Using the York Cause Papers for Family History

As a family historian I’m always on the look-out for record collections that add some colour to the past lives I’m researching. Sources such as parish registers, general registration and census records are indispensable sources, but on their own they can only give a small number of clues to the life a person led. Sometimes that may be all you’re looking for, but I generally find that once you have an outline view, you become hungry to find more about the person. How did they live? What was their personality like? What did they do in their life? What were their beliefs? Who were their friends? How did they interact with others? What did they own? The list goes on…

Dioceses of the Church of England between the
Reformation and the mid-19th century

I recently had my eyes opened to the documents from the church courts of the Archbishop of York. Known as the York Cause Papers, these documents hold information on people mainly living in the Diocese of York, and the Northern Province and run from 1300 to 1858. The papers are well known and well used by academics researching church, legal and medieval history, but less so by family historians researching the lives of specific individuals or families. Certainly, I’d always felt a little intimidated at the prospect of delving into them and feared that I could spend a lot of time finding very little!

I was looking for a project subject for my studies at the University of Strathclyde, and Alexandra Medcalf from the Borthwick Institute showed me the papers for the cause of Hannah Willmott from Ellerburn. Hannah died in 1820 without leaving a will and had no immediate next of kin. Administrators carried out the initial distribution of her estate, but the scale of wealth she had inherited meant that lots of people started to come out of the woodwork, disputing the actions of her administrators and staking a claim to a share of the estate. The detail of Hannah’s cause deserves a blog post of its own, but what really challenged my preconceptions about Cause Papers were the records I found in this case: 5 detailed family trees, more than 60 “certified” copies of parish register entries and 30 witness testimonies giving vivid descriptions of individuals and events.

Examples of copies of parish register entries and an excerpt from a genealogical chart, TEST.CP.1820/3

With more than 15,000 causes and appeals in the overall collection, I suspected that there could be great potential locked into the records, so I had to find out more. The courts heard causes relating to probate, marriage, immorality, defamation and tithes, and I felt that the probate records could hold details of particular interest to a family historian. And so my project was launched!

I spent time building a high-level view of the entire Cause Paper catalogue, then looked in detail at a selection of testamentary (probate & administration) causes dated between 1733-1858. Here are some of the things I found in the causes I looked at:

A relatively large number of people can be found in the collection. Across the 100 causes I looked at in the catalogue, I found 720 named individuals. Causes most often involved only 2 participants, but some (admittedly exceptional) causes had more than 30 people involved. The average number of participants was 7 people per cause. Looking more broadly, and with 15,000 causes in the full collection, it means that there is the potential to find details for more than 30,000+ individuals (possibly up to 100,000). Although this is not a large number when compared to collections such as parish registers or census records, when considering the relatively humble background of those listed, and the periods covered, this is a significant collection.

The individuals came from a wide range of backgrounds. The occupations of people involved in causes were not just limited to legal or church officials. They also included producers (e.g. agricultural workers), manufacturers (e.g. clothing, food, construction), sellers and dealers, professionals and transport workers. This is great news for family historians, as biographical information about individuals from such a broad range of backgrounds is extremely scarce prior to the 1841 Census.

Occupations found for 50% of the 720 people named in testamentary catalogue sample

Most of the individuals came from Yorkshire. This was not really surprising, but given the complexity of church court jurisdictions (there were 372 active in England & Wales in 1832), it’s useful to know that I found 84% of participants came from Yorkshire (all Ridings). 13% came from elsewhere in the Northern Province (mostly Lancashire, Durham and Nottinghamshire), and 3% came from the Southern Province.

Heat map showing locations of testamentary cause participants

The depositions (witness testimonies) and case exhibits are generally the most useful documents. I looked at 20 causes in great detail and found more than 400 documents, across 1000 images. These documents contain a wide variety of facts and clues, some of which may not be available elsewhere, and this is where I found I could glean most information about a person’s character. Other records such as parish records, family trees, guardianship, debtor/creditor accounts, etc. may open up new lines of enquiry helping break through a brick wall.

Examples of documents in causes: an account of funeral costs from 1779 (TEST.CP.1779/2 p. 2)
and a sample of questions put to witnesses 1820 (TEST.CP.1820/3 p. 106)

The catalogue has a wide range of search terms. Many family historians will be searching for a person by name. Whilst the search allows for a search by name or variant, I’d love to see an enhancement to allow for a phonetic search. During the period of the records, names would have been spoken much more often than written, and given the rich variety of dialects across Yorkshire, a phonetic search would help to track individuals down. The search is not just limited by name. The cataloguing team have indexed a wide variety of terms, all of which can be searched in the advanced search. Places, occupations, dates, roles, sex, status are all indexed (where they appear on the source record), and while I did find a small number of inconsistencies, errors and omissions, this doesn’t in any way diminish the fantastic job the team did in compiling the catalogue.

The quality of online images is excellent. People familiar with attempting to read parish registers from digital versions of grainy, feint microfilm images, will be delighted with the quality of the images in the cause paper collection. I only found a couple of less than perfect images in the 1000 I looked at.

The records are (relatively) easy to read and understand. Armed with a basic understanding of court procedures, and a good reference book, the records were surprisingly easy to follow. The handwriting was generally clear, most records types were easy to identify, and the standard records were consistent in their structure. After 1733, English was the mandatory language, and I also found it used in many pre-1733 records. Those pre-1733 records written in Latin were harder to decode, but they were generally formulaic so once the record type had been identified, I found it possible to pull out keywords.

