Lesser known sisters

Those familiar with any aspect of the School’s history will also be familiar with the names Eliza Waterman Jarwood and Bertha Jane Dean, long-serving matron and revered Headteacher respectively.

Eliza Jarwood Waterman and Bertha Jane Dean

Their lives, greatly dominated by their time at the School, are well recorded. But what is less well known is that both had sisters who were also pupils at the School. Despite the ruling about no sisters being allowed, this rule waxed and waned over the years and there are many instances of sisters amongst the School population. Time to try and bring these particular lesser-known sisters out of the shadows. One has to use the verb ‘try’ as, in the case of Sarah Jarwood, so little is known that she almost becomes a figment of imagination.

Eliza and Sarah were daughters of John Jarwood (often written as Jerwood), a master mariner, and his wife Nancy Waterman. John died in 1818 – date unknown but his will of 1815 was proved in August 1818 so his death must have occurred by then. Furthermore, his youngest child was born in February 1819 so the death cannot have been earlier than May 1818. John must have died between May and August of 1818. By this will, he appointed his wife Nancy as his sole executrix.

Nancy was originally from Nantucket, Massachusetts so it seems possible that John and Nancy met in Nantucket when John landed there from an Atlantic crossing. Nantucket was particularly renowned for whale oil trade but whether this was the trade the ship John captained is an unknown element.

The couple were married in 1801 in Nantucket, a fact which was later to cause a problem with the admission of Eliza to the School. John’s death left Nancy unsupported and pregnant with their fifth child. Furthermore, the family were living in Cherry Garden Street, Bermondsey so Nancy was on the other side of a large ocean from her own family support. As John had been a member of the Royal Naval Lodge, his children became eligible for admission to the School. However, the documentation required for a petition included a marriage certificate of the parents and, because the marriage had taken place in America, this was not available. Nancy had to provide other ‘proof’ that she and John had indeed been married, which proof included a sworn statement by another Nantuckian, also married to an Englishman and living in Bermondsey. It would appear the Atlantic trade was not just in oil but in American brides! This sufficed and Eliza was duly admitted on 21 Oct 1819.

Sarah was the fourth child of the Jarwoods, born on 16 April 1817 and baptised in May at St Mary’s, Rotherhithe.

https://www.familysearch.org/en/wiki/Rotherhithe_St_Mary,_Surrey_Genealogy

There is no indication that her petition encountered the same difficulties as Eliza’s had so presumably, having proved the marriage to be valid once, it was not necessary to prove it again. Sarah was admitted on 19 April 1827 by which point her older sister had already been apprenticed to the School and embarked on her long career. Although they were both at the School at the same time, they were not pupils at the same time. In 1832 Sarah left, delivered to her mother. What she did then is not recorded. However, in the 1841 census at the School, there is a Sarah Jarwood or Yarwood listed of approximately the right age which may well have been the younger sister of Eliza. Unfortunately, there is no further trace of her in any census returns. Upon Eliza’s death in 1886, Sarah is given as a spinster and sole executrix with an address in South Norwood (Whitehorse Lane). This would imply that she was alive at this time but she is not found in any census returns even close to this date. This is unlikely to mean that she avoided registration but that her name may have been misrecorded or badly written making it impossible to locate her. Jarwood, Yarwood, Jerwood? Or something else similar but not the same? This is doubly unfortunate as later returns gave other details such as occupation where relevant. It seems possible that hers is the death recorded in Croydon in 1893 although the birth year is given as 1815 but this is all ifs and buts and maybes. Lesser known indeed.

Let us turn now to the Dean family. Bertha and Dorothy Dean were two of the eight children of William and Matilda Dean. The family lived in Chichester where William was a music seller and lay vicar.

His death meant that Matilda had to take over the business as well as be head of the family.

Bertha was admitted to the School in 1887 and from that day forward is always recorded in census returns for the School. Dorothy, five years younger than Bertha, was with her mother in the 1891, 1901 and 1911 census and, bar some fleeting school records, we might not know she had been a pupil. In 1894, she played the piano on Prize Day as part of Trio, the music being ‘Rondo Burlesco’. Trio was a long standing School tradition where eight pianos were played each by three girls at the same time. It was a tradition maintained into the 21^st century but, regrettably, no longer a part of the Prize Day concert.

This image is from 1948 so considerably after Dorothy’s time

.Dorothy was due to leave in June 1899 and in that year she not only became Silver Medallist but also was confirmed at St Mary’s Battersea. She was retained as a pupil teacher in the junior school, a sort of apprenticeship scheme for any girls showing an inclination towards teaching. In 1900, Dorothy left to take up a daily post in Chichester and in the 1901 and 1911 census returns she is recorded as being a private governess whilst living in North St, Chichester.

