Assignment: Step back in time to the golden age of the Victorian era and write a true, fictional or factional story pertaining to a member of the upper, middle or working class in the 1800s
Harold John Paske
by Debbie McDermott
It was the death of his sister, Ada, that changed the course of Harry’s life. She’d really understood him and he adored her for it. Now that she was gone, what reason was there to stay?
Harold Paske was the youngest of 11, all boys except for Ada. He was only five feet two inches tall and felt like a runt alongside his brothers. Not that it worried him. He was good at boxing and could hold his own against the best of them. But what did bother him was the boring, restricted life he led in a Victorian household where children were allowed to be seen but not heard—and woe betide if you disobeyed! His father was a master disciplinarian who did not hesitate to use the rod when necessary. Just the thought made Harry’s backside smart.
He tugged at the stiff collar of his white linen shirt as he pondered his future. A huge part of him longed to be like the waifs running around London in open-necked tunics and ragged trousers instead of stiff-collared shirts, short jackets, velvet breeches, silk stockings and buckled shoes that cramped his toes. Clothes that made his body feel like it was in jail! Not that he wanted to be a waif. What he really wanted was adventure but that wasn’t going to happen here, was it now?
Mind made up, he pulled the bag he’d packed yesterday from under his bed, sneaked out of the house, and went to the army recruitment centre. The Boers in South Africa had risen up in rebellion against English rule and many Britons were enlisting to add their efforts to the troops already on the ground. Harry swallowed when he came to the head of the queue. Lying about his age would be easy (he was only 15 but looked older) but what should he call himself? His father would track him down if he used his given name. An idea suddenly came to him and he smiled. He now knew what to do.
“Name and age?” the sergeant demanded as Harry stepped up to his desk.
“John Harold Hammond, Sir. I’m 16 years old.”
The sergeant scribbled down the details, then directed him to the Quartermaster. Harry could not help but grin as he waited in line to be kitted out with a uniform. Reversing the order of his first and second names and using his mother’s maiden name as his surname was sheer genius.
While Harry did not enjoy fighting the Boers, he loved South Africa from the moment he arrived. Here was the adventure he’d been looking for. The Kimberley diamond mines were in full swing and he managed to make a bob or two out of them. He later rode shotgun on a Zeederberg coach transporting mail from South Africa to newly colonised Rhodesia where he finally settled and married my Granny. Sadly, Granddad died before I was born, but he somehow passed on to me his spirit of adventure.
Step Back In Time
by Bruce Tregonning
I step back in time to the mid-1800s to my forebears living in the southwestern English county of Cornwall. They lived in very humble circumstances as a working class involved in the mining industry. Starting off as tin miners then copper led to clay –kaolin China clay– making pure white porcelain for supplying the Staffordshire potteries in the Midlands.
My great grandfather William and his brother, Hart, became part of the ‘emigration culture’ leaving Cornwall after miners’ strikes, a downturn in economy due to a potato famine, pilchard fishing stocks down and tin and copper industries closing. The only way out of a dire situation to ‘put bread on the table’ was to emigrate to the newly found colonies of Australia and NZ. Both brothers boarded a sailing ship: the ‘Earl Dalhousie’ which took over 4 months, voyaging to Sydney. There were no real breaks for employment there, so they headed over to NZ to follow the gold rush. Disembarking in Dunedin, they stage coached to the lucrative gold diggings of Central Otago at Hamiltons. Living in a sun-dried brick cottage after calico tents, they survived the harsh climate of cold winter snows and frosts plus hot, dry summers. Their mining skills made them very popular in the use of waterpower: in sourcing water which was channelled into races. Interestingly while sluicing for lodes of gold nuggets, they kept their fire stove supplied with cow pats as wood was scarce. Also, there was a plague problem with rabbits which provided game to shoot and food.
Both great grand parents rode horses. Hart was a talented organist who played in the local Wesleyan chapel which also was used as a school. He left to go back to Cornwall with his share of the money and marry his sweetheart, Emily. Older William stayed to purchase a farm leased by the government of the day to lure emigrants to eke out a living, and finally to marry another Cornish maiden, Susanna, whom I was to feature in a Romance novel during the same times of the Victorian period. But more importantly: their good legacy has meant my family generation are here today. Thanks be to God!
In his obituary, it was recorded that he was a lover of music, possessed a fine baritone voice and was an ardent member of the church choir. That he also was a builder, constructing two houses and contributing his skills in the building of the public house of Waipiata at the bottom end of Hamilton’ gold diggings and where his photograph hangs proudly on the wall of the hotel.
In looking back to my forebears, I can see parallels in my own life: the lover of music, singing as a baritone, playing the cornet in a brass band and a very keen shooter of rabbits as Hart was a keen marksman. William lived to a ripe old age of 91 ensuring the possibility of longevity. My thanks to you Great grandfather! Shalom, praise God!
Cream and Jam
by Pamela Lowrey
Born in 1891 in York, England, I was named Dorothy. One day while my older sisters May and Cissie were at school, I was playing in the garden wearing my new stiff sun bonnet. At the end of the village was a baker’s shop. I loved going there and the thought of the cakes Mr Tessler made was so delicious that I could almost taste them. I gathered Dulcie, my favourite wax doll, in her wicker pram and swiftly trundled out the gate. I figured I could get there and back without Mother noticing. After all I was almost four!
The mile walk took time as I dawdled along stopping to look at everything. Today the steam roller was crawling like a gigantic snail down the middle of the road. I loved it. It was so exciting and frightening like a dragon as it snorted and breathed out fire. I gazed longingly in Agate’s Toy Shop window at the tricycles and dolls. Hurrying past Mrs White’s chemist shop and the White Horse Hotel, I was getting hotter and hotter so pulled off my bonnet and tied it to the pram. At last I reached the baker’s shop, dragged my pram up the steps and rushed to the counter.
“Please may I have my cake.”
Instead of smiling and taking a cake from off the fancy plate in the window, the lady called the staff. I knew I was in trouble when they started yelling at me and bundled me into a little room behind the counter. I called out for a cake for Dulcie. After all as she was hungry too! Miraculously an outstretched hand gave me TWO !
Mr Tessler’s cakes were not like the plain wholesome cakes Mother made. These were made with pastry, jam and cream, sprinkled with sugar. I fed Dulcie a bit but not before I got a big blob of creamy jam all down my lace-trimmed green velvet dress. When I tried to get it off I smeared it everywhere. I just wanted to go home! No one believed I knew the way home. I started crying. Mr Tessler produced a big lump of white dough. He invited me to help him make buns. I had such fun. The dough turned a grubby grey.
Back home, there was great commotion upon discovering a child had strayed and was lost. Stolen by gypsies? The village got in a panic searching for a little blonde-haired girl wearing a sunbonnet and pushing a doll’s pram. Had she fallen in the stream? After work, Father discovered I’d disappeared and drove Jack, our pony and cart, round and round. Mother and my sisters joined the policemen on foot. There was great rejoicing when the baker’s boy came running and announced Dorothy had been found!
Mother scolded me for causing so much worry and ruining my dress. Father said I was naughty running away and getting lost! Lost? Silly grownups fuss over nothing! I just went to get a cake!
Reflections of a Victorian Governess
by Lynda Otter
I awoke in my small but private bedroom a little earlier than my usual rising time of five, turning onto my back and stretching leisurely. Pulling my blankets to my chin to ward off the cold of this frosty winter morning I reflected on my current position of Governess to the children of a Duke. I was most fortunate to have this position as it included a small private bedroom and sitting area plus a very generous salary of one hundred pounds a year. I had expected to marry and have my own children, but my father, a merchant, died suddenly leaving his wife and six children. So at the age of twenty I applied to work for the Duke. I was one of the first to receive governess training and a Certificate from the Queen’s College in Harley Street, London which seemed to make me more acceptable to the Duke plus I also offered skills in music and French. I was responsible for six children aged three to fourteen, nanny had two toddlers.
Checking my small but decorative clock that had belonged to my mother I saw that it was nearly time to rise. Once dressed, I had nearly forty minutes to plan the lessons for the day before the children woke at six. They would have breakfast in the nursery at 7.30 following an early music lesson. The rest of the morning would be taken up with French and geography for the older children, while the younger ones would have reading, writing and arithmetic. Today, instead of cotillion lessons, the drawing tutor would have his twice weekly visit while I updated their mother, Beatrice. I sighed thinking about it as Edmond had been undisciplined last evening and his mother was rather stern and unyielding. She would ask if I had whipped him and I surely did not wish to do that. However, he turned ten next year and would be off to boarding school.
I found it difficult being a governess. The other staff, except for the nanny, were not very friendly. The butler in particular, made me feel most unwelcome. Some governesses found their employers to be congenial but that was not the case for me. I did like His Grace but I believe the Duchess did not approve of his friendly manner.
I fastened my corset, added a petticoat then dressed in my black woollen gown, fixed my hair into a bun and attached the white cap the Duchess insisted on, while thinking about the rest of the day. I would make sure they had some play time tonight; they loved snakes and ladders. Edmond would want to play with his brother’s wooden Noah’s ark and there was bound to be another fight.
The older children and I would join the Duke and Duchess for dinner where I would further inform them of the children’s progress. I would finally usher the older children to bed around 8.30 pm before retiring myself at nine. I daren’t fall ill as I would simply be dismissed.
Taking a deep breath, I walked into the night nursery to help nanny wake the children.