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Sir William Stirling Hamilton and his vicar: a
little local difficulty
General Sir William Stirling Hamilton,
10th baronet, was a redoubtable old soldier who came
to live at Woodgaters, a house previously occupied by
Lieutenant Colonel Charles Bridger of the Royal Sussex
Regiment, and which was located on the outskirts of
Southwater. He had never been the type to run away
from a problem, and he now perceived there to be one
in the shape of Rev George Edmund Rogers, his local
vicar, with the result that they had a major set-to at
the vicarage and he ended up before the Bench on
Saturday 2 June 1900. From our perspective this is
just a jolly good story, and although the protagonists
must have taken it pretty seriously, it has to be said
that it caused a good deal of hilarity in the
courtroom as well.
So let's tell the tale - but before we do, a little of
the General's background. Stirling Hamilton was born
on 17 September 1830, the eldest son of Sir William
Hamilton and his wife Janet, and from an ancient
family with connections to the Dukes of Abercorn. His
father was an eminent academic who had been educated
at Balliol College, Oxford and later became Professor
of Logic and Metaphysics at Edinburgh; it was said
that in his time he was 'the greatest British
philosopher of the intuitionist school'.
His son William was educated at Edinburgh Academy and
the Military Academy, Addiscombe, and then went into
the Army. He joined the Bengal Artillery as a
lieutenant in 1848, and later played his part in the
suppression of the Indian Mutiny, for which he was
awarded a medal and clasp. He succeeded to his
father's title in 1856, and between 1881-5 he
commanded the Royal Artillery in what was known as the
Western District. In 1885 and 1889 he was promoted
through the subsidiary ranks of general (in the latter
year he assumed by deed poll the additional name of
Stirling), and eventually became a full general as
well as colonel commandant of the Royal Artillery. At
the time the local paper called him 'a historic figure
in connection with our Indian Army' and told of how,
during the Siege of Delhi, he organised the first
company of Sikh Artillery 'which played great havoc on
the defences of the city.....and his conduct was the
theme of much commendation from his superiors'; he was
mentioned in dispatches several times 'during this
business'.
On 15 October 1856 he married Eliza Marcia, the eldest
daughter of Major General Barr of the Bengal Horse
Artillery, and they had two sons (William and John,
born in 1869 and 1873) and four surviving daughters
(Janet, Elizabeth, Mary and Eliza). Willam was to
marry Mabel Mary, the daughter of Major General Henry
Tyndall of Carlton Lawn, Horsham, and like his brother
John took a degree at Cambridge and the four girls
remained unmarried; Eliza lived on at Woodgaters until
her death on 2 June 1932). In his retirement Stirling
Hamilton took on a number of local responsabilities:
he sat on the Bench, was an 'energetic' member of the
Horsham Board of Guardians, was a member of Horsham
Rural District Council and the County Council, and was
a churchwarden and local manager of Southwater school
until that role was taken over by Horsham. In fact it
was the matter of local village education that
precipitated the row which led to his appearing before
the Bench, instead of on it, that Saturday in early
June 1900.
The facts of the matter were as follows: he was
summoned by Rev Rogers for a claimed assault on 13
January, and for using threats on or about 27 January
that year. Presiding over the case were fellow
magistrates RH Hurst (chairman), Captain Rawson, PS
Godman, CJ Lucas and H Padwick. Sterling Hamilton
pleaded not guilty, and his solicitors were Coole and
Haddock (still local), his defence barrister was Mr
Boxall, and the prosecution barrister was Mr R Henwood.
So what was it all about? It appeared that there had
been a lot of bad blood between the two men for some
time, which seemed to centre on the appointment of a
certain teacher at the local school. The vicar, who
had been in post for no more than five years, had not
agreed with Stirling Hamilton's choice, but the latter
had had his way. So local politics had been at play –
and by the way do not assume that the vicar was some
shy, retiring and easily crushable violet. In turned
out that in a previous life he had been a major in the
Queen's Dragoon Guards, 'and still had a militant
spirit', according to defence counsel. So the dispute
wasn't a matter of tough old soldier against weak man
of the cloth - more tough old soldier against tough
younger soldier.
Reading it all today it is impossible to decide on the
rights and wrongs of the matter, so we will just tell
the story as it was laid out in the local paper. But
it is clear that the magistrates hoped that this
disagreement could have been settled out of court; not
only were the two adversaries upper class pillars of
the local community, but their unseemly falling out
had a destabilising effect across the parish, and this
really would not do.
