Book Review: Death in Ten Minutes by Fern Riddell

Death in Ten Minutes Front Cover

Death in Ten Minutes by Fern Riddell

Fern Riddell. Death in Ten Minutes. London: Hodder, 2018. RRP £9.99 paperback.

Thanks to the centenary of the Representation of the People Act in 2018, there has been a significant amount of books, documentaries, and museum exhibits about the campaign for women’s suffrage over the last two years (see all of my blog posts on the topic here). It is no easy task, therefore, to come up with something that stands out from the crowd. I have been looking forward to reading Death in Ten Minutes since its publication last year, but I have been waiting for the paperback to come out. I am pleased to say that it was worth the wait.

Death in Ten Minutes is a biography of Kitty Marion, a German-born actress and singer who came to live with her aunt in Britain as a young girl to escape an abusive father. During her time in the theatres and music halls she was subjected to sexual assault and mistreatment by men who held power over her career. She became increasingly disillusioned with the way women were treated by society, and the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU) proved to be an ideal outlet for her frustrations. She became one of the group’s most militant suffragettes, responsible for multiple arson and bomb attacks around the country. During the First World War Kitty was forced to leave Britain because she was German, despite living in the UK for most of her life. She took refuge in the US, where she became heavily involved in the birth control advocacy movement. She continued to fight for what she believed in until her death in 1944. In her later years, she wrote an unpublished autobiography, which Fern Riddell draws heavily on in Death in Ten Minutes. The result is an account of Kitty’s life that is vivid, engaging, and feels like it is told from her perspective.

There are lots of things I like about Death in Ten Minutes. One of the main characteristics of the book that surprised me is that Riddell uses Kitty’s story to make a broader argument about the way that women’s history in general, and the suffrage movement in particular, has been sanitised in popular memory and dominant historical narratives in order to (re)produce a particular patriarchal understanding of women. Riddell also critiques the way that the suffragettes are idolised in popular memory, glossing over violent and life-threatening acts of terrorism to present a picture of perfect women. But no one is perfect, and it is just as important to acknowledge that about our admired historical figures as it is about ourselves. In most historical biographies aimed at a popular audience, I do not expect the kind of critical analysis found in Death in Ten Minutes.

The second major strength of Death in Ten Minutes for me is that it doesn’t end in 1918. Many of the women involved in the suffrage campaign went on to use their skills for other causes and social movements, and Kitty was no exception. She worked for the birth control advocacy movement for just as long, if not longer, than she campaigned for the WSPU. Social movements and political campaigns in the twentieth century were empowering experiences for many women, allowing them to develop skills they never anticipated, and the confidence to use those skills (the 1984-5 miner’s strike is another good example). Death in Ten Minutes contextualises the suffrage campaign within Kitty’s life, and shows that there was much more to her than being a suffragette.

Death in Ten Minutes is a well-written and thoroughly researched book that gives Kitty Marion the recognition she deserves as a fierce and passionate, but flawed, campaigner for women’s rights. I highly recommend it.

The Commemoration and Celebration of Dissent in Tolpuddle

The small village of Tolpuddle in Dorset would be just like every other picturesque rural village in Britain if it wasn’t for a clandestine meeting of six men under a sycamore tree more than 150 years ago. George Loveless, James Loveless, James Standfield, Thomas Standfield, James Brine, and James Hammett would become known as the Tolpuddle Martyrs, and their story is seen by many as the defining moment in the development of British trade unions. Tolpuddle receives thousands of visitors each year, particularly during the annual Tolpuddle Festival every summer. There are several memorials in the village, including a museum, a statue, one of the martyr’s gravestones, and a plaque, many of which date back to the centenary of the martyrs’ conviction. The Tolpuddle App (which you can download onto your phone or tablet) guides visitors through the points of interest in the village and includes videos that explain the martyrs’ story. In May, I dragged my family to visit the museum and explore the village using the app.

Tolpuddle Martyrs Trail Map

The map and interface of the Tolpuddle App, which visitors can use for a self-guided tour of the village. Each stop has a series of videos associated with it about the story of the martyrs and what life was like for agricultural labourers in the early 1800s (Source: Tolpuddle App).

The six men were agricultural labourers, and they met under a sycamore tree in the village to discuss their poor working conditions, low wages, and how to prevent things getting worse. They decided to form a Friendly Society, hoping that working together would give them more bargaining strength. The local authorities found out about the new trade union, and with support from central government, decided to put a stop to it. Trade unions weren’t illegal, but the political and social elites were afraid of the impact they could have, so an obscure law against taking secret oaths was used to charge the six men. The men were found guilty and sentenced to seven years transportation. The severity of the sentence caused a public outcry and the martyrs were eventually pardoned, but not before they had spent several years in Australia. They returned home as heroes. The authorities had hoped that the men’s treatment would scare people and stop them joining trade unions, but the martyrs’ story had the opposite effect. Many argue that it kick started the fledgling trade union movement in Britain, which is why Tolpuddle is so important to modern-day trade unions.

 

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The sycamore tree that the martyrs met under is still going strong in the centre of the village. In 2002 it was declared one of 50 Great British Trees by the Tree Council to celebrate the Queen’s Golden Jubilee. The museum shop sells seedlings from the tree in you want to grow your own piece of trade union history (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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In 1934, the National Trust built this shelter next to the sycamore tree in the village. The text on the back says “In memory of the Dorset labourers who made a courageous stand for liberty in 1934” (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

The centenary of the Tolpuddle Martyr’s conviction was marked with huge celebrations in the village. A series of events were organised, and commemorative souvenirs were produced to mark the occasion. A number of physical memorials were also built in Tolpuddle. The most substantial is the Tolpuddle Martyr’s Memorial Cottages, a row of 6 cottages that were built by the Trades Union Congress (TUC) to house retired agricultural trade unionists. The cottages included a  library, which grew over time to become the Tolpuddle Martyr’s Museum. The museum is small, but it tells the Martyr’s story well, and contains several interesting items, including a tile from the local church that James Hammett scratched his name into, and commemorative items from various anniversaries.

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The Tolpuddle Martyr’s Museum is located in six cottages that were built by the Trades Union Congress in 1934 for retired agricultural trade unionists (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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The headstone of James Hammett, the only martyr who stayed in Tolpuddle until his death. He is buried in the graveyard of St. John’s Church in the village. The stone was installed as part of the centenary celebrations in 1934 (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

Outside the museum is a statue by artist Thomson Dagnall. It was installed in 2002, with funding from the Public and Commercial Services Union (PCS). It depicts George Loveless, who is considered the leader of the martyrs. Visitors are invited to sit beside George on the bench and contemplate what it must have been like for the martyrs to be separated from their families and transported around the world to a life in forced labour.

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This sculpture by Thomson Dagnall (2002) sits outside the Tolpuddle Martyr’s Memorial Cottages (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

As you walk through the village, past St. Johns churchyard where James Hammett is buried and the sycamore tree, you will come to the cottage where James Standfield lived. It was here that the men held their union meetings, with up to 40 men crammed into an upstairs room. The cottage is marked with a plaque, installed by the TUC.

James Standfield Cottage and Plaque

James Standfield’s cottage where the agricultural union met and (inset) the text of the plaque installed on the cottage by the TUC (Photos: Hannah Awcock).

Most of the martyrs were Methodists, and quite heavily involved in the Methodist community in the village; George Loveless was a lay preacher. There are two buildings in Tolpuddle that have been used as Methodist Chapels. The first was built in 1818, but fell into disuse sometime after 1843. Since then it has been used for agriculture and storage, but in 2015 the Tolpuddle Old Chapel Trust was set up to purchase the building and renovate it. The Trust are raising funds to open the building up for “activities, exhibitions and community use”, so all being well there may soon be another memorial in the village to the Tolpuddle Martyrs.

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The Old Chapel building in Topuddle, where at least 4 of the 6 martyrs worshiped. Fundraising is currently underway to reopen the building (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

If you continue walking along the main road through the village, you will eventually come to the current Methodist Chapel, which was built in 1862-3. Outside is an arch dedicated to the martyrs, built in 1912. On one side is engraved the following text: “Erected in honour of the faithful and brave men of this village who in 1834 so nobly suffered transportation in the cause of liberty, justice, and righteousness, and as a stimulus to our own and future generations” followed by the names of the 6 men. On the other side is engraved a quote from a speech George Loveless made during the martyrs’ trial: “We have injured no man’s reputation, character, person or property, we were uniting together to preserve ourselves, our wives and our children from utter degradation and starvation.”

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Tolpuddle’s current Methodist Church and the memorial arch outside. Visitors are welcome to look around inside when the church is open (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

There are numerous memorials in Tolpuddle that commemorate the martyrs and their story. They represent a wide variety of different types of memorial, ranging from the more traditional (plaques, a museum, and a sculpture) to the less conventional (cottages, a tree, and a gravestone). The also range in age: the sycamore tree is hundreds of years old, the memorials constructed during the centenary celebrations are 85 years old, and the sculpture is less than 20 years old. If the Old Chapel is successfully renovated, then that age range will be stretched even further. Looked at together, the memorials represent a fascinating landscape of commemoration that has been added to by successive generations. The story of the Tolpuddle Martyrs has remained important to several generations of activists and trade unionists, and the plans for the Old Chapel and the annual Tolpuddle festival demonstrate that that significance has not diminished. I hope that the story will be remembered and celebrated for many more generations to come.

Turbulent Londoners: Catharine Macaulay, 1731-1791

Turbulent Londoners is a series of posts about radical individuals in London’s history who contributed to the city’s contentious past, with a particular focus of women, whose contribution to history is often overlooked. My definition of ‘Londoner’ is quite loose, anyone who has played a role in protest in the city can be included. Any suggestions for future Turbulent Londoners posts are very welcome. This week it is the turn of Catharine Macaulay, who was a radical and a republican, as well as the first female English historian.


Catherine Macaulay

Catharine Macaulay in around 1775, by Robert Edge Pine (Source: National Portrait Gallery).

