Henry Sharpe's journal was begun in 1830, the last year of the reign of George IV, when Henry was twenty-seven and living with his sister Catharine in New Ormond Street. In ‘a spirit of youthful enthusiasm and resolution, a young man takes stock of himself and considers his prospects’. He had just started his own business in the City of London, H & D Sharpe, in partnership with his youngest brother Dan, as merchants trading with Portugal from their office at Pinners’ Hall, Broad Street. We are gradually introduced to his family and their circle of friends who reappear in the journal over the years. However, his initial enthusiasm for the journal petered out after a few months and it was not until 1840 that he returned to it, by then married with a growing family, living “over the shop” in a house in Broad Street Buildings. This time he maintained the journal until 1847.

The journal covers a period of only nine years, but the text is rich with observations about national and international events, the great political and social concerns of the time, and commentary on life in London. In the ten years between Henry's first entry in 1830 and his resumption in 1840 there had been momentous developments: parliamentary reform, the abolition of slavery, the destruction by fire of both the Palace of Westminster and the Royal Exchange, and of course Queen Victoria began her reign. The Brunels and the Stephensons were at the height of their powers, providing the machinery that continued to power the Industrial Revolution; the new railways, steamboats, waterworks, gasworks, and the Thames Tunnel, provide the backdrop to Henry's world in the 1840s.

Vol. IV

5 January. Sunday. I have not been able to begin my year till today, but I ought to begin by dating it Hampstead, where we have now been living for three years and a half and every day more pleased with our move here. The four children, Ellen, Harry, Kate and Sutton, are all in excellent health, each a picture in his way; and Eliza too is stronger than she has been for a long time. I am much pleased too, at our having succeeded in getting to some extent out of the narrow Presbyterian set, which we started in life amongst; very worthy people, but very limited and bigoted in their self-lauding liberality. Our great friend of all is King, the Puseyite curate who is in and out of the house at all hours of the day; Cockerell the Royal Academician, most accomplished and amiable gentleman; Evans the surgeon, a high churchman, and well informed man; the Kilburns where the young men are very agreeable; and just now the Wings have called on Eliza, but we hardly know them yet. Altogether a very pleasant change from the former Hampstead tea parties, the very essence of dullness. My own health is most excellent, the riding outside in all weathers agrees capitally with me; and every winter I have less of the rheumatism which troubled me so the last winter in Broad Street.

Our business continues to flourish … not exactly at this moment when it is dull, but comparing one year with another, the increase is very perceptible; and I hope Dan's present visit to Portugal and Spain will do us good. Our office has increased to 6 clerks working hard and costing us four hundred a year.

Henry did not write again until 11 January, busy with his reading room report and other matters. Two hundred and fifty copies of the report were finally printed by 1 January and arranging the distribution to all the subscribers and members, and to different friends whom he knew would be interested, such as Bicheno, King and Wolff at Hamburg (who was thinking of doing something similar), took up a great deal of time. ‘On the whole I think it gives satisfaction; Evans, Highmore, Magrath (the committee men) have all come for more copies, the latter particularly is very busy puffing the Institution in Hampstead and in Town.’ He muses that all authors must, like him, be ‘very nervous and a little vain’, and imagine that everybody is thinking of their work. The only objection that reaches him is to the teaching of Latin, ‘which I stand up for stoutly, and believe to be the best thing in the place’. His main object was ‘to inform people clearly of what had been tried and succeeded, so that they might know what could be done in this way for the working classes if they have the zeal’.

Four months pass before his next entry on 27 April, at Sevenoaks Common where he has taken Eliza, who, though not exactly ill, is ‘in a weak state’, and needs a rest from the bustle of home and children. They are in the same lodging as eight years ago when Ellen was a baby, a very quiet and beautiful place. They stroll on the Common, read, and take an occasional drive in a donkey chaise visiting the pretty local villages.

