What Is Unusual About The Boer War Memorial In Hull?

It may be a statue we’ve all seen hundreds of times but have you ever really looked at it, asks our conflict monument correspondent Angus Young.

The sculpture of two soldiers from the Boer War has stood in Paragon Square in Hull since 1904. Evocative images of the unveiling ceremony featured on contemporary postcards show a large crowd gathered in the square for the event with dozens of men also watching the proceedings while standing on the exposed gable end of an overlooking semi-demolished building. Funded by public subscription, the memorial was made by the Leeds Marble Works and commemorates the Hull men who died during the South African conflict.

However, it is by no means a traditional war memorial.

For a start, the white sandstone figures of the two soldiers hardly reflect the ultimate victory achieved by the British against the Boer republics between 1899 and 1902. One appears to stand guard over a struggling, perhaps wounded or dying colleague and is depicted as grimly holding onto his rifle rather than aiming it at the enemy. His fallen comrade, who has lost his helmet and is wearing a bandage around his head, has dropped his weapon altogether.

Until then, war memorials in Britain had typically celebrated victory by featuring triumphant kings or military leaders and were often placed inside religious buildings. However, in a break from this tradition, large memorials commissioned immediately after the Boer War not only appeared in public places but also featured soldiers from the lower ranks for the first time. The Hull pair certainly fall into this category.

A close inspection of the metal plaques attached to the large rough-hewn stone which acts as a base for the sculpture provides another unusual departure from previous memorials. As you might expect, the names of 57 men from Hull who died during what was known as the Second Boer War are recorded, identified by their surname, rank and regiment. However, the names are divided into three sections with separate headings for each one – Killed in Action, Died of Wounds and Died of Disease, etc. Shockingly to modern eyes, the names of those who died from disease spill over from one plaque and entirely fill another. Altogether, 45 of the 57 men commemorated died from disease. The biggest killer during the war was typhoid.

Megan Howarth researched changing public opinion during the Boer War and how it was reflected in subsequent memorials as part of her History degree at the University of Hull. She says: “The memorial in Hull is particularly interesting because it showed the causes of death for the soldiers it was commemorating. The most significant cause of death was disease and the failure to prepare for the medical consequences of a war in a climate like that of South Africa.”

Megan believes the memorial’s focus on camaraderie might have been intentional as part of a deliberate attempt by the authorities to divert public attention away from the embarrassing defeats suffered by the British during the early stages of the conflict. It also helped promote a feeling of pride in the national effort that had gone into the war, underlined by the fact that large numbers of men who fought were not professional soldiers and many were not suitably trained.

“This served the purpose of uniting the country after the war because, although the causes of war and the methods of war were strongly contested, the number of volunteers was perceived to be something to be proud of. It is also particularly significant because it was one of the first wars in which there was a large anti-war movement in Britain.”

Angus Young

Who Was Hull’s First Popular Historian?

Hull Tour Guide Paul Schofield may rule the roost these days but, as our ancient archivist correspondent Angus Young reports, he certainly wasn’t the first.

When it comes to local history, tour guide and Curiosity contributor Paul Schofield certainly knows his stuff. Paul and his famous hat entertain thousands of visitors to Hull and Beverley every year with entertaining stories on his renowned walking tours.

But who was the first populiser of local history in this neck of the woods?

That accolade probably goes to William Andrews who was born in Kirby Moorhouse in Nottinghamshire in 1848 and came to live and work in Hull in 1872. In 1878 he became the editor of Hull Miscellany, a weekly literary journal. A year later he was one of the founders of the Hull Literary Society and acted as its secretary for a decade until becoming its president.

A man of words, Andrews established the Hull Press in 1890. From its offices in Dock Street, the company published and printed a large number of books, many of them written by Andrews himself. He wrote on a huge variety of historical subjects, drawing inspiration from his own personal collection of rare books, local guides, documents and ephemera.

In particular, he specialised in researching and preserving some of the stranger elements of British cultural heritage such as regional folklore, fairy tales, old religious customs and the staging of so-called ‘frost fairs’ on frozen rivers. In his book ‘Old-time Punishments’ he examines the use of ducking stools, pillories and whipping posts in the Middle Ages while in ‘The History of Dunmow Flitch’ he recounts his own experience of presiding over an ancient event held every four years in Essex in which couples are required to prove to a jury they are happily married with the winners being presented with a side of bacon.

Andrews wrote in a scholarly yet accessible style and readers lapped up his re-telling of forgotten stories and quirks from the past. If he was around today, he’d probably give TV historian Lucy Worsley a run for her money.

Typical of his narrative skills can be found in an eye-catching chapter called  ‘A Fight Between the Lord Mayor of Hull and the Archbishop of York’ from his 1891 book Old Church Lore. In it, he takes the reader back to 1378 and a skirmish between the two men and their aides  over who was entitled to receive duty on casks of wine being unloaded from ships on the River Hull in which “blood freely flowed” and the Archbishop’s ceremonial staff was broken into several pieces. “The place where the fight occurred was regarded by the superstitious as sacred, crowds of fanatics repairing to it to shed tears,” he wrote. “Not a little inconvenience was caused by their conduct, and their proceedings were stopped  by a permanent guard being appointed to keep folk away from the place. After the death of the Archbishop, it was believed for many years that his spirit haunted the spot where the battle took place.”

A Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, Andrews was also a founder of the East Riding Antiquarian Society. In 1900, after retiring from the Hull Press, he became chief librarian at the Hull Subscription Library based in the Royal Institution in Albion Street. Founded in 1775, it eventually held a stock of some 80,000 books, including foreign and standard works together with serials, fiction and non-fiction.

He worked there until his death in 1908.

Angus Young

Why Was A Wooden Gun Installed On The Roof Of A Hull Factory?

A tale of lies, damn lies and dummy artillery is reported by our public deception correspondent Angus Young.

On 25 January 1915 a notice appeared in Hull newspapers under the heading: “Arousing the Public”. It read: “In the event of certain happenings, for which the Germans will be responsible, the public at Hull are to be warned by the shrill blasts of steam whistles, The steam organ valve whistles are being supplied by Messrs. George Clark and Sons, Waterhouse Lane. The type to be used in Hull are 6in diameter.”

It was the first public warning of the prospect of aerial warfare arriving in the city for the first time.

Just over four months later on the evening of 6 June the whistles were sounded. Previous alarms had amounted to nothing but this time they were followed by the sound of a Zeppelin’s engines and a series of large explosions. Between 20 and 30 bombs were dropped by the enemy airship that night. Nineteen people died directly in the blasts, five more from shock and a further 40 were injured. The Zeppelin had flown over Hull without much resistance. The only return fire came from some Royal Navy ships berthed in the docks. Despite the threat of air raids, no specific military preparation had been put in place to defend the city from attack.

Public fury over the raid spilled over into violence and several shops owned by German families were targeted. In a hasty attempt to restore calm and boost morale, the Army came up with a cunning plan worthy of Baldrick in Blackadder. With few anti-aircraft guns available, an idea  was hatched to install a dummy gun on a tall building. It would not only trick the Germans and persuade them to steer clear but also fool the people of Hull into thinking they were now much safer from attack than before.

The Rosedown building today.

A request was submitted to Charles Downs, managing director of engineering firm Rose, Downs and Thompson, to place a gun on the reinforced concrete roof of his company’s foundry in Caroline Street. Downs agreed but wasn’t told it was to be made of wood. To maintain the deception, the Army took full control of access to the roof with soldiers posted on duty there every night between 8pm and 5am. People who could see them from nearby houses below didn’t realise the only real firepower  at their disposal were naval-style flare rockets. If a Zeppelin was spotted, their secret orders were to discharge three rounds of rockets to make it look like the gun had actually been fired. During the day, soldiers would pretend to clean the weapon before re-covering it with a sheet.

This illusion was maintained for just over six months until Downs discovered the gun was actually a fake. Fearing a public backlash if the deception became more generally known in the event of another raid, he asked the Army to remove it. Grudgingly, his request was agreed to. Once again, Hull was left without any anti-aircraft cover.

Just over a month later the city experienced its second Zeppelin raid of the war during a snowstorm. This time 16 people were killed. Two more raids followed in April and August, killing nine and injuring another 20. An anti-aircraft gun used during the April raid succeeded in bringing the Zeppelin down but in August there was no gunfire at all because it had been relocated elsewhere. A contemporary newspaper report stated: “Eager eyes waited to see the searchlights; eager ears awaited to hear the guns. The Zepp could plainly be seen, but no guns, only bombs. There was one searchlight and what was described as a ‘pop gun’.”

This time anger at Hull being left defenceless once again boiled over with local MPs Thomas Ferens and Sir Alfred Gelder raising the issue in Parliament. Both claimed only one faulty searchlight had been operational alongside a small ineffective gun. Observing wartime censorship rules, Ferens referred to Hull as an “important city on the East Coast” in his question to Major John Baird, parliamentary secretary to the Air Board. “Considering what a well-known mark this place is, was one gun sufficient?” he asked.

Major Baird batted off the question politely. “I hope my Honourable Friend will not think me discourteous, but it is most undesirable to discuss it now.” Later questions would provide the real answer. Demand by the Army for weapons and munitions for use in the battlefields of France meant providing adequate hardware to defend cities like Hull from air raids was not a priority.

Eventually, two large anti-aircraft guns were sent to Hull, being exhibited in Paragon Square before being deployed. They saw action in four further Zeppelin raids 

The MPs’ intervention was commended by one correspondent who revived the story of the dummy gun by saying he had submitted a mock tender for guns “to conform to the requirements of the new Wooden Gun Department at the War Office”. The tender offered to supply one gun made of “best deal (softwood) painted two coats at 7s 6d per running foot” and another “tin-plated if required, priced at 25 shillings “inclusive of a good hand barrow for touring gun posts.” Both would be guaranteed “take in the public all the time.”

Angus Young