3. My Source

The sources, from which I have gleaned the history of my grandfather, as I said earlier, are almost exclusively through the gems of memories his wife ‘V’ kept so safe over the years. She was a bit of a hoarder but I am very pleased she was.

The collection includes postcards dating back to the early 1900’s, F.A.I.’s Seaman’s Discharge book from 1910, a raft of menus from hotels around the UK in the 20’s – 50’s and some scraps of letters. The biggest gem, however, is a battered A4 lined book, which is entitled

'F.A.I. RMS Carpathia Rescue Ship 1912'.

This contains his thoughts through poetry. Most are dated 1912 but there are a few later entries too.

It has been said to me, ‘they are probably not his work’, this I would dispute. I have transcribed most of them from his written hand and searched the Internet and other sources for the text and can find only a few that belong to someone else.

There is, however, pasted in the back cover a beautiful poem, ‘If Thou Couldst Know’ written by a Robert Murray (source unknown), which is a dedication to his mother Caroline Berenger. Her death obviously caused him extreme grief, as it must have done with all his siblings. His sisters emigrated to Canada, America and Australia. Only he and his brother Arthur remained in the UK It would seem that non-could settle anywhere. F.A.I. went to sea and even after he married in 1918 he worked away in hotels for the holiday season.

If Thou Couldst Know – Robert Murray

Mother! If thou couldst know
How often thoughts of thee
Across my spirit blow
Like soft airs o’er the sea.
In daytime’s placid noon
Or in the quiet night
Like some remembered tune
That wakens past delight;
Yet clouds the joy with throbs of pain
For things that cannot come again

The swift years fade away ;
Time backward winds his scroll
I trace through boyhood’s days
Thy impulse on my soul,
I know again the wile
That set my vision high;
I see again that smile
That gave it gravity
I hear thy voice, thy presence feel

So close my inmost senses reel

Mother, thou livest still!
I can not think thee dead
I wait with patience , till
Thy hands shall touch my head
I grieve for faith unkept
I fail on every hand;
My soul too oft hath slept
But thou will understand
And through my stumblings faint and weak
Wilt see the goal for which I seek

When life’s last toil is done;
When sunshine comes no more
O swift my feet will run
To meet thee at the door
The angels, that on guard
Surround the shining throne
Shall have my high regard
But thou my love alone.
And then, at last, my soul shall pray
The debt that grows from day to day

2. His Background

F.A.I. was born in Upton, West Ham in early 1884. He was the 3rd of 9 children (Edward Charles, Emily Caroline Ethel, F.A.I., Mabel Mary Josephine, Ivy Louise, Arthur St John, Albert Cecil Anthony, Maud St Francis and Florence St Agnes).


There is no trace of him or his family in 1891. I guess they either opted out or were out of the country at the time. In his writing he has mentioned Ireland as his 'home land', maybe they were over there at the time. Certainly his sister Ivy moved to the Emerald Isle in the early 1900s.


In the 1901 Census he was noted a lodger, living with his brother Edward in London and was working as a 'potman'.

The family had dispersed by this time as his mother Caroline had died a few years earlier following the birth of Florence. She was 41. Obviously his father (also Edward) was not modern dad and didn't care to raise his children.

The 3 younger girls were placed in St Melltus Franscian Convent, Hanwell and the 2 older girls were working and lodging in a tobacconists, Albert had died shortly after he was born. There is no sign of Arthur or their father in 1901.


According to the wedding certificate, his father was originally a Tea & Wine Merchant, working I suspect with 3 of his brothers (Augustus, Albert and Arthur.. the 3A's) who were noted through the census returns as Wine Merchants. I often wonder if after his time in France, their father didn't happen to secure a few good business deals of fine French wines for his boys.
Later his father, was noted as a school master and with each of his sibling's births came a different address ...... Upton, Walthamstowe, Hackney, Plaistow and Mile End.


F.A.I.'s paternal grandfather was a Professor of Languages and a Linguist, born in Dorset. In fact I think he was given the longest profession description ever in the 1861 Census;


'Assistant Master of the Bangor Endowed School, Professor of the French Language & University Graduate of the University of France'


Around 1834/5 he and his wife Caroline, moved to Brest in France. (what a journey that would have been!) Here is where he obviously learnt his trade. They had 6 of their children there and in 1847 they returned to the UK and a further 5 children were born. (what an even harder journey that would have been with 6 children in tow)


Although F.A.I.'s paternal Grandparents had died by the time he was born, he would certainly have grown up in an interesting family environment, having French Aunts and Uncles who were also teachers and it naturaly follows an educated enviroment too!

My dear Granny, told tales of Grandads mother, Caroline, being a French lady and a school teacher, also that her father was a wealthy merchant and she had been swindled out of the family fortunes by a wicked step mother whilst away at Boarding School in Switzerland!!
Part of the tale is true .... she was called Caroline.
She did, however, have an unusual middle name of Berenger (quite posh) and she had sister-in-laws who were indeed French and teachers, but alas she was illegtimate and I have no way of tracing her father.


So that is a brief background to F.A.I.'s start in life...............dragged around London by an educated father and hearing tales of life in France.

F.A.I.s Grandfather

1. My Guardian Angel

F.A.I. was truely 'one of us'

I have never thought of him as anything else but my Guardian Angel from being a very small child, as someone who watches over me (a claivoyant also told me I had a Guardian Angel once and she told me his name & yes it was my grandfathers name. Believe it or believe it not!)

I was due into this world on his 78th Birthday but he died 3 months before I arrived.
His wife, my dear Granny, lived many a year after he died and (god bless her) she kept a wealth of memories about him.

In this blog I do hope I will be able to accurately capture his spirit, his passion and his love of life through his writing, my research and some family tales of him