The Last Bottle Oven Firing

The kiln used for the firing at the Hudson and Middleton factory, Longton.

On 29 August 1978, the last ever firing of pottery in a coal-fired bottle kiln began. The Clean Air Act of 1956 had made it illegal to produce masses of black smoke in urban areas, which forced the local potteries to finally switch over from the old bottle ovens to new gas and electric kilns. However, two decades later, to raise funds for the repair of its own ovens but also to document the process before all knowledge died out completely, Gladstone Pottery Museum in Longton, was given leave to carry out one last traditional firing. The kiln chosen for the job was a quick firing glost china oven at the nearby Hudson and Middleton factory and the museum produced a selection of wares including plates, bowls, character jugs and tygs for this final load. Many local factories also provided ware to be fired. The man placed in charge of the firing was 73 year old Alfred Clough a former pottery manufacturer, who was aided by other former firemen, ovenmen and placers plus numerous volunteers from Gladstone. These helped in preparing and loading the kiln and on this day at 12.45 pm, the last of the fires were lit by Mr Clough's 11 year old grandson. The firing went without a hitch and 32 hours later the fires were extinguished and the kiln was allowed to cool for three days, being emptied on 2 September. 

Reference: Evening Sentinel, 29 August – 2 September 1978.

Death of a Lady Artist

Image reproduced with kind permission of The British
Newspaper Archive (www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk)

Late in the evening of 18 January 1899, Mr Richard Smith of Stoke was walking along Bagnall Street, Hanley alongside the Victoria Hall, when he was startled by the sound of a gunshot nearby. There was no one else in sight, but he noticed that across the road, a door beside a small medical dispensary was standing part-way open. Peeking carefully through the opening into a dark passageway beyond he spotted a body lying on the floor a pistol in its hand. Alarmed, he dashed to the police office around the corner in the Town Hall and returned moments later accompanied by an inspector and several policemen. When they reached the passage they found 51 year old Dr John Craig who ran the dispensary examining the body of a woman who had clearly shot herself in the head. They could make out little more in the dark, but when the doctor announced that the woman was still breathing the police brought a stretcher and together they carried her across to the police parade room. Hardly had they got into the well-lit yard, though than Dr Craig let out a cry having recognised the woman before him. The man was visibly shocked and while a senior officer took him aside for questioning the police searched the injured woman for clues to her identity.

Going through her pockets they found numerous items: some money, a few keys, a packet of arnica, a left luggage receipt from Stoke Station and several newspaper clippings, one of which carried a few lines from Tennyson’s poem, Sea Dreams.

‘……. he that wrongs his friend

Wrongs himself more, and ever bears about

A silent court of justice in his breast,’

There were also receipts for recorded letters and a cryptic inscription on a visiting card that indicated a strong connection with Dr Craig. These along with the doctor’s own faltering statement soon identified the woman as Catherine Devine, a 43 year old artist from Chelsea. The doctor explained how he knew her and what he believed had just happened here and why. The lady herself, though, did not live to give an account of her actions, dying from her wound at 10 p.m., without regaining consciousness.

Present-day Bagnall Street, Hanley.

The full story of the connection between Catherine Devine and Dr John Craig came to light two days later in front of a packed court at the coroner’s inquest into her death. Here, Dr Craig revealed that he and Catherine had known one another for about 25 years, having first met in her home city of Edinburgh. It was there that John Craig had trained as a doctor, being licensed in 1869 and shortly afterwards he had married Ellen Macintyre a native of the Potteries, before moving to the area and setting up his practice in Hanley. His wife had given him a son and daughter, but in December 1874 she died at the age of 25, leaving him a widower with two young children on his hands.

