Showing posts with label Penrith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Penrith. Show all posts

Friday 15 April 2022

Thomas Barlow Allinson writes a letter: 1836

Thomas Barlow Allinson's letter of 1836 was among the small collection mentioned in The Revd William Atkinson of Kirkleatham & Cambridge (1755-1830). 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.

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.

I'm quoting below from a transcript and I have made some alterations for readability's sake.

It's a story which begins with Dickensian echoes and goes to darker places …

Billiter Square: O.S. 1840s-1860s.  National Library of Scotland

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.

Thomas is only a few months younger than Charles Dickens, who is now beginning his startling career as a writer – the first instalment of The Pickwick Papers 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 Bleak House is the one that Thomas knew.

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.

Saturday 1 May 2021

12. From Alice Wandesford's marriage to the return of the King: 1651-1660

At Hipswell, 23 year old Christopher Wandesford was now head of the family.  He followed the custom of the time – there was a contract of marriage to fulfil and he took his brother's place.  So, on 30 September 1651 at Lowther, Christopher married the 18 year old Eleanor Lowther.  The result for Alice, John and their mother was years of trouble over money, to their lasting detriment.  Christopher, Alice said, was of too good a nature and too inexperienced to realise how he was being manipulated by his new father-in-law Sir John Lowther into denying them their money under their father's Will.  

Alice's brother John was now seventeen.  A pious, learned and quick-witted boy, sweet and affectionate in nature, he had been at Christ's College, Cambridge for two years.  Now, partly from grief at George's death and partly from the grief he felt because Christopher was refusing to pay him his annuity, he fell into a deep melancholy that, said Alice, took away the use of his understanding.  He had to leave Cambridge without taking his degree.  

Over the following years, with infinite care and pains, Mrs Wandesford nursed him back to health but he was very liable to relapses, so she was very anxious when he was persuaded to go and live in London.  Luckily she was able to secure for him the help and care of Dr Bathurst, whose renown had grown since the days when he had treated Christopher – indeed, he had become Oliver Cromwell's physician.  

Meanwhile, Mrs Wandesford grew increasingly anxious to see her daughter married and she really had nobody to advise her – how she must have wished for her brother Sir Edward Osborne.  On the whole, she still wanted the match with William Thornton, even though she was disobliging several wealthy neighbours who had also approached her – Colonel Anstruther and Colonel Darcy, son of Lord Darcy, among them.  And she had her doubts about the real value of Mr Thornton's estate. 

Alice was now 25.  She really wanted to stay single and felt that the money left her by her father should be quite enough for her to be comfortable and useful.  But she also didn't want to disobey her mother and she had been willing to marry Mr Thornton so as to help the family discharge the sequestration.  

Now she had to decide whether to go ahead with the marriage or not.  It was a hard choice and it wasn't just a question of money.  On the one hand and very much in his favour, William Thornton was a quiet, decent man, esteemed in his own neighbourhood.  He was not debauched and irreligious, like so many men that she knew.  (She doesn't say whether these included Colonel Anstruther and Colonel Darcy).  On the other hand, his religious background was not at all like her own.  His half-sisters were all Catholics – strict papists, Alice said – while the other part of his family were strong Presbyterians and Parliamentarians.  

Alice spoke to him frankly.  She said that she was of the true protestant Church of England and they would be miserable together if he wasn't of the same faith.  He was seriously troubled at this, but then he declared that he shared her opinion.  He wanted bishops – suitably reformed – back and he too wanted a King.  And she could bring the children up in her faith entirely as she wished.  And so she decided that the money was of less importance and she would accept his offer.

At last the marriage contract was negotiated and on 15 December 1651 at Hipswell Hall, Mrs Wandesford gave her daughter in marriage to 27 year old William Thornton of East Newton, which lies a little east of Oswaldkirk and about 5 miles SSW of Helmsley.  

Mr Syddall, the vicar of Catterick, took the marriage service.  Alice's brother John was there, and so was her uncle Mauger Norton of St Nicholas, and their kinsman John Dodsworth of Thornton Watlass Hall near Masham, whose son Timothy had been a confidential servant to her father in Dublin.  William Thornton's uncle Francis Darley had come to be a witness from his estates at Buttercrambe, eight miles north-east of York.  Six of her mother's servants saw Alice married, and she listed them: Dafeny Lightfoote, in whose arms her sister Catherine had died; Ralfe Ianson, who was with her when she escaped drowning in the Swale; George Lightfoote; Robert Webster; Martha Richison; and Robert Loftus the elder.

That very day Alice fell suddenly ill with violent vomiting and sickness.  She thought it might have been because she took cold the night before, when she stayed up late to make her preparations for the wedding, but her mother thought it was because she had also washed her feet – quite the wrong time of year for such a procedure.  She made a full recovery and seven weeks later she conceived.

For the first weeks, before the babe quickened in her womb and she could feel it moving, she was very poorly but afterwards she was strong and healthy.  So when she was seven months pregnant, she was content to go with her husband to visit his family and friends.  

At the end of their visit, they set off from Mr Thornton's estate at East Newton to Osgodby Hall at Thirkleby, the home of his brother-in-law Sir William Ayscough.  William Thornton had been advised to take the road across the moors from Sproxton towards Hambleton.  He hadn't been warned that they would come to the top of Sutton Bank and that Alice would have to clamber down it herself – it was about a mile, Alice said, steep down.  Perhaps the path for horses was too steep and dangerous for them to be able to carry riders and especially a heavily-pregnant pillion passenger.  

Narrow steps were cut into the steep bank, but Alice was so big with child that she could hardly find a footing.  She had only her maid to help her – everyone else had gone on ahead – and her maid was having difficulty herself.  Each step strained Alice a great deal.  At last she was safe at the bottom, tired, hot and weary, feeling unwell, and troubled with pain.  She was troubled with pains all the way home and within a fortnight was in a desperate fever and was ill for some time.  The babe within her finally grew so weak that all movement stopped.  On 27 August 1652 her baby daughter was born, and died within the hour before they could get a clergyman to baptise her.  She was buried that night at Easby church beside the River Swale.

And this was the beginning of many griefs and joys for Alice.  She loved her children deeply, breastfed them joyously and looked after them lovingly – but she lost six children at birth or in infancy and only three grew to adulthood.  Her accounts of their illnesses and deaths are heart-rending.

Death & Change: 1651-1660

The first eight years of Alice's marriage were spent at Hipswell Hall with Mrs Wandesford, while extensive building work was being done to the old family manor house of the Thorntons at East Newton.  

So Alice and William were at Hipswell when in 1653 Parliament appointed Oliver Cromwell to be Lord Protector of the Commonwealth for life – he was king in all but name and he was addressed as Your Highness.  

Oliver Cromwell

They were at Hipswell in 1655 when, after failed uprisings by English and Scottish Royalists, Cromwell put England under martial law to bring about a godly, righteous country.  His Rule of the Major-Generals meant a repressive regime of high taxation and moral improvement – no horse racing, stage plays, fairs, cock-fighting, bear-baiting, no drunkenness, sexual licence, blasphemy or swearing.  It last fifteen unpopular months.  

The 1650s passed and everyday life went on.  During those years, Alice bore five children – four daughters and a son.  Only two of her daughters, Alice – who was always known as Naly (which must be pronounced Nallie, like Allie today) – and Katherine survived.  And through these difficult years, she found great comfort in the presence of her beloved mother, who was truly generous to them.  

Mrs Wandesford was a notable housewife.  She kept within her means but she still managed to achieve, Alice said, a noble, handsome manner of living.  She paid all Alice and William's expenses – christenings, burials, nurses, men servants and maids – and she bore the cost of entertaining and welcoming their friends as well as her own.  

She also took care of their medical bills.  These included a trip to Copgrove, a few miles south-west of Boroughbridge, to see if immersions in St Mungo's Well would cure Alice's baby Betty of the rickets.  Sadly, the holy well had no effect and at the beginning of September 1656 little Betty died.  She was, Alice wrote, aged one year, six months and twenty-one days.  She was buried the same day at Catterick by Mr Syddall.  He was buried there himself sixteen months later, having died of a malignant consumption before his fiftieth birthday. 

New upheavals in the country followed Oliver Cromwell's death on 3 September 1658.  Now his son Richard was Lord Protector.  1659 was a year of chaos.  Tumbledown Dick, as people called Richard, couldn't keep the Puritan factions together.  Who would seize control of power?  The country was gripped by uncertainty and fear.

By August 1659, Alice's mother and husband were getting very alarmed by her health.  On the doctor's advice, William took Alice to Scarborough Spa to drink the waters.  The cure worked – which was very fortunate as, after a month, a message came from Hipswell.  Mrs Wandesford was very poorly with her old ailment, the stone, and she wanted Alice home.  So they set off back, stopping at Crathorne on the way to see William's half-sister Margaret, who had married Ralph Crathorne of Crathorne – that side of William's family were all Catholics, as were the Crathornes.  There, to Alice's joy, a servant from Hipswell met them with the news that Mrs Wandesford was much recovered.  The good news was followed by the realisation that she was pregnant again, and her husband and mother began to hope that this time it might be a son.

But on 17 November 1659 Mrs Wandesford fell ill.  They tried all the remedies that they could.  They managed to relieve a pain in her side with poultices of fried oats, butter and chopped camomile, but her condition grew more distressing and she grew steadily weaker.  

On Thursday 8 December, she sent for Alice, William and the children so that she could bless them and say goodbye.  Alice was about five months pregnant.  She was distraught at seeing her mother in such terrible suffering and she couldn't bear to lose her.  They had been companions through so many trials and griefs and she had been able to rely on her mother's strength and support all her life.  Mrs Wandesford said to her, 

Dear child, why will you not be willing to part with me to God?  Has he not lent me to be a comfort to you long enough?  

And she urged Alice to let her go.  

You never have been disobedient to me in all your life – I pray thee obey me in this.  

She blessed them and Alice took "the saddest last leave of my dear and honoured mother as ever a child did."  

Two days later, Mrs Wandesford saw her sister-in-law Anne Norton and her husband Mauger.  There had always been a strict league of affection and friendship, Alice remembered, between the two women.  Now they said their last goodbye.  She commended her children to the care of Mauger Norton and she died later that day, Saturday 10 December 1659.  Dafeny Lightfoote had been beside her through her illness and was among those who were with her at the end.

On the Tuesday, her body was carried out of the house by Conyers, Lord Darcy and Conyers together with his son Colonel Darcy and son-in-law Sir Christopher Wyvill and other kinsmen of the Wandesford family.  Then her tenants took her from Hipswell Green to Catterick, where nine of the neighbouring clergy, men chosen in advance by Mrs Wandesford herself, carried her into the parish church.  After the service and sermon, they laid her in her grave in the south aisle, which was the Hipswell aisle, and a charitable dole was distributed among a very great number of the poor inside the church and at the door.

St Anne's, Catterick.  [By Alison Stamp CC BY-SA 2.0]

Alice and her daughter Naly later had a blue marble slab laid in Catterick church to mark Mrs Wandesford's resting place; it was destroyed in a 19th century restoration.  

Charles II returns & Alice leaves Richmondshire: 1660

By the time of Mrs Wandesford's funeral, the political chaos meant that there was hardly anybody to mind if nine Anglican clergymen officiated at a funeral in Catterick.  General George Monck, the commander of Scotland, had already crossed the border into Northumberland and made his HQ at Coldstream.  And all people wanted was for the uncertainty to stop. 

General George Monck (1608-70)

On New Year's Day 1660, Monck marched his army south.  Within three months, he was in secret negotiation with Charles II in his exile and on 25 May 1660 Charles landed at Dover.  On 29 May – his thirtieth birthday – he entered London to great rejoicing.  To everyone's relief and to the joy of Royalists, the chaotic uncertainty of the last months had ended.  

Charles II in coronation robes

After Mrs Wandesford's death, Alice and William stayed on at Hipswell Hall for a while, kept there by bitter winter weather and Alice's weak and grieving state.  

In March, they took her to her Aunt Norton's at St Nicholas, and in April her baby was born there, after a hard labour.  He was a pretty babe and suckling well but then grew ill and restless and red round spots like smallpox appeared on his face.  He died at a fortnight old and was buried in the same grave at Easby as his eldest sister, Alice's first child. 

On 10 June 1660, when Alice was strong again, she and William and their two little girls left St Nicholas to move to a house that William owned in Oswaldkirk.  And so she left Richmondshire, her own dear country and dear friends and relations, parting from them with a sad heart.

Next:  13. Mrs Alice Thornton of East Newton: 1660-1707

10. The Man of Blood & the English Republic: 1648-1650

 In the early days of 1648 news would come to Hipswell of rebellions and fighting.  The Christmas riots were turning into rebellions, Royalists in Wales had risen, Royalist commanders had taken Berwick and Carlisle and the fleet had mutinied.  

In the very cold, wet weeks of July 1648, the people of Teesdale and Richmondshire realised fighting was coming closer to home.  A Scottish army had crossed into England on 8 July and was quartered at Penrith and Appleby, waiting for reinforcements.  And this time they had invaded to support the King – and this time he had agreed, after secret negotiations with one of the Scottish factions, that he would impose Presbyterianism on the English if they would put him back on his throne.  Finally he had his army – Scots, English and Welsh Royalists, Scots Covenanters and some English Presbyterians.

When this was realisesd, what were people to think?  It must have been baffling and unsettling.  The King's attempt to impose his Anglicanism on the Presbyterian Scots had started the wars in the first place, all those years ago.  For the Wandesfords, their Anglican religion and their King were inseparable and they longed to be rid of the Presbyterian minister forced on them at Kirklington.  Did the King mean to keep his word to the Scots?  And if he didn't, what would happen?

Sir Thomas Danby had given his word not to take up arms against Parliament when he got his sequestered estates back, so for him and men like him the only honourable option was to stay at home and await events.  George Wandesford had a choice.  His property was still sequestered and he had made no promise.  But he decided not to risk his family's safety and security to join with a Scottish army – the last people he would have wanted to join and possibly the very men who had been quartered on them at Hipswell – for a possibly doomed attempt at defeating Parliament.

Then a Parliamentary army of 4,000 men under the able and decisive young Major-General John Lambert of Kirkby Malhamdale arrived to garrison Barnard Castle.  They were waiting to meet the Scots, expecting them to cross Stainmore on their way to Pontefract Castle, which Royalists had retaken for the king.  

General John Lambert (1619-84)

But there was no sign of the Scots – they had moved south, not east.  And their timing was all wrong – the rebellions and the invasion hadn't coincided.  By the time the Scots set off towards Cheshire, Oliver Cromwell had taken the surrender of Pembroke Castle and was on his way north.   General Lambert marched his men south and met Cromwell at Wetherby.  They now had about 9,000 men, half the strength of the Royalists.

The weather was terrible, the armies made slow progress.  The Scots were short of supplies and they were getting no reinforcements from the English as they passed.  Cromwell crossed the Pennines via Skipton at speed and, catching the Royalists by surprise, he took Preston.  After grim fighting for two hours, his men drove across the Ribble bridge at push of pike, driving the Scots from the bridge over the River Darwen soon after.  In wind and driving rain, the Scots continued south in the mud, exhausted and demoralised.  Wigan, the town that had welcomed the Wandesfords so kindly in 1643, was plundered violently by hungry Scots soldiers, even though it had always been a Royalist town.  Their goal had been Warrington, where they hoped for reinforcements from Cheshire and Wales.  Their attempt ended instead on 19 August with surrender and imprisonment for many, escape for some – and execution for their commander, the Duke of Hamilton.  

Charles I at his trial

The attempt to restore Charles to the throne had failed.  Now the radicals in power in the Army and Parliament had run out of options with him.  The King – that Man of Blood, as they called him – had brought Scottish troops into England and set off another civil war.  More death, more destruction.  His slipperiness and dubious intrigues made further negotiations impossible.  They put him on trial for high treason as an enemy of the people.  And now he rose to the occasion – never in his life had he behaved with such quiet dignity.  The outcome was a foregone conclusion.  He was declared guilty and 59 of the 68 commissioners who sat in judgement signed the death warrant – one of them was Thomas Chaloner of Guisborough.  

Charles was executed on 30 January 1649 in Whitehall, on a scaffold outside the Banqueting House where the glorious ceilings he had commissioned Rubens to paint celebrated the belief in the Divine Rule of Kings that he and his father had held so dear.  

The execution of Charles I

The shock to his supporters was dreadful.  The Annointed of the Lord, the Joy of our hearts, the light of our eyes had been cruelly murdered, wrote Alice, by blasphemous rebels.  And not just to his supporters – the execution of the king by an army faction was deeply unsettling and at the moment of his death, when a groan went up from the silent watchers, the cult of King Charles the Martyr was born.

Note

This was the end of the Second Civil War, 1648

The English Republic and the invasion of Scotland: 1650

England was now a republic and soon Parliament declared it was a Commonwealth – the traditional word for a community founded on the common good of all.  But they had executed the king without consulting the Scottish parliament, and Charles was not only king of England but king of the Scots as well.  Within days of the execution, the Scots proclaimed his son as King.  

While Oliver Cromwell crushed radical mutinies in the army and crossed to Ireland to subdue it with the utmost brutality, the new king Charles II – not yet nineteen years old – went into an alliance with the Scottish Presbyterians, promising, like his father before him, to impose Presbyterianism on the English.  

Charles II c1650,
by Adriaen Hanneman

Now the English Council of State decided to preempt a Scottish invasion by invading Scotland.  

In the middle of July 1650, a large army of some 15,000 men marched through Yorkshire on its way to Durham.  It reached Berwick-upon-Tweed on 19 July.  Oliver Cromwell was in command.  It was another particularly wet, cold summer, and the Scottish commander hoped that sickness and hunger would wear the English down, so he destroyed all the crops and removed all the livestock between the border and Edinburgh.  

Cromwell began by trying to persuade the Scots that young Charles was not a fitting king for them – they were beginning to have their doubts about this charismatic and dashing young man, but Charles was ready to promise them anything and they were not to be persuaded by an invading English general.  It looked as though the Scottish army would succeed triumphantly, but in heavy rain, in sodden fields, it went down to a crushing and surprising defeat at the Battle of Dunbar on 3 September 1650.  It was Cromwell's greatest victory.  

On Christmas Eve, Edinburgh surrendered to Cromwell.  On New Year's Day 1651, the Scots crowned Charles II at Scone in Perthshire.  

Note: the Scottish prisoners in Durham Cathedral

Cromwell was left with a lot of prisoners on his hands after the Battle of Dunbar and he wanted to advance further into Scotland.  He sent 3,900 of them south.  By the time they reached Durham, after an eight day march, some had escaped, some had been shot, and some had died of disease.  The rest – 3,000 of them – were locked inside the disused cathedral at Durham because it was the only place big enough to take them and the Parliamentarians didn't think of churches as sacred spaces anyway.  Conditions got out of control when the bloody flux – dysentery – took hold, and 1,600 were dead within six weeks.  Of the rest, some were sent to work in Sir Arthur Haselrigge's coal mines and in local industry, and some were sent at indentured servants to Massachusetts.  The last were set free in July 1652.  Their story was never forgotten in Durham.  It made the news when bodies were discovered in the grounds of the cathedral square in 2013 and again in 2018 when the results of painstaking investigation were published.  See here for a full account.

Next:  11. The wars come to an end: 1651