Matthews: a family of East End butchers

Introduction
I have written previous blog articles about my great-grandmother Charlotte Sherwood and have followed her father's line back to my third great-grandfather, William Sherwood. This article focuses on her mother's line, the Matthews. My research has shown the family has deep roots in London's East End that go back well into the 18th Century to John Matthews, who was my fifth great grandfather. There is a record of a John Matthews becoming a Freeman of the City of London on 12th November 1755. It shows that he was a member of the worshipful company of clothworkers, but became a butcher. His father's name was also John Matthews. I have also uncovered the record of a Samuel Matthews, son of John Matthews, who was admitted to the same livery company. I believe they were brothers:

Indenture of Samuel Matthews to his father John.

In an attempt to prove my theory, I uncovered a baptism at St Botolphs without Aldgate dating from 16th July 1740 that appears to match Samuel. It states that he was the son of John and Elizabeth of (Aldgate) High Street. St Botophs was completely rebuilt shortly afterwards, so his brother John must have been baptised elsewhere. I scoured the records and eventually found one at the nearby parish church of St Leonards in Shoreditch that matched:

Baptism record for John Matthews

John Matthews, son of John, was born on 6th June 1742 and baptised on 22nd June. At the time of the baptism they were living in Long Alley, which was later renamed as Appold Street and lies just to the west of where Liverpool Street station now stands.

On the 22 March 1763, the young butcher married Mary Garth at St Matthews Church in Bethnal Green. Over the years that followed they had six children together, all of whom were baptised at the same church. Their first born was Mary bp. 14th August 1763. She was followed by John bp. 15th December 1764, Christopher bp. 5 December 1765, Elizabeth 3rd May 1767, Samuel bp. 2nd November 1768 and James bp. 1780.

The year their youngest was born, London erupted into civil disorder as anti-Catholic sentiment boiled over during the Gordon Riots. The next day and night, ‘Black Wednesday’ 7th June, witnessed London’s most terrible crisis in the modern period, not exceeded until the wartime blitz 160 years later. As the day began, gangs armed with iron bars and bludgeons roamed the streets, knocking door to door and demanding money ‘for the true religion’ or ‘the poor mob’. Damaged or destroyed buildings were systematically looted, and in the hours of darkness many houses at random were broken into and plundered.  Rumours of more rioting to come swept the town. An emergency meeting of the Privy Council that morning, at the personal urging of the King, announced that the military had been given orders to shoot to kill without the need for magistrates first to read the Riot Act. Troops, however, could not be everywhere, yet the London poor seemingly could. Attacks on prominent Roman Catholics resumed through the afternoon and into the evening. Notable among them was the burning of Langdale’s distilleries in Holborn, their great vats of alcohol sending flames and smoke into the sky that were visible thirty miles from London. The fire spread and consumed numerous houses and business around. But the rioters’ main targets were once more the machinery of judicial oppression. Justice Wilmot’s police office at Worship Street, Shoreditch, was demolished and his house in Bethnal Green ransacked.  My gx4 grandfather, Christopher Matthews, would have been a fourteen year old boy at the time of the riots.

Christopher Matthews

Indenture of Christopher Matthews to his father, John

​On the 7th December 1780 when Christopher was fourteen years old he became indentured to his father John, described above as a citizen and butcher of Aldgate High Street.  It could be a costly business securing a place for a child to be trained to join a guild, but it would guarantee a more secure and profitable future for them. As it was for his own son, he only charged him the sum of 1d (1 old penny). The indenture, or apprenticeship, was for a period of seven years.

On the 22 January 1793, when he was 28 years old, Christopher married Elizabeth Teague  at St Dunstan and All Saints in Stepney.  Elizabeth had been baptised on 18 November 1776 in Brighton so she was about 10 years his junior.  He secured the lease to 60 Aldgate High Street, where all eleven of their children were born.

In March 1799 his shop was broken into and his a quantity of money was stolen .  A 15 year old boy named Joseph Sedgley was charged with burglary and was subsequently tried at The Old Bailey on 3rd April 1799. The court records relate the case below:

JOSEPH SEDGLEY was indicted for breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Christopher Matthews , about the hour of one, in the night of the 7th of March, and burglariously stealing two wooden drawers, value 1s. 168 pieces of copper money, called penny-pieces, 474 halfpence, and 30 farthings, the property of the said Christopher .
(The case was opened by Mr. Knowlys.)
CHRISTOPHER MATTHEWS sworn. - Examined by Mr. Knowlys. I am a butcher, I live at No. 60, Aldgate High-street: On the 7th of March, I was the last person up in the house, I went to bed about ten, my premises were then all safe locked up; I was the first up in the house, I went to bed about ten, my premises were then all safe locked up; I was the first up in the morning, I got up about six o'clock, I found that the tiling had been taken off the slaughter-house; the slaughter-house and the shop is all in one, under the same roof that my house is; I missed a great number of penny-pieces, halfpence, and farthings; I suspected the lad at the bar, and I took him to the officers, with a neighbour or two; I apprehended him in his father's house, about eleven o'clock on Saturday morning the 9th.
Q. When you took him; what passed between you? - A. I did not ask him any questions; he said, when I came up to him, stop, I know what you want, I want to go back for my hat.
Mr. Knapp. Q. Had you said nothing to him before that? - A. No, nothing at all.
Mr. Knowlys. Q. How far is his father's house from your's? - A. A very little way, it is in Arrow-alley; we met Mr. Griffiths in Alie-street, and delivered him up to him; I was present when he was searched, I found upon him some halfpence tied up in a handkerchief.
Q. Did you count them? - A. No, I did not; we found two-pence more in his waistcoat pocket, which, he said, was not mine; that was the very expression he made use of.
Q. What quantity of halfpence did you lose altogether? - A. Somewhere about two pounds, in halfpence, farthings, and penny pieces.
Cross-examined by Mr. Alley. Q. You do not mean to swear to the quantity of halfpence? - A. No.
Q. This lad lived with his father up to the time he was apprehended? - A. Yes.
Q. Do you know how old this unfortunate lad is? - A. I believe he is about fifteen.
See original Q. The time that you apprehended him at his father's house, was two days after this had taken place? - A.Yes.
Q. Therefore, if he had been so minded, there was plenty of time for him to have gone any where else? - A. Yes.
Q. You were not present when any conversation took place between the officers and the boy? - A. No.
Q. Have you heard that there is a forty pounds reward for burglary? - A. Yes.
RICHARD OSMOND sworn. - Examined by Mr. Knowlys. Griffiths delivered the prisoner into my custody. (The witness ordered to withdraw).
JOHN GRIFFITHS sworn. - Examined by Mr. Knowlys. I am an officer; the prisoner was delivered to me by Mr. Matthews and another neighbour; I was going out, and I delivered him into the hands of Osmond; I returned, and went into the room where they were; I believe Smith was not there at that time.
Q. Before you relate any thing that the prisoner said, did you, or any body in your hearing, tell him it would be better for him to confess, or worse if he did not? - A. No.
Mr. Knapp. Q. What Osmond might say to him when you were not there, you do not know? - A. No.(Osmond called in again).
Osmond. I found upon the prisoner this parcel of halfpence and penny pieces.
Q. Did you say any thing to him to persuade him to tell every thing that he knew about it, or make him any promise of favour? - A. No, nor any body else in my hearing.
Q. Do you remember such an expression as this- tell us what you know about it, and save yourself from being hanged? - A. No, there was nothing of the kind. After that I found two-pence in his waistcoat pocket, and he said it did not belong to Mr. Matthews: Griffiths said, there were more halfpence missing; and he said, if they would send for his father, he would tell them; then he said that they were hid under a stone in his father's yard; Griffiths and another went there, and after they were gone, he said he had missed telling them of the drawers which were under the cellar stairs, and then Smith went after them; when Griffiths came back, he said something which I did not hear.
Cross-examined by Mr. Knapp. Q. He referred you to his father's house, and to his father, for the rest of the things that you had not found upon him? - A. Yes.
Q. His father was at home? - A. Yes.
Q. Therefore, whether his father might not have given him these things, you cannot swear? - A. I cannot.
Q. And every thing that was found by his reference to his father's house, were found in his father's house? - A. Yes; his mother told him he had better tell the truth, while Griffiths was gone.
EDWARD SMITH sworn. - Examined by Mr. Knowlys. I found these two drawers by the direction of the prisoner under the coal box in his father's cellar; I found them exactly where he had directed me.
Cross-examined by Mr. Knapp. Q. He gave you directions where to find them; but whether he had put them there, or whether his father or any body else had put them there, you cannot tell? - A. No.
JOHN GRIFFITHS sworn. - Examined by Mr. Knowlys. - I am one of the Police-officers, (produces some money); I found it at his father's house under a stone in the ground; the prisoner told me it was hid there; I asked him who was with him in the robbery of Mr. Matthews, and he said, no person but himself.
Matthews. These are my drawers, I have tried them, and they fit exactly.
The prisoner called seven witnesses, who gave him a good character.
GUILTY Death . (Aged 15.)

The prisoner was recommended to his Majesty's mercy by the Jury and the prosecutor, on account of his youth
Tried by the London Jury, before Mr. Baron HOTHAM.

In 1799 the death sentence was handed out for a wide range of offences under a system of punishment known as the Bloody Code. In reality, only a fraction of these death sentences were ever carried out. Indeed, in this case, there is no evidence the poor boy was hanged and it appears the plea for clemency was granted. There is a record for a Joseph Sedgley being transported to New South Wales the following year here.

Throughout this period of Christopher's life his family grew: John born in November 1794, Elizabeth on 7th April 1796, Jane on 16th July 1799, Christopher on 4th September 1801, James on 21st July 1803, Sarah on 11th January 1806, Henry Edwin in 1808, George Garth (grandmothers maiden name) in 1810, but died in 1812, our ancestor George on 17th February 1813, Mary Ann on 7th February 1815 and finally Susannah in February 1819.  She also only survived for one year.

60 Aldgate High Street was rented to Christopher Matthews and in 1820 the owner died and the leases for the four butchers shops, 57,58,59 and 60 were put up for sale. Christopher continued to trade from his shop until his death in August 1824 aged 58.

George Matthews

Our family line comes from George,​ born 17 February 1813. Like his father and grandfather before him, he joined the family business and worked as a butcher. When he reached the age of 18 he got married to a young woman by the name of Martha Wright. The wedding took place in the parish of St Giles without Cripplegate, on the 24th February 1830. The church still stands to this day even though it is surrounded by the brutalist architecture of the Barbican Centre.

Four years after the wedding, George became a Freeman of the City of London:

Seven years after this honour was bestowed on him, the census shows the family were living 46 Aldgate High Street, next door to the Hoop and Grapes public house.  George was 28 years old and working as a butcher, his wife Martha was also 28 and they had four children, Mary (10) Christopher (7) Martha (4) and Elizabeth (2). The baptism record for Martha shows that they were previously living at 54 Aldgate High Street.​

The Hoop and Grapes with No. 46 to the left

The suburb of Whitechapel and the surrounding area became 'the other half' of London, located east of Aldgate, outside the City Walls and beyond official controls.  It attracted the less fragrant activities of the city, particularly tanneries, breweries, foundries (including the Whitechapel Bell Foundry which later cast Philadelphia's Liberty Bell and London's Big Ben) and slaughterhouses although the biggest meat market was at Smithfield, also outside of the city walls.

By the 1840s, Whitechapel, along with Wapping, Aldgate, Mile End, Bow, Shadwell and Stepney (collectively known today as the 'East End'), had evolved into the classic "Dickensian" London, with problems of poverty and overcrowding.  Whitechapel Road itself was not particularly squalid through most of this period—it was the warrens of small dark streets branching from it that contained the greatest suffering, filth and danger.


The picture below shows the row of butchers’ shops that Whitechapel had been well known for since the 17th century.  Many slaughter-houses here and in Aldgate and indeed all over London were at the backs of the houses. That means that all the animals had to be taken through the front of the shop to be slaughtered at the rear and then all of the blood etc. would run back through the premises and into the gutter in the street outside!  It would most probably be in just such a building that George and Martha were living.

Butchers Row Aldgate circa 1817

The East End was rapidly expanding ever eastwards and by 1847 the Matthews family had left the familiar surroundings of Aldgate High Street. They lived briefly at 14 Coborn Road before settling at 1 Bridge Street, Mile End Old Town, about a mile east of their old haunt. The 1851 census tells us that George was still a butcher and the family now consisted of George and Martha, both 38, Mary Hannah (19) Christopher (15) George (9) Henry (7) Edward (5) James (3) and Emma (3 months).  Martha and Elizabeth are not recorded.

