To the British navy and merchant marine, however, the brig Holkar was a menace.

Slowed only by the captured ships and other prizes they had to sell, Captain Rowland and his crew turned back home to turn in his prizes. The Emu was taken to New York, and other prizes to other ports.

After he’d sold his prizes, Rowland found himself near the coast of Rhode Island. There, his relatively small boat came across a massive British frigate, or ship of the line.

The HMS Orpheus searches for privateers to destroy

As for Captain Rowland, he continued capturing boats until he came across a British frigate, the Orpheus. Frigates tend to have around fourty guns, and according to author William James (who is decidedly conservative when it comes to British firepower) the Orpheus had 36 guns. The brig Holkar, the first time it appeared in British newspapers, had 16. (It also had 16 guns when an Australian author wrote about it nearly two centuries later. Not surprisingly, however, at the quick defeat of the Emu, British reports exaggerated the Holkar’s gun-power to 18.)

The Orpheus was well over twice the size of the brig Holkar, and more likely three or four times. HMS Orpheus was a professionally built ship made of the finest materials for the world’s most powerful navy. The Holkar was a quickly made private investment commanded by an obscure captain in an impoverished nation.

The Orpheus was at that time commanded by Thomas Hardy. Hardy knew that his ship had superior strength to most of the privateers. For the most part, American privateers weren’t worth capturing, so Hardy aimed to destroy.

Hardy blew other little privateer vessels to pieces, some were probably not even worth mentioning. I don’t even know how many of their crews or captains survived, if any.

11 May 1813, the Orpheus meets the Holkar

However, Captain Rowland would not go down without a fight. The spectacle must have at first been comical to Hardy, when the tiny Holkar dared point its guns at the massive Orpheus.

Edgar Morton Maclay, in his “A History of American Privateers”, says that through determined firing, Captain Rowland initially succeeded in repelling the Orpheus. A few well placed shots, and Thomas Hardy retreated to look for easier prey.

Despite this small triumph, the men of the Holkar couldn’t celebrate yet. Soon after the action, the Holkar’s crew had noticed fifteen bodies in British uniforms floating in the water, and being washed onto the shore. Among those floating bodies was a “captain of marines”, “Captain” or Lieutenant Collins.* The British frigate Orpheus came quickly into view, and the Orpheus was hungry for revenge.

The Holkar runs for its life

Captain Rowland knew that vengeance from the HMS Orpheus would be nasty. So, to save the lives of his men, Rowlands landed the Holkar and had his men flee, leaving the brig behind.

British reports say that the Holkar’s men didn’t run far.  They waited nearby, with rifles aimed at the ready, ready to protect their ship if the British tried to steal it.

As it was too shallow for the massive frigate to follow, Hardy sent in a Commander Dance to go after the Holkar, presumably to destroy it, as the brig was considered unfit for the imperial navy.

The legend of Captain Dance and ticking bomb

Captain Christopher Claxon once told a tale, intended for “juvenile readers”, about Commander Dance’s run in with the Holkar. Like all stories about this period, it began believably enough, Captain Hardy had sent Dance with his boats to destroy the privateer.

At the start of the story, the American crew, with Captain Rowlands, was waiting on the beach with rifles, ready to defend their brig. (The stereotype spread at that time by the like of William James was that Americans, due to living out in the wild, were all born sharp-shooters. So, juvenile British readers would have had goose bumps to hear that their hero Dance was faced by Americans with rifles.)

Well, in this juvenile story, Dance didn’t simply destroy the Holkar by setting it on fire and shooting it to bits as commanded. No, instead Dance boarded the Holkar and went below deck.

Once there, Dance saw a trail of gunpowder (just like in the cartoons) which was lit and the flame was moving fast. Almost all of the gunpowder had been burnt up, so that the flame was nearly at the magazine. For those who know a little about ships, the magazine usually has a pretty intense concentration of gunpower, and many a ship has exploded by accident when a careless seaman drops a match.

According to Claxton’s story, if the fuse reached the magazine, the explosion would blow up not only Dance and his party who entered the Holkar, but all the men in boats around. (Unlike in the cartoons, they could not survive such a blast.)

Apparently, Dance then “with coolness and intrepidity” put the flame out with his finger, getting a booboo in the process.

Well, in the story Dance’s finger did get a little burnt, but even if the story were true, I don’t see that as being particularly brave. I mean, burn your finger or get blown to bits? Really, I hope most people would sacrifice the finger.

I’m amazed that Captain Rowlands would have time to come up with such a scheme.

It’s true, Americans had used fire ships in other wars, a practice which goes back centuries in naval warfare.  But those well documented fireships were carefully planned. Considering Captain Rowland’s conduct elsewhere, I find it unbelievable that he’d destroy his own ship in such a fashion, and risk the lives of his own men as well as his own, just to take a few small landing boats and a few seamen. (Captain Rowlands probably knew that some of those men may have been Americans were who forced to sail under impressment.)

Whatever the case, Commander Dance is then said to have set the Holkar on fire, destroying the ship anyway (and risking that the magazine would explode in a similar fashion.)

My guess is the reason that this story didn’t seem to appear anywhere else is because either Dance or his friend Captain Christopher Claxton made it up.

That’s not the only thing made up.

How many guns did Captain Rowland’s Holkar really have?

Privateers like Captain Holkar and his crew earned their living by selling prizes, but privateers weren’t the only people paid on commission in 1812. Sailors in the official navies got prize money when they captured or destroyed a ship, and the British were especially apt at rewarding their war heroes with money.

Captured ships were put into classes. If the defeated ship had over a certain number of crew, or over a certain number of guns, the victorious crew would get more money for its capture or destruction.

So it’s no surprize that, after the Holkar (and the evidence of her size) was destroyed, the British papers reported her as having 20 guns. Had the brig Holkar only 16 or fewer guns as official American records said, then Commander Dance and his men wouldn’t get as much prize money for destroying her.

When he brought in his prisoners, Captain Rowland said something which could have later cost the captain of a the “Holkar II” his life.  Meanwhile, Susannah Lalliment and the other convicts were still stranded on a small island in Capo Verde.

(to be continued.)

* The British account printed in the London Gazzette in July 1813, repeated in many other places, says that Lieutenant Collins was killed by the Wampoe, an 8 gun letter of Marque, which had been destroyed by the boats of the Orpheus the previous month.  This account also says that Collins was the only person hurt, and implies that there were no casualties in the struggle against the Holkar. While these facts are possible, the Gazette’s assertion that the Holkar had 20 guns is just not credible.

