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My Biggest Influence Writing Competition Spring 2013

The Other C. Marsh
Clare Marsh

I didn't recognise the biggest influence in my life until my auspicious 50th birthday. Yet he'd always been there, lurking in the shadows and in my genes, waiting to be summoned. During a birthday catch-up email my sister, Mary, listed the names of Charles Marsh and his children from our family Bible. "You said you need a fresh challenge," she wrote, "I don't know where this lot fit in". We'd never looked at my father's family history before. We assumed the family were servants in British India travelling back to England because Hippisley was born in Madras and Isabella in Le Havre.

Days later I dashed into Croydon Library between work appointments. The microfilm whizzed by as I searched for the 1849 marriage entry at Croydon Parish Church of my great, great-grandfather, John Marsh. I finally located it and immediately the bridegroom's father, Charles Marsh 'Gentleman', stepped out and introduced himself with a flourish. Nothing has been the same since.

We'd never expected to have a 'gentleman' in the family. Inspired, Mary successfuly searched the Dictionary of National Biography. Born in Norwich in 1774 to a family of wealthy cloth merchants Charles studied at Cambridge, became a barrister at Lincoln's Inn then practised law in Madras. He returned to England becoming an MP in 1812. Charles was a political radical and a prolific writer. He died in 1835 after 'great financial difficulties'.

And something dropped into place for me. Suddenly I really knew who I was. As an adoption social worker I often thought about identity, including my own. My radical beliefs and rebellious nature were completely at odds with my Conservative, Catholic parents. Originally I wanted to become a lawyer, despite there never having been one in the family. During General Studies in Sixth Form I discovered a flair for passionate political argument. One particular debate, where I spoke in favour of Communism (I've mellowed since then), led my teacher to suggest I should read Politics, Philosophy and Economics at Cambridge. I started studying for the entrance exam, but I was too radical even for that and considered Cambridge 'elitist'. Perhaps equally significant was my lack of confidence, inculcated by my parents' self-effacing cautious attitude. So I went instead to a 'red-brick' university to become a social worker. Even then I worried I'd be 'papering over the cracks' of society, thereby bolstering a rotten system. Fortunately, basic compassion took over and I just wanted to help the vulnerable. At 50 it was salutary to discover my arrogant assumption that I was the first-ever member of my family to go to university was completely wrong. But arrogance, it seems, was a family trait.

The journey back into Charles' life introduced us to his family of merchants in Norwich during the Enlightenment. Through the letters and diaries we've traced they've become real people whose voices we can now hear. They were politically active in humanitarian causes with a strong sense of public service. Through them we traced our origins back further still to the Kett family who led a notable Norfolk rebellion in Tudor times. Three of them were executed for their political and religious beliefs.

I've pursued the ghost of Charles through Georgian London from Lincoln's Inn to his lodgings in Pump Court, Middle Temple, then to St John's College, Cambridge. In the hushed Manuscripts Room of The British Library I've read two of his letters begging for money. The first, to the Royal Literary Fund, made me cry. The second, written in Le Havre to Sir Robert Peel, was so obsequious I blushed with familial shame. The language reminded me of Jane Austen's dreadful character, Mr Collins.

Now I've come to know this fascinating and complex man better. He could be pompous, overbearing and arrogant. As a social worker I was horrified to later find Charles had abandoned his baby daughter, Isabella, in France. Some thought him 'an arch rogue', allegedly 'tricking' his way into Parliament as Member for Retford. He also helped William Henry Ireland in the notorious forgery of 'Vortigern', a supposedly lost Shakespeare play, culminating in a complete debacle at Drury Lane Theatre.

Charles was a terrific orator in Parliament, a passionate believer in justice and freedom. He wanted to abolish slavery. In 1795 he wrote as editor of a radical newspaper, 'whilst it is not in our power to do everything it is in our power to do something'. He perfectly summed up my lifelong personal and professional philosophy.

Clare Marsh, Horsmonden, Kent, UK © 2013