Extract from Reynold's 1847 Map of London

The death of his wife, Martha, in early 1859 must have been a terrible blow that placed significant strain on George and his eldest daughter, Martha, who probably had to assume the role of her late mother. The 1861 census shows the family moved a few streets away to 4 Bow Common Road (marked blue). George, now a widower, describes himself as a cattle dealer rather than a butcher and he lived at the address with his children; Martha aged 23 and working as a governess, James aged 13, Emma aged 10, Charles aged 6 and Kate aged just 3.

By 1871 with the older children having grown up and left home, George is living with his youngest daughter Kate, now aged 13. They are boarding at 7 Salisbury Place in Bethnal Green close to Victoria Park cemetery (now renamed Meath Gardens). George and ceased working as a cattle dealer and had resumed work as a butcher.

George met a young woman named Eliza Woods and married her on 25 March 1872. At the time they got married he was 59 years old and his bride was just 21. In the years that followed they had two children, Ada in 1874 and William Ernest 1875. They had lived in City Road and then in Old Ford, but by 1881 George, his young wife and their children had moved to 15 Sedgewick Road in Homerton.  By the  following census in 1891 the 78-year-old George and his family had moved again and were residing at 143 Glenarm Road in Hackney. Despite is advancing years, he was still working as a butcher. Incredibly, the 88-year-old George was still around in 1901! The census shows him and his family living in Fort House Road in Hackney and although he is no longer working, he is described as "living on own means", which suggests he had acquired enough wealth in his long life to enjoy a reasonable standard of living. George passed away 3 years later at the grand old age of 91, quite an achievement in Edwardian England.

My wonderful grandma

It is with great sadness that today we said goodbye to grandma, who passed away on Sunday 9th December, just 5 months short of her 100th birthday. I feel blessed to have known her, not only as a child growing up but as an adult as well and she shared many of her memories, not just with me but her other grandchildren as well.

She was born Daisy Eveline Hewitt at The Plough public house on Ilford Lane on 25th May 1919, the youngest daughter of Herbert Arthur Hewitt, a publican and Ada Louisa Deacon. Growing up, Daisy was close to her elder brothers and sisters: Bert, Lily, Fred, Bill and Wyn. Their father had taken over the running of the pub in 1917 and remained there until late 1924, when ill health forced him to give it up. Like her sister, Wyn; Daisy was sent away to be educated at the licensed victuallers boarding school in Slough.

On leaving school, she worked as a sales assistant in Barkers department store on Kensington High Street before joining the telecommunications company, Plessey, as a wages clerk. It was whilst working there she met Alan Melton. The couple were married on 26th April 1941 at St Margaret's Church in Barking. The wedding took place just 4 days before Alan had to report for military training. Later that year, Alan was posted overseas to Egypt and spent the remainder of the war both in North Africa and Italy. While her husband was over there, Daisy joined the civil defence force and rode with the ambulances helping people who had been bombed out of their houses during the blitz.

Grandma in civil defence uniform outside 23 Twyford Road, Ilford

The couple were reunited when the war ended in 1945 and my Dad, Keith, was born the following year, and just over a year after that, his brother Barry was born. The family lived with her mother at 23 Twyford Road in Ilford, our great-grandmother had been a widow for some 20 years at this point following the death of her husband in 1925. A few years later, the family moved out to Reynolds Court in Chadwell Heath before moving again a couple of years later to a bungalow at 166 Lodge Lane in Collier Row, which was named "Sherwood" in honour of Alan's mother.

On holiday in Sandown, Isle of Wight

During those years, the family enjoyed beach holidays on the Isle of Wight, where they were often joined by Bill, Ada and Barbara and by Bert and Gladys . Bill, I am told, would kindly offer to warm up a bit of the sea, so they could comfortably swim in the English Channel!

Family photo taken on holiday

In 1965, the family moved again, this time to a newly-built house at 32 Norton Road in Ingatestone. The house had a large garden with fruit trees and a vegetable patch and I have fond memories of playing there with my sister and cousins; Natalie, Janine and Richard. Afterwards, we would each be given 50p to spend in the old-fashioned sweet shop at the other end of village, which had shelves and shelves containing all kinds of sweets, but only enough room for about 3 children to stand inside.

Following granddad Alan's death in 1980, grandma would often spend the weekend with us. She would get up early with us and play board games with Clare and I. She was always fun to be around. In the summer holidays, we would stay with her and enjoyed many days out which usually involved getting the train, which I loved. We would spend the day by the sea in Southend or maybe travel up to London to visit Auntie Lily and admire the view from her 18th floor flat.

Grandma was always so kind and welcoming. For example, when I met Antonia, she accepted her straight away and said to her that she was her grandma too now. On one occasion when she stayed with us in London, we took her to Kensington Roof Gardens, situated atop Barkers department store where she had worked in the 1930s. She loved that.

Grandma and I in Greenwich Park

She remained active well into her nineties and would still make herself a cooked breakfast every day, a meal that she considered to be the most important of the day. Eventually though, the house in Ingatestone became too much for her to manage and after my Dad died, Barry helped her to move to a cottage in the village where he lives. He helped her to settle in and built her a little summer house in the garden . Whilst she was living there, we enjoyed days out to Leeds Castle and to Ightham Mote in Kent and occasionally brought her back to our house in London to spend the day with us. I know the arrival of her great-grandchildren was another source of much joy for her.

Sadly, grandma suffered a nasty fall and broke her leg. The injury and concern over her increasing frailty meant that the decision was taken for her move into a nursing home in Pembury, Kent. Here, she was well cared for and even though Alzheimers disease was taking hold, she still enjoyed regular visits from Barry and the rest of the family.

It is terribly sad that she is no longer with us, but we can all take comfort in the knowledge that her spirit has now been reunited with Alan, Keith, her siblings and her parents. RIP Grandma - we all love you xx

The Fall and Rise of Mr Berry

The British Newspaper Archive is a fantastic resource. Every so often my research into our family's history uncovers something that really brings an individual to life. The edition of The Morning Post published on Thursday 19th January 1854 does just that. Page 7 carries details of a case that was heard at Marlborough Street Magistrates Court. The article reads:

 EXTENSIVE EMBEZZLEMENT - William Henry Berry, confidential clerk in the service of Mr William Ward, wine merchant, 27 Regent Street, was brought up for final examination charged with having embezzled money to a large amount, the property of his employer.
Mr Ward said the prisoner had been in his employ, as clerk and collector, for about 12 years - he left about three or four years ago, but came again into his service in October 1852. From that period the prisoner was authorised to receive money on his account, and to enter the money so received in the cash book, paying the same into his bankers, Messrs Prescott and Co. Prosecutor had discovered that the prisoner had received from Mr Howse the sums of 8l 16s, 4l 3s, and 5l 15s without making any entry in the cash book. On the 5th instant prosecutor received the following letter from the prisoner:-

