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We will not insult the inhabitants of this most ancient town by treating it as a mere colliery village, for Bedlington is not only entitled to be considered the principal town in a very extensive coal district, but is also entitled to some consideration at out hands on account of its great antiquity.
Most of our colliery villages have sprung up like mushrooms beside their parent pit, but Bedlington has stood on the top of its hill, looking over to the sea, since the time of its Saxon founders, who must have had an eye to the picturesque. For, even now, surrounded as the place is by grimy pit heaps, it possesses a quaint, old world sort of beauty of its own, when viewed from some of its points of vantage.
For centuries previous to the reign of Henry VIII, Bedlington was a sort of appanage of the Bishops of Durham, who used to levy dues and taxes upon the inhabitants. That monarch, however, deprived the Bishops of their privileges, but the town still continued a part of the county of Durham. Remaining so until and Act of Parliament detached it from that county and gave it to the county in which it is situated.
Bedlington, moreover, is the county town of a shire. It is the metropolis of Bedlingtonshire and is therefore, a place of some pretensions. It does not return a member to St. Stephen’s, but at the next general election it will very nearly be able to decide who is to be the next member for the Parliamentary Borough of Morpeth. Bedlingtonshire was returned as having a population of 8,328 in 1861, but during the twelve years that have elapsed since then it must have nearly doubled itself. And, at the present time, the town of Bedlington must have a population of at least 2,500 or 3,000.
This population may be considered as of a very mixed character, for within its limits are numbered men and women of all classes. Miners and their families are, of course, in a large majority, to say nothing of the men employed in other trades. As might be expected in a place of such size as Bedlington, occupying so central a position, many tradesmen have gathered there and they go in fearlessly for competition with the rival tradesmen of Blyth and Morpeth.
Indeed, in the matter of shop fronts, Bedlington is quite keeping pace with the times. The old fashioned stone houses of 200 years ago are now rapidly giving way to the work of improvement. In their stead are springing up shops of all descriptions, gorgeous as to plate glass and carving and houses of stone of a more modern appearance.
The old industries which made Bedlington a town long before the splendid coalfield which surrounds it was opened up to any extent are now nearly extinct and the weavers and nailmakers of the last century have almost passed away. The weavers have, indeed, entirely disappeared, but nailmaking is still carried on to a considerable extent by Mr. James Gibson who has lately revived that old industry to some purpose. He has built new shops, employs a score or so of hands and could employ more if he had them, only they are not to be got at present.
For a long time, Bedlington was noted for its ironworks, but their former glory has departed and at present they stand in ruins, mere wrecks of their ancient greatness. It is more than a hundred years since the works were first started and during the greater part of the period they were celebrated in the country. In 1757 they came into the hands of Messrs Hawkes of Gateshead who greatly enlarged and improved them carrying them on until the beginning of the present century when they passed into the hands of another firm. When in the height of their prosperity those works gave employment to a large number of men and some of the best mechanics in Northumberland served their time in them. Before leaving the “dead part” of Bedlington to “bury its dead,” we may be allowed to take a survey of the parish church and churchyard. The church itself being one of the architectural features of the district, not very richly endowed in this particular. The tower of the edifice is in the Norman style and though not very high of itself the elevated position on which it is built makes it a very conspicuous object for miles around.
This church is one of the most ancient in this part of the country and its first foundation dates in all probability back to the time of the Saxons. Since then, however, it must have seen many changes and have often been rebuilt. The tower and chancel are quite modern and from the clean new appearance of the stonework cannot have been built more than fifty years.
Upon one of the buttresses of the tower we perceive the words, “Watson’s Wake, 1669,” out in the stone and our old guide tells us that it is to mark the place where an unfortunate somnambulist met his death. Tradition says that this man (Watson) was in the habit of walking much in his sleep and in the year 1669 he was seen climbing apparently with great ease one of the buttresses of the tower, when a man who saw him incautiously spoke to him, which caused him to awake and falling from his perilous elevation, was killed on the spot.
The parish churchyard has been long filled up and since 1856 the people of Bedlington have buried their dead in a cemetery situated at about a mile from that town on the Morpeth road.
