Three Mackerel

From the Dover Express and East Kent News, Friday, 30 April, 1909.

THE STORY OP DOVER A CENTURY AGO.

TOLD BY MRS. ANN BAILEY, AGED 94.

In the year of the Battle of Waterloo, Ann, daughter of Edward Fry, was born in the little double-fronted, Dutch tiled house, next above the saw mill on Charlton Green. The quaint old dwelling is there still, but Ann Fry, who sixty-five years ago, by marriage, changed her name to Bailey, and has been fifty-six years a widow, now lives at 4, Trevanion Place, overlooking Old St. James’ churchyard, where her daughter carefully and devotedly attends her. Although she is but six years short of a centenarian, her mind is clear, her spirits good, and her memory remarkable. Our portrait shows her in her favourite seat by the cottage window, overlooking the old churchyard, where the afternoon sunbeams, slanting across God’s Acre, bathe her surroundings in a flood of golden light. By the aid of her spectacles, Mrs. Bailey can see to read comfortably, and if those who converse with her speak up, she can hear well enough to give clear and graphic replies, especially if the questions relate to her favourite topic — Old Dover. As points relating to the long-gone past are raised, she, with animated speech and many a merry laugh, tells of the fun of Charlton Fair, of the quaint doings at the tiny parish church before it was re-built in 1827, and other curious facts about Dover in the reign of the “Georges,” for this marvellous old Dover lady has lived under five sovereigns — George III., George IV., William IV., Victoria, and Edward VII. Her story of Old Dover, which we are sure will interest our readers, we will give, as nearly as possible, in her own words. In reply to questions, she said:

IN THE YEAR OF WATERLOO.

I was born at Charlton Green on 19th September, 1815. Edward Fry was my father; he was a cooper, and worked for Mr. Kingsford at the Charlton Oil Mills, and also for Mr. Walker at the Brewery which is now Leney’s. He was the first of the Frys who came to Dover. All the Frys of Dover were of the same family — they came from Sandwich.

ABOUT CHARLTON GREEN.

Charlton Green has changed a good bit since I was a child there. One of my playmates was the late Mr. George Clark, who started the nurseries. Right before our door just over the river, was St. Mary’s Workhouse. I often used to be taken there to see the inmates. Mr. Birch, who was afterwards Mayor of Dover, had to do with it. Charlton Mill was where it is now before I was born. When I was a child it was owned by Mr. Kingsford, who lived in the big house down below, which afterwards belonged to Dr. Sillery. The Mill was used for grinding corn in the summer and for crushing oil seed in the winter — and a very noisy mill it was in the winter with its stampers. There was no bridge then across the river, only a plank for foot passengers. The waggons, carts, horsemen and cattle to our delight used to splash through the water. There were great doings on the green at Charlton Fair, which was always held on quarter day — July 6th. There used to be swings and stalls and booths all down each side of the road. My father paid for me to go on the swings.

CHARLTON OLD CHURCH.

When I was a child Charlton Church stood close by the river. It was a poor little place, but was made larger in 1827. I used to go there before that time, but they only had services once a fortnight. The Rector then was Mr. Monins — a very good man, so they said, but he usually sent his curate from Ringwould to preach at Charlton — he used to ride over on a donkey. I was one of the singers at Charlton Church, and so was my husband. There was no organ then, but there was a clarionette, a serpent, a big bass viol, and other instruments. There were no houses at all below Charlton Green except Mr. Kingsford’s and three old cottages towards where the bottom of Park Avenue now is, until you come to Ashen-tree Lane Dairy. The road down that way was called Charlton Back Lane, and the land beside it was called Gorely’s Fields on the one side, and the Maison Dieu Park on the other. There was a wall round the Park until Mr. Moxon, the contractor, pulled it down and built Brook House there. There was another big fair that lasted a week; that was Bartholomew's Fair, kept at Buckland by Chapel Hill.

CHARLTON EXECUTION.

There was much talk of the executions at Black Horse Lane, Charlton, when I was a child. I remember seeing one man hanged there, and I shall never forget it. That was when I was seven years old. It was young Spence, who shot at an officer of coastguards. Spence’s people and the officer’s people lived in Dover, so there was a great to do when Spence was hung. I remember my school teacher held me up to see the poor fellow. I can see him now. I did feel sorry for him. The exact place of execution was at the four cross-roads, just where the road now leads up to Tower Hamlets, a little below the Turnpike Gate, which Mr. Bottle (the father of Mr. Alexander Bottle, the chemist) then kept.

DOVER SCHOOLS IN THE TWENTIES.

I went to school in Queen Street — not to the Charity School, but to the Quaker’s. There were a good many well-to-do Dover Quakers who kept up that school. There were the Poulters, Reynolds’, Horsnails, and others. They afterwards built a larger place at the foot of Durham Hill and called it the Girls’ School of Industry.

CHANGES AT THE MAISON DIEU.

