She's a fairly distant relative of mine, the "wife" of a first cousin, twice removed, but somehow I got dragged into researching her story. She started off as just a married name on a census - I shall call her Jeannie Jenner, but finding her birth and birth name really took some hard work. She had an unusual Christian name - I assumed it was a shortened form - as it was - BUT it was her middle name. I only found out her given name when I researched some of her children's births and got "Richardson" the surname. . . Censuses and records said she was born in Rugby, in Birmingham, in Warwick, in Worcestershire. I drew a blank everywhere. It wasn't until the 1921 census that I got the Big House name where her father worked and tracked her down. I've changed all the names in case anyone she's related to happens to read this and is shocked. Highly unlikely I know, but that's just me.
When she was born in rural Warwickshire, life looked like it held a gentle future - village life, marrying an Ag. Lab and settling down to having children year on year, with parents nearby and everyone who meant anything to her in the same village. Jeannie attended the village school with her siblings and had no fears. Her dad was stud groom at the Big House and they had a lovely tied cottage in the grounds. Then he died, and everything changed. They had no home, no money and had no option but to ask Granny B for help and went to live with her in London - 10 of them all told, in a couple of rooms in what we would call a "house of multiple occupation" - about 30 people crammed into one tenement.
By the time she is 20 she turns up staying at a pub on the Isle of Wight with her first "husband", a man nearly old enough to be her father (he is 36). But hey, he's a Comedian and is fun to be with and she feels SO grown up and she is out of Granny's overcrowded rooms.
Life continues to throw curved balls though, and by 1895 we find her in the Workhouse, "in labour". Did her family throw her out? Her namesake little "Jeannie Richardson" is born and within a few months, has died.
Then dependable "Albert Jenner" comes into the picture and the children start appearing like clockwork - one every couple of years, as soon as the protection offered by breast-feeding ended and doubtless Pennyroyal helped when she could afford it (it's an aborifacient - Keith's gran used to use it . . .) They lived with his mum to start with (for whom London must have seemed horribly busy and life financially a struggle after rural Devon). Then she died and they were on their own, playing happy families with an increasing brood. She was pregnant with her ninth child (3 of whom have already died) when her "husband" died, aged only 40. The census shows us with just the three youngest children - including "Alice", the baby. Scrawled across the page "Other Children in W******** Parish Home." These were pretty well the three oldest ones, and even there they didn't stay put as "Bert" ended up at Chorlton in Manchester in the Ragged and Industrial Boys Home, where he still was in the 1921 census.
I couldn't find Alice anywhere. Nor ever any marriage for her mother (either with the Comedian or Albert Jenner) until she marries Mr D in 1924. However, there was a May D born in the same year as "Alice". I have made my own conclusions as Alice never shows up again. A little fib on Jeannie's behalf on the census . . . A son with the same new father also puts in an appearance. Then in the 1921 census, two of the siblings are in a flat paid for by Mr D. Written beside each of them was Step-daughter - only the first one had "step" crossed through, so it looks like Jeannie and Mr D may have been having an affair before her husband died. Perhaps she had to nurse him. Perhaps they had fallen out of love due to the hardships and privations they suffered. Who knows what we would do in that situation, desperate for help and love and money.
They eventually married - after she had given birth to 11 children and buried 3. They appeared to live happily ever after and I am still in the process of trying to trace missing children.
If you find this a boring post - sorry, but it cried out to be written. "Jeannie" has been remembered and I'm glad about that as she had a tough life, one way and another.
Now I see why you get so interested in family history! Fascinating to go further than just birth and death dates which is as far as anyone tracing our family history has gone
ReplyDeleteIt took HOURS of research. I just got totally dragged in, even to the point of tracing one of her sons through his life (the one who ended up in Manchester). Aged 54 he emigrated to Australia with his wife. Good for him!
ReplyDeleteP.S. Sue - It's nearly always more than just names and dates. That's what makes it so compulsive. I had a great aunt who worked for the grandson of the model for Mr Brocklehurst in Jane Eyre . . .
ReplyDeletePutting reality on the bare statistics is always fascinating
ReplyDeleteThere's no point in just a tree with names and dates - like the way history was taught at school in my day. You need to learn about the people.
DeleteThis type of family history is interesting. I don't know much about my ancestors. A distant cousin researched my father's family, through the male line, and went back to 17th century France but it's mostly birth and death dates. A few histories do survive though, including about the horrific sailing across the Atlantic in the 18 th century where most passengers died of dysentery. Life was hard . Sadly it still is for many. Your Jeannie managed to struggle through, though. Good for her!
ReplyDeleteGosh, those Atlantic crossings sound horrendous - imagine being down in the hold when everyone has the squits . . . the smell must have been enough to carry you off, let alone the dysentery infection.
DeleteResearching family history is compulsive and I have found similar stories on ancestors on both sides of my parents.
ReplyDeleteOne of my folk in Berry Pomeroy died from Typhus in the 1850's/60s.
Deletenever apologise for committing to paper what you learn! These were real people who deserve to be remembered if someone will. I only wish I had asked questions and written information down when I had the opportunity.
ReplyDeleteYou may come to regret that Debbie! I wish I'd asked my dad so many things but he never mentioned his mum, who died in Frome aged only 42 I think it was. Even when we drove through Frome he never mentioned her, only the smell from the Vinegar factory when they lived there.
DeleteYou did so much research and found out so much of her story.
ReplyDeleteGod bless.
Quite a few hours indeed, but you get hooked!
DeleteBack then, with no support, women did whatever they had to, just to survive. Giving children up to homes and workhouses must have been tough, but they were used to the deaths of their children, so may have felt they did the best thing... or the only thing they could. How difficult life was.
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Indeed, at least she managed to avoid the Oldest Profession. It must have broken her heart to send those 3 children to the Orphanage, but they were given a trade and had a roof over their heads, and doubtless made friends. One of the daughters who turned up in 1921 was a Tailoress, so I think she went to an Industrial school to as that was one of the trades they taught.
ReplyDeleteSo few choices and opportunities for women for so many centuries. Poor nutrition, poor hygiene, minimal education. I'm reminded of the area Amish women. Most of them have at least a dozen children, sometimes more.
ReplyDeleteIn researching J's paternal lines I discovered a 4 x great grandmother, Patsy, who had at least 3 children, but no husband. Interestingly, on the death cert for her daughter in J's direct line, a 'father' is named. Digging through the census I found the man to be a fairly close neighbor of the woman in question. Her parents were landowners, she inherited land. I wish I knew the rest of her story.
When we did the Jack the Ripper night walk, it struck me over and over again, that women in those days were just one misfortunate away from losing everything. Life could and did, change on a dime. I can not imagine having so few choices in life, so little control.
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