It was market morning. The ground was covered nearly ankle deep with filth and mire; and a thick steam perpetually rising from the reeking bodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemed to rest upon the chimney tops, hung heavily above…
Not my writing, I’m afraid, but Dickens (Oliver Twist, 1838). I am currently researching Smithfield Market because two of my investigators will be going there later today, and I want to give an accurate picture of what one of London’s most famous markets was like in 1893. However, so far, I have only found accounts from earlier in the century and passages from authors such as Dickens. Having said that, I have not yet read everything on my go-to website, the Dictionary of Victorian London.
One of my challenges is to describe the same thing again and use accurate facts without sounding like a lecture. This is where Will Merrit comes in. I have fallen on this handy tool of using him to provide Jack and Baxter with background information about destinations they visit. It’s happened in previous novels, and there’s a little bit of it happening in the next one, ‘Acts of Faith,’ which is ticking along nicely in first draft form (see Wednesday’s blog for updates). So, to let readers know the facts of a place, I might slip in a snippet like this:
In form, the Meat Market is a parallelogram. It is 631 feet long, and 246 feet wide. It covers 3½ acres of ground. The architectural style of the building is Italian. The external walls of the market are 32 feet high, and for the purposes for which it was erected it is both in appearance and arrangements a model market.
That’s actually from John Fletcher Porter, London Pictorially Described, [1890], and thanks again to the Dictionary and its compiler, Dr Lee Jackson. Click that link and you will find all his books about Victorian London. I have a few of them and have read others. They are fascinating, though not necessarily my period of late 19th century.
So, my workload today includes writing chapter 18 and making sure there is a PoC (Point of Chapter) so that the story moves or the characters develop and we don’t end up with a shoe leather chapter where you get fab description but no story movement.
I also have to put out the month’s newsletter which will contain this month’s promotions for new books from many authors. (Sign up for the monthly newsletter from the link at the top of this page.)
I’d also like to get to the bottom of why, in my new PC, my autocorrect options sometimes use ‘straight quotes’ and other times use ‘curly quotes,’ there seems to be no rhyme or reason for it. The problem is the straight ones in words like don’t, come out as reversed curly quotes in the final printing of the book and look odd. (A minor niggle, but a niggle all the same.)
I also have some other bits and pieces to take care of so this Saturday looks to be already filled up with work and typing, just as I like it.
As regular readers of my Victorian mystery series will know, I often refer to publications of the time for ideas, research and details. In the case of the currently untitled, seventh Delamere File, I have one of my detectives reading the Illustrated Police News from roughly the time the story is set. I say ‘roughly’ because there was only one copy of that month/that year on the British Newspaper Archive site when I looked, so I used one from a nearby month for the book. Here’s the front page of the IPN from the 4th March 1893:
And here’s a closer look at one of the drawings.
The illustrations were mainly on the front cover, with a few drawings inside, but nowhere near as many. This, for example, is page three of the same publication.
Apart from its lurid stories, what this publication gives me is an idea of policing methods of the time. Then, of course, you have the surrounding news, such as what the weather was like on the day, what was happening in overseas crimes, and, in the illustration, a look at what the scenery was like. By that, I mean, this one has a drawing of Poplar Town Hall as the artist saw it back then, rather than as someone might have photographed it in the 20th century. There are also short, dramatic stories which help give a feel for the creative writing style of the time, but they are also fun to read for the scandal and gossip.
They also lead me to new discoveries, and these can lie among the advertisements as well as the text. For example, I’d never considered an ‘Organette’ until I reached page four.
I’ll try and work one of these into the next Delamare. I often wonder what Jack, Will and the rest do of an evening. I know they play billiards, read, and go to the theatre or pub, but what about background music? There is no music in the house because no-one plays an instrument, and the gramophone was only a few years old. The first ‘records’ didn’t come out until 1892, and the first seven-inch record in 1895. I can imagine Jimmy having a phonograph if he needed to, and they now have three telegraph machines at the house. When telephones become more accessible, they will no doubt have at least one of them.
The first telephone came about in 1667 when Robert Hooke created an ‘acoustic line telephone’ like we did with tin cans when we were children. It wasn’t until the late 19th century that things really started to pick up (the phone), and not until the early 20th century that the call to invest more in home phones was answered. Great technology which, in the UK today, allows you to listen to Vivaldi for two hours while trying to reach a doctor.
You see how it goes? I started off talking about the Illustrated Police News and ended up talking about telephones via the organette. Now, I’m going to delve into chapter eight of the next book, where, I believe, someone has just experienced the first pangs of falling in love, while examining where a woman died in a bath. The mind of an author, eh? Have a good weekend!
Today’s brief chat is about the London Borough of Hackney, Stoke Newington in particular, and in very specific particular, the Congregationalist Chapel on Church Street. This post is also about promoting a local service that has helped me find details about this chapel, and it’s all to do with the next Delamere book, currently called ‘Snapshot’ (working title only).
Here’s how one of my ideas soon becomes complicated.
I wanted to find a theme for the next book, and decided on photography. This led me to some interesting research which I’ll talk about another day. However, it also opened up the idea of a mystery story which then became the plot. The inciting event of the story happens, as usual, very near the beginning.
