An alternative origin story for David Scott Ritchie of Paddington

My last post on this blog reported  on a DNA connection between my aunt, born Gillian Margaret Scott-Ritchie, and her cousins who emigrated to Canada. The genetic link confirmed that my grandfather David Scott Richie was definitely the biological son of David Scott Ritchie Sr, the slight-looking man in the photo from Hanwell Asylum published elsewhere on the blog.

This left me with a conundrum. How could I explain Grandad's aristocratic appearance? More puzzling still, who funded his education and facilitated his entry into the burgeoning computer industry?

Finally, I dared to ask the question, What if  Maude, my great-grandmother, wasn't Grandad's biological mother? It would certainly explain the absence of a birth certificate. It would also account for the fact that  Maude wasn't part of my mother and aunt's life growing up. Documents show that she didn't even live with my grandfather from the time he was about 7, choosing instead to have him live with her sister Emily.

Here is a possible version of events, based on what I know about the way things worked in London society at the turn of the twentieth century:

David Scott Ritchie worked as a footman for the Viscount Francis Wheler Hood and Edith Lydia Drummond Hood. He charmed a young girl of aristocratic birth who either lived at the house or came to stay. When it emerged that the girl was pregnant, her parents were appalled. However, they happened to be people of good character, so they made arrangements for the child to be taken care of. Picking another of the servants, a young, responsible woman named Maude Alice Parker, they organised a marriage between David Scott Sr and Maude Alice before the expected birth and set them up at 22 Albert Street. They even established a fund to ensure that the child would receive a proper education.

All might have gone according to plan had not David Scott Ritchie Sr suffered an attack of insanity in 1909 and been institutionalised. The fact that he was first seen at the local workhouse and lived out the rest of his life in a paupers' asylum indicates how hard up he and Maude were. Yet their son, my grandfather, left school and landed a job with an engineering company who transferred him to South Africa at the age of 28 to head up their newest branch.

I have a good feeling about this version of events. If it is true, it would explain why my grandfather never spoke about his early life. Knowing there was a secret surrounding his birth and how he came to be at a good school, he would have been obliged to keep the facts hidden.

The same goes for me if I should discover the identity of the young girl through my DNA research. The next question I have to answer is, How do I create a family tree that is private so i can continue building it with historical records without compromising anyone else's privacy?

Photo credit: Image from page 265 of"The Linzee family of Great Britain and the United States of America and the allied families of Penfold, Hood, Amory, Tilden, Hunt, Browne, Wooldridge [and] Evans".

 1917,; Linzee, John William, by Internet Archive Book Images.

 

Transforming documentary evidence into plausible family history

After my in-depth examination and presentation of the documents relating to David Ritchie's admission to the London County Asylum, I feel the need to meld the elements together into a proper story. In this, I must take some literary licence. There are still big gaps in my knowledge, especially with regard to my great-grandfather's medical diagnosis. What follows is, therefore, only a possible version of events, yet it helps bring history to life.

To recap, David Ritchie Sr, born in November 1873 in Tottenham, was the second son of William and Emma Eliza Ritchie. The census of 1891 found him living with his widowed mother and sister in the City of London and working as a junior clerk. A year later, at the age of 18, he suffered an attack of insanity and switched his occupation to footman.

For 10 years, he maintained a steady track record, eventually finding himself in the enviable position of working for the Viscount Francis Wheler Hood in Mayfair. There he met Alice Parker, whose Christian name was Maude. When it emerged that Maude was pregnant, the couple moved from Chesterfield Street to a boarding-house in Albert Street. They married in February 1902 and their son David was born on the last day of March.

As soon as it was possible for Maude to wean David, she arranged for him to go and live with her sister Emily, who had a son of the same age. Maude and David Ritchie Sr returned to work as before, in aristocratic houses. For example, David worked at 10 Cornwall Gardens, South Kensington from May 1904 till September 1907. Then came an opportunity for both him and Maude to work for Sir Charles Murray at Cleveland House in St James Square, Piccadilly.

David and Maude finished up at their respective jobs a month ahead of the new appointment. Emily and William Smith kindly invited them to stay at their house so they could spend time with their son. Maude readily agreed, anticipating a welcome holiday. But the house was full of noisy children and, given his mental fragility, David Ritchie felt overwhelmed. He couldn't wait to relocate to the much more sedate and orderly atmosphere of Cleveland House.

Things did not improve though. The last couple of weeks at the Smith household had exposed him to childhood illnesses, leaving him suffering from deafness. Then his son fell ill and was transferred to the fever hospital. The stress of meeting a new employer, trying to learn the foreign habits of the rest of the Murray family, and worrying about his son, combined with his own deteriorating health, lowered his defences against insanity. His speech turned to rambling, he sang and laughed at inappropriate times, and he claimed to have been sent to elevate the human race. When he refused to be silenced and resisted efforts to control him, it became clear to Maude that she needed help.

