The Project Gutenberg eBook of Life of a licensed victualler's daughter

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Title: Life of a licensed victualler's daughter

Author: Mary Ann Ashford

Release date: September 8, 2026 [eBook #79535]

Language: English

Original publication: London: Saunders and Otley, 1844

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79535

Credits: Paul Gault

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF A LICENSED VICTUALLER'S DAUGHTER ***

LIFE

OF A

LICENSED VICTUALLER’S

DAUGHTER.

WRITTEN BY HERSELF.

LONDON :

SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET.

1844.

CITY STEAM PRESS, LONG LANE:

D. A. DOUDNEY.

PREFACE.

In the month of July, 1842, as I was passing the site of the Royal Exchange, then in course of re-erection after being burnt down, my attention was caught by one of the very numerous bills with which the boards, at that time surrounding it, were covered: it ran thus—“Susan Hopley, or the Life of a Maid Servant.” This book, I thought to myself, must be a novelty; for although female servants form a large class of Her Majesty’s subjects, I have seen but little of them or their affairs in print: sometimes, indeed, a few stray delinquents, from their vast numbers, find their way into the police reports of the newspapers; and in penny tracts, now and then, a “Mary Smith,” or “Susan Jones,” is introduced, in the last stage of consumption, or some other lingering disease, of which they die, in a heavenly frame of mind, and are duly interred.

In a short time after, I procured the “Life of Susan Hopley,” and felt disappointed at finding it to be a work of fiction. It occurred to me that the various events of my own life—not merely “founded on facts,” as is sometimes expressed, but the real truth—might afford amusement to matter-of-fact persons. Seventeen years of my life have been spent in service; but as that is not the third part of fifty-seven, I considered that the best title I could give it, would be what it really is—the Life of a Licensed Victualler’s Daughter,

WRITTEN BY HERSELF.

LIFE

OF

A LICENSED VICTUALLER’S

DAUGHTER.

My father, Joseph Ashford, was the son of a barber and wig-maker, of the same name, in a small market town in Shropshire, who, having a large family, employed his boys, as soon as they were able, in his own business. My father, as I have heard him say, by a tragi-comic sort of affair, became a different trade.

A short distance from Wem, there lived an old gentleman and his housekeeper, who, between them, had tired out all the lads who went to service for miles round. Being a customer of my grandfather, he asked him to let him have one of his boys. He told him that he could not let him have either of the two eldest, as they were so useful to himself; but that Joseph, then near twelve years old, was at his service. The gentleman thought him too young, but would try him. The boy, upon finding where he was to go to, raised many objections, but they were of no avail; for a new wig had been ordered, and great promises of future patronage held out, and, above all, Joe was to spend the evenings in reading, writing, and cyphering, under the eye of his master. He accordingly went to his place, where he remained several months, when an unlucky affair took place.

His master was very deaf; and when Joseph took his clean shoes, with large silver buckles on them, into the room, as was his daily custom, he told him, instead of taking away the breakfast things, to stay and drop some liquid into his ears. Now for that to be done, he had to take off his wig and lay his head on one side; and, moreover, as it was to be very gently done, he kept saying, “Drop, boy, drop,” which made my father laugh; and he, perceiving it, went to strike him, and in raising his hand for that purpose, struck the phial out of his hand and broke it. The boy ran towards the door, but before he reached it, one of his master’s shoes, thrown with great vengeance, came in contact with his head, inflicting not only a heavy blow, but a wound from the buckle. As soon as he recovered a little he ran home, streaming with blood, and his father took him to a surgeon, who said, that if the prong of the buckle had gone a very little way deeper, it would have cost him his life. Grandfather then shaved his head, and insisted on his wearing an old farmer’s wig, to prevent his taking cold, till his hair should grow again. This vexed him so much, that he resolved to get away from home, if possible; and on a market-day he went, in a neighbour’s cart, to Shrewsbury, to an aunt of his, who kept a hatter’s shop there, and told her what had happened to him; at the same time showing the wig, which caused much laughter, there being several persons in the shop at the time. Amongst them was a master skinner and tanner, who said, “Well, my little lad, come along with me, and my dame and I will find you something to do.” So the man who had brought him in his cart took back word that he had left the boy, who had got a place.

His mistress, a kind old lady, liked him much; and when he was fourteen years old he was apprenticed to his master, and lived happily for nearly four years, when his good mistress died, and his master did not long survive his loss. A stranger took the business from the next relative, who united the trade with that of leather-breeches and glove-making. Thus my father acquired both, as he was turned over to him; but, in other respects, he found a sad change, as they were harsh people; and when his term of apprenticeship ended he came to London, where, by that time, his eldest brother was settled in business in Sherbourne Lane. In a short time he got employment at Mr. Aubrey’s, in Exchange Alley, where he remained till his marriage with my mother, whom I will now give some account of.

Her parents were both from Scotland, and they kept the City Arms, then No. 1, Lombard Street, which is now covered by part of Smith and Payne’s banking-house; at that time, and for many years afterwards, next door to us. When my mother, Jane Gadderrer, was about seven years old, her father became surety for a man, who soon after went to America, and he had to pay a sum which left him almost penniless; which took such an effect on him, as he was strictly honourable, that he died in a few months after, leaving my grandmother involved in serious difficulties. A meeting of creditors took place, and they were very good and kind, particularly the firm of Hale and Co., ale brewers, of Redcross Street; who, knowing Mrs. Gaddener to be an honest as well as an industrious woman, prevailed on the rest to let her remain in the house for a year, to pay ready-money for what she wanted in, and see if, by instalments, she could pay off any of her late husband’s debts. She succeeded, and soon cleared herself. Having placed her only girl to board with some respectable persons at Camberwell, and sent her to one of the best schools there, as day scholar, she was kept there till near sixteen, when her mother, finding her own health decline, took her home; and in a short time after, she became acquainted with my father. As soon as my grandmother found it out, she was very angry, and lectured my mother severely. Shortly after, she had the offer of a far better match for her; but her daughter steadily refused. When she was little more than seventeen years old, her parent died, having first extorted a promise from her, that she would not marry J. Ashford: why she did so was not known, as he bore an excellent character. She meant to have kept her word, and told him so, and the acquaintance was broken off; but he soon after fell ill of a fever, which reduced him to the lowest ebb of existence; and the person where he lodged went to my mother, and begged her to come and see him, as, in his delirium, he called on her continually. As he was not expected to live, she went to see him; and after lying for a long time, between life and death, he at length recovered; and they were soon after married. My grandmother left a will, and bequeathed all she had to her only surviving daughter: the executor was a Mr. Tyce, a tobacconist, of Exchange Alley: and it was my grandmother’s desire that the business should be given up, and everything sold, and the money placed to what she had in the bank; and her daughter to be put to some genteel business. But as the house was in full trade, and selling the goodwill had not then become a practise, Mr. Tyce did not trouble himself about it, nor interrupt their courtship; and when he knew they were married, he wished them much joy, and said they might as well have been united at St. Mary Woolnoth, as have gone to the little church in the Minories; for had they have asked his consent, they should have had it freely. My father was then twenty-seven, and my mother a few months over eighteen years old: and I, their second child, was born on the 30th of October, 1787.

I must now mention some things which weighed heavy on my future lot, even in infancy. When my mother was confined of her first child, she had a monthly nurse, who acquired a complete ascendancy over her: she prevailed on her to let her take the infant to Brentford, to nurse, when a few months old; she and her husband living there at that time; and the little girl died at eleven months old, which I do not mean to say she could help, but she took care to remove, it seemed, close to London, before I was born; and as I happened to exercise the baby prerogatives of squalling and kicking in a very vigorous manner, I was weaned, and taken off by Mrs. Long. Thus, at four months old, I was sent from the paternal roof. My first recollections are, that when I was about four years old, I resided with Mrs. Long, in East Street, Walworth; and I was put to a day-school with a lady who, by the death of her parents, found reasons to commence keeping school, and I and another little girl, still younger than myself, were her first scholars. It was above a month before any more came. In the interval she became much attached to us, and so did we to each other. My governess soon discovered that, in many respects, I was much neglected: I was very well supplied with good apparel, but my nurse’s only aim was, to have me clean and tidy when she expected my father or mother to come, which was mostly in the evening: I was therefore sent to school in an unwashed and slovenly manner, and this happened very often. My governess’s old servant, who had lived with her parents, used, on letting me in, to take me into the kitchen, and spruce me up as well as she could: whether she did it to please her mistress, or out of regard to me, I never knew or thought about; but she seemed to take great delight in it, and always dismissed me to the schoolroom with a hearty kiss. Mrs. Long soon found out how matters stood; and as she had the whole of the washing from the City Arms, she requested my governess to let me bring my dinner, and stop with her on her busy days. This she agreed to; and after that, three or four days a-week, I used to take an egg and a small bit of bread, which was to last me the day. This plan met with my decided approval, as I always had a good dinner with my governess. Here I remained till I was near eight years old, when the lady married to a clerk in the Bank, and went to reside a few miles off, and keep a boarding school. She made my mother a very liberal offer, to take me with her, but she would not accept it, as it would have gone a great way towards breaking up Mrs. Long’s concern; she and her husband having, by this time, no other means of subsistence but what they earned from my parents, in one way or other: their daughter living with them as servant, she always contrived to get the lads employed as waiters, dismissed to make way for some of their own family; and no doubt there was a great deal of mismanagement.

I was then placed, as a day-scholar, at Mrs. George’s boarding school, and very unhappy it made me, for a little girl. In the first place, I lost my early companion and schoolfellow, as well as my dear governess and her servant Betty; then my nurse insisted that I should say she was my grandmother, if asked any questions by any new schoolfellows, or, indeed, by anybody; and as she was much better known than liked, and her husband was known for a profane old sot, when he could get anything to drink, I soon became an object of contempt to many of my young schoolfellows. One of the teachers was a very affable, pleasant person, and was very kind to me, and so were a few of the eldest girls; but taking it altogether, instead of looking upon school as a place of refuge, I hated to go near it. At home, Mr. and Mrs. Long used to quarrel dreadfully, and many other things very disagreeable; amongst which was being sent out on small errands, on credit; and I used to dread meeting any of my schoolfellows in the different shops. I think my first prayer to Heaven, that came from my heart in sincerity and truth, took place as I stood shivering at a grocer’s shop window, while a girl I knew was served and came out—a prayer, that I might always be able to pay for what I wanted, without asking persons to trust me. It never occurred to me that I should tell my parents any of these things, for I was strongly attached to them both; and when I went home at holiday times, nothing offended me so much as for any one to say the least thing against either of them.

Things went on this way till I was near twelve years old, when a great change took place; my poor father’s health, which had been impaired by successive attacks of asthma, every winter, for some years, and kept him out of his business for months together, now began to assume an alarming appearance; and the doctor who attended him, who lived in Gracechurch Street, was a great advocate for the Sangrado system of copious bleeding, in most cases that came into his hands; and one day it was a long time before he could stop the blood, owing to a violent fit of coughing his patient fell into. In a very short time after, symptoms of dropsy appeared, and he got worse every day. My mother attended to him herself: business had fallen off; for it was often left to the servants altogether; and it was in vain that the neighbours and relations, both of my father’s and mother’s side, warned them how badly their affairs were managed; everything went to wreck; and I was taken home into a world of trouble—my father was in bed, and there were persons in possession, on account of the creditors; and I had been there but a short time, when my mother fell ill of a most severe brain fever, brought on, no doubt, by the prospect of leaving the house where she was born, in poverty and debt. Could she have found relief in tears, the medical gentleman who attended her was of opinion the fever would not have settled so heavy on her; but tears never came to ease her over-charged heart, and she never got over the effects of it, but died where she was born, in June, 1800. My father, at that time, seemed a little better, and he sent me and my little brother, of about four years old, to Wickham, in Kent, in July; and in the November following he sent for me, and I returned to London, but not to the City Arms, and I found him in an attic, in a neighbour’s house, in Lombard Street, with a little furniture he had been allowed to take away with him. His former master, Mr. Aubney, would have given him employment, but he was too ill to do it; and early in December, he went into St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. My little brother remained in the country, and Mr. Batt, the clerk of St. Mary Woolnoth and St. Mary Woolchurch Haw, who happened to be acting churchwarden for a gentleman parishioner at the time, took me home to his house, and I fared the same as their own children. I used to go every day to see my father, who used sometimes to appear a little better: he was well attended to, and allowed everything he wanted, that was consistent with his complaint, however expensive. On the morning of the 31st of December, 1800, it was settled at Mr. Batt’s, that I should go and see my father, and then proceed to an aunt of his, who at that time was with another female, minding a house in South Street, Park Lane, for a family she had lived in many years, and inform her how he was. Upon reaching the hospital, I was surprised to see the state he was in; his face was very red, and the perspiration was pouring off him: he grasped my hands—raised his eyes upwards—his lips moved—and he seemed to be making a violent effort to speak. A nurse stood by the bedside, and the sister of the ward, a most venerable woman, came forward: “My dear child,” said she, “your father is very ill indeed, from the effects of some medicine he has been taking, and he will be better by and bye.” I said I was going to my aunt’s, but that I thought I had better stop with him. She said, “Go to your aunt, my dear, and tell her he will soon be better, and call in the evening, when he will be more composed.” I then went on to South Street, and stopped later than usual, on account of what the sister said. At about seven o’clock, I entered the ward door; the curtains were drawn close round the bed; a sudden chill came over me, for I had never seen the like before: I went slowly forward—the nurse and sister both came to meet me: “Is my father asleep?” I said. “Alas! poor child!” said one of them, “he is dead.” They drew aside the curtain, and I kissed his cold face; but neither word nor tear escaped me; they told me to tell my friends he was no more, and I went away.

As soon as I left the door, my whole soul seemed absorbed in prayer—silent mental prayer; so ardent was it, that, from that hour to this, I never recollected which way I went, nor where I was, till I reached Bow Church, in Cheapside, and then came to myself, and proceeded as fast as I could to Mr. Batt’s and told them what had happened. A person who happened to be there, asked me how he was when I called at the hospital, in the morning. I described to her as well as I could, and she flew at me in a great rage, and said all sorts of unkind things to me, because I went to my aunt’s: she said, “I ought to have staid with him, and not have minded what the sister said to me about going away.” This scolding threw me into a violent fit of crying, which, no doubt, did me a great deal of good. In the midst of my grief, Mr. and Mrs. Batt came home, and they were very angry indeed that I had been served so, and said all they could to comfort me. When I went to bed, I again prayed earnestly to the Lord of heaven and of earth, that he would guide and protect me.

While so engaged, the church bells rung the old year out, and the new year of 1801 in: thus did I begin a new year, and the nineteenth century, an entire orphan; and surely Almighty God, through his divine providence, has been to me “as a pillar of a cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night;” which no adverse circumstances, let them be ever so trying, has ever been able to turn entirely aside. I have frequently been very poor, yet I never felt any of the real evils of poverty; and health, the best of all Heaven’s blessings, I have enjoyed almost continually.

On the next day, Mr. Batt went to the hospital, and on his return, explained to me that the room of goods, when sold, would defray the expense of my father’s funeral; but that he could be buried at the hospital for a guinea, and then the money might be more useful to me. This proposal, though made with the best intentions, threw me into an agony of grief; and I said, that sooner than he should be buried away from the rest of my family, I would submit to any privation. Mr. Batt finding me so positive, and being an undertaker, had him brought to his house, and on the 7th January, 1801, he was laid in the vault under the church of St. Mary Woolnoth, Lombard Street; where, also, lay the remains of my grandfather and grandmother, my mother, one sister and three brothers, five of my aunts and uncles, and several others of the family.

In a few days after, it was considered by my relations,—of which, at that time, there were a good many, both on my father’s and mother’s side,—what was to be done with me: it appeared that they proposed to contribute amongst them, as much money as would place me as an in-door apprentice to a dressmaker or milliner, for at least five years. When I was informed of their kind intentions, I went to one Mrs. Bond, in St. Swithin’s Lane, who was an old friend and countrywoman of my father’s, to tell her what was proposed for me. She said, “I’ll tell thee what, Polly, that is all very well for those who have got a home and parents to shelter them, when work is slack; but depend upon it, many clever women find it, at times, a half-starved kind of life in those employments. Now, thee art a hearty, well-grown girl, and I think would be better off in service; but you had better go and consult your father’s aunt Margaret, and hear what she says about it.” This I very soon did, and told her they wished to place me out genteelly. She said that was all very fine, but there was an old and very true proverb, that “gentility without ability, was like a pudding without fat;” and she was of Mrs. Bond’s opinion.

I could at that time work at my needle very well, but, at the same time, I did not much like it; so, my own inclination agreeing with their advice, I resolved to take it. I was shortly after spoken to about it, and then I, to the utter astonishment of all parties, declared my intention of going to service. I was sent to a cousin of my mother’s, whose husband was a clerk of long standing in the Bank, that she might talk to me: this she certainly did; and pointed out to me, in strong terms, the folly of opposing the good intentions of my friends: she said a great deal about injuring my future prospects, as I could not be introduced into society by her or any of my respectable friends if I was a servant. Now, I was too young and too simple to understand much about it, for it was almost like Greek and Latin to me: however, I gleaned from her majestic oration, that, in the event of my being out of place, they would have nothing to do with me. I told Mrs. Bond, and she said I should come to her at any time. Just at this time, a man called at Mr. Batt’s, in mistake, to enquire for a servant; and no one being at home just then but Miss Batt, a girl about my own age, I went with him to a house in Exchange Alley, that had just opened as a banking-house; he took me to the head clerk, who said his wife and family were coming in a few days, and he supposed I could do the work; but he never asked my age, which was not more than thirteen years and three months: however, he hired me at six pounds ten shillings a-year; and I suppose he thought he had got a much better bargain than I turned out to be; and I was to go in a few days. Mrs. Batt came home first: she was much surprised: and when Mr. Batt came home, she said, “You will not let Mary go, surely?” “O yes!” he replied, “let her go, by all means; it will soon sicken her, I dare say.”

The next evening I went, and in a few days my mistress and four lovely children arrived; and, as I was very tall for my age, she had no idea I was little more than a child myself, but she soon found it out; but as the children all took to me, particularly the baby, she said we might get on well enough together. I did the best I could, notwithstanding I had cut my hand very badly, in splitting firewood. When I had been there about two months, it was reported in the neighbourhood, that the banking-house had merely been opened to swindle a young man of fortune out of his money. When Mr. Batt heard of it, he desired me to tell my mistress that I must leave her; which I did, as soon as she got a servant. When I left she did not pay me, and I called many times without getting it: as it was above a pound, Mr. Batt said I should not lose my first earnings, if he could help it; and he summoned my master to the Court of Requests, and got it.

I was again pressed to give up my intentions of going to service, but I remained in the same mind, and my relations gave up the contest and saved their money. I got a place soon after, at Hoxton, with the wife of the then head waiter of Garraway’s Coffee House; the master of which house had been for some years, in his early life, my grandmother’s pot-boy. A little turn of Fortune’s wheel brought this about. I remained in this place till I was near sixteen, my wages commencing at two pounds ten shillings, rising a pound a-year. My mistress here made me nurse the child, and do everything that was laborious; but all that required any art or knowledge, she not only would not let me do, but would send me out of the way, with the little boy, while she did it herself. This was done that I should not leave her, or think myself qualified for a better place. In the winter, water used to come into the cellars; and I have been bolted in them for hours together, till I have been nearly exhausted with pumping, and almost poisoned with the smell: however, I was well fed—living just the same as they did, and partaking of whatever they had; and I gained strength in proportion to my growth.