When I left home at Charlton Green to go to service I went as servant to young Mr. Walker, whose father started the brewery which Leney’s now have. Young Mr. Walker lived in a good large house, which had a fine garden, right where the "Prince Albert Inn" now stands at the top of Biggin Street. The old Priory was just behind us with its farmhouse and ponds — and there were no other houses that way until you came to Maxton. I lived with Mr. Walker there when the Maison Dieu was bought by the Corporation and turned into a gaol, after which the old gaol in the Market Place was closed. While I remained in Mr. Walker’s service he moved to a new house that was built for him at Alfred Place.

ST. JAMES’ PARISH FOLK 80 YEARS AGO.

There was no Castle Street then, and no other houses up there except Mr. Jeken’s, which is now the Town Clerk’s Office, and Ashen Tree Dairy as now. Where Castle Street now is there were meadows and gardens, but there was the old road called Stembrook which ran from the back of St. Mary’s Church, through the river, without any bridge, and went to Dolphin Lane by the brewerv. There was some big houses about there then. Old Mr. Walker, of the brewery, lived in a large house in St. James’ Street. Mr. Peter Fector's residence was at Fector’s Place, where the Gas Offices are. Mr. John Finnis and Mr. George Stringer had houses in Dolph'n Place, but Mr. John Finnis afterwards moved and had his timber yard in Biggin Street. Mr. George Stringer was a farmer from Whitfield and had a big barn where Castle Place Cottages used to stand, and Victoria Park was then called Stringer's Field. Admiral Basely had a house in St James’ Street,' beside Fox Passage, and I recollect Mr. Edward Knocker coming to Castle Hill House. I also remember his father, Mr. William Knocker. He had to do with the Harbour, and I have often seen him walking arm-in-arm with the old Duke of Wellington to the Church there (St. James’ Old Church) to hold the Admiralty Court. Mr. William Knocker used to live down by the "York Hotel," where the Esplanade now is. He afterwards had a house and a paper mill at Bushy Ruff. There was a good lot of smuggling done when I was a girl an Charlton. The seamen used to bring up beautiful things, lace, gloves and silk; they never paid duty. My father would have nothing to do with smuggling. Only sometimes he bought some things from them. They all did it in those days.

REMINISCENCES OF THE FORTIES.

I was married in 1845, and came to live here at 4, Trevanion Place, and have lived here ever since. Mr. Trevanion’s house was about here, but it was before my time. I understand he owned nearly all the land here and up Lauriston, which wan called Little Walderehare. When I lived at Alfred Place with Mr. Walker there was only a little wooden house up there, and Mr. Fector afterwards built Lauriston House there, all the other part was then wood and warren. Wilson Gates had his farm beside Trevanion Street and on the other side of Woolcomber Street, near the sea, was Clarence House, where Madame Rice lived. She had a very large garden all down the side of Upper Townwall Street, and in the tall elm trees there was a rookery. Madame Rice was a very fine lady; she wore wonderfully big bonnets, but never gloves, because she said it wore them out! She kept a carriage and pair. Close by her garden, on the side of Woolcomber Street, was the Quaker’s burial ground, but they did not bury anyone there in my recollection. I remember the Round House in Townwall Street being built by Mr. John Shipdem, the Town Clerk. They said he built it round so that the devil should not catch him in a corner! Before he built that house there was a black-hole there, where they used to put prisoners. Woolcomber Street has been a good deal changed. There were very old houses where Exhibition Place is, but I cannot say if they belonged to the Wooloombers, who gave the name to the street. Mr. Marsh, the Mayor’s Sergeant, lived in one of them. I remember the old Rectory House at the corner of St. James’ Street and Woolcomber Street being taken down after I came to live here. It reached nearly up to the Church and made the entrance to Woolcomber Street and Trevanion Street very narrow. I cannot remember anything about St. James’ Poor House which was in Woolcomber Street, but my husband’s father, Richard Bailey, was a verger at Old St. James’ Church, and they used to pay the Poor Relief in the Vestry before the Dover Union was formed.

THE CONTRAST WITH LATER YEARS.

My husband died in 1853, when I was left with two children, who are still living. Although I have been 56 years a widow, I have never had parish relief, but I am having the Old Age Pension now, and the gentleman who came to see me about it was very kind and hoped I should live long to enjoy it. Yes, that (pointing to a photograph) was my likeness ten years ago, but I look different now; and that one up on the wall there is my likeness taken between fifty and sixty years ago, and the little child is my daughter taken at the same time by a travelling artist who was staying at the "Three Mackerel," Trevanion Street. That public house has long gone; it was at the comer of Woolcomber Lane, facing the grocer’s shop. I shall be very glad for you to have a photograph of me now, but you must take me as I am by the window here, for I am too old to get out of the house. I could have told you a great deal more about old Dover for the town has so changed and so grown since I was a child that it is hardly the same place. When I was a child there were but two houses on the sea front — Smiths Folly under the Castle, and the "York Hotel" by the Harbour. The bay outside the river was a wide stretch of shingle used as a rope walk and as a military Parade. There were no railways, no steamboats, and no gas light. I don’t know what the population was, but it could not have been a quarter what it is now.