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The Works of John Farndale (1791 to 1878) His Works 1861 to 1874
This page transcripts the works by John Farndale who wrote extensively of Saltburn, Kilton and the surrounding area
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Dates are in red.
Hyperlinks to other pages are in dark blue.
Headlines are in brown.
References and citations are in turquoise.
Contextual history is in purple.
1 - An Introduction to the Writings of John Farndale
John Farndale (FAR00217) was born
in Kilton, of a family who lived there for six
generations. However whilst his brother Martin Farndale (FAR00236) took
over farming at the family tenanted Farm in Kilton, John moved to Skelton, and thence to Coatham
Conyers, Mount Leven Farm in Yarm and Hunley Hall Farm, and then to Stockton where he became a corn and insurance agent and
by about 1861, he started to write books. Since his brother Martin had no
children of his own, John’s son Charles Farndale (FAR00341)
became a partner with Martin Farndale at the Kilton Farm, and then continued to
farm there after Martin died. So Kilton was John’s family home, but not
somewhere he lived during his adult life.
John’s father,
William Farndale (FAR00183),
was a tenant farmer at Kilton, and a merchant, who told stories of the
smuggling activities of Old Saltburn. John’ grandfather was John Farndale (FAR00143), known
as ‘Old Farndale of Kilton’. His great grandfather was John Farndale (FAR00116), who was
probably the first Farndale to live in Kilton.
John had a
close relationship with Kilton, and was brought up there, even though he barely
lived there. He did eventually return to Kilton at the end of his life, where
he died in 1878. He clearly looked back on his rural ancestral home with a
nostalgic memory, and most of his works, even if the title suggests they
concern other places, quickly turn their attention back to Kilton.
His books are
of their time, of the Victorian Age, and at times his language might be
dismissed as somewhat over cooked. Indeed he admits to
his ‘high flown language’’ in his introduction to his Saltburn work. He
fancied himself as a poet and some of his verses are better than others.
Whatever you make of his language however, the works provide a unique
perspective on the Victorian Age and of Cleveland at that time.
His stories
tell of French privateers, of smugglers, of a new Victorian seaside town, of
rural Yorkshire, of mining, of trading and of late eighteenth century and
Victorian society.
2. A Guide to Saltburn by the Sea by John Farndale
Old
Saltburn around Cat Nab, was an eighteenth century fishing village. It became a centre for
smugglers. In 1856, there was a hamlet around the Ship Inn, comprising a row of
houses where farmers and fishermen lived. The authors Laurence Sterne and John
Hall Stevenson raced chariots on the sands at Saltburn, but otherwise it was
but a small fishing hamlet.
In 1858, Henry
Pease visited his brother Joseph Pease who lived at Marske by the Sea. He
walked one day along the coastal path towards Old Saltburn and saw "a
prophetic vision of a town arising on the cliff and the quiet, unfrequented and
sheltered glen turned into a lovely garden". The Pease family
formed the Saltburn Improvement Company (“SIC”), which purchased
land from the Earl of Zetland. They employed George Dickinson as their surveyor
who designed a grid-iron street layout, with as many houses as possible having
sea views. The best locations were secured for the company and plots were then
sold to private developers. The Stockton and Darlington Railway was being
extended and reached Saltburn from Redcar in 1861.
John
Farndale was interested in the idea of Saltburn by the Sea,
as it was being designed and executed by the Pease family. He started to write
his Guidebook, A Guide to Saltburn by the Sea and the Surrounding District.
The work does describe the evolution of Saltburn by the Sea in some detail, but
he was more interested in the rural landscape inland from Saltburn, and
particularly his beloved Kilton.
The
First Edition was published in 1861, as the railway arrived in the new
town. A review of his Guide to Saltburn by
the Sea appeared in the Stockton Herald, South
Durham and Cleveland Advertiser on 21 Drecember 1861: REVIEW. A GUIDE
TO SALTBURN-BY-THE SEA. BY JOHN FARNDALE. The writer of this little book of
some thirty pages is a native of Kilton, an adjoining village to Saltburn, and as
a great part of the contents refers to this little village the book should be
called “the history of kilton, near Saltburn by the sea,” of which latter
place he had said little, for what can be said of a place till lately scarcely
heard of beyond its own fields. It is to become a noted place, for he
informs his readers that a hotel is being built to cost £31,000, building
sites are freely offered, and a building society is ready to advance
money on easy terms to any person desirous of speculating in bricks and
mortar. The description he gives of the surrounding country represents some
fine scenery of hill and dale; wood and water, which must tend to make Saltburn
by the Sea attractive to visitors. The writer of the “Guide” makes no
pretensions to authorship, and presents his readers with a sermon at the end,
occupying about a third of the book.
The Second Edition was published in 1863. The Stockton Herald, South Durham and Cleveland Advertiser, 4
September 1863: REVIEW. A GUIDE TO SALTBURN-BY-THE SEA. BY JOHN
FARNDALE. This little book has now reached a second edition, which we
think rather extraordinary. The author makes no pretensions to a literary
production, but has compiled an amusing book, and given a description of
Saltburn and the surrounding country in his quaint manner. Having been
born on a farm in the neighbourhood, and lived to be an old man, he has called
up memories of the departed who had figured their little day unseen
and unknown beyond the village or farm. The book contains a map of
Saltburn, and the country round, with a plan of the intended town, and a
view of Zetland Hotel. To most our of our readers in this in the distance, Saltburn
by the Sea is a name almost unknown. The Stockton and Darlington railway
company have made a line from Redcar to an out of the way place which
possesses some extraordinary natural appearances and fine sea beach. Here they
have erected a very spacious hotel to the east of some £30,000. A plan of
the town has been laid out, and several houses have been erected, with
the intention of making the place a summer resort for sea bathers. The author
of the guide has described the roads around the intended town's drives for
visitors, and has given matters matter which will afford amusement to the
readers. At present Saltburn contains but few buildings, but every
inducement is offered to encourage persons to build. The place is very is a
very pleasant one and may someday become a town when this little book will be
in demand.
The Work must have been popular, because by 1864, it was in
its fifth edition, which is reproduced in full below.
Guide to
Saltburn by the Sea and the Surrounding District
With remarks on its picturesque scenery
Fifth Edition
Dedicated to John
Thomas Wharton Esq of Skelton
Late of Skelton Castle Farm
Darlington
Printed by Charles W Hird
1864
(Available through the British Library)
The
Whartons
John
Wharton
was born John Hall-Stevenson (21 June 1765 – 29 May 1843). He was a British
landowner and MP. He was born the eldest son of John William Hall-Stevenson of
Skelton. His father was the same John Hall-Stevenson (1718 to March 1785), also
known as John Hall, a country gentleman and writer, who used to ride chariots
on the Saltburn sands. John Wharton was educated at the Royal School, Armagh,
Trinity College, Dublin and Lincoln's Inn. He succeeded his father in 1786, and inherited the ruinous Skelton Castle. In 1788 he
took the surname of Wharton when he succeeded to the fortune and estates of his
aunt Mrs Margaret Wharton. He then demolished the old Skelton Castle and
between 1788 and 1817 built a similarly named Gothic country house in its
place. He served as the Whig MP for Beverley from 1790 to 1796 and again from
1802 to 1826. By 1829 he was in debt and spent the next 14 years in the Fleet
Debtors Prison, where he died childless in 1843. He had married Susan Mary
Anne, the daughter of General John Lambton of Lambton, County Durham. They had
two daughters who both predeceased him and was succeeded by his nephew, John
Thomas Wharton.
John
Thomas Wharton, to whom John Farndale’s book is dedicated, was born in
York on 9 March 1795 and died at Tadcaster on 25 September 1871, aged 76. His
uncle, John Wharton died childless and in poverty in 1843 and Skelton devolved
to John Thomas Wharton of Gilling.
The
Farndales of Kilton. John Farndale’s books describe particularly the world in which
the Kilton
1 Line and the Kilton 3 Line of Farndales lived.
Introduction
When I
undertook to write my first “Guide to Saltburn by the Sea and Surrounding
Neighbourhood”, I had no thought that I would be called on for a second, a
third, or a fourth edition. To meet the wishes of my friends, I have added
additional Rambles, Drives, and Rides, an Alphabetical List of Chief Mansions,
with their respective distances, and a Supplement treating briefly on the
animal, vegetable and mineral aspect of the Cleveland district.
“And now I
mount above the sands,
And
in amazement see
The
mighty works that’s carried on
At
Saltburn by the Sea.”
I
thought of the Queen of Sheba, on her visit to Solomon, when she said “It was a sure report I heard in my own
land; but behold, the one half was not told me.”
Her Majesty Queen Victoria has most graciously
accepted my little tribute to Saltburn, and the work is now on the shelves of
the Palace of Windsor Castle.
Added are two
letters, one from Sir George Grey, and the
other from Sir C Phipps, acknowledging the
receipt of verses on the marriage of HRH the Price of Wales.
I now present
the fifth edition to the world, hoping again to have that charitable kindness
as heretofore.
The Author
August 1864
Sir
George Grey
(1799 to 1882) was a Whig politician. Sir Charles Beaumont Phipps (1801
to 1866) was a soldier and courtier.
Preface
In ushering
this humble production before the public, the author begs to say, that he is well aware of his incapacity, as regards possessing
scholastic attainments, to do justice to the subject which he would wish. The
reader will find, therefore, that he has made no attempt to express his ideas
in high flown language; but quite the reverse – as, in the homeliest phrase, he has recorded the events which occurred in his native
place, Kilton
and the neighbourhood, and which took place when spinning wheels ad woollen
wheels were industriously used by every housewife in the district, and long
before there were such things in the world as Lucifer
match boxes and telegraphs, or locomotives built to run, without horse
or bridle, at the astonishing rate of sixty miles an hour!
Sir
Isaac Holden MP had grown tired of using flint and steel to light his lamps and
started to explore the explosive qualities of chemicals. The idea soon got out
and in 1843 two Quaker merchants, Francis May and William Bryant set up a
partnership to import and then to manufacture ‘Lucifer’ matches. They
were soon in heavy demand.
Should this
little production, therefore, be found below mediocrity, the author hopes some
better educated person may take up the subject, and
treat it in a more able manner.
Some years ago,
when churches were more dilapidated than they are now, a worthy Divine was in
the habit of placing his sermon, when he entered the pulpit, in a crack in the
wall just behind it, for his convenience. One day a wag caught the reverend
gentleman placing his sermon in this crack, and unperceived he pushed it in a
little further. After reading prayers, the Divine turned to the crack in the
wall to get his sermon, when lo! what was his astonishment to find he could not
lay hold of it. He looked a little confounded – and still more confounded when
again he tried to get his discourse; but all in vain. He therefore colly turned
to his congregation, and said, “My dear brethren, I have a good sermon in this
crack of the wall if only I could get it out.” In like manner, the author may
say, “I have a stock of good ideas in my mind if only I could get them out.”
Step, however, into the vehicle, take my first day’s excursion with you, and
then return to dine at the new Hotel at Saltburn by the Sea.
JF
Saltburn-By-The-Sea
When I
attained the age of man,
I took a
trip to see
Those fine
hard well known golden sands
At Saltburn
by the Sea
I passed the
place where Esk was wrecked,
A sight most
sad to me,
When Dunbar
and his men lay dead,
Near
Saltburn by the Sea
The sea was
rough, and mountains high,
No storm could
greater be,
Near all on
board that ship were lost
At Saltburn
by the Sea
To view the
sands then strewed with wreck,
Was a sight
most sad to see,
That
noble ship, the Esk, broke up
Near
Saltburn by the Sea
So resolute
the night before,
The Captain said he’d be
In Whitby,
or far off next day,
Not Saltburn
by the Sea
Such sights
I wish to see no more,
O may they
never be;
Such loss of
life and ship by storm
Near
Saltburn by the Sea.
And now I
mount above the sands,
And in
amazement see
The mighty
works now carried on
At Saltburn
by the Sea
I gazed
delighted on the scene,
And found it
soon moved me,
To write a
book, a little book,
On Saltburn
by the Sea.
This little
book, this book of mine,
I wish you
all to see;
O mind you have
this little book
On Saltburn
by the Sea.
This little
book, this book of mine,
Will tell
where you should be,
To view the
lovely scenes around
New Saltburn
by the Sea.
Then when my
race on earth is run,
O may they
gather me,
Unto my
father’s father’s tomb,
Near
Saltburn by the Sea.
The wrecking of the Esk. The
350 to Whitby Waler, the Esk, was returning home
after a whaling expedition north of Shetland, during which four whales had been
caught. In 1816 the same ship had survived being trapped in ice on a voyage to
Greenland. Her Captain Dunbar passed Hartlepool as a gale started to drive her
towards the shore. The morning of 6 September 1826 was marked by strong winds,
mist and crashing surf. The Esk’s sails were soon
shredded and she became grounded at the low water mark off Marske on Sea. The
crew fired guns and burnt a distress light, but at dawn, she went to pieces.
Within seventeen hours she was a total wreck and her
riggings, timbers and cargo came ashore along miles of coastland. Only three
members of the twenty seven strong crew survived. A
memorial service was later held at St Mary’s Church, Whitby and 3,000 folk attended and took a collection for the bereaved
families.
In
October 2023, Storm Babet spewed a mysterious wooden structure that is thought
to have been the missing whaling boat.
Chris Scott Wilson
has written more about the tragedy.
The Zetland
Hotel
John Farndale’s 1862 map of the plans for the
new Saltburn by the Sea, Yorkshire
A Guide to
Saltburn-by-the-Sea and Neighbourhood
Part First
Saltburn by the
Sea lies about six miles SSE of the well
known watering place, Redcar, in Cleveland, in the North Riding
of Yorkshire, and stands on the shore of the German
Ocean, fronting fine hard sands stretching for miles, and where
frequently may be seen three hundred vessels in full sail passing to and fro. The west of this hamlet is bounded by a land “wherein
thou shalt eat bread without scarceness, thou shalt not lack anything in it – a
land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills though mayst dig brass.”
The
North Sea has had various names through history. Until the First World War,
before it became known as the North Sea, it was often referred to as the
"German Sea" or "German Ocean", or "Mare Germanicum".
Long live Messrs Bolcklow & Vaughan,
the first high spirited gentlemen, and others also, who by their skill and
capital are bringing out resources of this greatly favoured district, and thus
giving employment to thousands.
Bolckow, Vaughan & Co Limited was an English ironmaking and mining
company founded in 1864 with capital of £2.5M, making it the largest company
ever formed up to that time.
It
was founded as a partnership in 1840 by Henry Bolckow
and John Vaughan. In 1846, Bolckow and Vaughan built
their first blast furnaces at Witton Park, founding the Witton Park Ironworks.
The works used coal from Witton Park Colliery to make coke, and ironstone from
Whitby on the coast. The pig iron produced at Witton was transported to Middlesbrough
for further forging or casting. In 1850, Vaughan and his mining geologist, John
Marley discovered iron ore, conveniently situated near Eston in the Cleveland Hills.
Unknown to anyone at the time, this vein was part of the Cleveland Ironstone
Formation, which was already being mined in Grosmont
by Losh, Wilson and Bell. To make use of the ore being mined at Eston, in 1851 Bolckow and Vaughan built a blast furnace at nearby South
Bank, Middlesbrough, to make use of the ore from nearby Eston, enabling the
entire process from rock to finished products to be carried out in one place.
It was the first to be built on Teesside, on what was later nicknamed "the
Steel River".
Middlesbrough
grew from 40 inhabitants in 1829 to 7,600 in 1851, 19,000 in 1861 and 40,000 in
1871, fuelled by the iron industry. The firm drove the dramatic growth of
Middlesbrough and the production of coal and iron in the north-east of England
in the nineteenth century.
By
1864, the assets of the business included iron mines, collieries, and limestone
quarries in Cleveland, County Durham and Weardale and had iron and steel works
extending over 700 acres (280 ha) along the banks of the River Tees.
Vaughan
died in 1868. The Institution of Civil Engineers, in their obituary, commented
on the relationship between Vaughan and Bolckow:
"There was indeed something remarkable in the thorough division of
labour in the management of the affairs of the firm. While possessing the most
unbounded confidence in each other, the two partners never interfered in the
slightest degree with each other's work. Mr. Bolckow
had the entire management of the financial department, while Mr. Vaughan as
worthily controlled the practical work of the establishment."
Chris Scott Wilson
has written more about Bolckow, Vaughan & Co
From Saltburn south east there is a fine drive on a fertile ridge of land
to towering Huntcliff, where the scenery on all sides
is of the most delightful character, where “every prospect pleases”, and the
eye may gaze with rapture on a vast expanse of sea, land, woodland and
moorland. On this ridge stands the village of Kilton, the author’s birthplace.
The picturesque appearance of this place, its antique character, and the great
longevity of its inhabitants strike home to my fondest and earliest recollections.
I frequently imagine I still hear sounding in my ears the things our father’s
fathers told us, and which were done in their day and in the old time before
them. The days of ignorance, however, have departed. Our privileges are much
greater than our father’s fathers of old enjoyed; and, therefore, as the march
of intellect moves on at that rapid pace, more is expected at our hands. Yea,
during the last fifty years of Reform has been actively at work, and through
the length and breadth of the land Improvement has advanced with rapidity far
beyond all preceding times. We can now by telegraph communicate intelligence to
all parts of the world – we can breakfast in Edinburgh in the morning, dine in
London the same day, and proceed to France. What a contrast to what was done
seventy years ago! Men at that time had to grope their way, as it were, in the
world – though many persons even then as now rose to eminence and wealth.
Kilton Hall
as in ages past
Most
beautiful to all around,
Ah! ruthless
hand that gave command,
And now no
trace of it is found.
Kilton
formerly belonged to the Twings
and Lumleys, who were lords of the manor. Dr Waugh,
Dean of Carlisle, and Miss Waugh, into whose hands the estate came, sold it to
Mrs Wharton, and this lady made a present of it to the late J Wharton, Esq., of Skelton Castle,
MP for Beverley, a gentleman of memorable name. Here was built a neat hall,
much admired, and when the sun early in the morning cast its beams upon it and
lit its vast windows with Nature’s glory, it was a sight to affect the heart
and raise the thoughts to the Great Source of all beauty and splendour, both in
nature and grace. A spirit of jealousy led to this fine structure being pulled
down, and now not one stone on another remains to tell where it once stood,
except stables, granaries and coach houses, yet in good preservation. In this
township too stands an old Norman Castle. Few ruins in England can vie this
venerable relic of Norman architecture. There is also a fortress here, which in
the olden times must have been impregnable. This baronial fortress was no doubt
the most powerful one in Cleveland, and in the days of cross bows, broad
swords, and battle axes it would be quite secure. But when Cromwell, that
inveterate foe to all Roman edifices, came near, he heard and was led by the
bell at noon, to the opposite mount, levelled his destructive cannon against
this structure, and brought it to the ground.
