We bring a very productive year to a close (34 new pages by my reckoning) with two new pages on very different subjects. Before introducing them, I must thank our contributors for their efforts. John Ellis is responsible for a lot of this year’s new content. John’s remarkable work is casting new light on the black presence in the British Army and Royal Navy in the 19th century and also in the trenches during World War One. But others, Audrey Dewjee and Bill Hern, have played their part too. Audrey can take particular pride in her work on the story of Bertie Robinson, the black servant at Harewood House who featured in a major exhibition there. Bill and I helped with an exhibition too, it celebrated some of the London Borough of Newham’s pioneering black footballers – it’s surprising how much black history you can work into a talk about football!
John Ellis’s latest discovery is the story of a black Royal Navy sailor called John Johnson. His marriage certificate, dating from 1846, cites his father’s occupation or profession as ‘negro slave’ – a very unusual entry on an English certificate. The marriage ended in tragic circumstances. John doesn’t speculate as to the underlying cause of the argument that led to the death of Mary Johnson but I can’t help but wonder whether racism played a part. Read the article and make up your own mind:
The second new page features Horace Halliburton, a man of the Windrush generation (although, in fact, he arrived on these shores before the Windrush). Horace played a leading role in the Causeway Green riots of 1949, as a peacemaker. You may not know about the Causeway Green riots and it’s very unlikely you will have heard of Horace. I started researching him hoping to discover an unsung hero and, to an extent, I did, but his life story turned out to be much more complicated than I expected. You can read about Horace here:
When I first met Audrey Dewjee I remember being puzzled that she described herself as a ‘researcher’ rather than as a ‘historian’. I had never really given much thought to the distinction between the two and it isn’t my intention to indulge in a debate here. But what I will say is that Audrey’s latest article for Historycal Roots illustrates the work of a ‘researcher’ who is diligent and dogged, following leads and sticking at it for many years to uncover previously untold stories. You can find the fruits of Audrey’s painstaking work here: https://www.historycalroots.com/discovering-black-history-in-wales/
For me, this is ‘history’ but, regardless of what we call it, it is a fascinating glimpse into a black presence in North Wales that dates back to the latter years of the seventeenth century.
If history consists of facts, then the role of historians is to present the facts. But there are so many facts that historians must choose which ones to present (or omit) and, in making their choice, they create a narrative. The nature of the story they tell is of necessity influenced by their interests.
The question in the title of this post is prompted by John Ellis’s latest contribution to Historycal Roots where he comments that he is playing his part in ‘showing that the presence of such men [of colour] was more widespread than critics of attempts to recognise their contribution would have people believe.’ John is one of a number of historians (he cites Stephen Bourne and Ray Costello as two examples) who are seeking to redress the balance by researching hitherto untold stories of the black contribution to British history.
There is little doubt, as John suggests, that not everyone is happy with this approach and the epithet ‘woke’ would be tossed in their direction as a criticism. I don’t doubt that ‘woke’ can be defined in a variety of ways. One definition I have seen is that woke is ‘a concept that symbolises awareness of social issues and movement against injustice, inequality and prejudice.’ Personally, if I was ‘accused’ of peddling ‘woke history’, I would be happy to accept the ‘charge’.
I recently had the pleasure of eavesdropping on a presentation that David Olusoga gave to a group of black educators (he was on zoom and I happened to be in the room when a legitimate participant was listening – these things happen!). I am always impressed when I hear David speak and I was intrigued by his discussion of the abuse he is subjected to on social media. Clearly this must be an unpleasant experience but he said he regards it as a sign of success – people are hearing a different version of history to the one they are used to and they don’t like it. The message that British history is not and never has been exclusively white is getting across. David said he was confident that the arguments would be won and that, in the future, people would wonder what the fuss had been about.
This reminded me of a short film I saw at the BFI (British Film Institute) on London’s Southbank when I popped in for an hour or two to shelter from the rain. The film, dating from 1958, featured interviews with a range of people discussing the then vexed topic of mixed marriage. Some of the views expressed were predictably repulsive but the last contributor, Lord Stanhope, opined that in fifty years’ time people would wonder what all the fuss had been about and that mixed marriages would be seen as entirely normal. Perhaps I am unduly influenced by living in London, but my perception is that Lord Stanhope has been proved correct while the repugnant views (extreme even by the standards of the time) expressed in the film by James Wentworth-Day, have pretty much returned to the primeval sludge where they belong. Although the film can be viewed free if you visit the BFI it seems you have to pay to view it online:
I should also draw your attention to another recent article by John tracing the naval career of John Addoo from Africa to his final resting place in Brockhurst, Hampshire. A career that encompassed the transition from sail to steam: https://www.historycalroots.com/from-sail-to-steam-john-addoo-1795-1855-an-african-in-the-royal-navy/ . It was remiss of me not to mention this article at the time of its publication.
