Chris Payne's Blog

Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, the subject of my 2011 book ‘The Chieftain‘

On 12th May 1869, Chief Inspector Adolphus (‘Dolly’) Williamson was promoted to Superintendent and head of an expanded Detective Department at Scotland Yard. At the same time, the man who was to become Williamson’s deputy, Inspector George Clarke, was promoted to Chief Inspector during the most radical changes to the  detective force in London since 1842.

When the London Metropolitan Police Force was established in 1829, its principal role was crime prevention. Crime detection was given a lower priority, and the delay in establishing  a plain clothes detective force was also attributable to concerns that this would lead to a civilian-spy system similar to those found in some European countries. There were additional fears that men in plain clothes would also be more susceptible to corruption. Nonetheless, by 1842 the over-riding need for a detective force in London had become apparent and a small Detective Department  containing 8 men was established. The strong interest and support that the author and social reformer, Charles Dickens, displayed towards the new detectives probably helped offset some, though not all, of the initial public concerns.  Writing in Household Words (1850), Dickens commented:

Charles Dickens, 1868; a fan of the Scotland Yard Detective Department (Wikipedia)

“The Detective Force….is so well chosen and trained, proceeds so systematically and quietly, does its business in such a workmanlike manner, and is always so calmly and steadily engaged in the service of the public, that the public really do not know enough of it, to know a tithe of its usefulness.”

By 1862, when my great-great-grandfather George Clarke first joined the department as a Sergeant, there were 10 detectives at Scotland Yard. In November 1867, a further modest increase to 15 detectives had been approved by the Home Office at the time of the Fenian Conspiracy  but  was  not acted on until the long-serving Police Commissioner, Sir Richard Mayne, died in December 1868 and was replaced by a new broom, Colonel Edmund Henderson.

Colonel Edmund Henderson, Metropolitan Police Commissioner 1869-1886 (Wikipedia)

It seems that Henderson had fewer reservations about increasing the number of detectives in London and, on the same day that Williamson and  Clarke were promoted, Henderson announced that the Scotland Yard Detective Department would be increased to 27 staff including a Superintendent (Williamson), 3 Chief Inspectors, 3 Inspectors and 20 Sergeants.  In addition, a few days later, approval was given for a total of  180 new detectives (Sergeants and Constables) to be appointed across the Metropolitan Police’s Divisions.  As a consequence, the number of detectives in the Force had, on paper, increased from 15 to 207.  The team of 27 at Scotland Yard  reported direct to the Police Commissioner, and the remaining 180 to their relevant Divisional Superintendents.  This divergence in line-management was to remain a bone of contention until the later establishment of the CID (Criminal Investigation Department) in 1878.

An interest in matters criminal has thrived across several centuries.  The ‘Detective Story’ has become a very popular and entertaining part of modern literature; however, within this literature, it is the fictional detective that has predominated.  This contrasts somewhat with the Victorian age where news of the exploits of the real detectives fascinated not only Charles Dickens but, increasingly a high proportion of the population, through newspaper reports and word-of-mouth.

‘The Chieftain‘ a biography of Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, published by The History Press, 2011

The recent ‘resurrection’ of Inspectors Richard Tanner, and Jonathan Whicher, by the authors Kate Colquhoun (“Mr Briggs’ Hat”) and Kate Summerscale (“The Suspicions of Mr Whicher”), respectively, has provided a  fresh look at some of the realities of life for the Victorian Scotland Yard detective. My personal interest in Victorian detectives has been in unearthing the story behind George Clarke’s detective career, now published in my biography of him, ‘The Chieftain’.  However, I’m sure that further investigation of his colleagues in the burgeoning mid-Victorian Scotland Yard Detective Department would prove of equal merit.  By mid-1869, Tanner and Whicher were no longer at Scotland Yard, but ‘Dolly’ Williamson and  his senior colleagues were an interesting bunch and, in my view, worthy of further research in their own right. For that reason I’ve decided to provide brief pen-pictures of the men occupying these positions  in the hope of sparking further interest in them; starting today with Superintendent ‘Dolly’ Williamson. In future blog posts I intend to add similar pen-pictures of those men filling the ranks of Chief Inspector and Inspector at Scotland Yard during the 1870s.

Superintendent Adolphus Frederick Williamson

Superintendent Adolphus  Frederick Williamson

Known to friends and colleagues as ‘Dolly’, Adolphus Williamson was a Scot whose father had been Superintendent of T Division (Hammersmith). His first job was as a temporary clerk in the War Department before he decided to follow his father into the Metropolitan Police in 1850.  Initially working as an assistant clerk in P Division (Camberwell), he gained promotion and joined the detective department as a Sergeant in 1852.  He later went on to become the Head of Scotland Yard’s Detective Department, achieving the ranks of Chief Inspector, Superintendent and District Superintendent/Chief Constable en route.

During his long 36-year career at Scotland Yard Williamson was involved in many of the high profile criminal investigations of his day.  This included his early work with Inspector Whicher on the initially ‘unsolved’ case of the Road Hill House murder.  Once Constance Kent confessed to the crime several years after the initial investigation had failed to reach a satisfactory conclusion, it was Williamson as Head of Department who concluded the case. He was at the forefront of the Detectives’ involvement in investigations of  Irish Terrorism on the British mainland, during the Fenian Conspiracy (1865-1868) and in the 1880s when a bomb explosion in London in March 1883 marked the start of another Fenian campaign. A ‘Special Irish Branch’ (the forerunner of Special Branch) was established under his leadership a month later. Well-liked and respected by his colleagues, Williamson’s reputation was nonetheless fortunate to survive (apparently unscathed) when, in 1877, his Department’s three Chief Inspectors (Clarke, Nathaniel Druscovich and William Palmer) were arrested and tried for corruption in the now notorious ‘Trial of the Detectives‘.

St John Evangelist Church, Smith Square. Location of Williamson’s funeral

Williamson is said to have had a great capacity for hard work, combining it with a dry sense of humour.  As a young man he was a powerful sculler and a devotee of the annual Oxord-Cambridge boat race, but like Wilkie Collins’ ‘Sergeant Cuff’, his principal relaxation was gardening.  He died on 9th December 1889, still in post, though for some months prior to his death his health had failed. The Home Secretary expressed his “…deep regret with which he hears of Mr. Williamson’s death, and of his sense of the great loss which the Police and Public have sustained in being deprived of an Officer distinguished for his skill, prudence and experience and whose life has been unsparingly devoted to the Public Service.” The Prince of Wales (later King Edward VII) expressed similar sentiments. Williamson’s well-attended funeral service was held at St John Evangelist church in London’s Smith Square (now a popular concert venue).

