Chapter Two - A Second Child

      

The turn of the year came quickly, and 1824 passed along in usual fashion; Saturday market days, hiring fairs, the hustle of peddlers, Radnorshire Turnpike meetings, and the fanfare of Assizes and Quarter Sessions spilling from the Shire Hall. Charlotte's sister Ann gave birth to her first child, Frederick, that summer, and now, with eight grandchildren among the siblings, the Vaughn family was ever alive with the clatter of children's voices. In the midst of winter, Charlotte gave birth to a daughter, Matilda Jessey Pyefinch Vaughn, baptized on the first Sunday in March 1825. I am sure that this time, when young Charlotte approached St Andrew's heavy arched wooden doors, she appeared vastly more confident. For the baby bore as its middle name the surname of its father.

Baptism entry for Charlotte’s daughter Matilda Jessie Pyefinch Vaughan, 6 Mar 1825,
Presteigne, Radnorshire

The man in Charlotte's life was Henry Pateshall Pyefinch, a surgeon and established bachelor of the local gentry. He was a bit older than Charlotte, thirty-five years older, and approaching his mid-fifties when the children were born. Charlotte was about age seventeen. All in town recognized the Pyefinch name. Not only was he now the father of two born outside marriage, but he was the eldest son of a well-known Presteigne attorney; much would be expected of him. Unquestionably, people would have a host of things to say under their breath, for Charlotte, with just a simple twist of fate, had become the envy of many young girls in a similar but less fortunate situation.

Although I am uncertain where Henry Pateshall Pyefinch lived on Broad Street, an advertisement in the Hereford Journal lends insight into his home. It is described as a "neat and convenient house" complete with stables, a gig house, extensive gardens, and a malt house. My thoughts wander to those "extensive gardens," wondering if part of the property had been dedicated to medicinal healing? Might it include chamomile, mint and sage, tansy and feverfew, colt's foot? Lavender? Were its hedges filled with elderflowers and berries? That year the summer was the driest on record, and temperatures climbed higher than they had in years. Did Charlotte and the children spend evenings outside with Henry in the garden seeking a bit of cool air – did she have such liberty? Or was her relationship with Henry P. curiously much more distant than that? Little Joseph Jesse was now very much a toddler, and it appears he and Matilda were well looked after, for even knowing so little about Henry P. Pyefinch, in time, he comes across not just as dutiful but as a caring man. How he and Charlotte became acquainted is unknown. He employed servants; was she initially hired on as one herself? Or was Henry Pateshall Pyefinch just plain smitten by her outgoing spirit and ever-resilient way? One that still leaves an impression after all these years. Although her steps have faded into those gardens, and much remains a whisper, I can still picture her.

Description of Henry Pateshall Pyefinch home on Broad Street, 1830, Hereford Journal

As Britain's Regency period formally began, Henry P. Pyefinch was in the prime of his career. In 1809, he became surgeon to Presteigne's county gaol following the death of Hector Applebury Cooksey. Such duties included checking in on inmates, tending to medical needs, and overseeing the daily requirement of nourishment. Not surprisingly, conditions were questionable. The prison was small, dirty, and with little ventilation. The daily allotment was bread and water unless one could pay for additional rations. Straw was the only bedding until the following year, when prisoners were given blankets. With an average of twelve prisoners at a time and only one gaoler, many were kept in irons. There was one exercise courtyard; men and women were not confined separately. This was a time when there were over two hundred offences in Britain punishable by death. Stealing any personable item, no matter how small, could bring such a fate. Hangings took place outside the county gaol within forty-eight hours. Although not all prisoners faced such a bleak destiny, those fortunate to be spared the gallows often met transportation to Australia. For years the prison was close to Henry P.'s home, just a few short minutes down the well-worn cobbled pavement. Unless, of course, he ran into a mother in desperate need with a sick child, or some long-winded neighbourhood banter, even a stray farm animal or two, all of which was not unlikely.

Henry Pateshall Pyefinch, named after his father, was born in 1769 and christened in Presteigne on December 17 of that year. His father, Henry Pateshall Pyefinch, son of Henry Pyefinch and Mary Goodere of Presteigne, was an attorney at law who served as a Radnorshire undersheriff. His mother, Elinor Jones, was the daughter of John Jones, a maltster, and Margaret Badland and was born in Kington, a small market town close to the Welsh border, about seven miles from Presteigne. Henry P. had two sisters, Eleanor and Mary, the three of them close in age. Eleanor married Whitmore Blashfield, a surgeon, and lived in her husband's home parish, Abergavenny, Monmouthshire. Their only child, Eleanor, appears to have died young. As suggested by an 1835 inquiry in the Hereford Journal, her marriage to William Blashfield was not a happy one for following a move to London, Whitmore Blashfield journeyed to India where he practiced medicine, and Eleanor relocated to Bristol, passing away sometime before 1830. The inquiry, posted by William Stephens, a solicitor in Presteigne, appears to be a measure needed in settling the estate of Henry P's mother, who passed away in November 1822. Mary, Henry's youngest sister, married John Taylor Stephens, also a surgeon, and lived in Kington. Sadly, she passed away at age twenty-three in 1796, after the birth of their third child. The three children, ages thirteen, ten, and nine, suffered a loss again with the early death of their father ten years later.

