“Bonus” Traitor Thursday ~ Celebrating 250 Years of the United States as a Separate Nation: Philip Livingston, Signer of the Declaration of Independence and “Lord of the Manor”

http://www.dsdi1776.com/signers-by-state/philip-livingston/ by Ole Erekson, Engraver, c1876, Library of Congress

http://www.dsdi1776.com/signers-by-state/philip-livingston/ by Ole Erekson, Engraver, c1876, Library of Congress

Philip Livingston was one of the older of the signer. A merchant, he represented New York. He was 60 years of age at the time he signed the document. He was dead by age 62.

Born to a wealthy family of the Hudson River Valley of New York (like 160,000 acres on the eastern side of Hudson River wealthy), Philip Livingston was a merchant and a philanthropist. The Livingston family’s wealth provided them with political power. They were presented with the concept of a “manor,” meaning they were given one seat in the New York royal legislature, and they could act as judges within the territory. Like many of his family, Philip settled in New York City and took up the import business. Residing on Duke Street in Manhattan, he also spent time on a 40-acre estate in Brooklyn Heights. He married Christina Broeck in 1740. They had nine children (Philip, Richard, Catherine, Margaret, Peter, Sarah, Abraham, Alida, and Henry), his youngest son Henry serving with George Washington during the War. He was one of the two Dutch American signers of the Declaration of Independence. 

“Philip Livingston was born in the well-to-do and prominent Albany Livingston family. His family controlled a large landholding grant, called Livingston Manor. Philip had the benefit of a good education and graduated from Yale College in 1737. He became prominent as a merchant, and was elected an alderman of New York City in 1754. Livingston became active as a promoter of efforts to fund and raise troops for the War of Independence. In 1759, he was elected to the New York [then a colony] House of Representatives. In October 1765, he attended the Stamp Act Congress, which was a prelude to the American Revolution. When New York established a rebel government in 1775, Livingston became the President of the Provincial Convention, and a delegate to the Continental Congress. In the Continental Congress, he strongly supported separation from Britain, and in 1776 he joined other Continental Congress delegates in signing the Declaration of Independence.” (The New Netherland Institute)

In the early days of the “revolution,” Livingston was considered a moderate. He was conscious of his import business and the large market the British connections brought to the American colony. Reportedly, he was a privateer during the French and Indian War. He wished to be an Englishman first and foremost. Even so, he opposed the taxes imposed by the English government. In Congress, Livingston came to heads with John Adams, for Livingston often “stonewalled” the more radical ideas of independence. Livingston was of the belief that without England’s guidance that America would become warring civil states. Eventually, his stance mellowed, but was not totally abandoned. 

“He was born January 15, 1716 at Albany, NY, the son of Philip Livingston (the second Lord of the Manor described below) and Catharine Van Brugh. Catharine was the daughter of Captain Peter Van Brugh, a mayor of Albany. Philip “the Signer” was one of three Livingstons who were members of the Continental Congress at the time of the great deliberations concerning the future of the 13 colonies. Although Philip was the only one who actually signed the Declaration of Independence, his brother William of New Jersey, and his first cousin once removed Robert R. Livingston, later the Chancellor of New York, were very active Continental Congress contributors. In addition, at least twenty other members of the larger Livingston family served during the Revolutionary War as officers, either by Congressional or State Legislature appointments.

“Just who were these Livingstons who risked so much in terms of their families, their fortunes, and their very lives in the cause of freedom from the oppression by their mother country. In America, they all trace their lineage back to Robert Livingston, a native of Scotland who immigrated to the New World. His father, Reverend John Livingston had been exiled with his family to the Netherlands in 1663 for refusing to take an oath of allegiance to King Charles II. Nine years later, his father having died, he returned to Scotland. He decided a career in the New World appealed to him and in 1673, he set sail. Fluent in both English and Dutch, Robert decided that Albany in the colony of New York was the place for him to settle, and a wise decision it was. He soon established himself in the fur trade and ingratiated himself to both the old Dutch families and their new English masters. Many important political appointments followed, including Secretary for Indian Affairs, town clerk, collector of customs, and clerk to the colony’s largest private landholding, the Patroonship of Rensselaerwyck. He eventually married the widow of the owner of Rensselaerwyck, Alida Schuyler Van Rensselaer. Thus established into the aristocracy of colonial New York, he was granted ownership of the ‘Lordship and Manor of Livingston’ by the English Royal Governor, Thomas Dongan, in 1687. The manor consisted of 160,000 acres on the east side of the Hudson River about forty miles south of Albany. Robert preferred to be known as the “first proprietor” of the Manor of Livingston, but he and his two successors were later referred to as ‘Lords of the Manor.’ Two of Robert’s sons had large families, which multiplied through the first several generations. A son Philip became the second Lord, and his oldest son Robert became the third and last Lord of the Manor when the property was sub-divided and much of it eventually disbursed. The Lords of the Manor are buried beneath the Livingston Memorial Church near where the original Manor House had been in the Town of Livingston.

“The Livingston’s ancestry in Scotland through Rev. John Livingston is quite impressive. In one genealogy, the family traces its roots to Egbert, the first Saxon King of all England. Included in this genealogy are Alfred the Great and other Anglo-Saxon kings, Edward the Elder, Robert the Bruce, Robert Stuart, and other kings of Scotland. Another genealogy focuses on the Livingston name, and carries it back to Sir Andrew de Livingston, Knight, who was sheriff of Lanark in 1296. This genealogy carries the name down through Rev. John Livingston, and includes the six Lord Livingstons of Callendar. Sir Alexander de Livingston, Lord of Callendar, Knight, was the guardian of King James II. The fifth Lord Livingston of Callendar was the guardian of Mary, Queen of Scots at Linlithgow Palace. The magnificent Callendar House exists today and is a museum under the Scottish Trust near Edinburgh. Linlithgow Palace is a ruins, but is extensively used for performances, tours, and other public events.” (The Society of the Descendants of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence)

When the British attacked New York, Livingston’s family abandoned their home, taking refuge in Kingston, the temporary capital of New York. The British used his property in Brooklyn Heights as a “hospital,” but later burned it. Livingston was forced to sell off some of his smaller properties to sustain him until the War’s end. Even so, the combined Livingston family built 40 houses along the Hudson and built up their wealth to include land holdings larger than the state of Rhode Island. (Denise Kiernan and Joseph D’Agnest, Signing Their Lives Away, Quirk Books) After signing the Declaration, Livingston was elected to the New York State Senate in 1777. Unfortunately, his health deteriorated, and he passed at the age of 62 on 12 June 1778. He is buried at Prospect Hill Cemetery in York County, Pennsylvania. Part of his legacy includes the founding of King’s College, which later became Columbia University. 

Posted in America, American History, British history, Declaration of Independence, Great Britain, Living in the Regency, real life tales, Regency era | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

The Colt Paterson Revolver and Its Relationship to Book 4, “Lost in the Lyon’s Garden” from Dragonblade Publishing (Arriving 18 March 2026)

If you have been a steady reader of my Dragonblade mystery series (and if you have not, why not?), you will recall that Lord Macdonald Duncan has been shot by an unknown man, who carried a gun not like those generally available in England at the time. Often, I have one of the characters remark how it looked like one a person might find on the American frontier.

Each of the five books in this series (Lyon in the Way, Lyon’s Obsession, Lyon in Disguise, Lost in the Lyon’s Garden, and Lyon on the Inside) start with the same scene: the shooting of Lord Macdonald Duncan by an unknown assailant outside of the Lyon’s Den, an infamous gaming hell. The scene is told from a different character’s point of view (the hero of that particular book), and the reader learns more details regarding the shooting – reasons for the attack, a description of the shooter, how he escaped, etc., etc., etc. It is a technique I also used in my award-winning REALM series.

One thing each of the heroes believe to be true was the gun used in the attack was likely one adapted from those used on the American frontier during the early 1800s. In my mind’s eyes, when I was writing the tale, I saw something more like the Hawkens Plains Rifle. I have a dear friend, actually my journalism professor from when I was an undergraduate. He lives some twenty miles from me, and we occasionally share a meal, etc. He also writes novels, but he prefers Westerns. Therefore, I sought out some of the sites he had suggested years ago when I, too, dallied with the idea of writing a family style saga on the American frontier. So, such is where I came across this information.

True West: History of the American Frontier, gives us an article called “Top Guns That Tamed the West.” Phil Spangenberger tells us,


Such is not to say that there were no such rifles or guns that fit the description given in my series. In fact, initially, the long firearm of choice on the frontier was the smoothbore musket, or trade gun, built in factories in England and France and shipped to the colonies for purchase. Gradually, long rifles became more popular due to their longer effective range. While the smooth bore musket had an effective range of less than 100 yards, a rifleman could hit a man-sized target at a range of 200 yards or more. The price for this accuracy was that the long rifle took significantly longer to reload than the approximately 20 seconds of the musket.

Though I had something in mind more to the idea of a holster pistol (see image below) or the half-stock muzzleloader, when reading this article, I set my sights on the Colt Paterson Revolver. “Despite not being a successful business venture for Samuel Colt, this five-shot, cap and ball single-action became the first practical “revolving pistol.” Although only around 2,850 revolvers were made, this was the handgun that revolutionized revolvers for all time. The Paterson (its name comes from the city in New Jersey where it was manufactured) was produced in a number of small calibers and model variations ranging from pocket-sized ‘Baby’ Patersons, to larger mid-powered belt revolvers. However, it was the long-barreled .36 caliber Texas Paterson version of this first Colt that was put to such deadly use against the Comanches by the early Texas Rangers.” [Top 12 Guns That Tamed the West]

https://truewestmagazine.com/article/top-12-guns-that-tamed-the-wild-west/#:~:text=Plains%20rifles%20were%20made%20from,Cody.
Posted in American History, book release, books, British history, Dragonblade Publishers, eBooks, Georgian England, Georgian Era, hero, heroines, historical fiction, history, Living in the Regency, military, mystery, publishing, Regency era, Regency romance, research, suspense, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Traitor Tuesday ~ Celebrating 250 Years of the United States as a Separate Nation: Joseph Hewes, the Bachelor Signer of the Declaration of Independence

by Ole Erekson, Engraver, c1876, Library of Congress www/ushistory.org/declaration/signers/hewes.htm

by Ole Erekson, Engraver, c1876, Library of Congress www/ushistory.org/declaration/signers/hewes.htm

Joseph Hewes was born in Princeton, New Jersey, but he amassed his fortune in a shipping business located in Wilmington, North Carolina. He was 46 years of age when he signed The Declaration of Independence. He died three years later.

When the revolution broke out, Hewes placed his ships at the service of the Continental Army. Unfortunately because Hewes had no direct line descendants his contributions are sometimes overlooked. 

Hewes was the son of Quaker farmers whose ancestors came to America from England in 1735. They settled in the Connecticut Colony.  Aaron and Providence Hewes left Connecticut because of religious intolerance, as well as an upswing of Indian attacks. Settling at Maybury Hill, an estate outside of Princeton, where they remained for some 25 years. Little is known of Hewes’ life prior to his attending Princeton College and his apprenticeship in a counting house. In North Carolina, he founded a prosperous shipping business. He was engaged to Isabella Johnston, sister to Samuel Johnston, who served as a governor of North Carolina. Regrettably, she died before the wedding date, and Hewes remained a bachelor for the remainder of his days. (The Society of the Descendants of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence)

Hewes represented North Carolina in the Continental Congress and helped developed the “Halifax Resolves,” which chronicled North Carolina’s grievances against English rule, and he helped form a plan of non-importation for the colonies. As a Quaker, Hewes was under pressure to denounce the colonial efforts for independence, but he stood strong. Moreover, he shunned other teachings of Quakers by attending socials and dances and enjoying the company of women. “On the advice of the committee appointed October 5, 1775, Congress voted to fit out four vessels, A committee of seven was formed by Congress for the defense of the United Colonies. By this vote, Congress was fully committed to the policy of maintaining a naval armament. This committee was the first executive body for the management of naval affairs. It was known as the “Naval Committee” and the members were John Langdon of New Hampshire, John Adams of Massachusetts, Stephen Hopkins of Rhode Island, Silas Deane of Connecticut, Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, Joseph Hewes of North Carolina and Christopher Gadsden of South Carolina. Hewes chaired the committee that was responsible for fitting out the first American Warships. He also put his entire fleet at the disposal of the Continental Armed Forces. The disbursements of the Naval Committee were under his special charge, and eight armed vessels were fitted out with the Funds placed at his disposal.” (The Society of the Descendants of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence)

“Joseph Hewes was a friend and benefactor of John Paul (alias Jones). John Paul was a ship boy on a merchantman from Scotland, and at twenty one was master of a Brigantine. He arrived in America in 1773. and became a friend of Joseph Hewes. When the time came to appoint the Nation’s first Naval captains, Hewes and John Adams clashed for one of the positions. Hewes nominated his friend John Paul Jones. John Adams maintained that all the captaincies should be filled by New Englanders, and stubbornly protested. New England had yielded to the South in the selection of a commander in chief of the Continental Army and Adams had fostered the selection of the able Virginian George Washington, so he was not now about to make a concession on the Navy. Hewes, sensing the futility of argument, reluctantly submitted. John Paul Jones, was to become the most honored Naval hero of the Revolution, but he received only a Lieutenant’s commission. Jones never forgot his patron and sponsor and many letters are extant telling of the great gratitude he felt for Hewes’ interest in him. The following is an excerpt from one of the letters:
‘You are the angel of my happiness; since to your friendship I owe my present enjoyments, as well as my future prospects. You more than any other person have labored to place the instruments of success in my hands.’ (John Paul Jones)” (The Society for the Descendants of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence)

From North Carolina History, we learn “North Carolinians were pleased with Hewes’s representation and elected him to Congress for a second time in 1775. He stayed until its adjournment in July. He continued to serve the state of North Carolina, almost entirely uninterrupted, for the next four years. His final appearance in Congress came on October 29, 1779. Hewes struggled with an illness for sometime and remained confined in his chamber from October until his death on November 10, 1779. His funeral took place the following day. Congress, the General Assembly of Pennsylvania, the President and Supreme Executive Council, the Minister Plenipotentiary of France, and a number of citizens came to pay their respects to a great man who dedicated so many years to the Patriot cause. To honor the memory of Hewes, members of Congress wore a crape around their left arms for one month.”

Posted in American History, British history, Declaration of Independence, Great Britain | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Charitable Organizations During the Georgian Era + the Upcoming Release of “Lost in the Lyon’s Garden” from Dragonblade Publishing (Arriving 18 March 2026)

To those of means during the Regency Era, charitable causes were considered a social obligation deriving from the parishes. Churches throughout the land supported the poor and those in need.

The Voluntary Action History Society site tells us, “Looking at the mass of visual and printed material produced on the subject of charity during the 1700s, there were clearly resemblances between what people were concerned about then and what we are still debating today. To be sure, there were important differences. For instance, the Georgians had inherited the medieval tradition of almsgiving which the Henrician Reformation and subsequent Elizabethan legislation had effectively secularised.

“The ‘New Poor Law’ (officially the Poor Law Amendment Act) of 1834 was designed to make provision for the poor fairer for society as a whole, although it was regularly accused of inflicting inhuman cruelty, as the novels of Charles Dickens and others were at pains to show. This system, which was intended to clear away the detritus of ages and which arguably paved the way for the modern welfare state, has caused us to forget the Georgian idea of charity which was much more ad hoc and more dependent on the generosity of private individuals.”

A poor tax was levied on owners of land and buildings. This tax funded the workhouses and other efforts to assist the poor. The churches involvement was engrained in society from medieval times forward. Giving to the church meant giving to the orphanages and to the elderly and to the poor, in general.

“Philanthropy in the 19th century was based on religious tradition that was centuries in the making.  Historically, wealthy people in society gave to the poor as a Christian duty. Charity was seen as a way of saving one’s own soul while also helping those in need.  Protestants, especially those with strong evangelical leanings, believed that social conscience demanded social action.  They held that by coming into contact with human nature, particularly with those in need, that they were able to come in contact with Christ.[5]  Religious philanthropists believed that by helping the needy, they were helping their own kin because everyone was a child of God. Good works were, and are part of the foundation of Christianity, and pave the way to salvation.  Through the 19th century, the church increasingly became the vehicle of private and public social work.  However, it should be noted that though philanthropy was rooted in religious and church tradition, it also spread outside the church.  Philanthropy and religion are intertwined throughout history, but are not necessarily dependent on each other.” [Philanthropy]

The middle class took on the task with “gusto.” Women, in particular, stepped up to the task, but, not always for the reasons one might expect. Certainly, charity was an admirable trait. However, “working outside the home,” even in a charitable manner, provided these women a sense of worth beyond tending to their husband’s homes. Charitable work seemed to be an extension of their “natural” maternal instincts, but it also allowed women to meet and socialize with other women of like minds and education, opening them up to new experiences and ideas. “Charity begins at home” took on a whole different meaning.

Evangelism placed service to one’s fellow man above doctrine, and its rise to “popularity” as the 19th century progressed changed the look of charities from purely the work of the church to the work of society, as a whole. Non-church organizations, such as guilds, also could be supported without one considering himself or herself “not a Christian.” Women also created other means to support their favorite charities with organizing bazaars and dinner parties and collection boxes. Men still supported the organizations with the purse strings, but it was the women who made them work.

Some years back, another Regency-based author shared a list of actual charities during the Georgian and Victorian eras. I thought including the names might provide those interested in the scope of charitable work better insights.

The Society for Organising Charitable Relief and Repressing Mendicity (aka Charity Organisation Society or COS (this one took the position that most charities were being “hoodwinked by the cunning poor,”)

Manchester and Salford District Provident Society (DPS)

Liverpool Central Relief Society

Brightelmston Provident Institution

Brighton Provident and District Society

Liverpool Provident District Society

Central Relief SocietySociety for the Relief of Distressed Travellers and Others (1814)

Oxford Charity Organisation Committee

Anti-Mendicity Society

Oxford Anti-Mendicity and Charity Organisation Association

Society for the Relief of Distress (1860)

Invalid Children’s Aid Association (1888)

Barnardo Evangelical Trustees

Manchester and Salford Provident Dispensary Association

Edgbaston Mendicity Society

Brighton, Hove and Preston Charity Organisation Society

Leamington Charity Organisation and Relief Society

Vigilance Association (noted to be unpopular)

Birkhead Provident and Benevolent Society (later became the Birkhead Association for Organising Charitable Relief and Repressing Mendicity)

Ladies’ Sanitary Society- goal to promote habits of cleanliness among the working classes

[City Name] Relief Fund

Toxteth Relief Society

Brighton Jubilee and Accident Fund

Provident Dispensary Association

Oxford Working Women’s Benefit Society- basically a pool, women paid a small amount weekly and could claim benefits if they became sick.

Croydon Charitable Society

Reading Destitute Children Aid Committee- provided footwear with insistence on weekly repayments

Sick Relief Fund

Penny Savings Bank

London Ethical Society

Lock Hospital

Foundling Hospital

General Lying-In Hospital (also British Lying-In Hospital, Lying-In Charity, etc.)

Marine Society

Philanthropic Society

Magdalen House

St. Thomas’s Hospita

Asylum for Orphaned Girls (also Asylum for the Reception of Orphaned Girls at Lambeth)

London Hospital

Society for the Discharge and Relief of Persons Imprisoned for Small Debts

Salters Guild

Smallpox Hospital

Society for Improving the Comfort and Bettering the Conditions of the Poor

Middlesex Hospital

Ladies Society for Employing the Female Poor

London Female Penitentiary

Lambeth Refuge for the Destitute

Dorking Provident Institution

The Church of England Waifs and Strays Society

Crutch & Kindness League (for ‘cripples’)

Metropolitan Association for Befriending Young Servants

Church Missionary Society

Society for Promoting the Religious Instruction of Youth

Female Friendly Society for the Relief of Poor, Infirm, Aged Widows and Single Women of Good Character, Who Have Seen Better Days

Other Sources:

Charity events in Georgian England, or, the poor shall be with us always

The Philanthropic Society of Mile End for the Relief and Discharge of Persons Imprisoned for Small Debts; and other objects

In book 4 of my mystery/romantic suspense series, the heroine’s sister has an illegitimate child, and many wish Miss Victoria Whitchurch to send her nephew to one of the foundling hospitals or an orphanage, but Miss Whitchurch refuses. Read all about the adorable bit of delight that is the child and the two adults who come to love him dearly.

Posted in aristocracy, book release, British history, Church of England, customs and tradiitons, Dragonblade Publishers, eBooks, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Great Britain, hero, heroines, historical fiction, history, laws of the land, Living in the Regency, mystery, publishing, Regency era, Regency romance, research, suspense, Victorian era, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Do All Babies Have Blue Eyes at Birth? + the Upcoming Release of “Lost in the Lyon’s Garden” from Dragonblade Publishing (Arriving 18 March 2026)

Lost in the Lyon’s Garden not only has an analytical and caring hero and an over the top brave heroine, it has a newborn babe who will steal your heart away. Not the child of the hero and heroine, for they are both the children of vicars, but that of a close relative, and the child requires their protection and their love. In the story they mention the child’s blue eyes and marvel whether they will always be blue. So are all children born with blue eyes?

No, not all babies are born with blue eyes. While many babies, especially those of European descent, may appear to have blue eyes at birth, this is often due to a lack of melanin (a pigment that provides color) in the iris at that time. As babies are exposed to light, their eyes may darken to green, hazel, or brown as melanin production increases. Studies show that a significant percentage of newborns, particularly those of Asian, Black, and Hispanic descent, are born with brown eyes. VSP Direct

Here’s why:

Melanin, produced by melanocytes, is the pigment responsible for eye color. 

Melanocytes respond to light, and at birth, babies are in a relatively dark environment (the womb). As they are exposed to light, melanin production increases, potentially changing eye color. 

While melanin plays a role, genetics also determine the potential for eye color. Babies inherit genes from their parents that influence how much melanin their melanocytes produce. 

The idea that all babies are born with blue eyes is a myth. Many babies of color are born with brown or hazel eyes. 

Eye color can change in the first few years of life, but brown eyes are less likely to change than blue or green eyes. 

Healthline tells us, “Before the phrase “baby blues” came to refer to postpartum sadness (which is not the same as postpartum depression), it was actually a common synonym for “eyes.” Why? Well, because all babies are born with blue eyes, right? Wrong. Feast your baby blues upon this fun fact: Worldwide, more newborns have brown eyes than blue. And while it’s true that many babies have blue or gray eyes at first, it’s important to know that eye color can change for months after birth. And there are plenty of infants gazing out at their new surroundings with hazel and brown eyes, too. In fact, a 2016 Stanford University study involving 192 newborns found that nearly two-thirds of themTrusted Source were born with brown eyes, while only about 1 in 5 babies arrived with blue eyes. The Stanford researchers also noted, however, that the majority of babies in the study born with blue eyes were Caucasian. Those of other ethnic groups, including Asian and Hispanic, were more often born with brown eyes.”

Posted in book release, British history, Dragonblade Publishers, eBooks, Georgian England, Georgian Era, hero, heroines, historical fiction, history, mystery, publishing, Regency era, Regency romance, research, romance, series, suspense, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Threads of Feeling and the London Foundling Hospital

Back in 2011, London’s Foundling Hospital Museum had a somewhat tender and somewhat heartbreaking display of what was called “Threads of Feeling.” You see, beginning in the mid-18th Century, thousands of poor women who could no longer care for their children made the difficult decision to leave their babies with the London Foundling Home. Most likely thought it would be only a temporary decision. In fact, when writing Lost in the Lyon’s Garden, I thought, for a time, to have Miss Whitchurch search for her nephew there, but then I recalled “the threads of feeling” concept in place at the Foundling Hospital. Victoria would not know what her sister had chosen for the child.

Here is how the Threads of Feeling worked. Those distraught mothers were made to leave some kind of identifying piece pinned to the child in the event that sometime in the future the woman was in a position to return for the child. No name of the child was recorded. No name of the mother was recorded. It was essential that the token be distinctive. Be memorable. The hospital essentially erased the mother from the child’s life in order to give the child a chance to succeed in its world. A new name was presented to the child. It was provided with basic schooling, perhaps an apprenticeship, so it could make its way through the world.

If the mother’s circumstances changed, she would need to be able to identify in detail the object left as the child’s existence. The hospital made a vow to preserve the object.

The hospital, which was located Bloombury, soon took on many of the fashionable sect.

In describing the 2011 exhibition, The Guardian tells us, “Admission policy varied over time – at one point the hospital took only 200 babies a year, at another 4,000 – but from 1741 to 1760 16,282 babies entered the institution anonymously. The vast majority of mothers failed to heed the instruction to leave an identifying token, perhaps because they were too beaten down by rotten lives to imagine a time when they would be able to provide a warm, clean home for their baby. All the same, 5,000 of the infants deposited came with some kind of token attached. And by some lucky chance these tokens, mostly comprising bits of fabric carefully pinned to the baby’s admission billet, have survived. Over the past few decades they have been stored not at the museum itself but at London Metropolitan Archives where they have tended to languish, overlooked. Now, these slivers of everyday Georgian life are making a triumphant return to their original home where they will form the basis of the museum’s new exhibition, Threads of Feeling.

“The exhibition’s curator, Professor John Styles of Hertfordshire University, is emphatic about the significance of these 5,000 scraps of fabric, mundane and beautiful, lumpy and sheer. They comprise, he explains, nothing less than the biggest archive of 18th-century materials surviving in Britain, probably in the world. Historians who have tried to investigate the dress of the common people in the Georgian period – including Styles himself – have always fallen into a black hole where the evidence ought to be. The clothing of elite groups – fashionable merchants’ wives, duchesses with an eye for style – have survived in countless stately homes and museums. You can feast your eyes on silk and velvet, on silver buckles and pearl buttons, but you will search in vain for evidence of what ordinary working people wore to keep themselves dry and more-or-less warm.

“There are hints, of course, in paintings and cartoons, including those drawn by Hogarth (who was a governor of the hospital), but it is impossible to know whether these are strictly accurate. The prostitutes and fishwives who tumble through the satirist’s street scenes may well be based on close observation, but they are also exaggerations and fantasies, caricatures held up for the viewer’s pity, mirth and scorn. It is the Foundling tokens, snipped from either the mother’s or baby’s garments, that provide our only solid evidence of what ordinary clothing looked and felt like.

“To examine these samples is to enter a world of dizzying names and textures. Some are familiar – calico, flannel, gingham and satin – although the relationship between the 18th-century fabric and its modern equivalent often turns out to be stretched pretty thin. Other textiles boast names utterly mysterious to us, opening up a lost world of camblet and fustian, susy and cherryderry, calimanco and linsey-woolsey. What stands out is the high proportion – almost a third – of printed cottons and linens among the Foundling collection.”

Other Sources:

French General

Piecework

Threads of Feeling – Foundling Museum

Two Nerdy History Girls

Just as a point of reference for those knowing me as a Regency writer, The Foundling Hospital (formally the Hospital for the Maintenance and Education of Exposed and Deserted Young Children) was a children’s home in London, England, founded in 1739 by the philanthropic sea captain, Thomas Coram.

Posted in British history, buildings and structures, Georgian England, Georgian Era, history, Living in the Regency, reading, Regency era, research | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Traitor Tuesday ~ Celebrating 250 Years of the United States as a Separate Nation: Richard Henry Lee, Signer of the Declaration of Independence and the “Cicero” Who Advocated for a Bill of Rights

Richard Henry Lee - Colonial Williamsburg - www.history.org/ almanack/people/ bios/biolee.cfm

Richard Henry Lee – Colonial Williamsburg – http://www.history.org/
almanack/people/
bios/biolee.cfm

Richard Henry Lee was both a merchant and a plantation owner from Virginia. He was married twice and the father of six children. He was 44 when he signed the document. He died at the age of 62.

Richard Henry Lee, signer of the Declaration of Independence, was born on 20 January 1732 in Westmoreland County, Virginia. He was the seventh of eleven children of Thomas and Hannah Lee and a descendant of Colonel Richard Lee, the first of the Lees to arrive in America. Colonel Lee was a lawyer and planter and the largest landholder in Virginia with some 13,000 acres. 

“Today the different branches of the Lee family are known as: “Cobb’s Hall”, “Mount Pleasant”, “Ditchley”, “Lee Hall”, “Blenheim”, “Leesylvania”, “Dividing Creek”, and “Stratford”. These were the estate names of the descendants of Richard Lee I that are still referred to today when talking of Lee descendancy. An interesting note is that Lee had patented somewhere in the neighbourhood of 15,000 acres (61 km²) on both sides of the Potomac, in Maryland and in Virginia. Part of this land later became George Washington’s Mount Vernon. When he divided his estate among his children, he also left them the products of the several plantations including white indentured servants, Negro slaves, livestock, household furnishings, silver, and many other luxuries.

“Notable descendants of Richard Lee I include signers of the Declaration of Independence Francis Lightfoot Lee and Richard Henry Lee, Revolutionary War general Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee, Confederate Civil War generals Robert E. Lee, Richard Taylor, William Henry Fitzhugh Lee, Stephen D. Lee, and George Washington Custis Lee, Richard L. T. Beale, Richard Lucian Page; President of the United States Zachary Taylor, Chief Justice of the United States Edward Douglass White, Governor of Maryland Thomas Sim Lee.” (Colonel Richard Lee) To those interested in the NFL, we can even make a connection to Eli and Peyton Manning, the quarterbacks for the New York Giants and the Denver Broncos, respectively. Captain Charles Lee Sr., who was one of Colonel Lee’s ten children of the “Cobbs Hall” sector, married Elizabeth Medstand, the daughter of Thomas Medstand and one of the Manning family’s ancestors. (Colonel Richard Lee)

Richard Henry Lee attended Wakefield Academy in England before returning to America. In 1757, he married Anne Aylett and set up residence at Chantilly. He also became a justice of the peace in 1757 and joined the Virginia House of Burgess in 1758. He quickly became a great defender of colonial rights, a not-so-popular stance in the early days of the “revolution.”

He led a group of “gentlemen” in confronting the British-appointed collector of stamps, and in 1766, he and many of his neighbors formed a boycott against British goods until the Stamp Act was repealed. His wife died in 1768, but he was not widowed long. In 1769, he married another Anne: Anne Pinckard. For the years between this second marriage and the beginning of the Revolutionary War, he built up his shipping business, specifically shipping tobacco to his brother William in London. 

 File:Richard Henry Lee Signature2.svg - Wikimedia Commons commons.wikimedia.org


File:Richard Henry Lee Signature2.svg – Wikimedia Commons
commons.wikimedia.org

From the Stratford Hall website, we learn, “Tall, thin and aristocratic in appearance, Richard Henry Lee was a born orator. He used his hand, always wrapped in black silk due to a hunting accident, to emphasize the cadences in his remarkably musical voice. His oratory was legend – ‘That fine polish of language which that gentleman united with that harmonious voice so as to make me sometimes fancy that I was listening to some being inspired with more than mortal powers of embellishment’ was how one observer described him.

Confrontational by nature, Richard Henry possessed a fiery, rebellious spirit. These same qualities brought him fame as a leading patriot of the day and incited the wrath of his enemies. At one point, he was ‘outlawed’ by a proclamation of English Governor Dunmore.

“As a member of Virginia’s House of Burgesses, Richard Henry’s first bill boldly proposed ‘to lay so heavy a duty on the importation of slaves as to put an end to that iniquitous and disgraceful traffic within the colony of Virginia.’ Africans, he wrote, were ‘equally entitled to liberty and freedom by the great law of nature.’ Such words, coming as they did in 1759, have been called ‘the most extreme anti-slavery statements made before the nineteenth century.'”

According to Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, “Lee remained involved in politics. He was appointed delegate to the Continental Congress in 1775, and was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence in 1776. He served next in the Virginia House of Delegates in 1777, 1780, and 1785.

“When the Constitution was laid before Congress, Lee led the opposition to it. His chief concern was that the Convention, called only to amend the Articles of Confederation, had exceeded its powers.

 

“He worried also that the Constitution lacked a bill of rights; that it was a consolidated, rather than a federal, government and therefore opened the way to despotism; and that the lower house was not sufficiently democratic. He insisted upon amendments before adoption. His arguments were set forth in a series of ‘Letters of the Federal Farmer’ which became a textbook for the opposition.” (Colonial Williamsburg Foundation)

“By 1774, the flames of the Revolution, so faithfully fanned by the Lees, ignited the reluctant southern colonies. The call for an inter-colonial congress was made, and Richard Henry was chosen as one of the seven-man Virginia delegation to the first Continental Congress in Philadelphia. Once there, he was able to bridge the gap between the vastly different worlds of New England and the South. At the house of his sister, Alice Lee Shippen, he strengthened the bond with John and Samuel Adams and created a long-lasting friendship that transcended divisive regionalism and helped to unite the colonies as one nation.

“In the spring of 1776, Richard Henry, now joined by his brother Francis Lightfoot, took his seat in the second Continental Congress. Sensing what lay ahead, he wrote confidently to his brother William, ‘There never appeared more perfect unanimity among any sett of men, than among the delegates.’

“In three months as delegate, Richard Henry served on 18 different committees – none as important as his appointment to frame the Declaration of Rights of the Colonies, which led directly to the writing of the Declaration of Independence. On June 7, 1776, Richard Henry was accorded the well-deserved honor of introducing the bill before Congress:
…that these united Colonies are, and ought to be, free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance from the British crown, and than all political connection between America and State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved…” (Stratford Hall)

Also See:

The Society of Descendants of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence

Posted in America, American History, British history, Declaration of Independence, Great Britain, real life tales | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Pauper’s Graves

In my latest Dragonblade book, Lost in the Lyon’s Garden, I deal with the removal of a loved one of the heroine from a pauper’s grave. What were they? What were the regulations for such burials in the Regency era?

