The remains of
the late Mrs. Bland whose death we announced in our last issue, were deposited in
the New Hammersmith Cemetery Ground, on Wednesday last. Great repent was shown
in the neighbourhood of the deceased's late residence. This was the first burial
in the new cemetery, which is not yet consecrated, so that a special licence
had to be obtained for the burial. The coffin bore the following inscription
Hannah, wife of Robert Bland, died October, 1869, aged 56 years.
West London
Observer - Saturday 06 November 1869
On
a quiet summer Sunday morning, 27th August 1899, gravedigger Alfred Beaven was
doing his rounds of the Hammersmith cemetery perimeter. The first duty of Alfred’s
working day was to carry out a circuit of the boundary to pick up the rubbish
and refuse that uncouth local residents had thrown over the railings during the
previous evening and night, especially on the Margravine Road side of the
cemetery. At about 9.30, in amongst the
shrubs and bushes that bordered the Margravine Road wall, he found the remains
of what he at first assumed to be a dead animal before realising, with a shock,
that it was the decomposed body of a small child. He had done the same rounds
the previous day and was certain that the body had not been there then. Someone
must have thrown it over the wall into the bushes. The police were summoned and
P.C. James Brown, constable 352T, was despatched to investigate. Due to the
advanced state of decomposition he wrapped the tiny corpse in brown paper and
put it into a cardboard box to carry it to the nearby Fulham Mortuary. Someone
sent for the divisional police surgeon Dr. Edward Pattison, who interrupted his
Sunday lunch to come and examine the body. He carefully lifted the brown paper
package from the box and slowly unwrapped it. Inside he found little more than
a skeleton with a few vestiges of decayed flesh adhering to the bones. He told
Fulham Coroner’s Court two days later that judging by the size of the skeleton
he thought he was dealing with a two month old baby and the advanced stage of
decomposition led him to believe that death must have occurred four or five
months previously. He could not determine the cause of death nor even the sex of
the child. According to the West London Observer (01.09.1899) the Coroner, Mr
H. R. Oswald “reviewing the evidence,
said that the child, probably illegitimate, had been kept after death,
concealed until an opportunity offered itself of getting rid of its body by
throwing it over the cemetery wall. It was, he added, impossible that the
police could keep unremitting watch upon every street in the huge city, and
such a thing might be done without great difficulty.” The jury returned an
open verdict.
During hundreds of hours trawling through old
newspaper reports on cemeteries I had never before come across a story of a
dead baby being found in the cemetery grounds. It was even more surprising then
when I came across a further two incidents of staff finding dead babies in the
same cemetery. In 1906 a gardener at the cemetery, Charles Beaven, came across
the dead body of a newly born female wrapped up in a brown paper parcel tied up
with a boot lace. (Beaven? An unusual surname, but hang on a moment, wasn’t it
a Beaven that discovered the first body, seven years earlier? Alfred Beaven.
And wasn’t that body also wrapped up in brown paper? I feel a conspiracy theory
coming on.) Charles told the coroner, Mr Luxmoore Drew, that the previous
Saturday morning he had been cleaning up the rubbish and refuse thrown over the
railings on the Margravine Road side of the cemetery. He said that cats and
chickens were frequently thrown over the railings and that he had buried two
dead cats that morning. He had found the brown paper parcel later on, behind a
bush about 30 yards from the main entrance, and when he cut the boot lace
holding it together, had discovered the corpse of a naked little girl. The
police had been called and the body taken to the Fulham Mortuary where it had
been examined, according to the West London Observer, by “Dr. B. W. Lewis, Divisional surgeon of police residing at The Hermitage, Fulham Palace Road,” who “said when he saw the child it had been
dead about 36 hours. He made an autopsy, and ascribed death to asphyxia. The
jury returned an open verdict.” The third body was found in 1919; Police-Constable
Lawrence, 1718, told the Coroner, Douglas Cowhorn, that he had been called by
the cemetery superintendent to the West Lodge of the cemetery where he had been
handed a green attaché case which had been purportedly found by a gravedigger
(not a Beaven) earlier that day on at the base of a shrub, hidden by a slab of
concrete. The case was badly weathered but PC Lawrence took it the Lillie Road
police station before he opened it. Inside he found the skeleton of a fully grown
child wrapped in a red petticoat. Dr Falkner, divisional police surgeon had
examined the skeleton and told the coroner that he had concluded that the
deceased “had been dead some long time and it was impossible to say the cause
of death.” Once again the jury returned an open verdict.
The
Hammersmith cemetery, now generally known as the Margravine Cemetery, opened in
1869 and in November the recently deceased Mrs Bland was the first to find a
new home beneath the newly laid turf. Mrs Bland was lucky; if she had died at
any time in the previous 15 years she would have found herself buried in a
neighbouring parish as the prevaricating Hammersmith Vestry couldn’t make up
its mind where to site the new cemetery the Metropolitan Burial Act of 1852 required
it to open. The 1852 act prohibited the church and local authorities from
continuing to use the old overcrowded burial grounds and churchyards of London
and obliged them to open new cemeteries in more salubrious surroundings. The slow
moving Hammersmith Burial Grounds Committee considered many sites for the
vestry’s new cemetery, including Hampton, Tooting and Leatherhead but finally
settled on ten acres of land in Fulham Fields, which it bought for £600 in
September 1866. Two chapels and a mortuary were built on the landscaped grounds
(at a total cost of £15,104) and in November 1869 Mrs Bland was the first of
83,197 recorded burials in the cemetery. It closed for new business in 1951 and,
despite vigorous opposition from local people, was converted into a garden of
rest by the council. Most of the headstones and other memorials were either
removed or buried and much of the cemetery laid to grass. The memorials lining
the main path and other significant examples were left in situ and there are
some interesting and unusual late 19th and early 20th
century tombs including the throne of local undertaker James Frederick
Fletcher, the bolstered and pillowed bed of Sextus Gisbert Van Os, and the
bronze angel of George Boast.
The
cemetery was dogged with allegations of incompetence and mismanagement
throughout its working life. In the 1880’s there were several accusations that bodies had been buried in the
wrong grave. The Cornish telegraph reported,
in October 1880 on a “singular scene” which had occurred at the funeral of
George Spong. “When the mourners left their coach, and proceeded walk towards
the grave,” it said, “they were told
there had been some mistake as to the grave, but notwithstanding this they
proceeded, and the coffin was then deposited the wrong grave, and the clergyman
officiating had stop the midst of his reading, as the coffin would not down.
The wooden supports of the earth were knocked away, and the coffin was then
lowered with great difficulty. Next day
it was taken up again and placed in the proper grave.” In 1882 an applicant at Hammersmith
Magistrates Court complained to the sitting magistrate about the conduct of the
Burial Board. The applicant told the magistrate that he owned a private grave
at the cemetery and that without his consent the gravestone had been thrown
aside “in a careless manner” and the grave
had been opened and a person who just happened to have the same name was buried
there by the cemetery authorities. According to the Evening Standard of 21
August 1882 the applicant had written to the cemetery authorities to complain,
asking them to remove his erroneously interred namesake and to compensate him
for damage to the headstone. The cemetery manager had written back to express
his regret for the error but had not
offered compensation for the damaged memorial or, more seriously, taken any
action to remove the errant corpse. The magistrate was sympathetic but didn’t
feel he had legal powers to redress the situation. He suggested the applicant
consult a solicitor.
In
1898 Mr Marshall, “a well-known
resident of the trading community” according to the South Wales Echo, lost his
son Bertie in a drowning accident. When making the funeral arrangements he
selected and paid for a grave next to the well known local figure of Alice
Upton, “a well-known visitor of the sick and poor.” On the day of the funeral
there was such a press of family, friends and other mourners present at the
graveside that Mr Marshall did not note exactly where the grave was. Going back
to the cemetery on the following evening to see the wreaths he was furious to
discover that the grave was yards away from the plot he had purchased and that
several other graves “intervened between that of Sister Alice and Bertie.” When
Mr Marshall complained to Mr Cockburn the clerk to the Burial Board he was
blandly told that there was nothing that could be done without the permission
of the Home Secretary as only he had the power to order exhumations once a body
had been buried. Once the Home Secretary’s authority was received, Mr Cockburn
said, he would ensure that the re-interment was carried out at once. On the
rare occasion when the cemetery authorities managed to bury someone in the
right grave, the manner in which they were buried often left something to be
desired. In 1892 a correspondent who signed himself simply as Indignant wrote
to the Editor of the West London Observer “will you kindly allow me a small
space in your valuable paper to give vent to my indignation as regards the
method of burial at the Hammersmith Cemetery.” Indignant described how he had
attended the funeral of an esteemed friend who had serviced in the East, in
Canada and in the Crimea as a Grenadier Guard. When the coffin was lowered into
the grave it quickly became clear that the excavation was too small. The gravediggers
were called who knocked away the struts holding back the earth but even this
did not create enough clearance for the coffin to be successfully lowered. Finally
one of the gravediggers stood upon the coffin and jumped heavily on it several
times to force it into the grave. “I have heard that this has been done several
times before this,” Indignant wrote before hoping that “the proper authorities
will thoroughly sift this matter and prevent the same occurring in future.” 40
years later the complaints were still coming in. In 1931, EA Williams of 115
Fielding Road W4 was writing to the West London Observer again asking if “the
Hammersmith Cemetery staff [had] lost all respect for the dead?” The
correspondent had attended a funeral “never have I been forced to witness such
irreverent conducting of any sacred service” he said. “About four minutes
sufficed for the clergyman to hurl through one or two prayers and we were then
rushed to the grave, where beautiful flowers were absolutely torn off the
coffin and thrown on to the ground. Before the bearers could lower the coffin
into position, much less mourners gather at the graveside, the clergyman was
half-way through his “running commentary” and, not having heard half a dozen
words the mourners were left alone, wondering whether those whom God hath
called any longer command the respect of those who still have life!”
In
March 1888 the West London Observer described a bit of local colour under the
heading ‘A Costermonger's Funeral’.
The funeral took
place on Monday afternoon at Hammersmith Cemetery Miles Thomas Magee, aged 25,
a costermonger of Henrietta Place, who was found dead by Police-constable Cuff
in the front garden of 8, Mall Road, the 4th inst., and whose decease proved at
the inquest to due to rupture of the heart. A large crowd lined the Broadway
for some time, waiting for the funeral procession to pass, and so great was the
number of persons accompanying the cortege, which came along King Street that
several constables were placed on duty to control the traffic. The coffin,
which was of polished elm, with brass handles, was covered with a pall and some
beautiful wreaths of white flowers, and was carried on the shoulders of four
men, who were relieved at intervals along the route by numbers of willing
helpers. Ten couples walked behind the coffin, and after them came six
well-filled vehicles, one, a barrow drawn by a donkey. About a dozen constables
were stationed at the cemetery, where some hundreds of persons had assembled
before the arrival of the procession. A
disgraceful scene ensued after the mourners had entered the small cemetery
chapel. In their anxiety to gain admittance a regular struggle took place
amongst a number of men and lads, and when Mr. Bird, the superintendent, and a
police-constable found it necessary to close the doors endeavoured to force
them open. One personage, who was particularly prominent in attempting to open
the door, remonstrated with by several females made use of bad language, then
went away from the chapel door. The crowd behaved in an orderly manner at the
graveside. The funeral service was read by the Rev. F. B. Grant, chaplain of
the cemetery.
In
2016 the cemetery’s unique reception house was given grade II listed status. The
octagonal building was originally constructed in 1869 to house coffins prior to
burial. In a poor neighbourhood where residents threw dead cats, chickens and
babies over the cemetery walls, the bereaved often did not have sufficient
money to immediately bury their dead. This led to situations where the dead were
sometimes unhygienically stored at home until the next pay day (or even longer
if families were particularly strapped for cash). Edwin Chadwick in his 1843
report on public sanitation quoted a Whitechapel undertaker; “I have known them
to be kept three weeks: we every week see them kept until the bodies are nearly
putrid … and the poor people, women and children, are living and sleeping in
the same room at the same time.” As many families in the area already lived in
cramped and overcrowded conditions they barely had sufficient space for the
living. The reception house allowed storage of the dead in coffins until the
time of the funeral. The stone mortuary slabs on which the coffins rested are
still there inside and the building is the last remaining example in London.
On
the crisp sunny morning of my last visit to the cemetery a handful of ring
necked parakeets were making a huge racket in the trees, intriguing the
visitors and frightening the pigeons. For once I managed to get a picture. Not
a great one, but better than my usual efforts. Let’s finish with Adele B.
Campbell’s letter to the Inverness Courier, published 03 July 1891, about the
cemetery’s cat:
Sir, —I am a
frequent visitor at Hammersmith Cemetery, and having noticed a black cat there
constantly, I asked the manager for any information he could give. He tells me
this cat has been an inhabitant of the cemetery for about four years. It
followed the body of its mistress to this last resting place, and has remained
ever since, resisting all attempts to remove it. The manager has very kindly
had shelter provided for its protection from rain and cold, in a corner by the
church door. Here it may be seen, when not walking amongst the graves—walking
in a slow, grave manner, as if conscious that quicker motion would be
unsuitable. Its answer to notice is a faint mew, suppressed almost to whisper.
It is of singular appearance, being of brown shade of black over the body, with
head of deep black. Upon the face is something of mournful wistfulness. Poor
puss! Perhaps this look is caused by shadow of remembrance of bygone time when
it had a good mistress and rightful place by a cheerful kitchen fire. One
wonders does any sense of the sadness of the surroundings reach its
understanding. With this strangely faithful cat rubbing against one's dress,
one almost fancies it may have a dim instinct of sympathy with one's bereavement.—l
am, sir, yours etc.., Adele B. Campbell.
You have to wonder abou the dead babies, maybe Mr Beaven was taking a backhander and the last one his legasy. Think the Parakeets are doing a good job with the Pegeons. Lik eth estory of the black cat, a bit like Greyfriars Bobby
ReplyDeleteI wonder if the Beaven's were father and son. If they were taking back handers they would surely have just buried the body with the dead cats and chickens?
DeleteThe fact that the Fulham Union Workhouse was directly opposite on Margravine Road may explain the dead babies.
ReplyDeleteDo you think so? Wouldn't it be hard to hide a pregnancy in the workhouse? A couple of the bodies seem to have been hidden for a some time before being disposed of.
ReplyDeleteI don't think it would be too difficult-the place was huge. And with about 20 staff to oversee several hundred "inmates" supervision was probably not of the highest calibre.
ReplyDeletePerhaps you are right. I've never come accounts of dead babies being chucked over the railings at other cemeteries.
DeleteJust a quick comment re the dead babies The first was wrapped in Brown Paper and placed in a box by the attending constable and not as stated in the second paragraph re a child also found !! wrapped in brown paper x
ReplyDeleteThat is true, the first baby was wrapped in brown paper after the discovery of the corpse whereas the second was discovered already wrapped in brown paper and tied up with boot laces.
DeleteI've just come across an interesting story in The Surrey Comet, 26 January 1878 (page 5 under "Kew"). I believe that the Act the coroner refers to is the 1874 Registration of Births & Deaths Act which required the registration of stillborn child before he/she could be buried. Before that you would just give a shilling to the parson. No details necessary, none recorded.
ReplyDeleteMuy interesantes todos estos relatos. Que bien que existe alguien que los publica. Saludos desde Mexico.
ReplyDelete