Batt & Lee Ancestors: Second Edition

By Dean Batt Cleverly

A collection of personal and family histories of William B Batt (1888-1959) and Hazel Jane Lee (1894-1993) and some of their ancestors and descendants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257237746

Book preview

Index

Preface to the Second Edition

Two of the heroes in my life were grandmothers: The first was my maternal grandmother, Hazel Jane Lee Batt Pledger (1894–1993). She had a profound influence on my young life. The second was a great-grandmother, Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926). She died 23 years before I was born. I knew her only through the history she wrote, but I have long been fascinated with and inspired by the story of her young life in England, her conversion to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and her emigration to Utah.

My own mother, Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982), was a daughter and granddaughter of these two faithful women.

These three matriarchs, representing three generations of Batt women—together with some of their ancestors, husbands, and descendants—form the heart of this collection of family histories and recollections.

The original collection has been expanded with additional material that came to light after it was originally published. The changes in this second edition include:

The addition of a brief history of Orrin Strong Lee Sr. from Hiram T. French’s History of Idaho: A Narrative Account of Its Historical Progress, Its People and Its Interests (which appears as chapter 8).

The addition of a history of the early life of Hazel Jane Lee based on notes I took after interviewing her in the 1960s (chapter 12).

The addition of a tribute I wrote concerning Hazel Jane Lee Batt’s inspiring me to serve as a missionary (chapter 17).

Moving some of the front matter (the pedigree chart and list of ancestors) to appendices at the end.

The reordering of a few of the other chapters.

The addition of Appendix C.

A thorough edit to correct various misspellings, typographical errors, and format quirks.

An update of the table of contents and the index.

We trust this enlarged and revised collection will be a record worthy of all acceptation (D&C 128:24). As I opined before, there may even be some relatives out there who have stories not contained here. We would be happy to make this collection even more complete.

And, as I also wrote before, we can be grateful for the heritage we have received from these noble ancestors. They were men and women of uncommon faith. Their deeds declare devotion to the Savior’s name. Their lives are worthy of our emulation.

Dean B. Cleverly

November 26, 2010

Preface to the First Edition

A couple evenings ago I received a phone call from my cousin Kenna. She is a daughter of my mother’s youngest sister, Berniece Batt Palmer. Kenna wanted to know if I had or knew the whereabouts of family records and pictures that our grandmother used to have. I told her I did not. After my mother passed away in November 1982, I inherited her collection of nearly half a century of diaries and a few family records. Not much in the way of pictures. After my brother Ray passed away in May 1990, I received his genealogical records. But, no, I did not have what she was looking for. Nor did I know who did.

I mentioned to Kenna that through the years I had been collecting some histories of our Batt and Lee ancestors and would be happy to send her copies of what I had. Over the next few days I started snooping through my computer files and found twenty-four of the items that make up this collection. Histories, tributes, letters, and blessings. Even a funeral sermon. I was amazed that I had as much history as I did.

Subsequent searching through the boxes I inherited from my mother and brother provided two additional items that I was not previously aware of having. They appear in this collection as chapters 23 and 24 [chapters 26 and 27 in this second edition]. I also found some of the photographs that are now included in this book. Maybe I had some of the pictures after all.

As I was pulling the material together, it occurred to me that probably every branch of our grandparents’ family—the Cleverlys, the Toveys, the Batts, and the Palmers—would appreciate receiving such a collection as this. So, I organized it into this little book. The more people who have a copy, the more likely the records will be preserved and handed down to future generations. And there may even be some relatives out there who have stories not contained here. We would be happy to make this collection even more complete.

Some of the histories here, such as the different sketches that mention Dr. Ezekiel Lee, contain conflicting dates, names, and details. We have simply included the histories as they have come to our attention without any effort to reconcile apparent discrepancies. For example, the sketch on Ezekiel from Frank Esshom’s monumental work, Pioneers and Prominent Men of Utah (see chapter 5), states that Ezekiel came to Utah on October 1, 1850, in the Aaron Johnson Company. He also lists Ezekiel’s death as 1878, although all other sources list it in 1877. The history of Ezekiel we found on the Internet (see chapter 6), which was more detailed than anything we previously had, says that Ezekiel first traveled to Utah in late 1848, stayed nearly a year, then returned to the Midwest for his family, and they all arrived in Utah on September 12, 1850.

Interestingly, the Mormon Overland Trail page on the Church website says that Ezekiel, his wife Elizabeth Strong Lee, and other family members (including our ancestor Orrin Strong Lee, who was twelve years old at the time) left Winter Quarters on June 5, 1848 and arrived in the Salt Lake Valley September 20–24, 1848, as a part of the Brigham Young Company of that year.

Such discrepancies aside, it is clear from these stories that we can be grateful for the heritage we have received from these noble ancestors. They were men and women of uncommon faith. Their deeds declare devotion to the Savior’s name. Their lives are worthy of our emulation.

Dean B. Cleverly

January 18, 2005

Scenes of the river Itchen in southern England, as memorialized by Eliza Brazier Batt in her history:

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"Mornings were beautiful in the Itchen Valley, where flows the beautiful river Itchen. The green lanes about the village were resplendent with wild flowers and trees. In the twilight the nightingales would sing and in the soft, balmy evenings the old church bells would ring out, calling the people to worship. Their silvery tones would peal out to the weary traveler:

e9781257237746_i0004.jpg

Lord, thy glory fills the heavens; Earth is with its fulness, filled unto thee. Be glory given, holy, holy, holy Lord.

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Chapter 1

Little English Country Girl

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote this autobiographical sketch sometime during 1917 or 1918, when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. A more complete account of her life after coming to Utah can be found in the companion sketch, Charles Batt: Gentleman Farmer (see chapter 2). The two poems at the end were appended to Eliza’s history and appear to have been written by her.

Eliza was born August 30, 1864, in Headbourne Worthy, Hampshire, England, the daughter of James Brazier (1813–1884) and Mary Ann Vince (1826–1900). She married Charles Batt (1861–1949), son of George Batt (1824–1876) and Hannah Ray (1831–1912), on June 7, 1884. She died February 13, 1926, in Logan, Cache County, Utah, at the age of 61. She was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959).

IN THE LITTLE VILLAGE of Headbourne Worthy (in the county of Hampshire, near Winchester, in the south of England) in the year 1864, there lived a hard-working man named James Brazier and his good wife Mary Ann. They worked hard to make ends meet. Their family was large, but both James and Mary Ann were contented and happy as each little one came. They both felt they had none to spare.

Mornings were beautiful in the Itchen Valley, where flows the beautiful river Itchen. The green lanes about the village were resplendent with wild flowers and trees. In the twilight the nightingales would sing, and in the soft, balmy evenings the old church bells would ring out, calling the people to worship. Their silvery tones would peal out to the weary traveler:

Lord, thy glory fills the heavens;

Earth is with its fulness, filled unto thee.

Be glory given, holy, holy, holy Lord.

e9781257237746_i0006.jpg

Eliza Brazier Batt

One summer’s evening, as the bells ceased ringing, a tired looking man came along the street and entered a gate leading to a well-kept garden where hollyhocks grew five and six feet tall, where peace seemed to reign. James, though tired, was cheered by the feeling of peace and the welcome he knew he would receive from Mary Ann in their humble four-room cottage. As he entered the door, Mary Ann met him with a cheerful smile. Taking from him his dinner pail, she asked, How are you, James? It is such a long way for you to walk. I know you must be tired.

The humble meal was spread in the well-kept kitchen with its red brick floor and wide chimney corners, with the fire dancing up the chimney from an open grate, and the cheerful sound of the kettle singing, and the table spread with a clean white cloth and light bread and golden butter, and the old grandfather clock tick, tick, ticking away in its corner. The little cricket held its own with its merry chirp, chirps, and the window filled with plants—which seemed always to be in bloom—gave a spirit of peace pervading. As the family partook of the humble meal, a prayer of thanks arose to the Giver of all for blessings received.

All retired to rest at an early hour, for James worked in the early morning hours caring for the little plot of ground that furnished the good housewife with the best kind of vegetables.

On August 30, 1864, another daughter came to their humble home. They named me Eliza, after Mother’s youngest sister.

Six years quickly passed away, and I was sent to the village school with my sister Jane. Frightened at the other children, I clung to Jane and begged to be allowed to sit with her, but the teacher said no and got angry and whipped me with a cane, which nearly broke my heart. My brothers never ceased to tease me about being whipped the first day I went to school.

By the time I was eight years old, I was able to read fairly well. It was the custom in the school that every child who could read a chapter from the Bible without a mistake was presented a nice new Bible at Christmastime from a lady by the name of Courtray. I received my Bible and was very proud of it. At eight I also joined the children’s choir at St. Swithun’s church. Every Sunday found me in my place in the choir, unless sickness prevented. The choir children were always very neat in appearance with brown linsey dresses, black hats trimmed with blue ribbon, and cloaks of grey.

Time passed so swiftly away. When I was ten years old, I was taken into the parsonage to learn to work. I was trained to do housework and cooking at the home of the Reverend J. H. Slessor, rector of St. Swithun’s. At the rectory were ten in the family, and five servants were kept. My training began by learning to help wait at table, of which I had such a dread because of my many mistakes. One circumstance I will never forget: a dinner party was given in honor of Lady Lucy Woodhouse, who having recently returned from South Africa was visiting at the rectory. The dishes were very hot and full, and I accidentally spilled gravy on Lady Lucy’s dinner dress. I felt so bad, but Lady Lucy looked at me so kindly and said, Never mind, Eliza. It was said so quietly and kindly that no one noticed the accident. I always loved Lady Lucy for her kindness to me.

After two years’ training as a housemaid, I was taken to the kitchen to learn to cook and where I loved to be. Mrs. Slessor, the mistress, took a great interest in me and did everything to encourage me. Because Mrs. Slessor was such a good lady, I was brought up almost as one of the family. Every night she saw that I was in bed by half past nine and never allowed me out after dark. Every Sunday morning I attended the Bible class she held for her own children and at eleven o’clock marched with all the other school children two by two to church—no talking allowed.

When fourteen, I was prepared for confirmation, one of the most serious things of my young life. Twice a week found me and fifteen others in a class at the rectory, each one of us having to learn and recite the Apostolic Creed, the catechism, and the St. Athanasian Creed, and having to know so much about the Bible. At last the day arrived when I was to be confirmed. I walked to the village church with my mistress. Not a word was spoken, this experience being looked upon as the most sacred thing in my young life. Clothed in a light dress and cap and veil, the gift of my mistress, I arrived at the church. The Bishop of Winchester officiated. Each of us took her place without a word as the organ pealed forth, Onward, Christian Soldiers, Marching as to War. At the altar rail sat the bishop with his long white gown and large white sleeves. With a feeling of awe, I arose in my turn as we walked quietly two by two and knelt down in front of the bishop. How my heart rejoiced! I offered up a prayer that I might always be good. The choir sang—

Soldiers of Christ, arise and put your armor on

Strong in the strength which God supplies through his eternal Son.

Never will that day be forgotten. I was not allowed to work on that day. One of my schoolmates, a boy I had known all my life, brought me a lovely bunch of violets, which were taken away for fear my thoughts would be taken away from the seriousness of my confirmation.

When seventeen, I left the rectory and went to London to be a kitchen maid in Sir Thomas Waller’s family, where fourteen servants were kept. My work was in the kitchen under a French cook. Everything being strange, it took me some time to get used to the ways of the people. The house was a beautiful mansion in Eaton Square. My mistress Slessor and the Lady Waller had been girls in the same school and were very great friends—a word of recommendation gave me the situation.

Leaving the little country village, never having been in a large city before, I felt almost lost as I arrived at Vauxhall station. There was such a tremendous amount of traffic that my heart almost failed me. I had been told what to do before leaving home (my mother, having a perfect horror of my going to London but not wanting to hinder me from such a good situation, parted from me with oftrepeated entreaties not to speak to strangers). After I arrived at Vauxhall station, you can imagine how very shy and timid I was when up came a stately gentleman inquiring if I were going to Sir Thomas Waller’s Eaton Square. A fine carriage was waiting; Lady Waller had sent the butler to meet me. He was very kind, pointing out the places of interest as we drove along. At Eaton Square the carriage stopped at a stately mansion and a livered servant came out and took my trunk. There among thirteen other servants, the little country girl became a favorite.

After staying in London three months, I left and returned home to engage as cook in the family of William Chanpron Streatfield, an independent gentleman having eight sons and two daughters. The sons were in college at Cambridge. When vacation day arrived, it seemed as if a cyclone had struck the house—all was bustle and excitement. The mistress, giving orders here and there, almost danced for joy because