William Thomas Smedley – Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, May 1885, October 1885, Vol. XXX
“I COME TO CLAIM MY DEAD.” sketch by artist

First, let us look at the terms often used for such a burial place: Potter’s field. Potter’s field is a term of Biblical origin, a place dedicated for the burial of the bodies of unknown, unclaimed or indigent people. In addition to such dedicated cemeteries, most places have provision for pauper’s funerals to pay for basic respectful treatment of dead people without family or others able to pay, without a special place for interment.

The term “potter’s field” comes from Matthew 27:3–27:8 in the New Testament of the Bible, in which Jewish priests take 30 pieces of silver returned by a remorseful Judas:

Then Judas, who betrayed him, seeing that he was condemned, repenting himself, brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and ancients, saying: “I have sinned in betraying innocent blood.” But they said: “What is that to us? Look thou to it.” And casting down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed, and went and hanged himself with a halter. But the chief priests, having taken the pieces of silver, said: “It is not lawful to put them into the corbona [A poor boxalms boxoffertory box, or mite box is a box that is used to collect coins for charitable purposes.], because it is the price of blood.” And after they had consulted together, they bought with them the potter’s field, to be a burying place for strangers. For this the field was called Haceldama, that is, the field of blood, even to this day. — Douay–Rheims Bible

The site referred to in these verses is traditionally known as Akeldama, in the valley of Hinnom, which was a source of potters’ clay. After the clay was removed, such a site would be left unusable for agriculture, being full of trenches and holes, thus becoming a graveyard for those who could not be buried in an orthodox cemetery.

“Buried in a pauper’s grave” refers to the burial of a deceased person, unable to afford a funeral, in an unmarked or common grave, often called a potter’s field. These graves are for the indigent, unknown, or unclaimed, where bodies are placed when families cannot cover burial costs or identify the deceased. The term can also be used metaphorically to describe someone who is financially reckless and likely to die destitute.  

What it means literally

A pauper’s grave is reserved for people who die without the financial means to pay for a traditional burial or who are unclaimed by family. 

These burial grounds are also known as potter’s fields, a term with a Biblical origin describing a place where strangers, criminals, and the poor were buried. 

Graves in potter’s fields are often unmarked or have simple, low-quality markers, making it difficult to identify the specific individuals buried there. 

Why it happens

The primary reason is the deceased’s or their family’s inability to afford a private burial, leading to a public or indigence burial service. 

Sometimes, the deceased has no known relatives to claim the body and make burial arrangements. 

Historical context 

In early history of both England and the eastern U.S., a pauper’s burial was considered a great disgrace and a lasting blow to a family’s reputation.

The coffins used in pauper burials were of poor quality and could crack, sometimes even causing bodies to fall out.

Enjoy this scene from Lost in the Lyon’s Garden where Lord Benjamin Thompson and Lord Aaran Graham attempt to learn whether Miss Victoria Whitchurch’s sister now lies in a pauper’s grave.

Benjamin had known relief when he rode into the circle in the middle of the street upon which he lived. He could see the open door on Miss Whitchurch’s side of the house, and, for the briefest of seconds he thought perhaps she had anticipated his return. 

Then he noted the unfamiliar carriage before the house and was immediately alarmed. Benjamin edged the horse closer and dismounted, only to hear a squeal that sounded very much as if it was Miss Whitchurch, as well as cries of alarm. 

Without considering the consequences, he charged up the steps. A man stood over Miss Whitchurch, and Benjamin no longer saw reason. She was sprawled at the man’s feet, and he appeared to be prepared to kick her. 

Benjamin caught the man from behind, pulling him upward and off the floor to slam the fellow down hard on the brick tiles. Heaving in anger, he lorded over the fellow who was attempting to rise to his knees. 

“I advise you to stay down,” he growled, as two women assisted Miss Whitchurch from the floor. “Better yet,” he hissed. “Crawl your way out of my house and never darken my door again.” 

“My lord,” Miss Whitchurch rushed to his side, her hand resting on Benjamin’s back, and that flicker of hope had arrived again in his chest. “It is Mr. Betts. He wishes to see the boy.” 

“Conceiving a child does not make a man a father,” Benjamin declared in hard tones. “Nor does it make a woman a mother. If you wish to visit the child, find Miss Cassandra and bring her here. Miss Whitchurch would gladly provide her sister access to the child. Otherwise, you should be gone from my home before I count to ten. Never cross over my portal again. One . . . two . . .” 

Mr. Betts struggled to his feet as Benjamin continued to count, “Five . . . six . . .” Betts lifted his chin in defiance. “I cannot bring Cassandra here.” 

“Eight . . .” Benjamin said over the man’s protests, while Miss Whitchurch demanded, “Why?”

“Because your sister has been dead since early June!” 

Benjamin caught Miss Whitchurch when she swooned, scooping her into his arms to carry her to the nearest arm chair, where he sat and cradled her on his lap. Behind him, he knew Patterson and the others escorted Mr. Betts and the women outside. He heard Patterson instruct one of the footmen to accompany the women home safely, while the butler and Brunswick led Mr. Betts to the fellow’s carriage.

Meanwhile, Benjamin held the woman who owned his heart upon his lap. He rocked her as he might have rocked the child. “I have you, love,” he whispered close to her ear. 

She moaned and snuggled closer to him. “Cold,” she sighed. 

“A blanket, Mr. Patterson,” Benjamin ordered as his butler locked the outside door. 

Within less than a minute, Patterson returned with a covering. “Here, my lord.” His man spread a small blanket over Miss Whitchurch’s shoulders and back. “Poor dear,” Patterson murmured. 

“See the others, including Mrs. Sullivan and the boy, into the main part of the house and send someone to tend my horse. Miss Whitchurch has had a shock. We will join everyone later.” 

“Assuredly, my lord.” Mr. Patterson gently tucked the blanket about the lady before he ushered everyone who was looking on in concern from the room. 

“Just rest as long as you need,” he told her. “I will not leave you,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. “You are safe with me.” 

How long they remained as such, Benjamin did not know nor did he care. The lady required someone she could trust, and, like it or not, he wanted to be that person in her life. Darkness had filled the room before she did more than trace the outline of his stick pin. “Could Mr. Betts have told the truth?” she asked at last. 

“I cannot say with confidence,” he replied. “We know your sister did not apply for the cook’s position at The Red Rooster, but we do not know if she found work elsewhere, Now, with Mrs. Taylor’s demise, even if Miss Cassandra searched you out at your former quarters, she would not learn of your directions unless she called at Sustar’s.” 

“I thought I heard her that morning in the close when you pulled me into your arms,” she reasoned aloud. 

Benjamin did not deny her hopes, though he knew she likely heard what she wanted to hear, as the mind sometimes plays such tricks upon a person. Instead, he said, “With all that has happened of late, I am confident Duncan has not completed his inquiries on your behalf. Lord Liverpool has demanded Duncan’s constant attention, but only a day ago, Lord Graham volunteered to take up the cause. Graham performs often in a covert manner. He has many connections that others do not.” 

“Do you think he could discover Cassandra?” she asked softly. 

“I will send a message around to him and accept his assistance,” Benjamin assured. “You must understand, if Betts’s words prove true . . .” 