A lot of the women I feature on Turbulent London probably wouldn’t describe themselves as activists or campaigners; many of them wouldn’t even describe themselves as feminists (the term didn’t exist before the late 1880s). These women advanced women’s rights by simply striving for, and achieving, the things they wanted, even if they were told they couldn’t because they were female. Catharine Macaulay, the first female English historian, falls into this category. Her determination to conduct and publish historical research in a time where there were no other female historians in the world made her remarkable. Her successful career as a historian was her primary goal, and the advancement of women’s rights was just a side effect.

Born Catharine Sawbridge on 23rd of March 1731 to parents who were wealthy landowners, Catharine had a comfortable childhood. She was educated at home by a governess in Kent. We don’t know much about the quality of her education, but by her twenties she was a voracious reader and had a deep love of history. On 20th June 1760, Catharine married a Scottish physician, Dr. George Macaulay. The couple moved to St. James’ place in London, where they had one daughter, Catharine Sophia.

It was during this first marriage that Catharine began to publish The History of England from James I to the Revolution. It was a sprawling, detailed historical account of the seventeenth-century that would eventually run to 8 volumes, the last of which was published in 1783. Not only was it remarkable for a woman to undertake such a task (it was deemed inappropriate for a woman to be a historian), it was very unusual for her husband to support her endeavours. But George did support Catharine, and after the publication of the first volume she became an overnight celebrity.

Catharine believed that English society during the Anglo-Saxon period was characterised by freedom and equality, but that this ideal society was lost after the Norman conquest. She argued that all of English history since 1066 had been about the attempt to win back the rights crushed by the “Norman yoke.” This stance was very popular with Whigs, who saw her work as an alternative to Hume’s ‘Tory’ History of England. However, when Volume 4 was published in 1768, Catharine alienated her Whig supporters by justifying the execution of Charles I. She was a republican, and believed that if Kings become tyrants, as Charles did, then they forfeit the right to rule. She was no fan of Oliver Cromwell’s either though; she blamed him for the downfall of the English republic.

Catharine was also critical of the 1688 Glorious Revolution. She acknowledged that it had limited the power of the monarchy, but argued that it was a missed opportunity to create a second English republic. She was also anti-Catholic, believing that Catholicism was incompatible with a “free constitution.” Catharine was very concerned with the morals of the historical figures she wrote about; she argued that self-interest was the worst fault that a King or politician could possess, and believed that only a virtuous people could create a successful republic.

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The title page of a 1769 reprint of Volume 1 of History of England (Source: Journal of the American Revolution).

After George’s death in 1766, Catharine’s London home became a gathering place for reformers, American sympathisers and visiting Americans, an important node in a transatlantic network of campaigners, radicals, and republicans. In 1774, Catharine moved to Bath, where she was treated by a physician, Dr. James Graham. There were rumours of a relationship, but in November 1778 Catharine married Dr. Graham’s brother, William. The significant age gap (she was 47, he 21) was controversial, and many of Catherine’s friends and supporters abandoned her. However, it seems that her second marriage was as happy as her first.

In July 1784, Catharine became the first English radical to visit a newly independent United States. Her books had been influential on American radical thought, and she was much admired there. Catharine and William stayed with George Washington and his family, and he allowed her to see his personal papers with the goal of writing a history of the War of Independence, although it was eventually written by another of Catharine’s American supporters, Mercy Otis Warren.

After the last volume of History was published in 1783, Catharine continued to write and publish. Like Mary Wollstonecraft, Catharine believed that women’s ‘weakness’ was due to their lack of education, and if they had the same opportunities as men they would excel. She also called for the abolition of capital punishment, reform of the penal system, and the abolition of slavery.

Catharine Macaulay died on 22nd June 1791, after suffering from poor health for many years. She was not a campaigner for women’s rights, but she furthered this cause because of the way she lived her life. Catharine acted as if gender equality already existed: she refused to leave the room with other women after dinner, and she once said that “a historian is of no sex.” She was determined to achieve her goals, no matter whether or not society deemed them appropriate. By achieving those goals, she paved the way for other women to follow similar paths.

Sources and Further Reading

Donnelly, Lucy Martin. “The Celebrated Mrs. Macaulay,” William and Mary Quarterly. Vol. VI (1949): pp. 173–205.

Gleason, Emily Gilbert. “Macaulay, Catharine (1731-1791).” Women in World History: A Biographical Encyclopedia. Last modified 2002, accessed 9th May 2019. Available at https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/macaulay-catharine-1731-1791

Hill, Bridget. The Republican Virago: The Life and Times of Catharine Macaulay, Historian. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992.

Hill, Bridget. “Macaulay [nee Strawbridge; other married name Graham], Catharine.” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Last modified 24th May 2012, accessed 9th May 2019. Available at https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/17344 (subscription required to access).

Wikipedia. “Catharine Macaulay.” Last modified 11th April 2019, accessed 9th May 2019. Available at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catharine_Macaulay

London’s Protest Stickers: Brexit

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Brexit has become a popular topic for people who make and distribute protest stickers (Photo: Hannah Awcock, North Bank of the Thames, 12/09/17).