The old churchyard, however, is an interesting place. Its stone records of bygone years are now, with one or two exceptions, moss grown and defaced by the hand of time, but are worth a brief study on account of the stories, tragic or pathetic, which some of them tell. One tells how two daughters of a customhouse officer were one night carrying a light on the shore to guide their father with his boat into the mouth of the river Wansbeck. And while in this act of filial duty they both fell into the river and were drowned. Overpowered with grief, the father did not survive them long, for a fortnight after he took away his own life and was laid beside them.
Another stone bewails in touching lines the untimely death of two schoolteachers who were drowned while bathing at Cambois. A third stone is pointed out by our guide as the tomb of his ancestors and we gather from the inscriptions that he comes of a long lived family. For, in addition to several octogenarians, we have a nonagenarian and even a centenarian included in the family record.
There are many other records of longevity about Bedlington, for Mrs. Mary Lorimer lived to be 110 and Mrs. Mary Gallon 104 years of age. One waggish individual, of a matter of fact mind, seems to have had even in death a great contempt for elegiac inscriptions for he tells us candidly that –
Poems and epitaphs are but stuff.
Here lies Robert Barras and that’s enough.
Bedlington has had amongst its vicars many men of note. Henry Coates, who died in 1835, was a man of culture and wrote several works both in prose and poetry. Many of the old inhabitants recollect him quite well and must at all events have been a very original, if not eccentric gentleman. For upon the death of a favourite horse of his named Wheatley, he not only gave him a decent burial but also erected a tombstone to his memory in a field adjoining the churchyard. The stone is dated 1801 and has an inscription upon it which cannot have been cut very deep for now the lines, which were Wheatley’s epitaph, are scarcely legible. They seem to have been –
Steady the path ordained by nature’s God,
Which, free from human vices, Wheatley trod.
Yet hoped no future life, as all he lived
The turf he grazed his parting breath received
And now protects his it must, disturb him not,
But let one faithful horse, respected, rot.
Before leaving the precincts of the church to fulfil the more immediate requirements of these papers, we cannot resist the temptation of quoting one of the many strange entries which are to be found in the old registers of this parish. The entry in question, told in its queer old, early seventeenth century style, is rather amusing and recalls very forcibly to mind Sir Walter Scott’s ballad of “Jock o’ Hazledean.”
Here is the curious statement: -
“James Watson and Jane Ellet, both in Bedlington, was married November ye 27th, 1672. William Grey should have married ye above said woman that same day, but ye above said James stoll away ye brid and red away with her of ye wedden even, soe ye said Grey rod to Harbourn for ye brid, but she was gone, soe ye bridgroom with his men, cam hom without ye brid, whoe had provided a gret wedden and all pople cam to ye wedden but no brid was to be found, soe ye said James had married ye brid.”
But the day is advancing and we must away to overhaul the slums of Bedlington, which is less pleasant work than picking up these few relics of an almost forgotten past, so with a farewell look at the quaint old ivy covered vestry and its worn out sun dial, we quit consecrated ground and are shortly after convinced that this quiet old “God’s Acre” is really one of the pleasantest places in Bedlington.
With an instinct, born doubtless of the long practice we have now had, we make our way to the cottages belonging to the Bedlington Coal Company. Our attention is first called to a row of brick cottages which have not long been built and have therefore the merit of newness in their favour. A walk along the back of the “raw” convinces us that these cottages have really been built with a view to both the comfort and convenience of the inmates. Indeed it would be well for Bedlington if a few more rows upon the same model were erected in the neighbourhood, for few places stand more in need of them.
While walking along the back of the row, we notice that every house has a privy to itself and half of a good-sized ash pit. A projection from the side of each cottage indicates a pantry and a proper wooden staircase (none of your perilous ladders) indicates an upper storey. All this strikes us as very promising and being invited to take an inside view, we accept the “invite” and walk in to be confronted with the usual resplendent chest of drawers, four post bedstead and imposing eight day clock. All of which articles seem to have undergone a complete martyrdom of rubbing.
Upon inquiry we learn that there are about fifty cottages in the “raw,” that they contain four rooms each, two downstairs and two up. In front of each there is a garden, away at the bottom of each garden there is a snug brick pigsty and away beyond these again are the green fields, which divide this pleasant row from the back of the front street of Bedlington.
Not far from the end of this row is the only pit which is within a mile of Bedlington and it is known familiarly as the Doctor Pit. The “Doctor” seems well up to his work, for he finds employment for about 200 hewers, contributes to the coal market at the rate of 700 tons per working day. And such are the ramifications of his inward parts that you can, if so inclined, walk by underground passages from the workings through to the old pit at Sleekburn and from thence to Barrington. To say nothing of one of the big arteries which takes the miner two miles on an underground route towards Morpeth.
Not bad this. And when we reflect that the “Doctor” is, as it were, only one of a good sized family, all contributing to the same profitable market, we may reasonably imagine that Bedlington C.C. is doing a very tidy stroke of business and might easily afford to build another row or two of snug cottages at Bedlington.
Away from the row we have described there are not many good workmen’s dwellings in Bedlington. At the west end of the town, on the road down to Choppington are some habitations in which people dwell, but in which people really ought not to be allowed to dwell, so closely are they crowded together, so badly are they ventilated. So much are they over crowded and so insufficiently provided with the conveniences and decencies of life. Even viewed from the road, some of these houses appear bad enough with their single privy and ashpit for a whole swarm of families.
In one instance we have three sides of a squalid looking square, one side taken up with the ashpit, coalhouses and privy and the other sides taken up with mere hutches in which whole families reside. Space in these parts seems to have been very precious and one way of economising it seems to have been the building of all staircases outside the houses, so as not to encroach upon the limited space within.
These outside staircases are quite a feature in Bedlington architecture. Some of them are of wood and some of stone, while an intermediate class are formed by a combination of both materials, with a slight admixture of brick. At this part of town, and this end of town is no worse than the other end, ashes have it all their own way and a public scavenger seems one of the necessities of the age in Bedlington as well as in Choppington. Middensteads fairly brim over almost to the doors of the houses and if it is thus in the front, what are we to expect at the back?
Without an experienced guide no stranger could hope to discover many of the secret places of Bedlington. Dark, narrow passages that seem to lead to nowhere in particular, have the doors of dwelling houses on either side and eventually land you in a dirty yard, where there is another overflowing middenstead and another single privy for the use of another batch of families.
Nor are these places exceptions to the general rule, for clean, wholesome places are the exception here. You go up one narrow passage after another and you may repeat the dose ad nauseam.
We now reach the main street of the town, such as it is. It is chiefly notable for the great irregularity of its houses, which are of all sorts, of all sizes and it may be added, of all ages. It is a very long street (nearly a mile). It is a very broad street and were it nicely paved and flagged and drained and a regular style of houses built on each side of it, it would be one of the nicest streets in the county.
This, however, is expecting too much. It is like describing the repair of a gun which requires a “new stock, lock and barrel.” As it is, anything more glaringly eccentric than the front street of Bedlington cannot be well imagined. Your giant three decker of a house takes under its lee, as it were, some tiny bumboat of a cottage, with the tops of its ground floor windows just under the eaves. Or some spick and span new house seems to stare down contemptuously at the more humble neighbour of 100 or 150 years of age.
Down a court at the top end of the front street, there are more wheels within wheels, yards within yards, more mud and more ashes. Planted in the midst of all this, is a little chapel, over the door of which is an inscription informing us that it is a Baptist Chapel and was built in 1839. It is a stunted looking little place and has the additional misfortune to be very badly situated, so that it looks as if its growth had been interfered with by the surrounding mud.
At the opposite side of the street appears a very curious erection, known locally as the “Ould Ha,” which appears a curious mixture of a ruined workhouse and a ruined barrack. At some period of its history it must have been a gentleman’s hall and an additional wing had been stuck on to the original structure, something in the form of a keep or an observatory. In connection with which there is a tradition to the effect that it was built by a gang of coiners.
Now, however, this old mansion which at the back looks quite ruinous, is inhabited by numerous families, who live there in anything but baronial splendour. The low end of Bedlington is situated on the top of a hill that overlooks the picturesque valley of the Blyth, which at this part of its course flows through some of the most beautiful woodland scenery to be found in the district. Unfortunately the lower part of the town seems to gain little from its nearness to the river, for we have here a repetition of the narrow passages, crowded ill ventilated dwellings and overflowing ashpits which disgrace the high end of the town.
There are a few more rows of pitmen’s cottages here, but they are old and not fit to be compared with the first row described. Most of them have only two rooms, with a small pantry attached, the upper room or attic being almost untenable. In winter because of the wet and cold, in summer on account of the heat.
There is a fair supply of chapels in Bedlington, but most of them are placed in very out of the way places, as though dissent were rather afraid to invite comparisons with its proud cousin of the Establishment. Most of these chapels are of a good age and it is just probable that when they were built, dissent was not so powerful as it is now and the Parish church and parson had considerably more influence than they have at the present time.
There is a Wesleyan Chapel bearing the date 1823 which seems to be older still, but which, on the day of our visit, could only be approached by wading through a river of mud, the superfluous moisture from which formed a black lake right in front of the chapel doors.
The United Free Methodists have been more fortunate in obtaining a site, for though the shape of the ground caused them to have to build a chapel which is the shape of a coffin, they have “planted out in the clear” and open to the pure breezes of heaven.
Old Mother Church, however, has the pull over all other denominations in the place, for in addition to the Parish Church, she holds the principal school in the town. The Catholics, also, have built an excellent school and there are, in addition, a few private schools. Still, in case the school accommodation of Bedlington should be considered deficient, another Church school is projected, for the worthy vicar doubtless, thinks it far better for the children to be instructed in the Church schools than to have Bedlington saddled with a hostile School Board.
If Bedlington does get a School Board, however, and it seems probable that every place will shortly be required to have one, it does not require a very prophetic vision to tell what its composition will be.
Co-operation seems to flourish here, for in addition to a branch in the main street, the members have another branch down at Sleekburn. The blocks of building which they occupy is their own property and includes a Co-operative Hall, which is used for meetings. Last quarter there were 452 members on the books. Business was done to the extent of nearly £5,000 and a dividend of 2s and 4d in the pound declared.
There is a Mechanic’s Institute in the town, but unfortunately it is not so well patronised as it ought to be. Efforts are being made to raise money for the building of a new one and a good site in the centre of town has been placed at the disposal of the committee.
Our wanderings bring us to what in olden times must have been the market square of Bedlington, for an old stone obelisk stands in the middle of it which has evidently done duty as a Market Cross. As it is, this old square puts on a somewhat busy appearance as we look upon it, for it is Saturday evening. Thrifty pit wives intent on marketing flock into the town and everything bids fair for a good stroke of business being done er closing time by the various tradesmen, who at the weekends, especially at pay weekends, must turn over a considerable amount of money.
The legitimate tradesmen are not to have it all their own way, however, for a Cheap John is there with his caravan and general cargo to offer such bargains, he confidently assures his hearers, as have never before been offered in Bedlington. A galvanic machine is also here and its owner invites the lookers on to try their hands and see how much they can stand.
The marksman and the man of biceps have also been provided for and the benevolent individual in charge of a gaily painted shooting stall offers “nuts for your money and sport for nothing.”
Men of muscle, or men who believe they are largely endowed with muscle, pay their penny and after much premonitory sparring, make a frantic rush and a sudden blow at a sort of patent buffer, which is supposed to indicate the number of stones weight contained in the force of their “bat.”
The shades of evening have fairly set in, naphtha lamps cast a fitful glare over the faces of the crowd in the square and the illuminated clock in the church tower warns us that we have just time to catch the train at the station, which is a mile and a half away. So off we march, reflecting as we go upon the grievances of the people of Bedlington.
First on the list, as more felt by myself, is the distance of the town from the station which bears its name, but which is really at Sleekburn. This is very unfortunate for Bedlington, for there can be no doubt that had the railway come right up to the town, a great impetus would have been given to trade and as a natural consequence, the town would be much enlarged and improved. The inconvenience of this state of affairs is felt in more ways than one, for it has caused the establishment of an omnibus company in Blyth, which on Saturdays run two conveyances between Bedlington and Blyth. Thus taking people away from Bedlington to do their marketing at Blyth, without bringing anyone in (as a direct railway would do) to market in Bedlington.
Much agitation also prevails upon the subject of water supply and the ratepayers at the high end of the town, who can get no water from the fountains, refuse to pay the rate. And the matter is at present, or was till very lately, in the hands of the magistrates.
The darkness of the streets is to be remedied by the establishment of gas lamps, but at present there does not seem to be much prospect of the reform or removal of any of the great sanitary abuses which are a disgrace to the town.
We have only to say in conclusion that if the principal property owners and ratepayers in the district would throw as much vigour and energy into the good work of sanitary reform as they appear to have done into their miserable and spiteful squabble as to the qualification of members of the Local Board, it would be much better for the district and ultimately for themselves.