But there was a nastier element to the whole business,
all to do with the finances of the parish clothing
club, which received monies on a regular basis from
parishioners. It seemed that at an earlier point
Stirling Hamilton had accused the vicar, who was
treasurer of the club, of embezzling its funds.
Clearly this was a serious matter, about which Sir
William had written to the Bishop of Chichester, and
as a consequence the Rural Dean had become involved. A
formal investigation into accusations of possible
fraud, at county court level, had been instigated –
but had proved to be groundless.
Nevertheless the whole business rumbled on. The whole
district knew of it, and in an odd act of provocation
the vicar had even gone so far as to stick up unsigned
posters around the parish proclaiming 'Sport, Sport,
Sport! Parson Baiting at Southwater Schools!' While it
is not clear what was the spark that set off Stirling
Hamilton's unhappy visit to the vicarage on 13
January, around mid-day, combustible materials had
been well stacked up in the background.
The following account of what happened is the
prosecution's version of events, so bear that in mind.
Apparently Stirling Hamilton arrived unannounced on
the day, 'in a state of high excitement', demanding to
see Rev Rogers. Mrs Rogers begged her husband not to
receive him, but he did so in their drawing room,
where his visitor accused him of 'having robbed the
poor women who subscribed to the clothing club', and
'having got out of it' by lying and committing
perjury. Strong stuff. The vicar countered that it was
not true, and in an odd twist stated that 'you paid me
£10 to prevent the real delinquent from being run in'.
'It's a lie, it's a lie' shouted Stirling Hamilton –
but the vicar repeated 'It's the truth; you paid me by
cheque, with a note'.
Rogers then attempted to usher him out, at the same
time declaring his behaviour to be 'blackguardly,
creating a disturbance where there were two sick
ladies'. (Apparently his sister and another lady lay
ill in the vicarage at the time). But things got even
more heated, and when Rogers tried to block Sir
William's re-entry by the front door, there was a
scuffle and Sterling Hamilton grabbed him by the
throat. In defence the vicar grabbed on to the flaps
of his attacker's coat and managed to keep him at
arm's length.
At this point Mrs Rogers, who seems to have played a
blinder throughout, rushed between them as Stirling
Hamilton 'made desperate efforts to get his fingers
round the vicar's windpipe'. But the struggle
continued, and apparently Sir William kicked him
several times in the leg – not the behaviour of a
senior officer, surely. The protagonists staggered
onto the gravel drive, where the vicar, in a canny
move, slipped behind his adversary and pulled his coat
down over his arms, thus rendering him helpless -
while at the same time grasping his collar.
Sir William then suddenly stopped struggling and
pleaded with Mrs Rogers to get her husband to release
him. This he did - and immediately the seventy year
old general 'danced away to the corner of the gravel –
he was moving very actively' (much laughter in court).
Mrs Rogers shouted at him 'Do go away, do go away!',
and at her husband 'Do go into the house!'. But as the
latter turned to do so Stirling Hamilton rushed at him
and kicked him again, in the left hip. But it seems
that 'the kick was not as violent as it would
otherwise have been because Sir William made something
of a jump during the performance' (more laughter).
The vicar said that Sir William's head was so swelled
that his blood vessels were standing out like cords,
so he was afraid that to hit him in case he had
apoplexy or he killed him. In the turmoil Sir
William's hat had fallen to the ground, and when, in
an sudden moment of calm, the latter asked for it to
be picked up, the vicar just kicked it towards him,
scared that if he stretched forward the general would
have another go at him. But the hat was a bit of a
mess by now, and Stirling Hamilton declared, rather
grandly, 'If you had a penny piece to your name I
would make you pay for this. But as you haven't I must
let you off'. He also claimed that the vicar 'seemed
afraid to touch me, but not the hat' (laughter). A
member of the vicarage staff passed Sir William his
umbrella, and he then left down the drive,
'reluctantly'.
Don't forget that this version of events is partial,
and Stirling Hamilton's was very different. It was
clear that the Horsham magistrates found themselves in
a quandry. This was a case they really did not want.
The trial had lasted until 4.30 pm, at which point the
Bench retired - but within twenty minutes they were
back, and chairman RH Hurst declared 'the Bench have
considered this matter and have come to the conclusion
that there is so much cross-swearing they they do not
know which to believe and therefore they dismiss the
case'. What a strange business.
The vicar remained in his parish for another five
years, but then he died in April 1905, at the sadly
young age of 57. There is a wall tablet in the church,
placed there by his widow, family and friends in his
honour. As for Sir William, he lived on until 26
September 1913, when he died at his home, aged 83
after a long illness. He was buried, with much honour,
at Holy Innocents, Southwater, close to the scene of
his last engagement. |