I apologise for the shortage of new blog posts in the last six to seven weeks.  However, don’t blame me, blame Billy Hughes.

Billy Hughes, called to the New South Wales Bar in 1903

This year I somewhat over-enthusiastically committed myself to preparing two new talks within a month.  One of these was on the topic of “The Little Digger; The impact of William Morris Hughes (Australian Prime Minister) on the Great War and its Aftermath”. It was a lot more fun to do than the title suggests, but it has taken up a considerable amount of time in the last few weeks .

I first came across Billy Hughes when reading some of my Grandfather’s letters written while he was serving in the British Army during the Great War.  On the 4th May 1918 he wrote to my grandmother: “I note Bill Hughes has been wounded and is at Bristol.  Do you know if his father will come from Australia this year? Last Sunday our padre opened his sermon with a reference to one of Mr Hughes’ speeches in London – I well remember the speech – it was the one he made at the Queen’s Hall in June 1916″.

Charlie Payne’s (my grandfather) letter of 4th May 1918 from the Western Front, mentioning ‘Bill Hughes’ and ‘Mr. Hughes’

At that time, I hadn’t a clue who Bill Hughes or his father were.  However, ‘Mr Hughes’ sounded a rather newsworthy person and I  decided to Google the words “Hughes, Australia” though I expected little success.  Instead, I found gold straight away. My search highlighted a Wikipedia article on ‘Billy Hughes’ the Prime Minister of Australia, between 1915 and 1923.  That led me to the website of the National Library of Australia which holds his archive, and that contained some correspondence from a ‘George Payne’.  Knowing that my great-grandfather was called George Payne, I sent for copies of the letters, which gave me all the proof I needed as they had been written from my great-grandfather’s home address. Billy Hughes and George Payne had, for some serendipitous reason, been the best of friends. I was now hooked: wanting to find out how the two men might have become friends, how Hughes had become Prime Minister of Australia and what part he played in Australia’s considerable contribution to the First World War. That is  the basis of my new talk.

George Payne c 1895

Billy Hughes emerged during my research as a character who, when you start reading about him, you simply can’t put him down. Born in London in 1862 to Welsh parents he spent some of his early years in Llandudno before returning to the Westminster area of London when he was about 12 years old. There he attended St Stephen’s School near Rochester Row, and it is at that school that he must have first met my great grandfather, George Payne, whose father ran a Cutler’s business in that street. The two boys remained lifelong friends, with George Payne and his wife Louisa, helping to pay Billy Hughes’ fare when he decided in 1884 to emigrate to Australia on an assisted passage. Struggling to make ends meet, Billy Hughes was employed for several years in a number of seasonal and labouring jobs in the bush and towns of Queensland, before arriving in Sydney as a galley hand on a coastal steamer.

After settling in Sydney he became involved in socialist politics in New South Wales, becoming an elected Member of the NSW State assembly in 1894, and a Member of the House of Representatives (MHR) of the first Australian Federal Parliament in 1901. In October 1915 he became Prime Minister of Australia at a critical time during the First World War. As a great patriot and supporter of the British Empire he remained Prime Minister until 1923, and continued as a MHR until his death in 1952. However, he remains one of the most historically controversial of Australian politicians for his pragmatic style of politics and, in particular, the decisions he took in 1916 which led to a major split in the parliamentary Labor Party.  It seems that even to this day, he is regarded as a ‘Rat’ by Labor for  his actions then.

US President, Woodrow Wilson (Wikipedia)

I may be biased for familial reasons, but it seems to me that Billy Hughes was a wartime Prime Minister of great physical and intellectual courage. He is also a source of some of the most wonderful anecdotes:  my favorite anecdote being when he was in the role of enfant terrible as a member of the British Empire Delegation to the Peace Conference in 1919, and was striving to secure German New Guinea as a mandated territory of Australia, in a bid to help improve the security of Australia’s northern seaboard. His dialogue with the US President Woodrow Wilson ( the two men did not get on) is believed to have taken the following format, with David Lloyd George attempting to referee the confrontation:

Wilson:“Do I understand that Australia in the face of the wishes of the world would insist upon having her own way?” Hughes: “That’s about the size of it, Mr. President.”

Wilson continued: “Do you think 5 million Australians should hold to ransom the 1,200 million represented by the Conference”. Hughes: “I speak for sixty thousand (war) dead. For how many do you speak?” which as everyone knew was more than Wilson did.   Trying to defuse the situation, Lloyd George only sent it further into the depths of farce, asking:

“Would you allow missionaries free access to New Guinea?” Hughes responded: “Of course, I understand these poor people are very short of food, and for some time past they have not had enough missionaries.”  Little wonder perhaps that Wilson described Hughes as a “pestiferous varmint”.

Billy Hughes (right) pictured with Louisa and George Payne (centre and left), July 1919

My family, however, will remember Billy Hughes for the lifelong friendship he maintained with his old boyhood friend George Payne and George’s wife Louisa.  Apart from the letters from George Payne to Billy Hughes in the National Library of Australia archive, there appear to be only two complete surviving letters written byBilly Hughes to the Payne family (my thanks to my second cousin Mariya Ward for access to these)

The first of these letters was written shortly after Hughes had become Prime Minister. The fact that it was written on Christmas Day 1915, just as the Gallipoli campaign was ending, perhaps highlights the strength of the friendship. The second letter was written in 1934 to Dorothy Brauer [nee Payne; George and Louisa's daughter] following the death of Louisa Payne.

“25th December 1915

My dear George and Lou

I hope that all is well with you on this day. Peace which the hurt and wickedness of man has changed into a life and death struggle. The sun shines here in all its glory and it is indeed a typical Australian summer’s day.  Here all seems peaceful  and the blasts of war as far removed as Heaven from Hell.  But they are just posting up the 39^th casualty list and that is enough and more than enough to remind all Australians that all is not Peace.

I’ve not seen Fred [Fred Payne, George Payne's younger brother who emigrated to Australia in 1883] for years, yet he works in the same street as I do; Such is life!  I’m going to try and dig him out during the next few days. All being well  I shall probably be in London early in March and of course will see you.  Mrs Hughes and the baby will come with me (DV).

With best wishes from all here to you all.

W. M. Hughes”

Dorothy Brauer (nee Payne) and her Australian husband Leo, 1918

“14 December 1934

Dear Mrs Brauer

Your letter conveying the sad news of your mother’s death has just reached me and I am very sorry.  I know what a blow this must be to you: for she was a lovable woman and the kindest and best of mothers. I can hardly bring myself to think of her as dead!   I recall her as she was when I first met her years and years ago: the very incarnation of womanhood on the threshold of maturity.  I treasured her friendship and that of your dear father as one of my most precious  possessions; and through the long years of absence my thoughts turned again and again to them as I had known them when they and I were young and care-free. My dear Dorothy believe me, I deeply sympathise with your sorrow, and am yours most sincerely

W M Hughes

P.S. You must write me from time to time and if in trouble don’t forget to let me know.”

