Dickens, the Dodo and the Dinner Plate

On 1 April 1852, the writer Charles Dickens wrote a letter to his wife Kate informing her ‘We think of going on tonight from Birmingham to Stoke upon Trent.’ Despite worries about the trains, it seems that he and a travelling companion arrived in Stoke the next morning. Here after gazing with some fascination at the town before him, the famous author (who at the time was also writing up weekly instalments of his longest book, Bleak House) spent a few hours at the Spode factory which was at that period owned by W. T. Copeland. Here he apparently watched a thrower and his attendant swiftly and skilfully fashion a breakfast set for his amusement, watched jiggerers and pressers making bowls and basins and saw Parian statuettes being produced in moulds. He then explored the factory kilns, seeing the saggars being stacked prior to firing and mused on the constant cycle of heating and cooling that accompanied the manufacture of pottery. This was followed by visits to see transferers and decorators at work, producing willow pattern wares or fancier stuff, before moving on to the dipping shop for glazing and then to the placers carefully loading the ware into the appropriate saggers prior to them being loaded into the kilns he had seen earlier. Dickens seems to have enjoyed his tour and it was doubtless a thrill for the workers at the Copeland works to meet, albeit briefly, one of the biggest celebrities of the Victorian age and show him their own impressive skills. Armed with all he had seen and imbibing a good working knowledge of the history and process of pottery making, Charles Dickens moved on the next day to Stafford.

Compared to the grime and industry of the Potteries that evidently spoke to his imagination, Dickens was bored with Stafford and rather rude about the place, ‘it is as dull and dead a town as any one could desire not to see’ he wrote tartly. He lodged at the Swan Inn, which he disparagingly nicknamed ‘the Dodo’ and where he apparently seemed doomed to spend a very dull evening indeed. According to the tale he told, though, he chanced to look at the bottom of a plate and saw the name ‘COPELAND’, which set him to musing on the previous day’s events. Employing a literary conceit, he then let the plate ‘remind’ him of all he had seen at Copeland’s pot bank, telling the story outlined above as a journey through its creation. The plate’s ‘recollections’ got Dickens through the evening, so he claimed, though one might suppose that he was actually quite busy putting his recollections down on paper. His clever bit of writing, ‘A Plated Article’, was published in the magazine Household Words, on 24 April 1852. 

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.

A Swedish Spy in the Valley of Crockery

A portrait of R. R. Angerstein in 1755.
Source: Wikimedia Commons

A visitor to the mid-18th century Potteries was Reinhold Rücker Angerstein, an industrial spy in the employ of the Swedish government, who was tasked with gathering information on new or emerging technology. Between 1753 and 1755, he journeyed through England and Wales and produced a wide-ranging and comprehensive survey of the various industries and their practices. He appears to have visited the Staffordshire Potteries, which he labels rather colourfully as a ‘Valley of Crockery’, in about 1755. Here, after examining the manufacture of salt-glazed wares, describing the kilns in Hanley (including illustrations), the raw materials used, the prices of ware and various mechanisms employed in producing pottery (with still more pictures), he went on to add a few descriptions of the area that make for interesting reading.

He notes that in Hanley there were 430 makers of white ware and other types of pottery, adding ‘The kilns are everywhere in this district.’ and to prove his point he includes an illustration of the skyline of the town. There were also large numbers of potteries in Stoke and other places, ‘where mostly the same kind of ware as that enumerated is made and also some simpler crockery.’ He then adds a picturesque and slightly comical tale. ‘When as it sometimes happens, many kilns are glazing with salt at the same time, there is such a thick smoke of salt in these towns, that people in the streets cannot see 6 feet ahead, which, however does not cause any difficulties. On the contrary, the smoke is considered so healthy that people who are ill come here from far away to breathe it.’

Of the pottery itself, he writes, ‘The crockery produced is mainly sent to London or other sea ports, from which much of it is exported to America and many other foreign countries.’