At the age of eighteen, in 1788, Henry P. Pyefinch began his apprenticeship across the adjacent county of Herefordshire with apothecary and surgeon Joseph Severne who lived outside Bromyard in Munderfield House. It appears Henry was following after his uncle George Rodd Pyefinch or his great uncle Hugh Pyefinch, both surgeons. Insight into the training he received can be found in a patent his master Joseph Severne held for "Aromatic Ague Cake," a hearty remedy for those suffering from malarious fevers accompanied by chills, sweats, and general malaise, made from exotic querango bark, cinnamon, caraway, capsicum, and more. Enthusiastic Mr. Severne sold an array of herbal cures, from pungent Bloom Cephalic Snuff to his popular Worm Tea. It is likely Henry P. became acquainted with his master's use of herbs and spices, and at the end of his seven-year indenture, at the age of twenty-five, chose to pursue surgical training, a customary practice of the time. This would combine the best of both worlds. Not only would he be aware of medicines and cure-alls – herbs, spices, tonics, antidotes, comfits, purgatives, and more, but he would be able to perform surgical procedures, treat external injuries, and be skilled in bloodletting and bone setting.

Henry P Pyefinch's apothecary apprenticeship with Joseph Severne, 1788

Regarded as beneath doctors in the realm of the late 1700s medical hierarchy, surgeons and surgeon-apothecaries were not allowed to hold such a title. Yet they were expected to fill in for a formal physician when one was unavailable. On a side note, Henry P. Pyefinch must have experienced a bit of excitement during his apprenticeship while living in the Severne household. Joseph Severne's sixteen-year-old daughter Mary was "stolen" off while walking with her governess one day by Mr William Stinton, a servant with the intent of marriage. To the dismay of her father and "contrary to his intent and inclination," Mr. Severne published newspaper notices requesting the clergy to stay alert and not to allow such a marriage. He offered a reward for aiding in her safe return. The newspaper notices went on for two months. All the while, the couple were miles away and wedded in Surrey. On a lighter note, he may well have preferred her running off with Mr. Pyefinch.

With the Pyefinch name established in the Presteigne area, it makes perfect sense Henry P. chose to return to his hometown as a country practitioner. On any typical day, he would grab his leather bag filled with dressings and bandages, quinine, mustard oil, powders, small bottles of this and that, and a frightening array of surgical tools considered quite alarming today, setting out on foot to neighbouring streets. When travelling further from home, he would take his "gig," a light two-wheeled cart pulled by a horse, and hurry down the rutted twisted lanes alongside cloistered hillsides, aided at night by only a pair of oil lamps. I find myself hoping his gig was a fancier hooded one for those rainy days that pass so readily through Radnorshire. There were several surgeons in town, and although a surgeon's fee was more reasonable than a doctor's, it was still a costly, unwelcomed necessity for most Presteigne families. Aside from common ailments and injuries to name a few, there was consumption, dysentery, apoplexy, scrofula, dropsy, and whooping cough. Dangerous childhood diseases were frequent. When it came to childbirth, female friends and family would often assist. Sometimes a paid midwife would be an option, and always a surgeon would be expected to fill in, especially in the case of an emergency.

In 1811 Henry P. became surgeon of the Radnorshire Regiment of the Local Militia, which met annually in Presteigne for training. Politically he was a Whig in favor of reform and a founding member of Presteigne's Association for the Prosecution of Felons. At a time when a police force was nonexistent, the association, established in 1812, offered rewards for petty thievery in hopes of cutting back on crime. Henry P. was also a Freemason, belonging to the Royal Edward Lodge in Leominster. In 1808, his name appeared in a Hereford newspaper to help establish an annual Presteigne May fair, which, in addition to selling livestock, would include a hiring fair for employing servants and laborers. His name appears again in support of a yearly town Autumn fair offering the sale of animals, cheese, butter, and the like. In 1824 Henry P. became an annual subscriber to the Hereford Infirmary, donating one guinea a year, equal to well over one hundred pounds today. Wealthy families were treated at home or in a privileged situation, but most people could not afford medical care, leaving hospitals relying on donations to help ease the cost. As a subscriber, Henry P. would receive tickets enabling him to sponsor both in-patients and out-patients.

Times were changing now, and Presteigne had become a place of transition. Further from Henry P.'s Broad Street home, on the east side of town, a new county gaol opened in 1821. With its eighteen-foot-high walls, thirty-five cells, three wards, and four airing rooms, it readily replaced the old crumbling prison that had supported many escapees and stood for years as a judicial embarrassment. The new prison, described yet as one of the worst in Wales, ironically did not keep prisoners from escaping. In fact, in April 1825, just months after baby Matilda was born, all the prisoners escaped. Having overpowered the gaol keeper, they robbed him of keys, pistols, and swords, locking him up inside one of the cells. The timing was not very good, though. A group of Visiting Magistrates had just arrived in town, greeted by a group of townspeople. After seeing what had just happened, they were chased after, and soon all seven escapees were rounded up, but only after putting up a good fight. We can be sure the day's excitement was told over a pint of ale for quite some time. With the completion of the new gaol, plans followed for a new Shire Hall on the site of the old gaol. Construction began in 1825, complete with comfortable accommodations for traveling judges. Charlotte could almost watch from the window, though I am not sure which window that would be, for although her children's baptismal records say her residence is St David's Street, it could well be that she lingered elsewhere in the company of Henry Pateshall Pyefinch.

A Rural Scene, by Joseph Murray Ince

At this point, I am sure Charlotte wanted to believe everything would be alright. She now shares two children with Henry P. Surely, this would mean something. His position would not falter. Men were often decades older than their future wives, and he has brought her gifts and confided in her over the smallest things. She has watched him examine the children as a seasoned practitioner and caught the gleam in his eyes of a father. She has grown up with him, faced womanhood, and tried her best to please him while accepting her own limitations. Yet even with such willing thoughts of hopefulness, her mind was shifting forward. She knew her place in society, yet it would not keep her beholden. Charlotte was willing to go out on a limb to be loved.