Dead Places

I was wondering as my train left Woking this afternoon, as I often do, why Rookwood in Sydney was called Rookwood and not Brookwood. The thing is, the station straight after Woking is Brookwood.

At Brookwood is a big cemetery which was placed there in 1849 after London ran out of usable burial plots. A special burial train, which had its own station near Waterloo, would have a coffin loaded on then chug off through the countryside on the occupant’s final journey. It then had a small branch line that led off into the cemetery itself, leaving the main line near Brookwood. These days you can step off the train on the south side and walk straight into the graves. If you want.

Brookwood, the town, has grown considerably since the cemetery was plonked on its southern side but it’s been there from at least the Anglo-Saxon period. It is claimed that the name comes from the Anglo-Saxon word for badger (Brock) and, therefore means ‘Badger Wood’. Because of this, you see the badger symbol everywhere in Brookwood. Anyone looking for a brook will be sadly disappointed.

I’m not sure how the people felt about having their town designated the biggest burial ground in the United Kingdom but one could assume it didn’t hurt the economy.

Oddly, among the notable graves, is that of Sarah Eleanor Smith. Looking like an amazing glimpse into the future of celebrity, she was the wife of the captain of the Titanic. That’s her claim to fame.

On the other hand, Rookwood in New South Wales, has nothing to do with Brookwood, rooks or badgers, although it was created because of a lack of burial places in Sydney. It was originally called Haslam’s Creek Cemetery, after the town close by. A chap called Samuel Haslam originally owned grants along the creek. However, when the cemetery opened (1867), the residents didn’t like being associated with it so, rather than keeping the name of the town, they chose the title of a novel by William Harrison Ainsworth. I have no idea why! Perhaps it was someone’s favourite novel. Anyway, it was called Rookwood after the book.

Then an odd thing happened. Rookwood became the name of the area and the town, as well as the cemetery! Clearly the residents (another lot, obviously) were not best pleased at, again, being associated with graves, so they changed the name of their town to Lidcombe. This name is an amalgamation of the surnames of two aldermen (Lidbury and Larcombe).

As we all know (or should) the cemetery train ran from Mortuary Station, near Central, straight to the cemetery platform at Rookwood. Exactly the same as Brookwood but half a world away. Rookwood is, apparently, the largest cemetery in the southern hemisphere, sort of like Brookwood.

The novel Rookwood is a gothic novel about a manor house called Rookwood Place. A legend is attached to the old place that should a branch fall from a certain tree then someone from the family would die. This happens to one of them and a whole series of convoluted events occur culminating in two Rookwoods being stuck in a tomb, trapped and dying. All sounds very melodramatic. Interestingly, Dick Turpin, the highwayman, appears in the novel. It looks like an interesting, if somewhat Victorian, read. You can find a digital copy here.

There seems to be a lot of dying in the book, so maybe that’s why ‘they’ chose the name.

Anywho, that’s my history lesson for today, which clears up something I’ve wondered for years. I really like the fact that it’s merely a coincidence.

Also, I’m feeling much better today. Nicktor’s coming over tonight, though, so I may end up going back a few steps in the healthy race tonight.