Category Archives: Overleigh Cemetery

Beyond the Walls: Chester circular river walk

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The dotted green line is the only way on to the footbridge avoiding steps.

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For those with unwilling legs please note that in [squared brackets, and highlighted in bold], are alternative routes that avoid steps and any other observed challenges.  On the above maps the dotted line in green, is the only way of getting on to the Queen’s Park footbridge avoiding steps.

As well as the numbered sites, turquoise stars show other sites nearby that may be of interest.  Each of the numbered and starred features deserves a post in its own right rather than the short burst of text allowed for each, but hopefully there is enough to make the walk informative as well as enjoyable, and in some cases I have hyperlinked to sites with more useful details.

You can download the text of the walk, including the maps, as a PDF here (but without the introduction, the list of sources and without ink-hogging images).

 

The dotted green line is the only way on to the footbridge avoiding steps

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Introduction

View through the chancel arch of St Mary’s Nunnery through to the Ship Gate. Grosvenor Park.

Together with the city walls, this is my favourite walk in Chester, incorporating some lovely riverside footpaths and green spaces beginning at the Little Roodee car park on Castle Drive.  The entire walk is on metalled surfaces, and is therefore very suitable for all seasons.  It starts with the Grosvenor Bridge, turning in to Overleigh Victorian Cemetery and taking it from there along the River Walk.

There is plenty to enjoy along the south bank of the Dee, with lovely and peaceful riverside walks separating points of interest such as Minerva’s shrine, Handbridge with the Old Dee Bridge and Weir, and the Queen’s Park footbridge. The Groves is the northern counterpart to the River Walk, with its Victorian grandstand and array of cafes, ice cream parlours and the southern stretches of the Roman-Medieval walls.  Back past the Old Dee Bridge, the walk takes in the former old Dee mills, the Gothic Revival hydroelectric station, the remains of the former prison’s outer wall, the Wheeler Building that houses the Riverside Museum and the Royal Infirmary stained glass, and then returns along the river bank to the Little Roodee.

Ice Cream parlour on The Groves

The walk takes in several periods of Chester’s architectural history, from the Roman, through medieval periods, skipping the early Stuart and Civil War years. The Bear and Billet public house on Lower Bridge Street represents the later 17th century, but most of the remaining architectural history on the walk resumes with the Georgian architecture of the 18th century, plunging headlong into ambitious Victorian expansion and alteration.  From a distance, seen from the Grosvenor Bridge, is the Art Deco water tower, which is a nice addition to the mix.  Two examples of the less fortunate periods of 1960s and 70s architecture that afflict Chester like a bad rash also appear, but although one of them is particularly bad (the “Salmon Leap” apartments on the Handbridge side of the Old Dee Bridge) the other is somewhat less objectionable (the ex-Cheshire County County building, now the University of Chester’s Wheeler Building).  A very modern building, nicely done on a budget, is the cafe in the Little Roodee car park with its environmentally friendly “green” roof.

 

The Walk

1) Roodee carpark, toilets and café

The Little Roodee Cafe

The walk starts from the Little Roodee car park on Castle Drive, which lies along the northern edge of the River Dee.  There are plenty of other places in Chester to park, and there is also the very reliable Park and Ride, but this is a useful place to start the walk, including a very nice café with excellent coffee and good snacks, with public toilets within the café (there are other public toilets on The Groves, opposite the bandstand, shown below).  The bottom of the car park provides a good viewing point for no.2, the Grosvenor Bridge.

For those wanting to explore the river walk to the east, circling the edge of the Roodee and over to the west of Chester, this is also an excellent starting point.

The postcode for the carpark is CH1 1SL or the exact location for the entrance to the car park is What3Words ///swung.statue.limp), which can be used in most SatNavs.  If you are coming in by Park and Ride, ask the driver tell you when the stop is approaching for Adobe (big black glass building) on the Grosvenor Road.  The return bus stop is opposite Adobe on the castle side of the road.

2) Grosvenor Bridge

The Grosvenor Bridge

For the best view of the bridge, head downhill in the car park towards the river and turn right towards the bridge, crossing under one of its vast arches.  Look back to see a great view of the the entire span.  For centuries the only bridge across the Dee at Chester was where the late Medieval Old Dee Bridge is now located, following the line established by the Roman bridge at the end of what is now Lower Bridge Street.  This was becoming seriously congested by the 18th century, when both the population and the economy were growing at a considerable pace, and a new bridge was an urgent requirement.  Local architect Thomas Harrison won the contract with his daring proposal for a 200ft (61m) single span that would not interrupt tall-masted river traffic.  It was not merely a new artery for Chester, but a statement of civic pride.  A plaque in the side of the bridge records that work began after an Act of Parliament was passed in 1825, and was paid for by a public loan of £50,000.  It was opened by Princess Victoria on 17th October 1832 (5 years before she became Queen), and was paid for by tolls on both the Grosvenor and Old Dee bridges until 1885, when the tolls were abolished.  The bridge remains a monumental and impressive sight today.

The Grosvenor Bridge shortly after construction. Source: Wikipedia

Retrace your steps and head back up the car park, passing in front of the cafe, and up the flight of steps to the Grosvenor Road, cross at the pedestrian lights, and turn left to walk over the bridge.  [If you want to avoid the steps, head to the other end where the car entrance is, turn left and walk up the road, Castle Drive, to the head of the steps on the corner, and cross at the pedestrian lights and turn left across the bridge].  

From the top of the bridge you can look right (or west) over the Roodee racecourse on the north bank of the river, and the impressive houses that formed the new middle class suburbs of Curzon Park which was developed in the 1840s to accommodate wealthy residents who wished to escape the narrower confines of the increasingly busy and commercial city. Some of the bigger of these buildings have been converted into apartments today.  Look left (east) and you can see the spire of St Mary’s Without The Walls, as well as the Handbridge water tower, a local landmark that is visible from various points in the Chester area, and was influenced by Art Deco designs.

Curzon Park

3) and 4) Three memorials in Overleigh Victorian Cemetery

After crossing the bridge, walk for perhaps 30 seconds and you will see a gateway on your left with wrought iron gates, one of which is open to provide access for pedestrians into the Victorian cemetery.  If you are on the opposite side of the road, there is a traffic island almost opposite to make it easier to cross.  Walk towards the information board and the bench, and pause.  The walk will continue downhill to the right, but we are briefly detouring to the left to see two of the most interesting of the memorials in the cemetery, one of which is a puzzle until you see it on the early 1850s engraving of the cemetery.

Entrance to Overleigh Cemetery

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Overleigh Cemetery in the early 1850s. Source: Wikipedia

Overleigh cemetery was given the go-ahead by the Chester Cemetery Act in 1848.  The land was acquired from the Marquis of Westminster, who exchanged it for a shareholding in the company.  Work was forced to stop for seven months when the money raised was spent, and was not completed until new shareholders could be found.  The cemetery opened in 1850.  Like the Grosvenor Bridge, Overleigh Cemetery, was not merely the result of a Victorian efficiency drive and the desire to return a profit, but also a matter of improving the city in ways that demonstrated a profound interest in the character and status of the expanding city.  Although the cemetery was a pragmatic response to the inability of churchyards to meet demand, the layout and planting of the cemetery reflect country house garden and leisure park designs, with curvilinear drives, gothic revival architecture, a lake, plenty of of trees of different types and a rustic bridge.  Sadly, the only survivors of the architectural features from the 1850 design shown on the above engraving are the tall thin monument at far left, discussed below, and the rustic bridge at far right.  You can read more about the cemetery and its fashionable and elegant design on the blog here.

Now head left past the bench and stop a few seconds away in front of a nicely executed faux Grade II listed Gothic shrine featuring an effigy beneath tan elaborate canopy. It puzzled me that there was no inscription on the shrine, but the actual grave ledger lies flat in front of the shrine over the top of the actual grave, complete with the elusive inscription.  The shrine belongs to the Reverend Henry Raikes, who died in 1854, aged 72. The shrine was designed by architect Thomas Penson, who was the landscape architect for the entire cemetery and who built several buildings in Chester.  It was erected in 1858, funded by public subscription, the progress of which was frequently reported in the local newspapers.  As well as the former Chancellor of the Chester, Diocese Raikes was a philanthropist, a trustee and governor of the Blue Coat Hospital and one of the founders of the Chester “Ragged Schools” that provided education for pauper children.

The ruins of the Robert Turner memorial

Immediately to the right of the Raikes shrines, the second monument of note is the grave marker for Robert Turner (1790-1852), a Chester brewer and wine merchant who, in 1848 was Sheriff of Chester, a largely administrative but important function with the responsibility of keeping the peace, closely linked in to the work of the courts and the prison.  The memorial as it stands today looks very peculiar, a bit like a three-tier cake on space-rocket jet nozzles.  The clues to its original appearance actually still lie at its feet.  Three stone columns lie horizontally, when not semi-concealed by undergrowth.  Look at the engraving above and find the building at top right that looks like a little Classical temple.  This is how the Turner grave marker originally looked. It collapsed at some time in the past, and the tiered roof and although it has been considerably tidied up, reconstruction is no longer possible, and this strangely truncated form is all that is left standing of the memorial monument.

Retrace your steps past the bench and head down the hill until you reach a tall monument (4) in a triangular intersection of the cemetery drives and pause to have a look at it. 

This is not a burial monument but a memorial to William Makepeace Thackeray, 1790-1849, (uncle of the famous novelist) who moved from Denbigh to Chester to practice, and became a great success as a physician, and was renowned for his philanthropic and charitable works. He was buried in Chester Cathedral, but this memorial and its inscriptions celebrate his achievements, including “His attention to their charitable institutions / His consideration for the sick and needy / His kindness to the schoolboy and the orphan.” The memorial also serves as a useful anchor for the cemetery, a suitably impressive focal point that helps to give this part of the cemetery a sense of cohesion.  This is also a very good position to pause and take in the wonderful selection of mature trees, most of which were planted when the cemetery was first laid out.  There is a variety of species, and they were an essential part of the parks-and gardens style layout that was very popular in the Victorian period.

Head to the left. You will see the gateway pillars straight ahead of you.  This opens on to River Lane.  Turn left on to River Lane and turn right when you reach the end, heading east along the lovely River Walk.  The walk from Overleigh to Edgar’s Field is a nice one, consisting of a metalled road flanked by trees and shrubs, with fields to the south and views of the river, depending on the time of year, to the north.

You will emerge from the path onto a short residential road, Greenway Street, and opposite is another gateway, this time into Edgar’s Field. 

5) Edgar’s Field

The entrance to Edgar’s Field

Go through the gate into Edgar’s Field

Edgar’s Field is an open green space given to Handbridge by the first Duke of Westminster in 1892.  The name Edgar, so the story goes, refers to the early medieval King Edgar, great-grandson of Alfred the Great, who was crowned King of England in both Bath and Chester.  His Chester coronation was said to have followed a meeting near the field in AD 973, with leaders (either six or eight) from other regions  after which he was rowed by members of the visiting delegation to St John’s Church, just a little further upriver.  How much of this is legend and how much reality is anyone’s guess.

6) The sandstone outcrop 

Straight ahead there is a choice of going uphill to the right or sticking to the river walk on the left.

You will go right, but pause to look at the amazing sandstone outcrop.  This is a particularly nice piece of bedrock, formed of sedimentary layers laid down, during the Triassic period, 252 to 201 million years ago, when the landscape consisted of Sahara-like desert and abraided rivers.  This is also the period when the dinosaurs Pseuduchium Archosaur (ancestral to modern crocodiles and alligators) and Chirotherium are found, survivors of the Permian extinction (in which 95%) of dinosaurs were wiped out, and of which fossilized footprints have been found in the Triassic sandstones on Hilbre Island at the top of the Wirral.

Sandstone formations on Edgar’s Field

The various lines and colours visible in the Edgar’s Field rock represent the different layers of sediment (bedding) that were laid down by rivers and floods that were laid down as muds and have built up over time.  Nice features include both cross-bedding and slumping, geological features exclusive to sedimentary rocks.  Differences in colour reflect differences in the chemical composition of the sediments as they were laid down, a dramatic example of which is shown in the above photograph of the outcrop.  See more about the Cheshire sandstone in this PDF on the Sandstone Ridge Trust website.

Walk along the path to the right of the outcrop.  A second outcrop appears on your right, and on the face that looks over the big open green is the Minerva shrine, so leave the path and walk up the green slope.

7) Edgar’s Field and the Minerva Shrine

When you are standing in front of the shrine, you will find it very water-eroded.  It is carved directly into outcrop, one of only two known to be still in situ in Britain, and is a Grade II listed Scheduled Monument (1.45m high and 0.73m wide).  The sandstone surround is Victorian in date, added in the hope of preventing further erosion.

The Roman 20th Legion, the Valeria Victrix, arrived in Chester (Deva) in AD76, and in one form or another the Romans remained in Deva until around 380.  Although outside the Roman city walls, Handbridge was an important location because it was the quarry for the Roman town and its walls, the source of its red sandstone building blocks.  Further along the path on an interpretation board is a reconstruction of what the shrine would have looked like, originally with an owl on Minerva’s left shoulder, possibly holding a shield in her left hand, and a spear in her right hand.  Minerva was an interesting choice.  Although better known goddess of wisdom and knowledge, she also served as a protector for those engaged in defensive war, a subtle distinction from aggressive war that might well be attractive to those building protective walls.  The little cave to the right of the shrine was probably carved out to hold votive offerings.  The area around the shrine was excavated in the early 1920s, revealing both that the quarry was in use at around AD100 and that subsequently soil was imported to cover the quarry floor in the late-second century. Roman occupation remains dating from that time on were found on the site. The site was again used as a quarry during the Middle Ages, when Historic England speculates that the Minerva carving may have been re-interpreted in Christian terms and re-used as a Christian shrine.

It is worth walking down to the edge of the river, through the line of magnificent lime trees, to enjoy the excellent views over the medieval Old Dee Bridge bridge.  From there, follow the path for a short distance to the gates out of the park.  You now have the Old Dee Bridge on your left and Handbridge on your right.

8) Handbridge

Handbridge

Handbridge has always has an extra-mural personality of its own.  From the mid 12th century there were mills and quays at Handbridge, when parts of the district were owned by St Mary’s Benedictine nunnery, which seems to have taken over the entire manor by the 13th century.  In the late 14th century industrial activity seems to have been represented by the production of glass, and by the 15th century it is thought to have been a popular area of Welsh migrant settlement.  Welsh residents in the 16th century included a high percentage of the city’s brewers and ale sellers. In the Victorian era it became known as one of the poorer areas, with a high proportion of industrial worker.  Today Handbridge has gone upmarket and is now an attractive residential location with a villagey-atmosphere, with some excellent cafés and pubs for those looking to take a break at this point.  Both Spoilt for Choice and Brown Sugar cafés are great brunch/lunch stops, and the Old Ship Inn is a very fine pub.

Nathaniel Buck’s view of Handbridge in 1928. Source: MutualArt

9) The Old Dee Bridge 

Do not cross the bridge, because the walk continues on the same side of the river, but if you want to stand in the middle and admire the weir, discussed next, it’s an excellent place for getting a good view. 

The Old Dee Bridge

The oldest known bridge to cross the river at this point was Roman, carrying the Via Praetoria from the south gate over the river to link up with the Roman road network, with roads leading directly from Chester to the southeast via Whitchurch to Wroxeter (Vicronium) and the south to London (Londinium) and Caerleon (Isca), and along the north Wales coast to Holyhead (Segontium).  It must have been rebuilt several times over the 300 years of Roman occupation.  The current late Medieval bridge replaces an early Norman bridge, but apparently fell down during the floods of 1227 and had to be replaced.  The construction is interesting.  It is built of the usual local red sandstone, but for reasons unknown, instead of being evenly distributed along the length of the bridge, the arches are each of a different width, giving it a splendidly individual appearance.

The Bridgegate on the opposite side of the river is discussed below.

10)  The Weir

Staying on the same side of the river, cross the road and follow the line of the river for a few steps until you get a good view of the weir.
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Very little is known about the weir itself.  It is generally agreed that it was at least Norman in date, but whether it was actually the elaboration of a Roman innovation is open to debate.  The Romans certainly built weirs, some of them very substantial, but at the moment there is insufficient information to determine the earliest date for it.  Walk a little further down by the side of the river and you will see that on the near side of the weir there are a series of very wide water steps, forming what looks a little like a stepped waterfall; this is a salmon leap, built to enable the fish to navigate their way upstream for spawning.  On an open day at the monitoring station last year I saw one of the salmon being caught for weighing and it looked huge!

The Salmon Leap

11) River monitoring station and ornamental water wheel

Probably the least attractive feature of the Chester riverside is a row of 1960s apartments that you will see from the north side of the river.  You now pass under the concrete overhang of these apartments. There are lovely views over Chester on your left, and you  will reach a small island with a building on it.  

River monitoring station

Water wheel reconstructed in 1988 by the Chester Civic Trust

This is the river monitoring station, where various tests are carried out on the water quality and the condition of the fish themselves.  I was lucky enough to be there on an open day last year when  an enormous salmon was pulled out for weighing before being returned to its journey upstream.  In front of it is a small water wheel, which was installed in the 1980s as a reminder of the former Dee mills that used to be a dominant feature of the medieval riverside and an all-important feature of Chester’s economy in the Middle Ages.  Beyond it is a small sluice that once regulated water into the narrow channel that forms the island.

Carry on walking along the Riverside Walk, enjoying the greenery, until you reach the footbridge, which passes above the path, but has a flight of shallow steps running up either side of it so that you can reach the bridge from the path. [The alternative approach to the bridge, avoiding the steps from the river walk up to the bridge, is a rather long way round and is shown on the above maps as a dotted green line that takes you along Queens Park Road and around Victoria Crescent].

 

12) The lovely Queen’s Park footbridge

In 1851 it was decided that Chester needed a second suburb, in addition to Curzon Park, to be named Queen’s Park, and this was developed throughout the 1850s.  This was also built on the south bank of the river, this time opposite The Groves.

In 1852 a suspension footbridge was built to connect Queen’s Park with Chester, becoming the Queen’s Park Bridge.  The predecessor of the current Queen’s Park footbridge was built in 1852. In 1922 this was taken down, and work began on a new suspension bridge that opened, with some ceremony, in April 1923.  For more information about the opening of the bridge and its contemporary conditions of use, see the entry on the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies blog.

Conceptually, the bridge is the polar opposite of the vast solidity and monumentality of the later 1832 stone Grosvenor Bridge. The 1923 bridge is superbly elegant with delicate lattice metalwork. This latticing and the suspension cables supply a light, airy feeling, which is something to do with the sense of it hanging freely rather than being solidly rooted in the riverbed.  It is a perfect partner for the light-hearted promenade known as The Groves, with its lovely buildings and the similarly elegant bandstand, which is still used today, and the little ice-cream turrets.  Pride in the achievement, common to so many Victorian enterprises, is declared in the panels at the top of the suspension towers, which give the name of the bridge and the date of its construction.  Just as on the Grosvenor Park Lodge, the bridge’s towers feature the shields of Chester’s Norman earls.

13) The Grosvenor Park

The understated river-side entrance to the Grosvenor Park at the end of the footbridge

Walking off the bridge on the Chester side you will see a flight of steps straight ahead of you.  Just before the steps, on your right, is the understated gateway into the Grosvenor Park. 

I have included the park partly because it surprises me how many residents and visitors seem to bypass it, and it is lovely on a sunny day.  The Grosvenor Park was the brainchild of Richard, the second the Marquis of Westminster, following the example of similar projects elsewhere.  Like many wealthy Victorians, he undertook a number of philanthropic projects, and in 1867 the park opened for the benefit of local Chester inhabitants.  Unlike many town and city parks this one was not paid for partly by subscription; it was, in its entirety, a gift to the city from the Marquis, who chose the designer of the successful Birkenhead Park, landscape architect Edward Kemp (1817-1891), to lay out his new public space.

Today it is a beautifully maintained space with a miniature railway operating in the summer, a rose garden, a couple of vantage points from which to inspect the views over the river and some lovely wide open spaces, together with the shade of trees for those who prefer a bit of cover, in which to relax.  Although this is not a formal park, in terms of the big municipal floral plantings that characterize some English parks, there are colourful beds dotted around and at the top left corner of the park there is a charming wheel-shaped rose garden that is lovely in the summer months, with a variety of colours, and some lovely scented species, with benches around its edges.  As in the cemetery, which had opened 17 years previously, the trees were seen as a major feature of park and there are some splendid specimens.  The pond may once have been ornamental, but is now surrounded by tall reeds, providing a splendid refuge for wildlife.  I have seen the rails for the miniature railway but not the train –  I really must find out when it runs!  There is plenty of seating throughout the park, and as well as permanent sculptural pieces, there are often temporary modern art installations dotted throughout, which may or may not be your cup of tea, but are always genuinely interesting, and usually reference the natural world.  Look out for information panels dotted throughout the park.  The lodge, discussed next, serves as a coffee shop during the summer.  It’s not on the map because it is closed in the winter.


Ferris wheel in the Grosvenor Park

 

14) Four Medieval monuments

The arch from St Michael’s Church

As you walk into the park along a metalled path, you will soon come to a set of three clearly medieval (as opposed to mock-gothic) monuments set back from the main path, with a little side path of its own.  These were all moved here from elsewhere in Chester, and serves as a miniature outdoor museum.  The first one that you encounter is a gothic arch from St Michael’s Church, which is still standing but was largely rebuilt in the 1840s by James Harrison, and it is possible that the gateway was removed at that time.

Next, following the side path is the little Jacob’s Well, originally installed on The Groves as a drinking fountain and at its base a water dish for dogs.  The keystone inscription is from the New Testament and reads “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again.”  Finally, and most impressive of the three, is the arch and flanking niches that once linked the nave of St Mary’s monastic church to its chancel, a sad reminder of the absolute total loss of St Mary’s medieval nunnery.  The photograph of it is below under no.27, where the nunnery is discussed.
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Keep walking across the intersection, bearing right, and you will immediately come across the Ship Gate, which once sat to the west of the Bridgegate at the end of Lower Bridge Street providing pedestrian access  from the riverside to the city.  This was moved three times, first in 1831 to a private garden in the Abbey Square, next in 1897  to the Groves and finally in 1923 to its present location in Grosvenor Park.

The Ship Gate, looking back towards the St Mary’s chancel arch

Between the St Mary’s arch and the Ship Gate there is a path going uphill to the main park, with handrails, shown in the photograph above.  Walk up the slope to the main drive towards the statue at the end.

15) Viewing platform over the Dee

If you follow the main drive to the statue of Richard, the second the Marquis of Westminster, you will see, slightly to your right, a large viewing platform with seating around its circuit.  The view over Chester meadows towards Boughton was probably a bit better in the late 1800s, but is still good today.

16) Grosvenor Park Lodge

When the park was opened in 1867, it had a lodge at the main gate and this remains today, used as a café in the summer months.  It was designed by successful local architect John Douglas who is best known for the Eastgate Clock, but who built a great many buildings in different styles in Chester.  It was built in the popular half-timbered revival style over red sandstone.  The brightly coloured statuettes on black timbers on the lodge show King William I, who appointed Hugh d’Avranches, better known as Hugh Lupus as the first Earl of Chester from 1071 until his death in 1101.  Hugh is shown, together with the successive Earls of Chester, ending with John de Scot (from 1232 to 1237), who died without heirs, after which the earldom reverted to the Crown.  Various family shields show locally relevant themes including the golden sheaf of the Grosvenor family, the portcullis of Westminster and the Chester city coat of arms.

17) The Grosvenor Park Archaeological Excavation

Grosvenor Park Excavations in 2024

Near to the rose garden, to its east, and for several weeks every year since 2007, an archaeological excavation takes place using students of the University of Chester to investigate the complex historical narrative of this area.  The project was initiated to provide information about the Church of St John the Baptist, and the later use of the area, including a house documented to have been built in the late 1500s by Sir Hugh Cholmondeley which was later destroyed in the English Civil War.  At the same time, given the proximity of the Roman amphitheatre on the other side of St John’s, it was hoped that some information pertaining to  extra-mural activities under the Romans might emerge, and how the position and ruins of the amphitheatre, as well as the influence of the church, impacted on the later use and development of the surrounding area.  In 2025 the excavation took place between during May.  Visitors can see the excavation taking place, and the site directors and supervisors are very happy to answer any questions from the public.  An excavation Open Day is always organized towards the end of the excavation too.

18) The ruins of the east end of St John’s Church

Ruins at the east end of St John the Baptist’s

Leaving the park at the west, where the exit puts you on the path that leads back down to the footbridge, you find yourself at the east end of St John the Baptist’s Church.

St John the Baptist’s Church, marked with a green star next to the number 18, has a long and fascinating history, which is far too complicated to deal with here.  The current church was established in the 11th century outside the city walls and was the original Chester Cathedral and a collegiate church.  Its architecture is splendidly dominated by the Romanesque, featuring vast columns and gloriously rounded arches, has a wonderful if faint painted fresco, and contains a fine collection of early medieval stone funerary memorials.  Its monumental sense of indestructibility is somewhat misleading, however, as its tower came down in its entirety on Good Friday in 1881.

Without going into the church, however, you can wander around the ruins at the east end of the church.  There are plenty of information boards to explain what is going on, but the short version is that in the mid-1500s the church was too large for the congregation and the decision was made to truncate it by sealing off the eastern end which, deprived of its roof, rapidly deteriorated into ruins.  These ruins contain a splendid Norman arch, which once gave access to the chancel, as well as the usual gothic lancet (pointed) arches, shown in George Cuitt’s engraving below.  One of the other of the many features is the puzzling inclusion of an oak coffin at the top of one of the gothic arches, facing outward, shown above left.

