My 3G-grandparents Timothy Walsh and Johanna Power were both Irish, he born in Glin, County Limerick, about 1804, and she from County Kerry.
The oldest original document in my collection is their 1831 marriage certificate. The tattered paper records their marriage on January 8, 1831, at St. Mary’s Church, St. Marylebone, London, England.
Although Johanna was Roman Catholic, they married in an Anglican church. Timothy signed his name, while Johanna, apparently illiterate, marked the certificate with an X.
Johanna gave birth to their first child, William Patrick—my 2G-grandfather—on November 2, 1832, in London, and he was christened at St. James Roman Catholic Church, Spanish Place, London, on the 18th of that month. His baptism certificate records the alternate spelling of the family surname as Welch; another common variant was Welsh.
Shortly thereafter, it appears the family returned to Ireland, where second son John was born, in Limerick, about 1834. But by the time of daughter Ellen’s arrival around 1838 they were once again back in London.
Timothy joined the City of London Police force on December 31, 1838, warrant number 283, divisional or collar number 326. Prior to joining the police, he had been employed in the Coastguard’s blockade service, whose role was the suppression of smuggling.
The City of London Police was a distinct force from the Metropolitan Police. When the Metropolitan force was established in 1829, the City of London resisted attempts to consolidate the policing of The City and Greater London with a single force and instead chose to continue with traditional constables to enforce the law throughout its one square mile. Just three years later, reform was introduced to the City force with the establishment of daytime duty comprising a superintendent, inspectors and sergeants, and 85 constables, but policing of the City at night continued with the traditional ward constables and watchmen. By 1839, the City force was deemed inadequate and its numbers were expanded to take over the duties of both police and watchmen day and night. It is precisely at this point that the unemployed Timothy Walsh applied for a job in the City of London Day & Night Watch.
Timothy had applied for the police position with reference letters attesting to his steady, honest and sober character. His employment record would belie that, however, documenting a number of “reports” against him including drunkenness (2), neglect of duty (5), absent from beat (1), gossiping (1), late (1) and irregularities (1).
The life of a policeman at that time was an incredibly difficult job, as described in the following excerpt from the TV series “Who Do You Think You Are” (UK season 3, episode 7) profiling actor Jeremy Irons. His ancestor, Thomas Irons, was a constable with the Metropolitan Police, and the working environment would have been no different for those who, like Timothy Walsh, patrolled the heart of the City.
Narrator: “When Thomas became a policeman in 1839, London was a lawless and violent place. Pickpockets flourished in the crowded streets. Stabbings and murders were commonplace. It was the London of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist. Robert Peel had established a metropolitan police force in 1829. Its policemen quickly became know as “Peelers.” To join a man must be under 35, strong, healthy and at least 5’7.” The Peelers were extremely unpopular and considered working-class traitors.
“To find out more about Thomas’ life as a Peeler, Jeremy is meeting Maggie Bird at the Metropolitan Archives.”
Jeremy: “What did that mean, to be a policeman in 1840?”
Maggie Bird: “Well, it was a very tough job. And they were told that they would be stoned, that they would be expected to walk 20 miles a day, and they would have to have what I always call an anti-garroting collar on. This is a leather stock that would go around the neck. … For the rakes of the day, it was good fun and you could easily rob someone with a bit of cheese wire. … And then they had to wear top hats before the helmets came in. These were reinforced top hats … so they could stand on them to look over walls and things.
“Unfortunately, drinking water was non-existent so they took to drinking beer because it was the safest thing and easiest available to drink. Which, of course, led to quite a lot of drunkenness and a lot of officers were dismissed.”
Despite these difficult conditions, Timothy Walsh served 15 years as a constable, eventually retiring from the City of London Police on February 23, 1854, with a pension of 15 shillings per week.
It is unknown whether Timothy undertook any further employment following his retirement from the police. He was discharged as unfit for further police services so it’s possible he was unwell. It is likely his pension was insufficient income to make ends meet, so Johanna worked as a laundress, a job that lacked social respectability but was one of the few occupations available to married women.
Before the existence of electric washing machines, laundry was labour-intensive work, and families would pay someone else to do it for them if they could afford it. Unless the Walsh house had running water—and many working class areas did not—gallons of water would have had to be fetched from a pump or well and then heated in a large copper boiler in the kitchen. Clothes and linens were then sorted, soaked and treated for stains, before being scrubbed in a wooden tub and pounded with a wooden implement known as a “dolly”; whites and very dirty work clothes were separately boiled in the copper. After rinsing, wringing and flattening, everything was hung to dry, usually indoors in urban areas such as London where the outdoor air was polluted and sooty. Finally, once dry, the clothes were ironed with a heavy iron heated on the stove. The whole process spanned several grueling days and Johanna would have been occupied with washing and ironing from early morning until late at night every day.
Timothy and Johanna do not appear in the 1861 census for England and I surmise they were likely back home in Ireland at this point (Irish census records for that timeframe have not survived). What is known is that in 1871, they were residing in Timothy’s birthplace of Glin, in the parish of Kilfergus. His will, written in August of that year, describes him as being “in delicate health.” He died three years later, age 70, of asthma.
In the name of God Amen.
I, Timothy Walsh of Glin, Parish of Kilfergus, Co. Limerick being at present in delicate health but of sound mind, memory and understanding do make and constitute this my last will & testament in manner & form following.
I leave & bequeath the house, premises, goods, furniture & chattels of every kind & description of which I am at present seized & possessed in the town of Glin to my beloved wife Johanna Walsh.
Also to my beloved wife Johanna Walsh I leave & bequeath the sum of two hundred (£200) pounds sterling lodged at present in the Bank of England at Sothberry, City of London.
I also appoint & ordain Edward Dore of Glin, and Michael Culhane of Glin as executors of this my last will & testament.
Signed, sealed & delivered this twentieth day of August in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred seventy one.
John Costello, Tenekille
Patt Shanahan, Glin
Witnesses
Following Timothy’s death, Johanna ultimately returned once again to London, likely to be near son William and family. She died of chronic bronchitis on July 28, 1880, at the age of 77, and is buried in St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery.
Johanna died without a will. Although she left an estate valued at £188, she had lived in “only one room poorly furnished,” with her possessions valued at a mere £6.
And what became of the Walsh children? No trace of son John can be found after 1851 when he is recorded on the census, age 17, as a printer. It’s possible he had died, moved to Ireland or emigrated overseas, but I have had no luck tracing him given his very common name together with the surname variants.
The life of daughter Ellen was a sad one—the wayward teenager led an “immoral life,” engaging in prostitution from the age of at least 15. You can read Ellen’s story here.
The eldest Walsh son, William, acting as administrator of his mother’s estate in 1880, was described as her only next of kin, suggesting that both of his siblings were no longer living by that point. William joined the army in 1849 and went on to lead an upstanding life, which I have recounted in a separate blog post.
It’s very impressive that you have found so many original documents. Were they handed down through the family or did you have to go searching?
These documents were discovered in my grandparents’ house after they died back in 1972, found in a heavy strongbox under the basement stairs! Wish I’d known about them when they were alive; so many questions I would have liked to ask. In any case, they were the impetus behind my interest in family history.
Yes, I too have many questions I would have liked to ask my parents and grandparents, alas now too late. At least you have some good hard copy.