In October, after a few months in the London prison, she was put with dozens of other women on board the “Emu.” (The believable numbers of convicts on board the Emu vary from 40-60. One source even claimed 200, but they got the name of the ship wrong.)

October 1812, The Emu departs for Australia

The Emu was no cruise ship. She carried 11 guns (although she only admitted to 10), and she had a “patent defense” system to stop anyone from boarding. There were a couple dozen sailors on board the well armed vessel. They were ready for pirates.

Though the French, in the words of Shafic Ghorbal, were “without a navy worthy of the name”, there were still active privateers and pirates out to harass British vessels.

The Danes gave the Brits a run for their money. Pirates from small states around the world looked for easy prey, capturing crews and holding them for ransom, or worse. And in June, nearly a month before Susannah had been sentenced, the United States had declared war on Britain.  British ships were the cause of American anger, and they’d soon be the focus of it.

The Anglo-Saxon tribes of Britain had a long tradition of privateering. They did “commerce raiding” on the Spaniards since the times of Elizabeth. Legalized piracy, or privateering was an art that the Anglo-Saxon had never quite abandoned since his days in the Jutland peninsular. And now that her former colonies in America had declared war on Britain, British civilian ships were fair game for the Anglo-Saxon privateer.

The newspapers let sea captains know what to expect. On Tuesday October 20, 1812, about the same time that the Emu left England, the “Morning Chronicle” warned its readers of American privateers in search of British booty. Among the privateers sent out from New York were five brigs and four schooners, including the Retaliation of 9 guns, the Anaconda of 18 guns, and the Holkar, listed as having 16 guns. (Not to be confused with a ship of the same name which captured ammunition in the American Revolution.)

Most British ships traveled in a convoy, and Susannah’s prison ship, the Emu, was no exception.

The Emu left Portsmouth under the protection of the 185 ton brig James Hay, commanded by Captain William Campbell.  But the Emu’s commander, a Lieutenant Bisset, didn’t stay with his babysitters for long. At Lisbon, Bisset took his ship away from the confines of the convoy. The Emu was now on her own, with a skeleton crew, far outnumbered by the prisoners on board.

October 1812, The Holkar Recruits in New Haven

Newspapers disagreed on just how many guns the Privateer Holkar had. Considering her speed, she probably had fewer than the 16 which most historians credit her with.

In Connecticut, a tale is told about the Holkar’s first days at sea. Unable to recruit a big enough crew to man her 16 guns in New York, Captain Rowland the took the Holkar to New Haven, Connecticut, in search of more hands. To get attention, and to show off the power of their new ship, the crew fired round after round from all 16 cannons, (if there were that many), frightening some of the townspeople who thought that the port of New Haven was under attack.

At first, a distaste for this legal form of piracy made recruiting for the Holkar next to impossible. After a few days passed, however, the Holkar found among the population of New Haven some of the older sea dogs who were perhaps too aged to get jobs on ordinary ships. If it were only patriotism that were motivating them, young men might have served in the regular navy, but the older men were willing to take greater risks (and sacrifice some of their virtues) for money.

Soon, the batch of desperadoes were off, and they met up with ship after ship, and took several prizes. These included the Dorcus, and an unnamed 14 gun brig, as well as two trading vessels, whose booty was sold to pay off the Holkar’s crew. None of these victims seemed to make the British newspapers, perhaps they were thought to be lost at sea. Soon, however, the “twelve” gun brig Emu spotted the “sixteen” gun brig Holkar. The Emu’s commanding sailor was ready for a fight.

18th November, 1812, The Holkar meets The Emu

The “Captain” of the Emu, Lieutenant Bisset, was “an arrogant lieutenant of the British Navy.” Bisset knew that the privateers were in the tradition of boarding their prize, and the ship was built in such a way as to make boarding nearly impossible. If he and the crew of the Emu put up enough of a resistance, perhaps the Holkar would leave them alone.

Perhaps to the disappointment of the old sea dogs on the Holkar, (as to fans of naval battles) the Emu put up no resistance. With the exception of Bisset’s first mate and one other, the crew of the Emu refused to fight against the Yankees.

Did they refuse because they sympathised with the American cause, or because they feared for the safety of Susannah Lalliment and the other women on board? The records I’ve found don’t answer that question. Either way, the quick surrender showed that the Emu’s crew didn’t think of the American privateer as “pirates”, but more as chivalrous warriors who would treat their prisoners well. While they were right about Captain Rowland’s intention, the crew of the Emu could not have guessed what would happen next.

10th January 1813, the fall of the Aurora

Captain Rowland and his Holkar needed the money, as we’ve said, so they carried on raiding. Next, they captured the Aurora on 10th of January, 1813. Towing all these ships were a bit taxing, so they decided to give the female prisoners on board the Emu their “liberty” while they took some of the men back to America as prisoners of war.

15th January 1813, Susannah Lalliment is “set free”

The Holkar liberated the female convicts by marooning the poor girls on an island off the coast of Africa. The captives on the Emu were left with enough provisions, or food, for six months, and the
island had no lack of water. It wasn’t totally deserted either, there was a mission run by Portuguese nuns.

However, apart from the nuns, not many ships stopped by St. Vincent island in Capo Verde in 1812. The convicts had very little clothing, no were to escape to. If only the Holkar had taken Susannah to America, instead of deserting her with convicted felons. Before long, the provisions of the castaways would run out. Meanwhile, the Holkar was still on a cruise.

(continued…)

(References will be given at the story’s conclusion)

The Lalliments were skilled lace makers in Nottingham. The lace business in Nottingham, however, was changing.  New technology put many traditional craftsmen out of work.

Perhaps being descended from immigrants contributed to workforce mobility.  Susannah and her father moved to London; and that’s where all the trouble started.

The usual story goes like this: To save her father, Susannah accepted the burden of guilt.[*]

The records from the Old Bailey paint another picture.

Susannah worked as a live-in housekeeper for the Newton family.  Her father John Lalliment lived elsewhere.  John would “seldom” visit his daughter, and when he did, he never went upstairs.

The Newtons accused Susannah of stealing a ten pound note from the room upstairs.  They accused her of stealing it from a hidden box, which they claimed was locked.  The Newtons never said how they thought Susan got the key, or why the said key would be lying around.

