Plantation Economy

The plantation economy

Land in the Caribbean islands was cheap, but the costs of setting up a sugar plantation were high. Sir Dalby Thomas in 1690 estimated that a 100 acre plantation on the island of Barbados, with 50 enslaved Africans, seven white indentured servants, sugar mill, boiling works, equipment and livestock would cost £5,625 (over £250,000 at today’s values).

To recover these costs, the plantations had to produce enough good quality sugar to pay off debts and mortgages and cover the running costs each year. The owners also wanted a profit. Some families, such as the Pinneys of Nevis in the Caribbean and Bristol, were able to build up a fortune based on land, sugar producing and trading.

Slaves from Africa were the basis of these sugar fortunes. John Pinney, a plantation owner on the island of Nevis, wrote in the 1760s to his managers ‘� a word respecting the care of my slaves and stock [animals] – your own good sense must tell you they are the sinews of a Plantation and must claim your particular care and attention�. He also wrote that �� it is impossible for a Man to make sugar without the assistance of Negroes as to make bricks without straw’.

Treatment of Slaves

Enslaved Africans required a period of ‘seasoning’ to get them used to the work and the country. One in three of the newly imported slaves died within three years, and planters needed a continuous supply of new slaves.

Before the 1760s, plantation life was particularly brutal. For although treatment did vary, it generally worked out cheaper for owners to work slaves to death and import new ones, rather than to look after those already on the plantations. John Newton was once a slave ship captain and later campaigned against the slave trade. He was told in 1751 by a plantation owner on the Caribbean island of Antigua, that the costs had been calculated and it was cheaper to work slaves to death and replace them than to treat them well. On some estates in Antigua, it was rare for a slave to live longer than nine years.

It was not just work that was hard for the enslaved Africans. The white population on the islands was outnumbered by the black population, and they were frightened of rebellion . Therefore, punishment for any breaking of the rules was harsh. Rebellion was usually punished by death, often by a slow and painful method, to deter any others who thought of rising up against their owners.

The Session Book of the Parish of St Thomas in the East, Jamaica, for 1783, records the punishment handed out to a slave who tried to run away. It reads: “Priscilla: for running away, both her ears cut off … immediately, to receive 39 lashes the first Monday in each month for one year and to be worked in irons during this time”.

 It was a hard punishment for trying to be free. Flogging was commonplace, and slaves could be made to torture members of their own family if the owner or overseer so wished. Harsh laws were aimed at punishing any act of rebellion and discouraging others. In 1707, a law was passed on the island of Barbados, which said a runaway slave absent for more than 30 days should have one of his or her feet cut off when recaptured.

As a result of anti-slavery feeling in the late eighteenth century, and the rising price of African slaves, the more ‘progressive’ plantation owners saw the wisdom of treating their slaves better.

Richardson: notes and research ref from JR

Dec 10, 2019
 
Hi J R,
How interesting to hear of your friends connection to the Lawrence family. Randi’s branch moved to Quebec in 1795 where they farmed for several generations. One of them (Randi’s ancestor) then moved west to northern Alberta (Fort Vermillion) in the 1880s where he/they created an experimental ranch for the federal government, researching viable crops, planting seasons, etc. Most of the family remains in Alberta.
 
The genealogical info is much appreciated. I’m very interested in learning more about the Richardson’s of Yorkshire. We drove through the little village of Great Ayton near Whitby and spent two hours in Whitby. Both places were home to your gang as you probably know. They had a tannery and ship yard. Seems building boats is in the blood. Edward Richardson (1806-1863) had the tannery. His son John Wigham Richardson (1837-1908) owned a very successful shipyard in Whitby which he imaginatively named The Wigham Richardson Shipbuilding Company. In a bid to secure a lucrative contract the company merged with Swan and Hunter to become Swan Hunter and Wigham Richardson (Did this company build the Swan and Hunter series of sailing yachts?). The lucrative contract was to build the RMS Mauretania on behalf of Cunard. They got the contract and built the Mauretania (holder of the trans-atlantic speed record) along with a number of the greatest ships of the early twentieth century, including the RMS Carpathia, famous for rescuing survivors of the RMS Titantic. Wigham was your first cousin once removed of the husband of your great aunt. In my world that makes him your brother — almost…an elderly brother. All in all that’s an impressive pedigree you have Mr. Richardson. Remind me to solicit your autograph when next we meet.
 
Great Ayton was also the childhood home of Captain James Cook. Do you suppose your rellies went to school with him? Such an unfortunate name, Cook.
 
There is a family connection of sorts to Cook.  One Thomas Milner owned the collier Earl of Pembroke. Thomas was the 2nd great-grandfather of the  husband of the sister-in-law of the nephew of the husband of my 3rd great-aunt. Very close indeed. Imagine how close he is to you! (I checked. He’s your 2nd great-grandfather of the husband of the sister-in-law of the nephew of the husband of your 3rd great-aunt. Ah well, he’s blood). Anyway, the British Admiralty bought the ship from Thomas at the recommendation (I believe) of Cook and renamed it the Endeavour. Cook had apprenticed on colliers on the run from Whitby to London . He thought their specifications (shallow draft, high cargo capacity) would be ideal for charting coastlines, getting off if run aground and beaching for repairs and maintenance. The Endeavour did in fact prove able, to wit: her shallow draft allowed her to slip off a reef on the coast of Australia. The Endeavour was built by Thomas Fisher, probably a relative of ours as the Fisher family is prominent among our Quaker ancestors.
 
Peter
 
From Dec 9 2018
JR: Interesting to hear about your genealogical research; it can be fascinating.  The mother of my good college friend, Bill McCue, was a direct descendant of those Lawrence industrialists, and I remember her well.
 
I haven’t received the invite to that family tree that you mention, don’t know why.  I’d be glad to see.
 
As it happens, I recently stumbled across other detailed genealogical data assembled by a very distant English cousin, you may be interested to peruse: http://benbeck.co.uk/fh/fh.htm  His specific information re James Alaric R is here: http://benbeck.co.uk/fh/collaterals/second%20cousins/4O204cousins.html  Scroll about half way down.

Richardson Ships

Dec 11, 2018
Peter,
 
Fascinating to read your comments on Cook’s Endeavor, which I suspect would have been fitted out with leather-related rigging by the Richardson Leatherworks located in Whitby at the same time.  Not only that, but my non-blood ancestor Jeremiah Dixon (via my g-grandmother Augusta Ann Dixon Richardson) hitched a ride with Cook for one of his incredible efforts to observe the Transit of Venus.  Lots to be found on all that on the internet, these days.
 
Jeremiah has even become somewhat of a celeb, thanks to my favorite rocker, Mark Knopfler, see: https://youtu.be/HaQS45-YFdE
 
Your Wiki info re the size of the SHWR shipyard is astonishing but perhaps not surprising… in approx 1964, I visited the SHWR “works” in Sunderland, with my father.  It was… no small operation!!!
 
One or more very large ships were under construction… but what I remember most vividly was the enormous size of a marine engine (steam; triple expansion?) being assembled inside a cavernous shipyard building.  Seemed to be easily 50′ tall, larger than a large house.  
 
I’m boggled to think what nerve it took to scale-up existing engineering, metalworking, and steam technologies to create such large structures successfully, in the heyday of the late-industrial-revolution.  Not to mention… to obtain the capital to finance the bold enterprise.  Wigham must have been a genius with bankers in the early days, and he must have had cast iron nerves.
 
All that said, I don’t believe SHWR had anything to do with Swan yachts or Hunter yachts.
 
Charlotte Karney Yalouris, a direct descendent of WR via her mother Celia Richardson, now lives in Cambridge MA… and we’re pretty close, which is nice.  My genealogical connection to that branch of the family is quite slender, however.
 
J R
(Personal deleted)

Sir Ernest’s Tea

A conversation with my grand uh…

If you were granted an hour with the ancestor of your choice, who would you choose? For me, it’s a tough call, but Ernest would be right up there in the top three. I’m speaking of Sir Ernest Shackleton, Antarctic explorer of the early 1900s. He was a legendary figure, famous for his courage and leadership in rescuing his crew from shipwreck and certain death.

Yes, I’m proud to say that Ernie and I are close relatives. He is the grand nephew of the husband of my 2nd cousin four times removed (honest, it’s true). He often speaks of me (I’m certain). I’m expecting a letter from him any day. Still lost in the post, I suppose.

No matter. I arranged to meet him in the flesh in the reading room of the Royal Geographic Society, London at twelve noon sharp, August 4, 2013. Sir Ernest is a stickler for punctuality. I get there early. The reading room’s grandfather clock chimes out the hour. I’ve got goose bumps….ah, here he is now….

“Sir Ernest. Peter Bruce, your grand nephew and so on. What a great honour this is. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Well, quite honestly, I had nothing better to do. This ‘being dead’ business gets frightfully boring, I’m afraid.”
“I see. Remind me, then, not to rush into it.”
“Shall I arrange for tea, Mr. Bruce?”
“Please, call me Peter. And yes, thank you. Just black.”
“Right. Back in a moment.”

Fifty-five minutes pass before Sir Ernest returns empty-handed.
“I’m awfully sorry for the wait, old chap. I’ve had a dreadful time. When I reached what used to be the dining hall, it was gone. Sealed up as though it had never existed.

I inquired with the maitre d’ as to its new location and was informed there was no dining hall, that it had been leased to the Salvation Army as a meal station for the homeless. Cost-cutting measure, he said. Tea could be obtained at the…what did he call them?…dispensing machines in the basement. Dispensing machines? What the devil are those?”

“Its a different world, Sir Ernest.”

“At any rate, in the manner of explorers I persevered and started to make my way to the basement. On the way I inquired with a young lady as to the location of these machines and she offered to take me to them.

“Very kind.”

“Yes, but I wish she hadn’t. Because it was then that I noticed a most extraordinary thing. Her legs, if I may be so frank, were completely exposed from her …well, you know…right here.

I was, to put it mildly, non-plussed. There she was, in full view of anybody who cared to look her way, half naked! Just a bit of cloth about her middle, the rest, well, exposed flesh as it were.”

“Sir Ernest. That’s how women dress these days.” I don’t think he heard me.

The curious thing was she seemed to have no inkling of her predicament, poor soul. Of course I promptly removed my jacket and attempted to wrap it about her mid-section, believing I was doing the gentlemanly thing and that she had somehow lost her bottom half without knowing it. She pushed me away, called me a “bloody pervert” and ran off yelling SECURITY, SECURITY.

A minute later two large men looking for all the world like bobbies, grab me, yell “AGAINST THE WALL NOW”, then run their hands all over my body. I briefly considered yelling ‘pervert’ myself, then thought the better of it.