Louisa Payne (nee Burgess) c 1895

So, if you are interested in hearing my talk on Billy Hughes, I shall be presenting it at 7.30 pm on Tuesday 7th May 2013, at the North Lancs Branch meeting of the Western Front Association at the Kings Own Royal Regiment Museum, Lancaster, UK. On the other hand,  I could be persuaded to deliver it again at a venue near you with suitable enticement, including  travel expenses, particularly if you live outside the UK! See the ‘Talks‘ page on my website for further details.

If you’re interested in finding out more about Billy Hughes, I would recommend the following books;

“William Hughes, Australia” by Carl Bridge (2011) published by Haus Histories in the “Makers of the Modern World” series. An excellent modern evaluation of Hughes’s political contribution.  Concentrates on Hughes’s role in the 1919 Peace Conference

“Billy Hughes” by Aneurin Hughes (2005) published by John Wiley, Australia.  A short biography, strong on anecdotes and Hughes’s family relationships .

“That Fiery Particle” (1964) and “The Little Digger” (1979) by L F Fitzhardinge,  published by Angus and Robertson, Australia. A two-volume, and very comprehensive, political biography.

“The Billy Book” (1918) by David Low. Gloriously funny and razor-sharp satirical cartoons. Available as a free-download  at http://archive.org/details/billybookhughesa00lowdrich

I shall leave you with a few of my favorite quotations about, and by, Billy Hughes.

The Billiwog, from ‘The Billy Book’ of satirical cartoons by David Low

Said about Hughes:

“…arguably, the most formidable, most amusing, most Australian of our prime ministers.” [Jill Kitson]

“I didn’t agree with his politics but I’ll not hear a word against him.” [An old ‘Digger’]

“I’ll never work for [him] again.  I’d rather go to bed with a sabre-toothed tiger. As cold as sea-ice, vain as a peacock, cruel as a butcher bird, sly as a weasel and mean as cat shit”  [a former secretary]

Said by Hughes:

“They might go to the dogs and bet on ponies but they had enough sense to keep me in Parliament” [about the Australian electorate]

“They say I eat my secretaries.  It’s a lie. I’m on a strict medical diet.”

“Better to have fewer cleverer men and more ordinary ones. You’d get more done.”

If you are interested in finding out more about my publications and talks, please visit my website.

Charlie Payne c. 1903. Charlie was the grandson of Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke of Scotland Yard, the subject of my book ‘The Chieftain’

My paternal grandfather, Charlie Payne, is the subject of a book that I am currently writing on the First World War (working title: ‘Charlie’s War‘).  In addition to his wartime correspondence, Charlie left a number of diaries, one of the fullest and most entertaining of which is an account of time that he spent in Genoa while working for the American Express Company in 1907; he was 23 years old.  (At the time, Genoa was probably Italy’s most important port and finance centre.) Charlie’s diary  captures the spirit of youthful optimism and opportunity that existed for some in the Edwardian period, before the dark shadows of the Great War descended. The following description of his journey to Italy is the first entry in  ‘My Italian Diary’,  to which I have added some contemporaneous postcards and photographs that were amongst Charlie’s documents .

Monday 4^th March 1907.

Genoa Harbour and City c. 1907. Click on this and the other images to obtain enlarged versions

“What a crowd to see me off at Victoria.  I shall never forget it.  I had a very comfortable journey down to Newhaven, with only a young gentleman apprentice as a companion, who began telling me all about himself and family (Ma and Pa etc.).  It was a lovely sunny day and I thought the English meadowland looked glorius [sic].  I was soon on the boat, SS “Arundel” and about 12 o.c. (noon) we steamed out of the Harbour.  The sea was rather rough and we rocked a bit and the wind was very cold, but the sun was shining brightly.  There were not more than 30 passengers on board – mostly women, some of whom were soon very sick and bad, but I myself never felt so much as a qualm – so was very pleased with myself.  I eat [sic] my biscuits and drank some whisky in the stern of the boat with my eyes fixed to Beachy Head as long as possible and then at last that died away in the mist and that was the last I saw of old England.  The boat was rocking badly now, the spray swamping the bow until the passengers had to go below, but I stuck in the stern chatting with one of the crew.  I thoroughly enjoyed the experience and felt very happy – I think I ought to have been a sailor after all.

About 3 o’clock we caught a first glimpse of the French coast and very black and gloomy it looked and very rocky.  At about 3-15 we steamed into Dieppe Harbour.  Very similar to Newhaven, only smaller.  I soon skipped ashore and evading all the porters, beggars etc. made my way to the Customs House, but went straight thro’ without having my bag examined.  Dieppe as I saw it was very old and very quaint.

Dieppe c. 1907

I secured a corner seat in the train which left for Paris at 3-37 and got in a carriage marked “Fumeurs” (Smoking) and fell into conversation with two young Englishmen.  A Froggie got in, and I believe we nearly stifled him with our pipes – he kept on choking and looking fierce, but I appeased him by offering him a match for his cigarettes.  The scenery between Dieppe and Paris was rather fine, but oh so quaint, funny little cottages and farmhouses, churchyards, churches, villages, factories – all quaint and new to me.  I could fill pages in description if I had the time.  We stopped only once – a few minutes at Rouen and then on to Paris (St Lazare) which we reached at 7-15 p.m. and it was quite dark.

Paris Station. Oh my, what a glamour and a gabble.  I said good bye to one of my companions, and then with the other one changed some money (10/- for 12 francs) found a [Thomas] Cook’s interpreter, who took us to a hotel, where we had a wash and brush up, café au lait, ham and eggs etc., which cost me about 2/-.  Feeling much better and leaving my bag at the hotel, went for a walk about Paris. I was accompanied by one of Cook’s interpreters (a Frenchman named Rowe) to whom I paid 2 francs.  I got on a horse bus with my bag and had a ride through Paris to the Gare du Lyon.  Paris was full of life and light.

Paris cabs in the Rue Royale and Madeleine area c. 1907

The sights that caught my eye most were the cabs (small four wheeled things drawn by an apology for a horse, London cab horses are as thoroughbreds in comparison, the people sitting drinking and smoking in the boulevards outside the cafés and the funny looking electric cars.  I was a bit disappointed with my first view of Paris.  It is nothing like London and different to what I had expected, and the jabber enough to drive one silly. The American Express Company  Office was closed so I could not call.