According to Mr. Newton, when the note went missing, on the night of May 1st, 1812, no one was in the house except his family members  (the other Newtons) and Susannah Lalliment.  So Miss Lalliment had to be the theif.

On the first of July 1812, two months after the alleged theft, Susannah and her father John Lalliment were put on trial for theft of the note.

Susannah denied that the note was locked in a box.

The Newton’s had lodgers, and Susannah claimed that she’d taken money from them too.  “I often found money in the lodgers rooms.  The last money I found was three  shillings.” Susannah said “I told my mistress,” or her boss, Mrs. Newton.  Mrs. Newton told Susannah to put the money on the drawers.

Susannah kept the money, because she thought the lodger was putting it there on purpose to “try” her.  Susannah didn’t try to cover it up, however.  She told the lodger that she took the money he left lying around.

Then, Susannah claimed, she thought that the ten pound bank note was also intentionally left out in the open to tempt her, so she took it.

From her past behavior, the owners claimed it was obvious that Susannah had taken the money, and not her father.  Her father, after all, lived elsewhere, and he had never been to the room where the note was kept.

So why was her father, John Lalliment, on trial?

In those days, they didn’t have the same kind paper money the way we do today.  The ten pound note was more like a cheque or a money order.  So, when the bank note went missing, the owners put a stop on  it.

Susannah apparently gave the note to her father, after he had given her a few shillings.  She told him that she “found the note in the street.”

Susannah claimed to be illiterate, and her father John probably couldn’t read either.

John Lalliment recognized the bank note as money, but he probably didn’t know how bank notes worked.  If he did, he’d know that it wasn’t a good idea to use notes that were left on the street..

So John Lalliment decided to buy “five and sixpense” worth of “calico”, and he used the ten pound bank note that his daughter gave him to pay for it.

Now, John may have asked Susannah to steal the note, but to pretend like she was completely innocent and took the blame for his crime is a stretch.    All the evidence pointed to her.

Susannah did say “my father is quite innocent,” and my guess is, she was telling the truth.

I do think that the owners tempted her after they heard about her taking the money that the lodgers left on the floor.

However, all that was now irrelevant.  The plaintiffs brought forward bankers, cloth sellers, and other witnesses, all who brought forward evidence against the Lalliments.

Susannah was found guilty, and condemned to death.  Her father was found innocent, but he’d never see his daughter again.

Before she’d die, however, Susannah would meet an American “pirate,” Captain Rowland.

[continued...]

References:

• Susannah’s trial at the Old Bailey online

• ([*]More references will be supplied at the story’s conclusion)

I was thinking it would be nice if we could vote for some books that teach history.  It would be a shame if some substandard “chewing gum for the brain” book won.

It would be much worse, however, if the winner were one of those dull “classics” that everyone displays but no one reads.

No, I think it should be something interesting, something people don’t already have on their bookshelf.  Maybe some forgotten episode in history.  The book should be well written, and something that makes people want to learn more.  (Neither jingoistic hero worship nor resentful rants are that interesting.)

I was thinking that Americanos: Latin America’s Struggle for Independence by John Charles Chasteen is a quick read.  We read the personal stories of revolutionaries, travellers, and even mercenaries guarding a postal train.  It has the added advantage of leaving a lot of unanswered questions, and has a great bibliography.

Other books I was considering nominating include CS Forester’s The Barbary Pirates which appears to be out of print.

Although Forester’s book is highly romanticized, it’s a fast and entertaining introduction to the “Tripolitanian War” that trained America’s sea captains for the war of 1812. Besides, it’s just as accurate as many of the academic treaties on the same period (which I know doesn’t say much.)

For World War II lovers, I’d consider The History of the British Army Film & Photographic Unit in the Second World War
by Dr. Fred McGlade.  It covers the story behind some of Britain’s rising filmmakers, as well as the point of view of people on the front. Why do some people think that America won World War II on her own? This book answers the question in more ways than I expected, including interesting eye witness reports of the taking of Rome, the disappearance of photographs, and the campaign to get Americans to join the war.

In addition, Dr. Glade’s book let’s us know why it was so important to document the war without sounding preachy.  He knows how to find the right quotes to bring life to back to the events.

Despite the fact that Dr Glade knows his stuff, he doesn’t write like a stiff academic.  His is definately a book worth reading.

Americans in Paris: Life and Death under Nazi Occupation 1940-44 by Charles Glass is also fascinating. As the title suggests, it explains the way expatriots were treated during the occupation, but it goes beyond that. Glass lets us know

(As this the vote is limited to residents of the UK and Ireland, meaning that most of the eligible voters will be from England, perhaps Dr. McGlade’s book would be more likely to win.)

Some books I would not suggest include Battle Cry For Freedom (an over rated and factually inaccurate compilation of soundbytes), Horrible Histories (though kids find it entertaining, it turns them off from finding out more), and anything written by Osprey in the past ten years or so (nice pictures, terrible history.)

Any other suggestions?

More about World Book Night.

Here the Earth, river, &c torn with furious convulsions, opens in huge trenches, whose deep jaws are instantaneously closed; there throws a thousand vents sulphurous streams gushed from its very bowels, leaving a vast and almost unfathomable caverns. – William Leigh Pierce, eyewitness

1812 was a year of science.  The discovery of dinosaurs, the electric battery, iodine and many other marvels firmly placed the year within the “Age of Reason.”

Tecumseh, from John Frost's Illustrated Historical Sketches of the Indians

At the same time, new “superstitions” were developing.  One of these was helped by three of the most powerful earthquakes America had ever known.  Some scientists fear such earthquakes could come again, and this time, the devastation could be much greater.

Recent Earthquakes are merely aftershocks of the New Madrid (Missouri) quakes from December 1811 to February 1812.

Were the quakes prophesied by Tecumseh?

The quakes were said to be predicted by the great Indian chief Tecumseh. Tecumseh and his brother were around that time gathering the Indian tribes in America.  The British had armed Tecumseh’s followers and encouraged them to attack American settlers, with the hopes of containing and perhaps repossessing the American colonies. [see The Jefferson from a Canadian Point of View.]

While the British instigated and encouraged the Rebellion, it was Tecumseh’s skills as a leader and speaker that made the rebels a threat to the United States.

“You do not believe the great spirit has sent me.” Tecumseh was reported to have said to Indians who were reluctant to follow him, “You shall know.  I leave Tuckabatchee directly, and shall go straight to Detroit.  When I arrive there, I will stamp on the ground with my foot and shake down every house in Tuckabatchee.”