7 February. Sunday morning. My Journal has been discontinued for more than two months, my mind having been for a great part of the time too much filled with dismal views of our business to like to set down my thoughts. At times it oppressed me so much that I could only sit brooding, or at best occupy myself with a novel … I have generally found sufficient interest in my Reading Room occupations and other active employments, but even then, I was afraid to collect my thoughts and sit down to write. Just at present things look a little brighter, as a little of Hinck's money has come, there is some prospect of more, and the Lisbon business seems inclined to revive from its six month's almost total stagnation. The state of things is still dismal enough, but there is no good dwelling on it. We have no reason to despair of being able to earn a moderate livelihood, and more we need not ask for. At Hampstead we continue to endeavour to make every possible retrenchment without actually altering our mode of living; whether we shall reduce the number of our servants from three to two, is a point not yet decided upon; we could then hardly keep up what are called decent appearances in our present house. At Broad St. Buildings we have made still greater changes having parted with all our full paid clerks except Fitton; Henry Eddis leaves us on Lady Day.

10 May 1840 Sunday

I mean again to try to keep a journal. I have often thought of doing it, without carrying my resolution into execution and have just now been reminded of it by reading Sir C. Romilly's [sic]. One admires the man so much that one is glad to imitate him even in indifferent things. A good time to write it will generally be the quarter of an hour at night after Eliza is gone up to bed before I follow her. Nothing very particular to record this first day. Had a very nice talk with her in the morning. Went with her to chapel; Dr. Hutton gave a sermon upon the very important duty of the heads of families not neglecting to inculcate good principle into the minds of those dependent on them, showing how they too frequently were prevented from recommending some particular virtue by the consciousness of not exercising it themselves. Hope I may improve by the lesson. In the afternoon walked out to Sam's at Highbury, & back to tea. Rained on the way home, when I walked a mile holding my umbrella over a little girl that its father was carrying on his arm. Read a lecture of Dr. Channing's in the evening. A happy day.

11 May. …As there has been break of ten years in my journal I ought to a certain extent put down an outline of the things that would have been recorded in it: I was then living at my sister's in Ormond Street, & wrote this book I remember at my office in Pinner's Hall.

‘Several circumstances render society here peculiarly easy and pleasant; in many respects the place unites the advantages and escapes the evils both of London and provincial towns. It is near enough (to London) to allow its inhabitants to partake in the society, the amusements, and the accommodations of the capital as freely as ever the dissipated could desire; whilst it affords pure air, lovely scenery, and retired and beautiful walks. Because every one here is supposed to have a London set of friends, neighbours do not think it necessary, as in the provinces, to force their acquaintance upon you; of local society you may have much, little, or none, as you please; and with a little, which is very good, you may associate on the easiest terms. Then the summer brings an influx of Londoners, who are often genteel and agreeable people, and pleasingly vary the scene. Such is Hampstead.’

The first days of January are uneventful, and Henry again rather neglects the journal, writing it up all at once on the 17th. Margaret Cooper from Caversham comes to stay with them, and he ‘glued playthings for the children’ (Sunday 2 January). Joseph Janson visits on the 6th: ‘It was beautiful to see how all the children played with him.’ It is cold enough for skating on the Heath ponds.

Eliza's parents decide to move to Hampstead and Eliza and Henry look for a suitable house for them, finding one on Squire's Mount; he measures up the rooms, and on his way home on the 8th passes by Gower Street to tell them about it.

25 January. Resolved yesterday to keep a journal, as the best check against wasting my time, by enabling me to look back on former resolutions, as to my conduct, and also by seeing what long periods are passed without any real advantage to myself to stimulate me to employ it better. I intend also that it shall contain an account of the principal daily occurrences and my feelings respecting them; my opinions of the persons I come in contact with that I may see how they vary, my views for life, prospects in business, intentions as to study, account of what I consider to be the state of my mind from time to time, everything which it may be agreeable to look back to, at some future period. Principally suggested by reading Gibbon's memoirs although I had often thought of it before.