"17 Green Walk, Jan 5, 1854

W.Ward Esq.
Sir, - Pardon the liberty I take in presuming to address you. It is not to palliate my conduct in having abused the confidence you placed in me, but to appeal to your pity on behalf of my innocent wife and children - if you could refrain from prosecuting me I should owe a lasting debt of gratitude, which a whole life can never repay, and I am anxious and willing to make every reparation and restitution in my power by endeavouring to repay my defalcations, and, if you require it, to point out in the books the items which I have appropriated to a use which I am heartily ashamed to name. Oh! the first false step, to what has it brought me. If I had only told my wife when I was a little involved, I should have been saved; but I thought to retrieve myself without her knowing it, and thus made bad worse. Oh! sir, pray have pity on them. You will say I myself ought to have done so. I ought; and if I only had to suffer I should deserve no pity. But the pangs of conscience I have felt for some time past, and now, is a dreadful punishment., and has unfitted me for business. But it will be a warning to me, never again to indulge in any kind of vice. The time was when your presence in the business was a pleasure to me; but latterly, a fearful discovery has made it a burthen, and it has been a relief to me when you have left. Twelve months ago no man had a happier mind or happier house than I; but now I have made my mind a wreck. I could bear it no longer and was almost mad. Should you determine to take extreme measures, I should give no trouble, but will plead guilty to all, and you can produce this letter against me. - With grateful thanks for past kindness, and sincere sorrow for my ingratitude to you, I am, your unhappy servant, W. H. Berry"

Prosecutor caused the prisoner to be apprehended on the 7th inst., on which occasion the prisoner begged for mercy on account of his wife and children.
Mr Howse proved the several payments to the prisoner.
The amount supposed to be embezzled was 300l.
Police-constable Stringer, C193, took the prisoner into custody. Heard him ask for mercy on account of his wife and family, and found the rough draft of the penitential letter upon him.
The prisoner made no defence, and was fully committed.

Mark the Dairyman

This blog article describes the life of my greatx2 grandfather, Mark Harris. Mark was the son of Daniel and Maria Harris and was born in the Gloucestershire village of Hanham in around 1836. Hanham is located six miles to the east of Bristol and stands on the River Avon. In those days, people in the village were either employed in agriculture or worked in one of the local coal mines. Mark’s father was agricultural labourer. Daniel and Maria had the baby Mark christened at the parish church in the nearby village of Oldland on 26^th February 1837. Later that same year, Queen Victoria ascended to the throne.

By the time of the first comprehensive census, taken on 6^th June 1841, the five-year-old Mark was living with his parents and siblings Mary (11), James (9), George (7), Ann (3) and Eliza (1). Mark’s father was still employed as an agricultural labourer and it must have been a financial struggle bringing up a young growing family.

For most children there was little or no school education and as Mark and the other boys grew up they would have been expected to work to contribute to the family coffers.  Indeed by the time Mark was 15, he was working as a labourer with his Dad. Mark’s older brother George was working next door as a servant at the house of a certain Moses Brain, a yeoman.

Mark must have grown tired of the rural life and dreamed of broadening his horizons. The construction of the Great Western Railway connected Bristol and the rest of the West Country to London. Mark took advantage of the growing railway network and decided to seek his fortune in London. He ended up in Bermondsey which was an overcrowded working class area. It was known as the larder of London thanks to the many food related industries. 

Whilst living in Bermondsey, Mark met a young woman named Elizabeth Walden, who was originally from near Guildford in Surrey. Mark and Elizabeth got married on 25^th December 1857 at St Paul’s parish church. Their first child, a daughter whom they named Ann Elizabeth Harris, was born at their home, 1 Parker’s Buildings in Bermondsey, on 4^th October 1858. They had a son two years later in the autumn whom they named William Harris. The census taken in the spring of 1861 showed the family were living at Guildford Place in Bermondsey. They shared the property with five members of the Nook family so it must have felt rather overcrowded. Mark was working as a dairyman’s labourer at this stage in his life.

In the early 1860s, Mark and his family moved to the nearby area of Horsleydown. At this time the area was a hardworking community whose livelihood depended on the wharves and docks of the Pool of London. At the steps leading down to the Thames there were ferrymen who earned a living rowing people across to the north bank of the river or taking sailors to their vessels. Every summer there was a regatta at Horsleydown. This was quite an event and the streets were decorated with flags and bunting. The watermen competed for a new skiff and prizes varying from 30s to £5 would be given. This would have provided an enjoyable day out for the Harris family.

During the 1860s Mark and Elizabeth had four more children: Louisa (b1862), Alice (b1866), Florence Louisa (b1867) and Henry (b1868). The constant cycle of pregnancy and childbirth must have taken its toll on Elizabeth’s health as in the early months of 1870 she developed cancer of the uterus. As her illness worsened, her sister moved in with the family at 11 Goat Street to help look after her and the children. Mark apparently had to work to support the family and could not care for her. Sadly, Elizabeth died on 28^th August 1870 and she was buried at Nunhead cemetery. She was just 37 years old. The census taken during the spring of the following year shows that Mark and his children were still living at 11 Goat Street in Horsleydown. They shared the address with Mark’s two sisters-in-law; Sarah Walden and Annie Walden; Annie’s two month old baby son, Frederick and a fifteen year old servant by the name of John Rilly. By this time Mark was working as a dairyman.

Mark and his sister-in-law, Sarah, had grown close following his wife’s death and their relationship developed. They had 6 children together:  Marie (b1872), Grace Helena (b1873), Minnie (b1874), Edward (b1875), Emily (b1877), Ethel (b1879) and finally Nellie in 1881. Mark’s eldest daughter, Ann Elizabeth Harris, was married in 1879 to Edward Pettit. At the time of the wedding, the Harris family were living at Blackman Street, Newington.

In the census of spring 1881, Mark described Sarah Walden as his wife, even though they had never actually got married. By this time Mark and Sarah were living at 63 Queen Elizabeth Street with eleven of the children. Mark was still working as a dairyman and his eldest son, William, was apparently working with him. The post office directory of 1882 describes a chandlers shop at 63 Queen Elizabeth Street, so it is reasonable to assume they were living above the shop.

Once again tragedy struck the family. Sarah died of tuberculosis, on 16^th February 1884. Sarah was buried alongside her sister in Nunhead cemetery. She was just 45 years old at the time of her death. Mark had to somehow feed and care for his family on his own. He did not have to wait too long for help to arrive and developed a close friendship with a widow named Rose Anderson. They married on 16^th December 1884, exactly 10 months after Sarah’s death.

In 1886 construction began on a project which would have a profound effect on the future of Horsleydown. There were five major contractors involved: Sir John Jackson (foundations), Baron Armstrong (hydraulics), William Webster, Sir H. H. Bartlett and Sir William Arrol and Co. The construction site employed 432 workers. Two massive piers containing 70,000 tons of concrete were sunk into the bed of the Thames to support the new structure. Over 11,000 tons of steel provided the framework for the towers and walkways. This was then clad with Cornish granite and Portland stone, both to protect the underlying steelwork and to give a pleasing appearance. Tower Bridge was officially opened on 30^th June 1894 by the Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII) and his wife, Alexandra of Denmark, to much fanfare. This would have been quite a spectacle for Mark and his family. A new southern approach road to the bridge was constructed. Tower Bridge Road was 60ft wide and cut a swathe through the middle of Horsleydown. The construction of the road displaced homes and businesses.

 As the bridge was being constructed, Mark continued his work as a dairyman. In 1891 Mark, his wife Rose and 8 of his children were still living at 63 Queen Elizabeth Street. There is some evidence that his chandlery business was doing well, probably due to all the construction workers in the area. His daughter Louisa is listed in the census as working as an assistant in the milk shop. His son Henry was working as a telegraphist and his children Grace, Minnie, Edward and Emily, were all working as assistants in the shop. The two youngest children, Ethel and Nelly were at school.

By 1895, Mark’s business had moved the short distance to 18a and 25 Queen Elizabeth Street, possibly due to the construction of Tower Bridge Road. Four years later and by then in his sixties, Mark had scaled back his business and was trading as a dairyman out of 18 Queen Elizabeth Street. A further two years later and Mark had moved to 19 Marine Street, Bermondsey with his wife and daughter Louisa. Louisa was working as an assistant in the milk shop while he was still heading up the business. T


Three years later Mark was living at 5e Peabody Buildings on East Lane in Bermondsey. The Peabody Buildings were blocks of Improved Model Dwellings for the “respectable working class”, which replaced the slummiest homes with neat, weatherproof, clean, much sought after small flats. The living accommodation was self-contained, though kitchen areas tended to be communal for all but the most basic cooking, and sanitary provision was also in sets. All they lacked were bathrooms (nobody but the extremely rich had them). The tenants were carefully selected, and were generally in steady work and not (therefore) the poorest folk. The Estates were carefully managed and supervised and there were rules about conduct, as well as the use and abuse of the property: no wallpaper [might harbour vermin], no nails on the walls, no drunkenness. There was a resident superintendent at each estate. Rents varied from 2s 6d for a single room to 5s for three, but most families would have had just 2 rooms, with a communal W.C. and sink on the landing, shared with 1/2 other families. The Bermondsey Estate, which had been built in 1875, comprised 6 blocks, A-F and only had 3 floors. In total it accommodated 71 families, plus superintendent's accommodation.  (Lyonsfamily.co.uk, date unknown)

Mark died of pneumonia at his flat in Peabody Buildings on 12^th April 1904. From humble beginnings in the West Country, he had become a dairyman and built up his own business. He was by no means wealthy but managed to earn enough money to support his thirteen children. His personal life had been marked by tragedy, losing two wives to illness. Perhaps it was his work that helped him to overcome the grief caused by their deaths and ultimately his greatest triumph was ensuring that his family avoided the depths of poverty. Mark was buried in the family tomb in Nunhead cemetery on 19^th April 1904 alongside his two earlier wives. The inscription on the headstone reads:

The Memory of Elizabeth Harris who died August 28^th 1870 aged 37 years. We laid her in the hallowed grave with hope in him who died to save. Also of Sarah Walden who died February 16^th 1884 in her 45^th year. Also of Mark Harris who died on April12^th 1904 aged 68 years. Eternal rest grant to his soul oh lord. Also of Louisa Maria daughter of the above who died June 2^nd 1913 aged 50 years. Also of Ann Elizabeth Pettit daughter of the above Mark Harris who died March 28^th 1933 aged 74 years gone but not forgotten.

So, two of his daughters were interred with him as well. As a post-script to this story, probate for Mark’s death was not granted to his widow Rose until 27^th April 1905. The fact it took over a year to sort out his affairs suggests there was some wrangling. After all that, poor Rose only received £5 in the will, which is equivalent to £57 in today’s money. 

x

Remembering their sacrifice 100 years on

With the 100th anniversary of the armistice rapidly approaching, I wanted to pay tribute to those members of our family who fought in "the war to end all wars". Some of them, captured by  patriotic fervour at the outbreak of war in 1914 bravely volunteered to serve their country, but as the war dragged on into 1916, the British Government was forced to introduce conscription which meant that married older men and fathers were forced to fight. My great-grandfathers, John Robert Melton and Charles James Upson were directly affected by this. 38 year old "Bob" Melton reported for duty with the 14th Battalion of the London Regiment (London Scottish) on 2nd August 1917. At the time, the married shipping clerk had 7 children between the ages of 3 and 16. 

Bob Melton with his wife Charlotte and daughter Kath

Charles, who oversaw the printing presses at the Ilford Recorder was also married and had 2 children; Violet aged 3 and Ivy, who was an 8th month old baby. The following excerpt from the Chelmsford Chronicle  shows that he lodged an appeal, but had his case dismissed. He subsequently joined the army and became a private in the Machine Gun Corps.

Excerpt from Chelmsford Chronicle dated 25th May 1917

I've recently been researching my great grandparents male siblings to see whether they served overseas in the First World War and managed to undercover some interesting stories. Bob's younger brother, Albert, volunteered with the 6th Battalion of the London Regiment (City of London Rifles) aged just 17. His regiment was dispatched to France on 17th August and formed part of the 47th (2nd London) Division that fought at the Battle of Loos. He only remained on the Western Front until 4th January 1916 and was discharged because he had lied about his age when he enlisted.

Charles's younger brothers also served in the First World War. Wilfred Owen Upson also joined the London Scottish and became Batman to Major Clowes. Rather than being some kind of caped crusader, a "Batman" is military terminology for a servant. He travelled to France with the regiment on 17th August 1915 and aside from a period of home leave in September 1917 remained there until April 1918. Arthur Upson served in the Army Pay Corps and the youngest brother, Albert Upson joined the Royal Navy and served on various land-based training facilities in Chatham and in Skegness. Neither saw front line action.

