Natasha Clayton – Page 2 – Natasha Houseman

10 October 202113 October 2021

Martha Handley (1830 – 1921) & William Clapham (1829 – 1893)

Martha Handley, from Justin Clapham’s collection

This is part of a series of brief biographies of earlier ancestors.

On Monday, 1 March 1920, Martha would have been celebrating her 90^th birthday. It had been a fair February that year so perhaps Martha sat on her front doorstep of Blaeberry Croft cosily wrapped in her woollen shawl and headscarf with her faithful dog by her side. How might she be reflecting on those past ninety years?

Martha had lived her whole life in North Rigton, a compact Yorkshire village situated towards the top of a hill. It’s a popular place these days, just a few miles to Harrogate, close to Weeton station giving easy access to Leeds and beyond, with an excellent primary school and a welcoming pub.

During Martha’s childhood it would have felt very different. Yes, the Square & Compass served ale of course, to the men of the village, but it also acted as the place where inquests and other village meetings were held. The church wasn’t built until 1911 . A methodist chapel had been built in 1816 but was replaced in 1932. Farming was hard and winters bleak. Harrogate and Leeds would have felt another country.

Early twentieth century postcard of North Rigton, from www.northrigton.org

Martha was the youngest of five girls and, for a period of time, very much the baby of the family until joined by her illegitimate niece, Matilda. Her older sisters ranged in age from five to sixteen and when she was born in 1830 Martha’s parents, Sarah Halliday & John Handley, likely despaired at the arrival of yet another girl. John was a gamewatcher and farmed a few acres, a precarious existence which relied on sons for labour in their youth and the “pension” for parents in their old age.

Baptism record of William Clapham at Kirkby Overblow, 1829, showing parents as Henry & Hannah Clapham. Note: there was a second William Clapham baptised at a similar time, but 1841 census & William’s marriage record ties to this one.

Then there was William. Likely also a baby of the family as his parents, Hannah Hardcastle and Henry Clapham were aged around 45 and 60 when he was born on 12 March 1829. The Claphams were tenant farmers also living in North Rigton where their family had lived for many generations.

William & Martha were close neighbours, listed on adjoining pages in the 1841 census, and on 4 November 1850, with William having both become the head of household following the death of his father and attained the age of twenty-one, the pair were married at Kirkby Overblow church.

Marriage certificate of Martha Handley & William Clapham,. Kirkby Overblow, 1850

Martha’s reflections likely moved on to her married life and that of her family. Nine children arrived in quick succession all surviving to adulthood. Samuel, the eldest, born in 1854, married to a local woman, with four children all already married, ten grandchildren and more to come. Martha might even have had a letter in her hand from Samuel’s son, William, who had emigrated to Canada a few years ago. Joseph, her baby, born in 1871, had got married in Hartlepool, but had thankfully chosen to come back to nearby Fairview Farm, so Martha would have regularly seen his six children. Samuel & Joseph were doing just fine.

It was the middle children Martha worried about. Henry (b. 1856), Hannah (b. 1858), William (b. 1861), Abigail (b. 1866) and Mary Grace (b. 1870) had all remained unwed. Henry had died in 1902, but the others were all still living close by. They supported each other with the sisters acting as housekeepers for the brothers and Mary Grace still living at home with Martha, but was that a life? And of course Sarah (b. 1859) – did she marry, die or disappear after 1881? I haven’t been able to trace her, but Martha would have known.

Then there was Martha or Marie as she now liked to call herself. Born in 1863, she’d always thought differently. “As a young country girl she used to tramp the 12 miles to attend the meetings of Charles Bradlaugh.” Marie was married to John Greevz Fisher and living in Leeds. Her five children, Auberon Herbert, Wordsworth Donisthorpe, Constance Naden, Spencer Darwin and Hypatia Ingersoll were named after anarchists and radical philosophers. Marie was a militant feminist and active suffragette and deserves her own story but right now, sat on her Rigton doorstep, Martha must have wondered how on earth she’d come to raise such a daughter.

The time for sadness would come later, when, perhaps one of Martha’s children would take her on the short trip to Kirkby Overblow church. After more than forty years of marriage, William had died on 13 December 1893 and was buried where the couple married, in Kirkby Overblow together with their son, Henry. That would be the time for sadness and in the meantime, Martha could be happy with her ninety years, surrounded by her family in the village she was born. Martha was to die the following year on 29 March 1921 and was buried with her husband at Kirkby Overblow.

Martha Handley, from Justin Clapham collection

With much gratitude to Martha Handley & William Clapham, my great, great, great grandparents through my paternal Grandad, for bringing up such a wonderful family.

A brief addendum

Sarah didn’t, as it turns out, disappear. She married Richard Hallewell, moved to Armley and had two children, Mary Ellen & Richard Bertram. Indeed, Mary Ellen was staying with her grandparents at the time of the 1891 census which is a reminder to double check all the available evidence. Sarah was widowed sometime between 1909 and 1911 and ultimately moved back to the area.

In 1909, Mary Ellen married one William Houseman and moved to Felliscliffe looping right back into our family. It possible the two would have met when her cousin and my great grandmother Mary Abigail Clapham married George Houseman in 1906. William & George were both second cousins through William’s father, John Houseman, and third cousins through his mother, Ann Houseman. Incidentally this also makes William as closely related to Jesse Houseman, my Grandma’s father as it does to George, my Grandad’s father.

A diagram helping to illustrate the connectedness between cousins Mary Abigail & Mary Ellen’s husbands.

Although I have now identified Mary Ellen she was still absent from Martha’s 90^th celebrations as she had sadly died the previous year.

17 September 202118 December 2021

My life as a Yorkshire hill farmer: written by an eleven year old in 1987

All photos are taken from my school geography book. The images were all clipped from magazines and stuck in a school exercise book back in 1987 and as such i don’t know who to credit. If they happen to be yours do let me know.

This week’s #52ancestors hint of “on the farm” had me flummoxed. When your father, both grandfathers, all four great grandfathers and many, many generations before them were all Yorkshire hill farmers, life on the farm is woven into at least half of what I write. How can I either synthesise all of that history into one blog or even pick just one story to tell?

Then I thought of the geography homework I was set in my first year at secondary school when I was eleven years old. We were tasked with writing about a year in the life of a hill farmer in the Pennines. I remember writing this sat in my Grandma’s kitchen at Prospect Farm. The open fire with an old oven was by my side, installed (I believe) when my great grandparents moved in, and now used only to keep orphan lambs warm. My Grandma & Aunt were ready waiting to answer questions and there was a pile nearby of Farmers Weekly and other magazines to cut pictures out of to help illustrate the story. The words flowed and it was no surprise that writing about the life I knew earned me a special commendation.

This story was nothing less than a year in the life of my Dad, my Grandparents and likely my Great Grandparents too. This was life as a Yorkshire hill farmer in the 1980s and as such I have transcribed rather than edited. (Including putting aside the slight geographical liberty in the first line – the Pennines don’t quite continue as far as Harrogate). The added benefit is just a hint of how we spoke which even now (after so many years away from Yorkshire and from farming) causes people to guess where I am from.

There’s also a bonus story. Apparently an eleven year old me had figured out how to solve the financial problems of a hill farmer and it just made me laugh.

My life as a hill farmer, 13 February 1987

Our Farm

My Farm is in the Pennines somewhere near the town of Harrogate. As I have mainly sheep, I only need one farm help, his name is Andrew. The farm buildings are quite ancient as most farm buildings are. My family have lived in it for years on end. During the early summer months there is not much work to do and my son comes over so Andrew is not needed. Late summer he is needed though because of the Haymaking. Other times as well are busy such as Lambing time and winter.

January

January isn’t that bad a time, so it just starts off the new year. The cattle are in the barns and yards so they have not far to go to get to the milking parlour. The snow is still quite bad though, and the shaeep have to be brought down to be sorted, to see which ones need to go to the market. The sheepdog came in handy with these.

How I wish it wasn’t so snowy round here about half a mile down the road they’ve never seen this snow, this January.

February

The lambing season is well under way, we started early enough – beginning of January, but they are coming thick and fast now. We’ve had quite a lot of calves too, but as they come all year round, to make milk, it’s nothing new.

We rolled the hayfields this month ready for fertiliser, and manure that the cows have made in winter. We let the cows out into the pasture, but took them in at night as it is still very cold and damp.

No pet lambs so far all the orphan and triplet lambs have been fostered, thank goodness.

March

I was glad to put the cows out this month. They’ve eaten too much hay, because the winter has been so bad. Some of the bullocks were sold this month in the market, I think I bought too much as well, The sheep have all finished lambing except for one old ewe, she’s probably saving it for April. Still never mind all the others have finished. It was tillaging time, because I put the manure on, in February. The hay has just got to grow now and it’ll be ready for July – August time. One problem with the cows out is that you have to fetch them further for milking.

April

The lambs and sheep are back on grass upomn the hills. We needn’t worry about them for a while.

There’s plenty of showers in April so for a while the sheep flock down in the valley and near the fences, as they are normally indoors for lambing, The old ewe lambed on the 1^st second in April. I knew she’d do that, she likes to lamb in April but she couldn’t last any longer. We had some more calves this month and a bit more milk, too much in fact, I was over quota, oh dear!

May

Three more calves were born this month and that’s it for now, til about September.

We had to round the sheep up for shearing, because the shearers have come, the sheep-dogs didn’t let us down today. They didn’t get all the sheep done in one day in took 5 days in all to clip 5000 seep, and only one man was clipping at once, because we only have one clipper, while the others were eating tea or having a drink.

June

Dipping, silaging and checking the hay what a busy month. The dipping was soon done after the clipping and the sheepdogs were definitely needed as they deep don’t like going in the dip. Mind you I wouldn’t either. The hay is nearly ready for haymaking. Maybe in July we’ll harvest it, because this month it’s first cut silage. There was a lot so Andrew had to stay on and help us otherwise we wouldn’t get it all done. The sheep are now going high up in the hills, so high in fact that I have to go up at least once a week to check them, The cattle have been confined to a small space for the moment so there is enough grass for hay and silage. We do keep a few hens and they are really laying now, if we could find the nests.

July

Haytiming has come, and all the preparing hasn’t gone to waste, it is a lovely harvest which should keep the cows through the winter. It was a busy time throughout from 5 o’clock to 10 o’clock at night. Just as the last load came in it started to rain. We were lucky. Unlike our neighbours who had two fields left when it started. Just like we were last year. The sheep have disappeared over the top so we have to go and count them everyday and by it is windy over there. We’ve let the cows in to the hay field so there’s a bit more room now and are making a bit more milk, thank goodness.

August

Haytiming over, and a short second cut silage maybe, but the weather has been so bad. Andrew says down town its nice and dry with maybe two showers at the most, here it’s raining every second.

Maybe I’ll have to sacrifice the second cut silage for the cows. Later on I did just that, sacrificed the second stage for the cows, and next day it cleared up fine. Why did I do that. The cows are lucky though, they get a lot more grass and are producing more richer milk. I just hope I don’t go over quota, I have been three times this year. The sheep are doing alright though. Some of them have come back over the hill which means it must be getting colder.

September

Raining again, when will it stop raining, It’s always bad weather up here. My best dog Lassie has had pups so she’s now out of action so I have only Laddie and Bill to round up the sheep for counting. I’d rather be an arable farmer because all their work is nearly done and can have a rest during winter. I have to carry on all through the winter counting sheep and milking cows. The cows are still producing milk, but one or tow of them are going to have calves in the next month or so,

October

It’s nice to see some new calves but it’s such bad weather, I’ll have to keep them inside and some of the cows have to go in at night, more will in time I suppose. The sheep are sheltering by the fences for warmth. I’ll take the rest of the cows in next month early on though because it started snowing in November last year. I’ll probably have to buy some feed in this year because I didn’t get enough silage to feed all the cows. That will be more expense I suppose.

November

More calves, I’ll have to take some to the market with some bullocks and some cows because I can’t possibly keep them all on so little food. The sheep dippers came last month. When we rounded up the sheep they were eager to come down because they thought they were going inside. What a surprise met them when they had to go in a cold bat instead. Poor things I wouldn’t make them if I didn’t have to. The cows are staying inside now it will be a bit warmer at least, and I have got quite a few calves. Just at the end of November it snowed. Thank goodness I’ve got all the cows in, but it was only a small shower, a small part of what is due to come.

December

Last month of the year, but the snowiest one yet.

What an end. The sheep need feeding every day now and the hay is going down, I wish I hadn’t sacrificed the silage early on. The cows are producing calves and milk and to do that they need more food. I’ll definitely have to buy some in. But, still there will be plenty of calves for next year. No Christmas for me this year, some of the sheep are going to have lambs soon and they have to be looked after, maybe on New Years even we can go out, or maybe we will be snowed in.

Bonus story: financial problems of a hill farmer

Written on 17 February 1987

A Hill Farmer needs to make money to survive and to feed his family. There are some ways of doing this

Don’t buy in as much food
Keep as many cows as possible
Don’t go over quota
Unless the sheep can’t get to grass don’t feed them
Make enough silage and hay to last the winter and keep it dry
Get orphan lambs another mother
Do your own walling
Grow something like turnips seep eat the stubble ones
Find a job in town

Sometimes Farmers decide to move to town. There can be several reasons for this:

The weather, snow rain and wind
Farmers have to rise early
They don’t often go out because they need to go to bed early
They are often in isolated places
They are busy all day long
The animals might have got a disease eg foot rot or even foot and mouth
The hay might be ruined
Milk might go well over quota
The bank might be in the red.

The earnest advice of an eleven year old!

With much gratitude to all my farming ancestors and particularly to my Grandma & my Aunt who were there by my side when I wrote this story and to my geography teacher of the time, Mrs Swales, who set the assignment.

12 September 202118 December 2021

A Singer sewing machine

The Singer sewing machine today, own photo

My beautiful Singer sewing machine arrived home on Wednesday after many months in the repair shop and, with this week’s #52ancestors theme being “working”, there’s really only one story to write. This is the story Mary Booth (aka Nana, my mother’s mother) or more specifically Mary’s working life as a dressmaker.

Mary was just fourteen when she started work as an assistant at a ladies’ outfitters shop at the smart address of The Grove, Ilkley. Each day she would jump on her bike and cycle the four miles each way from her home in Askwith. Each day her sewing skills developed.

It was her father, Arthur Booth, who had found her this role and it was her father who bought Mary her first sewing machine, a Singer 201K1.

The Singer 201K manual, that tells me I should thread from right to left for this particular machine. Own photo.

This beautiful treadle machine was first produced in 1935. Top of the range, they were expensive to buy. “Favoured by tailors and professional seamstresses because of the large ‘harp’ space, to accommodate bulky fabric, they could easily cost 6 months wages and so were frequently purchased on credit” and I like to think was a the demonstration of a a father’s love for his female child.

Mary’s skills swiftly progressed, and, with her own machine she was able to take on commissions. Demand grew and by her late teens Mary had left the ladies’ outfitters: she was setting up on her own. In the 1940s people still tended to make their own clothes or commission others to do so. This was particularly the case for people of an unusual size or for special occasions. Mary had customers and a viable business.

The wedding of Hilda Booth & George “Bud” Nelson on 7 September 1946. All dresses (and accessories) made by Nana. Photo own collection

On the 7 September 1946, Mary’s older, and only, sister, Hilda Booth, married George “Bud” Nelson. It was eighteen-year-old Mary who made the outfits for bride & bridesmaids right down to the bright red fingerless gloves. Imagine the pressure! Yet, it also made a wonderful advert for Mary’s skills and wedding dresses became a speciality for many decades. Her own wedding in 1948 & her daughter’s (my Mum) in 1973 illustrating the longevity of her career. Family & friends aside (for Mary was a kind and generous person and known to undercharge) dressmaking provided a steady income for many years until arthritis finally became too severe to continue.

Fingerless gloves made by Mary to wear at her sister’s wedding. Own photo.

Yet what of this wondrous sewing machine? The first Singer 201K was a treadle and these were fast being replaced by those with an electric motor. Recognising the investment, Mary had a motor added and continued to use the same machine until sometime in the late 60s/early 70s when she finally acquired a more modern version with money saved from her dressmaking. The old Singer was relegated to an upstairs bedroom.

It is this newer machine that I remember, sitting in the corner of the main room that served as living & dining space. There was a bin of material scraps by its side, reams of materials underneath and an old chocolate box full of shuttles. It is where I learnt to sew.

A teddy bear I made as a child under my Nana’s tutorship. Own photo – the scanner doesn’t do it justice!

I inherited the old Singer machine, I think when Nana & Grandpy finally moved from the farmhouse to a modern bungalow in the 1990s.

I’m ashamed to admit that, for the last twenty years, this wonderful machine has acted as little more than a table for displaying family photos. Then, about three years ago, I bribed a friend, Rachel (with the promise of an afternoon of sewing with gin & tonic) to help me get over my nervousness. We lifted the cover, flipped down the front ledge and pulled the machine from its dusty lair. Rachel, always diplomatic, suggested that twenty years of being under a table had taken a toll and maybe we should stick to gin & tonic. It took me another year to find a repair shop (Tony’s Sewing Centre) who kindly suggested that the electrics were, quite likely, lethal. Fast forward through Covid and finally, the machine that gave my Nana independence is ready to be used again.

With much gratitude to my Mum, who always helps me with these stories, to my friend Rachel, who made me face what needed to be done to get the machine working, to Tony & his wife at Tony’s Sewing Centre in Tufnell Park who brought the Singer back to life, to Amy Johnson Crow whose #52ancestors challenge encouraged me to publish this story and above all to my Nana who we’ll always miss.

11 September 202118 December 2021

Elizabeth Furniss (1817 – 1911) & George Downs (1809 – 1868)

This is part of a series of brief biographies of earlier ancestors.

I turned to Elizabeth & George as part of a plan to ensure I’d fully captured all relevant documents for each of my great, great, great grandparents. A Darley farming couple, I didn’t expect this to be more than a short biography but when I looked into those documents I found a wonderful story of a woman who really came into her own upon the death of her husband.

Darley-cum-Menwith is a typical Yorkshire farming village. Today it is a sought after country location close to Harrogate, commutable to Leeds and right on the borders of the Yorkshire Dales. In the mid-nineteenth century it was a thriving village. The 1841 census lists 725 people living in around 150 households who worked in agriculture or as shoemakers, linen weavers and wheelwrights. There was a church, two methodist chapels and a friends meeting house, a school, grocers and public houses. It was a self-contained village – even the arrival of a railway station in the 1860s meant you took a day trip to Harrogate, it didn’t mean you married out of the area.

The Great British Agricultural Depression was yet to hit and Darley was thriving.

So let’s meet Elizabeth & George at the time of the railways and specifically in the year 1866. Elizabeth was 49, George eight years older. Elizabeth was born in Darley in 1817, the daughter of a local farming couple, Mary Pullan & Joseph Furniss, and she married George Downs, on 2 November 1836 at the age of nineteen. George, aged twenty-seven when they married, was the third son of another local farming family, Mary Beecroft & John Downes. The couple spent their early married life living with George’s parents no doubt whilst they were searching for a suitable tenancy. Such was the life of a third son and those they married.

Thornthwaite church (c) Calverleyinfo www.calverley.info

By 1866 they’d made it – 30 acres of land on Craike Lane and six surviving children, Mary (b. 1836), Salina (b. 1839), George (b. 1841), Elizabeth (b. 1847), John (b. 1852) and Ann (b. 1858). There’s a reason for choosing 1866 and it’s not just about the railway. On 22 September of that year, Elizabeth & George’s eldest daughter, Mary, married Thomas Houseman, another local farmer, and that union ultimately led to me. I can imagine that wedding at the beautiful Thornthwaite church with the trees turning their autumn colour. There would have been the traditional seating complications as Elizabeth’s brother, John, had married the groom’s sister, Mary, but at least that likely ensured family presence. The date was no doubt chosen to be post harvest and it wouldn’t surprise me if the ceremony was scheduled to allow for milking time. Elizabeth & George could be proud of the family they had brought up.

Then, just over a year later, on 7 December 1867, George wrote a will. Maybe he was already ill or maybe he was approaching 60 and conscious of his young family. Whatever the reason, it was timely, he died a few months later, on 21 May 1868.

It was a precarious time. Elizabeth, aged 51, was left to raise a family the majority of whom were female and under age. The eldest son, George, had married, the younger son, John was just sixteen. Farm tenancies didn’t pass automatically to women or underaged boys. The Great Agricultural Depression was just starting and farming was becoming less viable. It would have been very easy for the family to progress to the workhouse.

It is the will that suggests that Elizabeth had this under control. Written months before he died it suggests a confidence in her ability and the likelihood of a couple who had discussed and prepared for George’s death.

George asks that Elizabeth “remain tenant and manager of the farm occupied by me if permitted to do so by the proprietor.” He orders that the “remain of my personal estate shall be equally divided among my son George and my other surviving children share and share alike” and directs that “before this division there be an auction sale of my personal effects such as farming stock implements household furniture etc”

The normal practice is for fathers to leave the bulk of their estate to their eldest son to ensure a viable farm is passed on. The only exception being where an eldest son is already fully set up in business or they have fallen out, and as the son George is named as an executor that doesn’t appear to have been the case. George didn’t do this – he intended for his wife to remain in charge, split his estate equally and specified that everything should be sold before the estate was split. My personal experience is it’s incredibly difficult to properly value everything in a farm business and incredibly expensive to set up from scratch. If you want to ensure equal inheritance this is the way to do it, but it runs the very real risk that none of the sons inherit sufficient to set up on their own.

What all of this (together with other evidence) suggests is that Elizabeth was very much a partner in this farm and that George cared deeply about his wife and all his young family.

Elizabeth took on the tenancy of the farm and by 1881, at the age of 64, had doubled the acreage. Her remaining children went on to marry well and all lived long fulfilling lives. Ten years later, in 1891, aged 74 she was living with her daughter, Ann, but was described as living by independent means. Ditto 1901 and 1911. Finally, at the age of 94, Elizabeth died on 31 July 1911. She lived almost half her life as a widow and had thrived.

___________

There are missing pieces to this story. I am sure there are documents concerning the passing of the tenancy and I know there’s a lot more I could write about the life of farmers at this time. However, the big gap for me is that I have no photo of Elizabeth. Despite this competent and, quite possibly, formidable woman reaching the grand old age of 94, I’ve found no trace of an obituary, her story or any photos. This blog is the start of a journey to rectify that.

With much gratitude to Nathalie Pithers for running the excellent Curious Descendants Club at which Tina Konstant ran such an inspiring story telling session that I spent the rest of the evening writing this blog and, of course, to Elizabeth Furniss & George Downs, my great, great, great grandparents through my paternal Grandad, for leaving me such a wonderful story to write.

22 August 2021

Harry Clough & Frank White – cousins who died in WW1

Slowly & steadily, I am working through the box of old photographs that belonged to my great grandmother (Hilda Mary Scott, mother of my Grandma). There are perhaps two hundred or more photos, few are labelled and even those that are can be hard to figure out. Amongst them are several young men in uniform, friends, perhaps, of my great grandmother including these two photos of Harry Clough & Frank White.

Postcard labelled “Harry Clough. Died 1918.” Own collection.

Postcard labelled “Frank White killed March 29/18 in Flanders after 3 years service. Buried at St Amand’s, nr Arras”. Own collection

I was curious, it was a rainy Sunday afternoon, so I started to do some research. I took a guess that the men would have been born in Yorkshire c. 1896 or so and hit lucky. I found an index of graves in St Amand on ancestry which gave me the names of Frank’s parents.

Then I found a findagrave listing for an Able Seaman Harry Clough who died in 1918. The photo I had was definitely one from the navy. Finally, I spotted an entry which suggested Frank’s mother’s maiden name was Clough and the hunt was on for a connection.

A bit more work and I was able to establish that Harry’s father, William Clough, and Frank’s mother, Sarah Ann Clough, were siblings, children of Edward Clough & Hannah Wilks. Harry & Frank were first cousins.

Wilks sounded familiar so I decided to research a further generation and discovered that James Wilk[e]s was born in Felliscliffe, which is where many of my family are from, encouraging me to carry on. Back again – James was the son of a Francis Wilkes & Hannah Darnbrough. Darnbrough and Darnbrook are essentially different spellings of the same name which was the final link. Hannah turned out to be the daughter of William Darnbrook & Elizabeth Swale (my 5x great grandparents) and sister to Ellen Darnbrook, Hilda Mary Scott’s great grandmother. The family connection was established. These two anonymous young men, who gave their lives for their country in WW1 are anonymous no longer. Frank Harry White was born on the Isle of White in 1895. Harry Clough was born on 3 December 1897 in Baildon, Yorkshire. The parents of these two young men were third cousins to my great grandmother, Hilda Mary, and, it seems, the families were still in touch even to that generation, suggesting a real closeness in the family. Distant cousins, and my great grandmother’s friends. Their memory lives on.

15 August 202115 August 2021

Walter Scott (1893 – 1900) – the tragic story of a boy shot by his friend

The portrait of Walter Scott, aged four, hanging in my mother’s living room, own photo

“I can shoot you” said the elder friend as he picked up the gun the boys found lying around. And so, he did.

Thus goes the family story of Walter Scott, passed down from Walter’s sister, Hilda Mary Scott, to her daughter Mary, my Grandma, and then to me. My Grandma loved to tell the tales of tragic death but it’s the beautiful, almost life-sized portrait of four-year-old Walter that has made his story so compelling. It is thanks to this portrait too, that I know so much about Walter’s story. My Dad inherited this picture from his Grandfather, Hilda Mary’s husband, Jesse, following Jesse’s death in 1977 and Aunt Clarrie, Walter & Hilda Mary’s younger sister wrote to my Grandma to tell of its history.

Letter from “Aunt Clarrie” (Clarice Scott, sister to Walter Scott), to Mary Houseman (my Grandma) sharing the history of the portrait, written on 12 January 1911, own records

Walter was born on 27 March 1893 above the family grocer’s shop in Langthorpe near Boroughbridge. He was the fourth of the eight children of Maria Reynard & John Scott. The Scott family were relatively prosperous for the time although not without their own sad tales. The first-born son, Charles, had died aged just two from an infection caused by a scratch on a rusty nail in his playpen (another of Grandma’s tales).

It was also a close and happy family. Maria’s sister, Aunt Nellie (Sarah Ellen Reynard who married a distant cousin, William Reynard) was unable to have children and asked if she might adopt one of Maria’s. “Mother said No, she couldn’t spare any one of us” records Aunt Clarrie. Nellie & William were later to adopt a boy, William Watson, at some point after 1901.

When Walter was four, a travelling photographer, C Watson from Ripon, arrived in the village. Aunt Clarrie picks up the story. He was a beautiful little boy of 4 years old when that photo was taken. A traveling photographer came to the shop & asked my Mother if he could take his photo, so she said yes. It was so good, so later on, he asked if he could paint & enlarge it, in colour. It would cost £5 which was a lot of money in those days. However, they agreed & this picture was so beautiful it was sent to an exhibition & shown all around. My Mother was getting anxious about it, but eventually it came back & it was our pride & joy.

The original photo of Walter Scott, aged four, taken c. 1897 by C Watson of Ripon. Own photo.

In the summer of 1900, Aunt Nellie asked if Walter might come and stay for a holiday and Maria agreed so Walter went to stay with his Aunt & Uncle at Birstwith. On 16 August, Walter asked his aunt if he might go with his friend, Edward Fraser, to collect eggs from the stable and cowshed and his aunt agreed, presumably thinking the thirteen year old Edward would take good care of the seven year old Walter.

Unbeknown to Aunt Nellie, one of the Reynard’s farm labourer’s George Smith, had been having trouble with his gun, a breech-loader, when he had been out shooting rats earlier in the month. The extractor had broken, the cartridges were too tight to remove and so he’d left the loaded gun by the door of one of the outbuildings. Edward, being a curious teenage boy found the gun and picked it up. Walter, being a frightened child, pleaded with him to put it down then turned to scramble over the railings to get out of the way. Too late, the gun went off shooting Walter in the back.

Reports from the Yorkshire Herald on 17 & 20 August 1900 recording first the accident and then the inquest. Note the first report refers to the friend as Gill, aged nine. The inquest report refers to Edward Fraser, aged thirteen. The inquest report has been taken as the correct one

Uncle William ran to the barn after hearing the report, he picked Walter up and ran back to the house. The doctor arrived to examine Walter and found him in a sorry state with both flesh & ribs blown away. Walter’s mother, Maria, was also sent for. Walter, loyal to the end cried “Tell Teddie I forgive him. He did not know it would go off” as he died, we believe, in his mother’s arms.

The funeral card to Walter Scott, own records

Walter was buried at Kirkby Hill on 19 August, later joined by his parents, and the inquest the following day returned a verdict of “death by misadventure killed by the discharge of a gun” and the tragic end of a beautiful child.

West Yorkshire County Coroner’s records, 1900

With much gratitude to Walter Scott, my great, great Uncle, who, despite his short life left a story that has lasted a hundred years, Clarice Scott, my great, great Aunt, who told the story of Walter’s portrait, to my Grandma for passing on the tale and to Amy Johnson Crow whose 52 ancestors in 52 weeks challenge encouraged me to publish this series of stories.

13 August 202128 October 2022

Sarah Stansfield (1804 – 1885) & John Houseman (1805 – 1884)

This is part of a series of brief biographies of earlier ancestors.

Sarah Stansfield & John Houseman are the parents of Thomas Houseman, father of George Houseman, father of George Houseman, my Grandad, and hence are my paternal great, great, great grandparents.

Sarah was born on 8 December 1804 in Strangford, Idle to Methodist parents. It seems my family were fairly early Methodists and thanks to a dual registration I know Sarah’s birth, baptism, parents, her father’s father and where they lived. Unless of course there were two Sarah Stansfield’s born on the exact same date……

*Baptism record of Sarah Stansfield – Upper Chapel, Idle, Yorkshire – 1805*

*Record of birth of Sarah Stansfield – St Wilfred’s church, Idle – 1805*

Of John, all we know is that he was baptised in Hampsthwaite on 15 April 1805 so was maybe just a few months older.

Sarah & John married on 13 October 1830 in Hampsthwaite. At the time Sarah could write, John was illiterate. Another legacy of the Methodist tradition? By the time of their marriage Sarah was living in Hampsthwaite, perhaps with some of her mother’s family and I suspect Methodism was how they met – at least the family continued to hold the same faith for several generations.

The couple quickly settled in Tunnel Bank, Darley, close to John’s family, perhaps even taking over a family farm, where they lived for the remainder of their lives. With 64 acres to their name, the couple would have been a respected part of the Darley community.

Four children followed at regular intervals: John (ch. 1832), Thomas (my ancestor) (ch. 1834), William (ch. 1836) and Mary (ch. 1838). All seemed like the perfect, respectable, farming family. Yet, William died aged in 1844 aged just eight, John never married and Mary married a widow twelve years her senior and had just two children of her own. It was left to Thomas to carry on the family name. I was reminded about a comment my Grandma apparently made that “there wasn’t much choice.” Did this respectable family, with strong Methodist links, a focus on literacy and a family that came from 16 miles distant somehow struggle with the Darley community of the time?

Nonetheless the Methodist temperate life likely led to the last facts we know of the couple, that they lived long lives. John died on 13 November 1884 aged 79, Sarah just six months later on 4 May 1885 aged 80. Both are buried in Birstwith. Long lives, that I think, were well lived.

Postscript: it is through Sarah Stansfield that we “could” be descended from royalty.

1 August 2021

Swinsty Hall – from seventeenth century ancestors to Euro2020

Norwood School’s seventeenth century day at Swinsty Hall. I am in the middle holding my baby brother, David. My sister Helen is to the left having been chosen to represent the wealthy owners, my oldest friend, Andrea, is just behind her to the left. The head teacher, Miss Robinson, is at the back. Own photo, 1985.

On 3 July 2021, as England were preparing for their quarter final match against the Ukraine, I was in Fewston – catching up with my oldest friend, Andrea (featured in the photo above), traipsing through knee high grass in the graveyard with my third cousin, Paul, and reliving childhood memories gazing across the adjoining reservoir towards the gabled rooftop of Swinsty Hall.

Later I was idly wondering whether we were related to any of the five Yorkshire-born players and Google, being Google, gave me an answer. It turns out our family connection to the England team is not with the players, but with the manager, as the gabled rooftop I was reminiscing over is the current home of Gareth Southgate and this being the Washburn Valley there was bound to be a family connection.

Back in 1985 my sisters & I were all attending the tiny village school of Norwood. What do I mean by tiny? I had two fellow pupils in my year group (one being Andrea). My sister Helen had none, she was the sole person in her school year. When I left the following summer there were twenty-seven pupils and when the school closed a few years later there were just sixteen. By contrast, I was walking with a London-born friend last week. As we passed one of the ubiquitous four-story Victorian London primary schools, he commented that he had long thought everyone went to schools of this kind where sixty plus pupils were admitted every year.

When one or two teachers are trying to effectively educate children ranging in age from four to eleven you have to be creative and engage with the whole community and that’s how we ended up at Swinsty Hall re-enacting the seventeenth century studying clothing, food, dancing & the English civil war. We were joined by parents (well, mothers), younger siblings and even the local vicar all dressed in seventeenth century garb. Lunch was served on the massive oak table in a wood panelled dining room and afterwards there was square dancing on the lawn surrounded by old flower beds.

Swinsty Hall taken from “The Old Halls and Manor Houses of Yorkshire” Louis Ambler, 1913

By 1985, Swinsty Hall was somewhat neglected. It had been owned by the Leeds Corporation & the Yorkshire Water Authority since the reservoir had been built in the 1870s, at times having multiple occupancy at others having large sections boarded off. Perhaps as a result of that neglect my memories accord with much of William Grainge’s description in his 1895 book “The history & topography of the townships of Little Timble, Great Timble and the hamlet of Snowden in the West Riding of the County of York”.

“The front of the hall is simple, yet elegant, consisting of a centre and projecting wings, the latter like square towers, finished with gables and pinnacles at the angles and apex…..On the right is the great hall, a spacious room twenty-one feet square. The beams supporting the upper floors throughout the building are splendid specimens of oak timber, resting on corbels springing from the walls. The floor of this room has been originally laid with lozenge-shaped flagstones, some portions of which yet remain near the walls…… A door leads from this into the drawing-room, or dining-room;…..The doors are all made of oak, without nails; the battens; four in number, being fixed by wooden pins, with the heads projecting a little by way of ornament on the inner side, the two middle ones with three rows, and the top and bottom with only one each. This room is wainscoted with panelled oak, finely carved at the upper border and around the fireplace…… The window is of twelve lights, the upper six of which yet retain their antique glazing, being variegated with stained glass; on one piece are the letters H.R.G. and the date 1627, the initials of Henry Robinson, the first owner of Swinsty of that name, and his wife. In this room is preserved a piece of the original furniture — a dining table, 17 feet 6 inches in length, by 3 feet in breadth, and the same in height, made of planks of solid oak, two inches thick, with massive frame and legs of the same material. This table has doubtless played its part in many a hundred feasts, and it is yet as strong, and clean, and bright, as when the wealthy owner of Swinsty, in the day of its highest greatness, sat at its head and dispensed hospitality. The forms, or benches, on which the feasters have been perched also yet remain; they are of such height that those seated on them would have to rest their feet on the lower frame, as they could not reach the ground……In the garden, a few old-fashioned plants remain, such as the Robinsons cultivated when they dwelt here ; roses red and white, aconite, rosemary, balm, lavender, peony, box, and golden rod ; while the wall is partially hidden by the green and golden masses of stone crop, and the walls of the old mansion are coated over with grey and golden lichen”.

Swinsty Hall’s heyday WAS the seventeenth & early eighteenth centuries and what i wasn’t aware of back in 1985 was that I was highly likely to have been feasting & dancing in the footsteps of my ancestors.

For much of the rest of this blog I have to thank my third cousin, Paul for his research. The same third cousin who was wading through knee-high grass in Fewston church. Paul & I first connected through a DNA match site, which is kind of strange as we grew up in the same village (albeit a few years apart) and he knew my uncle from primary school. He even appears on the wallpaper charts I drew up with my Grandma back in the 1980s. We are third cousins through Amelia Bradbury & Michael Houseman (the parents of Jesse Houseman, the father of my Grandma, Mary Houseman). Such is the inter-related nature of small Yorkshire villages I have since discovered several more distant connections. One of these connections is the Hardisty line which leads us back to the Robinsons the owners of Swinsty Hall for nearly two hundred years. Or rather almost……

Swinsty “old” hall was built for the Wood family in the first half of the sixteenth century. The far more substantive “new” hall was added in the 1570s, a wedding gift for Francis Wood & Ellen Sutell from Ellen’s father, Henry. However, Francis seems not to have had the means to maintain such a grand property. By 1590 he was in such debt that he signed over the property to Henry Robinson in exchange for writing off a debt of £2,000. Thus, Henry became the first Robinson to own Swinsty Hall.

Henry left Swinsty Hall to his son John. That is relatively straightforward.

John divided his estate up early. He gave Swinsty “old” hall to his son John, who then sold it to his older brother Henry for a nominal sum of just five shillings in 1681. John then deeded the “new” hall to Henry in 1683 thus re-uniting the two parts.

Henry had no heir and so left Swinsty Hall to his nephew, also named Henry. Henry then sold the property to his father, Edward, in 1725 and his father also inherited the remainder of the estate when this Henry, too, died childless.

Edward decided to bypass his children and bequeathed Swinsty Hall direct to his grandson John. And whilst John had one son, he died before John and the Hall was left to his daughters Mary & Ann, finally ending Robinson ownership after 182 years.

Meanwhile, Mary & Ann’s cousin, another Ann Robinson married Samuel Hardisty & they had a child Anne Hardisty in 1782. Anne is Paul’s 4 x great grandmother. Knowing I was related to Paul via the Hardistys I naively thought that meant that I too was related to the Robinsons and thus to the owners of Swinsty Hall. It turned out to be a little more complicated. Anne married another Hardisty, William, whose grandparents, Robert Hardisty & Ellen Kirton were my 7 x great grandparents. Whilst the Hardistys and the Kirtons were both established Fewston families it seems that they may have only been feasters at that grand oak table rather than the ones sitting at the head dispensing hospitality and it is not beyond the realms of imagination that they might have danced in the very same gardens my immediate family did in 1985.

So, whilst my connection to the Euro2020s seems somewhat tenuous, I can perhaps say that both my seventeenth century ancestors and my more immediate family have eaten in the grand panelled dining room of the current England manager’s home.

Images from www.ukhomesearch.org.uk showing the gardens we danced in and the hall in which we ate, Swinsty Hall

With much gratitude to my third cousin, Paul, Norwood County Primary School and my Hardisty ancestors. `

9 June 202118 October 2021

Sardines & Cadbury’s Roses

I only realised when I was older how much my Mum valued the rare occasion when she could have an evening that was her own. My Dad died in 1984, I was nine, my brother three months and there were three sisters inbetween. The five of us needed so much love, support and encouragement and Mum was the person responsible for us all. Yet she herself was a person, grieving her husband, trying to find her way back to life – she was just 32. That’s where Nana & Grandpy (my Mum’s parents) stepped in and had us all to stay. The farmhouse was theoretically three bedrooms but the smallest one had long since become the storage space for my Nana’s dressmaking activities – materials, patterns and jars and jars of buttons, mainly stored in those old glass Cadbury’s Roses’ jars. So we slept in my Mum’s childhood bedroom. One wall was the wardrobe, dressing table and airing cupboard (making plenty of strange watery gurgles throughout the night). If i remember rightly there was a chest of drawers on one side, then, crammed in the rest of the space, one double and one single bed. Top to toe, the five of us slept in these two beds like sardines packed in a tin. Yes, it was not without the occasional cross word or foot fight and we still tease each other about snoring (although that mainly relates to more recent experience) but tucked up tight, five in two beds, we felt safe and loved and (unbeknown to me at the time) my Mum could slowly learn to heal and be the most amazing person she is.

A short blog inspired by Genealogy Stories Curious Decendants Club.

5 June 202111 November 2021

William Henry Barrett & military service exemptions

William Henry Barrett, 1894 – 1924. Own collection.

It is a family “truth” that, as farmers, we were exempt from military service in both WW1 and WW2. The “truth” of this statement is more complex than it first seems. Whilst none of my direct ancestors fought in either war, several siblings and cousins did including my great, great uncle, William Henry Barrett.

The truth that many farmers didn’t end up on the front line is illustrated through this letter dated 21 May 1946 in relation to George Houseman, my father’s father (Grandad), who had “indefinite deferment of calling up granted to him by the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries.” The letter was sent to his employer, Jesse Houseman, who also happened to be his father-in-law…….

Letter confirming deferment of military service for George Houseman. Own collection.

Farming was a reserved occupation but only once you had reached the age of 25. On my Mum’s side, my Grandpy was eighteen when war broke out, his brother, Henry, twenty-one so both of age to fight. The story passed down is that my great grandfather (George Thomas) sent one of his sons to work elsewhere to avoid them being drafted. We’d always understood it to be my Uncle Henry (the oldest brother) who worked elsewhere but it’s my Grandpy that I can’t find on the 1939 register. Whoever it was, both Grandpy and his brother joined the Home Front in 1941 and did their part in serving the country. This approach was well supported by the local estate manager as the only person from the local community who was drafted to the front was one who had, apparently, fallen out with his father.

But why was George Thomas so keen to keep his sons from the front? This is where William Henry comes in. William Henry was the third and last child of Jane Brooks & Henry Barrett. He was born on 5 December 1894, seven years after his brother, my great grandfather, George Thomas, and fourteen years after his sister, Mary Elizabeth. In photos he very much looks like the cosseted (perhaps unexpected) baby of the family and most definitely on the puny side.

Jane Brooks, Henry Barrett and their three (oldest to youngest) children Mary Elizabeth, George Thomas and William Henry. Own collection.

When war broke out in 1914 many in the locality volunteered to serve. The records of those serving in the 6^th battalion of the Duke of Wellington’s West Riding regiment are helpfully captured in the wonderfully evocative book “Craven’s part in the Great War” which opens with the following: “A humble but sincere expression…of the gallant, heroic and self-sacrificing spirit shown by the sons of Craven in resisting the unscrupulous, malignant and pre-arranged design of Germany and her dupes to crush the British Empire and the civilised countries associated with her.” The authors being “confident that the volume will be treasured as an honoured heirloom in every family who representative has done his share in freeing our beloved Empire from the slavery of German hatred and military aggression.” Sadly, this “honoured heirloom” has failed to make it into my hands.

Pvte W. H. Barrett, 2/6th battalion of the Duke of Wellington (West Riding) Regiment. Own collection.

William’s service record seems to be one of the many destroyed in the blitz. What we do know is that, by 1915, Private W. H Barrett (regiment number 267160) was serving in the 2/6^th Battalion of the Duke of Wellington (West Riding) Regiment, later transferring to the Labour Corps (regiment number 420996). In some senses it seems that William may have been lucky, the 2/6^th battalion was a home services “second line” unit and did not serve at the front until 1917 by which time William may well have transferred to the Labour Corps. His service seems to be neither distinguished nor undistinguished, just one of the many young men that went to war and came back, seemingly physically unharmed (as evidenced by WW1 pension records).

Memorial plaque, Greenhow Hill https://greenhow-hill.org.uk/people/1914-1918/

When William’s father, Henry, died in April 1924 his will included a specific bequest of farm stock and implements “in acknowledgement of his service for his country in the late war” presumably setting William up to take over the family farm at Throstle Nest.

Sadly, William only lived a few more weeks. He died on 20 May 1924 of tuberculosis, aged just 29. Unmarried and childless, William is buried with his parents in Pateley Bridge cemetery.

“Something that will never be known is how many soldiers, given living in unhygienic close quarters, often cold and wet, exhausted from continuous combat and lack of sleep, and not always well fed, were infected with tuberculosis or went from a healed primary infection to an active secondary infection while in military service”.

We can’t know whether William caught tuberculosis whilst on active duty and yet his family may have suspected this as being the reason. Perhaps William’s last legacy was to ensure his nephews weren’t put in the same situation when WW2 broke out just a few short years later.

With much gratitude to William Henry Barrett for his service and for his legacy which kept my Grandpy safe from war, to the long long trail for helping me make sense of the regiments and to all those who served. Also, to Amy Johnson Crow whose 52 ancestors in 52 weeks challenge encouraged me to publish this series of stories.

Read more about WW1 & Greenhow Hill in what a birthday date book taught me about WW1 – the first of two stories from Mary Wellock’s birthday date book