Taken too soon: the last wishes of a young woman

Volunteer Liz Newman shares the tragic tale of a young woman’s final wishes.

Liz says: One of the reasons why I have enjoyed working on the records of the Consistory Court of the Bishop of Lichfield (the Bawdy Courts project) in the last few years is that they provide a glimpse into the lives and sayings of ordinary people, which are not often the focus of academic history. Here is an instance from a case which came to the court in 1647 where we hear the words spoken by a dying woman. It concerned a dispute over the nuncupative (i.e. verbal) will of Joyce Lakin of Tamworth which she made as she lay dying in her mother’s house. Below is an image of the note of Joyce’s will as recorded by the court official:

The Will of Joyce Lakin, Document reference B/C/5/1647/4

As she lay on her deathbed witnesses reported that she said: ‘Mother I have little of my own to dispose of, but that which I have I surely give unto you, and do entreat you good Mother to Remember Mr Coleman my dear friend who hath loved me a long time, further saying forget him not I pray you for he is my husband.’

Reading this I wondered who Mr Coleman was, and why was she called Joyce Lakin if he was her husband? The answer came in the deposition of her friend, Christiana Smith, who said that Joyce had actually said that Mr Coleman was her husband before God, and that they had been due to be married the week after she died. Joyce Lakin was buried in the churchyard of St Editha Tamworth in 1646. The case had been brought by Joyce’s nephew, who claimed the estate, against Joyce’s mother – Joyce had an outstanding legacy of £60 under her father’s will so had rather more than she mentioned. The court found in favour of Joyce’s mother, and the depositions in the file make it quite clear that this was Joyce’s dying wish.

That stills leaves us with an unanswered question. Did Joyce’s mother give any of Joyce’s estate to her intended husband, Mr Coleman, who she would have married only a week after her death?

St Editha’s Church, where Joyce Lakin is buried. FP81.89.66 (37/6352)

Dangerous Work

A few weeks ago, our volunteer Liz looked at how much information can be gleaned from just one fragment of a case. This week we look at a later case which includes a short citation with intimation, we don’t have much to look at, but it does give us an insight into the perils of working life during the Industrial Revolution. The case is much later than our usual Bawdy Courts cases; by the 19^th century the Consistory Court had less of a moral impetus and was largely involved in faculty, clergy cases, or more practical matters involving the Church.

In 1857 Mary Partill of Ettingshall proposes the disinterment of the body of her husband Patrick Partill. Patrick sadly died in May 1857. The couple had only been married for 3 years when he was killed. He worked at Millfield Iron Works, run by Messr’s W. T. Riley & Sons. According to newspaper reports he died from his injuries after a blast furnace explosion at the works on 5th May. Eight men died in total.

The men were all interred together in a public grave set aside from the rest of the cemetery. In Mary’s petition it is not specified exactly why the men were buried together. Perhaps it was due to the nature of the injuries and the scale of the explosion. During the 1850’s there had been issues with space in graveyards but mostly in the bigger cities, so it is unlikely this was a problem in Bilston. In her petition Mary asks for her husband to be removed and placed in a separate grave. We do not know the outcome of her request.

Engraving of elevation and cross-section of two blast furnaces. c.1861, Wellcome Library

However, we can gain some insight into the accident. An article in the Staffordshire Advertiser a week later states that the explosion was caused by a damaged tuyere, this is the pipe that blows air into the furnace allowing it to get hot enough to melt metal. As it was damaged water was allowed to escape and the iron levels got too high which caused the explosion. Originally, the blame was placed on Henry Taft, the furnace keeper, who was about to check the iron levels when the explosion happened. Taft himself was injured severely and had to give evidence from hospital, he later died of his injuries. Since the accident, the faulty tuyere had been replaced. The court ruled accidental death and it looks like no charges were brought against the works.

An article from the Wolverhampton Chronicle detailing the tragic deaths, confirm that accidents were a common occurrence.

‘Yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon, about four o’clock, another of those too frequently recurring catastophes which are unhappily inseparable from the prosecution of the great manufacturing processes in which this district is engaged took place at Millfield Furnaces.’

