Tag: taxidermy

  • Are you my Mummy?

    Are you my Mummy?

    Birchen Bower in Hollinwood, Lancashire.

    I could not believe my eyes when I first read about Hannah Beswick of Birchen Bower.

    It was not that I could not believe in a ghost story — although that part of the legend I still find challenging — but that I could find a tale with so much in it: haunted houses, buried treasure, invading armies, a real-to-death mummy in the attic, AND find out I had an actual family connection to it all. That was the good news. More disappointing was attempting to investigate further and finding so few primary sources to draw upon.

    The least suprising aspect of this tale was that there was a Dyson component to it. If any family was going to have a haunted house associated with them, it was going to be these Dysons of Lancashire, the siblings of the same James Dyson who was contemporaneously creating a new life for himself in Western Australia during the middle of the nineteenth century.

    A DISMAL autumn evening. The mist hangs heavy on the silent landscape, and wreaths in ghostly folds above the stream. Along the highway rides carefully a man of sober garb and mien, who, passing the ancient Bower House, continues his way to a smaller residence by the river side of Birchen, Lancashire. “So she has left it,” he mutters as he glances back at the ancient residence, now but faintly outlined in the mist. “A goodly property ; and she fears the grave. Ha! who will inherit it, I wonder? And her money ? If rumour speaks truly, she has buried it.”

    “Haunted Ancestral Homes” Illustrated Sydney News, Sat 1 Oct 1892 Page 12 (Trove)

     If an army of hairy Scotsmen were descending towards you in the November of 1745, you would have buried your gold too (and maybe yourself as well, to save time) — you had only to look to history of how the Jacobites treated their own countrymen that last time, to know that no mercy would be shown to a rich Sassenach couple. But spinster Hannah Beswick and her bachelor brother John did survive Bonnie Prince Charlie’s invasion of Manchester with their property unravaged. John had— apparently— almost been buried alive; but his eyelids flickered just as they were about to close the coffin lid. He still predeceased his sister though, leaving her the manor house and farm of Birchen Bower in Hollinwood.

    When she died, so the legend goes, she specified she was not to be interred. So her medical attendant (who did quite well out of her will, thank you very much), embalmed her instead. Dr Charles White was not one to let a good thing go to waste, so he put the old lady on display at his house in a clock case (to be seen for a fee, no doubt). Later on she ended up an exhibit in the Manchester museum. Late Victorian squeamishness eventually saw the poor old mummy buried in an unmarked grave in 1868. She had been above ground for 110 years.

    Section of an Ordnance Survey map of Hollinwood from 1890

    These Beswicks died during the eighteenth century. The Hollinwood manor (but not the farm) passed out of the family’s descendant’s hands during the following century in November of 1834. The next owner (or maybe a tenant) of the manor building was Mr Samuel Wolstenholme, but he was declared bankrupt in March 1836.

    A wing of the house was demolished, and the remainder was subdivided into tenements for cotton-spinning workers. When you consider all the old Lancashire cotton mill buildings now being transformed into supermarkets or luxury apartments during this twenty-first century, you will realise there is nothing new about this form of recycling.

    Almost as soon as the old lady had been embalmed, reports of her ghost had began to be recorded around the old manor house and the adjacent farm. It was part and parcel of the legend of course, that her gold was never officially recovered. Unofficially, some items were recovered by various tenants over time, but none of them seemed to have got rich… or did they?

    Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser 12 October 1839 p1

    Enter the Dysons. James Dyson is out of this story. By the time Mrs Robinson, a descendent of Hannah Beswick on her mother’s side, sold sold the last of the property — James was on a convict ship to Van Diemen’s Land.

    Then during 1839, the same year James’s father Joseph died, there were worrisome reports that Chartists were drilling in the fields outside Birchen Bower. It seemed revolution was in the air.

    Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser 15 January 1859 p7
    Archetypal worker’s dwellings from the early 1800’s. Any ones actually connected with the Dysons have been flattened. 2015

    Fast forward a decade, and it is pretty much obvious that the world did not end in 1839 and at some point between the years 1843 and 1851 Andrew and Joseph Dyson, older and younger brothers of James Dyson respectively moved into the district and operated a cotton spinning establishment named Bower Mill. Andrew, his unmarried sister Mary and her two illegitimate children John and Edwin had taken up residence of Birchen Bower. The codicil to Andrew Dyson’s will made just before his death in 1880 gives a strong indication that he owned the whole place and the Mill as well. Although they had dissolved their partnership a decade earlier, Andrew left the property to Joseph. After that the trail has not been pursued…

    The site of Bower Mill in 2015. Inspiring, isn’t it?

    So did the Dysons mine gold as well as spin cotton? Probably not. But it is fun to speculate. In the late nineteenth century Birchen Bower was demolished to make way for the Ferranti factory (now also demolished.) Bower Lane and Bower Mill were likewise flattened at a later date and a major free way dug across the site.

    Birchen Bower was about here.

    It is frustrating that I have been unable to locate an image of Birchen Bower in any form, or of Hannah Beswick herself (stuffed or unstuffed). It was ancient and had a whitewashed exterior according to an article dating to 1953 (the house, not the mummy). It is curious that while there were ghost sightings of Hannah during the Ferranti factory days, there don’t seem to have been any on the motorway. How odd.

    Birchen Bower as it is now (2015) No ghosts.

    There has been at least one book published on the mummy of Birchen Bower.

  • Stuffed

    Stuffed

    …Ultimately, Yagan was shot by a young farmer named Feast on the Upper Swan, near Belvoir, now the property of Mr. W. T. Loton; Midgoroo being dispatched in a similar manner by a military guard in front of the Perth Gaol, now used as our Public Art Gallery. Yagan’s head is now on view in the British Museum, it having been preserved by Francis Fraser Armstrong, our first official interpreter of the native language, and our first embalmer of animals, birds and reptiles.”

    Western Mail (Perth, WA : 1885 – 1954) Friday 15 November 1918 p 41
    No he wasn’t.
    Francis Fraser Armstrong.

    If your stomach is strong enough, you can read the rest of this foul screed on the trove site by following the link. The article was triggered by the death of the widow of one of the first European botanists to study in Western Australia. His name was John Nicol Drummond, and you would do well to note that I refer to him as one of the first, and as a European botanist in Western Australia. I’m pretty sure Charles Frazer, the Colonial Botanist who accompanied future Governor Lt. James Stirling on the 1828 survey of the Swan River region prior to the foundation of the colony would pre-date him, even if he did completely misrepresent the fertility of the region to prospective settlers. Also the Aboriginal peoples of Western Australia around the South West region, known as the Noongyar, carried detailed botanical knowledge for generations prior to the arrival of the British. Some of their knowledge, particularly that relating to birds and animals, was eagerly sought by the young man Francis Fraser Armstrong, who, while he was the first to hold the formal title of interpreter as employed by the Colonial government, he was by no means the first European to attempt to communicate in the Noongyar language.

    However this article is about taxidermy, which I choose to define as the preservation of birds, reptiles and mammals, often by the means of drying and stuffing, and it should come as no suprise to you by now that the claim to being the first embalmer in Western Australia made for Francis Armstrong in the above article can also be proved to be conclusively false. The motivation of the pseudonymous author of the above article is one of the subjects I explored in my thesis on Armstrong, available to read here, so I will not dwell on it further, other than to observe the author has deliberately conflated the story of Armstrong with one who has a far better claim to be the colony’s first carcase-preserver.

    Inquirer (Perth, WA : 1840 – 1855) Wednesday 25 March 1846 p1 (Trove)

    Armstrong was an amateur taxidermist, as were a number in the colony during its early days of existence. This newspaper advertisement placed by Armstrong himself was for the sale of taxidermy supplies. That there were other stuffers in the public at large must be self-evident as who else could he be selling glass eyes to?

    Western Australian Almanack 1842 (SLWA)

    That he was a skilled embalmer of dead things, particularly of birds, might be demonstrated by his business of selling sets of specimens of the colony’s fauna, advertised as early as 1842, and culminating in a noteworthy exhibition of his work in a colonial exhibition held in Melbourne, Victoria, during 1866.

    Francis Armstrong’s contribution to the Melbourne Exhibition of 1862
    The Inquirer and Commercial News, Wednesday 13 June 1866 p3

    To be fair, Francis Armstrong never claimed any primacy for himself, unscrupulous others did that. Armstrong was only a teenager in when he arrived in Western Australia in 1829, and his first few years in in the colony are well documented as a time of struggle for survival for both he and his family. Among those who have a better claim to be the first documented taxidermist in Western Australia, George Fletcher Moore probably has the best case to make.

    Oh what a jolly fellow is this George Fletcher Moore!

    Moore (1798-1886) was a mediocre Irish lawyer who realised that immigrating in the first wave of settlers to the Swan River Colony opened up the chance of becoming a very big fish in a very small and shallow pool. He arrived in late 1830. So it was that he swiftly acquired some prime real estate in the Swan Valley and a highly lucrative position as one of the Colony’s top law officers. His inflated reputation as a historical figure today rests on the survival of his extensive and candid diaries of the first decade or so of the Swan River Colony’s existence. These were published in edited form both in the contemporary newspapers and as a book Diary of Ten Years Eventful Life of an Early Settler in Western Australia (London 1884). However, I would recommend the reconstructed and unexpurgated version of his writings: The Millendon Memoirs: George Fletcher Moore’s Western Australian Diaries and Letters, 1830-1841 edited by J. M. R. Cameron (Hesperian Press, 2006). It is this version I quote from here:

    …There are many of the same sorts of birds here as at home but differing either in colour or voice – crows rooks magpies cuckoos redbreasts wrens of a beautiful blue, and many others. I thought of making a case of curios, tho but as yet I assure you the necessity of attending to more important concerns supersedes that feeling. I killed a snake and stuffed it – a nameless sort of grey large headed bird, and a beautiful copper coloured heron but for want of time, I see the ants are destroying the skins.”

    Tuesday 28 December 1830. (The Millendon Memoirs, p9)

    So while it is perfectly feasible for another settler or possibly a scientifically minded naval officer to have stuffed something before this, Moore’s diary is the earliest documented example I know of. Moore was not particularly fortunate in his hobby. Many of the specimens he sent back home to Ireland never arrived, and he found himself in close proximity to one particular “specimen” he was unable to add to his collection. Moore’s property was adjacent to that where the Aboriginal warrior Yagan was murdered on 11 July 1833, and Moore made haste to observe the body and admire the handiwork of the embalmer.

    I forgot to mention on Sunday I saw at Mr Bull’s the head of Yagan, which one of the men had cut off for the purpose of preserving. Possibly it may yet figure in some museum at home. I should have been been glad to get it myself.

    Monday 15 July 1833 (The Millendon Memoirs, p258)

    Moore later offered the man who preserved the head and the skin flayed from Yagan’s back (because it had an interesting tattoo on it) a job on his own property as a shepherd. William “Doctor” Dodd must also be another candidate to be Western Australia’s earliest taxidermist.

    I was inspired to write this article after a visit to the State Library of Western Australia where I had the opportunity to have an interesting conversation with a staff member from the Western Australian Museum about what might be the earliest taxidermy specimen in the Museum’s collection and whether any of those specimens were the handiwork of Francis Armstrong. At the same time, I looked at two specimens on display there: A mountain devil (Moloch horridus, the same sort as mentioned above) and a Tawny Frogmouth (Podargus strigoides). Both were beautifully preserved and displayed. Time was taken to explain that both specimens came from creatures that died of natural causes and that no foul play was involved in their procurement.

    A very much alive Moloch horridus as photographed by the author in 2016. The Tawny Frogmouth in the header is one of mine as well.

    Which lead me to think again about the earliest history of taxidermy in Western Australia. George Fletcher Moore regarded the carcase of a man he had enjoyed a conversation with some weeks before (admittedly Yagan had thrown a spear at him)  as merely an interesting subject for his collection, no different to a bird or reptile. I find his callousness and racism abhorrent. While we are in truth all animals, I doubt Moore categorised himself as fauna. Then there was Armstrong. He and his friends in the Noongyar community killed beautiful and rare animals in large numbers so he could stuff them and sell them to collectors. I find this disturbing for among other reasons: the disconnect between his admiring and supposedly respecting nature, then slaughtering it to fill a display case.

    Yet these preserved animals dispersed to collectors and the occasional reputable naturalist and museum all over the world has spread the knowledge of the beauty and diversity of the natural world, all over the world. I myself was inspired by visits to the museum as a child, with their display cases and tableaux of animals in the wild. One avid collector and preserver of dead animals was a young natural historian called Charles Darwin. The skins of birds he collected from the Galapagos were many years after the fact an inspiration to him in his attempts to prove his theory of natural selection. (An irrelevant but interesting fact: Many years after Darwin’s sojourn, the ship he sailed on, the HMS Beagle, was employed to survey the north west coast of Western Australia)

    Finches collected by Charles Darwin from the Galapagos Islands in 1835 are still available to researchers today.

    So when I see a stuffed animal, I may admire the workmanship, I may admire the beauty of the animal itself, I must acknowledge its value as an artefact, but I must also feel disquiet, some discomfort. I think a measure of discomfort is not a bad thing to possess, sometimes.