Anarchy in Etruria

In early March 1783, the local economy was in decline and people were going hungry. A poor harvest the year before plus the knock-on economic effects of the American Revolutionary War had caused food to become scarce and prices to rise sharply and a number of food riots broke out in Newcastle and the Potteries as a result. The most serious of these took place around the canal at Etruria and may well have been started by some of Josiah Wedgwood's workers.

A view of Wedgwood's Etruria works from across the canal.
From The Life of Josiah Wedgwood (1865) by Eliza Meteyard.

There had been some trouble in Newcastle for several days and the rioters there seem to have joined or inspired the riot that broke out at Etruria on Friday 7th March. The trouble started when a barge carrying much-needed supplies of cheese and flour moored up at Etruria where the food was to be off-loaded before being distributed around the Potteries. However, at the last moment the barge's owners decided to send the boat on to Manchester. Within a short time of this decision shop owners in Hanley and Shelton heard the news and they in turn informed their angry customers. They had probably heard about the barge's departure from some of Wedgwood's own workers, certainly that suspicion was voiced in a letter written by Josiah Wedgwood junior, son of the famous potter. Later that same day Josiah junior wrote to his father - who was then in London on business - describing how when the news spread about the departing barge, several hundred men women and children had quickly gathered and chased after it along the canal, finally catching up with it at Longport. Believing that the boat had been sent away to increase the scarcity of provisions and thus up the prices even more, the crowd were in a black mood and not to be trifled with, so when they found that the bargee would not pull the boat over one of the crowd leapt aboard to tackle him. The boatman immediately cut the tow rope and slashed at the man with his knife and voices from the crowd on the towpath called out “Put him in the canal.” A ducking may well have been the man's fate had not another bargee come to his rescue and he had been able to escape onto another craft, albeit leaving his own barge in the hands of the mob as he did so.

The captured boat was then hauled it back to Etruria in triumph and by late afternoon was tied up alongside Wedgwood's Etruria works where the crowd unloaded the cargo into the factory's crate shop. Most of the rioters then went home meaning to return the next day for distribution of the goods. In the meantime a few men were set as guards. At about 7.30 that evening four of these sauntered up to Etruria Hall and asked for something to eat and drink while they were on watch. Another of the Wedgwood children, Josiah's older brother, 17 year old John went to them and stood talking with them for a time then too did their mother Sarah Wedgwood who also spoke with them for a while before the men went off. The nervousness of the Wedgwood household at this point is, evident in young Josiah's hasty missive to his father, but the family were not bothered any further that evening and at breakfast the next day things were still quiet.

A considered account of what happened next is difficult to come by, certainly none seem to have been carried by newspapers of the time. However, two anonymous letters were circulated by the press which – though they vary in details – give a rough idea of how events unfolded thereafter.

On the Saturday morning the crowd gathered back at the canal side and some of the goods seized the day before were sold off at what were considered by the crowd to be more reasonable prices. One of the letters states that this was at two-thirds the normal price, while sometimes the goods were given away. The meagre proceeds were then handed over to the disgruntled owners of the captive barge. The authorities meanwhile had taken steps to deal with the rioters. An express message had been sent to Lichfield asking for some companies of the Staffordshire Militia to come to their aid. Closer at hand, though, were a company of the Carmarthen Militia who that day had arrived in Newcastle on their way back to Wales. Due to the troubles in Newcastle itself and now in Etruria, the commanding officer was asked if he could help in dealing with the rioters. He agreed, and the force put itself at the disposal of the local magistrates who now had the job of quelling the disturbances.

Some justices went to meet with the mob still gathered around the captured boat, but the Militia were kept at a distance while the officials tried to settle matters peacefully. Here the letters are at odds with one another, one stating that all efforts to get the mob to disperse, including getting the master potters (whose workers formed the bulk of the mob) to try and influence them, but to no avail, while the other letter states that the magistrates' efforts were a success and that the mob agreed to leave, providing the boat was left where it was. Judging by the fact that several days later the mob was demanding the return of the boat the latter seems the most likely state of affairs, but the details still remain confused.

Nothing of great significance seems to have happened on the Sunday, though some of the local manufacturers and officials held a crisis meeting at Newcastle to discuss how best to calm the situation down and deal with the mob. A subscription was entered into perhaps to placate the rioters, Josiah Wedgwood's son John was present at the meeting and donated £10 to the fund. But after the quiet Sunday, Monday saw a return to the stand-off of previous days as the mob gathered at Etruria once more. This time they were in a far more bullish mood and sent messengers to the magistrates outlining their demands, namely to have the boat delivered back to them and its contents sold there.

After a quiet Sunday, Monday saw a return to the stand-off as the mob gathered once more, this time outside Billington's (probably the premises of Richard Billington, who carted coals for Wedgwood and rented 38 acres of the Etruria estate), where there was a meeting of the master potters and several officials. These included John Wedgwood in his father's stead, Dr Falkener of Lichfield, Mr Ing and Mr John Sneyd of Belmont (a neighbour of the Wedgwoods), who harangued the mob on their bad behaviour and the detrimental effect it would have on the price of corn, as too did John Wedgwood and Major Walter Sneyd of the Staffordshire Militia. The latter was there at the head of a detachment of the Staffordshire Militia, who stood by ready if needed. The masters and officials though still hoped that the rioters would listen to reason and a generous subscription was again raised, John Wedgwood giving £20 this time. The mob, though, did not accept this graciously remarking caustically that the money would not have been provided had they not caused trouble and made the manufacturers sit up and pay attention. They continued calling for the boat to be returned to them and the corn to be sold on fairly. Their demands became so loud and threatening that the Riot Act was read out and the mob was told that if they did not disperse to their homes in an hour's time, that the Militia would be ordered to fire on them. The crowd, though, were defiant, jeering that the militia men dared not fire on them and that if they did then the rioters would attack and destroy Keele Hall, the ancestral home of the Sneyd family of Major Sneyd was the current heir. According to some accounts the rioters also put their women and children at the front confident that the soldiers could not fire on them.

Despite this, after the hour had passed, the chief magistrate Dr Falkener was apparently on the verge of ordering the nervous militiamen to fire, when two of the rioters accidently fell down and made him pause and consider his actions. One of the Sneyds, huzzaring as he did so, got about 30 of the men to follow him, intending perhaps to charge the mob, but his effort was thwarted by women in the crowd who called out, “Nay, nay, that wunna do, that wunna do.” and embarrassed by the mocking cries the militiamen baulked, turned back and left the crowd alone. Unable or unwilling to take firm action, the officials agreed that the corn taken in the boat should be sold on at a fair price. And for now that was that and the crowd had their way. The magistrates, though, were now determined to make the leaders of the riot pay for the trouble they had caused and to bring the disturbances to an end once and for all.

Two of the ringleaders of the mob had been quickly identified as Stephen Barlow and Joseph Boulton. According to report, Barlow was born in Hanley Green, was aged about 38 and seems to have had a chequered history prior to the riots, having apparently served in the Staffordshire Militia, but had been drummed out for bad behaviour. He may also have had previous with the law as records show that four years earlier at the Epiphany Assizes at Stafford of 1779, one Stephen Barlow was in court for some unspecified crime he had committed in Penkridge. At some point he had married and by 1783 was the father of four small children and was living in Etruria. The authorities certainly knew where to look for him and that night after the riot, magistrates and constables converged on his house. On hearing the men at the door, Barlow quit his bed naked and attempted to escape by climbing up the chimney. He probably would have got away except that in his haste he dislodged some bricks and when his pursuers came out to see what was happening they caught sight of him hiding on the roof behind the chimney stack. When he was brought down, Barlow refused to get dressed and though it was a cold night suffered himself to be transported stark naked all the way from Etruria to Newcastle. After subsequently being taken to Stafford Gaol, Stephen Barlow was held there until his trial.

So too was Joseph Boulton, but he remains a shadowy figure in this drama as nothing seems to be known of his background. Beyond noting that two ringleaders had been captured at home that night and sent to Stafford gaol, his name was not mentioned in contemporary newspapers, though John Wedgwood who was at Stafford to witness the trial wrote to his father in London and noted that the man had been acquitted by the court. Stephen Barlow, on the other hand was not so lucky. The judge in summing up at the trial on 15^th March, detailed Barlow's offence and laid out the law regarding riots in the clear and clinical manner of the Riot Act. “That all persons to the number of twelve or more, who remain in any place in a tumultuous manner after proclamation has been made for the space of one hour, subject themselves to an indictment for capital felony. “ In other words, the death sentence.

The message this sent out was clear, namely those hundreds who had assembled and been involved in the rioting on 10^th March, most of whom had since either fled the area or had thus far escaped detection, were just as guilty as Barlow and could expect the same treatment if caught and convicted. Barlow meanwhile was sentenced to death without a quibble and on Monday 17^th March 1783, exactly a week after the riot, at Sandyford near Stafford, he was escorted to the gallows by a body of militia and there he was hung by the neck until he was dead. His body was then returned to the Potteries and buried locally two days later.

It had been a startlingly quick chain of events which did indeed have the desired effect quelling any further disturbances, but it perhaps shocked many law-abiding citizens too, disturbed by such arbitrary use of the law. Looking back from over half a century later even local historian John Ward - who as a solicitor had very little sympathy with rioters – seems to have been taken aback by this blatant show trial. Writing about Stephen Barlow, he noted that he 'became a victim rather to the public safety, than to the heinousness of his crime.' According to some accounts Barlow was not the only victim, as more than one paper reported briefly that following the execution, Barlow's wife hung herself in despair.

Josiah Wedgwood though was not so understanding. The danger the riot had presented to his family, estate and pot bank had shaken him and being a noted disciplinarian where his own workforce was concerned, the likelihood that many of them had been involved in the troubles doubtless rankled. On returning to the Potteries and hearing in detail what had gone on, Wedgwood felt compelled to put pen to paper and produced a short tract entitled An Address to the Young Inhabitants of the Pottery in which he hoped to quell any future disturbances by attempting to explain the wrong-headedness of the rioters and to examine and dismiss their supposed grievances. Though couched as a well-meaning sermon to soothe young minds, the piece arguably comes across as being rather sanctimonious given the recent circumstances; the musings of a rich man offering up self-serving arguments to poor people who simply wanted food.

Reference: John Ward, The Borough of Stoke-Upon-Trent, pp. 445-446; Ann Finer and George Savage (Eds.), The Selected Letters of Josiah Wedgwood p.268: Correspondence of Josiah Wedgwood, Vol. 3, pp. 8-9; Derby Mercury, Thursday 13 March 1783, p.3; Cumberland Pacquet and Ware's Whitehaven Advertiser, Tuesday 25 March 1783, p.3; Manchester Mercury, Tuesday 25 March 1783, p.1; Kentish Gazette, Saturday 29 March 1783, p.3; Northampton Mercury, Monday 24 March 1783, p.3; Stamford Mercury, Thursday 27 March 1783, p.2; Ipswich Journal, Saturday 22 March 1783, p.1; Hereford Journal, Thursday 3 April 1783, p.3.

The Great Storm of 1872

Being situated in such a hilly region, widespread flooding is a rarity in Stoke-on-Trent, but occasionally chance extremes of weather have briefly put parts of the area under water. One startling weather event occurred on the afternoon of Sunday, 7 July 1872, when what the Staffordshire Advertiser described as 'a thunderstorm of great severity', struck the Potteries. Though it only lasted an hour and a half, it was so fierce that it left in its wake many dozens of flooded or damaged properties and a somewhat shell-shocked populace. Considering the violence of the storm and the damage it caused, remarkably few people were injured, though it seems there were many close calls.

It had been cloudy all day, but in the afternoon the sky began to grow much darker presaging a storm, the light becoming so dim that newspapers could only be read near to windows or by candle or gas light. The dark clouds then gave way to ones with a strange yellow tint to them and it was then that it started to rain, not in drops, but as a veritable deluge driven in by a fierce wind and accompanied by loud claps of thunder and multiple bolts of lightning. In Hanley there was one very alarming event when a bolt of lightning passed through the Primitive Methodist school room in Frederick Street (now Gitana Street), entering by one window and out through another. The only damage was a scorched paint board on the front of the building, but the room had been full of children when the lightning shot through and these now fled the room in panic. They had to descend a flight of stairs to get out of the building and while none had been injured by the lightning, several now fell and were trampled underfoot and bruised in the crush, though none of them seriously. 

During a service at Shelton Church, it rained so heavily that water forced its way through the roof and poured down into the building in streams. Buckets had to be brought to catch the water and the noise produced during the saying of the litany is said to have made for a very curious sound. Elsewhere in town, the lobbies of Bethesda Chapel in Old Hall Street were flooded, so too were numerous houses in town, notably in Nelson Place where part of the road nearby carrying a tramway was washed away. In Hanover Street, the downpour lifted stones up out of the road and deposited them at the bottom of Hope Street, where a heap big enough to fill two barrows was collected. The bottom end of Hope Street itself flooded, filling the cellars with up to a foot of water, floating heavy beer barrels in a brewery and boxes of live chickens in one house. The damage done to yards and gardens was tremendous. Nor were the local pot banks immune. The Cauldon Place works were flooded, though no serious damage was caused. Hanley's satellite villages were likewise hard hit. At Basford a lightning bolt shot down a chimney and blew away a portion of a mantle shelf in one of the rooms; Etruria saw dozens of properties flooded, as too did Bucknall, where the water rushing down the roads and through the houses quickly threw the Trent into spate, causing it to overflow. This caused enormous damage on the low-lying ground of the neighbouring Finney Gardens where Bucknall Park now stands, some of the walks, plants and flowers being washed away by the sudden inundation. 

