Chapter Nine - Two and a Half Cups of Tea

St James Park, London by Joseph Murray Ince

Afternoons visiting Henry's London relatives were spent in repetition, balancing cups of tea while relaying news about the family. Charlotte would sink gracefully into the chair, trying not to cross her feet, maintaining a poise that left her exhausted at the end of each visit. She knew how to act, and often acting it was, mindful not to appear too anxious or indifferent, never dull and especially not overly sensible. All were dreaded characteristics Charlotte found herself juggling as if second nature, for she had learned the ins and outs of etiquette on the steady arm of Henry Pyefinch. She silently praised him for it now.

Although there is little way to know all the emotions, temperaments and actions of our ancestors and kin, with the names of family members, friends, acquaintances, locations, circumstances, surroundings, and pastimes, their lives come into view as if we are invited into their homes as well. I would wager that Henry would be the talk of the family right now. Charlotte would be on display. Joseph would be picturing his next landscape, and through their comings and goings, the journey of this story comes alive.

The home of Henry's aunt Isabella was grand. Overlooking Fitzroy Square, it was four stories high with tall pilasters stretching upward, arches, oversized windows, Corinthian columns, masonry carvings, and five decorative bullseye windows across the attic front, all the things Charlotte expected there would be. There was no mistaking that they did well for themselves. Isabella was the sister of Henry's father, Henry Robert Ince. Like his father before him, her husband, George Cowell, was a brandy merchant, having been in partnership with his brother John Brickley Cowell. They had six children: three sons and three daughters, ages fifteen to thirty.

A print of Fitzroy Square dated 1800. John and Isabella Cowell lived on the far right at 30 Fitzroy Square (soon renumbered to 36), behind the woman in the blue dress. You can see their five attic windows across the top and the centre chimney. 

As the lady of the house, Isabella filled them in on the whereabouts of her sons. Lambert, a lieutenant in the 19th Regiment of Foot, would leave for Trinidad next month. William was attending university in Glasgow, soon to be a physician, and George, the eldest, having attended Trinity College, was now a clergyman at Berkeley Chapel in Mayfair, Westminster, keeping important company, including that of the William Whitfield Dakins, chaplain to Prince Frederick, the Duke of York. The Reverend Doctor, she would anxiously point out, happens to have an available daughter who undoubtedly has caught George's eye. With her father's consent, their oldest daughter, Isabella had taken to corresponding with cousin Charles Vogel Ince, the son of Charles Ince. Charles Jr. was a merchant in Jamaica with expectations, currently settling the estate of his deceased business partner. Still, there was little doubt he'd be making a special visit to see Isabella before too long.

Finding a suitable marriage match was essential to a mother. One that often left the household in a frenzy for months. Young girls grew up in fear of being left "on the shelf," while young men tried to avoid the doom-filled plunge into the marriage mart for as long as they could. If all finally came into play, and often with the mother staging the courtship as if it was a play, marriage could help retain the family's social status; the son would fulfil his role, and the daughter would be provided for. That's not to say that parents didn't wish love and companionship for their children; they often did, but for the most part, it was not on top of their list. After all, love was for romantics. There may be time for that later.

from the London Morning Adviser, September 23, 1826.
(Oh but no leaden case please...)

Charlotte could read the eyes of servants but was stumped when it came to Henry's family. They seemed to accept her, and she did not know why. Henry was locked in the chair, palms on his knees, eyeing the mid-day refreshments. An ornate sideboard, which may have very well been his grandfather's design, hosted a pyramid of apples and pears with platters of scones, little ginger cakes, and cold sliced meat. Isabella was preparing the tea while her oldest daughters, Anna Maria and Isabella, entertained with extravagant stories of Regent Street and preparations for the coming London season. Joseph was across the room at a table by the window with the youngest, Charlotte Grace. A painting box was brought out for her to show him. One that had held her dreams since she was a child. Almost fifteen years old, Charlotte Grace was beguiled by drawing and could not hold back her excitement for his company. The sketches in her notebook quickly revealed her love of portraits, and it was evident that their grandfather's talent had touched both their hands.

There was talk about Uncle Frederick Ince, the brother of Henry and Joseph's father and Aunt Isabella. He had written from West Virginia, admitting that his farming endeavour was taking a toll on him. He was currently living in Turkey Run, outside Wheeling, using the name John Smith. It was almost two years from the day that he embarked on this journey, sailing from Newport in Wales to New York. It was a sea crossing that took over fifty days to a country entirely unbeknownst to him. Yet he did not give up. He sadly implied he had no choice but to leave Martha and the children in England, for after his employers went bankrupt, debt would have only followed him had he continued as a coachmaker. Frederick had hoped Martha would have shared his dream, but in all honesty, when she heard he wanted to be a sheep farmer at his age, she thought he lost his mind. They knew she was accustomed to a lifestyle much different from his now and had little faith in there ever being a reconciliation.