A client comes to the detective agency saying he has just had a great shock and found the body of his late father in a cemetery. So? Well, the body was in a place where the gravedigger was supposed to be digging a grave for an upcoming burial. So? The body they found has only recently been put there. So? It’s his father. Yes, but…? His father died 10 years ago and is interred in the family mausoleum 200 yards away. Ah.
Abney Park Cemetary
And so it goes on. Just for accuracy, I went to my 1888 maps of London and checked how Abney Park cemetery in Hackney looked at the time, and decided that’s where the body would be found, because I know the park fairly well. (I used to live nearby.)
My map showed me a chapel directly opposite the southern gates, and I made that the headquarters of the vicar who was arranging the forthcoming burial.
Except when I looked further into this chapel, I discovered it was a Congregationalist one, not Church of England or anything I was familiar with. So, that entailed looking into that form of Christianity, so that my ‘vicar’ character spoke the correct terminology.
My vicar soon became a minister, who later became a pastor, as I got to grips with the language of that particular kind of church.
Congregationalism (also Congregationalist churches or Congregational churches) is a Reformed (Calvinist) tradition of Protestant Christianity in which churches practice congregational government. Each congregation independently and autonomously runs its own affairs. [Wiki]
Anyway, the religion isn’t what this story is about, but… For the sake of authenticity, I researched as much as I could about this chapel, only to discover it was bombed in WWII and is no longer there. Could I find its history online? Well, I found some, but not enough, and I became more fascinated. Then, through a variety of search strings, and having found out all kinds of information about the area, the cemetery and so on, I discovered there was a pamphlet.
This was written in 1912 and covered the history of the chapel back to the 17th century, and including the time in which I am setting my stories, 1893. A copy of this pamphlet is held by the Hackney Borough Council Archives Offices, in, unsurprisingly, Hackney, London, and I was welcome to visit during opening hours.
Obviously, I can’t do that because it’s about 4,000 Km, a boat, two flights and far too many Euros away, and I can’t afford that, not for simple background research, so I wrote to ask if they had a digital service. Not as such, but they do have a look-up service and could make me digital copies on request for a small fee. Having worked out the cost, I wrote saying yes please, because by now I was very fascinated, and they wrote back telling me they could do two pages per shot, thus halving the fee, and I said, thank you very much, where do I pay? Payment made, and within a couple of hours, there was my digital file download with the full pamphlet in PDF pages, and how fabulous was that service?
Made more fabulous because it’s only a small team, and all this was achieved within two days.
The front of the pamphlet
So, I am singing the praises of the Hackney Archives for anyone who might ever need them. This kind of service, to my mind, goes along with things like libraries and museums, places that collect and store, thus preserve, history.
And that’s how one idea for a story can lead to fascinating in-depth research, all of which makes the story more realistic and believable.
This promo is organised by Book Mojo and they have a Readers’ Central department which gives you loads of ideas for reading in all genres. There’s also a free newsletter to sign up to, and I am featured in today’s copy, apparently.
I’ve started again on the Delamere Files book five, ‘A Case of Make Believe.’ Now, things are running much more smoothly. Before, I had Jack heading off to Paris and being out of the picture, leaving Will to work alone, and that simply was not working. The two of them need to be together for the tension and humour to work, so now, Jimmy’s off to Paris leaving Jack in charge, and on the day a new case comes in too.
It’s a case of a disappearance gone wrong. A magician performing at the Egyptian Hall, made his young assistant disappear, but unfortunately, the boy never came back. Where he went, and how and why he vanished becomes the mystery Jack and Will must solve. The boy’s older brother comes to them from the Cheap Street Mission (because he is/was a rent boy and is reforming), and the case may well involve some underground work at a brothel, on the Whitechapel streets, and in among the mesmerists and magicians of the Egyptian Hall. I say ‘may well involve’ because I’m not yet clear exactly where the investigation will take them. I know it has already taken me on a journey into the world of Maskelyne & Cooke at the Egyptian hall, Piccadilly, in 1893 – or as close to that date as I can find material. For example, here is the inside of a programme from 1872.
And here’s a poster (not sure of the date).
The Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, London, was an exhibition hall built in the ancient Egyptian style in 1812, to the designs of Peter Frederick Robinson. The Hall was a considerable success, with exhibitions of artwork and of Napoleonic era relics. The hall was later used for popular entertainments and lectures, and developed an association with magic and spiritualism, becoming known as “England’s Home of Mystery.” In 1905, the building was demolished to make way for flats and offices. [Wiki]
I have found a book by George A. Jenness called ‘Maskelyne & Cooke’ which is, as far as I can see, the only book solely about them and the hall, and contains as much information as I could hope to find, down to the colour of the curtains. As for the stage tricks and the magic, I managed to find another well-out-of-print book titled, ‘Magic: Stage Illusions and Scientific Diversions, Including Trick Photography.’ Although this was published in 1897 (my story is set in 1893), the way the illusions were done would have been the same. I now know how they made people vanish, managed to decapitate people without cutting off their heads, and how fairies appeared on stage – among many other things.
In ‘A Case of Make Believe’ the magic trick that goes wrong is the ‘trunk trick’ where someone is locked in a trunk by the audience, and after a moment, the trunk is opened to reveal it empty. The assistant is then supposed to come back in a reversal of the trick which is managed by way of a… Ah ha! That’s a secret, for now, at least.
I am also using newspapers of the day so I can be as accurate as possible. In one early chapter, Will tuts about the weather report in the newspaper, not at the weather, which was bitter and frosty, but at the way the report was written. I’ve set the opening of the story proper (after the ‘prelude’) on January 10th 1893, which is a date that may ring bells with readers who have started at ‘Deviant Desire’ and worked their way forward. (January 10th is a special day for one of the main characters.)
Here’s the weather over New Year 1893.
And here’s where the Egyptian Hall used to stand. I took this off Google Earth yesterday. Good to see it’s still called Egyptian House. It’s just about opposite the Burlington Arcade if you want to take a look.
So, background work continues as I bang out draft one and delve into the mysterious world of illusions and all things magical. Which is a good way of introducing you to another promo:
Riveting Reads is a collection of mysteries, weirdness, horror, magical and all things spooky and dark, and there are many new titles and authors for you to discover there, with all books being in Kindle Unlimited and for sale. Click the banner to see the full collection.
All these books are on Kindle Unlimited, and they are all romantic. Many have an image of a hunky or topless guy on the cover, or else the heroine, because all are romantic MM or FF in some way. As you can see, my Guardians of the Poor is in there with other top titles. Feel free to click through, then click the covers to see more details of the books, and if there’s something you like, head on over and grab it from KU or get yourself a Kindle copy.
The Things You Learn
Right now, I am working on ‘Where There’s a Will’, the fourth Delamere Files mystery set in 1892. In this story, Will and Jack Merrit are charged with attending the reading of a will. Why? They don’t know. Where? On a remote island in the Bristol Channel. I have based my island on the isle of Lundy, famous for its lighthouse, but also, for so much more. To get there, my characters have to travel to a place called Appledore on the north Devon coast. They could have travelled from Bideford, further upstream, but their island comes with its own ferryman, and I wanted a smaller location for the ferry to leave from.
While I was looking at the maps, and reading up a little about the area, I discovered that it wasn’t far from a place called Westward Ho! I knew that that was also the name of a novel., and I couldn’t help doing a little research because the character who talks about this place is something of a know-it-all (it’s not one of the Merrit brothers) and I wanted him to show us he is educated and knows all about this area.
This became a question of what came first, the novel or the village?
Westward Ho! Google Maps.
Strangely enough, it was the novel. Published in 1885, ‘Westward Ho!’ by Charles Kingsley was set in Bideford, nearby, and its story begins during the reign of Elizabeth I. The book was a bestseller, and entrepreneurs saw a way to use it to develop tourism in the area. The Northam Burrows Hotel and Villa Building Company, chaired by Isaac Newton Wallop, 5th Earl of Portsmouth, was formed in 1863, and to take advantage of the Victorian’s passion for seaside holidays, they called their hotel the Westward Ho!-tel.
Same place, 1890s-1910 map
Here’s a small advertisement for it from the North Devon Journal, June 1865.
As if that wasn’t interesting enough, the village they created for tourism, they called Westward Ho!, including the exclamation mark, meaning it is the only British place name to have punctuation. There are others around the world. Hamilton in the USA officially changed its name to Hamilton!, and in 1986, in Quebec, Canada, you can find a place called Saint Louis-du-Ha!-Ha!
Ha-ha! Now you know, and you may well have known already, but I didn’t, and it’s just this kind of unusual thing that makes research such fun.
Now, I am getting back to chapter six of the new book, and will leave you with a reminder to have a browse around the KU promo I’m currently a part of and see if you can find any new authors and titles to add to your ‘must-be-read’ list.
Three of my books are in a Kindle Unlimited promotion throughout March. One of the books is ‘Guardians of the Poor’, the first Larkspur Academy Mystery. Here’s the image of the promo page and the link straight to the exclusive list of titles from me and other authors of historical fiction. I’m particularly interested in the ‘Murder on the…’ series, because of the steam trains.
If you’ve read ‘Guardians of the Poor’ you will know that much of the story concerns the Hackney Workhouse. In fact, the story is about more than that. Yes, I researched what I could about the actual workhouse, as I do, and I realised I’d actually been into parts of it when it was being used as a hospital. The story, though, is also about the Academy and its setting up, and the MC of the book, Dalston Blaze. Through his eyes, we experience not only workhouse life but also we get our first view of the academy, and we meet the Clearwater series characters from the point of view of someone outside of the organisation, someone who’s not yet on Archer’s ‘crew.’ The story, though, is also very much about Joe Tanner, who is deaf, and I put a lot of work into researching what his life would have been like too.
Anyway, the point of today’s post rises from that book, because it’s one in the promo, and because I was sifting through some notes for it, and I found the following. I’m leaving it here as a point of general interest for anyone who is interested in the Hackney Workhouse, Homerton, London, in the late nineteenth century.
My notes, as usual, are taken from a variety of sources including newspapers and journals of the time (quoted), and are in no particular order, and have not been altered since I made them.
Workhouse Details
Plan of the Hackney Workhouse
Hackney: Lower Homerton (N div.)