In September 2016, I wrote a London’s Protest Stickers blog post about the EU Referendum. Little did I know that not only would we still be talking it about Brexit two and a half years later, but that we would be no closer to a resolution. The Brexit debate has rumbled on, getting more bitter and divisive as time goes on. As with any significant political issue, Brexit had become a popular topic for London’s protest stickers.

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Most of the protest stickers I come across are anti-Brexit, but I do find the occasional pro-Brexit sticker, like this one. Britannic Union is a right-wing, pro-Brexit Twitter account (Photo: Hannah Awcock, King’s Road, 08/04/19).

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This sticker is faded and torn, but it is still recognisable. It was produced by the Liberal Democrats, who campaigned to Remain in the run-up to the referendum (Photo: Hannah Awcock, Broad Sanctuary, 18/10/16).

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It is quite unusual to find a handmade sticker like this one. It isn’t going to win any art prizes, but I think that it is quite effective in getting the message across (Photo: Hannah Awcock, Guildford Street, 10/01/17).

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This sticker is also handmade, and is a little more artistic. It doesn’t directly refer to Brexit, but the message I take from it is that Britain can’t survive alone, and in the current political climate it’s hard not to link it to the EU. Sometimes, people respond to stickers by writing on or around them. In this case, someone has taken the message of the sticker a little too literally. I love the way that protest stickers sometimes spark debates on city streets (Photo: Hannah Awcock, 09/10/16).

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This sticker is about the cost of student housing, not Brexit. But it was placed on the inside of a toilet cubicle, and became the site of a quite heated Brexit debate. In this case, the tradition of writing on the walls of toilet cubicles has become political (Photo: Hannah Awcock, Senate House Library, 10/01/17)

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This sticker is simple, but effective (Photo: Hannah Awcock, 01/09/17, Exhibition Road).

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This Bollocks to Brexit sticker has become a common sight all over the country over the last few years (Photo: Hannah Awcock, 12/10/17, Swiss Cottage).

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This is another simple design, which resembles the Run DMC logo (Photo: Hannah Awcock, 27/12/18, Southbank).

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The question of whether or not to have a second referendum is a very contentious one. Lots of people are campaigning for a ‘People’s Vote’ (Photo: Hannah Awcock, 04/06/18, Victoria Station).

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What better way to finish than with a Rick Astley pun?(Photo: Hannah Awcock, 21/09/17, Tottenham Court Road).

Book Review: The Italian Boy- Murder and Grave-robbery in 1830s London

The Italian Boy front cover

The Italian Boy by Sarah Wise.

Sarah Wise. The Italian Boy: Murder and Grave-robbery in 1830s London. London: Pimlico, 2005. RRP £7.99 paperback

Most people have heard of Burke and Hare, the infamous Edinburgh murderers. Fewer people know that London had its own episode of ‘burking’ in 1831. In the early 19th century, London’s anatomists and medical schools needed many more bodies for dissection than could be provided by legal means. A lucrative trade in corpses developed, and ‘Resurrectionists’ could make a good income by digging up the recently buried and selling them to hospitals and medical schools. In late 1831, two Resurrectionists in Bethnal Green decided to cut out the middle man, and began murdering London’s poor and neglected in order to sell the bodies. They were caught trying to sell the body of a young boy to the anatomy department at King’s College. The ensuing court case, and eventual conviction and execution of two of the men, John Bishop and Thomas Williams, caused a morbid scandal that enthralled London. It led to the passing of the 1832 Anatomy Act, which eventually put an end to the illicit trade in corpses. In The Italian Boy: Murder and Grave-robbery in 1830s London, Sarah Wise tells the story of the murderers, their apprehension, trial, and execution in impressive detail. She also uses the story as a springboard, branching out to look at many elements of London in the first half of the nineteenth century, including poverty, housing, healthcare, and even animal welfare. The result is an interesting account of a gruesome story that captures London on the verge of rapid and dramatic transformation.

The case of the Italian boy (it was quickly decided, although never decisively proven, that the final victim was an Italian street performer) captured the public imagination in a way that only an incredibly gory crime can. As such, a significant amount of archival material about the case, largely court records and newspaper articles, has survived. As such, Wise is able to provide an incredible amount of detail about the events surrounding the case. At some points, it was almost a little too much detail; I got distracted trying to keep track of the sheer number of pubs that the men visited in the days before they were arrested at King’s, and the order in which they visited them. Despite all this detail, there are still many elements of the case that are unknown, and will never be known. It will never be possible to confirm exactly how many people were killed, for example, nor to find out what happened to John Bishop’s children after their father was executed. Wise was able to trace the some of the children to Shoreditch workhouse in 1835, but then they disappear without trace.

It is a well-known frustration amongst researchers who use archives that the voices of the poor rarely get preserved. In the Preface of The Italian Boy, Wise argues that she saw this story as an opportunity to find out about the poorest residents of nineteenth century London: “The story appeared to me to be a window on the lives of the poor at a period of great change: a window that is badly damaged – opaque in places, blocked out or shattered in others – but offering a glimpse of those who have left little authentic trace of themselves” (Wise, 2005; p. xvii). It is true that you have to use archives creatively in order to find out about the lives of the poor in the past, but this might be the most creative method I’ve come across. Whilst I’m not sure it is representative of the lives of the vast majority of London’s poor, it does provide an insight into the society in which they struggled to survive.

