16 November 2020

A Disposition to Riot

Between 1799 and 1801 food riots, brought on by scarcity and high prices which in turn had been caused by poor harvests and the effects of Napoleon’s continental blockade, regularly broke out throughout England. With imports being limited, grain was at a premium which increased the price of bread, the cost of a loaf jumping to an all time high of 1s.9d, while other foods such as butter and cheese saw similar hefty hikes in price, a situation not helped by greedy profiteers inflating prices further still. As many of the poor working classes lived off a diet in which bread and other basics played a major part, any serious increase in their prices was bound to cause problems and spark often violent protests. London, Birmingham, Oxford, Nottingham, Coventry, Norwich, Stamford, Portsmouth, Sheffield and Worcester, amongst other places all saw bouts of rioting at this time and the Potteries too suffered several outbreaks.

A satirical cartoon depicting a fat 'forestaller' being dragged along by a rope round his neck by a chain of countrymen, to the cheers of a crowd. On of them shouts: “How much now you rogue in grain?” Illustration by Isaac Cruikshank
A satirical cartoon depicting a fat 'forestaller' being dragged along by a rope round his neck by a
 chain of countrymen, to the cheers of a crowd. Illustration by 
Isaac Cruikshank

On Monday 28 April 1800, a serious food riot broke out after a mob assembled at Lane End and seized a quantity of potatoes, flour and other goods, which they quickly shared out among themselves. The rioting became so serious and alarming that the local Volunteers were called out and the Riot Act was read, though to little effect. So the authorities had to get tough and the Volunteers were sent to capture the ringleaders and after a scuffle seven people were dragged off to Stafford gaol guarded by a party of the Newcastle and Pottery troop of Cavalry. They were William Hatton, William Doukin (or Dowkin), William Myatt, Solomon Harding, Emma Vernon, Ann Goodwin and Sarah Hobson, all of whom were subsequently sent for trial at the Stafford Assize in August. Most were acquitted, but 29 year old Emma Vernon also known as Emma Berks or Amy Burke, who was identified as the chief troublemaker, was found guilty of riotous assembly 'with other persons above the number twelve, and continuing together for one hour after Proclaimation'. 

At the time rioting was a capital offence and Emma was initially sentenced to be hanged on 30 August at Stafford, but on 13 August her sentence was commuted to one of transportation for 21 years to Australia. In June 1801, Emma Berks (alias Emma Vernon, Amy Burke) was one of 297 prisoners transported aboard the curiously named ship Nile, Canada and Minorca, which arrived in New South Wales on 14 December 1801. She would never return, dying in Australia on 1 July 1818, aged 47.

The April riot, though, was not the last to plague the area and in late September more trouble broke out. The Staffordshire Advertiser, whilst praising the exemplary fortitude of the locals during the ongoing food crisis, was dismayed to report 'that since Monday last [22 September] a disposition to riot has manifested itself in various parts of the Potteries.' Miners and potters were reported to have assembled in large groups and going to local food shops had seized provisions and sold them on at what they considered fairer prices. A troop of the 17th Light Dragoons quartered at Lane End, the Trentham, Pottery and Stone Troops of Yeomanry Cavalry, plus the Newcastle and Pottery Volunteers had been repeatedly called out to deal with these infractions and thus far had managed to keep a lid on the situation, curbing any dangerous acts by the mobs. Indeed, the only overtly violent act that the Advertiser could report was that one boy had been seized for hurling stones and was taken into custody. More pleasingly it was noted that some the inhabitants of Hanley and Shelton in an effort to stamp out the blatant profiteering at the root of the troubles, had made a collective resolution not to buy butter from anyone selling at more than 1 shilling per lb and various communities around the Potteries were following suit. Prior to this butter had been shamefully priced at 16d or 17d per lb. The Marquis of Stafford also stepped in and ordered his tenants to thresh their wheat and take it to market, which many did, selling it at the reasonable price of 12s per strike [i.e. 2 bushels]. The paper lauded such actions and hoped that it would promote further reductions in prices. Certainly it quelled the growing unrest in the area and by the the next edition of the paper the Potteries had returned to 'a state of perfect tranquillity', with 'the pleasing prospect of the necessaries of life being much reduced in price.'

(Staffordshire Advertiser, 3 May 1800, p.4; 23 August 1800, p.4; 30 August 1800, p.4; 27 September 1800, p.4; 4 October 1800, p.4)

27 September 2020

Peace Celebrations 1814

Napoleon Bonaparte
Author's collection
On 6 April 1814, with the last of his armies defeated and Allied forces fast closing on Paris, Napoleon Bonaparte the self proclaimed Emperor of France gave into pressure and abdicated. Several days later the peace was ratified at the Treaty of Fontainebleau and two decades of almost constant war in continental Europe were seemingly brought to an end. Some days more passed before the news reached Britain but when it did the country celebrated in style with parties and merrymaking. The numerous towns and villages of the Potteries were not left out and the Staffordshire Advertiser gave this initial brief overview of the local festivities, which as indicated would be followed a week later by a longer and much more detailed account of proceedings.

'When our express left the Potteries yesterday, the inhabitants of that populous manufacturing district were in the height of their rejoicings. Most of the manufacturers were giving dinners, &c. to their workmen: and the principal inhabitants dining together in parties at the Inns. At Stoke, in the morning, a numerous assemblage decorated with white favours, and displaying a profusion of flags, paraded the town. - Four fat sheep were roasted, which, with one hundred loaves of bread and four kilderkins of good ale, [i.e. 64 to 72 gallons] were distributed to those poor persons residing within the districts of Stoke, Fenton, &c. who were not to be partakers of the dinners given by the manufacturers to their respective servants. An illumination and display of fire-works, were to take place in the evening.

At Lane End, we understand, similar proceedings were adopted, and considerable preparations were making for a splendid illumination in the evening.

At Burslem, a subscription was entered into which produced nearly £800, an ox and two sheep were purchased, which were roasted whole in the market place, and the principal inhabitants assisted in carving and waiting upon those who chose to eat. 13 hogsheads of good ale succeeded. Sir John Barleycorn had an uninterrupted reign. The Gentlemen dined in the market hall, which was fitted up with much taste, and there was a splendid illumination at night.

At Hanley a large party of gentlemen dined together in the Market Hall, and we understand the principal Houses and Manufactories were to be illuminated in the evening, and a display of fire works to be let off.

At Etruria Manufactory, the workmen, (in number about 500) dined together in a large room at one o'clock. Mr. Wedgwood presided and the following toasts were drank (sic) with enthusiasm. The King – Prince Regent – Queen and Royal Family – Navy and Army of Great Britain – the Allied Sovereigns – Louis 18 – Field Marshal Wellington – a general and lasting Peace – Staffordshire Potteries – Commerce of Great Britain – Cause of Civil and Religious Liberty throughout the World – Land we live in, &c. The females were to be regaled with tea in the evening, & the apprentices have an adequate treat. In the village of Woolstanton a sheep was roasted and distributed with a proportionate quantity of ale to the poor inhabitants. At Tunstall the rejoicings take place this day. Our time is so limited we cannot enter into particulars, but hope to give an additional account in our next.'

