Category Archives: history

Forgive Me for I have Sinned

I have sinned. I need shriving.

We should have spent the weekend doing boring domestic things like cleaning out cupboards and throwing away toot, or doing literary society work.

But we haven’t.

The only domestic stuff I managed to do was (a) the regular paperwork and make sure the bills are paid and (b) to put together the Saturday and Sunday evening meals. That really isn’t good enough considering the jumble-sale state of the house.

But did we care? Did we hell!

Instead we worked at cracking a couple of blockages in tracing my family history. We haven’t cracked them but we have made progress and narrowed some of the options. In both cases this is down to two heads being better than one, and Noreen having a couple of brainwaves.

The two cases are totally unrelated; one in my father’s family the other in my mother’s. The former in Kent; the latter in London. But both at at the end of the 18th century and beginning of the 19th, so way before there are birth, marriage and death registrations or censuses to help much.

In my father’s family I have a gg-grandfather the date of whose marriage I can’t prove and whose parentage I can’t prove. There is later census data which shows a string of children and there are death registrations for both gg-grandparents. I can’t prove which of two candidates is my gg-grandfather: there are two guys with the same names, born to different parents, within 2 years (1805-1807) in the same village. Which of them was it who married my gg-grandmother? I cannot tell. At very best I have some extremely vague circumstantial evidence. (Note that at this date most parish records do not give the names of the bride’s and groom’s fathers.)

But Noreen did solve part of the puzzle over gg-grandfather’s marriage. The marriage dates for my gg-grandparents don’t fit with the string of children — several are born before the apparent marriage. Noreen said “I don’t suppose he had two marriages?”. And yes, from the baptism records, it looks as if he did and that my gg-grandmother was his second wife. The first half of the children are by his first wife; and my line descends from the youngest child of the second wife. And that puts the marriage in the right place on the timeline. I still can’t prove it conclusively, but it looks likely.

This is going to be a case of go and hunt in the actual parish registers for the relevant villages and see if there are clues which aren’t in the transcriptions.


Late-1930/early-1931. My father (centre) aged about 10, with his parents, younger brother and baby sister.
It’s my grandfather’s line I’m trying to fix.
[Apologies for the scan of a poor copy of a poor original!]

In the other case, on my mother’s side, I have as good as fixed the problem gg-grandparents already, although corroboration would be nice. But I cannot fix my gg-grandmother’s parents or their parents.

We have likely baptisms for the ggg-grandparents, and also ggg-grandfather’s death. There appears to be a marriage, but the date is in doubt (by all of 10 years — choose 1822 or 1832!). 1822 is the more likely as the first child appears to be born in 1823. But by dint of diligent searching and some good guesswork we’ve managed to fix ggg-grandparents’ family on the 1841 census which we couldn’t previously and found a couple of their children who we didn’t previously know about and who probably died prior to 1841.

That doesn’t help unravel the problem of the gggg-grandparents although there are now a few clues to work on. And fortunately in this case we are looking at people with relatively uncommon surnames, but in London where many of the parish records aren’t available online (yet).

But we have made progress. Again it is going to be a case of looking at the original parish registers of a couple of well known London churches to see what clues they can offer which the available transcriptions can’t.

How do we do it? Basically I work as far as I can and draw out the options. In each case I then take Noreen through the case, outlining what I know and can prove, what we need to prove, and where there are conflicts or gaps. We then check the data together. And hunt together (or separately) other avenues which present themselves. We have ideas and hunches and try to prove (or disprove) them. And I do the same for Noreen’s researches. One of us presents our case and the other acts as judge. When we agree a position we then both act as investigating magistrates.

Yes, it is hard work and it does need two brains on the problem. It has to be approached forensically. One needs to know the result is correct; I liken it to having to convince a court. Many people are far too slapdash and make assumed connections where there are none; too much of what I see others doing I can easily prove to be wrong. I have to be convinced beyond reasonable doubt.

And it’s as annoying as hell not to be ale to crack the problems.

But it sure beats doing housework!

Today's Word : Halberd

Halberd
A military weapon, especially in use during the 15th and 16th centuries. A kind of combination of spear and battle-axe, consisting of a sharp-edged blade ending in a point, and a spear-head, mounted on a handle five to seven feet long.
By transference, a soldier armed with a halberd; a halberdier.
[Below left]
Halberds are still currently carried by the Papal Swiss Guard.

Compare with …

Pike
A weapon consisting of a wooden shaft, typically 14 to 15 feet long, with a pointed head of iron or steel; formerly the chief weapon of a large part of the infantry; superseded in 18th century by the bayonet.
A soldier armed with a pike is generally a pikeman.
[Below right]
Possibly the best way in the UK to see pikes and pikemen is either at a Civil war re-enactment or at London’s Lord Mayor’s Show on the second Saturday in November.