Then, his half skeptical audience counted the days for him to get to Detroit.  The predicted he would arrive there on 16th December, 1811.  And when his “prophecy” proved wrong, they’d know Tecumseh was a liar.

However, on just that date, a massive earthquake hit the Mississippi river and its surrounding area.  “Every house  in Tuckabatchee” indeed fell.

Tecumseh, suspicious of “whites”, (or more accurately non-Indians, including free blacks and those of Indian descent who adopted Western culture), did not give the speech until there were only Indians in the audience.

Some historians doubt that Tecumseh made such a speech at all, because no white men were present to record the events.   I find such an argument ridiculous.  Furthermore, there were American citizens who did hear Tecumseh speak about those Earthquakes (and lived to tell about it.)

John Dunn Hunter was one such man.  “Brothers, the Great Spirit is angry with our enemies.” he later recalled Tecumseh as saying,  “He speaks in thunder, and the earth swallows up villages, and drinks up the Mississippi.  The great waters cover the lowlands.  Their corn cannot grow, and the Great spirit will sweep those who escape to the hills from the earth with his terrible breath.”

Now, I find no evidence that the Great Spirit has bad breath, but most of the other events did happen.  The earthquake was so great that the Mississippi flowed backwards.

The recorded loss of life among American citizens was relatively low, at a few thousand, but with illiteracy rampant, and the fact that the area was sparsely populated by “Westerners” who have passed their records to us, means we don’t know the full death count.

If anything, Tecumseh’s speech under-states the full destructive power of the Earthquake.  William Leigh Pierce was in his boat when one of the earthquakes struck. “One of the spouts which we had seen rising under the boat would inevitably sunk it, and probably have blown it into a thousand fragments[...]”

Yesterday, with the benefit of hindsight and two centuries of scientific research behind it, the skeptical News Tribune reported that the February 1812 earthquake caused “a portion of the Mississippi River to reverse course for several hours.”

Still, many Indian tribes did not want war, and individual Indians did not see Tecumseh as their leader or his brother as a prophet.  “Great Spirit, Whiskey too much, heap drunk,” one Indian was reported as saying about Tecumseh.

(Unfortunately, many settlers did not know, and often did not care to learn, the difference between a peace loving Indian and a warlike one.  As late as 1890, history records massacres of America’s indigenous population, where civilians were treated like warriors and no mercy was given.  Tecumseh, in contrast, treated his prisoners well, and prevented the more bloodthirsty of his followers from hurting the defenseless.)

So, did Tecumseh predict the earthquakes?  Some speculate that he knew the signs to look for.   He may have listened to old tales from his people, developing a science of predicting the future from memory of the distant past.

Note: Tecumseh himself was never seen as “the” prophet.  It was his brother who held this title.  However, many predictions were attributed to Tecumseh.

His name signifies “flying panther” which is sometimes translated to “meteor.”  Tecumseh was also said to have predicted the coming of a comet, among other natural phenomena.

 Sources:

Books

After the Earth Quakes: Elastic Rebound on an Urban Planet
by Susan Elizabeth Hough and Roger G. Bilham.

The Half-way Pacifist: Thomas Jefferson’s View of War, by Reginald C. Stuart, 1979

Larousse Dictionary of North American History

Illustrated historical sketches of the Indians, by John frost(1837)

Journals and other sources

“Tecumseh” by James Mooney; in The Indian Advocate, (Oklahoma), 1st of August, 1903

Anonymous email and Facebook communications, during January 2012.

British and American historic newspapers.

Contemporary news articles including: the above linked “Geologists see fault in Earthquake fears” from the News Tribune in Illinois, Historic Earthquakes from the USGS website, The New Madrid Earthquake: 200 years later by Ladon Jones, and Earthquakes cause small stir in Lake County from The Pacer in Tennessee.

A woodcutter was going about his business, when he turned around and saw the “monstrous” creature. Naturally the woodcutter was afraid of snakes, so he whacked the animal on the head.

That didn’t stop the snake much, so the woodcutter ran for his life.

After running for “more than thirty yards,” the woodcutter looked back, and saw that the “monstrous reptile” was “close to his heels, with his crest erect, at the very point of springing upon him.”

Then the woodcutter struck again.  He was aided by one of his colleagues, and the snake was “with much difficulty killed.”

(Other than its the size, this doesn’t seem to fit the description of a diamond python.)

Not much else made the papers in Australia in 1812.

“There has been a Theatre in Botany Bay for some time.” Quipped the Ipswitch Journal in England on November 28,  “They have a bank which may be thought equally diverting.”

The running stories in the Sydney Herald that month were linked to current affairs abroad and in Britain, with some of them taken directly from the British papers.

As far as local news went, most of that involved shipping news, including people who were leaving and asking anyone who they owed money to come forward.

There were stories of people being punished for “abominable” crimes, but few details were given other than the names of the criminals and the fact that the populace had little sympathy for them.

The Sydney paper also carried advertisements about missing livestock and absconding workers. (There were warnings not to employ these people, as they “belonged” to another employer.)

The population of Sydney was small, but in the next few decades, it was destined to grow.

Sources:

• 1812 ‘SYDNEY.’, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser (NSW : 1803 – 1842), 4 January, p. 2, viewed 1 January, 2012, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article628389
• Other articles and issues of the Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser

A contact of mine is raising money for a documentary about Basque children who escaped to England in 1937.   The contact only has a few hours to raise another tens of thousands of pounds for the project, or they risk losing everything.

There are other historical films, however, where time was even more urgent.

My contact’s film, “To Say Goodbye”, is  the story children who were evacuated from Bilbao in the time of Franco.  These children were then taken to England.  They were only meant to be in Britain for 12 weeks, but many have lived their entire life in exile.

The filmmakers plan to make an animation, using the recorded voices of the last surviving children.

Under the funding rules of a broker they are using, the filmmakers need to raise over 58,000 pounds within the next few hours.  Time will probably run out long before you read this.  By then, “To Say Goodbye” will probably say goodbye to the money that has been pledged so far.

Promoting the British War Effort

In his book, The History of the British Army Film & Photographic Unit in the Second World War, Dr Fred McGlade writes about the struggle to create films to get America involved in the war effort. It seems the Germans were spending a lot of money on movies, and the Brits were losing the propaganda war. Much of the footage we have of the Second World War today is because of a small group of dedicated men who filmed what was then current events. (See The British Photographic Unit in the Second World War.)