Naturally I remonstrated, and told them my name, thinking they would quickly come to their senses, feel stupid and apologize. Not so, I’m afraid. One of them replied that he was King Ferdinand of Spain and that henceforth, I was to address him as ‘Your Highness.’ The impudence.

“Oh gosh. What happened next?” I didn’t really want to know, but I felt compelled to ask. Sir Ernest needed to vent.

“Well, they strong-armed me to a back room. The maitre d’ joined us and there, they proceeded to grill me as to my identity and purpose here. I repeatedly told them who I was but they simply didn’t believe me. I told them my grand nephew and so on was waiting in the reading room and that you would vouch for me. So here we are.”

Standing before me were the maitre d’, the two security men and a rather confused, distraught Sir Ernest in the firm grasp of his captors. Being marooned on Elephant Island must have looked rather appealing to Sir Ernest just then.

I of course provided the required vouchsafe. And when I picked myself up off the sidewalk and turned to check on Sir Ernest, he was gone. I looked at my watch. One minute past one. The hour was up.

Bon voyage, Sir Ernest. The tea was a trifle weak but your company was grand.

 

Slideshow

For a brief overview of Sir Ernest please see the slideshow below. To see it in full screen, click the play button then click the small square in the bottom right hand corner of the slideshow.  Return to this page by pressing ‘Escape’ on your keyboard.

Haddon Hall Clarification

I’ve been asked to clarify which side of the family is related to the Haddon Hall folks. The answer  is Spriggs, my mother’s side. Lady Ursula Fisher Webb was her first cousin. Through her we are related to the Fishers. And the Fishers had a habit of marrying ‘well.’ About 1510 William Fisher married Mary Vernon of Haddon Hall, a very influential family of the day. Her father, our 14th grandfather, was Sir Henry Vernon, Chief Council of the Prince of Wales, Arthur Tudor.

[Aside:

Arthur Tudor (19/20 September 1486 – 2 April 1502) was Prince of Wales, Earl of Chester and Duke of Cornwall. As the eldest son and heir apparent of Henry VII of England, Arthur was viewed by contemporaries as the great hope of the newly established House of Tudor. His mother, Elizabeth of York, was the daughter of Edward IV, and his birth cemented the union between the House of Tudor and the House of York.

Plans for Arthur’s marriage began before his third birthday; he was installed as Prince of Wales two years later. At the age of eleven, he was formally betrothed to Catherine of Aragon, a daughter of the powerful Catholic Monarchs in Spain, in an effort to forge an Anglo-Spanish alliance against France. Arthur was well educated and, contrary to some modern belief, was in good health for the majority of his life. Soon after his marriage to Catherine in 1501, the couple took up residence at Ludlow Castle in Shropshire, where Arthur died six months later of an unknown ailment. Catherine would later firmly state that the marriage had not been consummated.

One year after Arthur’s death, Henry VII renewed his efforts of sealing a marital alliance with Spain by arranging for Catherine to marry Arthur’s younger brother Henry, who had by then become Prince of Wales. Arthur’s untimely death paved the way for Henry’s accession as Henry VIII in 1509. The potential for a question as to the consummation of Arthur and Catherine’s marriage, was much later (and in a completely different political context) exploited by Henry and his court to cast doubt on the validity of Catherine’s union with Henry, eventually leading to the separation between the Church of England and the Roman Catholic Church. Source: Wikipedia]

Thus, another connection to Ludlow Castle (see pix I sent) first built under the auspices of an earlier ancestor, Sir William FitzOsbern, trusted lieutenant to William the Conqueror (see previous notes).

In the tombs at St Bartholomew’s Church, Tong (the family church owned by the Vernon family at the time) lie Sir Henry Vernon’s parents William Vernon III, wife Margaret Swynfen, Sir Richard Vernon VIII (Mary’s brother) and wife Lady Ann Talbot and a monument to Sir Thomas Stanley, husband of Mary’s sister Margaret. Ann Talbot was Lady-In-Waiting to Queen Jane Seymour. Google will reveal much more about this lot.

Such an intriguing time period. Randi’s family chimes in here too. Her first cousin 13 times removed was Sir Francis Bacon, whose family including Sir Francis himself (until his falling out), were highly influential in the politics of the day.

John. Please correct me if I’m wrong on any of this. Bill. Would you pass this on to David Flavell please.

Hope that helps, Peter

Fascinating, Peter.
I knew Ursula and John quite well. They stayed with us in Baie d’urfé more than once,(as did Laura). And Kåre, Hilary Louise and I spent a few days with ,them at their place in Blockley on our way home from a year in Norway.
John invited us to visit him in His place at All Souls in Oxford, where his title was a “Special Fellow”.
You have certainly had a marvellous trip, and this has been an excellent education to us all. Thank you both so much for passing on this information.
Lots of love,
Hilary

Peter I have no line of Fishers earlier than Reuben Fisher, surgeon of Southwark in the late 1600s. From that branch emerged the Quakers of Youghal, Cork, and Limerick in Ireland. Your statement that the Fishers married well is appropriate as Gabriel Fisher married Mary O’Callaghan a couple of generations later.
On another vein, I wonder if you were aware when you visited St Paul’s in London that you were in the stomping grounds of the first William Spriggs to live in London. The Parish of Nicholas Cole Abbey is just down from the cathedral as is Fish Street where he lived for a time. Any trace of the old houses in that area were wiped out in the blitz if not before.
Once a family connection is made to landed gentry it is much easier to trace the line earlier as those of importance kept good track of family to ensure that people knew who they were and what were the important family connections.
Ciao,
John

Hi John,

I went back to Reuben (1669-1723) on my tree to see how I linked to earlier Reuben Fisher Sr and beyond. No baptism records or proof of lineage so I must conclude I found the line on another’s tree. However, things seem to fit together. I’ll send you the link to the tree. Cheers, Peter

Chocolate

Bournville, near Birmingham, England

Three families of Quakers, for reasons not known to me, began manufacturing chocolate — the Rowntrees of Yorkshire (1862), the Cadbury’s of Birmingham (1824) and the Fry’s of Bristol (1759). All did exceedingly well and all three families were heavily engaged in philanthropy and social action. As well, members of all three families intermarried with members of my family, the Spriggs and Haywards, who also lived in and operated businesses in Birmingham. I have chosen to tell the Cadbury’s story here in order to relate an extraordinary act of philanthropy.

It was there in Birmingham, in 1824, that John Cadbury began selling tea, coffee and drinking chocolate. Early customers were limited to the wealthy because production costs were high. In 1861 John’s sons Richard and George assumed control of the business and by 1866 it had become evident to them that chocolate was the key to success. When they dropped tea and coffee to focus exclusively on chocolate, and upped the quality of the cocoa bean, the business took off. The rest of the Cadbury story, at least the business side of it, is largely about the ups and downs of the many products they brought to market and about the marketing efforts by which they did so.

However, there is another story here, the story of Bournville. Over time, the Cadbury business grew, requiring two moves to larger premises. By 1878, when a third move was required, George posed a question to brother Richard, which might have gone something like this:

“Would you not agree Richard, that the success of Cadbury’s, apart from our own brilliance…” George grins, “is due almost wholly to the loyalty and dedication of our workers? Now you and I know too well the conditions under which our workers live. We have volunteered in their neighbourhoods, talked with their families, witnessed the rampant ill health and frankly, squalid conditions which they have no option but to tolerate. You and I leave the factory each night, retiring to our large, comfortable homes on the edge of the city where we enjoy every possible luxury. We owe them more Richard. A great deal more.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I’ve come up with with a rather grand idea — something which I don’t believe has ever been done.

We must move to larger quarters and we must do it soon. However, we are not obliged to remain within Birmingham. Agreed? What if we were to take this once in a lifetime opportunity to do something outstanding for our workers, that is, build not just a new factory, but an entire village in the country to house our workers, provide them with health care, nice shops, good schools, fresh air, clean streets and places to walk about and socialize. Would that not be the perfect way to say “thank you” Richard?

“It would indeed brother. And that is precisely what we shall do. It is brilliant. You are brilliant. Come, Priscilla just rang the bell. Teas on. Let us celebrate the new and improved Cadbury’s and show the world how things ought to be done.” That is precisely what they did do. In the countryside just beyond Birmingham’s outer limits, the Cadbury’s purchased land for the new factory and began construction. Later, in 1893, George Cadbury purchased 120 additional acres for workers’ housing. On that land, he built 143 cottages. The cottages were clustered in pods of 3 or 4 and the pods were set back from tree-lined streets. Each cottage had a front and back garden, fruit trees and space to grow vegetables.

A cottage had three bedrooms, a parlour, living room, kitchen and good sanitation. The rooms were large and airy with plenty of light. One tenth of the estate was put aside for parks, recreation grounds and open space. They called the village Bournville. Housing reform became a passion for George Cadbury. He joined the Garden City Movement begun by housing reformer Sir Ebenezer Howard, and was instrumental in the movement’s success.

Above Top Row: Bournville near Birmingham, built for Cadbury’s workers

Above Bottom Row: Cadbury’s advertising, late 1800s

John Cadbury (1801-1889) Founder, Cadbury’s Chocolate

Relation: paternal grandfather of wife of brother-in-law of great-aunt

Link to Haddon Hall

The Connection to Haddon Hall

Peter is asked to explain the connection to Haddon Hall   Have a seat. This is complicated and my tree is a mess of contradictions here which I need to clear up. However, here is how I think it goes….
You and I share great grandparents — William Hayward and Elizabeth (nee) Alexander. Elizabeth’s father was Samuel Alexander (1818-1907). Samuel married Isabella Fisher (1821-1901). The Fishers and the Alexanders seemed to hit it off for Samuel Alexander’s father also married a Fisher. But that’s another story.
We’re interested in the Fisher line here because they lead us to Haddon Hall. Isabella Fisher’s father was Benjamin Fisher (1781-1863). He married Mary Unthank (1783-1855). Now here is an interesting kink: Mary Unthank’s mother was Deborah Richardson (1756-1848). Deborah is our fourth great grandmother and is no doubt related to your father’s Richardsons.

Anyway, we back up to Benjamin Fisher (Deborah’s son), then follow the Fishers back to 1500 when William Fisher (1479-1519) married Mary Vernon (1488-1536). And that’s the connection to Haddon Hall which was owned by the Vernons. William and Mary were our 13th great grand-parents.