Among his late wife's friends were Eliza and Catherine Devine of Edinburgh, daughters of a well-known and wealthy family of Scottish artists. Eliza had agreed to paint a posthumous portrait of Mrs Craig and whilst visiting their studio in 1876 to see how work progressed, Dr Craig had met and become so smitten with the younger sister Catherine, that he had been contemplating asking her to marry him. They corresponded for a time, but his marriage hopes had faded a short time later, when Catherine and several members of her family emigrated to New Zealand in 1878. Robbed of his potential bride the doctor had little choice but to get on with his life as a single parent and as the years passed he became very content with this state of affairs.

Catherine remained in New Zealand and later Australia for eleven years, carving out a moderately successful career as an artist, but in 1889 she returned to Britain. Settling in a studio flat in Glebe Street, Chelsea, her skills soon saw her supplying artwork for several London fashion magazines and eventually holding an exhibition of her works. To this she invited several old friends including Dr Craig. This restarted their acquaintance and they corresponded intermittently for a few years until Catherine was invited to spend Christmas with the Craigs at their house at Mossley near Congleton. During this visit, Dr Craig innocently noted to Catherine in conversation that prior to her departure to New Zealand he had contemplated asking her to marry him, and was surprised when she immediately asked him why he could not ask her now? The doctor replied that time had altered his circumstances, that he was content and he now had no thought of marrying anyone. Catherine seemed to accept that at the time, but the remark had struck a chord with this brilliant but lonely woman and she soon started to obsess over the matter.

Apparently oblivious to what he had started, Dr Craig extended another invitation for Catherine to stay once again a few months after this, but she soon upset the situation by again urging Dr Craig to marry her. He again refused and the next morning, whilst he was out, Catherine left the house under a cloud. Returning to find her gone, Dr Craig was left feeling very angry at her behaviour and that might have been the end of the matter, but a few months later he received a conciliatory letter from Catherine and he agreed to meet with her at her home in London when he visited the capital for Queen Victoria’s Jubilee in 1897. After watching the festivities he did indeed call on Catherine, prepared to let bygones be bygones, but when she again raised the subject of marriage he left in disgust and vowed never to visit her again.

Catherine then began to bombard Dr Craig with a series of scathing letters on his conduct that were followed more often than not by apologetic letters or telegrams asking him to reply. The doctor did reply to some to try and calm her down, especially when she began to threaten to kill herself. However, staggered by the barrage of letters he began to receive and the increasingly erratic mood swings of his would-be paramour, Dr Craig started to burn many of the letters unopened.

This state of affairs had carried on for the best part of a year, during which time Dr Craig had attempted to maintain his distance from Catherine. The death of her mother, though, in October 1898, seems to have made him sympathetically disposed towards her once more and shortly afterwards he met her again during a visit to London. He found her in a miserable state and recalled that she was in tears most of the time. Her one consolation was that she now wrung a promise from the doctor that if he would not marry her then he would marry no one else, an assurance he was happy to give. She also asked if she might be invited for Christmas once more if she avoided the question of marriage. Dr Craig told her that he and his daughter were in the process of moving into a house in Hanley adjoining his practice and would anyhow be in Northumberland visiting his mother over Christmas. He promised her, though, that once they had moved in after New Year, that she would be invited for a visit. Satisfied with this, Catherine parted amicably with Dr Craig and eagerly waited for the invitation to arrive.

Sure enough a few weeks later a letter did come, but the news it contained flung Catherine back into a rage. Dr Craig wrote to her saying that due to the work needed on the new house and because his daughter would be going abroad for a while, he did not feel that he could accommodate Catherine before his daughter’s return in March; in effect, for the time being at least, she couldn’t come. Stung by what seemed like another heartless rejection, Catherine wrote a furious reply saying that he had deceived her, adding ominously that she could not go on like this. It was a threat she had voiced before, but this time after all of the mental agonies she had suffered over the past year, it seems that Catherine had finally snapped. In the notes discovered after her death it appears that she wrote more letters to Dr Craig, but, as before, finding himself pestered beyond belief, the doctor had once again begun to burn the letters unopened. He was thus completely unaware of what she now set out to do.

Nor would he be the only one, as to most of her London friends the story of Catherine’s violent passion for Dr Craig would come as a great surprise, as she had displayed no outward signs of any great interest in men except as friends. All noted that she had been ill over the past year, stricken by a listlessness that her own physician, Dr Schorstein, put down to anaemia, but otherwise she seemed to be the same kindly, mild-mannered woman she had always been. As a result, none of them were aware – or could even have guessed – that Catherine spent early January 1899 preparing for her death, finishing a portrait of her doctor and wrapping up her affairs.

On the morning of 18 January, Catherine paid a visit to her housekeeper, Mrs Stoner, who had injured her wrist several days before and she now made sure that the elderly lady had everything she needed. Catherine told her that she would be going to Staffordshire for a few days, joking that it would give Mrs Stoner a rest from her. Back in her flat, Catherine left a package with a letter in her writing desk laying the blame for what she was about to do squarely on Dr Craig. Then she dressed well, putting on a fashionable lady’s walking-out costume, collected a nightdress she had wrapped up in brown paper (the police speculated that she brought the nightdress with her to be used as her shroud), a travelling rug, an umbrella and her purse containing money and a few notes to give the police enough clues to discover her story. She also pocketed the small, silver five-shot revolver that she kept for personal protection. Catherine then sent for a cab to Euston Station to catch the 4 p.m. train to Stoke. As she left, Catherine waved goodbye to her housekeeper and that was the last time that anyone who knew her saw her alive and conscious; it thus became the job of the police to reconstruct her last hours for the benefit of the inquest.

After a three hour journey north, the train arrived at Stoke Station at 7.14 p.m., and it appears that, after depositing most of her belongings at the left luggage office, Catherine had walked from Stoke into Hanley. Never having visited Dr Craig’s new house in Bagnall Street, she seems to have taken the better part of an hour locating it. Once she had, though, Catherine went into the gated entry where she removed her right glove to give her a better grip and taking out the pistol she placed the barrel against her right temple and pulled the trigger, inflicting the fatal wound.

Because of Catherine’s accusations against him, Dr John Craig found himself being closely questioned at the coroner’s inquest in an effort to determine if he was in any way morally responsible for what had taken place. Indeed, the doctor feared so much for his reputation that he had employed a solicitor to sit in on the inquest to represent his interests in the proceedings. However, the coroner was satisfied with the explanation that Dr Craig had given to the inquest; nor did the police see any reason to pursue the matter any further. The jury thought likewise and quickly returned the verdict that Catherine Devine had committed suicide whilst of unsound mind.

The final act in this tragic tale of missed opportunities and fatal obsession took place the day after the inquest, on Saturday 20 January, when the remains of Catherine Devine were interred at Hanley Municipal Cemetery. To avoid undue attention, the funeral took place a day earlier than advertised and the funeral cortège took a circuitous route to the cemetery for the same reason. Two of Catherine’s London friends, Miss Maud McCarthy and Dr Schorstein, who had appeared at the inquest, were the only mourners and not more than a dozen people stood around the grave in the pouring rain as the last rites were performed. As this was a suicide’s burial, there would be no headstone to mark her lonely plot, while the brass plate on the polished oak coffin bore only the simplest inscription.

Catherine Devine

Died Jan. 18 1899,

Aged 43 years.

Reference: Staffordshire Sentinel 19 - 23 January 1899. Numerous national and international papers January - March 1899.

News and a Narrowboat

On 1 September 1939, Tom Rolt and his wife Angela were travelling along the Trent and Mersey canal aboard their narrowboat, Cressy. Arriving at Trentham Bridge to take on some fuel they were hailed by a boatman at the tiller of a passing barge, who told them that Germany had invaded Poland. That day they passed through the Potteries, and the Harecastle Tunnel on into Cheshire, where two days later they heard the announcement that war had been declared.

Rolt, a future campaigner for preservation of Britain's neglected canal system and one of the founders of the Inland Waterways Association, later wrote a lyrical account of their journey entitled Narrow Boat, which sparked a post-war resurgence of interest in this by-then woefully neglected transport network. A traditionalist at heart, Rolt was dismissive of many of the towns and cities they passed through, but devoted two short chapters to their brief passage through the Potteries. His appreciation of the area and its people stemmed from the fact that he had some years earlier partially served his engineering apprenticeship at Messrs Kerr, Stuart and Co, locomotive engineers in Stoke.

Reference: L.T.C. Rolt, Narrow Boat pp. 115-129; Landscape With Canals, p.3.

Hannah Dale - The Child of Wonder.

A wildly exaggerated publicity image of Hannah Dale c.1889.

Author's collection.

Hannah Dale, 'the Staffordshire Giantess' as she became known, was born in in the village of Mow Cop on the 23rd February 1881. She was the daughter of 31 year old miner Thomas Dale and 28 year old Elizabeth Dale, nee Oakes of Dales Green, Mow Cop, and was their fourth child, Hannah having a brother and two sisters older than herself. All the family were normal average-sized folk, her father weighed 10 stone, and her mother was only 8 stone in weight and their other children were likewise quite ordinary. At the time of her birth Hannah too seemed to be a normal child, so small it was said that she could fit into a quart jug, but at the end of three months she began to develop very rapidly and this growth continued throughout her short life. Within a few years she had outstripped her older siblings in weight, and though she started out enjoying a perfectly normal childhood Hannah was growing taller and broader and soon became something of an attraction in the out-of-the-way village.

It is unclear when Hannah's parent's first started exhibiting their rapidly expanding child to a paying public, but she was certainly something of an attraction for the crowds when at the age of eight flyers such as the one seen here were advertising her for exhibition. Though depicted on the flyer as a veritable giant, Hannah was at this time actually only 4ft 4ins tall, but weight-wise she was prodigious, already weighing more than most grown men, so big that the family home at Oakes Bank, Dales Green had to have the doors widened. By the time she reached ten years of age, Hannah had grown to 4ft 11ins tall, had a 55-inch chest and her thighs measured 3ft around while the vaccination marks on her arms had stretched out to the size of small plates. Looking at her it was easy to forget that she was so young, but many papers were happy to point out that she was still very much a child, at her happiest playing with the other children in and around Mow Cop.

'She is a bright, attractive, and talkative child, and plays as other children do of her own age. For her enormous weight she is very active, but if she accidentally stumbles and falls she cannot get up without assistance. Dolls are her great delight, and in making their apparel she exhibits considerable dexterity and intelligence... She has no special diet, but dines with the other members of the family, consuming as much food as a healthy man, and sleeping on an average twelve to fourteen hours each night. On the railway she travels with a half-ticket, a privilege to which she is entitled, but which often causes her father to supply his name and address to irate ticket collectors, who entertain an honest suspicion about a giantess who takes up as much space as three ordinary persons would occupy.'

South Wales Echo, 16 June 1892, p.2

For several years Hannah was exhibited around the country and by 1892 was becoming something of a celebrity. Early that year she was fulfilling an engagement at Sheffield, prior to going to America, but her fame was cut short when she fell ill with bronchitis in late May or early June of 1892. Her condition quickly worsened and she was taken home to recuperate, arriving there on Tuesday 7 June. However, it was too late and she died from the infection the next day.

At the time of her death, Hannah Dale, was 5ft 3ins tall, weighed 32st 6½lbs, and measured 5ft. 8in around the waist. Her size caused difficulties when it came to her funeral at St Thomas Church, Mow Cop, on 10 June. Her coffin was huge, its size demonstrated prior to her funeral by the undertaker, a Mr Boon, having five young men lying down sideways in it and easily closing the lid over them. Together with the corpse, this finally weighed 6cwt, (48 stone, or nearly 305 Kg) and took up a double plot. It required thirteen people to carry and then lower the little girl's coffin into the grave.

Nearly 2,000 people, many of them friends and neighbours and other locals who had watched Hannah grow up assembled to witness the funeral. The inscription on her gravestone read:

IN LOVING MEMORY OF 

HANNAH

The beloved daughter of

THOMAS & ELIZABETH DALE

Of Dales Green Mow Cop

WHO DIED JUNE 2ND (sic) 1892

AGED 11 years & 3 months.

HERE LIES MY DUST THE CHILD OF WONDER

I BID FAREWELL TO ALL BEHIND

AND NOW I DWELL JUST OVER YONDER

IN HEAVEN WITH GOD SO GOOD AND KIND

ALSO WILLIAM & WALTER their sons

WHO DIED IN INFANCY

Reference: Philip R. Leese, Mow Cop: Living on the Hill; Staffordshire Sentinel, 11 June; South Wales Echo, 16 & 22 June 1892; Daily Gazette for Middlesbrough, 22 June 1892, p.4; Hampshire Advertiser, 16 July 1892, p.7.

Website:http://www.mowcop.info/htm/thumbs/tn060.htm

Captain Smith Tells a Tale

Hanley-born Commander Edward John Smith is best remembered as the captain of the ill-fated White Star Line steamer RMS Titanic, which sank on its maiden transatlantic voyage after colliding with an iceberg in 1912. In many ways the image of Smith presented in the disaster has coloured how we see the man, to some he is the villain of the piece, to others a tragic figure. The few earlier glimpses that exist though, paint Captain Smith in a far different light. For instance in 1911 following the successful maiden voyage of Titanic's elder sister Olympic, Smith comes across as something of a raconteur, playfully spinning a yarn to deflect over- eager reporters.

Captain E. J. Smith
Author's Collection

'Captain Smith of the Olympic was questioned in New York about the coal consumption of the world's biggest liner on her first voyage. But Captain Smith shook his head and said:

"That is a coal story I am not privileged to speak about. I'll tell you another coal story, though, if you'd care to hear it?"

"I'd be delighted," said the reporter. "Well," said Captain Smith, "It's a story about a poor sailor. He was taken down with fever on a brigantine. and, though the mate and captain dosed him well, he died. They buried him at sea. "They buried him with the usual impressive sea rites. He was sewed in a sail round which a flag was draped, and, to make him sink, the sail was weighted with a number of big lumps of coal. "A landlubber of a passenger participated in the services. He watched the well weighted corpse slip into the water. It disappeared at once, and the landlubber shook his head and said: " 'Well, I've seen many a man go below, but this is the first one I've seen taking his own coal down with him.' "

San Francisco Call, 29 August 1911 

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.

Last Stand at Isandlwana

The Battle of Isandhlwana by Charles Edwin Fripp

On 22 January 1879, a British force of over 1,300 men, mostly from the 24th Regiment of Foot, was surprised and destroyed by a massive Zulu army at the Battle of Isandlwana ('Isandula' in some early accounts) in present-day South Africa. It seems that at least three local men, Private William Henry Hickin from Hanley, Private George Glass from Shelton and Sergeant William Shaw from Tunstall  were killed in the battle. 

For more local victims of the battle click here.

Private McNally's Letter

Another local man, Private John McNally of C Company 2/24th Foot was part of a detached force that returned to the deserted battlefield that evening and he later penned a letter to his parents in Hanley describing the scene that met their eyes.

                                                                                                  'Rorke's Drift, February 2nd 1879.'

'Dear Father and Mother,

I received your last letter all right, and was sorry to hear how things were going on at home. I should have written before but we have been so put about that we could not get any writing paper, having been continually on the march. We have had a great drawback since we came in Zululand. On the 22nd of January, while we were out searching for the Zulus, our camp was attacked, and the 1st battalion 24th regiment were all slaughtered, except about six, who escaped. We* lost 134 men, our colours, and our kits. Our tents were destroyed, our ammunition stolen, our rifles broken and taken off. Our hospital waggons were torn to pieces, the sick killed, the medicine bottles all broken, bags of flour and meal - in fact, everything - destroyed. It was a horrid sight for us. When we returned at night in the dark, we had to charge our way to camp with our bayonets. We were falling in holes and over anthills, and in camp we were falling over the dead bodies of our comrades, who had been killed, and awful as it is to relate, it is true - they were cut right down the chest and across their bellies, their bowels coming out. Some had their toes, some their ears, others their arms cut off, and some in fact - dear mother and father, I cannot describe the horrible treatment they had to suffer. The little band boys were tied to a waggon and their flesh stripped off them. We had our company, B. Co., staying here** to guard our stores. The Zulus came upon them and tried to take possession of our stores, but they were repulsed, our side losing about 12 men, the enemy about 900 or a thousand. We numbered about 100; the enemy numbered about 5,000 or 6,000. But although we have suffered this loss, we hope, please God, to have our revenge when we get some more troops out from England. We have been twelve days and have never taken our boots off, always watching day and night for the enemy making an attack, which they generally do at night. Tell McDermott that lives in Weaver-street, to write to his brother in Wolverhampton, and tell him that his son James has been killed. He went sick the morning our camp was attacked. If McDermott likes he can write to the commanding officer of his regiment, and he will give him every satisfaction respecting him.'

Staffordshire Sentinel, 26 March 1879.

*   McNally's own battalion the 2/24th.
** Rorke's Drift, McNally refers here to the famous battle depicted in the film Zulu.

747 Private William Henry Hickin, 1/24th

The memorial window to Private Hickin
in St Johns Church, Hanley.

William Henry Hickin was born in Hanley in early 1854, the eldest child and only son of Henry Hickin and his wife Hannah nee Dobson. William had an elder sister named Prudence and two younger sisters Annie Elizabeth and Mary. His father Henry came originally from Macclesfield in Cheshire, but having moved to the Potteries early in his life on 12 November 1849 he married Hannah Dobson in Wolstanton and worked locally as a locksmith and bell hanger. In 1861 he and his family lived at 13 Windmill Street and 7 year old William and his sisters are listed as 'scholars'. Ten years later the family had moved to 8 High Street, Hanley and 17 year old William worked as a 'Writing Clerk'. It seems, though that William wanted more excitement in his life and on 5 January 1876, he enlisted in the 1st Battalion 24th Regiment of Foot as Private 25B/747. 

Perhaps for William Hickin, the prospect of all-male company offered by the army had been a major factor in him joining up, as in late September 1876, Private W. Hicken (sic) 24th Foot, appeared before a court martial at Dover accused of being drunk and committing an ’Unnatural offence’. The next day one Private Thomas Dickinson also of the 24th Foot was accused of ‘Drunk. Permitting Pte. to commit unnatural offence on him.’* At a time when homosexual acts could get men sentenced to life imprisonment, the court’s sentence of 7 days hard labour for both of them seems extremely lenient, even more unusual is that the sentence was later remitted. Perhaps the court decided that the evidence was weak, or if not that rather than impose a severe sentence, they would give both of them a warning shot across the bow to prevent any future incidents. Or maybe they simply considered that the two soldiers had been so drunk they didn’t know what they were doing. Whatever the case that seems to have been the end of the matter. 

*WO86/25 Judge Advocate General’s Office, Courts Martial Registers pp.307-308.

Over a year and a half of training and home duty passed before Hickin went to join the 1/24th in South Africa on 22 August 1877. He was immediately engaged in the Kaffir War against the Gaikas, Galekas and other tribes during 1877 and 1878. Then in 1879 like the rest of the 24th Foot he was engaged in the opening moves of the Zulu War. Advancing into Zululand with the central column he was one of the soldiers who fought and were killed at Isandlwana on 22 January 1879.