One of the first conflicts to be recorded on film was the conflict in Crimea. The invention of the photograph has changed history. We know much more about the American Civil War than most previous wars, as the number of photographs of that war tell us stories much quicker than words ever could.

The misuse of the Camera

Some war films and other “histories” have been pure propaganda.

I came across an old news report of a First World War battle being staged. The reporter witnessed the scene of a local baron, showing his prowess, through a kind of contemporary re-enactment. His forces were firing valiantly at a fictitious enemy.

Unfortunately for him, some real soldiers watched the events, didn’t know it was staged, and took up arms against the baron and his actors.  As they fled the real enemy, the reporter saw the Baron’s true character.

Telling the story of Armenia

Another story about World War I grabbed my attention. It was a book called “Ravished Armenia”

The book tells how Aurora Mardiganian escaped torture and massacre, and the horrors she went through.

Here Aurora tells of what she witnessed happening to another girl:

“And you, my little one,” [Hagdi Ghafour] said, just as low and soft.  And he repeated the questions to her he had spoken to her sister. She spoke softly, too – softer than had her sister, yet just as firmly. “She was my sister. With her I saw my mother die, and now you have taken her. I, too, have asked God to take me again to Him. You may kill me also, but I will never submit to you.”

After this, Hagdi Ghafour threatened to kill her as a warning to the others.  Three men with whips (called Bashi-Bazouks in the text) stood near.  They stripped the girl of her clothes and swung her “like a hammock.”

“Then, while we screamed with the horror of it, the third bashi-bazouk brought his whip down upon the swaying body.”

“I shut my eyes so I could not see, but I could not shut out the sound of the whip cutting into the flesh, again and again, until I lost count. Even when the girl screamed no more and her moans died away the whip did not stop for a long time. Then suddenly I realized the blows had ceased.  I looked and saw one of the bashi-bazouks lifting the girl’s body from the floor. He held her by the waist, and her arms and bleeding legs hung limp. She was dead.”

The author then spoke of seeing bodies on the side of the road, “I counted bodies laid at the roadside until I could count no longer! I wondered if God could make room for all of them in heaven.”

While Mardiganian escaped, time was running out for her fellow Armenians. The world needed to be convinced that Armenians deserved statehood, to prevent those tragedies from happening again.

The book was serialized in the Washington Times in 1917. But not all Americans read books and stories in the newspaper in the 1910s. The story had to be told on film as well, in order to reach a wider audience.

Aurora Dramatizes her own Story

In 1919, the Washington Times told the story of how this book became a film.

Aurora Mardiganian, still refered to as a girl, was no movie star. When she came to the ballroom of the Hotel Plaza, the “little waif” “hesistates at the door; a tear glistened in her eyes.”

According to an Washington Times, her mind didn’t hear the music of the orchestra and “bright lights of the New York Ballroom”, but rather the “darkness of the tents” and the rattle of the “drums which beat a call to summon an execution squad.”

She now had a new struggle.  The film had to be completed, to show the world, those who don’t read books, that Armenia was a nation worth saving.

A film was made, shot “just as Aurora remembered it.”

“Come down,” the director told her as one scene was to be shot, “just as you did at Geulick.”

Filled with memories, Aurora lept “to the balcony rail” and “threw her body over until her feet began to dangle over…” she lost her grip, bulky rugs folded around. She fell to the ground, and her foot bent under her and was crushed.

The Doctors attended Aurora, and gave her painkillers. Her ankle was fractured. Doctors orders included plenty of rest.

“But that will delay the making of my picture – and the committee wants it quickly, that they may let all America see it.” she protested.

She lept out of bed. “See” she cried “see, all is well already – it does not hurt at all – I can walk and do my picture all right now.”

At first, Aurora was carried.  They shot the scenes where “she could stand or sit still.” and not put weight on her fractured ankle.

The hurt seemed to heal, and Aurora denied that there was any more pain.  She re-enacted “wild” scenes of escape, of the enemy raiding the camps. “Aurora declared that her ankle was so well that she could do whatever was required of her.”

The picture was finished within the scheduled time frame. The last scene to be shot featured Aurora “on the deck of a steamship reaching her arms to the Statue of Liberty.” When this was shot, Aurora collapsed on that deck, moaning in pain.  Now that her work was done she could admit that it hurt.

The film could now be released, and the world would be convinced.

(Alas, it was not to be. Armenia did not gain a secure independence until the end of the Cold War.  And by then, it was much smaller than the homeland envisioned by Woodrow Wilson and others of the time.)

The Nanking Massacre

In 2009, Lu Chuan went to the small Welsh town of Lampeter to tell students about his film “City of Life and Death” which depicts events known as the Nanking massacre.

In his research for this project, Chuan visited libraries in China and Japan, finding documents which will probably still be there twenty years from now. As an ex-military man, Chuan also saw the benefit of interviewing Japanese veterans who were present at the massacre.

These men often welcomed Lu Chuan into their homes, offered him tea, but stood in an awkward silence. The interviews, from what I understood the translator say, appeared fruitless. Lu Chuan relied on his experience in the Chinese military to try and understand the way a soldier thinks. A Japanese soldier is just a soldier after all.

Not everyone agreed with Chuan’s version of the story. Despite Chuan’s past success and fame, and despite the fact that “City of Life and Death” included top Chinese talent and was very well done, it was rejected from some Chinese film festivals. The Japanese actors involved, according to Chuan, received death threats, and some had moved to China.

Chuan’s decision to tackle this topic seems to have cleared the way for other films about the Nanking massacre.

As history passes, old monuments wash away. There may not always be physical pain involved in talking about the past, there way not always be death threats and broken feet. However, there is another kind of pain that many filmmakers (and authors and lecturers) have to over come. There is the pain that is caused by the bad memories of the past.

When the story is worth telling, a storyteller must learn how to live with that pain it causes the storyteller until that story is told.

Writing hurts, research hurts, memory can hurt, and we should respect the right of others who remain silent about the past and chose not to go through that pain.  Some choose to cover it in fiction, others merely point the researcher in the direction of stories similar to their own.

I remember a child once telling me that “you never cry daddy.” Sometimes we need to hide the pain until our job is done.

Significant debates were held concerning constitutional change, including Catholic Emancipation, and changes to Parliament itself.

The war against Napoleon was expensive and some doubted whether it was essential to Britain’s security.

Luddite “Riots” perplexed the parliament. (I just discovered the Luddite Bicentennary, which shares some interesting primary sources.)