The ruins of St John’s in the first half of the 19th century, showing a splendid Norman Romanesque arch in the foreground, which still stands, and a gothic lancet arch in the background.  By George Cuitt

19) The Anchorite Cell / Hermitage

The Anchorite cell in the grounds of St John the Baptist’s Church

Just downhill from St John’s, at the base of the steps [or thread your way back through the east end of the park by taking left turns, back to the entrance at the bridge], look over the fence on your right to see the lovely so-called anchorite cell, Grade II listed.

The lovely little building sits on an outcrop of red sandstone bedrock.  An anchorite is a religious recluse, someone who decides to retreat from all form of society, even monastic, to pursue a life of prayer and devotion. The building seems to correspond to a number of  references to an anchorite chapel and cell dedicated to St James in the cemetery of St John the Baptist’s church, opposite the south door.

The earliest story, unsubstantiated (and generally discredited), comes from the priest-historian Gerald of Wales (d.1223), who records that King Harold II was not killed at the Battle of Hastings, but was wounded and fled to Chester, where he lived at the cell (or hermitage) for the rest of his life.  British History Online says that this was the only such building that seems to have had a degree of permanence: “In the mid 14th century it held monks of Vale Royal (1342) and Norton (1356) and a Dominican friar (1363), and in 1565 a lease of property formerly belonging to St. John’s College included the ‘anker’s chapel’.”  The Freemen and Guilds of The City of Chester website mentions that at some point the building was used by the cordwainer guild (shoemakers) as a weekly meeting place “until they sold it in due course to a Mr Orange, and spent the proceeds on a party,” but provides no date.  It was expanded in the late 19th century, when the porch of the recently demolished St Martin’s Church, which was being demolished, was moved to form a new north entrance.  It was renovated in the early 1970s, but I can find no mention of how it is being used today.

20) and 21) The Groves

The Groves are a Victorian invention. The earliest section is The Groves East, which has some very attractive residential buildings facing the river, including an Italianate terrace, a Georgian-style terrace built in the early Victorian period and the revival half-timber rowing club boathouse, as well as cafés and pubs.  There are some good views over the riverside buildings on the edge of Queen’s Park, opposite.  Between 1880 and 1881 the western section that is most obviously a promenade area was laid out by Alderman Charles Brown.

As well as the lovely Grade II listed bandstand and delightful little octagonal ice cream huts, the city walls are particularly impressive here, towering above the river with some big chunks of bedrock at their base.  From here you can also enter the Roman Gardens (shown on the map with a green star), by following the line of the wall into a corridor between the wall and a restaurant.  Just about where the no.21 is marked on the above map is a flight of steps leading up to the walls.  These are known as the Recorder’s Steps, built in around 1720, linking the walls and the fashionable promenade to provide ease of access.  If you want to continue your walk by doing a circuit of the walls, this is a very good place to start, particularly as there is a map of the walls at the bottom of the steps.  The walls either side of the stairs are an interesting mix of different periods of construction, with one or two puzzling features.

The most attractive of all the public toilet buildings in Chester! The Groves West, opposite the bandstand.

As you walk towards the Old Dee Bridge, look over the river to see the concrete apartments under which you you walked earlier.  These, in the so-called Brutalist style, are the “Salmon Leap” buildings and  were built starting in the late 1960s until the mid 1970s, which look rather like a bar code.  In the interests of naming and shaming, they were designed by Liverpool architects Gilling Dod and Partners from Liverpool.  I recall that when I was visiting my parents once, many years ago, they were painted pink (salmon pink??), which was indescribably bad.

22) The Bridgegate

Nathaniel Buck’s Old Dee Bridge, showing the Bridgegate with the massive 1600 water tower as it was in 1728. Source: MutualArt

Today’s Georgian gateway, carrying the walls over Lower Bridge Street, is the latest iteration of the first gate built here by the Romans to defend access to the Via Praetoria.  By the Middle Ages all the bridge’s predecessors had been replaced by a medieval gateway that had a central pointed arch, which carried the walkway, and was flanked by two round towers.  This was quite an understated affair, but became considerably more noticeable when a tall, slender water tower was added to the west tower in 1600 to pump water from the river into the city (shown on the above image).  It was destroyed during the Civil War, but is recorded in earlier engravings.  The medieval Ship Gate, one of the architectural features preserved in Grosvenor Park, was a pedestrian archway giving access to the city Just to the west of the Bridgegate (towards the car park), which has already been mentioned in connection with the Grosvenor Park, where it was moved in the 1830s.

The Bridgegate, with the Bear and Billet on the other side of the gate

On the city side of the Bridgegate, on your left as you look uphill, is the Bear and Billet public house, which looks like one of the original half-timbered buildings but is in fact part of the revival of timber-framed buildings after the Civil War, in which multiple buildings were destroyed, and was built in 1664 for the Earl of Shrewsbury. See the picture near the end of the post in Sources.

As Chester’s population expanded during the 1700s, the increasing size of vehicles and the need for two-way traffic to pass into and out of the area defined by the walls resulted in the destruction and replacement of the medieval bridge.  The yellow sandstone Georgian arch that survives today was built in 1782 to a design by Joseph Turner (c.1729–1807), a successful local architect.  It supports a walkway that connects the two parts of the city walls that flank Lower Bridge Street.  Although not particularly imaginative, it is elegant in a typically Georgian way.

23) The Dee Mills and the hydroelectric station 

The Old Dee Mills in the 19th Century, with the Bridge Gate to its right and the Old Dee Bridge at its side. Source: Chesterwiki

The area around the Old Dee Bridge was busy from the Roman period onwards.  In the Middle Ages this part of the river was the site of several water mills, and mills continued to be built here until the last one burned down in 1895 and was knocked down in 1910.  In 1913 the site was used to establish a hydroelectric station, part of which survives in the form of the gothic-style building that sits below the bridge in the corner with the north bank, but this went out of use in 1951 and is currently vacant.  You can still see the hydroelectric station in situ on the walk, and the Ship Gate is still visible in the Grosvenor park (photograph further up the page at no.14), but the mill is only preserved in pictures.

The former hydroelectric station

24)  Prison wall

The remains of the west side of the river wall of the former prison, with its distinctive arches, next to the Wheeler Building.

Although it is captured in paintings and engravings, there’s almost nothing left of the former prison, although it was a very substantial building in its day.  Both the prison and the river wall with its inset arches can be seen on this painting below by prolific local artist Louise Rayner (1832-1934).  All that remains is the former river wall with its inset arches, and even this is a matter of noticing that it is there, rather than actually seeing it, even from the opposite side of the river, as it is hidden by extensive tree growth.  It is marked by the fact that it projects slightly into the river.  There are two places where the inset arches are visible, first by the railings opposite the Wheeler Building, where you can lean over and look back, and rather more accessibly there is small a section to the side of the Wheeler Building, which carries the path back up on to the walls, shown here.  Up until 1785 the prison was based in the Chester Castle dungeons, but by the mid-18th century it was very clear that this was no longer fit for purpose, and when it was decided to build a new prison, architects were invited to submit designs to a competition.  Thomas Harrison, who is mentioned below in connection with the revitalization of the castle, won the contract, and new riverside prison opened in 1793.  Less than a century later, in 1865, it was unable to cope with demand, and it was rebuilt, opening again in 1869.  It was demolished in 1902.

The Chester prison by Louise Rayner, showing the river wall along which we still walk today

 

25) The Wheeler Building, housing Royal Infirmary Stained Glass and the Riverside Museum

Objects from the collection of the Riverside Museum in the Wheeler Building

The University of Chester’s Wheeler Building, a vast block of a thing on your right as you head towards the Little Roodee car park, was built in 1857 as the former Cheshire County Council headquarters.  Although there is not much to say about it as a piece of architectural heritage, it does contain two really valuable items of local heritage interest.  On the first floor of Wheeler Building you can find the stained glass that was once installed in the Victorian Royal Infirmary (opened in 1761, closed in 1994 was converted for residential use in 1998), and about which you can read more on the Chester Archaeological Society blog here.  The Riverside Museum, which usually opens only once a month, is a permanent collection of curiosities from the world of medicine, nursing, midwifery and social work, in addition to an original letter written by Florence Nightingale from Balaclava.

Just past the Wheeler Building, you can walk up the path that follows a slope up the old prison walls onto the city walls for the last stretch of the walk. If you take the opportunity, you get some views over the river, and the best angle to see this side of the castle. [There are no steps upto and off this stretch of the walls, but if you have a wheelchair or buggy, there is a dogleg turn that may be difficult to negotiate]

26) The Castle

The Agricola tower

Chester Castle today is a bizarre and not terribly attractive mixture of Neoclassical and medieval when seen from the front.  The original castle following the Conquest of 1066 was a timber-built motte-and-bailey castle, but this was replaced by the medieval stone castle in the late 12th century.  The Neoclassical bolt-on was architect Thomas Harrison’s solution to the dilapidated state of the building in the Georgian period.

From the walkway along the walls you can see the square Agricola Tower, which dates from around 1190-1200, and this and the Flag Tower are the only survivors of this early stone-built castle.  The tower is opened at least once a year for visitors to see around the vaulted chapel and 13th century wall paintings that are thought to have been ordered by Edward I for his use of the castle as a base during his negotiations with the Welsh princes.  That’s high on my to-do list.

Leaving the walls, you can walk up to the entrance to the castle if you want to see the view from the entrance.  Otherwise, cross the road at the pedestrian lights, taking note of the big black modern building squatting on your right as you cross the road and go a short distance to the covered viewing point, where there are interpretation boards, and have a look over the Roodee.

Nathaniel Buck’s 1728 engraving of the castle. Source: chesterwalls.info

 

27) The Roodee and the site of St Mary’s Nunnery

The race course on the Roodee

Nathaniel Buck’s Prospect of the City of Chester 1728 showing The Roodee. Source: chesterwalls.info

The Roodee is now home to the Chester racecourse, with the earliest race here held in 1539, but it also formed the edge of a river port second in size to Bristol on the western coast of Britain, supporting a successful trade along the coast and across to Ireland, as well as a thriving shipbuilding industry.  The commercial value of the river began to decline at the end of the 18th century as the river began to silt up, and did not survive the 19th century.  However, the archaeology of the river at the Roodee dates back to at least the Roman period when there was a harbour at the river and excavations in 1885 revealed the remains of a jetty near the railway viaduct.  The above engraving by Nathaniel Buck shows the medieval tower, connected to the walls by a fortified walkway, which was once at the water’s edge, demonstrating how silting was impacting the port of Chester even at this stage.

Turn so that your back is to the Roodee.  Over the road was the site of St Mary’s Benedictine Nunnery. 

St Mary’s Convent was founded in 1140 and survived until the Dissolution in 1535,on the north side of today’s Nun’s Lane, which is the small road that runs along the top of the Roodee and the race course.  It was built just inside the city walls, a little to the west of the castle. This became quite a large monastic establishment with a relatively compact cloister around which were the usual domestic and administrative buildings along three sides, with the monastic church on the fourth side, and a larger separate courtyard with more buildings arranged around it. A double-cloister arrangement was not at all unusual in wealthy monastic establishments, but the nunnery was notable for its financial difficulties even though it owned and rented out several properties in Chester, and from the 13th century owned the manor of Handbridge.  The last surviving piece of architecture from the nunnery survives in Grosvenor Park, which preserves the red sandstone arch and flanking niches that once separated the church’s nave from its chancel.

Archway and flanking niches from the former St Mary’s Nunnery, looking through to the Ship Gate

The black glass and red sandstone building on the other side of Nun’s Lane, Abode (built in 2010), replaces the former police headquarters, which was an eyesore of a very different type, and between the police building being knocked down and Adobe being built, an archaeological excavation took place.  As well as what are thought to have been significant Roman discoveries, the remains of the nunnery were excavated, producing both architectural and funerary remains, as well as discarded objects.  Quite who was responsible for seeing that the excavation records were published I don’t know, but one of the great tragedies of Chester heritage was that the small company responsible for the excavations never did publish, and no-one seems to know where the excavation reports and any preserved materials might be located.

The remains of St Mary’s Nunnery in 1727. Source: British History Online

After the 1536 Dissolution, when the nuns dispersed, the land and buildings were granted to a member of the Brereton family, in whose hands it remained until the 17th century.  Its best known resident was Sir William Brereton, who was the Cheshire commander of the Parliamentary forces during the Civil War, when the buildings came under fire, were badly damaged and were never repaired.  As ruins on valuable land within the city walls they were soon replaced.  At the west end of the former site, architect Thomas Harrison, who has been mentioned several times above, built St Martin’s Lodge for his own use, now sympathetically converted into the gastro pub The Architect.

The walk is over!  Retrace your steps back over the Grosvenor Road into the car park, either via the steps on the corner, or down Castle Drive and into the main entrance, which avoids steps.
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Final comments

I particularly like this walk because of the sheer amount of diversity that it introduces to the experience of Chester, beyond what you can find on a walk around the walls or a stroll around the main streets and the rows.  This is a slightly different slant on Chester, one that takes place nearly entirely beyond the walls, where there is space for promenades, open green spaces, a massive race course, a Victorian cemetery, river walks and of course some marvellous bridges and views over the surrounding area.  Neither urban nor suburban, this walk focuses on the in-between borderland of the riverside.

The shortlink for this post is: https://wp.me/pcZwQK-7BG

Braun’s Map of Chester, 1571 showing the RooDee with a grazing cow at left,  Handrbidge at the bottom, and the Old Dee Bridge connecting Handbridge with the Bridgegate. Source: chesterwalls.info

 

Sources

Books and Papers

The Bear and Billet

Boughton, Peter 1997. Picturesque Chester.  Phillimore

Carrington, Peter 1994. Chester. English Heritage

Cheshire West and Chester Council 2012.  Explore the Walls. A circular walk around Chester’s historic City Walls.  Cheshire West and Chester Council

Clarke, Catherine A.M. 2011. Mapping the Medieval City. Space, Place and Identity in Chester c.1200-1600.  University of Wales

Herson, John 1996. Victorian History: A City of Change and Ambiguity. In (ed.) Roger Swift. Victorian Chester.  Liverpool University Press

King, Michael J. and David B. Thompson 2000.  Triassic vertebrate footprints from the Sherwood Sandstone Group, Hilbre, Wirral, northwest England. Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association,
Volume 111, Issue 2, 2000, p.111-132

Langtree, Stephen and Alan Comyns (eds.) 2001. 2000 Years of Building: Chester’s Architectural LegacyChester Civic Trust

Laughton, Jane 2008.  Life in a Late Medieval City. Chester 1275-1520. Oxbow

Martin, Richard 2018. Ships of the Chester River. Bridge Books

Mason, D.J.P. 2001, 2007. Roman Chester. City of the Eagles. Tempus

Mason, D.J.P. 2007. Chester AD 400-1066. From Roman Fortress to English Town. Tempus.

Ward, Simon 2009, 2013. Chester. A History. The History Press


Websites

Based in Churton
Overleigh Cemetery in Chester, Parts 1 and 2 by Andie Byrnes
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/category/overleigh-cemetery/

British History Online
Religious houses: Introduction
https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/ches/vol3/pp124-127

The Cheshire Sandstone Ridge
The geology of the mid Cheshire Sandstone Ridge: Our landscape story
https://www.sandstoneridge.org.uk/lib/F715451.pdf

Chester Characterisation Study
St John’s Character Area Assessment
https://www.cheshirewestandchester.gov.uk/asset-library/planning-policy/chester-characterisation-study/e-chestercharacterisationstudystjohns.pdf

Chester Heritage Festival YouTube Channel
Four Minute Wonder:  The Sandstone Outcrop by Paul Hyde, 2024
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxgoKh_4FXk
Four Minute Wonder: The Grosvenor Park Lodge by Paul Hyde, 2024
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Td67domdAWQ

Chesterwiki
River Dee Geology
https://chester.shoutwiki.com/wiki/River_Dee_Geology

Curiouser and Curioser: Tales from Cheshire Archives and Local Studies
A Grand Day Out in Chester: celebrating 100 years of the new Queens Park Suspension Bridge
https://cheshirero.blogspot.com/2023/04/a-grand-day-out-in-chester-celebrating.html

The Freemen and Guilds of the City of Chester
Cordwainers
https://chesterfreemenandguilds.org.uk/about/

Heritage Gateway
Post Dissolution Use of Former Benedictine Nunnery
https://www.heritagegateway.org.uk/Gateway/Results_Single.aspx?uid=MCH18993&resourceID=1004

Historic England
Roman quarry including Edgar’s Cave and the rock-cut figure of Minerva on Edgar’s Field, 150m south west of Dee Bridge
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1014718
The Hermitage, The Groves
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1375947

The Spoonster Sprouts
Brutalist Architecture in Chester: A Guide. By Tom Spooner, 15th July 2024
https://thespoonsterspouts.com/brutalism/chester-brutalist-architecture/

A Virtual Stroll Around the Walls of Chester
Old Maps and Aerial Photographs of Chester – Nathaniel Buck
https://chesterwalls.info/gallery/oldmaps/prospect.html

Wikipedia
Henry Raikes
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Raikes


Upcoming

The Historic Towns Trust map for Chester should be a great aid to anyone planning their own heritage walk.  Although I have one on order it hasn’t arrived yet. You can find details on the Trust’s website where you can also order a copy:
https://www.historictownstrust.uk/maps/an-historical-map-of-chester

 

View of the City of Chester by an unknown artist, mid 1700s. Source: Victoria and Albert Museum, accession number 29635:57

 

Nathaniel Buck’s South West Prospect of the City of Chester, 1728. Source: Mutual Art

View from the East Groves to Queen’s Park

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum 1854-1870 – Part 2.2

As I outlined in part 2.1, for part 2, just as in Part 1, I have again divided part 2 into two posts, 2.1 and 2.2, mainly because of the number of images used, which would take too long to load if I left it as a single piece.  This is the second part of part 2, part 2.2.  Part 2.1 is here.
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Insights from the annual Visitor and Superintendent Reports for 1854-1870 contd.

Patients and their backgrounds

In the annual reports, patients are largely reduced to numbers.  Without exception the reports never give personal names of patients, only rarely referring occasionally to specific individual cases, such as suicides, escapes or, as in 1857, the birth of a child, and there are only a few clues in the annual report about who these people were.  One of the vital tables in this respect, which always appeared in the annual report, showed the occupations of each of the admissions for each year.  Given that this was mainly an asylum established for paupers, it is not surprising to find that most of the intake was from the lower-paid levels of Cheshire society, but the term “pauper” when applied to asylum patients did not always refer to very poor people. The term “pauper” covers a range of people.  Some were genuinely very impoverished, such as those transferred from workhouses, but others might be fully employed but without sufficient funds for their families to afford asylum costs.  This is probably one reason why there is a wide range of trades and professions represented, partly representing Chester’s diverse economic basis.   The variety of occupations might be more mixed when private patients from middle class families were admitted, or when patients were transferred from other asylums such as Staffordshire and Denbigh.   Two examples are shown below, one from 1855 and another from 1870.

Occupations of patients admitted to the asylum in 1855

The previous occupations of patients admitted in 1870

In every report the numbers of new admissions were listed both the symptoms with which patients were admitted in the tables accompanying the reports, together with the supposed causes in Table IX (until 1868).  The supposed causes are of interest, because they are specific to individual cases, and change annually, although recurring causes inevitably appear from one year to the next.  The following example is from the 1862 report about 1861:

Tables showing the types of mental illness and their supposed causes for 1861

The 1862 report for 1861 reported that the asylum was now capable of housing 500 patients, with the new extra capacity unused, resulting in the decision to charge private patients who were unable to afford more expensive solutions.  It was deemed that the admission of this new class of patients required a set of additional rules that would be applicable to these new more privileged patients.

A page from the 1867 Cheshire Asylum report

Occasionally something related to an individual patient is deemed important enough to report and these give some clues about the circumstances from which these patients came.  For example, in the March of 1862 a “deaf and dumb idiot” was admitted from a workhouse, and within three days had developed symptoms of smallpox.  A second patient soon showed the same symptoms and both had to be isolated from the rest of the asylum patients.  Again in 1862 a female patient gave birth, and this child was “subsequently removed to the Workhouse.”  In 1866 a woman died within six hours of having been admitted and the sad jury verdict determined that the death was due to natural causes “accelerated by ill-treatment, want of proper food and the miserable hovel she lived in.”  In 1867 a female was admitted with advanced Phthisis Pulmonalis,(pulmonary tuberculosis, also referrred to at the time as “consumption”) in a state of extreme exhaustion.  She gave birth a month later to premature baby, and both died. In the same year, a woman was taken to see her dying husband in her home near Middlewich, giving “no small degree a melancholy satisfaction to both, and probably was the means of saving the patient, a melancholic one, considerable subsequent distress of mind.”  One of the female inmates gave birth to a child, which, when a month old, was removed by the Relieving Officer, and delivered to the husband.  In another case of a childbirth within the asylum, both mother and child died.  There are very few other examples listed.

There are plenty of references in the Cheshire Asylum reports to areas outside Cheshire that had asylums of their own, but would send some of their patients asylums outside their immediate areas, including Chester, when they became full to capacity, thereby incurring associated charges.  An example from 1862 is the intake of patients from parishes in north Wales due to the Denbigh asylum being full.  The charges imposed for taking in these patients was used to improve conditions at the Chester asylum, enabling the purchase of “a large portion of the furniture required for the new buildings, but for which the Committee would have been under the necessity of applying for a further sum to supplement the grant of £500 already made by the Court of Quarter Sessions for this purpose.”

An excerpt from the 1855 list of items that were made in-house

It is discussed in part 2.1 (Ideology) how patients were put to work within the asylum partly to control costs, but more particularly to provide them with a sense of self and personal achievement. Women sewed and knitted, and sometimes helped out on the wards.  By 1867 all the clothes, shoes and bedding were being made within the establishment. The report for 1868 shed more light on this.  Of a total population (by the end of the year) of 255 men and 257 women, 120 men and 140 women were employed in productive activities in the asylum.  80-90 men worked in the garden and farm, 8 worked as tailors, 10 as shoemakers, 5 at other trades, and 55 in the wards and offices in unspecified roles.  100-110 women were engaged in sewing and knitting, 22 were in the laundry and washhouse, 9 were in the kitchen and offices and 30-40 assisted on the wards.

In 1870 it was recorded that “an excellent practice has lately been adopted” whereby every patient due to be discharged would be brought before the Committee so that they could be questioned about their treatment and asked if there were any complaints, following which they would have to sign a form confirming their statements.

The overall impression is one in which patients generally came from the lower levels of Chester’s social scale, with a few middle class patients, generally private, and that at the asylum they were integrated into a new community where they were cared for, and to which they could contribute.
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Form of Mental Disorder

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum Report of 1855 showing the main reasons for admission

One of the tables in each report showed the main “disorder” with which patients were admitted, with any complications.  They make for a fairly startling insight into just how varied and potentially difficult patient symptoms could be.  It is difficult to find precise modern analogies for the forms of disorder shown, not only because they were not always precisely defined in the 19th century, but because definitions could differ from asylum to asylum.

Forms of mental disorder with which new admissions were afflicted 1854 – 1867

The four main classes of disorder were Mania, Melancholia, Dementia and Amentia, the latter subdivided into Imbeciles and Idiots.  I have listed Amentia as a single class in the above graph, due to the lack of any clarification on how idiocy and imbecility were distinguished by the asylum.  Other causes could be added to the table as well.  In 1855, for example, intemperance (alcoholism) was specifically noted as a direct and dominant cause of insanity in new admissions:

Intemperance, as usual, appears to have been one of the most fertile causes of the disease, and this was more especially the case amongst the class of skilled artizans who received high wages. As shewn in table 10, in fourteen instances the attack of insanity was directly attributable to it; and undoubtedly in a large number of the other cases, habits of intemperance acted as a predisposing cause. It unfortunately happens that the offspring of such parents are extremely liable to insanity.

However those shown above in Table IX from the 1855 report, were the main categories up until 1867 when the format of the tables changed, and the “forms of disorder” table was changed.  Hill and Laugharne, looking at the Bodmin asylum data suggest that these conditions could be broadly understood as follows, although this is tentative, and reflects the difficulty that was found in categorizing mental illness in the 19th century.  Mania is thought to have represented manic episodes, for which they suggest that a test would be to look at the age at which the symptoms began to manifest themselves, expecting to find it appearing in patients aged between 10-30 years old.  Melancholia was more closely associated with what were later referred to as depression.  They find dementia more difficult to pin down but suggest that it may equate to schizophrenia, but if correct, this too would have manifested itself in younger patients.  Taber’s Medical Dictionary Online describes Amentia as “1. Congenital mental deficiency; mental retardation. 2. Mental disorder characterized by confusion, disorientation, and occasionally stupor,” but it was broadly associated with those who suffered from learning difficulties, described in the Chester asylum reports as “idiots” and “imbeciles.”

As well as the main forms of disorder, complications could have a considerable impact on any chance of recovery.  Although suicidal tendencies accounted for a considerable proportion of each year’s intake, as shown in the chart above, the greatest complication for any possibility of recovery was General Paralysis, which was one of the most common cause of death in the asylum.

Suicide, which is discussed further below, could be guarded against within the asylum, meaning that even when high numbers of patients were admitted with suicidal propensities, there was a very low rate of suicide within the asylum itself.