Having found all of these benefits, I also need to sound a word of caution which will be of no surprise to family history researcher. Always keep in mind the context of the records, don’t just take them at face value. These records were created in adversarial court cases, so there is a risk of bias and this needs to be taken into account before accepting what is written. This is made difficult on some occasions, where a cause did not have a full set of papers, making it harder to reconstruct the case and determine a record’s context. However, understanding the verdict and cross-referencing facts to other sources (e.g. newspaper accounts of proceedings) will help in this area. 

So is it worth the effort? Absolutely it is! The project team which created the online catalogue have created a fabulous, easy to access, free to use resource. Anyone researching a Yorkshire tyke living between 1300 and 1858 should have this on their list to check and may well tap into a rich seam of information that will bring real colour to their research.

The catalogue of York Cause Papers can be found at here, with images (where they are not linked directly through the catalogue) here. 

To get a deeper understanding of the records, the following are invaluable sources of information:

• The Cause Papers Research Guide.
• Tarver, Anne. (1995) Church Court Records: An introduction for family and local historians. Chichester, England: Phillimore.
• Withers, Colin Blanshard. (2006) Yorkshire probate. 1st edition. Bainton, England: Yorkshire Wolds Publication.

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This blog was written by Paul Wainwright, a volunteer at the Borthwick Institute working on the Retreat Letters Project . Paul is a student on the University of Strathclyde's MSc in Genealogical, Palaeographic and Heraldic Studies and a student member of the Register of Qualified Genealogists. 

William Huskisson and the Vicaress of Eccles

By Sally-Anne Shearn. With thanks to the National Railway Museum; Hoole History Society; Chetham's Library, Manchester; and the staff of Chester Cathedral.

The death of Liverpool MP William Huskisson at the opening of the Liverpool to Manchester Railway in September 1830 has become a notorious event in early railway history.  Less well known however is the part played in the events of that day by Emma Anne Blackburne, the Vicaress of Eccles, who features heavily in the correspondence of Annabel Crewe, part of the Milnes Coates Archive at the Borthwick Institute.

Some of Annabel Crewe's Correspondence in the Milnes Coates Archive

On the morning of 15 September 1830 eight trains hauled by ‘Stephenson locomotives’ and carrying a total of thirty two carriages waited at Liverpool, led by railway pioneer George Stephenson himself driving the train in which rode the Prime Minister the Duke of Wellington.  

The scene was set for a grand spectacle but just seventeen miles into the journey, during a stop at Parkside, William Huskisson crossed the track to speak with the Duke and was struck by the approaching locomotive engine 'Rocket' driven by Joseph Locke, crushing his leg.  The stricken Huskisson was carried to a train carriage and, accompanied by his wife, was taken to Eccles Vicarage, near Manchester, where he was attended by doctors.  His wounds were so severe that they could only make him comfortable and he died just after 9pm that evening.

The Opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway
Science Museum Group Collection
copyright: The Board of Trustees of the Science Museum

Huskisson’s death made front page news, earning him the dubious honour of becoming the world's first widely reported railway passenger casualty.  His conveyance ‘to the house of the Rev. Mr Blackburne’ at Eccles was also widely reported.  But it was not the Reverend himself who received the Huskissons and their friends that day, but his wife Emma who was alone in the house with her children, and it was Emma who distinguished herself to such an extent that her conduct on that day would be remembered at her own death more than fifty years later.

A replica of a first class train carriage on the Liverpool & Manchester Railway.
National Railway Museum (author's own photo)

Emma Anne Hesketh was born in 1795, the daughter of Henry Hesketh of Newton Hall, a wealthy wine merchant.  An 1884 book of ‘Railway Adventures and Anecdotes’ would call her ‘rather strong-minded than otherwise’ and this is certainly borne out by what we know of her life.  At a time when there was little financial protection for women, the young Emma was responsible for establishing the Flookersbrook, Newton & Hoole Female Friendly Society which provided insurance for its members in the event of illness and disability.  In the case of female friendly societies, this included pregnancy and other specifically female ailments.  A report in the Chester Courant of 3 June 1816 recorded the anniversary procession of the Society, led by ‘Miss E. Hesketh’ (who also made a ‘neat and appropriate’ speech), and noted the society’s emblem of a beehive and a pair of joined hands, designed by Emma, with the mottoes ‘Piety and Virtue’ and  ‘Friendship and Industry.’

Following her marriage to the Reverend Thomas Blackburne in 1819 Emma would play an equally prominent role in her new parish of Eccles, where as the vicar’s wife she ‘showed remarkable powers of organisation and work’ among a population of some 25,000 people.  A visitor to the area, Catherine Stanley, who met Emma in 1832 wrote admiringly of her hard work: ‘there is one person who interests me very much, Mrs Tom Blackburne, the Vicaress of Eccles… She made one ashamed of the ease and idleness of one’s own life, compared with hers.’ She quickly recognised that Emma was ‘the ruling spirit’ there, and that ‘under her guidance, and the help of a sound head and heart, her husband has become the very man for the place.

Eccles Parish Church in 1800, just 18 years before Thomas Blackburne became its vicar.
Image reproduced with permission of Chetham’s Library, Manchester.

The important role Emma played in the management of the parish was recognised equally by her husband’s parishioners.  When, in 1837, they presented Reverend Blackburne with a ‘costly testimonial’ on the occasion of his moving to Prestwich, Emma was specifically included in their tribute, their representative praising her for having ‘the heart to feel and the energy to act’, and adding that without her efforts ‘so much could not have been accomplished for the schools - so much could not have been done for the afflicted poor’. 