As an aside, their son Thomas Fisher (1510-1556) married Elizabeth Brocket (1522-?). The Brockets were a wealthy and influential family in the day and entertained blue bloods including the Queen routinely and the hall was infamous for its racy affairs (Google ‘Brocket Hall. It’s a bed and breakfast for the rich. You’re welcome to spend the night if you don’t mind dropping a grand).
Well, there you have it. A snippet anyway. There are stories galore tucked away in this tree (in every tree!).
Love, Peter
May 14, 2019

Hi again Peter,

Thanks for the note.
Regarding the Richardson connection.  It is reasonably common name and they could well be connected.  My problem is how does one get from Deborah’s Grandfather, William Richardson, who married Sarah Weston in Limerick in 1719 to the large clan of Richardson’s in the Newcastle area?
Regarding Benjamin Clarke Fisher, I have traced him back to Reuben Fisher,  of Southwark and his wife Joan Howe in the mid 1600s and no further.  The Kinsalebeg history(Google) mentions that the London area Fisher’s extended family included Sir Edward Of Mickleton & London, Sir Thomas of Islington and Sir Clement MP(1661-1669) and a 2nd Baronet.  Clement married (1662) royalist heroine Jane Lane who helped Charles II escape to France.
 Now the connection to Haddon Hall?
All grist for the Ancestry mill.
Regards to all and especially Lucy and James.  Hope you are all well
John

Hey John,

Re. “how does one get from Deborah’s Grandfather, William Richardson, who married Sarah Weston in Limerick in 1719 to the large clan of Richardson’s in the Newcastle area?” Well I expect they took a boat. Horse-drawn coach across the breadth of England would not be for the faint of heart. Just kidding. I have no idea, I just put it out there as a possibility. As for the Fishers, I go as follows:
Reuben F — Joan Howe
Thomas F (1617) — Mary Price (1621)
Sir Edward Fisher (1587-1654) — Lady Mary Maria Challoner (1590-1642)
Edward Fisher (1562-1628) — Avice Thornhill (1560-1604)
Thomas Richard Fisher (1533-1584) — Anne Brand 1537-)
Thomas Fisher (1510-1556) — Elizabeth Brocket (1522-)
William Fisher (1479-1519) — Mary Vernon (1488-1536) Married 1500
Randall Fisher (1455-) — Elizabeth (here the Fisher trail stops)
Mary Vernon was a co-heiress of Haddon Hall along with her sisters Anne and Dorothy. Dorothy Vernon was the subject of romantic legend (google Dorothy Vernon Haddon Hall). She eloped with a handsome John Manners after her father refused to allow the marriage. Why is unclear. John’s prospects were reasonable. His family had their own castle up the road. His descendent, the current Earl of Rutland, still owns Haddon Hall and his brother lives there. While at Haddon, my concerted attempts to “knock him up” came to naught. Thought we might have a little cousin to cousin chit-chat, but no. Probably busy in the village collecting rents from destitute widows. Or perhaps he was down at the Purple Pear quaffing a pint while the Ferrari got an oil change. In any case, the poor chap missed the chance to make the Canadian Connection. He’ll never know how close he came. Probably best.
Sir Edward Fisher of Mickleton is our man (9th great grandfather). Can’t find the others. Sir Edward and Avice Thornhill had a daughter Francesse. Francesse married Rev Thomas Rose (1619-1692). The Roses, Fishers and Thornhills all lived in Mickleton, a tiny village on the north edge of the Cotswolds and importantly, within striking distance of London. Thomas and Francesse had 11 children, nine of them boys. Oh my. Four of the boys as adults went into business together, capitalizing on their respective skills. Fulke Rose was a medical doctor, John was a merchant sea captain, William was an apothecary and astute money manager, and one or two of the other brothers pitched in where needed.  What played out was a lucrative arrangement. In the 1670s Fulke ran a very profitable medical practice in Jamaica catering to wealthy plantation owners. He also bought a plantation and called on two of his brothers to help manage it. Captain John Rose transported criminals and political prisoners to Jamaica to work off their ten year sentences on the plantations, notably his brother’s. And of course, John got paid for his efforts by the British government. Fulke and Co. got free labour and on the return trip to England, John filled the holds of his two ships with Rose sugar. William managed the proceeds. All in all, it was a shrewd variation of the triangular slave trade.
William has his own claim to fame. Apothecaries in those days routinely treated the ill and injured who lacked the funds to visit a surgeon. He was unable, however, to cure one of his patients of what was likely a sexually transmitted disease. He billed the man steeply for his efforts and the man complained to the College of Surgeons. They took William to court on the grounds that apothecaries were not licensed to practice as medical doctors. He lost but won on appeal, arguing that the poor had no option but to seek the help of apothecaries, as they could not afford a doctor’s fee. Apothecaries, therefore, were carrying out a service essential to the well-being of the community. Apothecaries, as a result of that court case, became the general practitioners of today. The William Rose Prize is given annually to a student who contributes significantly to the history of medicine. William is our 1st cousin 9x removed.
Very interesting to hear about Sir Clement, Jane Lane and the connection to Charles II. I’ll explore that. Thanks for the info John. What fun this is. Hope I didn’t beat you to death with all this. Big hugs, Peter

England – Tales of a Time Traveler

In 2018, my wife Randi and I made a trip to England. We stayed for three weeks and covered the country from top to bottom, renting a car to get about. As I relate our travel experience, I also step back in time to visit our ancestors. It was grand.

England: Tales of a Time Traveller

Introduction

Part 1 The Northeast

Part 2 The Northwest

Part 3 The Midlands

Part 4 The South

Part 5 London

Part 6 London

Steam Train

The World’s First Public Railway

In 1952, when I was five, my grandparents gave us tickets to take the CPR to Baie d’Urfé near Montreal to spend the summer with them and our eastern cousins. For a little boy, it was a magical trip. It took six days for the crossing. Black porters (and they were all black, an early version of reverse discrimination, I suppose), dressed sharply in all white uniforms, helped us to embark and debark at stations along the way. They were the kindest, most courteous of souls. We had our own stateroom and each late afternoon at precisely the same time, our dedicated porter came by to turn down the berths. The dining car had white linen table cloths, flourished white napkins and silver place settings embossed with the CPR logo.

When we neared the Rockies something unforgettable happened. Our diesel engine was switched out for a steam locomotive. Steam locos have a smell about them that once experienced is never forgotten. At the rear of the steam train was an open car — a regular lounge car with no windows, where one, in theory, could spend an afternoon reading, looking out and breathing in the fresh mountain air. No. That did not happen. I couldn’t read but more to the point, the car was beset with smoke and soot from the loco. It filleds my hair and lungs and covered my face in soot. About seven minutes was all a human being could take. Still, a nice idea.

I then imagined September 27, 1825. It was opening day for the Stockton and Darlington Railway (S&DR), a day for the history books, for it was the world’s first public railway to use steam locomotives. It was a business venture. The objective was to make money by moving coal from the collieries of County Durham (North Yorkshire) to ports on the east coast. There, colliers, coal carrying sailing ships, transported the coal to market, notably to London.

The public had been invited to go for a ride. Seating for 300 had been installed in a dozen coal waggons. Six hundred turned up, stuffing the seated wagons, England: Tales of a Time Traveler Part 1 1.43 additional empty wagons and the wagons filled with coal. They were off. A man on horseback waving a flag led the way. Smoke and steam belched from Locomotive No.1 and on the gentle downslope, the remarkable speed of 12 miles per hour was reached.

Men on horseback galloping alongside could not keep up and fell away. Then something else fell away — a wheel on the wagon carrying the surveyors and engineers. The wagon was promptly removed and off they went again. Then repairs on the locomotive were required, a 35 minute stop. In two hours, travelling at an average speed of 8 mph, the train reached the Darlington Junction where ten thousand people were waiting to greet them. That evening, 102 people gathered at the Town Hall to celebrate the extraordinary achievement.

Quaker Edward Pease (1767-1858) was the major promoter of the railway. He issued shares promising a five percent return on investment. Two-thirds of the shares were sold locally and the remaining shares were purchased by Quakers across England.

Getting to opening day had been a challenge, to say the least. Building the railway required the consent of Parliament. A private bill was presented but failed, as the proposed route passed through the Earl of Eldon’s estate and one of the Earl of Darlington’s fox coverts. A new route was proposed which satisfied the earls, but not Viscount Barrington whose estate the alternate route transgressed.

The challenges continued but one by one were surmounted by Pease who drove the project forward. The S&DR received Royal Assent on 19 April 1821. The terms: anyone could use the railway with their own suitably built vehicles on payment of a toll; the line must be closed at night and land owners within five miles of the line could build branches and make junctions. The S&DR became known as “the Quaker line” and Edward Pease, in some circles, was referred to as the ‘father of railways.’ This really was the beginning of the Age of Railways in Britain. More railways built by others followed; new industries were born in iron and steel and locomotive manufacturing, and railway mapping and industries which depended on the efficient transportation of their goods, flourished.

In the National Railway Museum in York is the exquisite steam engine Rocket designed by George Stephenson in 1829. Stephenson was Pease’s engineer partner and the technical genius behind the S&DR project. The Rocket was the second generation of steam train locomotives. It brought together several innovations which made it the most advanced locomotive of its time and served as the template for locomotive manufacturing for the next 150 years.

Stephenson’s ‘Rocket’, an improved version of Locomotive No. 1, Stockton & Darlington Railway, 1825

Volunteers carry out all operations of the Whitby to Pickering Steam Train, 1830s

Sir Edward Pease (1767-1858)

Woolens manufacturer, entrepreneur. Raised the capital, promoted and developed the S&DR, the world’s first public railway

Relation: 2nd cousin 2x removed of husband of my great-aunt

Hodd Cookbook

Reply from Keja Valens:

 
Dear Peter, Thank you so much for asking around! If you or any of the others are interested, you can see a digital copy of the (second) 1910 or 1911 edition here http://digitalcollections.smu.edu/cdm/singleitem/collection/lat/id/154/rec/1 I have heard that a few copies of the first edition are still in Trinidad, perhaps even at the Historical Society or a library and if I am able to travel there and see one, I’ll send you scans of anything special in it. I’m researching Caribbean cookbooks from the 19th through the 21st centuries as part of a book that I’m writing on the role that cookbooks, and the women who write them, play in forming local and national cultures. At the moment, I’m working on a chapter on West Indian cookbooks of the early 20th century, to which B.H. (Hodd) Lickfold’s belongs. One of the fascinating things about these cookbooks how they show the tight-knit communities of women in the West Indies who record their recipes. Your research and family stories confirm and add to what I’ve been finding. I’ll be sure to let you know if I find anything more related to your family. Best, Keja
 
My reply to Keja:
 

Hi Keja, Many thanks for your fascinating, informative note. I will pass it on to family and place it in the family tree. Thank you. I find your tack here particularly interesting as a way to access the voices of women who have regrettably been so comprehensively absent from human history. What stories might the women of our families have told of times demanding courage, forbearance and an iron will, stories we are left to imagine. Thank you again for this and for your efforts. Peter

