It is a pleasure to welcome Cheryl Butler as a new contributor to Historycal Roots. Cheryl is particularly knowledgeable about the history of Southampton and this is how she was introduced when she gave a TED talk in 2019:
She is a historian, writer, and former Head of Culture at Eastleigh where she worked on projects including Vital Villages, Legible Cities and the Partnership for Urban South Hampshire Culture and Quality Place group. Honorary Fellow of the University of Winchester and Fellow of the Royal Historical Association and has written extensively on the history of Southampton and is an editor for the Southampton Records and member of the Southampton Tourist Guides Association.
Her talk was about Southampton’s history in general (not specifically its black history) and you can see it here:
But she has also written about Southampton’s black history:
Telling other histories: Early Black History in Southampton c1500-1900
Currently unavailable on Amazon, you should be able to order a copy from your favourite local book shop, using isbn 978-0-9557488-6-8 or by e-mailing a_sannah(Replace this parenthesis with the @ sign)hotmail.co.uk.
Although we have not featured Southampton on Historycal Roots before it makes sense that it would have long had a black community of note. As a port, there were seamen, and where there were seamen there were black seamen. It was also home to wealthy individuals with extensive interests in the East Indies and the Caribbean, individuals some of whom most likely employed black servants.
Cheryl’s article for us focuses on one individual who makes a fleeting appearance in Southampton’s history. Very little is known of John Jackson before he was taken prisoner as a deserter and nothing is known of what became of him although we can be pretty sure his punishment would have been gruesome.
Now he has stumbled across some remarkable Pathé News footage on You Tube which shows a group of Ceylonese men (Cyril must surely be among them) marching to enlist in London in January 1916. It is black and white (obviously), silent and grainy (and you have to get past the irritating adverts at the beginning) but it gives us a fascinating glimpse of the men John wrote about:
John Ellis’s latest post features a soldier who was born in Mauritius, was conscripted into the British Army in February 1918 whilst working in Paris, saw active service with a Dorset regiment in Flanders and was attacked by a racist mob on the streets of London in April 1919. That shorthand introduction to the story of Robert Bissessur raises an intriguing series of questions but I want to focus here on the last part of the story.
The fact that there were ‘race riots’ (i.e. attacks on black people by racist white mobs) in Britain in 1919 is well documented. David Olusoga[1]Black and British – A Forgotten History is just one of many historians to write about the issue. Olusoga identifies nine cities where violence occurred. The first of the ‘riots’ took place in Glasgow in January, riots followed in South Shields, London (Docklands), Hull, Barry, Newport and Cardiff in south Wales and Liverpool. The riots in Cardiff were arguably the most ferocious (three men died) and those in Liverpool are possibly the best known – a Bermudan sailor, Charles Wootton (or Wootten), was hounded to his death in what Olusoga describes as a lynching. I have never previously seen Edgeware in London mentioned in this context and yet this is where Robert Bissessur and some fellow black soldiers were attacked by a mob.
The incident actually took place in Praed Street which certainly wouldn’t be considered ‘Docklands’ but is quite close to Paddington station and to the Paddington canal basin. Praed Street is little more than a stone’s throw from Cato Street, scene of the 1820 Cato Street conspiracy, on the other side of the Edgeware Road, and only a little north of the site of the infamous Tyburn gallows, so the area is steeped in history. By the 1830s Cato Street was said to be ‘full of the lowest class of Irish’ and when Charles Booth did his poverty survey in the 1890s they were still there.[2]Conspiracy on Cato Street – A tale of liberty and revolution in Regency London by Vic Catrell It is unlikely much had changed by 1919. So, we can safely assume the area would have been rough and ready by the time Charles and his fellow black soldiers visited.
The story of the riot featured in a number of newspapers, one going so far as to describe what transpired as having the hallmarks of an attempted lynching. John’s article includes an extensive quote from the African Telegraph and Gold Coast Mirror‘s 1st April 1919 edition but several other newspapers also carried the story.