One August, I gave warning, as I would not run the risk of another winter’s pumping. I should have said before, that I entered service when all sorts of provisions were exorbitantly dear; bread was above two shillings the quartern loaf, and everything else dear in proportion; potatoes were from three-halfpence to two-pence a-pound; and I was fortunate to get where I had plenty of all things needful. I left Hoxton in September, 1803, and went to see my brother, who remained at Wickham, and there heard of a nursemaid’s place at Bromley, at a partner’s of the late celebrated Dr. Scott: I saw the lady, and agreed to go for a month upon trial; and being shy and diffident, I, simpleton like, never said a word about wages; and when the month was up, she said I suited her very well indeed, and she should give me five pounds a-year, out of which I was to find my own tea and sugar. I made no objection then, but I soon considered that it would never find me in apparel; and it was too far for those friends who used sometimes to make me presents, to assist me while I had low wages. I therefore gave my mistress warning. She seemed sadly vexed; and I left her at the end of ten weeks. During that time they had no less than five foot-boys: it was one of those places that have got a bad name; and that is worse in the country than in London; and servants are often very silly in that respect, and, instead of looking to the treatment they receive themselves, listen to what other people say. But it was not the case with me, as I left on account of the low wages. When my warning was up I expected to leave on a Monday evening, and I had agreed with a person at West Wickham to send her boys, who went to school at Beckenham, and help me carry my clothes to Wickham, where my boxes had been left; but on Monday morning, Mrs. Taynton told me a new servant was expected by the London coach, and I must leave directly, as she made it a rule that the one coming in should not see the one going away. I explained to her why I wished to stop till the evening, but she said I must go then, although a very wet day. The cook taking pity on me, whispered to me to go to a person who kept a little shop hard by, and request her to let me stop till the boys came. This she agreed to, and I took my bundles there; but at twelve o’clock, her husband came home, and asked her who I was; and when she said I had just left Mrs. Taynton’s, he scolded his wife severely for allowing me to come in; and I found in the contest, that they used to get some left-off children’s clothes from Mrs. Taynton, which he thought might be withheld, if his wife had anything to do with her servants. I begged him to allow me to leave part of my parcels: to this he gave a sullen consent, and I set out in a heavy rain, which was very stupid of me, for I might have gone to a public house, and paid for my accommodation; but I never thought of it. I took a large parcel, containing books that had belonged to my mother, and was heavy, and carried them to the school at Beckenham, and left them there till the boys went home. I then returned to fetch more, and the wind blew high and cold between the showers; so I got wet through and dry again, two or three times; and to mend the matter, the biggest boy had to go to Bromley for medicine, and I was obliged to wait in the road, on a keen November evening, till his return. The reason my boxes were at Wickham, it was Mrs. Taynton’s rule, not to allow her servants’ boxes to be brought into her house, for fear of her being overrun with importations of London bugs; and to be sure, for anybody that is always changing servants, it may be a very necessary precaution.

I reached Wickham cold and exhausted, but I was welcomed kindly, and I thought little of the day I had gone through, although it was near proving fatal to me afterwards. In a day or two I went to London to my old friend, and I did not feel quite ill, but I had some sensations about me quite unusual, though I did not complain to any one, and was very diligent in seeking for a place. And I got one to go to on the third of December, with an old lady who lived in the City Terrace, in the City Road.

In the night of the second of December I was awoke with an excruciating pain in the left side of my head and ear, which almost distracted me, and in the forenoon Mrs. Bond, seeing I was really ill, made me lie down, and put something she had for the tooth-ache on some cotton into my ear. In a short time something that seemed to me like the report of a gun burst in my head, the pain in some degree abated, and wearied out with agony I fell asleep and did not wake till it was nearly dark, when I jumped up and went to the glass to put on my cap which lay on the table, and to my infinite horror and surprise saw the nightcap and handkerchief Mrs. Bond had tied on was saturated with blood. I ran crying down stairs, and Mrs. Bond and her daughter-in-law were very much frightened, for they, at first, thought I had done some mischief to myself, they proposed that I should not go to my place that night, but as I was not in so much pain and a man had been hired to take my boxes, I thought I had better go, as the lady had been a fortnight without a servant, and I thought I should lose it if I did not go at once, so I walked through a heavy snow storm.

At night my mistress enquired why my head was tied up, and I merely said I had a bad ear-ache. I set to work the next day to clean the house, which was very dirty with her being so long alone, and I was obliged to do it in cold water as I had so little fire.

This lady, who was very much in years, was the daughter of a Scotch earl, whose estates had been forfeited in what was called the Rebellion. She had been long a widow and was very kind to me in her manner, but she was penurious in the extreme. In a few days the hæmorrage from my ear had nearly subsided, when she spied a stain on my handkerchief, and I told her all about it. She was so frightened that she sent for her doctor who, when he came, said after questioning me that it no doubt proceeded from a violent cold, caught on leaving Bromley, and had I not been blest with an uncommonly strong constitution it would either have killed me or settled on my brain. He requested my mistress to let him know if it should return, but it never did.

The family consisted of my mistress and myself, and a gentleman who was the minister of the Scotch Church in London Wall: he occupied three rooms, with attendance; there was besides, a monkey, two dogs, a cat, and many birds, all of which I had to attend to. My mistress had very high connections, and used to spend her time very much among them, and she would be away for days and weeks together, and leave me with very little to subsist on, and with orders to give “Jacko” the best of everything, I had once complained on her return from a merchant’s house in Finsbury Square, where she had been for a week, that she had left me too little; and she said, “My dear Mary, when I was young there was a famine, and ever since I have had such a veneration for all the necessaries of life that I cannot bear to see anything used profusely; but you never saw a famine, Mary.”

I replied, very innocently, that “I never did, but that I was sure I should always think of a famine if I thought of her place.”

The gentleman who lived in the house, when he had no invitations, used to dine at home, sometimes two or three times a week, and he seldom ate the whole of his chops, or steaks, and what he left used to eke out my very frugal dinners. I think he suspected that I was kept very short, and was always very civil to me. My mistress had an old spinet, which she used to play on: and I seeming much pleased with it, she said she would teach me to play on it, if I would not eat so much, as I could not learn with a full stomach; but I declined the offer, as I got little enough as it was. One day, after looking at me earnestly, she said, “Mary, child, you would be very handsome were it not that your cheeks are too large; if you would eat less, they would soon be thinner.” I do not think I made any answer, but I thought about it, and soon after went to a looking glass and examined my face more than I had ever done before, and thought my cheeks, which were very rosy then, would do very well: at any rate, I would not quite starve myself to make them thinner.

After this my mistress said she had lost a good counterpane, and the servant I had succeeded must have taken it away with her. As I knew where her friends lived, I offered to go and let her know, that she might give an account of it; for I thought it a sad thing to be falsely accused. She came, and it turned out she had lent it to the lodger, who found his own house linen. This brought about a reconciliation between my mistress and her; for she had lived with her a long time, and they had parted in a sudden quarrel; and after that I had very little peace there, and I could hardly ever do anything to please her. The old servant was certainly more suitable for the place than I was. As she was above forty years old, I dare say her appetite was not so sharp as that of a girl not seventeen.

If she had said she was going to have Sarah back, it would have been all very well, and she need not have fallen out with me; but I am sorry to say that many ladies, when they wish to part with a servant who is not guilty of any particular fault, instead of being candid, and warning them to quit, they find fault about trifles, and teaze and aggravate them to give warning themselves.

My mistress was much in the habit of buying articles from hawkers at the door; and one day, when she had been a long time with a costermonger, disputing about price, one of her little dogs slipped past her, or, perhaps, the man took it; for though the dog-stealers were not so much on the alert then as they are now, they were bad enough; and it certainly was a curious little animal. However, she threw all the blame on luckless me; and soon after, in cleaning the birds, a goldfinch escaped through a broken wire, and flew out of the window. In addition to this, she said, that when she was absent I ill-used the monkey. Now that I should have been afraid to do, as he was the most vicious little beast that ever was. I most certainly hated him, and would never, when speaking of him, call his fore feet anything but “paws,” though she often chid me for not saying “hands.”

I likewise got out of the lodger’s good graces; for he had a present made him of a nice little cheese, and, telling me to take it down stairs to prevent its getting dry, I could not resist the temptation of cutting divers little bits, which, as he did not dine at home for some time, made, I must confess, a sad inroad into it. I did not think of laying it to the cat or rats, and when I took it up and put it on the table, I shall never forget how enraged and aghast he looked when he saw its shrunken dimensions. When his dinner was over, he went to my mistress and laid a heavy complaint against me, and, what was worse, insinuated that she ought to make good the damage; for if the girl had been properly fed, he did not think she would have taken his cheese, as he had left much nicer things in her way, such as wine, sugar, and biscuits. This was enough to raise a storm, and in the midst of it I gave warning, and left when the month was up; and a weary month of it I had. My mistress deducted from my wages for every little thing I had broken during the seven months I had been with her, and her old servant came every day and made what mischief she could, for fear I should stop; for she knew, though I did not till afterwards, that her mistress had a large sum of money sent her by her son, who was an indigo planter in the East Indies; so she was very anxious to get back to her, and I heard, some years after, that my mistress left her something considerable at her death.

The gentleman, who seemed sorry for me, in spite of the cheese affair, told me to go to a house in Artillery Place, where the lady wanted a housemaid. It was at a West India merchant’s, and I was to succeed a young woman who had left, intending to marry. The lady came before I left for my character. My mistress said I was sober and honest, but I did not attend to her family.

“Dear me!” said the lady, “why Mr. Y. said you had no family.

She then began to enumerate her monkey, birds, dog, and beautiful cat, at which the other laughed, and said that I was to come to her directly.

Here I might have done very well, but in a little time my mistress told me that the young woman who left to be married had fallen out with her intended, and wished to come back; and as she had been with her two years, and I was so young, and hardly servant enough for her, she meant to take her back again; at the same time she would give me a good character, and I might stay there till I got a place.

I went to mind some children for a short time, and then to stop with a lady whose servant was ill; and, with one thing or other, was very unsettled for some months. I then went to reside with an old acquaintance of my mother’s on Snow Hill. I had not been long there, when a young man, a jeweller, who visited them, sent me a very ardent love letter, and asked the persons I was with to intercede with me for him, which they did; but there was something so effeminate about him, at least in my opinion, that I would not hear of it. They represented to me that his parents were in good circumstances, and he was their only child, and no doubt they would yield to his wishes; and when I said that he was only like a great girl, such as I was myself, they were highly offended, and I resolved to seek a regular service.

One of my old friends in the city sent me after a housemaid’s place at No. 10, Lambeth Terrace. The lady, who was a clergyman’s widow, said she gave £7 a year to a housemaid, but if I would take the place as servant-of-all-work for a time, she would give at the rate of nine guineas a year, as part of her family was absent. Now this to me was a very great offer, and though I would not have undertaken to build a house up, I don’t think I should have minded pulling one down for that money, as it would furnish me with what I wanted, without being beholden to anybody. I told her that I was quite willing to agree to her terms, but was afraid I could not manage the cooking. She said she would instruct me. To this I replied that I would do the best I could, but that if I failed she must forgive me, as I was very young. She then asked how old I was; and when she found I was not much more than seventeen, she was very much surprised.

