![]() In London I got a tube to St Paul's, and then set off along the little lanes of Blackfriar's, aiming to visit Church Entry Park, where at least one of my Barton ancestors was buried. With no map I didn't really know where I was going, and then I found an almost hidden little church, St Andrew by the Wardrobe, which I had researched as being the church St Ann Blackfriar's parishioners went to when their own church burnt down in the Fire of London, not getting rebuilt, as the Wardrobe one was, by Wren. I just love that name 'by the Wardrobe' which, as my daughter Ellie later pointed out, sounded like something out of Narnia. Here my own Barton ancestors would have come for church services, though still they would be buried on old St Ann Blackfriar's land. This was such a lovely church, with a lovely feel, and we were much welcomed by two keen church guardians, Singha and Terry. They told me historical little gems, showed me old maps, and amused my son. Such a pleasure it was to meet them. Olden days were so colourful, with dogs coming in churches, and canoodling lovers, as well as people in trouble seeking immunity for bad behaviour. A stick would awaken those in the pews who fell asleep, or keep dogs away from the altar area, a raised fence also having been created for this purpose. So, I loved this little church, a place one would want to visit more than once. I had been directed how to get to Church Entry, to turn left a little further up the lane, where was the Cock Inn, there where Shakespeare had once owned a house. Oh, what history was in these obscure streets where office workers roam. The lane here was Ireland Yard, along which at a little raised park had stood the original St Ann Blackfriar's church, a few tombstones still standing. Around the corner was Church Entry, another raised park, where lay my ancestress Ann Barton, a few folk sitting around on benches. Next I came across the site of the original Wardrobe, a kings wardrobe no less and a nice little space. Upon leaving there rains set heavily upon me. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees.
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![]() Wow, what a breakthrough, as for my ancestor Philip Barton, I discover he was at the Battle of Trafalgar. There was a minimal reference only, but still there it was, P... (indecipherable) Barton, of the right age, 29, and of the right place, London, and his station, ordinary seaman. Clicking for more detail the link was dead. Still, this is momentous for me. The Battle of Trafalgar is ever famous and every brave Brit there was a hero, victorious against a bigger force ie. the French and Spanish, by which we established our superiority at sea, what to speak of protecting our land from invasion for the rest of the Napoleonic Wars. And there Lord Nelson had perished. All so very famous. And Philip was there. I worked more on understanding the lives of my Barton ancestors, who were of St Ann Blackfriars, there where they were buried, even though the church had already burnt down in the Great Fire of London, never to be rebuilt. There is always more to discover, the never ending research. On reading of the Battle of Trafalgar I was in tears. It brought up such strong emotions. He was there, surely he was, I feel it. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. I worked on my website, trying to put together a piece on the hardships which my Greenwich ancestors had to experience, which involved having to download supporting papers and documents. There in the workhouse had gone a lineage of my women, Maria Harrison as child and grown-up, Eleanor Barton in an orphanage, Hannah Bunney in the Blackfriars workhouse, giving birth to one of her children there, which I now realise was at the time when her husband had departed central London for the care and comforts of the Greenwich Hospital. So he too had left his family, temporarily, in destitution, after which they came to live by him, living outside the hospital while he was within, as so many ex sailors families apparently did. And I do wonder, was the workhouse always such a rock bottom humiliation of the people anyway. Pregnant girls whose lovers failed to marry them would find a place there to give birth. People were clothed and fed. Sick people were given medical care. The discipline and regimes were hated, but still people in need would go there. When I see Maria's children going in there for but one hour, may she not even have designed it to get a good full meal in them for once. Who is to know what was really in the hearts and minds of all these people. The workhouse was equivalent to the modern old peoples home too, and in that manner it carries on, as too for a free medical facility, like our National Health today. We look back on it all so bleakly and fail to see what an invaluable support it was to those who were passing through hard times. Before the workhouses, the parish's gave handouts to the struggling poor and saw that they were clothed and fed, like the dole now, not even any work being required and no rules to follow. So I understand the workload and regimes were generally an irritating sacrifice one had to comply with, an exchange of sorts. One irritation would be the harsh discipline within the workhouse schools. A poor child would learn to read and write, but would get whacked about in the process. For girls it may have been easier. Eleanor Barton's orphanage taught her to read and write and how to be thoroughly and efficiently domestic, to be a good and valued servant girl, which was the path most women took before they found themselves a husband and became queens of their own household, he working tirelessly long hours, and she creating a brood of children. If he strayed for a while, if he was unable to work, there was the workhouse, the last resort. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. |
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