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 Frances Brough sketched by Judith James 2020, based upon photo of oil/tempera portrait in family possession, reproduced in Jean Webster-Brough, Prompt Copy: The Brough Story.1952, opp. p63.

 

How we see ourselves is in part determined by how or what we see as our past. In this time of crisis and reassessment, I want to share the contribution which a long-forgotten novel of the 1860s can make to our understanding of a key moment of working class history - the Chartist movement - and in particular the events of 1839 in Newport.

When starting my research into the republican ideas of Robert Barnabas Brough (1828-1860), I had no idea that he was connected with south Wales. However, to broaden my understanding of his works, I began tracing the careers of his brothers and children and came across novels written by his mother, Frances Brough, who published under her maiden name of Whiteside. She was the author of Hidden Fire (1867), set in south Wales in the 1830s, with its final dramatic scenes taking place in Newport at the time of the rebellion in 1839.

 

These events must have been etched in Frances’ memory. They certainly had a dramatic impact on the lives of her family, as witnessed in their writings, which provided material for the writing of her own novel, Hidden Fire. Although fiction, her story provides a rare insight into the nature of political debate among people from a range of backgrounds, providing a perspective distinctly different from that usually drawn by political historians, whose narratives focus upon the well trodden sources of Hansard, memoirs of the rich and powerful and the limited published material of radical newspapers.

 

Frances Cargill Whiteside was born in London in 1803. Her family appears to have come from the north east of England, although I have been able to discover little more than dates of births and deaths. In 1825 she married Barnabas Brough in London. Her first two children were born in London: William in 1826 and Robert Barnabas in 1828. Jean Webster Brough suggests that the family then moved to Liverpool briefly. But by 1834 they were living in Pontypool where Barnabas ran a successful brewery, and where her other children were born. By 1841 the Brough family had moved to Manchester, and from there in 1845 they had moved back to London where Barnabas took a post as accountant at the Illustrated London News.

 

The move away from Pontypool where they seem to have been happily settled was triggered by an incident that took place on the night of the 3rd/4th November during the Newport rising in 1839. Barnabas Brough wrote his own account of how he came to be involved on that night by way of explanation of what had been a very difficult situation for him. It seems that while living in Pontypool he had been on good terms with at least one of the Chartist leaders, though not exactly involved in the Chartist movement. He commented: ‘Mr John Frost was well known to, and much respected by me,’ though he modified this slightly to say that they were not on ‘friendly terms’ and while he was in agreement with him in political terms, ‘both inclining to the Radical side of Whiggism,’ this ended when Frost joined the Chartist Convention. He saw his friend as misguided in taking this step.

 

Barnabas gave details of what happened to him on the evening when the Newport rebellion took place. That night he was returning late from a business trip and happened to meet with a group of Chartists marching towards Newport. He details how he was ‘arrested’ by them and marched to Newport; how he tried to escape and narrowly escaped being shot; how they met up with another party of Chartists and all marched on to meet up with Frost at Cefn. Barnabas was held prisoner for a time at the Welsh Oak Inn.

 

Then along with other prisoners he was released. When finally reaching home he immediately wrote a report to Capel Hanbury Leigh of Pontypool, Lord Lieutenant of the County, giving evidence of what he had seen. But in writing about the incident he praised Mr Frost’s ‘kindly feelings and humanity’ in freeing him and saving his life, knowing full well that the activities he was involved with would be seen as treason and that in liberating him he gave others evidence of it. Barnabas notes that while he was escaping home, members of the Chartist cause were dying in the street, a statement which hints at the deep pain this had caused him. He ends with expressions of gratitude to the man who saved him.

 

When the Chartists involved in the rebellion were put on trial, the local leading figures - Frost, Williams and Jones - were condemned to death, but finally reprieved and transported to Van Diemens Land (later known as Tasmania).

 

Barnabas’ life as a business man, as well as the day-to-day lives of the rest of the family in that staunchly Chartist area, must have been dramatically changed by all of this. Barnabas appears to have thrived in London in his post as accountant at the Illustrated London News. But the views of his children certainly reflect a conviction of the need for political change and an espousal of republican views. In Robert Brough’s case this influenced his career in writing.

 

Barnabas had written the story of 1839 almost as an apology for his own actions, and possibly a cathartic exercise. He died on 30th October 1854, just three months after the birth of his first grandson, Robert’s first child.

 

Thirteen years later Frances writes about these same events from her own distinctly different point of view. For most of the three volumes her plot is concerned to present the tapestry of life in the Pontypool area in the 1830s. Her characters range in social class from a local Lord to a mine owner, with miners and servants and their families, all creating a strong sense of community. It is impossible to determine how she had responded to the crisis that hit her husband and the whole family. For whereas Barnabas had written about that time almost to make amends and out of deep regret for the fate that had befallen his friend Frost, Frances does not put on display any preconceptions about her characters and their political views.

