That night―the night of Tuesday the 1st of September―Henry Stanynought stayed in the same room as his son. They were alone in the house. For a time, as the light began to fail, and the shadows lengthened across the floor, Stanynought sat deep in thought. Then, when the little boy had finally fallen asleep, he closed the windows and the door. …
The Bookseller’s Son, or, The Sadness of Henry Stanynought
In Kensal Green Cemetery there is a grave where five members of the same family lie buried. The headstone is rather featureless. The passing of the years has stained it with a dark patina, and the shifting soil has allowed it to tip slightly to one side. There is nothing about it that would make you stop. Countless visitors to …
William Herring, or, Charles Dickens and the Medical Man of Quickset Row
Readers of this blog with a keen eye for all things Dickensian will recall that the great writer’s ailing pet raven, Grip, was treated and quite possibly killed by a local veterinarian. He fed the wretched bird quantities of castor oil, which may well have hastened its end. However, we should not for that reason overlook the veterinarian, because he …
Caroline Crachami, or, The Sad Story of The Sicilian Dwarf
Had you been walking down New Bond Street in the year 1824, then at no. 23, which stood at the corner of Conduit Street, a sign inviting you to visit the “Naturorama” might have caught your eye. And had you put your hand in your pocket, you would have gained access to an inner room with seventeen dioramas displaying model …
A Mysterious Death in Balham: Charles Bravo and the Housemaid
The place was Sussex. The year was 1894. Mary Ann Hills, née Keeber, a forty-two-year-old mother of two young children, Maud and Reginald, lay dying. And, as her marriage had been spent in cemetery lodges, death had played a greater part in her life than in most. Her husband had plied his trade as a cemetery superintendent, seeing almost daily …
Moonlight on the Stairs, or, A North London Story
You may recall meeting Richard Rowe in two of our recent posts, namely Lighting up the Lives of Londoners and Castles in the Air. Rowe was the Methodist minister who worked amongst the poor of London in the later years of the nineteenth century, and who left us an affectionate portrait of Hoppety Bob, a man he clearly admired. Elsewhere …
Frederick Harwood, or, The Surrey Cricketer and the Hot Air Balloon
Whit Monday in 1854, which was June the 5th, was unseasonably cool and breezy, but not enough to stop thousands of holidaying Londoners flocking to the Surrey Zoological Gardens. For an entrance fee of one shilling, or four pounds in today’s money, they could visit the famous menagerie, which was home to ten lions, three elephants, two tigers, two giraffes …
A Riotous Affair, or, A Christmas Story from the Chelsea Workhouse
The master of the workhouse in Chapter Two of Oliver Twist is one of the most unforgettable characters in nineteenth-century literature. From the moment he is introduced to us, serving gruel from the copper in his cook’s uniform, he does not stand a chance. He is fat and healthy, where the inmates he reigns over are starving and scrawny. His …
Shoes and Ships, or, The Story of Marcus Worley
If you have read any of my previous posts on the boys of the Shoeblack Society—Peter Carpenter and Robert Watts and George Roby—you will be aware of the inspirational role of Martin Ware in the lives of these young Londoners. He was a barrister by profession, but he was a philanthropist by nature, and his concern for children whose fortunes he …
The Poor Little Dear, or, The Sad Story of Sarah Gough
On the morning of Saturday the 25th of May 1860 a small parcel sent from London arrived by train at Windsor railway terminus addressed to “The Mother Superior, House of Mercy, Clewer near Windsor”. A Great Western Railway porter set off to the neighbouring area known as Clewer New Town, and on arriving in Hatch Lane he handed the box to the House of Mercy …