In 1914, the day after World War One was declared (Aug 4^th), she was married at St Paul’s Chichester.

Her bridegroom was at the time a serving officer in the Indian Medical Service (commissioned into the IMS in 1908) and he was recalled to duty the next day. According to the Cambridge Alumni, he served in Aden and Palestine. A graduate of Christ’s, he gained a 1^st class degree in Natural Sciences and was Surgeon-Naturalist to the Marine Survey of India. Later he described himself as zoologist, oceanographer and research scientist. His first positions in India were as medical officer with the 67th and 84th Punjabi Regiments before working as a malaria officer in the Sialkote Brigade.

Dorothy may have already visited India before she was married as Massonica 1912 records her address as Hampton, Conoor, Nilgiris, Southern India. However, this was then crossed through without further explanation and in 1914 she was recorded as being governess to a private family in Luton. It is possible that she had been a private governess in India and that this is where she met her future husband although this has to remain firmly in Speculationland. After her marriage, Dorothy must have gone [back] to India as the couple’s first daughter was born in Coonoor in 1916 with a second daughter in 1919 (also in Coonoor). By this time, Dorothy’s sister Bertha had become head teacher of a girls’ school in London which must have seemed a long way away.

It is interesting to note at this juncture, as a by the bye, that the great-aunt of Robert Beresford Seymour Sewell (Dorothy’s husband) had been a pioneer in girls’ education. Elizabeth Missing Sewell (1815-1906) ‘convinced that middle-class girls needed a better education’ founded Ventnor St Boniface School. ‘Its many years of prosperity were gradually curbed by the high schools that came into being in 1872’ (from Wikipedia). She defined her methods of education in Principles of Education, drawn from Nature and Revelation, and applied to Female Education in the Upper Classes (1865) – they liked long titles then.

Leaping forward to the next generation, Dorothy’s daughter Elizabeth went to Cambridge, graduating in 1942. She then worked for the Ministry of Education until the end of the war whereupon she returned to Cambridge for her PhD. She became a professor and held several fellowships in America where she became a US citizen in 1973. She ‘often wrote about the connections between science and literature’ (from Wikipedia).

Before his retirement in 1935, Dorothy’s husband was Leader of the John Murray expedition, 1933-4 which travelled through the Red Sea, the Gulf of Aden, the north-western Indian Ocean and the Gulf of Oman collecting data and material which formed the basis of a long series of reports published by the British Museum (Natural History) over a period of more than 30 years. The Indian Ocean at the time was the least studied oceanic area on earth, having been entirely missed or visited only briefly by ail of the major oceanographic expeditions. (Extracted from Oceanologica Acta 1984 – vol. 7 – N” 1)

Sadly, by this time, Dorothy had died.

It is an indication of her shadowy existence that we not only know so little about her personally (although we know considerably more about other members of her family) but that her probate has more about her husband than herself.

Whilst Dorothy Sewell nee Dean and Sarah Jarwood must both have had personal histories, they remain as the lesser known sisters of women known well to the School’s history.

Every Ten Years

This post is about censuses. Censusses? Censusii? One census and then another one … Censuses is correct but just feels wrong. It is rather like the story of the zookeeper who wanted a pair of mongooses but thought that the spelling didn’t look right. So he put mongeese and then crossed that out as well. Finally, he hit on the solution. He asked for one mongoose and put ‘PS, please send a second one as well.’

Anyway, census day on March 21 2021 (except in Scotland) was the date on which to base one’s most recent census return and no doubt the census gnomes are busy at work crunching the data as you read this. The detailed answers will be kept inaccessible for 100 years and possibly in 2122, family historians will be eagerly awaiting the Great Reveal just as they are currently awaiting the 1921 census which will be made public in 2022.

The word census is from the Latin censere – to assess. Historically, they have been a means of assessing a population. One of the most well-known is that recorded in the Bible –

‘In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.’ (Luke 2:1)

The result of this was a birth in a stable. Reasons for counting the population include taxation, assessing necessary supplies in the event of a siege or how many men could be called up to fight. In Britain, in 1086 a national survey was carried out which we now call the Domesday Book.

https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/domesday/discover-domesday/

A national census in Britain was proposed in the 18^th century primarily because of concern that the population was decreasing. As with all these things, there was argument and counter-argument for perhaps half a century before finally landing on a time where there were more in favour than against. Even so it had to be backed by parliamentary act. It has been taken every decade since 1801 but, in case you are wondering where the details from 1801 – 1831 are, you haven’t missed them: they don’t exist. Yes, the census took place. Yes, the information was applied for use nationally. But the returns were destroyed, by government order, in 1904 leaving just the abstracts. It was not until the 1841 census that individual information was deemed of value. Each subsequent census has been just that bit more detailed – and, per se, useful for tracing Great Aunty Gertrude-Millicent-Maud and placing her in the family tree – even though this was not the original purpose.