General Paralysis of the Insane (GPI), to give it its full title, also known as General Paresis, impacted men far more often than women and was the most frequent contributor to the number of deaths recorded in the asylum each year, with much greater numbers usually found among men than women.  As Kelley Swain illustrates, it was not understood in the 19th century, although not through want of speculation:

“Treponema pallidum” (in Swain 2018)

General paresis (or paralysis) of the insane (GPI) was crippling and terminal. It ended in loss of control over mind and body, often accompanied by grandiose delusions of wealth and power and, finally, paralytic death. There was no known cause. Could GPI be caused by overwork? Emotional labour? Mental strain? Sexual promiscuity? Drink? These were possible causes listed by William Julius Mickle in 1880. . . A disease of dissolution and disrepute, GPI was also considered a result of that most Edwardian horror: degeneration

In fact, GPI was the result of undiagnosed syphilis, a bacterial infection usually transmitted sexually, hence its association with disreputable activities.  No cure was found until the early 1900s, when the bacterium Treponema pallidum was discovered in Germany, leading to the manufacture in 1908 of a drug called arsphenamine later renamed Salvarsan.  GPI was a genuine problem for lunatic asylums like Chester’s.  Because it was incurable, and it required constant nursing attention, patients who were admitted with GPI took up vacancies at the expense of those who might be cured.  It was a massive dilemma. 

The seizures associated with epilepsy were originally thought to be outbreaks of madness, and were treated accordingly but by the mid 19th-century there was a much better understanding, particularly as a result of the work by neurologist John Hughlings-Jackson, of the causes.  In 1857 Sir Charles Locock successfully applied the first effective anti-seizure drug, potassium bromide, to epileptic patients.  For much of the later 19th century epileptics began to be treated as a separate class of patient, either in dedicated wards and buildings or in epileptic colonies.

A recurring theme in the reports, which has been mentioned before, was the frustration that patients were not admitted until their conditions were very advanced, considerably reducing the likelihood of recovery and filling the asylum with those who could not be nursed back to health and cured at the expense of those in need.

It too often happens that to save expense, or else from misplaced charitable motives, the patient is detained at home by his friends, with a hope that improvement may take place; and when it is too late for medical treatment to be of any service, he is removed to the Asylum, where he is likely to remain for life, a burden to bis friends, or to the township to which he belongs; whereas, had be been sent as soon as the malady had manifested itself, there would have been every probability of his speedy recovery, and of his being able once more to support himself and family by his own labour.

John Hughlings-Jackson (1835-1911). Source: Wikipedia

In 1857 the report for 1856 reinforced the point, drawing attention to the fact that of the forty seven who had been discharged as recovered, thirty nine of those patients had been admitted within three months of having been declared insane.

The confusion of mental illness with neurological disorders in the 19th century was understandable, and it was only through the work of medical pioneers like John Hughlings-Jackson that the two began to be seen as separate fields of medical research, with psychiatry and neurology both developing into essential branches of medicine.

There is almost nothing in any of the Chester asylum reports about what sort of treatments were applied, so it is not possible to track how treatment might have evolved.  Nor is there any information about how discharged patients were deemed to be “cured” or “relieved.”  Nor is it explained why, if they were not in any way improved, they were discharged anyway.
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General health and disease

The physical condition of patients admitted to the asylum in 1870

A recurring theme in the reports draws attention to the weak condition and general ill health of new admissions that undermined the efforts of the staff to support new patients.  Many of those who died soon after admission were already in a poor state of health, in spite of being provided with good food and other stimuli.  Those referred from workhouses were often in a very bad way.  This was blamed in some reports on the Relieving Officer who was responsible, at parish level, for assessing paupers and their needs, and for delivering any suitable candidates to the asylums.

There was always the risk of a patient being admitted with a dangerous disease.  In 1864 a patient suffering from smallpox was admitted, which lead to a new bye-law authorizing the Medical Superintendent to reject infectious patients.  In 1865 this was acted upon when a potential patient was indeed refused admission.  On the other hand, there is no mention in the 1867 report for 1866 about any patients contracting cholera, which was an epidemic in that year.


Patients transferred from the Workhouse

The Chester Workhouse, on the edge of the Roodee, hemmed in on all sides. Sometime after 1840. Source: ChesterWiki

The relationship between the Chester workhouse and the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum is an important one and needs far more exploration than is possible here.  As Alistair Ritch has highlighted in his study of transfers between Birmingham are workhouses and asylums, there was a great deal of movement in both directions in England.  Following changes introduced by the 1834 Poor Law Act workhouses were required to move certain patients to local asylums:  “nothing in this Act contained shall authorise the detention in any workhouse of any dangerous lunatic, insane person, or idiot for any longer period than fourteen days” (section 45).  They were often in very poor condition by the time the decision was made to transfer them, both before and after 1834, making it very difficult to treat patients both for ill health and for mental illness.  In the other direction, those long-term residents of the asylum who were deemed to be both harmless and incurable might be moved to workhouses to make room for more acute cases.

In the 1857 report for 1856 the problem of workhouse admissions was highlighted, which provides a useful insight into the relationship between workhouse and asylum, and the problems in capacity that this represented for the asylums:

It appears that there are at this time more epileptic, idiotic, and chronic pauper patients in the different Workhouses of the County and elsewhere, than the patients actually
present in the Asylum; and as the Commissioners in Lunacy recommend that all these shall be brought into the public Asylum of a County, and also recommend that at least one acre of land for ten patients should be provided for their occupation, the quantity of land with that now proposed to be purchased would be in about that proportion, viz. 70 acres for 600 patients.

Dr Brushfield commented on the referrals from the workhouse in 1859, and how these were less likely to recover due to the lateness of the referrals, than those admitted early from other sources.  This is a recurring theme, but was raised particularly with reference to workhouse transfers.

It cannot be too often reiterated, that the chances of the patient’s recovery depends in the great majority of cases upon the circumstance whether the removal to the Asylum is early or late after the primary outbreak of the attack. The patients admitted to the Asylum during the past year, were 11s a class, of a worse description than usual; for instance, at the monthly meeting in October, the following extract was read from my Diary:-

“I beg to call the attention of the committee to the bad and incurable type of cases that are now being brought to the Asylum. Of the eleven patients admitted since the last meeting, there is only one where there is much probability of a cure being established, there are two cases of doubtful issue, and the remaining eight are positively incurable.  Seven of the eleven were admitted from workhouses, and four of this number had been the subjects of restraint.”

When a patient is sent to the Workhouse, which practice in some townships is the rule, considerable delay in the removal to the Asylum is too frequently experienced, and as a
sequence, the recoveries amongst those brought from workhouses are proportionately few, and the deaths many. The following table of the cases admitted into this Asylum during the past year, will bear out the correctness of these remarks.

By 1860 concerns about overcrowding at the asylum, there being no more male capacity and only  a few places available in the female wards, lead to a brief exploration of the various options, which included expanding the asylum yet again, shifting patients to other English asylums, and moving others to the workhouse.  Of the latter option it was suggested that workhouses represented the least desirable option, “it being a fact well known to all experienced in the treatment of recent acute cases too often results in retarding the discovery, or in causing the degeneration from a curable into a chronic incurable state.”  In the 1862 report for 1861 Dr Brushfield expanded upon this point:

In several instances where Patients, after having been quiet and harmless for many months, or even years, in the Asylum, have been removed to the Workhouse, they have, in the course of a short time, been sent back to the Asylum as “dangerous” either to themselves or to others, or to both.

In 1866 there were too few spaces for the number of patients referred to the asylum, and the only solutions were to transfer the new patients to other asylums, if any of those were lucky enough to have capacity, or to send them to workhouses.  As none of the asylums approached had any spare capacity, it is assumed that several of the Chester asylum patients were sent to the workhouse in spite of Dr Brushfield’s considerable misgivings.

The subject of the relationship between the Chester asylum and the workhouse would reward a research project in its own right.
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The emphasis on recovery

Duration of insanity prior to admission asylum in 1855

The objective of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was not merely confinement but cure, although apart from a community and activity based approach to mental illness, it is by no means clear how recovery was to be achieved.  The reports are concerned to record and discuss recoveries, as well as the reasons why some patients could not be cured.  Some patients were too unwell to treat effectively when they were admitted to the asylum:  “It is lamentable to find that in such a large proportion of the cases admitted, medical skill is of no avail.”  There is a clear differentiation between those who have the potential for recovery and those who do not.  In the 1855 report this was because of complications due to epilepsy and general paralysis, a recurring theme in these reports, and also because, in some cases, mental illness was too far advanced into the “chronic stage” for any improvement.  The usual explanation for this is that admission came too late in their illness, as this example from the report, also for 1855, makes explicit:

Table XIII (13) from the 1855 report

It too often happens that to save expense, or else from misplaced charitable motives, the patient is detained at home by his friends, with a hope that improvement may take place; and when it is too late for medical treatment to be of any service, he is removed to the Asylum, where he is likely to remain for life, a burden to his friends, or to the township to which he belongs; whereas, had he be been sent as soon as the malady has manifested itself, there would have been every probability of his speedy recovery, and of his being able once more to support himself and family by his own labour. In table 13 it will be seen that out of the 52 cases discharged cured, 32 left the Asylum within six months from the time of their admission.

The report cites a case of one individual who was only kept alive by a stomach pump that administered food, and who died after five months.

This was reiterated in 1861 when Dr Brushfield wrote:

The proportion is wholly governed by the number of curable cases admitted, as of this
class 70 or even 80 per cent. are discharged recovered, hence the importance and necessity of sending the patients to an institution of this kind before the malady has assumed a chronic incurable form. In too many instances the Asylum, instead of serving the purpose of a hospital for curable cases, has simply become a receptacle for incurables.

The ordinary diet table for females from the 1870 report

In 1867 the 21st Report of the Commissioners in Lunacy to the Lord Chancellor was published, for the year 1866.  It listed all the asylums with which it was concerned, showing the data for the total number of inmates in the asylum at year end, and the proportion of those deemed to be probably curable and those deemed to be incurable.  Out of 481 patients (238 male, 243 female) only 13 were “probably curable” (5 males and 8 females) whilst 468 were “probably incurable. ” In the following year, 1868 the percentage of recoveries, 46.5%, was higher than in any previous years but no specific reasons are provided to account for the difference between these two sets of figures.

In spite of this gloomy prognosis, patients were fed well, if unimaginatively, three times a day, and for paupers, many of whom had probably had very little in the way of consistent and healthy diets, the provision of regular meals full of carbohydrates and protein was probably better than many of them had experienced, and was essential for any  hope of recovery.  The fact that the farm, on which many of the men worked, supplied a lot of the daily food supplies must have been a source of some satisfaction to male patients.
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Discharges, deaths and escapes
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Discharges partly reflected the success rate of the asylum, the overall aim of which was to return patients to society rather than retain them, so these were always displayed prominently in the tables and discussed in the text. A distinction was made between those who were considered to have completely recovered, those whose symptoms were relieved and those who had not improved.    Superintendent Brushfield was well aware of how the statistical tables could disguise some of the underlying information about recoveries and in his 1860 report for 1859 attempted to clarify the situation as regards curable versus incurable patients:

Of course the proportion of recoveries must depend upon the proportion of curable cases admitted, which varies much from year to year: for instance, during 1858 the admissions consisted of 43 curable and 47 incurable cases, whilst in 1859 the numbers were much more disproportionate, there having been 49 of the former and 70 of the latter. Of the 49 of the curable class 26 were discharged as recovered during the course of the year, and nearly two thirds of the remaining 23 are progressing favourably towards mental restoration.

Causes of death shown in the 1857 report, including 12 cases of General Paralyis, 10 cases of Phthisis (which sometimes followed General Paralysis) and two suicides

Deaths were inevitable, and were the result of a variety of causes.  In 1854 nineteen men and twenty women had been discharged, and there were a total of thirty deaths, a third of which were put down to “General Paralysis,” which was incurable and was the main cause of death over the entire period that these reports cover.  In 1870 this figure still remained high (15 men and 7 women)  In the 1860 report for 1859, Superintendent Brushfield highlighted the much higher than average number of deaths and some of its causes:

There was a considerable increase in the proportion of deaths and several circumstances contributed to swell the number. The mild winter of 1858, assisted in prolonging the lives of manv of our feeble cases for a few months, thereby lessening the mortality of one year to increase that of the next; whilst the severe weather that occurred during the middle of December last, operated very banefully on those suffering from great prostration of the mental powers, or organic bodily disease. The large number of aged persons admitted tended to produce a similar result. One-third of the number was due to general paralysis.

Tables from 1862 showing ages of patients who have died and the duration of their treatment before death

By 1870 a wider range of causes of death were being reported under different categories

In 1855 and again in 1857 one third of admissions had been recorded as suicidal, but although suicide attempts were occasionally recorded, thirteen years had elapsed before two were successful in the same year, noted in the report for 1857. This is in spite of the fact that some patients had been admitted not only having suicidal tendencies but having made serious suicide attempts prior to admission.  An example from 1857 describes how: “in several the attempts made were of the worst desperate description; and in two instances the patients at the time of their admission had extensive incised wounds of the throat which subsequently healed.”

New admissions with suicidal tendencies into the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum from 1854-1870

 

Overview of suicides in the report for 1861

In 1861 two patients had been admitted who had attempted suicide by cutting their throats, one of whom had been confined within the workhouse for two years previously.  The year’s only successful suicide lead to new measures to prevent a repeat:

 

For special notice is that of a male patient who committed suicide in the day time by strangulation. Every precaution appears to have been adopted with a view to guard against his known suicidal propensity. The open ironwork at the head of one of the old bedsteads, however, afforded him the opportunity he had sought. Nearly fifty of these bedsteads were in use when Mr Brushfield entered upon the duties of Superintendent in 1852. All since introduced have been of wood, and of a safe construction . . . It has, consequently, been deemed right to order an alteration, now in progress, in all the iron bedsteads, by the substitution of sheet iron for open work.

1870 was also a particularly bad year for those who were admitted having actually attempted to commit suicide, although there is no attempt to explain why this should be so, and no new suicide attempts were recorded after admission into the asylum:

Of the year’s admissions it was found that a large number had a strong suicidal propensity, and that several had made desperate efforts to commit self-destruction prior to their being brought here: the subjects of melancholia exhibited this proclivity in the greatest intensity.  Six cases were received into the asylum with their throats more or less severely cut, all of whom however recovered of their wounds,. except one – a male patient – who died five days after admission,  five days after admission, when a Coroner’s inquest was held upon the body, and the Jury gave a verdict to the effect that death was caused by self-inflicted injury.  None but those connected with Asylums for the Insane can form an adequate conception of the anxiety which this class of patients causes to the Medical Officers.

Escapes were only noted in the tables where the person had been missing for over a day.  There were several escapes in 1854, one in 1855, two in 1863, two in 1864 and one in 1870, which is a remarkably low number.  One escape attempt resulted in the escaped man drowning in a local canal; this was considered to be an accident rather than a suicide attempt.  This very good record was put down to the amount of freedom accorded to patients as well as their good treatment.
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Re-admission

Re-admissions are not mentioned in every report but are interesting when they are, indicating that someone who had been discharged back into society had not been successfully reintegrated and needed to return to the asylum for treatment.  It is unclear what sort of medical or emotional support someone discharge might or might nor receive from the asylum, although there was a charitable fund for helping them financially. A list in the 1863 report for 1862 displays re-admissions versus admissions since 1842. The percentages indicate that this was a fairly high annual number:

One of the problems with these figures is that the re-admissions do not correspond directly to the admissions, as some of them were admitted from previous years. Other reports make it clear that some re-admissions were within the year covered by the report, but that others clearly represented lapses after many years, so that the percentage of re-admissions does not relate directly to yearly admissions.  The figures in this table are still interesting for two reasons.  First, they indicate that re-admissions were generally quite low for the 17 years concerned, particularly as there does not seem to have been much in the way of after-care, but they did occur.  Second, these figures had not been recorded in most of the preceding reports, although they must have been recorded somewhere for them to be included in the 1862 report.
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Religion and education

The religious persuasion of admissions in 1867

Access to Christian services was considered important not only for the moral and religious wellbeing of patients, but also to reduce the potential tedium of asylum life.  The 1858 report for 1857 describes how a new residential chaplain was appointed:

The necessity of having Divine Service performed more frequently in the Chapel of the Asylum has recently brought under the attention of the Committee. After investigating the matter very fully, and finding that such services not only broke the monotony unavoidably connected with these Institutions, but exercised a more salutary influence on the patients, they appointed the present Chaplain, the Rev. R. Congreve, to be resident Chaplain, with a salary of £200 per annum, and an allowance of £50 per annum for a house, until the same could be provided for him. Divine Service will now be performed once every week day and twice on Sunday, instead of (as heretofore) once in the week and once on Sunday, and the Chaplain’s whole time devoted to the Asylum.

From 1858 the annual report occasionally included a section contributed by the Reverend Congreve, and it is one one of the aspects of asylum life on which the visiting commissioners of lunacy regularly commented in the annual report.  There were two services on Sundays, one on Fridays, and prayer readings every day in the Recreation Hall, as well as services on Christmas Day and on Good Friday.  A choir was made up of both attendants and patients, and Reverend Congreve reported that “all the Sunday evening when they return to the wards, you will find many of them joining together and singing some of the hymns.”  Holy Communion was also organized four times a year for a small minority of the asylum residents who required it (for example, in 1867 there were 14 who took advantage of this provision, out of a total number of 526 patients at year end).

In the report for 1863 it was noted that church attendances averaged from between 108 to 118.  In 1867 the church had reached its capacity of 300, made up of both patients and attendants, and many had to be excluded.  As a result, in 1868 the pews were reorganized to allow an additional 70 to attend.  During the closure for this alteration, “as many patients as could be trusted” were accompanied to Upton Church.  The average congregation after the reorganization was now 320, still including both residents and attendants.

The establishment of the fund for discharged patients in 1863

Reverend Congreve managed a charitable subscription fund called the Convalescent Fund, which was  contributed to by people from the local community to assist those who were discharged, which was designed to help them to re-establish themselves. There were occasionally concerns about this running very short of funds, but every now and again it received a generous contribution or legacy.  The report for 1867 describes how a a legacy of £100.00 was provided, making a substantial difference to the fund.

The chaplain also managed two voluntary schools, one each for male and female, as a form of leisure activity.  A schoolmaster was provided by the men, but women were taught by two nurses.  Over time as well as Bible study and reading, the school taught writing and basic arithmetic and one of the chaplain’s activities was to deliver books and periodicals to the patients, taking particular effort to make sure that those who had difficulty reading had material with plenty of illustrations.  In 1867 the school attracted 30 men and 30 women.
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Personnel

Staffing consisted of a Superintendent, an Assistant Medical Assistant, a Matron, a number of male and female attendants and nursing staff.  These were supplemented by a bailiff, a head gardener and his staff, workshop artisans, the lodge keeper and his wife, and a porter.  The farm, which included both livestock and crop production, would presumably have been staffed quite extensively.

Within the asylum, efforts were made to ensure that women staff worked in the female wards and that male staff worked in the men’s wards.  Long-term employees were provided with pensions.  In 1854, for example, a resident steward was appointed, a new matron replaced the incumbent matron who was provided with pension after 15 years of employment, the head attendant retired due to ill health after over 20 years of employment.  Both were provided with a pension of £20.00 per annum.  The outgoing Medical Superintendent was granted a pension of 200.00 per annum.

Staffing levels are usually reported on within the report, and in 1861 there is a useful insight into staffing at the asylum at that time:

On the male side there are a, head attendant, 13 ordinary attendants, (there being at present one vacancy,) and a gardener and an engineer, each of whom has charge of patients during the day. On the female side, under the Matron there are 15 nurses employed exclusively as such, and a laundress, a cook, and a housemaid. The above are exclusive of the night attendants, one in each division, whose duties, during one night in about 13, are taken in turn by the ordinary attendants.

There had been a reference in the report for 1866 to note that “in most cases” attendants had maintained good standards, which looked somewhat as though some details were being glossed over.  In 1867, it was not deemed possible to ignore that “on one or two occasions” attendants had been charged with striking patients, although no-one was dismissed.  From this year there were repeated problems in this regard.   The report for 1867 also commented that female attendants were short by two due to the difficulty of hiring suitable personnel.  It was suggested that this might be due to the low starting salaries, and it was recommended that this might be increased.

The Handbook for Attendants of the Insane. Source: Royal College of Nursing, “Out of the Asylum”

In 1865 the problem of training frontline staff, both attendants and nurses, in lunatic asylums was recognized by the medical profession and a manual was produced for their use, the Handbook for Attendants on the Insane. It was known colloquially as “The Red Book.” The book cover on the left shows that this was the sixth edition, a measure of its success.  You can read a copy of it on the Wellcome Collection website here (the 1884 edition).  It was not until the early 1890s that training schemes and examinations were first set up for frontline staff at lunatic asylums by the Medico-Psychological Association (which later became the Royal College of Psychiatrists).

In 1868 “considerable difficulty” was experienced finding “efficient and well-conducted” attendants to fill vacancies.  The loss of the Head Female Attendant in that year due to ill health lead to the combination of her role with that of the Matron (it is not recorded quite what the matron made of this).  These staffing difficulties may contributed to the finding of the Lunacy Commission Visitors in that year that although men presented an acceptable appearance, some of the female patients to be “poorly clad and still more untidy, and as if ill-attended to.”  One woman complained of injuries imposed by the staff, still visible, that had not been escalated to the upper hierarchy for investigation.  Although her bouts of violent epilepsy meant that her injuries may have been accidental or the result of trying to pacify her, the failure to report the incident was a cause of concern.  However, it is clear that there were real problems with some of the staff.  In the same year, 1868, a few of the staff members were dismissed for “misconduct, wilful neglect of patients and incompetency” and the rules for staff were revised to ensure the regulation of conduct within the asylum and to ensure proper attention to patient care, but there were still occasional problems.

In spite of genuine efforts, in 1869 several male attendants were dismissed, one of whom was prosecuted for striking a patient and was fined £10.00 per costs, which he paid rather than being imprisoned for three months (to put this in perspective, the National Archives Currency Converter suggests that today this would be equivalent to around £626.00, or 50 days salary for a skilled tradesman).

The combination of low salaries and increasing numbers of patients apparently made it difficult to hire sufficient attendants who had both the skills and the physical and appropriate personal attributes to care for patients according to the values of the moral treatment approach.  The experience at most asylums was that as patient numbers grew, it became increasingly difficult to maintain this empathetic approach, and it would be interesting to know how Dr Brushfield fared after he moved to Brookwood, which at the time of his new appointment had capacity for 650 patients.

 

Asylum Deaths in Overleigh Cemetery

Family gravestone that includes the name of Ellen McLean Thurston, who died in the asylum at the age of 42. Photograph by Christine Kemp. Source: FindAGrave.com

Without access to the asylum’s records it is difficult to find out information about patients, why they were there and how they died.  I have not yet found out where Asylum patients were buried prior to the opening of Overleigh Cemetery in 1850.  However, a burial dataset from Overleight itself can, in some casesbe matched up to newspaper reports.  The contents of this section have been provided by Christine Kemp’s entries for in the Virtual Asylum Cemetery for Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries on the Find A Grave website, putting names to some of the anonymous statistics captured in the annual report.

Overleigh Cemetery opened in November 1850.  To date Christine Kemp (Friends of Overleigh Cemetery) has found records of 67 patients at the asylum having been buried at Overleigh between 1852 and 1900, as well as 3 from other asylums (Tranmere, St Mary’s Parish and Latchford).  The youngest if these was 15 and the eldest 77.  Two were suicides.  According to Chris’s research on the Asylum Virtual Cemetery, of the 67 known Asylum patient burials, 26 (39%) had no memorials and are in unmarked graves, some of them were buried in common graves (7, or 10.5%), and one of them was interred in a communal cholera grave. In five cases, patient burials are recorded on plots with memorials, but their names are not mentioned on those memorials. Given the size of the asylum and the numbers of deaths recorded in the annual reports, others must remain to be identified or were buried elsewhere.  Cremation was not a possibility in Chester until as late as 1965.

Causes of death are almost never shown on gravestones, but some of them refer to the suffering of the deceased in life.  The memorial for asylum patient Edward Edwards, who died at the age of 69 on the 26th January 1894, is an example of this genre and reads: “His Languishing Head is at Rest / Its thinking and aching are over / His quiet immovable breast / Is heaved by affliction no more.”

The understated gravestone of Edward (Ned) Langtry, husband of actress Lily Langtry. Photograph by Christine Kemp. Source: FindAGrave.com

Chris has managed to track how some of these people were employed in life, and most of those that she had were in fairly modest work, as one would expect from an asylum set up to assist paupers and those whose families could not afford their care. This agrees with the asylum records which show how patients were employed prior to being admitted.  A number were labourers, as well as the wives of labourers. Others are identified as a grocer’s assistant, a tailor, a porter, the wife of a wagoner, a pub landlord and the wife of a pub landlord, a sergeant major, a stone mason, a bricklayer, a mariner, the wife of a coachman, a “gentleman’s gardener,” a painter, a butcher, a fitter, a store and timekeeper, a char-woman, an engine driver, and a collier.

An unusual asylum patient was Edward (Ned) Langtry, the former husband of popular actress Lily Langtry, from whom he had separated in 1887.  In October 1897 he was found wandering after a bad fall in a state of delirium and was referred to the asylum by a magistrate, although he would probably have been better referred to hospital care.  He died in the asylum after nine days, suffering from “inflammation of the brain.”  His gravestone is a very understated affair, but the newspaper records that Lily Langtry sent a very impressive bouquet!  The full report of Ned Langtry’s death was reported in the Chester Courant, which can be seen on Chris’s entry on the FindAGrave website.