 

Rather she succeeds in developing close and sympathetic objectivity, avoiding perjorative observation of their family lives. Where the narrator does comment, she shows compassion and tolerance and this tone colours the many scenes in which she depicts Chartist meetings and ideas. The strength of this novel lies in that Frances is a woman witness, expressing her truth to that experience.

 

There is an authenticity about the novel created largely by the sympathetic tone of her narrative and the interest she clearly had in the lives of the families in that locality. She must have been comfortable in the company of the local Lord as well as of her household servants and the miners and able to empathise with all. If her husband’s ‘adventure’ had dramatically changed their lives and perhaps his outlook, there is no evidence that her account is written with any sense of bitterness or criticism.

 

The following details from her novel will focus on episodes where Chartism is central, and offer evidence of the courage and commitment of the working miners to the cause, as well as of the republican sentiments that were fundamental to that cause.

 

In volume one, Frances sets the scene for a gathering of the working men (v. 1; p.129) as they meet outside the town ‘with clouds of smoke rolling in among them’ from the coke heaps. One of the leading figures from among the Chartists in her narrative is Mr Ford and he is described as ‘too sincere in the cause himself to deceive others’. The narrator expresses ‘wonder’ at how the crowd ‘very silently… waited for the close of each sentence; but when there was a pause in the address, someone had always a remark to make on the last words that had been uttered… These were the only interruptions to the speaker.’ Mr Ford continued to explain the Chartist cause:

 

p.130 ‘Well, then, we intend to get a new government. We must govern ourselves as they do in America - a democracy governed by the people - the working people, you know - them as earns the money; no one to be higher than another! Without a leader be chosen by the people, everyone is to be fair partner like. We will have no Queen.’

 

At this, there were some dissenting voices in the crowd, but the speaker resumed:

 

‘I mean no Queen to bind us down to hard laws. In course I don’t mean no harm to Queen Victoria. But I say there shall be no peers, no deputies, no lords, no ladies, nor gentlemen; for them as has got money must share it with them as has none. Every one must take their share in the work then…’

‘Some of ‘em culd die first.’

 

Again a voice remarked:

 

p.131 ‘Then let ‘em die; a few dead would make it better for the living. They must work, or learn to do something useful, and then we shall all be alike - walk alike, talk alike, dress alike; be alike, one happy family like, all brothers and sisters and friends like. Then we shall have our proper share of all the good things of this world, and not be slaves to the rich, look you, all our lives. Is not this worth fighting for, lads?’

 

Several others interjected at that point. Then the speaker resumed:

 

‘… but one thing I do know, that no one ought to go barefooted in a grand rich country like this.’

This was debated further but in the same tone. A reference to ‘masters’ roused the audience.

p. 133 ‘“No masters. No masters” was almost a general shout.

“Well, not masters exactly - not like our present tyrants, you know,” - here something like a hiss of disapprobation was heard, - “but we must be free men, and not slaves as we are.”

 

“No, not slaves, - no indeed never!” from the crowd…’

 

These voices of the working men want change; they feel they are treated as slaves; they are complaining of the inequality that blights society and see the solution as ‘no queen’, ‘no masters’. The connection here to a republican agenda, rather than the Charter’s emphasis on making changes to parliament is striking.

 

I will quote the next section at length as it illustrates many aspects of the writer’s style and handling of point of view: with the narrator always reflecting the audience’s views as well as the speaker’s and just occasionally commenting in a most sympathetic tone, like someone intent on opening up a debate rather than dictating to her reader.

 

pp.133-4 ‘The great preponderance of the exclamations were in the Welsh language now, for they evidently knew that the new comer would address them in that tongue, and many rejoiced in it, for much of what the English speakers said was lost to a large part of the men assembled.

‘“It be Howell, for sure,” cried out several voices. “Now then you speak to them, Howell bach!” and then followed many an encouraging sentence in Welsh, showing how anxious they all were for this man to begin.

‘He soon did so, beginning in rather a low tone of voice at first; but as he warmed to his subject his voice grew louder and louder, and gradually assumed the rhythmical cadence that seems to be an essential of Welsh oratory, whether social, political, or religious. The excited crowd listened eagerly, and rocked to and fro as the speaker’s voice rose and fell like a waving field of high corn agitated by the wind.

‘No one can form any idea of the effect that such oration had at this time on the colliers generally. So many extravagant hopes were held out to them by the fervid Welsh speakers; and besides they understood so much better what was said when addressed in the language generally spoken among the pitmen of this district, that their enthusiasm almost carried them away at times, and gave them the appearance of maniacs.

‘Howell’s address was a long one, and long before his listeners were tired, he seemed to have quite exhausted himself, for he went down off the coke-heap wiping perspiration from his face, and declined to say any more, though much entreated to do so.’