Probably in no other part of the Potteries were the effects the storm so severe than in Burslem. Reporters on the scene shortly afterwards noted that even the oldest inhabitants had never before witnessed such a tempest, one stating that the rain 'came down in bucketfuls'. The rain here was particularly heavy and for more than an hour the thunder and lightning was incessant and at one point the wind rose to a terrible pitch causing major damage in several places. On the Recreation Ground (where the old Queens Theatre now stands), Snape's Theatre, a temporary structure of wood and canvas which had been constructed for the town's wakes week, was in a matter of minutes blasted to smithereens. A number of the thickest supports were splintered like matchwood and many of the rafters and seats were destroyed, while the canvas roof was torn to shreds as the wind hit it. Mr Snape was a veteran travelling showman, well liked in the district and there was a great deal of local sympathy for him over his losses. In the aftermath of the storm a fund was set up, subscriptions to which would hopefully help him in repairing the serious losses he had sustained. 

The Big House, Burslem.

Just down the road from where Snape's Theatre was taking a battering, part of an eight-foot tall wall between a timber Yard and the Big House was knocked down by the wind and rain, the accumulated flood water then rushed through the ground floor of the Big House with great force, blowing the front door open and then pouring in a stream down the turnpike road. 

At the Roebuck Inn in Wedgwood Place, the violence of the rainstorm split some of the roof tiles, causing a mass of water to cascade into the upper rooms, then down the stairs and out through the front doors. The Town Hall too received a soaking, the basement of which was flooded to a depth of three feet, which caused no end of problems for the hall keeper and his wife who had the job of clearing it all out. Likewise the row of houses in Martin's Hole – literally a hole or hollow near the Newcastle Road, where the roofs of the houses were on a level with the road – 'presented a truly pitiable appearance', the buildings being flooded to a depth of four and a half feet, ruining food stores and furniture and forcing the luckless inhabitants to seek shelter on the upper floor. 

Almost everywhere else it was the same story with only slight variations. Longport received a severe visitation with most of the houses flooded to several feet. At Middleport the canal overflowed adding to the chaos. At Tunstall, water poured into the police station and several houses doing much damage. In Smallthorne numerous houses were flooded and smaller items of furniture were flushed out of the doors and sent floating down the street. At Dresden as well as the numerous flooded properties, the road at the lower end of the village was split apart by the storm, leaving it looking for all the world as if it had been heavily ploughed, which made it impassable to traffic and men had to be brought in to make repairs. In Stoke, Fenton and Dresden as in Burslem, many householders were forced briefly to live upstairs as their ground floors filled up, sometimes as high as the ceiling. Longton too suffered torrential rain and likewise had some flooding, but saw much less material damage, though at one pot bank the downpour extinguished the fires in their kilns. 

Then the storm passed, leaving the Potteries in a battered state that it would take several days to recover from. That evening another storm broke overhead, but this turned out to be a much less severe event and caused no more serious problems.

Reference: Birmingham Daily Post, Tuesday 9 July 1872, p.5; Staffordshire Advertiser, Saturday 13 July 1872, p.5.

Ken Ray's Soldiers: Private Philip Yates

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 Philip Yates, Royal Regiment of Horse Guards (Oxford Blues)

Napoleonic Wars

The Life Guards and Royal Horse
Guards (foreground) at Waterloo

Philip Yates was born in Stoke or possibly Hanley Green in 1784. His parents remain unknown and nothing is known of his background though he may have received some education in early life as he was later able to sign his name, albeit in a rather shaky hand. He initially worked locally as a plumber and glazier before attesting for the Royal Horse Guards at Nantwich, Cheshire on 13th March 1805 at the age of 21. 

Yates saw service with his regiment in the Peninsula War in Spain and France at the battles of Vittoria (1813) and Toulouse (1814). At Waterloo he served in Lieutenant Colonel Clement Hill's troop Royal Horse Guards which with the Life Guards and King's Dragoon Guards formed the Household Brigade of heavy cavalry, Yates's regiment forming the second reserve rank of the brigade. As the reserve, the regiment should have held back to exploit any opportunities missed by the front rank in any charge and then cover the withdrawal, but when great cavalry charge of the Household and Union Brigades was launched to counter the first full-scale French attack on the Allied line, the Blues followed suit, clashing with a large force of French cuirassiers who were advancing in support of the French infantry. Unlike the front line regiments, though, they did not advance too far, maintained their formation and made an orderly withdrawal back to the main line. The Blues also saw plenty of action later in the day, skirmishing repeatedly with the French cavalry during their charges against the Allied line in the late afternoon. 

After Waterloo and Napoleon's abdication, the Royal Horse Guards remained in France until 1816, when they returned to their base at Windsor and the rest of Private Yates' service was at home. On his discharge from the army on 5th February 1827, Yates was described as being 43 years old, 5' 10½” tall, with brown hair, grey eyes and a fresh complexion; his conduct as a soldier had been good. The reason for his discharge was due to length of service and amounted to 22 years and 43 days with the Colours, plus the 2 extra years service granted to all Waterloo veterans.

Yates returned to the Potteries after his discharge, travelling from Windsor to Hanley Green, where he picked up the threads of his old life, helped on by a Chelsea pension. Five years later on 24th June 1832, he married widow Elizabeth Pope (possibly nee Orton) in Hanley. In 1841 they were living in Brunswick Street, Shelton. Philip was back working as a glazier, Elizabeth's trade is hard to read as too is that of her 15 year old son from her previous marriage, John Pope, though he may have been a pottery packer; the fourth member of the household was Philip and Elizabeth's eight year old daughter Elizabeth. On a personal note, when I looked at the 1841 census entry, I was surprised and pleased to discover that Philip Yates and his family lived only two doors away from my great, great, great grandparents Thomas and Ann Cooper and their family.

One Philip Yates died in 1847 aged 66 and was buried on 26th December 1847. He had lived long enough to apply for the Military General Service Medal, as it was awarded with the two clasps for his Peninsula War service.

Reference: UK, Military Campaign Medal and Award Rolls, 1793-1949, Battle of Waterloo 1815, p.23; UK, Military Campaign Medal and Award Rolls, 1793-1949: Napoleonic Wars 1793-1815, p.193; UK, Waterloo Medal Roll, 1815; UK, Royal Hospital, Chelsea: Regimental Registers of Pensioners, 1713-1882, p.58; WO97 Royal Hospital Chelsea: Soldiers' Service Documents;1841 census for Shelton, Stoke-on-Trent.