“He was likely with her when Cassandra died. Perhaps he had something to do with her death.” 

<<<>>>

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Graham,” Benjamin said as he shook his brother’s hand. 

“Your message said there was some urgency.” 

Benjamin poured them both a drink before he explained his purpose. “I wish to accept your offer to assist Miss Whitchurch in locating her sister.” He motioned Graham to a nearby chair. 

“Of course, but what has brought on your heightened concerns?” Graham asked as he lowered his weight into the chair. 

Benjamin sat heavily. “God was guiding my steps today. I arrived home to find Mr. Jonas Betts harassing Miss Whitchurch. He had forced himself into the house.” 

Graham grinned, his scar puckering his lips on one side. “I pray you kicked his arse into the street. Betts is a prat of the first realm.” 

Benjamin sighed heavily. “I was too busy slamming him into the tiled floor to kick his arse. He put his filthy hand on Miss Whitchurch.” 

“Next time, remember, we all know permanent ways to be rid of a body.” Graham’s smile widened. 

Benjamin permitted Graham’s easy manner to calm his frustration. “Next time,” he said, “I will follow your advice. Yet, what was worse was the dastard said something that I must investigate, but I have no idea where to begin.” 

“As I have said previously, I am your servant,” Graham assured. “Do you possess a starting point for our search? What has been done previously?’

“Unfortunately, I have failed the lady in that manner. I have become accustomed to her presence in my house, and I fear I have unconsciously not pursued any leads because I did not wish for Miss Whitchurch to leave. Moreover, it has taken the lady longer than it should have to trust me,” Benjamin admitted. He sighed again. “While I was ordering Mr. Betts from my home, Miss Whitchurch was begging him to bring Miss Cassandra to see the child, to which Betts responded that Cassandra Whitchurch was dead. Has been dead since early June.” 

“How would Betts know that?” Graham asked with a frown. 

“Betts could have been performing in a purposeful manner to harm Miss Whitchurch, for she repeatedly rejected his advances, even going so far as to take up a position as a teacher in a girls’ school in Bath to avoid him, while the younger sister encouraged Betts’s advances,” Benjamin confided. 

“And you came by this information how?” Graham asked with a lift of his brows in apparent amusement.  

Benjamin found himself grinning. “I asked what those from Hampshire in Duncan’s office knew of Lord Betts and his son.” 

Graham nodded his approval. “Always best to speak to those close to the source.” 

Benjamin continued. “Miss Whitchurch has heard nothing from her sister since she left the child in Miss Whitchurch’s room at the boarding house, which is exactly what has Betts’s assertions making more sense—that Miss Cassandra has been dead since early June. As best as we can derive, that was when Titan sent Cassandra Whitchurch to The Red Rooster, though, as I mentioned previously, Duncan and I confirmed the woman never applied for the position as cook at the inn. Since she left the child with her sister, Miss Cassandra has made no attempt to contact Miss Whitchurch. Never even presented her sister one pence for the care of the boy. Though I would not say so to the lady, Betts’s assertion holds more merit than I would like to present it.” 

“If Miss Cassandra is dead, without money or identity, she would be likely to be found in a pauper’s grave,” Graham warned. “I can begin there, but I believe it would do me well to speak to Titan and, perhaps, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. To learn more about the young woman. Do you object?” 

“Whatever it takes,” Benjamin assured. “We can no longer dance around this craziness. Miss Whitchurch refuses to have the boy christened, though Miss Cassandra told her in the note she left for her sister, to name the child, which sounds to me as if the woman had no desire to face her mistakes every day for the rest of her life. Yet, I cannot say that to Miss Whitchurch. She requires closure before she can claim her own life.” 

“Does Miss Cassandra resemble Miss Whitchurch? I will be required to describe her to those I ask.” Graham asked. 

Benjamin handed Graham a sketch of Miss Cassandra. It was between two sheets of card stock and tied off with a ribbon. “Miss Whitchurch drew this to show the boy something of his mother as he grew older. She had it put away with the things she brought from the boarding house. I did not ask if she performed so to keep her sister’s memory equally alive for herself, but it may be useful to whoever might have prepared the body for interment, especially if all roads lead to a pauper’s grave as you suggested. For identity purposes.” 

“Is it a true likeness?” Graham asked. 

“I did not view it, but I have seen several others of Miss Whitchurch’s drawings. She has sketched the child twice, and those were quite good.” 

Graham nodded his head in understanding before asking, “I suppose if I find the girl’s grave, you mean to have her exhumed and . . .” 

“And buried again on my Kent estate. Her parents cannot accept the girl in their home shire, and I plan to marry Miss Whitchurch, and she and the boy will want to honor Miss Cassandra and remember her. No one in Kent will know more than what I tell them. The child will be an orphan raised by his aunt. I will see to the boy’s schooling and assist him as best I can. Miss Whitchurch and I will present the child the legitimacy his own parents refused.”

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Luddites as Marsden Mill ~ Who Were the Luddites?

Frame breaking from the Penny Magazine 1844

Frame breaking from the Penny Magazine, 1844

The Luddite movement plays a part of my Dragonblade Publishing series, with book 4, Lost in the Lyon’s Garden, coming out in mid March. Throughout the series, we have seen Lord Aaran Graham, infiltrating the group, and, with the climax of book 3, we find the British government sentencing many of the Luddites to death or transportation. But who were the Luddites? For what did they protest?

The Luddites were textile workers afraid that automated machinery would replace them, just as many of us in this modern day world worry that artificial intelligence is coming for our jobs. The Luddites also held concerns regarding pay and output quality. If you have ever read Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South or have seen the miniseries for the book, you have an idea of the conditions in the factories. Of course, Gaskell’s novel takes place closer to the end of the Industrial Revolution, while my story takes place in the middle of the Napoleonic Wars, specifically in 1812.

The Luddites opposed the use of certain types of automated machinery due to concerns relating to worker pay and output quality. They often destroyed the machines in organised raids. [“Who were the Luddites?”. History.com.] Members of the group referred to themselves as Luddites, self-described followers of “Ned Ludd“, a legendary weaver whose name was used as a pseudonym in threatening letters to mill owners and government officials. [Binfield, Kevin (2004). “Foreword”. Writings of the Luddites. Johns Hopkins University Press. pp. xiv.]

Public Domain

Beginning in Nottinghamshire, the sentiments and the violence associated with the Luddite movement spread to the north and west, as well as to Yorkshire. The mill owners began to hire men to keep the protestors out, and even the Prime Minister, Spencer Perceval, had troops move against the protestors. Perceval was assassinated in 1812, but such did not slow down the government’s attack on the Luddites. Those who were caught were either executed (as was the situation in my series, being hanged at York Castle) or were transported to penal colonies. [“Luddites in Marsden: Trials at York”]

Eventually, the term “Luddite” came to mean any who were opposed to the use of new technologies. Should we begin to use the term as we privately “curse” the use of A/I in taking over the world?