The Italian Boy strikes a good balance between academic rigour and popular appeal. Wise tells the story of the London burkers well, but also uses it to look at broader themes in a way that is more common in academic journal articles or books. If you are interested in the history of London, crime and the criminal justice system, or indeed the development of modern healthcare, then I recommend you give it a go.

 

 

 

On This Day: The Massacre of St. George’s Fields, 10th May 1768

John Wilkes

John Wilkes was a vocal critic of George III and enjoyed significant popular support (Source: National Picture Gallery)

Most people have probably never heard of John Wilkes, but in the eighteenth century he was one of London’s most popular radicals. On the 10th May 1768, soldiers opened fire on some of his supporters outside the King’s Bench Prison in Southwark where Wilkes was being held. 6 or 7 people were killed, including bystanders, in an event that would become known as the Massacre of St. George’s Fields.

John Wilkes was a radical MP, and in June 1762 he started a newspaper, The North Briton, which was very critical of both the government and the monarchy. He was protected by parliamentary privilege, which means that MPs have legal immunity for things they do or say in the course of their duties. This only protected Wilkes up to a point, however, and he eventually went too far, publishing a poem that the House of Lords deemed to be obscene and blasphemous. They started the process of expelling Wilkes from the House of Commons, which would have removed his parliamentary privilege and left him open to prosecution. Wilkes fled to Paris before this could happen. In his absence he was found guilty of obscene and seditious libel and declared an outlaw on the 19th of January 1764.

Wilkes hoped that a change of government would lead to the charges against him being dropped. He ran out of money before that happened, however, and had to return to England. He wasn’t immediately arrested, as the government feared it would only increase his support base. Wilkes was elected as MP for Middlesex, but in April decided to waive his parliamentary privilege and hand himself over to the court of the King’s Bench. He was sentenced to 10 months in prison and given a £500 fine.

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A map of St. George’s Fields in the late eighteenth century. The King’s Bench Prison is on the right hand side, near the junction of New Road and Blackman Street (Source: Mapco).

Wilkes was taken to the King’s Bench Prison in Southwark, on the edge of a large open space called St. George’s Field (an area stretching from Waterloo Station to Borough High Street today). As news of Wilkes’ imprisonment spread, his supporters began to gather on St. George’s Fields. The numbers increased daily, and by the 10th of May there were around 15,000 people there. Fearful of the large crowd, four Justices of the Peace requested military support, and a detachment of Horse Grenadier Guards were sent. This only increased tensions, however, as the crowd taunted the soldiers.

A group of soldiers chased one man who was being particularly offensive into a nearby barn. They opened fire, killing William Allen, an innocent bystander. As news of Allen’s death spread, the situation on St. George’s Fields only got worse. The Riot Act was read and more soldiers were called for, amongst fears that the crowd would attempt to break Wilkes out of prison. The crowd began to throw stones at the soldiers, who opened fire. In total, 6 or 7 people were killed, including another innocent bystander, and about 15 people were injured. Admittedly this isn’t a large number of casualties, but at the time it was quite significant. Understandably afraid for their lives, the crowd on St. George’s Field broke up, but as news of what had happened spread through London, sporadic rioting broke out across the city.

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William Allen, who had nothing to do with the protest, was shot and killed by soldiers (Source: UNIVERSAL HISTORY ARCHIVE/UIG VIA GETTY IMAGES).

Two soldiers were charged with the murder of William Allen, but they were not convicted. Allen’s father presented a petition to parliament asking for justice for his son, which led to a debate about whether the government, who had supported the soldiers, was too oppressive. Nothing came of it though. In a letter to some of his supporters in America, Wilkes suggested that the massacre may have been pre-planned by the government, although there is no evidence of this. Wlkes was released from prison in March 1770. He was re-elected as an MP several times, and each time Parliament expelled him. Instead, he was appointed a Sheriff of London, becoming Lord Mayor in 1774. During the 1780 Gordon Riots, Wilkes fought against the rioters, which significantly damaging his reputation with the people and other radicals.

John Wilkes was a champion of anti-government feeling and the right to free speech. His popularity with the people of London terrified the authorities, which may explain why the situation on St. George’s Fields escalated so quickly. Or, it could just be an example of poor policing exacerbating a crowd, which has happened on many other occasions. Either way, it was a dramatic and deadly episode in the constant struggle between the authorities and the people for London’s streets.

Sources and Further Reading

German, Lindsey, and John Rees. A People’s History of London. London: Verso, 2012.