With this in mind it is perhaps not surprising that the role played by Emma on the 15 September 1830 was so characteristically active.  For the occasion of the grand opening of the railway Emma and her husband had been invited to a celebration at Hale Hall, near Liverpool, then the home of Reverend Blackburne’s brother, the MP John Blackburne.  In the words of the Cornhill Magazine, reporting on the events at Eccles in an 1884 article, there then occurred ‘one of those strange circumstances utterly condemned by critics of fiction as ‘unreal’, ‘unnatural’ or ‘impossible.’  After arriving at Hale, Emma, who was then six months pregnant, became ‘possessed by an unmistakable presentiment’ that her presence was required at home and insisted on returning to Eccles at once, to the surprise and consternation of her friends and family.  

At such a time this journey was easier said than done, but Emma persisted and took a carriage to Warrington where she travelled the rest of the way to Eccles by canal boat, arriving at the vicarage on the 14th to find, to her surprise, that all was well.  Whether Emma truly had a ‘presentiment’, or the Cornhill Magazine was employing some artistic license, Emma was certainly there, with only her children and servants, on the morning of the 15th when a Mr Barton of Swinton arrived at the vicarage with the alarming news that a mob was expected to come from Oldham that day to attack the train as it passed through three miles of unguarded railway line near Eccles.  Their object was the carriage of the Duke of Wellington, a popular Peninsular war hero but by then an unpopular Tory Prime Minister.  Expecting to find Mr Blackburne, Barton found Emma instead who took charge in place of her husband, rousing fifty special constables and the churchwardens to form a ‘guard for the Duke’ on Eccles bridge.  According to the Cornhill Magazine Emma then set up a small tent for herself and her children on a nearby hill with a good view of the railway line and settled down to enjoy the grand opening, along with gathering crowds of villagers.

Parkside, where the fatal accident took place.
Science Museum Group Collection
copyright: The Board of Trustees of the Science Museum

It was while waiting there that she was said to have heard the first commotion and confused shouts of an accident at the vicarage.  Hurrying back she found a growing crowd around the vicarage and a ‘sad procession’ bearing Huskisson upon a door.  Her husband was then at Manchester and still had no knowledge of events, but he wrote to his mother in law the following day to take up the tale, ‘[Emma] made her way through the immense crowd.’ At her direction ‘they placed him on the sopha in the drawing room and dared not move him till he died’, adding with some pride that ‘as to dearest Emma, they all value her as they ought.’  

Indeed, Emma was universally praised for her conduct throughout.  The Cornhill Magazine asserting that ‘the accident of a day had brought into prominence the devoted work of years’.  In a biographical memoir of Huskisson published the year after his death, the author claimed that ‘kindness would, indeed, have been shewn by any under such circumstances; but few could have been so capable as Mrs Blackburne to arrange with ready and affectionate attention, and to perform so quickly and with such perfect judgement, every thing which it could be hoped might in any way minister to his assistance.’  

Emma’s tasks were manifold.  As well as the need for her own nursing skills, she had to manage a sudden influx of guests into her small home: Lords Wilton, Granville and Colvile, Huskisson’s secretary Mr Wainwright, Mr Ransome, Mr Whatton, the doctors from Manchester, and the following day Lords Gore, Warncliffe, Walhouse and Littleton, and an additional two deputations from Liverpool.  Her husband, who had finally received word of the disaster while eating his luncheon in Manchester, returned at once to support his wife and to give Huskisson the Sacrament, writing in something of an understatement that he found the house in a ‘tolerable bustle’.  

But perhaps Emma’s most important role was as a support to the traumatised and grieving Emily Huskisson who had witnessed her husband’s accident and accompanied him in the carriage to Eccles.  The Cornhill Magazine writes that Emily was separated from her husband by the immense crowds there and, having been mistakenly told he had been taken to a nearby farmhouse, made her way there first before being redirected to the vicarage, where she arrived nearly an hour later to find her husband ‘suffering agonies’.  Emma told Catherine Stanley that Emily was ‘alternately in paroxysms of grief and a still more dreadful calmness’.  She remained with Huskisson in the drawing room, Thomas Blackburne writing ‘never shall I forget that scene, his poor wife holding his head, and the great men weeping.’  

William Huskisson's Memorial Tablet.
Science Museum Group Collection
copyright: The Board of Trustees of the Science Museum

After Huskisson’s death that evening Emily remained at the vicarage a further three days. ‘Poor woman’, wrote Thomas Blackburne, ‘how she lamented his loss; yet her struggles to bear with fortitude are wonderful.’  Emma’s own account, as given to Catherine Stanley, is less stoic.  Emma told her that the most painful thing she had to do was to wake Emily from a deep sleep the morning after his death, ‘She went three times into the room before she had resolution to wake her outright’ and when she finally did so Emily became so hysterical that Emma had to be assisted by Lord Granville to calm her, ‘in which task only he and Mrs Blackburne were in any degree successful’.  On the day she was to leave the house to accompany her husband’s body back to Liverpool, Emily again gave way to violent grief, locking herself in her room to pray ‘during which Mrs Blackburne tried in vain to get to her assistance’.  

Despite the terrible circumstances of their meeting, Emily would remember Emma and her kindness with great affection.  She had spoken to Emma at the time of her worry that the pregnant Lady Elizabeth Belgrave (who had been present during the accident) would suffer from the effects of the shock.  Emma was quick to reassure her, and revealed nothing of her own advanced pregnancy, but later wrote to her when her baby, whom she named Emily Anne, was born ‘and Mrs Huskisson answered her that it was the first ray of sunshine that had come to her, for she had afterwards found it out and it had weighed heavily upon her.’   Some months after the accident Emily sent the Blackburnes a bible with gold clasps, bearing the inscription ‘I was a stranger, and ye took me in’ and from then until the Blackburnes’ removal to Prestwich in 1837 she also sent £20 at Christmas to be distributed amongst the poor of Eccles.  In her will in 1856 she left Emma £100.

Reverend Thomas Blackburne died unexpectedly in 1847, leaving Emma a widow with eight children.  She settled at Boughton and that we know anything detailed about her life subsequently is due to her appearance in the set of letters at the Borthwick Institute belonging to Emma’s distant cousin Annabel Crewe, the daughter of the 2nd Baron Crewe of Crewe Hall in Cheshire.  It is once again at a time of crisis that Emma comes to the fore, in this case the illness and death in February 1850 of Annabel’s beloved aunt, Elizabeth Emma Cunliffe Offley, with whom Annabel had lived since the age of 15.  It was ‘dear kind Mrs Blackburne’ who supported Annabel through the first difficult days, making the necessary arrangements and becoming her ‘staff and stay’ in the months that followed.  Emma would often refer to Annabel by the nickname ‘IX’, an honorary ninth daughter.

A letter from Emma Blackburne to 'My very dear IX' [Annabel]
discussing Warmingham church affairs and the progress of Crewe Hall.
Milnes Coates Archive, Borthwick Institute

 

A total of seventeen letters by Emma herself survive amongst Annabel’s correspondence, filled with family news and gossipy anecdotes that give a vivid insight into her personality.  The ‘Dear and Faithful’ as she came to be dubbed by Annabel and her sister Henrietta remained an important figure in the lives of the Crewe siblings, who were in age between 13 and 19 years her junior.  She attended Annabel’s wedding to Richard Monckton Milnes, later Lord Houghton, in 1851 and acted as an unofficial housekeeper and hostess for Annabel’s brother, the shy and eccentric Hungerford, 3rd Baron Crewe, when he entertained at Crewe Hall.  In Emma’s longest surviving letter to Annabel she writes of a grand three day entertainment given by Hungerford at Crewe in 1859 for all his tenantry - but evidently organised by Emma.  She even dug out an old local song for the occasion, ‘The band sang well after each Toast, I had taught them the old Crewe song - which was encored each day, Your brother was quite delighted with it...I never saw a man so happy as he was, it was quite wonderful how he remembered to say the right thing to the right person.’  It was also Emma who made arrangements for the grand re-opening of Crewe Hall after the devastating fire of 1866, following the rebuilding work with interest and updating Annabel and Henrietta on the latest developments.  

Emma Anne Blackburne's stained glass window at Chester Cathedral (author's own image)

Emma would outlive both Annabel and Henrietta, dying in 1886 in her 91st year, one of the oldest inhabitants of Spring Hill in Boughton.  She was survived by two daughters and five sons and her funeral in Chester was attended by Hungerford and by Annabel’s husband Lord Houghton. At her death her link to Huskisson was once again recalled, with many newspapers describing her as ‘the lady who nursed Mr Huskisson’ and noting that with the death of the ‘good and kindly’ Mrs Blackburne, had been severed ‘probably the last surviving link in the chain of connexion with the dark cloud which marred an otherwise auspicious event’ so many years before.

She is commemorated by a stained glass window in Chester Cathedral with a dedication that reads,

In loving remembrance of Emma Anne Blackburne, here married A.D. M DCCCXIX., and of Katherine Margaret, her daughter, here baptised A.D. M D CCCXXIV., this window is dedicated in the name of God, M DCCCCII.

Emma Blackburne's grave at Overleigh Cemetery, Chester (author's own image)

Bibliography

Christian Wolmar, ‘Fire and Steam: How the Railways Transformed Britain’, London 2007.

Richard Pike, ‘Railway Adventures and Anecdotes: Extending Over More Than Fifty Years’, 1884.

Flookersbrook, Newton & Hoole Female Friendly Society’
[http://www.hoolehistorysoc.btck.co.uk/HooleSocialWelfare/FemaleFriendlySocieties]

‘Death of Mrs Blackburne of Boughton’, Chester Observer, 17 April 1886.

‘Memoirs of Edward and Catherine Stanley’, edited by Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, 1880.

‘Eccles: Splendid Testimonial to the Rev. Thomas Blackburne A.M.’, Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser, 4 March 1837.

‘At Eccles’, The Cornhill Magazine, 1884.

‘The speeches of the Right Honorable William Huskisson, with a biographical memoir, supplied to the editor from authentic sources’, London 1831.

‘Funeral of Mrs Blackburne’, Liverpool Mercury, 19 April 1886.

‘Death of the Lady who Nursed Mr Huskisson’, The Manchester Evening News, 14 April 1886.

‘Notes and Comments’, Newcastle Evening Chronicle 15 April 1886.

When Joseph met Julia: A Rowntree Love Story

Written by Sarah Moses, Archives Trainee

In the Rowntree Victorian Correspondence, there are a number of letters revealing details about the relationship between Joseph Rowntree and Julia Seebohm from meeting in York as school pupils (although they had probably known each other since early childhood) to Julia’s untimely death at the age of 22.

Julia Elizabeth Seebohm was born in Bradford on 6 March 1841, the daughter of Benjamin Seebohm and his wife Esther (née Wheeler). Benjamin, a Quaker, had moved from Germany to Bradford in 1814 at the request of English Quakers, who had valued his role as an interpreter for them while they visited his local area and other parts of Europe. Esther was the granddaughter of William Tuke of York.

The young Julia Seebohm (JRF Rowntree Photographs)

Julia was educated at the York Quarterly Meeting Girls’ School in Castlegate (later The Mount School) between 1854 and 1856, where she was a close friend of Hannah Rowntree. Julia often visited the Rowntree family during this time, as is reflected in her letters. This letter to her mother in May 1854 is just one example:

‘My dearest mother,

I must now begin to write to thee as I have a small portion of time to spare & I shall not have much time tomorrow for I am going to Joseph Rowntree’s to dinner & tea with Hannah and Libby [...]’ (RFAM/JS/VC/2/20)

In the spring of 1857, Julia became reacquainted with Joseph Rowntree at her brother Frederic’s home in Hitchin. Few of Joseph and Julia’s letters from this period survive but, using letters from their friends, we can piece together something of their relationship. In April 1858, Julia’s school friend Sarah Hannah Grimshaw wrote:

‘[...] I suppose thou wilt have heard that M. A. Ashby is going to be married to one of the Richardsons. Does it not seem queer that one of my schoolfellows should be married; but does thou know I have heard of another? A more intimate friend of mine whom thou art very well acquainted with intending to do the same. If there is any truth in it of course thou will know of it better than any one. Joseph Rowntree Jun[ior] being her intended. I am a little impertinent puss to tease poor mousey so am I not? If I did not think thee very merciful perhaps I should not dare to do it. [...]’ (RFAM/JS/VC/17/19)

Nearly four years later after this letter was written, Joseph and Julia became engaged. Joseph’s draft letter (with corrections) to his future parents-in-law requesting their daughter’s hand in marriage is found in our Rowntree Family Letters Archive:

‘My dear Friends, Benjamin & Esther Seebohm

I am about to ask your kind attention to a subject of great importance and one that has for a long time engaged my warmest interest. 

From an early period of my acquaintance with ^your dear^ Julia, indeed whilst she was at York School, I formed a warm attachment for her, & have cherished the hope that she might be the right partner for me in life. I have deeply felt the importance of the subject, & it has often engaged my earnest prayerful consideration with the desire for the Lord’s guidance in it.

For some years past Julia has never been long absent from my thoughts; increased acquaintance has heightened my estimate of her character, my affections are deeply engaged and I now ask your permission to address her on the subject.

I trust you will allow me to express my feelings to Julia in writing & I indulge the hope that an early visit to London, which I have in prospect, may afford the opportunity of our meeting.

The subject of this letter has the warm approval of my dear Mother who wishes to write in dear love to you. [...] Jos R’ (Rowntree Family Letters, Bundle 4d)

The proposal letter from Joseph Rowntree 

 

During their engagement, Joseph and Julia appear to have written to each other almost daily and, as their wedding day approached, their thoughts turned towards arrangements for their big day. In this letter from June 1862, Joseph writes to his fiancée about her wedding attire:

‘[...] As to thy wedding dress, darling, thou will look so well in anything that it does not make much matter what thou has (within certain limits). I have no obligation to a white silk & it seems as though this might save a good deal of trouble. [...]’ (RFAM/JR/VC/6/5)

Joseph and Julia married on 15 August 1862 in the Friends’ Meeting House in Hitchin. They then moved into ‘Top House’ at Bootham, York, the home of Joseph’s mother Sarah (although the house had been divided into two sections, giving the young couple some privacy). 

Joseph and Julia Rowntree (JRF Rowntree Photographs)

Nine months later, their daughter Julia Seebohm (known as ‘Lillie’) was born. Julia’s health, never particularly strong, rapidly deteriorated after Lillie’s birth and Joseph sent them both to Scarborough, hoping for some improvement. At the end of August 1863, Julia returned to York and fell desperately ill. She died on 19 September 1863, most likely of meningitis. 

Joseph’s grief is illustrated in some of his letters, including this one to his mother-in-law less than a fortnight after Julia’s death:

‘[...] It is only 4 weeks today since our darling came home from Scarb[o]ro[ugh] looking then indeed very ill, but able to enter with intense feeling into the enjoyments of her home. Sometimes when alone the past comes before me so vividly that I hardly know how to bear the train of recollections that pour in & I have to bury myself in a book, or take refuge in dear Mother’s dining room. 

I feel that there is a left hand & a right hand temptation to struggle against - on the one hand not to allow myself to become swallowed up in the common round of daily occupations & on the other not to become selfish or morbid by too much cherishing my sorrow […] by allowing the spring of action to be weakened by the constant sense of very heavy bereavement.

But this is an egotistical letter. I felt for you going back to your home which can never more be brightened by your daughter being present & thy kind letter of this morning, for which Mother wished me to thank thee, brought your loneliness again before me. [...]’ (RFAM/JR/VC/8/2)

Joseph's mother Sarah Rowntree with baby Lillie
(JRF Rowntree Photographs)

 

But life continued. Joseph’s sister Hannah came to live with him and help to care for his young daughter Lillie. When Lillie was almost 11 months old, Joseph wrote to his mother-in-law:

‘[...] If my little pet looks as well when thou sees her as she looks this morning after breakfast thou will think her a noble little grandchild. Hannah professes to be anxious ab[ou]t her getting so plump. H thinks the chicken does not mean to learn to crawl but will walk without passing through this stage. [...]’

A few years later, Joseph met Julia’s cousin Emma Antoinette Seebohm (known as ‘Tonie’) in Hitchin, where she was learning English. They married on 14 November 1867 and Tonie moved into ‘Top House’. Lillie was now 5 years old and she wrote the following letter to her father and stepmother while they were on their honeymoon:

‘Dashwood Road, 

Banbury.

Nov 24. 1867

My dear Papa & Mama,

I have seen some peacocks in the gardens of Roxton Abbey. I send some feathers & one is a brown one & one is a blue & brown. They both are very soft. And I got a great many chestnuts & Suzanna is very well but Effie is ’nt. Effie has got a cold, and one is a brown feather & the other is brown & white on the top. I am very happy here & I hope you will come in the morning when I am chalking & Suzanna laid by me.

