enjoyed by the inmates, parish by parish, so there must have been some competition to make the offerings sound good. Generally, there was an allowance of beef, potatoes, plum pudding and, for the lucky ones, some snuff and tobacco, and a good pint of London porter.

Marylebone Parish: Number of outdoor poor about 6,500. Christmas fare, 1lb of roast beef free from bone, 1lb of potatoes and bread, one pint of porter, and 1lb of plumpudding, with 1 ounce of tea, sugar extra to each adult. The children are fed at the discretion of the master, and in the evening are allowed to partake of various amusements at the expense of the guardians, who had fruit and sweetmeats provided for them.

But the residents of the workhouses were, comparatively, the lucky ones.

Epic hunt for the first Giant Panda in captivity

Amazing: while the VIP pandas currently en route from Beijing to Taiwan are being escorted by 500 guards in case some loony decides to assassinate them, 80 years ago, Theodore Roosevelt and his brother Kermit, achieved fame and admiration when, “after weeks of privation [they] put up and shot a fine adult male Panda in a snowstorm”.

The Giant Panda was a legend, with only a few dead examples, skeletons, skin or stuffed, ever having been seen by western eyes, so it’s possible that this sounded like a fair fight instead of possibly the easiest kill in sporting history.

The first living specimen, destined for the Bronx Zoo in New York was taken in 1936. The Times reported breathlessly that a Giant Panda cub had been “captured alive” – and by a woman! “After an epic hunt”, the cub had been tracked down by Mrs Harkness, widow of an explorer who had died while on the same mission:

Van Gogh's cruellest cut

So, what did Van Gogh say when they offered him a cup of tea?
“No thanks, I’ve got one ear.”

Today is the 120th anniversary of Vincent's aural amputation. He struggled on for two years before killing himself, whereupon he quickly achieved the fame and fortune he’d missed out on in life.

But not in England. It was a good 20 years before Van Gogh really registered with the British public, thanks to Roger Fry’s Post-Impressionist exhibitions at the Grafton Gallery. The first show, in 1910, was pilloried in The Times. It’s very easy to laugh at critics who completely miss the point of something new, but this review really takes the biscuit [click on the links to read the original reviews].

This is the name given, for want of a better, to a group of painters who have been making themselves talked about in Paris for some years past, and who have now found a committee daring enought to "present" their works at the Grafton Gallery. Visitors to the Salon d'Automne and to the "Independants" of a few years ago know them pretty well, and have probably formed their own opinion already. For such as have not, here is the Grafton, and here is the catalogue, with its cleverly-written Preface, trying to prove that the pictures are not only art, but almost the only logical art, the only possible art, at the present day ...

Now Mr Fry is a distinguished scholar and critic, who has made a name by his writings on Bellini and the older art - writings at once sane and learned. It is to be feared that when he lends his authority to an exhibition of this kind, and gives it to be understood that he regards the work of Gauguin and Matisse as the last word in art, the final expression of the genius of today, other writers of less sincerity will follow suit and try to persuade people that the Post-Impressionists are fine fellows, and that their art is the thing to be admired. They will even declare all who do not agree with them to be reactionaries of the worst type.

Top 20 Archive stories of 2008

1. 1888 murder map of London

It was the year when Jack the Ripper cast his reign of terror all over London and jumpy citizens were quick to find his work in every back street and bar-room brawl. But before the Ripper’s gruesome killings in the East End came to obsess the public imagination, everyday death in the capital had gone on its own sad way, with jealous husbands, suicidal women and dastardly thieves coming to sticky ends all over town

2. Execution of the Queen of France, October 23, 1793

It is with sincere regret that we confirm the report of yesterday, respecting the fate of this unfortunate Princess [Marie Antoinette], who suffered under the axe of the guillotine on Wednesday last

3. Russians march into Czechoslovakia, August 21, 1968

Prague radio announced early today that troops of the Soviet Union, Poland and East Germany started to cross the Czechoslovak border at 11 o'clock last night without the knowledge of the Czechoslovak President, the Chairman of the National Assembly, or the First Secretary of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia

Can the name Hitler ever be neutral?

Three cheers for the principled cake-makers of Holland Township, New Jersey, for refusing to waste their icing sugar writing Happy Birthday Adolf Hitler on a birthday cake. Little Adolf Hitler Campbell was apparently given his name because, as his brain-challenged father explained, no one else in the world would have it. And he can't see what the fuss is about: "Other kids get their cake," he complained. "I get a hard time. It's not fair to my children. How can a name be offensive?"

Maybe this'll give you a clue, Mr Campbell. Here's the account of the other Adolf Hitler's birthday celebrations in April, 1939. Along with the ghastly plywood swastikas and papier mache eagles, processions of SS cadets and the wearers of the infamous Blood Order, comes a telling little quote from Goebbels:

   

In a speech to the people broadcast this evening from all German stations the Minister of Propaganda, Dr Goebbels, said that there was no one on the globe who could remain indifferent to the name "Hitler." For some that name meant hope, faith, and future, for others it was the object of distorted hate, base lies, and cowardly calumny ...