I went there on the 7th of February, 1805. Here I worked very hard, but my mistress, who was an excellent manager, regulated my work, so that I took no harm; but I heard that she used to have a great many servants in a year. How it was I do not know, for she was very kind indeed to me, and bitterly I repented leaving her, which I did in six months, having been persuaded by a nursemaid at the next door, who had been set on by her mistress, who had reasons for wanting young girls who were not likely to be very prying, as she lived in a very equivocal situation—namely, as housekeeper and relative to a single gentleman, high in the law, and who afterwards became a judge, and sentenced Corder to death at Bury St. Edmonds for the murder of Maria Martin. I gave Mrs. Pearce warning, and very much vexed she was; and when her next door neighbour came for my character, she called me into the room, which is very unusual; but she knew more of her than I did, and she gave me an excellent character, in all respects, in my presence. I went to the place the same day, and soon found I had made a bad exchange, except in wages, which was ten guineas a year, and to be raised if I stopped. My mistress soon began to tyrannize over me by scolding almost continually. Indeed, it seemed her only occupation when the gentleman was not there. I asked the nursemaid how she could have been so unkind as to persuade me to leave a place that was to me so much more pleasant, to come into such a turmoil. She said she would not deny it, but she did it for her own sake; for she was a farmer’s daughter from Wiltshire, and had left home through a dispute with her sister, and had come to a cousin of her’s in town, who got her the place, and who was very desirous that she should stop a year in it. The little girl she nursed was said to belong to a lady that was dead, and her father abroad; and that our master was her guardian. He was very little there, and when the carriage brought or fetched him away, we were ordered never to speak to the men servants, nor let them come into the house. Our mistress led a most secluded life. The ladies in the neighbourhood had been very obliging to her till Mrs. Pearce and I parted; and most likely she had complained of her to them, as after that they all seemed to avoid her. We had very bad living; very little meat, and the bread kept till it was mouldy before it was cut. When I had been there six months, Ann, the nurse, went away, and another young woman came. She had not been there long when she observed to me, that she was sure that our mistress was Christine’s mother, and what is called a “kept lady;” and no doubt she had a liberal allowance to keep house with, but was half-starving us in order to make a sly purse for herself.

“Gracious Heaven!” I exclaimed, “do you think so? To my thinking, she leads a wretched life: we might as well all live in a convent. If this is being kept, I prefer remaining among the ‘hewers of wood and drawers of water,’ and keeping myself.”

I made a great many attempts to leave her, by giving warning, and going after other places; but when the ladies came for my character, she always said something that broke it off. Amongst many others was Mrs. Radcliff, the authoress, who lived on China Terrace: she told her that I was sober and honest, but that I was much younger than I looked to be, “and was very thoughtless; which the lady said would not suit her, as her time was otherwise engaged than looking after maids. I was sadly vexed, and had it not been for the sweet little Christine, whose baby affection was my chief pleasure, as she had never taken kindly to her new nurse, she was set down to needle work, and the child used to play about with me, while I did my work; and Heaven knows how much longer I should have been there, had not a lady in Canterbury Place, just opposite, married, which made a change in the domestic arrangements of the family, which used to consist of a brother and two sisters, and two female servants. The married lady going away, they were going to keep but one servant; and thinking that the servants who had been there when they kept two, would not settle down alone, they got them both places amongst their friends. I went to speak to Miss W—, and she was much pleased, and said she would wait a month for me, as she had heard Mrs. Pearce, who was a friend of hers, speak very highly of me; and she would not have come after my character at all, only that she did not wish to hurt the other’s feelings.

It was rather curious, I had lived at Nos. 9 and 10, on Lambeth Terrace, which make nineteen,—I went to No. 19, Canterbury Place,—I was just turned of nineteen years old,—and it was the nineteenth century.

In this place I remained nearly three years and a-half: my mistress was kind to me beyond everything, and I had a most excellent place. The starving places I had been in had the good effect of making me really economical in everything that came under my care, and that I had the use of, though I very much disapprove of a famine; and my employers were thoroughly satisfied with me. But there was one thing I could never reconcile myself to, and that was, a great part of the time I was in the house by myself; for my mistress used to go out a great deal, often being at her sister’s for days and weeks together. I was not afraid of being in the house alone, but it made me feel so dull; and I confess, I used to look back and think my lot hard, compared with what it might have been, under other circumstances, I found, (if I may be allowed the expression) that I had “lost caste;” for if I called on any of my relations, if any one came in, I was requested to step into another room, and kept in the back ground, because I was a servant. I mentioned it to my mistress, who, after that, used to let me sit and work with her, when she was at home; and the third summer I was there, she went to Brighton, and took me with her. At the lodgings we went to, in Dorset Gardens, there was but one kitchen, and that occupied by the persons of the house, I therefore resided with them; and there were four in family, besides many acquaintances who used to come in. We were there three weeks; and when I came home, the change I had seen made my situation seem more irksome than ever.

Thus, as it often happens, the very means taken to mend a matter, make it worse. I was, a long time, ashamed to name it, because I knew that I had been taken to Brighton for a great treat: at all events, I stopped nearly a year after, and then I mustered courage enough to tell my good and kind mistress that I must leave her, for the frequent solitude I could no longer bear; and I left a good home.

I had the offer, through Mrs. Pearce, of the cook’s place, at Alderman Goodbehere’s, on China Terrace, but I was afraid to take it, thinking I never could cook for an alderman, as my knowledge of cooking was very limited at that time; and I went as housemaid, in a Jew’s family, in Leman Street, Goodman’s Fields; but, in a short time, I heard that there was great difficulty in getting a place, after living with Jews; and as Miss W— had given me an excellent character, I could not think of losing it, and told the lady I would only stop till she could get a servant, and must have my three years and a-half character returned. A few days after, I had forgotten something I ought to have done, and she said I had not a second idea.

“Then, Ma’am,” said I, “if you think that is the case, I can be of no service to you; and I will leave immediately.”

I think persons objecting to servants out of Jew families lie under a great mistake—at least the Jew gentry; for they are far more moral than many who call themselves Christians. In point of cleanliness, they equal, if not excel, others; their obedience to the Mosaic laws compelling them to have such periodical house-cleanings and rummagings as no other people have.

I went to my old friend, Mrs. Bond; and my next place was with the head clerk of an eminent solicitor, in Great Winchester Street, who lived rent free, and had the care of the house and offices; and his wife and I agreed very well: but when I had been there about ten months, a cheesemonger’s wife, in the same street, said to me one day, that she thought I might better myself, and, if I liked, she would look out for a plain cook’s place for me, among her customers.

As I was now near four-and-twenty, and, of course, as I had gone along had picked up a little knowledge of culinary matters, I felt much obliged to her; and in a short time she recommended me to a lady, whose daughter wanted a cook, and had wrote to her to engage one; and I went to live at Staines, where there was a nurse and housemaid besides myself, and a lad who looked after the horse and chaise, worked in the garden, and cleaned knives; and I got on tolerably well, considering it was my first cook’s place; only I was obliged to submit very much to my fellow-servants, they having both lived with my mistress for a long time, and during her widowhood, as the gentleman was her second husband. They were both much older than I was; but as, at that time, I was pliable enough, I conformed to them pretty well, and thought to stop a twelvemonth.

When I had been there about eight months, the lad came in one day from getting errands, as it was some distance from the town, and the nurse and housemaid being both there, began teazing him. At last he, being provoked, said—

“I can tell you something, Ann and Ellen: you cannot think how the folks down in Staines town admires our Mary; and I don’t find as they admires you a bit.”

I laughed heartily; for he was in such a passion, and miscalled his words so; but I need not have laughed, for I never had any peace there afterwards; and as we were all Londoners, we soon after had a few days’ holiday each; and when they returned, they brought word that a cook, who had married from my mistress, wished to leave her husband and come back to her again; but the master said I was a very good servant, and she had better not part with me; but being resolved about it, she contrived to aggravate me till I gave her warning. I inquired about Staines, but did not hear of any place; and I had the sorry prospect of having to pay my own expenses to London, and employment to seek afterwards. My time was nearly up, when it seemed that Providence interfered in my favour; for a lady and gentleman from Epsom came there on a visit, which they had never done before; and when I retired for the night, the housemaid, who slept with me, on coming into the room, said that she had a proposal to make to me from my mistress, which was, that the visitors were going to part with their cook and housemaid, and keep one thorough servant, and the stable lad to come and assist in the house; they would give me the same wages I had, and if I suited raise me two guineas a-year: my present master would send me and my luggage to Kingston, and they would send the chaise there to take me to Epsom.

It will be easily thought that I was delighted; and in the morning it was settled in a few minutes, and I was to go to my place in a week; and most sincerely did I thank Almighty God, who, it seemed, as one door was preparing to shut upon me, opened another.

I went to Epsom the 4th of May, 1812, and never had so agreeable a change: they were very pleasant people to live with, and I gave them great satisfaction and did their work with pleasure. My mistress used to purchase fruit and vegetables at a market garden near, and she often sent me there; and in a short time the son commenced courting me, and I listened favourably. He soon proposed marriage, but at the same he should wish me to remain in my place for some time afterwards. To this I did not object, as he said it was on account of his brother and parents; and as he went to London with the market-cart every week, he one time put up the banns, at Shoreditch church, and after that gave some hints that we were as good as married. But I had once heard, when waiting at tea, one of the curates of Lambeth say to a lady he was conversing with, that “putting up the banns” was often made the instrument of seduction. This I had not forgot. I used, if I liked, to go out every other Sunday, and my suitor asked me to go with him to pay the ground-rent, a few miles off, which he said would be a very pleasant walk. So it was; but part of it lay through a wood, by a lonely footpath. I requested him, as evening was coming on, and it was so dismal, to come back the roadway; but he declined, saying it was a great way round.

We were kindly treated at the house we went to, and after tea set off on our return. I think it was in about the middle of the wood, when he began talking about a man who had been lately executed for an outrage on a female, and asked if I did not think it very hard, and whether I could have the heart to swear a man’s life away. I became dreadfully alarmed, and, letting go of his arm, which I held, I stepped boldly in front of him, and said, “Ask me no such questions, for I will not answer them;” and I hurried forward, saying it was time I was at home. He seemed rather confused, and was silent for some time; and then muttered something about meaning to marry me; and I was thinking that I would never go walking again without knowing what sort of road I had to go.