In fact quite possibly individuals have made greater use of the census other than for the purpose intended than any government. Looking at the School through the various censuses gives a different aspect to the history. This post concentrates on 1841 to 1881.

For the 1841 census, the School was in St George’s, Southwark.

 1841 census

 54 pupils are recorded as being present on the night of June 6th. Frances Crook, the Matron, is apparently 50 years old – completely wrong or she would have been 11 when she became the Matron in 1802. Adult ages were rounded down but as one enumerator commented ‘You’ll find the girls ‘mysterious ages’ ‘[i]. The enumerators were not supposed to comment but many did, including the one who wrote ‘this is the first and last census I shall do.’ Clearly, he had not found it a happy experience!

There was one servant at the School; one matron and an assistant; two teachers (both young so more like pupil teachers); one school ‘lady’ acting as governess. Of these, two were sisters (Sarah and Eliza Jarwood, both of whom had been pupils) and one was possibly the sister of a former pupil who had herself twice been employed by the School. The ‘possibly’ is because the ages don’t match but then we have already seen that these were massaged. Elizabeth Jack, former pupil, became assistant matron in 1807, then left to marry but returned to fill a gap when the writing master had been sacked for allowing his son to deputise for him instead of carrying out his duties. Harriet Jack may have been Elizabeth’s sister, born in 1787 despite the age given in the census, or it may be coincidence. Given the School’s propensity for employing former pupils (and perhaps also relatives of them), the inclination is that Harriet was the sister of Elizabeth but it cannot be proven.

Ten years later and the staff listed in 1841 are all still there but now we know where they were born. (Frances Crook, incidentally, was still fibbing about her age: she has added 10 years – correct arithmetically – but was still a long way shy of the truth.)

Frances Crook from the portrait in the School’s Dining Hall.

55 girls are listed of whom Jane Puttock is the youngest at 8 years old. Sadly, she didn’t make it to the age of 9 as she died later in 1851.

1851 census

In 1851, the School was about to move premises because the lease on the existing property was expiring and it seemed easier to start again elsewhere with a new building. In 1852, after a grand opening ceremony, the School moved to Battersea, usually referred to in School annals as Clapham Junction to everlasting confusion.

By 1861, the pupil count has become 79 so an exponential increase. Jackson’s Oxford Journal of May 1859 indicates that there ‘are about 70 in number’ so is roughly within the ball park.  

1861 census

Given the School’s traditional Drill, it is interesting to see that the next door neighbour is a Drill Instructor for the Volunteers!

There are 2 pupil teachers, 3 adult staff (Matron, Sch Mistress, Asst Mistress) and four servants including a married couple where he was the gardener. They would have been provided with a small cottage in the grounds. The head servant is the same person listed since 1841 – Martha Marshall from Rayleigh, Essex. Frances Crook had died in 1854 at which point it had been revealed that she was actually 78! It means that her age declaration of 50 in 1841 was rounded down by some 15 years.

Amongst the girls are 5 sets of sisters, and four others whose sisters had been pupils previously, indicating that, at this time, the ruling about not admitting more than one daughter of a family was being ignored. The adherence to this rule came and went, presumably dependent on whether ‘those at the top’ were sticklers for the rules or partial to some judicious bending of same.

1871 census

By 1871, the School is listed as the Royal Masonic Institution for Girls (RMIG) and the numbers have leapt up again to 103 with 5 teaching staff and four pupil teachers. There are five servants including the long-serving Martha Marshall, now listed as cook. The gardener and his wife are still there and they are joined by two sisters, Elizabeth and Ellen Kite, as kitchen maid and nursemaid. There are again 5 sets of sisters but proportionately this represents a reduction as the school roll has increased. Six girls had been born overseas (South Africa, America, Italy, Australia, India, and Turkey), all described as British subjects or born in the British Empire.

The 1881 census, taken on April 3^rd, lists 16 house servants – ranging from two cooks to five laundry maids. A gardener and his wife are listed, presumably occupying the same cottage, but not the same couple as in 1861 and 1871.  Martha Marshall, at the school since at least 1841, had died, her burial being on 30 Mar 1874 at St Mary’s, Battersea.

