In my last Aveyard post I wrote about the horrific death in August 1858 of toddler George Aveyard, the son of Daniel and Sophia Aveyard. In it I mentioned his older brother Simeon, who was sent to seek his missing young brother. At the time Gildersome-born Simeon, whose birth was registered in the March Quarter of 1853 , was only four.
In a tragic twist
of fate Simeon’s life was also cut far too short through an accident in 1873,
when only 20 years old. In another cruel parallel, his death also resulted in
an inquest before Thomas Taylor, the very same Coroner who headed George’s
inquest over 15 years earlier.
The Aveyard family
moved to Howden Clough shortly after George’s death. A coal mining family,
Simeon followed that traditional occupation. It is here his history is
At about 5.30am on 3 September 1873 he and his father Daniel set off to work at Messrs. Haigh and Greaves Howden Clough Colliery Company’s Middleton Main Pit. Long since gone, it was in the Pheasant Drive, Geldard Road and Nab Lane area of present day Birstall.
Simeon worked there
for several years, but for the past couple he’d achieved the pinnacle status of
hewer. He worked his own bank around seven yards wide, with a yard-thick seam
of coal. The roof was considered generally good, consisting of 9-12-inch-thick
clod  or black bind .
However, Simeon had
told his father there had been some slips in his place the previous day. As a
consequence, Daniel, a seasoned miner, strongly cautioned his son to keep his
wood up to the coal face to support it.
Admit it. How many
sons ignore their father’s advice? Youth is always right? It’s an age-old
dilemma. In this case the carefree invincibility of youth proved wrong, with
John Woffenden, the
pit Deputy, had known Simeon from his infancy. Doing his round of the pit he
arrived at Simeon’s bank at around 7.20am. He could hear groaning and he found
the young man doubled over with his head between his knees and two pieces of
clod on his back. These had fallen between two wooden props which had lids 
whilst he was apparently cutting down coal close to the face. Several other
props were lying around ready to be put up when required. Despite his father’s
warnings it appears Simeon had failed to ensure the area was adequately shored
After attempting to
make him more comfortable Woffenden fetched two other men. Between them they
freed Simeon, but his spinal injuries were so severe he could not straighten
himself and was unable to move his legs. He also sustained several cuts to his
head. Despite his injuries he was fully conscious.
It was around 8am when Daniel learned of the accident, meeting the men bringing his son to the pit bottom. Simeon was carried home where Robert Rayner, a Gomersal General Practitioner/Surgeon,  attended him. Rayner was familiar with mining injuries and his name crops up in connection with ones received at Howden Clough colliery.
However, Simeon failed to recover, gradually wasting away over the next few days. As his life ebbed away, he admitted to his father that the sole blame for the accident was his. He died between 2-3 o’clock in the afternoon of 15 September.
The inquest, held the following day at Gomersal’s White Horse Hotel, reached the verdict that Simeon had been accidentally crushed .
Simeon’s body was interred in St Peter’s churchyard, Birstall on 17 September 1873 .
 GRO Birth Registration of Simeon Aveyard, accessed via the GRO website, GRO Reference March Quarter 1853, Hunslet, Vol 9B, Page 219.  Indurated clay.  Indurated argillaceous shale or clay, very commonly forming the roof of a coal seam and frequently containing clay ironstone.  A short piece of timber about two feet long placed on top of a prop to support the roof.  1871 & 1881 Censuses accessed via Fimdmypast, Original at TNA, Reference: RG10/4588/27/11 and RG11/4551/31/10  West Yorkshire Coroner’s Notebook, Thomas Taylor’s Notes of Inquest of Simeon Aveyard, 16 September 1873, Accessed via Ancestry.co.uk, Original at West Yorkshire Archive Service, Reference Number: WDP5/1/4/4  Burial of Simeon Aveyard, St Peter’s Birstall Burial Register, accessed via Ancestry.co.uk, Original West Yorkshire Archive Service – Reference Number: WDP5/1/4/4
Observer, 17 September 1873
Reporter, 20 September 1873
GRESLEY, WILLIAM STUKELEY. GLOSSARY OF TERMS USED IN COAL MINING. London, New York, E & F.N. Spon 1883.
Family history at its most basic boils down to
births, marriages and deaths. Sometimes it is easy to become immune to the true
meaning of the parade of dates marking the start and end of life. There are,
after all, so many in a family tree. Occasionally, though, one event does stop
you still in your tracks. For me the death of George Aveyard is one such event.
George was the two-year-old son of Daniel and Sophia Aveyard. In the context of my Aveyard One-Name Study, Daniel’s parents were George Aveyard (1780-1854) and his second wife Hannah Asquith. The family originated in the West Ardsley area, but somewhere between March 1832 and June 1841, they moved to Gildersome Street, an area south of the centre of modern-day Gildersome.
Daniel was the second youngest of George’s 18
children, baptised on 4 August 1830 at St Mary’s, Woodkirk . Evidence
strongly suggests George and Hannah were my 4x great grandparents.
Daniel, a coal miner, married Sophia Brook at All Saints Dewsbury Parish Church on 23 August 1852 . Sophia was born on 1 June 1832 and baptised one month later at Woodkirk parish church, her parents being William and Amelia Brook .
Daniel and Sophia’s marriage resulted in 12 children . So far, I have identified 10 of them – whilst Aveyard is an uncommon name there was more than one Aveyard/Brook marriage in the relevant period. I suspect I have identified at least one of the remaining children, but more work is required (short of purchasing the relevant birth certificates).
The so far identified children are Simeon  (birth registered in 1853); George  (birth registered in 1855); Sarah Elizabeth  (birth registered in 1861); Brook  (birth registered in 1863); twins Joseph and Mary , whose diminutive name appears to have been Polly  – yes, that is a known short form of Mary, (births registered in 1865); Ada  (birth registered in 1868). She was buried on 25 April 1869 at St Peter’s Birstall under the name of Adah Aveyard and her father was named as Daniel ; Herbert  (birth registered in 1870); Richard Newman  (birth registered in 1871); and Rachel  (birth registered in 1872). She was buried on 21 July 1872 at St Peter’s Birstall with her father named as Dan[ie]l .
The events in this post took place in Gildersome
Street on 13 August 1858, with the inquest taking place before Coroner Thomas
Taylor the following day at the King’s Arms Inn, Gildersome. Whilst many
inquest records do not survive for this period, with newspapers being the main
information source, we are fortunate that the HM Coroner of Wakefield records
at West Yorkshire Archives (Wakefield) includes the notebooks of Thomas Taylor
 for the period 1852-1900. They include the notes for the inquest of George
A little over two years old, George was able to talk and had been used to walking alone for about six months. Sarah Aveyard (née Stables) the wife of one of Daniel’s older brothers, Thomas, gave an account at the inquest, testifying there were “...always plenty of children playing about”  in Gildersome Street where the families lived.
It was clear that even though a toddler, George was
amongst them. Her young nephew had been to her house on morning of his death,
leaving at around 11 o’clock heading down the road. So, his aunt clearly had no
concerns that he was out and about without his mother.
You can envisage the scene: traditionally based around weaving and cloth manufacture but now becoming a mining village, this was a close-knit community with groups of impoverished, grubby children, the streets their playground, freely popping in and out of houses, many of them occupied by relatives. A place where everyone knew everyone. In this period Gildersome Street really was an Aveyard enclave.
At around 11.45 am George arrived home. His mother, Sophia, gave him a piece of bread and content he once more wandered back outside. At around noon she noticed he was missing. This was out of character, as according to Sophia’s evidence at the inquest “I have not lost him before.” . She sent out her eldest child Simeon to seek him. At this point she believed him to be perfectly safe at his grandmother’s home about 80 yards away. This is most likely to be his paternal grandmother, Hannah Aveyard.
It was dinner time and Sophia was starting to feel anxious. Another neighbour, widow Elizabeth Buckley, overheard her asking one of her daughters if she had seen George. This would have been just gone one o’clock. Elizabeth in fact had seen George two or three times that morning.
Now events took on a dark, stuff of nightmares turn. Alice Aveyard, described as “going in [sic] 11 years” , daughter of Thomas and Sarah, and therefore cousin of little George, was the one who made the horrific discovery. I imagine it would haunt her until her dying days, a scene no adult, let alone a child, could never unsee.
According to her inquest evidence:
“…I went yesterday afternoon to George Buttery’s privy adjoining the Wakefield and Bradford Road. The door was wide open. On looking thro’ the hole in the seat I saw a bare knee in the soil and I imm[ediat]ely gave an alarm.” 
In the 1851 census, Thomas and Sarah Aveyard’s household details were adjacent to the entry for the family of George Buttery. In other words they were close neighbours.
So what was a privy? Well, I’ll start by saying a
privy was a far cry from the flushing, sanitary toilets of today. Improvements
had, in fact, commenced with the landmark 1848 Public Health Act which decreed:
“That it shall not be lawful newly to erect any House, or to rebuild any House pulled down to or below the Floor commonly called the Ground Floor, without a sufficient Watercloset or Privy and an Ashpit furnished with proper Doors and Coverings.” .
There were also provisions for the newly created
Local Boards of Health to issue notices where any houses had insufficient
“..whether built before or after the Time when the act is applied to the District in which it is situate…” 
But this is a bit of gloss which belies the true
unsanitary, conditions. In the period a privy was essentially nothing more
than a small wooden, sometimes brick, building which could be shared by several
families. The implication, however, in the inquest notes is that the
Gildersome Street houses by 1858 did not have massive communal privies shared
by scores of people. Alice’s evidence is that this one belonged to one
household, that of George Buttery. Sarah Aveyard in her evidence stated:
“The privy does not belong to Daniel Aveyard’s house.” 
Number of families aside, the very basic interior design was a wooden board with a hole cut into it. In fact, there could be more than one hole, and these not necessarily divided into separate cubicles.
Excreta (liquid and faeces) would drop through this hole and the waste would drain and collect into cesspits. These were generally porous for the liquid matter to drain away, though this did not always happen. And when it did operate correctly, the question is where did it seep to and what contamination did it cause? The (hopefully but not always) dry waste would build up and eventually be shovelled out by night soil men. And yes, it was a job carried out under the cover of darkness. The waste would then be sold on for manure.
So, the soil referred to in Alice’s evidence was
actually a euphemism for human excreta.
Even if not serving a large number of houses, the stench surrounding these privies would be unimaginable at any time of year, never mind August and the height of summer. And it was in this hell hole that a child was trapped.
Alice went to tell her mother she had seen a child’s leg in the privy. It was about quarter past one in the afternoon. Sarah returned with her daughter to the appalling scene, saw the knee and screamed. This attracted the attention of some local women, including Elizabeth Buckley.
The women removed George’s body, which was lodged head first in the soil (think about the true meaning of the word soil in this context). Elizabeth testified that when they extracted him, he was dead, his eyes were partly open, there was no froth about his nose and, she observed when she washed his body, that he had no signs of injury. She also stated the the privy seat was not broken and in good order.
In other words this appeared to rule out any foul play, which view the inquest jury duly took. Its verdict was that George had “accidentally suffocated.” It is a verdict which does not even begin to capture the hideous circumstances surrounding this young child’s death.
Back in 1858, with its alarmingly high childhood mortality rates, a child’s death was not the unexpected event it is today in 21st century England. But a child’s death in such a ghastly accident was utterly shocking. Perhaps this was the reason Daniel, Sophia and their family had left Gildersome Street by the time of the 1861 census, and had moved to Boggart Lane in the Howden Clough area of Batley, near Still House Farm, which stands today . They wanted to escape the scene of such personal family trauma?
Such was the hideous nature of George’s death, the inquest was widely reported in local newspapers, as typified by the 21 August 1858 edition of the Pontefract Advertiser  which recorded:
SHOCKING DEATH OF A LITTLE BOY – An inquest was held on Saturday, at the King’s Arms Inn, Gildersome before T. Taylor, Esq., on the body of George Aveyard, aged two years, son of Daniel Aveyard, coal miner. On Friday last, about noon, deceased went out of his father’s house, and no more was seen of him until one and two in the afternoon, when he was discovered in the soil of an adjoining privy. When extricated he was found to be quite dead….”
It is a death which over 160 years later, and amidst so many other deaths recorded in the course of my family history research, I cannot forget and one that does not cease to sicken.
As for location, the buildings of Gildersome Street have long been erased from maps. Ironically the present-day area is one which I frequently visit. It lies among the network of busy roads and the industrial estate areas, all within minutes walking distance from where West Yorkshire Archives (Leeds) now stands.
 Baptism of Daniel Aveyard, St Mary’s Woodkirk Baptism Register. Accessed viaWest Yorkshire, England, Church of England Births and Baptisms, 1813-1910 [database on-line]. Originals at West Yorkshire Archive Service; Wakefield, Yorkshire, England; Yorkshire Parish Records; New Reference Number: WDP108/1/2/1
 Baptism of Sophia Brook, St Mary’s Woodkirk Baptism Register. Accessed viaWest Yorkshire, England, Church of England Births and Baptisms, 1813-1910 [database on-line]. Originals at West Yorkshire Archive Service; Wakefield, Yorkshire, England; Yorkshire Parish Records; New Reference Number: WDP108/1/2/2
 Marriage of Daniel Aveyard and Sophia Brook, All Saints Dewsbury Parish Church. Marriage Register Accessed via Ancestry.com. West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1813-1935 [database on-line]. Originals at West Yorkshire Archive Service; Leeds, Yorkshire, England; Yorkshire Parish Records; Reference Number: WDP9/28
 1911 Census, Aveyard family entry. Although Sophia is now a widow her Particulars as to Marriage details have been completed. Accessed via Findmypast. Originals at The National Archives, Kew. Reference RG14PN27255
 Birth Registration of Simeon Aveyard, March Quarter 1853, Hunslet Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 219, Mother’s Maiden Name Brook. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Birth Registration of George Aveyard, December Quarter 1855, Hunslet Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 184, Mother’s Maiden Name Brook. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Birth Registration of Sarah Elizabeth Aveyard, June Quarter 1861, Dewsbury Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 475, Mother’s Maiden Name Brooke. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Birth Registration of Brook Aveyard, December Quarter 1863, Dewsbury Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 502, Mother’s Maiden Name Brook. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Birth Registration of Mary and Joseph Aveyard, March Quarter 1865, Dewsbury Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 550, Mother’s Maiden Name Brook. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 1891 Census, Aveyard family entry. Accessed via Findmypast. Originals at The National Archives, Kew. Reference RG12/3722/12/17
 Birth Registration of Ada Aveyard, June Quarter 1868, Dewsbury Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 575, Mother’s Maiden Name Brooke. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Burial of infant named Adah Aveyard, 29 April 1869 at St Peter’s, Birstall. Accessed via Ancestry.com. West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Deaths and Burials, 1813-1985 [database on-line]. Originals at West Yorkshire Archive Service; Wakefield, Yorkshire, England; New Reference Number: WDP5/1/4/3
 Birth Registration of Herbert Aveyard, March Quarter 1870, Dewsbury Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 578, Mother’s Maiden Name Brook. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Birth Registration of Richard Newman Aveyard, March Quarter 1871, Dewsbury Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 604, Mother’s Maiden Name Brook. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Birth Registration of Rachel Aveyard, March Quarter 1872, Dewsbury Registration District, Volume 9B, Page 603, Mother’s Maiden Name Brook. Accessed via the General Register Office Website Birth Indexes.
 Burial of infant named Rachel Aveyard, 21 July 1872 at St Peter’s, Birstall. Accessed via Ancestry.com. West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Deaths and Burials, 1813-1985 [database on-line]. Originals at West Yorkshire Archive Service; Wakefield, Yorkshire, England; New Reference Number: WDP5/1/4/4
 Taylor was the coroner for the Honour of Pontefract from 1852-1900, deputy county coroner 1855, 1861-1864, and county coroner 1864-1900.
 Coroner’s notes at the inquest into the death of George Aveyard, 14 August 1858 Originals at West Yorkshire Archives, Thomas Taylor, West Yorkshire Coroner’s Notebooks June to November 1858, Reference C493/K/2/1/9
It might not be everyone’s idea of a pleasant way to while away the hours, but I’ve had tremendous fun analysing the various Aveyard families in the 1851 census of England and Wales. I will eventually get onto constructing family trees as I link more building blocks of information. But for now I concentrated on focusing on the Aveyards as a group looking at their ages, birth and address locations, occupations and even Christian names.
I’ve loved playing with various chart formats to depict the information. Perhaps I really do need to get out more! However I hope those with Aveyard ancestry connections will enjoy seeing the bigger picture and working out where their particular branch fits. And at the outset I should caution this is a work in progress – I do envisage revisions to the data as I grow more familiar with the Aveyards!
I undertook 1851 census surname searches using both Ancestry and Findmypast, genealogical dataset provides, to try to minimise any omissions through transcription errors. This is a big risk if relying on one genealogical data provider. These searches included both the Aveyard surname and an infrequently used alternative spelling of Haveyard. For ease I will use Aveyard generally, unless I’m specifically referring to an individual who uses the Haveyard spelling.
checked the image, again to minimise any transcription errors. If the image
proved problematical with Findmypast I checked the Ancestry image and vice
through each entry personally in this way also gave me a far better ‘feel‘
for the Aveyard families. Yes, it’s time consuming. But I think it’s worth it.
there were 211 occurrences of the Aveyard surname, split between 105 males and
105 females. One entry, for a Gorton (Lancashire) Aveyard, was so badly
damaged it was impossible to determine age, relationship or gender. Therefore
any analysis of these specific factors (unless indicated) is based on an
overall Aveyard total of 210.
youngest Aveyard, Ellen (of Gildersome), was newborn. The eldest one, Benjamin
(born in Gorton and living in Mancester), was 75. There were only six
Aveyards in their 70’s, so less than three per cent. The average age, based on
the 210 entries with legible ages, was 24.72.
The marital status of the Aveyards is depicted in Chart 1, below.
Aveyards were heads of the household. The precise split of relationship to the
head of household of the 211 Aveyards is given in Chart 2, below.
looked at Christian names. William (17 occurrences), George (16) and Thomas/Tom
(11) were the top three male names. For females bearing the Aveyard name,
including those by virtue of marriage, Mary (16) and Sarah (13) were those in
double digits. The full breakdown of male names is in Chart 3, and females in
looked at birth and address counties and, within these counties, the precise
address and birth location. For part of this piece of analysis I excluded
married and widowed females, on the basis these were highly unlikely to be born
as an Aveyard. The results were startling. There is an overwhelming northern
England geographical concentration of Aveyards, with Yorkshire being the main
shows the birth county of all Aveyard surname bearers – it shows 83.41 per cent
of all Aveyards in the 1851 census were Yorkshire-born; 10.90 per cent were
born in Lancashire; and 3.31 were Cheshire-born. Five others were born in
either Durham, Lincolnshire or Middlesex.
6 (below) excludes married and widowed females (and the unknown gender entry).
This leaves 169 male or unmarried female Aveyards. Removing this cohort further
narrows down the counties to only four. The Yorkshire concentration increases,
with 86.39 per cent born in this county. Of the others 10.05 per cent are Lancashire-born,
2.36 Cheshire and 1.18 per cent Middlesex
looking at the address counties of the Aveyards we are down to the triumvirate
of Yorkshire, Lancashire and Cheshire as depicted in Charts 7 and 8.
couple of charts relating to birth and address locations of Aveyards once more
excludes married and widowed females and the one Aveyard of unknown gender, so
again is based on 169 people.
focusing on birthplace shows 15.38 per cent are born in Gildersome and 18.34
per cent in West Ardsley, both in Yorkshire. West Ardsley also covers Lee Fair
and Woodchurch, so including the two who give these birthplace locations
increases the West Ardsley percentage to 19.52. One gives a birthplace of
Ardsley. As this could equally be East Ardsley I have not included it in the
West Ardsley calculations.
Many of the other Yorkshire birthplaces are within close proximity to West Ardsley. The closest 22 are depicted in the map below, with West Ardsley at (1).
crow flies looking at points north, south, east and west to West Ardsley:
Kirkstall is 11.42 miles; Crofton is 11.59 miles; Liversedge is 8.81; and to
Rothwell is 7.72 miles.
Lancashire Gorton is the most popular birthplace, with 11 Aveyards (6.5 per
cent) giving this as their birth location. It is the fourth most popular behind
Yorkshire’s West Ardsley, Gildersome and Wakefield.
depicts addresses. 49 (28.99 per cent) have a Gildersome address. In comparison
only five live in West Ardsley, showing a migration away from what was their
largest birth location.
corresponding map showing the closet locations to top address spot Gildersome
(1) are depicted on the map below.
piece of analysis depicted in the bar charts at Charts 11 to 13 looks at
occupations of males and females aged eight and upwards, and all children up to
and including 16 years of age.
stand-out occupation of the male Aveyards is coal miner with 21 giving this as
an occupation. A further 11 had coal-related occupations, including one engine
tenter working in a colliery. In other words 38.55 per cent of all male
Aveyards age eight and upwards were employed in the coal industry. All of these
boys and men lived in Yorkshire, 19 of them in Gildersome. There were only 24
males age eight and upwards in a Gildersome. Over in Lancashire the nine
Aveyards in this age bracket had no real common occupational grouping: two
errand boys, a hatter, a retired hatter plus a leather cutter, french polisher,
herald knitter, mechanic and annuitant. In Cheshire there was a hat maker and
mechanic. All three of those with a hat making link were Gorton-born.
at females in the age eight and above category 42, equivalent to 51.85 per
cent, had no occupation listed. Of the others many had domestic and service
work and over 18.5 per cent had a cloth manufacturing role.
chart (Chart 13) looks at eight to 16-year-olds. Of the 86 in this age group:
35 had no details given:
21 were at school;
a further three were described as splitting their time between mill and school. These were the only eight and nine-year-olds described as having a job;
in addition to these three split-timers, a further eight were in the cloth industry; and
seven (including two ten-year-olds0 worked in the coal mining industry.
do my direct-line Aveyards fit in? In 1851 my 4x Great Grandparents George and
Hannah Aveyard were alive as were my 3x Great Grandparents Peter and Caroline
Aveyard (married in 1846). Caroline was born in Gildersome, the others in West
Ardsley. George (71) was a labourer and Peter (25) a coal miner. I do know from
other records George had been a coal miner When younger. Neither wife had a
listed occupation. George and Hannah (63) lived in Gildersome and Peter and
Caroline in Adwalton. Note as married women neither Hannah (63) or Caroline
(24) appear in the birthplace or settlement place tables. Based on this I’d say
they were typical of the Aveyards as a whole.
I did wonder about publishing this post as I may subsequently identify some Aveyards overlooked in my first sweep of the 1851 census. For instance I have a feeling at least one Yorkshire branch of the family may have used the name Halfyard in the census. This may add around 20+ more names. I reckon there are five in Lancashire and around seven in Cheshire. All this needs verifying. Also the ages given may subsequently prove incorrect when I eventually start cross-matching with civil registration and parish register information. In the end I decided to go for it. I can always update this research if I do discover other Aveyards. And as for the age details, I will for the purposes of census analysis stick with what they gave. So, as I said earlier, view this as a work in progress and watch this space for further updates.
For me family history is more than a series of names and dates. I want to try paint a picture of my ancestors lives, their wider family network, the times in which they lived and the communities which shaped them. For many, records are the only way to build up this picture. For others their lives are still within living memory, either first hand or indirectly through others.
Edith Aveyard is my maternal great grandmother and the reason for my one-name study choice. I never met her, but through many hours talking to mum I do feel I have some sense of her character which goes beyond the records.
Born in East Ardsley in the West Riding of Yorkshire on 20 March 1879 she was one of the nine children of Wesleyan Methodist Abraham Aveyard and his wife Sarah Jane (née Broadhead). Her siblings included Peter (1873), Thomas Henry (1875), Bertha (1887), Amos Hartley (born 1881, died 1884), Paulina/Pauline (circa 1884), Eliza (1885), Caroline (1887) and John (1889). Abraham, a coal miner, spent several short spells between 1894 and 1908 in Wakefield Prison for debt.
Family census and various birth, baptism, death and burial records show that by March 1884 the family moved from East Ardsley to Morley. Sometime between May 1887 and March 1889 they shifted to Drighlington but by the mid-1890s they were back in Morley. All were coal-mining areas, so provided employment opportunities for Abraham and his eldest sons.
Edith married coal miner Jonathan Rhodes at Woodkirk Parish Church on 14 August 1897. They were both 18 years old. Edith did not sign her name in the register. Mum recalls that she could never write – yet she could read a horse-racing card well enough in the newspapers to enable her to put on a bet!
It was a marriage which did not meet with the approval of Jonathan’s parents, William Burnley Rhodes and Elizabeth. Mum has the impression they thought they were a ‘cut above’ Edith’s Aveyard family. Perhaps Edith’s father’s periods in jail were central to this belief. However, the marriage was one of necessity as Edith gave birth to a daughter, Alice, less than four months after the wedding.
The couple settled into married life and their home at Healey Croft Terrace, East Ardsley, near-neighbours of Edith’s brother Thomas Henry Aveyard. It was here the couple’s other children were born: Ethel (1899), Oliver (circa 1902), William Henry Bastow (circa 1903) and Pauline (1905).
But life was not without its difficulties. Jonathan was not a well man. A diabetic in the pre-insulin era, he was carrying out the physically demanding job of a coal hewer. And then tragedy hit. First youngest son William died at the Healey Croft Terrace home, on 4 June 1907, struck down by meningitis when only four-years-old. He was buried in the churchyard at East Ardsley St Michael’s two day’s later. Then, shortly after moving to Morley, the couple’s other son 8-year-old Oliver was killed on 8 October 1910 after being knocked down by a motor car on Britannia Road. It’s an incident which I wrote about here. He was buried alongside his brother on 11 October 1910.
By 1916 the family had left Morley and were living in Hanging Heaton. Daughter Alice married Willie Boynes in the Sunday school at Hanging Heaton on 16 April 1916. The school had been given a special licence to hold marriages by the Bishop of Wakefield.
The somewhat unusual venue was because the parish church of St Paul’s Church at Hanging Heaton was gutted by fire after a lightning strike in the early hours of 17 February 1916. Initially, given this was the midst of the Great War, the crowd watching the destruction of this landmark church, speculated that the cause was ‘German incendrianism.’
The Million Act church of St Paul’s, Hanging Heaton, was built originally between 1823-1825 as part of the church building programme sanctioned in the wake of Wellington’s 1815 victory over Napoleon at Waterloo. It was on a dominant hillside position, and the flames were visible for miles around. The High Street home of the Rhodes family was a matter of a few hundred metres away.
High Street, Hanging Heaton today. The old Number 67 where the family lived no longer exists. Photo by Jane Roberts
The fire was spotted at 4.10 am by Sam Pleasants. But, with only one telephone available in the vicinity of Hanging Heaton, summoning help was not straightforward. The Dewsbury Brigade received a call at 4.23am and, according to the Rev. W.E. Cleworth, they were working with the hose on the blaze before 5am (Batley News, 19 February 1916). The Dewsbury Reporter of the same date also stated:
Great praise was bestowed upon Dewsbury Fire Brigade for the very prompt manner in which they responded to the call and the general adaptability they displayed.
The Batley News report went onto say the Batley Brigade did not receive a request to assist until 5.15 am. This delay was criticised as being detrimental to efforts to save the church. The Leeds Mercury of 18 February in its report mentions the Dewsbury Brigade was speedily on the spot, but states Batley’s arrival was delayed for some time at the toll-bar gate at Grange Road. No mention of the problems being down to contacting them.
Later published accounts state that both the Batley and Dewsbury Fire Brigades were delayed in attending the conflagration. These too do not mention the lateness in getting the call through to Batley. Rather they say precisely because of the church’s steep hillside position, the horse-drawn engine from Batley could not access via the direct route up the hill. Instead it had to go via Grange Road where the Toll Keeper, when he eventually was roused from bed, argued about the toll for fire engines. The Dewsbury Brigade were held up because they could not enter the area without the permission of the delayed Batley Brigade. And when they were both finally in position, at the same time, initially they had no water.
Whatever happened with the Fire Brigades, the main point is the flames, fanned by a strong wind, took hold and the church was beyond saving. Its rebuilding was not authorised until 1920, and it was finally rededicated on 17 November 1923.
The vulnerability of the building to lightning strikes was highlighted just prior to the rededication. Building work completed, on Saturday 7 July 1923 it was once more struck by lightning. The top of one of the pinnacles was completely shattered, and a small fire broke out. Fortunately residents witnessed the event and acted swiftly. The blaze was quickly extinguished with buckets of water. This particular storm caused death and destruction across Yorkshire.
On a broader family history note, amongst the things salvaged from the 1916 inferno were the parish registers! One of the ‘rescuers’ of these precious documents was the verger, who also lived on High Street.
Despite the destruction, sightseers who flocked to view the ruins were allowed to enter the devastated building just over a week later. The Batley News of 26 February 1916 described:
…streams of humanity that flowed to the scene of the fire-wreckage was like unto the multitudes on the days of Lee Fair, [the country’s oldest chartered fair which dates from at least the early 12th century and is held at West Ardsley] a big football match or a big festival.
It is hard to imagine Edith and her family not being amongst these streams, given their proximity to the church. It was there nearest place of worship too, Edith clearly not adhering to her father’s Wesleyanism. She married in the Established Church, and her children were baptised in it.
In 1919 middle daughter Ethel married James Delaney, a Batley Catholic of Irish descent. Serving as a Gunner in the Royal Field Artillery, and latterly as a Sapper in the Royal Engineers, he was discharged from the Army in October 1918 no longer fit for service. He died in the East Lancashire Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Home at Park Lane, Kersal on 27 January 1928. One relative seems to think Ethel, who had nursed her husband, was so low in the aftermath of her husband’s death she could see no point in living. It was Edith who prevented her carrying through with her threat. I’ve found no evidence to back this up as yet. Perhaps I never will.
Once Ethel married, the only daughter remaining at home was Pauline. They were still in Hanging Heaton, but now at 20, Kirkgate. On 6 March 1921 she was by her father’s sickbed whilst her mother, Edith, briefly nipped out. It was whilst she was away that Jonathan died. His funeral took place at East Ardsley St Michael’s where he was laid to rest with his young sons on 9 March 1921.
Kirkgate, Hanging Heaton. Number 20 is now a modern house. These are the nearest old houses. Photo by Jane Roberts
Edith re-married on 25 February 1922. He husband was 38-year-old motor driver William Henry Ellis, a bachelor. Mum knew him as uncle a Bill. St Paul’s Hanging Heaton was not yet rebuilt, so the wedding took place in the Church Hall which had replaced the Sunday School as the building licensed to conduct services.
The Rebuilt Church of St Paul’s, Hanging Heaton. Photo by Jane Roberts
By 1939 bus driver Bill and Edith had moved to Upper Camroyd Street in the centre of Dewsbury. The location suited her perfectly. A stone’s throw from the huge market, and with access to a full array of shops, it was also near the pub where she could pop across to get a pitcher of beer to take home. Subsequently Edith moved a couple of streets away from Upper Camroyd Street to one of a pair of cottages in Battye Street.
It was the same town in which married daughter Pauline now lived with husband John, so mum has plenty memories about her broad Yorkshire-speaking grandma.
A diminutive woman, mum remembers her as being ‘a bit to a tartar‘ who would stand no nonsense from her grandchildren. She recalls a couple of examples. Her grandma had a horsehair settee. Mum, as a child in her short skirt, remembers sitting on it and the fibres pricking into her legs. Despite the discomfort she would sit rigid, as no way would her grandma allow any fidgeting. On another occasion Edith came to look after her grandchildren whilst Pauline and husband John were away. The children were not allowed to open any drawers in their own house!
Yet she was always more lenient with mum’s eldest brother, Jack. And when one of mum’s sisters married, she offered to partition her bedroom down the middle with a curtain so she could live there with her new husband. The offer was declined.
Mum’s other memories include when she first started work. Her job straight from school was at Luke Howgate’s in Dewsbury. The firm still exists today. It manufactures for the funeral trade and mum worked on simple soft furnishings for coffin interiors. She would pop in from work for a Friday fish and chips lunch with her grandma and uncle Bill. Edith was thrilled with her granddaughter’s new job and would ask endless questions about it, whilst imparting her considerable knowledge of the funeral trade. She spoke from personal experience. Besides informally helping bring babies into the world, she also was called upon to lay out the dead in the neighbourhood. She even had her own personal laying out drawer ready for her own death – and her grandchildren were not allowed to open this either!
Uncle Bill died in 1956. Edith died at Staincliffe hospital on 24 October 1957 as a result of cerebral arterio sclerosis and old age. She was buried alongside her first husband, Jonathan, and sons William and Oliver in the unmarked East Ardsley grave.
Her Battye Street home as long since gone. The cottages were demolished. On the very spot where they stood is the Chapel of Rest for George Brooke’s, Funeral Directors. It somehow seems fitting.
GRO Birth, Marriage & Death certificates – various;
Yorkshire Baptisms, Marriages & Burials via Ancestry.com Church of England Parish Register Collection. Original data at West Yorkshire Archives;
Abraham Aveyard, HMP Wakefield Records, via Ancestry.com. West Yorkshire, England, Prison Records, 1801-1914 [database on-line]. Original data at West Yorkshire Prison Records. Reference C118: Wakefield Prison. West Yorkshire Archive Service, Wakefield, England;
Censuses 1881 to 1911 accessed via Ancestry.co.uk and FindMyPast;
1939 Register accessed via Ancestry.co.uk and FindMyPast;
Newspapers as indicated;
Pauline Hill’s recollections – conversations with Jane Roberts, February 2019;
Well it’s that time of year again. In my penultimate post of last year I assessed how my 2017 New Year’s Resolutions went. In my final post of the year I set out some general family history related suggestions for 2018 for those seeking ideas. So now to look forward and set my own goals for the New Year.
I’m sticking to just five ‘challenges‘ once more. They are a balance of personal, professional and wider family history objectives. And they do, in part, link to some of the suggestions I posted yesterday.
Work on my Aveyard One-Name Study (ONS): Yes, that hardy perennial which had very stunted growth in 2017. I will spend more time on it in 2018, says I through gritted teeth. It’s not that I don’t like doing the work, it’s just I never get time. And because it’s a relaxed, gentle-paced kind of hobby, it’s the one which is easier to knock on the head when other areas of life and work pick up speed. So in an effort to kick-start it, I may in part combine it in part with Resolution Number Two.
Complete my Pharos Tutors Family History Skills and Strategies (Advanced) Course: I’m now into Year Two of the eight module course. This year I have my final three modules and assignments. I also must undertake a pre-19th century Project. I’m currently finalising my research proposal, and I’m hoping to frame it in such a way to fulfil some personal family history research, or link it to my ONS. Either way the course will provide me with an excuse to do some of my own research for a change, whilst at the same time being part of my Continuing Professional Development.
Finish my Book Research: This was a ‘bolt from the blue‘ piece of work which hit me in 2017. Alongside my husband I have wandered into a publishing contract. The book is due out later in 2018 and my research is well underway. I aim to complete the bulk of the remaining research by early March. I’ve already set aside January to focus on it, in between my Pharos Medieval Genealogy module. After that, it’s just dotting ‘i’s’ and crossing ‘t’s’ for me. Luckily for me the writing part is down to the other half.
Personal Research: Some ancestors are sent to test us. One of my trials is my 4x great grandfather Abraham Marshall. He’s an hiding-in-plain view type of chap. One of those ancestors I put aside as I couldn’t find an obvious family for him. In theory he should be straightforward. I just need to put in some effort, something I’ve never found time to do. It may involve an element of family reconstitution and lateral thinking. So 2018 is the year in which I will put in that effort and marshal my Marshalls, so to speak. We’ll see how it goes.
Attend a mixture of Conferences, Lectures, Family and Local History Fairs and Talks: The demise of ‘Who Do You Think You Are? Live’ leaves a major gap in the genealogy calendar. But there is so much more out there. It is an opportunity to connect with other events, including those organised by that backbone of grassroots genealogy, the Family History Society. I’m going to commit to attending a minimum of six events over the course of 2018. I’ve already signed up for a major genealogy event, the Secret Lives conference. Organised by the Association of Genealogists and Researchers in Archives (AGRA), The Guild of One Name Studies, the Halsted Trust and the Society of Genealogists, it runs over three days in late summer. But I will also mix it up with smaller scale local events and talks. Family history can so often be a solitary interest, where you find yourself either tucked away in a local archive or at home behind the computer screen. Often, in pursuing our family history goals, we overlook the value of connecting with others who share our passion. And in doing so we overlook the value of our local Family History Societies. So I’m making 2018 my year of championing the work of local history groups and Family History Societies. Starting with the Huddersfield and District Family History Society January sale: Parish Register index booklets for £1, CDs at £5 and census CDs £5 too, plus p&p. That’s my kind of sale!
So just five New Year’s Resolutions for 2018. But I’m pretty relaxed about them as, from the experiences of this year, life can throw the unexpected at you. What you want to achieve evolves and changes as the year progresses. Some new opportunity may mean a shift in priorities. And family history is meant to be fun, not some rigid tick-box exercise.
Whatever your family history aims and hopes are for 2018, I wish you have a rewarding and interesting New Year. But above all I’m wishing you peace, health and happiness, because that’s what really counts.
It was a year which didn’t quite go as planned. It was a year full of heartache, but punctuated with moments of real joy and achievement. All of this impacted on my New Year’s Resolutions for 2017.
I had set myself five goals, but personal issues meant a major switch of focus. Mid-year both my husband and father had significant health problems resulting in lengthy hospitalisation for both. Then followed an even lengthier period of recuperation for my husband. Dad however lost his long battle with cancer. Genealogy took a back seat.
Going Forward but Looking Back: Snowflake and me – Photo by Chris Roberts
Given what happened I’m really satisfied with how I fared with my New Year’s Resolutions. My assessment of these are below.
Aveyard One-Name Study: Data collection is still ongoing in fits and starts. I did say I would be doing it at a relaxed pace, fitting it in and around. As things turned out it was more relaxed than anticipated. It was one of the non-essential pieces of work and, as a result, was one thing which ground to a halt when real life kicked in. I’m still working through the censuses.
Healey War Memorial Project: Names were quickly collected but again, because this was non-essential in the grander scheme of things as the year progressed, it has taken a back seat. And then my husband hi-jacked me for a different Great War project which has taken priority. More of that in my 2018 Resolutions.
Blog Posts: Through it all I’ve kept on blogging, averaging at just over two posts a month. So target met. I’ll do my annual blogging review shortly.
Palaeography Practice: Again another Resolution I’m happy with. The fact I signed up to a palaeography course with Pharos helped. I now enjoy transcribing. It’s my take on code-cracking. I need to keep practicing though. My archives visits certainly help.
Personal research into my brush maker ancestor, an asylum inmate, an army officer and two wills: I intended setting aside July to do this. For obvious reasons it never happened. However, I did manage to do a fair amount of the work later in the year by fitting it into an assessed genealogy assignment. I have a couple of loose ends to tie up, one of which involves a visit to the Borthwick Institute. But for all intents and purposes the work is done, and more besides. Although, as with much in family history, one brick wall broken leads to several more to crack.
Given the circumstances of the year, three out of five isn’t bad.
In other news, I am a civil servant no more. This has given me more time to devote to family history. I passed Year One of my Pharos Family History Skills and Strategies (Advanced) course. I have taken on a volunteering role as a committee member of Batley History Group. But the big news was in September I did something totally unplanned. I went to the Society of Genealogists to attend an interview and written test to become an Associate of the professional Association of Genealogists and Researchers in Archives (AGRA). I was thrilled to pass and see my profile on their website, especially given this was the period between dad’s death and his funeral. My pleasure was tinged with sadness: this was the first thing of major importance I couldn’t share with him.
So now I’m a professional genealogist, taking on client work and loving it. I take as much pleasure in researching for others as I do in undertaking my own family history journey of discovery.
As it’s a while since I announced the start of my Aveyard One-Name-Study it’s about time I gave a progress update.
In late spring I undertook an online “Introduction to One-Name Studies” course with Pharos Tutors. I wanted to start my study off on the right track. This course was designed with input from the Guild of One-Name Studies so it seemed ideal. And so it proved to be. The five weeks confirmed I’d chosen a theoretically manageable surname. It also gave me lots of ideas for running my study, from data collection, analysis and software tools, to publication and preservation.
I didn’t jump straight in to my study at the end of the course. I’m not rushing to get it all done in one go. It’s a long-term commitment. I wanted to assimilate all I’d learned. I also had holidays booked!
But I’m pleased to say I’m finally cracking on with data collection. I did consider doing a big data-scraping exercise, but in the end I’ve decided to go down the slow, methodical, manual route for some core datasets.
I’ve finished my FreeBMD and Commonwealth War Graves Commission collections. These were straightforward Excel downloads, then tidying up the data. Now I’m in the census phase of data collecting. And the relaxed pace is proving the right one for me here. I’m getting a real “feel” for my Aveyard families by going through the census with a critical eye. And transcribing the data myself from the censuses is hopefully overcoming some of those errors which occur when relying solely on Ancestry or FindMyPast transcriptions.
I’ve opted to use Excel for my data input in the first instance. The time spent on the manual data collection process has helped here too, by giving my chance to properly consider layout and key field names. But as a result of the course and subsequent research I’m also going to invest in Custodian. I do like a paper option and love my family history index cards. However I’m rapidly running out of house-room and I don’t want my daughter to leave home so I can have her bedroom……..Real family comes first.
I’m aiming to break the back of data-collection and entry by next spring-time. But as I said I’m in no rush. This is a hobby. It’s fun. I don’t want it to be like work or become some awful “oh no, not that today” chore. I won’t lose sleep over missing a self-imposed deadline. I’m fitting this one around me and my family. So there may be periods of intense activity. But there may be longer ones when I don’t get anything done. If so that’s OK.
But already I’m getting hooked on this new, broader family history angle. And hopefully I may gain more Aveyard ancestors and an insight into their origins and wider inter-connections along the way.
I mentioned in my WDYTYA? Live 2016 write-up that I had registered a one-name study with the Guild of One-Name Studies. My chosen name is Aveyard, the maiden name of my great grandmother (maternal).
It is a predominantly Yorkshire surname. According to the British Surnames Database there were 343 occurrences of the surname in the 1881 census. The overwhelming majority of these were in Yorkshire (293), with a smattering in Cheshire, Leicestershire and Lancashire. So Yorkshire had a tad over 85% of the total.
Looking purely at total numbers of the surname, the main census districts were Gildersome, Gomersal, West Ardsley, Manningham and East Ardsley (the location of my direct line ancestors in 1881). In terms of frequency (the percentage of people with that surname) Middleton in Hunslet came top, followed by Gildersome, East Ardsley, West Ardsley and Lofthouse cum Carlton.
The top forenames for the Aveyard surname in the 1881 census were – William, John and George (male) and Sarah, Mary and Elizabeth (for female): So nothing startling there.
The top occupations, excluding scholar, were those typically Yorkshire ones of coal miner and woollen weaver.
The Database has approximate 21st century statistics for the surname. In the UK there are 138 surname-bearers (still mainly Yorkshire), USA has 107 and Australia 40.
So in theory a perfectly manageable number for a study.
The Internet Surname Database indicates it is a locational surname, believed to originate from “some minor place believed to be in Yorkshire”. The meaning is said to derive from the personal name “Afa” plus the word for an enclosure “geard”. The surname first made its appearance in the latter half of the 16th century. This was John Aveyeard, a witness at a 29 September 1587 Mirfield christening. Other early Yorkshire parish record occurrences of the surname cited by the Database are:
Robert Aveyard’s 18 June 1592 marriage to Anne Arandell at Mirfield;
Nycholas Aveyard’s 27 August 1621 Dewsbury marriage to Mary Bothe;
Ann, daughter of Richard Aveyard, was christened on 1 January 1624, at Thornhill;
Nicholas Aveyard married Debora Westerman on 29 November 1641, at Rothwell;
George Redmonds’ impressive book “A Dictionary of Yorkshire Surnames” has a slightly different take. The Huddersfield historian and local surnames expert states the interpretation of the surname is difficult. The earliest reference he discovered is in 1540 in the Dewsbury Parish Register. The register refers to Robert Janyn alias Hayvyerd. Redmonds theorises as Janyn was a diminutive of John frequently used by French immigrants, the surname may be linked to Robert Janyn’s French ancestry. He discovered a reference Robert Janyn of Soothill in 1524, so believes there may be examples of the surname earlier than 1540. He also makes reference to the interpretation by Peter McClure that the name might be a form of Halfyard, a predominantly Somerset and Devon surname, but he seems to discount this: Aveyard is occasionally spelled as Haveyard and Halfyard, but not until the 1800s.
The enormity of the task facing me is now sinking in. I’ve read the Guild of One Name-Studies book’ “Seven Pillars of Wisdom: The Art of One –Name Studies”. Tomorrow I begin a Pharos Tutors “Introduction to One-Name Studies” course. I hope this sets me on the right track in terms of collection, analysis and presentation of data for this new genealogy journey. And on 10 May 2016 I hope to attend the Huddersfield and District Family History Society talk at Dewsbury Town Hall by the Guild’s Yorkshire Regional Representative, David Burgess.
It’s very early days so will take a while for me to get up to speed and collect, collate and analyse data. In the meantime, the email address for my study is firstname.lastname@example.org
“A Dictionary of Yorkshire Surnames” – George Redmonds