 

Howell is followed to the platform by Mr Ford. Frances captures the moment:

p. 135 ‘Presently there was a call for silence, and Mr Ford passed through the crowd, and took his stand on the coke- heap.

‘His address was a very different one from either of those of the last two speakers. It was short, but most earnest. He explained to them the points of the Charter, adding that there was nothing in any one of these points but what they had a right to as men. He begged them all to keep steadfast and unanimous, and said that the working population so far outnumbered the aristocracy, that their very union was the strength that was wanting to carry out any measure, but, without that perfect union, their cause would be useless.

 

‘He went on to say, also, that the time had not yet come for the final carrying out of their plans, nor would he make them any extravagant promises of the results; but he, and his fellow-workers for them, were all going on a firm conviction that they would, by the steps they were taking, benefit their fellow-men; and then he concluded by hoping that God would aid their endeavours.’

 

p.136 ‘“Bravo, Ford!” was now heard on all sides…’

 

The narrator notes that Ford then urged the workers all to return to their homes ‘in a quiet and orderly way’. But at this point another speaker appears - his voice is impressive. Men were keen to get sight of him. He was tall ‘and wore a great coat’ with the collar pulled up to his face. ‘His hat, too, was placed low on his forehead. He evidently did not wish to show himself more than necessary, for he still kept his place close to Mr Ford.’

 

The speech of the new arrival acknowledges that he is not a working man himself, even though he addresses them as ‘Fellow workmen’ initially.

 

His speech moves quickly from an espousal of equality to calling the name of God in to support him. He notes that they may not get all of the points of the Charter at once. ‘Rome was not built in a day.’ (p.138)

 

He goes on to explain how the views of the aristocracy of their own superiority are wrong. In urging his audience to support the Charter he holds out to them not only the prospect of money and food but also freedom of thought, and promises that the aim must be to be led by ‘honest men, men we can trust’, (p.139), explaining how the rich live and arguing ‘we need to free them’. (p.140)

 

A striking aspect of Frances’ novel is the range of classes from which she draws her characters, enabling us to listen in to their conversations about the Chartist cause, capturing the nuances and differences of their positions.

 

The central character of the novel’s love plot, Mary Price, provides the connecting threads to enable many of these conversations. She is the daughter of the mine manager Mr Price and niece of a local businessman, Mr William Price. Mary’s activities take her from helping her father in his management role, to caring for her brother, Tommy, and other household tasks and to friendships that also range across ‘class divides’.

 

At the top of the local social hierarchy is Lord Meldrun, who is a staunch democrat and expresses sympathy for the Chartists, for instance in conversations with his friend Mr Herbert, a local landowner. Lord Meldrun’s background is presented as shaping his ideas and is contrasted with that of his good friend Mr Herbert. The two young men were said to have been shaped by their mothers: Mrs Herbert noted for her pride and superiority; Lady Meldrun, herself from the ‘lower orders’ and of Irish stock, seeing in her husband ‘the emptiness of the aristocracy’:

 

p. 188 ‘To be born to wealth and title is to go through life without ever hearing or feeling the truth of it, without you bring your sympathies down to those around you.’

 

Mr Price is less sympathetic to the Chartist cause, though his opposition is based on a degree of concern for the workers as he feels that the movement just makes the workers less satisfied with their lot and in that sense is bad for them.

 

As the focus of the narrative becomes more clearly on the story of Mary Price’s love for the Chartist Richard Morris, Frances also makes reference to other events that link to the time and location of her narrative, for instance through references to fever in the valley and legislation on demonstrations, but overall the Chartist struggle remains the context of their daily lives. For instance, an account of another meeting of the Chartists is woven into the story when Peggy, the servant in the Price household, is sent to find the son Tommy, a young man who I think we would describe today as having learning difficulties. He is attracted to Mr Ford and his simple sensitive trust is a touchstone for the reader. Tommy has gone to find Mr Ford and tracing him takes Peggy to a Chartist meeting being held down the mine. In sharp contrast to portraits of working class leaders in contemporary fiction such as the Trade Union leader in Dickens Hard Times, Ford is described as constantly preaching restraint, good order, cooperation, unanimity and no public-house squabbles, as well as republicanism. (v.2, ch.8, p.121) Mr Ford’s good standing in the local community is continually to the fore.

 

When Lord Meldrum is ill and Mary is helping to care for him, they discuss the Chartist movement and Lord Meldrun comments:

 

v. 2, p. 292 'If I had been a strong man, Mary, I would have lent my whole heart and sinews to the cause, now I can only help with money…’

 

Frances’ own position on the Charter can hardly be deduced from the narrative, though without doubt there is a deal of sympathy in her recording of the speeches and private conversations of some of the movement’s local leaders. Her central character is ambivalent about Chartism, usually listening to others speak on the subject, though the love of her life is a leading figure in the local movement. On a rare occasion when her views are given, she is said to feel that changes must come gradually. (v. 2, p.294).

