The list reveals that the building (other than the shop and counting room) consisted of thirteen separate rooms. No mention is made of a privy – presumably because it was outside.

Even the shop had a feather bed – no doubt because an apprentice slept there overnight. Indeed it is the sheer number of beds which catches the eye. Assuming that a bolster would not have been appropriate to a single bed, it looks as though there were seven double beds, one single, plus a “straw pallice” i.e. palliasse. In theory sixteen people could be in occupation. From the description of the Hall household it is assumed that there were only two domestic servants “living in” – presumably in “Room No. 3 – Left hand” with its “Stump bedstead…a wainscoat chest of drawers, round table, square dressing glass” (i.e. mirror) and stove with “tin fender”.

The other rooms contain rather more furniture and benefit from “window curtains” (as distinct from “bed curtains”).

In the main bedroom there is a half tester bed (i.e. with a canopy) with what is described as “Harrateen furniture” (Harrateen being a type of woollen fabric, used here for the drapes, canopy and curtains). The main bed had a goose feather mattress and pillows – other mattresses appear to have been mostly “feather” (of unspecified origin) or “flock” or straw. “Scotch carpet” appears to have been laid in strips – presumably around the sides and bottom of the bed – in most rooms. Only the Dining Room had a Wilton carpet.

As the Hall family would only have justified half the beds, the rest were either an indication that rooms were let out (a common way of generating an income, then as now) or shows rather more than one apprentice or shop assistant living in.

I appreciate that a mere list can seem as dry as dust, but just in case any novel writers out there are looking for authenticity, here is the list of all the things at One London Bridge this week, 218 years ago.

Inventory of the Household Furniture Linen China & Books taken at Mr Wm. Hall, hosier

No.1 London Bridge May 15, 1794

No. 1 Right hand and spair back

A half-tester bedstead and crimson Harrateen Furniture

A goose-feather bed, bolster and pillow. 2 blankets and a quilt

A truckle bedstead – a feather bed. Bolster, three blankets and a quilt

A walnut chest of drawers. 6 stained chairs – canvas seats

A corner night chair. A table clock – black Ebony Case by Smolling (?).

3 slips of carpets. A Harrateen window curtain

No 2 Right hand front

A bath stove, serpentine fender. Shovel, tongs and fender

A 4-part bedstead, Linen furniture. A feather bed, bolster & pillow

3 blankets. A linen quilt. A pair glass in a walnut tree Gilt frame.

A walnut tree kneehole dressing table. A ditto low chest of drawers.

6 black dyed chairs – matted seat A square Scotch carpet 2 slips of Ditto.

A wainscoat. Pillow, Chair, Table.  5 paintings on Glass.

No 3 left hand

A Stump (?) bedstead. A feather bed bolster & pillow. 3 blankets a wainscoat chest of drawers a ditto round table. A square dressing glass

A Scotch carpet. A brass front stove, tin fender.

No 4 Back room

A high wire fender. A parrot cage. 3 Cloaths horses. A large round table

A (?) Lanthorn (lantern). Sundry boxes. A folding board and sundries

A hatch and stairs

No. 5 Spair back room

A 4 part bedstead with Green Damask furniture – a goose feather bed bolster,

2 pillows, a flock mattress. A blanket, a green damask window curtain.

A Mahogany one drawer table. An oval swing Dressing Glass.

4 Mahogany Chairs – horse hair seats. Sundry fossils and shells.

A  basin stand, a wainscoat bureau. A Scotch carpet to go around the bed.

No. 6 – Spair right hand front room

A bath stove. Shovel tongs and poker. A 4 part bedstead, mahogany feet.

Pillows. Printed cotton furniture. A feather bed, bolster, 2 pillows. A straw pallice.

3 blankets, a white cotton counterpane. 2 sets of cotton festoon window curtains.

A compress front mahogany Chest of drawers. A swing glass in a Mahogany frame.

A Mahogany double chest of drawers. 6 Mahogany chairs, horsehair seats.

A Scotch carpet and 2 bedsides (i.e. slips). A Mahogany basin stand Jug and Basin

A small ditto Cloaths Horse. Side bed. A small feather bed.

2 pillows, 2 flannel blankets a Marseilles quilt, an India picture. 2 China jars & Covers. 2 ….(?) & 2 pieces blown glass.

No. 7 – Spair left hand

An iron grate on hearth stones. A harrateen window curtain & rod

A Mahogany cloaths press with folding doors & drawer under.