John has also sent me newspaper cuttings that refer to an incident in Winchester near to the Army camp where white and black soldiers (like Robert Bissessur) were waiting to be demobbed. Clearly racial tension was widespread in 1919, just how widespread probably merits further discussion, for now, we will leave that for another day.
You can read John’s article about Robert Bissessur here:
In 2021 we published an article by John Ellis about Cyril Adolphus Stuart. Recently, John stumbled across a photo of Cyril and we have added it to the original article. Published in the Daily Mirror in its 8th March 1915 edition, the photo includes the King in the background (mounted, second right) and, in a separate picture, the Queen presenting Cyril with his prize.
The caption under the photo reads “King George, always at home with his soldiers, acted on Saturday as starter in the big military race run at Aldershot, when over 500 soldiers competed. The Queen very graciously presented the prizes. The race was won by Private Stewart [sic], a coloured soldier from Jamaica.”
Within six months Cyril was dead, he died of his wounds on 11th August 1915.
John Ellis has struck a rich vein recently and several new pages have been added to the site. In each case the men were identified as being ‘of colour’ on their official records and John has been able to identify the ships they served on. The men have in common their Caribbean (or Bermudan) heritage and that they served during the War, in some cases almost nothing more is known about them (always frustrating). But, in the past, we have been contacted by descendants of people discussed on this site, it is always gratifying and rewarding when this happens.
John’s recent articles are about:
Samuel Adolphus Clarke;
Edgar Jesse Forbes;
George Alexander Bartholomew Green;
William Edmund Smith; and
Cyril Waite.
Their experiences varied considerably – one died at sea when his ship was sunk, another survived when he was rescued after his ship hit a German mine, he and the three other men survived the War. You can read about them via the index page of this site:
21st October is the anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar and so we take the opportunity to remember the black sailors who served in Admiral Nelson’s fleet that day in 1805:
Cato doesn’t (yet!) have his own page on Historycal Roots but is mentioned in John’s article about the York Rangers where he has this to say about him:
The Fighting Temeraire, tugged to her last berth to be broken up
Although this painting depicts the Temeraire on her final journey rather than at the Battle of Trafalgar, it is a magnificent painting and seems a fitting way to close this post.
My wife and I recently took a day off from black history (or so we thought) to attend a talk at Croydon Parish church about the history of the building. Although we have lived in Croydon for a combined total of over 110 years we had, somewhat shamefully, never actually visited the Minster.
The Minster sits beside a couple of busy main roads. They say the camera doesn’t lie but with careful choice of angles it can certainly be encouraged to fib a bit!
What a charming rural vision – hopefully you can’t see the gigantic crane artfully concealed behind the tree and you certainly won’t be able to hear the traffic thundering by!
The talk by David Morgan was extremely informative and even people attending who already knew a great deal about the church learnt new things, we certainly did! It was at the end of the visit that we were unexpectedly ambushed by a little piece of black history.
David had left out some pictures that provided context to his talk. One of them featured a painting by John Singleton Copley, who is buried at the Minster and who David had spoken about during his talk. You should be able to see why this caught our attention.
‘Watson and the shark’ by John Singleton Copley, 1778
Although the ‘subject’ of the painting is Brook Watson, the youth flailing in the water, and, yes, ‘the shark’, a black man is given a very prominent position and the eye is immediately drawn to him. The National Gallery of Art (Washington) comments that his ‘prominent position in the picture and sympathetic rendering were extraordinary for the time.'[1]https://www.nga.gov/collection/highlights/copley-watson-and-the-shark.html
We felt prompted into some research with the following questions in mind:
who was Brook Watson?
Who was John Singleton Copley?
Who is the black figure given such a prominent place in the painting?
Brook Watson
The painting depicts an actual event in the life of Brook Watson. Born in Plymouth, Devon, in 1735, he was orphaned at the age of six and sent to live with an uncle and aunt in Boston, Massachusetts. Later he became a crewman on one of his uncle’s ships and, at the age of 14, he took the unwise decision to go for a dip in the harbour at Havana, Cuba. He was attacked by a shark which on its second attack took off his right foot, it was coming back to finish the job when a group of Brook’s shipmates combined to fend off the shark and rescue young Brook.
