Orwell’s North-East Retreat (NZ390226)

A little to the north-west of Stockton lies the village of Carlton, and a few hundred yards to the north of that can be found Greystone Lodge. Astonishingly, this little corner of the North-East was once, briefly, the home of the great George Orwell during what was one of the most important periods of his life.

Already suffering from ill-health, the author and his wife, Eileen, moved there in 1944 together with their adopted son, Richard, following bomb damage to their London flat. The house belonged to his wife’s sister-in-law, Gwen.

It was here that Orwell put his finishing touches to Animal Farm, which was published in 1945 – and highly likely that work was commenced (at the very least in his head!) on Nineteen Eighty-Four (working title The Last Man), which itself was published in 1949.

The peace and quiet of Greystone must have seemed a world away from the horrors of the ongoing war, of which Orwell was desperate to be a part of (but was preclude from on health grounds). But it wasn’t to last. For when he was offered (and accepted) a post as war correspondent in France in 1945, his wife died in his absence on the operating table in Newcastle whilst undergoing a hysterectomy. He returned to Greystone to find her unfinished final letter home from her hospital bed lying on the hall table.

He remained for a few more days, attending to the funeral and his adopted son’s future, before severing his links with the North-East for good. He struggled on for a few more years through ailing health, until his own death in 1950 aged just 47.

P.S. Strange but true: Orwell’s real name was Eric Arthur Blair, and Greystone overlooks the parliamentary constituency of Sedgefield, Tony Blair’s old stamping ground.

Sir Anthony Carlisle (NZ364227)

Old Stillington – the original village, not the nineteenth century creation which jumps out at you from the map of today – lies a mile to the south-west of the modern affair on a quiet back road. Its simple layout has scarcely changed since the time of Anthony Carlisle’s birth there way back in 1768 – a young lad who would move onto the world stage during the course of his lifetime, yet is barely remembered today.

The son of Thomas Carlisle by his first wife (identity unknown), Anthony was apprenticed to medical practitioners in York and Durham, before completing his studies in London and being appointed Surgeon at Westminster Hospital in 1793. He remained there until his death in 1840.

But in the days when men of science dabbled in several disciplines, Carlisle’s mind often wandered. During one such ‘distraction’ he made the not insignificant discovery of the process of electrolysis with chemist William Nicholson in 1800 – this being the process of driving chemical reactions by passing electricity through a liquid substance*. In this case, it was the passing of a current through water, thus decomposing it into its basic elements of oxygen and hydrogen. Just as importantly (for him, at least) he got himself married in 1800, too, to one Martha Symmons.

Though he never followed through with his newly-created science, many others did to stunning effect. Carlisle’s contribution was acknowledged, though, when he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1804 (and served as Professor of Anatomy of the Society during 1808-1824).

From 1815 he began a long association with the (Royal) College of Surgeons, serving as president in 1828 and 1839. He lectured widely and prominently**, and was appointed Surgeon Extraordinary to King George IV(1820–1830) – and must therefore have known, quite intimately, the sufferings of the monarch’s father, ‘Mad’ King George III, prior to the man’s death in 1820.

Carlisle was knighted in 1821, and died, after a long and successful career, in London in 1840. He is buried in Kensal Green Cemetery.

* & ** Because of his association with electrochemistry, Carlisle has been labelled ‘The Real Mr Frankenstein’ (see here, and see also here – and scroll down), and his lectures were often especially graphic – and very popular! He may even be the author behind the 1797 gothic horror classic The Horrors of Oakendale Abbey, which tells of resurrected men and body-snatchers.

Great Stainton’s ‘Paved Road’ (NZ337220)

The village of Great Stainton is so named, one assumes, to distinguish it from lesser known – and smaller – places of the same name scattered around and about the Co.Durham settlement. There’s Little Stainton, Stainton Grange and Stainton Hill House – to name the few I can find on a modern-day map. It is also probably the ‘original’ Stainton, situated, as it is, directly upon the course of an old Roman road – the Great being added in the 17^th century.

The thoroughfare (which no doubt pre-dates the Roman era) runs roughly north-south through the village along the course of the present-day metalled road. It was once known as ‘Stainton-in-the-Street’ or ‘Stainton-le-Street’, being reference to its situate – though, interestingly, the place-name experts would have us believe that the word ‘Stainton’ on its own actually means ‘farmstead by the paved road’ (from the Old English stanwegtun).

An early Roman coin from the reign of Emperor Vespasian (9-79AD) was found in the churchyard, indicating that the legions came this way at a very early point in their occupation of Britain. When the Anglo-Saxon settlers came along and started tagging names to their places, they came to this corner of the region, found a few houses sitting astride a nice cobbled road … and Stanwegtun was born.

Having said all this, the staggered (Roman) crossroads 200 yards north of Great Stainton was most probably the site of the first community. For here there are faint traces of the settlement shown on the early OS maps as ‘Cross Hill’.

Bishopton’s Castle Hill (NZ366209)

© Copyright HughMortimer and licensed for reuse 
under this Creative CommonsLicence.

The prominent set of earthworks known as Castle Hill, near Bishopton, a few miles west of Stockton, is one of the finest examples we have in the region of the classic Norman ‘motte and bailey’ design of fortification.

There is a 38ft high central, circular mound (or motte), surrounded by a ditch and earth bank. Around and about various earthworks may be found, providing clear evidence of a ‘bailey’, plus causeways and embankments (nice shot here). Nearby Bishopton Beck would have fed the moat, rendering the castle an island of sorts should the need ever arise.

Its origins are not known, but most probably lie in the early twelfth century. The site certainly seems to have been pressed into service during ‘The Anarchy’ of 1135-53, with Bishopton Castle being, possibly, the site chosen by Roger Conyers to defend himself against the Bishop of Durham when a dispute arose over the see. At its ‘peak’, it is likely that the fortification was little more than a timber fort – though with an elaborate outlying complex.

Local legend has it that the hill is haunted by fairies, and that every time someone tries to take soil from the site they are warned off by whispering voices. It hasn’t stopped some, though – as recently as the year 1800 the hill stood as high as 60ft, apparently.

Norton’s Quakers (NZ446221)

© Copyright Carol Rose and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

The first Quaker Meeting House proper to be built in the settlement of Norton was on the site of the current affair in the year 1671. Much altered over the years, the present structure dates from 1903 when it was rebuilt in the style of the original building.

What is remarkable, though, is how the religious body itself has managed to survive at all. Whilst some sources refer to the town’s ‘comparatively peaceful history’, the Quakers have suffered anything but a quiet existence there. Born around the time of the English Civil War, the Quaker movement made enemies of both Roundhead and Royalist alike – though the former tolerated them due to Quaker sympathies among their foot soldiers.

On the Restoration in 1660, there was a severe clamp-down on the activities of the ‘obstinate men and women’ of the parish ‘who would not let down their conventicles’. King Charles II sent a party north to root out the Quakers – one Simon Townsend having his house taken (the site of the alleged activities of the dissenters). Townsend and several others were severely punished, with the period of oppression in and around the town continuing deep into the 1660s.

The record books are peppered with cases brought against the peace-loving ‘Society of Friends’ groups of this period. At the very height of the oppression, the Norton group built their first ‘official’ Meeting House on the village green in 1671. Massive fines, transportation and the like continued for those openly flouting the obligation to attend ‘national services’ in favour of their own religious gatherings, but the Quakers hung on until the ‘freer’ days following Charles II’s death in 1685. Though, in fact, an Act was passed against them as late as 1687 barring them from entry into many professions, they laid low thereafter, concentrating on social and industrial endeavours to stunning effect through the Industrial Revolution and beyond.

More information here.

Jeremiah Moore of Norton (c.NZ445220)

July 20^th 1753, died, at his house at Norton, Jeremiah Moore, esq., aged 57. He was the last of his family; and had, in the former part of his life, suffered extreme hardships, through the cruelty of his older brother; by whose means he was carried into Turkish slavery; and at the time of his brother’s death, was a common seaman in the navy, having been pressed in the Mediterranean, after he had made his escape from the Turks. When he came to his estate, he converted it into money, and settled in the north, exercising acts of goodness to all his poor neighbours, to whom he left largely. Having no relations, he bequeathed to six gentlemen, who were kind to him in his adversity, £1500 a-piece; and to his housekeeper, Mrs Ann Kendal, his executrix and residuary legatee, £3000 in trust for her son. All the legatees were enjoined to receive their legacies at his house in Norton, over a large bowl of punch, on the first of March next after his death; and they were required yearly to commemorate that day as long as they lived, it being the day he escaped from slavery.