A Mahogany bureau. A small ditto. An easy chair. Cushion. Linen case.

A Scotch carpet 2 setts of window curtains. ….….(?) A purple ditto.

Linen

4 Diaper Table cloths,2 small ditto. 4 Damask Breakfast Ditto

4 Diaper Table Cloths. 1 pair Lancashire Sheets

4 pairs Russia Ditto, 3 pair Ditto. 2 pair Lancashire Ditto, 2 odd sheets

8 pairs Pillowcases, 6 Diaper Hand Towels. 9 Huckerback towels – 2 Jack Ditto

2 old Ditto. 20 hand towels. A breakfast cloth – 2 Pudding Ditto

A cotton counterpane. A sett of blue check bed Curtains

Books

One vol. Folio ½ bound. 1 Ditto unbound. 5 Ditto 4to (Quarto). Plates to ditto. Miscellaneous Tracks (tracts) relating to Antiquity. Baileys Dictionary. Buchans Domestic Medicine. Thompsons Travels. Non-conformists Memorial, 2 volumes, Winchesters Tracks. Philadelphian Magazine. A Dictionary. Harveys Meditations. Herberts Poems. James Beauties (?). 36 bound books. Sundry pamphlets – 4 bound. Pashams Bible. Hymns & Psalms. A family bible. Crudens Concordances. Clark on the Testament.4 maps of Europe Asia Africa & America. An orrery. 3 Portraits framed & Glazed.

No.8 Spair back room

A fretwork Mahogany Tea Table. A Japan Ditto. A variable (?) one-draw Table.

A Draft Board. A slip of floor cloth. Sundry stones shells & fossils.

A painting of fruit, sundry shells in a drawer.

No. 9 Dining Room

Fender shovel Tongs & Poker. 3 sett of blue Damask festoon window curtains.

A steel stove.  2 oval pier glasses in carved gilt frames. A square pillar & claw Table.

2 square mahogany Dining Tables with 2 flaps.  A round Ditto.

A Mahogany Dumb Waiter. 6 Ditto Chairs Sattin hair seats brass nailed. 2 Elbow Ditto. A Wilton carpet.

A marble slab on a Mahogany stand – a Mahogany book Case, Glass Doors.

A Harpsichord in a walnut tree case by Kirkhoffe …(?), a violin, a flute, a high Mahogany Chair, a Ditto stool, a Japan’d Urn, a Mahogany stand, 2 waiters.

Cut(lery) and knife tray. Sundry Moths & insects framed & Glazed. Sundry Stones Shells & Fossils. A Canary Bird & Cage. A Mahogany Knife case.

A set of cruets with Silver Tops – 2 small miniature portraits.

No. 10 Kitchen

1 Trivet, 2 Crane Hooks. Footman(i.e. kettle stand) 2 Spits…(?) Dripping Pan Stand.

2 Gridirons. A copper Boiler. A Tea Kettle. 2 Porrage pots & covers. 3 Saucepans.

A chocolate pot. A pair of Princes metal candlesticks. 1 pr shorter Ditto.3 high brass Ditto. A brass ladle. A tin fish kettle plate & cover. 5 Saucepans & covers.

6 candlesticks. 10 patties. Loose tea ware (?). Bread basket. Japan Sugar Ditto. 3 Tin Cannisters. 14 Oval & round dishes.12 large plates. 6 small Ditto.

Sundry Queens Ware. 4 water (?) plates. A meat steamer(?) lined with Tin. A Deal table with 2 flaps.6 wood chairs. A pair of bellows. Salt box. Spice Box.2 sieves. A Japan Patent Jack. A Deal cupboard under Dresser. A Hatch on stairs.

No. 11 Store Room

An eight day clock in a walnut tree case by Wright. A Square Mahogany 2-flap Dining Table. A 2-flap Deal Table. A small cloaths horse. A plate warmer.

2 Frying pans. A footman (i.e. kettle stand). A tin Fish Kettle. A copper warming pan. A brass Ditto. A small Lanthorn (lantern). A Japan Tea Tray. 3 Flat irons & 2 stands.

A pewter(?) water dish. 4 round dishes. 10 plates. A tureen. A copper stew pan. A bell. Metal Saucepan.

1 brass 1 copper Urn. Part of a set of China containing 35 pieces. A tea-pot

Cover.6 cups & saucers. 6 blue and white cups & saucers. Basin. 6 candle

Basins & Saucers. 27 china plates. 3 Ditto bowls. A dragon basin. 2 mugs.

