Tag Archives: Cemeteries

A Prescription for Death

The intriguing inscription on Robert Shackleton’s impressive headstone in Batley cemetery commands attention.

After noting his death date of 24 September 1874, it reads:

HE WAS THE FIRST BOROUGH ACCOUNTANT OF
THIS TOWN AND HELD THE OFFICE TILL HIS DEATH
HIS UNIFORM INTEGRITY AND KINDNESS WON
FOR HIM THE ESTEEM OF ALL WHO KNEW HIM.
AND HIS SUDDEN REMOVAL UNDER
CIRCUMSTANCES MOST PAINFUL WAS THE
CAUSE OF DEEP SORROW TO A LARGE CIRCLE OF
RELATIVES AND FRIENDS.

What were these most painful circumstances causing his sudden removal? I had to investigate – and in the process discovered a dark Victorian tale, with an unexpected twist of compassion.

Robert Shackleton’s Batley Cemetery headstone – photo by Jane Roberts

Robert Shackleton was born in Holbeck on 15 August 1817, the son of miller Richard Shackleton and wife Ann. His was a Quaker family and, rather than baptism, Robert’s birth was registered in the Brighouse Monthly Meeting book – though later in his life Robert switched from Quakerism and would be associated with the Methodist New Connexion denomination.

Subsequently, rather than milling, Richard’s primary job focus was as a proprietor of a grocer’s shop. Initially this was the trade his son followed, with the 1851 census describing Robert’s occupation as a grocer and watchmaker. At this point he was living in the Havercroft area of Batley, lodging with his brother George Walker Shackleton, also a grocer. George’s wife, Susan, was a daughter of Michael Sheard, one of Batley’s leading cloth manufacturers. So the Shackletons were already well-connected locally.

On 18 January 1855, Richard further cemented these powerful local connections when he married widow Rachel Fox at Batley parish church. Five years after the death of her husband David, the 1851 census noted an unusual occupation for her – as a rag dealer employing five girls. Dig deeper, and perhaps it was not totally unexpected. Her husband worked in the woollen trade, and her father, Joseph Jubb, was among Batley’s textile manufacturing royalty. Associated with Hick Lane Mill, founded in 1822, and said to have been the first built for the production of shoddy cloth, Joseph later operated from New Ing Mill. More about a tragedy which took place in connection to his business can be read here.

It seems Robert took over his wife‘s business, as the 1861 census finds the family at Up Lane, Batley, with Robert recorded as a rag merchant employing five women. However, when Batley became a Borough in 1868, Robert was appointed Batley’s first Borough accountant. This is the job recorded for him in the 1871 census.

The stresses of work may have affected Robert, because he was prone to indigestion, popping into William Parrington’s chemist shop on Commercial Street two or three times a week to have a draught of pepsine made up. 23-year-old Benjamin Scatcherd, who had worked for three months as the chemist’s assistant, had of late done this under the supervision of his boss.

At around 6pm on 22 September 1874, just before going to the Town Hall for a Sanitary Committee meeting, Robert called in at the chemists for his usual draught. William Parrington had nipped out, so Ben made it up unsupervised. It comprised of four elements – pepsine, water, bi-carbonate of potash, and compound ammonia. The pepsine dose was around 10 grains, unweighed.

At around 7pm, William Parrington returned and saw an empty glass measure on the counter. Ben told him Mr Shackleton had been in for his draught. Eagle-eyed William then noticed that whilst the pepsine bottle was in the correct place, a morphia bottle was on the wrong shelf. The two bottles were the same size, and morphia and pepsine were similar coloured powders.


An array of medicine bottles in a late 19th century chemist’s shop Licence: Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)
Credit: Late 19th century Chemist’s shop formerly owned by N.F. Tyler.Wellcome Collection. Source:Wellcome Collection.

William Parrington quickly suspected what had happened, a suspicion which the horrified Ben Scatcherd confirmed. Despite the shop being well-lit and the bottles clearly labelled, his young assistant, distracted by other customers in the shop, had confused the pepsine with morphia. Even worse, 10 grains of morphia was a fatal dose – the normal dose being an eighth of a grain, to a grain!

Hoping to avert disaster, William hot-footed it over to the Town Hall, only to find he was too late – Robert had already taken the draught. In response to the chemist’s enquiry he said he felt “sleepy and drowsy.” William told him about the medicine mix-up, and took the drug-poisoned Borough accountant to his shop where emetics were unsuccessfully administered. No vomiting ensued to dispel the poison.

Ben Scatcherd was dispatched at speed to fetch Drs. Bayldon and Keighley, who gave stronger emetics and applied a stomach pump three times – all to no avail. The potion was not brought up.

Robert’s brother-in-law, Healey warp agent John Thomas Marriott (who happened to be one of the Councillors at the dramatically interrupted meeting), was called to Parrington’s shop at about 9pm. He – along with the chemist – took the stupefied accountant back to Robert’s home on Hanover Street, staying with him through the night. Over the next two days the chemist and doctors were frequent visitors to the Shackleton home. Robert did briefly rally from his comatose state on Wednesday, being able to speak and raise himself up in bed, but it proved temporary. By the evening of Thursday 24 September he once more relapsed, dying at around 10.40pm that night.

His funeral, held on Saturday 26 September 1874, was a major civic display, with the town’s great and good – including its Mayor, Councillors, and an assortment of high-ranking Corporation officials – prominently represented. The five family mourning coaches and several private carriages gave further indication of the status of the deceased.

As the cortège made its way from the Shackleton’s Hanover Street home to Batley cemetery, it passed through Batley’s quietened streets, bordered by shuttered shops and blind-drawn houses, and lined by hundreds of townsfolk paying their silent respects.

Ben Scatcherd in later life

Whilst great sympathy was expressed with the Shackleton family, this sympathy extended to Ben Scatcherd, the young man whose lapse in concentration led to him administering the fatal dose morphia.

The inquest, held the day before, considered whether Scatcherd had been guilty of criminal negligence. Whilst the foreman indicated the assistant had displayed a degree of carelessness, their unanimous verdict was “Death from misadventure.” The only punishment inflicted on Ben Scatcherd was the heavy burden to his conscience, knowing his error had resulted someone’s death.

Surprisingly, the 1881 census shows Kirkburton-born Scatcherd still working as a druggist’s assistant. He also had a spell as a rag merchant’s book-keeper, before setting up his own business as a stocking knitter and dealer in woollen goods in Batley Carr. His business expanded, and he took on premises in Town Street, becoming a highly respected tradesman in the area. He died in 1917.


Postscript:
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Sources:
• Batley Cemetery Burial Register.
•  Censuses England and Wales, various dates.
• Coroner’s notes.
• Newspapers – Various.
• Parish Registers – Various.
• Power and Influence, Batley Cemetery Walk – Malcolm Haigh.
• Quaker Records.
• Vivien Tomlinson’s Family History website, https://vivientomlinson.com/batley/index.htm


A Grave Disturbance in Batley

On an evening in late May 1942, under cover of darkness in wartime black-out Batley, a bizarre crime was under way. The mystery would make headlines in newspapers across the country – including the nationals.

On Saturday night, 23 May, Allan Pollard of Coal Pit Lane, employed by Batley Corporation as the Cemetery Ranger, undertook his normal routine at Batley cemetery. At 8pm, after checking thoroughly to make sure everything was in order and that the grounds were empty of the living, he locked the gates for the night.

In Batley police station, Monday 25 May was proving a fairly routine morning for 27-year-old Police Constable Arthur Peakman of the West Riding of Yorkshire Constabulary. But things took a dramatic turn and became anything but routine at 9.25am, when Robert Edward Cardwell, foreman gardener at Batley cemetery, burst in to report a strange occurrence.

Cardwell lived on Towngate Road, local to the cemetery, and had entered the cemetery grounds at 7.50am on Sunday morning. He could not believe the sight which met his eyes in the Roman Catholic portion. One of the graves, S.1078, had been re-opened. The opening measured five feet long, two feet wide and five feet deep. Soil had been thrown on surrounding graves causing damage to five of them, estimated to be around five shillings in each case.

Cardwell initially informed Fred Burn, the Cemetery Registrar, who confirmed the grave had been opened without his permission. After going through the register and identifying the owners of the affected graves, they agreed the incident must be reported to the police… although there was a delay of a day between the discovery of the incident and its official reporting.

After hearing Cardwell’s incredible tale and taking down his official statement, PC Peakman, accompanied by his superior, Sergeant Micklethwaite went to investigate. The graves were located near to the boundary wall on the Healey side of the cemetery. In this period, prior to the building of Healey Estate, it was a particularly secluded area.

Ordnance Survey Maps – Six-inch England and Wales, 1842-1952, Yorkshire CCXXXII.11.SE, Revised: 1938, Published: 1946 – National Library of Scotland, shared under the the Creative Commons Attribution (CC-BY) licence.

With trepidation, the two policemen used a prodder to examine the plot further. It was with immense relief that around one foot below the re-opened depth the prodder struck something solid – the coffin was still there. It had not been tampered with. Nothing appeared to have been stolen from this grave, or those surrounding it.

Continuing their search of the cemetery and surrounding fields, the policemen found traces of clay on the boundary wall, indicating where someone had climbed over to the Cemetery Fields footpath. There the trail ended. The police also found a small area of clay with the imprint of clothing on it. The assumption is this is where the culprit had knelt. Unfortunately the ‘digger’ had been sufficiently alert to ensure he left no tools.

The conclusion of the investigating officers was :

The person who re-opened the grave is evidently strong and virile and might be called an expert in the use of a spade judging form the method in which he cut the clay out.1

Photo by Jane Roberts

But who had carried out this act? And why, as none of the burials in the graves involved in this odd event were so remarkable as to warrant this attention? Was it a solo venture, or were there accomplices? What was being sought? Did the ‘digger’ or ‘diggers’ achieve their objectives, or were they disturbed? Did they fail to complete their task before daybreak and the lifting of blackout restrictions, just after 5am. And which graves were involved?

The disturbed plot was owned by Lilian Igo. The grave contained the body of her husband, 32-year-old James Igo, a Denby Grange Colliery miner, who died in hospital on 8 February after a sudden illness. A parishioner of St Joseph’s, the Batley Carr Catholic parish, his funeral was conducted in Batley cemetery on 13 February 1940.

The damaged graves belonged to:

  • Michael Finn, an ex-serviceman from the Great War. His wife Ann was buried there on 24 April 1941, age 60.2 They were St Mary’s parishioners.
  • James Harkin (sometimes the spelling is Horkin). The Harkin family were associated with St Mary’s parish. James’ 57-year-old wife, Mary, was buried there on 2 April 1931.
  • John William Harkin, whose 45-year-old wife Mary Jane, was buried there on 30 March 1941.3 This family were also associated with St Mary’s.
  • Mary Hill. This grave contained the body of her 33-year-old husband John Herbert (Jack) Hill. He had been killed in a tragic accident whilst building an air-raid shelter at Batley Hospital on 14 March 1940. A former St Mary’s parishioner, the family had recently moved into St Joseph’s parish.
  • Mary Travis. The most recent burial in this grave, on 17 October 1940, was 44-year-old Harold Travis, husband of Agnes (formerly Cairns) of St Mary’s parish.
Batley Cemetery, Photo by Jane Roberts

Following up, PC Peakman now conducted a series of interviews. Later that day he took formal evidence from Cemetery Ranger Allan Pollard, who was adamant that between 6pm and 8pm on 23 May, on his two visits in the vicinity of the grave, all was correct.

Peakman also spoke with Mary Ann Igo (mother of James), Lilian Igo (his widow) and Fathers Kennedy and McMendmin, priests at St Josephs, who had officiated at the funeral.

Accompanied by Inspector Hunter, Peakman’s enquiries continued. These included another visit to Lilian Igo. The policemen also spoke with her father, Harry Riley. Others questioned included Joe Igo and his wife, (brother and sister-in-law of James), Edward Kerfoot (stepbrother of James) and Fathers McBride and Mahoney of St Mary’s. All to no avail. No useful information was gained. They were no further forward in solving the mystery.

The police maintained a nightly vigil of the cemetery for a week afterwards, but no further incidents occurred.

The Batley News paid surprisingly little attention to the strange goings-on in the cemetery, giving them minimal coverage. Describing it as an “Incident That Stirred up the Imagination4 the newspaper castigated London and provincial newspapers for letting their imaginations run riot. The Batley News take was:

…there is little to relate except that the earth was removed in the dead of night and the digging had been neatly done…it seems a trivial event in the history of a town to create national interest.5

But national interest it did create, with reports of police guards in the cemetery to prevent further desecration of graves. The Daily Mirror even interviewed James’s bewildered mother, with her quotes appearing in the newspaper, as follows:

Why should James’s grave have been chosen? He had not been married for a year when he died in hospital a few days after two urgent operations.6

The most macabre theory doing the rounds involved a Yorkshire murder victim.

On the evening of 10 June 1939 Charles Borman, an amateur bird-spotter, made a gruesome discovery in a hedge at Leggett Wood, Scholes: a newspaper parcel containing the head of a woman. Police were summoned and two further similar parcels discovered, containing the woman’s left arm and left leg. The woman’s torso was discovered two days later in Low Wood, near Wellington Hill, Leeds.

The victim was identified as 20-year-old Thornhill-born Ethel Wraithmell, also known as Shirley, whose last known residence was Leeds.

Ethel’s brother, Harry, lived in Batley. For this reason apparently, on 21 July 1939, her remains were encased in a square box and interred in a public grave in Batley cemetery. The location of this public grave was only yards away from the disturbed graves.

Police continued to investigate the “Leeds Torso” case. Almost a year elapsed before it was finally solved. On 27 April 1940, 28-year-old railway worker Wilfred Lowe handed himself into the police, with the words:

I have heard you have been making further inquiries and I have come to tell you it is me you want.7

Wilfred Lowe’s trial commenced at Leeds Assizes on 15 July 1940. He pleaded not guilty. On the second day of the trial, the jury reached its verdict. They agreed, acquitting him of murder, but finding him guilty of manslaughter. He was sentenced to twelve months’ imprisonment.

These sensational events would still be very familiar to many West Riding folk. However, in Batley, the theory of any link between the Wraithmell case and the grave re-opening was roundly dismissed. Registrar Fred Burn told the police he believed the perpetrator had opened the grave he intended to, as all the graves in that portion had number stones. It was not a case of mistaking the grave for that of Ethel Wraithmell.

With police investigations at a dead end, on 3 June 1942 Dewsbury-based Superintendent Stone, wrote to the Batley Town Clerk to inform him that:

…so far no trace has been found of the person or persons responsible….Should any information concerning the matter be obtained I will have you informed.8

The files I viewed contained no further information, although it is clear some other documents concerning the case did exist. Unfortunately, I have not traced them. Perhaps they do not survive.

However, this story does show the importance of local archives. I found the initial information about this bizarre episode purely by chance. I was intrigued by a West Yorkshire Archive Service (WYAS) catalogue description which read “Crime report relating to the re-opening of a grave by persons unknown in Batley Cemetery.” The documents were held by the Kirklees Branch of the WYAS. I quickly made an appointment to view them before this branch’s temporary closure.

When I began reading the file, my interest increased, because it was the Catholic part of Batley Cemetery. It fitted in with my Batley St Mary’s one-place study. My jaw hit the floor though as I read on. One of the graves involved in the incident was my grandad’s.

The files held a series of crime scene photos – and these include my grandad’s damaged grave, with its original wooden cross maker. I cannot publish these photos as they are subject to WYAS copyright. But they are an amazing addition to my family history. And it was a story no living member of the family had heard about.

It goes to show that archives catalogue descriptions (if they do exist, as not everything is catalogued) do not always tell the full story – they are signposts. And research curiosity does sometimes really pay unexpected dividends.

As yet I’ve not found out the identity of the individual(s) who tampered with the grave. Neither have I found a motive. Perhaps the mystery was never solved….unless you know different?


Postscript:
Finally a big thank you for the donations already received to keep this website going. 

The website has always been free to use, but it does cost me money to operate. In the current difficult economic climate I am considering if I can continue to afford to keep running it as a free resource, especially as I have to balance the research time against work commitments. 

If you have enjoyed reading the various pieces, and would like to make a donation towards keeping the website up and running in its current open access format, it would be very much appreciated. 

Please click here to be taken to the PayPal donation link. By making a donation you will be helping to keep the website online and freely available for all. 

Thank you.


Footnotes:
1. Crime report relating to the re-opening of a grave by persons unknown at Batley Cemetery, WYAS, Ref KMT1/Box63/TB83.
2. In Robert Edward Cardwell’s witness statement, as taken by PC Peakman, Michael Finn is incorrectly referred to as Michael Timms.
3. The Batley Cemetery Burial Register incorrectly records her age as 69.
4. Batley News, 6 June 1942.
5. Ibid.
6. Daily Mirror, 1 June 1942.
7. Yorkshire Evening Post, 21 May 1940.
8. Crime report, Ibid.

Other Sources:
• 1939 Register.
• Batley Cemetery Burial Register.
Batley News, 22 July 1939, 17 February 1940, 16 March 1940, 23 March 1940, 20 July 1940, 19 October 1940, 5 April 1941, 26 April 1941, 23 May 1942.
Bradford Observer, 30 May 1942.
• Census of England and Wales, 1891 – 1921.
Daily News (London), 30 May 1942.
• GRO Indexes.
Leeds Mercury, 15 June 1939, 22 June 1939, 23 June 1939.
Nottingham Evening Post, 30 May 1942.
• Parish Registers (various).
Yorkshire Evening Post, 12 June 1939, 13 June 1939, 14 June 1939, 15 June 1939, 17 June 1939, 22 June 1939, 29 April 1940, 21 May 1940, 3 July 1940, 15 July 1940, 16 July 1940, 17 July 1940, 29 May 1942.
Yorkshire Post & Leeds Intelligencer, 12 June 1939, 13 June 1939.

Mystery Flowers on a Grave

A cemetery can tell you so much about a town’s past. It is a physical representation of the lives of many of its inhabitants – years, decades and even centuries after they departed its soil. Headstones provide a snapshot of their lives. The uniform layout of burial registers record the passing of the rich, the less well-off and the impoverished. And combined, their lives and deaths chart the history and development of a town over time.

Batley cemetery, and its register, is no exception. The first burial recorded in the register’s consecrated (Church of England) portion of the cemetery is on 19 January 1867 for nine-week-old William Henry Stockwell; in the unconsecrated section it is 25-year-old Mary Fox, on 10 November 1866. She, therefore, is the first registered burial in the cemetery. In this post I will focus on one grave in the consecrated section.

This grave has a headstone. It marks the loss of three young lives. The children are all from different families. One was buried in accordance with the rites of the Church of England. The other two were Catholic burials. All have unusual names for the area. Particularly striking is how, over a century after the occupants of the grave were buried, artificial flowers are still being placed at the foot of the cross.

So how did these three children come to be buried in Batley cemetery?

Their story starts in August 1914, the outbreak of the Great War and the German invasion of Belgium. These children were refugees, either driven directly from their home by war, or born in this country subsequently to parents forced to flee Belgium. Many came to Great Britain, and towns countrywide welcomed them. By the end of 1914 an estimated 110,000 Belgian refugees were in the country.1

The first Belgium refugees officially arrived in Batley on 17 October. A mixture of single people and family groups, they numbered 25 in total.2 They were accommodated at Shaftesbury House, Upper Batley. This was the residence of the late Alderman J. J. Parker, an ex-Mayor of the Borough. It was fitted out and furnished free of charge by Batley residents. The refugees were also provided with free medical care, and Batley Corporation waived any rates on the property.

Ordnance Survey Maps – 25 inch England and Wales, 1841-1952, Yorkshire CCXXXII.11 (Batley; Morley), Revised: 1915, Published: 1922 – National Library of Scotland, under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC-BY-NC-SA) licence

In those first months Batley people showed an intense interest in the new arrivals, and the newspapers contained regular updates about the town’s Belgian guests. There were even set visiting days, so locals could turn up to show sympathy and solidarity with them. The generosity of the Batley public continued, with monetary donations and increasing offers of accommodation resulting in the ability to house even more Belgian refugees.

Eighteen more arrived on 21 November. Nine went to Woodhall, in a house provided by Henry Jessop. The others were housed in properties on Byron Street, Kelvin Grove and Primrose Hill. The continuing swell of housing offers meant that by February 1915 almost 70 Belgian refugees were based in Batley.3

Their new homes were supplied by a variety of locals. These included Staff Nurse Alice Musto, who offered up her home on the Warwick Road corner of Taylor Street whilst she was away serving with the Territorial Nursing Force.4 As experience built up, it was found that these separate family houses were best for homing the refugees. Though the larger multi-occupancy group houses still had an important role in that they helped the newly-arrived, providing company and support for them until they became familiar with the area, people and language.

Support facilities for the displaced foreigners grew. A special class for Belgian children was established at St Paulinus RC School in Dewsbury. Attended by 15 scholars, their Belgian teacher was Miss Callens, who herself had arrived in the country only recently. The Tramway Company provided free travel for those children living a distance from school. Meals were provided free by members of the St Paulinus congregation.5

English language classes were provided for adults. Entertainment was also laid on. Christmas parties and gifts were supplied. The area even had Catholic priests who themselves were refugees from Belgium. They were attached to the local churches to minister to the refugee flock. These included Father Julien Kestelyn at Birstall St Patrick’s, subsequently posted to St Mary’s; and Father Paul van de Pitte, initially at St Joseph’s, Batley Carr.

In regards to religious observance, one amusing incident occurred soon after the refugees’ arrival. An offer from a Batley resident to take a family group to church was enthusiastically accepted. The lady, not a Catholic, ascertained the times of Sunday mass at St Mary’s, based on the assumption that all from Belgium were Catholic. She even accompanied them to church, neglecting her own religious observances that day. Except it transpired after mass that the Belgian family were actually Protestants! It turned out the initial batch of Woodhall refugees were non-Catholics. So a girl living there had provision made for her to attend Staincliffe Church school.

Batley townsfolk continued to make regular contributions to the Belgian Relief Fund. For example, by June 1915 St Mary’s RC Church had made 17 separate donations to the fund following church collections.6

Tensions did exist though, for instance around the cost of maintaining these refugees. In January 1915, whilst dismissing public murmurings about them being treated too well, it was agreed that care was needed not to spoil them. By the beginning of October 1915, when the mutual decision was made that the refugees were to feed and clothe themselves wherever the man’s work permitted it, the town’s Belgian Refugees Fund donations stood at £914 5s.7 In simple purchasing power terms that equates to £74,900 at today’s values.8 Support remained though. For example, housing, coal and lighting would continue to be provided free of charge.

On 14 December 1914 a particularly unsavoury incident occurred. At 6.15am 19-year-old Woodhall resident Jean Joseph Soumagne was attacked going to work at J Blackburn and Co’s mill. Whilst making his way down the footpath to Healey Lane, a man sprang from behind a wall, stabbed him in the cheek and right thigh, then threw him down in the mud, before making his escape under cover of darkness. There is no mention of Joseph being targeted because of his nationality, but the implication is there, especially because nothing was taken.9 Jean Joseph subsequently applied to join the Belgian Army.10

Ordnance Survey Maps – 25 inch England and Wales, 1841-1952, Yorkshire CCXXXII.11 (Batley; Morley), Revised: 1915, Published: 1922 – National Library of Scotland, under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC-BY-NC-SA) licence

And it was the youngest Soumagne child who was the first young refugee to be buried in the grave in Batley cemetery, in a plot purchased by the local Belgian Relief Committee. Forty-year-old Antwerp nickel-plater Lucien Soumagne, his 43-year-old wife Marie, and children Jean Joseph (19), Lucien (16) and Edgard Lucien (3) were amongst the original nine Woodhall residents who arrived at the house in November 1914.11 Mr and Mrs Soumagne had prominent roles within the Batley Belgian community, liaising with authorities and seemingly acting as spokespersons in particular for the Woodhall refugees. The family were non-Catholics, which may partly explain why this burial plot was purchased in the Consecrated Church of England portion of Batley cemetery.

Edgard died on 15 March 1915 as a result of diphtheria. Thankfully rare in this country now due to childhood vaccination, this highly-infectious, primarily respiratory-spread disease was a killer back in 1915. The sore throat, high temperature, headache and nausea rapidly led to difficulty in breathing and swallowing. It could also damage the heart, kidneys and liver, and affect the skin. The disease reached epidemic proportions in Batley in 1915. Ninety six cases were notified that year, the highest proportion since 1893. A particularly bad outbreak occurred in the last quarter of 1915, centred around youngsters over 14 who had left school. Almost all of these were in the Cobden Street area of town, and connected with Irish Roman Catholics. Because of its infectious nature, 87 of the year’s 96 sufferers were admitted to hospital.12 It was here, at the Oakwell Isolation Hospital, that Edgard died – just one of 18 diphtheria deaths in Batley that year.

He was interred in Batley cemetery on 18 March, in a service conducted amidst fleeting snow, by the Batley Parish Church curate, Rev. J. S. Walker. In addition to his parents, brothers, and local people closely involved with the refugees, his paternal aunt – herself a refugee – travelled up from Bedfordshire.

The next child to be laid to rest in this plot was an 11-week-old baby girl, Irene Josephine Lambertine Bovy. Her birth was registered in the Kings Norton district of Birmingham, the daughter of Mr and Mrs Phillipe D. J. Bovy. The family only arrived in Batley the month prior to Irene’s death, to live with relatives at Woodhall, which now included Catholics amongst its residents. She passed away on the morning of 23 September 1915. Like Edgard, she too died in hospital as a result of another childhood killer disease, whooping cough. All 16 deaths recorded in 1915 in Batley Borough for this disease related to children under the age of five.13 Again this is another disease today successfully combatted by childhood vaccination. Irene’s burial took place on 25 September, conducted by Catholic priest Paul van de Pitte.

The final child buried here is the six-month old daughter of Belgian soldier Leon Lemmens. Hortensia Leoni Lemmens’ birth was registered in Dewsbury in 1917. Latterly she and her mother had been staying at Rock Farm, Upper Batley, with another family of Belgian refugees. Prior to that they had been supported at Osborne Terrace (see first map) by members of Batley Conservative Club, who continued this support in paying for the child’s burial expenses. Hortensia died on the 2 February 1918, and her funeral – conducted by Batley St Mary’s Catholic priest Father Shea – took place on the 5 February.

The headstone which marks the grave notes they are the children of Belgian refugees. It reads:

IN
MEMORY
EDGARD LUCIEN FRANCOIS
JOSEPH SOUMAGNE,
DIED MARCH 15TH 1915,
AGED 3 YEARS.
IRENE JOSEPHINE LAMBERTINE BOVY,
DIED AUGUST 23RD 1915, AGED 11 WEEKS.
HORTENSIA LEONI LEMMENS
DIED FEBRUARY 2ND 1918, AGED 6 MONTHS.
CHILDREN OF BELGIAN REFUGEES

Close-up of the inscription – Photo by Jane Roberts

And, curiously, even a century after their deaths, someone is remembering their loss by regularly placing the artificial flowers on their grave.

Footnotes:
1. Batley News, 2 January 1915;
2. Batley News, 24 October 1914;
3. Batley News, 6 February 1915;
4. Batley News, 30 January 1915;
5. Batley News, 28 November 1915;
6. Batley News, 12 June 1915;
7. Batley News, 2 October 1915;
8. Measuring Worth website, https://www.measuringworth.com/index.php;
9. Batley News, 19 December 1915;
10. Batley News, 16 January 1915;
11. Batley News, 28 November 1915;
12. Pearce, G H. Borough of Batley Annual Report of the Medical Officer of Health For the Year 1915. JS Newsome, Batley, 1916; and
13. Ibid.

Other Sources:
Batley Cemetery Burial Registers;
Batley News, 5 December 1914, 9 January 1915, 20 March 1915, 25 September 1915, 9 October 1915, and 9 February 1918;
GRO Indexes; and
National Library of Scotland website

Five Tips for a Family History Cemetery Visit

Perhaps taphophilia and family history go hand in hand? I can spend ages wandering through a cemetery marvelling at the various headstone designs and reading the inscriptions. The architecture and symbolic imagery of some headstones is simply stunning. They contain so many stories, so much history and they silently speak volumes about attitudes towards death, culture, beliefs, religion, mourning and mortality over the ages.

Lottie Oddy’s Batley Cemetery Headstone – “who met her death by the fall of the cliffs at Bridlington” – Photo by Jane Roberts

Importantly, for family historians, they can contain clues about family sizes, family relationships, occupations, interests and causes of death. For example, Lottie Oddy’s headstone (above) in Batley Cemetery, details her unusual death cause – a tale I wrote about in an earlier blog. And only the other day in Masham I discovered several occupational graves, including that of Ralph Edon (below).

Ralph Edon’s Headstone Inscription at Masham Giving Some Occupational Information (Late Surgeon, 35th Regiment) – Photo by Jane Roberts

They may record deaths of family members buried elsewhere. For example, several headstones in Batley cemetery record deaths of Great War servicemen buried overseas, or with no known grave. On a personal level for my research, a Hallas headstone at Roberttown All Saints includes the name of a child buried at Mirfield St Mary’s.

Some clues may be very subtle. One headstone in Batley cemetery recorded death dates for all family members bar one. Further investigation revealed his body had been dumped on a doorstep, and the exact date of death was unknown.

And don’t forget to note wider details. The headstone, or burial location within the cemetery, could be an indication of the family’s wealth or standing in the community.

I’ve visited so many cemeteries over the years, hunting down the headstones of ancestors and those I’m researching. Here are five tips to get the most out of family history tombstone tourism. 

Plan your visit. Make a note of names, dates and plot numbers. Check cemetery opening times – not all are open 24/7. There may be a useful cemetery website, a church or local authority contact point. 

See if there’s a map of the cemetery showing plot sections and plot numbers. Are there separate sections for different religious denominations e.g. a consecrated section for Church of England burials, and an unconsecrated area for other denominations? Even within the unconsecrated sections, there may be a clear division between Catholic and nonconformist areas. 

Some local authorities may, for a fee, be able to say who is buried in a particular plot and if there is a headstone. Many cemeteries have ‘Friends Of’ groups, or there may be a family history society who has made a note of Memorial Inscriptions. They too may have information databases.

Cemetery registers may be available. If possible, try to note details of other plots in the particular section you are seeking. Your plot of interest may not have a headstone, and grave markers can be obscured. But you may be able to pinpoint your ancestor’s unmarked burial place from the neighbouring headstones. 

Another tip is to check sites such as Find A Grave or BillionGraves and download the Apps. Their images and GPS may help in pinpointing a specific grave.

When you get to the cemetery don’t rush in. Take a general look to get an overview, establish bearings and see if the cemetery has identifiable sections depending on burial time period. 

Dress sensibly and come prepared. Cemeteries can be vast, and a visit can involve lots of walking. The ground is often uneven, and not all burial grounds are immaculately kept. They can be overgrown with long grass, thorns and tendrils whipping around your knee and ankles, all hiding lots of biting insects. In wet weather the long grass may soak through points of contact. So stout, comfortable walking shoes are the order of the day. No heels, canvas shoes or open toed-sandals. Long trousers too. If it’s hot weather slap on the sunscreen and fetch your water. Pack waterproofs in case of a sudden downpour. And take something to kneel on – your waterproofs (if you’re not using them!) Even something as simple as a plastic bag comes in handy here. Without an improvised kneeler, damp, muddy trouser knees can be an uncomfortable occupational hazard of headstone photography – I speak from experience!

Take a pencil and notebook to record findings (including negative) and to write out problematical inscriptions, indicating where the gaps or issues are. It’s like a transcription exercise! In fact it may be prudent to copy in full all important inscriptions in your notebook, in case there is a problem with photographs which goes unnoticed until your return home.

And, sad to say, do take sensible safety precautions. Cemeteries can be lonely places. So explore in daylight, accompanied if possible, and not carrying lots of expensive kit.

Photograph. I take multiple snaps on both my camera and phone camera.  If there’s a sign indicating cemetery name, that’s the first image. It signposts where the subsequent headstone images were taken. 

Next, I take images of the full headstone from various angles, followed by close-ups of the inscription. These close-ups can run into several images depending on the headstone size, and the number and length of inscriptions. I include images from both back, front and, if appropriate the sides of the headstone. And don’t ignore the base of the headstone, peaking out at ground level. All these areas may contain inscriptions or additional details. One good example of this was the headstone of the Hallas Family at Kirkburton All Hallows. The front of the grave includes details of my 5x great grandparents Amos and Ann Hallas. Low down it indicates the grave owner is George Hallas, my 4x great grandfather. The reverse of the headstone has a gem of an inscription about the bizarre and unexpected way their daughter Esther met her death in July 1817, which I wrote about in my first ever blog post.

Front and Back of the Hallas Headstone at Kirkburton All Hallows – Photo by Jane Roberts

Finally, I take wider shots to include neighbouring headstones. These too may have a connection, as family headstones may be grouped together.

Once back home I can play about with image settings and use various photo editor apps and programmes. Manipulating the images may help overcome inscription legibility issues. 

Don’t be tempted to clean the headstone unless you know exactly what you’re doing, and you have permission. It can be frustrating if an inscription is obscured by algae or lichen, or if weathering has faded lettering. But irreparable damage can be done to the headstone by trying to clean it using inappropriate methods and products, or using remedies such as flour or shaving foam to make the engraving legible. And do remember some plants are actually protected by law. I personally stick to nothing more than a light dousing with water to see if that removes headstone dirt or improves legibility. For me, going beyond that is simply not worth the risk.

Record findings and check information. Do this as soon as possible after your trip, and include the visit date. Graveyards and headstones change over the years. It’s easy to put this mundane chore off, so it becomes caught up in a huge work backlog. Then you forget what you’ve done and where you’ve saved the information. It may even get damaged, erased or permanently lost. All of which could create more work in the long run – through trying to find your original photographs and notes, or even duplicating the work through unnecessary repeat visits.

Also, do not automatically accept any inscription as gospel. Headstones are not official records, and even official records are not immune from errors! Headstones may post-date an individual’s death by some years, and details may be mis-remembered. As a result, ages, dates and information may be incorrect. I’ve seen countless examples of this. As with any other source, headstone inscriptions should be not used in isolation. Their accuracy should be weighed up against other sources.

Hopefully these tips will help you plan your next family history cemetery expedition.

Footnote: Another trick is using a reflective surface, or torch, to light inscriptions from different angles, which can help deciphering them. With thanks to Sue Adams of Family Folk

It has also been suggested don’t take your children with you. After the initial spurt of enthusiasm they can easily get bored!


Postscript:
Finally a big thank you for the donations already received to keep this website going. 

The website has always been free to use, but it does cost me money to operate. In the current difficult economic climate I am considering if I can continue to afford to keep running it as a free resource, especially as I have to balance the research time against work commitments. 

If you have enjoyed reading the various pieces, and would like to make a donation towards keeping the website up and running in its current open access format, it would be very much appreciated. 

Please click here to be taken to the PayPal donation link. By making a donation you will be helping to keep the website online and freely available for all. 

Thank you.

A Grave Plot: Rest In Peace?

One of my guilty pleasures is to wander round the local cemetery reading the inscriptions on headstones. I love a good old inscription. I can while away hours strolling along the pathways and across undulating ground, pausing to read the words or simply admire the beauty and variety of these monuments.  The joy that discovering a family headstone can bring is a thrill that many family historians will relate to. But I’m not fussy. Even if the family is unrelated to me, if the inscription captures my attention, I will research the story behind it. For example, see my post about a young couple from Batley who died as a result of a wartime seaside cliff fall.

I naively always assumed some kind of permanency with a headstone. That centuries later it would still stand, somewhat weather-worn but erect, a relic of a past era, a witness to a life long gone. But this ideal is far from true. Close to home I’ve witnessed it.

Early 20th Century Postcard of Batley Parish Church Showing Headstones – from Maggie Blanck’s Website at http://www.maggieblanck.com/Land/PhotosBatley.html

The claustrophobic jumble of headstones at All Saints Parish Church in Batley have long since gone. Similarly Mirfield St Mary’s Churchyard lost many of its old headstones, including that of my 5x great grandparents. I only know of it’s existence from a 19th century handwritten transcript of Memorial Inscriptions (MIs), via the Yorkshire Archaeological and Historical Society (YAHS) whose archives are now located in the Brotherton Library, University of Leeds. A local car business on Staincliffe Hall Road, Batley, on the site of a former Methodist Chapel, had the graveyard headstones in its driveway. I clearly remember seeing them as a child, when the Chapel was converted to a baby clinic. More recently they have vanished. I’m not quite sure when, but I would love to know what became of them. One small crumb of comfort is it appears MIs do exist for them, again via the YAHS. Even councils are not immune to headstone destruction. In 2011 Kirklees was criticised for a money-saving scheme whereby headstones, with inscriptions clearly visible, were recycled to build a wall in Netherton.

Weathered Headstones at Tynemouth Priory – Photo by Jane Roberts

Even if they remain in situ, exposure to the elements may take their toll over time, wearing inscriptions to illegibility. They may be laid flat by councils if they are deemed unstable and potentially dangerous. Batley Cemetery, for example, is undergoing a memorial safety programme. I spent 15 unsuccessful minutes on hold with Kirkless Bereavement Services trying to find out what this entailed. From my visit to the cemetery often this means the headstones are frequently placed face-down, so those carefully thought-through lasting tributes are hidden forevermore. And with burial plots decreasing in availability, particularly in urban areas, many local authorities are looking at alternative strategies for public cemeteries. Then there is deliberate vandalism.

Batley Cemetery Headstones – Photo by Jane Roberts

One thing I did not realise until arranging dad’s funeral is the terms under which burial plots are owned. I mistakenly believed if you bought a burial plot it belonged to the family for ever. Not so. You are merely leasing the plot. In the case of Kirklees Council the lease term is 50 years. Some local authorities have leases of as little as 25 years. The maximum is 100 years. In short you are purchasing the exclusive right to say who will be buried in that grave for a set period. The family can choose to renew the lease for a fee. For this reason it is important to keep address and contact details up-to-date with the relevant council bereavement services.

If the lease is not renewed, the headstone can be removed and collected by the owner – or destroyed by the local authority. Existing burials in the plot are not removed or disturbed, but remaining space in the plot may be resold.  So, with space for burial plots running low, the permenancy of headstones faces an extra threat.  Southwark Council, for example, face opposition to their cemetery plans with claims by Friends of Camberwell Cemeteries  that they are a ‘Grave Reuse and Reclamation Burial Strategy‘.

All this means the work of Family History Society volunteers, cemetery friends groups, those conducting one-place studies, projects such as BillionGraves and individuals in recording MIs will become ever more valuable. For example the Mirfield St Mary’s ones I mentioned earlier in this piece are included on the Kirkheaton Info Archive Database.

So do not assume that headstone will be there for ever. Photograph it now and make a note of that inscription just in case. And check out various archives, one-place studies websites, cemetery groups and Family History Societies for MI transcripts.