 

In volume 3 the plot moves much faster in order to bring all the central characters together at the moment of the Newport rising. Richard Morris had left the country thinking that Mary had rejected him. His travels to the West Indies are referenced in passing, even as he is returning to Wales via Ireland. Frances chooses this moment to provide us with views on the Charter and on Mr Ford’s approach from the more sceptical Mr William Price. Are these the views of the narrator? It is not clear. They are given more weight by being placed at the end of a chapter, as the narrative pauses before the scenes of action intensify, and the point of view drifts from that moment to apparently the authorial one, having the benefit of hindsight:

 

v. 3, pp. 81-2 ‘Mr Ford judged most men well. He was, of course, warped to one opinion, he was doing what he not only believed right, but what he thought was his imperative duty to perform; he never swerved from the one path…

 

But in his earnest and benevolent view of these things, he grasped at too much; the change he yearned for was too sudden; time and progress had quietly done much since the days that were often weary, anxious days to him, they had brought about much that he paved the way for; but all the wonderful promises that the Charter held out so long ago, were not yet realised, and perhaps never will be.’

 

There is a deeper irony in the final words here if we see them as the views of the author, for whom the pain of the events she is about to chronicle must have remained ever present. By the time of writing she had lost her husband and her second son, a committed republican.

When Richard Morris returns, he remains convinced that Mary has married someone else and decides to throw himself into working for the Chartist cause. Homing in on Chartism once again, Frances here documents another Chartist meeting.

 

The narrator sets the scene - this is where Chartism was up to in Monmouthshire and the west generally and gives the only date in her narrative: ‘towards the close of the year eighteen hundred and thirty-nine’. (v. 3, p.132)

 

Also at this point she shows the degree of opposition to the Charter that is building:

 

‘Coal owners and iron masters generally would speak of the meetings with contempt, while some few of them would try threats of non-employment; others again would try to dissuade the men from joining a movement that had dangers of many sorts attached to it; but the active delegates, who continually kept up the excitement with promises of obtaining all these men asked for…’

 

The narrator details the commitment of Morris to the cause, how hard he is working across the area, how much the men admire and trust him, and how he gives himself to the cause partly because he is able, as having been out of the country for some time, he is not watched like the other leaders. (pp.133-4)

 

v. 3, p. 135 ‘He was most active about the hills; and the men almost began to worship him, for Morris ever had a very charming manner, which he could adapt to any circumstances; and then he spoke so well, made things so plain to his listeners, showed them how little they could lose and how much they were trying to gain, - showed them always, too, that come what would, he would always be with them and for them as long as he lived, - would be one of them until the end.’

 

The narrator comments:

 

‘Only those who were in the midst of these things, can have any idea of that epoch, so full of hopes and fears to many, fears never realised, and hopes put an end to forever with those most active in the struggle, at the very time when hope was at the highest.’

 

It is clear that Frances writes her novel from personal experience and with a strong feeling that she has had experiences that have to be shared. So what her novel offers the historian of Chartist movement is a first hand account not just of the night of the rebellion, but of the community support in its many varied forms that existed in south Wales. She presents a movement whose aspiration is for a democracy for the people to be run by the people; for a society that would have no place for a whole class of lords who kept for itself the wealth gained from the labour of the workers; a society in which equality was foundational, just as it had been for revolutionaries in France.

 

Even today historians have asked us to view this period through the eyes of its ruling elite, from businessmen to writers and politicians.

 

Frances Brough makes it clear for us that we do have republican ancestors: is this the lens through which we can view the past to gain a better understanding of our present?

 

 

Notes;

Frances Brough, Hidden Fire (1867), in the custodianship of the British Library.

 

Jean Webster-Brough, Prompt Copy: The Brough Story.1952.

 
‘A Night with the Chartists: Frost, Williams and Jones: A Narrative of Adventures in Monmouthshire’ (1847).

 

Robert Barnabas Brough died 26 June 1860.

 

As I have suggested above, it would seem that the experiences in Newport must have affected the lives of all her family. Her second eldest son Robert Barnabas Brough, who became a popular writer and dramatist in the 1850s, was renowned for his republican views. He died in his early 30s after more than a decade of intense writing for the theatre, as well as journalism, two novels, two books of poetry, one a translation from French and founding a writers’ support network, The Savage Club, (alive to this day). Francis’ grand-daughter - RBB’s daughter, became a well-known actress and was also very active in forming essentially an early TU, the Theatrical Ladies Guild. Her grandson, RBB’s son, began his career on the stage and moved on to become a theatre manager following in his uncle William’s footsteps in the choice of career, but making the journey to Australia to carry that forward where he had a reputation for his kindness and fairness as an employer as well as being a popular actor.