Soon after this, my master and mistress removed into the Hackney Road; but that seemed no obstacle to the young man’s coming to see me, as he used to call when he came to the London markets, though not so often as at Epsom. I now began to consider what I ought to have thought of before. I had, during our acquaintance, observed many symptoms of an envious and covetous temper—not towards myself, for he had been very liberal in bringing me a great many things; but in his conduct to, and his opinions of, others; indeed, he seemed to me to wish nobody to prosper but himself; and as I had no property, if I became his wife, he might not use me well.

After a good deal of thinking about it, I wrote to him, saying I thought we were of very opposite tempers, and that I was afraid we should not live very happily together; and if he was agreeable to break off our acquaintance, I thought it would be for our mutual benefit. I wrote in the mildest terms I could use, and resolved to be governed by his answer. It soon came, and, by the contents, had been written in a violent passion; for he said he would compel me to fulfil my promise, whether I liked it or not, for he would come and tell my master and mistress all about it, and get me turned away without a character, and then I should be glad to have him; and then see if he would not make me repent.

This was showing his cloven foot with a vengeance, and decided me at once. There being nobody at home but my mistress and myself, I ran up stairs with the letter open in my hand, and asked her to look at it, which she did, and then observed, that he would make a very harsh husband. When my master came home, she showed it to him; and they told me to let him know he might come to them as soon as he pleased, but that they should take no notice of anything he said: at the same time, I assured him I should have nothing more to say to him. When we left Epsom, the servant lad was parted with, and a girl kept instead: the lad was a native of Epsom; and he got him to come to try and persuade me to look over the letter affair; but I declined making it up, and thus the matter ended.

In a few months after, my mistress intended to part with the girl and keep only one servant, and I declined stopping by myself. By this time, my father’s aunt Margaret had become very old and infirm, and it was a long way from Hackney to Brompton, where she had lived for many years; and I thought if I could get nearer to her, it would be a comfort to us both. I was not actuated by expecting anything from her, as she subsisted on an annuity, which would drop at her decease. My mistress wishing to send me with a message to a friend of hers at Chelsea, I was to have the rest of the day to myself, to look after a place I did not begin to inquire till I got into the City Road, and I made up my mind that if I heard of any that went back, I would not go after them; but what went towards Chelsea I would. I went into many shops and heard of many cooks’ places, and, I think, went after nine or ten, but did not engage with any; there was either something that I did not suit them, or they did not suit me. At a shop in Knightsbridge, I was directed to a doctor’s in Great Sloane Street, in want of a cook; and just as I was about to ring the bell, a cheesemonger came up the area steps; he whispered to me, “Are you coming after the place?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Then you can do as you like,” said he, “but you may as well live with old Nick as come here; for they have had four cooks in three months.”

With this hint I walked on; and as it was near dark, I thought I would go on my errand, which lay at the farther end of the King’s Road, and seek no farther that night; but just as I had made this resolution, I came to a greengrocer’s shop, and said to myself, “I will inquire here for the last time.” The shopkeeper said he did not know of a cook’s place; and I had turned round to come away, when he said if I would stop till he had blowed up his fire (for it was dreadfully cold) he should, perhaps, recollect who it was that had asked for one. In a few minutes he remembered, and it was at a clergyman’s, in a large national institution, which I shall call Fairy Land; it being inhabited, at that time, by above twelve hundred soldiers’ children, their officers, and attendants. I went and saw the lady, and thought her the most engaging person I had ever seen: she asked me many questions, all of which I answered to her apparent satisfaction; and she took my address, as she said she had seen others, and could not come to a decision just then.

In a few days after, I received a letter from her, saying, she had forgotten what I had said, and requesting me to answer her letter soon, and state all I had said at our interview. This I did to the best of my ability, and she expressed herself satisfied in a letter she wrote to my mistress, whom I had lived with a year and nine months, for my character, and it was answered highly in my favour; and I made sure that it was so far settled, and expected a notice when to go: but in a few days, just after a postman’s knock, I was summoned to the parlour, and informed that my master had received a letter from the gentleman whose family I had lived in at Staines, saying that a person at Chelsea had written to him to know if a young woman named Mary Ann Ashford had lived in their service—for I had mentioned it to the lady when she asked me where I had lived previously to living at Hackney, and likewise that her letter expressed a suspicion that we were a set of impostors altogether, and that Mrs. R. and himself thought it very unladylike conduct indeed, and they would recommend me to go to Mrs. R.’s mother, who just then wanted a servant, and hers was a very good place. But it so happened that she was a lady I did not at all like, and I had taken a great fancy to the Chelsea lady; so for all what my master and mistress said, I set off without delay for Chelsea, and told the lady she had better have come herself, or sent some one for my character, instead of writing, as my mistress was to be seen at any time she chose to appoint. This she however declined, and we agreed that I was to go to her on the same day that I quitted the Hackney Road, which I did on the 12th of February, 1814, and entered Fairy Land gate with about nine pounds in money, and a good stock of useful clothes in my possession; for I was never given to fine dressing.

When I had been there a few days, I thought I should have been stupified; every thing throughout the building was military, and there was such a continual noise and drumming everywhere from morning till night, that I thought when a month had passed I would request the lady to give me the character she had with me, and let me go. But by that time I had become in some degree used to it, and I thought I would stop a year; for they were kind people, who did a great deal of good amongst the poor persons in the neighbourhood. I liked them very much indeed, and likewise their three fine little boys, the eldest of whom, a sensible good tempered little fellow of five years old, was soon my especial favourite. When the year was up I had not the least inclination to leave; but when I had been there about a year and a half, my employers were about to keep two female servants instead of three, and as the housemaid to whom I was much attached was to leave, and there was to be many fresh regulations, I said I would leave likewise, and I went to live at Edgeware. But I had not been there many weeks, when I received a letter from the nurse to say that my late mistress had got a cook who did not suit her at all, and if I was not suited in my place, and had any inclination to come back again, she was certain I might. In the meantime I had found out that it was the rule of the family I was in to go to a watering place on the continent in the summer—let the house, and discharge the servants. I thought this a good opportunity, as Edgeware was not at all a likely place to hear of situations; and as many changes were made for my accommodation, I went back to Fairy Land and made myself quite contented, and became thoroughly attached to the whole family. I went with them at different times to many places in the country, and during the time I was away once, my aunt Margaret died without a will, and what little she had was divided amongst eleven persons, five of whom she had never seen. But I had the pleasant reflection that, for the last few years of her life, protracted to extreme old age, I returned in some degree her kindness to me in early youth; and as I never expected anything from her, I was not disappointed.

In August, 1817, my master went abroad, and my mistress, with a Mrs. M., went to Brighton for a month, taking me with them. This lady had six children, a young lady companion and two nurses, with the servant lad, my own mistress and two of her boys, making altogether fifteen in family. The whole of the domestic work was done by me and the lad, as the nurses were fully occupied with the children; and very heavy work it was, as we were in a good-sized house on the West Cliff. I have often wondered how I managed to do it, and I was very glad to get home again. When we had returned a few days, my mistress went to visit her brother at Sunning Hill; she took the children with her, and parted from me in the kindest manner imaginable, telling me that, if I liked, I might go out for a day or two. I availed myself of her offer, and on my return received from the servant lad a letter of that day’s post, of which the following is a copy:——

“Sunning Hill, Sep. 20th, 1817.

“DEAR ANN,

“I have lately heard that a servant whom it has long been my intention to engage if ever I heard she was out of place, is disengaged, and I lose no time in begging that you will look out for a new situation. She will not come to me till your month is up, but if you should hear of anything in the meantime, do not let that prevent your taking a situation, as the cook can come at any time; only give me a few days’ notice, that I may write to her directly, and tell her when to go, as she is ready at a day’s notice.

I sincerely wish that you may find a comfortable situation; if I hear of anything likely to suit you I will inform you, but I am not likely to do so here. We arrived here safe, just as they were sitting down to dinner; I found little Henry very well, and very glad to see us. George has delivered your messages to him. Beg Tipson to take the shoes, as soon as they are finished, to the Gloucester Coffee-House, where Moses Puddle, the carrier, calls every other day, as they must be booked. He will put Charles’ great coat, and the cross-bow, which was left in the passage, I think, into the parcel. If Mrs. M. has anything to send, put it in with the other things. Give the bit of writing on the other side to Mrs. M.

“I am your sincere friend,

“CLARA C———.”

I think I never felt more grieved and surprised in my life, than when I had read this letter, beginning “dear Ann,” and ending “your sincere friend.” I was now near thirty years old, seventeen years of that time I had spent in service, and never had warning given to me before; and if I had served one mistress better than another, it was my present one. I read it over many times, and was utterly confounded. Had I been accused of any fault, I might have apologised or cleared myself, as the case might be; but I had now no alternative but to do as I was bid, and get another place. This I set about; but I was so dispirited, that when I went after other places and was asked the usual question why I had left, or was going to leave my place, I could not refrain from tears as I related that all I knew of it was, to make way for another. The boys of the Institution made their own clothing and shoes under the instruction and superintendence of sergeant tradesmen, who were allowed the privilege of working on their own account if they had any spare time; and as the sergeant shoemaker worked for the whole family except my mistress, and he was considered a fair-dealing man, he had made and mended my shoes for two or three years. But I very seldom saw him, as I used to send by the lad who often went to him on other business. This person’s wife had died some time before, and I had heard say that he was either married again, or going to be. The young man my fellow-servant, had been brought up in the Institution, and apprenticed to my master as a house-servant; and when I went there three years and a half before, he was quite a little fellow, and his parents were abroad; and as I had been a sort of mother to him, he seemed much grieved at my leaving.

When I had about a fortnight to stop, I gave him a pair of boots, and asked him to take them to the shoemaker, and tell him to put a good strong pair of heels to them, for I was going to seek my fortune. It seems he told a dismal tale about my mistress turning me away, and a day or two after he said the master shoemaker wanted to speak to me the first time I went that way. I asked him if he knew what for, but he did not; and it occurred to me that he might want some linen made or mended, as his wife was a long time ill before she died, and as I passed his door the next morning, I went in. He was preparing his dinner, and had a saucepan in one hand and pepper-box in the other. I said that the lad had told me he wanted to speak with me—about some work I supposed; but I was very busy, as my time was short, and I had a great many damsons to preserve, and other things to do before I left; but, if he was not afraid to trust me, I was going to a friend’s and could take it with me and do it there. He hummed and ah’d a little, and then said it was of another business that he wished to speak to me; the truth was, that if I had a mind to marry, and would have him, he would have me. I was much surprised, and said, that I was taken so unawares that I could say nothing to it just then. He then asked me to give him an answer as soon as I could, and if I should consent it would be no use for me to think of getting another place, and we had better be married as soon as possible. I agreed to decide by the next evening, and took the matter into serious consideration, and I resolved to accept the old soldier’s offer; and when he called the next night, as agreed on, he seemed much rejoiced, but said that he had put so much pepper into his saucepan the day before, while talking to me, that he had spoiled his dinner. We settled that he should get the serjeant-tailor’s wife to go to the parish clerk of Chelsea old church and put up the banns; and when the time of out-asking was up, that our marriage should take place, and that in the meantime I would go to my old friend, Mrs. Bond’s, when my warning was up, till the time came.

But I cannot omit a rather curious circumstance which happened to me just at that time. A day or two before I left Brighton, the undernurse of the lady I spoke of, who was with us at Brighton, came to me and said she was informed that two inside places had been taken in a Brighton coach for the young lady companion and one of the Miss M.’s.; and it was found afterwards that it was to run much faster than had ever been known before; and the ladies were afraid to go by it; and it was proposed, that instead of their going by it she and I were to go by it as outside passengers, and as she had no notion of risking her neck (our lives being as dear to us as theirs to them), if I would make a stand to keep the places as they were, she would do the same; so we both declared, that sooner than go outside we would pay the extra fare ourselves. This offer was not accepted, and no alteration was made at the booking-office.

It was a four-inside coach, and our fellow-travellers were a very respectable Quaker gentleman and his mother. They were very affable indeed during the journey, and the lady said she should like very much to look over the Institution we lived in; and we told her, that if she would come to Chelsea, we would show her all about it, as they said they lived at Hammersmith, which was not far from it.

The coach stopped on the road for the passengers who liked to dine; but we had some refreshments with us, and declined the pressing invitations of the gentleman to take dinner, although he said it should be no expense to either of us.

My companion asked me if I did not think he had taken a great fancy to me. I said, what nonsense it was to think so; just as if people could not be civil without being in love; and reminded her that he invited her, as well as me, to partake of the dinner.

On arriving at Ludgate Hill we left the coach, and wished our fellow-traveller good day; and the gentleman said to me—

“Good day to thee—but I am not gone yet.”

This I thought nothing of; but one day in the week that I had been asked in church on the Sunday before for the first time, the Quaker and his sister, with one of his mother’s servants, who was a Chelsea girl, to show them the way, came to see me. As soon as I saw them, I thought of Martha’s words, and took the first opportunity of saying that I was going to be married in a few weeks. To this he said—

“Is it so indeed? I thought to have had thee myself. Art thou too far engaged to retract?”

I told him I was, and would not break my word upon any account, unless my intended husband gave me some just cause. He seemed very much disappointed; and his sister said, that her brother Isaac never thought of being refused, as he could provide so much better for me than I could expect from my station in life. He was very well-looking, and about my own age. It really seemed to me a very odd thing. I got the lad to show them over the building, to whom they behaved very liberally, and, wishing me health and happiness, took their leave.

A few days after I left, and returned to Chelsea, and was married on the 3rd of November, 1817, at Chelsea old church. On that evening the Princess Charlotte of Wales was seized with the pangs which caused her death, and never was lady more lamented. The only persons who went to church with us were the master tailor and his wife; and thirteen years after, that person became my second husband.

My marriage had been so sudden that I had not time to make the inquiries and arrangements usual in such a case; and I was agreeably surprised, as it had been a venture on both sides, to find my husband in better circumstances than I expected.

It appears, that some years before, he and his wife had placed some money in the Funds, and he expected to be sent abroad at the time. It was put in their joint names, and in order that she might take the dividend without him, her name was placed first, which prevented him from taking it without her. This he did not like at all, so he kept what he had by him, and had a considerable sum which she had never known of. I had, likewise, a little property—some that I had saved, and some that I had left me by a deceased relative. We acted fair and candid towards each other; and an old gentleman, who came from the same place as he did, in the neighbourhood, put it into the Bank for us, in our joint names. I likewise found he was much approved of in his situation by his officers, who were, at that time, all very good gentlemen; but he was dreadfully afflicted with rheumatic gout, which made a naturally hasty temper doubly irritable; and his business was very worrying, for it was no easy matter to keep nearly thirteen hundred children in shoes, and the boys in caps, with the help of one, or sometimes two journeymen.

The children were divided into companies, each having its sergeant, who had to deliver the work to him, and take it back; and as such quantities could never have been managed without the greatest regularity, it brought him, unavoidably, into frequent squabbles with the company’s sergeants; though, to say the truth, they mostly came off second best, for though he was very rough, he generally had truth and justice on his side. But it made me think—“Dear me! I have rejected Isaac and taken Ishmael.”

I must mention, that my late mistress was, on all occasions, extremely kind to me, and the person for whom she had dismissed me fell ill as soon as the family came home, and as she was obliged to work she left in a few weeks.

In July, 1818, my husband had a heavy attack of his complaint; and in August, I expected to be confined. One day in the early part of that month, my mistress came to me, and said that the Hon. Mrs. Spencer Percival had gone to the north of England, and had left the money to pay for her yearly subscription with Mr. M., who was the head doctor to the institution, the Brownlow Street Lying-in Hospital; and he had to give her letter of admission to any one he thought proper; and Mrs. M. and she had considered that as I had but one apartment, and that dreadfully noisy, from being only divided by a small passage from the workshop—my husband, likewise, being very poorly—that it would be much better for me to go: there, as I should be far better accommodated than I could possibly be at home, if I chose to avail myself of the offer. I expressed myself very much obliged to her, and she desired me to consult my husband, saying she would call again the next day, which she did, bringing the letter with her. It was on Thursday; and the next day, Friday, being the one on which the weekly committee sat, I was obliged to take it, that it might go through the necessary forms, previous to my admission.

I dreamed that night, that I was going through Chelsea market, and was much annoyed and frightened by a porcupine, which lay at my feet, and its quills kept going off like squibs; and all attempts to get away from it were vain: at last, I thought it burst suddenly open, and the face of a very cross, ugly, old man came forth. I just then awoke, and a dreadful fright I was in. By twelve o’clock the next day I was to be at Brownlow Street, and it being a very hot day, I was much tired with walking there, as omnibuses had not come up then. There were several other women there, each of whom was called into the committee room separately. When it came to my turn, I went in, and at the head of the table, round which sat four or five gentlemen, there was (or, at least, I thought so) the very cross, ugly face I saw in my dream the night before. I was called forward, but all presence of mind and self-possession had forsaken me: I trembled, and was much confused. The gentleman (who, I think, they called Sir William Knatchbull, or something like it) said in a stern manner,

“Why is this letter not signed by the Hon. Mrs. Percival, but by a Mr. M.?—Pray, who and what is he?”

I stammered out that he was the head doctor of the Duke of York’s School, and His Royal Highness’s medical attendant.

“We don’t care for the Duke of York, here, nor anybody else,” said he; “the rules must be complied with. Where is Mrs. Percival?”

I replied, “Gone to Northumberland.”

The other gentlemen looked as if they were sorry for me, and one of them said, “Why, I understand Mr. M. paid the yearly subscription of five guineas, last week.”

Sir William then asked, in a very rude, coarse manner, when I expected to be confined.

I said, “The latter end of the month.”

“Oh! plenty of time,” said he; “here, take it back to Mr. M., and tell him to send it into the north, and have it signed by the lady in a proper manner, and bring it back next week.”

Here another gentleman interposed, saying, that as Mr. M. paid the money, and the lady was so far away, they might, without any impropriety, accept his signature. But he was inexorable, and I left Brownlow Street very much vexed; and, what was very annoying, the other persons, whose letters had passed, went, as is customary, to Bow Street to swear to their marriage certificates; and as they could not tell what passed in the committee room, or why I did not go with the rest, stared me quite out of countenance. I did not get home till near tea-time; and whether the long walk and agitation I had undergone made any difference, I do not know, but I was taken ill the next day; and on Monday, the 17th of August, my first child, a female, was born. The Brownlow Street letter had been sent off on the Saturday, and was returned the next week—too late, of course; and the lady was so much offended, that she placed her subscription to some of the other hospitals.

At the latter end of the same week, an order was issued that every part of the building should be made as clean and correct as possible, as some of the Royal Family were coming to inspect it on Saturday, the 22nd instant. On the morning of that day, it was announced that it was His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent, and his newly-married Duchess, who were coming. As they were sure to visit the trade shops, and it was a very hot day, I had the room door open; and being up and very well at the time, I stood by the window, which was near, in order that I might see them as they crossed the passage. As they passed on, I heard a gentleman,—who, I afterwards found, was the Duke,—say to Mr. M.,—for all the officers of the house accompanied them,—“Surely, that is not an invalid in the room!”

As they went on, I did not hear what answer was made; but it appeared that His Royal Highness, who was a most particular man, was very much pleased with the order and regularity of the workshop, and made many inquiries as to my husband’s regiment, if he had a family, and so on; the result of which was, that on returning, the whole party came into the room, and I was requested to take my little girl from the cradle, that the Duchess might see her, as she had been born on her birthday: they seemed much pleased, and spoke to me in the kindest manner imaginable. After they had left the room, one of the gentlemen came back, and said I was to name the baby Victoria Louisa Maria, after Her Royal Highness, and left a present to place in her little hand. I had, strangely enough, intended to name her Charlotte, in remembrance of the Princess, who died just after my marriage. In three weeks after, my late master, the clergyman of the place, went to Chelsea church and christened my little girl by the names ordered.

When she was about nine months old, the mother of my late mistress, a most amiable lady, called on me, and inquired if I had taken the baby to Kensington Palace. I said, “No!” for I could not think of taking her, unless sent for. She said that was nonsense; for, as the Duchess was near her confinement, she was sure, as little Victoria was a fine healthy child, she would be very glad to see her; and that if I let any opportunity slip of reminding her royal godmother of her, I should be standing in my own child’s light, which she would not forget to tell me of, if she lived to grow up.

I thought over what the lady had said, and as it was only a pleasant walk to the palace, I took her one day there; and the porter having caused a communication to be made to a lady in waiting, I saw the Duchess, and well she seemed pleased with her little namesake, and I was delighted with the familiar and kind notice she took of her. This was about a week before the birth of the Princess Victoria.

In the January of 1820, my husband was dangerously ill, and before he recovered, on the 12th of February, late in the evening, I became aware that I must procure assistance, for my husband was too ill to go; and as I crossed the playground to call a neighbour, the bells were tolling heavily for the funeral of His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent; and I could not help crying bitterly, when I thought of the only time I ever saw him, when his extreme condescension was enough to inspire respect and gratitude in any mind: then I had heard that his fine frame and robust health had, like my own poor father’s, fallen a sacrifice to the too free use of the lancet. The state of my own husband was such, that my forebodings were of a very melancholy nature. At an early hour on the morning of the 13th of February, I became the mother of a boy, whom I named Edward, for my own pleasure, as I had named my girl Victoria for theirs.

Time rolled on, and my family kept increasing, and my husband’s health was very precarious; and I had no other prospect than that of being left with his children to rear. I used to take Victoria to Kensington about once a year, merely that the Duchess should remember her; as I thought she might, at some future time, take her into her service, or put her forward, without putting herself out of the way. Sometimes she used to see her, and always seemed pleased to find that she grew and was well taken care of; and finally, ordered that she should have a present annually, on the Princess Victoria’s birthday, the 24th of May.

As I felt convinced that very few men would, while suffering almost continually from a most painful complaint, have exerted themselves as my husband did for the sake of his wife and children, I thought the least I could do was to be as economical as possible, and to take every opportunity of saving all I could against the evil day and heavy cloud I saw ready to burst over me. One very good thing was, that my husband and I were thoroughly agreed in everything that was essential. My plan did not gain any approbation amongst those my lot was cast with; for, with very few exceptions, military people, above all others, spend all they get, be it little or much: but that I did not care a straw about. We had been married above eleven years, and had four children, and buried one at two years old.

My sixth child was born the 19th of February, 1829, and on the 21st my husband took to his bed, from which he was never more to rise; and having but one apartment, I was compelled to get up much sooner than usual, and attend to him night and day till he died, on the 31st of March, 1829. I had then an infant, six weeks old, and four besides, all boys but Victoria, who was now about ten years and a half old. I had been, as far as circumstances would allow, most kindly considered, and my husband during his long illness had received the most unremitting care and attention from Mr. Lawrence, the medical gentleman belonging to the Institution; and, indeed, so at different times had all my family—Victoria in particular, who had nearly lost her life in the measles, and some years after in the hooping cough. And he allowed me a week, which was longer time than is usual there, to prepare mourning for my family before my husband was buried in Chelsea churchyard; and in another week I had to leave Fairy Land, and seek an asylum elsewhere. In the meantime some of my husband’s acquaintance set about that I had got an immense sum of money; a report was raised to double and treble what I really had; but as I did not choose to gratify their curiosity, I merely said I should be very much obliged to any of them who would tell me where I could find it.

My husband had an excellent private connection, and had I been in a shop in the neighbourhood, and got a person who would have done me justice into my employ, I could have supported my family well; but that was out of the question. It so happened that I had never before had to seek a lodging, and I took a small house a little way off, and went to it in a fortnight after my husband’s death. I have often thought that I should have gone into some country place, where rent and provisions were cheap; then I thought, as my husband was sixteen years in his place, and had he left it alive would have had some allowance made him, that with my large young family I might get some assistance from the commissioners of Fairy Land. But my application was refused in a sneering sort of way, and I soon perceived that it was thought I had got more than I had a right to, hard as I had strived to get it together. I was advised by some who knew me to go into business, but as I was quite ignorant of everything of the kind, I was afraid to risk what was to bring my children up with. There was a little berth in Fairy Land to supply the boys with fruit and cakes; this was likely to become vacant by its possessor having become very infirm, and I applied for it. Some time passed and I heard nothing of it, so I thought no more about it. The time came that my girl received her yearly present, and when the Duchess heard of my misfortune, she sent me a handsome present, and Victoria’s yearly gift was to be increased. I felt very grateful towards her, for hers seemed the only hand that was stretched forth in kindness towards me. I saw an advertisement of a public house to be let, and I went to Union Street, Southwark, according to the address, and was referred to a street in Wapping. I went to the house, but did not approve of it; and as I returned I thought I would go to the counting-house of Barclay and Perkins, and inquire for a house a little way out of town. Not knowing exactly where it was, I went into a spirit shop to inquire, and the barmaid said it was at the bottom of the street; but just then she looked at the clock, and told me that I should be too late, as they never did any business after four o’clock; and as it did not want above a minute or two, and with the child in my arms, I could not get there in time, I went home, thinking to go again in a day or two. But the next day I was informed that the little matter I had applied for at Fairy Land was at my service. To accept this humble occupation I had to crush all the pride I had, which was very little, still it was a bitter pill; but I considered that if I gained little, I could not lose much. Had I known the terms I was to have it on, I certainly would not have accepted it; as another person who was a maker of sweetmeats was admitted, and I stood no chance with such a competition.

About that time I heard of a vacancy in an excellent foundation school for a boy, and I set about trying to get one of mine in. It happened to be Alderman Birch who had the presentation, and his son was rector of St. Mary Woolnoth; and some of the inhabitants who had known me when a child, took up my cause, and got a petition to the alderman, signed by the bankers, and, indeed, all the influential gentlemen of the neighbourhood. I succeeded in getting in my second boy Joseph, then seven years old. Thus I received a benefit when a widow, where I had been cast forth an orphan. This school had been the entire gift of a lady in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and as one of the qualifications was, that no person who was so poor as to receive parochial relief was to have her children admitted, I considered my child quite eligible. If it had been in the hands of any other alderman, I certainly should not have got it; for there were many other competitors.

I have mentioned the serjeant tailor and his wife as being the only persons present at my marriage, and they were my husband’s particular acquaintance; the men, having been in the same regiment, were more like brothers than anything else. I sustained a heavy loss in her death, which took place when I had been about four years married. In due time he married again to an elderly woman who had some inward complaint, of which she died in two years an a half. After a time he married again to a middle-aged woman, and she fell into ill health some time before my husband died, and in a few months after he became a widower again. In his second wife’s time, we had been neighbourly, but not so intimate as before; and in the third wife’s time some differences had arisen between the two friends, through my husband wishing to recommend him a wife that he did not approve of. But this did not extend to me, and I had remained on good terms with them both. After her death he was very uncomfortably situated; the persons about him were of intemperate habits, and he did not go out to get what would hurt him, but he had not resolution to withstand it when brought to him, and his health became much impaired. He proposed marriage to me, as he said he knew I should do my duty by him, and he could assist me in rearing his old comrade’s children. I thought this was true, and that it would be a mutual benefit; and we were married at St. Margaret’s, Westminster, on the 15th of June, 1830, after being a widow fifteen months. Directly after, I was informed that I must not bring any of my children into Fairy Land. This seemed very hard, for I did not wish to bring more than two. My eldest boy was in the country, my second was at the school, the baby had died in teething, and Victoria and a boy of five years old were all I wished to live with me. As my husband was near seventy years of age, and ailing, I wished to trouble him as little as possible with them; but finding such harsh orders had been given, I placed the boy to nurse, and Victoria went to school, and came to me only for her meals; but this was thought too much indulgence, and the gate porter had orders not to let her in, or if she came in to her mother he was to follow her and turn her out, on account of her having brought in five or six little halfpenny paper kites at the request of the boys; at the same time there was scarcely a person in the place but what had done the same, and indeed some people had sold them to the children. My feelings on the occasion may be better imagined than described. I had, for the sake of my children, entered what might almost be termed a sepulchre; for I had seen three women, all of whom I knew well, carried dead out of it; and it was hard indeed either to be parted from my children, or my husband to give up his situation. From what I heard I felt convinced that it was brought about in some measure by some persons who wished to get hold of his berth; for he had said to some one after the death of his wife, that he thought of going to the country: and as I was considered to be the cause of his staying, it was supposed that if I was vexed I should induce him to leave. But this sort of treatment to me produced exactly an opposite effect, and I determined to stand a siege.

My husband, who now got much better in health, used frequently to say, “I cannot stay here much longer; I am sure to be dismissed.” At last I asked him what he had done that he said so. “Oh,” said he, “it is not for what I have done, but what I have not done; for before we were married, and during the time I was in ill health, I sent in the usual return of work done, and there are many pieces of cloth in the shop that ought to be in the stores made up; and as soon as it is found out, I am sure to be dismissed.” This was a serious matter, for he had been there a long time, and provided he left in credit would be entitled to a superannuation allowance, which of course he would forfeit if he was dismissed for a fault. I told him, if he would allow me to come into the shop in the working hours, I would not only work myself, but get some of the best working boys round me, and if we had but time could work it up. He shook his head, and said he thought we should never be able to do it; at the same time he seemed pleased with the project, and I commenced operations. It happened very fortunately that the number of children was being reduced rapidly, which was much in our favour, as the demand for clothing was proportionably less; and in about a year he had all his numbers right. In the meantime my Victoria, who was always a very good girl, said that she knew I was at a great expense, for I had placed her to board with very respectable persons, and if I would get her a place she would go to service. This I soon did; for I was as badly off as ever as regarded my family; for if a child of mine was seen inside the gates, either the quarter-master or his serjeant, or may be a pioneer, came with positive orders that it must instantly be sent away. This went on for some time, when a little change for the better took place; and I received a hint from one of the officers’ ladies that I might venture to take my little boy home, which I was glad to avail myself of; and we went on pretty well for some time. We always knew that there were three or four candidates on the spot, looking out for my husband’s place; but that did not trouble us much. The reduction of the children from 1000 boys to about 300, which was to be the complement (and it took some years to do it), at last came, and the journeyman was discharged.

By this time my husband had as nearly as possible lost the use of his right arm, to outward appearance by rheumatism; but the fact was, the sinews had given way from cutting through a great many folds of cloth together, with very large shears, for many succeeding years; and he could cut no longer, and his returns of work sunk to a mere nothing. One Tuesday the quarter-master came up to the shop to know the reason so little work was done, and being informed, he went away, and returned, saying, the officer in command said he must give up, and get a letter written to lay before the commissioners, for something to be done for him. After he was gone, my husband said he supposed we should have time allowed, as in cases of the kind was customary; sometimes a quarter or six weeks. But on the Thursday, two days after the first notice, the same person came again, and said that a new serjeant tailor had been written to, and was coming in on the Monday following, being a notice of six days after a service of twenty-one years and four months. This threw me into a sad dilemma; for a year before I had purchased the lease of a house in an adjoining street, and knowing from my husband’s increasing infirmities that we could not remain long there, instead of letting it to a tenant who would have required a long notice to quit, I let it in floors to weekly lodgers; but a week’s notice I must give them, and we had but six days. And I was obliged, much against my will, to beg for a week longer, to prevent my having to remove twice on my husband’s account; for he was very ill at the time, and his abrupt dismissal had made him much worse, and deprived him of the power of all exertion. However, before the week I had interceded for was out, we left Fairy Land altogether, I having been there the last time about five years and as many months; and had I but known what I should have had to endure in that time, I would have gone miles off before I entered it. I have good reason for supposing that a good deal of the disagreeables, to say the least of it, that I met with, was from a person who for some years held a place a little in rank above my husband, and who was on terms of intimacy with my first husband. A little time before my second marriage, this man was promoted to a very lucrative situation, and likewise one of a good deal of authority, particularly over the trade shops. He borrowed some money of me for a certain time, and when that was up I made free to ask him for it; he paid me then, and a short time after asked me to lend him a much larger sum; I hesitated, he said I did not seem willing to oblige him. I observed, that I did not wish to disturb my property; as, by so doing, I should lose my interest. He said, “Oh, never mind;” and became from that moment my most inveterate enemy. My husband was likewise very much to blame, as he put up with all sorts of annoyances without complaining, as he might have done, to the proper authorities; and I used to tell him that if we knew in what manner all our actions were misrepresented, we might only be surprised that it was not worse. The letter which contained an application for a superannuation allowance was sent in, previous to which my husband had been examined, and a certificate signed by the doctor to the effect that he was past labour; and as we thought, everything was in a proper train as usual in such cases, and in all public offices. But some months passed away, and several boards and committees had been held, but we got no account of anything having been done for him. During the time, Victoria left a situation, and came home, where she had not been long when the wife of the commanding officer of Fairy Land came to the house and asked her to come and live with her as parlour maid. This did not look as if any of us had done anything that could weaken his claim. But still time rolled on, and we ventured to inquire by letter if anything had been settled on my husband’s account. In a short time I received the following document:——

“Extract from the minutes of a Committee of Commissioners for managing the affairs of Fairy Land, held on the 2nd of April, 1836.

“Read the memorial of the Sergeant and Master Tailor of this Institution, praying the Commissioners to recommend him for a small pension. He is an out-pensioner of Chelsea Hospital, at one shilling and a penny per day.

“Resolved, that the Commissioners have no authority to increase the pension of the Sergeant Tailor, which appears to be one shilling and a penny.” (A true Extract.)

I was quite thunderstruck at this wind up of affairs; for the consequences bid fair to be most serious to me: my husband, who was now seventy-six years old, was quite unable to do anything beyond dressing and undressing himself; and my hands were in a manner tied; for I could not leave him long together; and I saw no other prospect than that of my own remnant of property being melted away, together with his own, in sustaining us, if it should please God to spare his life long: and I might be left at an advanced age to encounter the poverty I had always endeavoured to avert. Another thing, he seemed to be so completely and inwardly hurt, that he was quite melancholy. Victoria had left Fairy Land, but it was with the daughter-in-law of her late mistress she had gone; so that she still remained in the family.

Several persons, who were good scholars and understood such things, and knew us, came and offered their services to us in the way of writing to some of the higher powers; but my husband would not consent, neither did I persuade him to do so, for the following reason: In 1812, or thereabouts, a plan was in agitation to take away the military pensions from the men employed in Fairy Land, during the time they were there; but as their duties were at that time all very arduous, they objected to it; and all the most efficient sergeants said they would resign. As this would not have answered, it was settled that they should still receive it, but that, on entering the Institution, the man’s first quarter’s military pension should be stopped when due, and detained till he left the Institution.

The military out-pensioners are all paid in advance, through the medium of Chelsea Hospital, be in what part of the country they may; but by this arrangement, instead of being paid in advance, it was paid with their Fairy Land wages at the quarter’s end, instead of at the beginning. And when a man left the Institution, he went to Chelsea College, received the quarter’s pension, and was placed on the same footing as before.

In January, 1821, a sergeant, named Delahide, died; and he having been discharged as sergeant of dragoons, had a pension which amounted to eight pounds a quarter. As he would have received the detained quarter if he had left the place alive, his widow naturally expected it would be paid to her in full; instead of which, she only received for the time he lived after the 24th of December, at which time the quarterly payments were then made, leaving about seven pounds odd justly due to her; to get which, she made many applications in various directions; but all without success.

This affair caused a great deal of remark amongst the people, as they were all equally interested in it: and my first husband desired me, in the event of his dying there, which he thought very likely to happen, to try to get what might remain due to him, by every means in my power, unless his death should take place at the end of a quarter, when, for a week or two, as I should be paid to the day he died, it would not be worth while for me to trouble myself. His death took place on the 31st of March, 1829, and he had been paid on the 24th of that month; and I was paid one week’s salary of Fairy Land, and one week of his detained quarter’s military pension, leaving about four pounds due to him, and consequently to me.

I first applied to the authorities at Chelsea College; but there I was informed they had nothing to do with it. I then applied to the heads of the different offices at the Horse Guards, and the petitions and letters I sent were always referred to the Commissioners of Fairy Land; and the answer I got from these used to be, that “although my husband would have got it had he been living, as it was the custom for military pensions to be paid in advance, there was nothing due.” Now, that was the point; for if I had no right to the whole quarter, I had no right to the one week which was paid: and that, of course, made me sure I ought to have the other twelve weeks’ pay. I then wrote to the Commander-in-Chief; and a kinder man than Lord Hill, or one more inclined to cause strict justice to be done to every one, never existed; but it no doubt never reached him, so back it came, according to custom; and I was informed that the Commissioners of Fairy Land had decided on the matter before.

All this had taken place during my widowhood, and it had given me some experience in applications to “commissioners,” “heads of public offices,” and so forth.

My husband’s reason for declining the offers made him about writing was obvious enough: he was afraid that if he took means to get what he was entitled to and had not, he might, perhaps, lose the one shilling and a penny a day, which he had. Many persons in authority, who, from private prejudice, impede and hinder those immediately under them, go on and prosper for a long time, till they meet with somebody who has nothing to lose by it. I weighed all these things carefully in my thoughts, and when we left Fairy Land a year, I formed a plan which I soon put into execution, as follows:——

I went to the house of an old acquaintance, and asked her permission to let me write a letter there, as I could not do it at home without my husband’s knowing it; and I did not want to implicate him, in the event of my being blamed. I then wrote a petition to Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Adelaide, stating all the circumstances of the case, and humbly begging that she would cause an inquiry to be made why my husband was made an exception to a general rule.

It so happened that their Majesties had visited Fairy Land about a month before we left; therefore she must have seen, as the clothing was all new, that he had done his duty. I had waited for the Court going to Brighton, as I thought it would stand a better chance of reaching her there than in town, as she might not be so taken up with visitors. After I had put it in the post, I would have given anything to have got it back again, I felt so frightened; but as that would have been no easy matter, considering whom it was directed to, I did not try, and I was very uneasy for some days; but as nothing transpired, I began to think but little of it. A fortnight passed away, when one morning I was called to the door, as some one wanted to speak to me; it was a person sent by a gentleman, an officer of Chelsea College, likewise holding a situation in Her Majesty’s household, to make inquiries respecting the truth of the statements made in my petition, which, happily for me, had reached her. When he was gone, my husband inquired what his business was, and I ventured to tell him: he was very much surprised, but he could not well be angry. In about an hour after, I said I thought it would be better for me to go and speak to the gentleman, and I could give him any further explanation he might require. I went, and he questioned me very particularly on the subject in all its bearings; and, before I left, I requested that if any charge of misconduct of any kind was made against myself or my husband, he would have the goodness to let me know; but nothing of the kind was done, and I could only set it down to some offence given by myself, in trying to get what was left due of my first husband’s pension; for very soon after I had given the matter up, the Sergeants of the Institution were all paid their stopped-quarter’s pension; and the widows of those who had died ought to have had what was due to their husbands. There were not above three or four of these isolated cases—Mrs. Delahide’s case and my own being the two worst; and I am sure, to this minute, that neither Government nor Commander-in-Chief ever contemplated or sanctioned any such thing.

In about three months after the petition had reached her whom I may well call “Most Gracious Majesty,” we were sent to by the gentleman before mentioned, and informed that my husband was to receive his superannuation allowance of half his full subsistence in Fairy Land, being £37 7s. per annum; and he had likewise to endeavour to get his back pay, as, in the event of my husband’s dying shortly, what had been granted would be of little use. He succeeded; and it was above a year and a quarter, and it was obliged to be paid from the funds of Fairy Land. It was very fortunate for us that I applied as I did, for in the following June, it pleased God to call away King William, of blessed memory.

My husband’s mind was now healed and relieved of the weight which undeserved ill-treatment had bent to the earth; and he lived six years and a half after leaving Fairy Land, till he was nearly eighty-two years of age. And I think the many struggles I have met with in my journey through life, may be likened to some lines I saw in a newspaper, of which the following is a copy:——

“A beacon that, perhaps, another,

Sailing on life’s stormy main—

A forlorn and shipwreck’d brother—

Seeing, may take heart again.

“Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving—still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait.”

CITY STEAM PRESS, LONG LANE:

D. A. DOUDNEY.

Transcriber’s Notes: A small number of obvious typographical errors in the original have been corrected where leaving them unaltered would likely be an unwelcome distraction for the reader. These were:

- “a a hearty” has been corrected to “a hearty”.

- “wages wages” has been corrected to “wages”.

- “shonld” has been corrected to “should”.

- “avery” has been corrected to “a very”.

- “Alderma nGoodbehere’s” has been corrected to “Alderman Goodbehere’s”.

- “ave” has been corrected to “have”.

- “llfe” has been corrected to “life”.

- “him o n” has been corrected to “him on”.

- “oftime” has been corrected to “of time”.

- “wewere” has been corrected to “we were”.

September 2026

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Table of Contents

LIFE OF A LICENSED VICTUALLER’S DAUGHTER.

PREFACE.

LIFE OF A LICENSED VICTUALLER’S DAUGHTER.

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