Election violence, and most of the political violence within England itself of the year seems to have been largely forgotten.

The Speech below shows that the Parliament was not ignorant of the problems that lay before them.

The Prince Regent’s Speech

Delivered by The Lords Commissioners To Both Houses of Parliament
On Tuesday, January 7, 1812

My Lords and Gentlemen,

We are commanded by his Royal Highness the Prince Regent[i], to express to you the deep sorrow which he feels in announcing to you the continuance of his Majesty’s lamented indisposition, and the unhappy disappointment of those hopes of his Majesty’s early recovery which had been cherished by the dutiful affection of his family and the loyal attachment of his people.

The Prince Regent has directed copies of the last reports of her Majesty the Queen’s council to be laid before you, and he is satisfied that you will adopt such measures as the present melancholy exigency may appear to require.

In securing a suitable and ample provision for the support of his Majesty’s Royal Dignity, and for the attendance upon his majesty’s sacred person during his illness, the Prince Regent rests assured, that you will also bear in mind the indispensable duty of continuing to preserve for his Majesty the facility of resuming the personal exercise of his Royal Authority in the happy event of his recovery so earnestly desired by the wishes and the prayers of his family and his subjects.

The Prince Regent directs us to signify to you the satisfaction with which his Royal Highness has observed, that the measures which have been pursued for the defence and security of the kingdom of Portugal have proved completely effectual, and that on the several occasions in which the British or Portuguese troops have been engaged with the enemy, the reputation already acquired by them has been fully maintained.[ii]

The successful and brilliant enterprises which terminated in the surprize in Spanish Estremadura of a French corps by a detachment of the allied army under Lieut. Gen. Hill, is highly creditable to that distinguished officer, and to the troops under his command, and has contributed materially to obstruct the designs of the enemy in that part of the Peninsula.[iii]

The Prince Regent is assured, that while you reflect with pride and satisfaction on the conduct of his Majesty’s troops, and of the Allies, in these various and important services, you will render justice to the consummate judgement and skill displayed by Gen. Lord Viscount Wellington[iv], in the direction of the campaign. In Spain the spirit of the people remains unsubdued; and the system of warfare[v] so peculiarly adapted to the actual condition of the Spanish nation, has been recently extended and improved, under the advantages which result from the operations of the allied armies on the frontier, and from the countenance and assistance of his Majesty’s navy on the coast.

Although the great exertions of the enemy have in some quarters been attended with success, his Royal Highness is persuaded, that you will admire the perseverance and gallantry manifested by the Spanish armies. Even in those provinces principally occupied by the French forces, new energy has arisen among the people; and the increase of the difficulty and danger has produces more connected efforts of general resistance. [vi]

The Prince Regent, in the name and on the behalf of his Majesty, commands us to express his confident hope that you will enable him to continue to afford the most effectual aid and assistance in the support of the contest which the brave nations of the Peninsula still maintain with such unabated zeal and resolution.

His Royal Highness command us to express his congratulations on the success of the British arms in the Island of Java.[vii]

The Prince Regent trusts that you will concur with his Royal Highness, in approving the wisdom and ability with which the enterprise, as well as the capture of the islands of Bourbon and the Mauritius, has been conducted under the immediate direction of the Governor General of India, and that you will applaud the decision, gallantry, and spirit conspicuously displayed in the late operations of the brave army under the command of that distinguished officer Lieut. General Sir Samuel Achmuty, so powerfully and ably supported by his Majesty’s naval forces. [viii]

By the completion of this system of operations, great additional security will have been given to the British commerce and possessions in the East Indies, and the colonial power of France will have been entirely extinguished.

His Royal Highness thinks it expedient to recommend to your attention the propriety of providing such measures for the future government of the British possessions in India, as shall appear from experience, and upon mature deliberation, to be calculated to secure their internal prosperity, and to derive from those flourishing dominions the utmost degree of advantage to the commerce and revenue of the United Kingdoms.[ix]

We are commanded by the Prince Regent to acquaint you, that while
his Royal Highness regrets that various important subjects of difference with the Government of the United States of America still remain unadjusted, the difficulties which the affair of the Chesapeake frigate had occasioned have been finally removed; and we are directed to assure you, that in the further progress of the discussions with the United States, the Prince Regent will continue to employ such means of conciliation as may be consistent with the honour and dignity of his Majesty’s crown, and with the due maintenance of the maritime and commercial rights and interests of the British empire. [x]

Gentlemen of the House of Commons,

His Royal Highness has directed the estimates for the service of the current year to be laid before you. He trusts that you will furnish him with such supplies, as may be necessary to enable him to continue the contest in which His Majesty is engaged, with that spirit and exertion which will afford the best prospect of its successful termination.[xi]

His Royal Highness commands us to recommend that you should resume the consideration of the state of the finances of Ireland, which you had commenced in the last Session of Parliament. He has the satisfaction to inform you, that the improved receipt of the revenue of Ireland in the last, as compared with the preceding year, confirms the belief that the depression which that revenue had experienced is to be attributed to accidental and temporary causes. [xii]

My Lords and Gentlemen,

The Prince Regent is satisfied that you entertain a just sense of the arduous duties which his Royal Highness has been called upon to fulfil, in consequence of his Majesty’s continued indisposition.

Under this severe calamity his Royal Highness derives the greatest consolation from his reliance on your experience wisdom, loyalty, and public spirit, to which in every difficulty he will resort, with a firm confidence that, through your assistance and support, he shall be enabled, under the blessings of Divine Providence, successfully to discharge the important functions of the high trust reposed in him, and in the name, and on the behalf of his beloved father, and revered sovereign, to maintain unimpaired the prosperity and honour of the nation.

