tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19392362784970576882024-03-16T01:13:07.046+00:00North Yorkshire Historyfrom Hutton Rudby to Stokesley, Guisborough, Whitby ... and beyond the county ...
Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.comBlogger599125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-60637937763672382142024-01-27T08:00:00.001+00:002024-01-27T08:00:00.239+00:00Carrying coal by donkey<p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"There are those yet in Cleveland who can remember coals being conveyed into the country across the backs of donkeys."</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">wrote John F Blakeborough in his newspaper column on 14 May 1904. Two Hutton Rudby men were, he said,</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"perhaps the principal coal carriers in Cleveland."</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">John Fairfax-Blakeborough (1883-1976), as he was later always known, was at the beginning of his career as a well-known journalist and author. Like his father Richard, he had a great interest in North Riding history, tales and dialect, and he had a column called 'By-Gone Cleveland' in the <i>Northern Weekly Gazette.</i> This cheery weekly paper, with its household tips and Children's Corner, was popular with Hutton Rudby families who must have been particularly interested in this story. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The older villagers will have known all about the two men concerned and they will have recognised a mistake in the names. Blakeborough gives the names as George Dickenson and John Bowran, but they were actually George Dickinson and John Bowman.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">They were "ass-colliers" by occupation and they were married to sisters. John Bowman had married Margaret Best, daughter of papermaker Martin Best, in 1838. George Dickinson married her sister Ann in 1840. The two families lived near each other on Enterpen until the Bowmans moved round the corner onto South Side.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Before the railways came, Blakeborough explained, coals were brought into Cleveland by donkey all the way from Durham, a two days' journey. After the Stockton & Darlington Railway opened in 1825, the coals were brought from the Durham coalfields to Yarm.</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"They had droves of donkeys, and all in a line about twenty or thirty of these would start away for Yarm in charge of one or two men, and headed by a pony as their leader. At each side of them was a bag resting on a pad, so that when the bags were filled the weight would not rest on the unprotected backs and produce a sore. Each animal carried 16 stones of coal, and the mules 24 stones." </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">(Mules can carry much heavier loads than horses or donkeys, <a href="https://www.thedonkeysanctuary.org.uk/all-about-donkeys/breeds/mules-and-hinnies#:~:text=Mule%3A%20The%20result%20of%20a,mating%20with%20a%20female%20donkey" target="_blank">cf The Donkey Sanctuary's explanation</a>.) </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The 16 stones of coal – 2 hundredweights (102kg) – and the 24 stones for the mules were accurately measured out at Yarm at the start of the journey. People in Hutton Rudby thought that by the time the sacks reached them, the bags were mysteriously lighter and they got short measure.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">When they reached journey's end at Hutton Rudby, George Dickinson and John Bowman turned the donkeys out on the village green. In the morning they would round them up and start back for Yarm. If they had to stop somewhere else and spend the night away from home, they didn't hesitate overmuch before turning the animals out into someone else's field. They could be on their way before anyone detected them because they had their leading pony well trained. They could summon it with a "peculiar blowing noise" and it would make for the gate, all the other animals following behind, and the procession would be on the road in no time.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">A couple of newspaper reports show that this didn't always work. In fact, it was always rather risky. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">On 20 May 1843 John Bowman had been working with Joseph Richardson, an older collier who lived on South Side. William Hugill, a tenant of Lord Feversham, had found their donkeys grazing on his farm in Bilsdale and had gone to the magistrates. The charge was that they had "wilfully and maliciously consumed the grass" in William Hugill's fields "by depasturing a number of ponies, mules and asses therein." They were fined two guineas plus costs.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Towards the end of their careers John Bowman and George Dickinson were caught out twice in a matter of weeks. In May 1866, P.C Smith found them letting 6 mules and 3 asses stray on the highway for three days. George was fined 5 shillings with 9 shillings costs, and John 5 shillings and, for some unexplained reason, 18 shillings expenses. At the beginning of July the animals had been found on the highway again and the two men were again up before the Bench. Unsurprisingly, the fines were heavier – four times heavier. George had to pay £1 plus costs of 8 shillings and sixpence and John was fined £1-2s-6d (one pound two shillings and sixpence).</p><p style="text-align: justify;">George died three years later, in his late fifties. John outlived him by eight years, dying aged 72 in 1877.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSrEeWluKFdWiNk6xTJPpTPPODGmERu8BGxsxvlhjl3HS4ITL0RI-r6VUjHMIWw-rE-9fFtQu3cXHmoXTCIsRkQqAnDJ_hPcx6kgnpglIxMUQJWccnD5tzEG3pLHMwte7oimO6sKn0mfH2INKXjO8bpOSb-4zXW6CwYoIyFZGPki_N49fBmZ7_xQDs4k/s580/Durham%20Donkey%20Sanctuary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="397" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSrEeWluKFdWiNk6xTJPpTPPODGmERu8BGxsxvlhjl3HS4ITL0RI-r6VUjHMIWw-rE-9fFtQu3cXHmoXTCIsRkQqAnDJ_hPcx6kgnpglIxMUQJWccnD5tzEG3pLHMwte7oimO6sKn0mfH2INKXjO8bpOSb-4zXW6CwYoIyFZGPki_N49fBmZ7_xQDs4k/w137-h200/Durham%20Donkey%20Sanctuary.jpg" width="137" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://durhamdonkeyrescue.co.uk/" target="_blank">Durham Donkey Rescue</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Court cases reported in<br /><i>The Cleveland Repertory</i>, 1 June 1843<br /><i>Richmond and Ripon Chronicle</i>, 2 June 1866<br /><i>York Herald</i>, 7 July 1866</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>The Cleveland Repertory and Stokesley Advertiser </i>was a Stokesley newspaper launched by printer <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/12/chapter-16-melancholy-intelligence.html" target="_blank">William Braithwaite in 1843</a> </div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-70941645444926134842023-12-31T08:00:00.044+00:002023-12-31T08:00:00.128+00:00New & Good Things: Alfred Hopkinson, 1930<div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjyJoPK5NVbeR2RrTfoh-wVU_wlpZN6ZJVNGYM67HqJyrXEnQ-QTeU0_jdshrLexVALjiui5WAdz-N7nKBXZhGnNznPZ0Am8levd8sA9JNXbz9y2dku1PWQiHZVPtknnq2PLO77ACmPfyJGdVqyVspllWrGINMfUGQlOKj1RXXXH5srJV_ZjeQmxEwOCE/s2323/Alfred%20Hopkinson%20(4).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2323" data-original-width="1456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjyJoPK5NVbeR2RrTfoh-wVU_wlpZN6ZJVNGYM67HqJyrXEnQ-QTeU0_jdshrLexVALjiui5WAdz-N7nKBXZhGnNznPZ0Am8levd8sA9JNXbz9y2dku1PWQiHZVPtknnq2PLO77ACmPfyJGdVqyVspllWrGINMfUGQlOKj1RXXXH5srJV_ZjeQmxEwOCE/w126-h200/Alfred%20Hopkinson%20(4).JPG" width="126" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Alfred Hopkinson (1851-1939)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">When <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred_Hopkinson" target="_blank">Alfred Hopkinson</a>, barrister, academic, MP and keen alpinist, wrote his memoirs in 1930, he ended one chapter with three lists. He was 80 years old and looking back over the changes he had seen since he was a boy. Here are his lists – perhaps readers will be inspired to make their own.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><b>New & Good Things</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Electric Lighting<br />New Universities<br />Short Skirts<br />Third Class on Express Trains<br />Telephones<br />Typewriting<br />Bathrooms with Hot & Cold Water<br />Underground Electric Tubes<br />Trained Nurses<br />Merciful Administration of Criminal Law<br />Mixed Bathing<br />Improved Sanitation<br />Woollies for Children<br />Boy Scouts<br />Girl Guides<br />Taxi-cabs<br />Afternoon Tea<br />Spring Wire Mattresses<br />The Salvation Army<br />Improved Anaesthetics<br />Antiseptic Surgery<br />Lawn Tennis<br />Sunday Opening of Libraries and Museums<br />Grape Fruit<br />Co-operative Holidays<br />Push Bikes<br />Lavatory Carriages<br />Flannel Shorts for Men<br />Charity Organization<br />Better Architecture<br />More Platonic Friendships<br />Wireless Telegraphy<br />Lighter Meals<br />Less Drunkenness<br />Workers' Educational Association<br />Wider Knowledge on Sex Matters<br />Garden Cities<br />Sun-bathing<br />Cushions in Third-class Carriages<br />More Daffodils<br />Pneumatic Tyres<br />The National Trust</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>New & Bad Things</b><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Four Shillings Income Tax<br />Cocktail Parties<br />Cubists<br />Boëcracy (Government by shouting and big headlines)<br />Psycho-analysis<br />Vanity Bags<br />Oxford Bags<br />Road Hogs<br />Educational Theories<br />Post Impressionists<br />Bigger Gambling Sweeps<br />Ugly New Roads<br />Ugly Sculpture<br />Plus Fours<br />More Litter<br /><i>Vers Libre</i><br />Want of Discipline<br />Newspaper Stunts<br />Too much Talk on Sex<br />Submarines<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Bad Things Which Have Disappeared</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b>Bed Curtains<br />Tight Lacing<br />Fundamentalism<br />Materialistic Dogmatism<br />Black-plumed Hearses<br />Funeral Crape Bands<br />Black Kid Gloves for Men<br />Compulsory Drinking<br />Chignons<br />Peg-top Trousers<br />Long Services in Churches<br />Crinolines<br />Sandbags for Windows and Doors<br />Mrs Gamp<br />Pomatum<br />Internal Drains<br />Waste Pipes without Traps<br />Elastic-sided Boots<br />Heavy Neck Stocks<br />Concealment on Sex Questions<br />Long Bathing Gowns</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Alfred Hopkinson (1851-1939), my great-great-grandfather, was the son of John Hopkinson, engineer and Mayor of Manchester, and Alice Dewhurst, daughter of John Dewhurst, cotton spinner of Skipton. </div><div style="text-align: justify;">(<a href="https://theengineeringhopkinsons.blogspot.com/2023/07/introduction-john-hopkinson-and-alice_02005191319.html" target="_blank">See 'The Engineering Hopkinsons'</a>)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Penultima</i> by Sir Alfred Hopkinson (1851-1939), pub. Martin Hopkinson (1930)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-18773685415379878242023-12-09T08:00:00.001+00:002023-12-09T08:00:00.137+00:00Cockfighting in Hutton Rudby & Stokesley<p style="text-align: justify;">In 1903 <a href="https://archives.shef.ac.uk/agents/people/503" target="_blank">Richard Blakeborough</a> (1850-1918), celebrated collector of North Riding folklore, wrote an article for a cheery weekly family newspaper called the <i>Northern Weekly Gazette</i> about cockfighting in the village of Hutton Rudby.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZhPzkmul7gMzGwgYlZzN3Rxqra-o2-qgbhmOfZ5K-r7j7ToY3cJRNTNIUx2Rw_J4LNiEhYEOHcZoufaILRnB0bs854ICeCBLyWekAaH3K6rr9a9oFB5S6iJrVzkyatmM-zaJ1xTA-W79b_JG_lCpDk8yDOCmkI9yG7VAc-UPYGVqL3JFgwX_qP_wgPk/s1804/Cockfight%20in%20London%201808,%20Rowlandson.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1318" data-original-width="1804" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZhPzkmul7gMzGwgYlZzN3Rxqra-o2-qgbhmOfZ5K-r7j7ToY3cJRNTNIUx2Rw_J4LNiEhYEOHcZoufaILRnB0bs854ICeCBLyWekAaH3K6rr9a9oFB5S6iJrVzkyatmM-zaJ1xTA-W79b_JG_lCpDk8yDOCmkI9yG7VAc-UPYGVqL3JFgwX_qP_wgPk/w400-h293/Cockfight%20in%20London%201808,%20Rowlandson.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Cockfight in London: c1808</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>He had written on the subject before and he knew that cockfights hadn't stopped as soon as they were banned in England in 1835 (they haven't stopped yet), but now he had been contacted by Richard Robinson, a 68 year old retired farmer living in Old Battersby, who had anecdotes to tell him.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">You can see from his article that Blakeborough enjoys the old North Riding dialect most of all. He was a dialect enthusiast, well known for his recitations and writings. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">He begins</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">As late as 1850, many a main was fought in or near to that village on a good Sunday morning. And one Robert Dorking, a weaver about that date, possessed a bird of such note that on many occasions it was matched to fight some of the best birds in the North. These contests came off somewhere in Newcastle, whither Dorking tramped from Rudby with his bird. </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">(Robert Dorking's name was actually Robert Dalking, so I'll alter the name accordingly from now on)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The people of Hutton Rudby always knew, even before Dalking got out of the bed the next morning, when his bird had won.</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"It was like in this way," </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">said Richard Robinson, </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"when Dalking's cocks lost, for he sometimes used to hug as many as four on his back – his missus used to come out with her head lapp'd up in a shawl, looking that dowly and never a word for nobody. She used to creep along with her head down, an' were as cross as a bear with a sore head. But when Dalking came home victorious, she was out with her best hood, fleeing all over the village to spread the good news; there was no ho'ding her back at such times."</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Robert Dalking often took his friend Dick Charlton's birds with him to Newcastle and other places. They used to train their birds together and often matched them against each other for practice. <p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">This was a favourite spectacle for other villagers. They used to roar with laughter as they watched Robert Dalking. He leapt when his bird leapt, struck out with his heel and flapped his arms as if they were wings. He was so eager and excitable he never noticed that he was imitating his bird exactly and he never noticed the hilarity of the witnesses.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Once he was plodding along with his favourite bird in a basket on his back when he passed a farmyard. As he went by, a farmyard cock gave such a loud crow that Dalking's bird answered the challenge from inside its basket. The farm bird couldn't let this pass. It leapt over the hedge and began to follow Robert Dalking, at last flying in a rage at the bird in the basket. Dalking stopped and said,</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"Whya thoo knaws, if thoo's 'tarmined to feight, feight thoo s'all; an' Ah aim fer yance 'at thoo'll git summat 'at thoo nivver bargained for."</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">A lad from the farm saw the fight start and ran to his master and mistress</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"Oh, measter! Oha, mistress! there's oor black-breasted, red-necked, yaller-heeled cock feighting another yan, an' oor yan's giten neea chance, for au'd Nick's ticing tother yan, an showing ont hoo ti rise and strike. It's reet what Ah's telling o' ya! for Ah've just left him, louping, flapping, striking, and dildering, all roads fer Sundays. Its reet! an' if ya deeant ho'd to be trew all 'at Ah say, gan oot an' see fer yersens"</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">"Aud Nick" is, of course, the Devil. Or, in this case, Robert Dalking. But by the time the farmer and his wife got there, all they saw was their own bird looking dishevelled in the road and Dalking disappearing with his basket into the distance.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Another anecdote involved a clergyman – who might have been the Revd Robert Barlow of Hutton Rudby, as we know he loved to <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/12/chapter-21-my-intense-exertions.html#more" target="_blank">follow the hunt</a> and may well be the sporting pastor here:</p><p style="text-align: justify;">"A clergyman of sporting tastes" happened to surprise Dalking and friends having a friendly match on a Sunday. He reproved them for spending the Sabbath so, saying how wrong it was to urge the poor birds to fight.</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"Nay," said Dalking, "they'll feight, parson, wivoot onny urging; if we set two tigither tha'll feight for sartin." </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">"Is that so?" said the clergyman, knowing that it was.</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"It's true, hard eneeaf. Just you watch 'em," </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">said Dalking, setting down two cocks, which began instantly to fight. Everyone including the clergyman watched eagerly. "I am fully convinced, Dalking," he said at the end, "of the truth of what you said."</p><p style="text-align: justify;">To which one of the company slyly said, </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"Ya'll nut tak' it ill parson, when Ah say, what y teeak a vast o' pleasure i' being convinced"</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Interest in the topic of cockfighting didn't die away. A year later Richard Blakeborough's son John Fairfax-Blakeborough wrote on the subject again in his own 'By-Gone Cleveland' column in the <i>Northern Weekly Gazette</i></p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"There is yet at Stokesley the remains of an old cock pit, and Mr William Moon Wrightson, of that town, told me some time ago that when he was a young man cock-fighting was indulged in – principally on Sunday morning. The cock pit to which I refer was on the premises of the Bull and Mouth Inn. My informant – a well known poultry fancier – has himself seen birds matched here, and another informant tells me that in his youth cock-fighting was indulged in at Hutton Rudby by one or two people – his father included"</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Notes</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Richard Robinson (c1836-1919) was born in Hutton Rudby to a Rudby-born farmer William Robinson. Richard grew up on his father's farms as the family moved from tenancy to tenancy (as a farmer gained in experience over the years, he would be offered better and better farms). They lived first in Hutton, then at Middleton Grange, Middleton-upon-Leven and lastly at Shotton, Co Durham. Richard himself farmed at Hornby Hall, at Foxton Village, Co Durham and at Town Farm, Ormesby before retiring with his wife Elizabeth Morrison to Old Battersby. He died aged 85 and is buried at Ingleby Greenhow.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Robert Dalking (1817-93) was the son of Robert Dalking, handloom linen weaver. He was born in Hutton Rudby and worked as a weaver for some years. By 1861, with handloom weaving a thing of the past, Robert and his wife Elizabeth Wilkinson were working as Game Watchers on the Skutterskelfe and Rudby estate for Lord Falkland. By 1871 they had moved to Gunnergate near Marton, where he became head gamekeeper at Gunnergate Hall. He and Elizabeth spent the rest of their lives at Gunnergate. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Dick Charlton – there were many Charltons in Hutton Rudby, but I can't identify this one.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">William Moon Wrightson (c1844-1923) was a Stokesley-born joiner and the son of a Stokesley master joiner, Stephen Wrightson. He lived with his wife Sarah Passman on West Row, Stokesley.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I can't find a Bull and Mouth Inn in Stokesley. There was a well-known inn of that name in Leeds, but White's Directory of 1840 lists only the Black Bull and the Bull and Dog in Stokesley. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Richard Blakeborough's article appeared in the <i>Northern Weekly Gazette </i>on 25 April 1903 and John Fairfax-Blakeborough's article on 16 April 1904.</p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-4259297918858720522023-12-03T08:00:00.001+00:002023-12-03T08:00:00.138+00:00Christmas recipes from Hutton Rudby, 1896<p style="text-align: justify;">The <i>Northern Weekly Gazette</i> was a cheery weekly newspaper with editions published in Middlesbrough, Guisborough, South Bank, Stockton, Darlington and West Hartlepool. Advertisements declared that</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>"The Northern Weekly Gazette is the most interesting and readable penny weekly paper in the North, and contains as much general reading as many shilling books"</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">It certainly was popular among Hutton Rudby families. It only cost a penny and there was something in it for everybody – national and local news, local sports reports, household hints, recipes, jokes, serialised stories, pages for children, contributions welcomed and prizes to be won.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mary Williams and her family were keen readers of the Gazette. She was born in about 1856 in Hovingham and was married to a Welshman, Thomas Williams, who was coachman for the Blair family at Drumrauch Hall, their country house a little way outside Hutton Rudby. Some time between the summer of 1895 (when their daughter Gladys was born) and the beginning of December 1896, the Williams family moved from Norton-on-Tees to one of the cottages by the entrance to the Hall on Belbrough Lane. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIKFfyCVbQ5YLry24CyDH8B4_ph36hD1HJ1yWJz7TPmR__xoKPryt9dw_8tgkWP9SgFZRKw0m0lFAo8MyIXYZCoYHVzcUHpZNUdvF9F5ewt2nMuLEXjsgRaUyi5reW2PS7aN6h0xdAEUImwefXZ0GGP13QSgVVOyUkv0-aOjBwHiyMDgiHpNGbWXNolM/s1010/Drumrauch%20Hall,%20OS%201911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="1010" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIKFfyCVbQ5YLry24CyDH8B4_ph36hD1HJ1yWJz7TPmR__xoKPryt9dw_8tgkWP9SgFZRKw0m0lFAo8MyIXYZCoYHVzcUHpZNUdvF9F5ewt2nMuLEXjsgRaUyi5reW2PS7aN6h0xdAEUImwefXZ0GGP13QSgVVOyUkv0-aOjBwHiyMDgiHpNGbWXNolM/w400-h231/Drumrauch%20Hall,%20OS%201911.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Drumrauch Hall, O.S map revised 1911 <br /></span><a href="https://www.nls.uk/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">National Library of Scotland</span></a></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">These are two Christmas recipes sent in to the newspaper by Mrs Williams in 1896:</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><i></i></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Northern Weekly Gazette, Saturday, December 5, 1896</i><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">Christmas Mince Meat</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Six nice apples, 2 lb currants, 1 lb Sultana raisins, 1 lb stoned raisins, 1½ lb moist sugar, ½ lb candied peel, 1 lb suet, 1 teaspoonful mixed spice, the rind of two lemons, the juice of one, 2 tablespoonfuls of orange marmalade, 1 teacupful of brandy; chop the apples and suet very fine, grate the lemons, mix all well together, press into a stone jar, cover air-tight; ready for use in a fortnight</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;">A Good Family Christmas Pudding</div><div style="text-align: justify;">1 lb breadcrumbs, ½ lb flour, 1 lb currants, 1lb Sultana raisins, 1 lb Muscatel raisins, 1 lb suet, 1 lb moist sugar, ½ lb mixed peel, 6 eggs well beaten, the rind and juice of a lemon, 2 oz powdered almonds, 1 teaspoonful of mixed spice, 1 teaspoonful salt, 1 teaspoonful ground ginger, 1 glass of brandy. Mix all well together; boil for 8 hours. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: right;">Mrs Williams, Drumrauck Cottage, Hutton Rudby, Yarm</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div>Thomas and Mary spent the rest of their lives in Hutton Rudby. They are buried in the churchyard there.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-52697896993819955572023-10-28T08:00:00.002+01:002023-10-28T08:00:00.142+01:00Dark nights in Great Ayton: 1889<p style="text-align: justify;">This sad little story is a reminder of village life before street lighting. We are so conscious of light pollution nowadays, we can forget the hazards of the past.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">That admirable woman <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2019/02/mrs-annabel-dott-goathland-homes-for.html" target="_blank">Mrs Annabel Dott</a> wrote on the subject after her experiences <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2019/02/7-annabel-patrick-dott-wwi-cottage.html" target="_blank">among the rural poor of Dorset</a> during the First World War. She had been shocked and dismayed by their conditions and wrote about it in 1919 with great feeling. Being a practical person, she saw where matters could be improved and one issue was lighting: </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">Lighting is another important rural matter. The dark roads make traffic difficult if not impossible after sunset, and during long evenings when there is no moon it is not an easy matter for old people, women, or delicate folk to get about. One of the attractions of the town is the brightly lit streets ...</blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Joseph Longstaff was a Great Ayton man born and bred. His father John had been a weaver and the parish clerk, and Joseph became parish clerk in his turn. He began his working life as a tailor but for many years ran the village Post Office, with a grocery shop alongside.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In 1889 he was 69 years old and working as a tailor again and as assistant overseer for the parish. He lived with his wife Mary and 11 year old son Edward on the High Street.</div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Northern Echo, 25 October 1889</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Missing from Great Ayton<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Considerable anxiety is being felt at Great Ayton on account
of the mysterious disappearance of the Clerk of the Parish (Mr Joseph
Longstaff).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </p></blockquote><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It appears on Friday evening
he left home in his slippers and never returned, and nothing has been heard of
him since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The night was excessively
dark, the weather tempestuous, and an unusual amount of water was rushing down
the River Leven, which flows through the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> It is very much to be feared that he has
missed the bridge and fallen into the water, in which case the body would probably
be carried for miles, so strong was the current at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </p></blockquote><blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Mr Longstaff was an old inhabitant of Ayton,
and much respected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was for many
years postmaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The village is in
total darkness during the evenings of the winter months.</p></blockquote><p>This wasn't the only tragedy that autumn, and the question of lighting was clearly on people's minds. This happened less than a week later:</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Daily Gazette for Middlesbrough, 31 October 1889</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Another Fatality at Great Ayton</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Some time during last night Henry Peacock, late stationer and newsagent, was drowned in the River Leven at Great Ayton. His body was found early this morning under the stone bridge. His death furnishes another sad argument for the necessity of lighting up the village. </p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">For a while the problem was solved and the village was lit by gas but, in the summer of 1896, the Friends' School changed to electric lighting, the gas works were discontinued and the village was dark again. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">At the beginning of the new century, several town councils were experimenting with a new invention called the Kitson Lamp, which was invented by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Kitson" target="_blank">Arthur Kitson</a>, an Englishman who had moved to the USA.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">His lamp used petroleum and a carbon mantle similar to those used in gas lamps. The petroleum was held in a metal reservoir some distance away and drawn up to the lamp under air pressure through a very fine copper tube. When it reached the part of the tube that was inside the lamp, the heat of the mantle vaporised it and was lit by an ingenious device that did away with the need to climb up to the lamp on a ladder. As only a very minute quantity of oil was subjected to heat at any one time, even if the tube was broken there was no chance of an explosion. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It was described enthusiastically in the press as a brilliant and beautiful light, the nearest approach to pure daylight and more pleasant to the eye than electric light. Not only that, but it cost under a penny an hour and no underground plant or digging up of the streets was needed. The gentlemen of Great Ayton decided to install one:</p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Daily Gazette for Middlesbrough, 6 March 1901</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Lighting of Great Ayton</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mr Henry Richardson and Mr Thompson, trustees to the manorial rights of Great Ayton, have, with other local gentlemen, aided Mr John Dixon to place on the High Green at Great Ayton a Kitson patent 1,000 candle-power lamp. The lamp lights the whole of the green, and has been so successful that it is hoped that before long the whole village will be illuminated. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></p></blockquote><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Since the gas works at Great Ayton were discontinued on the Governors of the Friends' School having electric light instituted the village has had no illumination at all. It is hoped by the tradesmen and inhabitants generally that a number of the lamps will be procured not only to light the road as far as the stone bridge, but also for California.</p><p></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-70171920313500029202023-07-22T08:00:00.003+01:002023-10-10T09:39:50.805+01:00Defective bottles at Seaton Sluice: 1835<p style="text-align: justify;"><i>A chance find which has turned up among my family's papers – a furious letter about defective bottles. No idea how it ended up in a solicitor's offices in Middlesbrough …</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">On Thursday 23 July 1835, a young man called John Latimer Nichol dashed off an angry letter to a Mr John Jobling of Seaton Sluice, the busy little port close to the village of Hartley in Northumberland.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">John Latimer Nichol was a 28 year old merchant, born in Gateshead and working in the City of London. Among their other business ventures, he and his father Anthony Nichol were in partnership with Ingleby Thomas Miller from Shincliffe, Co Durham as Nichol & Miller, bottle merchants in London. New stock for their warehouses was shipped in bottle sloops to their premises at Dowgate Wharf on the Thames, near today's Cannon Street Station. There was a booming market for bottles in the capital.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Nichol & Miller's bottles came from the North East, where the vast majority of glassmaking was carried out – there were bottleworks on the Rivers Tyne and Wear and the Northumbrian coast, supplying customers across the world. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The region had all the advantages of cheap coal for the furnaces (glassmaking was a very convenient sideline for colliery owners) together with established shipping routes and easy availability of raw materials. In 1790, the North East mostly made wine and claret bottles but when, during the 1820s, bottled beer began to be exported to hot climates, the manufacturers began to produce beer bottles. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBLwErVrILYOnl0tg1pne0I26KkHVXkM2pblNL95y4-CGKWPPHFpixEKWWnbgyJhQibS67LTjU3rETbOTH3ChltJM_RNH0el0RiI_ZfN4KtNa5Tf0uX8CUeOk5znkAZiqj3TK-nvhpVZljG_C3BpaBdXq73jg4-ATOd-xHqIQcgAcCmiED_EwcCWD/s1257/Seaton%20Sluice%20Bottleworks.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1257" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBLwErVrILYOnl0tg1pne0I26KkHVXkM2pblNL95y4-CGKWPPHFpixEKWWnbgyJhQibS67LTjU3rETbOTH3ChltJM_RNH0el0RiI_ZfN4KtNa5Tf0uX8CUeOk5znkAZiqj3TK-nvhpVZljG_C3BpaBdXq73jg4-ATOd-xHqIQcgAcCmiED_EwcCWD/w400-h226/Seaton%20Sluice%20Bottleworks.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's possible that Nichol & Miller dealt exclusively with the bottleworks at the bustling seaport of Seaton Sluice, acting as their London outlet.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Jobling, who would soon receive this angry letter, came from a family that was of very considerable importance in Seaton Sluice. He was the son of James Jobling who, in partnership with John Carr, had been running the Hartley coalmines since 1809. They had prospered and, besides their collieries, brewery and malt kilns, Mr Jobling and Mr Carr had taken over the Hartley Bottleworks in 1820. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The works had been founded at Seaton Sluice by Thomas Delaval in 1763 and had swiftly grown into a huge concern – production had reached 1,740,000 bottles a year by 1777. The following year, the first of three cone-shaped bottle houses was built to replace the old square buildings, their more powerful draught enabling more efficient furnaces. There would be six of them eventually, dominating the skyline for the next 150 years and useful as sea marks to sailors. </div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynsr-gZCCCs-36cD6FJ-WchtGjKT56P5ytESSkwrQqGbmr_oId65xULi3fBsT3KpnOW_A-ix9sZIZlY4jUgT8KALAkfJv9gB1fZh90X4DCrrR46HqTzkVTaM3y0knGyHx0prMJoz01QSKTSzVtLkKKeHj1BaxxntcubkhgxU9vhpU2YX26TtCk0rj/s1458/Seaton%20Sluice%20OS%201896.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="1458" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynsr-gZCCCs-36cD6FJ-WchtGjKT56P5ytESSkwrQqGbmr_oId65xULi3fBsT3KpnOW_A-ix9sZIZlY4jUgT8KALAkfJv9gB1fZh90X4DCrrR46HqTzkVTaM3y0knGyHx0prMJoz01QSKTSzVtLkKKeHj1BaxxntcubkhgxU9vhpU2YX26TtCk0rj/w640-h256/Seaton%20Sluice%20OS%201896.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Seaton Sluice: OS 1896 <br /><a href="https://maps.nls.uk/copyright.html#noncommercial" target="_blank">CC-BY National Library of Scotland</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">In 1835 John Jobling was agent for the bottleworks of Messrs John Carr & Company. Aged 42 and unmarried, he lived with his widowed mother and spinster sisters at the large, thatched Jacobean house called Seaton Lodge. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This was originally the home of the Delaval family and was later occupied by the Delavals' land agent. It was a picturesque old house, described in John Robinson's <a href="https://co-curate.ncl.ac.uk/historical-account-of-seaton-lodge-1894/" target="_blank"><i>Illustrated Handbook to the Rivers Tyne, Blyth, & Wansbeck</i></a><i> </i>in 1894 in glowing terms – this was 22 years after the bottleworks and its smoky chimneys stopped work:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>The situation of the house is all that can be desired, sheltered on all sides from the storms of the coast, the views from its windows up the charming dene, the sheet of water flowing in front of its terraced walks; while behind is one of those old fashioned gardens which delight the eye of all lovers of romantic landscape gardening.</blockquote></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcc4c4N4JcHtoaVKlIJr4EMe--ULK3dpXRz8sCyRV33wrRIW2lWqObCTcsPo7e2LfL4-pROt3DDJW2wOQHcN4HO3QN478t5Z8F4uNv0aanjQrUaWfHG8HuHNQydj_yjDsV3p_yeSssRqg6tMR4DCPKiuDGvKEociNrxvR7DoaZCn5KGw1UnIK2dwcp/s872/Seaton%20Lodge,%20Seaton%20Sluice.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="872" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcc4c4N4JcHtoaVKlIJr4EMe--ULK3dpXRz8sCyRV33wrRIW2lWqObCTcsPo7e2LfL4-pROt3DDJW2wOQHcN4HO3QN478t5Z8F4uNv0aanjQrUaWfHG8HuHNQydj_yjDsV3p_yeSssRqg6tMR4DCPKiuDGvKEociNrxvR7DoaZCn5KGw1UnIK2dwcp/s320/Seaton%20Lodge,%20Seaton%20Sluice.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Seaton Lodge from <i>A History of Northumberland</i> 1893</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Latimer Nichol wrote in such haste that his handwriting is a scrawl and he made a mistake with the date, giving it as 23 June 1835. (It looks as though a later hand, possibly that of John Jobling himself, has corrected this to 23 July). The letter was posted that very day and is marked</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Z</div><div style="text-align: center;">JY 23</div><div style="text-align: center;">1835</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7w61ZsNWwuqhPkKkP7Mv5YcfT9D4NM-RYCnUAmaE7DIyNO3ocWQeyS9Dz4139YzdbQl9jfRsFCbnhueVFUUkkrN-geuSntWn6Fn4VqZc7BYVKgcdeC6WAj42qFsixXpctTmHdteMjTgyzS4STu0L0D_P4b0ftYw2dvllOeZLKsrtrMPkUUD_6kUP/s2048/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(1).JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7w61ZsNWwuqhPkKkP7Mv5YcfT9D4NM-RYCnUAmaE7DIyNO3ocWQeyS9Dz4139YzdbQl9jfRsFCbnhueVFUUkkrN-geuSntWn6Fn4VqZc7BYVKgcdeC6WAj42qFsixXpctTmHdteMjTgyzS4STu0L0D_P4b0ftYw2dvllOeZLKsrtrMPkUUD_6kUP/s320/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(1).JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He had just returned from a meeting with an important customer, who had sent for him to explain why they wouldn't be buying from Nichol & Miller in future. John Latimer Nichol couldn't blame him. He had been shown the product of one of his major rivals, and the difference in quality between Jobling's bottles and those bought from Cookson & Coulthard of South Shields was all too obvious. Jobling's goods were not only inferior in colour and finish, but they were noticeably lighter and they gave way "at the shoulder". John Latimer Nichol wrote bitterly, </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>It is of little use our holding a stock of bottles which is only saleable till Mr Coombs or Mr Coulthard walk in & shew theirs</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This was the third large business house whose custom they had lost and he wasn't going to order from Seaton Sluice again unless John Jobling could assure him that they would match the quality of bottles from <a href="https://twsitelines.info/SMR/2340" target="_blank">Cooksons of South Shields</a> and from Ridleys of Newcastle.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">He asked John Jobling to meet his father Anthony Nichol in Newcastle to see </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>if some thing cannot be done to meet our opponents in this matter for I have no fancy for carrying on my business at a rivals sufferances</blockquote></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUN3ULE4mueaSJopNwMFPmzgAsbXt5nfoR-N4yNB4U_i0_v61EnjrBZT_w0odiNcTRGB8jEqMP9DnqXB0-5ROC2N6H5TOM1h_-GXWWkaSawnva7x_dcsWsqGXTOUqIWts7fKB4FAxFnuKg5D4v_rGQ7ZARRh2h3ROSYxao5QIB_2IL0DvAqev-p4XO/s2048/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(2).JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUN3ULE4mueaSJopNwMFPmzgAsbXt5nfoR-N4yNB4U_i0_v61EnjrBZT_w0odiNcTRGB8jEqMP9DnqXB0-5ROC2N6H5TOM1h_-GXWWkaSawnva7x_dcsWsqGXTOUqIWts7fKB4FAxFnuKg5D4v_rGQ7ZARRh2h3ROSYxao5QIB_2IL0DvAqev-p4XO/s320/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(2).JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is John Latimer Nichol's letter – in some places I have had to make a guess at a word, and I've marked this with square brackets. </div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He begins with a note of a "Fresh Order" for the bottleworks – 150 dozen olive bottles with long necks and some large pottle bottles. A pottle bottle held 4 pints or half a gallon. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">John Jobling, Esq.,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Seaton Sluice</div><div style="text-align: justify;">near North Shields</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fresh Order</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Wanted</div><div style="text-align: justify;">150 dozen Olive qty – long necks & hollow [printed/fronted]</div><div style="text-align: justify;">immediately</div><div style="text-align: justify;">& some Pottle Bottles 145 oz ordered 25 June – We have [some/more] to go on with –</div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8sxKU7Ce_2MhrWmj743oQqPVeRd_WDH6kcvyVxXb8NwojM65zrQpbNUqV8LKur7fe4qBQlFb7SCNu-bML6qRUKHTwhAeMGlZrhGdM_GTaVLsto6yThG8i65SnuvVSSFTXNa-JUQwGP6oEuRMNG0btxUsDaXlwWLtMQfZ9EHKUq1CsVd0waYXNHW76/s2048/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(3).JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8sxKU7Ce_2MhrWmj743oQqPVeRd_WDH6kcvyVxXb8NwojM65zrQpbNUqV8LKur7fe4qBQlFb7SCNu-bML6qRUKHTwhAeMGlZrhGdM_GTaVLsto6yThG8i65SnuvVSSFTXNa-JUQwGP6oEuRMNG0btxUsDaXlwWLtMQfZ9EHKUq1CsVd0waYXNHW76/s320/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(3).JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"></span><blockquote><span style="text-align: justify;">London 23rd June /</span><span style="text-align: justify;">July/</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> 1835</span></blockquote><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Dear Sir,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have tonight written to my Father with a list of Bottles which we want, but we cannot positively order them till we know whether you can produce them of the same blue Cast as Cookson & Coulthard & Ridleys Co. do – for it is of little use our holding a stock of bottles which is only saleable till Mr Coombs or Mr Coulthard walk in & shew theirs – </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have today been sent for to one of our principal customers for larger bottles – & the bottles he shewed me of Cookson & Co's make were so superior in colour, finishing about the mouth &c – that I did not wonder at his leaving us – Besides I weighed 3 Round Pottles – 2 of Cooksons weighed 3 lb 4 oz & 3.6 – Unfortunately whilst ours weighed 2.4 of the same size (145 oz)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is not therefore to be wondered at that ours should give way in the shoulder – This is the third large House whose Custom we have lost from the inferiority of our bottles in Colour (more especially) – & finishing – </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Be good enough to see my Father in Newcastle on Saturday – you will probably find Mr Miller there also – and let us know if some thing cannot be done to meet our opponents in this matter for I have no fancy for carrying on my business at a rivals sufferances – </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">I am dear Sir</div><div style="text-align: right;">Yours truly</div><div style="text-align: right;">for Partners & Self</div><div style="text-align: right;">John L Nichol</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTm8z71WY7sVGOA6LvkUnr61Cgmho0lfGfXOZD2MKRLYxmn9JP-AYdO8VydbqXBxBa8JeDrjlN6_uVmttpbzzS9SXFtiGY9youNMi2AbdEZu7CjSL5E6Bzbkqa0dWK6oYmyNdOUQkJuVMV_A2Z371HkZn1MnasQ0CYOP9XJD0U51Spou9eGIUbJXK/s2048/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(4).JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTm8z71WY7sVGOA6LvkUnr61Cgmho0lfGfXOZD2MKRLYxmn9JP-AYdO8VydbqXBxBa8JeDrjlN6_uVmttpbzzS9SXFtiGY9youNMi2AbdEZu7CjSL5E6Bzbkqa0dWK6oYmyNdOUQkJuVMV_A2Z371HkZn1MnasQ0CYOP9XJD0U51Spou9eGIUbJXK/s320/Nichol%20to%20Jobling%201835%20(4).JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, we don't know the outcome of his letter …</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Further notes</b></div><div><br /></div><div>The picture of Seaton Lodge is from <a href="https://archive.org/details/historyofnorthum09nort/page/160/mode/2up" target="_blank"><i>A history of Northumberland</i></a> (issued under the direction of the Northumberland County History Committee) 1893</div><div><br /></div><div>For the extract from John Robinson's <i>Illustrated Handbook to the Rivers Tyne, Blyth & Wansbeck</i> (1894) see <a href="https://co-curate.ncl.ac.uk/historical-account-of-seaton-lodge-1894/" target="_blank">here</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.genuki.org.uk/big/eng/NBL/Earsdon/Sluice1828" target="_blank">Pigot's Directory 1828/9: Seaton Sluice, Northumberland</a></div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Seaton Sluice, or Seaton Delaval, is a small sea-port and township in the parish of Earsdon, in Castle ward, about three miles and a half south of Blyth, and is remarkable for its harbour, which is considered a great curiosity, being completely the work of art; the entrance to it from the German ocean is by a deep canal, cut out of solid rocks, and guarded by immense locks. Vessels of three hundred tons burthen can lay here completely sheltered from all winds, beneath high grounds, by which this dock is surrounded. The coal trade here is the chief business, besides which there are extensive bottle works, belonging to Messrs. Carr and Co. and a large brewery of Messrs. Jobling and Co. About a mile to the west is Delaval park, the property of Sir Jacob Astley; the hall was destroyed by fire, together with a greater part of the splendid furniture, on the 3rd of January, 1822, and it remains now in ruins. In 1821, 240 inhabitants formed the population of this township, but the number has increased since that period to nearly 400 persons.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Carr, John & Co., coal owners, merchants & bottle manufacturers – John Jobling, agent</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Gentry & Clergy: Jobling, John, esq.. Seaton lodge </div></blockquote><div><b>1839 Robson's London and Birmingham Directory & in the 1843 Directory</b></div><div></div><blockquote><div>Nichol & Miller, Bottle merchants, Dowgate wharf, Upper Thames st</div><div>Nichol A. & Son, Merchants, Dowgate wharf, Upper Thames st</div></blockquote><div><b>Anthony Nichol of Newcastle (c1783-1852)</b></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anthony, the son of Anthony Nichol, was baptised at Gateshead on 22 April 1783. He married Elizabeth Latimer, the daughter of John Latimer of Kirklinton, Cumberland and they had several children.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He is described as a Wharfinger (the keeper or owner of a wharf) in the parish register for his son John Latimer Nichol's baptism, moved for a time to London and later returned to the North East and became a managing partner of the Newcastle Broad and Crown Glass Company. He died on 14 May 1852 at Number 5 Jesmond High Terrace, where he and his family had lived for some years. </div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Gateshead Observer, 15 May 1852</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At No 5, Jesmond High-terrace, on Friday (yesterday), aged 69, Anthony Nichol, Esq., JP</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Anthony was buried in Jesmond Old Cemetery. He was one of three Anthony Nichols, all related to each other:</div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Newcastle Journal, 5 March 1836</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To readers and correspondents</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mr Anthony Nichol – We learn that considerable inconvenience has arisen from our having accidentally omitted to state, in our last, that the worthy Councillor of the above name, to whom we then made allusion, on the subject of the attack upon this paper, is Mr Anthony Nichol, broker, Quayside, and who resides at the Spital Tongues. Mr Anthony Nichol of the Crown Glass Works is one of the Magistrates, whilst Mr Anthony Nichol, chemist, of the Quayside, has no connection with the Corporate Body. All the three gentlemen are relatives</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>John Latimer Nichol (1807-63)</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Latimer Nichol was born on 14 August 1807 and baptised at Gateshead on 10 September 1807, the son of Anthony Nichol, wharfinger, and Elizabeth, daughter of John Latimer of Kirklinton, near Carlisle.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He married his first cousin Caroline Stephens Latimer on 11 July 1838 at Headington near Oxford – the story of their lives can be found here at <a href="http://www.headington.org.uk/history/famous_people/latimer_biographies.pdf " target="_blank">The Latimers of All Saints Parish in Oxford and Headington</a> by Stephanie Jenkins</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Latimer Nichol died on 6 November 1863 at the age of 56. He was buried at the West Norwood Cemetery</div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Durham County Advertiser, 13 Nov 1863</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In London, at De Crespigny Park, Denmark Hill, on the 6th inst., after 16 months of intense suffering, John Latimer Nichol, Esq., only son of the late Anthony Nichol, Esq., of Newcastle-upon-Tyne</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Ingleby Thomas Miller (1788-1856)</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ingleby Thomas Miller was the son of Mr Ingleby Miller of Shincliffe. He was born on 9 August and baptised on 17 September 1788 at St Oswald's, Durham.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He is described in the censuses, directories and newspaper notices as, variously, a coal merchant, coal factor, brewer and corn factor. In the 1841 and 1851 censuses he can be found in London living at 12 Upper Bedford Place in Bloomsbury with his wife Dorothy and their sons Ingleby Thomas Miller junior (a solicitor), Ambrose (a merchant) and younger children Mary, Ann and Charles.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He died on 30 December 1856:</div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Durham Chronicle, 9 January 1857</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">30th ult., Ingleby Thomas Miller, of 12 Upper Bedford Place, Russell Square, aged 69</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>John Jobling (1793-1849) of Seaton Sluice</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Jobling and his brothers and sisters were the children of James Jobling (1763-1826) and Susanna Lambert (1773-1853). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">James Jobling was a colliery viewer (that is, manager) when he went into business with John Carr, who had farmed at Ford in Northumberland. They took the lease of the Hartley coal mines in 1809 and, colliery owners and merchants, they took on the glass works at Hartley in 1820; their company ran the bottle works until its closure in 1872.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Jobling was baptised at St Peter's, Wallsend on 17 November 1793. By the time his sister Isabella Margaret was baptised on 3 June 1811 the family had moved to Seaton Sluice and she was baptised at Earsdon parish church.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">James Jobling died on 1 October 1826</div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Newcastle Courant, 7 October 1826</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On Sunday last, at Seaton Lodge, James Jobling, Esq. in his 64th year, universally esteemed and regretted. His remains were accompanied to the grave by a great concourse of relatives and friends, including a numerous body of workmen and dependants, whose unaffected grief bore testimony to the great loss they had sustained</div></blockquote><div>John Jobling continued to live at Seaton Lodge with his widowed mother and unmarried sisters Mary, Susan, Dorothy and Isabella. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">His life was not without excitement – he had a narrow escape in 1832 as a notice in the <i>Newcastle Chronicle</i> of 24 March makes clear</div><div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">about 7 o'clock in the Evening of Wednesday, the 7th Day of March instant, as Mr John Jobling of Seaton Lodge was riding on his Way Home from Walker, when in the Lane leading from the North Shields Turnpike to Long Benton, in the County of Northumberland, he was maliciously shot at and wounded by some evil-disposed Person or Persons unknown … </blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The large reward of 200 guineas was offered for information on the "evil-disposed Person or Persons" with the King's Pardon for anyone who actually turned the perpetrator over to justice, </div><div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">Such Reward to be paid on Application to Messrs Carr and Jobling; or Messrs Swan and Hemsley, Solicitors, Newcastle upon Tyne.</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Jobling died on 22 March 1849 in Newcastle at the age of 56; his sisters continued at Seaton Lodge for the rest of their lives. They were still there at the time of the appalling disaster at Messrs Carr Brothers' <a href="https://www.nmrs.org.uk/mines-map/accidents-disasters/durham/new-hartley-colliery-shaft-accident-hartley-1862/" target="_blank">Hartley Colliery</a> in 1862. Mary and Susan were alive to see the end of the bottleworks in 1872 and lived into their eighties; Susan was the last survivor, dying aged 84 in 1886. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Jobling sisters are celebrated in the entry on Seaton Lodge in the <i>Illustrated Handbook to the Rivers Tyne, Blyth, & Wansbeck</i>:</div><div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">the last residents associated with [Seaton Lodge's] history being the Misses Joblings, who have won for themselves an undying fame for their acts of charity and native patriotism; they also had the unique honour of being the two best swimmers in the North of England, and in summer and winter took their daily dip in the sea, with a swim of half a mile out or along the coast.</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They had become local celebrities.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Glass making</b></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/153775793.pdf " target="_blank">The development of the glass industry on the Rivers Tyne and Wear, 1700-1900</a> by Catherine Ross</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.seaton-sluice.co.uk/Bottle-Works/ " target="_blank">Seaton Sluice and Old Hartley Local History Society: The Bottleworks</a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.blythtown.net/articles/seaton-sluice-bottleworks-95" target="_blank">Blythtown.net: Seaton Sluice Bottleworks</a> </div><div><br /></div><div>Fine photos and a great deal of information on the <a href="https://fabulousnorth.com/seaton-sluice/ " target="_blank">Fabulous North</a> website</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://sha.org/wp-content/uploads/files/sha/Parks%20Canada/pc_english_4.pdf " target="_blank">Cylindrical English Wine and Beer Bottles 1735-1850</a> by Olive R Jones, Studies in Archaeology Architecture and History (Canada)</div><div><br /></div></div><div><i>The letter is now at the Northumberland Archives</i></div><br /><div><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-39472822840396513872023-05-20T08:00:00.001+01:002023-05-20T08:00:00.135+01:00A Year's weather: 1895 by John Megginson<p style="text-align: justify;">1895 – the year when Oscar Wilde was sent to gaol, when Middlesbrough Football Club won the FA Amateur Cup, Alfred Dreyfus was sent to Devil's Island, the future George VI was born and, in Bavaria, Adolf Hitler had his sixth birthday.