Tag Archives: Huddersfield

Forever England, Forever Yorkshire. One Small CWGC Cemetery in Belgium

To paraphrase Rupert Brooke’s immortal words, “there’s some corner of a foreign field that is forever” …….. the Colne Valley. Or more precisely Colne Valley Cemetery. I stumbled upon this small cemetery in Belgium on my March 2018 visit to the Ypres Salient.

When visiting the Great War Battlefields I prioritise walking over driving, and my latest visit was no exception. I clocked up in excess of 120 miles on foot. It’s by far the best way to see the battlefields and get a real feel for the lie of the land, the high ground, the open expanses over which the troops attacked, their vulnerability and visibility to defending forces, and the distances involved. I tend to mix and match walks from various books. I also use a Linesman, with its GPS and trench map overlays, to plot exactly where I am in relation to the trenches and front lines of a century ago. For more details about the Linesman, please read my earlier post.

One of the books I used on my latest visit, Paul Reed’s ‘Walking the Salient’, included an Yser Canal walk in Chapter 3 which referenced the intriguingly named Colne Valley Cemetery. The walk actually stopped short of it, but I pushed on.

Colne Valley Cemetery – by Jane Roberts

The cemetery is located near the village of Boezinghe (or Boesinghe as it was known during the War). For most of the War, the east side of the village directly faced the German front line. Holding the British line here was dangerous, with regular casualties from German artillery and sniper fire. The cemetery, just south of the protruding German trench known as Caesar’s Nose, was started by men of the Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding Regiment) in July 1915. Territorial battalions of this regiment formed part of the 49th (West Riding) Division. In a nod to their Yorkshire home, Colne Valley, Skipton Road and Huddersfield Road were names given to nearby 49th Division trenches. The cemetery was in use until February 1916. Of the 47 First World War burials here, 30 of the graves are of officers and men of the West Riding Regiment.

Colne Valley both

Trench Maps of area from July 1915 (L) and July 1917 overlaid against modern map (R) showing location of Yorkshire named trenches in 1915 and Colne Valley Cemetery (green highlight)

Looking at the burials, three of the men were from the Huddersfield area, all serving with the 1/7th (Colne Valley) Battalion of the Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding Regiment). Two of these, Pte Fred Clough (service number 7/1913), and Pte Ernest Butterworth (service number 7/2165), were the first men to be buried in the cemetery, which fittingly bears the Colne Valley name by which their Territorial Battalion was commonly known. Perhaps the fact these first two burials were of Colne Valley Battalion men played a part in the naming of the cemetery, as much as the nearby trench name?

Official records note their deaths as taking place on Monday 12 July 1915. However, the confusion of record keeping in war can be gauged from other sources. The Battalion’s Unit War Diary, a daily record of their overseas activities, names other ranks as well as officers who were killed in action in these early days. The majority of Unit War Diaries (but by no means all) only name officers who died. It indicates both Fred and Ernest’s deaths took place on 11 July 1915, the Sunday. Newspaper reports add another twist, referring to Pte Clough’s death as taking place on the Sunday (‘Huddersfield Daily Examiner’ 16 July 1915, ‘Yorkshire Post & Leeds Intelligencer’ and ‘Sheffield Daily Telegraph’, 17 July 1915 editions), and Pte Butterworth’s on the Monday (‘Huddersfield Daily Examiner’ 15 July 1915 edition).

Fred Clough was born in the Quarmby area of Huddersfield on 12 September 1890, and baptised the following month at St Stephen’s, Lindley. His parents were woollen weaver Harry Clough and his wife Sarah Jane (née Marsden). The couple’s other children included Lily (born 1888), Minnie (1892), Florence (born 1895, but died the following year), Herbert (born 1898, died 1912) and Marian (1905).

By 1911 the family were living at East Street, Lindley, with Fred now working as a small wire drawer. This occupation involved drawing metal through a series of dies or templates to produce wire. At the time of signing his 7th West Riding Regiment Territorial Force attestation papers at Milnsbridge on 3 September 1914, Fred was employed by Messrs. Joseph Sykes Bros., a wire card clothing manufacturer, in their Acre Mills at Lindley.

Territorial Forces were usually exempt from serving overseas but days later, as part of his enlistment, he agreed to serve outside the U.K. if a national emergency so required. After home training, he and the rest of the Battalion left Doncaster on 14 April 1915 bound for Folkestone. They set sail for Boulogne on board the ‘Manchester Importer’, arriving at 4.30 a.m. the following day.

Their early weeks were spent in France, before they moved to Belgium arriving at St-Jan-ter-Biezen on 30 June 1915. They, along with the rest of the 49th Division, were to take over trenches in the area north of Ypres around Boesinghe, along the Yser Canal.

The diary for July 1915 records active enemy trench mortar and regular shelling including, on 10 July, a gas shell hitting a dugout which affected 29 men from ‘C’ Company. Fortunately none of the gas-affected men were classed as ‘very bad’. These days of noted enemy activity were interspersed by others recorded as ‘quiet’, or having ‘no incident’.

Fred was killed in action on a day described in the Unit War Diary as ‘fairly quiet’. In addition to Fred, it was the day Pte Butterworth lost his life, and an officer plus two or three other ranks were wounded. The officer, 2nd Lieutenant Beckwith from Huddersfield and of the local firm Messrs. Beckwith and Co., suffered a broken leg as a result of a shrapnel injury. Fred died instantly after being shot through the head and, according to the newspapers, he was buried on Monday (12 July 1915). As mentioned earlier, Monday is the day of his death according to official records. He was 24-years-old.

At the end of July, a Memorial Service was held at the Lindley Zion United Methodist Church, which was attended by many of his former work colleagues.

Fred Clough’s Headstone at Colne Valley Cemetery – by Jane Roberts

Ernest Butterworth was the son of Holmfirth woollen manufacturer Alfred Henry Butterworth and his wife Alice Annie (née Hobson). He was born on 10 May 1889 and baptised the following month at the Holmfirth Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, which he remained associated with for the rest of his life. Alfred and Annie’s eldest child, Robert, was born in 1887, but he died in 1892. Their other children were Annie (born 1890), Norman (1892), Frank (1894), Marion (1897) and Herbert (1900).

In the 1911 census the family address was Park Riding, Holmfirth. Ernest followed his father into the family business of Messrs. H.S. Butterworth, at Lower Mills. He was also an active member of Holmfirth Liberal Club. Described as ‘of a homely and genial disposition’ he enlisted with the local Territorials a few days after Fred Clough, on 7 September 1914. He then followed the same path as Fred, arriving in France on 15 April 1915 and being killed in action in identical circumstances on the same day – dying instantaneously after being shot through the head. Corporal J.R. Bower and his Commanding Officer wrote to his family with details. The family also received his personal effects, which included his disc, belt, letters, pipe, photo, diary and pouch.

The Butterworth family suffered a further blow in 1917, when another son, Norman, lost his life whilst serving King and country. 2nd Lieutenant Butterworth, of the Royal Flying Corps, was killed in action on 9 May 1917 during a dogfight with German aircraft.

Headstone of Ernest Butterworth at Colne Valley Cemetery – by Jane Roberts

The third Huddersfield and District burial in Colne Valley Cemetery is that of Pte Herbert Lionel (Bertie) Broadbent, (7/2240), killed in action on 30 July 1915.

The ‘Huddersfield Daily Examiner’ of 3 August 1915 reported his death. It included a letter to his parents at their Woodfield Terrace, Bankfield Road home, from Captain C.H. Lockwood. He was the officer commanding Bertie’s ‘C’ Company of the 7th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding Regiment), the Company affected by the 10 July gas shelling incident. The letter read:

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Broadbent, It is with the greatest regret that I have to inform you of the death of your son, who was killed early this morning whilst on duty. He was shot through the head by a sniper and death was instantaneous. I wish to convey to you on behalf of the officers, N.C.O.s, and men of this company our deepest sympathy in your great loss. Your son was an excellent and an efficient bomber; he was one who will not be easily replaced. It will be some consolation to you when you remember that your son died doing his duty for King and country. He is to be buried tonight by the side of some of his comrades. Lieutenant Netherwood, our bombing officer, wishes me to convey his sympathy to you.”

Bertie was just 16 years old.

He was born in Huddersfield on 5 January 1899 and baptised the following month at Christ Church, Moldgreen. His father, Arthur, was a police Detective Officer, who by the time of Bertie’s death had risen to the rank of Superintendent, and Deputy Chief Constable of Huddersfield. His mother was Sarah Ann Broadbent (née Lodge). Their seven other children were Marion Drusilla (born 1891), Harry Arlom (circa 1893), Nellie Evelyn (1894), Charles Hartley (1896), Norah Kathleen (1901) and Richard Norman (1904) and John Arthur (1906).

Bertie enlisted on 14 September 1914, with an apparent age of 19 years and three months. His 6’1″ height abetted the blind eye of the recruiting officer to sign up as many men (and boys) as possible. He was 15. What struck me was the 1911 census for the Broadbent family. It showed 12-year-old Bertie still at school. Yet a little over three years later he was a soldier.

By the time of his attestation he’d been working for around 18 months in the Lindley-based Acres Mills wire drawing department of Messrs. Joseph Sykes Bros., Ltd. This was the same firm which employed Fred Clough. He was one of a number of youths apprenticed with the firm who enlisted at the same time. Like Fred and Ernest, Bertie signed the Territorial Force forms committing him to four years U.K. service, then signed the waiver form allowing overseas posting.

After training, initially in the Colne Valley, then Riby in Lincolnshire, and finally Doncaster, on 14 April 1915 he left for France with the rest of his Company.

Again the Unit War Diary described the day on which Bertie died as ‘quiet’. In addition to his death, 30 July 1915 saw only one other rank wounded.

Herbert Lionel (Bertie) Broadbent’s Headstone at Colne Valley Cemetery – by Jane Roberts

Colne Valley cemetery is full of headstones with poignant inscriptions. I wish I had time to research all the men buried there. For instance one man is 38-year-old Sedbergh-born John Middleton Morphet of the 1/6th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding Regiment). The Lance Corporal was killed in action on 22 August 1915. In civilian life he had a multi-faceted sporting career. The school attendance officer, who latterly lived in Settle, included playing cricket for Hawes and Settle, and football for Burnley, Lincoln City and Aston Villa amongst his sporting achievements.

Headstone of Lance Corporal John Middleton Morphet, Colne Valley Cemetery – by Jane Roberts

I am so glad I found this cemetery. It is off the beaten track and the surroundings are slightly off-putting. It is near an industrial estate. The sound of bird scaring shots cracked thorough the air at regular intervals. It also appears to be located next to a composting area, with mounds of steaming, stinking compost clearly visible on the first day we visited. These are seen in the photograph below. I returned the following day, and the aroma was not quite so pungent. And perhaps in summer the tree foliage will blot out the view of these mini mountains.

Colne Valley Cemetery – by Jane Roberts

But it is a cemetery which the CWGC, supported by Province of West Flanders, spent a great deal of money, time and effort restoring in 2014. The industrialisation of the surrounding area resulted in the cemetery being the lowest point in the area and consequently affected by serious, regular flooding. The restoration work included raising the ground level by some 1.2 metres and installing pumping. Thankfully, it seems to have worked. And, as the headstone of Corporal G.W. Lloyd of The Rifle Brigade indicates, in another take on Rupert Brooke’s poem “This Spot is Forever England’s

img_7824-1

Headstone of Corporal G.W. Lloyd, The Rifle Brigade, at Colne Valley Cemetery – by Jane Roberts

UPATE
Thanks to David for sending me some photographs of Colne Valley Cemetery taken in June 2018. The tree cover has indeed worked wonders and it looks absolutely beautiful.

Sources:

  • Walking Ypres’ – Paul Reed
  • Trench Map 1:10000 28NW2 – NoEd – 210715 – St Julien – S
  • Trench Map 1:10000 28NW2 – Edn 6A – Pub July 1917 – Trenches corrected to 30 June 1917
  • Commonwealth War Graves Commission Website – https://www.cwgc.org/
  • 1891-1911 Censuses – various for each family, via Ancestry and FindMyPast websites
  • GRO Indexes for birth registration of various children, via GRO website
  • Soldiers’ Documents, Fist World War Burnt Documents for Fred Clough, Ernest Butterworth and Herbert Lionel Broadbent – The National Archives, TNA Ref WO 363, via FindMyPast
  • Baptism Register for Lindley St Stephen’s – Fred Clough’s baptism,via Ancestry’s West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Births and Baptisms, 1813-1910. Origianals at West Yorkshire Archives Ref WDP 129/1/1/1
  • Baptism Register for the Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, Holmfirth Circuit for Ernest Butterworth’s baptism, via Ancestry’s West Yorkshire Non-Conformist Records, 1646-1985. Originals at West Yorkshire Archives Ref C73/11/1
  • Baptism Register for Christ Church Moldgreen – Herbert Lionel Broadbent’s baptism, via Ancestry’s West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Births and Baptisms, 1813-1910. Originals at West Yorkshire Archives Ref WDP 206/1/1/1
  • ‘Huddersfield’s Roll of Honour 1914-1922’ – J Margaret Stansfield, Edited by Reverend Paul Wilcock BEM
  • Unit War Diary for the 1/7th Duke of Wellington’s (West Riding Regiment) – The National Archives, TNA Ref WO 95/2802/1 – via Ancestry
  • Huddersfield Daily Examiner’ – 15 July 1915, 16 July 1915, 28 July 1915 and 3 August 1915, via FindMyPast
  • Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer’ – 17 July 1915 and 4 August 1915, via FindMyPast
  • Leeds Mercury’ – 4 August 1915, via FindMyPast
  • Sheffield Daily Telegraph’ – 17 July 1915, via FindMyPast
  • Craven’s Part in the Great War Website – John Middleton Morphet, http://www.cpgw.org.uk/soldier-records/john-middleton-morphet/
  • Family Marks the Centenary of the Death of one of Craven’ Greatest Sportsmen’ by Lindsey Moore, 27 August 2015 – Craven Herald Website Article http://www.cravenherald.co.uk/NEWS/13630003.Family_marks_the_centenary_of_the_death_of_one_of_Craven_s_greatest_sportsmen/

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.

Child Employment in the Silk Industry 1815-1871 – Part 1

Once you get into your family history, you progress from names and dates to finding about the lives and times of your ancestors. Their employment is a significant part of this discovery process, because it formed a big part of their lives. And although not quite cradle to grave, this work was often from early childhood.

The first time l looked at censuses in any detail was over 30 years ago to produce an analysis of child employment in the silk industry between 1815-1871. Although I do have ancestors in the textile industry, so far I’ve not discovered any in the silk branch. 

It was also the first time I looked at the various parliamentary inquiries into child employment, and discovered what a wealth of information they supplied about working conditions and employment practices. And this in the words of those involved – employers and employees. So a name-rich source to which you may find an ancestor gave evidence. But even if you don’t find your ancestor named, they provide a fantastic insight into their work and conditions.

I’m going to share a summary of this essentially old pre-Internet piece of research (updated with some more recent information) in case it helps anyone else: Either directly for those with silk industry antecedents; or indirectly to show what type of occupational information can be gleaned from primary sources.

It is quite lengthy so I will split it into four posts. The research covers:

  • a general overview of the industry;
  • the nature of the work; and
  • the reasons for, and decline of, child employment in this area.

I will also look at the Factory Acts, and the reasons why initially they only had the partial inclusion of child silk workers.

Background
I chose 1815 as the starting point, as the end of the Napoleonic Wars marked a significant date for the English silk industry, paving the way for free trade and the lifting of protectionism. The years 1815-1820 also marked a period of recession with an influx of returning soldiers seeking employment driving wages down. And, although there was protectionism at this start point, more goods were sneaking in to the country once the Napoleonic Wars ended. 1871 is the finishing point as it coincides with the first census after the passing of the 1870 Education Act.

Silk weaving reached England on a small scale in the mid-fifteenth century. It developed in the mid-sixteenth century when Spanish religious persecutions forced Flemish weavers to seek refuge in the Spitalfields area of London. However it was not until the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, which forced the French Protestant Huguenots to flee the country, that the English silk industry took off in any big way. The refugees included many skilled silk workers from Tours and Lyons, and these too settled in the Spitalfields area.

In this period the industry was domestic in nature. Manufacturers employed weavers as outworkers and supplied them with yarn. These weavers then spun it on their own looms in their own homes or workshops and took the finished product back to the manufacturer who inspected and weighed it, docked money for imperfections, and paid the weaver.

With the patent in 1718 of Thomas Lombe’s silk machine, which converted the filaments of raw silk into yarns and threads, the final main obstacle to English silk production was removed. Previously the silk weaving industry had to import expensive thrown silk. Now the raw silk could be imported and then turned into thrown silk in England. A rapid expansion of the silk throwing industry followed the expiration of Lombe’s patent rights in 1732. This led to the increased development of purpose-built silk throwing and spinning mills.

Yet even after this date the home-based character of silk-weaving branch continued. Factory weaving did take place though, especially from the 1820s onwards when Jacquard mechanisms attached to looms enabled the weaving of ever more complex patterns. Often these were too large for a domestic situation. This, along with the development of power looms, led to an increase in factory based weaving bringing the processes of silk throwing (spinning), warping, dyeing and weaving under one roof.

The protectionist attitude of the attitude of the British government meant between 1765-1826 fully manufactured silk imports were prohibited and duties on other silks were proportionately high. This gave an impetus the English industry. However this protectionism came to an end in 1826 when the importation of foreign silk goods became legal. Despite the levy of a duty of around 30% on Continental goods, it still posed a treat to the English industry, especially given the superior quality of French silks.

The main areas of the silk industry in the 19th century were Lancashire and Cheshire, particularly around Manchester and Macclesfield. Other significant centres included Derby, London and Coventry.

How many children in the silk industry and what did they do?
For this I looked at the census figures as well as various Select Committees and Royal Commissions investigating child employment in general. The numbers of children involved in silk manufacturing compared to the overall total population are shown in Tables 1-3. Whilst Table 1 is not directly comparable, being for Great Britain rather than England & Wales, it is illustrative. They show that the silk industry underwent a gradual but noticeable decline in adult as well as child employment. Numbers were skewed towards female operatives. Also in 1851 and 1861, when looking at overall data, the peak age for those employed in silk manufacture across both sexes was the 15- Quinquennial band.

Table 4, from the Factories Inquiry Commission supplementary report of 1834, shows figures from a sample of silk factories in Manchester, Macclesfield and Congleton employing 5,260 operatives. Children were almost exclusively employed in the throwing departments. Their principal job was tying knots when the silk thread broke, each child being in charge of a certain number of threads. Various Select Committees examining child labour in factories reported on this. In 1816-17 it was estimated that a child was in charge of about 20 threads; by 1831-32 this has doubled “on account of the competition which exists between masters; one undersells the other, consequently the master endeavours to get an equal quantity of work done for less money.” By the time of the 1866 report into children’s employment it was down to 12.The children also had an element of responsibility, being accountable for the thread which passed through their hands. This was high value especially when compared to others textiles. Even if the silk was of a good quality that it would not break so often, still a great deal of vigilance was required.

A good description of the jobs children were employed in is provided by James Sharpley for the silk throwsters Messrs Brocklehurst who operated mills in Huddersfield and Macclesfield. As reported in the “Royal Commission on Children Employed in Factories: Supplementary Report” published in 1834 he described their work and progression. “The processes of silk working ascend in difficulties of management, winding being the first and easiest; it is best and cheapest performed by children under twelve years, and thus requires also the most numerous body of workers; about twelve years of age many of the most expert are advanced to the next and more difficult processes, that is, the girls to the cleaning the silk thread, doubling several threads together, etc; and at fourteen or fifteen many of the girls are again advanced to the winding and warping the dyed silk for the weavers, which are the highest kinds of employment; the boys at fourteen are often promoted to the throwing mills, and at sixteen many of them learn to weave silk.

Spinning, twisting and throwing were all used to describe the formation of a rope-like twist of the silken filament, to give it strength. It could be undertaken by machine or hand. A description of the hand process can be found in Lord Ashley’s (the later Earl of Shaftesbury) Royal Commission of Inquiry into the Employment of Children. Sub-commissioner Samuel Scriven described it as such in 1841:

For twisting it is necessary to have what are designated shades which are buildings of at least 30 or 35 yards in length, of two or more rooms, rented separately by one, two or four men having one gate and a boy called a helper… the upper storey is generally occupied by children, young persons or grown women as ‘piecers’, ‘winders’ and ‘doublers’ attending to their reels and bobbins, driven by the exertions of one man… He (the boy) takes first a rod containing four bobbins of silk from the twister who stands at his gate or wheel, and having fastened the ends, runs to the ‘cross’ at the extreme end of the room, round which he passes the threads of each bobbin and returns to the ‘gate’. He is despatched on a second expedition of the same kind, and returns as before, he then runs up to the cross and detaches the threads and comes to the roller. Supposing the master to make twelve rolls a day, the boy necessarily runs fourteen miles, and this is barefooted.

Hand Silk Throwing/Spinning – The Penny Magazine Vol 12, April 1843


Other jobs included “warp picking“, that is taking small defects out of the threads of warp before the weaver receives it; picking up waste; acting as helpers to weavers; or winding in a domestic situation.

For more information about the silk industry and its process “The Penny Magazine” Volume 12 April 1843 has an article “A Day at  Derby Silk Mill.

By this period the silk industry was principally a factory occupation. However it did still exist in a domestic form too. I’ve already referred to the weaving side. But silk throwing, the twisting of the tread of silk from the cocoon which takes the place of spinning, could still be undertaken in the home and sent to the factories for finishing and weaving. In the same 1834 publication J.S. Ward of Bruton, Somerset, mentioned that, besides his factory employees, he employed women and children winding and twisting silk in their own homes. The raw silk was given to the undertaker who would be engaged by the factory to return the silk full weight wound, doubled or twisted. These undertakers would in turn sub-let this work “hence it is that almost every house becomes a domestic manufactury, the husband, the wife, and their children….being occupied in the upper room which is devoted to the purposes of winding, doubling or weaving.” This practice still thrived into the 1860’s.

Besides being engaged as outworkers, children also played a part in handloom weaving. In the silk industry this still continued. For intricate, top quality pieces the handloom was superior to the power loom, due to the delicacy of the material. Outworkers who own looms worked by the piece for manufacturers. Children did not weave, but wound for the family. Children were generally taken from school at around the ages of nine or ten to do this.

Looking at the growing factory branch of the industry, the ages at which children were employed is shown in Tables 1-3. However these are only from 1851 onwards and it is necessary to look at parliamentary papers to get an idea about ages prior to this year. In 1816-17 it appears that children worked from the age of six. By the raft of reports in the 1830’s this increased to eight.  Table 4 (above) and Table 5 (below) give a flavour.
Even in the 1866 report into children’s employment H.W. Lord found cases of children aged eight working, though more typically it was nine. Some manufacturers in the 1830’s claimed their practice was not to take children under the age of nine or ten, but often parents would deceive them. George Senior, from the silk firm of William Harter in Manchester, said “the parents always tell the children to answer ‘going ten’ when they are asked their ages” and Stephen Brown, of Colchester, backed this up.

In my next post I will examine in more detail the ages, wages, working conditions and health of these child silk industry workers.

Child Employment in the Silk Industry 1815-1871 – Part 2

In the first part of my look at child workers in the silk industry between 1815-1871 I gave a brief background to this industry, looked at the numbers involved and the types of job. In this part I will cover their ages, wages, working conditions and health impacts.

Why did employers take children of this age?
First and foremost it was permissible under the Factory Acts. However there were a number of other reasons.

Factory owners believed the younger the children began to work, the better workers it made them. In 1834 J.S. Ward, who preferred to take eight year olds, but did admit to employing them as young as seven, said “children who are taught early make the best hands.

Furthermore quick, nimble fingers were needed to tie knots, a skill in which children had the advantage over adults.

They were also cheap. Factory owners, particularly in the 1830’s, exhibited a great concern for wages. In the 1820’s there had been a progressive lowering of duties on foreign silk products which caused a depression in the English silk industry. The mill owners argued that since they had been brought into competition with foreign countries with there much cheaper labour and production costs, child employment was imperative in order to keep production costs down and enable competition: young children were necessary. “A child above 12 would generally take double the time to learn as one under, and their wages would be higher whilst they were learning and getting us nothing” claimed William Upton Lester of G.M. Lester & Sons, Newcastle-Under-Lyme in the 1834 Factories Inquiry Commission supplementary report. In fact some mill owners argued a greater number of under 12s needed to be employed as a consequence. Adult wages could not be afforded.

A final reason has already been hinted at, with parental duplicity over children’s ages. In 1816-17 obliging the parents was the most common reason given for child employment. The fact that parents were prepared to lie over their children’s ages to obtain for them mill work shows this to be accurate. The parents “derived advantage from their earnings”.

Children played an important part in the family economy, making a contribution to the family finances. According to David Vincent child labourers had an awareness that their contributions could make a significant difference to the well-being of the family. This applied as much to those involved in domestic industries as to those in factories. They were to be loved and economically exploited.

What wages could a child expect to bring home?
Naturally this varied according to the child’s age, exact employment, period in time, and whether the work was conducted in a mill or domestic situation. A child who worked alongside a parent handloom weaver would not know how much he or she earned because the winding work was tied in with the parents’ earnings for the piece. A good handloom weaver could expect to earn 18s a week in the early 19th century. Generally though wages declined after 1815, and the influx of handloom weavers from the cotton industry added to the labour pool depressing wages further. For winders in a domestic situation supplying factories, payment was by the pound. Prior to 1829 they earned on average 2s per lb, but by 1831 thus decreased to 1s, with a good worker winding 2.5lbs per week.

In the factories wages varied from 1s-4s a week. Larger mills tended to pay more than smaller ones. Tables 6 & 7 illustrate wages in the mid 1820’s to 1830’s. Note the reduction in hours worked in Table 7, a result of the trade depression.

Besides helping with income, child participation in the family economy had two other functions:

  • It provided the child with a sense of identity and security; and
  • The child was nurtured and trained

These functions were only fully achievable in a domestic setting. In industry it broke down. The parent could not ensure the child was not taxed beyond his/her strength. Neither could the parent necessarily personally protect or train the child.

What were the working conditions and health effects?

Conditions in factories varied. Compared to the cotton industry, silk working did appear an healthier form of employment. According to contemporary descriptions silk manufacture “is a remarkably clean occupation, produces no dust and is best carried on in a temperature that is agreeable to the feelings.

To start with the temperature was constant at about 50 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Silk production required no obvious excess of heat, so the workers could ventilate the room to their own taste. According to the Factories Inquiry Commission Supplementary Report 1834 “A moderate temperature is best for silk work 50 degrees  to 60 degrees; either too hot or too cold makes the silk brittle. If it is too warm the gum flies off and the weight is lost; too cold and the thread becomes too brittle and breaks.

Punishment was a feature of work, though it varied from factory to factory. The majority imposed fines for misdeeds. Most factory owners said they did not sanction corporal punishment, though did admit to occasionally using sticks across the shoulders. But the comparatively high value of silk against other textiles did influence punishment, as waste of silk was costly. There is definite evidence of harsh treatment were waste was perceived.

The hours of work also varied from factory to factory, and during different periods of time. As we have seen from Table 7 depression meant short time. James Sharpley, of Brocklehursts, said hours varied from six upwards, depending on the fluctuations in the silk industry business.

Early in 1833 children in his factory worked about eight hours 40 minutes a day. The number of days varied too. In 1831 some factories only worked four days a week. But when demand was good excess hours were needed “since the free trade system the work is naturally very irregular, for if a little demand rises we are so afraid of competition that we work day and night to be first in the market…..which creates an over stock, and then we are not able to work above three or four days per week.” Therefore the very precarious nature of the silk industry made it difficult to compute hours.

In normal trade circumstances, children worked anything between 10 to 12 hours a day. The usual hours were from 6am to 6pm with one and a half hours for meals. Night work was rare before 1833 and after prohibited under the Factory Act. Nevertheless in smaller winding sheds “it is not unusual to work from 6am to 6pm or even 10pm.

The manufacturers claimed that the work was not laborious and the children had plenty opportunity to test. The children claimed the hours were excessive and they felt tired, even though the work was not heavy. A typical comment from a child worker, Ann Barnwell, was “Think the work hard, it tired me very much at first but it don’t now, got used to it.

It is difficult to judge the reality because both groups had an interest: the manufacturers didn’t want children to work less hours as it would increase production costs in an industry already susceptible to trade fluctuations. So it suited them to play down any impact to health brought about by hours and conditions; and child operatives would themselves be the beneficiaries shorter hours if they were deemed excessive. The issue is further complicated looking at it from the standards we employ today. But put into perspective a child of nine or ten working in the silk industry was working longer than most adults in today’s society.

Other than the inevitable fatigue, the commonly held view was that the health impacts on children of working in the silk industry were comparatively benign. Even in 1866 Assistant Commissioner H.W. Lord in the 1866 report into child employment wrote that the occupations of winding and piecing “seem to be quite harmless.

The medical inspections of the mills appear to back up this belief. John Fleet, a Macclesfield doctor described the silk-trade as an extremely healthy employment. In his letter to the 1831 letter to the Factories Inquiry Commission he went on to write “…..the temperature of the rooms is regulated according to the comfort of the parties employed in them, they are clear from dust, are I odorous and well ventilated….I find it is a popular impression, the deformity of the spine and distortion of limbs is brought on by employment in the silk business; nothing can be more erroneous than this supposition.

In a letter to the same Inquiry John Braithwaite, another Macclesfield medical man,wrote “…..of all the factories with which I am acquainted, those in the silk-trade are the least prejudicial to the people engaged in them……The children engaged in these factories, for the most part, have the appearance of health, happiness, cleanliness, and contentment;

And George Senior, on behalf of Harter’s in Manchester wrote “It is generally said that they [parents] prefer silk mills; the work is cleaner and there is no flue flying about.

adam fletcher

Silk Mills and Church, Derby by Moses Griffiths, 1747-1809 [Public Domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Tables 8 and 9 below chart a series of medical examinations conducted in 1833. These show overwhelmingly health in silk mills to be far better than cotton factories. Of course it is possible that these medical examinations were fixed to the extent that factory owners sent sickly children home for the day. However if this practise took place in silk mills, it would be logical to assume cotton mills did the same: yet cotton mills had a comparatively much worse record of health. It can be therefore taken that the tables provide a relatively accurate comparison of health in the two industries. But that does not mean the employment was not detrimental to health.

 

Condemnation of health did occur. When examined in 1832 Daniel Fraser, warping department manager at John Fisher & Co silk mill at Huddersfield was critical. He described silk mill girls in the throwing department, saying “contrasted with other children, they appear pale, their eyes are sunk, they are thinner in flesh and altogether they seem deteriorated.

It was also stated that those children not brought up in a factory system were more healthy. That’s the bottom line. The factory system, whatever branch, was fatiguing, unhealthy, dangerous and children were subjected to harsh treatment.

In my next post I will examine in more detail the Factory Acts of 1833, 1844 and 1847 and their impact on child employment in the silk industry.

Death by Lightning

I always remember as a child my parents would insist on having both the front and back doors open during a thunderstorm just in case a lightning bolt came down the chimney. I am not sure how common the open-door policy was in other households, but I assume it was adopted so that the bolt could exit the house.

To be honest I have never been too keen on lightning myself. And I remember the inconvenience once when both my modem and computer were rendered beyond economic repair following a lightning strike. Perhaps my mistake was to keep the doors shut!

But this was a minor nuisance in comparison to the tale I discovered in my family tree.

My five times great-grandfather was Amos Hallas. Born in the West Riding village of Lepton, near Huddersfield, in around 1754 he was baptised at St John the Baptist, Kirkheaton later that year. He married Ann (Nanny) Armitage in the neighbouring parish of Kirkburton in August 1780 and the couple set up home at Highburton, a hamlet within the parish and township of Kirkburton. This is around five miles from Huddersfield.

The predominant industry of this region was woollen textile manufacture, and Amos was described a fancy weaver. The area around Kirkburton was known for its fancy woven waistcoat fabrics so it is likely that Amos was engaged in this skilled occupation.

These were difficult times for the textile workers as the period marked the early stages of the transition from domestic to factory-based operations, with 1776 marking the introduction of the first spinning jenny locally in the Holmfirth district. This was closely followed by the first scribbling engine being set up in around 1780 at Ing Nook Mill.[1] By the end of the eighteenth century with the abundance of coal in the West Riding and the introduction of steam power the stage was well and truly set for the transformation of the area’s textile industries.

At the same time this was the period of economic hardship with Britain at war with France almost continuously from 1793 until Napoleon’s defeat by the Duke of Wellington in the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.

Alongside the threat of invasion, the French sealed off British exports to continental Europe, a campaign designed to cripple the economy. It nearly succeeded, British exports slumped with handloom weavers, such as Amos, the first to be affected. Unemployment and food prices soared.

This toxic twin cocktail of industrialisation and economic distress was the fuel for the rise of the Luddites. From 1811-1816 these well organised gangs, smashed the new machines and burned down mills in an attempt to protect jobs. In 1812, the same year as Prime Minister, Spencer Percival, was shot dead by a ruined businessman a Marsden mill owner William Horsfall, known locally for his anti-Luddite stance, was also murdered. This event took place only around 11 miles away from Kirkburton/Highburton.

Troops were stationed locally to deal with the marches, riots and machine-wrecking which had become a regular feature of British life. 12,000 were sent to Yorkshire in 1812 to stop this industrial sabotage. At its peak there were around 1,000 soldiers based in Huddersfield alone to deal with the threat.

Kirkburton too, unsurprisingly, had its Luddite contingent. At the end of September 1812 residents John Smith and David Moorhouse were committed to York Castle on charges of “burglary under the colour of Luddism” resulting from a robbery at gunpoint at the home of another Kirkburton resident, Mr Savage, on 13 June 1812[2].

So this tumultuous period is the backdrop to the life and times that Amos and Ann Hallas brought their family up in.

Between 1780-1802 the couple had 13 children. 12 of these baptisms are recorded in the Kirkburton All Hallows parish register. The youngest child, baptism unrecorded in the register, has been identified from her marriage certificate, on the occasion of her second nuptials.

My four times great grandfather, George Hallas, born in around 1794 was their 9th child. But it is their 12th child, Esther, who suffered an unusual fate.

According to the parish register Esther was born on 27 July 1800 and baptised in the local church on 5 October 1800. She died only days before her 17th birthday. It is her burial record on 13 July 1817 at the same church which contains the helpful and fascinating notation: “killed by lightning”.

More in hope than expectation, I followed up this discovery with a visit to Kirkburton All Hallows church. My family of coal miners and textile workers are not normally associated with headstones. At the time of my visit there was no churchyard guide so it was a case of wandering round on the off chance of spotting something. Imagine my surprise when I discovered a Hallas headstone – and what was more it proved to be a very unusual one.

The headstone owner was George Hallas, my four times great grandfather. Inscriptions to his parents Amos and Ann Hallas are on the front of the headstone; and on the reverse of the headstone, very weather-worn, and difficult to read is, as far as I can make out, the following inscription about his sister Esther:

Here
lieth the Body of Esther
Daughter of Amos Hallas
of Highburton who was
Killed by A Thunder
Storm the 11th day of July
1817 aged 17 years.
Death little warning to me gave
And soon did take me to the grave
As I one day was set at meat
The lightening [sic] took me from my seat
To all who hear or may be told
both male and female young and old
May this my fate a warning be
Remember God, Remember me

So the epitaph makes cautionary, poetic reference to the manner of her death.

Since this initial visit the All Hallows Churchyard team have established a website with an inscription and location guide to the headstones[3] which is invaluable to those with Kirkburton ancestry.

Finally I looked to see if the events were covered in the newspapers at the time.  I did think this was a long shot given that they took place in 1817.  But I “struck” lucky with the “Leeds Mercury” of Saturday July 19 1817.  Obviously deaths by lightning strikes were as big news back then as they are today. The snippet is as follows:

“Yesterday se’nnight, a fatal accident took place at High Burton, near Huddersfield, during the thunder-storm on that day: The lightning struck the chimney of a house belonging to Mr Fitton, and having partially destroyed it, proceeded down the chimney, into the kitchen, and in its passage through which a servant girl was struck, and killed on the spot; the face of the clock was melted, and several panes in the window broken. Two men were also hurt by the lightning, but not dangerously”.

Esther was not named but I assume that she was the servant girl referred to. So a case of how an entry in a burial register, a headstone and a newspaper report came together to tell a story.

Esther’s father, Amos, died two years later in 1819 and her mother died in 1838, aged 82.

Reverse of Hallas headstone with Esther's inscription

Reverse of Hallas headstone with Esther’s inscription

Other Sources (not mentioned in main body):

[1] “The History and Topography of the Parish of Kirkburton and of the Graveship of Home, including Homfirth in the county of York” – Henry James Morehouse

[2] http://ludditebicentenary.blogspot.co.uk/

[3] Kirkburton Churchyard  website: http://kirkburtonchurchyard.co.uk/