The asylum deaths reported in newspapers are useful exceptions, because most of the asylum deaths were not usually reported in any detail in the newspapers, such as the Cheshire Observer and the Chester Courant, unless the story was in some way sensational.  For example, another newspaper story reports on the death of asylum inmate Martha Miller who was buried in Overleigh Old Cemetery in an unmarked grave in 1879, and whose acts against her children makes for grizzly reading:

Grave of Martha Miller. Photograph by Chris Kemp (who marks the position of unmarked plots using bunches of flowers). Source: FindAGrave.com

She was the 3rd wife of Daniel Miller, Innkeeper of the Yacht Inn, Watergate Street, Chester. He had four living children from his previous marriages and two children with Martha, who was expecting their third. Martha had been in delicate health and had ruptured four blood vessels in the last nine months and had become quite despondent. On a Friday night in June she went to bed with two of her children from her present marriage, Alice aged 2½ yrs and Elizabeth Mary (Lizzie), aged 12 months. Shortly afterwards screams were heard by her stepdaughter Emma. Daniel broke down the bedroom door because it was locked, to find Martha had cut the throats of the children with a table knife, one fatally. She then had tried to commit suicide by the same means. Doctors were called for, who assisted with staunching the flow of blood. Martha who had become violent was put in a straitjacket and confined to the County lunatic asylum, Upton, Chester. Lizzie was taken to the infirmary where she recovered. Martha died at the lunatic asylum aged 30 yrs, after giving birth prematurely. At the Coroner’s inquest she was found ‘guilty of wilful murder’ of Alice Miller. Martha was buried on the 16th October 1879. Her baby daughter Martha, who was born prematurely in the asylum died just a few weeks after her mother on the 30th November 1879. (Source:- Cheshire Observer 21st June 1879 and Chester Courant 15th October 1879) [Researched by Christine Kemp and recorded on the FindAGrave website]

Another example is shoemaker Joseph Crawford whose death was reported in the Cheshire Observer on 14th November 1896.  He had been in the asylum for eight years, suffering from “chronic mania” and died suddenly, returning from church.  Interestingly, although the gravestone gives the name of his wife, who had died in 1882, and there was plenty of room for his name, and Chris has found a record of him being buried in this plot, his name is not mentioned on the gravestone.  Either there were no funds to inscribe the stone, or the manner of his death had lead any remaining family to decide to exclude his memory.

It will be very interesting to try to match the cemetery data with the asylum’s own records when the latter become available in 2026.  Although the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies listing of what they hold indicates that there are no burial records for the asylum, they do hold records of deaths, so it may be possible to extract information from the latter to tie in to the cemetery data.

I have assembled all the information that Chris has made available on her Virtual Asylum Cemetery in a 6-page table, which can be downloaded here, with accompanying notes.
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Sample page from the table and notes showing Cheshire Lunatic Asylum deaths buried at Overleigh Cemetery, assembled from data gathered by Christine Kemp.

After 1870

The asylum continued to grow after 1870, and was still operating when it was absorbed into the NHS in 1948.  On 31st December 1870 there were 536 patients in the asylum.  In 1910 this had risen to 1000, 1500 in the 1920s and 2000 in the 1930s.  In 1895 a completely new hospital was added to the site to the north of the original 1829 building, designed by Grayson and Ould, freeing up the 1829 building to be used as the women’s ward.  In 1912 a new dedicated block was built for epileptics, which had a more domestic feel to it.

The former Parkside Lunatic Asylum in Macclesfield, which opened in 1871 as a second Cheshire county asylum, to ease some of the pressure on Chester. Photograph by Colin Park CC BY-SA 2.0. Source: Wikipedia

In the 1860s it became clear that the hospital, catering for the entire county, was simply unable to cope, and the decision was made to build a new asylum to serve the east of the county.  The Second Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, also known as the Parkside Lunatic Asylum opened in May 1871 to accommodate 700 patients, with additional buildings added later to absorb over 1500 patients by 1938.  The Parkside Lunatic Asylum’s architectural style and layout represent a completely different paradigm from that of the original Cheshire Lunatic Asylum building of 1829.  It was  designed by Robert Griffiths, who specialized in institutional architecture and was built of red brick with features picked out attractively in contrasting pale and black stone and dressings.   The design is in the Italianate style, looking rather like a downscaled version of Osborne House (built for Queen Victoria on the Isle of Wight between 1845 and 1851).  Instead of a single building linked by a main corridor, Parkside was built on the pavilion-corridor arrangement, with discrete blocks connected by multiple corridors.

 

Future research potential

The reports used here, the annual Report of the Committee of Visitors and Superintendents, have so many statistical tables that have only been touched on here, and I have simply presented what they contain.  There has been no attempt at analysis.  A well-structured project to analyze this data would reveal much more than I have been able to even hint at for the asylum in the mid-1800s.   In addition, I have not discussed the accounts that are presented in the same reports, and that would benefit from the attention of someone who is familiar with accounting methods.

Cheshire Archives and Local Studies contents listing of records available when the offices open in 2026

There are many untold stories that live outside the reports used here, from the chairmen, the committee members, the visiting committee members, the staff, patients and those local community residents who paid into the voluntary fund for discharged patients.  It will be fascinating to see what is available in the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies office in Chester when it reopens in 2026 so that the earlier and later history of the asylum can be investigated, and it may be possible obtain insights into some of the individual stories of those who worked at, were admitted to and who contributed to the asylum.

It will also be very interesting to try to match Cheshire Archives records with the the Overleigh cemetery and inquest data.  Although the Cheshire Archives listing of what they hold indicates that there are no burial records for the asylum, they do hold records of deaths, so it may be possible to extract information to tie the two datasets together.  For example, it should be possible to match admission and discharge names with those in Overleigh and track back to inquests and newspaper reports.

Screen grab of the header from the Riverside archives list

At the same time, it would be worth investigating the Riverside Museum in Chester, which also has archives that are relevant to the asylum, and although these have not been digitized a listing of its holdings can be downloaded here.   Objects at the same museum may also provide insights into the material culture of the asylum at different times.

Another aspect of the Riverside Museum is that it informs visitors about how nursing became professionalized.  Although this might seem like history from above, as nursing was part of the infrastructure of control, in fact nursing was itself in its very earliest stages.  The role of women in the operation of an asylum is an aspect of how asylums developed.  Each asylum had a matron, and there was one from the beginning at the Chester asylum, but quite what her role was in the asylum, and how many female staff she oversaw is not entirely clear. Female staff would have been needed for female patients.  How much of this was caring and how much enforcement would depend on the nature of the patient and her symptoms.  At what point female attendants became a professional female body of nurses, becoming more expert and informed throughout the 19th century, is unclear, but the professionalization of nursing provided women with the opportunity to take on roles that were not merely menial, although such roles of course existed, but could be increasingly skilled.  If the data is available, and it is a big if, research into the role of women in the Chester asylum might produce some very interesting results when combined with other data and compared with nursing in hospital infirmaries and orphanages.

I originally intended to do a search on the asylum via the British Newspaper Archive, but the reports were so rich that I ran out of both room on this post, and time, so I decided to leave that for now, and perhaps pick it up at another time.  The same can be said for the Reports of the Commissioners in Lunacy to the Lord Chancellor.

The abandoned Denbigh Lunatic Asylum. Photograph by Steve R. Bishop. Source Everywhere from Where You are Not

Other institutions also related directly to the Chester asylum.  Several asylums had a relationship with the Chester asylum, each exchanging patients when they reached capacity, and this would be worth investigating.  One of those asylums, the Denbigh asylum, would be worth an investigation in its own right, as would the Macclesfield Parkside Asylum that opened in 1871 in east Cheshire.

The role of the clergy in the Chester asylum is interesting, and the role of clergy in other asylums would also be well worth exploring for comparative purposes.  Perhaps most importantly, the relationship between lunatic asylums and workhouses was obviously of fundamental importance to both types of institution, with problems associated with how patients were transferred between them, and this would be a fascinating area of investigation.

Finally, It would also be really useful to tie in the history of Victorian Chester with that of the asylum and see if there is any way of tying the two together to find correlations.

 

Final Comments on the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum

The 1829 Building

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was built in an era of social reform, and evolved during a period when philanthropy and social conscience were translated, painfully slowly, into governmental intervention and the passing of new laws.  The 1829 Building represents one of many strategies to cope with the multiple challenges of all the symptoms of mental illnesses, which do not have, after all, a single identifiable cause.

One of the buildings once associated with the lunatic asylum, possibly the “villa” built for the treatment of epileptics in 1912.  Never a thing of architectural beauty, it’s still a part of the asylum’s heritage, and very sad sight in this condition.  As of April 2025 it is a hive of activity, and is perhaps being converted for new use

As the 19th century developed beyond 1870, asylums continued to grow and new custom-designed institutions could be absolutely vast.  It is clear that the buildings of the Chester Lunatic Asylum continued to grow and adapt to meet demand.  In the first years of the 1890s the decision was made to add a completely new building, which was built between 1892 and 1898 to the north of the original building.  This housed the male patients, whilst the original building was used for women.  In 1911 a separate building known as “the villa” was established near the chapel for epileptics, and other buildings were established after the First World War.  The site continued to be expanded in the late 19th and throughout much of the 20th century to meet growing demands for its services.   It is by no means clear, without access to the reports, what sort of ethos and approach was taken when the asylum’s population had become so big.

The new NHS took over the hospital in 1948 and in the 1970s it became a department of the new general hospital that combined the Chester Royal Infirmary and the City Hospital.  In 1984 it was renamed the Countess of Chester.  In 2005 its original function was replaced by the Bowmere Psychiatric Unit and in 2016 Ancora House (the latter for young people, shown at the end, a presumably deliberate modern echo of the 1829 Building).

The 2016 Ancora House, just behind the chapel, employs some of the same devices that were used in The 1829 Building, with a central, noticeable and colourful entrance flanked by evenly positioned rectangular windows on a long facade.  Even the sculpture outside is a throwback to attempts to make the surrounding estate more attractive.

The 1829 Building is no longer longer devoted exclusively to mental health care  but contains other departments too. Other parts of the Countess of Chester continue to offer psychiatric support as mental illness continues to be a problem for families, for state and for society.  The modern Ancora House which opened behind the 19th century asylum chapel in 2016 and is shown here has now taken over much of that role.

Chester asylum was an early adopter of many aspects of the “moral treatment approach,” particularly impressive in a public asylum. With access to the airing courts, gardens, and facilities for entertainment and social engagement, the   Its oversight committee and its superintendents seem to have had the interests of its patients at heart, even when the growing numbers of patients was clearly becoming a problem as the century proceeded.  I have not yet been able to follow its fortunes beyond 1870, and I do wonder if, like so many contemporaries, it became swamped with the sheer volume of patients, and began to abandon its attempts to create an empathetic and socializing environment.  That’s a project for another time.

There are several other lines of potential investigation, with many more avenues to pursue, covering a much longer timespan than the sixteen years of 1854-1870 covered here, and there is a lot of work to be done on this very important topic to understand mental healthcare in the 19th century and more recent periods in the Cheshire and neighbouring areas.  It would be lovely to see something like the Staffordshire’s Asylums Project set up for Chester.

 

Final Comments on parts 1 and 2

Cheshire Lunatic Asylum water tower, now on Frost Drive, in the middle of a modern housing estate

It has been an absolute voyage of discovery to learn about the development of lunatic asylums in England and Wales, and often thoroughly hair-raising.  The notoriously punitive asylums of the late 17th and early 18th century became more regulated, and reformist asylum owners introduced new “moral treatment” approaches that were far more empathetic, attempting to work towards cures.  Many of these approaches were incorporated into public asylums, and as early as 1853 the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum had abandoned the use of physical restraints, in accordance with new rules.  These approaches acknowledged that there was no cure-all solution, and that different symptoms required flexibility towards the provision of a range of treatments.

It still seems remarkable to me that as I was reading all the standard texts, as well as first-hand 19th century accounts about lunatic asylums, both public and private, the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum is almost never mentioned under any of its alternative names.  The first thing I do when I get hold of a new book is flip to the index, or if it is a paper saved as a PDF, do a word search, but Chester is almost never mentioned. It seems to have fallen between the cracks in the history of 19th century lunatic asylums, which strikes me as somewhat peculiar.  As a vast county lunatic asylum for paupers, growing every year, and battling to maintain standards with ambitions to restore its patients to society, it seems to have been something of a pioneer.  And yet it is almost never mentioned.

Page 487 from Conolly’s 1830 “An inquiry concerning the indications of insanity : with suggestions of the
better protection and care of the insane”

Reading the original texts of people like Samuel Tuke (1811), John Conolly (specifically his 1830 thoughts) and Robert Gardiner Hill (1838) and even the later reports for the Chester asylum, there is a sense of a brave new world, an innovation of care for the mentally unwell, and a profound interest in helping those who were suffering to find a route back to a conventional and peaceful life. The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum under Dr Nadauld Brushfield was a part of that trend to find answers and help rather than subjugate the mentally ill.

With hindsight, the approaches that seemed so pioneering, the product of real humanity and social conscience, were limited in what they could achieve and they have come under some criticism today.  First, it is suggested that they suffered from a normalizing attitude, failing to differentiate for treatment purposes between multiple possible causes of insanity, whether medical or psychological, treating all forms of mental illness as though they would respond to a single homogeneous approach. These ethically driven asylums have also been accused by influential writers like Foucault of trying to use coercion and incarceration to impose strict behavioural norms as a form of social control to conform to middle class values of decorum and self-control, although this seems to miss the point that patients in many asylums were no longer treated as sub-human but were given the dignity of being treated as coherent, thinking participants in a community and were provided with an opportunity to learn how to re-integrate.  However not all mental afflictions could be approached with those treatments.  As more people entered asylums a significant problem seems to have been one of resources.  The empathetic approach of moral treatment became far more difficult to apply to even those for whom it may well have worked.  At the same time, there was a change of direction to begin categorizing different types of mental illness to make the task of looking for solutions, remedies and cures far more scientific.  It resulted in some truly shocking approaches, most of which have now been abandoned.

There is a sense running through the 16 years of the reports used here that the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, whilst experiencing problems due to overcrowding and occasional personnel issues, was a well-run and compassionate institution that suffered few suicide or escape attempts, and did its best to provide quality of life for its inmates.  Even so, care did not equate to cure and it is obvious that there was a long way to go before treatment was converted to remedies and solutions that endured.

Finally, the uncertainties regarding mental health today mean that the 19th century attempts to address these issues are all the more impressive, even when the challenges of implementation did not live up to what were often, although not always, very good intentions.  As I commented at the end of part 1, and since which time I have done a lot more reading on the subsequent 20th and 21st history of mental health, from the beginning of lunatic asylums governments have struggled to know how to cope with those suffering from mental illness.  Institutional care for patients suffering from mental illness is no longer a prominent feature of state responsibility, specialist institutions having been largely replaced by “care in the community” since the late 1980s when Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, responding to an Audit Commission report in 1986, made it a reality.  This potentially deprives the mentally ill from a sense of community and support that institutions dedicated to their care might provide. Some social scientists and sociologists like Andrew Scull argue that apart from a very few exceptions like syphilis and pellagra, absolutely no consensus exists even today on what causes mental illnesses or how to handle most forms of severe mental instability: “A penicillin for disorders of the mind or brain remains a chimera.”  Whilst medicine continues to make advances all the time, and in spite of the fact that “mental health” is now one of the most over-used terms in modern society, the treatment of mental illness is still in need of much more investment and resources.

 

Afterthought – coats of arms associated with the asylum

 

This is the emblem included on most of the Reports of the Committee of Visitors and Superintendent of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, and a version of it appears on the pediment of the 1829 building.  Both versions show the Chester coat of arms at the centre, showing the usual three wheat sheaves, but the mottos differ.

In the report version, the crowned coat of arms has the words “Honi Soit qui mal i pense” around the three sheafs, meaning “shame on anyone who thinks evil of it.”  The text on which the arms rest reads “Antiqui Colant Antiquum Dierum” meaning “Let The Ancients Worship the Ancient Days.”

Pediment of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum

On the pediment there is no text around the coat of arms, but beneath the motto on the pediment the text reads “Jure et dignitate gladii, a phrase often associated with the Chester coat of arms, meaning “by the right and dignity of the sword.” Sorry it’s a bit fuzzy – I took it with my smartphone when I was there for a jab!

Flanking the coat of arms in both examples are two dragons, each with wings and forked tails.  The dragons in the pediment only have two legs.  In  both versions each dragon holds a feather, the meaning of which eludes me, although I believe that this motif is usually associated with the Black Prince (Edward of Woodstock, son of Edward III, who had been invested with the earldom and county of Cheshire in 1333), and was later adopted by Henry VII.  If anyone can decipher this dragon-related symbolism for me, please get in touch!
xxx

Sources:

This second part of the piece on the Cheshire Archaeological Asylum depends almost completely on the annual Reports of the Committee of Visitors and Superintendent of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum Reports for the years 1854-1870.  Thankfully, the Wellcome Collection website has the digitized records of the Reports produced between and 1855 and 1871 (relating to the years 1854 to 1870), which have been digitized and are available for download free of charge.

All other sources are listed on a separate page because of its length, covering both parts of the post, updated at the time of posting part 2 here:
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/heritage/sources-for-cheshire-lunatic-asylum/

 

The rear of the 1829 Building as it is today

 

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Cheshire Lunatic Asylum: The development of lunatic asylums – Part 1.1

The 1829 Building, built as Cheshire’s first lunatic asylum

 

Beginning with nine voluntary institutions, the asylum movement rolled across the 19th century English landscape like an avalanche gathering pace. The ‘mentally unsound’ were moved in ever greater numbers from their communities to these institutions.  From 1808, parliament authorised publicly funded asylums for ‘pauper lunatics’, and 20 were built. From 1845 it became compulsory for counties to build asylums, and a Lunacy Commission was set up to monitor them. By the end of the century there were as many as 120 new asylums in England and Wales, housing more than 100,000 people.

Historic England:  The Growth of the Asylum – a Parallel World

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Introduction

As part of my ongoing series looking at Overleigh Cemetery, I asked Christine Kemp of the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery about the suicides she knew of in Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries.  In the 19th century suicide was more often than not deemed to be the result of temporary insanity.  Looking into how suicide was handled in the 19th century lead me to the discovery, probably very familiar to most Chester residents, that there had been a “lunatic asylum” where the enormous site of the Countess of Chester Hospital is now located at Upton.

The rear of the 1829 Building today

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was a public institution established to house pauper lunatics as well as a limited number of paying private patients in 1829.  The asylum opened on a 10 acre site in 1829 to accommodate 45 women and 45 men, reflecting the fairly even numbers of both at asylums in the 19th century.  It grew throughout the 19th century and eventually occupied a significant area of over more than 55 acres.

The exterior of the earliest building remains in situ, and has the appearance of an elegant and stately Georgian-style building with a small Classical portico, looking very much more like a the remnant of a country estate than the intimidating prison-type establishment that I had been expecting.  An elegant façade was typical of 19th century asylums.  Today the asylum building is still an active part of the Countess of Chester Hospital, officially named “The 1829 Building” (Grade 2 listed), housing a number of departments including Adult Mental Health, Physical Health and Brain Injury Services, as well as the GP Blood Test DepartmentWhen I was sent to the Blood Test department last year it was some consolation that I was being jabbed in the arm in a place of significant history.

The chapel (Grade 2 listed) was built in 1856 to serve the lunatic asylum, and still on the site although used for a different purpose

Most of the other buildings associated with the asylum have now been demolished, but nearby are the asylum’s 1856 chapel (Grade 2 listed) and the fenced-off and boarded-up remains of what I believe was “the villa,” the 1912 building for treating epilepsy (which had been treated as a mental illness up until the early 20th century). The recently restored water tower also remains.

Although it would have been great to jump into the story of the Chester Lunatic Asylum without delay, the background information was absolutely necessary to make any sense of that story.  In part 1, I have tried to do provide a sufficiently detailed background to give a sense of how the Chester Lunatic Asylum fits into the full history of mental health care in the 19th century.  In part 1 (split into part 1.1 and part 1.2 to make it easier to manage, but both posted on the same day) I look at the background history of what were known as lunatic asylums in the 18th and 19th centuries, with some additional brief comments on how this overlapped with workhouses.  Sources and references for all parts can be found hereA version of parts 1.1 and 1.2,without images, can be downloaded as a single PDF here (27 pages of A4)

In part 2 (also split into two parts) I discuss the Chester asylum itself, built in 1829, the name of which changed many times over the period of its use as an establishment for treating mental illness. Part 2 has been written and will be posted as soon as I have added in the images, probably next week.

Many thanks to historian Mike Royden for sharing his knowledge about the Tudor and Victorian Poor Laws and workhouses.  You can find out more about Mike’s research on his History Pages website.
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18th and 19th century terminology and its limitations

From at least the 17th century the terms “madhouse” and “lunatic asylum” were terms employed to indicate a place that confined the mentally ill.  These institutions were differentiated from hospitals that dealt with more conventional medical problems where attempts were made to treat rather than confine patients.  The term “asylum” was originally used to refer to places of refuge, retreat and sanctuary, but up until the late-18th century the lunatic asylums were generally custodial in character, often keeping inmates in very poor conditions, and were usually referred to as mad-houses. By the 19th century an asylum was generally an establishment that made claims to treat as well as confine inmates.

Terms such as “mad” and “lunatic,” as well as “idiot” and “imbecile” are now considered to be pejorative, as well as imprecise, and are no longer used in medical, psychiatric, sociological, legal or political contexts today.  In the Victorian and Edwardian periods, however, these were the standard terms used for those who suffered from some form of mental illness that incapacitated them emotionally or cognitively, temporarily or permanently, along a continuum from violent or otherwise harmful behaviour to mere learning difficulties.  The term “insanity” was also in common usage, but has not been entirely excluded from modern usage.  All terms are used throughout this post, reflecting the usage of the 18th and 19th centuries.

Insanity in the 18th and 19th centuries could include a vast array of conditions including delusions, paranoia, self-harm, hysteria, mood-swings, visions, speaking in tongues, irrational violence against others, senility, alcoholism, epileptic fits, dementia, mania, depression and suicidal behaviour. Even eccentricity, such as spiritualism or unconventional social behaviour, was sometimes interpreted as incipient lunacy and could lead to illicit confinement.

The earliest owners and overseers of mad-houses were known as “mad-doctors,” a term from which 19th century asylum owners attempted to distance themselves.  The later specialists in mental illness who claimed (and in some cases did) focus on treatment and cure, who were the predecessors of today’s psychologists and psychiatrists, were known as “alienists.”   The term derives from the idea of mental alienation.

When the only practical solution to lunacy was incarceration, it should have been a priority to establish a set of universal definitions for the unmanageable symptoms of lunacy, but without a centralized approach to this problem, none were forthcoming.  This lack of agreement about what did and did not constitute madness is exemplified by the case of Mrs Catherine Cumming who was abducted from her home and taken to York House Asylum near Battersea in London.  After a period of incarceration and a long legal battle, she was declared sane by a jury, and released.  When Thomas Wilmot, who had signed her lunacy certificate, was asked what he thought lunacy was, he replied that he had never seen a reasonable definition. One of the most notable features of the Cumming case was the number of medical experts called as witnesses, nineteen of them, including such notable names as John Conolly, Sir Alexander Morison and Dr Edward Monro.  As Sarah Wise summarized:

After the Cumming case, it was once again noted by most commentators how unsatisfactory it was that nineteen eminent medical men could give widely differing opinions of what constituted soundness of mind, tailoring their learning according to what ‘side’ in the dispute had hired them. One alienist had claimed that Mrs Cumming was a monomaniac, another that she was an imbecile, and yet another that she was perfectly sane. . . How safe was anyone when the experts had such divergent views of insanity? [Inconvenient People, p.177]

Individual conditions now required names so that patients could be labelled, statistics logged and cases discussed.  For example, research by Hill and Laughurne, based on 1870s records from St Lawrence’s Asylum in Bodmin (Cornwall), identified the most common conditions suffered by those admitted at the asylum.  Although the main reasons for admission were recorded as mania, dementia, melancholia, moral insanity and the combination of manic behaviour and dementia, it is not at all clear what these terms represent.  Hill and Laughurn tentatively apply the following attempts to suggest modern equivalents:  mania probably representing overactive episodes; dementia, which appeared to  include loss of cognition, memory loss, intellectual deficit, schizophrenia and losses of concentration; melancholia, which seems to have mainly indicated underactive episodes relating to depression; moral insanity (unspecified) and the combination of manic behaviour and dementia, which possibly describes bipolar disorder.

Similarly, a table from the 1855 report for the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, for both males (M) and females (F), shown below, records that the overarching symptoms in that year were mania, melancholia, dementia and amentia (defined as idiocy and imbecility), and these were further sub-categorized by the presence of epilepsy, general paralysis (also known as general paresis), and suicidal propensity.

The “Committee of Visitors and Superintendent of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum Report” of 1855, showing Reasons for Admission. Wellcome Collection

Unfortunately, the terms for mental illnesses are not used consistently from one institution to another, meaning that mapping them on to modern conditions can be very difficult.  The term dementia, for example, covered a variety of symptoms relating to mental illness at St Lawrence’s and Chester, but has become rather more precisely defined today.  Epilepsy was subsumed into the general category of mental illness until the later 19th and early 20th century when special epilepsy treatment centres were introduced, intended to be more domestic and less institutional.  Suicidal behaviour, with the multiplicity of potential causes and symptoms, even now sits in a somewhat liminal area between mental illness and the ability to make coherent decisions, blurring boundaries.

