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.
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.
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 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!
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.
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….’
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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…..
There are over 53 war graves and I found the plot containing most of them although there are others buried throughout the cemetery. The plot contains 18 German airmen, (one unidentified), and 50 British casualties. The others are Commonwealth service personnel of which 2 remain unidentified and I saw some of them as I explored.
The Hebrew section is near the crematorium and I found other notable permanent residents although a chill was beginning to make its presence felt as the afternoon wore on. Samual Courtauld and his wife’s headstone seemed quite modest considering his achievements. He was the great art collector who founded the Courtauld Institute of Art in 1932 which continues to this day and, after a series of gifts during the 1930’s, bequeathed his entire collection to the Institute on his death. He also created a £50k acquisition fund for the Tate and National Gallery in London which enabled them to acquire works that helped create national collections of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist art.
Another surprise was finding a definitely male angel draped in what could be described as a toga (it looked chilly) keeping watch over the grave of Arthur and Ethel Weston. It’s unusual as most angels in cemeteries and churchyards appear to be pretty, pensive young women.
There was a 2D representation of ‘Simply To Thy Cross I Cling’ on the Holness headstone. I found a metal Lourdes medal that had been placed on a stone cross.
There was also a variant on the open book which was last month’s Symbol of the Month. Here it has been placed on a lectern style stand which made me think of the deceased standing up and telling all those around him of his or her good deeds or perhaps giving them a sermon.
On the elegant Devereux headstone dedicated to Thomas and his wife, Maria, I didn’t need to look at the epitaph to know that this was dedicated to a Royal Navy man. The two pillars have chains wrapped around them ending in two entwined anchors. There is also a Crown above them and the familiar shaking hands at the top.
I then came across my other surprise of the day when I found another Grade II listed monument. I was surprised that the small model airplane on top of it hadn’t been stolen although I saw very little vandalism in the cemetery. The monument is dedicated to Edward Leonard George ‘Elgy’ Betts who died aged 19 on 17 July 1938. I am indebted to Findagrave for the information about him:
‘….crashed into the sea with a 2 seater light aircraft after taking off from Ramsgate airport. He was flying a Miles Hawk Trainer airplane belonging to Thanet Aero Club and it crashed into the sea off Cliftonville, Margate, Kent. He and his passenger, 16 year old Marjorie Wall, were killed….. She is also buried in Margate Cemetery with her parents. The sculpture of the plane is and accurate representation of the plane in which he died, including the registration letters G-AEFU.’
Ramsgate airport is long gone and has been replaced by an industrial. For a Sunday afternoon the cemetery was quite busy with visitors, mostly in cars, and a few like myself on foot. But I was aware that I didn’t have enough time on this visit to explore the entire cemetery so will do it in sections on future visits. I am already anticipating this although there is already plenty to write about!
It was a dark, gloomy grey Sunday when I decided to explore the cemetery and walked up the impressive avenue of yew trees studded with bright red berries to the two cemetery chapels. But, by the entrance, I discovered a smaller building hidden behind bushes in the Gothic style of the chapels. I thought that it might have been a mortuary chapel but, on looking at the map, it may have been a more prosaic toilet block now locked up. The cemetery is officially known as St John’s cemetery and also houses a crematorium and associated gardens of rest.
After the excitement of Halloween, people appeared to have donated their pumpkins to the local wildlife and I disturbed a squirrel scampering over one. However, although people may consider them to be a tasty treat. Forestry England doesn’t agree and suggests on their website that they be reused to make pumpkin soup or be added to compost.
Nothing prepared me for the size of the cemetery and, so far, I have been unable to discover its exact dimensions. I soon realised knew another visit or two would be necessary to explore it fully. The bright Autumn colours of the leaves were dulled by the greyness of the skies as I merrily kicked up leaves and looked for fungi. But all I could find were a couple of what I thought were parasol mushrooms lurking in the fallen leaves.
The cemetery was opened in 1856 and a sign marks the place of the first burial which was a woman, Harriet Ross, on 1 November of that year. Most of the first section along the main avenue dates from the 19th century. As I neared the chapels, there was a large monument in a gap between the yew trees, set back from the path featuring an angel praying before a cross with, I assumed, a portrait of the deceased looking approvingly on. This was on the LeMair monument.