Watson survived the attack and, although his right leg had to be amputated below the knee, after three months convalescing in Havana he was able to carry on with, what turned out to be, a very successful, if not altogether blameless, life.
He clearly must have had a good head for business as by the age of 15 he had a role in supplying provisions to the British Army at Fort Lawrence in Nova Scoria and he quickly advanced to become a commissary, a key role in the supply chain that he fulfilled for General Wolfe at the Siege of Louisbourg. In 1758 he returned to London to carry on his career as a merchant, something he did with great success.
On her visit to London in 1773 the acclaimed black American poet, Phillis Wheatley, was introduced to Watson and he gave her an edition of ‘Paradise Lost’ by John Milton. On her return to America Phillis was granted her freedom and she suggests that her ‘friends in England’ played a part in this:
was presented with a Folio Edition of Milton’s Paradise Lost, printed on a Silver Type, so call’d from its elegance, (I suppose) By Mr.Brook Watson Mercht. whose Coat of Arms is prefix’d. — Since my return to America my Master, has at the desire of my friends in England given me my freedom. The Instrument is drawn, so as to secure me and my property from the hands of the Executrs. adminstrators, &c. of my master, & secure whatsoever should be given me as my Own. [2]https://www.masshist.org/database/viewer.php?item_id=771&img_step=1&mode=transcript#page1
In spite of his small gesture, which he could well afford, we gain a rather different insight into Watson’s character from an American businessman and politician, Ethan Allen, who accompanied him on a voyage to England in 1775. Allen wrote that he:
“was put under the power of an English Merchant from London, whose name was Brook Watson: a man of malicious and cruel disposition, and who was probably excited, in the exercise of his malevolence, by a junto of tories, who sailed with him to England …”[3]Allen, Ethan (1838). A Narrative of Colonel Ethan Allen’s Captivity, Written by Himself, 3rd. ed., Burlington, Vermont.
Watson was one of the founding members of Lloyds (and later became its chairman), a banking and insurance company. The company directly profited from the slave trade as it insured the ships that transported enslaved people across the Atlantic. Furthermore, Watson wrote in 1789 that he supported the slave trade and that it needed to remain in place for the benefit of the economies of the colonies.[4]https://philliswheatleyldn.wixsite.com/philliswheatleylondo/post/sir-brook-watson
Watson was appointed to be the Director of the Bank of England in 1784, he was a Member of Parliament from 1784 to 1793, became Lord Mayor of London in 1796 and was granted the title of Baronet in 1803.
A stellar career but of course it was built on rotten foundations. Perhaps he did not personally own slaves (his personal and business papers have not survived so we do not know) but Watson is described repeatedly as a ‘merchant’ and there really can be little doubt that, either directly through personal investment in the voyages of slave ships, or indirectly, through his role as one of the founders of Lloyds, he owed his wealth and position to the trade in enslaved people or in the goods their labour produced.
John Singleton Copley
Copley was born in Boston, Massachusetts in either 1737 or 1738. His father died when John was young and it was probably his stepfather, an engraver and painter, who taught him the rudiments of his art. Young John quickly excelled and even while still a teenager became a sought after painter of portraits in the Boston area and beyond.
But these were dangerous times in Boston, were you a Loyalist (on the side of the British colonial authorities), or a supporter of independence? Copley’s family were mostly in the Loyalist camp (his father-in-law was one of the merchants who had a consignment of his tea dumped into Boston harbour during the so called Boston Tea Party) and Copley himself was threatened by a mob who suspected him of sheltering a Loyalist. Copley himself had some sympathy with the cause of independence but generally kept his head down.
Knowledge of Copley’s ability spread and he was urged to move to England which he eventually did in 1774. He had immediate success and ‘Watson and the Shark’ was just one of many impressive paintings he made in these early years in London. In 1783 he was elected as a full member of the Royal Academy and members of the royal family were among those who sat for him.
In later years his powers declined and he increasingly relied on loans from friends to maintain his home in London’s fashionable Hanover Square. He died on 9th September 1815 and was buried in Croydon Minster.
The black sailor
As is usually the case in situations like this we are not going to be able to identify this black sailor.
But was he painted from ‘life’, in other words did an actual black man have his image painted by the artist, or is he simply a generic ‘black man’ who existed only in the artist’s imagination? In the absence of documentary evidence we can only go by the look and feel of the image. To our eyes this is not a cartoon caricature (unlike the shark – Copley had never seen an actual shark and it shows!). Copley, based in Boston, Massachusetts for many years would certainly have seen black men (and, following his marriage, he had enslaved people in his own household in Boston), and of course there was a significant black population in London too.
The outcome of the American War resulted in the establishment of a large American loyalist community, both white and black.[5]https://www.oldbaileyonline.org/static/Population-history-of-london.jsp#a1760-1815 The best estimate of London’s black population at this time is around 5,000 to 10,000 out of a total population that was probably still a little under a million. Edward Long, a leading pro-slavery campaigner, suggested a figure of 45,000, a deliberately inflated number designed to frighten the English into believing they could be swamped by idle blacks freed from enslavement.
The case that Copley knew a black man and used him as the basis for this painting is strengthened by another painting of his.
‘Head of a Negro’ , 1777 or 1778, John Singleton Copley
This is a very lifelike representation of the face of a black man and must surely have been based on a living person known to Copley. His art was commended for his ‘startling likenesses of persons and things’ and this is a fine example.
Whether a black sailor was involved in the actual rescue of Watson is unknown, this is after all an artefact, a painting created many years after the event, not a photograph. Various sources state that infra red analysis of the painting shows that the black man in the shark painting was originally painted as having blond hair and fair skin. We cannot know what prompted Copley to paint out the original white sailor and replace him with the black man we see in the finished picture but it is true to say that everything that appears in a painting is there because the artist wanted it to be there, the presence of this black man was the result of a very conscious decision.[6]https://artincontext.org/watson-and-the-shark/ It has been suggested that Copley was making a point in favour of the abolition of slavery, after all, it is the black sailor who is holding the rope that could, literally, be Watson’s lifeline.
Copley was living in London at the time and would have seen black people as he went about his business either as servants in the houses he visited whilst doing his social rounds or destitute on the streets of the city. The ‘black poor’ in London reached the ‘something must be done’ stage in 1785 just a few years after this painting was made and in 1786 several hundred ‘volunteers’ were sent to establish a colony in what is now Sierra Leone, an ill-considered venture which led to almost all of the settlers dying within the first two years of reaching Africa. The names of those who were candidates for the venture can be seen on lists that are held at the National Archives in Kew.
Although we are stepping beyond the bounds of ‘history’ here and into the territory of ‘speculation’, it is certainly possible that the man who served as the model for Copley’s black sailor was among those on these lists.
The ‘Head of a Negro’ wasn’t the only painting in which Copley placed a black man at the centre of the action. In ‘The Death of Major Peirson’ (1783) a black servant of the Major is seen firing a rifle at those who have killed his master. The black servant of auctioneer James Christie (founder of Christie’s auction house) was the model for the figure in the painting.[7]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Death_of_Major_Peirson,_6_January_1781
The Death of Major Peirson (detail), John Singleton Copley, 1783
Conclusion
Portraying black men in such prominent roles really was exceptionally unusual at the time these paintings were made and we can’t help but believe that ‘The head of a Negro’ painting brings us face to face with one of the black men who lived in London in the 1770s and 1780s.
John Ellis’ latest article covers the short-lived existence of a ‘black’ regiment in the British Army, the York Rangers, that was operational from 1803 to 1805. In addition to telling the story of the regiment, John gives us an insight into his research methods.
The trigger that fired the ‘starting gun’ for John’s work was a comment he spotted in an August 1803 newspaper report (the on-going, rapid digitisation of old newspapers is a real boon for any historian), ‘Colonel Stevenson is raising, for the use of the West Indies, a Regiment of Lascars, Mulattoes &c’. The paper went on to comment that the Regiment might help tackle the problem of destitute black men on the streets of London who were in ‘the most deplorable and disgusting state of distress.’
John then identified that the ‘musters’ for the York Rangers (essentially the list of those on the payroll) were still in existence and could be viewed at the National Archives at Kew. Living in the north of England meant John would be unable to see the musters in person for some time but, for me, Kew is a short train journey away. I was only too happy to help him out (I could happily spend every day of my life at Kew, it is a wonderful resource and completely free to use). In truth my role was that of a humble photographer, here is just one of the many photos I took:
Givins’ Troop
There were dozens of photos like this which gives you an idea of the challenge John faced. If you find it hard to read the names, trust me, the originals are little better!
These photos gave John the names of many black soldiers previously ‘lost’ to history, his next task was to cross-check the names against the various databases available on, principally, Ancestry and findmypast – painstaking work which yielded some ‘hits’. Just how his work panned out can be seen here:
History is not set in stone, it moves on as our knowledge and understanding of the past grows. There is plenty more to be found out as my photos covered only a sample of the material and there are other names on other pages that, for now, remain hidden from view.
Introducing the latest article for Historycal Roots by John Ellis.
This is such an interesting one and something of a departure from John’s usual field. As he himself says, this is ‘the first time in over twenty years of researching, writing and educating’ he has written a historical article about a female, let alone a ‘woman of colour’. Let us hope it is the first of many!
This is an important subject because, again, as he comments, the voices of women of mixed heritage like Mary Ann Aguirra are rarely heard. They are marginalised by virtue of class, gender and race. I enjoyed history at school but it was very much white history, dominated by white men and men of a particular class at that. It was only many years later that I came to understand how much more varied (and interesting!) British history is.
There are many ways of viewing the story that unfolds of Mary Ann Aguirra and her daughter, Isabella. I choose to see it as a case of a tightly knit working class community coming together and resisting threats to their way of life and livelihood, more about class than race (though that might also have played a part). But I freely acknowledge that there are other ways of reading the incidents played out at the Old Bailey in September 1866. However you read the story it is hard to dispute that Mary Ann Aguirra was a determined and formidable woman. Although we don’t have an image of Mary Ann herself there is a photo of one of her grand daughters and I like to think that we can see something of her grandmother’s character in it.
Isabella Howell, 1880-1960 (reproduced courtesy of Paul Mady)
History isn’t just about ‘facts’, it’s about interpretations too. You can read John’s article here and make up your own mind about the events, but the story of Mary Ann’s appearance at the Old Bailey is only one aspect of a thought provoking article:
John is in more familiar territory with a second recent article. In this one he identifies John Charles as ‘the last Black drummer’ in the British Army to have served at the time of the campaign against Napoleon. Charles left the Army in 1845 and died in 1862:
You might expect ‘The Oxford Companion to Black British History’ to be an authoritative source. You might… However, it’s entry for the Empire Windrush has this to say:
‘when the Empire Windrush sailed on 24 May, there were 492 passengers (and six stowaways) on board.’
The only correct part of that is the date she sailed – but only if you ignore the departure from Trinidad on 20th (24th was the date she left Jamaica).
A common myth is that the ‘492’ were all men and all Jamaican. The ‘Companion’ doesn’t fall into that trap, it says that ‘most of the passengers were young adult men’ which is true, ‘most’ were. But it does gloss over the presence of many women (over 250, almost 25% of the passengers), a fair number of children (80) and some family groups.
Let’s be charitable and point out that the ‘Companion’ was first published in 2007, things move on (even history!) and we learn more. We know a lot more now than we did fifteen years ago.
Our latest contribution on the subject talks about some of the families on the Windrush, you can read about them here:
Although we are stepping beyond the bounds of ‘history’ here and into the territory of ‘speculation’, it is certainly possible that the man who served as the model for Copley’s black sailor was among those on these lists.
