Various Victorians or, Clearing my desktop ..

Photos ... Names ...

I spot an interesting-looking picture on the web. I download it. Mostly, I investigate it. A little.

But sometimes I don't get round to it, and an odd collection of Victorian faces sits on my desk top, until a quiet Sunday. Like today. 

I picked this lady because she seemed a little unusual. The costume seems more like a stage outfit than day wear. Is this a case of Marie Antoinette playing milkmaids?

Well, her name was Agnes Maxwell Burt WRIGHT (b Edinburgh ?1849; d Dunkeld 1 March 1929). She was the daughter, one of four chidren, of William Burt Wright, MD, of Edinburgh, and Margaret Isabella née Wallace. And both families were, indeed, 'of interest'.

Father was apparently the nephew of another William Burt Wright (d 1821,'drowned in his bathroom'), a wealthy planter in Jamaica. It seems the family had roots in Westmoreland and Scotland. Wright senior is mentioned in a number of essays etc dealing with the now fashionable topic of slavery. I see that a couple of his five creole slaves took the name of Wright so it all gets a bit complex.

Anyway WBW the medical man died twice, it appears. His death is announced at 14 Manor Place, Edinburgh 11 January 1848. Later, he was said to have died the following year in London. I think the former is correct. After all, it was reported in the newspapers.

In the some seven years of his married life, he and his wife, Margaret Isabella Wallace (d Bognor 10 May 1899), had had four children. The important word there is 'Wallace'. Mrs Wright was a member of a hupper Scots family of that name, and eventually the heiress to the estates of Auchinvole. Which passed to her only son, William Burt Wright (again). Alas, before his death aged 45 from a bout of flu, he had frittered Auchinvole Castle estate away.

Sadder was the fate of eldest sister Isabella Maxwell Wright. She married Andrew Robertson, a widower with four children, added another daughter to the tally, and died just a matter of months later. Their daughter died in 1968, a Tunbridge Wells spinster. The other two sisters remained unmarried, Margaret died in Rossshire 27 March 1917. Agnes, who seems to have spent much of her adult life living with the Rutherford family in the Manse at Dunkeld, was the last survivor. 

The handsome gentleman is labelled as Thomas Richard BIRCHALL. Born Billinge, Lancs 13 May 1872; d Whiston 16 August 1947. Son of Joseph Birchall, variously a tailor, a draper and an auctioneer,

and his wife, Mary Ann. There seem to have been five sons (John Knowles, Joseph, Robert, Albert E) and three daughters (Eliza Ann, Mary Ann, Nellie).

He seems to have led an ordinary life in the trades of auctioneer, land agent, cab-owner  et al, and, 26 April 1898, married Annie née Waite. I see that in 1901 they were living at St Helen's so that is probably when this photo was taken. Thomas and Annie had no offspring. It was brother Robert's son who executed Thomas's will.  Maybe something else on the family is to be found ... but I stopped here.

Which leaves the weird looking gentleman. Edgar Musgrave (b Shillington/Cambridge Terrace 26 April 1835; d 1914). Well, he had an excuse for looking weird. He was struck blind at the age of three months. But probably not for his behaviour thereafter. 'He is the son of the Rev George Musgrave, lord of the manor of Shillington; the grandson of Mr George Musgrave (d 27 June 1861) who was High Sherrif of Bedfordshire in 1836 and a nephew of Mr Henry Musgrave JP of Beech Hill, near High Wycombe (b 2 Noember 1887)' related an article entitled "Come Down in the World" in the Portsmouth Evening News. He certainly had, 'His mother was the daughter of Mr Albert Oakes a member of the Indian government'. Yes. Actually, the Presidency of Madras.

Edgar was not the eldest Musgrave son. That distinction, and its heritage, belonged to Horace Musgrave. In May 1852 Horace was gazetted an ensign in the Cape Mounted Riflemen. By October he was dead, Aged 21. And blind Edgar, who played the piano so nicely, became 'the only surviving son'. And thus the heir to the lot. 'Landed proprietor' 'income from parents'. And a husband. The lady was a Miss Henrietta Marie Teschemaker, from Bath, 'youngest surviving daughter of John Teschemaker, Doctor in Civil Law, of Exmouth, formerly of Amersford, Demerara', by whom he had three children before she divorced him.