Skelton
Castle
Skelton
Castle was the ruined medieval castle replaced by a Gothic style country
house between 1788 and 1817 by John Wharton.
The
castle was built of stone by Robert de Brus in 1140. It had two look-out
towers, dungeons, and a moat with a drawbridge and portcullis. In 1265 it was
surrendered to King Henry III. In 1272 it went to Walter de Fauconberg
and remained in the family for the next 200 years. In 1490 it was inherited by
William Conyers, when it was described as ruinous. From him it passed into the
Trotter family and then by marriage to the Hall family by the marriage of
Joseph Hall to Catherine Trotter. Their son John inherited and changed his name
to Hall-Stevenson after marrying Ann Stevenson. He formed the "Demoniacks" club who met at the ruins of the castle
for drinking bouts. His son, Joseph Hall-Stevenson, died within a year of
his father and thus Joseph's son John Hall-Stevenson (1766–1843) inherited the
castle. In 1788 he changed his name to John Wharton and was Member of
Parliament for Beverley between 1790 and 1820. He also demolished the castle
and replaced it by the current country house between 1770 and 1817.
The
present house is built of dressed sandstone with a roof of Lakeland slate. It
is a two-storey block with a 5-bay frontage. It incorporates some remains of
the medieval castle. The house was built c.1770 and extended in 1810-1817 by
Ignatius Bonomi. It was constructed between 1788 and 1817 for John Wharton,
Member of Parliament for Beverley who had inherited the ruined Skelton Castle
from his father Joseph Hall-Stevenson in 1786. John Wharton had changed his
name from Hall-Stevenson to Wharton to comply with the terms of a legacy. He
inherited a considerable fortune from his aunt, much of which he spent of
demolishing the castle and building his new home. He died childless and in
poverty in 1843 and Skelton devolved to his nephew John Thomas Wharton of Gilling.
The property then descended in the Wharton family to William Henry Anthony
Wharton, High Sheriff of Yorkshire for 1925, and on his death in 1938, to his
daughter Margaret Winsome Ringrose Wharton. She had married Christopher
Hildyard Ringrose, a Royal Navy captain, who had added the additional surname
of Wharton to that of Ringrose. She lived there until at least 1986, by which
time her relative, Major Wharton, actually ran the
estate on account of her age.
Kilton Hall
Sketched from
memory (as it stood in 1795) specially for the Guide, this being the birthplace
of the Author
“When
Cromwell came that way,
He heard the
bell at noon;
Fixed his
cannon as they say,
And brought
the castle down.”
Yet, not all – as some still remains,
cemented together like iron bound with ivy, for ages to come.
“All ruins
are lovely when o’er them is cast
The green
veil of ivy to shadow the past;
When the
rent and the chasm fearfully yawned,
By the moss
of the lichen are sweetly adorned.
When the
long grass doth carpet the desolate halls.
And tress
have sprung up in the old withered walls,
And woven a
curtain of loveliest green,
Where once
the rich folds of the damask were seen.
But such
thoughts are unheeded while idly we gaze,
On the
desolate grandeur of earlier days;
‘Tis the
wreck that is lovely, the wider the rent
The fuller
the view of the landscape is lent.
The wind
that now sighs through the tenantless hall
No thoughts
of loved voices to memory call;
All ruins
are lovely when o’er them is cast
The green
veil of ivy to shadow the past.”
Kilton formerly
contained a few tradesmen – namely two joiners, two coopers, two weavers, one
butcher, a publican, a water miller, a rag merchant, an old man with nine
children, two sailors, and a banker’s cashier. At one time it had four sailors
– one was taken prisoner in the French War, an old man, aged 87, and yet living
– another, a missionary to the French prisoners, died in France, aged 87, a
noble fellow, was formerly in the Life Guards. Seventy
years ago Kilton had eight farmers; it now has only
one. It had then fifty four children, now only seven –
then twenty four parents, now only five – and then nine old men and women rom
eighty to one hundred and five years of age. The inhabitants of this village,
as may be expected, were long lived; most of the old men were of the giant
tribe, their ages averaging at death eighty seven
years. My children’s children comprise the sixth generation of our family that
has lived at Kilton estate upwards of two hundred years.
In former days
the inhabitants of this district were Jacks, and Toms, and Mats; now they are
either Misters or Esquires, and thick as mushrooms around us. In those days
there were no Mistresses or Ladies among them, they were all Dames – there wore no silk gowns, no veils, no crinolines, no bustles;
but home spun garments, giving employment to the inhabitants, warmth and
comfort to the wearers, and lasting for fifty years. Specimens at home.
Kilton
stands unrivalled for its antiquity, and its beautiful scenery cannot be
excelled. The brightest and fairest scenes in Italy cannot be compared to the
lovely prospects which Nature displays in this secluded part of Cleveland. This
place stands on a ridge of rich loomy
land, with Huntcliffe on the north, known to all sea-men. On the east is the beautiful bay of Skinningrove
and the hall of AC Maynard Esq, formerly the residence of F Easterby Esq. Skinnngrove was once a noted
place for smuggling. On the north west is Old Saltburn
which was formerly considered the King of the Smuggling World. Near
which is New Saltburn, about to become one of the most fashionable sea bathing
places on the eastern coast, thanks to the enterprising gentlemen who conduct
the railway operations in this neighbourhood, and who are the public’s
benefactors, in a commercial, social point of view, and are indeed, in every
sense of the word, the friends of the people.
Old
Saltburn was the centre of a smuggling trade in the late eighteen century. The houses were closely packed and contraband was passed between houses and there
were secret rooms to evade the Excise men. Everyone seemed to be involved, from
locals, to farmers and landowners. Like Robin Hood, the general
view was that smugglers were harmless local folk, avoiding paying unfair tax.
Old Saltburn was a small fishing hamlet which was remote and close to hidden
beaches hidden by high cliffs, where smuggled goods could be landed.
Smuggling
itself was an accepted way of life for English coastal villages in the late
18th and early 19th Century and it was an activity performed by all sorts of
people across the social scale from farmhands to clergymen to local gentry.
Entire villages would turn out to help hide the contraband goods before the
arrival of the preventive officers. Folklore and local legend depicts the smugglers as harmless men, who were merely
trying to avoid paying an unlawful tax
The
late eighteenth century was a time of expensive wars against America and France
and heavy and unpopular taxes were imposed on imported goods such as gin, tea,
brandy and textiles to raise funds.
Tales of how
the local community out-witted the customs officers
soon became part of local folklore. One tale has an old woman hiding a keg of
spirits underneath her skirts whilst customs officers performed a spot raid of
her house. Another tale tells of a mother who found herself victim of a surprise
search wrapping a jar of spirit in her baby's clothes, and walking past the
guards with it cradled in her arms.
Saltburn's most
famous smuggler was John Andrew. Born in Scotland, John Andrew moved to
Saltburn and became landlord of the village's Ship Inn in 1780. Andrew's
Scottish family were wealthy and well connected and in Saltburn he was a
respected member of the community. He entered into a
partnership with a local brewer and co-ordinated the area's smuggling trade
from the Ship Inn and the White House. His grand daughter
christened him 'King of the Smugglers' and he came close to being arrested
on a number of occasions. He managed to combine being
one of the areas most prolific criminals with a
position in the branch of the local militia which was occasionally called
upon to help the customs officers in their pursuit of the smugglers. Legend
has it that John Andrews had a secret cellar underneath one of his stables
where he deliberately kept a vicious mare who could be counted upon to kick and
bite any strangers.
Battles
between the customs men and the smugglers were frequent, fierce and violent and severe
injuries were often sustained during these altercations. Legend and folklore
portray the smugglers as lovable rogues. In reality these
were violent men prepared to assault the excise men.
A
book about John Andrew called 'Watch the Wall my Darling' has been written by Richard Swale.
When
the Napoleonic Wars came to an end, the Saltburn smugglers came under
increasing pressure from customs officers. Forced to unload his latest cargo
further a field, John Andrews found himself at
Blackhall, north of Hartlepool, when he was discovered by customs officers.
Legend has it that he galloped across the Tees, whose level was apparently very
low, to Coatham. He then asked the Coatham coastguard
for the time in order to give him an alibi. The judge
at his trial reasoned that he could not have travelled across the River Tees in
the time that had elapsed, and so could not have been at Blackhall.
In
Saltburn, Andrews was a respected member of the community. In 1817 he was
elected Master of the newly formed Cleveland Hounds, demonstrating his
high standing in the area. Andrews also managed to combine being one of the
area’s most prolific criminals with a prominent position in the Corps of
Cleveland Pioneer Industry. Ironically, this branch of the local militia was
occasionally called in to assist preventive officers in their battle against
smugglers! After several near misses, Andrew was finally arrested in Hornsea in
1827 and jailed for two years in York Castle. He died in 1835 at the age of seventy four.
The
smugglers of Saltburn
John Andrews relaxing in his chair.
"
IF you wake at
midnight, and hear a horse's feet, Don't go drawing
back the blind, or looking in the street, Them that ask no questions isn't told
a lie. Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by.
Five-and-twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark -
Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk; Laces for a lady; letters for a
spy, And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! Running round the wood
lump if you chance to find Little barrels, roped and
tarred, all full of brandy-wine, Don't you shout to come and look, nor use 'em for your play. Put the brish
wood back again - and they'll be gone next day ! If
you see the stable-door setting open wide; If you see a tired horse lying down
inside; If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore; If the lining's wet and
warm - don't you ask no more ! If you meet King
George's men, dressed in blue and red, You be careful
what you say, and mindful what is said. If they call you " pretty
maid," and chuck you 'neath the chin, Don't you tell where no one is,
nor yet where no one's been
! Knocks and footsteps round the house - whistles after dark
- You've no call for running out till the house-dogs bark. Trusty's here, and
Pincher's here, and see how dumb they lie They don't fret to follow when the
Gentlemen go by ! 'If You do as you've been told,
'likely there's a chance, You'll be give a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood - A present from the Gentlemen,
along 'o being good ! Five and twenty ponies, Trotting
through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Them that asks
no questions isn't told a lie - Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen
go by !" (The
Smuggler’s Song, Rudyard Kipling, 1906)
I might go on
for ever to dwell on the beautiful scenery around New Saltburn and the
interesting associations with it, but I am afraid of trespassing on the
forbearance of my readers. The age we now live in is for raking up riches – for
there are so many Demas like so living in the world that they have lost all
relish for simple details of former times delivered by a grave man like me; but
in drawing pubic attention to those hitherto hidden hamlets, dear to every old
fashioned Yorkshireman, and which will probably very shortly create more
notice, I hope that some ambler pen will take this subject up and do justice in
describing this part of the country.
When
only four or five years of age I remember my
father’s father
telling what was done in those days and the old time before them. Many things
then told were deemed most important to those of us who then lived together in
a state of primitive simplicity, far removed from the occurrences which now
surround us. I can refer back to what might have ended
in death, but which by over-ruling Providence was otherwise ordered. It was
ordained that even to me was given an errand to fulfil, which I am at this time
feebly endeavouring to discharge:- namely, to do good
in my day and generation.
I remember a draw well stood near the
house of my father’s foreman. One day I was looking into this
well at the bucket landing, when I fell head foremost. The foreman perceiving
the accident, immediately ran to the well to witness, as he thought, the awful
spectacle of my last end. I had on at the time a pair of breeches, with brass
buckles on my shoes (silver ones were worn by my
father
and others), and to his great astonishment, he found me not immersed in water
at the bottom of the well, but dangling head foremost from the top of a single
brass buckle, which had somehow caught hold.
Since this accident I have ever been
thankful for my wonderful deliverance, I am now an old man, yet I hope my
humble production will by many be found worthy of perusal. I only profess to
commit to paper a few thoughts as they spring up in my mind, but what I relate
may probably reduce the reader to seek other works for further information; my
only wish at present being to draw public attention to this most interesting
district in Cleveland, which has hitherto been little known, comparing modern
with things in times of old.
Come and see
the oddist old men,
Paul, Page
and poor auld Willy Swales.
For my life
now I dinna ken
Which odd
man tells the oddest tales.
I recollect one family named Swales noted for oddness and singularity
of manners. When they dined together
they all dipped into one dish. The parent once called out for bread, exclaiming
“I eat bread to every thing.”
A little urchin answered “Now, Fadder, thou lies, thou doesn’t eat bread to cake!” When the old man
died, a large multitude gathered at his funeral. He was brought through Kilton
to Brotton to be buried, and this youth was noticed last at the grave side, and
looking into the grace he at length broke the silence and said “Farewll, fadder!” and a second
time he said, “Farewell, fadder!” and a third time,
with all his might, making the welkin ring, he exclaimed, “Farewell, fadder!” and then left the graveside with a sad heart and a
sorrowful countenance. The end of this rough, untutored fellow was untimely. In
an evil hour his cart overturned over him, and two nights and a day he lay
dying. The following lines he intended for his tombstone:-
“Whea
lies here? Whea dye think?
Poor Willy Swales, he loved a drop o’
drink.
Drink to him as you pass by,
For poor Willy Swales was always dry.”
There
was another servant of my father’s, named Ralph Page, equally as singular
as Willy Swales. As Ralph was once busily ploughing, a
French Privateer, threatening land at Skinningrove, fired into the town.
Those in the district who had guns assembled on the cliffs and fired a volley
in return. To intimidate the enemy the women mustered strong and attired in red
cloaks and shouldering sticks, to represent a body of soldiers, they stood far
away in the distance. Ralph took little notice of the privateer, not bothering
his head either with the French or the English, only they let him be, when a
young woman passing in haste, cried out “Ralph, French is landing.”. Ralph,
turning round, with the greatest coolness replied, “Then run yam, and sup all’t cream,” and unconcerned he ploughed away as though
nothing was the matter.
The
incident of the red cloaks is not unlike another incident in February
1797 when a small force of 1,400 French landed
accidentally in Fishguard, Pembrokeshire in an
effort to burn Bristol. They quickly surrendered after seeing a group of Welsh
women dressed in red cloaks, who they thought to be a Ridgment
of soldiers. Perhaps thousands of local Welsh women dressed in their
traditional scarlet tunics and tall black felt hats had come to witness any
fighting between the French and the local men of the militia. The by then
inebriated invasion force mistook them for Redcoats.
In the late eighteenth
century, the Skinningrove coastline was raided by an American privateer
captained by Paul Jones. A privateer was a privately owned armed ship which
could be commissioned by a Government to fight in
wartime. Some owners were little more than legalised pirates but at the time -
1779 - America was at war with England, seeking independence. Paul Jones was a Commodore in
the American navy, born in Scotland. After raiding the Cumberland coast he was determined to plunder Whitby, then a wealthy
port. He appeared off Skinningrove, fired into the village and then sent his
men ashore on a raiding party before heading for Whitby. His ship was fired
upon by soldiers who manned a battery above where the Spa now stands, but their
cannon exploded and hurled two soldiers to their death onto the rocks below.
On 20 September 1779, the
bailiffs of Scarborough sent an urgent message to Bridlington to say that a
hostile squadron of ships, captained by the notorious Paul Jones, had been
sighted. Three days later four vessels - Bonhomme Richard, Alliance, Pallas and
Vengeance - entered the bay off Sewerby between
Bridlington and Flamborough Head, causing the local people to hide their
valuables and take shelter. But Jones was not interested in small gains - he
was after a much bigger prize. A fleet of English merchantmen was moving along
the coast, protected by two men-o'-war, the Seraphis
and Countess of Scarborough, and they were trying to reach Scarborough
harbour for protection by cannons positioned in Scarborough Castle. They
didn't make it.
In spite
of Jones' superior strength
and firepower, the two English ships fought bravely and indeed, the Seraphis was more manoeuvrable than Jones' Bonhomme
Richard. Crowds stood on Filey cliffs to watch this most remarkable of
sea battles, with Bonhomme Richard ramming the Seraphis
until the two were locked in what was described as a deadly embrace. The crews
then engaged in hand-to-hand fighting and close cannon fire. Although the
Countess of Scarborough was beaten, the gallant Seraphis
continued to inflict severe damage on the Bonhomme Richard, so much so that the
ship's master gunner hauled down her flag. But Jones fought on until fire from
other American vessel, followed by a cruel explosion on Seraphis
caused her master, Captain Pearson, to surrender. Jones then abandoned the
Bonhomme Richard with many injured crewmen still on board,
and commandeered the Seraphis to claim
victory. For more than 36 hours, Jones tried to save his stricken ship but,
badly holed and damaged by fire, she sank on September 25 with her pennant
still fluttering. Paul Jones watched her sink, thus making this the only known
occasion when a maritime commander won a battle and then left the scene in a
beaten ship. Some reports say Jones left his injured crew members to go down
with her.
The
next day the king’s cutter arrived, and the privateer and her had an
engagement, when the Frenchmen were beaten and the vessel taken, to the great
joy of the inhabitants of the surrounding district.
Here let me narrate one anecdote more or
a man whom I well knew, and who lived and died at Moorsholm. There was an
assize trial at York, about a water course running under ground, and Paul, for
that was the man’s name, who was a fine upright fellow, with a high brow and a
bluff face, had to appear as a witness on the occasion. When Paul went into the
witness box, the counsellor on the opposite side having silenced a man of
letters, very promptly said to Paul, as he stared at him, “Well Mr Baconface, and what have you to say on the subject?” “Whya.” Replied Paul, with a significant grin, “If my bacon
face and thy calf face were boiled together they wad mak good broth!” The councillor looked abashed, and the
whole court roared with laughter. The counsellor recvering
his self possession, then tried to put Paul into a
fix about the watercourse by inquiring what he knew about it, and in a
triumphant tone of voice he said, “And how, my man, do you know that the same
water ran out of the course that ran into it?” “How did I know that?”
reiterated Paul, “Whya, I tuek
care thou sees t’ muddy watter before it went in, and
it cam out muddy.” The court enjoyed a hearty laugh,
and the result was, the learned councillor lost his cause.
Kilton
Hall was a very neat building, with stables, coach houses, lawns and
plantations, and the old castle adjoining had a fine bowling green and
excellent fish
ponds,
fed by a rivulet running through a field close by, and which was in a good
state of preservation until it was lately filled up and ploughed. Contiguous to
the old castle walls there was a fine orchard, which I had the management of
about fifty years ago. But this has nearly gone into decay – the towering pear
and other fruit trees have become leafless and dead, and withered like an old
man ripe from the grave. Such are the changes which a few years make. Thus, it
is with inanimate things, so it is with us. We must all fade as a flower, we
must all die, for all flesh is grass. “The grass withereth,
the flower fadeth, but the word of the Lord endureth for ever”.
Here, let me
not forget to notice that, in this enchanting park, rich preserves of game of
all kinds, especially that most beautiful bird the pheasant, are numerous, and
almost all other game. I have seen rise out from new sown wheat, in my father’s castle field, no less than eighty
pheasants at one time. Fifty years later, on my last visit to the old castle, I
saw rise out of the same field fifty beautiful pheasant cock, when they soon
buried themselves in the vast forest around the old castle. It was here Redman, the poacher’s gun burst and blew out his eye. It was
also here Frank, the keeper, shot a large eagle near the old castle, which is
now preserved.
The
picturesque scenery, however, in this neighbourhood still retains its
loveliness, and the late John Wharton, Esq., of Skelton Castle, did much to improve
its beauty. On every side where there was any waste land
he planted it with wood to a great extent, and a large number of larches and
oaks then planted, I planted with my own hands. On visiting this place lately,
what was my astonishment on perceiving that many of these larches were cut and
measured fifty cubic feet, while the oaks were in thriving condition and
measured twenty four cubic feet. The site of these
plantations is delightful, as they are finely sheltered from the piercing north
winds.
The scenery of these woodlands, together
with the woods of Lady Downs and the Earl of Zetland, appear so truly
picturesque from Kilton height that it is utterly impossible for my pen to
describe it. Beyond these woodlands rise in view the village of Lofthouse, with
the Alum Works, and the seat of the late Sir Robert Dundas. These works are now
superintended by William Hunton Esq., an old school
fellow of mine. A little further on lies Easington and Boulby Alum Works,
conducted by G Westgarth, Esq., a gentleman much
respected. Still further, situate on the sea shore,
stands the well known fishing village of Staithes, formerly proverbial for the
roughness and rudeness of its inhabitants. Though rough, however, they were
then as they are now a hardy, kind, and hospitable people, who obtain a living
by braving the perils of the great deep. Poor Thrattles,
once reckoned the King of Staithes, and who was a good fellow, is now no more,
and the place is much changed since bis days. But the reader, perhaps may not
care about lingering at Staithes, so we shall take our stand again on Kilton
How Hill, from whence may be seen the most delightful scenery in the district.
Camdon, speaking of Kilton and Kilton
Old Castle, says – “It is situated in a park belonging to the ancient family of
Thwings and Lumleys. Baron
Lumley, of Kilton Castle, died in battle, having joined the Earl of Kent and
others in the insurrection to restore King Richard, then deposed. Kilton
manors, for there were two, became forfeited to the Crown, but restored to the Thwings and Lumleys by Henry the
Fourth, and by marriage to William Tulley, Esq., who
died at Kilton Hall, and interred in Brotton Chancel, 1741, aged 72 years, his
tablet tells, then to Dr Waugh, of Carlisle, and next in kin to Miss Wharton,
of Thirsk Hall, a rich old lady, and this lady presented it to her nephew, J
Hall Wharton Esq., MP, as a gift, and now it is the
property of JT Wharton Esq., Skelton Castle. At the
above date Kilton Hall was then a beautiful building, (see plate) much admired.
Had two wings, and massive stone pillars to the entrance hall, with its vast
windows, coach houses, stables, and pigeon court, yet remaining in good
preservation. The coach road lay through the High street,
and at that time there were five houses on each side, five on the east, six on
the Low0gate – twenty one in number, and the hall, three houses tiled, the rest
thatched, and many mud walls. But the hall, a neat specimen of architecture and
masonry, was built of free stone. Connected with which was the fish ponds and orchard. At the old castle and until lately,
the ponds and bowling green were as perfect as when new, having within two or
three years been filled in and ploughed.”
From Kilton How
Hill we have a fine view of the German ocean, Skinningrove, Saltburn, Huntcliff, Roe-cliff, Eston Nab, Roseberry Topping, Handle
Abbey and Danby beacon. Here, too, at not much distance from each other, may be
seen no fewer than five beacons, formerly provided with barrels of tar to give
the necessary alarm to the people if Buonaparte at that period had dared to
invade our peaceful shores. After the great battle of Waterloo, and Buonaparte
had been taken prisoner, that glorious event was celebrated at Brotton by
parading his effigy through the street and burning it before Mr R Stephenson’s hall, amidst the rejoicings of high and low,
rich and poor, who drank and danced to the late hour. The author formed one of
a band of musicians that played on the occasion, and he composed a song
commemorating the event, which became very popular in that part of the country.
Brotton bever before or since saw the like of that memorable day.
On the right of
Kilton is the seat of John Thomas Wharton Esq., of
Skelton Castle, and formerly the seat of the late John Wharton Esq., of blessed memory, and many years member of
parliament for Beverley. The present Skelton Castle,
comparatively speaking, is a modern structure. Nothing now, it is said, remains
of the castle in the olden time, nor of the baronial fortress of De Brus. A
writer speaking on this subject says. That “It was built about 1140, and was a beautiful specimen of antiquity and
picturesque loveliness, being nearly surrounded by a deep glen, finely wooded.”
In the year 1783, the whole of this beautiful edifice was pulled down, and in
its stead, the present castle was erected; but though it may not be thought
equal in splendour and beauty to its ancient predecessor, yet standing, as it
does, in the centre of sylvan landscapes, which scarcely can be surpassed for
loveliness, and being associated with recollections of the chivalrous
achievements and illustrious history of the De Bruces, who resided here many
years after the Norman conquest, this castle and its environs will always be
looked upon with more than usual interest by the antiquarian and the tourist.
The present possessor of this large and ancient domain being fond of
agricultural pursuits, has been indefatigable in improving the property since
he came into possession of it, and no gentleman could have done more than he
has towards making the poor of the district comfortable by alloting
them portions of land and building them more commodious abodes.
Reminiscence of
Skelton Castle
I ask, may I
compose I line?
Most proud
indeed I’d be,
Where Kings
and Queens, and noble men
Those merry
days had seen.
The brave De
Brus, the Fauconberg,
Vast numbers
yet beside,
Conyers, Trotters,
Whartons, Halls,
That once
did here abide.
And I’ve
been there, and gone again,
And yet
another time,
Where Kings
and Queens made merry days,
And so it was with mine.
There’s many
a giant noble mind,
Like pearls
in gold, not seen,
That only
wants the wedge thin edge
To tell us
where they’d been.
Our late
dear squire we did admire,
His heart
would melt and soar;
He left this
pile, he went awhile,
We never saw
him more.
Oh, had he
known those fields of stone
That
Cleveland hils have risen,
He’d never sigh’d or pined away
Those long
dark years in prison.
His castle
yet, this noble pile,
Stands
bright and fresh as ever;
So let it
stand, and grace tis land,
And change
its name – no never.
Beyond the castle
of Skelton lie the ruins of Guisbro’ Abbey, Guisbro’ Alum Works, the seat of Captain Chaloner, of Long
Hull Hall; Upleatham Hall, the seat of the Earl of Zetland, Lord Lieutenant of
the county, and Grand Master of the Masonic Lodges of all England; also
Kirkleatham Hall, with its far famed Hospital, the seat of the Honourable Mrs
Newcomen, formerly the residence of Sir Charles Turner, and one of the most
beautiful places in the world. Further is the well known
watering place, Redcar, and between is modest Marske, which has recently been
rising into importance, where stands the seat of HW Yeoman, Esq.,
formerly the seat of the Honourable Lord Dundas, a name ever to be remembered.
Two or three
hundred yards from Marske, commanding a most beautiful view of the broad ocean,
appears the residence of Joseph Pease, Esq. This
elegant structure, with its lofty turrets, stands on the summit of one of the
hills which ascend here from the shore of the German ocean, where the sands,
both smooth and hard, stretch for miles, and where there are a few sea bathing
machines and every convenience for that healthful exercise. In front of this
mansion there is an extensive terrace, displaying on each side a profusion of
beautiful shrubs and flowers, which, in the summer months, shed a pleasing
fragrance around. A more delightful residence cannot be conceived. Long may the
kind owner of this delightful retreat live to enjoy it. Mr
Joseph Pearse has long since earned for himself a good name and independence.
He is a friend and a friend indeed, and as a useful member of Society, as an
active and intelligent worker for the benefit of the public at large, and
lastly, as a worthy man, whose acts of charity have done much to lessen the
amount of human suffering, his name will be handed down from generation to
generation with every mark of honour and respect.
Joseph became treasurer of the Stockton & Darlington
Railway at the age of 25. With the railway in need of expansion and a more
convenient port necessary to export the harvest of the Durham coalfields, the
company sought a site for a terminus on the lower Tees. Further up, the river
was treacherous and almost unnavigable, only small craft of shallow draught
capable of reaching Stockton and Yarm. The new port was to be called Port
Darlington. In the face of heavy opposition from Stockton and Yarm industrialists,
who knew a new port lower down the river would steal much of their business, it
was Joseph Pease who became prime mover in lobbying parliament to grant the
necessary Act for the Middlesbrough Railway Extension.
With his five sons and his brother Henry, he formed a company
called Pease & Partners. By 1840 when Middlesbrough showed signs of
stagnating, it was clearly in his interest as one of The Owners and as a
director of Pease & Partners to attract alternative industry. The move he
made was to offer Henry Bolckow and John Vaughan
land on easy terms and give them letters of introduction when they started
their iron business.
Joseph was elected to Parliament in 1832, representing South
Durham, and became the first Quaker to sit in the Commons. He campaigned
against corruption and slavery while fervently supporting human
rights and religious freedom. He proposed and carried a clause in the
Metropolitan Police Bill prohibiting the common pastimes of bull and bear
baiting, and also sat on many committees dealing
with industry. Re-elected in 1835 and 1837 he eventually resigned from
parliament in 1841 because of heavy business commitments.
As the railways pushed east beyond Redcar, Pease & Partners expanded
into ironstone mining. In 1853 they opened the Hutton Lowcross mine near
Guisborough. Soon, they owned Upleatham, Skinningrove and Hob Hill (Saltburn)
mines, between them annually producing almost a million tonnes of ore. By 1875,
eight and a half million tonnes of ironstone, limestone, coal and coke were
being transported, most of which was used in Teesside’s iron industry.
Joseph Pease was fond of the Cleveland coast. Shortly after
retiring from parliament, in 1844 he bought several fishermen’s cottages on the
seafront at Marske, demolished them then used the site to build Cliff
House where his family spent their summers.
It was from there one afternoon in 1859 his brother Henry took a
stroll over the sandbanks to discover the old village of Saltburn.
Returning breathless, he stated his intention to build a new town on top of
the cliff. With some help from brother Joseph and the Stockton &
Darlington Railway, he succeeded, naming it Saltburn by the Sea.
Chris Scott Wilson has written more about Joseph Pease,
‘the man who started it all’.
On
the north of Kilton may be seen gigantic Huntcliff
rearing its hoary summit towards the clouds, and to the south
rises majestic Freebro’, 500 feet high, of a beautiful pyramid
shape. A few years ago, near to this hill, one of the most tragic scenes ever
enacted took place. A young mother, shocking to relate, deliberately took the
life of her own son, only three years of age. She murdered the poor innocent in
broad daylight, and afterwards quartered him in the most barbarous manner, for
which she was tried and deservedly transported for life. From this noted hill
you have in view an area of ten square miles, and as you gaze on the woodlands
and varied fields below, the whole appears like a beautiful picture of
patchwork, on which the eye may dwell with the most pleasant sensations.
“Art hath charms most attractive; but
Nature displays
The wonderful woods of the Ancient of Days;
Those hills from the world’s foundation
have stood,
Midst the tempest of storm and the
deluging flood;
And there shall they stand unapproach’d by decay
When the proud works of art shall have
faded away:
Till the last glorious sun shall
illumine the sky,
And beneath their huge piles in oblivion
shall lie.
Yes! those hills we now view shall
relapse at the sound
When the Archangel’s trump through the
earth shall rebound;
Then bow their high heels, shiver,
crumble, and fall,
Midst Creation’s greatest consummation
of all.”
We now with
much pleasure return to Saltburn by the Sea, where we again view the broad
expanse of the ocean, with its ever restless waves
rolling towards the shore. Here stands the conic hill,
Cat Nab, where formerly many ship
loads of contraband goods, of every description, were landed. Round this hill my father used
annually to bring thousands of corf rods to ship for
the coal pits in the north, where they are not now used. What activity there
was then at this place, when a vessel lay on the beach to be loaded with rods,
which were brought to the seaside in waggons accompanied by eight or ten men,
under the superintendence of my father, William Farndale,
well known to John Wharton Esq., who by the sale of
these rods received many hundreds of pounds.
To
the geologist and curious both Saltburn and Huntcliff
offer great attractions. The latter place is one of the boldest and highest
promontories on the east coast, where the cormorant, the gull, and other sea
birds, in their cloud-caped habitations, unmolested breed in vast numbers,
unless scared away from their airy homes by some adventurous sportsmen, when he
awokes the echoes of the rocks by the rude report of
his deadly weapon.
How often here on a fine summer’s eve
have I strolled to this most retired and enchanting retreat, Huntcliff, with my gun, to enjoy a sport of shooting the
sea bird darting up the cliff over-head; an advantageous sport, when an
ordinary marksman need not fail to bag a brace or two. This retreat was part of
my Huntley Hall farm, and is only a short drive from
Saltburn-by-the-Sea. And on this retired place have passed many hundred horse
loads of smuggled goods; this was the private road of old. I do not know any
place equal for such an extensive view (if you step up to the beacon above) of
sea and land. Here you stand 150 yards above the level of the sea, and here you
stretch your eye on the German ocean from Whitby to Tynemouth, Sunderland and
Hartlepool; and you can here view the counties of Durham, Westmoreland, and the
Yorkshire hills; both sea and land are most interesting with a glass. From this
hill you look down on the dark blue ocean below and you see a fleet of ships
far and near, so near below you as to believe them sporting on those dangerous
rocks, when again they reach away majestically, and you can hear and see the
jolly tars, merrily employed in their dangerous seafaring life, shifting sail
and mainsail, on the great dee below. You here stand on this mountain ridge
apparently safe rom danger, yet danger is always near: even here I have
suffered loss of stock. Once a fine colt somehow trespassed near the cliff, and
fearful to say it bounced down this awful precipice twenty yards from the base
below, its bowels gushing out yards beyond. On these rocks how many a seaman
has found a watery grave, and many a fine ship has been wrecked.
At
present Saltburn-by-the-Sea, as a watering place, is only in embryo; but the
natural advantages it possesses for sea bathing, and the beautiful scenery in
its immediate environs, will, no doubt, by the united energy and enterprising
spirit of the gentlemen who form the “Saltburn Improvement Company”, continue
to render it superior to most of the watering places in the north, particularly
as it is now favoured with a railway communication to all parts of Great
Britain. In furtherance of this important undertaking, the Company alluded to
are now offering for sale a number of
freehold building sites, in suitable lots for villas, dwelling houses, and
cottages, presenting a desirable investment to builders and capitalists.
Already the hand of improvement has effected a
revolution at this place. To make it in every way attractive, a large amount of
money has been expended; spacious terraces, with winding walks, and pleasure
grounds most beautiful, are now formed, besides a magnificent hotel, built at a
cost of £31,000, a similar structure to those on the esplanade at Scrabro’; a beautiful block of buildings is proposed to be
erected – the plans of which are exhibited – for the magnificent suite of
Assembly Rooms, which will cost another £20,000 or £30,000. It is not,
therefore, extravagant to suppose, that in a short
period Saltburn-by-the-Sea will be made to eclipse in comfort and beauty many
of those fashionable places of resort to which many thousands now flock in the
bathing season. Within the last thirty years West Hartlepool, with its
extensive docks and shipping, and its 15,000 inhabitants, has risen into
mercantile importance – Middlesbro’, too, with its numerous iron works, its
blazing furnaces, and its 20,000 inhabitants, has become in equally as short a
period a hive of industry, trade, and commerce – then why, I ask, may not
Saltburn-on-the-Sea, with its wide spreading sands, its romantic scenery, and
its healthful position, this soon become the favourite resort of the invalid
and the ELITE in the fashionable world?
In imagination even now I see its
splendid hotels forming a crescent above Old Saltburn – I see an extensive
terrace in front, and gravel walks winding along the brow of the hill – I see
handsome streets springing into existence, new roads forming for drives through
the surrounding beautiful vales – and I see groups of gay visitors, in all
directions, promenading the sands, and the walks, and the terrace, as though
the place had become as it were a second Scarbro’. But away with these
imaginings – the sun I perceive is now sinking beyond the spreading woods of
Upleatham, the “glimmering landscape” is fading on the view, so we shall now
rest until another day, bearing in mind the following beautiful lines of the poet:-
“Tired
Nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,
He like the
world his ready visit pays
Where
fortune smiles: the wretched he forsakes,
Swift on his
downy pinions flies from woe,
And lights
on lids unsullied with a tear.”
Part Second
Awake,
salute the happy morn,
Arise with
healthful glee,
And joyful
walk the golden sands
At Saltburn
by the Sea
Here you for
miles may stretch your eye
Where
rippling waves roll free,
And stately
ships are passing by
New Saltburn
by the Sea
These sands
no human hands require,
So hard, so
smooth they be,
None such as
those from Redcar rocks
To Saltburn
by the Sea
How good,
how great, how infinite
The
three-one Deity,
Who made the
heavens, the sea, the earth,
That man
their lord should be.
O can you
view the heavens above,
The ocean’s face,
the flowery lea,
And not
admire the Maker’s skill
At Saltburn
by the Sea.
Pray now
retrace your wandering steps,
To dinner
take or tea,
Inhale the
breeze as you return
To Saltburn
by the Sea
The table
spread at the Hotel
How happy
you will be,
When every
dainty you can have
At Saltburn
by the Sea
Scorn not
the bard of humble worth
Though
feeble be his lays
He vies not
with the great on earth,
Nor seeks to
court their praise.
He asks no
fame, no monument,
To mark his
final home,
For nobler
bards alone deserve
A monumental
stone.
At
the conclusion of the previous part
I have given an imaginative sketch of what I conceive New
Saltburn may become in a few years. Some of my readers may think he too
sanguine in my views on this point; but when the magnificent position of this
place is considered, together with the fact that it is now in the hands of the
enterprising gentlemen who have formed to Saltburn Improvement Society, and who
have both the capital and the energy to carry out their objects, I can come to
no other conclusion, than, as a first rate sea bathing place, it will soon rise
into importance and become a favourite resort of the public.
At
present the hand of industry is busily engaged at New Saltburn. Hundreds of
labourers of various descriptions, are daily employed erecting buildings,
cutting new walks, forming rural seats and grottos, and carrying out the plans
of the projectors. The “Zetland Hotel”, to
which I previously alluded, being now completed, stands on a lofty aclivity, about one hundred yards from the sea shore, with
a broad carriage road in front, and commands on the left a most magnificent
view of the broad ocean, the bold rocky headlands of Huntcliff,
Roecliff, and Boulby in front, and on the right the
picturesque woodland scenery in the ravine or dell on whose lofty banks it is
situated, and which extend to the retired village of Skelton, a distance of
about two miles. The northern extremity of these banks is now the property of
the Saltburn Improvement Society, and here a variety of winding walks have
already been formed, where the eye of the visitor may delight to dwell on a
wide expanse of ocean, the boldest coast scenery, the innumerable hills and
vales, presenting altogether a delightful prospect. The walks here are so
arranged to lead to an extensive piece of ground, which the Company have laid
out in pleasure gardens; laid out in a style that tend to enhance the enjoyment
of the rambler in this terrestrial paradise. The noble wood to the south of
these gardens is at present the property of the Earl of Zetland. This wood
extends for some miles along the banks of the vale, and it contains numberless
trees, the growth of centuries. Running through the middle of it is a pleasant
walk, which the Earl of Zetland, with a liberality that does him infinite
credit, has granted the visitors at New Saltburn full permission to enjoy.
Newly erected, on the opposite side, is Bell’s beautiful hall, Rush Pool.
The Zetland Hotel at
Saltburn by the Sea was designed by William Peachey and developed by Henry
Pease. The foundations were laid by the Earl of Zetland on 2 October 1861. When
it opened the rates for a room ranged from 2s 6d to 4s 6d. Click here for a history of the
Zetland Hotel.
The
terminus of the Stockton and Darlington railway at New Saltburn is at the back
of the hotel. Here a splendid station is erected. It is more than 300 feet in
length, with extensive waiting rooms, and is a most elegant structure. On each
side of the railway a number of streets are projected, with a parade
ground, and a spacious terrace, commanding a fine prospect of the German ocean
and the adjacent country. Some of these streets to the east of the railway are
now erected. About thirty houses, three stories high. Some flagged in front,
with spacious shops, having plate glass windows, have already been built, and
others are advancing towards completion, so that Saltburn by the Sea already
begins to assume the appearance of a town. The houses have an elegant
appearance, as they are built of fire bricks from Pearse’s West,
and appear to be quite in keeping with the elegance of the new Railway
Station and the Hotel.
A writer of an article headed “A Day
Out”, and which appeared some time ago in a provincial paper, speaking of
Saltburn on the Sea, says, “Although, at present, it is like Paddy’s fortune,
‘an sure all to come yet’, nevertheless the site chosen is one of the most
beautiful of Nature’s pictures of marine and inland painting the eye can
imagine.”
I think there cannot be a question
respecting the judgement displayed in the selection by the promoters, and as
little doubt of the success of the enterprise, if they only display equal
discretion in embellishing, for unquestionably there stares them in the face
this admonishment – Beware of spoiling nature. They must not attempt to do too
much; nor interfere with Nature’s arrangements, but simply make good her few,
her very few shortcomings. If not, they will surely spoil one of the most lovely spots on earth for human recreation and health –
security. Let the doctors talk as they may about their tonics and restoratives,
there cannot be a doubt that at this place Nature has thrown her immutable
tonic – pure air – broad-cast.
At the foot
of the steep aclivity on which New Saltburn stands, runs a
small rivulet, called Skelton Beck, and two or three hundred yards further to
the south east appears Old Saltburn, described by Mr Ord, in his History of
Cleveland, as situated “UPON the sea and UNDER a mountain,” and certainly a
more isolated, strange, and desolate looking place to build on cannot be
conceived; yet, strange to say, Old Saltburn, in former days, was a thriving
fishing and smuggling place. At that time it exported
and imported merchandise of all kinds. It then contained two public houses, and
many a gin shop where a glass of real unadulterated Geneva could be had for a
penny. Here a large and profitable contraband trade was carried on, the
principal articles smuggled being Hollands gin, rum, brandy, silks, tea,
tobacco &c, and most of the business in this line was carried on between
sun set and day break, during which time many a cart
load of smuggled goods got clear off and was soon “over the hills and far
away”. Every man in the place then had a private vault, where his smuggled
goods were stowed away, and there was not then throughout Christendom a
happier, a braver, and a merrier set of fellows than the fishermen and lawless
smugglers of Old Saltburn.
King Saltburn
Old King
Saltburn, dear old Saltburn;
When a boy I
remember his glee.
When high in
the valley he stood –
What a jolly
fine fellow was he!
Now his head
has become quite hoary,
And bis face
is more placid you see,
Rise up,
then, and thin of the past.
What a jolly
old fellow was he!
In his first born son he is honoured,
No doubt a
great prince he will be,
If he walks
in the steps of his sire.
He’ll be
jolly and merry as he!
The oldest Saltburnian living,
Could never
have dreamt it could be,
That such a
great prince could be born
To a jolly
good fellow as he!
Old
King Saltburn, dear old Saltburn!
How long in the valley is he,
Could he tell us his merry exploits
What a jolly good fellow he’d be!
Farewell
then, old Saltburn, dear Saltburn,
When a boy I
remember thy glee –
Now welcome,
thrice welcome, thy son,
What a
promising fellow is he!
Some
years ago
Old Saltburn imported lime, lime stones, and coal, and also exported oak
timber, prop wood, corf
rods,
alum and corn. It had a coal yard and lime kilns, and there was a large alum
house near Cat Neb. My
grandfather,
who was a Kiltonian, employed many men at this alum
house, and many a merry tale I have heard him tell of smugglers and their
daring adventures and hair breadth escapes. The lime kilns and coal yard were
kept by old Mr William Cooper, whose sloop, “The Two Brothers”, was continually
employed in the coasting trade. Behind the alum house, Thomas Hutchinson, Esq., late of Brotton House, made an easy carriage road
from Saltburn to that place, which road will always be a lasting monument to
his memory.
“If we should to the Scottish coast
hie
We’ll make Captain Ogleby,
the king’s cutter, fly”
The government, however, being
determined to put a stop to this nefarious traffic, a party of coast guards,
with their cullasses, swords, spy glasses, and dark
lanterns, were sent to the Blue House, at Old Saltburn. This came like a
thunderbolt upon the astonished Saltburnians. They
made, however, two more efforts to continue the trade – one proved successful,
the other not.
The last lugger but one bound to
Saltburn was chased by the King’s cutter, and running aground at Marske, she
was taken by the coast guard, and all the crew were made prisoners, and put
into the lock up. While the coast guard were busy enjoying their prize, all the
prisoners escaped except one, who was found in Hazlegrip,
and whom the King’s officers sadly cut up. Lord Dundas, of Marske Hall,
threatened to bring them to justice if the man died.
The last luggar
that appeared on the coast was successful in delivering her cargo. Two of the
crew, fierce lion-looking fellows, landed, and they succeeded in capturing two
of the coast guard, whom they marched to the other wide of Cat Neb, where they
stood guard over them till the vessel got delivered. While these jolly
smugglers had the two men in custody, they sent to the lugger for a keg of real
Geneva, and at the point of the sword they compelled the poor fellows to drink
of that which was not the King’s portion. After releasing their prisoners, and
then telling them to go home, the smugglers returned to their vessel, setting
sail, they left the beach with light hearts and a fair breeze.
Since the merry days alluded to the
glory of Old Saltburn has departed – its smuggling days have passed away – its
gin vaults have disappeared – and the gay roysterers
who were wont to make Cat Neb and the adjacent rocks resound with laughter, now
rest in peace beneath the green hillocks in the retired grave
yards of Brotton and Skelton.
A Reminiscence
Not long
since, one bright summer morn
Near the vale of my birth did I roam,
And I
thought of the long life I’d spent,
And I sighed
that I ever eft home.
On the steep
rock of Huntcliff I stood,
Wash’d below by the ocean’s white foam,
And a voice
seemed to whisper to me
O why did
you ever leave home?
Near yonder
sweet vale I once lived,
Lived happy
beneath my old dome,
What changes
since then have I met –
O why did I
ever leave home?
The friends
of my youth are all gone,
No more in
these valleys to roam;
In the grave yard of Brotton they rest –
Oh why did I ever leave home?
Lay me there
by those I once loved,
When Death to
my old frame shall come
And my
spirit seraphic shall mount
To its last
and best happy home.
Of
late years many buildings of Old Saltburn have fallen beneath the ruthless hand
of Time, and all that remain now are two or three humble looking cottages, with
a respectable inn, possessing good accommodation, the fair hostess being a
grand daughter of the well known and worthy huntsman, Mr John Andrews, sen.,, one of the most ardent admirers of
the sports of the field in that fox hunting locality. In old Mrs Johnson’s days
this inn was noted for furnishing visitors with what were termed “fat rascals”
and tea, a delicious kind of cake stuffed with currants, and which the present
obliging hostess, Mrs Temple, who is an adept ion the culinary art, can make so as to satisfy the most fastidious palate.
But
let us return to New Saltburn. I remember some years ago being at Edinbro’ when our beloved Queen first visited
that city. Being an early riser, her Majesty was on her way to that place soon
in the morning, and the provost and other civic authorities having laid so long
had scarcely time to meet and present her with the keys of the city, a ceremony
usually observed on such occasions. I still have a vivid remembrance of the
festive rejoicings that took place at “Auld Reekie”, on the
occasion of her Majesty honouring it with a visit. While there Her
Majesty took up her abode at Holyrood Palace. It was her practice every morning
during her stay to take a private walk in the suburbs. One morning she met an
old Scotch woman advancing towards the Palace to offer poultry and eggs for
sale, which she carried in a basket. Her Majesty stopped her, and, ascertaining
the price of the articles, she bought the whole, to the great astonishment of
the old dame, asking herm, at the same time,. If she
ever tried to ell her produce at the Palace. The old woman replied in the
affirmative, and added, “And unco weel
they knaw how to mak a gude bargain! Bless ye, a puir body like me may well try t’
get bluid fra a post as try t’ get muckle from them.”
Her Majesty smiling then slipped a sovereign into her hand, when the old dame
exclaimed, “Aw canna brake this in twa, as I hae na got either sixpence or bawbee!” “Never mind,” said her
Majesty, “keep the whole”. The old woman glad to meet with so generous a
customer, then warmly thanked the Queen, and inquired where she was to take the
articles. “Take them to the Palace,” was the answer, “and say her Majesty has
bought them.” On amazement, and lifting her hands she exclaimed, “Bless me,
bless me, wha wad a’ thought it, and are ye MISSIS
Albert?”
Now, when a poor old Scotch woman could
thus accident tally meet our gracious Sovereign and be honoured with her
approving smile, who knows but in a short time the Prince of Wales, or even the
Queen herself, may be induced to pay Saltburn by the Sea a visit, and the
magnificent Hotel may become the temporary abode of royalty?
In addition to
the beautiful walks in the immediate vicinity of New Saltburn, the adjacent
country for miles round presents the most delightful rambles and drives for the
visitor, where the roads are good, with no turnpike gates, and through a
district which abounds with romantic scenery, villages, and hamlets, all
possessing a distinctive an interesting character. The most suitable parts of
the district for rambles, for rides, and for drives, are as follows
:-
A List of
Twelve Rambles
Rambles from
Saltburn and District
First Ramble
ON FOOT – From
New to Old Saltburn, ¼ mile – thence to Huntcliff, 1
¼ mile – to Brotton, 1 mile – to Kilton Castle, ½ mile – thence to Skelton, 3 ½
miles – through the Zetland Wood to Saltburn by the Sea, 2 miles, Total – 9 1.2
miles.
The above forms
a charming ramble, for most of the way a delightful view of both ocean and the
country, particularly on the craggy summit of Huntcliff,
which here extends about a mile and rises perpendicular 600 or 800 feet above
the level of the sea. In the distance rises Danby Hill, 966 feet, and the far famed Roseberry Topping, 1022 feet above the level of
the sea. From these hills may be seen, by the aid of a spy glass, on a clear
day, Shields, Tynemouth, Cumberland, Westmoreland, and the Cheviot Hills, a distance of eighty miles. The Cleveland Hills in general are richly stored with ironstone, freestone, whinstone,
limestone, alum strata, marbled jet, and amongst these have been picked many
beautiful specimens of agate, jasper, jasper agate, mocha, chalcedony, carmelian, onyx and flint variegated like Egyptian agates.
Few parts of
the globe can vie with this and the adjoining districts of Cleveland in respect
to the number, the variety, and the beauty of the fossils. Most of the hills
teem with the remains of animals and vegetables belonging to a former world.
They occur in almost every stratum – the aluminious schistus abounds with petrifactions, particular bones, and
testaceous substances. The fossil bones are chiefly those of large fishes and
amphibious animals, some belonging to quadrupeds of large size, of the crocodile
or alligator tribe, and others displaying fragments of bones belonging to an
animal much larger than a horse.
Brotton in this
ramble is a retired village, with a very neat church, pleasantly situated, from
the church yard of which there is a lovely prospect of the vale of Guisbro’ and the fine bay of Skinningrove.
There is a
valuable communion service in silver and gold in this church, presented by one
of the Tulleys, and two or three fine marble tablets
decorate the walls. Tindale, the sexton here, an obliging person, is ever ready
to show any visitor the interior.
Kilton
is a small village, but the vale in which it stands abounds with woodland
scenery. At a short distance stands the remains of the old castle of Kilton,
which once belonged to the Thwings,
where centuries ago there were no doubt great doings; but time here has wrought
vast changes, and the history of this once important stronghold is now nearly
buried in oblivion.
From the ruins of the castle there is a
fine view of the vast forest in which it stands, with the river crawling
through blocks of huge stones till it reaches the sea at Skinningrove. Here I
remember planting, fifty years ago, the first trees near the old castle walls,
and they are now as lofty as their sires two hundred years old. Here as I stand
how reflection crowds my mind. There is no corner of this wood unknown to me. I
have traversed it a thousand times when a boy. I have captured in it the owl, the
crow, the cushat, the hawk, the cuckoo, and every other forest bird, and also the squirrel, the weasel, the foumart, the badger,
the snake and the fox. How often I have heard the retreat of the huntsman’s
horn, like Joab at the death of Absolom, and how exulted when three cheers
proclaimed the death of poor Reynard. I remember once the fox hard run by the
Cleveland and Roxby hounds, and he took refuge between the old castle walls and
the ivy creeping between. Here he kept safe till the hounds came up, when he
boldly bounced in the very face of his enemies, and
was soon overcome. Mr J Codling, of Roxby, caught him yet alive, and brushed
him in the presence of Consett Dryden Esq., myself and a few others, and we made the wood resound with
three cheers.
Here in the spring
time when Nature is bursting into new life and beauty, and every hill is
carpeted with wild flowers, when the feathered choir sing in joyful and
delightful concert, and the busy bee with its drony
tone passes and repasses, how sweety it is to stand and admire the skill and
muse the praise of Him who brought them into being.
Kilton Woods
Here blooming flowers, with fragrant
lips,
Sweet pleasure gives to me,
While happy birds with gladsome voice
Now flirt from tree to tree.
The river as it onward flows
Its pleasant winding way,
Sings with smiles of calm content
Its message day by day.
On mountain high and valley low
The voice of God I hear,
And by the sea, the rippling sea,
I ever feel him near.
I gaze upon the silent night
And in the heavens above,
And in golden letters, clear and bright,
The stars sing
God is love.
The cuckoo with her well known voice,
Sings ever as she flies,
And joyful tidings brings
to all,
She never tells us lies.
She sucks the eggs of other birds,
Which makes her voice more clear;
And when she sings, gay spring is come
And summer’s drawing near.
Petrifying springs, depositing carbonate
of lime, abound in this locality. Amongst the most remarkable may be noticed a
spring in Kilton Wood, a little to the south of the castle, and a remarkable
sulphurous spring, which issues from the aluminous schistus
on the banks of the beck near Kilton Mill. One gallon of water of this spring
was found to be seventy two garins
heavier than a gallon of distilled water. In the immediate vicinity of Kilton
Castle there is also another petrifying spring, depositing carbonate of lime.
Skelton, a
considerable village, is included in this ramble, and it is well worthy of a
visit, as it has been the birthplace of a long list of illustrious warriors,
princes, kings and queens, and consequently it is connected
with associations of the most interesting character. It once was a
market town, its markets being held on Sundays. Like
the vale of Kilton, the country here abounds with woodland scenery,
particularly towards the north, where the umbrageous woods, the property of the
Earl of Zetland and JT Wharton Esq., ascend to a
great height on either side of Skelton Beck, which flows through them to New
Saltburn, where it enters the ocean.
Skelton Castle,
with its highly cultivated pleasure grounds, and the picturesque sheet of water
half encircling it, stands on a gentle slope, about a quarter of a mile from
the village, contiguous to the carriage road leading from that place to Marske.
On reaching Skelton Mill, at the bottom of the vale here, the rambler should
enter the Zetland Woods, through which he will find a pleasant pathway to the
grounds at Saltburn-by-the-Sea.
Soon after the
Norman Conquest the baronial castles and fortresses in this part of the country
were numerous, and the most important was the old castle of Skelton, built
about the year 1140, and of which there is not a single trace. Most of the
other castles in the district are now ruins, strongly showing the instability
of human handiwork. Amongst these Dany Castle still remains.
This ancient relic of the past once belonged to Lord John Latimer, whose wife,
Catharine Parr, resided here, and who was afterwards the last queen of that
monster in human shape, Henry the Eighth. To the antiquarian Cleveland must be
ever interesting, as almost every hill and valet in its displays the marks of
warlike exploits in a barbarous age. Traces of burial grounds, pits, moats,
encampments, forts, and military roads abound through the length and breadth of
the extensive district ranging from Skelton to Whitby.
Second
Ramble
ON FOOT – From
New Saltburn along by the Sands to Marske, passing the marine residence of
Joseph Pearse, Esq., 2 miles – thence to Upleatham Hall,
2 miles – thence to the Mins, 1 mile – return by Hob Hill to New Saltburn by
the Sea, 2 ½ miles. Total 7 ½ miles.
Marske in this
ramble is a beautiful improving village of one street, containing some shops
and many respectable looking houses. In consequence of the iron mines in the
adjacent hills, its population has lately much increased. The wages spent by
the miners who reside at this place, amount to a good round sum weekly. The
church, which was built in 1821, stands a little distance from the village, and
its fine lofty spire is a conspicuous mark for seamen. Here rest the mortal
remains of the father and other relations of the immortal Captain Cook. A
Mechanics Institute has for some years been successfully carried on here in the
school room, where there is a good library connected with it. The foundation
stone for a handsome new building for this Institute was lately laid by A
Pease, Esq. There is likewise a Cottage Hospital at
this place, which is certainly worthy of inspection. A writer, speaking of this
hospital, says – “This is truly a novelty in agricultural districts, if not in
others; and for unassuming perfection, will exceed the visits expectation
greatly. I had previously seen metropolitan and other institutions of the kind,
but for the appearance of home, and perfect adaptation to its requirements,
give me Marske Cottage Hospital, with its tidy accomplished nurse. A four
roomed cottage, well aired, well ventilated, and scrupulously clean – almost to
a fault – has been appropriated to the benevolent purpose of receiving the
injured miners belonging to the Upleatham mines. Upon entering the first apartment,
I found a remarkably cheerful and airy room, with two beds, bath &c. One of
the beds contained a poor man, whose leg had been amputated a few days before.
Nothing was left to be desired. His happy, placid countenance testified that he
was “doing well”, and his admission that he had “fallen into good hands” bore
ample evidence of his confidence in the surgeon. The nurse kindly afforded me
an opportunity of seeing the whole arrangements. In an adjoining room, on the
ground floor, were two other beds – happily occupied, and upstairs the nurse’s
private apartment. Here, in addition to every consideration to her comfort, I
found a complete set of surgical instruments – amputation and others – of the most costly description. Upon inquiry, my surprise was equal
to my previous pleasure, to find that for the origin and entire support of this
very benevolent institution, the working men of the Upleatham mines are
indebted to Messrs. Pearse, the lessees. “Honour to whom honour id due”, and in
justice it ought to be accorded here, for the care experience in behalf of their workmen appears the more praiseworthy,
when placed in juxta-position with that of other proprietors within “hearing of
Bow bells.”
Upleatham
“Sloped with
graceful ease
Hanging
enraptured o’er the winding Tees,”
Is also a
pretty picturesque village, surrounded by magnificent sylvan scenery, that
cannot be surpassed for beauty. On the north side of the declivity of the range
of hills on which the village stands, are the spacious iron mines belonging to
Joseph Pearse, Esq., and which are now in full
operation, employing a large number of hands. The
mines are particularly worthy of inspection of the visitor. Upleatham Hall, the
seat of the Earl of Zetland, stands south west of the
village, and is a modern structure, commanding a beautiful prospect, and from
the rising grounds there is a fine view of Skelton Castle.
Third Ramble
ON FOOT – From
New to Old Saltburn, ¼ mile, thence to Trout Hall. 2 ½ miles – to Airy Hill, by
Skelton Green, 1 mile – return by Skelton and Bell’s Hall, at Marske Mill, to
the pleasure grounds, 2 ½ miles. Total 7 ½ miles.
In this ramble
are fine views of Brotton Hall, Trout Hall, Airy Hill, Skelton Castle,
Upleatham, Guisbro’ Abbey, Kirkleatham, Redcar,
Hartlepool, Freebro’ Hill, Roseberry Topping, Huntcliff, Roecliff, Lofthouse,
Easington, Stangho, Liverton, and Moorsholm; also the Chevoit and other hills,
from Huntcliff.
Fourth
Ramble
ON FOOT – From
New to Old Saltburn, ½ mile – thence to Huntcliff
Foot, 1 ile – Skinningrove, by Cattersty
Creek, 1 ½ mile – Allum Works, 1 mile – return by Skinngrove,
1 mile – Brotton, 1 mile – Saltburn by the Sea, 2 ¼ miles. Total 8 ¼ miles.
You
should not forget those rocks on which iron stone was shipped to Middlesbro’
prior to the Eston mines. Here also abound many kinds of marine animals, and sea-weed, under which breed
vast millions of shell-fish, and, as you walk along, you destroy many thousands
crackling under foot; there are frequently seen numerous seals or sea-calves
basking in the sun.
Among
ponderous blocks of freestone falling from the cliff, fearful to behold, (when
a ship founders here in high water, there is no way to escape) there are many
fine specimens of stone you may find, until you arrive at Cattersty Creek, once famous
for the delivery of Geneva ships – numbers have delivered their cargoes here.
The last I remember was when Tom Wesbter, of Brotton,
fell down dead while carrying a tub of Geneva up this
creek.
Next is Skinningrove, second to none for
the contraband trade, and here, Paul Jones, the pirate, threatened to land, and
the tale is of the seaman caught, confined, but made his escape to sea. This
tale is still extant. Forget not the Alum House, return by the cliff, the
beacon, by Huntcliff, safe home, and this ramble for
varied interest can scarcely be excelled. Total 6 miles.
Fifth Ramble
ON FOOT –
Through the Pleasure Grounds to Skelton Mill, 2 miles – Upleatham, 1 mile –
Mines, ½ mile – return by Brawshawe or Hobhill, 1 ½ miles, to Satlburn
by the Sea. Total 5 miles.
In this
delightful ramble, you enter the Company’s Pleasure Grounds, furnished with
booths, grottos, walks, shrubs,. Flowers, and
evergreens, exquisitely arranged, in that most retired and pleasant Eden. It
was here, in the time of the French War, when Napoleon the First wished to land
his legions on our shores, a regiment of soldiers were encamped, called the
white-coated regiment, (Abraham Wood, one of these soldiers, in after years
became my drill sergeant). It was well for us we had a Nelson, a Wellington,
and other heroes; but ow in this place no one dares make you afraid.
All hail! ye
blessed friends of peace,
Peace to us
has been restored
See the
fruits of peace abounding
For ever be
the Prince of peace ador’d.
You proceed
through Lord Zetland’s wood, and gaze on huge oaks,
towering high for centuries, up as far as Skelton Mill, and on your route you hear the sweet feathered songster on each side of
the rivulet, which goes meandering down to the ocean at Saltburn by the Sea;
also that sweet fragrance of forest life to delight your pathway. As you rise
the Upleatham height, and gaze on that expansive view of sea and land,
underneath are hundreds of miners, raising the rich ore of iron-stone,
the property of the Earl of Zetland, and now in the hands of Joseph Pearse, Esq., of Marske Hall. Here you have a view of sea and land,
hil and dale, so great and extensive as to be second
to none.
Upleatham is
thus notice by Dr Granville, in his northern tour :-
“I was now in the vicinity of Redcar, which enjoys a local reputation as a sea
bathing place, for its singularly beautiful sands; thither I proceed, calling
in my way at Upleatham, the seat of the Earl of Zetland, whom, to my regret, I
found absent on the Continent. Tranquil retreat, sheltered on the east by vast
plantations, and placed in one of these lovely dales which the swell and lesser
hills of the Cleveland range form; in the neighbourhood of Roseberry Topping,
that lofty peak, sacred to minstrelsy and witchery, recalls to
mind the days of its chivalrous and successive lords, the valiant Earl
of Northumberland, Robert de Bruce, and Lord Falconby.
M Ord tells us, ‘here the lamented Duke of Sussex was a frequent guest of the
noble proprietor, and expressed in the warmest terms his admiration of its
beauty and retirement.’ ” Then we have Marske and
Marske Hall, south east of Redcar. Dr Granville
remarks of this building – “This ancient and insulated hall, which, from its
external appearance, bespeaks the time of Charles I, and which has often
resounded with the noble name of Dundas, stands near. A short way south of
Redcar, to which a drive on sands as smooth as velvet, yet so firm that neither
man nor horse leave their impression on them as they tread the sand.” Again, we
have in this neighbourhood the village of Skelton, with its pricely
castle. Mr Ord writes of it in these words – “This small, obscure, and
insignificant village will for ever stand renowned, not only in the history of
Cleveland, but in that of the empire of the world, as the birthplace of a lofty
and illustrious line of nobles, and the ancient cradle and nursery of warriors,
princes and kings. From this little nook in Cleveland sprang mighty monarchs,
queens, high chancellors, archbishops, earls, ambassadors, and knights, and
above all, one brilliant and immortal name, Robert De Bruce, the great Scottish
patriot, who, when liberty lay vanquished and protrate
in the dust, and the genius of national freedom had fled shivering from her
native hills, bravely stood forth his latest and noblest champion, and in
defence of England’s proudest chivalry, achieved for Scotland a glorious
independence and for himself an imperishable fame.! Total 5 miles.
Sixth Ramble
DRIVE – To
Marske, 2 miles – Kirkleatham, 3 miles, Wilton Castle, 1 mile – Eston, 2 miles
– Ormsby, 2 miles – Guisbro’, 6 miles – Skelton, 4
miles – Saltburn by the Sea, 2 miles. Total, 28 miles.
In this drive
by Marske, Kirkleatham Hall, Tom Brown’s tree, gracing the entrance to the
hospital, his father planted the day Tom was born. The following is a short
account of his daring heroism :- Tom entered in the
dragoon service. His fame, though dead, yet speaketh.
It was at the battle of Dettingen, fought February 16, 1743, when he had two
horses killed under him, and lost two fingers off his left hand, and when he
saw their standard taken, he galloped into the midst of the enemy, shot the
soldier, seized the standard, and, thrusting it between his thigh and the
saddle, he gallantly fought his way back, eighty yards, through hostile ranks,
and, though covered in wounds, bore his prize in triumph to his comrades, who
greeted him with three cheers. In this valliant
exploit our hero received eight wounds in his face, head, and neck, three balls
went through his hat, two lodged in his back, which never could be extracted.
The fame of Tom Brown spread through the kingdom. He received a pension of £30
per annum for life, and retired, lived and died at Yarm.
One of the most
enchanting places in this vicinity is Wilton Castle, the seat of Sir JH
Lowther, near Kirkleatham; the Mausoleum, the Hospital, and Hall present objects
so various and beautiful as to satisfy the most craving lover of the romantic
and picturesque. The annexed lines from a poem attributed to Sir JH Lowther,
Bart., convey to the reader some idea of this charming locality.
“Here Wilton
stands, - the subject of my lay,
In woods
embosomed shines her fair domain,
Where calm
content, and peaceful pleasure reign,
Where chasten’d art, and lavish nature vie
With blended
chars to fascinate the eye;
And sloping
meads a constant verdure wear;
The rushing
torrent rolls its rapid floods,
Descends the
rocks, and issues thro’ the woods.
While
rippling streamlets lend their aid
To the deep
murmurs of the swift cascade;
No sound
disturbs, nor forms, nor footsteps there,
Save the coy
stock-dove, and the rustling hare.
Should fancy
lead where ample scenes abound,
Ascend the
steep and view the country round;
From Eston’s
heights your wand’ring eye survey
Durham’s
bold cliffs, and Seaham’s rocky bay;
Striking in
view stands Hartlepool’s firm tower,
Whose
massive pier defies proud Neptune’s power,
While
stately vessels thread the winding Tees.
Fraught with
the treasures of the Baltic seas.”
Since the above
was written, oh what bustle there is here! Eston Nab riddled through, thousands
of busy miners at work where twenty years ago all was still as death.
And now you
have a view from Redcar to Stockton with their teeming thousands, blazing
furnaces, rolling mills and forges, and in the place where a solitary farm once
stood, stands Middlebro’, with its 20,000
inhabitants, overlooking other laces of renown; Dryden Hall, Jackson’s and Sir
William Pennyman’s Hall, at Ormesby; you go round Eston Ridge, pass Barnaby
Moor, Roseberry, and the other hills of iron ore, by Guisbro’
and Tockets. You have in another ride particulars
given. Upleatham, Skelton Castle, through Skelton, pass the new hall of the
Bell Brothers, quietly down to Saltburn by the Sea. This drive will be a total
of 23 miles.
Seventh
Ramble
DRIVE – To
Brotton, 2 ½ miles – Lofthouse, 2 miles – Easington, 1 mile – Boulby Alum
Works, 1 ½ mile – Staithes, 1 mile – Runswick Bay, 2 ½ miles – return by
Hinderwell, 1 ½ mile – Grinkle Park, to Scaling, 6
miles – by Freebro’ Hill, 3 ½ miles – Stagho, 3 ½ miles – Trout Hall, 1 mile – Saltburn by the
Sea, 2 ½ miles. Total 28 ¼ miles.
On leaving
Saltburn, go by Brotton, Lofthouse, Eaisngton,
Staithes, Runswick Bay, and return by Roxby and Scaling Moor. As you rise
Brotton Ridge, on looking back on the new town and Skelton Vale to Guisbro’ Abbey, is a fine landscape view. Next is
Skinningrove Bay, an ocean view. On the right is the woodland views of Lady
Down, the Earl of Zetland, and JT Wharton, Esq. Up
and above Kilton Old Castle, and in full view is Lofthouse, the seat of Sir
Robert Dundas, and Boulby Alum Works, on Roecliff. We
have spoken of a fine young colt that went over Huntcliff’s
awful height, and was killed; and recently one of the
railway navvies also, and died; but strange to say, from off Roecliff a man and his barrow went over, and was not
killed. Some time after a boy and his barrow went off this awful precipice, and
he is now captain of a ship sailing rom Middlesbro’.
Their preservation was said to be owing to the strong gale of wind then
blowing, together with their smock frocks. Here you are in the immediate
vicinity of Staithes fishery, and Runswick Bay. The most remarkable event in
the history of Kettleness is that, about 170 years
ago, the whole village, except one house, sunk down during the night; that
night there was a wake for the dead – the alarm was given, and I am happy to
say no lives were lost. Again, in 1832, another slip took place, that buried
the Alum House. Kettleness stands a monument rescued
from annihilation, and is also as worthy a call as
Staithes. Further on is Mulgrave princely castle and Alum Works. Beyond is the
old and new towns of Whitby, and the abbey of Lady Hilda, a pious nun, who was
much respected. Two of the noted Cholmley family, John and Ralph, fought at
Floden Field; Sir Hugh at Guisbro’.
Whitby
Harbour is a safe refuge, when once past the old wooden bridge. Let old Neptune
rise and foam, and run mountains high, all are safe within her walls and
bulwarks. Next is the
Mulgrave princely castle, Sandsend and Alum Works. The Mulgrave family have
ever stood in high renown with royalty as privy councillors, chancellors and
ambassadors. The late Marquis of Normanby has just gone to his grave, at an
advanced age. His son, Lord Mulgrave, succeeds to his titles. Here we notice
other stars of great magnitude – Captain Cook, of Marton, left Staithes for
Whitby, and entered upon his seafaring career, and became the great navigator
and discover of nations, who laid down charts and maps for use of futurity, was
on his third voyage around the worlds when his life became prey to the savage
cannibals who, only a few days before, worshiped him as a god. Next is Roxby,
said to be the road to no place. Here are found resolute, robust, heroic men
for the sports of the field and foxhounds, called the Roxby pack, second to
none, afterwards amalgamated with the Cleveland hounds. Even here rose a star
of the first magnitude, the great Dr Newton, the divine. Cook traversed the
seas the world round and round, Newton the three kingdoms through and through:
ye, he travelled more than any man ever did in the ministry. As divine, his
praises are in all the churches; through Christendom, ye, throughout the world;
he was sent as representative and ambassador to the American church – preached
to 20,000 or 30,000 people at once, and, before the great Congress, returned
with the eulogies, thanks, and praises of that great people. As a divine, in
preaching, in advocating the heathen mission on the platform, none ever did him
excel. Millions have travelled far to see and hear him. J. Vaughan, Esq., was heard to say that it was worth travelling fifty
miles to hear his trumpet voice giving out the hymn –
“Before
Jehovah’s awful throne
Ye nations
bow with sacred joy.”
In this highland
drive you rise to Brotton, here you have the vales of Brotton, Kelton,
Lofthouse, Easington, Boulby Alum Works, Staithes Fishery, Runswick Bay,
Sandsend, Mulgrave Castle, Whitby Abbey, Lady Hilda. Sir Hugh Cholmley, the
great commander, defended these parts, fought at Guisbro’,
(particulars in another ride) Roger and John fought at Flodden Field. Roxby, by
Grinkle Park, a commanding view by Scalingdem and Freebro’, here you
see hill and dale, moor and field land like patchwork, it was behnd this hill that tearful tragedy was committed named
elsewhere. Moorholm and Stagho;
here your eye views the vales on the rising Stangho
height, Skelton by Trout Hall, to Saltburn by the Sea. Total, 28 ½ miles.
Eighth
Ramble
DRIVE – To
Skelton, 2 ¼ miles – Guisbro’, 4 miles – Newton, 3
miles – Ayton, 2 miles – Ormesby , 1 ¼ mile – Wilton,
by Eston, 4 miles – Kirkleatham, 1 mile – Coatham and Redcar, 2 miles – Redcar
Sands, by Marske, 5 ½ miles. Total to Saltburn, 33 miles.
In this drive
from Saltburn to Skelton you have a good view of the new town – the pleasure
grounds are described in a former ramble. You have to
pass the new hall of John Bell, Esq., Skelton,
Upleatham, Guisbro’, Newton bold, Roseberry, and the
lofty hills above Ayton. Here we notice the heroism of
Captain Horny, almost without a parallel. He was the master of a merchant ship,
named the Isabella, of Sunderland; when a French privateer attacked him, eight
times his number, both in men and guns, decide 300 small arms. The Frenchman,
in abusive language, commanded him to strike his colours, calling out in a
menacing tone, “You English dogs, strike.” Hornby challenged him to come on board, and strike his colours if he dared. The
Frenchman then threw in twenty men, who began to hack and hew into his close
quarters, Hornby then dispatched a blunderbuss, which made the invaders
retreat. The privateer tacked about, and made another
attempt on the starboard side. Captain Hornby and his valiant mate each shot
his man, and the Frenchman once more commanded him to strike. The brave Britain
returned another refusal. Twenty fresh men entered, and made an attack at close
quarters, when Captain H. and his brave crew obliged them again to retreat, the
two vessels being at that time lashed together, the enemy with small arms
pouring vollies in close quarters. At length Captain
H., seeing them giving way, fired a double loaded blunderbuss, when it burst and Captain H. fell as dead – it made terrible havoc
with the enemy. The gallant Hornby then fired his two starboard guns into the
enemy’s stern, and the indignant Frenchman soon returned the compliment, the
conflict was renewed, and after seven hours of hard fighting, the enemy again
summoned Hornby, with dreadful menaces, to strike his colours, which animated
his gallant crew to resistance, and the enemy’s crew refused to renew the
dangerous task to board. Captain H. resolved to salute the Frenchman with one
parting gun, which entered the magazine, and the ship blew up instantaneously; thirty five were killed and wounded, thirty five drowned,
and three saved. The engagement lasted seven hours. Captain Hornby received
from the King a large gold medal commemorating his heroism.
Stokesley Manor
House, Colonel Hildyard, Nunthorpe, and Marton, Captain Cook’s birthplace, and
on Easby Moor his monument , by R Campion, Esq., ask –
“Shall then no
monumental stone be raised
To him whom
sagas mourn’d, and kings rever’d,
Cook wants no borrow’d glory from our hand,
His fame,
immortal shines in every land.”
Here your eye
gazes on the vale of Cleveland, Stockton, and Middlesbro’, with their teeming
populations and blazing furnaces; Ormeseby by Eston,
Wilton, Coatham, Redcar, Marsk, to Saltburn by the Sea. Total, 33 miles.
Ninth Ramble
RIDE – By
Bradshaw House to Marske, 2 miles – Kirkleatham, 3 miles – Yearby to Guisbro’, 4 ½ miles – Spaw by Longhulls
Hall, 1 mile; Videx to Airyhill, 1 ½ mile – by
Skelton Ellers, to Upleatham Hall, 1 ½ mile – by Hib Hill, 2 ½ miles, to
Saltburn by the Sea. Total, 17 miles.
By Bradshaw
House you have on your left Upleatham mines, on your right Marsk, Redcar, and
the sea in full view; at Yearby you proceed on to Guisbro’,
by Tockets Hall, General Hale’s, allied to the
Dundas’s family, whose wife bore him twenty two
children; this hall is razed to the ground, and the noble Hales gone to their
resting place. Here is Guisbro’ and its Abbey, and Longhulls Hall, the seat of Captain Chaloner, Sir Thomas,
and a long list of that honourable family; their high standing in successive
reigns with royalty, and allied to the ancient Princes of Wales, as ambassador;
was highly received by Charles the Fifth for his bravery as a soldier; once
when shipwrecked in the dark night, he caught a cable with his teeth, and was
thus saved. Sir Thomas the second, as honourable as his father, established the
Alum Works at Guisbro’. Robert Chaloner was married
into the Dundas family. Emmey Chaloner had fifteen children. Sir Hugh Cholmley
was born at Roxby, in the year 1600, fought at a battle at Guisbro’,
January 16, 1643, defeated six hundred of the King’s troops, and took Colonel
Slingsby, their commander, a prisoner, with a great number of his men. He
bravely defended this district against the King’s forces. Next you have the
Spaw and Vidox, on to Airyhill,
a commanding view far and near Guisbro’, the Abbey
and the Moor on which the battle was fought. The vale of Skelton, Lofthouse, Freebro’, Redcar, Marsk, Saltburn by the Sea. Upleatham
Hall, Skelton Castle, the counties of Durham and Northumberland, and the
Yorkshire hills. You will descend by Fortypence Wood
and Skelton, Ellers, Upleatham, by Hobhill to
Saltburn by the Sea. Total, 17 miles.
Tenth Ramble
RIDE – From
Saltburn to Bradshaw House, 1 mile; by Marske Mines, 1 mile; Kirkleatham, 3
miles; Coatham and Redcar, 2 miles; to Saltburn by the Sea, by the Sands, 5/1/2
miles : Total 12 ½ miles.
In this ride,
as soon as you pass Bradshaw House below Hobhill; you
have the Iron Mines on your left, Marske and Marske Hall on your right; you now
enter Kirkleatham, and must call to see the famous hospital, the museum and Tom
Brown’s tree; Sir Charles Hall called it a paradise of beauty, fifty years ago.
There stood naked figures in marble on every side,
also cannons fixed pointing in every lane. (I have in my possession two balls
which belonged to Sir Charles.) After Sir Charles’s death, Lady Turner wisely
had them removed. Sir Charles won and lost much at horse racing; once, I
believe at Dncaster, he won £20,000, and the same
night lost it nearly all amongst sharpers. I have heard it said, at one time he
staked Kirkleatham estate, and lost again, and when the successful winner
claimed his prize, Sir Charles thought he had done badly and regretted much to
part with this beautiful estate, and kept his hold, the bootless winner told
Sir Charles that it was not honourable; d----- the honour, said Sir Charles,
give me Kirkleatham; and it now is in the hands of the rightful owner, Lady
Turner, Vansit-tart’s daughter, Mrs Newcombe’s happy
home. You next call at Coatham, and the far-famed Redcar, and by the sands to
Saltburn by the Sea. Total, 12 ½ miles.
Eleventh
Ramble
RIDE – Old
Saltburn to Huntcliff, 1 ½ mile, or Brotton, 2 miles
– Skinnngrove by Cattersby
Creek, 1 ½ mile – Alum House, 1 mile – Lofthouse, 1 mile – Liverton, 2 miles –
Beck-meetings ford, 1 ½ miles – Kilton Castle. ½ mile, Brotton by Kilton, 1 ½
mile – or by Stangho, and Bousbeck
to Skelton Castle, 4 miles – then by Hobhill, 1 ½
mile – to Saltburn by the Sea. Total 17 ¾ miles.
In this
romantic ride, Huntcliffe or Brotton are most
enchanting, - both sea, land and woodland. As you rise Brotton height, you have
Brotton, Skelton, and Lofthouse in full view: Lofthouse with its holly hedges,
alum house, and alum making; Liverton and its wood, by Beckmeetngs-ford,
at times impassable by flood. Here Bob Dryden had sense enough not to ride, but
like a madman without sense rode the footbridge below in a flood safe. A little
below this bridge are the petrifying springs, call and see them, also another
in Great Scar Wood. You pass on to Litle Moorsholm. Here, sixty years agio,
through this ford, the packhorse brought corn to Saltburn granaries, through
Kilton and neighbourhood; next by Stangho Hall and Bousbeck Moor, and Skelton Mill to Marsk Mill, through the
pleasure ground to Saltburn by the Sea. This ride will be found a romantic and
interesting one. Total, 17 ¾ miles.
Twelfth
Ramble
Redcar Sands,
ride, drive, walk every day, stretching 7 miles. Total, 14 miles.
Copies of
Letters
Received from
Sir George Grey and Sir CB Phipps, acknowledging the receipt of the following verses:-
Whitehall, 21st
April, 1863
SIR, - I am
directed by Secretary Sir George Grey to acknowledge
the receipt of your letter of the 17th instant, and to inform you
that he has forwarded to Sir Charles Phipps the verses, &c., of Mr John Farndale,
which were sent by you for presentation to the Queen.
I have the
honour to be, Sir,
Your obedient
servant,
H WADDON, Jun.
Henry Pease, Esq., MP, &c., &c.
Windsor Castle,
April 22nd, 1863.
I have the
honour to be, Sir,
Your obedient
humble servant,
CB Phipps.
H Pease, Esq., MP
Verses
Written on the Marriage of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales,
March 10, 1863
And graciously
received by Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle.
Albert
Edward, Prince of Wales,
England’s
boast – a Nation’s pride,
Son of the
most beloved Prince,
Welcome to
England they bride.
Hail! –
blest Princess of
the Danes,-
All hail! –
Denmark’s sweetest rose;
Albert, -
Alexandria, - hail, -
In joy, and
peace t’ repose.
Blow ye
breezes, soft and fair,
Let old
Neptune sweetly smile,
Bring the
precious freight he bears
To Old
England’s happy Isle.
Long live
Queen Victoria,
Long, long
live the Royal Pair,
Long live
each, Prince and Princess.
In this, or other
lands to share.
The marriage of the Prince
of Wales, the eldest son of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, and Princess
Alexandra of Denmark, took place in St George's Chapel, Windsor. Thomas was
commissioned to paint the picture. The artist has recorded a later moment in
the ceremony. The bride and groom have turned at the altar and are about to
move in procession down the Chapel. Queen Victoria can be seen looking down on
the ceremony.
In
March 1864 Queen Victoria wrote that Thomas's picture 'is as good as poor Mr.
Frith's is bad'. In 1869 she acquired it from the estate of Day and Son.
Supplement
to the Cleveland District
First, this district,
“Cleveland”, is mostly of a strong clayey soil, but in some places a clayey
loam prevails, and in others a fine red sandy soil. This is generally called a
fertile and well cultivated vale, and more so of late years by the introduction
of modern machinery, artificial manures, and extensive drainage, and may now be
said to produce from sixty to a hundred fold of wheat,
beans, oats, clover, turnips, and potatoes, on loomy
soil when drained. Old sward in many places is good and rich feeding
pasture. Cleveland is said to produce
some of the finest and largest short horned cattle in England. The breed of
late years has been much improved. They are a handsome animal, distinctly
marked with red blotches on a white ground, or a beautiful roan; their backs
level, throats clean; necks fine, carcase full and round, quarters long, hips
and rumps even and wide, and light in their bone; they have a fine coat, thin
hides, and are sold at high prices for breeding. The Tees water breed of sheep,
the old stock. Have been greatly improved by a mixture of the Leicestershire
and Durham rams, and are sold at high prices. Pigs
also, both strong and smaller breed, for many years have been improved. Sir
Lawrence Dundas introduced into his district a fine small Chinese breed, and JH
Wharton, Esq. presented his tenants with one each. My father’s was
a fine boar pig. Cleveland is particularly distinguished for its breed of
horses. Their fame is deservedly spread, says one writer, not only in this
country, but also in France, Germany, Russia, and America. Dealers from the
counties are commissioned by emperors, kings, princes and others, to purchase
Cleveland hoses and mares for breeding. Cleveland bays, by the introduction of
the racing blood, are rendered more valuable for the saddle, and for the
carriage. Formerly Cleveland bays, for the plough sold at high prices.
Geology, says a
learned writer, may be defined to be the inquiry into the natural history of
the earth, extending through the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, and
comprising in its investigations all time past, present, and to come. The
science of geology is in perfect harmony with Divine Revelation – the Book of
God. To the student of nature in three grand departments – the mineral,
vegetable, and animal kingdoms, perhaps there is o
portion of Great Britain that furnishes equal scope for mineralogical pursuits,
and materials for research. Iron ore and aluminious schistus is the great staple of Cleveland. On iron rails we
travel into all corners of the kingdom; on iron ships into all the kingdoms of
the world; and iron wires we whisper into the ears of any kingdom any hour of
the day, and may be answered the same day. From this
district we could hoop the world round and round. The knowledge of art and
science, attained by precept, are the seven liberal arts – grammar, rhetoric,
logic, arithmetic, music, geometry, and astronomy. At our agricultural show,
August 1863, £50 was offered for the best essay on Cleveland farming. Why not
on art and science.
I have already
spoken most respectfully of our ancient nobility, most of whom I knew:
Marquises, earls, lords, baronets, nights, MPs, Esqrs,.
Ambassadors, commanders, captains, &c. Cleveland with her present nobility,
gentry, clergy, and mechanics, and merchants in alum strata and iron ore, visit
this district to see the numerous blast furnaces, rolling mills, forges, iron
ship building &c. One furnace can tap 1,000pigs of iron per day, 7,000 per
week, 28,000 per month, 364,000 per year – thirty furnaces in one year
30,920,000 pigs. Cleveland has becme a hive of
industry. There are now employed thousands of miners, moulders, puddlers, and labourers in the iron trade. Our merchants
are princes of fortune, “in a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose
hills though may’st dig brass.” The equipages of
those nobles are splendid, their carriage horses are the improved Cleveland
bays, which none can excel; their harness clad with gold, like the days of
Solomon – silver is thought nothing of. Long live our
Cleveland princes a blessing to the district, and of whom we are proud.
The antiquities
abound with old castles, halls, abbeys, nunneries, homes, hermitages, battle
fields, and military roads. Mulgrave Castle, Wilton castle and Skelton Castle
are all rebuilt, and are princely ornaments in the vale of Cleveland. Egton
Castle, Castleton Castle and Kildale Castle have been razed to the ground.
Danby Castle and Kilton Castle are yet in ruins, as also Guisbro’
Abbey and Whitby Abbey. The last hermitage belonging to Whitby is Saltburn, on
the banks of the Holbeck, not far from Saltburn by the Sea.
Amongst the
centenarians in this district may be noticed Henry Parr, died at York, aged 169
years; William Sedman, died at Whitby, aged 116 years; Ann, his wife, died at
Whitby, aged 111 years; Dolly Page, died at Kilton, aged 105 years, John Farndale,
died at Kilton aged 90 years; William Farndale,
died at Kilton, aged 86 years.
This
district once abounded with wild animals – the badger, the otter, the wolf, the
stag, and the wild boar, which are now extinct; but the fox, the hare, the
rabbit, the squirrel, the dormouse, rat, hedgehog, the martin, the foumet, and the snake all abound in this
district.
The feathered game tribe comprise the
pheasant, the partridge, the black grouse, the woodcock, and the snipe. The
songsters are the thrush, the blackbird, the jay, the lark, the linnet, the
bullfinch, the starling, the cuckoo, &c.
Rush Pool Hall,
the seat of John Bell Esq., is a most beautiful
gothic building, being built with blue ironstone, interwoven with light free
stone, and has a sea view, sheltered n all sides with delightful woodland, and
is situate north east by Andrew’s, west by JT
Wharton’s, north west by the Earl of Zetland’s, and
has a splendid view. The pleasure grounds are the most romantic,
and are far away from the noisy world – a chosen Eden, not a mile from
Saltburn by the Sea. Call and see.
As far as my
limits will allow I have now briefly noticed most of
the prominent objects connected with the most interesting part of Cleveland,
where formerly its vast forests were infested with troops of prowling wolves,
and where once the stately stag and the voracious wild boar abound, the hunting
of which was reserved by Henry I, as a royal prerogative. Since then what a change has taken place! Civilisation has
revolutionised the aspect of the country. Instead of immense forests abounding
with ravenous animals, we see smiling hills and vales crowded with verdure,
where amidst scattered villages, and hamlets, and farm steads, the cottager,
under the protection of our excellent laws, lives in security, and where the husbandsman from year to year reaps the produce of his
labour unmolested by the devastating ravages of hideous war.
It may truly be
said that nature has been exceedingly lavish in her gifts in this part of the
country, particularly at Saltburn by the Sea, destined o doubt, by the
extension of the Stockton and Darlington Railway to that place, to be the
nucleus of a happy and thriving community.
The extension
of this railway to a district little known, cannot but be attended with
beneficial results, as it not only opens a direct communication to a new sea
bathing place, where the visitor may enjoy pure air, splendid walks, and
beautiful scenery; but it also affords the means of conveying to us those
illimitable stored of iron ore so lately discovered on the adjacent hills, and
which discovery has led to the employment of thousands, and given additional
impulse to our trade and commerce, and thus our means of usefulness have been
enlarged, our social and domestic comforts augmented, and the general
prosperity of the district and the nation at large so extended as to increase
our wealth, and confer a lasting benefit on every section of a grateful and
industrious population.
Time was –
to all a precious boon;
Time is – is
passed away so soon;
Time no more
– is eternity;
Time was –
is – is no more to be.
Salltburn by the Sea
An
alphabetical record of the principal places and seat-houses of our ancient
nobility and gentry, with the churches and clergy in the locality of the New
Watering Place, Saltburn by the Sea, with their respective distances in miles.
Acklam Hall,
Thomas Hustler, Esq., JP: church incumbent, Rev J
Benson – 16 miles.
Ayton Halls, J
Richard, and – Graham, Esqrs.: church – All Sants, Rev W Deacon - 17 miles.
Arncliffe Hall,
the Missis Mauleverers: church - St Andrew’s, Rev J
Steele – 22 miles.
Busby Hall, Rev
G Marwood: church, Carlton, Rev Thomas Brown – 17 miles
Brotton, R
Jackson and R Stephenhouse, Esqrs.: chapel of ease,
Rev J Perrington – 2 miles.
Boulby Hall, WW
Jackson, and Baker, Esqrs. J Dods, alum maker – 6 miles
Cargo Fleet, P
Heseltine, Esq., merchant – 14 miles.
Carlton, JG
Marwood, Esq., JP – 17 miles.
Castleton
Castle and Danby Lodge – 10 miles.
Commondale, Dr
Loy – 10 miles.
Crathorn, Sir Wm Crathorn,
Bart; church, All Saints, Rev R Greensides – 23 miles.
Danby Lodge,
Catherine Parr and Viscount Downs; church, Rev D Duck; Danby Beacon, High Moor
– 11 miles.
Dromanby Hall, Miss Dobson, 20 miles.
Easby Hall,
Cook’s Monument, R Campbell Esq., chapel of Ease,
Stokesley – 14 miles.
Egglescliff, Aislakby’s,
Waldy’s Temples; church, St John the Baptist.
Easington, Grinkle Park – Middleton Esq. – 8
miles
Eston, Eston
Nab, Iron Mines – 8 miles. Wm Stapleton, Esq., chapel
of ease, Rev – Thompson, of ormseby – 8 miles.
Farndale Dale, Blaka
Ridge – 18 miles.
Feesby Lodge, J Leaf, Esq.
– 16 miles.
Friarage, Thos Maynell,
Esq., Yarm – 19 miles.
Green Howe
Hall, Sir W Fowles, Bart, JP – 16 miles.
Guisbro’ Abbey, Longhull
Hall, Sir Thos Chaloner. 6 miles. Church St Nicholas, Rev TP Williamson.
Grinkle Park, R Middleton, Esq.
– 7 miles.
Handle Abbey, J
Bell, Esq. – 6 miles.
Hunley Hall, R
Jackson, Esq., Captain Napper, R Stephenson, Esq – 2
miles.
Hutton Rudby, Scuttershelf, the seat of
Lady Amrest; church, All Saints, Rev – Greenwood – 20
miles.
Hinderwell,
Lady Hilda, a nun: church, St Hilda, Rev N Howlet – 10 miles.
Ingleby Manor,
Sir D Fowles, Bart – 16 miles.
Ingleby Arncliff, Missis Mauleverers;
church, St Andrew, Rev J Dixon – 22 miles.
Kildale Hall , Sir C Turner and L Bell, Esq.,
church, St Cuthbert, Rev – Thomson – 17 miles.
Kirkleatham
Hall and Hospital, Sir Chas Turner, Bart; church, St Cuthbert, Rev J Shaw – 7
miles.
Kirby Hall, J
Hindson and Miss Dobson; church St Augustine, Rev J Harcourt – 17 miles.
Kilton Castle
and Hall, Wm Tulley, Esq. – 5 miles.
Liverton,
Viscount Down and Thomas Petch, Esq., church of ease,
Rev R Chapman – 6 miles.
Lofthouse, Sir
H Lawrence, and Sir R Dundas, MP, JP; church, St Lennard, Rev Wm Barrick – 4
miles.
Mulgrave
Castle, Earl Mulgrave; Lyth church, St Oswald, Rev W Long – 12 miles.
Marton Hall,
Major Rood, Captain Cook’s birthplace; church, St Cuthbert, Rev D Duck.
Marske Hall,
Sir Lawrence Dundas; church, St Germain, Rev J Wilkinson – 2 miles.
Middlebro’, J Parrington Esq.,
farmer, formerly a nunnery, incumbent, Rev J Bensen.
Newton Grove, J
Spink, Esq., Roseberry Topping; church, Rev JC
Metcalf – 10 miles.
Normanby Hall,
WW Jackson, Esq., and C Dryden, Esq.
– 9 miles.
Nunthorp Hall, Thomas Simpson, Esq.; chapel of ease, Rev – Thompson – 10 miles.
Ormesby Hall,
Sir Wm Penniman, Bart; church, St Cuthbert, Rev R Waughan
– 11 miles.
Ormesby North,
Sir Wm Penniman, Bart – 13 miles.
Potto Grange,
James Wilton, Esq – 14 miles.
Pinchingthopre Hall, J Lee, Esq.
– 9 miles.
Preston Hall, M
Fowler, Esq. – 14 miles
Redcar and
Coatham, Sir C Turner; church, St Peter, Rev J Wilkinson – 6 miles.
Rosebury
Conical Peak, Newton – 11 miles.
Roxby – Tunton, Esq., and – Kildall Esq., JP – 9 miles.
Saltburn Old,
JH Wharton, Esq.
Saltburn New,
from which distances are taken.
Skelton Castle,
De Brus, and JH Wharton Esq.; church, All Saints, Rev
J Parrington – 2 miles.
Stokesley Manor
House, Rev H Hildyard, incumbent; church, St Peter, the Rev, the Dean of York –
16 miles.
Stangho Hall, Richard Scarth, Esq – 4 miles.
Staithes
Fishery, Thms Thrattles,
Esq – 8 miles.
Stockton South,
and Thornaby; chapel of ease – 20 miles.
Stenton church,
the Rev Archdeacon Hambleton – 18 miles.
Tockets Hall, General Hails – 5 miles.
Tolesby Hall, J Rood, Esq – 15 miles.
Trout Hall, Skelton,
C Irvine, Esq – 3 miles.
Upleatham Hall,
Thomas Lord Dundas; church, Rev J Wilkinson – 3 miles.
Westerdale;
chapel of ease, Stokesley – 11 miles.
Whitby Hall,
Abbey and Harbour; church, St Mary, Rev J Andrews and Rev J Young – 20 miles.
Whorlton Castle, Lady Mary Aylesbury; church,
Holy Cross, Rev W Dawson
20 miles.
Wilton Castle,
Sir J Lowther, Bart; church, St Cuthvert, Rev J Saul
– 6 miles.
Yarm, Thomas Maynell, Esq.; church, St Mary
Magdelene, Rev Richard Graves – 26 miles.
Yerby,
Kirkleatham Hospital – 7 miles.
CW Hird,
Printer, Northgate, Darlington
For a modern
History of Saltburn, see:
https://www.chrisscottwilson.co.uk/local-history-books/4544927233
3. The History of Kilton with a Sketch of the Neighbouring
Villages, by the Returned Emigrant
In 1870, John
Farndale published a work more directly about Kilton itself.
This
text is written anonymously by “The Returned Emigrant”. It is not
immediately apparent who this is. It starts to be written in the third person.
The text records that the Returned Emigrant was born in 1787. That was not the
year of John Farndale’s birth – he was born in 1791. Indeed I do not know of any possible members
of the Farndale family born on that date who might have fitted a description of
the Returned Emigrant, who tells of his travels to America. John did not travel
overseas as far as we know, but this was a time of emigration - his brother
Matthew Farndale, (FAR00225) had emigrated to Australia in 1853 and
his son, John George Farndale (FAR00337), after fighting in the Crimean War,
emigrated to Ontario in 1870, the same year of publication. So
it is not difficult to see why he may have written in the name of a person
returned from an overseas adventure. The text writes extensively of the
Farndales, as well as about Kilton.
There is little doubt that the author
was John Farndale. Although the text
starts to be written in the third person, of the
experience of the Returned Emigrant, it later turns to the first person. It
adopts some significant similarities in the language to the History of
Saltburn. In the text in the first person it repeats
poetry which was written by John Farndale in his history of Saltburn – see for
instance the “O Why did I ever leave home” poem in this text, which
comes directly from a longer poem authored by John Farndale in his history of
Saltburn.
With
a Sketch of the Neighbouring Villages
By
the Returned Emigrant
Dedicated
to the Rev William Jolley
Toronto,
Canada, America
Middlesbrough
Burnett
& Hood, “Exchange” Printing Offices
1870
(Redcar
Cleveland Library Book No: R000040114Published: 1870, Classification: 942.854,
Book No: R000040114’ Facsimile reprint).
Skinningrove
Hall, Cleveland, Yorkshire
Introduction
An introduction
to this small work, although small, yet I hope it will be interesting to the
Tourist. The Emigrant’s return after a long series of years to his nativity, as
well as the missionary from the continent; the soldier from his long campaign;
the life guard from the city of London – all these we
have hailed with joy to their dear home – Kilton, which
was formerly proverbial for the multitude of children. Now, strange to say,
there are no little boys and girls playing there. Is this well-pleasing to kind
Providence, who said to our first parents, when he put them into the Garden of
Eden, “Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth”? Would it not be
advisable to divide, and subdivide, and divide again this great continent –
this farm, and obey our Father’s commands, being fruitful and multiplying,
and what a noble race of young boys and girls would then be playing in this
Jerusalem, as in the olden time. We are not surprised to hear the above, on
their return from a far country, saying, “No place can equal Kilton for
loveliness”, standing as it does, in the midst of sylvan scenery, beautiful
landscape and woodland scenery, and what a perfume of sweet fragrance from wild flowers, particularly the primrose-acres that would
grace any gentleman’s pleasure ground for beauty and for loveliness. Kilton, as
it is situated, is fitted only for a prince.
The
Emigrant’s Return to visit his birthplace – Kilton
The Emigrant’s
return on a visit to his nativity – his father’s father’s
house, and where he was born in 1787 – Kilton-in-Cleveland, in the County of
York, who, for that purpose, crossed the Atlantic Ocean from America to England
and landed at the great Liverpool. Words cannot express the happy emotions
throbbing through his mind, as they steamed up the Mersey, and stepping on the
shores of old England, thoughts and words like Philippi, King of the French,
when he escaped for his life from the massacre, and abdicated the throne of the
French, saying, as he trod the English shore, “Thank God I tread on old
England’s happy peaceful shore!”. But having no wish to delay, he booked at
once for Yorkshire, and his long wished for home of his father’s fathers – Kilton.
Every minute, every turning of the wheels glided him on, on till he views the
great York Minster, and the range of the Yorkshire hills, nearing Roseberry,
nearing home. He dashed through Middlesbrough, with its 40,000, Eston Branch
with its blazing furnaces, and new Saltburn-by-the-Sea, all of which he had
never seen. But yonder on the high ridge
stands Brotton Church; there was to be seen his father’s tomb, when no
time was lost ere he stood on the sepulchre of his father. Reading words and
figures chiselled out, near one hundred years before, then moistening the green
sward with tears of reflection, below where his father’s ashes lay, then, with
slow and solemn step, turned away, and took the well known lane down to Kilton, when at Howe Hill, and
seeing a towering chimney above all; what misgivings now trouble his
unprepared, peaceful breast. But when he neared his father’s homestead, and no
place of it could be found, he moved forward, and looking right and left, he
saw some twenty cottages and farmsteads, and behold that beautiful hall and
stables that once graced this little town had all disappeared. And he would
have enquired had there not been some eruption or some hostile invasion, or had
the city not been burnt to ashes, for said he, here are marks of violence and
desperation. But “I know nobody no not I, and nobody, nobody here cares for
me,” and he lifted up his voice and wept aloud. And he
began to examine the book of records, and genealogies of former days, days
of his fathers’, and of his youth. I
remember said he some one hundred and twenty parents and children, besides men-servants and women-servants; I remember ten farmers
occupant of some seven hundred acres of land, and now it’s absorbed into one
large farm, by laying field to field, and adding farm to farm. Surely this
gentleman must be Lord of Kilton Manors, for formerly it comprised two Manors.
Then he asked, where are all those respected farmers? Had they and their sons
to find a home in some far-away land, and to perish out of sight? I see in the
book recorded and registered in olden time, the names of farmers who once
occupied this great farm – R and W Jolly, M
Young, R Mitchell; W Wood, J Harland, T Toas, J Readman, J Farndale (FAR00143), S
Farndale (Samuel Farndale, FAR00149), J and W
Farndale (Perhaps the brothers John Farndale FAR00167, and
William Farndale, FAR00183), all these
tenants once occupied this great farm; now blended into one. I remember what a muster at the Kilton rent
days, twice a year, when dinner was provided for a quarter of a hundred
tenants, Brotton, Moorsholm, Stanghoe, those paid
their rents at Kilton; and were indeed belonging to the Kilton Court, kept here
also, and the old matron proudly provided a rich plum pudding and roast beef;
and the steward also a jolly punch bowl, for it was a pleasure to him to take
the rents at Kilton, the day before Skelton rent day. The steward always called
old J Farndale (FAR00143) to the
vice-chair, he being old, and the oldest tenant.
Farndale’s was the most numerous family, and had lived
on the estate for many ages. Kilton had many mechanics, and here we had a
public house, a meeting house, two lodging houses, and a school house, to learn
our ABCs, from which sprang two eminent school masters, who became extremely
popular; we had a butcher’s shop, we had a London tailor and is apprentice, and
eight other apprentices more; we had a rag merchant and a shop which sold song
books, pins, needles, tape and thread; we had five sailors, two soldiers, two
missionaries, besides a number of old people, aged
80, 90 and 100 years. But last, not least, Wm Tulley Esq.,
who took so much interest in the old castle – planted its orchard, bowling
green, and made fish ponds, which were fed by a
reservoir near the Park House, Kiltonthorpe, Kilton
Lodge, together with all these improvements around the castle, which are now no
more.
The
author is describing real people from Kilton here. For instance
we know from the case study by Jane Dowey below that one of the sons of Robert
Jolly moved away from Kilton and became a life guard to George III and the
other son eventually became a minister
Presumably
some of the ages reached are exaggerated! Assuming John Farndale refers to the
author’s grandfather, John in fact died at the age of 83.
Here we have chronicled something like a genealogy of a
race of people once throng the streets of Kilton, but where are they now to be found? Many of them have gone to
their everlasting reward, yet a few, a small few, remain unto this day. We believe Kilton had the pre-eminence of many of its
neighbouring villages. We knew no poachers, no cockfighters, no drunkards, or
swearers. Kilton people were church-going people, yet, on a Sunday afternoon,
what hosts of young men and young women mustered for play, their song was:
There is little Kilton, lies under yon
hill,
Lasses anew lad, come when you will;
They’re witty, they’re pretty, they’re
handsomely bound,
A lo! for the lasses in Kilton town.
I cannot forget
that marvellous deliverance of little Farndale (FAR00167), when he
fell head foremost into the well, and was found dangling by a buckle on his
shoe. That well is shut up, and all those well known
cottages and shops of business and farmsteads all rased
to the ground, and not a wreck is left behind.
This was the
only liberty those fair damsels had, they had no time allowed to waste, when
the cows were milked and supper ended they and their
dames, all hands sat down to their wheels, for all farmers spun their linen and
woollen ware. I have in my house, both sheeting and blankets spun at Kilton
seventy years ago, and weaved and bleached also at
Kilton.
As my time is
limited and I must take the first mail, I should like a day’s ramble to see
once more and for ever this most delightful district, and all the villages
around my native home – little Kilton.
Kilton Old
Castle in the Wood
Camden,
in speaking of Kilton and Kilton Old Castle, as Farndale (FAR00167) has it in his Guide to Saltburn by the
Sea, says “It is situated in a park belonging to the ancient families of Thweng and Lumley’s. Baron Lumley, of Kilton Castle, died
in battle, having joined the Earl of Kent and others to restore King Richard,
then deposed. Kilton Manors, for there were two, became forfeited to the crown,
but restored to the Thwing’s and Lumbley’s, by Henry IV, and by marriage to Wm
Tulley Esq., who died at Kilton Hall, and was
interred in Brotton Church 1741, aged 72 years. Then to Dr Waugh, of Carlisle,
and next in kin to the Misses Waugh, who sold the estate to Miss Wharton, of
Thirsk Hall, a rich old lady, and this lady presented it as a gift to her
nephew, J Hall Wharton Esq., MP, and now it is the
property of JT Wharton Esq., of Skelton Castle. At
the above date Kilton Hall was then a beautiful building, much admired. Mr Ord,
in giving a description of Kilton Castle, says “Few ruins in England can equal
this venerable relic of antiquity – as a fortress it must have proved impregnable
previous to the introduction of artillery. Standing on
a high triangular precipice unapproachable. Except on the west, and here it was
defended by a mote and draw bridge, and large massive
gate way doors”
Kilton Castle
In this figure is represented Old
Reynard and the two dogs that took him as he leaped from the Watch Tower in the
presence of the Author, and Consitt Dryden Esq., sixty years ago
Here
Let me
remind the singing bird,
The
feathered tribe, and say –
Other guests
than you lone birds,
Other music
here was heard –
In olden
times, in bye-gone days,
The brave,
the sage, the bard.
Festive rev’lry went round,
With
sparkling goblets filled;
Rich carpets
clad the ground
Where ox his
belly fills.
Our father’s
fathers told us
What noble
deeds were done
In olden
times before them –
Their
father’s mothers’ sons.
We’ve seen
life’s morning brighten
We’ve
revelled in its day;
And tho’ the rosy sunset
Is changing
into grey,
With all so
calm before us,
‘Tis
pleasure to look back;
And mark
where pleasure’s sun beams
Have left
their golden track.
As my time is limited,
and I must be off by the first mail, I should like a day’s ramble once more and
for ever, to this most delightful district, and villages around Brotton, and
Brotton Church, the sepulchre of my fathers’, and where with them I was a
regular attender. I remember old Willie Swales bidding his dead father
farewell, and his intended verses on his tomb stone –
“Whea lies here? Whea d’ye think?
Poor Willie
Swales – he loved a drop of drink;
Drink to him
as you pass by,
For poor
Willie Swales was always dry.”
The church has
been greatly improved, new slated roof and a most radical change in the
interior; the old pews and pulpit are all gone, and from the walls Our Fathers’
prayer; the Belief; the ten commandments, in the xx chapter of Exodus, saying
“I am the Lord thy God which brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the
house of bondage; thou shalt have none other gods before me.” Had I not seen
those well known tablets of young Squire Easterby, of Skinngrove
Hall, and Wm Tulley , Esy of
Kilton Hall, on beautiful white marble, I should have been at a loss to have
known the old church again. I looked at the place where the old pulpit stood,
and I remembered the ministers that once preached Jesus and the resurrection,
among them my old master, the Rev Wm Barrick, of Lofthouse, - he would descend
from the pulpit and join in the chorus of some twenty voices, 57 years gone,
when I had the happiness to be their chieftain. The parishioners had … most
gladly … and paraded down the mid street at the celebration of the great battle
of Waterloo, and burned before Mr Stephenson’s Hall, when barrels of ale were
given to the frantic multitudes, and the old gentlemen danced and sang until
day break, and here we find young Farndale, once dangling at the mouth of the
well, with his bugle and clarionet, the chief
musician to the old gentleman, and who had also composed the following lines
for the occasion –
Hail! Ye
victorious heroes,
England’s
dauntless saviours, ye
Who on the
plains of Waterloo,
Won that glorious
victory.
It was a day
the world may say,
When
Napoleon boldly stood,
Upon the
plains of the Waterloo,
There flowed rivulets of blood.
Before the
foe he bravely fought,
And when
he’d all but won the day,
Would it were night, or Blucher up,
Our hero
Wellington did say.
But now
behold in effigy,
Him to whom
kings such homage paid,
Napoleon
mounted on a mule
As though he
were on grand parade,
Behold with joy
all England sings, Brotton too is up and gay,
The band,
the flag, the ball, the dance
Ne’er ceased
till the break of day.
Skelton, once
my happy home, I see the neat chapel is the same, but I see a sad draw back in
the bridge house, where once the old Squire dwelt. The old church, croned with high and majestic trees, in sight of the
princely Skelton Castle, the seat of J T Wharton, Esq, and there, in days long
gone, when at Christmas balls were met with sons and daughters in their vast
[finery?] and joined in dance with them and the Miss Wharton’s, while the old
gentleman, with his lady, looked on –
I ask, May I
compose a line?
Most proud
indeed I’d be,
Where kings and queens and noblemen,
Those merry
days had seen.
The brave De
Brus, the Fauconberg,
Vast numbers
yet besides,
Conyers,
Trotters, Whartons, Halls,
That once
did here abide.
Our late
dear Squire we did admire,
His heart
would melt and soar,
He left this
pile, and went awhile,
We never saw
him more.
His castle
yet, this noble pile,
Stands
bright, and fresh as ever,
So let it
stand, and grace this land,
And change
its name, no never.
In the year
1783, the whole of the old baronial fortress of De Brus was pulled dowqn, and in its stead the present castle was erected,
standing as it does in the centre of sylvan landscapes, which scarcely can be
surpassed in loveliness, and being associated with recollections of the
chivalrous achievements and illustrious history of the De Bruce, who once
resided here.
On my way to
Old Saltburn I passed Bell’s gothic hall, and in view of the pleasure grounds
of the new town, Saltburn by the Sea, and that magnificent iron bridge of
Squire Wharton’s, mountains high, and spanning the dell across the most
delightful ravine to the new town. But as its erection, awful to say, three
workmen were dashed from the top to the bottom and were killed. Then again I see the old Cat Nab, where I have seen thousands of bundles of rods for the northern coal pits. I can
imagine how old Wm Farndale (FAR00183), and
his host of men and waggons loading with rods the sloop The Two Brothers, and
after dining together at David Latter’s little public house, when perhaps
another vessel appeared for the next tide, and another for the tide following,
and those chosen handy men failed not to be in time and on the spot when all
must be done before Old Neptune came creeping round, but oft time Billy and
Farmer have been belly deep, yet the work must be done. This was Old Saltburn’s
prosperity, when gin could be got for a penny a glass, real Hollands. In the
former days there were seen oft times near Old Saltburn, two or three luggers
at a time all laden with contraband goods, and the song of the crews used to be
–
If ever we
should the Scottish coast hie,
We’ll make
Capt Oggerby, the king’s cutter fly.
Old King
Saltburn, Dear Old Saltburn
When a boy I
remember his glee,
When high in
the valley he stood,
What a jolly
old fellow was he,
Old King Saltburn, dear Old
Saltburn,
How low in
the valley is he,
Would he
tell us his merry exploits,
What a jolly
good fellow he’d be.
On my way to
Skinningrove, I mounted the rocky, craggy height of Huntcliff,
what an extensive view far and wide, and where the Cormorant, Bittern, Raven,
Jack, and the Gull made their nests and home, and on the rocky beach below balmed in the sun the Sea Calf where many a gallant ship
and crew have perished. I find the cliff considerably lowered, and a railroad
to Skinningrove and Lofthouse. The sea bird has sought, another home, and I
thus pensively reflected on bye gone days, said –
On the steep
rock of Huntcliff I stood,
Wash’d below by the ocean’s white foam,
And a voice
seemed to whisper to me,
O why did I
ever leave home.
The friends
of my youth are all gone,
No more in
these valleys to roam;
In the grave yard at Brotton they rest,
O why did I
ever leave home.
Then passing
down Cattersty Creak, where many a cargo of smuggled
goods have been delivered here, is a very choice place. The last I remember in
this place is that Tom Webster strangled himself by carrying gin tubs round is
neck. Once more I stand on Skinningrove duffy sands,
where I have seen it crowded with wood and corf rods
for the North by the said Wm (FAR00183) and
John (FAR00143)
Farndale. But what crowds of horses, men, and waggons, when the gin ship
appeared in view. Our friends had no dealings with those Samaritan gin runners,
yet they had great dealings at Skinningrove seaport, oth
in export and import, as well as supplying the hall of F Easterby Esq., with corn, wheat, oats, beans, butter, cheese, hams,
potatoes &c, &c, and once, a year
at Christmas – they balanced accounts, over a bottle of Hollands gin,
and after eulogising each other, the squire would rise and say, “Johnny, when
you are gone, there will never be such another Johnny Farndale (FAR00143)”. Here
lived the King’s officer, in the high season of gin running, but I knew of few
captures; he wished to live and die in peace, and the revenue received little
from his services. Near Skinnngrove are the Lofthouse
iron mines, Messrs Pearse, lessees. Above is the grand iron bridge standing on
twelve massive pillars, 178 feet high, which spans the cavern from the Kilton
Estate to Liverton Estate, the first and grandest in all England. Lofthouse, and
their long famed alum works, which has been the support
of Lofthouse for ages gone, but now discontinued. How well I remember my school
days when we faced all weather through Kilton Woods, and how I respected my
masters – the Rev Wm Barrick, Mr Wm King, the great navigator, and Captain
Napper, steward to the works. The popular Midsummer Lofthouse fair was the only
fair we children were allowed to attend.
Crinkle
Park, Easington
I called at
this park, and found that it exceeded my sanguine
expectations. The hall, which is well built, is of freestone, and the park, the
towers, plantations, walks, shrubberies, and vineries are all in good taste. My
guide called my attention to a relic from Kilton Hall, by the late Squire
Wharton – the arms of Wm Tulley Esq., which I have
valued, as a relic from Kilton Hall, worth £1,000. Handale Abbey,
once a brilliant linen spinning factory with ne hundred windows, was a grand sight
from Kilton when the sun rose in the morning. The abbey, a fine building of
free stone, was well furnished, and kept by one servant as a shooting box, a
situation for any gentleman had it been elsewhere but a most retired situation.
Liverton adjoining, ‘twas here my school going ended, but I shall never finish
until death. Here were characters notorious for poachers, and cockfighters.
Once I stepped to see them, when I saw a lot of vagabonds, and in the pit two
naked birds, with steel spurs two inches long, and the little birds fighting
for death. Here were respected families who cared not for these things, and I
proceeded.
Easington
is east of Loftus.
Handale is south of Loftus.
Moorsholm
Moorsholm on
the Moor, near that noted Freeburgh Hill, as round and beautiful as a pear, and from
which you can view ten square miles of ;land moor, and
see most delightfully. It was here a young mother came many miles, and behind
this hill butchered her innocent little boy, and quartered him, for which she
was deservedly transported for life. Here let me relate an anecdote of Paul,
who lived and died at Moorsholm. There was an assize trial at York about a
water course running under ground, and Paul, who was a fine upright fellow,
with a high brow and bluff face, had to appear as a witness on the occasion.
When Paul went into the witness box, the counsellor on the opposite side having
silenced a man of letters, very promptly said to Paul as he stared at him,
“Well Mr Baconface, and what have you got to say n
the subject?” “Why,” replied Paul, with a significant grin, “if my bacon face
and thy calf head were boiled together they would make
a good broth.” The counsellor looked abashed, and the whole court roared with
laughter. Again, to fix Paul, “Well, my man, how did you know that it was the
same water that run out as that which run in.” “Why I took care to blunder it
before it went in, and it came out blundered.” Paul won the case.
Freeburgh Road today runs through Moorsholm village towards Freeburgh Hill at Ordnance Survey Grid NZ689127.
By Lockwood Beck Little Public House to Stanghow
Here Kilton
waggoners called for refreshment as they returned from the coal pits home, and
oft-times at snow cuttings, then they have spent a merry night. The last I
remember was when Willie Swales dropped in on his night rambles, and would call
for another pot, when lo, the Old Stag’s Head cellar was dry. It was not long
after this that he was found dead in a field under his cart,
and was buried in Brotton Church Yard. Stanghow was his home. We pass by
our dear cousins, J Scarth Esq., they have gone to
their resting place, the grave. I now pass Kilton Thorp, to spend a night with my old friend Farndale. On entering his hospitable
hall I said, “Sir, I am reminded of the battle of Waterloo, when Wellington and
Blucher with their lion-looking men accidentally met pursuing the fugitive
French, when those two great generals, with uncovered heads, congratulated
themselves and their victorious armies, and so may I you; your father (FAR00183) and
mine almost in equal circumstances placed us in this world to fight our passage
through. If providence do point a demarcation and you follow, all well, but if
you cross the line of providence your case will not be like the two generals, their’s were one equal interest – the salvation of their
country and themselves. I find yours have been on the defensive, mine on the
aggressive; you never left the citadel and therefore met no foe, but to the
contrary, I have battled the world round, and therefore often found in fierce
engagements with the foe. The contrast is widely different – peace on the one
hand and war n the other. But all are equal in the grave. And now I will
advertise what shall befall Kilton in those later days. Kilton will stand most
pre-eminently above all the villages around. In imagination even now I see
splendid terraces, standing in view of Lofthouse, Easington, Handale Abbey, Liverton, and a hall exceeding
far the former one; I see a parsonage house and school house and cottages, many
already, plantations, and a most splendid agricultural homestead on the best
modern plan. Good success to JT Wharton Esq., of
Skelton Princely Castle.
Lockwood
Beck Farm is at NZ670138 and Stanghow is NW of Moorsholm.
So he writes of his old friend, John Farndale, the author. Whilst
this might tend to suggest John Farndale is not himself the author, it seems
that this is his literary tool.
This
text is quite difficult to interpret. The Returned Emigrant is speaking to John
Farndale the author and comparing his life of aggressive travel, to John
Farndale’s peaceful (perhaps passive) sedentary life. It seems to be almost
degrading of John’s passivity. But the language is fond of John. The similarity
of text and stories in the preceding text, make it more likely that this is all
the work of John himself.
And now,
dear Farndale, he best of friends must part,
I bid you
and your little Kilton a long and final farewell!
Time was
unto all a precious boon,
Time is
passing away so soon;
Time no ore is vast eternity,
World
without end, oceans without shore.
The
final poem is exactly the same as that which ends
John’s Saltburn Guide, except for the last line which differs.
Burnett &
Hood, “Exchange” Offices, Middlesborough.
4. John Farndale’s Memoirs
On his 84th
birthday (1874) John wrote his memoirs. I do not have a copy of the full text,
but there are records of extracts. The following notes are taken from his
memoirs which were written in very descriptive Victorian English.
He stated that
he was in good health. He died in 1879 aged 88.
He first
described Kilton as "of great interest with a great hall, stable,
plantation and ancient stronghold in ruins (Kilton Castle)". "It
is still a small place" he says and he
describes how many have left it and made their name.
"My
first remembrance began in my nurse's arms when I could not have been more than
1 ½ years old; a memory as vivid as if it were yesterday. She took me out on St
Stephen's Day 1973 into the current Garth (a small enclosure) with a stick and
'solt' to kill a hare. A
great day at the time.” Another time (after celebrating the victory of
Trafalgar, 1805) he was dangling head foremost down the draw well hanging by
the buckle of his shoe. He goes on to describe a very happy childhood and he
clearly adored his mother. "At this time I
believe I loved God and was happy."
He remembered
"an old relation of my father" (there were several in Kilton
at that time) remarking that his elder brother George was a "prodigal
son", while John was the son at home with his father. But he describes
how he got up to many frolics and had some narrow
escapes, although he was no drunkard or swearer.
His parents, he
said, "were strict Church people and kept a strict look out. I became
leader of the (Brotton) church signers, clever in music" and he
excelled his friends. He had a close friend, a musician in the church choir.
One day he met him and said he had been very ill and had been reading a lot of
books including "Aeleyn's Alarum"
and others "which nearly made my hair stand on end." . His friend told him that he was going to alter his
way of life and if John would not refrain from his revelries, he would "be
obliged to forsake your company.". "That was a nail in a sure
place. I was ashamed and grieved as I thought myself more pious than he. Now I
began to enter a new life as suddenly at St Paul's but with this difference, he
was in distress for three days and nights but for me it was three months".
He fasted all Lent and describes his torment. "How
often I went onto the hill with my Clarinet to play my favourite tune."
His companion
lived one mile away (at Brotton perhaps?) and they met half
way every Sunday morning at 6am for prayer. He remembered well meeting
in a corner of a large grass field. George (Sayer) began
and he followed. When they finished they opened their
eyes to see "a rough farm lad standing over
us, no doubt a little nervous. Next day this boy said to others in the harvest
field 'George Sayer and John Farndale are two good lads for I found them in a
field praying.' " On the following Sunday they moved to a small wood
and met under an oak tree and met an old man who wanted to join them. As usual
George began and John continued when the old man began
to roar in great distress.
5. A text, Impact of Agricultural Change on
the Rural Community - a case study of Kilton circa 1770-1870, Janet Dowey includes
much about John Farndale and his writings
The most
predominant family at Kilton was the Farndales, their ancestry ages old. Its
most distinguished member John Farndale wrote numerous books on the area.
Kilton, the village itself had been a thriving community consisting of a public
house, a meeting house, two lodging houses and a schoolhouse, from which sprang
two eminent schoolmasters. A butcher's shop, a London tailor and his apprentice
and eight others, a rag merchant, a shop which sold some books, pens, needles,
tape and thread. Five sailors, two soldiers, two missionaries plus a number of very old people.
The picture
John Farndale paints is of a peaceful rural community who boasted of no poachers,
no cockfighters, no drunkards or swearers. A church going people who met
together on a Sunday afternoon. Kilton at that time had nearly 20 houses and a
population of 140 men, women and children, a Hall, stables, plantation and the
old Castle plus 12 small farms stop when John wrote these books
he was speaking of a time long since gone (the early nineteenth century), he
listed each family that lives lived within the village.
Robert Jolly
was a farmer and a staunch Wesleyan. After his death his farm was carried on
awhile by his sons. This being the time of Nelson's death (1805), John goes on
to say that there was great reformation in Kilton estate, "the little
farms were joined together, about 150 acres each. Every farmer had to move to a
new farm. The sons of Robert Jolly each moved away at this time, one became a
lifeguard to George III and the other eventually became a minister. William
Bulmer was another native of Kilton and married with nine children, he made his
living buying and selling, but all his children moved away into 'respectable'
situations."
Many of the
farmers were weavers too, one in particular, George Bennison,
had two looms plus his land and also prepared a colt for Northallerton fair
once a year stop. The children of these farmers continually moved away from the
district and agriculture. John Farndale says "and
now they disappear, but where are they gone, I know not". John Tuke says
"it is observable, but in those families which have succeeded from
generation to generation to the same farm, the strongest attachment to old
customs prevails. For conduct and character, the farmer under survey must
deservedly rank high among their fellows in any part of England, they are
generally sober, industrious and orderly; most of the younger part of them have
enjoyed a proper education, and give a suitable one to their children, who, of
both sexes, are brought up in habits of industry and economy. Such conduct
rarely fails meeting its reward; they who merit, and seek it, obtain
independence, and every generation, or part of every generation, may be seen stepping
forward to a scale in society somewhat beyond the last."
However Thomas Hardy in his book "Tess of
the D'Urbervilles", states "all mutations so increasingly discernible
in village life did not originate entirely in the agricultural unrest. A
depopulation was going on." The village life which Hardy talks about had
previously "contained" side by side with agricultural labourers an
"interesting and better informed class".
These included a carpenter, a Smith, shoemaker, huckster "together with
nondescript workers" in addition to the farm labourers. A group of people who
"owed a certain stability of aim and conduct to the fact of their being
life-holders or copyholders or occasionally small freeholders." When the
long holdings fell in they were rarely again let to
identical tenants, and they were usually pulled down, if they were not needed
by the farmer or his workers. "Cottagers who were not directly employed on
the land were looked upon with disfavour, and the banishment of some starved
the trade of others, who were thus obliged to follow." Families such as
these had formed the backbone of the village life in the past who were the
depositories of the village traditions, had to seek refuge in the large
centres; the process, designated by statisticians as the tendency of the rural
population towards the large towns being really the tendency of water to flow
uphill when forced by machinery.
And so to the conclusion:-
"An
introduction to this small work, although small, yet I hope it will be
interesting to the tourist. The emigrants returning after a long series of
years to his nativity, as well as the missionary from the continent, the
soldier from his long campaign; the lifeguard from the city of London all these
we have hailed with joy to their dear home Kilton, which strange to say there
are no little boys ought and girls playing there. Is
this well pleasing, to kind providence, who said to our first parents, when he
puts them into the Garden of Eden, "be fruitful and multiply, and
replenish the earth." Would it not be advisable to divide and subdivide
and divide again this great continent - this farm, and obey our Father's commands, being fruitful and multiplying, and what
a noble race of young girls would then be playing in this Jerusalem, as in the
olden time.
We are now
surprised to hear the above, on their return from a far country saying,
"no place can equal Kilton for loveliness" standing as it does, in the midst of sylvan scenery, beautiful landscape and
woodland scenery, and what a perfume of sweet fragrance from wildflowers,
particularly the primrose acres that would grace any gentleman's pleasure
ground of beauty into loveliness. Kilton as it is situated, is fitted only for
a prince"
"Now much
has changed, we oft times have looked and looked again, but no corner of this
large farm has been neglected. Witness, this rich stack yard of 100 acres of
wheat, the staff of life, and 100 more, oats, beans, peas, hay, clover,
potatoes and turnips piled up against the winter storms. In the fold are housed
100 head of sheep, a stable with 14 farming horses, besides the young horses,
pigs and geese in abundance, carts, wagons, ploughs and harrows and all
implements.
"He
makes across the hills adorn,
He clothes
the smiling fields with corn,
the beasts
with food his hands supply,
and the
young ones when they cry."
This was the
Kilton John Farndale knew and loved. It had changed beyond belief. Several of
the very old and larger states were less crowded than they had been; where a
better cultivation had taken place, the small cottages had given way gradually
to shape a farm worthy of the person having such money to improve it. A lot of
the field structures and hedges were still in place, only some of the hedges
had been taken out to make bigger fields. The hedge structure at Kilton was
probably there 50 years before John Farndale was born. In one instance a hedge
appears to have been put in to divide a field.
Some of the
reasons for the demise of Kilton were the industrial revolution, which was the
need to centralise craftsmen from the small villages, a revolution in farming
methods and farming machinery, a wholesale destruction of the village for the
town. The Napoleonic Wars had an influence on the price of farm produce, the
price of food was kept at a fairly high level during
the war but after the war finished the price of grain fell to one of its lowest
levels along with falling meat prices, and disastrous harvests. Farming methods
were needed to get the harvest in quicker. This finally led the landlord to
enlarge the farms and bring in a farmer with money to modernise the farm. The
mechanisation of farming policies on the one hand and the progressive quantity
of urban factories on the other, combined to drastically alter that rural life.
Taking into consideration also the turnpike roads, the invention of the railway
and the canal networks it is obvious that economic and technological forces
were bringing far reaching changes. During the period when enclosure was in
progress, "the revolution in agricultural methods", there was
moderately steady process of new village creation, a considerable upsurge
within the 18th century. Enclosure or amalgamation of the Kilton village farms,
probably happened in the late 1860s, thus was the complete destruction of the
village.
Kilton
became a victim not only of the "Monstre
farm" but also of the Industrial Revolution
"And
now dear Farndale, the best of friends must part,
I
bid you and your little Kilton along and final farewell.
Time
was on to all our precious boon,
Time
is passing away so soon,
Time
know more about his vast eternity,
World
without end oceans without shore."
John Farndale. 1870