Lacking the means to take him to a doctor herself, she turned to the Parish of St Marylebone. They accepted him as a pauper into the workhouse. He was examined by a medical practitioner and found to be of unsound mind. Feeling helpless, Maude agreed that he should be transferred to the London County Asylum in Hanwell for special care and treatment. Thus began the long separation; her working for the Murrays in St James Square, her son David living with her sister in ST John's Wood, and her husband living as a lunatic behind high walls in Hanwell.

Personally, I don't understand why Maude didn't live with one of her other single sisters, work as a daily woman and raise her son herself, but she must have had her reasons.

Photo credit: "Old doll with blue dress" by Lisa Ann Yount.

Taken charge of and detained under care and treatment

In my previous post, I began sharing some of the documents relating to David Ritchie Sr's admission to the London County Asylum in Hanwell. Here I present the next batch. In the words of Judy Lester who found the documents for me, "As you'd expect, under the provisions of the Lunacy Act (1890) there was a lot of paperwork connected with committal to an asylum. So there are many forms and notes."

One document lists the expenses incurred by the Relieving Officer in regard to the enquiry into David Ritchie Sr's state of mind. The Relieving Officer was the person at the workhouse who was in charge of deciding which residents were entitled to receive assistance, and exactly what form that should take. In this case, he was responsible for deciding whether David Ritchie should be admitted to the workhouse at all, and after establishing that he should not, he arranged for a Justice of the Peace [a policeman] to come and take him to the London County Asylum. The expenses were all incurred on 5 June 1909.

As you consider the list, I invite you to picture the scene. A cab draws up to the gates of the Marylebone Workhouse. Watery sunlight spills from the roof of the building and reflects off the vehicle's bonnet. A horse drawn cart clatters past, speeding up as it goes. From inside the cab, the keen-eyed passenger can't help noticing that the skinny woman holding the horse's reins has a decidedly guilty expression on her face, but before he can get distracted, he climbs out, reminds the driver to wait, and puts on his hat. Burnt porridge and wood fire smells seep from a high window, causing his nostrils to twitch as he looks around. Then he spots a pitiful-looking figure dressed in a worn-out coat with tails. Immediately, he calls out in an authoritative voice, instructing the inmate to bring someone with a key. At the same time he pulls out a sheaf of papers from the inside pocket of his jacket. It is time to meet and take charge of the lunatic within.

Now, here is the list of expenses, offered in my own words:

Two shillings for the hire of a cab to convey the Justice of the Peace from Duke Street to the workhouse, including waiting and return. Seven shillings 6 pence for the part-hire of a cab to remove David Ritchie to Hanwell asylum. One shilling 6 pence for the part-hire of a male attendant. Six shillings for expenses incurred by the Relieving officer with regard to filling in forms, waiting on the Justice of the Peace, etcetera. Seven pence for postage, etcetera [including 2 pence for correspondence with David Ritchie's wife Maude].

The above expenses came to 17 shillings 7 pence. In case you are not familiar with the old money used before the decimal system was introduced, bear in mind that there were 12 pence in a shilling and 20 shillings in a pound. Thus, the total amount incurred was nearly 1 pound.

Accompanying documents show that money was duly paid out to the Relieving Officer. These documents include an order from the Justice of the Peace to the Guardians of the Poor of the Parish of St Marylebone, directing them to reimburse the Relieving Officer the sum of 17 shillings and 7 pence. Also, receipts for payments made by the Relieving Officer to the Marylebone Workhouse, to cover the hire of the cab and a male attendant.

I share these details of expenses because they flesh out the journey my great-grandfather took on that fifth day of June 1909. What was for one man an entry into an unknown world of institutional food, padded rooms and locked wards was for others a routine day of driving, signing papers and issuing payments. History is surely full of contrasting perspectives.

Photo credit: "Great Britain 6 pence 1900" by Numismatic Coins & History.

What to do with insanity in the family

My great-grandfather David Scott Ritchie Sr was committed to an asylum and lived there until he died at the age of 92. When I first learned of this fact I was mildly intrigued. Then I sobered up as realisation dawned. Assuming he is my biological relative, I carry some of his genes and so do my children.

I intend to share the doctor's report on this blog but, in doing so, I feel I should address the question of what it might mean to you if you are one of David Ritchie's descendants. If you want to find out more but are afraid of what you may discover, consider following these suggestions:

1. Acknowledge your fear

People who pretend they are unafraid of something expend energy trying to avoid ever coming into contact with it. Accept that you are afraid so that your subconscious mind can stop wasting valuable brainpower on self-deception and -diversion. Admit to feeling threatened and allow yourself to experience uncertainty and doubt.

2. Name what you are afraid of

Take time to identify what exactly makes you frightened. If it is losing your mind, being rejected by your loved ones, living in a psychiatric institution, never becoming all you could be,, or going down in history as a hopeless case, say so. By naming the thing you most fear, you take away its monster-in-the-dark quality and render it less scary.