Staffordshire Advertiser 23 April 1814, p.4

30 August 2020

Up, Up and Away

Balloonist Charles Green later in life.
Charles Green was quite a celebrity when he arrived in the Potteries in early October 1826. A pioneer balloonist, five years earlier, Green had become famous almost overnight when he made a special ascent into the air in his coal gas filled balloon at George IV's coronation. Since then he had become a professional balloonist, touring the country giving displays and allowing a lucky few to take a ride up with him. Now that thrill was open to the people in North Staffordshire and to one lucky passenger would fall the chance to make local history by joining Green in the first ever flight over the district.

The first ascent was to take place from Shelton late in the afternoon of Tuesday, 3rd October 1826. 'A vast concourse of persons' had assembled according to a reporter for the Staffordshire Advertiser. A carnival atmosphere prevailed, a band had been arranged to keep the onlookers entertained and enclosures had been set up for paying guests. The most exclusive of these for 'the most respectable inhabitants' was rather thinly populated at first, but started to fill up after 3 p.m., allaying fears that Green would not be fully compensated for his visit to the area. Another cheaper enclosure was also pretty well filled. Most of the locals, though, opted for a free view, an immense number of whom were camped out in surrounding fields, streets and yards, perched on roofs or leaning out of windows.

The weather was cloudy but favourable despite a brief shower which dampened those waiting for the launch. Half an hour or so before the main event a small pilot balloon was released to check on the wind direction, Green then got to work preparing the large crimson and gold striped main balloon for its trip over the Potteries. There was at this point some anxiety as to who, if anyone, would accompany Green on his historic flight. Some days earlier a suitable companion had been selected, but who this was is a mystery as the man backed out shortly before the launch and it seemed very likely that Green may have to go up alone. Indeed, the celebrated balloonist had clambered into the basket or 'car' as it was then called and was making his final adjustments prior to lift off, when the band suddenly struck up the popular Irish melody 'Fly not yet' to get his attention. A last-minute replacement had been found, the Reverend Benjamin Vale, perpetual curate of Stoke-upon-Trent had volunteered to go.

Vale was not a local having been born in London in 1787 and despite his religious credentials he seems to have been a rather prickly and erratic character, who was prone to rubbing people up the wrong way. Years earlier he had gone to Australia in hopes of setting up a ministry, but had left under a cloud when in a fit of misplaced patriotism he had illegally seized an American ship in Sydney Harbour, much to the annoyance of the local governor who had cleared the ship and who promptly sent Vale packing back to Britain. The rebuked clergyman had then served in his native London for a time before securing his position in Stoke. Years later he would become the Rector of St James Church, Longton, but his flock never seemed to have warmed to him and in 1842 his home fell prey to an angry mob during the Pottery Riots. Yet, whatever his other faults, Vale does not seem to have lacked in physical courage and after briefly justifying his decision with his anxious friends, to the applause of the onlookers he eagerly stepped forward to join Mr Green for this first historic trip.

Vale's friends crowded around the car when the clergyman had taken his seat and expressed their wishes for a safe journey. The balloon was allowed to rise into the air to a considerable height above the gathered crowd, ropes still holding it secure while it did so. Here, Mr Green released some ballast and dropped a parachute over the side attached to a basket that carried a cat, which floated safely back down to earth. After a short while suspended thus probably to give the crowd a good view of the 'buoyant and splendid machine', it was drawn back down to earth, two flags were handed over which were fixed at either end of the car, the ropes were released and with the band playing and crowd applauding the balloon rose gracefully into the air. To those on the ground the balloon remained in sight for about twenty minutes before vanishing into a cloud for ten minutes, then reappearing briefly in the distance as a dark-coloured ball. The rest of the journey was instead charted by Reverend Vale who subsequently wrote an account of the historic flight, which was printed in the Staffordshire Advertiser several days later. Shorn of its evangelical asides, it makes for an interesting first aerial view of the Potteries.

'At four o'clock the flags were presented to us, and we left the earth; the wind blowing rather to the north and east, and the barometer standing at 29.4. I continued to answer the salutations from below as long as I could distinguish particular objects, and afterwards occupied myself in general observations with Mr. Green without feeling a particular sensation of any kind. By degrees, the objects on earth became so small, that the most extensive manufactories appeared like so many mole hills,and the people appeared like so many black and white specks. I could not but think how truly ridiculous it was for men of immortal minds to weary themselves unnecessarily, and strive with each other for the possession of such mud-heaps as the establishments on earth now appeared to be; and I looked about with great anxiety to observe that humble church preferment which I was so anxious to obtain, and which many were so anxious to confer on me. I looked, however, in vain – it had already mingled in the obscurity of distance, and nothing remained but a huge dark sod, with a mud-heap where Hanley stood, and another where Lane-End might be supposed to stand.


One of Charles Green's balloons in 1836
At five minutes past four, the barometer standing at 26.2, we entered a very thick cloud of a yellowish white colour; we were then little more than half a mile high, i.e. 58; the cloud had a  peculiarity of taste which I am not now able to describe, and the feel of it was somewhat soapy. Having now lost sight of the earth, we adjusted the ballast, put out the grappling iron, and properly fastened it; Mr. Green then untied the mouth of the balloon, and I looked up into it, which from the pureness of the gas appeared to be empty. Mr. Green left the mouth of the balloon open, that as the gas might expand, it might find itself a passage downward through the mouth. When Mr. Green observed the balloon to become fully distended, he opened the valve and let out some of the gas; and as this led to me making some remarks about the valve, he permitted me at proper times to open the valve myself. The first time I opened the valve I think I did it with some hesitation, but opportunities multiplied and I went about it at last as if it had been my business.

At ten minutes past four, we were as near over Blithe Marsh Bridge, beyond Lane End, and then gliding into another current of air, we drifted towards Cellar Head. We now had a good view of the clouds beneath us, layer on layer, the last layer appearing to rest in sullen silence upon the earth, while all the rest appeared to move, each layer seeming to be directed by a peculiar current of air.

At fifteen minutes past four, we approached Werrington windmill, which we saw directly, and at the same time we heard the halloo and greetings of persons who were too much diminished by distance to be observed by us. The barometer then stood at 24.2, and our distance was nearly a mile, i.e. 98.

At twenty minutes past four, we passed over Consol Woods, and heard several guns fired, and had a good view of the bleak and hilly country over which we were about to pass.

At thirty minutes past four, we threw out ballast to check the descent of the balloon, which Mr. Green considered too rapid. We now held out the flags, and it was evident that we were going downwards, as the flags were blown upwards. I looked earnestly towards the earth to discover the first appearances again. What appeared narrow straight lines hardly distinguishable, turned out the be the King's highways; what appeared to be a mushroom, turned out to be a hay-stack; and what appeared to be a solitary bush, turned out to be a plantation or a wood. We again heard voices, and a curious humming sound, which Mr. Green explained as being produced by a shower of very small rain falling on the balloon; a sound which in his earlier experience, had very much alarmed him. We then crossed Churnet River, and the Canal in the neighbourhood of Belmont House, and saw the reflection of the balloon in the water. The rain had now condensed the gas, and the lower part of the balloon collapsed.

At thirty-five minutes past four, we found ourselves descending over a woody district, and threw out ballast in order to pass over it. As we ascended, we got into another current of air, which drove us rather southerly, between Ipstones and Kingsley. Here it was somewhat cold. A voice was now heard distinctly crying out “Come down, come down.” Mr. Green answered “Not yet.” and I vociferated “Silence.”  and I have since learned that a good hostess understanding Mr. Green to say “yes, yes,” and supposing me to say “mistress,” little thinking that she did not appear to us bigger than a pin's head, went in and fetched out some brandy to regale us. The barometer now stood at 23.1 and our distance was about a mile i.e. 1.2.

At forty minutes past four, the barometer stood at 20.1, so that our elevation then, (which was our highest elevation) was a little above two miles, i.e. 2,047. Mr. Green thought it proper here to tie the mouth of the balloon to keep out the atmospheric air; and he mounted on the very edge of the car to accomplish it; as it was not possible for him even so to reach it, I hung upon a cord my whole weight to bring the mouth of the balloon low enough, and in this manner it was effected. I now heard the sound of a horn, and Mr. Green heard the sound of carriage wheels, so that we concluded some public coach was passing, and we stooped a little from our elevation to examine the ground for a descent.

At fifty minutes past four, a heavy storm came on, and we were obliged to hasten our descent. Nothing but stone walls appeared to greet us in this moorland country, and we both prepared for the worst that could happen to us. Having come down low enough for the grapple to touch the earth, we called to the first object we saw to come and render us assistance. Two men that appeared were unable to overtake us. The grapple caught on a wall and dragged an immense part of it to the ground. Again we swept the distance of a long field, and again the grapple caught on another wall which it served as it did the first. In this manner our velocity was checked, and other persons coming up, we made a safe landing, after having been in the air, as near as possible, an hour, and having passed over at least 25 miles.' 
       


Reference: Staffordshire Advertiser 7 October 1826, p.4 ; J H Y Briggs, ' A Staffordshire Clergyman: The Reverend Dr Benjamin Vale,  L.L.D. (1787-1863)' in Staffordshire Studies (Keele, 1987) pp. 141-153.                                

13 June 2020

Ken Ray's Soldiers: Private William Walker

Ken Ray, a long-time researcher into the lives of local soldiers has assembled an impressive list of North Staffordshire men who served in the Napoleonic Wars, the Crimea and the numerous colonial conflicts Britain participated in during the 19th and early 20th centuries. He has very kindly given me access to some of his documents which chart the lives and careers of ordinary men from the region who might otherwise have been forgotten. This is one of those stories...

. . . .

Private William Walker, 1st Battalion 4th Foot (King's Own), 
Napoleonic Wars 

There were several men from the Potteries that we know of who served in Wellington's army in Portugal and Spain during the Peninsula War (1808-1814), but few had quite so impressive a record as Private William Walker of the 4th King's Own Regiment of Foot who saw action in virtually every major land battle fought by the British Army during the Napoleonic Wars. Most likely the son of John Walker and Elizabeth, nee Lawns, he was born in Burslem and baptised at Stoke-upon-Trent on 8th October 1775. William seems to have received little or no education and initially found work locally as a potter. How or why left the Potteries and suddenly arrived at Ashford in Kent is unknown, but it was there on 19th June 1799 that he enlisted for 'unlimited service' with the 1st Battalion 4th Foot, with which he would serve for the next two decades.

The uniform of the 4th Kings Own Regiment from 1799 to
1809, after which the breeches and stockings were replaced
with grey trousers.
From his own records at his discharge it is clear that Walker saw service almost immediately in an expedition to North Holland in 1799, under the Duke of York – the indecisive 'Grand Old Duke of York' of nursery rhyme fame. There his regiment took part in the fighting at Castricum on 6th October, a defeat where they suffered heavy casualties. Walker was one of these, receiving a gunshot wound in the left leg, but he survived, was evacuated back to Britain and spent the next few years on home service. In 1804, Walker's battalion served under a much better commander, the visionary General Sir John Moore at Shorncliffe, where they underwent a rigorous regime of training. From there in 1805, the 1st battalion went to Hanover and later served at the Battle of Copenhagen in 1807. The battalion was back with Sir John Moore in Sweden in 1808, when he was given command of the force sent to the Iberian peninsula to support Portugal and Spain against the French. However, after some initial successes by the Spanish to oust the French invaders, the arrival of Napoleon at the head of a massive army saw the effective collapse of the Spanish forces before them and Moore and his men, including Private Walker, were forced on a 200 mile retreat to Corunna on the northern Spanish coast. It was an epic, gruelling march through mountains thick with snow and the French in close pursuit, but because of the rigorous training they had received under Moore the 4th suffered less hardship than many units. On reaching the coast, Walker with his fellows fought in the Battle of Corunna on 16th January 1809. Sir John Moore was killed in the fighting, but the battle effectively blunted the French attempts to thwart the evacuation of the British Army.

The next year, though it receives no mention in his records, Walker was probably involved in another near disaster for the British, when the 4th Foot were sent on the Walcheren Expedition in an attempt to capture Antwerp. However, sickness quickly took a hold on the army causing many deaths and the expedition had to be abandoned. The 4th Foot suffered like the other regiments, but was one of the first of the Walcheren units to be sent to join Wellington's forces in the Peninsula, where the 1st Battalion joined the 5th Division at Torres Vedras near Lisbon in Portugal in November 1810. The following year the 4th Foot took part in the Battle of Fuentes de Onoro, but positioned on the far left of Wellington's line they took no active part in the fighting and received no casualties, though Walker was later to carefully add the battle to his list of engagements. Instead his real baptism of fire in this new phase of the Peninsula War would come in 1812.

The final attack on Badajoz, showing British troops assailing the walls with ladders
Having evicted the French from Portugal, two fortresses barred Wellington's safe passage into Spain. The storming of the first of these at Cuidad Rodrigo did not involve the 4th Foot, instead they with many others were sent against Badajoz in the north. A heavily fortified town that had already endured two sieges, Badajoz now underwent a severe bombardment to breach its walls before the troops were sent in. This took place on 6th April 1812 and saw Wellington's men put to their sternest test with four separate attacks made on the heavily defended breaches. The 5th Division of which the 4th Foot were a part, attacked the San Vincente bastion on the north-west corner of the town. Fighting their way through massed musketry, cannon fire, grenades, mines and lines of wooden poles dotted with blades and spikes, the 4th Foot were badly mauled, but managed with others to get over the wall and into the town, where they fell on the French defending the walls from other attacks and soon afterwards the town fell. The ordeal of Badajoz was not over, though, as driven into a frenzy by what they had endured the bulk of the British troops then went on a two-day rampage of looting, rape and murder through the town. Private Walker though, was not among them, as during the assault he had been shot in the neck and at some point nearby French soldiers had bayoneted him in the left arm and left leg and left him for dead. Again, he would live, but like most of the wounded Walker probably had to wait until the looting army had exhausted itself two days later before he got any medical treatment.