R. R. Angerstein’s Illustrated Travel Diary 1753-1755, pp. 340-342.

See a Fine Lady upon a White Horse

Between 1697 and 1702, partly from a wish to improve her health and from an equally strong desire to see more of her native land, Lady Celia Fiennes (whom some claim was the fine lady at Banbury Cross from the children's nursery rhyme) undertook a series of journeys around England. In the summer of 1698, her peregrinations brought her into North Staffordshire. Here, after admiring the as yet unsullied landscape, she was keen to visit the Elers Brothers' factory at Bradwell, but as she notes in her diary she was unsuccessful; the potters had temporarily run out of clay and were not working.

'..and then to Trentum, and passed by a great house of Mr Leveson Gore, and went on the side of a high hill below which the River Trent ran and turn’d its silver stream forward and backward into s’s which Looked very pleasant Circling about ye fine meadows in their flourishing tyme bedecked with hay almost Ripe and flowers. 6 mile more to NewCastle under Line.'

After ruminating briefly on the 'coals to Newcastle' adage, she continued. 

'… I went to this NewCastle in Staffordshire to see the makeing of ye fine tea potts. Cups and saucers of ye fine red Earth in imitation and as Curious as yt wch Comes from China, but was defeated in my design, they. Comeing to an End of their Clay they made use of for yt sort of ware, and therefore was remov’d to some other place where they were not settled at their work so Could not see it;'

Reference: Celia Fiennes, Through England On a Side Saddle in the Time of William and Mary, pp.146-147.

A Crime of Passion

Brownhills Hall, from an engraving made some years later.
Source: John Ward, The Borough of Stoke-Upon Trent (1848)

In 1796 whilst visiting Brownhills Hall, near Burslem, the home of wealthy pottery manufacturer John Wood and his family, a young apothecary named Thomas Millward Oliver, became enamoured of the Wood's teenage daughter Maria, a noted local beauty, who returned his affections. Oliver came of a respectable Stourbridge family and as a well educated, popular and respected medical man locally, he would seem to have been the perfect suitor for Maria Wood. Certainly Oliver himself believed this and he thought at first that Mr Wood actively encouraged him in his courtship of the young woman. In this, though Oliver was wrong and when John Wood learned of the affair he quickly put a stop to Oliver’s visits, professional or otherwise, and had forbidden the young couple to meet. This threw Thomas Oliver into a fit of lovelorn despair that festered for some time before coming to a head early the next year in the most dramatic fashion.

At 8 am on 27 January 1797, Oliver arrived unannounced at Brownhills Hall and asked to see John Wood. Mr Wood was in bed, but on hearing of his visitor and thinking that the apothecary had come to present his final bill, he went to his Compting House behind the hall and asked his foreman William Bathwell to bring Oliver down to see him. Bathwell went, but returned without Oliver who had sent word that he would wait for Mr Wood in the parlour. So, along with his foreman, a slightly puzzled Mr Wood returned to the hall to see what his visitor wanted. Here the two men greeted each other coolly but politely and as expected Oliver presented his bill, but hardly had he done so than he drew two pistols that he had recently borrowed from a neighbour and pointed one at Mr Wood, asking him to take it. Mr Wood refused and Oliver lowered the gun for a moment, but then brought it up again and fired directly at Wood who was struck in the right breast. Oliver then raised the second pistol, perhaps to shoot himself, but Bathwell threw himself on the man and knocked the gun from his hand. Others in the house alerted by the noise soon rushed into the room to help the struggling foreman and tend to the injured man. The wounded Mr Wood was then quickly carried upstairs to his bed and a doctor was called for, while Oliver, now aghast at what he had done, was handed over to the local constables.

John Wood had been mortally wounded and died three days later, being buried in Burslem on 2 February 1797; he was only 50 years old. Oliver meanwhile was left languishing in Stafford Gaol until the Summer assizes that year. Here on a sweltering day in August he was put on trial on a charge of murder and though many witnesses came forward to speak of his gentle nature and good deeds, or argued that the act took place due to temporary insanity, the evidence against him was overwhelming and Thomas Oliver was quickly sentenced to death. 

During his time in prison, Oliver is said to have impressed everyone, prisoners and gaolers alike, with his courteous behaviour and his obedience of the rules. All were struck by the calm and dignified manner in which he accepted his fate and in which he finally met his end. On Monday 28 August 1797, he displayed this same calm manner as he mounted the scaffold above the prison gatehouse, bowing to the large crowd that had gathered below to watch. Moments later the noose was placed around his neck and the trap door opened. Apothecary Thomas Millward Oliver, aged just 28, died without a murmur. 

Reference: Trial of T. Milward Oliver at Stafford Summer Assizes, 1797

Vinegar and Vanity

Some of the unusual and dangerous practices indulged in by teenage girls to make themselves look attractive, were highlighted in 1901 in the tragic case of 15 year old Florence Henrietta Burton of Longton, who met an untimely end in the pursuit of beauty.

Florence was the youngest of four children born in late 1885 to coal miner Samuel Burton and his wife Harriet. Her father had died a few years after Florence’s birth and her mother had remarried, though by 1901, she was again a widow living at 3 Adam Place, Longton with her 18 year old son John Thomas Burton a potter’s presser, Florence who was a potter’s gilder, and an elderly boarder. The census was the last official document to record Florence alive, as the final act of a bizarre drama was playing out in the Burton family home.

For some time her mother Harriet had been getting increasingly worried about Florence, who had started drinking large amounts of vinegar and eating lemons. She had spoken to her daughter about it, but to no avail, the girl would scarcely eat anything without pickles or something else acidic. Florence’s friend Julia Brain later revealed that she knew that Florence had obtained large quantities of lemons from a local fruit shop ‘on trust’ and said that she had also seen her pour out a glass of vinegar, pour salt into it and drink it. When quizzed as to the reason for this Julia said it was to try and make her complexion ‘pale and nice’ giving her skin a translucent quality to make her more attractive; but in truth Florence’s beauty regime was gradually killing her. The end came suddenly in June 1901 when Florence was at work and suffered chest pains that made her so ill that she had to go back home. Once there she reportedly suffered a fit and died shortly afterwards.

As a result of her sudden death, a post-mortem was carried out by a Dr Howells, who reported to the inquest into the girl’s death that Florence had died due to heart disease caused by her unusual diet. Her practice of consuming large amounts of vinegar, salt and lemons would, he said, ‘disorganise the whole system, upset digestion and cause the person to be half-starved, though well and apparently well nourished.’

The Coroner, clearly flabbergasted by what he had heard, asked the surgeon, “Why do girls do these things?” Dr Howells answered, “To make them pale and interesting-looking. They like to look transparent.” - “And it kills them?” - “It does.” The Coroner commented on the folly of such practices and the jury returned a verdict of ‘Death from Natural Causes.’ 

Reference: Birmingham Mail, 28 June 1901, p.4; Coventry Evening Telegraph 28 June 1901, p.2.)

England Expects

'The Battle of Trafalgar' by William Clarkson Stanfield
Source: Wikimedia Commons

On 21 October 1805, a British fleet of 27 ships commanded by Admiral Horatio Nelson caught up with and attacked a combined Franco-Spanish fleet of 33 ships off Cape Trafalgar between Cadiz and the Strait of Gibraltar. In the battle that followed, Nelson was mortally wounded by a sharpshooter, but before he died he heard the news that his fleet had inflicted a devastating defeat on the enemy force, capturing 20 ships, thus ending for good any lingering threat of a French invasion of Britain. It was also a victory that established British naval dominance for the next century. 

Admiralty records held at The National Archives in Kew, clearly show that despite hailing from so landlocked a region several men from the Potteries were involved in this decisive sea battle. Two of them served together aboard Nelson’s flagship, HMS Victory.

Corporal William Taft, Royal Marines, HMS Victory

Depending on which of his records you believe, William Taft, was born in Hanley Green (present-day Hanley town centre) in either 1775 or 1777, though the earlier date seems the most likely. There is no trace of his birth or of his parents locally, though their records like many others may have been lost when the registers of St John’s church in Hanley were destroyed in the Pottery Riots in 1842. Army and Royal Marine records, though, make up the deficit somewhat and through them we learn that William was the son of Ralph and Hannah Taft. In his teens he worked briefly as a potter, before he enlisted in the army in early 1793, joining the 11th Light Dragoons. He served with that regiment for just over two years before transferring to the 27th Light Dragoons on 25 April 1795. Records show that he was a smallish man being only 5’ 4¼” tall, (he was listed as 5’ 5” as a Royal Marine) with a fresh complexion, dark brown hair and brown eyes and the fact that he always signed with his mark reveals that like many common soldiers he was illiterate. Military life seemed to agree with him, though, and Taft remained with the 27th Light Dragoons until 20 October 1801, when for reasons unspecified he was invalided out of the service.

For a time Taft found employment as a labourer, but was soon drawn back to military service, though not this time in the army, enlisting instead in the Royal Marines at Rochester (probably the town in Kent) on 13 April 1803, where he joined Nº16 Company of the Chatham Division. Four days later Private Taft was posted as part of the marine detachment aboard HMS Victory. This big three decker first-rate ship of the line had just undergone an expensive reconstruction at Chatham dockyard and with its new crew on board in May it set sail for Portsmouth. Once there, the ship was joined by Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson who chose Victory as his flagship.

The ship was in the Mediterranean when on 5 March 1805, William Taft was raised to corporal and he served in that capacity during Nelson’s dash across the Atlantic in pursuit of the Franco-Spanish fleet and later at Trafalgar. As the lead ship of the weather division, Victory was in the thick of the action from the beginning of the battle, crippling the French ship Bucentaure with it’s first broadside before becoming involved in a protracted fight with another French ship Redoutable and the ship’s company suffered many casualties as a result, most notably Admiral Nelson, who was shot by a French marksman and taken below where he subsequently died. Corporal Taft was another of the injured, badly wounded in the upper left arm during the fighting; his shattered limb could not be saved and was amputated at the neck of the humerus (i.e., just below the shoulder ball joint). Surviving the fight, the amputation and a violent storm that nearly wrecked the battered warships after the battle, Taft was admitted to the hospital in Gibraltar on 29 October 1805, being formally dismissed from Victory’s crew on 4 November 1805. On 10 January 1806, Taft was transferred to the hospital ship Sussex for transport home and just over a month later on 11 February and presumably back in Britain, he was discharged at headquarters. Only three other documents list his progress after that; on 3 March he was dismissed from the Royal Marines as an invalid and the next day he received a pension of £8. Then on 7 April in the Rough Entry Book for Pensioners we learn that he was a married man and was lodging at the Wheat Sheaf, Market Place, Greenwich. His fate after that is unknown.

Like all the surviving sailors and Marines who fought at Trafalgar, William Taft was also awarded prize money of £1 17s 8d and granted a Parliamentary award of £4 12s 6d. Presumably because of his career-ending injury, Taft also received £40 from the Lloyds Patriotic Fund.

Private William Bagley, Royal Marines, HMS Victory

William Bagley was born in Stoke in about 1774, though nothing is known about his parents, nor much about his early years, though at some point prior to serving in the Royal Marines he spent 4 years and six months as a soldier in the 4th Dragoons. He seems to have been married, certainly he had a daughter named Susannah who later lived in Hanley, but there are no local records of who William’s wife was, nor of Susannah, these again may have been victims of the records burnt in the riots in 1842. After his army service William may have returned to the Potteries as he was listed as having worked as a potter prior to joining the Royal Marines.

He enlisted in the Royal Marines on the same day as William Taft, 13 April 1803, and although Bagley was posted to Company 7 of the Chatham Division there seems to have been a connection between the two men, perhaps they were friends. It is notable too that after Bagley and William Taft were both posted to HMS Victory on 17 April, they were always listed together, Bagley and then Taft, in the ship’s muster roll. On his enlistment William Bagley was described as being 5’ 10” tall, with dark hair and a fresh complexion.

Unlike Taft, Bagley was never promoted, but he was much luckier during the battle of Trafalgar and survived the encounter uninjured. After the battle Victory was towed to Gibraltar for repairs before returning to Britain in December 1805. Bagley was discharged from the ship on 17 January 1806 at Chatham, but on 26 January he suffered a serious fall at headquarters and died from his injuries. He did not collect his prize money from the battle which was donated to the Greenwich hospital, while his personal effects were returned to his daughter Susannah in Hanley.

Private Richard Beckett, Royal Marines, HMS Royal Sovereign

Private Richard Beckett was a 24 year old from Burslem, 5’ 6” tall with light hair a fair complexion and grey eyes and prior to enlisting had worked locally as a potter. He had enlisted in the Royal Marines at Stafford on 2 May 1803 and served for 7 months with the Chatham Division before being moved to the Portsmouth Division where on 31 August 1805 he was posted as part of the Royal Marine detachment aboard HMS Royal Sovereign. Like Victory, this ship was a first-rate three decker and at Trafalgar she served as the flagship of Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood, the second-in-command of the fleet. The ship had recently had her keel re-coppered and as a result she was a very fast sailer, a fact which showed as she led the lee squadron of the fleet into battle, racing ahead of the other British ships and being the first to break the enemy line. 

For most of the battle Royal Sovereign fought with a Spanish ship the Santa Ana. Both vessels suffered heavy casualties before the Santa Ana surrendered, but Private Beckett was uninjured. Like everyone in the fleet he was entitled to prize money, £1 17s 8d in his case, but did not collect it and the money was instead donated to the Greenwich hospital. He did, though pick up the Parliamentary award of £4 12s 6d given to men of his rank. He was illiterate and signed his mark.

Private Joseph Sergeant, Royal Marines, HMS Prince

Joseph Sergeant was born in Clayton in about 1775 or 1776. He worked briefly as a glazier, but on 10 January 1798 at Kidderminster he enlisted in the Royal Marines. On his enlistment he was described as 5’ 5” tall with brown hair and a fresh complexion. A member of Company 37 of the Chatham Division on 22 December 1803, Sergeant joined the marine contingent aboard HMS Prince a second-rate ship of the line attached to the Channel Fleet which by October 1805 was part of Nelson’s fleet set to engage the Franco-Spanish fleet at Trafalgar. A slow ship, Prince was passed by most of her division as they sailed into battle and by the time the ship arrived at the fighting the battle was nearly over, though opening fire on a couple of enemy ships Prince managed to set fire to and de-mast the French ship Achille. Prince launched boats to rescue Achille’s crew and managed this before the ship exploded. HMS Prince suffered no damage and took no casualties and proved herself a real godsend in the week of storms that followed the battle, rescuing numerous crews from sinking ships and transporting then safely to Gibraltar before going back for more.

Sergeant received his share of the prize money of £1 17s 8d from the battle but did not collect the healtheier parliamentary award and the money went to the Greenwich hospital. He stayed aboard HMS Prince and just over a year later on 12 November 1806, he was promoted to the rank of corporal of 58 Company. On 20 December 1808 he was promoted once more to sergeant of 55 Company. He remained in the Royal Marines until he was disbanded from the service on 13 September 1814. What happened to him after that, though, is unknown.

Private William Shield, Royal Marines, HMS Defiance

William Shield was born in Newcastle, Staffordshire in about 1778 and initially worked as a papermaker. He enlisted in the Royal Marines at Banbury on 14 July 1803 and attached to Company 101 of the Portsmouth Division. Only nine days later he was assigned to HMS Defiance, a remarkably short amount of time, which may indicate that Shield already possessed some military experience. He was described as being 5’ 5” tall with light hair, light eyes and a fair complexion.

HMS Defiance was a nimble 74 gun third-rate ship of the line that prior to Trafalgar saw action at the battle of Cape Finisterre on 22 July 1805. At Trafalgar the ship captured two enemy vessels, storming the French ship Aigle with a full boarding party. Defiance suffered serious casualties as a result with 57 killed and 153 wounded, but Shield managed to get through the battle uninjured.

Shield collected £1 17s and 8d, his share of the prize money and stayed in the service until he was discharged on 16 October 1815 with ‘impared sight’. What course his life took after this is unknown, but he was still alive in 1847 when he applied for and received the Naval General Service Medal with the Trafalgar Clasp.

John Bitts, Landsman, HMS Naiad

John Bitts claimed to have been born in Stoke, Staffordshire, but as with many of the other men here nothing is known of his background or family, no local records mention him. He was aged 24 at the time of the battle of Trafalgar which puts his date of birth in 1781 or 1780. He seems to have been illiterate, signing with his mark and no indication is given as to how he had ended up in the navy, save that he joined the crew of the Naiad on 17 March 1803 as a volunteer. His ship was part of Nelson’s fleet at Trafalgar, but being a small frigate Naiad kept out of the fighting between the bigger ships, though she was involved in the mopping up after the fighting ended. He escaped the battle uninjured and unlike many Bitts claimed both the prize money of £1 17s 8d and the Parliamentary award of £4 12s 6d. Nothing is known of his life and career after Trafalgar.

John Williams, Carpenter’s Crew, HMS Leviathan

According to his navy records, John Williams was born in Stoke, Staffordshire, in about 1778, but nothing more is known about his early life. The records state that he had been pressed into the navy and that prior to joining the Leviathan on 24 February 1803, he had served aboard the frigate HMS Pegasus in the Mediterranean. As part of the carpenter’s crew, Williams would have worked to keep the ship in a good seaworthy condition. The Leviathan was a 74 gun third rate ship of the line and at Trafalgar was one of the ships of the weather squadron that followed HMS Victory into battle, where she captured a Spanish vessel. Williams got through the battle uninjured and later received prize money of £1 17s 8d.

Reference: The National Archives, ADM 44 Dead Seamen's Effects; ADM 73 Rough Entry Book of Pensioners; ADM 82 Chatham Chest: ADM 102.

In Glorious Biocolour

In the early to mid 1920s, a pioneering film maker Claude Friese-Greene and his assistant, drove a car from Land's End to John O'Groats. Using a specially developed process of early colour photography christened 'biocolour', their journey was immortalised in a documentary The Open Road, the purpose of which was to show off the new process. Due to film limitations only a narrow spectrum of blues, greens and reds could be captured by Friese-Greene's method, nevertheless the result was an impressive colourful snapshot of Britain in the 1920s.

To show off his colour photography to its best advantage, Friese-Greene mostly filmed rural scenes, the bucolic imagery of which suited his additive process, but there were occasional forays into industrial areas and one of these was in the Potteries and internal evidence suggests that the visit took place in 1926. After a brief panoramic view of the district from some high vantage point, Friese-Greene then visited the Wedgwood factory at Etruria. Here he found to his delight that he was able to film indoors quite easily due to the large expanse of windows in the workshops. He filmed a thrower at work and paintresses putting finishing touches to the wares. This was followed by a perhaps overlong display of Wedgwood wares from vibrant lustres to the more subdued colours of the famous Portland vase.

Suffice to say, though ingenious, Friese-Greene's technique never took off, losing out to the more versatile Technicolor. As a result, his film went into storage and remained unseen for 80 years until it was restored and aired in 2006 in a BBC documentary entitled The Lost World of Friese-Greene.

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.

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.

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.