3. Exercise curiosity

Once you have named your fear, it becomes possible to examine it more closely. You can access information from online articles, books and documentary films. If you are specifically worried about symptoms of mental illness, you can book an appointment with a doctor or psychologist to discuss your concerns. Talk to people who have been treated for various psychiatric conditions and find out how both their ailment and their treatment have affected their lives. Do whatever you can to increase your knowledge, since knowledge diminishes fear and helps you take informed action.

4. Adjust your personal narrative

With increased knowledge comes the need to update the story you tell yourself and others. For example, if you were in the habit of saying, "I'd rather not know" or "Innocence is bliss", it's time for a change. Try something like this instead: "There's a chance I may have inherited some form of mental illness but I'm not showing any symptoms. If symptoms should appear, I know where to get treatment. In the meantime, I'm grateful for my health." A story like this will replace anxiety and stress with a sense of general wellbeing and peace.

5. Share what you have discovered

The more you come to believe your new story, the more you will notice how fear and denial grip the minds of others. Having freed yourself from fear, you are now in a position to encourage them to follow the same path. Be patient and compassionate with family members who resist knowing the truth about their ancestor. If they persist in avoiding it to the point of delusion, violence or bizarre behaviour, seek professional medical assistance.

Photo credit: "Monsters under my bed" by Kamila Gornia.

A possible narrative for Maude Alice Parker nee Ritchie

As a student of English literature, I am unabashedly influenced by novels. Historical novels, in particular, can throw valuable light on the customs of the past. Family history research is, i believe, enriched by such reading, and has given me insight into what my great-grandmother, Maude Alice Parker, may have had to go through as a young woman in Marylebone, London at the start of the 20th century.

For the sake of full disclosure, the book that gave me an appreciation of her circumstances and a possible narrative for her life story is Ruth by Elizabeth Gaskell. I can heartily recommend it to any genealogist looking for a close view into English country life. But back to Maude. here is what may have occurred:

Maude wasn’t raised in a God-fearing family. By the time she came along, the ninth of 10 children, her parents had wearied of raising young girls. She was more or less raised by her sisters, with the result that her knowledge of men focused more on the potential for romance than on caution and restraint.

When she was about 20, Maude obtained work in the residence of the Viscount Hood at 10 Chesterfield Street. The Hoods entertained hundreds of guests, nearly all of them titled. The servants numbered about 15 and were largely chosen for their attractive appearance and good manners. Maude herself was pretty and eager. She attracted the attention of one of the visitors to the house and was charmed by his interest in her. Without realising that there was any shame involved, she fell in love with the gentleman and allowed him to have his way with her.

Discovering that she was pregnant, Maude felt a mixture of shock and wonder at the thought that she was carrying her beloved's child. However, reality quickly sobered her up as instructions came for her to leave her job. The gentleman, fearing exposure, urged her to say that the child was that of a fellow servant, David Scott Ritchie. In return for this subterfuge, the gentleman gave the couple a handsome endowment which they could spend as they wished.

The young couple moved together into Albert Street, occupying rooms they could never previously have afforded. However, they soon had to face the fact that they were totally unsuited to each other. Maude was only interested in her child, whereas David, who had no time for another man’s son, wanted to invest in business like his father and brothers. It was agreed that they would move out of Albert Street into separate lodgings. In Maude’s case, she moved in with her younger sister, Gertrude. Her estranged husband, for his part, took his share of the money and went south to Devon where he bought property.

As soon as she could, Maude sent young David to boarding school and returned to full-time work. However, she bore the shame of wantonness because everyone knew she had been pregnant when she got married. Unable to find work as a dressmaker along with Louisa, Ellen and Mabel, she sought work as a cook once again.

At some point in his young life, David was told that he was illegitimate. This knowledge burdened him with shame because he was well aware of the disgrace associated with so-called “loose women”. Even though Maude assured him the shame was hers, not his, his sunny disposition was darkened by the ostracism his mother suffered. Moreover, he had to bear the weight of his secret knowledge at school among the other boys, with all their fantasies about pretty, innocent girls. This had the effect of turning him into a more thoughtful and compassionate scholar than many of his peers.

As young David grew and began to excel in academics and sport, Maude struggled with her wish to hold him close. He was her only son and she was inexpressively proud of him. Yet, for his own sake, she needed to let him go so that he could pursue his ambitions and dreams. Thus, when he finished school, she encouraged him to find a job that would take him far from home, far from the orbit of her influence and the stain that was apparently forever on her character.

The tragedy of Maude’s early infatuation [or love, as it may well have been] with the high-born gentleman in Chesterfield Street left its mark on both Maude and her unfortunate husband. She remained in lowly service all her life, seldom seeing her son and his South African family. As for David Scott Ritchie senior, he lost all his money when his tenants were called up to fight in the First World War. Disappointed and humiliated at having to go back into service as a butler, he eventually succumbed to depression and fits of rage, which lost him his job and sent him into a mental hospital for the poor.