Reaching Gare du Lyon about 9 o.c. [p.m.] I had 1½ hours to wait, which I employed in walking about the station.  At 10-30 I got in my train (“fumeurs” carriage of course) and my companions were 2 Italian ladies and one gentleman and one Froggie in a big fur coat.  All thro’ the night we travelled on and all went to to sleep except me.  Try as I would I could not get off, so settled down and read “Tit-Bits” and smoked.  The carriages were nicely heated and quite comfortable.  As daylight came on, I could see what glorius mountain scenery we were passing through.  Mountains whose summits were covered in snow and again others whose tops disappeared in the clouds.  Beautiful lakes and rivers (I do not know their names yet).  It was glorius scenery and far more imposing than ever I thought for.  Our first stop was about 7 o.c. a.m. at Aix-les-Bains, where I secured a café au lait for 50 cents, and then on again.  Cottages and farmhouses built right on the side of the mountains looked very nice but very dangerous.

Modane c 1907

All thro’ the day we raced on until Modane was reached and the C[ustoms] H[ouse] officials came aboard, but I again escaped being examined.  About 3 o.c. p.m. we reached Turin and from there on to Genoa was more or less flat scenery – not half so pretty as England.  I was cold and very hungry when Genoa was reached at 7 p.m. Tuesday.

1907 photograph of the Hotel Victoria, Genoa (with a commentary from Charlie)

I was met by Mr Wyeth, who conducted me to the Hotel Victoria (as my lodging was not ready) and engaged a room for 3 francs per night, and then paid my first visit to the Office, 17 Piazza della Nugiata, a very old building – formerly a palace – with old fashioned stairs and lofty painted ceilings and pictures on the walls.  A much superior place to 84 Queen Street, London [the American Express Office in London].

“Three Gentlemen of Genoa”. Charlie Payne (right) with Bambridge and Koth in the ‘Giardino’, 1907

Then I went to a café with an Englishman named Bambridge and a German named Koth (both my own age and very nice fellows) for dinner, which consisted of:- Macaroni soup, steak (very small piece) and potatoes, cheese, nuts and fruit, washed down with claret.  I was famished so did very well. Then a walk round Genoa and back to the Hotel Victoria.  It was a very old fashioned room where I slept, but the bed was clean and soft so after taking a dose of Eno’s, and being tired out I was soon asleep.”

The next time that Charlie travelled from England to continental Europe was on 1st August 1917 in a troopship, facing German submarines lurking in the English Channel , and the prospect of service in the British Expeditionary Force  as a Private in the 2/5th Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding) Regiment on the Western Front. Certainly not as enjoyable as his 1907 experiences…..

Having other commitments last night, I have only just been able to watch a recording of BBC2′s “Murder on the Victorian Railway”.  If I had known nothing about the case, I think I would have enjoyed it enormously.  It was wonderfully atmospheric, beautifully scripted and well-acted entertainment but I wish that the programme could have been longer, and the production team provided with a larger budget.  Why do I take that view? Essentially,  because I would have liked to have seen the moment portrayed on film when my great-great-Grandfather, Detective-Sergeant George Clarke, arrested Franz Muller in New York harbour on board the sailing ship Victoria.

Franz Muller, 1864

Detective-Sergeant ‘who’ I hear you ask; surely it was Inspector Tanner who made the arrest? Not so, as the court transcript (and Kate Colquhoun’s book on which the programme was based) reveal. The arrest, and its description in court was undertaken by Tanner’s sergeant who had travelled with him to New York.  Tanner only arrived on the Victoria some hours later, accompanied by the witness John Death, to conduct an ‘identification parade’.

Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, the subject of my 2011 book ‘The Chieftain’

It is perhaps natural that my greatest interest in this case centres around the involvement of my ancestor, Detective-Sergeant George Clarke.  Undoubtedly, it was Inspector Tanner who led the murder investigation. But as we all know from ‘Ripper Street’ and ‘The Suspicions of Mr Whicher’ all Detective-Inspectors are accompanied by a faithful Sergeant!

What is certain, is that the Thomas Briggs’ murder investigation was  the high water mark in Tanner’s detective career. In contrast, it proved to be the launching pad for Clarke’s even though he was already some 12 years older than Tanner. By the time that Franz Muller was hanged for Briggs’ murder, Clarke had already been put onto his next murder inquiry, the Plaistow Marshes murder.  In 1867, during his investigations into the Fenian Conspiracy, Clarke was promoted to Inspector and then in May 1869, at the age of 51, to Chief Inspector.  The outranked and younger Inspector Tanner retired a few weeks later in 1869 on grounds of ‘bodily infirmity’ and it does seem that poor health may have inhibited to some extent his progression within the Detective Department.  Nonetheless, Tanner still had sufficient energy in ‘retirement’ to run a pub in Winchester and to act as Secretary for his Fleet Street-based Lodge of Freemasons until his premature death in 1873.

Between 1869 and 1877, Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke was second-in-command of the Scotland Yard Detective Department, and tackled many of the major criminal investigations in that period, including several murders, serious thefts, arson, frauds and betting offences, the Tichborne Claimant case and the ‘Balham Mystery’ (the unresolved poisoning of Charles Bravo). Then, in October 1877 he found himself in the dock at the Old Bailey charged with corruption, alongside three of his Scotland Yard colleagues.  Though he was acquitted, there is little doubt that the notoriety surrounding the ‘Trial of the Detectives‘ has placed Clarke’s career in the historical shadows, or even (as in last night’s programme) completely off the cast-list.

‘The Chieftain’ a biography of Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, published by The History Press, 2011

Nonetheless, despite my personal niggle, last night’s production team produced an entertaining programme of high quality.  I would like to see more of the same please, but an extended running time and a bigger budget for a larger cast, to ensure that the ‘Sergeants’ in this world (who may ultimately prove to be particularly interesting) also get a look-in.  In the meantime you might like to read Kate Colquhoun’s excellent book ‘Mr Briggs’ Hat’ to flesh out last night’s progamme and, of course, my recent biography of Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, ‘The Chieftain‘.

Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, the subject of my 2011 book ‘The Chieftain’

Those of us interested in period crime, its detection and its social consequences, have seen something of a resurgence in media interest in the last couple of years both from the fictional perspective (e.g. in  the current ‘Ripper Street’ series) and the non-fictional (e.g. ‘The Suspicions of Mr Whicher’).  The most recent contribution to the non-fictional genre, ‘Murder on the Victorian Railway’  will be shown this week on BBC2,  on Thursday 22 February at 9 p.m. I understand that it will be principally based on  Kate Colquhoun’s  excellent and popular 2011 book “Mr Briggs’ Hat” which provides an analysis of the first murder on a British train, that occurred in  July 1864.

