Inspector of Nuisances

Chapter 1 - Cowkeeper Benjamin Jones
Our cowkeeper, Benjamin Jones, likely taken in the 1860s, some time after his first run-in with the Inspector of Nuisances.

Some Victorian occupations have such colourful names you just can’t resist finding out more. That was the case when we came upon the term “Inspector of Nuisances.” John Errington was the first such inspector for Southwark, and from the 1850s  on he prowled the streets south of the Thames sniffing out foul smells and unsanitary conditions, and bringing them to the attention of the Medical Officer of Health. We first discovered him in 1855, when he accused our great-great-great grandfather, Benjamin Jones, of keeping his stables in a deplorable condition and allowing dung and filth to accumulate in his yard.

Twenty years later Errington was still a thorn in Benjamin’s side; he’d had complaints from a local business to which Benjamin supplied milk, so he hid in the office of that establishment one day, and when Benjamin arrived with his delivery, Errington popped out and declared himself, and took the sample away for testing. It was discovered to be more than half water, and deemed an egregious case.

St Saviour's Board of Works copy
Courtesy the Wellcome Library

Scanning through newspapers, and through health reports available at the Wellcome Library, it seems this was a typical part of Errington’s work. If you sold bad fish or rotten cherries, he’d be after you if he found out about it, for his mission was “the discovery and abatement of nuisances” and the protection of the public’s health. And in an area so steeped in poverty, there was plenty to put that health in danger.

In June of 1866, he received a complaint about an “intolerable effluvium” coming from a house in Gravel Lane. Upon inspecting, he discovered the premises belonged to an undertaker named Mr. Hodges, who was in possession of a female body dead some three weeks. The corpse was rapidly decomposing, and Errington found the stench unbearable. Neighbours were decidedly anxious.

But Hodges claimed he was in a difficult position. A fortnight earlier, two sisters had come to him and asked him to remove their mother’s body from the workhouse, where she had died a week before; he took their word that they would pay the transport and burial expenses, and fetched the body and put it in his shed. Later the sisters denied having promised to pay him, and he was a poor man, he told Errington, and could not afford to pay the expenses himself. So the body sat there, decomposing further each day.

When the sanitary committee met to discuss the issue, Mr. Hodges was ordered to bury the woman at once, or face charges. He could “make the relatives pay the necessary expenses afterwards,” though there was no suggestion as to how he might do that, given it seems he’d already tried. And with their mother finally interred, what motivation would there be for the sisters to pay?

So many questions arise from this one little story. Under the Anatomy Act, unclaimed bodies of workhouse inmates, prisoners and so on could be used for medical research. Was this why the dead woman’s daughters wanted their mother removed from the workhouse? And did they wish to avoid the stigma of a so-called pauper burial? Was Hodges telling the whole truth as he knew it? Were the sisters as heartless as Hodges suggests? Or so poor that they couldn’t afford to bury their mother, despite best intentions? And if so, why didn’t the parish cover the costs in the end? Presumably they would have if she’d been left unclaimed at the workhouse.

Sadly the topic of bodies unburied wasn’t new to Errington and the Medical Officer of Health for whom he worked. Dr. Robert Bianchi, in hearing Hodges’ tale, reflected on another Southwark death two years earlier: a family had vacated their lodgings and left a body behind. Bianchi himself paid for the burial, “as no one else would do it.”


*See also my article “Dirt, Disease and the Inspector of Nuisances” at the Wellcome Collection.


  • “A Dead Body Unburied for Three Weeks.” South London Press, 16 June, 1866
  • Medical Officer of Health Reports, Southwark. Wellcome Library

22 thoughts on “Inspector of Nuisances

      1. Wendy Spencer

        Wow! Can’t wait to read it, have just finished watching on Net Flicks :DICKENSIAN STORIES IN THAT TIME FRAME. oUR BOOK CLUB WILL BE READING IT VERY SOON, tHANKS TO YOUR WONDERFUL M OM! from Wendy Spencer–Deep River friend!

        Liked by 3 people

      2. kristendenhartog

        Thanks for your good wishes Wendy! I will check out the Dickensian stories too. We’d be happy to visit the book club when the time comes. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      3. tracykasaboski

        Hi Wendy. Glad to hear your book club will be reading The Cowkeeper’s Wish. Maybe these posts will get them prepared!


  1. Another interesting story. The Victorian era contains a multitude of stories waiting to be told. I had a teacher who read Jane Eyre to us. I always remember her saying that if we dreamt of living in those times we would be rich with fabulous clothes etc. But that we would probably be living in slums!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Marrying your uncle, and other brow-raisers – The Cowkeeper's Wish

  3. Rose

    Hello from England: I saw in a newspaper y’day, for the first time, a mention of an Inspector of Nuisances. Googling it, I found your book! It looks great and I am excited about being able to buy it on 9 March 2019. Thank you from Rose.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. How nice! That’s just lovely to hear. Please let us know what you think! I have another piece coming out soon about nuisance inspectors, and will post a link to it on this blog when that happens. Thanks so much for getting in touch, Rose!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Pingback: London’s Houses Falling Down – The Cowkeeper's Wish

  6. Pingback: Part 2: Ellen Shelley, the undertaker’s daughter – The Cowkeeper's Wish

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