Spriggs Will WWI

Hi Peter,
A few observances on Part III
The aircraft:
    The FK8 AW160 had double Lewis machine guns for the observer and a Vickers rigid mounted machine gun for the pilot.
    The pilot did all the photography and the observer was to make sure the pilot could do his job and keep Hun aircraft at bay.  If any strafing was to     be done it would have been by the pilot.
The mission:
    Dad’s log book show him on “Line Patrol and going to a new airdrome at Malincourt” on the 17th of October.  Later that day his log book shows
    him on “Counter Attack” so I would think the mission was an afternoon sortie.  The first Sortie was for two hours and the second was two and a
    quarter hours.  From Dad’s description in his letter to Arthur Wright, his aircraft was the only one on the mission.
Dad’s Military life:
    He signed up on 22 Feb 1916 and spent that summer in training before sailing in September for England.  Between arrival in the UK and and August
    (or so) in 1917 he completed his basic training and joined a signal corps where he learned his morse code.  He applied for officer training and
    aircraft schooling which was granted.  He was successful and discharged from the Canadian Armed Forces and joined the Imperial Army on 20 Feb     1918.  On April 1 1918 the RAF was formed with 2nd Lieutenant William Spriggs a part of it.  He then continued his flight training, photgraphy
    courses, gunnery school, ground signals, cross country, formation flying, bombing, buzzing and a few others until 20 July 1918.  He then went
    Winchester for Artillery and Infantry CO-OP school until the 10th of August 1918  He then was transferred to France and joined 8th Squadron on
    18th of August.  I remember Dad telling me his observer, Oscar Berridge as a ‘crack shot’.  Good thing, they may not have made it with a lesser
    man.
Miscellaneous:
    During the summer of 1915 Dad got home on weekends occasionally while on military training and photos seem to indicate this judging by his
    army uniform, kilt and all.
    To answer Randi’s question, Mum & Dab travelled at least once to check out farming in Canada.  Land was very cheap in Canada so their ‘bang for
    the buck’ would go much further in Canada.  The farm and house had been empty for sometime when they bought it which might also have meant     a lower price and it was out of the way which would mean a possible further price reduction as well.  Schooling was not a problem.  Wolfeville had
    Acadia University, where Dad was enrolled, Kings College School (private) where Bob was enrolled (and where he met Hazel Warneford, his wife to
    be, and Edgehill School for Girls (private) where Alison and Hester went (and also met a young lass known as Agnes Elizabeth Mary Lickfold) who
    as eventually introduced to a youngish RAF veteran.  The rest is, as they say, history.  So you can see that moving to Nova Scotia was a place             offering possibilities.
    Eleanor might be right about other reasons for leaving good old blighty but we will never know for sure.
    The pictures of Dad in his uniform were all taken in 1919 after his return to Canada as noted by the uniform itself but also the ‘wings’.   I guess
    he didn’t have any clothes that would fit him (I know that I grew until I was 21) or they had been thrown out earlier.
 
I hope you don’t mind all the knitpicking Peter, but there you are.  This project is really a large task and you are doing a great job.  Good on ya!
 
love to you and Randi and the rest of the family
John
 
Sent: Sunday, October 18, 2020 10:18 PM
Subject: Your thoughts on England: Tales of a Time Traveler
 

Hi folks,

Attached is Part 3 of a 6 part digital book on the extended Spriggs family. Part 3 has a piece on William Spriggs b. 1898. In a spare moment, I would much appreciate any feedback (errors, omissions, over the top silliness, you name it) that you come across in the Spriggs piece or throughout. If time does not permit, not a problem. I shall feed it to the cat and seek a real life.
 
The plan is to put the end result on my website as an easy way for all to access and if for those who wish, download it. Remaining parts should not be far behind. Note: Because of the 2 column layout this will likely not display well on personal devices.
 
Much love, Peter
 
 

Peter Brucepkbruce@gmail.com

AttachmentsSun, Oct 18, 10:51 AM (10 days ago)

 
to DavidJohnHilaryme
 
Hi John,
This is brilliant. Many thanks for digging it up. Very helpful to know the model of plane, details of signalling skills, the one-way technology and the photography techniques. Re. Morse code, I’m reminded of his interest in this back at the farm when we built a morse signalling station. I recall mum saying he’d erected an antenna on a high pole with much effort, only to have it come done in a blow. But back up it went. So he was well-versed in Morse before he joined up. That would have made him a valuable asset indeed. Particularly interesting is this: “Counter Attack.  Hun down in flames at Le Cateau” That confirms what I yesterday surmised:
  • Per the DFC certificate, Will was under the command of General Rawlinson who led the fourth army of the British Expeditionary Force
  • They were one part of 10 battles fought during the Hundred Days Offensive from Aug 8 to Nov 11 (Armistice)
  • The battles occurred sequentially along the Hindenberg Line, the German defensive position of fortified villages, trenches  and artillery emplacements across central France
  • Will under Rawlinson was in the Battle of the Selle (River)which had proved a topographic challenge to cross, for on the opposite bank the Germans were well dug in amid a steep high embankment
  • Rawlinson took 6 days to organize the assault then at dawn on 17 Oct advanced across the river
  • Will must have been in the air at the same time as it could not have been earlier because of darkness. The Morse feedback on artillery positions and German responses to the attack would have been key to the assault’s success
  • Le Cateau was the nearby village just beyond the River Selle
Back to typing. I will send on the result for corrections by family when finished. Thanks again John. Peter
 
 

Hey Peter,

 
I have a few things for you.
 
1) The audio recording of my mum interviewing Will about his WWI flying experiences was from 1986. I once started to type up the transcript from it, and while it is only 34min in length, the task of transcribing is much longer. I will send it on should I tackle that again. The recording is in MP3 format and is 50mb in size. I will zip it up and wetransfer.com it to you.
 
2) Many years ago, when I was studying at the UofA I volunteered at the student paper there and became the photo editor, giving me access to the rather well-equipped studio cove there. I took my grandfather into the studio during one of his visits to us over Christmas time (1985) and photographed him. Unfortunately, I used and already-shot roll of film and so double-exposed every frame. First mortified, but then delighted with the results at the time, I scanned them in and made a mini site of them here: http://hellum.ca/Will.html. I hope you find the photos interesting.
 
3) I have my uncle Bill reciting three poems from a visit I made out your way in 2012. I will wetransfer those to you as well. I split them up into three MP3s.
 
Hope all is well. I am self-isolating here as well, purely as a good measure.
 
love,
 
/timothy
 
 
Hi Peter,
I have a couple of notes about Dad which I shall pass along shortly.  You can see by checking the 1919 London Gazette and Googleing William Spriggs, the notification of the award of the DFC to him and to his observer, Oscar  Berridge.  The planes Dad flew were not fighters.  Quite probably it was a Armstrong Whitworth AW90 a two seater observer plane.  I shall confirm that when I find his log book.  These aircraft were certainly not meant to get into dog fights as they were rather cumbersome.  They happened upon a German observer plane while returning to home base and two started shooting at one another. When the German fire hit the fuel pump (run by a prop on the wing above Dad’s head) he broke off the fight but then his obserer pounded him on the back to show the enemy plane going down with smoke trailing behind.  The DFC was more about the mission they were on.  I shall give more on that later.
John
 
Sent: Saturday, October 17, 2020 1:13 AM
Subject: Will and the DFC
 

Hi John, David and Hilary,

I trust all are well at your end. We are just fine. While I’m staying close to home these days I thought I’d get started on my long-held intention to do a write-up on the family. The original intention was a modest affair: Our multiple families through the ages against the backdrop of the rise and fall of the British Empire. By the end of the first half hour it was pared down to ‘a selection of events in the Spriggs extended family from the late 1500s.’
 
That brought me to Will’s dogfight. How would you (and the family) feel if I included a write-up on Will in the ‘book.’ It will be an e-book placed on my public website as 5 pdf files which folks can download or link to. It’s not intended to be a family history, per se, rather an attempt to interest, particularly the younger generation, in the remarkable individuals we have in the family tree and in a small way, bring the tree to life.
 
Let me know what you think.  John, do you recall the model of aircraft that Will flew in that dogfight? A Sopwith or Bristol per chance?
 
Much love, Peter (and Randi)
 
 
 
 
 
 

Zong Massacre

The Zong massacre was a mass killing of more than 130 enslaved Africans by the crew of the British slave ship Zong on and in the days following 29 November 1781.[a] The Gregson slave-trading syndicate, based in Liverpool, owned the ship and sailed her in the Atlantic slave trade. As was common business practice, they had taken out insurance on the lives of the enslaved people as cargo. According to the crew, when the ship ran low on drinking water following navigational mistakes, the crew threw enslaved people overboard into the sea.

After the slave ship reached port at Black River, JamaicaZongs owners made a claim to their insurers for the loss of the enslaved people. When the insurers refused to pay, the resulting court cases (Gregson v Gilbert (1783) 3 Doug. KB 232) held that in some circumstances, the deliberate murder of enslaved people was legal and that insurers could be required to pay for those who had died. The jury found for the slavers, but at a subsequent appeal hearing the judges, led by Lord Chief Justice, the Earl of Mansfield, ruled against the syndicate owners, due to new evidence that suggested the captain and crew were at fault.

Following the first trial, Olaudah Equiano, a freedman, brought news of the massacre to the attention of the anti-slavery campaigner Granville Sharp, who worked unsuccessfully to have the ship’s crew prosecuted for murder. Because of the legal dispute, reports of the massacre received increased publicity, stimulating the abolitionist movement in the late 18th and early 19th centuries; the Zong events were increasingly cited as a powerful symbol of the horrors of the Middle Passage, the transoceanic route by which enslaved people were brought to the New World.[3]

The non-denominational Society for Effecting the Abolition of the Slave Trade was founded in 1787. The next year Parliament passed the Slave Trade Act 1788, its first law regulating the slave trade, to limit the number of enslaved people per ship. Then, in 1791, Parliament prohibited insurance companies from reimbursing ship owners when enslaved people were murdered by being thrown overboard. The massacre has also inspired works of art and literature. It was remembered in London in 2007, among events to mark the bicentenary of the British Slave Trade Act 1807, which abolished British participation in the African slave trade (though stopped short of outlawing slavery itself). A monument to the murdered enslaved people on Zong was installed at Black River, Jamaica.

