John Ellis continues his painstaking research to demonstrate the presence of black sailors at the Battle of Trafalgar, a presence that has been written out of British history.
Naval service records are yielding a remarkable number of references to ‘black’ sailors and you can find John’s two latest discoveries here:
And anything that gives me a reason to include J M W Turner’s painting of ‘The Fighting Temeraire’ (John Ephraim served on the Temeraire) is especially welcome!
Anyone who has visited central London cannot fail to have noticed the iconic part that the Battle of Trafalgar plays in the British national story – an enormous public space is named after it and, at its centre, the victorious Admiral, Nelson, stands atop a 51.7 metre column, master of all he surveys. Any visitor would have to be eagle-eyed (or particularly knowledgeable) to spot the Black presence – but it is there in Trafalgar Square, just as it was there at the battle itself.
It is exceptionally difficult to identify named Black sailors who were involved in the battle itself as there is scant biographical information, other than names and places of birth, for any of the Black Trafalgar veterans, or indeed the Black veterans of any major Royal Navy engagement of the Napoleonic Wars. However John’s meticulous research has identified Black sailors who served in the Royal Navy in the years leading up to Trafalgar and some who served after it. Combined with pictorial evidence of the battle and the presence of an obviously Black sailor on the bronze reliefs on the plinth of Nelson’s column itself, the Black presence at this pivotal moment in British history cannot be gainsaid by anyone willing to open their eyes to the evidence.
John has also pieced together for us the biographies of:
Based on extensive original research, these four stories (and the material in John’s associated article) give a great insight into the wide diversity of men who could be found serving in the Royal Navy in the latter part of the 18th and early 19th centuries.
If that were not enough and by way of an introduction, John has also provided short biographies of three further sailors. He invited us to take our pick but, in all honesty, all the stories deserve to be heard.
The United Service by Andrew Morton
The people in the painting are identified on the frame and “wearing a red hat, is the veteran black sailor John Deman (c.1774-1847), who served with Nelson in the West Indies.” [Deman is also spelt as Dayman in the records].
John Dayman (sic Deman) was born in St Kitts, West Indies, circa 1784. On enlisting in the Royal Navy in 1804 he gave his previous occupation as “Sea” suggesting prior service in the merchant marine. His last ship was HMS Swift. Between 1804 and 1806 the Swift was stationed in the Caribbean, (The West Indies), and it may be that John Dayman enlisted locally. On 5th February 1807 he was admitted to Greenwich Hospital as an in-pensioner having lost his eye-sight. On admittance it was noted that he was not married, was 5/5” tall and “a black.” In 1845 he was one of a number of Royal Navy pensioners depicted meeting Army pensioners in The United Service by Andrew Morton. The biography provided by Morton was: “…wearing a red hat, is the veteran black sailor John Deman (c.1774-1847), who served with Nelson in the West Indies.” (Nelson was indeed in the Caribbean during the period Deman served there – pursuing the French fleet that he would later defeat at Trafalgar – although “served with” was the artist stretching the claim to fame slightly). He died on the 3rd December 1847 at Greenwich Hospital. To round off the story we sent off for a copy of John’s death certificate hoping this would show us the cause of death. It did but unfortunately the entry was indecipherable.
Ralph Hinston was born in New York, USA c.1746. His date of birth and subsequent service in the Royal Navy indicates that he was almost certainly a Black Loyalist during the American War of Independence.
HMS Arethusa and HMS Anson (one of the many ships Ralph Hinston served on) capture the Pomona off Havana, depicted by Thomas Whitcombe
Hinston commenced his service with the Royal Navy when he enlisted as an Ordinary Seaman on HMS Conqueror in October 1778 whilst it was on the North American Station during the American War of Independence. In 1779 he saw action with the Conqueror at the Battles of Grenada and Martinique, and his records subsequently indicated that he was wounded in the head during one of the engagements. Recovering from the wound, Hinston was to serve over twenty-three years as an Able Seaman in the Royal Navy (significant service in brackets):
HMS Suffolk 1780-1781 (the actions of 15th and 18th March 1781, and then convoy escort to Plymouth). HMS Anson 1781-1782 (Battle of the Saintes). HMS Thalia 1782-1783 (Coppering at Portsmouth). HMS Camilla 1783-1787 (Two deployments to Jamaica). HMS Cumberland 1788 (Guard ship at Plymouth). HMS Pylades 1790. HMS Serpent 1790-1792. In 1790, whilst serving on HMS Serpent, he married Jane Blower, a widow, at St Andrew Anglican Church in Plymouth, Devon. HMS Blond 1792. HMS Alligator 1793-1794 (Capture of St Pierre and Miquelon 1793. Captured La Liberte near Jamaica 1794). HMS Europa 1794-1795. HMS Carnatic 1795-1796 (Plymouth). HMS Colossus 1796. HMS Russell 1796-1799 (Portsmouth. The Battle of Camperdown 1797. Ireland). Jane Hinston appears to have died sometime between 1790 and 1798, because Ralph re-married Elizabeth Bradley, a widow, at St Andrew Anglican Church in Plymouth in October 1798. HMS Ramillies 1799-1801 (Operations in Quiberon Bay). During his service on the Ramillies in 1799 an allotment from his wages were paid to his wife Elizabeth in Plymouth. HMS Formidable 1801-1802 (Jamaica).
