My grandfather, my step–grandmother (and Dickens & Nelson)

Joe, his wife, Lily, and his sister (also Lily)

and an unknown clerical gentleman

I have recently rediscovered some of the letters that my grandfather sent to my father, and these have more than family interest. Here first is an insight into London schooling in the late nineteenth century. (My grandfather left school in 1899. The family lived in Bermondsey, close to Tower Bridge). I have transcribed the letters into Courier New—a font which is an aesthetic insult to typography, and which I think has no other use than to reproduce the results of the typewriter:

I remember full well, that I left school on my 13th birthday, and the master told my mother, that I was a bright boy, but oh so lazy!  Of course it was very fortunate that I discovered what ignorance meant as soon almost as I stepped out of the school ground.  Of course one can never really make up for lost time.  But then one has to remember that the old London Board School never set out to make scholars.  As long as simple arithmetic and elementary spelling were assimilated, the job was done. Believe it or not though, I did not even get that far.

I have since made attempts amongst other things, to acquire a smattering of Latin, but with no success.  Fortunately I took interest in the French language, and this gave me my chance on the Continental. [Attending Railway Union conferences in Belinzona, Switzerland]

My grandfather did indeed learn French, and I am sure many other things at evening classes. I don’t think that he ever read Samuel Smiles’ Self Help, but he definitely embraced the ethos of Victorian self–improvement. His father was a goods–yard shunter on the railways, and Joe started off as a signal clerk. He worked his way up gradually, and eventually became manager of the Bricklayers Arms Goods Depot in south London. The depot was one of the largest in the country, and of vital importance during WW2. Consequently it was extensively bombed and at times not too far removed from war–front conditions. Post–war Joe worked in railway offices at Victoria Station.

My (paternal) grandmother died before I was born; and Joe remarried. He met his second wife as a result of involvement with the Labour Party. Joe was a keen unionist, and his second wife (Joy) was what used to be called a ‘silver spoon socialist’. She was a member of the Cecil family, and her father owned much of the land around the village of Bletchingley, Surrey – that is until he successfully managed to gamble most of it away . . . However, Joy was a truly committed Labour Party member and was re–elected as Labour candidate for the Rural District of Godstone & Parish of Bletchingley, Surrey – in the very heart of Conservative country – year after year. That was because people knew that   she cared – and indeed she would willingly turn out in the middle of the night to help someone. During Neil Kinnock’s leadership of the Labour Party she was given one of two annually awarded Kier Hardy prizes for outstanding local political activity. Their marriage was amazing in a way: Joe from the working class roots, and Joy from the upper or ‘landed’ classes. Further, Joe was twenty years older than Joy. Nevertheless, it worked wonderfully. Joe became quite the squire in a way – in Bletchingley – and I remember one Christmas his giving the post–boy a half crown. This was a gesture of genuine kindness, but also I think a demonstration of Joe’s standing in the community!  Joe’s letter continues:   

I am left with the impression that grandfather Hart was about twenty years older than grandma, in which case he would have been born about 1807. He seemed to have suffered from continuous ill health, which having no private means, caused the family some financial hardship. I learned that he was at one time a news reporter for a journal called “The South London Press”. He probably did some clerical work in the City of London. When he was alive, the family had a small house in South London near the Church of St George. –This is “Little Dorrit’s” church of Charles Dickens fame. (I have seen many of your soldiers visiting the church during the war)* The church was known as St George in the Fields when it was built. The district was bombed, but the church escaped serious damage.

Grandma Hart always referred to grandfather as “poor Hart” They appear to have lived quite happily together. It might be asked why  I did not fill in further details from my father or aunts. I suppose the short answer would be that as I grew older, my interest diminished.

On looking back I think it should be noted with some interest that both grandparents could read and write, which considering the state educational facilities of the early part of the last century, marks them as being a little above the average.  As a child I was very fond of Dickens (and I still am) and when talking with me [sic] to grandma about a copy of Pickwick Papers which I had just received from a library, she remembered when it came out first, in weekly parts, and how “poor hart” [as grandma Hart always referred to grandfather] purchased a copy on the day of issue, and with what zest they both enjoyed reading it.  One of my boyhood heroes was Nelson, and you can imagine how widely I opened my eyes when grandma told me that she knew and had spoken with a man who had fought in Trafalgar under Nelson.  Another was George Stephenson, the power behind the steam locomotive, and it was a wonder to me how grandma could possibly got [sic] before there were railways!  From this starting point I elicited the information that when she first came to London, it was from the White Hart Inn at Lewes [Sussex], that she started by stage coach from about the year 1839.  Apparently, as was not unusual, she left the village to take service in London as a girl of eleven or twelve, but in what capacity or where, history is silent.  

  Great grandfather Mabbott held some sort of semi official office with the Lewes Town Council. At one time he was Town Crier. This would require him to wear the gold braided cocked hat and cloak, and after ringing his bell on the steps of the old town hall, and calling “Oyez, Oyez” proceed to read to [sic] councils notices and proclamations, followed by personal notices of things lost and found, and announcements. . .[I do not have the next page]    

Joy, my step–grandmother, taken 

before she met my (paternal) 

grandfather

 





  

Joe and Joy at Little Coldharbour, near Bletchingley, Surrey. Probably taken in the early 1950s, or possibly in the late 1940s. It is perfectly clear how happy they were – former working class boy from Bermondsey, and former member of the Cecil family! I was lucky enough to spend holidays with them—and never was boy so happy!

                                  

*This reference to the war is puzzling. It is true that London was bombed during the First World War, but not nearly as extensively as during the Second World War. But I imagine that Joe still knew this area as a result of his work at the Bricklayers Arms goods depot.