19th April 1873
We will not insult the inhabitants of this most ancient town by treating it as a mere colliery village, for Bedlington is not only entitled to be considered the principal town in a very extensive coal district, but is also entitled to some consideration at out hands on account of its great antiquity.
Most of our colliery villages have sprung up like mushrooms beside their parent pit, but Bedlington has stood on the top of its hill, looking over to the sea, since the time of its Saxon founders, who must have had an eye to the picturesque. For, even now, surrounded as the place is by grimy pit heaps, it possesses a quaint, old world sort of beauty of its own, when viewed from some of its points of vantage.
For centuries previous to the reign of Henry VIII, Bedlington was a sort of appanage of the Bishops of Durham, who used to levy dues and taxes upon the inhabitants. That monarch, however, deprived the Bishops of their privileges, but the town still continued a part of the county of Durham. Remaining so until and Act of Parliament detached it from that county and gave it to the county in which it is situated.
Bedlington, moreover, is the county town of a shire. It is the metropolis of Bedlingtonshire and is therefore, a place of some pretensions. It does not return a member to St. Stephen’s, but at the next general election it will very nearly be able to decide who is to be the next member for the Parliamentary Borough of Morpeth. Bedlingtonshire was returned as having a population of 8,328 in 1861, but during the twelve years that have elapsed since then it must have nearly doubled itself. And, at the present time, the town of Bedlington must have a population of at least 2,500 or 3,000.
This population may be considered as of a very mixed character, for within its limits are numbered men and women of all classes. Miners and their families are, of course, in a large majority, to say nothing of the men employed in other trades. As might be expected in a place of such size as Bedlington, occupying so central a position, many tradesmen have gathered there and they go in fearlessly for competition with the rival tradesmen of Blyth and Morpeth.
Indeed, in the matter of shop fronts, Bedlington is quite keeping pace with the times. The old fashioned stone houses of 200 years ago are now rapidly giving way to the work of improvement. In their stead are springing up shops of all descriptions, gorgeous as to plate glass and carving and houses of stone of a more modern appearance.
The old industries which made Bedlington a town long before the splendid coalfield which surrounds it was opened up to any extent are now nearly extinct and the weavers and nailmakers of the last century have almost passed away. The weavers have, indeed, entirely disappeared, but nailmaking is still carried on to a considerable extent by Mr. James Gibson who has lately revived that old industry to some purpose. He has built new shops, employs a score or so of hands and could employ more if he had them, only they are not to be got at present.
For a long time, Bedlington was noted for its ironworks, but their former glory has departed and at present they stand in ruins, mere wrecks of their ancient greatness. It is more than a hundred years since the works were first started and during the greater part of the period they were celebrated in the country. In 1757 they came into the hands of Messrs Hawkes of Gateshead who greatly enlarged and improved them carrying them on until the beginning of the present century when they passed into the hands of another firm. When in the height of their prosperity those works gave employment to a large number of men and some of the best mechanics in Northumberland served their time in them. Before leaving the “dead part” of Bedlington to “bury its dead,” we may be allowed to take a survey of the parish church and churchyard. The church itself being one of the architectural features of the district, not very richly endowed in this particular. The tower of the edifice is in the Norman style and though not very high of itself the elevated position on which it is built makes it a very conspicuous object for miles around.
This church is one of the most ancient in this part of the country and its first foundation dates in all probability back to the time of the Saxons. Since then, however, it must have seen many changes and have often been rebuilt. The tower and chancel are quite modern and from the clean new appearance of the stonework cannot have been built more than fifty years.
Upon one of the buttresses of the tower we perceive the words, “Watson’s Wake, 1669,” out in the stone and our old guide tells us that it is to mark the place where an unfortunate somnambulist met his death. Tradition says that this man (Watson) was in the habit of walking much in his sleep and in the year 1669 he was seen climbing apparently with great ease one of the buttresses of the tower, when a man who saw him incautiously spoke to him, which caused him to awake and falling from his perilous elevation, was killed on the spot.
The parish churchyard has been long filled up and since 1856 the people of Bedlington have buried their dead in a cemetery situated at about a mile from that town on the Morpeth road.