It is a testament to William Walker's toughness that by July 1812, he was back in the ranks and fit enough to take part in Wellington's long march and brilliant victory at Salamanca followed by his advance into Madrid. The following year, Walker fought in the battle of Vittoria which sounded the death-knell of the French army in Spain. Walker's record then reads almost like a tally of the clashes that finally pushed Napoleon's soldiers back over their own border – Palencia, San Sebastian, Bidassoa and Nive – all of which he seems to have passed through without any injury worth noting. The last action of the regiment before they swapped one war for another, was to help in the blockade of Bayonne just over the French border. Wellington's army was still there when news reached them of Napoleon's abdication and the war it seemed was over.

Released from the war in Europe, in May 1814, Walker's regiment was sent across the Atlantic to take part in the War of 1812 against the United States of America. He and his comrades were witness to great success at the battle of Bladensburg, where they helped rout the Americans, but disappointment and defeat at Baltimore and again at New Orleans, but a final success in the last clash of the war with the seizure of Fort Bowyer. By this time, though, the belated news that a peace treaty had been signed finally filtered down to the combatants and the British troops withdrew. But though another war had ended, an old one was to briefly flash back into life in dramatic fashion, for in late February 1815, Napoleon escaped from the island of Elba and returned to France. Europe was thrown once more into turmoil and Britain needed its troops for the war that was sure to come.

What followed became known as 'The Hundred Days', Napoleon's last throw of the dice that ended in his final defeat at the battle of Waterloo on 18th June 1815. The 4th Foot served with Wellington's army in Belgium and fought at Waterloo, but it seems that Private William Walker was not with them.  The records of the 4th Kings Own show that the regimental drum major also named William Walker received the Waterloo Medal which was awarded to all those who served in the battle, but there is no evidence that our Private Walker was a medal recipient. Evidence seems to suggest that the William Walker who later claimed four clasps to the Military General Service Medal in 1847-48 for his Peninsula War service was also the aforementioned regimental drum major.
  
After peace was finally declared and the occupation of France ended, the 1st Battalion 4th Foot were posted to the West Indies. Two and a half years later on 7th May 1821, at St Ann's in Barbados, 46 year old Private William Walker was discharged from the army, the reason given that he was worn out from his long years of service and the effects of his wounds. Walker was described as being 6' ¼” tall, light haired, grey eyed and with a fair complexion. His discharge certificate also indicates that for 4 years and five days of his 22 years and 55 days of service with the 4th Foot he had served as a corporal, but does not indicate when this was, nor why he had been reduced back to private. Whatever the case his conduct as a soldier had been 'very good' and the record was careful to note all the battles he had participated in and when he had received his wounds.

Walker returned to Britain on the first available vessel and his discharge was confirmed by the Chelsea commissioners later that year. What he did, where he went and what the ultimate fate of the old Peninsula veteran was after that remains unknown.

17 April 2020

Ken Ray's Soldiers: Gunner Aaron Wedgwood

Ken Ray, a long-time researcher into the lives of local soldiers has assembled an impressive list of North Staffordshire men who served in the Napoleonic Wars, the Crimea and the numerous colonial conflicts Britain participated in during the 19th and early 20th centuries. He has very kindly given me access to some of his documents which chart the lives and careers of ordinary men from the region who might otherwise have been forgotten. This is one of those stories...

- - - - - - 

Gunner Aaron Wedgwood, H Troop Royal Horse Artillery,
Napoleonic Wars

Though not closely related to any of his most famous namesakes, Aaron Wedgwood was certainly a member of the extended Wedgwood family of Burslem that included the great Josiah Wedgwood amongst its notable members. Born in Burslem in either late February or early March 1789, Aaron was the third child and eldest son of Richard Wedgwood and his wife Ann nee Lowndes. Aaron's father was the son of another Aaron Wedgwood, a potter of some repute, some of whose wares are today held in the British Museum collection. As a scion of a lesser branch of the family, the younger Aaron seems to have received little or no education, though in his teens he was apprenticed as an engraver in the pottery industry. However, on 4th February 1806, just before his 17th birthday, he cast all this aside and enlisted in the Royal Horse Artillery at Newcastle-under-Lyme.

Gunner Wedgwood was enrolled in H Troop Royal Horse Artillery. Armed with lighter cannon and with teams of horses to pull them for rapid deployment into action, the RHA were intended to work in concert with the cavalry, though they often filled in as regular static artillery on the battlefield. Not that Wedgwood saw any early action as H Troop spent the bulk of the Napoleonic Wars on garrison duty in Britain, mostly at Woolwich, Warley or Canterbury. There were two notable breaks from this routine, the first was in 1809 when H Troop took part in the ill-fated Walcheren expedition to the Low Countries, and in 1815 it was one of several troops of the RHA who served in the Waterloo campaign in Belgium. At Waterloo the Troop was placed in support of the soldiers fighting in and around the château complex of Hougoumont on the Allied right. Placed forward on the ridge like other artillery teams, it suffered heavily from enemy fire and the several cavalry and infantry attacks that day. H Troop suffered many dead and wounded, one of the dead being their commander Captain William Norman Ramsay. Command then devolved onto Captain John May.

Following the Allied victory, H Troop was stationed at Amiens, France as a part of the army of occupation, during which time Wedgwood like the other members of the Troop received the Waterloo Medal for his part in the action. In 1817, the Troop moved to Bailleul, where, following a reorganization of the RHA, H Troop became G Troop.

Eventually the Troop returned to Britain and Wedgwood was still with it, but not for much longer. His conduct as a soldier was, it seems, rather patchy and when he was discharged from the army on 30th June 1820, the stated reason was 'irregular conduct', while the section noting his general conduct was left blank. He was sent on his way with 5d a day pension. The discharge papers reveal that Wedgwood was a relatively short man only 5' 5¾” tall, with brown hair, grey eyes and a fair complexion. In total he had served 14 years 182 days in the army.

Though Aaron Wedgwood's discharge papers were signed at Woolwich, there is a pencilled notation on the back sheet that reads '80 miles from Pontefract to Newcastle'. On their discharge soldiers were usually provided with the fare to get them back to the town where they enlisted, though what he was doing travelling from Pontefract is unclear. It may be that he was based there and his discharge was merely confirmed at Woolwich.

Little is known about Aaron Wedgwood after his discharge, though there is some circumstantial evidence to suggest that he did indeed return to the Potteries. He may well have been the man of that name who married one Mary Ann Hudson in Hanley in 1823. There were two other Aaron Wedgwoods married locally a decade later, but these men seem to have survived well into the mid-19th century. That Aaron Wedgwood never applied for the Military General Service Medal perhaps indicates that he died before 1848. One Aaron Wedgwood died locally in 1837, and this may well have been our man.

19 January 2020

Ken Ray's Soldiers: Private John Potts

Ken Ray, a long-time researcher into the lives of local soldiers has assembled an impressive list of North Staffordshire men who served in the Napoleonic Wars, the Crimea and the numerous colonial conflicts Britain participated in during the 19th and early 20th centuries. He has very kindly given me access to some of his documents which chart the lives and careers of ordinary men from the region who might otherwise have been forgotten. This is one of those stories...

- - - - - - 

Private John Potts, 3rd Battalion 1st Foot (Royal Scots), Napoleonic Wars.

Depending on which document you consult, John Potts was born in either Hanley or Stoke, in either 1784 or 1789, though the latter seems the most likely date as on his discharge certificate the age '32' is crossed out and replaced with '27', putting his birth in 1789. This accords with other documents which seem to agree on that date. Nothing is known of his parentage, but before joining the army he worked either as a printer or a painter in the pottery industry, though on at least one occasion he simply listed his occupation as a potter; Potts was ever fickle with his personal details.

The uniform of the 1st Regiment of Foot (Royal Scots)
at the time of the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.
There is a hint that Potts may have been a member of the Staffordshire Militia before joining the regular army as when he attested for the 1st Foot at Windsor on 1 February 1808, he did so with several other men from Staffordshire who all indicated previous military service in Staffordshire. John Potts, however, did not specify how long his service had been. After several months of training, he was assigned to the 3rd Battalion 1st Foot on 25 June 1808.

Potts went on to see service in the latter half of the Peninsula War  One John Potts later earned two clasps for the Military General Service Medal (awarded to surviving veterans of the Napoleonic Wars in 1847-48) for the storming of  Badajoz in 1812, and the Battle of Vittoria in 1813. This may have been our man, but to further muddy the waters of his service record there were two John Potts in the 3rd Battalion 1st Foot (the other hailed from Roxburgh in Scotland) and the surviving records for both give no indication which of them this was. Our John Potts certainly suffered serious injuries during his service, with gunshot wounds to the head, right arm and leg and left knee. As the Royal Scots only suffered two casualties at Badajoz, (two wounded officers) then John may have got his wounds at Vittoria where the Royal Scots took a severe mauling. However, there is an excellent memoir of the Peninsula War written by Corporal John Douglas of the 1st Foot that mentions a Private John Potts having a miraculous escape from death, but suffering serious injuries, at the siege of San Sebastian in late 1813; and as his account indicates, this was almost certainly our man. We join the story just as the 1st Foot and other regiments are launching an attack against the southern walls of San Sebastian, which was a fortress town situated on a rocky peninsula.

'On the 25th July the breaches were pronounced practicable, but waiting for the tide to be sufficiently low to admit the men to reach the breach, it was daylight ere we moved out of the trenches; and having to keep close to the wall to be clear of the sea as possible; beams of timber, shells, hand grenades and every missile that could annoy or destroy life were hurled from the ramparts on the heads of the men; to shun which, if they kept further out in the tide, showers of grape and musketry swept them away by half companies. Those who scrambled onto the breach found it was wide and sufficient enough at the bottom, but at the top there was not sufficient room for one file at the curtain and from thence to the street was at least 20 feet. This was a house which was on fire close to the breach, and through which our poor fellows were forcing their way when a shell from our 10-gun battery at the passage side struck the gable and buried nearly a company in the burning ruins. One man alone escaped. The sides of the door being stone fell towards each other, and formed a letter A over him. Though his life was saved by this providential circumstance, he was, I might say, half-roasted, but survived. (I saw him in June 1817, after returning from France, near the potteries in Staffordshire, on the banks of the canal. His face then resembled a new-born infant. His name was John Potts.'
- John Douglas, Douglas's Tale of the Peninsula & Waterloo 1808-1815, pp. 79-80.

Potts' rejuvenated appearance was probably the result of new flesh and scar tissue covering the burns he had received in this closest of shaves.

The 1st Foot also took part in the Waterloo campaign in 1815 as part of General Picton's division, a Private John Potts served in Captain Robert Dudgeon's N° 8 Company, being awarded the Waterloo Medal for his service in the brief but dramatic campaign. There is evidence that the other John Potts in the ranks of the 1st Foot may have been stricken ill with eye problems on the march from Ghent to Brussels, which may perhaps have put him out of action for the duration, but again as with the Peninsula War clasps there is no clear indication as to which John Potts it was who saw action at Waterloo.

Potts was in France with the army following Napoleon's final overthrow and it was whilst stationed at Valenciennes that on 16 May 1816, he was discharged from the army due to being worn out by the effects of his numerous wounds. He was described at the time as being about 32 (sic) years of age, 5 feet 11 inches tall, with brown hair, grey eyes and a fresh complexion. Another document added the detail that he had a long visage. Having made his way back to Britain, on 9 August 1816 Potts was duly examined at the Royal Hospital, Chelsea to secure a soldiers' pension. This he did, being awarded a shilling a day as an out-patient.

John Potts disappears from the records after this, though we can presume from John Douglas's account that he returned to the Potteries following his medical exam. There is some circumstantial evidence that he may have been the John Potts listed in the 1841 census as living in Joiners Square, Hanley. This man was was 52 years old (born in 1789 as the soldier seems to have been) and he worked as a pottery painter (one of Pott's suggested pre-army trades). He was married, his wife Elizabeth being 45 years old, though they had no children. A decade later, though, the fuller census of 1851 revealed that the couple had suffered a serious downturn in their fortunes. John had gone blind and he and Elizabeth were listed as beggars lodging with a family in Bow Street, Northwood. By the time of the 1861 census, John Potts was 72 years old, his wife was 64 and they now had their own house at 34 Bow Street, where they lived with John's niece. The census noted that John had been blind for 14 years. This, though, was the last census he would appear on and a John Potts was listed as having died in Stoke-on-Trent in the last quarter of 1862.

Was this man really our old soldier fading away? We will probably never know for sure, but if so, the tale of his later years makes for a sad counterpoint to the high dramas of his youth.

12 January 2020

Ken Ray's Soldiers: Corporal George Ball

Ken Ray, a long-time researcher into the lives of local soldiers has assembled an impressive list of North Staffordshire men who served in the Napoleonic Wars, the Crimea and the numerous colonial conflicts Britain participated in during the 19th and early 20th centuries. He has very kindly given me access to some of his documents which chart the lives and careers of ordinary men from the region who might otherwise have been forgotten. This is one of those stories...

- - - - - - 

Corporal George Ball, 2nd Life Guards, Napoleonic Wars

Two babies named George Ball were born in Burslem within a year of each other. The first was the son of Charles and Esther Ball of Burslem, who was baptised there on 10th September 1786; and the second, son of Charles and Mary Ball of Burslem was baptised on 12th August 1787. If the several ages given on George Ball's future army documents are correct, then the earliest of these two is likely to be the future soldier, though there is seemingly no way to be absolutely sure.

Young George seems to have received some education (he could write his name) though whether he learnt his letters as a child or whilst in the army is unknown. Before joining the army he did briefly work as a potter, but that is all that is known about his early life save for the fact that on 8th February 1805, he enlisted in the 2nd Life Guards at Newcastle-under-Lyme, aged 19. His service in the regiment was dated from 25th December 1805.

George had joined the army at a critical time during the Napoleonic Wars when it seemed that Britain might possibly be invaded by the hitherto victorious French army. The immediate threat to the country had been crushed by Nelson's decisive victory over the French and Spanish fleets at Trafalgar in October that year, but the country still found itself at bay against a very dangerous enemy. At first, though, there was little Britain could do on land as the continent was largely allied against them. So, for the first few years of his army career George served at home. As a trooper and later corporal of the prestigious Life Guards, part of the sovereign's bodyguard, his lot would have been much better than most recruits to the army or navy at the time and much would have been given over to ceremonial duties.

In 1808, though, things changed, Napoleon invaded Spain and Portugal, prompting a popular uprising in the two countries that Britain quickly moved to support sending troops under Sir John Moore and Sir Arthur Wellesley to help against the French. Though the expedition got off to a near disastrous start, during which Moore lost his life, Wellesley, later ennobled as Lord Wellington, returned at the head of his army and spearheaded the broader campaign against the French occupiers that became known as the Peninsula War (1808-1814).

The 2nd Life Guards in action at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.





Many British regiments got drawn into the conflict including the 1st and 2nd Life Guards, who in 1812 sent two squadrons each to Spain. George Ball was one of these men and saw action in two battles, later being awarded clasps for Vittoria (1813) and Toulouse (1814). The 2nd Life Guards also served at the battle of Waterloo in 1815 where they formed part of the front line of the Household Brigade which charged the French cavalry supporting Napoleon's first great attack on the allied line. Together with the simultaneous charge by the Union brigade they effectively smashed the French attack. Like all the soldiers involved in this climactic campaign, Corporal Ball later received the Waterloo Medal.

George Ball continued to serve with the 2nd Life Guards after the war, finally being discharged on 24th January 1828. His discharge was in consequence of him having completed his third term of service and most tellingly he had become too heavy for the regiment. In total, his service amounted to 24 years 136 days (including the 2 years extra service awarded to all Waterloo soldiers). His conduct as a soldier had been good. At the time of his discharge he was described as being 41 years of age, 6 feet tall with dark hair, dark eyes and a dark complexion; we can doubtless assume that he was also rather corpulent.

After this, George Ball vanishes from the record. There is no evidence that he returned to the Potteries and he may instead have settled in London and married. There are several candidates on the 1841 and 1851 censuses who may be our man, but to choose any in particular would be idle speculation. Certainly George survived until 1847 when he applied for his Military General Service Medal with its two Peninsula War clasps, but what life or family he had is unknown, as too is the date of his demise.

08 January 2020

Soprano: The Musical Career of Lily Lonsdale (1)

'If only to hear the remarkable singing by Lily Lonsdale, the entertainments given by the Royal Gipsy Children are well worth attending... The young lady named is still well within her teens, but she sings with skill expected only from artistes far above her years, and has a voice of unusual compass and beauty.'
 Western Mail, Cardiff, 27 December 1899

Elizabeth Longsdale, alias Lily Lonsdale
Elizabeth Longsdale, or Lonsdale, was born in Pitts Hill, Tunstall in 1878, the fifth of eight children born to William Longsdale and his wife Martha nee Maskew. Elizabeth's father was a potter by trade, but his great passion was for choral music and in the last decade of his life he served as the choirmaster at Christ Church, Tunstall. Given this background, it is hardly surprising that William and Martha raised a family of very musical children: their son Wilson became a noted local baritone and their youngest daughters Agnes and Ethel also became elocutionists, singers or performers as too did one of their grandchildren. But it was Elizabeth, under the stage name of Lily Lonsdale, whose star would shine the brightest. Unfortunately for William, though, he never got to see his daughter's rise to fame, dying at a relatively young age in 1889 when Elizabeth was only eleven years old.

Elizabeth first made her name as a soloist at local concerts before joining the North Stafford Amateur Operatic Society where she made her stage debut, eventually taking on lead roles, most notably as Iolanthe in the Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera of the same name. As was later noted in her obituary, it was after this that that she turned professional, joining Thomas Tomkinson's Gipsy Children, a local choir turned concert party. Unusually, this was composed of talented children or adolescents and had garnered quite a following in the Potteries, even earning several invites to Trentham Hall to entertain the Duke of Sutherland and his guests. This troupe – known from 1897 onwards as the Royal Gipsy Children – would be the starting point of several successful show business careers during its existence, most notably that of Gertrude Mary Astbury, who better known as Gertie Gitana, later enjoyed a stellar career in the music halls. When Elizabeth was with the troupe Gertie was a child prodigy from Burslem nine year Elizabeth's junior, who under the stage name 'Little Gitana' ('Little Gypsy') was already gamely tackling the multiple roles that members of the Gipsy Children were often expected to take on, be it singing, dancing, acting, yodelling, paper tearing, male impersonation and performing in musical or comedy sketches. Contemporary newspapers occasionally provided digests of the entertainments the troupe provided.

Lily's co-performer Gertrude Astbury -
'Little Gitana' - in later life. By this time
she went by the stage name 'Gertie Gitana'.
'THE GIPSY CHILDREN - Mr Thomas Tomkinson's Gipsy Children have attracted crowded audiences to the Town Hall during the past week, on their return visit to Leek. Without doubt Mr Tomkinson has at his command one of the finest entertainments at present travelling, and the lengthy programme which includes musical items, comicalities, gymnastic displays, &c., is full of interest from start to finish. The first portion of the entertainment is composed of songs, dances, solos and choruses by the children, and it would be a difficult task to single out any performer, from Miss Lonsdale with her beautiful singing, to Little Gitana with her dry humour, who is more worthy of special praise than another. The second part consists of skipping-rope dances, clog dances, toe dances, character sketches and feats of equipoise on wire. The Musical Mascots give an excellent item, and the Urma Trio of charming young ladies go through a marvellous performance on the triple trapeze, which is suspended from the ceiling of the Hall. The mysterious Flying Lady, concludes the programme, and many are the suggestions made as to how this wonderful trick is done. The work of trying to please the audience extends down to the attendants who see that nothing is wanting for the comfort of their patrons. We strongly recommend those who have not already done so, to visit the Town Hall this evening (Friday) or to-morrow, when there will be a matinee, besides the evening entertainment.'
The Leek Post, 3 December 1898

Elizabeth too occasionally performed in some other roles as the situation demanded taking parts in sketches and revealing an aptitude for comedy, but her best and natural talent was always singing. Slim and attractive and now in her late teens, Elizabeth had developed into a fine soprano singer possessed of a beautiful, well-modulated voice. Billed under the alliterative moniker 'Lily Lonsdale', she quickly became one of the star performers with the Gipsy Children, regularly granting encores to delighted audiences and earning fine reviews from equally enthralled reporters.

Though originally performing exclusively in the Potteries or North Staffordshire, by 1897, the reputation of the Gipsy Children was such that they took on a tour of the Midlands and Wales and were very well received. Lily – as we shall now call her -  like the other performers joined the troupe on the road and went wherever she was required. The performances took place in various locations, sometimes grander places such as theatres, but also in town halls or humbler public buildings like church halls or meeting houses. The company included not only the cast, but also the management and a small army of helpers. Indications are that many of the parents of the children were involved with the troop and joined them on tour and took on various roles such as helping the young performers with their costumes, serving as ushers for the audience, collecting tickets and scene-shifting. All the props had to be transported too and the Gipsy Children even took a large velvet curtain on a custom made extending brass pole with them to serve as the stage for the show where none existed. Such ad hoc arrangements were known in the business as 'fit-ups', because they could be fitted up anywhere to give a performance. Only in such ways could visiting performers take their acts to small out-of-the-way venues where no other suitable performing area existed.

Ernie Myers
Working with the Gipsy Children, experiencing life on the road, working in theatres and the numerous fit-ups, in front of varied audiences (including royalty if we believe Thomas Tomkinson's tale about how the troupe suddenly became the 'Royal' Gipsy Children) was doubtless good grounding for Lily in her intended profession. During this tour she honed her skills and earned many plaudits for her performances, but she must have felt that it was apprentice work and by mid 1899 she was looking to move on with her career. There may have been several other reasons behind this desire to spread her wings; for one she was now 20 or 21, a grown woman and was obviously getting rather too old to make a convincing gipsy child. Also by this time she was romantically involved with another member of the troupe, 28 year old comedian Ernie Myers and they doubtless wanted a bit of privacy for their relationship, while armed with their skills the prospects of a married life on tour as variety performers looked promising.

Lily's initial attempts at forging a new career, however, got off to a bumpy start. Having quit the Royal Gipsy Children in June 1899, she enlisted as a member of Leon Vint's Globe Choir that was formed from 20 to 30 young women and seemed a logical choice, but she soon regretted it. Lily joined the choir in September, but by December her voice was suffering from overwork and despite being under contract until the following summer she handed in her two weeks notice. At first Leon Vint was agreeable to her quitting her contract if a replacement could be found and Lily's sister Agnes working elsewhere in the company offered to step in, but for whatever reasons Vint then changed his tune and after seemingly plucking an excuse out of thin air and claiming that the two women had breached their contracts, he threatened to take the sisters to court, at which Lily and Agnes, angry at this volte-face, promptly resigned. To court they went, at Tredegar on 16th January 1900, but here Leon Vint's bully-boy tactics backfired when he admitted that he had indeed asked for a replacement and Agnes had agreed. The judge was also critical of the contract which he deemed very one-sided in the management's favour and as a result he promptly dismissed the case against the two women.

To support herself in the meantime, Lily had returned to performing with the Royal Gipsy Children. Her return, though, was short-lived and was effectively brought to an end only a few days after the successful court case when on 22nd January, Thomas Tomkinson, the founder of the Gipsy Children died from pneumonia at Dowlais near Merthyr Tydfil aged just 27 years. The company would carry on touring and performing under the care of Thomas's brothers, but in the reorganisation following his premature death, Lily and Ernie made their final break from the company and set off as independent performers. Taken onto the books of theatrical agent A. Borelli, they were immediately set up with a number of dates, one of the earliest being in Liverpool and whilst in the area they married at Prescot in Lancashire in April that year. Shortly afterwards they appeared in Salford, after which their manager put both of them on the so-called Moss and Thornton tour, taking in a series of theatres and musical halls across Ireland, northern England and Scotland.

There was a brief pause for Lily early the next year when she returned to the Potteries to have their first child, Jacob William or 'Jack', in February 1901, but hard economics and the strictures of contracts dictated that family life had to play second fiddle to their careers. So, while young Jack was left in the care of Lily's mother in Tunstall, Ernie and Lily went off to earn a living and so began the gruelling round of public appearances up and down the country that was the lot of jobbing variety performers in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

References: Obituary, Staffordshire Sentinel,  8 March 1929

07 January 2020

Soprano: The Musical Career of Lily Lonsdale (2)

The Queens Palace, Rhyl
In the first few years on the road Lily and Ernie appeared in numerous venues up and down the country, including Belfast, Hull, Salford, Liverpool, Rhyl, Pentre, Tonypandy, Barry, Treorchy, Birmingham, Leeds, Derby, Coventry, Gloucester, Birkenhead, Argyll, Edinburgh and occasionally back on Lily's home turf in the Potteries. They were as yet only middle-ranking performers building up their reputations on the theatre and music hall circuit, all of which further honed their considerable skills. Despite now being married and performing at the same venues, they still appeared under their original stage names as separate acts, Ernie as an increasingly popular 'patter comedian' regaling the audience with amusing if outlandish stories and Lily in her role as a classical or ballad vocalist, though occasionally she too turned her hand to comedy, often performing in sketches or skits opposite her husband, such as when they were appearing at the Queen's Palace in Rhyl, North Wales in 1902:

'A very clever item is the amusing sketch entitled “The New Man” a burlesque in which much jesting and vivacity are introduced and which does the artistes credit. Ernie Myers well sustains the funny part, humour of course being a speciality of his which has made him a great favourite while in Rhyl. The mad woman's part is played by Miss Lily Lonsdale, the accomplished ballad vocalist who for the past week or two has charmed the audiences from day to day.'
- Rhyl Journal, 20 September 1902, p.2

They appeared in very mixed companies, sharing the stages with conjurors, ventriloquists, impressionists, acrobats, marksmen, puppeteers, clowns, jugglers, dancers and performing animals as well as other comedians and singers. On at least one occasion they were on the same bill as another married couple who performed as the double act 'Drum and Major'. The husband 'Tom Major', real name Tom Ball, would later adopt his pseudonym permanently and following the death of his wife Kitty, by a second marriage he became the father of future Conservative Prime Minister John Major. Probably the most famous bill that Lily and Ernie appeared on, though, was that for the Argyll Theatre of Varieties, Birkenhead, on 29 May 1905, when they were amongst the acts who for three nights appeared in the same show as the famous American escapologist Harry Houdini, then on a tour of Britain.

Their schedules could be gruelling, travelling from one venue to another and when there giving performances six evening a week, plus a weekday matinee. Lily sometimes had to sing up to six or seven songs per performance, so needed to make sure that her voice was in tip-top condition. Away from the stage, both she and Ernie needed to constantly keep their repertoires topical and refreshing; for Ernie this meant a constant search for new material for his comedy act, while Lily had to learn and practice the latest songs to keep her audiences entertained. The winter season did at least give the couple the chance to settle down for a few months into more regular work, when like many artists today they took on roles in traditional Christmas pantomimes. Lily and Ernie often appeared together in Aladdin, where Ernie gained a reputation for playing the villainous magician Abanazar and Lily made a memorable Princess. 

Though their workload was heavy, both of them were still young and the constant round of work paid for a very respectable lifestyle and by 1911 the couple had settled down in a pleasant house in Derby. By now they also had another child, a daughter, Lillian May, born in 1910, who when her parents were on tour along with her elder brother Jack were again left in the care of Lily's mother Martha, who had quit the Potteries and now lived with the couple in their new home. The children were doubtless left in the care of their grandmother for several months in August 1911, when Lily and Ernie and a few other acts set off on a journey to South Africa, where theatrical agent Edgar Hyman of the Empire Theatres Trust had booked them to perform at the Empire Theatre in Johannesburg. By December, though, they were back in Britain, once again taking up their respective roles in yet another performance of Aladdin.

Things carried on in the same vein for the next two years or more, but this happy period came to a shattering end when in 1914 the couple again set out for South Africa, this time at the invitation of the Africa Theatres Trust who had bought out Edgar Hyman's management company. Taking passage aboard RMS Briton they enjoyed the long voyage down, but on the approach to Table Bay at the end of the journey Ernie was taken ill and died suddenly on the morning of 7 April before the ship reached port. Lily was devastated, but the theatre community in Cape Town rallied around her. Harry Stodel, the local impresario who had booked them stepped in to organise the funeral, while the theatre company from the Tivoli music hall where they had been set to perform helped Lily through this hard time, for which she was very grateful. She was far from home and there are no indications that she had her children there with her to say goodbye to their father when he was buried at Maitland Cemetery, Cape Town on 8 April 1914.

After fulfilling what remained of her contract in South Africa, Lily took her lonely journey home. Back in Britain she quickly returned to her life back on the stage, a necessity now that she was the sole family breadwinner. This was a position made even more tenuous by the outbreak in August of what would become the Great War, with all the upheavals this caused. However, Lily was lucky, her reputation was high and she never stopped working during the war and after a few variety performances in London when she first returned to Britain, her work  took a new direction with regular employment on two long-running stage shows. She first landed a plumb role in the new musical farce Mind Your Own Business, written by Charles Baldwin and directed by Ernest Dottridge. Boasting a cast of forty performers the show starred comedian Arnold Richardson as restaurant proprietor Nathaniel Bloggs, with Lily as his daughter Ella, Vera Hind as a 'Sicilian Syren' and Leyland Hodgson as Ella's sweetheart, Dick.


The show would prove popular as it toured the country and Lily stayed on as a principal member of the cast until the end of 1915. She remained with the company for the winter season panto, but in February 1916, she announced that once the pantomime ended that she would return back to performing in variety. This plan quickly changed, though, when she was snapped up for another musical My Son Sammy, which would provide Lily with work for the rest of the war and beyond. She was again playing one of the principal roles, that of Vera Openshaw, while the titular character Sammy was played by comedian Arthur White, whose antics carried the show. Described in a similar vein to Mind Your Own Business, the show was a musical farce and a topical one with numerous songs touching on the military, such as 'Military Mad' and 'The Chocolate Soldier', the latter sung with verve by Lily herself, for as throughout her career she was widely praised for her commanding presence on stage and the beauty of her singing.

My Son Sammy toured the country with great success, it consistently played to packed houses, audiences seemingly delighting in anything that distracted them from the grim news from the front. Sometimes during a stop over, the cast would break off from their normal routine to put on special performances for wounded servicemen in the numerous war hospitals dotted around the country. For instance, in October 1918, Lily and her fellow performers were at the Grand Theatre, Hanley and put on just such a variety performance at the local war hospital, where many of the wounded were stretchered in by members of the Royal Army Medical Corps. It was a great success and Lily shone on home turf where she 'delighted the audience with her charming rendering of “The end of a journey.” In response to a determined encore she gave the popular “Joan of Arc” in splendid style.'

A few days later the company moved on to Middlesbrough and it was whilst there that on 11 November 1918, that the armistice was signed and the war ended.

The show went on for two more years with Lily still playing her part. Her career was going well, but the increasingly poor health of her mother was a concern and in mid-May 1920, whilst in Wigan, Lily suffered a nervous breakdown due to stress. The Stage put this down to her punishing work schedule, noting that she had played over a thousand performances in My Son Sammy. This was doubtless a factor, but by now her mother was in the last weeks of a long and painful illness. Lily recovered and trouper that she was got back to work a fortnight later in St Helens. However, on 21 June 1920, Martha Longsdale died back in Derby, putting a stop once more to Lily's performances. She and her relatives met up three days later in Tunstall for her mother's burial in the local churchyard.

Following this traumatic event Lily briefly left the cast of My Son Sammy and by mid-July she was headlining at the Gaiety, Durham as the star of The Rainbow Girl, described in the bylines as 'The most gorgeous and refined attraction of modern times'. Perhaps her time on this show was simply to give her a break from her normal routine and to allow her to pull herself together, or maybe she found that she could not fit into the new show. Whatever the case, after only a month Lily returned to her regular role in My Son Sammy. And there she remained for the next year when in December 1921 a sequel Sammy in Society was produced. Lily reprised the role of Vera Openshaw, but only for a short run of performances. It was time to move on.

Top of the bill. Lily briefly headlines in The Rainbow Girl.

After this long stint of very fixed work Lily moved back into the world of variety and a life akin to that she had led early in her career, and on one occasion at least she is said to have toured abroad once more, this time in Madeira. Also according to her obituary perhaps harking back to her father's choral background, she also occasionally dabbled in oratorio. Her long career now usually saw her receiving top billing wherever she went, but there were fewer mentions of her in the press. There was one notable exception in 1923, albeit for all the wrong reasons, when on 4 November, her son Jack died at the age of 22. He had been ill for some time and his death again hit Lily hard and his passing and funeral were given conciliatory coverage in The Era newspaper. Now there was only Lily and her daughter Lillian, who within a few years also started to pursue a career in the music halls and theatres. Her mother carried on as before.

A photo of Lily from her obituary.
For the next five years Lily worked constantly, but as was the case with many music hall stars, the workload and peripatetic lifestyle started to tell and by her late 40s her health had begun to suffer. In Wolverhampton in August 1928 the end was signalled when she suffered a seizure and collapsed on stage. She sat down to complete her final song, but as soon as the curtain fell Lily was escorted out to a waiting ambulance. What the seizure boded is never made clear, but from what little can be gleaned it ended her career and her life. She never recovered and on 2 March 1929 at the age of 50 she died at the Derbyshire Royal Infirmary.