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The year had begun, according to the pages of the Whitby Gazette, with the usual entertainments and concerts held by churches, chapels and societies. In the months that followed, golf clubs opened at Whitby, Robin Hood's Bay and Goathland. Ships were wrecked, lives were lost at sea and in the local mines. Two men died in a thunderstorm at the Royal Show at Darlington, a father and son in a lightning strike at Kirkbymoorside. The people of Helmsley were horrified to discover that the attentive young father, on holiday with his wife and baby, had murdered them both with a large carving knife and buried them a few miles outside town. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">And the year's weather on the North York Moors was recorded by John Megginson in verse. He was a 52 year old farmer, woodman and local preacher who lived at Fryup Head with his wife Ann Frank and their large family. Snowdrifts, floods and storms – here they are in lively verse: </p><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Original Poetry on the Year of Our Lord, 1895</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>John Megginson, Great Fryup, Lealholm, Grosmont</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGa4nz9R2cua0XGGPqZgeDo67Elf6e-N-ibRfXPAEE7xMXmrXrfvVpVZeAkFwy2ubcaaxYVrEPRSdGc5sbBTzVW4CQlTsyl-q5a2q4os_qkk-co3Y_MPtITYOd_mM5SUQ2nZC6YXPeMHqIJMJu8h0x6EMgt9pF1SMw-z7eBYVdkVMgHRHCOEnzUZzn/s640/Sheep%20waiting%20for%20feed%20in%20Fryup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="407" data-original-width="640" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGa4nz9R2cua0XGGPqZgeDo67Elf6e-N-ibRfXPAEE7xMXmrXrfvVpVZeAkFwy2ubcaaxYVrEPRSdGc5sbBTzVW4CQlTsyl-q5a2q4os_qkk-co3Y_MPtITYOd_mM5SUQ2nZC6YXPeMHqIJMJu8h0x6EMgt9pF1SMw-z7eBYVdkVMgHRHCOEnzUZzn/s320/Sheep%20waiting%20for%20feed%20in%20Fryup.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">As long as we are all alive</div><div style="text-align: left;">We shall remember January of '95;</div><div style="text-align: left;">When it came in it was so coarse, </div><div style="text-align: left;">It snew and blew with mighty force!</div><div style="text-align: left;">So those that had to go to preach</div><div style="text-align: left;">They had a task the place to reach;</div><div style="text-align: left;">And when they had to travel back</div><div style="text-align: left;">They were beat sometimes to find a track;</div><div style="text-align: left;">For down below, and on the moor,</div><div style="text-align: left;">The wind it made the snow to stoor;</div><div style="text-align: left;">And people round about the place</div><div style="text-align: left;">Could not get to the means of grace.</div></blockquote><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The month of February then set in,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And the frost was sharp, the wind blew thin;</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">There was many a strong and bitter blast,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">Folks wondered oft how long 'twould last;</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And many who never saw the like,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">For it covered up both hedge and dyke,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And places in the hills so steep</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The snow was fully twelve feet deep.</div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">Then the month of March it was so cold</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">It told upon both young and old,</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">For all around, both high and low,</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The ground was covered up with snow;</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">But just before the month was spent</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">A thaw to us was wisely sent;</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">To all it will be understood</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">It went away without a flood.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">When April came it was so fine</div><div style="text-align: left;">All through the month the sun did shine;</div><div style="text-align: left;">And then it came such splendid showers,</div><div style="text-align: left;">On every side sprung up the flowers;</div><div style="text-align: left;">The birds they then began to sing,</div><div style="text-align: left;">The cuckoo did good tidings bring;</div><div style="text-align: left;">The rook he crew though he was so dark,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And then went towering up the lark;</div><div style="text-align: left;">The farmer rose before 'twas light,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And worked with might from morn till night,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And then retired to his rest</div><div style="text-align: left;">Content that he had done his best;</div><div style="text-align: left;">When morning came he was up again,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Away he went to sow his grain,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And when his soil was clear of weed</div><div style="text-align: left;">To sow good seed he did take heed.</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovujoPkgOfIguJYS53eP3urvCJoTOE8Dma8v7dBsKispsKareHRhyyj6cQgwoRhlyYaNx9PK7ou6pnflCXZ_Bn_RV8mhi6e_lFqFPKY4zXwWIRhxhLqYPxQHxUBWNlS6pBuFIVmkcZTbNz2iIYF9U8b4N39AVERNUhsIdQXD4uq5b4VRYx5bqMhLI/s640/Bainley%20Bank%20Farm,%20Great%20Fryup%20Dale%20by%20Paul%20Buckingham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovujoPkgOfIguJYS53eP3urvCJoTOE8Dma8v7dBsKispsKareHRhyyj6cQgwoRhlyYaNx9PK7ou6pnflCXZ_Bn_RV8mhi6e_lFqFPKY4zXwWIRhxhLqYPxQHxUBWNlS6pBuFIVmkcZTbNz2iIYF9U8b4N39AVERNUhsIdQXD4uq5b4VRYx5bqMhLI/s320/Bainley%20Bank%20Farm,%20Great%20Fryup%20Dale%20by%20Paul%20Buckingham.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The next that came was the month of May,</div><div style="text-align: left;">It rained and blew from day to day,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And some who thought their labour lost,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Before it went out there was such a frost.</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The month of June it was so dull</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">We thought that wheat would never be full,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And barley too as well as oats</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">Would both be troubled alike with shorts.</div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">July next came, as all's aware</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">'Twas two days rain for one day fair;</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed,</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And down the valley the water dashed!</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And such a waste amongst the hay</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">For many a load was washed away.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">When August came it was so bright</div><div style="text-align: left;">The sun it shone from morn till night,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And all things round they looked so pleasant,</div><div style="text-align: left;">A smile was on both lord and peasant.</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The next that came was rich September,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And such a month none can remember,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">There was such a hot and clear sky,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The corn was all secured dry.</div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">But October came with wind and hail,</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And lofty ships could hardly sail;</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">For while they were on the ocean tossed</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">I heard that many a life was lost.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">When November came it was much the same,</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was not snow but fell much rain,</div><div style="text-align: left;">The nights were dark, the wind was strong,</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was a struggle to get along;</div><div style="text-align: left;">For a man who had to cross the moor</div><div style="text-align: left;">He had a task we may be sure,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was told that he did lose his way,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And had to wait till the break of day;</div><div style="text-align: left;">He could not there resort to wire,</div><div style="text-align: left;">But with some turf he made a fire,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And behind a butt he sat him down,</div><div style="text-align: left;">For he was far from either friend or town;</div><div style="text-align: left;">And as he sat upon a stone</div><div style="text-align: left;">He thought of them who were at home;</div><div style="text-align: left;">When morning came he tried again,</div><div style="text-align: left;">And urged his way with might and main;</div><div style="text-align: left;">The road he travelled he did not ken,</div><div style="text-align: left;">But he landed at Hardle* just at ten,<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Hardale Stray, Tranmire YO21 2BW?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">And while to them he told his story,</div><div style="text-align: left;">The friends for him were very sorry;</div><div style="text-align: left;">They said he was neither mean nor shabby,</div><div style="text-align: left;">But he wanted to be to Rosedale Abbey!</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfPaVZd3WHy5bbplIihlt8N1DEGY0Y8PCNIUh39or9TmV8hn2KscRhVjGfCjRbEl0GFutunwNcKJrrMxBA3iKyXgSW_vs12JBFbBixgeT5oKrvtUBf1IVIEEpwS_bpTGlBeu6S8j4HMrBCeAgPIoXe7Jt9_MSbTUrdft5NgU1SoRNp6JGPTF-xuNe/s1280/Great%20Fryup%20Dale%20by%20James@hopgrove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfPaVZd3WHy5bbplIihlt8N1DEGY0Y8PCNIUh39or9TmV8hn2KscRhVjGfCjRbEl0GFutunwNcKJrrMxBA3iKyXgSW_vs12JBFbBixgeT5oKrvtUBf1IVIEEpwS_bpTGlBeu6S8j4HMrBCeAgPIoXe7Jt9_MSbTUrdft5NgU1SoRNp6JGPTF-xuNe/s320/Great%20Fryup%20Dale%20by%20James@hopgrove.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Fryup Dale by James@hopgrove</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">December came to close the year,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">On every side there was much cheer,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And all around there was such mirth</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">It reminded us of the Saviour's birth.</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">For as shepherds watched their flocks by night,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">They were guided by a star so bright,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And angels did so sweetly sing,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">Which told they did good tidings bring.</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">So now let all unite and sing</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">A song of praise to Christ our King,</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">That when our race on earth is run</div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The Lord at last may say well done.</div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">My poem now it must be ended,</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">I have said much more than I intended,</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">And there's many a thing that [can't be mended]</div></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">But the harvest's past, the year [is ended].</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Richard Blakey & Son, Printers, West Row, Stockton-on-Tees</i></p><p><br /></p><p>Sadly, the corner of the card on which these verses were printed has been torn away – the square brackets indicate where I've made a guess at the missing words.</p><p><br /></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-36669347153972483102023-04-22T08:00:00.002+01:002023-11-15T15:47:20.417+00:00Mourning in Eston: 1877<p style="text-align: justify;"><i>A small sheaf of receipted bills, which had survived by chance in the offices of Meek, Stubbs & Barnley, has given me the material for this sad story.</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">It was on the afternoon of Tuesday 23 January 1877 that a jury met at the Talbot Hotel in the High Street of South Eston. They had been called by deputy coroner James Dent to inquire into a death.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Some 25 years earlier, ironstone had been discovered in the Eston Hills. Before the ironmaster John Vaughan and his mining engineer John Marley found that first thick seam on 8 June 1850, Eston was just a little village. With the opening of the Eston Ironstone Mine, men began to pour in from across the country, and soon terraces of housing were thrown up and the little enclaves of South Eston, California and Eston Junction came into being.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The inquest on that January afternoon in 1877 had been called because of the death of James Scaife. He had come to Eston from Nidderdale. Born to linen weaver Thomas Scaife and Esther Metcalfe on 11 November 1831, he was baptised at the Pateley Bridge Wesleyan chapel. By the time he came to Eston in the early 1860s, he had been at work for more than 20 years. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">When he was 9 years old, living with his family at the Little Kiln Hill Milestone near Glasshouses, he and his 12 year old sister Ann were working in one of the Nidderdale textile mills. When he was 19, the family was living at Crags, near the Blazefield quarries, and he was working with his father as a gardener. Mining was a local industry, but he hadn't chosen to work with his brother-in-law Henry Calvert, Ann's husband, who was a miner in one of the <a href="https://nidderdaleaonb.org.uk/special-qualities/heritage/mining/" target="_blank">Nidderdale coal mines</a>. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the 1861 census, James was 30 years old, living on his own in Pateley Bridge and driving a carrier's cart. By the late summer of 1863 he was in Eston and had married a young widow with 3 small boys.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Elizabeth Fielding was born in 1828 to John and Jane Fielding in Skirbeck, a village on the east coast of Lincolnshire near Boston. In the summer of 1848 she married Richard Earley, who was a few years her elder, born in 1820 to Charles and Mary Earley at Kirton in Holland, a few miles to the south of Boston. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the late 1850s, Richard moved to Eston to work in the ironstone mines, bringing Elizabeth and their little boy Richard. It seems that Elizabeth had already known a good deal of grief in childbearing – after more than 10 years of marriage, Richard was her only surviving child. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6w-WFNnwFXtKI63wWZ9QiyFFr-MslpmHi5eZQuoA84--UeB0Dnhze_iagt9wh6AtHVDs7wRtun-U80w1RqiEcrk528ybI6g32VC0-rCkf3j6arLoDq5QhhPz7KToRvcWaDQKLl2N-stdnwWeLHqCNUgrQwbQPQGfWompMEjmelZdbpC_jMK_z9LBU/s1015/South%20Eston%20c1913.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="633" data-original-width="1015" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6w-WFNnwFXtKI63wWZ9QiyFFr-MslpmHi5eZQuoA84--UeB0Dnhze_iagt9wh6AtHVDs7wRtun-U80w1RqiEcrk528ybI6g32VC0-rCkf3j6arLoDq5QhhPz7KToRvcWaDQKLl2N-stdnwWeLHqCNUgrQwbQPQGfWompMEjmelZdbpC_jMK_z9LBU/w400-h250/South%20Eston%20c1913.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">South Eston c1913: CC-BY <a href="https://maps.nls.uk/index.html">National Library of Scotland</a><br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">There will have been familiar accents around them in their new home because a good many Lincolnshire men came to work in the Eston mines. William Pett, a 41 year old platelayer from the same village as Richard Earley, was lodging with them in 1861. He was probably an old friend or relation of Richard's, and they had called their new baby after him – little William Pett Earley was only a month old at the time of the census. By then, the family was living at 71 William Street, South Eston. It was one of the streets that led off the High Street towards the moors.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: justify;">Nearly all the men in William Street worked in Bolckow, Vaughan & Co's Eston Ironstone Mines – from the 10 and 12 year old boys who were Door Keepers, to the 13 year olds who drove the horses, to the labourers and engine fitters and, most of all, the many miners themselves. But it was always said in mining rushes that the best way to make money was not to be a miner but to supply the miners and people were drawn to Eston for exactly that purpose. At the top of the street was Mrs Wheatcroft, butcher and publican, next door was the grocer George Brayshaw and a few doors down from Number 71 was the Miners' Arms – there were plenty of places to drink in Eston.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then, on 10 December 1862, Richard Earley was killed by the fall of ironstone in the mines. He was 41 years old and Elizabeth was heavily pregnant with their third child. The inquest recorded an accidental death and Richard was buried on 14 December at <a href="http://collections.beamish.org.uk/pages/estonchurch" target="_blank">St Helen's church in Eston</a>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMOYHZJj_3OSgNHrGreWUqoS_HOA7N3-Z0QvsRfbRWzaHtnCEFJJCNETi9Qsjfiy7p-BD7Zs0XrKLZ76QYpdonWRv8QO2J7Q9RxcNHJD1L4Lx8stMXRZHwIx0puUIDNDCkt2LtvA5EW7rKv-ZxzlumTnA0fubXPTXzv1VqlBTxz_ShBNZPoADbvzd/s968/St%20Helen's,%20Eston%20by%20Andrew%20Curtis.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="968" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMOYHZJj_3OSgNHrGreWUqoS_HOA7N3-Z0QvsRfbRWzaHtnCEFJJCNETi9Qsjfiy7p-BD7Zs0XrKLZ76QYpdonWRv8QO2J7Q9RxcNHJD1L4Lx8stMXRZHwIx0puUIDNDCkt2LtvA5EW7rKv-ZxzlumTnA0fubXPTXzv1VqlBTxz_ShBNZPoADbvzd/w400-h254/St%20Helen's,%20Eston%20by%20Andrew%20Curtis.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Helen's, Eston (rebuilt at Beamish Museum): by <a href="https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/5651894" target="_blank">Andrew Curtis</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Early in the New Year, Elizabeth gave birth to another son and named him John Henry. The outlook must have been fairly bleak – how was she to raise her three boys? James Scaife came to her aid. They married in the late summer of 1863 and 18 months later their daughter, Esther Jane, was born.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">James Scaife was then 34 years old. He had worked hard all his life and he had ambitions for a better, cleaner, safer future. By 1871 the family was living in West Street, South Eston – it ran parallel to William Street – and, while James was almost certainly working as a miner together with his eldest stepson who was by then 15, he and Elizabeth had started up a grocery business. They also had 4 lodgers, miners born in Lincolnshire, Lancaster, Co. Durham and Norfolk. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">How large their house was, I can't tell – most of the houses in West Street seem to have been 2 bedroomed cottages and many, if not all, of them were owned by Mr Marley – probably John Marley, the mining engineer who found the ironstone. His tenants petitioned the Eston Local Board in 1886 begging the Board to do all in their power to prevent Mr Marley from "from erecting one privy to every four houses, as he is doing at the present time". (The Surveyor was able to persuade him to erect one privy to every two houses). But at the ends of the street were quite sizeable houses. William Horner's butcher's shop on the corner of West Street and the High Street was a large property, with a slaughterhouse behind it. The Scaifes seem, from the census, to have lived at the other end of West Street, nearest the hills and not far from the corner with Guisborough Street. Next door to them was a Cheshire man, John Turner, who was a grocer and draper. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzeTs0gQyXfh7sJEm0__B3eSgMw-n24M14y1VldbMaTg4wO3To820FI-AKnqgoGyWgkxrAHZFQSg3ZLbQoY_r5g3NAqSSguPlB3qmpO5pCa8sw_w460uht8it2Oio4DwMZAVyOHumJDPWrlSX1iWFihQsi0Uq86QPvy39UYWPpzxSVcUB5p0NqSDr/s1152/West%20Street,%20Eston%20c1900.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="1152" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzeTs0gQyXfh7sJEm0__B3eSgMw-n24M14y1VldbMaTg4wO3To820FI-AKnqgoGyWgkxrAHZFQSg3ZLbQoY_r5g3NAqSSguPlB3qmpO5pCa8sw_w460uht8it2Oio4DwMZAVyOHumJDPWrlSX1iWFihQsi0Uq86QPvy39UYWPpzxSVcUB5p0NqSDr/w400-h229/West%20Street,%20Eston%20c1900.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Looking along West Street, Eston towards the hills: c1900</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps the competition with Mr Turner was too much, because by the end of 1876 they had given up on the grocery business and James and Elizabeth were running a newsagents' and stationer's shop from their house, which James owned himself. But the income from the newsagency wasn't enough, and he was also working as a miner.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, by this time, things had begun to go very wrong. James's mental health rapidly deteriorated and by January 1877 he had been "wrong in his mind" for a short time.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On the evening of Tuesday 16 January 1877, James left the house. He had "had some drink", the deputy coroner was told at the inquest, and before leaving home he told Elizabeth that she would not see him alive again. One of his stepsons saw him go "in the direction of a reservoir". There were a couple of reservoirs nearby and only the previous July a young man had drowned in 7 or 8 feet of water in a reservoir on Eston Moor, a favourite summer bathing place for the lads and young men. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Elizabeth must have hoped James had just gone off to tramp the moors for a while but on Sunday 21 January his cap was found near the reservoir. When the police learned of his state of mind, they had the water dragged and they found his body. The next day at the inquest at the Talbot Hotel, the jury returned the verdict that "the deceased committed suicide while in an unsound state of mind."</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>Elizabeth was now nearly 49 years old. Her sons, aged between 14 and 21, were all working but Esther was coming up to 12 and was probably still at school. They needed mourning clothes and they needed to bury James decently. After that, without James's wage as a miner, Elizabeth needed to keep on making a living for herself and the young ones.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fortunately James had belonged to a burial club or a friendly society – on the reverse of the undertaker's account can be seen the pencilled note "Club money £20". It was most probably the Oddfellows, who had been a fixture in South Eston from the start, opening their Oddfellows Hall in 1856. The undertaker was William Ingledew, joiner, builder and undertaker.</div><div><br /></div><div>William Ingledew was 36 years old. He was born in Sadberge, Co. Durham and his wife Jane was from near Wakefield, but he had relatives in Great Ayton so perhaps he seemed almost a local to other incomers. They had two small children and he had plenty of work on. Two years later, when his daughter Martha was baptised, he was busy building houses – the parish register shows the family was living at 11 Ingledews Buildings – and by 1881, while they were living at Number 10 Imeson Street, he was renting 59 acres of land and must have been pleased to describe himself as a joiner and farmer, employing 1 man and a boy. The family went on to own High Grange Farm, Eston.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPxxBaWGmf-Dsd7PiGdc6x1w5z8RdWFDgOdhnRz6z_fXcq2PAzysmKX5hGhlfG-17FeWAolfvumrLO2wf2yYTDZ363UTcjfoVsInBBkvMSKka6OXhAyNoyv8qNyWJGLu86-DmEPHJNeILjmkwtn7QkjfcjsaZ7mtjCQeeJ0fzeqwMLB4qHFdzL5wt/s1536/Ingledew%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1208" data-original-width="1536" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPxxBaWGmf-Dsd7PiGdc6x1w5z8RdWFDgOdhnRz6z_fXcq2PAzysmKX5hGhlfG-17FeWAolfvumrLO2wf2yYTDZ363UTcjfoVsInBBkvMSKka6OXhAyNoyv8qNyWJGLu86-DmEPHJNeILjmkwtn7QkjfcjsaZ7mtjCQeeJ0fzeqwMLB4qHFdzL5wt/s320/Ingledew%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Three women were paid to lay James out (an unpleasant task after nearly 5 days in the water) and three women were paid for four days, which must have been for the attendance and perhaps for the baking. There were 12 bearers, paid 2 shillings and sixpence each. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The funeral was on Wednesday 24 January. After the Revd Jackson had read the burial service at St Helen's, there was food laid on. Clearly there were quantities of currant cake, with tea, bread and butter and jam, cheese, cold meat, ale and tobacco: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAr6PFdOzAq2C8b_HRyE2w52EFK8hamlh87-UFIhHctWirbhvxqz23J4UQV_UtHnHIqC57AwH4PuSQx6F41RZIM_5aGOUlTyOz_gMIeCL58W7aP_WrJFq1M0CLt2lRnri76P5gnFu8p113ridSMw-hLNy66DS9mexWHCdoTAUCOXQyy6t9_G4lB7QV/s2048/Food%20etc%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAr6PFdOzAq2C8b_HRyE2w52EFK8hamlh87-UFIhHctWirbhvxqz23J4UQV_UtHnHIqC57AwH4PuSQx6F41RZIM_5aGOUlTyOz_gMIeCL58W7aP_WrJFq1M0CLt2lRnri76P5gnFu8p113ridSMw-hLNy66DS9mexWHCdoTAUCOXQyy6t9_G4lB7QV/w219-h400/Food%20etc%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" width="219" /></a><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Fruit cake: 4 stone of flour (25.5 kg) –– 7 lbs of lard (3 kg) – 4 lbs of lump sugar (1.8 kg) – 14 lbs of currants (6.35 kg) – 2 lb of lemon peel (0.9 kg) </div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sandwiches: 2 stone of bread (12.7 kg) – 6 lb of butter (2.7 kg) – 21 lbs of ham (9.5 kg) – 14 lbs of beef (6.35 kg) – 4 lbs of cheese (1.8 kg) – 4 lbs of jam (1.8 kg) </div></blockquote><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A pound of tobacco (0.45 kg) was provided for the men's pipes, while to drink there was 3 lbs of leaf tea (1.4 kg) and 3 gallons of ale (24 pints)</div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The club money paid for it all, with £3-5s-6d over. So Elizabeth also had money to buy wine and biscuits from Mr Brentnall on the High Street. She bought 3 lbs (1.4 kg) of biscuits at a cost of ninepence, together with 5 bottles of British wine (at 1 shilling and fourpence apiece) – British wine was something like port or sherry and was made in Britain from imported concentrate or juice.</div></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZbiB-KWNDaVUY6xEnZbeLXtIRk5KCkttSMLpCi2b8VT4X8MdZbnD0KOFxGrS8ra5MwN907snR8thF0-5VMxFlBXHSXeijzq0u3-bbjutDqWTYtLjfqjAI2kAL0xNIWFkM_ckq4s_L9EGDaWGZttYJa81UmHSLWMjzQyC4qikmL23lkJweSTQyTV1/s2048/Brentnall's%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZbiB-KWNDaVUY6xEnZbeLXtIRk5KCkttSMLpCi2b8VT4X8MdZbnD0KOFxGrS8ra5MwN907snR8thF0-5VMxFlBXHSXeijzq0u3-bbjutDqWTYtLjfqjAI2kAL0xNIWFkM_ckq4s_L9EGDaWGZttYJa81UmHSLWMjzQyC4qikmL23lkJweSTQyTV1/w300-h400/Brentnall's%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div>Joseph Edmund Brentnall was the Registrar of Births and Deaths and from his shop on the High Street he traded as a "Druggist, family grocer, tea & colonial merchant and Italian Warehouseman". The letter heading on his bill advertises that he stocked "British wines, Plain and Fancy Biscuits and Patent Medicines of every description".</div><div><br /></div><div>Mr Brentnall had arrived in Eston in the late 1850s from Witton Park, near Bishop Auckland but he was from Ilkeston in Derbyshire and his wife Mary Ann was born in Craster, Northumberland. When they came to Eston they had three little children, all born in Witton Park, and the family increased steadily afterwards – six children were born to them in Eston. Next door to the Brentnalls lived Mary Ann's parents, Thomas Strutt, a retired sea captain from Essex and his Lincolnshire born wife.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mr Brentnall was quite a significant local figure. He had been appointed registrar in 1871 and in 1875 became vaccination officer for Eston. When his daughter Frances Hannah was married in 1871 to the mining engineer George Lee, the son of Thomas Lee, manager of the Eston Mines, there was a lively local celebration of the old-fashioned rural kind, according to the <i>Darlington & Richmond Herald</i>, 1 April 1871</div><div><blockquote>The village had quite a gay appearance, flags and bunting being placed to good advantage. Some enthusiastic individuals found vent for their feelings in firing cannon; others in athletic sports, which were continued to a late hour.</blockquote></div><div>Elizabeth paid Mr Brentnall's bill on the day of the funeral. </div><div><br /></div><div>The day after James's body was found, Elizabeth went to the drapers to buy mourning. Two sheets of bills survive. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNQL3ebkUumhpqb2Kha7T7FFLgSvb-qhKInep4EKhSoCnved_RwUUFokKGoTRLOuJGaQawGWKtkY-P6Mvw87iYoOwR9vy92QlL4_9x-ZdieUsn7NbuG7R4k8IV_DBxLikMnGkB55A1UdjBdLvK5I_qM07Z_hB2CuIQGzj_02x3Cp6X7dtK1LZY1Il/s1824/Bottomley%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1824" data-original-width="1482" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNQL3ebkUumhpqb2Kha7T7FFLgSvb-qhKInep4EKhSoCnved_RwUUFokKGoTRLOuJGaQawGWKtkY-P6Mvw87iYoOwR9vy92QlL4_9x-ZdieUsn7NbuG7R4k8IV_DBxLikMnGkB55A1UdjBdLvK5I_qM07Z_hB2CuIQGzj_02x3Cp6X7dtK1LZY1Il/w325-h400/Bottomley%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" width="325" /></a></div><br /><div><div>George Bottomley & Co were "Silk mercers, Hosiers, Glovers, Haberdashers, Carpet Merchants and General Drapers" trading from 10, 12 & 14 East Street, Middlesbrough. It was a large concern with a branch in Eston.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mourning was a formalised affair, leaving the bereaved with weighty choices between their financial resources, the money they would need for the future and the need to present a decent, respectable appearance and not to slight the memory of the loved one. </div><div><br /></div><div>The matt black fabric needed for mourning was called Crape. It was used for the widow's bonnet and veil, it was added as trimmings to dresses and it was sewn onto cuffs and edgings.</div><div><br /></div><div>The upmarket version of crape was made from silk gauze, heat-treated, dyed black and stiffened. It was a grim material – it shed its dye if it got wet, it stained the skin if the wearer was sweaty, and it scratched the face and skin causing irritation. </div><div><br /></div><div>For full mourning for the middle and upper classes, the widow's veil was traditionally 6 feet long and made of 2 layers of crape fastened to the bonnet – heavy, hard to breathe through and hard to see through. The blackness itself was toxic and began to cause doctors more and more alarm because the aniline dye was processed using arsenic. The British Medical Journal tried to draw the public's attention to the risk to the wearers – widows were breathing in the dust and toxins from the crape veil that hung over their faces. The textile company Courtaulds made a fortune out of crape until fashions at last changed in the early C20 (particularly because of the scale of death in the First World War) and sales figures finally dropped.</div><div><br /></div></div><div><div>Albert-crape was a more economical version, made of a cotton and silk mix. Because mourning was an expensive matter, the working class in particular would alter and dye and trim clothes they already had so they could present a decent appearance. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first bill shows that Elizabeth bought crape and calico, trimmings, buttons, a man's tie, gloves and a hat for Esther Jane. She bought a bonnet for herself with nearly half a yard of Crape and a flower and paid for alterations to it. The next day she went back for more crape, flannel, hose, a silk square, a cap and a table cloth.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijcNzYoBWNpyxvXeIRfLq5Z2SDCH9nbUsq9SNwnwIUC4fNJJ1QQ4ptmKmt6WznoaU7ZqlZ7TOinMf-tL_14g3OMn0j0zER3x7uLNzg7EOyLhd1I1ERjiyEQnBFnm9p3JTe9uQo5WFn72fTAc6SMgiFUcn2rHH67p65Dmx68RQ4dLpiLv6NjNvBaGCn/s1820/Bottomley%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral%20(2).JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1820" data-original-width="1501" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijcNzYoBWNpyxvXeIRfLq5Z2SDCH9nbUsq9SNwnwIUC4fNJJ1QQ4ptmKmt6WznoaU7ZqlZ7TOinMf-tL_14g3OMn0j0zER3x7uLNzg7EOyLhd1I1ERjiyEQnBFnm9p3JTe9uQo5WFn72fTAc6SMgiFUcn2rHH67p65Dmx68RQ4dLpiLv6NjNvBaGCn/w330-h400/Bottomley%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral%20(2).JPEG" width="330" /></a></div><br /><div><div>On 5 February there was still 1s 8½d outstanding to Bottomleys. More items would be needed over the next weeks and Elizabeth had to make several trips to the shop, paying the balance of £3 14s 7½d off by degrees in May and July, at the beginning of the following January. She finally settled the account on 13 February 1878, a little more than a year after James's death.</div><div><br /></div><div>By this time, George Bottomley himself had been dead for 6 months. He was born at Sowerby near Halifax but when he married Mary Pickering at Wharram Le Street near Malton in February 1847, he was already living in Middlesbrough and working as a draper. He was then 24 years old. </div><div><br /></div><div>He had built up a thriving business, been a JP and active in the public life of the new town. He had died unexpectedly at East Street on 20 August 1877 aged 54 and was buried in the Old Cemetery at Middlesbrough. He was a JP and one of the earliest inhabitants of the town and had been active in its public life – the Mayor, aldermen and councillors were at his funeral and about 20 vehicles of mourners followed the cortege. </div><div><br /></div><div>When Elizabeth Scaife finally cleared her account with George Bottomley & Co, it was run by Mr Bottomley's Aberdeen-born son-in-law Alexander Cruickshank together with a trustee called George Watson.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglcGRw6lDNSdhqLy-jfdQaxrgKzKSqKO_TOzKxZGKeWNWuKeJst9lqp10OD2MPcN0K4E3rspbXafVthyDN460C_N_-nPhddpD2oaK1OmeRsMbvXutLHUJORdecIILLhHYhtxdixqRaDkKngF16IEsHtl3_F01VHFvGNA-CHyjVUhToLJOZEYZm0FN3/s1843/Reverse%20of%20Bottomley%20bill%202%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1843" data-original-width="1514" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglcGRw6lDNSdhqLy-jfdQaxrgKzKSqKO_TOzKxZGKeWNWuKeJst9lqp10OD2MPcN0K4E3rspbXafVthyDN460C_N_-nPhddpD2oaK1OmeRsMbvXutLHUJORdecIILLhHYhtxdixqRaDkKngF16IEsHtl3_F01VHFvGNA-CHyjVUhToLJOZEYZm0FN3/w329-h400/Reverse%20of%20Bottomley%20bill%202%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" width="329" /></a></div><br /><div><div>While William Ingledew listed £1 for the "Dressmaker" in his bill – because though Elizabeth must have made and altered as much as she could for Esther Jane and herself, the help of a dressmaker would be very welcome given the pressure of time – for the boys' clothes, she needed to go to the tailor.</div><div><br /></div><div>John Nicholson ("Tailor and Outfitter, Hats and Caps") was a 50 year old master tailor employing 2 men. He and his wife Mary were locals, born in Skelton. Like the Brentnalls, the Nicholsons came to Eston in the late 1850s. By then they already had 2 children, and it was in Eston that their youngest 3 children were born. Their house and shop was on the High Street. Mr Nicholson was another significant local figure. In 1871 he became a member of the Eston School Board in an uncontested election together with Thomas Lee, the manager of Eston Mines, Edward Williams of Cleveland Lodge (the General Manager of Bolckow Vaughan), Thomas Williams, Cashier at the Mines, and the Revd Vyvyan Henry Moyle.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJ-kBi82MQKl-hFhiS3JXFvi-cr_mpdlFwV_CiuONWjcdwyf_otkPI1hUuWKw4qsG-VbF2w79qBpka8OICePSx6Xqeo4GCtMKu0t0w4zx8P8RuUglULkG40SCFuWk1aCVBO_dKehBv79MuBItCVmEMSzJ9YdKgKrHnZ9Xe-BmUnDsFAr4zodsUF14/s1976/Nicholson%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1976" data-original-width="1258" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJ-kBi82MQKl-hFhiS3JXFvi-cr_mpdlFwV_CiuONWjcdwyf_otkPI1hUuWKw4qsG-VbF2w79qBpka8OICePSx6Xqeo4GCtMKu0t0w4zx8P8RuUglULkG40SCFuWk1aCVBO_dKehBv79MuBItCVmEMSzJ9YdKgKrHnZ9Xe-BmUnDsFAr4zodsUF14/w255-h400/Nicholson%20bill%20for%20Scaife%20funeral.JPEG" width="255" /></a></div><br /><div><div>John Nicholson's bill shows that he made three sets of clothes: a suit for £4 and 2 sets of jacket, trousers & vest. One jacket was made from 1¼ yards of black cloth at 13 shillings a yard, while 2½ yards of cheaper cloth at 4 shillings and sixpence a yard was made up into trousers and a vest. The other jacket was made from 1 yard of cloth with a further yard and an eighth for the trousers and vest. The suit must have been for Richard, the eldest. But the amount of cloth (respectively a little over, and a little under, a metre each) used for the jackets for 17 year old William and 14 year old John show that the boys were only small.</div><div> </div><div>After this very creditable funeral, Elizabeth carried on as a newsagent and stationer but she clearly had difficulties. Without James's extra income, and perhaps because she and James had overstretched themselves in the hope of future prosperity, there were problems with money. It seems that creditors became impatient, proceedings in the County Court were begun and Elizabeth was obliged to take out a Grant of Administration of James's estate so that the house could be sold. On 20 March 1879 it was put up for auction.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>A couple of years later, in the 1881 Census, Elizabeth was still in West Street, next door but one to the George & Dragon. She was quite possibly still living in the same house but now as a tenant. The house must have been very full. She had her three younger children with her – William and Esther worked in the shop while John Henry was a labourer – and she had 6 lodgers, all of them miners or labourers. She stayed in Eston, running her newsagents' business, until her final years. She died in 1904, ending her days in the Middlesbrough Workhouse. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>For the Cleveland & Teesside Local History Society timeline of Eston: <a href="http://ctlhs.co.uk/golden-jubilee/fifty-interesting-places/eston/" target="_blank">see here</a></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>For more on mourning crape</i></div><div><a href="https://www.racked.com/2018/3/29/17156818/19th-century-mourning-veil" target="_blank"><i>Wearing a 19th-Century Mourning Veil Could Result in — Twist — Death</i></a></div><div><i><a href="https://lilacandbombazine.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/layers-of-sorrow-the-fabrics-of-mourning/" target="_blank">Layers of Sorrow </a><a href="https://www.racked.com/2018/3/29/17156818/19th-century-mourning-veil" target="_blank">—</a><a href="https://lilacandbombazine.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/layers-of-sorrow-the-fabrics-of-mourning/" target="_blank"> the Fabrics of Mourning</a></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>For Steve Waller's research into the layout of Middlesbrough Old Cemetery (which now lies under Ayresome Gardens): see <a href="https://www.thenorthernecho.co.uk/news/8168837.unearthing-secrets/" target="_blank">this article in the Northern Echo</a></i></div><div><i>For a video of the model he has created, see <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itd6ml3EsQA" target="_blank">youtube here</a></i></div></div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-25763203289556413892023-03-25T08:00:00.001+00:002023-03-25T08:00:00.196+00:00Lord Falkland fights a duel: 1809<p>This is the story behind this tablet in the chancel of Hutton Rudby church:</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIR1blRBmSafrPyeo1UHiPHLF_Y1uL06KzyNzkMWU6mBoDzxh3GdbCxhDakgW_CTXU-1qVnsFWr8hkCLhkJDz1ChiCimlByR_f303ifvbFOnuLgweMFV-9pvvawvvvXOQ8w0yMHp06sswowhNQa0U23nMF6oa3Y_GDeRZvzmcBxq9tTSwQSWzKhk6L/s3433/Tablet%20to%209th%20Visct%20Falkland,%20his%20wife%20&%20daughter.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2287" data-original-width="3433" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIR1blRBmSafrPyeo1UHiPHLF_Y1uL06KzyNzkMWU6mBoDzxh3GdbCxhDakgW_CTXU-1qVnsFWr8hkCLhkJDz1ChiCimlByR_f303ifvbFOnuLgweMFV-9pvvawvvvXOQ8w0yMHp06sswowhNQa0U23nMF6oa3Y_GDeRZvzmcBxq9tTSwQSWzKhk6L/s320/Tablet%20to%209th%20Visct%20Falkland,%20his%20wife%20&%20daughter.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Tablet to Charles John Cary, 9th Viscount Falkland, his wife & daughter<br />Hutton Rudby Church</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Captain Charles Cary RN, 9th Viscount Falkland, died of his wounds in the early hours of Thursday 2 March 1809. It was about 36 hours since he had been shot in the lower part of his abdomen and the surgeon hadn't been able to find the bullet and extract it. The autopsy would reveal the full extent of the damage – the pistol ball had wounded Lord Falkland's large intestine and lodged in his spine. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">He died as the result of a duel and he died in his opponent's house. He was forty years old and he left a young widow with four small children.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The year 1809 had begun unpromisingly for him with a fire.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In January 1809, he and his wife and their little children were in London for the season and had taken the first floor at the fashionable Warne's Hotel in Conduit Street. The hotel was made up of two houses – numbers 19 and 20 Conduit Street stand there now – and it stretched back towards the church of St George's, Hanover Square. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWGQoBOZRbAygZjCd4-nEVHm99tlijq34k4dYmlceRjRY6NJ7B_Uvu_y60BmAhhgpIyeqa8tIuuvFRB1uAXYtxQqgedNEWZBkn_nF1oLPeqcYwdoRGf55SBybjWETecEBk67skjBDI168wcsul3h4_gg01rLFU0LJs6ovA15MCYaRD5_q09IOowAy/s1200/St%20George's%20Hanover%20Square%20by%20T%20Malton.1787.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="1200" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWGQoBOZRbAygZjCd4-nEVHm99tlijq34k4dYmlceRjRY6NJ7B_Uvu_y60BmAhhgpIyeqa8tIuuvFRB1uAXYtxQqgedNEWZBkn_nF1oLPeqcYwdoRGf55SBybjWETecEBk67skjBDI168wcsul3h4_gg01rLFU0LJs6ovA15MCYaRD5_q09IOowAy/w400-h271/St%20George's%20Hanover%20Square%20by%20T%20Malton.1787.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St George's Hanover Square, by T Malton 1787</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On 30 January 1809, Warne's Hotel went up in flames. Some newspaper reports said that the fire started in Lord Falkland's dressing room because a poker had fallen from the grate. Some said it was Lady Falkland's dressing room. One report said that Lord Falkland rushed to the room hoping to save some cash in his writing desk, but was beaten back by the flames and that he had lost £300. Another report said it was £200. There were rumours that Lady Falkland lost all her jewels in the blaze.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the alarm was raised, she was able to escape from her drawing room with the three children and the baby and take refuge in a friend's house in Oxford Street. Meanwhile, men were dashing into the hotel to save as much of the furniture and contents as they could and servants were running up and down the stairs with as much water as they could carry. Soon the horrified congregation in nearby St George's could see flames through the church windows. There was a mass exodus for the door while someone, with great presence of mind, scooped up the church silver and took it to a place of safety. The charity school children had been at the service as usual – they rushed out into the street, boys without their hats and girls without their cloaks and bonnets. The road filled with people running in all directions.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Traffic came to a standstill as carriages four abreast blocked Bond Street. The fire engines couldn't get through and the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_Stanhope,_5th_Earl_of_Chesterfield" target="_blank">Earl of Chesterfield</a>, who was Colonel of the Old St George's Volunteers, sent a party of troopers to clear the way. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Percy,_3rd_Duke_of_Northumberland" target="_blank">Earl Percy</a> sent his private fire engine from Northumberland House and the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Cavendish-Bentinck,_3rd_Duke_of_Portland" target="_blank">Duke of Portland</a> – who was then Prime Minister and would before long die in office – helpfully sent a supply of ale to the firemen. But first they needed water. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the engines reached the scene, water couldn't be had – one report said it was an hour before the firemen could get a supply. The flames burst through the windows of the hotel with astonishing speed and the roof was soon destroyed. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sightseers gathered and had to be kept back by Horse Guards and Foot Guards while the wind, blowing a strong gale, blew red-hot cinders away, over and into Swallow Street and Vigo Lane in a shower of fire. People climbed up to their rooftops to beat out the sparks.</div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAGr90DbJWRQL0ND3a3Jmjiz_9msKzKR_oT2LbAsEZjNjpUvMWzJk_yt3K62ecLO-We4JXJwx5IAG85p5vp1QLLe_XderqmQOSPhO9fiPFqxDon5BdQ0QPb-T_d6fR0Pl9m8krsKI7KtViiguJyr2XLspK4bx6yEc4k6D3mksnoHdavFyoy7kE35b/s1114/Screenshot_20230108_162250.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1114" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAGr90DbJWRQL0ND3a3Jmjiz_9msKzKR_oT2LbAsEZjNjpUvMWzJk_yt3K62ecLO-We4JXJwx5IAG85p5vp1QLLe_XderqmQOSPhO9fiPFqxDon5BdQ0QPb-T_d6fR0Pl9m8krsKI7KtViiguJyr2XLspK4bx6yEc4k6D3mksnoHdavFyoy7kE35b/w400-h306/Screenshot_20230108_162250.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A fire in London, 1808</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the days that followed the fire, while the hotel was rapidly being rebuilt, Lord Falkland and his family settled into Dorant's Hotel in Albemarle Street. And now things began to look up for Lord Falkland. While he was out and about enjoying Society life, his career prospects started to improve. </div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For two years he had been without a command. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When he married Miss Christiana Anton in 1802 at St Clement Danes, Westminster, he had held the rank of commander in the Royal Navy. A later newspaper report described her as the "daughter of a merchant of the first respectability", so Christiana probably came with a very useful dowry – Lord Falkland was greatly in need of money. The children – three boys and a girl – followed in quick succession. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">By 1805 Lord Falkland had been posted to the Sea Fencibles at King's Lynn. This was the force created to keep the coast clear of invasion from the Emperor Napoleon, by defending the chain of forts called Martello towers that had been built along the coast. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So he was stationed in Norfolk on 21 October 1805 when Admiral Nelson's unorthodox tactics won a thumping victory at the Battle of Trafalgar, putting to an end the fear of a French invasion. It was a moment of immense pride for the Navy, so it is no surprise that Lord and Lady Falkland were at the grand Lynn Ball and Supper to celebrate the glorious event.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In February 1806, he was given the command of the frigate <i>Ariadne</i>, and was soon engaged in the blockade of Prussian ports. From the <i>Ariadne</i> he was appointed to the <i>Quebec</i>, a 32-gun fifth-rate frigate, stationed in the North Sea. This was a lucky command in that he took prizes – six sail of Danish Greenlandmen in August 1807 – and that meant prize money. And it was lucky because in September he had a commendation for his "usual Zeal and Promptness" from Vice-Admiral Russell. But it was also an unlucky command because there was clearly bad blood between him and his first lieutenant, a Scot named George Kippen.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Things grew to such a pitch that, in September 1807, Lord Falkland brought charges against Lieutenant Kippen for "disrespectful conduct and disobedience of orders". A Court Martial was held on board HMS <i>Roebuck</i> in the Yarmouth Roads and Mr Kippen was acquitted.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This didn't do anything to help the situation on board the <i>Quebec</i>, and in November it was Mr Kippen's turn to lose patience. He brought charges against Lord Falkland for "drunkenness and unofficer-like behaviour". A Court Martial was held on board HMS <i>Magnanime </i>at Sheerness – it found against Lord Falkland and he was dismissed the ship.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He took his wife and three little children to live on Melford Green at Melford, Suffolk and it was there that his third son was born in 1808. His close friend, the poet Lord Byron, was chosen as godfather and the baby was named Byron in his honour.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So Lord Falkland was in the sorry position of having no ship at a time when his fellow officers were making their names and making money in prizes. He was ashore at a time when the Navy was at its height, and who knew when the war would come to an end and the glorious opportunities of successful action would come to an end? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But shortly after the fire at the hotel, he learned that he had a ship at last. He had been given command of the frigate <i>Désirée</i>, which had been captured from the French a few years earlier, and he was to take Lord Amherst to a diplomatic post to the Kingdom of Sicily.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-ulj-N_StU8xNs1Pkb6d_UKRExejNDYdbNb0tz_txE9oLVI1XsxIjGHRSkSJ3H1HwYkDMfMJEvtp3hQSwvMKrIs2qc8HesDshtjWu9npDG-SdlSdS5aeQ7dJjFV5JQ7b3FOQK_63YROw7g8MSkVtQ3xmm1MOQZH4GeGQxTlRNm0PGO6UrObuGB7k/s812/Capture%20of%20the%20Desiree,%20July%201800.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="812" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-ulj-N_StU8xNs1Pkb6d_UKRExejNDYdbNb0tz_txE9oLVI1XsxIjGHRSkSJ3H1HwYkDMfMJEvtp3hQSwvMKrIs2qc8HesDshtjWu9npDG-SdlSdS5aeQ7dJjFV5JQ7b3FOQK_63YROw7g8MSkVtQ3xmm1MOQZH4GeGQxTlRNm0PGO6UrObuGB7k/s320/Capture%20of%20the%20Desiree,%20July%201800.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Capture of the <i style="text-align: left;">Désirée </i><span style="text-align: left;">by HMS <i>Dart</i></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lord Amherst had grown up in the household of Lord Falkland's cousin Lady Amherst, so perhaps family influence was brought to bear at the Admiralty. Lord Byron – who needed to leave England to avoid his creditors – was planning to sail with them. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But then Lord Falkland fell into a drunken quarrel with a wealthy young man-about-town called Arthur Annesley Powell. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When this affair burst into the newspapers, there were various excitable accounts of what had happened. This seems to be the story.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On Saturday 25 February, Lord Falkland had been at a large party at Mr Powell's where a great deal of wine had been taken – these were hard-drinking days. From there, the two men went on together to the Opera and then to Stephens's Hotel in Bond Street. At 3 o'clock in the morning, Lord Falkland and some friends went to the Mount Coffee House where they carried on drinking for another three hours until the coffee-house-keeper refused to serve them any more. The drunken men set upon him and the waiter with the poker, tongs and decanters until a body of watchmen managed to haul them to the watch-house to be brought before the Police Court in Marlborough Street.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next night Lord Falkland looked in at Stephens's Hotel where he saw Mr Powell. Neither of them was sober. So when Lord Falkland called out to Arthur Powell, "What! drunk again tonight, Pogey?" Mr Powell took it badly. It seems that he didn't consider that Lord Falkland knew him well enough to call him such names. Besides, "pogey" apparently meant someone who lived on the state, in the workhouse (cf <a href="http://www.james-gillray.org/pop/keen-sighted2.html" target="_blank">this Gillray cartoon</a>) and this was perhaps a touchy subject for Mr Powell – he was a very rich man only because he had the good luck to inherit a fortune from an uncle.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So Mr Powell snapped back at Lord Falkland, who snatched a cane from a nearby gentleman and used it to beat Mr Powell, who was saved by the waiter and some bystanders.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On Monday morning, Lord Falkland went to Mr Powell's house and apologised, saying it had happened because he was drunk. Arthur Powell replied that he couldn't accept the apology unless it was made at Stephens's Hotel in front of the men who had been there – he wanted a public apology – but to this Lord Falkland could not agree. So Arthur Powell challenged him to a duel. It was said that Lord Falkland appeared much hurt by this.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That night he didn't take wine at his dinner in his usual way, and he didn't go to bed but threw himself on his sofa, giving his servant strict orders to call him for an appointment at the Admiralty at 8 o'clock in the morning.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZUDMpLI3nDNmn6JnPSuNslb0klEmelykXJQQck0l13c8w2jUYpdXHdr6PwV-eWnuphxQQ6ToxL9fTrXeqohYBB2EtoeYhmJy_h4kqKWiHM7FToemDsdDJmRCKuIuOiLOUHr4n4M3nB-hqPvWYuiMkUYZwIO7VMx5dPGtA3J--PoFDUnuChqR-Qrv/s653/Screenshot_20230108_155639.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="653" height="90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZUDMpLI3nDNmn6JnPSuNslb0klEmelykXJQQck0l13c8w2jUYpdXHdr6PwV-eWnuphxQQ6ToxL9fTrXeqohYBB2EtoeYhmJy_h4kqKWiHM7FToemDsdDJmRCKuIuOiLOUHr4n4M3nB-hqPvWYuiMkUYZwIO7VMx5dPGtA3J--PoFDUnuChqR-Qrv/w200-h90/Screenshot_20230108_155639.png" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At 11 o'clock the two men, their seconds and two surgeons met at Chalk Farm. Mr Powell was the offended party so he had the right to fire first. His bullet struck Lord Falkland who stood there for a minute or more before throwing away his pistol without firing. It was said afterwards that he had never intended to fire because he knew he was in the wrong, but believed his honour required that he accepted the challenge instead of making an apology.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They put him in a post chaise but he experienced such pain as it began to travel across the rough ground that he asked to be carried home in a hammock on men's shoulders. At this point, Mr Powell and his second, Captain Cotton, were going past the post chaise and they stopped to ask what the trouble was. As Mr Powell lived not far off in Devonshire Place, Captain Cotton suggested that the wounded man should be taken there.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The surgeon <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Heaviside_(surgeon)" target="_blank">John Heaviside</a> was called to examine him, but found that there was little that could be <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrNC9-HAU8stTyXo4Wb9Onw643xwPAsjmg8INQPBU-dD96uqvzXZpSu_PcwEfgmBsX2MgX18-i1SHIY2KKKSWxe9nZOFIzO4FSPpsH8Mo3DlZ7aNADSNbF-5_OthVJbI_ZdxOy_zCKDVRz2rJTJO1Oxiafv0GvSIuhdEtG0qt6unVRgVjSulKPdkv/s376/John%20Heaviside,%20surgeon.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="344" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrNC9-HAU8stTyXo4Wb9Onw643xwPAsjmg8INQPBU-dD96uqvzXZpSu_PcwEfgmBsX2MgX18-i1SHIY2KKKSWxe9nZOFIzO4FSPpsH8Mo3DlZ7aNADSNbF-5_OthVJbI_ZdxOy_zCKDVRz2rJTJO1Oxiafv0GvSIuhdEtG0qt6unVRgVjSulKPdkv/w183-h200/John%20Heaviside,%20surgeon.png" width="183" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">John Heaviside</span></td></tr></tbody></table>done. Lord Falkland asked him to go to Dorant's Hotel and tell his wife, who soon arrived to watch at his bedside. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He lingered on in great pain. On Wednesday, two days after the duel, he was visited by his friend the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Augustus_Frederick,_Duke_of_Sussex" target="_blank">Duke of Sussex</a>, one of the sons of King George III. Towards the end his pain ceased and his death came gradually, in the early hours of Thursday morning, while his wife thought he was only sleeping.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now the people involved in the affair found themselves in a strange legal position. The practice of duelling had a sort of parallel existence to the world of the law. It was illegal, but it happened all the same. A few months after Lord Falkland's death, a <a href="https://www.historytoday.com/archive/months-past/castlereagh-canning-duel" target="_blank">famous duel</a> took place between Viscount Castlereagh and George Canning on Putney Heath – and this was at a time of war, and Castlereagh was Minister for War and Canning was Foreign Secretary.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes a duel was stopped. In October 1799, Admiral Sir John Orde had been arrested at Dorant's Hotel at 3 o'clock in the morning. Someone had informed the justices that he had challenged the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Jervis,_1st_Earl_of_St_Vincent" target="_blank">Admiral Earl St Vincent</a> to a duel because of his lasting rage that St Vincent had sent Admiral Nelson to pursue Bonaparte across the Mediterranean to Egypt, when Orde was the more senior officer. The elderly St Vincent – a vital figure in the war effort – was picked up as he came into London from Essex for the duel. But nobody had informed on Lord Falkland and Arthur Powell, and so Lord Falkland died at the age of 40 leaving little money, a widow and 4 small children.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">An autopsy was carried out and an inquest was held at which the witnesses who were called – the surgeon, Mr Powell's butler, and the nurse who attended on Lord Falkland – had to pretend that they had no idea how Lord Falkland came to be shot. The verdict was Wilful Murder against some person or persons unknown. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">His body was taken from Mr Powell's house to be buried in a vault in South Audley Street Chapel, Grosvenor Square. The <i>Westminster Journal and Old British Spy</i> reported that his remains were carried </div><div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">in a hearse with six horses, feathers, &c followed by two mourning coaches and six, in which were the friends of the deceased. His Lordship's carriage, Mr Heaviside's, and several others also attended</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lord Byron was very shaken by the death of his friend. He wrote to his mother four days later</div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">8, St. James’s-street, March 6th, 1809.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dear Mother,</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My last letter was written under great depression of spirits from poor Falkland’s death, who has left without a shilling four children and his wife. I have been endeavouring to assist them, which, God knows, I cannot do as I could wish, from my own embarrassments and the many claims upon me from other quarters.</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Lord Falkland's estate was swallowed up by his debts. Two months after his death, the <i>Morning Post</i> carried a notice</div><div></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Morning Post</i>, 18 May 1809</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We are authorised to state, that neither Lady Falkland nor her children can be interested in the property of the late Viscount Falkland, now selling by Messrs Robins, the whole of that property being sold for the benefit of the creditors, and it is feared that it will not be equal to the payment of their demands</div></blockquote><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGBZ2XBmiS4thiARZz7J1aOqruDfjVCO0c5xvfdV7Q_5ykIaQTxB4sR7b8mFDef1pWrKOVm2acjWFObUlW3pd-5y-wyXe2uMym4EH2-0UDUa386cnP_jLnOs1dezC0BKx828LL-k2ZbGi42H1wA0561h3SVLRCp5z4WYBqlRhtdDKGxQmbs2IFSL0/s460/Lord%20Byron,%20c1813%20by%20Thomas%20Phillips.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="369" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGBZ2XBmiS4thiARZz7J1aOqruDfjVCO0c5xvfdV7Q_5ykIaQTxB4sR7b8mFDef1pWrKOVm2acjWFObUlW3pd-5y-wyXe2uMym4EH2-0UDUa386cnP_jLnOs1dezC0BKx828LL-k2ZbGi42H1wA0561h3SVLRCp5z4WYBqlRhtdDKGxQmbs2IFSL0/w161-h200/Lord%20Byron,%20c1813%20by%20Thomas%20Phillips.jpg" width="161" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lord Byron c1813</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify;">Byron wrote of his friend</span> </div><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>He was a gallant and successful officer; his faults were the faults of a sailor, and as such Britons will forgive them</blockquote></span></div></div></div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">and he did his best for the widow, with the unfortunate result that the poor woman became quite fixated on him and began to believe – as did other female readers of his poetry – that she was the woman he adored. She harassed him with letters. He sent one of them in 1813 to one of her relatives with the comment, </div><div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">She is certainly mad or worse – I think you must really take some step or she will commit herself in some greater absurdity – I heard from her once before but did not like to trouble you again and soon – but really this is too bad </blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lord Falkland's cousin Lady Amherst stepped in to help the family financially, making sure that the boys had careers. The new Lord Falkland, six years old when his father died, went into the Army; his brothers entered the Navy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lady Falkland died in July 1822 at Vauxhall after 13 years of widowhood. She was buried with her husband. When their only daughter Emma died five years later, Lady Amherst had a tablet erected in Hutton Rudby church to commemorate them all.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>By then Lord Falkland's opponent was long dead. On 5 July 1813, the <i>Hampshire Chronicle</i> carried the report of an inquest on Arthur Annesley Powell, Esq., of the parish of Wherwell</div><div><blockquote>whose horse ran away and threw him off; and his head pitching against a stone it caused such a concussion, that, though he survived the fall several hours, he was totally insensible. Verdict - Accidental Death</blockquote></div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjgwHbU3tWc0_UGXFhXfyuiR6_78z8Pj8Ke-tCKlLKSahQl7njZJCjJOwulN7NLu2FeElvjwkNekDHSaw_EcvOTH4Q9j3aZkrnt9gALm2x27uIFHC0Gj_fDXeD95beBFfXePlHsvEH3MNFRO7zNXGda_12q1DkTpgzV15nRio2U0rE0ePzyv0FMAP/s1048/Screenshot_20230108_181206.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="1048" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBjgwHbU3tWc0_UGXFhXfyuiR6_78z8Pj8Ke-tCKlLKSahQl7njZJCjJOwulN7NLu2FeElvjwkNekDHSaw_EcvOTH4Q9j3aZkrnt9gALm2x27uIFHC0Gj_fDXeD95beBFfXePlHsvEH3MNFRO7zNXGda_12q1DkTpgzV15nRio2U0rE0ePzyv0FMAP/s320/Screenshot_20230108_181206.png" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grosvenor Chapel, South Audley Street, London W1 <br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">John Salmon, CC BY-SA 2.0</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-65378413283812828632023-02-25T08:00:00.001+00:002023-02-25T08:00:00.187+00:00All Saints, Hutton Rudby: who were the Cary family?<p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><div><i>A short account of the Cary family, for visitors to All Saints' Church, Hutton Rudby who see the memorials on the chancel walls and wonder who these people were. It includes new material, not before seen!</i></div><div><br /></div></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZZ3KaRm4wZwH3QuqZjl6W12Od6aJEH4iIz-sedp8URFTqw0iCKTXMnd7j-qncBhL9EH67e2JYLmTV545ZRBkui7rHAHeXjO0m8u4EAfgOSOFBTtElU0Vc3AUNdGgiir69UoWjeGY_17wGsmGptGy2ijzwmNmoe2ZKWfOeZyMBjiY-v6yCSpzRfU1/s732/Sir%20Arthur%20Ingram%20(c1565-1642).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="732" data-original-width="497" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZZ3KaRm4wZwH3QuqZjl6W12Od6aJEH4iIz-sedp8URFTqw0iCKTXMnd7j-qncBhL9EH67e2JYLmTV545ZRBkui7rHAHeXjO0m8u4EAfgOSOFBTtElU0Vc3AUNdGgiir69UoWjeGY_17wGsmGptGy2ijzwmNmoe2ZKWfOeZyMBjiY-v6yCSpzRfU1/w218-h320/Sir%20Arthur%20Ingram%20(c1565-1642).JPG" width="218" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sir Arthur Ingram (c1565-1642)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div>A few years before the outbreak of the Civil War in England, a wealthy man with a shady reputation bought the manor and lands of Rudby. His name was Sir Arthur Ingram (c1565-1642). A hundred years after his death, Rudby passed to his descendant Isabella Ingram and her husband George Cary. For over 150 years, the Cary family owned both Rudby and Skutterskelfe. They remembered their dead in memorial tablets lining the walls of the chancel of All Saints, Hutton Rudby – but only three of them were buried in the churchyard.</div></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">After Mrs Isabella Cary inherited Rudby from her father in 1742, her husband George bought the neighbouring lands and manor of Skutterskelfe. They didn't make their home close by the river in Rudby Hall opposite the church, but chose to live on the high ground of Skutterskelfe, with views across to the hills. They called their house Leven Grove.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSGW5W6G1EQUZtcZt9YnloA51QTnjNLpRTurAhKfdDYJMLDg0iverjh_phCPJrECjZ1gow12bUyriDPM6adKXSAlrvz-XQXxtwyPViRTpWujaNSk5VhYwCnUKouvu5tcVSSOR9ViiE55LYWygYh-7377Me6HBPgN42DuxHikbMGX_V2qBo2Dxghs4/s744/Soldier,%2043rd%20regiment%20of%20foot.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="385" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSGW5W6G1EQUZtcZt9YnloA51QTnjNLpRTurAhKfdDYJMLDg0iverjh_phCPJrECjZ1gow12bUyriDPM6adKXSAlrvz-XQXxtwyPViRTpWujaNSk5VhYwCnUKouvu5tcVSSOR9ViiE55LYWygYh-7377Me6HBPgN42DuxHikbMGX_V2qBo2Dxghs4/w104-h200/Soldier,%2043rd%20regiment%20of%20foot.JPG" width="104" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Soldier <br />43rd Regt of Foot</span> </td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">General George Cary was an army officer who served under King George II and King George III. He became a general in the 64th Regiment of Foot and then, when he was in his fifties, was given the honour of being appointed colonel of the 43rd Regiment either because he had served his king so well or because of his status in society – he was the brother of the 7th Viscount Falkland. </div><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">George died aged 81 in 1792 at the George Inn, the ancient posting inn in Coney Street, York. The York branch of Next stands on the site today. He was buried at Hutton Rudby.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8NrLGhQrLPTPlyF6TWio6LDUR53wC7gsH4Kn7t7qF8M_ukxHtXN6IKPFj262s1IfsjP4V2SKm2J7BMmc2wKy5QhsazJdpUyfY2ZRlKVKXzHFpQT1eesIAei-N-46ZAe2uXDwLQLW75RImWPFucTPzR32NaO0AbvM6bDb5NliDYL6bAwqmyvOd7aG/s602/George%20Inn,%20York%20by%20kind%20permission%20of%20family%20of%20Joseph%20Appleyard.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="575" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8NrLGhQrLPTPlyF6TWio6LDUR53wC7gsH4Kn7t7qF8M_ukxHtXN6IKPFj262s1IfsjP4V2SKm2J7BMmc2wKy5QhsazJdpUyfY2ZRlKVKXzHFpQT1eesIAei-N-46ZAe2uXDwLQLW75RImWPFucTPzR32NaO0AbvM6bDb5NliDYL6bAwqmyvOd7aG/w191-h200/George%20Inn,%20York%20by%20kind%20permission%20of%20family%20of%20Joseph%20Appleyard.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The old George Inn in York<br />reproduced with kind permission <br />of the family of <a href="http://www.josephappleyard.co.uk/" target="_blank">Joseph Appleyard</a> </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Mrs Isabella Cary died peacefully at Leven Grove and was buried with her husband on 17 April 1799. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">She was 81 years old. She had lived through eventful times. She had seen the reigns of three kings – all called George – the American War of Independence, the French Revolution, and the early years of Britain's long wars against Revolutionary France and Napoleon Bonaparte. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">When she was a little girl of eight or nine, living with her parents Arthur and Ann Ingram at Barrowby Hall near Leeds, she had kept a pet squirrel called Bun. He was a great favourite and so, when he died, he was buried in the garden of the Hall and the spot was marked with a gravestone. The inscription read</p><div style="text-align: center;">The sun that sets</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">the next morning gets,</div><div style="text-align: center;">But Bunne gone for ever.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The flowers that die</div><div style="text-align: center;">next Spring we espy,</div><div style="text-align: center;">But Bunne we shall never.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hjBtH0MMcsYlwhqi1QhlcIQm_5uijjQtNHjwRv_pQoiivTpCJW0hLq6PC3WR35m3mmx_p1D04EovzSdboal62skNpTbEPjjNawi5gGcVefRSYjMP4VUZFRCpokl44cHu18DkmtsxWjwqAcPgKIYpftfW94ezml_LlLlhwmoMYhxZ2ecKj-A9u9Zf/s259/Red%20squirrel.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="241" data-original-width="259" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hjBtH0MMcsYlwhqi1QhlcIQm_5uijjQtNHjwRv_pQoiivTpCJW0hLq6PC3WR35m3mmx_p1D04EovzSdboal62skNpTbEPjjNawi5gGcVefRSYjMP4VUZFRCpokl44cHu18DkmtsxWjwqAcPgKIYpftfW94ezml_LlLlhwmoMYhxZ2ecKj-A9u9Zf/w200-h186/Red%20squirrel.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The estates of Rudby and Skutterskelfe passed to Isabella's 22 year old grandson. He was the son of her daughter Catherine, who had married a baronet called Sir John Russell in Hutton Rudby church in 1774. Sir John's mansion house was Chequers in Buckinghamshire – which is often in the news today because since 1921 it has been the Prime Minister's country home. </div></div><div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfv6_K40WIo3_OFNzZL-YAV4YLylIpQliVK4PiXFjtzq-N-yfKUDxRbShHG50kbPUEASv9ZzlX1Lf_Ucb3fqtgLr9JmN3ik-oVQL2qK1-jEpFZRqEI6kI8CDdfaA2I4K47wjQ6OJvP1IatjXdRWZYg4RDDzopVZlQCcDR48x9_2a91OpIrUtT0f37/s1149/Chequers%20by%20Cnbrb.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="1149" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfv6_K40WIo3_OFNzZL-YAV4YLylIpQliVK4PiXFjtzq-N-yfKUDxRbShHG50kbPUEASv9ZzlX1Lf_Ucb3fqtgLr9JmN3ik-oVQL2qK1-jEpFZRqEI6kI8CDdfaA2I4K47wjQ6OJvP1IatjXdRWZYg4RDDzopVZlQCcDR48x9_2a91OpIrUtT0f37/w200-h124/Chequers%20by%20Cnbrb.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Chequers today (by Cnbrb)</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Catherine died young and Sir John died three years later, leaving their two little boys, John and George, to be brought up by relatives. Then John died at Chequers in 1802 aged 25 after a long illness and George died two years later of tuberculosis in Dorant's Hotel in London, aged 22.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Their mother's sister Elizabeth now inherited Rudby and Skutterskelfe. When she was 27 years old, she had been married to a 50 year old widower, Jeffery Amherst. He was famous for his part in the Seven Years' War against France and had been commander in chief of the British forces in North America. He built himself a large mansion house near Sevenoaks in Kent, where he had been born, and he called it Montreal Park after his most celebrated victory, the capture of Montreal in 1760. A few years after his marriage to Elizabeth he was given a peerage, becoming Lord Amherst. But today he is remembered for thinking it a good idea to try to infect the Native American tribes that were opposing the British with a fatal illness, the dreaded smallpox.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCBe5DToR-HqFfwPLfNCDPqAFHuG2ZWNaFLV6vwLBJTgQxUgaWUBw6vKWMNB0BG60PXWFNBxSx5d3XpNGurzA1Nz3nBKXcYZRrWKwuVNL5CiKeUuVW6QAHjV_77fKWHoaNBbcWNnx3pmJiBI36N-9mOdop8V31sfMDhkEhW7kRtWnDGFRNHxxxxYB/s738/Elizabeth,%20Lady%20Amherst%20by%20Reynolds.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="615" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCBe5DToR-HqFfwPLfNCDPqAFHuG2ZWNaFLV6vwLBJTgQxUgaWUBw6vKWMNB0BG60PXWFNBxSx5d3XpNGurzA1Nz3nBKXcYZRrWKwuVNL5CiKeUuVW6QAHjV_77fKWHoaNBbcWNnx3pmJiBI36N-9mOdop8V31sfMDhkEhW7kRtWnDGFRNHxxxxYB/w167-h200/Elizabeth,%20Lady%20Amherst%20by%20Reynolds.JPG" width="167" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lady Amherst in 1767</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Lady Amherst had no children of her own but she was a mother to three – her husband's orphaned nephew and niece, William and Elizabeth Amherst, and a baby girl who was given the name Fanny Williams. Fanny was the subject of fascinated gossip because nobody knew who her parents were. People said she was left in a basket on Lady Amherst's doorstep, with a banknote and a letter written by an anonymous lady who appealed to Lady Amherst's great kindness to bring up her baby. They thought Fanny must be the secret child of a high-born lady and her noble lover. </div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lady Amherst had a kindness for another girl – her cousin's granddaughter Emma Cary. Emma is praised and her parents are remembered on a memorial tablet which Lady Amherst had placed in Hutton Rudby church after Emma's death in 1827.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Emma was the daughter of a Naval officer, Charles John Cary, 9th Viscount Falkland and his wife Christiana Anton. Emma was born in 1805, a few months before Admiral Nelson's stunning victory over the French and Spanish fleets at the Battle of Trafalgar. When she was 3 years old, her father was court-martialled and dismissed from the command of his ship because of "drunkenness and unofficer-like behaviour". His career was beginning to recover when he fell into a violent quarrel with an acquaintance. Both men had been drinking. It led to a duel at 11 o'clock on a February morning in 1809 at Chalk Farm on the edge of London, and Lord Falkland was fatally wounded. He died a few days later, leaving his young widow with little money and four small children – three boys and Emma. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The poet Lord Byron was a good friend of Lord Falkland. He wrote, "He was a gallant and successful officer; his faults were the faults of a sailor, and as such Britons will forgive them" and he did his best to help the family. Unfortunately, Lady Falkland became quite obsessed with him, believing – as did other women who read his poetry – that she was the woman he adored. The poor lady finally died in 1822 when Emma was 17. Lady Amherst felt a good deal of responsibility for Emma and her brothers, as the eldest of them was her heir. She bought him a commission in the Army and provided for them all, but Emma died at the age of 21 after four days of painful illness. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lady Amherst had a London townhouse in Mayfair, but her country house at Skutterskelfe and her estates in Cleveland were very dear to her. She cherished her gardens and valued her gardener Arthur Douglas highly. He worked for her and her family for over fifty years. She liked her tenants to know their place – she will have expected a great deal of deference – but she made sure that her cottages were rented out with a plot of land attached to each. It made a great difference to poor villagers if they could grow food and keep an animal or two.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lady Amherst died at the age of 92 on 22 May 1830. She had asked to be buried at Hutton Rudby but – we don't know why – she was buried instead in Kent with her husband. Rudby and Skutterskelfe had belonged to a very old lady. Now they would belong to a young man, the 26 year old Lucius Bentinck Cary, 10th Viscount Falkland.</div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH62brDb4vvL2pjA3FH3Pu_Av6QaXUAZlLRUpaqOTWXu6B0lwZLSzF5sIK0UvKVx3dMrHtvlpY_jPM7j6KnYjLwUh59wRAQDNSI4msvbVKkfBA7U1Hb9AFRpEWUArtsgLV0rObvBOidA8aX5MQWv4hDcWg5fH7Nzmxk0LXFYmi2GflVgBNzrWV49Xn/s734/Amelia%20Fitzclarence.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="614" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH62brDb4vvL2pjA3FH3Pu_Av6QaXUAZlLRUpaqOTWXu6B0lwZLSzF5sIK0UvKVx3dMrHtvlpY_jPM7j6KnYjLwUh59wRAQDNSI4msvbVKkfBA7U1Hb9AFRpEWUArtsgLV0rObvBOidA8aX5MQWv4hDcWg5fH7Nzmxk0LXFYmi2GflVgBNzrWV49Xn/w168-h200/Amelia%20Fitzclarence.JPG" width="168" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Amelia Fitzclarence</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">A few months after Lady Amherst's death, Lucius married Amelia Fitzclarence in the Brighton Pavilion. Her father was King William IV, who had come to the throne that year after the death of his brother George IV. But Amelia was not a princess – her parents weren't married. Her mother was the famous and much-loved actress Dora Jordan. Actors were not socially acceptable and Dora had led a colourful life – she was not a suitable royal bride.</div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Soon after the wedding, Lord Falkland came north to mortgage his new estates and arrange for the old house at Skutterskelfe to be demolished and a new hall built. This is the hall – now called Rudby Hall – that we see today. In 1840, Lucius was appointed governor of Nova Scotia. His three years in Canada were not successful, although he certainly looked the part of the representative of Queen Victoria – he had been described as intemperate and unforgiving, "a tall, distinguished-looking man with a stately bearing and a severe, disdainful countenance which mirrored his aristocratic conceit and sensitive self-esteem". After Canada, he was appointed governor of Bombay and he and Amelia went out to India.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Amelia wrote a lively account of her travels in the East. In 1858, the year after her book came out, she died in London at the age of 55 after a short illness. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She had particularly wished to be buried in the churchyard in Hutton Rudby. Her body was brought north by special train and on 10 July 1858 she was buried in the Falkland vault on the south side of the churchyard. A great many people came to the funeral and many were in tears as the vicar Mr Barlow spoke of her generosity to those in need and her readiness to speak to everybody – "no one was too lowly for her to address, no one was too much despised by the world for her to stoop to and think of." She left one child, a son called Lucius.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lord Falkland died in the south of France in 1884 aged 80. He and his second wife had no children, and his son Lucius had died childless, so it was his younger brother who came into the title and inherited Rudby and Skutterskelfe. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">By this time, Plantagenet Pierrepont Cary, 11th Viscount Falkland was already an old man. He had served in the Navy from the age of 14, and became an Admiral at the age of 64 through promotions on the retired list after many years on half-pay. But he had married a very wealthy woman, so he had no need of money. He died childless in 1886 at the age of 80. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">His nephew Byron Plantagenet Cary became 12th Viscount Falkland. He had served 20 years in the Army, retiring in 1883 with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. In 1879 he had married a petite and energetic American heiress, Mary Reade, and for a few years in the 1890s he and his young family lived at Skutterskelfe Hall. During that time they were generous and active in village life. They set up a cottage hospital in Enterpen, Lord Falkland was a churchwarden and Lady Falkland was involved in all the village charities. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But there is no memorial to either of them in the church because they were the last of the Cary family to live here. Lord Falkland had to sell his northern estates in about 1895 because of financial difficulties caused by the business failure of his father-in-law Robert Reade. Rudby and Skutterskelfe were bought by Sir Robert Ropner, whose family owned them for the next 50 years.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The sketch of the Old George Inn in York is <span style="text-align: center;">reproduced with kind permission </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">of the family of </span><a href="http://www.josephappleyard.co.uk/" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">Joseph Appleyard</a></i></div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-6726765590522553732023-02-14T08:00:00.015+00:002023-02-14T08:00:00.193+00:00The Faceby Saints left today<p style="text-align: justify;">It's 14 February and so it's Valentine's Day – and on this day in 1855 a party of 28 people left the little North Yorkshire hamlet of Faceby. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">They didn't expect to see their old homes again. They didn't expect to see their loved ones again. They were "gathering to Zion". They were Mormons – the members of the Faceby Branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">They would travel by steam train, sailing ship, river steamboat, prairie waggon and on foot and they were going all the way from Yorkshire to Utah.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">For the remarkable story of the Faceby Saints, how they came to be Mormons, their gruelling journey and what happened to them in Utah, begin <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/11/mormons-in-faceby-1852-55.html#more" target="_blank">here</a> with my blogpost of 2 November 2012. It's called <i>Mormons in Faceby: 1852-55.</i></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-23858960321969224962023-01-28T08:00:00.001+00:002023-01-28T08:00:00.171+00:00Wash-day drudgery gone forever! <p>A reminder of how much washing machines changed women's lives. This one was a small, neat, quick machine.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAmslYVx8g6_rU3_Jsq3NwOZsCX-MLU43N0-aGmZ4NYFOIrfQzP0Q66hZWAfEdrLi_BdnucPNl_4WannoCIbqnLyMz-fDVeoMp7XjS_1YPiC95H9ppqn1JkHk2if_ag5ad2Kjhc3H2te1MxKCMqlKE612dbWKcgIG1XdAIHrpqyjTSxy9I_5oeWNj/s2048/IMG_1209.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAmslYVx8g6_rU3_Jsq3NwOZsCX-MLU43N0-aGmZ4NYFOIrfQzP0Q66hZWAfEdrLi_BdnucPNl_4WannoCIbqnLyMz-fDVeoMp7XjS_1YPiC95H9ppqn1JkHk2if_ag5ad2Kjhc3H2te1MxKCMqlKE612dbWKcgIG1XdAIHrpqyjTSxy9I_5oeWNj/w240-h320/IMG_1209.JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p><i>Picture Post, October 30, 1948</i></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">THE BIGGEST WASHING NEWS OF THE CENTURY!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">WASH-DAY DRUDGERY</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>GONE FOR EVER!</b></div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The <b>NEW HOOVER ELECTRIC WASHING MACHINE</b> – at a price that all can afford – of a size that will fit into every kitchen.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">All those dreary, boring, exhausting washing days, probably in a steamy, unhealthy atmosphere – wearing yourself out, spoiling vour hands, making yourself old – are gone for ever! The new Hoover Electric Washing Machine is here to set you free. It's marvellously efficient in every way; does the wash for a large family in a fraction of the time taken by old-fashioned methods; is wonderfully gentle with the clothes; is suitable for every home, even the smallest; and yet costs only £25 (plus purchase tax). Read all about it. It's the most important household development since the advent of the famous Hoover Cleaner.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>MUCH MORE TIME FOR YOURSELF</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">You'll be amazed how quickly – yet how thoroughly – the Hoover Washing Machine will work. You'll be through with your washing in a fraction of the time it takes you now and be free to get on with the other jobs, free to play with the children, free to do whatever you want to do most. You'll be delighted. You'll no longer think of washing day with dread, you'Il take it quite happily in your stride.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>NO MORE ROUGH, RED HANDS</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">"Washday hands", too, becomes a thing of the past. Nothing spoils hands so much – nothing makes them look so rough and red – as constantly dipping them in hot water. With the Hoover Washing Machine your hands get off very ligntly. You just drop the clothes in the tub and leave the machine to do the hard work. Right from the very first wash by this quick, new labour-saving method, you'll find your hands begin to improve – they'll be smoother, whiter, altogether more attractive.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>MORE ENERGY LEFT FOR PLEASURE</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">After a day at the wash-tub you generally feel like slumping back in a chair and putting your feet up. But not when you've a Hoover Washing Machine to do the hard work for you – and do it so quickly too. Instead of washing being a long, hard job, it becomes quick and easy. And afterwards you'll be fresh and full of go – ready to dance, go to the pictures or visit your friends. You'll be astonished at the difference it makes, having a Hoover Washing Machine.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>The gentlest way of washing clothes</i></b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">No other way of washing clothes is so safe as with the Hoover Washing Machine. It works on an entirely new principle. The "pulsator" (the device that keeps the water moving) is set in the side of the tub, thus agitating the water rather than churning the clothes – a big point when clothing coupons have to go so far.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>Does the washing for a large family in record time</b></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Besides being very gentle and very thorough, the Hoover Washing Machine is an exceptionally fast worker. Whites and coloureds are washed in 4 minutes; woollens in 1 minute. Even where there's a large family it does the job in a fraction of the time taken by old-fashioned methods. It is equally successful with every type of washing – whites, coloureds, woollens, silks, etc.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>Such an "easy-to-turn" wringer</b></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The wringer, too, will absolutely delight you – it turns so beautifully easily, saving you so much effort. It's extremely efficient, too. The soft rubber rollers are amazingly gentle with delicate fabrics, and yet it handles easily large bulky articles such as sheets.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>Low running costs – negligible electricity consumption</b></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Hoover Washing Machine in most cases uses less than ¼d worth of electricity to do the family wash. It is economical with soap. And of course, it makes an enormous difference to your laundry bills.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>Hoover Dependability</b></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Like the famous Hoover Cleaner, the Hoover Electric Washing Machine is guaranteed against faulty material and workmanship for one year. In assition, to ensure that it continues to give washing efficiency, there is a Hoover Half-Yearly Inspection Plan. Full details from your Authorised Hoover Dealer.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>So quick … So gentle ... So thorough</b></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>and such a handy size – fits under draining board</i></b></div></b></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The Hoover Washing Machine is so wonderfully compact that it can be tucked away under nearly all draining boards. It is quite light in weight, stands on domed feet so that you can easily pull it out when you want to use it, and is just the right height for you. It couldn't be more convenient.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">AND IT'S MADE BY HOOVER</div><div style="text-align: center;">MAKERS OF THE WORLD'S BEST CLEANERS</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgggqmENwGAGBae_Eg8zZHnSrqU1v_2L8le56C0xDIGC9ThasJbn2Dwccbhr5EDdfeY7jL4OWmtiC-yyKtyVKh9vFAeZzSSzflwgkkSvvPqXep_O2YWvc_6E50M8W1YR9fpTCNiKD7dLEL141srhKOe7_fgWZ9mdwki5CKzN94-_qw1Y3gLoJPKRoNY/s3342/Toy%20Hoover%20washing%20machine%204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3148" data-original-width="3342" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgggqmENwGAGBae_Eg8zZHnSrqU1v_2L8le56C0xDIGC9ThasJbn2Dwccbhr5EDdfeY7jL4OWmtiC-yyKtyVKh9vFAeZzSSzflwgkkSvvPqXep_O2YWvc_6E50M8W1YR9fpTCNiKD7dLEL141srhKOe7_fgWZ9mdwki5CKzN94-_qw1Y3gLoJPKRoNY/s320/Toy%20Hoover%20washing%20machine%204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And here's the same Hoover washing machine, but this time it's a toy dating from the late 1950s. It's been very well used by a number of children, as its condition shows only too well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was a bit splashy to fill, involving jugs of soapy water from the sink, but it was very cheap to run. In fact, it used no electricity at all. Just child-power.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">All the work is done by turning the handle, and the same handle works first the agitator in the tub and then the wringer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This machine worked very well for a long time. Admittedly, only a couple of handkerchiefs or a doll's dress or two would fit in, but they mangled beautifully. The tub has finally developed a split and its working days are over ... what a shame!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-24425782428176515162022-12-31T08:00:00.002+00:002023-01-09T19:24:36.204+00:00A small tin box – a Teesside "garden city" – a house in Nunthorpe<p style="text-align: justify;">Question: what is the link between the small tin box of sweets and cigarettes given to soldiers and sailors in World War I – the Redcar suburb of Dormanstown – and the 'Red House' on Church Lane in Nunthorpe-in-Cleveland?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Answer: they were all designed by the architects Stanley Davenport Adshead and Stanley Churchill Ramsey.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The tin: the <a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/look-inside-the-princess-mary-gift-fund-1914-box" target="_blank">Princess Mary Gift Fund Box</a></b></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwuAyDtfGHS5GFinxuotpNRYE9F2zG9az730X8QaHSdGXC8bxvridzwg5j2SW2ozTkJGts5f99lvg6W7ly-6ObQs85mSCcXYYOE4d-Bbkif4s8X89Nu2X4cjB3ppuVNey93aRr1eYYixTH8HM2GjSuOEP_V1Gnc-DABMoAb0hrOIPOrdttAtWAHnZ/s400/Princess%20Mary%20in%201932.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="334" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwuAyDtfGHS5GFinxuotpNRYE9F2zG9az730X8QaHSdGXC8bxvridzwg5j2SW2ozTkJGts5f99lvg6W7ly-6ObQs85mSCcXYYOE4d-Bbkif4s8X89Nu2X4cjB3ppuVNey93aRr1eYYixTH8HM2GjSuOEP_V1Gnc-DABMoAb0hrOIPOrdttAtWAHnZ/w167-h200/Princess%20Mary%20in%201932.jpg" width="167" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Princess Mary in 1932</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">In the autumn of 1914, the 17 year old <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary,_Princess_Royal_and_Countess_of_Harewood" target="_blank">Princess Mary</a> – only daughter of King George V and Queen Mary – decided that she wanted to give every soldier at the front and every sailor at sea a Christmas gift bought from her own allowance. It was a generous plan, but it was found to be unworkable and so it was decided instead that she should be the face of a fundraising campaign. She wasn't simply a figurehead of the campaign – she was deeply interested in the project and followed it closely. Her letter to the public says it all</div><p></p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I want you now to help me to send a Christmas present from the whole of the nation to every sailor afloat and every soldier at the front. I am sure that we should all be happier to feel that we had helped to send our little token of love and sympathy on Christmas morning, something that would be useful and of permanent value, and the making of which may be the means of providing employment in trades adversely affected by the war. Could there be anything more likely to hearten them in their struggle than a present received straight from home on Christmas Day?</blockquote><p></p><p></p><blockquote>Please will you help me?</blockquote><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiwCFg0w5h1QOnii_f76Gr3n7Zl9Tb9Barzh7X8Kg9BWcq_5CKAcEiEsKOTJ4J5n9M6ZJuoOgmmj7gyQn8ZsXseBmHzypaXJxn9intV228RkuzQvAd7kO0ZPYJkfOWQNP_llxR9nN0KiunJSOzpo0jSBmNbTMiBiLg7XBdJPmcfyLTnUbF0hVddSeK/s3225/Princess%20Mary%20Gift%20Fund%20Box%20sent%20to%20Major%20TDH%20Stubbs.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2383" data-original-width="3225" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiwCFg0w5h1QOnii_f76Gr3n7Zl9Tb9Barzh7X8Kg9BWcq_5CKAcEiEsKOTJ4J5n9M6ZJuoOgmmj7gyQn8ZsXseBmHzypaXJxn9intV228RkuzQvAd7kO0ZPYJkfOWQNP_llxR9nN0KiunJSOzpo0jSBmNbTMiBiLg7XBdJPmcfyLTnUbF0hVddSeK/s320/Princess%20Mary%20Gift%20Fund%20Box%20sent%20to%20Major%20TDH%20Stubbs.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The troops' present came in the form of a small, brass, water-tight box. For most of the men, the box contained tobacco, cigarettes and chocolate but everyone was catered for – non-smokers, nurses, Gurkhas, Sikhs, other troops from India, authorised camp followers ...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Many men sent the boxes home as a present for their wives and families; many re-used and long treasured the empty tins. This was the box kept by the Middlesbrough solicitor, <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/11/war-begins-nunthorpe-1914.html" target="_blank">Major Thomas Duncan Henlock ("Duncan") Stubbs</a>, a Territorial officer with the Northumbrian (Heavy) Battery, Royal Garrison Artillery.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's a small metal tin embossed with a picture of the Princess. In the surrounding border can be seen the words 'Belgium', 'Imperium Britannicum', 'Japan', 'Russia', 'Montenegro', 'Christmas 1914', 'Servia' and 'France'. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">There had been no difficulty in raising the money. In fact, so much was raised – mostly from the thousands of small donations sent in by ordinary people – that there was enough to include everyone wearing the King's uniform in Christmas 1914, prisoners of war and the next of kin of 1914 casualties. There were more difficulties, in the conditions of war time, in sourcing the contents and enough brass to<span style="text-align: left;"> make the boxes. Gift boxes were still being sent out in 1918. </span><span style="text-align: left;">The tins were designed </span><a href="https://www.rct.uk/collection/75331" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">were designed</a><span style="text-align: left;"> by the architects </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanley_Adshead" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Stanley Davenport Adshead</a><span style="text-align: left;"> (1868–1946) and his partner </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanley_Ramsey" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Stanley Churchill Ramsey</a><span style="text-align: left;"> (1882-1968).</span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Stanley Adshead was the first professor of town planning in this country, appointed by Liverpool University in 1909, the year of the first Town Planning Act. He took Stanley Ramsey into his practice as a junior partner in 1910, when the King had invited him to carry out a survey for the Duchy of Cornwall estate in Kennington.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKMqGS6odqZ2-aMI-zo3UqMiWdAH3UH5LDp0XIyUzt9i_I-aniWW6y31DrbVEdoNuvm47RDXNu6krAREWTJpFayADpKfq2_blLLoMwTUI2HgJ7KLmUV8ersSI_iwpZJUbZfoG8uIbKLA_mQR7PdkbVN8jCCda0bUJabZdEgKkL71yqvaLcu7LkLSL/s352/Stanley-Davenport-Adshead.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="292" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKMqGS6odqZ2-aMI-zo3UqMiWdAH3UH5LDp0XIyUzt9i_I-aniWW6y31DrbVEdoNuvm47RDXNu6krAREWTJpFayADpKfq2_blLLoMwTUI2HgJ7KLmUV8ersSI_iwpZJUbZfoG8uIbKLA_mQR7PdkbVN8jCCda0bUJabZdEgKkL71yqvaLcu7LkLSL/w166-h200/Stanley-Davenport-Adshead.jpg" width="166" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Stanley Adshead in 1927</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The Garden City of </b><span style="text-align: left;"><b><a href="https://www.hidden-teesside.co.uk/2012/09/27/the-garden-city-of-dormanton-dormanstown/" target="_blank">Dormanstown</a></b></span></p><p>In 1917 Messrs Dorman, Long & Co built their new Iron and Steel Works at Redcar. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Dorman, Long & Co were steel manufacturers, bridge builders & constructional engineers. An internationally significant company from the heyday of the Industrial Revolution, founded by Sir Alfred and his partner Albert de Lande Long in 1875, by the 1920s it would have over a dozen iron and steelworks across Teesside, together with mines and quarries, London offices in Westminster and Cannon Street, a wharf at Battersea, offices in Manchester, Nottingham and Calcutta and associated companies in South Africa and South America. They built bridges across the Tyne, the Nile and the Limpopo. They made the steel for bridges in India and Burma and for the Lambeth Bridge across the Thames. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">In 1917 the USA entered the war and an end to the fighting came in sight. It was a time of great change – there was a huge shortage of workers' housing, the iron and steel industry was in flux, there were shortages of materials and labour, and people were beginning to look to the return of the troops. Conscription had revealed the scale of the poor state of public health. Electoral reform was on its way. After the war, things would and should be different. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Dorman Long wanted to give their workers a standard of life that wouldn't simply meet minimum requirements, but would </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">encourage, develop and secure that spirit of loyal service and co-operation which is recognised by enlightened employers of labour as a vital factor in the success of industrial enterprise.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The company decided to build housing for its Redcar workers – a new "Garden City" or "Industrial Village" called, at first, Dormantown and then Dormanstown.</p><p>The chosen architects were Messrs Adshead and Ramsey together with <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Abercrombie" target="_blank">Patrick Abercrombie</a>.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Influenced by social reformers and commentators such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florence_Bell_(writer)" target="_blank">Florence Bell</a> (1851-1930) whose <i>At the Works</i> had been published in 1907, and in collaboration with local and central government – particularly the Ministry of Health – and after consultation with the workmen, the architects' brief was to create healthy conditions for the workforce, in stark contrast to the insanitary, overcrowded conditions of much workers' housing on Teesside, where infectious disease was rife. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The streets of Dormanstown would be wide – there would be trees and grass, shops and facilities, play areas and open spaces – and the houses would have front and back gardens, electricity, hot and cold water and an indoor WC and bath.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">They were designed in the newly fashionable Neo-Georgian style, which blended the modern desire for simplicity and regularity with the traditional look of 18th and early 19th century housing. White-rendered houses – mostly semis, but with some short terraces – with plain frontages, sash windows and six-panelled doors were built. They echoed the Georgian architecture of local towns and villages such as Great Ayton, Guisborough, Yarm. </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSt7EoLYt6pZQ9jGLkx0jxebfILnTolUoboJnnu3_Lo4XfdO1qEUMj6CNHpNxjDQFzXZN3RpFiIaH31DnpFfn4ATrLz9LRlK-PUMy-mvcpPjlIq8tPTc7jxhck0GDHiKh3OIXtcq8DsvDLvGQKPJ1Gf2r714DGDXw1B04eFhvXbnVutocdo2W18mJj/s716/Dorlonco%20houses%20under%20construction,%20Dormanstown%201920.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="442" data-original-width="716" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSt7EoLYt6pZQ9jGLkx0jxebfILnTolUoboJnnu3_Lo4XfdO1qEUMj6CNHpNxjDQFzXZN3RpFiIaH31DnpFfn4ATrLz9LRlK-PUMy-mvcpPjlIq8tPTc7jxhck0GDHiKh3OIXtcq8DsvDLvGQKPJ1Gf2r714DGDXw1B04eFhvXbnVutocdo2W18mJj/s320/Dorlonco%20houses%20under%20construction,%20Dormanstown%201920.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dorlonco houses under construction, Dormanstown 1920</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The first 300 houses were built of brick, but then the authorities approved an experimental prefabricated construction using precast concrete and steel. </span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">This was Dorman, Long's own 'Dorlonco' system. It was described in a newspaper article of 24 July 1919 </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">A steel frame is first set up on similar lines to the American skyscrapers, and on this is wired strong, rough netting, as a foundation for the concrete walls</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The houses could be built by the company's own workforce with easily obtainable materials, and quickly. A 2-tonne steel frame, pre-cut and prepared in the factory, could be put up by 4 unskilled men in a day. And as houses were urgently needed across the country, Dorlonco houses were built by many local authorities until the mid 1920s. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, things didn't work out entirely as planned. Infectious diseases like scarlet fever, TB and diphtheria persisted – the people of Dormanstown were too much exposed to the noxious fumes from the steel mills and the raw damp from the sea – and the Dorlonco system had a flaw. When the render shrank, it exposed the steel laths and rods, which had no protective bitumen coating, to corrosion. At Dormanstown, built on low lying, marshy land near the North Sea, salt-laden air and driving rain led to rusting.</p><p>But in the early days this wasn't known and everything looked promising. </p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">In the spring of 1919, Major Duncan Stubbs returned from the war. He chose not to go back into private practice as a solicitor, but instead to put his talents as an administrator and lawyer to work in industry for an old family friend, Sir Arthur Dorman. On 13 May 1919, he became Company Secretary of Dorman, Long. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAnGO93OHwIFp7bHld7VJJ1GRgEp-ZJAKyElTSD1QV7ZFCbZRVHmPmyOK8GNdGNNOM0jQJ3E_n6rEGxoAzmZXsdTINxO6-V6fRHmFYvG0SdYgT5jooQjkkWKfh3Syu_BtdTnxqBUhbL2JpMPgoi1b167sDfWkdCwfUPHhMNLclDFWIqNs2amT7Fg2/s480/Major%20TDH%20Stubbs%20at%20the%20building%20of%20a%20Dorlonco%20house%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="350" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFAnGO93OHwIFp7bHld7VJJ1GRgEp-ZJAKyElTSD1QV7ZFCbZRVHmPmyOK8GNdGNNOM0jQJ3E_n6rEGxoAzmZXsdTINxO6-V6fRHmFYvG0SdYgT5jooQjkkWKfh3Syu_BtdTnxqBUhbL2JpMPgoi1b167sDfWkdCwfUPHhMNLclDFWIqNs2amT7Fg2/s320/Major%20TDH%20Stubbs%20at%20the%20building%20of%20a%20Dorlonco%20house%20(2).jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Major Duncan Stubbs & a Dorlonco house under construction</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The Red House, Church Lane, Nunthorpe</b></p><p>After the War, the Stubbs family returned to live at Red Croft on Guisborough Road, Nunthorpe, and they were living there when Dorman Long got the contract to build the Sydney Harbour Bridge. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uR-bW780frdZev_Z2rDP1DrUGkLZZR0PsV8ejTEfVpr28n1jbzq9i-HfTJZeCIu_dbEi9HcnOu5WaSbxH14QtUVjv4CxKb0AEyHqMj0J6ccpxSmGjgb2rOHAR3z3Et0CK7Mw6J950YY7XhNNMiUeOYmwmvB0IwUocXXHQdSvalZGSj5VTigVCCNi/s1704/Sir%20Arthur%20Dorman.JPEG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="1190" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uR-bW780frdZev_Z2rDP1DrUGkLZZR0PsV8ejTEfVpr28n1jbzq9i-HfTJZeCIu_dbEi9HcnOu5WaSbxH14QtUVjv4CxKb0AEyHqMj0J6ccpxSmGjgb2rOHAR3z3Et0CK7Mw6J950YY7XhNNMiUeOYmwmvB0IwUocXXHQdSvalZGSj5VTigVCCNi/s320/Sir%20Arthur%20Dorman.JPEG" width="223" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sir Arthur Dorman</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">In fact, Sir Arthur Dorman was at Red Croft for tea with the family one day when the telephone rang. Duncan's teenage daughter <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2015/07/days-of-plenty-in-redcar-middle-class.html" target="_blank">Katharine</a> took the call. The caller needed an answer from Sir Arthur – she took the message and Sir Arthur instructed her to make the reply, "Yes". When she came back into the room, he told her that she had held the fate of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in her hands. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Sir Arthur lived near Nunthorpe and he was the village's benefactor. He had rebuilt the village school – the new church of St Mary the Virgin would soon be built on the lane that led to Nunthorpe Grange and Morton Carr farms on land given by him – and the houses that had grown up around Nunthorpe railway station were also his work. His great house, Grey Towers, stood a little way from the station, in parkland near the old village. A keen horticulturalist, he had built terraced rock gardens and in his woods had planted an example of every type of tree that it was possible to grow in England.</p><p>Duncan Stubbs planned to build a house for himself on Church Lane.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In 1922, he bought the land for his new house and he chose Messrs Adshead and Ramsey to be his architects. Their Neo-Georgian style was fashionable for the new country houses being built for upper and professional middle classes.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The house would stand in a commanding position in the rolling North Riding countryside, with a view across fields to Roseberry Topping and the Cleveland Hills. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">His 18 year old daughter Katharine laid the first brick in the foundations of the north-west corner of their new house in March 1923. Every detail of the house's design was attended to; Mr Ramsey even designed the light switches. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Red House, built of locally hand-made brick with a red-tiled roof, was designed to look mellow and serene from the beginning. The drive curved down from Church Lane towards the front door between avenues of limes, and, so that the new house would not stand in a raw, barren landscape, these trees were planted before building even began. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojGU9o4G_lZFhIYNNRC-_YzgBxxy_BKGPe2Acekaksd5lHL7KpiR1MuTjJF523IcknXRXz8vRRK610_ifRtgqS3Q7i5lsjnApvwLnZkMPL7jvV8lcfSSnW7mSJ2hJ9jhDGxsKu5s246Fvg0oeAWT0vxptnQ7TIIzkRCWNmu5LhHhl4motWNAu1bhw/s640/The%20Red%20House%20no%204;%20Leonard's%20first%20sports%20car%20the%20HE-%20Herbert%20Engineering.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="640" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojGU9o4G_lZFhIYNNRC-_YzgBxxy_BKGPe2Acekaksd5lHL7KpiR1MuTjJF523IcknXRXz8vRRK610_ifRtgqS3Q7i5lsjnApvwLnZkMPL7jvV8lcfSSnW7mSJ2hJ9jhDGxsKu5s246Fvg0oeAWT0vxptnQ7TIIzkRCWNmu5LhHhl4motWNAu1bhw/w400-h284/The%20Red%20House%20no%204;%20Leonard's%20first%20sports%20car%20the%20HE-%20Herbert%20Engineering.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Red House, 1924<br />with Alfred Leonard Hill's HE (Herbert Engineering) sports car</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The rooms faced south to the sun and the view of the Cleveland Hills. The grounds would include formal gardens, lawns, orchard, paddocks, tennis courts, a kitchen garden and a wild garden. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHQyRYDgYYn-1uKRzKvVPSeKEW-FGGfOfHyNC6qfDjBRsgCJTb3VEbl2_tn0xAgjz8KzH80AglUodvz_NUb6lyeiEjjRtT1OSrdbgK0PkoZe8e5mykKa71A2YUGESht8bESAcgMsIL-5Y2BSFZEN0Xa3czfYHLjOSeTfMYi1xL4PGvK5UX5QwGU8g/s3859/The%20Red%20House-4,%20high%20res,%20cropped.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2551" data-original-width="3859" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHQyRYDgYYn-1uKRzKvVPSeKEW-FGGfOfHyNC6qfDjBRsgCJTb3VEbl2_tn0xAgjz8KzH80AglUodvz_NUb6lyeiEjjRtT1OSrdbgK0PkoZe8e5mykKa71A2YUGESht8bESAcgMsIL-5Y2BSFZEN0Xa3czfYHLjOSeTfMYi1xL4PGvK5UX5QwGU8g/w400-h265/The%20Red%20House-4,%20high%20res,%20cropped.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Red House</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The house and garage, with a yard between them, formed one long block enclosed by a continuous external wall. The entrance from the drive was given dignity and importance by a portico and distinctive circular windows to either side of the front door, but it was the frontage to the hills – so clearly seen across the fields from the Stokesley road – that was designed to be the more imposing. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The house consisted of: dining room, inner hall (used as a sitting room), drawing room, study, 3 large bedrooms (the master bedroom had a dressing room and there was a dressing room for guests) and 2 smaller bedrooms. On the second floor were the maids' bedrooms, reached by back stairs. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The service end of the house, through the green baize door near the dining room, contained the kitchen, larder, butler's pantry, scullery and washhouse. Beyond the kitchen was a yard with the coal store – deliveries were made through the double doors which can be seen on the photograph of the front of the house – and beyond it was the garage.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The impression on crossing the threshold was of light and air. The front inner door was of glass and the view was directly through the inner hall towards the garden and hills. The halls, dining room, drawing room and study all had oak floors and an impressive oak staircase led to the first floor. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">From the inner hall, a couple of steps dropped down to a terrace overlooking the hills and a further flight led down to the tennis courts. There were kennels and garages, outhouses and two tennis courts. The house had central heating, powered by a Robin Hood Royal boiler. The design assumed an unending supply of cheap fuel and easily available domestic staff.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMcDaPfA76RWsEzXygx5a0M986b74yqp5Dr83w5JQOV7V2xtrHyo8d8M2gzxoo81FbwjWT5ISnWfSlIdhdjnXxr9Rq1dt5RFqQl4Bestz8wyuGVwLTmoEQkebU7sptOvX2wYVFc1sypo2LIYj_9C9LA1OA6aGOx-rjGlFGiQVo8fRddB7gOizfx7Z/s927/At%20the%20wedding%20of%20Katharine%20Stubbs%20&%20Leonard%20Hill%20-%20Commander%20Walter%20Raleigh%20Gilbert%20&%20Stanley%20Ramsay%201926.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="927" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMcDaPfA76RWsEzXygx5a0M986b74yqp5Dr83w5JQOV7V2xtrHyo8d8M2gzxoo81FbwjWT5ISnWfSlIdhdjnXxr9Rq1dt5RFqQl4Bestz8wyuGVwLTmoEQkebU7sptOvX2wYVFc1sypo2LIYj_9C9LA1OA6aGOx-rjGlFGiQVo8fRddB7gOizfx7Z/w156-h200/At%20the%20wedding%20of%20Katharine%20Stubbs%20&%20Leonard%20Hill%20-%20Commander%20Walter%20Raleigh%20Gilbert%20&%20Stanley%20Ramsay%201926.jpg" width="156" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Stanley Ramsey (right) <br />at Katharine Stubbs' wedding</span> </td></tr></tbody></table>On 3 June 1924, the family moved in. <p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Guests soon followed and the Visitor's Book shows that the first to arrive, in mid July, were the architect Stanley Ramsey and his wife. Two years later, Stanley Ramsey was at Katharine Stubbs' wedding to Alfred Leonard Hill on 13 July 1926.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Red House was an ideal house for entertaining. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">One of the earliest parties was described years later by Katharine</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">We gave a garden party for Dorman Long office workers to celebrate the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Tennis (two courts) on the lawn and a room cleared for dancing indoors. Buffet in the garden. A lovely hot day</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">In 1931, Duncan Stubbs was digging a hole for the back gatepost when he had a heart attack; he died at the Red House a few days later, on 18 March. He was buried in the graveyard of the new church, his coffin carried on a farm wagon from the house – the same wagon and the same horse that had taken the coffin of Sir Arthur Dorman a few weeks before. As they stood in the churchyard, the family could hear Duncan's dogs howling at the house – somehow they knew their master was gone.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Note: the original garage became a separate house some decades ago, and the house itself has been much altered over the years by successive owners</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Sources</i></p><div style="text-align: justify;">For Dormanstown, see <i>Modernity, Tradition and the Design of the 'Industrial Village' of Dormanstown 1917–1923</i> by Cheryl Buckley </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Journal of Design History, Vol. 23, No. 1, Model, Method and Mediation in the History of Housing Design (2010), pp. 21-41 (21 pages)<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The photograph of Stanley Adshead is by Bassano, the society photographer, and is in the National Portrait Gallery (NPG x124052)</div><div><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-40958499060370990872022-10-29T08:00:00.001+01:002022-10-29T08:00:00.178+01:00The Poltergeist at Moor Farm, North Yorkshire: 1940 to 1950<div style="text-align: justify;">This is a record kept by <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2020/12/the-vassal-singers-in-nunthorpe-before.html " target="_blank">Kay Hill</a> of unnerving experiences in a moorland farm during and after World War II.</div><p style="text-align: justify;">In 1938 Kay had become – in the slang of the time – a Bolter. </p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">She had left her very comfortable life at Carlton Manor, the country house set, the trips to London to have her hair done, the holidays abroad with her husband, the ironmaster and amateur racing driver Leonard Hill – and she had left her young daughter too – and she had run off to live with a local race horse trainer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTw0wnt4zZhcsJ0FrHoqQIbS7TizPORDXoflrZH9BgJefDUIQgtvTY-c-Agw7Nti23sQB_ZR_aSPXwxXv2Qrd88APSjGxbfZ8JmFkowrqnEnAnT5drT2BapK1tgL1IxM3HCRQ8HFku7Cs5lovMAclG-4yd7Moy2fyeL5XfoUDTHHzhcEINEgUaoFN/s3810/Kay%20Hill,%20%20Filey%201939.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2534" data-original-width="3810" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWTw0wnt4zZhcsJ0FrHoqQIbS7TizPORDXoflrZH9BgJefDUIQgtvTY-c-Agw7Nti23sQB_ZR_aSPXwxXv2Qrd88APSjGxbfZ8JmFkowrqnEnAnT5drT2BapK1tgL1IxM3HCRQ8HFku7Cs5lovMAclG-4yd7Moy2fyeL5XfoUDTHHzhcEINEgUaoFN/s320/Kay%20Hill,%20%20Filey%201939.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Kay Hill: Filey 1939</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">At first they lived in Filey, where he kept his horses at Foords Hotel Stables and exercised them on the sands, but when war broke out and the beaches were closed, they moved away from the coast to live and work at a moorland farm. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Racing continued through the war, <a href="https://grandnational.horseracing.guide/5722/horse-racing-during-the-wars/" target="_blank">though much reduced</a>, because the government decided it was a boost to the country's morale.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I don't know that the current owners would want me to name the farm, so I haven't. (Do contact me if you think you know which one it was). And I didn't feel it right to identify Kay's partner and his sons. I've called him Alfred and his sons Brian and Peter. I knew Peter well; a lovely man. The boys lived with their grandparents after they lost their mother when they were very small, aged only 2 and 4. Kay was Katharine Stubbs, only daughter of <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2018/09/midshipman-john-duncan-stubbs-1899-1914.html" target="_blank">Major Duncan Stubbs and his wife Madge Buchannan</a>.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Kay refers to Alfred as "the farmer" in this account and she doesn't explain him at all. This seems to be because she always intended to share the story, which she finally sent to the Incorporated Society for Psychical Research in 1977. She kept her married name throughout her long life – she died aged 100 – she wrote under that name, and she was well known as Kay Hill in the world of Siamese cat breeding.</p><div style="text-align: center;">Her account begins in early 1940 when she was 34 years old and Alfred was 36: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><b>The Poltergeist at Moor Farm: 1940-1950</b></div><p style="text-align: center;"><b>by Kay Hill</b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkE9iMJer2ksOU1EthBDnmi8MzV4gTdZiifG3kDSc3DlftgYgnnlvQb31yBu-2lTQV3_3FKNi6PZf841C4h9UdZDw-HatJdVAgukW0eCWudK_9LLjeW174jJWstQ-GFWgAQ_w5ubPU6nzdHdDThTQUgnA1IXdFs9oD4tGvhIPenxpnxl6Hpr7lDTbd/s1474/Moor%20Farm,%20painted%20by%20Kay%20Hill.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1474" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkE9iMJer2ksOU1EthBDnmi8MzV4gTdZiifG3kDSc3DlftgYgnnlvQb31yBu-2lTQV3_3FKNi6PZf841C4h9UdZDw-HatJdVAgukW0eCWudK_9LLjeW174jJWstQ-GFWgAQ_w5ubPU6nzdHdDThTQUgnA1IXdFs9oD4tGvhIPenxpnxl6Hpr7lDTbd/w400-h185/Moor%20Farm,%20painted%20by%20Kay%20Hill.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Moor Farm, painted by Kay Hill</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">According to accounts of poltergeists, including that of John Wesley's family, there is often a sound of flying & clucking & almost always someone in the house sees an animal such as a hare or a cat. Children see it so often they have given it pet names; & this has happened in one generation after another for centuries past</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">References: "Poltergeists over England" and "Poltergeists" by Sacheverell Sitwell </div><p style="text-align: center;"><b>War Years</b></p><p><u></u></p><blockquote><p><u>Note</u></p><div style="text-align: left;">There was no electricity supply on the farms up the Moor Road until after the War. <br />The blackout was in force and we had paraffin lamps and candles</div></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">When I first came to the farm in the late spring of 1940, I had my own furniture with me, and was given the choice of two rooms, as my bedroom. I moved my furniture into the lighter of the rooms, and the other became the spare room.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Within a week of moving in, I had to make the enormous effort of changing over the furniture in both rooms. It was a busy time of year on the farm, and I only had the Land Girl to help me. My reasons for moving seemed ridiculous, and the whole thing was most unpopular. I made an excuse that the room over the kitchen, which I still occupy, was the drier of the two; and after a day of violent effort I made my escape from the thing that had frightened me.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I had been woken up by the sound of something flying round the room, and could hear the beat of its wings. I had the horrifying thought that it might be a bat, so I shone my electric torch, and the flying stopped.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">As soon as I put the torch out, the flying started again.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I got out of bed, shut the window, and put up the blackout. I lit the lamp and searched the top of the wardrobe, and all round the room, and under the furniture. I opened the wardrobe door and shook the clothes.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">When I went back to bed and turned the lamp out, the flying started again. I was not at all afraid, but extremely annoyed at being kept awake. I sat up in bed with my torch on the sheet, and when the thing was in mid flight switched it on. The flying stopped instantly. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The flying made a sound like the beating of wings of considerable power. As when a woodpigeon passes low overhead at dusk, you can hear the air passing through the feathers of the wings.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">This went on for some considerable time, until I lit the lamp, and went to sleep with the light on.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The next night it all started again, and continued in the same way for five successive nights. By this time I was short of sleep, and rather frightened. I talked about it to other people, but it sounded ridiculous and was put down to starlings, or rats, with which opinion I was inclined to agree; although I knew that I had not satisfied myself with such an easy explanation.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The last night in the room there was no flying. I was kept awake by a carthorse on the road outside, which went up and down with a steady clop clop clop of hooves on the macadam. I went to the window with the idea of going out and putting the horse back in the field. I could hear no horse on the road, and our own horse was in the field near the water trough, a few yards from the house. When I went back to bed the horse started walking again. It was then that I realised that the sound was in the room – but like a ventriloquist throwing it about, so that it was impossible to tell from where it came. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">By this time the room frightened me, and I made up my mind to move, however much trouble it caused. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">From this time the noisy room became the spare room. An endless succession of visitors slept in it. My friend Mrs Macfarlane came for weeks on end, during the school term, & Brian the farmer's son came in the school holidays. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">No one ever made a complaint, and the whole thing was forgotten. I never associated the sounds with poltergeists, because I thought of them as some sort of German forest thing, like an Irish leprechaun. It was not until I read Sacheverell Sitwell's book on Poltergeists that I realised that the flying and the clucking were very ordinary manifestations.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">When Peter, the farmer's younger son, first spent his school holidays at the farm, the whole thing was forgotten. He was about thirteen years old, and was living with his grandparents during the time he was at Coatham School.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I found that he was burning candles in the night to such an extent, that I guessed that he was frightened. As he had been badly bombed I put it down to this, and thought it better not to say anything to him. At that time he was very much the ardent Boy Scout, and would rather have died than admit to any sort of fear.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I tactfully provided him with a box of nightlights and a saucer of water. About this time he started taking the dog to his room at nights, and would search the farm rather than go to bed without him. He was burning a night light through every night, and I began to be rather worried.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">One morning he called to me, "Come and look at this." I went into his room. Down at the bottom of the bed by his feet were broken pieces of lamp glass and his leg was cut and bleeding. There was a stable light standing upright on his chest of drawers minus its glass, but with the wire guard still intact around it. It was the glass from this lamp down his bed – yet his hands were not marked.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBGt_u-exfGoB_fe7EHJWT8and3TD0JKOIFvpuqUadNyMqUjKYeNdTwuCOObzN_41bFFLrmnGTfzebNwnaYgxGeyd7-tCAJf0ttD8EC_fLBvFr8qjF5q7cr_BRAfibw9NmSlyN5OQTJWqsTZeAiVht6QMegdtwg2Veim14BaTuOwRYhOI8G_esU6E/s1214/sketch%20of%20stable%20lamp.JPEG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="1214" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBGt_u-exfGoB_fe7EHJWT8and3TD0JKOIFvpuqUadNyMqUjKYeNdTwuCOObzN_41bFFLrmnGTfzebNwnaYgxGeyd7-tCAJf0ttD8EC_fLBvFr8qjF5q7cr_BRAfibw9NmSlyN5OQTJWqsTZeAiVht6QMegdtwg2Veim14BaTuOwRYhOI8G_esU6E/w200-h138/sketch%20of%20stable%20lamp.JPEG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Kay's sketch of the stable lamp</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">I decided to ask him to tell me his opinion of the matter. He poured out a story of terrified nights when he dare not move in bed, because he knew there was something in the room. Of sounds he could not account for – "I took Laddie to bed because when there was a queer noise, I would say "That was only Laddie.""</p><p style="text-align: justify;">After this he was moved out of the room, and he shared a bedroom with his elder brother and there was no more trouble.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">One thing that interested me – he never heard either flying or clucking.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Peter at this age was a violently active intelligent but unimaginative boy. He never read a book, except on a technical subject, such as aircraft, motor cars, or horses. He was extremely truthful, and would face punishment rather than tell a lie. Since then he has become a very promising amateur jockey in point to points, and "over the sticks" and is physically afraid of nothing. The only way in which I consider him unusual, is his intuition about people, which is sometimes so accurate as to be almost psychic.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">By the summer of 1947 we had all decided that the poltergeist, if it was one, had gone for good. Alfred (the farmer) was occupying the room, and had at various times slept with his door wide open "To let it fly out"; but he never would discuss the matter, and said that in any case he was not frightened.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">At the time of the heat wave, he was away in Ireland. I was changing the bed linen in all the rooms, and found that whereas my room over the kitchen was intolerably hot – the other room was cool. That night I decided to sleep there. I fell asleep not at all afraid, as it was midsummer and not dark. I was awakened by a thunderous rap on the chest of drawers about a yard from my head, where the stable lamp had stood in Peter's day. I did not wait for any more trouble, but went downstairs and spent the night on a sofa in the sitting room. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the past winter months we have had endless trouble, and a variety of manifestations which became more alarming.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Alfred reluctantly admitted that something flies; that it clucks "like a broody hen"; that it plucked at his sleeve – and gave him a sharp rap on the ankle in bed. That it opens and shuts a door in the bedroom that isn't there, and lets in a draught. As he sleeps with his door wide open I have at various times heard him say out loud, "Stop it" to something that is annoying him. (He is so concerned with the horses in the yard he seldom sleeps with the door shut and seems to hear the slightest sound of anything wrong in the stableyard)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I always come out of the "ghost" room backwards, whether in daylight or at night. I would never turn my back on that presence. Peter and I are sometimes quite happy about going to bed, and sometimes dare not go upstairs even together. One night I was asleep, when I felt a cat jump on my bed, and thinking it was my own, took no notice. As I became more awake I remembered that my cat had run away months ago. I lit a lamp, there was no cat in the room – the door was shut, and the window only open a fraction. I called to Peter, and he came into the room. As I was talking to him a loud wailing "Meow" came from under the bed, making us both jump. We searched the room (which is tiny) but there was nothing there.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">That was the first time we had a fright outside the usual room. Then we both heard sounds on the landing from time to time, thumps, and a clicking noise like a parrot cracking sunflower seeds in its beak.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Sitting in the kitchen on winter evenings I frequently felt that I had just missed seeing a cat come from the bottom of the stairs and flash out of sight.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">One night sitting with Peter, I saw him jerk his head round, and asked him what was the matter. He said, "I just missed it, you know what I mean."</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On one occasion when I said that I wished my cat were back to sleep on my bed and keep me company, he said, "They are no good – they are hand in glove with the other side; in league with it."</p><p style="text-align: justify;">This remark coming from a boy of Peter's type is more impressive to one who knows him than to an outsider.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On the night of the Hurworth Hunt Ball early this year [1948], we were all dressed and ready to go. Peter was in the kitchen, with the door at the bottom of the stairs closed. I was in my bedroom with the door open, just ready to put the light out and go downstairs. Alfred was in his room with the door open, and the light on.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">There was a sliding sound on the banisters, and something that seemed like a heavy coat or a rug slid off and swished down the stairs, hitting the door at the bottom, bursting it open, and landing with a soft thump on the floor.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Peter called up to me, "What are you trying to throw at me?" Alfred and I went out onto the landing to see what had fallen. There was nothing to be seen either on the landing or at the bottom of the stairs. Peter said the door flew open, and he heard something land on the floor with a thump. The door has an old fashioned latch, and will not stay shut at all unless this is in place. It is impossible to burst open. (The door is tilted, like most of the house, and swings open into the kitchen unless the latch is firmly home)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">One night I heard slow heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, as if someone were carrying a heavy tray. I realised that Peter and Alfred had gone to bed when I did, and that both were in light slippers, and not in outdoor boots. I dare not go out, or call out. The footsteps went into the room with the open door called the attic.</p><div style="text-align: justify;">In the morning both Peter and Alfred said that they had never been out of bed, and in any case their boots were downstairs.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Winter 1948.</b> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A few weeks ago Peter and I were sitting in the kitchen listening to the racing results on the wireless at 6.25 (part of the job in a racing stable). I had scribbled them down on a piece of paper, and he was checking them off from the runners in the daily paper. We were both talking and laughing.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Suddenly he looked at me and turned crimson. Then he said, "Stand up". I stood up, and he stared behind me at the cushion at the end of the sofa. He went white, and said, "A cat clawed itself on to the sofa and went across your knees to the cushion behind you. It was a nearly white cat with tabby markings on its back and tail. I didn't see its head because it was moving away from me. I have just realised that we have no cat like that, and never have had."</p><p style="text-align: justify;">At this time we were both shut in for a winter evening by the fire, and there was no cat in the room. Neither of us was thinking of anything but racing, and I could tell by the colour of Peter's face that he was deeply distressed. I felt nothing, and saw nothing.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Finally, a week or so ago, I was reading in bed. Alfred was in his room and came into mine, saying "The damned thing is there." My lamp was on a very heavy Victorian chest of drawers. He had no sooner spoken than there was a terrific knock in the chest of drawers. I said, "That sounded like a sledge hammer", and he said, "If you or I had picked up a hammer and hit that thing as hard as we could, we could not have made a noise like that."</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The power of this noise was indescribable. Enough to crack a chest of drawers in two. Like a burst of thunder. The flame of the light on the dressing table never flickered.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I have tried to trace the record of this house. No one in the village has ever heard of it being haunted. There is a farm record book, which people have seen, dating the house back to the 16th century.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Summing up</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">When I first heard the flying and the clucking I was one night alone in the house, and Peter was not there on any night. The influence, whatever it is, comes and goes for no apparent reason, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. The Land Girl never heard it. Peter and I seem together to make it worse and together know when it has returned. Someimes we have been afraid to go upstairs even together.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Alfred is not afraid but hates to talk about it. If he can be persuaded to talk he admits its existence.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Peter tells me that when he slept in the room at the time the lamp glass was broken – he lay night after night rigid with fear and soaked in sweat, and convinced of a presence in the room. He kept the light on, as he found that light put a stop to the thing.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>1949</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">After the incidents in 1948 nothing happened, and it appeared that the trouble was over, and my account of it finished.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">November 1949 – I heard someone feeling their way along the landing wall until they came to my door, when the groping (over the wood of the the door) changed its sound. I thought someone was trying to go to bed without a light. Went out, and no one was there.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">A week after, the same sound halted at my door, and the feeble effort of someone trying to turn the brass door knob. Like a child whose hands are slipping and very weak. I was too frightened this time to go out. I saw the handle turn half way several times. Next morning took a look at door handle which is below door centre and possible for a child to reach.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Peter coming back from Bedale Hunt Ball 1949 saw lights moving in upper bedrooms. I was alone in the house and in bed. Had been terrified, and was awake when I heard the car come in. I remembered then that on walking up from the bus in the dark I had seen lights on the ground floor pass through the 3 front rooms as if someone were carrying a faint lamp. Was surprised to find front and back doors locked and the house empty. I did not think much about this at the time, as hauntings were, I thought, over.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: right;">K I E Hill</div><div style="text-align: right;">December 28 / [19]49</div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">There is no doubt that this winter the feeling is back again, but much fainter than before. I am frightened to sleep alone in the house again, and scared of the room - although it is nothing like as bad as before. The gropings at my door have shaken me, and I would not like this to happen if I were alone. The thing was always malicious and rather evil.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Postscript</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>1950.</b> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Had Brian staying. Peter and I in kitchen doing racing entries. Heard whispering voices arguing urgently and violently in next room. They went on and on and we couldn't concentrate or catch what they were saying. I shouted, "Will you two shut up" and dashed into the telephone room to slam the door. No one there and Brian had gone with his father to the pub.</p><p style="text-align: center;">.........................................................</p><div style="text-align: justify;">When Kay writes of the poltergeist in John Wesley's family, she is referring to the Epworth Rectory Poltergeist – cf <a href="https://www.academia.edu/19474827/Jeffrey_the_Jacobite_Poltergeist_The_Politics_of_the_Ghost_that_Haunted_the_Epworth_Rectory_in_1716_17" target="_blank">Jeffrey the Jacobite Poltergeist: the politics of the ghost that haunted the Epworth Rectory in 1716-17</a> by Kelly Diehl Yates from the Wesleyan Theological Journal (2015).</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's fascinating and very readable.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The sounds of flying and clucking: witnesses in the Epworth Rectory heard clucking and animal sounds among the thumps, raps, knocks etc, and one witness saw a rabbit-like creature. They grew used to their visitation and 7 year old Kezzy used to have a game of chasing the noise around the house. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The books which Kay quotes as references are:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Poltergeists over England</i> by Harry Price (1945). <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Price" target="_blank">Harry Price</a> was famous for exposing fraudulent mediums and is best remembered for his investigation into the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borley_Rectory" target="_blank">Borley Rectory</a> haunting</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Poltergeists: An Introduction and Examination followed by Chosen Instances</i> by Sacheverell Sitwell (1940). With decorations by Irene Hawkins and silhouettes by Cruikshank. Written to entertain, it was reviewed in the <i>Aberdeen Press and Journal</i> of 19 July 1940, which hailed Sitwell's "benevolent intention of distracting his readers' minds from present preoccupations" and said "as an 'escape' volume we have not seen its equal this war"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-46724539104158748422022-08-01T08:00:00.004+01:002022-08-01T08:00:00.187+01:00Frightful Accident at Sleights Station: 1 August 1901<div>On 2 August 1901, the <i>Whitby Gazette</i> carried a shocking headline:<br /><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Frightful Accident at Sleights Station</div><div style="text-align: center;">A Whitby Lady Cut To Pieces</div><div><br /></div>This is the story – two elderly ladies – and a busy railway station in the age of steam.<br /><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQCZDuu8JAWmv3w3AjKkLXBtta6euq-FfJqbf03g2xchDnSQ1sa3sxvV-oBZL_vkLMguGFAimyRlB7EGT5fkpBQ2yr4TO9ORu31hjWcb-ix0SLIGkwLOFH9SZpDkeA6neF6zJp2qDQYOvY34A9ZGFKwVfrlO1hL0UlVe6z713BoGfArQMB-yAVFU_/s1408/Sleights%20station%20by%20Maniac%20Pony.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQCZDuu8JAWmv3w3AjKkLXBtta6euq-FfJqbf03g2xchDnSQ1sa3sxvV-oBZL_vkLMguGFAimyRlB7EGT5fkpBQ2yr4TO9ORu31hjWcb-ix0SLIGkwLOFH9SZpDkeA6neF6zJp2qDQYOvY34A9ZGFKwVfrlO1hL0UlVe6z713BoGfArQMB-yAVFU_/w400-h300/Sleights%20station%20by%20Maniac%20Pony.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sleights station by Maniac Pony at English Wikipedia, <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9332257" target="_blank">CC BY 2.5</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the evening of Thursday 1 August 1901, two old ladies, the Misses Emma and Harriet Williamson, had walked down to the station after spending a couple of hours calling on friends in Sleights. Emma was the elder, at 84 years of age; Harriet was 81. They wanted to catch the 7:36 home to Whitby. It would come from the Grosmont direction and there was indeed a train coming that way – they thought it was theirs, and that they were just in time. But first they must cross the line to the down platform. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There was a level crossing where the road to Whitby crossed the railway track and the station buildings and its platforms lay between the old ladies and the oncoming train – they thought they would have time to get across as the train drew to a halt at the station, so they went through the little gate at the level crossing. </div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The signalman shouted, "Keep back!" </div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">George Wilkinson, a 53 year old builder and joiner from Sleights, who had gone to the down platform for some parcels and had been held up at the gates as he set off back home, saw the old ladies – he knew them quite well – and he shouted. </div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">James Moor, aged 51, gamekeeper for Mr Robert Yeoman at Grove Hall, Woodlands at Aislaby was waiting at the station too. He saw the ladies crossing – he thought if it was stopping at the station they might just catch the train – he shouted to them as hard as he could, telling them to get along.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The ladies didn't seem to hear. </div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It wasn't their train. It was an excursion train from York, which had taken people on a day's outing to Whitby, and it was on its way back to Whitby to pick up the tired and happy holidaymakers for their journey home. The crew had spent the last four hours at Grosmont – plenty of time for a cup of tea – because there wasn't enough room for the empty train to wait in the sidings at Whitby. It wasn't due to stop at Sleights at all.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The excursion train – six carriages and two vans – had rounded the sharp curve about 170 yards before Sleights station. It had come into view of the station. Now it was whistling continuously. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">John William Pearson, aged 43, was the driver. He had already shut off steam and slowed up on the approach to Sleights because the distance signal had been against him, but it had been lowered as they passed through and he had picked up steam again. He had obeyed the directive to all drivers to whistle as they came within 200 yards of Sleights station. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now he saw a lady about to cross the line. She hadn't yet reached the metals – the rails. Seeing she was in danger, he shut off steam, he applied the brakes, he was pulling on the whistle all the time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">And then he saw that there was a second lady about to cross behind the first. He had a good view – he was coming in tender first, which he felt gave him a far better view than if the engine had been first, under the circumstances – and he thought he was doing about 25-30 mph at the time. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">The guard Harold Clough Emmerson, aged 42, said at the inquest that he thought they were going rather slower, at 20-25 mph. He couldn't see the ladies himself because the train blocked his view – all he could see was "an old gentleman on a trap waving for them to stop".</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">As the engine arrived at the level crossing, John Pearson lost sight of both ladies. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">George Wilkinson, waiting at the gates, saw the younger of the two make a little rush forward and just manage to clear the rails – he thought for a moment that the elder lady was going to get across – but the train struck her and whirled her round so that she went under it. He didn't think she ever saw the train or heard it. All the train went over her, and the lady was literally cut to pieces. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Pearson feared both ladies had been killed when "he felt something like a thud" on impact. He brought the train to a standstill just after passing the crossing, "the last vehicle," he said at the inquest, "being near the bridge." He had done everything he could. The train had stopped in about 80 yards, little more than its own length. </div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He got down at once, leaving the fireman on the engine, and then he saw Miss Emma Williamson. The engine and all the carriages must have passed over her. "She was terribly cut, and mangled most fearfully – the scene was dreadful." He didn't know how the first lady had escaped. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Miss Harriet thought that her sister was crossed the tracks just behind her. She didn't see what happened and she must have stood there wondering at the scene, with the men gathering about the train in alarm.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Pearson spoke for a while with Watson Bulmer, the 38 year old station master. And then he got back in the cabin to attend to his duty – he had to take the train to Whitby for the return journey to York.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">And it was only when the train had left the station that Miss Harriet saw that her sister had been killed. She was in a most dreadful state of shock – someone must have taken her home to No 8 Park Terrace in Whitby.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Watson Bulmer organised the removal of poor Miss Emma's remains to the station buildings to await the coroner's instructions. In the early hours of the morning they were taken "in a shell" to her home in Park Terrace.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Everyone who had seen the accident must have been very much shocked and shaken. The driver and guard went home to York – John Pearson to 11 Drake Street, off Nunnery Lane, to his wife Rose, and Harold Emmerson to his wife Zillah and their four children – the youngest was only a baby – at 13 St Ann Street in Walmgate. George Wilkinson went up to Sleights to his wife Jane and the family – six children, with Stanley the youngest at 10 years old. James Moor would go home to Aislaby, to his wife Hannah and their children. The men would all be wanted the following week to give evidence at the Coroner's Inquest.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next afternoon, the coroner George Buchannan, a Whitby solicitor, opened the inquest at the County Hotel just to hear Miss Harriet bravely give her very brief evidence. The coroner was a familiar figure to her – he was her cousin <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-family-of-nathaniel-langborne-1739.html" target="_blank">Ann Langborne's</a> son. She told him that she did not blame the driver of the train or any one else in the least – the blame, she said, was their own.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The accident shocked and horrified the area. The Misses Williamson had many friends and relations and they were well known for their charitable work. So when, on the afternoon of Saturday 3 August, Miss Emma was buried in Sleights Churchyard, it was amid great sympathy and sorrow. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfI_tajUQYpw6CaZYvRcFV3K0LJ3_iXC09x13_1Ear2wnxeYB0Ghkko1_wipKbikRCbIu_DAgU8-cXmywsz1AgSoobekcSpj0LL26T1W2s_HGEyp1juFiV_cGHXlXMA8iIwP7fOTGmh9w6bm8qxJ8yQMC0DC9_0prvfiIQcixUc_L0rR_VWzqJYdi/s3888/St%20Johns%20Church%20Sleights(Nigel%20Coates).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3888" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfI_tajUQYpw6CaZYvRcFV3K0LJ3_iXC09x13_1Ear2wnxeYB0Ghkko1_wipKbikRCbIu_DAgU8-cXmywsz1AgSoobekcSpj0LL26T1W2s_HGEyp1juFiV_cGHXlXMA8iIwP7fOTGmh9w6bm8qxJ8yQMC0DC9_0prvfiIQcixUc_L0rR_VWzqJYdi/s320/St%20Johns%20Church%20Sleights(Nigel%20Coates).jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St John the Evangelist, Sleights by Nigelcoates at English Wikipedia <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17971371" target="_blank">CC BY-SA 3.0</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It must have been a very well-attended and solemn funeral. Three clergymen took the service and signed the burial register – the Revd Hugh P D Walker, vicar of Sleights, the Revd George Austen, the Rector of Whitby, and his curate the Revd Michael A Horsfall. The church bells rang a muffled peal.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On Wednesday 9 August, George Buchannan resumed the inquest. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">John Pearson – he always gave his name in official documents such as census forms as John W. Pearson, but the Whitby Gazette's reporter caught his name as William Pearson – explained the actions he had taken. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">"So far as you were concerned," asked the Coroner, "you did everything in your power?" – "Yes, everything, Sir."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Harold Emmerson and James Moor testified. George Wilkinson explained to the coroner and jury that the last accident at that level crossing had happened 30 or 40 years ago. He thought the danger at Sleights crossing was chiefly because so many trains were timed to meet there together, and because of obstructed sight lines. The railway line in the Grosmont direction was on a curve and the view towards Whitby was blocked by a house, which belonged to the railway company and occupied by a platelayer. People at the station had a very limited view in either direction. He thought it would be quite practicable to make a bridge.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">The District Superintendent of the Traffic Department, Mr John Bradford Harper, said a footbridge would make crossing safer, if only the public would use one. They found that it was hard to stop people from crossing the rails and where, as at Sleights, there had to be a "sleeper crossing" for luggage, then the public would use the luggage crossing rather than a bridge. As there was a rule prohibiting putting up a fence within 4 feet of a running line, it was virtually impossible to stop them doing this.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Jury returned a verdict of accidental death by a passing train. And they requested the Coroner to communicate to the North-Eastern Railway Company their opinion that a footbridge should be provided and that the cottage which obstructed the view towards Whitby be removed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Miss Harriet decided on a fitting and beautiful memorial to her sister, and to her mother and brother. She engaged the celebrated designer <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Eamer_Kempe" target="_blank">Charles Eamer Kempe</a> (1837-1907) to create a stained glass window for the church of St John the Evangelist at Sleights. On 13 March 1903, the Whitby Gazette reported this generous gift had been installed. The window showed John the Baptist indicating Christ as the Lamb of God and the inscription was </div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">In the reverence of God, and in loving memory of Elizabeth, William and Emma Williamson, this window is dedicated, AD MDCCCCIII<br /></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Miss Harriet Williamson died three months later aged 83 on 13 June. She was buried at Sleights with her mother, brother and sister on 17 June 1903.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-15274439662934640972022-06-25T08:00:00.002+01:002022-06-26T09:03:25.415+01:00Heart Echoes in late Victorian Stockton-on-Tees<p>A few keepsakes from late Victorian Stockton-on-Tees. <span style="text-align: justify;">They belonged to Miss Eleanor Bateson of 37 Skinner Street. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nQqkumbLaBuVEydO63NEjP49hC8aSzdeeQy9OjL-jzM6-hOEHhYvAc9YrqVVsTPx31KRFHboX6nbXEZMdhR9329-1iJ28ZXncpvkR2DVh_TzfRGjeZRWL3inu2nrK-gPj4aBH4ugywON9z6qqrIVIZo8HmgOt0t5SCcRPtyZAlS0WsWCugRaFqWK/s775/Skinner%20Street,%20Stockton.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="723" data-original-width="775" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nQqkumbLaBuVEydO63NEjP49hC8aSzdeeQy9OjL-jzM6-hOEHhYvAc9YrqVVsTPx31KRFHboX6nbXEZMdhR9329-1iJ28ZXncpvkR2DVh_TzfRGjeZRWL3inu2nrK-gPj4aBH4ugywON9z6qqrIVIZo8HmgOt0t5SCcRPtyZAlS0WsWCugRaFqWK/s320/Skinner%20Street,%20Stockton.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Skinner Street, Stockton-on-Tees<br />(running vertically down centre of picture)<br />O.S. 1913 <a href="https://maps.nls.uk/" target="_blank">National Library of Scotland</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">Eleanor was born on 21 November 1866 to John and Mary Bateson, the fourth child of a family of six. </span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Her father was a cordwainer when she was born – not a cobbler who repaired shoes, but a man who made shoes from new leather – but when she was a little girl he became firstly a foreman in a local ironworks and then a school warden for Stockton, responsible for enforcing school attendance by calling on parents and visiting schools. It was quite an onerous position.</p><div><div style="text-align: justify;">These keepsakes and chance survivals of a long life date from Eleanor's twenties and early thirties.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To begin with the Christmas season – </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJklZ1KnIsdfzV0BM1aZfwQEk3wfCusfHs7aB4IrQcChqLvb8tG85qBq6TwGUDRgo0c1DR_UyDCOst3TF08YyjZL7HS3uI7kzvJyO0FlWTft91KYMjbD88prvZfVRf8uBQxkxuFA5kfsm_tDlCz9un8vtT9pZLMvqOG68XjbnM0UNy52O9OfB8XdeU/s1100/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%201a.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="1100" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJklZ1KnIsdfzV0BM1aZfwQEk3wfCusfHs7aB4IrQcChqLvb8tG85qBq6TwGUDRgo0c1DR_UyDCOst3TF08YyjZL7HS3uI7kzvJyO0FlWTft91KYMjbD88prvZfVRf8uBQxkxuFA5kfsm_tDlCz9un8vtT9pZLMvqOG68XjbnM0UNy52O9OfB8XdeU/s320/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%201a.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Eleanor kept two particularly attractive Christmas cards. One of them shows a spray of ivy and the message "A Happy Christmas". Folded, it measures 3 inches by 2 inches, and it opens out to reveal a quotation from Shakespeare's Sonnet 30 and a verse by Thackeray. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc49b8RV1j3VDvej9UeLOmKoSz_fatv8UzcgV93GjndHZVp4tVPQKHTUB4iVzMkG7r3k75U6Ml6wApUpoBAYWqX94KMK8SLOrvtH5GtjjW-GPobs_w1BMgmSljyIKHogdV1SyEMLWK0eHsrs-2caLlwAqVZBc46aoa4b4XXaujAiP5Bevv8T9PQKqy/s1864/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%201b.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1864" data-original-width="1091" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc49b8RV1j3VDvej9UeLOmKoSz_fatv8UzcgV93GjndHZVp4tVPQKHTUB4iVzMkG7r3k75U6Ml6wApUpoBAYWqX94KMK8SLOrvtH5GtjjW-GPobs_w1BMgmSljyIKHogdV1SyEMLWK0eHsrs-2caLlwAqVZBc46aoa4b4XXaujAiP5Bevv8T9PQKqy/s320/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%201b.JPEG" width="187" /></a><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>We might not think the verses very Christmassy but they send wishes for "Good Health and Good Fortune" to an absent friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>The second card is rather larger, measuring when folded 5 inches by 3 inches. "With Louie's love to Nellie" is written on the reverse. The picture shows strawberries and strawberry leaves together with a little scene of a house by the sea. "Good Wishes" is the message on the front.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-YupjHANh5CtqWyIZQMVuqYksRhMaJQxDKqpDlYVy4D_ZSYOJwhSlDuwgQ6G75yN_fNzc2E1aAjmOtunopFYZdvCi_wbFSB6FtmiilnHPOLUTWzKsIUHm5pT-fPfUOri9Dbnr-0QGdg41uJuoLdAB3WNKzqjEA89lN7Ey0IjKBhbfMYwnzklIgXw/s1560/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%202a.JPEG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1163" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-YupjHANh5CtqWyIZQMVuqYksRhMaJQxDKqpDlYVy4D_ZSYOJwhSlDuwgQ6G75yN_fNzc2E1aAjmOtunopFYZdvCi_wbFSB6FtmiilnHPOLUTWzKsIUHm5pT-fPfUOri9Dbnr-0QGdg41uJuoLdAB3WNKzqjEA89lN7Ey0IjKBhbfMYwnzklIgXw/s320/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%202a.JPEG" width="239" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Inside is a verse by <a href="https://blogs.ucl.ac.uk/library-rnid/2017/10/06/helen-marion-burnside-r-a-carried-the-radiance-of-her-very-soul-in-her-face/" target="_blank">Helen Marion Burnside</a> (1841-1923), an artist and writer of lyrics and verses. The verse inside this card begins </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Christmas to you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Best of earthly blessings</div><div style="text-align: center;">Fall on you to-day</div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypBFJK0KXuzB-izSvEptY1ytR6Lm6rhCYPP7nKVXL56FfpsUZXv81D1xX20eRGgSyAm1tis5xn_jXOdTTigg-yY1hjyQIZcMMy6A05agyArUxTBte8-j9d1kI16qWe8MGqqWrAe6f9lELCCRVXtLO3-n2Ai62_VptACTEUoi6Jd2IOk3FlrhaI8ct/s1476/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%202b.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1247" data-original-width="1476" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypBFJK0KXuzB-izSvEptY1ytR6Lm6rhCYPP7nKVXL56FfpsUZXv81D1xX20eRGgSyAm1tis5xn_jXOdTTigg-yY1hjyQIZcMMy6A05agyArUxTBte8-j9d1kI16qWe8MGqqWrAe6f9lELCCRVXtLO3-n2Ai62_VptACTEUoi6Jd2IOk3FlrhaI8ct/s320/Eleanor%20Bateson%20Christmas%20card%202b.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A collection of small, brightly-coloured paper scraps shows that Eleanor kept a <a href="http://www.victoriana.com/scrapbooking/scrapbooking.html" target="_blank">scrapbook</a>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div><br /></div><div>These are all that remain of the sheets of embossed relief images and die-cuts that she bought to fill her pages – but we don't have her scrapbook, so we can't see how she arranged them and what sort of artistic effects she achieved.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyOyBt49MD5YuboYCApm8vHz-e17m_YWh3hMG5roHuHgEEpum_PNeG5Gxswq34Hk3oURztRhZSyR78CxWJ-qGB-xC8yPszdstAktBF9VHmV08NepXae7N4AObDQro3YZL2bpQbqJv419I1GecZNcaQwja0gB3w_HYRzm0mytRtS3-p0bYfJXHjjUp/s1428/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20Victorian%20scraps.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1428" data-original-width="1377" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyOyBt49MD5YuboYCApm8vHz-e17m_YWh3hMG5roHuHgEEpum_PNeG5Gxswq34Hk3oURztRhZSyR78CxWJ-qGB-xC8yPszdstAktBF9VHmV08NepXae7N4AObDQro3YZL2bpQbqJv419I1GecZNcaQwja0gB3w_HYRzm0mytRtS3-p0bYfJXHjjUp/s320/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20Victorian%20scraps.JPEG" width="309" /></a></div><br /><div><div>The next memento shows that Eleanor was a singer. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Programme for the Long Newton Cricket Club Annual Concert is simply dated Tuesday May 20th. The year isn't given, but 20 May fell on a Tuesday in 1890 and in 1902. I rather think the concert might have taken place in 1890. Quite a few of the pieces date from the 1880s and listening to fairly new songs would have been part of the attraction. </div><div><br /></div><div>We don't know if Eleanor was in an ensemble that sang for the Long Newton Cricket Club's fundraiser or if she was involved in the Club itself. And was the Mr Bateson on the programme her father or her brother? We don't know. Perhaps it was both of them, one of them giving a rendition of the music hall comic monologue <a href="https://monologues.co.uk/musichall/Songs-P/Penny-Bus-The.htm" target="_blank">'The Penny Bus'</a> and the other singing the romantic ballad <a href="https://digitalcommons.conncoll.edu/sheetmusic/732/" target="_blank">'In Old Madrid'</a> (which you can listen to in a 1920 recording <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fV4PAecdy0g" target="_blank">here</a>).</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZpwkZFpVyY1x-pTPy34xVAwt4Qm1YHOkXFTRmFr7JhkL-_yxW6G5FQk9pcKLY_O7QamMjOshbQ_plTmE07BlLAaLH-mwUYLKjwh1SFUet389lCan-e5Nc11gRbIgVbMfAOY5higMGY6MEK9NY0Y7WVq03ZzuaJEmiu_VAZhJsiApb-YxF5GyJedP/s1819/Long%20Newton%20Cricket%20Club%20concert%20programme.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1434" data-original-width="1819" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZpwkZFpVyY1x-pTPy34xVAwt4Qm1YHOkXFTRmFr7JhkL-_yxW6G5FQk9pcKLY_O7QamMjOshbQ_plTmE07BlLAaLH-mwUYLKjwh1SFUet389lCan-e5Nc11gRbIgVbMfAOY5higMGY6MEK9NY0Y7WVq03ZzuaJEmiu_VAZhJsiApb-YxF5GyJedP/w400-h315/Long%20Newton%20Cricket%20Club%20concert%20programme.JPEG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>Eleanor appears four times in the programme. She opened the concert in a quartet singing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoPZOVNQ2Qg" target="_blank">'O Who will o'er the Downs so free?'</a> and followed it up with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viW5rT2duoc" target="_blank">'Love's Old Sweet Song'</a>, which we might remember better as 'Just a Song at Twilight'. She opened the second half with 'Needles and Pins', which I suspect must have been a comic song, and then she sang in a duet. And both halves of the programme ended with a glee sung by all the company. </div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Besides music, Eleanor also loved poetry. In the late 1880s she bought a dark red, hardback exercise book measuring 7 inches by 9 inches – it was her Poetry Book.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXflOD4yGNo6WrMpCG5Ir32sJPQex2dDKMJmczWJMxNVutQQxtGe4IKVF6k_vvCqipsgtgoeELonv2ISU_5wPf4JHXKqyh9pmc6hQtxnqwy2aqrc9tMODGo5FlkZLYqu7H9Jp1RRJmcvn8mXzCAivEbFAevBvTkhPd1TZ2I3eLrbFN7DDDXwFgLyDz/s1479/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20poetry%20book.JPEG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="941" data-original-width="1479" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXflOD4yGNo6WrMpCG5Ir32sJPQex2dDKMJmczWJMxNVutQQxtGe4IKVF6k_vvCqipsgtgoeELonv2ISU_5wPf4JHXKqyh9pmc6hQtxnqwy2aqrc9tMODGo5FlkZLYqu7H9Jp1RRJmcvn8mXzCAivEbFAevBvTkhPd1TZ2I3eLrbFN7DDDXwFgLyDz/w200-h127/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20poetry%20book.JPEG" width="200" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The first poem she transcribed into her book was "Newly Wedded" by Lizzie Berry. This probably came from a recently published book called <i>Heart Echoes: Original Miscellaneous & Devotional Poems</i>, which came out in 1886 and is available in a reprint today. Lizzie Berry came, her publishers explained in their foreword, of a humble background and had suffered "great trials and difficulties". Her verses were often printed in the newspapers and she came to have a devoted following. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURS21wXGMFGzgD578pQ4U3WVMI8KtTIniR9njC-sS9YBWbDzGOndmR12myJBjXYJeIH4_Jw5GiYzK1YEhTqKSt6wZo6GJ7rxXo4y5O_OSwXQLym1Ph_HcztX8acgrpAkd2QDffPIfB2RTzt3o5CY3x66Gjk12yKfMiLo2srKtrHEUDmpIBJezFdQk/s1959/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20poetry%20book%20p1.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1959" data-original-width="1528" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURS21wXGMFGzgD578pQ4U3WVMI8KtTIniR9njC-sS9YBWbDzGOndmR12myJBjXYJeIH4_Jw5GiYzK1YEhTqKSt6wZo6GJ7rxXo4y5O_OSwXQLym1Ph_HcztX8acgrpAkd2QDffPIfB2RTzt3o5CY3x66Gjk12yKfMiLo2srKtrHEUDmpIBJezFdQk/s320/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20poetry%20book%20p1.JPEG" width="250" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">But Eleanor also liked older verse and classics such as Shelley, Cowper, Thomas Moore and Longfellow. And she read novels – she had been reading <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/4394/4394-h/4394-h.htm" target="_blank"><i>A Romance of Two Worlds</i></a> by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marie_Corelli" target="_blank">Marie Corelli</a>. Newly published in 1886, it was Marie Corelli's first book and an immediate popular success – and the beginning of a highly colourful career. Eleanor was clearly taken by it and she transcribed verses from the novel into her poetry book. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>She didn't confine herself to poetry. When she saw something that amused her, she copied it out. Some of us will remember Avoirdupois Weight – which usually went like this</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">16 oz (ounces) = 1 lb (pound)</div><div style="text-align: center;">14 lb = 1 stone</div><div style="text-align: center;">28 lb = 1 qtr (quarter)</div><div style="text-align: center;">4 qtrs = 1 cwt (hundredweight)</div><div><br /></div><div>In 1895, when Eleanor was 29 years old, she was taken with a gently humorous, sentimental version:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Avoirdupois Weight</div><div style="text-align: center;">(New Code) 1895</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">16 Looks make 1 Smile</div><div style="text-align: center;">16 Smiles make 1 Nod</div><div style="text-align: center;">28 Nods make 1 Moonlight meeting</div><div style="text-align: center;">4 Moonlight meetings make 1 Kiss</div><div style="text-align: center;">20 Kisses make 1 Wedding</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the quotations on the same page reads, "A true man is generous and unselfish and has a conscience."</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpp-OmuCLUBnBqmipqIr0oAWdI2f0wMl92YBrAkrrJGEr7Fe_aq6lTYT3BovqSFMMhrAw8R4YTsnnX8Mruy6GRjuzA8FNqBFkINeLbjvRq9V4EPY0NBQ_StwNhKuLBg0nqqxmWalvxe4RabABe-EAhHPAckxIW_pTxwSiCFSFca7ABwnrqr0LH6WR/s2048/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20poetry%20book%20p16.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpp-OmuCLUBnBqmipqIr0oAWdI2f0wMl92YBrAkrrJGEr7Fe_aq6lTYT3BovqSFMMhrAw8R4YTsnnX8Mruy6GRjuzA8FNqBFkINeLbjvRq9V4EPY0NBQ_StwNhKuLBg0nqqxmWalvxe4RabABe-EAhHPAckxIW_pTxwSiCFSFca7ABwnrqr0LH6WR/s320/Eleanor%20Bateson's%20poetry%20book%20p16.JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div>The notebook is far from full – Eleanor only filled a dozen or so pages. The last poem of all was part of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's 'A Psalm of Life' (1838), which begins</div><div><div></div><blockquote><div></div><blockquote><div></div><blockquote><div>Tell me not, in mournful numbers </div><div>Life is but an empty dream!</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>Eleanor transcribed verses 6 and 9:</div><div><div></div><blockquote><div></div><blockquote><div></div><blockquote><div>Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!</div><div>Let the dead Past bury its dead!</div><div>Act,— act in the living Present!</div><div>Heart within, and God o’erhead!</div><div><br /></div><div>Let us, then, be up and doing,</div><div>With a heart for any fate;</div><div>Still achieving, still pursuing,</div><div>Learn to labor and to wait.</div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></div><div>In 1901 Eleanor was living at 37 Skinner Street with her parents, her brother Malcolm and a young lodger, who was a grocer. She was working as a clerk in a tea warehouse. </div><div><br /></div></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCKrI8ooC06Lsocz3DvyF9Jy1zjiSu_AnUXjtU13Xg0RmYPZnYWVJgn0XLqSaqTcDbUmYM4p4Mn8EJWWTQXDfoK87HgPhZWkBHGmq_XX54wykGgHZbjrQ0egTeWyp4uZn_UuEzucSXCc957JCO_6lgag23YzUOIEIH4D1gqyZs-wmeYZqjQELCD5O/s538/The%20Square,%20Stockton.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="492" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCKrI8ooC06Lsocz3DvyF9Jy1zjiSu_AnUXjtU13Xg0RmYPZnYWVJgn0XLqSaqTcDbUmYM4p4Mn8EJWWTQXDfoK87HgPhZWkBHGmq_XX54wykGgHZbjrQ0egTeWyp4uZn_UuEzucSXCc957JCO_6lgag23YzUOIEIH4D1gqyZs-wmeYZqjQELCD5O/s320/The%20Square,%20Stockton.JPG" width="293" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Square, Stockton-on-Tees<br />O.S. 1913 <a href="https://maps.nls.uk/" target="_blank">National Library of Scotland</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">I expect the tea warehouse stood at 29 The Square (where the library stands today) and belonged to William Thomas Trattles. In the late summer of 1906, as she approached her 40th birthday, Eleanor married him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A year after the marriage, Eleanor gave birth to her only child, Mary, born on 31 October 1907. It was Mary who kept her mother's poetry book and the other little keepsakes, a small collection surviving by chance from a family's accumulated mementos.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mary was only 14 when her father died, so she must only have had a child's remembrance of him. He must have been a man of determination, energy and business acumen; he was certainly someone who knew personal tragedy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">William Thomas Trattles was 11 years older than Eleanor, a widower with 5 children – the youngest was 11 and the oldest was 21.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He was born in 1855 in Staithes, the son of a master mariner. For many years – for all of Mary's lifetime – a picture of the sailing ship <i>Zephyr</i> had pride of place above the fireplace. The <i>Zephyr</i> was built in 1845, master John Trattles, owner Thomas Trattles, her destined voyage was Hamburg and she was rigged as a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snow_(ship)" target="_blank">snow</a>. (And you can examine her survey on the Lloyd's Register Foundation Archive <a href="https://hec.lrfoundation.org.uk/archive-library/documents/lrf-pun-stk901-0190-r-zephyr-1845" target="_blank">here</a>). When John Trattles retired from the sea, he was for some time a grocer in Staithes. Perhaps this was perhaps the impetus for his sons Matthew and William to go into the tea trade. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>In 1880 they were in business together as Trattles Brothers, tea and coffee merchants of 29 The Square. But the partnership only lasted 3 years and they split up in 1883. They must have agreed that William could keep on the warehouse at 29 The Square because he carried on there as a tea wholesaler.</div><div><br /></div><div>William built up the business, advertising heavily to tea dealers in the <i>Daily Gazette for Middlesbrough</i> – one of his selling points was that he was the "Sole packer of the celebrated Sultan Packet Tea". He prospered, diversifying into Fancy Goods, Glass and China. His December advertisement for 1891 proclaimed </div><div><blockquote>Christmas and New Year Presents – the largest and best assortment in the district at W T Trattles, 29 The Square, Stockton. Dinner Sets, Chamber Sets, Toilet Sets, Tea Sets of endless variety to choose from, and all at wholesale prices</blockquote></div><div>He tried branch shops for a while – the shop in Middlesbrough was on the "main thoroughfare" but it didn't work out and he put it up for sale in 1892 ("would suit a lady"). The shop in Darlington lasted longer. He advertised it for sale in 1903 </div><div><blockquote>To be disposed of, an old-established Present, Tea and Fancy Goods Business, in Darlington; satisfactory reasons for disposal; managed by a female. </blockquote></div><div>Meanwhile, he and his wife Agnes Jemima Wilson and their growing family progressed from 24 Balaclava Street, in the network of terraced streets near the railway station, to 13 Palmerston Street – where they had a live-in servant – to Park House on Richmond Road, next to Ropner Park. It was a villa with "12 large, spacious rooms, with all conveniences, large garden and grass lawn; adjoining Park; very best position".</div><div><br /></div><div>And it was there, on 29 May 1895, only three weeks after giving birth to her sixth child, that Agnes died at the age of 40. William was left a widower with five children – their first baby, Agnes, had died within weeks of her birth. Ida was the eldest at 13, and after Ida came Hugh Harold, William Horace (always called Horace), Agnes and the new baby Thomas. </div><div><br /></div><div>William picked up his life and carried on. He had his business, he was a town councillor, and he employed a housekeeper. The children were growing up and Hugh Harold started work as a Chartered Accountant's clerk. Then disaster struck.</div><div><br /></div><div>On 8 April 1902 a fire at the shop and warehouse in the The Square gutted the building and destroyed a great deal of the stock. A few months later, on 26 July, his beloved daughter Ida died at Park House. I'm not sure if his heart was in the business after this, or perhaps he no longer had the drive to rebuild the business. At any rate, by the time of the next census in 1911 he was no longer an employer, but was working as a Commercial Traveller for China goods. </div><div><br /></div><div>When the First World War broke out, little Mary was nearly 7 years old. Her eldest brother Hugh Harold was 29, living in Beckenham and working as a bank clerk. He joined the 24th Battalion Royal Fusiliers as a private. Horace had been living at home in 1911 and working as a drapers' assistant. When war broke out he joined the 14th Battalion London Regiment as a Private. Thomas was a merchant seaman. He joined the Yorkshire Regiment in December 1915 when he was 20. Their sister Agnes was 23 years old. I think it was probably during the War that she trained as a nurse, the career she followed for the rest of her life.</div><div><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkp8hykTMUxmVCS7Eu-91Gyg5j5jQw4GYkcqyjmskDAv_R9TSWffD1feqpL64VhZBuBMVJ341tr6cZYNwhrwMbFINrePKSqt3p8F-6dLD5NPT-6lAT0JaGzAl-XV34H8MdeMAmPKG3qSAFjOuGk79wweT7-CU349aWh7qp8vOSee6XXHrRFzqkgKPC/s1100/William%20Horace%20Trattles%20d1917.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="799" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkp8hykTMUxmVCS7Eu-91Gyg5j5jQw4GYkcqyjmskDAv_R9TSWffD1feqpL64VhZBuBMVJ341tr6cZYNwhrwMbFINrePKSqt3p8F-6dLD5NPT-6lAT0JaGzAl-XV34H8MdeMAmPKG3qSAFjOuGk79wweT7-CU349aWh7qp8vOSee6XXHrRFzqkgKPC/s320/William%20Horace%20Trattles%20d1917.jpeg" width="232" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">William Horace Trattles<br />(1890-1917)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div>Mary adored her brother Horace, he was her favourite brother. In June 1915 he was commissioned 2nd Lieutenant in the 13th Battalion Hampshire Regiment. In the spring of 1916 he was attached to the 9th Battalion Worcestershire Regiment and sent out to Mesopotomia. He was killed in action on 25 January 1917 at the age of 26. He is buried in the <a href="https://www.cwgc.org/find-records/find-war-dead/casualty-details/630521/william%20horace%20trattles/" target="_blank">Amara War Cemetery</a> in south-east Iraq.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mary had prayed for him fervently every night; she never believed in God again.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the time of Horace's death, Hugh had been wounded twice and was back in the trenches, and Thomas had been in hospital for 6 months. </div><div><br /></div><div>He had been sent out to France towards the end of April 1916 but was wounded within weeks. The damage – I think he was left with epilepsy – that was caused by the gunshot wounds to his head on 12 July 1916 incapacitated him from work for life.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Hugh Harold Trattles died in 1920 at the Phillips Memorial Hospital in Bromley, Kent, aged 35. His father William Thomas died the following year at the age of 66.</div><div><br /></div><div>So only Mary, her mother and her brother Thomas were left in Stockton. They lived at Rosebank, a house with 5 bedrooms and 3 reception rooms on Cranbourne Terrace, where the family had moved in 1915. </div><div><br /></div><div>Rosebank stood on a large plot and its garden stretched back to the railway line – which meant it was naturally called into use when the centenary of the Stockton to Darlington Railway was celebrated on of 2 July 1925. </div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVd2vkDoAMY9CBwvmtOzfFa6RyV6BDfnJBrEUeEKe8stJYMjCYFaz3Rfnzo61KjASNeza7FtteN2VbHriPLHCcmI3A9L2uhetW5rsxlWJCpBIXfUa0wL5Gh_WEYv_m_gDIXRCAJ9NrpnVcD3mcKCCMlXjlv1XJ4JytrY0JntGIbRKy498G1jLM3aav/s897/Cranbourne%20Terrace,%20Stockton.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="897" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVd2vkDoAMY9CBwvmtOzfFa6RyV6BDfnJBrEUeEKe8stJYMjCYFaz3Rfnzo61KjASNeza7FtteN2VbHriPLHCcmI3A9L2uhetW5rsxlWJCpBIXfUa0wL5Gh_WEYv_m_gDIXRCAJ9NrpnVcD3mcKCCMlXjlv1XJ4JytrY0JntGIbRKy498G1jLM3aav/w400-h173/Cranbourne%20Terrace,%20Stockton.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Cranbourne Terrace, Stockton-on-Tees<br />O.S. 1913 <a href="https://maps.nls.uk/" target="_blank">National Library of Scotland</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div>A grandstand was built at the bottom of the garden for dignitaries and notables to watch the grand <a href="https://railwaywondersoftheworld.com/railway_centenary.html" target="_blank">Railway Centenary Procession</a> of locomotives going by. </div><div><br /></div><div>Locomotives of all types and ages, passengers and crew in period dress, the Darlington Band playing from one of the rear wagons, a tableaux train carrying a pageant illustrating the evolution of the wheel in transport, luxury trains – the Flying Scotsman carrying excited children – and in pride of place a replica of Locomotion No 1, led by a horseman flourishing a red flag to warn of its approach. It was an enormous success and you can see newsreel footage of it on youtube today <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kDXaxyt7ZE" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RldoQ6mTOzY" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaJLETbgN1Y" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLZCdWMWVJFBiMOHmxERFn0vqUlDRZ5b5J1dU1RpUWjvFZOLNPooRfz5JMkUr23k_5oC09VyyZaV3CLMePaRbJvjViDRZcQV0ylXsDqbDh9g9LJiBGZzi42Aes6qbFcTrohoSVLKldZ6WkTJ6TGCWN8x6yq1lQyqt4oIPLjHzt5bmXhkH04-Xbj0e/s1463/Mary%20Trattles.JPEG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1463" data-original-width="372" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLZCdWMWVJFBiMOHmxERFn0vqUlDRZ5b5J1dU1RpUWjvFZOLNPooRfz5JMkUr23k_5oC09VyyZaV3CLMePaRbJvjViDRZcQV0ylXsDqbDh9g9LJiBGZzi42Aes6qbFcTrohoSVLKldZ6WkTJ6TGCWN8x6yq1lQyqt4oIPLjHzt5bmXhkH04-Xbj0e/s320/Mary%20Trattles.JPEG" width="81" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mary Trattles</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Eleanor, Mary and Thomas lived at Rosebank for about 20 years. Mary, it is said, was engaged to be married but she had her mother and brother to care for, and the engagement was ended. </div><div><br /></div><div>By the time the Second World War broke out they had moved to Stirling House, 98 Darlington Road, Hartburn. Eleanor died there in 1952. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mary lived on there until her death in 1998, long outliving her brother Thomas and sister Agnes. She was the last of the family.</div><div><br /></div><div>Her most vivid memory to the end was her beloved brother Horace carrying her piggy-back as he raced round the garden, her mother calling anxiously all the while, "Be careful! Be careful! You'll drop her!"</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-39389579234539663402022-05-28T08:00:00.001+01:002022-05-28T08:00:00.195+01:00Letters of Mrs Lucy Browne of Gorleston: 1835 & 1836<p style="text-align: justify;">Two letters in the collection that I describe in <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-revd-william-atkinson-of.html" target="_blank">The Revd William Atkinson of Kirkleatham & Cambridge (1755-1830)</a> are filled with news from Gorleston in Suffolk. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">They were written from Gorleston on 8 May 1835 and 22 July 1836 by Mrs Lucy Browne to Mrs Elizabeth Williamson – she features in the blogpost about her uncle the Revd William Atkinson.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mrs Lucy Browne is almost certainly the widow of William Atkinson's friend the Revd Thomas Browne, late rector of Gorleston. Mrs Elizabeth Williamson is her friend and former neighbour, now living in Baxtergate in Whitby.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mrs Browne's handwriting is not of the clearest, but I expect somebody who knows the area would recognise the names which my colleague has found illegible. There are many names <span style="text-align: left;">– </span><span style="text-align: left;">her friends the Miss Brownes, Mrs Oliver, Mrs Sewell, Mr Worshop, Mr Salmon, to name a few </span>– as Mrs Browne is anxious to keep her friend up-to-date with all the goings-on in Gorleston. She includes such little snippets of news as:</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">My poor friend Mr Morrison's Death is much lamented, he was a kind friendly Man</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mrs Price is at present in the same Lodgings with Miss Tapp whose Mother is dead. I hear the Match is quite off between Mrs P and Mr Wake. </p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">But I think the most tantalising bit of gossip must be about the Spalding-Astley marriage. Mrs Browne herself was an Astley by birth, so she must have a very good source here:</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">You could not be more surprised than I was in the Marriage [of] Miss Astley. Till after the sons Marriage then I thought it might take place, they have almost ever since been residing in a place that he purchased at Stockton about 17 miles from hence. Mr Spalding is in bad health confined to a weakness [?] in his heart, and is attended by Mr Smith who recommends abstinence. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">She is never seen and I hear nothing more of her than if she was not residing in the Parish, she is certainly in a more respectable situation since her marriage, but I fear she will have reason to repent. There is not any communication between her and her Brother, this affair has given him very much concern. </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Daniel Spalding and Mary Ann Elizabeth Astley had been married on 16 October 1834 at Gorleston. Perhaps Mr Spalding tried abstinence – perhaps he didn't – but at any rate his health worsened and he died in June the following year at the age of 60. In 1836, Lucy Browne wrote</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">the late Mr Spalding's House is still upon Sale – his Widow lives at present in part of a Farm House near [Haddiscoe?] but I hear she is going to leave shortly</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Contact the North Yorkshire County Record Office at Northallerton, which holds the collection of letters, if you're interested!</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-69822153638372732992022-04-15T08:00:00.001+01:002022-04-15T08:00:00.173+01:00Thomas Barlow Allinson writes a letter: 1836<div style="text-align: left;"></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas Barlow Allinson's letter of 1836 was among the small collection mentioned in <i><a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-revd-william-atkinson-of.html" target="_blank">The Revd William Atkinson of Kirkleatham & Cambridge (1755-1830)</a>. </i>These letters survived apparently by chance, but very probably because of the intervention of Mr John Gaskin, MBE, of Whitby. He was a solicitors' clerk for many years with Buchannans of Whitby and may have come across the letters in their offices and thought them worth preserving – possibly for their unusual postal markings, as he had a keen interest in philately. The collection is now in the Northallerton Archives.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">This is the story of one of those letters, as far as we can make it out. I say "we" because I'm indebted to my collaborator for contacting me in the first place and for all the research she has done. I hope this chance survival from 1836 might help the people who are trying to disentangle their Allinson forebears. The Allinsons you will meet in this blogpost lived in Whitby and near Penrith, in the parish of Dacre in Cumberland.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I'm quoting below from a transcript and I have made some alterations for readability's sake.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's a story which begins with Dickensian echoes and goes to darker places …</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="709" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNFP21R1PmSufGAbdZ4OWfd0qhgjalXhNrxQQZZ-qYiVURgSaXM8XsJ_DCqGuteEXAqTpgnM4M0nTQcy_C2ZruHyG1GYP7mjr3gZc4ClblCf8tpIrfJmLQjjCG9E81xIflorg5Rzdfkv08-xrOqkZKuc0y-MDUVmbHoGKC9t_0_WQz8HKREUcCa6E/s320/Billiter%20Square.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Billiter Square: O.S. 1840s-1860s. <a href="https://maps.nls.uk/index.html" target="_blank">National Library of Scotland</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">It's 4 April 1836. The writer of the letter is a 24 year old solicitor's clerk called Thomas Barlow Allinson. He's an unhappy and worried young man, marked by a series of disappointments and trapped in a job he doesn't like. When he came to London from Staffordshire in 1830, he had thought that his uncle Josiah Allinson would help him to a clerkship in a trading or banking house. Six years later, he's still with Messrs Druce in Billiter Square off Fenchurch Street in the City of London, in a job that was supposed to be temporary. It's the Easter vacation for the law courts, and he's writing a personal letter from his employers' offices in the City.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas is only a few months younger than Charles Dickens, who is now beginning his startling career as a writer – the first instalment of <i>The Pickwick Papers</i> appeared in print only weeks before Thomas started his letter. But Thomas's story has echoes of Dickens' much later and darker novels and the dark and dirty London of <i>Bleak House</i> is the one that Thomas knew.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas is writing to a relation he has never met, a Miss Nanny Ellerby Allinson of Whitby. He is offering her information she wants and he has carried out a favour she has asked for – and between these two sections of his long letter, he has sandwiched a tactful and carefully-written account of the financial difficulties and disappointments beneath which he, his mother and his 7 siblings are labouring. Miss Allinson is now under something of an obligation towards him, and she might be able to help them.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p></p><blockquote>I should suppose </blockquote><p></p><p>Thomas wrote </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">you are totally devoid of any information with regard to my family and the various difficulties my poor Mother with a family of 8 children has endured since the decease of my much lamented Father, who died about 10 years ago, and whose illness had been of such long continuance, about 5 years of which he was Superanuated from the Board of Excise, I am sure I scarcely need inform you that in such illness it required the whole of his Superanuation to support him</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas was baptised in Macclesfield on 19 August 1812 and he must have been about 9 years old when his father John Allinson's final illness began and he was pensioned off with a lump sum by his employers, H.M. Excise. So Thomas could remember the days of the family's prosperity when his father was Supervisor of Excise at Llangefni on Anglesey <span style="font-size: x-small;">[1]</span>, where the family lived for 11 years and where his elder brother had died aged 10. But when John Allinson died at the age of about 55, his widow Mary found herself largely unprovided for. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">She had to take the 8 children back to her home town where her own family, the Barlows, ("who have assisted her and family much") were at hand to help. This was Leek in Staffordshire, a market town and silk-manufacturing centre. <i>Pigot's Directory</i> of 1828 and the 1841 census show several<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Barlows – they included stone masons, a builder, and a John Barlow who kept the Queen's Head in Custard Street. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The eight surviving children – Mary, Thomas, Elizabeth, Joseph, Josiah, John Barlow, Ann and Jane Ellen – were then aged between 4 and 20 and the older ones must have been very conscious of the family's sudden drop in social standing and financial security, and their new dependence on others.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In 1836 things weren't much better. Thomas had clearly been taught a good, clear hand or he would never have found work writing deeds, documents and letters for solicitors but, he explained to Miss Allinson, the situation of his brothers and sisters is not good:</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">I am sorry the limits of my Letter will not allow me to state how they are all placed out in the world, but I grieve to say very indifferently, and not one of my poor Brothers to a Trade. I need not inform you, that my feelings with regard to my family are much wounded and harassed –</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Their father's family was, Thomas let it be understood, of very little help. John Allinson was the eldest son of John Allinson, yeoman of the parish of Dacre in Cumberland <span style="font-size: x-small;">[2]</span>, where Allinsons had lived for many generations. His farm was Meg Bank, described in an advertisement of 1856, when the effect of the Lake Poets – with the help of the railways – had made everybody aware of the beauties of Cumberland and Westmorland, as</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>Situate on the high road to Stainton, within 2 miles of Penrith, and 3 of the far famed Lake Ullswater, with a commanding view of its unrivalled mountain scenery.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">How much land they had, I don't know. Some of it was freehold and some was copyhold, which passed according to the manorial custom and not by Will. I don't know how much income they made from the lime kiln and the limestone on their land. Nor do I know if the Allinsons counted as Cumberland Statesmen, but they were certainly proud of their coat of arms and their motto 'Fare que Sentias'.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Old John Allinson and his wife Elizabeth Thompson had eight children, all baptised at St Andrew's, Dacre between 1771 and 1790: John, Thomas, Isaac, Jane, Elizabeth, George, Joseph and Josiah. Two of the children died before they reached the age of 21 – George was ten when he died in April 1794, a little less than three weeks after the death of his mother at the age of 40, and Joseph died aged 20 in 1807 <span style="font-size: x-small;">[3].</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyTY_GNCQ_YrdPhSGnyVbmBig4kfEGgTxY5PmJCquh_u2mcVFJN1EWqeZ79tbLuyZvIRB10Or39FPrfHIzrG3r5ys1JoydiDPpcRYW2DbvXDdi6A9dvYWBiuVO0d_t-oeAgLYEmQhR82xwlN8F9sFEzGdHcJcCpXcAtByW-ITe1cOPWCP_7pq-J3N/s988/St%20Andrew's%20Dacre%20CC%20BY-SA%202.0%20Humphrey%20Bolton.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="988" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyTY_GNCQ_YrdPhSGnyVbmBig4kfEGgTxY5PmJCquh_u2mcVFJN1EWqeZ79tbLuyZvIRB10Or39FPrfHIzrG3r5ys1JoydiDPpcRYW2DbvXDdi6A9dvYWBiuVO0d_t-oeAgLYEmQhR82xwlN8F9sFEzGdHcJcCpXcAtByW-ITe1cOPWCP_7pq-J3N/s320/St%20Andrew's%20Dacre%20CC%20BY-SA%202.0%20Humphrey%20Bolton.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Andrew's, Dacre <br /><a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/" target="_blank">CC BY-SA 2.0</a> Humphrey Bolton</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">It was to Josiah, his youngest uncle, that Thomas had applied for help in his career. He had been working as a solicitor's clerk in the country but he would never be able to support his mother and siblings on that salary. Josiah was a clerk in the Banking House of Messrs Hankey and Co of Fenchurch Street and he lived at No. 3 South Square, Gray's Inn <span style="font-size: x-small;">[4]</span> (Only a few years earlier, the 15 year old Charles Dickens had worked for solicitors in South Square, and it's where Tommy Traddles and his wife live in <i>David Copperfield</i>.) Believing that Josiah must have useful connections, Thomas wrote to him – it took several letters before he received a reply:</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">I arrived in London in Sept 1830 in pursuance of a Letter received from my late Uncle Josiah, I having previously written to him several times before I received any answer, stating he had procured a Merchantile Situation for me which being my intention to embark in, if possible: however, ultimately it was decided by my Uncle and his friends that the Situation would not answer my purpose – </p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">So it seems that, when he got to know his nephew, Uncle Josiah wasn't sure about the post's suitability for Thomas – or possibly Thomas's suitability for the post. Instead he found Thomas a place with Messrs Hankey's solicitors. These were Messrs Druce – Charles Druce senior and junior and John Druce – and they agreed to take Thomas on for a few months. The months lengthened into years and Thomas grew increasingly unhappy</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">From the period I entered their House in Septr 1830, I have remained in the same Situation, and in the meantime every exertion, and influence, had been exercised by my late Uncle and friends, and also as much as possible I have endeavoured to succeed in obtaining one in a Banking or Merchantile Establishment, but I regret much to say, hitherto without success – </p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">And now in 1836 his uncle Josiah is dead and Thomas is desperate for a new situation because he has no prospect of advancement in his present post, because the pay is poor and because</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>the continual confinement is very injurious, and imparing much my Constitution – I am sorry to say, I have suffered several attacks of illness within two years last past, and I attribute the cause of it to my unhealthy avocation – I am tall like my late Uncle, and I was 24 years of age in December last – I think that a Sedentary avocation disagrees with tall persons more so than others, I have noticed that to be the case here –</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">And there had been more disappointments. </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7dqkcBQqJCyT0bxbexV73HOVyoHrA1LN89goqWnD3c_yp1D0L5zyhgujnnnlScaR_e542W7n4Y8JfRpnKW7dAAylv2FB3XkrP3qZTKDcoDjWQ10rUEwB2V-5m462ijHeC5IEcyg8CgvtFobOKT9NYcvou0c9qocF4OcsI9epX45lTzlIheKdgU5K/s861/Allinson%20gravestone,%20Dacre.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="611" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7dqkcBQqJCyT0bxbexV73HOVyoHrA1LN89goqWnD3c_yp1D0L5zyhgujnnnlScaR_e542W7n4Y8JfRpnKW7dAAylv2FB3XkrP3qZTKDcoDjWQ10rUEwB2V-5m462ijHeC5IEcyg8CgvtFobOKT9NYcvou0c9qocF4OcsI9epX45lTzlIheKdgU5K/s320/Allinson%20gravestone,%20Dacre.JPG" width="227" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gravestone of John & Elizabeth Allinson <br />& family at Dacre<br />Courtesy of Malcolm Street<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Old John Allinson, Thomas's grandfather, had died on 25 November 1832 at the great age of 86. Thomas had thought – because his uncle Josiah and his family at home always said – that Thomas would inherit Meg Bank because, being the eldest son of the eldest son, he was his grandfather's heir at law. He had inherited some copyhold land when his father died and he did become entitled to a little more copyhold land when his grandfather died, but the two small rents together only made £25 a year and he was giving that to his mother. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">So his disappointment was great when he found that not only was his Uncle Thomas Allinson inheriting – after the payment of legacies – the remainder of the estate, but he would also have a life interest in Meg Bank. Thomas would only inherit the farm on his Uncle Thomas's death. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Quite possibly it was Uncle Thomas who had been farming the land as his father grew ever more advanced in years and the decision was quite natural from that point of view, but Uncle Thomas was doing quite well under the Will. His spinster sisters were required to give up to their brother the promissory note they were holding "against all other claims", but they did inherit the furniture, linen and plate. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Three years after his grandfather's death, in the autumn of 1835, Thomas and his elder sister Mary had made the journey up to Penrith – they must have travelled by the mail coach – stopping on the way with kind relatives in Buxton Hot Wells for a week. They didn't go for pleasure</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">on the contrary I had the benefit of my family deeply at heart, and from Letters received from my Uncle Thomas, I was in great hopes that some beneficial arrangement would have been effected with the aid of my little Copyhold Land; but alas I regret much to say, that my journey was totally futile, in consequence of my Uncle Thomas having thought proper to change the intentions which he had declared in his Letters to me – </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">So there was to be no helpful arrangement to maximise his family's income. Still, Thomas is anxious to assure Miss Allinson that they were "very kindly treated by my Uncle Thomas and my Aunts". Reporting on the health of the family, he says he thought his aunt Miss Elizabeth Allinson was "the most delicate of the whole family" and his 20 year old cousin Julia was "a very accomplished and amiable Young Lady, and with whose society I was much pleased". Even though he knew "the Romantic and Picturesque Sceneries" of North Wales from his boyhood</p><p></p><blockquote>on my entrance into Cumberland, and on viewing the varied Scenes the County bounds in, my opinion is they far surpass all the former Beauties of nature that I have before viewed</blockquote><p></p><p>In fact, he had been inspired to write "a farewell of the Beauty of the County in verse", which he would send to Miss Allinson if she liked.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">But the journey was a disappointment and, because he was away such a long while, there won't be any holiday for him this year – much as he would have liked to take Miss Allinson up on her kind offer of a stay by the sea in Whitby. And there was another disappointment</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">But to crown all my blighted hopes, this fact I cannot avoid mentioning to you </blockquote><p></p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">When I arrived here my late Grandfather was so kind to write to me to say that he would advance a sum of money, if an opportunity occurred when I could turn it to my advantage.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Uncle Josiah's friend George Bainbridge was in Cumberland soon afterwards and </p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Grandfather entrusted him with a Sum of £100 (in Sovereigns) to be given to my late Uncle Josiah to be applied to my advantage but when he had received it he informed me that he had received only £20 from my late Grandfather, and which last sum I received – </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mr Bainbridge told me of this fact, two or three days after my Uncle's decease until that time, I was in total ignorance of the fact – </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I must state that this, and other Circumstances have dampened and depressed my Spirits, and I confess I still feel the disappointment which such occurrences naturally cause in my mind –</p></blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas's involved syntax and reluctance to make any direct accusation makes this rather obscure, but it looks as though Uncle Josiah has taken the missing £80. So it seems that when Thomas wrote of his uncle</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>To describe the virtues he possessed I am afraid my pen would fall far short of describing these as his merits deserved</blockquote><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">he was being particularly careful and lawyerly with his words.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On top of that, Thomas must have hoped for something under Uncle Josiah's Will – but </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">With regard to his affairs, I have no doubt you will be surprized as much as I was myself when I have informed you of their state</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Josiah had left it all to George Bainbridge, a timber merchant of Rotherhithe. The two men had been close friends from the beginning of their time in London and Mr Bainbridge had lent Uncle Josiah money. So the Will is by way of settlement of the loan, and perhaps in gratitude for the advance. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">But one of Thomas's main objectives – ostensibly, at least – in writing to Miss Nanny Allinson is to tell her all about his Uncle Josiah's death. She was Josiah's cousin and she knew him </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>I have often heard my late Uncle speak of you, and whenever he did so, it was always with Sentiments of gratitude, esteem, and affection</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">When Thomas arrived in London in September 1830, his uncle – then a man of about 40 – was very far from well </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">but by care and attention on his part, his friends and myself had no doubt but that he would have been recruited in health; but love of Company predominated </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">A couple of years later he had to undergo an operation for a fistula – a dangerous operation, but successful. He was able to go back to work but grew steadily weaker until he was "seized with a rapid Consumption". So he had to stay in his chambers in Gray's Inn, attended by "2 of the most eminent and skilful Physicians in London and a married female to attend on him night and day".</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas himself did all he could but </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>nature gradually sunk, when on the morning of the 11th March 1835 at 9 'o clock he left this world with resignation, and full of confidence in the Divine Mercy. </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">A field in Dacre which Old John had left to Josiah – a freehold field called Gravel Bank – now passed to George Bainbridge. His gold and silver watches, rings and clothes were given to the married female. Mourning rings were ordered for close family and friends, just as Josiah had directed ("They are very handsome and I think costly"). On the evening before his death Josiah said Thomas should have the Family seals</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">on which is engraved the Family Arms with this motto "Fare que Sentias". The English translation of which is "speak what you think" – I mention this circumstance because you may probably have seen such seals in his possession – </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">but Thomas is sorry to say that he can't send a lock of Josiah's hair to Miss Allinson, as she requested – it had been given to a Mrs Brown, "an intimate friend of my late Uncle's". He was buried, in accordance with his request, in the churchyard at Rotherhithe where his friend George Bainbridge and his wife lived.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Josiah had written to his sister Elizabeth two or three times, but "he flattered her much as to his exact state". Thomas wrote to her when the doctors said that Josiah was dangerously ill, but had added at Josiah's insistence that neither she nor any of his relatives should come to London. But, Thomas writes</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>of course, they could use their discretion from the tenor of my Letter, whether they would come or not, but not one arrived – </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Nanny Allinson can be sure that she stands much higher in Thomas's opinion than any of his relatives in Cumberland. Your letter, he wrote</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">was a source of much consolation to me, for I assure you that I have never received such a Letter from any of my Aunts, Uncles or Cousins since I have been in this large Metropolis</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">She had sent him a present</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>I never before saw a Yorkshire loaf, with which I assure you I am much pleased, and coming from the Country, and also so kind a relative that I prize it very much – </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">and she invited him to visit her in Whitby. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">if I can make it convenient I shall be most happy to embrace the opportunity, for I am aware my health would receive great benefit from the Sea Air, and a week or fortnight relaxation from Business; for I am sorry to say, I have not, and which appears very strange, enjoyed such good health since my visit to Cumberland as I did before.</p></blockquote><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Indeed I have suffered such a severe attack, caused by indigestion as this Physician whom I consulted informed me, that I was under the necessity of obtaining the first Medical aid in London, but now I am happy to say I have nearly regained my usual health, which by unremitting care and attention on my part, and with the aid of the Supreme Being, who in his great wisdom and power assists the weak in Body and mind, I do not doubt but I shall be in the enjoyment of my former health and strength with which I have through life been blessed, until almost 2 years ago, and which is solely attributed to my very Sedentary avocation in which I am sorry to say it is misfortune to be placed </p></blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">At the end of his letter, Thomas turns to the task he has done for Nanny and the family. It seems he had written to her for instructions and had asked for an early reply</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I trust that I did not cause you any inconvenience from my early request for an answer to my letter; I believe I explained to you the cause: it was in consequence of an opportunity occurring to transmit a Letter to Barbados</blockquote><p></p><p><b>So who was Nanny Ellerby Allinson?</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Nanny Ellerby Allinson was a 47 year old spinster living comfortably in Whitby, the town where she was born on 6 September 1788. Her parents were George Allinson and his wife Ann Ellerby. Perhaps her father was the George Allinson "late innkeeper" whose death in Whitby on 15 December was announced in the <i>Hull Packet</i> of 22 December 1807. Records show that he kept the King's Head in Whitby<span style="font-size: x-small;"> [5]</span> but it seems that he had become a farmer by the time of his death as that is how he is described in the burial register. The register gives his age as 54, so he would have been born in about 1753. Perhaps his death came unexpectedly – he left no Will, so his widow Ann took out administration of his estate, which came in at under £200. She survived him until her death at the age of 73 in 1821.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas has been asked by Nanny – and unnamed others of the family – to make enquiries about monies due under the Will of her late uncle the Revd Thomas Allinson, who lived in Barbados. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">So Thomas went to examine the papers held by a Mr Hughes, who had been appointed Receiver, and he came to the conclusion that it would be perfectly valid to make enquiries in Barbados. It seems the people in England have very little idea of the Revd Thomas Allinson's estate and they are anxious about incurring any more expense or finding themselves caught up in litigation. Perhaps they are finding it difficult to get any information from Messrs Everleys, their attornies on the island:</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">I have written a Letter in accordance with the wish of all parties to their Constituted Attornies Messrs Everley's of Barbados. The purport of the Letter is for information generally with regard to the residuary Estate of your late Uncle The Revd Thomas Allinson in Barbados, and also an account of the Property at the time of his decease; until such information is received, all the parties will forever remain in total ignorance of their Equitable rights – </p></blockquote><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">I have endeavoured to write such a Letter as you seemed to wish – </p><p style="text-align: justify;">There is no danger of any expenses being caused by the course that I have advised to be taken, or any litigation to ensue –</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas has "mentioned to Mr Hughes the request contained in your letter" and he assures Miss Alliinson that</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">what little exertion and trouble in the matter I have taken is performed with pleasure, and I only hope that such efforts on my part will have the desired effect of the remaining property (if any) being remitted over to England </blockquote><p></p><p>(He is careful to dampen her expectations by qualifying the phrase "remaining property" with the words "if any"). He ends his letter</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Any command that you wish to execute in London I should be most happy to fulfil for you–</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I will conclude now trusting that you will deem my Letter written with the same feeling (as it was my intention to do) as yours to myself, namely, as a relative; and hoping that you will pardon the length of it, and also that the Family topics introduced will not be unacceptable or tedious in reading – </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I have embraced the present opportunity to write a full Letter, being Easter, and consequently Business is not so pressing or urgent –</p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">And Remain, My Dear Cousin</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yours very Affectionately</div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Tho. B. Allinson</p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">10 Billiter Square</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4th April 1836</div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">P.S. John Thompson the Tailor is dead – who was a friend of my Uncle's.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">At any time when it suits your convenience I shall be most happy to hear from you. The M.P.'s are out of Town, otherwise I would have obtained a Frank.</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">It was a long letter and, with Members of Parliament out of London because of the Easter recess, Thomas wasn't able to get a frank for it. So – as these were the days before the Penny Post – Miss Nanny Allinson will have had to pay for the letter on receipt. But, after all, Thomas had been carrying out her errands.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>So, who was the Revd Thomas Allinson?</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Here the story takes a very much darker turn – into slavery in the West Indies.</div><p style="text-align: justify;">Nanny Ellerby Allinson's uncle, the Revd Thomas Allinson, was born in Cumberland in about 1756. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps he went to the well-known grammar school at Great Blencow, where Lord Ellenborough LCJ was educated, or to Penrith, or further afield to Bampton Grammar School, which was particularly known for supplying candidates for ordination. At school he will have received a thorough grounding in Latin and Greek, possibly even Hebrew, and perhaps some background in divinity. <span style="font-size: x-small;">[6] </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">He didn't go to university – at this time the Northern clergy were far less likely than clergy in the south to have been graduates – and was made deacon at the Mayfair Chapel, Westminster on 28 June 1780. Then, interestingly, there is a 10 year gap before he was priested at the Fulham Palace Chapel on 28 November 1790 <span style="font-size: x-small;">[7]</span>. The Bishop of London – whose residence was Fulham Palace – would only ordain men for the colonies if they had an official promise of a post, so it looks as though Thomas's wait for ordination finally ended when he had an offer of employment in Barbados <span style="font-size: x-small;">[8]</span>. He travelled out there in 1791. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">In 1793 he was made rector of St Joseph's on the eastern side of the island, where he stayed for 3 years and where, according to the Gittens database <span style="font-size: x-small;">[9]</span>, he had three slaves baptised – which was not uncommon.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On 5 January 1797 he married Frances Elizabeth Gittens at St Philip's at the easternmost tip of the island. Her family had been settlers on the island since about 1645 and she had money from her father, so this was a good match for Thomas. From that time until his death on 19 August 1815, Thomas was rector of St Philip's. He was also Master of the Free School in Bridge Town, where he taught the pupils the subjects he had learned back in Cumberland – Latin, Greek, grammar and so forth <span style="font-size: x-small;">[10]</span>. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas had made his Will on 29 March 1807, several years before his death. It seems that he and his wife were then planning a journey because his wife is to be his executrix unless she doesn't survive the voyage. In that case, his brother-in-law the Hon. Joshua Gittens and his nephew the Revd Isaac Allinson were to be executors in her place. So Isaac must have been on Barbados with his uncle.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas left his wife a life interest in his estate, which was to be divided after her death and transmitted to his brothers and sisters in England in four equal shares. So his nephew Isaac was the son of one of those brothers, and another of the brothers was Nanny Ellerby Allinson's father George. Thomas gave legacies of 100 guineas apiece to his wife's four nieces and 200 guineas to his nephew Isaac on top of his share in the residue. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Revd Thomas Allinson was buried in the chancel of St Philip's where his widow had a memorial erected in his memory <span style="font-size: x-small;">[11].</span> He was "a native of the County of Cumberland and for more than thirty years a Resident in this Island", an "exemplary Minister" who died in the 59th year of his age.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">At this time, people on the island knew that Parliament in Westminster was looking to improve conditions for slaves in the West Indies. Rumours of imminent emancipation began to circulate among the slaves, together with rumours that this was being blocked by the planters. Conditions were ripe for a revolt but the white population were oblivious, believing that that their slaves were well treated and had more freedom than those on the other islands.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> [12]</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">In January 1816, Thomas's widow Frances put a notice in several successive editions of the local newspaper</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Barbados Mercury & Bridge-town Gazette, 13 January 1816</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">To the Constables of St Philip's Parish</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Five Pounds Reward will be paid to either of them, or to any other person, who will apprehend and lodge in the Cage, in Bridge-Town, a Negro Man Slave named George, the property of the late Rev Thomas Allinson. He is a very likely young man, about 30 years of age, with a very black skin, and wears whiskers. A further reward will be paid to any person who will legally prove that he has been harboured by any white or free coloured person. Masters of vessels are cautioned against taking him from the Island – the Law will be rigidly enforced against such offender.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Frances E Allinson</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">(<a href="http://slaveryandremembrance.org/collections/object/index.cfm?id=OB0056" target="_blank">The cage</a> was used to detain both the enslaved and the free)</p><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0uY612EsxVoHFaypJzIPTqZrj_2oJWF3Ub0xJ4SiNFtPc-oPyJkBnBtRFC5KVoBnrY3024UOYIltv243Lfovwj5a0oAjAENl8YIgpkrAGOI8MEyKf3uF2VT5UwXyfgB4ULqVTt0JJXC12gKKTXrqYdQ7PeY0qZQ9IokyNX82ICE8qYRpWShA4Yol/s865/Flag%20from%20Bussa's%20rebellion.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="729" data-original-width="865" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0uY612EsxVoHFaypJzIPTqZrj_2oJWF3Ub0xJ4SiNFtPc-oPyJkBnBtRFC5KVoBnrY3024UOYIltv243Lfovwj5a0oAjAENl8YIgpkrAGOI8MEyKf3uF2VT5UwXyfgB4ULqVTt0JJXC12gKKTXrqYdQ7PeY0qZQ9IokyNX82ICE8qYRpWShA4Yol/s320/Flag%20from%20Bussa's%20rebellion.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Flag taken from the rebels after Bussa's rebellion, showing they<br /> sought liberty while showing loyalty to Britain and to the Crown</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Three months later, Bussa's Rebellion broke out in the parish of St Philip. It was the largest slave revolt in the island's history and resulted in arson, property damage, executions and deportations. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Slave Registers for the following year record the three people owned by Frances Allinson:</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>Green – Male – Black – Domestic – 46 – Barbadian <br />Charlotte – Female – Black – Domestic – 14 – Barbadian <br />Grace – Female – Coloured – Domestic – 18 – Barbadian<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></blockquote><span style="white-space: pre;"></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Two years later, Frances Allinson died and was buried on 2 September 1819 at St Michael's. In her Will <span style="font-size: x-small;">[13]</span> she instructed her executors to see that her dear husband's Will was executed in the way he intended – sending the proceeds to the family in England:</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>I request that the servants now in my employ be sold to the best advantage for the benefit of the family at home.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">So some of the money awaited by nice Miss Allinson and the others will have come directly from the sale of people. However, by the time Nanny asks Thomas Barlow Allinson to write to Barbados on their behalf, the reforming Whig ministry of the 1830s had at last achieved emancipation of the slaves by the expedient of buying out the slave owners.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Leaving this dark history and turning back to Thomas Barlow Allinson in his employers' offices in Billiter Square ...</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We don't know why, 16 years after Mrs Frances Allinson's death, the family in England still know so little about the Revd Thomas's estate. Nor why a Receiver was appointed. It isn't a term that I have come across in the context of contested Wills, but I can easily imagine that the estate has ended up in Chancery – another echo of Dickens' <i>Bleak House</i>. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Revd Thomas Allinson must have assumed that his nephew Isaac would play a major part in ensuring that the monies were sent to England. Perhaps Isaac was no longer on the island; perhaps he was no longer alive. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>And who was the Revd Isaac Allinson?</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">John and Elizabeth Allinson of Meg Bank had four sons who survived to adulthood: John, Thomas, Isaac and Josiah. They must have received a good education at the Grammar School – John rose to Supervisor of Excise, Josiah was a clerk in a London banking house, and Isaac went to Worcester College, Oxford. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The <i>Alumni Oxonienses </i>lists Isaac Allinson, the son of John Allinson of Dacre, Cumberland, arm. (that is, armigerous – entitled to a coat of arms). Isaac was baptised at Dacre on 14 May 1775. He matriculated at Worcester College on 23 May 1803 aged 28, but there is no note of him taking a degree. Instead, possibly for financial reasons, he was ordained deacon on 25 September 1803 in Chester Cathedral and became a curate at Haslingden, north of Manchester, on the same day at a stipend of £50 a year. <span style="font-size: x-small;">[14] </span> I think that by 1807, when the Revd Thomas made his Will, Isaac was on Barbados, possibly as his curate.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">When Old John Allinson of Meg Bank made his Will in 1828, he mentioned his sons Thomas and Josiah, his daughters Jane and Elizabeth, and his late son John Allinson. He didn't mention Isaac and I haven't been able to find any further record of him. Perhaps by 1828 he had died. Perhaps it is the deaths of both Isaac and Josiah that has caused Nanny Allinson to turn to young Thomas for assistance.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">So it seems that the connection between Nanny Ellerby Allinson and Thomas is that her father George and his grandfather John were brothers. The other two siblings – the Revd Thomas Allinson left his estate to his brothers and sisters in England in four equal shares – are not mentioned.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We don't know what happened with the Revd Thomas Allinson's estate but by 1848 Nanny Allinson has some of his silver plate. When she makes her Will in 1848, she leaves – together with £100 – </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">the following articles of Silver Plate (all which formerly belonged to my late Uncle Thomas Allinson) namely one Castor Stand and Castors, one Egg Cup Stand with the Egg Cups and Spoons, Six table Spoons, Three Dessert Spoons, Six forks, one Soup Ladle, One Punch Ladle, one Rummer, One Server and one Cake Knife unto my relative Elizabeth Ellwood</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">An Elizabeth Ellwood had witnessed the Will of Old John Allinson of Meg Bank in 1828. Thomas had met a Mrs Ellwood in 1835 and mentions her in his account of his visit to Cumberland with his sister</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I must not forget the gratitude which we owe also to Mrs Ellwood particularly, and Mrs Hall for their charity and kindness</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">So Elizabeth Ellwood must have been close kin to Nanny Allinson and the family at Meg Bank, and the Ellwoods seem to be their friends or neighbours in 1835, but how they are connected, I do not know. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">And what happened to them all?</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Thomas comes into his inheritance, May 1843</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcn3ZhBfo-POrdS4q4MYc18GPfl6WxGZtJY1cb-Wywm-xULcao6rZv9RiDlE5kKc42Xop2S9EUFxCr6u1P3BvpwO7xQIqdQGKEVtCI-H_9BFIQg7cVPM9xSvN7lV1y3iA0gTuku8P4FmPwLPtGzVt3t1Nizhz4K__nWszIgknsvoR8TFHvM-WsOqcG/s867/Thomas%20&%20Mary%20Allinson,%20gravestone.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="867" data-original-width="852" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcn3ZhBfo-POrdS4q4MYc18GPfl6WxGZtJY1cb-Wywm-xULcao6rZv9RiDlE5kKc42Xop2S9EUFxCr6u1P3BvpwO7xQIqdQGKEVtCI-H_9BFIQg7cVPM9xSvN7lV1y3iA0gTuku8P4FmPwLPtGzVt3t1Nizhz4K__nWszIgknsvoR8TFHvM-WsOqcG/s320/Thomas%20&%20Mary%20Allinson,%20gravestone.JPG" width="314" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gravestone of Thomas Allinson of Meg Bank <br />& his wife Mary. Dacre, Cumbria. <br />Courtesy of Malcolm Street</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>At the end of April 1843, Thomas Barlow Allinson's uncle Thomas died at Meg Bank<p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Westmorland Gazette, 6 May 1843</i></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Deaths<br />At Meg Bank, Stainton, near Penrith, on Sunday last, Mr T Allison, yeoman, aged 64 years, much and deservedly respected by a large circle of relatives and friends</div></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">So Thomas came into his inheritance under his grandfather's Will. He hadn't been left the full extent of his grandfather's land; I don't know how much he did receive. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Some of the freehold fields had been left to Old John Allinson's surviving children – Josiah was given the field called Gravel Bank, Jane received a field on Flusco called Moor Fields, Elizabeth was left a field called Skregill also known as Creidlay. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">And out of Meg Bank, Thomas had to pay his cousin Julia and each of his brothers and sisters the sum of £50. They had all been compensated for the fact that he came into Meg Bank by legacies under their grandfather's Codicil of £150 each. Or perhaps his grandfather was under the impression that he could leave Thomas out because he had already had a gift of money – the £100 in sovereigns that turned, mysteriously, into £20 when it came into Thomas's hands. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7-yFZsCHWVs5-fSkqb2M3Wulz490I_EdDWARKDpOF62e3mxW0K3l30ZpvBLKRsn82XMgUIyiRQJyZBHtyBoHDO8vuQyNtvq6xS7WVplBfMtTI3mLekW2v4wz4NmrIrUwaMM9EaVP4w32C3_gEQ3xidmJKBhI2OXYU6D0xCrEmvRBvoDuMjDnKkQh/s824/Megbank,%20Stainton%20OS%201901.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="824" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ7-yFZsCHWVs5-fSkqb2M3Wulz490I_EdDWARKDpOF62e3mxW0K3l30ZpvBLKRsn82XMgUIyiRQJyZBHtyBoHDO8vuQyNtvq6xS7WVplBfMtTI3mLekW2v4wz4NmrIrUwaMM9EaVP4w32C3_gEQ3xidmJKBhI2OXYU6D0xCrEmvRBvoDuMjDnKkQh/w400-h328/Megbank,%20Stainton%20OS%201901.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Meg Bank & Stainton <br />O.S. 1901 <a href="https://maps.nls.uk/index.html" target="_blank">National Library of Scotland</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">How and when he managed to pay £350 worth of legacies, we don't know, but a few months after his uncle's death Thomas advertised Meg Bank to let in the <i>Carlisle Patriot</i> and the <i>Carlisle Journal</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Carlisle Patriot, 7 October 1843</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Farm to let</p><p style="text-align: justify;">To be Let, for a Short Term of Years, and Entered upon at Candlemas next</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The estate called Meg Bank, in the Township of Stainton, in the Parish of Dacre, within Two and a-half Miles of the Market Town of Penrith, consisting of about 25 Acres of Arable and Meadow Land, with a Lime Kiln, and Limestone upon the same, together with a good Dwelling House, suitable for a private residence, with requisite Out-Buildings.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Proposals in writing, will be received, by Thos Thompson, Keld Head, who will show the Premises. The Tenant will be declared, as soon as an adequate offer is made</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">There seem to have been no takers, at least for the house, so he must have come to another arrangement because his cousin Julia and her mother are still living at Meg Bank at the 1851 Census. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">His Aunt Elizabeth may have looked delicate when he saw her in 1835, but she lived on until 1848. Her sister Jane died the following year. They had never married but spent their lives together in the village of Stainton. Nanny Ellerby Allinson had left them each £10 in her Will but they only survived her by a matter of months. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Death of Nanny Ellerby Allinson, 4 May 1848</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Nanny made her Will on 16 February 1848 and died on 4 May. She left Thomas her gold seal and a legacy of £30, with 19 guineas each to his brothers and sisters. This suggests to me that she and Thomas had got to know each other by then. I think he probably left London after he came into his little inheritance, perhaps because of poor health or perhaps because the loss of his eldest sister Mary in 1841 had hit him hard.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Nanny's Will gives us a picture of her life – the silver plate from her uncle Thomas, her gold seal, the gold watch she always wore and the gold watch that belonged to her grandfather Thomas Ellerby, her brooch set with pearls, the silver tankards she left to her two executors and her pew in the parish church of St Mary's. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrfGbndOB9kbSqlWzk1D99fWu9GiX-mWsHSOL6TwF2Y4XENqeCNisLArdba_2TssQdc7W2tfC_0g_Iyyc1EyM_HUa2CbhJG4GOmpf8KIvKqU4_qDbrLSc5hCub4IqQ7gMSq1otA5hph7KQzFfc9YXqPeOdEF7PI7nuvzvea1DW1MOSoPVV67edNhI/s1098/Church%20Stairs,%20Whitby.%20%20Stephen%20Craven.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1098" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrfGbndOB9kbSqlWzk1D99fWu9GiX-mWsHSOL6TwF2Y4XENqeCNisLArdba_2TssQdc7W2tfC_0g_Iyyc1EyM_HUa2CbhJG4GOmpf8KIvKqU4_qDbrLSc5hCub4IqQ7gMSq1otA5hph7KQzFfc9YXqPeOdEF7PI7nuvzvea1DW1MOSoPVV67edNhI/s320/Church%20Stairs,%20Whitby.%20%20Stephen%20Craven.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/6029488" target="_blank">Church Stairs, Whitby</a> by <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/legalcode" target="_blank">Stephen Craven</a></span> </td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">Then there was the income from her properties – a house in Silver Street, a house in Church Street, a warehouse and tenements near the foot of the Church Stairs, two houses in Hunter Street, two properties in the Wesley Chapel Yard near Church Street, and property on St Ann's Staith. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">She remembered in her Will various people she described as relatives: Mary James, Ann Graham, William Ellerington, Elizabeth Ellwood, and Ann, the widow of Thomas Ellerby and their three children. But her main beneficiary was her relative Elizabeth Morton and her young children, all under the age of 6: Anne Ellerby Morton, George Allinson Morton, Thomas Marshall Morton and John Morton. Elizabeth was the daughter of Thomas Ellerington, sea captain, and had married John Morton, grocer in Kirkbymoorside in 1841. By 1851, with their extra income from Nanny, they were keeping a lodging house in the fashionable resort of Harrogate at 78 West Park.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Thomas's last years: Sandsend and the Asylum</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The year after Nanny died, Thomas lost his mother. The 1851 Census finds him lodging – where perhaps he had been living for a while – in Sandsend with Mrs Jane Addison. She describes herself as "formerly a straw bonnet maker", but now her family income came from her two lodgers – Thomas and an 8 year old girl – while her two boys, aged 12 and 14, were already working as labourers in the nearby alum mines. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas describes himself on the census form as "Landed Proprietor". It's a grand title for someone living in Sandsend, which wasn't the pretty, pleasant place we know today because of the alum works. <a href="https://east-clevelands-industrial-heartland.co.uk/2018/01/17/the-alum-industry-of-north-east-yorkshire/ " target="_blank">Alum mining</a> was England's first chemical industry and the quarrying – the constantly burning clamps of shale – the slow industrial processes – the shipping out of the finished product – all this meant that close to Sandsend there was a busy, dirty industrial complex. Little remains of it now; the car park is on the site of the <a href="https://ancientmonuments.uk/116349-sandsend-alum-house-lythe#.YhoPm-jP28V" target="_blank">alum house</a>. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhm8SgTSqiAGnwhrvb_kdlKtouweCuJvNUv-FQlCeQYD83xocT2s_4IWxnOQUb1BMvVGaZ2yLy73To-Mf9rubggf9KJHLt164cg3gAIPvf4TGE9c-GpBgeRQ_T1Wf9BUObcJrgTyJ2aAIoNm1Q-rNR2mArzl0s8E8n9fgAsFuvAP_mQcbsf3hnPYpX/s1289/Sandsend%20&%20East%20Row%20O.S.%201911.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="723" data-original-width="1289" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhm8SgTSqiAGnwhrvb_kdlKtouweCuJvNUv-FQlCeQYD83xocT2s_4IWxnOQUb1BMvVGaZ2yLy73To-Mf9rubggf9KJHLt164cg3gAIPvf4TGE9c-GpBgeRQ_T1Wf9BUObcJrgTyJ2aAIoNm1Q-rNR2mArzl0s8E8n9fgAsFuvAP_mQcbsf3hnPYpX/w640-h358/Sandsend%20&%20East%20Row%20O.S.%201911.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sandsend & East Row<br />O.S 1911 <a href="https://maps.nls.uk/index.html" target="_blank">National Library of Scotland</a></td><td class="tr-caption"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thomas's sisters were married to men in good positions or trades. In 1843 Jane Ellen had married James Rowland, a saddler in Wister in Derbyshire; two years later Anne married George Waterall, a Rocester butcher. Elizabeth was the widow of Archibald Keates, a sheriff's officer in Rocester, and a few months after the 1851 census she would marry George Kay. By the time of the 1871 census, George was the manager of one of the two cotton mills in Rocester, a few miles north of Uttoxeter. As their home was the Mill House in Churnet Row, he must have been managing <a href="http://www.eaststaffsbc.gov.uk/sites/default/files/docs/planning/conservlistedbuild/appraisalconsult/RocesterCAA.pdf" target="_blank">Podmore's Mill</a>. </div><p style="text-align: justify;">All three sisters had children. Thomas's brother Josiah spent his working life as a mechanic, which probably means in a mill or manufactury. Joseph worked as a farm labourer for many years. They both married, and Joseph had a family. The youngest brother, John Barlow Allinson, was a grocer; he didn't marry.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas's cousin Julia – the "very accomplished and amiable Young Lady" he had met in 1835 – was married in 1854 to William Holme, a much respected and beloved doctor in Bowness-on-Windermere (and, according to the Penrith Observer in 1953, the uncle of the last King of Mardale). They lived at Cleator Lodge, where Julia's mother died a few months after her daughter's wedding. Julia's daughters lived out their days there together, unmarried.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Meanwhile, Meg Bank was let to tenants and – since the last advertisement 13 years earlier – had been turned by a tenant into a desirable residence</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Cumberland and Westmorland Advertiser, and Penrith Literary Chronicle, 8 July 1856</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Country Residence</p><p style="text-align: justify;">To be let, with immediate possession, the Seat of T W Edwards, Esq., all that Dwelling House &c called Meg Bank; with Shrubbery, Flower and Kitchen Gardens; together with an enclosure of Land, Situate on the high road to Stainton, within 2 miles of Penrith, and 3 of the far famed Lake Ullswater, with a commanding view of its unrivalled mountain scenery. Rent medium.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">For particulars apply at the Office of John Salkeld, Commercial Accountant, 2 Brunswick Square, Penrith</p></blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">By this time, Thomas had been in poor health for some years. When he made his Will in 1855, he made Mrs Jane Addison one of his executors. She was his landlady and "his good and kind nurse for years" and he left her the sum of £150.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Jane Addison was born in about 1806, so she was a few years older than Thomas. She was widowed young when her husband William, a master mariner, died and she kept herself and her three small children by making straw hats. By 1851 she had taken in Thomas as a lodger. His life in Mrs Addison's cottage can be glimpsed in his description of her – his "good and kind nurse" – and in the newspaper reports of the exhibitions of the Whitby Floral and Horticultural Society and the East Row and Sandsend Horticultural Society. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Jane Addison was an assiduous entrant into the societies' competitions. She regularly won prizes in the Cottagers' sections and at Sandsend she even won a prize for her raspberries in the Amateurs' division. Round potatoes, cabbages, spring sown onions, turnips, carrots, table apples, rhubarb, strawberries, raspberries, blackcurrants – her garden must have been a picture. And she won in Best Bouquet of Flowers and Two Window Plants in Pots.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps Thomas needed nursing because he had again been troubled by attacks "caused by indigestion", but his sufferings went beyond that. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">He might be the Thomas Allinson who had been taken into the Hull Borough Asylum on 31 October 1856 and then released, recovered, on 25 March 1858. He was certainly admitted to the Lunatic Asylum at Clifton near York on 13 June 1858. He was discharged three months later on 30 September, but then he was taken into the asylum again on 1 November.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The asylum's official name was the North & East Ridings Pauper Lunatic Asylum<span style="font-size: x-small;"> [15]</span> and it stood in 142 acres of ground in the open countryside beyond Clifton on the outskirts of York. Thomas will have found himself in a large complex with its own chapel, laundry, kitchens, bakehouse and workshops. It had opened only ten years earlier and had already been extended twice. It was built for 144 patients but the pressure for places was so great that they had added two new wings in 1851 and two new wards in 1856. On 1 January 1858 there were 446 patients. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The daily routine was steady and unvarying, and it included recreation outside in the "airing courts" and, for those who could do it, work or learning a trade, because work was therapeutic.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In spite of the rapidly growing numbers, the medical superintendent Samuel Hill and his wife Sarah, who was matron for the women, held to their principles and sought to provide as homely an atmosphere as they could, with good food, recreation and occupation. The asylum took in poor patients who had been in the workhouse or kept in confined conditions at home and the aim was for the asylum to provide a much more suitable and kindlier place to live. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Samuel Hill believed in the humane "moral treatment" that had been pioneered in the York Retreat – treating the patients as people and encouraging rational behaviour by simple rewards and punishments. Mr Hill and the staff used sedation and mild forms of restraint where necessary and they believed strongly in keeping the patients occupied. So the women worked in the laundry or at sewing and the men worked in the garden or on the farm, or at various trades. Mr Hill noted in his 1859 report</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">the healthy, invigorating, and interesting occupations always enjoyed by the whole of the inmates who are not afflicted with diseases forbidding their sharing in such pleasures and diversions. Their profitable industry, it was obvious, must be alike advantageous to themselves and the institution, and throughout the last year it had been marked in its results</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">And the Commissioners in Lunacy noted that in 1861</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">the system of employing patients in profitable labour, organised and carried out in this asylum upon a large scale, and under favourable conditions, continues to be attended with the best results, nor does anything connected with it seem to us worthier of remark than the number of idiotic and imbecile patients whose mental condition and bodily health are improved, and their listlessness and monotony of existence relieved, while they are thus rendered useful to the institution.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The York Poor Law Union guardians' committee visited their pauper lunatics at the beginning of 1858. There were 18 of them – an epileptic, five with "dimentia" and 12 with various forms of mania. They reported of the dementia patients, </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">which form almost the only class of lunatics capable of being managed in a workhouse, some are reported to be destructive to clothing, and at times spiteful to others; whilst the remainder are maintained in such good bodily health and their mental condition so much improved by the constant and anxious care evidently displayed in their management, that the committee would not at present recommend their removal to the workhouse</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">and noted </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">with entire satisfaction the care and attention to the wants and comforts of the patients in the institution, displayed even in its most minute details, and the general appearance of happiness and contentment which pervaded the establishment, the attention paid to the bodily comforts of the patients as regards their personal cleanliness, clothing, and the warmth and ventilation of the apartments, are all that could be desired.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">There were entertainments for the patients and the occasional outing. The 1857 report, carried in the Yorkshire Gazette of 10 April 1858, noted that</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">The customary social evening meetings and out-door games take place in the usual way, and continue to interest all the patients, not only for the amusement they afford, but also for the variety of refreshments supplied to them on those joyous occasions</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mr Hill didn't expect, or want, to keep patients indefinitely, though of course a large number of them were in such a state of health that they had come to spend their last years in a pleasanter environment than the workhouse. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">In his 1859 report, he urged parishes to send patients as soon as possible after they were taken ill, for "without prompt measures the probabilities of cure are greatly diminished" but he also gave the encouraging example of two patients, aged 20 and 48 years old. They arrived at the asylum after having no nourishment for nearly a week, were nearly pulseless after enduring a journey of many hours, were much exhausted and appeared only to have a few hours to live. By this time they had been seriously ill for several weeks, </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">violent and raving, both conceived themselves to be Jesus Christ, and to have vast possessions and almost infinite powers … Nourishment was administered in small quantities and tonic medicines were also prescribed </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">their physical strength improved, they regained their reason, both recovered and went home to their families.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">So Thomas was fortunate in coming to the asylum in the early days of county asylums before the ever-increasing demand meant they were far too overcrowded to attempt the sort of régime that Mr Hill and his colleagues advocated.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">It was the Paupers Asylum, but it's possible that Thomas was actually a paying patient – in 1857 the weekly charge for maintenance, clothing, and medical care, including the repairs of bedding, furniture etc was 7 shillings per patient</div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas was still there at the time of the 1861 Census, listed as 52 years old (though I think at that point he was 49), solicitor's clerk of Whitby. He died there a year later on 16 March 1862 of "Diarrhoea: Certified" – whether this was an infection, food poisoning, or the last symptoms of something that had been plaguing him all his adult life, we don't know. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>After Thomas's death</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas had made his Will on 3 December 1855 and had it witnessed by a bank clerk called John Harris and by Francis Kildale Robinson (1809-82). Mr Robinson was a druggist for many years at the top of Bridge Street, who had published his book <i>A Glossary of Yorkshire Words and Phrases, Collected in Whitby and the Neighbourhood</i> that year (you can find it online). <i>Whitby: Its abbey and the principal parts of the neighbourhood</i> followed in 1860 and he grew to have a national reputation, so that newspapers across the country carried the news of his death in 1882.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas named as his executors Mrs Jane Addison and his brother-in-law James Rowland, the saddler in Winster. To Mrs Addison he left £150 and all his clothes, watches, desks, books and everything else belonging to him at his death, except the old family watch which had belonged to his father. This he left to his brother Joseph, who was the next to him in age. The rest of his money was to be divided equally between his brothers and sisters.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">That left the house called Meg Bank and 42 acres of land. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">He left Meg Bank and its outbuildings to Joseph and he divided the land between them all. Joseph was left a 1 acre field called Bottom's Croft, a 4 acre field called Hall Bank, and a 1 acre field called High Heads. To his brother John he left Winney Hill (4 acres) and Haregill (2 acres). To Josiah he left Forescarth (3 acres) and Back of Close (3 acres). To his sisters, he left life interests, with their children to inherit the fields after their deaths. Ann Waterall received Top of Close (3 acres), Slapestones (1 acre) and Coggersteads (4 acres). Elizabeth received Screadly (6 acres) and Jane Ellen, whose husband would have the work of being an executor, received a 10 acre field called Moorfields. </p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Before long, the new railway linking Cockermouth, Keswick and Penrith cut across the land. Six months after Thomas's death, his brother John died and, when his fields were put up for auction, the sale particulars explicitly excluded "such part of the same two Closes as has recently been sold for the purposes of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cockermouth,_Keswick_and_Penrith_Railway" target="_blank">Cockermouth, Keswick and Penrith Railway</a> " </div></div><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">The Land now offered for sale comprises about 5¾ acres. The Haregill field abounds with limestone which it will require many years to exhaust, and a LIME KILN, already exists for its manufacture. It is seldom that so choice an investment is to be met with, for the property contains within itself the principal elements for carrying on an extensive business </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Joseph kept Meg Bank until 1870, when he put it up for auction</p><p></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Penrith Observer, 30 August 1870</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Freehold estate for sale at Stainton</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mr John Varty will sell by auction, on Thursday, the 15th day of September 1870 at the Crown Inn, Stainton, all that desirable estate known by the name of Megg Bank, situated near Stainton, in the Parish of Dacre, in the County of Cumberland, consisting of a good Dwelling House, Farm Buildings, Garden, and Orchard, with 6½ acres (be the same more or less) of excellent Meadow Land adjoining.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mr Henry Clarke, the tenant, will shew the premises, and further Particulars may be known by applying to Mr Joseph Allinson, Bagnell, Stoke-upon-Trent, Staffordshire, the Owner; or to Mr John Thompson, Keldhead, Stainton.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">NB – Megg Bank is situated in the respectable neighbourhood of Stainton, two miles from the Market Town of Penrith, three miles from the Lake Ullswater, and half-a-mile from the River Eamont, which abounds with Trout, and offers a desirable pastime for the Angler. The Post passes the house twice a day.</p></blockquote><p></p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">The Sale to commence at Six o'clock in the Evening</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">We catch a glimpse of the little farm at Meg Bank under Joseph's tenant Henry Clark in an advertisement in the <i>Penrith Observer</i> on 3 January 1871. He was giving up farming and putting his stock up for sale. Besides his carts, ploughs, dairy utensils and his other farming equipment, he had: five head of shorthorned cattle (3 spring calving cows, 1 splendid 2 year old bullock, and 1 yearling heifer); 1 excellent Black Cob, 7 years old, quiet to ride and drive; 1 Fat Sow; 1 Stack and 1 Mowstead of Meadow Hay of prime quality; about 10 tons of first-class Swede Turnips; a number of Barn Door Poultry and a large quantity of Manure.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUKct2tV7LftEYvm3rjEk01BVzj6GaLyrXEfs6tGmxCImjJmOxgUbyt-DN7S18s1S955qcc-leFolya4U3waYiZLXfEf9HqQ5_Kn_JQG7TwsPaLfc4FgDfF3s5ihLkDmOAhh2BULxY3rhAuToqiSWWiYrR2n7ck4q9W9NaIu3lImBOKQOenKjqUQb/s1116/A%20Grey%20Shorthorn%20Cow%20by%20William%20Henry%20Davis,%201831.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="1116" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuUKct2tV7LftEYvm3rjEk01BVzj6GaLyrXEfs6tGmxCImjJmOxgUbyt-DN7S18s1S955qcc-leFolya4U3waYiZLXfEf9HqQ5_Kn_JQG7TwsPaLfc4FgDfF3s5ihLkDmOAhh2BULxY3rhAuToqiSWWiYrR2n7ck4q9W9NaIu3lImBOKQOenKjqUQb/s320/A%20Grey%20Shorthorn%20Cow%20by%20William%20Henry%20Davis,%201831.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A Grey Shorthorn Cow by William Henry Davis, 1831</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Notes</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[1] </span> In the baptismal registers for the births of the three youngest children, their father is described as John Allinson, Supervisor </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[2] </span> Thomas Barlow Allinson's father John is mentioned in the Will & Codicil of John Allinson, yeoman, of Stainton, Penrith, in Carlisle Archives </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[3] </span> The deaths of George and Joseph Allinson, children of John Allinson and Elizabeth Thompson, are recorded on the inscription on the gravestone to the family in Dacre churchyard</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[4]</span> For beautiful photographs of South Square, where Josiah Allinson lived, before and after WWII damage, and a history of the Square see <a href="https://alondoninheritance.com/thebombedcity/the-lost-buildings-of-south-square-grays-inn" target="_blank">A London Inheritance</a>/ </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[5]</span> George Allinson kept the King's Head in Whitby, cf North Riding of Yorkshire Quarter Sessions 1798 in Northallerton Archives</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[6] </span> For Northern grammar schools and ordination candidates see the <i><a href="https://readingreligion.org/books/education-anglican-clergy-1780-1839 " target="_blank">Review of The Education of the Anglican Clergy, 1780-1839</a> </i>(2017) by Sara Slinn</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[7] </span> for the career of the Revd Thomas Allinson, see the Church of England <a href="https://theclergydatabase.org.uk/jsp/search/index.jsp" target="_blank">Clergy Database</a> and the extremely helpful data on the Gittens database at <a href="https://gittens.info/genealogy/getperson.php?personID=I1771&tree=1" target="_blank">https://gittens.info/genealogy/getperson.php?personID=I1771&tree=1</a> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[8] </span> For Clergy in the colonies: see <i>The Rev William Harte and Attitudes to Slavery in Early 19th century Barbados</i> by J T Gilmore, Sidney Sussex College. Journal of Ecclesiastical History Vol 30 No 4 October 1979 <a href="https://warwick.ac.uk/fac/arts/english/currentstudents/undergraduate/modules/fulllist/special/iteratureandempire/harte_selections.pdf " target="_blank">here</a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[9]</span> For the baptism of slaves, see the Gittens database <a href="https://gittens.info/genealogy/getperson.php?personID=I1771&tree=1" target="_blank">https://gittens.info/genealogy/getperson.php?personID=I1771&tree=1</a> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[10] </span> for Revd Thomas Allinson as Master of Free School, see [7] above</p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[11] </span> The inscription on the memorial to Revd Thomas Allinson can be found here <br /><a href="https://gittens.info/genealogy/showsource.php?sourceID=S1699&tree=1 " target="_blank">https://gittens.info/genealogy/showsource.php?sourceID=S1699&tree=1 </a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[12]</span> For Bussa's rebellion, see <a href="http://www.nlj.gov.jm/history-notes/The%20Emancipation%20Wars.pdf " target="_blank">The Emancipation Wars</a>, National Library of Jamaica, the <a href="https://cdn.nationalarchives.gov.uk/documents/education/bussa.pdf " target="_blank">National Archives datasheet</a>, and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bussa%27s_rebellion" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a> </div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[13]</span> For information on Frances Elizabeth Allinson see the Gittens database <a href="https://gittens.info/genealogy/getperson.php?personID=I1312&tree=1 " target="_blank">https://gittens.info/genealogy/getperson.php?personID=I1312&tree=1 </a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[14]</span> Revd Isaac Allinson's ordination: Church of England <a href="https://theclergydatabase.org.uk/jsp/search/index.jsp " target="_blank">Clergy Database</a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[15]</span> For The North & East Ridings Pauper Lunatic Asylum, see this information on the <a href="https://borthcat.york.ac.uk/index.php/clifton-hospital " target="_blank">Borthwick Institute website</a> and on the <a href="https://www.countyasylums.co.uk/clifton-york/ " target="_blank">County Asylums</a> website</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-63225064333428786892022-03-05T08:40:00.017+00:002022-03-15T16:47:58.831+00:00Jane Atkinson of Kirkleatham (1751-1817), wife of Captain Thomas Galilee<div style="text-align: left;"><i>I've revised an earlier post of May 2013 and, as it belongs with the preceding posts, I'll post it here as well. </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The two letters quoted below were among the small collection of letters referred to in the previous post about the Revd William Atkinson. I have made some alterations to spelling and punctuation for readability's sake.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Jane was born in 1751, the daughter of <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/thomas-atkinson-1722-92-master-of-sir.html" target="_blank">Thomas Atkinson</a> of Scaling Dam (a hamlet on the Whitby to Guisborough road) and his wife Elizabeth Featherstone. She grew up at Kirkleatham where her father was Master of the Blue Coat Boys at Sir William Turner's Hospital. <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/thomas-atkinson-surgeon-b1753-of.html" target="_blank">Her younger brother Thomas</a> Atkinson was a surgeon who wrote a </span><a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/11/whaling-journal-of-thomas-atkinson-of.html " style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">journal of a whaling voyage to the Davis Straits in 1774</a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Jane married <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2013/05/captain-thomas-galilee-1744-97-and-his.html " target="_blank">Thomas Galilee</a> on 4 June 1775.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The <i>Newcastle Courant</i> of Saturday 17 June 1775 records: <br /><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">Last week at St Mary’s Church, Rotherhithe, London, Capt Thomas Galilee of Whitby, to Miss Atkinson of Kirkleatham<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnS5qSFtr6y27LtWT2pWZNJHD-AJlP0VI0Li3v2XhSdydpzAokEQ2HO3DiS5E7kZpf8wxwQRSlkh4_Z0mElhd6adEwRtLZbxGdWryOh4x2I_Xnt0rw5TGQx_hC8Z3fqFSFbcenLRf_5oxnvcpwR6ahtXEu7O2JfWS7gyd8XZ1rEzDk9_fWSqQx_6qk=s987" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="987" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnS5qSFtr6y27LtWT2pWZNJHD-AJlP0VI0Li3v2XhSdydpzAokEQ2HO3DiS5E7kZpf8wxwQRSlkh4_Z0mElhd6adEwRtLZbxGdWryOh4x2I_Xnt0rw5TGQx_hC8Z3fqFSFbcenLRf_5oxnvcpwR6ahtXEu7O2JfWS7gyd8XZ1rEzDk9_fWSqQx_6qk=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Mary's Rotherhithe by Rob Kam</span></td></tr></tbody></table></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Jane and Thomas spent many years in Rotherhithe, where their daughters were born and baptised, living in a house that Thomas owned in Princes Street. They were living there in 1788 when he wrote to his wife from Narva in Estonia on 21 May. At the time, the main trade with the Baltic was in timber and Thomas was taking on a load of sawn boards ("deals"). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Narva, May 21st 1788</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My Dear Jane,<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">I have now the pleasure to acquaint you that I am all Loaded except one pram of deals which I hope to get on board to night. We have had a very troublesome time of it in the Bay and very cold weather that several of my people is laid up. I hope in God this will find you in good health and all my dear children as bless God I am at present and I hope soon to have a happy meeting. I have no news to tell you as this is the first time I have been in town since I arrived – it seems to be a poor place and every thing is very dear so that I have not bought you anything. Please to acquaint Mr. Richardson of my being loaded and not to forget the Insurance<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">I hope soon to have the pleasure to see you, pray give my love to my children &c, I am your ever affectionate and</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div>Loving Husband</div><div>Thomas Galilee</div></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">It seems he had two passengers with him – perhaps they were there for the experience – but they hadn't enjoyed the trip much. He ends his letter</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>My Two young Gentlemen is very well but I fancy this Voyage will make them sick of the sea.</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It seems very likely that, when the Ship News in the <i>Kentish Gazette</i> on 20 June 1788 reported that the "Amphion, Gallilee, from Narva" had passed Gravesend on 16 June, it was Captain Thomas Galilee returning home. </div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: justify;">The following year, the French Revolution began and in 1792 Britain and France were at war. The days of peaceful sailing to the coasts of Europe were over and life must have become considerably more complicated for master mariners. By the summer of 1795, Thomas and Jane had moved across the river to Number 168 Wapping High Street where Jane was now trading as a China and Slop-Seller, with help in the business from the older girls. Because of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, Britain's Navy and merchant marine were of great size and enormous importance, so there must have been plenty of possibilities in selling slops – that is, clothing for sailors. In 1797 Jane was left a widow with 6 daughters aged between 10 and 19 – I can't find out whether Thomas died on land or at sea. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A letter written by Jane to her daughter Elizabeth on 18 March 1808 gives us a glimpse of her character and her situation. Elizabeth was 28 years old and at home in Wapping. She would soon be married to William Williamson, a master mariner.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jane wrote from Stapleford near Cambridge where she had been looking after <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-revd-william-atkinson-of.html" target="_blank">her brother William</a></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">My dear Girl<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">I recd: your affection letter by the Fly [a light type of coach], accompanied by Margaret's, with both of which I was very well pleased. I have since then had little to communicate and writing time is attended with great difficulty, as your Uncle now gets up as early as I do, he is very much amended since I wrote last, he eats very well and all his complaints diminish gradually, except his deafness, and that continues very much the same, he has walked in his Close almost every day but now that must be all over for a time as it is snowing very fast</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">She expected to be back in Wapping before long as she wasn't really needed in Stapleford any more. </div><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">Give my kind love to Mr: W[illiamson]: I am much obliged to him for his kind attention to me, and I shall always make it my study to make every thing as agreeable to you both as I possibly can, it is my constant wish that you should remain with me until Michaelmas at least, and in all that time we shall be able to make a more prudent arrangement, than we possibly could in this short time</blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm not sure if that means that she wants Elizabeth to delay getting married or that she would like the newly-weds to live with her till September. At any event, Elizabeth married Mr Williamson twelve days later in Wapping. One of the witnesses was her married sister Mary Richmond and another was either her mother Jane, or her sister Jane.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jane was now planning her own future. Elizabeth's younger sister Harriet was at Stapleford as her uncle William's housekeeper and Jane Galilee intended to move there herself. Her plans had taken a little careful management of her brother</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>I never mentioned the cottage to your uncle before yesterday, he said he never meant to let it until I could think of taking it, though it is a matter I often wished. I was very doubtful whether to take it or not when it came within my reach, I explained to him all my motives for taking it, without reserve and how I wished to live there, and I could find, that his wishes and views were widely different to mine. This was what I always expected, however I am quite decided to stick to my original plan, and he seemed very much pleased upon the whole, and I believe Harriet is the same.</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Harriet's situation was clearly an important consideration for Jane </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>I hope it should be a great relief to her, she is very much confined, and the rest of the people she does see can neither afford her much advantage or amusement, but we can talk all this over when we must, and I should [not] have mentioned [it] now, if I had not got this immense sheet of paper.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></blockquote><span style="white-space: pre;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A little maternal advice was now in order:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">It is gratifying to me to find that my dear Elizabeth is perfectly satisfied with the protection I have been able to afford her, and I will be equally candid in telling her, that I am thoroughly satisfied with the return she has made, I am proud to recollect some instances which placed her in a very amiable light, however I will not affect to misunderstand what you allude to, as I think it almost your only fault, to be rather hasty in your temper. It is therefore my duty to advise you to correct it. Your good sense will however point this out to you, as it sometimes happens that a few acrimonious words will disturb the harmony of my years. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">My dear Girl, if I thought you would be seriously hurt at what I have written I would blot it out, and I should not have so, if I did not think you alluded to it yourself, as it is a matter that never gave me any lasting pain, knowing as I did how good you were in essentials.</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She then goes on to give the news. They hadn't had so many visitors in the last two or three days. A Mr Pagett had gone to London, a Mr B. to Norfolk. The doctor hadn't come for a week and the judge was in Cambridge. Elizabeth's sister Harriet </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>has had several Fits this last week, I am much concerned for her</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">but that must have been something that Elizabeth knew all about, so Jane moved swiftly on to bonnets</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>I do not suppose I can do any thing for you or your Sister? Harriet called at Mrs Rawlings with Mrs Martindale, but there was not a single Bonnet to be seen. Mrs [illeg] says the straw is very cheap now, I had a mind to bring some home and get a Bonnet made in London.</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've made some guesses at some of last lines of the letter, which ends warm and affectionately:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><blockquote>I shall now conclude this unconnected Epistle, by desiring my dear Girl [should have] no scruple in expressing any wish that I can be ---ciable [?] in, as she may be assured that I will, now and ever, be proud and happy to do everything promote her comfort, and happiness</blockquote></div><div style="text-align: justify;">and Jane ends with her prayer for Elizabeth's married life</div><blockquote>that both parties may mutually concur in deserving, and enjoying, that happiness, which the good and virtuous can only know, shall be ever the prayer of your Affectionate Mother </blockquote><blockquote>Jane Galilee<br />My kindest Love to your Sisters</blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">Jane spent her last years in the cottage in Stapleford where she died on 19 December 1817 aged 66. She was buried at Whaddon, a few miles from Stapleford, because it was there that the graves of her parents and brother Isaac were to be found. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thomas Galilee and Jane Atkinson had 6 daughters who survived infancy:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ul><li>Mary Galilee (1778-1857)</li><ul><li>she was baptised at St Mary's, Rotherhithe on 26 August 1778</li><li>she married Sunderland-born George Richmond (1790-1862), master mariner and shipowner on 29 January 1807 at Wapping parish church. </li><li>by the time of the 1851 Census, she and husband and their daughter Jane were living in the Trinity Almshouse at Greenwich </li><li>Mary died in 1857 and George in 1862</li><li>Mary and George had two children:</li><ul><li>Jane Richmond (1812-1904) remained unmarried. The censuses find her living with one or more of her unmarried nieces in various parts of London</li><li>George Richmond (1817-85) was a journalist and editor of the <i>Sussex Express</i> and <i>Surrey Standard</i>.</li></ul></ul></ul>George lived in Lewes, Sussex for many years until his death. He and his wife Maria had 5 daughters and 3 sons. The report of his funeral in the <i>Hastings and St Leonards Observer</i> of 23 May 1885 said he was "the oldest Tory journalist in Sussex, and was the Editor of the <i>Sussex Express</i> before some of those writers who now call themselves middle-aged were born. He was known as a very consistent man, and one who always upheld the policy of Conservatism"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ul><li>Elizabeth Galilee (1780-1867) </li><ul><li>she was baptised on 22 March 1780 at Rotherhithe</li><li>she married William Williamson (1790-1832), master mariner, on 30 March 1808 in Rotherhithe</li><li>they had 3 children</li><ul><li>William Williamson (c1810-99)</li><li>Emma Williamson (1817-1901)</li><li>Harriet Williamson (1820-1903)</li></ul></ul></ul></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The story of the Williamsons is told in the earlier post, <i>The Revd William Atkinson of Kirkleatham & Cambridge (1755-1830)</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ul><li>Harriet Galilee (1782-1862) </li><ul><li>she was baptised 31 July 1782</li><li>she lived in Stapleford near Cambridge as her uncle William's housekeeper and afterwards with her unmarried sisters in Stapleford</li><li>she died on 22 May 1862 aged 80 and was buried at Whaddon with her mother, uncles and grandparents</li></ul></ul></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ul><li>Jane Galilee (1784-1856) </li><ul><li>she was baptised 4 April 1784</li><li>she was the second wife of George Langborne (1773-1832), master mariner, ship owner and ship builder of Whitby. They married on 3 October 1811 at Wapping and lived in Whitby</li><li>she and George had 7 daughters and 1 son:</li><ul><li>Jane Langborne (1812-58), b 15 Aug 1812, d 1 Feb 1858 </li><li>Nathaniel Langborne (1814-43) </li><li>Ann Langborne (1817-49), wife of John Buchannan (1810-91), solicitor. </li><li>Mary Eleanor Langborne (1819-84) </li><li>Harriet Langborne (1821-89) </li><li>Margaret Langborne (1825-1910) </li><li>Eliza Langborne (1826-66) </li><li>Georgiana Langborne (1829-1903) </li></ul></ul></ul></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For more on the Langborne family and Jane Galilee and the lives of her children see <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-family-of-nathaniel-langborne-1739.html" target="_blank">The family of Nathaniel Langborne (1739-1807), son of Michael & Eleanor Langborne</a> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ul><li>Margaret Galilee (c1785-1880)</li><ul><li>she was born c1785 (but I can't find her baptism)</li><li>she never married. She lived with her sisters Harriet & Henrietta in Stapleford and outlived them both, dying at the age of 94 on 17 August 1880. I think, from her grant of Probate, that her niece Jane Richmond lived with her in her last days. She is buried at Stapleford.</li></ul></ul></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ul><li>Henrietta Galilee 1787-1872)</li><ul><li>she was baptised 1 August 1787</li><li>she lived at Stapleford with her sisters until her death aged 84 on 17 February 1872 1872. She is buried at Stapleford</li></ul></ul></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg279K9vln9YTPe93Q5wpdyWZsB7jqWNWTcKQf56Ne3nsfp5N5S_UHyTE24mzpc8_nijhw9BKJSNm_glmIhM8dmiz9Hkx2mzflvCyrJMHKRqCYLQFNnvF8R723s8ZxHUDm_ApYZAZHFyNCIfnj7BV0KQ8dTXEwbHT0FJ3Eet8lTgo1tHQ1_a1BWN_nN=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg279K9vln9YTPe93Q5wpdyWZsB7jqWNWTcKQf56Ne3nsfp5N5S_UHyTE24mzpc8_nijhw9BKJSNm_glmIhM8dmiz9Hkx2mzflvCyrJMHKRqCYLQFNnvF8R723s8ZxHUDm_ApYZAZHFyNCIfnj7BV0KQ8dTXEwbHT0FJ3Eet8lTgo1tHQ1_a1BWN_nN=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Andrew's Stapleford, Cambs. CC BY-SA 2.0 <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:St_Andrew,_Stapleford,_Cambridgeshire_-_geograph.org.uk_-_334044.jpg" target="_blank">by John Salmon</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-11097206357798784352022-03-05T08:30:00.008+00:002022-03-15T16:44:09.334+00:00 Thomas Atkinson, surgeon (b1753) of Kirkleatham, Canada & Honduras Bay <p style="text-align: justify;"><i>This replaces a piece about Thomas Atkinson posted in November 2012. As it belongs with the preceding posts about the Atkinsons of Scaling Dam & Kirkleatham, I thought I'd publish it here too. </i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>With many thanks to Stella Sterry for her information</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas Atkinson, the writer of the <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/11/whaling-journal-of-thomas-atkinson-of.html" target="_blank">Whaling Journal of Thomas Atkinson of Kirkleatham, 1774</a> was a young man of 21 when he made the voyage to Davis Straits.</p><div><div style="text-align: justify;">He was born in the spring of 1753 in Kirkleatham, a North Yorkshire village a couple of miles from the mouth of the River Tees. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">His father <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/thomas-atkinson-1722-92-master-of-sir.html" target="_blank">Thomas</a> was Master at the Hospital founded in Kirkleatham in 1676 by Sir William Turner for the relief of ten "poor aged" men and women and the relief and upbringing of "ten poor boys and ten poor girls". </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The "poor boys" and "poor girls" usually entered the Hospital at the age of eight and left at sixteen. At this time most of the boys came from the North Riding, from Scarborough to Askrigg, but some came from much further afield – from Ticknall in Derbyshire, Bristol and Hertfordshire. They included the sons of a local clergyman, a Darlington bookseller and a Northallerton attorney, which must indicate that, in addition to the poor children, the school was taking paying scholars. This was usual in schools that began as charitable foundations. </div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thomas Atkinson's mother was Elizabeth Featherstone (c1720-1805). His parents were married in Westerdale in 1749, so Elizabeth may have been the Elizabeth, daughter of Peter Fetherstone, who was baptised in 1720 at Danby in Cleveland.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It seems very likely that Thomas Atkinson's sons were taught alongside the boys of the Hospital. Wherever they went to school, he and his brothers clearly received a good education; Thomas's second son William was to become a Doctor of Divinity and Fellow of Christ's College, Cambridge. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">The career chosen for young Thomas may have been influenced by the surgeon employed at the Hospital (at a salary of £50, compared to the £45 paid to the Master), but the Hospital was also in contact with the York Infirmary whose surgeons pronounced one boy's "scrofulous disorder" as incurable in 1773. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">In his mid-teens Thomas's parents sent him to Ripon to be apprenticed for 6 years to William Chambers of Ripon, described by Thomas's father in the family Bible as "an eminent Surgeon and Apothecary". Then on 27 February 1774 at the age of 21, he went to sea as a surgeon on the <i>Hope</i> of Whitby, on a whaling voyage to the Davies Straits.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkGvXZbRQsi5dzq2ml31XkiVrTp2BM8KXRhS0zKJRnyQ8Zre06CIVjyZWzlxAAeRqHgva1LRHoy9TXRjX-iqVMyUgHXZKh65YHZzq42tZzQ6fd-xeeqcp7NZnkNSGFtP7_YJgsES0NY3jFYyA8zjijrWZ1_mnbUUGiD5HCRXtfd7fTY5RWXZIYVghX=s1019" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="1019" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkGvXZbRQsi5dzq2ml31XkiVrTp2BM8KXRhS0zKJRnyQ8Zre06CIVjyZWzlxAAeRqHgva1LRHoy9TXRjX-iqVMyUgHXZKh65YHZzq42tZzQ6fd-xeeqcp7NZnkNSGFtP7_YJgsES0NY3jFYyA8zjijrWZ1_mnbUUGiD5HCRXtfd7fTY5RWXZIYVghX=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Whitby whalers in the Davies Straits (from Richard Weatherill's book)</span></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We don't know why he decided to make the trip. Perhaps it was a hankering for adventure; perhaps he wanted to find out how he would cope in harsh conditions. We don't know how he came to choose the Hope, but it's interesting to see that at this time one of the boys at the school was Thomas Peacock, son of the Revd John Peacock, curate of Stainton in Cleveland. Perhaps they had a family connection to Captain Robert Peacock of the <i>Hope</i>.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is clear from young Thomas Atkinson's journal that it wasn't the sea that took his interest, but the strange new lands he encountered and, above all, the Inuit. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So it isn't surprising to find that, the following year, his curiosity and love of adventure led him to work for the <a href="https://www.hbcheritage.ca/history/company-stories/a-brief-history-of-hbc " target="_blank">Hudson's Bay Company</a></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At the beginning of June 1775 he took up his post as a surgeon at Moose Fort (now <a href="http://www.hbcheritage.ca/places/forts-posts/staff-house-at-moose-factory" target="_blank">Moose Factory</a>), </div><div style="text-align: justify;">the Company's oldest settlement in Ontario, established in 1673 about 11 miles from the mouth of the Moose River on the shore of James Bay.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This was the home of the Cree and Anishinaabe peoples, but from the 17th century it was where the British and French fought over the fur trade. (For more, see <a href="https://blogs.bl.uk/americas/2020/07/tracing-the-history-of-northern-ontario-at-the-british-library.html " target="_blank">Tracing the History of Northern Ontario at the British Library by Shaelagh Cull</a>)</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In 1776 the Company was planning to establish a post on Lake Superior. So they sent out a party of 5 men – Thomas was one of them – with two Indian families and instructions to "Build a Halfway House". They set out on 16 October 1776 from Moose Fort and travelled about 200 miles by canoe along the Moose River, and by sledge, until on 11 December they reached "Wapuscogamee" Creek. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thomas chose a site for the Company's post – it was half a mile or so from the mouth of the creek, on the west bank of the Missinaibi River, which flows into the Moose River. On 14 December they began to build a log tent in which they were to spend the rest of the winter.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the spring came, they laid the foundation for the post and by early August 1777 Wapiscogamy House was ready for occupation. Thomas was in charge there until 31 May 1778.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2HQamAGW7qOZlebgvRXx3OpAM1E_FQX4XG4znSN0lHMHBjaPF3zrADuVBeJX__AWYeQhjPoCZR2JY4PKbPIYAZun_o_FLebQx1FQP0CbGEkbH2028MOVFzHRJnqs16Arxij3jA0GYCv7YDKZ9mc21d9US2CA2GoI10j6MucVuF6YWDhHzYd3UMRUO=s739" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="655" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2HQamAGW7qOZlebgvRXx3OpAM1E_FQX4XG4znSN0lHMHBjaPF3zrADuVBeJX__AWYeQhjPoCZR2JY4PKbPIYAZun_o_FLebQx1FQP0CbGEkbH2028MOVFzHRJnqs16Arxij3jA0GYCv7YDKZ9mc21d9US2CA2GoI10j6MucVuF6YWDhHzYd3UMRUO=s320" width="284" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Early C19: Trading at a Hudson's Bay Company Trading Post, by Harry Ogden</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I hope he was a good doctor, because he wasn't very good at choosing a place for a trading post, or at planning its building. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A report to <a href="http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/jarvis_edward_4E.html" target="_blank">Edward Jarvis</a>, chief at Moose Fort, in 1781 described a site vulnerable to attack with no way of seeing the attackers coming. There was a large creek within 200 yards of the back of the house and a ridge of high land within 100 yards, and at one end of the small, inconvenient house (it measured 26 feet by 18 feet) there wasn't a window or a port hole. </div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The foundations were laid direct on the ground, so it wasn't possible to dig a cellar without undermining either the chimney or the frame of the house. They couldn't find anywhere to keep the gunpowder except "directly under the fireplace" and the summer heat spoilt their "Salt Geese". Edward Jarvis decided it would be better to build a new post somewhere else.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">By this time, Thomas Atkinson had been moved on to Henley House, a transit post on the junction of the Albany and Kenogamy Rivers. He was Master there for 3 months from September to December 1779. Perhaps he was filling in for the arrival of another man because he dropped down to Assistant for the next few months. From June 1780 he was Assistant at Albany, the company fort on the James Bay, and then he left for home on the <i>Royal George</i> on 21 September 1781.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On 21 September 1788, when his father repaired the family Bible and recorded the most recent details of his children's lives, he wrote proudly that his eldest son had been "sometime Governor" of one of the Company Forts and was now "Surgeon at the English Settlement in Honduras Bay". </div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So Thomas, having experienced the extremes of heat and cold in Northern Ontario, had taken a post in Central America, where the British were cutting logwood and mahogany. There had been a British settlement in Belize for over a hundred years. </div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">An undated entry in the family Bible records that it was there that Thomas died. </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-22039174141149303632022-03-05T08:20:00.012+00:002022-06-18T19:22:06.576+01:00The Revd William Atkinson of Kirkleatham & Cambridge (1755-1830)<p style="text-align: justify;">This account of a quiet life is thanks to information from Stella Sterry, and to letters that were found years ago in a house clearance in Leeds. They seem to have survived by chance, possibly because of Mr John Gaskin, MBE, of Whitby. He was a significant figure in organisations in the town in the first half of the 20th century. He was very interested in local history and philately and for several decades was a solicitors' clerk with Messrs Buchannan and Son, and then with the successor firm Buchannan and White. However he came across the letters and whatever his reason – local history or the unusual postal markings – he kept the letters and they are now to be found at Northallerton Archives. I'm quoting below from a transcript and I have made some alterations for readability's sake.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">William Atkinson was born on 16 May 1755 at Kirkleatham, where his father <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/thomas-atkinson-1722-92-master-of-sir.html" target="_blank">Thomas Atkinson (1722-92)</a> was Master of Sir William Turner's Hospital. Perhaps he was named for his father's brother William, who died only two months later in the fever epidemic that swept through Scaling Dam.</p><div style="text-align: justify;">William's elder brother <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/11/more-about-thomas-atkinson-surgeon-of.html " target="_blank">Thomas</a> went out to look for adventure, and worked as a surgeon in Canada and Central America. His brother Daniel died in New York and his brother John on the coast of Africa. But William Atkinson was a studious young man. He became an academic and clergyman.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn59roJSPK-CU7gupeXtxxsnDYKXd5ISKTYBC9WeQAKsXyJwLgkelpGE9sPgRYeLPwovT4PFkeWEo76k_YmjbK7habTMZBnI8FhOcnA8ZfViWj_4hdODqoEI8-Ys-FbCuSIy_z81cSnMmkSEK-csbTGIoK6VBUrQcGktCokZQKbmuxYQ8851zlL9tO=s2359" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2359" data-original-width="1731" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn59roJSPK-CU7gupeXtxxsnDYKXd5ISKTYBC9WeQAKsXyJwLgkelpGE9sPgRYeLPwovT4PFkeWEo76k_YmjbK7habTMZBnI8FhOcnA8ZfViWj_4hdODqoEI8-Ys-FbCuSIy_z81cSnMmkSEK-csbTGIoK6VBUrQcGktCokZQKbmuxYQ8851zlL9tO=s320" width="235" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Bookplate of Revd William Atkinson</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">At the age of 21, on 10 October 1776, he was admitted to Catharine Hall, Cambridge as a sizar. At a <span style="text-align: left;">time when attending Oxford and Cambridge was only for the very well-to-do, this was how someone from a humbler background could go to one of the universities. Originally a sizar paid his way by doing fairly menial tasks; as the centuries went on colleges might offer small grants. But it was essentially for the poor and deserving, and it was a lowly social position.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">William matriculated in the Michaelmas term 1778. He was made a deacon in 1778 and priested in 1781. He took his B.A in 1781, his M.A in 1784, and his B.D in 1792. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">These were eventful times in the outside world. In 1783, King George III was forced to accept the loss of Britain’s American colonies. In January 1788, the first convict fleet arrived in Botany Bay carrying 1,480 men, women and children. The Greenland whale fishery was in full operation, with 21 vessels leaving Whitby that season. Across the Channel, France was in the grip of runaway inflation and ever increasing economic turmoil and on 14 July 1789 the storming of the Bastille would mark the beginning of events that would shake Europe. Meanwhile, back at home in North Yorkshire, Whitby was a major centre of shipbuilding, ranking third after London and Newcastle in the early 1790s. Along the coast and the escarpment of the Cleveland Hills, men were mining alum, a valuable commodity and vital to the textile and leather industries. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpCc1Tb87oJXcVbF2gtuFHwdiKXFSv8iaTVoTpggNoyt6gWmikCcFTs-bnKWufEJeflk7EpYtnOVXJaXGBjDBS2fOuUZwEpptZnpq12gwA2lcHoeA52gKyU4Y8hJwWnn23KO_pGhqNHS6dZP6pPAghe3iGwLHIkw6eJYrU7uKmeKHmnB_CwAa8jtI0=s1111" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="1111" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpCc1Tb87oJXcVbF2gtuFHwdiKXFSv8iaTVoTpggNoyt6gWmikCcFTs-bnKWufEJeflk7EpYtnOVXJaXGBjDBS2fOuUZwEpptZnpq12gwA2lcHoeA52gKyU4Y8hJwWnn23KO_pGhqNHS6dZP6pPAghe3iGwLHIkw6eJYrU7uKmeKHmnB_CwAa8jtI0=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Catharine's, Cambridge (called Catharine Hall until 1860)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Meanwhile, William was elected Fellow of Catharine Hall in 1781 and in 1807 he was a curate at Sawston, 7 miles south of Cambridge. But from 1790 William became involved in a feud among the Fellows. It lasted 20 years and involved petitions to the College Visitor, exchanges of acrimonious letters and finally a pamphlet war. William and his friends were pitted against Dr Procter, the Master of Catharine Hall, and his supporters. William's friend Dr Browne, Master of Christ's College, was also involved. In 1808 William left Catharine Hall. </div><p style="text-align: justify;">Then on 2 July 1808 William was elected Fellow of Christ's; it was the first election in the time of his friend Dr Browne's Mastership. It is all very convoluted. William Jones, in his <i>A History of St Catharine's College, Cambridge</i> (CUP 1936) comments that </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">One finds it difficult not to suspect that much of this feud was due to sheer idleness. The Fellows at St Catharine's at this period were not busy with research. They had no undergraduates, or practically none, to teach. Unmarried, they had no home interests. Satan, indeed, found work for idle hands to do</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">At the time of the feud, William wasn't living in College. By 1788, he was living in the village of Whaddon, a dozen miles south-west of Cambridge. By 1806 he had moved to Stapleford, about 5 miles south of Cambridge. There <a href="https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/cambs/vol8/pp227-238" target="_blank">he lived at the Grove</a> at the fork in the road near Sawston Bridge.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB05Jvz060RQezS50JmUoQa8Cxb_6IkvFDURIsLOaFwhPeINDvHnJ0MXL3Kkfa-9_St3G6iKyACMZGm8UacmELceaLB8WsrfcldBGoM9GNaAF8Wwg4I6nmzknrUu2DOWMuK_gz2NrMFPJc-L2FU7IWVBWcsjT6uNUlmjdXVuZGoxh4hVtImCB8Z0oL=s818" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="818" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiB05Jvz060RQezS50JmUoQa8Cxb_6IkvFDURIsLOaFwhPeINDvHnJ0MXL3Kkfa-9_St3G6iKyACMZGm8UacmELceaLB8WsrfcldBGoM9GNaAF8Wwg4I6nmzknrUu2DOWMuK_gz2NrMFPJc-L2FU7IWVBWcsjT6uNUlmjdXVuZGoxh4hVtImCB8Z0oL=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">1888-1913 O.S. Stapleford <br />CC-BY-NC-SA National Library of Scotland</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Apart from being Mildmay Preacher between 1816 and 1818, Christ's has no record of him holding a College office, or a benefice, or being resident in College, though he never missed a meeting until his last five years. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgE7MVT7TaKMmsL0R9OOd-RasfmiN-qPVWxamTs__bxnVoVonRR0cfvBoAjVkpGcmbJ_ZCpHCc4jGZYfef6MlImbXJQnTgeeCpqmqfgncD0PvfedJrZyjgeaSSIgjjHc_dWvZvgBhzN8tPVS5yMCp5Pov3ZhpsGQI2KMALKDGqbTBcY-GopqrjzVf_S=s991" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="731" data-original-width="991" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgE7MVT7TaKMmsL0R9OOd-RasfmiN-qPVWxamTs__bxnVoVonRR0cfvBoAjVkpGcmbJ_ZCpHCc4jGZYfef6MlImbXJQnTgeeCpqmqfgncD0PvfedJrZyjgeaSSIgjjHc_dWvZvgBhzN8tPVS5yMCp5Pov3ZhpsGQI2KMALKDGqbTBcY-GopqrjzVf_S=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Christ's College, Cambridge: Fellows' Garden, showing rear of Fellows' Building</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">How did he spend his time (apart from taking part in the College feud)? He must have lectured, perhaps he had pupils and he seems, on occasion at least, to have taken duty for another clergyman. He certainly farmed. He had his library, which was a typical middle-class collection judging by the inscribed volumes that have passed down through the years – and Jane Austen would have been pleased to see that he didn't disdain novels. He had Samuel Richardson's Sir Charles Grandison. We can imagine him working away at the system of shorthand that he invented. It was a quiet life.</p><span></span><span><a name='more'></a></span><p style="text-align: justify;">By chance, the letters that I mentioned before show us that, whatever his behaviour had been at Catharine Hall, he was valued at home. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">On 15 August 1795 – when Britain was at war with France – William wrote from Whaddon to his 14 year old niece Elizabeth Galilee ("Bessy"). She was the daughter of <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/jane-atkinson-of-kirkleatham-1751-1817.html" target="_blank">his sister Jane</a> and had been staying at Whaddon with her uncle and grandmother. Now she was home in the maritime village of Wapping on the great bend of the Thames beyond the Tower of London. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Bessy must have been an intelligent girl and William must have been a man who believed in girls' education and didn't have hidebound views on what they should be taught. The final words of his letter are "I hope you get a minute now and then for a bit of Latin." Her teacher must have been William himself, and he clearly didn't agree with the widespread belief that Latin was a subject fit only for boys.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's an affectionate, humorous letter with quips about her youngest sister Henrietta ("Henny"), who was now at Whaddon. Henny was aged about 8 and had clearly settled in: </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>her tongue did not begin to stir till the day following [her arrival]. Since then it has been in almost perpetual motion from seven o' Clock in the morning until about ten at night. Her face is now quite well and she looks infinitely better than at her first coming. She entered at our great School last Monday, and what ever good it may do to Henny it certainly will bring some honour and glory to Mrs Giffen and her Pupils … Betsy Beaumont, Betsy King and Henny have formed a kind of Play Club and go round to one another's alternately. </blockquote><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The girls' father was a sea captain and their mother had recently set up business a China and Slop-Seller from their home at Number 168 Wapping High Street. Slops means sailors' clothing – as this was a time when the Navy and Merchant Marine were vastly expanded because of the war with France, Mrs Galilee might well hope for good trade. Elizabeth was evidently helping out</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I am glad to hear so good an account of your House, Shop etc and more so that the Business is likely to answer. I hope you attend to the article of Account keeping as exactness in that particular is one the greatest securities and satisfactions in any way of life but is particularly useful and necessary in Trade.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">It seems William was taking services at nearby Foxton:</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I hope to be able to spend a week or two with you before the end of the Summer, but having the care of Foxton I am uncertain when I shall be at liberty but hope to be so the beginning of next month.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">He had his concerns about his health</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">Since the weather grew warm so that I could go into the Bath, my eyes have been quite stout and comfortable and I have great hopes that I may not have any more relapses. The few dry, hot days we had lately tempted the Farmers to begin cutting their Corn, but the return of our old wet season will I fear make bad work with them.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">and here we glimpse the social life of the neighbourhood – the Scrubys lived at Malton Farm</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I yesterday drank tea at Mrs Meads and in the evening I squired Miss to Malton to see Miss Scruby, but as usual she was gone from home and we had the pleasure of wading through the deep wet grass for nothing. </blockquote><p></p><p>He gave Elizabeth an account of his cows</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">Our Creatures have lately given us a deal of trouble. Cherry ran over the Cow-boy and stood [?] upon his face, which made a very bad wound and he is now under the hands of Mr Barron. Since that I have got Stephen Gliffens [Glissens?] Wife's Sister to take them, and they do very well in deed with her. Old Jack has got a bad Spasm and is mostly quite lame. I have sold Monmouth and Pembroke to Mr Barton and very glad I was to get rid of them</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Elizabeth must have been following the unfolding saga of a Mrs A. who had applied to her uncle for help. It seems people turned to William for help and advice.</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I have had another very disagreeable letter from Mrs A. She says they are quite destitute, which I doubt not is too true, but it is not possible for me to under take to support them. Her Husband informs me that to complete his fortune, he has now got a severe fit of the Gout.</blockquote><p></p><p>He ends his letter with a postscript</p><div style="text-align: left;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;">Yr Grandmother joins in love to you all with, Dear Bessy, your affectionate Uncle<br />W A Atkinson </div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;">P.S. Henny desired me to tell you that she got a Sampler.<br />I hope you get a minute now and then for a bit of Latin. </div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The next letter was written 13 years later and it was also sent to Elizabeth Galilee but this time it was from her widowed mother. William had left Catharine Hall and was now living at Stapleford and Jane Galilee had gone there to look after him. It's no surprise – after all the difficulties and problems with the college feud – that he had not been well and had needed care. But he was on the mend. On 18 March 1808, Mrs Galilee wrote to her daughter</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">your Uncle now gets up as early as I do, he is very much amended since I wrote last, he eats very well and all his complaints diminish gradually, except his deafness, and that continues very much the same, he has walked in his Close almost every day but now that must be all over for a time as it is snowing very fast</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">So Mrs Galilee felt that her work was done, which was fortunate as she expected to be needed at home before long</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I dare say your Uncle will be sorry to part with me, but as I am of very little use, it would be the same a month hence, so that you need not be uneasy at my coming home, only let me know a few days beforehand, that it may not surpize him</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">It seems William, now an old bachelor of 53, needed a little management by the women. Jane had persuaded him that she could take a cottage which he had thought of renting out. It would be a support to her 26 year old daughter Harriet, who acted as William's housekeeper </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">I hope it should be a great relief to her, she is very much confined, and the rest of the people she does see, can neither afford her much advantage or amusement</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">And besides, Harriet "has had several Fits this last week, I am much concerned for her"</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Jane Galilee lived out her days in the cottage in Stapleford, dying on 19 December 1817 aged 66. She was buried at Whaddon with her parents and brother Isaac.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The next letter was written two years after Mrs Jane Galilee's death, and four years after the end of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. It is again addressed to Elizabeth, who has by this time been married to William Williamson, a master mariner, for 11 years. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Williamsons lived at Trafalgar Square in Stepney with their 9 year old son William and little Emma, who wasn't yet two. It now looked possible that William Williamson would take up a new line of work in Falmouth and Elizabeth had turned to her 64 year old uncle William for advice.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">She sent him a parcel of tea – a welcome luxury – and she asked what he thought of the project and his opinion on her plan to place little William in a boarding school before the move to Falmouth.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">William replied on 18 March 1819. It shows much thought and a great deal of care for the little boy: </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">Along with the Tea I received your kind Letter, and have thought much and seriously upon the Contents of it.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I do not wonder at Mr Williamson's wishing to quit a Line of Life which is attended with much Fatigue and Danger to himself and with great and incessant Anxiety to you both, and if he have a fair Prospect of succeeding in the Business at Falmouth I think it is Adviseable to make the Trial</p><p style="text-align: justify;">He is, I suppose, by this Time returned from that Place, and from the Enquiries he would make upon the Spot, he will be able, with the Knowledge he has of the Nature of the Business, to determine with a great Degree of Certainty whether it would be chiefly to afford him a comfortable Livelihood. It is to be sure, a very unpleasant Circumstance to be removed to such a distance from your Friends, but this is one of the unavoidable toils of Life, and for the Sake of avoiding still greater Evils, it must be submitted to with Patience and Resignation. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">On the other point on which you request my Opinion and Advice – I could make up my Mind without any Hesitation. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">If Mr W finally determines to remove to Falmouth it appears to me to admit of no Doubt whatever that you should take William along with you. It is undoubtedly, a very great Consideration to be able to place him at a School where he is kindly treated and properly instructed, and such that seem to be where he is at present; but there must be plenty of Schools in so large a place as Falmouth, and it will be hard indeed if there be not some one among them whence that great Point may be so far secured as to make it necessary to leave a Boy of his Age amongst Strangers and at the Distance of I suppose 150 Miles. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Harriet quite concurs with me in Opinion upon this Point, and, I own, I am surprised that the idea of leaving him behind you should ever have occurred to you </p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">There was still some uncertainty as to whether Mr Williamson would go ahead with the plan so, wrote William </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">it would be useless to enter further into the Subject at present, but we shall be very anxious to hear whether Mr W visit to Falmouth has induced him to persevere or not. Harriet joins in love to yourself and Mr W and the children, with, my dear Elizabeth, your very affectionately</p><p style="text-align: justify;">W Atkinson</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">It seems the Williamsons didn't move after all. Their third child Harriet was born in Stepney in 1820 and by 1828 they were living in South Town near Yarmouth, where William died on 9 August 1832 aged 52. Elizabeth and the children, now aged between 12 and 23, went back to Whitby, where she had numerous family – Galilee, Chilton and Weatherill cousins at Hinderwell, Staithes and Whitby and her sister Jane, newly widowed. Jane had lived in Whitby since her marriage to the master mariner and shipbuilder George Langborne. He had died in June, leaving her with one son and seven daughters aged between 3 and 20. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Young William Williamson prospered as a chemist in Whitby. He and his sisters never married – in fact, only one of their Langborne cousins married. The Williamsons lived together on Baxtergate until they moved to 8 Park Terrace in the 1850s. There their mother died on 6 March 1867 aged 86, and was buried at Sleights. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">William died in 1899 at the age of 89, leaving a considerable estate. The <i>Whitby Gazette</i> of 24 March 1899 reported that </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>He was reputed to be one of the best amateur pedestrians of his time, and he is said to have walked to divine service to churches as far as twenty miles distant on a Sunday morning, and to have returned home on foot. </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">and he was still active into very old age. He was one of the oldest inhabitants of Whitby.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>The deceased gentleman was of a kind and benevolent disposition and had very courteous manners, and by his death a very old standard in this locality ceases to be.</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Emma was killed in a dreadful railway accident at Sleights station on 1 August 1901 at the age of 84. Harriet died in 1903 aged 83. They were a long-lived family – Emma and Harriet outlived Queen Victoria.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The third letter dates from 1830. William was now 75 and nearing the end of his life. This letter was written by his nephew Thomas, son of his late brother Daniel. It seems that Thomas had got into difficulties – I think he had been arrested for debt. He wrote from Liverpool on 20 February 1830 shortly before sailing, as he explains, for New York on the packet ship Manchester, registered at 560 tons and under the command of Captain Sketchley.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Three days earlier William had sent him a half £10 note. It appears he had freed his nephew from debtors' prison and given him enough to make a start on a new life. The young man is quite overcome with relief and delight.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote>Most Revd Father</blockquote><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Thomas began,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">… I have not words to express my Joy and thankfulness any better, than by saying that your beneficent Goodness as far – far exceeded my expectations. I want now nothing</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;">William had given him "liberty and Independence". He promised to use economy and to give his uncle true satisfaction by his Christian conduct through Life. </div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">… may the blessing of the awfull Power of Powers [reward?] you, is the devout and fervent Prayer<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">of your Young and</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Cheerfull Nephew<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Thos Atkinson<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">P.S. I shall always think of Goldsmiths clergyman in the Deserted Village / allow me to say, you are the very Gentleman, and the [names?] of Marske Hall and Kirkleatham shall be ever near and dear to me<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Bless you – I am sure to prosper – </div></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"></div></div><p style="text-align: justify;">It is not known what became of him. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">William died at Stapleford on 28 May 1830 at the age of 75, and was buried at Whaddon. I wonder if they were able to send Thomas the gold watch which William had left him in his Will, together with his share of William's estate. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdjYEB6OBrrpZwfAEKryuhb1fd3SpHxD0vHvMn06Sir7haANqHD33n4MpGXV84rq-ecaTjTxZ5WQh_t_fpKJ8SKNhfSTYltEdJpU8tj5lAN3EuOCfl7A-2t-NhOJZav6_aLuDEPhc1r5e6lC62F9B4-RMesBlIe3z6nZwe0Vt7cVBuTOa_IDizOEuy=s974" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="974" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdjYEB6OBrrpZwfAEKryuhb1fd3SpHxD0vHvMn06Sir7haANqHD33n4MpGXV84rq-ecaTjTxZ5WQh_t_fpKJ8SKNhfSTYltEdJpU8tj5lAN3EuOCfl7A-2t-NhOJZav6_aLuDEPhc1r5e6lC62F9B4-RMesBlIe3z6nZwe0Vt7cVBuTOa_IDizOEuy=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Mary's, Whaddon, Cambs. <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Whaddon,_Cambridgeshire#/media/File:St_Mary's_Church,_Whaddon_-_geograph.org.uk_-_344165.jpg" target="_blank">by Alan Kent</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">He had made his Will in July 1828. We can see from its provisions that he had lived at Stapleford in some comfort, had owned property there and made an income from farming. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">He left a legacy to his longtime servant Thomas Freeman (for his "honesty sobriety and faithful discharge of his duty") and he divided his estate between the children of his brother Daniel and his sister Jane: Jane Galilee's six daughters and Daniel's children Thomas, William and Mary, who had married a Mr Thompson. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">His executors were his niece Harriet Galilee, who had been his housekeeper, and his niece Elizabeth's husband William Williamson of South Town near Yarmouth, Norfolk.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">He left a series of bequests – they are rather revealing of his character and his life.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It seems a pity that we will never know why Miss Isabella Cox was chosen to receive his copy of <i>Letters on the Improvement of the Mind, addressed to a Young Lady</i>, nor why Miss Hassett was left the recently published <i>Moral Inquiries on the Situation of Man and of Brutes</i> by the animal rights campaigner Lewis Gompertz.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">He hopes to induce Christ's College to take his treatise on shorthand by leaving them his 5 volume edition of Chambers' Dictionary </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;">To the Master and Fellows of Christ College I give my splendid edition of Chambers' Dictionary for the use of the College Library as a mark of my respect and esteem for the Members of that liberal and flourishing Society by which I have had the Honour and Happiness to be adopted </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I will also beg of the Master and Fellows of Christ College to permit a small Original Manuscript Essay of mine on Short Hand to be placed in the College Library by the side of the two Treatises which it already contains on that subject </p><p style="text-align: justify;">This request is not made from any vain opinion on the Merits of the Essay itself but for the sake of a most ingenious System of Short hand (infinitely superior to any that has yet been published) which was the main object of that essay to describe and explain and of which (as no other account of it whatever exists) the very Memorial without this Security for the preservation of it will probably soon be lost</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;">He left a series of thoughtful bequests:</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><ul><li>To my Nephew Thomas Atkinson I give my Gold Watch with the Gold Chain Seals and Key attached to it</li><li>And to my Nephew William Atkinson I give my Metal Watch and Chain and also a large Seal of Arms engraved on a Scotch pebble rimmed with Gold</li><li>To the Revd John Cox I give Mr White Sermons preached before the University of Oxford</li><li>To Master Thomas Kent I give my Glasgow edition of Virgil</li><li style="text-align: left;">To Miss Isabella Cox I give <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hester_Chapone " target="_blank">Mrs Chapone's</a> Letters</li><li style="text-align: left;">To Miss Hassett I give Gompertz Moral Enquiries</li><li style="text-align: left;">To my old and highly valued friend Dr Browne Vicar of Gorleston I desire a Mourning Ring may be given and also that he will accept of my Miniature Picture of our late excellent friend Mr Hunter of Christ College</li><li style="text-align: left;">I will also that Mourning Rings be given to the Reverend Thomas Cawtley to the Reverend Townley Clarkson also to my Niece Harriet Galilee and to Mr William Williamson</li></ul><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I think the Revd Thomas Cawtley is probably Thomas Cautley of Jesus College, Perpetual Curate of St Clement's, Cambridge. And the Revd Townley Clarkson was probably the Townley Clarkson who was Fellow and Bursar of Jesus College at the beginning of the century; he died in 1833.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">His "old and highly valued friend Dr Browne Vicar of Gorleston" was the very same Dr Thomas Browne of Christ's College who had been involved with William in the College feud. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Browne has been described as a man of a somewhat complex character. It's said that as a young man he was particularly agreeable and prepossessing and he appeared to be good at business matters when he was Master of Christ's, but things went somewhat downhill when he was discovered to be living an "immoral" life with a servant girl. The Fellows, alarmed, found out that he owed the College £1,200 or more and he had to be removed from the Mastership. He certainly seemed to end up involved in controversies. He left in 1814 for the Rectory of Gorleston, a village about two miles from Great Yarmouth. According to Pigot's Directory of Norfolk 1839, the church of St Andrew was a "spacious pile with a <i>thatched</i> roof". He was given the living through his <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Browne_(Master_of_Christ%27s_College,_Cambridge)" target="_blank">marriage to Lucy Astley</a>. Dr Browne was 10 years younger than William Atkinson and died in 1832 aged 67.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-73060488361028836652022-03-05T08:10:00.023+00:002022-03-15T16:39:39.020+00:00Thomas Atkinson (1722-92), Master of Sir William Turner's Hospital, Kirkleatham<p><i>This follows on from the preceding post, <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-atkinsons-of-scaling-dam-in-17th.html" target="_blank">The Atkinsons of Scaling Dam in the 17th & 18th centuries</a></i></p><p>Thomas Atkinson was born on Friday 13 April 1722, between 9 and 10 o'clock at Night.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">We don't know where he was educated – perhaps in one of the Whitby schools – but he clearly was something of a mathematician (for example, his answer to a problem was printed in <i style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=x8cDAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA703&dq=atkinson+kirkleatham&hl=en&sa=X&ei=gf97Ua2oJsn20gXJuoGgDg&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q=atkinson%20kirkleatham&f=false">Miscellaneous Correspondence, in Prose and Verse</a> </i>Volume 4, 1764).</p><p style="text-align: justify;">He married Elizabeth Featherstone (c1720-1805) on 21 September 1749 in Westerdale. Elizabeth may have been the daughter of Peter Fetherstone, who was baptised on 2 February 1720 at Danby in Cleveland.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On 9 May 1751, when Thomas was 29, he took up the post of Master of the Blue Coat Boys at the Turner Hospital at Kirkleatham. When he and his family moved into the master's house, the Hospital – which consisted of almshouses, boys' and girls' schools and a chapel – had only recently been extended and remodelled by Sir William's great-nephew Cholmley Turner. Thomas must have been very pleased with his new situation. He and his family stayed there for nearly 25 years. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjboGJrgVRq3Xl-G83E45mCrRlJJtWZD_uI65VjJvYOSWCTnYz1MMbJloKHWZyDQ2vkp1rtV0tG56ZV6KeWakpoDVdOjM-_SqgPUwNin3tGyU08xgAoFiuXgXAavyBb_wz4viclmKCEXNyRQLAM6OVr8o_k0dM6nBqL1__zHaKc0aRiOPC23KVDEpg_=s840" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjboGJrgVRq3Xl-G83E45mCrRlJJtWZD_uI65VjJvYOSWCTnYz1MMbJloKHWZyDQ2vkp1rtV0tG56ZV6KeWakpoDVdOjM-_SqgPUwNin3tGyU08xgAoFiuXgXAavyBb_wz4viclmKCEXNyRQLAM6OVr8o_k0dM6nBqL1__zHaKc0aRiOPC23KVDEpg_=s320" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sir William Turner's Almshouses <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sir_William_Turner%27s_Almshouses_-_geograph.org.uk_-_894877.jpg " target="_blank">by Mick Garrett</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">He was clearly an able and meticulous man, and in 1774 he drew up a map of the parish and manor of Kirkleatham for his employer. So perhaps when he left Kirkleatham a year later at the age of 53, and went to Marske Hall on the Cleveland coast, it might have been to become steward for <a href="https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/yorks/north/vol2/pp399-405#anchorn90" target="_blank">Lawrence Dundas</a>. Dundas was an ambitious and forceful Scottish businessman and politician who had bought the Marske Hall estate a dozen years earlier, at about the same time as he bought the Aske estate in Richmondshire. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">By 1788, Thomas was in retirement and he and his wife Elizabeth were with their son William in Whaddon in Cambridgeshire. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">He now had time to repair the family Bible that had been spoilt and defaced after his father's death in 1755, when it had been </p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">clandestinely taken away from my Mother, by one Hudson who had not the least Right or Pretention of Right to it; after having kept it several Years in his Possession, I obliged him to return it; but it was in such bad Condition by his writing his own Name a vast Number of times, and a Repetition of the Names of his Children and many Sentences too ridiculous to be seen in a Book of this Sort; I thought proper to cut out the Pages he had so Contaminated and to introduce several Leaves of fresh Paper in their Stead; whereas I shall transcribe such Particulars as my Father thought fit to leave on Record in this Book relating to our Family; and do hereby earnestly recommend this Book to the Care of my Children, that they never suffer it to go out of the Family for the future.<span style="text-align: left;"> </span></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6gJrhw_P-IjuF0tFpUOH83wYn-4nRiXDwNa-a0z-qC5fm---QFeb8IMsKreLYMRBOKLEW1ToIoOHklYwyUFMT1d3gDuJQZmGunkorS9bxjIaxFMCfIpgNyChUz2Lpgr9jGFi1WLRPj0_JjfwYB1eb5g8s69GOVno6CmqLxogbRSbYk_3PjD39uH3o=s2960" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2960" data-original-width="2406" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6gJrhw_P-IjuF0tFpUOH83wYn-4nRiXDwNa-a0z-qC5fm---QFeb8IMsKreLYMRBOKLEW1ToIoOHklYwyUFMT1d3gDuJQZmGunkorS9bxjIaxFMCfIpgNyChUz2Lpgr9jGFi1WLRPj0_JjfwYB1eb5g8s69GOVno6CmqLxogbRSbYk_3PjD39uH3o=s320" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Example of Thomas Atkinson's repair to the family Bible</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Thomas Atkinson and Elizabeth Featherstone had 6 sons and 2 daughters:</p><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Jane Atkinson, born 9 March 1751</li><ul><li>on 4 June 1775 at Rotherhithe, she married Captain Thomas Galilee (1744-97) (for more on his family see <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2013/05/captain-thomas-galilee-1744-97-and-his.html" target="_blank">here</a>) </li><li>they had 6 daughters who survived infancy: Mary, Elizabeth, Margaret, Jane, Harriet & Henrietta</li><li>Jane died on 19 December 1817 aged 66 and was buried at Whaddon, Cambridgeshire</li><li>for more on Jane and her daughters see later post, <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/jane-atkinson-of-kirkleatham-1751-1817.html" target="_blank"><i>Jane Atkinson of Kirkleatham (1751-1817), wife of Captain Thomas Galilee</i></a></li></ul></ul></div><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Thomas Atkinson, born 16 April 1753</li><ul><li>trained as a surgeon, worked for the Hudson's Bay Company in Canada and as surgeon at the British Settlement in Honduras Bay, where he died </li><li>for more on Thomas's life see later post, <i><a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/thomas-atkinson-surgeon-b1753-of.html" target="_blank">Thomas Atkinson, surgeon (b1753) of Kirkleatham, Canada & Honduras Bay</a></i></li></ul></ul></div><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>William Atkinson, born 16th May 1755</li><ul><li>academic and clergyman</li><li>he died at Stapleford near Cambridge on 28 May 1830 aged 75 and was buried at Whaddon, Cambridgeshire</li><li>for more on William Atkinson's life see later post,<i> <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-revd-william-atkinson-of.html" target="_blank">The Revd William Atkinson of Kirkleatham & Cambridge (1755-1830)</a></i></li></ul></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Isaac Atkinson, born 5 March 1757</li><ul><li>was a London wholesale linen draper with premises in Cheapside, while living out of town in the country air of the parish of St Mary, Islington</li><li>he died aged 46 on 6 July 1803 and was buried with his father at Whaddon on 13 July 1803</li></ul></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Daniel Atkinson, born 7 February 1759</li><ul><li>he is known to have married and had 3 children, because they are mentioned in his brother William's Will, made in 1828:</li><ul><li>Thomas (a letter from Thomas to his uncle William survives, see later post,<i> <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-revd-william-atkinson-of.html" target="_blank">The Revd William Atkinson of Kirkleatham & Cambridge (1755-1830)</a> </i>. He went to New York in 1830 and it is not known what became of him</li><li>William </li><li>Mary, who married a Mr Thompson</li></ul><li>An undated entry in the family Bible says that Daniel himself "Died at New York"</li></ul></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>John Atkinson, born 12 February 1761</li><ul><li>an undated entry in the family Bible says that John died on the coast of Africa</li></ul></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Robert Atkinson, born 8 February 1763</li><ul><li>he died in infancy and was buried on 14 June 1765 in Kirkleatham</li></ul></ul><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Elizabeth Atkinson, born 18 February 1764</li><ul><li>she was baptised on 29 Feb 1764 and died 3 days later. Buried at Kirkleatham</li></ul></ul></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas Atkinson died on 1 February 1792 at the age of 70. A note in the burial register records that he was "late of Marsk near Gisborough N Riding Yorks died at the Vicarage house at Whaddon Feb 1"</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas's son William wasn't the vicar of Whaddon, so that wasn't why Thomas was living in the vicarage house. William isn't recorded as having held any benefice, and I think a Revd Thomas Wilson was vicar at the time. According to the <a href="https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/cambs/vol8/pp142-151" target="_blank">Victoria County History</a> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">In the 1790s the vicar had only a room in an old cottage, probably the old vicarage, which was enlarged in the early 19th century, and again c1877 </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Robert Hurlock, who succeeded Mr Wilson and was vicar from 1797 to 1852, also held Shepreth. It must have been more comfortable at Shepreth before the Whaddon vicarage was enlarged, because by 1807 he was recorded as living at Whaddon. So perhaps Thomas and Elizabeth were renting the old cottage that had been the old vicarage.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-mjnzRN9znbdQvLf-RFiX3GIQC47TbnWhIHvH3-h5n2n7C6IMdGopChO7CFg9_bqL6wj-WKCDOHM8mpYg39iDK7fx9O4FI3KYkTDzPAZwrieQe8VwqD7TT3MzR2GKWRCqPHHXEwR8Bm0y4Scd46g1FYvjkiM6I-_XmxTjS_5ABUl5Dyuzjp51nPHP=s974" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="974" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-mjnzRN9znbdQvLf-RFiX3GIQC47TbnWhIHvH3-h5n2n7C6IMdGopChO7CFg9_bqL6wj-WKCDOHM8mpYg39iDK7fx9O4FI3KYkTDzPAZwrieQe8VwqD7TT3MzR2GKWRCqPHHXEwR8Bm0y4Scd46g1FYvjkiM6I-_XmxTjS_5ABUl5Dyuzjp51nPHP=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Mary's Whaddon, Cambs </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">by <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Whaddon,_Cambridgeshire#/media/File:St_Mary's_Church,_Whaddon_-_geograph.org.uk_-_344165.jpg" target="_blank">Alan Kent</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Elizabeth survived him by 7 years. She carried on living with her son William at Whaddon and it was there that she died on 19 November 1805 aged 85. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas and Elizabeth were both buried at Whaddon. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Elizabeth had also outlived her son Isaac, who died aged 46 in 1803. Though he lived in the parish of St Mary Islington, he was buried with his father at Whaddon on 13 July 1803. Whaddon was to become the place of burial for all of the family who lived in Cambridgeshire: Thomas and Elizabeth, their children Isaac, William and Jane, and their granddaughter Harriet.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">When Stella Sterry visited Whaddon in 1970, she was able to read the inscriptions on the gravestones of Thomas, Isaac, Elizabeth, Jane and Harriet. William's gravestone, with its Latin inscription, was not very legible. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdz0gPA4-uzVLTRo8qI2n7wx10eN1ycHlEKGvVTlvsWUWFnreZM4iEeVIPf93kAq50xoHa9CAsOJUiGVl5ArMdMIZKq2K-TfKkXKUZ1Ckj5gKJqEkuQ2I6VmERbSOyHEioP1w9pplYWE6G5y3R7yFrL73XelhNT18M3vR61QeKz3_5t-93hkfn4cSk=s672" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="672" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdz0gPA4-uzVLTRo8qI2n7wx10eN1ycHlEKGvVTlvsWUWFnreZM4iEeVIPf93kAq50xoHa9CAsOJUiGVl5ArMdMIZKq2K-TfKkXKUZ1Ckj5gKJqEkuQ2I6VmERbSOyHEioP1w9pplYWE6G5y3R7yFrL73XelhNT18M3vR61QeKz3_5t-93hkfn4cSk=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Excerpt from insert in Atkinson Bible</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-71000905189117152732022-03-05T08:00:00.009+00:002022-03-15T16:34:13.931+00:00The Atkinsons of Scaling Dam in the 17th & 18th centuries<p style="text-align: justify;">This is the sort of thing that one always hopes for – in 2013 I posted the Whaling Journal 1774 of Thomas Atkinson of Kirkleatham and articles about the Atkinson family of Scaling Dam. And recently I was contacted by Stella Richmond Sterry, a descendant of Thomas's sister Jane Galilee (as I am myself) – but she has the family Bible!</p><p style="text-align: justify;">And so, armed with all that lovely information, I've been able to do more research on the family. I hope it's (a) of interest and (b) of use to people who are trying to disentangle their own Cleveland Atkinsons. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">An extra bonus for me is that I get to go back again to the Civil Wars, which I left reluctantly after finishing work on <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2021/05/alice-wandesford-in-wars-of-three.html" target="_blank">Alice Wandesford in the Wars of the Three Kingdoms</a> </p><p style="text-align: center;">………</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The young Thomas Atkinson who took the whaling voyage in 1774 (you can find it <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/11/whaling-journal-of-thomas-atkinson-of.html" target="_blank">here</a>) was the eldest son of <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/thomas-atkinson-1722-92-master-of-sir.html" target="_blank">Thomas Atkinson (1722-92)</a>, Master of Sir William Turner's Hospital at Kirkleatham.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In 1788, towards the end of his life, Thomas Atkinson senior repaired his father's family Bible, which had been damaged after his father's death in 1755. And in it, very wisely, he left a written record which he entitled "From Oral Tradition". He began with the story of his great-grandfather Atkinson, who was a soldier in the Parliamentarian Army during the Civil Wars – the Wars of the Three Kingdoms – and who lived afterwards at Scaling Dam.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Scaling Dam was (and is) a hamlet more or less half way along the moors road between Guisborough and Whitby. Then, the North Riding of Yorkshire was thinly populated and the moors were wide and empty. The antiquarian Ralph Thoresby, F.R.S., (1658-1725) took the moors road in November 1682 and didn't like it at all, <a href="https://www.thoresby.org.uk/content/diary/1682.php" target="_blank">recording in his diary</a> that he travelled "over the rotten Moors for many miles without anything observable."</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJNEKvajqU1trzg-LFtmwe0Z9tsrU3HdMYoiYAKRImkcE-2w_IWufU4gzsCNeGVGUUuHWlIDsQw9j_J1zjuQCayiwL0Pehu9u_n5gFrYz3zxtNnHBGaQm_SZE-N4qpdfO6v7AGn-bGXnsguzjD_-hlub85GyQXr2ZUhgZ2u61p9lY8Qd3oPXOvwl4f=s760" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="760" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJNEKvajqU1trzg-LFtmwe0Z9tsrU3HdMYoiYAKRImkcE-2w_IWufU4gzsCNeGVGUUuHWlIDsQw9j_J1zjuQCayiwL0Pehu9u_n5gFrYz3zxtNnHBGaQm_SZE-N4qpdfO6v7AGn-bGXnsguzjD_-hlub85GyQXr2ZUhgZ2u61p9lY8Qd3oPXOvwl4f=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: center;">O.S. map 1888-1913</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: center;">CC-BY-NC-SA National Library of Scotland</span></div></span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">The hamlet's name doesn't come from the reservoir which was built there in the 1950s – it appears, for example, as Skallingdam in the 1675 map of John Ogilby. I suspect the hamlet was given its name to show it was a sort of outpost of the village of Scaling but near the dam – the Dam Bridge can be seen on the map above. It was, of course, a very practical place for a settlement, being on the moors road at the junction with the road to Staithes. It isn't surprising to see that the 1888-1913 map shows both a pub and a smithy, both of which must have been there for very many years. Both Scaling and Scaling Dam were in the parish of Easington in Cleveland.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Atkinson the Parliamentarian Soldier</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The family didn't remember the Soldier's Christian name, but knew that he had been at the battles of Marston Moor (1644), Naseby (1645), Preston (1648) and Dunbar (1650). The fact that Marston Moor seems to be his first major battle suggests the Soldier was a Northerner, and the fact that he spent the rest of his life in Scaling Dam seems to me to show that he was almost certainly an East Cleveland man. It's hard to think an outsider would find his way to Scaling Dam in the middle of the 17th century.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Soldier used to talk of the <a href="http://bcw-project.org/military/third-civil-war/dunbar" target="_blank">battle of Dunbar</a>, Oliver Cromwell's miracle victory. The histories say that when the right wing of Scottish cavalry broke under the English attack, Oliver Cromwell and General Lambert didn't allow the English troopers to go in pursuit and, as the troopers regrouped, they sang the 117th Psalm</p><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote>O praise the Lord, all ye nations:<br />praise him, all ye people.<br />For his merciful kindness is great toward us:<br />and the truth of the Lord endureth for ever.</blockquote></div><p style="text-align: justify;">When the Soldier looked back on the battle, Thomas wrote, he used to say of the singing</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">their Notes were more pleasing to Him who is the Giver of all Victory than the Clashing of Swords and roaring of Canon. </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The Soldier was very probably a member of one of Cleveland’s Trained Bands, the local militias made up of householders and their sons, who were obliged to turn out when summoned for training and action. The ability to read and write was spreading fast among the common people at this time, but the sort of family that was liable for Trained Band service would certainly produce a literate man like the Soldier, whose constant reading of Scripture led him to have, as Thomas wrote, "the Bible and Testament almost by Heart".</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Soldier Atkinson was in the minority in the North Riding of Yorkshire, which was almost entirely Royalist in sympathy – though many, if not most, people didn't want to choose a side at all and simply wanted to be left in peace. The North Riding gentlemen who supported Parliament had a difficult time raising troops and the troops, when assembled, weren't keen. Sir Henry Foulis reported that a Cleveland foot regiment that had mustered 500 men at Yarm had rapidly dwindled to 80 at the approach of the enemy. (see <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2021/05/5-war-in-yorkshire-1642-1643.html" target="_blank">War in Yorkshire: 1642-1643</a>)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Parliamentarian gentry included the Foulis brothers, whose father Sir David Foulis had been put in the Fleet Prison for several years because he opposed the King’s man, Sir Thomas Wentworth (the story can be found <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2014/03/sir-thomas-layton-finds-himself-before.html " target="_blank">here</a>) but their family estates were at Ingleby on the western escarpment of the moors.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">A Parliamentarian gentleman from the close neighbourhood of Scaling Dam was <a href="https://www.british-history.ac.uk/no-series/cromwell-army-officers/surnames-c" target="_blank">Nicholas Conyers</a>. In fact he came from the parish of Easington itself, being the son of Nicholas Conyers of Boulby, and, like Soldier Atkinson, he was at Marston Moor. Two of his brothers died fighting for the King.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Nicholas Conyers was in the Scarborough garrison under Sir Hugh Cholmley of Whitby when Cholmley <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2021/05/5-war-in-yorkshire-1642-1643.html" target="_blank">changed sides</a> and took the town over to the Royalists in 1643.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Cholmley first made sure that anybody wanting to leave Scarborough before it became Royalist had left the town. Many did, including Nicholas Conyers. If Soldier Atkinson was there with Sir Hugh's forces, he too will have left for the Parliamentarian garrison at Hull.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Atkinson the Soldier was clearly one of the Godly – a Puritan – and committed to Parliament's cause. This makes him an interesting figure in the overwhelmingly Royalist North Riding. Perhaps there were many more like him among the ordinary men of Cleveland, but we only know about the gentry and we don't know how many of the Soldier's neighbours and relatives shared his views. And we don't know what his views were – how ardent a Puritan he was, how radical a Parliamentarian.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas describes the Soldier as a subaltern. I've checked with Phil Philo (do not miss his new blog <a href="https://ofthingstrentnorth345431120.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Of Things Trent-North</a>) and this was not a term used at the time. I think all we can say for definite is that his family remembered that he had men under him. So he could have been a junior officer, or a sergeant or a corporal. Nor do we know if he fought in the foot or the cavalry.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhr2TJVUIf166pmttDpGIuROMhHlvSaEzYYxzr27ddTG_DYudrYkcftSDVas78zAkakYuVnfieVuRV-Nwt2dn0zxLrSHKyzmPtLqqZQHsqNxgaGH-3CTDFERS6ePxGOnK-QN75f534S1zlxqkt8SGyBmeZpk6uRoRccqjVi7NZZJ_KYLtLSII_5SjHI=s1122" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="1122" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhr2TJVUIf166pmttDpGIuROMhHlvSaEzYYxzr27ddTG_DYudrYkcftSDVas78zAkakYuVnfieVuRV-Nwt2dn0zxLrSHKyzmPtLqqZQHsqNxgaGH-3CTDFERS6ePxGOnK-QN75f534S1zlxqkt8SGyBmeZpk6uRoRccqjVi7NZZJ_KYLtLSII_5SjHI=w400-h194" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pikemen. Photo by <a href="http://www.beardsworth.co.uk/" target="_blank">John Beardsworth</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">In the same way, Thomas thought that he lived to a very great age "being near a hundred before he died". This isn't any help in identifying him, as the Easington parish registers for the time are fragmentary and don't record the age anyway. But we can certainly say that he was notable in the area, with his past history of bloody and brutal warfare, his command of the Bible and his great age. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">After the fighting stopped, everyone must have had to learn to live together and mend the divisions within families and neighbourhoods. It can't have been easy after so many deaths and so much destruction. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">We don't know how the Soldier made his living before and after the wars, but we can guess that if his father was a farmer then he wasn't the eldest son, because then he would have been needed on the land. So he would have had a trade. At some point the Soldier married and had at least one son, whose name was John, who was "brought up to the business of a Tanner", so perhaps the Soldier was a tanner himself. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Tanning was a vital industry at this time, with leather necessary for so many things, from boots, shoes and gloves to horse collars, and Scaling Dam was a good place for the tanning process, with water from the Dam Beck nearby. Tanning was done in pits lined with timber. The bark of young coppiced oaks was used, or lime, and the process took time, hard manual labour and skill. Most villages had a leather worker and they were to be found in much larger numbers in towns. Tanners often farmed on the side.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p style="text-align: center;"><b>John Atkinson, tanner of Scaling Dam (c1668-1729) & Jane Shepherd (1668-1728)</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas Atkinson perfectly remembered his grandparents, John and Jane. They died at about the same time when both were about 60 years old. A Jane Atkinson, wife of John, was buried at Easington on 2 September 1728 and a John Atkinson senior (they had a son called John) was buried on 13 April 1729. I feel confident that they are Thomas's grandparents. It's quite something to think that John saw the reigns of Charles II, James II, William & Mary, Anne, George I and George II.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">John Atkinson the tanner was born in about 1668 – after the Restoration of King Charles II, and we wonder how the Soldier felt about that – so we can see that the Soldier may not have come home immediately after the battle of Dunbar in 1650. He may have stayed in the army for a while. And it may be that he was the John Atkinson who was buried at Easington on 23 January 1708. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">John Atkinson the tanner married Jane Shepherd. Their grandson Thomas thought she was from Kildale, but she was born in the parish of Lythe. She was one of the daughters of Thomas Shipart/Shepherd of Barnby and she was baptised at Lythe on 29 October 1668. (East Barnby is about 6 miles from Scaling Dam, 1½ miles from Lythe.) </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas thought that his grandfather must also have had a sister, who married into the Storrs "of Newton or Barnby" because he remembered his father's cousins John, Henry and Thomas Storr. (Newton must mean Newton Mulgrave, about 4 miles from Scaling Dam in the direction of Runswick.) His grandfather might have had a sister – the Easington records are fragmentary. We don't know how many Atkinsons were living in the parish – there was more than one family by the 1720s – but there is a Mary Atkinson, daughter of John Atkinson of Scaling, who was baptised on 6 April 1667 and who might have been Thomas's great-aunt. But it was his grandmother's sister who married into the Storr family. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Aylce/Ellise Shepherd was another of Thomas Shepherd of Barnby's daughters. She was baptised at Lythe on 26 November 1665 and married Henry Storr at Lythe on 31 January 1681. The Lythe baptismal register lists three sons of Henry Storr: John 1695, Henry 1697 and Thomas 1693.</p><p>The children of John Atkinson & Jane Shepherd were, according to Thomas:</p><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>William, who died a bachelor. (He possibly died in 1723: William son of John Atkinson was buried 26 January 1723)</li><li>Mary</li><li>John</li><li>Daniel, who died a bachelor. (He possibly died in 1728: Daniel son of John Atkinson was buried 16 February 1728)</li><li>Ann</li><li>Thomas, born 25 Feb 1696 & baptised at Easington 8 March 1696 – this was Thomas's father</li></ul></div><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Thomas Atkinson (1696-1755) & Judith Pindar (c1693-?1774) of Scaling </b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The family Bible in which Thomas was recording "From Oral Tradition" had been bought by his father Thomas in 1728, when he was the father of a young family.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the record of the family dates, Thomas's father wrote that he and Judith Pindar were married on May Day 1721. This might have been a slip of the pen – or it might have been deliberate. The Archbishop of York Marriage Licences Index shows that the date of the marriage licence obtained by Judeth Pinder was actually 27 March 1722. </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4xjH8S5WD5MWoIyuNgktjfnF4CbvHL9B2f8qYXByZt8FYA162Ty1SXxJC0iAqNKJGDfYsbFkbHcz3acxihA96w695Nrr1dxg8uobk7iGWFmlUk0cIesTFLR3GT0F0jRYgZnQJpTXefOKGp7eF1G6BJba7RDqfV2Q-V6Spa_AYhGE9cskPWA-JXl6B=s1008" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="1008" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4xjH8S5WD5MWoIyuNgktjfnF4CbvHL9B2f8qYXByZt8FYA162Ty1SXxJC0iAqNKJGDfYsbFkbHcz3acxihA96w695Nrr1dxg8uobk7iGWFmlUk0cIesTFLR3GT0F0jRYgZnQJpTXefOKGp7eF1G6BJba7RDqfV2Q-V6Spa_AYhGE9cskPWA-JXl6B=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Mary the Virgin, Whitby by <a href="https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/5583208" target="_blank">David Dixon</a></span> </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Judith and Thomas were both of Easington parish – she was aged 28 and he was aged 26 – and she wasn't going to wait for a particular church to be available for the ceremony. She asked for a licence valid for Whitby, Lythe or Sneaton. And as soon as she had the licence, she and Thomas went to St Mary the Virgin on the clifftop in Whitby, and were married that very day. The reason for the rush? She was very pregnant with Thomas junior, who was born just over a fortnight later.</div><p></p><p>Thomas senior carefully noted the day and hour of his children's births: </p><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Thomas Atkinson junr, born on Friday the 13th April between 9 and 10 at Night 1722 [& baptised 10 March 1722]</li><li>Mary Atkinson, born on Wednesday the 5th of August about 10 o'clock in the Forenoon in the Year 1724</li><li>William Atkinson, born on Friday the 19th of Augt between 10 and 11 o'clock in the Forenoon 1726 [& baptised 21 August 1726]</li><li>John Atkinson, born on Saturday the 10th May between 4 and 5 in the Morning the Sun being about 8 on 10 Min: high. 1729. [& baptised 1 June 1729]</li><li>Jane Atkinson, born on Tuesday the 23rd of February about 5 o'clock in the Morning 1730/1</li><li>Isaac Atkinson, born the 5th of May it being Saturday abt half past 11 o'clock in the Forenoon 1733. [& baptised 3 June 1733] </li><li>Margaret Atkinson, born on Monday the 4th of July at one o'clock in the Morning 1736. [& baptised 14 July 1736]</li></ul></div><p style="text-align: justify;">On 12 September 1788, when he wrote "From Oral Tradition", Thomas junior noted, "All these have been dead many years except Self and Sister Jane". </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I think his younger sisters Mary and Margaret may have died young. A Margaret, daughter of Thomas Atkinson, was buried on 28 June 1737 – if she was Thomas's sister, she would have been less than a year old – and a Mary, daughter of Thomas Atkinson was buried 17 July 1741. If she had been Thomas's sister, she would have been nearly 17.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">One terrible summer, after Thomas had been Master at Kirkleatham for 4 years, two of his brothers and his father died within weeks of each other. They were, Thomas wrote </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">swept away by an epidemical Fever which raged in the Neighbourhood of Skaling in the Summer of the Year 1755. My Father was buried on Midsummer Day, Isaac a few days before and John William about three weeks after him</blockquote><p></p><p>The Easington parish registers record their burials:</p><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote>Isaac, son of Thomas Atkinson of Scaling dam on 17 June 1755<br />Thomas Atkinson of Scaling dam on 24 June 1755<br />William Atkinson of Scaling dam on 13 July 1755</blockquote></div><p>Isaac was 22, William was nearly 29 and their father was 59. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It must have been an appalling time for the family, and in the confusion afterwards the family Bible was quietly taken away from Thomas's mother by a man called Hudson. It was some time before Thomas could recover it and he found it was much defaced by Hudson and his children writing their names and "many Sentences too ridiculous to be seen in a Book of this Sort". The repair of the Bible was part of Thomas's project in 1788 when he wrote "From Oral Tradition". </p><p style="text-align: justify;">His father had had no time to make a Will before his death – a pity for me as he almost certainly would have given his occupation – and so Thomas's mother Judith had to take out Letters of Administration on 14 August. So we don't know what Thomas senior did for a living, but the fact that he and two of his adult sons were all in Scaling Dam and caught the fever together suggests they worked together. Perhaps they farmed; perhaps they ran a tannery alongside the farming. At all events, everything had to be sold up. Neither Thomas nor his surviving brother John, who was a shoemaker in Scaling Dam, would be carrying on their father's business.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas wrote that his brother "John died fourteen years ago and left a Widow six Daughters and a Son of the same name".</p><p style="text-align: justify;">So John can be identified as the John Atkinson of Easington who married Mary Hudson of Whitby at Easington on 30 June 1757 by banns (John signed the register, Mary made her mark) and his children are clearly the 6 girls and a boy called John who were baptised in Easington. In the case of the baptism of the youngest, Hannah, not only her father's name, John, is given but also her mother's name – Mary:</p><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Jane Atkinson, baptised 14 May 1758</li><li>Mary Atkinson, 30 November 1760</li><li>Ann Atkinson, 24 February 1765</li><li>Alice Atkinson, 21 September 1767</li><li>Dorothy Atkinson, 18 October 1768</li><li>John Atkinson, 5 July 1771</li><li>Hannah Atkinson, 23 April 1774 </li></ul></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas's brother John was buried a few months after Hannah's baptism, on 29 September 1774 – which is, as Thomas says, 14 years before Thomas repaired the Bible. It is the burial register which records John's occupation as a shoemaker. His widow Mary was left with a large family of young children to bring up.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's possible that Thomas's mother Judith was the Judith Atkinson who was buried at Easington on 8 November 1774. The burial register records that she lived at Roxby, about 3 miles from Scaling Dam, but they would have wanted to bury her with her husband and sons. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Of his sister Jane, Thomas wrote that Jane was still living (in 1788) and "has had three Sons and four Daughters all now living except her eldest Daughter".</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I think it's most likely that his sister Jane was the Jane Atkinson of Easington who married Francis Legg of Roxby, in Hinderwell parish church on 18 November 1755. The same clergyman evidently served both Easington church and Hinderwell church, reading the banns at Easington and taking the ceremony at Hinderwell. Of their children, I can find find the baptisms of Mary in 1756 at Hinderwell, and John 1767, William 1770 and Elisabeth 1773, all baptised at Roxby.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Francis Legg, farmer of High Scaling, was buried on 12 February 1792 in Roxby, and Jane Legg, widow, was buried in Roxby on 26 November 1813. She was aged 82, which fits with the age of Thomas's sister – and she had outlived all her siblings.</p><div style="text-align: right;"><i>Next post: </i><span style="text-align: left;"><i><a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2022/03/thomas-atkinson-1722-92-master-of-sir.html" target="_blank">Thomas Atkinson (1722-92), Master of Sir William Turner's Hospital, Kirkleatham</a> </i></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-70517963855607273632022-02-05T08:00:00.006+00:002022-02-14T19:34:22.502+00:00Who were they? A guide to the memorials & stained glass of Hutton Rudby church<p style="text-align: center;"><i>I'm revisiting <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-people-behind-plaques-memorials-in.html" target="_blank">The People behind the Plaques: memorials in All Saints', Hutton Rudby</a> to add my most recent research. This is a slightly shorter version, it's got more illustrations </i><span style="text-align: justify;">–</span><i> I hope it's written in a more accessible, less formal style </i><span style="text-align: justify;">–</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><i>and I hope it will be useful for families and visitors to the church!</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">This is a guide for anyone who has ever wondered about the people commemorated in the tablets, memorials and stained glass of All Saints', Hutton Rudby.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1LLEOeHpRti4THU_YNta5CBzqMrc8hpDPEccRm-O6wCWWhXp6qzmsrGJfaojJjg8xg4cgPiBgmhY4lPz3GV6kQ9mLPhLEzuEYv1h1tJIeSRU2M20JNvflS0cgSr5J8a2pXYa4ABMpjx_CUvlSEqFVsd-G9JxRUsh6bE40qom0rS4aX2SeQ0rZOl-P=s994" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="664" data-original-width="994" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1LLEOeHpRti4THU_YNta5CBzqMrc8hpDPEccRm-O6wCWWhXp6qzmsrGJfaojJjg8xg4cgPiBgmhY4lPz3GV6kQ9mLPhLEzuEYv1h1tJIeSRU2M20JNvflS0cgSr5J8a2pXYa4ABMpjx_CUvlSEqFVsd-G9JxRUsh6bE40qom0rS4aX2SeQ0rZOl-P=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">All Saints', Hutton Rudby</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;">You've come into the church by the south door</b><span style="text-align: left;">. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>If you turn to the right</b>, you will see an alcove in the wall. Under a trefoiled arch lies a stone slab on which is carved the figure of a mediaeval priest holding a chalice. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5ZH3slaGngOXgoyxoKTA7GMmsDjRGfUAWSWsh62SqSk6xaV_g7xZ1dzHw_neD9zDwgob1uUczv97E2RTpILoF1m2Huw5PK8j4UxQYbTsTd-7DuL_tVgFI3bcLYP66EkB5yXpSKGyjP6IjJ0SAnefWCyxcnnRwDD3T-gkJazTPcYbJMeoWLpayJoom=s838" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="838" data-original-width="316" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5ZH3slaGngOXgoyxoKTA7GMmsDjRGfUAWSWsh62SqSk6xaV_g7xZ1dzHw_neD9zDwgob1uUczv97E2RTpILoF1m2Huw5PK8j4UxQYbTsTd-7DuL_tVgFI3bcLYP66EkB5yXpSKGyjP6IjJ0SAnefWCyxcnnRwDD3T-gkJazTPcYbJMeoWLpayJoom=w151-h400" width="151" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Monument to a priest, Rudby-in-Cleveland <br /><a href="http://www.churchmonumentsgazetteer.co.uk/Yorks_N_Riding_4.html" target="_blank">from Church Monuments Gazetteer</a></span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>This is the earliest memorial in the church, dating from between the 12th and early 14th centuries, and – tantalisingly – we don't know who the priest is. Suggestions include Thomas de Werlington, rector of the parish in the first decades of the 14th century. Or it could represent Walter de Kirkham, Bishop of Durham. Or King Edward I's friend Peter of Chester – he was rector when the lord of nearby Whorlton Castle was accused of four murders and arson. Or possibly the deeply unpleasant Hugh de Cressingham, King Edward I’s Treasurer of Scotland, who was killed in 1297 at the Battle of Cambuskenneth. He was so loathed by the Scots that they stripped the skin from his body – accounts say his body was fat and his skin fair – and it is said that William Wallace asked for a piece large enough to be made into a sword belt.<p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Another ancient survival can be seen to the left of the south door</b> – a window with a border of fragments of mediaeval glass, in which can be seen a shield with the motto of a Garter Knight: "Honi soit qui mal y pense". The arms on the shield are those of Sir John Conyers of Hornby. Sir John acquired the manor of Hutton by marrying Margery, daughter and co-heiress of the last Lord Darcy and Meinell whose family had been given the manor by William the Conqueror. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It was the Meynells and Darcys who built the first church on this site in the mid 12th century. That was in the time of King Henry II, whose lands stretched across England, much of Wales, the east of Ireland and the west of France. In about 1300, this early church was replaced by the present building. The tower was added 100 years later.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Until the 1530s when Henry VIII split the church in England from the Church of Rome, the scene inside the church was very different to the one we see today. There was a rood loft – a candle-lit wooden screen – separating the chancel, where the priests ministered at the main altar, from the nave where the people gathered. On the walls all round the nave were paintings of angels, the Last Judgement and scenes from the Bible, and images and statues of the Virgin Mary and the saints. All round the nave were side chapels – there was an altar to St Christopher, patron saint of travellers, and another to the great Anglo-Saxon saint of the North East, St Cuthbert. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Sir John Conyers of Hornby was one of the great survivors of the Wars of the Roses (1455-1487).</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgah7bEHERMVSJjEt8kQY1NMXf7phRNQON-87g4tdPPg-6Knz89_MM39qB4_oSRmRkUolvU4EekXXVZN6imPyYkcSfUo1VHOJU26OYMx2hUsj8sJ9CZ_H2StNwc1az-6SULHEw-0wghm6ZZFDRe9ESZqXBl2ACO0uRsp-nX14EWSkkKikOpD403poQO=s495" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="495" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgah7bEHERMVSJjEt8kQY1NMXf7phRNQON-87g4tdPPg-6Knz89_MM39qB4_oSRmRkUolvU4EekXXVZN6imPyYkcSfUo1VHOJU26OYMx2hUsj8sJ9CZ_H2StNwc1az-6SULHEw-0wghm6ZZFDRe9ESZqXBl2ACO0uRsp-nX14EWSkkKikOpD403poQO=w200-h196" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Edward IV (1442-83)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">After the Yorkist victory in 1461 at the Battle of Towton, the bloodiest battle ever fought on English soil, Edward Duke of York made himself King Edward IV in the place of King Henry VI. But Edward's marriage to the beautiful Elizabeth Woodville led to a rift between Edward and his powerful cousin the Earl of Warwick, who was known as Warwick the Kingmaker. So Warwick plotted to put Henry VI, then in the Tower of London, back on the throne. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the spring of 1469, North Country rebels under a mysterious captain called "Robin Mend-All" or "Robin of Redesdale" rose against Edward IV. Redesdale, in the Debatable Land of the Scottish Borders, was the hideout of Henry VI's supporters, but it was clear that the rebels' centre of operations was Richmondshire in Yorkshire – and it is said that Robin was in fact Sir John Conyers of Hornby, steward for the Earl of Warwick at his castle at Middleham. Warwick was behind the rising and he and his allies went on to defeat Edward's men at the Battle of Edgcote Field in Northamptonshire. </p><p>Frail and bemused, Henry VI was made king again.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgo7LFy-D5dh81iUa8z6hO4uuxfACDNJ4QKz1wWMBL6loArn-QIFHjz5wEj4yDRjwpRDfM-oFyrIN8Z85N2z0MNIQgZM-tnTaN95qxaXNht8HjJivSy29yUJnrZmNivsY1xQryXNFIcv8TeeteQobedwpZABGqgLP6bSPznYW7d30T_AtFp4ziDm2ug=s330" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="330" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgo7LFy-D5dh81iUa8z6hO4uuxfACDNJ4QKz1wWMBL6loArn-QIFHjz5wEj4yDRjwpRDfM-oFyrIN8Z85N2z0MNIQgZM-tnTaN95qxaXNht8HjJivSy29yUJnrZmNivsY1xQryXNFIcv8TeeteQobedwpZABGqgLP6bSPznYW7d30T_AtFp4ziDm2ug=w200-h197" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Warwick the Kingmaker</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Then Edward IV made a savage comeback, Warwick died in the Battle of Barnet, and Henry VI was quietly murdered in the Tower. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But Sir John Conyers was able to make his peace with Edward IV. Twelve years later, Edward's sudden death was followed by his brother Richard taking the throne in 1483, becoming King Richard III. Sir John was so much in the new king's favour, that Richard made him a Knight of the Garter. Two years later, Richard III was killed at the Battle of Bosworth Field and Henry Tudor took the throne as Henry VII. Yet again Sir John managed to be greatly in favour at court. He became a knight of the body to the new king and died, laden with honours, in 1490. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>At the base of the ancient font</b>, you can see the arms of the Conyers family carved on a stone shield. The wooden font cover is a much more recent gift to the church. It was donated by the brothers and sisters of William Chapman, who farmed at Old Hall, Sexhow and was a churchwarden and Superintendent of the Sunday School for many years. He died aged 66 in 1916.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyMMlK3CV1Q61WOk2KFSCqlm7DS8eOEzZdAuhQGkalf7YkxKz7tl6XvI8QDcqphAsoQBW-115z6eF-PIb3R_wtaSGvlIreqTBqEon9kiL9X_jZo3nx0QTnEGmaibcv1Y0ha24vCIPjnaCHmXKSMEnLaPMbcbX0d47bCFDpa8FQzIFN1oJgCb1dVVI9=s2560" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyMMlK3CV1Q61WOk2KFSCqlm7DS8eOEzZdAuhQGkalf7YkxKz7tl6XvI8QDcqphAsoQBW-115z6eF-PIb3R_wtaSGvlIreqTBqEon9kiL9X_jZo3nx0QTnEGmaibcv1Y0ha24vCIPjnaCHmXKSMEnLaPMbcbX0d47bCFDpa8FQzIFN1oJgCb1dVVI9=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Interior of Hutton Rudby church & the window to Sir John Henry Ropner</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The nearby window on the west wall</b> shows St Nicholas, patron saint of sailors and children, and St Francis of Assisi, patron saint of ecology and the environment. It's the only window in the church to commemorate a man – all the others are dedicated to women – and it was the last window to be created. When it was cut into the wall in 1937, the church looked much as it does today. The last major alterations, outside and inside, were carried out in 1923.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The window was given to the church in memory of Sir John Henry Ropner (1860-1936) of Skutterskelfe Hall by his surviving daughter, Mrs Mary Enid Stroyan. She and her sister Margaret had married brothers, the sons of Scottish industrialist and businessman John Stroyan.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Sir John Henry Ropner's father Robert (1838-1924) was one of the many Germans who took part in the great expansion of industry on the River Tees. He was a shipbuilder, shipowner and Conservative MP for Stockton. In 1882 he bought Preston Hall and Park in Eaglescliffe for a family home conveniently near to his businesses and the railway station, and he bought the country estates of Skutterskelfe and Rudby a dozen years later. Sir Robert was knighted in 1902 and made a baronet in 1904. He was very active in public life and he and his family were generous benefactors of Stockton and Hutton Rudby and generous donors to this church. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">When Sir Robert died in 1924, he left Preston Hall to his youngest son Leonard and Skutterskelfe Hall (nowadays called Rudby Hall) to his eldest son John, who inherited the title of baronet. Preston Hall is now the Preston Park Museum and much more information about the family can be found there.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Facing the window to Sir John is the window above the altar of the Lady Chapel</b>. It was given in memory of a young mother – Sir John's elder daughter Margaret. It shows the Blessed Virgin Mary with Jesus in her arms, the martyr St Catherine of Alexandria, and St John the Baptist. Margaret Ropner was married to a young barrister, Captain John Stroyan. In 1927 Margaret and John were staying with his father at Lanrick Castle in Perthshire, when their car left the road and went over an embankment into Loch Lubnaig. Captain Stroyan escaped with minor injuries but Margaret was killed. She was 32 years old and left two young children. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>In the south wall nearby</b> is a window to the memory of Margaret's mother, Lady Ropner. Born Margaret MacGregor, she married John Henry Ropner in 1888 and died in 1932 aged 69. The window shows Faith, Hope, and Charity. Charity is in the centre, with a child in her arms and children at her feet. Faith has a lamp, the light of faith, and Hope is blindfolded, with only one string to her harp.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i style="text-align: center;">The best way of examining these windows and seeing all the tiny details </i><i>–</i><i style="text-align: center;"> especially in the east window </i><i>–</i><i style="text-align: center;"> is to go to <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/davewebster14/3531745282/in/album-72157627524555534/" target="_blank">Dave Webster's flickr page</a> and zoom in to the pictures </i></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgSHTuB0DxDlhId1ODKEvKC3--qDcbCj5VlaIWBgtA4vlf61WnSl7t3j04eriI7T7HLWBHejqs-rKDd9ANT-pxy0EYm-eKAGldDkbn5PxhdP7RTpVdUfLYMxSiXPiYXz6Ps_akvFOJ84Q9hv3Pj9dbka4FZoKgv9y-oj1tuIrm8CU0Wck39MsgU_da=s4209" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4209" data-original-width="2976" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgSHTuB0DxDlhId1ODKEvKC3--qDcbCj5VlaIWBgtA4vlf61WnSl7t3j04eriI7T7HLWBHejqs-rKDd9ANT-pxy0EYm-eKAGldDkbn5PxhdP7RTpVdUfLYMxSiXPiYXz6Ps_akvFOJ84Q9hv3Pj9dbka4FZoKgv9y-oj1tuIrm8CU0Wck39MsgU_da=w453-h640" width="453" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">East window, Hutton Rudby church</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>At the east end of the church behind the main altar</b> can be seen the fourth window given to the church by the Ropner family. It is the largest and finest of all – the east window by J C Bewsey. His design expresses the worship of Christ by the whole company of saints, apostles, prophets and teachers of the church and it is filled with figures, from tiny angels at the very top of the window to the saints gathered on either side of the Cross. You can see St George with his banner on the left and St Joan of Arc with her banner on the right. St Oswald, King of Northumbria, is on the far right with his sword. Beside him kneels St Cuthbert, carrying St Oswald's head. This is because the king's head is buried with St Cuthbert in Durham Cathedral. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The window commemorates Sir Robert Ropner's wife Mary Anne Craik of Newton Stewart, who died at Preston Hall in 1921. She and Sir Robert had been married for 65 years and had nine children. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Elsewhere on the walls</b>, you will find memorial tablets to Sir Robert and Mary Anne, to their youngest daughter Elsa, who had lived quietly at home with her parents and died aged 22, and to their son Sir John Henry and his wife Margaret. The Ropner family vault can be found in the churchyard. The family sold their estates at Skutterskelfe and Rudby after the Second World War.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On 14 May 1933, the vicar dedicated both the new east window in memory of Lady Ropner and the newly-built lych gate given by Allan Bowes Wilson. It is hard now to imagine the church without them. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Allan Bowes Wilson and his brother Thomas were the sons of George Wilson (1810-76), who founded the <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2020/02/hutton-rudby-1859-1908-cleveland.html" target="_blank">Hutton Sailcloth Mill</a>, which stood on the Hutton side of the river. On the photograph below, you can see the Hutton Sailcloth Mill on the other side of the bridge.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguS8gh9lTB06SPM1qOu4MyJpNybHiAJpy3UcVUGKaF4P6_CUVZDP-QI_eT5fLdEyxwPrBtZwdrE7xahm82ZYfxprYOm0eLjAgQvb5CukgKMskVheB-f3WWG5jroNAjNde6_nkN9iVepzlih6fWAdhcsCj-dMCI_CaBtikJKsQGck0oV46Vgwql6VOP=s2006" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1213" data-original-width="2006" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguS8gh9lTB06SPM1qOu4MyJpNybHiAJpy3UcVUGKaF4P6_CUVZDP-QI_eT5fLdEyxwPrBtZwdrE7xahm82ZYfxprYOm0eLjAgQvb5CukgKMskVheB-f3WWG5jroNAjNde6_nkN9iVepzlih6fWAdhcsCj-dMCI_CaBtikJKsQGck0oV46Vgwql6VOP=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The newly-installed lych gate at Hutton Rudby church</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">From the mid 19th century until after the Second World War, the Wilsons were influential in the village as employers and property owners and were active in village celebrations and organisations. Thomas Bowes Wilson, his wife and their three children lived at Enterpen Hall; Allan Bowes Wilson, who never married, lived at Hutton House with his unmarried sister. Allan was very generous to All Saints', giving not only the lych gate but also a large donation towards the 1923 restoration and the panelling round the east end of the church. He died in 1932 aged 93.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>In the south wall of the Lady Chapel </b>is a window showing Christ's Ascension. It was given in memory of Maria Hutton, wife of Thomas Bowes Wilson. She died in 1904 aged 55. In the photograph below, which shows the south side of the church before the altar was restored to the Lady Chapel, you can see the window to Maria has been installed but the other windows are plain glass. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJc1sqZED5E21nP-CXT6oUU7TqW0oxS5oz1JbijO3HrUixAuocP9W7_v1T_T5RwGlVg146yu3DaYanOGf24VRtv3tgM_zCuhfCSWXVfN2pJS3FKHx0vV8IZYnQsrqCKvIvCW8ROMoRTkPgwJQ24rINFX_VJc4A1HprCQIPbzcT7N_ceTol9O-d_jZ7=s4209" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2750" data-original-width="4209" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJc1sqZED5E21nP-CXT6oUU7TqW0oxS5oz1JbijO3HrUixAuocP9W7_v1T_T5RwGlVg146yu3DaYanOGf24VRtv3tgM_zCuhfCSWXVfN2pJS3FKHx0vV8IZYnQsrqCKvIvCW8ROMoRTkPgwJQ24rINFX_VJc4A1HprCQIPbzcT7N_ceTol9O-d_jZ7=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Interior of Hutton Rudby church, early C20</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Nearby are brass tablets to her husband Thomas, who died in 1929 aged 84, and their two sons. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">George Hutton Bowes-Wilson was a Middlesbrough solicitor who was also a Captain in the Territorials when the First World War broke out in 1914. He died aged 38 from a sniper's bullet in 1915. His two year old son had died only months earlier. His younger brother John had joined the regular army and served in the Boer War. He was a Lieutenant Colonel of 37, a married man with two little daughters, when he was killed in action in 1917. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>On the other side of the church, on the north wall</b>, you will find a memorial to the other young men of the village who died in the war. They came from all walks of life – stonemason, farm worker, teacher, railway porter, bank clerk … Brief biographies can be found in Fallen Leaves, a Millennium Project by the parish, on the Hutton Rudby History Society Facebook page. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Among the young men was 21 year old George Young Blair, the only son of <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2012/10/george-young-blair-drumrauch-hall.html" target="_blank">Mrs Mary Young Blair</a> of Linden Grove. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>The west window</b>, whose clear glass lights the church, commemorates Mrs Blair, a generous donor to the church and village, who donated the land on which to build the Village Hall in 1927. She died in 1935. She was the daughter of the Stockton industrialist George Young Blair (1826-94), who built Drumrauch Hall on Belbrough Lane as his country house. In 1895 his family gave the church an organ in his memory – he was a man with a passion for music – which will have made a great change from the harmonium music of the previous 35 years. (Before the harmonium was installed in 1860, a small orchestra of bassoon, oboe and strings used to play from a gallery built against the west wall in the 18th century). The Blairs were generous donors to the village and church. During the church restoration in 1923, the villagers were taken by bus to Drumrauch Hall where services were held in the music room. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Nearby on the north wall</b> is a plain white marble tablet to the memory of John Mease and his wife Hannah Geldart. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">It was John Mease who built the mill which was later developed by George Wilson and his sons into the Hutton Sailcloth Mill. <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2020/02/stokesley-1823-1834-flax-spinning-mill.html" target="_blank">John Mease and his brother Thomas</a> were entrepreneurs in the chancy world of the newly industrialising textile business of the early 19th century. Together they set up a steam-powered flax-spinning mill behind Stokesley High Street, and Thomas built the New Mill (now Millbry Hill country store) beside the packhorse bridge on the River Leven. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjs-UrSjtobG__UHfIVvsiB_TIUD7BHtLo-XvD5BEIXFaCxauj0CIUQ2u0o8T2fhkK7ipu0BADotipu3IMMU-7ycMFw5ABLKbs9C--iujIXweUpP0dzcnJLHo0kb7sKxC2725dX-a9U48u5MFfS9gL19i_DnuU-DFHjymu70Rq-2j2vo7A3Iji725mx=s1792" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1315" data-original-width="1792" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjs-UrSjtobG__UHfIVvsiB_TIUD7BHtLo-XvD5BEIXFaCxauj0CIUQ2u0o8T2fhkK7ipu0BADotipu3IMMU-7ycMFw5ABLKbs9C--iujIXweUpP0dzcnJLHo0kb7sKxC2725dX-a9U48u5MFfS9gL19i_DnuU-DFHjymu70Rq-2j2vo7A3Iji725mx=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Hutton Rudby church and the Hutton Sailcloth Mill</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">In the mid-1830s, John set up <a href="http://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2020/02/hutton-rudby-1834-1849-flax-spinning.html" target="_blank">his own water-powered flax-spinning mill</a> in the field beside the Hutton Rudby bridge. When the business didn't prosper, he moved his family to London where he was a hop factor, buying hops for the huge London brewery market, and he leased the mill buildings to George Wilson. He kept Leven House, his home in the village, as a country escape. It stands not far from the church, at the bottom of Hutton Bank. His wife Hannah died in London in 1851, when their two children were aged 12 and 14. John died at Leven House in 1876 at the age of 77.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEvYRbpw7YQuheyidkb6fLHLOE7kN60elAyw2KbTe7C9cctRhq_DZat1wdbGWr7TkDneEZrYBSZJ06CTeCSwgK_uin2UmNmShDlDG1h13YObHGx4hU17zlgkVOlgEqODLF0C9s4EOji3-l02dnf-_7iBdcBp18wyZHQVFR1ZGZAT8g80gX16qt5zX1=s4209" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4209" data-original-width="2976" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEvYRbpw7YQuheyidkb6fLHLOE7kN60elAyw2KbTe7C9cctRhq_DZat1wdbGWr7TkDneEZrYBSZJ06CTeCSwgK_uin2UmNmShDlDG1h13YObHGx4hU17zlgkVOlgEqODLF0C9s4EOji3-l02dnf-_7iBdcBp18wyZHQVFR1ZGZAT8g80gX16qt5zX1=s320" width="226" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pulpit, Hutton Rudby church</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>The pulpit </b>is a particular treasure of the church. It was the gift of <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2014/03/thomas-milner-of-skutterskelfe-life.html" target="_blank">Thomas Milner of Skutterskelfe</a>, a man who lived through the turbulent Tudor period. He was born in 1525, the year in which King Henry VIII began to fall for the charms of Anne Boleyn. He was 11 when Henry VIII began the dissolution of the monasteries and the religious houses of England were disbanded, and he was 14 when the monks had to leave nearby Mount Grace Priory. At the age of 21 he inherited a one-third share in the manor of Skutterskelfe from his mother Elizabeth Lindley, and it was in Skutterskelfe that he spent his life. He died on 7 November 1594, six years after donating the large sum of £25 to the defence of the country against the Spanish Armada. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">By the time he made his Will on 28 June 1589, the candles, images and chapels were long gone from All Saints', destroyed or removed following Henry VIII's split from the Church in Rome. But Thomas Milner was a stout Protestant and had no regrets for the past. He now planned to make his mark on the bare walls of the church. His tomb was to be built into the stonework of the wall at the end of the stall where he usually sat. It was to match the trefoiled arch in the south wall with the slab depicting the priest holding a chalice. There was to be an inscription in copper or brass above it </p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"with my grandfather’s name, my father, and mother, wife and daughter with my own name declaring the day of my death and year, and more as shall be thought good by my executors (whom I do in God’s behalf require to perform this my request)" </blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">The tomb is hidden now behind the organ installed in 1974, but you can see <b>the inscription on the wall</b>. The family tree begins with his grandfather Thomas Lindley and ends with his grandson <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2014/03/sir-thomas-layton-finds-himself-before.html" target="_blank">Sir Thomas Layton of Sexhow</a>. It must have taken the family some time to install it – Thomas Layton wasn't knighted until 1614. This is the text:</p><p></p><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"Thomas Lynley esquier married Margery the second daughter of Sr Thomas Newport knight and had issu Elizabeth marryed to Joseph Sorthwait ale [alias] Mylner esquier who had issu Thomas Mylner who marryed Frances the daughter of Willyam Baytes esquier who had issu Mary who was marryed to Charles Layton esquier and had issu Sr Thomas Laiton knight Here lyeth the body of Thomas Mylner deceased the 8oe November 1594"</blockquote><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjA7KV_uaaivpEfm_f3f9i1_6_dzJpKgUwjAQKCSHF0k0h070dB7srX0sZeSw4CAmCdrNk6MhgQPdCJgc5f9GIxarwymkeClAol5IPREiIdmktcRTKpGfBsQ-W1odbWQmeCpox7yLdeIpKZzmlsROE9vDh7DG0MrBpK_8HeCYec5B81CttqMR7QfMVk=s4209" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4209" data-original-width="2976" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjA7KV_uaaivpEfm_f3f9i1_6_dzJpKgUwjAQKCSHF0k0h070dB7srX0sZeSw4CAmCdrNk6MhgQPdCJgc5f9GIxarwymkeClAol5IPREiIdmktcRTKpGfBsQ-W1odbWQmeCpox7yLdeIpKZzmlsROE9vDh7DG0MrBpK_8HeCYec5B81CttqMR7QfMVk=s320" width="226" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Thomas Milner's surscription, Hutton Rudby church</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Having dealt with his tomb, Thomas Milner left a legacy of 20 shillings (£1) to the church for the building of "a comely new pulpit for the preaching of God's word". A pity, he said, that for the past 40 years there hadn't been better doctrine preached in the church.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the 18th century, when the church interior was plain and white, and a flat ceiling had been installed and the arched windows replaced by sash windows such as you would have in a house, the pulpit was whitewashed as well. It must have looked very unimpressive. It was only during the restoration work done in 1860 that they found once more the beautiful marquetry and the name Thomas Milner underneath five coats of paint. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Thomas, unlike his grandfather Thomas Lindley, wasn't entitled to a coat of arms of his own, so the shield bears the three griffin heads of the Lindleys and the three talbot dogs of the Gowers. The Lindleys had acquired their lands in Cleveland through the marriage of a Lindley in the 15th century with one of the daughters of John Gower of Sexhow and Skutterskelfe, whose family had held these lands for 200 years.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>The lectern</b>, in the shape of an eagle, was carved by Alexander Park, a gentleman farmer who lived at Leven House with his elderly spinster sisters at the end of the 19th century. Mr Park was for years the honorary secretary of the Hurworth Hunt, and was said not to have made a single enemy during all his time in office. On his last day out with the hounds he and his old black horse had a combined age of 99. He and his sisters were very generous and active in village and church life: the choir stalls and altar rails were given to the church by the family.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUh9Amx60-IKIcRKrYWwumdHuuKT-aQCuHDzx3Ub47PRpXAY1o5YlEb6uJ0IAzUcYZFN5CFsXMeVCQ5kI3CC9p9coE8SKugJOefbNq9X4Zs_1JKi6xzst7TwSnZ7qq9Z_Dz6hdR-RQMKR4vsnz0DweGXf-tBFFkOkzWb_fpd-_UORAIOIAJjwPfltM=s2560" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUh9Amx60-IKIcRKrYWwumdHuuKT-aQCuHDzx3Ub47PRpXAY1o5YlEb6uJ0IAzUcYZFN5CFsXMeVCQ5kI3CC9p9coE8SKugJOefbNq9X4Zs_1JKi6xzst7TwSnZ7qq9Z_Dz6hdR-RQMKR4vsnz0DweGXf-tBFFkOkzWb_fpd-_UORAIOIAJjwPfltM=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">View to the chancel, Hutton Rudby church</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>The chancel</b> lies beyond the pulpit and the organ. While the plaster was stripped from the walls of the nave in the restoration of 1923, the walls of the chancel are still plastered and on them you can see the memorials to the people who owned the manors of Rudby and Skutterskelfe before the Ropner family.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Isabella Ingram inherited the manor of Rudby, which her forebear Sir Arthur Ingram had acquired in about 1634, and her husband then bought the adjoining estate of Skutterskelfe. She was born in the early 18th century and died in 1799, so she saw the reigns of George I, George II and George III, the American War of Independence and the French Revolution. She was married to General the Hon. George Cary, the younger son of the 6th Viscount Falkland, and they had two daughters. George and Isabella replaced the old manorial hall at Skutterskelfe with a new mansion house, which they called Leven Grove. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">George Cary died in 1792 and Isabella put up a tablet in his memory – "an honest and charitable man and a generous friend." On Isabella's death seven years later, her daughter Elizabeth added a marble tablet with a tribute to her mother: "meekly wise and innocently chearful."</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9dqJ90Jw2Bx0U70lMDN5HT7XVH9sLABuacUBAmqXqYzbfXhj-EiyRDNH_DGKSsGdiJyFYdlLzg1oazh-Ru_0eHCnK_FElrgPh4gzK9tSM0i1Hp4HgsJ4ICC-33RNXlu0Yj0MwX47lo4WMjQtO7sKSU4fqs0Nelz0weLbhlQkXBc22fAOvneBzMacU=s738" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="615" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9dqJ90Jw2Bx0U70lMDN5HT7XVH9sLABuacUBAmqXqYzbfXhj-EiyRDNH_DGKSsGdiJyFYdlLzg1oazh-Ru_0eHCnK_FElrgPh4gzK9tSM0i1Hp4HgsJ4ICC-33RNXlu0Yj0MwX47lo4WMjQtO7sKSU4fqs0Nelz0weLbhlQkXBc22fAOvneBzMacU=w167-h200" width="167" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Elizabeth, Lady Amherst<br />by Reynolds, 1767<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">The estates of Rudby and Skutterskelfe came to Elizabeth after her mother's death. She was by then about sixty years old. In 1767 when she was 27, she was married to a 50 year old widower, Jeffery Amherst. He was made a peer in 1776, becoming 1st Baron Amherst. While commander of the army during the Seven Years' War (1756-63), he wanted to exterminate the Native American tribes that opposed the British and supported the policy of infecting them with smallpox. In his later years, he was commander-in-chief of the army and was criticised for allowing it to go into decline and for refusing to give up his position until nearly senile. He had no children, so on his death in 1797 at the age of 80 it was his great-nephew who inherited his title. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Elizabeth, Lady Amherst died in London in 1830 aged 90, and was buried at Sevenoaks where she and her husband had lived. Her father had bought Skutterskelfe when she was 16 years old and she must have known the area well. She was particularly fond of a hawthorn tree at Tame Bridge on the road to Stokesley and had it protected by a railing, while the size of her legacy to her gardener shows how keen she was on her gardens and hothouses. She left her estates to a young relative, Lucius Bentinck Cary.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Besides the tablet to her mother, Elizabeth had also erected a memorial to Lucius Bentinck Cary's parents and his sister Emma. His father was Charles John Cary, 9th Viscount Falkland. He was a Naval captain and a friend of the poet Lord Byron. He died in 1809 aged 40, two days after he was fatally wounded in a duel, the result of a quarrel with another man while both were the worst for drink. He left a young widow Christiana and four children – his heir, Lucius, was only 6 years old. Unfortunately, Christiana became obsessed with Lord Byron and harassed him with letters until he had to put the matter into the hands of his solicitors. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Christiana died when her son Lucius was 19 years old. He served for a time as Captain in the 7th Foot Regiment but when he was 27 he inherited Rudby and Skutterskelfe from Elizabeth Lady Amherst. This was a piece of great good fortune as his title had brought him little by way of money. A month or two later, immediately after Christmas 1830, he married Amelia Fitzclarence in the Brighton Pavilion in the presence of her father the King.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiCWuBRARwr6_EwNXx4oYxHQnbJwF4hlKnpIfymzWPTT3vPRwJHuKnP283UrZignsJnQrwxOVDLnlErsWUsxWIPe1VJL5-zGRQPaVyFdJso_ugG1gfmSjMg23adImyqcz_oFZ1D-OUpDENeWVRSZxFs-NiYga5vzB9l0lPix-nvEbiLpGWGAW2h9vR=s734" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="614" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiCWuBRARwr6_EwNXx4oYxHQnbJwF4hlKnpIfymzWPTT3vPRwJHuKnP283UrZignsJnQrwxOVDLnlErsWUsxWIPe1VJL5-zGRQPaVyFdJso_ugG1gfmSjMg23adImyqcz_oFZ1D-OUpDENeWVRSZxFs-NiYga5vzB9l0lPix-nvEbiLpGWGAW2h9vR=w168-h200" width="168" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Amelia Fitzclarence (1807-58)<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table>Amelia was the youngest of the ten children of the actress Dorothy Jordan and William Duke of Clarence, son of King George III and brother of King George IV. Amelia was too young to know the happy family life that Dora and William had once enjoyed. Her mother was so short of money that she had to go back onto the stage when Amelia was a baby, and she died when Amelia was 11. The Fitzclarence children were in a difficult position, socially. Their mother, a fine actress, was illegitimate herself and had several illegitimate children before she became the Duke of Clarence's mistress and gave birth to Amelia, her brothers and sisters.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">After King George IV's only child Princess Charlotte died in childbirth in 1817, a crisis in the monarchy loomed. If one of his brothers couldn't produce an heir, the crown would pass to a distant relative. The unmarried brothers had to find wives. Amelia's father William made a marriage that was suitable for a Royal duke and married a German princess, Adelaide. In her, his daughters found a truly kind stepmother but there was to be no heir to the throne – Adelaide's two daughters died within weeks of birth. In 1830 George IV died, and William and Adelaide became king and queen.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><p>Soon after Amelia's marriage to Lucius Cary, Lucius came north to mortgage his new estates and arrange for Leven Grove, Lady Amherst's house at Skutterskelfe, to be demolished and a new mansion house built to the design of the architect Anthony Salvin. He and Amelia were not to live in their beautiful new house for long. When her father died in 1837 and his niece Victoria became queen, Lucius Cary took up the posts of Governor of Nova Scotia and then of Bombay. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRQPQb2mXTqkRWuUr2hMbD_h51XXxWt8kasj0x1x7FSJH7aS7yXSrSy9C8eI2OEjuhva2xFveWpGDo_HkygeeGlnZaArSGOTP82DfruIp0J_Xxt180NRS5H314AhhyJQSPFC96iLpyqotmnsCmnT96s90VNtsKw8At3_gtjFJwa9JT6kNw6yqPoBj0=s594" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="594" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRQPQb2mXTqkRWuUr2hMbD_h51XXxWt8kasj0x1x7FSJH7aS7yXSrSy9C8eI2OEjuhva2xFveWpGDo_HkygeeGlnZaArSGOTP82DfruIp0J_Xxt180NRS5H314AhhyJQSPFC96iLpyqotmnsCmnT96s90VNtsKw8At3_gtjFJwa9JT6kNw6yqPoBj0=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Skutterskelfe Hall, designed by Salvin</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">In 1857 Amelia published <i>Chow-chow: Being selections from a Journal Kept in India, Egypt and Syria</i>. It's a lively and attractive account of her travels in the East and it can be read online today. On 2 July 1858, she died in London at the age of 55 after a short illness. She had particularly wished to be buried in the churchyard in Hutton Rudby. Her body was brought north by special train and on 10 July she was buried in a vault on the south side of the churchyard. A great number of people attended the funeral. The Rev Robert Joseph Barlow spoke her eulogy: </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;"><blockquote style="text-align: justify;">"no one was too lowly for her to address, no one was too much despised by the world for her to stoop to and think of. Her fervent charity, embracing the wants of all, was limited only by the extent of her ability." </blockquote></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">He was much moved himself and many of his listeners were in tears.</span></div><p>In November the following year, Viscount Falkland remarried. His new wife Elizabeth was the daughter of General Joseph Gubbins and the widow of the Duke of St Albans. They lived in the south of France, possibly because it was cheaper, and he died there in 1884 at the age of eighty. His only son died childless, so his brother Plantagenet Pierrepont Cary came into the title. He was already an old man. He had entered the navy at the age of fourteen and served in the Burmese war, rising finally to Admiral in 1870. Naval prize money may have come his way and he married a very wealthy woman, so he left a substantial estate. He died childless in 1886 and on his death his nephew Byron Plantagenet Cary became the 12th Viscount Falkland – and, by his uncle's Will, came into much-needed funds.</p><p>Byron Plantagenet Cary (1845-1922) had entered the army at eighteen and served twenty years, chiefly with the 35th Foot, before retiring in 1883 with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He married a petite and energetic American heiress in 1879, and for a few years in the 1890s he and his young family lived at Skutterskelfe Hall. During that time they were generous and active in village affairs. There is no memorial to the 12th Viscount in the church although he was a churchwarden here for a while, because the financial difficulties caused by the business failure of his father-in-law Robert Reade of New York obliged him to sell his northern estates in about 1895. </p><p>Skutterskelfe and Rudby were bought by Sir Robert Ropner, whose descendants were benefactors of the church and village until after the Second World War.</p><div><br style="text-align: left;" /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1939236278497057688.post-24428438531210620322022-01-01T08:00:00.000+00:002022-01-01T08:00:00.186+00:00More on Guisborough's link to Lewis Carroll's Alice<p style="text-align: justify;">In September, I picked up once more the story of <a href="https://northyorkshirehistory.blogspot.com/2021/09/henry-savile-clarke-of-guisborough.html" target="_blank">Henry Savile Clarke of Guisborough & Lewis Carroll's Alice</a>.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I mentioned in the piece Clare Imholtz' fascinating article on the child actress Phoebe Carlo. She played Alice in the original production of Henry Savile Clarke's adaptation of the books for the musical stage.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Clare gave a talk at the Lewis Carroll Society of North America's (virtual) meeting in Autumn 2021. It's entitled '<a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLfpLgx7_GKiwmaR_Hzr3kN4o7POo6aT07" target="_blank">Alice Takes to the Stage: Carroll’s Letters to Henry Savile Clarke</a>' and that link will take you to the talk on youtube.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It's a real treat and I enjoyed it so much.</p><div style="text-align: justify;">Poor Henry Savile Clarke! I hadn't realised that writing the drama and collaborating with the composer was only the beginning of his labours. He was caught between the power of the theatre managers and Lewis Carroll's rather demanding – increasingly demanding! – requirements. No easy task.</div>Alice Barriganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04259002618360924930noreply@blogger.com0