Notes on Prince Regent’s Address:

• [i] The prince Regent, the Future George IV, took over the functions of the monarch during George III’s illness. These bouts of illness were later dramatised in “The Madness of King George,” although some killjoy historians doubt that real life was half that funny.
• [ii] The campaign in Portugal was later a topic of debate. Some doubted whether it was worth it, or if Portugal’s security contributed to that of the United Kingdom. Most of the famous generals were British, but the a large percentage of the lower troops were indeed Portuguese. It seems that in exchange for financial aid, the British got to chose the commanders. Other troops were mercenaries from Germany and from the British Empire and elsewhere. I’m not sure how many were volunteers, how many were mercenaries, and how many were impressed into fighting.
• [iii] The Peninsular Campaign in Spain is often confused with that in Portugal.  The politics were different, but at the time most politicians knew the difference between the two.
• [iv] later known as the Duke of Wellington or Generalissimo Wellington.
• [v] That is, guerilla warfare.
• [vi] There were some doubts as to whether this compliment was sincere, or whether it is used in order to drum up financial support for the war effort.
• [vii] Napoleon inherited Java when he took over the Batavian Republic (or the Netherlands). With Java, Britain took the last bastion of Napoleonic influence in “the Indian Seas.” Although this victory happened months before hand, it was recent news, and considered a very significant success at the time.
• [viii] These victories do not seem to figure as highly in concurrent histories and news reports.
• [ix] The British were under great anxiety that Napoleon wanted to cut off British territory in India. They even imagined it as being Napoleon’s motivation for the 1798 invasion of Egypt. Subsequent British representatives in Egypt and Malta were always suspicious that another French invasion was just around the corner.
• [x] The British anticipated the war of 1812 well ahead of time, this speech was given five years after the Chesapeake affair. The British wanted to pacify the Americans, but Parliament was too proud to admit they were wrong. British tradesmen petitioned parliament to remove the Orders in Council because they hurt British manufacturers and were politically useless.
• [xi] The King needed Parliament, especially the House of Commons, to approve the war budget.
• [xii] Public Catholic religious meetings, including prayer meetings, were being suppressed, and the Irish suffered from widespread poverty. Catholic emancipation was unpopular with this parliament and the Irish seemed to be disliked in general.

National audit Office, London, photographed by the author February 2011

The firm started in 1738, under the name of Thomas Miners. Then, in 1742 it became Miners and Boldero, as Charles Boldero entered the firm.  As the Boldero family’s influence in the firm increased, so did its fortunes.

So it was a huge surprise when, on January 2nd 1812, Boldero, Lusington, Boldero and co. stopped payments.

Boldero and co, as they were often called by the papers, was no insignificant local bank.  They owed one million pounds to investors in Irish annuities, and much more to bigger creditors.   They had strong connections to at least 13 smaller banks around the country, not including insurance firms, charitable trusts, and other organisations that depended on Boldero.   The firm had recently been one of the three top bidders to carry Britain’s national debt.

In the early 19th century, if you were buying stocks in Portsmouth’s water works, or investing in some other big public offering, Boldero, Lushington, Boldero and co. was probably your first stop.  They were literally on top of the list.

So why did the firm stop paying? Were there no safeguards?

Well, in late 1811, when funds ran short, Boldero and co. had apparently applied for assistance to the Bank of England (roughly the equivalent of the Fed) and were denied.

The Bankers

The Boldero name goes back to medeival England.  It seems to be a noble Saxon warrior name, which may have been latinized at the court of William the Conquerer.

The bank, while not that old, was one of the oldest in the city.  Charles Boldero took over in the early days from a partner, and then it seems a son in law of one of the Boldero’s, a Mr Lushington, later joined the firm and inherited some of Charles’ Boldero’s overseas real estate empire.

Edward Gale Boldero

The biggest personality in the Boldero and Lushington firm appeared to be Edward Gale Boldero. Edward Gale Boldero dined with royalty and war heros, held prayer meetings with the Prince of Wales, was involved at high levels in high profile charities, and led a lavish and well known lifestyle with mansions throughout England. Late into December 1811, advertisements ”Lying in Charity for Deliveing Poor Married Women at their Own Habitations” listed Edward Gale Boldero as a Vice President and the “Philanthropic Society” listed him as their treasurer.

In addition to the family bank and charities, Edward Gale Boldero had a stake in insurance firms, such as the Pelican Life Insurance Office.

However, when he was given a choice, this Boldero styled himself a goldsmith rather than a banker. And that’s the way he’s listed on many family trees.

Stephen Lushington Sr.

Stephen Lushington Senior was made full a partner in 1801, but had died years before the failure. He married into the Boldero family, and became an heir of the great Charles Boldero (his wife Hester’s father). Stephen Lushington Senior was an MP, and later made Baronet.

Two of Stephen Lushington Senior’s sons are well known to historians, Stephen Lushington Jr. was a lawyer and later an MP. As he was younger, he didn’t inherit the title of Baronet.

The oldest son, Henry, named after his vicar grandfather, was the one who ended up following his father into banking.

The Lushingtons and Bolderos owned plantations in the Carribean, but it appears that the Lushingtons had a greater influence in these. Many slaves on these plantations were given the Lushington surname.

The Money

Ok, so if there was no bail out, how did the banks creditors get paid?

The bank itself didn’t have the assets. That’ why it stopped payment.

So, the Committee in charge of paying off those who were owed money went after the bankers themselves.

The lease to a family Boldero mansion in central London was put to auction. Here are some excerpts from one of the advertisements:

A most substantial and excellent family mansion, [...]  a back drawing room 27 feet by 18 feet [ there were at least two of these, this was the smaller one ...] in central london.[...]
with numerous good bedchambers[...]
3 arched vaults, servants hall, butler’s room, housekeeper’s room, footman’s room [...]
temporary wine cellar, convenient detached light kitchen, scullery, pantry, back area, wash house, and large beer cellar; a lofty laundry, stabling for five horses, double coach house with coachman’s room and loft over [...]

Plantations as far away as the Caribbean were also confiscated and used to pay off creditors.

Also, the remainder of the lease on Edward Boldero’s personal London digs was advertised.

The Valuable Lease of the substantial Brick Dwelling-House and Premises, the residence of Edward Gale Boldero, Esq; most desirably and eligibly situate No. 10, Saville-row, Burlington Gardens; comprising four excellent attics, three spacious best bed chambers, with appropriate dressing room and closets, a suit[e] of lofty elegant drawing rooms connected by folding doors, windows down to the floor, and balconies in front, an excellent dining parlour, neat library, Gentleman’s dressing room, spacious paved entrance hall, two staircases, three well placed water closets, very convenient and well arranged domestic offices, laundry, and spacious paved yard. Term expired 27 1/2 years, at Midsummer next, at per annum only 160l.

But it didn’t end there. Many other properties were auctioned off.  Edward Gale Boldero lost his furniture, including his painting, books, chairs and his “fine toned piano forte with the additional keys.”

Limited liability, as we know it today, didn’t seem to be an option for the Bolderos or Lushingtons. “The bankrupts” were made to pay back every penny they owed.