Old News from the Potteries

Regular newspaper coverage of events in the Potteries only really started at the end of the 18th century with the advent in 1795 of the Staffordshire Advertiser paper, though as this was published in Stafford, it's coverage of the goings on in the north of the county was limited to the most noteworthy events. Another half century would pass before more local newspapers were being produced in Hanley, Stoke and Burslem. However, histories, travellers journals and some other national or regional papers occasionally carried tales from the Potteries from this early period giving us fleeting glimpses into life in the area.

* * * * *

The King's Touch

It was widely believed in the past that the King's touch could heal certain ailments. To this end on 29 August 1687, the minister and churchwardens of Stoke-upon-Trent gave John Bell of Cobridge a sealed certificate whereby he could obtain the King's sacred touch for his son Samuel Bell, who suffered from 'the King's Evil' i.e. scrofula. 

(John Ward, The History of the Borough of Stoke-upon-Trent, p.281)

John Wesley is Pelted in the Potteries 

On 8 March 1760, the Reverend John Wesley, the founding father of Methodism, visited Burslem for the first of many visits to the region. He described Burslem as 'a scattered town, on the top of a hill, inhabited almost entirely by potters', a large crowd of whom had gathered to hear him at five in the evening. He noted that great attention sat on every face, but also great ignorance which he hoped he could banish. 

The next day Wesley preached a second sermon in Burslem to twice the number of the day before. 'Some of these seemed quite innocent of thought. Five or six were laughing and talking till I had near done; and one of them threw a clod of earth, which struck me on the side of the head. But it neither disturbed me nor the congregation.' 

(John Wesley, Journal, 8-9th March 1760)

The First Cut

After receiving the royal assent two months earlier for construction of a canal connecting the rivers Trent and Mersey, on the morning of 26 July 1766, at a site just below Brownhills, pottery manufacturer Josiah Wedgwood cut the first sod of what would in time become the Trent and Mersey canal. James Brindley, the engineer who would oversee the canal's construction, and numerous other dignitaries were present, many of whom would also cut a piece of turf, or wheel away a barrow of earth to mark the occasion. In the afternoon a sheep was roasted in Burslem market place for the benefit of the poorer potters in the town. A bonfire was also lit in front of Wedgwood's house and many other events took place around the Potteries by way of celebration. 

(Jean Lindsay, The Trent and Mersey Canal, pp.31-32)

News from the North

'As you often give me London News, I will give you some from this Country, which has of late made a Figure. This Neighbourhood has for many Years made Pots for Europe, and will still do so, though the King of Prussia has lately clapt 28 per Cent, upon them. Our Roads were so bad that nobody came to view the Place where the Flint Ware is made, but now we have Turnpikes upon Turnpikes, and our Potteries are as well worth seeing as the Stockport Silk-Mills, or the Bridgewater Navigation, which we intend to beat hollow by Lord Gower's, now begun in our Meadows, and advancing apace towards Harecastle, on the other Side of which Multitudes of Men are at work, and before Christmas we shall have cut through the Hill, and made another Wonder of the World. There are already 100 Men employed on our Side, and 100 more will be added as soon as Wheelbarrows can be procured for them. Saturday last we had brave Sport at Earl Gower's, where 100,000 Spectators were present at the Prison-Bars played in Trentham Park. Among them were the Dukes of Bedford and Bridgewater. The Prizes were Ten Carline Hats, with gold Loops and Buttons, given by the Earl. The Cheshire Men were active Fellows, but unluckily their Lot was to wear Plod Drawers, to distinguish them from their Antagonists, which made the Crowd oppose their getting the Honour of the Day. During this Game, my Friend Bucknall loft his Boy, about Eight Years of Age, who was suffocated by going aslant down a Sort of a Cave into an old Coalpit, the top of which was fallen in. The Man that ventured to fetch him out, found a Number of Birds, supposed to have dropped down there by the sulphurous Stench issuing from the Pit. We have much Hay, and Cheese is plenty, and Corn without Barn-room, nor do we want Money. 

P. S. I have just seen a Hen, which laid Twelve Eggs only, from which she has brought up Twelve Cock Chickens, which is looked upon as somewhat remarkable.' 

(Extract of a Letter from Burslem,14  August 1766, Derby Mercury, Friday 29 August 1766, p.2)

Tunnel Vision

On 1 July 1772, an anonymous correspondent writing from Burslem related what he had seen the day before when he and some companions paid a visit to the first incarnation of the Harecastle Tunnel, situated between Tunstall and Kidsgrove and then under construction as part of James Brindley's Trent and Mersey Canal. 

'Yesterday we took a walk to the famous subterraneous canal at Harecastle, which is now opened for a mile on one side of the hill, and more than half a mile on the other, of course the whole must be compleated in a short time. As it is not yet filled with water, we entered into it, one of the party repeating the beautiful lines in Virgil, which describe the descent of Æneas into the Elysian fields. On a sudden our ears were struck with the most melodious sounds. - Lest you should imagine us to have heard the genius or goddess of the mountain singing the praises of engineer Brindly, it may be necessary to inform you, that one of the company had advanced some hundred paces before, and there favoured us with some excellent airs on the German flute. You can scarcely conceive the charming effect of this music echoed and re-echoed along a cavern near two thousand yards in length.' 

(Leeds Intelligencer, Tuesday 14 July 1772, p.3)

A Fungi to Be With

'A few days ago, a mushroom was got at Stoke-upon-Trent, in the county of Stafford, whose diameter was 5 inches, and 30 inches in circumference, it weighed 16 ounces. The above is very authentic.' 

(Leeds Intelligencer, 5 September 1775, p.3)

All in a Spin

'The following extraordinary phenomenon was lately observed here; at the latter end of last month, a field of hay belonging to Mr. J. Clark, near Burslem, was carried off by a whirlwind; the day when it happened was exceedingly calm, scarce a breath of air to be perceived. The people who were at work in the field observed, that in one part the hay began to be agitated in a small circle, at every wheel it increased in size and velocity, continually sucking more hay into its vortex; after a considerable time it began to ascend, taking along with it a silk handkerchief which hung rather loosely about the neck of one of the men who was at work; it continued ascending till entirely out sight, and in about an hour it began to descend, and continued to so for an hour's space, alighting at, or within a few hundred yards of the place from whence it had been carried up, so that the owner lost but a very trifling quantity of his hay.' 

(Hereford Journal, 23 August 1781, p.2)

A Tragic Accident

The following melancholy tale from the Potteries is related in a letter dated August 14 1785. 'As Ellen Hulme, a poor woman of Lane End, was returning to her habitation late last night, with her infant, six weeks old, in her arm, she unfortunately stepped into a coal-pit, which shamefully lay open close to the road, and even with the track which led to the poor creature's house. Her husband, whom she had been to fetch from an alehouse, immediately alarmed the neighbourhood, when her distressing cries were very distinctly heard from the bottom of the dreary pit every effort was attempted by the hardy colliers to fetch her up, but the damp prevailing very much, obliged them to use means to extract it, after which was found the mother with her infant upon her arms, both dead.' 

(Sussex Advertiser, 22 August 1785, p.3) 

A Hard Winter

During the harsh winter of 1794-1795, the better off inhabitants of Hanley and Shelton formed a committee which started a subscription list for the temporary relief the poor who were suffering great hardship during the cold weather. By February 1795 the committee had collected an impressive £150, enough to enable them  to supply nearly 500 local families with meat, potatoes, and cheese. The Wedgwood family gave a liberal amount and through them a Mrs Crewe kindly added a welcome donation of a quantity of flannel clothing. The Marquis of Stafford aided the relief fund by ordering 100 tons of coal to be at the distribution of the committee. 

A month later, in an issue of the Staffordshire Advertiser that noted that thermometers in Macclesfield had measured temperatures as low as -21° F (-29.4° C), the fearsome nature of the winter was highlighted dramatically by one small but rather macabre snippet of news. 'Through the inclemency of the night of Saturday last [i.e.,14 March] a poor man perished betwixt Hanley and Bucknall. He unfortunately lost himself in attempting to cross the fields, and was found on Sunday standing upright in a snow drift, with his hand only above the surface.' 

(Staffordshire Advertiser, 7 February 1795, p.3; 21 March 1795, p.3.)

Wild Fire

In late March or early April 1799, a dreadful accident happened in a pit at Lane End, the property of John Smith, Esq. Four men were blown up, and two them terribly burnt by what the colliers of the time described as 'the wild fire'. The explosion was loud, and the concussion so great that nearby houses shook violently. Two of the men were not expected to recover, while the other two were thrown to a considerable distance, and left badly bruised. The reporter noted that their hats were blown to the distance of 70 yards from the mouth of the pit. 

(Staffordshire Advertiser, Saturday, 6 April 1799, p.4)

Elizabeth Smith and the Mason Connection

In the early 2000s I was contacted by Ernie Luck a collector and researcher of Mason's pottery who had been looking into a vague connection he had heard of existing between Captain E. J. Smith of the Titanic and the Mason and Spode pottery dynasties, a link he had gone on to substantiate. As well as providing me with much other information that helped me in my own research, Ernie subsequently sent me the following article detailing the Smith-Mason connection which he had written for the Mason Collector's Club newsletter in 2003 and he has kindly allowed me to reproduce it here in full.

Elizabeth Smith (1855-1942) was the eldest of nine children born to Captain Smith's uncle George and his wife Thirza nee Leigh, and though her own story is nowhere near as glamourous as that of her famous cousin it is nevertheless an interesting piece of local history showing the connections - though often distant and accidental - that could build up between disparate families in such a self-contained region as the Staffordshire Potteries once were.

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Charles Spode Mason and his Descendants

by

Ernie Luck

Charles Spode Mason was the only son of Charles James Mason’s marriage to his first wife Sarah Spode. I have been unable to trace a record of his birth or his christening, but a consensus of the age attributed to him on various documents suggests he was born in 1820 or 1821.

Despite the ultimate bankruptcy of the business, his father Charles James was, by and large, a very wealthy and successful business man.  By contrast Charles Spode Mason appeared to have none of these attributes.  This may have been due to his privileged upbringing leading to slothful ways, or maybe Charles James was too busy with the business to ensure his son applied himself to his education; whatever the reason, the evidence, gleaned from a variety of sources suggests that he had neither a successful marriage nor a successful business.

Charles Spode did not get married until 1856 – the year of his father’s death – when he was 35 years old.  He married Elizabeth Leese, a sixteen year old, at St Paul’s Church, Stoke on Trent, on the 21 September.  Their only child, Mark Spode Mason, was born on 11 Feb 1858 at Terrace Buildings, Fenton.  Incidentally, Terrace Buildings Works was one of the lesser known Mason manufactories which, according to Reginald Haggar, was built by Charles James in 1835 and vacated in 1848.

Although Charles Spode was described as a Solicitor on his marriage certificate, the 1861 census return tells a different story because on that document he is described as having ‘No profession or trade’.  But it is the transcript of a letter held in the Haggar Archives which provide a rather damning insight into his professional status.  The letter was written in July 1933 to J. V. Goddard from a Mr J. Beardmore.  He writes ‘Midway between 1860 and 1870, it was intended that I should study law, and I was for a time in the offices of a firm of lawyers, and Mr Charles Mason called several times, a ‘wreck’, the butt, I fear of the clerks who spoke of him as a ‘broken down solicitor’, meaning perhaps ‘not legally qualified’’.  Things must have continued to go down hill for Charles because when he died in 1878 at the age of 57 years, he was a resident of the Stoke upon Trent Workhouse. 

My research of Charles’s son Mark Spode Mason was only accomplished with the assistance of his great-granddaughter Mrs Marjorie Burrett, who lives in East Yorkshire and a distant relative who lives in New Zealand (one of the Quaker Mason’s).  Without their prior research, progress would have been slow, if not impossible.  Although their research was accurate in essentials, the devil lay in the detail and my efforts to put some ‘meat on the bones’ proved to be not as easy as I had anticipated.  With two children born out of wedlock, his propensity to move frequently, and his use of ‘James’ as a first name, trying to find him or the family on the census was a researcher’s nightmare.

Mark married Elizabeth Smith at St Giles Church in Newcastle-under-Lyme on 23 April 1877. Elizabeth’s younger brother and sister, William and Emily were the witnesses.  Elizabeth was connected with another famous person; she was a cousin of Edward Smith, Captain of the ill-fated Titanic.

Left Elizabeth Smith (standing) and her sister Sarah, right Commander E.J. Smith. Elizabeth's marriage to Mark Mason forged a link between the Mason and Spode dynasties and the captain of the Titanic.

Elizabeth had two children before her marriage to Mark and there must be a serious doubt as to whether he was the father of Elizabeth’s first child, Ann, as he was only 16 years of age when she was born. Ann, was born on 28 July 1874 in the Union Workhouse, Chell (near Tunstall) and registered as ‘Ann Smith’ – no fathers name was provided. It looks as if Elizabeth’s family could not afford to provide for her and her child, or perhaps they threw her out because of what then, would have been a shameful event - their daughter having a child out of wedlock. How times have changed. On the 1881 census Ann, recorded as ‘Anne Smith Mason’, was living with her grandparents, George and Thirza Smith in May Bank, Wolstanton.

Elizabeth’s next child, Lydia Mason Smith, was born at May Bank on the 4 March 1877, seven weeks before her marriage to Mark.  On the 1881 census she is staying at Goose Street, Newcastle under Lyme with her grandmother, Elizabeth Mason, widow of Charles Spode Mason.

Mark and Elizabeth’s third child, Florence Coyney Mason, was born on 26 March 1879 at Goose Street, Newcastle.  She was undoubtedly named after Mark’s Aunt, Florence Elizabeth Coyney.

