Showing posts with label legend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label legend. Show all posts

09 November 2024

White Rabbit

According to the tale told, in the 19th century the Etruria Grove, a copse planted on the orders of Josiah Wedgwood near to his factory alongside the Trent and Mersey canal, was haunted by a curious phantom. Travellers that way reported hearing the terrified cries of a child after which a ghostly milk-white rabbit would appear in the road in front of them. According to local historian Henry Wedgwood, most locals avoided the area or hurried on through, though one man who encountered the ghost rabbit tried to catch it, but merely ended up with a dislocated shoulder for his pains. This phantom is said to have been conjured by the murder of a young boy, the terrified screams that heralded the appearance of the rabbit were said to be the sound of the young lad being killed in that secluded spot and presumably the animal-form that followed was a manifestation of the child’s soul seeking justice, or simply trying to find his way home.

The murder that supposedly raised this restless spirit was, alas, all too real. At about 10.30 a.m., on Sunday 4 August 1833, engraver Thomas Davies from Shelton, was out searching for a wasp’s nest in Crabtree Field adjoining the canal towpath near to Macaroni Bridge, Etruria, when he found the body of a young boy lying face down in a water-filled ditch with a length of packer’s cord wrapped around his neck. Fetching assistance, he and another man quickly fished the body out and transported it to the nearby Etruria Inn before sending for the local Constable and fire brigade chief Steven Johnson, who was soon joined by Hanley Constable Charles Rhodes; the two men immediately set about investigating the killing. 

The corpse was soon identified as that of John Holdcroft, a boy of nine years of age, whose parents had been desperately searching for him since the previous evening when he failed to return home to Burslem after leaving his place of work. John had worked for a potter named Hawley in Burslem and when the constables went to enquire there they learnt that young John had left the premises at 6pm on Saturday evening in the company of another of Hawley’s employees, an older boy, 15 year old Charles Shaw. Shaw was a relative newcomer to the area being from Swinton in Yorkshire and was lodging locally with his grandfather. As a result many witnesses did not know his name, but they knew John Holdcroft and several people saw the two boys together along the canal at Etruria on Saturday evening, some noting that the older boy was carrying a piece of packer’s cord like that found around Holdcroft’s neck. When questioned by Constable Charles Rhodes on Sunday afternoon, Shaw first claimed that he had left Holdcroft by the canal with a stranger whom he described as ‘a gambler’, the implication being that this stranger had done Holdcroft in. The constable, though, was dubious, the evidence against Shaw was strong and when Rhodes discovered blood on the boy’s shirt that he had tried to hide by dabbing clay over it, the constable immediately arrested him. The boy then accused a fellow Yorkshireman named John Baddeley who lived nearby, of the killing, but on investigation the man had a solid alibi. Shaw was committed to Stafford gaol to await trial, while John Holdcroft was buried at St Paul’s, Burslem on 7 August 1833.

When Shaw’s case went to trial at Stafford in late March 1834, the prosecution argued that a trifling amount of money was at the root of the killing, as both boys had been paid by Hawley the day before, but while Holdcroft had received 1s, 6d, Shaw because of stoppages and money he owed, only received 4d to take home. The theory was that the boys had been gambling and Shaw envious of Holdcroft’s money had fleeced the younger boy of all his wages. When Holdcroft tried to get some money back, a fight had started that resulted in his death, possibly by a beating followed by strangulation. When the younger boy's body was found the next day the money was missing and Shaw meantime seems to have gone on a spending spree that he could not have afforded. This sudden wealth, plus the rope, a footprint at the scene that matched his boots and the evidence of the witnesses weighed heavily against Charles Shaw and he was quickly found guilty of the murder and sentenced to hang.

Judge Patteson, presiding, was clearly uncomfortable sentencing one so young to death and perhaps to his relief several days later some doubt was thrown on the murder conviction. Shaw’s mother gave sworn testimony that her son had told her that Holdcroft had died from hitting his head against a railing after Shaw knocked him down, and the rope had merely been used to drag the body to the ditch. Probably as a result of this new evidence and the questions it raised, Charles Shaw’s death sentence was commuted to one of transportation for life and he was held in prison until the next year, when he was one of 280 convicts loaded aboard the ship Norfolk which sailed from Sheerness on 14 May 1835. Arriving in Van Diemen's Land (Tasmania) in on 28 August that year, Shaw was first incarcerated in the Point Puer Juvenile Penal Station and later the Port Arthur Penal Station in Tasmania. His records seem to indicate that he was an habitual troublemaker from beginning to end, being subjected to numerous whippings and solitary confinements for his bad or disruptive behaviour, though many were for minor infractions. From the late 1840s, Shaw put in numerous requests for a conditional pardon, but was refused many times, only finally being granted one in March 1851. His fate after that remains unknown. 

Reference: E. J. D. Warrillow, History of Etruria, p.135; The Staffordshire Advertiser, 10 August 1833, p.3; 22 March 1834, p.2; The Monmouthshire Merlin, 5 April 1834, p.1; Tasmanian Names Index/Libraries Tasmania, online resource.

23 January 2018

The Curious Case of the Dwarf and the Bulldog.

Brummy and Physic battle it out.
Low Life Deeps.
In a detailed and lurid article published on 6 July 1874 in the Daily Telegraph, investigative journalist James Greenwood claimed that several days earlier on 24 June, during a brief stopover in the Potteries, where he hoped to find evidence of illegal organised dog fighting, he and a large crowd of onlookers had instead witnessed a brutal fight in a cellar in Shelton between a grizzled, muscular dwarf named Brummy and a ferocious bulldog named Physic, a battle that the man had barely won. The national scandal that resulted from this shocking article seriously embarrassed the area for a time and questions were even asked in Parliament. 

However, all was not quite as it seemed and once the initial furore had died down the tables were  quickly turned on Mr Greenwood, as subsequent investigations by the police, the local authority, other newspapers and the RSPCA, not only highlighted the numerous glaring discrepancies in Greenwood's tale, but more tellingly found no absolutely evidence whatsoever that such a fight had taken place. Rather than sticking rigidly to the story he had spun, Greenwood then started to back-peddle, changing or mitigating parts of the tale to excuse himself and explain why there was no proof to be found, all of which excited a great deal of derision from other papers. The upshot of it all was that within a few weeks it was widely concluded that Greenwood had simply made the story up, or adapted a dubious scrap of Staffordshire folklore that he may have heard during his stay in the area. Following the RSPCA’s investigation and the report they sent in to the government, the Home Secretary of the time came to the same conclusion and on 20 July wrote a reply to the Hanley Watch Committee, which stated that he was satisfied that the story of the fight was false. 

Greenwood had thus been called a liar at the highest level and Hanley’s good name was restored, but mud sticks, and the tale rankled with the people of the Potteries for a good while after. In 1907, Arnold Bennett summed up the lingering ill-will towards the reporter and his tall tale in his famous short story ‘The Death of Simon Fuge’. 

‘The only man who stands a chance of getting his teeth knocked down his throat here is the ingenious person who started the celebrated legend of the man-and-dog fight at Hanbridge. It's a long time ago, a very long time ago; but his grey hairs wont save him from horrible tortures if we catch him. We don't mind being called immoral, we're above a bit flattered when London newspapers come out with shocking details of debauchery in the Five Towns, but we pride ourselves on our manners.’ 

Reference: James Greenwood, Low Life Deeps; Staffordshire Sentinel, July 1874; numerous national newspapers and magazines July 1874.