Symbol of the Month – The Mass Dial

In light of the mass dial found at St Mary’s In the Marsh, I thought it might be timely to repeat the 2021 Symbol of the Month about them. Easily missed as they are not always where you expect to find them, they are survivors from a time where there were no time keepers such as clocks. People rose with the sun and went to bed at sunset which is why they were so important to villages and their inhabitants.

Mass Dial set into a wall at St James’s, Cooling, Kent. © Carole Tyrrell

Despite the somewhat dispiriting summer, I was determined to escape from the house and see at least one or two local churches.  My little part of Kent is known as Charles Dickens country (I’m not sure that he knows about this) and there are several buildings and churches associated with him. 

One of these is St James’s church at Cooling.  Although closed for services, it is still kept open by local people on most days. The Churches Conservation Trust take care of it and it’s in an isolated spot which borders onto marshes.  It’s also a fair walk from the nearest town, Cliffe.  I didn’t see any signs of much of a village there although there is a 14th century ruined castle nearby. St James’s is the end of a terrace of houses appropriately named Dickens Walk. 

l’ll talk more about St James in a later post as it inspired one of Dickens most atmospheric scenes in ‘Great Expectations’ with the childrens graves in the churchyard.  But while I was there, I found a symbol set within a wall that I had heard of but had never previously seen an example – this was the Mass Dial.  I have to admit that if it hadn’t been pointed out on a display board within the church that I might have missed it as it’s set into an outer wall of the church.  Not many have survived and Victorian restoration may have meant that they are found in odd places.

Mass dials are rare survivors and were a way of telling time before the invention of mechanised clocks and timepieces in the 14th century. 

It was the Anglo-Saxons who established the dials.  There had been confusion with all the different calendar systems such as the Lunar and Julian, and with a largely illiterate population, a visual way of telling the time was necessary.

It was the Anglo-Saxons who established the dials.  There had been confusion with all the different calendar systems such as the Lunar and Julian, and with a largely illiterate population, a visual way of telling the time was necessary.

According to the Building Conservation website:

the Anglo Saxons divided night and day into 8 artificial divisions known in Old English as Tid or Tides.  The 4 daylight divisions were called:

Morgen – 6am – 9am

Undern – 9am to noon

Middaeg – Noon to 3pm

Geletendoeg – 3pm to 6pm. 

Morning, noon and evening are still in use as the last remnants of this division still in use today as are moontide, yuletide and shrovetide.’

But, throughout the Middle Ages, the Catholic church emphasised the reciting of prayers and fixed times during the day as pre-Reformation Britain was still a Catholic country.  These were known as the Divine Offices and were:

Matins – pre-dawn

Prime (6am)

Terce (9am)

Sext (12pm)

None (3pm)

Vespers (sunset

Nocturnes (after sunset) 

However, these were not set as the sun might not shine for a few days and if a mistake was made then the parish priest might end up celebrating certain feasts on different days from a neighbouring parish. 

Mass Dial, St John’s church, Devizes, Wiltshire – note that it still has the marker in it showing how it worked.© Brian Robert Marshall under Geograph Creative Commons Licence.

They were a form of medieval sun dial and originally the hole in the centre of the dial would have contained a horizontal wooden or metal rod that cast a shadow.  This was known as a ‘gnomon’ which is pronounced as No Mon.  These may well have been the local community’s only way of telling the time although medieval life revolved around getting up at sunrise and going to bed at sunset.

According to the British Sundial Society,

‘mass dials can be found on the south side of many churches.  They are usually small and often located on the walls, buttresses, windows and doorways of a church.  However, they can also appear in more unlikely places such as inside churches and on north walls where the sun rarely shines. But they have also been found in porches suggesting that the porch was built sometime after the dial was made.’

The Society goes onto suggest that this may be

 ‘due to the stone blocks having been re-used in the rebuilding of the church.’ 

The location of the Cooling one may indicate that it’s been moved.

Again, according to Building Conservation:

‘if a mass dial is found anywhere other than a church and other than the south elevation of a church, this usually means that it has been moved from its original location often as part of a Victorian restoration.  In such cases, the dials were sometimes rebuilt into the fabric upside down, making them unreadable.’

The positioning of mass dials is important and can vary.  They may be on the smooth cornerstone or quoin of a tower, nave or chancel, above a porch or on a door or window jamb.  Often they are set at eye level and in one church it is cut into a window ledge.

Mass dial, All Saints.Oaksey, Wiltshire. © Brian Robert Marshall. Shared under Wiki Creative Commons

Mass Dial, St Michael & All Angels., Heydon, Lincs. ©Richard Croft. Shared under Wiki Creative Commons

Mass dials also vary in their design as:

‘Some have either a few or many radiating lines, {others} have ‘hour’ lines within the circles or semi circles and others are constructed with a ring of ‘pock’ marks drilled into the stone.’  

British Sundial Society

There are also variants in the way that the hour lines are numbered as they may have Roman numerals or even Arabic ones.  They’re also known as scratch dials as

‘many are quite crudely scratched into the stone.’ British Sundial Society

A full circle version, All Saints, Yatesbury. ©Brian Robert Marshall Shared under Wiki Creative Commons

The 14th century brought mechanical clocks that created a regulated 24 hour time period.  As a result, medieval life changed as it was no longer so reliant on daylight.  However, mass dials were still in use but now they were a complete circle with lines radiating from the central gnomon to simulate the 24 hour clock.  But by the 16th century they had fallen out of use.  Sundials and mechanical locks had overtaken them and it was no longer the Roman Catholic church that dominated after the Reformation.

Mass dials are of great archaeological and historic importance.  However, many of them are now indecipherable due to erosion and vandalism and people may not even realise what they are or their significance.

© Carole Tyrrell Text and photos unless otherwise stated.

References and further reading

https://sundialsoc.org.uk/dials_menu/mass-dials/

https://www.buildingconservation.com/articles/mass-dials/mass-dials.htm

http://massdials.org.uk/links.htm

A Spring saunter in the footsteps of E Nesbit – Part 2 – The last resting place and final home.

St Mary’s in the Marsh Shared under Wiki Commons

Edith Nesbit is buried in the churchyard of St Mary in the Marsh which was our next church. We left Brenzett and its attractive cats to travel through the wonderful Kent countryside. Blossom foamed over the hedgerows and the fields and marshes seemed to stretch on forever. There was a sense that Nature was beginning to stretch herself and come back to life after the winter.

  

Early bluebells nodding in the breeze, St Mary’s in the Marsh ©Carole Tyrrell

St Mary in the Marsh was a more substantial church and we were greeted by the Star Inn which ‘would have been Edith’s local’ but is now a private house. It’s a large, rambling building and was opposite the church. We soon found her last resting place in front of St Mary’s lying under the morning sun and with a simple wooden rail as a marker. It was Tommy, her second husband, who erected the first wooden rail commemorating Edith. This has suffered over the years and is now inside the church porch with a small plaque.  The one in the churchyard today is a replacement put up by the E Nesbit Society.  

E Nesbit grave marker.©Carole Tyrrell

The original grave marker now in St Mary’s church porch. ©Carole Tyrrell

Plaque above E Nesbit’s grave marker. ©Carole Tyrrell

St Mary’s was less plain inside than St Eanswith although there were still box pews and whitewashed walls.  There was a magnificent triptych on one wall and another little plaque inside the nave dedicated to Edith. Three pairs of eyes were watching us as we explored. There were two small heads attached to two pillars of a sedilia by the altar and another, larger one at the base of a column.

Two ancient faces watching from the sedilia by the altar.©Carole Tyrrell

Another watching face from the base of a column. All four images ©Carole Tyrrell

Outside early bluebells nodded in the breeze and we found a medieval mass dial set into a wall. (please see Symbol of the Month – The Mass Dial published 18/10/21)

Medieval mass dial set in wall. ©Carole Tyrrell

Afterwards we went on to explore churches and other places associated with Russell Thorndike and his famous creation whose exploits took place on the Marshes, Dr Syn.

Our final port of call was St Mary’s Bay in Dymchurch where we saw the house known as ‘The Jolly Boat’ which was E Nesbit’s final home which she are with Tommy. It is now a holiday home and is situated at the end of Nesbit Road appropriately enough.  As we admired it, we were lucky enough to see a steam train from the Romney and Hythe railway come puffing past as it steamed into the station nearby.  In the town one of our party had spotted a blue plaque on a house called ‘The Cottage’ which commemorated its famous residents: the painter Paul Nash, Noel Coward and Edith all stayed there. We did wonder if it had been at the same time and one of our party commented that ‘it must have been quite a party!’

The Jolly Boat, April 2025. ©Carole Tyrrell

Nameplate of ‘The Jolly Boat’©Carole Tyrrell

A steam train came puffing past! ©Carole Tyrrell

Blue plaque outside The Cottage, Dymchurch. ©Carole Tyrrell

E Nesbit had a fascinating life with her strong Socialist views and published over 60 books, some of which are still in print today. The film version of ‘The Railway Children’ is a much loved classic although her ghost stories are less well known.  They were reprinted last year in ‘The House of Silence’ by Handheld Press.

It was a wonderful day travelling the marshes and understanding how they inspired Edith where she is still remembered with such affection.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated

References and further reading:

Brenzett, Church of St Eanswith — Romney Marsh Historic Churches Trust

St Eanswith’s Church, Brenzett, Kent

The Project Gutenberg ebook of Grim Tales, by E. Nesbit.

https://edithnesbit.co.uk  The Edith Nesbit Society

E. Nesbit – Wikipedia

A Spring saunter in the footsteps of E Nesbit – Romney Marshes, Kent Part 1- Man size in Marble

St Eanswith, Brenzett © Carole Tyrrell

The churches of the Romney Marshes are isolated and you’ll need your own transport to visit them. But there are hamlets and villages here and there and I could imagine how it must feel in mid-winter with dark short nights.

However it has long been one of my ambitions to explore the churches that are on the marshes. So when I was offered the chance I didn’t hesitate.  It was a wonderful Spring day, sunny and bright, and we were all eager to explore the Marshes.

Our first church was St Eanswith in Brenzett. This was a plain little church with a candlesnuffer steeple on top of a small slope and was surrounded by a small churchyard dotted with daffodils. There was an azure blue sky and a hare was spotted racing across a bare field at the back of the church. It’s one of the smallest churches on the Marshes and is dedicated to a 7th Saxon princess who founded a nunnery in Folkestone in 630AD. There is now nothing left of the Saxon building and the present church can only be dated back to the 12th century when the Normans rebuilt it.

A small statue of St Eanswith over the top of the porch. © Carole Tyrrell

A large Maine Coon cat, who was obviously returning from a night out through the churchyard to its home in the little straggle of houses nearby, caught sight of us and tried to hide by running from patch after patch of daffodils. Then its owner came out of the house that it ran into with another Maine Coon cat!

Hide and seek © Carole Tyrrell

Inside St Eanswith it was plain, with white washed walls and dark wood pews. The pulpit had a raised roof panel which I’d not seen before and at the altar end of the church was the table tomb that we had come to see. This was the Fagge monument and is the only monument in the church. It is dedicated to a father and son, both confusingly called John, and it is a pair of alabaster sculptures of two men in fashionable 17th century clothes. The man in the foreground is portrayed as lying on his back on a sculpted cushion with his left hand on his chest while the man behind is lying on his elbow with his right hand under his chin and his left hand on his left leg. There are visible cracks and damage with repairs which you would expect over the centuries. They are beautifully sculpted. There are small coats of arms beneath the figures at corners which bring a small splash of colour. John Fagge the elder died in 1639 and his son and heir died in 1646.

The Fagge monument, St Eanswith. © Carole Tyrrell

Close up of the Fagge monument. © Carole Tyrrell

Close up of hands showing the ravages of time. © Carole Tyrrell

Epitaph to the Fagges and one of their coat of arms.© Carole Tyrrell

This is the monument that inspired one of E Nesbit’s most famous stories, ‘Man Size in Marble’ which was adapted by Mark Gatiss for the 2024 BBC Christmas ghost story and retitled ‘the Stone Woman’.  A young married couple have moved to the country and their housekeeper tells them of a certain night when something walks from a local church to their house. They take no notice of this but when the husband is called away and leaves his wife alone in the house….you can read the story here:  The Project Gutenberg ebook of Grim Tales, by E. Nesbit.

This is English folk horror clashing with modern reasoning and belief. Nesbit creates the dark countryside so well and also the central characters incredulity at what they are being told. They are still in love with endearments such as ‘wifie’ and ‘dearest’ which makes the ominous events that are about to happen all the more shocking.

E Nesbit c. 1890 Shared under Wiki Commons

E Nesbit (1858-1924)  is most known for ‘The Railway Children’ which was first published in 1905 and has never been out of print. It was also a classic and well loved childrens film. Some of her other children’s stories have also been adapted for TV.  But she also wrote ghost stories, some of which were recently published by Handheld Press in the collection ‘The House of Silence.’

She was only 4 when her father, an agricultural chemist, died. Edith’s sister, Mary, suffered from ill health and as a result the family travelled in the UK and France. She died in 1871 of tuberculosis after becoming engaged to the poet Phillip Bourke Marston.  After Mary’s death, Edith and her mother lived in Halstead Hall, Halstead in Kent which is considered to be a possible location for ‘The Railway Children’.  When she was 17 they moved to Elswick Road in Lewisham. 

She married Hubert Bland on 22 April 1880. They met when she was aged 18 and at 21 and 7 months pregnant they tied the knot. It was a difficult marriage to say the least as he was always being unfaithful. Edith had 3 children by him and adopted 2 more from one of his long term affairs. It was a complicated family.  She and Hubert were both fervent socialists and joined the Fabian Society, jointly editing its journal ‘Today.’ But this work often took second place to Edith’s writing as she became more successful. The Fabian Society ultimately became part of the Labour party.

From 1899-1920 she lived at Well Hall Eltham. The house is long gone but the garden remains as a public park. She also had a second home at Crowlink, Friston, East Sussex when she entertained.

Bland died in 1918 and she married her second husband, Thomas ‘the Skipper’ Tucker in Woolwich where he was the captain of the Ferry.  They both lived at St Mary’s Bay, Dymchurch at their house ‘The Jolly Boat’ where she died on 4 May 1924. It may have been from lung cancer as she was a great smoker.  Tommy died at the same address on 17 May 1935. To read more about Edith and her life please visit: https://edithnesbit.co.uk

It was such a privilege to see the Fagge monument in the flesh so to speak and also a writer’s inspiration. I could easily imagine Brenzett on a winter’s night, the little terrace of houses with their curtains drawn and lights out as something stirs and moves within the small church and suddenly the top of the tomb is empty and something that shouldn’t be is walking…..

A Spring Saunter in the footsteps of E Nesbit Part 2 her late life on the Marshes

© Carole Tyrrell photos and text unless otherwise stated

Brenzett, Church of St Eanswith — Romney Marsh Historic Churches Trust

St Eanswith’s Church, Brenzett, Kent

The Project Gutenberg ebook of Grim Tales, by E. Nesbit.

https://edithnesbit.co.uk  The Edith Nesbit Society

E. Nesbit – Wikipedia

Symbol of the Month – The Winged Soul

A lovely example of a winged soul from St Peter & St Paul, Shoreham, Kent.
©Carole Tyrrell

The skull and crossbones was one of the central motifs of 18th century Memento Mori and intended to be a stark and macabre reminder of the viewer’s inevitable destination.  They would be all that would remain of you after death.

However it wasn’t a very comforting message to either the loved ones left behind or to the living.

But fashions and tastes change, even in funerary symbolism, and the skull and crossbones had served their purpose.

Instead they were replaced by the winged soul. This consisted of a small child’s head flanked by a pair of wings or a garland of leaves.  They have the faces of babies with big, round eyes, plump cheeks and pouting lips and resemble Renaissance putti which are child-like.  Putti represent the sacred cherub as they are known in England.

The winged soul may have been intended to be a more comforting image as the wings represented the soul of the deceased ascending to heaven.  This could also give hope of a resurrection to those left behind.  According to headstone symbols:

‘In the USA the winged soul is known as a soul effigy.’

It was immensely popular and in my explorations of medieval Kent churches and their churchyards I found many examples. In fact, in one or two churchyards they outnumbered the skull and crossbones symbol. They mainly had one winged soul on a headstone but there were sometimes  two or three clustered together as in these examples:

They can also appear in several combinations with other classic memento mori symbols as here:

2 winged souls apparently in mid flight with clouds between them. St Martin of Tours, Eynsford, Kent.
©Carole Tyrrell
























The winged soul’s head looks more like a skull with a fine pair of wings. St Peter & St Paul, Tonbridge, Kent ©Carole Tyrrell
2 winged souls in mid-flight, St Peter & St Paul, Tonbridge, Kent ©Carole Tyrrell
One of my personal favourites! Another stylised winged soul with skull and crossbones beneath and a cloud above as well as a pair of bones. St Peter & St Paul, Seal, Kent on the grave of a widow. ©Carole Tyrrell
A combination of memento mori symbols and a winged soul with one wing almost furled as if in mid-flight, St Peter & St Paul, Seal, Kent. ©Carole Tyrrell
A pair of winged souls with their wings almost in mid-flight with other memento mori symbols. St Peter & St Paul, Seal, Kent. ©Carole Tyrrell

In addition, every mason seemed to have his own interpretation of feathers as they can be carved as typical fluffy feathers, to resemble broad leaves or be very stylised.

With wings in general they are an important symbol of spirituality.  They express the possibility of flying and rising upwards to heaven.  For example, in the Hindu faith, they are:

the expression of freedom to leave earthly things behind…..to reach Paradise.’

New Acropolis

However, as the full flowering of the Victorian language of death in the 19th century began to appear the emblems of memento mori were retired. Although a couple, such as the hourglass and ouroboros, were revived.  

A modern interpretation of the winged Soul on a headstone from 1996, St Martin of Tours, Eynsford, Kent. ©Carole Tyrrell

But I did find two modern examples of the winged soul in the churchyard of St Martin of Tours in Eynsford, Kent and one is featured above. For years I had always thought of the winged soul as being a more general symbol and merely a decorative feature.  I called them winged cherub heads or death heads and never considered that they might have had a specific meaning or purpose.  It was exciting to see so many variations and interpretations, sometimes within the same churchyard.  But it depended on the skills of the mason as to how well they were carved and whether they were 2 dimensional or 3 dimensional.

But, as a message of comfort, it is one of the most poignant in memento mori. The other central motifs emphasise time running out and what will be left behind. The winged soul suggests an eternal life and a more uplifting message.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated

References and further reading:

http://www.thecemeteryclub.com/symbols.html

https://headstonesymbols.co.uk/headstone-meanings-and-symbols/deathheads/

https://stoneletters.com/blog/gravestone-symbols

https://www.boston.gov/departments/parks-and-recreation/iconography-gravestones-burying-grounds

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Funerary_art_in_Puritan_New_England

http://www.speel.me.uk/gp/wingedcherubhead.htm

https://www.sacred-texts.com/lcr/fsca/fsca11.htm

A 200th birthday and an unsolved murder – Part 3 The parson detective comes on the scene – a visit to St Werbergh, Hoo, Kent

20th century headlines about the murder. © Carole Tyrrell

This is where Rev Jordan came in and he became known as the parson detective.  Such was the feeling in the community that he became determined to find the murderer and bring them to justice. So he set about disproving George White’s alibi.

At the time, George had claimed to have met one of his father’s employees, Joseph Green, who he had invited him to come with him. But a few yards away from the house, George had said that he had to return home to fetch his handkerchief. As a result, he was gone at least ten minutes which would have given him enough time to put the hurdle in place for the perpetrator’s gun to rest on. Joseph attested that the hurdle had not been standing at the pantry window during the day. Afterwards they had walked to the Chequers pub and Joseph said that it was the last time he saw George that night. Joseph had added that he had seen George ‘sitting up about upon the stiles’ near the murder scene before it was dark. Even more damning was that George didn’t get the handkerchief that he had said he went back home to get as, when everyone was assembled in the house after the murder, he hadn’t got one and had to go and find one.

A gun had been found in a clover stack near William’s house about a month prior to the murder and an employee called Francis Smith had put it in the hayloft. A short time afterwards he couldn’t find it and was told by George that William had taken it away, destroyed it the stock and lock of it and thrown the barrel into a lumber room.

Rev Jordan meanwhile had preached a sermon on the matter and opened a book, asking everyone in the congregation and village to write down exactly where they were at 8pm on that fateful Sunday evening.

Rev Jordan persuaded George to make a vestry statement and a meeting was then held to clear him of suspicion. So, he stood before 40 people on Easter Monday, 3 April 1809 after a dinner at the Five Bells Inn. After the parish accounts were settled, Rev Jordan insisted that George make a public statement. He told the audience what George had said in his vestry statement and demanded that George bring in witnesses to confirm that they had seen him at any time between 7.45-8.15 to which he said that he couldn’t as he hadn’t seen anyone at that time. Some of the audience questioned him and none were satisfied with his answers.

The Five Bells Hoo from Facebook photographer unknown

The Rev was able to prove that George had not bought a bag of nuts at 7.45pm as a witness had said that he had seen him cracking and eating them at 7.40pm. Also, George had claimed to be standing at the Five Bells Inn when the hulks guns were fired at 8.15pm but it had actually happened at 8.00pm. He had been seen coming from the farm at 8.20pm with laboured breathing when he reached the vicarage door. He had had enough time to murder his father and then double back to the village.

So what happened next?  Nothing. No one was ever charged with William’s murder and the case is still unsolved. George emigrated to Australia and that is the end of his story. There seems to be nothing more on the auction or the fate of William’s children.  I could not find an image of William or of Cookham Farm House.

The only reminders are the newspaper reports in florid Victorian language such as;

‘Dastardly murder.’

And, of course, the headstone.  It’s a reminder of an event that happened over 200 years ago which shocked a community. It’s not recorded if Rev Jordan went on to do more sleuthing but I think that he made a convincing case against George. William’s grave is situated 20 yards east of the main North church door and not faraway from Thomas Aveling’s resting place.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

Aveling and Porter – Wikipedia photos of steamrollers

Thomas Aveling Society

Thomas Aveling – Graces Guide

Celebrating the lifeNotable People – Hoo Parish Council Hoo, Rochester, Kent – Hoo St Werburgh and Chattenden Parish Council, Hoo, Rochester and legacy of Medway pioneer Thomas Aveling | Medway Council

Murder of William White 1808

 North Wales Gazette December 22 1808

Extracts from The Kentish Gazette

Monumental Inscriptions of St Werburgh Church, Hoo — Kent Archaeological Society

http://www.whitehousefarm.eclipse.co.uk/wwhite – a good selection of newspaper reports and Rev Jordan’s activities.

William Walter White (1751-1808) – Find a Grave Memorial

The Dastardly Murder of William – this site contains Victorian newspaper reports of the murder including 2 in London papers.  Also Rev Jordan’s thought on the murder and possible perpetrators.

GRIM HISTORIES: Premeditated Murder in South East England’s Medway Towns by Janet Cameron

A 200th birthday and an unsolved murder Part 2 – a visit to St Werbergh’s, Hoo

William White’s headstone and fulsome epitaph. © Carole Tyrrell

You never know what you will find in a country churchyard; crumbling mausoleums associated with royalty, a fine selection of skulls on headstones and poignant memorials.

But what I didn’t expect at Hoo was to find one that revealed, positively shouted in fact, about a local unsolved murder from the early part of the 19th century. This is the headstone dedicated to William Walter White. This is the inscription:

‘IN MEMORY OF

WILLIAM WHITE OF THIS PARISH, YEOMAN

WHO WAS ON SUNDAY EVENING THE 11TH OF DECR.

1808 MOST INHUMANLY MURDERED

IN THE BOSOM OF HIS FAMILY

BY A GUN DISCHARGED AT HIM THRO A WINDOW

WHILST SITTING BY HIS OWN FIRESIDE

THE PERPETRATOR OF THIS HORRID DEED IS

NOT YET DISCOVERED BUT THERE IS ONE, “WHO

IS ABOVE OUR PATH AND ABOUT OUR BED

AND WHO SPIETH OUT ALL OUR WAYS”

WHO[O] [WI]LL SOMETIME BRING IT TO LIGHT

HE LIVED ESTEEMED BY ALL WHO KNEW HIM

[AND HIS] SAD END IS UNIVERSALLY REGRETTED HE

[LEFT ISSUE]6 SONSAND 5 DAUGHTERS TO BEWAIL

[HIS LOSS AND DIED [AT] THE AGE OF 58 YEARS

STONE WAS ERECTED JUNE THE 24TH 1809

“[By] whose Assa[ssinating} {H}and [I fell]

[Drop] Reader [o’er my Grave one] Silent Tear

[Live Well remembering that your God is Near]

[If Rich or Poor or Relative you be]

[Strike your own breast and say – It was not Me!]’

