Women of the Charterhouse

 Our 19th century register hides the stories of an unknown number of women.

When a married man was given a room and brought his wife with him, his name was recorded, but hers often was not; it seems to have depended on the attitude of the Master of the time.  We only knew of the existence of some of these women when we looked at the census records, and those records are just 10-year snapshots.  Occasionally a missing wife is brought to our attention by a descendant.  One such is Mary Jane Abey.  She entered the Charterhouse with her husband George in 1900.  Two years later she died, and very soon after that George was "removed to the workhouse infirmary".  It's quite likely that Mary Jane had been the carer for her husband who, with her death, could not look after himself and so had to go.
 Sometimes we see a woman who is obviously the wife of an inmate admitted after her husband has died.  She has been given a room in her own right.
Another curious fact is that when waiting lists for rooms appear in the archives the men are categorised by their former occupations; the women only as single or widowed.  (Women, of course, could not be awarded a room in their own right if they were married.)  This reflects the normal 19th century practice of seeing a married woman as simply an adjunct of her husband.  Census returns rarely record an occupation for a wife, even though we know that very many working-class wives had jobs or earned money working from home.  They were not deemed to be the bread-winners.  When we try to trace the history of some of the Charterhouse widows, all we can usually learn is what their husbands did for a living.
One such is Hannah Lax, who was admitted in 1910.  She was the widow of Charles Lax, described as a music teacher and then a flautist and bandmaster.  She was removed to the infirmary in 1913 because of "mental infirmity" and died in 1926.  Another is Emma Whincup, admitted in 1896 when she was only 60, the widow of Thomas Whincup, a butcher.  There are many more such women whose histories are hidden until someone undertakes more detailed research.

One Charterhouse widow whose story has been well researched is Jane Wing.  Born Jane Barnborough in 1778, she married John Wing who ran the mail coach service between Hull, Hedon and Patrington from premises beside North Bridge.  When John died in 1826 Jane took over the business, and ran it successfully with the help of her son John.  Two of her sons emigrated to Australia with their wives in 1840, but one of them, David, returned two years later with his wife and the daughter who had been born in Australia.  He got a job as a "relieving officer", administering the Poor Law for the Board of Guardians, and this may be connected to the fact that his mother was given a room in the Charterhouse in 1844.  She died on 27 June 1854.

Ann Roberts' story is known thanks to the fact that the local paper ran a story about her.  Born Ann Squires in 1819, she married twice.  Her first husband, Henry Sayle, was lost at sea in 1861; her second, Thomas Roberts, died in 1884.  Ann was admitted to the Charterhouse in 1905, and lived here for 10 years until she was "removed to the workhouse" when she was 95.  The workhouse was then the only source of what we now call "social care", and Ann could no longer look after herself.  But in 1919 the workhouse threw a party to celebrate her 100th birthday.  The Hull Daily Mail (which published the photo) made it a news story.  It said that she "had not troubled doctors much", was "quite bright" and "very much alive".  Ann died in 1922 aged 102.  If she had stayed at the Charterhouse she would have been our only known centenarian.

All we know about Elizabeth Brown comes from the inquest into her death, reported in the local paper in February 1836.  Despite her "deranged state of mind" there was nowhere else for her to go.  She was probably the wife of Edward Brown who was admitted in 1832, but she does not appear in the register with him.  Her body was found a long way from home, so she must have wandered for some distance.

Alice Booth's death in 1895 was also a tragedy.  The details are quite harrowing.  She had gone to the wash-house to get hot water from the copper (the type heated by a fire underneath).  The door to the furnace had been left open, and Alice's dress caught fire.  Her screams were heard by a young window-cleaner who threw water over her and rolled her on the ground.  She was kept at the Charterhouse for two days, with the Matron and a doctor attending to her burns, but was then taken to the Infirmary  where she died two weeks later.  We know about her death - but all we know of

her life is that she was born in the Malton (Yorkshire) area in 1817 and was married to John Booth, a grocer.  She was widowed by 1881 and entered the Charterhouse in 1887.

From its foundation the Charterhouse provided a refuge for both men and women.  But, as in society as a whole, it's the men who are most visible.