We have such a funny game & one ball has to be on the top in such a funny heap & we have to try to knock it  (& it is called Chinese Bagalille) & I am sure I like to be at Banbury. We went such a very beauty ride yesterday & we saw some cows & two such queer ducks & a man fed the ducks & we saw more than two ducks. The cows were in a field & we went over such a queer little bridge, two bridges.

Tantie has just had a letter from Grandmamma & she says John & Mable fighted together so that Cousin Pollie had to open the door, because they were so naughty & one came out, & sat a very long time out of the cage, & I am sure Topsy is very silly & I am sure Charlie sings very much. And we went to see a house yesterday & it had some ivy on & Tantie went to see the lady. I send as many loves & kisses as you like.

Your loving little daughter

Lillie’ (RFAM/JR/VC/9/1)

Lillie Rowntree (JRF Rowntree Photographs)

Sadly, Lillie died of scarlet fever on 16 May 1869, bringing the last living memory of Joseph and Julia’s relationship to an end. After this decade full of both happiness and sadness, however, Joseph and Tonie (and their own children) lived happily for many years. But that story is told elsewhere.

An A-Z of life as a Trainee at the Borthwick Institute for Archives

By Sarah Moses, Archive Trainee

Welcome to my A-Z of what I’ve learned while I’ve been a trainee at the Borthwick Institute for Archives! I started working here in July 2018 and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the traineeship but, as I’m almost finished, I wanted to provide some insight into the life of an Archive Trainee. 

A is for Archive Graduate Trainee: This traineeship is an opportunity for someone interested in being an archivist to learn more about the practical side of working in an archive, before pursuing a formal postgraduate qualification. The Borthwick role includes a huge variety of tasks from copying probate orders to social media to working in the searchroom, as well as training in aspects of an archivist’s job and visits to other repositories to learn even more. In this blog post, I’ll be attempting to show just how varied the trainee’s role truly is! 

B is for Borthcat: The Borthwick Catalogue (https://borthcat.york.ac.uk/) provides all manner of information about our archives and their history. Whether you need a quick search to check some information or you have time to get lost in the depths of archival descriptions and authority records, Borthcat is your one-stop shop for all things holdings-related. (Although I’ve also learned that you sometimes just cannot get by without the paper catalogues in the searchroom.) 

C is for Conservation: Our conservators form a vital part of the team at the Borthwick. As a trainee, I’ve got to know them as the people who work magic on the rolled probate records I bring in to have made flat. They are also the fount of all knowledge when it comes to packaging, and don’t seem to mind too much when I repeatedly ask questions about how to deal with specific documents/objects/photograph albums. On the subject of photographs, most of these (along with some scientific instruments) are held in our cold store, which is (as the name suggests) COLD. I quickly learned that if I would be spending a large amount of time in there, I needed to wear extra layers. (On a side note, this sartorial advice actually applies to working in archives anyway - many areas are colder than you expect!) 

D is for Data Protection: Before I started my traineeship, my only known experience of data protection was the numerous emails I had received the previous year relating to GDPR. But I now know far more about the 100-year rule and the various regulations for medical records in particular. Although a more knowledgeable member of staff has always been happy to answer any questions about data protection because this is one area in which I really didn’t want to mess up!

E is for Exercise: An unexpected side effect of being an archive trainee is the exercise I’ve got. Although I have lifted heavy items more than once in my life, it is slightly different when you are moving dozens of boxes every day. Not only have I actually got arm muscles for the first time in my life, but climbing stairs and walking between strongrooms and the searchroom and accessions (where I’m based) and the digitisation suite and the staff area have made me fitter, despite all the cake archivists eat.

F is for File: While fixing problems on Borthcat, I asked what I assumed was a very simple, very stupid question: in a description of an archival collection, what is the difference between file-level and item-level? Apparently, this is not such a simple, stupid question after all, which provokes debates on, for example, whether a minute book is an item in itself, or whether it is a file in which individual entries/pages are items. I found myself surrounded by hours of discussion and had books recommended to me on the topic.

G is for General Staff Meetings: The highlight of every three months. It is the trainee’s job to provide statistics on rolled wills given to conservation, which will inevitably involve a fight with a spreadsheet and more time than it should take manually copying and pasting and adding up, but I always managed (eventually) to obtain the right information. I also learned that it’s advisable to read other people’s summary reports that are provided before the meeting, so you don’t end up sitting in a room of 20 people where everyone else seems to know what is being discussed and you don’t have a clue.

H is for Handwriting: Or more accurately: palaeography. This is one of the greatest archival skills I have learned in my traineeship. Through both 1:1 study with a member of staff and seminars taught as part of a postgraduate module, after a few weeks of studying early modern material, I started to realise that maybe I could actually read it. And if in doubt, I learned to count the minims and ask myself if the letter I was stuck on was ‘c’ or ‘h’ or ‘r’ or ‘&’ (it’s normally one of those). I also had the opportunity to work on some 19th and 20th century material, which made the 16th century palaeography seem like a doddle. On a slight tangent, I was also able to participate in the Medieval Latin course run by the University’s Languages for All scheme (https://www.york.ac.uk/lfa/courses/latin-medieval/). This can be taken at either beginner or advanced level and provides a solid foundation in Latin grammar and vocabulary, as well as information on standard phrases used in legal and probate documents. 

