THE HORRENDOUS STORY OF THOMAS BRIGGS
By BRIAN LEMIN

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Hello!  My name is Thomas Briggs, I am 69 years old and in 1864 ,something terrible happened to me.  I wont be able to tell you all of the story but when I come to the end of my part, I will hand you over to a person who did me a great favour after the incident; William Tanner. I am the chief clerk at Messer’s Robart and Co. a City of London banking firm situated in Lombard Street.  Don’t conjure up images of Charles Dickens picture of scrooge sat a large desk ruling with an iron hand has he dipped his quill into the ink pot.  No, I was not like that. Surely I was strict, you had to be with some of the young educated upstarts that joined the firm but the atmosphere was just a little more relaxed in these modern times.  I understand from certain sources that I am highly regarding at my place of work.  Secretly I like the young clerks, and I liked some of them more than others, but I could never show any favouritism.  They had a respect for age and experience, which is more than what I can say about the chief character in the story that I am about to relate you.  I sometimes see these young clerks coming to work on train I catch regularly from Hackney to Fenchurch Street, which is then but a short walk to Lombard Street. I live in Hackney with my son, in a house adjacent to Victoria Park, and I live what most people would call, a quiet life.  Why not at my age?  I do have a wide circle of friends and on the Saturday night about which I my story revolves I had been invited to relatives for dinner. It had been a pleasant July day, the ninth day of the month, to be correct.  I had left work in the City and went to Peckham to where my relatives lived.  It was nice to end the working week in such a manner.  We worked long hours and six days a week, so many of us used to arrange pleasant Saturday evenings for relaxation.

The young clerks got up to all sorts of mischief but being an older person I enjoyed the more simple things of life, like dining with relatives. We had a more than a pleasant meal, good conversation and a very nice port to finish the meal.  We did not hurry, and after the meal we men relaxed with a pipe of tobacco and of course we enjoyed good conversation with the ladies.  Time came for me to go home to Hackney.  It was not too long a journey and I had done it many times before.  I left their modest home and walked down a few gas light streets until I came upon the station.  I had timed it just right as I was barely on the platform when the engine steamed in and stopped with much squealing of the metal on metal brakes.  I got into a first class compartment that I had all to myself.  You may remember that in those days there was no corridor connecting the compartments and I was lucky to have a compartment to myself.  I placed my top hat and my Gladstone bag on the luggage rack overhead but decided to keep my rather substantial walking stick with me in case it may have fallen on top of me due to a sudden motion of the train.  Thus organised I settled into a corner seat near a door, where I could control the opening and shutting of the window, as the smoke which poured into the carriage when we went through a tunnel was most unpleasant.  I had my back to the engine to avoid any cinders blowing into my eyes by accident and which allowed me to watch the lights of the London suburbs disappear through the carriage window.  I took a pinch of snuff, unfolded my newspaper, and settled down for the journey ahead. As the train left the station with much chuffing and slipping of the wheels on the track, I checked my watch for the time.  I had the pleasure of owning a lovely gold pocket watch on a gold chain.

I wore it, as was the custom, in one of the pockets of my waistcoat, secured by the chain which was also secured to the waistcoat by passing a small gold bar through one of the button holes as the remainder of the chain went into the pocket opposite.  The two gentle curves of the gold chain on either side of the waistcoat buttonhole looked very grand as I walked around the office.  I decided that, being a pleasant July evening that I would leave my top coat undone for the journey.  I was feeling good.  A good weeks work, a nice meal, an excellent port wine and now a relaxed journey home.  The carriage was poorly lit but whilst I had an inclination to sleep I decided to try and read my newspaper instead.  My reading was soon shown to be rather half hearted, because I discovered myself nodding off from time to time. We stopped at a couple of stations and then at Bow.  As I have said I had been dozing on and off during the journey and the stop at Bow was no exception. I had checked the station we had arrived at, shut my eyes again when I heard the door of my compartment open and close.  Through my half open eyes I noticed a quite well dressed young man enter my carriage. Now my story really begins, because, no sooner had the train left the station; the young man hurled himself upon me with great force, snatching at my gold watch a chain clearly with the objective of robbing me.  I was not the sort of person to allow this to happen without something of a fight.  By now he had my watch in his possession, and though he was much younger than I, we wrestled and punched each other for what must have been quite a short time as the journey to the next station, was four minutes.  I recall being flat on my back on one of te carriage seats and my assailant above me bringing a walking stick, mine I think, down upon my head.  From this time on I remember nothing more….ever!