The old churchyard, however, is an interesting place. Its stone records of bygone years are now, with one or two exceptions, moss grown and defaced by the hand of time, but are worth a brief study on account of the stories, tragic or pathetic, which some of them tell. One tells how two daughters of a customhouse officer were one night carrying a light on the shore to guide their father with his boat into the mouth of the river Wansbeck. And while in this act of filial duty they both fell into the river and were drowned. Overpowered with grief, the father did not survive them long, for a fortnight after he took away his own life and was laid beside them.
Another stone bewails in touching lines the untimely death of two schoolteachers who were drowned while bathing at Cambois. A third stone is pointed out by our guide as the tomb of his ancestors and we gather from the inscriptions that he comes of a long lived family. For, in addition to several octogenarians, we have a nonagenarian and even a centenarian included in the family record.
There are many other records of longevity about Bedlington, for Mrs. Mary Lorimer lived to be 110 and Mrs. Mary Gallon 104 years of age. One waggish individual, of a matter of fact mind, seems to have had even in death a great contempt for elegiac inscriptions for he tells us candidly that –
Poems and epitaphs are but stuff.
Here lies Robert Barras and that’s enough.
Bedlington has had amongst its vicars many men of note. Henry Coates, who died in 1835, was a man of culture and wrote several works both in prose and poetry. Many of the old inhabitants recollect him quite well and must at all events have been a very original, if not eccentric gentleman. For upon the death of a favourite horse of his named Wheatley, he not only gave him a decent burial but also erected a tombstone to his memory in a field adjoining the churchyard. The stone is dated 1801 and has an inscription upon it which cannot have been cut very deep for now the lines, which were Wheatley’s epitaph, are scarcely legible. They seem to have been –
Steady the path ordained by nature’s God,
Which, free from human vices, Wheatley trod.
Yet hoped no future life, as all he lived
The turf he grazed his parting breath received
And now protects his it must, disturb him not,
But let one faithful horse, respected, rot.
Before leaving the precincts of the church to fulfil the more immediate requirements of these papers, we cannot resist the temptation of quoting one of the many strange entries which are to be found in the old registers of this parish. The entry in question, told in its queer old, early seventeenth century style, is rather amusing and recalls very forcibly to mind Sir Walter Scott’s ballad of “Jock o’ Hazledean.”
Here is the curious statement: -
“James Watson and Jane Ellet, both in Bedlington, was married November ye 27th, 1672. William Grey should have married ye above said woman that same day, but ye above said James stoll away ye brid and red away with her of ye wedden even, soe ye said Grey rod to Harbourn for ye brid, but she was gone, soe ye bridgroom with his men, cam hom without ye brid, whoe had provided a gret wedden and all pople cam to ye wedden but no brid was to be found, soe ye said James had married ye brid.”
But the day is advancing and we must away to overhaul the slums of Bedlington, which is less pleasant work than picking up these few relics of an almost forgotten past, so with a farewell look at the quaint old ivy covered vestry and its worn out sun dial, we quit consecrated ground and are shortly after convinced that this quiet old “God’s Acre” is really one of the pleasantest places in Bedlington.
With an instinct, born doubtless of the long practice we have now had, we make our way to the cottages belonging to the Bedlington Coal Company. Our attention is first called to a row of brick cottages which have not long been built and have therefore the merit of newness in their favour. A walk along the back of the “raw” convinces us that these cottages have really been built with a view to both the comfort and convenience of the inmates. Indeed it would be well for Bedlington if a few more rows upon the same model were erected in the neighbourhood, for few places stand more in need of them.
While walking along the back of the row, we notice that every house has a privy to itself and half of a good-sized ash pit. A projection from the side of each cottage indicates a pantry and a proper wooden staircase (none of your perilous ladders) indicates an upper storey. All this strikes us as very promising and being invited to take an inside view, we accept the “invite” and walk in to be confronted with the usual resplendent chest of drawers, four post bedstead and imposing eight day clock. All of which articles seem to have undergone a complete martyrdom of rubbing.
Upon inquiry we learn that there are about fifty cottages in the “raw,” that they contain four rooms each, two downstairs and two up. In front of each there is a garden, away at the bottom of each garden there is a snug brick pigsty and away beyond these again are the green fields, which divide this pleasant row from the back of the front street of Bedlington.
Not far from the end of this row is the only pit which is within a mile of Bedlington and it is known familiarly as the Doctor Pit. The “Doctor” seems well up to his work, for he finds employment for about 200 hewers, contributes to the coal market at the rate of 700 tons per working day. And such are the ramifications of his inward parts that you can, if so inclined, walk by underground passages from the workings through to the old pit at Sleekburn and from thence to Barrington. To say nothing of one of the big arteries which takes the miner two miles on an underground route towards Morpeth.