A tureen cover. 14 soup plates. 4 Dishes. 9 Patties. 4 basons.2 jugs. 4

Round dishes. 15 pieces of Queens Ware.4 Red dishes & sundry Jars. 2

Glass Decanters. 20 wine & jelly Glasses. A Tumbler. A Mahogany

knife tray. 2 Waiters. 1 Japan Ditto. Candle box, lamp, 2 pairs of plated

Candlesticks. A dish cross (?). 2 pairs of snuffers. A plated stand. A plated

Cruet (?) with 5 glasses. 12 brown-handled knives & forks.12 small Ditto.

10 forks.

Shop No. 12

A feather bed, bolster & pillows. 2 blankets & a rug.

No. 13 Cellar

A beer stand. 2 wash tubs. 2 pails. Sundry Garden Pots

All the Effects in the Foregoing Inventory is valued at One Hundred & Twenty Five pounds fifteen shillings & 6d by

John Fletcher

for Samuel Burton, Houndsditch.

The family interest in astronomy was reflected in the “orrery” – a clockwork mechanism used to show the movement of the planets around the sun, and named after the Earl of Orrery. Some years earlier the Earl had commissioned the instrument maker J Rowley to make just such an instrument copying the invention of George Graham.

The list of linen is interesting with its reference to “Diaper Table Cloths” – diaper meaning “diamond patterned”, Huckerback towels – which the Oxford Dictionary defines as being “made of stout linen or cotton fabric” and “Jack Towels” meaning roller towels. The family appear to have been musical, with a “harpsichord in a Walnut Tree case” along with a violin and a flute. Ornaments seem to have been dominated by shells and fossils,many of which are still in my possession, along with miniature portraits and “sundry Moths and Insects framed and glazed”.

Even the canary in its cage was listed in the inventory (in the Dining Room, next to the Mahogany Knife Case). The parrot cage in the Back Room was presumably without an inmate (since none was mentioned) but indicates the popularity of keeping caged birds as pets.

The total value of the entire household contents came to a modest £125.15s.6d. (the equivalent of perhaps £6,500) but this may well have reflected that at ten pounds per room this was a “family valuation”.

A picture showing One London Bridge (then, the postal address of premises North of the River Thames, immediately to the left of the Church of St Magnus the Martyr, and behind the old water wheel).

Many more details about One London Bridge can be found in The Journal of a Georgian Gentleman but I find it fascinating to think that I actually know in which room in the house some of the items I now own were originally kept.

And. if we return to the subject of muffs in satire, a curious cartoon entitled “The Fox Muff” dated 1787, ridiculing Charles James  Fox, 1749-1806. It comes courtesy of the Lewis Walpole Library at Yale.

I also came across this print (below right) of The Peasant of the Alps (courtesy of Grosvenor Prints) which is suitably absurd, and, combining this post with my blog about how the English view the French, a rather nice etching entitled “A French hairdreser” which according to the excellent Lewis Walpole Library site, reflects the fact that by the turn of the century there were some fifty thousand hairdressers in Britain, the best of them French. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my barnet (well, if I had one…)!

And finally, an image from Christie’s auction house: “Portrait of Louise Henriette de Bourbon, Duchesse de Chartres and Duchesse d’Orléans (1726-1759) in a fur trimmed cloak and muff. French School.” Nice muff, shame about the face…

The Muff was a fashion accessory which got larger and larger throughout the 1700′s. They clearly went to a huge size, and satirists were never slow to ridicule  fashion.

And where would you buy your muff? From a muff shop of course!

This print is entitled “Such things are” and  contains the caption ‘That SUCH THINGS ARE most strange yet Common. What things? For sure they are not Women’

The muff, a cylinder of fur or fabric, was in fact worn by both men and women in the 18th century.

This is a splendid  silk one (from the Metropolitan Museum of Art) dated 1780.

and another, made of feathers and fur, from the same source and stated as being from ‘the third quarter of the eighteenth century’.

18th Century chintz wallpaper, courtesy of the V&A

I remember working in a Georgian office in Bristol where the wallpaper was looking tired and in need of being replaced. It was only when the decorator came in and put his scraper through the wall covering to the rough stone behind it that it was realized that the paper had been hung on canvas sheets, stretched taut over a wooden frame, and that the walls had never actually been plastered! I suspect this may have been a common way of squaring off and smoothing irregular walls and rough surfaces. For what is certain is that applying paper to walls was a very common fashion in the Eighteenth Century.