I append the children' details for a curious reason. As I play around with these portraits, I like to attach those which are relevant to some of the Findagrave memorials which exist on that splendid site.  Well, on the say-so of the contemporary newspapers (even the Morning Post!), I added the birthdates of the little Musgraves. The 'guardians' of the page rejected them as 'not agreeing with their data'. What data? They only have to fork out a few quid for birth certificates .. anyway, here is the correct 'data'

(1) Horace Edgar Musgrave born at The Beacon Exmouth 3 September 1861. Married St Michaels Church 8 April 1891 Cecilia Elizabeth Ross of The Warren Geraldine, NZ. Died Eden Hill, Mount Pleasant, Sumner 30 June 1924. Buried Bromley Cemetery, NZ. A Sunday drive from where I live.

(2) Philip Cransto(u)n Musgrave born at Shillington Manor 6 August 1863. Married Alice Marion. Son. Lt Commander RN. Died Esquimault, BC, Canada 17 February 1920.

(3) Ethel Henrietta Musgrave born Shillington Manor, 23 February 1865. Married Archibald Wilson McArthur, Lieutenant in the Indian Marines.

Here, in plus, they are in the British records. Some 'researchers' hav'n't got a clue! 

Edgar, however, started messing around. Notably with a Mrs Louisa Esther Broughton, née Peover, wife of the paymaster on the ship Topaze, by whom he had an illegitimate son, Edgar Harold, which died in infancy. Henrietta, claiming desertion for two years and adultery,  divorced him and married a Mr Manuel Eyre ... Edgar married the now widowed (30 July 1876) Mrs Broughton (1878), professing to be a bachelor

 

and they can be seen in Paddington in the 1901 census. Esther is running a boarding house at 65 Portsdown Rd, Maida Vale. And there is a clutch of family .. James [Robert Alexander] (22) Son, Charlotte [Margaret Louise] (20) daughter, Francis E Lucas (3) grandson, Constance Marshall (8) adopted daughter, Clare Fitzgerald (69) sister born Somerset ... oyyy, what a puzzle! His,? Hers? Theirs? Oh! where's George William Reginald MacMahon Musgrave .. died aged 1.  And there's a Laura Sarah Lucas, granddaughter, too .. not to mention Esther's daughter by the ill-fated Francis Delves Broughton RN, Laura Louisa Broughton (b Woolston, Southampton 15 April 1869) ..

Anyway, Edgar was pulling a con trick round the streets of London to 'boost the family income' (they have 7 rooms in Maida Vale in 1911, so what boosting?)  and his artistic aspirations ..

He died in 1914. 

Shall I tidy up the rest?

Well, daughter Charlotte married mining engineer Thomas Draper, and went off to Brazil. She died 8 July 1941 leaving a family.

Son James 'printers clerk' married (3 Feb 1907) Maude Mary Browne and had four daughters ...

Laura Louise was seemingly the source of the little Lucases. I don't know who Mr Lucas was. Her children were born, obviously illegitimately, as 'Broughton'.  She was found dead, seemingly from war action, 25 February 1944.

 

Clare Fitzgerald was the widow of the Rev John Fitzgerald Vicar of Camden Town. And yes, she was née Musgrave, daughter of George Musgrave. Born 24 April 1831, the elder of Edgar's daughters.

As for Constance the adopted child ... I see a Constance ?Marie Musgrave of 49 Star Street, Maida Vale born 13 April 1893, father Edgar Musgrave, at school in 1904 ...  

I think I've delved deeply enough into this family! I leave them to their twigs, and to the boringly untrusting Betty and Dan of findagrave who can take it from here. If I can find this much in one long morning, on folk who mean nowt to me, you should be able to build a (correct) mega-tree in a week? ... 

2022: Gerolstein the sights of March

 

It's been a decidedly action-filled time at Gerolstein this last month and a bit.  The normally reasonably peaceful parages of our home have been enlivened by all sorts jollities and ... so forth ...

The highlight of the month was Wendy's Significant Birthday on March 29. We don't do things like birthday presents, a nice bottle of Pegasus Bay Chardonnay and curl up with the cat is the usual. But I thought the 60th hurdle ought to have a bit of bling draped over it, so we doddled off to Christchurch for the first time in years, and visited Mr Holland ...  and Wendy's faithful Linda the Nissan was exchanged for brand new blue Boofie ..

And that hasn't been the only coming and going!  Our friends Robin and Geraldine Wilson, having given up their farm, they found themselves with certain farmish items which would not fit into their smart new home by the river.  The most important item was Mabel, officially 'Our Mabel', 21 year-old winner of five races and a much loved family pet. Mabel is now esconced in the Gerolsteinian forest paddock, becoming bosom buddies with 25-year-old Meril Franco and throughly at home.

Mabel wins

Mabel, however, came with a dowry! A smart red Fergie and all sorts of farmic accessories. Nigel and Bradley went down to pick them up on their megatrailer which promptly threw a wheel. They crawled home on three tires ...

Wheel-less in Gerolstein

Now, all this had a run on effect. Space had to be made in the barn for big red, which meant a rearrangement of vehicles and a triage of the dusty gear of years ...  

Grey tractor is out working!

I am the best, in our family, at chucking out stuff no longer needed in life. Perhaps because I'm 76 years old. These latest weeks I have been also cleaning out my cupboards and study and shelves ... clothes into which I no longer fit, trinkets from drawers and the past, books I shall never read again, crockery and kitchenware that sits in glass cupboards ...

The new, (comparatively) minimalist salon shelves

Anyway, the barn got a good going over and, the tin shed which houses the water pump, which had become a dumping ground. I found two feedsacks of used food cans ... NIGEL! That man cannot throw away ANYTHING ...  I have now christened it WENDY'S GARDENING SHED. So ... no more rubbish. Well, you can have one corner for wood chips for the 'bus fire ...

The garage is only half a garage. It is largely filled with firewood culled by Nigel and Brad from the mass of fallen and trimmed trees on the property, 

Brad, the champion digger/grab operator

So, I set to work on the remaining space ... broken buckets, unidentifiable chunks of machinery, second-hand nails, staples, wire ... BRADLEY!  Down the rubbish trench! No, DON'T scavenge in it!  Down the hole!  Oooh! Like father, like son!  Well, I got much of it done. Oh, yes, youse others, I'm not finished yet!  But I made enough space for  the pumpkin crop ...

There are more coming, so the rest of the bench is in for a razzia, soon!

But we have to fit this lot in first! 

Solee Stagbeetle, could I set up a market stall selling pine-slice tabletops?

However, the coming and goings at Gerolstein have not been limited to Mabel and Machinery. We have cats. We used to have Minnie, ChiQi and Sox. Then Lily arrived and took over the bach which used to be our visitor accomodation. She looks sad, but she freaks out if let outside ..

Then pretty Lollipop turned up on the doorstep. No. Sorry, Lolly. We'll give you food on the doorstep, but you can't come inside.

Lolly's revenge. She presented us with four kittens. Two survived. A boy and a girl. Herbert and Sherbertte. 

While I was in Australia, I have a feeling the young ones connubed. When I retuned, Sherbertte was suckling five tiny kittens. What we didn't know was that Lolly had produced a brood in the next paddock as well ... and what? Somebody's sister or cousin or aunt had produced another litter ...

Of course, we fed the quins 

and before long they were semi-outdoor kitties

But our kittyfood shopping bill (even without our darling departed Minnie) was up to $250 a week. And I still hadn't found a cuddle kitty. Never mind. I prefer outdoor kitties who visit ...

Something had to be done. And we lucked in big time. Our checkout lassie at Rangiora Countdown saw our vast kittyfood purchase, and we struck up a kittyconversation. And from that conversation we got in touch with the wonderful Karen of Kitty Kingdom ...  We have trapped 10 wild kitties which she will take to the vet for speying, caring and re-homing ...  

Lolly went too. But we decided that .. we want her back!  Safely unbabyfied (scheduled for today!) she can look after her five grandkitties ... we think four boys and one girl ... because, yes, we are keeping the quins as well. After they too have made a trip to Kitty Kingdom!

I know there's a mouse in this roof!

The farm and animals take up a great amount of Wendy's time (and ALL of my pension!) but there is still time for other ventures ...

The vegetable and flower gardens!  This month we bought two more 2-metre Planters as the veggie patches spread ... and we learned a wee bit more about nurturing them. Eating homegrown veg is such a joy.  First attempts with some varieties have been only mildly (un)successful -- cucumber (I had the first midget for lunch), beans, cauliflower -- but our cabbages and spinach and kale are triumphant! And goodness me, how many tomatoes have we had from one little plant!

Just the right amount!  Two underripeys a week!

While this has all been going on, I, of course, with my wobbly legs and useless arm, have continued with the inside 'jobs' ...

There, the highlight was the publication, by the very ritzy Carcanet of England, of brother John and my translations of the crazy Napoleonic poetry of Frenchman Petrus Borel.  

A loopy landmark book!

It's attracted an amazing amount of 21st century interest and acclaim, so let's see!  It was fun doing it, and the only time brother John and I have worked together on an entire volume.

Over in America, the second edition of my THE MUSICAL, A CONCISE HISTORY, updated with the help of Jamie Findlay, also hit the bookstalls ..

Beautifully produced by SUNY, who a few months earlier had put out my wholly new Gilbert and Sullivan book

Yes, I still write every day. Useful stuff, magazine articles, bloggery, amusing (to me) stuff ...   and I have new shoes which allow me to go outside and walk around the beauties of Gerolstein, and pat the old horses ...  

Oh, I withdrew from harness racing some years ago because of the corruption rife in the sport (they call it 'the industry' now, which may be the problem). Well, the corruption is still there, and we all know where it is, but the police are, for some reason, afraid to intervene. The cloak of darkness of the Inca affair, with its drug dealing and race fixing ... I mean, forcing a horse sniff fridge gas?   

But. Even when you know that it's not a fair game out there, you still want to play. And you want to say to the old girls in the back paddock (or their memory) ... it was worth it.  We have had fun. OK Ben Johnson or Marion Jones or Linford Christie beat us  ... but it was (expensive) fun. And sometimes (52 times actually) we did win!

I won't talk of the politics and court cases (most unsatisfactory) in the 'industry', or of the aftermath (or bottle of whisky) which persuaded me to suddenly come out of my denial period, and buy a granddaughter of my darling Duchess ... suffice it  that I did. Emily is now three years old and on the verge of being a racehorse

This week, we went up to Rangiora racecourse to watch her run in a trial. Memories of twenty years ago  when I was there every weekend ... with my horses and, yes, even driving ...  Now I am safely in the stands!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nRXloy5dq4Y&t=1s

Looks like we may have some racing merriment over the winter!

Yes. Winter. The first log fires have warmed us this week ... that woodpile in the garage will start to shrink.  And I will be here. Normally, I would be headed for my winter palace in Australia. But the ridiculous measures imposed by various follow-the-fashion politicians meant that I spent eight months there last year. This year, Gerolstein's fires, kitties, company and cuisine seem all the more attractive!

Soon, farewell autumn ... let's see what winter brings ... 

Silly Flosshilde: you're a girl!

Staking our claim

Stop press: Lollipop home from the doctor. A bit stunned and woozy. Nothing that a few days in the crimson pavilion won't cure!

Polly's tale: or, who needs a parson?

 

I have been grumbling a tad about the cartes de visite I have been pulling out of the past for investigation. So many Indian Army types, so many landed gentry, so many moneyed businessmen ..

Well today I got my come-uppance. A more 'ordinary' lady than this one I could not I have fallen on. Families of manual labourers, cowmen, domestic servants ..

So. 

You know that old canard about the morality of the working classes?  Well, if morality equivates things like marriage vows, this lady is more or less proof of the contrary.

She is labelled on the verso as Polly Whicheloe, so finding her wasn't very hard. Born 5 Sydenham Crescent, Croydon 29 March 1883. Father George Whichelo from Abingdon, Yorks, labourer and Miss Sarah Weeks, fifth daughter of Charles (labourer) and Charlotte Weeks of Fareham ...  No, they weren't married. But they had five or six children together as they moved from Croydon to Guildford to Erith to Wallingford  ...

Like mother, like daughter. Polly Weeks or Whichelo duly became a domestic servant, and age 26 she bore an illegitimate daughter to a labourer by name George Alfred English. Edith May was christened with her mother's surname, and died as an infant. Three other children were born before the couple decided to regularise their relationship. Another followed, before George went to war. He didn't return.

Polly remarried a labouring man by the name of John Chivers. I fear he was the same John Chivers of Godstone who had been convicted at age 17 of comitting an 'abominable act' with a mare, and jailed for 12 months. Now he was, at age 50, more sage. But Polly didn't have him for long. Four years, and she buried a second husband.

Polly lost her son in the second war, and can be seen in 1939 living with her two then unmarried daughters, the future Mrs Gladys Maud Pritchard (b 4 January 1914; d Wrexham 1987) and Dora Elizabeth Violet English (b 10 November 1909; d 1979).  Both domestic servants.

Polly died in South Shields in 1970.

This photo is inscribed "Aunt Polly Whicheloe", so I guess it belonged to a child of one of Polly's siblings ... Rose, Joseph, Thomas, Alice ....  But Wichelo?  Not English?  She doesn't look to be under 26 ... but maybe.  Who knows.  I guess she keeps some of her secrets.

Blue blood and red blood

 

This morning, doing my ebay wander for the day, with eyes blurred by hay fever, I plucked a few aristos from the photo bin ...

Only, the first one wasn't.

For all his splendid poise, John McLeod RAINSFORD (Camden Town 27 June 1848; Bideford 11 October 1927) worked all his life for the gas and coal company. Father Octavius was a coal merchant. JMcL married Julia Metcalfe from India, and they had a son John Henry (1878-1924, hay and straw merchant) and a daughter Julia Millicent (1888-1948, Mrs Wm Edward Dyson, schoolmaster). The son looks even more aristocratic than his father ...!

Second strike was nearer. Mabel Elizabeth HENRY (b Malta 12 January 1843; died 2 Northwick Villas, Douro Rd, Cheltenham 12 May 1911) was indeed related to a peer.

Her father was Captain Charles James Henry, and her mother Lady Selena Constance Hastings, daughter of Baron Rawdon of Yorkshire. Details in Burke.

One of three sisters (Eva, Agnes) Mabel lived out her life in Cheltenham, single, with a family of servants ...

Next dip was ever so aristo. And rather sad.

These are three of the four children of the Earl of Winchilsea and his wife Constance Henrietta Paget.  Blood of the bluest. The little girl is the same in both snaps. 

Alas, blue blood often has less staying power than red.  The bigger girl is Mabel Finch HATTON (b 1849), here aged twelve. Mabel married William George Eden 6 July 1872, and died a few months thereafter. The lad is George Finch-Hatton, who took on one of his father's spare titles as Viscount Maidstone, pending his accession to the Earldom. But he never succeeded. He died at the age of 26.

Little Hilda Jane Sophia (b 3 March 1856) married Henry Vincent Higgins 'of the first Life Guards' and later solicitor and Director of the Ritz Hotel Syndicate, Paris. She had two sons before her death 8 February 1893.

Only eldest sister, Constance, made it through to the 20th century ...

Hang on. I think they're related to this lot.  Marquis of Ailsa ...

I finished up with another lady who looked very regal, but actually only made it into a lesser volume of Burke. But she had a good pedigree: daughter of a senior wrangler of Cambridge University (QC), wife of the stroke of the Oxford boat race crew (QC) ...

Edrica Jane COWLING (b Paddington 22 September 1852; d Hyères, France 23 December 1929) was the daughter of John Cowling, latterly deputy High Steward of Cambridge University, and a well-known barrister. Cowling died suddenly of bronchitis when Edrica was only three

She married Reginald Godfrey MARSDEN MA (Merton College), QC, a scion of the ancient Yorkshire family of Marsden and had three sons, plus the little girl pictured here

Dorothy Nina MARSDEN (b London 21 August 1875; d Kensington 27 April 1938) married architect Thomas Tyrwhitt, 'son of the Rector of Weston-in-Gordano' by whom she had a son, Robert (b 12 May 1909; d Stonecutter's Island 3 May 1932) a sub-lieutenant in the navy, who committed suicide on his ship the Orpheus, aged 23, and two daughters.