[From The History and Antiquities of the County Palatine of Durham, Volume 3, p.112, by William Hutchinson]

Will Hay of Stockton (c.NZ446193)

[from Wikipedia]

The great William Thomson “Will” Hay was a famed comic screen actor of 1930s and 40s Britain. As a child, he lived in several locations throughout England as his father sought work, but was actually born in Stockton-on-Tees to parents William and Elizabeth in December 1888.

Will began his adult life as an engineer in Salford, but decided to become an actor in his early 20s, spending many years as a music hall performer – including some time in Fred Karno’s famous comedy troupe. After a long and successful stage career, he broke into film in his mid-40s and spent a short but highly successful few years in the business (1934-1943), before moving (very briefly) into radio. His film portrayals saw him play bumbling authority-figure characters – among them lead roles in  Boys Will be Boys, Oh, Mr Porter!, The Ghost of St.Michael’s (above), and My Learned Friend.

He wrote much of his own material, and was also, interestingly, a highly-respected amateur astronomer (and a Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society, no less). Furthermore, he was one of Britain’s first private pilots (he gave lessons to Amy Johnson) and spoke several languages proficiently. He was married – and fathered three children – before separating from his wife, Gladys. Sadly, he spent the last two years of his life disabled following a stroke in 1947.

Will Hay died in 1949, aged just 60, and was buried in London.

Important Notice

Henceforth I will only post to this blog ONCE per week - usually a Tuesday. Any guest posts by other folk will appear on Fridays (though no one has yet submitted any articles). If you wish to contribute - or for further details in general about this change in policy - see here.

Walker’s Friction Match (c.NZ445189)

One of Stockton-on-Tees’ greatest claims to fame is that it was the home of the man who invented the friction match, one John Walker. The chap in question was born and died in the town, spent most of his days there and, crucially, made his invention in his little chemist shop on the town’s High Street.

Matches weren’t a new idea. The Chinese had a version of them when the British were still in the Dark Ages, and many famous names had fiddled about with the concept in Europe way before Walker was born (including Robert Boyle). However, the self-igniting friction match was something new – and the North-East is most certainly the place where it first saw light of day (as it were).

Walker was born in 1781, and was supposed to have been a surgeon. Not liking the sight of blood, he instead switched his studies to chemistry, and eventually opened up his own place in his home town. He became obsessed with the idea of obtaining fire easily and began experimenting with various concoctions – until he hit upon a successful combination of chemicals and equipment in late 1826. There are various versions of the momentous event itself, but it seems that Walker noticed that a mixture of chemicals he had been working with had hardened on a mixing-stick – and when he tried to rub them off on the hearth, the thing ignited in his hand. And thus the friction match was born.

He didn’t seem to think much of the invention. From April 1827, he sold a few dozen packets of them (complete with a sandpaper sheath through which to draw the match-stick, and called ‘Congreves’ in honour of another inventor, one Sir William Congreve), but never got round to patenting the idea. Inevitably, others copied or came up with near identical ideas in time, and the fortune-making ended up elsewhere (notably Samuel Jones’ ‘Lucifers’ from 1829).

However, John Walker seems to have done sufficiently well out of his creation to enjoy a reasonably comfortable life up to his death in 1859, aged 78. He is buried in nearby Norton.

Important Notice

Henceforth I will only post to this blog ONCE per week - usually a Tuesday. Any guest posts by other folk will appear on Fridays (though no one has yet submitted any articles). If you wish to contribute - or for further details in general about this change in policy - see here.

Stockton’s Stocks (NZ445189)

[From The Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore & Legend of April 1888]

‘Reminiscences of Stockton’ by W.Fallows

Some time ago, I was inquiring when the old ‘stocks’ were removed from Stockton, but no one knew anything about them. The punishment of setting people in the stocks was general in former times, being a frequent order by the justices in Quarter Sessions. We are told by the antiquaries that stocks were used in Anglo-Saxon times, and anyone who owns a copy of the ‘Records of the North Riding’ will learn their use at a very early period, with particulars, also, of the whipping-post, a punishment to which women, as well as men, were condemned. At a Quarter Sessions in 1651, the inhabitants of a parish near Easingwold were fined for not having a pair of stocks in their constablewick. I remember having seen men in those at Stockton, but do not remember seeing anyone whipped. The stocks and whipping-post were at the south-west corner of the Town Hall. I have made a drawing of both, which I remember well.

The market of that day was very thinly attended; the butter-sellers were all on the north side of the Cross, and the corn market at the north side of the shambles. There were a few stalls for the sale of different kinds of clothing and very small hooks; also carts with vegetables, &c. On the west side were all kinds of odds and ends. On one occasion a man got on to one of these stalls and called a public auction for the sale of his wife. The woman was sold for 2s 6d. The affair caused a great noise in the town.

The rage for improvement has cleared away another mark of an old pastime in Stockton. That was a flat stone about three feet square with a pin in the centre, to which in former days was attached a ring with a chain for holding a bull to be baited. This was near a public pump, and on the west side of what was called the Coal Hill, where carts with coals, for the supply of the town, usually stood for sale on the Wednesday and Saturdays.

Important Notice

From this week onwards I will only post to this blog ONCE per week - usually a Tuesday. Any guest posts by other folk will appear on Fridays (though no one has yet submitted any articles). If you wish to contribute - or for further details in general about this change in policy - see here.

Sadberge’s Long History (NZ340168)

The village of Sadberge, a little to the east of Darlington, has one of those ancient-sounding place-names that you just know has a long and interesting history. And it has, though a good deal of it has always lain tantalisingly out of the reach of a succession of local historians.

What is known for sure is that a Roman road, Rykenield Way or Street, ran directly through the place, north-south, and that because of the settlement’s elevation, they probably maintained a signal station of sorts on the spot. Perhaps they even built a camp or a fort there, but no one has been able to find definitive evidence. Rumours persist of a later ‘Saxon castle’ in the vicinity of St.Andrew’s Church – perhaps a stronghold of the Dark Age Kingdom of Deira.

Next it was the Vikings. And it was they who gave the village its name – Sadberge deriving from ‘Set-berg’, meaning ‘flat-topped hill’. It became, in fact, the focus of their local wapentake (administrative centre), covering large tracts of land to the North of the Tees. Its status stuck for centuries thereafter, and became known as the ‘Earldom of Sadberge’.

It was so special, in fact, that it was not initially taken into the domain of the Prince Bishops of Durham in the early days of Norman rule – but was eventually added in 1189. It remained ‘special’, however, and continued to be administered almost as a separate county until deep into the 16^th century.

Today is the blog's 2nd anniversary! 

See here.

Teesside’s Sailing Coaches (NZ452183)

During 1845-6, ex-sailor, Joseph Taylor, struck upon the idea of using sails as a means of propulsion for railway carriages. 

Taylor ran a provisions shop in Middlesbrough near to the town’s first railway station.  In the absence of a Sunday rail service, he used to harness a horse to a railway carriage and haul his family to their place of worship – the Society of Friends Chapel – down the line to South Stockton (the northern end of the modern-day Thornaby), a distance of four miles. 

However, when the climatic conditions allowed, he was seen to dispose of the horse and affix a mast and lug sail to the carriage and glide gracefully into South Stockton at a brisk eight knots an hour.

[adapted from an article which appeared in The Monthly Chronicle of North-Country Lore & Legend of August 1891]

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‘St.Peter-in-Chains’, Thornaby (NZ450164)

© Copyright Mick Garratt and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

What an odd name for a place of worship: St.Peter-in-Chains Church, Thornaby. Well, it’s actually known by its Latin moniker, St.Peter ad Vincula, if the truth be known – but how many locals know the story behind the strange dedication?


The church in question is the settlement’s original place of worship, the site having had a religious edifice of some description since at least the eleventh century. The existing building has its roots in the twelfth century and was originally dedicated to St.Mary Magdalene, but fell from use after the construction of a new church (St.Paul’s) in 1858. However, the old building was renovated in the Edwardian era, after which it became known by its unusual name – though no one seems to quite know why it was chosen.


The term ‘St.Peter-in-Chains’ is derived from the Bible’s ‘Liberation of Saint Peter’ (Acts 12:3-19) which tells of how the Apostle Peter was imprisoned by King Herod, but was freed by an angel the night before his trial. In time, the relic of the Chains of St.Peter were taken to Rome where a church (San Pietro in Vincoli – or St.Peter in Chains) was built around them in the 430s AD. That’s not the whole story, but it’s near enough.


The idea (for the name, that is) kind of caught on thereafter – including among the good folk of Edwardian Thornaby some 1,400 years or so later.

Remember, if you'd like to submit a short article for the 'North-East History Tour' then see the link at the top of the page. Anyone can do it!

Stainsby Deserted Village (NZ465157)

The deserted medieval settlement of Stainsby is a bit of an oddity, sited, as it is, near to thriving conurbations and a busy dual carriageway. There’s not a lot of it left, save for a few lumps and bumps in a field a little to the west of the bustling A19, near Thornaby.

With mention in the Domesday Book and its place-name derivation, the village’s roots lie well before the coming of the Conqueror – most likely being founded in the Viking era (from Steinn-by, Steinn’s settlement). It is reportedly shown as effectively deserted on a 1757 map, with only a single farm remaining, but it is not known when or why it was abandoned. As with many such cases, the Black Death or raiding Scots may have been a factor, but it is more likely down to fluctuating populations and/or financial fortunes.

Basically, the old place was arranged in two rows of enclosures/plots either side of a central track, though the layout was more complex, or random, than most of its type. Being a Scheduled Ancient Monument, it was deliberately spared when the modern-day A19 was laid around 1970. Intriguingly, though, a WWII pillbox was built amidst the ‘ruins’ when the defence of nearby Thornaby Aerodrome was at stake during hostilities.

[The above was based on information at Tees Archaeology’s website + fabulous image here]

Remember, if you'd like to submit a short article for the 'North-East History Tour' then see the link at the top of the page. Anyone can do it!

The Dice Players (NZ430158)

Preston Hall Museum is, arguably, best known for the valuable oil painting called The Dice Players. Usually housed in a special room with dimmed lighting in conditions akin to those of the Mona Lisa, the atmospheric effort of artist Georges de La Tour is one of the North-East’s most prized assets.

La Tour was a 17^th century French Baroque painter who specialised in candlelit scenes such as that depicted in The Dice Players. Both he and his family died in an epidemic in 1652 – the painting in question being very probably his last work. He was soon forgotten to history, until after World War II, when a revival of interest began.

His works, though, were difficult to pin down and/or identify. The Dice Players, for example, was left to Stockton Borough by a local resident in 1930, and nothing much was thought of it at the time. The importance of the canvas was not realised until the 1970s, when it was properly identified.

[N.B. The painting has been loaned out to various galleries of late – e.g. the Shipley in Gateshead – but will presumably be reinstated at Preston Hall Museum on its re-opening in the Summer of 2012]

Remember, if you'd like to submit a short article for the 'North-East History Tour' then see the link at the top of the page. Anyone can do it!

Preston Hall (NZ430158)

© Copyright Peter and licensed for reuse under this Creative CommonsLicence.

The Preston Hall we all now know and love as one of the region’s premier museum attractions was once, of course, a private residence. Built in 1825 to displace the original manor house (which itself was not demolished until 1974), it was rather less grand than the structure we see today. When David Burton Fowler raised the new pile it had little of its ‘modern’ trimmings.

In 1882, the hall was sold by the Fowler family to Robert Ropner, a high-profile immigrant shipping magnate. A Prussian by birth, Ropner spent years building up his business in, first, Hartlepool, and then Stockton (from 1888). He moved into politics, where he was Conservative MP for Stockton during 1900-10, was knighted (in 1901) and then raised to the baronetcy.

Ropner spent many years developing Preston Hall. He changed its entrance from the river side to the existing position, added a ballroom, as well as an elaborate porch and winter garden/conservatory (latter two illustrated above). He also constructed many of the estate’s outbuildings for his staff and servants.

Sir Robert Ropner died, aged 85, in 1924. The family lived on in the house until 1937, and it eventually passed into the hands of Stockton-on-Tees Council in 1947. It then re-opened as the borough’s museum in 1953.

The museum is presently undergoing a multi-million pound facelift, and is set to reopen in the Summer of 2012.

Official website here.

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Ingleby Barwick’s Roman Villa (NZ435150)

In the NW corner of the newly-developed area of Ingleby Barwick lies an expanse of open ground. Beneath the same – and spread liberally under the surrounding houses – are the remains of the most northerly villa of the Roman Empire.

A few years ago, planners gave the nod for expansive housing construction in the open fields to the south and west of the original village. However, before the bulldozers moved in some tentative archaeological investigations were carried out – and they made the amazing discovery. Furthermore, they found a good deal more historical stuff under the surface going back to prehistoric times.

What was eventually termed a ‘Romano-British villa’ was unearthed near to what used to be Quarry Farm. It all happened during 2003-04, and such structures as a heated room, aisled building and field enclosures were laid bare for a short time – until the construction workers returned.

The best bit – a winged corridor structure – was, however, left buried, and a decision made to build around it. The said remains lie under the eastern extremity of the grassed area. The complex is thought to date from c.100-150AD, and may have remained in use until as late as c.450AD.

Further info here.

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The Eaglescliffe Enigma (NZ421151)

Many have often wondered how the now merged settlements of Egglescliffe and Eaglescliffe came into separate existence. Such similar names – how strange! I’m not sure anyone knows the answer for sure, but here’s the generally accepted theory.

Let’s get one thing straight: Egglescliffe (to the south) has been there for at least 1,000 years. And look on the OS map of 1857 and you will find no sign of Eaglescliffe immediately to the north. All you’ll see is a newly-built railway feature called Preston Junction. The railway line which ran through this part of the world was, of course, the famous 1820s effort, the ‘Stockton & Darlington’.

Originally, however, the course of the line was a little to the east of the 1857 (and present-day) affair, and ran through the developing Preston Hall/Park estate. The estate’s owner wasn’t best pleased about this, and made the railway owners re-align the track to run on the other side of the main road in the early 1850s. Coincidentally, another, newer, line was also being laid at this time (coming north from Northallerton), so there was (and still is) a two-mile stretch of parallel lines running north from Egglescliffe. This was quite handy, as it gave the railway developers a chance to drop a new station into the gap between the two lines to act as an interchange – and it seems to have been originally called ‘Preston Junction’. However, due to the inconvenience of having to move their line, the Stockton & Darlington owners decided to quickly rename the spot ‘Egglescliffe’, after the nearby village.

Apparently, though, when the telegram was sent to the sign-maker, he somehow substituted an ‘a’ for a ‘g’ (or perhaps did so deliberately, thinking the instructions were in error), and the name of the new station became ‘Eaglescliffe’ – a place which didn’t even exist at the time! Eventually a new settlement grew up around the stopping-off point which, in turn, adopted the corrupted name.

Well, that’s the story, anyway.

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Durham Tees Valley Airport (NZ373130)

The holiday launchpad we now know as Durham Tees Valley Airport began life as ‘RAF Station Goosepool’ in 1938. As hostilities commenced and escalated in the following years, the airfield was upgraded and renamed RAF Middleton St.George in January 1941. It was the most northerly bomber station in the British Isles.

Raids on the Tirpitz, as well as attacks on the likes of Hamburg, Berlin and Dresden (and many more besides), were launched from the site during WWII  –  resulting in the loss of more than 1,000 airmen who were based there. After the war, the bombers left and the fighter planes took possession of RAF Middleton. However, in 1964, budget cuts led to its abandonment.

Cleveland County Council then stepped in, keen to make a commercial go of a civil airport. It was then (in 1966) that it became known as ‘Teesside International Airport’, and over the next four decades it slowly but steadily grew in size and importance.

A change of ownership in the early 21^st century saw a name change to ‘Durham Tees Valley Airport’  (in 2004)  –  and, it has to be said, a dramatic dip in its fortunes followed. Redevelopment plans failed to reach fruition as passenger numbers began to fall – in fact, from a peak of 900,000 passengers passing through the airport in 2006, the annual footfall now stands at less than a quarter of this figure.

It is difficult to see how the venue can survive as a commercial concern.

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Dinsdale Spa (NZ342121)

On the north bank of the River Tees a few hundred yards to the south-west of Middleton St.George is the spot of the original Dinsdale Spa – not the building/hotel of the name later built on the site, but the spa itself. It was originally discovered, well, let’s hear it directly from the best source I was able to find on the subject… 

The Sulphur Well was accidentally discovered in 1789 by labourers employed by the late Mr. Lambton in searching for coal. The men had bored to the depth of seventy-two feet, chiefly through red rock and whinstone, when the spring burst forth with a tremendous smoke and sulphureous stench. The remarkable qualities of the water attracted the attention of the labourers, who dug a hole in the channel of the spring for the purpose of bathing, and one of them, who had long been afflicted with chronic rheumatism, was perfectly cured by the bath and drinking the water. Though under no medical rule or regulation, the extraordinary effects of the water, particularly in chronic rheumatism and cutaneous disorders, added daily to its celebrity. A cold bath was built in 1797, and a warm bath has since been added. The Dinsdale Spa has gradually become a place of great resort, and the little village of Middleton, a quarter of a mile below the Bath, has been sometimes crowded with visitors. From experiments, a wine-quart of the water contains carbonate of lime 2 grains, sulphate of lime 25 grains, carbonic acid gas 2 cubic inches, azotic gas 1.50, sulphurated hydrogen gas, which contains 2½ grains of sulphur, 8.32. The large quantity of hepatic air is most remarkable, and probably exceeds the proportion in any medicated water of which the analysis is before the public. The separation of sulphur is so copious, that large quantities may be collected out of the channel of the spring. The water is clear and sparkling at the well-head, but gradually becomes opaque as the sulphur separates from the gas. Like most hepatic waters, it leaves a slight sweetness on the palate. The stream, which issues through a very small bore, flows twelve gallons in a minute; neither weather nor season make any observable alteration in quality or quantity. On applying the bulb of the thermometer to the stream as it breaks into day, the quicksilver stands at 52, eight degrees above the temperature of the neighbouring springs.

About two miles up the river are the remains of an old Bath; the water is slightly hepatic and saline.

[from: 'Parish of Dinsdale', The History and Antiquities of the County Palatine of Durham: volume 3: Stockton and Darlington wards (1823), pp. 230-242. URL: http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=76355 . Date accessed: 3^rd April 2012]

In time, Dinsdale Spa fell from favour. It’s potential, however, stretched deep into the 19^th century, with the construction of Dinsdale Station to accommodate the anticipated passenger traffic from the new-fangled railway system.

Nice images here and here.

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A Peaceful Dissolution (c.NZ323101)

Neasham Priory was founded in the early twelfth century for a community of Benedictine nuns. Today not a trace of it remains, having occupied a spot, it is assumed, somewhere under and around Neasham’s main thoroughfare on the north bank of the River Tees. It is remarkable, certainly, for one thing … and perhaps another.

The known ‘surprising fact’ is that it was the only religious house in County Durham which was independent of the Durham Cathedral Priory – an astonishing state of affairs considering the Prince Bishop’s lengthy legal – nay, regal – reach. However, despite many grants, donations and privileges being bestowed upon the institution, the nunnery was never especially wealthy.

Though the Dissolution came to Neasham Priory as it did to most other similar houses, the transition appears to have been a peaceful one. Thanks largely to the foresight of Prioress Jane Lawson, the building and grounds were able to be gently passed into the hands of her brother, James Lawson, a Newcastle merchant, in December 1540. Indeed, it is likely that Jane lived on as a tenant farmer in the nunnery buildings, which themselves seem to have remained intact and unplundered post-Dissolution, until her death in 1557.

Surprising, then, that not a single stone remains in situ today.

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