A more dramatic epitaph it would be hard to find and the stonemason certainly earned his money!  The case shocked the farming community of Hoo especially as no one was ever brought to justice and suspicions ran rife. It even led to the local vicar of St Werbergh’s at the time, Rev Jordan, deciding to become an amateur sleuth and unmask the perpetrator.

Death had already visited the White family when William’s wife, Jane, dropped dead with no prior indication of illness on 24 March 1808 aged 44. The murder left the 11 children orphans within a short space of time and more about what happened afterwards later. William was a man of some standing in the village. He was a yeoman which meant that, although he was a farmer, he wasn’t part of the gentry. In 1790, he was one of only two franchised householders in the village and so was eligible to vote.

A typical farm house in Hoo. © eclipse

The Murder

The facts are that, on Sunday 11th December 1808, William was sitting reading at home with his family when a shot rang out. A gun had been fired through an open pantry window which killed William outright. The shot entered the back of his head and exited under the right eye. The ‘cries and lamentations’ of his family could be heard in Hoo village a mile away after the body was found. An unsuccessful search was made immediately for the perpetrator. However, a recently discharged gun was found in a ditch roughly 200 yards away from the house near the River Medway which led to the assumption that the murderer had escaped by water.

Such was the notoriety of the case that reports of it appeared in London newspapers and the Bow Street Runners were called in. They were the forerunner of the modern police force.

Bow Street Runners c1800 from History UK website.

Whoever fired the fatal shot must have known the layout of the house and the family’s habits. It took place on a Sunday when there were no servants about and it would have been necessary for the pantry door to be open in order to have a good view from the window as the gun was fired at William sitting by the fire. It had been propped up on a hurdle in front of the window and this helped the murderer to have a good aim. The gun was an old musket-barrel which had nails in the breach fastening it to the stock. It was a very crude gun as the hammer would not hold at full cock but was fastened back by a piece of twine which was presumed to have been cut at the time of firing. The fatal shot was fired at the same as the nightly salvo of guns from convict hulks on the River Medway. 

The suspects

The gun’s owner was a man called Driver and he and another man called Day were picked up in Bapchild near Sittingbourne, Kent. It was assumed that they were on the run. The Coroner, J Simmons Esq, questioned them but soon realised that he didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute them. He then had them removed to one of his Majesty’s ships which was a euphemism for being ‘press ganged’. The Kentish Gazette described it like this:

‘as they were unable to give a satisfactory account of their mode of obtaining a livelihood, they were sent to serve their country on board one of his Majesty’s ships of war.’

 If that wasn’t enough, later on, they were marched back from Portsmouth to Rochester to be further questioned and then press ganged a second time before being finally released without charge.

As for motive, William had recently found a servant, possibly Driver, in the act of robbing a neighbour and had informed the appropriate authorities. He had sacked the man who had sworn to get his revenge. In fact, a week prior to the murder, the unnamed man, had purchased a gun:

‘for which he had no possible occasion, under some frivolous pretence’

according to newspaper reports at the time.

The inquest on William was held and a verdict was returned of:

‘Wilful murder against some per or persons unknown – Friday 23 December 1808.

Events began to gather pace as the executor of William’s will, Thomas Denton, was authorised to put William’s home, land, possessions and other assets up for auction. It was intended that the money raised would be distributed by him amongst the children as he thought best for them. Originally it had been intended that Jane White, William’s wife would be a joint executor but of course with her death it fell to Thomas alone. Understandably the children tried to stop him and suspicion began to fall on him.  In the space of a few months they had been left orphans with the loss of both their parents and now they were to lose the family home as well.

But another suspect had appeared who was much closer to home. It was George White, William’s eldest son. He was known to be on bad terms with his father and had been seen to threaten him. George wanted the farm and the land but William was considering writing a new will leaving him and another relative out. However, his will dated 22 January 1808 did not indicate.   

But George had convinced both the Mr Simmons, the coroner, and the Bow Street Runners that, during the vital thirty minutes between 7.45pm and 8.15pm he had been in Hoo village buying:

‘a penny’s worth of nuts.’

The shop was a good mile away from the farm. But someone else in the community had doubts about George’s alibi and was determined to disprove it as we shall see in Part 3.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

Part 3 – the parson detective comes onto the scene

A 200th birthday and an unsolved murder – a visit to St Werbergh, Hoo, Kent

View of St Werbergh, a pity it wasn’t a better day. © Carole Tyrrell

Every September in Medway, Heritage Open Days take place. For a couple of weekends, I could gain access to buildings that are normally closed to the public such as the Rochester Bridge Chapel, almshouses and a synagogue amongst others. Despite Chatham’s somewhat dubious reputation nowadays, it has rich layers of history to be discovered due to its maritime past.
Last year in 2024, I went further afield and visited the Hoo peninsula. This was an area new to me and I wanted to visit St Werburgh’s church. It’s reputed to date back to the 12th century although an earlier church was on the site around 1080-1086 and was recorded in Rochester Cathedral.


I followed a crowd who seemed to be heading in the right direction, some of whom were in costume, but once I saw the church steeple I knew where I was. You can’t miss it – the battlemented tower is 55ft tall but with the steeple it is 127 ft or 38.5 metres in total. There used to be a light within the steeple that guided ships around the peninsula and if you look up you can still see its little wooden door. It seems plausible, after all why else would a recessed door be set into the steeple. The steeple is covered with oak tiles with a weathervane on top. There are 73 steps in the stair turret which give access to the battlemented tower.

View of steeple. © Carole Tyrrell

View of steeple door. © Carole Tyrrell

I’d never heard of the saint before but the guide leaflet has this to say:


‘St Werburgh was an English abbess known and loved for her great kindness and love to all living things. She is associated with geese because when a flock of geese settled in the convent land and were eating the crops, she ordered them into a fenced enclosure as punishment. That night a servant stole one of the geese, cooked and ate it, leaving only the bones.
In the morning St Werburgh set the geese free with a warning not to eat the crops again. Instead of flying away, the geese circled the convent making a great noise. Realising that one goose was missing she had the bones brought to her and restored the goose to life. The whole flock flew away, never to be seen on convent lands again. She was therefore held to have possessed extra-ordinary powers over natural creatures.’

She also has a stained glass window dedicated to her inside the church.

Statue of St Werbergh in church with a goose at her feet. © Carole Tyrrell

The oldest headstone in the churchyard is dated 1681 and is dedicated to Richard Scott who was a yeoman farmer. He died aged 70 in 1677. There is also a yew tree which is reputed to be 800 years old and the award for the most unusual name has to be a man called ’Time of Day’. who died in 1890. Sadly I didn’t find his headstone on this visit.

The oldest headstone in the churchyard, dedicated to Robert Scott. © Carole Tyrrell

Inside, the church possessed some unusual features. On display was a ledger stone which had been found under the floor and dated to the 12/13th century – the oldest I’ve seen. Two 14th and 15th vicars are also commemorated by memorial brasses. There are also two Royal Coats of Arms from the 17th century and a Norman font.

Medieval ledger stone. © Carole Tyrrell

Memorial brass to a former rector with a missing head.© Carole Tyrrell

Indoor refreshments were in full swing and I enjoyed a cuppa while exploring. There were local history stalls which is how I discovered the 200 year old unsolved murder. When I came outside again, a ceremony was taking place and the reason for people being in costume was revealed. It was the 200th anniversary of the birth of Thomas Aveling, a local man who designed machines that didn’t require horsepower. Two men were there in Victorian dress from the Thomas Aveling Society. They were joined by children in costume and national treasure, Jools Holland OBE, in his capacity as Deputy Lieutenant of Kent – Medway.

Member of Thomas Aveling society in Victorian dress by Aveling’s grave.© Carole Tyrrell

Thomas Aveling – a brief history

Thomas Aveling. Shared under Wiki Creative Commons

Although he was born in Cambridgeshire in 1824, Thomas moved to Hoo when his widowed mother married the Rev John D’Urban, the curate of St Werbergh. He was apprenticed to a farmer, Edward Lake, and became one himself. But he had dreams of creating machines that could be powered by other means than horsepower. In addition to the farm he also operated a small millwrighting and iron foundry business. Thomas was a talented and determined man and in 1856, in partnership with two other companies, he introduced a steam plough which was incredibly successful. Two years later, in recognition of his achievement, he was awarded ‘a piece of plate’ and a purse containing 300 guineas by Kent farmers. But there was more to come.


He formed a partnership with Richard Porter in 1862. It was very successful and they sold their products worldwide. But, like most restless, energetic and talented Victorian entrepreneurs, Thomas was onto his next project. One that is still in use today. One that helped create roads the world over including the ones in New York’s Central Park – the steam roller! Virtually unchanged since its creation.

An Aveline/Porter steamroller.

Honours for his invention came thick and fast. Thomas was knighted by the Austrian Emperor after showing it at Vienna’s Universal Exhibition and the French Government awarded him the Chevalier of the National Order of the Legion of Honour.

Thomas was also the Mayor of Rochester and introduced many improvements to the town which sadly no longer exist. He also represented Strood and Frindsbury on the City of Rochester Corporation.

In addition, he was also an enthusiastic yachtsman and it is believed that he may have caught a chill which developed into pneumonia whilst on his 28 ton Yacht, ‘Sally’ at the end of February 1882. On 7 March 1882 he died at the age of 58.  The funeral took place on 11 March 1882 and crowds lined the streets from his home at Boley Hill House in Rochester to St Werburgh’s church – a distance of 4.6 miles.  The funeral procession began with 39 carriages which increased to 54 and his coffin was covered with beautiful wreaths not unlike the ones on his grave for his 200th birthday.  He is buried with his mother, Sarah, his wife Sarah and his son Thomas. Two stained glass windows in the church commemorate him. There is also a secondary school in Chatham named after him and the road names on a housing estate in Hoo are associated with him.

Boley Hill House, Thomas Aveling’s home in Rochester as it is today. © Carole Tyrrell

For a fuller account of Thomas’s life and achievements please visit the Thomas Aveling Society’s website:  https://www.thomasavelingsociety.co.uk

Thomas Aveling’s grave covered with birthday wreaths. © Carole Tyrrell

But very near Thomas Aveling’s grave is one that is determined that the person which it commemorates and the way in which he died will never be forgotten.

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell unless otherwise stated.

Part 2 The 200 year old unsolved murder of William White, possible suspects and an amateur clerical sleuth.

A love supreme? The Allen memorial, All Saints Birchington

Full view of the Allen memorial. © Carole Tyrrell

There are so many stories within a churchyard. They are truly repositories of a community’s history in their recording of births, deaths and the history of local families. A simple epitaph can say so much about the people buried beneath it.


I almost missed the Allen headstone as it’s lying down on the grass. This would have been a shame as it is one of the loveliest and most poignant memorials in the churchyard and must have looked imposing when it was standing upright.

A closer view of the epitaph. © Carole Tyrrell

It’s dedicated to a married couple, Janet Lormie Allen or ‘Cissie’ who died young aged 23 on 10 October 1914, and her husband, Ernest August Allan, who died 45 years later aged 79. I don’t know why Cissie died so young: it may have been in childbirth, due to illness or to another cause. But she was greatly missed as the sentiment on the headstone shows.

At one side of the tombstone, beside the epitaph, stands a young woman, a maiden, dressed in a diaphanous, long flowing robe from which one strap has fallen, exposing a bare shoulder. The hair is untied and falls to her shoulders. Behind her is a tall, slender rose stem whose blossoms reach over her head. She looks upwards to the blooms above her as, with one hand, she reaches up to pluck a rosebud. In her other hand she already holds a single bloom half open. There is a hint of the waning of the Art Nouveau movement in the flowing lines of her dress and the romance of the image.

The significance of the rose being plucked is that it’s a bud and so not yet in bloom which indicates a life cut short.

I don’t know if Ernest remarried but he was buried with his wife in 1959 and so they were reunited. It’s such a shame that as the headstone is lying down as rainwater gathers on the carving of the young woman and, for example, there has been erosion on her face.

Closer view of the maiden’s face. © Carole Tyrrell

Despite my research I have not been able to find out any further details about the couple. But it’s one of the most beautiful memorials that I’ve seen, not just because of the carving, but, as I like to think of it, a love story written on an epitaph in a country churchyard. And as we approach St Valentine’s Day what could be more appropriate?


©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell

Happy New Year with a couple of mysteries!

Sorrowing woman on headstone, All Saint, Birchington-on-sea, Kent. © Carole Tyrrell

Happy New Year to all my readers and what an auspicious year it is for shadowsflyaway!

It’s 10 years since I began this blog on July 10th 2015 to be exact and some of my readers have been with me since the very beginning. Even now I am still discovering new symbols to write about, little mysteries that I find in churchyards and cemeteries that intrigue and inspire me.

Here are a couple that I found on a Christmas Eve walk in All Saints churchyard, Birchington on Sea. This is where the 19th century Pre-Raphaelite artist, Dante Gabriel Rossetti is buried with a Celtic Cross over his grave. It was a dull grey day, enlivened only by the bright efforts of the town’s yarn bombers.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s grave, All Saints Birchington-on-Sea which is in the form of a Celtic Cross. © Carole Tyrrell

An example of one of Rossetti’s most beautiful paintings, ‘Lady Lilith’.

But these two stood out. The first one was located by the original church door and appeared to be a variant on the mourning woman symbol as a woman, wearing a billowing gown or cloak, weeps over a man’s portrait. He faces her in profile and is dressed in 18th century fashion with a small ponytail and is within an oval frame. She sits with a skull on her lap. The portrait is supported by a large anchor whose rope ripple around and behind it. Above it there are two floating angel heads or winged messengers. The carvings on either side of the tableau were indistinct under the overcast sky. But a sunny day can often bring out details of carvings and epitaphs so I will return. The anchor would indicate a naval man and I have to say that that, on first look, the folds of cloth around the lower half of the woman resembled a mermaid’s tail to me. But that may just be me being more fanciful… It’s an impressive headstone with the central figures still crisp. I would hazard a guess that this is from the 18th century.

A closer view of the sorrowing woman headstone. © Carole Tyrrell

The other one is on a 19th century headstone and features an anvil and tools. On first glance I thought it might belong to the village blacksmith. But it’s dedicated to a woman, Elizabeth Adams. Underneath the motif is what appears to be a quotation which I thought might have come from the Bible. But, so far, I haven’t found anything that resembles it but a burst of bright sunshine could illuminate it further on a future visit.

A closer view of the anvil and tools with quotation partly visible beneath. © Carole Tyrrell

A ship is permanently sailing on Ernest Francis Walker’s headstone with a border of entwined ropes beneath it. The epitaph states that he was a crew member on HMS Vestal and so I presume the carving of a ship is a representation of it. Ernest died young at 22 and there are several ships that bear this name. The one that I think is most likely is a 26 gun sixth rate frigate of the Royal Navy. She was launched in 1833 and sailed in the West Indies and the Caribbean. In 1852 she ran aground near the Needles on the Isle of Wight and was taken to Portsmouth for inspection and repair prior to being decommissioned in 1860 and then broken up in 1862.

I am already looking forward to what else I will discover in 2025 including the spooky angel in a Broadstairs churchyard but I am determined to wait for a really foggy day for that one!

© Text and photos Carole Tyrrell


References and further reading:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Vestal_(1833)

Symbol(s) of the Month – the exuberant 18th century symbols of St George’s churchyard

One of the skulls at base of blank cartouche on one side of large chest tomb, St George’s. ©Carole Tyrrell

It’s often on a winter’s night, just as dusk begins to fall and the lamp lights in St Georges churchyard come up, that  the fine selection of 18th century tombstones are at their best. Carved skulls leer at you, an hourglass emphasises time passing and the gravedigger’s tools stand ready for the next interment.  And perhaps there is still a phantom schoolteacher using his sculpted globe to teach geography to his spectral students.

There has been a church on this site since the 14th century and, in one place in the graveyard  the number of burials over the centuries has made the ground rise up on both sides.  But, as well as 18th century examples of funerary symbolism, there are also some wonderful 19th century ones as well.  Inside the church there’s also a good selection of impressive wall monuments dedicated to prominent local families dating back to the 1600’s.  They are  buried in the vaults beneath the church.  St George’s also has the country’s oldest lych gate in that the current one incorporates elements from  a far older one. The churchyard is a pretty one for a short walk through to the bustling High Street  especially when the spring flowers begin to appear, carpeting the grass between the stones with bluebells and flitting butterflies.

View of tombstones with horned skull in foreground. ©Carole Tyrrell

However for this month’s Symbols post I will concentrate on the 18th century memorials within the churchyard. These  tombstones  are topped with classic memento mori symbols.  This is Latin for ‘remember (that you have) to die.’  They are the visual accompaniment to the immortal epitaph from Dundee’s Howff graveyard:

Remember Man as you pass by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now so must you be

Remember man that you must die.’

Graveyard symbolism, according to Douglas Keister, began when the well to do  could no longer be buried with in their local church due to lack of space. Instead, they took up their eternal residence in the newly consecrated burial grounds outside and surrounding the church walls. These were often known as ’God’s Acres’ and gave the wealthy the opportunity to erect a lasting memorial or tombstone in their memory.

St George’s churchyard became the last resting place of prominent local families, some of whose descendants still live in the area. The oldest tombstone dates from 1668 and the 18th century ones  are nearest to the church walls which in effect meant that they were  ‘Nearer my God to Thee.’

I’ve always enjoyed walking through the churchyard as it can feel like walking through a gallery of funerary symbols.  There’s something very exuberant about these 18th Century motifs of mortality even though some have eroded and only one epitaph is still fully readable.  However, the skull and crossbones, the Death’s Heads and others have, in several cases, lasted better than the epitaph below them.

The skull and crossbones are an effective, if macabre, reminder of what is left of a body after it decomposes and there are several good examples in St Georges.

This one is near the church entrance and features a skull and crossbones with what appear to be protruding palm fronds.  It also seesm to be resting on something whch may be a shield.  All that can now be read on the epitaph is…who dep….’

© Carole Tyrrell

The skull and crossbones, a winged hourglass and a set of sexton’s tool on the left hand side.
©Carole Tyrrell

Nearby is another skull and crossbones with a winged hourglass above it.  This is a reminder that ‘Time flies’ or ‘Tempus Fugit’ and that the onlooker will soon be bones and dust. So it’s important to make the most of their time on earth. On the left hand side is a pick and shovel.  These are a sexton’s tools which made me wonder if this was a sexton’s grave but the epitaph is now illegible.  The sexton’s role not only encompassed maintaining and looking after the church but also the churchyard.  In larger graveyards the sexton would have been more of a manager but in smaller ones he would have had sole responsibility for preparing the ground, digging and closing the grave, mowing the lawn and also maintaining the lawn and paths.

Skulls also feature prominently on two other tombstones on the other side of the church very near the wall. One seems to have a very sharp pair of horns and a  definite smirk.  On each side of it there appear to be small trumpets but it’s too weathered to see if anyone’s blowing them.  Maybe he’s keenly anticipating the Last Day of Judgement.

© Carole Tyrrell

The horned skull tombstone showing trumpet detail. ©Carole Tyrrell

Nearby is a large tombstone with what seem to be two somersaulting skulls on them although one is more eroded than the other.  Below them is a small worn hourglass.  I believe that these two examples of skulls may be unique to St Georges as I’ve haven’t yet seen them anywhere else.

Somersaulting skulls and hourglass. ©Carole Tyrrell

Douglas Keister has suggested that the skull and crossbones slowly began to be replaced by the much less stark and macabre  ‘Death’s Head.’  This is a human face with wings on either side of it.  I’ve always known it as the ‘winged cherub’ and there are also several good examples within the churchyard. These are symbols of resurrection intended to give those left behind some hope.

© Carole Tyrrell A closer view of the Saxby Angel with what appears to be a faded open book on one side and a stylised flower on the other side.

I am also a huge fan of calligraphy having studied it for two years at evening classes and it has undergone a revival on late 20th and early 21st century tombstones.  However 18th century calligraphy has a style all of its own and is instantly recognisable.  The only legible 18th century epitaph in St Georges is the one dedicated to a John Saxby.  It reads:

Here lyeth the body of John Saxby of the Parish who Departed this life…year of May 1731 aged 41 years.’

A fine example of a Death’s Head is on top with an open book beside it which may be the Bible or the Book of Life and there’s a stylised flower on the other side.  The open book may be a depiction of the incumbent offering their life to God for judgement as an ‘open book’. People are sometimes described as an ‘open book’ as they have their feelings and thoughts open to the world with no attempt to hide them.

A crown on clouds with two small angelic faces on each side of it. ©Carole Tyrrell

On another memorial two small faces, presumably from the angelic host, peer out from either side of the clouds surrounding a crown.  It’s a representation of the reward that awaits the faithful in heaven.  This verse from the Bible refers to it:

James 1:12 New International Version (NIV)

Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

A plump faced death’s head is surrounded by another open book and what I think maybe a small skull in the far corner of the stone.
 

A plump faced Death’s Head or winged cherub with an open book on one side and what I think is a small skull on the other. ©Carole Tyrrell

But one of the most unique and impressive tombstones in St George’s, or perhaps anywhere, is that of John Kay.  He was an 18th century schoolmaster and his life and talents are recorded by the tools of his trade that have been carved on his stone. There’s a globe on a stand, a trumpet, what appears to be a cornet, an artists palette, a pair of compasses and other items which are now too indistinct to read.  He was obviously very erudite and much appreciated by his students.  Sadly his fulsome epitaph is now virtually unreadable. He lies near Mr Saxby under a spreading yew tree.

© Carole Tyrrell

On the other side of the graveyard is a large chest tomb.  There is a dedication and an armorial on its top and I feel that some patient research in St George’s burial registers may reveal the incumbent’s identity.  There are blank cartouches on each side with death’s heads on top and two skulls beneath each one.  At one end are palm fronds which are a Roman symbol of victory which were then adapted by the Christians as a martyr’s triumph of death.  The palm as a symbol originated in the ancient Near East and Mediterranean region  and is a powerful motif of victory, triumph, peace and eternal life.  It’s traditionally associated with Easter and Palm Sunday and Christs’ resurrection and victory over death. On the other end of the tomb are what appear to be olive flowers.  The olive’s association with wisdom and peace originally came from Greek mythology when the goddess, Athena, presented an olive tree to the city that was to become Athens.  Successive Greek ambassadors then continued the tradtion by offering an olive branch of peace to indicate their goiod intentions. The olive tree is also associated with longevity, fertility, maturity, fruitfulness and prosperity.  In the Bible, Noah sent the dove out after the Flood to see if the floodwaters had receded and when it returned with an olive leaf in its beak Noah knew that the Flood had ended.  Even today the phrase ‘ offering an olive branch’ means the someone wants to make peace. But in this context the olive branch may mwean that the soul has departed with the peace of God. So one memorial incorporates powerful  motifs of mortality and resurrection.

View of chest tomb, St George’s churchyard. ©Carole Tyrrell
Palm fronds at one end of chest tomb, St George’s churchyard ©Carole Tyrrell
Blank cartouche on one side of chest tomb. Note Death’s Heads and skulls. ©Carole Tyrrell

St George’s has also used old tombstones to pave two of the pathways within the churchyard of which some are still readable.  It always feels as if I’m walking over someone’s grave although they are buried elsewhere in the graveyard.  However, although the 19th and 20th century memorials are rather more restrained and far more legible I prefer the more ‘in your face’  18th century symbols.  But in the case of the horned skull I can only frustratingly only guess at its meaning and the person who lies beneath…..

©Text and photos Carole Tyrrell otherwise stated.

References

Stories in Stone; A Field Guide to Cemetery Symbolism and Iconography, Douglas Keister, Gibbs M Smith, 2008

St George’s Churchyard, St George’s Parish Church, Beckenham, Revised June 2005

St George’s Parish Church, Beckenham, information leaflet,, October 2003

http://www.thecemeteryclub.com/symbols.html

http://www.catholictradition.org/Saints/signs4.htm

http://www.planetgast.net/symbols/plants/plants.html

https://stoneletters.com/blog/gravestone-symbols

http://www.graveaddiction.com/symbol.html