By 1870s the main block was an inverted U shaped fronting onto the high street. North side, offices and stores. West: females. East: Males. South, a long block with chapel, children’s school, dining rooms, day rooms. Either side of southern block were workshops; stone breaking shed on men’s side. Admin block centre east of the site, casual wards and stone shed fronting Sidney Road.
Roughly 600 inmates (1866) 400 + in 1881 census
Rooms mainly low and narrow but with windows so good light, ditto stairs. ‘A confined air to the whole building.’ Male/female wards on ground floor are dark and cheerless.
I wish that the same could be said of other places where “the Poor Law” is wrested to a harsher punishment than that of the criminal code, and where the grim rule and oppressive dead level of the workhouse ward is but a preparation of the youthful pauper for the no more repulsive discipline of the gaol.
The librarian and superintendent of the Ragged School held in the house that was once the Thieves’ Kitchen, but now filled up-stairs and down with children perspiring in their nightly work of dividing a hundred scholars into classes amongst half a dozen teachers, and distributing the books which they are allowed to take home with them to read.
A blank wooden gate squeezed into a small space in the midst of the neighbouring shops, and indicated by a hoard, on which are painted the regulations for granting medical assistance, and the times at which the applicants for parochial relief will be received by the “Master,” is, as I am informed, the entrance to one of the most constantly occupied, although by no means the largest of the London workhouses, where a large proportion of the inmates come and go so frequently that they might, in some other districts, be almost regarded as “casuals,” and receive no definite settlement in the regular wards.
Christmas at the Hackney Workhouse
Dalston’s Childhood
(Based on a real case)
5 years old. Board of Guardians became his legal guardian when his mother died when he was five. (She died in a fire in Homerton, and was brought in with child, but no-one knew her name and so he was known as ‘The child from the Dalston Blaze’, because that’s where the fire was. The title stuck and became Dalston Blaze.)
The Matron, childless, saw the opportunity to keep him as her own so he was then brought up in the workhouse under the care of the staff.
6 to 13 years old. Sleeping in one room with 23 other children ‘the infant nursery’
Three hours a day instruction in reading, writing, arithmetic, Christian religion at the workhouse school.
Corporal punishment on boys only and only by the master.
Boys under 14 could be flogged, but not over 14!
14 able to work, but Matron didn’t want him going to the ships/army, or to local work so kept him in work on site.
Sleep and beds
Seen in the bare wards, where the long rows of low bedsteads, each covered with the same pattern of counterpane, make even the dull walls more monotonous; in the cleanly scrubbed floors; the absence of any furniture save that which is required for the absolute necessities of the place; the walls against which the long rows of bedsteads stand have been coloured a pale blue, as an improvement on the sickly yellowish tint which is peculiar to such apartments.
Flock placed on iron bedsteads, with iron laths or sacking.
Red, wool rugs (blankets), decent bed covers.
Chamber pots under beds.
Thin sheets.
Very little furniture, no lockers or tables only a few chairs, no mirrors (men’s ward) and no prints/decoration.
Chests for foot warmers.
A metal sink per ward with soap and two combs (shared, I guess), no hair brush.
Towels supplied twice per week.
Dining and food
Allowance per adult person:
7 ounces of meat without bones
2 ounces of butter
4 ounces of cheese
1 pound of bread
3 pints of beer
Children’s allowance at Mistresses discretion
Listen to the murmured talk, which resolves itself into remarks about food; and then remember that here, as in a prison, extra rations, and an increase in meat and the privilege of beer, are the great topics of conversation. Well they may be, for that dietary scale hanging on the strict enough in its provisions, even if they were administered according to the intentions of the Poor-law Board – is at the mercy of guardians and master and matron, and may be reduced so much below prison fare, that life in a workhouse comes to be but a continuance of that struggle against hunger which preceded it in the world outside those grim brick walls.
Some three hundred paupers, old men, women, and children are at dinner.
at a cross-table under a high desk like a pulpit, the master himself without a coat, and with his throat released from both collar and neckerchief- is carving the meat, and weighing out the allowance for each person according to the dietary scale, which differs but slightly from that of the union where I lately made the acquaintance of the pauper of the north-eastern suburb.
Tin plate and cup, wooden spoon
The ordinary workhouse gruel, known to the paupers as “skillet,”
Hygiene, Health, the sick
For every morning (I am informed) the wards of this great straggling building are scrubbed and purified. The thin withered anxious faces which peer upwards from the white pillows, or rest in a slumber so like death.
Men with VD are placed in the ‘itch ward.’ (Small in capacity.)
Lying-in ward (a small room for birthing).
Imbeciles have their own rooms and day rooms.
A kitchen in the sick ward, but food comes 150 yards from main kitchens.
One fixed bath and one portable bath.
Badly ventilated generally, though some has been put in.
Too many men in each ward.
Only two paid nurses.
A pauper nurse and a helper to each ward men paid 1/6d each week.
Medical officer comes two/three times per week, daily if there’s an epidemic.
Rules (read aloud each week)
[These rules from the Hackney Workhouse 1750s, but (in my story) still in use.]
Morning prayers or lose a meal.
Not leave house without permission.
No liquor, quarrelling or fighting or lose a day’s meals.
Work or be kept on bread and water.
Wake bell at five every morning between Michaelmas and Lady Day.
Bed at nine in summer, eight in winter.
Bells for mealtimes.
