Tricky thing, neighbours. You can never get away from that. But then, it was ever thus. Events in 1888 in Wales rather prove that point.
Let’s start in Maindy, where Daniel Dew, a labourer from Cardiff, was summoned for assaulting Mary Gibbs. They had met each other, by chance, in a mutual neighbour’s house, where a quarrel began, during which foul language was freely interchanged. Yes, I know. Bad language in Maindy? Hard to believe, isn’t it? So, thus provoked, Daniel hit Mary and knocked her over the back of a sofa, breaking two of its legs. I am sure we have all had similar trouble with self-assembly furniture. Mary though, was less damaged and pulled herself up in order to hit him on the head with a washing bowl. No damage to the bowl was reported, but Dew was fined five shillings for assault. Diw, diw, as they say.
It isn’t always any better if the neighbours are relatives. The South Wales Echo on 16 March reported that Walter Bayliss, a labourer in Newport, was summoned for assaulting his sister-in-law, Mary Marsh. He and his wife Nancy, Mary’s sister had once rented rooms in her house in Jeddo Street. Now they were neighbours, but they, allegedly, still owed Mary rent money, which had done nothing to foster warm sisterly relations, and feelings were running high. A police summons had been taken out against Nancy for creating a disturbance in front of Mary’s house, but Walter had nailed it to his sister-in-law’s front door and tried to get into the house to discuss their disagreement in a mature and sensible way. Well, perhaps not. But he and Nancy couldn’t get in, so they went around to the end of the street, vaulted over all the neighbours’ garden walls, and got into Mary’s house through the back door when they both attacked her. In response she took a hot poker out of the fire and threatened them with the glowing end until they backed out of the house. Such unsisterly conduct indeed, let alone unneighbourly conduct. Walter, who in court had been represented by his wife, was fined 10s, with the alternative of seven days’ imprisonment. It would be interesting to know what he decided to do when offered the opportunity for a week of reflection away from his defence counsel.
However, things were much more serious in Bala, as reported in The Cambrian News and Merionethshire Standard, also on 16 March 1888, when an argument about chickens had terrible and unforeseen consequences.
Elizabeth Evans and Ann Jones had never got on and in March 1888 they quarrelled once again across the garden fence that separated their cottages at the Penrhos Isa, though in truth that fence was nothing more than chicken wire. Ann, who was 42, had nine children whilst Elizabeth had none. This might in fact be at the heart of their fractious relationship since nine noisy children next door might have been something that Elizabeth wasn’t used to. She was 51 years old and perhaps enjoyed a quieter life. Much was made later of her background. Her mother, it was said, was for many years an inmate of Denbigh Asylum, where she died. It was also rumoured that Elizabeth had also spent a short period of time there, prior to her marriage.
It was certainly the case that neighbourly relations were not very positive and it is clear that on this occasion she wasn’t too happy with Ann’s ill-disciplined chickens at all.
This argument began when the birds trespassed in Elizabeth’s garden. It must obviously have happened before, because that is what you get with chickens, which seem to have a limited understanding of property law. Elizabeth threw stones at them to drive them away and, when one of the younger Jones girls complained about it, she slapped her face and made her cry. Ann rushed outside to remonstrate and, as the argument progressed, she picked up a broom handle leaning against the wall and threw it at her neighbour, but missed her target. Elizabeth picked it up and threw it back with such force and from close range that when it struck Ann, it fractured her skull. She fell dead instantly.
Elizabeth went back inside her cottage but when she saw that Ann had not moved, she went and cradled her head. She later confessed to what she had done to the police, believing she would be hanged for it.
I struck Ann Jones with the broomstick on the head. She and the children were constantly annoying me about the fowls, and calling me all sorts of bad names; no peace could I get from them. Ann Jones threw the broomstick at me first. I picked it up and flung it back at her, knocking her on the top of the head. I then went into the house and the next thing I saw was Ann Jones lying on the ground and heard the little girl say My mother is killed.
The story was corroborated by Ann’s daughter, Alice, who had seen it all happen and gave evidence at the inquest. She began her testimony with these moving, poignant words, in Welsh of course, ‘I remember the time when my mother died. It was yesterday.’
The coroner concluded, when neighbours did fall out their enmity was generally of a very bitter kind. Too right.
Elizabeth was remanded without bail until she appeared at the Assizes in July when the jury returned a verdict of guilty of manslaughter, but since she had been in prison awaiting trial for four months, he passed a sentence of a day’s imprisonment.
As they say, Good Fences Good Neighbours make – unless, of course, those fences are made from chicken wire.