Two years later the family had travelled up to the north east of the country and on the 1881 census, Mark, (now calling himself James), his wife Elizabeth, and two-year old Florence were staying at a lodging house in Northowram, Yorks.  Some of the occupants were described as cutlery grinders which has significance because the occupation on Mark’s death certificate was recorded as ‘scissor grinder’. Why did Mark decide to move away from the Potteries, leaving the two oldest children with the grandparents? Why call himself James?  His Aunt, Elizabeth Spode, left him an inheritance to be paid on his twenty first birthday; was there some connection, or did he leave the area because of debts?  You can but speculate.

Their next child, Elizabeth, was born at 2 Smith Street, Hartlepool, on the 1 September 1884.  Elizabeth was the only child actually registered by Mark.  The name and surname of the father is recorded as ‘James Spence Mason’ on the certificate.  The name of the Registrar was Spence, so this may possible account for the discrepancy in Mark’s middle name.

Mark and Elizabeth’s last child, Charles Spode Mason - obviously named after his grand-father - was born on 25 April 1889 at 121 King Edward Street, Grimsby.  The family had finally settled in Great Grimsby, Lincolnshire; a major fishing area.

‘At noon, on Friday, 20 February 1891, an inquest was held at the Great Coates Railway Station, before the District Coroner (Dr C. B. Moody) inquiring into the circumstances attending the death of James [Mark] Mason, 33 years of age, scissor grinder, late residing at Drakes Buildings, Grimsby.  From the evidence produced it seems the deceased, who had been peculiar in his conduct for two or three days past, was observed walking along the Railway from Grimsby to Great Coates, on Thursday morning week.  After standing somewhat irresolute on the line, he watched the morning express from Grimsby approach and deliberately flung himself in front of the Engine; the guard iron struck him on the head and turned him out of the way, and when assistance arrived some few minutes later he was found lying in a ditch beside the railway line.  Life was then quite extinct.’  

So reads the opening paragraphs of the report of the inquest.  In her testimony, Mark’s wife Elizabeth told of the great difficulty they had experienced in maintaining the family of six since Christmas and how this had preyed on Mark’s mind.  At the end of the proceedings, the jury, in an act of generosity, kindly devoted their fees to Elizabeth because of her straightened circumstances.  There were no social services to fall back on, in those days. 

It is only recently that the true circumstances of Mark’s death have been unearthed.  Prior to this the family had always understood that Mark had been killed at a level-crossing on his way home – ‘drunk as usual’.  No doubt the truth had been suppressed to avoid causing the children any undue distress.

Mark’s widow Elizabeth remarried the following year - with five children to bring up perhaps out of necessity.  She married George William Johnson, a fisherman, on the 25 Dec. 1892 at St John’s Church, New Clee.  By the time of the 1901 census, Elizabeth had two more children, a son, George Johnson, 8 years’ old, and a daughter, Gertrude Johnson, 5 years old.  It was Gertrude who cared for her mother when she became old and infirm.

By the turn of the century, nearly all of Mark’s children had left home. Lydia had married John Cardy in 1896 and by the time of the 1901 census had borne three offspring; John, Florence Annie and George Hugh.  It is possible more children followed.

Florence Coyney Mason married George Illingworth on the 1 January 1908, at the Church of St Peter in Bradford. They continued to live in the Bradford area and, as far as I know, they did not have any children.

Elizabeth married Swanson Carnes Trushell on the 26 August 1901 and had seven children over the next twenty years. Their eldest, Sidney Edward Trushell, is the father of Marjorie Burrett nee Trushell, who has provided me with a lot of information.  Most, if not all, of the descendants of Elizabeth Mason and Swanson Trushell are known right up to the present time.  They are too numerous to detail, but are illustrated on the accompanying family tree, although the most recent members of the family have been omitted to protect their anonymity.  The eldest living descendant is Elizabeth’s daughter (Mark’s grand-daughter), Joyce Coyney Clarke nee Trushell.

Charles Spode Mason Junior, the youngest of Mark’s children, died of TB at the age of 36 years on 24 January 1926.  He was employed as a Brewer’s cellar man and was staying at his mother’s house at the time of his death, so presumably he had not married.

We know very little of Elizabeth Smith’s first child Ann, except that she had a family and there are descendants living in America.

Acknowledgments: My special thanks to Marjorie Burrett, (a direct descendant of Miles Mason and Josiah Spode 1) and Lyane Kendall of New Zealand, a distant relative of the Mason family, for providing details of the Mark Spode Mason family tree.  My own small contribution was to provide a little more detail on the individuals and to successfully trace the whereabouts of an inscribed pottery mug presented to Mark Spode Mason shortly after his fifteenth birthday.  The mug in question was given to The Spode Museum Trust, Stoke in 1975 by a relative, to avoid any family dispute over ownership.

References: Birth, Marriage and Death certificates and Census Returns from the Family Record Centre London; The Grimsby News Fri. 20 Feb. 1891; extract of letter in the Haggar archives from the research notes of Peter Roden

Photo of Elizabeth and Sarah Smith courtesy of the late Marjorie Burrett.

The Battle of Burslem

Thomas Cooper, the Chartist whose
fiery speeches sparked the riots.

In 1842, a prolonged miner's strike had crippled the Staffordshire Potteries. Hundreds of men were on the streets begging and intimidating passers by, while surly mobs raided police stations to free those who had been arrested. The situation in the Potteries was likened to that of a powder keg ready to explode and all that was needed was a spark to kindle all into combustion. Enter Thomas Cooper (see here) lay preacher and Chartist firebrand, whose powerful speeches finally struck that spark and plunged the Potteries into two days of rioting and mob rule. During this period dozens of buildings were looted and destroyed and order was only restored after a clash between rioters and the army, an incident popularly known as the Battle of Burslem.

The confrontation took place on 16th August 1842. After a day and night of rioting and looting, early in the morning of the 16th crowds began to gather once more on streets of the Potteries. Of the five towns which had suffered in the previous day's rioting, Hanley had been hit the worst. Plumes of heavy fire smoke curled up from either end of the town and the streets were filled with debris. The parsonage was a smouldering ruin and at the top of Pall Mall, Albion House home of local magistrate William Parker had been reduced to a charred and broken shell. On the streets of the town by 7 o'clock a crowd of 400 to 500 people had gathered and were being addressed by two of the local Chartist leaders, young William Ellis and John Richards, the elder statesman of Potteries Chartism. Ellis was urging the crowd not to give up the struggle until the People's Charter became the law of the land. According to witnesses, though, it was the normally mild-mannered Richards who was more to the point. "Now my lads," he said, "we have got the parson's house down, we must have the churches down, for if we lose this day, we lose the day forever." Ellis then spoke again and urged the crowd to go to Burslem to join the crowd there. They were expecting to meet up with a large crowd who were coming to the Potteries from Leek and extend the rioting even further. By 9 o'clock, with shouts of "Now lads for Burslem" and "Now to business", the Hanley mob began marching north.