At my office in Pinners Hall Broad St. London. Received a letter from Lewis Drusina at the Mauritius, with an account of his getting on well, a letter and remittance for his mother, he and his brother both thriving; …… it is nearly a year since he left. Read yesterday Gibbon's life of himself, a delightful book & shows what a man may do to raise a name in the world. Business appears doing well and I trust that the last year, a blank both as to profits and pleasure, this one will compensate every way. If I make for my share from £300 to £400 I shall be satisfied; I intend this year to spend about £200. Last year only spent about 150.

With the difficulties caused by Hinck settled satisfactorily, Henry's business recovered and went from strength to strength. We are able to follow the family's fortunes through Eliza's diary, which she continued for the rest of her long life.

In June 1848 their last child, a daughter, Anna, was born and the older children began their schooling at Mrs Smallwood's Academy in North End.

Henry's reading rooms flourished, moving in 1849 to new and presumably larger premises in Heath Street, which they shared with the library. He kept on the old rooms at New End for the younger boys, many of whom came to him in the evenings at home, and he continued with the Latin classes. Their annual parties for the reading room members were a regular fixture.

Their social life was as lively as ever. Eliza records an amusing encounter at one of their dinner parties in October 1849: ‘Harriett Martineau with the Gibsons, Sam and Dan, dined here, a very pleasant dinner till HM got to clairvoyance, when finding we none of us agreed with her she got rather hot. Is not it incredible how clever people can believe such nonsense.’

THE 1850s – YEARS OF LOSS

The 1850s were years of bereavement. When the duke of Wellington died in 1852, Cockerell gave them tickets for the lying in state and Eliza went to see his funeral. On the domestic front, Samuel Rogers had a terrible accident in 1850, aged eighty-seven, being knocked down by a coach in Berkeley Square and breaking his hip.

HENRY SHARPE's JOURNALS, 1830 AND 1840–7

High up on the wall in a half hidden, dusty corner of Hampstead Parish Church is a marble plaque dedicated to the memory of Henry Sharpe (1802–73), the wording of which sparks one's curiosity:

Henry Sharpe Merchant. This monument was raised by those who derived benefit in their youth from his efforts for their instruction and who, though scattered through the world, unite to perpetuate the memory of a life devoted to the good of others.

‘Mr. Sharpe was a man whose memory ought to be treasured in Hampstead. … His work in the parish is very inadequately recorded by the Mural tablet in the parish church. To me it has long been a matter for wonder and regret that a no more fitting record of such a valuable life has yet been given to the public.’

Thus wrote George Potter, one of Hampstead's local amateur historians, in 1907. Perhaps this remarkable journal, only recently rediscovered, will, after nearly two centuries, provide that record. In 1985, Malcolm Holmes, Camden's archivist, was offered a collection of papers in connection with the Sharpe family, by a Mr Morel, living at Moreton-in-Marsh. Malcolm drove up to the Cotswolds and collected several large boxes. Camden lacked sufficient resources to catalogue the collection, and it sat on a shelf in the recesses of Camden Archive Library, unexamined for another three decades.

January. A new year begun, and to all appearances as happy a one as I have ever had. Eliza, all the children and myself very well; all happy together, and everything apparently thriving. With Eliza I have never been more happy than at the present moment.

On the 2nd we had a little dinner party; my Aunt, Mrs Finch and Dr. Skey, Mr and Mrs Kinder, and my Sister; two or three more in the evening. It went off very well. … I had news yesterday that Hinck's eldest son had died; when I saw him last year he was a sweet boy of 5 years old, but very delicate. I have not had a letter from him but wrote to him yesterday.

