Mary (Gilman) Baker (1856 - 1936)

My grandma was the product of the Victorian era and had been shaped by that era's rather narrow outlook, and the privations of a Victorian childhood. She had a firm belief in God, and Heaven above the sky, with pearly gates, and the "good" people of this world, in white, sitting round the throne of God with the angels. She also believed in the fiery hell which she had heard about from the preachers of her time . She had a very short childhood, as the eldest of three children. Although her maternal aunt had married a prosperous grocer in Derby, her father was a retired soldier, who spent most of his pay on drink, in the days when public houses were open all day. The family was always short of money, except for the occasional hand-outs from the aunt. Grandma was sent to a Dames' school at eight years of age, but when she was eleven, she was sent into Service, as a Kitchen maid. She worked her way through the tiers of domestic work in a big house to become a cook, but at the age of nineteen, she married a stonemason and began grown up life. If she was looking for an improvement in her lot, she was certainly disappointed, as she had twelve children, nine of whom survived and although my Grandpa was a craftsman, he never earned sufficient for the needs of their large family. That they managed to cope with their circumstances and stay healthy was largely due to her good management of the small resources she had, by sewing, mending, and cooking wholesome meals. When things at times became desperate , she would go to her comfortably-off cousins in the grocery business and obtain help in the shape of provisions. This she would only do as a last resort, as she was very independent. Through all her privations she was sustained by her belief that God was behind everything and that he was good, and would provide for her, if she was content with her lot and did what she thought was right. From my first memories of her when I was about three years old, she was a small cottage-loaf shaped woman, with a pale complexion, dark brown eyes, and pitch-black hair scraped tightly back into a plait , which was coiled into a flat "bun" at the back of her head. Her hair never became grey, and she wore spectacles only for reading. Her mode of dress was quite austere; a dark tweed or serge skirt and a striped shirt-blouse. The latter garment was replaced on Sunday afternoons by a black satin blouse, with high neck line edged with lace, and a necklace of jet beads. To go to chapel, she donned a black straw hat with a rose or bunch of artificial violets on the side, and a costume coat with a shaped waist-line. When in the house, she always wore an apron on a waistband; a navy print one with a white flower sprig pattern for housework, and after mid-day, a white linen one. She never Quite mastered the art of writing; and depended on her family, including me as I grew older, to write letters for her. My Grandpa died when I was eighteen months old, and by that time her family had grown up and gone their various ways. There were no pensions or social security payments in those days, and as she lived in a rather large Victorian house, she started to take in four gentlemen boarders in the large spare bedrooms. She was soon able to buy herself a sewing machine, and take in dressmaking. My mother was one of her daughters, and my father died three months before I was born. My mother, much to my Grandma's disgust, remarried rather quicker than was the custom in those days, so Grandma took over my upbringing from the age of eighteen months this was about the time of Grandpa's death. From then on she carried out on me all the training she would have wished to give her own children, if she had less of them and more time. She dressed me immaculately in clothes she made on her machine, taught me to be "seen and not heard" and sent me regularly to Sunday School. On Sunday evenings I accompanied her to Chapel. She had little patience with illness, and merely dosed me with senna, hot poultices, or in the event of me crying with a grazed knee, used to say it would "hurt a lot more before it drops off'. She was very interesting when reminiscing, a good conversationalist, and in a pleasant straightforward voice, often sang to me hymns, or the old Music Hall songs she had heard when taken out as a rare treat by one of her cousins. She was a mine of wise sayings to fit every occasion, but mostly to soften adversity. One small rhyme which she quoted in every set-back or sorrow, often recurs to me :- "Have faith in God, the sun will shine. No winter storm lasts all the time". I would say that was the philosophy of her life. Her love of nature and the countryside never waned, and in summer she took me for long walks, gathering wild flowers. Her habits were quite rigid, her housework done on appointed days and times, with a "place for everything, and everything in its place". No housework except meal preparation was done on a Sunday, and my toys and children's books were put away. She had a very soft heart and a sad story would bring tears to her eyes. My Grandma died just short of her eightieth birthday. She lost none of her faculties but I suppose her body was just worn out, and she faded away, to go as she believed, "up to Heaven to wear a white robe and live with God and the angels. She was one of the truly great, anonymous Victorians.

J. Hill 12-10-81