Quoting from http://www.wallpaperinstaller.com

“Jean-Michel Papillon, a French engraver and considered the inventor of wallpaper, started making block designs in matching, continuous patterns in 1675, and wallpaper as we know it today was on its way. The oldest existing example of flocked wallpaper comes from Worcester and was created in approximately 1680.

The manufacturing methods developed by the English are significant, and the products from 18th century London workshops became all the rage. At first, fashion conscious Londoners ordered expensive hand painted papers that imitated architectural details or materials like marble and stucco, but eventually wallpapers won favour on their own merits. Borders resembling a tasseled braid or a swag of fabric were often added, and flocked papers that looked like cut velvet were immensely popular.

Wallpaper came to America in 1739, when Plunket Fleeson began printing wallpaper in Philadelphia.

In 1778, Louis XVI issued a decree that required the length of a wallpaper roll be about 34 feet. Frenchman, Christophe-Philippe Oberkampf invented the first machine for printing wallpaper in 1785. Frenchman, Nicholas Louis Robert invented a way to make an endless roll of wallpaper around the same time.”

This gives us a background for the diary entry for September 1768 (made by Richard Hall’s brother-in-law William Snooke) relating to the Manor House at Bourton on the Water.

“Paid to Mr Stark for ten pieces of crimson flock at eight shillings a piece. or eight pence a yard (4 shillings abated on the whole) – Three pounds sixteen shillings. Bordering eleven shillings. Total: Four pounds seven shillings.”

Flock paper from c.1760

The paper was for hanging in ‘the Best Chamber’ and it is unclear whether the draping of the paper on the walls was connected with another item of expenditure for the same day (Saturday 1st September) “Paid for a box of tools One pound eleven shillings and sixpence”. Whatever it was, he needed more because in October he paid “half a crown more for tools” (i.e. another two shillings and sixpence). The total expenditure on flock paper, borders and tools therefore came to just under six pounds – not far short of four hundred pounds in modern terms.

 Flock paper, left, image courtesy of the Victoria & Albert Museum, which has a fascinating article on early flocks at http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/f/flock-wallpapers/

Other expenditure that first week of September: “two shillings for half a hundred of crayfish, one and sixpence for a hare, four pence ha’penny for three quarters of a yard of black ribbon for my Wig, servants one shilling and mending the salt shovel sixpence.”

The butcher’s bill for dog meat had obviously been overlooked for some months because there is also an entry “Wm Hyett’s Bill for Flesh for the Dogs from June 22 Eleven shillings”

But there was enough in hand for the odd tipple – two gallons of Geneva (i.e. Gin) at nineteen shillings and One pound four shillings for an equivalent amount of “best coniac Brandy” meant a stockpile of four gallons of hard liquor to see out the winter ahead!

A typical still for making cognac in the 18th Century, picture courtesy of http://www.galenfrysinger.com

I was also intrigued to see that “gold” was pronounced “gould”, Farthing” as “fardun” and “toilet” as “twaylet ” or even “twilight”. O.K., some of the examples are obvious (“yot” for “yacht”) but on the whole he does come across as a tad affected by modern standards!

Place names and proper nouns were obviously not the same as now: I can just about remember people calling “Cirencester” by the name of ”Sisester” and the Somerset village of Congresbury being pronounced “Coomsbury” but although we still talk of “Brummies” we don’t call the city “Brummagen” any more. Bartholomew is not, so far as I am aware, pronounced “Bartolomy”.  And even in Richard’s time “Brighthelmstone” was being abbreviated to match the way it was pronounced – “Brighton”.

I suppose it boils down to the fact that pronunciation, like spelling, changes over the centuries. as well as from locality to locality. But it does make you think, if a well-educated man like Richard spoke of “hartichokes” rather than “artichokes”, and called his cucumbers “cowcumbers”. But then, think of the strained pronunciation of “Georgiana” in the film ‘The Duchess’ – it is almost as if the upper echelons of society deliberately strangled their vowels to make it impossible for the hoi-poloi to follow!

The English wear long-waisted close-fitting bodices, with skirts narrowing at the bottom, giving an oddly dumpy profile (akin to a sack of potatoes) whereas the French ladies wear gowns which are high-waisted, with full skirts to the ankle, and which are elaborately trimmed with pinked, scalloped, or embroidered frills. There is no mistaking that this is a Parisian print showing French views of English taste – brought even more into high relief by the rear views of the men in the background. The stout figure on the left, with an ill fitting coat and exaggeratedly turned down boots, is clearly English. The figure on the right is an elegantly attired Frenchman in a short full-skirted coat, well-fitting breeches, and top-boots of less extreme cut.

The print is dated November 1814.

Oh dear and just as I thought  we were trying to be nice to each other…

A real turn-up for the books – an 18th Century illustration of the differences between the French and the English,  where the artist (Rowlandson) is not being nasty to our European cousins! It is entitled “Englishmen in November… and Frenchmen in November”.

 The image is from the British Museum, and therefore their copyright is acknowledged.

So, there we have it: as the winter evenings draw in les Anglais sit around in their arm chairs being bored, while their French counterparts are having witty conversations, cavorting, playing musical instruments, imbibing the odd drink or three,  playing with their dog, joining the hunt, or going off to dance a jig!

I find preconceptions about other nationalities fascinating. A couple of years ago we were staying in a French guest house. The other residents were an elderly French couple, who told us proudly that, no, they had never been to England, and was it really true that the English like their beer warm and ate a lot of boiled meat? (!) I felt I couldn’t argue with the former, but was at pains to point out that we do occasionally roast, casserole, barbecue, grill and fry our meat. I suspect that ‘boiled beef and carrots’ has a lot to answer for…

The maps were published between 1792 and 1799 but Richard Horwood is believed to have started working on the maps at least a decade previously. It really was a huge undertaking: he and his team of assistants had to scrabble around every single property, every alley way, every back garden, in an attempt to give a comprehensive plan of the whole area. Of course there were omissions – the Tower of London steadfastly refused to open its doors to the cartographers. Presumably it was classed as a military installation, given that England was at war with France. Horwood simply records that: ‘The Internal Parts not distinguished being refused permission to take the Survey’,  But astonishingly just about every other landowner consented to this  detailed study and the result, drawn at a scale of 26 inches to the mile, gives a beautiful and accurate picture of London at the turn of the eighteenth century. The map was reissued at least four times, with relevant additions and alterations, up until 1819.

An overview of the 32 sheets making up Horwood's map

The detail is wonderful – where street numbering had already been brought in the numbers were clearly shown and where numbers had not yet been allocated Horwood made it clear that “Should the Commissioners appointed for that purpose and the Parishes think proper at any future period to make a regulation in the Numbering, the Proprietor would in that case with Pleasure furnish any Gentleman who may desire it, with a New Set of Impressions in exchange for the old, at a trifling expense”.

The undertaking must have been hugely expensive. Horwood had raised the not-inconsiderable sum of £4000 by public subscription by the mid 90′s, an indication that the idea readily found favour with landowners, surveyors and public officials anxious for a more accurate map than the outdated John Rocque plan of 1740. Even this sum was not enough to cover the cost of completing the surveying, paying for the plates to be etched, and for the Plan to be offered for sale. Horwood approached the Phoenix Fire Office in Lombard Street for a loan.

The Phoenix Fire Office put up £500 and agreed to pay another twenty pounds on promoting the Plan through advertising. In return Horwood agreed to dedicate the map to the Phoenix and this dedication is shown here:

I love the maps because they conveniently identify the exact premises constructed by my ancestor Richard Hall at Number One London Bridge. That address is nowadays allocated to a glass and concrete monolith south of the river, but in the 1790′s it was the address of my  forebear’s shop on the north side of the Thames. I still have his accounts showing the building cost  (£850) and surveyors fees of £228 (even the paper hanging expenses of five pounds sixteen shillings). But I had always assumed the building was in Southwark until I came across an envelope addressed to Richard, describing his house as being next to St Magnus the Martyr church. The Horwood map bears this out – there are three houses built next to the waterwheel, right on the approach to London Bridge, and just over the road from Wren’s masterpiece. Richard’s shop is shown as the building in the corner of the quadrant formed by the Bridge as it joins Lower Thames Street.

The book explains the history of the shop – how it was nearly burned down on 31st October 1779 by a disastrous fire which destroyed the adjoining hop-house and which reduced the waterworks to the level of the Thames. Frightening for Richard, who was forced to take refuge in St Magnus Church, and irritating for the wealthy householders who no longer were able to draw water from the elm conduits which until that night had been used to pump water from the Thames to their premises, for several hours a day.

