John Ridout pays his bills!

Theoretically anyway, it’s easy to trace a nineteenth century chap’s whereabouts… if certain records are available to you. Luckily for me, Bath is blessed with two great repositories, the Bath Central Library and the very excellent Bath Record Office; both are free to use and centrally located.

In my x3 great grandparents’ day, those folk living above the poverty line had to pay money towards the care of those who lived below it (poor rate) and for the maintenance of roads, sewers, lighting and other general amenities of the area (city rate). These sums of money were collected quarterly in Bath and were based on the annual value of the property occupied by the payee. The payments were meticulously recorded in rate books, which can be very helpful in showing where the ratepayer lived at any given time and sometimes even when they moved into or out of an address.

Another useful genealogical resource is the trade or postal directory. When these were first published in the mid-eighteenth century, only the more ‘respectable’ people in the community, such as the clergy, lawyers, doctors and landed gentry, were listed. As time went on more and more ‘ordinary’ folk were recorded too and so these books can reveal where our humbler ancestors lived or worked.  In 1807, John RIDOUT was a newly married man and may have just finished serving a cabinet-maker’s apprenticeship. At the age of twenty-one he was probably too young to rent his own property or to run his own business and so he appeared in neither rate books nor trade directories. He could have remained ‘invisible’ for much longer had not he and his wife Sarah started a family.

In 1809, the couple had their first daughter, Alice, baptised in the parish church of Walcot, followed in 1811 by son John. The family’s address wasn’t recorded in the register but at least John was once more in the records. By 1814, daughters Jane and Susan had been baptised in St Michael’s, a church at the top of Northgate Street. Susan’s baptism helpfully recorded her parent’s address as 24 Broad Street and so at last I could actually visualise my family living somewhere! I searched the rate books for St Michael’s parish and found that John’s tenancy of number 24 had actually started between Midsummer (21st June) and Michaelmas (29th September) 1812.

Kirkhams Buildings prior to demolition in 1966. Image courtesy of Bath in Time

Sadly, Jane and Susan died at Broad Street, both of them just five months old.  John and Sarah moved out of town, according to the rate books, ‘before Midsummer 1816’ and became the new tenants of 4 Kirkham’s Buildings in Bathwick, between Christmas Day 1815 and Lady Day (25th March) 1816. Sarah may have been pregnant when they moved since their son Henry was baptised at the old St Mary’s church in Bathwick during December 1816. I have hypothesised that John took his family out of the city centre because it was, by all standards, a bad place in which to bring up small children… they’d lost two, possibly three (I never ‘saw’ Alice again).  Much as I have always loved Bath, I have to concede that in the early nineteenth century the city was probably a filthy, smelly, noisy and possibly even dangerous place to live. From their house in Broad Street, it was just a short hop to the slaughterhouse in Walcot Street and to the stinking, highly polluted River Avon beyond. Outside in the roadway, the noisy clattering of horses’ hooves and iron-rimmed coach wheels on the cobblestones must have been incessant as this narrow hill was on the main route to London.

The move to the countryside, as Bathwick largely was then, may have saved the baby but did not spare the mother; Sarah was buried just five days after Henry’s baptism and had died perhaps as a consequence of his birth. She was thirty-two. John stayed in Kirkham’s Buildings for several more years and doubtless struggled at first, having at least the two little boys to look after. John’s only sister had died by 1807 and his two brothers were yet to wed so there may have been few women in John’s life that could have helped him out, but things would change for the better by 1818.

Rate book entry showing John's payment of 4/- rate (and £12 annual rent) for Kirkhams Buildings in 1822

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John Ridout gets me hooked

Back to my x3 great grandfather, John RIDOUT, the chap that got me hooked on this whole family history thing. In the early days of my ‘studies’, knowing my great grandfather’s name and birth year (1863), I was able to whizz back through the UK census records quickly and so it was in 1851 that I came ‘face to face’ with this chap John RIDOUT – he was a Dorset man! I’d always assumed that my mother’s side of the family was pure Somerset, but no. On a whim, I googled ‘Ridout’ and ‘Sherborne’ and came up with so many ‘hits’ from America and Canada – heavens – these people were pioneers, bankers and politicians! The Shiburnian Ridout dynasty is very well documented and there’s even a whole collection of papers at the Society of Genealogists. But my x3 grandfather was just a cabinet-maker; his father’s marriage in the parish register revealed that neither he nor John’s mother could even sign their name. Surely my little twig couldn’t be connected to this mighty tree? No, probably not. I put my foolish fantasy aside and spent the next few years just getting on with what I knew of my more recent ancestors in Bath.

A couple of years ago, a fellow family historian called Bill RIDOUT invited me to join him, and his American friend Orlando, for a day touring round Dorset villages. I had heard of Orlando RIDOUT IV – in September 2004 he had made a public apology to Alex Haley, author of ‘Roots: The Saga of an American Family’. Haley had claimed descendency from a young warrior called Kunta Kinte, who’d been captured in 1767 from Julfureh (a village in the Gambia) and, along with many others, sold into slavery. The cargo of slaves had travelled on the Lord Ligonier via England to Annapolis, Maryland. So why had Orlando apologised to Haley? Because the slave owner and auctioneer who had sold Kunta Kinte was John RIDOUT, Orlando’s direct ancestor.

Orlando RIDOUT IV was a very pleasant, elderly gentleman – the three of us happily toured Dorset for the day, shared lunch and genealogical chatter. Before we parted company, Orlando gave me a yDNA kit and asked me if I could find a male family member to send off a sample of saliva. He wanted to see how inter-related the Dorset Ridouts were. I did as he asked and, a few weeks later, the results came back. Much to the surprise of all parties, my cousin’s DNA matched to only one other man – Orlando himself! In fact, of all the many DNA kits that Orlando had handed out on his travels my family was the only match he had. So now, I know that I can count myself as one of that huge Sherborne Ridout dynasty after all – now, if only I could find out where our tree fits into theirs!

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