I tried to find this grave last year in the churchyard of Hoo St Werbergh but ran out of time. However, on a return visit this year I finally found it.
It’s dedicated to a man called ‘Time Of Day’ ( I kid you not). (1833-1890) with ‘Day’ being his surname. I did wonder if his siblings were called after days of the week with their surname providing the end as in ‘Sun – Day, Mon-Day etc.
He was a licenced victualler or publican who owned a pub in a nearby hamlet, Fenn Street, Hoo, called The Bell Inn from 1881. He died on 11 December 1890 and the headstone was erected by his wife, Martha, who was the executrix of his will. The value of his estate was £962.10s.3d which was a substantial sum at that time. There was no mention of any children.
The Fenn Bell Inn may have been named after one of several bells erected on nearby marshes. In poor weather they would ring to enable travellers to find a safe way to cross but The ‘Bell’ is a common name for pubs throughout Britain. The Fen Bell Inn has been in existence since the 17th century although it has been remodelled and restored since then. However, some of the original fabric still exists. Since 2014, it has housed the Fenn Bell Conservation project for rescued animals and a miniature railway. Recently, there has been controversy over the pub landlord’s plan to sell off land for housing but he has defended it saying that he needed to do it to keep his business going.
‘Time of Day’ is a very unusual name as you might agree but he was a man of some substance and is likely to remembered for many years to come.
This summer I was out walking with a friend along the sea wall to Minnis Bay when we saw this little roadside shrine. It was on a popular route which is used by walkers and cyclists alike. On one side is the pebbly beach and on the other are marshes that stretch down to the railway line. It was touching to see that people, friends or perhaps fellow passers-by, had left little tributes of a bunch of flowers and stones.
The placing of stones on graves is something that I’ve always associated with the Jewish faith (see blog post ‘Silently slumbering for remembrance Part 1 dated 14 April 2016). If you have ever visited a Jewish cemetery then you will have noticed stones placed on top of graves and headstones and there may be a basket of stones available for this purpose. But over the last few years I have noticed them being placed on the graves of people who aren’t Jewish and I was intrigued by their possible meaning.
In the Jewish faith, it is believed that the placing of stones ‘keeps the soul down.’ This comes from the Talmud
‘which is the central text of rabbinical Judaism and is the primary source of Jewish religious law and theology’ Wikipedia
In the Talmud, it is stated that:
‘souls continue to dwell for a while in the graves in which they are placed. The grave was called a beit olam or a permanent home and was thought to retain some aspects of the departed soul. By placing stones, it becomes a way of the living helping the dead to ‘stay put’.
This may have brought comfort to those visiting the grave in that they may feel that their loved ones are still near.The Hebrew word for pebble is ‘tz’ror’ which can also mean ‘bond’. The placing of stones was also a mark of respect and a way of showing that someone had visited.
Stones were used because of their durability. The Ancient Greeks believed that using stones to mark graves would ward off evil spirits and they also symbolised the soul’s eternal nature as they didn’t change over time. They associated them with the god, Hermes. However, stones and their associations with burials have been known to many ancient cultures especially Ireland, Scandinavia North Africa, the Middle East and Asia amongst others where they used them to mark sacred territories where communities would gather to honour their dead. Also the Neolithic and Bronze periods in Europe in particular. Stones were used to create cairns. These are usually placed on top of graves as markers and to protect the dead from predators. In the Bronze Age they may have believed that the stones would stop the dead from rising as in the Jewish faith. Some of these still stand. The word ‘cairn’ comes from the Irish ‘carn’ with the plural being ‘cairn’ . In Scottish Gaelic ‘càrn’ translates to ‘heap of stones.’
They were also seen as a method of defence in that it would ward off predators from the burial site.
However, more recently, there has been controversy regarding the building of cairns on certain sites. This is due to the environmental damage that they can cause. Both the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory and the US National Park Service have complained about visitors prying off pieces from important geological features to make them as well as interfering with existing cairns and the destruction of important trail markers. In the Peak District one man has made his mission to kick down the dozens of stacks that he finds. BBC News reported that:
‘Many have been created by taking stones from an old wall which may have damaged the habitats of the small creatures that live inside the wall and may have long term effects according to the National Trust who will also disassemble any stacks.
The stacks are seen as :
…. not to mark any burial sites or act as markers but just create unnecessary stacks for aesthetic purposes forgetting their original purpose as wayfinding tools and symbols rather than decorations.’
The stones that have been left behind on the little seawall shrine, have presumably, come from the beach below and are a poignant symbol of remembrance signifying that the departed has been visited. The stones emphasise the enduring nature of memory and ite sbaility to enable the departed to live on. He is not forgotten by those who knew him and he died at one of his favourite places. RIP.
Loren Rhoads is a US based committed taphophile or cemetery enthusiast, and has written several brilliant, informative books on cemeteries, in the US and further afield. These include:
199 Cemeteries to see before you die
222 Cemeteries to see before you die
Wish you Were Here: Adventures in Cemetery Travel
Death’s Garden Revisited, Personal Relationships with Cemeteries
She is an absolute doyenne in the taphophile world and Loren’s latest, ‘Still Wish you Were Here: More Adventures in Cemetery Travel’ is being crowdfunded on Kickstarter. The backing has already exceeded the requested amount which means that Loren can achieve even more with her book.
In her accompanying video Loren describes ‘Still Wish You Were Here’ as being:
‘part travel memoir, part cemetery history with 36 graveyard travel essays written for various organisations and publications.’
She visited 50 burial sites from Michigan, to London, Singapore, Barcelona, Tokyo and more and has confessed to ‘absolutely loving cemeteries and their stories.’ She finds cemeteries as inspiring as I do . Check out her video at:
I was one of the people who were invited to take part in ‘Death’s Garden Revisited: Personal Relationships with Cemeteries’ which was also successfully funded on Kickstarter. It was a fabulous looking book and I was proud to be part of it and to read other essays by fellow taphophiles. So, I have every faith in Loren creating another terrific book on cemeteries and have backed it myself! But don’t take my word for it – this is what the Association for Gravestone Studies have said:
Every little helps and there are several ‘rewards’ for different levels of backing including a cemetery party! So please, if you are a fellow taphophile and are able to , please consider supporting Loren’s book – if anyone can do it she can!
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.
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.
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.
‘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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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)
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!’
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.
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 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!
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.
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
In April, I was on a literary weekend in Sussex and Kent. We made the town of Rye our base. The town has a rich literary tradition with several famous writers having lived there. Several of them were lucky enough to live at Lamb House, a red brick Georgian house with spacious rooms and a garden that was just beginning to take shape on my visit. Neatly labelled rows of vegetable seedlings gave an indication of what was to come later in the year. There is a magnificent view of St Mary’s church from an upper window and Henry James is commemorated with his writing desk and ‘The Telephone Room’. I love finding pet cemeteries as I find them fascinating and touching.
Lamb House is now owned by the National Trust and when I last visited over 20 years ago, it looked very different. There was an upstairs tenant – lucky them! Now the upstairs rooms have been opened to visitors and on my visit there was an exhibition, ‘Ghost Written’, which featured the house’s most well known writers through their ghost stories.
The American writer, Henry James, (1843-1916) wrote three of his most famous books at Lamb House: ‘The Wings of the Dove’, ‘The Ambassadors’ and ‘The Golden Bowl’. He discovered Lamb House while visiting a friend and instantly fell in love with it. He leased it in 1897 and, two years later, he finally bought it.
The house appears in his novel, ‘The Awkward Age’, where it is Mr Longdon’s home. During James’s time there a literary circle came into being that included Rudyard Kipling and H G Wells amongst others. In 1916, James was very ill in London and wanted to be taken back to Lamb House but he was too ill to be moved.
He was followed by E F Benson (Edward Frederic) Benson (1867-1940) who is known for his Mapp and Lucia novels which are set in a fictional town called Tilling that was based on Rye. They were adapted and made into a successful TV series. I know him through his ghost stories or ‘spook stories’ as he called them. He became Mayor of Rye twice and was awarded the Freedom of Rye which was the town’s highest award. He is buried in the local cemetery on the outskirts of town. ‘Fred’ as he was known bequeathed two colourful windows, the East and the West, in the local church, St Mary’s.
Other writers who lived at Lamb House were Montgomery Hyde and the prolific author of ‘Black Narcissus’, Rumer Godden.
It was in the south western corner of the garden that I found the pet cemetery which was dedicated to Henry James and Fred Benson’s pet dogs. I remembered it from my first visit where it was hidden behind vegetation. The cemetery is a small collection of headstones. There are no cats as, although Henry James, was;
‘A great lover of animals he would chase them (cats) away from the garden’
National Trust guidebook
The first headstone in what James called his:
‘domestic mortuary’
was dedicated to Tosca, his black and tan terrier who died in 1899.
Tosca was followed by Tim who was another terrier, then came:
‘my admirable little Peter’
Then there was another terrier, Nick. But James’s heart was undoubtedly given to Maximilian or Max, a red dachshund. According to his owner Max had
‘a pedigree as long as Remington Ribbon.’
He also described Max as:
‘the gentlest and most reasonable and well mannered as well as most beautiful small animal of his kind to be easily come across.’
Max loved being taken on long walks but, due to his love of chasing sheep, had to be kept on a long leash.
Henry was very upset at having to leave Max behind when he went on an extended trip to the US. He wrote to his lodgers of his homesickness and how much harder it was when thinking of:
Fred Benson also adored dogs and his favourite was a collie called Taffy. This is a photo of them together and Taffy is also commemorated in the East Window of St Mary’s church.
Rumer Godden loved Pekingese dogs and she owned several throughout her life.
I didn’t recall the pet cemetery being so large but the Trust’s intention is to recreate the garden so that it resembles
‘ the space that delighted and inspired Henry James and Fred Benson’
National Trust guidebook
I found the little cemetery with its little plain, simple stones very touching and a poignant reminder that these much loved pets were not forgotten. And as I read the names on the stones they seemed to come alive again racing around the garden at play.
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:
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.
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.
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!
