The Down and Out King - 30

WILLIAM

I once was rich - had lots of tin -

I never thought I’d get so thin,

Business failed, and I must go

Into the poorhouse, oh Dear oh

I have had a letter at last, but not from my children, as I hoped. It is from my half-brother George.

It reads as follows:

To William King of Stanwell Workhouse

I have been informed by a woman, Mrs. Stanley, who called into my grocer shop, that there is a man of your name resident at this place, who she thinks might be my brother. The brother to who I refer would now be 54 years old, having been born in 1827. He has (or possibly had) a wife called Eliza Taylor and several children whose names I don’t know. When I last heard of him, he was working as a grocer in Dorking, Surrey. That would have been about 1872. If you are indeed my brother, please get in touch with me as I would like to know more about the circumstances of your committal in that place.

From George Williams King, 7 Lansdowne Crescent, Worcester.

I was never close to my brother. Once father had remarried and he had two young sons, he never treated me the same again. I couldn’t compete with them in father’s eyes as they were bright and sociable and full of fun. I was always one to be quiet and rather depressed, and my periods of black moods increased as time went on.

I thought moving from home with a wife and family would make me a happier man, but that wasn’t the case. I was not successful and when I lost the business, I lost any respect I had for myself. I had no wish to let my father or half-brother (the younger one, Downs, died shortly after my marriage) know how badly I had ruined our lives. I attended my father’s funeral in 1872, but did not stay
afterwards to talk to anyone, giving the pressure of business as my excuse. I was already unemployed at that state - living on the charity of my wife’s allowance from her father and the rent paid by her brother who lived with us. I was in the depths of depression almost continually in those days so don’t remember much of what went on, but I do know that my brother showed no interest in me  in the short time we spent in conversation before our father’s funeral.

I don’t know whether I want my brother to find me or not. I expect if I reply to him in the affirmative, he will feel the need to come here, see me, get me released, take me home with him, and either care for me or try to get me a job. I have been happier here than for any period I can remember since my father remarried. I can’t imagine that being a poor relative, under the care of George Williams King, would suit me in the slightest.

If I don’t reply at all, he might try again. If I reply but say I don’t wish to have anything to do with him, he will think me churlish and might come to try to get me to change my mind. I think the best thing for me to do, is to ask Mrs. Saunders to reply on my behalf, stating that I am not the person he is looking for. I may live to regret my decision, but that is what I have decided to do.

For the few years left to me, I wish to be comfortable in my own skin - knowing that I am valued for what I am, with no pressure on me, and with the great friendship of Sam, who not only does not judge me, but comfortably and happily shares my way of life.

Epilogue

William King died probably in 1884 - but possibly in 1887 - but still in the area which would imply that he was at the time resident at the workhouse.

I am not sure when his wife died, but think it was probably in 1873. I don’t know when William King entered the workhouse - but only that he is listed as an inmate in 1881, and as a grocer.

His half-brother, George Williams King continued to thrive in the grocery business, taking it over from his uncles. He made a great success of his life, becoming Mayor of Worcester in 1907. His daughter, Muriel, was my husband’s grandmother and she was a great collector and saver of family history for I have her to thank for much of my information. No mention was ever made, nor have
any letters or pictures been found of William, amongst his things that we inherited.

Emily Day Stanley and her husband John were the Matron and Master of the Workhouse in Calne - although they did not start the position in 1881 as I have stated, but were in place there in the 1875 Post Office Directory. John died in Calne in the winter of 1886. I presume Emily left the workhouse at the same time. In the 1891 census, Emily is listed as a widow working as the Matron of the Watford Workhouse Infirmary and Infection Hospital. In the 1901 census, Emily is listed as a retired matron, living as a boarder in Norwich, where her brother David and his family also lived.

JCR and Caroline Day - were my husband’s other great grandparents, as their son, Harold Day married Muriel King, the daughter of George Williams King.

The information about Caroline's parents and brother – who lived and worked in Calne is accurate. The relationship between them and the vicar is speculative, but with good cause to be true. Caroline's brother George's son Michael Duncan was the person I wrote about who escaped from the prisoner of war camp (Escape from Biberach).

Sam is a made up character - but his writing is authentic, and was published anonymously by One of Them in 1885, the book called, “Indoor Paupers.”  The book is now available to buy through the workhouse web site, and apparently contains information as to his real identity. I've made several guesses but haven't checked to see if I'm right yet.

My main source of information was the wonderful and very complete website about workhouses, written by Peter Higginbotham. He also had a relative who lived and died in a workhouse, and finding out about him was what inspired him to collect together thousands of references and pictures about workhouses. I also  used information from May Higgs's book, FIve Days and Five Nights as  a Tramp - Social Investigation by a Lady, 1905.