A glimpse inside my great-grandfather's troubled mind

About 18 months after entering the London County Asylum, David Scott Ritchie Sr wrote to the staff asking for a discharge. His letter was preserved along with the medical casebook from the London Metropolitan Archives. Its content came as somewhat of a surprise to me.

I don't really know what I was expecting, but certainly it was not the very respectful and well-worded letter that came from the pen of this so-called lunatic. See what you think:

Dear sir, I should be obliged if you would grant me an interview, with the idea of determining whether you could recommend me at the next sitting of the committee for my discharge, for a month on trial. My wife came to see me yesterday and spoke to Dr Cheadle in your absence. Dr Cheadle said he thought I was hardly so well as I was a few months ago, but this is not my experience; I feel better in health and spirits than I have for the past twelve months. I feel quite capable of earning my living and I beg you will give me the chance. My wife is writing you on the same subject. Hoping for your favourable consideration. I remain Yours respectfully, DS Ritchie

The letter is dated 31 January 1911. This means David Ritchie wrote it in the middle of winter. Yet it sounds as if he is feeling comfortable and upbeat. His comment about feeling better than he has for the last 12 months is interesting, given that 1910 saw the death of King Edward VII and the ascension to the throne of King George V.

Then again, his buoyancy of spirit may be completely unrelated to the events that took place beyond the asylum walls. It could simply be the result of rest, proper treatment and much-needed support from his wife.

Photo credit: "King George V, 1911" by Dr Ghulam Nabi Kazi.

Found: Letters from the ancestor about whom nobody spoke

It is a rare thing to read the words of an ancestor who lived in a lunatic asylum. I honestly never expected to have this privilege. Yet the casebook which Judy Lester of Kerrywood Research accessed for me contains 3 letters written by David Scott Ritchie himself to the staff at the London County Asylum, giving me insight into both the kind of person he was and his state of mind.

I think I will deal with the letters individually over the next few days. That will give me time and space to fill in background detail and reflect on what they mean for my family. For now, I am going to pause and share my personal feelings, in order to capture the significance of the letters and mark the beginning of a new phase of genealogical research.

I am struck, first, by the realisation that these letters represent the private and most pressing concerns of a man whom I never knew. Had he lived a normal life, he would probably have featured large in my mother's stories, having worked as a footman in Mayfair and a butler in Piccadilly. I might even have met him myself, as he was still alive when I turned 4. Yet no-one ever talked about him, so no-one who is alive today can say what he was like. Now, for the first time, I have a chance to get to know him through his own words and form an impression of him apart from the facts of his occupation and illness.

Second, I feel awed that the letters even exist. As my sister wrote on Facebook, "I'm grateful for the UK's remarkable online archive of ancestry records. It is fascinating to find that documents from the early nineteenth century are available, and the more you look, the more you find." We live in a throw-away culture where letters and formal applications are generally discarded soon after they've been read. Perhaps my great-grandfather's letters survived because they related to a medical case, but even the fact that archivists have taken the trouble to catalogue them and make them available for viewing is extraordinary.

Third, i am moved by a sense of connection with my great-grandfather. It's as if he is communicating with me about his situation, making me aware of things the rest of the family chose to hide. No doubt, they ddid this with the best of intentions, wishing to shield the children from any shame or alarm that such knowledge might cause. I take a different view. Given the increase in understanding around mental illness and its treatment, I believe much can be gained by owning psychological problems in the family.

In fact, had I known that David Ritchie Sr had been committed to a lunatic asylum, I might have initiated the investigation, but I didn't. I wasn't even interested in family history before I started my application for UK citizenship. So, despite the fact that I wasn't looking for him, he made himself known. And now my own experience with and interest in matters of the mind is being called on to tell his story.

This feels like more than just a quest to solve a family mystery for the sake of curiosity. It feels like a mission to bring about truth and reconciliation. Using the letters as a starting point, I am embarking on a journey towards healing in my family and beyond.

Photo credit: "Ancient Wonder" by Lou.

How I found photographs of David Scott Ritchie Sr

The record relating to my great-grandfather's admission to the London County Asylum provided much more information than I had hoped to gather as a beginner genealogist. It also confirmed the fact that this was indeed my relative, as it referenced a 7-year-old son and a sister-in-law whom I already knew to be a member of my great-grandmother's family. The question that still troubled me, though, was whether David Ritchie Sr was my Grandad's biological father. Since my mother always joked about her father having royal blood, and since I love a good mystery, the next obvious step was to find a photograph that would settle the matter once and for all.

I asked professional genealogist Judy Lester to help me with this. She replied, saying, "The best chance of a photograph for David Scott Ritchie senior would be the Patient Casebook for Hanwell. This is closed to public access under the 100-year privacy rule. Although the required information is older than that, the volume contains other entries written within the last 100 years. So I cannot access it for you."

She added, however, that the London Metropolitan Archives staff will sometimes access "closed" files and will extract and send a transcript or copy of any data found. This is a "discretionary" service. Nevertheless, she wrote to ask them what their policy would be in this case, and whether they would charge their standard research fee.

To our mutual surprise, the LMA said the casebook for David Ritchie had been wrongly catalogued as Closed to Access, and it should be open for inspection. Judy said she would try to order it up and see if there was a photograph or any medical case-notes that might be of interest.

Feeling hopeful, I asked Judy to go ahead and report on what the casebook contained. Her fee for this work was worth every cent. As previously mentioned, I am visually impaired and cannot read text from images. Judy very kindly describes what she finds and, in the case of documents, transcribes them for me. Her next email read as follows:

"Two photographs of David Scott Ritchie are attached. They are both head-and-shoulders, pasted into the case-book side-by-side. One was taken on 12 June 1909, a week after he was admitted. The other (better quality) was taken on 16 February 1911. The dates are written underneath.

"You will obviously want a family member to describe these to you and compare them with photos that you will have of your grandfather. To my eye, he looks young, timid and nervous in 1909, perhaps not surprisingly in view of the circumstances. By 1911 he looks noticeably older, perhaps more settled and more confident. He has a moustache and beard in both photos, much thicker in 1911.

"The medical notes in the case-book are extensive. They are a treasure-trove of information about his state of health and mind. I haven't done much more than glance at them, but I see that he was discharged to the care of his wife for a trial month, early in 1911. But he wasn't happy, felt that he needed to return to Hanwell, and did so before the month was out. The second photo will have been taken at that time."

No doubt, dear reader, you are itching to see the pictures, but you will have to wait. They are copyright protected and I need to obtain permission before I can publish them here. You will also have to wait to hear what my family thought of them. Was this man my blood relative or was he not? Be sure to read the next exciting instalment!

Photo credit: "London Metropolitan Archives. A day well spent here." by Andrea Vail.

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.