There are many people that have made and subsequently shaped history. In Northern Folk, Bernie McCormick explores just a few of these people and in doing so grants us a unique insight into their lives.

Through a series of mini-biographies we are introduced to a variety of folk beginning with the Pease family of Darlington and Joseph Pease, the 'father of Middlesbrough'. We go on to discover how another Darlington lad, Jeremiah Dixon, influenced an American civil war folk song. We learn about George Stephenson's perseverance in constructing both the Stockton and Darlington and Liverpool to Manchester railways, amongst others, and Richard Grainger's contribution to the architecture and development of the city of Newcastle; how George Hudson earned his title the 'Railway King' and yet suffered humiliation and financial ruin and then go on to witness the steely determination of Sir Edwin Alliott Verdon Roe.

In the midst of all this industrial growth and engineering firsts, we are presented with the beauty and grace of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, when the author invites us to explore her life and her poetry, as well as the more humorous writings of Robert Smith Surtees.

Although born in London, Charles Algernon Parsons is fundamentally a ‘northern folk’. Parsons embarked and completed his life’s work in and around Tyneside, inventing the turbine engine and testing it successfully on the famous ship Turbinia. Not so long ago, any Geordie, asked whom he would want his son apprenticed to would undoubtedly have replied ‘Charles Parsons’, so esteemed was he in the North East of England.

Charles Parsons was born June 13 1854, at 13, Connaught Place, Hyde Park, London the youngest of six children to the Earl of Rosse, President of the Royal Society. It was from this London address in 1854 that he sent a letter to Sir John Burgoyne, who was Chief of the Engineering Department [TH1]for the British army, saying it was his dream to build an iron steamer, that could run at the enemy ships sinking them with one blow above the cut water. Three-in- one plate would be used, and the funnel would not appear above the deck. A 300 horse power engine would be required. It would take Charles Parsons thirty years to start to realise his father’s [l2] dream, first of all solving the propulsion method of such ships, and in the process finding other discoveries.

The family home was Birr castle, Co.Offaly, Ireland. There Charles and his five brothers enjoyed advantages that other people would envy. The months of May and June were always spent in London, July with their grandmother in Brighton, returning to Ireland in the autumn. A fire had destroyed the central part of Birr Castle.[TH3] However, after restoration the Castle still retained its thick walls, and a forge and workshop were constructed in the old moat. A furnace was also added to melt brass. Another addition was an engine house with machinery for polishing specula for telescopes. There were also lathes for wood and ironwork. Every kind of repair was possible. According to Sir Robert Ball [TH4]Birr Castle was

…a noble place surrounded by a moat, situated in a park through which flowed two rivers, that there unite, about the Lake which was made by Lord Rosse, The waters of the lake operated a water wheel to drain the low lying lands. The telescope was supported by two parallel walls, situated between Birr Castle and the Lake, the tube of the Newtonian, sixty feet long and more than six feet across carried at its lower end the mirror and at the top the eyepiece.

The workshop was where Charles and his father spent all their spare time when Charles was a boy. Many projects were conceived and problems solved here, but mostly the brothers had an out door life, rowing, fishing and shooting. Lessons began at 7.30am, followed by breakfast at 8.00am, then more lessons from 9.00am until noon. They were out of doors until lunch at 2 pm, with lessons again from 5.00pm until 6.30.pm. During these days in Ireland there was much unrest; murders, and robberies were not uncommon. Charles’s father often went to his observatory with pistols in his belt. All shrubs were cut down to deprive intruders of cover but the family was always left alone.

During his spare time, Charles could be seen in the workshop making all kinds of machines. In the Parsons brothers [l5] kept a twenty-ton yacht at Ryde, Cowes, and sometimes at Southampton. The yacht wintered at Leamington [TH6] or Dublin. They later bought Themia, an iron yacht of 150 tons. The brothers crossed the English Channel in her; they also visited Cherbourg, via Land’s End, prior to visiting Ireland. They then purchased Titania, which was 188 tons and also iron, but very fast. Titania had belonged to Robert Stephenson. They cruised in her from Dublin to Stornoway, Cape Wrath, and Wick, then to the east coast of England. They also cruised to Belgium and Holland and Amsterdam and the Zuider Zee where they visited the workshops of the diamond cutters. In 1867 they visited Cologne, Basle and Geneva. However, after the death of Lord Rosse in ? [TH7] family holidays came to an end. The brothers remained at the family home a year after their father’s death then took a house in Dublin, spending summer holidays of 1868 and 1869 at Birr Castle.

In [l8] ? Charles and his brother Clere began their studies at Trinity College, Dublin, where their father had been Chancellor. Charles did very well, winning prizes for mathematics and German He proceeded to St. Johns College, Cambridge where he gained a distinction in mathematics and rowed for his college On graduating from Cambridge in 1877, Charles Parsons went to Elswick, Newcastle upon Tyne on a three-year apprenticeship at the famous Armstrong Whitworth Works. This was the beginning of his long association with the North of England.

During Charles’s boyhood Lupu [TH9]s developed the torpedo. In 1870 the Whitehead torpedo had carried 18 pounds of dynamite and had been bought by the Admiralty for £15,000. In 1872 the famous Peter Brotherhood engine for driving torpedoes appeared. This impressed Parsons immensely; epicyclical engine and a steam turbine. From 1877 to 1884 Parsons’s research in this area kept him fully occupied. He built an experimental compound engine with four cylinders revolving at half speed on the crankshaft. He applied it to drive a Siemans dynamo at 7,000 revolutions a minute. At 10 horse-power, for a time it supplied the arc- light at Elswick jetty. The engine was put to work in a Millwright shop at an ordinance works. Later an Erith firm used the engine and it was so satisfactory for their needs they made more, with good results.

By now Charles Parsons had finished his apprenticeship at Armstrong’s works. The following letter was sent from the works and endorsed by William Armstrong himself:

Dear Sir,
In reply to your request for a recommendation from our firm to assist you in your search for a partnership in an Engineering establishment, pray make use of this letter in which we have pleasure of bearing testimony to your high theoretical knowledge, your constructive abilities, and your promising business qualifications. With this letter we hand you your indentures, which you will observe Sir William Armstrong has kindly certified. We are Sir

At this time Charles’s thoughts were constantly on turbines, rockets and torpedoes but it was also on marriage He met his future wife, Katherine Bethell, in 1882. The marriage took place on January 10 1883, in the Church of All saints in Bramham, Yorkshire. Their first home was in lodgings in Leeds. Parsons was so absorbed in the design of torpedoes that during his honeymoon he took his bride and also a mechanic to the local engine trials every morning. They arrived daily at 7am in bitter cold and frosty weather. It was during these cold mornings that Katherine caught rheumatic fever. By the spring she had fully recovered and they resumed their honeymoon, this time in warmer environments. In five months they visited America, New Mexico and California. In Chicago, as if Katherine hadn’t suffered enough, she was attacked by one of a herd of cattle and was pinned between its wide horns! Shortly after this they returned happily home.

In 1883 Charles joined Clark, Chapman & Co. of Gateshead as a junior partner and for a while studied electric lighting and steam turbines instead of torpedoes. He soon discovered that with a suitable dynamo, the turbine would power the electric lighting of ships.

Charles and Katherine started to turn their attention to a suitable home. Initially they decided on a house in Corbridge on Tyne. This meant that Charles had to leave for Gateshead at 7.30am returning at 8pm; this proved impossible and within a year they made their home at Elvaston Hall, Ryton on Tyne, County Durham. Rachel Mary Parsons was born on January 25 1885, followed by a son, Algernon George born on October 19 of the following year– both at Elvaston Hall. The young family stayed happily here for ten years. From the home workshop, with his daughter Rachel by his side, he produced all kinds of toys. There was the ‘Spider’, a small spirit fuelled three wheeled engine which travelled around the garden chased by the dogs. There was also a steam pram for carrying the children, and even a small flying machine, this was also fuelled by spirit and was actually photographed in full flight.

While his family life offered peace and tranquillity, his career was forging ahead. In 1884 his first steam turbine was running successfully at Gateshead. The Chilean battleship Blanco Encalada arrived at Elswick [TH10] for new boilers and armaments. This was the first warship to be fitted with a Parsons turbine and dynamos-set for electric lighting. By the time Charles Parsons was thirty years of age he was well on his way to a successful engineering career. In the same year, Clark Chapman and Co. fitted the ill-fated HMS Victoria with one of Parsons’s 12 kilowatt combined turbo generators. In May 1887 Parsons was making 4 Kilowatt ‘sets’, for the Suez Canal and he was also completing similar contracts for the Italian, Spanish and Chilean navies. His turbines were rapidly being improved and the relationship of the velocity of the steam to the velocity of the blades received careful attention to improve the efficiency. During 1884-1885 two small portable turbine sets were completed at Gateshead.

In January 1886 there was a severe frost and the swan pond near Sheriff Hill was frozen hard. The Chief Constable of Gateshead, Mr. Elliott, suggested that if the pond could be illuminated, skaters could be attracted and charged a small fee for admission, thus raising some cash for the local hospital. Clark and Parsons gladly loaned a portable turbine in order to generate the lighting. R.N. Redmane in the Newcastle Evening Chronicle of July 22 1931 described the occasion:

Elliott carted the Turbine up to the ground, where it was set up. Lamps were hung round the pond, and the Turbine was got to work. Mr. Joseph Swan supplied the lamps. It was a great success from Elliott’s point of view, because the place was so crowded, that few people could really skate. But every one paid to get in, to say that they had actually skated by electric light. As far as I can remember the frost lasted three days and the Royal Infirmary benefited by £100

In 1887 Parsons became known as the ‘Designer of Plant for the Generation of Electricity’[l11] . In that particular year, ten of his turbo generators, from 15 Kilowatts to 32 Kilowatts each, supplied most of the lighting for the Newcastle Exhibition by means of incandescent lamps, the turbo generator being made at Clark, Chapman & Co. at Gateshead. This was reported to be the most efficient exhibition of incandescent lighting at the time.

These were exciting days for Charles Parsons. He established the suitability of his turbo-alternator for town electricity supply, as well as building machines for Newcastle District Electric Lighting Company. It was mainly due to this wonderful period that Charles Parsons won the freedom of the City of Newcastle upon Tyne in 1914.

In 1889 the Partnership of Clarke, Chapman & Co. was dissolved. Prior to this, in 1889, Parson founded the firm C.A. Parsons and Co. at Heaton, Newcastle upon Tyne. The works primarily manufactured steam turbines for use on land, as well as high-speed electrical machinery suitable for coupling straight to turbines. The works covered two acres. There was also a blacksmith’s shop, testing rooms and offices. At the time the total staff was 48. This was a sharp contrast to the works in 1931 when C.A. Parsons & Co. Ltd. of Heaton covered 20 acres and employed 2,000 people.

By the 1920s, the Parsons name was certainly well known. However, not always for positive reasons: at one of the land stations in Shanghai, in November 1923, there was a terrible accident with a 20,000 kilowatt turbo alternator. At the time it was running unloaded at moderate speed. The turbine rotor shaft forging burst and some lives were lost. There had been a concealed defect in the interior of the forging. The shaft had been made in 1921 from a cold ingot of medium carbon steel of unknown history. An independent company, who accepted responsibility for the defect, had manufactured it. News of the disaster came when Parsons was attending a dinner in London of the British Electrical & Allied Manufacturers Association. Parsons was dining with fellow directors and had to sit right through dinner knowing about the accident. They convened a Board meeting at midnight that very evening and decided to cable Shanghai accepting responsibility as follows:

Deepest regrets at serious accident and loss of life. Sending immediately two chief experts to investigate. Keep all parts for evidence. Will replace turbine and recondition the whole of your plant, entirely at our cost.

Another setback was an explosion aboard King George V, on September 29 1927, when two ship’s firemen lost their lives. This greatly distressed Parsons. The cause, after some time, was traced to scale in the water. Later it was decided only to use distilled water in these high-pressure water boilers. The ship, after rectification, resumed service with satisfactory results.

After Charles Parsons parted company with Clarke Chapman & Co. along with the £20,000 he had initially invested in the company. However, leaving with the patents for his turbines was a little more difficult. For some years there was arbitration and litigation, all stemming from an agreement on individual patents taken out when a board of directors resigned his directorship. These became the property of the company. When Charles tried to regain these, he found that he would have to pay a very large sum, namely, the present day value of the patent. It did not seem quite right that he would have to pay Chapman and Clarke an inflated amount of cash just to work his own patents so Parsons decided to fight the action, which had been endorsed by the arbitrators. Another point raised at the time was that the patents would be virtually useless without Parsons himself. Litigation continued for years until it was decided that Clarke, Chapman & Company carry on with Parsons’ patents without Parsons; in effect develop them on their own. Parsons carried on with his turbines using a different design from the original. As for Clarke and Chapman, they never made any money out of the patents! Later, Parsons was able to regain the patents for a very moderate amount.

In 1897 [l13] a new Company was formed, the Parsons Maritime Steam Turbine Company at Wallsend, Newcastle. It had a registered capital of £500,000 divided into 5,000 shares, each of £100 with a first issue of £240,000. The original company transferred to this company all its powers under the Parsons patents. It took over the right to any future extension or improvements. The prospectus added: ‘…it is proposed forthwith to acquire the advantages of a site on the Tyne for manufacturing turbines and the equipment of Torpedo Boats, Destroyers, and vessels generally. The technical management of the undertaking will remain with Mr. Parsons as Managing Director.’

Charles Parsons began to research the possibility of turbines being used in ocean going shipping, which included warships. He summarised the advantages of marine propulsion:

Parsons had to prove these claims and decided to construct an experimental vessel 100 feet in length, to be propelled by a turbine of 1,000hp: the Turbinia[l14]

The Turbinia had thirty one trials at full speed. Single, two bladed, single four bladed multiple treble propellers, with every modification fitted, the best results were obtained with treble propellers, twenty two inches in diameter which at 1,780 revolutions gave Turbinia 19 ¾ knots. It was an advance but it could do better. More experiments were needed. Gerald Stoney, who took part in early trials with the Turbinia, said its reverse gear was imperfect. On one occasion they tried to turn about in the Tyne, they reached the side of the river but owing to the current could not go further round, and collided with a cargo steamer, The North Tyne. The Turbinia’s, sharp bow made an eighteen inch hole in the side of the ship Parsons and the crew did well with boat hooks, but the collision could not be avoided. The North Tyne put into dock for a new plate.

On another occasion when Lady Parsons and Miss Rachel were on board, the skipper sighted one of Armstrong’s twenty three knot vessels off the Tyne. They closed the Turbinia’s hatches and accelerating to twenty eight knots, overtook the vessel, leaving her far astern. She responded by a friendly blast from her whistle. One of the officers from Armstrong’s boat said that all they saw when the Turbinia, went past was a big wave, with a black bow emerging and a flame of fire shooting out from the middle. The bow wave of the Turbinia, swept the deck and all on board were drenched, including Miss Rachel, who stepped down into the forward stokehold to dry off with her brother.

There was a great deal of French interest in the Turbinia, and in 1900 the boat was an important part of the Paris exhibition [l15] . Arrangements were made to have speed runs on a wide part of the river Seine. Turbinia was taken there the day before the trial. The French Minister of Marine was there and small steamers from Rouen formed a lane, through which Turbinia sped, and the crowds cheered loudly. Later she proceeded to Le Havre. In the distance the Newhaven-Dieppe steamer was travelling towards England. Turbinia easily caught up with her and made circles round her, finally breaking off to make for Grimsby then the Tyne. The Paris trip took three weeks. The Turbinia’s success prompted Parsons to look towards expansion. Two further vessels Cobra and Viper were constructed both of which would unfortunately end in disaster. On August 3 1901, HMS Viper, fitted with Parsons turbines, floundered on Renouquet Island, near Alderney, and was a total wreck. On September 18 1901, HMS Cobra, fitted out exactly the same as her sister ship, broke in two off the Outer Dowsing Shoal, on the Lincolnshire coast. She was being navigated from the Tyne to Portsmouth.

There were many enquiries regarding the two ships and in December 1905 Parsons gave a lecture at Armstrong College, Newcastle. Although the Viper & Cobra, were lost through no fault of the turbines, he said it was apparent that the whole system was in danger of collapsing. This directly led to the building of the first turbine propelled merchant vessel, the King Edward, in the spring of 1900.[TH16]

After the Turbinia and its sister ships it was well known what Tyneside could do to provide propulsion for war vessels. Nearly every navy, in the world adopted Parsons’s turbines. The speed required by navies averaged twenty five knots. The Royal Navy required even faster ships than this which was not achievable without Parsons’s turbines. In 1906 the first turbine driven capital ship HMS Dreadnought was built. That year Cunard got Lusitania and Mauritania, fitted with 70,000 hp. turbines. The Royal Navy ordered battle ships like Dreadnought, Invincible, Inflexible and Indomitable in 1908, 1909 all with speeds of twenty six knots. In World War Two, HMS Hood built by John Brown and Co. and propelled by turbines of 150,000hp, reached speeds of thirty two knots.

However, it was inevitable that some of Parsons’s turbine fitted ships would come under attack and they did. The best known of these vessels are probably the Cunard liner Lusitania, torpedoed without warning by a German submarine on May 7 1915 with the loss of 1,198 lives, and HMS Hood, sunk on May 24 1941by the German pocket battleship Bismarck.

Although turbines were his passion, Parsons also found time to develop other interests. In 1906, two trumpet shaped objects appeared at the Queens Hall, London. These were for increasing the volume and richness of tone, mainly of stringed instruments, and they were on trial at the hall. Charles Parsons had earlier taken out patents in various sound recorders which improved over the years from the initial gramophone recorders. In one of the earlier types of Auxetophone, the gramophone needle was fixed into a socket formed integrally with the valve cover. The needle ran in the groove on the face of the ‘record’ disc. Parsons used the Edison counter-weight lever and sapphire stylus for picking up and transmitting sound waves. Auxetophone gramaphone concerts were given in towns throughout the country as well as in Australia and New Zealand. By 1909 the fame of the Auxetophone had increased. Musicians, and especially Sir Henry Wood, received it very well.

Parsons was also bent upon digging miles below the earth’s surface, where unknown treasures may be waiting to be discovered. One reason for his idea of extreme mining was that it could yield oil and coal that could not have been envisaged from moderate depth mines. Parsons consulted Mr. John Bell Simpson, the eminent authority of the times on mining in the north of England. The shaft was sunk in stages each about half a mile in depth. It was estimated that at the time it would cost £5,000,000 to bore to a depth of twelve miles. Simpson observed that

…it would be most interesting Geological investigation of National and Commercial importance; if workable seams at moderate depths could be proved it would add another 200 years to the Great Northern coalfields.

Parsons visited the Geothermal Power Plant of Larderrello,in Italy which was operated by the steam springs of Tuscany on the extreme northern border of the Maremma marshlands. Prince Ginori-Conti in July 1924, during the world power conference at Wembley, explained that these natural jets known as ‘Saffoni’ emit only steam, thereby differing from ordinary geysers that release steam and water. An engine successfully ran for fifteen years from this steam. Later three generating units were added using turbines. At a meeting of the Royal Society, at the time, Sir Charles proposed that the earth’s natural heat should be utilised by drilling a well of sufficient depth to reach high temperatures. The Prince said that Parsons idea had been implemented in their system in his country and was very effective.

Parsons was also greatly interested in astronomy and products related to the science, such as lenses for searchlights and other astronomical equipment. In 1882 Dr. Schott [TH18]joined forces with Abbe [TH19]in Jena in Prussia. They also became associated with Carl Zeiss (1816-1888) who, since 1846, had made scientific instruments in a factory at Jena. They came together to form a company. [l20] Schott and Abbe began experimenting on the improvements of lenses to obtain sharper definition, equal central and marginal magnification and absence of colour fringes, together with a maximum intensity of transmitted light. Their activities at Jena during the World War were amazing. They employed more than 10,000 people. Their findings caused Parsons much anxiety as he saw England dropping behind more experienced countries in the manufacture of optical glass. It had been estimated that prior to 1914 Jena produced about 60% of the Worlds optical glass, Paris 30% and Birmingham the remainder. In 1917-1918, Wood Brothers Glass Company of Barnsley had been asked to supply optical glass for the War Office and the Admiralty and the Ministry for Munitions

After 1920 the business was imperilled and it looked certain for collapse. Parson intervened acquired the shares, paid off all of the creditors, and allowed funds for cash flow, so that the company could continue. Charles knew he would have no financial gain whatsoever, but he was determined to save the company, as he knew that the industry was necessary for the scientific and industrial welfare of his country. By June 30 1929, the capital contributed by him for the project was £57,000. Later England perfected the art of optical glass manufacture and due to his perseverance, when all seemed lost, this industry was able to hold its own. Because of his father’s interest in astronomy and his own interest in lenses, Parsons was able to foresee this problem, and with his financial strength was able to avert a very serious catastrophe for England.

Parsons never had one day of poverty in his life. He was always a very active man; when he could he cycled to work. He rarely consulted a doctor but for others he would insist on the best specialists possible and any aids to make life tolerable. Most of his time was spent at his works office than anywhere else. He was slightly deaf and at times seemed deep in thought, but any visitors received a warm, even overwhelming, welcome.

Parsons always considered the future not the past. On November 6 1902, he received from Sir Michael Foster, the secretary of the Royal Society, the Rumford medal for his invention of the turbine and its extension into navigation. On March 5 1910, when he was living at Holeyn Hall, Wylam on Tyne, he was appointed Sheriff of the County of Northumberland. On June 10 1911, he was appointed a Knight Commander of the Bath, just prior to the Coronation and on September 13 1915, he was made chairman of the Tyne & Wear Board of Management under the Ministry of Munitions.

Parsons was a keen fisherman. He enjoyed trout fishing either in lochs or rivers; he always remembered that his best catch was at Lord Armstrong’s home. They were catching one after the other, forgetting that it was the first day of September [l21] when a water bailiff approached them telling them he was confiscating the fish and their rods as they were fishing illegally. Lord Armstrong intervened and the bailiff let them go. Meanwhile, Lady Armstrong was waiting to cook the trout that never arrived.

Like everyone else Charles Parsons had downturns in life. When he heard about the Cobra disaster he locked himself in his office and stayed there all day long. 1918 brought him sorrow beyond belief when he was informed about the death of his son, Algernon, killed in action on April 26 1918, in France. Algernon had been at the Front with the British Expeditionary Force in France from November 13 1914 until his death. His army career is too vast and illustrious to list in a small work such as this. His body is buried at Lijssenthoek Military Cemetery in Belgium, Plot 28, Row C, Grave 4. Charles’ss daughter, Rachel, was a godsend to Charles over this period. She had been educated at Roedean and at Newnham College Cambridge,where she studied mechanical science, entering Heaton Works when her brother went to do his duty in France. She competently filled the role of directorship of the works. From 1922-1925 she served as a member of London County Council and she had the distinction of being one of the three woman members of the Institute of Naval Architects.

Parsons was a sincere man, always having an air of refinement about him; he greeted friends warmly and with a smile although his handshake was curiously limp. A good conversationalist, he was also a good listener. Parsons loved the sea, being ever in the engine room or on the bridge. On cruises, he visited Canada, South America and the West Indies.

In January 1931 he and Lady Parsons travelled to the West Indies on board the Duchess of Richmond and then on to Venezuela going by car to Caracas where he fell ill. It was thought that the climate did not agree with him. He returned to the ship and spent the following day in his bunk thinking that he had a customary chill. There was apparently some problem with his circulation, but it was thought that it would improve with rest. Sadly, in Kingston Harbour on February 11 1931, as the sun was setting, Charles Parsons slipped silently away.

John Smeaton was making important discoveries very early on in the Industrial Revolution. He was born in 1724 at Austhorpe Lodge, near Leeds, the son of William Smeaton, a very eminent and prosperous lawyer, who never thought for a moment that his son John would become a great engineer, a builder of lighthouses, bridges, canals, and harbours and eventually a Fellow of the Royal Society.

William Smeaton wished his son to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer, an occupation that had provided him with a very prosperous life. The difference between John Smeaton and those who followed him like Stephenson, Brunel, Telford, Fairbairn, Rennie and Brindley, was that they had a constant struggle with adversity, having to educate themselves, and scraping by, earning money even to nourish themselves. Brindley, for instance, was more or less illiterate all his life. Whereas Smeaton was different, having education and finance at his disposal, all he had to do was to overcome the pressures put on him by his father to become a lawyer.

Austhorpe was a beautiful house, built by Smeaton’s grandfather in the parish of Whitkirk and where John Smeaton was born on June 8 1724. A brother born in 1727 died at five years and a sister born five years later survived for only one year, making John an only child .There were no other children where John grew up, consequently he acquired many older people’s habits. From a young age he designed and made things. As early as six years old he studied a local windmill then constructed a smaller version of his own, climbing to the top of his father’s barn so it got the maximum wind in its sails. Machinery fascinated John.

William Smeaton eventually gave in to his son’s obsession, thinking that if the boy was so keen on engineering he should have a workshop and every tool imaginable to further his interest. John used the tools to great effect, making other and better tools for all kinds of uses and complicated functions. He was given tuition in reading and writing and showed an interest in mathematics from an early age. When he was old enough, he attended Leeds Grammar School where it was found he had a natural aptitude for mathematics, in particular geometry. He was also very good at drawing. When he was sixteen John left school. Knowing fully that his father wished that he followed him in the family legal business he eventually joined the firm, although his love for mechanics and engineering far outweighed his interest in the legal profession.

There was a coal mine very near to the Smeaton home, at Garforth, and it was here that John Smeaton first saw a steam engine. One of the main problems with early coal mining was that after rain most of the mine would be flooded .At about this time Thomas Newcomen invented a primitive steam engine for this purpose of [l1] ……… This engine attracted John’s interest. He sketched it from every angle, then went home, and produced a working model of the engine. To test the capabilities of the machine he tried it on his father’s fish pond. It did so well it killed all of his father’s fish! William Smeaton was not amused, but marvelled at his son’s genius in constructing the engine just on sight.

Solely to please his father John attended the office in Leeds, where his tasks were mainly copying legal documents and learning general law. In the evenings he worked until late at night in his workshop. His father began to feel that John would never learn law in Leeds so arranged for him to go to London where he could attend the courts at Westminster Hall – well away from his workshop.

John Smeaton left for London in the autumn of 1742. He loved his father tremendously and no one could say that he didn’t give his father’s profession a try, working hard in legal circles during the day. But in his own time in the evenings, he attended libraries, reading endlessly on the subjects that interested him – mostly mechanics. Smeaton missed his workshop so much that he wrote a well-presented letter to his father informing him that he wished to give up law and follow a career as a mechanical engineer. William Smeaton showed that he was a reasonable man and that he also loved his son. He admired the way his son had tried in London and, though disappointed, gave him permission to follow his own interests. He also awarded him a very generous allowance which carried on for the rest of John’s life. William Smeaton played a very important part in furthering his son’s career. Without his help John Smeaton might never have achieved the marvels he did.

John was overjoyed at his father’s support, quickly resigned his lawyer’s position and entered the service of an instrument- maker to learn the trade. He also began to attend meetings of the Royal Society and through it met many famous scientists. As early as July 26 1750, Smeaton read his first paper to the Society, in which he described improvements to the mariner’s compass. In 1751, he invented an instrument for measuring the speed of ships at sea. Other papers read to the Royal Society included one on air pumps, another one on pulleys and tackle and yet another on steam engines.

In 1754, when he was thirty, Smeaton was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, a high distinction for one so young and an indication of the esteem other members held him in. This was also the year that he began learning French, mainly to read French books on mechanics

Smeaton also began to take a keen interest in the civil engineering of docks, canals, harbours and drainage and navigation safety. Belgium and Holland were more advanced than England in these fields, so, John travelled cheaply on foot and by canal barge, noting and sketching Dutch dykes and canal systems. He thought the docks and harbours of Amsterdam were amazing. In London, ships had to wait for the tides to go alongside the wharf and set out to sea In Amsterdam the tides could be ignored; the docks were kept full by means of locks. The notes and sketches Smeaton made were of immense use, not only to himself but also to the country in general and he used these effectively later in his career.