No smoking in bed or bedrooms.
Roll call at six, one (lunch) and by eight (winter) if not there, punished.
General good behaviour, no telling lies or else sat on a stool in the dining room with a note pinned reading Infamous Lyar and no meal.
No defacing or graffiti.
You must not… Hang washing outside, go through the velvet lined door (staff).
‘When will somebody come and take me away?’
Clothes
‘Fisherman short coat’ (see pinterest)
Wards
The effect of this is less observable in the boys, who are now coming out in single file, and dressed (sensibly enough this warm weather) in holland-pinafores over their corduroy trousers. Some of them are still masticating the last of the most tasty mouthful reserved as the finish of their mid-day meal; and, as they pass, hear a general resemblance to the other inmates, inasmuch as they stare at me, while they ruminate like so many young cows.
There are amongst both boys and girls many sickly, deformed, and stunted children who will, perhaps, carry with them to the grave these heritages of the gutter and the foul lodging-house where they struggled, like unhealthy plants, into such life as they possess; but in almost all of them I am rejoiced to see something of that elastic spirit which shows that here, too, the old suppression of every hope and promise of youth has been superseded by a gentler and more beneficent appreciation of the difference between poverty and crime.
Again, in the workhouses the church bells may be heard within the whitewashed walls, especially in the stillness of the night, and, when they have the long account of twelve to proclaim, how many are lying awake, staring at the dark and listening! In the old folks’ dormitory, for instance, a woeful watch-night is it for scores of those whose shrunken cheek presses the hard pillow, and the more so, perhaps, after the mild excitement that Christmas brings into even a workhouse ward. It brings couples together that at ordinary times the Poor-law sets asunder; and there is the banquet of roast beef and pudding, and the half-pint of beer, and maybe the unwonted luxury of a quarter- ounce of snuff or a half-ounce of tobacco. All very proper and enjoyable to such an extent that for the time being it makes the grey- haired paupers forget everything but the treat in progress. But the worst of it is, after such stirring times, there comes reaction.
The Master
The master is in a great heat from the exertion of [- 71-] carving and weighing, although he is a tall muscular gentleman, with somewhat of a military bearing, and (notwithstanding his open collar) a way of holding his head, as though he had at one time looked at the world over a stiff leather stock.
daily visit to the different wards after resuming his neckerchief, and a particularly fresh-looking linen coat.
Sources
The Pauper, The Thief and the Convict, by Thomas Archer, 1865 – Chapter 4 – A London Workhouse
Mysteries of Modern London, by One of the Crowd [James Greenwood], [1883]
I was digging around my files this morning and came across my folder for ‘Banyak & Fecks.’ This is one of my favourite novels, and the one I am most proud of. This is partly because it’s not like the others in terms of plot. It’s about two people from vastly different backgrounds meeting, needing each other, surviving, and becoming platonically entwined forever. The fact they are both in their late teens/early twenties adds a level of emotional and sexual confusion. What I’m also pleased with is the research, and while writing it, I made some notes about various historical facts and figures that come into play in the story. Even if they are only background, they still have to be correct.
So, after today’s news, which follows in a moment, I’ll show you the notes I made. First though, a couple of other matters:
Helen P. Schrader is the author of 24 historical fiction books. She is currently running a series of short interviews with other historical fiction writers with the theme, ‘Why I write historical fiction.’
On 20th February (i.e. Tuesday) she will have a short piece about me on her blog, which you can find by clicking this link: Helen Schrader.
Mardi Gras Promotion. This promo is still running if you want to see what’s o offer. Head to the link and find a raft of new titles in various genres/niches, all LGBTQI+ and all there to celebrate Valentine’s Day, Mardi Gras and queer fiction. Click this link: Mardi Gras Promo.
And now, to my background notes for Banyak & Fecks. Bear in mind, these are only notes, and they might be a bit all over the place and/or incomplete. While posting, I’ll see if I have any images hanging around the folder that I can also put up.
Banyak & Fecks General Notes and Words
Some are taken directly from newspapers and documents of the time.
Cabs 1879
Altogether there are 4,142 Hansom cabs, and 4,120 Clarence, or four-wheel cabs, in London.
Light-carts
Dock work 1883
The pay is fivepence an hour, and the day’s work lasts for eight hours. It is miscellaneous, and a man is expected to put his hand to anything in the shape of loading or unloading that the occasion may require.
Destitution
Arranged for a plain burial which is to cost 6 guineas.
Let me describe this room. It was the first floor back; so small that the bed left little room to move. She took it unfurnished, for 2/9 a week; the furniture she brought was: the bed, one chair, a chest of drawers, and a broken deal table. On some shelves were a few plates, cups, etc. Over the mantelpiece hung several pictures, which she had preserved from old days. There were three engravings: a landscape, a piece by Landseer, and a Madonna of Raphael. There was a portrait of Byron, and one of Tennyson. There was a photograph of myself, taken 12 years ago, — to which, the landlady tells me, she attached special value, strangely enough. Then there were several cards with Biblical texts. and three cards such as are signed by those who “take the pledge,” — all bearing date during the last six months.
Andrej (Fecks) came from the northeast of Odesa in Ukraine. He walked from there to Genoa in Italy aged 14/15/16 before finding passage on a ship to London.