Somewhere within the withdrawing room was mention of the woman who sailed with Uncle Frederick, Mrs Smith, her real name forgotten. The gossip that hounded Isabella's sister-in-law from all of this made her cringe. She knew how hard one works to avoid such things. There was compassion for the children and concern over Frederick's daughter, Caroline. She was so unhappy in her marriage. The family feared she may have married at such a young age, no matter what the condition or character of her husband, just to take the burden off her mother. Henry was listening, revering his uncle's pursuit all the while. He probably had his own ideals of farming stirring inside him. Still, politely, he nodded his head. Charlotte, neither here nor there, was beginning to realise the tremendous upkeep that goes into staying sociably acceptable.

Painting of Joseph Murray Ince, attributed to his former teacher and friend, artist David Cox

Joseph had an angelic face that beamed when he spoke. His eyes caught sight of colours and shadows that seemed to reflect in his words. He was an artist, no doubt. In June, at the newly established Society of British Artists in London, Joseph exhibited eight of his paintings, all Welsh landscapes, minus one which was of the adjacent English county of Herefordshire, an accomplishment for his twenty years. The previous month, at the Royal Academy in London, Joseph displayed his watercolour, Mill in Dolgelly. He likely sketched the mill while visiting North Wales with his former teacher, artist David Cox, who was especially fond of the Mawddach Valley in Gwynedd. Joseph talked about meeting up with him next summer in Hastings. The small seaside fishing town had become the go-to place, second only to Brighton. And while its west end boomed with fashionable resorts and trendy shops, attracting stylish visitors from all over England to its therapeutic baths and briny air, Hasting's cliffs, sea, and sky remained the sole remedy sought by inspired artists with so many paintings waiting to be born.

Old photograph of painting by Joseph Murray Ince, could very well be "Mill in Dolgelly"

Isabella's husband, George Cowell, likely returned home from his daily routine earlier than usual to greet them. George had been kind to the Ince family. He stood by them throughout the ongoing Ince and Mayhew court settlement. He was an executor of the wills of both William and Ann Ince, alongside his brother John Cowell. With his excellent business sense, the family depended on him in these matters. In addition to Isabella's parents, Henry and Joseph's mother, Ann Elizabeth Saunders, witnessed George and Isabella's marriage in 1795. This was before she married, and although she was highly likely engaged to Henry Robert Ince at the time, it suggests that Ann Elizabeth and Isabella were friends.

George Cowell was a busy man. An advertisement in London's Morning Herald newspaper shows that their home had a six-stall stable and double carriage house. Without a doubt, their horse and carriage driver was also kept busy. Many mornings, George Cowell would oversee the import of brandy and rum, check profits, and meet with clients at the Cowell business on Water Lane, Thames Street, not far from the Tower of London, a location several miles from his home that his father held for many years. George would spend much of his time maintaining valuable connections. It was important for trade and social status that he was found in the right place at the right time, seeing people of position and gaining their acquaintance. There were gentlemen's clubs to visit, where he would wager opinions on politics and the latest inventions, maybe smoke a cigar and touch on topics he no longer discussed at home now that his sons had left the house. Most likely, he regularly stopped at a coffeehouse to read the paper, catching up on sports and news from the continent. One such coffeehouse was the popular Hasbro', located next to him on Water Lane and frequented by sugar dealers with whom he shared an interest.

Twelve years earlier, in 1814, at a time when Britain's most profitable import was sugar, George Cowell became involved in the Hopewell sugar estate in Hanover, Jamaica, when his brother John Brickley Cowell loaned money to a deceased friend's nephew, William White Jr, who had inherited the estate a decade prior from his uncle and namesake, William White Sr. The estate was deeply in debt, and upon the loan, John B Cowell appointed his brother George Cowell and a wealthy distiller acquaintance, later known as Sir Felix Booth, as trustees of the loan. As a result, George Cowell and Felix Booth gained possession of the estate. In turn, they consigned the sugar and rum produce to John B Cowell, minus a small percentage that went to William White Jr. They did this up until about 1823. At this time, the sugar and rum estate held over one hundred enslaved people.

George's brother John B Cowell, having served as a trustee, gained possession of two other sugar plantations, Llandovery and Flat Point, both situated in St Ann, Jamaica and both previously owned by his deceased friend William White Sr. In 1825, upon his death, his only son, John Welsford Cowell, inherited possession of the estates. In 1826, the time of this story, the Llandovery and Flat Point estates held over three hundred and ninety slaves in total.

Advertised in the London Morning Herald, September 11, 1826

The Cowell family was not alone in this matter. Any family with any sort of wealth during the Regency period, whether an ordinary gentleman or of the highest elite, touched upon slavery. People may have been divided in their humanitarian ethics and politics, but in their day-to-day living, families were supported, businesses built, inheritances passed down, doweries made, tables set, coffee pots filled, and prosperous associations kept kindled, all indirectly or directly, through slave owners. The West Indies, out of sight, with its broken lives of slaves, existed far from people's minds. It should be mentioned that in a similar instance, lost in people's thoughts were the seventy per cent of Britain's population that was working class, the majority of which lived crammed in squalor, with no education, existing in extreme poverty. Thank goodness to those who persisted in making a change. The use of British ships in the slave trade came to an end in 1807 after almost thirty years of campaigning. Twenty-five years later, in July 1833, Parliament passed the Slavery Abolition Act banning the buying or owning of slaves in most of the British Empire, including the West. It was put into effect the following year. Estate owners were in an uproar. This led to the Slave Compensation Act in December 1837, when slave owners were paid close to twenty million pounds in compensation for freeing their slaves. The enslaved people received freedom but nothing more. To survive, they had little option but to enter another form of slavery, indentureship. John Welsford Cowell, the heir and son of George Cowell's brother John, was awarded over seven thousand pounds for the Llandovery and Flat Point Estates. An amount that is close to a million pounds today.

How Henry, Joseph, and Charlotte felt about slavery remains unsaid. It was certainly not the kind of thing you brought up at cordial visits, but Henry's Uncle George's connection in the past to slavery, no matter how dithered, was clear.

The conversation lulled, and the late-day sunlight crept along the edges of the drapery. Charlotte's bonnet was still tied snugly beneath her chin, and with her shawl perfectly balanced upon her shoulders, she sat as any proper lady would do. She was certain visiting calls were relatively short because no one could dare sit straight this long, but this was not the ordinary call. It was a family visit, well over an hour long, beyond the length of three calls. She glanced at the Cowell sisters on the sofa, a book of poetry shared between them; their light-heartedness, dramatic swoons and drollery were a delight. For a moment, Charlotte was lost in the sound, hearing her own siblings' voices, until scandalous Lord Byron brought her back again. Is it true, Charlotte wondered, that young women still carry miniature portraits of Lord Byron? Perhaps Henry's aunt Isabella joined in with Charlotte's thoughts, for there is an interesting story to tell.

In the summer of 1808, George's brother John B Cowell and his family were introduced to Lord George Gordon Byron while on holiday in Brighton. Their son John Welsford Cowell, about age twelve at the time, took a liking to playing with Byron's dogs. Not long after, Byron wrote a letter on the Cowell's behalf to the provost of Eton College, Francis Hodgson, a close friend of his, requesting that he would "receive the son of a citizen of London, well known to me, as a pupil, the family having been particularly polite during the short time I was with them induced me to this application." The pupil was young John Welsford Cowell.

In 1812, this time out of kindness for another friend's son starting Eton College, Lord Byron wrote to John W Cowell, who was now sixteen years old, asking him to help watch over a fellow Etonian. "Let me beg of you then to take some little notice of him at first, til he is able to shift for himself". He and John corresponded while John attended Trinity College in Cambridge. Later, in 1822, John visited Byron in Italy. It was an acquaintance that had lasted over the years.

Lord George Gordon Byron 

Letter to John Welsford Cowell from Lord Byron, 22 October 1814.
NY Public Library Digital Collection.

Lord Byron died at age thirty-four in 1824, and upon his death, his good friend and chosen biographer, Irish poet Thomas Moore, began to compile his letters. In interviewing John W Cowell in June 1828, Thomas noted these things in his diary - "Breakfasted with Mr. Cowell having made his acquaintance for the purpose of gaining information about Lord Byron. Knew Byron for the first time when he himself was a little boy, from being in the habit of playing with B.'s dogs. Byron wrote to him to school to bid him mind his prosody. Gave me two or three of his letters to him. Saw a good deal of Byron at Hastings; mentioned the anecdote about the ink bottle striking one of the lead Muses. These Muses had been brought from Holland, and there were, I think only eight of them arrived safe. Fletcher had brought Byron a large jar of ink, and, not thinking it was full, B. had thrust his pen down to the very bottom; his anger at finding it comes out all besmeared with ink made him chuck the jar out of the window when it knocked down one of the Muses in the garden and deluged her with ink. In 1813, when Byron was at Salt Hill, he had Cowell over from Eton and "pouched" him no less than ten pounds (that is over 800 pounds today). Cowell has ever since kept one of the notes. Told me a curious anecdote of Byron's mentioning to him as if it had made a great impression on him, their seeing Shelley (poet Percy Bysshe Shelley), as they thought, walking into a little wood at Lerici, when it was discovered afterwards that Shelley was at that time in quite another direction. 'This,' said Byron, in a sort of awe-struck voice, 'was about ten days before his death.' Cowell's imitation of his look and manner very striking." Thomas Moore, Memoirs, Journals, Vol. 5 pg. 302, 303.

The clock in the other room chimed again. Henry had picked up his hat from alongside the chair. They had spent the better part of the afternoon sipping at least two and a half cups of tea, much longer than ever intended, but all was presumably forgiven, for upon leaving, Aunt Isabella extended her hand and, unless Charlotte imagined it, Isabella clasped hers a bit tighter than expected.

(A special thank you to cousin Sarah Ingle for the valuable information on Frederick Ince)