And of course there is then …

Spontoon
A species of half-pike or halberd carried by infantry officers in the 18th century (from about 1740); generally 6 to 7 feet in length.  

Awayday

Yesterday we had an awayday. As part of her Christmas present I said I’d take Noreen to Chichester before mid-February to see the Edward Burra exhibition at Pallant House Gallery. I also knew we’d also get at least a wander round the cathedral and a sniff round any bookshops we stumbled across. And of course there’s always lunch and coffee and cake and …

So yesterday was the day. Although we didn’t spend quite as long poking around Chichester as I’d hoped (the decrepit old knees won’t take a lot of it these days) it felt like a bit of a marathon, what with living the other side of London.

We left home just before 8am, took the train into Marylebone and a taxi across to Victoria where we were eventually allowed onto the train to Chichester. ETA 1115. (Coming home took just as long.)

The first stop was the cathedral which was welcoming and actually quite busy for a winter Tuesday. The heart of the building is Norman and there are some lovely decorated arches. But to be honest beyond that I didn’t find it one of the most entrancing cathedrals I’ve visited, although given that there are gardens (not visited) it would probably be much better on a summer’s day.

There is a (Victorian?) stained glass window and a memorial tablet commemorating the Tudor/Jacobean composer Thomas Weelkes and another tablet commemorating Gustav Holst. The stained glass window by Marc Chagall is also worth seeing.

There is also a rather lovely and unexpected piece of Roman mosaic which was discovered under the foundations and is now visible, in situ, behind a glass viewing panel in the floor. The cloisters, with their wooden vaulted roof are unusual and rather rather nice.

Roman Floor below Chichester Cathedral Cloister, Chichester Cathedral
More photos on Flickr

Lunch in the cathedral café was simple, good and welcomly warming on a bitter January day. Noreen had a pasta bake with veg and I had a fish bake also with veg. With a soft drink each this was, I thought, good value at under £18 for the both of us.

After lunch we wandered slowly past the market cross to find the Pallent House Gallery which was staging the Edward Burra exhibition. We hit a day when the gallery were doing half-price admission. Unexpected result!

I’ve never been sure about Burra’s paintings but he was a friend of Anthony Powell, especially pre-war, so a viewing was a necessity. Having seen the paintings in the flesh I’m still not sure about them; to be honest most of them really don’t do much for me. Many were smaller than I’d imagined, although there were also some which are much larger than expected. One or two of Burra’s late landscapes were rather nice, but his earlier work is extremely “disturbed” being often a cross between Heironymus Bosch (a known influence on Burra) and Salvador Dali. All in all his paintings look better in reproduction. Having said that Burra is probably more important than is often credited, under-rated and under-exposed — but this latter is doubtless because most of his surviving work is on private collections.

By now it was early afternoon and still bitterly cold. A meander through the town unearthed a secondhand bookshop, but nothing interesting to spend our money on. So we whiled away an hour drinking coffee and eating cake then made our way towards the station.

We just missed a train. This meant an amusing but cold 30 minute wait for the next one. I don’t know what it is about this area of the country but the train stations seem to be populated by a peculiarly local inter-mix of teenage school girls, low-life and the inhabitants of the nearest loony bin. At least it makes for an amusing way to waste the time between trains.

Nutter Triptych, Chichester Station
More photos on Flickr

The train back to Victoria was another amusement. It consisted of a 3 year-old who insisted, despite his mother’s instructions, on working the squeaky hinge of the lift-up tray on the seat. Two lads of about 20 who were Tottenham Hotspur supporters going to see Spurs play and who in 90 minutes managed to drink four cans of premium lager each! How they were standing by the time we reached Victoria GOK; but at least they were harmless. Although best of all was a large group of sub-teen French school-kids who at one point broke into a rendition of Queen’s I Want to Ride My Bicycle in cracked English. I was waiting for them to do the ‘Allo ‘Allo version of The Wheels on the Bus but sadly this never materialised. It would have been a fitting end to an interesting day.

Families

Yesterday I ended up spending a large part of the day immersed in my family history. It all started because Noreen (who has done at least as much work on my family as her own) noticed that one of the files we had from my mother had a birth certificate in it.

We have three crates of stuff from my mother, much of which is organised as a family timeline and history in ring binders, all of which has been refiled. But we realised we hadn’t been through the miscellaneous files for certificates, which I prefer to file separately. We started on the crate of miscellaneous files thinking we’d find a couple of certificates. We found a couple of dozen!

In entering all the certificate data into my family tree app I came across a death certificate for my g-g-g-grandfather, one James Gambridge (born ca.1789, died 1857) which records his occupation as “Cook on Her Majesty’s Ship Victory”. No this is too good to be true! He would have been about 16 at the time of the Battle of Trafalgar (in 1805). Is it possible he served under Nelson at Trafalgar?


Answer: No.

The crew (an incredible 850 officers and men) on HMS Victory at Trafalgar is well documented. And James Gambridge isn’t amongst them. (Nor is there a James Cambridge, the ‘G’ often being mis-transcribed as a ‘C’.) Now one shouldn’t always believe what is given even on certificates, and this rang alarm bells.

Yet I knew James Gambridge’s occupation was given as “Gunner” on his daughter Sarah Ann’s (my maternal g-g-grandmother) marriage certificate (in 1848). So maybe he was an enlisted sailor. Hmmm … more work required.

Then, talking over dinner, Noreen made an almost throw-away comment: “Of course there’s also Leading Seaman Albert Edward T Hicks of Dover who on the 1901 census is shown as serving on HMS Victory at Portsmouth”. What?

Now the Hickses are my father’s mother’s family and, yes, they come from Dover. “Oh yes”, says Noreen, “he’s one of yours”.

Now my g-g-grandfather was a certain Jabez Hicks of Dover, sometime mariner. And we know his son James Albert (1847-1888; not in my direct line) was also a mariner. Noreen is even more fascinated by this family than I am and has established that James Albert had a son Albert Edward Thomas (b. 1875). Both James Albert and his wife died quite young and it seems that the five surviving children were parcelled out around their aunts and uncles (who were likely also their god-parents).

Young Albert Edward was sent to live with his uncle Edward Israel Hicks and on the 1891 census is at the Royal Naval School at Greenwich. So much can be established from census records etc. (Albert Edward Hicks is quite common as names go, but Albert Edward T Hicks isn’t.) And hence Noreen’s discovery of Albert Edward T Hicks on HMS Victory at Portsmouth on the 1901 census.

This I now start to think I don’t believe.

So let’s see what, if anything, the National Archives come up with. God bless this new-fangled internet thingy ‘cos I can do this from home on a Saturday evening!

So after a bit of grubbing around — and much swearing at the awful slowness of the National Archives’ website — lo and behold I can find a Naval service record for Albert Edward Thomas Hicks of Dover. And the document is available for download (for the cost of a pint of beer).

He joined up for 12 years on his 18th birthday in December 1893 as a ship’s boy. He eventually retired from the Navy in October 1919 as a Petty Officer on HMS Lupin (almost 26 years service). He served several tours on HMS Victory (as well as, inter alia, HMS Hood (1891) and HMS Pembroke) and throughout the First World War. Absolutely amazing.

But following the same pattern I cannot find any service record for James Gambridge — and all the records are supposed to be there. One last desperate effort: let’s just do a general search for him, forget about targeting naval records. Wow! And there is a James Gambridge who served in the Royal Navy and Royal Marines between 1804 and 1839. Now this doesn’t quite fit as quoted ages etc. don’t properly match and I don’t yet have the full document (it isn’t one that’s online) to check it all. But yes, it may be a possible fit.

I never knew I had forebears in the Navy, let alone dreamt that they may have served on HMS Victory (albeit not at Trafalgar). And now I find I may had had two such. And both sides of the family. Wow!

Now I need to find more about my paternal grandfather’s service in WWI and WWII, which isn’t proving easy. I know he served as RAF barrage balloon ground crew in WWII. And in WWI he was a conscientious objector but volunteered to serve in the RAMC as a stretcher bearer at the front. How brave is that!

My Heritage is Under Threat

Yet again those dastardly Jonnie Foreigners want to slaughter my heritage. This time they’re after destroying Greenwich Mean Time.

They’re not content that our stupid government want to move us onto European time (equivalent to Summer Time) — permanently an hour adrift from real “astronomical time”. Oh no!

Now the scientific community want to abandon good old GMT completely and replace it with Coordinated Universal Time (UTC)**.


But wait! Isn’t UTC the same as GMT?

Well no, actually. Not as currently defined. Although it looks the same at the moment, the proposal appears to be to do away with leap seconds (of which there have been 24 in the last 40 years) which are inserted into UTC to help our electronic time keep track with the actual motion of the planet. Inserting leap seconds is a pain and a technical challenge, but not an insuperable challenge. But the proposal is in favour of apparent simplicity: to abandon leap seconds in favour of some currently undefined (and doubtless cocked up) solution in years to come when our modern atomic clocks have drifted too far from astronomical reality.

But surely GMT, when originally defined, did not have leap seconds defined? That’s true. Leap seconds weren’t invented until 1972, by which time GMT had been the universal time standard for almost 100 years.

So where’s the problem? Why can we not return to the original GMT, without leap seconds, if that is a scientific imperative?

Ah, now, that’s because GMT defines noon as the time the sun is exactly overhead at Greenwich. And in days of yore that was reset at regular intervals (daily?) so in effect GMT kept in track with every slight wobble in “astronomical time” automatically. But with atomic clocks that doesn’t happen. Time progresses regularly like, well, clockwork. And without leap seconds modern “electronic clock noon” (UTC) would drift away from “astronomical noon” (GMT) and that spells disaster for things like GPS.

So let’s just redefine GMT to be atomic clock time? But that would make it neither “mean time” nor “Greenwich time”, so it would be a misnomer. At least with a new name it is clear that the time being measured is different.

So … We have a working system which we are proposing to break. This is absurd. We should keep GMT (with leap seconds). It is a valuable part of our heritage. It tells people the history and science of measuring and recording time. Why are we throwing our history away so carelessly? Is nothing sacred?

** I’m sure the acronym for this should be “CUnT”.

Poppy Off

So FIFA have decreed that the England football team may not wear poppies on their shirts during their friendly match against Spain this coming Saturday. This is on the grounds that:

Fifa decrees that shirts should not carry political, religious or commercial messages. “Such initiatives would open the door to similar initiatives from all over the world, jeopardising the neutrality of football,” [FIFA] said.

I’m with FIFA. For once they’re absolutely right. If an exception is made in this instance it’ll be made for every other instance. The words “wedge”, “thin” and “end” come to mind.

Moreover someone has to stand up to this sycophantic poppy nonsense. As I wrote last year, I’m not saying we should forget all about the wars for the liberation of Europe, the bravery, the fallen, etc. But the whole thing is so totally out of hand one dare not do anything but go along with it. It’s dictatorial; it’s sycophantic; and it’s backward looking. We need to turn round and be going forward in happiness, thanks and peace; not looking backward in a sugar-coated, maudlin, pseudo-Christian, glorification of war. Yeuch!

I don’t expect other people to agree with me — although I can hope that some will. But it is only if dissident voices are heard that opinions (on anything) will ever change and progress will be made.

Links of the Week

This weeks collection of the curious and interesting you may have missed …

Lord Norwich makes some sly remarks about Popes. But how does he know what Pope Nicholas V was like?

Now apparently out gut bacteria may be causing obesity. And you thought it was because I ate too much.

Scientists also think they’ve discovered why some of us hate Brussels Sprouts. Yes it’s all in the genetics, and our taste buds.

In other news, speculation is rife that Palaeolithic man went in for piercing his penis. It all sounds pretty tenuous to me, but then there’s nothing new under the foreskin sun.

And finally … And finally someone in “authority” has come to realise that what we’ve been saying all these years might just be helpful: prostitution could be solved by decriminalising brothels. Government: smell the coffee … it ain’t going to go away and if you licence it you can tax it!

Word of the Week : Wapentake

Wapentake

1. A subdivision of certain English shires, corresponding to the ‘hundred’ of other counties. The shires which had divisions so termed were Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Notts, Lincolnshire, Northamptonshire, and Leicestershire; in all of which the Danish element in the population was large.

2. The judicial court of such a subdivision.

Quotes of the Week

This week’s selection of quotes which caught my eye during the last week …

Everyone has a photographic memory … Some just don’t have film.
[Thoughts of Angel]

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.
[Kurt Vonnegut]

Which links quite nicely to the following two …

We now return to the spring of 1593 and the events leading up to the killing of Christopher Marlowe … with a new understanding of the continuity of secret politics as a factor in his life. He is remembered as a poet … and as a wild young blasphemer in an age of enforced devotion, but he was also a spy … one of hundreds of such men, part of a maverick army of intelligencers and projectors on which the government of the day depended, sometimes out of a genuine need for information, but often in ways that relate more to political expediency, to courtly in-fighting, to police-state repression.
[Charles Nicholl, The Reckoning: The Murder of Christopher Marlowe, 2nd edition, 2002]

As we have found, time and again, informers have often a need to create information. They are ‘projectors’ who provoke or indeed invent dangerous sentiments in order to denounce them. They are ‘politicians’ in that pejorative Elizabethan sense, the sense in which Shakespeare means it when King Lear says, ‘Get thee glass eyes and, like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not’.
[Charles Nicholl, The Reckoning: The Murder of Christopher Marlowe, 2nd edition, 2002]