Harris, Sean. “The Massacre of St. George’s Fields and the Petition of William Allen.” UK Parliament. Last modified 31 October 2016, accessed 23rd April 2019. Available at https://www.parliament.uk/business/committees/committees-a-z/commons-select/petitions-committee/petition-of-the-month/the-massacre-of-st-georges-fields-and-the-petition-of-william-allen-the-elder/

Simkin, John. “St. George’s Fields Riot.” Spartacus Educational. Last modified August 2014, accessed 23rd April 2019. Available at https://spartacus-educational.com/LONstgeorge.htm

TeachingHistory.org. “Boston’s Bloody Affray.” No date, accessed 7th May 2019. Available at https://teachinghistory.org/history-content/ask-a-historian/23472

White, Jerry. London in the Eighteenth Century: A Great and Monstrous Thing. London: The Bodley Head, 2012.

Wikipedia. “Massacre of St George’s Fields.” Last modified 15th March 2019, accessed 23rd April 2019. Available at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Massacre_of_St_George%27s_Fields

Turbulent Londoners: Emily Faithfull, 1835-1895

Turbulent Londoners is a series of posts about radical individuals in London’s history who contributed to the city’s contentious past, with a particular focus of women, whose contribution to history is often overlooked. My definition of ‘Londoner’ is quite loose, anyone who has played a role in protest in the city can be included. Any suggestions for future Turbulent Londoners posts are very welcome. Next up is Emily Faithfull, a women’s rights activist and publisher


Emily Faithfull

A photo of Emily Faithfull taken in the mid-late 1860s (Source: National Portrait Gallery)

Many discussions about women’s rights in the second half of the nineteenth century focus on the campaign for the right to vote. However, there were other parallel campaigns related to women’s legal and employment rights. Emily Faithfull was a publisher and activist who supported the suffrage campaign, but was more concerned with fighting for gender equality in the world of work.

Emily Faithfull was born on 27 May 1835 in Surrey. She was the youngest of 8 children, and her father was a reverend. Her family were clearly relatively high status, as she was presented at court in 1857, a ceremony associated with turning 18 that was reserved for elites and those with royal connections.

Emily joined the Langham Place Circle, a group of prominent women who advocated for legal, educational, and employment reform for women. Other members included Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon, Emily Davies, and Bessie Rayner Parks. The group founded the Society for Promoting the Employment of Women (or SPEW, although not to be confused with Hermione Granger’s Society for the Protect of Elfish Welfare in the Harry Potter series); Emily Faithfull was Secretary.

In 1860, Emily founded an all-female publishers with the goal of expanding employment opportunities for women. The Victoria Press quickly gained a good reputation, and the following year was appointed printer and publisher in ordinary to Queen Victoria. Emily’s actions greatly upset the London Printer’s Union, who argued that women weren’t strong or intelligent enough for typesetting work. Between 1860 and 1866, the Press published the English Woman’s Journal, a feminist monthly periodical discussing women’s employment and other equality issues. From 1863 until 1881, the press published the monthly Victoria Magazine, which also advocated for women’s employment. Emily was a prolific journalist as well as a publisher; she wrote for the Victoria Magazine, the Lady’s Pictorial and the Pall Mall Gazette.

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The Victoria Press in full swing (Source: Princeton)

In January 1864, Emily published the first annual report of the Ladies London Emancipation Society. The Victoria Press would go on to publish more material for this group. 1864 was a difficult year for Emily, however. She was implicated in the scandalous and very public divorce of Admiral Henry Codrington and Helen Jane Smith Codrington. The exact role Emily played was never revealed, but the gossip was damaging enough. Her reputation suffered, and she was shunned by the Langham Place Circle.

Emily’s social isolation didn’t stop her campaigning, however. In 1868, she published a novel, Change Upon Change, a tragic romance that emphasised the need for women’s education. She was also a successful lecturer, giving talks to further the interests of women. This included two tours of America, in 1872 and 1882. In 1875, she joined the Women’s Trade Union League.

Emily moved to Manchester in her later years, and died on 31st May 1895. Throughout her life, she used speech, print, and her own business to argue that women deserved, and were capable of, a much wider range of employment than was accessible to them at the time. She deserves to be remembered as one of the pioneers of British feminism.

Sources and Further Reading

Simkin, John. “Emily Faithfull.” Last modified January 2015, accessed 3rd April 2019. Available at https://spartacus-educational.com/Wfaithfull.htm

Wikipedia, “Emily Faithfull.” Last modified 7th January 2019, accessed 3rd April 2019. Available at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Faithfull

Protest Stickers: Edinburgh

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This is one of the first things I saw when I arrived in Edinburgh. It’s so stereotypically Scottish, it felt like a perfect welcome to the city (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

In the summer of 2018, I visited Edinburgh for the first time. I really liked the city, it has a vibrancy and energy that is something quite special. I was there for the start of the Edinburgh festivals, a month-long celebration of theatre, music, and comedy that is famous around the world. One of the other highlights of my trip was visiting the Scottish Parliament, which is much more open and accessible than the Palace of Westminster. It was great to be able to visit the building where mainstream politics in Scotland plays out. The Parliament is not the only space for politics to play out in the city, however. The streets are an active site of informal, everyday politics, protest, and social movements. One form this takes is protest stickers, fragments of  politics that can tell you an awful lot about a city, if you look closely enough.