Zong[edit]

Zong was originally named Zorg (meaning “Care” in Dutch) by its owners, the Middelburgsche Commercie Compagnie. It operated as a slave ship based in MiddelburgNetherlands, and made a voyage in 1777, delivering slaves to the Dutch colony of Surinam in South America.[4] Zong was a “square stern ship” of 110 tons burthen.[5] The British 16-gun brig HMS Alert captured her on 10 February 1781. On 26 February, Alert and Zong arrived at Cape Coast Castle, in what is present-day Ghana. Cape Coast Castle was maintained and staffed, along with other forts and castles, by the Royal African Company (RAC),[6] which used the Castle as its regional headquarters.[7]

In early March 1781, the master of William purchased Zong on behalf of a syndicate of Liverpool merchants,[8] which included Edward Wilson, George Case, James Aspinall and William, James, and John Gregson.[9] William Gregson had an interest in 50 slaving voyages between 1747 and 1780; he also served as mayor of Liverpool in 1762.[10] By the end of his life, vessels in which Gregson had a financial stake had carried 58,000 Africans to slavery in the Americas.[11]

Zong was paid for with bills of exchange, and the 244 enslaved people already on board were part of the transaction.[8] The ship was not insured until after it started its voyage.[12] The insurers, another syndicate from Liverpool, underwrote the ship and its slaves for up to £8,000, approximately half the slaves’ potential market value. The remaining risk was borne by the owners.[12][13]

Crew[edit]

Zong was the first command of Luke Collingwood, formerly the surgeon on the William.[14] While Collingwood lacked experience in navigation and command, ship’s surgeons were typically involved in selecting slaves for purchase in Africa, so their medical expertise supported the determination of “commodity value” for a captive.[15] If the surgeon rejected a captive, that individual suffered “commercial death”, being of no value, and was liable to be killed by the African traders.[15] Sometimes these killings happened in the presence of the surgeon. It is therefore likely that Collingwood had already witnessed the mass killing of enslaved people. Historian Jeremy Krikler commented that this may have prepared him psychologically to condone the massacre that later took place on the Zong.[15][16][17] Zong‘s first mate was James Kelsall, who had also served on the William.[10]

The vessel’s only passenger, Robert Stubbs, was a former captain of slave ships. In early 1780 he was appointed by the African Committee of the Royal African Company as the governor of Anomabu, a British fortification near Cape Coast Castle in Ghana.[7] This position made him also vice-president of the RAC Council of the Castle.[7] Due to his ineptitude and enmity incurred with John Roberts, governor of the Castle, Stubbs was forced out of the governorship of Anomabu by the RAC Council after nine months.[7][18] Witness statements gathered by the African Committee of the RAC accused him of being a semi-literate drunkard who mismanaged the slave-trading activities of the fort.[19] Stubbs was aboard to return to Britain; Collingwood may have thought his earlier experience on slave ships would be useful.[7]

Zong had a 17-man crew when it left Africa, which was far too small to maintain adequate sanitary conditions on the ship.[20] Mariners willing to risk disease and rebellions on slave ships were difficult to recruit within Britain and were harder to find for a vessel captured from the Dutch off the coast of Africa.[21] Zong was manned with remnants of the previous Dutch crew, the crew of William, and with unemployed sailors hired from settlements along the African coast.[12]

The Middle Passage[edit]

When Zong sailed from Accra with 442 slaves on 18 August 1781, it had taken on more than twice the number of people that it could safely transport.[12] In the 1780s, British-built ships typically carried 1.75 slaves per ton of the ship’s capacity; on the Zong, the ratio was 4.0 per ton.[22] A British slave ship of the period would carry around 193 slaves and it was extremely unusual for a ship of Zong‘s relatively small size to carry so many.[23]

After taking on drinking water at São ToméZong began its voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to Jamaica on 6 September. On 18 or 19 November, the ship neared Tobago in the Caribbean but failed to stop there to replenish its water supplies.[24]

It is unclear who, if anyone, was in charge of the ship at this point,[25] as Luke Collingwood had been gravely ill for some time.[26] The man who would normally have replaced him, first mate James Kelsall, had been previously suspended from duty following an argument on 14 November.[26] Robert Stubbs had captained a slave ship several decades earlier and he temporarily commanded Zong during Collingwood’s incapacitation, but he was not a registered member of the vessel’s crew.[27] According to historian James Walvin, the breakdown of the command structure on the ship might explain the subsequent navigational errors and the absence of checks on supplies of drinking water.[28]

Massacre[edit]

Map of the Caribbean, showing Tobago, Hispaniola and Jamaica

 

Map of the Caribbean, showing TobagoHispaniola (red) and Jamaica (blue)

On 27 or 28 November, the crew sighted Jamaica at a distance of 27 nautical miles (50 km; 31 mi) but misidentified it as the French colony of Saint-Domingue on the island of Hispaniola.[29][30] Zong continued on its westward course, leaving Jamaica behind. This mistake was recognised only after the ship was 300 miles (480 km) leeward of the island.[29] Overcrowding, malnutrition, accidents and disease had already killed several mariners and approximately 62 Africans.[31] James Kelsall later claimed that there was only four days’ water remaining on the ship when the navigational error was discovered and Jamaica was still 10–13 sailing days away.[32]

A plan of the slave ship Brookes, showing the extreme overcrowding experienced by enslaved people on the Middle Passage

 

Plan of the slave ship Brookes, carrying 454 slaves. Before the Slave Trade Act 1788Brookes had transported 609 enslaved people and was 267 tons burden, making 2.3 enslaved people per ton. Zong carried 442 enslaved people and was 110 tons burden—4.0 enslaved people per ton.[23]

If the enslaved people died onshore, the Liverpool ship-owners would have had no redress from their insurers. Similarly, if the enslaved people died a “natural death” (as the contemporary term put it) at sea, then insurance could not be claimed. If some enslaved people were thrown overboard in order to save the rest of the “cargo” or the ship, then a claim could be made under “general average“.[33] (This principle holds that a captain who jettisons part of his cargo in order to save the rest can claim for the loss from his insurers.) The ship’s insurance covered the loss of enslaved people at £30  per person.[34]

On 29 November, the crew assembled to consider the proposal that some of the enslaved people should be thrown overboard.[35] James Kelsall later claimed that he had disagreed with the plan at first but it was soon unanimously agreed.[34][35] On 29 November, 54 women and children were thrown through cabin windows into the sea.[36] On 1 December, 42 male enslaved people were thrown overboard, and 36 more followed in the next few days.[36] Another ten, in a display of defiance at the inhumanity of the slavers, chose to commit suicide by jumping into the sea.[36] Having heard the shrieks of the victims as they were thrown into the water, one of the captives requested that the remaining Africans be denied all food and drink rather than thrown into the sea. The crew ignored this request.[37] In total, 142 Africans were killed by the time the ship reached Jamaica. The account of the King’s Bench trial reports that one enslaved person managed to climb back onto the ship after being thrown into the water.[38]

The crew claimed that the enslaved people had been jettisoned because the ship did not have enough water to keep all the enslaved people alive for the rest of the voyage. This claim was later disputed, as the ship had 420 imperial gallons (1,900 l) of water left when it finally arrived in Jamaica on 22 December.[34] An affidavit later made by Kelsall stated that on 1 December, when 42 enslaved people were killed, it rained heavily for more than a day, allowing six casks of water (sufficient for 11 days) to be collected.[34][39]

Arrival at Jamaica[edit]

On 22 December 1781, Zong arrived at Black River, Jamaica with 208 enslaved people on board, less than half the number taken from Africa.[36] These people were sold for an average price of £36 per person.[5] The Jamaican Vice-Admiralty court upheld the legality of the British capture of Zong from the Dutch, and the syndicate renamed the ship Richard of Jamaica.[5] Luke Collingwood died three days after Zong reached Jamaica, two years before the 1783 court proceedings about the case.[4]

Legal proceedings[edit]

When news of the Zong massacre reached Great Britain, the ship’s owners claimed compensation from their insurers for the loss of the enslaved people. The insurers refused to honour the claim and the owners took them to court.[41] Zongs logbook went missing after the ship reached Jamaica, two years before the hearings started. As such the legal proceedings provide almost all the documentary evidence about the massacre, though there is no formal record of the first trial other than what is referred to in the subsequent appeals hearing.[42] The ship’s insurers claimed that the log had been deliberately destroyed, which the Gregson syndicate denied.[43]

Almost all the surviving source material is of questionable reliability. The two witnesses who gave evidence, Robert Stubbs and James Kelsall, were strongly motivated to exonerate themselves from blame.[b] It is possible that the figures concerning the number of people killed, the amount of water that remained on the ship, and the distance beyond Jamaica that Zong had mistakenly sailed are inaccurate.[45]

First trial[edit]

Legal proceedings began when the insurers refused to compensate the owners of Zong. The dispute was initially tried at the Guildhall in London[46] on 6 March 1783, with the Lord Chief Justice, the Earl of Mansfield, overseeing the trial before a jury.[41] Mansfield was previously the judge in Somersett’s Case in 1772, which concerned the legality of enslaving people in Britain. He had ruled that slavery had never been established by statute in Britain and was not supported by common law.[47]

Robert Stubbs was the only witness in the first Zong trial and the jury found in favour of the owners, under an established protocol in maritime insurance that considered slaves as cargo.[48] On 19 March 1783, Olaudah Equiano, a formerly enslaved person, told the anti-slave-trade activist Granville Sharp of the events aboard Zong and a newspaper soon carried a lengthy account, reporting that the captain had ordered the enslaved people killed in three batches.[49][50] Sharp sought legal advice the next day, about the possibility of prosecuting the crew for murder.[51]

King’s Bench appeal[edit]

Portrait of Granville Sharp. The head and shoulders of Sharp are seen from the side, in an oval frame

 

Granville Sharp, from a drawing by George Dance

The insurers applied to the Earl of Mansfield to have the previous verdict set aside and for the case to be tried again.[52] A hearing was held at the Court of King’s Bench in Westminster Hall on 21–22 May 1783, before Mansfield and two other King’s Bench judges, Mr Justice Buller and Mr Justice Willes.[53] The Solicitor GeneralJohn Lee, appeared on behalf of the Zong‘s owners, as he had done previously in the Guildhall trial.[54] Granville Sharp was also in attendance, together with a secretary he had hired to take a written record of the proceedings.[55]

Summing up the verdict reached in the first trial, Mansfield said that the jury:

had no doubt (though it shocks one very much) that the Case of Slaves was the same as if Horses had been thrown over board … The Question was, whether there was not an Absolute Necessity for throwing them over board to save the rest? The Jury were of opinion there was …[56][57]

Collingwood had died in 1781 and the only witness of the massacre to appear at Westminster Hall was again Robert Stubbs, although a written affidavit by first mate James Kelsall was made available to the lawyers.[58] Stubbs claimed that there was “an absolute Necessity for throwing over the Negroes”, because the crew feared all the enslaved people would die if they did not throw some into the sea.[59] The insurers argued that Collingwood had made “a Blunder and Mistake” in sailing beyond Jamaica and that enslaved people had been killed so their owners could claim compensation.[59] They alleged that Collingwood did this because he did not want his first voyage as a slave ship captain to be unprofitable.[60]