Remains to be seen if nominative determinism - the idea that there is a link between people's names and their occupation (read Comment Central's ten examples) - will pay out in little Adolf's case, but with a sister called Aryan Nation you can bet his parents are hoping.

History doesn't relate whether big Hitler got a cake, but he was sung to sleep by the choir of his own SS bodyguard from the courtyard of the Chancery.

How to be frugal and festive

Desperate housewives trying to keep Christmas merry in the dark days of wartime rationing were issued with plenty of helpful advice by the Ministry of Food. Have a look at the wonderful Christmas recipes that Times Online food editor Nick Wyke has dug out of the Archive. There's even a quiz, to test you on your arcane knowledge of powdered milk.

You might not want to go as far as knocking up mock cream out of margarine and custard powder, but the general spirit of making do isn't a bad one for these times. There are some more gems from the austerity years here too. Why not try out the Prune roly poly, or the Farmhouse scramble?

Murder in the family

Sean Mercer, the killer of Rhys Jones, is apparently descended from another murderer. According to the Daily Mail,  Mercer's great-great grandfather was John Maguire, who was convicted in 1929 of killing his wife, Ellen, by slitting her throat and then stabbing her in the back. Maguire, described in The Times as a fruit hawker, was sentenced to death and hanged at Walton goal. You can read the original Times report of the sentence here.

Also in the Archive blog:
Could you be descended from a famous murderer?

Six bad santas – and one sad one

Santa suits and crime go together like turkey and stuffing. In case anyone thought Billy Bob Thornton’s Bad Santa was a far-fetched invention, here are some festive, and not so festive criminal enterprises featuring the Man in Red.

1. Father Christmas robs a bank

Subtitled "A story from Texas", this 1927 Christmas Eve bank heist went seriously wrong when the robbers grabbed a bunch of schoolchildren to use as human shields. Bullets went flying all over the place anyway ...

A band of robbers, with their leader disguised as Santa Claus, raided the National Bank here today, and after "scooping up" $10,000, herded a number of little children together to shield themselves from the flying bullets. One of the raiders was shot in the head while endeavouring to climb into a waiting motor-ear, and the chief of police, the vice-president of the bank, and a police- man were wounded, but none of the children was hurt, save possibly one little girl, who the police fear was carried away by the robbers. The money was subsequently recovered, but the raiders themselves escaped.

But not for long. Evidently the ringleaders at least were caught and jailed, and two years on came this gruesome postscript:

Charles Ponzi and his scheme

The sensational rise and fall of Charles Ponzi attracted some attention this side of the Atlantic. The Times christened him the "whirlwind financier", and on July 28, 1920, reported on an amazing "get-rich-quick" scheme [click on the links for the original Times reports]:

An amazing "get-rich-quick" scheme, whereby Mr Charles Ponzi, a short time ago a relatively poor man, now estimates his wealth at upwards of £1,700,000, has attracted the attention of the public authorities of Boston.
The extraordinary feature of the case is that the authorities are not at all certain that Mr Ponzi's operations are in any way illegal, and have only called a halt until his accounts, which run into millions of dollars, can be audited.

Unabashed, a couple of weeks later, Ponzi had an irresistible offer for the public:

Mr Charles Ponzi, of Boston, whose manipulation of the foreign exchange market has been a nine days' sensation, will launch his new co-operative world trading scheme on Monday ...

It is estimated that Mr Ponzi has paid out more then $1,000,000 and in every case the holders of matured notes have received 50 per cent of interest

Ponzi had started off his scheme by using variations in foreign exchange rates to trade in international reply coupons, but there was now no end to the variety of investment areas on offer:

Mr Ponzi's new ventures include the importation of diamonds on a large scale, the exportation of a cheap motor-car to be known as the " Wales," the establishment of shipping lines, and of a chain of banks.

According to Mr Ponzi, enormous profits can be made by the purchase of diamonds in Italy at 500 lire per carat, which at the current exchange, and with the import duty added, would mean about $40 per carat here, or one-fifth of the actual market value.

Christmas fun, maybe

The “Crapland” stories got this year’s Christmas off to the traditional start. Shudders and sniggers all round Fleet Street at the sorry prospect of punters queuing for hours in wet fields to catch Santa snorfing a fag round the back of his grotty grotto.

They did Christmas entertainment better in the old days, even without trading standards officers. But still, the lofty disdain of the 1907 Times journalist, packed off to Olympia to see what thrills were being provided for the populace, has a familiar sort of ring:

Olympia has, for the second year in succession, been converted into a "mammoth fun city," the gates of which will be opened today to those in search of diversion.

There’s something so damning in that word “diversion”. It gets worse:

Jack the baboon mascot

Thanks to My [confined] Space  for this great pic and biog of Jackie, the baboon mascot of the South African Brigade fighting in France in 1918.

There's a reference to Jackie, or Jack to The Times, at the end of a long report on troop morale from April 1918  (you'll have to click on the "read plain text" link at the bottom of the article viewer because the report goes over two pages):

A curious detail of the casualties is that in one of the base hospitals now there lies in (or at least on) a bed, with other honourably wounded heroes, one Jack the Baboon, the mascot of the South African Brigade. He lost a leg and is wounded in one arm, but he has stood an operation and treatment well and is said to be a most amenable and gentle patient.