Charles's wife, my great grandmother Violet Lily Upson (formally Snow), had an older brother called Thomas Snow who was a Sergeant in the 4th Battalion of the Essex Regiment. He initially saw action in Gallipolli (August - December 1915) before being evacuated to the Greek island of Lemnos and then on to Alexandria (Egypt). The unit was later involved in the Palestinian campaign and fought at the 1st, 2nd and 3rd battles of Gaza.

My great-grandmother Ada Louisa Hewitt (formally Deacon), had a younger brother called William who joined the Royal Field Artillery. He served in France between 22nd June and 3rd December 1916. His unit was then moved to Salonika (in Greece) and remained there until 10th June 1917. After his stint in Greece he spent the remainder of the war in Alexandria (Egypt).

Perhaps the most heart-rending story I have found is that of William Edward Sherwood, the older brother of my great grandmother Charlotte Melton (formally Sherwood). At the outbreak of the war in 1914, Bill was a 36 year old wharf foreman living with his wife, Emily and their 2 children: Stanley aged 11 and Doris aged 8 in London's Limehouse. His life was turned upside down in 1915 as firstly his wife died in early in the year  and then his mother died suddenly on Christmas Day at her home on Salmon Lane of a brain haemorrhage. The family had been ripped to shreds and with the introduction of government conscription the following year, Bill found himself having to leave his children behind. Bill joined 19th Battalion London Regiment on 11th December 1916 and saw action at the Battle of Messines, the 3rd Battle of Ypres and at Cambrai, where on 29th November the unit took over the recently-captured Bourlon Wood just in time to be hit by a German counter-attack the following morning. The 1/19th Londons were badly affected by the enemy bombardment, particularly by gas shells. Out of 15 officers and over 600 men of the battalion who took up position in the wood, only 5 officers and 65 other ranks remained in the line by the end of the day, and many of those were later evacuated to hospital suffering the effects of gas. Unfortunately, it appears that Bill was one of those men. He was transported to Stationary Hospital No. 3 in Rouen and he succumbed to his injuries on 5th December 1917. He was laid to rest at the St Sever Cemetery Extension in Rouen and is commemorative certificate from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission is below:

Sherwood – A Story of Poverty in London’s East End

This chapter of the Sherwood story begins with my 3xgreat grandfather, William Sherwood. He was born in the Lincolnshire village of Saxilby on 18^th November 1820. Church records show that his parents, Richard and Elizabeth Sherwood had him baptised in the parish church the following day. Richard was an agricultural labourer and this would have provided some small income for the family.

Saxilby is situated 8 miles from the city of Lincoln and is located on the Foss Dyke, an inland waterway which, in those days, enabled grain and wool to be transported from Lincoln to the North via the River Trent. In return, it also allowed coal and cloth to be imported from the industrial areas of the north. Growing up, William would have witnessed barges sailing along the Foss Dyke and it was probably scenes such as these which inspired him to go to sea as an apprentice at the age of 16. 

Seaman's ticket

At the time of writing, nothing is known about the early years of his career. However, on 16^th August 1845, he was registered with a seaman’s ticket. The seaman’s ticket system was introduced by the government to create a register of merchant seaman who, in the event of war, could be called into naval service. The document provides some fascinating details. It reveals that William was 5ft 6 inches tall and he had brown hair, a dark complexion and hazel eyes. He also had a tattoo of a man on his right arm. Significantly, when he wasn’t employed on a vessel as a seaman, he was living in London.

The document offers tantalising information about his voyages as well. On 22^nd November 1845, he set sail from London on a London-registered ship bound for the West Indies. He was at sea for almost 9 months and his ship did not return to London until 14^th August 1846. When his ship docked he would have had to run the gauntlet of local people who lived off the sailors. This account written after the event paints a vivid picture of the dockland community in about 1845:

The inhabitants of Ratcliff Highway lived upon the sailors. There were a great many lodging-houses there; still more clothiers and outfitters; and any number of public-houses and beer shops, nearly every one of which had a dancing saloon at the back of the bar. Jack came ashore with his pockets full of money, but they quickly emptied. He was ready enough to spend his pay, but there were other persons still more ready to despoil him of it. In those days there were no Government officials to board the vessels and arrange for the safe despatch of Jack’s money, and Jack himself to his home. No sooner did a vessel reach her moorings than she was swarming with boarding-house touts, crimps, outfitters, runners, and other rapacious beasts of prey. Poor Jack was soon in the hands of the Philistines.
 From the public-houses in Ratcliff Highway there constantly issued the sound of loud laughter, mingled with shouting and fearful imprecations. Far into the night the women and the drunken sailors danced and sang to the accompaniment of screeching fiddles. For the most part the women wore white dresses and white shoes. If the sailors were not entirely fleeced inside the saloons, the process was completed by bullies and fighting men when they staggered out into the street. The poor fellows were frequently drugged, and sometimes half murdered. (Round London : Down East and Up West, by Montagu Williams Q.C., (1894))

Bill did not remain in port long and returned to sea on 24^th August on a Newcastle registered ship. The ship did not return to England until 7^th December when it docked in Newcastle. Bill spent Christmas in England and may have visited his parents in Saxilby. He set sail early in the new year and departed Newcastle on 6^th January 1847.

The ship spent over four and half months at sea before docking at Hull on 30^th May. Bill spent the remainder of the year on dry land. During this time, he may have visited his family in Lincolnshire before returning to London.

Once back in London he met a girl. Charlotte Tarrant was a parasol maker from Wapping and her father was, like him, a mariner. They were married on 21^st February 1848 at Christchurch, Watney Street. Once they were married they moved into Charlotte’s family’s house at 37 Broad Street, Wapping. The house was on the east side of the road and looked across to the huge sugar warehouse that formed part of the London Docks. Henry Mayhew captured the scene at the time:

As you enter the dock the sight of the forest of masts in the distance, and the tall chimneys vomiting clouds of black smoke, and the many-coloured flags flying in the air, has a most peculiar effect; while the sheds with the monster wheels arching through the roofs look like the paddle-boxes of huge steamers. Along the quay you see, now men with their faces blue with indigo, and now gangers with their long brass tipped rule dripping with spirit from the cask they have been probing. Then will come a group of flaxen-haired sailors, chattering German; and next a black sailor, with a cotton handkerchief twisted turban-like round his head. Presently a blue-smocked butcher, with fresh meat and a bunch of cabbages in the tray on his shoulder; and shortly afterwards a mate, with green paroquets in a wooden cage. Here you will see sitting on a bench a sorrowful-looking woman, with new bright cooking tins at her feet, telling you she is an emigrant preparing for her voyage. As you pass along this quay the air is pungent with tobacco; on that, it overpowers you with the fumes of rum; then you are nearly sickened with the stench of hides and huge bins of horns; and shortly afterwards the atmosphere is fragrant with coffee and spice. Nearly everywhere you meet stacks of cork, or else yellow bins of sulphur, or lead-coloured copper ore. As you enter this warehouse the flooring is sticky, as if it had been newly tarred, with the sugar that has leaked through the casks; and as you descend into the dark vaults, you see long lines of lights hanging from the black arches, and lamps flitting about midway. Here you sniff the fumes of the wine, and there the peculiar fungus-smell of dry rot; there the jumble of sounds as you pass along the dock blends in anything but sweet concord. The sailors are singing boisterous nigger songs from the Yankee ship just entering; the cooper is hammering at the casks on the quay; the chains of the cranes, loosed of their weight, rattle as they fly up again; the ropes splash in the water; some captain shouts his orders through his hands; a goat bleats from some ship in the basin; and empty casks roll along the stones with a heavy, drum-like sound. Here the heavily-laden ships are down far below the quay, and you descend to them by ladders; whilst in another basin they are high up out of the water, so that their green copper sheathing is almost level with the eye of the passenger; while above his head a long line of bowsprits stretches far over the quay, and from them hang spars and planks as a gangway to each ship. ('The Tower Subway and London Docks', Old and New London: Volume 2 (1878))

London Docks circa 1845

On 4^th March 1848, less than two weeks after they were married, Bill went to sea again. He returned to London exactly 5 months later on 4^th August 1848. Charlotte became pregnant and she gave birth to their first child, whom they named Sarah Elizabeth Sherwood, in the early months of 1849. Sarah was born in Saxilby, which suggests they travelled freely between London and Lincolnshire. Sarah’s birth was followed by a son the following year. William Francis Sherwood was born on 19^th December 1850 at 37 Broad Street. The baby William was baptised on 5^th January 1851 at St Georges in the East.

William Francis Sherwood birth certificate

By the time of the census three months later, Bill had moved back to Church Road, Saxilby with his parents and was working as an agricultural labourer. His wife Charlotte remained in London and was living with their children at 37 Broad Street. They shared the house with her father John Tarrant, who was now working as a sail maker, his wife (Sarah) and their three children Sarah, Samuel and William. Also living in the house was a blacksmith, his wife and their two children. A grand total of 12 people living in very cramped conditions. Charlotte and two other members of the household were working as parasol makers.

Why had Bill left his wife and kids behind? Was there a scarcity of work in London? Or had their marriage hit the rocks? Perhaps it was both. Whatever the reason for their separation, Bill returned to London to be with them by the end of the year and the following summer Martha Warrick Sherwood was born. She was baptised on 24^th October 1852 at St Georges in the East.

The following autumn disaster struck the family. Bill's 4-year-old daughter Sarah died suddenly of Cholera on 18th November 1853 and within days her younger sister Martha followed her. The overcrowded housing of the East End enabled infection to spread quickly and there was little that could be done in those days, especially if you were poor. The pain of this loss must have been unbearable.

Ellen Sherwood was born in the early months of 1854 and although her birth must have helped to ease their sense of loss, there must have been concern that disease could return. Other parts of the city had seen various epidemics. There had been outbreaks of Cholera in South London the previous summer and in the summer of 1854 there was a major outbreak in Soho.

On 3^rd April 1856 William and Charlotte had another son whom they named John Moses Sherwood. Baby John was baptised at St George in the East on 27^th April .  At the time, the family had recently moved to 1 Princes Street following the death of Charlotte’s father. 1 Princes Street was in Wapping and was the address of the St George in the East workhouse. It was perhaps the poor conditions at the workhouse that lead to another family tragedy, the death of baby John that summer aged just 4 months. He was buried at St Dunstan’s, Stepney on 5^th August.

London in the mid-nineteenth century was an extremely dirty and unhealthy place. Three million people populated the city and many houses still relied on cess pits, especially in the poorer districts. Effluent was often forced upwards after periods of sustained wet weather. In 1847 the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers decreed that all privy waste must be discharged into sewers. This seemed like a good idea and many districts in London, particularly the wealthier areas, were connected to a network of sewers. The problem was that these sewers discharged directly into the Thames and its tributaries and the rivers were overwhelmed by untreated sewage. Those same rivers were still used as a source for cleaning and drinking in some areas. Wildlife disappeared from the Thames and the river died. The Prime Minister at the time, Benjamin Disraeli, described the Thames as ‘a Stygian pool reeking with ineffable and unbearable horror’ (Disraeli, (1858)). By the summer of 1858, the situation had become unbearable and the windows of the Houses of Parliament had to be protected by curtains soaked in chlorine to keep out the smell. This situation became known as The Great Stink and it finally prompted The Metropolitan Board of Works and their engineer Joseph Bazalgette to construct new sewers that diverted the effluent downriver to outfalls at Beckton and Crossness.

The Silent Highwayman

Bill took whatever employment he could to support his family. Earlier in his married life he had briefly worked as an agricultural labourer back in his native Lincolnshire, but now that he was living permanently in London, he needed an alternative source of income if he couldn't find work on a ship. He became one of the thousands who worked casually in the docks.

On 14th July 1858, Bill's wife, Charlotte, gave birth to another baby daughter. She was baptised with the name Harriet at St Mary's, Cable Street, on 15th August 1858. At the time of the baptism, Bill and his family were living at 31 James Place, Ratcliff. James Place was situated between Cable Street and the railway line and was book-ended by Devonport Street in the west and Stepney Causeway in the east. It was a narrow street, just 7 feet separated the houses running along its southern side from a high brick wall on the northern side. It was reached by descending several steps down from the streets at each end and was a dark, dank and unhealthy place. It was probably these conditions which lead to the death of baby Harriet in the autumn of that year.

The situation for the casual dock labourer grew especially desperate in January 1861. London was in the grip of freezing winter weather and the ships were unable to dock. There was no work and many families went hungry. Many dock labourers were involved in bread riots and rampaged along Commercial Road smashing windows and stealing food.

According to the 1861 census they were still living at 31 James Place in spite of the awful conditions.  Bill was a dock labourer and Charlotte was still making parasols. Their two surviving children, William and Ellen, were both attending school.