Ralph Hinston (“a black”) was admitted on a pension to Greenwich Hospital in 1803. He was 5/1” tall (the average height was 5/6”) and had been born in New York. The reason for his admittance was a wound to the head received whilst serving on the Conqueror. His last ship was the Formidable. His wife’s name was Elizabeth. It was noted that he had served in the Royal Navy for a total of 23 years 3 months and 3 days.
Ralph Hinston died in Greenwich Hospital on the 21st of December 1803. He was interred in the Greenwich Royal Naval Hospital Old Burial Ground two days later.
HMS Monarch in the lead, with Elephant (one of the many ships George Kennear served on) close behind forcing the Passage of the Sound, 30 March 1801, prior to the Battle of Copenhagen
George Kennear was born in Bombay, India c.1759. He was admitted to Greenwich Hospital on a pension in August 1813, when it was noted that he was “a black” and approximately 5/5” tall. There is some doubt to his year of birth, but it was between 1749 and 1767. (Age was frequently difficult to determine).
Kennear claimed service on HMS Superb (1778-1783) and HMS Coventry (1775-1784), however, this service was rejected – probably because the dates of service were contradictory. His service was allowed to count towards his pension for: HMS Nancy 1795-1796 (as an Ordinary Seaman). HMS Goliath 1796-1799 (as an Ordinary Seaman at the Second Battle of Cape Vincent). HMS Elephant 1799-1805 (as an Ordinary Seaman in Portsmouth, at the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801 and later in Jamaica and Chatham). HMS Ramillies 1805-1808 (as an Able Seaman in Chatham, at the capture of the French Privateer La Josephine in 1805 and off the Leeward Islands). HMS Defence 1808-1811 (as an Able Seaman). HMS Tartarus 1809-1813 (as an Able Seaman in the Baltic 1810-1811).
When admitted to Greenwich, Kennear was suffering from an injury to his left leg. It was noted that he was un-married, resided in Paddington and had served over 17 years in the Royal Navy. George Kennear died in Greenwich Hospital on the 18th of January 1820.
Note: Three members of the Bridgetower family were named Frederick Joseph. I have labelled them (1), (2) and (3), in order to try and prevent confusion between them.
An article published in the New York Times on 4 August, 2020, highlighted the meticulous in-depth research done by William A. Hart about virtuoso violinist George Augustus Polgreen Bridgetower. In the last few years there has been considerable interest in George Bridgetower resulting in several published articles and even a book, but no-one has dug up significant new information about him in the way Bill Hart has done. You can read his article in the Musical Times, September 2017, and download it free of charge on this link: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/319710845_New_Light_on_George_Bridgtower
I urge you to do so.
George Bridgetower c1800
In his article, Bill Hart tells the story of how a talented and accomplished African (known as John Frederick de Augustus and later as Bridgetower) who was fluent in half a dozen European languages, handsome and charming, brought his 10 year old son George, a virtuoso violinist, to London to seek their fortunes. Like many showmen and performers (Ira Aldridge, Pablo Fanque, etc.) Bridgetower senior invented a royal ancestry for himself and his son.
George had a brilliant career, becoming a protégé of the Prince of Wales and a friend of Beethoven, who composed a sonata especially for him. Accompanied by Beethoven on the piano, Bridgetower’s masterly performance at the premiere of this work created a sensation. Shortly afterwards, as the result of a quarrel between them, Beethoven re-dedicated this most difficult of all violin sonatas to another famous violinist, Rodolphe Kreutzer, who never performed it and said it was unplayable!
