The Hawkhurst Gang of Smugglers

This post is the second in a two-part series on smuggling. The first, about Thomas Johnstone, smuggler, privateer, and all-round Jack-the-Lad, can be found here.

Smuggling has inherited a somewhat romantic reputation. Whilst some who participated in the smuggling of contraband did so as whole communities just wanting items to make their lives a little better, there were others who enjoyed the power and violence that came along with it. One of the most notorious gangs that fell into this category was the Hawkhurst Gang who largely operated on the Kent and Sussex coast. Their reign of terror involved violence, torture and extortion. They certainly weren’t the type of men you’d like to meet on a dark night, especially not when they were on the job.

Smuggler shown at different stages and points of his chosen profession, Public Domain, Wellcome Collection.

The Hawkhurst Gang took their name from the Kent village of Hawkhurst, which is close to the border with East Sussex. They operated from 1735-1749 and mainly sold their contraband around Kent and Sussex and even took items up to London. At their height, it has been claimed that they could call on up to 500 men to help them distribute a haul.[1] It also helped that there were churches and pubs along the route that could easily stash contraband if necessary.[2] The area of Kent they frequented was marshland, which also meant it was hard for revenue men, who may not be as knowledgeable about the lay of the land, were put off from searching the area for goods that were hidden in what was known as ‘hollow ways’, or patches of dry land accessible along the marsh if you knew where to look.[3]

All of these circumstances, along with the rule by fear and terror that the Hawkhurst Gang operated in, meant that the members had begun to think themselves somewhat unbeatable. With the amount of profit flooding in, so much so that the brothers who ran operations, Arthur and William Gray, were both able to acquire and build large houses, it is easy to see why.[4] Even more so when the level of violence and force against citizens, customs officers and other smugglers began to increase.

Richard Earlom, 1743–1822, British, Smugglers Attacked, ca. 1793, Color mezzotint, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection, B1977.14.11095.

It is no wonder then, that the citizens of the villages of Kent, in the gang’s heartlands, had had enough by April 1747. The villagers of Goudhurst decided to stage a rebellion to try and remove the gang’s influence over their community. This rebellion was led and organised by William Sturt, a local militiaman. The group that formed was to be known as the Goudhurst Band of Militia.[5] Unfortunately, the gang had heard rumours of this group being formed against them and kidnapped and extorted the truth from a villager who was involved in order to find out detailed plans that were being formed.[6] In retaliation, the Hawkhurst Gang threatened to burn down the entire village. Even these threats didn’t deter the fed up villagers. Instead, they stood firm and barricaded the village and armed themselves in preparation for the showdown that was to come.[7] The strong fight the villagers put up actually put the gang members into retreat, especially as they managed to kill three of them.[8] The villagers of Goudhurst had won the day!

It was instances like this that was to mark the beginning of the end for the Hawkhurst Gang. Their acts of violence, intimidation, extortion and threat that had only increased in the 1740s had gone too far. Citizens and authorities had just had enough. In fact, it was these types of actions that would ultimately mean their downfall and disbandment, starting in October 1747, when some of the members were returning from the Channel Islands with a cargo of tea, but were caught by a revenue clipper, which took the men and their goods to Poole in Dorset.[9]

A Representation of ye Smugglers breaking open ye King’s Custom House at Poole from E. Keble Chatterton, King’s Cutters and Smugglers, 1700-1855 (London: George Allen & Company, 1912)

The goods were seized for the contraband they were and taken to the Customs House for confiscation. Of course from the Hawkhurst perspective, this act against them by the revenue men couldn’t go unpunished and they made plans to recover the confiscated tea. Around 60 armed men were gathered to make the raid on the Customs House, half as lookouts and scouts, the rest were to recover the tea. They had managed to successfully complete their mission as they had supplied enough men to scare off any opposition.

Even though the gang had recovered their tea, it was not the end of this saga, even if they thought it was. Months later, two men, a revenue man named William Galley and Daniel Chater, a shoemaker who had identified one of the gang members known as Diamond, who had been arrested and jailed at Chichester. The pair had been travelling to identify Diamond when the Hawkhurst Gang caught up with them at an inn. There was no getting out of it alive for Galley and Chater, who were both taken from the inn, tied to horses and taken back to the gang’s heartlands. Galley was killed and placed in a hastily dug hole in woods, where as Chater was tortured prior to being killed by being hanged from a well. Both of these were brutal murders.

Title page of a book covering the trial (1748-1749), Wikimedia Commons

The gang must have thought they had gotten away with things because despite concerns as to what might have happened to the men, nothing could pin their disappearances on them. That was until an anonymous letter, probably from a local with a conscience, was written, giving the exact location of Galley’s body and who had done it.[10] The net began to close in and 9 men were arrested, with some turning evidence in an attempt to save their own necks at the special assizes put on in Chichester to try the smugglers.[11] Further members were later executed too. Two, including Thomas Kingsmill, brother of one of the gang members killed in the Goudhurst rebellion, was hanged at Tyburn in London, but his body was brought back to Kent, with his putrid body being placed in a gibbet for all to see and take warning from.

It was this last act of major violence that ended the gang and quite rightly too, but sadly it meant the end for Galley and Chater in such a terrible way. There were other smuggling gangs, but not many as large or violent as that of the Hawkhurst Gang, but they are an example of exactly why smuggling was definitely not the romantic profession that has been somewhat passed down to us.