Not bad this. And when we reflect that the “Doctor” is, as it were, only one of a good sized family, all contributing to the same profitable market, we may reasonably imagine that Bedlington C.C. is doing a very tidy stroke of business and might easily afford to build another row or two of snug cottages at Bedlington.
Away from the row we have described there are not many good workmen’s dwellings in Bedlington. At the west end of the town, on the road down to Choppington are some habitations in which people dwell, but in which people really ought not to be allowed to dwell, so closely are they crowded together, so badly are they ventilated. So much are they over crowded and so insufficiently provided with the conveniences and decencies of life. Even viewed from the road, some of these houses appear bad enough with their single privy and ashpit for a whole swarm of families.
In one instance we have three sides of a squalid looking square, one side taken up with the ashpit, coalhouses and privy and the other sides taken up with mere hutches in which whole families reside. Space in these parts seems to have been very precious and one way of economising it seems to have been the building of all staircases outside the houses, so as not to encroach upon the limited space within.
These outside staircases are quite a feature in Bedlington architecture. Some of them are of wood and some of stone, while an intermediate class are formed by a combination of both materials, with a slight admixture of brick. At this part of town, and this end of town is no worse than the other end, ashes have it all their own way and a public scavenger seems one of the necessities of the age in Bedlington as well as in Choppington. Middensteads fairly brim over almost to the doors of the houses and if it is thus in the front, what are we to expect at the back?
Without an experienced guide no stranger could hope to discover many of the secret places of Bedlington. Dark, narrow passages that seem to lead to nowhere in particular, have the doors of dwelling houses on either side and eventually land you in a dirty yard, where there is another overflowing middenstead and another single privy for the use of another batch of families.
Nor are these places exceptions to the general rule, for clean, wholesome places are the exception here. You go up one narrow passage after another and you may repeat the dose ad nauseam.
We now reach the main street of the town, such as it is. It is chiefly notable for the great irregularity of its houses, which are of all sorts, of all sizes and it may be added, of all ages. It is a very long street (nearly a mile). It is a very broad street and were it nicely paved and flagged and drained and a regular style of houses built on each side of it, it would be one of the nicest streets in the county.
This, however, is expecting too much. It is like describing the repair of a gun which requires a “new stock, lock and barrel.” As it is, anything more glaringly eccentric than the front street of Bedlington cannot be well imagined. Your giant three decker of a house takes under its lee, as it were, some tiny bumboat of a cottage, with the tops of its ground floor windows just under the eaves. Or some spick and span new house seems to stare down contemptuously at the more humble neighbour of 100 or 150 years of age.
Down a court at the top end of the front street, there are more wheels within wheels, yards within yards, more mud and more ashes. Planted in the midst of all this, is a little chapel, over the door of which is an inscription informing us that it is a Baptist Chapel and was built in 1839. It is a stunted looking little place and has the additional misfortune to be very badly situated, so that it looks as if its growth had been interfered with by the surrounding mud.
At the opposite side of the street appears a very curious erection, known locally as the “Ould Ha,” which appears a curious mixture of a ruined workhouse and a ruined barrack. At some period of its history it must have been a gentleman’s hall and an additional wing had been stuck on to the original structure, something in the form of a keep or an observatory. In connection with which there is a tradition to the effect that it was built by a gang of coiners.
Now, however, this old mansion which at the back looks quite ruinous, is inhabited by numerous families, who live there in anything but baronial splendour. The low end of Bedlington is situated on the top of a hill that overlooks the picturesque valley of the Blyth, which at this part of its course flows through some of the most beautiful woodland scenery to be found in the district. Unfortunately the lower part of the town seems to gain little from its nearness to the river, for we have here a repetition of the narrow passages, crowded ill ventilated dwellings and overflowing ashpits which disgrace the high end of the town.
There are a few more rows of pitmen’s cottages here, but they are old and not fit to be compared with the first row described. Most of them have only two rooms, with a small pantry attached, the upper room or attic being almost untenable. In winter because of the wet and cold, in summer on account of the heat.
There is a fair supply of chapels in Bedlington, but most of them are placed in very out of the way places, as though dissent were rather afraid to invite comparisons with its proud cousin of the Establishment. Most of these chapels are of a good age and it is just probable that when they were built, dissent was not so powerful as it is now and the Parish church and parson had considerably more influence than they have at the present time.
There is a Wesleyan Chapel bearing the date 1823 which seems to be older still, but which, on the day of our visit, could only be approached by wading through a river of mud, the superfluous moisture from which formed a black lake right in front of the chapel doors.
The United Free Methodists have been more fortunate in obtaining a site, for though the shape of the ground caused them to have to build a chapel which is the shape of a coffin, they have “planted out in the clear” and open to the pure breezes of heaven.
Old Mother Church, however, has the pull over all other denominations in the place, for in addition to the Parish Church, she holds the principal school in the town. The Catholics, also, have built an excellent school and there are, in addition, a few private schools. Still, in case the school accommodation of Bedlington should be considered deficient, another Church school is projected, for the worthy vicar doubtless, thinks it far better for the children to be instructed in the Church schools than to have Bedlington saddled with a hostile School Board.
If Bedlington does get a School Board, however, and it seems probable that every place will shortly be required to have one, it does not require a very prophetic vision to tell what its composition will be.
Co-operation seems to flourish here, for in addition to a branch in the main street, the members have another branch down at Sleekburn. The blocks of building which they occupy is their own property and includes a Co-operative Hall, which is used for meetings. Last quarter there were 452 members on the books. Business was done to the extent of nearly £5,000 and a dividend of 2s and 4d in the pound declared.
There is a Mechanic’s Institute in the town, but unfortunately it is not so well patronised as it ought to be. Efforts are being made to raise money for the building of a new one and a good site in the centre of town has been placed at the disposal of the committee.
Our wanderings bring us to what in olden times must have been the market square of Bedlington, for an old stone obelisk stands in the middle of it which has evidently done duty as a Market Cross. As it is, this old square puts on a somewhat busy appearance as we look upon it, for it is Saturday evening. Thrifty pit wives intent on marketing flock into the town and everything bids fair for a good stroke of business being done er closing time by the various tradesmen, who at the weekends, especially at pay weekends, must turn over a considerable amount of money.
The legitimate tradesmen are not to have it all their own way, however, for a Cheap John is there with his caravan and general cargo to offer such bargains, he confidently assures his hearers, as have never before been offered in Bedlington. A galvanic machine is also here and its owner invites the lookers on to try their hands and see how much they can stand.
The marksman and the man of biceps have also been provided for and the benevolent individual in charge of a gaily painted shooting stall offers “nuts for your money and sport for nothing.”
Men of muscle, or men who believe they are largely endowed with muscle, pay their penny and after much premonitory sparring, make a frantic rush and a sudden blow at a sort of patent buffer, which is supposed to indicate the number of stones weight contained in the force of their “bat.”
The shades of evening have fairly set in, naphtha lamps cast a fitful glare over the faces of the crowd in the square and the illuminated clock in the church tower warns us that we have just time to catch the train at the station, which is a mile and a half away. So off we march, reflecting as we go upon the grievances of the people of Bedlington.
First on the list, as more felt by myself, is the distance of the town from the station which bears its name, but which is really at Sleekburn. This is very unfortunate for Bedlington, for there can be no doubt that had the railway come right up to the town, a great impetus would have been given to trade and as a natural consequence, the town would be much enlarged and improved. The inconvenience of this state of affairs is felt in more ways than one, for it has caused the establishment of an omnibus company in Blyth, which on Saturdays run two conveyances between Bedlington and Blyth. Thus taking people away from Bedlington to do their marketing at Blyth, without bringing anyone in (as a direct railway would do) to market in Bedlington.
Much agitation also prevails upon the subject of water supply and the ratepayers at the high end of the town, who can get no water from the fountains, refuse to pay the rate. And the matter is at present, or was till very lately, in the hands of the magistrates.
The darkness of the streets is to be remedied by the establishment of gas lamps, but at present there does not seem to be much prospect of the reform or removal of any of the great sanitary abuses which are a disgrace to the town.
We have only to say in conclusion that if the principal property owners and ratepayers in the district would throw as much vigour and energy into the good work of sanitary reform as they appear to have done into their miserable and spiteful squabble as to the qualification of members of the Local Board, it would be much better for the district and ultimately for themselves.
19th April 1873