A sign announced ‘Sanger Path’, I wandered along it and came to my first surprise of the day. 4 angels forming a square, one at each corner, on the Reeve memorial. They are well sculpted with detail on the back as well. But then my eye was drawn, well I could hardly miss it, by the lifesize statue of a horse atop the Sanger monument. Beautifully sculpted, it is dedicated to a circus proprietor, John Sanger (1816-1899). He has a tenuous connection to one of my favourite Beatles songs. There is an upturned horseshoe above John Sanger’s epitaph for luck and his shows featured equestrian acts involving horses and ponies and a pantomime every Christmas. He originally went into partnership with his brother, George, but eventually they went their separate ways. George was brutally murdered in 1911 by an ex employee who then committed suicide. A photo album of George’s circus, its performers and animals came up for auction in 2017 and showed that a Victorian circus certainly was value for money! The Sanger circus appeared by royal command at Windsor Castle by Queen Victoria and they also took part in the annual extravaganzas at Crystal Palace.
One of George Sanger’s great granddaughters ashes are also interred in the family plot. This was Victoria Sanger Freeman (1895-1991) and she went under the sobriquet of ‘Queen of the Elephants’ with 4 of them under her charge. She was the last member of the Singer dynasty of circus performers. Beside John Sanger’s horse is another Sanger, Mary Rebecca, who married into the family. She is sandwiched between John and the Reeve ladies. She married William Sanger but I’m not sure at the moment where he stood within the Sanger hierarchy.
There was an interesting variation regarding epitaphs within the cemetery. On several graves, they were carved within an oval frame that was reminiscent of a portrait. I thought they looked very elegant.
There was only one way to discover why another path was named ‘Surfboat Path’ and halfway down I came upon the Grade II listed memorial to the Surfboat Disaster. It commemorated the tragedy that killed 9 Margate boatman on 2 December 1887 and was restored by the Royal National Lifeboat Institute, 120 years later in 2017. The town’s surfboat, ‘Friend to All Nations’, went out on that night in appalling weather to assist the sailing vessel, ‘Persian Empire’. Sadly, the surfboat capsized on the Nayland Rock in Margate with only 4 survivors. A surfboat is according to Wikipedia: ‘A surfboat (or surf boat) is an oar-driven boat designed to enter the ocean from the beach in heavy surf or severe waves. It is often used in lifesaving or rescue missions where the most expedient access to victims is directly from the beach’
The 2017 memorial service was not only to acknowledge the tragic event but also as a reminder that the crews and elements still face the same challenges as emphasised in the sad loss of the crew of the Penless lifeboat in 1981. To say that it is impressive is an understatement as it is surrounded by more modest memorials. It’s in the shape of a huge rock with a lifesize mourning woman, her hands to her head, face turned away, in Victorian dress and carrying a laurel wreath, an evergreen that symbolises eternity. There is an epitaph to the disaster beside her and above, on the top of the rock, are a collection of nautical symbols: chains, anchors, ropes and a life belt with the surfboat’s name on it. I was stunned although I would have expected a few nautical graves due to Margate being on the coast.
Maybe I just disturbed the nocturnal guests at St James’s and they felt compelled to hide but all appeared to be silent as I stepped inside the church. But they were given away by 2 vacant camp beds in front of the altar and the small refreshment area by the pulpit. I thought that the hot water bottle on one of the camp beds was a nice touch as I stood there for a moment and wondered what it must have been like staying overnight in an empty church in such an isolated place. There are houses around the church but not that many. ‘Champing’, is a euphemism for overnight ‘camping’ in churches looked after by The Churches Conservation Trust. Don’t worry they’re not pitching tents! The church provided the campbed and the usual amenities. It’s really caught on in recent years and I have been tempted to try it myself.
But I was at St James’s to see the cockleshell room which I’d missed on earlier visits. There wasn’t a sign advertising it but a quick look at the church map of the interior and I headed for the church organ. This time I found it! The door’s latch seemed to echo in the tranquillity as I pulled it open. The vestry is ‘compact and bijou’ as an estate agent would undoubtedly say – it is tiny and there was only a small open cobwebbed window, high up in the wall for ventilation. The room felt very warm and contained only a chair, possibly a recycled pew, and a bureau.
But it’s the thousands of cockleshells that made me catch my breath. They are floor to ceiling, arranged in patterns with newer ones being cemented in. I have to say that it did feel a little claustrophobic. The vestry dates back to the 19th century and is considered to be either a reminder or perhaps homage to the shell being the symbol of the saint, St James. Shells would be worn in pilgrims’ hats as they went on the trail to his shrine in Santiago de Compostela. Above the door, and supposed to be, are initials and a date which may be 1833 or 1838. The initials are I.M. and I.C. CWARDENS which could stand for John Murton and John Comport churchwardens. I was looking in the wrong place so didn’t spot it but perhaps on another visit…. you do need a few minutes just to take it all in and try not to touch them although it is a very tactile surface.
According to the Churches Conservation Trust, it’s considered to be
‘unique in an English church’.
As I explored the nave after leaving the little room I saw the medieval benches that date back to the 14th century. They’ve evaded the iconoclasts of the 1600s and Victorian restoration but are now too fragile to be touched, much less sat on, and are now roped off.
The name Murton appeared again on an elegant and poignant wall memorial to a sailor, John William, eldest son of John Murton of nearby Cooling Castle. He died young, aged 28, after falling overboard from the Monarch off Rio de Janeiro during a voyage to Calcutta. The inscription on the marble tablet quotes from the ship’s captain’s log:
‘And so perished one of the finest and best hearted seamen who ever trod a ship’s deck. I have lost a trustworthy officer and valued friend. Peace be to his remains.’
After that I went outside to see ‘Pip’s Graves’ and the table tomb on which Charles Dickens is reputed to have eaten his lunch. Across the marsh I could see docked ships and butterflies flitted about on the buddleia at one end of the churchyard. I found a clergyman’s grave denoted by a chalice and more childrens graves. One was dedicated to a six year old. I also pursued a Common Darter dragonfly until it posed obligingly and checked to see if the little grinning demon still kept watch over the outside loo. He did. I looked up as I left the churchyard and saw, glinting on the weathervane above the tower the representation of another cockleshell.
The 18th historian, Edward Hasted, described Cooling as
‘an unfrequented place, the roads of which are deep and miry, and it is as unhealthy as it is unpleasant.’
It certainly is unfrequented as I was alone as I walked along Cooling Road to and from the church with only passing cars for company. The remains of the 14th century Cooling Castle, which is in private hands, are still impressive. Dark blue sloe berries were still on several bushes and windfalls clustered beneath apple trees in a nearby orchard. I retraced my steps back to Cliffe for a wander round St Helen’s churchyard and then a very welcome cuppa in their café.
But how I envied the ‘champers’ enjoying a good night’s kip(I hope) in that little corner of Kent.
It was the drawings made by Wenceslaus Hollar for Samuel Pepys (see above) that were used as guidance for the recarving of the reliefs in 1773 and 1853. These allow the viewer to see what the tomb originally looked like and to compare them with the changes that successive sculptors have made. For example, G P White in 1853 seemed to have his own interpretation of the hydra.
But, as you might imagine with pollution and the London atmosphere, the tomb being outside and at the mercy of the elements, the carvings have deteriorated and changed over the centuries. As the gardentrust.blog says:
‘The casual viewer is not seeing the original carvings. As it was outside in what would have originally been the churchyard, the elements soon did their work. The tomb was so badly damaged by 1773 that a public subscription was raised for its restoration. Lambeth Archives still have the ledger that recorded the donations.
But in 1853, 70 years later, the public funded a further restoration. It was the sculptor G P White who undertook this restoration.’
The 1853 restoration cost £110. The Victorians were enthusiastic restorers, perhaps too enthusiastic in some ways.
At one end of the tomb is a coat of arms which comprises of three fleur de lys on a diagonal bar and with a lion holding up its paw. A helmet with a closed visor is meant to be a sign of gentility and is topped with the crest of another fleur de lys and 2 wings. However, the Tradescants had no official grant from the College of Arms and may just have adopted it as a ‘rising’ family. It was a standard item on a monument and is the most conventional symbol.
At the other end, the west end, is a fearsome looking hydra which is a mythical ancient Greek creature associated with the 10 Labours of Hercules. It lived in the murky waters of Lake Lerna which was reputed to be the entrance to the underworld. Each time one of the hydra’s heads were cut off , two more would grow in its place so it was a deadly enemy. The hydra in the Pepys drawings is almost friendly and certainly non threatening whereas the 1853 version, carved in high relief, is much more dramatic with its bat like wings, female breasts., seven bird like heads and a long forked reptilian tail.
There were other changes as well and the gardenstrust.blog commented on the skull in the lower part of the panel.
‘It lacks the lower jaw and is presumably the same one that appears in the younger John’s portrait where it is covered with skull moss, much sought after as a powerful medicine.’
This portrait appears in Part 1. The significance of the skull may be a reminder of vanitas paintings which flourished during the 16th and 17th centuries and came from the Netherlands. They often featured a skull and invited the viewer to ponder on the fleeting quality of life.
‘ruined buildings in the background and architectural detritus in the foreground together with a crocodile and shells and fossils. The corners are formed by gnarled and stunted trees with heavy foliage.’Cabinet.ox.ac.uk
The depiction of the ruins have been debated as the restorations may have changed their appearance. They have been described as Egyptian or Greek with obelisks and a pyramid amongst others. There are also fragments of Corinthian capitals. The shells may refer to specimens that were in the Tradescant collection and the large reptile in the lower part of the north panel could refer to the ‘Crocodile from Aegypt’ that was listed in the exhibits of the ‘Ark.’ It was also seen as a symbol of the early modern culture of collecting as seen in the oldest depiction of a ‘cabinet of curiosities’, the museum of Ferrente Imperato.
In order to link all the sides of the tomb together, the mason carved a set of large trees in deep relief. They hold up the ledger with its epitaph:
‘Know, stranger, ere thou pass, beneath this stone Lie John Tradescant, grandsire, father, son The last dy’d in his spring, the other two, Liv’d till they had travelled Art and Nature through, As by their choice Collections may appear, Of what is rare in land, in sea, in air, Whilst they (as Homer’s Iliad in a nut) A world of wonders in one closet shut, These famous Antiquarians that had been Both Gardeners to the Rose and Lily Queen,* Transplanted now themselves, sleep here & when Angels shall with their trumpets waken men, And fire shall purge the world, these three shall rise And change this Garden then for Paradise.’
It has been suggested that the line ‘A world of wonders in one closet shut’ may refer to the Ark.
Despite the changes to the carvings, the Tradescant tomb is a magnificent survivor with five members of the family being commemorated. The enigmatic carvings, the epitaph and one woman’s determination have all added to the legendary Tradescant reputation. It’s a real sight to see and there are other interesting memorials in the ex-churchyard as well. For example, there is one dedicated to Admiral Bligh of Mutiny on the Bounty fame and there is a wonderful ouroboros on another, the Sealy family monument.
If I wanted to be flippant I could have subtitled this post ‘The Tracks of my tears’ as 1, and a group of members of The Dracula Society, enjoyed a guided tour along the fragments of the Necropolis Railway in deepest Surrey. Our guide, John Clarke, had given a fascinating talk on the Railway after discovering the abandoned North station buildings at Brookwood in the 1970’s.
The Necropolis Railway was commonly known as The Stiffs Express and ran from a dedicated platform at Waterloo station to Brookwood station or Necropolis Junction as it was originally known. It was created by Victorian enterprise and entrepreneurship in 1854 as its owners eagerly anticipated a lucrative trade from transporting up to 10,000 bodies a year to the new Brookwood Cemetery. This was approximately 23 miles out of London and was envisaged as relieving the pressure on overcrowded city churchyards. The Railway had two stations; North and South. One was for Anglicans and the other was for Non-Conformists which was basically anyone who wasn’t an Anglican.
The Victorian class system was rigidly enforced on the Railway even in death. Charles Blomfield, the Bishop of London, declared that it was completely unacceptable for the families of people from different social classes, living or dead, to be forced to share the same train on the journey to the cemetery. After all, no-one wanted people who had led ‘decent and wholesome’ lives to be placed in the hearse car beside those who had led ‘less moral’ lives. You might think that once someone’s dead what does it matter…..
The Railway wasn’t cheap. Here are the fares with their modern equivalent:
1st class 6s = £92
2nd class 3s 6d = £23
3rd class 2s 6d = £12
Coffin tickets were priced for 1st/2nd/3rd class according to the type of funeral booked.
A train left Waterloo at 11.40am and there was a return one to Waterloo at 3.30pm so mourners could be out in the countryside most of the day. This meant that, unless the funeral was on a Sunday, a working person would have to lose a day’s pay. However refreshments were available at both stations and consisted of home cooked ham sandwiches and fairy cakes. At the talk, Mr Clarke revealed that there had been a sign over the counter announcing ‘Spirits served here.’ There were only two accidents during its 90 years of existence and neither involved fatalities.
But the anticipated trade didn’t take off. Instead of 10,000 burials per year it was at best roughly 2000 and by the 1930’s the train journeys had tailed off to 1 or 2 a week. It was the Luftwaffe that finally killed off the Necropolis Railway and it closed forever on 11 May 1941. After the end of Second World War its surviving parts were sold off as office space.
But we still found its traces around Waterloo. On Westminster Bridge Road the magnificent booking hall still stands with most of the original features intact although the London Necropolis Railway sign has long since gone. The booking hall dates from 1902 and used to be the HQ of the British Haemophilia Society but is now the offices of a Maritime broker.
Then we walked up Lower Marsh and into Hercules Street to see what remained of one of the 3rd class platforms. These were meant for working people and, as we looked along the underneath of the platform from ground level, someone in our group pointed out the metal posts on the pavement beneath. These were inscribed with the word ‘LIFE’ whereas the platform up above had been concerned with Death. A hotel is now in place of where the cortege dramatically swept through Waterloo station as they entered.
shadows fly away 