[1] Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler: Fact and Fiction (Barnsley and Philadelphia: Pen and Sword, 2019), p. 50

[2] Ibid

[3] Bexhill Museum, ‘Smuggling Gangs’, https://www.bexhillmuseum.org.uk/access-centre/smuggling-in-bexhill/smuggling-gangs/

[4] Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler, p. 50

[5] English’s Reminiscences of Old Folkestone Smugglers and Smuggling Days (Folkestone: John English, 1888), p. 72

[6] Ibid

[7] Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler, p. 51

[8] English’s Reminiscences of Old Folkestone, p. 72

[9] For what follows, please see English’s Reminiscences of Old Folkestone, pp. 67-71

[10] Portia Tremlett, ‘The Hawkhurst Gang’, The Novium Museum, https://www.thenovium.org.uk/article/28843/The-Hawkhurst-Gang

[11] Ibid; English’s Reminiscences of Old Folkestone, pp. 70-71

Thomas Johnstone: Smuggling Extraordinaire

It’s been a while since I wrote a post about criminal history, one of my favourite subjects, so I decided this month will be a short two part series on smugglers, who I haven’t really covered in previous criminal posts. This first post is on Thomas Johnstone, a smuggler whose life is hard to distinguish from fact or fiction, but is astounding all the same. In fact, his life could easily have come from an adventure novel. The next post will be about the Hawkhurst Gang, a group of smugglers who dominated the coast of South-East England, named after their base of Hawkhurst in Kent. You can view this here.

Now, back to Thomas Johnstone. He was born in Lymington on the Hampshire coast in 1772. He was known for his good looks and for being over 6 feet tall, so he must have been a sight to behold. Perhaps it was his appearance that somewhat helped in the smuggling career he would later go on to have. By the age of twelve, Thomas already knew how to sail a boat thanks to his fisherman and smuggler father, so much so that by fifteen, he was smuggling himself.[1]

Sketch of the smuggler, Thomas Johnstone, taken from the frontispiece of Scenes and Stories by a Clergyman in Debt: Written during his confinement in the debtors’ prisons, Vol. 2 (1835), by Frederic William Naylor Bayley

By the age of 21, Thomas had become a privateer (a state sanctioned pirate) to fight the French, but was later captured by them. However, he was such a smooth talker and was able to negotiate his release on the promise that he would become a spy for the French, being sent off in a boat with letters to pass on for his captors.[2] Upon his return to England, he was press ganged into the Royal Navy, but he deserted and returned to his previous smuggling skills.[3]

Smuggling was of course a dangerous game, even for someone as wily as Thomas was. By 1798, he was again imprisoned for his smuggling antics and an incident with the revenue men.[4] He was held at Winchelsea Prison but just as before, he made an escape by bribing the gaoler. From Winchelsea, Thomas was able to make safe passage to the Netherlands, where he lived somewhat underground for around a year because he had been declared an outlaw.[5]

Still, always one to see an opportunity for money making, Thomas offered his services to the Royal Navy to help boot the French out from the Netherlands, hoping this would work in his favour. Is there any doubt that it did? Well not really as he was paid £1,000 (around £44,000 in today’s money) and a pardon for his assistance. With his newfound pardon and fortune, he was able to move to London, but in his usual style, Johnstone was unable to stay out of trouble for long. In 1802, he was imprisoned in the Fleet Prison, the famous London debtors prison, for a large £11,000 (around £484,000 today) debt.[6]

The Fleet Prison, London: the courtyard, with prisoners playing racquets while others stand and talk, engraving by Fleming, Public Domain via Wellcome Collection

Whilst at the Fleet, Thomas was placed in what was known as a strong room to hold dangerous prisoners as he was recognised from his smuggling background. Due to his previous charges, it was thought it would be best to transport him to the even more infamous prison of Newgate.[7] Before Thomas could be transported though, he made yet another escape. He managed to break parts of his cell door off and used a rope ladder to scale the prison wall, although he was reported to have injured himself in the process.[8] Upon the discovery of his escape, the watchman was imprisoned himself for probably helping Thomas to escape.[9] It was clear that Thomas was not just capable, but would have had friends to help him make all these successful escape attempts and to move between countries so easily. Although it is probable he was also able to change his appearance enough to remain undetected.

We next catch up with Thomas in France, where he was involved in plans to smuggle gold from England to France to help pay for Napoleon’s many campaigns. It is said, although there is no way to corroborate these claims, that Napoleon himself asked Thomas to help with his plans to invade England, but when he refused, Thomas was imprisoned for nine months.[10] Upon he released, he moved to America, where he became acquainted with Robert Fulton, an inventor and steamboat investor.

Diagram of Fulton’s ‘Nautilus’ in William Barclay Parsons, Robert Fulton and the Submarine (New York: Columbia University Press, 1922)

Fulton was famous for his early submarine known as the Nautilus, which he ended up building himself in 1800 after being unsuccessful in persuading the French to invest so they could use it as a weapon against the British.[11] Johnstone supposedly nearly drowned in an early demonstration of the submarine, but also helped Fulton in his first ‘limpet mines’, which were an early form of torpedo, that he tried to get the British to use against the French.[12]

Despite what was a fascinating life, although some of Johnstone’s exploits may be somewhat exaggerated, amazingly, he died peacefully at the age of 67. Still, whatever the truth may be, he certainly did escape from prison many times, which in itself is an impressive feat. Perhaps someone ought to make a good period drama about Johnstone’s life, it would certainly be dramatic!

