December 17, 2009

Early Policing and the Bow Street Runners

In medieval and early modern London, the policing was done in a feudal fashion. Older men who had fallen on hard times and had little hope of employment were given positions as night-watchmen. They had to tramp the streets between dusk and dawn, taking any offenders to the 'round-houses' positioned in each parish. Round-houses were the size of a small greenhouse and usually sat against the corner of a church yard or on the edge of the road (they weren't always round either).

Around the clock or at least on call, there were the parish constables who came at a few minutes notice to aid the night-watchmen. Every able-bodied, coherent man in the parish had to serve as a constable for a set term when his time came, although it was possible to pay a fine to avoid the duty. If someone had to be put in the round-house, a constable would have to check on the offender and confirm the decision of the watch. Imprisonment in the round-house was literally overnight, but prisoners were usually fed and watered.

Next up, Justices of the Peace oversaw their district. Out in the parishes, they would have been familiar with the worst trouble makers and dealt with them accordingly; within London they frequently bought their positions and then traded favours and bribes. The Justices could choose to turn a blind eye, but they could also try minor offences and dole out whippings, fines, pillories and so forth. If a case was too grave for them to handle, they would commit the case to trial at the Old Bailey.

Outside local control, there were thief-takers who operated much like modern private-detectives, on a case-by-case basis. They took a fee from the victim to track down the perpetrator of a crime and bring them in for punishment. In many ways, they worked like a modern bounty-hunter, but frequently operated on both sides of the law. More on famous thief-takers in another post.

In 1749, Henry Fielding was made chief magistrate in Westminster, sitting at the Bow Street Magistrates' Court. Fielding was a writer and a gentleman, but more importantly he was an Old Etonian and friend of William Pitt the Elder. He had many other influential friends and between them, they had managed to establish a central, government fund that would pay for a body of men to enforce the consequences of crime. As incredible as it seems, the idea of a 'policed state' was as feared in the mid 17thC as it is now. The populace found the idea of a life controlled by central government abhorrent, and were very likely to protest if they felt such a thing were being forced upon them. Instead, the early 'runners' at the Bow Street Magistrates' Court were tagged as gophers who delivered court summons and picked up those who had defied being bound over. Outwardly, they were a cross between a barristers clerk and thief-taker. They worked out of No. 4 Bow Street, but wore no uniform (I know, disappointing for the Robin Redbreast theorists). They did however, travel across Britain to catch their man, and were very successful.

By 1754, Henry Fielding's health was failing and he 'gifted' his position to his blind half-brother John Fielding, who could apparently tell a liar from the sound of their voice. This, I am not entirely sure about, but it cannot be discounted, and John Fielding had no small success during his tenure at Bow Street.

The Runners tended to be London born and bred; they knew the people, the ghettos, the pubs and brothels where people could be found. They didn't flinch from serving notices, warrants or summons and they were effective in solving crime. Although the government support for their activities was covert, it was present and it worked. In the 19th century, policing would go from strength to strength, and by then John Townsend, one of the early Runners had become 'friendly' with George IIIrd and promenaded with him, telling the King risqué stories. Townsend was reputed to wear a handkerchief between his head and hat, and he raised the hat any time someone (including himself) mentioned the Royal family: clearly a character.

More on individual Runners, cases and the evolution of the London Metropolitan Police another time.

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Early_Policing_and_the_Bow_Str.zip (1377 KB)

November 6, 2009

The little Black girl who helped end slavery in Britain: Dido Elizabeth Belle

In my previous post on 'On Matters Pertaining to Slavery-' I related Lord Mansfield's role in bringing about the beginning of the end of slavery in Britain, at least as far as the law was concerned, in 1772. Mansfield was a moderate and educated man, but at his home, Kenwood House in Hampstead was a young person who no doubt influenced his thinking: Dido Elizabeth Belle, his illegitimate, mixed-race grand-niece.

John Lindsay was Lord Mansfield's nephew and a Captain in the Royal Navy, stationed in the Caribbean. When he was 23 or 24, he had a relationship with a Black woman named Maria Belle who bore him a daughter c. 1762. There has been a great deal of speculation about Maria Belle's status: whether enslaved, captured, free and so on. It is likely she was a slave aboard a captured Spanish ship. These points are moot, as far as I can see, as John Lindsay was sufficiently fond of the child (indicating a continuing relationship with the mother) to send her to his uncle before 1766, when she was baptized in St George's Church, Bloomsbury. There is no further record of Maria Belle, so far.

John Lindsay's daughter wasn't the only child at Kenwood. There was already another little girl there: Elizabeth Murray, an orphaned cousin. Lord and Lady Mansfield were childless and the presence of the two little girls must have been a great boon. However, when Elizabeth Lindsay arrived, it was clear another name would have to be found for her, to differentiate between the two children, and so she was baptized with the name of the African Queen Dido.

The two girls were playmates, although no letters or records have so far come to light about their relationship. The most detailed account of Dido's presence in the house is from the diary of Thomas Hutchinson, an American Loyalist living in London. In August 1779 he attended a dinner at Kenwood (in reality a late lunch) and had the following to say:

A Black came in after dinner and sat with the ladies and after coffee, walked with the company in the gardens, one of the young ladies having her arm within the other. She had a very high cap and her wool was much frizzled in her neck, but not enough to answer the large curls now in fashion. She is neither handsome nor genteel - pert enough. I knew her history before, buyt my Lord mentioned it again. Sir John Lindsay having taken her mother prisoner in a Spanish vessel, brought her to England where she was delivered of this girl, of which she was then with child, and which was taken care of by Lord M., and has been educated by his family. He calls her Dido, which I suppose is all the name she has. He knows he has been reproached for showing fondness for her - I dare not day criminal.

A few years ago there was a cause before his Lordship bro't by a Black for recovery of his liberty. A Jamaica planter being asked what judgement his Ldship would give? "No doubt" he answered "He will be set free, for Lord Mansfield keeps a Black in his house which governs him and the whole family."

She is a sort of Superintendant over the dairy, poultry yard, etc, which we visited. And she was called upon by my Lord every minute for this thing and that, and shewed the greatest attention to everything he said.

Dido would have been about fifteen at the time, so this is no small achievement. That her position within the household was slightly uncertain is no surprise, but the fact that she joined the family in the dining room, and that the guest was taken to see her domestic successes is a mark of how highly they regarded her. Around the same time, the portrait at the head of the gallery was painted. For a long time it was attributed to Johann Zoffany, although I think it is clear he did not paint it (it lacks the crystalline clarity usually present in his work, although the detailing of the costumes is indicative of Zoffany). It is however, a high quality portrait that was painted to hang prominently. Elizabeth Murray wears an aristocratic/pastoral costume of the style of the 1760s, to emphasize her Englishness and a book to show her ladylike tastes. Dido wears a modish and exotic silk-satin dress with a turban (meant to signify her 'foreign' status), plus a very expensive pearl earring. She carries a basket of exotic fruit, which may indicate her position within the household as being concerned with the gardens, or supply of food, plus another indication of her 'exotic' origins. There have been many readings of this portrait, but I find many of them grasp at straws. My reading is that the portrait is intended almost like a photograph: the two girls are walking in the grounds of Kenwood, and are 'surprised' by the artist, who attempts to capture them. Dido laughingly points to her complexion and makes to leave Elizabeth alone, but her cousin and friend attempts to restrain her, smiling for the artist. The moment is captured, as Lord and Lady Mansfield no doubt intended when they had it commissioned.

Dido was a favourite with her great-uncle and acted as his secretary when his sight began to fail. The fact that she was a valuable and well-cared-for member of the family is evident from the account books (one entry for her allowance is in the gallery). In 1770, Edward Lonsdale furnished the family with a bill for 'a mahogany table for Dido'. A good dentist was employed to extract two of her teeth at some expense in 1789 at 5 shillings each. Her bed of was draped with chintz which was starched and finished by a professional brought in to do the job. Asses milk was purchased for her (presumably over a period of time during an illness) at the vast expense of over £3 in 1791. Her £30 annual allowance was way short of Elizabeth's but then Elizabeth was an heiress in her own right, and it was still plenty of money for a young girl whose keep was funded anyway.

Elizabeth left Kenwood to marry in 1785, and Dido was left alone, although she continued to scribe for her great-uncle. Her father died in 1788, and left his wife (by whom he had had no children) £1000 to split between John, another illegitimate child and Dido, indicating her awareness and acceptance of his children. Nothing is known about John, but Lindsay's obituary records Dido as 'amiable' and 'accomplished'. Lord Mansfield wrote a will in 1783 confirming Dido's freedom and leaving her some money. This has been construed by various historians as meaning she was previously enslaved, but much more likely is that Lord Mansfield wanted to make her status absolutely clear in the event of his death. He died in 1793, and left Dido an annuity.

In December 1793, Dido was married in St George's Church, Hanover Square, to a John Davinier, very likely a steward at Kenwood. He was not English, having arrived some time in the 1780s, but little else is known about him. It seems likely that they waited until after Lord Mansfield died to marry. She and Davinier had three sons together: twin boys, Charles and Edward in 1795, and William Thomas in 1800. They lived in what is now Ebury Street in Pimlico. Dido died in 1804, aged a little over 40, and was buried in the St George's burial ground. Her remains were exhumed and reburied, along with all the others in 1960 when the area was redeveloped.

Fifteen years later, in 1975, Dido's last relative, Harold Daviniere died a free white South African in a land still struggling under apartheid.

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The_little_Black_girl_who_help.zip (365 KB)

October 22, 2009

Ignatius Sancho, Britain's first Black voter-

The exact date and place of Ignatius Sancho's birth are unknown. The idea he was born, as his unreliable biographer Jekyll suggests, upon a slave ship in 1729, seems unlikely, but the date is as good as we have. By 1731, Sancho was in Greenwich, living with three wealthy sisters as a servant (most probably the Legge sisters, who lived opposite Montagu House on Blackheath). Education was not viewed necessary for Sancho, but this does not mark him out as special at this point in time. Nor is it by any means certain what his status was, with the sisters, but his degree of freedom seems to make it likely he was a servant rather than a slave.

The Duke of Montagu was a notorious practical joker, but also a liberal and tolerant man with wide interests. He saw Sancho out and about and brought him home to amuse his wife, Lady Mary Churchill, but also took an interest in him and encouraged him to learn to read and write. Montagu died in 1749, and this seems about the time Sancho decided he could no longer live with the sisters, and tried to find a place with the bereaved Duchess. It appears at first that she sent him away, but was later persuaded to employ him as a butler. When she died in 1751, Lady Mary left him with a year's salary and a £30 annuity. Sancho promptly fell into women and cards. However, after an 'unsuccessful contest at cribbage with a Jew, who won his cloaths', he appears to have given up gambling.

What Sancho did between 1751 and 1766, when he re-enters to the service of the Montagu family, is a bit of a mystery. He returned as a valet to his old employer's son-in-law, who had inherited the title (in a roundabout way: it was recreated for him). In 1768, he was painted by Thomas Gainsborough as above. He married Ann Osborne, a young woman of 'West-Indian origin', and probably also in the service of the Montagus in some fashion. By 1773 Sancho was crippled by gout and could no longer work for the Duke, who accordingly, set him up with a freehold in Westminster and a small grocery shop, which appears to have been successful enough to keep him and his family.

He was a prolific letter writer, and some of them show an astonishing, journalistic writing style. In particular, the ones sent to John Spink giving a detailed account of the Gordon Riots, with times noted next to actual events, is invaluable. His letter of 1766 to Laurence Sterne, the master of sentimentality, gives a neat picture of his life, devoid of self-pity:

I am one of those people who the vulgar and illiberal call 'Negurs.' - The first part of my life was rather unlucky, as I was placed with a family who judged ignorance the best and only security for obedience. - A little reading and writing I got by unwearied application. - The latter part of my life has been -tho' God's blessing, truly fortunate, having spent it in the service of one of the best families in the kingdom.

He wrote to newspapers under the pseudonym Africanus, and positively identified himself as of 'Afric' birth. In 1776, he writes a short opinion of the slave trade, showing at once his sound judgement:

In Africa, the poor wretched natives who are blessed with the most fertile and luxurious soil - are rendered so much the more miserable for what Providence meant as a blessing:-the Christian's abominable traffic for slaves - and the horrid cruelty and treachery of the petty kings - encouraged by their Christian customers - who carry them strong liquors - to enflame their national madness - and powder - and bad fire arms - to furnish them with the hellish means of killing and kidnapping. - But enough - it is a subject that sours my blood - and I am sure will not please the friendly bent of your social affections. - I mentioned these only to guard my friend against being too hasty in condemning the knavery of a people who as bad as they may be - possibly - were made worse - by their Christian visitors. - Make human nature they study - wherever thou residest - whatever the religion - or the complexion - study their hearts.

Sancho was very keen on music, and published three collections in his lifetime. After his death a collection of his letters were published, recording excellent vignettes on the life of a gentleman of middling social status at the time. In the summer of 1779, he writes of his hopes that the family dog, Nutts, will not catch fleas in the heat, and in September of 1780, he writes to his friend Mrs Cocksedge that he has cast his 'free vote' in the election of that year, in favour of Charles James Fox. This small note makes Ignatius Sancho the first recorded Black voter in Britain.

He died in December of that year, the Gentleman's Magazine recording, the first known British obituary of a Black individual, the demise of 'the Extraordinary Negro' Ignatius Sancho, Butler, and Grocer of Westminster.

October 2, 2009

'On matters pertaining to Slavery-'

In order to better understand the nature of 18C London, I am grappling with sources pertaining to the Black population. Quite frankly, it is a nightmare: the numbers are all over the place, the primary sources are a bit of a mess and the conclusions drawn by well-meaning commentators are often bizarre and tenuous to say the least.

Then, as now London was ruled by commerce, without a doubt but it was a matter of deep unease that the rights Englishmen had taken for granted for so long, namely that of habeas corpus (unlawful detention as in slavery, not arrest), could be ignored so very easily. At the turn of the 18C there was clear concern in the courts about the status of slaves arriving in England from the Colonies: slaves were chattels, having been bought and paid for, but they were also people so how could they be chattels? I hate trotting out laws and dates, but to get to the heart of this situation it must be done. The two most prominent and famous laws pertaining to the status of slavery in Britain are the Yorke-Talbot ruling of 1729, and the Somerset ruling of 1772. Yorke-Talbot ruled that slaves did not become free on English soiled (baptized or not), they remained the property of their owner, and could be compelled to go wherever their owner decided. In 1772, the Somerset ruling changed everything. William Sharp was a surgeon who in 1765 had treated Jonathan Strong, a slave beaten and abandoned in the street by David Lisle his master. When Strong was recovered, Lisle had attempted to reclaim him as property. William Sharp had engaged in a legal battle to free Strong, and lost. Sharp became an advocate for the rights of slaves and in 1772, master-minded the test case of James Somersett.

Somersett had arrived in England as the property of Charles Stewart, a Boston Customs official. In England Somersett clearly made friends and was baptized into St Andrew's Holborn early in 1771, with three god-parents standing for him. He left Stewart in October of that year so Stewart had him abducted and put on a ship for Jamaica. Sharp immediately got involved and arranged for the case to come to court. He also shouted about it from the rooftops in pamphlets that garnered public interest. It is absolutely key that the presiding figure was Lord Mansfield, who's little mixed-race grand-niece Dido Elizabeth Belle lived with him at Kenwood House (more of her later). He tried to get Stewart to sell Somersett to the god-parents, but neither side was having it, both determined to see the law decided once and for all. Mansfield ruled that habeas corpus (unlawful detention, rather than arrest) applied to anyone in England, even if they originated elsewhere. Slavery in England was officially at an end, legally. He was well aware of the significance of his ruling, stating 'Fiat justitia ruat caelum', or 'Let justice be done, though the heavens fall'.

Leaving legal matters aside, The Gentleman's Magazine and The London Advertiser ('human interest' publications on a par with The Sun; their absolute reliability in reporting is doubtful, but the classifieds are useful) record many little details about London's Black community, and took a generally favourable view. Blacks definitely came above Methodists, although what they might have thought of a Black Methodist doesn't bear thinking about. Modern commentators are very keen to jump on advertisements for the sale of young Black men and women.

To be sold, a Negro boy age about fourteen years old, warranted free from any distemper, and has had those fatal to that colour; has been used two years to all kinds of household work, and to wait on table; his price is £25, and would not be sold but the person he belongs to is leaving off business. Apply at the bar of George Coffee House in Chancery Lane, over the Gate.

The London Advertiser, 1756

But wait! Laws and such advertisements seem to encourage blanket statements, but London is a mass of individual stories and examples. This extract from the Gentleman's Magazine in 1768 recounts story of a man coming to England with an 'agreeable negro girl', and selling her (for obliged, read short of money):

He was obliged to sell his slave for thirty guineas with part of which he purchased a lottery ticket, (he) has since drawn a prize of £5,000. He has since re-purchased his slave, made her free, and settled on her an annuity for her life.

It is dangerous to make any generalizations about the Black Londoners of the 18C, and future posts will focus on the lives of individuals where extant information allows the gathering of informed conclusions. In the meantime though, it is good to note that the Yorkshire Stingo pub in Marylebone was famous for its savagely strong beer and predominantly Black clientele, and life was not all drudgery:

'Among the sundry fashionable routs or clubs that are held in town that of the Blacks or negro servants is not the least. On Wednesday night last no less than fifty seven of them, men and women, supped, drank and entertained themselves with dancing and music, consisting of violins, French Horns and other instruments, in a public house in Fleet Street.'

The London Chronicle, 1764

N.B. Black in the context of this blog means people of African origin.