Burial record for Martha Marshall

 

1881 census

There are now 17 school mistresses, in age from 70 to 16. The School varied in its distinction of pastoral and academic staff, sometimes lumping them all in together, sometimes separating them into matron’s staff and school mistresses. In 1881 the census did not distinguish them one from another, listing them all as School Mistress even though five of them are Pupil Teachers aged 16. Some of these went on to become ‘proper’ teachers, either at the School or elsewhere. At the time there was little in the way of formal teacher training and a practitioner learned at the chalk face, so to speak. Or discovered that teaching was not for them and moved into other roles.

The School roll had leapt upwards again to 236 and as all entries were handwritten, someone’s hand – and head – must have ached getting all the information down accurately. Or not, because all census returns contain errors and trying to interpret what is written from information recorded elsewhere has been the historian’s lot ever since.

The School census returns of 1841-1881 provide not just a snapshot of who was in the buildings on census night but a means of analysing the history by reading across the grain – i.e. reading meaning that was not necessarily intended but which gives a fascinating insight into the past by capturing one small moment in time. As such they are worth their weight in gold, something that is unlikely to have been anticipated by those who instigated them.

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[i] Making Use of the Census – Susan Lumas 1993

The Redoubtable Miss D

A significant chunk of the nineteenth century history of the School came under the leadership of Miss Sarah Louisa Davis. Appointed in 1862 and retiring in 1896, she led the School for 34 years. In her stature as a Head Governess, it is hard to comprehend that when appointed she was barely 21 years of age. At a time when there was little formal training for teachers and most of the teaching staff (at the School and indeed elsewhere) learned their craft at the chalk-face, so to speak, Sarah Louisa Davis was the nearest to a professional appointment for several decades. Indeed, The Morning Post in 1894 reported these comments from the Anniversary Festival:

From the inception of the School, the education of the girls was in the care of the Matron and this was deemed to be sufficient.

Original advertisement for the matron in the classified ads section of World on Oct 10th 1788

As the numbers on roll increased, the matron was assisted by pupil teachers but as they would have been only 15 years old, their experience of the world was somewhat limited. However, girls’ education was beginning to develop. In 1847, Queen’s College ‘became a pioneer in the field of women’s education and emancipation.’ (Wikipedia) At a similar time, moves to extend the education of RMIG girls by introducing French and Music were initially rejected (1848) but it was the beginning of the beginning of educational improvement. Its direct descendant, as it were, was the appointment of Miss Davis who, almost immediately introduced French and drawing classes.

Time to introduce a more personal note into our biography of Miss D. She was born in Hackney, in the rather delightfully named Paradise Fields, the middle of three daughters born to James and Sarah Jane Davis. Her first public appearance was the 1841 census where she is recorded as an unnamed baby aged 2 weeks. This would give her a birthdate of about May 24^th as the census took place on June 6^th. Her father was a schoolmaster, and if ever it were a case of ‘being in the genes’, it is with this family. Not only was father a schoolmaster but daughters No 1 and No 2 both became Headmistresses. The career of daughter No 3 is unknown as she ‘disappears’ for over 70 years after the 1861 census, apart from a brief reference in 1876 at her son’s baptism – in Russia!  Why she was there we may never know but it must certainly have introduced an air of exoticism into the family.

In 1851, Sarah Louisa and Esther are pupils in Hackney.

‘The New Gravel Pit Hackney Chapel School, founded in the 1790s, was considered highly benevolent and caring by the local community in its dealings with its pupils…’

https://www.layersoflondon.org/map?record=9694

By 1861, Sarah was an assistant mistress at

1861 census title page

Founded in 1813, it operated on very similar principles to RMIG. Its mission was ‘to afford maintenance, instruction and clothing to destitute orphans of both sexes, and to put them out in situations where they may have the prospect of an honest livelihood’ https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/outline-of-the-london-orphan-asylum.

So her move to the Royal Masonic Institute for Girls the following year would been a geographical shift but a very familiar situation. It is not known how she was selected for her new role. It is possible she was recommended by the Headmaster of the Asylum as Miss Davis, in her turn, recommended many pupils for advancement. But a Head Governess she became and was catapulted into senior leadership above the Matron (Eliza Waterman Jarwood, some 30 years her senior) and the two assistant mistresses, Frances Souter (b 1833) and Mary Ann Kernot (b 1837). Frances is a governess in another London school in 1881, so Sarah Louisa’s appointment may well have arisen from a vacancy when Miss Souter moved on.

Sarah Louisa Davis

This official portrait of Miss Davis is undated but is surely a portrait of a woman in her prime and could perhaps be from about 1880. However, given her elevated status at the age of 21, it is hard to be exact about what her prime might be.

A group photo taken in 1886 shows the teaching staff of that time.

As is to be expected, the Head Governess is at the centre of the group.

Of greater insight into Miss Davis herself are her own words as she wrote a monthly report for the school governorship and we can ‘hear’ her voice in what she wrote.  Her summaries of the girls in her care are sometimes acerbic: she clearly did not suffer fools lightly, as the saying goes.

[The] “youngest pupil teacher, is leaving at Christmas, an uncle & aunt having offered to provide for her entirely; she has been somewhat unsettled and Miss Davis does not regret parting with her” (1887)

Two years later she wrote of another pupil teacher, Ruth, who had failed an exam she was expected to pass: “With proper application and care on her part it would not have happened as she passed last year and this time was expected to take honours”.  Miss Davis expressed “her great disappointment in the girl as she was clearly capable of the work and ought to have at least achieved a pass.” The comments suggest that the recalcitrant girl had probably had a very uncomfortable interview with Miss D as she was to be put on “probation as a pupil teacher and if she does not prove an energetic and intelligent teacher, she must leave.”

Then to ram the point home even more, Miss D proceeds to ask the Governors if they would provide as a reward a little treat for those who pass.

“They are girls who keep close to study [one can almost hear the unspoken words ‘unlike Ruth’] and … Miss Davis feels they deserve some reward.”

Of another pupil, Miss Davis did not mince her words at all.

[She] “is a girl of power & influence but unfortunately not of a nature to be of benefit to those with whom she associates. Miss Davis cannot say that she has at all been a good girl, she has always been difficult to manage, evincing a most spiteful & trying temper and instead of improving as an older girl has been lately most independent about observing the rules of the school.”

But lest we think that Miss D had just got out of bed on the wrong side the day she wrote that, the pupil of whom she was writing remained somewhat fiery all her life it would seem. In 1928, for example, she appeared in court on a libel case the upshot of which was that the judge ordered her retained in custody for two weeks as she had caused a grievance and “You have not expressed to me one word of real regret or apology for your conduct”.

At the age of 60, she had another court appearance for ‘stealing’ a parcel from a car because

Perhaps we might judge Miss D’s assessment of her rather unruly pupil a little more kindly after this!

Miss Davis’ tenure as Head Governess was only occasionally interrupted by absence. In 1883, she had an absence of six months. Such was the respect she had earned from the School governorship that £50 was granted to her in in October 1883 ‘partly to reimburse her for the heavy medical expenses incurred by her late severe illness.’ Although she clearly recovered enough to return to post with as much vigour as ever, there were other briefer absences following this, known only when her deputy signed the monthly reports. In 1895, The Graphic, an illustrated newspaper, was given access to the School and subsequently published some images amongst which was a view of Miss Davis seated in her sitting room.

Here she is shown deep in thought with her feet on a little footstool. What she was thinking about is of course unknown but it should be noted that the following year she advised the governors that she wished to retire, a resignation they were reluctant to accept but one which, perforce, they must. This is not just colourful interpretation. The Cheltenham Chronicle of 11th July 1896 carried the following item:

In 1896, Miss Davis’ salary is recorded as being £225 pa which means that she retired on full pay. If ever there was a marker of the respect she had earned it was this.

In 1901, the census records her living with her older sister Esther, also a retired Headmistress, at 52 St James Rd, Tunbridge Wells.

This image is not actually No 52 as that property on Google Earth Street view is obscured by a large hedge in front of it. However, all the houses in that vicinity appear to be the same style so this view of a property further down the street must suffice.

In 1907 news came that Sarah Louisa Davis had died, her probate being granted to her sister who herself died the following year. Miss Davis’ funeral took place at the local church but this does not have a graveyard so it is unknown where she is buried.

Kent & Sussex Courier 08 February 1907

 

Miss Davis’ legacy to the School was manifold. By the time of her death, two other Head Governesses had come and gone but by 1911, another was waiting in the wings (Bertha Jane Dean) who would become in her turn as esteemed as the redoubtable Miss Davis.

By Jeeves, it’s Wooster (playing Cupid!)

It is unlikely that many girls’ schools include matchmaking in their curriculum but the number of former pupils of RMSG who married a schoolfriend’s brother is legion. Perhaps the first of these was Patience Smith who later married the brother of Elizabeth Wooster. Both girls arrived at the School on October 21^st 1819, two of the five pupils admitted at that time. (Another was the redoubtable Eliza Waterman Jarwood who was written about in the Matron posts.) Although Elizabeth was born in Gateshead in 1810 and Patience in London in 1809 in fact only a month separated their birthdates and when admitted to the School both had London addresses. Patience resided at 13 Holywell St, Shoreditch and Elizabeth at 5 Red Lion Court, Charterhouse Lane. 13 Holywell St still exists today (image from Google Earth) and is currently occupied by Biscuit Filmworks founded in 2000.

Holywell St and modern map of same

Image from Google Earth and map from http://www.londontown.com/LondonStreets/holywell_row_c98.html

Charterhouse Lane no longer exists although part of it is now Charterhouse Street (‘Charterhouse Square area: Charterhouse Street and other streets‘, in Survey of London: Volume 46, South and East Clerkenwell, ed. Philip Temple (London, 2008), pp. 265-279. British History Online http://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-london/vol46/pp265-279 [accessed 24 December 2016].) Red Lion Court has long since gone but was probably the one described as: ’East out of Shoe Lane at No.42, in Farringdon Ward Without {Lockie, 1816-Elmes, 1831)’ although there were several Red Lion Courts in London. In 1845, Thomas Groutage, a baker, is given in a court record as residing at No 1 Little Red Lion Court Charter House Lane, Middlesex which suggests it was still in existence then.

Contemporary map showing Red Lion Court

Patience’s father was (helpfully for research!) called John Smith; however, because he was a Freemason, it is more possible to pin him down and it seems likely to be one of two (although they could in fact be the same person), a member of the Lodge of Peace and Harmony. In one record he is given as a victualler of Long Alley, Moorfields, born in 1757. In another record, he is given as a waiter of White Horse, 32 Friday Street, perhaps not coincidentally a meeting place for the Lodge of Peace & Harmony.

Image cropped from Google Earth

Given that the presiding rule for admission to the School was indigence, it is feasible that the victualler had become the waiter as a downturn in his prospects. The White Horse survived until 1931 before being demolished. An application for building works there dated 1904 [‘Proposed rebuilding. Ground floor, basement, first-fourth floor plans, elevations to Friday Street.’] suggests that it was a building of a fair size.

Long Alley may have become Appold St today but later in Patience’s life, her address was given as Long Lane, Aldersgate which could be the same place.

Patience was baptised at St Leonards, Shoreditch on 26 December 1809 at 21 days old.

Images of St Leonards

Image of church dated July 4th, 1816 https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7973146

Modern image St Leonard’s Church, Shoreditch High Street, Hackney, London. 28 January 2006. Photographer: Fin Fahey.

We know the baptismal date of Elizabeth (11 July 1810) but not the church in Gateshead (not given in record). Her parents, John & Esther, had been married at St Magnus the Martyr in London and the combination of references [Gateshead & London] suggest that the family moved to and from the two places although this is not certain. It would certainly have been a journey and a half at that time!

Of the girls’ days at the School, we know nothing except to say that they would have resided there for the duration of their schooling (holidays were then unheard of) until they came of age to leave. In the case of Patience, this was December 23^rd 1824 when she was apprenticed to William Henry White. Elizabeth stayed another month before leaving on January 20^th 1825 when she was ‘returned to her mother’. The phrase suggests that her father had died and this may have been the reason for her admission to the School in the first place.

For how long Patience would have been apprenticed is uncertain although the usual period was four years. She would probably have been a domestic servant rather than learning a trade of any kind. In 1831, she married Jeremiah Challenger Wooster, a widower and brother of her schoolfriend. This suggests that the girls had remained friends after their schooldays and, indeed, Elizabeth is a witness to Patience’s marriage at ‘St Leonard Foster Lane’. Actually, this church did not physically exist as it had been destroyed in the Great Fire and not rebuilt. However the parish united with Christ Church, Greyfriars Newgate Street so this is the actual building in which the wedding took place albeit the record is still given as St Leonard’s.

St Leonard Foster Lane

Image on Wikipedia taken from March 22, 1845 issue of The Illustrated London News. Copyright expired.

Image of St leonards from http://openbuildings.com/buildings/st-leonard-foster-lane-profile-17706

A little over a year later, 3 November 1832 at St Botolph Bishopsgate, Elizabeth married Charles Helme.

Double image of St Botolph

Painting by Alexander Poole Moore, 1796 http://www.artvalue.com/auctionresult–moore-alexander-poole-act-1778-st-botolph-s-bishopsgate-londo-999569.htm

Image William Pearson, Old Houses on the North West Corner of the Minories and Aldgate. 1810. British Museum, Binyon 22, Crace XXIII.92. © Trustees of the British Museum. Used on https://www.londonlives.org/static/StBotolphAldgate.jsp

The church stood outside the medieval city walls, near the Bishop’s Gate, and its title is often written as ‘St Botolph’s without Bishopsgate’ to show that it was outside the jurisdiction of the City. The church was founded circa 1200 but the building shown dates from 1725.

Both brides continued to live in London and are found there in the 1851 census although Patience and Jeremiah had moved to Cambridgeshire by 1861. In 1841, Jeremiah (then a cabinet maker) clearly indicated where he lived in a court case of 1^st February 1841:

https://www.oldbaileyonline.org/images.jsp?doc=184102010039

The 1841 census then gives him as J C Wooster (but, oddly, with a wife Sarah!) as a cabinet maker in Red Lion Yard. Given the two pieces of information, it seems likely to be the right family although there are discrepancies that are unexplained.

In 1851, Patience Wooster was still in Long Lane, Aldersgate although Jeremiah, by then a Baptist minister, was at the Manor House in Swavesey. Clearly Patience was continuing to run the business in London as there were eight apprentices there in 1851. Unfortunately, one of these apprentices was ‘a bad lot’ and he was later convicted of stealing writing desks from the business. Patience was a witness in the case. In her testimony we learn that as well as residing on the premises there was also a shop in which Patience served the customers: “I generally serve in the shop” (https://www.oldbaileyonline.org). Clearly as well as creating writing desks, the Woosters were also selling them from the premises. Nor was this the first time the Woosters had had problems with an apprentice stealing from them. Charles Buckingham, aged 17, was found guilty in 1844 of stealing from his master, for which he received two month’s imprisonment.

The writing desks they were manufacturing were not like we might imagine of a writing desk today – a piece of freestanding furniture – but a more portable unit which would be placed on a small table to use and which had sections to store inks, pens and paper and often a lid that acted as a writing surface.

Images of writing desks

Long Lane is a literal description of a street which goes from Aldersgate (A1) to Farringdon St. The map (Google Earth) shows its proximity to Charterhouse St. [The business labelled Ask for Janice, in case you were wondering, is a restaurant!] Today the original Georgian buildings are mostly above commercial premises.

Google Earth map of Long Lane today

Jeremiah and Patience were together in Swavesey, Cambs in 1861. The address was given as High St but later as Middle Watch. In fact one becomes the other so it is possible that it was always the same address. The issue is further clouded by the fact that it would appear that Swavesey Baptists were a schismatic group, branching off and reforming so it is unclear whether Jeremiah was minister of the Bethel Chapel or with the Particular Baptist movement or the Baptist Unitarian. There were two Baptist Chapels and both were in Middle Watch!

Middle Watch from Google Earth street view

The image above shows the type of property likely to have been there at the time. Much of the area is now more modern houses with a few scattered older properties of which this is one. Jeremiah died in 1872 but Patience continued to live in Swavesey for the rest of her life. She died in 1893.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, remained in London. In 1851, the census places her at 49 Aldersgate St – this is now very short and blends into St Martin le Grand; it has no old properties and even the London City Presbyterian Church there is post war. She was still at the same address in 1861 but after her husband died in 1866, she went to live with her daughter at 8 St Paul’s Place, St Paul’s Rd, Canonbury where she appears in the 1871 census.

8 St Paul’s Place from Google Earth street view

She died on 16 March 1879, her probate recording that she was late of St Paul’s Place but that she had died at 61 Albion Rd, Stoke Newington. Possibly this was the residence of another of her children.

61 Albion Rd from Google Earth street view

Thus a fifty year friendship came to a natural end: two little schoolgirls, sisters in law and both then widows, whose lives were entwined from at least 1819, the one playing cupid for the other. Perhaps the motto of Swavesey village is a fitting descriptor of their relationship: Steadfast in Work and Play.

Long Service

Recently tributes have been paid to one of the School’s long-serving housemistresses who had died aged 90. But she was by no means the first member of staff to have a long working association with the School. The School’s history is littered with examples of them. This particular lady put in 32 years (and then continued her association post-retirement) which seems even more impressive when you consider she was in her forties when she began at the School.

Coming in at 33 years, however, we need to go back to the nineteenth century with the first appointed Head Governess in 1862, Sarah Louisa Davis, who informed the governing body in 1895 that she wished to retire. They were most reluctant to accept her wishes but awarded her a pension that equalled her salary at the time. How glorious to retire on full pay!

Eliza W Jarwood & Sarah L Davis

In office during Miss Davis’ tenure was the Matron Eliza Waterman Jarwood. Her length of service is trickier to calculate because she had been a former pupil who became a member of staff. Many of the staff then were former pupils. Indeed in 1934, when the School moved to its current site, all the staff barring one had been former pupils. Miss Davis was one of the exceptions in being an external appointment. In one sense, Eliza’s length of service totalled 68 years because she arrived as a little girl of 9 and never left. She died in 1886, still in post.

The focus of this posting, however, is an earlier Matron who, like Miss Davis, was an external appointee. The above mentioned Eliza served under both matrons. Frances Crook was appointed as Assistant Matron in 1802. This may – or may not! – have resulted in the Great Rebellion as she did seem to be a fairly tough cookie whereas the Matron at the time was perhaps a more gentle soul. Reading between lines is always tricky but it would appear the two women did not really get on. Both probably thought her way was the best. The girls, as any schoolgirls before or since, took full advantage and probably played one off against the other. Whatever the real truth, both women were deemed to be at fault. Rebellion quelled, they continued to work together for another five years although perhaps amicable is not the best word to describe their working relationship. In 1807 the Matron died and Frances Crook was appointed in her place.

Her tenure saw the School through a period of four different monarchs: George III, George IV, William IV and Victoria.

Four Monarchs

She must have offered a degree of stability to her charges during this period and at a time in their lives which was uncertain. Many of the girls were minus one parent and sometimes both and the School was their home. Although its roll was growing, by 1841 (the first census where the information was published) it still only had 55 pupils and 6 staff. One of these was the Eliza mentioned above and another was her sister Sarah!

The Morning Post March 26, 1852

On March 25 1852, presenting her what was described as ‘elegantly emblazoned testimonial’, the School honoured Mrs Crook’s service, albeit described here in somewhat purple prose:

The Morning Post March 26, 1852

Amongst other attributes, it was said that “she has never been absent from the school twenty-four hours at one time.” (The Era, March 28 1852)

The Era March 28, 1852

Such ceremonies tend to stray into the sentimental – how could they not? – and the Victorians loved a good wallow in sentimentality. The Era’s almost verbatim report demonstrates the kind of expressions which to modern eyes seem rather too gushing but which were nevertheless heartfelt at the time.

The Era March 28, 1852

The ceremony concluded with something the children had probably looked forward to most of all: “[They] were regaled with cakes, fruits &c … [and] were to be allowed to amuse themselves with singing and dancing in the evening.” (The Era)

Mrs Frances Crook

The date of this portrait is uncertain but it is feasible that it was painted to commemorate her 50^th jubilee. Of course it would not at all have been the done thing to refer to Mrs Crook’s age throughout all the praise being heaped on her although perhaps the references to the ‘remnant of her days’ may hint that she was beginning to look a little elderly. In the 1841 census, Frances declared herself to be 50 and she added ten years to that in 1851 but neither of these was at all accurate! She would have been 11 when appointed as Assistant Matron if they had been. Sadly, the earnest wish that ‘the day when she should be taken from amongst them might be far distant’ was never likely to be the case. Appointed as Matron on July 30 1807, her age declaration in census returns was never anything more than a ‘mind your own business’ response but when she died in 1854, it was finally revealed that she was 78. It was also never clear whether her title ‘Mrs’ was honorary or not. She was never referred to any differently but she would have joined the School at the age of 26 which would have made her a young widow if she had been married.

The Era October 22, 1854

Described as ‘zealous and energetic’ in life, there can be little doubt that she was a revered character who took great pride in her girls and appeared to be held in genuine affection by them. She died on 15^th October 1854, described unflatteringly as ‘An Aged Matron’ by the Daily News, apparently of some unspecified illness that she had suffered from for some time: she had “long been subjected to a painful disease” declared The Era. At the same time it also stated that she had died after a few hours of illness and there is a fleeting reference more than half a century later of a former pupil of the time declaring that Mrs Crook had died from a cholera outbreak and that a pupil had also died of it at the same time. Neither source is medically sound enough to draw a definitive conclusion so we must just settle for the fact that she had died.

The Era October 22, 1854

The Era’s guess (“Miss Jarwood … will most probably be the successor”) was exactly right. Eliza Jarwood was appointed as Matron and was another long-serving matron but then she’d already done 25 years before her elevation to matronhood. And her successor, Florence Mason, put in at least 35 years before retirement. In fact, there have been so many that any service less than twenty years is almost regarded as fleeting! Think of all the column inches that it would take if newspaper articles were as lengthy today as they were then …