From Hanley to Burslem is a steady half hour walk for a healthy man and as they entered the town at about 9.30am, the crowd were singing a song that Thomas Cooper had taught them, "... the lion of freedom's let loose from his den, and we'll rally round him again and again." On their arrival in the town a part of the mob barged into George Inn which had only ten days earlier been attacked by outraged strikers and suffered substantial damage. To try and avoid further trouble, the owner of the Inn, Mr Barlow tried to buy the rioters off by giving them a shilling each; some of this was in half crowns and a dispute arose at the door as to the division of it. By this time the greater part of the mob had arrived and they immediately rushed in and filled the house. Mr Barlow had taken the precaution to remove the bulk of his cash; there was however £14 in coppers wrapped up in parcels of five shillings, which were all taken. Numerous bottles of wine, whisky and rum was also stolen, and the taps attached to the beer kegs were left running. Prominent amongst those who conducted this raid was George 'Cogsey Nelly' Colclough, a local lout who had flitted from one town to another the previous day, joining in with the burning and looting wherever he went. Like a moth to the flame he had followed the trouble back to his native Hanley and now thought to export his brand of local thuggery to the Mother Town. But the invasion of the inn did not go unopposed, for while the mob had previously only faced outnumbered police constables, they now found that they were in a town containing a small but formidable force of regular soldiers. They were surprised by a sergeant of dragoons and one or two other soldiers who were billeted at the inn, who hearing the noise, rushed into the bar and lobby to confront the troublemakers. Being in their undress uniforms they only had their swords to hand, but undaunted, the sergeant immediately drew his sword and began to cutting and swatting at the looters and in a few minutes the house was cleared. On being forced back into the street, the mob vented their anger by throwing stones at the windows, and in a very short time all the newly fitted glass was smashed and the house soon presented the same dilapidated appearance as it did after the attack in the night of the 6th.

The Leopard Inn, Burslem.

At the Leopard Inn, meantime, local magistrate Captain Thomas Powys was with Brevet-Major Power Le Poer Trench the commander of the 50 or so 2nd Dragoon Guards, who had been stationed in Burslem the week before. The two men had met shortly after the news had come in of a large crowd coming from Leek and Powys was doubtless consulting with the military as to what should be done if they tried to join the rioters. It was at this point that Thomas Lees the landlord of the inn came over with news that trouble that had broken out in Chapel Square. Captain Powys immediately asked for the Major's assistance and Trench quickly ordered his available men to horse. Most of the men were billeted at the inn, their horses being stabled outside and the troopers now came out into the cobbled courtyard and hurriedly got themselves and their animals ready for action. A flurry of stones came flying over the gate striking at least one soldier on the helmet, but unfazed they were soon clattering out of the courtyard and through the streets. Mounted on their big bay horses, the soldiers dressed in scarlet tunics, dark blue trousers with a yellow stripe down the side and tall, crested brass helmets on their heads, they were a sight to see and doubtless provided the townsfolk with a gallant if alarming show as they rode towards the Market Place.

The mood in the town had grown increasingly ugly with the arrival of the soldiers and Captain Powys knew that the crowd of people from Leek were even now on the outskirts of the town. If the two mobs joined up and went unopposed Burslem might well be utterly wrecked, so Powys decided that it was now time to restore law and order before things got completely out of hand.

An officer of the 2nd Dragoon Guards
in 1842. The helmet would have lacked
the black plume while on active duty.

Riding up to the top of St John's Square with Trench's dragoons posted on either side and 200 special constables behind them, Captain Powys faced the mob and began to read out the Riot Act in a loud voice. He then gave several other warnings and then read the Riot Act again, urging the crowd to disperse and go home peacefully. The crowd, however, were unmoved and milled about between the market or the Shambles, as it was called, and the Big House, Thomas Wedgwood's former home that still stands at the junction of Moorland Road and Waterloo Road, though at that time there was a walled garden before it. Powys then called out, "Clear the streets!" Then shouted, "Charge!" and led the dragoons towards the crowd. He had hoped to scare them off and the horse soldiers beat with the flats of their swords any who were slow in getting out of their way. The ruse did not work, though, for as one portion of the crowd fell back others spilled out of the side streets and alleys, back into the main crowd. Seeing the opportunity to cause more trouble, George Colclough set about the nearest soldiers with his stick, beating at their sword arms as they attempted to swat him. After a time several of the cavalrymen were so bruised by Colclough's attacks that they left him alone, which is said to have raised a cheer from some in the crowd.

By now it was getting towards noon and despite the best efforts of Captain Powys and the soldiers, the streets were still full of people. Some had climbed onto the roof of the Town Hall and the covered market, from where they threw stones at the troops and special constables. Powys, increasingly alarmed that the situation might escalate to the point where he might have to use the soldiers more forcefully, was repeatedly seen riding up to the crowds and calling out that the Riot Act had been read and urging people to return to their homes. He was joined in his efforts by others including an Irish naval officer, 41 year old Captain William Bunbury McClintock, who had come to town to meet his friend Major Trench, only to find himself in the eye of a storm. McClintock now rode back and forth from where the bulk of the troops were gathered by the Leopard Inn to check on what the crowds were doing. He saw 'a vast concourse of people in the Hanley Road, and a dense mob on the Smallthorne Road - the latter were accompanied by a band of music. I returned again to the troop, and told Captain Powys there would soon be bloody work.'

Word quickly spread, to the delight of the rioters in the town that the Leek mob of between 4,000 to 5,000 people was advancing down Smallthorne Road and they began moving up Chapel Square to meet them. As McClintock had noted, at the head of the crowd marched a band playing 'See the Conquering Hero Comes' preceded by a large number of men and boys shouting and waving makeshift weapons overhead, all of which could be clearly seen from Market Square. Captain Powys described it as 'the most tumultuous and violent mob which I have ever seen assembled, having seen many riots in the country and in London." He guessed that a clash was now inevitable and barely three minutes after McClintock had ridden back to the troop, Powys ordered Major Trench to move the troop forward to meet the crowd and he formed his dragoons up in sections diagonally across the road from the Big House to the Post office, so cutting the newcomers off from the bulk of the Potteries' mob in the Market Square. The special constables, meantime, closed up nervously behind the cavalry, among them local manufacturer Joseph Edge and his friend Samuel Cork. They looked so alarmed at this point that a kindly lady watching the action from a nearby house sent her servant over with a glass of wine for them both, hoping that the drinks would revive their spirits.

They needed it, for by now the fresh crowd was closing on the thin line of soldiers. Captain Powys on horseback was on the left of Major Trench, who with the other officers were in advance of the dragoons. A large crowd was assembled in the area above the Wesleyan chapel, to witness the arrival of the Leek mob. When about eighty or a hundred yards from the spot where the dragoons were stationed, the Leek party began to cheer and those in front waved their bludgeons. As the head of the procession entered the open space, the front ranks turned to the left, with the apparent intention of making their way by the Wesleyan chapel. About twenty or thirty deep of them had got so far when as Captain Powys later recalled, 'Immediately large volleys of stones, and brick ends were thrown by this mob at myself, and also at the military, I being then in the advance. Similar stones were thrown at the same time by the mob coming in the direction from Hanley at the military, myself and also at the special constables.'

By now the situation was intolerable. Stones were being hurled from both sides of the Market Square, striking horses and men alike and rattling over the cobbles. Captain Powys had thus far been the model of restraint, giving the crowd ample opportunities for a peaceful withdrawal, but it was now obvious that they were bent on trouble. Fearing for the safety of the soldiers, special constables and himself, by his own account he felt he had no choice but to use the soldiers to full effect and turning to Major Trench, Powys asked him to get his men ready to open fire. Trench agreed that the situation was getting out of control and gave the appropriate orders. As the soldiers sheathed their swords and primed their carbines, the large crowd moved forward as far as the Big House. The dragoons advanced slightly to counter them and only at the last moment when the front of the crowd was only six or seven yards away from the soldiers did it seem that the rioters saw the line of guns being raised and levelled at them. 'This movement on the part of the soldiers caused a strange movement amongst those in the front of the mob, and a look of terror came over their faces. Another moment and the order "fire" was given' and the rattle of musketry echoed out loud over the town.'

The Big House, Burslem, where troops and rioters clashed.

The soldiers fired directly into the crowd, not over their heads as some reported, and many bullets found a mark. Standing in front of the large brick wall that then stood in front of the Big House, was a 19 year old shoemaker from Leek named Josiah Heapy. Despite glowing reports from his employer, who later extolled his gentle character and claimed he had been forced to join the crowd, Heapy appears to have been actively engaged in throwing stones at the soldiers, at least, that is, until a musket ball struck him in the temple and blew his brains out against the gate post.

As Heapy's lifeless form slumped to the pavement, in another section of the crowd, a bricklayer named William Garrett got a ball through his back that exited through his neck and he too fell to the ground gravely wounded but he was eventually whisked off to the infirmary. According to reports others were hit, but in the confusion no one stopped to count the casualties, though it has been supposed that some of the wounded were carried off by their friends and died later. A report in the Bolton Chronicle later claimed that the true tally had been three people killed and six wounded, while reports from Leek spoke of numerous wounded being brought back into the town after the riots.

Some in the crowd seem to have been expecting this development, for shortly after the soldiers had fired their volley someone released a number of carrier pigeons which set off in the direction of Manchester. One of these birds was later captured and found to be carrying a note reporting that the mob had been fired on by dragoons and calling for 50,000 workers to join them in the Potteries. Some witnesses also recalled seeing plumes of gun smoke coming from the crowd just before the soldiers fired, though if this was the case, none of the soldiers or special constables were injured.

Most of the mob, though, was just shocked by the gunfire. From his position behind the dragoons, special constable Joseph Edge had watched all this in fascinated horror, as his son later noted: 'such a scene presented itself which we may pray may never be repeated in this good old town. So panic stricken was the mob that the men simply lay down in heaps in their efforts to get away from the cavalry... '

The 2nd Dragoon Guards open fire on the crowd from Leek.

Having stunned the rioters, the soldiers kept moving forwards and slinging their carbines, they drew their swords and followed by the special constables they charged their horses into the head of the crowd which scattered in panic before them. Immediately, thousands of people began rushing in all directions, many falling over each other in tangled heaps, others leaping through open windows, or into any available hiding place. Apocryphal tales abound. One Joseph Pickford of Leek is said to have taken shelter in a pig sty, much to the annoyance of its porcine occupants, whose squeals threatened to reveal his hiding place. Hundreds more escaped into the adjoining fields. Another story recalled how Thomas Goldstraw, a powerfully built man from Leek and a noted drummer, dropped his drum when the soldiers charged and quickly fled from Burslem back the way he had come, unaware at first that his son who had been nearby at the time had been shot through the thigh and was lying wounded in a field just outside the town. According to the storyteller, Goldstraw junior was later placed on a cart and transported to the surgery of an obliging physician, Dr Wright at Norton-in-the-Moors, who soon had him back on his feet again.

As the military swept past into the Moorland Road, a portion of the mob from the direction of Hanley, rallied and began throwing stones at the body of special constables, who advanced to the conflict in a dense mass, playing away with their truncheons, and completely routed the mob in that quarter. After the soldiers had charged a short distance up the Smallthorne Road, they were halted and recalled: their job was done as the mob, which just before had consisted of five or six thousand people was completely dispersed and the danger to Burslem had passed.

Reference: Staffordshire Mercury, 20 August 1842; Staffordshire Advertiser, 20 August 1842, p.3;  John Wilcox Edge ‘Burslem fifty years ago’, quoted in Carmel Dennison’s Burslem:People and Buildings, Buildings and People, (Stoke-on-Trent, 1996), pp. 36-37; Leek: Fifty Years Ago, (Leek, 1887), p.107 and 121.

Reg Mitchell Takes the Proverbial

Colin Melbourne's statue of R. J. Mitchell
outside the Potteries Museum and Art Gallery,
Hanley.

In 1911, long before he went on to design his world-beating racing planes and later the Supermarine Spitfire, 16 year old Reginald Joseph Mitchell, served a local apprenticeship. Originally from Butt Lane near Kidsgrove, but raised in Normacot, Reg was enrolled as a lowly apprentice engineer at Messrs Kerr, Stuart and Co, locomotive engineers in Fenton. Before moving on to the drawing office where he would make his name, he like the other apprentices had to spend time in the workshops getting his hands dirty working on the firm's machines. Reg's pragmatic father Herbert saw this as a sensible grounding for his ambitious son, but young Mitchell loathed this introduction to his profession, hating the grime-caked overalls he had to wear and the monotony of the work that kept him from what he really wanted to do. He was also less than enamoured with the workshop foreman.

One of the first jobs that Reg had when he started at Kerr, Stuart was the traditional one of tea boy, brewing up for the other apprentices and the foreman, the latter, though regularly complained that Mitchell's tea tasted like piss. Tired of his grumbling, Reg decided that if that was what he thought, then that was what he would get. The next morning Reg arrived at work and as normal took the kettle to the wash room, but instead of filling it with water he urinated into it, then boiled the kettle and made tea. Warning his fellow apprentices not to drink, Reg served the foreman as usual. The man took a sip, then a larger gulp and said, “Bloody good cup of tea, Mitchell, why can't you make it like this every day?” 

Reference: Gordon Mitchell, R.J. Mitchell, from Schooldays to Spitfire, pp. 21- 25