Clothing
An Ulster: a man’s long, loose overcoat of rough cloth, typically with a belt at the back. The Ulster is a Victorian working daytime overcoat, with a cape and sleeves. The Ulster is distinguished from the Inverness by the length of the cape; in the Ulster, this cape only reaches the elbows, allowing free movement of the forearms.
Pennylicks – ice cream bowls
Graphophone – the name and trademark of an improved version of the phonograph.
Slums (1880)
The yard pump takes two, one to pump while one washes.
Washtop (the copper) over the fire, with tin lid and ‘chumney’, hot and sweaty, used also for washing clothes.
A room: double bed, trunk, table, 2 chairs, fire, candles.
Cheap foreign labour after depression.
40k population expansion.
Jewish immigrants from pogroms in Russia and the east.
Largest immigrant population = Irish, 2nd largest = Russians
Work
Unskilled = lucky to get two week’s work out of a month
Pillars at the docks either side of gates
Thousands at the gates every day
10k people in East End after 6k jobs
Police at gates
Wait hours to rush through, some got trampled
‘The cage’ where foremen stood to choose, safe, while thousands crushed to be chosen
Unloading barrels, bales and sacks that rubbed skin from back
5d an hour
Fecks, young, tall, strong, some English so can better fight for work
Banyak & Fecks leads into Deviant Desire which concerns the East End Ripper murders of 1888 – these, I based on the Jack the Ripper murders of that year. Here’s the front of the Illustrated Police News following the killing of Catherine Eddowes.
Sweatshops – Sweated Workshops (tailor factories)
Refugees met off the boat by ‘sweater sharks’
Wheelbarrows to cart supplies
No pay until an order is done
‘Greeners’ = lowliest tasks, new to the biz
18 hours a day, six days a week, 34p per hour in today’s money
One 22-year-old greener worked 22 hours per day until he hanged himself
Pawn brokers
Trade in clothes to pay for bed or rope house
No tick (credit) for transients
Buying bread and fat in slices from shop
Weekly rents in today’s money £30.00, £13.00, £8.00
Costermongers
12,000 in the 1880s
Eels, five per penny for sheep’s trotters (80k per week sold)
Silas
Telling jokes for pennies – Silas, the difference between a hollow tube and a daft Dutchman? One’s a hollow cylinder, the other’s a silly Hollander – etc.
Showing the rich around the slums, slumming it, slum tourism, won’t make him popular
Slum fiction
Human novelty exhibits
And that’s where my notes run out. If you haven’t read it, and want to know how all those various subjects add up and tie in, head to the Amazon page, add it to your TBR list, read it in Kindle Unlimited, or order yourself a paperback.
You may have noticed that the researchers who work for the Clearwater Detective Agency, Duncan Fairbairn, and now, Will Merrit, often say they have to go to Somerset House. Why?
After it had been a royal palace and duke’s residence, Somerset House, as we now see it as a Georgian-era structure, was built to be a grand public building housing various government and public-benefit society offices. In 1837, following the establishment of civil registration in the United Kingdom, the Registrar General of Births, Marriages and Deaths set up his office in the North Wing of Somerset House, establishing a connection that lasted for over 130 years. This office held all birth, marriage and death certificates in England and Wales until 1970.
Somerset House in 1828 (Wiki)
That’s why my fictional researchers have to go there. However, I was writing a chapter last week in which Will Merrit says he has to visit Somerset House to find a record, and this made me think: how easy was it to find records of Births, Marriages, and Deaths (BMD records) in 1892. So, I asked a genealogist friend of mine, and this is what he said.
Brief History of British Birth, Marriage and Death Record Keeping
Funnily enough, I have had some experience of this, while I was in London with you. (We used to share a flat in Hackney, years ago.) I took the opportunity of being in London to make a personal visit to the Government Records Office (GRO) which in those days was opposite where the BBC World Service was based, near Fleet Street, after it had been moved from Somerset House. So I had to do what our Victorian ancestors would have done.
But you must remember that the BMD records were kept in two different places and there are always two copies, one in each place.
When a registration was created for a birth or a death, you went to your nearest local registration or sub-registration office, which was usually your local town or large village. Let’s say you registered a birth at a sub-registration office.
Baptism record (my great-grandfather)
Your registrar had two identical books. He made an identical handwritten entry in each book. At the end of each quarter year, he sent both books to his main area registration office, probably the main town or city. The main registration office kept one book in its records and sent the other book to the GRO in London (in England and Wales). Scotland and Ireland had their own GROs.
In the London GRO they then made a quarterly alphabetical index. It was handwritten in a massive volume. Every Jan-Mar, Apr-Jun, etc., the indices gave the full name of the person and some other details which varied over the years.
Modern copy of a Marriage certificate from 1838
When you wanted a certificate for a birth, death, or marriage, you had two choices. You could either visit the local office where it was originally registered and ask them there to look it up. You would need a good idea of the date because they didn’t have indices there. They would get out the original volumes and leaf through until they found the correct entry. They probably wouldn’t search a decade, but they might search a year in the smaller offices. They wouldn’t let you do it. You would not be allowed to handle the books.
And then, once found, you could pay a fee, on two levels, and have either a short copy (cheaper) or a full certified copy which was just a handwritten exact copy of the entry in the book. The certified copy could be used in law cases, passports, and so on. The short copy was for your personal information but could not be used legally.