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Brexit is the most divisive issue in the UK at the moment. This sticker was produced during the EU referendum campaign in 2016. It is practically an antique by protest sticker standards, it is unusual for one to survive so long ‘in the wild’ (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker looks more recent, but it could also have been produced in the run-up to the EU referendum. Scotland voted to remain in the referendum, which is now helping to fuel demands for another referendum, this time about Scotland’s independence from the UK (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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I assume that this sticker is also pro-EU, combining the flags of Scotland and the European Union. I didn’t see a single pro-Brexit sticker whilst I was in Edinburgh (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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There has already been a referendum on Scottish independence recently. On the 18th of September 2014, 55.3% of Scottish voters voted to stay in the United Kingdom. The main campaign in favour of independence was simply called Yes Scotland. The campaign produced lots of resources with this logo on it, so there’s a chance that this sticker could be even older than the Remain sticker (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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As with Brexit, calls for another referendum on Scottish independence began not long after the result of the first vote was announced. This sticker is shorthand for the campaign, calling for a second chance to vote yes on Scottish independence (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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J.K. Rowling, the creator of Harry Potter, lives in Edinburgh. The cafe where she wrote some of the books has become a site of pilgrimage for tourists and Potter fans, and there are several shops in the city dedicated to the franchise. The author can be quite vocal on social media about her political opinions, so this sticker could be referring to the criticism she receives because of this, or it may be about complaints she gets from fans who disagree with decisions she made about particular characters or storylines (Photo: Hannah Awcock)

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This sticker is weathered and faded, but it is still possible to make out that Harry Potter is being used to recreate the famous Kitchener recruitment poster from World War One. The sticker could be referring to trade unions, but because of the Union flag background I think it is more likely referring to the union of Great Britain. If this is the case, then it is possible that this sticker also dates back to the Scottish independence referendum in 2014 (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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Gender was another recurring theme amongst the city’s protest stickers. This sticker was produced by the Edinburgh branch of Sisters Uncut, a group which takes direct action to demand better funding for domestic violence services. Since 2010, funding for refuges for survivors of domestic violence has been cut by a quarter (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker refers to another referendum, this time in Ireland. In May 2018, the Irish people voted to repeal the 8th amendment of their constitution, allowing the government to make abortion legal. The vote represented a huge shift in cultural values in Ireland, traditionally a very conservative and Catholic country (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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Most of the protest stickers I come across are printed, but some, like this one, are handwritten. They cannot be mass-produced, but they require no equipment or computer skills to produce (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker is in French, it translates to: “Neither to take take, nor to sell…women are not objects!” (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker is in Spanish, the text means: “Death to patriarchy, death to capital.” It is not uncommon to find stickers from other places in a city, but it is uncommon to find stickers from other countries unless you are in major cities like Edinburgh or London (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker is truly international. FC. St. Pauli is a German football team based in Hamburg, and Fanclub Catalunya is a fan club dedicated to the team based in Catalonia. They combine their love of sports with campaigning on all kinds of political issues, particularly Catalonian independence. After an unofficial referendum in October 2017, pro-independence parties in the Catalan parliament declared independence from Spain. The Spanish government responded by ending the region’s autonomy. A year and a half on, 2 activists and 7 politicians are still in prison, facing charges of rebellion and misuse of public funds. Others are in exile, and would be arrested if they returned to Spain (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker isn’t quite as exotic as some of the others. It was produced by Glasgow Marxists, which I think is a student group (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker is advertising a fundraising concert in Glasgow in August 2018. The proceeds went to the Scottish Refugee Council and United Glasgow (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

 

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This sticker is advertising a local event, part of a nationwide demonstration against the highly unpopular Universal Credit, which rolls several different benefit payments into one. It hasn’t been rolled out across the country yet, but in places where it has been introduced it has been blamed for severe financial difficulties and hardship (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker was produced by the Anarchist Federation, which makes quite a few different stickers. They often use cartoons and other characters from popular culture  in their stickers. I don’t recognise this character though, if anyone can tell me I would be grateful! (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

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This sticker also makes use of popular culture, playing on Yoda from Star Wars’s unusual style of talking. Veganism and animal rights is one of the most popular topics of protest stickers recently (Photo: Hannah Awcock).

A Symbol of Hope: Visiting Greenpeace’s MV Esperanza

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Patricia Awcock, long-term Greenpeace supporter (Photo: Hannah Awcock)

The international environmental campaign group Greenpeace has been associated with ships since their very first protest in 1971 when they attempted to interrupt US nuclear testing on Amchitka Island in Alaska. Greenpeace now has 3 ships which it uses to conduct scientific research, raise awareness, and engage in direct action to protect the environment. On the weekend of 13th-14th of April 2019 one of these ships, the MV Esperanza, was docked in London. Greenpeace supporters were given the opportunity to tour the ship. One of those who accepted the invite was Patricia Awcock (a.k.a my Mum!), who has been supporting Greenpeace for 4 decades. Here, she reflects on the experience and what it meant to her.