 The first palaeography document I attempted to read - the will of Jane Stapilton

I is for Instagram: And Facebook. And Twitter. One of my most time-consuming roles has been maintaining the social media channels of the Borthwick. We may not have reached the dizzying heights of The Museum of English Rural Life or Orkney Library but social media is a great way to show what we do. I’ve learned to be creative, have fun and, most importantly, ask my colleagues for ideas. Typing in a certain word on Borthcat may provide an overwhelming selection of records to use, but it is most likely that someone will have a random nugget of information tucked away deep in their memory banks that was stored for such a time as this. And I’ve had the privilege of staging many a photoshoot for Archie (our dearly loved archive squirrel). He could be doing anything or saying anything (more or less) and get away with it. Because he’s a squirrel. 

Archie the Archive Squirrel

J is for Jobs, Odd: As a trainee, I’ve ended up doing jobs that I’d never expected. From staging photo shoots for a squirrel to creating a post-it note crown for said squirrel (twice), I’ve occasionally found myself in slightly bizarre circumstances during my traineeship. One of my most ‘what am I actually doing’ non-squirrel-related moments was when we got a new safe for our keys and I spent an hour sitting on the floor, writing out sticky labels with staff names on, attaching these to the new cabinet and transferring the keys across (which had helpfully been mixed up moments beforehand). 

The first outfit I made for Archie - a crown and a paperchain

 

K is for Key Cabinet: A few months into my traineeship, we got a new safe for the keys we use to access various parts of the building. With its handy touchpad to ensure ease of opening, this safe will seem perfectly normal to anyone beginning a career at the Borthwick. But, unfortunately, they’ve missed out on the rite of passage that was the old key cabinet. Transferred from the Borthwick’s old home at St Anthony’s Hall, this cabinet had a dial that was incredibly temperamental. A fraction of a degree out of place could make all the difference (as could pounding the door of the cabinet), and I thought I would never learn how to use it and instead be reliant on other people getting my keys out for me...until Day 3 of my traineeship, when I opened the safe by myself and, of course, no one was around to see it! Sometimes change is good.

L is for Lifelong Learning: Our main classroom space is known as the Lifelong Learning room. I’ve spent plenty of time in here setting up for various classes and visits. Sometimes it is simply a case of moving some chairs and tables; sometimes I’ve spent more than an hour laying out archival material that will be studied by the visiting group. Sitting in on classes (especially at the start of my traineeship), was a great way to learn more about the holdings of the Borthwick, and to see how outreach can be done in an archival setting. 

Archie in Lifelong Learning

M is for Milk: We’re halfway through my A-Z, so I think it’s time for a tea break, but is there milk in the fridge? This is one of my most inconspicuous, yet vital, roles. If there’s milk in the fridge, no one bats an eyelid. If there isn’t, someone else will have to buy milk from the shop on campus and I feel like I’ve failed at life. 

N is for The Northern Way Project: And the Rowntree Archives Project. And the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust Project. And the Alcoholics Anonymous Project. And the Yorkshire Historic Dictionary Project. It’s always a great idea to learn about the projects being undertaken at the Borthwick. The project archivists have provided me with all sorts of fascinating information and taught me about cataloguing (and I’ve been able to hear them discussing times when they’ve found funny/sad/annoying records which provide an insight into their project). Because they know their project material so thoroughly, they are also great people to ask for ideas for social media.

O is for Orders Database: What to say about the orders database. It is a fantastic spreadsheet, providing a wealth of useful information but it is full of all kinds of formulae and buttons I never ever want to mess with. When people order anything through the research or copying services on our website, their request arrives in the orders database, from which we can generate invoices and store any necessary information. I use it almost daily, so I’ve had to become familiar with the columns I need. And in the worst case scenario, it does ask whether you really want to type in a box which should not be changed, so I can quickly say, “No, thank you” and get back to what I was trying to do. And in the worst worst case scenario, the database can easily be restored to a version from a few hours before (but I always ask someone who actually knows what they’re doing to fix it).

P is for Packaging: As part of my traineeship, I’ve been asked on several occasions to transfer archival material from the cardboard boxes/plastic bags in which it arrived, to archival standard packaging, checking for rusty paperclips, plastic wallets or anything that maybe should be treated slightly differently (like a box of matches - yes, really). My repackaging tasks have varied from school records to ecclesiastical records to scripts for plays to miscellaneous business records. I’ve also been asked to create lists of the contents of each box - such a simple exercise and yet incredibly useful for finding stuff. 

Some examples of box lists I've created

Q is for Questions: This is questions in two senses: (a) questions I receive, and (b) questions I pose. Firstly, when working at the searchroom reception desk, I am asked many many questions. These enquiries could be received by email (in which case I can consult other members of staff before replying), by telephone (in which case I can ask them to email us, or say that I will email them, if I don’t know the answer), or in person (in which case it is more difficult to hide my lack of knowledge). The questions could be anything from general queries on using probate indexes to incredibly detailed analyses of a person’s ancestors. Secondly, there are the questions I have posed as a trainee. Throughout my first few weeks (and, let’s be honest, all year) it was reiterated to me on multiple occasions that there were no stupid questions and I could ask for help as many times as I needed. And, to be fair to my colleagues, everyone has treated me with patience and kindness, even if I have forgotten something incredibly basic. I had to ask how to turn a computer on a few months into my traineeship, so it’s pretty impossible to do any worse than that.