And that’s what many people did for passports. They went to their local office, told them their date of birth and got a certified copy. In the old days, poor families often hadn’t paid to have a birth certificate copy. You registered but went away without a copy. And even today you still aren’t required to pay. Registration is free, you only pay if you want a copy.
The other alternative was to go to the GRO at Somerset House or wherever. But there, you couldn’t ask them to go leafing through the books. You had to provide them with the full indexing details. So that is why the index volumes existed. The public were able to go to the shelves and get out the index volumes. These were big heavy leather-bound books, all handwritten. You got the volume for the quarter you thought was the right one, you went through and identified the likely entry and noted the GRO index references, then you took the details to the clerks’ desks and handed them in. You paid your fee for a certified copy.
What I’m not sure is what happened next in 1892. In 1995 I had to do all that, but I had to give my address and they would post it to me within a few days. Maybe in 1892 you were able to wait while someone did it.
Entry from a parish register 1604, possibly the earliest written record of one of my ancestors.
Basically, a clerk would go into the archives, look up the exact entry you had given in, and make a handwritten certified copy of the entry. Again, you yourself never got to see or handle the books. All you got was that clerk’s certified handwritten copy. He might easily make mistakes and misread them.
In the 1990s things improved because they began photocopying the originals onto the certified copies, so you got to see a photocopy of the original and could interpret the handwriting yourself. Also, when they put the indices online, you were able to send off postal applications.
But basically, in 1892, you either went to your local office (which was much simpler), and got a cooperative clerk to leaf through. But offices might vary, and you might get officious ones that were less cooperative and demanded more precise details. Some might even show you the original entry if there was some question of interpretation.
But if you went to the GRO it was all down to you finding the correct entry yourself using only the public shelves indices. Then handing in the reference to the clerk and applying for the copy. They would not go searching for you, or let you do it. And you certainly couldn’t take any indices home with you.
Birth record of Marie Lloyd (not a relation of mine) from 1870. Marie Lloyd appears in the next Delemaree Files book, ‘Follow the Van.’
The indices gradually got replaced by typewritten copies over the years and the original handwritten indices were retired. But of course, the typewritten copies introduced their own copying errors.
I’m sure that even in 1892 you could pay professional researchers to do this for you. Lawyers did it all the time for clients who needed certificates for legal purposes. Detective agencies too. But they would only have the same access as the public. They would not get to leaf through the originals, except maybe as a favour in a local office where they had good relationships.
Churches did the same with marriages. Churches sent their books each quarter to the local registration office.
Fascinating stuff, and if you remember Fairbairn from the Clearwater and Larkspur Mysteries, you’ll recall he had a way of getting what he wanted from the clerks. I.e. he gave out sexual favours in return for being allowed access to the actual books and records. Will Merrit’s approach is different, but even he doesn’t find it easy to discover what he needs.
What’s pleasing for me though is to see that what I imagined to be the process was accurate. It was even possible that Will would wait for a copy of a record to arrive in the post, as I wrote only two days ago!
The images, btw, are from my family history collection and are real documents. These were all found online in the past 15 years. How the internet has changed things!
In the absence of any bright ideas for today’s blog, I decided to check out my current work-in-progress folder and see what was lurking there. As you know, the current WIP is called ‘Follow the Van’ and the story has something to do with the music halls of Victorian London. Therefore, what’s in my folder, apart from the text files, are research images that I’ve pulled from here and there.
Here’s what I have and a short explanation of why. This might give you an insight into how I put research together, although these images are the tip of a larger iceberg of reading, books, maps and online pages. Apologies if I’ve already shown you some in other posts.
First of all, this shot of the Gaiety Theatre in Strand, London. Clearly, the photo was taken later than 1892, because of the engine of the omnibus, but the building is how my characters would have seen it. The theatre lasted from 1864 (as the Strand Musick Hall) until it closed in 1938.
The Gaiety Theatre, Strand, London
A map of the Boundary Estate in Shoreditch from 1892. The estate was also known as The Old Nichol and was considered the worst slum area of London. At the time my novel is set, the estate was being changed, people were being moved out and a new estate was being built. My story concerns a theft from a dwelling in Mount Street on the eastern edge of the estate.
A cutting from a newspaper (I think it was The Times) from 1892. Yesterday, I was writing about the Charing Cross Music Hall, which is still operating today as a theatre beneath Charing Cross Station. As you can see, Marie Lloyd was on the bill at the time my story was set, and after I’ve posted this. I am heading into chapter 19, where Jack Merrit will come face to face with the woman who was on stage with his father when he died.
Cutting from The Times, September 1892
This is a shot of the inside of the Roman Road music hall, another venue that is still in use today. I’m not using this particular one in the story, but the image gives me inspiration, as does the history of the building. Now called Wilton’s Music Hall, you can find out more at its website.
Wilton’s Music Hall
This is the London Music Hall in Shoreditch. This one has had a few names, thanks to having several owners over the years. The theatre was at 95-99, Shoreditch High Street, formerly Holywell Street. Originally built in the year 1856, and called the Griffin Music Hall and Pub, it was rebuilt in 1894 as the London Theatre of Varieties. In 1896 it became known as The London Music Hall. In 1924 it became the Shoreditch Empire Theatre and was demolished in 1935.