More on smugglers in part two of this short series on the aforementioned Hawkhurst Gang.

[1] Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler: Fact and Fiction (Barnsley and Philadelphia: Pen and Sword, 2019), p. 119

[2] Ibid

[3] Ibid

[4] Ibid; ‘Escape of Johnston, the Smuggler, from Fleet Prison’, Sussex Advertiser, 6 December 1802

[5] ‘Escape of Johnston, the Smuggler, from Fleet Prison’, Sussex Advertiser

[6] Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler: Fact and Fiction; Lymington Harbour, ‘History of Lymington’, https://www.lymingtonharbour.co.uk/history-of-lymington

[7] ‘Escape of Johnston, the Smuggler, from Fleet Prison’, Sussex Advertiser

[8] Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler: Fact and Fiction

[9] ‘Escape of Johnston, the Smuggler, from Fleet Prison’, Sussex Advertiser

[10]Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler: Fact and Fiction

[11] Britannica, ‘Robert Fulton’, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Robert-Fulton-American-inventor

[12] Helen Hollick, Life of a Smuggler: Fact and Fiction

Charlotte von Siebold: Midwife of Victoria and Albert

Today we are surrounded by male and female doctors who can all offer a range of experience and knowledge. For any women in the process of pregnancy or labour, it is a worry as to who is around you, looking after you and your child. For royal women at this time, it was common to be attended on by male royal physicians, but for Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, Duchess of Kent, she somewhat broke with that tradition by having a German midwife, Charlotte von Siebold, who was more than qualified to be attending the birth of the all-important heir to the British throne. Who was this midwife and what exactly made her so pioneering?

Charlotte von Siebold (circa 1920), Wikimedia Commons

Charlotte von Siebold was born as Mariane Theodore Charlotte Heiland in September 1788, but was always known as Charlotte. Her father died when she was young and her mother, Regina Josepha, remarried to the doctor Johann Theodore Damian von Siebold, who adopted his new wife’s two girls from her first marriage. It was in this environment that both Regina and her daughter, Charlotte, were actively encourage to participate in Johann’s practice. Regina herself was hands on with patients and became a doctor and obstetrician in her own right, qualifying just a few years before Charlotte would later do.[1]

Before all this though, Charlotte, as a teenager, was allowed access to the anatomy and physiology books, as well as practical lessons.[2] In 1811, she began attending lectures on obstetrics at Gottingen University given by the leading obstetrician, Johann Friedrich Osiander. Three years later, Charlotte received her license to practice from the Grand Ducal Medical College in Darmstadt, meaning she could now take on her own patients. Her pool of patients grew just a year later when her mother had a carriage accident, leaving her unable to look after her clients, albeit possibly briefly.[3] Still, this was Charlotte’s chance to build up a reputation for herself in a physical capacity.

Johann Friedrich Osiander (1787 – 1855), Wikimedia Commons

In 1817, Charlotte was awarded a doctorate based on her 23-page paper on ectopic pregnancy and the issues for both mother and doctor that this possessed. Her former tutor, Osiander, openly criticised the paper by saying “pregnancy became women better than writing about that condition”.[4] Obviously not a glowing review from him then! That didn’t stop patients from recommending her services though, which is perhaps more important. Charlotte’s first high profile birth was that of Prince Ernest, the elder brother of Prince Albert, Queen Victoria’s future husband, in June 1818. Once the heir to Saxe-Coburg had been safely delivered, other prominent German families came forward as patients.[5]

The year of 1819 was probably the pinnacle of Charlotte’s career as she delivered two more important babies, who’s lives would be forever linked, that of the then Princess Alexandrina Victoria, who would grow up to be Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert, her future husband. As many prominent German families had already used Charlotte’s services, it is clear this was how the German born Victoria, Duchess of Kent, learnt of Charlotte’s good reputation. Charlotte was brought over to assist the birth at Kensington Palace and the pressure was on. George IV was heirless. His only daughter, the much loved Princess Charlotte, had died after a terrible labour and birth of a stillborn child just a year before. She had been attended by male royal physicians, which were seen as to blame for the events.[6]

Princess Victoria, Duchess of Kent and Strathearn; Queen Victoria by William Skelton, after Sir William Beechey (1823), © National Portrait Gallery, London

The Duchess of Kent must have thought that by bringing in an accomplished female midwife would help in her own labour in May 1819. As tradition stated, two male royal physicians were in attendance in case they were needed. They were Dr David Daniel Davis, a Welsh doctor who was part of a royal maternity charity, and Dr Wilson, the personal physician of the Duke of Kent, who had been with the Duchess for much of the pregnancy.[7]

After the safe delivery of Princess Alexandrina Victoria, rumours abounded that whilst Charlotte had helped to deliver the child, there had been complications in labour, which meant Dr Davis had had to intervene. These were not true, for Charlotte had excitedly announced from the delivery room that the child was a beautiful, but rather chubby little girl.[8] Within three months, Charlotte was back in Germany delivering Prince Albert in August 1819.

Louise of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg, duchess of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, with her children, Albert, future husband of Queen Victoria, and Ernest (c.1823-1824), Schloss Ehrenburg, Coburg via Wikimedia Commons

Even after these important births, Charlotte continued her work, even after marrying Andreas August Heidenreich, a doctor at the Darmstadt military hospital in 1829. Not only did she continue to deliver babies herself, she taught other female midwives and patronised charity hospitals. Nor did she only deal with upper class births, Charlotte was always concerned with the experiences poor women had to deal with in labour, often having to give birth in awful and dirty conditions. For this reason, she took her findings and concerns to the relevant authorities.