R is for Rowntree correspondence: Presented with three boxes of hundreds of letters written to and by the Rowntree family in the middle of the 19th century, I faced the daunting prospect of writing a short note on the author, recipient, date and contents of each letter. Fortunately, some work had already been done to find the common thread in each bundle, and so, armed with a fairly detailed family tree of Joseph Rowntree, I began this task. However, I hadn’t reckoned on the challenge of reading Victorian handwriting. And, as luck would have it, the least legible writing style came from Joseph’s mother Sarah, hundreds of whose letters are contained within the collection. Fortunately, I quickly learned that if I was really struggling to read someone’s handwriting, I should take the time to actually sit and transcribe whole letters. Although this was time-consuming, it enabled me to “get my eye in” and pick out common stylistic variations.

The first Rowntree letter I read - from Joseph Rowntree Sr to his son Joseph

S is for Searchroom/Strongroom Duty: This is arguably the most fun, and yet most daunting, part of the traineeship. On a quiet day, I’ve spent most of my time at the computer in the searchroom reception, tackling email and telephone enquiries. But on a busy day, I’ve run to the strongrooms and back multiple times an hour. However, I’ve been able to see first-hand how archives are used by members of the public and enjoyed several joyful experiences of a researcher finding just the information they needed. Doing searchroom/strongroom duty has taught me more about our archival holdings than I could have thought possible, and within a few weeks I knew which part of the strongrooms I needed to be in to find the requested material (most of the time). I also quickly learned that when showing a visitor how to use a digital microfilm reader, there is a diagram on the machine itself, so if I pointed them to it while I explained how to put the reel on, they didn’t know that I’d forgotten how to do it. Finally, I had the joy of using our hanging map cabinets several times. Although it wasn’t ideal that my first experience of using them was at 5pm on a Friday, when I couldn’t get it open properly and then the lid wouldn’t stay up, and I ended up with numerous people trying to talk me through how it works over the phone and then in person. 

Archie in the Searchroom

T is for Teamwork: Teamwork is incredibly important in an archive. As I mentioned elsewhere, my colleagues have given me so many suggestions for records to highlight on social media and provided insights into the life of an archivist. I’ve also had some very team-focused tasks. Just one example is the day an addition to the Alcoholics Anonymous Archive was transferred to the Borthwick. After the archive arrived during mid-morning, it took four members of staff the rest of the day to put all the boxes back into order and move them up a floor to the correct strongroom. It was good fun! (But I wouldn’t want to do it every day.)

U is for University: Although the Borthwick is situated within the Library of the University of York, we don’t just hold University records. We also have archives relating to the church (Church of England and non-conformist), health and medicine, businesses, families, architecture, horticulture, the environment, social welfare organisations, charities, schools, societies, music, writing and performance. And as the trainee, I’ve had to learn everything there is to know about all of these! Well, not quite, but I’ve certainly acquired some knowledge about each of these and added constantly to my learning. But I quickly learned that there was always someone around who knew more than I did, so I shouldn’t be afraid to ask for advice.

V is for Visits: During my traineeship, I’ve had the opportunity to visit other archives (university archives, business archives, museums and local record offices).  These visits have been great times to ask questions and discover something new about the archival profession. It’s easy to become accustomed to one way of working and assume that this is the best way but through visiting other places, I could learn from the systems in place which may work better or worse than what I’ve experienced in my traineeship. Visits are also a great method of networking with other people working in archives. Likewise, training days provided me with the opportunity to meet other archive trainees and gain a more theoretical knowledge of what I do in practice. It was only through a training day that I truly learned just how prestigious the Borthwick is in the field of archives, so I knew that I needed to make the most of my time here!

W is for Wills: The Borthwick holds more than 750,000 probate records, dating from the 14th century to 1858. As the trainee, the 14 aisles containing wills are my domain. At times I love these records; at others I strongly despise them (when I just can't seem to find the one I need). Most people will use Find My Past to request copies of probate documents, but I’ve also learned to appreciate the ease of having full searchroom indices (or is it indexes?) of all probate records. When someone has paid for a copying order, it’s my responsibility to find the will or administration they have requested, digitise it and email/post it out. This does require a lot of time but I quickly got into a rhythm of knowing when I enjoy doing each stage of the process (and being aware of any problems in conservation which might cause a backlog). 

This is how the wills look before they visit our conservators

X is for X marks the spot: By which I mean “treasures”. Every archive has its treasures - those records that get wheeled out time and time again to wow visitors. A 12th century manuscript fragment, a medieval Archbishop’s Register, the baptism register entry for Guy Fawkes, the will of Charlotte Brontë, papers relating to meetings between Lord Halifax (the British Foreign Secretary) and Adolf Hitler, the list goes on. I’ve seen these treasures (and got them out of the strongrooms) several times, yet the wonder never quite fades.

Y is for Yorkshire: The best part of England. Fortunately, I spent my years as a student here in York, so I already had a great appreciation for this wonderful city and the area in which it is found. But through my time at the Borthwick, I have learned so much to make me love it even more. I’ve become more familiar than I ever anticipated with the names of the old deaneries within the Diocese of York, until I could rhyme them off alphabetically: Ainsty, Buckrose, Bulmer, Cleveland… On more than one occasion, when out in the Yorkshire countryside, I would suddenly recognise the name of a small hamlet I was driving through. But why? I racked my brains and then realised that just last week I had located the will of someone who lived there in the 18th century.

Z is for Zest of Lemon: Apologies for the slightly tenuous link here, but as any archivist will tell you, cake is important. Just take a look at #archivecake on Twitter. In my experience, bringing cake/biscuits means your colleagues will love you forever (well, for the rest of the day at least). So - apologies, another tenuous link ahead - I’m going to end my A-Z on a truly soppy note about the wonderful people who work at the Borthwick. They’ve put up with me for more than a year, so they must be pretty amazing and it’s thanks to them that I’ve enjoyed my time as a member of staff at the Borthwick so much!

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