The movement was believed to have been founded by Ned Ludd, but he was never identified, and may well be mythical. Some authorities claim his surname to be Ludlam. The movement was dedicated to destroying machinery, not people

Lord Liverpool, the Prime Minister after Spencer Perceval, instigated severe measures, culminating in a mass trial at York in 1813. [This trial is the background for the climax of book 3 of my series.]

The Luddites in Marsden

Marsden is located in West Yorkshire, England, in the Colne Valley, near Huddersfield and the Peak District National Park, and in Marsden, by the end of the Napoleonic Wars, food was scarce and unemployment high.

Living in Marsden were two brothers, James and Enoch Taylor, both blacksmiths by trade. These brothers built a cropping machine that could do the work of 10 croppers. Obviously, the mill owners realized the innovation could save them both money and time and began installing the machines in their mills.

There was also a man, another “Enoch,” who make sledgehammers, which were naturally called “Enochs.” The Luddites used a rallying cry of “Enoch made the, and Enoch shall break them!” when they attacked the different mills to destroy the cropping machines.

“Apparently, the law-abiding menfolk of Marsden were stirred to riot by “desperate men of Longroyd Bridge!” The first riot was at the scene of William Horsfall’s mill, which had been fortified.

“The leader of the Marsden Luddites was George Mellor. He could read and write, and while in prison signed a petition calling for Parliamentary reform. He worked at John Wood’s finishing shop at Longroyd Bridge, along with Benjamin Walker, who, according to some, was to betray them eventually. New documentary evidence, however, seems to suggest that this may not be altogether true. Regular troops and cavalry were brought in and quartered in the village.” [Marsden History]

Read in Kindle Unlimited!

Enjoy this new series within The Lyon’s Den Connected world by Regina Jeffers.

Book 1 – Lyon in the Way

Book 2 – Lyon’s Obsession

Book 3 – Lyon in Disguise

Book 4 – Lost in the Lyon’s Garden

Book 5 – Lyon on the Inside

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Insights on the Position of Justice of the Peace in Regency England

Question: How were JPs/magistrates selected? Was it a local decision process, or were the London Courts involved too?

In Regency England, the position of Justice of the Peace (JP) was a crucial part of local governance, particularly in maintaining law and order. JPs, typically drawn from the ranks of the gentry, were unpaid officials responsible for a wide range of duties, including administering justice, supervising local officials, and managing various community services. 

Most sources list their Key Responsibilities as being:

  • Law Enforcement: JPs were the primary law enforcement officers at the local level, responsible for investigating crimes, apprehending suspects, and conducting preliminary hearings. 
  • Judicial Functions: They presided over petty sessions (minor offenses) and quarter sessions (more serious cases). 
  • Supervision of Local Officials: They oversaw constables, watchmen, and other local officials, ensuring the proper functioning of the legal system. 
  • Community Management: They were involved in various aspects of community life, including fixing wages, regulating alehouses, overseeing poor relief, and managing road and bridge repairs. 
  • Enforcing Government Policies: They acted as agents of the central government, implementing policies and ensuring compliance within their counties. 

Justice of the Peace were customarily chosen from the ranks of the landed gentry or the aristocracy. They could also be wealthy merchants and the like. We might think no one would want such a position, for it had LOTS of responsibility, but no monetary compensation, but, more than a few men enjoyed the social standing and influence it provide them within their community.

The office of Justice of the Peace has been around since the medieval period, but its role in the safety of and the functioning of a community grew substantially during the Tudor and Stuart eras. The role of Justice of the Peace became a key part of the English governmental system and were especially important in the rural areas, forming a “squirearchy” of sorts when the landed gentry held significant power. They still held significant power during the Regency era, but the Local Government Act of 1888 brought about great changes. The Local Government Act of 1888 established county councils and county borough councils in England and Wales, creating a two-tier system of local government. This act significantly reorganized local administration by transferring certain powers and responsibilities from other authorities to these newly formed councils. 

Some JPs were knighted. They are Austen scholars who believe this was true of Sir William Lucas in Pride and Prejudice. Austen, herself, never suggests this. All she tells us is Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty.

A letter to a local JP would be sent to his home. A letter to a magistrate of a police office would be addressed to him there.

According to Debretts, magistrates have a JP at the end of their name, but that is optional. In court, he would be addressed as “Your Worship” or simply “Sir.” 

There were two or three classes or categories of local  courts.

The Justice of the Peace made application to the one in charge of the rolls of JPs– usually the Lord Lieutenant. The Lord Lieutenant forwarded the name to the King who consulted the Lord Chancellor and/or his attorney general and solicitor general or not. The Lord Chancellor sent a commission for the man to be a Justice of the Peace in a specific county. Men who were actively working in law could not apply. The man required a private income of around £300 a year, though heirs of peers usually did not have to prove his income. The JP’s were not paid but had ways of having an income though, some slipped up and took too much. Those who had been too greedy were then tried at the criminal side of King’s Bench Court.

The Aldermen and Lord Mayor of London were elected  in the city of London, and they automatically also became magistrates for London. They also made up the panel of judges at Old Bailey with one of the judges of the high courts. Various town corporations had their own way of appointing or naming magistrates. The magistrates of the public offices as the  places were called Westminster were paid a salary. They were also appointed by the Crown. Most of the men did not have any legal training at all.  Books such as the Justice of the  Peace and Parish Officer were written for their use.

The Justice of the Peace and Parish Officer
Richard Burn; Thomas D’Oyly; Edward Vaughan Williams
Published by T. Cadell, London, 1836

The JPs and magistrates held summary courts, that means no jury. They heard the accusation and what defence there might be and either sentenced the person to the stocks, the pillory, a stay in jail, or to be held for the assize where a jury trial would be held and the accused could be sentenced to death or transportation. JPs and magistrates could levy fines or brief periods of incarceration, but not death or transportation. The JPs worked on regulations for business licenses. Some matters were held over to the Quarter session when all the JPs of a county met to deal with some problems.

The Thames Police had jurisdiction of all crimes committed on the river and the docks. The Thames Police Office had 21 river surveyors, 8 land constables, 69 river constables, 2 watchmen, 2 door keepers, and 1 messenger. Patrick Colquhoun was the receiver in 1815.

The most famous of the magistrate offices was the one at Bow Street in Westminster. This had been started by the Fielding brothers in the 18th century.

In 1815, the chief  magistrate at Bow Street was Sir Nathaniel Conant.  He received £ 1200 a year. His two associate magistrates earned £600 each.

Other magistrates at public offices were at Great Marlborough Street; 

Hatton-Garden; 

Worship Street, Shoreditch;

Lambeth Street, Whitechapel; 

High-street, Shadwell 

Queen Square, Westminster (the chief magistrate there was Patrick Colquhoun)

Union Hall, Southwark. 

Other Sources:

Criminal Justice 1788-1851 East Riding Museums

Pen and Pension

Vanessa Riley’s Research Blog

Posted in aristocracy, British history, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Great Britain, history, laws of the land, Living in the Regency, Living in the UK, real life tales, Regency era, research | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments