Category Archives: Criminal Ancestors

A Rifleman’s Crime of Passion

Murder! Murder! He’s murdering our Hannah in the house!’ The terrified screams of an old lady tore through the night silence of Batley’s Hume Street and New Street area. It was around 11pm on Saturday 19 August 1865.

Joseph Pease, a labourer living near to the Brook household, heard the cries for help, and rushed into the two-roomed cottage, home of 60-year-old widow Sarah Brook (also known as Sally). A horrific tableau met his eyes. The compact downstairs area, comprising a kitchen with stone stairs leading to the upper chamber, a fireplace directly facing the entrance door and to the right a cupboard bed, was blood splattered, from floor to furniture and walls. A young boy, the grandson of the old lady, cowered screaming on the far side of the bed, trying to evade danger. Plunging a bayonet repeatedly into his neck stood a youth, dressed in Rifle Corps uniform. Facing the youth, at the far side of the kitchen, was 18-year-old Hannah Brook, daughter of Sarah. Dressed in a black frock, blood was pouring from her neck and mouth. Another witness described how blood was ‘sponging from a hole in her side.’ [1]

Pease rushed at the man, 19-year-old Eli Sykes, and seized him, though he was stabbed in the thigh and slightly injured in the struggle. William Fawcett, a cabinet maker, who had been visiting his father-in-law in Hume Street, followed up and managed to wrench the bayonet, dripping with blood from assailant and victims, from Sykes. He removed it from the scene for safety.

Others swiftly appeared, alerted by the commotion. Someone carried Sarah Brook, her white nightdress now blood-soaked, to the bed where she died. Others gave Hannah water. She attempted to speak, but could not. Within minutes she too was dead. Both women had received multiple stab wounds (Sarah nine and Hannah seven), including fatal punctures to their hearts.

Meanwhile, the police arrived at the house, now surrounded by hundreds of people despite it being nearly midnight. Sykes was restrained in a chair. His rifle was on a table, the stock broken in two. Police Sergeant English, of the West Riding Constabulary, charged the silent Sykes with murder. At this point he finally opened his eyes and looked towards the bed where the two women lay.

Dr William Bayldon, amongst those officials summoned to the house, examined Sykes’ wounds and found them not to be serious. He declared hind sufficiently fit to be transferred to the Dewsbury lock-up. Here Dr W.H. Thornton re-examined the prisoner and agreed that, although the wounds were deep, they were not fatal.

On Tuesday 22 August 1865 the double funeral of Sarah and Hannah Brook took place at Batley Parish Church. People arrived at Batley railway station by the trainload. Many viewed the corpses, laid out in the very room where they met their brutal fate less than three days before. The faces of the deceased were bare, heads covered by skull-caps, countenances placid and at peace.

People from across the West Riding, including Leeds, Bradford, Wakefield, Halifax and Heckmondwike, lined the funeral route. Estimates put the numbers of spectators in the region of at least 20,000. The church was packed with people in their working clothes. Amongst those paying their final respects was a young man from Wakefield – James Henry Ashton.

Female acquaintances carried the coffins of the women to their burial place: older women carried the coffin of Sarah, whilst young mill girls carried Hannah’s. They were interred in a grave around 20 yards away from the church yard entrance gates, on the south east side of the church.

Batley Parish Church – Photo by Jane Roberts

The murders horrified not only those living in the growing, industrial mill town of Batley, but sent shockwaves across the country. The recurring question was why? What had caused a seemingly law-abiding young man to commit such a brutal crime?

Initial details began to appear through official channels in days after the murder. Two inquest hearings took place before the Coroner at the White Hart Hotel in Batley, a local pub which is now a residential property. A wilful murder verdict resulted .

© Copyright Betty Longbottom and licensed for reuse under creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0

Eli also appeared before the local magistrates. In his initial appearance, a seated Eli looked weak with a scarf round his neck, but with scarcely any evidence of his self-inflicted throat wounds. The main hearing took place at Dewsbury court house.

As a result of this magistrates hearing, Eli was committed to trial at the next Leeds Assizes on a murder charge. Here, at Leeds Town Hall on 19 December 1865, the full case was heard. It provided even more information and drama to an eager audience.

Hannah Brook was born in Batley in 1847, the daughter of weaver Mark Brook and his wife Sarah (née Darnbrook). Sarah was previously married to Robert Fearnley, who died in 1837, so Hannah had a number of half-siblings. By 1861 the family had moved from the Havercroft area of Batley to Hume Street, and in July 1864 Mark died. Thereafter Sarah lived upon the income derived from a small property near Batley [2]. Hannah, described as a cheerful girl, worked as a mill hand [3] at Alexandra Mill in Batley.

Eli Sykes was a cloth-finisher. Born in Ossett in 1846 he was the son of cordwainer John Sykes and his wife Sarah Ellis. The family moved to Dewsbury in around 1850/51, and by 1865 they lived at Batley Carr, almost opposite Holy Trinity Church. Although described as holding a humble position in society, they were a very respectable family.

After the events that fateful August night, a few isolated newspapers described Eli as a shady young man, with a wild, roving disposition who had caused much trouble for his parents since leaving Sunday School. But these are outliers. The overwhelming number of accounts testify to his good character. They paint a picture of a well-behaved, quiet, industrious young man. One work colleague, William Bentley Walton described him as straightforward and peaceable. He had worked with Sykes for three years and never had a quarrel with him. Robert Jones, a neighbour of the Brooks family, said he always appeared a quiet, well-conducted lad and his manner towards Hannah was invariably kind and affectionate. Hannah Hirst, a friend of Hannah Brook who had known Eli for three years, said they ‘always appeared to be very affectionate when together. He was very kind to Hannah…’ and she ‘…never heard any quarrel between them.’ [4]

For about two years prior to that August night, like many other young men Eli spent his free time with the local military unit. It was a social activity, away from the confines of home and work. In Eli’s case he was a Private in the No3 (Batley Carr) Company of the 29th (Dewsbury) West York Volunteer Corps. His fellow members there vouched for his steady nature, general civility and good behaviour.

Eli and Hannah met on 10 March 1863 during celebrations which took place countrywide marking the marriage of Queen Victoria’s eldest son Prince Albert Edward of Wales to Princess Alexandra of Denmark. Their friendship developed to full-blown courtship, with Eli a frequent visitor to the Brook house. Despite a short break up in the early days of their relationship which they quickly patched up, the general assumption by all was the logical next step for the pair was marriage. They seemed well-suited. Eli had a reliable mill job to provide for a wife and, eventually, family. And by all accounts he was a steady young man. But they were young, possibly too young to commit for life. And emotions could quickly change.

And this proved the case for Hannah. For some reason in July 1865 her feelings towards Eli cooled. The indication was she had met someone else – a man from Wakefield named James Henry Ashton: the man mentioned amongst the mourners at her funeral the following month. Their meetings included a picnic at Howley Hall, where she was seen dancing with him. But whether he was the cause of the change in Hannah is unclear. Some sources suggest she took up with James whilst still seeing Eli. Others claim the relationship with Eli was already over by the time she became involved with James.

1881 Illustration of Howley Hall Ruins – published in 1881 (out of copyright)

Despite Hannah repeatedly telling Eli that their relationship was over, he would not accept it. As far as he was concerned she was the love of his life. He doggedly followed her trying to persuade her to change her mind, often turning up unannounced at her Hume Street home. Friends advised Eli to let it drop. One who cautioned thus was power loom weaver George Fearnley, who happened to be Hannah’s brother. Eli told George how grieved he was at Hannah’s refusal to see him, and he did not know what to do. George told Eli he was being a foolish lad, and that there were plenty other girls.

Hannah Hirst was another one who witnessed Eli’s continued pursuit of his former sweetheart. On 13 July Miss Brook took tea at Miss Hirst’s Batley Carr home, an occurrence noticed by Eli. Later that night, after Hannah Brook returned home, Eli called at the Hirst home. He told Miss Hirst that Hannah’s new love would be coming over the following week. Then, striking his hat violently against a chair, he declared ‘If I don’t have her, no one else shall.’ Hannah Hirst stated ‘Eli, I think you are going out of your mind.’ His ominous response was ‘You’ll see.

The day of the murder coincided with a large agricultural and flower show in neighbouring Drighlington. Three companies of the West Yorks Volunteer Corps, amongst them Eli, caught the train to Drighlington to join up with the Birstall contingent for drill. At 8pm they marched back to the railway station were they were served either a half pint of ale, or ginger beer, prior to catching the 9.30pm train back to Batley. Despite three carriages being reserved for the men, not all could entrain due to the vast numbers returning from the show. Eli, though, did have a place and, with about 90 comrades, arrived in Batley at 9.40pm. Some lingered at the station chatting, or waiting for the 10pm train to Dewsbury. Others set off to walk home, including Eli. When he and a friend reached Hick Lane, Eli suggested detouring into Batley. Due to the late hour the friend declined, leaving Eli to carry on alone.

William Bentley Walton was in The Commercial Inn at around 10.30pm, when he saw Eli dressed in his volunteer uniform, rifle in hand and bayonet sheathed at his side. Friends and workmates, Eli told him he was going to Hannah’s. William advised him against it, knowing from earlier conversations with Eli that she had told him to stay away. It was advice Eli chose to ignore. Perhaps it did not help that William told Eli he had seen Hannah go by about 15 minutes earlier. Instead of passing through Batley Eli made the fateful decision to turn off for the Brook’s cottage. All accounts agreed Eli was sober, so drink did not influence what happened next.

Extract of Six-inch OS Map: Yorkshire 232. Surveyed 1847 to 1851; Published 1854 – Shows Batley with some key locations marked up

Robert Jones, who lived next door but one to Sarah and Hannah, made his way to nearby New Street between 11-12pm. He noticed Eli and Hannah talking outside her Hume Street home. Robert politely asked the couple if they had been to the show. Both said no. He left them still talking, no indication of anything more serious going on. However, the situation rapidly deteriorated in the short time it took for Robert to quickly visit New Street and return to his Hume Street home.

Despite the seeming civility of the conversation witnessed by Robert, Eli’s visit was once more an unwelcome one. By now he was inside the house, again asking Hannah to go back out with him. Once more Hannah said no. Hannah’s mother became involved telling Eli to go away, they did not want him there. Meanwhile, according to Eli’s testimony, a now seated Hannah began singing a popular ballad ‘The Gay Cavalier’ about a man disappointed by the lady he loved. It contained the lyrics ‘She may go to Hong Kong for me’, with Hannah replacing the ‘She’ for ‘You’. Driven to a fury by the perceived taunts and rejection by his former love, he raised his rifle and struck Hannah across her head with the butt, a blow so hard it cracked the stock. The force knocked Hannah out of the chair. Eli then drew out his bayonet, and the stabbing frenzy on both Hannah and her mother commenced. And it was at this point Sarah raised the alarm call, drawing first Joseph Pease and William Fawcett, followed by a host of other neighbours and the police.

Once in custody, according to police statements, Eli reportedly said ‘I feel easier in my mind, and better satisfied now than before I did it.’ He also allegedly said ‘Although I murdered her I loved her – I have told her many a time I’d have my revenge, and I’ve got it now.[5] The police also reported his apparent indifference whilst in custody, Eli laughing and whistling as if nothing had happened. It was as if he failed to recognise the magnitude of his crime. His only display of real emotion appeared to be when his family visited him.

The trial at the Leeds Assizes on 19 December 1865 would bring home the enormity soon enough. Prior to the trial, on 8 December, he was transferred to the imposing Victorian edifice of Armley Gaol. Opened under 20 years earlier as Leeds Borough Gaol, it had only recently taken over from York Castle as the place where West Riding executions were carried out. The first two had taken place as recently as September 1864.

Leeds Town Hall – Published in 1862, out of copyright

From early morning of the trial at the court in Leeds Town Hall, the corridors teamed with people. Many came from the Batley and Dewsbury area, a high proportion of them gaily-dressed women, their frocks incongruous to a court setting. Perhaps the fact this magnificent building had been opened only in 1858 by Queen Victoria, as much as the trial, enticed the good folk of Batley and Dewsbury. It was a day out.

Those lucky enough to gain entry to the crowded courtroom listened intently to the parade of witnesses. Eli’s defence argued that jealousy drove him to commit the crime. In the heat of the moment he lost all sense of reason. His temporary insanity meant it was manslaughter not murder. Justice Shee, in his summing up, would have none of this. Within 30 minutes the jury announced its guilty verdict.

In a show of emotion which reduced many in the courtroom to tears, Eli made his impassioned address. Sobbing, tears almost blinding him and choking his every word, he stated:

My Lord, and gentlemen of the jury, – I never had it in my mind to do it before it was done. If these were my dying words, I could say in the presence of God that I never meant to kill Hannah. I never struck her with the rifle. God only knows what happened in that house that night. He only knows what she said to me – how she began singing, and said words that I never thought could have come out of a woman’s mouth. And yet I loved her; in my heart I loved her as never woman was loved before, if my doom is death, I hope I shall meet her in heaven. But I don’t think I shall be hanged; the Queen will be merciful to me. I never thought it would come to this. Many a time have I gone with her to Wakefield, but little did I think she was deceiving me and went to meet another sweetheart. If she had not jeered at me, I would not have hurt her for my life. I hope I shall meet her in heaven, and I can only pray that if my doom is to be death that God will take my sufferings from me. I hope that my prayers shall be answered, and that we shall meet in that glorious land where we shall never be parted. She has gone to that land, and I will die to get to her….. [6]

Although the statement deeply affected the Judge, it did not change the sentence. Eli was to be executed by hanging. With the Judge’s final words of ‘And may God, in his infinite mercy, have mercy on your soul’ ringing in his ears, Eli was removed to Armley Gaol to await his fate.

Eli’s trial address had a wider impact. Public opinion was divided as to the correctness of the sentence. Petitions sprang up requesting a commutation of it. George Armitage, one of the magistrates who committed Eli to trial at the Assizes, similarly expressed himself in favour of a reduced sentence. A piece in the Leeds Mercury on 21 December praised Eli’s character, spoke of his pure, honourable and ardent love for Hannah, pointedly saying little was known about her character. They also seemed to support Eli’s belief, expressed at the Assizes, that Hannah was deceiving him saying ‘we do not see that the correctness of his belief is called into question’. The conclusion they hinted at was Eli deserved a more lenient punishment than the death sentence. On the scale of murder, perhaps this was one which was not cold-blooded and calculated. It perhaps held some element of justification. How many times since has some apportionment of blame been attached to women victims of crime?

For Hannah and Sarah’s grieving family, this Leeds Mercury piece proved too much. George Fearnley felt compelled to write to the paper to set the record straight about the piece which ‘reflects in a most unjust and unwarrantable manner upon the conduct and character of my lamented sister…’. His letter, dated 28 December, featured in the Leeds Mercury on 30 December. In it he refuted allegations that Hannah deceived Eli by going with him to Wakefield to meet another lover. The only occasions they went to Wakefield together was to see friends there. In a lengthy missive he also asserted that Sykes:

…knew well … that before her feelings towards him had so far changed as to induce her to prefer another, my sister had insisted upon breaking off her connection with him and told him to stay away; and so far from her having encouraged his addresses after this time, she uniformly refused to see him, and did all she could to compel him to discontinue his visits…I presume, Gentlemen, that neither you nor any one else will deny that my sister had a perfect right, if she so wished it, to break off her connection with Sykes; and having done so, she had also a right to keep company with another if she chose, and that, too, without subjecting herself to annoyance, to threats, or to murder…I conclude by asking from the public a verdict that shall acquit her of all blame… [7]

Even as this letter was being read and digested by the public to which George appealed, the case had undergone a new, dramatic, and unexpected, twist.

Eli returned to Armley Gaol after his conviction and was placed under the day care of warder Charles Hampshire, a man with 17 years experience. Charles Jacups took over responsibility at night. The men were ordered to keep the prisoner under constant watch.

The Gaol had two cells for condemned prisoners. Initially Eli was placed in the cell on the ground floor, but subsequently was moved to the cell on the floor above due to concerns about the suicide risk posed by the other condemned man, Patrick Welsh. No such concerns were held for Eli, who spoke a good deal about religion and still appeared to entertain the hope that the Queen would commute his sentence to penal servitude. The prison chaplain, Rev Middleton, who visited Eli daily, also entertained no concerns about his state of mind.

On Saturday 23 December the chaplain visited Eli at 5.15pm and left at around 6pm. He failed to lock the door. Charles Hampshire also failed to check Eli was secure in his cell after the chaplain’s visit. Thomas Hampshire, brother of Charles, another experienced warder compounded the error. A trusted employee, he had worked at Armley Gaol since its opening, and prior to that he served five years at Wakefield prison. That evening it was his duty to call the roll and check the cell doors were double locked. He commenced the check at 5.45pm and finished at 6.20pm. Eli’s door appeared to be secure…but it was not. The mistake had huge consequences, including the suspension of Charles Hampshire and the dismissal of Thomas.

At about 6.40pm a large crash, like the firing of guns, echoed in the confines of the prison. Eli had escaped from his cell. Unhindered, he managed to get to the floor above, where he climbed on the balustrade and threw himself on to the flags around 20-25 feet below [8]. He landed on his feet, before falling over and banging his head, rendering himself unconscious for about half an hour. He did suffer convulsions in the initial aftermath, but his leg injuries were the main concern, in particular the compound fracture to his left ankle which haemorrhaged. William Nicholson Price, the prison surgeon, along with the Leeds Infirmary surgeon Mr Wheelhouse, stabilised him and he seemed to progress favourably. However, Eli did try to hinder his recovery throughout, attempting to remove his bandages and doing his utmost to prevent routine medical checks.

The opinion was Eli had attempted suicide to spare his mother, believing his hanging would be the death of her. But all in authority remained hopeful that hanging would be his just fate. In fact stringent attempts were made to ensure he remained alive for his appointed date with the hangman’s noose on 15 January 1866.

In the afternoon and evening of 3 January 1866 Eli suffered a couple of secondary haemorrhages. Both were staunched and, once again, although weakened he seemingly rallied. It proved a temporary recovery. On the evening of 6 January a further bleed occurred. Once again the flow was stemmed, and reduced to an ooze. Eli’s condition continued to deteriorate though, despite best efforts of those charged with his care. Conscious throughout this period, he died in his prison cell at about 9.20pm that night.

Old Gate Armley Gaol (edited Black & White) – Wikimedia Commons, Creative Commons License 3.0 (Share Alike)

The inquest took place on 9 January. That day a letter appeared in the Leeds Mercury. Dated 8 January 1866, it was from Eli’s father. With remarkable restraint, John Sykes wrote to highlight the lack of compassion shown to both himself and his wife. They arrived at Armley Gaol that morning to view their son’s body and say a final goodbye. The Governor refused permission without a magistrate’s order. John left his wife at the prison whilst he went into Leeds to obtain the necessary documentation. Yet even with signed authority the Governor would not allow John and Sarah entry to see their son one last time.

John Sykes was present at the inquest though. Here the jury reached a verdict of Felo de Se (suicide). Eli’s burial was ordered to take place at midnight in the precincts of Armley Gaol, without any religious ceremony.

The sensational events captured public imagination to such an extent that enterprising publishers sold fly-sheets containing lurid (and often inaccurate) details about the case. The events in Batley were even immortalised in verse. It seems only fitting to end this post with one such example.

Miss Hannah Brooks [sic] was a factory maiden,
By every one she was well liked;
And long poor Hannah had been courted,
By the young cloth-worker, Eli Sykes,
Hannah Brook forsook her lover
Which caused him the maid to kill,
And her aged tender mother
By his hands their blood was spilled.

In Yorkshire, such a dreadful murder
Before we’re sure was never seen;
Committed was by Eli Sykes –
A youth, whose age is but nineteen.
He lov’d the maiden to distraction –
From drill he went straightway;
Hannah harshly with her mother
Ordered Eli Sykes away.

As he stood in his regimentals,
So frantically he gazed around;
And with the butt-end of his rifle,
Quickly knocked his true-love down.
Her mother strove to save her daughter –
He did in frenzy swear an oath,
And plunged his bayonet in each body
Many times and killed them both.

He strove then to commit self-murder,
But was prevented as we see;
The factory maiden and her mother,
Who was aged sixty-three, [9]
There in death’s cold arms was sleeping,
Weltering in their crimson gore;
Friends and neighbours round them weeping,
For them they’d see in life no more.

Notes:
[1] Leeds Mercury – 22 August 1865;
[2] Yorkshire Gazette – 26 August 1865;
[3] Some reports indicate she was a power loom weaver;
[4] Leeds Mercury – 20 December 1865;
[5] Leeds Mercury – 22 August 1865;
[6] Yorkshire Gazette – 23 December 1865;
[7] Leeds Mercury – 30 December 1865;
[8] A letter from Prison Surgeon William Nicholson Price which featured in the Leeds Mercury of 26 December 1865 said the drop was around 25-26 feet;
[9] Other records put Sarah’s age as 60, and her baptism at Birstall St Peter’s on 20 January 1805 (Sarah Darnbrough) suggests this is likely to be her correct age.

Sources (in addition to those mentioned in the notes):

  • 1841-1861 Censuses, England and Wales;
  • Annals of Yorkshire, 1862 and 1866;
  • Barnsley Chronicle – 2 September 1865;
  • Bradford Observer – 4 January 1866;
  • GRO Birth and Death registrations;
  • Home Office Correspondence and Warrants, HO13/108/236, 23 December 1865, accessed via Findmypast;
  • Home Office Correspondence and Warrants, HO13/108/245, 13 January 1866, accessed via Findmypast;
  • Home Office Criminal Registers, HO27 Piece 142, 13 December 1865, accessed via Findmypast;
  • Home Office and Prison Commission Prison Records, PCOM2/417/74, accessed via Findmypast
  • Illustrated Police News – 27 September 1934;
  • Leeds Mercury – 23 and 28 August 1865, 21 December 1865, 9 and 10 January 1866;
  • Leeds Times – 23 and 30 December 1865;
  • Old Yorkshire, 1881;
  • Parish registers – Batley, Birstall and St Paul’s Hanging Heaton, accessed via Ancestry.co.uk;
  • The OS Map is reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland under a Creative Commons licence. https://maps.nls.uk/index.html
  • Yorkshire Gazette – 28 August 1865

Newspapers accessed via The British Newspaper Archive and Findmypast

Hidden History of Batley: A Mill Horror

No-one in Batley foresaw the consequences that the 1856 hanging of the infamous Rugeley Poisoner, Dr William Palmer [1], would have on the Yorkshire town. Consequences which led three local lads to end up in court in York on grave charges before the year was out.

The Staffordshire serial killer had no association with Batley, whose residents – along with those throughout the country – read with morbid fascination of the doctor’s lurid lifestyle and alleged killing spree. Yet the theatre and spectacle surrounding the murders, and subsequent enactment of justice, did strike an unfortunate chord with some in this developing Yorkshire mill town.

Such were the concerns surrounding a fair hearing for the case given its notoriety, a special Act of Parliament was rushed through to allow Palmer’s trial to take place at the Old Bailey rather than Stafford. The so-called ‘Trial of the Century’ gripped the country over 12 days in May 1856, with newspapers providing coverage of every twist and turn.

Palmer was eventually convicted of the murder of a friend John Parsons Cook who he poisoned, it was claimed, with strychnine. This was the first ever trial for murder by strychnine in this country. But he was also suspected of the poisoning of many more in a bid to clear his debts – including his wife, four children, brother and mother-in-law. 

He was publicly hanged on 14 June 1856 at Stafford prison before a crowd estimated to be in excess of 30,000, many of whom camped out all night in pouring rain to ensure their place at the grisly spectacle. On the morning of his execution Charles Dickens described him as “the greatest villain that ever stood in the Old Bailey dock.[2].

The trial of William Palmer for the Rugeley poisonings. Credit: Wellcome CollectionCC BY

After death Palmer’s infamy lived on, spawning whole new mini-industries with the production of souvenir broadsheets, and ballads. Even the rope-maker who made the noose had a lucrative side-line selling extra sections of rope for a guinea a time. Up and down the country Palmer’s name was on the lips of men, women and children.

Back in Batley, on Friday 3 October 1856, 12-year-old John Harris set off to start work at 7am at Joseph Jubb and Brother’s mill. The son of Ann Harris, described as a widow in poor circumstances but of irreproachable character [3], John had been employed at the mill for only three weeks. At 8am he ate his breakfast in the top storey of the building. With him were three other boys, Joshua Firth (age 15), Benjamin Preston (age 14) and 13-year-old Abraham Sharp. John had known Joshua and Abraham for a couple of years, and Benjamin for a couple of months.

The area where the boys breakfasted contained a trap door, and nearby stood a steam-operated crane which was used to hoist wool etc. up from the lower stories of the mill. As John prepared to return to work the other lads were still larking around. Inspired by the recent trial they decided to play a game of ‘Hang Palmer’, with Joshua declaring that the new boy John would be Palmer. John cried “You shall not hang Palmer with me” and tried to run away. In his witness statement John went on to say:

Preston ran after me and caught me, then Sharp tied a rope under my arms and round my body, the others assisting him. Then Firth tied the rope to the crane. I tried to get loose, but I could not. I told them to let me go, but they never spoke…I am sure I did not play with the other boys, and they tied the rope round me against my wish. Firth has thrashed me many a time when I have gone for water, but the others have never thrashed me. [4]

Perhaps ‘Hang Palmer’ had been re-enacted before in the mill. Perhaps it was a prank played elsewhere by boys up and down the country, such was the impact of the deeds, trial and death of ‘Prince of Poisoners,’ William Palmer. This time though the game went badly wrong, with tragic results for all involved.

On another floor workmen set the crane in motion to pull up a sheet of wool. The chain caught the rope tied to John, he became entangled in the chain which squeezed his body, leaving him incapable of calling for help. He was drawn over the crane roller towards the ceiling beam around eight feet above at the top of the mill, where he mercifully lost consciousness as he was crushed. 

Benjamin ran down to the second story and alerted workman Robert Senior who raced up to the top. The crane lever was lowered and John released. Surgeon Mr Halbut was summoned. In addition to concussion, John sustained a fractured left arm and a spinal injury causing paralysis to his lower limbs. 

He was carried home, where leeches were applied to his head in a bid to treat him. It was not until 8 October, after unsurprisingly failing to recover from his severe injuries, that he was finally transferred to hospital, over at Leeds Infirmary. Here doctors kept authorities informed of the seriousness of the young victim’s wounds.

With John now conscious but perilously ill, in mid-October Joshua, Benjamin and Abraham were taken into custody, charged with causing him serious bodily harm. So critical was John’s condition, magistrates deemed it necessary to take his statement at his Infirmary bedside in the presence of the three accused. The younger two boys placed the prime responsibility on the elder boy casting him in the role of ringleader, saying they wanted him to untie John but Joshua refused to. The West Riding magistrates released the boys on bail.

Extract of six-inch OS map of Leeds, surveyed 1846-1847, published 1852 showing the old location of the Infirmary and Court House – Adapted

On 21 October they appeared again before the West Riding magistrate’s court in Leeds. As a result of evidence from Leeds Infirmary’s Dr Samuel Smith that John might not recover, the three boys this time were refused bail. They were taken to the Borough Gaol to await their next appearance a week later. At this subsequent hearing the Infirmary Medical Officer once more stated John was still dangerously ill. This time the case was adjourned for a month, and bail granted.

John died in Leeds Infirmary on the morning of Tuesday 25 November 1856. That afternoon the trio were brought before the West Riding magistrates at Leeds Court house once more where Mr Hardwick, house surgeon at Leeds Infirmary, stated John had died as a result of his spinal injuries. Joshua, Benjamin and Abraham were bailed, awaiting trial at the winter Gaol Delivery at York in December on a charge of manslaughter. 

The inquest, held the following afternoon, concurred with the cause of death. Mr Ferns, solicitor for the prisoners, presented a supportive letter from the Jubb brothers, mill owners and employers of the lads. The letter read;

Batley, near Dewsbury, Nov. 25th, 1856. Mr. Ferns, Sir, – We understand you are employed to defend the three boys charged with inflicting injury on the lad Harris, who has died in the Infirmary.
As owners of the factory where the accident happened, we are desirous to express to the coroner and jury our entire conviction of the innocence of the boys’ intentions towards the deceased, and that the boys were playing together without any evil design as boys usually do. 
We may mention, in case it might come in useful in any way, that we deposited £10 with the vicar of this parish to defray the expenses of Harris’s funeral, in case of death and that if he had lived we had arranged with the factory inspectors to pay down a further sum for his benefit.
Yours respectfully
JOSEPH JUBB AND BROTHERS [5].

The coroner, Mr Blackburn, did not allow it as evidence. Duly, the jury reached a verdict of manslaughter.

The following day John was buried in Beckett Street Cemetery, Leeds [6].

Around a fortnight later, on 12 December 1856, the three youths were in York facing the charge of manslaughter before Mr Commissioner Russell Gurney Esq QC. The prosecution case, presented by Mr Morley and Mr Hannay, hinged on the fact that although the affair was in sport, the refusal of John to join in made it manslaughter. Mr Middleton, for the defence, claimed John’s death was purely accidental arising from boyish sport. The crane was set in motion by a hand over which the prisoners had no control and, as a result, they could not be guilty of manslaughter. Summing up, his Lordship Commissioner Gurney in effect told the jury that if the facts presented were proved, the death of John was unintentional and did not spring from the acts of the accused. As such the jury must acquit the prisoners. The jury took this advice and passed a verdict of not guilty.

So, who were these boys? From preliminary searches of censuses, parish registers and civil registration information it appears that they all, along with John, lived in the Havercroft area of Batley. Joshua is most likely the son of Thomas and Mary Firth (née Ellis). Benjamin was most likely the son of Joseph and Ann Preston (née Preston). Abraham was the son of Joseph and Rebecca Sharp (née Marshall).

The three lads were discharged into the custody of their parents, free to return home.  One mother though, Ann Harris, would never have her son home again. By extension, and through a prank gone wrong, he too can be considered a collateral victim of Palmer.

One of the mills associated with the Jubb family. They took sole ownership of New Ing Mills in 1859 and most of the buildings on the site date from after this period, including this main 1863 construction – photo by Jane Roberts

As to which mill in Batley was the scene of this tragic event, none of the newspaper articles I have read identify it. The Jubbs owned several in town over the years. There is a possibility it was their [Old] Branch [Road] Mill which burned down at the beginning of September 1876 [7] and which they owned outright at the time of the John Harris tragedy. In fact, just over six months after the York trial they were fined for employing children under 13 years of age without schooling at that particular mill [8]. In the same period, they were also associated with New Ing Mills. Originally partners there, they eventually acquired sole possession by 1859, and commenced a building programme which significantly changed the premises in the 1860s. However, at the time of the incident New Ing Mills was in joint ownership, so this I believe is the less likely location.

But, as I hope this tale illustrates, it is amazing to contemplate the hidden history which took place in buildings long gone, and others still standing, in my hometown of Batley.

Notes:

[1] William Palmer website http://staffscc.net/wppalmer/ ;
[2] Household Words, A Weekly Journal, 14 June 1856;
[3] The Leeds Times, 29 November 1856;
[4] The Intelligencer Supplement, 18 October 1856;
[5] The Leeds Intelligencer, 29 November 1856;
[6] Leeds Beckett Street Cemetery Records, accessed via Ancestry.co.uk, original records at West Yorkshire Archive Service, Ref LC/CEM (B)/1/1, Numbers 1-18747, 1845-1862;
[7] Coincidentally, another similarly named mill in the area, Branch Mill which was built by the Jubbs in around 1874 and latterly owned by Messrs. J., T., and J. Taylor, burned down in July 1915;
[8] The Leeds Times, 25 July 1857;

Sources:
(All newspapers accessed via the British Newspaper Archive on Findmypast)

  • Huddersfield and Holmfirth Examiner, 29 November and 13 December 1856
  • The Bradford Observer, 27 November 1856;
  • The Intelligencer Supplement, 18 and 25 October 1856;
  • The Leeds Intelligencer, 30 October, 1 and 29 November 1856;
  • The Leeds Mercury, 27 November 1856;
  • The Leeds Times, 1 and 29 November 1856, and 25 July 1857;
  • England and Wales Censuses 1841 to 1871 accessed via Ancestry.co.uk and Findmypast;
  • GRO Indexes, accessed via Findmypast and the GRO website;
  • West Yorkshire Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1813-1835, accessed via Ancestry.co.uk, original records at West Yorkshire Archive Service;
  • West Yorkshire Church of England Baptisms 1813 – 1910, accessed via Ancestry.co.uk, original records at West Yorkshire Archive Service;
  • Wellcome Library Images: https://wellcomelibrary.org/
  • OS Map Reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland https://maps.nls.uk/index.html under a Creative Commons licence.

A Batley Murder: “I Have Done it For Love”

On 31 December 1895 Tom Morley received a final letter at his Batley home from his brother Pat. Written from Armley jail on the eve of Pat’s death it read:

My dear Tom, I am very sorry to part with ye, but I hope I will meet ye in heaven, I will soon be in a better place withe [sic] the help of God I am preparing to go home to-morrow at nine o’clock, and I am leaving ye all my kind love. Let ye all pray for me this night and let ye pray for poor Lizzie that is gone before me. Dear Tom, I was no disgrace to you this 20 years in England untill [sic] now. Tom, it is my foolishness that left me here. It is hard work to rite [sic] this letter. Tom, I must conclude, and I am bidding ye all a long farewell. God be with you for ever. [1]

Pat Morley’s last night on earth was fairly restful. In the morning he ate a light breakfast, and was joined from 7am until 8.50am by Father Hassing, the Catholic prison chaplain. Prayers were said until James Billington, the government hangman, came for him.

Arms strapped to his side Morley was led to the chalk-marked drop point by a number of warders. Father Hassing, in the procession, recited the service for the dead in Latin. On reaching the spot, his ankles were strapped together, his face covered with a white cap, Major Knox the Prison Governor gave the signal and Morley dropped 7′ 6″ to his death.

One hour later he was cut down, placed in a black-painted coffin and the perfunctory inquest held confirming the death sentence had been duly carried out. Two more formalities ensued. The Declaration of the Sheriff and Others read:

We, the undersigned, hereby declare that Judgment of Death was this Day executed on Patrick Morley in Her Majesty’s Prison of Leeds in our Presence.
Dated this 31st day of December 1895 E Gray Under Sheriff of Yorkshire. James Knox, Governor of the said Prison. Anthony J Hassing Chaplain of the said Prison. [2]

The Certificate of the Armley Prison Surgeon (at this time the word Surgeon was also used to refer to a doctor, rather than having our 21st century understanding), Berkeley Moynihan stated he had examined the body of Patrick Morley and death was confirmed. Later Berkeley Moynihan was elevated to the peerage as the 1st Baron Moynihan. More recent readers may be more familiar with the 4th Baron Colin Moynihan, a British Olympic coxswain and a former Conservative sports minister, who was the grandson of the Armley prison doctor.

Old Gate Armley Gaol (edited Black & White) – Wikimedia Commons, Creative Commons License 3.0 (Share Alike)

It was all a far cry from Pat’s early life on a farm near Charlestown, County Mayo. In this countryside surrounds he was brought up with his three brothers and two sisters. But, as was the case with so many Irish, their homelands became but distant memories. By the 1890s one brother lived in Liverpool, another in Ripon and a third, Thomas, in Batley along with a sister, Bridget. Their father, however, remained in Ireland.

Standing at 5′ 7″ [3] Patrick was a thin, spare man, with sharp cast features and a somewhat ruddy appearance. Some went so far as to describe him as having an intellectual type of face. His most noteworthy features were his deep, brooding eyes – although Lucy Cooper, one of the witnesses giving evidence in front of the Magistrates in Batley Town Hall on 30 September, said to much laughter “Nay, he’s nowt in my line to look at.

In England Pat was said:

…to have been possessed of a good bit of pride, and, being able to command good wages, he has, to quote the words of one of his relatives, “not gone into the tap-rooms but into the best rooms, amongst the gents.” [4]

He met Elizabeth Stratton whilst working in Harrogate. She ran a lodging house in which he stayed. Born in Halifax in 1853 (so slightly older than the 35 years indicated at the time of her death), she was the daughter of John and Elizabeth Stratton (née Penny). She and her siblings, William, Mary, Joseph and James, grew up in Bradford with their father’s jobs including a labourer in a stone quarry and an earthenware dealer. Her parents died in late 1880 and, after initially working as a glass and China shopkeeper in Bradford, she moved to Harrogate. Described as a respectable, educated woman she was often seen in that town dressed in black, wearing a veil.

According to the same relative of Pat’s:

…seeing he had some good clothes and was a decent fellow who didn’t mix with the roughs, she married him. [5]

Their wedding took place in Harrogate at Christmas-time in 1893.

Within months though marital problems emerged. Although regarded as a quiet, steady, inoffensive man, it seemed Pat liked a drink. This caused him to became jealous of the lodgers. According to Tom “He was not a right drunkard but he spent his money in drink.” [6]

One jealous alcohol-fuelled incident saw Pat hitting a resident on the head with a poker.

When Lizzie arranged to remove her furniture from the house and leave, Pat barricaded himself inside and refused the removal men entry. She relented and returned to him, but as a result of his behaviour lodgers shunned Diamond Place, frightened away by the antics of the proprietor’s new husband.

The couple eventually left Harrogate, initially moving to Hunslet Lane, Leeds. It was here in July 1894 that Pat was bound over to keep the peace for 12 months after threatening his wife. A loaded revolver was found in his possession and taken from him – his brother Tom subsequently claimed in a statement to have thrown it into a river.

The couple came to Batley shortly afterwards (his brother reckoned about September 1894), living at Beaconsfield Villa. Here Pat worked for Batley Corporation as a labourer whilst Lizzie was employed as a power loom weaver at Sheard’s mill.

In July 1895, just before the expiration of his previous sentence, Pat appeared once again before the police court. It was a familiar charge: once more he’d made threats against his wife.

This time he was fined 40s and costs and bound over to keep the peace for six months.

He went to Harrogate to cool off and whilst he was away Lizzie, fearing for her safety, left the marital home. In early September she took lodgings at 1 Hirst Place, off Purlwell Lane, in the cottage belonging to Ellen Nutton and her married daughter Lucy Cooper.

Pat returned to Batley on 14 September for Batley Feast and immediately sought out his wife. In the following days he was a frequent visitor to Hirst Place, pleading with Lizzie to return to him. She refused, afraid he would harm her telling him “You know Pat, I daren’t live with you. You know you have threatened me so often.” [7]. At other times she said she would if he would “mend” and “if he would give over drinking.” [8]

After one rejection he briefly left Batley on 16 September and spent time in Harrogate then Ripon, where he purchased another bulldog-type revolver. He returned to Batley on 18 September and resumed his visits to Hirst Place, trying to persuade his estranged wife to come back. In one statement he said:

I kept begging her to change her mind, because I knew if she did not change her mind she would have to die for it… [9]

His final visit to Lizzie took place on Sunday 22 September. He arrived at around 1.15pm, whilst Lizzie was preparing dinner. Both Ellen and Lucy were in the room. He asked if she had been to church that morning, but she said not as she’d been too late.

Approaching 2pm, as Lizzie was snipping some parsley, he got up from his chair and moved towards her asking if she would lend him a shilling. It being Batley Feast time she too was short of money, having taken time off work to go to the jollities on the Saturday, Monday and Tuesday. As a consequence she had not finished the piece of cloth she was weaving (as a weaver she was paid by the piece).

Pat was now within an arms length of her. Saying “Get out Lizzie” he reached for his breast pocket, drew out the revolver and shot her once in the right temple. She fell to the ground at the feet of Ellen Nutton. She never spoke again.

British Bulldog Revolver – Wikimedia Commons, Creative Commons License CCO 1.0

In his police statement later that afternoon he claimed if she had given him the shilling he would have gone away.

Pat then put the gun to his mouth and, with trembling hands, pulled the trigger once more. Despite the revolver firing, for some inexplicable reason it missed him. The bullet was subsequently found to have hit the wall behind him.

By now Lucy was shouting the alarm and banging on the window. Fred Ashton, a young miner who lived at 8 Hirst Place and who had heard the crack of two shots, came to see what was going on. He apprehended Pat on the doorstep of the cottage and led him back inside. Pat calmly handed the revolver to Fred.

The police and the Batley police surgeon were quickly summoned. PC William Robinson, who lived only 120 yards away, was the first Batley policeman on the scene. He was the constable who dealt with the domestic dispute only two months earlier.

Police surgeon Herbert Keighley was unable to save Lizzie who died at around 2.30pm. As she lay dying Pat muttered “I am sorry. I hope her soul is in heaven” and “I have done it for love.” [10]

Ellen, described as a matronly-looking woman, claimed at his trial in December that she felt if he had held out for just a couple more days Lizzie would have returned to him. Her evidence, as outlined in the Judge’s notes in that final December trial, appeared to indicate he and Lizzie had “slept together” during his Hirst Place visits. The Judge wrote the word “cohabiting” in the margins. [11] Whether this is true, what is not in doubt is during those few days after Pat’s return to Batley in September 1895 they spent several hours together, both at Hirst Place and around Batley visiting friends – for example Bridget Cafferty’s home on Spa Street.

Lizzie Morley’s inquest took place before Coroner Thomas Taylor in the late afternoon of 23 September. It was held at the New Inn, a public house on nearby Purlwell Lane.

Her funeral followed on Wednesday 25 September, officiated by Rev. Father Charles Gordon of St Mary of the Angels R.C. Church.

A large crowd gathered at Hirst Place ready to accompany her body to the cemetery, doubtless eager to hear the latest gossip about the tragedy. Work colleagues carried the flower-covered polished pitch pine coffin with brass furnishings from the house to the hearse. The procession, headed by around a dozen weavers from her workplace, then wound its way through those gathered along the Purlwell Lane, Clerk Green and Cemetery Road route.

Chief mourners were Lizzie’s brother Joseph and his wife, her aunt and uncle James and Louisa Naylor (her mother’s sister), sister-in-law Emily Stratton and cousin Elizabeth Penny. Some reports estimated around two thousand witnessed the ceremony.

In the meantime Pat appeared before Batley Magistrates on 23 and 30 September. On both occasions large crowds gathered outside the Town Hall with townsfolk hoping to catch a glimpse of the prisoner as he was brought to court.

Interior of Batley Town Hall – Photo by Chris Roberts (edited by Jane Roberts)

The first hearing held in the small Committee Room meant only limited public access.

At the second hearing even bigger crowds gathered outside the building two hours before proceedings commenced. Even after the doors opened people continued to arrive, and the crowd swelled to such an extent during the course of the hearing that traffic was obstructed. At the end of this hearing Pat was formally charged with the wilful murder of his wife and committed to trial at the next Leeds Assizes.

His brother Tom was a frequent visitor to his brother in Wakefield Gaol, where Pat remained in good spirits and had not despaired of being saved from the gallows. Tom wrote to a number of Pat’s former employers to get character references for him. Responses included one from Major Gorman of Smeaton Manor, Northallerton and Mr R Routledge of Hick House, Northallerton. The latter reply was typical:

I am very much grieved to hear of the dreadful act your brother has committed. I cannot imagine but that he was either really drunk or insane at the time he did it. When working for me he was always so cheerful and pleasant. I am afraid that anything I can say would avail him very little…If you are not able to employ counsel the judge will, no doubt, order someone to defend him… [12]

Another ploy was to try to prove Pat was mentally unstable. When the case came before Mr Justice William Grantham at the Assizes held at Leeds Town Hall on 9 December, evidence was produced to this effect. It included a family history of insanity. Pat’s brother Tom said “he had not been right in his head these ten years” and his condition worsened after his marriage. Tom went on to say they had an aunt similarly afflicted. Their brother Michael had “not been square in the head” since birth; neither was their cousin Mary who emigrated to America. Bridget Rowan, their sister, who lived at Woodwell, Batley gave similar evidence as to Pat’s mental state. She mentioned her brother had stayed with her in the three nights prior to the death of Lizzie. Whilst here his state of mind deteriorated to the point that he was incessantly talking to himself. [13]

Justice Grantham by “Spy” (Leslie Ward) Published in Vanity Fair 15 March 1890 – Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain Image (Author Died in 1922)

The Judge sought the opinion of Berkeley Moynihan (spelled Barclay by the Judge), Armley Gaol surgeon, who rebuffed this. In his opinion he had ordinary control of his actions and was quite responsible for them. The Judge’s notations of the doctor’s evidence included:

He seemed to have ordinary memory and was quite like an ordinary individual. [14]

The jury was also unconvinced. After listening to evidence from a parade of other witnesses including Ellen Nutton, Lucy Cooper, Fred Ashton, Dr Herbert Keighley, Batley policemen PC William Robinson, Sergeant Smith Machell and PC William Craven, as well as Leeds City policemen involved in the 1894 Leeds domestic dispute, they found the prisoner guilty.

Pat now gave a long, disjointed statement in a strong Irish accent as follows:

I have your riverence, [sic] your lordship – I am here. No docther [sic] in Leeds to [sic] examine me. I am in a weak state of mind. Your riverence [sic] I hope you will give me a fair chance. I was more fit for the asylum at the time. I was away three weeks. She sold my home. I went away to Harrogate. I was drunk during the time. I had been sober for twelve months. I loved my wife. I did not want to shoot her. No, I was not the man. I told the doctor at Wakefield all the time I was there. I said my head was rising off me. I told the doctor in Armley Gaol that my head was bad, and it has been bad for a number of years, as my friends know. I hope you will give me a chance. I did not intend to shoot my wife. I only had this revolver to frighten her. She would not go back to live with me. I did not think the revolver would go off at the time. The revolver went. I thought I hadn’t it ready for going. I had no more mind to shoot her if I had to drop dead before ye gentleman. I am the wrongest. I am the innocentest man, though I did it. I have the best character of any man in the world. She sold my home. I went to Harrogate to take the waters. I was not drinking then. Gentlemen – your Lord, it is only a little revolver. I only did it to frighten her. [15]

The Judge, unmoved, donned his black cap, and passed a sentence of death. A woman in the gallery sobbed once, and Patrick Morley, staring blankly ahead, was hustled out of the court.

However, some did raise questions about the verdict, blaming the unprepared, inexperienced defence counsel. A piece in The Leeds Times of 14 December 1895 said Pat had:

…the appearance of mental derangement, of at least feebleness and abnormal stupidity, and I think there may be more in the statement of his having two near relations in Ireland insane than was disclosed…Patrick Morley may be an idiot or a brute or a combination of both, but he ought not be hanged if he is in a mental state that weakens his responsibility. I trust that full inquiry will be made into his history and into his condition of mind.

The Judge had no such concerns. His notes mention his belief that the prisoner displayed shrewdness. They also indicate one of the first questions Pat asked his Council was if he should pretend to be insane and what was the best way to do this. However, the Judge did request a post-trial medical report. Dated 17 December 1895, Henry Clarke – the doctor who had seen him regularly during his two-month sojourn at Wakefield Prison – stated that on his arrival there on 24 September there was no evidence of delusions or hallucinations. It was only on 1 October that he appeared dull, stupid and slow in answering questions. The following day he denied ever seeing the doctor previously, claimed he had never been married and could not answer even the simplest of questions. The doctor gave special instructions for his visits with family and friends to be monitored. In these he repeatedly spoke about his wife with regard to her ring and some property and suggested to his brother that he should get evidence as to some relative who had been in an asylum. Dr Clarke concluded:

In my opinion he was sane and responsible for his actions. I regarded his conduct under examination during the latter part of his stay here as assumed. [16]

The decision remained unchanged. Pat Morley, now in Armley Gaol, philosophically awaited his fate, the date for his hanging set for 31 December 1895. His penultimate letter to his brother Tom read:

My dear Brother, Sorry I am to write you this lonesome letter in my present state, and in the position in which I am placed as you perhaps have heard that I am to die in the last day of the year; and let ye all pray for me. I have the priest coming to see me every day. Dear Tom, if only I had taken your advice I should not be placed in the position I am. Poor Tom, you always advised me for the best, and I didn’t take it, but I thought, Tom, I would not come to this end. Dear brother Tom, I will tell you the truth now, I will. Poor Lizzie is now dead and in Heaven I hope, and the Lord have mercy on her soul, and I am here, as he know, waiting to die; I will tell you Lizzie has been the cause of all this. I am going to die for her now, Tom, and Lizzie has brought it all on me and to herself. I never intended to take her life. Dear Tom, I am very sorry for poor Lizzie. Let ye all pray for Lizzie, Tom. I did not think last Christmas I should be here this Christmas. Tom, if I had taken your advice I would not be here. My dear brother, I must now conclude with my kind love to you, Mary and family. May God bless you all, and let ye all pray for me, as ye know I shall soon be in another world, where there is no end, but everlasting life. Tom and Mary, I am bidding you all a long farewell. I am sending my kind love to Maggy and all the children, and I am leaving my blessing to all the friends and neighbours. Tom, don’t forget poor Pat. Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye. xxxxxxxxxx [17]

A few lines to his sister read:

You always told me to be kind to Lizzie, and I was good and kind to her, but she was bad to me and to herself. She was all the time trying to provoke me. I could tell you a lot of things she did to me, but I will tell you no more. All ye pray for Lizzie. [18]

And so the final day of 1895 dawned, with the chorus of sparrows chirruping from the eaves of houses near to Armley Gaol. It was unusually mild. It was the day 38-year-old Patrick Morley became the last man to be executed for a Batley murder.

Footnotes:

  1. Yorkshire Evening Post – 4 January 189
  2. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A5749
  3. According to the Batley police statements used at the trial and held at The National Archives (TNA). Interestingly his HMP Wakefield records state 5′ 4½”
  4. Leeds Times – 12 October 1895
  5. Ibid
  6. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Judge’s Notes of evidence of Thomas Morley, 9 December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  7. Huddersfield Daily Examiner, Inquest evidence of Ellen Nutton – 24 September 1895
  8. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Judge’s Notes of evidence of Ellen Nutton, 9 December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  9. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Patrick Morley’s statement to Sergt Machell and PC Craven at Batley Police Station, 22 September 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  10. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Various witness depositions and in Judge’s Notes. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  11. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Judge’s Notes of evidence of Ellen Nutton, 9 December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  12. Leeds Times – 26 October 1895
  13. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Judge’s Notes of evidence of Thomas Morley and Bridget Rowan, 9 December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  14. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Judge’s Notes of evidence of Berkeley Moynihan, 9 December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  15. Leeds Times – 14 December 1895
  16. Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Report of Henry Clarke, Medical Officer, Wakefield Prison, 17 December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  17. Yorkshire Evening Post – 4 January 1896
  18. Ibid

Sources:

  • West Yorkshire Prison Records, Wakefield Prison. Accessed via Ancestry.co.uk. Originals at West Yorkshire Archive Service, Wakefield, England, Reference C118/151
  • Leeds Assizes, Patrick Morley, December 1895. Originals at TNA, Reference HO 144/266/A57496
  • Bradford Daily Telegraph, 24 September 1895
  • Huddersfield Chronicle, 10 and 14 December 1895
  • Huddersfield Daily Examiner, 24 and 26 September 1895
  • Leeds Mercury, 10 and 28 December 1895,
  • Leeds Times, 28 September 1895, 5, 12 and 26 October 1895, 14 and 21 December 1895, 4 January 1896
  • Lincolnshire Chronicle, 27 September 1895
  • Yorkshire Evening Post, 4 January 1896
  • Yorkshire Herald, 1 October 1895
  • GRO Indexes
  • 1861 to 1911 Censuses

Cold Case: The Huddersfield Tub Murder

The young woman knelt head first in a sunken water tub, her black skirt ripped from top to bottom and strewn on the ground next to her. Coins and her hat lay nearby, along with a discarded Woodbine cigarette tab end.

This was the horrific discovery which met the eyes of 17-year-old teamer Henry Redfearn, when he turned up for work at 6am on Monday 15 February 1915. He ran for the police.

The yard in Brook Street, Huddersfield, where the body lay contained stables. It belonged to Messrs. John Beever and Sons, rug manufacturers. The tub was located between their premises and that of Henry’s employers Messrs. J.H. Wood and Son, wholesale fish merchants.  Containing 21 inches of water, the tub was used as a drinking station for teamers’ horses.  The woman had a large scalp wound and her arms were severely bruised, as if violently restrained. Her body was taken to the town’s Back Ramsden Street mortuary.

Carrie Jubb

Carrie Jubb, Illustrated Police News – 25 February 1915

The woman was subsequently identified as 32-year-old Carrie Jubb, a Dewsbury woman of no fixed abode. Her eldest sister, Margaret Ann Birch, of Boothroyd Lane, Dewsbury made the formal identification at the inquest on 17 February 1915. Carrie had at one time lived at Middle Road, Dewsbury, with her husband Herbert, a teamer. But they had separated several years ago, and Margaret had last seen her sister on 10 July 1914.  In recent times Carrie lived in Huddersfield, and her last known abode was a furnished room in Swallow Street.

She was also euphemistically described as a woman of “ill-repute”, well-known to police. Huddersfield Borough Police Constable James Hinchcliffe had last seen her at 9.10pm on Sunday night, alone in Byram Street. He watched her walk down St Peter’s Street, about 150 yards away from the enclosed Brook Street yard.  He carried on walking.

She suffered terrible injuries. In addition to the many bruises on her arms, her left arm was broken in a defence injury. She had facial injuries. Her front tooth was knocked out but still remained in her mouth. From the abrasions on her cheek, it appeared as if she had been dragged over a rough surface. Her right eye was bruised. Her right temple had a ragged, curved wound down to the bone, caused by a blow from a blunt instrument. Her skull showed evidence of several blows. There was no evidence of drowning – she was dead before entering the water. Dr Irving, who conducted the post-mortem, concluded she had died as a result of shock from the blows to her mouth, one to her right eye, one on the right ear, one behind the temple. These were caused by a combination of fist and blunt injury trauma. The inquest jury returned a verdict of:

“Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown”.

Carrie was born on 23 May 1882, the daughter of Dewsbury couple Tom and Ann Goodall (née Doyle). She was baptised on 30 July 1884 at St John the Evangelist, Dewsbury Moor. Tom, a cloth fuller, and Ann had married in the same church on 10 November 1866. Their eldest child, Timothy Goodall Doyle, was born in 1865 – prior to their marriage. Tom and Ann’s other children included William Newton (born in 1869), Margaret Ann (born in 1871), Tom (born in 1873), Henry (born 1877), Elizabeth (born 1880) and Ethel (born in 1884). The 1871-1891 censuses show the family residing at Thornton Street, Dewsbury.

However, the late 1890s proved a period of turmoil for Carrie and her siblings. Their mother died in 1897. Then, on 23 March 1898, 51-year-old Tom unexpectedly passed away. His death was subject to an inquest before Wakefield Coroner Thomas Taylor, held at the Brunswick Hotel, Dewsbury the following day. Tom’s widowed daughter Elizabeth gave evidence, stating her father came home from work at his normal time. He was talkative and cheerful, going out at around 7pm to the Reading Room. He came home about an hour later, complained of a pain in his chest, but ate his supper and retired to bed at his usual time of 9.30pm. Elizabeth woke up at around midnight after hearing a gurgling noise. Upon checking she discovered her father was dead. Carrie was woken up by a neighbour and informed of the news. A verdict of “Died suddenly from natural causes” was reached.

The 1901 census shows the teenage Carrie[1] lodging at the School Street home of Emma Carlton Selby. She married mill-hand Herbert Jubb on 6 October 1906 at St Saviour’s Church, Ravensthorpe. But it was no happy ending for Carrie. The marriage soon hit difficulties.

On 22 December 1908 she appeared in Dewsbury Borough Court in what the Batley News described as a ‘Sordid Tale from Dewsbury.’ I wonder if the same heading featured in its Dewsbury newspaper counterpart, or was this a Batley dig at the neighbouring town? John Balmford, (who we later learn used a number of names, most usually Bamford which for consistency is the version I will use) a Dewsbury labourer, was charged with assaulting her and knowingly living on the earnings of Jubb, “a woman of immoral life”.

The case described how she had lived with Bamford for 14 months in furnished rooms at Middle Road, in the Daw Green area of town. He was no stranger to the law, having 20 convictions against him. Carrie too was well known to the local police, and only two months previously she received a fine for an offence against public morals. The police warned Bamford as recently as October about the consequences of his liaison with Carrie. During this 14 month period Bamford worked for only eight weeks. Carrie led, in her own words, “a dog’s life”. Every night he sent her out on the streets of Dewsbury.  She earned around 17s 6d a week which Bamford forced her to hand over to him. On the 19 December she refused to go out. He responded by hitting and kicking her about the head and face.

Bamford denied it all. He said he kept her like a lady, and she did not want him to leave her because she was afraid her husband might “kick her to death”. During the hearing an Irish woman called Ellen O’Donnell stood up in the gallery, shouting that Carrie “was swearing the defendant’s life away.

She was hauled to the witness box where it transpired that Bamford was her son-in-law. Ellen clearly did not hold his relationship with Carrie against him, speaking up in his defence. She felt Bamford had no-one to look after him, and he was knocked about from place to place. One of the more startling pieces of information to emerge was the revelation from the prosecution that Ellen’s daughter had 14 convictions for prostitution.

Bamford was convicted and given consecutive jail sentences of one month for the assault and three months for living on the earnings of prostitution. As he was led away from court to HMP Wakefield he insolently wished the magistrates a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

So, what of John Bamford? I have traced his criminal record up to this point via the HMP Wakefield Nominal Registers of Prisoners and the West Riding Calendars of Prisoners. It is not straightforward as John William Bamford, to give him his full name, was very much a man trying to cover his tracks. The table below shows the convictions and cases I’ve found to date which definitely involved him. There are some others I’ve not included as the evidence of his involvement is inconclusive.img_4573

Names used include Jack and John Smith, as well as variations of Bamford. He was born in around 1877, but the birth places range from Hull, to Oldham and Glossop. The first conviction states Denton, Manchester; the location of courts includes Sheffield, where his appearances start, to Dewsbury, Halifax, Bradford, Leeds and Wakefield. His occupation is usually a labourer. And he is around 5’ 5½” with brown hair.

Some of the cases are amusing. For example, the 6 July 1895 Sheffield cigar stealing case, also involved the stealing of a box of chocolates and several pounds of Pontefract Cakes from Mrs Caroline Martin’s Harvest Lane shop. Bamford undertook this criminal masterclass in conjunction with William Clover. PC Brown and PC Cochrane discovered the break-in and followed the trail of Pontefract Cakes from Apple Street to Clover’s address in Stancer Street where the policemen discovered the pair had burned most of the liquorice sweets!

On other occasions, some sympathy is expressed for the fledgling criminal, namely the Sheffield boot stealing offence of 17 December 1896. The Sheffield Independent lay some blame literally at the doorstep of the owner of Capper’s Boot Shop on Infirmary Road, for hanging the said boots temptingly in the shop doorway. Bamford did not escape with the boots, yet received 42 days hard labour. The paper described him as the victim.

Other incidents were downright nasty. These included the robbery with violence case at Wakefield on 12 March 1902. Here Bamford, along with three other men, threw James Mitchell of Hardy Croft to the ground and stole his watch and chain, selling it for 4s 6d.

One particularly brutish charge ended up at the West Riding Quarter Sessions in July 1906. Using the false name of John Smith, Bamford was charged with unlawfully and maliciously wounding John Kelly at Halifax on 1 May. By this stage, under his alias, Bamford lived at Pump Street in the town and habitually carried a knife. He worked now as a mechanic’s labourer. Following a drinking session argument, which also involved Bamford’s wife, Kelly received a stab wound to the neck. At the Quarter Sessions Kelly admitted he was to blame and the stabbing was a pure accident. Bamford was discharged. He must have returned to Dewsbury shortly after this, and taken up with Carrie Jubb.

Dewsbury was the town in which he married Margaret O’Donnell on 25 May 1901, at the Parish Church of All Saints. The marriage entry gives his father’s name as George Bamford (deceased). I’ve yet to conclusively trace the Bamford family in the 1881 and 1891 censuses. It appears by the mid-1890s he was not with his family – press coverage at the start of his crime spree only mention he was in lodgings. So perhaps in a way Ellen O’Donnell was correct when she said he’d no-one to look after him. In 1901 Bamford was in prison. Where Margaret was whilst her husband was with Carrie is not clear. And, so far, there is no trace of the pair in the 1911 census.

After the December 1908 case, it appears Carrie temporarily returned to her husband Herbert. But it seems she merely swapped one pimp for another. Dewsbury Borough Justices heard another case involving Carrie on 10 September 1910. The headlines in the 17 September 1910 summed it up:

“Dewsbury Loafer’s Disgusting Offence: Living on Wife’s Immoral Earnings”

Swap the defendant, it was almost an exact reprise of the case two years earlier. She was still living at Middle Road, Daw Green. Herbert scarcely had regular employment – the one main exception to his idleness being whilst Carrie was in the Workhouse Infirmary. As soon as she was better, he gave that job up.

On 3 July 1910 police cautioned Carrie and her husband, who was aiding her in prostitution. It turned out this was just one of several cautions to the couple. The police now had them firmly under observation, and presented a catalogue of evidence in the September court case. Carrie plied her trade around the Crackenedge Lane, Great Northern Hotel and covered market area of town – her husband keeping look-out. Other locations in the vicinity mentioned at court included Corporation Street, Wood Street and the Market Place.

Dewsbury

Dewsbury OS Map, Published 1908 – Showing where Carrie and Herbert lived (1) and the area in which they operated in July 1910

Although optional, Carrie chose to give evidence against her husband, weeping bitterly throughout. She claimed that Herbert was “no good to me,” did not give her sufficient money for food and asked her to go on the streets. She felt obliged to comply in order to provide for them. Herbert in contrast denied this, stating he had tried to persuade Carrie to lead a different life. The Justices believed otherwise, and jailed Herbert for three months.

Carrie did not mend her ways and she too found herself locked up in Armley jail in 1911. Fast-forward to Huddersfield that fateful Valentine’s Day of February 1915.

Two men were detained in connection with her murder: a man with whom she had recently been living with; and a previous “friend” who was subsequently released. More of him in due course.

On 12 March 1915 William Nicholson, a 22-year-old rope-maker with whom Carrie lived in the weeks prior to her death, was brought before the Huddersfield Borough Police Court charged with wilful murder, and stealing a woman’s purse containing a small amount of money. No evidence was presented on the latter charge.

The prosecution admitted no eye-witnesses to the murder existed, and all the evidence against Nicholson was circumstantial. The motive given for it was jealousy: the man with whom Carrie lived up until November 1914 had returned to Huddersfield. That man was none other than a John William Bamford. The newspaper reports refer to him as Bamforth and Bamford, often within the same article, again pointing to the confusion around his name. He was also now using the name “Carroll”, so more confusion thrown into the mix. Was this the John Bamford of her Dewsbury days? If not, it seems a huge coincidence.

On the evening of her death Carrie and Nicholson left the Ship Inn on Ramsden Street at 8.10pm, moving on to the Ring o’ Bells on Northgate. William Thomas Tarbox, the license holder, said Carrie asked him whether he knew that “her Jack” had come back. Tarbox knew that “Jack” and Carrie had previously lived together, and he had since enlisted.  Carrie and Nicholson told Tarbox that they had spent the previous Friday evening with “Jack”, and Carrie said “Jack was all right with us”.

The two left the Ring o’ Bells at around 9pm and separated, with Carrie saying she was going to get something to [pay] for their lodgings, which Nicholson claimed he was unhappy about. Carrie was now alone. Nicholson stated he returned to try to find her, but was unsuccessful. At around 9.30pm another witness, Sophie Archer, saw her standing against the doorway of the Ring o’ Bells with a tall dark man wearing a Macintosh and soft hat – but it was neither Nicholson or Bamford (who she knew as Carroll). He was, in fact, brought into court for Mrs Archer to see and eliminate. Eunice Bailey, another witness, whose Fountain Street house overlooked the Brook Street stable yard, said she heard a young girl scream at about 9.30pm.

Nicholson unexpectedly arrived at his lodging house alone at around 10.45pm that night, in an agitated state. He and Carrie had earlier indicated they were moving onto another lodging house in town. He explained his change of heart, saying

“I am cold with being out looking for little Carrie, and I came here thinking she might be here. I have been all over looking for little Carrie.”

He claimed he found the purse, which belonged to a Mrs Ramsden, on the ground near the Post Office whilst seeking her.

One of the final witnesses to take the stand appeared in khaki. It was John William Bamford, a Private with the Duke of Wellington’s Regiment. He confirmed he lived with Carrie until November 1914 when he was locked up for desertion. He returned to Huddersfield on 3 February 1915, following his release from hospital. He was back in Huddersfield from his Halifax Barracks on Friday 12 February and spent between then and 15 February drinking. On 14 February he left the Saracen’s Head at about 8.40pm and went to a friend’s house, where he slept on a sofa. In evidence which appeared to contradict that given by the Ring o’ Bells licensee, he claimed to have only seen Nicholson for the first time on the morning of 15 February, when the rope-maker accosted him asking “Are you Jack?”. He responded in the affirmative, and Nicholson said “I am the man who lives with Carrie”. He claimed not to know of Carrie’s death until after that conversation, when he was in the Ship Inn. Bamford was ruled out of enquiries because he could account for his movements. He also did not match the description of the tall, dark man.

Brook Street

Huddersfield OS Map – Published 1908, showing rough locations of key areas on 14 February. 1 = Saracen’s Head, 2= Ship Inn, 3 = Ring o’ Bells, 4 = Sighting of Carrie by PC Hinchcliffe, 5 = Location of Carrie’s Body

After considering all the evidence the magistrates decided it was insufficient to commit Nicholson to trial at the Assizes. He was discharged.

So, what became of John William Bamford? Well it appears likely he died on or around the 28 September 1916 during the Battle of the Somme, when he went missing.

Soldiers Died in the Great War records the death of a Pte John Bamford of the 1st/5th Battalion Prince of Wales’s Own (West Yorkshire Regiment) who lived in Dewsbury and enlisted in Huddersfield. No place of birth is recorded. The Medal Index Card indicates he initially served with the Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding Regiment) – which links with the Regiment of the John Bamford who appeared as a witness at Huddersfield Police Court. His service number with them, according to the Medal Index Card details, was 12653.

The 1915/15 Star Roll indicates he was with the 2nd Battalion of the Duke of Wellington’s and that he went out to France on 5 December 1914. So, did he return to be admitted to hospital shortly afterwards? Nothing shows on the Forces War Records Military Hospitals Admissions and Discharge Registers, although admittedly that is only a small proportion of such records. No service papers for him survive.

In his time with the West Yorkshire Regiment he held three more service numbers recorded on his Medal Index Card – 22769, 5539 and 203144. It is this latter one under which his death is recorded. There is a John Bamford on the Dewsbury War Memorial – but his service number does not tie in with any of those provided on the Medal Index Card. John Bamford has no known grave and is commemorated on the Thiepval Memorial. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission records no family details on their database. However, the Soldiers Effects Register entry show his widow and sole legatee was called Margaret. And in this register, in addition to his service number 203144, there is the service number 6514 – which ties into the Dewsbury War Memorial one.

So right to the end John Bamford remained a man of mystery.

There was one final curious twist to the tale. In November 1917 the press countrywide contained one small snippet of news, tucked away in various newspaper columns: a murder confession to police in Derbyshire. A soldier, named Richardson, had owned up to the killing of Carrie Jubb. Huddersfield Police were in touch with their Derby counterparts and, if the confession proved genuine, the aim was to bring the man before the local magistrates within days. Nothing resulted from it, and the murder of Carrie Jubb remains unsolved.

Sources:

  • Baptism Register, All Saints, Dewsbury – West Yorkshire Archives Ref WDP9/13, via Ancestry.co.uk;
  • Baptism Register, St John the Evangelist, Dewsbury Moor – West Yorkshire Archives Ref WDP174/1/2/3, via Ancestry.co.uk;
  • Batley News – 24 December 1908, 17 September 1910 and 20 February 1915;
  • Batley Reporter – 24 December 1908 and 16 September 1910;
  • Bradford Daily Telegraph – 2 May and 3 July 1906;
  • British Army WWI Medal Rolls Index Cards, 1914-1920 – via Ancestry;
  • Censuses (England) – 1871-1891;
  • Commonwealth War Graves Commission Database;
  • GRO Indexes;
  • Huddersfield Daily Examiner – 15 February 1915, 17 February 1915, 12 March 1915 and 6 November 1917;
  • HMP Wakefield Nominal Registers of Prisoners – West Yorkshire Archives via Ancestry
  • Illustrated Police News – 25 February 1915;
  • Leeds Mercury – 6 March 1902, 10 May 1906;
  • Marriage Register, All Saints, Dewsbury – West Yorkshire Archives Ref WDP9/42 via Ancestry.co.uk;
  • Marriage Register, St John the Evangelist, Dewsbury Moor – West Yorkshire Archives Ref WDP147/1/3/1, via Ancestry.co.uk;
  • Marriage Register, St Saviour’s, Ravensthorpe – West Yorkshire Archives Ref WDP166/9 via Ancestry.co.uk;
  • National Library of Scotland Maps
  • Sheffield Daily Telegraph – 8 July 1895 and 13 March 1902;
  • Sheffield Independent – 18 December 1896;
  • Soldiers Died in the Great War – via FindMyPast;
  • UK, Army Registers of Soldiers’ Effects, 1901-1929 – via Ancestry;
  • West Riding Calendars of Prisoners Tried at The Midsummer Quarter Sessions of the Peace at the Court House, Bradford on Monday 2 July 1906 – West Yorkshire Archives via Ancestry;
  • Yorkshire, England, Wakefield Charities Coroners Notebooks, 1852-1909 (Thomas Taylor) – West Yorkshire Archives Ref C493/K/2/1/208 via Ancestry;
  • WWI Service Medal and Award Rolls; Class: WO 329; Piece Number: 2658 – via Ancestry.

[1] Listed as Caroline, with the age of 17 slightly lower than actuality.

Mother-in-Law Murderer – Unlucky Friday 13th

Friday 13 June 1794 proved an unfortunate day for both mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. Both ultimately paid with their lives. One suffered a slow, agonising death. The other’s head was subsequently placed in a noose. Mary and Ann Scalberd are names long since forgotten, but in the summer of 1794 they must have been the talk of Batley and Dewsbury, if not Yorkshire.

The unusual name “Scalberd” has a number of spelling variations in the records, including Scalbird, Scalbirt and Scalbert. But, to avoid confusion, I will stick with “Scalberd”.

On 6 April 1760 Benjamin Scalberd, from Batley, married Mary Milnes at Dewsbury Parish Church. It appears clothier Benjamin and Mary had four children – John baptised on 16 January 1761, Mary on 21 March 1762 and Moses on 7 October 1764; there is also a burial for a second daughter, Sarah, on 4 May 1772, but I have not traced her baptism. All these events took place at Batley Parish Church. The same church hosted the marriage on 22 January 1787 of their son Moses to Nancy Oldroyd, daughter of Joseph Oldroyd. Like his father, Moses worked as a clothier.

Seven years later his wife faced accusations of murdering his mother.

Batley Parish Church – by Jane Roberts

Coroner Richard Linnecar heard evidence of the circumstances surrounding Mary’s death at the Batley Carr inquest on 21 June 1794. Witnesses included Mary’s son John and unmarried daughter Mary, along with Sarah Newsham, two surgeons and two employees of a third surgeon. Although none of the witnesses actually saw the incident, the dying woman told several of them what occurred.

Witnesses stated Mary Scalberd was very well on the morning of 13 June. That afternoon Ann, known to the family as Nance, begged Mary to come to her house to look after her children whilst she went out on an errand. Batley parish church records show the baptism of one child to Moses and Ann, a daughter Sally, born on 23 May 1793. However the statements imply the couple had at least one other child.

When Ann returned from her outing she insisted Mary eat some warm milk and sops she had prepared for the children. Initially Mary refused, saying the children needed it more. Ann continued to press her until eventually Mary gave in. When she reached the bottom of the pot containing the concoction she noticed a gritty substance. Challenged by Mary as to what it was, Ann claimed perhaps some lime had fallen into the container. One witness, John, stated his mother told him when she accused Ann of poisoning her, Ann left the room without uttering a word.

Within half an hour of having the milk Mary was taken ill. Her daughter, who lived in Batley Carr, and confusingly also called Mary, told the inquest she saw her mother later that afternoon by which time her now swollen body was wracked by violent bouts of sickness and diarrhoea. Her mother accused Ann of poisoning her. Mary stayed with her throughout these final agonising days, during which her mother suffered “the utmost misery and pain”.

The horror of her decline is unimaginable, both for Mary and those witnessing the scene. No indoor flushing toilets, plentiful clean water and disinfectants. Instead sparsely furnished, basic houses with few rooms and comforts, possibly not even a bed per person. And all the time unremitting episodes of vomiting and diarrhoea, with no treatment other than possibly pain relief.

Other visitors to the sickbed included Sarah Newsham, a married woman from Batley Carr. According to her, the rapidly declining Mary “constantly said that Nance Scalberd had poisoned her and if she died at that time she ought to be hanged”.

Son John Scalberd, residing in the Chapel Fold area of Batley, gave similar evidence. He saw his seriously ill mother on 15 June and her condition, combined with her allegations, caused him so much concern he immediately sent for a Dewsbury surgeon, George Swinton. The circumstances and her symptoms, including the uncontrollable vomiting and diarrhoea, led the experienced doctor to suspect ingestion of arsenic.

Arsenic was cheap and readily available during this period. Used around the house for vermin control, it was also popular with those owning sheep as a sheep scab treatment. In the 18th century this involved applying hand washes containing lime, mercury, nicotine, turpentine or arsenic. As a poison, it resulted in an excruciating death over a number of days. The symptoms included fluid accumulation, nausea, constant vomiting, diarrhoea which was often blood-streaked, excessive thirst, a feeling of pressure and swelling in the stomach, intense pain and distressingly, up until the end stages, the victim remained lucid. However many of these symptoms could equally apply to common illnesses such as English cholera, dysentery and diarrhoea. This, combined with the lack of a definitive test and rudimentary medical expertise about poisoning, resulted in only a small number of trials and convictions in this period.

The doctor was unable to do anything to save Mary. She endured agonising suffering for six days, before she finally died on 19 June. However, his suspicions meant he referred the case. Another eminent local surgeon was sent for, Benjamin Sykes of Gomersal. Both he and Dr Swinton opened up Mary for the inquest on 21 June. They concluded her death was the result of arsenic.

Collection: Wellcome Images Library reference no.: Science Museum A600213 Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

The final two inquest witnesses worked in the shop of Dewsbury surgeon Robert Rockley Batty. They claimed that on, or just before 13 June, Ann Scalberd attempted to buy a penny-worth of white mercury (the name by which arsenic was known in Yorkshire) from the surgeon’s assistant, Henry Hudson. She claimed she wanted it for sheep. Hudson explained that they never sold it. His evidence was backed up by Peter Cannings, a book-keeper for the surgeon. Was this the errand Ann did whilst her mother-in-law looked after the children? To buy the poison with which to commit murder.

Mary was buried the day after the inquest, on 22 June, at Batley Parish Church. As a result of the inquest Ann Scalberd was committed to York Castle, charged with the wilful murder of Mary Scalberd. She would appear at the York Summer Assizes at the beginning of August. They took place in front of Sir Giles Rooke and Sir Soulden Lawrence.

Ann’s trial contained a very curious incident, subsequently cited in case law. During examination of one of the first witnesses a juror, Thomas Davison, fell down in a fit. The trial was halted and the juror carried off to a public house to recover. He failed to return and eventually another juror, accompanied by a bailiff, were dispatched to enquire as to his health. The juror duly reported back. Mr Davison would not be well enough to continue. Justice Lawrence discharged the jury and ordered the swearing in of another. This comprised the initial 11 well jurors plus another. The trial continued.

In the face of overwhelming evidence, including that Ann visited several shops attempting to procure the poison, the jury had no hesitation in delivering a guilty verdict to an impassive Ann. She was sentenced to death.

A second trial twist then occurred. Ann “pleaded the belly”. In other words she declared she was pregnant, knowing this could be a chance to evade the death penalty. The authorities would not execute a pregnant woman, as this would take an innocent life. If a woman was deemed “quick with child”, that is the foetus could be felt to move which was deemed the point when the unborn child had a soul, the execution would be delayed till after birth. Inevitably this meant it would not take place at all, the sentence probably commuted to imprisonment.

In order to establish the validity of this, a jury of matrons was convened. It comprised 12 older women, pulled together from those within the court room, with experience of pregnancy. They adjourned to a private room to conduct the examination.

Ann’s last-minute ploy failed. The women reported back – Ann was not pregnant.  She would face the death penalty. One newspaper, the “Leeds Intelligencer” stated she now confessed her guilt. However the motive for murder remains shrouded in mystery.

Between 1735-1799, 703 death sentences were passed at York Assizes, resulting in 217 executions. Ann’s execution took place on 12 August 1794 at Tyburn, south of the city and the Knavesmire area which now forms part of York racecourse. This is the spot where highwayman Dick Turpin met the same fate in 1739. Ann was one of only three people hung there in 1794, and her execution is a rare occurrence of a woman receiving the death penalty. Her body was given to surgeons for dissection. Her husband Moses died within months and was buried on 7 December 1794 at Batley.

Site of York Gallows – Jeremy Howat. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.

This is my final post about Batley in my March focus on local history.

Sources:  

  • The National Archives, Northern & North-Eastern Assize Papers, Reference ASSI 45/38/2/84B-84C – Ann Scalbird (Depositions) – Thanks to Carole Steers
  • Batley All Saints Parish Registers
  • Dewsbury All Saints Parish Registers
  • Newspapers via the British Newspaper Archive, FindMyPast – Bury & Norwich Post 6 August 1794, Derby Mercury 14 & 21 August 1794, Kentish Weekly Post & Canterbury Journal 17 August 1794 and Leeds Intelligencer 30 June & 18 August 1794
  • Poisoned Lives – Katherine Watson
  • Capital Punishment UK – http://www.capitalpunishmentuk.org/
  • British Executions – http://www.britishexecutions.co.uk/
  • The New and Complete Newgate Calendar: Or Villany Displayed in All its Branches, Vol 6
  • Cases in Crown Law, Vol 2 (1815)
  • A Short History of Sheep Scab – J D Bezuidenhout
  • Wellcome Images, Library reference no.: Science Museum A600213, Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
  • Wikimedia Commons – site of York Gallows by Jeremy Howat

Pigeon-Stealing in Batley

An entry dated 13 March 1908 in the Batley Borough Court records attracted my attention. On that day two 13-year-old boys and another aged 12 appeared before the Town Hall Magistrates charged with pigeon-stealing. They stood accused of taking four dark, dappled birds on 8 March from Back Cross Park Street.

image

Batley Town Hall – Photo by Jane Roberts

Juvenile crime was not uncommon in the Court listings. But two things attracted me to this one:

  • The sentencing notes were slightly unusual; and
  • I recognised the names of all three lads.

The Court Register entry combined with the newspaper report build up a fuller picture. It should be noted that the newspaper is, in some crucial areas, at variance with the Court record. The name of one of the lads is slightly different. And the ages are given as 12, 13 and 14.

The birds belonged to miner Robert Dewhirst. They were housed in a cote containing 15 pigeons. Robert locked it at around 5pm on Sunday teatime. When he checked it at around 5am the following morning he found the door swinging open, the padlock discarded on the floor and four birds missing. They had an estimated value of £2 according to the Court notes.

Later that day the birds were recovered. They were in the possession of Robert Clarkson, a Commercial Street fish and game dealer. He said he told the boys the pigeons were old and not worth more 6d. He also claimed to have told them to fetch the owner and he would pay for them. The boys never returned. The Court Register and papers are silent about any charges preferred against Robert, so it seems there were none.

The three youths, a school boy, errand boy and pony driver, were not so fortunate. Two pleaded guilty to the charge; the other put in a “not guilty” plea.  Despite this he was convicted of the crime, along with his two friends.

This is where the sentencing twist came into play. They were discharged on entering recognizances for 12 months. They were instructed as to their good behaviour during this time. During this period they were to be under the supervision of Mr Gladwin, the probation officer. He was to visit them and submit regular reports to the magistrates about their conduct. Alongside this a 20s surety applied.

The noteworthy facet of the sentencing: this was the first ever case for the local probation officer.

Pigeon Stealing

Newspaper Headline

This new service owed its origins in 1876 to Hertfordshire printer Frederic Rainer, a volunteer with the Church of England Temperance Society (CETS). Initially London-based, it worked with magistrates via the London Police Courts Mission (LPCM) to release offenders on condition they kept in touch and accepted guidance from the “missionaries”.  The system was extended countrywide with the 1886 Probation of First Time Offenders Act. With an emphasis on religious mission and temperance, this Act allowed courts to appoint similar missionaries if they wanted to. Few chose to do so.

The 1907 Probation of Offenders Act gave these missionaries official status as “officers of the court”.  Furthermore it was now possible for courts to appoint probation officers paid for by the local authority.  The Act allowed courts to suspend punishment and discharge offenders who entered into a recognisance of between one and three years. As part of the conditions of this suspension, the offender agreed to be supervised by a “probation officer”.

Durham-born James Gladwin was Batley’s Probation Officer. He had held the Town Missionary post for a number of years, being recorded as such from the 1901 census onwards[1]. However the three Batley lads, all from St Mary’s parish, were his first cases following the 1907 Probation Act.

The sentence was partially effective. Two of the lads did indeed steer clear of further trouble. Sadly, the youngest failed to do so. He appeared once more before the Magistrates on 7 December 1908. This time he was charged with stealing a pair of men’s moleskin trousers, valued at 2s 6d from Joseph Bennett’s Commercial Street pawnshop on 5 December. Bennett took the precaution of ticketing his shop contents. The lad failed to notice this. So when he then attempted to pawn them at another shop on Wellington Street, Bennett’s mark was recognised and the boy apprehended.

This was around nine months after the pigeon-stealing incident, which as a result now came into play. Mr Gladwin, his Probation Officer, gave his character opinion of the lad. He was sorry, but not surprised, to see him in trouble again. He was always on “the edge of it”, always promising to do better. Police Inspector Wright said the lad was a bad influence on the other boys in town. Despite pleadings from his father, he was now convicted of both the trouser and pigeon-stealing offences. To save him from a life of trouble he was sentenced to five years in a Reformatory.

The Reformatory system was established in 1854 for under-16s convicted of crime. With concern about the way children were treated in the criminal system, the Philanthropic Society was at the forefront of this change to the criminal system. Children sent to Reformatory schools spent between two to five years there. However, until 1899, those committed to such establishments still spent 14 days in an adult prison first. This was thankfully no longer the case by the time of this lad’s sentence.

As a Catholic he was sent to serve out his sentence at St William’s School for Training Catholic Boys, situated at Holme upon Spalding Moor, near Market Weighton in the East Riding. Founded in 1856 as the Yorkshire Catholic Reform School, this was in a remote, rural location. The work the boys undertook reflected its countryside locality, with a large proportion dividing their time between studies and farm labouring. Other trades included shoemakers, bricklayers, printers, tailors, bookbinders, laundry and horse boys.

At the time he entered the Reformatory, it was headed by Rev Charles Ottaway who took over in 1906. It was Father Ottaway who instigated the name-change to St William’s. He was still in charge in the 1911 census, where the boy is shown as an inmate dividing his time between schooling and working as a farm boy labourer.

Under Father Ottaway’s regime the boys wore a uniform of plain cord knickers and a tweed coat. However despite the uniform and name-change, the Reformatory under his tenure was noted for its poor discipline and too frequent punishments, as noted in highly critical inspection reports. The covering letter to a December 1911 inspection said:

Father Ottaway overloaded, boys have insufficient food, overwork and lack of recreation, stunted in growth and underweight, approved dietary scale not adhered to and substitutes inadequate, punishments not accurately recorded, carelessness, cells unfit for use…..

Another report in May 1912 by Brigdier Mark Sykes M.P., a member of the Reformatory Committtee, noted amongst other things improper cleaning; ill-shod boys in ragged, disreputable clothing; an unvaried, disgusting diet; too frequent and too trivial punishments; inadequate fire-safety and escape provisions and damnning indictments on various staff members. His report ended:

I consider that with the exception of Mr Hart it would be best to discharge the whole of the present staff and start afresh“.

In short the entire establishment lacked go and discipline. 

The declining numbers of boys being admitted during Father Ottaway’s tenure was a probable reflection of the lack of  care, schooling, work-training  and basic facilities such as toilets and washing on offer there. Nevertheless Batley Borough Court continued to use it for its “wayward” Catholic boys, including two sent there in March 1912 for stealing a box of biscuits. And Father Ottaway remained in charge until the summer of 1912.

Back to the pigeon and trouser-stealing boy though. The lad’s father had a maintenance order of 2s a week imposed by the Court, in order to provide for his son’s upkeep in this establishment. Parents had to contribute towards the costs, and this was means-tested based on the family income. As the newspaper noted the family had £2 10s coming into the household each week.

East Riding Archives hold extensive records for this particular Reformatory, including admission registers, report books and medical registers.[2] So well worth a visit for those with ancestors who spent time there, either working or as inmates.

At the beginning of this post I mentioned I recognised the names of all three lads charged with pigeon-stealing[3].  They are all connected with my parish church. And all three lads were dead just over eight years following the pigeon incident. All lost their lives in the Great War: One in 1914, the other 1915 and the final one in 1916. They are all on the church War Memorial.

I have deliberately not named any of the boys involved.

Sources:

[1] In 1891 his occupation was given as “home missionary”
[2] East Riding Archives Finding Reference DDSW, St William’s Community Home
[3] I have taken the Court Register names to be the correct ones. As I mentioned earlier in the post, the only newspaper report for this incident had a different Christian name and slightly different surname for one of the boys. However checking baptisms, births and censuses there is no-one matching the newspaper name.

“You’ve a Mother and a Father. That’s All You Need to Know” – Batley Borough Court Records: Part 3

I thought long and hard before writing this post, the third in my Batley Borough Court paternity proof series. The reason for the deliberation is it concerns family information not discussed for years, if at all in living memory. “You’ve a mother and a father. That’s all you need to know” is a phrase that springs to mind. But I wanted to know more than that. So on and off I ferreted away at records.

The deciding factors for me in going ahead in writing this are:

  • it relates to my family history;
  • those directly affected are no longer alive. Neither are immediate subsequent generations;
  • the events took place over 100 years ago;
  • the information is publicly available;
  • when researching my family history I want to be even-handed with all aspects, the good and the not so good; and
  • this post may give an indication of some of the sources that are available when looking into the issue of tracing fathers of illegitimate ancestors.

I was elated with the find. Here the Batley Borough Court records have solved one of my long-standing family mysteries, as outlined in an earlier post about Parish Registers. It relates to the paternity of my great grandmother Bridget Gavan’s second child, a daughter, born on 28 August 1893.

The parish priest at St Mary of the Angels, Batley, at the time of the child’s baptism the following month believed Bridget to be married. The baptismal entry in the parish register is under the name “Regan” and Bridget’s husband is named as Charles Regan. The only problem: Bridget was not married. So proof you cannot always take what is written in parish registers as 100% accurate.

A later priest realised the error. When the girl’s marriage took place, some decades later, he noted against her baptismal entry that she married under the name Gavin [sic]. Yes the priests were meticulous in the practice of annotating baptismal entries with later marriage details!

But, although the baptismal entry gave a potential lead into the child’s father, I could not definitively identify Charles Regan. Not until a search of the Batley Borough Court register.

On 5 February 1894 Bridget Gavan was the complainant in a bastardy case heard at Batley Town Hall against Charles Ragan (note the subtle spelling difference here). Charles was ordered to pay 3/ a week until the unnamed child reached the age of 13. As well as court costs he also had to pay birth expenses of £1:1:0. So this provides corroboration of the baptismal paternity information.

Charles Ragan features a further eight times in the Borough Court Register between 1894-1907[1]. Three of these relate to police charges of drunk and riotous behaviour in various areas of Batley. The other five are cases brought by Bridget for bastardy arrears. Full details are at Table 1.Charles Ragan BBC

It can be seen from the entries that Bridget gave Charles time to pay on two occasions. Some of the bastardy cases took place after Bridget’s marriage in November 1897. And some of the adjudications around the bastardy arrears involved straight custodial sentences, without the option of paying a fine.

This then led me to the collection of West Yorkshire Archives Prison Records on Ancestry.

Bingo! I was astounded to find 20 entries in the Wakefield Prison Records Nominal Registers relating to Charles for appearances before West Riding Courts at Wakefield and Dewsbury as well as Batley. They relate to the various bastardy cases heard at Batley, outlined above, as well as charges in all areas for drunkenness and non-payment of costs.

Wakefield Prison

Wakefield Prison Image from around 1916 shared by David Studdard on the Maggie Blanck Website – see Sources

It appears that even where Charles had the option of paying a fine he chose not to do so, or perhaps simply could not afford to, and the alternative custodial sentence was enforced.  This includes one of the instances where Bridget had allowed extra time: Hence the large numbers of entries for him in the Wakefield prison register.

For my research purposes these entries provide a basic description of Charles, his age, religion, occupation, education level and, crucially, a birthplace. Although the records are not consistent, particularly around education levels which range from “imperfect” to “read and write” through to Standards I-III[2], they give a general picture.

Charles was around 5’5” tall, with brown hair, had only a very basic level of education and his employment varied from colliery worker to miner to labourer, so manual work. His birthplace was given as Leeds and further narrowed in some of the register entries to the Beeston/Holbeck area.  And his date of birth was somewhere between 1869-1876. Despite the variations, they clearly all relate to the same man given the detail provided including the previous custodial reference number.

The entries are summarised in Tables 2a and 2bCharles Ragan 2a

Charles Ragan 2bLooking at the censuses with this fresh information, Charles Joseph Ragan, to give him his full name, was born in Holbeck in 1869. He was the son of Irish-born coal miner John Ragan and his wife Sarah Norfolk, a local girl from Hunslet. The couple married in 1866 and by the time of the 1871 census the family was recorded living in Holbeck. Besides Charles other children included six year-old Hannah Norfolk, three year-old Thomas and infant daughter Sarah.

The 1881 census reveals further siblings of Charles: George, age eight; six year-old John; Arthur, four; and Elizabeth, two. By this time Charles had employment as a dray-boy.

1891 shows a move to East Ardsley and two further additions John and Sarah’s family – Alice born in around 1882 and Walter in 1884. Charles now worked as a coal miner, like his father.

The work opportunities in the relatively new pits in East Ardsley probably initiated the move from the Leeds area. The town’s extensive collieries were owned by Robert Holliday and Sons, with East Ardsley Colliery being known as Holliday’s Pit. They started to sink two shafts here in 1872, on land leased from the Cardigan estate. A third shaft was sunk in 1877. By 1881 in excess of 300 East Ardsley men were employed in mining. In 1899 the colliery produced 200,000 tons annually, making it the 11th largest Yorkshire coalfield.

Returning to Charles’ brushes with the law, newspaper reports added a little more detail, but not much. For example in the March 1900 case around arrears, Bridget revealed that Charles had failed to make payments for their seven year-old daughter for three years. Possibly this corresponded with the time Bridget was involved with her soon-to-be husband, who she married in late 1897.

The reports also indicate Charles lived at Lawns in August 1897 and thereafter in East Ardsley. Did his forays from there into Batley indicate he remained in loose contact with his daughter?  Or were other family connections the draw? There were a number of Ragans living in Batley during this period.

In terms of character, Charles certainly seemed fond of a tipple, given the number of drink-related offences. One from the West Riding Police Court, Wakefield, involved the assault on William Forrest, the landlord of an East Ardsley pub, the “Bedford Arms“.  George Mullins was his partner in this crime. The report in the “Sheffield Daily Telegraph” of 24 August 1897 read:

…the defendants did not appear, it being stated they had left the district. On the afternoon of Friday, the 13th inst., the defendents went to the public-house, created a disturbance, refused to leave, and on being forcibly ejected, Mullins bit the landlord on one of his arms, both men struck and attacked him, and defendants re-entered the house and again assaulted the landlord“.

geograph-3204067-by-Betty-Longbottom

The Bedford Arms, East Ardsley

 So what became of Charles Ragan? By August 1906 he was free of his weekly payments for his daughter, she being 13. It appears he married 34 year-old widow Jane Worth (maiden name Sow(e)ry) on 24 December 1911 at St Mary the Virgin, Hunslet. A quick scan of GRO records reveals the birth of three children, all registered in the Hunslet District between 1913 and 1917.

Charles’ death is registered in Leeds North in Q4 1932. He was 63. He is buried in Hunslet Cemetry.

Bridget died in 1947. Their daughter died more than 45 years ago.

See here for Part 1 and Part 2 of my Batley Borough Court series of posts.

Sources:

[1] Up until the end of my search in 1916
[2] See The Victorian School website for a descriptor of the various levels as they applied from 1872 http://www.victorianschool.co.uk/school%20history%20lessons.html

Borough Court Records: Crime, Punishment & Bastardy in Batley – Part 2, “Kissing Cousins?”

This is the second part of my Batley Borough Court records series. Part 1 can be found here.

Mary Jennings was my 2x great grandmother’s sister, the daughter of Ann Hallas and Herod Jennings. She was born on 16 May 1858, probably in Hartshead, and baptised on 18 May 1859 at St Mary’s, Mirfield.

By the time of the 1881 census her father, Herod, was dead. She lived at Clark Green[1], Batley with her widowed mother Ann who headed the household, and brothers William and James.

Relation Frank Thornton, a 23 year-old coal miner from Hartshead, was also present that census night.  Ann’s sister Louisa Hallas and her husband George Thornton had a son, Franklin, born on the 31 January 1858. Baptised at St Mary’s, Mirfield, on the same day as Mary, his name was often shortened in records to Frank. I assumed this was the man in the Jennings household.

There was a final member of the household that 3 April night: A one-year-old girl named Sarah Ann. She is described on the form as daughter. However Ann at this stage was 56 and a widow for over three years.  Without a birth certificate I worked on the theory Sarah Ann was Ann’s granddaughter. Her birth was registered in Q2 1880, but it’s a case of another too costly certificate to satisfy idle curiosity. Subsequent censuses proved the theory though.

On 24 April 1890 Mary Jennings married 32 year-old mill hand William Blackwell at Batley Parish church. In the censuses of 1891 (Batley) and 1901 (Sherburn in Elmet), Sarah Ann is living in William and Mary’s home, described as “daughter”.

Batley Parish Church – photo by Jane Roberts

But I still did not know who Sarah Ann’s father was…..until I looked at the Batley Borough Court records. On 2 July 1880, shortly after Sarah Ann’s birth, Mary Jennings was named as the claimant and Frank Thornton the defendant in a bastardy case. The hearing was adjourned until 5 July when, in Frank’s absence, an order was made for him to pay 3s per week until the child reached 13 years of age. As well as court costs, he also had to pay £1 10s for the birth expenses.

There now followed a regular procession of non-payment cases. Newspaper reports and prison records flesh out the sorry story. The Batley Borough Court records made tracing these additional sources so much easier. The newspapers involved are not online, so no Optical Character Recognition (OCR) search help here. The prison records only provide the prisoner’s name, so that first court case name lead was crucial for searching these.

The first of the non-payment cases in response to the 5 July 1880 award occurred on 13 May 1881, just over a month after the census. Mary, according to a note in the register margins, was destitute. The upshot was a two month prison sentence for Frank. He served his sentence at Wakefield. The “Nominal Register” prison record provides a description. Frank had received no education and worked as a collier. He stood at s shade over 5’10” with brown hair. The entry also shows he had four previous convictions, with the reference given to his last prison register entry, enabling backtracking.

Another method of looking at convictions is via the “Index to [Nominal] Registers”.  These may span a number of years. It means you can track the references to all previous prison register entries in that time span in one go. They too provide a basic description and birthplace of the prisoner. The Index has not been catalogued in the Ancestry search, but I found it a useful complementary check because some of the “Nominal Registers” have missing volumes which the Index can help fill.

Anyway back to Mary and Frank. Clearly the prison sentence shock failed because he was in court again on 22 May 1882. By then he owed £10 6s in bastardy arrears and, in addition to costs, the court ordered him to pay £1 immediately and thereafter 8s a week to pay off the outstanding balance. It seems this was complied with. There is no record of a custodial imposition.

There was an interval of nearly four years before a very intense period of court activity adjudicating on the disputed domestic matters of Mary and Frank. On 8 January 1886 Frank owed 13 weeks-worth of payments. At 3s a week, this amounted to £1 19s according to the Court register. Another month’s jail sentence followed.

On 8 February 1886, within a couple of days of ending this January one-month prison sentence Frank appeared at the Borough Court once more. He needed to show cause why he should not be sent to prison in default of complying with the bastardy order. His arrears were recorded at £2 2s[2].  Frank said he had no means of paying.  A further 14 day committal followed for him, unless he could find a bondsman that day.  No bondsman was forthcoming, so it was back to Wakefield prison for Frank.

But that did not mark the end. Released from prison on Saturday 20 February, he was immediately apprehended on the same charge. He found himself bounced back into court again on Monday 22 February. Even the newspaper reports now referred to him in sympathetic tones as “the poor man“. Arrears were listed as £1 19s[3] so presumably he had managed to pay a small amount. Frank now promised to pay all the money. He faced a further one month jail sentence, but this was suspended for 28 days to allow him to fulfil his promise to make his payments. It seems he managed it, as there is no imprisonment record.

So who was Frank Thornton? Did the relation comment in the 1881 census refer to him being the nephew of Ann and cousin of Mary, as I initially thought? Was it a reference to Sarah Ann’s paternity? Or was it both? I’ve used censuses, GRO indexes, prison records and newspaper reports to try to pinpoint him.

Including the names Frank, Franklin and Francis in any searches there are a number of “possibles”. However in terms of Hartshead/Mirfield-born alternatives, the birthplace given in prison registers, other than cousin Frank, there appears to be just one. But there is a slight discrepancy with the year of birth (1860) of this alternative, and his occupation does not fit. So it can be discounted. Bringing me back to Mary’s cousin.

Ignoring the birthplace given in the prison records and extending beyond Hartshead/Mirfield does produce other options, but again the stumbling block is job description. There are no feasible coal-miners, although jobs could change. But even allowing for a career switch, why would I want to ignore the birthplace anyway? This is consistent in the prison records.

Extending the search to his other custodial sentences and newspaper coverage of them, including one in 1879 for assaulting a police officer, I still cannot definitively point to Frank being the son of George and Louisa Thornton. However, the evidence so far leads me to think that Sarah Ann’s father was indeed Mary’s cousin. But there is no absolute proof, certainly no reference in the newspapers.

It appears Frank married in Q2 of 1882 (another certificate on my long wish list). Maybe this was the reason behind the May 1882 non-payment. By the time of the 1886 sequence of court cases he had a young family, which again may have strained finances and resulted in him trying to avoid obligations for this first child. By the time of the 1891 census the Thornton family were living near Barnsley and by 1901 they had settled in the north east of England.

So once more the Batley Borough Court records have provided leads and a potential solution to a family paternity mystery, but with quite a different outcome from the previous case. If indeed the father of Mary’s child was her cousin, as it seems, one can only wonder at the strains this whole situation placed on wider family.

There is a third case, with yet another twist, here.

Sources:

  • Batley Borough Court Records – West Yorkshire Archives
  • Batley News” and “Batley Reporter” newspapers, various dates in February 1886
  • Parish Registers – Parish Churches of St Mary’s, Mirfield and All Saints, Batley – available online at http://home.ancestry.co.uk/
  • Censuses – 1861-1911
  • GRO Indexes
  • West Riding Prison Records, “Wakefield Index to [Nominal] Registers” and “Nominal Registers” – available online at http://home.ancestry.co.uk/

[1] The modern spelling is Clerk Green
[2] £2 6s reported in the newspapers
[3] £2 3s in the newspaper reports

Borough Court Records: Crime, Punishment & Bastardy in Batley – Part 1

In my murderous assaults post I mentioned I would be undertaking a series of archives visits focusing on the Batley Borough Court registers to try to establish a fuller picture of court cases involving my ancestors.

The records are held at the Wakefield branch of West Yorkshire Archives. The office closed on 13 May 2016 in preparation for the move to a new building in early 2017. More details are here. So it was something of a race against time to complete this work. But I am pleased to report I did get there in the end. 

The registers are not available online – no, contrary to what some would hope, not everything is! So it is a case of visiting the archives and going through each register page by page. For me it’s a joyful experience, especially with a set of information-rich records for my family history like these proved to be.

West Yorkshire Archives, Wakefield Office – Photo by Jane Roberts

The Batley Borough Court records run from 1872-1974, 116 volumes in total. However with the 100 year legal restriction access limit, I only (!) had to go through 58 of them.

And it has been wonderfully, and unexpectedly, enlightening.

The registers contain columns giving information such as:

  • the date of the case;
  • name of informant/complainant;
  • name of the defendant and age if under 16;
  • nature of offence;
  • adjudication; and
  • the names of the Justices.

There are also other pertinent notes, for example if the fine was paid and, if not, when the custodial sentence was imposed.

Whilst the registers give only the bare bones, they do lead on to other sources, from bmd and employment records to prison registers and newspapers. And because you have a date for the case it is a short-cut for newspaper searching, especially for those “not online” papers, or where online newspaper optical character recognition (OCR) is problematical.

It also pays to check the other cases heard that day as they may be linked to the “partners in crime” of ancestors. 

The cases brought before the court cover the run-of-the-mill drunk and riotous or obscene language cases; incidents of stealing; animal cruelty; failure to send children to school; wilful damage; employees taking employers to court on non-payment of wages (from these I’ve learned the name of the stone mason who employed my 2x great grandfather William Gavan); to attempted suicide and more serious assault, indecent assault, rape and murder cases, some of which are referred onto a higher court. There are a fair few children brought before the Justices and punishments ranged from birch-strikes to reformatory and industrial school sentences. Smallpox vaccination exemptions, applications for children to perform in theatrical productions and beer selling licence transfers and applications also feature.

There are also more domestic-centred cases including married couple disputes, separation orders, orders relating to married women’s property, child neglect accusations, and unmarried mothers claiming maintenance payments for their illegitimate children – crucially providing the name of the father. These maintenance orders were lodged with the petty sessions, or other jurisdiction, local to the mother up to one year after the child’s birth. In these cases the burden of proof was very much weighted in favour of the mother, for obvious money-saving reasons.

Three women connected with my family history appear in this latter set of cases. All three cases have contrasting elements and outcomes, and will feature in three separate posts. This is the first.

Sarah Gavan was born in Kidderminster in June 1857, the third daughter of my 2x great grandparents William and Bridget Gavan (Knavesay). She was baptised in the town’s Catholic chapel on 5 July 1857. Within three years the family relocated to Batley.

On 19 September 1875 Sarah gave birth to her first child, a son named John Thomas. He was baptised at St Mary of the Angels RC church on 3 October 1875. The baptismal register entry starts to records a father’s name, “Thoma“, but this is scored out and there is no surname for him. Sarah was unmarried. But clearly the child’s father was common knowledge.

I am curious to see a birth certificate for John Thomas, to see if his father officially acknowledged him here. From 1875 the reputed father had to be present at the registration to formally consent to his name being included on the certificate. As the Act stated “The name, surname and occupation of an illegitimate child must not be entered except at the joint request of the father and mother; in which case both the father and mother must sign the entry as informants“.

Looking at the GRO indexes, I can’t see a relevant birth registration for a John Thomas Gavan (or variant). Interestingly the Dewsbury Registration District does have a birth registered for a John Thomas Connell in Q4 1875 Vol 9b Page 625. This is a possible, given subsequent research including bmds and the 1881 census onwards. I would love to look at this to see if it did relate to Sarah’s son, and if so why he is not registered under Gavan: Was “Thomas” from the baptismal register present to jointly register is son’s birth as it appears. Oh for the long awaited certificate price-reduction!

As indicated, my search of the Batley Borough Court records adds an additional layer of paternal proof and a new dimension to events. On 10 November 1875 Thomas Connell appeared before the court on a bastardy charge and was ordered to pay Sarah Gavan 3s a week from their child’s birth until the age of 14.

Payments were occasionally difficult for Irish-born pit-worker Thomas, and his parental responsibility not always diligently complied with. Perhaps his court appearances and fines played a part.

It appears that he, and a number of other coal miners, were taken to court in 1876 by their Batley colliery employer James Critchley for absenting themselves from service without appropriate notice. In Thomas’ case this was from 17-24 January, and his employer sought compensation of 17s 6d. The case was heard at Batley Borough Court on 26 January 1876 and Thomas, who failed to appear, was found guilty and ordered to pay. The incident was reported fully in the local papers.

Weeks later, on 28 February 1876, there is another court register entry with Sarah in the role of complainant against Thomas. The entry merely says bastardy, so presumably this is for arrears. The obvious conclusion is the colliery episode and subsequent fine played a part in his financial difficulties and failure to pay.

The next entry for a case between Sarah and Thomas was on 24 June 1878. This was adjourned for four weeks, until 22 July 1878. The July entry also contains an adjournment note.

After that nothing – because within the month the two were wed. Less than three years after John Thomas’ birth the couple married on 17 August 1878 at St Mary’s. They went on to have at least eight more children before Sarah’s death in 1907.

St Mary of the Angels RC Church, Batley – photo by Jane Roberts

The Borough Court register was a crucial part of evidence in ascertaining the paternity of Sarah’s baby . None of these bastardy cases against Thomas made it to the local papers, as far as I discovered.  Contrast this with the next family court case. To be continued

Sources:

  • Batley Borough Court Registers (P/11) – West Yorkshire Archives
  • Batley Cemetery Register (unconsecrated)
  • Batley Reporter” and “Dewsbury Reporter” newspapers of 29 January 1876
  • Census – 1861-1911
  • GRO indexes
  • Parish Registers – St Ambrose, Kidderminster & St Mary of the Angels, Batley
  • My ancestor was a bastard” by Ruth Paley

 

 

 

Batley Privy Riots and the Death of a Policeman

Searching for my ancestors in the Batley library newspapers, I ended up totally side-tracked reading about the goings-on in the town’s New Street area. Some incidents involved distantly connected relations. But the real value was the insight it gave into the community in which my ancestors lived, over a narrow timeframe. I looked at the two years from Christmas 1875. Whilst I didn’t read every paper, the ones I skimmed gave a flavour.

The 1875 Christmas festivities in New Street, an Irish immigrant area, resulted in court appearances for a number of its residents. The first involved Ann Gavan, a married woman (so far no link with my Gavans), accompanied by the headline in the “Batley Reporter” of 1 January 1876 “The Way Christmas is Kept in New Street”. On 27 December she appeared at Batley Borough Court, convicted of being drunk and riotous on Christmas Day.

She attracted police attention on Christmas Eve. Seeing a crowd gathered around her house, Police Sergeant Gamwell looked through the window. He saw her lying heavily drunk on the floor, surrounded by a crowd of boys. Her husband was also drunk. In fact they were seldom sober. By 3am Christmas Day the pair were cursing and swearing, attracting a large crowd. At this point Police Constable Shewan apprehended Ann. He couldn’t manage her husband too.

But this wasn’t an isolated New Street incident. Appearing in Batley Borough Court on the same day were an assortment of individuals. Christmas Day saw John King, described as an old man – although what constituted old then may not be the case by today’s standards, hauled off to the police station. Again the charge was one of drunk and riotous behaviour. He also assaulted the arresting office, Police Constable Beecroft. On 26 December Patrick Jordan and Patrick Moran’s drunken fight resulted in a drunk and riotous conviction for the pair. Their escapade tied up five or six police officers most of the evening. And Michael McManus was similarly convicted, for the 17th time.

That wasn’t the end of the parade of individuals before Batley Borough Court for events that Christmas in New Street. The following week’s edition of the “Batley Reporter” contained a string of obscene language cases: Mary Foley used obscene language towards several policemen on 26 December; Ellen Tarpey was convicted of using obscene language toward Mary Gavan (a potential family connection here) on 27 December; the case against John Hannan (another family link) was dismissed. He faced a charge of using obscene language towards Ann McCormick on 28 December. And finally yet another case involving Ann McCormick as victim, this time at the receiving end from John McManus on 27 December. The Mayor wished the bench could fine her too, as he considered her equally to blame in the incident.

The idea that this was a one-off string of cases occasioned by Christmas doesn’t hold water. True the police office was nearby, so the area fell under particular scrutiny. But no other area of Batley had such a high proportion of cases. In fact the Mayor “….commented strongly on the number of cases of obscene language brought before the Bench especially from that locality; and said if it was not for the cases from that district the magistrates would have little to do”.

And going through the papers there are more cases, not confined to holidays. The one incident that stuck out for me did involve distant relatives: John Hannan, of the murderous poker assault episode on his father-in-law, and his wife, Margaret. The newspaper heading reads “Dealing Gently With New Street Rioters”.

The incident started at 3.45pm on Sunday 15 October 1876, lasted two or three hours, and involved several residents. It was sparked by the disputed use of a privy in the yard of Patrick Gannon. Hannan and another man broke open its door. They claimed they had a right to be in the toilet. It appears Gannon and nearby neighbour Mary McManus, with whom the Hannans now lodged, shared the same landlord. The landlord authorised Mary’s use of the privy.

687px-Toilet_in_the_Beamish_Museum_01 (2)

Outside Toilet at Beamish – Wikimedia Commons by Immanuel Giel

Gannon claimed that as he challenged the “intruders”, Hannan struck him. At this point Gannon fetched the police.

Normally in these circumstances the police would not attend. They would issue an assault summons. On this occasion Police Constable Friendly Hague went with Gannon to New Street, an action subsequently criticised. He defended it by saying Gannon was afraid to go home. Perhaps the fact Hannan was well-known to the police had an influence.

It was claimed Hannan re-commenced his attack on Gannon. Police Constable Webber, upon seeing the crowd gathered in New Street, went to see what was happening. He assisted Police Constable Hague in apprehending Hannan, who resisted. In the ensuing melee Bridget Gannon, wife of Patrick, came out with a poker. At this point Hannan was on the floor, black in the face from being throttled by Police Constable Hague.

Margaret Hannan now joined in to rescue her husband. She too was armed with a poker, striking both Gannon and Police Constable Hague about the head, shoulders and back with it, saying “I’ll not let the b___ take him”. She was led away by Mary McManus.

Michael Gallagher also joined the affray, kicking Police Constable Hague whilst on the floor, saying “We’ll kill the b___ if you like”. Hannan incited Gallagher further by crying “Go into him”, so Gallagher obliged, aiming another kick.

The upshot of this Court appearance before the Mayor, Alderman J.T.Marriott: Hannan was cleared of assaulting Gannon. He was also cleared of damaging Police Constable Hague’s trousers, as the Mayor said the policeman should not have rushed in as he did. He was, however, convicted of the assault on Hague; as was Gallagher; Margaret was convicted of assaulting both the policeman and Gannon.

Whist on the surface this seems a series of humorous incidents, it highlights the problems faced by these early Victorian police in executing their duty. It was also a precursor to an event with far more serious consequences: the death of a policeman in the town on 9 December 1877. Inevitably New Street featured in the events.

William Peet [1] was born in January 1853, the son of agricultural labourer Thomas Peet and his wife Sarah. His baptism took place on 1 May 1853 in the parish of Wolvey in Warwickshire, close to the border with Leicestershire. The family are recorded here prior to William’s birth in the 1851 census, with daughters Sarah Ann (6), Elizabeth (2) and Jane (2 months).

By the time of the 1861 census the Peets had moved north to Broomhill near Barnsley. In addition to William and his parents, the family included Jane (10), Joseph (6) and infant son Thomas.

William’s father died sometime prior to the 1871 census. This census shows William as the oldest child residing in his mother Sarah’s home. Not yet 50 and described as an annuitant, she had five other sons at home, three under the age of 10. These were Joseph (16), Thomas (10), Fred (8), John (7) and Harry (4). William’s wage from his job as a mason’s labourer must have been a welcome support.

In September 1874 William married 19 year old Mary Downs at Wombwell parish church. The register entry describes his occupation as a miner. Two daughters followed, Lily (1875) and Sarah Ann (1877).

It was shortly after Sarah Ann’s birth that William undertook a significant change of career. 1856 saw the creation of the West Riding Constabulary, an organisation which William joined on 17 September 1877. The Examination Book shows he measured 5”8¼”, had light hair, light blue eyes and a fair complexion. He described his trade as a labourer, his previous employment being at Barnsley’s Lundhill colliery. He was attached to the Division responsible for policing in Batley on 23 October 1877.

It was at around the time of a sequence of serious incidents between Batley’s Irish community and the police. In one incident, originating in New Street at the end of November 1877, Police Constable Beecroft suffered such a serious assault it rendered him unfit for work weeks later. This was the situation facing the new policeman. A situation which cost him his life on Sunday 9 December 1877.

The remarks column of his Examination Book reads:

Killed in a street row at Batley by a number of drunken Irishmen (between 11pm and midnight). He and PC 278 Herring were quelling the disturbance when 7 or 8 Irishmen turned round and began to beat, stone and kick them in a most unmerciful manner, one of them striking a fatal blow on the head with a heavy walking stick taken from PC Herring”.

From around 9pm on 8 December PC Peet and PC Robert Herring patrolled the Batley area around New Street, Wellington Street, Hick Lane and Union Street. At just gone 11pm they heard a disturbance on Cobden Street and witnessed a crowd of around 60 men and women. A number of them, William Flynn (27 year old shoemaker), Patrick Phillips (labourer, age 25 ), John Ryan (labourer, 24) and Michael O’Neill (labourer) had been to a jig at Patrick McGowan’s “Prince of Wales” beerhouse in Cobden Street. New Street’s Ann McCormick, a rag picker and a familiar name in my research of the area, (there was a mother and daughter of this name and I suspect this was the daughter whereas the one involved in the Christmas 1875 incidents was the mother), also attended the dance. Now, after closing time, many of the revellers became involved in a street dispute.

Some men had their coats off, including Flynn, O’Neill and Phillips, and were threatening to strike men from the Staincliffe area and neighbouring town of Heckmondwike, including Patrick Hunt. When PCs Peet and Herring arrived Ann McCormick, screaming and crying, claimed she had been struck by one of the Batley men, pointing in the direction of Flynn and O’Neill. Apparently it was the latter. There is the possibility she was trying to obtain payback for a prevented marriage.

1892 map showing the area events took place

The police tried to diffuse the situation, attempting to get the crowd to disperse. At this point the Staincliffe and Heckmondwike men made their escape. Flynn and his mates progressed down Peel Street, swearing and cursing but then, reaching Wellington Street, refused to move.

Challenged by Herring about their dispersal delay, one of the men knocked the policeman down stealing his wooden stick. He then charged at PC Peet striking him about the head with the stolen weapon, knocking him to the ground and taking his truncheon.

There was some confusion as to the identity of this assailant. PC Herring remained adamant throughout the judicial process it was Flynn; but it was a dark night with little lamplight, and evidence from others was confusing with some indicating O’Neill. Some giving evidence claimed not to have seen blows struck, others only fist blows. Doubt was also cast on Herring’s identification because he had only been working in the Batley area for a few weeks. And new witnesses crawled out of the woodwork disputing events. For example Mary Foley appeared at the Assizes claiming she witnessed the row but hadn’t appeared before the magistrates earlier in proceedings because she “had a queer husband, a large family, and did not want to be mixed up with the police”.

Whilst Peet was down, Flynn, O’Neill and Ryan aimed kicks at him. They then turned on PC Herring.

This provided an opportunity for PC Peet to regain his feet and assist his colleague. The pair managed to grab hold of Flynn. Other men in the crowd began to pelt the police with stones and loose setts which had been left in he street by council workmen carrying out repairs. John McManus, a 25 year old collier, was identified as the man who threw the setts. Phillips as a stone-thrower. Peet was hit on the back of the arm or shoulder. The stone-throwing enabled Flynn to escape into a house in New Street, the police giving chase.

No other officer heard PC Herring’s whistle-blowing calls for help and the crowd refused to assist, so he remained watching the house whilst PC Peet brought police reinforcements. The extra police arrived but upon entering the house they found Flynn had vanished.


The police now went about tracing and arresting those involved. These included Flynn (apprehended in his bed at his Ward’s Hill home 1.30am. His wife woke him and he struck her saying “You b*****”, and to Robert Webber, one of the arresting policemen “It’s thy b***** phizog is it?”). Others rounded up were McManus, Ryan, Martin Devanagh and Patrick and James Phillips. Patrick Phillips, according to some reports, lodged in John Hannan’s house, but the Clark Green[2] location does raise questions as to whether it is “my” man. One person though evaded capture – O’Neill.

Whilst this was going on, at just before 1am in the morning Peet complained of feeling ill and returned to his Purlwell Lane home in the Mount Pleasant area of town. It was a house which he and his family shared with the Herring family. During the early hours he became increasingly unwell, lapsing into a coma. Police surgeon James Cameron was called at around 6am and Peet died just before 8am.

Cameron undertook a post-mortem, assisted by Dr William Bayldon. It revealed Peet had suffered a skull fracture and haemorrhage, causing his death. Peet’s body was taken back to his home near Barnsley for burial.

The two-part inquest in front of Thomas Taylor, district coroner, was held on the 11 and 18 December at the New Inn at Clark Green in Batley. A verdict of murder by Flynn was reached.

The men next appeared before the Magistrates, and a large crowd, at Batley Town Hall on 20 December. The case against Devanagh was dropped as the evidence against him was not sufficiently strong. Herring couldn’t swear to his presence and he, naturally, denied having been there.

At the end of the hearing James Phillips was also discharged. Although said to be at the row, he wasn’t seen doing anything termed fatal.

That left Flynn, Ryan, McManus and Patrick Phillips committed to trial at the Yorkshire Winter Assizes on a wilful murder charge: Flynn as the man who inflicted the fatal blow, the others for aiding and abetting. Some discussion did take place about extending this serious charge  wider than Flynn, but the balance of opinion swayed in favour of it. They concluded it was not necessary that all persons should inflict the fatal blow. If those present aided and abetted, they were all equally guilty of wilful murder.

The proceedings in Batley were not without occasional humour, a kind of “us and them” scenario reminiscent of Sir Jeremiah Harman’s Springsteen, Gascoigne and Oasis comments. These included an exchange in Batley Borough Court  about the meaning of “jig“, with Mr Airton from the West Riding Police providing the explanation.

“Dewsbury Reporter” 22 December 1877 – A Jig Explained

At the inquest  Ellen Chappell, a witness, illustrates wonderfully why we have variations in ancestral surname spellings.

Surname Confusion – “Huddersfield Chronicle” 19 December 1877

The Assizes took place at Leeds Town Hall the following month. One of the first decisions made by the Grand Jury was a downgrading of the charges against Ryan, McManus and Phillips as there did not appear to be any common purpose between Flynn and the others to attack Peet. They now faced a charge of assaulting a policeman in the execution of his duty. Only Flynn faced the charge of wilful murder.

His trial took place on 18 January 1878. To an outbreak of applause in the court the jury returned a “not guilty” verdict. This on the basis of uncertainty as to who stuck the fatal blow – they could not definitely say it was Flynn. He was detained to face an assault charge with the others, the following day.

This was the final trial of the Assizes. Because Flynn had been acquitted of Peet’s murder, no evidence was offered for the assault and he was discharged. Guilty verdicts were reached against the other three men, who each received six month sentences.

Mary Peet and her children returned to her hometown of Wombwell, near Barnsley. The Police Committee granted her a £65 gratuity. A subscription fund was also established for her. She married coalminer Den(n)is Bretton in 1879, having a number of other children during her second marriage, including a son named William.

Besides a man loosing his life, the death of PC Peet highlighted racial tension in Batley, between the Irish and local communities. A series of local newspaper letters and articles are testimony to this. One letter illustrating the fact, which attracted much attention, appeared in the “Dewsbury Reporter” of 15 December 1877. It was written from “A Batley Lad”. It harked back to the leniency shown to those New Street privy rioters amongst others. It read:

The murder of a constable, often predicted, in Batley, has at last taken place, and perhaps the Irish now will be a trifle more quiet. They have felled many a policeman during the last two years, and when brought up, especially when Mr J.T. Marriott was Mayor and Ex-Mayor, have been let off, as your paper recorded from time to time, with most inadequate punishment. The Irish in this quarter are a very low lot, and rows and fights have taken place every weekend, but instead of the magistracy supporting the representatives of the law they have leaned to the other, and not virtuous side.

I think it is time that we had our own borough police, for if we had I think we should not allow them to be knocked about by the Irish roughshod as the poor county constables have been.

Perhaps the Irish after this murder will remember Patrick Reid”.[3]

Rev. Canon Gordon, the priest at St Mary of the Angels RC Church, referred to the incident in his sermon on Sunday 16 December 1877. He stated the Irishmen involved in the disturbance and murder never entered Church, and were Catholics in name only. He went on to say the event was a disgrace to all true Irishmen and Catholics. The incident confirmed his previously expressed opinion that a murder would be committed in Batley as a result of the excessive drinking which prevailed in the Irish classes. He concluded by expressing the hope that God would severely punish the guilty as a lesson to future generations.

This was the community in which my Irish ancestors lived and were part of. Its history forms a critical backdrop in shaping their everyday lives.

I’ve named only a fraction of those involved in the various stages of the trial for the murder of William Peet. If anyone believes their ancestor is involved I’m happy to check my notes.

Footnotes:
[1] Sometimes referred to as Peete
[2] Modern spelling is Clerk Green
[3] Patrick Reid was an Irish hawker executed in York on 8 January 1848 for the triple murder in Mirfield of James and Ann Wraith and their servant Caroline Ellis

Sources:

  • Ancestry.co.uk – Warwickshire Anglican Registers for the Parish of Wolvey; West Riding Constabulary Examination Books; Wakefield Charities Coroners Notebooks, 1852-1909; Criminal Registers, 1791-1892 (HO 27);
  • “Batley Reporter” newspaper
  • Census: 1851-1881
  • FindMyPast – Doncaster Archives Yorkshire Marriages; newspapers including “Dewsbury Reporter”, “Huddersfield Chronicle”, “Leeds Mercury”, “Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer”,
  • GRO Indexes
  • Wikimedia Commons for photograph of outside toilet, by Immanuel Giel – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1110467