In 1845, Charlotte proposed the idea for a new state maternity hospital that would provide adequate and clean services for poor women to give birth in. This opened the same year under the direction of her and her now elderly mother.[9] By a twist of fate, the same year the hospital opened, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert visited Germany. Their old midwife was presented to them, which must have been an emotional meeting for all involved. From this meeting, both Victoria and Albert offered financial supporters and patrons of the hospital.[10]

The hospital remained Charlotte’s focus until her death in 1859, but it continued long after, only closing in 1948. In that time, it is impossible to number how many births the institution would have seen, all thanks to Charlotte’s work. She is remembered in many other ways, especially in Darmstadt where she practiced for most of her life. Today, Charlotte is honoured in her former university at Gottingen, where a program named Heidenreich von Siebold after her has supported female scientists towards becoming university lecturers.[11] Thankfully her legacy has meant that she has had the last say when it comes to her former tutor’s criticism that “pregnancy became women better than writing about that condition”, especially as she not only wrote, but safely delivered babies and looked after their mothers for a great many years, just as the hospital she set up continued for nearly 90 years after her own death.[12]

[1] Marilyn Ogilvie and Joy Harvey (eds), The Bibliographic Dictionary of Women in Science, Volume 2 (New York and London: Routledge, 2000), p. 1193.

[2] Alumni Gottingen, ‘The Queen’s Midwife’, https://www.alumni-goettingen.de/news/geburtshelferin-der-queen-geschichtsstunde/?lang=us

[3] Helen Rappaport, ‘Charlotte von Siebold: The Pioneering German midwife who delivered the future Queen Victoria’, https://helenrappaport.com/queen-victoria/charlotte-von-siebold-midwife-delivered-queen-victoria/

[4] Ibid

[5] Ibid

[6] Ibid

[7] Ibid

[8] Ibid

[9] Ibid; The Bibliographic Dictionary of Women in Science, p. 1193.

[10] Helen Rappaport, ‘Charlotte von Siebold’

[11] Alumni Gottingen, ‘The Queen’s Midwife’

[12] Helen Rappaport, ‘Charlotte von Siebold’

Mary Beale: One of the First British Female Professional Artists

There has often been a lack of recognition of professional female artists in the past, possibly because when compared to their male counterparts, they were a rarity. It was common for women to paint as a hobby, but not necessarily for business. In seventeenth century Britain, there are in fact only three named female artists, Joan Carlile, a portrait artist and Susannah Penelope Rosse, a miniaturist and Mary Beale, who this post is about. Compared with the other two women, Beale has a large body of work that survives, albeit that the majority are held in private collections and museum storage.[1] Still, she holds two titles, she is the only female artist of her era to have a self-portrait in a national institution in Britain, the National Portrait Gallery, and one of her adult homes survives, making it the oldest known artist’s residence to still survive.[2] Despite this, how did she become one of the first professional female artists in Britain?

Self Portrait of Mary Beale (circa 1666), © National Portrait Gallery, London

Mary was born as Mary Cradock in Barrow, Suffolk, four miles from Bury St Edmunds, in 1633. Her father, John, was the minister at the village church, and her mother, Dorothie, died when Mary was ten. Her father allowed her a humanist education and was an amateur artist himself, so he is most likely to be the one who taught his daughter to paint.[3]

Marrying Charles Beale, a government worker, in 1652, Mary moved to London. During her marriage, Mary was able to continue painting as a hobby. She mostly painted portraits of family and friends, possibly as gifts.[4] Mary is mentioned as a painter in Sir William Sanderson’s Graphice… or The Excellent Art of Painting, so we know that she was definitely painting in the 1650s on a wider scale, but not yet in a professional capacity. Still, this shows that her reputation as an accomplished artist was already known before her decision to turn professional.[5]

Charles Beale the Elder by Mary Beale (circa 1660), © National Portrait Gallery, London

In 1670, Charles lost his well paid job as Deputy Clerk in the Patents Office, meaning Mary had to become a professional painter in order to look after her family.[6] This was an unusual position to be in for the family. It is not often that women were the sole breadwinner for a family, but Mary was actively encouraged by Charles, who was her studio assistant, who also purchased supplies and handled the accounts.[7] It is thanks to his meticulous notebooks that we know of Mary’s work. He recorded information on her commissions, payment details and working practices, amongst other things.[8]

Mary’s London studio was based in Pall Mall, close to St James’ Palace, quite convenient for her client base of aristocracy, middle-class landowners and clerics.[9] Mary’s popularity only grew thanks to her friendship with Peter Lely, who was court painter to Charles II. It’s uncertain as to how they became acquainted, but she was allowed to observe him in his studio and he lent her many of his painting for her to copy in order to replicate his style.[10] This must have paid off as her fees were £5 (just under £570 in today’s money) for a head and shoulder portrait, and £10 (around £1,100 today for a three-quarter length portrait, similar fees to lesser male artists at the time.[11] At the peak of her popularity, Mary was able to earn £439 (just under £50,250 today) from 83 commissions in 1677.[12]

Self Portrait of Sir Peter Lely (circa 1660), © National Portrait Gallery, London

Sadly, Mary’s popularity as an artist had become integral to Peter Lely, meaning that when he died in 1680, her reputation dwindled and she took less commissions between then and her own death in 1699. Whilst she enjoyed some admiration from art critics after her death, she has largely been derided for her dependence on Lely as it has been viewed that this stifled her own creativity and artistic development.[13] This, alongside most of her work not being on display, is probably why her works have largely gone unrecognised by the wider public.

Thankfully though, that reputation has started to be altered as it has been acknowledged that Mary was able to be successful in a man’s world. This is probably because her husband, and later two sons, were her assistants, meaning that she was able to cross the public and private spheres in a way that merged the both together.[14] Bury St Edmunds, close to where she lived as a child, has also begun to recognise her talents. The Manor House Museum there is the largest collection of her work on public display, which I hope will continue for many years to come.[15]

[1] Helen Draper, ‘Mary Beale and Art’s Lost Laborers: Women Painter Stainers’, Early Modern Women 10.1 (2015), p. 141

[2] Ibid

[3] Ibid, p. 143

[4] Rosemary O’Day, ‘Family Galleries: Women and Art in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries’, Huntington Library Quarterly, Vol. 71, No. 2 (2008), p. 337

[5] Helen Draper, ‘Mary Beale and Art’s Lost Laborers’, pp. 143-144

[6] Christopher Reeve, ‘Mary Beale’, in Delia Gaze (ed), Concise Dictionary of Women Artists (London and New York: Routledge, 2011), p. 172; Rosemary O’Day, ‘Family Galleries’, p. 324

[7] National Museum of Women in the Arts, ‘Mary Beale’, https://nmwa.org/art/artists/mary-beale/

[8] Christopher Reeve, ‘Mary Beale’, p. 172

[9] Rosemary O’Day, ‘Family Galleries’, p. 324; Helen Draper, ‘Mary Beale and Art’s Lost Laborers’, p. 145

[10] National Museum of Women in the Arts, ‘Mary Beale’

[11] Christopher Reeve, ‘Mary Beale’, p. 172

[12] Ibid

[13] Ibid, p. 173

[14] Helen Draper, ‘Mary Beale and Art’s Lost Laborers’, p. 144

[15] Christopher Reeve, ‘Mary Beale’, p. 173

Book Launch details at Masson Mills in Derbyshire

Since October, I have been working as a Visitor Centre Assistant at Masson Mills, between Matlock Bath and Cromford in Derbyshire. It is one parts of the Derwent Valley Mills World Heritage Site, which features a number of mills that were the first examples of the modern factory systems in the world.

I’m pleased to say that I will be having a book launch for my debut book, Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer, which will consist of a talk and book signing, at Masson Mills Visitor Centre on Saturday 16th March between 11am and 1pm. It will be free entry, so it would be great to see as many of you there as possible. However, there is a pay and display car park on site, with one hour refunded with any purchase in the Visitor Centre.

For those of you who would like to know a bit more about the history of this mill, Masson, like its neighbour, Cromford, was built by the wig maker turned cotton spinning giant, Richard Arkwright, which opened in 1783. Its brick façade shows the site was to be Arkwright’s showpiece mill and took power directly from the River Derwent it sits on the banks of.

Entrance to Masson Mills

By the turn of the nineteenth century, both Cromford and Masson between them employed around 1,100 people, a huge number compared with other mills at the time. Whilst it has been added to since Arkwright’s time, after it was taken over by the English Cotton Sewing Company in 1897. It continued as a working mill until November 1991, thus ending 206 years of production.

The original mill building is still in existence. It now houses a conference centre and textile museum, featuring all sorts of machinery that have been salvaged from textile mills from around the country.

Statue of Sir Richard Arkwright in Masson Visitor Centre

It also has offices for Derwent-Hydro, a company run by the Needle brothers who now own the site, which until the pandemic was mostly a shopping centre. They reopened the Visitor Centre, Museum and conference space back in July 2023.

Masson Mills Visitor Centre

The Visitor Centre, which I currently work in, is a mixture of a shop and cafe area and can be found at the front of the building. It sells a variety of textile themed items, including some salvaged from parts of the mill. We even have the string and fabric produced from the machines in the museum for sale.

If you have a chance to, I would really recommend our machine demonstrations or guided tours. Our usual tour guide, Kevin, is wonderful and is very knowledgeable about the machinery. I have been on a guided tour myself and can wholly say, despite not being interested in the technology per say, Kevin made the hour long tour very enjoyable.

Some of the items for sale using string made on machines in the museum

At the moment, we are running the machinery demonstrations on Thursdays and Fridays between 1pm and 3pm. Prices as follows: £6 for adults, £4 for under 16s and free for under 5s. This will be running until March. Guided tours are still available for groups of 10 or more but do have to be pre-booked. If you would be interested in a tour, the contact details you can book through can be found at the bottom of this post. Daily guided tours for the public should hopefully be up and running again after Easter, so keep an eye out for further details on that.

The opening times for the Visitor Centre are Monday-Friday 11am-4pm. We have snacks and drinks available alongside our lovely shop. We also have a large onsite car park, which is housed in the newest part of the site. This can be paid for using an app, or using the pay station on the bottom floor. If you have any issues with paying, please let the Visitor Centre know.

Information on Masson Mills:

Website: https://www.massonmills.co.uk

Address:

Sir Richard Arkwright’s Masson Mills Derby Road Matlock Bath Matlock Derbyshire DE4 3PY

Telephone: 01629581001

Email: info@massonmills.co.uk

Charles Dickens and the Staplehurst Train Crash

If you are a regular reader, you will know that Charles Dickens is my second favourite author, after Jane Austen of course! I have been lucky to spend a lot of time in Kent on holidays, immersing myself in the county that meant to much to Dickens, where he often found himself the happiest. Despite this, it was also scene of one of his most traumatic experiences in his life, the Staplehurst train crash of Friday 9th June 1865. It is this horrendous event that would play on Dickens for the last five years of his life.

On that day, Charles Dickens was returning from a holiday in Paris with his mistress, Ellen Ternan (you can find a blog post I wrote about her here), and Ellen’s mother. Their relationship was a huge secret, despite it being public that Dickens had separated from his wife, Catherine. The train that the party were taking to London was known as a tidal train, a train that was used by passengers also using ferries to take them between London and the continent, via Kent.[1] There was no warning as to what lay ahead as repairs were being made to a bridge over the River Beault near Staplehurst, nine miles away from Maidstone.

Photograph of Ellen Ternan, Wikimedia Commons

The bridge in question was made from a mixture of cast iron, brick and timber. The reason for the repairs was because the timbers were prone to rotting due to exposure, meaning they had to replaced every so often. This was what was being done at the time of the crash, creating a 42 feet gap that workers were working on replacing.[2] Unlike now, there were no safety measures in place for trackside workers, or systems to easily monitor where trains were. This is what made this situation a highly dangerous one.

The foreman in charge was Henry Benge, who had worked on the railway for many years with no issue prior to the crash at Staplehurst. His trustworthiness had been the reason why he had been promoted to the foreman. As soon as the scheduled 2:45pm train had passed, Benge announced to his team that it would now be safe to start taking the tracks on the bridge up, for the tidal train wasn’t due until 5:24pm. That would be plenty of time to get the work done.[3] However, Benge had read this time from the Saturday timetable, not the Friday one. The tidal train was in fact due at 3:19pm.[4]

Without realising this error, the team set to work. A man was sent further down the tracks with red flags to wave as a warning to stop at any possible train coming. He was also given what was known as fog signals, small detonator type things that would make a noise if a train ran over them, alerting a driver to danger ahead. These signals were never used, for the man in charge of them thought they were meant for foggy weather, not as a warning signal. He was also not as far down the track as he had been instructed to be, meaning that when the tidal train came, the driver only had just over 500 feet to stop in.[5] With such a long train and the momentum, this was impossible, despite whistling twice to alert the brakemen to apply the brakes.

Illustration of the Staplehurst Train Crash, London Illustrated News (1865), Public Domain

When the train reached the bridge, the engine and the first few carriages had managed to bridge the gap by sheer momentum. The rest, other than a few towards the rear of the train, ended up in the river bed. The only first class carriage to bridge the gap was the one that Charles Dickens was in, albeit derailed at a slight angle.[6] Ellen was the only one of the party to receive minor injuries, meaning they were able to get out of the carriage safely.

The horror that they saw was unimaginable. As Dickens himself would later recall, ‘no imagination can conceive the ruin of the carriages, or the extraordinary weight under which the people were lying, or the complications into which they were twisted up among iron and wood, mud and water.’[7] Still, Dickens did what he could to help those dying and injured over the next three hours whilst waiting for help to come. He retrieved a flask of brandy he’d been travelling to offer around, as well as filling his top hat with water. One injured woman he offered his brandy to was dead within minutes of partaking.[8]

Photograph of Charles Dickens (1868) by Gurney in Project Gutenberg ebook of Appreciations and Criticisms of the Works of Charles Dickens

In total, ten people died and forty were injured in the crash. People had to be held accountable for this disaster. Harry Benge, the foreman, and his supervisor, Joseph Gallimore, were charged with manslaughter. At trial, Gallimore was acquitted, with Benge receiving nine months imprisonment. Upon release, he worked as a farm labourer, until the guilt of what happened at Staplehurst made him mad. He died in the Kent County Asylum in 1905.[9] The train driver, whilst not responsible for the accident, was dismissed for it was claimed he could have seen the red flags before he had done.[10]

Dickens himself didn’t immediately noticed the effects it would have on him mentally, but they would be significant. When help did arrive, he remembered that a working copy of the latest instalment of Our Mutual Friend was still in the train carriage.[11] He managed to retrieve it before leaving for London. It was only the day after, when he was back home at Gads Hill Place, just three miles outside of Rochester in Kent. It was then he told the landlord of the village pub that he ‘never thought I should be here again’.[12] It was obvious the trauma was starting to set in. In fact, it would stay with him until he died five years later, on the fifth anniversary of the crash, 9th June 1870. Charley, Dickens’ eldest son, commented that his father ‘may be said never to have altogether recovered’, for he often had panic attacks and was scared to travel afterwards.[13] We would now recognise that Dickens was suffering from a form of post-traumatic stress disorder, which probably did help to contribute to his continual overwork and death.

‘The Apparition’” by Sol Eytinge, Junior Dickens’s Additional Christmas Stories (1867 edition), Image scanned by Philip V. Allingham via The Victorian Web, https://victorianweb.org/art/illustration/eytinge/176.html

A year after the crash, Dickens produced The Signalman (1866), a ghostly short story that may not have been produced without the events of the Staplehurst crash. It tells the story of a signalman who works at a remote signal box near the opening of a tunnel. He is visited by a traveller, whom the signalman shares about a ghostly apparition he has seen prior to bad accidents. The story reflects Dickens’ own helplessness in saving people’s lives, despite his best efforts, just as had happened at the crash site.[14]

The Signalman is actually one of Dickens best ghost stories and captures the concept of internal turmoil and possible mental health issues very well. It is obvious how Dickens own experiences influenced this story, just as with much of his other writings, but it reinforces the idea of this fairly new transport being incredibly dangerous for staff and passengers alike. I hope you have a chance to read it within the context that Dickens wrote it, whilst remembering the other victims of the Staplehurst train crash.

[1] The Charles Dickens Page, ‘Charles Dickens, Henry Benge, and the Great Staplehurst Railway Crash’, https://www.charlesdickenspage.com/staplehurst-railway-crash-1865.html

[2] Charles Dickens Info, ‘Charles Dickens and the Staplehurst Railway Accident’, https://www.charlesdickensinfo.com/life/staplehurst-railway-accident/

[3] The Charles Dickens Page, ‘Charles Dickens, Henry Benge, and the Great Staplehurst Railway Crash’

[4] Ibid

[5] Ibid

[6] Charles Dickens Info, ‘Charles Dickens and the Staplehurst Railway Accident’

[7] Charles Dickens quoted in The Charles Dickens Page, ‘Charles Dickens, Henry Benge, and the Great Staplehurst Railway Crash’

[8] Charles Dickens Info, ‘Charles Dickens and the Staplehurst Railway Accident’

[9] The Charles Dickens Page, ‘Charles Dickens, Henry Benge, and the Great Staplehurst Railway Crash’

[10] Ibid

[11] Charles Dickens Info, ‘Charles Dickens and the Staplehurst Railway Accident’

[12] University College Santa Cruz, ‘The Staplehurst Disaster, 9th June 1865’, https://omf.ucsc.edu/dickens/staplehurst-disaster.html

[13] Ibid

[14] Oldstyle Tales Press, ‘Charles Dickens’ The Signal-Man: A Detailed Summary and a Literary Analysis’, 20 November 2018, https://www.oldstyletales.com/single-post/2018/11/20/charles-dickens-the-signal-man-a-two-minute-analysis-of-the-classic-ghost-story

Interview with Jo Romero, author of Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses

I am so pleased to welcome back Jo Romero, a friend and follow history blogger. You can view her previous posts on a riot, dog and the George Hotel in Reading here, and Reading During the wars of the Roses here. Her debut book, Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses is due to be published at the end of this month. This is a project of Jo’s that I have had the privilege of knowing for a while and was lucky enough to help her on Elizabeth Scales, first wife of Anthony Woodville

Jo has been obsessed with history for as long as she can remember and gained her History degree at the University of Hull. She has been published in The Historians magazine and runs the blog Love British History where she shares articles, travel stories and historic sketches.

  1. Tell us a little about yourself. 

I’m a history lover and artist, and I write over on the blog Love British History. I love finding ‘lost’ or ‘forgotten stories, like finding a name on a brass while visiting a church and then trying to find out about that person’s life.

Ellen Gethin, wife of Thomas Vaughan, who shot the man who murdered her brother with an arrow.

2. How did you get into writing?

I used to be a food blogger! I wrote for different websites and did recipe development and photography for about ten years. But history has always been my first love. Around 2019 I started up the blog as I was visiting these amazing places and finding out historic events and I wanted to share them. I’ve also written for the C Word Mag and The Historians Magazine. In 2020 I lost my sense of taste and smell after Covid, and it hasn’t come back 100%, so I took it as a sign from the universe to concentrate on my history.

3. I know you’re an artist as well, what came first, writing or art? Do you find they inspire each other for you?

Both probably came about at the same time. I remember being about five years old in my Primary School library and just being fascinated about a book on dinosaurs. The idea that there was a time before this one just had me really captivated, and I just soaked up all I could on past queens, kings and castles. I’ve always loved drawing, too. I definitely find that one inspires the other. When I draw my building portraits – old churches, pubs and houses for example – I love to try and convey a sense of character, including all the little touches that tell the tale about what that building has been used for. And in my history writing, I’ve created portraits of some of the people I’ve researched, often based on descriptions during their lifetimes or on effigies.

Reading Abbey

4. Do you have a favourite time period?

I love anything really from the Saxon period all the way to around 1750. I think the Medieval and Tudor periods are my favourite – there was so much going on, reading the history of that period is like a real-life Game of Thrones!

5. Tell us more about your upcoming book.

Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses is all about the women that we don’t hear much about, women that worked and lived through the fifteenth century conflict. I found some fascinating stories that challenge the idea that women quietly did embroidery or read books while their husbands went to war. There was so much involvement of women at all levels of society, from innkeepers to secret agents and queens. The idea came about from an article I wrote in April 2021 for The Historians Magazine on a few forgotten women of the period, but there was so much room to explore further and delve deeper into the historical sources. I travelled around the country visiting some of the women’s homes, their workplaces and churches, and that was quite emotional! I’ve always loved women’s history – my dissertation at university was on the different roles of women living in Medieval Yorkshire, and it was great to be able to revisit the subject on a wider and deeper level.

Anne Neville, wife of Richard III

6. Are you working on something at the moment? If so, can you spill the beans a little?

Yes! I’ve almost finished writing my second book for Pen and Sword Books, on the Tudor period. I can’t reveal too much, but it will be a new look at some of the characters we know from the period. I also have a number of events coming up, some art exhibitions in Reading and Caversham this summer and my sketching. It’s a really exciting time, but I’m busier than ever. It’s all good.