I have been a proud member of Greenpeace for 40 years. Even then, I understood the dangers facing our planet and I also knew that I am not a natural protester or activist! That is why I have been happy to contribute to Greenpeace; I saw the value of their activism and just knew that someone had to do what Greenpeace was prepared to do. I have followed the campaigns through the years, but always from a distance. I was extremely pleased and excited, therefore, to be given the opportunity to visit MV Esperanza when she was docked in London at the weekend.

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The MV Esperanza in the West India Millwall Docks (Photo: Graeme Awcock).

I was surprisingly moved when I caught my first glimpse of MV Esperanza. She seemed to be completely dwarfed by the high-rise buildings that represent the centre of capitalism, but the Greenpeace colours, rainbow, and painted dove shone so brightly in the sunshine that she seemed to act as a metaphor of optimism and resilience. Esperanza means ‘hope’ in Spanish, and she really did send out a message of hope; the West India Millwall Docks, so close to Canary Wharf, was the perfect setting!

The visit helped me to understand, however, that the Greenpeace ships are not just a symbol of an organisation that is willing to take on large corporations in such a dramatic manner. They are gritty, smelly, basic working ships that undertake vital work, in extremely dangerous conditions. They are not only engaged in direct action campaigns, but are also involved in scientific exploration, helping to provide vital evidence that is needed in the fight to protect the oceans. This mixture of direct action and scientific exploration is what, I believe, makes Greenpeace such an important organisation.

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Patricia Awcock and the MV Esperanza. The green colour scheme, with the rainbow and white dove, ensures that all three of the Greenpeace ships are immediately recognisable (Photo: Graeme Awcock).

I have always had great respect for the volunteers who put their lives on hold, and sometimes in danger, to join campaigns for many months, but seeing the reality of their living conditions and learning about the daily responsibilities and duties made me even more appreciative of what they are prepared to do.

Over the last 40 years, I have frequently become despondent about the increasing negative impact humans are having on the planet. I have often wondered whether I am wasting my money by donating Greenpeace. What are they actually achieving? Visiting MV Esperanza made me realise, however, just how important the work of Greenpeace is, and that the symbolism of the organisation is just as important as their activism and scientific exploration.

Maybe one day I will actually take part in a protest, but in the meantime I am just so grateful that Greenpeace is carrying out such vital and dangerous work in my name.

Book Review: Black and British- A Forgotten History

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Black and British by David Olusoga.

David Olusoga. Black and British: A Forgotten History. London: Pan, 2017. RRP £9.99 paperback.

In the introduction to Black and British, David Olusoga tells a disturbing story from his childhood, where his family were driven out of their home by racist attacks in 1984. After they left, a swastika was painted on the front door, along with the words “NF [National Front] won here.” My response was: “I know racism is still a problem in the UK, but at least it isn’t that bad any more.” A few days later, the story broke about Vaughan Dowd painting racist graffiti on the front door of 10-year-old David Yamba and his father in Salford, Greater Manchester. I was shocked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed by my naivety in believing that this kind of thing doesn’t happen any more. Black and British is an excellent introduction to thousands of years of intertwined history between black people and the British isles, that helps put the racist ideology behind the persecution of the Yamba family into context.

In Black and British, David Olusoga eloquently explores the place of black people in British history, stretching back to the Roman occupation and beyond. He brings the story up to the 1980s, arguing that his personal memories of the period since then limit his ability to be impartial. In between, he covers a huge swathe of historical material, ranging from Britain’s role in both the growth and eventual decline of the Atlantic slave trade, through the influence of black music on British culture, to the impacts of the presence of African-American GIs in the UK during the Second World War.

What I find most innovative about Black and British is Olusoga’s definition of ‘British’. He doesn’t just consider people who live in the British isles, or who hold British citizenship, but everyone who’s lives were shaped by Britain or her people. For example, the book includes a fascinating exploration of the history of Freetown, the capital of Sierra Leone, which was founded as a colony for poor black people ‘repatriated’ from London in the late 1700s. The city thrived as the base for the Royal Navy’s West Africa Squadron, who were responsible for enforcing the ban on the slave trade. Slaves from throughout Western Africa were freed by the Royal Navy’s ships, and made their homes in the city, creating a vibrant and diverse population. Sierra Leone is 5000 km from the Britain, but Olusoga’s writing makes the connections between them impossible to deny.

I also admire the way that Black and British is not just a history of racism in Britain, although it does tell that story very well. It is predominantly about the lives of black people with the British sphere of influence, their triumphs and their tragedies, and their attempts to create a space for themselves within British society. It is easy to focus on racism when we think about black people in the UK, but there is so much more to the story than that. People should be defined by who they are and what they do, not the prejudice they face, and Black and British does that.

There has been (and perhaps, still is), a tendency to overlook the role of black people in British history, an erasure that helps to undermine the ability of black people to assert their right to be part of a society that they have contributed to for hundreds of years. Black and British is just one part of an attempt to rewrite British history in a way that more accurately reflects the contribution of black people, and it does a wonderful job. It has profoundly altered my understanding of the history of Britain, and I think that everyone who lives in Britain or considers themselves British should read it.