While staying in London, I visited the area where had lived my Harbridge ancestors, at St John's Court, just off Half Moon Alley. I had already seen on the map that this place no longer existed, but still I wanted to experience being where once had been their home. On arriving at Half Moon Passage I did indeed locate the original place, although it was not named and was just a dead end way between high ugly modern buildings, a place of bins and extractor fans, with not any clue of its olde worlde past. The dead end, once a throughway, was now blocked off by big buildings, Standon House and the Abokado restaurant beside it. Opposite was the now named Little Somerset Street, the same shape as when it had been the original Harrow Alley and Cimber Yard. Yes I had for sure found my ancestral place. Here had lived William Harbridge and Elizabeth née Minsham (Elizabeth being the furest back I had got on my matriarchal line). Their daughter, Sarah, was 13 when she married 21 year old Robert Bunney, a cooper by profession, the newly wed couple also living with Sarahs parents at St Johns Court. I next walked to the family church close by, that of St Botolph Without Aldgate, which I'd walked past a little earlier and had recognised, yes, this was one of our churches. The church was closed, but on the steps sat a bunch of people listening to a man talking. I assumed they were a study group; it was later, reflecting on his words, that I realised this was a guided Jack the Ripper walk. That which I heard: This church had been a hang out for prostitutes, in that they would continually encircle it, strolling round and round, until clients, who were in the know, would approach them. To be able to even do such a trying profession they would drink cheap gin. That was all I heard. I walked around a little garden area to the side of the church, where maybe tramps slept, and as I observed, youngsters were skateboarding in an adjacent park. William Harbridges family, before living at St Johns Court, lived at Cradle Court, just off Aldersgate Street, where was yet another St Botolph Church (there were four St Botolph churches in London). At the Aldersgate St Botolph Church, William Harbridge was baptised in 1738, his parents being William (senior) and Mary Harbridge. When William (the younger) was 23 he married at this same church to Elizabeth Minsham. Cradle Court, I couldn't locate this time round, but did read a reference to it being in these times occupied by warehouses. Nor did I get to visit that specific St Botolph Without Aldersgate church (they were all called 'Without' due to being just outside the town walls). Elizabeth Minsham was 22 when she married William Harbridge in 1763 and it was a quick wedding, by a paid for allegation rather than banns, because Elizabeth was already four months pregnant and beginning to show. It was then at St Johns Court that this family lived and raised various children, in total six girls and one boy, the address of St Johns Court being mentioned in all their baptisms and the church being St Botolph Without Aldgate. Sarah was their second daughter; the others were Elizabeth, Joseph, Mary Jane, Christian and her twin sister Jane. There is another record showing residence at St Johns Court in regard to Sarahs husband, Robert Bunney, who voted using this address during the Westminster elections in 1874. In politics Robert supported Charles Fox who was a radical whig anti-slavery campaigner, advocating individual liberty and religious tolerance. It was on another day that I returned to St Botolph Without Aldgate church; it now being open.
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Back to my absorption in genealogy, I finally completed two website pages for Lndon ancestors Philip Barton and Hannah Bunney, and her parents Robert Bunney and Sarah Harbridge, all of whom I had researched so intensely. I was pretty pleased that my godparents, Chris and Carol Peck (Chris being my mothers cousin) applauded me for this work. They're the only relatives ever to have done so. Even my mother gives no recognition to all I have done and shows no interest. To her I just waste my time. So for someone in the family to say good things about what I do is really cool.
![]() I have another genealogical breakthrough, hurray, this being finding out why my ancestor, John William Harrison, was put in prison for half a year back in 1871. Oh, how so long to find this. But there it was. Being a waterman/bargeman John had crossed the Thames from Greenwich to the Isle of Dogs, whereon he began loading his barge with iron from the Samuda wharf at Blackwall. Half a ton he got into his barge when he was spotted by a man who he then set to wrestling with. As it is said, he tried to throw the fellow in the water and would have succeeded if not for another person spotting the fracas. He was given six months hard labour in prison, hence his daughter, my great great grandmother Maria, having to go into the workhouse at the age of 11, her mother already having died from tuberculosis. And for Maria's deceased mother, Eleanor Caroline Barton, who'd been raised in an orphanage, I found newspaper clips about the Sailors Female Orphan Home where she grew up, of her singing along with the other girls for the public 'Oh Where is the Guide of my Infant Years'. Even back then, when Eleanor was 7, it was reported that one of the other girls of the orphanage had died of consumption (tuberculosis). I researched more, looking at where in London my people lived and what those areas were like. When my ancestors lived at Cock Lane, beside St Sepulchre church, I do think that unlike now this was a colourful and stimulating place to be. St 'Pulchre, as it was known, was right by a prison, the Old Bailey, and the cells of those condemned to die. It was inseparable from those surrounds, tolling the bells and praying for the souls of all those condemned ones who would stop there on the way to the gallows, having a gift of flowers presented to them. But a walk away from there were other homes for my family, in more notorious areas, Field Lane with its plethora of resold stolen handkerchiefs, Plum Tree Court which was an escape route for thieves, and its neighbouring Shoe Lane, being by St Andrews Church, where priests needed bodyguards for this being such a rough place. My ancestress Sarah Bunney died in the workhouse just by there, though of a good old age. She was a survivor, and her daughter Hannah Bunney had by now long gone to Greenwich. AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. |
AuthorSusie Harrison and her hobby of genealogy, always looking into her own and her friends family trees. Categories
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