John Lee responded by saying that the enslaved people “perished just as a Cargo of Goods perished” and were jettisoned for the greater good of the ship.[61] The insurers’ legal team replied that Lee’s argument could never justify the killing of innocent people; each of the three addressed issues of humanity in the treatment of the slaves and said that the actions of Zong‘s crew were nothing less than murder.[61] Historian James Walvin has argued that it is possible that Granville Sharp directly influenced the strategy of the insurers’ legal team.[61]

At the hearing, new evidence was heard, that heavy rain had fallen on the ship on the second day of the killings, but still a third batch of enslaved people was killed after that. This led Mansfield to order another trial, because the rainfall meant that the killing of those people, after the water shortage had been eased, could not be justified in terms of the greater necessity of saving the ship and the rest of the enslaved people aboard.[62][63] One of the justices in attendance also said that this evidence invalidated the findings of the jury in the first trial, as the jury had heard testimony that the water shortage resulted from the poor condition of the ship, brought on by unforeseen maritime conditions, rather than from errors committed by its captain.[64] Mansfield concluded that the insurers were not liable for losses resulting from errors committed by Zong‘s crew.[65]

There is no evidence that another trial was held on this issue.[66][67] Despite Granville Sharp’s efforts, no member of the crew was prosecuted for murder.[68] Even so, the Zong case did eventually gain both national and international attention. A summary of the appeal on the Zong case was eventually published in the nominate reports prepared from the contemporaneous manuscript notes of Sylvester Douglas, Baron Glenbervie, and others. It was published in 1831 as Gregson v Gilbert (1783) 3 Doug. KB 232.[69][c]

Mansfield’s motivations[edit]

Jeremy Krikler has argued that Mansfield wanted to ensure that commercial law remained as helpful to Britain’s overseas trade as possible and as a consequence was keen to uphold the principle of “general average”, even in relation to the killing of humans. For Mansfield to have found in favour of the insurers would have greatly undermined this idea.[70] The revelation that rain had fallen during the period of the killings enabled Mansfield to order a retrial, while leaving the notion of “general average” intact. He emphasised that the massacre would have been legally justified and the owners’ insurance claim would have been valid if the water shortage had not arisen from mistakes made by the captain.[65]

Krikler comments that Mansfield’s conclusions ignored the ruling precedent of his predecessor, Matthew Hale, that the killing of innocents in the name of self-preservation was unlawful. This ruling was to prove important a century later in R v Dudley and Stephens, which also concerned the justifiability of acts of murder at sea.[47] Mansfield also failed to acknowledge another important legal principle—that no insurance claim can be legal if it arose from an illegal act.[71]

Effect on the abolitionist movement[edit]

A cartoon image of the crew of a slave ship lashing a female slave. The ship's captain is standing on the left, holding a whip. Sailors are standing on the right. In the centre, a female slave is hanging from a pulley by her ankle. Other naked slaves are in the background.

 

Depiction of the torture of a female slave by Captain John Kimber, produced in 1792. Unlike the crew of Zong, Kimber was tried for the murder of two female slaves. The trial generated substantial news coverage in addition to printed images such as this—unlike the limited reporting of the Zong killings a decade earlier.[72]

Granville Sharp campaigned to raise awareness of the massacre, writing letters to newspapers, the Lords Commissioners of Admiralty and the Prime Minister (the Duke of Portland).[73][74] Neither Portland nor the Admiralty sent him a reply.[74] Only a single London newspaper reported the first Zong trial in March 1783, but it provided details of events.[75] The newspaper article in March 1783 was the first public report of the massacre, and it was published nearly 18 months after the event.[76] Little else about the massacre appeared in print before 1787.[72][77]

Despite these setbacks, Sharp’s efforts did have some success. In April 1783, he sent an account of the massacre to William Dillwyn, a Quaker, who had asked to see evidence that was critical of the slave trade. The London Yearly Meeting of the Society of Friends decided shortly after to begin campaigning against slavery, and a petition signed by 273 Quakers was submitted to parliament in July 1783.[78] Sharp also sent letters to Anglican bishops and clergy and to those already sympathetic to the abolitionist cause.[79]

The immediate effect of the Zong massacre on public opinion was limited, demonstrating—as the historian of abolitionism Seymour Drescher has noted—the challenge that the early abolitionists faced.[77] Following Sharp’s efforts, the Zong massacre became an important topic in abolitionist literature and the massacre was discussed in works by Thomas ClarksonOttobah CugoanoJames Ramsay and John Newton.[80][81] These accounts often omitted the names of the ship and its captain, thereby creating, in the words of Srividhya Swaminathan, “a portrait of abuse that could be mapped onto any ship in the Middle Passage”.[82][83]

The Zong killings offered a powerful example of the horrors of the slave trade, stimulating the development of the abolitionist movement in Britain, which dramatically expanded in size and influence in the late 1780s.[76][84][85] In 1787, the Society for the Abolition of the Slave Trade was founded.[3]

Parliament received numerous petitions against the slave trade and examined the issue in 1788. With strong support by Sir William Dolben, who had toured a slave ship, it passed the Slave Trade Act 1788 (Dolben’s Act), which was its first legislation to regulate the slave trade. It restricted the number of slaves that could be transported, to reduce problems of overcrowding and poor sanitation. Its renewal in 1794 included an amendment that limited the scope of insurance policies concerning slaves, rendering illegal such generalised phrases that promised to insure against “all other Perils, Losses, and Misfortunes.” (The Zong owners’ representatives had highlighted such a phrase in seeking their claim at the King’s Bench hearing.)[86] The act had to be renewed annually and Dolben led these efforts, speaking frequently to parliament in opposition to slavery.[87] The Slave Trade Act of 1799 was passed to make these provisions permanent.

Abolitionists, notably William Wilberforce, continued their effort to end the slave trade. Britain passed the Slave Trade Act 1807, which prohibited the Atlantic slave trade, and the Royal Navy enforced the Blockade of Africa. The United States also prohibited the Atlantic slave trade in 1808 and helped intercept illegal slave ships at sea, predominately after 1842.

In 1823, the Society for the Mitigation and Gradual Abolition of Slavery Throughout the British Dominions (known as the first Anti-Slavery Society) was founded in Britain, dedicated to abolishing slavery throughout the British Empire; the Slavery Abolition Act 1833 represented the achievement of their goal. The Zong massacre was frequently cited in abolitionist literature in the 19th century; in 1839, Thomas Clarkson published his History of the Rise, Progress, and Accomplishment of the Abolition of the African Slave Trade, which included an account of killings.[88][89]

Clarkson’s book had an important influence on the artist J. M. W. Turner, who displayed a painting at the Royal Academy summer exhibition in 1840 entitled The Slave Ship. The painting depicts a vessel from which a number of manacled slaves have been thrown into the sea, to be devoured by sharks. Some of the details in the painting, such as the shackles worn by the slaves, appear to have been influenced by the illustrations in Clarkson’s book.[89] The painting was shown at an important time in the movement to abolish slavery worldwide, as the Royal Academy exhibition opened one month before the first World Anti-Slavery Convention in London.[90][91] The painting was admired by its owner, John Ruskin. It has been described by the 20th-century critic Marcus Wood as one of the few truly great depictions in Western art of the Atlantic slave trade.[92]

Representations in modern culture[edit]

A sailing ship sits moored on the River Thames, with a large bridge in the background

 

Kaskelot, appearing as Zong, at Tower Bridge during commemoration of the 200th anniversary of the Act for the Abolition of the Slave Trade in 2007

The Zong massacre has inspired several works of literature. Fred D’Aguiar‘s novel Feeding the Ghosts (1997) tells the story of an African who survives being thrown overboard from the Zong. In the novel, the journal of the slave—Mintah—is lost, unlike that of Granville Sharp. According to the cultural historian Anita Rupprecht, this signifies the silencing of African voices about the massacre.[38]

M. NourbeSe Philip‘s 2008 book of poems, Zong!, is based on the events surrounding the massacre and uses the account of the King’s Bench hearing as its primary material. Philip’s text physically deconstructs the account as a method for undermining the document’s authority.[38]

Margaret Busby‘s play An African Cargo, staged by Nitro theatre company at Greenwich Theatre in 2007 and directed by Felix Cross, dealt with the massacre and the 1783 trials, making use of the legal transcripts.[93][94][95]

An episode of the television programme Garrow’s Law (2010) is loosely based on the legal events arising from the massacre.[96] The historical William Garrow did not take part in the case, and because the Zong‘s captain died shortly after arriving in Jamaica, his appearance in court for fraud is also fictional.[97]

In 2014-15, David Boxer, an artist from Jamaica, painted Passage: Flotsam and Jetsam III (Zong).[98]

A new play being developed by Giles Terera, titled The Meaning of Zong, also deals with the massacre and the 1783 trials. Jointly commissioned by the Royal National Theatre and presented and developed with partner theatres in Liverpool, Glasgow and London, this play had a number of workshop performances and discussions staged in Autumn 2018, ahead of being fully staged in 2019.[99]

The Zong legal case is the main theme of the 2013 British period drama film Belle, directed by Amma Asante.

2007 abolition commemorations[edit]

In 2007, a memorial stone was erected at Black River, Jamaica, near where Zong would have landed.[100] A sailing ship representing Zong was sailed to Tower Bridge in London in March 2007 to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the Act for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, at a cost of £300,000. The vessel housed depictions of the Zong massacre and the slave trade.[100] It was accompanied by HMS Northumberland, on board which was an exhibition commemorating the role of the Royal Navy after 1807 in the suppression of the slave trade.[101]

Bournville

Bournville

Praesent lectus purus, molestie vitae semper id, convallis ac justo. Sed ac scelerisque metus, vel eleifend tortor. Etiam non scelerisque sem, et condimentum nunc. Morbi pharetra eu metus sit amet facilisis. Nulla auctor venenatis rutrum. Aenean vehicula diam consequat, sagittis lacus non, dictum nunc. Maecenas justo sapien, sagittis porttitor mi vitae, dictum faucibus ipsum. Aliquam tincidunt nunc tincidunt, feugiat arcu sit amet, vehicula enim. Cras sed elit suscipit, scelerisque elit et, placerat augue. Cras odio lectus, finibus viverra tortor et, porttitor lacinia risus. Donec a vehicula nisi, vel vehicula est. Pellentesque laoreet felis ac odio consequat, quis convallis arcu mollis.