Cholera returned to London in the summer of 1866. The Times newspaper of 21^st July 1866 reported:

Thirteen cases have been admitted into the London Hospital, and five deaths have occurred there this week, and other patients are now in a precarious state. Several deaths from cholera have taken place in the neighbourhood of the hospital. In accordance with the provisions advocated in the short article which we lately published on cholera hospitals a spacious ward has been set aside for these cases. It is already nearly full.

On 25^th July The Times further reported:

In all London last week there were 346 deaths from cholera and 221 from diarrhea…It was evident, therefore, he added that cholera of a fatal type was prevalent in London, and as far as his observations on it had gone, especially in the London Hospital, where many cases had been treated, it was almost entirely among the poor, and the occupants of the worst classes of houses, where sanitary regulations had been neglected.

Bill fell ill at the end on the month and his symptoms were severe enough for him to be transferred to the London Hospital in Whitechapel. The vomiting and diarrhea would have resulted in chronic dehydration and in spite of medical intervention, he died on 31^st July. The cause of his death was certified as Cholera.

William Sherwood death certificate

At the time London was in the grip of the worst Cholera outbreak since 1854. The Times newspaper contained the following in an article on 1^st August:

…The excess of deaths was caused entirely by cholera and diarrhea. 904 deaths by cholera,349 by diarrhea were registered in the week making the aggregate 1253 deaths…It is a peculiarity of the case that the greater part of this slaughter in seven days of 1253 people of all ages took place within a limited portion of the London area. 924 of the deaths, 811 by cholera and 113 by diarrhea, were registered in the six districts of Bethnal Green, Whitechapel, St George-in-the-East, Stepney, Mile End Old Town and Poplar (including Bow), among about a seventh part of the population of London and on about one fourteenth of its area. The attack extends all along the north side of the Thames, from the River Lea and the Isle of Dogs to the Tower of London. Limehouse Basin and the Regent’s Canal are the central line of the attack, which stretches as far north as Victoria Park. This is essentially the port of London, inhabited by its maritime population. The canals and the basin are full of foul water, and are apparently connected with the Limehouse Cut, Hackney Cut and the River Lea. The East London Waterworks Canal draws its supply from the river at Lea Bridge, where there is a reservoir, and runs for a couple of miles by the side of Hackney cut down to its other reservoirs north of Bow and near the Lea. The present cholera field derives its water from these works….The people are falling ill every hour; you see them of all ages, children and adults, lying about their beds  like people under the influence of a deadly poison, some acutely suffering, nearly all conscious of their fate and of all that is going on around them…Several wards of the London Hospital are full of patients…The people themselves are the most patient; most willing to help each other, the women always in front , and none shrinking from danger.  There is no desertion of children, husbands, wives, fathers or mothers from fear.

It must have been terrifying not only for Bill and his family, but also for the countless others whose lives were affected by the outbreak. The source of the outbreak was contaminated drinking water supplied from the River Lea by the East London Water Company. There were stories at the time of people’s pipes being blocked by dead eels and brown-coloured drinking water.  At a time when the rest of London’s sanitation had started to improve, the outbreak was a huge scandal. The water company was found to be responsible and has the blood of thousands of East Enders like William Sherwood on its hands.

Bill’s son, William Francis, was just 15 at the time and the loss of his father would have been a massive shock, but with the only other source of family income being derived from his mum’s parasol making, it was imperative that he stayed strong. He was the man of the house now and had to earn a living not only for himself but also for his sister, Ellen, and his mum. There is no evidence of them having entered the local workhouse in the aftermath of his father’s death and this suggests they managed to scrape together enough money to provide a roof over their heads and food on the table.

10 years after his father’s death, William Francis lost his mother as well. Charlotte died of bronchitis at her home in 42 London Street on 11^th June 1876. She was just 49 at the time and William’s sister, Ellen, had been present at her death.

By this time, William Francis had a girlfriend. Kate Matthews was the daughter of a master butcher who had a shop in Bow Common Lane, Mile End. The relationship had progressed to the extent that she had fallen pregnant and they now had to get married. The wedding took place at St James’s the Great parish church in Bethnal Green on 19^th June 1876. At that time Bill was employed as a porter. Just a few weeks later they had a daughter whom they christened Kate Elizabeth Sherwood.

Two years after the birth of young Kate, they had another baby. This time it was a boy and they christened him William Edward Sherwood. He was joined two years after that by a second daughter. Charlotte Emily Sherwood was born on 23^rd June 1880 at 3 Medland Street, Ratcliff, which was a common lodging house.

 

Ratcliff 1890s vs present day

Soon after Charlotte’s birth the family moved to 1 The Orchard, Ratcliff. William Francis was now working as a “coal tank filler”. Coal tanks were small black steam locomotives that were initially used for freight work over short distances. They were probably being used in the docks at the time.

The census taken during the following year shows they were still living at 1 The Orchard. William was described as a “general labourer” and was living at the address with his wife and their three children.

On 16^th May 1883 William and Kate had another daughter named Martha. She was baptised on 1^st June at St James’s Church in Ratcliff. By the time of Martha’s arrival into the world, the family had moved to 12 London Street. Unfortunately the joy surrounding the birth was short-lived as Martha developed water on the brain. She died at Shadwell Children’s Hospital on 12^th December 1883 aged just 6 months.

Extract from Charles Booth Survey Map

In the years that followed, Charles Booth, who later founded the Salvation Army, conducted a survey of London. He walked the streets taking copious notes and eventually produced a map that classified their social class and poverty. The Booth survey describes Medland Street as being populated by “sailor’s widows” and “loose women”. Nearby London Street is described as “very rough” and the children were “booted, but ragged”. The streets were indicated on the map as dark blue and black respectively. Dark blue was described as “Very poor, casual, chronic want”. Black was described as “Lowest class, vicious, semi criminal”. (Booth, 1889-1899)

Booth’s survey paints a grim picture of the living conditions in the area. At the time the air would have been thick with coal smoke from industry and their lodgings damp. Inevitably, all this took its toll on William’s health. Like his mother, he caught bronchitis and died at his home, 10 London Street, on 19^th April 1888 aged just 37. and was laid to rest at the City of London and Tower Hamlets Cemetery on 29^th April 1888. At the time of his death he was working as a dock labourer and once again would have had to experience the scrum of the “call on” in order to earn the privilege of a day’s work in the docks that would have involved working in all weathers. He lived a lived a hard life and died young even by Victorian standards. The average life expectancy for men at the time was around 45.