His remains like those of the rest of the regiment were buried on the battlefield some months later and his effects and campaign medal were passed on to his father. Back in Hanley William Henry Hickin was not forgotten. He was commemorated on his grandfather's gravestone in Hanley Cemetery and his family had a memorial window installed in St John's Church, Hanley.

'HANLEY.'

'MEMORIAL WINDOW.- A few days ago a handsome stained window was placed near the south door in the Old Church, in memory of William Henry Hickin, a private in the 24th Regiment, who was killed in the now famous battle of Isandula. The deceased was twenty-five years of age at the time of his death, and when in this district was in the habit of regularly attending the services at St. John's Church; his father Mr. H. Hickin having been a churchwarden for several years past. The expense incurred has been defrayed by subscriptions raised amongst the congregation. The subject dealt with is a very artistic treatment of the legend of St. George and the Dragon. The inscription is as follows:- “To the glory of God, and in memory of William Henry Hickin, of the 24th Regiment, who fell in the Zulu war, at the battle of Isandula, in South Africa."'

                       

Staffordshire Sentinel 11 December 1880


According to local Zulu War researcher Ken Ray, Private Hickin was the only 'other ranks' casualty of the battle of Isandlwana to be commemorated with a stained glass window. He also informs me that Hickin's campaign medal which was for many years held by a collector outside of the area is now in the hands of a local medal collector.

  

408 Private George Glass, 1/24th

'Death on the Battle Field. - The following names appear in the official list of those who fell at lsandula: Private Plant, Shelton, of the 1st battalion of the 24th Regiment; Private W. Glass, 1-24th Regiment, of Cauldon-place, formerly schoolmaster of the Hanley and Shelton Free Night School; and Private Hickin, 1-24th Regiment, son of Mr. Hickin, locksmith, High-street.'

Staffordshire Sentinel and Commercial & General Advertiser - Saturday 08 March 1879, p.5

George Glass was born in Newcastle-under-Lyme, Staffordshire in 1856, the youngest son and penultimate child of William and Martha Glass. His family had strong military ties in that his father William, hailed from Armagh, Northern Ireland and in 1822 had joined the ranks of the 1st Battalion of the 1st Regiment of Foot, serving 22 years with the regiment. William married whilst in the army, his wife, George's mother Martha came originally from Scotland. Together they had nine children, the eldest born in Ireland, but most were born in the Potteries or Newcastle after the couple had moved there in the 1840s when William Glass left the army. Here in both 1851 and 1861 he listed his employment as as a 'Staff Sergeant of Pensioners (Chelsea Pensioners)'.

George's mother Martha died in 1862, which doubtless prompted his father to find a job and by 1871 William Glass was working as a bookkeeper. He had moved the family to Hanley and had remarried, this time to a woman named Susannah from Newport, Salop. At 14 years of age his son George was now old enough to go to work and was employed as a potter. There is no further local documentation about George and though it is not impossible that he worked as a school teacher as noted in brief notification in the Sentinel, it seems more likely that the reporter was actually confusing George with his father. Not only is the dead soldier mistakenly listed as 'W. Glass' in the paper, but in the 1881 census William Glass describes himself as a former school master.

George had joined the army in Liverpool on 28 July 1874 becoming 25B/408 Private George Glass of the 1st battalion 24th Regiment of Foot, aged 18 years 4 months. Like most of the 1/24th he took part in the campaigns against the Gaika and Galeka tribes during 1877 and 1878 and marched into Zululand with the ill-fated centre column in 1879, being killed with most of his battalion at Isandlwana. George's effects and South Africa Medal were later claimed by his father.

Reference: Norman Holme, The Silver Wreath, p.26

2236 Sergeant William Shaw, 2/24th

Staffordshire Sentinel and Commercial & General Advertiser - Saturday 8 March 1879, p.5

William Shaw was born in Tunstall in 1846, the son of potter Aaron Shaw and Sarah nee Hicks. He appears from the 1841 census to have had an elder sister named Elizabeth while other documents reveal a younger sister named Mary Ann, but fuller details of William's family are complicated by the apparent lack of an entry in the 1851 census that may have revealed more siblings. By the time of the 1861 census, William's father was dead and his mother had remarried, this time to collier John Whalley and William and his sister Mary Ann are listed as his step children at his home in Watergate Street, Tunstall. William was 15 years old at the time and his profession was given as an 'apprentice potter'.

We next hear of William Shaw five years later at his wedding after banns to local farmer's daughter Emma Worrall at Christ Church, Tunstall on 18th June 1866. Both were 20 years old. William worked as a potter, but signed his name with a fairly practised hand, revealing at least a basic education, while his bride had to sign her mark.

What prompted William to join the army is unknown, but from the available evidence he appears to have enlisted in the spring of 1870 along with a number of Potteries youths if the newspaper report above is to be believed. His service number is given as 2-24/2336 in some muster rolls but was actually 2-24/2236. He was posted to the 2/24th in Secunderabad, India on 28th December 1870. He was promoted to Corporal on 22nd January 1873 and Sergeant on 8th April 1877. However, two years prior to this last promotion the Judge Advocate General's Office: District Courts Martial Registers (1875-1876) have a Sergeant William Shaw, 24th tried by court-martial 20 October, 1875 at Dover.  He was charged with “Theft” and sentenced to 84 days imprisonment with hard labour, and to be “Reduced.”  A notation shows that the sentence was “Not Confirmed.”

Certainly during the early part of his career, William Shaw was separated from his family and in 1871, his wife Emma and their two eldest children Mary Ann and William Henry Shaw aged 2 and 1 years respectively, were lodging with William's mother and step father at their home in King Street, Tunstall. Only a limited number of wives and children were allowed to accompany battalions when they went abroad and it seems that rank finally told and having raised himself to sergeant, William got permission for his wife and children to join him, first at Aldershot where a third child Sarah was born on 1875 and two years later a last child for the couple, John, was born in Kent in 1877, shortly before the battalion was posted to the Cape. In South Africa as the newspaper report on his death indicates, the family were based in King William's Town, Cape Colony.

Sergeant Shaw saw service against the Galeka tribe in 1878 and at the opening of the campaign against the Zulus in 1879 he was listed as serving in H Company 2/24th, however accounts of the battle have him variously serving in C Company (which apart from a few men left in camp, did not take part in the battle) or G Company. Though entitled to the South Africa Medal and Clasp ‘1877-8-9’, a notation on the medal roll says that there was “no trace of issue” of his medal.

According to the notebook of Corporal John Bassage 2/24th, now held at the Royal Welsh regimental museum, who was part of the force come to bury the dead in June 1879, the remains of Sergeant Shaw and three private soldiers were found together in a heap on the battlefield. The men seem to have formed a small group in a last desperate attempt to try and fend off the Zulus in front of them. All four appeared to have been stabbed to death with assegais. 

Following the death of her husband, Emma Shaw returned to Britain with her children. Due to the family's now straightened circumstances, the three older children Mary Ann, William and Sarah were sent to the respective Royal Victoria Patriotic Asylums for Boys and Girls in Wandsworth, the two institutions having been set up to cater for the orphans of soldiers and sailors. The youngest child John, possibly stayed with his mother and may have been joined by William in 1881 when the Boy's Asylum closed down. There is some evidence that the family later got back together, William and Sarah appearing as witnesses at the marriage of their mother to joiner John Burnett in Manchester in 1896.

Reference: Norman Holme, The Silver Wreath, p.39; Norman Holme, The Noble 24th, p.261;  www.1879zuluwar.com.

Family and background information courtesy of Alan Rouse