Aliquam imperdiet lectus ut urna eleifend, et gravida erat pulvinar. Ut hendrerit tellus id faucibus rutrum. Suspendisse laoreet dolor nec hendrerit pulvinar. Maecenas quis nisl diam. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Fusce at tempus tortor, sit amet rutrum mauris. Maecenas vulputate est sodales, aliquet libero nec, efficitur neque. Mauris quis malesuada libero. Integer posuere aliquet maximus. Integer condimentum facilisis sem a faucibus. Suspendisse ut est ornare, laoreet eros nec, semper orci. In sed purus eu nunc pretium rutrum. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Suspendisse blandit vel est sit amet auctor. Integer quis nisl at eros pharetra varius. Donec mollis elit libero, a vestibulum tellus sodales nec.

Light!

John Richardson Wigham Lighthouse Engineer  (1829-1906)

By the mid-1800s the Richardsons had been in the tanning business for 200 years. One could say they had ‘made it.’ It would have been easy for family members to just continue doing what they knew best — tanning. Yet periodically, that spirit of innovation and entrepreneurism which seemed a part of their very DNA manifested in some remarkable and world changing way.

Take the case of John Richardson Wigham (1829-1906), a Richardson on his mother’s side. John was born a Quaker in Edinburgh. His father manufactured shawls. His mother died when he was one. At 15, his father sent him to Dublin, Ireland to apprentice under his brother-in-law, Joshua Edmundson (1806-1848). Joshua’s company , Edmundson and Company, worked iron, founded brass and manufactured gas generation plants.

Then, in 1848, Joshua died unexpectedly, aged 42. He contracted Typhus while working the Quaker soup kitchens during the Irish potato famine. His death left his wife, Mary Wigham (1818-1906), John’s sister, with 5 children under 8. Desperate, Mary asked John, then 19, to take over the family business.

Despite his young age and limited education, John proved to be an astute businessman. He narrowed the focus of the business to building improved gas plants (a plant was the mechanism which converted liquid fossil fuel to gas) of his own design and the enterprise flourished.

John’s Richardson relatives built ships on the Clyde. No doubt he conversed with them at family gatherings about maritime matters. That got John thinking about expanding the business into navigational aids, in particular, developing lighted buoys for river navigation which would remain lit in severe weather. John patented the first successful lighted buoy in 1861.

 

In 1863, the Dublin Ballast Board gave John a grant to develop gas lights for lighthouses. In 1865, John’s new gas light was installed in the Bailey Lighthouse on the east coast of Ireland. Experiments were carried out which identified the best fuel source for the light. The resulting design was 4 times more powerful than comparable oil lamps of the day. In 1868, Edmundson and Company installed an improved version of the light at Baily Lighthouse which was 13 times more powerful than the most brilliant light then known, an astonishing accomplishment.

Then, just two years later, Wigham made another monumental innovation, an intermittent flashing mechanism, which timed the gas supply by means of clockwork. When this mechanism was combined with a revolving lens in Rockabill Lighthouse, the world’s first lighthouse with a group-flashing characteristic was produced. That innovation was of tremendous importance to navigation because it gave each lighthouse a unique identification, ruling out errors of position. It most certainly saved thousands of lives across the world.

Other inventions followed – better oil lamps, gas-lights, electric lights, gas-powered fog signals, buoys and acetylene lighting. John died in 1906, hard at work on a new innovation. For his life-saving accomplishments, John was twice offered a knighthood. In keeping with the Quaker abhorrence of titles, he twice declined.

 

Source for header and gallery images with thanks: https://greatlighttq.org/app/uploads/2018/03/Wigham-John-R-Inventor-KL-History.pdf

John Richardson Wigham (1829-1906)
Lighthouse engineer

Relation: uncle of wife of 3rd cousin 3x removed

Cadbury

Cadbury

Bournville

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Aliquam imperdiet lectus ut urna eleifend, et gravida erat pulvinar. Ut hendrerit tellus id faucibus rutrum. Suspendisse laoreet dolor nec hendrerit pulvinar. Maecenas quis nisl diam. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Fusce at tempus tortor, sit amet rutrum mauris. Maecenas vulputate est sodales, aliquet libero nec, efficitur neque. Mauris quis malesuada libero. Integer posuere aliquet maximus. Integer condimentum facilisis sem a faucibus. Suspendisse ut est ornare, laoreet eros nec, semper orci. In sed purus eu nunc pretium rutrum. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Suspendisse blandit vel est sit amet auctor. Integer quis nisl at eros pharetra varius. Donec mollis elit libero, a vestibulum tellus sodales nec.

Cadbury’s Chocolate

Praesent lectus purus, molestie vitae semper id, convallis ac justo. Sed ac scelerisque metus, vel eleifend tortor. Etiam non scelerisque sem, et condimentum nunc. Morbi pharetra eu metus sit amet facilisis. Nulla auctor venenatis rutrum. Aenean vehicula diam consequat, sagittis lacus non, dictum nunc. Maecenas justo sapien, sagittis porttitor mi vitae, dictum faucibus ipsum. Aliquam tincidunt nunc tincidunt, feugiat arcu sit amet, vehicula enim. Cras sed elit suscipit, scelerisque elit et, placerat augue. Cras odio lectus, finibus viverra tortor et, porttitor lacinia risus. Donec a vehicula nisi, vel vehicula est. Pellentesque laoreet felis ac odio consequat, quis convallis arcu mollis.

Aliquam imperdiet lectus ut urna eleifend, et gravida erat pulvinar. Ut hendrerit tellus id faucibus rutrum. Suspendisse laoreet dolor nec hendrerit pulvinar. Maecenas quis nisl diam. In hac habitasse platea dictumst. Fusce at tempus tortor, sit amet rutrum mauris. Maecenas vulputate est sodales, aliquet libero nec, efficitur neque. Mauris quis malesuada libero. Integer posuere aliquet maximus. Integer condimentum facilisis sem a faucibus. Suspendisse ut est ornare, laoreet eros nec, semper orci. In sed purus eu nunc pretium rutrum. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Suspendisse blandit vel est sit amet auctor. Integer quis nisl at eros pharetra varius. Donec mollis elit libero, a vestibulum tellus sodales nec.

Indomitable Mary Fisher 1623-1698

Mary Attempts to Convert the Sultan

In December of 1651, in the small town of Selby, Yorkshire, a man gave a talk to the Tomlinson family. Invited to listen was their indentured serving maid Mary Fisher (27). The man was George Fox who several years prior, had begun to preach his new religion, later known as Quakerism. George was a year younger than Mary, affable, magnetic and well-spoken.

Mary listened intently and by the end of the talk she had committed her life to the cause of spreading the word of Fox’s simpler, individually defined way of relating to God. Mary lost no time with her quest. Within the year she was imprisoned in York Castle for ‘speaking to a priest.’ She remained there for 16 months.

Mary Fisher
MehmedIV
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Above images: Mary addresses the Sultan; Sultan Mehmed IV (1642-1693), ruler of the Ottoman Empire

Following her release in the autumn of 1653, Mary and Ann Austin, a 50 year old mother of five, arrived at Cambridge University where they admonished the students of the seminary for choosing a life in a church filled with privilege and corruption. The incensed Mayor William Pickering demanded the Constable to “whip them at the Market Cross till the blood ran down their bodies.”

Mary was on a roll. Within two months she was again imprisoned, this time in Castle Garth, York, where she was thrown in with 60 Dutch prisoners of war. The men soon made threatening sexual advances. But the courage shown by Mary and the other Quaker prisoners so moved both the prisoners and their gaolers that they ceased to harass them.

When Mary was again released she set her sights on spreading the word of Quakerism abroad. In 1655, she and her companion Ann Austin boarded a ship in London and became the first Quakers to arrive on the shores of Barbados. Their conversion attempts were not well received by the largely Anglican residents, many of whom were too busy cavorting and drinking good Barbados rum to listen. And I’m guessing that most of them were not of a mind to free their slaves who allowed them the luxury to drink and cavort. However, Mary and Ann did manage to convert the Lieutenant-Governor.

After a brief stay, they must have decided that Barbadians were a hopeless cause and that discretion was the better part of valour, for they sailed for New England. Their ship, the Swallow, docked in Boston, Massachusetts Bay Colony on the 11th of July, 1656. Word had reached authorities earlier that the women were coming and they were immediately imprisoned without food, water or visitors.

In the last half of the seventeenth century witch-hunts had become common practice in both England and New England. At its peak in England (1645-1647) over a hundred people (largely women) were put to death; in New England, thirteen women and two men were executed in the witch-hunts of 1647 to 1663. In the Salem trials of 1692-1693 20 more were put to death; five died in prison.

The two women, suspected of being witches, were intimately examined for any sign. A mole or any England: Tales of a Time Traveler Part 1 1.24 unusual mark on their skin would be a death sentence. None were found. For five weeks, they were imprisoned. Mary and Ann survived only through the kindness shown by the elderly owner of a Boston inn, Nicholas Upsall, who through bribes, brought the women food and water. The captain of the Swallow was ordered to return the women to Barbados. From there, they found their way back to England.

What happened to Ann at that point, we don’t know. But for Mary, this was merely a test run. She next decided that the entire Muslim world was needful of enlightenment and that the quickest way to convert the unwashed millions of the Ottoman Empire was to convert their leader, Sultan Mehmed IV, aka ‘The Warrior.’

After a lengthy sea voyage, Mary and her five companions arrived at Leghorn (Livorno), northwest Italy. There she sought the help of the English Consul to arrange an audience with the Sultan. The consul quickly realized that such a meeting could result in political disaster for England, in no small measure because the English navy had just the previous year sunk nine of the Sultan’s ships, and too, that Quaker zeal was likely not a good match with Muslim propriety. The consul suggested that her quest was perhaps, unwise. Undaunted, Mary persisted until the harangued official relented; arrangements were made for Mary and her companions to board a ship, then in the harbour, that would take them to the Sultan.

Once underway, Mary discovered that she was the victim of a ruse; the ship was heading only for Venice. However, en route, a terrible storm drove the vessel well to the east of Greece. Mary saw an opportunity. She arranged with the captain for her group to England: Tales of a Time Traveler Part 1 1.25 disembark at Zante in the Greek islands. Mary had learned that the Sultan was not in Constantinople; he and his army were encamped at Adrianople on the modern day border with Greece. At Zante, the party of Quakers went separate ways, leaving Mary to make her way to Adrianople alone. For four or five weeks she walked through Greece, Macedonia and over the mountains of Thrace, relying on the freely given generosity of Greek peasants for food.

In the autumn of 1657, just prior to Mary’s arrival at Adrianople, the Sultan had decided to move his capital from Constantinople, a place he loathed and feared for its disloyal and mutinous elements, to Adrianople. With him came his court and his 20,000 man army, now camped on the outskirts of the city. Two thousand tents were arranged in circles along the banks of the River Moritza. It was a dazzling display of power. In the centre were the sumptuous, gold-embroidered tents of the Sultan Mehmed IV and his Grand Vizier, Köprülü Mehmed Paşa (1575-1661). These central tents together constituted a fabric castle complete with administrative offices, accommodation for pages, summer houses and of course, lavish dwellings for the Sultan and Grand Vizier. The opulence and magnificence of it all took the breath away.

The Sultan (1642-1693) was but sixteen at the time of Mary’s visit. He came to the throne at the age of 6, after his father was killed in a coup. Titles came with a risk. Young Mehmed IV had a rough start. When he was an infant, his parents had a violent argument. In a rage, his father tore him from his mother’s arms and tossed him into a cistern. The harem saved young Mehmed but he wore a scar to remind him that in his world, even family can become deadly enemies.

Mehmed IV came to power in the midst of turmoil. The empire was crippled with internecine struggles, failed foreign campaigns and a demoralized army. The Ottoman’s lost an important battle with the Holy Roman Emperor, Leopold I and a naval battle with the Venetians. Moral among his troops collapsed and the entire Ottoman army walked off. His mother realized that the Ottoman Empire itself was was on the edge of collapse, and that a strong and strategic Grand Vizier was required to retrieve control and reverse Ottoman fortunes. The man she chose was Köprülü Mehmed Paşa.

Köprülü Mehmed Paşa was the revered and feared chieftain of the Albanians,. Köprülü was a strong governor and a man of ruthless reputation. During his five years in office as Grand Vizier, Köprülü had 36,000 influential persons summoned to Constantinople and quietly strangled. By the end of the purge, not a man remained in the empire that could or would offer resistance to the Sultan. Beyond Köprülü’s accomplishments with a garrote, he destroyed the Venetian Fleet (1657), restoring the dominance of the Ottoman Empire in the Region. Enter Mary. Her challenge was to convince Köprülü to grant her an audience with the Sultan. There is no record of Mary’s interview with Köprülü. What we do know is that he heard her out, then advised the young sultan to see her. The following day, Mary, aged 35, was ushered into the throne room with all the pomp and ceremony of a visiting Ambassador. Ranks of servants, guards, eunuchs and pages surrounded the Sultan, all dressed in a splendour of gold-embroidered coats and feathered caps.

Amidst this riot of gold and scarlet stood Mary, dressed in a simple grey frock, her countenance quiet, her deportment confident, her face filled with intelligence, intention and the presence of God. Mary was received by the Sultan with kindness and deference — a sharp contrast to the treatment she had borne at the hands of her countrymen.

In the way of Quakers, Mary said nothing, waiting for the inward light to guide her words. There was an awkward silence. The Sultan offered to dismiss his courtiers, that Mary might feel more disposed to speak. She declined and at length, when the light came to her, Mary conveyed her message. All in the room listened carefully and with gravity until she was done. Then she asked the Sultan if he had understood her message. He replied “Yes, every word of what you have said is truth.”

The Sultan invited Mary to stay in Turkey, and when she declined, he offered her an escort to Constantinople, for the journey was treacherous. Again she declined and made her own way unimpeded. This plucky young woman, Mary Fisher, with her unwavering determination, courage and devotion inspired countless people across centuries to convert to and advance the Quaker cause.

__________________________

Relation: By probability

Mary’s birth year and place of birth are not known. There was, however, a large family of Fishers in Yorkshire in the 1650s. At the time, Mary worked as a household servant for the Tomlinson family. George Fox, founder of Quakerism, was invited to a social at the home to explain his ideas which Mary wholeheartedly embraced. Relative Mary Shackleton Leadbeater, in her Annals of Balitore, a Quaker village in County Kildare, Ireland, makes mention of a visit she and her father Richard Shackleton made to the home of their ‘primitive cousins’ in Selby, Yorkshire. On that basis, I believe Mary Fisher is probably related to Root Spriggs. Yet there is no proof of such.

Miniature Desk William Spriggs

Edited from a note written by Hester Spriggs (1905-2004). Find note below.

William Knight (1738-1801) is my 3rd great grandfather.  He was born, married and started a family in London, moving later to Worcester. He married Martha Tesseyman (1741-1816) in 1775. Martha’s family came from York, arriving in London in 1760, when Martha was 19. Hester Spriggs writes

“As Martha Tessyman (also Tessiman) entered London from York in 1760, the bells were tolling for the death of King George II, and the heads of the Scottish rebels were still impaled on the city gates.” (Note: the last Scottish rebellion was 1745!)

The Knights had one child Martha (1777-1866). Martha married William Spriggs (1776-1855) in 1813. About 1790, when William was 14, he built a miniature desk (in my possession) for his friend Martha (13), for whom we can assume, he had a deep affection. Twenty years later they married.

Papal Pinch

 

Sir Thomas Chaloner (1559-1615)

Relation: 10th Great Graandfather

Root Family: Spriggs

Early signs 

This story of the Chaloner family and Charles I is, beyond first glance, about the very beginnings of the British Empire — the popular revolt of the people and the creation of a commonwealth (albeit bungled), the trial and beheading of a monarch; the rejection of the Catholic Church with its power, wealth and corruption; the willingness to reach beyond Britain to the world at large for new opportunities and ways of doing things. The old order has cracks in its foundation. Change is in the wind.

The Chaloner family have Welsh roots which go back a thousand years to William the Conqueror. Princes and princesses lay in their family tree. Their expansive estate in Guisborough, Yorkshire, was a gift from King James I for the military support Thomas’s father, also Thomas Chaloner, provided in a successful campaign against the Scots. It is one of those ironies of history, I suppose, that the once magnificent Guisborough Cathedral, was built and funded by Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland on the very ground still owned today by the Chaloner family. Odd, as well, that the following happened which found the once-Royalist Chaloners firmly in the anti-Royalist camp.

Young Thomas was well educated and intellectual, and possessed a magnetic, affable personality and a noble bearing which allowed him to move with ease in high circles. He was a favourite of King James I, who paid Thomas a princely sum for overseeing the education of his son, Prince Henry, Prince of Wales. In 1580, aged 21, Thomas began making extended trips to Italy where he socialized with the nobility and with the learned men of the age. On his return, he quickly became a court favourite and married into an influential family.

On one of his trips to Italy, he visited the alum works in the Papal States. Alum was an economically important commodity in the day and Italy not only had high quality alum, it had plenty of it. Alum, short for ‘aluminum,’ was one of several naturally occurring salts. One form commonly used was aluminum sulphate. Alum was employed for preparing leather, for medicinal applications, as a dye fixative in cloth (of huge importance) and, not insignificant for the under-thirties dating crowd of the day, alum served as an under-arm deodorant.

The pope was no fool. He understood market economics. If you own all of something and everybody wants it, you will very quickly become filthy rich. He did — own it all and become filthy rich. At least he thought he owned it all. Thomas had a cousin, also Thomas Chaloner, who was a naturalist and student of geology. Thomas the naturalist had noticed that where alum deposits lie, a particular clay is found and that the leaves of the trees which grow there are discoloured. Now here’s the thing: Thomas the naturalist discovered several instances of this correlation on the Chaloner’s Guisborogh estate. In other words, he had found alum right on the Challoner property. Perhaps it was this naturalist Thomas who suggested that Thomas the courtier make a trip to Italy and visit the Pope’s alum mines. For if they could come up with a way to acquire the method for processing the alum ore, they could break the Pope’s alum monopoly and become wealthy men indeed.

As legend has it, when Sir Thomas visited the alum mine in Italy, he convinced two key mine workers (with hard, cold cash in hand) to hide in barrels and return with him to England where the men would set up an alum processing plant. Back in Yorkshire, When the Pope was informed of the ruse, he was outraged, issued a curse on Thomas and excommunicated him.

Back home, setting up the processing plant had its challenges but in time usable alum flowed out and the money flowed in. Word quickly got around about the success of the Chaloner alum plant. It got all the way back to King Charles I at the opposite end of England. Charles promptly took over the operation and earned a tidy sum for himself and an indelible place in the hearts of the Chaloners. Alas, regrettably for the king and fortuitously for the Chaloners, the king’s timing was bad.

The English Civil War, fought between the Parliamentarians (power to the people) and the Royalists (power held by the monarch) had just ended in favour of the Parliamentarians, headed effectively, by Oliver Cromwell, who, one year later, as head of the military, dismissed Parliament and declared himself absolute ruler. Cromwell was no monarchist. His view was to eliminate the monarchy altogether.

Charles I was charged with treason for taking up arms against his own people and for looking after his own interests at the expense of the nation. On the 20 January, 1643, the case was brought before the high court in Westminster Hall. The occasion was unprecedented. Never before had a king or queen been tried for a serious crime. A large crowd gathered outside the hall, pressed against partitions built to keep a resentful public at bay. Guards were everywhere in number. Lookouts were posted on every rooftop, every surrounding house and cellar searched. It was a scene from a modern-day American Inauguration.

The Sergeant at Arms rode into the Hall on horseback carrying the mace. Behind him rode six trumpeters. The trumpets blared; the onlookers fell silent. History was about to be made: “Hear ye, hear ye, in the case of …”

Charles was seated facing the members of the High Court. His heart must have skipped a beat to see, seated opposite him with other members of the high court, was Thomas Challoner, son of the Thomas Challoner who brought alum to Britain. Unluckily for Charles, the notion of conflict of interest was not a matter for consideration. The trial commenced.

Charles was less than a cooperative accused. Throughout his four appearances before the court, he refused to answer questions, repeatedly stating that the court had no jurisdiction to try him. Despite Charles unwillingness to cooperate, the result was never in question. The high court found in favour of the Parliamentarians. Charles was condemned to death by decapitation.  Much to his dismay, he was refused any final words and taken forthwith to the Tower of London. Seven days later, the outcome was announced: “guilty” and the death sentence declared.

Eleven years passed, Cromwell had died by natural causes, the republic had collapsed and King Charles II had been returned from exile in France and placed on the throne. Retribution was in order. The surviving regicides (there were 59 signatories on Charles death warrant) were rounded up and tried. Ten were condemned and executed. Three of the key regicides including Oliver Cromwell were exhumed and their heads placed on poles atop Westminster Hall. Cromwell’s remained there for twenty years. Two of Thomas’s brothers were also regicides. What happened to Thomas? With the Royalists back in the driver’s seat, Thomas became a prime target. He left England for Holland never to return. Alum, however, was in Britain to stay.

The rest of the Chaloner family remained untouched by Charles II, perhaps because of their strong Royalist roots and prior important roles they played on behalf of the crown. Gisborough Hall remains in the family today. It operates as a boutique hotel under the watchful eye of Lord Gisborough.