The Hallgarth Tragedy (NZ320433)

In 1830, a little to the north-east of Durham City, took place one of the county’s most infamous murders. Two servants, left alone at Hallgarth Corn Mill, found themselves, apparently, the victims of an attack by a gang of local rogues. But all was not as it at first seemed.

Eighteen hundred three times ten,

August the eighth that day –

Let not that Sunday and that year

From memory pass away.

At Hallgarth Mill near Pittington,

Was done a murder foul,

The female weak – the murd’rer strong –

No pity for her soul.

Her skull was broke, her throat was cut,

Her struggle was soon o’er,

And down she fell, and fetched a sigh,

And welter’d in her gore.

Her fellow servant, Thomas Clarke,

To Sherburn slowly sped,

And told a tale that strangers six 

Had done the dreadful deed.

Now, woe betide thee, Thomas Clarke!

For this thy coward lie;

A youth like thee for girl like her

Would fight till he did die.

“They’ve killed the lass,” it was his tale,

“And nearly have killed me”;

But when upon him folks did look,

No bruises could they see.

And therein lies the clue to the true murderer’s identity: No bruises could they see. Another 28 stanzas later and poor young Clarke was dead by way of the hangman’s noose, his corpse on its way to Durham Infirmary for dissection. The evidence suggested that he himself had committed the dastardly deed rather than the ‘phantom’ gang of Irishmen to whom he had so earnestly pointed the finger of blame.

He pleaded his innocence until his dying breath, the case arousing astonishing levels of public interest along the way. Little wonder, then, that some unnamed local poet should cash in on the tragedy with his lengthy ballad.

Sherburn Hospital (NZ307415)

Sherburn Hospital, 1774

The site on and around the institution formerly known as Sherburn Hospital, a little to the east of Durham City, has a lengthy history. Chances are, in fact, that not even the locals realise quite how far its story stretches back.

The set-up was founded as a leper hospital way back in 1181 by the famous Bishop Pudsey, and dedicated, rather clumsily, to “Our Lord, to the Blessed Virgin, to St. Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha”. It came with extensive lands and has somehow managed to survive all that has been thrown at it since.

The Dissolution was the biggest hurdle, of course – but limp through the troublesome days of Henry VIII it did, re-establishing itself as “Christ’s Hospital in Sherburn” in 1585. In time, and with the discovery of coal reserves under its associated lands, it became very rich and was able to expand considerably during the Victorian era – branching into education, for one thing. It became what we would recognise as a ‘modern’ hospital during the 1860s-70s following construction work – though there were only 35 beds initially. However, a dispensary administered treatment extensively to the poor of the parish free of charge.

In time, its mode of operation shifted, having spent the past several decades as a care home of sorts, whilst providing financial support to establishments across the county – it closed as a hospital shortly after WWII with the birth of the NHS. It is now a pleasant enclave of Listed Buildings set around a grass court with fine gardens – the old hospital chapel being the only twelfth century survival.

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In the News: the 1970s