Inscriptions – the touching, poetic and bizarre

Given that there are in excess of 50,000 graves in Highgate Cemetery, it is inevitable that some of the inscriptions are eye-catching. They include those that are still to this day very touching, especially those that mourn the passing of a child. But they also include the outright bizarre.

There are many memorials to children. Typical, perhaps, is that on the Towell family grave (West), which notes the passing of “Dear Little Johnny”, in August 1869. He was aged 1 year and 9 months. The memorial sadly notes:

Not gone from memory, not gone from love, but gone to his father’s house above
And many memorials to a husband or wife can be equally moving (West). Sarah Bonicina died in 1877, aged 26. Her husband recorded on her memorial (East) that the death:

plunged me into the most

intense and piercing grief

These memorials can still invoke strong emotions today, but none is as desperately tragic as that of Emma Wallace Gray (West). As is noted on her gravestone, she died in October 1854 “in the 19th year of her age”. The memorial states that it was:

From the effects of fire, her dress having accidentally ignited ten days previously

Her dreadful suffering can only be imagined but is clearly hinted at in the verses that follow on the memorial, the first two lines of which read:

In bloom of youth, when others fondly cling

To life, I prayed, mid agonies, for death
The lines conclude:

The only pang my bleeding heart endur’d
Was, thus so early doom’d to leave behind on

Earth those whom I so dearly lov’d

There are other deaths recorded as the result of accidents, such as that of poor Oliver Randell Howard (West):

Born 18th April 1856

Died 18th June 1866

of acute suffering (the effects of a fall)

borne for nearly three years with the resignation

and faith of a true Christian

 Of the poems that are quoted, perhaps the best known is that on the vault of Radcliffe-Hall (1880-1943) from her lover, Una Troubridge (West). The inscription to the left of the door reads:

“And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. Una”

Unattributed, it is by Elizabeth Barret-Browning and is the last two lines of Sonnets from the Portuguese, number 43. Troubridge, who died in 1963, was buried in Rome, despite her wish to be finally reunited with Radcliffe-Hall.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful poems is on a memorial in the Colonnade (West) to Caroline Jennings (1820-1893), erected by her husband, John. This deserves to be quoted in full:

I see thee still! Thou art not dead

Though dust is mingling with thy form

The broken sunbeam hath not shed

The final rainbow on the storm;

In visions of my midnight sleep,

Thine accents through my bosom thrill
Till joys fond impulse bids me weep,

For, wrapt in thought I see thee still.

 Farewell beloved! To mortal sight,

Thy loving looks no more may bloom;

No more thy voice inspire delight,

For thou are garnered in the tomb,

Rich harvest for that ruthless power

Which hath no bound to mar his will;

Yet as in hope’s unclouded hour

Throned in my heart I see thee still.

Again unattributed, this is by Willis Gaylord Clarke and titled ‘A Remembrance’. It is slightly altered (in the second line of the second verse “thy loving looks” was originally “thy vermeil cheek”) and was in three verses, the second having been omitted in its entirety. The full original version can be found at http://www.bartleby.com/248/330.html William Clifford (1845-1879) was an eminent mathematician and philosopher. The Professor was a declared atheist and a friend of the social philosopher Herbert Spencer, who is buried nearby (East). His poetic effort shows the man had a fine sense of humour:

Professor

I was not and was conceived
I loved and did a little work

I am not and grieve not

A more modern example of an inscription which has a light-hearted touch is that of Gordon Bell (1942-1995). His memorial (East) reads:

GORDON BELL

(Middle name Ernest, although he placed no importance on it)

“Tomorrow do thy worst for I have lived today”

The quotation is from John Dryden, “Imitation of Horace” (1685).

Many memorials tell you something about the person’s occupation – one of the most famous being that of James Selby (1842-1888), the celebrated coachman. He achieved fame in July 1888 when he did the coach trip to London and Brighton and back in less than eight hours, winning a bet struck earlier that year at Ascot Races (reportedly for an impressive £1000). His memorial (West) records:

This monument was erected to the memory of James W. Selby, the noted whip and proprietor of the Old Times coach, as a mark of esteem by his many coaching friends

But perhaps in terms of a description of a life’s work, pride of place should go to “Lieutenant General the Right Honourable Sir Henry Knight Storks” (1811-1874). His magnificently carved memorial (West) is seemingly a complete curriculum vitae of his lifetime achievements, detailing his long list of official appointments.

This detailed record of the General’s public offices is too long to reproduce in full, but you can see that having started life as Colonel of HM 70th Regiment (having fought in the Crimea), the well-travelled General went from being the High Commissioner of the Ionian Islands, Governor of Malta and Captain General of Jamaica, to being the MP for Ripon.

William Friese-Green (1855-1921) has a striking gothic-revival style memorial (East), attributed to Edwin Lutyens. This details his life’s passion as an early pioneer of moving cinema photography, described on the memorial as “The Inventor of Kinematograhy”. Interestingly, it is unique in the Cemetery as having a patent number for his invention:

His genius bestowed upon humanity the boon of kinematograhpy of which he was the first inventor and patentee (June 21st 1889 no. 10301)

In terms of a tribute to a person’s lifetime commitments, mention should be made of Claudia Vera Jones. Born in Trinidad in 1915 her family emigrated to New York, where she campaigned for civil rights. A member of the Communist Party, she was a victim of the anti-communist witch-hunts of the late 1940s and after several terms of imprisonment was deported from the US in 1955.

She came to London and continued her work in the growing Caribbean community of Notting Hill and, in part as a reaction to the race riots of 1958, was one of the founders of an annual Mardi Gras which became the Notting Hill Carnival. Never in good health, she died in 1964. Now remembered as “the mother of the Notting Hill Carnival” her memorial, next to that of Karl Marx (East), records that she was a:

valiant fighter against racism and imperialism who dedicated her life to the progress of socialism and the liberation of her own black people

One of the longest and certainly the most effusive testaments to an individual’s achievements is dedicated to the good (indeed, apparently very good) Reverend Josias Wilson (West). Although with his Islington congregation only for a short time (“a season”) he clearly made a deep impression:

Erected

By the Presbyterian congregation

Of River Terrace, Islington,

in memory of their beloved pastor,

the Revd Josias Wilson

in whose light they rejoiced

for a season,

and for the blessed results

of whose labours many of them

shall praise God for an eternity.

He was distinguished for ardent piety,

fervent eloquence, abundant labours,

and pastoral devotedness,

and was the instrument in the hands

of the master whom he loved

of forming or enlarging

four prosperous congregations,

at Tassoch, Drogheda, Belfast and London.

He was a zealous witness

for evangelical truth,

fearless in rebuking sin,

an able advocate of Christian missions,

eminently catholic in spirit,

the friend of the young,

the comforter of the afflicted,

and the father of the poor.

After having served his own generation,

by the will of God

he fell asleep on the 15th April 1847,

in the 45th year of his age

and the 26th year of his ministry.

Breathing a desire to depart and be with Christ

The fashion for detailed descriptions of a person’s life has long disappeared and has been replaced by an emphasis on brevity (as in the inscription on the gravestone of Douglas Adams, which simply says “writer”). But perhaps one of the gravestones that attracts the most comment is, indeed, the most succinct of all. It is that of the artist Patrick Caulfield (1936-2005) who designed his own memorial. This simply reads “Dead”, in large boldly-sculptured letters (East).