I confess to a particular interest in this crime because it was my great-great-grandfather, (then Detective-Sergeant) George Clarke who, with an American Police Officer, Sergeant John Tiernan, arrested  the suspected murderer.  It proved to be a major event in my ancestor’s police career; the first of his murder investigations  and a significant step towards the many other high profile criminal cases (including several other murders) that he later investigated. These are covered in detail in my recent book on Victorian crime and policing ‘The Chieftain‘.

‘The Chieftain’ a biography of Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, published by The History Press, 2011

It will therefore be of particular interest to me to see how the BBC2 documentary portrays the crime, and George Clarke’s part in its resolution.  In the meantime, I hope that you will get the chance to see ‘Murder on the Victorian Railway’ on Thursday evening. I’ll let you know my own thoughts about it in my next Blog post.

The joys of cycling captured in song (Wikipedia). Click on this photo (and other photos in this blog ) to enlarge.

Continuing with my historical blog posts, today’s offering covers a short-lived enthusiasm for cycling by an Edwardian ancestor.

With the development of pneumatic tyres and increasingly mass-produced bicycles, cycling became an important mode of transport and a popular outdoor pastime in the late Victorian and Edwardian periods. In 1903-4, if you could afford the £3-£5 necessary to purchase a new single-geared bicycle with at least one brake, new areas became readily-available for exploration.

As the geneticist Steve Jones reminds us, in the late 19th-early 20th centuries, the bicycle was probably the single most important factor in encouraging outbreeding between populations!  Whether it was this thought (consciously or unconsciously) that enouraged my grandfather Charlie Payne to develop a temporary interest in the bicycle is lost in the mists of time; however, his diaries for 1903 and 1904 provide a succinct record of his developing interest and ultimate loss of enthusiasm for cycling.  During this period, Charlie was 20-21 years old, living in East Dulwich, and working as a clerk (earning £1 per week) for a small firm in the City of London.

Charlie Payne c. 1903. Grandson of Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke of Scotland Yard (the subject of my recent book ‘The Chieftain‘)

Charlie’s first mention of a bicycle in the family was  in a diary entry written on 7 July 1903, closely followed by other references:

“7 July 1903: From 7-45 till 9 o.c. had the bike out in Townley Road. Gave Norman and  Beaty lessons. [Norman and Beaty were Charlie's younger brother and sister]

11 July 1903: Bike in Garden. Then from about 9 o.c. till 10-30 George and I had it out in the Townley Road.  We both learned to go alone. [George was Charlie's older brother]

13 July 1903: Out with the bike.  George and I can go well by ourselves.

8 August 1903: Cleaned bike, and had it out for a bit, but it went so badly that I decided not to start with George to-morrow.

9 August 1903: George started on his bike for Brighton.

15 August 1903: Indoors all the evening until 10 o.c., when I met George on his bike in Townley Rd.on his return from Brighton.  He looked well.

18 August 1903: Hired bike, learnt to ride and rode to Brixton with George.  Got wet.

22 August 1903:  From 6-30 to 8-15 George and I hired bikes from Reids.  All went well till we got to the Village, when I had a bad puncture.  Had a racing machine then, but I wasn’t very comfortable on it, however considering all things, we did very well.

29 August 1903: Went down to Reid’s re bikes.  Met George and  Reid in Cherry Tree [an East Dulwich pub] .  We arranged about our bikes for to-morrow, and wheeled them home by 10.30 p.m.

“Cyclists Rest”, a tea-shop and guest house for cyclists, in Capel, Surrey, run by my maternal great-great grandmother Esther Lidbetter c. 1900. Such establishments have always been part of the essential support network for enthusiastic cyclists!

30 August 1903: 1^st Ride.  George, Norman and I up at 5 a.m. Fine morning.  Breakfast.  We left home 5-50. on bikes.  Norman came as far as Half Moon [a pub in Herne Hill].  Through Brixton, Streatham, Croydon, Purley, Coulsdon, Merstham, Redhill to Reigate; 21 miles by 8-45.  Breakfast at Alexandra Tea Rooms at Redhill, rest and a smoke. Took matters very easily coming back and arrived at Reids at 1-50.  I had 2 light falls.  Roads in fine condition. (44 miles covered)

6 September 1903: 2^nd Ride. Rose at 5.  Left on our bikes 6 a.m. (George and I). Up Dog Kennel Hill. Through London to Highgate, Barnet,  Potters Bar, Hatfield, Welwyn (rain, put up ½ hour)  Codicote, Hitchin.  Arrived at [Purwell] Mill 12.10 oc.  Saw Mr and Mrs. Flitton [the miller and his wife Jenny, a cousin of Charlie's mother] and Jack Hall.  Had a good dinner, rest and a smoke.  Left there 3 o.c.  Tea at Barnet 5 o.c. Highgate 7.30.  Cherry Tree 10-5 o. c.  Home, supper etc. Very tired.  88 miles. Weather very fine as were the roads.

20 September 1903: Up at 5-45. Fine.  George and I started on our bikes at 6-30 for Horley.  Reached there 9-30.  Breakfast at Tea House, Charlwood and back to dinner at 1 o. c. Left Horley at 2-40.  Home to tea at 5-30.  Rest etc. Bike back to Reid.”

So far, so good .  In fact the distances covered in a day’s ride in 1903 are pretty impressive, bearing in mind that the bike would only have had a single gear, and that many of the roads used would not have been smoothly surfaced.  No doubt encouraged by his prowess, in early 1904 Charlie decided to invest in a second-hand bike of his own. One of his former school-friends, from his days at Emanuel School, Wandsworth, Tancred Macleod, had one to sell and was prepared to phase the payments. Charlie’s account from his 1904 diary continues:

The development of mass-produced affordable bicycles

“31 January 1904: Long talk with Sissy and Tancred [Macleod].  Bought his machine for £1.

12 February 1904: Paid Mac[Tancred Macleod]  8/-[shillings] off bike.

16 March 1904: Norman home with my bike from Macleods at 10-50.  All in good order, I think.

4 April 1904: Stroll on the [Peckham] Rye, and a little spin on my bike, went well.

12 April 1904: George and I examined my bike, hurt my tongue.

18 April 1904:  Macleod called at 3 o.c.  Paid him 2/-; 3/- left.

23 April 1904: Wrote Sis Macleod, sent 3/- to Tancred, bike now
paid for.

24 April 1904: Cleaned my bike etc.   Norman and I had a ride to the HM [Half Moon] and back by 10 o.c.

26 April 1904: Again tried my bike, position must be altered.

14 May 1904: Fish etc. for dinner.  Afterwards oiled my bike and  thoroughly cleaned it”

By now, Charlie’s new bike should have been immaculately prepared for the next day’s ride into Kent, which he had planned with his brother George. Events, however, were to intervene.