Finally, this image of Tower Bridge that I mentioned on my Facebook page the other day. I was writing a chapter where Jack sits outside a pub overlooking the building of the ‘new’ Tower Bridge. It’s 1892, and it’s September 28th, so I looked online to see if I could find out what stage the construction was at. Lo and behold, there was a photo of the bridge taken on that exact day! Here it is, with Jack just out of shot along the bank sipping a pint and waiting for his client to arrive.
That’s it. The rest of my ‘Follow the Van’ folder is filled with the various chapters, outlines and research notes which I’ll save for another day.
Hi, all. Today, I wanted to draw together some info about the British Music Hall, because that’s currently where I am with ‘Follow the Van,’ the third Delamere mystery. I have Jeck Merrit investigating a theft and finding himself at the Gaiety Theatre, Strand, London, in 1892. As soon as I’ve posted this post, I am going to take a quick walk around my village while I put together some of Jack’s father’s backstory and then, when I return, I’ll write out the chapter. Meanwhile, here’s a quick summary of the history of the music hall, and of the Gaiety Theatre. (Photos from Arthur Lloyd.)
The British Music Hall
The British music hall was a popular form of entertainment in the United Kingdom from the mid-19th to the mid-20th century. It was characterized by a variety of performances, including music, comedy, dance, and theatrical acts, typically held in large public venues known as music halls.
The music hall at Roman Road, London
The music hall tradition can be traced back to taverns and coffeehouses where live entertainment was provided alongside food and drink. As the popularity of these performances grew, purpose-built music halls began to appear in cities across the UK. Music halls were large, typically ornate venues that accommodated a diverse audience. The architecture often featured balconies, galleries, and a stage at one end. Some famous music halls included the Alhambra, the London Pavilion, and the Empire.
The variety of acts in a music hall show was one of its defining features. Performers included singers, comedians, dancers, magicians, acrobats, ventriloquists, and more. The diverse lineup catered to a broad audience with different tastes. Comedy played a significant role in music hall performances. Comedians often delivered sketches, monologues, or slapstick routines. Some well-known comedians of the time included Marie Lloyd, Dan Leno, and George Formby.
Live music was a staple of the music hall, with performers singing popular songs of the day. The songs ranged from sentimental ballads to humorous tunes. Many music hall songs became hits and were widely known. Music hall shows often encouraged audience participation. Sing-alongs and call-and-response interactions were common, creating an engaging and lively atmosphere.
The Gaiety Theatre, Aldwych, London
The music hall was a significant cultural phenomenon, serving as a popular form of entertainment for people from various social classes. It played a role in shaping popular culture and influencing later forms of entertainment. The decline of the music hall began in the early 20th century, influenced by the rise of cinema and changes in popular entertainment tastes. The decline accelerated after World War I, and many music halls were either converted into cinemas or demolished.
While the traditional music hall format largely disappeared, its influence can still be seen in modern forms of entertainment, and some elements of the music hall tradition have endured in contemporary variety shows and live performances.
The Gaiety Theatre
The Gaiety Theatre, located on the Strand in London, was a prominent Victorian-era theatre known for its contributions to musical theatre and light entertainment.
Inside the Gaiety when it opened in 1869
Opening and Early Years. The Gaiety Theatre opened on December 21, 1868, on the site of the former Lyceum Theatre. The early years of the Gaiety were marked by a mix of drama and light entertainment, but its focus shifted more towards musical productions as time went on.
Management by John Hollingshead. The Gaiety gained fame under the management of John Hollingshead, who took over in 1868. Under his direction, the theatre became synonymous with musical burlesque and operettas. Hollingshead aimed to provide light and humorous entertainment, catering to a wide audience.
Musical Burlesque and Gilbert and Sullivan Collaborations. The Gaiety Theatre became famous for its musical burlesques, which were satirical and often featured humorous parodies of popular operas and plays. In the 1880s, the theatre hosted a series of successful productions by W. S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan, including “Patience” and “The Mikado.”
The Gaiety Girls. The Gaiety became particularly associated with the “Gaiety Girls,” a term coined to refer to the chorus girls who appeared in the theatre’s productions. These young women were known for their beauty and vivacity, and their presence added to the overall appeal of the Gaiety’s shows.
Architectural Features. The Gaiety Theatre underwent several renovations and changes over the years. Architect C.J. Phipps designed the original building, and subsequent modifications were made by other architects. The theatre had a distinctive horseshoe-shaped auditorium and a lavish interior.
Later Years and Closure. The Gaiety continued to be a popular venue for musical productions into the early 20th century. However, like many other traditional theatres, it faced challenges from changing audience tastes and competition from newer forms of entertainment. The Gaiety closed in 1939 and was eventually demolished in 1956.
Legacy. The Gaiety Theatre left a lasting legacy on the London theatrical scene, particularly in the realm of musical theatre. It played a crucial role in popularizing musical burlesque and operettas, influencing the development of the genre. The Gaiety’s focus on light entertainment and the “Gaiety Girls” also left an indelible mark on the cultural landscape of Victorian and Edwardian London.
This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.
Strictly Necessary Cookies
Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.
If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.