5 January. … I finished Bruno Bauer's Kritik of the Gospels. It is a very clever book and has interested me very much. His theory is that Mark was written first then Luke, then Matthew, and then John, which he proves by showing how Mark's is a consecutive, consistent narrative, which is spoiled by each of the others as [they] introduce more matter. He considers it to be quite doubtful whether such a person as Jesus ever existed, and that at any rate the biography as given by the Evangelists is a fiction, and that they, when they wrote, knew they were inventing or composing … How the religion arose he considers it impossible to discover otherwise than by referring it to the state of the world at the time after heathenism had ceased to suffice and the Jewish nationality was destroyed by the Romans.

7 January. Omitted writing for ten days … I find my journal has dwindled down to a very meagre outline lately. … This year begins well in every respect; all of us in good health and happy; business flourishing; nothing to annoy us. My journey to Lisbon is more talked of and perhaps to take place in February; though I have not much heart for it. My Sister has asked Eliza to go to Hampstead during my absence, but it seems hardly practicable with all the children. Very cold.

9 January. … my Sister dined with us … she seems to have persuaded Eliza that she can go to Hampstead with the children while I am out. I have been fretting myself about the extent of our engagements with Hinck, who takes a great deal of accommodation in return for the profit we get from him; we must endeavour to reduce it if possible. William sent us a turkey which like some story I have read troubled us with thinking who we should ask to eat it; at last we have settled to have it comfortably to our own dinner without considering ourselves bound to give a party which we should not otherwise have done. … The coldest day.

His journal is more and more neglected with frequent gaps and perfunctory entries: ‘sometimes I am too lazy to fetch it up to write, sometimes I think I have nothing to set down; if I am out of sorts about anything I do not like to write; and it seems quite useless to force oneself to it’ (22 January).

1 January. How differently has the old year ended and the new one begun to what I expected. On the 30 Dec. I wrote to Hinck that everything in the world was going as I wished, and the very next day was one of the most melancholy I ever passed. Sutton came up again on Thursday from Brighton, Dan saw him on Friday and thought him much the same; on Saturday morning I went to his chambers determined to make him call in other advice, but after waiting an hour and a half went away without seeing him, as he was out. At 2 oclock his friend John Romilly sent a messenger to us in the City to say he was much worse and we must come up immediately. I went and found him attacked by paralysis and speechless. His apothecary had sent for Dr Bright, and as he could not come till 6 asked me to stay with him, which I did. He was downstairs in his library, sometimes sitting in one chair sometimes in another, walking up and down the room, taking down a book and putting it up again, cutting with his knife and so on to kill time. I took a book to read that I might not fuss him by appearing to watch him; I spoke occasionally and he tried to answer but could not articulate a word intelligibly. It was a most wearying time. … His face was very slightly drawn and fixed in one expression without the power of change or smiling. Bright treated him as Welbank had done before, cupped him and gave him a powerful medicine and I came away at 7.

The Sharpes had been in the trade of needle-making in Blackfriars for several generations. Henry's father Sutton Sharpe, born in 1756, ‘though brought up to trade and always engaged in business, was particularly fond of the fine arts’. He was a man of intellectual curiosity and wide reading who had from childhood been fond of drawing, and in his leisure time from business attended classes at the Royal Academy, a privilege which was then open to all. There he gained the friendship of John Flaxman, John Opie, Thomas Stothard and many other highly regarded artists. He also ‘took a lively interest in public affairs, his political interests being on the progressive side at a time when the expression of such opinions risked the restraint of personal liberty’.

In 1779, he married Catharine Purchas, by whom he had one daughter, also called Catharine, born in 1782; but her mother died when she was only nine. By that time Sutton was a man of ample means and not long afterwards gave up the needle business, which economic conditions in the City made increasingly difficult to carry on. He had lent his brother Joseph, an extravagant young man, a considerable sum of money to start a brewery, and felt it necessary to join him in this business with the idea of restraining his brother's expensive habits. He also went to live with him at his house in King Street, Golden Square, where his daughter Catharine could be cared for by his brother's wife. She became deeply attached to her uncle and his children, her cousins.