Richard’s son Francis  succeeded to the business when Richard died in 1801, and Francis kept the shop until the lease expired on Christmas Day 1826. Closing the shop, selling the stock, and moving out into a new home must have been too traumatic for Francis: he too expired, on the very next day (26th December 1826).

And the house at One London Bridge? It was to be demolished within a few years, to make way for road re-alignmnets linked to the new London Bridge, designed by Rennie and opened in 1831. Meanwhile a different map-maker, the Greenwood brothers, brought out their own map in 1827 and the two bridges, old and new, can be seen side by side. One London Bridge was still standing, but within a couple of years both it and the old bridge had gone for ever.

But what of Richard Horwood the man? Very little is known about him. He was born around 1757/8 and died in poverty in Liverpool in 1803. Horwood had gone to Liverpool to prepare a set of maps of that city, and six sheets were finished.

To end with, the Horwood map showing where Richard Hall was born, at Red Lion Street in Southwark:

Post-script:  Copies of all the  Horwood plans, of a higher quality than the ones shown here, are available at the splendid MOTCO site at http://www.motco.com/map/81005/  I used them for copyright versions of the maps used in my book and they really were most helpful, to the extent of sending off a CD-Rom to the publishers at very short notice, and e-mailing me from France to confirm that it had been done. Scroll through their website and you can find places using their index of 5500 names. A wonderful way of spending a spare hour or two!

“Was confin’d at Home on account of pain in my bowels. May an absence from the House of God increase my apetite to His Holy Word.”

Poor Richard, he was for ever suffering from “oppress’d wind”, or pains in his bowels. Fortunately he knew exactly what to take for his ailment: the entry below calls for a quarter of an ounce of Senna, “put on it about a Gill of hot water” to be washed down first thing in the morning with a little Brandy. “Cardimum Drops” knocked back with a tea-cup full of camomile tea (twice a day) sounds O.K. but off hand I am not sure what went into “Sir Walter Rauleigh’s Confection” (but hey, you knocked it back with a glass of wine, so it must have been  beneficial….).

Maybe Richard just made do with  Mr Crouch’s medicine for Bowel Complaints: “sugar candy, Liquorish Powder, Rhubarb, Carraway Seeds, Cream of Tartar, all finely powdered and taken at night” (again, with camomile tea). Whatever, Richard records that the next day his “bowels, through Mercy, better.”  Which is nice for all of us…

Map of Van Diemen’s Land, 1852

Visiting Tasmania makes you appreciate how hard it must have been for the early settlers towards the end of the Georgian era. Hobart was founded in 1804 under the control of Governor David Collins. At that stage it was still regarded as being ‘Van Diemen’s Land’ and the fact that the island was separate from the Australian mainland had only been discovered  five years before by Captain Bass (after whom the straits are named).

Getting there from Britain involved a journey of at least two months, sometimes longer. And when the settlers arrived, it must have been extraordinarily difficult carving out a livelihood in a land with no infrastructure – no established communities, no roads, no proper medical facilities. Those arriving were met by the gruesome sight of the gallows, where felons were hanged, and the gibbet where the corpses were left to rot. Some welcome! For Tasmania was a penal colony, and miscreants were sentenced to death for a myriad of minor mis-deeds.

Initially the main  opportunities for employment centred on whaling and fishing. But both were cruel masters. This was brought home to me when I visited the churchyard of Tasmania’s oldest church in Hobart. Here is one – just imagine how Elizabeth, the surviving widow  of Captain Laughton, must have struggled to bring up three children without a breadwinner and no social support! But survive she did, living another 42 years before her death in 1869.

Then there was the infant mortality rate. Look amongst the graves and you will find numerous poignant memorials: Here is one of them:

Those arriving on the island of their own free will had to face one other problem – a drastic shortage of female company! This got so bad that a committee was formed to try and encourage female immigration. Advertisements were placed in British newspapers. Finally, in 1851 The Beaulah docked at Hobart, carrying 169 single women. It must have been quite an eye-opener for the women – most of them were good Catholic girls from Ireland! The eligible bachelors waiting for them were neither good nor, in general, Catholic, but somehow or another the newcomers settled in and helped found the family units which struggled to tame the island in the years which followed.

Time and time again you come across records of people who died as children, or as young adults. These are memorials to people who crossed the world to make a new life, generally without support from older family members. A hard life indeed. The gravestone on the left is for a 27 year old ‘free settler’ (to distinguish him from a deportee) and on the right for a 12 year old ‘native boy’ named George Weston who for five years had been under the protection of Charles Connelly.