A visit to Huntsworth Mews

Before i describe my visit to Huntsworth Mews, let me warn you that this is not an account which will satisfy the scientifically-minded reader. I can't read maps or street signs, nor can I describe with confidence what an edifice looks like. Visual impairment forces me to focus on what I pick up through my intuition and so I'll ask you to be content with that.

I had researched a little about Huntsworth Mews, as reported in a previous post, but that research didn't prepare me very well for what I found. i was expecting a quaint, cobbled street with Victorian row houses, complete with two steps leading up to a painted door. Instead, i found what appeared to me like a yard. If there had once been front doors at ground level — or even stables and carriage houses — they were now gone, replaced by garages for the residents who lived in the upstairs apartments.

This was disappointing because I couldn't see any pretty Victorian architecture on the house fronts at all. Perhaps this was because there never had been any, the houses having been accommodation for servants in days gone by. or perhaps renovations to the buildings had resulted in the loss of old-fashioned details, especially if those details had been too weathered or damaged to restore.

The old archway leading from the outer street into the mews is, however, still as it always was. Standing beside it, I had a sense of what the atmosphere must once have been like. I could imagine horses passing in and out of the gate, some carrying riders on errands for their masters,, others pulling carriages decked out with curtains and plush velvet seats. Inside the mews, boot makers, bucklers, dressmakers and spinners would be working in a patch of sheltered sunlight, keeping company with their neighbours. Mothers of small children would be busy with washing, cooking and cleaning the house, while the children themselves would be scooting round the edges, chasing the odd tabby cat or chanting rhymes as their grandmothers had taught them to do.

Summer time would probably have been hot in that closed, paved space, but winter would have been fairly cosy, especially if horses were stabled under the houses and hearth-fires were kept burning. Maude's family numbered 12 in all at the time, which would also have added to the feeling of warmth.

My overall impression of Huntsworth Mews was favourable. It was a solid place from which to embark on life's journey in the latter half of the 19th century. Not only were the buildings strong and protective, but the community they housed were knitted together in both work and leisure, producing a comfortable and nurturing environment.

Walking in my great-grandmother's footsteps

A recent trip to England to see our daughter gave my husband and I an opportunity to look up some addresses that feature in the narrative of my grandfather's mother, Maude Alice Parker nee Ritchie. I had collated the addresses into a list from census records and other documentation. Google then assisted in the plotting of the points on a map and coming up with a route to link them all. This post is about the route we took, while future posts will detail the events which took place at each location.

Our starting point was Piccadilly Circus where we were staying. We boarded a tube for Marylebone Station and rose to street level via a couple of very long escalators. I believe Marylebone Station is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, underground train station in London, although this would only apply to the upper platform since deep-level tunnelling came later. It's hard to imagine what the old station would have looked like in the late 1800's, given the crowds of sneakered tourists and suited businessmen, not to mention electric cars, vans and double-decker buses that populate the area today.

Following the satellite navigation, we made our way to Huntsworth Mews where Maude lived as a little girl. Not much of the facade remains now but the secluded, paved road is just the same as it was.

Next we walked to Broadley Street, formerly Earl Street, where Maude lived in her early teens. The street is now an attractive residential road, although I have a sense that it comprised much less salubrious accommodation at the end of the 19th century. It has nice wide pavements now and the houses are set back a little from the street, suggesting that the upgrading of the area may have included some demolition of small cottages.

Our walk took us through a busy and very noisy part of town to what used to be the Paddington Green Children's Hospital. It is now a care centre but the red brick gate-posts and facade are reminiscent of times past. This was where my grandfather was born. Directly opposite the gates of the old hospital is Paddington Green itself, a fenced park with very wintry-looking trees. No doubt Maude would have known it well.

Heading into Westminster, we found Brown Street, the address given by Maude on her statutory declaration of David's birth. That was in 1918 when my grandfather was 16. Standing on the corner, I caught a snatch of conversation between two young men in suits and gleaned from their discussion about finance that they were probably in the banking sector.

By this time, it was mid-afternoon. Catching a bus, we emerged at Knightsbridge where some of London's most expensive property is located. After admiring the beautiful facades of buildings occupied by property brokers, accountants and lawyers in Curzon Street, we reached Mayfair and Chesterfield Street. This is another very impressive road, much quieter than Curzon Street and thick with blue signs identifying the addresses of historical notaries such as author Somerset Maugham, prime minister Anthony Eden and fashion leader Beau Brummell. Right in the middle of all this fame and fortune lived the Viscount Hood at the residence which now houses the High Commission of the Bahamas. It was here that Maude worked in 1901 as a kitchen maid and met the man who was to become her husband.

Staying amongst the rich and famous, we made our way across Green Park to St James Square. Our route took us along the mall and the area where the Queen's horses are stabled. There was a convoy of motorcycles ahead of us which could have been escorting an important official but it wasn't likely to have been any of the royals as they are currently in Sandringham, to the best of our knowledge. Anyway, we finally reached St James Square and the address where Maude was working in 1911. It is now the London headquarters of the Rolex Watch Company.

With the sun sinking fast and the temperature dropping, we hurried through St James Park back to Piccadilly Circus. Two things stood out to me from the afternoon's long ramble: Firstly, that what was for us just a tiny part of the city was, in Maude's day, quite a substantial portion of it. And secondly, that the 1939-1945 war must have wrought extensive damage in the streets through which we'd passed although I detected nothing but neatness and order.

Beginning my genetic journey with 23andMe

When my daughters asked me what I would like for my birthday this year, I suggested that the whole family contribute towards getting me a DNA testing kit. I love gifts that are useful, and this one tied directly into my new interest in genealogy. Although the girls weren't aware of the current trend in family history that uses DNA to locate ancestors and living relatives, they readily agreed to my idea. Thus it was that, a week before my birthday, while my husband and I were visiting our daughter Tammy in the United Kingdom, I received my 23andMe testing kit, all neatly contained in a chocolate-box-sized package.

Tammy let me take it out of its bag and unwrap it. Then she read the instructions. The first step was to create an online account with 23andMe and register my kit. That was straightforward enough. An email in my inbox confirmed that my account had been created and my kit successfully registered.

The second step was to work out how to use the saliva collection tube. Tammy made a big deal of this for my benefit, calling it "the medical stuff". Actually, It wasn't complicated, but being visually impaired, I needed someone sighted to ensure I did everything right. For one thing, I had to wait at least half an hour after eating dessert before I could take the test. Then I had to be sure the tube was full without putting my finger into it to feel the level. Finally, when the tube was full, it had to be properly sealed according to the directions in order to reach the laboratory without contamination or leakage.

The third step was an online health survey in several parts. Although optional, I was keen to participate in the full experience so I made a start. The questions ranged from naming the medical conditions I had suffered from to stating my general outlook on life. Some sections could be skipped if they were irrelevant but it was certainly a very detailed and thorough questionnaire. I expect many people would find it tedious. For my part, I saw how the answers to the questions could significantly advance research in the field of gene therapy. Since my own blindness is caused by a genetic mutation, and because there's such potential for treating it with stem cell therapy, I support the ethical collection of research data.

There was a cheerful red postbox outside Tammy's flat where I posted the resealed, self-addressed 23andMe package. As I write this, my saliva test kit is somewhere in transit between England and the Netherlands. There is still a lot for me to learn about the process but I firmly believe in learning by doing. This is an experience which will teach me much, not just about my relatives, but about the whole field of identifying and/or treating inherited diseases, conditions and traits.

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.