Charlie’s diary for the week beginning 15 May 1904; the week when his enthusiasm for cycling disappeared

“15 May 1904: George couldn’t start on account of puncture.  I went for a ride Village, Park etc.  Martin arrived  9-30. We all three started about 10 o.c. George punctured on Bromley Hill. Down [village in the North Downs near the former home of Charles Darwin] 2 o.c.  I had a nasty spill in Cudham Lane about 3-30. Arms etc. scratched and bruised and bike badly  strained (thankful it wasn’t worse).  Tea at Lewis’.  Walked to Bromley.  8-30 train. Home 10 o.c.

16 May 1904: Indoors all day. Felt a bit shaken.  Wired Mr. D. [Drysdale; Charlie's boss].  Ma out all day.  Aunt Loo came in the evening.  Flo dressed my arms etc.  Very good of her.

17 May 1904: Fetched bike home 4d [4 pennies] .”

Enthusiasm for cycling was not restricted to adults. My maternal Grandmother (with bike), at Capel, Surrey c. 1905

This was the last time that Charlie was to mention bikes in his surviving diaries and letters.  It seems that a nasty case of damaged bike and Edwardian ‘gravel rash’ had seriously  limited his enthusiasm for cycling.  Although his brother George continued to be a cyclist throughout his life, Charlie returned to walking long distances as his principal form of exercise, something that was to stand him in good stead when he found himself conscripted into the British infantry 12 years later. However, as a non-cyclist, when it came to finding a wife, his geographic range was limited by where his feet could take him, or where his purse could afford!  He married his second-cousin and reaped the genetic consequences. But that is another story for another day!

The winter of 1916/1917 was , in its time, one of the coldest on record. While those soldiers already on the Western Front in France and Belgium, faced the worst conditions, life was not that easy for the recently-conscripted men, who were progressing with their training in England  (including my 33-year old grandfather, Charlie Payne).  Charlie’s 28th January letter home to his wife, Ida, paints a  picture of the challenge that such men were facing to adapt to their new military environment; missing their families and ‘normality’, struggling to understand the ways of the army (particularly the pay structure), facing shortages of food (which at this stage of the war were beginning to bite) and yet somehow coping.

“Pte C. F. Payne 21179, D Company 18^th Btn, Yorkshire Regiment, Clacton-on Sea

Sunday 28/1/1917

My dear Wife, Many thanks for your parcel and all the contents were fine.  The cocoa and sugar is a good idea and I have a cup before turning in o’nights, and the apples were A1 – the first I have had since leaving home.  Thank Mrs Brown for the fish paste and I hope she is well, also Mr Brown.

Charlie’s wife, Ida with their four sons (from the left) John, Rupert, Dick (‘Bighead’) and Ted

I trust your next letter will tell me that the Parish’s food [charitable donation] has done my dear old Bighead a lot of good and that he is now quite better. This bitter weather wants a lot of guarding against, and I do hope all the little ones and your dear self get through it without any sickness.  I know it is cold in London by the papers, and it is quite arctic here.  Friday there was a gale, a heavy sea and a shipwreck.  The Clacton lifeboat went out and the crew were saved.  We generally have a fire going now in our room from 4 p.m. till midnight, so are pretty comfortable, but even then the water freezes in the fire bucket and I have to wear my “nightcap” as I lie just underneath a somewhat drafty window. It is now fine and bright but am spending the afternoon indoors to write to you and I expect you are all in the  parlour with a nice fire and I only wish I was there dozing with little Rupert in my arms and John telling a tale about a bear having his tea on the pavement and Ted and Bighead laughing.

Ida’s two younger brothers, Bill (left; 13th Btn. East Surrey Regt) and Mike (seated; Machine Gun Corps)

Dinner today consisted of tough roast beef, two small potatoes, a few peas, a bit of bread and a mixture called boiled rice, with some paraffin added.  We get it every Sunday.  It is called rice pudding.  Oh for a good dinner at home, and a cup of tea or coffee afterwards.  Hope all are well at 28 [Coverton Road, Tooting]. Any further news of Mike and Bill [two of Ida's brothers, both in the Army] I shall be pleased to hear.  I wrote some weeks ago to Norman [Charlie's younger brother] at Harwich, but have had no reply – Do you know if he is still there?

Charlie’s younger brother, Norman (1/4th Essex Regiment)

Pleased to say I have got rid of the rheumatics and the weather being so cold we have escaped a good many parades and been taken for route marches instead and the country round here is rather pretty and we can smoke pipes and talk.  Friday I came into a fortune being paid the large sum of 5/6 [five shillings and sixpence, or 27.5 pence in today's currency], but against that I have had a pair of army socks stolen from under my blankets (unfortunately several of our chaps have lately missed things) so I suppose shall have to buy a new pair when I want them. Have to report that I have now passed through the miniature range firing tests, so expect soon to go up to the long ranges.

Ida’s father, George Payne, outside his shop in Tooting (c. 1900)

How does your Dad get on with his games of crib these days? Just now 2 of my pals are engaged in a game.  We also have draughts and dominoes which somebody or other kindly provided, – the results of the “comforts” entertainment, of which I sent you a programme, I expect. Well, my darling, I think this is all I can say this time, and I must post this letter before 4 oclock to reach you first post in the morning. I do hope I shall soon be up on a few days’ leave as I think we deserve it – don’t you? But they are very niggardly with it these days. With heaps of love and kisses to you and the dear boys. Ever your loving husband, Charlie.”

If you are interested in finding out more about Charlie Payne’s military service in the Great War, you will find other relevant  posts by checking out the archived blogpages that can be accessed directly from my Blog. Please also check out my website and the details of my recent book ‘The Chieftain‘

Almost as soon as the First World War Armistice of 11th November 1918, had been resolved, one of its main elements had to be implemented: the occupation of the German Rhineland by the Allied forces.  Amongst those who started the long march from France to Germany, on 18th November 1918, was my grandfather, Private Charlie Payne, 5th Battalion, Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding) Regiment, part of the 62nd (West Riding) Division, and the only Territorial Division to be included in the Army of Occupation.(Some of my earlier blog posts have covered Charlie’s reactions to the Armistice and to his arrival in Germany.)

The route taken by Charlie Payne’s battalion when marching to the German Rhineland. Nov-Dec 1919 (Click on map to enlarge)

Compared with the huge volume of  literature on the hostilities during the First World War, the Allied Occupation of the Rhineland, and the preparation of the troops for their impending return to civilian life has received only limited coverage.  My blog today adds a personal touch to that period when the civilian skills of some men who had been conscripted into the forces started to become more important than their abilities as fighting troops.  On 11th January 1919, Charlie wrote home to his wife Ida, to give her some good news; he had been promoted and his pay would be increased.