I hope you enjoy reading both of John’s new contributions.
Those who enjoy John Ellis’s articles on the historical black presence in the British military will be delighted that he has turned his attention to another regiment. This time he has identified a number of black men who served in the 3rd King’s Own Dragoons.
All too often when we see black figures depicted in paintings they are anonymous or on the periphery in an obviously subservient role, not so Henry McGilchrist. You can read about Henry (and see what he looked like) and some of those who also served in the 3rd King’s Own Dragoons here:
This post alerts you to two new pages, both articles by John Ellis, that have been added to our site recently. These two articles illustrate the rich diversity of the black contribution to British history (as does virtually all the content on the site!).
My initial reason for visiting Harewood House was to see the exhibition about the life of Bertie Robinson that I have written about elsewhere, but I was lucky enough to get a ticket for a black history walk around the house and grounds.
My tour guides were none other than Pablo Fanque and his charming wife Susannah. This was quite something as Pablo died in 1871 and Susannah pre-deceased him in 1848. Pablo (actually Joe Williams, founder of Heritage Corner) and Susannah (Vanessa Mudd) took us on a whirlwind tour of black history that encompassed Egypt, the three west African trading empires of Ghana, Songhai and Mali and much more besides, before returning us to York and Harewood.
When I was working I used to feel that if I learnt one thing on any course I attended it had not been a complete waste of time. This walk certainly passed the ‘one thing’ test with plenty of room to spare.
I will focus here on one story that was new to me (apologies to those who are familiar with it). It concerns ‘ivory bangle lady‘. whose remains were discovered during an excavation in York in 1901. She gains her name from one of the bangles she was wearing. One of her bangles was made of jet, a stone that can be found in Yorkshire, but the bangle fashioned from ivory clearly had a more exotic origin.
It was evident that she was a wealthy woman from the jewelry and other items buried with her. It also seems likely that when she died (in her twenties) in the second half of the 4th century AD she was a Christian as a message carved in bone was found in her grave: “Hail, sister, may you live in God”.
A reconstruction of the face of ‘ivory bangle lady’
Scientific advances since 1901 mean that far more is now known about her. She has been identified as of mixed heritage with at least one parent from north Africa. Applying the same scientific techniques to the remains of others in the same burial ground suggests that maybe 10% of the population of Roman York were of similar heritage. Perhaps you were aware of that but, for me, it was a revelation.
Returning to Pablo Fanque (real name William Darby), I had heard his story before but it was good to hear again about his remarkable life. The fact that he was born in Norwich in 1810 surprised me when I first heard about it but since then I have become more and more aware that the black presence was not restricted to major cities like London, Liverpool and Bristol but could be found in the countryside too. The evidence for this wider black presence can be seen not just in references in newspapers but in paintings and illustrations that date at least as far back as 1658 and may feature in a future post.
Pablo Fanque was a circus impresario and the walk took its name from a great storm that engulfed Pablo’s circus during a show at Harewood. The dramatic description of the storm reminded me of an event I attended recently where we were caught in a flimsy gazebo during a downpour of epic proportions.
Sadly, Susannah died when she was hit by falling beams when a gallery collapsed in the building where the circus was performing but Pablo soldiered on.
My one disappointment?Anyone familiar with the Beatles song Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite might reasonably have expected to see a bear, sadly no bears were in evidence! Apart from that, top marks to Joe and Vanessa for an entertaining and informative walk.
If you are in the Leeds area it would be well worth going on a future Heritage Corner walk and you can find out more here: https://heritagecornerleeds.com/
If you visit Harewood House without the advantage of a car, be warned, it is a fifteen minute walk from the main entrance on the A61 Leeds to Harrogate road before you reach the house itself – that gives you an inkling of the scale of the estate. As I approached, I found myself wondering how many enslaved people you would have had to own to be able to afford to build a house like this?
The house was completed in 1771 when the family moved in.
At the time of emancipation in 1833, the 2nd Earl of Harewood claimed compensation for 1,277 enslaved people and received over £3 million at today’s prices. That Harewood House owes its very existence to profits from the trade in enslaved human beings is beyond question.
Not all the owners of country estates are willing to be open about the roots of their family fortune but the present Earl does not shy away from his family’s history:
“I believe very strongly that we can change things in the present, but for better or for worse there is nothing that any of us can do about history and the past.”
David Lascelles, Earl of Harewood
In ‘the present’, the Harewood House Trust supports a wide range of educational projects and it was one of those projects that prompted my visit.
If you are a regular follower of Historycal Roots you will be aware of Bertie Robinson, the black footman at Harewood House. Until the 22nd October an exhibition about Bertie will be on display at the house.
The digital guide doesn’t include any images of ‘downstairs’ at Harewood, an area of the house that Bertie would have been very familiar with.
The kitchen range
The downstairs dining room
The exhibition was researched by members of the Diasporian Stories Research Group based in Leeds. The principal researchers were Audrey Dewjee and Allison Edwards with support from David Hamilton. Members of staff at Harewood threw themselves enthusiastically into the research, finding all sorts of things in Harewood’s own archives that enhanced Bertie’s story (‘they throw nothing away here’ as one of the volunteers on duty when I visited said). A former Harewood House Trust Director, Terry Suthers, helped too. It was a real collective effort which has paid handsome dividends.
Nothing can quite beat seeing an exhibition ‘in the flesh’ so to speak and there is plenty more to see and do at Harewood. Although I resisted (just) the temptation of a cream tea on the terrace overlooking the grounds designed by Capability Brown, there is no reason why you should!
This post owes its existence to a talk given by Pat Candlin at a ‘Guyana Speaks’ event. The monthly events regularly feature interesting presentations which, as the title of the sessions indicates, focus mainly on Guyana. Pat’s talk was about his book (co-authored with Cassandra Pybus) ‘Enterprising Women – Gender, Race and Power in the Revolutionary Atlantic’.
The gap between buying a book and actually reading it can be quite long but, having recently got round to it, this one is very thought provoking for a number of reasons.
How often do we bemoan the absence from the history books of stories about strong, successful and independent women of colour? This book has many such stories.
However, a health warning is necessary. The women featured in the pages of the book were all operating in the southern Caribbean at a time of great political turmoil under conditions that bear comparison with what we know as ‘the wild west.’ This was frontier territory, with islands like Grenada and Trinidad changing hands following tussles between the competing colonial powers of Britain, France and Spain. British Guiana came into existence after Britain seized Demerara, Essequibo and Berbice from the Dutch in 1796. The problematic feature of these women’s stories is that they all owned slaves, in some cases many of them. Having been enslaved themselves, or being the daughters of women who were, their route to riches involved the enslavement of others.
British writers of the time were quick to stereotype women of colour, perhaps some things haven’t changed as much as they should have done over the past two hundred years.
Betsey Goodwin was the woman who ‘shared the bed’ of George Ricketts after he became Governor of Barbados in 1794. An early historian of Barbados, John Poyer, writing in 1808, suggested Betsey’s position encouraged other members of the free coloured community who had ‘assumed a rank in the graduated scale of colonial society to which they had hitherto been strangers.’ He also suggested that, because Betsey was believed to have encouraged the Governor to allow prisoners to go free, other free coloured people had ‘boasted of the impunity which they could obtain through the influence of Betsey Goodwin.’ Betsey was described as ‘sly and insidious’ and this became a familiar stereotype. Enslaved black women and women of colour had much to gain from associating with a powerful white man, if they played their cards right they could gain their own freedom and that of their children. It suited contemporary writers to portray them in a very negative light.
Another common stereotype was that of the black (or mixed heritage) brothel keeper. Rachael Pringle Polgreen is one such person and we have a supposed likeness of her.
Rchel Pringle Polgreen – 1796 lithograph by Thomas Rowlandson
Whether this unflattering image or ‘likeness’ is an accurate portrayal is very much up for debate. It is a lithograph by Thomas Rowlandson dating from 1796. Rowlandson could have met Rachel on the one visit he made to the Caribbean but the lithograph was created when he was back in London (five years after Rachel’s death) and based on a drawing by another, un-named, artist. It is a caricature that fits well with the stereotype that the British were happy to perpetuate. As the authors of the book say, the caricature ‘played to the powerful cliches that had enveloped Caribbean women by the end of the eighteenth century.’ For example, writing in 1806, Dr.George Pinckard wrote that the typical tavern keeper in Barbados was a ‘mulatto woman … who now indulges in indolence and the good things in life, grows fat and feels herself to be of importance to society.’
The few known facts about Rachel’s life give a far more nuanced picture. There were white men at various stages of her life but it is clear that she had a strong entrepreneurial spirit and was a shrewd businesswoman. The (long) list of her belongings at the time of her death was, Candlin and Pybus assert, ‘just the kind of inventory one would expect of a wealthy white person in Barbadian society at the time.’ This list included her main property which was valued at £1,000 (£154,000 at today’s prices) and 38 enslaved people, six of whom she chose to grant their freedom.
The story of the Philip clan starts in provincial France where, some time in the 1750s, a baker, Honore Philip, decided to seek new opportunities in the Caribbean. With his two brothers he settled on the small French colony of La Grenade. Two of the brothers chose to settle on the tiny outlying island of Petite Martinique while the third settled on the main island of Grenada. Why they located here is not known but they were soon thriving producing cotton and indigo.
By 1760, Honore had married ‘Jeanette, a free negro woman.’ The authors speculate that his relationship with her started while she was enslaved and that he gave her her freedom at the time he married her. This sort of behaviour was sanctioned by the Code Noire, the ‘rules’ that governed how French colonisers were expected to treat the local black poulation.
At some point in 1770s Honore died and Jeanette became the sole proprietor of his extensive estates. In 1778 a visitor wrote that all the land of Petite Martinique – some 477 acres – was ‘jointly owned by Jeanette Philip and a number of her mixed race children.’ Contrary to the stereotype, Jeanette did not succumb to ‘indolence’ but continued to expand her property empire with vigour. When she died in 1788 the estate was divided among her children, among them a daughter, Judith. There are many twists and turns to the story of Judith Philip, including ten years living at a fashionable address in London, which cannot be covered here, suffice to say that she lived until 1848 and died a very wealthy women.
The book gives some information about the extent of the Philip family’s ownership of enslaved people. But the details are all to be found on the Legacy of British Slavery database https://www.ucl.ac.uk/lbs/search
Looking at the records for Judith Philip alone shows her ownership of enslaved people on three estates on Grenada.
Number enslaved
Compensation
Petit Ance Estate
64
£1,499 18 shillings 6 pence
Susanna Estate
68
£1,558 8 shillings 5 pence
Grand Ance Estate
143
£3,456 17 shillings 5 pence
Judith Philip’s slave holdings on Grenada
The total compensation claimed by Judith Philip was £6,515 4 shillings 2 pence, about £866,000 at today’s prices according to the Bank of England inflation calculator.
As an aside, I couldn’t resist putting ‘Gleave’ into the database search box. I know there was a Gleave on Barbados in the 1860s but he was a Methodist minister at a time when Methodists were still extremely unpopular with the plantocracy because they gave the until recently enslaved people ideas above their station. It is a relief to know that the name Gleave does not appear in the ‘Legacy’ database and that John Rowland Gleave was on the side of the good guys. You can read about him here https://www.historycalroots.com/john-rowland-gleave/
The book is full of surprising stories, none more so that that of Susannah Ostrehan who owned her own mother, Priscilla. Strange as this sounds, owning family members was the best, indeed the only, way of keeping them relatively safe.
In 1809 Susannah realised she was dying and she went to extraordinary lengths to ensure that her mother became a free woman once her owner died. The British colonial authorities put all sorts of obstacles in the way of those seeking to manumit slaves. Just a few years earlier in 1801, the Governor had become so concerned at the number of enslaved people being freed that he increased the cost of issuing a manumission certificate from £50 to £300 and even if the money was raised, officialdom could not be relied upon to issue the appropriate papers. It was cheaper and more reliable to entrust a friendly ship’s captain bound for London with the requisite papers and rely on him to secure the enslaved person’s freedom through the appropriate authorities there (where the cost was still only £50).
Susannah entrusted a Captain Welch with the mission to secure her mother’s freedom. This was clearly a lengthy process as, having made the voyage to London, a ship would have to complete a return journey with the precious papers. Susannah died before the ship returned but she had prepared for that eventuality in her will by bequeathing her mother to a friend, Christian Blackman. The story has a happy ending as, although her daughter did not live to see it, the papers arrived from London and Priscilla was freed.
Finally, if we learn anything about the abolition of slavery in schools it is likely that the names of William Wilberforce and Thomas Clarkson will feature prominently. What we hear less about is the agency of enslaved people themselves in bringing the whole trade to an end. There is plenty of evidence of this in the book, one of Judith Philip’s own brothers, Joachim, turned against the system. He was eventually hanged in the market square in St Georges for his part in the 1796 uprising in Grenada led by Julien Fedon. Hopefully we will learn more about how enslaved people fought against their oppression thanks to projects like this one https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/jul/18/secrets-of-rebel-slaves-in-barbados-will-finally-be-revealed
As I suggested at the outset, it is very hard to pretend that people like Judith Philip were exemplars of enlightened behaviour – they were not. As the authors say of Judith Philip, ‘she owned people on a large scale almost all of her life. Her wealth was built from plantation slavery and when the horror of slavery was over, her powerful attorneys made sure she was substantially compensated for her loss. But should we only see women like Judith Philip through the prism of slavery?’ They conclude ‘her singular success marks her as a remarkably enterprising women, worthy of our attention in a world so profoundly shaped by white men.’ More generally they conclude ‘one does not have to valorize self-emancipated slaves who became slave owners and helped perpetuate the system that held them in bondage – or even admire them. However, we would argue it is important to know such women existed in all their complexity and contradictions.’
An uncomfortable read, but I certainly found it a thought provoking book.
I’m sure you know the story of the Empire Windrush – 492 Jamaican men, invited to Britain to rebuild the country after World War Two – right?
Wrong on all counts and hopefully if you have read some of the articles on this site you will be able to spot the errors in that opening sentence.
Today we introduce two very different stories that add to our knowledge of those who were on the Windrush – one article by Audrey Dewjee is actually called ‘A different Windrush experience’. It deals with the lives of just some of the early post-war migrants who settled in Leeds and you can read it here: https://www.historycalroots.com/a-different-windrush-experience/
Working as a young reporter on the Daily Worker in 1948, Peter Fryer (who would later become one the of the first to attempt a chronicle of black British history) was one of those sent to Tilbury to meet the ship. He asked some of those on board their reasons for coming: ‘Some 30 have volunteered for the mines and will, I understand, be given full facilities for training. While on board, I met masons, mechanics, journalists, students, musicians, boxers and cyclists attending the Olympic Games.’ We have been unable to identify any Windrush passengers among the cyclists who competed at the Olympic Games in London and so it seems someone may have spun Fryer a yarn. However, there was a link to the Olympics and Bill Hern writes about it here: https://www.historycalroots.com/mcdonald-bailey-windrush-passenger-and-father-of-an-olympic-hero/
These two stories demonstrate that, in history, there is always more to learn no matter how well-known a story might be!
It was 2015 when the individual members of the Historycal Roots’ team first got involved in the search to identify black soldiers who served in World War One (in fact Historycal Roots didn’t exist as an entity before 2016). The project we worked on was specifically aimed at identifying black servicemen who were commemorated in the UK. One of our successes was to find the exact location of the grave of Lionel Turpin. It was an unmarked plot when we visited but, finally, in 2019 a stone was placed to mark his final resting place.
One of the first things we did back in 2015 was see what had been written about the subject and two books, both relatively recently published at the time, very quickly became our starting point. ‘Black Poppies’ by Stephen Bourne had been published in 2014 and ‘Black Tommies’ by Ray Costello was published in 2015. Two of us travelled to Manchester to hear Ray speak and we were thrilled to chat with him afterwards, the first of several very pleasant and fruitful meetings.
Both books had the sense of new ground being broken; how different they would look now, not least because of the ongoing efforts of John Ellis published on this site. One of John’s latest discoveries would have fitted perfectly into the scope of that 2015 project, Private Valleron Redman served as a member of the Royal Fusiliers and is buried at Compton Chamberlayne cemetery in Wiltshire.
Like nineteen members of the British West Indies Regiment who are buried in Commonwealth War Graves at Seaford in Sussex, Private Redman never saw active service. It was the harsh and unfamiliar climate that he succumbed to rather than enemy action – he died of pneumonia in February 1916. Read his story here: http://historycalroots.com/private-valleton-redman/.
We have published a number of other of John’s ‘finds’ recently, their stories demonstrate the diversity of those who served both in terms of their origins and the roles they performed, you can find them here:
