The Works of John Farndale (1791 to 1878)
His Works 1861 to 1874
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This
page transcripts the works by John Farndale who
wrote extensively of Saltburn, Kilton and the surrounding area
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.”
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 Nab. 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.
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.
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