You can find Jo on the following socials, where you can also look out for updates on her book.

www.instagram.com/sketcherjoey (art)

www.instagram.com/lovebritishhistorypics (history)

www.facebook.com/lovebritishhistory

https://twitter.com/LoveBritishHis1

www.youtube.com/@lovebritishhistory

Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses is published by Pen and Sword Books and will be available from end February 2024. https://www.pen-and-sword.co.uk/Forgotten-Women-of-the-Wars-of-the-Roses-Hardback/p/24403

Anthony Woodville US Kindle Pre-order and Upcoming Talks Update

It’s not long now until my debut book, Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer is published on 15th February. I recently received my author copies, which still feels a little surreal. For me, it feels even more surreal that I have been booked for a few book signings, two local to me and another in Ludlow, where Anthony spent a lot of the last ten years of his life looking after his nephew, Edward, Prince of Wales, the future Edward V. This will be an entirely new experience for me, so I hope it goes well. Here is a list of Anthony themed events I’ll be doing so far:

  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer talk book signing at Masson Mills, Matlock Bath, Derbyshire, Saturday 16th March 2024, 11am-1pm
  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer book signing at Castle Bookshop, Ludlow Market Place, Saturday 23 March 2024, midday-1:30pm
  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer book signing at Wirksworth Heritage Centre, St John Street, Wirksworth, Derbyshire, Saturday 20 April 2024, further details TBA
  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer? – Talk for Wirksworth Heritage Centre, St John Street, Wirksworth, Derbyshire, Friday 26th April 2024, 7:30pm
  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer talk and book signing at Derby Museum and Art Gallery, The Strand, Derby, Saturday 11th May
  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer? – Talk for Towton Battlefield Society, Saxton Village Hall, Saxton, Yorkshire, Monday 13th May 2024,
  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer? – Talk for the Richard III Society’s Notts and Derbys group, All Saint’s Centre, Huthwaite, Nottinghamshire, Saturday 8th June 2024, 2pm
  • Anthony Woodville: Sophisticate or Schemer? – Talk at Castle Bookshop, Ludlow Market Place, Friday 14th June 2024 6pm

I know that a few of you regular American followers have been asking when it will be available over in the US. Whilst I don’t yet have any official release date, I know that is available to pre-order on Kindle version via Amazon, so if you are able to access that, I hope it will be a good way to keep you going for now. You can find that following this link here. I will of course update if a proper publication date is released.

I have also been invited to be a guest on a few podcasts, so I will do a post at some point with links to all of those when they’re available. I would like to thank all of the hosts who have invited me, it has been a huge honour and is certainly not something I expected, which makes it feel so even more.

I also have some other talks booked this year, which is great. My next one is on one of my favourite historical women, Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle, a pioneer in science and literature. The details of this are below.

Review of Mistletoe for Felicity: A Regency Romance by Sally Britton

I’m sorry that this review of a Christmas themed novella is being posted at the end of January, but I had actually bought this as a Christmas present for my sister. She kindly has let me borrow it after she had finished reading it between Christmas and New Year. I really enjoyed it, so I thought I would post a review despite now not being the Christmas period. I must admit, she was reading it at our house of Christmas and just couldn’t put it down. Now I can entirely understand why as I was exactly the same.

This book attracted me as it is a good old-fashioned Regency themed romance. No sex, just pure love and romance. Entirely up my street! I don’t normally go for this type of book because despite being a lover of all things Regency, I know there are many books of this type that are more like ‘bodice rippers’, which I feel deviates from the Jane Austen style that I prefer. However, Mistletoe for Felicity really did live up to the Austen emulation that I hoped it would. It tells the story of Felicity Winters, a lady of high standing who has recently lost the last surviving member of her family. She enters an arranged marriage with a merchant’s son, Theodore Harcourt, affectionately known as Tad. Both must see if this new arrangement brings the love they are both searching for.

Understandably, they both start the marriage feeling very awkward, but their new home of Winterway and the local community they find there help the couple to come closer together. This makes it all the more endearing as the sense of friendship, community and eventually love just seem to jump out of the pages. The author really does create a warmth that endears the reader. If you’re looking for a book that feels like a cosy night under a warm blanket with a hot chocolate or cup of tea in hand, then this is it. I can see how some readers may say this is incredibly sentimental or sickeningly sweet, but for me, that is exactly what I was looking for. Think of a Hallmark Christmas film (which is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine), but in book form.

Both Tad and Felicity’s feelings of uncertainty and the growth towards true love are explained so well and it is so easy for the reader to imagine the circumstances they are living in. They do have insecurities, as we all do, but the way it was portrayed felt very human as both Tad and Felicity wanted to help each other work these out for the improvement of their relationship. The tenderness that only grows throughout the story is just a joy to encounter. The setting of Christmas time is a wonderful setting to explore this. The addition of snuggling in a warm sleigh, skating or building snowmen is utterly heart warming.

For me, I liked the inclusion of an almost magical painting of the village connected to the house. It added intrigue but also connected Tad and Felicity with the past owners, the Deerwoods, who do seem rather mysterious but were well loved by the locals. The author hints at the end of the book that the Deerwoods might feature in future writings as well, so I do hope to keep an eye out for that.

If you are looking for a quick read that will fill your heart with warmth, I would totally recommend giving this a go for next Christmas. It is a light hearted and romantic read, perfect for readers, like me, who are hopeless romantics with a taste for the Regency. After reading some books lately which didn’t live up to expectations, it was a delight to read something that exceeded what I thought of it. All round it’s a beautiful story.