Grave matters: Penarth Cemetery

Strange as it may seem, I miss not living near Cathays Cemetery, with its depth of history, its park-like grounds, its haven for flora and fauna, and its sense of peace and solitude. I have, however, discovered another cemetery, my local here in Penarth, though it’s only a fraction of the size of Cathays.

According to the Penarth Town Council website, five acres of land for the cemetery were acquired from the Right Honourable Robert George, Lord Windsor, Lord-Lieutenant of Glamorgan and Chief Commissioner of Public Works, on 2 March 1903, though the need for a new cemetery had been signalled many years earlier.

Prior to the opening of the town cemetery, most Penarth burials were in the graveyard around the Church of St Augustine. and as early as 1897 Reverend W. Sweet-Escott wrote to the district council pointing out the need for additional burial space (Evening Express, 20 March 1897). Somewhat surprisingly, the idea of a new cemetery proved to be quite a contentious issue. It wasn’t the cemetery itself that stirred up strong emotions but rather the decision as to whether or not the land would be consecrated, which would affect the cost of a burial. The Nonconformists were not against paying for tombstones, memorials or vaults but disputed the fact that they should have to pay a fee to a rector to perform the burial service.

The cemetery is not mentioned again in the newspapers until 1898, when Cardiff Council tried to amalgamate Penarth with Cardiff, something that was vehemently opposed by the ratepayers of Penarth. Even Cardiff’s promise to provide a new burial ground was not enough to persuade the good people of Penarth (and the town remains separate to this day). 

According to the report in the Evening Express, 21 February 1898,

Mr. A. Mackintosh said that the overtures of Cardiff were premature and pointed to no real advantage. With regard to the cemetery question, Penarth was rich enough to provide its own, and if Penarth people had to take their dead to Cardiff for burial it would simply be adding another terror to death. (Laughter.)

Penarth District Council finally decided to advertise for plans for a new cemetery in April 1901, restricting its call for tenders to Penarth and Cardiff architects only (Barry Dock News, 5 April 1901), though it would appear that nothing came of that advertisement as there is a further report in the Barry Dock News of 11 October 1901 stating that the Council had ‘resolved to re-write the bills of quantity for the proposed new cemetery, and advertise for tenders for same’. It seems much like council matters today – a lot of talk and bureaucracy but not much real action!

The first burial in the new cemetery finally took place in December 1903, and in 1928 the Council acquired a further 2½ acres to bring the total acreage to 7 and the number of burial spaces to 5000. More than one person can be buried in each space, of course, so the most recent burial total stands at over 10,500.

Howver, burial space is once again becoming an issue. On 28 March 2014, the Penarth Times reported that the cemetery was due to run out of burial space in three years – that’s right about now! – so the Council was looking into alternative methods of housing cremated remains. Columbaria, ‘scatter lawns’ and ‘above ground vaults’ were all under consideration, though I haven’t found any reference to a decision in more recent newspapers, and I haven’t noticed any new structures during my visits to the cemetery.

As with most old cemeteries, Penarth’s is an interesting place to explore, for the design and architecture of its buildings and its grave monuments, for the beauty of its wildflowers in the springtime, for the wildlife that inhabits its quiet spaces, and the view from the top of the hill is stunning. I will certainly be visiting again soon.

Auckland walks: Symonds Street Cemetery

Our rather dapper-looking guide, dressed in period costume

Two hours meandering around a cemetery may not be everyone’s idea of a fun Sunday afternoon but it is mine! With a knowledgeable guide to explain the history of the site, to point out heritage flora, to tell the tales of interesting pioneers and to clarify the meanings of gravestone decorations, this resting place of the dead was magically brought to life … and there wasn’t a ghost or zombie to be seen!

The guided walk was part of the Auckland Heritage Festival, an annual event which this year runs from 28 September to 13 October. There’s a programme of events throughout Auckland  – so many, in fact, that it’s difficult to choose which to attend as they all sound great. I’ve chosen to learn more about inner-city Auckland where I live so this will be the first of a few blogs about these heritage meanderings.

With burials dating from the early 1840s, Symonds Street Cemetery was Auckland’s first, though it was closed after just 40 years and, except for additional members of families already buried at the cemetery, deceased central Aucklanders were later interred at the newly opened Waikumete Cemetery instead. This was partly because the city was growing at such a pace that the cemetery grounds were soon surrounded by houses and businesses and partly because the Victorians had become aware of the dangers of disease caused by decaying remains contaminating their ground water.

The cemetery is not as unified as its name implies: there are, in fact, five separate cemeteries, one each for the Jews, Roman Catholics, Anglicans, Presbyterians and Wesleyans, and they are each quite different in character, a reflection of the individual religions’ beliefs about idolatry and the use of decoration. The gravestones of the Wesleyan section, for example, are relatively plain, in keeping with the conservative nature of the religion itself. The Wesleyans were, however, very inclusive – they allowed the burial in their consecrated grounds of those who had committed suicide, which in earlier times was not permitted by Catholics and Anglicans.

The material used for grave-markers ranges from local stone to fine Italian marble, with many graves also surrounded by fences of finely worked wrought iron. Most are not local creations but were brought from Europe – apparently, after the introduction of the refrigerated ships that carried New Zealand produce to Britain, the practice was to fill the hulls of these ships with heavy items like gravestones and iron for the return journey to New Zealand, so much of the ornate marble decoration was actually carved in Italy and only the names of the deceased were added by Auckland masons.

Some years ago I completed a university paper called ‘The Art of Death’, about the iconography of death in Ancient Greece, so I found our guide’s explanations of the gravestone decorations particularly fascinating. For example, did you know that a broken column signifies a life cut short and, if that column has a wreath of flowers or leaves carved around it, then the grave is almost certainly for a young woman? Were you aware that a draped urn was a symbol for the uncertainty of life, or that images of hands being shaken indicate the hands of the deceased and the living clasped in farewell? Did you know that the unusual shape of the passionfruit flower was interpreted as symbolic of the crucifixion, or that the depiction of the tree of life, symbolising a family of several generations, is quite common on Victorian gravestones?

As well as flora carved in stone, the Symonds Street Cemetery also contains some heritage plants, escapees from funeral wreaths and survivors of plants planted by loved ones. Roses ramble over rusty railings (sorry, couldn’t resist the alliteration), camellias have grown into huge trees, and you can even find the occasional burst of bright pink oxalis flower – not the invasive weed all gardeners’ dread, but an ornamental variety commonly grown in Victorian flowerbeds.

The passionfruit flower, symbolic of the crucifixion

I have no personal connection to any of the people buried in the Symonds Street Cemetery – at least, not any more. A 19-year-old great-great uncle was buried in the Anglican section in 1869 but his body was one of the thousands disinterred during motorway construction in the 1960s. But the cemetery is the final resting place of some famous early New Zealanders and of many of Auckland’s founding families. Governor William Hobson lies here, as do many early mayors and businessmen and their families. The remains of Baron de Thierry and several members of his family were amongst those disinterred in the 60s.

As a family historian, I have spent many hours walking around cemeteries looking for ancestors’ graves but these two hours exploring the Symonds Street Cemetery were by far the most interesting yet.