Admissions, Discharges (Cured and Relieved) and Deaths for Cheshire County Asylum, 1860. Source: Wellcome Collection

Another of the many challenges to understanding how lunatics were assessed was that there were no criteria for how a successful cure could be identified.  In York the Tuke’s compassionate asylum The Retreat, it was assumed that anyone who had been released was cured if they were not readmitted, but not only could this represent wishful thinking without additional data, but it sidestepped the task of creating behavioural or other measures that might be used in asylums to determine whether or not someone ought to be released or detained.  Like other asylums, the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum annual records show that each year a number of patients were released from the asylum, but it is impossible to know what this actually means, as there are no recorded criteria for determining whether or not a patient had been cured or, for example, sent home because they were not necessarily cured but were not dangerous to themselves or others (usually referred to as “relieved” rather than cured). The failure to define criteria to measure the success of treatment and recovery was a serious problem once patients were certified insane and committed to an asylum, because there was no universal agreement about how recovery could or should be recognized.  As well as being imprecise, the lack of clear definitions and criteria was potentially an invitation to corrupt or merely sceptical asylum owners to hold patients indefinitely.

For more on these and other terms see Historic England’s Glossary of Disability History.
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Practical problems associated with early mental illness

Engraving by T. Bowles 1735. “In a lunatic asylum, and in the company of a variety of other deranged individuals, a half-naked Ramble Gripe, his wrists chained, is restrained by orderlies.” Wellcome Collection Reference 38347i

Depending on its severity many forms of mental illness, and conditions like epilepsy that were interpreted as occasional bouts of madness, could be intensely distressing for the families and friends concerned.  Not only were the symptoms apparently incomprehensible and might seem  to be completely random, but they contravened social norms and conventions in a society that placed great value on normative behaviour.  It might be very difficult to manage the situation if symptoms were particularly acute, requiring physical intervention. Mental illness drew unwanted attention, could attract derision and social stigma, and might prevent family members from marrying due to fears of hereditary contamination.  Depictions of insanity in drama, literature, art, newspapers and magazines only inflated stigma and misunderstanding.  Unfortunately, until the 18th century there was very little official support for mental illness.  In rural locations families who could not keep a mentally or otherwise disabled family member at home could pay for their mentally ill relatives, including those with learning difficulties, to be cared by villagers or at local farms in need of income, sometimes providing indigent widows with a means of generating income. There was no official record of mentally ill people cared for at home.

Wealthy families could either hire an appropriate person to join the household to care for the afflicted individual, or send them to a private home or a privately run asylum where a frequently unqualified person would charge a fee to take the problem off a family’s hands.  Families with middle class and reliable working class incomes might depend on any home-based family members, usually female, to provide care, but less expensive privately run houses might again provide a solution. Private mad-houses only began to become prevalent from the 17th century, and operated as lucrative businesses, unlicensed, unregulated and without oversight, there were mad-houses priced for most pockets.  They were often owned or managed by individuals with no qualifications and run without any medically qualified person in attendance.  Even when operated by physicians or surgeons, these titles covered a multitude of sins and might mean anything from someone who was genuinely attempting to treat ailments to a quack doctor who was little better than a profiteering snake-oil salesman.

At the main gates to Bethlem at Moorgate were two sculptures, which just about say it all: “Melancholia” and “Raving Madness” (in chains) in 1689 by Caius Gabriel Cibber. Source: Wellcome Institute via Wikipedia

For pauper families, a lunatic family member was an even greater burden.  Lunatics whose families could not support them were forced to resort to begging.  These were amongst the most isolated and vulnerable people in society. The pauper insane were undifferentiated from other paupers, including vagrants, tramps, beggars.  Many found themselves in workhouses, and workhouses continued to have a role housing those will mental illnesses well into the 19th century.  Other less fortunate pauper lunatics would be incarcerated in prisons, particularly when violent.

The first charitable mad-house was the 1247 Priory of Our Lady of Bethlehem in London, which had taken in the insane from the early 15th century as a monastic duty.  For most of its life it was a small institution, with a capacity of few more than 40 individuals, but by the mid 19th century it was suffering from overcrowding.  Following the Great Fire of London in 1666 the largest public asylum investment in dealing with lunacy was the 17th century was in the new Bethlehem (also known as Bethlem and Bedlam), which opened in Moorfields on the edge of London in 1676 for 120 patients, with additional extensions added as it reached capacity.  Conditions were notoriously dire until the early 19th century.

Outside London care was organized under local parishes in a highly decentralized way, and these would sometimes provide accommodation for those who, through no fault of their own, were unable to support themselves.  Charitable asylums began to appear throughout England in the early 18th century, first in Norwich and London, then in Newcastle and Manchester by the middle of the century and, towards the end of the 18th century, others in York, Leicester, Liverpool and Hereford.
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Perceptions of lunacy in society in fiction and theatre

Gustave Doré illustration of Don Quixote in 1863. Source: Wikipedia

Accounts of madness appear in both Old and New Testaments, where they often provided a moral allegorical aspect to  religious narratives.  As literacy and theatre became increasingly popular, insanity became a major literary device in drama and poetry from the Elizabethan period.  This helped to spread an idea of insanity that was something both alien and dark, but at the same time eerily recognizable in the real world, creating both curiosity and fear.  The dramatization of madness appealed to the same sense of  fascination, aversion and suspense that horror and science fiction genres generate today.

Many playwrights used madness to add dramatic emphasis to a number of their plays including Christopher Marlowe’s Dr Faustus (first performed c.1594), Thomas Kyd’s The Spanish Tragedy (first performed 1587), Shakespeare’s Hamlet (first performed c.1601), King Lear (c.1606), and Macbeth (first performed c.1611),  Webster’s Duchess of Malfi (first performed 1614) and John Fletcher’s The Pilgrim (first performed 1621).  The novel Don Quixote (c.1605) by Miguel Cervantes, which depicted outright insanity as the main subject matter, was first translated into English in 1612, with a more popular version in 1700.   In the 18th century Tobias Smollett also translated Cervantes but also offered his own treatment of madness in Sir Launcelot Greaves (1760). Samuel Richardson explored his own versions of female madness in Clarissa (1748) and Sir Charles Grandison (1753).  In the late 18th and early 19th century George Crabbe’s poetry makes frequent reference to madness, and his poem Sir Eustace Grey (published in his collection of 1807), set in a “mad-house” and framed as a conversation between a patient, a doctor and a physician, examines the decline of a sane person into insanity. 

The more he felt misfortune’s blow;
Disgrace and grief he could not hide,
And poverty had laid him low:
Thus shame and sorrow working slow,
At length this humble spirit gave;
Madness on these began to grow,
And bound him to his fiends a slave.

Engravings of a series of William Hogarth’s The Rake’s Progress paintings, published in 1735, include this scene from a lunatic asylum, with wealthy female visitors looking on. Source: Wikipedia

Visual depictions are dominated by William Hogarth’s famous Rake’s Progress, which included a scene showing the Bethlem the asylum as a deranged and frenzied environment viewed by two wealthy ladies visiting the asylum to enjoy a spectacle of curiosity.  Although painted in the early 1730s it was engraved in 1755 after which it was widely distributed.  Satirical cartoonists, building on the work of Hogarth, became very popular in the 18th century, of whom James Gillray is by far the best known, although there were many others.  The satirical publication Punch shared many of these, and it was by no means unusual for them to depict politicians and other senior figures as madmen, some of them chained up in lunatic asylums, showing slapstick, scatological and often puerile visions of a flawed society.  As Cartoonist Martin Rowson says:

Bethlem Hospital, London: the incurables being inspected by a member of the medical staff, with the patients represented by political figures. By Thomas Rowlandson 1789. Source: Wellcome Collection Ref 536228i

Personally, I believe satire is a survival mechanism to stop us all going mad at the horror and injustice of it all by inducing us to laugh instead of weep. . .  That’s why, if we can, we laugh at both those things, as well as being disgusted and terrified by them. Beneath the veil of humour, there’s always a deep, disturbing darkness. [The Guardian, March 2015]

References to behaviour that seemed ill-suited to the rational world, particularly amongst politicians and the social elite, were easily ridiculed by reference to lunatic asylums, which played on the fears of society as well as on its inclination to deride the sane.

The Woman In White by Wilkie Collins, first serialized in 1859 before being published as a book. Source: Wilkie Collins Information Pages

Madness was a recurring theme in 19th century literature and British Victorian fictional literature continued to offer insights into how society perceived lunacy.  Works include Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (1847); The Woman in White (1859) and the short story Fatal Future (1874) both by Wilkie Collins; Charles Reade’s Hard Cash (1863); Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886), and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), to name but a few.  Insanity also finds its way into many novels and stories by Charles Dickens including the short story A Madman’s Manuscript (1836, from The Pickwick Papers) and the novels Bleak House (early 1850s) and Great Expectations (1861).  

Madness was also featured in opera, particularly adaptations of Shakespeare’s plays, and those by Gaetano Donizetti who made particular use of madness as a device. Donizetti’s Anna Bolena of 1830, in which Anna (Anne Boleyn) goes mad in the Tower of London as she awaits execution, suffering delusions) was premiered in London 1831. Donizetti’s 1838 Lucia de Lammermoor, based on Sir Walter Scott’s 1819 novel The Bride of Lammermoor, in which the eponymous heroine goes mad when her brother forces her into a loveless marriage, was first performed in London in 1836, with a famous Eccola! mad scene.  Lucrezia Borgia, dates to 1833 and was premiered in London in 1839.  Other well known operas that feature insanity are Vincenzo Bellini’s I Puritani, in which the heroine goes mad when she is abandoned at the altar and in Wolgang Amadeus Mozart’s Idomeneo win which the vengeful Elettra, another woman unlucky in love, goes splendidly mad with grief and rage at the end of the opera.

The mad Bertha Mason as envisaged by F. H. Townsend for the second edition of Jane Eyre, published in 1847. Source: Wikipedia

The above-mentioned functional works by Charlotte Brontë, Wilkie Collins and Charles Reade dealt with wrongful detainment, either at home or in an asylum, bringing a new risk to public attention.  The impact of these fictional works were considerably exacerbated by real-life incidents of wrongful detainment.  Sarah Wise’s book Inconvenient People provides many examples of illicit incarceration and how these were handled.  An early 19th century example is the case of one Mrs Hawley.  It is worth quoting James Peller Malcolm’s 1808 account in Anecdotes of the Manners and Customs of London during the Eighteenth Century Including the Charities, Depravities, Dresses, and Amusements etc to give an example of how the sort of accounts that the public were reading:

Amongst the malpractices of the Century may be included the Private Mad-houses. At first view such receptacles appear useful, and in many respects preferable to Public; but the avarice of the keepers, who were under no other control than their own consciences, led them to assist in the most nefarious plans for confining sane persons, whose relations or guardians, impelled by the same motive, or private vengeance, sometimes forgot all the restraints of nature, and immured them in the horrors of a prison, under a charge of insanity.  Turlington kept a private Mad-house at Chelsea: to this place Mrs. Hawley was conveyed by her mother and husband, September 5, 1762, under pretense of their going on a party of pleasure to Turnham-Green. She was rescued from the coercion of this man by a writ of Habeas corpus, obtained by Mr. La Fortune, to whom the lady was denied by Turlington and Dr. Riddle; but the latter having been fortunate enough to see her at a window, her release was accomplished. It was fully proved upon examination, that no medicines were offered to Mrs. Hawley, and that she was perfectly sane.

This incident lead to a Select Committee investigation appointed by the House of Commons to investigate wrongful detention in private asylums, and lead to Madhouse Act of 1774 (on which more later), which recognized the problem and although it did not do nearly enough to tackle it, set a useful precedent for applying legal measures to madhouses.  Legislation throughout the 19th century attempted to prevent wrongful certification, but there were four highly publicized scandals on illegal incarceration in 1858 that fuelled public fear and even as late as 1890 laws were being introduced to prevent collusion between those attempting to admit sane patients and certain medical men incentivized to receive them.

Introduction to Nellie Bly’s account of her undercover work in an American asylum. Source: Internet Archive

The requirements for committing the poor in public asylums were less stringent.  This was not an elitist measure.  The wealthy were far more vulnerable to family manipulation for self-gain, and as Sarah Wise has demonstrated, men were just as vulnerable in this respect as women.  Pauper lunatics whose families had little financial incentive to incarcerate impoverished relatives, except to reduce the pressure on household costs.  On the other hand the wealthy were universally treated far more kindly than the poor.

In America, Nellie Bly’s late 19th century journalistic account of the ten days she spent on an undercover assignment, incarcerated in an American women’s asylum caused a public outcry similar to that attached to the repeated scandals at Bethlem, the York Lunatic Asylum scandals in 1790 and 1814 and the four highly publicized cases of 1858.  Bly’s experiences were published and widely distributed in book form in 1887.  Nellie Bly, the pen-name for Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman, was a correspondent on The New York World, and her articles and book served to raise awareness of the true horrors that still existed so late in the 19th century on both sides of the Atlantic.

All these different types of medium demonstrate that madness was a powerful artistic and dramatic device, eliciting feelings of both fascination and dread.
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Approaches to lunacy before 1830

The 1676 front page from “The Anatomy of Melancholy” by Robert Burton, first published in 1621. Source: Shakespeare Birthplace Trust

One of the earliest non-fiction books to be published on the subject of mental instability was Robert Burton’s (1577 – 1640) startling and difficult 1621 The Anatomy of Melancholy which ranges freely through all aspects of religion, the Classics and literature to discuss, in a somewhat tangled narrative, a variety of behaviours that he brings together under “melancholy” that he generally equates to madness:

That men are so misaffected, melancholy, mad, giddy-headed, hear the testimony of Solomon, Eccl.ii.12. “And I turned to behold wisdom, madness and folly,” &c. And ver.23: “All his days are sorrow, his travel grief, and his heart taketh no rest in the night.” So that take melancholy in what sense you will, properly or improperly, in disposition or habit, for pleasure or for pain, dotage, discontent, fear, sorrow, madness, for part, or all, truly, or metaphorically, ’tis all one. Laughter itself is madness according to Solomon, and as St. Paul hath it, “Worldly sorrow brings death.” “The hearts of the sons of men are evil, and madness is in their hearts while they live,” Eccl.ix.3. “Wise men themselves are no better.” Eccl.i.18.

This is one of many publications that demonstrate that there was no science-based medical understanding of madness before the later 19th century, partly because there was little understanding of human anatomy or neurology, and partly because of the existence of well-honed model of human biology.  In the late 11th century the published research of Arab scholars came to the west, where it had a colossal impact on how the world was understood and interpreted, offering new explanatory models that were not dependent on Christian conventions or traditional folklore, but were still woefully inaccurate.

The Four Humours and their characteristics. Source: National Library of Medicine

The dominant medical model from the medieval period, echoes of which lasted well into the 19th century, derived from Greek thinking was medical, based on Hippocrates and modifications of Hippocrates by Galen.  Forming the foundation of medieval ideas of biology and the treatment of ailments, these beliefs were based on the theory that humans were were made up of four basic elements called humours, which were characterized by specific properties that had to be kept in balance in order for health and well-being to be maintained. Failure to balance these humours was thought to result in illness and/or mental instability.  This was a powerful explanatory model that appeared to offer solutions but although it avoided some often unpleasant divine, magical and superstitions approaches, with which it lived side by side, it represented a complete lack of understanding of human biology and anatomy.  Various often painful and harmful techniques were employed in attempts to restore equilibrium to these imaginary humours. Some of the treatments were quite literally torturous, intended to draw out or counteract imbalances. Together with explanations citing demonic influence, the humours were an important part of medieval belief that leaked into the 18th and early 19th centuries.  Treatments included restraints long periods of isolation and so-called treatments including purging, bloodletting, food deprivation, hot and cold water immersion and beating to attempt to treat madness with physical measures, and presumably to enforce better behaviour.

The issue of whether or not madness could be treated to reduce or eliminate symptoms became a matter of considerable importance to the royal family and the government at the end of the 18th century.  Beginning in the 1780s, King George III (1738-1820) experienced phases of severe mental disturbance.  This brought with it an interest in research into symptoms of madness at state level.  The king’s medical team included Francis Willis, a former clergyman who owned an asylum in Lincolnshire.  Willis’s treatment of King George indicates that the treatments employed in both private and public asylums were genuinely believed to have a beneficial impact because the king was subjected to the same type of treatment practised to rebalance humours, and which Willis used in his own asylum, including ice baths, purging, enforced vomiting, burns, denial of food, and restraints.  King George appeared to improve after treatment, and Willis was well-rewarded, but the king’s condition worsened again in the early 18900s.  In 1810, perhaps because his illness was exacerbated by the death of his daughter Princess Amelia, he withdrew from official duties, although lived for another 10 years.

By far the most common solution for non-royal lunatics was some form of containment.  As Lucy Series puts it: “A key tenet of the law of institutions is that some people belong in ‘institutions’ (at least some of the time) and others do not.”  Those institutions were designed to separate the mad from their homes and communities “spatially, legally and socially.”  It was  from the late 17th century in London and the 18th century elsewhere in Britain that the problems associated with madness began to be approached by both private enterprise and, more slowly, charities.  Private asylums were unlicensed and unregulated, operating completely outside any legal framework, and as early as 1728 Daniel Defoe (writing under the pseudonym Andrew Moreton) referred to the “vile practice” of incarcerating family members for personal advantage.  Operated as commercial ventures, and often very profitable, they grew in great numbers.  The new 1676 public Bethlem hospital for 120 patients, was designed by Robert Hooke along impressively grandiose lines but it was poorly constructed and deteriorated rapidly, requiring extensive maintenance and repair.  It has become infamous for charging tourists a fee to view the mentally disturbed, a practice not stopped until 1770.  It treated the mentally ill as sub-human, barely better than chained animals, and conditions became notoriously dreadful, not tackled until a new reformist superintendent was installed in 1815.

Seven vignettes of people suffering from different types of mental illness. Lithograph by W. Spread and J. Reed, 1858. Source: Wellcome Collection, Ref. 20076i

As the 19th century proceeded, lunacy or madness was interpreted in different ways, both medical and philosophical, drawing together the brain, the body and the mind in new exploratory but untested directions.  In Britain, as well as elsewhere, physical examination of the skull (phrenology) and the face (physiognomy) were approaches that attempted to find the source of madness in visible physical details, but there was little attempt to develop a scientific understanding of madness or how to treat it.  Britain’s alienist German counterparts, were more closely affiliated with universities and adopted academic approaches, and developed new ideas towards mental illness in laboratory environments where hypotheses formed and tested.  It is in Germany that the term “psychiatry” was first coined in the early 19th century, and from where  many of the innovations in understanding mental illness started to emerge.  In the late 19th century Emil Kraepelin, Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Heidelberg, recognized and described the mental illness dementia praecox, later renamed schizophrenia.  This type of research began to influence some British researchers, some of whose own work was recorded in the Journal of Mental Science.  Linkages between pathological conditions (such as infectious disease), and mental conditions were only recognized in the later 19th century.  For example, the connection between the sexually transmitted infection syphilis and its late-phase symptoms (including mood swings, antisocial behaviour, delusions and seizures) was only recognized in the late 1880s.

There were no medicines available to treat the causes of mental illness.  The only medications available were for the treatment of symptoms, not causes.  Tranquilizers, a certain amount of pain relief and the treatments for fever were the only available forms of relief for patients.  For very violent patients the only measures were sedatives, restraints and isolation.
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The growth of the lunatic asylum 1751-1834

Sketch of the original plan of the Chester Union Workhouse. Source: Chester – A Virtual Stroll Around the Walls

The Old Poor Law (officially the Act for the Relief of the Poor) of 1601 had been instigated during the reign of Elizabeth I was modified but largely changed until the 1834.  It classified paupers as the able-bodied who were unable to find employment, the able-bodied who refused to find employment, and those who due to illness, old age, disability or other infirmities, including lunacy, were unfit for employment and needed relief.  In the 18th century the institutional mechanisms available for the mentally ill who had no family assistance were mainly hospitals, workhouses, almshouses, and prisons each set up to cater for different types of problem and accompanying symptoms.  Some parishes paid for lunatics to be housed in private house, where they could be confined, but public funding of lunatic confinement was unusual.

The problem of poverty and paupers is well represented by the multitude of poor laws that were introduced throughout the Tudor and Jacobean periods.  The church and charitable organizations might assist with payments and household supplies, and even housing for the poor, providing a accommodation and food in return for labour, but such resources were few and far between and did not apply to lunatics.  A much more familiar solution for the pauper insane became the workhouse, an early institution initially set up with the laudable intention of helping the poor on a parish by parish basis, partly funded by the “poor rate”, and which also took in the pauper insane.  Charitable public lunatic asylums, some raised by subscription, were introduced at the end of the 18th century, and became more important as workhouses became more penal in character, but workhouses were still acknowledged places of detention and safekeeping for the insane and the imbecile well into the 19th century.

The 1713 and 1744 Vagrancy Acts distinguished between lunatics and criminals, imposing much less severe treatment on the former, but providing for their detention.  In practice, this meant incarceration in a jail or Bridewell rather than a death sentence.  In 1723 the General Workhouse Act, intending to reduce the ongoing costs of maintenance of unemployed paupers, allowed parishes to erect a workhouse, and judge whether those who were out of work should be sent to the workhouse and to labour for their shelter and food.  They were built all over Britain in their 100s.  Paupers with learning difficulties or mental illnesses were regularly subsumed into the workhouse system due to the lack of any practical alternative. Although anyone could leave, at least in theory, the workhouse was not a place of rehabilitation, and was designed to be sufficiently ghastly to deter people from seeking state help.  Some workhouses had a wing for lunatics, but the conditions were very poor.  Whilst it probably did lead some to seek work, the system penalized those who were genuinely unable to work.

St Luke’s Hospital, Cripplegate, London: the facade from the east. Engraving after T. H. Shepherd. Source: Wellcome Collection, ref. 26120i

A new model of lunatic asylums is represented by St Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics, founded on Old Street in Cripplegate (London), which opened in 1751.  The neoclassical façade favoured by was emulated by several later institutions.  Its first head physician was Dr William Battie, who set himself up in opposition to the barbaric and punitive regime at Bethlem, and published his Treatise on Madness in 1758, describing his contrasting approach.  He distinguished between un-treatable congenital madness and that caused by a social environment, which might be treated.  He was unusual in preferring treatment to constraint, and although his methods were interventionist, his belief that mental illness was treatable and even curable was influential.  He ran a school at the hospital in the hope that this would disperse his teachings and approaches.  Although he took in pauper lunatics, Battie ran the hospital as a profitable commercial venture.

The 1774 Act for Regulating Private Madhouses (and sometimes referred to as the Lunacy Act or the Madhouse Act ) was an early attempt to regulate and manage private madhouses. Public asylums were not regulated by this Act. One of its achievements was the appointment of five Commissioners who were Fellows of the Royal College of Physicians who would inspect private asylums, and although these were only in the London area it was a step towards certification and licencing.  Another important measure was designed to ensure that anyone committed required two referrals by qualified doctors to ensure that individuals were not wrongfully confined by their families.

In 1782 The Act for the Relief and Employment of the Poor (also known as Gilbert’s Act) allowed parishes to form themselves into groups for the purpose of building workhouses exclusively for those unable to work. No able-bodied people were to be admitted.  Although this was not a successful measure, being entirely optional with a poor take-up, it did acknowledge a real need for providing for the physically and mentally infirm.

As William Battie had demonstrated, real change lay as much in philosophical, ideological and humanitarian ideas as medical and legal ones.  The Quaker movement had a strong influence on this idealized way of treating mental illness, and this grew partly out of the death of Quaker Hannah Mills in 1790, less then a month after being admitted to the York Lunatic Asylum (opened 1777), suffering from melancholy.  She was one of some 300 inmates who died there in the 37 years between 1777 and 1814.  Her case came to the attention of the Quaker and wholesale tea trader William Tuke (1732-1822).  Horrified by the facts of the matter, decided to raise funds to build an asylum in which members of the Quaker community suffering from mental health problems could be treated in a new and civilized way.  The result was his own asylum called The Retreat, which opened in 1792. His approach, referred to as the “moral” treatment, was altogether more compassionate and empathetic, based on the belief that a positive physical and emotional environment and good food were key to mental recovery.   A nurturing and therapeutic approach to care was adopted.  Instead of being treated as sub-human or bestial, those who entered the asylum were encouraged to lead lives emulating social norms.  Restraint was only used when strictly necessary, and although patients were confined within an institution, the Retreat attempted to reproduced ordinary home living and encouraged socializing amongst patients to help patients to recover. William Tuke’s son also worked at the asylum, and his grandson Samuel Tuke (1784-1847), published a description of The Retreat in 1813, describing the philosophy and activities of the asylum.  This publication helped to inform other mental illness reformers.

Depiction of “The Retreat,” established by William Tuke in 1792, by George Isaac Sidebottom, a patient at the retreat in the late 19th century. Source: Wellcome Collection RET/2/1/7/5

Following the 1808 County Asylum’s Act known as “Wynn’s Act” after Charles Williams-Wynn, the politician who did much to promote it, Justices of the Peace were given the authority to build county asylums, and to raise finance to do so.  This was optional, not compulsory, and local councils were under no obligation to build asylums. Although some new asylums were subsequently built to enable paupers with mental illnesses to be removed from workhouses and placed in appropriate establishments these were slow to arrive.  Many who suffered with mental illnesses or learning difficulties continued to be taken into workhouses and prisons.  The treatment of the poor continued to be a story of failure to respond to a serious need, whilst the rich were still regularly deposited in private institutions of very variable quality.

