Forgotten tales

stories of my family

Archive for the tag “england”

John Christopher Hickson (1848-1945)

Donald Robinson, a former Archbishop of Sydney, writes (around 1960):

The Hicksons were an old Protestant family whose Hickson forebears had crossed to Ireland from England in the time of Cromwell. Their ancestral seat was “The Grove” at Dingle, 30 miles or more west of Tralee in county Kerry, and a few miles from the western extremity of Ireland.

Don Robinson and Dad (who are cousins) are great grandsons of John Hickson (1848-1945), the youngest son of Richard and Mary Hickson, who lived in the early 1800s in Country Kerry. Don has written a fascinating account of John Hickson, which I will quote in full below. Two other brothers, William and George, as well as a sister, Kate, are mentioned by name in this account, since they all migrated to Australia, though William first migrated to America and later to Australia. William, who was 15 years older than John, is of equal interest to me because Mum was descended from him. Mum and Dad are therefore distantly related to each other, though they had no idea of this at the time they married.

Don’s account of John Christopher Hickson (slightly edited) is as follows:

JCH was born on the 2 September 1848 and bred in the small town called Killorglin, on the Laune River as it flows from the Killarney Lakes to the sea. Some part of his boyhood was spent in the picturesque village of Sneem, on the wild rocky coast Kerry, where he had Needham relatives. He was the youngest of a large family, which dispersed to various parts of the world. His mother, Mary Ann (nee Carter), and some of his brothers and sisters died in Killorglin, but his father Richard, a shopkeeper, went with his elder brother William to America, Richard lies buried in North Cemetery at Providence, near Boston.

JCH came to Australia alone (a doctor advised a warm climate for his weak chest) and went to work for George Hudson the timber merchant. Impatient of his slow progress, he began his own timber business, and soon owned his own mills at Nabiac on the Walamba River, and a yard at Darling Harbour, at the foot of Liverpool Street. He was always an enthusiast for the possibilities of Australia, and he persuaded his brother William to come here from America, and another brother George from Ireland, who married Agnes Harper in St. Phillip’s on 9 November 1870. His sister Kate also settled here, and married Hugh Breckenridge, an artist. A daughter of Robert Breckenridge, Hugh’s brother, subsequently owned “The Grange” at Mount Victoria, formerly owned by the Schleichers, and today by the C.S.S.M.

JCH was a member of the first Sydney Regiment when it was formed in the 1860’s. On 25 January 1872, he married Martha Watts who had been born in Balmain N.S.W. on the 20th June 1848, to William Watts, farmer and Mary nee (Mountgarret), then living in Balmain. The marriage was at St. Luke’s Sussex St., Sydney (now demolished) By Rev. Thomas Unwin. They had eleven children: Alice (Mrs. Ross), Edith (Mrs. Layton), George, Mabel (Mrs. Robinson), Maud, Aubrey, Stanley, Percy, Eunice, Hilda (Mrs. Doyle) and Roland. Maud died as a child. My grandmother Alice, was the eldest of the family. She was born on 10 November 1872, at Botany Road, Waterloo.

The Hickson home was later in Cleveland Street facing Albert Park, and is perhaps still standing. But while Alice was still a girl, JCH moved to Summer Hill at which time my grandmother attended the first service in the new St Andrew’s Church on 5 September 1885, when the Rector John Vaughan preached on the text “Come and See”. In the 1880’s JCH moved again to a house called “The Grove” in Liverpool St. Enfield, and I still have the use of a Latin dictionary which bears Alice’s name, with “High School Sydney, 1886” inscribed. The Hicksons were associated with St. Thomas’s Church at Enfield, where Alice was prepared for confirmation by Rev. E. S. Wilkinson, and where she was later married by him on the 24th, August, 1896, the first couple married in the renovated St. Thomas’s Church.

In 1893 JCH made a trip around the world, including a visit to the World Fair at Chicago and pilgrimage to his old family haunts in Ireland. He had friends and relatives (many from Kerry like himself) in a number of places both in America and the British Isles; one such was the Rev. B Needham, a relative, minister of the Baptist Church in Coatesville, near Philadelphia; and a friend of boyhood days, who showed many kindnesses in London, was the chief inspector at Scotland Yard, Mr. Melville. JCH took my grandmother (Alice, then aged 21) with him on this trip, partly, it is said, to prevent a romance with Richard Byrne (who had been born in Killarney, Ireland, and whose family was well known to the Hicksons.) She seems to have had a gay time on the trip. JCH published an account of his journey under the title “Notes of Travel, From Pacific to Atlantic’, with description of the World fair at Chicago, and travels by sea and land around the world. It was printed at Parramatta by Fuller’s Lighting Printing Works Company, and ran to about 80 octavo pages. Much of the information of his early years has been obtained from this, and it contains some interesting material, including the fact they went to hear D.L. Moody preach a number of times in Chicago, and on one occasion JCH pushed through the throng to speak to and shake the hand of the great evangelist.

On 24 August 1895, shortly after their return, Alice married my grandfather, William Frederick Ross, of Heydon St., Enfield.

JCH continued to prosper, and at this time owned a timber yard near Burwood station in Railway Parade, where the Metropolitan Funeral Home now stands. He bought a holiday home on the southern highlands at Balmoral – ‘Glen Gariffe’, (named after a town in Ireland), where my mother spent many holidays as a girl. When he was only 46, at the time of his trip abroad, he had retired from active work, and about 1906 he moved from Enfield to Manly, where he bought a large house, ‘Kyamba’ (still standing 1960), in Addison Road, and lived on the income from his various properties.

In 1911 he went to England again, for the coronation of George V, with his wife. On the return journey Martha caught cholera at Naples, and was buried in the Mediterranean Sea on the 18th July 1911. Four months after his arrival home, JCH married again, to Miss Alice Elizabeth Hammett, who had been on the ship (coming out to marry someone in Western Australia) and had nursed Martha Hickson, on the voyage.

JCH became a churchwarden and treasurer at St. Matthew’s Manly, and when the new church was built he was the clerk of works. He fell out with the Rector, the Rev. A.R. Ebbs, over matters of financial policy.

When Alice Elizabeth died, JCH, now 77, went to England again and returned with a third bride, Isabel Hewitt Parkinson who survived him. He placed a fine brass Lectern in St. Matthew’s in memory of Alice Elizabeth. His later years were spent in a flat at number 9 Victoria Parade, Manly, where he died in 1945 at the age of 97. He had hoped to live to be 100, to see his descendants to the fourth generation, and to see the end of the war. But none of these hopes was fulfilled. He paid my university fees in 1941, and offered to do so for the rest of my course, but the war interrupted my studies. He left 100 pounds to each of his great grandsons. He retained his faculties to the end of his life, and enjoyed conversations with S.M. Johnstone and T. C. Hammond, both Irishmen like himself.

He never forgave my grandmother for her second marriage, when she was 70, to Dick Byrne.

When he first married and lived in Redfern, JCH was friendly with Nathaniel Taubman, my wife’s grandfather with whom he used to walk to work in Waterloo.

James Ross (1827-1892) – his early life

James Ross was born on 31 January 1827 in Kincardine, Ross and Cromarty, Scotland, the fifth child of James Ross and Catherine Urquhart. His father was a blacksmith and he had lots of siblings. I cannot find a census for 1831 but in 1841 when he was 14 years old he was living with his parents in Gledfield (the 1841 census says he was 12 years old and his older brother John was 14, but my other records indicate that in 1841 James was 14 (born 1827) and John 15 (born 1826).

In any case, James Ross, who was Gran’s grandfather, was born and grew up in the highlands of Scotland, until he was at least 14. Sometime between 1841 and 1851 he decided to leave Scotland and seek his fortune in England. He secured a position as a servant in Great Malvern, in Worcestershire, possibly through a fellow Scot, Mary Furmage, whose mother was a Jane Ross (so Mary Furmage may have been his cousin) and who came from Kilmuir, which is just down the road from Kincardine. Mary, who was some years older than James, was already working at the house in Great Malvern where he found work, Chatsworth House. The head of that house was a widow named Ann Warwick, a businesswoman who appeared to manage real estate (“proprietor of houses”).

1851EnglandCensusJamesRoss

1851 England census James Ross

Sometime between 1851 and 1855 James met and married Mary Marston, an English born girl who grew up in Wales, in Montgomeryshire. I have not been able to find any reference to this union in the marriage indexes. How and where they met is unknown, but it is possible that Mary also entered service at Chatsworth House in Great Malvern where she met James. They would have been forced to resign their positions in order to marry and they may well have moved to Wales where they lived with Mary’s parents. Their first child, Alice, was born in 1855 in Welshpool, which is quite close to Tregynon. James became a carpenter and joiner, a trade he took with him to Australia when they eventually migrated. Mary’s father was a also a carpenter and joiner and it seems likely that James learnt the trade from his father-in-law.

After Alice was born the young family moved to Birkenhead, near Liverpool, where they lived in a house with James’ brother John and his wife, as well as two of Mary’s younger brothers, Ambrose and Richard. Three sons were born to James and Mary during the ensuing years. The last of these was my great grandfather, William Ross, Gran’s father.

My mother and her ancestors

Last week, 23 January, was my mother’s birthday, or at least it would have been was she still alive. Mum died in 1999 on August 28. We were living in Sweden at the time, our twins, Hanna and Samuel were not yet two years old, and Isak, our youngest, was not even born. Our return to Australia was planned for October or November, when my brother Peter and his wife Sarah, then living in England, were also planning to move to Australia. When Dad phoned us to tell of Mum’s illness, an aggressive pneumonia which progressed rapidly to septicaemia, Peter and I immediately booked flights, arriving in Tamworth, Australia almost simultaneously a few days later. Mum died the night after we arrived, plunging our family into a dark time of shock and sadness.

That was over 14 years ago and as always, life goes on, despite the hole that is left by the passing on of a loved one. There is still a deep sadness that comes over me at times, at birthdays and anniversaries especially. I was thinking about Mum the other day and her life, and her background, which of course I would love to know more of. I get so annoyed that I cannot ask her about how things were, though of course I heard much of her life when she was here to tell us. And Mum was a great teller of stories.

What I don’t think I ever realised properly was that Mum was only first generation Australian. Her father was English, growing up in the west of London, migrating to Australia in the twenties when he was 18 years old. His parents, the grandparents Mum never met, were both English, though his mother was born in South Africa for reasons I have not yet been able to ascertain. Mum’s mother was Australian born, but both of her parents, Mum’s maternal grandparents, were Irish, having migrated to Australia when they were young. The circumstances of these migrations I have yet to discover, though doubtless Mum could tell me if she was here. So Mum’s grandparents were English and Irish.

Mum’s English grandfather, George Simmonds (previously George Lilley), was in the British army in WW1, as I have written about previously. Her Irish grandfather, George Byrne, who lived in Australia, was born in 1861, and was therefore 53 years of age at the outbreak of war 100 years ago, too old to serve. However, Mum had one uncle on her mother’s side, Uncle William Byrne, who was born in 1895, and was therefore 19 at the outbreak of WW1. He served in the war too, but the details of his war service I have also yet to discover. I would also love to know more of how Mum’s mother, my grandmother Gertrude, and her four sisters, experienced the First World War, since it must have had a profound effect on their early lives. Three of those sisters, Kathleen, Frances and Isobel, never married. I have wondered if part of the reason could have been the lack of young men at that time, so many having embarked for Europe never to return?

Mum’s grandparents, George Byrne and Susan Hickson, were both born in County Kerry, Ireland, in the 1860s. How they came to Australia and when I have yet to discover, but they met and married there, and raised a family of five girls and a son. That son was the WW1 veteran, William. Three of their daughters, as mentioned, died as spinsters. I remember visiting them in the Blue Mountains when I was a child. They all lived together at that time, and I remember thinking how polite and fragile and odd they all were. We had tea in their living room, in a little cottage in Springwood, if I remember correctly. It never occurred to me at that time that they had once been young and vibrant and full of life and dreams. For children, old people have always and only been old.

I don’t remember ever meeting Uncle William, so perhaps he died before I was born. I believe he married but never had any children. And thus that branch of the Byrne name was lost. Gertrude Byrne, my grandmother, became a Simmonds when she married, but her three surviving children were girls. Mum became a Holford, Auntie Dorothy a Murdoch, and Auntie Joyce never married. So the Simmonds name in my family has also passed into history, only two generations after my great grandfather chose it. My grandfather had three brothers, all SImmonds, but as far as I am aware none of them had any sons to carry on the family name.

Mum’s English grandparents were George Simmonds (originally Lilley) from Surrey, and Mabel Butler from Bristol, and her Irish grandparents were George Byrne and Susan Hickson, both from County Kerry. I have pieced together Mabel’s life more than any other. I am getting to know George Simmonds, bit by bit. George Byrne and Susan Hickson, the Irish, are complete strangers to me. Perhaps I can become acquainted with them too in the years ahead.

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Redhill to Hounslow in 1905

Last Monday I returned the car we had rented for the week to an office in Crawley and was being driven back to the B and B where we had stayed overnight in Horley. It was 6.45am and the traffic around Gatwick was already heavy. The driver complained about the traffic. “The other day,” he commented, “I needed to go up to Hounslow. I set the satnav and it told me that it would take 45 minutes but the traffic was so heavy on the M25 that the time got longer and longer and in the end it took over an hour and a half.” We had done the same trip the week before (see previous blog, By train through George and Mabel’s world), also with the help of a GPS and via the M25, and it had taken over an hour for us too.

Hounslow, near Heathrow, is not really that far from Horley, near Gatwick, where we were staying. Horley is a stone’s throw from Redhill, where Mabel Butler had her first son in 1905, George Simmonds, my grandfather. Nowadays, if there is no traffic, it probably takes even less than 45 minutes from Redhill to Hounslow, but it was different a hundred years ago when my great grandparents, Mabel Butler and George Lilley made that journey. I sat in the rental car staring out the window into the darkness of the autumn morning and found my thoughts wandering back to them and the move that marked the start  of their life together. How long did it take in 1905, I wondered? There was no M25 and there were few cars. The roads were probably dirt, and must have been muddy when it rained. They may have travelled by train into London and out again to Hounslow, or more likely, since George was a furniture carman, by horse and carriage.

But they may not have travelled the journey together, considering the circumstances of their move. Mabel had just had their first son, my grandfather, but she was unmarried, and whether it was general knowledge in the area that George Lilley was the father I don’t know. Perhaps she moved alone, to escape the comments of a disapproving community. Redhill was a small place then, and Mabel was not from those parts. Perhaps she knew few people in the area. She was from London, and had grown up in Bristol and the West Country. She was not a girl, already 29 years old when she had her first child. Perhaps she moved to Heston without George, perhaps she knew someone there who was willing to take her in, an unwed mother unable to work, with a newborn baby. But George could not let her and their son disappear from his life. So he came after her. But it is also possible they made the move together. I imagine it was hard to do things secretly in those days, as it is today.

The truth is I don’t know exactly when Mabel moved, or what the circumstances of that move were. What I do know is that her address in 1905 was St Johns, Redhill, and she was unmarried, but in 1908 her address was Gilberts Cottages, Heston, and her name had changed to Mabel Simmonds, her husband was George Simmonds. So some time between 1905 and 1908 she had moved from Surrey to Middlesex, and her “husband” George had moved there too, though whether they moved together or not I have no way of knowing. How they got there and what they took with them I don’t know either. But they settled initially in Heston village, by Osterley, and, apart from moving house a number of times, remained in that area for the rest of their lives.

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