Sorry, for the lack of posts. New job and general busyness has taken over slightly. Stay tuned though.
I’ll never complain about the A1 again! This description of the Great North Road was written in July 1888 and published in Volume 2 of the Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend.
Description of this famous highway, so far as concerns that part of it which runs from Newcastle to Morpeth, was included in a little work of mine, the “History of Gosforth,” which was published a few years ago.
The Great North Road has been from time immemorial a portion of the principal highway from the English metropolis to the capital of Scotland. What manner of road it was in the reigns of the Plantagenets and Tudors we do not know. Down to the beginning of last century it was probably not much better than a country lane — a rough kind of causeway, hard enough in summer, but full of ruts and puddles in the winter. Most of the main arteries of traffic in this country were then of that character, for travelling was the luxury — if it could be called a luxury — of the wealthy few, and good roads were not in extensive demand.
But, whatsoever may have been the condition of the road, we know that as far back as the time of the Commonwealth stage coaches were running upon it. In the year that Cromwell died a coach left London every Monday for Newcastle, and every alternate Monday it went on to Edinburgh; the journey to Newcastle occupying six and to Edinburgh seven days — thirteen in all This arrangement continued, with intermissions, for nearly a hundred years; the road undergoing no improvement, but becoming; through the increased traffic, worse and worse. In 1712 the coach running as above was advertised in this quaint manner:
All that desire to pass from Edinburgh to London, or from London to Edinburgh, or any place on that road let them repair to Mr. John Baillies’ at the Coach and Horses at the Head of the Cannongate, Edinburgh, every other Saturday, or to the Black Swan, in Holborn, every other Monday, at both of which places they may be received in a Stage Coach, which performs the whole journey in thirteen days without any stoppage (if God permit), having eighty able homes to perform the whole stage. Each passenger paying £4 10s. for the whole journey, allowing each passenger 20 lbs. weight, and all above to pay 6d. per pound. The coach sets off at six in the morning. Performed by Henry Harrison, Mich. Speight, Robt. Qarbe, Rich. Croft.
This coach ran till 1729, and then, so far as the Edinburgh portion of the journey is concerned, it was discontinued till 1763. Then it started afresh, and went from the Bull and Postboy in the Bigg Market, Newcastle, every Monday, by Morpeth and Wooler to Kelso, where passengers slept, arriving at Edinburgh the next day. On Saturdays it left Edinburgh, remaining all night at Wooler, and arrived in Newcastle on Sunday afternoons. Eight years afterwards it ran thrice a week, leaving Newcastle at five, and Edinburgh at six a.m., on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. In 1784, the Newcastle starting place was the Turk’s Head, and it ran as a diligence six days a week. A couple of years later two other conveyances ran from Newcastle to Edinburgh, staying at Berwick all night, coming and returning. One of them was a coach from the White Hart; the other a diligence from the Queen’s Head. The first mail coach from Newcastle to Edinburgh left the Cock Inn, head of the Side, November 27th, 1786. It was afterwards taken to the Queen’s Head, and finally ceased to run in 1847. It is stated that, in the opinion of the old drivers, the coldest part of the journey was the Town Moor of Newcastle, at the Blue House.
About this time the question of road improvement was pressing to the front. Marshal Wade was doing wonders in road construction away up in the Highlands, carriages with springs were becoming common, and everybody saw that the only drawback to comfortable and expeditious travelling throughout England was the deplorable condition of the public highways. Around the metropolis, and in the Southern Counties, road improvements were being effected, but nothing was done to the Great North Road until the rebellion of 1745 broke out. That abortive insurrection brought Marshal Wade to Newcastle. The great road maker experienced some difficulty in dragging his guns over the miserable highways of the Northern Counties, and the justice of his complaints and remonstrances met with a frank acknowledgment from the local authorities both in town and country. They had heard of the marshal’s doings in Scotland; they were acquainted with his extraordinary success in road construction — success so great that an enthusiastic Irish ensign said or sung;
Had you seen these roads before they were made,
You’d have held up your hands and blessed General Wade
— and they were quite prepared to take action.
The marshal was probably supported in his demand for better highways by the Duke of Cumberland, who on the 27th January, 1746 was obliged to leave his coach-and-six somewhere north of Durham and enter Newcastle on horseback. However that may be, it is certain that, as soon as the rebellion was crushed, plans of road improvement in both Northumberland and Durham were formed, and almost immediately put into execution.
In December, 1745, the grand jury, clergy, and free holders of Northumberland, represented to Parliament that the North Road, by reason of the heavy and increasing traffic, had become so deep and ruinous that travellers could not pass along it without danger. Parliament listened favourably to these representations, and a scheme was promoted for putting the road into an efficient state of repair and maintaining it in that condition. Nor were the town authorities idle. A portion of the road belonged to the Corporation of Newcastle, and an advertisement appeared in July, 1747, inviting proposals for making a carriage way from the Barras Bridge through the Town Moor to the north end of the Cow Causey, “to be eleven yards in breadth, and to be ballasted in the same manner as a turnpike road.” Parliament, the same year, passed the first Turnpike Act granted to Northumberland. By that Act authority was given to repair the road from Cow Causey to Buckton Burn, near Belford, and a body of trustees was created to carry out the improvement. The Corporation finished their part of the work in 1749, and did it very well. The trustees were not so expeditious, or else they did their portion badly, for in 1765, eighteen years after the Act was passed, one of the Edinburgh waggons “in one place opposite to Gosforth proved an overmatch to nineteen good horses.”
The Turnpike Trust thus created was renewed from time to time and ultimately expired in 1875, when Gosforth Gate and its modern associate at the borough boundary were removed, and the maintenance of the great highway fell upon the local authorities along its course. “The glory of the North Road,” writes Mr. John Hodgson Hinde, in the “Archaologia Aeliana,” “was no doubt the posting. On other roads the coaches were all as well, in some even better appointed, and speed greater; but nowhere could you drive up to an inn door with the certainty that as you drew up a relay of horses with mounted postboys would issue from the yard, and that one minute’s delay was all that was required to replace the steeds that had brought you twelve miles within the hour by a fresh team to carry you forward at the same rate.”
Those who travelled from Newcastle by the Great North Road when news of the battle of Waterloo sent a thrill through the nation saw before them, as they crossed the little bridge at the end of the Town Moor, an almost uninterrupted line of small meadows on the one hand, and cultivated fields on the other stretching away north to Wideopen. On the right of the bridge, in the hollow, was a small landsale coal pit; close by it Roseworth Cottage, and beyond it the church and farmstead; while on the other side were Coxlodge Hall, the Grand Stand, with the Water Company’s Mill spinning merrily round beside it; the Yellow House, or farm; Kenton Lodge, and, in the distance, the village of Kenton. The first roadside buildings in the parish were the engine shaft, the farm, and the group of cottages on the left at Causey End. A couple of hundred yards further on the coach “bumped” over Kenton and Coxlodge waggonway and past the Corving House, with the work of corf making proceeding briskly under the eye of Anderson, the master corver. More fields, then Gosforth Turnpike Gate, with Gosforth Cottage, closely adjoining it. Presently the coach rolled round the corner into Three Mile Bridge, and if the time of day was suitable the passengers caught a glimpse of stout John Maguey and his forge, and Thomas Morrow at his bench, with Pigg’s Folly between, and so, through Low and High Gosforth plantations, the coach left the parish and rattled on to Wideopen.
Such was the aspect of the North Road in 1815, and for ten years afterwards. But between 1825 and 1830 a change was effected. Three Mile Bridge, a narrow structure, with a recess in which pedestrians sheltered themselves from being crushed by passing vehicles, was taken down and replaced by a skew bridge — the object being to widen the thoroughfare at that point, and, by straightening the road, to avoid the awkward turn into the hamlet. This was the first skew bridge attempted in Northumberland, and the County Surveyor, Mr. Gibson Kyle, of Ponteland, was unfortunate enough to see his work give way and threaten to collapse. However, by calling in Mr. Edward Chapman, of Newcastle, and using brick for the arch instead of stone, the bridge, as we know it, was completed. About the same time, the two lodges and gateway which formed the entrance to Gosforth House about a hundred yards south of the fourth milestone were removed, and there was constructed, further north, the present “grand entrance,” with a pair of magnificent gates made of hammered iron, by Elliot, of Newcastle. As soon as the bridge was finished the entrance to Low Gosforth House was removed some distance south, and the fine wall was built that separates the two parks from the turnpike.
Presuming the theory to be correct that there has been, ever since the Saxon times, a highway from Newcastle to Edinburgh across the Town Moor, it is easy to imagine that along the North Road through Gosforth must have passed some of the kings, queens, and princes of England and Scotland; and that the industrious peasantry of that parish occasionally obtained glimpses of the English and Scottish courts — first in barbaric pomp, and later on in more civilized splendour.
William the Conqueror came through Newcastle thrice on his way to the North; Rufus was here also; King John several times; Henry III. on a visit to his daughter, who was Queen of Scots; Edwards I., II., and III. often; Henry IV. twice, and Henry VI. and his queen once, with Edward IV. In pursuit of them. Richard Crookback did not favour Gosforth with his ugly features, but his successor, Henry VII., came through the parish in 1487, on a survey of the Northern Counties, and lived in Newcastle several weeks; while in 1502 his eldest daughter, Margaret, travelled in great state along the North Road to her marriage with the unfortunate James IV. of Scotland, who eleven years later lost his life on Flodden Field.
Henry VIII., although he reigned nearly thirty-eight years, does not appear to have travelled so far north, and Edward VI. and Queens Mary and Elizabeth followed his example. But in 1603 James I. was here on his way to the English throne, and in 1617 on his way back to visit his Scottish home. Charles I. was here frequently, for himself too often; and Oliver Cromwell went backwards and forwards, receiving “great acknowledgments of love in Newcastle, and magnificent entertainments from his friend Sir Arthur Haselrigg, the owner of Fawdon. Charles I. never found time, amidst the dissipations of his court, to visit his Northern subjects, but his brother, the Duke of York, afterwards James II., passed through Gosforth in 1679, on that mournful exile to Scotland with his beautiful consort, Mary of Modena, which Miss Agnes Strickland so pathetically describes in her “Lives of the Queens of England.” We have had some celebrated persons here, such as the Emperor Nicholas of Russia, King Leopold of Belgium, the Dukes of Cumberland, Gloucester. York (2), Sussex, Brunswick, and Connaught, but there has been no reigning English monarch here since the Restoration.
Through Gosforth came, in all probability, the first postal arrangement, viz., that system of conveying news by fleet horses, stabled twenty miles apart, which Edward IV. established in 1481 to obtain news of his wars in Scotland. Down to the times of the Stuarts this “saddle horse poet” galloped backwards and forwards along the Great North Road, accompanied at intervals by special messengers bearing decrees of life and death, and ordinances of state that concerned the peace and happiness of two great kingdoms. Such a messenger was the flying horseman who, in the evening of Lady Day, 1603, some one in Gosforth may have seen, notwithstanding his “sundry shift of horses and some falls that bruised him very sore,” spurring madly away towards Widdrington, bearing to King James of Scotland the news that the sun of the Tudors had set for ever, and that he was sole ruler of the English as well as of the Scottish nation.
Through Gosforth came the old stage wagon, jolting along the road, with its burden of letters appealing in vain “Haste! post! haste!” to a lumbering vehicle that crawled onward at the rate of four miles per hour. And by and by came the stage coach, rattling over the ground as fast as the roads would allow — so fast indeed that, as we have seen in 1658, to the amazement of all the world and Gosforth, it went from London to Edinburgh in one day less than a fortnight, and left the old stage wagons hopelessly floundering behind.
Through Gosforth, seated behind the fleetest horses that the livery stables of Newcastle could produce, flew victims of the love that laughs at locksmiths, on their way to Lamberton toll-bar and other temples of Hymen on the Scottish Border. And among them, on the night of the 18th November, 1772, were John Scott, the coalfitter’s son (destined in after years to become Lord High Chancellor of England), and Bessie Surtees, the banker’s daughter, the future Countess of Eldon.
Through Gosforth came, shortly afterwards, the mail coach — long the swiftest medium of travelling in existence. Our forefathers must have looked upon this splendid equipage with wonder and delight. It was to them the great public timekeeper — rivalling the sun in punctuality, and indicating the hour when the sun was hidden by Northumbrian mist and shrouded in Tyneside fog. It was moreover the daily news-bearer from London and Newcastle, from Edinburgh and Berwick. During a time of war, and in the heat of a contested election, we can imagine the excitement at Gosforth Gate as the coach dashed past, dropping messages respecting the fortunes of the combatants to an eager crowd; and we can picture the struggle among lads from Benton in the east and Kenton in the west to be first at home with the news.
Last of all came the iron horse. And if Gosforth was not the cradle of the locomotive, it was, on the 2nd September, 1813, the scene of an interesting experiment with one. For, on that date, a steam engine constructed by a Leeds firm was placed upon the Kenton and Coxlodge wagon-way. Spectators from far and near had been summoned to see it, and amongst them was George Stephenson, the engineer of Killingworth Colliery. This locomotive was made to work by a cog wheel on toothed rails and drew seventy tons at the rate of nearly three miles an hour. Stephenson is said to have remarked that he thought he could make a better engine than that to go upon legs, and he went back to Killingworth, made travelling by steam a certainty, and removed from our great highway that huge stream of traffic which, steadily growing during a hundred and thirty-five years, formed no inconsiderable part of the daily life and interest of Gosforth parish.
The accompanying map shows that part of the Great North Road, 70 miles long, which, beginning at Chester-in-the-Street, now Chester-le-Street, 268 miles from London, ends at Berwick-upon-Tweed, there written Barwick, 338 miles from the same city. The dotted lines show where the road was unenclosed, running, in fact, over open moors and commons. The only parts shown to have been enclosed, at the time the map was drawn, which, as far as can be ascertained, was about the year 1675, were a couple of miles after leaving Chester-le-Street, about three miles before reaching Morpeth, half a mile or so about Felton, and something like two miles after leaving Alnwick. The rest of the route was through the open country, the greater part of which seems to have been yet in a state of nature, although, of course, there were patches of cultivation here and there; the higher parts were heather-clad; there was little or no wood, except on the banks of the streams; and the remainder of the surface was a by no means rich sheep pasture. Some of the names of the places on or near the road have undergone considerable change during the intervening two centuries; thus the road at the north end of Chester-le-Street, marked as to Whittle, is that which leads to Whitley Green, a small village on the Consbeck which falls into the Wear at Chester. The Streetway leading past Pelo Hall, now Pelaw House, towards Birtley, otherwise Buckley, was part of the old Roman road running from Cataractonium to Pons Aelii. Between Birtley and Gateshead the road is seen to pass over the tops of five hills, on one of which, at a place still called the Beacon Hill, a beacon is shown, designed to be visible over all the surrounding country, to warn the inhabitants in case of invasion, and communicating by a similar light on Warden Law with a beacon on the seashore at Beacon Point, near Hawthorne. The name of the river Tyne has been misspelt by the draughtsman as “Time.” The Blyth he has set down as Bithe. Blagdon, he has converted into Beakedon, and Wansbeck into Wanspeck. We may feel pretty certain from this that he was not a man “to the manor born.” The place where the Ouseburn crosses the road, at the Three Mile Bridge, is shown on the map, but no name is given. Then follows Gosforth village, built on both sides of the road. The crossing at Seaton Burn is likewise marked, and a mile beyond it are Shotton on the right hand and Blagdon on the left side of the road. Stannington is spelt Stainington. A little to the north of Shotton, Plasshey, now Plessy, is shown. This place gave name to the ancient family of Plessis, and was possessed by John de Plessis in the reign of Edward I., at which period it was held by the service of one knight’s fee. Further on is Wanspeck Castle, properly Morpeth Castle. Hebron (written Heborn), with the adjoining townships of Tritlington and Causey, now Causey Park, are set down within a reasonable distance of their proper sites; and Espley is given as Espleby. Causet, we believe, must be a place called Cauldcote-on-the-Moor, south of Felton. Acton, Newton-on-the-Moor, and the Snipe House, are set correctly down; but Rugley, on the skirts of Aydon Forest, is misspelt as Angley. The first trees shown on the map are on both sides of the road in approaching Alnwick. The only other clumps noticed by the map-maker, are on the banks of two rivulets crossed by the road as it proceeds towards Charlton, a little to the right of which place stands Tunston Castle, probably Dunston Hall, but possibly Dunstanborough Castle. Near the 318th milestone, the road to Bamborough, misnamed Barborrow, appears to branch off, and a mile-and-a-half further on that to the village of Newstead, or Newsteed. Then comes Warrenford, misspelt Wainford. Aderdstone, spelt Atherston, the ancient seat of the Forsters, is seen a little farther on, a furlong from the road side. Mowton, now Mousen, is a mile-and-a-half further on, on the opposite side of the road, and near it, before reaching Belford, is a small place called Newlands. Just out of Belford, going northward, a chapel is marked; then comes Middleton, and after it Detchant, given as Dotchen. From Bucton, or Buckton, there is a road to the waterside at Fenham Flatts, which is marked as one-and-a-half miles off. Next comes Fenwick, spelled Famick. Kyloe is given as Hyley. Haggerstone is right spelled; and so is Broomhouse. Brig Mill seems to be Ancroft Mill. Scrimmerston is now known as Scremerston, and is the last station on the North Eastern Railway before reaching Tweedmooth and crossing the Tweed to Berwick. A fac-simile of this map, all mistakes included, was pablished in a series, comprehending the whole route from London to Berwick, in the year 1768.
The following article was published in May 1888 in the Second Volume of the Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend. It tells the story of the origins of the family of George Washington, 1st President of the United States. Most people know there is a link between Washington, Tyne & Wear and the founding father of the USA but it’s interesting to read about the detail. I’ve visited Washington Old Hall (http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/washington-old-hall) numerous times but I didn’t realise how far back the lineage goes. Hope you enjoy this one.
Washington Old Hall
Nations, like individuals, look back to the home of their origin. The Englishman of today peers out of his cloudland, and over the Northern Sea, in search of the shores whence his forefathers came in quest of fortune; and the American of the nineteenth century sends his thoughts out of the New World to the Old, or comes by screw and cabin across the Atlantic, to find, if he may, his ancestral halls. Behind every human heart is the early home of which the poet sings:
In every clime, the magnet of the soul.
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole.
An evidence of this common feeling of our nature occurred some years ago, in the form of an illustrated paper on the “English Home of the Washingtons,” published in Harpers Magazine, The author began with the remark, “Perhaps no place in the ‘old country’ is calculated to be of more interest to Americans than the parish of Brington in Northamptonshire, its old church containing, as it does, memorials the most curious and suggestive of the Washington ancestry; while at Althorp House and the village of Little Brington there are mementoes of the same family no less interesting.”
The church has its inscribed monuments of the Washingtons, and their names are written in the parish register. It is recorded of “Mr. Lawrance Washington,” by the parochial penman, that he was “buried the 15th day of December, 1616”; and in the pavement of the chancel lies a stone slab bearing the inscription: —
Here lieth the body of Lavrence Washington, sonne
and heire of Robert Washington, of Sovlgrave, in the
countie of Northampton, Esquier, who married Margaret,
the eldest daughter of William Butler, of Tees, in the
countie of Sussexe, Esquier, who had issue by her 8 sonns
and 9 daughters; which Lavrence deceased the 13 of De-
cember, A. Dni. 1616.
Those that by chance or choyce of this hath sight,
Know life to death resigns as daye to night;
But as the sonns retorne revives the day.
So Christ shall as, though turnde to dust and clay.
Beneath the inscription are the arms of Lawrence Washington, impaled with those of his wife; and near his memorial, but in the nave, is the brass of his brother Robert, with a family shield “bearing the blazon. Argent, two bars gules, in chief three mullets.” “This Lawrence Washington,” observed the visitor from afar, “was the lineal ancestor, presumably the great-great-grandfather, of George Washington, the first President of the United States.”
The Rev. J. N. Simpkinson, some time rector of Brington, has a theory, we are told, with reference to the settlement of this branch of the Washington family in North Hants, which is a little plausible. He says: — “In the reign of Henry VIII., Lawrence Washington, of Warton in Lancashire, left his native village and settled eventually in the town of Northampton, where he soon obtained the influence and position which an active and acute mind is sure to achieve in times of social and political change. He was a member of the Society of Gray’s Inn, having been there brought up to the profession of the law. It is probable that at the instance of his uncle Kitson” (connected with the Spencer family by the marriage of a daughter), “a merchant of London, he turned his attention to the wool trade, which was rapidly rising to importance in the Midland Counties; and he soon raised himself to such consideration and influence that in 1532 he was elected Mayor.” “The ancestors of these Washingtons were people of position in Lancashire, where they possessed property, and were, it is conjectured by Irving and Sparks, an offshoot of the Washington family of the county of Durham, which became extinct there about the beginning of the fifteenth century.”
One other quotation from the American magazine has reference to the arms of the family, foreshadowing the famous Stars and Stripes of the great Republic of the West. Much doubt there cannot be — if doubt at all — “that the arms of the family, as emblazoned on the tomb-slabs in Brington Church (in the language of heraldry. Argent, two bars gules, in chief three mullets of the second) suggested the Stars and Stripes of the American flag.” “Edmondsley ‘Heraldry’ gives the following as one of the varieties of the armorial bearings of the Washingtons: — ‘In Buckinghaaishire, Kent, Warwickshire, and Northamptonshire, Argent, two bars gules, in chief three mullets of the second: crest, a raven, with wings indorsed proper, issuing out of a ducal coronet, or.’ This was the variety used by General Washington, and is still to be seen attached to the commissions of some of the earlier officers of the Army of Independence. Can any one reasonably doubt that these insignia suggested the Stars and Stripes and the spread eagle of the national ensign, and that those on whom it devolved to choose the national emblem paid a well-merited compliment to the father of their country by adopting the arms and crest of the family?”
Which arms of America, let us add, by one of the strange vicissitudes of history, were forecasted in imagery from the cloisters of Durham Cathedral! For the “Washington” of the Bishopric — the plot of ground so called in the union of Chester-le-Street — is the English home of the family that first appears in our island with this heraldic distinction.
Surtees, the historian of the Palatinate, describes the little colony, in 1820, as “a scattered village, on irregular broken ground.” A railway runs by the side of it in modern days; and is it not, moreover, within a mile or two of that classic hill on the Wear which marks the scene of the ancient legend of the Lambton Worm? At the time of the “Boldon Buke” (1138), the “Domesday” of the patrimony of the Bishopric, William de Hertburne held Washington, save the church and its lands, in exchange for Hertburne (or Hartburn), now a township in the parish of Stockton-on-Tees. He rendered £4 to the Bishop, and went in the great chase with a couple of greyhounds. When a common aid was required, he was also to bear his part in the assessment; but it was not to exceed a single mark.
The great chase of the Prince Bishop was an affair of no mean moment; for we read, as to Aucklandshire, that at the hunts all the villans found, for each oxgang, one rope, and made his lordship’s hall in the forest (of the length of forty feet and of the breadth within the posts of sixteen feet), with a buttery and hatch, and a chamber, and a chapel forty feet long and fifteen broad, with a fence round the lodges. They had of charity two shillings; and on the Bishop’s departure a whole tun of beer, or a half one, if it should remain; and they guarded the aeries of hawks which were in the district of Ralph the Crafty, and made eighteen booths at the fairs of St. Cuthbert. All the villans, moreover, and farmers, attended the roe-hunts at the summons of the Bishop, and also took part in the work of the mills of Aucklandshire.
Such is a glimpse, afforded us by the Boldon Book, of the life of the Bishopric in the days when the knightly William held Washington, or “Wessyngton,” in exchange for Hartburn.
“It seems probable,” Surtees remarks “that either William de Hertburne, or his immediate descendants, assumed the local name; for William de Wessington occurs as a witness to charters of Bishop Robert de Stichell (1260-74) and de Insula (1274-83). William de Wessyngton, chivaler, had license to settle the manor on himself, his wife Katharine, and his own right heirs, in 1350, and died in 1367 seized of the whole manor and vill by the above-mentioned free rent of £4, leaving William his son and heir, who held by the same tenure under Bishop Hatfield’s survey (1380).” But, “before 1400 the direct male line expired in another William. Arms, Arg. two bars and three mullets in chief grules.” “It is possible,” adds the county historian, “that from cadets of this ancient house descended the Washingtons of Adwicke-le-Street, co. York, whose pedigree appears in Dugdale, 1666, and those of Leicestershire, ancestors of the American patriot, Greorge Washington,”
In the century of the Boldon Book, and some fifty years before it was compiled, there were flourishing in the diocese of Durham the Amundevilles, probably of the same family with William de Hertburne, their arms being similar. Of John de Amundeville there is mention in the time of Henry I.; and with another John this noble house decays in the reign of the second Edward. Amundeville, or Mundeville — “Coatham Mundeville” — is in the parish of Haughton-le-Skerne, where Adam de Selby was holding to farm the demesne in the days of Bishop Pudsey, with the condition of finding at Darlington a litter for his lordship on his journeys.
It is probable — (may we not say certain?) — that the Norman settlers, Amundevilles, Hartburnes, and Washingtons, brought over the waves their Stars and Bars? Adventuring in the train of Norman William for the conquest of England, they won rich lands for themselves and those that came after them, successors of theirs carrying across a broader ocean than that of their forefathers the cognizance that was to float over land and sea on the banner of the American Republic!
One of Pudsey’s successors. Bishop James, became, in process of time, lord of the manor of Washington. In 1617, when the Stuart King was in Durham on the occasion of his visit to his native land of Scotland, the Bishop was in the Royal train; and on the crown of Elvet Bridge a city apprentice recited a doggerel poem in which the author had a gird at his lordship; for the prelate was no favourite with the citizens, having run counter to their municipal advancement, and also to their endeavours after representation in Parliament:
Yet what our Royal James did grant herein,
William our Bishop hath repugnant been.
King and Bishop came into angry collision. So roughly and roundly was the Count Palatine scolded by his sovereign on the 8th of May, in his own Castle of Durham, “that he retired to Auckland, and died of a violent fit of stone and stranguary, brought on by perfect vexation, three days afterwards.”
Washington remained behind in the Bishop’s family — its parish church having a large south porch, the burial place of the lords of the manor, adorned with the arms of the see and of James. “The whole roof was panelled in compartments with arms and a profusion of gold stars, which made it resemble a sort of Camera Stellata; all the performances of Mrs. Dorothy James, in the good days when widows and spinsters worked the family arms on chair covers, and occasionally changed their hand from decorating the great hall with King Alexander’s triumph, or the history of David and Goliath, to illustrating the family pedigree in needlework.”
But clouds come over the fairest skies; and “Dorothy James’s starry heaven,” as Surtees commemorates with his characteristic humour, “is now covered by a Via Lactea of whitewash.”
Those who are so inclined may now turn to the lives of George Washington by Jared Sparks and Washington Irving, the latter of whom was marked out at the font as a biographer of the general. The first chapter of Irving’s book of 1855 is devoted to the “Genealogy of the Washington family,” at the head of which is placed “William de Hertburn, the progenitor of the Washingtons,” and the line is traced down its course, passing Prior Wessyngton, who in 1446 “was buried like a soldier on his battlefield, at the door of the north aisle of his church, near the altar of St. Benedict.” Worthy of grateful remembrance is John Washington, Prior of Durham, “of whose compilations relative to the see, and the order professed by its monks,” says the late Rev. Dr. Raine, in his “Saint Cuthbert” (1828), “I have so frequently availed myself. Diligently and lovingly “he wrote on the subject of his church.” He “did more.” Great and liberal services he rendered it in a variety of ways over a long course of years, and his name is honourably written in its annals. Incidentally we learn that in the time of Prior Washington the cathedral of Durham had a dock; for there was then expended 71s. 11d. for the construction of a window juxta horologium. The edifice had also the instrumental music which is now so common in our churches, £26 13s. 4d. having been paid for “the making of divers pairs (sets) of organs.”
Passing from the Prior to the President, whose blood “came in with the Conqueror,” there are in the “Archaeologia Aeliana” (ii., 120, 1857), among the Transactions of the Newcastle Society of Antiquaries, letters which connect the general with the county of Durham after the War of Independence. They were read before the members in 1857 by Mr. W. H. D. Longstaffe, the historian of Darlington, and annotated for the archives. To one of them, written by Sarah Addison to her brother, Washington Smirk, in 1836, is appended a copy of the register of their parents’ marriage at Washington in 1780:— “Edward Smirk and Hannah Washington, both of this parish, married, by banns duly published, on the 22nd day of May, 1780, by me, E. Wilson, rector.”
Of the remaining letters, seven in number, one was written by General Washington, April 6, 1787, at Mount Vernon, and concerns the estate of Colonel Thomas Colville, under whose will he was executor. Two others, bsistling with italics, and having a touch of small capitals, are from the pen of Sir William Appleby, “one of the Peg Nicholson knights” of English history.” He describes Washington as “the modern Fabius, in war as well as executorships,” and is as peppery as he is prejudiced and unjust.
In a note to the letter of General Washington, the editor says: “It is evident from the sequel that Colonel Colville was nearly related to the Colvilles of White House, near Gateshead,” purchased by Edward, son of Adam Colville, of Boldon, Gent. Edward Colville, Butcher and Hoastman of Newcastle, died in 1750, aged 105. Twice married, he had sons and daughters. His son John, baptized in 1708, resided at White House. One of his sisters, Camilla, baptized in 1698, married Charles Bennet, Viscount Ossulston, who succeeded his sire as Earl of Tankerville.
I can’t begin to imagine the thoughts of fear and anxiety that were going through the minds of young men at this time 100 years ago. The first day of the Somme offensive, 1st July 1916, was the opening day of the Battle of Albert (1 – 13th July). The objective of the attack was to capture the German first and second positions from Serre south to the Albert–Bapaume road and the first position from the road south to Foucaucourt.
A huge artillery bombardment preceded the attack on the 1st July. The sheer weight of the barrage was supposed to have neutralised the German defences and the allied generals assumed taking them would be a “walk in the park”. But the Germans had dug in well and their defences and resolve were far from “neutralised”.
13 British and 6 French Divisions attacked the German lines held by 6 enemy Divisions. The British, Commonwealth and French soldiers attacked at a brisk walking pace……….during the first day British forces suffered 57,470 casualties including 19,240 killed. The first day was the start of a bitter struggle which lasted for five months until November 1918, claiming the lives of almost 1 million men.
One of the units present at the start of the battle was the 160th (Wearside) Brigade, Royal Field Artillery (34 Division, III Corps). You can see their position on the map above, to the North East of Albert. The recruitment of men into the 160th (Wearside) Brigade began on the 1st March 1915 with the overwhelming majority of the new recruits, including the officers, hailing from Sunderland, Wearside and the surrounding districts including Whitburn, Seaham and Gateshead. These men came from all walks of life, “from the privileged well educated families of rich industrialists, to the poorest labourers that worked in the mines and shipyards.”
I’ve just downloaded the official War Diary of the 160th Brigade from the National Archive. It covers the period 1st July to 31st October 1916.
The entry for the 1st July 1916 reads as follows:
34th Division attacked German defences in accordance with IV Army Scheme Operation Orders as attached to War Diary for June 1916. B/160 shelled, 1 man wounded, who afterwards died of wounds.
You can read more about the 160th at the following websites:
There is so much going on in the North East to commemorate the centenary of the Battle of the Somme. Check out the following links:
In these troubled political times there seems to be so much division, resentment and fear in our society. It’s becoming stifling. We need to keep in mind the bitter lessons of the past. With the First World War vanished from living memory and the Second World War quickly following suite the deterrent for avoiding the breakdown of democracy is becoming diluted. Division and fear allows evil to take root and ultimately everyone loses when hate flourishes. So let’s remember the tragedy that happened 100 years ago. Remember it before making a hasty tweet or divisive comment. We need to keep it together, be compassionate, be open and forgiving and ensure that history does not repeat itself.
To the fallen.
The following article was written in January 1889 in the third volume of the Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend. It is tells the sad tale of the wreck of the Stanley off Tynemouth in 1864.
The wreck of the Stanley at the mouth of the Tyne took place on the 24th of November, 1864. During the early part of that day, a strong breeze blew from the east-south-east. It was not, however, sufficiently violent off the mouth of the Tyne to account for the gradual rise of the waves as the day advanced. In the afternoon, the storm, of which the wind from the quarter indicated had been the herald, gradually grew in violence until it became evident that there were serious grounds for apprehension as to the safety of vessels which were then in the offing. About half-past four o’clock an occurrence took place which, unfortunately, proved the precursor of further and more serious disasters. One of the Tyne Commissioners’ hoppers, in tow of a steam-tug belonging to Mr. Lawson, of South Shields, was outside the bar, when the towline parted. The hopper was driven behind the North Pier, the two men who were on board of her being rescued by means of life-buoys by some of the pier men; while the tug was dashed upon the Herd Sands, whence her crew were saved by the South Shields lifeboat. The next vessel which ran on shore proved to be the passenger steamer Stanley.
This fine vessel was the property of the Aberdeen Steam Navigation Company. She was an iron screwsteamer, and was built at West Hartlepool by Messrs. Pile, Spence, and Co. in 1859. Her register tonnage was 376, her actual burthen being 552 tons. She had sailed from Aberdeen on the previous night, bound for London, in charge of Captain Howling, having a crew of 29 hands, all told. The number of passengers at the time of sailing was 30, about half of whom were women. The vessel had also a full cargo on board, and on her deck were about 48 cattle and 30 sheep. She proceeded on her voyage with every prospect of reaching her desired haven in safety, until off the Northumberland coast, where she first began to experience the effects of the storm. Finding the sea so turbulent in-shore, the Stanley stood out seaward in the expectation of finding smoother water, but discovered that she was only running into the full force of the gale. In this terrible plight, the captain determined to steam for the Tyne, the mouth of which was reached about a quarter to five o’clock. The master had only once during his nautical career been in the Tyne, and that was about twenty years previously. Under these circumstances, he naturally felt considerable hesitation in taking the bar, more especially as the tidal lights were not then burning. He fired a couple of rockets for a pilot, but none came off. A tug-steamer did, indeed, leave the harbour, but she never approached near to the Stanley. The mate, however, who had frequently sailed to and from the Tyne, expressed his readiness to steer the vessel into port. The captain yielded to his representations, and the head of the steamer was turned towards the bar. This was safely crossed. But the ship had got no further than just off the Spanish Battery, when, with a dreadful shock, she struck upon the rocks known as the Black Middens.
As soon as the peril of the Stanley was seen from the shore, a number of the coastguardsmen set about getting the rocket apparatus ready for firing. The Tynemouth lifeboat, the Constance, was promptly manned, while the North Shields lifeboats, the Northumberland and Providence, with the South Shields lifeboats, William Wake, Tyne, and Fly, were also got out and pulled down the harbour into the Narrows. Intelligence of the catastrophe spread with lightning-like rapidity, and the consternation and excitement of the inhabitants in the sister towns at the mouth of the Tyne were intense. The night was pitch dark, and from the elevated headland overlooking the harbour the sea could be made out only by a broad band of white foam; but a couple of hundred yards from the shore could be dimly discerned through the gloom some dark object indicating the position of the ill-fated vessel. The roar of the waves, too, was deafening; but in the lulls of the storm the despairing wail of the poor creatures exposed to the pitiless waves was heard with painful and agonizing distinctness. As the tide fell, the rocket apparatus was carried over the rocks, and preparations were made to establish means of communication with those on board.
Before the disaster, the Stanley had been provided with four lifeboats; but, after striking upon the rocks, three of these were speedily smashed to pieces. An attempt was made to launch the remaining lifeboat; and for this purpose four of the crew got into her, taking with them four female passengers. While the boat, however, was being lowered from the davits, a heavy sea caused her to turn round and sink. Three of the seamen were rescued by those on board, but the four ladies and the fourth seaman were, in a moment, swept beyond the reach of aid.
After firing one or two abortive rockets, the coastguard at last succeeded in establishing communication with the Stanley. The line carried by the rocket was soon the means of carrying a stout warp between the vessel and the shore; and upon this warp the cradle was slung. The first man to venture into the cradle was an ordinary seaman, named Andrew Campbell, who was safely conveyed to the shore amid the cheers of the bystanders. A second seaman and a woman next got into the cradle, but, unhappily, they fell or were thrown out, and were drowned. The second mate, James Knipp, then took his place in the cradle, and was safely drawn through the raging waters to the shore. Owing to an unfortunate error of judgment on tho part of some one, the hawser was secured in such a manner that it was no higher than the rail of the ship, the consequence being that those on shore could not get it clear of the water. The result of the mistake was soon painfully palpable. When a seaman named Buchan had been drawn about midway between the vessel and the shore, the bight of the warp was borne by his weight against the rocks, amongst which the whip-line of the cradle became entangled, and the cradle itself was brought to a standstill. Inspired by the strength born of despair, the determined fellow managed to haul himself hand-over-hand to the shore by the warp. The warp and cradle being, by this untoward accident, rendered useless, an end was put for the time being to any further efforts in that direction; and the unfortunate passengers and crew still on board were left to their fate until the full tide of the morning should afford an opportunity for the resumption of measures for their rescue.
The captain and his mate appear to have done everything in their power towards saving the passengers from being swept away. Two women the only two who were afterwards saved were induced to place themselves in the foretop, where they were securely lashed; and three or four more were bound to the shrouds beneath. The bulk of the female passengers, however, were too much affrighted and prostrated by the fearful experiences through which they were passing to venture from the deck.
About half-past nine o’clock, the steamer was struck by a tremendous sea. The hull yielded to the irresistible blow, and parted abaft the mainmast. The force of the waves swung the fore part and larger portion of the vessel completely round until it was left in a position with the bow breasting the waves. At this time the whole of those on board were on the larger portion of the vessel. The second-class cabin was on the deck, and the top of it formed what was known as the bridge or “look-out.” Affording as it did a place of refuge from the breakers which poured incessantly upon the doomed vessel, it became crowded by female passengers and a portion of the crew. All were tightly lashed to the rails by which the sides were guarded. But a terrific breaker swept the entire structure, with its shrieking occupants, into the sea, where they all perished.
The survivors in other parts of the vessel had taken refuge in the fore and main rigging, whence several of them were washed into the sea. The same fate befel two of the women who had been lashed to the shrouds, while another, unable to bear up against the exposure and hardships of that terrible trial, expired from exhaustion.
About five o’clock next morning the sea had sufficiently fallen to permit a resumption of the exertions to save the survivors. Three rockets were fired before a communication with the vessel was established. This time those on board made the warp fast to the mast-head, by which means it was kept out of the angry surf, and the incline materially facilitated the working of the cradle. Soon all was ready for recommencing the work of rescue, and in a few minutes afterwards the whole of the survivors were brought safely to land.
There were lost, in all, about twenty-six lives; and with the other disasters which occurred at the harbour’s mouth during that memorable night, the catalogue of mortality was swollen to between thirty and forty.
There has since been no such lamentable experience in the history of Tyne navigation, the great improvements effected by the enterprise of the River Commissioners having largely contributed to the greater immunity from fatal disaster which is now enjoyed, while the brave members of the Tynemouth Volunteer Life Brigade, which owes its origin to the wreck of the Stanley, are ever ready to render assistance when necessity arises.
The sketch of the wreck which accompanies this article is taken from a painting by Mr. J. W. Swift, a local artist of the time.
The following article was published in January 1889 in the third volume of the Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend and is concerned with the “Sunderland Babbies”. Read on to find out more. Also check out this article in the Sunderland Echo.
Let’s hope the funding comes through!
Babbies was the popular name given to two life-sized leaden figures which for many years formed the chief attraction and land-mark in Broad Street (now Roker Avenue), at the junction of Fulwell Lane and Church Street, Monkwearmouth. The house with the garden pillars thus ornamented was once a very pleasant residence, remarkable for having a clock and bells, and was occupied in its later days by “Gentleman John,” a soubriquet which clung to Mr. John Smith, shipowner, all through his successful career from a blacksmith to a capitalist. But previous to this it is said to have been the residence of the great-grandfather of the late Mr. George Cooper Abbes, of Cleadon Hall, who purchased the two figures’ which had been brought over from Germany (with ten more) by some speculative skipper, and set them up to adorn the entrance to his house. The other figures found their way into the hands of different gentlemen in the County Palatine, and most of them have probably long ere this been melted down for the sake of the lead. The duty on lead, in the shape of ore, was four pounds a ton a hundred years ago, whereas the Babbies, being “works of art,” would be admitted either duty free or for a comparatively small charge.
Between sixty and seventy years ago, the Broad Street mansion (or, as some say, the house next to it) was occupied by a Scotchman of the name of Rae who kept a genteel school in it, which was attended by the children of the principal Sunderland families the Kennicotts, Robsons, &c. Mr. Rae’s wife was the sister of a Miss Gilbert, the mother of the celebrated Lola Montez, whose real name was Eliza Gilbert. Eliza, whose father is said to have been an officer in the British army serving in India, was sent home from the East while yet a mere child, and boarded with Mr. and Mrs. Rae, from whom she received the elements of a good substantial English education. She had for her schoolfellows many who, when she afterwards became world-famous, remembered her as a very interesting, clever, pretty girl.
A few years ago, the Babbies were presented to the Roker Park, where they may now be seen; but it is proposed to place them on the pillars at the entrance from Roker Promenade when the gateway shall have been completed. The style of dress denotes the figures to be of German or Dutch manufacture. The scythe which the man is represented in the act of sharpening, is the Flemish or Hainault scythe, with which a good workman could cut an acre of corn easily in a day, and which was introduced into this country by some enterprising farmers about fifty years ago, to take the place of the Irish scythe-hook, which had itself supplanted the old toothed hook or sickle, all to be rendered obsolete in their turn by the reaping machine.
Probably but few of the many hundreds who daily travel over the noble high level bridge of which Sunderland is justly proud, and read in conspicuous characters upon its balustrades the words “Rowland Burdon, 1796; Robert Stephenson, 1858,” are aware of the fact that this bridge is constructed of part of the materials of one built under the direction of Thomas Paine, the author of the “Rights of Man.” The history of Paine’s bridge, taken from Mr. Smiles’s “Life of Telford,” and other sources of information, may perhaps interest the reader.
Thomas Paine, who was the son of a Quaker of Thetford, in Norfolk, was brought up to his father’s trade, that of a staymaker; but he soon got tired of staymaking and Thetford. Leaving home early in life, he filled, during a few years, the posts of privateersman, exciseman, and schoolmaster.
Dr. Franklin, with whom he had become acquainted, persuaded him to go to America, and there he took an active part in the revolutionary discussions of the end of last century. He dwelt for some time in Philadelphia, and studied mechanical philosophy, electricity, mineralogy, and the use of iron in bridge building. In 1787 he boldly offered to erect an iron bridge of 400 feet span with a single arch across the Schuylkill River; in the same year he submitted his design for the proposed bridge to the Acadamy of Sciences at Paris, also a copy of his plan to the Royal Society of England. Encouraged by the favourable opinions of scientific men, Paine proceeded to Rotherham, in Yorkshire, to get his bridge cast.
In August, 1788, he took out a patent for this bridge, and in the specification he describes it as “a method of constructing arches, vaulted roofs, and ceilings, either of iron or wood, on principles new and different to anything hitherto practised, by means of which construction arches, vaulted roofs, and ceilings may be erected to the extent of several hundreds of feet beyond what can be performed in the present practice of architecture.” Paine says the idea was taken from “the figure of a spider’s circular web,” and other ideas from nature, fully described in the specification for the patent, which is No. 1,667 on the list, and is notable as the first patent in our records for arc improvement in bridge construction.
An American gentleman named Whiteside having advanced money to Paine, the castings for the bridge were duly made by Messrs. Walker, of Rotherham, and shipped off to London. The bridge was exhibited to the public at Paddington, where it was visited by large numbers of people.
Whiteside having become bankrupt, Paine was arrested by his assignees; but, two other Americans becoming bond for him, he was liberated. And now, apparently giving up all thoughts of his bridge, he espoused the principles of the French Revolution. Meanwhile, the manufacturers of the bridge agreed to take it back as part of their debt, and the materials were used in the construction of that high level bridge which now spans the Wear at Sunderland.
To the public munificence of Rowland Burdon, of Castle Eden, is due the erection of this bridge, at a cost to himself of about £22,000, in the year 1796. In the previous year he took out a patent for its construction, in which he describes it as “a method of making, uniting, and applying cast iron blocks, to be substituted in lieu of keystones in the construction of arches, the said cast iron blocks being kept in their proper positions, and made to abut against each other, and to support any incumbent structure by means of wrought iron bars and wrought or cast iron braces being affixed to their sides, and passing horizontally between ribs composed of the said cast iron blocks.”
Although the names of Rowland Burdon and Robert Stephenson (under whose supervision the bridge was widened and improved) are alone publicly associated with this bridge, “we must not” to use the words of Mr. Phipps, C.E., in a report to Robert Stephenson “deny to Paine the credit of conceiving the construction of iron bridges of far larger span than had been made before his time, or of the important examples, both as models and large constructions, which he caused to be made and publicly exhibited.”
Several alterations and improvements upon the original design were made in erecting the bridge. Its span is 236 feet, and the roadway is more than 100 feet above high water mark. The bridge was characterised by Mr. Robert Stephenson as “a structure which, as regards its proportions and the small quantity of material used in its construction, will probably remain unrivalled.”
It is admitted that Rowland Burdon constructed and erected Sunderland Bridge, but this is widely different to inventing it. Let us look at the facts of the case, as far as they are known. Paine’s specification of his patent was registered August 26, 1788, and numbered 1,667. No one will doubt that considerable time would elapse in considering and mastering the specification before it was registered. In fact, we know from Paine’s memoir, addressed to the United States Congress, that in the September of 1787, about a year before the patent was registered, a model of the bridge was sent to Sir Joseph Banks, president of the Royal Society of England.
In a paper read before the Royal Society, in 1797, Thomas Bowler states that “a plan for an iron bridge, on a new principle, was also invented by Mr. Thomas Paine, and exhibited some time ago near Paddington.” There is little doubt that the bridge alluded to was made at Rotherham, and sent to Paddington for exhibition. We now have historical evidence that Paine had a model of his bridge, the specification of his patent being registered seven years before Burdon took out his patent; and we may fairly assume that a bridge was built in accordance with Paine’s model and specification, and exhibited about the time Burdon’s patent was registered. There can be no doubt that Burdon, when considering and maturing his plans for the construction of such a novel structure as the Sunderland Bridge, would be fully aware of the facts alluded to. Rowland Burdon’s specification of patent was registered September 18, 1795, No. 2,066. The foundation-stone was laid 24th September, 1793, and the bridge was opened to the public on the 8th of August, 1796, so that the erection of the structure had been in progress for two years before the patent was entered in the patent office. This looks very much like making the machine first, and drawing the plans afterwards.
I must now call attention to the Rev. William Turner’s remarks in a paper read by him before the Literary and Philosophical Society at Newcastle, in 1795, and to Mr. John Rastrick’s letter, dated Morpeth, September 8th, 1795. Mr. Turner’s remarks certainly imply that he was not certain that Mr. Burdon was the inventor. Mr. Rastrick says: “It has been asserted that Wearmouth Bridge is built on the principles of a model of Paine’s which came from London one evening when I was at Castle Eden.” We may fairly infer that there must have been some grounds for this report.
An Act of Parliament was obtained in 1857 for the reconstruction, or rather the strengthening, of the bridge, which was carried out under the superintendence of Robert Stephenson. The original structure of the bridge was found to consist of six cast iron ribs. To the surprise and astonishment of all immediately connected with the repairs, the discovery was made that two of the ribs had been made of one pattern, and the other four ribs of a different pattern. The question naturally arose, how had this occurred? The most feasible answer is that the two exceptional ribs were those sent from Paddington, which we have most unmistakeable hints about.
In 1786 Paine made three models of iron bridges, partly at Philadelphia, but mostly at Borden Town, in the State of Jersey. One model was in wood, one in oast iron, and one in wrought iron connected with blocks of wood, representing cast iron blocks. He took the last-mentioned one with him to France in 1787, and presented it to the Academy of Sciences at Paris for their opinion of it. In September of the same year he sent a model to Sir Joseph Banks, President of the Royal Society in England, and soon after came to England himself.
The principle he took to begin with, and to work upon, was that the small segment of a large circle was preferable to the great segment of a small circle. The appearance of such arches, and the manner of forming and putting the parts together, admit of many varieties; but the principle will be the same in all. The architects Paine conversed with in England denied the principle, but it was generally supported by mathematicians.
In order to ascertain the truth of the principle on a larger scale than could be shown by a portable model of five or six feet in length, he went to the iron foundry of Messrs. Walker, at Rotherham, and had a complete rib of ninety feet span, and five feet in height from the cord line to the centre of the arch, manufactured and erected. It was a segment of a circle of four hundred and ten feet diameter; and until this was done no experiment on a circle of such extensive diameter had ever been made in architecture, or the practicability of it supposed. On the success of this experiment, he entered into an agreement with the iron founders at Rotherham to cast and manufacture a complete bridge to be composed of five ribs of one hundred and ten feet span, and five feet of height from the cord line, being a segment of a circle of six hundred and ten feet diameter.
At this time Paine’s bridge operations became suspended, and he employed himself on the now celebrated work “The Rights of Man,” in answer to Burke’s attack on the French Revolution. In 1792 a Convention was elected in France for the express purpose of forming a constitution on the authority of the people, as had been done in America, of which Convention Paine was elected a member. He was at that time in England, and knew nothing of his election till the arrival of the person who was sent officially to inform him of it. So great was Paine’s popularity in France that he was chosen about the same time by the people of no fewer than four departments.
During Paine’s absence in France, Sunderland Bridge was erected. Paine had a very intimate, friend Sir Robert Smyth, who was also an acquaintance of Mr. Monroe, the American Minister in Paris. Smyth had been a colleague in Parliament of Mr Ralph Milbanke, and, supposing that the persons who constructed the iron bridge at Sunderland had made free with Paine’s model, which was at the iron works where the Sunderland Bridge was cast, he wrote to Mr. Milbanke on the subject, and the following was that gentleman’s answer:
With respect to the bridge over the river Wear at Sunderland, it is certainly a work well deserving admiration both for its structure and utility, and I have good grounds for saying that the first idea was suggested by Mr. Paine’s bridge exhibited at Paddington. What difference there may be in some parts of the structure, or in the proportion of wrought and cast iron, I cannot pretend to say, Burden having undertaken to build the bridge, in consequence of his having taken upon himself whatever the expense might be beyond three and four thousand pounds (sterling) subscribed by myself and some other gentlemen. But, whatever the mechanism might be, it did not supersede the necessity of a centre [the writer has here confounded a centre with a scaffolding], which centre was esteemed a very ingenious piece of workmanship, and taken from a plan sketched by Mr. Nash, an architect of great merit, who had been consulted in the outset of the business, when a bridge of stone was in contemplation. With respect, therefore, to any gratuity to Mr. Paine, though ever so desirous of rewarding the labour of an ingenious man, I do not feel how, under the circumstances already described, I have it in my power, having nothing to do with the bridge after the payment of my subscription, Mr. Burden then becoming accountable for the whole. But if you can point out any mode, according to which it should be in my power to be instrumental in procuring him any compensation for the advantage the public may have derived from his ingenious model, from which certainly the outline of the bridge at Sunderland was taken, be assured it will afford me very great satisfaction.
Paine had no patent for his bridge construction in America, but he took care to put the country in possession of the means and of the right of making use of the construction freely. Among the world’s inventors he has an honoured place. The iron truss bridge, which he invented, now spans a thousand streams in America, a graceful monument to his mechanical genius. He was the inventor of the planing machine, which relieves the weary mechanic from much of the severity of his olden toil; and he was the first to suggest steam navigation, although not to practically carry out the idea.
The above summary and extracts are taken from two of Paine’s letters one to Sir George Staunton, Bart.; the other, “On the Construction of Iron Bridges,” to the Congress of the United States.
A long discussion took place in the “Notes and Queries;” of the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle in 1875 on the subject of the invention of Sunderland Bridge. Immense credit was of course justly given to Mr. Burdon for originating and building the structure; but the curious and varied evidence produced in the course of that discussion conclusively proved that the honour of inventing the principle on which the bridge was constructed belongs to Thomas Paine. It will be sufficient to enumerate here the names of some of the authorities who were shown to have awarded the credit to the author of “The Rights of Man.” I mention them in the order in which they appeared in the correspondence: Ralph Milbanke, the colleague of Rowland Burdon in the representation of Durham; the “Encyclopedia Londinensis”; Kensington Museum of Patents; Quarterly Review, July, 1858; J. C Jeafferson, “Life of Robert Stephenson”; Mr. Murray, engineer of Sunderland Dock; Dr. Smiles, “Life of Telford”; Mr. Phipps, C.E.; Professor Pole; Rees’s “Encyclopaedia”; Robert Stephenson, “Encyclopaedia Britannica.”
Our sketch of the Sunderland Bridge is copied from an engraving in Richardson’s “Table Book.” Paine’s portrait is a copy of Romney’s. It is to be regretted that we have been unable, though we made inquiries far and near, to obtain a portrait of Rowland Burdon also……………..although Northeastlore has tracked one down!!!!!
In some parts of Northumberland it is thought lucky if we meet with two magpies, but very unlucky if one crosses our path. The following couplet I have often heard repeated:
One is sorrow, two mirth,
Three is wedding, four a birth,
Five heaven, six hell,
Seven the de’il’s ain sel’!
There are many who still look in the candles for expected letters, and search the tea-cup for coming visitors. If a young lady, in snuffing a candle, snuff it out, she will not be married during the current year. A spider descending upon you from the roof is a token that you will soon have a legacy from a friend. When a spider is found upon our clothes, some money is coming to us. The sudden loss of hair is a prognostication of the loss of children, health, or property. If a person’s hair burn brightly when thrown into the fire, it is a sign of long life; the brighter the flame the longer the life. If it smoulders away, and refuses to burn, it is a sign of approaching death. If the nose itches, it is a sign that you will be crossed or vexed. Itching of the right hand portends receiving money. If the right ear tingles, you are being well spoken of; if the left ear, some one is speaking ill of you.
It is accounted lucky to carry in the pocket a crooked sixpence or one with a hole in it, or to put a stocking on inside out, or a waistcoat similarly, through inadvertence. If you put a button or hook into the wrong hole while dressing in the morning, some misfortune will occur during the day. If you dream that you have lost a tooth, you will shortly hear of the death of a friend. If you dream of a wedding, you will hear of death; if you dream of water, you will hear of sickness. If a toad crosses the path, it will rain. It is lucky to have money in your pocket when you first hear that harbinger of spring, the cuckoo. It is unlucky, after one has started on a journey, to be recalled, and told of something previously forgotten.
Mr. Henderson, from whom I quote for the purposes of this communication, states that a clergyman from Yorkshire told him that his grandfather, though anything but a weak man, would never turn back when he had once started upon an expedition. He had been known to remain on horseback at the end of his grounds, shouting to the house for something that he had forgotten, rather than turn back for it. When rooks desert a rookery, it foretells the downfall of the family on whose property it is. There is a Northumbrian saying that the rooks deserted the rookery at Chipchase (on the banks of North Tyne) when the family of Reed left that place. On the other hand, the Wilkie MS. informs us that when rooks haunt a town, or village, mortality is supposed to await its inhabitants; and if they feed in the street it shows a storm is near at hand. It is said to be a good omen for swallows to take possession of a place, and build their nests around it; while it is unpropitious for them to forsake a place which they have once tenanted. A cock crowing on the threshold is a sign of approaching visitors. For a magpie to be seen near anyone’s doorstep is an omen of death. I was told some time ago by an old but intelligent gentleman, a resident of Winlaton, that when he had seen a magpie on three different occasions fly close to the door of people’s dwellings a death took place shortly after.
When very young, and living in Haydon Bridge, the following was related to me by a friend who has long passed away, and who possessed a fund of local knowledge: About seventy years ago, a quarryman, who resided in the above village, proceeded to work early one morning, accompanied by other fellow-workmen. On walking up Cleatby Bank, opposite West Mill Hills, a magpie crossed and re-crossed their path several times. It then disappeared, but, when nearing East Brokenheugh, it suddenly flew in amongst them, nearly knocking the hat off the quarrymans head. One of the poor fellows was much alarmed, and advised quarryman to return home. “Not I,” said the quarryman; “I don’t believe in such nonsense.” Arriving at the scene of their labour, they commenced work, and had only been working a short time when an alarm was raised, and each shouted to the other to run for his life. On endeavouring to save himself, the quarrymans hat fell off, when he stumbled over it and fell, and before he could rise a large stone came rolling down, crushing him to death.
First footing still largely prevails in various parts of Northumberland. It is considered very unlucky for the first visitor to a house on a New Year’s Day to belong to the gentler sex. In order to obviate this calamity, so soon as the last stroke of twelve has tolled forth from the parish church on the night of the 31st of December of any year, the male members of each household, placing a bottle of wine or spirits in their pockets, sally forth upon visits to the houses of all their friends. Others keep their doors locked until a male commences knocking, when the inmates, on being assured that it is not one of the fair sex, admit him, and partake of bread and cheese, which is often washed down by a small sensation of “mountain dew.” There are some good ladies whom the writer knows very well (and with whom he has often been amused) who will not allow any ashes or slops to be taken out of the house on New Year’s Day, it being unfortunate to take anything out. One can bring in, however, as much as possible.
A more agreeable rendering of the magpie rhyme is current in Wensleydale. Here it is:
One for sorrow, two for luck,
Three for a wedding, four for a death,
Five for silver, six for gold,
Seven for a bonny lass twenty years old.
F. Bland, Newcastle.
The following is taken from Volume 1 of the Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend and was published in June 1887. I love this one as I used to work in Thornton Street and The Forth Hotel (https://www.theforthnewcastle.co.uk/) is one of my favourite drinking establishments. It constantly amazes me how places change over time. Hope you enjoy! JPM
No locality in Newcastle has excited more interest among the inhabitants than the open space called the Forth. It was for ages a playground for old and young; there the children used to bowl their eggs at Easter; and there Ned Corvan’s songs was a lamentation for the loss of the Forth. That famous trysting-place, together with the Spital, has long since disappeared. The very site of it is now but dimly remembered, even by the oldest inhabitants of Newcastle. Nevertheless, the interest in the subject is still great enough to justify an attempt to give people now living the best idea possible of the appearance and situation of the Forth. No sketches exist of the enclosure, the citizens used to enjoy the ancient game of bowls in summertime. Political meetings in later days were sometimes held in the enclosure. Only of the most pathetic as far as we are aware, are in existence. The only approach to anything of the kind is contained in Buck’s “View of Newcastle,” published in 1745. A rough outline of part of that “view” is here printed. A cross in the outline indicates the Forth Tavern and the trees surrounding it. We give also a tracing from Oliver’s Plan of Newcastle, published in 1830. This tracing shows that the Forth joined the Cattle Market, and was situated between the (Gunner lower, which was removed in 1885, and the Infirmary, which still stands in the place it occupied in 1830. Neville Street, the Central Station, and the North-Eastern Railway, in fact, have taken the place of the once popular resort. Besides these outlines we have pleasure in presenting our readers with three sketches of the old Forth Tavern, taken from original drawings preserved in a book that belonged to the late John Waller. The original drawings were made in 1843, shortly before the place was pulled down and the entire locality transformed. It was in this tavern and under the verandah in front of it, that the citizens were accustomed to gather of an evening, there to watch the sports which were proceeding on the green sward of the Forth itself. The view of the west end of the tavern shows the steps which led up to the terrace overlooking the Forth Walk. Mr. M. A. Richardson published in 1848 Alderman Hornby’s “Extracts from the Municipal Accounts of the Corporation of Newcastle.” To these accounts he appended some historical notes, one of which furnishes the best description extant of the ancient playground of the Newcastle people.
Mr. Richardson’s History of the Forth
The Forth has probably been in use as a place of recreation from a very early period, and that, too, countenanced by the governing body both in purse and person; our mayors and aldermen of the earlier days of Queen Elizabeth do not appear to have thought it beneath their dignity to witness and reward the exertions of “the fellyshpe of a shyp [of] Albroughe, dansyng in the Fyrthe,” or even the pranks of a “player,” who, it is gravely stated, was rewarded “for playing with a hobie-horse in the Firthe, before the maior and his brethren”; and, though it is not specially mentioned where the ceremony took place, yet we can hardly doubt that the bearward of Lord Monteagle, “him that had the lyon,” and the “tumbler that tumbled before Mr. Maior and his brethern,” one and all exhibited the capacities of themselves or of their respective charges in the presence of these worshipful sightseers in this ancient place of recreation. In all these things we can discover a simplicity of manner, and an unbending of the sternness of justice at particular seasons, which cannot fail to impress us with a very favourable idea of the kindliness and easy intercourse of the magistracy with the commonalty at the period in question.
Archery, too. it would seem, has been practised here by the stalwart youths of the town, for in July, 1567, we have a charge “for making up the buttes in the Fyrthe.” It seems probable, in fact, that the Forth has also been the campus martius of the town, or, at least, one of the places appropriated to the purposes of military array.
On 25th Sept., 1657, the Forth and paddock adjoining were ordered to be leased out under the common seal at a rent not exceeding £20 per annum, for 21 years, the lessee to let it to those only who should be bowling green keepers, with a clause to permit all the liberties, privileges, and enjoyments formerly used there; amongst these occur “lawful recreations and drying clothes.” It is thus mentioned in a survey of crown lands, &c., in and about Newcastle, taken 29th Oct., 1649: “Item, one parcell of pasture grounde, called by the name of the Frith, lyeing on the west parte of Newcastle, conteynyng by estimacon 4 acres and one rood, and worth per annum 42s. 6d. Both this and Castle-Leazes or Castle-Fields hath been time out of mynd in the possession of divers persons residing in or neare unto Newcastle, and (as we are informed) holdeth the same of the crowne in fee farme. Therefore, we have not valued the same, but leave them to better judgements.” Mention occurs of the Forth in an old rental of the sheriff of Newcastle which appears about the age of Car. 1. “The Forth and Gooden-deane letten to Thomas Cook.”
About 1657, a bowling-green and house for the keeper, was made by contribution in part of the Forth; around which on 29th July, 1680, the Corporation ordered a wall to be built, and lime trees brought out of Holland to be planted therein. On 25th Sept., 1682, there was an order of the same body “to make the Forth House suitable for entertainment, with a cellar convenient, and a handsome room, &c.” On this occasion there was erected a stone inscribed “Nicholas Fenwicke, esq. maior, Nicholas Ridley, esq. sherriffe, anno Domini, 1682.” In Brand’s time it was affixed to the west end of the house, but was afterwards built into the parapet over the piazza.
The Forth Tavern from three prospects
A keeper of the bowling-green was retained till about the middle of the last century. Whether bowling was practised here previous to 1657, we have not been able to discover, but it is mentioned in 1690, and Thoresby, the historian of Leeds, who visited the town on 19th May 1703, especially mentions having “walked to the very curious bowling-green, built at a public charge, and where the best orders are kept, as well as made, that ever I observed.”
“It was an ancient custom,” says Bourne, “for the mayor, aldermen, and sheriff of this town, accompanied with great numbers of the burgesses, to go every year at the feasts of Easter and Whitsuntide to the Forth, with the mace, sword, and cap of maintenance carried before them.” They then unbent the brow of authority, and joined the festive throng. On the north side of the bowling-green was the tavern, with a balcony projecting from the front, and a parapet wall, whence the spectators, calmly smoking their pipes and enjoying their glasses, beheld the sportsmen below. On Easter Tuesday, 1808, the holiday people assembled here were disturbed in the enjoyment of their annual amusements by an affray of a rather serious nature between some boys and a party of recruits of the Wiltshire Militia. The boys, according to annual custom, were amusing themselves with a game of football in the interior of the Forth, when the soldiers, no doubt for the sake of fun, interrupted them in their diversion, by running after them and tripping up their heels. The boys being reinforced by their friends, and encouraged by another party of military, set upon their opponents manfully, and with stones, brickbats, and other missiles, kept up such a determined discharge, that they compelled their antagonists, though superior in numbers, to seek safety in precipitate retreat. Luckily the scene of action being near the Infirmary, the wounded were conveyed thither. Two men received severe but not dangerous wounds on the head; the other accidents were mostly slight. At Easter-tide, too, the children used to go to the Forth to “bowl their eggs.”
It seems pretty certain that the practice of several of the incorporated companies, of convening at the Forth and Forth-hill on their head meeting days, which during the latter half of the seventeenth century had become quite usual, was the traditional observance of a much earlier custom, and must, we think, have been derived from the assembling themselves together in former times of the body of burgesses, for the celebration of their processions and Corpus Christi plays. From the deficiency of very early records, and the paucity of the information given by those which do exist, we have not been able to trace any earlier mention of the custom than 1647, when the Cordwainers are enjoined to hold their head meeting on the Monday after Corpus Christi Day “in a place called the Forth, without the walls of our town, before 9 of the clock in the forenoon.” The Smiths, on 23rd June, 1739, require that their company, which “heretofore usually on the head meeting day have gone to the Forth-hill to call the roll and gather in their fines,” shall in future appear at their meeting hall for the same purpose. The Coopers, who had also met here for the adjustment of their business at seven in the morning, also discontinued the custom 7th June, 1710; and the Cordwainers, after the repair of their ancient meeting house in the Black Friars in 1728, in like manner abolished the practice from 30th September that year. Scattered over the records of the incorporated fraternities are many amusing entries relative to these meetings, whereby we observe that they did not neglect creature comforts, or spurn the aid of the drinking glass or of the fragrant weed. The companies brought their muniment chests to the place of meeting, called over their respective rolls, and fined not only those who were absent, but such as misbehaved themselves whilst there. We have an unfortunate wight so punished for calling one of his brethren “three times a knave att the Forth-banck.” As might be expected, the proximity of a tavern and a bowling-green tempted many from their sterner duties; so we find that while one slips away to enjoy a pipe, a second is detected “playing at bowels” in the green, while “the twelve,” or committee of his company, were waiting for his presence in order to the due despatch of business, which was frequently further retarded by others neglecting to bring the company’s box. After these disputes were over, they incontinently entered the adjoining tavern, and, in repeated draughts, would reward themselves for their continence during the bygone hour; a procedure no doubt often hastened by unpropitious weather to the satisfaction of all, especially as the cost was defrayed at the common charge “the raine causeing them in.”
As we have indicated, the Forth or Forth-field appears to have been used as a public drying ground, as also for the sweetening and airing of clothing of other descriptions. In 1685, the Cordwainers occur conveying thither “to aire” the cloaks, pall, and other burial paraphernalia of the fraternity, an economical expedient which in the following year is called “sunning.”
The Forth, especially so called, was of square form, enclosed by a low brick wall, within which was a broad gravel walk, shaded by two rows of lime trees, planted at equal distances. Bailey informs us that these limes, which formed a kind of Lyceum for the inhabitants in their morning and evening walks, were subsequently cut square over at about fifteen feet from the ground; for years they shot out afresh, but by the latter part of the last century were going fast to decay; that at the time he wrote (1801) the constant exercising of troops on the green, and putting horses and cattle on the neighbouring field, had greatly impaired the beauty of the place, and entirely subverted its original and peaceful intention; but the Corporation prohibited these trespasses on the quiet enjoyment of the inhabitants, planted many young trees, and put the whole into excellent order, rendering it the most convenient and delightful promenade in the vicinity of the town. As such it was the daily resort of the inhabitants whose leisure permitted their making use of its pleasing features; while on Sundays, between and after Church hours, it was crowded with a brilliant and gaily dressed throng.
After 1840 the Forth declined; the green, which had been surrounded by a railing, and kept in a state of exquisite verdure, was broken in upon, and a footpath formed from one corner to the other by idle people as a short cut from gate to gate; the seats, which were placed all around the enclosure for the convenience of the delicate and invalid, fell into decay, and were either torn up for firewood or intentionally removed; and the trees, dying one by one, were cut down and not replaced. Subsequently, the railing was overthrown, and “the green” so completely disappeared that hardly a blade of grass was discernible, and the interior of the Forth became a miry plunge.
The open summit on which it was seated, the delightful views formerly to be had from it of the fine vales and extensive tracts of fell country in the distance, with its immediate contiguity to the western suburb, gave it all the advantages that could be desired for an evening resort in summer; but, from many manufactories and other works having sprung up in its vicinity, the smoke rapidly destroyed the vegetation. Bourne, writing in 1735, tells us that the Forth is a “mighty pretty place, exceeding by much any common place of pleasure about the town. On the east side of it you have a prospect of part of the town’s wall, through which is the common passage to and from this place, under a shady walk of trees; on the west you view the grounds of the village of Elswick, which have a gentle ascent to the village itself; a place at the proper season of the year much frequented bythe town’s people, for its pleasing walk and rural entertainment. From this quarter we view also, as we do on the south, the banks of the River Tyne, together with their villages.” In Bourne’s time there was nothing to hinder an uninterrupted view of the country south and west; but now the very scenes upon which he expatiates are wholly shut out from obser vation, and covered with modern dwellings.
The last tree, extending its gaunt leafless arms over the neglected swamp, as if pointing out deploringly the melancholy condition into which the place had fallen, was removed in November, 1842, when the workmen were engaged in cutting away the western side of the enclosure, for the purpose of adding to the ground occupied by the Cattle Market. On this occasion the wall was set into a line with the end of the tavern; the old gate, which had posts to prevent the ingress of horses, was removed, and a new one built up against the house; while among the mass of soil removed were found a great number of cows’ horns.
It may be implied that there was not any tavern in the Forth previous to the year 1657, as in 1651 we find the whole fraternity of Smiths indulging in thirty-pence worth of “beare in the Foorth,” a sum which includes the cost of “fetching it,” a charge that would hardly have occurred under other circumstances. The same remark may possibly apply to expenditure of this kind at an earlier date.
The enclosure appears originally to have been effected by a wooden railing, which we have reason to think was erected for the first time in 1654. Mention of the Forth wall first occurs in 1681, when, or in the preceding year, it was originally built. Considerable renovations also took place in 1731, and the succeeding year. A “seat in the Firth” is first mentioned in 1681, after which period down to the close of the century, it occurs being kept in repair, or at least some acknowledgment made, by the company of Smiths.
A Book with a History
The book from which our views of the Forth Taven are taken belonged to the late Mr. John Waller, proprietor of the Turf Hotel, Newcastle. It is a copy of Mackenzie’s “History of Newcastle,” bound in two volumes, and interleaved with rare engravings and original sketches of old buildings, many of which have now disappeared. The work has twice passed through the hands of Mr. Robert Robinson, of the Bewick’s Head, Pilgrim Street, in the course of his business. It is Mr. Robinson himself who relates the history of this literary treasure. The book originally belonged to a gentleman named Bacon, who was for half-a-century the respected agent of Messrs. Cookson, in the Close, and who resided not far from the office of the firm. Mr. Bacon amused himself for many years by collecting local engravings, &c., to illustrate the text of the historian. Furthermore, in 1843 he employed a scene-painter at the Theatre Royal to make drawings for him of old and picturesque buildings and places in Newcastle. When he had completed his task, Mr. Bacon informed two or three old friends, collectors like himself, that he intended to present the result of his “labour of love” to the Literary and Philosophical Society. These old friends heartily approved of his scheme. Urged by them to quit the Close for a more pleasant part of the town, Mr. Bacon took a house in Derwent Place, sent his book to a bookbinder to be bound, and then died. The gatherings of many years were shortly afterwards sold by auction by the late Mr. George Hardcastle, of Sunderland, in a room in the Royal Arcade. Endeavours were made at the time to get the Mackenzie volumes from the bookbinder, in order to present them to the Lit. and Phil. But the auctioneer would not assent to this proceeding, got possession of the books, and sold them with the rest of Mr. Bacon’s collection. The sale took place about thirty-six years ago, to the best of Mr. Robinson’s recollection. Mr. Robinson bought the Mackenzie lot, which he sold afterwards to the late William Sidney Gibson, the author of the “History of Tynemouth Monastery,” &c. On the death of that gentleman the work fell a second time into the hands of Mr. Robinson, who sold it to Mr. Ketelle, musicmaster, at whose death it came into the possession of the late Mr. Samuel Neville. When Mr. Neville’s library was dispersed, it was secured by the late owner, Mr. Waller. Such is the history of one of the most curious and interesting works extant.
When the allied sovereigns visited England after the overthrow of Napoleon, Alexander I., the Emperor of Russia, was accompanied by his brother Nicholas, afterwards destined to become Emperor himself. The Grand Duke Nicholas (for such was his then rank), anxious to see something of the method of working coals in this country, came down to the North to acquire the knowledge he needed.
Among the prominent people to whom he was furnished with letter? of introduction was the Rev. Dr. Gray, then Rector of Bishopwearmouth, afterwards Bishop of Bristol. Dr. Gray introduced him to Dr. Clanny, showed him the bridge over the Wear, and entertained him to lunch in the Rectory. Subsequently, the Grand Duke, in company with his suite, which consisted of Sir William Congreve, the inventor of the Congreve rocket, and some half dozen Russian noblemen in military uniform, set out for Newcastle. Here he visited the Royal Jubilee School, through which he was shown by the Rev. William Turner, the celebrated Unitarian minister. Here likewise he inspected, with much curiosity and interest, several beautiful specimens of wood engraving laid before him by Mr. Thomas Bewick. The Grand Duke was invited by the Mayor (Sir Thomas Burdon) to partake of the hospitalities of the town, but these were courteously declined on the plea of other engagements. Afterwards he paid a visit to Alnwick Castle.
The “illustrious stranger” arrived at Wallsend on December 16, 1816. Mr. John Buddie, the viewer of the colliery, had received instructions to show his Highness all that was to be seen, both above and below ground, and make him fully acquainted with the mode of winning and working the coal, ventilating the pits, &c. He was taken to Mr. Buddie’s residence, which was situated in the immediate vicinity of the principal pit; and there he was politely asked to take off his glittering uniform and orders, and put on the dress worn by a deputy-over-man, consisting of thick flannel trousers and a jacket of the same. This metamorphosis he accordingly underwent, and was then escorted to the mouth of the pit down which he was to be lowered.
As almost all our readers doubtless know, the pits are round holes, of about 10 feet in diameter, sunk into the earth to the depth in some cases of 300 fathoms, nearly one-third of a mile, and divided by a wooden partition or brattice the whole way down, so as to form two shafts, one known as the upcast and the other the downcast. Before the general adoption of Fourdrinier’s apparatus, the mode of descending a shaft was either by entering a large basket or corve used for hauling up the coals, or by putting one leg through a large iron hook at the end of the rope and clinging by the hands to the chain to which it was appended. The latter mode, contrary to what might be imagined, was the best and safest, and for this reason, that the basket was liable to catch the sides of the pit, and be thus turned upside down. Each person was provided with a short stick to keep himself from grazing the black and dripping walls as he proceeded downwards, and the rapidity of the descent was such as to render this precaution highly expedient.
Wallsend pit was at that period in the full enjoyment of its fame as sending up the finest coals in the world, and on this account it had been selected to give the Russian prince the best possible idea of what a coal pit was like, and how it was worked so profitably as to nett its owners an annual income of fifty or sixty thousand pounds. There were no coal mines of any consequence then in Russia, and Nicholas had never seen one in his life. What idea he had formed in his own mind of a coal pit it is impossible to say; but it is to be presumed that he had either thought little about the matter or been very wrongly informed on the subject. For when Mr. Buddie escorted him up the ladder leading to the platform of the pit-mouth, and introduced him to the scene of operations, he stopped suddenly short, and asked with alarm whether that was really the place to which he had been recommended to come. Upon being assured that such was actually the case, he went forward to the very edge of the pit, and attempted to look down into the Tartarean abyss, up which a blinding smoke was rising; then, stepping precipitately back, and holding up his hands in horrified amazement, he exclaimed in French, “Ah! my God, it is the mouth of hell! none but a madman would venture into it!” After uttering these words, he hastily retreated, made his way back to Mr. Buddie’s house, and there, slipping off his coarse, vulgar flannels as quickly as he could, again assumed his splendid uniform of a Russian general, with the badges of half the military orders in Europe hung about him. Then, without a minute’s delay, he left Wallsend Colliery far behind him, never to attempt the exploration of another coal mine.