John always had a great respect for the sea, realising that dock and sea walls had to be constructed with great strength to withstand storms, tides and the enormous power of the sea. This appreciation was to be vital to the success of what is undoubtedly his greatest achievement, the construction of the Eddystone Lighthouse.

If you look at a map of the English Channel and draw a line between The Lizard in Cornwall and Start Point in west Devon, it will pass very near to the infamous reef known as the Eddystone Rock. Most of it lies some twelve to fourteen feet below water at low tide and it is covered completely at spring tides. The Eddystone Reef lies across the course of channel shipping, especially those ships heading for Plymouth. It was responsible for the wreck of hundreds of ships with valuable cargoes, not to mention the lives of thousands of seamen. .A lighthouse had been built on the rock as early as 1698. Prior to this, ship owners could only place warning lights on the nearest cliffs, scarcely a reliable method. Lighthouse-owners could collect dues from the passing shipping; it was a lucrative business which first attracted the attention of a colourful character called Henry Winstanley, nicknamed ‘Whimsical’ because of his love of practical jokes. Henry was granted permission to build what was thought to be impossible, a lighthouse on Eddystone itself. However, he defied the sceptics; his lighthouse, completed in 1698 and built of wood and iron and reaching seventy feet high, was regarded as a wonder until it blew down in great storm on November 23 1703.

The second Eddystone Light appreared in 1709, designed by John Rudyard, a Cornishman who owned a silk shop on Ludgate Hill. This lighthouse was made of wood but, unlike Winstanley’s, was conical in shape and offered more resistance to the waves. It was built of stout timbers, like ocean-going vessels and withstood storms and buffeting for fort six years, when it suddenly burnt down on 2 December 1755. How the fire started was not clear. A team of keepers worked in shifts too renew the candles used to produce the light. It was thought that the heat from the candles had caused the wooden roof area to become completely dry and combustible. A boat was put to sea to rescue the three keepers. On reaching the shore one of the keepers took to his heels and was never seen again. Another, an old man of ninety-four, insisted that, as he had looked up at the flames in the roof, some molten rock had poured down his throat. Fourteen days later he died, a flat piece of lead weighing seven ounces was found in his stomach.

Mr. Weston [TH2], mainly to collect the dues, financed the building of a new lighthouse which he wished to be re-built quickly. His first enquiry was made to the president of the Royal Society, the Earl of Macclesfield who strongly recommended John Smeaton for his great knowledge of mechanics and his record of high quality work. The Earl’s recommendation was good enough for Weston who sent a message to Smeaton, who was working in Scotland at the time, insisting he build the lighthouse. The message took a month to reach Smeaton. Thinking it was a re-build job he wasn’t very keen. However, on finding he was to build a completely new lighthouse, he took up the challenge and hurried back to London.

.Smeaton set to work studying the problem of the third lighthouse. He made a lengthy study of the previous ones then decided that this one would be built of stone, a thing no one thought possible He studied the London curb-stones, which, because they were interlocked with each other, never moved and decided to dove-tail his stone accordingly. The base of the building would be weighed down with heavy rocks. No stone would be able to move on its own; each would be firmly held by every other one. Smeaton experimented with cement until he found one that set quickly and was not affected by salt. He then made a complete drawing of the building even before going to see the Eddystone Reef.

It was March 1756 Smeaton set out for Plymouth from London the journey took him six days. In Plymouth, he called to see Josiah Jessup, a foreman shipwright Jessup doubted that it was possible to build the lighthouse of stone but agreed that if it could be done, stone would withstand the greatest of storms. Jessup later gave Smeaton much help with his construction.

Due to strong winds around the channel, it was not until April that John attempted a visit to the Reef. The breakers were battering right over the rock and it was impossible to land due to the ferocity of the sea. Three days later he returned and this time managed to land, staying for two hours. On three other occasions he tried to get back on but found it impossible until the weather changed, when he was finally able to take measurements and make sketches. One evening, he worked by candlelight until 9pm. Eventually he had a working knowledge of every inch of the Reef.

Back in Plymouth at a place called Mill Bay, Smeaton started shaping and storing his stones. He directed the making of a modification to the landing area on the rock, and then set out for London to report to his employer Weston. When he arrived Smeaton constructed an exact model of the proposed lighthouse, making adjustments as he went along. When he showed it to Weston and the Lords of the Admiralty, all were completely satisfied. Smeaton again set off for Plymouth, on the way ordering the Portland stone that would construct the lighthouse. He engaged workmen, hired transport to and from Eddystone, and finally, bought all the provisions and tools; Josiah Jessup was appointed his first assistant.

On the August 31 1756, Smeaton began work. Landing again on the rock, he marked out the centre of the lighthouse. Some days, because of the tide, no work could be done. On other days they managed about six hours, cutting a base into the hard rock where the Portland stone would fit. All had to be done quickly by hand- hammer and chisel, before the start of winter. It was hard work but the dovetails had to be completed exactly. These would be vital to the strength of the base. By November they had completed the first phase and returned to Plymouth. It took them four days and many on the shore thought they were lost, as an almighty gale had blown them as far as the Bay of Biscay It took tremendous courage and seamanship to get back to Plymouth. The rest of the winter was spent at Mill Bay, dressing the rest of the Portland stones to the exact size. Each one weighed upwards of two tons. Over the winter four hundred and fifty tons of stone was cut to size and fitted into the next, as they would be on Eddystone. Finally, each stone was numbered, ready for transportation to the rock.

On the June 12 1757 the first stone was laid on the rock. It weighed two and a quarter ton. Next day the first course of four stones was laid, taking into account the slope of the reef .The subsequent courses allowed for this, the second course having thirteen stones while the third had twenty-five and so on. Eventually a perfect, circular course was completed containing sixty one stones. Work progressed well because of Smeaton’s planning, especially in the stone yard where every stone was first tried in sequence then, within that sequence, transported to the rock, and cemented after fitting within the dovetails. Two holes were bored in each stone and oak tree nails driven to the stone below, nothing being left to chance. After six courses, there was a level platform above the waves.

One day when Smeaton was testing the platform he fell over on to the rocks, painfully dislocating his thumb. He bravely jerked the thumb back into place, there being no medical help, then carried on with the work as if nothing had happened. Nine courses were laid before winter 1757. Before returning to Plymouth a converted boat was left to shine a warning to shipping which more often than not had to seek shelter because of storms. The weather was a good test for the part - finished lighthouse.

It wasn’t possible to get to the rock until May 12 1758. Smeaton and his men found the building had not moved even a fraction of an inch and the cement had set completely. By September, twenty four courses were finished, bringing the height to thirty-five feet. The base being complete they started on the walls of the storeroom and living area which were twenty six inches thick. That particular winter was a good one and before retiring they had completed the lower storeroom up to the roof on which they put a temporary cover. The following year, 1759, was very stormy and they did not get to the rock until July 5. By August, the masonry was finished: there were forty-six courses of stones, and the height was seventy feet. The iron work, balcony and lantern came next, ending with the fitting of a gilt ball to crown the whole edifice – which Smeaton fixed himself. He did not leave until everything was complete, including the windows which he fixed himself.

Ninety years later, in 1848, the Harbourmaster of Plymouth making an annual inspection of the lighthouse found it had leaned one quarter of an inch towards the northeast. Feeling apprehensive that even a quarter of an inch from the perpendicular was important, he referred to Smeaton’s journal of 1759 and found the following entry:

This day the Eddystone Lighthouse has thank God been completed, it is I believe perfect, except that it inclines a quarter of an inch from the perpendicular to the north east.

Ninety years after Smeaton had completed the lighthouse, it was still standing, as he built it, as a tribute to his skills.

In 1877 it was found that the Reef had been affected by erosion and seawater. Accordingly another tower had to be built 120 feet away which was completed in 1882. Smeaton’s tower was taken down stone by stone and re-erected on Plymouth Hoe. The solid stone base still stands on the rock, unaffected by weather and the strong waves of the Channel.

John Smeaton was awarded the Royal Society’s gold medal (the highest award possible) in 1759. He built forty improved water mills and four windmills in various parts of England, as well as four bridges, three of them in Perth, seven- arch bridges at Coldstream and Banff and one at Hexham in the north of England, the latter being his only failure [TH4]. Later in his life he wrote extensively about his work, the main piece [TH5]being The Eddystone Lighthouse. His drawings of the lighthouse are exquisite.

Like most people who put work before health, Smeaton was afflicted with stomach ulcers which may have contributed to his stroke [TH6]. What is certain about John Smeaton is that over the many years that Eddysone Lighthouse stood on the rock, it saved thousands of lives. Now standing on Plymouth Hoe it is a tribute to a great engineer [l7] .

George Hudson

1800 -1871

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N December 30 1833, a group of tradesmen met in Tomlinson’s hotel in York. Amongst them were solicitors, owners of small businesses, and small shopkeepers. The Sheriff of York, a coal merchant named Meek, chaired the meeting. The Liverpool to Manchester Railway had recently been shown to be a complete success and now South Yorkshire coal owners had come together to discuss building a railway line from Leeds to Selby, with the possibility of proceeding as far as Hull. It was hoped that in a short time south Yorkshire coal could be transported cheaply and swiftly to the south of England. This meeting was the beginning of George Hudson’s amazing quest to develop the railways in the north of England.

Hudson was a linen draper of College Street, York. His beginnings were rather obscure, but by his own exertions he became a millionaire. He provided the whole of the north of England with railways which were carefully planned, built quickly and supplied work for thousands of men. Both he and his friends became very rich, though later the methods he used to raise money for the projects would be questioned. However, all the railways he built where successful and Hudson became known as the ‘Railway King’.

George Hudson was the son of a prosperous yeoman farmer from the tiny village of Derwant which lies between York and Malton. George was his father’s fifth son, born in 1800. His father, who had intended him to be a farmer, died when George was nine leaving him to make his way in the world as best he could.

George left school at fifteen [TH1] , and was bound apprentice in William Bell’s linen shop in College Street, York. In 1821 he married a solicitor’s daughter, Elizabeth Nicholson, who occasionally worked in the shop where the couple also lived. When William Bell retired he re-named the business Nicholson and Hudson. Later in his life, Hudson said that the days at the shop were the happiest of his life, running a business with an annual turnover of £3,000 - a quarter of which was profit.

In 1827, however, something happened which would change Hudson’s life, bringing him extreme wealth but eventually financial ruin. Hudson’s rich great-uncle, Matthew Bottrill, died, leaving most of his fortune of £30,000 to his nephew George. Bottrill had made the will on his deathbed where Hudson had been assiduous in attendance on the old man in his final hours. The will was not contested and Hudson became one of the richest men in York, using his legacy to invest in North Midland railway. He later said that acquiring this money was the worst thing that could have happened to him because it led him to the railways and eventual ruin.

The shop gradually disappeared into the background and Hudson rose in society as a member of the Conservative party. Cholera was rife in and around York at this time and Hudson served on the local Health Board, where he made a name for himself. During the autumn of 1832 he stood as Conservative candidate in the council elections, progressing from organiser to treasurer of the party. At the same time, Hudson became interested in banking and formed the York Union Banking Company, which began trading in 1833 with a capital of half a million pounds. Deposits were forthcoming from Sir John Lowther [TH2] and other wealthy men and the company began trading with Glyns, a London bank the chairman of which was also chairman and chief promoter of the London to Birmingham Railway. Hudson’s bank would soon play a major role in the financing of railway companies.

At the meeting at Tomlinson’s Hotel at the end of 1833, Hudson was appointed treasurer of the Railway Committee [TH3] . The committee would undertake the development of a railway to link York with towns in West Riding. Hudson bought up most of the shares offered for the York to Leeds Railway and secured a famous engineer, Rennie, [TH4] to survey the line. His report was ready in early 1834. Rennie actually proposed the use of horses, on the grounds of economy! Hudson visited Whitby later that year where he met George Stephenson. By this time Stephenson had been successful in designing two railways [TH5] which were both doing well. Stephenson and Hudson struck up a formidable friendship which lasted throughout both men’s lives.

Around this time, there was a lull in the progress of the railways in the north so Hudson took the opportunity to advance his political career. In 1834 the first reformed parliament was dissolved and there was a general election. With help from financial deposits from Sir John Lowther and the York Union Bank and also from James Richardson, the Conservative agent, Hudson supported Sir John for one of the York seats [TH6] in the election; £2,000 being spent on the poll and a further £1,000 to reward ‘those that voted Tory’. The seat was secured despite objections to the bribery used by the Conservatives in securing it In August 1835 Hudson and over sixty prominent citizens were summoned to London to testify before a Commons Committee on Election Petitions. Hudson, as party treasurer, was cross-examined for two whole days and forced to make a number of damaging admissions: the Conservatives had been guilty of gross bribery, but Hudson, although guilty of impropriety with funds, was welcomed home a hero and a true blue.

During the autumn of 1835 there was a public meeting in Doncaster with a deputation headed by its richest citizen, Edmund Becket Denison, to beg Hudson to build a railway to Doncaster. Hudson decided to be guided by Stephenson, who advised the use of engines rather than the horses Rennie had recommended. Stephenson’s plan was to put in two railways right through the midlands, one from Derby via the hilly country to Leeds, to be called The North Midland Railway, and one from Rugby to Derby called The Midlands County Railway. He had secured the agreement of the Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire coal owners, as well as a group of capitalists from Liverpool, so success was virtually guaranteed. Hudson had already made his own promises to link Leeds [TH7] to London and begged Stephenson to make the terminus of the North Midland line at York rather than Leeds: ‘Mak all t’railways cum t’ York’, he pleaded. But Stephenson, thinking of fixed gradients on his lines, refused to change his original plans. Hudson thought up a clever variation of his original plan: the York line should connect with Stephenson’s line at Normanton. This was common sense and it meant that they could also enlist Stephenson as engineer and use his prestige to raise capital.

The plan quickly took shape. The new line was called The North Midland Railway. Hudson’s strategy proved sound. A group of Quakers who had originally been involved in the Stockton and Darlington Railway had proposed a line from Newcastle to York, be called the Great North of England Railway and the two groups agreed to collaborate. Hudson wholeheartedly took the lead and the committee was transformed into the North Midland Railway Company with Hudson as treasurer, James Richardson as solicitor and one of Stephenson’s assistants as engineer. A survey of the line was carried out and the bill drafted for introduction to parliament. £300,000 capital had to be raised. There were few investors from York but a group of London capitalists added their weight and by 1836 the £50 shares began to sell. The York MPs, including Lowther, ensured an easy passage for the bill. By August 1836 the new committee was able to hold its first formal meeting, register the shares and elect a board of directors. Sir John Simpson, the Lord Mayor of London topped the poll. Hudson, beaten by a single vote was second. James Richardson, Alderman Meek Robert Davies the Town Clerk and Richard Nicholson, Hudson’s brother-in-law were all elected. Later Hudson was chosen as chairman and his friend George Baker became secretary.

It was early in September when Stephenson staked out the first few miles of the new line, saying that it would be completed in eighteen months; he was however, proved to be over optimistic. In order to speed the bill through the House of Lords, Hudson had made an offer [l8] to Lord Howden, who owned some of the land en-route. Later Hudson attempted to get out of the deal but after litigation, Howden was paid £5,000 by the committee. Hudson had overreached himself.

In April 1837 Hudson set the contractors to work on the line, which was due to run from York, and across the Leeds-Selby line at South Milford at Altofts. The contractors imported Irish navvies. The company’s stock rose together with Hudson’s prestige in York. Stephenson had promised that the line would be the cheapest yet constructed and actually invested £20,000 of his own money in shares. He encouraged his friends to do the same. The Quakers in York were a little suspicious of Hudson, but still invested their money, mainly because of their confidence in Stephenson. York City Council gave permission for a tunnel under the city with space for a station.

In April 1839 the first engine arrived from Stephenson’s factory in Newcastle and was christened the Lowther. It was decided to have the opening ceremony on May 29, when all York celebrated the occasion. The Minster bells rang and everywhere in York there were signs of merrymaking. A large crowd of distinguished guests consumed early morning breakfast, then, after a short speech by Hudson, four hundred passengers packed themselves into nineteen carriages serviced by two engines and made the journey to South Milford. Resplendent in his glory was Hudson, with Stephenson at his right side. A long round of speeches and toasts followed. Robert Stephenson’s health was toasted the crowd streamed back to the state-room of the Mansion House, where the mayor led the dancing which lasted until four in the morning.

The opening of the York railway was indeed a huge achievement. Hudson’s prestige was at an all-time high but in both politics and business he had made many enemies, The Quaker businessmen in particular did not trust him. But the Great North of England Railway Company did not prosper. The company engineer had not constructed adequate bridges and Robert Stephenson had to come to the rescue. In fact Stephenson became their engineer, but on his own terms, one condition being that the company drop all thought of proceeding further with the northern half of the project between Darlington and Newcastle.

On February 26 1841 there was a half yearly meeting of the North Midland Railway Company. Hudson was nominated for election to the board of directors but declined the offer. He was too interested in the Great North of England Railway and the Newcastle to Darlington route. People wondered at the time why the North Midland, with Stephenson as engineer fared so badly against Hudson’s line. In hindsight the answer is clear to see: the company had paid far too much for their land whereas Hudson had not.

In September 1843 Hudson succeeded in a triple amalgamation of the Midlands railways. People were now realising how astute a businessman Hudson was. The people of York were fully aware of this and had nicknamed him ‘Gumsher Hudson’[TH9] , while in London he was called ‘The Yorkshire Balloon’ [TH10] ‘Jupiter’ and even ‘The Railway Napoleon’. And a journalist for The Railway Times wrote,[TH11] ‘I consider Hudson to be a shrewd and honest man’ and compared his power to that of the Prime Minister, William Gladstone.

After the hard- won victories at the Midland meetings in August and September a lesser man would have taken a holiday – but not George Hudson. He and Robert Stephenson bought the Durham Junction Line in late autumn 1843, for less than its original cost of construction. The next project was extending the line to Newcastle and then to Berwick. Finance was forthcoming from the shareholders of the Darlington-Newcastle line. But an obstacle stood in their way: the river Tyne.

Until 1843 the line ran only as far as Gateshead, on the south bank of the Tyne. George Stephenson devised a scheme for a great bridge at a high level across the river from Gateshead to Newcastle. The project was priced at £100,000. The High Level Bridge over the Tyne and the Berwick Railway progressed slowly. Rivalry was developing between the York and North Midland and the Hull and Selby Railways. North of York there was towns [TH12] with undeveloped docks; Hudson imagined the cargoes of coal and iron ore entering these docks. He also wished to build a line of watering places between Hull and Hartlepool by connecting up Filey and Bridlington with Scarborough, via a coastal railway line. This brought Hudson into conflict with the Selby and Hull railway companies who naturally thought it was their territory. The directors could not sustain a fight with Hudson unaided, and tended to stick close to the Manchester -Leeds Railway Company, who were also hostile to the York and North Midland Company; sooner or later there would be a mighty conflict up and down eastern England.

Rumours of Hudson buying the Great North of England Railway were rife in the autumn of 1844, but it wasn’t until May 1845 that Hudson made his move. The company was invited to lease their line to Hudson’s group of companies for five years at a guaranteed 10% on all their shares. Thereafter, the Newcastle and Darlington Junction Company would buy the whole line out at the rate of £250 for every £100 share. The Great North of England shareholders would be paid off in 4% stock, continuing to receive 10% in perpetuity on their existing capital. They stood to make an enormous profit.

Total capital so far [l13] extended on the line [l14] was £1,300,000 and it would take a further £344,000,000 of new capital to purchase it [l15] . The total income of the line to date was only £75,000 a year, yet the guaranteed rent he promised was £109,000 a year until 1847, and even more after that. In 1846, Hudson admitted in evidence before a Parliamentary Committee that he had paid more than market price for the line. He justified this by having more efficient management between York and Berwick; he then reduced prices on the line gaining public goodwill. Hudson added that he had no personal interest in the purchase, not holding a single share in the Great North of England at the time of its purchase. He maintained that his interest really lay in raising shares in order to pay for the purchases.

About this time [l16] Hudson raised a testimonial subscription for George Stephenson in the form of a plate and the erection of a statue on the projected High Level Bridge over the Tyne. Since Hudson was closely connected with these projects, two testimonials were planned. One story, advocated by Bridges Adams [TH17] tells how Hudson drafted the appeal for his own testimonial, drawing up a list of subscribers with large sums next to their names, including contractors and engineers. He then instructed his secretary to send the list to the press in the hope that those people now publicly named, would not refuse to support his testimonial. He then requested all of the donations to be paid directly to his bankers. George Stephenson denounced this procedure, saying that he intended writing a letter of refusal to the press, but other directors convinced him that this might affect the railway shares so he backed down.

Hudson travelled south to [TH18] Westminster to monitor progress with the Railway Bill. On July 11th Lord Brougham complained that Hudson was working with a twelve Counsel power before the committee on the London to York Line with obstructive purposes, and that he had interfered with the committee. The merits of the London- York bill had now being argued ad nauseam and the committee’s duties were finishing. Speculation in company shares was rife. On July 23, with the casting votes of the chairman the Railways Bill was approved. When the Bill had passed the standing - order stage in the House of Lords without challenge, it was found that a lot of the names and addresses of share-holders were fictitious. A petition to enquire into allegations of forgery was mounted, but the bill still passed its third reading.

Later the charge was found to have been well grounded. At the very last stage of the Bill, the Lords Committee recommended that it should proceed no further until further investigations could be made. The seventy-day committee, the counsel, witnesses and promoters in parliament, together with outside speculators, found that the veto had fallen. The Midlands Railway was safe for another year when it could consolidate the east of England with its own railway system.

[l19]

In 1845 a series of celebrations took place throughout the east of England [l20] . On August 16, a reception at York Station was held. The [TH21] Lord Mayor, Sheriff, with the Dean of York attending. The Minster bells were rung, cannons fired and deafening cheers and music welcomed the Railway King. After celebrations at Whitby, came Sunderland where there was a Conservative Banquet on October 21. For years businessmen had striven to increase the importance of Sunderland as a port, but had not succeeded – now Hudson was doing it in no time at all.

However, the London - York Railway Bill still haunted Hudson. The York and North Midland Railway Company was charged with £30,000 and The Midland Railway Company £50,000 as their share of the costs [l22] . The Bill’s passage through the Commons was assured if there were no changes. Hudson proposed to create a north -south line of his own. To do this he would have to move south to London. He therefore took on the chairmanship of the Eastern Counties Railway. This railway was 150 miles long, one of the longest in the country and carried more goods than passengers but it was badly managed although it had a London terminus. Three million pounds had been spent on the line with only a return dividend of 1% in July 1845.

Prior to moving to London, Hudson bought the Durham and Sunderland Railway for £270,000, double the market value as well as building a new dock for £200,000 at Jarrow Slake on the Tyne. Hudson also leased to the Newcastle and Darlington Company and the Hartlepool Dock and Railway Company, which linked the town with the main line [l23] . The Times declared Hudson had secured almost entire command of the northern railways in the county of Durham.

It was said that one of the major blunders of Hudson’s career was his chairmanship of the Eastern Counties Railway for which it was thought impossible to make a profit. Strategically the Eastern Counties Railway was an unusual partner for the Midland and York and the North Midland Railways. Because of the alliance, Hudson’s companies were vulnerable and hard to knit together. By the end of 1843, railway mania increased and engineers such as Brunel, Locke, Rennie, and Vignobles were in great demand. George Stephenson was now retired and living at Tapton House but his son, Robert, was connected with thirty-four separate lines and Hudson often called at Stephenson’s offices at 24 Great George Street, Westminster. The demand for labour of all kinds increased. The price of iron doubled. Solicitors, stockbrokers and estate agents were all in demand; 16,00 people ranging from bankers to clergymen had bought railway shares of £2,000 [TH24] . Even such unlikely figures as Emily and Ann Bronte invested small amounts. Their more famous sister Charlotte failed to persuade them to sell when the,market was high and they lost their money in the slump [TH25] . George Stephenson said, from his retirement at Tapton, that Hudson had became too great for him. Stephenson had made Hudson a rich man but he would soon care for nobody unless they could make him money.

The amalgamation of the lines north of York was accomplished in two stages; the first of these was the ratification by parliament [TH26] of the purchase of the Great North of England Railway by the Newcastle and Darlington Junction Company, which was renamed the York and Newcastle Railway in September 1846; 159,000 new shares at £25 each were issued, making the new company £6,625,000. Hudson made a pledge to buy out every holder of shares worth £100 in the Great North of England, for £250 before 1851, so confident was he of success.

On July 5 1847, the young Queen Victoria and Prince Albert her consort travelled on the Eastern Counties Railway to Cambridge where they attended the installation of the Chancellor of the University. Hudson seized the opportunity to put on a flamboyant display. A special train was fitted out for the occasion. The Queen appeared in a transparent cottage bonnet and peach-blossom satin dress. She bade Mr. Hudson good-morning whereupon he guided her into a pavilion filled with elegantly dressed women. From there he escorted her to the royal carriage and presented her with a beautifully executed map of the line and illuminated copies of the timetable of the royal train. The carriage was coloured white and gold outside. The linings and furniture were of French grey satin. The roof was fluted with the same material and the carriage hung with the fairest and freshest favours of flora. [TH27] On arrival at Cambridge, Hudson leapt out and quickly opened the royal carriage door. The Queen took his arm and he escorted her into the pavilion, preceded by the Earl Marshall, the Duke of Norfolk. Later, Prince Albert, conveyed Her Majesty’s satisfaction in her comfort and well-being to Hudson

Hudson’s calculations about the success of the enterprise [l28] were made on the expectation that the year 1847 would turn out to be the worst year of the trade depression. He thought that after a slump, trade would revive and prosperity would follow. However, revolution and riot were rife throughout Europe and like most of the population, he had not anticipated the political upheavals of 1848. Anxiety affected his health and in April of that year Hudson was confined to bed with a digestive problem, which later affected his heart and caused attacks of angina

May 1848, Robert Davies retired after completing twenty years as Town Clerk of York. Hudson missed his old friend whom he could trust to guide the machinery of local government. Between August and September of 1848, Hudson had to repay £400,000 that he had borrowed from banks on behalf of his various companies. He managed this, but it left his reserves seriously deflated and future dividends were in jeopardy. Rumours leaked about the massive repayment, causing panic throughout Hudson’s shareholders. By October 27 the York and North Midland £50 share had fallen from £62 to £46, the York Newcastle and Berwick £25 share from £30 to £23, the Midland £100 stock from £93 to £73, the Eastern Counties £20 shares to just over £12. Railway stock throughout the country was also affected. Hudson again suffered with digestive problems and his financial statements were delayed until November 14. For the moment the shares were checked but there was an obvious storm brewing and investors settled down to await the next set of accounts.

The Stockton and Darlington Railway Company had rather declined from its original glory and the directors wished Hudson to place it in his [l29] care which he agreed to do in November 1848. A notice appeared in the press [TH30] that the line was to be leased to the York, Newcastle and Berwick Company at a guarantee of 9% on capital. The North British Railway had also changed their minds and approached Hudson, but now conditions were different, and Hudson could not raise the capital necessary [l31] . The ‘Railway King’ had spent enormous amounts on his four northern railway companies. Approximately £30,000,000 went to guaranteed dividends on leases and shareholders. Now no more capital was forthcoming from any source. Each of the four half-yearly meetings in 1849 spelt trouble for Hudson. He had lent £150,000 of the shareholders money to the Sunderland Dock Company without parliamentary sanction. He also had trouble with the strangulation of Hull shipping by the Danish blockade [TH32] . In January there was a rumour of his impending resignation. Matters went from bad to worse when on August 12 1848, George Stephenson died aged 68. Stephenson had been associated with Hudson since the railway mania had started in 1835, but he had lived more or less in retirement since 1845. The passing of Stephenson proved an ill omen. Hudson was put further and further under pressure, as one after the other of his financial discrepancies surfaced. His accounts were a shambles, with dates and times of transactions missing; James Richardson and Robert Davies [TH33] had signed any cheque laid before them.

Eventually the Prance report [TH34] was published which blasted any good name that Hudson had left. Many wished the ‘Railway Kin’g to be prosecuted for the violation of the Companies Act. The press was very hostile. ‘Mr. Hudson will not escape us’ and ‘Mr. Hudson has duped thousands’ were some of the comments. Hudson was dragged in front of a tribunal of the Eastern [l35] Counties Railway, where Mr. Cash [TH36] , the chairman questioned him relentlessly: ‘Didst thou ever, after the accountant had made up the yearly accounts, alter any of the figures?’ asked the Quaker Cash, to which Hudson replied, very subdued and after hesitation, ‘Well, I may have perhaps added a thousand or two to the next accounts.’ ‘Didst thou alter the accounts to say £10,000 or even £40,000?’ the chairman added. Hudson replied nervously, ‘Maybe not as much as that.’ Cash ultimately did not press the point, but decreed ‘…thou should go home and write down these amounts’, much to Hudson’s relief.

Out of £545,714 distributed in dividends from 4 January 1845, to 4 July 1848, £115,278 was procured by the alteration of traffic accounts [TH37] , and £205,294 by wrongly charging capital accounts, making a total of £320,572, which was not subject to dividends. Out of £545,714 only £225,142 had been earned and therefore subject to dividends. The Observer recorded at this time that for four years £13,000,000, had been at the disposal of Hudson and Waddington [l38] to do with as they chose, making and unmaking dividends, acquiring traffic capital and revenue, pocketing cheques with no authority, re-directing sums to their own accounts and even charging hotel bills to the company. Hudson’s friends at Sunderland rallied loyally behind him, but to no avail. On May 4 [TH39] he sent a letter of resignation [TH40] .His brother-in-law, Richard Nicholson, was also implicated by The Prance Report and on the night of May 8 [l41] he left his house at Clifton and walked along the bank of the Ouse to Marygate and was never seen alive again. His body was recovered from the river the following day.

The news reached Hudson at Newby Park where he was struck with grief. Within days he had to attend the House of Commons where, on May17 he faced charges of bribery of his fellow members.[TH42] At first he was unable to speak. He stood, his large head lightly covered with grey hair with his broad forehead and penetrating eyes, looking pathetic, like an overgrown schoolboy. He began hesitatingly to say that he had never signed company cheques, but merely presided over them. He went on to say that he had taken a sanguine view of everything. If it were determined what should go to revenue and what should go to capital, there would be a clearer picture.

The majority heard his speech in stony silence. An investigative committee uncovered a web of deceit. One item alone showed Hudson himself had kept £37,350. Other accounts had been manipulated. Early in January 1850 Hudson consented to pay in instalments, a sum of over £100,000, in settlement of all claims made against him by the compan [l43] y. Subscribers were at least getting some of their investment back, but it appeared to be an admission of guilt.

Nevertheless, on June 20 1850, the Sunderland Dock opened, one of Hudson’s greatest achievements. There were fifty thousand spectators, cannons were fired and there were scenes of rejoicing. Hudson was in his element making speeches, referring to the High Level Bridge at Newcastle and now this magnificent dock. But the glitter of the occasion was short lived for the ‘Railway King’ as one after another, the Chancery cases came to court. The Solicitor General and the Master of the Rolls decided against him and Newby Park had to be sold. Hudson negotiated a settlement with the directors of the York and Midland [l44] in 1854, after which no more claims would be pressed against him.

Unfortunately, no sooner did he get this debt settled then another charge that he had bribed Members of Parliament emerged. On February 18 1854, a French Count sued him for £4,000 damages in connection with a contract to supply iron. This latest repayment meant that by the autumn of 1854 he had fallen into arrears with his payments to the York and North Midland Company [l45] . His parliamentary immunity protected him from his creditors while the Commons was in session, but in recess he had to resort to all kinds of evasive action to stay at liberty. He found it impossible to retrieve any of his fortune or do business with foreign rail companies, and the pressures of merely living were enormous. For a little peace he decided to go abroad and on August 12 1855 left for Spain. On reaching San Sebastian he became violently ill and was confined to bed for months. Very despondent, Hudson returned to England and Sunderland where he promised to attend better to his constituent’s problems as their MP, if re-elected. He was indeed returned and worked hard on their behalf. In recess he went to Paris to avoid his creditors.

Hudson’s wife managed to salvage a little money out of their wrecked affairs, living in lodgings in Belgravia. In November 1857, she was robbed of clothes and jewellery to the value of £200 and became traumatised with grief. Her second son, John, enjoying a brilliant military career as an officer in the 6th Carabineers serving in lndia, had been killed in the Indian Mutiny earlier that year. This was a terrible blow to the family. There was a further setback when their one remaining enterprise, the Sunderland Dock Company, in which Hudson had £60,000 invested, was reported to be doing badly. Lord Londonderry and other coal-owners appeared jealous of the docks and started boycotting the facilities. Seaham Harbour, Jarrow, Middlesborough and Hartlepool were all touting for trade, so the dividend at Sunderland could not be maintained.

Hudson lost his seat at Sunderland [TH46] and had to go quickly to Paris where he lived in exile to escape his creditors. In the autumn of 1859 Robert Stephenson died leaving his seat vacant at Whitby. The Whitby people loved Hudson, but he dare not venture back to England as his creditors would have him, and besides he was penniless. His old enemy H. S. Thompson of Moat Hall carried the seat.

Hudson travelled from one channel port to another living in cheap hotels, eating where and when he could. This was not doing his old medical condition any good at all and he was steadily growing shabbier and poorer. Creditors still hounded him relentlessly wishing to foreclose on his Whitby Estate. The Sunderland Dock Company was wound up and Hudson’s shares were worthless. In 1863 Charles Dickens came across Hudson when he was travelling to France and remarked, ‘I feel I should know that man’; Hudson, who was taking leave of a friend, was shabbily dressed and waving his high hat in a desolate and sad manner, Dickens, informed that it was Hudson, was amazed and recalled the incident in his autobiography.

Hudson failed because of his own faults, but we must also remember what he accomplished. In the early nineteenth century, England required an efficient rail system quickly to take advantage of the next twenty-five years, when most other countries in the world were struggling. Hudson succeeded with the help of Stephenson and other engineers to do just this. Together he and Stephenson produced a very efficient system capable of keeping England ahead of the other countries. Hudson was a rogue in many ways but a scrupulous, unselfish man might never have produced the railway. It perhaps needed a man whose ambition over-rode moral considerations.

An interpretation of the ‘Railway King’s’ character was given in a report by Dr. Robert Saudek, Europe’s leading graphologist who, on sight of a specimen of Hudson’s handwriting, and without any knowledge whatsoever of whose it was gave the following analysis:

Here is a man of tremendous temperament, nervous, irritable, neurotic and impatient – with himself, as well as others – gifted with farsightedness, grasping things at a moment’s notice, ever ready for combinations – lacks the ability to make himself easily understood, as his thinking would be faster than he could speak, and his instructions could be misinterpreted.

On8 June 1865, Hudson finally returned to England and Whitby to contest the Parliamentary seat there .In an address to a large public meeting, he promised to take West Cliff Estate back out of the hands of the railway company and develop it for the town. Early on Sunday morning July 8 and forty-eight hours before the poll, the Sheriff’s officer entered Hudson’s bedroom and arrested him for debt. Hudson was placed in the unsanitary old town prison at York Castle, where he stayed for three months. His creditors, mainly due to campaigning by the Whitby people, eventually released him. However, by now his health had completely deteriorated. Subsequently he and his wife were allowed to live quietly in retirement at 87 Churton Street, London. To his last day Hudson’s spirit was fresh and alive and he quite enjoyed talking of his experiences and eventual downfall.

His death came in the winter of 1871. He had come north to York to visit some old friends, staying at the house of J. L. Foster, one of the oldest of them when he became very ill with angina. Returning back to his wife in London, Hudson died on December 14. His remains were returned to York where they toured the city. Hudson’s family and friends were in attendance, including Close, his faithful secretary, Cabrey, the engineer and J. L. Foster the editor of[l47] ? The procession toured the valley of Derwent and the Yorkshire Wolds. Hudson’s body was interred in the churchyard at Scrayingham [TH48] .

Today, the tall grass hides the grave and the words carved on the gravestone of the once-mighty ‘Railway King’ have been obliterated.

There’s a bad time going, boys,
A bad time going!
Railway shares have seemed to be
A sink fore! Men’s property
In the bad times going.
Lines, which used to quarrel then,
To prove whose purse was stronger,
Shall be controlled by honest men…
Wait a little longer!"

Punch, 1848

L. S. Lowry

1887 -1976

From the moment he was born, Laurence Stephen Lowry was not wanted. His mother, Elizabeth, had badly wanted a girl and his father wanted anything that his wife wanted and yet he went on to live until he was eighty-eight, his fame coming in the final twenty years of his life. Among the buyers of his paintings were royalty, the world’s largest art galleries and famous collectors, who paid massive sums for his paintings. Fame also came from elsewhere He was awarded an OBE, a knighthood, and made a Companion of Honour [TH1] .[TH2] He was also made a Royal Academician and invited to dine at Downing Street. The Hallé Orchestra celebrated his birthday with a special concert [TH3] and, after his death; a pop-song [TH4] was recorded about him which went to No. 1 in the charts. Three doctorates were awarded from universities and he was offered the freedom of the city of Salford.

[TH5]

Lowry wasn’t much bothered; some honours he accepted others he rejected. More important to him was the love he had striven to elicit from his mother, which she failed to give him. Elizabeth Hobson was born in March 1858 in Manchester to Ruthhetta [TH6] and William Hobson. Elizabeth’s father was a hatter and fairly prosperous. The family rented a series of red brick houses in the Oldham Road area of Manchester. This was where the manpower of the prosperous factories and mills lived during the industrial revolution. This area was where his grandson Lawrence got his inspiration for many of his paintings. He depicted children running barefoot, women old and grey before their time, fighting and brawling drunken men, and of course, pawnbrokers.

.Elizabeth, being prone to bronchitis and ‘lassitude’ received special attention from her father and mother. She went on to be very bright at school and at the age of eight was awarded a first prize for merit. Her father, who doted on her, died when she was eleven His wife died of consumption ten years later in 1879. William Hobson and his wife left an estate of £1,500 in trust until the boys were twenty-one, or the girls married [l7] . The family carried on the hatters business with the profits equally divided

Elizabeth progressed well over these years [TH8] , mainly in music. She gave lessons and was giving lessons and studied further, attending lectures [TH9] covering such topics as ‘Characteristic sketches of Great Musicians’, and ‘The History of Pianoforte playing’. She also attended organ recitals and received advanced music lessons from a Mr. R. Leicester. Contact was made with such people as William Morris, George Bernard Shaw, and Kropotkin the Russian who had fled his homeland to teach botany and biology in Manchester. These were the years when Ford Maddox Brown painted a series of murals in the large room at Manchester Town Hall to commemorate the history of the city. At this time Manchester was also a renowned centre for music. Charles Hallé had arrived from Paris [TH10] , forming the famous orchestra. Frédéric Chopin performed in the Gentleman’s Concert Hall, where the Midland Hotel now stands. Adolph Brodsky, the great Russian violist,[TH11] was a professor at Manchester College of Music, where Carl Fuchs taught the cello. Richard Strauss also visited Manchester during this period.

Although Elizabeth was a very good musician, her career never really took off. She did, however, become a well-known accompanist to the best voices of the day and a very patient teacher of music but her bronchial attacks became more and more frequent and her lassitude more pronounced. She did marry in ????, to Robert Lowry [TH12] at St. Andrews church in Blackley [TH13] They had a short honeymoon in Lytham, after which they set up home at 8 Barratt Street, Old Trafford.

Laurence Stephen Lowry [TH14] was born 1 November 1887. Like the rest of the Lowrys [TH15] he was prone to a weak chest resulting in coughs and colds in abundance. What is also known is that his mother asked when he was born, ‘Is it a girl?’ and when told that it was a boy, she cried uncontrollably. When she could bear to look at him she thought that he was ugly but his father adored him on sight. Lowry’s own recollection of his youth was full of gloom. He recalled no happy memories of his childhood, only ‘poverty, and gloom. My early life was not nice at all, none of my pictures are happy! You will never see the sun in any of them’[TH16] . Lowry also said he never received any presents on his birthday, nor at Christmas. It was, however, noticeable that he owned many books inscribed with ‘best wishes’ and with his mother’s and father’s love.

Lowry later said that he was a horrible child and that his father had wanted to throw him out of the window because he would not stop crying when he was five months old. He also said that his father just sat on the sidelines; he never saw him very pleased nor did he see him very annoyed with anything. His father’s reaction to his own sister’s death was remarkable, ‘I suppose I better go to the funeral’, he said, on being told the news and then went on to say, ‘You know, it happens to all of us’, then, ‘I don’t see why I should go to the funeral’, and he didn’t.

Robert Lowry tried to recruit young Laurence to the junior football team at St.Clement’s. Laurence found it hard to make friends and was regarded as a bit of a snob by some. Others said he threw himself all over the place when put in goal, the other team did not score at all and he was treated as a hero. He went home covered in mud and his mother nearly had a fit. They tried to get him to play again but he refused.

In 1903 when Lowry was fifteen it was debated what direction in life he should take. Sometimes his father took him to the Art Gallery [TH17] , but at the time he wasn’t very interested although it had been noted that he drew and doodled a great deal At home the only picture they had was an oleograph portrait of Beethoven. He begged to enrol at art school and started in the freehand drawing class, moving on to other classes as time went on. When he was sufficiently advanced, he moved up to the life class where he studied life drawings for twelve years.

Robert Lowry’s employer, Jacob Earnshaw, died on October, 1908, and Robert sat back waiting for promotion and the partnership that he had been promised years before. It never occurred to him that he would not get the promotion but when it did not come, a deep sense of disappointment came over Robert from which he never recovered. His eyes and moustache drooped; characteristics that were more noticeable in photographs rather than in his son’s painting of him.

By 1909 Robert accepted that the family must tighten their purse strings and moved to 117 Station Road, a four-bedroom house on the other side of town [l18] with an annual rent of £26. Laurence, at this time, had found a job as a claims clerk for General Accident Fire & Theft Insurance Corporation, with an annual salary of £46.16s 0d; a high percentage of which went to pay for pencils, paints, brushes, paper and fees for his art classes.

It was in 1912 that Laurence completed a pastel called Mill Worker and two oils, of Morning and Evening, views looking south to Pendlebury from Clifton Junction; there was also a view of factory chimneys with no figures.

Lowry’s father was burdened with debt at this time. He tried everything to preserve the status quo, borrowing from friends and family and raising money from life insurance policies and moneylenders. This was the time of the great slump in England and the Great War but the war seems to have passed Lowry senior [l19] by. When asked why he did not enlist he would say, ‘They would not have me.’ Questioned further he said he had been declared unfit for active service. After a medical on 10 April 1916, at Bury Barracks he was classed as grade 3B and exempted from all duties except Garrison Duty. His problem was flat feet.

From his early college days, Laurence Lowry enjoyed a close friendship with George Parker Fletcher, at the time a bachelor. Like Lowry, he was devoted to music and the arts, also the theatre and hiking. But George soon married and Lowry made friends with his brother, Frank Joplin Fletcher, a photographer who also studied his craft at Manchester School of Art. He was roughly the same age as Lowry and had similar tastes. They were soon visiting musical events together: the Hallé Orchestra at the Free Trade Hall, where they heard and Grieg’s ‘Posthumous Quartet’. They went to Horniman’s Repertory Company to see the young Sybil Thorndike in Hindle Wakes. Lowry completed a portrait of Frank Joplin Fletcher which remained behind the wardrobe until after his death in 1955, when his son, Philip, presented it to Salford City Art Gallery. Lowry failed to respond to Frank’s death, did not attend the funeral or even send flowers. He did the same when George Fletcher died in 1967 aged ninety-one. Phillip Fletcher [l20] was hurt tremendously by Lowry’s lack of sympathy for his friends.

By the end of the war Lowry was thirty-one years of age and until then had not exhibited a single painting. Now, as a member of the Academy [TH21] , he submitted three works for inclusion in the annual exhibition at Manchester City Art Gallery. The exhibition took place in February [l22] and Lowry’s pictures were accepted. They were Portrait of an Old Woman, 15 guineas; Landscape, 6 guineas and Pencil Drawing, 4 guineas. Although Lowry did get a mention from The Manchester News [TH23] reviewer, he did not make a sale. Portrait of an old Woman now hangs on the same gallery walls on permanent loan and was insured in 1959 for £7,500. Not only did contemporaries rubbish Lowry’s work, they sneered and laughed out loud. One of those that laughed loudest was Maxwell Reekie (later vice-president of the academy) a large Scotsman who painted Scottish Castles. Another was James Chettle, who had rather large ears and painted water colours and who later Lowry spoke well of.

After the 1919 Manchester City Art exhibition Lowry didn’t bother to exhibit any work for two years. He drew A Woman in a Hat, giving it to a Master Percy Warburton [TH24] , whom he later befriended. Lowry completed one or two street scenes over this period and he took them to The Manchester Guardian reviewer for his opinion. Taylor [TH25] said, ‘This will never do. You’ll have to do better than that. Can’t you paint the figures on a light background?’ ‘How do I do that?’ asked Lowry. ‘It’s for you to find out’ was Taylor’s reply. Lowry, very angry, went home and completed two pictures on chalky white background, commenting, ‘That will teach him.’

Ironically this became the Lory trademark, his figures standing out from an almost chalky white background. In 1924 Lowry conducted an experiment. He painted a piece of wood flake- white six times and allowed it to dry. It was left six or seven years after being sealed. At the end of that time the same procedure was followed and the newly painted wood was lily white, the other being a beautiful creamy, grey-white. The point he was making was that the best of his paintings would survive him.

Lowry observed the painting of William Strang over this period. It was extremely chalky and he wondered how it was possible to exhibit it. Lowry saw the same painting at the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool. The white had changed to a beautiful creamy white [l26] . The exhibition continued for two weeks and Lowry never [l27] sold a painting. The oils were priced at £25, the smallest was £5. In 1921 most were not available under £1,500: The Lodging House, a strong pastel listed at ten guineas was bequeathed to Salford City Art Gallery, where it hangs in the permanent collection and is insured for £1,500 [l28] . A flake white print called Sudden Illness was sold by the artist t [l29] o the collector Monty Bloom in the 1950s for £4,000, but after only two days he bought it back for £6,000. Hawkers Cart, is in the Royal Scottish Academy in Edinburgh and Pit Disaste went to Geoffrey Bennett in Carlisle. A Doctors Waiting Room was bought by Salford [l30] in 1959; originally priced at ten guineas, it cost £7,000. Coming out of School, was bought by the Duveen Fund for the Tate Gallery.

Lowry’s father was more aware of his son’s early success than his mother, and it brought him much pride and joy, Robert kept reviews of his son’s achievements from the newspapers. It was Lowry’s father who inspired him to make one of his best drawings, Saint Simons Church; Robert told his son that it was due to be demolished. Elizabeth’s attitude to her sons painting was rather curious and she rated his industrial scenes as quite without merit. Lowry received a letter asking him if he could write art criticism for a newspaper. When he showed his mother she laughed uncontrollably. When he actually did sell anything his father remarked, ‘This can’t go on; it will go to his head.’ His mother was always rather bewildered by his success. Lowry’s happy days ended when his father died in 1932, the year that he was first accepted by the Royal Academy. On Wednesday, 10 February 1932, Robert Stephen Lowry died of pneumonia at 117 Station Road, Pendlebury aged seventy-four, and Laurence was present. Robert had had a heavy cold over Christmas and Lowry saw him get progressively worse.

Lowry’s mother, now seventy-three, took to her sick bed and stayed there for seven and a half years, relying solely on her son to care for her, which brought him to a state of near derangement. Lowry sketched a simple cross for the stonemason to be made in granite to mark his fathers grave in Southern Cemetery in south Manchester, where all of the family are now buried.

When Robert died there were quite a few unpaid debts. The rent was outstanding, along with the gas bill, and a small overdraft at the bank. A debt to John Earnshaw was owed because Robert had not been able to work. After Robert died Earnshaw approached Lowry for payment. Robert left his wife a total of £534.4.5d, mainly insurance policies from which he had heavily borrowed. Furniture was valued at £25 and he had £1.2.5d in his pocket. His house was rented. Elizabeth knew nothing of Roberts’s debts, not even that to his young nephew, Willy Hobson, the son of her elder brother Edward. Although a poorly paid window-cleaner, Willy did not pursue the matter after his uncle’s death, saying of him that he was a brave, good and kind man. Lowry himself thought it a disgrace and never spoke of his father’s debts; by April 1932 he had repaid them all.

In 1934 Lowry was elected as a member of the Royal Society of British Artists after exhibiting with them in 1933. His work was now travelling throughout England. A Hawkers Cart was exhibited at Rochdale in 1931, Going Home from the Mill by invitation went to Southport in 1932, The Lodging House and A Football Match, were shown in Bradford 1933 and in Oldham in 1936 six paintings were included in a mixed exhibition. In the same year two of his works, Street Singers, and In Salford were selected from the Royal Academy and other London exhibitions for a show at Huddersfield Art Gallery; three more, The Playground, Brokers Shop and Market Square were shown in the spring exhibitions of works by Lancashire artists at the Harris Museum and Art Gallery in Preston.

The fact that Lowry could now put RBA [l31] after his name did not increase his selling price. In 1937, however, Lowry was approaching his fiftieth birthday. He was grateful for a sale every now and then, although he had yet to show a financial profit against the rising cost of materials, frames and travel. Lowry painted solely to attempt to change his mother’s opinion of him. He was raised in the belief that his mother had an instinctive eye for beauty and he acknowledged that judgment. If she saw only ugliness in what he achieved then it must be so, in spite of what others said, and only her changing her opinion of his work would make it any better. On 12 October 1939, his mother died unhappy to the end. She was eighty-three years of age. According to people closely associated with her she died as she lived, a spoilt stubborn, petulant woman who even in death refused to recognise what others freely acknowledged that her son was a great artist and had brought honour to her name.

Lowry shut off her bedroom retaining it as a living memory. There was no consolation for him as his fame came too late in life to change the opinion that his mother had for his work. At fifty-two Lowry was still a bachelor, living alone in the old house. He found it easier to show kindness than to receive it. He made friends with a family living near to him, the Leatherbarrows. Lowry asked if he could take their thirteen-year daughter to the pantomime and they readily agreed. Lowry took Kathleen Leatherbarrow to the Palace Theatre in Manchester early in 1940. The pantomime became a yearly occasion, until Kathleen joined the Wrens at eighteen. The friendship lasted until Kathleen married in 1948. Lowry had a photograph of her on his piano in a Wren’s uniform. He also painted a portrait of her in uniform and refused all offers for it. Later, when Kathleen was asked about the relationship, she said that it seemed that he was enjoying the youth in her and what he himself had missed earlier in his life.

Margery Thompson was another young lady who used to accompany Lowry and Kathleen to the theatre. She said that he used to enjoy the occasion tremendously, so much so that on one occasion he opened the taxi door too soon and hit a lamppost. After the show the girls were taken for tea to the Squirrels Restaurant in Oxford Street, ‘This is where the waiter drew the chairs out for us to sit on them’, said Margery.

On 1 November 1957 Lowry’s seventieth birthday, a photograph of Lowry and a portrait of a young woman appeared in The Manchester Guardian. The girl was dark and slim with her hair parted at the centre and drawn behind her ears. This said Lowry was his first portrait for over thirty years. He named it Portrait of Ann. The newspaper reporter was curious, but all Lowry would say was that she was twenty-five years of age. The portrait was a surprise for the Royal Academy, as everybody had known Lowry for his landscapes. For the first time Lowry was experiencing people asking about the sitter, as people do about Mona Lisa. Lowry said that she was his godchild, Ann Hilder. People also enquired about the young girl with the long black plait whose picture hung above Lowry’s piano in the front room. He said that she was a friend of his from Lytham St Anne’s. She had died when still a girl and Lowry cried when talking about her.

His removal from Station Road came at long last.[TH32] This was a dark house full of memories, with his mother’s room remaining locked since her death. After Robert had died, Louis Duffy acquired the property and carried on a strange relationship with his tenants. Sometimes his wife visited Elizabeth and was given as a parting gift of one of Lowry’s paintings: Is it any good?’ her husband would ask. ‘I’ll give you a bob for it.’ Lowry always used to say that all of his paintings were good. Duffy began to get complaints from other neighbours about the overgrown garden and dirty windows. Eventually he convinced Lowry to swap houses with him. Lowry had seen two deaths in the house and he didn’t need all the space; Duffy’s family was growing up and needed more space.

In a short while [l33] , Lowry commenced his life at 72 Chorley Road. He never really settled there and later [TH34] friends advised him that a house had become vacant at a village called Mottram-in-Longandale on the fringe of the Derbyshire peaks, and this is where Lowry made his new home. Almost at once he started painting, producing Laying a Foundation Stone, which Salford City people said was an insult to Lancashir [l35] e. Lowry enjoyed telling the story. He had been invited to attend a ceremony commemorating the laying of the foundation stone of a new school at Clifton and subsequently commission a painting. When he got there, he was confronted by four rows of children looking the picture of pure misery, the vicar looking ill, gazed in bewilderment as if he wished they were all elsewhere and the mayor, weighed down by his chain of office, looked as if he wished it were all over. Lowry said that he had to leave, so he could have a good laugh, but someone kept bringing him back into the room in case he missed the unveiling of the foundation stone. Ultimately, Lowry completed his picture and showed it to the mayor who surprisingly liked it very much. The city fathers were very annoyed – and showed it. Things were made worse when Manchester City [TH36] bought the painting. The vicar, Canon Fletcher, was irate, telling Lowry that he was no gentleman, making fun of us like this. Lowry replied that he was entitled to paint what he saw. Lowry was accused of exaggerating the size of people’s feet, to which he replied that everybody seemed to have big feet. A year later a picture appeared in a shop window off St. Anne’s Square, it was of a dog with five legs; ‘Well I never,’ said Lowry, ‘I checked it very carefully before I let it go. It must have had five legs, because I only paint what I see.’

About this time [TH37] Lowry retired from his job as a cashier book-keeper at Pall Mall [TH38] . He had a yearly pension of £200, but when the chairman of the company asked him if he would award the pension to another member of the company who had fallen on bad times Lowry readily agreed. His work was now exhibited world-wide, as far away as Japan and New York, where he had an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in 1959 as well as the Robert Osborne Gallery, where the exhibition was entitled ‘The Englishness of English Painting’.

Lowry rejected many honours offered to him in his later years. They were forthcoming when Harold Macmillan was prime minister and in 1955 he was offered an OBE in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list. Harold Wilson who put him forward for a CBE in 1960and in 1967 again approached him, this time offering a knighthood. All these he politely declined. Lowry said that all of his life he had been opposed to social distinctions of any kind. Consequently, he said that he must regretfully decline any honours. A year later [l39] Edward Heath wrote to him, tactfully asking him if he would be made a Companion of Honour. Lowry replied saying that he had at all times tried to paint to the best of his ability and that he hoped he would be always remembered for this work rather than any honour that he had collected on the journey. Lowry also turned down an invitation from Harold Wilson to dine at 10 Downing Street. Wilson seemed to be slow in getting the message because he contacted Lowry again. Lowry responded by insisting that he wished to live the remainder of his life in peace free from publicity, which these honours would undoubtedly bring. He continued to repulse the belated attention from the establishment that he was now receiving.

Over the latter part of his life Lowry was attracted to many young ladies one in particular, Carol Ann Lowry (no relation) was the only child of William and Mattie who were born in Rochdale. When their marriage ended, Mattie lived on her own with her daughter. For years Mattie worked to give Carol Ann a good education, sending her to private schools. Carol was very artistic and Harold Hemingway [TH40] advised Mattie to write to Lowry because he had the same name. Months later Lowry called unexpected at their home and so started a long friendship. Lowry paid her fees at the convent, helped with the rent and also arranged for Saturday morning classes at Rochdale College of Art where his friend, Leo Solomon was principal. On Lowry’s death, Carol Ann was left the majority of Lowry’s estate.

Lowry had painted mill scenes for thirty years and now [TH41] it seemed that no one wanted them anymore. During a one- man show in London, on 11 October 1961, it was headlined in the Daily Herald that hoards of cheque- wielding admirers of the artist were trying to buy one of his paintings [TH42] on hearing that he was about to retire; mistaking the change of direction in his style for retirement. Experts said that this kind of thing usually only happened when an artist died. All he had done was change direction, accepting that he had exploited industrial scenes for long enough.

It seemed a lifetime since his first one-man exhibition, forty years ago at Mosley Street [l43] , when he did not sell one picture. Yet within an hour of opening on 11 October, more than a dozen pictures had been sold for over £1,000. By 1956 McNeil Reid [l44] was pleading with Lowry for his pictures, saying ‘I don’t suppose you have a tiny industrial painting lying about.’ Lowry confided to Frank Mullineux [TH45] that the industrial scenes had passed out of his mind. ‘I could do it now, but I have no desire to.’ Appearing on Tyne Tees Television later,[TH46] Lowry elaborated that sincere emotion showed in all of his paintings, each having a story to tell, as the titles indicate: The Man Drinking Water, Man fallen down a Hole, Lady in a Straw Hat without a Dog, The Business Man Lying Full Stretch on a Bench.

Lowry announced his retirement from painting soon after his eightieth birthday. He was not so much laying down his brushes as retreating from the world he found himself in. Lowry was tired: tired of work from which there was now no release and tired of his meaningless fame. Now, all he wished was peace and to pass his remaining years with his friends.

Even in retirement Lowry was making vast sums of money. In 1972 his paintings earned him £65,000 giving him a net total of £50,000 [l47] . For all this his lifestyle remained modest. His annual sundry expenses amounted to only £47. His lighting bill was only £69, he did not drink or smoke, and he possessed only three suits, one being spattered with paint. He once went to dinner at the Ritz Hotel in London and had an overwhelming desire to order egg and chips, especially when being served by a superior waiter. He kept his house temperatures sub zero, saying he never felt the cold. When art dealers came from the south he made this into a game, forgetting to put the electric fire on in his freezing sitting room, then watching their expressions and how long it took for their noses to turn blue or teeth to chatter, using the length of time before they complained of the cold as a yardstick for their greed, One extravagance he did have was taxis, even using one to travel as far as Sunderland [l48] . Taxi drivers used to barter for his business; as much for his interesting conversation as for the money.

Lowry was well respected. In 1975 Sir John Bateman wrote the following in a letter to the Manchester Guardian: ‘I would like to mention a Manchester subject. He is L. S. Lowry, he is eighty, unmarried with no heirs; his paintings are so good that a permanent exhibition should be made, like Van Gogh in Amsterdam or the Rodin Museum in Paris.’ The following morning the Manchester Guardian, commented that most British painters had to wait until they were dead before this kind of thing happened; L. S. Lowry was luckier than most it was said. Lowry laughed out loud on reading the report, but for years it was seriously considered.

Lowry was not frightened to die but the manner of his passing concerned him, He was known to say ‘A married man lives like a dog and dies like a king. A bachelor lives like a king and dies like a dog.’ He had seen friends and family lose their fights for life; the Fletcher brothers, Frank and George, his mother and father whom he missed tremendously right through his life - now it was his turn. In the early hours of Monday, 23 February 1976, nine days after his admission into hospital, Lawrence Stephen Lowry died in his sleep of pneumonia, following a stroke. He had been a burden to no one; he died as he had lived, with humour dignity and courage. The funeral was held on Friday 27 February. The press was there in scores, as well as artists, dealers, collectors and friends. The Reverend Geoffrey Bennett read the twenty third psalms and thanked God for Lowry’s life, work, and friends. It was a grey dismal day in Southern Cemetery, Manchester when Lowry was laid to rest, in the same plot as his father and mother.

There was some interest in where the majority of Lowry’s estate would go. He left a small Rossetti painting to his faithful friend and solicitor Alfred Hulme, £1,000 to Bessie Swindles [TH49] , four paintings as promised to Salford Art Gallery [TH50] , and an inlaid Tompion Grandfather clock (which turned out to be a partial fake) to Geoffrey Bennett, the vicar. To Carol Ann Lowry he left his prize painting Proserpine plus the remainder of his estate, valued at £298,459. Of his godchild Ann there was no mention.

The value of Lowry’s paintings soared after his death. He had produced between eight and nine hundred oil paintings and three thousand drawings. By the first anniversary of his death prices had stabilised, by the second the prices had held. His constant question had been ‘Will I live?’ He said it would take a hundred years. His paintings have already survived his detractors and his genius outlives all his critics

George Stephenson

1781 - 1848

ffectionately known in the Newcastle area as ‘Geordie Stevy’, George Stephenson was born in Wylam, a very small village on Tyneside in the year 1781. From about seven years of age, his time was spent in the pit working as a trapper boy. For only tuppence a day, trapper boys would sit behind a trap door for about twelve hours, opening and closing it for as long as the men worked at getting coal to the surface. As a trapper boy, he simply couldn’t leave the door when coal was being transported. Not only would he be in trouble with the boss but he would also get a clip across his ear from the putters.

Working from such an early age meant that most of Stephenson’s youth was spent in total darkness either underground, or on his late return home, where he only spent a short time.

At the tender age of eight, Geordie got a job on the surface, picking stone out of the coal, this job was known as a ‘wailer’. For this task he was rewarded with five shillings a week. He quickly established himself as a steady lad and when a vacancy came up at Callerton Pit in 1801, he was given the job of a gin driver, which was a machine for hauling coal tubs from coal faces to the shafts and form there to the surface.

Stephenson was found to be very reliable and conscientious. When a pumping engine was erected at the same pit in 1801, he was given the job as foreman, earning ten shilling a week. From there he progressed to Killingworth in 1804 as Engine-man.

When he was about twenty years of

age George Stephenson, a hard working but uneducated young man, proposed to a young lady called Miss Elizabeth Hindmarsh, a local farmer’s daughter. Unfortunately she believed herself to be way above Geordie’s class and he eventually married her servant, Frances Henderson in 1802 on 25, November at Newburn Church. Frances turned out to be a perfect wife, but unfortunately did not live long enough to see their son grow up to be a fine young man, Robert Stephenson esq., who would become M.P. Engineer in Chief of the North Western Railway. This fine young man would eventually decline a knighthood, offered to him by his sovereign.

As George Stephenson progressed through life to become both a great engineer of his day and designer and maker of railways, he did happen to meet Miss Hindmarsh again (the farmer’s daughter). This time (1803 [AM2] ) she accepted his marriage proposal, along with the honours and glory that were now connected to his name [AM3] !

In 1804, at Wallbottle pit, a banks man was needed to stop the drawing engine at the moment the coal was drawn over the top of the shaft; Stephenson got the job at twelve shillings a week. In the same year, he got a similar job at Willington Colliery, working on the Ballast Crane, and he actually lived there for some years.

George Stephenson did not learn to read until he was twenty-three years of age, education was rare for miners at the time, and later in his life he always encouraged young men to attend night classes. Whilst working as a banks man at Killingworth Colliery, he studied whenever he could.

Stephenson’s main love was the Steam Engine, and he quickly made himself familiar with its construction and workings. Engines of all types interested him, if not charmed him, and he enthusiastically studied them whenever he got the chance. He was particularly interested in its improvement and in fact he did go on to make many improvements, during which his fame grew.

Whilst at Killingworth, George Stephenson proved to be a genius with machinery and engines not only on paper but also in practice. He worked all the nightshifts at the colliery, knowing full well that this would give him the time he desired for further education and study. He did his sums on a slate hung at the top of the shaft and he got these corrected by a teacher during the day, who gave him more to complete; he gave the teacher four pence a week for doing this. Stephenson cleaned clocks and watches for a small charge, as well as making shoes. It was said that he was also a first class tailor; he could turn his hand to anything. Today there is still a sundial, he made, hanging above the door at the house where he lived in Killingworth. He took much pride in this until the day he died. It is believed that, as he and an understudy, in 1836, were about to survey the Newcastle to Berwick railway, they took a detour through Killingworth just to get a look at the sundial, little was Stephenson to know that he would die shortly after that day.

There was something beautiful about Stephenson’s character and that was his wish to give his son a sound education. He devoted every penny he could spare to achieve this. At Bruce’s school, Newcastle, young Bobby received a good elementary education, after which, his father sent him to Edinburgh University. It is gratifying to know that the successes of Bobby would repay his fathers own self-denial. In fact before his death Stephenson would witness the greatness of his son.

George Stephenson’s rise to fame was not a smooth path. He was at Killingworth Colliery around 1800, when England was engaged in war and taxes were very high. There was general discontent among the working classes with the coal industry and the coal mining population suffering financially. This was the period of the ‘dear years’ when even a loaf of bread was found impossible to purchase. Geordie and a fellow worker considered going to America to make a living as farm engineers. What a difference to the Mining and Railway industry’s in England this would have made, had they done so. The Great Western Railway might never have materialised, and his son may have finished up as a gold digger! However, Geordie stayed in Tyneside and roughed it through, as did a lot more like him at the time. Indeed, a chance incident while walking to work one morning would influence Stephenson’s future engineering skills and his life.

On his way to work at Killingworth High Pit in 1810, Geordie passed a newly sunk pit shaft, from which men were drawing water with pumps but they were very slow. Geordie paused and looked at the weary men and eyed the water pumps and told the men that he could do the work in half the time. He was laughed at but they gave him the opportunity to prove himself and he did, he cleared the water in the shaft in no time at all. This incident made him known not only in Killingworth, but throughout the county and he was called upon to service and mend all of the ailing pumps. His knowledge of engines and pumps began to grow; he was particularly interested in how they could benefit mining. As the mines started to work better under his care, in 1812, he was appointed as Engineer at Killingworth, and ultimately became a prosperous man.

In the same year, Stephenson busied himself with installing steam engines underground and fixing those above ground. He laid tramways, mended horse gins, together with boilers, for steam engines. One thing for certain, he could now give up his watch cleaning and shoe making. His son grew into a strapping thriving young man, and everything went well for him. Killingworth became the centre of his activities, and anyone having a problem with machinery came to Geordie; his influence grew and grew around the North of England.

Steam became a great industrial power in the country and it did the work that just a short time previously was impossible, not only in mines, but also in locomotives, ships and for powering mills. In 1804, Trevithick’s engines were working on the Merthyr-Tydfil railway in South Wales. Stephenson, whilst at Wylam Colliery, in 1812, became familiar with this particular engine and set about inventing a more improved version with money supplied by Thomas Liddle, the then Lord Ravensworth and also the owner of Killingworth pit. Stephenson improved the engine by adding a further cylinder, Travithicks engine having only one. Stephenson’s version proved far superior and with help from his backers, was patented. By 1814, he had made many improvements and completed his first locomotive, the Blucher [l4] .

In 1821, George Stephenson was given the job by Edward Pease, of constructing the railways in the North of England and through it he would make his fortune

Stephenson can also lay claim to being the inventor of the safety lamp ironically named Davy’s Safety Lamp. It was said that Stephenson had been experimenting with this lamp while at Killingworth, even before Sir Humphrey Davy’s discovery was made public in 1816. It was also said that he had made tests on a lamp a long time before Davy and that Stephenson was actually the inventor. In fact in January 1818 he was presented with a silver tankard from the public, together with a thousand pounds, for inventing the Safety Lamp. This presentation was indicated as testimony that he actually was the inventor of the lamp – at least in the eyes of the locals.

Robert Stephenson Jnr. made far better locomotives than his father, but it was good to see that these were actually improvements on the original engine that his father made. At one time, the whole of Newcastle was proud of the fact that all locomotives made were improvements on George Stephenson’s original engine, and that they would benefit future generations.

In 1838, through his prosperity, George Stephenson, bought an estate at Tapton in Derbyshire and became involved with the midland collieries. He mixed with all classes of society and he saw his son become an extremely successful man before he died in August 1848 at the age of sixty-seven. Previously in a speech he made, ‘Geordie Stevy’ remarked that he had ‘dined with Royalty, and I have also dined with miners, and I also was a boy trapper, I hope that my exertions have beneficial results and that my labour was not in vain. I have been able to use perseverance in my life to get me through’.[AM5]

As I have previously mentioned, sometime before he died, he travelled back to Killingworth again, to gaze at his sundial, which still remained on the door where he had left it years before. His mind must have strayed back to the time he worked as a trapper boy, and then to his inventions, his gifts to society. What an example he must be to young mechanics apprentices and entrepreneurs, especially being a self-taught man. From a trapper boy to the best engineer and inventor this country has ever known.

The Trapper's Petition

Father must I go down with you
Into the dark and dismal hole
And leave the sky as blue above
Buried amidst the blackest coal.

Father I want to go to play,
I’ve had no play since Monday last,
Oh! Let me have one hour today
And then Ill work and do a vast!

Oh let me play a pretty game
With Tom & Bill upon the heap,
And I shall do my work the same
For then I shall not fall asleep.

Just let me get those pretty flowers,
Down in the field beside the stream;
Then I shall while away the hours
As though I lay in pleasant dreams.

Why must I sit behind the door
So many hours away from you
And hear the putters shout and roar
And nought but shut and open do.

‘Tis very dark, and that small low
You gave me, soon will burn away;
And I’m afraid and tremble now,
To think of biding there all day.

They never let me come and sail
My little ship upon the pool,
Or read that pretty little tale
My mother gave me from the school.

But I must go down beneath,
Don’t let the putters beat me sore;
I tremble so, it stops my breath
To hear them coming to the door.

Just come and see me now and then,
And bring me little bits of bait
Then I shall tremble at the men
And will all day in darkness wait.

Well father! If I must go down
Just hold me tight upon your Knee;
But get me work in yon big Town,
And let me life and daylight see

Moira

Enclosed an extension of the George Stephenson story this would fit in on page 70 1^st. column just before the last Paragraph. I am doing a piece for the same story on George Stephenson last days at Tapton House which I will send you shortly.. I am also going to do an extension on Robert Stephenson also. I have sent this early to get edited and for any queries.

Regards

Bernie

The Liverpool and Manchester Railway

The eyes of the World were on this Railway. Experienced Surveyors of the day knew that whoever undertook the Contract would have untold and far reaching problems ever undertaken by any man. Taking into account rough terrain at Chat Moss and other areas on the route. This was a massive venture and arguably the greatest feat of engineering ever undertaken. The Locomotives were four times as powerful as engines used on the S&D Railway. The emphasis here was more on passenger transport even though haulage would also be increasingly important. This Railway Project would set the pattern for Rail transport for a hundred years.

There was tremendous growth at Liverpool and Manchester over this period; figures show in 1790 Liverpool had a population of 55,000 while Manchester over the same period had 57.000. By 1821 Liverpool had a population of 119.000 while over the same period Manchester had 133.000. Cotton from Turkey and the West Indies shipped to the Port of London took weeks to arrive in the Midlands. Later because of demand cotton was bought from America and landed at Liverpool; vast transport problems were still increasingly evident.

James Brindley the great canal maker developed a canal. The Duke of Bridgewater who made a fortune trading via Liverpool and Manchester funded this. Bridgewater was making an annual profit of £100,000 the Canal only costing £250,000 in the first place.

The idea of a horse drawn railway was not new; William Jessop completed a survey in 1797 but did not get backers. In the summer of 1821 William James was a leading advocate on Railways and he was a critic of Canal and river monopolies. While on the Tyne and Killingworth he had noticed George Stephenson’s work with Locomotives; he described George Stephenson as the greatest practical genius of the age.

In 1822 James was given the job of surveying the ‘Manchester & Liverpool’, Railway; promoters agreed to pay him £300 and £10 for each mile. The Liverpool Railway had formed a committee and most were Cotton manufacturers; all were sick of the exorbitant rates for haulage, which the Bridgewater Trustees were charging. The Committee wrote to James putting pressure on him to finish the survey. All of this period was receiving information off George Stephenson; and a final letter asked him what load weights could be hauled by Locomotives; each time pressurising him to increase the power of the Locomotives. Stephenson actually did increase the power of the machines. George knew that James was a good contact as he also had been given the job of surveying the Stratford on Avon Railway.

William James had a few financial problems of his own to contend with. His brother in law had brought a suit in the Chancery court against him and this went through in 1923. This was the first of many actions that was brought against him; finally leading to bankruptcy. William James went to prison for seven month’s. All of this time keeping his precious survey with him in the hope that the Liverpool and Manchester Railway would re-employ him.

The Commission had had enough of the delays caused by James’s personal problems and two representatives travelled north to Killingworth to see George Stephenson and his Locomotives. They took the trouble to see the progress of the S&D railway that Stephenson had surveyed then returned to the Committee to report their findings. A short time after this the Representative of Edward Pease received a very anxious letter from Mr. Sanders regarding Mr. Stephenson. This letter was bought at Sotheby’s in 1973.

Dear Sir

Tho’ am aware you are not in town, I take the liberty of

addressing this to you to state that the Liverpool Manchester Rail

Road Compy have appointed Mr. Geo Stephenson as their Engineer

and if he be on your line we request you will send a special Messenger

to inform him that a letter has been sent to him at Newcastle

advising the same. The Deputation had previously engaged him and

that engagement has been confirmed by the subscribers at large.

The expense of the special messenger we shall gladly defray.

I beg the messenger be sent immediately to prevent him contracting

Any other engagement

I shall feel obliged by any person in your absence acting on this.

I am, dear sir, very truly yours

J. Sanders

To Edwd Pease, Esq.

Or to the Clerk of the Railroad office in his absence.

Mr. Sanders was desperate to contact George in case he signed up for another appointment, prior to receiving the letter. It was now a year since James found himself in trouble and later he claimed that George Stephenson had negotiated with the Railway Company behind his back to acquire the job but the letter proves this nonsense. A further letter was quite rightly sent to William James regarding the appointment of George Stephenson.

May 25^th. 1824

Dear Sir,

I think it right to inform you that the Committee have engaged

Your friend Mr. G. Stephenson. We expect him here in a few days.

The subscription list for £30.000 is filled, and the Manchester

Gentlemen have conceded us the entire management. I very much

Regret that by delay and promise you have forfeited the confidence

Of the subscribers. I cannot help it. I fear now that you will only

Have the fame of being connected with the commencement of this

Undertaking. If you will send me down your plans and estimates I

Will do everything for you that I can, and I believe I possess as much

Influence as any person. I am quite certain that the appointment of

Stephenson will, under all circumstances, be agreeable to you. I

Believe you have recommended him yourself. If you consent to put

Your plans &c under my control and management your name shall

Be prominent in the proceedings and this, in such a mighty affair,

Will be of importance to you. You may rely upon my zeal for you

In every point connected with your reputation.

Letter to William James on the Stephenson Contract.

James ignored the advice given by Sanders and hung on to his survey and other evidence for dear life. I personally think that if he had trusted Sanders and put his future firmly under his management everything would have turned out well. William James asked his brother in Law Paul Padley to complete another survey. Paul Padley had been acting in the capacity of second in command to James on the project. When Padley arrived; George Stephenson was already there and busy compiling the survey. James was bitter about the way things had turned out. It was a very shrewd move on behalf of George Stephenson but not underhanded and would seem the only outcome to progress the job.

At this time George Stephenson had other worries on his mind; his son Robert was just about to leave for South America. William James faded away from the Railway scene and he finally retired to Cornwall where he lived in obscurity. After taking part in other projects that came to nothing.

George Stephenson began his survey without any further delay. He had just said his goodbyes to his son Robert who sailed from Liverpool away to other adventures. Over the following period George lived rough in Lodging Houses and Farm Houses; some days going without food and water. Most mornings he awoke 3.30 to begin his work. Opposition to his survey came from many sources but mainly from the powerful landowners in the district. Some even using guns to try and frighten Stephenson away. Some these people were Lord Derby and Bradshaw the Canal proprietor. They tried everything possible to stop or delay proceeding but Stephenson and the promoters stood their ground. In a last effort the Canal Company reduced their haulage rates by 25% and the Mersey Navigation Company did the same.

In May 1824 this was the official starting point for the appointment of Engineer/surveyor to the Liverpool Manchester Railway Company. And the Company formally registered itself. The initial capital being £300,000. Henry Booth was its treasurer. Many other Railway projects were at this time moving forward. This included the S&D Railway where George was also engineer. A host of Colliery schemes were also progressing; most of which George Stephenson had been adviser. At this time all was going well for George and this is highlighted in a letter sent by him to Michael Longridge. This is a very confident Stephenson.

Michael Longridge Esq. Chester, November 16^th. 1824

Dear Sir,

There are nothing but Railways and rumours of Railways

in this Country. I am desired to examine Lord Crew’s Coalworks

in the neighbourhood of Newcastle under Line and give a report

thereon. As I can make it convenient to do so. Several other Coal-

Owners in the neighbourhood desire me to give similar reports.

How I shall get all ends to meet I do not know. I think your

Words will come true. I shall have to work until I am an old man.

I have a bag full of news to tell you on the defects of your rails.

You have got your friends in the north as well as myself. The

Indirect secrets are getting out. It astonishes the deep schemes

That men contrive for the over through of their neighbour: and how

Often does it fall upon their heads? I assure you I have been

Twisted backwards and forwards as I think a few poor fellows ever

Were. Not withstanding all those difficulties my spirits are still up,

And I think I have got four times as much as I had when I

Inhabited the north. I am sometimes obliged to use my tongue

Like a scolding wife.

My kind respects to Mrs. Longridge and your family: also too

Mr. And Mrs. Berkinshaw: not forgetting my friend Mr. Gooch. It

Is now eleven O’clock and a great deal of work yet to do. I

Cannot get to bed at your time.

I am Dear Sir,

Yours very sincerely

Geo. Stephenson.

Stephenson completed his survey by 1824 and in 1825 produced an estimate of all costs construction and Rolling stock. £400.000, £100,000 more than anticipated from James; but at least they now had figures to work on. They now applied for a Parliamentary Bill. They then did a concentrated advertising campaign. The Company even got their quota of investors as required very easily; these were required by Parliament. The investors were from areas around Liverpool, Manchester and even London.

The opponents of the Bill had hired a total of eight Counsel to present their case; the cross examination of George Stephenson was the most important and would be disastrous to the board. Stephenson was called Monday 25^th. April. The Barrister found a weakness in Stephenson evidence. This was mainly the speed of the Locomotives and he played on this on every occasion. Anderson the leading Barrister went from one technicality to another. The costing of the project down to the very last detail; at times George was lost for words and his evidence was discredited. More and more anomalies were discovered. The first clause of the bill was defeated by 19 to 13 the second clause 23 to 14 and the Bill were withdrawn. A further humiliation was to come when the Railway Company decided to dismiss him as surveyor/Engineer. They decided to get someone with more experience to make another survey. George thought at this time about his son Robert and longed for his expertise at this time.

The Liverpool, Manchester Company engaged the Rennie brothers George and John; they were two of the best engineers of the time and the sons of John Rennie, the famous Engineer who built the old Waterloo Bridge and the Southwark Bridges in London. They employed another respected Engineer Charles Vignoles and a new Survey was started. The Rennies estimate was for £500.000 which was £100.000 more than Stephenson. They got their Survey through Parliament when Vignoles gave brilliant evidence in favour; this was down to the last detail. The Bill was carried by 40 votes on the 5^th. May 1826.

The Rennies asked for all kinds of concessions for pushing the project forward. They expected junior Engineers to do the job and intended six visits a year to monitor progress; they further asked for £600 a year and would accept no less an Engineer as Thomas Telford himself as a junior and on no account would George Stephenson be even considered. The Rail Company refused these exorbitant demands outright and began looking elsewhere. The S&D Railway was now progressing well without problems and this was a feather in the cap of George Stephenson. The Committee had no other alternative but to approach Stephenson again at this time. The approach was made very differently and on their terms. Stephenson was offered £800 a year and had to actually be there for eight months of the year. During this period he could not take on any other work; Vignoles was given the job as his assistant that neither men agreed to; each feeling more important than the other.

They argued constantly and Stephenson blamed Vignoles for every mistake. Finally Stephenson managed to get Vignoles removed from the job. Charles Vignoles became famous and later became ‘President of Civil Engineers’.

George called in all of his old colleagues and assistants from the Northeast, John Dixon, Joseph Locke and all of the navvies used on the S&D Project. He personally designed all of the bridges and installed Machinery as well as his Locomotives. There were a total of 63 bridges on 30-mile double track line. The most difficult was the ‘Sankey Viaduct’ with nine arches. The largest tunnel was the Edgehill at the Liverpool end. They had to cut deep into sand stone for over two mile, excavating half a million tons of rock. The tunnel was 2,240 yards long. The biggest obstacle being ‘Chat Moss. In Parliament Counsel remarked only a fool or mad man would even attempt lying Rail there.

John Dixon arrived from Darlington July 1826 and on the first day he fell into Chat Moss up to his waist and had to be hauled out. Chat Moss was a complete bog; the more ballast Stephenson put in the more it disappeared. This was a complete Civil Engineers nightmare. Stephenson tried everything in the twelve square miles of that terrible swamp. George worked round the clock rising at 5AM; riding his horse Bobby that had been brought from Newcastle to check on Tunnels and bridges or to just have another go at Chat Moss. He returned to the Farm House to make his ‘Crowdie’, this was a form of porridge made from a handful of oats mixed with hot water.

Gradually Chat Moss was conquered. None thought that this was possible; George Stephenson was blessed with perseverance and this was displayed to the full at this time. The causeway at Chat Moss began to firm up because of the tons of hardcore and other material put in over a period of months. Gradually the area was sound enough to lay the rails. The Manchester & Liverpool Railway Committee had their first board meeting on the 14^th. June at Manchester and they were able to travel there by train. George Stephenson drove the ‘Arrow Locomotive’, which had newly arrived from Robert Stephenson of Fourth Street, Newcastle upon Tyne. This was one of five ordered after the excellent trials at Rainhill of the ‘Rocket’. The train took the Directors over the route; they travelled the thirty miles in 1.1/2 hours; the Locomotive went across Chat Moss at 27mph The Liverpool and Manchester officially opened September 1830. George Stephenson progressed from one successful Railway Contract to another and the experience gained here was the most important of all.

George Stephenson had proved himself to be the World’s greatest Railway Engineer of the age.

Moira,

As promised a little information on George Stephensons final years and his wives and career. This would fit on George Stephenson’s last page.

Note on the pages I sent yesterday I noted that just after the letter to William James; I actually called him Bob James? Could you correct this for me. Ill get on with your disc today.

The Final Years

Tapton House was near Chester field. It was a large red brick Mansion; George lived the life of a retired country gentleman, tending his gardens and generally looking after his estate. Tapton House and private grounds consisted of roughly one hundred acres; George had fallen in love with the estate on site. The main view was of the spire of St. Mary & All Saints’, parish church.

In the Smiles biography George Stephenson he stated that George in his retirement had applied for membership of the ‘Institute of Civil Engineers’. He was told to supply proof of his professional qualifications and also write an Essay. George did not have any qualifications neither did he serve an apprenticeship or pass any scholarship or any type of examination. He was completely self-taught. He therefore had a natural ability for Engineering and Mechanics with a great will to learn. He never hid behind indentures or union red cards and solved one problem after another to establish Railways in England and even the world. It was as if he and his son were destined to complete and achieve what they did. George Stephenson never forgave them and actually accepted the offer of the equivalent from the mechanical Institute. George apparently was proud of his achievements from self-teaching and told his story often at Tapton; for all this he made sure that his son got every assistance possible from education.

Wives

George was married three times. He did not have much to say about any of them. Fanny was older and always ill, she died early: Elizabeth was a Methodist who kept bees and for 25 years was a very retiring wife: Ellen came much later and was much younger; she enjoyed money.

George Stephenson died 12 August 1848 after a severe attack of Pleurisy; he was 67. His remains were buried at the ‘Holy Trinity Church’, Chesterfield. This was the Church where his second wife was buried. According to the press of the times his funeral was very impressive and followed by hundreds of People; one of the notable people was ‘Edward Pease’ who started him off on his amazing and rewarding journey. George Stephenson left £140.000 most going to his son Robert who did not need it in any case; being the first Millionaire Civil Engineer of the time

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

1806 - 1861

lizabeth Barrett was born at Coxhoe Hall, in the County of Durham, in 1806, the eldest of twelve children. She was baptised at St Helens church in Kelloe, where the records can still be seen. Her father was Edward Moulton Barrett [l1] ; who had made his fortune in Jamaica where he owned a sugar plantation. At the time of Elizabeth’s birth, Coxhoe Hall belonged to his brother and was a beautiful house with stables and gardens spaciously set out. There were walks through the woods to the back of the Hall and Elizabeth must have walked these regularly with the rest of the family. Within the estate, there was a gamekeeper’s cottage, along with a mill for grinding corn within a mile of the Hall. On entering Coxhoe Hall, there was a magnificent marble staircase, leading to the upper floors, of which there were three. Coxhoe Hall was a beautiful Manor House and could be seen for miles around, framed in surrounding trees, it was very picturesque.

Elizabeth started writing poetry from a very early age and it was when she was only fourteen that she wrote and completed her first important piece, The Battle of Marathon, which she dedicated to her father. He was so proud that he had it printed, at his own expense, and issued copies to all of his friends. Although this was her first publication, it is believed that Elizabeth was writing perfectly good poetry from the age of eight.

In 1809 Elizabeth, and her family left Coxhoe Hall and moved to a new house that her father had designed and built, called Hope End, near Malvern, Herefordshire. The house had a Turkish theme where everything seemed odd, all nooks and crannies. It also had very spacious grounds, where Elizabeth and Edward, her brother, rode their ponies. This would be their family home for the next twenty three years.

At the age of fifteen, Elizabeth suffered a fall from her pony. Many believe that this was the start of her health problems. However, Elizabeth advocated that it was after suffering a bad chest cold the problems with her health began. Her primary ailment lay with her lungs and chest. During periods of illness, Elizabeth enjoyed reading more than ever. When still a child Elizabeth had studied Greek and Latin, and during her bouts of illness was encouraged by Mr. Hugh Boyd, a local classicist, who often visited Hope End, to continue her studies especially Greek as well as her knowledge of the Classics. Therefore it is no coincidence that in 1833, her first published poem was a translation of Prometheus Bound, by the Greek dramatist Aeschylus.

Elizabeth’s father, Edward Moulton Barrett was born in 1785, the second child and first son of Elizabeth Barrett and Charles Moulton. He had an extremely privileged childhood. In the Caribbean, Edward’s early home was a beautiful house and estate on Cinnamon Hill, the house stands halfway up a hillside on a glorious part of the coastal plain, stretching from Montego Bay, to Saltmarsh Bay.

The savageries of slavery were well known at that time in the Caribbean, and Edward would be fully aware of it even at the early age of seven. Slaves, often treated no better than animals, harvested the sugar cane. A standard punishment being, thirty-nine lashes of thick cattle whip, for some inconsequential offence and a spiked collar worn by those slaves who had tried to escape.

Edward was sent to boarding school in England at the age of seven. On his trip to England and school Edward was very sad and sent his mother a tear-stained glove as a souvenir of his trip. In later years, Elizabeth, requested this glove, and was given it by her mother and it is now, in the Berg Collection, in the New York Public Library.

There has always been a question in people’s minds regarding the reason why Moulton Barrett did not want his children to marry. One reason was the desire to keep his children at home, and under his control; he also wished his daughters to be pure and therefore spinsters. Another, raised doubts regarding his children’s sexuality. However, the most likely was that he did not want any legal heirs to the Moulton Barrett dynasty or any ‘mixed blood’ marriages. This particular fear was rife in the days of the British Empire. Moulton Barrett was constantly reminded of this by his experience on the bench. He was present at many court hearings when wills were contested – ‘mixed blood’ was always a possibility when people had sugar plantations in Jamaica. There was later to be some erroneous comments regarding Elizabeth’s own racial origins. The Barrett’s were half Creole and Elizabeth herself was very dark skinned.

Moulton Barrett was a concerned father, very upright of high, but narrow virtues, he always felt he should be obeyed and had a God given right to do as he pleased. Elizabeth always called this cruelty ‘unkindness’. Mrs. Barrett had no influence over her husband at all and seemed to be constantly having babies. After the birth of her youngest child Octavius in 1828, she died, and sadly this appeared to go unnoticed by her husband. Elizabeth wrote about her mother a month before she got married. She said that ‘scarcely was I a woman when I lost my dear mother. A gentle sweet nature of a woman, whom the sweetness had been soured slightly by thunder (thunder being Moulton Barrett) everyone in the household bowed before it’.

After the death of his wife, Moulton Barrett found himself in the position of a single parent to eleven surviving children. He came to the conclusion that his financial affairs abroad would not be concluded for some time and came to the decision to put his largest asset, Hope End, on the market. After finding a suitable family home overlooking the sea at Sidmouth, in the summer of 1832, he moved his family there. Everyone was very happy there. In 1835 however, Moulton Barrett made the decision to move his family once again and this time to London. He made this decision primarily because of the career paths his sons had chosen to take; George wished to be a solicitor and Moulton Barrett thought that London would accommodate this choice. So, the family moved to a house in Gloucester Place where they would remain until somewhere permanent could be found. Mr. Barrett at this time was involved in the City, and living anywhere near to his work was a bonus. There was a family rumour that if everything went well during their father’s work in the City, they would be really very rich again.

Due to her continued ill health, Elizabeth spent most of her time confined to bed. Her father loved her dearly and fussed over her, calling a never-ending number of doctors, but with no improvement in Elizabeth’s condition. She constantly read books and wrote poetry. She also wrote to other writers and poets and made good friends with Mary Mitford, who was a brilliant writer of plays, opera libretto, and fiction. It was Mary who gave Elizabeth her spaniel, Flush, who would play a huge part in her life and her relationship with Robert Browning.

In 1838, because Elizabeth’s health was not improving, her doctors recommended that her family take her abroad to a warmer climate, or by the sea, to live. In the same year the whole family moved to Torquay, with her father commuting to London. Elizabeth was very close to her father and the torture of parting every week was tremendous for both of them. In 1839, Elizabeth wrote to Mary Mitford saying, ‘my beloved father has gone away and his spirits are far worse than mine’. Every time that Barrett went away he feared that he would not see his beloved daughter alive again. As time passed Elizabeth became weaker and again, writing to Mary, in the year 1840, she said that she had not dressed since the previous October.

At this time her doctors started giving her laudanum, which she continued taking for most of her life. For some reason Elizabeth always paid for her own medicine, she did this out of a small income that her mother had left her. Apparently, in those days opiates could be paid for over the counter. It was not clear if her father was aware of the extent of laudanum that his daughter was taking, but after five years of use, Elizabeth needed forty drops a day. Under this medication, Elizabeth struggled through the winter. As the weather became warmer she got a little better. In July 1840 she was overcome with grief, learning that her beloved brother Edward had been drowned. The tragedy happened in one of her father’s absences from Torquay. Edward’s friends had gone out boating, and the boat had failed to return in the evening. Two days later the boat had been found drifting with two dead bodies in it. A fortnight later, Edward’s body was washed up on the shore, the shock of this nearly killing Elizabeth. What made it worse was that she blamed herself, for Edward had stayed at Torquay because Elizabeth had begged him to, when his father had wanted him to return to London.

In November of the same year, Elizabeth’s health started to improve. Her father’s re-action was, to move the family back to London. They moved to the street that would become part of Elizabeth’s fame and where she would find love, 50 Wimpole Street. Elizabeth spent the following five years there as a virtual invalid. For almost nine out of every twelve months, she never left her room; and was more or less confined to her bed. Her bedroom window was kept permanently sealed. A fire burned constantly in the stove, even at night, and she always slept in the company of her personal maid, Wilson, as well as one of her sisters and her dog, Flush.

Elizabeth’s father insisted that she eat large meals, saying that toast and obstinacy was the cause of most of her health problems. In the spring time of her confinement, she would sometimes be allowed into an adjoining room, and in full summer she occasionally, painfully, descended the stairs and had a little carriage exercise in the park. But the preparation for this venture did not warrant the small good it did.

When Elizabeth was young, she was always very lively, a ‘tom boy’ in fact. She loved the outdoors. When she was fourteen, her two other sisters came down with the same illness. Henrietta and Arabella, recovered from this illness, while Elizabeth never did. Doctor after doctor was summoned to try to treat Elizabeth, but to no avail, and by the time she was fifteen she had a pain in the head, then in her right side, near the ribs, then in her back, right shoulder, then finally down her arm. There was an average of three attacks each day, and she was unable to rest on her right side. Her stomach and bowels seemed fine and her doctors were surprised at her love of spicy food. It was thought that because her other sisters were also ill at the same time as Elizabeth, it must have been caused by something they had eaten. Opium, for a time, relieved the illness, but this lost its effect with constant use. The Doctors were sure that Elizabeth had an illness of the worst kind in that it could not be diagnosed, and that she may have a ‘de-arranged organ’, but they treated her for spinal disease. Her illness continued to be a cause of concern, her lungs were weak, and she haemorrhaged. She had congestion, but it did not point to tuberculosis, which at the time could have been diagnosed. The final conclusion was a possible abscess on the lungs. The symptoms were: racking cough, pain, lack of breath, phlegm, complete loss of appetite, and bronchial problems that would now be treated with antibiotics.

Elizabeth survived with great courage, and perseverance. Miss. Mitford still called regularly, keeping her spirits up, and Mr. Boyd, the blind scholar, read Homer and Aeschylus, with her. She also had letters from other friends. Mr. Boyd once sent her a case of Cyprus Wine, which she treasured, and she always imagined Greece as being a beautiful green country. She offered her father a glass of wine, saying it must be good, because it was Greek, her father did not like it and spat it out, saying, ‘it may be Greek but it is nasty’. When life became too much to bear Elizabeth took her laudanum.

Her real joy was her poetry, it was like a drug to her and it put gladness back into her heart. She wrote endlessly, and she soon completed a volume of poems and had arranged with a publisher called Moxon to publish them. One of the poems from that particular collection was published in Blackwoods Magazine in 1843 and became famous as The Cry of the Children. Elizabeth had written this poem, after reading about the plight of young children working in mines and factories as young as six years of age – even her own problems did not let her forget the plight of these children.

Moxon thought there would be repercussions from industry and powerful people, and there was a delay in getting the poems published for a full year, but finally they did come out. The dedication was to her father ‘To satisfy my heart while I satisfy my ambition.’ The volume was a complete success, in England and more so in America, for the slave abolitionists were very touched by, The Cry of the Children, and begged her to write more material for their cause. She sent them another poem called The Curse of a Nation, which was printed in the Liberty Bell, in 1845.

Elizabeth regularly corresponded with the other literary people of the day, and on 17 January 1845, she received a letter with handwriting she did not recognise. On opening it she saw that it was from Robert Browning. Part of the letter puzzled her; it read, ‘I love your verses, and I also love you too’. She did reply to his letter, resulting in a total exchange of five hundred and seventy two letters over a period of twenty months. Elizabeth and Robert’s was a romance that in 1930 would be immortalized in the play The Barrett’s of Wimpole Street by Rudolf [l2] Besier (1878 – 1942).

Barrett encouraged Elizabeth to have her own visitors, as long as he didn’t have to meet them. On 20 May 1845 Robert Browning first met Miss. Barrett, and on this day he completely lost his heart to her. He wrote asking if she would marry him, as he loved her dearly. This letter happens to be the only one missing from their correspondence. Elizabeth embarrassed by this open display of emotion, wrote back, saying that she didn’t wish to see him ever again.

Robert Browning apologised somewhat humbly, and was allowed to call on her again; first, once a week then twice a week. On one of these visits, Flush bit Robert’s leg tearing his trousers. It was at this time that Flush was stolen by a con-man named Taylor, who offered to return him for a price. Taylor apparently stole respectable peoples’ dogs and returned them on payment of a ransom. In some cases he stole the same dog twice from unsuspecting people, increasing the payment each time; these people obviously loved their dogs. He was reputed to earn two thousand pounds a year doing this. When Taylor first called, Mr. Barrett answered the door and quickly sent him on his way. The second time Mr. Barrett was away and Elizabeth managed to get Flush back, only to loose him again to Taylor. She mentioned this to Robert and he said that she must not give in to extortion, but Elizabeth thought that it was because of Flush biting his leg that he made this remark and they quarrelled about it.

Elizabeth was determined to get the dog back again from Taylor, who had told her in no uncertain terms that he intended to send Flush back, paws first, and then his head, if she did not collect him at the time stated, and also that she should collect the dog herself. The request was an impossible one, apart from Elizabeth’s health, London at that time was very dangerous, full of thieves and criminals. She was determined to get her dog back and asked Wilson her maid to go for him. Even though Wilson came from Sheffield and was somewhat street-wise, she still refused to go, and neither would she allow Elizabeth to go. Elizabeth made it quite clear that she fully intended to get Flush back; she thought so much of the dog and just couldn’t bear to be without him. Even though she could hardly walk, Elizabeth struggled out of her sick bed and, accompanied by Wilson, went to get her dog. She would also struggle the same way for Robert in the near future, when she sailed to Italy rejecting the great love of her father.

In the summer of 1845 Robert begged Elizabeth to go abroad with him to Italy, saying it would greatly improve her health. Robert continued to urge her to go, not really being aware of the physical effort this would entail. Elizabeth finally agreed. Her father, again getting restless, suddenly decided to move once more, saying that the family should decide between, either Tunbridge Wells, Dover, or Reigate. This quickly made up Elizabeth’s mind for her, she knew in her heart that if she didn’t marry Robert now it would have to be put off indefinitely. She did not relish the thought of living in Dover or Tunbridge Wells, especially without the company of Robert, so she told him that she would marry him and go to Italy.

Over the following weeks nothing seemed to go right with the travelling arrangements. Wilson helped her pack essential things, which could be carried. Flush and Wilson were also going with them on the journey. On 12 September 1845 they left the house and Robert and Elizabeth were married at St. Pancras Church. After the wedding she stayed for a while with Mr. Hugh Boyd, her old friend. She ate some bread and butter, and had a glass of Cyprus wine, which her father had very much disliked. The same day she found out that they could not travel for a further week, and for this period stayed at home, further deceiving Papa. Robert did not call this week at all, saying he dare not ask for Mrs. Browning, and did not want to ask for Miss. Barrett. However, everything at long last came together. They all met at Victoria Station, where they caught the train to Dover. In a matter of a few hours they watched the coast of Dover disappear in the distance, as they left the Dover coast and headed for the continent. The Browning’s had a rough channel crossing and on arrival in France, Wilson, Robert, and Elizabeth were exhausted. A carriage was hired to take them to Rouen and, writing later, her description of the carriage ride in the moonlight was that of someone in love.

Elizabeth, for a time, was overcome with exhaustion and had to lie down in the coach with her feet raised until she recovered. They stayed for a while at a hotel for a rest and something to eat then continued their journey to Paris. At 10am, Monday September 20, 1846 they booked into the first hotel they came to, making sure that the coffee was good and the bedrooms were clean. In Paris their marriage was consummated. Elizabeth writing later of the occasion, saying, ‘All is well …I thank God… And I am well … Living as if in a dream, loving, and being loved better every day’. They spent many pleasant hours in Paris, dining with friends, in the evening, as the Parisians do. Robert romantically carried her up stairs to their room, and they watched the stars rise over Paris’ tall buildings, whispering sweet nothings to each other; this was worth all of the problems that they had shared together.

After their visit to Paris, time lapsed and Ba (Robert always referred to Elizabeth as Ba) became pregnant, in fact she was five months pregnant before she realised. However, in March, 1847, at 5pm one Sunday Elizabeth miscarried. She had felt perfectly well until six weeks before the due date, when she had violent night pains. She took a little brandy and Robert rubbed her stomach, after which her pains would subside. However, the pains continued and the baby was miscarried; Ba was used to pain in her life, but this was real pain. At times she and Robert felt they had brought this wrath on themselves, because of deceiving Papa.

On 12 September 1847, the Browning’s celebrated their first wedding anniversary. As time passed, Elizabeth suffered two more miscarriages until 9 March 1849 when she gave birth to a gorgeous little boy. He was healthy and fair skinned. Ba informed her sisters after a fortnight, and she had also given up the use of morphia during her pregnancy, showing ‘the strength of a thousand men’ according to Browning. Her Labour with the baby lasted twenty one hours and the rapture of the first cry was simply unspeakable. Browning told his wife, he could not love a child like he loved her.

The birth of Robert Wideman Browning was witnessed with incredible relief by all, and nurses reported that Robert danced instead of walked. The caps Ba had made for the baby did not fit, as the baby was very large. Ba cut three strands of hair from the hair of the baby to send to relations, one being to Robert’s mother but, unfortunately, she did not live to receive it. Ba hoped and prayed that her father, because of his grandson, would relent and want to see him, she again wrote to him at Wimpole Street, but again another letter was added to the pile of unopened ones. The boy, for some unknown reason, was referred to as Penini by his mother and Ba spoiled him, especially since doctors had told her that she could have no further children. The boy grew up to be a natural painter, something his father always wanted to be

When Moulton Barrett heard of the wedding and their subsequent trip to Italy, he was livid; he ordered all of Elizabeth’s clothes to be packed and put into a warehouse, sending the bills on to her. He forbade any mention of Elizabeth at home by any one in the family and it appeared that his senses had left him when he said, that he would rather see her dead at his feet, than alive and happy. Moulton Barrett never saw his daughter again, Elizabeth wrote to him constantly, begging forgiveness and ceaselessly informing him of her love for him. The letters multiplied, unopened for a full five years; culminating with Barrett sending them to Robert, enclosing a violent letter of abuse.

Just prior to Moulton Barrett’s death, Robert wrote to him hoping for reconciliation but this was not to be; this was Elizabeth’s final hope, and she was overcome with grief and remorse for Papa. A few months passed and on April 17, 1857 Moulton Barrett died; Elizabeth was again overcome with grief and remorse. She had never felt like this since the death of her brother and to the end of her life she protested her love for her father.

Prior to these events, the birth of her son and the death of her father, Elizabeth had enjoyed her time with Robert, basking in the sunshine of Pisa, then later Florence. The sunshine suited both Robert and Ba and her health improved steadily and dispensing with her morphia, her appetite automatically came back. One day for dinner she had a meal of sturgeon, turkey, stewed beef, and mashed potatoes and finished off with cheesecake.

Both Ba and Robert were writing again during this period and they were doing this in relative peace. Ba was working on a collection of sonnets, and Robert felt he had something to offer all of the arts so, in-between modelling in clay and painting, he strummed a piano, which he had hired. It was not long after the birth of their son that Ba presented her husband with her completed volume of sonnets. She had become much bronzed with the sun and Robert called her ‘his little Portuguese’, hence the name given to the sonnets: Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850). Ba was a little diffident regarding the sonnets but Robert was very enthusiastic. They were printed and published as collected verse. Later, critics would consider the sonnets to be her best work.

Although very much in love, Elizabeth and Robert did have many differences of opinion; one area in particular was spiritualism. Ba attended séances, quite often and tried to get Robert to attend. He actually did attend one or two, but as a sceptic. However, when on a visit to England, medium Daniel Douglas Home, was at the height of his vogue. Ba wanted strongly to make his acquaintance. All the time Robert was suspicious of him, and it was mainly this suspicion that made him write a poem called Mr. Sludge the Medium – it held the whole of the spiritualism ‘business’ up to derision.

The Browning’s visited London quite often, but always in summertime to escape the city’s winter fogs. These visits were terrible for Elizabeth, especially when her father was still alive, and on one of these occasions she met Robert’s parents, who she found to be not very attractive. They sometimes visited Wimpole Street, when they knew that her father would not be in, and on one occasion nearly got it wrong when they heard his footsteps from the room above. She thought at one stage that he may come to see her but this did not happen, and she simply could not pluck up enough courage to go to him. She knew then, in her heart, that she would not see him again, and with this in mind asked Robert to write again to him for reconciliation. As I have already mentioned, Robert did as he was asked but Elizabeth did not get the response she had hoped for.

On their return to Italy Elizabeth felt ill again, and her strength finally began to fail, she spent long hours soaking up the Italian sunshine, thinking that she again would be revived as she was before. Elizabeth still kept writing, and this was the period when she wrote her verse novel Aurora Leigh (1857). It was a great success, especially in England, and there was serious talk at the time of making her Poet Laureate – she scoffed at the idea. In 1859 Elizabeth was in better health. This was the time of the Italian revolution. Soon after, however, she fell ill and was again confined to bed – except for short periods. She easily became faint and on occasions had real difficulty in breathing. Robert, in a panic surrounded her with doctors, but all to no avail. Ba died on 29 June 1861.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was a great example of an amazing woman, rising up against all odds. From years of obscurity and illness, to writing the very best of poetry, that will always be a comfort to people till the end of time. She had an overwhelming love for Robert Browning, that inspired her to want to live, and tremendous love for her father which she longed to express, but never had the opportunity. Her very last words uttered, in this life were, ‘Dear Papa'.

Sonnets from the Portuguese

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1850)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and in my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, – I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! –And, if god choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Home Thoughts, From Abroad

Robert Browning 1812-1889

Oh to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bow
In England-now!

And after April, when May follows,
And the white throat builds, and all the swallows-
Hark! Where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops-at the bent spray’s edge-
That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could rapture
The first line careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children’s dower,
Far brighter than the gaudy melon-flower!

Kelloe Church still keeps the little eighteenth century font that Elizabeth Barrett was baptised in on 10 February 1808. The church is mainly thirteenth - fourteenth century, the low tower and the south doorway are both original. In the sanctuary is a Norman cross, which was unearthed as six separate pieces during restoration work in the nineteenth century. There are a number of holes in the cross, possibly for holding holy relics. The top part is a wheel cross, and scenes are carved down the stem. At the bottom of the cross are two medieval grave-covers, which where discovered at the same time as the cross. On the south side, near a modern window, portraying the parable of the Good Samaritan is a marble monument with these words:

To commemorate the birth in this parish of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who was born in Coxhoe Hall, March 6th 1806, and died at Florence, July 29th 1861. A great Poetess, A noble woman, a devoted wife. Erected by public subscription, 1897.

Richard Grainger 1797 - 1861

lthough Richard Grainger would become one the greatest benefactors of Newcastle upon Tyne, he came from humble beginnings. Born October 9, 1797 in High Friar Lane, Newcastle, the street between Nuns Field and the Town Wall, leading to High Friar Chare (this area is presently located in the region of Blackett Street). Grainger was destined to transform the entire area of his birth.

The Grainger family occupied two rooms of an upstairs tenement building. Richard’s parents, Thomas and Amelia, had three other children at the time of his birth: George was the eldest, William, unfortunately died at Thirsk in 1823, John was born July 17, 1791 and Amelia, the only girl, born in 1794.

Thomas Grainger was a native of Cumberland, possibly deceased from the Grainger’s of Brough. He worked as a humble porter on the Newcastle quay. Amelia, an expert at stocking-grafting and glove making, contributed to the family income during hard times. In 1809 Thomas Grainger died, leaving Amelia to take over the reigns and steer her family on to better things.

Richard Grainger’s only education was gained at a parish charity school. At this school he was well remembered for his ruddy smiling face, quiet manner and the green badge coat he always wore. He had an interest in architecture from an early age and became apprenticed to Master Carpenter, John Brown from whom he learnt all aspects of the building trade.

It was not until 1819, when he won the Higham place contract that Richard Grainger began to see the possibilities of modernising the town of Newcastle. Although the population was only approximately forty three thousand, the town was immensely crowded, especially in the lower areas of the town. These ‘lower areas’ around Pandon, Close and Sand -Gates were demolished in 1811, along with the Postern and Western -Gates. The Town wall was also removed, from Newgate Street to Pilgrim Street, for redevelopment.

Richard’s wife, Rachel, the eldest daughter of Joseph Arundale,irst great enterprise, the erection of Eldon Square, which he began in 1826.

After his success with Blackett Street in 1824, in which he constructed houses designed by Thomas Oliver, Grainger undertook the Eldon Square project with a growing confidence. Using John Dobson’s designs, work began on the project in 1825 with the removal of some old baron fruit trees and the entire clearing of the area. Grainger built all but three houses in the three sided square. In 1827, the historian, McKenzie, remarked that the completion of the new square was a proud moment to the whole area.

Grainger’s next undertaking was the construction of Leases Terrace and Crescent. In 1829, with Thomas Oliver as architect, seventy first class houses were built in a square, having small gardens to the front and a paved terrace walk. A further sixty house were constructed, although not as grand as the first. This project took him five years to complete.

In 1834, the Royal Arcade was erected at the eastern end of Moseley Street. This became the town’s first indoor retail commercial centre. The area is now occupied by a huge roundabout and new development of luxury apartments, ‘55 North’.

By 1841 Richard Grainger had enriched Newcastle with property to the value of two hundred thousand pounds and all of this before embarking on his ‘New Town’.

Grainger purchased twelve acres of land in the Middle (Middle Street, at the end of Moseley Street) of Newcastle to the value of fifty thousand pounds and for some time he kept his intentions a secret. In 1833, he bought more land to the value of forty five thousand pounds and only then unfolded his plans for the huge undertaking of Grainger Street and Market. The Market area was to include the Big Market and the Groat Market.

First, Newcastle would have to give up its old market, for Market Street ‘old market’ would provide access to the new markets; this cost Grainger fifteen thousand pounds. In exchange for the loss of their old market and a very modest fee of thirty six thousand pounds, the Council would get a very modern market.

The project took five years to complete, with Grainger employing two thousand people to work on it. By 1835, the Grainger Market and Butcher Market were completed and were given a grand opening. The opening was celebrated by a public dinner at the market, with approximately two thousand local people attending. This was the finest market in England, even larger than the Liverpool and Hungerford markets. The Grainger Market had fourteen entrances, contained two hundred and forty three shops all of which could be individually locked, and two water fountains containing three thousand gallons of water.

Grainger did not stop with the Market. However, in order to undertake his next project a theatre stood in the way. He promised the proprietors of the said theatre a beautiful new building plus five hundred pounds cash. Other properties would have to be destroyed too and some tenants were against this and applied for a legal injunction. However, even before the application got to London the contract was signed, and the old theatre chimneys were demolished within the hour. One tenant was holding out in the area, but they were finally persuaded, and escorted to a brand spanking new house lavishly prepared for them. Before morning came, their old house had disappeared.

The task confronted by Grainger was immense but the ground was soon prepared for development. Soil was carted away to the tune of two hundred and fifty thousand loads, each load containing eighteen cubic feet, which cost twenty one thousand, five hundred pounds, paid to only one contractor. People marvelled at Grainger’s’ genius, especially considering he was a self-taught man; he had amazing powers of enterprise and taste.

On its completion in 1840, everyone marvelled at the sight of Grainger Street and Grey Street. The ground floor fronts of the buildings were glass; these were for shops and inns. Within three years eight other streets started to spring up, similar to Grey Street. All had uniform colours, and it was said that these houses had an advantage over Regent Street, London, not only in architecture but also in the class of materials used. Grey Street remains today and is four hundred yards long, eighty feet wide; the houses being four stories high and all with basement cellars. The architecture is Corinthian in character, not unlike the Pantheon in Athens; the Ionic columns, twenty two feet high. Grainger had created beautiful new buildings, to replace the old and dilapidated.

During this period of construction, Grainger built a magnificent new Corn Exchange (1837), at the head of Grainger Street and Grey Street. He offered it to Newcastle Council free of charge just as long as it was used as a corn exchange. Unfortunately, another building, for similar use, was already under contract and so they had to turn the offer down. Grainger’s building was instead made into a public meeting place, which included a reading room, a coffee room and conference room. The interior measured one hundred and fifty foot by ninety five foot in a semi-circle with a seventy five foot radius; the roof was supported by fourteen columns. There were five entrances, with the floor decorated with white tiles. All together the whole building was exceedingly striking.

Altogether, Grey Street, Blackett Street, Grainger Street, with the column to Earl Grey stands as a remarkable monument to the current day city of Newcastle, where visitors still marvel at the architecture of the buildings. The same can be said of Market Street and Clayton Street, where all of the fronts of the houses are made of polished stone in various designs. In total, nine new streets were added to Newcastle in the space of five years, over two thousand workmen were employed, and Newcastle showed a growth in its yearly population of some one thousand five hundred a year during this period. Grainger had, without doubt, amazing vision, and he was one of the best ‘property developers’ the North of England has ever known.

Timothy Hackworth

1786 - 1850

ike his friend, George Stephenson, Timothy Hackworth was born in Wylam, the, same Tyneside village to witness the birth of the Locomotion and with it the emergence of the modern railway system.

Timothy’s father, Jack Hackworth, was foreman at Wylam Colliery. His experience of mining practices was well known as were his skills as boiler builder; he would spend most of his spare time studying mechanical principle. These skills he passed on to his son.

From a very early age, Timothy showed an interest in the tools of his father’s trade, with his father encouraging Timothy’s early interest in all things mechanical. At the age of fourteen, Timothy was apprenticed as a blacksmith at Wylam colliery. It was during his apprenticeship in 1802, that Timothy’s father died and, being the oldest boy, most of the family burden rested securely on his shoulders. However, Timothy showed strength and hope for the future. He took his responsibilities seriously, supporting his widowed mother and the rest of his family.

On the completion of his apprenticeship in 1807, the colliery manager, Christopher Blackett, was so impressed with his progress that he appointed Timothy Foreman Blacksmith, the same position held by his late father, Jack Hackworth. Under the direction of Mr Hedley, the colliery viewer, Timothy’s interest in Locomotives grew, along with his love of Wylam and the surrounding area. In 1818, Timothy moved to Walbottle Colliery, near to Wylam, to undertake a similar posting.

In 1824 George Stephenson was engaged in surveying the route of the Manchester to Liverpool Railway, he had a problem with management at his Forth Street factory; knowing Hackworth’s background as an engineer, he asked him to take charge of the factory in his absence. Hackworth readily accepted, with the consent of the manager of Walbottle Colliery. He was also given the opportunity of a partnership with the Robert Stephenson Company, but he declined, with no apparent reason being given! During this period Timothy was also offered positions abroad in Venezuela, Trinidad, and New Granada, but these were also rejected. One reason given for this was his desire to stay in England. Other possible reasons were his religious beliefs and his desire, as a lay preacher, to preach the gospel regularly.

In 1824, Timothy left the Forth Street works and for a time was engaged in building engine boilers for the Tyne Iron Company. He longed to go into business for himself and eventually his chance came. He rented premises solely for this purpose, but just prior to starting on his own George Stephenson asked him if he would accept a post as resident engineer of the Darlington-Stockton Railway. Timothy accepted and started the post in June 1825, three months prior to the opening of the line.

Timothy quickly gained the confidence and respect of his employers. The first public railway had already been laid, but there were numerous important details to perfect for the future running of the project. Timothy revelled in the opportunity to show his skills as an engineer; his main aim being to re-design and modernise the Locomotive in time for the coming Rainham [l1] Trials, to be held October 1-6 1829. Prior to the trials the Locomotive had a slight advantage over horsepower for heavy haulage and Timothy was determined to exploit this advantage, whilst at the same time hoping to instil confidence in the early railway system.

As haulage increased with production, Timothy found that to deal with the extra work, a new Locomotive would have to be designed and put to work. Permission by his employers at the time, Stockton and Darlington rail Company, was given for him to work on this project and in 1828, by utilising the discarded boiler of an old engine the Royal George was created. The accuracy and expertise of his design was amazing, and it was far superior to other Locomotives of that time. In tests it was found that a fifty per cent saving was made by using the power of the Locomotive instead of ordinary horse power. In the Royal George the two upright cylinders worked on separate shafts, placed on opposite sides of the boiler. Hackworth re-introduced this ‘two cylinder’ design, originally devised by Trevithick, and discarded as inefficient the design adopted by George Stephenson of the single fire tube. He also made it possible to eject the waste steam through the contracted orifice of the waste pipe in the chimney, the force of the blast was greatly increased therefore the combustion in the furnace was greatly accelerated. Hackworth’s improved engine gave speed and power unknown to earlier engines.

Around about this time a deputation was sent north by the Liverpool and Manchester Railway to investigate the efficiency of Locomotives and whether or not fixed engines and horsepower were not the better and more efficient option. There investigations resolved in favour of the fixed engine rather than the Locomotives. Messrs. Rastrick and Walker completed the report; the findings proved a severe blow to Robert Stephenson and meant the abandonment of Locomotion construction at his Forth Street works, causing great financial loss to the works. Ultimately, Stephenson sought advice from Timothy; Stephenson knew that the choosing of a fixed engine against locomotion would have serious financial repercussions for the North Eastern Railway. In addition, he asked Timothy what weight it was possible to haul by a ten horse power engine at the rate of ten miles an hours, and whether this would vary in summer and winter. Hackworth’s reply to the younger Stephenson showed his full character and also his knowledge:

Dear Sir,

The statement you allude to, that a complete Locomotive will take but 10 tons at 10 miles an hour is quite at variance with facts, as an opinion merely, this I would forgive. Four of our wagons laden for depots frequently take from 12 to 13 tons of coal, exclusive of the wagons. Our engine’s never take less than 16 laden wagon’s in winter and in the summer from 20 to 24 and 32 laden, they can maintain a speed of 5 mph except in cases of stoppages by means of horse wagons at the passing places, engines thus loaded have frequently travelled at 9 mph sometimes more. It is unsafe to aim at a speed on a single line railway the danger is at passing places. I am verily convinced that a swift engine upon a well conditioned railway will combine profit and simplicity and will afford such facility as has not hitherto been known. I am well satisfied that an engine of the weight you mention will convey on a level, in winter thirty tons of goods at 10 mph exclusive of carriages and 40 tons in summer exclusive of carriages The six wheeled engine, fitted at the companies works generally takes 24 wagons 53 cwt to 3 tons of coal each speed 5 mph empty wagons 24 cwt each, the six wheels by R. Stephenson and Company, twenty wagons 5 mph weight as above.

As to my general opinion as to the Locomotive system I think it is comparatively in a state of infancy. Swift engines on a double way, I am convinced may be used to the utmost advantage. Improvements upon anything yet produced, of greater importance in all respects are clearly practical; and I am sure this will prove itself by actual remuneration to such parties as prudently yet diligently pursue the execution of this kind of power, with their eyes open to those alterations and advantages which actual demonstration of local circumstances point out. Stationary engines are by no means adapted to a public line of railway. I take here no account of a great waste of capital. But you will fail in proving to the satisfaction of any not conversant with these subjects the inexpediency of such a system, --I hear the Liverpool Company have concluded to use fixed engines. Some will look on this with surprise; but as you can well afford it, it is all for the good of science and of the trade to try both plans. Do not discompose yourself, my dear sir, if you express your manly, firm decided opinion, you have done your part as their adviser; and if it happens to be read in the newspaper, whereas ropes have strangled the Liverpool and Manchester railway, we shall, not accuse you of guilt in being accessory either before or after the fact[M2] .

In 1849 Hackworth built the famous Sanspariel[l3] the engine that, whilst competing against the Stephenson’s Rocket at the Rainhill Trials, developed boiler problems, causing it to break down. However, the disadvantages under which Hackworth worked are very well known; the Sanspariel breakdown was entirely due to the bad workmanship of Robert Stephenson & Co. who cast and bored the cylinders – the very firm that was competing with him. In many respects Timothy Hackworth’s engine was far better than the Rocket. George Stephenson himself said that Hackworth’s idea for the boiler on the Sanspariel was i [l4] ngénues. Indeed, at the trials, it proved to be faster than the other Locomotives until the boiler broke down.

The original Sanspariel could be seen working on the Bolton Leigh Railway, several years later – not much the worse for wear. The boiler never required any essential repairs, unlike most of its rivals, which ended up on the scrap heap. The Sanspariel now occupies a position in the South Kensington Museum, London, in the company of Puffing Billy and the Rocket; all interesting relics of a humble colliery village - Wylam.

After the trials at Rainhill, most leading engineers started building Locomotives; some of which were exported to France and America. In America William Howard designed a Locomotive in 1828 for the Baltimore and Ohio railroad. The Locomotive Howard designed was never constructed, but he was credited with the patent. A Locomotive that was built was Tom Thumb tried in 1829 and in action on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad by 1830. Designed by Peter Cooper of New York and weighing about a ton, with a single vertical cylinder of 3¼ inches diameter and a stroke of fourteen inches, this engine instigated the start of heavy investment in steam Locomotives by the Americans. Robert Stephenson & Co. built a Locomotive called America for the Delaware Company, which arrived in America about this time. It had outside sloping cylinders attached high on the boiler, one either side of the trailing end, with four coupled wheels.

On his return from the Rainhill Trials, Hackworth was disappointed but not disgruntled. The Sanspariel had displayed well and it had helped Timothy’s reputation enormously. Back at his own works at Shildon he found an engine from Robert Stephenson, Rocket No. 7. The engine had six coupled wheels, with the cylinders fixed diagonally on either side of the boiler, between the middle and trailing wheels, the same style introduced by Robert Stephenson when he returned from America, in 1827. Over the next two years Hackworth embarked on building a more streamlined and faster engine, combining steadiness with reliability. Timothy named the engine Globe. It had a copper cylinder steam dome to secure ‘dry’ steam, four coupled wheels five feet in diameter, laminated steel springs to all wheels, inside cylinders with crank axle, and valve motion reversible by a single lever. The cylinders were nine inches in diameter with a stroke of sixteen inches, placed horizontally under the trailing end of the engine. The boiler was revolutionary, the power from which was greatly superior to any other engines of the day.

The building of the Globe was a huge project and in 1830 Timothy moved to Stephenson’s Forth Street factory to complete the task. The following extracts were taken from Timothy’s diary. They show that he visited a number of towns on his way to the Forth Street Works:

He left home on the morning of March 1st 1830, arriving in Newcastle on the 3rd March, and in the company of Harris Dickinson, (Robert Stephenson’s manager), took a gig to Bedlington, where he ordered boiler plates for the ‘Globe’ after which he spent 4th 5th and 6th at the Forth-Street Works, explaining the new design, especially the first crank axled inside double, horizontal cylinder ever designed[M5] .

There was some opposition to the crank system, by one of the Forth Street engineers saying that it would slow the engine down. Timothy quickly dismissed him, saying that all he required from the Forth Street Company was good material and good workmanship and that any failure in the design was his responsibility; he also made it absolutely clear he required early delivery. Then on the March 6 he left Newcastle bound for Shildon. However, that was not the end of the crank system issue. There was no further discussion from the Forth Street Works on the Crank design, but there seemed a delay in the Globe’s completion. In October 1830 a crank axeled engine with horizontal cylinders, was supplied to the Manchester-Liverpool railway, while the Globe was not delivered until two months later. The Engine supplied to the Liverpool-Manchester railway was called Planet.

The delivery journal of Robert Stephenson and Son showed that their engine the Planet had been charged to the Liverpool-Manchester Railway on September 3 1830. The Railroad Minute Book reported the arrival on October the 4 1830, the Liverpool, being ready for trial on October 25 1830. No mention had been made of why there had been delays with the Globe and why the Planet had been produced prior to the Globe at Forth Street Works

Along with Edward Pease and his sons, and Colonel Henry Stobart (proprietor of Etherly Colliery), Timothy Hackworth was directly in charge of the engine drivers. Engine drivers were extremely important in the early days and their lives were rough and dangerous. They worked long hours and were exposed to all weathers. The drivers were paid on tonnage rate, that is, the amount of goods (coal or other) hauled. Out of this money, they had to pay their assistants, the oil and greasers, firemen and even the coal for fuelling the boiler, as well as the oil and grease needed to run the engine.

Each engine was unique, having their own good and bad points, and sometimes they needed a little coaxing up inclines with a crowbar. Each driver soon got to know his own machine. One driver, William Chicken, had the reputation of being the only man who could reverse Globe in the dark. Having no braking system, the engines had to be knocked out of gear, and the assistants had to break the wagons on banks. Another driver, George Sunter, used to run a train of wagons from Shildon to Middlesbrough, and would take on water at Yarm and Darlington without stopping. To do this he uncoupled his engine from the wagons about a mile from arriving at the two depots, and ran the engine on to take in the water, then restarted his engine and re-coupled without stopping the wagons. Sunter also used to let his fireman go home from the engine on reaching Darlington, on Saturday evenings. He drove and fired it for the remaining nine miles to Shildon himself. This was not easy as the driver’s levers were at one end and the furnace at the other end of the engine.

There was no doubt that driving early Locomotives was hazardous. One of the most locally respected drivers was William Gowland, driver of the Royal George, and very trusted by Timothy Hackworth. In a statement of monthly wages, for April 1828, for work completed in March 1828, out of five named drivers Gowland had £37.8.11d, more than double the amount of any of the other drivers. He drove Sanspariel at the Raynham Trials and afterwards worked on the Bolton-Leigh Railway, he finally made his home in Bolton.

Timothy Hackworth continued to make quality Locomotives, each one more improved than its predecessor. The days of the steam Locomotive were certainly here to stay, and it was hard to understand how the coal industry had survived without them. Four Locomotives were built around about 1838 for The South Hetton Coal Company, the Buddle the Kellor, the Wellington and the Prince Albert, all of which were used to transport coal via the incline to Seaham Harbour. They were powerful little engines and could be improvised to act as snowploughs. The Clarence Railroad, Hartlepool, was also at its height in 1840 and Hackworth built many Locomotives for them; two of which were the Coxhoe and the Evenwood, they were compact, powerful Locomotives with six wheeled coupled engines, wheels measuring four feet in diameter, the cylinder diameter fourteen inches and the stroke twenty-two inches.

From 1830 onwards, Timothy Hackworth also manufactured and produced stationary engines. These were used for both pumping and winding purposes. One example of a Hackworth engine was at West Auckland Colliery; during the twenty five years of the colliery manager’s service, the engine worked from 6am to 4pm daily without a break, making 1,500 winds a day and lifting 75 score (1 score = 8 tons) which equalled 600 tons from the shaft 324 feet deep. It was noted by the manager and owner of the colliery that the workmanship of the engine was superb, and saved the colliery thousands of pounds.

Other collieries that were supplied Hackworth engines were; Woodhouse Close Colliery, and South Durham colliery. In 1836 an engine was built for South Church Brewery, along with a pumping engine, for Deanery Colliery, which cost £1,086.18.10d; a 20hp pumping engine for Henry Stobart & Co. Lands Colliery Company, costing £346.14.6d, as well as a second engine for Borough Bridge. A further, large incline engine was supplied for the Durham-Sunderland Railroad; the line, started in 1834, was sixteen miles long. It was decided that this line should be operated by a stationary engine, making it the longest stationary line in England. The engine was 83hp and worked at Eppleton Plane. Including the drums it cost £2352. 19. 10d and was completed at the end of 1836. Although the line was quite satisfactory, overall, it showed the inefficiency of this particular type of haulage. The line was taken over by the York-Newcastle Railroad in 1836.

In 1836 Hackworth built a Locomotive for the Russian Government, it was the first engine ever to run in Moscow and it was dispatched in the autumn of that year. It was a double trunk engine built with a firebox and a smoke box and contained 135 horizontal tubes 1½ inches in diameter. The cylinders were seventeen inches in diameter, with a stroke of nine inches, all mounted on six wheels with single drivers, five feet in diameter. The leading and trailing wheels were three foot six inches diameter. The ledger showed the total cost of the engine being £1,884. 2. 9. This included: £140 for the wheels, and £330. 9. 0d for the tender that was fitted with brakes and a capacious tank.

The duty of taking the Locomotive to Russia fell on Timothy’s son, John. He was Hackworth’s eldest son, seventeen years of age, and very mature for his age. John was almost as tall as his father and a bright, keen engineer. John had a small staff including the Foreman of the Shildon Works, George Thompson whom managed an excellent repair when the cylinder cracked after only a few days. Thompson went from St. Petersburg to Moscow (600 miles) to a factory, made a pattern for the cylinder, had it cast then bored out, returning to St. Petersburg and fitting it to the engine. The Locomotive was taken from St. Petersburg to Tsarskoye-Selo, where the summer Imperial Palace was. The Locomotive was started from there, in the presence of the Tsar, in November 1836.

John who was introduced to Tsar Nicholas recounted how he talked about an early visit to England in 1816 when he observed one of Blenkinsop’s Locomotives on the colliery lines from Middlesbrough to Leeds. This was before he was on the throne. The Russia expedition was a complete success and Hackworth built a further Locomotive in the year 1837

After Timothy was installed as chief engineer of the Stockton-Darlington railroad in 1825, a bond grew between him and the Pease family, headed by the father, Edward Pease. A very respectful admiration was jointly held between them and they very much trusted each other. Joseph Pease and his younger brother Henry were held very high in Timothy’s estimation, but it was Joseph, to whom he was most drawn. It was Joseph who suggested calling his home and works ‘Soho’. Timothy also had a great respect for the father, Edward, but it was Joseph that he completed day-to-day business with.

Joseph Pease was one of those rare people who remained unspoiled by his prosperity. When in Parliament he addressed members as ‘members’ not ‘honourable members’, and the speaker as ‘Sir’, in line with Quaker principles of the day. Prior to 1835 he was the largest and most influential coal mine owner in South West Durham. He also owned coke ovens and had vast interests in Cleveland Ironstone Royalties. On June 11 1848 Pease wrote to Hackworth asking him to investigate safety lamps, and any improvements that could be made to combat colliery gasses, namely fire damp and choke damp. He wrote the letter from his residence at Southend, where he was quite ill.

George Stephenson was also a very good friend of Hackworth’s; he had very influential financial backers himself in the Tyneside area, and recommended Timothy to many of these people. It was also credited to Stephenson that Hackworth got the job as Chief Engineer on the Darlington-Stockton Railroad.

Although Hackworth invented, produced and supplied numerous Locomotives, engines, and other machines, he was never a rich man. Because of his Quaker beliefs he was not an ambitious man and the profits from his work were always fair and just, and it is fair to say that being a rich, successful, and ambitious businessman, did not mix with being a God fearing person. Being responsible for a very large work-force, it was widely known that if a local family was under distress, for unpaid debt, possibly brought on through sickness, he would attend the sale for the furniture, buy it then give it back to the family for nothing.

At the age of twenty seven, Timothy married Jane Golightly at Ovingham Parish Church. They started a family while still based in Wylam; eventually having six daughters and three sons, one boy died in infancy, a great sadness for Timothy. All of the other family survived their parents. Soho Cottage, their residence, was high in the family’s affection and all of them, when married, came home regularly. Timothy Hackworth was well read, and a member of the Advancement of Science, which was formed in 1831. Mrs Hackworth was a tall handsome woman, and in her younger days had been a competent horsewoman. Like her husband she was a devout Methodist. This belief caused an estrangement between herself and her parents, who were established church members. However, by the time she married Hackworth, the rift was healed and she became a great comfort to them in their old age. When the Wesleyan chapel at New Shildon was built, she went of her own accord and laid the foundation stone, then gave an address expressing her thanks to God that he had supplied a chapel for them to worship. Later she rode, at her own expense, to get a minister worthy enough to open the church, and when there was a dispute over the lease of the church, she pleaded, like ‘Queen Esther’ for God and the people. She loved all who loved God in sincerity, and she helped willingly anyone who needed help, but was a strict disciplinarian of her family. Mrs Hackworth died in 1852; she survived her husband by two years.

Many influential people, especially leading members of the Methodist Church, and their travelling preachers, visited the Hackworth’s. Timothy would not at any price work on Sundays, even if there was important work to be carried out. Neither would he work at weekends, keeping that time for attending church and being with his family. His youngest daughter [l6] was sent to a Roman Catholic school at Villevorde, near Brussels, to complete her education. Morning and evening prayers were always said by the family. Timothy was an expert dancer, while not doing this in public because of his spiritual beliefs, he regularly taught his children the dances in Soho House, dances like, The Minuet, and the Quadrilles. He also enjoyed music and had a Baby Grande piano at home and one of his daughters played the harp. When Timothy and his wife died and the house was finally cleared, some of the many books in the house were the Family Bible; Book of Martyr’s, Bunyans Pilgrims Progress, an Encyclopedia Britannica and also a great many of Wesley’s sermons. Lighter reading was Walter Scott’s works, and a translation of the Odyssey All of his daughters had different types of booklets of the day in which their friends would sketch and write. In his youngest daughter’s book appeared the following, written by Timothy:

‘Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have the right to the tree of life’, signed Timothy Hackworth July the 20th 1848.

Timothy was devoted to John Wesley and he always placed cleanliness next to go Godliness. If it can be called a weakness, he loved fine glassware and china and always had spotless table linen and silver plate. Hackworth enjoyed singing North Country ballads, his favourite being The Keel Row. There were also songs by Jenny Linda, who was very popular in 1847. After being placed in sole charge of the Stockton-Darlington railway in 1834, it is significant that Hackworth managed to get the most out of the system. Weight for weight Hackworth’s Locomotives surpassed any engine on the line. Timothy Hackworth died in his sixty fourth year, a distinguished mechanical genius.

If Timothy Hackworth were to be reborn in Shildon he would not recognise his hometown. It now has a population of 12,000, and a New Town Square, home to a six foot bronze statue of Hackworth, not very far from his last resting place in St John’s Church Yard. There is also The Timothy Hackworth Museum, opened by the Queen Mother in 1975. Public Houses in Shildon and the surrounding area reflect his life and works: The Timothy Hackworth, Royal George, Iron Horse, Locomotion No.1 (Heighington Lane Newton Aycliffe Trading Estate), and Dandy Cart, Newton Aycliffe.

For the future Shildon has been short listed for a new National Railway Museum, if it succeeds, the stockpile of about 40 historic Locomotives will be housed in an annex, to the Timothy Hackworth Museum, run by Sedgefield Borough Council. It has had the backing of a feasibility study, held recently. It is not a forgone conclusion that the museum will come to Shildon, 30 other towns have also been contacted and funding by the Lottery Heritage Fund is an important consideration. There is some concern that a new museum may detract from the Darlington-Stockton Railway Museum … Glasgow and Cardiff is the other towns short-listed. So it may be, more than North Eastern people who may remember the great Timothy Hackworth, in the near future! Just prior to going to press it was announced that Shildon did indeed get the Museum based right in the Town. The Council is now busy getting to grips with the mighty task of creating the engine Museum; on the same basis as York. A new Manager has been appointed to progress the project his name is [l7]

The Keel Row

As I cam Thro’ Sandgate, Thro’ Sandgate, Thro’ Sandgate,*
As I cam Thro’ Sandgate, I heard a lassie sing,
Weel may the Keel Row, The Keel Row, The Keel Row,
Weel may the Keel Row, That my lad is in.

He wears a blue bonnet, A blue bonnet, A blue bonnet,
He wears a blue bonnet, and a dimple in his chin;
And weel may the Keel Row, The Keel Row, The Keel Row,
And Weel may the Keel Row, that my lad is in.

‘Hail, Tyneside Lads! In Collier Fleets,
The first in might and motion;
In sunshine days or stormy neets,
The Lords upon the Ocean.

Come Englands Foes-a countless crew,
Ye’ll give them all a scummin,
And Myek them a’the day to rue,
They Glibb’s their jaws at Lunnin’.

*Sandgate, Newcastle-upon-Tyne

Robert Surtees

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1779 - 1834

Robert Surtees’s most notable achievement was to furnish historians with his outstanding The History and Antiquities of the County Palatine of Durham. Robert was born, in the parish of St. Mary le Bow, in the South Bailey of Durham on the 1 April 1779; two children had already died in infancy during the eighteen years of his parents’ marriage. His baptism was registered in St. Mary’s the following day and also recorded at Bishop Middleham [TH1] church. Robert spent his childhood at his parent’s hereditary seat at Mainsforth Hall, in the county of Durham. His early memories, which he delighted in talking about, were of happy days spent fishing in Cornforth Beck.

In May 1786, at the age of seven Robert was sent to school at Houghton-le-Spring not far from home. At the time the Reverend William Fleming of Queen’s College, Oxford, was a teacher there. Later Robert would acknowledge him as deserving ‘a grateful tribute of respect’ and on coming upon a monument to his old master in Hexham, he was very moved, speaking of him affectionately, according to his great friend Raine,[TH2] who was with him at the time.

Robert’s first two years at school were spent almost solely studying Latin. He did not start arithmetic until 1788, when he also began Greek. He had an extraordinary memory which stood him in good stead, especially with Latin verse. He also studied general antiquities and the topographical history of his country, even then carefully preserving any documents that came his way. From an early age Surtees also had a great love of old coins particularly Roman ones and travelled to Sunderland and Durham in search of them. When Robert was only eleven years old he was already preparing data for a history of Durham; checking on the ownership of properties, family histories and ancient verse. During his school years, his closet friends were Ralph and William Robinson of Herrington. Robert spent much of his holidays with the Robinson family and would eventually marry their sister, Annie.

Robert left Houghton School in 1793 and was placed under the care of Doctor Bristow of Neasden, near London, who prepared young men for university. It was here that he met Reginald Hebe, the Bishop of Calcutta, Sir Wastell Brisco of Crofton Hall, Cumberland and the sons of the Earl of Manvers. On 20 October 1796, after his time with Doctor Bristow, Robert entered Christchurch College, Oxford as a commoner. A fellow undergraduate was William Ward Jackson of Normanby, in Yorkshire. Surtees’ tutor was the Reverend M. Marsh, Canon of Salisbury. During his time at Oxford Surtees was very studious; he read the classics avidly. Besides the college lectures on mathematics, logic and rhetoric, he also attended those of the University in anatomy and natural philosophy. Although his course of study was accomplished with some absences due to his parents’ illness, as well as his own, he still exerted himself in the composition of what were called ‘Lent Verses’.This was an annual exercise at Christchurch on subjects chosen by the writer. Each verse [TH3] had to be between twelve and twenty lines long. Six verses were usually expected from the competitors and were subjected to the scrutiny of a censor as to their suitability for a public reading. Surtees produced six verses of which four received the distinction of being publicly read - a great achievement. Unfortunately, in the spring of 1782 [TH4] Surtees was called from Oxford [TH5] as his mother had an alarming illness. She sadly died in her sixty-first year, on 10 March [l6] and was buried close by her home, at Bishop Middleham church.

Surtees and his friend Pemberton [TH7] took the degree of Bachelor [TH8] of Arts[TH9] and both became members of the Middle Temple. Surtees enjoyed the advantages of good meals with a bottle of ‘good old Domus Wine’ that this provided. But his time at Middle Temple was sadly curtailed by his father’s death on the 14 July 1797 [l10] . His father was buried at Bishop Middleham beside his mother.

Aged twenty-four, Surtees became established at the family home, Mainsforth Hall, where he embarked properly on his life’s work. The manner in which Robert Surtees wrote his History of Durham was amazing. He never sat down to write but wandered about his garden deep in thought, then returned to his library and hastily wrote down his findings. His mind filled rapidly and his pen could not record his thoughts quickly enough, so his writing was legible to him alone. When he sent a copy to the press, he generally pinned together and numbered the paragraphs but the compositor still had problems deciphering his writing and Surtees was often amused by his efforts. However, with his photographic memory, correction was not difficult.

Correspondence started at this time [l11] between Robert Surtees and the celebrated Walter Scott, Surtees instigating contact because he thought the information in his possession would be useful to the new edition of Scott’s Border Minstrelsy. Through the exchange of letters, Surtees sent Scott information including border ballads, border history and traditions. One particular letter he sent in 1806 starts by quoting a border ballad referring to the feud between the Ridleys and Featherstones, as recitated by an old woman from Alston Moor. Surtees accompanied it with explanations and historical notes. Scott was so delighted with the contribution to his collection and satisfied as to its authenticity that he included it in the twelfth note to the first canto of Marmion (1808) as furnished by his ‘friend and correspondent, Robert Surtees Esq. of Mainsforth’.[l12] Yet it was all a figment of Surtees’s imagination, originating in a desire to find out how far he could identify himself with the stirring times, scenes and poetical compositions, which his fancy delighted to dwell on, and which ultimately, fooled the great Walter Scott. The ballad of The Death of Featherstone Haugh still retains its place in Marmion (vollp.240 [TH13] ) including expressions of obligation to Mr. Surtees and commendation of its authenticity.

Surtees and Scott corresponded frequently. In one letter dated 8 December 1806 Surtees discussed the loyalty and spirit of the clans. Scott’s reply, 17 December 1806, describes his own family involvement in border feuds:

You flatter me very much by pointing out to my attention the feuds of 1715-1745; the truth is that the subject has often and deeply interested me from my earliest youth. My Great grandfather was out, as the phase goes, in Dundee’s wars and in 1715 had nearly the honour to be hanged for his pains, had it not been for the interest of Duchess Ann of Buccleuch and Monmouth, to whom I have attempted, [post lorigo interivallo] to pay a debt of gratitude. But besides this my father, although a borderer, transacted business for many Highland Lairds, and particularly for one old man, called Stuart of Invernahyle, who had been out in both 1715-1748 and who’s tales were the absolute delight of my childhood. I became a valiant Jackobite at that age, and I have never quite got rid of the impression, which the ‘gallantry’ of Prince Charles made of my imagination, and I will preserve these stories.

Surtees was now extremely busy with his history. Alone in the mornings, he spent time in the woods or riding through the green lanes or at his favourite Lough bank, beautifully covered with every shade of columbine from seed scattered by him when he was a boy. He had pleasure raising flowers on a garden wall and passers- by would often see the squire mounted on a short ladder weeding the rough grass from wild pinks and stonecrop.

Literary friends made excursions to Surtees at Mainforth with information for his research. His company was very interesting. As well as being an antiquarian, he was also a great admirer of nature. He not only studied at length the rise and fall of families of the county but also old gable-end properties or dried-up fish ponds; a Spanish chestnut tree, the green inheritance of the Conyers and the circling Tees full of fish.

Surtees’ thoughts were often on the ‘Rising of the North [TH14] ’. He frequently said that many Durham families had suffered severely because of the rebellion, especially at the cruel hands of George Bowes, the Knight Marshal. According to Surtees, Bowes was equal in cruelty to any Duke of Alva that ever existed. Surtees was interested in the part played by the Bowes family in English and Scottish history and sought information from Lord Strathmore of Streatlam Castle.

In 1803 Surtees made a tour to Scotland with his Oxford friend, Sir Wastell Brisco of Crofton Hall, Cumberland. The route taken by them was recorded by Surtees as follows:

Auckland, Wolsingham,Hexham; Rothbury, Alnwick; Chillingham; Wark; Kelso; Dryburgh; Melrose; Dalkieth; Edinburgh; Perth, Dundee; Glamis, Dunkeld, Blair Athol, Loch Lomond; Glasgow and Lanark, returning through Cumberland and Westmorland, Greta Bridge, and Richmond.

Examples of the kind of observations recorded by Surtees on this trip include the following:

Chillingham Castle: The castle unspoilt by the hand of modern elegance, the residence of the martial family of Grey, guardians of the borders.
Rothbury: Resorted to during the summer and autumn months by invalids for the goat’s milk and pure air.
Thrumb: A remarkable Waterfall and a walk by the Coquet mollifies the heart of many a Barbara Allen. [l15]

In a letter dated 4 March 1809, from Edinburgh, Walter Scott wrote to Robert Surtees arranging to call on him:

I am going to London and if perfectly convenient for you and Mrs. Surtees, I am desirous to pass a day at Mainsforth upon our road. I say our, because I believe Mrs. Scott will be my fellow traveller.

Robert Surtees replied on 15 March:

Mainsforth

Dear Sir,

We shall be happy to see Mrs. Scott and yourself, here for as long as you can spare us. If you come by the High North Road, you need not push on to Rushyford for us, but may reach us in one nine mile stage from Durham. I believe most of the drivers know the road; you keep the turnpike to Ferryhill and then, are only two miles from Mainsforth. If you will inquire at Sam Beardsley’s Coach and Horses at Ferryhill on the bank by the roadside, he will take care that there shall be a key lodged for your use of a private road, which is both shorter and better than the public one. If the driver does not know it, anyone will direct you; or if I know your time I would send a person to wait for you.

Surtees and Scott met for the first and last time [TH16] although their correspondence and joint research of border conflicts and ballads continued to thrive.

In the summer of 1819 Surtees and Mr. Raine had to make a visit to Scotland, visiting Abbottsford going by way of Coldingham. In Edinburgh Surtees was especially interested in Grey Friars church yard and the chilly tombs of the martyred covenanters. He visited the church yard often, exploring their history. Surtees met the celebrated Scottish poet James Hogg for the first time when he and Raine stayed at Walkers Hotel in Princes Street; here Hogg visited them regularly. Surtees and Hogg walked hand in hand, as was the custom at the time, deep in conversation about Scottish history and legend. Surtees contacted his friend Walter (now Sir Walter) requesting a flying visit to his house at Abbotsford. Scott replied that he would be glad to see him, adding that he had recently been ill, but saying he was better now and was ‘using Calomel for prevention sake’.

On meeting, Surtees and Scott were like two brothers and immersed immediately in deep conversation about Border history and Border Ballads. On the road to Edinburgh, Surtees had noted a newly published book ‘Wolf’s Crag’ Up to that point authorship was secret but Surtees was aware that Scott was the author. The two conducted deep conversations on Douglas and Percy, and the chivalry of old. The flashes of genius from the two men were amazing. Scott listened to Surtees with profound attention and according to Raine, Surtees was at his very best.

The publication of the second and third volumes of the History of Durham was progressing well when, in 1823, Surtees and his wife decided to take a holiday to Scotland, not for research but for a well- earned rest, visiting romantic places of note. Walter Scott advised them on the best route which took in places such as as Bothwell Castle, Hamilton, Lanark and Cartland Craigs (an astonishing glen). On the second day Scott advised as follows: Biggar, Peebles, Melrose, Elebank Tower, Ashsteel, Clovenford, Selkirk and the rivers Tweed and Ettrick and of course his own home of Abbotsford outside Galashiels. Scott wished them a pleasant journey and fine weather.

During this budding friendship with Scott, in 1815 Surtees had suffered great sadness when Emma Robinson, his wife’s sister died. She was only twenty-one years of age and died on 16 June 1815. Surtees recalled the date when writing the following lines:

But June is, for a reason dear,
The heaviest month of all the year!
And better suits with me
November’s wild and howling blast;
That only raves of pleasures past,
And shakes the leafless tree.

In 1816 the first volume of The History and Antiquities of the County Palatine of Durham [l17] appeared. The second and third were published in 1829 and 1823. On publication and at hi own expense, Surtees distributed [TH18] thirteen of the large paper copies and seven of the smaller as presents – all of which were greatly appreciated. A copy of the first volume was sent to John Goodchild of Bishop Wearmouth, who had been a senior partner in a bank that had failed. He replied to Surtees as follows:

My Dear Sir,

I hardly know how to express my feelings on seeing the very handsome present made me of your History of Durham. Since my misfortunes, I had given up every idea of being in possession of so valuable a work; think then what my feelings must have been on finding it presented to me by you. I shall ever hold it in high estimation; not only as to its real value, but as a proof of your feelings towards me. I was in high hopes I might have seen you at Durham this last week, and could I have spared time, I would of walked to Mainsforth, and paid my compliments, I beg my best wishes and respects to Mrs. Surtees; and wishing you every happiness.

I am dear sir, your much obliged and very faithful servant.

John Goodchild

The fourth volume, although well advanced, was not completed at the time of the author’s death. There was a mass of materials but not in order and it was hoped that it would not remain unfinished. Parts of the Darlington area had remained unexplored by Surtees, although much documentation and oral information had been collected. Happily, the Reverend James Raine, who for years had been a very close friend to Surtees and a valued contributor to the history (in fact responsible for the whole design) was able to complete the fourth volume in 1840 albeit in an imperfect state. Raine laboured without remuneration and suffered great financial loss to complete the work.

As he got older, Surtees did not stray too far away without his beloved wife Annie. On one occasion, leaving Mrs. Surtees at home, he returned quickly recording, ‘I got home without rain, and my spirits recovered wonderfully as soon as I saw Lough-Bank wood; I found all well and invited myself to dine on a roast chicken; a red herring; and a moderate glass of old Madeira. It is nice to see green fields again; Red Beech and Brown Oaks’. When on an excursion to York where he had fatigued himself on documentary researches he writes to Mrs. Surtees, ‘I will promise you not to tire myself again, and to rest like a decent Christian on Sunday. I rest in hope to see you soon, which I most earnestly long and desire. I am at times very home sick’.

Surtees was kindness itself to animals. He never sold his old horses, taking off their shoes and letting them loose in a good pasture and allowing them to die in peace. One summer evening while out walking at Mainsforth, he saw an old pony in great distress. He had the animal taken to a stable, but it got steadily worse and its body began to swell. The Reverend Raine observed, ‘If that was my pony I would do it an act of kindness and shoot it.’ ‘Would you?’ asked Surtees, ‘Then it will be done.’ The pony was at peace within five minutes but Surtees would not act on his own in cases such as this. He once kept a number of sheep but had to give them up as he got attached to the sheep and hated taking their lives. His love for dogs was extraordinary. At breakfast he was always surrounded by his pointers and greyhounds and dogs came from near and far to be fed. When he lost a dog he felt it tremendously; this is evident in his writings on the death of his dog Carlo:

Beneath no high Historic stone
Tho nobly born, is Carlo laid,
His couch the grass-green turf alone,
And o’er him waves the walnut shade.
Within this still, sequestered garth,
   Henceforth shall be his lowly cell;
   No more to see the blazing hearth,
   No more to range the woodland dell.
Dear, lost companion! Memory oft
Shall bring old Carlo to my view
And paint, in colours dim and soft,
The lov’d, the lost, the kind, the true!
Green Erin gave him gentle birth;
O’er lilied France in youth he strayed
Four summers suns; in English earth
He sleeps, beneath the walnut shade.[l19]

Surtees traced a link between his beloved Mainsforth with a Danish encampment that had left its name, Gormundas, in the hamlet of Garmonsway nearby. His love for antiquities urged him to look for historical connections, especially with things close to his heart. There was known to be a large cavity at Mainsforth known as ‘The Danes’ Hole’. Another branch of the Surtees family, based at Redworth [TH20] also claimed Danish connections. About a mile to the west of Heighington [TH21] is a mount called Shackleton on which Crozier Surtees had constructed a pleasure house [l22] , built round three distinct terraces; it is thought to be the remains of a Danish fort.

Robert Surtees had never had good health. By 1834 it was failing in earnest. After a visit to his mother-in-law and great friend, Mrs. Robinson, at Hendon, Sunderland, having ridden from Durham to Ferryhill on the outside of a coach, he appeared to have contracted a cold. Later in the week he complained of a pain in his side; the family surgeon was sent for. He administered medicine and leeches. Unfortunately inflammation [TH23] rapidly advanced and Doctor Brown of Sunderland was called but gave no further medication. Surtees visited his library with his wife saying to her, ‘Annie, I shall never be here again, these books will be yours.’ She replied, ‘So they may be Surtees, and I would never like to part with them, but don’t you think it would be well to send your manuscripts to some public Library, where they would be of some use?’ He agreed with his wife, saying that he would make a selection in a day or two Shortly after he was laid up in his sick bed - a bright sun shining in reminded him of his favourite time of the year and he said, ‘I shall never more see the peach-blossoms, or the flowers of spring. It’s hard to die in spring,’ and recalled his favourite lines of Layden:

But sad is he that dies in spring,
When flowers begin to blow,
and larks to sing,
and makes it doubly hard with life to part

It had been Surtees’ morning custom to watch the blossoms as they came out, and the first was usually laid on the table where he breakfasted with friends. God had placed him in paradise where he had everything to make him happy. As death neared he met it with composure, gratitude, and resignation. His mind had always been happy in never feeling a shadow of doubt about the truth of Revelation and he felt, in the hour of trial, the blessedness of that faith which through life he had possessed; nor had his faith been a mere general acquiescence. He was a faithful attendant at public worship and family prayer. Seldom had a day passed without his little green testament being in use.

At about two-o-clock on the morning of Friday 7, February he said to Mrs. Surtees:

Annie, I am very ill. I should have liked to receive the Sacrament, but I am too ill now to send for anyone, but I give it to myself. Don’t make yourself uneasy as to my state. I think as deeply as a man can think. You know I am blessed in the power of memory and use it in repeating things to myself, Poor Bradley; he won’t like to dig my grave - he knows where I wish to be buried. I pity your mother most, she is an old woman, and has had many sorrows; and she has loved me as I have loved her. I have left you for your life every sixpence that I possess and I hope the sun will go down brightly shining on your latter days.

On 15 February, four days after his death, Robert Surtees was carried to that grave which ‘poor Bradley’ had dug deep in the rock that forms the brow of the hill on the south side of Bishop Middleham church yard. He was buried close to his brother-in-law, Marshal Robinson, and Marianne Page, the niece of his wife, who had died at school in Durham. Surtees had held both in great regard and when alive, could often be seen placing flowers on their graves.

In the chancel of Bishop Middleham church a monument was erected, in Roche Abbey stone, the design of which was presented to Mrs. Surtees by a Mr. Blore whose talents contributed so much to the establishment of The History of Durham. [TH24] On the marble tablet is the following inscription which in the wordy style of the time sums up the man and his work:

Robert Surtees
Of Mainsforth Esq., M.A. & F.S.A.
The only son of Robert and Dorothy Surtees,
And the author of the History and Antiquities of The County Palatine of Durham,
Was born on the first day of April 1779, and
Died on the eleventh day of February 1834.
He married Anne, third daughter of
Ralph Robinson, of Herrington Esq., and by her
This monument is erected to his memory.
His talents, acquirements, and character
Are developed in his book; and in the memoir
Of his life prefixed to it by a friendly but
Impartial hand. His Christian Faith,
Principles, and hopes are best described in
His own memorable Words:

I am very sensible to the hardness of my heart
And of my totally corrupt nature.
My only hope is in the merits of Christ, but I
Cannot hope for His grace unless I strive to
Obtain it. What is our business? To make our
Election sure - to take heed to our salvation.
Libra nos, Domine Jesu! Audi nos[l25]

Stob Cross

Robert Surtees
Then might the pitying bard the tale repeat,
Of hapless village love in ages past;
How the pale maid, the victim of deceit,
Sunk like the primrose in the Northern blast.

See where the ringdoves haunt yon ruin’d tower,
Where ivy twines amidst the ashen spray;
There still she hovers round the lonely bower,
Where anguish closed her melancholy day.
A dove she seems distinguished from the rest,
Three crimson blood-drops stain her snowy breast.

A few fields to the south of Cornforth stands a ruined dovecote, haunted by a brood of wood pigeons. Here a poor girl put herself down for love, because of her traitor lover, and her spirit still hovers round the cote, in the form of a milk white dove. The deceiver drowned himself some years later in the Float beck, and is buried where the four roads meet with a stob driven through [l26] his body, thus calling the area Stob Cross.

[

Jeremiah Dixon & Charles Mason

1733 - 1779 & 1730 - 1787

Jeremiah Dixon was born in the village of Cockfield, near to West Auckland, County Durham, in 1733. His father, George Dixon, was a colliery owner, who, in his own right was a very intelligent and successful man. But it was Jeremiah who was destined to become part of American history as one half of the survey team who laid down the Mason-Dixon line; the dividing line between Maryland and Pennsylvania and the dividing line between North and South in the American Civil War.

Jeremiah was one of two brothers. George was two years older than him and would equally make a name for himself but in rather different circles to those of Jeremiah. For a period Jeremiah worked for Chelsea Pottery, painting the finished pieces. Both brothers were self-taught, learning a great deal in the bait cabin at their father’s colliery at Cockfield.

Jeremiah was interested from the outset in astronomy, and found great pleasure in using the stars to plot accurate surveys of land and shipping routes. Both brothers attended school at Barnard Castle, the same establishment which Mr. John Kipling resided at, as a teacher, a very talented teacher by all accounts. At the school, Jeremiah prospered in astronomy and surveying while George went on to make his name, not only as a painter of china and engraving, but as a renowned mathematician and mineralogist. George was also heavily involved in the process of dispelling poisonous gasses from mines, and became successful in producing light from coal. But it was Jeremiah that went on to obtain world wide acclaim and become an acclaimed leader in the fields of surveying and astronomy.

News of Jeremiah’s exceptional intelligence quickly came to the notice of William Emerson. Emerson was at the time an acclaimed mathematician and writer. An eccentric who lived at Hurworth near Darlington, Emerson enjoyed drinking in alehouses, especially on market days and was known, at times, to not return home for days. He was also noted for being a peculiar dresser; he would wear a home made shirt back to front, over which he would wear a sleeveless waistcoat fastened at the top, he also wore an old hat which had been in his possession for years. In cold weather he wore shin covers, pieces of sacking tied round his knees. He was also well known for his peculiar sayings. When having a disagreement with anyone he would say without hesitation ‘Damn Thee’, ‘Thou Fule Thou’ the word ‘Nincompoops’ was in regular usage by Emerson! It is reported that one Sunday morning, finding a young boy stealing his apples, he brought an axe and frightened the life out of the boy, keeping him up in the tree for about an hour.

Despite his eccentricities, Emerson produced thirteen volumes of books detailing the various stages of mathematics, such as, ‘The method of Increments’, and the ‘Doctrine of Fluctuations’ and was offered a fellowship by the Royal Society. His reaction was to say ‘Damn them and damn their Royal Society too’. Emerson was recognised widely throughout the country, as well as locally, for his genius and the offer of this fellowship was just a small gesture for his contribution to mathematics – of which he went on to accept.

Jeremiah Dixon progressed hugely under the direction of Emerson, not only in mathematics but also in his love of ale! In the Quaker minute book for 28 October 1760, an entry read, ‘Jerry Dixon, son of George and Mary Dixon, disowned for drinking to excess’.

During the year he spent with Emerson, Jeremiah would meet other great men; men like, Thomas Pig, a mathematician from Sunderland, and John Bird engraver and instrument maker, from Bishop Auckland. It was most likely that through men like these, and Emerson himself, Jeremiah would be recognised by the Royal Society in his own right, the past presidents of which were people like Christopher Wren, Samuel Pepy’s and Isaac Newton.

In 1771, influenced by Emerson and Bird, who were both members at the time, Jeremiah was selected by the Royal Society to go to the island of Sumatra (Indonesia) to plot the transit of the planet Venus. This was the first astronomical expedition of its kind, backed by the government. This expedition was deemed so important that funds were made readily available from the government treasury, in order to gather the relevant information, in the hope that the findings would measure the precise distance from the earth to the sun. Jeremiah would travel to Sumatra with Charles Mason, assistant observer to the Royal Observatory. [M1]

The great Astronomer Royal, Edmund Halley, had previously forecast that the transit of the planet Venus would take place in 1761, so towards the end of 1760 preparations were made for the voyage. The ship commissioned for the task was H.M.S. Sea-Horse. The voyage would be fraught with danger, due to the war between France and England, which had begun in 1756, mainly due to the disputed possession of American Colonies.

Shortly after leaving Plymouth, the Sea-Horse was attacked by a French warship, the thirty four gun frigate Le-Grande, and badly damaged. Boarded by the captain of the Le-Grande, and quickly recognised as no threat to the French, the Sea-Horse was allowed to continue its voyage, with the captain indicating that France was not at war with science. Unfortunately, in the engagement eleven men had been killed and thirty-seven wounded, leaving the Sea-Horse so badly crippled it had to return to Plymouth for urgent repairs. This made it impossible to be in Sumatra at the time of the transit. Instead, Jeremiah Dixon and Charles Mason would head for South Africa and the Cape of Good Hope. The Sea-Horse dropped anchor in Table Bay on the 27 April 1761.

On arrival in South Africa, all of the instruments and equipment were unloaded and the transit was successfully observed on 5 June that same year. During their stay, Dixon and Mason conducted other scientific studies, after which they headed, on a different ship, to St. Helena, an island off the south west coast of Africa, where they met with two other eminent astronomers who were also plotting the transit in that area. The astronomers were Robert Waddington and Neville Maskelyn whose observations were unfortunately unsuccessful due to adverse weather conditions.

Mason and Dixon remained in the area of St. Helena collecting data for tidal details and also drawing maps for the Admiralty, after which they set sail for England. On return to the UK in 1762, Mason and Dixon received one hundred pounds each. It is believed that whilst on their expedition, Captain Cook, the great Whitby explorer, had been in their acquaintance although this is still just speculation. However, all that known, is that Cook did study the transit of Venus from Tahiti on 17 June 1769 and that both he and Jeremiah Dixon happened to come from the North of England, and both had similar interests.

After his return to Cockfield in 1763, Jeremiah was requested to go to Kipling Hall, the home of Lord Baltimore whose family had been involved in a long running boundary dispute over possession of land in the developing provinces of America. In 1632 King Charles I had granted to Cecil the then second Lord Baltimore and to his heirs, the province of Maryland. Later, in 1681, a Royal Charter of King Charles II granted the province next to Maryland to William Penn, (Pennsylvania would eventually bear his name). However the Grant of Charter had many indefinite clauses, causing dispute between the two families. This dispute would last for a hundred years; with a long-standing lawsuit in the Chancery Court dragging on way past the demise of the original claimants. Finally on 10 May 1732, an agreement was executed between the heirs of William Penn and the great grandson of Lord Baltimore, and further defined in 1760, to instruct independent surveyors to define a border line between the territories disputed. So it was that Mason and Dixon would be appointed to complete this difficult task.

On 15 November 1763, Mason and Dixon arrived in America; it would be some five years before Jeremiah would see Cockfield again. The work for the two men was hard and dangerous; the Indians in the area were known to be hostile. The method used would be partly mathematical and partly astronomical, showing great advances in surveying. In the venture they would be assisted by an instrument made by John Bird, Jeremiah’s friend from Bishop Auckland, for measuring ‘equal altitude’. This instrument would help them to continue a ‘right line’. Their work involved forming a straight line, cut accurately through miles of dense forest. The lines laid, measured over one hundred miles, although, the path cut through dense forest, actually measured two hundred and forty five miles. During their work, Dixon and Mason, along with their party, were subject to Indian attack, the fear of rattlesnakes, especially in the summer months, horse flies, and mosquitoes, along with other bugs, making their task even harder. The actual work was done by chain (a measurement of distance) and checked by statute yard. Stones marked the first one hundred and thirty two miles, each fifth stone having Penn engraved on one side, and the coat of arms of Lord Baltimore on the other side. The line actually cut through measured eight yards wide.

(Insert Image 2: looks like Indians?)

A story recounted from this time, told of how one day, Jeremiah came across a slave trader fiercely whipping a slave. Jeremiah’s upbringing and sense of morality could not condone such treatment and he asked the trader to stop, or he, Jeremiah, would thrash him! The trader retaliated by telling Jeremiah to mind his own business, so, true to his word, Jeremiah went on to thrash the trader, taking away the man’s whip in the process. That very whip has been handed down the Dixon family for generations, Jeremiah’s sister, Hannah, receiving it first. It is now in the Wilberforce Slavery Museum, Hull.

Eventually, Dixon and Mason’s task came to an end; the date was 6 June 1768: 245 miles from the Delaware river; taking one thousand, seven hundred and thirty seven days and costing the houses of Penn and Baltimore three thousand five hundred pounds. The Mason – Dixon line was complete; this would mark an important event in American History.

xml:namespace prefix = v ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml" />[AM2]

Since its completion, some small disputes have occurred, and some later surveys were undertaken with modern equipment, and it was found that only a slight shift in the original line was found – John Birds’ instrument for measuring ‘equal altitude’ certainly did its job.

Jeremiah arrived back in Cockfield on 21 January 1769, but on the 8 February 1769 he quickly left again for Norway to observe another transit of Venus for the Royal Society. This would be the parting of the ways for Mason and Dixon because Jeremiah would travel with a new companion Mr. William Bayley, and they would successfully observe the transit on the 3 June 1769. This transit would mark Jeremiah’s final voyage and he would be destined to spend the rest of his days back in Cockfield, in County Durham. Once there, Jeremiah joined his brother in completing some surveying tasks, and it was said that during this time, he was visited by Captain Cook.

In 1771, at Cockfield, a panel of learned gentlemen interviewed Jeremiah. They asked him which university had he gained his qualifications, was it Oxford or Cambridge, Jeremiah replied that it was neither, and he further went on to say that his education was gained in a pit cabin on Cockfield Fell.

Jeremiah continued to work within his trade, working on the plan of Auckland Castle, for John Egerton, Lord Bishop of Durham; surveying Lanchester Common and working with the entire Mason family to complete a survey for a combined rail and canal coal carrying system.

Jeremiah Dixon died quietly on 22 January 1779 aged forty five. He was a bachelor and therefore had no heir to carry on his remarkable work. He was without doubt one of the most ingenious men of his time. It is interesting to note that Captain James Cook died in Hawaii on 14 February 1779, one month after his friend Jeremiah Dixon.

For all the talk of there being no women in Jeremiah’s life, in his last will and testament dated 27 December 1779, Jeremiah left premises in Bond Gate [M3] , Bishop Auckland, to a Margaret Bland, with the profits from the premises going to the maintenance of her two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth until their twenty first birthdays, after which the freehold would be divided equally between them [M4] .

Charles Mason returned to America and died there in Philadelphia in 1787.

The Mason-Dixon name carried on in America and around 1859, a new song was compiled, ‘Dixieland’, by Dan Emmett. During the American Civil War (1861-1865) the Mason - Dixon Line became a dividing line between the North and the South and the song ‘Dixie’ was well versed by the soldiers marking that line.

Dixieland by Dan D. Emmett

I wish I was in the land of cotton,
old times there are not forgotten,
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land.
In Dixie land where I was born in,
early on a frosty mornin',
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land.

Chorus:
Then I wish I was in Dixie, hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie land I'll take my stand,
to live and die in Dixie,
Away, away, away down south in Dixie,
Away, away, away down south in Dixie.

Old Missus marry Will de Weaber,
Will-yum was a gay deceaber,
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land.
But when he put his arm around her,
smiled as fierce as a forty pounder.
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land.
(Chorus)

Dars buckwheat cakes an' ingen batter,
makes you fat or a little fatter,
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land.
Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble
to Dixie's land I'm bound to travel,
Look away, look away, look away Dixie land.
(Chorus)

[M1] Insert Image of Mason (Bernie could you please supply an image of Charles Mason)

[AM2]Needs caption (Bernie is the caption Mason-Dixon Line OK?)

[M3]Is this the correct spelling? Bernie, Should this be Bondgate?

[M4]Are we implying that he was the father? Bernie do we know more about this?

Joseph Whitworth

oseph Whitworth’s early life may have given him the inspiration he needed to build the great engineering business that he did. His brilliant discoveries revolutionised engineering; he was undoubtedly one of the greatest engineers that ever lived.

Joseph was barely twelve when his father Charles deserted him and the rest of the family to become a clergyman [TH1]- Joseph later characterised his father’s decision to foster him and his brother as ‘utter selfishness’. Even worse, Charles Whitworth sent his daughter Sarah, to a Bristol orphanage, an extraordinary act for the man of religion he claimed to be.

Charles Whitworth and Sarah Hulse had married when Charles was twenty-one and Sarah twenty-three, at Stockport parish church in Cheshire, on 14 March 1803. The first child, Joseph, was born on 20 December 1803. Their home was a two bedroom dwelling house at the top of stone steps leading from a place called Fletcher’s Yard.[TH2] Later this house was renamed 13 John Street.

Joseph was scarcely fifteen months old when Orchard Street Congregational Church accepted his father as a Sunday school class leader. Even at this relatively early stage of his life it may have entered Charles Whitworth’s mind that a full time position could be an escape route from his fatherly responsibilities. The man most to blame, it could be argued, for Charles Whitworth’s journey into faith, was the Reverend William Evans, a charismatic preacher who had set out to find young men to spread the faith. Whitworth was waiting to be found and was attracted to Bill Evans like metal to a magnet.

These were dangerous times in Stockport and Manchester. There were regular mill fires and machines were vandalised. In 1812, eight ‘machine vandals’ were taken to Newcastle and executed. Irish immigrants were taking weaving jobs for low pay. Charles Whitworth was a reed- maker. If the mob had smashed local looms, people like Whitworth were watched in case they repaired them. The Whitworth family was in constant danger of having their windows smashed or even of being assaulted.

In March 1813, Sarah Whitworth gave birth to a daughter whom Charles, baptised Sarah. The baby, though sickly, survived, but her mother died early in 1814 aged thirty-four. The two [TH3] boys grieved the loss of their mother tremendously, to the point of utter despair. Their father was at a loss as to what to do. His best friend, the Reverend Bill Evan’s had died three years previously. Charles Whitworth took the extraordinary decision to point the family in four different directions, after deciding to take on a post as a full time clergyman. Sarah went to an orphanage at Bristol where she stayed for ten years. The task of finding foster homes for the boys was hard. John went to live in Queensland, Australia, where, in 1830, he married. Joseph was fostered by a middle class family [TH4] He was so desperate to make something of his life that in July 1820, he ran away.

When he approached W. J. Crighton & Company in Manchester for a job, Joseph added a year to his age. He was given a job and stayed there fourteen months. From Crighton’s Joseph moved a short distance to Marsdon & Walker at Water Street, a firm well known for textile machinery. He stayed there for the same length of time. He was already doing the work of a skilled tradesman [TH5] and he would not be twenty-one for another two years. He made a further move, this time as a skilled millwright to Houldsworth & Company, an internationally renowned cotton mill in Lever Street. Later he said that the happiest days of his life were when he was a journeyman at Houldswoth & Company [l6] .

Whitworth left Manchester for London on his twenty first birthday in December 1824. Heading for London via canal, sleeping wherever he could, he met a young lady. She was twenty-four years of age, a bargeman’s daughter from Tarvin, Cheshire. Her name was Frances Ankers. It was love at first sight, and soon they eloped, making their way towards Nottingham, having first of all called at Ilkeston to get a priest to marry them; on 25 February 1825, Fanny Ankers married Joseph Whitworth. Not being able to read or write Frances, marked the register with a cross. The couple endured some very bumpy years together but Frances ended her days reasonably well-off, living near her sister’s home in Cheshire. At the time of this strange marriage, neither Fanny’s father nor her sisters ever thought it would survive thirty, mostly happy, years, but it did.

Joseph Whitworth commenced work in London, May 1825, at Henry Maudsley’s Machine- Tool Engineering works, as an ordinary bench fitter He was one of a hundred and twenty employees. He remained there for three and a half years, where he impressed all with his engineering skills. The company was in the forefront of engineering. Maudsley himself had experienced the cut-throat competition in machine- tool engineering when he had worked for Joseph Bramah. Maudsley’s was the company where illustrious engineers such as Isambard Kingdom Brunel, James Nasmyth, William Muir and Bryan Donkin later worked.

Whitworth remained in London for eight years. After Maudsley’s he went to Holtzapffel, then to Wright’s & Sons then Joseph Clements; at each company learning new skills with machinery. However, he longed to go into business himself and could see the potential of mass production, especially in the north of England. The time he spent in London had been invaluable. He had made the best possible use of London libraries and learned societies and he was now prepared to put his knowledge to the test. He and Fanny packed their bags and booked two outsider seats on the Manchester-bound Lancashire Express Mail Coach. Fanny and Joseph had one thing in common: they lived for the future and hoped for better times, which they both knew would definitely come.

Joseph was now twenty-nine, back in Manchester after some eight years, with a wife. It was the start of the cotton boom and Manchester was growing into the engineering capital of the world. Before Christmas 1830, Whitworth began searching for suitable premises for a small workshop. He had little money and wanted a place with one or two simple machines. He found what he was looking for in Port Street. He took over the premises and proudly screwed his name above the door: Joseph Whitworth, Toolmaker from London.

For some reason Whitworth could not get the business off the ground even though he worked from dawn to dusk so he moved on, after only six months. He found new premises in May 1833, at 44 Chorlton Street. Again he screwed his name above the door. Here he sensed he was going to have success. He hated credit either for his own use, or when selling machinery and this slowed down his early progress. He would not allow machinery to leave the premises unless it was paid for in full.

As well as being centre of the cotton boom, Manchester was fast becoming a locomotive centre of importance and for a short time equalled the north- east of England for production. By now Whitworth was working closely with James Nasmyth, who had opened a workshop close to his own. Fairbairn [TH7] got on very well with Whitworth but he distanced himself from Nasmyth for some reason. In 1847 Fairbairn’s Thames Shipbuilding collapsed. By this time Fairbairn was drained physically, financially, and mentally. Later John Scott Russell and I. K. Brunel used part of Fairbairn’s yard to construct the famous Great Eastern . [l8]

Whitworth talked openly of the need to standardise precise measurement. People said that it would require new machinery, improved skills, higher wages and it was generally thought that many small engineering shops would go bankrupt. It was at Maudsleys that Joseph had first seen a bench micrometer [TH9] in use. Maudsley claimed that his micrometer gave him absolute truth and humorously called it his ‘Lord Chancellor’. Whitworth’s early measuring techniques progressed during 1834-36 and it was then he built his first comparator [TH10] . Knowing fully he would also need accurate length gauges, he set about designing these. His measuring system was fully in use at his own premises before the Board of Trade became interested in them. The simplicity of his system was easy to see, but manufacturing the apparatus took three hard long years. In later years people asked just how accurate was Whitworth’s 1860 gauging. The answer was almost as good as that of 1910 precision grinding and lapping machines.

Each stage of development from templates to drawing practice slotted in to the working practice: the plane surfaces and measurement, then the gauges, and finally the drawings to co-ordinate the whole thing. Towards the end of 1842 Whitworth was producing fifty tons of machinery a week. The number of his employees increased from 277 in 1848 to 636 by 1851. Output increased to over two hundred tons a week. It was during the early 1860s that Joseph first had some contact with William Armstrong [TH11] . For some time now Whitworth had wanted to abolish the use of cast iron for making gun barrels. He wanted to introduce his own breech- loading guns made from solid fluid- compressed mild steel. After 1875 the Bessemer and Siemans-Martin methods would make Whitworth re-think the steel question [l12] .

On 11 June 1855, a Select Committee recommended that Whitworth’s standard yard measurement (the same length as that [TH13] of the Royal Commission) be legalised as the secondary standard for comparisons with local standards of measure throughout the country, and that his standard ‘Whitworth’ foot and inch should have the same sanction attached to them. Whitworth became a member of the Small Arms Commission. He insisted on including in the Commission’s report a proviso that all government contract work be checked against templates and gauges and that each gauge should be numbered on each drawing. By 1856 his workforce went a little further when they worked to three-dimensional drawings (First Angle). [TH14] They further checked each machined piece against Whitworth’s ‘Go, No-go’ gauges [TH15] .

Like Fairbairn, Whitworth often walked to work through Manchester in the early days and was constantly appalled by the dirt that had built up in the streets. In 1847 he produced a horse-drawn road-sweeper. He costed the invention against the hard labour of sweeping the streets. Whitworth attempted to apply mechanical aids to as many operations as possible, thus lessening the burden of physical labour.

Following the British success with the 1851 Great Exhibition, the Americans decided to go ahead with an industrial exhibition in New York, which eventually opened on 10 July 1853. This effectively set British industrial techniques against those of the United States of America. Two years previously Britain had appeared to be ahead of America especially in armaments. A trio of people was asked to attend the American exhibition and report back to England; they were, George Wallis, Principal of the Birmingham School of Art (which included the only school of rifle design in Brtiain), Professor John Wilson [TH16] and Joseph Whitworth

The three commissioners left the Thames on the 10 May 1853, on the steam sloop The Basilisk. The frigate Leander accompanied them across the Atlantic. They landed at New York two days late after a bad crossing. Charles Dickens described just such a crossing to Boston he and his wife had made earlier:

The noise, the smell, the closeness, was intolerable, the sea was stupendous wet, and the decks were rolling.

Dickens’s description of this trip probably deterred more British engineers from going to the exhibition.

The Basilisk docked at New York on 26 May. Whitworth and the others quickly went ashore and boarded a train to Washington D.C. On the way Wallis and Whitworth visited some factories at Philadelphia and Baltimore. Whitworth’s observed that technology and ideas in repetitive production were far in advance of those in England, although England’s tool- making was by far in advance of that of the United States. The proportion of hand-slide lathes was found to be greater in America than England and most had powered cross- slides that were suspiciously like Whitworth’s designs. The machine shops were tooled very much as Whitworth’s was in England.

As early as 1835 Whitworth had been exporting lathes and other machines to Francis Lowell, the largest textile manufacturer in the United States. Whitworth had also sold machines to companies in Massachusetts and Connecticut. The machines which Whitworth saw were the offspring of his own quick-return lathes, worm driven machines. All the machines were in common use in factories he visited. Whitworth was very confident of his own engineering skills yet he wondered just how long it would take America to overhaul the lead he himself had given England. Whitworth applauded American management for running the industry as it should be run.

When Whitworth left America after the exhibition in 1853, he was showered with awards and hailed as England’s greatest mechanic and gun-maker. In 1857 Whitworth was elected a fellow of the Royal Society. But others in America called him a humbug and self-seeking publicist. The reason was that the Whitworth’s guns were superior to those of the inferior guns of the American government. Because of this the generals abused Whitworth mercilessly.

The Crimean War (1854-1856) created a demand for military and naval engineering. Whitworth came up with a hexagonal-bored weapon. The more Whitworth perfected his arms, the more competitions he won - and the more he was castigated. By 1857, after two years experimenting, Whitworth was producing guns which easily out-performed all of the rest and yet the British Army were still using the French designed Enfield-Minnie rifle. A Select Committee was set up to examine why the [TH17] British army had not been supplied with a more efficient weapon than the Enfield. Mr. Hussey Vivian, Member of Parliament for Glamorgan asked why Whitworth’s rifle had been rejected and declared ‘Mr. Whitworth’s rifle beat the best rifles in the French army by two and three to one.’ Mr. James A. Turner MP said on 25 June 1861, that Joseph Whitworth ‘ended by producing the very best weapons ever invented’. Whitworth went on to receive congratulations from Louis Napoleon, Emperor of France. On 23 April 1867, The Times reported that the Enfield rifle had been completely beaten by the Whitworth, in accuracy of fire, penetration and range. Using only half a charge (35 grams of powder) its lead alloy bullet penetrated through seven inches of elm at a reduced distance of twenty yards. A steel bullet went through a wrought- iron plate 0.6 inches thick. The War Department representatives were amazed; it was the first time that a rifle bullet had gone through an iron plate.

During the1860s, Whitworth constructed many field guns with steel barrels designed to act as both muzzle-loading and breech-loading. All were high quality weapons suitable for the defence department including the navy. Although negotiable, the prices were higher than Armstrong’s. A 4.5 bore 32- pound gun cost £400, a 5.5 70 pound gun was £700, his new 7 inch 120 pound gun with a hexagonal barrel, cost £1350. General George Hay wrote in the May [l18] edition of the Mechanics Magazine, that there was no other gun in England that functioned as well as the Whitworth rifle.

Whitworth was becoming a little fretful. He became quarrelsome and said he was not well. Doctors [l19] advised him to rest more but he took no notice. Fanny seemed to get the brunt of all of his troubles. They had now been married thirty-one years but for the last ten, Joseph had spent most of his time at work or travelling. They were now lonely people, looking for companionship which apparently they could not find in each other. They lived at The Firs [TH20] with its long drive and its fifty-two acre estate and farm. Fanny never enjoyed living in the house at all; in fact she never felt right there. Joseph and Fanny grew more and more estranged. Regular invitations to civil functions arrived addressed to ‘Mr. & Mrs. Whitworth’ but more and more Joseph went on his own. Prince Albert himself sent an invitation for Joseph and Fanny to join him and the Queen at Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, in December 1856. Albert wished to try Whitworth’s rifle; Whitworth attended on his own.

Fanny never experienced any financial problems [TH21] at all and settled into a new home, Forest Hall, [TH22] supported by an adequate income from Whitworth. In April 1871, Mary Louisa, Hurst, Whitworth’s second wife [l23] , became mistress of Stancliffe Hall; Whitworth had moved from The Firs. Stancliffe Hall was set in a beautiful estate in the Derbyshire countryside, costing £33,850. At first, Stancliffe stood on a bare hillside without any attractions other than magnificent scenery but with the advantage of a bracing atmosphere. Whitworth transformed this bleak setting into one of the most beautiful landscaped garden estates in England. Shrubs were ingeniously planted for effect. The Chronicle [TH24] newspaper described the result of his work:

The main roads are bordered with wide shrubbery borders filled with a profusion of choice rhododendrons, azaleas and other flowering trees and shrubs, intermixed with spiny conifers, bronze retinas pores and elegant birches. The rocks themselves are light fawn verging into rich chestnut brown and are captured with pernettyas and vacciniums. Of the larger plants occupying pockets on the rocks are glorious masses of white and yellow blooms, gorgeous bushes of gorse, thickets of rhododendrons, dauphines[TH25] and hollies, conifers are everywhere, mostly flame like or pyramidal in outline.

Whitworth and his new wife, Mary, shared a common interest in educational issues. Mary was the daughter of Daniel Broad Hurst, onetime Manchester City treasurer. Mary Louisa had remained unmarried for twenty-one years before meeting Whitworth, almost as though she had been patiently waiting for him. Life with Joseph suited her down to the ground. In later years the couple spent their days seeing to the affairs of both the estates, The Firs, and Stancliffe, as well as travelling a great deal abroad.

When Whitworth reached seventy-three he appeared to relax more and enjoy Stancliffe. The celebrated gardener Edward Mimer and the architect T. Roger Smith rebuilt the house between 1871and 1872. Whitworth was particularly interested in his stud farm and trotting ponies. He also collected paintings, mainly watercolours. His favourite water-colourist was William Etty but he also liked Thomas Creswick and landscapes of the Lake District and Derbyshire.

Whitworth’s health was deteriorating and realising that his latest heart palpitations [TH26] were a warning, he started to attend the Saxon church of St. Helen, in Dailey Dale but rather unfortunately he had a disagreement with the vicar about village education.

Whitworth devoted only a small part of the last twenty years of his life to engineering. He set out his Articles of Association in 1874. These were amazing in their philanthropy and include the following provisions:

The establishing, managing and assisting of schools, libraries, banks, dispensaries, infirmaries, provident societies and clubs for the benefit of persons employed by the company.

By these Articles he wished to supply education for his employees and apprentices. He also wanted to supply the services of a works doctor and medical room. The Articles were passed in the spring of 1874 when Whitworth employed 780 people. His company was also one of the first to issue shares to employees; the £25 shares could be paid for from wages. If, because of sickness, workers were forced to sell the shares, or if they were leaving, then the shares could be re-sold to the company plus interest, at the price they originally paid.

Sir Joseph Whitworth died on Saturday evening of 22 January 1887, at the English Hotel in Monte Carlo. Whitworth was a great benefactor; in his will drawn up in December1884, it was clearly indicated that he wished the bulk of his estate to provide an educational foundation capable of carrying forward eligible pupils, both male and female, to become superior workmen or teachers The amount left by Whitworth and his wife [l27] was £1.8 million sterling, estimated today at £95 million. Taking into account the undervaluation of the two estates, it exceeds even Lord Nuffield’s magnificent legacy.

It was generally thought that on the death of Whitworth and his wife, his company would be gobbled up by his old rival, William Armstrong [l28] of Elswick. This proved to be the case, as on the death of Lady Whitwort [l29] h in 1896 the firm became Sir William G. Armstrong Whitworth and Company Limited.

Joseph Whitworth was buried in the churchyard of Darley Dale, Derbyshire, near a great yew tree which some say is a thousand years old.

Sir Edwin Alliott Verdon Roe

1877 - 1958D

uring the wa [l1] r, Belfast Airport was an RAF Coastal Command Station. From here regular air patrols across the Atlantic were made. Sometimes the patrols did escort work, at other times anti-submarine work. A reliable plane was needed for these patrols, which were mainly low-flying, as there tended to be very low cloud. It was not unusual for planes just to disappear as low cloud dropped quickly over the vast Atlantic.

Early planes were not very satisfactory and aircrews lost their confidence in the aircraft. Then suddenly new aircraft appeared; the prototype of these aircraft having first flown in 1935 The new machine was powered by two 350 horse powered engines having a range of 800 miles, a top speed of 188 mph at 7,000 feet, a cruising speed of 158 mph, at 6,000 feet and a ceiling of 19,000 feet. It carried a crew of three, was easy to fly and completely reliable. This plane renewed the confidence in the aircrews. The aircraft was the Avro Anson. It served the RAF for the rest of the war and for a long time after.

The Lancaster, Shackleton and later the Vulcan V Bomber all came from the Avro company and all played their own part in the war, especially the Lancaster which was a brilliant bomber.

One of the original engineers of this amazing company survived being swallowed up by the Avro Anson. This was Edwin Alliott Verdon Roe. He was born in Mancheste one of a family of seven. His father was a doctor. Roe attended St. Paul’s school [l2] , where he excelled in athletics. He wasn’t very bright at school and left as soon as he could to help his father support the rest of his family. His father did not push the possibility of extra education as he thought that Roe was not an academic high-flyer. He did however allow him to go to British Columbia to learn civil engineering.

After a period helping to survey for a railway which was still in its early stages, Roe returned to start a five-year apprenticeship at the old Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, after which he worked as a fitter at Portsmouth dockyard. He also studied marine engineering at King’s College, London, where he sat an examination for the Royal Navy. He subsequently passed the engineering part but failed badly in mathematics. In the event of this, he joined the S.S. Inchanga as fifth engineer, [TH3] working for the African Royal Mail Company. It was at this time he became interested in flight.

During the voyage his attention was drawn to the elegant flight of an albatross off the coast of Africa. The bird actually kept up with the ship without any effort. He felt sure this was down to the shape of the bird and in his spare time made models of planes as near as possible to the albatross. He then launched them from the side of the ship, expecting them to take flight and glide like the bird. The rest of the crew was rather amused. Initially the models did nothing and fell into the sea, but as Roe shaped his model more like the bird he had been observing, it started to take flight and glide, staying in the sky for a long time, even rising with the under [TH4] currents. This continued to inspire Roe and when the ship docked he decided to quit his ship and investigate powered flight.

Doctor Roe was not very impressed by his son’s decision but was assured that he would work to keep himself, with a job in the motor industry. Roe read all he could with regard to flight and then wrote to Wilbur Wright, the American who was the first man ever to fly a powered aeroplane. In 1906 he wrote a letter to the The Times observing that although Wright had flown twenty miles in America, no one seemed interested at all in flight in England. He further remarked that there was no reason why a powered flight could not take place in this country by the summer. The engineering editor replied that any attempt at flight was doomed to failure and very dangerous to human life.

Not long after this, an advertisement appeared [TH5] in the press [l6] for a secretary for The Aero Club. Although the club was mainly concerned with ballooning.. Roe applied, and despite the fact that he did not have the qualifications as such, he got the job. Roe hoped that he might meet others with similar interests in flying. His first introduction to powered flight in fact was by way of a model. The Daily Mail offered a prize of £250 for anyone who could build a model of no less than two pounds that could sustain flight, propelled over a distance of at least one hundred feet. Roe built three models in his brother’s stables at Putney, the largest having a wingspan of eight feet and weighing five pounds. He propelled the machine by means of twisted elastic.

The actual competition was held at Alexander Palace and Roe should have won a total of £250 according to the classification. However, he wasn’t going to get the cash that easily and he only received £75 from the organisers who said that his entries did not justify all the prize money. If Verdon Roe was disappointed he didn’t show it but instead knuckled down and used the small amount he did receive to build a full size aircraft.

Roe’s first aeroplane was a monstrosity; a bi-plane with no fuselage or tail. The elevator was in front of the propeller, and behind the wings. The pilot or aviator sat in the front of the engine. The whole thing ran on four wheels. The plane was built at premises where his brother, a doctor, had his daily surgery. This aircraft, called the Roe, was twenty three feet long with a wingspan of thirty feet. It was powered by a 9-horse power motorcycle engine. The aircraft was completed in September 1907, when he also decided to compete for a prize of £2,500 offered for a first powered flight of a full size aeroplane. The competition was to be held at Brooklands motorcycle track at Weybridge. One condition was that the flight had to take place by the end of the year

When Roe had completed the aircraft, he found that the engine wasn’t big enough to lift the machine off the ground. Some kind person lent him a 20 horse power French Antoinette engine but alas the engine arrived too late for the competition and his chance was lost. Roe did however try his plane out. He drove it round and round the track towed by a car. The wheels, having no springs, were jumping and juddering on the field and then he was momentarily airborne; this happened a number of times with Roe able to land each time. He devised a system to let go of the tow- rope, after which the plane glided to a halt, most times crashing, sometimes putting Roe in danger. More often than not he had to repair his plane.

The Brookland track manager eventually ordered Roe off the track and he found he had nowhere to go. He finally found a field on part of a swamp land. He spent the very last of his money on posts for a shed. He had to live in the shed and had just five shillings a week to feed himself with. Unfortunately, the manager of the field forbade him to sleep on the premises so Roe left the shed to return later to sleep in a packing case. It was about this time that he managed to fit the Antoinette engine but found it too powerful for the propeller which snapped at full power, until he strengthened it.

On 8 June 1908, Roe brought out his aircraft as normal early one morning; he checked out everything then started his machine and brought it to full power. He used the elevator and the front wheels came off the ground. The aircraft was completely on its back wheels when, without warning, it was airborne. The aeroplane was in flight. This was the moment Roe had been dreaming of ever since observing the albatross in flight off the African coast. He gently eased his machine down. The plane had flown a hundred yards and although there had been no-one to observe it, his aircraft had been the first British aeroplane to fly.

After this great breakthrough, the manager of Brooklands track caused Roe much distress by hiring out his plane-shed at ten shillings a day. Roe had to remove his machine and make sure it was out of sight. The men carrying the plane dropped it down a depression; it was found to be beyond repair. Roe had still not experienced the worst. He was then told to remove his shed completely, within two days, or sell it to the manager for £15 – having cost him £60 in the first place.

Roe had no alternative but to let his shed go; he was now back where he had started. Returning the Antoinette engine to France, all he had left in the world was his 9hp engine. But Roe was not beaten; he returned to Putney where he built an aircraft around his own engine. This one was rather different from the first. It had a fuselage and tail and the propeller and engine were at the front. He made it a tri-plane, with three planes in the tail also.[l7] The framework was made of wood, including the wings, held tight with piano wire and covered with muslin backed cotton-oiled paper, for which he had paid two pence a yard. The under-carriage was two bicycle wheels on forks and there was a bicycle wheel at the back. To act as a shocker [TH8] for himself and the petrol tank he used elastic straps.

Roe called his plane the ‘Bull’s Eye Avro’. With Roe on board it still only weighed 400 pounds but he worried whether the 9hp engine would ever be able to lift it off the ground. Roe decided to test the plane at Lea Marshes, north east of London, where there was about half a mile square of open if rather muddy ground. The River Lea was on one side and a railway line on the other. Two unused railway arches adorned the field in which Roe kept his machine and where he also lived. For cooking and keeping warm he used an iron brazier. The only time he ever left his machine was to go to France where Wilbur Wright was giving exhibitions of flight. Roe cycled to Southampton, taking his bicycle on the boat, to St. Malo where the display was being held.

Wilbur Wright and Verdon Roe had a long talk and Roe was allowed to inspect Wright’s plane. Soon he had to return to England. By 1909 Roe was ready for a trial flight. ‘Bulls Eye’ at first only covered about twenty yards at a height of two yards [TH9] , the plane then tipping over to one side on its wing, hitting the ground. Roe fixed the damage then tried again and the same thing happened. He found it was caused by a gusty wind and he soon learnt to control the plane. With practice, he was soon flying a hundred yards at a height of ten feet. These flights were monitored and later accepted as being the first ever British flights by a British aircraft and a British pilot, over British land. This success spurred Roe on.

Public opinion at the time was that Roe was a crank and madman but in July 1909 something happened to make people think differently. M. Louis Bleriot, the French aviator, landed in Dover after flying over the Channel. From that moment people in Britain started to sit up and take interest. All of a sudden flying displays were arranged. At Blackpool, for instance, £150 was offered to any British citizen who could fly a plane over a hundred yards. On paper it seemed easy for Roe but again fate was to intervene. He took his aircraft to Blackpool and the very day of the show it rained as if it had never rained before. The oilpaper covering most of the plane got soaked and it could only manage fifty yards. He had endured the expense of taking the plane there and back for nothing.

There was further harassment back at the field when the local council considered his trials a nuisance and barred him from flying when cattle were grazing in the vicinity. They eventually barred him completely. Roe just could not win. To further hinder him, his cash situation was desperate. He owed his father £300 and his brother £150,although there was no family pressure on him to repay these debts Indeed, Roe’s family carried on backing him, recognising his enthusiasm. Eventually he managed to build with his brother’s help, a small aeroplane factory in Manchester and actually sold a tri-plane [l10] . He then found the perfect place to practice flying, back at Brooklands in Surrey. A new manager had taken over who was very interested in flight and had constructed a strip for taking off and landing within Brooklands. To cap it all he even supplied hangars! Things seemed to happen all of a sudden for Verdon Roe, and he pushed on, again with his brother’s financial help, to build a bi-plane.

Realising that the 9hp engine was not suitable, Roe bought two 35hp engines, fitting them on to two more planes. Initially there were difficulties but eventually, after adjustments, one of the aircraft took off and climbed steadily. It was when he tried to level off that Roe found that he had a problem. The only way round this, he thought, was to cut the engine speed and allow the plane to stall and drop to the ground. Roe injured himself and the plane was in a bit of a mess too. He thought deeply about the problem and decided that the weight was too far back. When he adjusted the tail accordingly, ‘Roe IV’ worked perfectly.

Competitions seemed to be bad luck for Roe. There was another competition at Blackpool in 1910 and again Roe entered. This time, leaving nothing to chance, he entered two machines which had to be dismantled and sent by train. The packing boxes were in the carriage next to the engine, covered with tarpaulin. Both planes were destroyed completely on the journey, the railway company denying responsibility as the planes had travelled at the owner’s risk. The planes had been worth £1,500 .He would still not be beaten however and within four days built another aeroplane at his Manchester factory, this time ordering an engine from the makers to be delivered straight to Blackpool. He spent all night assembling the engine. The plane was ready two hours before the show and he had time for only one short test-flight. His troubles were still not over; both his tyres burst, leaving him just the rims to take off with. The plane played up. It had not been tested properly and Roe narrowly missed crashing into the crowd, but his skill prevented this. For all his efforts Roe was awarded a consolation prize of £75.

It was

1803 - 1859

1781 - 1848

The Trapper's Petition

Wives

Sonnets from the Portuguese

Home Thoughts, From Abroad

The Keel Row

Stob Cross

1733 - 1779 & 1730 - 1787