Private Charles Frederick Payne, 1918

“Mechernich, Germany, Saturday 11/1/1919

My darling, Up till now I have no further letters from you to answer, but perhaps I shall get one in the morning. You will be pleased to hear I am now a Sergeant, having been promoted to that rank as teacher of Shorthand at the Brigade School in Mechernich. In due time I shall receive the full pay of Sergt. and I think 1/- per day over and above, but will let you know as soon as I draw my new pay.  Not so bad for a “duffer” eh, dear?

Charlie Payne’s shorthand credentials (Click on picture to enlarge)

I am in a very comfortable billet and share a bedroom (with a champion bed in it) with another Sergt.  We have a mess of our own, for which we pay a few marks extra per week.  I have plenty of teaching to do – from 8.30 a.m. to 12.30.  Then, of course, I have papers to check and prepare next day’s work.  I am billeted in a hotel and the Germans treat us well – they seem anxious to wash out if possible (?) their past misdeeds – we have free use of a billiard table and often the family ask us to join them at supper. I am getting on well with the “lingo” and I hope it will help me when I get back to dear old England – which I trust will be soon now.  As you know, dear, Germany is now more or less in a state of revolution and there are terrible riots in Berlin etc.  Heaven grant the British will not be dragged into her domestic troubles.  We are all anxious to clear out of it.

Well, little woman, how are you?  I am anxiously looking forward to your next letter – I do hope you are feeling better.  The weather here is very bright and cold today.  What’s it like in London.  I fancy you are having snow. I think, dear, if you address all future letters as follows I shall get them quicker –Sgt. C. F Payne 235435, B Company, 5^th West Riding Regt.,186^th Infantry Brigade School, B.E.F. Germany.

Mechernich c. 1919; the Post Office (Click on picture to enlarge)

I think I must try and get a photo taken of my 3 stripes as a souvenir. [Sadly, no such photo has been found] I was made Corporal on Tuesday last and Sergt. on Wednesday.  Quick promotion.  I think the pay out here is 3/6 per day and with the 1/- per day extra = 31/6 per week, but I expect it will take a little time to come through.  I will let you know, dear.

Charlie’s wife Ida, with ‘the four little rebels’, 1918 (Click on picture to enlarge)

Well, little woman, how are our 4 little rebels – I trust all well.  I have not yet had time to send them any more cards but tell them “old Dad” has not forgotten.  What a difference in 12 months, darling.  This time last year I was in the most awful of trenches [in the Gavrelle-Oppy sector of the Western Front]– up to our waists in slush, with the Huns only 100 yards away – now billeted in a German hotel about 30 miles south-west of Cologne on the Rhine.  I often dream of the trenches and so do all of us who have been in them….”[the surviving letter ends at this point]

Charlie’s promotion, as a teacher at the newly-established Brigade School, is an interesting reminder that the British Army was already trying to help their men to obtain new skills that could assist them in their impending return to civvy-street. Scrutiny of the Divisional War Diary reveals that a range of such educational courses were established at Mechernich during January 1919.  The mention in Charlie’s letter of “riots in Berlin” almost certainly refer to the Spartacist Uprising that occurred between January 4th and 15th, 1919.

Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, the subject of my 2011 book ‘The Chieftain‘

A very happy New Year to the readers of this blog.

Some of my earlier blog posts have highlighted aspects of the career of Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke who, between 1862 and 1878, served in the small team of London Metropolitan Police detectives based at Scotland Yard. By 1869, Clarke had become second-in-command of the detective branch, and was one of the best-known and trusted detectives in the force. His career is described in my recent biography ‘The Chieftain‘.

However, 1877 was a particularly challenging year for Clarke, following his arrest in September on a charge of corruption which resulted in his trial at the Old Bailey, together with three of his police colleagues. The events became known as ‘The Trial of the Detectives’.   Unlike his colleagues, Clarke was acquitted on 20 November 1877, and reinstated in his post by Metropolitan Police Commissioner Edmund Henderson.

Vanity Fair Caricature of Commissioner Edmund Henderson

But within days, Clarke retired and left the force, on 4th January 1878. By that stage he was 59 years old. Having served in the Metropolitan Police for 37 years, he was probably not too sorry to leave.  Despite his acquittal, his departure from Scotland Yard was driven through by the Home Secretary of that period, Sir Richard Assheton Cross, who appears from the documented archives to have deemed that the political embarrassment of the Trial of the Detectives was so great that Clarke had to be sacrificed, innocent or guilty. Like the Trial of the Detectives itself, Clarke’s retirement became one of the main news items of the day.

Richard Assheton Cross; Home Secretary 1877 (Wikipedia)

The digitised newspaper resources available today (e.g. at the British Newspaper Archive) make it clear that virtually every newspaper in the land covered, in great detail, the Trial and its subsequent political fallout, including Clarke’s retirement. So for those members of the population who could afford newspapers, could read, or  listened to others talking about the case in the pubs and music halls, it was a major topic of conversation in polite (and impolite) society!

According to Haia Shpayer-Makov, in her recent book “The Ascent of the Detective”(p.237) there was a boost in fictional detective writing in Britain from 1878 onwards.  It seems to me that this is unlikely to have been a coincidence.  Could it be  that the corruption exposed in the Scotland Yard Detective force during 1877 meant that readers (and writers) needed to console themselves with fictional detectives now that their faith in the ‘real’ article had been sullied?  If so, what detective models did these writers (including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle who produced his first Sherlock Holmes story in  1887) use to  flesh-out their police characters (such as the fictional Inspector Lestrade)?  I’ll have to do some more reading, to see if I can detect any of the attributes of Chief Inspector George Clarke in their creations!

It is my good fortune to have some documented records for several of my ancestors which have provided me with information about their Christmas-time experiences.  Amongst two of the more interesting accounts are those of my great-great-grandfather George Clarke in 1864 (then a Detective-Sergeant at Scotland Yard) and his grandson, Charlie Payne, in 1918 a Private in the 5th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding) Regiment.  By coincidence, in  those two years both men spent their Christmas, away from their families, in Germany.  I have already briefly described George Clarke’s 1864 Christmas in an earlier Blog Post (see ‘Christmas past’).  Today’s Post provides a fuller account of Clarke’s 1864 expedition to Germany, and goes on to describe Charlie Payne’s 1918 experiences at Christmas in post-Armistice Germany.  I would also like to take this opportunity to convey seasonal greetings to all readers of this blog, amd my best wishes for 2013.

Detective-Sergeant George Clarke, Christmas 1864

Detective Chief Inspector George Clarke, the subject of my 2011 book ‘The Chieftain’

George Clarke had spent much of November 1864 investigating the murder of Theodor Fuhrhop, a recent German immigrant, whose decapitated body had been found on the Plaistow Marshes, London. The prime suspect, another German,  Ferdinand Kohl,  had been quickly arrested but the case against him needed to be strengthened by confirmation that some clothes and other items that Kohl had pawned had originally belonged to the murder victim.  As Fuhrhop had arrived in Britain only a few weeks before his murder, the people best able to provide confirmation or otherwise  of this were his family back in Germany.  Clarke picks up the story….:

“I beg to report in reference the murder of Theodor Christian Fuhrhop at Plaistow, K Division…… that after receiving instructions from Mr Greenwood, Solicitor to the Treasury, I left London on the 21^st ultimo [December] for Hamburg taking with me the whole of the property belonging to the murdered man, and which was in possession of Police. I arrived at Hamburg on the 23^rd and delivered the letter of introduction to Mr. Ward, Her Majesty’s Consul in that town, who granted me every assistance.  I shewed [sic] the property to the family of the deceased and it was all identified by Carl Henry Theodor Fuhrhop, the youngest brother, who I brought with me to London.  On the 25^th I left Hamburg for Splietau in Hanover, accompanied by an interpreter for the purpose of ascertaining the antecedents of the prisoner “Köhl” which I found to be generally bad. He enlisted in the Kings Regiment of Hussars in 1860 for ten years but after serving 2½ years he was convicted and sentenced to three months in a Military Prison for stealing from his comrades, and was then dismissed the service. In the early part of 1864 he was charged with stealing a quantity of harness at Ledorf near Splietau, but he then absconded to avoid punishment and came to England.  I returned to Hamburg on the 27^th and after making every possible enquiry I left for London where I arrived on the 31^st.  I have since furnished Mr Hodgson of the Treasury with all the information I had obtained and that gentleman has also taken a verbal statement from Carl Henry T. Fuhrhop.  Mr Hodgson expressed himself pleased with the result of my enquiries”. [Crown Copyright extract from National Archives file TNA/PRO MEPO 3/77].

These days, a journey of that nature might be straightforward.  In the middle of winter in 1864 it was undoubtedly less so….and somewhat lacking in Christmas cheer! However, Clarke’s trip to Germany proved worthwhile. The information that he gained then, and during his earlier investigations in London, was central to the case against Kohl who was convicted for the murder of Fuhrhop and sentenced to death, a sentence that was carried out in public on 26 January 1865 outside Springfield Prison, Chelmsford.  For further information about Clarke’s investigation, see pages 51-65 of ‘The Chieftain‘.

Private Charles Frederick Payne, Christmas 1918

Private Charles Frederick Payne, 1918

On 25 December 1918, 44 days after the 11 November Armistice when hostilities in the Great War had ceased, Charlie Payne and his battalion  arrived at their final destination near Mechernich, Germany, after a protracted march across Belgium as part of the British Army of Occupation of the Rhineland.   In his letter of 28th December to his wife Ida ,  he describes  the highlights of his Christmas, including his first bath in  6 weeks, and playing cards with the erstwhile enemy:

Charlie’s wife Ida, with their four sons (from left) John, Rupert, Dick and Ted, 1918

“Hőstel, near Mechernich, Germany, 28/12/18

My dear Wife, I duly received yours of the 15^th enclosing letters and cards from all the boys for which thank them.  The parcel also reached me in perfect order and the contents were greatly appreciated, more particularly as we were in a nice comfortable billet at a village called Amel.  Since then we have been on the march, but spent a fairly decent Xmas Day and Boxing Day at Mechernich. Yesterday we moved to Hőstel and are billeted in a cottage.  There is plenty of snow about and the weather is very bitter.  I do hope it is not so severe in London.  On the whole the Germans have received us very well and their houses are neat and clean after the French and Belgian ones.  Like us they are heartily glad the War is over and do not seem to grieve much for the loss of their Kaiser.  I spent Xmas Day in converse with a Prussian Guard, his wife and 7 children; played cards with them.  Who would have thought this possible a few months ago.  The youngsters had plenty of toys etc. for Xmas and a big Xmas tree; as you know Germans like us keep Xmas in fine style.  I was sorry to leave Mechernich.  I had a bed to sleep in with nice clean sheets and you may guess I did sleep.  No doubt what brought Germany to her knees was “shortage of food”.  They are very hard up for it.  Their bread is awful.  We had nothing special Xmas Day, but perhaps we should have a good spread later on when we get settled.

The 1918 Christmas Card of the 5th Battalion, Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding) Regiment, sent by Charlie Payne to his wife, Ida

I am looking forward to getting your next letter telling me how you all spent Xmas.  I hope after your longer hours and work you may get a good rest.  The conversation between Dick and John I can picture and I should have loved to have heard them.  I note all your other news, dear.  I must tell you I had a nice card from Mrs Palmer also a letter.  I expect Jack was home for Xmas [Jack and Alice Palmer were Charlie's brother and sister-in-law].  What did you think of our regimental Card – I think it good.  Please take care of it as a souvenir. Give my love to all upstairs and I trust they are all quite well.  Gert [Charlie's younger sister] sent me 50 cigs. and some chocolate and please thank Dolce [Ida's younger sister] very much for the ‘bacca’ – “Bondman” – I was well away.

Charlie’s favourite tobacco

Pleased to say I am quite well except for “chats” [body lice].  For some reason or other we have not had a change of underclothes since about Nov. 15^th and only one bath (yesterday).  I have “dumped” several articles of clothing but do not quite like parting with my shirt this weather.  Tell Ted and John [Charlie's two eldest sons] I shall be answering their nice letters shortly and when I can buy some picture cards I’ll send them some which I know they will keep until I come home.

Will you please get me 2 “German Self-Taught by the Natural Method” (Thimm’s System) Revised by W.E. Eber M.A. Second Edition published by E. Marlborough & Co. 51, Old Bailey, E.C. Price 1/9 each paper cover. I am learning a little of the German language as it is rotten sitting here like a dummy.  I want one for myself and one for a pal.  If, however, they are out of print, try and get me some other German book.  I am sorry to trouble you, dear.  Perhaps it would be as well to register them.  Did you get the 20 Francs I sent before Xmas – I hope so? With heaps of love and kisses to you and the boys. Ever yours, Charlie.”

Charlie’s aspirations to learn German quickly paid off. Within the next two weeks he had  become the interpreter to B Company, bartering effectively with the local German population to help purchase the necessities of life, including the food required for a belated Christmas dinner for the men of his battalion. In fact he ended up having two Christmas dinners as the Officers invited him to join them after he had managed to acquire sufficient chickens for their own meal!  (These and many other aspects of Charlie’s life with the Duke of Wellington’s Regiment will be described in my next book ‘Charlie’s War’).