History is so damned hard to get away from. You can’t help but see the structure of the first dock, built outside of London, if you are standing in Queen’s Gardens. Because, clearly, you are stood in a large rectangular plot that is below ground level. Now imagine that space full of water. Yes, you don’t need a vivid imagination, do you?
The spoil from the Dock
Another example occurs when standing at the top of Grimston Street looking down the slope northwards along the street’s length. Its not too hard to guess that the slope you’re stood on exists from the spoil heap derived from digging out the Dock behind you. Simple really.
As Bob Dylan might have said, “you don’t need a historian, to know which way the land lies”. For those who can be bothered to look, the historical aspects of where you stand are present and pervading.
Headstones
When it comes to simple things like reading gravestones in cemeteries it gets even easier. Headstones give you the story; they tell you the who and the when and sometimes, if you’re lucky, the why.
Take the monument in the General Cemetery to the victims of the cholera epidemic in 1849. It states quite clearly why it stands there, how many people died in the cholera epidemic and what percentage of the population of Hull died at the time.
Quite a lot of information really but nothing of the people buried there which is a shame. We have better luck with headstones for individuals. Which brings me to the subject of this little essay.
William Newmarch
Below is the grave of William Newmarch situated in the Sculcoates Cemetery on the south side of Sculcoates Lane. It’s a large kerb set and was possibly erected by public subscription. Why you ask?
Well, William Newmarch, was one of those rare characters that, by luck or good fortune, offer more information to the passer-by than the usual dates of death on their headstones.
The clues from the headstone
If we take a closer look at the stone, we can see that the carving is quite detailed. We can see at the top a laurel wreath surrounding possibly a pike. Just below that we find a carving of a Shako, the headgear that a soldier wore in the early part of the nineteenth century.
This is sited on top of a collection of weapons and other items that peek out such as the barrel of a musket complete with bayonet attached to the left of the carving, the butt of a musket to the right atop of a rectangular object that could represent a cartridge case and finally a small flag with 20th inscribed.
In my best Inspector Clouseau fashion I would perhaps suggest that this grave could hold a military man.
The inscription
Still more becomes evident if we look at the inscription and the surrounding carvings. The inscription reads,
“Erected as a tribute of the filial affection in memory of William Newmarch of this town who devoted 21 years of his early life in the defence of his Country until the close of the Peninsular War after a long life of industry departed this life the 25th of June 1854 aged 83 years also of Ann his wife who died 15th of April 1855.”
The final line is undecipherable but it ends with the name Johan Gustaf.
The battle honours
Surrounding this inscription as I mentioned earlier there are battle honours. These include Maida, Landyke, Egmont Op Zee, Sandhills, Wilhelmstadt, Egypt, Vimiera, Corrunna, Walcheren, Pyrenees, and Badajos.
Finally carved down the sword pointing downwards on the right-hand side of the stone is Alexandria. The spellings are taken from the stone although some of them are spelt differently today.
His life
William Newmarch was not, as the stone would have us believe, “of this town” or was he? He was, in fact, born in Beverley in 1768 as he stated in the 1851 census form or was he? All clear so far?
Unfortunately, there was no William Newmarch born in Beverley that year. There was however a William Newmarch born in Hull in 1765 to Presbyterian parents. So yes, he was of this town. He worked as a blacksmith before his enlistment and that took place on the 17th of July 1799.
He enlisted in the 20th Foot Regiment of Infantry or East Devonshire’s. This is surprising as the 15th East Yorkshire’s would perhaps have been more accessible.
His campaigns
The 20th Foot Regiment fought throughout the Napoleonic Wars. It was present at the invasion in 1799 of Walcheren in Holland and fought at the battles of Krabbendam and Alkmaar that year.
Returning to Britain the 20th then set off to counter Napoleon’s Egyptian adventures. The regiment fighting in the battle of Alexandria in 1801 that all but ended the French hopes in Egypt.
In the Peninsular War
The regiment relocated to the toe of Italy in 1806. The battle of Maida was another British victory it was involved in. In 1808 the regiment arrived in Portugal and fought at the battles of Vimeiro in 1808 and Corunna in 1809. The former was a victory fought under the Duke of Wellington. The latter however was the culmination of a disastrous retreat for the British. Their commander, Sir John Moore, died during this retreat.
William Newmarch was one of the lucky ones who managed to be transported back home to Britain. About 6,000 of his colleagues were not so lucky. This was a very hard retreat; even some officers were reduced to wrapping blankets around their bare feet on the way to the port.
Demobilisation
By the time the regiment returned to action William had served his time and was now part of the 1st Reserve Battalion. This was a regular battalion but made up of veterans and used mainly for garrison duties either in Britain or in colonies. William’s battalion served for two years in Britain and then served for about a year in Holland after which it was disbanded on the 12th of July 1814 and William left the service the following day.
In all he had served 14 years and 359 days in the British Army during a period of constant warfare and at a time when the serving soldier’s treatment was little short of barbaric. It was a time when the slightest infringement could earn the soldier a whipping and where the merest wartime injury could entail the loss of life, as the medical support for the troops was negligible. As the Duke of Wellington was reported to have told Earl Stanhope in 1831, “Ours (our army) is composed of the scum of the earth” and they were treated as such.
Walcheren Fever
William did not come through his wartime experiences untroubled. His discharge papers state that he was suffering from “Walcheren Fever”, a type of malaria and typhus fever that cost the British dearly in their ill-fated invasion of Holland in 1809. In 1810 when the troops withdrew there had been a loss of over 3900 soldiers and 60 officers. Some 6 months later there were still 40% of the force registered as sick.
Wartime injuries
It was also stated that William had lost his left eye but as to the cause I’m afraid the handwriting on the form has defeated me. So, William left the service minus an eye and probably with a body weakened by its brush with the fever. Still he was able to claim his Army pension for 40 years, which may have comforted him somewhat. Upon discharge he was described as “about 46 years old”, “swarthy complexion” “dark brown hair” and “5 feet 7 ¼ inches tall”.
Family life
On the 21st of December 1823 William married so his injuries may not have been so horrific. This lady’s name was Ann Crosier. She at least could write her name unlike William who left his mark. William was calling himself a farmer at this time and was 58 years old. Of course, the marriage was simply the icing on the cake as this couple had had a baby, Mary Ann, some two years previously so the marriage was simply adding a veneer of respectability to their relationship. This probably helped their other children too, John Leonard born in 1812 and Ann Elizabeth born in 1817. At both of these baptisms he describes himself as a soldier of a foot regiment. This situation may go to clarifying the discrepancy between the 14 years and 359 days on his discharge with the 21 years inscribed on his tombstone.
Death
By the 1841 census he was living with his wife Ann in Snowden’s Square off Broadley Street, a squalid tenement now subsumed under the Wilson Centre on Alfred Gelder Street. His occupation was still a blacksmith. In 1851, the last census he took part in, he was now living in Little Queen Street. He stated he was a Chelsea Pensioner and alongside him were his wife Ann, his daughter Anne Elizabeth and a granddaughter Lavinia who was the daughter of John Leonard although he lived elsewhere. William was living at this address when he died. His wife died the following year. In her obituary entry it stated that her husband had been a coachbuilder, a fact that is stated nowhere else in this man’s life.
A Napoleonic reminder
So here we have a piece of history that takes us back to before the battle of Waterloo, to the age of Napoleon, to the Brown Bess musket, to the soldier who fought for a “shilling a day”, to the age of charging Cuirassiers, infantry squares, cannons firing round shot or grape and the Iron Duke. An important link one may say with the past. And here it sits, in this decaying graveyard, gradually becoming more and more difficult to read with each passing year and each year a little bit more lost to us.
The cycle of history
Go visit it. Touch the stone and think about the celebrations we have had over the past few years regarding the Great War. Realize then perhaps that you’re as close as you can get to the remains of someone who fought in Belgium and France 100 years before Tommy Atkins did. History is so damned hard to get away from if you bother to look around. as I said at the beginning of this piece.
This grave, the marker of one man’s death, furnishes us with a snapshot of that time period over 200 years ago now. Which leaves us with one last mystery: what part did Johan Gustaf play in William Newmarch’s life? And you know what, sometimes you can look very hard and still find out nothing so I’m afraid I’m no help with this query but please don’t let me stop you. Let me know how you get on; I’m dying to find ou