The people in what is now the present day London Borough of Lewisham must have breathed a sigh of relief in 1858. Much like the two for one deals that proliferate modern supermarkets today, the local people were treated to not one, but two cemeteries opening – within months of each other. Originally called Deptford and Lewisham Cemeteries, their gates creaked open amidst the backdrop of the Great Stink, where the polluted Thames was killing the living with its foul, untreated water.
Googling revealed that these cemeteries had a notable influence on a popular music artist. It was a location that Florence and the Machine knew well: ‘I actually spent quite a large bit of time here at one point, ’cause I was having music lessons here and I used to hang out in the graveyard. And actually, strangely a small bit of inspiration came from that graveyard…if anyone knows the lyrics to Only If For a Night – a small portion of it comes from Brockley Cemetery.’
It was through the entrance of Brockley Cemetery that I trod the path of so many people before me. I was immeduately struck by the atmosphere that greeted me: the air pollution was a bit bad and the air had a very strange white haze to it, hinting the premature arrival of night and giving everything an almost strange and surreal feeling. It was here that I was greeted by Bob, a friend of the cemetery who was tending to an area of greenery. ‘It’s listed as a wildlife cemetery. Locals complain of the unkempt nature of some areas of it. They take great pride in here and don’t like how some areas have become overgrown for the benefit of the flora and fauna. They think the people here should be respected.’
Bob showed me the stretch where the great and the good chose to have their plots. “There are some great names here: Hepsibar, Eugenia, Augustus. I went around one day looking at all the names related to nature, like Bird or Hedge – and then the vulgar ones” (the most obvious being a particularly unfortunate female name which shall not be repeated here). He bid me farewell shortly afterwards.
Straddling the brick and earth mound I then crossed into Ladywell Cemetery. My, it’s a different beast. In fact most guide books I’ve read say that it is the more interesting of the two, which does hold some truth if not for the peculiar grid system that abuts the Brockley Cemetery. A very eerie system of roads, its tarmac being covered by a strange algae-like grass, its layout reminding me of the Old Crocks Rally at Chessington World of Adventures.
The scars of the Second World War are still evident, even seventy years on from its conclusion. A granite memorial, a usually robust and extremely hard wearing stone has had seven shades knocked out of it and what remains is a beautiful and terrifying reminder of how even the dead weren’t safe from Hitler’s ruthless drive to conquer.
One of the country’s greatest decadent poets also lays here. Ernest Downson, who died aged 32, is credited with coining the term ‘soccer’ and the phrase ‘gone with the wind’ -which later led to the film everyone knows. His memorial (and….’interesting’ love life when looked at through the standards of today) was largely forgotten until 2010, when it was refurbished to commemorate the 110 years since his passing.
On a green mound is the monument to Jane Clousen in the Ladywell half: the housemaid to a wealthy Greenwich Printer who ended up falling in love with his son Edmund. Such a relationship between a servant and the son of a successful businessman was not tolerated and Jane was promptly dismissed. Their love continued, allegedly, but began to falter when he refused to marry her as his brother had recently ‘married below his station’ and their were rumours that Jane was carrying his child. It culminated in 1871 with Jane being found down Kidbrooke Road with the innards of her head exposed to the air, begging ‘oh, let me die’.
Hurriedly realising I was supposed to be in a pub down Minories in forty-five minutes, I left the twin cemeteries of Ladywell and Brockley with the lyrics of Florence and the Machine reverberating through my head: It was all so strange/And so surreal/That a ghost should be so practical/Only if for a night…
All photography © Sheldon K Goodman 2015
I think you are right about the Ladywell side being more interesting, in addition to the graves you mentioned there are ones to the Victorian cyclist, George Lacy Hillier, a Cuban anarchist Fernando del Mármol and a 79 year old WW1 soldier, to name but a few.
There is another version of the Clouson story, that the verdict of the court case – Edmund Pook’s innocence was the right one – it is an interesting case which I blogged about a few months back https://runner500.wordpress.com/2014/11/26/listed-lewisham-the-clousen-memorial-and-the-eltham-murder/
It was interesting to see how the case polarised opinion, and how the press really savaged the Pooks despite Edmund’s acquittal.
It is odd, it still does – I went on a cemetery tour last summer and they pulled out various press cuttings which presented such a one sided view it is incredible, but that was quite common with the reporting of the case. The Old Bailey reports though point to police incompetence and it is easy to see why Pook was quickly acquitted.
Do we know what happened to Pook after the dust settled?
Edmund Pook, contrary to lots of reports including Wikipedia, seems to have stayed on in Greenwich –he is listed in the 1881 census (although wrongly transcribed as Poole) and the family printing business continued there until at least 1908. Edmund died in 1920 aged around 69.
Any idea where he was buried?
I am afraid not, if he he stayed in Greenwich it would probably have been Greenwich Cemetery off Well Hall Road, but his wife died in Jersey so it is possible that he died there too see p 10 of link
http://www.nwkfhs.org.uk/nwkfhs-05-06.pdf