Wolverhampton Chronicle, 6 May 1857

In the nineteenth century there were no health and safety regulations giving workers protection, looking back it is quite incredible considering the range of seriously dangerous jobs that fuelled the Industrial Revolution, but there were slight changes that were made. Although not enforced well, cotton mills and textile factories were given some provision in 1802; and in 1833 miners working conditions, for both adults and children were brought into question. When explosions did happen in the workplace in the late 19^th century, employers were often challenged about the state of equipment, but more often than not the judge ruled accidental death like our case in Bilston. It wasn’t until 1974 that health and safety legislation really came into force.

‘Charging a blast furnace at the Govan Iron Works, Scotland’ From a Sketch by Mr. W. D. Scott-Moncrieff. Great Industries of Great Britain, Volume I, c1880. Page 77.

The Lead Miners of Wirksworth

In our post last week we talked about a wayward curate in Wirksworth, who refused to do his duty and bury four men who had died whilst working at the local lead mine.

Unfortunately the miners in our 1628 clergy case were left unburied by Haslam. It seems that bureaucracy got in the way, there was a dispute about coroners. Even though Anthony Ferne had  performed as coroner Haslam refused to acknowledge this. He would only bury the men with Thomas Noton acting as coroner. This left the friends of the miners, understandably distraught and unable to grieve as noted in the witness statements:

BC5-1629-7

‘…he refused to bury them unless Thomas Noton who formerly had bin Barmaster of the leade mynes in Wirksworth wapentake; did first as Coroner sitt upon their Corpes; but they told him that Mr Anthony Ferne who was then the Barmaster of that’

BC5-1629-7

‘Wapentake had done that already; it being the Barmasters office to sitt as Coroner upon all dead bodies that by any manner of Casulatie or mischance come to an untimelie end in anie groves there; …’

BC5-1629-7

‘went to the said Edward Haslam to acquainte him therewith and to intreate him to bury the said Corpes and he still utterly refused …’

BC5-1629-7

The friends of the deceased miners had to,

‘…leave the Corpes aforesaid unburied being very much discontented and grieved thereat’

A barmaster is the local holder of mineral rights for the land, they ran the industry and had deputy barmasters to run the everyday side of things, including acting as coroner for miners deaths. It would appear that Haslam disregarded the authority of the new deputy barmaster.

The cause of death for these men was a sudden ‘dampe’ in the grove where they worked’. When first researching this case I assumed that ‘ dampe’ referred to water, it made sense as surface lead had mostly been mined by the 17^th century and workers had to go deeper. Drainage in mines was a real problem as groundwater gathered between rocks. However, I later discovered that ‘damps’ in mining referred to gases. It comes from a German word ‘dampf’ meaning vapour. Gases like methane were one of the many dangers of working in lead mines, as well as flooding and falling rocks.  

This was a major industry in Wirksworth and mining for lead and copper in the Peak District is a long tradition. Lead is found in the veins of the limestone, endemic to the area. In the 17^th century due to poor ventilation and fear that the walls may cave in the trenches had to be quite shallow and breaking down the rocks involved using crude tools and basic techniques.

Cross-section of a lead mine in Derbyshire, showing miners working towards an animal fossil. Lithograph by T. Webster after a sketch by W. Buckland. Wellcome Collection

In Staffordshire, on the edge of the Peak District, Ecton Mine was mining lead and copper. It was reputedly the first British mine to use explosives. The Dukes of Devonshire was barmaster, owning most of the mining rights and its heyday was in the late 18th century. The mines finally closed in about 1889 leaving the waste heaps, levels and buildings which can still be seen today.

So what was it all for? Lead had huge economic value in the 17^th century it was being used for housing, in windows, rooves and in piping, the army used lead for ammunition. It had become second only to wool in economic importance for the country. Most mines in the Peak District began to close towards the end of the 18^th century as imports became cheaper and a lack of veins that hadn’t already been mined. This made the cost of mining much more expensive and essentially ended the industry in the area.  

Mine buildings, ruins and spoil on Hill Top, Ecton copper mines, near Wetton in the Manifold Valley. c1918-1920. Staffordshire Past Track