My interest in George Bridgetower goes back to 1980 when Ziggi Alexander and I included his portrait and basic details about him in the exhibition Roots in Britain. I have kept an eye out for information about him ever since and had managed to discover quite a number of the facts in Bill’s article, and a few odd snippets besides – for example that Mrs. and Mr. Bridgtower attended a lecture of the Outinian Society on 25 June 1819. This was three years after their marriage and a month before the birth of their second daughter, Felicia. Given that they were having marital problems this is interesting, as the Outinian lectures focused on how to have a happy marriage.
George’s brother Frederick (1), a cellist, joined him in London in 1805. Using family history sources, I discovered, like Bill Hart, that he went to live in Ireland in May 1807. Frederick (1) continued to perform, taught piano and cello and also composed and published a number of works. He married Elizabeth Guy in Newry, County Down in 1808 and fathered three children – George who died aged six months in February 1810, another son Frederick Joseph (2) born in 1812, and a daughter. Sadly, Frederick senior died in August 1813.
One of Frederick’s compositions (National Library of Ireland)
The next record I found of Frederick (2) is in 1833 when he was imprisoned for sixteen months along with seven other men, as a result of a riot following an election in Newry. A protestant house had been attacked by catholics and the protestants responded. Frederick (2) survived his incarceration and on 3 June, 1836 he married Catherine Richardson, the daughter of a printer, at St. Mary’s Church, Newry.
In 1838, when his mother appeared as a witness in a court case following a robbery from St. Mary’s Church, the newspaper reported that Mrs. Elizabeth Bridgetower held the office of Sextoness of the church.
By 1840, when a son, also named Frederick Joseph (3), was born to Frederick (2) and Catherine, the family had moved to Liverpool. A daughter, Jane Guy Bridgetower, was born in 1843 followed by Anna Maria in 1848, another son, John Henry c.1850, then Catherine in 1855.
In 1856 tragedy struck. The newspaper report still upsets me, years after I first read it.
“Catherine Bridgetower, a child of one year and four months old, daughter of Frederick Bridgetower, shoemaker, residing in Albert-court, Saltney-street, was so severely burnt by sitting down on a smoothing iron on the 8th of May last, that she died from the injuries received, on Sunday last.” (Liverpool Mercury, 11 June, 1856.)
More sadness followed. Another son, James, born in 1857, died the following year. A second Catherine was born early in 1859 but, within a few months of her birth, her father died of cancer aged 46.
One by one, Frederick Joseph (2) and Catherine’s daughters eventually married. Jane Guy to Thomas Bainbridge in 1868; Anna (Annie) Maria to William Thomas Wood in 1870; Catherine to James Gurney (Manager of the George Inn, Garston) in 1872. It seems John Henry didn’t marry. He was admitted to the Whittingham Lunatic Asylum on 24 February 1874 and remained there until his death, aged 49, on 26 November 1899.
It is reasonable to suppose that the descendants of the brothers George and Frederick (1) Bridgetower lost touch with each other, given that George’s surviving daughter Felicia lived in Italy with her two sons and wealthy husband, while Frederick’s son, Frederick Joseph (2) and family lived in Liverpool in much less affluent circumstances.
It appears that Felicia either really believed her grandfather’s claims that he was an African prince or that she used the story to elevate her status in Italy. As Bill Hart points out, she had a pamphlet published in 1864 in which she traced her lineage back to King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, and somehow “proved” that she and her sons, Alessandro and Carlo Mazarra, were descendants of Abyssinian royalty.
Meanwhile, in 1863 King Tewodros of Abyssinia (now Ethiopia), in an effort to get a reply to his request to buy arms from Britain, had imprisoned a number of British missionaries. Various diplomatic efforts were made to get them released and, when these failed, the British government decided in July 1867 to mount a huge expedition to rescue them.
As usual, this “British” army was not composed only of white men. It was drawn from the Bengal and Bombay Armies and was therefore made up of both British regiments serving in India and locally-recruited Indian soldiers. The force consisted of 13,000 soldiers, 26,000 camp followers, and over 40,000 animals including horses, mules, camels, and 44 elephants specially trained to haul the heavy guns.