York Lunatic Asylum. Source: Wikipedia

In the meantime, the York Lunatic Asylum, first under physician Alexander Hunter, and after his death in 1809 under his assistant Dr Charles Best, continued to take a custodial, punitive and disgustingly neglectful approach to its patients, a fact that Tuke and other York philanthropists attempted to address, partly by reporting cases to the media and partly by infiltrating the board of governors and using this to demand access to the asylum to inspect patient care, finding that although wealthy patients were usually well treated, pauper lunatics were kept in dreadful conditions.  Godfrey Higgins, one of a number of social agitators in York at the time, who had taken a particular interest in the treatment of the insane, used his influence to demand an inspection in March 1814.  When he found locked doors he insisted that they be opened, threatening to break them down himself.  Inside one room he found female patients in what he referred to as “a number of secret cells in a state of filth, horrible beyond description . . . the most miserable objects I ever beheld.”  In another part of the asylum he found “more than 100 poor creatures shut up together, unattended and unsuspected by anyone”.  The case went to court, and a new committee was appointed in 1814, but problems continued to be reported.

Bethlehem (Bethlem) Hospital by William Henry Toms for William Maitland’s History of London, published 1739. Source: Wikipedia

The dire conditions at Bethlem in Moorfields continued to be a disgrace to London.   Even though a decision had been made to replace the Moorfields building with a new one, south of the Thames at Southwark, matters might have gone on as before if not for Edward Wakefield, a Quaker, like the Tukes, an advocate of lunacy reform whose mother had been confined in an asylum.  He had visited the Moorfields site in 1814 and reported on the inhuman conditions that he witnessed there.  Wakefield’s insights were an important part of the Select Committee investigation of 1815, which reported on the appalling conditions that Wakefield had found.

A sample of Wakefield’s contribution to the 305-page report is as follows, which is by no means the most distressing: In the early 1800s it was determined that the Bethlem Lunatic Asylum building in London was no longer fit for purpose, and it was demolished, replaced by a new building in Southwark (which today houses the Imperial War Museum).

American sailor James (sometimes called William) Norris as found in Bethlem in 1815, where he had been detailed for over a decade. Source: Wikipedia

We first proceeded to visit the women’s galleries: one of the side rooms contained about ten patients, each chained by one arm or leg to the wall; the chain allowing them merely to stand up by the bench or form fixed to the wall, or to sit down on it. The nakedness of each patient was covered by a blanket-gown only; the blanket-gown is a blanket formed something like a dressing-gown, with nothing to fasten it with in front; this constitutes the whole covering; the feet even were naked. One female in this side room, thus chained, was an object remarkably striking; She mentioned her maiden and married names, and stated that she had !been a teacher of languages; the keepers described her as a very accomplished lady, mistress of many languages, and corroborated her account of herself. The Committee can hardly imagine a human being in a more degraded and brutalizing situation than that in which I found this female, who held a coherent conversation with us, and was of course fully sensible of the mental and bodily condition of those wretched
beings, who, equally without clothing, were closely chained to the same wall with herself
. . . .
In the men’s wing in the side room, six patients were chained close to the wall, five handcuffed; and one locked to the wall by the right arm as well as by the right leg; he was very noisy; all were naked, except as to the blanket-gown or a small rug on the shoulders, and without shoes; one complained much of the coldness of his feet; one of us felt them, they were very cold. The patients in this room, except the noisy one, and the poor lad with cold feet, who was lucid when we saw him, were dreadful idiots ; their nakedness and their mode of confinement, gave this room the complete appearance of a dog-kennel.
[First report from the Committee on the State of Madhouses, 1815, p.46]

 

The new Bethlem of 1815. Source: BBC Culture

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Wakefield himself was appointed as the new superintendent of the new Bethlem in Southwark and he introduced similar values as those employed by the Tukes at The Retreat.  The new Bethlem opened in 1815 with a wing for the criminally insane, the same year as the Select Committee report on the condition of lunatic asylums.
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Excerpt from Committee Appointed to Consider of Provision Being Made for the Better Regulation of Madhouses in England, Parliament, House of Commons 1815-16. First report from the Committee on the State of Madhouses. London.  Source: Wellcome Collection

The 1815 First report from the Committee on the State of Madhouses of the House of Commons Select Committees highlighted the lack of oversight of lunatics, and the dismal conditions in which patients that pertained in far too many asylums, workhouses and other institutions where lunatics and imbeciles were confined.

The report’s findings are elegantly phrased, but make it abundantly clear that asylums, amongst them some of the most successful institutions of the day violated basic human rights.  The conditions for paupers and even those of better social standing who lacked visitors to make complaints were frequently filthy places of restraint, beatings and both physical and mental cruelty, with overcrowding, freezing cold conditions, lack of sufficient attendants, and poor admission procedures.  Some of the accounts make for really harrowing reading.  The most truly depressing aspect of the report is that although the committee had made heartfelt recommendations for improvements, matters remained largely unchanged because these did not pass into law.

A page from Mitford’s “Crimes and Horrors in the Interior of Warburton’s Private Mad-House at Hoxton.” Source: Internet Archive

Unsurprisingly, matters had not much improved seven years later in 1822 when John Mitford published his eye-opening A Description of the Crimes and Horrors in the Interior of Warburton’s Private Madhouse at Hoxton.  Mitford’s assessment of Mr Warburton, unqualified and cruel, concludes that “[on] a careful exposure of this diabolical establishment, I doubt not all will agree with me in opinion, that these ‘lawless houses under the law’ should be done away with entirely, as a disgrace to human nature. The angel of death moves through them with secret and murderous strides.”  As with Edward Wakefield’s earlier expose of Bethlem in 1815, it is a truly shocking read.

It took another decade before another Select Committee was appointed in 1827, partly due to a scandal concerning conditions and illegal incarceration at Warburton’s Mad-house in Hoxton, and partly due to campaigning by both social reformers M.P. Lord Anthony Ashley (as from 1851 Lord Shaftesbury), and Dorset magistrate Robert Gordon.  This time the Committee’s reports were taken into account and two new acts were passed in 1828. The Act to Regulate the Care and Treatment of Insane Persons in England (also known as The Madhouse Act) appointed a new Commission in Lunacy to improve centralized control over asylums, not merely in London but throughout England and Wales in an attempt to provide consistent oversight.  The Act attempted to tighten up the certification required before a person, either private or pauper, could be admitted to a lunatic asylum, and the Commission was given much greater powers to act in respect of private asylums.  The admission of pauper lunatics now required certification by a Justice of the Peace as well as a physician.  The County Lunatic Asylums (England) Act again encouraged counties to build asylums from ratepayer contributions, and also required that county asylums should send detailed reports on an annual basis to the Home Office.  The Act was updated in 1832, again to attempt to improve the certification process and prevent illegal detainment, making false or inaccurate certification a misdemeanour.

Following the 1808 and 1828 Acts, several new county asylums had been built.  Early examples were Nottingham, Bedford, Norfolk, Staffordshire, Cornwall, Gloucester and Suffolk all before 1830.  It is at this point, to slot it into its chronological context, that the new Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was built, in 1829.

Please click here to go to Part 1.2, the second part of this background to the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum.  The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum itself is discussed in Part 2.
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The Tukes’ Retreat, a private asylum delivering “moral treatment” in York, which opened in 1792. Source: Wikipedia

 

Chester Lunatic Asylum 1831, a public asylum established for paupers, and a few private patients, which opened in 1829. Source: Wellcome Institute Library

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Overleigh Cemetery Self-Guided Geodiversity Tour

Many, many thanks to Paul Woods (Chester Green Badge Guide who leads the cemetery tour Stories in Stone) for sending me the scans of this leaflet by Cheshire RIGS and the Northwest Geodiversity Partnership, apparently published in 2012.  It looks at the most common types of stone used, gives some geological details about it, and discusses how some of it responds to environmental conditions.  I’ve shared the JPEGs below but I have also turned it into a PDF that you can download by clicking here.  I cannot wait to take it for a test drive!

Overleigh Cemetery, Chester #2 – The living, the dead and the visitor

In part 1 of this series on Overleigh Cemetery the economic background to Overleigh Old Cemetery was introduced briefly, and details of the reasons and execution of the foundation of Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries were discussed.  Here, in part 2, both Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries are explored in a little more depth.  There are a great many components that contribute to how a gravestone looks, what it says, and what it meant to the bereaved.  Between the sculptural forms, the symbols used on headstones and the inscriptions, as well as the design of the the cemetery itself and the ways in which it evolved and was used and perceived at different times in the past, Overleigh has a lot to contribute to how we think about Chester and its occupants.

Eliza Margaret Wall, died 1899, aged 30. Other family members were added in future years up to 1936

As a starting point, it is useful to look at who the main users of the cemetery were and are, both living and deceased, before moving on to a general guide to what to look out for if you are a visitor interested in learning about what the cemetery has to offer.

As in part 1, where I have included a photograph of a grave and there is information about it on the Find A Grave website, I have added a link.  For anyone using the database for their own investigations, note that Find A Grave treats Overleigh Old and New cemeteries as two different entities and you have to search under the correct one.

I have stuffed this full of photographs to help explain some of my points, so Part 2 looks bigger than it actually is.  You can click on any of the images to see a bigger version.

With many thanks again to Christine Kemp (Friends of Overleigh Cemetery) for her much-appreciated ongoing help.
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People

Graves represent people, the living and the dead, both entangled in the complexities of funerary rites.

The bereaved

A funeral at Overleigh Old Cemetery. Detail of 19th century engraving of Overleigh Cemetery. Source: Wikipedia

Although this post is about a burial ground and its graves, funerary traditions and practices are all as much, if not infinitely more, about the living.  The need to recognize and commemorate loss, not merely at the funeral but prior to it and after it are essential to people, even today when the traumas associated with death tend to be handled in more internalized ways than in the pre-war periods.

Gravestone of Geoffrey Mascie Taylor, died 1879. If anyone has any idea what the symbol represents at the top of the gravestone, please let me know.

During the Victorian period there was an elaborate process of marking a death, a tradition of precise convention and ritual, expressed both within the family and communally.  When someone dies the living are left behind to handle a loss as best they can, and cemeteries and memorials are only one one part of that process.   The end to end process from death to mourning is all a part of the Victorian experience of bereavement.  Visiting and tending the grave, bringing flowers for the deceased, was part of this process, in which women had a key role, and demonstrating bereavement in public essentially brought the grave into the domestic sphere.  Several of the books listed in the references, go into some detail about the Victorian expressions of mourning, and books by James Stevens Curl in 1972 and Judith Flanders in her recent overview provide great insights, but if you want a much shorter book with a still very comprehensive and well written overview, Helen Frisby’s Traditions of Death and Burial offers an excellent overview of Victorian and later bereavement ceremonies.

John Owens JP, died 1853, age 72.  “A Merciful Man Whose /
Righteousness Shall / Not Be Forgotten.” There are no additional inscriptions on this impressive headstone

In the Victorian period it has been argued that the lead-up to a funeral, the funeral itself and its aftermath were all components of an intention to promote social status, wealth and the knowledge of and participation in deeply embedded social conventions that specified in detail how death should be handled and how mourning should take place.  The Industrial Revolution had created a new type of middle class, many of whom were making livings based on manufacturing and commerce, as well as roles in the growing legal, medical, administrative, banking, and similar sectors. Even though there were more opportunities for social mobility, and the ability for individuals to define themselves in new terms, the aristocracy still provided a model for those with social ambitions.  Conspicuous displays of personal and family identity and wealth had become fundamentally important in this need to establish a dignified and self-important identity at a location between the upper and working classes. It was also important for the lower middle classes to distinguish themselves from those who were less financially robust, doing what was perceived as more menial work, defining themselves as socially distinct from the working class. Hierarchy, with all its subtleties during the Victorian period, was important, deeply-felt, and complex, and much of this is reflected in funerary rituals.

More recently it has also been recognized that elaborate Victorian and early Edwardian funerary ceremonies were not merely social devices but reflected the great trauma associated with loss in a world where medicine was in its infancy and where where the middle class was defining itself within often smaller families than previously.  Sickness and death could be both frequent by comparison to today, and was often profoundly distressing.  At the same time, sanitation and health were slowly improving in the second half of the century, meaning that once childbirth and infancy had been survived, people physically lasted longer than they had done in the past, building relationships but more frequently succumbing to old-age problems, becoming invalids who were cared for within the home.  National and community diseases were frequent, some of them long-lasting, and the role of women in nursing their relatives became increasingly important where professional standards of nursing were, just as much as the professionalization of medicine, in their earliest incarnation.  Middle class family ties, and the Victorian and Edwardian sense of moral responsibility to relatives, ensured that sickness was a very frequent component of family life.

TThe monumental grave shrine of Henry Raikes, died 1854, aged 72, Chancellor of the Chester Diocese and one of the founders of the Chester “Ragged Schools.” Overleigh Old Cemetery..

Relatively recent research has also suggested that working class people felt no less strongly about the loss of their partners, siblings and children.  Many working class families were crowded into insanitary areas all over in Britain, and notable areas have been identified in Chester, forcing people into much closer proximity, and this promoted the transmission of sickness and disease with a consequent cost in terms of poor health. Sickness was handled within families, which caused many problems in household management, where women frequently worked for a living, often in domestic capacities.  This resulted in the occasional recourse to a new breed of hospitals as well as a frequently dubious type of pre-professional paid nursing care. The ease of disease transmission meant that those living so close together and in such insanitary conditions were most at risk of epidemics, and the mortality rate was much higher than in middle class households. There were clubs into which people could pay a subscription to save up for funerals, just as there were clubs to save up for Christmas, and there are several pauper graves at Overleigh. But for some the costs were too high, so many graves were unmarked, and the grief of some families was never recorded meaning that these losses are not captured.

The monument for Joseph Randles, died 1917, aged 65-66. Note the partially veiled urn, which will be mentioned later.

It is easy to forget that until the NHS was established in 1948, most people still died at home rather than in hospitals, hospices or nursing homes, and that families housed the deceased, until burial, within their homes, and those deceased, laid out in front parlours in their coffins, were visited by friends and families.  The introduction of the funerary Chapel of Rest in the later Victorian period helped to reduce the time when the deceased remained in the house, but it was still a common part of a death that the dead remained amongst the living until the funeral well into the 20th century.

The focus on ceremony and ritual altered over time, with a considerable change of direction from the elaborate ceremonies of the Victorians to the minimalist approaches taken today. This does not mean a growth of indifference to death, but it does indicate changes within society. The beginnings of this are to be found in the Edwardian period, particularly during and after the First World War, when the nation’s horses that traditionally pulled hearses were required for the war effort. Funerals became even less demonstrative after World War 2.  This will be discussed a little more in Part 3.

On this Armstrong family cenotaph and headstone in the Overleigh New Cemetery, three sons predeceased their parents aged 32 in 1917, 22 in 1918, and 39 in 1927, the first two of them at war, all of which must have been a shocking loss.  Their parents are commemorated here too.

In the cemetery itself, the most obvious incorporation of gravestones into the world of the living is the highly visible custom of flowers and other gifts having been left in front of a headstone.  Fresh flowers in particular give the sense of a grave being regularly tended but artificial flowers and other items also serve to mark the continued attention to a grave by those who wish to indicate their recognition and care.  My father, who was born in 1936 and grew up on the Wirral, says that when he was a small boy he was taken regularly to the graves of his relatives in Liverpool, where there was a flower shop outside the gates, and flowers were purchased, a visit was made to family graves, and a picnic was enjoyed nearby.  It was a visit of celebration, continuity and memory, a positive occasion.

The other most obvious indication of a gravestone continuing to have a role is the presence of multiple inscriptions on many memorials, as individual family members are lost and the living are compelled to update the inscriptions.  Many of these gravestones capture this passage of time and accumulated loss very effectively, telling long narratives of family loss, sometimes covering several decades, and suggesting multi-generational involvement with funerary activities and commemoration, the sense of a continuum between the past, the present and the potential future.

The Deceased

The deceased may seem to be passive and inanimate, but they have voices in at least three ways.  First, they may have had input into their own graves, including its location, its design and its use as a single plot or a family plot.   In this sense they are very much agents of their own burials.  Second, the very process of memorialization, whether by family or friends, gives the departed an enduring presence that lasts into the modern world, a very material presence.  Some of those who died may also have obituaries to be found in newspaper archives, and accounts of inquests into their deaths, filling out a much richer picture of former lives, and those who were in positions of influence will have had much more information captured in official documents and even preserved journals.  In this way they can contribute very significantly to modern research projects, as much as that may have surprised them.  Third, they occupy the living landscape of cemeteries, spaces that occupy often new places in modern life and that are valued today.  At Overleigh I have seen people walking from one end to the other pause to read an inscription, and dog walkers wandering around, pausing to take note of a particular grave.  The dead area still amongst the living, even when they are not even slightly connected today with their ancestors.  Those who care for their graves, and tours that bring visitors, all do their essential bit to keep the deceased amongst the living.

Art Deco style headstone of Ralph Esplin, died 1935, aged 67

It has been the experience of cemeteries since the beginning of the 17th century in Britain that graves are tended for perhaps three generations after which they fall out of use, as families move away or simply move on.  Genealogy makes some of them  briefly relevant, but the funerary landscape is a strange mixture of the abandoned and the perpetuated.  Local authorities and Friends societies contribute to the task of caring for abandoned graves, but this is a very different relationship from those that are still visited by family members.  In Victorian cemeteries, there is always a rather strange dynamic between the historical sections and those that are still the essence of loss, bereavement and and ongoing engagement.

The deceased in the early periods of the cemetery capture something of Chester’s evolving social, economic and cultural endeavors, as it attempted to secure its future and create a stable and prosperous community.  Those who are represented in the cemetery are largely those who were either already successful in establishing themselves within this community or were making the attempt to improve themselves and gain status; the unmarked pauper and cholera graves are amongst the hidden histories of Overleigh and of Chester itself.  There is time-depth here too, as we can track changes from 1848, when the Old cemetery was established, through the Edwardian period and both World Wars, and the changes during the post-war period up until the present day.  I have been learning how much work it takes to see beyond the sea of graves and to read history captured in the cemetery landscape and monuments, and it is all there to be found, the world of the dead contributing to an understanding of the transforming past and how society’s views on death and commemoration changed.  Parts 3 and 4 will go into this in more detail.
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Visiting Overleigh for the first time – what to look out for

The central monument, in rose granite, is a truncated obelisk, indicating a life cut short and usually associated with the loss of younger people, although not invariably. In this case, Harry MacCabe who died aged 26.

I have started here with the most obvious way of getting to grips with a cemetery – how things look when you walk through for the first time.  This is about shapes, materials and the visual cues that you can pick up at first glance to give an indication of what the casual visitor may want to focus on during a first visit.

The majority of monuments at Overleigh are vertical, unlike the variety seen in local churchyards that include a variety of other horizontal and chest-type forms, as discussed in connection with the churchyard at Gresford, some 10 miles south of Chester.  The example below shows one of the  horizontal representations, which are less numerous, although of course by being less visible are more likely to be overlooked.

Although I discuss Overleigh as a site that helps us to connect with history, it is important to remember that both Old and New parts of Overleigh are still in use for new interments and cremation memorials, and that families and friends are still regular visitors to visit their departed and tend their plots.  All visits by those of us who are not connected with family or friends interred in the cemetery need to explore with respect and care for those other visitors who are at the cemetery for the purpose of connecting with the departed.

The horizontal gravestone of Major Richard Cecil Davies is one of the relatively few gravestones that are not vertical. Some, of course, have fallen over and are now just as horizontal as this one, but this was always intended to lie over the grave and face upwards.  These are always vulnerable to being taken over by grass and weeds, and need an eye kept on them.

Themes and symbols

Author James Curl (1975) found this advert in an 1860s guide to Highgate Cemetery in London, showing a range of grave monuments available for purchase. Most of these have equivalents at Overleigh.

How were headstones and monuments chosen?  From the 1830s onward stonemasons had catalogues from which headstones could be chosen, just as there are today.  Today there are also catalogues from which to choose, many of them online and offering a wide range of alternatives.  At the same time, some families might prefer a grave that is similar to that of other family members, and some might want to emulate styles admired in a local cemetery.  The imagery on the graves during the Victorian and Edwardian periods formed a rich language of meaning that is understood by all, including the illiterate.  Sometimes the imagery used on a gravestone may say as much if not more about the emotional relationship between the living and the deceased than the text inscription, including the hopes that the living had for their dearly departed.

Headstone of George Henry, with a lily, the symbol of mourning, purity and peace

When you are walking around, you will notice that certain themes are recurring in the designs of the gravestones in both halves of the cemetery.  These represent specific choices that people have made and the ideas that they wish to communicate.  These can either be sculptural memorials or more modest headstones that incorporate carved imagery.  Sometimes headstones just include text, and sometimes there is just a kerb with no headstone which usually lacks imagery, but the symbolic medium is often an important part of the message that a gravestone communicates, imparting a different type of information from the text, often rather more subtle and conceptual than what is written, sometimes capturing emotions and ideas rather more effectively than words.  There is a usually a minimalist formality in what is written, but this does not extend to imagery and symbols, which can be far more expressive.  The themes and symbols mentioned below are just examples that I have found in Overleigh Cemetery.

The memorial to Private Arthur Walton, died 1918 aged 27.

In the memorial to Private Arthur Walton shown left, the overall language of the iconography, seems to reflect the concepts of Christianity and the life of Jesus in response to the loss of a much-loved son in the First World War.  The crown can symbolize victory but is also the emblem of Jesus and Christian immortality. Beneath it, the Biblical quote “He died that we might live” refers to Jesus, but might also refer to the sacrifice of Arthur Walton himself.  The heart is a symbol of everlasting love of Christ and also of the charity espoused by St Paul, but also captures personal love. The grapes and vine-leaves are usually related to themes connected with Jesus including the blood of Christ, the Last Supper and the Holy Sacrament. Overall the iconography of the grave is probably one of personal sacrifice and its association with Christian values and the sacrifice of Christ himself, whilst at the same time demonstrating very deep personal loss.  As well as being very moving, this is a good example of how the imagery can contribute to the overall narrative of a headstone or memorial.

Hester Ann Clemence, died 1914, aged 62, with other members of the family commemorated on the pedestal  steps beneath the floral Celtic style cross. The steps often represent the steps representing Christ’s climb to Calvary.  All of the creativity and suggestion of emotion in the monument is in the design; the inscription is minimalist.  Although the encircled cross was originally associated with Irish graves, it became popular throughout Britain during the 19th century.

Of the overtly Christian-themed grave markers the dominant shapes are the crosses that re-appear for the first time since the Reformation during the 19th century, symbols both of Christ’s sacrifice and of resurrection, and proliferate at Overleigh, from the very simple to the seriously elaborate.  Crosses carved with decorated themes are widespread through the cemetery.  Although there had been very few crosses before the Victorian period, due to fear of association with papism.  A popular choice at Overleigh was the so-called Celtic cross, with Celtic-style designs covering the surface.  A popular variant has the top of the cross contained within a stone circle.  Although originally associated with Irish and Scottish graves, after 1890s in particular, when a Celtic cross was chosen by the celebrated art critic John Ruskin for his own memorial in Coniston, it became popular for burials of all religious persuasion.   A cross on a set of steps is often intended to represent the steps the Christ climbed to Calvary, but they might also simply be chosen for their monumental impact.  Flowers on a cross are indicative of immortality.  There are quite a few angels, messengers of God and the guardians of the dead who also transport the soul to heaven. The letters IHS often occur on graves in both urban and rural cemeteries and represent a Christogram, the three letters of the name of Jesus in Greek (iota, eta, sigma).

The truncated obelisk erected in memory of Francis Aylmer Frost. This photograph was taken by Christine Kemp when this area was not the overgrown jungle that it is now (you can see another photograph of this column, as it is today just below. Copyright Christine Kemp.

Many emblems are appropriated from earlier periods.  Pagan themes include the many Egyptian-style obelisks (more about which you can read on my post about the Barnston memorial in Farndon).  A splendid fluted truncated Doric column, a not uncommon cemetery icon but in this particular case perhaps a nod to Chester’s Roman past, is located just inside the River Lane gate to the Old Cemetery, its truncation indicating a life cut short, and generally indicating someone who died young, although in this case Francis Aylmer Frost was 68; another truncated column was dedicated to Harry MacCabe who was 26.  It is not the only one in the Old and New cemeteries, but it is by far the most impressive, shown at far left in the image below.  Its base is so badly overgrown with viciously thorny brambles that I couldn’t begin to find an engraving without losing half my hands and arms, and so remain ignorant as to who it commemorated.  I need some garden shears next time!

Truncated column; weeping woman; angel; Celtic crosses, temple-style gravestone. Click to enlarge

 

Floral themes on the grave of Thomas George Crocombe, died 1913 aged 20, the eldest of 9 children. Overleigh Old Cemetery.

Flowers are a popular carved theme on headstones.  Some have specific associations, such as the lily, standing for purity and a return to innocence; the rose, which indicates love (different coloured roses mean slightly different things), lilies of the valley, with connotations of innocence and renewal; daffodils that, flowering in spring, represent rebirth; and daisies, which symbolize innocence and were a popular choice for child graves.  A sprig of wheat often indicated someone who had lived to a good age.  Ivy, ironically, is representative of life everlasting and due to its enduring character. It is often show winding its way around cross headstones; today rampant ivy is one of the greatest causes of damage to graves in cemeteries and churchyards.  The most popular of birds shown on graves were doves, symbolizing either the Holy Spirit guiding the deceased to heaven, or general values of spirituality, hope and peace.  There are several at Overleigh.

Detail of the headstone of Harriett Garner and other family members with clasped hand motif. in this case it perhaps suggests father and daughter.  Harriett’s father, who gave evidence at the inquest into her suicide, was certainly very distressed by the loss of his daughter.  They are usually quite common in cemeteries, I have noticed only a few at Overleigh.

An urn is a very well represented motif, quite often topping a headstone as a sculptural component, and indicating the soul of the deceased; when draped with a veil they may indicate the soul departing or represent grief of mourners.  Angels are popular sculptural elements at Overleigh, indicating the soul of the deceased being accompanied to heaven.  Much less frequently shown than angels, but popular in many cemeteries, are images is that of a weeping woman, representing the loss of a person and the mourning of the bereaved.  Small statues of children often indicate the grave of a young child.  Clasped hands, common at some cemeteries but apparently not as well represented at Overleigh, indicate unity and may suggest the bonds of husband and wife, or of friendship or the hope to be reunited with loved ones; some have been carved to show the clothing and character of the hands as distinctly male or female.  An anchor may show that the deceased was professionally connected with the sea, but may also represent hope; a variation is the anchor with a woman, the embodiment of hope, although I have not seen an example of the latter at Overleigh.  Books may have many meanings – sometimes they are associated with the Bible of the clergy or the work of scholars, whilst others may mean knowledge or wisdom, or may simply represent chapters in life.

On the left, the headstone of Arthur Davies. The text wrapped around the anchor reads “Hope is the Anchor of the Soul.” The inscription contains other commemorations.  The headstone of Florence Taylor Battersby and other family members in the middle, topped with a dove.  The grave at far right shows the Christogram IHS, an abbreviation of the name of Jesus in Greek and Latin.  Click to enlarge

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The child grave of Violet Patterson, died 1929, as well as other members of her family, one of whom, Edward Andrew Patterson, who died and was cremated in 2007, is inscribed on one page of the book. This is one of the longer enduring of the graves at Overleigh, in use for 78 years.

A book included on a gravestone may indicate any of a number of ideas.  Prosaically, the grave’s owner might be  involved in the printing, publishing or book-selling trades.  Alternatively they might be a scholar or, if the book is intended to be a Bible, a cleric or someone particularly devout.  In cemeteries one side of an open book often has the name of the husband or wife, whilst the other side remains blank until the other partner has also died, when the blank page can be completed. Sometimes the blank page is left incomplete, possibly because the former partner has remarried or moved out of the area, or has left no provision for the disposal of his or her remains.

There are also more modern emblems and themes that people have incorporated into grave carvings. In the Overleigh New Cemetery in particular there are Art Deco, Arts and Crafts and Art Nouveau themes.  Although often contained within crosses, the Art Nouveau decorations seem otherwise celebratory of life.  The combination of Christian crosses with modern themes perhaps positions religion within a modern context where there is no need to refer back to much older historical values in order legitimize Christian beliefs.  One of them, dedicated to Anna Maria Meredith, has a Biblical quote on it (fourth from the left, a most unusual headstone, although there is a second example in the cemetery).  The memorial to Frederick Coplestone, third from left, shows St Francis of Assisi.  It will be discussed further in Part 4.

Click to enlarge

 

Memorial in the cremation Garden of Reflection showing a locomotive. Roy Douggie, died 2010 aged 77, and his wife Beryl, died 2016, aged 79. That sycamore is going to need weeding out if it is not going to do permanent damage!

As can be seen on more modern gravestones and memorials, most of which can be seen in the Garden of Reflection in Overleigh Old Cemetery and at the very far end of Overleigh New Cemetery and even more dramatically at the post-war cemetery at Blacon, gravestone types and materials have become standardized, and the rich visual language of symbols and icons employed became much less varied over time, and are now often eliminated entirely, although secular themes are sometimes chosen instead.  In modern cemeteries, regulations about the nature of grave markers limit potential for developing new monumental statements, but the decline in religious involvement in everyday life is also a part of this trend.  The language of religious imagery to convey complex values (semiotics) now takes a back seat, even where commemoration is required, with modern secular images often chosen instead of Christian ones.  There are exceptions, and Roman Catholic memorials can still be quite elaborate.  Today modern gravestones and memorials can be less about choosing the perfect message for eternity than creating an appropriate personal message and style for the here and now, which is an attractive feature of many modern memorials.
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There are many more symbols and themes on gravestones than those covered in my brief overview above, some quite common at cemeteries, some unique, and it is worth looking out for some interesting examples.
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Inscriptions

Alice Maud Gwynne, died 1921 at the age of 42 which bears the inscription “There’s no pain in the homeland,” the monument topped with an urn

Inscriptions can be presented using various different fonts, sizes and colours all on the same monument, which creates a sense of texture.  Inscriptions are often filled with colour to make the text stand out from the background stone and make it easier to read.  Lead lettering was occasionally inset into stone to achieve the same impact.  The different styles of text create a great deal of variety in the visual impact of the cemetery.

Headstones in Overleigh tend to be fairly minimalist in terms of the information they provide, many simply naming family members and providing a date of birth and death, perhaps a note about the role of the deceased, particularly where this was a high status position. Most contain some sort of affectionate phrase or such as “In loving memory of,” “in affectionate remembrance of,” “beloved wife,” “dear husband,” etc. Others may contain a little more information.  Some may state the town or village name of the village, or even the property, where the deceased was resident.

The commemoration to 9 year old Walter Crocombe, his mother Sarah, 68, her husband George, 88, and their 4 year old grandson Eric.

Multiple dedications following the initial interment help to give a sense of the family context of both the first and and subsequent family members, and the longer they were in use, the more resonance they had for the family as successive generations interacted with the monument not merely to a single person but to a family commitment and tradition.  The child grave of Violet Patterson, died 1929, includes dedications to other members of her family, and was in use for 78 years, with the latest  inscription dedicated to a family member who died and was cremated in 2007.

Only war graves tend to give details of how death happened, such as “killed in action” or “killed in flying accident,” although there are never any details.  A great many refer to the deceased having fallen asleep, a euphemism for having died that skirts around and sometimes deliberately disguises how the death occurred.  Occasionally a grave will refer to the suffering of an individual, although I have seen fewer at Overleigh than in churchyards.  The commemoration of Sarah Crocombe at Overleigh reads “Her pain was great / She murmured not / But hung on to / Our Saviour’s cross.”  The monument to Alice Maud Gwynne comments “There’s no pain in the homeland,” which implies that she may have experienced some suffering towards the end of her life.

The memorial to Josephine Enid Whitlow in Overleigh New Cemetery (thanks Chris!) who died in 1938.

For obvious reasons, child graves can be more expressive than others about personal feelings of grief and loss.  The grave of 2-3 year old Josephine Enid Whitlow in Overleigh New Cemetery, for example, shown towards the top of this post, has a statue of a small child labled “JOSIE” (Josephine Enid Whitlow) accompanied by the the inscription “Jesus Walked Down The Path One Day / And Glanced At Josie On His Way / Come With Me He Softly Said / And On His Bosom Laid Her Head.”  She died in an isolation hospital in 1938.  The grave of the Crocombe family shown above records the loss of 9 year old Walter: “Little Walter was our darling / Pride of all the hearts at home / But the breezes floating lightly / Came and whispered Walter come.”

A few graves have Latin inscriptions. Latin is often used on Roman Catholic graves, and the letters RIP often indicate a Catholic grave, standing for the words “requiescat in pace,” meaning “rest in peace”, part of a prayer for the dead.  A nice little gravestone commemorating Thomas Hutchins, near the entrance on Overleigh Road has the legend “stabat mater dolorosa” inscribed along the line of the arch, meaning “the sorrowful mother was standing,” a reference to the Virgin Mary’s vigil during the crucifixion.  It is one of a number that ask the reader to pray for the soul of the deceased.

The small, relatively isolated gravestone of Thomas Hutchins, died 1879, aged 39–40

Perhaps the most minimalist of all the inscriptions, in terms of information imparted, is this curious woodland-style headstone topped with a downward-facing dove, shown below: “With Sweet Thoughts of Phyllis from Mother and Father and Aubrey.”  Given the lack of any useful information it is not surprising that there is no information on the entry for it on the Find A Grave website, but the headstone has charm, and the lack of data is really intriguing, because this was not an inexpensive monument.  Chris tells me that her last name was Elias.  There must have been a story here, but how to find it would need some extensive research that would require access to the original stonemason’s records.

“With Sweet Thoughts of Phyllis from Mother and Father and Aubrey,” Overleigh New Cemetery

Although it might be expected that headstones would give a wealth of information, this is rarely the case at Overleigh, although names, dates of birth and death and place names are a good place to begin with additional research.

There are several books and websites that list some of the most common cemetery themes and symbols, which are very helpful for decoding some gravestones and memorials.
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Visually personalized headstones

Memorial to Richard Price, Dee salmon fisher, who died in 1960 aged 59. Overleigh Old Cemetery

Personally commissioned scenes, where they are shown, are very specific.  One of the most evocative is the gravestone that has a white marble section showing the Grosvenor Bridge, flanking trees on the river banks and a solitary, empty rowing boat moored in the middle of the river. It is dedicated to Richard Price, salmon fisherman, who died in 1960 aged 59.  Salmon fishing on the Dee has its own history, well worth exploring, and Richard Price was one of the last to make a living from it.  With Art Deco style wings either side, and an urn within the kerb, which could have been added at any time but appears to be in the same stone as the rest of the monument, it is an attractive and very personal dedication, becoming a little overgrown.  Richard’s wife Rose, who died in 1987 aged 81, is also commemorated on the stone.

One of the more startling graves when seen from a distance, but completely charming and evocative when seen up close, is the full-colour section of a headstone to Vincent John Hedley, with a scene showing a fly-fisherman in a river or estuary with a rural scene, a rustic bridge, flying geese, an evergreen woodland, a bare hillside and a sunset or sunrise. It seems probable that Vincent John Hedley was a keen fly fisherman.

Vincent John Hedley, died 1997, aged 70. Overleigh Old Cemetery

Small section of an elaborate grave to Annie Myfanwy Roberts, died 1986, aged 73-74, showing photographs of family members.

A very well-tended grave in Overleigh New Cemetery is extremely monumental in its scope and intention, and includes photographs of the deceased, far more elaborate than the Anglican tradition but in keeping with the idea of the personalized scenes above that include visual as well as textual references to the personal.  Whereas the two headstones above show evocative and nuanced scenes that suggest how lives were lived, the photographs of lost people show nothing of the lives that the people lived but are instant reminders of the faces of the departed, instantly emotive for the living, indicating a different way of thinking about and representing those who have been lost and are grieved for.

Materials

Although the most obvious thing about a grave is its shape, together with its ornamental elements, the choice of materials is also an essential part of the design of a monument, and helps to determine its appearance.  As Historic England pointed out in their report Paradise Preserved, “the rich variety of stone within cemeteries represents a valued resource for the understanding and appreciation of geology.”  The good news is that in 2012 Cheshire RIGS and the Northwest Geodiversity Partnership produced a five-page leaflet, Walking Through the Past: Overleigh Cemetery Geodiversity that describes some of the geological background to stone types used on gravestones at Overleigh Old Cemetery, which you can download as a PDF by clicking here.

Some of the many different stone types at Overleigh

Local red sandstone was a popular choice, the same material used to build Chester Cathedral.  Yellow sandstone, presumably much of which came from the Cefn quarries in northeast Wales, is finer-grained and often easier to sculpt, but is very vulnerable to pollution and, as a result, de-lamination.  Pale limestone and granite are available from British sources, and are scattered throughout the cemetery.  Limestone is a sedimentary stone like the sandstones, and relatively soft and easy to sculpt, whereas granite is an igneous rock, very hard and enduring, often with a very attractive flecked texture, but far more difficult to shape.  Imports from overseas include marble and various exotic granites, which are higher-status materials with smooth surfaces that lend themselves well to sculptural memorials.  Rose granite, so beloved of the ancient Egyptians, is well represented, usually polished to a high gloss.  The majority of modern headstones are in highly polished black granite.  Local schools would probably welcome a geology trail through the cemetery.

Cross made of a composite of two different materials, with pieces of stone inserted rather coarsely into what looks like concrete and was probably a low-cost solution to a burial memorial.

As the 19th century rolled into the 20th century and transportation costs declined, imported stones became more common, particularly marbles and coloured granites.  Closer to home,  reconstituted (powdered and reformed) stone became a lower cost alternative to real stone, a common type of which was called coade stone.  At first this resulted in an increased diversity of materials, forms and styles, but as the 20th century advanced, the whole business of burials became far more standardized.  This is not a reflection of falling standards, but it is an indication of cultural change in general, where Anglican Christianity in particular is of less importance in Britain and where society tends to internalize loss rather than expressing it.

The only grave marker that I have spotted so far that is neither stone nor pseudo-stone is a single metal cross in Overleigh New Cemetery, shown just below, although I am sure that there must be others.

Lead lettering on the fallen headstone of Harriet Benson, died 1909 aged 63

Some graves have inscriptions formed of lead letters, which makes them stand out to ensure that they are easy to read, but they have a very poor survival rate, with letters falling out, and only the pin-holes where they were affixed surviving.  This can be sufficient to work out the original inscription, but makes some of the the headstones look rather derelict.  In the example shown left, the lettering under the missing lead can still be made out, but this is rarely the case.

Combined, these different materials, with their very contrasting textures and colours, offer a far more diverse visual fare than the modern cemetery areas in both Overleigh and elsewhere, which are usually glossy black granite.  They help to contribute to the sense of individuality and personal expression in the cemetery.

Black-painted metal memorial to Frederick, aged 66-77, and Alice Wynne, John Meacock and Robert and Alice Taylor.

Memorabilia and gifts

Bird on a plinth at the foot of Harriett Garner‘s grave

A gravestone was a fixed point, although not invulnerable, whilst gift of flowers, immortelles and other objects are the ore transient but personal markers of ongoing memories or the establishment of new connections between people and graves.  As well as demonstrating a personal connection between the living and the dead, the offerings of all types help to keep the sense that the cemetery is still a place of relevance, where narratives continue to be written and rewritten, sometimes only in people’s individual minds, and sometimes shared amongst families and even amongst sections of specific communities.

In the next section, below, is a photograph of Mabel Francis Ireland-Blackburn, showing a three year old child lying in a bed.  It is surrounded by modern memorabilia, including flowers (fresh and everlasting) and a variety of toys and other items.

Although it does not attract the same devotion as Mabel, the grave of the suicide Harriett Garner features a charming little bird, probably a robin, on a thoughtful makeshift stand accompanying the grave.  It gives the grave a personal touch, something more intimate than the headstone itself, suggesting a sense of ongoing empathy and regret.

War grave of Marjorie Anne Tucker, Women’s Royal Air Force, died 1918 aged 32, with a textile  wreath placed by the members of Handbridge Women’s Institute

In the baby cemetery area and the cremation Garden of Reflection in Overleigh Old Cemetery and in the area of recent graves in Overleigh New Cemetery there are many graves with personal memorabilia and gifts from the living to the departed, and these speak to the realities of grief and the importance of reinforcing memory through small gifts and commemorations.

 

Examples that are cared for by today’s cemetery regulars

Not all graves are appreciated exclusively by their families and descendants.  Others have become interesting or even important to people who otherwise have no connections to the deceased. Some graves have attained something of a celebrity status, either because of their visual appeal or because of the reputation or story of their owners, and are particularly cared for by local people as well as by the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery.  These graves form a sense of how modern minds can connect on a personal and private level with graves with which they have no familial connection.

Grimsby News, September 11th 1908, reporting the coffin of William Biddulph Cross (The British Newspaper Archive)

The nicely shaped but otherwise unremarkable headstone of electrical engineer William Biddulph Cross, who died in 1908, conceals an amusing story of a coffin made entirely of matchboxes, thousands of them, by William himself over a ten year period, a fact mentioned on the gravestone: “WILLIAM BIDDULPH CROSS / Who Passed Away September 5th 1908 / Aged 85 Years / Known By His Galvanic Cures / And The Maker Of His Own Coffin.”  The “galvanic cures” refer to a somewhat scary electrical therapy device thought to be a cure-all for numerous ailments.  You can read more about the device and the theory behind it on the National Archives website. The coffin became something of a local tourist attraction in its own right before William was laid to rest, and was widely reported in newspapers all over Britain.  The newspaper paragraph to the right, for example, was reported in the Grimsby News.  It has been suggested that the electrical fittings were for lighting, but interment before death was a fear throughout the entire Victorian period, and there are some examples of coffins being fitted with devices to allow those who had been mistakenly certified dead to be given a means of raising the alarm, and perhaps this is an alternative explanation. The grave also commemorates six other members of the family who died between 1870 and 1904.  It is something of a puzzle to me as to why William BIddulph Cross was the first of these to be named but the last to die. 

Mabel Francis Ireland-Blackburn, died 1869. Overleigh Old Cemetery

A particularly notable example is “chewing-gum girl,” which is a rather frightful name for a clearly much-loved grave, explained in Part 4. The grave is a very good example of a modern phenomenon where people feel a strong connection to a grave in the past and demonstrate their sense of affinity and empathy by visiting the grave and leaving items to keep the deceased company.  The three year old girl, Mabel Francis Ireland-Blackburn, is represented in stone as a child lying in a bed, and is today surrounded by flowers (cut and artificial), small stone statuettes, toys, a teddy bear by her head, and other small gifts.  She died of whooping cough, but was reputed to have suffocated on chewing-gum, becoming a warning anecdote told by parents to their children, in the form of a poem, of the dangers of following in her footsteps.  Child grave memorials are discussed more in Part 4.  The visual impact of this grave, with the sleeping or dead girl lying in her small bed, propped up on a pillow, is clearly the impetus for the gifts, demonstrating the power of the sculptural funerary image, but also the connection that adults feel for deceased children.

Whilst some graves attract particular attention and are well cared for, The Friends of Overleigh Cemetery are trying to look after the cemetery as a whole, tackling individual problems as they identify them and attempting to rescue stones that can be freed from vegetation without doing them damage.


Cemeteries and the bereaved today

The only new interments in the Old Cemetery are baby burials, segregated with respect and sorrow in a separate garden of their own, or where rights are retained to be interred in a family plot.  The attractive cremation Garden of Reflection, with its hedges emulating ripples on the former lake, is also still in use, and it is possible that it will be extended.  Both are clearly distinguished from the majority of graves of the previous two centuries by virtue of the fresh flowers and other gifts that are regularly provided.  In the New Cemetery, the buildings are no longer in use for funerary activities, and the older part of the cemetery to a great extent resembles many parts of the Old Cemetery, but walk beyond these features and you will find yourself in a far more modern cemetery area, which is clearly frequently visited by family and friends.  This is the newer style lawn cemetery where a compromise has been sought between the needs of relatives and the problems of maintenance.  This will be discussed in Part 3.

Modern cemeteries issue rules and guidelines about the size and type of grave and grave marking permitted, in order to ensure that cemeteries are as easy to maintain as possible, whilst at the same time providing the bereaved with a place to visit and connect with their lost loved ones.  This is a very difficult balance to strike, and local authorities who find themselves with the costly task of maintaining old cemeteries as well as modern ones, have the unenviable task of finding cost-effective ways of caring for these important sites of both past and present commemoration and memorialization.  This is discussed further in Part 5.

 

Part 2 Final Thoughts

Yellow sandstone headstone of George Hamilton, son of Alexander and Mary, suffering from rather surrealistic de-lamination that looks like melting ice-cream, as well as a colonization of lichen. (Overleigh New Cemetery)

A graveyard is less about a place of the dead than a place of commemoration, the formation of individual, family and collective memories and the ongoing reinvention of ideas about how to deal with death. Those who have gone before us are still part of our lives, still form part of our physical landscape and can contribute to our inner ideas about mortality and the future. It is possible to get to know the dead than it is the living via their gravestones, their epitaphs and their stories.  Individually these are interesting but collectively they combine with other buildings and institutions to contribute to our understanding of the Victorian period and changing funerary traditions thereafter.  These changing fashions in funerary practice from the mid-19th century to the present day will be discussed in part 3.

Cemeteries have visitors who come to see particular graves, either due to regular tending of the grave and communion with the deceased, or to find a grave as part of genealogical research, or as for general or more formal interest into social history, art history and archaeological interest in death and memory.

Many of these graves, suffering from de-laminating or eroded inscriptions, and the invasion of ivy, as well as fallen headstones, highlight the importance not only of maintenance activities but of recording as many of the details on gravestones as possible in online, freely available databases.

Gothic style memorial to Thomas Ernest Hales, died 1906 aged 69. In the background are obelisks in rose granite, made popular when the antiquities of Egypt were first published

Cemeteries are fascinating places, and although modern sections are certainly rather understated and somber because of the signs of recent loss and sadness, older sections are very positive keepers of social history and human endeavor, reflecting choices and decisions by both the living and the deceased, in a wonderful arboretum of multiple tree species.  These grave monuments lend themselves to close inspection and appreciation not just of the materials, shapes and symbols, but of the stories that they capture about past lives and how we learn about a city’s past through both the material and conceptual cues that cemeteries retain.  The information on headstones can be a good place to start with an investigation in archives.  This type of information gives a sense both of the communal identity of a provincial town, and the individual identities that make up that community.  Of course, those who could not afford graves or were buried in communal graves that were the result of epidemics, are lost from this commemoration of the individual.

As before, my many thanks to Christine Kemp (Friends of Overleigh Cemetery) for all her practical help, her encyclopedic knowledge, and for checking over my facts.  Any/all mistakes are my own.  Do give me a yell if you find any.

I have quadruple-checked for typos etc, but some always get past me, for which my apologies.

References for all five parts are on a separate page on the blog here.

Overleigh Cemetery, Chester #1 – Introduction to its background and establishment

The Celtic cross style headstone of Robert Walter Russell (d.1909) and his wife Louisa Alma (d.1936) is on the left; the grave of Jane Whitley (d.1912), with its elaborate angel, topped with a cross and provided with a kerb and footstone (which is where the dedication is to be found), is on the right, erected by her husband Captain W.T Whitley, late Royal Artillery, who joined her there in 1936.

I have been to dozens of archaeological and historical burial sites, from prehistory onward, including famous monumental 19th century cemeteries in London, Paris and Havana, but the easiest by far to visit for someone based near Chester are local parish churchyards and the later dedicated Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries built during the Victorian period.  Ironically, I know much more about the burial traditions of ancient Egypt than I do about those on my own doorstep.  Up until now I have been repairing the gaps in my knowledge by visiting parish churchyards, but Overleigh Cemetery represents a different type of experience altogether, part graveyard and part public green space.  Overleigh reflects the growth of urban populations in towns and cities “which massed people on a hitherto unimaginable scale” (Julie Rugg, 2008) and put unmanageable pressure on urban parish churchyards.  It also demonstrates both a new idealism in the 19th century, the belief in the development of civic resources for the benefit of the general public, as well as the growing awareness of how disease was spread, the dangers of insanitary conditions, and the need for new approaches to public health.  The Victorian cemetery introduced into suburban environments the down-scaled aesthetics of 18th century estate parkland, often with their associated Classical architectural features, made popular by landscape designers like Capability Brown.  This touches on the complexities of the Victorian cemetery of which Overleigh was a smaller provincial form albeit clearly influenced by more elaborate examples.

Before I go any further, many thanks are due to Christine Kemp for her marvellous help when I started this mini-project.  It would have taken me at least twice as long without her, probably a lot longer, and I would have made errors that she has put right, so I am in her debt.  Chris has contributed 1000s of grave descriptions from this and other local cemeteries to findagrave.com, and is a founder member of the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery.

Where the findagrave.com website has an entry for a grave owner, I have added the hyperlink to the photographs used on this page for anyone who wants to read the inscriptions or find out more.

Overleigh Old Cemetery with its wonderful tree life, part cemetery and part arboretum

There will be five parts to this piece about Overleigh. Part 1 starts with a very brisk and short overview of Chester in the 19th Century and goes on to look at the establishment, in that context, of Overleigh Old Cemetery and Overleigh New Cemetery, followed by a short introduction to the objectives of research activities that can be carried out using cemetery material (discussed more in other parts) and some final comments.  At the end it also lists the sources for the entire five-part series, which will be added to as the series is posted.

  • Part 1:  Introduction to the background and the establishment of Overleigh Cemetery
  • Part 2:  The living, the dead and the visitor at Overleigh,
  • Part 3:  Shifting ideas – the move away from monumental cemeteries towards cremations and lawn cemeteries
  • Part 4:  The research potential of cemeteries; and Overleigh case studies
  • Part 5:  The Overleigh Old and New Cemetery today and in the future
    —-

Chester in the 19th century

Overleigh Old Cemetery opened in 1850, and the New Cemetery opened in 1879. To put this into some sort of context, here’s a very short gallop through Chester in the mid-19th century.

Chester Tramways Company Horsecar no.4 at Saltney. Source: Tramway Systems of the British Isles

Chester had been connected to the greater canal network in 1736, linking Chester with the Mersey, and was connected to the rail network by 1840, with today’s station opening in 1848.  The Grosvenor Bridge opened in 1832, taking the pressure off the Old Dee Bridge.  A horse-drawn tram was introduced in 1879 to link the railway station to Chester Castle and the racecourse.  This was replaced by an electric service in 1903 after Chester built an electricity plant in 1896, which also allowed the 1817 gas lighting to be replaced.  Improved communications brought more prosperity, and from the 1830s to the beginning of the 20th century, Chester had become an affluent town with a growing population.  To accommodate this rapidly growing population the city suburbs expanded to the south of the river, with Middle Class suburbs developing at Curzon Park and Queen’s Park, with  a new suspension bridge built  in 1852 (the current one replaced it in 1923) to connect the latter to the town.

Chester Town Hall of 1869. Photograph by Jeff Buck, CC BY-SA 2.0

Signs of prosperity were everywhere.  Commerce in the markets, shops and local trades thrived in the mid 19th century, and the sense of confidence and ambition was reflected in the expansion of the 18th century Bluecoat Hospital School, the building of the new Town Hall of 1869, the restoration of old buildings, and the establishment of new buildings, many in the style of earlier medieval half-timbering, as well as churches, including those for Dissenters.  With its extensive retail, its race course, its regatta and its medley of fascinating architecture, Chester was becoming a popular destination for visitors, and a series of hotels were built to support the growing tourist industry.

Although the Industrial Revolution did not revolutionize Chester in the same way that it did in other towns and cities, it left its mark, although in a rather piecemeal fashion.  As with most towns of the period it had light industry concentrated around the canal basin, as well as over the river in Saltney, and a declining shipbuilding industry.  Industries included new steam mills, a lead works, an anchor and chain works, three oil refineries and a chemical works amongst other enterprises.  Craft trades included tailoring, shoe-making, milliners, dressmaking, bookbinders, cabinet makers, jewelers and goldsmiths, amongst others.  In both town and suburban houses domestic service was an important source of employment for the less well off, as was gardening.  In line with the Victorian interest in civic works and promoting education and health, the Grosvenor Park opened in 1867 and the Grosvenor Museum in 1885.

Louise Rayner’s (1832–1924) painting of Eastgate Street and The Cross looking towards Watergate Street. Source: Wikipedia

Although the face of Chester seen by most people was a gracious attractive and prosperous one, there was also a lot of poverty. For those who were not quite on the breadline, but could not afford expensive accommodation a solution was provided by lodging houses of variable quality and pricing, which were growing in number to cater for both temporary visitors and more long-term residents.  Far more troubling, there were also slum areas known as “the courts,” which housed the city’s poor.  The St John’s parish became particularly notorious but these too were expanding, extending into the Boughton, Newtown and Hoole areas.  As agriculture made increasing use of labour-saving techniques, former agricultural labourers and their families moved to urban centres to find work.  At the same time, the appalling Irish Famine of 1845-52 drove starving people out of Ireland, and a large influx of impoverished Irish refugees, including entire families, expanded the poorest quarters of Chester and were a source of considerable concern to the authorities.  Although charity and church schools took in some of the poorer children, the most impoverished and vulnerable, sometimes the children of criminals and certainly in danger of becoming criminals themselves, were not at first provided for but the problem was acknowledged and three free schools for impoverished children known as “ragged schools” were built, of which more in Part 4.

According to John Herson there was an economic decline after 1870, during which population numbers fell, and Chester became more focused on its retail and service industries and the development of its tourism.  I recommend his chapter in Roger Swift’s Victorian Chester for more information about his discussion of the three phases of Chester’s Victorian past (see Sources at the end).


A solution to overflowing churchyards

Population in Chester and suburbs by year in 19th Century Chester. Source of data: John Herson 1996, Table 1.1, p.14

Polymath and diarist John Evelyn and architect Christopher Wren had both proposed out-of-town cemeteries in the 17th century, but their suggestions had fallen on deaf ears.  An exception was the famous Dissenter cemetery at Bunhill Fields, established from a sense of spiritual necessity.

The rising population that lead the living to move to new areas around Chester, was also a problem for churchyards.   The condition of Chester’s city churchyards was very poor, in common with other cities and towns throughout the country, and as the population expanded the situation in churchyards became somewhat desperate, and the new cemeteries were a necessity.  John Herson’s chapter in Roger Swift’s Victorian England provides a table of population figures for Chester and its suburbs from 1821 to 1911, and this shows that the population was rising rapidly.  Rising populations and the concentration of people in towns had lead to parish church cemeteries becoming problematic all over Britain.  This was infinitely worse in big-city urban environments where manufacturing industries had become major employers, where the lack of churchyard capacity led to some truly dreadful, squalid scenes representing appalling health risks, but even in a county town like Chester the problem was very real and churchyards there too were struggling to meet demand.

George Alfred Walker’s “Gatherings from Graveyards

Complaints were growing about the unsanitary condition of full intramural graveyards, and the risks that this represented.  Typhoid, typhus, scarlet fever, tuberculosis, measles, influenza and cholera, were all infectious diseases that were common in Victorian England, and the establishment of new graveyards for minimizing risk was becoming increasingly important as the links between health and sanitation were established.  Jacqueline Perry says that between 1841 and 1847 the annual average was 700 burials in Chester alone.

Those arguing for a new cemetery in Chester as a response to this problem were able to point to other specialized graveyards in Britain and overseas.  Bigger city cemeteries had been established earlier in the 19th century in Paris (in 1804 Père La Chaise was the first municipal cemetery in western Europe), Liverpool (Liverpool Low Hill opened in 1825 and St James’s Cemetery opened in 1829). In 1830 George Carden, after years of campaigning, organized a meeting to discuss how to improve the burial situation in London and Kensal Green opened in 1833, which initiated “The Magnificent Seven” ring of London cemeteries. Glasgow’s remarkable Necropolis followed in 1833.

In 1839 surgeon George Alfred Walker published his Gatherings from Graveyards (including the subtitle And a detail of dangerous and fatal results produced by the unwise and revolting custom of inhuming the dead in midst of the living), which drew uncompromising attention to some of the horrors of churchyards, encouraging burial reform and the wider adoption of the out-of-town cemetery.  I have provided a link to an online copy of this book in the Sources, but it is absolutely not for the faint-hearted. Although this trend was challenged by the Church of England, which derived an income from burial fees, the need was acute, and parish churches were compensated for their loss of income.  Most of these new cemeteries were commercial, charging for burials and paying dividends to investors from their profits.

Mourning clothes were a major investment in the Victorian funeral ceremonies. Source: Wikipedia

There was also clearly a psychological need for new cemeteries with neatly defined and delineated plots for individuals and families, and the space to commemorate and mourn loved ones.  As James Stevens Curl explains:  “It could never be said that the Victorians buried their dead without ceremony.  Apart from the immediate family, all the distant relatives would be present . . . Friends, business associated, acquaintances would all appear . . . A dozen or sometimes more coaches therefore followed the hearse.”  The acts of observance and the rituals associated with death in the Victorian period, and the traditions associated with the bereavement that followed interment were elaborate, encoded and important to Victorian religious beliefs and social conventions.  These beliefs and conventions were part of a deeply felt attitude to death and how it should be handled.  They were also opportunities to display wealth and status for those who had it.  The new landscape-style cemeteries offered the opportunity to carry out these various rituals at each stage of bereavement after loss with dignity and ceremony.

Following the new cemeteries and the success of the concept, cemetery design became a recognized field of endeavor for landscape designers and architects, and the best known cemetery designer, although by no means the first or even the best, was probably John Claudius Loudon, who consulted on a number of projects before publishing his 1843 On the Laying Out, Planting and Managing of Cemeteries, which became an important source of practical advice and creative ideas for many private enterprises. Loudon’s intentions are captured in these two statements from the beginning of his book:

Cemetery design for a hilly location by Thomas Loudon, 1834, showing a similarly sinuous arrangement as Overleigh, but with the building centred at the heart of the cemetery. Source: Loudon 1843

The main object of a burial-ground is, the disposal of the remains of the dead in such a manner as that their decomposition, and return to the earth from which they sprung, shall not prove injurious to the living; either by affecting their health, or shocking their feelings, opinions, or prejudices.

A secondary object is, or ought to be, the improvement of the moral sentiments and general taste of all classes, and more especially of the great masses of society.

The means by which Loudon proposed to address his “secondary object” was by introducing a sense of serenity, providing fresh air and a sense of nature, and encouraging contemplation.  At the time disease was thought to be conveyed by “miasmas” or vapours, not entirely unsurprising given how bad cesspits, uncovered drains and overfilled graveyards smelled, and trees were thought to assist with the absorption of miasmas, helping to promote good health and prevent the spread of disease.  Often his designs were based on a grid, like the 1879 Overleigh New Cemetery, but his above design for cemeteries on hills and slopes, like the Overleigh Old Cemetery was more forgiving.

Sculptural monument on a plinth dedicated to land agent and surveyor Henry Shaw Whalley, d.1904

After the 1850s commercial cemeteries were not the standard way of establishing new cemeteries.  The Metropolitan Interments Act allowed for burial grounds to be purchased by a civic authorities, which was itself replaced by a new Act of Parliament in 1852 when Burial Boards were established, after which publicly funded cemeteries became the norm.

One of the results of the new cemeteries, with individual plots dedicated to single individuals or to families, was that graves became part of the domestic sphere of families, part of their personal real estate.  In an elaborate cemetery this might include personal family mausolea and vaults, but at a more modest provincial cemetery like Overleigh, it usually consisted of a sculptural element or a headstone with a kerb and sometimes a footstone, although at Overleigh footstones are unusual (all the elements are in the grave shown at the top of the page, on the right).  This created a clearly defined space in which family and friends could commemorate their dead with gifts of flowers and sometimes additional memorabilia.  The main sculpture or headstone, usually of stone but occasionally of metal, was itself a medium for expression, combining shapes, symbolic and sentimental imagery, and text to express ideas about both the dead and their relationship to the living.  The kerbs were usually visited and the dead were gifted fresh flowers or immortelles (more permanent artificial flowers presented in suitable vessels or frames, sometimes under a glass dome).

Overleigh Old Cemetery

Grosvenor Bridge entrance to Overleigh Old Cemetery

Overleigh Old Cemetery, very convenient for Chester residents without intruding on the town itself, lies just across the Grosvenor Bridge, its northern border running along the south bank of the river Dee.  It has gateways from the Grosvenor Bridge, Overleigh Road and River Lane which converge on the monument of, cenotaph to William Makepeace Thackeray, a Chester doctor and benefactor.  Although this is the oldest of the two halves of the cemetery, it is still in use today for new cremation memorials in its maze-like hedged memorial area (actually designed to look like ripples on the lake that once occupied the space), as well as an enclosed area for interments and cremated ashes of babies, which is inevitably particularly sorrowful.  Overleigh Old Cemetery is often used as a short-cut from the Grosvenor Bridge to the walkway along the Dee, and presumably as its designer Thomas Penson originally intended, always has the feeling of a public park as much as a cemetery, although up until late August 2024, there has been nowhere to sit.  A bench supplied by the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery has helped to bring the cemetery further into the public domain.

First page of the The Chester Cemetery Act in 1848

The cemetery was established by The Chester Cemetery Act in 1848.  Chester’s City Surveyor, Mr Whally had held a public inquiry at the Town Hall to discuss the urgent need of a new extramural cemetery.  Overleigh was established by a private company named the Chester General Cemetery Company, which was formed by an Act of Parliament on 22nd July 1848. According to Historic England, the cemetery site was owned by the Marquis of Westminster who exchanged it for a shareholding in the company.  The cost of the cemetery was estimated at £5000 but the company blew its budget and in 1849 work was forced to stop for seven months until new shareholders could be found.  The thinking behind it was, much like the Grosvenor Park and the museum, as much a matter of civic pride as it was a practicality.  However, unlike the park or the museum, the cemetery was intended to turn a profit, and was essentially a retail operation, selling or renting burial plots, paying for its own maintenance and offering a return on shareholder investment, and providing a valuable service to residents at the same time.

Crypt Chambers, Eastgate Street. Source: Wikipedia

Overleigh Old Cemetery was designed by Thomas Mainwaring Penson (1818–1864), the surveyor and architect responsible for, amongst other Chester buildings, the 1858 Crypt Chambers and the 1868 Grosvenor Hotel, both on Eastgate Street.  The original layout of Overleigh Old Cemetery is preserved in an engraving from sometime after it opened, shown below, probably in the later 1850s.

Following the model already established in Paris, Belfast, Glasgow, Liverpool and London, this was a garden- or landscape-type cemetery, planned to emulate a large garden or small park.  When compared with some of the vast architectural entrances to the great Victorian cemeteries of Liverpool, Glasgow, London and elsewhere (see, for example, Kensal Green or, in a different style, the Glasgow Necropolis) the gates at Overleigh are a mere nod to a transitional zone between the busy outside world and the quiet necropolis within, with modest pillars and iron gates, shown above.  The buildings that were once just inside each gate, the entrance lodges, will have given more of sense of entry and exit than the entrances retain today.  Something of that effect can be seen over the road at Overleigh New Cemetery where the lodge building survives.  The funeral cortege would stop here to be formally received and recorded before proceeding to the burial site.

Overleigh Cemetery. Source: Wikipedia

The cemetery was landscaped with sinuous wide driveways winding down the hill towards a lake, laid out over an area of some 12 acres.  In the engraving to the right there are six buildings, none of which survive today.  I have no information about why they were taken down, but assume that they had fallen out of use and were becoming a problem to maintain.  Two of them are lodges at the Grosvenor Bridge and River Lane gates of the cemetery, used by cemetery superintendents and officials, and housing cemetery records. One of the lodges was apparently removed in 1967.  Chris has a plan of the cemetery dating to 1875 that identifies the church-like buildings at the top and the one by the lake as mortuary chapels (the one by the lake was for Dissenters), whilst the building behind the temple-style monument to Robert Turner was the Chaplain’s house.  It may have had rather good views over the bridge and the river.  The tiny building at centre left was probably a grounds-man’s hut, used for storing tools.

The headstone of Harriett Garner (d.1905) and other family members.  Harriett was a suicide, but because the inquest found her to be temporarily insane, and therefore innocent of crime, she was allowed to be buried in a consecrated grave

The 1847 Cemeteries Clause Act (section 36) stated that a new cemetery contain both consecrated and unconsecrated land and there were usually two chapels, one Anglican and one for Dissenters.  The provision for non-Anglican graves had become particularly important because of the Nonconformist movement, which had grown from strength to strength.  Non-denominational chapels of rest, where the deceased could be laid before interment, were a characteristic feature of the new cemeteries.  The idea of including unconsecrated land was to ensure that a cemetery should exclude no-one, including suicides who were declared sane at the time of their deaths (those judged to be insane when they committed suicide were considered to be innocent), unbaptized children and those of non-Anglican religions.  Chris showed me where, indicated by marker stones, there is a section for Roman Catholics and another for Dissenters, whilst pauper graves, some of which surprisingly have headstones, are dotted throughout the cemetery.  For those short of funds, there were burial club schemes, a little like life assurance today, where people could pay in a regular amount to save up for a proper ceremony and gravestone.

Plantings to give the garden cemetery its Arcadian feel included both deciduous and evergreen trees.  The use of deciduous trees was counter to Loudon’s advice, as in his view they grew too fast, became too big, dropped leaves that had to be cleared up, and looked ugly with bare branches in the winter, but at Overleigh the combination provides a marvelous mixture of colours, textures and shapes for most of the year.  The trees are worth a study in their own right, including some very unusual specimen varieties.  The now truly massive and splendid redwoods and traditional yew trees, both of them evergreen and long-lasting, often represent the hope for eternal life, and the sheer variety of specimen deciduous trees is remarkable and if anyone out there happens to be a tree expert and would like to help me out with some identifications, I would be grateful!

The William Thackeray cenotaph that sits at the conjunction of the cemetery drives. A huge beech tree stands behind it, and in front of it is a big horse chestnut; the trees in Overleigh are one of its most appealing features

The lake was eventually filled in, a very nice feature but presumably something of a problem to maintain and probably a risk to children and of course was using up land that could be used for more graves.  Partially in its place is a cremation area made of concentric hedging to emulate the ripples on the former lake.  The cremation memorial will be discussed in part 3.  The rustic bridge to the right of the lake on the engraving remains in situ, although the land either side of it is being used as a dumping ground for clearance works, which will eventually biodegrade and build up the soil level around the arch bases, which is a real shame.

The William Thackeray monument, at the confluence of the Old Cemetery drives has already been mentioned, but in the engraving above, the tall, slender temple-style monument shown at top right of the image, which commemorated brewer and wine merchant Robert Turner, who was Sheriff of Chester in 1848. The plinth now sits directly over the base,  with the fallen pillars at its side.  The engravings are on the floor of the base, which would once have been visible by walking into the monument and looking down, one for Robert Turner and one for his wife, which are shown on the findagrave.com website (by Chris Kemp). There’s a certain amount of irony in its demise, as over the course of the Victorian period the brewery industry also went into a state of terminal decline.  Work was done by Blackwells Stonecraft to prevent it sliding down the slope in 2022.

Robert Turner’s grave (d.1852) as it now appears in the oldest part of Overleigh Old Cemetery. Christine Kemp has posted a fascinating photograph of it under repair in 2022 on the findagrave website at https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/195750339/robert_hugh-turner/photo#view-photo=247132692

The pillars at the base of the monument, which once formed the temple

Overleigh New Cemetery

Overleigh New Cemetery, with the Greek Orthodox church, formerly a cemetery chapel, in the background

Overleigh New Cemetery, established in 1879, lies to the south of the Old Cemetery, with the Duke’s Drive running along its southern boundary, accessible via its entrance on Overleigh Road, opposite the entrance to the Old Cemetery, which gives some sense of continuity, and this too is still in use.  Overleigh New Cemetery, established in 1879, is a more obviously lower budget incarnation, all on the flat, its driveways laid out on a grid that divides the cemetery into raised rectangles.  Loudon’s book had layouts very like this in his 1843 book, although they weren’t amongst his more imaginative designs.  They did, however, have the essential idea that Loudon proposed of trees and shrubs to create a healthy and contemplative experience, and these are largely missing from Overleigh New Cemetery, except around the very edges.  By virtue of the fact that it does not serve as a route to anywhere else, and is essentially a cul-de-sac, it is more peaceful than the Old Cemetery but has less of a feeling of community.

*****

The section of Overleigh New Cemetery dedicated to the Commonwealth War Grave commission memorials

There is a small and beautifully maintained section dedicated to Commonwealth War Grave Commission graves, and managed by the Commonwealth War Grave Commission itself, is an important reminder of the sacrifices that were made, although graves dedicated to those who lost their lives in combat are also dotted through both the Old and New cemeteries.  These are planted with evergreen and flowering shrubs, and carry just the right balance of dignity, solemnity and floral tribute.  It was decided, when they were originally designed that there should be no distinction between graves of different rank so the headstones are all made according to a standardized template, differentiated by the regimental crest and or badge, the ranks and of course the names of the deceased.

One of the chapels in Overleigh New Cemetery, a Designated Heritage Asset in the Cheshire West and Cheshire “Chester Characterisation Study”

There are four buildings in the New Overleigh Cemetery.  The largest is the West Chapel, now Saint Barbara’s Orthodox Church. Historic England states that it was built in the style of John Douglas in the early 20th Century.  Chester Council made it available to the Greek Orthodox church in the 1980s and it opened its doors to congregations in 1987.  It attracts a congregation from a very wide area and prevents the site feeling entirely field-like.  Also assisting in this sense of place rather than space is a lodge that sits near the Overleigh Road entrance but is now apparently used as a private residence.  The small chapel, now used as a base for cemetery workers, is a lovely little thing with a few nice decorative features inside and out and some understated stained glass consisting of small square panels in quiet colours.  It was nicely thought through when it was built, and is now a Designated Heritage Asset.

The other building, recently fenced off presumably due to the sorry state of repair, making it look like a complete eyesore, is the former grave-digger’s hut, a charming brick-built building, described as “an important historical feature” in the Handbridge Neighbourhood Plan. It is clearly in urgent need of help.

The grave-diggers’ hut, fenced off.

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Headstone of Frederick Coplestone, d.1932 and members of his family by sculptor Eric Gill, showing St Francis of Assisi (Grade 2* listed)

When you first enter the New Cemetery, the initial impression given by the repeated lines of headstones is that the cemetery is less obviously interesting than the variety of shapes and sizes over the road.  This is, however, partly an illusion caused by the grid-like horizontal layout.  Closer inspection of the older sections, nearest to Overleigh Road, demonstrates that these too offer an enormous amount of variety that provides insights into personal preferences and choices, and certain very specific affiliations.  The graves here, many of them more recent than those at the Old Cemetery, offer a rather different sense of style and character, of different experiments with more personalized design and symbol as new trends emerged.  There are, for example, some interesting Art Nouveau and Art Deco examples that I have not noticed in the Old Cemetery.—-

As you head to the extremities furthest from the road, you will see less of these mainly earlier 20th century monuments and find yourself confronted with the more modern emblems of British commemoration of the dead.  These are generally smaller and plainer, often with flowers or other memorabilia, and reflect a changing attitude to memorializing the dead.  The further on you go, the more you find yourself in the sort of “lawn cemetery” concept that is becoming increasingly popular for public cemeteries, with small memorials.  Although this is much less aesthetically engaging than the older cemeteries, it does reflect an interesting change in mortuary practices that will be discussed further in parts 4 and 5.

Looking towards the far end of Overleigh New Cemetery, where new graves are still added

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Family Research

Overleigh Old Cemetery

It does not take a great deal of imagination to see that a cemetery like Overleigh contains an enormous amount of information about people who have lived and died in and near Chester.  Most of this information comes from words on gravestones, although some general comments can be made about the imagery employed and the design of the grave monuments themselves.  There is as much fashion as there is tradition, all mingled together.  Classical elements, Gothic Revival, Art Deco, Art Nouveau are all here, and in Overleigh New Cemetery the differences between Anglican and Roman Catholic graves are often particularly striking.  One way of learning more about the cemetery as a whole is by taking the Stories in Stone walking tour with one of Chester’s excellent Green Badge Guides, which takes visitors on a tour of the main features and some particularly interesting graves.

Grave of William Pinches (d.1929), Overleigh New Cemetery

The most common motivation for conducting research at cemeteries is to find the grave of an ancestor or loved one, whilst others find real interest in the individual stories told by gravestones via design, symbol and inscription.  Although Overleigh is so large that it may all seem like a challenge to make sense of it all, if you know the name of the grave’s owner, the findagrave.com website is an excellent database containing details of the grave and its owner, where known, together with any interesting stories that might be connected with either the grave or the owner.  Chris Kemp alone has been responsible for researching and adding literally thousands of graves in Overleigh and elsewhere in the Chester area since she began to record them over 12 years ago.  There are other online databases that do something similar, but findagrave.com is probably the most accessible resource for Overleigh.  Note that findagrave.com divides the cemetery into the Old Cemetery and the New Cemetery for search purposes.  Chris points out that until 1879 when the Overleigh New Cemetery was built, the Overleigh Old Cemetery was at that time known and referred to in documents as the “new cemetery.”

The Cheshire Archives and Local Studies service has some excellent online resources, and as well as their Overleigh Cemetery 1850-1950 database (it’s not the most user-friendly interface, so do watch the video about how to use it here), there are many other sources of local information about individuals, institutions and business in their online Archive Collections, including parish records, the electoral register, business directories, court sessions and poor law and workhouse records.

Amongst many other activities, Chris Kemp receives emails from people looking for graves from outside the area, and sometimes overseas, and tracks down the graves for them, a valuable and time-consuming task, as she receives at least half a dozen every week, which she hunts down every Saturday, and which demonstrate how much the cemetery, on both sides of the road, continues to contribute to people’s investigations of their past and their sense of a link with their family history.
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Part 1 Final Comments

Many of the first out-of-town cemeteries were conceived of as memorial parklands that were designed to balance the natural and the man-made, to harmonize different needs and priorities.  Although at Overleigh each of the two halves of the cemetery has a different personality, both combine monument and commemoration within a designed space where the dead and the living can peacefully coexist.  The graves themselves, some of them impressive, others very modest, never reach the heady heights of London’s “Magnificent Seven” with their extravagant mausolea and world-famous names, but in the details, the variations and subtleties, and of course in the engravings, there is a very real sense for visitors of mingling with the lives of Chester residents and getting to know something about the population at large.

Detail from the headstone of Margaret Roberts (d.1900), Overleigh Old Cemetery

The gravestone is, just as much as items given pride of place in the home and passed between generations, both an object and a commodity.  It was manufactured, chosen, customized, purchased and curated.  Even within its own funerary landscape, the funerary monument had a role within the home, in that it formed part of a personal experience of the world, a form of mental mapping that includes places beyond the front door but are endowed with a personal value.  They become part of a much wider family and social landscape than their physical location in a cemetery.  This means that there is a social and cultural history component to be researched in large cemeteries that offers a different type of record from documentary resources.  I will talk more about the role of cemetery research in social and cultural history in Part 4.

Overleigh Old Cemetery

Overleigh is a place where relatives can visit their loved ones or carry out genealogical research into their ancestors and where social history can be investigated.  At the same time it needs to be respected and to be recognized as a vulnerable piece of local heritage.  One of the most important questions about any monument or object is what happens when it is no longer valuable to someone, when the useful life for which it was intended comes to an end.  At this point, so many bad decisions have been made in Britain about the value of buildings and objects to social and cultural history, and there is a need to ensure that cemeteries like Overleigh continue to both support and inform the living.  This will be discussed further in part 5.

Part 2, only part-written at the moment, will look at how the living and the deceased are both incorporated into a common language of the necropolis, and how gravestones are used to express complex ideas about the dead.
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With sincere thanks again to Christine Kemp for giving me a guided tour of both parts of Overleigh Cemetery at the beginning of August 2024, and then guiding me to find specific graves and helping me to understand different aspects of the cemeteries when I met her again at the end of August, and for offering ongoing help.  In this and the following parts, she has been a splendid source of information, fact-checking and guidance.  Any errors are, of course, all my own work!

Sources:

Charles Edward Armitage, d.1930, Overleigh New Cemetery

The books and papers and websites used in all the parts are listed in their own page.  Splitting them up over the various parts does not make much sense because so many of them are used time and time again and listing the sources in one place makes it easier for anyone wanting to print off the full list.

The list of references for this post has become ridiculously long, so instead of listing them here on the page I have copied them onto their own page on the blog at
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/walking/overleigh/

 

The rustic bridge that was part of the original Penson design