Even their family property wasn’t safe.  Edward Gale Boldero had put some property in the name of his daughter, Sophia.  In order to try to get that property, his creditors claimed “the bankrupt” had known of his impending financial problems before the transaction took place. To keep her own property, Miss Boldero had to prove that she wasn’t sharing her means with “the bankrupt.”

And the employees and smaller banks?

Banks in Britain at the time were self regulating. This didn’t mean they could do what they liked, but that they took responsibility for their own industry.

They feared a possible “run” on the small country banks, as was depicted in the film “It’s a Wonderful Life” a century later. If all the creditors of connected banks tried to take out their cash at once, other banks could fail.

Smaller banks did not have enough cash at hand to pay off their creditors in the event of such a “run”. The money was usually invested elsewhere. (In fact, Boldero and Lushington’s problem seemed to start with cash flow problems related to a Northern Bank.)

In order to prevent a run on the smaller banks, the other large London Banks decided to organize their resources to ensure that lenders did not rush in and take all their money out at once.

Not all the banks were saved. Liverpool, Yorkshire and Lincolnshire were hit with similar failures.

Boldero’s creditors had pity on Boldero’s former employees. The now unemployed clerks were given the equivalent of their paycheck until they could find new work.

“The Assignees of Boldero and Co. have come to the generous determination of paying the clerks’ salaries up to Lady-Day, in consideration of their being so suddenly thrown out of employ; and we are further given to understand, the affairs of that house will turn out much better than was expected.”

They were under no obligation to do such a thing, it just seemed to be the right thing to do.

What happened to the bankers?

Edward Gale Boldero seems to have disappeared into history. Many family trees don’t even give a date of death.  However, the Boldero family tree shows a healthy group of English descendents who had great successes in many fields ( but not a lot of bankers.)

Henry Lushington Sr, second Bartonet.

Henry Lushington never grew into the notable abolishionist campaigner that his younger brother was. In fact, some years later his son, Henry Lushington Jr., seems to have been involved in a lawsuit related to getting back the Lushington plantations in Grenada and elsewhere, complete with hundreds of slaves.

The bankrupt banker, Henry Lushington Sr, was able to get another big job in 1817: he was made British consul to Naples, otherwise known as the Kingdom of two Sicilies.

There he hosted a few aspiring writers and grabbed a small place in literary history.

Effect on the economy

The strangest thing about this bank failure is that it seems to have had no real effect on the British economy as a whole. Unlike more recent bank failures, Boldero and Lushington was quickly forgotten.

Of much greater financial concern to ordinary Brits were the Orders in Council, which hurt trade with America, and the Luddite Riots in Northern England (which were in response to rapid technological changes that left many skilled workers unemployed).

The failure of Boldero, Lushington and co. did cause some “consternation throughout the city”, but the fair distribution of the failed bankers’ assets helped prevent a financial crisis.

Metropolitan Police logo on a police station in London.

But Mr. Skelton soon found he was a wanted man.  John Skelton was implicated in robbery and the murder of a policeman, with a reward on his head.

The motive?  Booty.  A black-watch ribbon, a watch-key of gold.  With a cornelian stone set in.  A silk purse.  And a hatred of the police.

These items were stolen from George Edmonston. But it didn’t stop there.  Mr Skelton was also accused of robbing Walter Robertson and William Jolly.

Mr. Jolly was a “student of divinity” who lost a green silk purse.  In that purse was a written recommendation, or what we might today call a letter of reference.  Dr. William Ritchie had written a letter to Professor Jamieson saying how swell Mr. Jolly was.

The third victim, Mr Walter Robertson, was a stone mason.  He lost a silk twist watch chain.

George Edmonston’s New Year’s story

George Edmonston’s story was perhaps the most harrowing.  George was walking in the neighbourhood, where his sister lived, when a gang of people started following him and pestering George for money.  They didn’t wait an answer.  Instead, George was knocked down, and “left on the stair, wet with blood.”

The rioting prevented anyone coming to Mr. Edmonston’s aid, and he was left to bleed to death.

Walter Robertson

In the neighborhood was Walter Robertson, a stoneware merchant. He and a friend had left at about midnight, and were walking past a blacksmith shop, by the old bridge.

A man, probably Mr Edmonton, fell to the ground between Mr Robertson and his friend.  Mr Robertson had hardly enough time to see what was happening when the man’s attackers threw Mr Robertson against a wall.

Mr. Robertson’s assailants were a group of forty or fifty “lads”, none of which looked over twenty.

At this point Mr. Robertson asked his attackers not to do any harm, and offered to buy them a drink.  He reached into his pocket to get some money, but they tore his coat and got to it first.  They took his pocket book, “containing 14 guinea notes and seventeen one pound notes and his watch chain.”

A stick was flung at Mr. Robertson, knocking off his hat.  This was soon lost into the crowd.  Mr. Robertson was able to slip away just as one of the “lads” swung the stick again, aiming directly for Mr. Robertson.

He was later able to identify his watch chain in court.

William Jolly’s encounter

William Jolly was out just after midnight when a group of “about three dozen” approached, “demanding a shilling drink to his health.”  Sadly, Mr. Jolly, the student, had no money.

On hearing this, two of the larger lads held Mr. Jolly’s arms, while a small one searched through his pockets.

Several lads shouted indirect threats like “knock ‘im down”, but there were objections, for he was a “country lad.”

To convince his attackers that he ideed had no money, Mr Jolly took out a small green silk purse and shook it.  One of his tormentors immediately snatched the purse.  They struck him twice, but Mr Jolly claimed that he didn’t fall “farther than his knees.”

Mr Skelton’s Story

John Skelton was apprenticed to Mr James Innes, a gunsmith.  According to Mr. Innes, Mr Skelton “was with me for nearly three years, and down to the 31st December last, he was a remarkably honest and well behaved lad.”

Mr. Skelton’s behavior led to his employer’s confidence in him. “he paid and collected my accounts.  I never found him wrong in a farthing; never missed him when I wanted him; never saw him in liquor; in short, he was a quiet, remarkable for good conduct and of perfect integrity, so far as I know or saw.”

Another witness said he saw John Skelton join a group of his fellow apprentices on New Year’s eve.  Some of these apprentices had sticks, and were speaking of “gentleman’s hats.”  According to the witness ( who was part of the gang), they acquired these sticks by climbing a tree and pulling off the branches.

This witness said he saw Mr. Skelton climb up the tree…

(to be continued…)