Troops and elephants crossing the Chetta Ravine en route to Magdala. Watercolour by Lieutenant Frank James, Bombay Staff Corps, 1868. (National Army Museum)
Meticulous plans were made beforehand in order to be certain that this force would be able to cross the difficult mountainous terrain and be well-maintained with supplies throughout its mission. It eventually set sail from Bombay on 27 December. Tewodros had thought that it was impossible for the army to reach him in his mountain fortress at Magdala, but he was wrong. On 10 April 1868, the British army attacked and triumphed. After the battle, Tewodros committed suicide before the British could capture him. Huge numbers of Ethiopian treasures were looted and brought back to Britain, along with Tewodros’s seven-year-old son, Prince Alemayehu – but that’s another story.
Prior to this, in September 1867, Lord Stanley, the British Foreign Secretary had received an extraordinary letter from Felicia’s elder son, Alessandro Mazzara, putting forward his claim to the throne of Abyssinia. His claim was backed by the Italian authorities because they wanted to have influence in Abyssinia, as did the Roman Catholic Church. The receipt of this letter was widely reported in the British press.
Can you imagine the effect this must have had on Frederick Joseph (3) in Liverpool? If Alessandro had a valid claim to the throne, he knew he had a better one through male primogeniture, as he was descended through the male line via Frederick Joseph (2), and Alessandro only through the female line via Felicia. In February 1868, he wrote a letter to the Liverpool Mercury outlining his superior claim to the throne. The paper printed what it termed the “extraordinary epistle” without further comment, but in a reply to a correspondent later in the year opined, “If Frederick Joseph Bridgetower is, as our correspondent asserts, entitled to the throne of Abyssinia, he had better go and take it. We are sure that the British Government will never be so foolish as to support his pretensions.”
Frederick (3) didn’t give up. If a notice in the Cheshire Observer of 26 September 1868 is to be believed, he went to Ethiopia to pursue his claim. A notice in the paper reported:
“DEATHS: In Abyssinia, aged 28 years, Frederick Joseph Bridgetower, nephew of Sir George Bridgetower, formerly of Carlton House, London.”
However, that wasn’t the end of him! On 4 May 1870, in Southampton Magistrates’ Court, proceedings were taken against one Frederick Joseph Bridgetower, a printer of Simnel Street. He had been wandering around town, wearing a gilt crown and shouting in the street that he was the King of Abyssinia. He was imprisoned for one week with hard labour for being drunk and disorderly. Was this the real Frederick Joseph (3), or an imposter pretending to be him?
He must have been terribly disappointed, having had his hopes raised so unexpectedly and then dashed to pieces. Seven years later, aged 37, Frederick Joseph Bridgetower (3), occupation Musician, emigrated to the United States. He arrived in New York on 15 August, 1877, aboard the very aptly named SS Ethiopia.
Annie Maria Bridgetower and William Thomas Wood celebrated their Silver Wedding in May, 1895. Their son, Joseph Bridgetower Wood emigrated to Canada where he married Anna Louisa Wachholz in British Columbia in 1913. He returned to Britain to fight in the First World War and survived, dying in Vancouver in 1953.
At some point, many years ago, a family tree was available online which included a tiny photo of “Great Grandma Wood” [Annie Maria Bridgetower (born 1848)]. The photo has now disappeared, but I managed to copy it when I saw it.
As Bill Hart says, there must be a large number of Frederick Joseph (1)’s descendants still living today, as all his granddaughters had children. Whether George has any descendants through his daughter Felicia and her two sons is another question. If he does, I imagine they are still in Italy.
I often wondered if present-day Bridgetower descendants were aware of their illustrious and colourful forbears, and it is evident from recent tweets by Hyder Gareth Jawád that at least some of them are. No doubt further information about this fascinating family will be forthcoming in the future.
Postscript to this story:
Hyder Gareth Jawad is indeed aware of Bridgetower family history. He has posted a recently colourised photo of his great-great-great grandmother and four of her daughters on his Twitter account. Hyder has kindly given Historycal Roots permission to include the full photograph in our article.
Further reading
The New York Times article about George Bridgetower, which includes another image of him:
From a friend I received an account of the way she celebrated Yorkshire Day on Saturday by sharing a socially distanced Yorkshire Day tea with a neighbour in their gardens. The menu consisted of “Parkin, tea loaf, Wensleydale [cheese] and, of course, Yorkshire Tea!” This set me thinking about the origins of the Day, of the food, of Yorkshire’s wealth and the history of Yorkshire’s “Broad Acres,” which is a lot broader than many people realise.
The origins of Yorkshire Day
According to Wikipedia, “Yorkshire Day is celebrated on 1 August to promote the historic English county of Yorkshire. It was celebrated in 1975, by the Yorkshire Ridings Society, initially in Beverley, as ‘a protest movement against the local government re-organisation of 1974’. The date alludes to the Battle of Minden [in which the 51st (2nd Yorkshire East Riding) Regiment of Foot were involved], and also the anniversary of the emancipation of slaves in the British Empire in 1834, for which a Yorkshire MP, William Wilberforce, had campaigned.”
Wilberforce was not the only abolitionist who had connections in Yorkshire. Although he was born in Wisbech, Cambridgeshire, Thomas Clarkson, arguably the greatest of all white British abolitionists, came from a family with its roots in Thirsk. Olaudah Equiano, then known as Gustavus Vassa, the chief black British abolitionist, had many supporters in Yorkshire, including in the cities of Huddersfield, Leeds, York and Hull.
Letter of thanks from Gustavus Vassa (Olaudah Equiano) to Yorkshire supporters, Leeds Intelligencer, April 19, 1791
Other heroes in the struggle against slavery and racism included Wilson Armistead, a Quaker businessman from Leeds who, in 1848, published what is probably the first British Black History book, A Tribute for the Negro. His illustrated book included biographical notes, some short and some longer, about the lives of almost 200 people of African descent. In the book he states, “With regard to the intellectual capabilities of the African race, it may be observed, that Africa was once the nursery of science and literature, and it was from thence that they were disseminated among the Greeks and Romans….Solon, Plato, Pythagoras, and others of the master spirits of ancient Greece, performed pilgrimages into Africa in search of knowledge; there they sat at the feet of ebon philosophers to drink in wisdom!” A Tribute for the Negro is available to read on line at https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/A_Tribute_for_the_Negro.html?id=t8ENAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false
Portrait of Olaudah Equiano from ‘A Tribute for the Negro’
In more recent times other Yorkshire men and women have joined these heroes in welcoming newcomers with darker skins to the county. [I will shortly be writing an article which includes two from the years just after World War 2 – John Murray-Robinson and Charles Henry Charlesworth.]
Parkin
Those of you who live in the south may not know about the much-loved Yorkshire parkin – a moist, sticky, spicy cake mostly eaten in the autumn and an integral part of Bonfire Night celebrations. Besides butter and eggs, its ingredients include oatmeal as well as self-raising flour, but the essentials which give it its taste and dark appearance are ground ginger, black treacle and soft brown sugar. Some recipes also include golden syrup, nutmeg and mixed spice, or use molasses instead of the black treacle.
As you will see, many of the ingredients could not be grown in Britain. Before sugar was made from sugar beet in the 1920s, Britain imported cane sugar (and its derivatives – molasses and treacle) from various territories in the former British Empire, particularly from around the Caribbean. Ginger was originally grown in South East Asia. In the 16th century plants were successfully transferred to Jamaica from where the ginger was exported to Britain in addition to supplies from India. Enslaved labour produced the sugar and the ginger from which parkin’s recipe developed over the years.
Yorkshire Tea
Traditionally, the tea most admired in Yorkshire has always been a good strong, dark brew (possibly called builder’s tea in other parts of the country). Yorkshire Tea has now become a famous brand name marketed by Taylors of Harrogate. https://www.yorkshiretea.co.uk/about-us
I gave a box to a 101-year-old Asian Muslim relative when he visited London last November. He enjoyed it so much that he now regularly buys Yorkshire Tea, at great expense, in his home-town in Canada. Thinking of him reminds me that 1st August this year was also celebrated as part of Eid al-Adha. Eid Mubarak, Amir! I hope you enjoyed some cups of Yorkshire Tea as part of your celebrations.
Of course, the name of the tea is interesting. As David Olusoga has asked, “Where in Yorkshire do they grow tea?” Listen to him raise the question in discussion with Akala on this podcast: https://soundcloud.com/southbankcentre_book_podcast/akala-and-david-olusoga-striking-the-empire. Tea is now imported from various parts of the old British Empire and it has a chequered history. Perhaps you would like to reflect on its history next time you enjoy a reviving cup.
The first tea to reach Britain came from China and it quickly caught on with the very rich: it was so expensive that it was kept in locked tea caddies. Once it became indispensible to a much greater number of people, Britain had to find a way to pay for it. This was a problem, as China had no desire to buy any British exports and only accepted silver bullion as payment. Two solutions to the problem were found.
The first was to grow massive amounts of opium in India which was then exported as a cash crop to China. In earlier times, opium was used as a very useful medicine, but the new practice of smoking opium for recreational purposes increased demand tremendously and millions of Chinese people became addicted as a result. Chinese emperors issued laws in 1729, 1799, 1814, and 1831 which made opium illegal but still British (and, later, American) traders found ways of getting it into the country via Chinese smugglers. Britain fought two Opium Wars in 1839-1842 and in 1856-1860 to force the Chinese to accept the narcotic. When we consider the problems we now have with drugs in this country, it brings to mind the saying, “Chickens coming home to roost”! As an outcome of the First Opium War, China was forced to cede Hong Kong to Britain, setting in motion more problems for the 21st century.
An East India Company opium warehouse, c.1850
The second solution was to steal both tea plants and details of the methods needed to grow them successfully, which the Chinese had kept as a closely-guarded secret. This knowledge was then used in the establishment of tea gardens in India, where workers toiled under conditions very similar to those endured by the enslaved. At a later date, tea growing was established in Africa, and now our tea comes from both areas of the former British Empire.
Recently, when a local far-right activist tried to make something out of Yorkshire Tea’s seeming lack of response to the Black Lives Matter movement by tweeting “I’m dead chuffed that Yorkshire Tea has not supported BLM,” Taylors issued a short, sharp response: “Please don’t buy our tea again. We’re taking some time to educate ourselves and plan proper action before we post. We stand against racism.”
How could Wensleydale and its cheese possibly have a “hidden history” which links it with slavery and empire? Few would believe that beautiful Wensleydale in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales National Park could have any connection with transatlantic enslavement or exploitation in India. However, when research was done for the Hidden History of the Dales exhibition, which was on display at the Dales Countryside Museum in Hawes in 2007 and 2009, many such connections were discovered.
Rigg House, Wensleydale – retirement home of George Metcalfe, a former plantation owner in Dominica and Demerara (Dales Countryside Museum)George Metcalfe’s grave in Hawes churchyard (Dales Countryside Museum)
Men left the Yorkshire Dales to settle in the West Indies and India. They worked as sailors and merchants in the slave trade, and as overseers, millwrights and surveyors on plantations. In some cases they owned plantations and enslaved workers. Those Yorkshire people who survived perilous sea journeys, at a time when shipwrecks were frequent, and tropical diseases, which killed many, remitted money to their families back home. Some retired to homes in the Dales. Returnees contributed to the built environment and invested ill-gotten gains in land and in industrial development and growth. They also brought people of African descent to live in the area in the 18th and early 19th centuries.
The baptism record of John Yorke, ‘A Negro Servant,’ at Marske in Swaledale, in 1776 (North Yorkshire County Record Office)Two of John Yorke’s descendants talking with historian/actor, Joe Williams [1] (as Equiano) at the ‘Hidden History of the Dales’ Exhibition, in 2007 (Dales Countryside Museum)
Dales people who remained in Britain sold their wares to the plantations in America and the West Indies – for example knitted stockings, “bump caps for the negroes,” and agricultural products such as cheese.
Reflecting on all of this history, I trust that in future we will find ways to commemorate Yorkshire Day in a manner that honours the contributions made by the ancestors of all Yorkshire citizens – including those who grew the tea and the ginger or slaved in the cane fields and boiling houses to produce the sugar and treacle – and celebrates those people who fought for freedom, justice and equality and who extended a genuine Yorkshire welcome to settlers from all parts of the world.
It is a privilege and a pleasure for the Historycal Roots team to work with Audrey Dewjee, Audrey has forgotten more about black British history than we will ever know.
News that a bust of Mary Seacole by the sculptor Count Gleichen is to be auctioned on 30th July 2020, reminded Audrey of the story of how the bust came to be made. You can read Audrey’s article on the subject below. It is a story known to very few people and Audrey is the perfect person to tell it as, back in 1984, she co-edited (with Ziggi Alexander) the first modern re-issue of Mary Seacole’s autobiography[1].
As the bust has been in the hands of a private collector for many years, we fervently hope that the auction leads to it being purchased by an institution which will put it on public display. At a time when we are debating the importance of celebrating the contribution of black men and women to British history it would be a travesty if this important artefact were to fall into the hands of a private collector to be squirrelled away from public view or, worse, shipped overseas. There are all too few public images of Mary Seacole available for people to view and it is important that we maximise the visibility of those we have.
In the article that follows Audrey tells the story of the remarkable friendship between Mary Seacole and the man who sculpted the image.
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The sculptor, Count Gleichen, was a nephew of Queen Victoria. He was born Prince Victor of Hohenlohe-Langenburg, but he changed his name to the lesser title after his morganatic marriage in early 1861 to Laura Williamina Seymour, daughter of a British Admiral, as she was only permitted the title of Countess, not Princess.
As an officer of the Royal Navy, Prince Victor served in the Crimean War (1853-1856) and was one of the customers of Mary Seacole’s renowned British Hotel which acted as a sort of gentleman’s club to officers in the British forces. Here they could not only purchase alcoholic drinks and delicious meals but also essentials such as boots and shoes, socks and underwear, saddles, caps and handkerchiefs – in fact “everything from an anchor to a needle” – which the Commissariat (the government department responsible for the supply of food and equipment) was, for many months, unable to provide.
Mary’s friendship with the young prince, who was then in his early twenties, came in useful to him. In her autobiography she describes a couple of instances where her aid was of use:
“Of course the summer [of 1855] introduced its own plagues, and among the worst of these were the flies. I shall never forget those Crimean flies….There was no exterminating them – no thinning them – no escaping from them by night or by day….The officers in the front suffered terribly from them. One of my kindest customers, a lieutenant serving in the Royal Naval Brigade, who was a close relative of the Queen, whose uniform he wore, came to me in great perplexity. He evidently considered the fly nuisance the most trying portion of the campaign, and of far more consequence than the Russian shot and shell. ‘Mami’, he said (he had been in the West Indies, and so called me by the familiar term used by the Creole children), ‘Mami, these flies respect nothing. Not content with eating my prog [food] they set to at night and make a supper of me,’ and his face showed traces of their attacks. ‘Confound them, they’ll kill me, Mami; they’re everywhere, even in the trenches, and you’d suppose they wouldn’t go there from choice. What can you do for me, Mami?’
“Not much; but I rode down to Mr. B—–’s store, at Kadikoi, where I was lucky in being able to procure a piece of muslin, which I pinned up (time was too precious to allow me to use needle and thread) into a mosquito net, with which the prince was delighted. He fell ill later in the summer, when I went up to his quarters and did all I could for him.”
Here Mary Seacole was being rather modest: Prince Victor credited her with saving his life when he was stricken down with cholera.
At the British Hotel, Mary also provided a canteen for other ranks, where she carried out first aid for a variety of conditions including injuries, battle wounds and frostbite. She dispensed her medicines for the treatment of diseases such as dysentery, diarrhoea and cholera which were endemic in the camp and which killed six times more men than did wounds sustained in battle. For officers, Mary provided more individual care – she visited their tents and huts close to the battlefront where she administered her medicines as well as nutritious food to her patients.
Her successful treatment of Prince Victor resulted in even closer friendship which continued after the war, when they were both living in London. By 1871, and now known as Count Gleichen, Prince Victor had retired from the Royal Navy and was practising as a talented sculptor. His bust of Mary Seacole, created that year at the studio in his apartments at St. James’s Palace, was exhibited at the Summer Exhibition of the Royal Academy in 1872.
Of special interest is the fact that Gleichen portrayed Mary wearing her Crimean medals. There has been much controversy over claims by Seacole detractors that she had no right to wear these medals because no evidence has been found of her being officially awarded them. The evidence may not have been found, but I do not believe that an officer of the Royal Navy of Gleichen’s rank would have featured the medals so prominently in his sculpture if there was any doubt about her right to wear them.
Incidentally Mary wore her medals without challenge when she attended a high profile review of the army at Aldershot in September 1866. Sheldrake’s Aldershot and Sandhurst Military Gazette reported the presence of the “Crimean celebrity…decorated with her three war medals – the Crimean medal with three clasps, the Legion of Honour and the Turkish medal, that had been presented to her by the different governments for the valuable services rendered by this extraordinary lady to the allied army during this memorable campaign.” The report continued by describing her acknowledgement on the day by the army top brass: “As the troops were formed up to march past, she was recognised by the generals and Sir James [Lieut.-Gen. The Hon. Sir James Yorke Scarlett, K.C.B] rode up to her, and shook her warmly by the hand, remarking that the last time he saw her she was ‘totting’ out brandy to the soldiers in the Crimea…. Gen. Hodge also gave her a warm reception, and particularly requested her to visit the female hospital before she left Aldershot. Sir Wm. Codrington also rode to her and shook her by the hand, and, as well as the other generals, inquired where she had been since the Crimean War…. On her way homewards, Capt. Wolfe also accosted her…and expressed his pleasure at seeing her in Aldershot.”
In fact, Mary and Count Gleichen remained friends for the rest of their lives. The Fortnightly Review, of January, 1892, in an article entitled “The Late Prince Victor of Hohenlohe” [p.313] recorded that, “During the summer of that year [1855], Prince Victor for the second time nearly died of cholera. He was however, brought round by the devoted nursing of the well-known Mother Seacole, the West Indian black woman, who had become much attached to him. Up to the time of her death, not many years ago, the warm hearted old lady used to come and see him, and bring little presents for his children.”
In her will, Mary bequeathed to Count Gleichen “the diamond ring given to my late husband by his Godfather, Viscount Nelson”. She also left her best set of pearl ornaments to his eldest daughter, the Countess Feodora Gleichen, and nineteen guineas each to his other three children.
I trust the bust which illustrates their friendship will remain in this country, to be seen here by all who want to view it.
[1] The illustrations in this article come from Wonderful Adventures of Mrs. Seacole in Many Lands, edited by Ziggi Alexander and Audrey Dewjee, Falling Wall Press, 1984.
As the sun came up on Monday 19th June 1815 George Rose counted his blessings. He had been in the thick of the action during what we know as the Battle of Waterloo. He had been badly wounded (so badly that it was not until June 1816 that he was discharged from the military hospital in Colchester) but, unlike many of his comrades, he had survived. George wasn’t to know it but an eventful 58 years lay ahead of him. He died in his native Jamaica in 1873.
On 10th June we published a post about Trumpet-Major James Goodwin, another black soldier who survived Waterloo. We made a passing reference to George Rose and, John Ellis, author of the article about Goodwin, told us that over a decade ago he had done a lot of original research into the career of George. Today we reproduce John’s original article about George Rose with a short postscript by John that casts further light on George’s life.
‘The nearest run thing you ever saw in your life’, that’s how Arthur Wellesley, the 1st Duke of Wellington, described the Battle of Waterloo, a battle that saw the final defeat of Napoleon and shaped the course of European history.
In an event of less historical significance, in 2014 two thirds of the Historycal Roots team visited Perth (in Scotland, not Australia!) with the intention of visiting Scone Palace for an exhibition about Dido Elizabeth Belle. After a fascinating afternoon at Scone, the following day we found ourselves with time on our hands in Perth and decided on the spur of the moment to visit the Museum of the Black Watch Regiment. At the door we were greeted in friendly fashion and asked if we had any particular reason for visiting. We said that we were especially interested in any evidence of black soldiers having served in the Regiment during World War One (a project we were working on at the time). The gentleman thought for a moment and said he regretted he couldn’t think of anything but perhaps we would like to meet George?
‘George’ turned out to be George Rose who served at the Battle of Waterloo.
Up to that point I don’t think it had ever occurred to us that there might have been black soldiers at Waterloo but indeed there were and they were in the thick of the action too. George Rose was one, but there were others.
The battle was, as already noted, a very close run thing and there were heavy losses on both sides. The Duke also commented ‘believe me, nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won: the bravery of my troops hitherto saved me from the greater evil.’
In 2018 we attended a What’s Happening in Black British History event in Huddersfield where we heard a fascinating talk by John Ellis about the black presence in the British Army in the 18th and 19th centuries. John’s talk reminded us of our ‘meeting’ with George Rose and added a huge amount of information about other men we had been unaware of.
These threads came together for us recently when John contacted and offered to write a piece for Historycal Roots. We were thrilled! As we approach the 205th anniversary of the battle on 18th June there could be no better time to introduce you to the story of James Goodwin, a black soldier at Waterloo. You can find John’s article here: http://historycalroots.com/trumpet-major-james-goodwin-a-black-hero-of-the-battle-of-waterloo
