Frederick Ayrton

Supreme Court,
Bombay,
India From 'The Chaplin and Skinner Families' page 22:

>> Frederick Ayrton, above referred to, the second son of Thomas Ayrton, became like his father a solicitor. He was admitted in 1802, and practised at 1 Field Court, Grays Inn, until 1809, when he removed to 15 Grays Inn Square, where he remained until 1817, with the exception of the years 1812 and 1813, when he was at 66 Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields.

On the 1st June 1811, he was married to Juliana Caroline Rebecca Adriana, daughter of Colonel Edward Nugent, at the parish church of St. Luke's, Chelsea, by the Rev. R. F. Bree, whom I believe to have been the second son of Dr. Robert Bree, and therefore a first cousin of Colonel Nugent.

In January, 1818, soon after the birth of his youngest son, John Hyde Ayrton, Mr. Frederick Ayrton went out to India, and the story of his family life and of his death in India in the year 1823 are best told by his daughter, Matilda Adriana Chaplin, in her 'Memoir' in the following words:-

'My father was a London lawyer of small means, with a large mind and original ideas ... the reason we lived at Richmond was that he and some friends were experimenting with merino sheep, and he, thinking that country air was good for children, managed this business near that park. Well, I suppose it did not answer. I do not remember our house there. My brother Edward was born there in 1815; and also Acton in 1816. Then they moved to Kew. I was born at Chelsea, 1813, where rny parents were then living. After their marriage on very slender means, they lived at, or close to, my father's chambers, and there my brother Frederick was born in 1811. My first "house" memory is at Kew; at the church there Acton was christened, and John was born there in 1818.

My father used to come home on Saturdays and stay till Mondays; his presence was to me a great pleasure, and I prevailed upon him to let me see him have his dinner; I don't think I ever had any of it, as he was extremely careful about our diet; and our health in general was governed by him - my mother thought he knew more about everything than any one else, and obeyed him in all nursery details in perfect faith. We went out in all weathers, well protected; our feet kept dry with over shoes of leather; there were no India rubber ones in those days, coats down to our heels, ears to the boy's caps, and a veil for me. My general impression of my mother at this time is a tall lady, dressed in white, working at childrens' clothes and telling us stories, often jumping up excitedly about some mischief a child was doing, or some noise of breakage. Just now I was told one Saturday a lady wanted to see me; my hair was duly brushed, I went down stairs, and there sitting on the chimney piece was a jointed doll, the first my mother or I had ever seen. It had been smartly dressed by my grandmother Nugent in London, and my father had brought it as a novelty for me.

My father was always spoken of to us as a perfect man, who knew everything, and could do anything, even carpentering, upholstering, and shoemaking, which we thought much cleverer than writing an essay or review, which he did in hours that were not filled more profitably. The children came faster than the fees, so to secure a good education for them he accepted an opening for practice in the Supreme Court, Bombay. My mother lived with the greatest economy that he might the sooner have made enough money to return. We were quite aware of all this. If we wanted to have things or to incur any expense, we used to he told papa would never come back if we spent so much. She only kept up the intimacy of a very few old friends, as the family cares absorbed her time. Now and then at her father's request, she would go with her mother to make a grand visit, with her footman carrying a long gilt-headed stick behind them.

'I was put to bed and was ill some time with fever, my mother watching me day and night. At this time we were daily expecting my father's return from India, and one day the servant brought up a rather large letter. "The banker" said my mother; she opened it, began to read, gave a sort of shriek, and left the room. I was in bed too weak to move. I lay wondering what it was. I had heard of people losing all their money, and thought the banker had written to say we had lost all ours, like the West Indians we knew. I was not much distressed, and began planning how we should live, which amused me. Then I heard grandpapa's (Col. Edward Nugent's) step, and directly felt satisfied that he would make mamma happy. Then the servant who had gone to fetch him came to me. When I asked her after mamma, she said, "She can't come in because she is crying so! Your pa is dead!" I could hardly believe her, for I had daily been talking about what we should do when he came home, and wondering whether I should remember all I had learned at school if he questioned me. The doctor came in to see me, and ordered a mixture for mamma, which I always think of now when I smell ether.

Her friend-at-need, my godmother Miss Smee, came and sat up all night, and mamma without undressing, at last, I suppose, fell asleep on the bed by my side. The next day the boys came from school'. <<


Letter from Bombay (one of the letters kept by E I Chaplin nee Skinner, passed down to Alan Ray-Jones:

Bombay 2 December 1824

Dear Madam,

It is my painful duty to communicate to you the death of Mr Ayrton on the 24 November last. He has not left any Will in this country, but I believe a Will is with Col Nugent. This I collected from occasional Conversation with him. The Registrar of the Supreme Court here will administer his Estate - he has left in this country about 800£ (?) after the arrangement of his affairs, it will certainly produce 750£ (?); upon which latter sum you may rely with confidence - it may be more but not less. It will give me pleasure to hear that you are handsomely provided by the Will that I have alluded to - if no such Will exists, you will then be entitled by Law to one third, and your children to the other two thirds. I trust no inconvenience will be sustained by you for want of funds in the mean time. I will consult with the Registrar and recommend him to remit to you the same allowance as Mr Ayrton himself remitted to you annually viz 500£. I shall hereafter send you further particulars, and shall feel happy at any communication from you.

I am Dear Madam
Your faithful Servant
J B. Graham.
To Mrs Ayrton


END Frederick Ayrton Jnr, born 1812, son of Frederick Ayrton and Juliana Nugent.

There were three Frederick Ayrtons in a row:

1. Frederick, son of Thomas Ayrton, solicitor, born in 1780, who became a lawyer, married Juliana Nugent, had several children including Matilda Adriana Ayrton and her brothers, and died in India while the children were young. Frederick and Juliana were my great (x3) grandparents.

2. Their eldest son Frederick, born in 1812 in Chelsea, became an engineer and married Margaret Hicks in 1833. He had an interesting life as a soldier, engineer and lawyer, much of it spent abroad in India, Aden and Egypt – see Family Historian and the Chaplin and Skinner book. He died in 1873, in either Margate or London. These letters are to do with him.

3. His son Frederick, born in 1836, about whom I know nothing except that he married a French woman.

Alan Ray-Jones
1824 - Death of Frederick
Monday 16 June [1873]

Dear Mrs Chaplin

I write to tell you that I was summoned to Folkestone on Thursday last by your brother Frederick who had reached that place two days before in charge of Dr Pascale from Nice. I found him very bad and recommended his being brought up to London forthwith to be placed under the care of Dr Joy of Grosvenor St recommended by Dr Drummond at Nice.

I brought him up later on Thursday evening to his own house, No 4 Arundel Gardens, where he is being attended by Drs Joy and Bantock, and kindly cared for in every way by his wife. I think him better than when he left Folkestone. Hitherto he has not wished me to tell of his arrival but on asking him this morning whether I might not communicate the intelligence to you he said “Yes, but I cannot bear talking.” You will act on this information as you decide best.

Yours faithfully,

G P Badger

PS: Mr Frederick Ayrton wishes me to add that he was married by special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury.