JohnMouatt

John was born in London and although we cannot be certain exactly were he grew up he seems to have spent most of his adult life within a stones throw what is now known as Royal Mint Street but back in his time was called Rosemary Lane.

What is certain is that he was born into a world that was in turmoil. The French Revolution was still fresh in the minds of the ruling classes in 1797 when he took his first breath and throughout his life social unrest pot marked the history of Britain. The Peterloo Massacre, the transportation of the Tolpuddle Martyers and the banning of trade unions all highlighted, during his life, the nerviousness of the wealthy. But his life also encompassed many great moments in the nation. As a nine year old he would have heard how Nelson would defeat the French at Trafalgar and who knows may well have been one of the thousands of people who watched the funeral procession to St Paul's Catherdral. A few years later another national hero would defeat Napolean again at the battle of Waterloo. He also saw great social change with the introduction of the Poor Law, the abolision of the Slave Trade and Catholic emancipation. He also saw off three kings and saw the young Victoria take the throne.

He married his first wife, Ann Newnham, in 1816 at St Boltolph Without, Aldgate and from this marriage they had two children although only one of them, Mary Ann, survived into adulthood. He is recorded as living at Worleys Court from the time of the marriage up until Anns death in 1824.

The exact location of Worleys Court is unclear it may have been off Royal Mint Street, The Minories or Redgate Court. It could also have between Red Lion Court and Crown and Sheaf Place, Royal Mint Street and south of the London and Blackwall Railway. This location is now covered by a railway yard.

In the Times published on 13 Nov 1923 a Bankrupcy hearing for John Mouatt an Ale Seller at Lower Thames Street was announced. To date only one other John Mouatt is known to be living at the time and he certainly wasn't the subject of such a hearing so one has to wonder if this was Johns first career (Lower Thames Street is very close to the area that our John lived).

On 10 Dec 1827 John married his second wife, Jane Bleach, and had 11 children by her.

A fire insurance policy held in the Guildhall shows that by 1829 John had set up a hat factory at Sparrows Corner and it is at various numbers in Sparrows Corner that he is recorded until he died in 1862.

To descibe it as a hat factory is probably a little grand as it seems that it would have been little more than a cottage industry with Jane working along side him as a hat trimmer.

Sparrows corner still exists today although is now known as Shorter Street having prevously been known as Shorters Rents and described in Booths Poverty Map of London as 'Poor but no trouble to police'.

In 1831 his daughter Jane Sarah was kidnapped and the case reached the Old Bailey the transcript reads as follows

ELIZABETH GURNETT was indicted for that she, on the 5th of September, maliciously and feloniously did lead and take away a certain female child, named Jane Sarah Mouatt, about the age of two years, with intent to deprive John Mouatt and Jane Mouatt, the parents, of the possession of the said child, against the Statute.
SECOND COUNT, stating her intent to be to steal 1 frock, value 1s.; 1 petticoat, value 1s.; 1 shift, value 6d.; 1 pair of socks, value 3d., and 1 pair of half-boots, value 1s., the goods of John Mouatt.
JOHN MOUATT. My wife's name is Jane. I live in Sparrow-corner; our daughter Jane Sarah is just turned two years old - she used to walk about before the door; I saw her about nine o'clock in the morning of the 5th of September, when I went out - I returned about halfpast five; she was then gone, and had been missing some hours - she was dressed as a poor tradesman's child; I found her in about ten minutes, at the watch-house in Leadenhall leather market - the prisoner, who was a stranger, was in custody there; the child was clothed as she was in the morning - the prisoner said to me, "You are a cork-cutter, are you not?" - I said I should have nothing to say to her; I left her there, and took my child home - it had received no injury; she had once before been found at the top of the Minories - she had on a frock, petticoat, shift, stockings, and half-boots.
THOMAS BROWN. I sweep a crossing by the East India House. On the 5th of September, about three o'clock in the afternoon, I saw the prisoner with a child about two years old; it was crying - it struck me, from its appearance, that it did not belong to her; I said,"My good woman, where are you going with that child?"- she said, "What is that to you? mind your own business;" I said I considered it my business, as I was confident it did not belong to her - she said it did; the child could not talk to be understood - I said I was fully confident, from its respectable appearance, that it did not; I took it up in my arms - she said if I offered to take her child away she would be d-d if she would not split my nose; I then applied to Drinkwater, and gave her in charge - she was taken to the watch-house with the child- I afterwards saw the father returning home with it, and told him what had happened; the child was bathed in tears when I saw it.
WILLIAM DRINKWATER. I am one of the City Police. Brown came to me at the corner of Bishopsgate-street, and I went and found the prisoner sitting on the step of a door, with the child sitting by her side; I asked whose child it was - she said it was her own; I told her to get up, and said I should not let her go, as I was not satisfied about it - she then said it was not her's, but a neighbour's; I asked her the name of the parents, at the watch-house -she said the child's name was Billy Atkinson, that the father was in trouble, and the mother had been put to bed eight or nine hours ago - that the parents lived in a court opposite Bishop's gin-shop, Rosemary-lane; I thought from its appearance that it did not belong to her.
THOMAS SINDRY. I am beadle of the parish. I heard the prisoner give the account of the child as Drinkwater has stated; I went to a court opposite a gin-shop, in Rosemary-lane, but could find nobody named Atkinson - the prisoner did not say where she herself lived; I made inquiry, and found out the prosecutor.
Prisoner's Defence. I was going to the Virginia coffee-house, and saw the child at the top of the Minories, crying; I took hold of her by the hand, and was taking it, not with intent to steal it, for I could not keep myself; I meant to take it with me as far as the coffee-house, and come back again, but was detected by Drinkwater, who took me to the watch-house, and, being a little intoxicated, I gave him a little abusive language.
THOMAS BROWN. When I saw her she appeared rather in liquor, but not insensible, far from it.
JANE MOUATT. I am the prosecutor's wife. I saw my child safe about one o'clock, sitting on the step of a neighbour's door, about three doors off; she was very well known by the neighbour's - if inquiry had been made, there would be no difficulty in knowing who she was.
WILLIAM DRINKWATER. She was certainly a little in liquor, but knew what she was about.
GUILTY. Aged 30. - Transported for Seven Years.
You'll note that John is described as the prosecutor and this was indeed the case back then that if you wanted justice then the onus was on the victim to prosecute not the state as it is today.
Elizabeth Gurnetts motives for the abduction are prehaps made clearer when you look at William Hogarths 1751 cartoon Gin Street. The drunken woman in the foreground is dropping a baby, this is symbolic of it's murder. Killed because the woman will pawned his clothes in the pawn shop so that she can buy Gin from the distillery opposite. Hence why Elizabeth was charged with the theft of the clothes as well as of the child. Had Jane's kidnapped not been foiled this may well have been her fate too.

Elizabeth's behaviour was symptomatic of the other social ill that dominated John's lifetime; that of terrible and grinding poverty. The average life expectancy was only 29 so John was 'lucky' to have out lived only four of his thirteen children. Many did not fare so well.

Despite the technoligical and social advances that occurred during his lifetime, John still did not have the right to vote by the time that he went to the grave.