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Showing posts with label Cheshire Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cheshire Life. Show all posts

Monday, October 11, 2010

Friedrich Engels, the Cheshire Hunt, the Red Dragon & me


MY CONNECTIONS WITH THE ORIGINS OF COMMUNISM

In my post of June 10, 2010 ‘Fox Hunting and the Point to Points’, I sketched the emergence of two of the modern mainstays of life in rural Cheshire and illustrated how new and synthetic this culture really is.

I mentioned that when the original Hunt Club was founded in 1762 in Tarporley, Cheshire it started off with hare coursing (i.e. using beagle hounds) and that it was only prosperity, farm consolidation and the widespread introduction and proper maintenance of hawthorn hedges that made fox hunting viable.

I also quoted from a poem or ballad called ‘Farmer Dobbin’ written by Rowland Eyles Egerton-Warburton and published in 1853. This was almost certainly first recited to the assembled members of the Cheshire Hunt at a banquet in the Hunt Room of the Swan Inn in Tarporley.

The poem celebrates the acceptance of a new stratum of prosperous local dairy farmers into the Hunt and it mocks the brash young men of Manchester and Liverpool for moving off too early before the fox started from its cover.

Well, you may be more than a little surprised to learn that one of the world’s most important revolutionary thinkers, Friedrich Engels, may well have been one of the offenders in taking up the chase prematurely.

In 1850, Engels returned to England to assist in the management of the sewing thread mill that was part-owned by his father. The Ermen and Engel’s mill was located at Weaste in Salford and Friedrich started by keeping the accounts, while later becoming a full partner.

Fox hunting with the Cheshire Hounds was one of his weekend hobbies in the autumn.

And in my post of August 11, 2010, ‘Who Do You Think You Are – and what were they worth?’ I mentioned that my great, great grandfather Walter Shorrocks, who was a Brush Manufacturer in Salford, lived near to the Crescent Pub in Salford (formerly the Red Dragon) where Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels once drank and discussed revolution and the theory of Communism.

So, I couldn’t let these connections pass without further comment.

Quite possibly, Friedrich (born 1820) may have crossed urban alleyways then with my great great grandfather Walter (born 1824) in Salford, and country lanes with my Cheshire farming step family (Abraham Darlington the elder born 1805 and his son, another Abraham, who was my great grandfather, born 1841).

And the covert revolutionary may have shared drinks with the Shorrocks’ in the Red Dragon and the Darlingtons in the Swan Inn.

So I’ll take the opportunity to say more about Friedrich Engels and his life in North West England.

SALFORD PAYS TRIBUTE TO ITS FAMOUS ADOPTED SON

According to a colourful article in Salford Star (No 6: Winter 2007) on Friedrich Engels:

“Fred Engels is the most famous person who ever lived in Salford.

And when he settled in Salford, at the age of 22, he was on the ale every night, copping off with local girls and stirring up all sorts of trouble. He was the original angry young man, slagging off developers, the council, the capitalists and the conditions that working class people were living in.

Born in Barmen, Germany, in 1820, young Fred was a major trouble maker after he discovered politics, so his dad – a rich mill owner – packed him off to Salford when he was 22 to work for the family's joint owned Ermen and Engels' Victoria Mill in Weaste, which made sewing threads.

By this time Fred already spoke 25 languages, was a top horseman, swordsman, swimmer, skater, artist, journalist, composer and philosopher – well, there was no telly in those days. And he'd published loads of political articles, stirring it up in his home town and prompting his dad to write:

"I have a son at home who is like a scabby sheep in a flock…"

Fred copped off with a young Irish girl called Mary Burns, who probably worked at his dad's mill, and she took him out at night in disguise so that he wouldn't get his German bourgeois head kicked in.

After twenty months Fred went home and wrote The Condition of the Working Class in England 1844 (published 1845). It was"dedicated to the working classes of Great Britain" but wasn't available in English until 1892. The explosive book described in intimate detail, street after street, the total squalor that working people were living in, based on what he'd seen in Salford and Manchester.

But he didn't just write about the conditions, and his hatred for the ruling class that allowed working people to live like that. Once back in Germany he got his sword out and took part in the revolutionary uprising against the Prussian army.

It was after this, in 1848, that Fred and Karl Marx wrote The Communist Manifesto urging a worldwide socialist revolution.

With the authorities after him, Fred took refuge in Switzerland before arriving back at his dad's factory in 1850, exiled in Salford. He stayed for 19 years. This time, Fred was under surveillance from the secret police, and had `official' homes and `unofficial homes' all over inner city Manchester where he lived with Mary under false names to confuse the cops.

While Fred was in Salford and Manchester, Karl Marx used to come and visit him at least once every year. They would sit for hours researching in Chetham's Library – and then go drinking for hours in pubs all over town – possibly the Crescent and The Grapes in Salford, and the Gold Cup and Coach and Horses in Manchester”.

THE STORY CONTINUES

During the 19 years that Friedrich spent in Manchester and Salford on the management team of Ermen and Engels, he enjoyed all the perks associated with his growing wealth (he became a partner in 1864) - and as I mentioned above, he rode with the Cheshire Hounds.

And at the same time, he maintained two homes in Manchester so he could continue to enjoy the beds and domesticity offered by two Irish working class sisters Mary and Lizzie Burns.

But he also supported Karl Marx. Drawing on his salary and profits, it is estimated that Engels provided at least £35,000 a year at today’s prices until Marx’s death, to enable Marx to keep up a middle class lifestyle, especially for his three daughters.

In 1870, Engels moved to London where he and Marx lived until Marx's death in 1883. He died in England in 1895.

Fellow politicians regarded Engels as a "ruthless party tactician", "brutal ideologue", and a "master tactician" when it came to purging rivals in political organizations.

However, he was also seen as a "gregarious", "bighearted", and "jovial man of outsize appetites", who was referred to by his son-in-law as "the great beheader of champagne bottles”. At his regular Sunday parties for London’s left-wing intelligentsia it seems that "no one left before 2 or 3 in the morning."

His stated personal motto was "take it easy", while "jollity" was listed as his favorite virtue.

When Engels died in 1895 he left more than £2m in stocks and shares in today’s money. In the cellar of his grand Primrose Hill four-story house he had £20,000 pounds worth of fine wines and more stored with his merchant.

Unconcerned that this wealth compromised his communist convictions, he apparently argued that:

“the stock exchange simply adjusts the distribution of surplus value already stolen from the workers” and that it was possible to both dabble on the stock market and be a socialist”.

And he promised a “fine reception” for anyone who came to him seeking an apology for being a boss of a manufacturing firm.

SOME FURTHER QUOTES:

"To get the most out of life you must be active, you must live and you must have the courage to taste the thrill of being young”.

"I once went into Manchester with a bourgeois and spoke to him of the bad, unwholesome method of building, the frightful conditions of the working people's quarters…The man listened quietly and said when we parted `And yet there is a great deal of money to be made here; Good Morning Sir’.

"All the conditions of life are measured by money - and what brings no money is (judged) nonsense, unpractical idealistic bosh!"

"If we cross the Irwell to Salford, we find…one large working men's quarter, penetrated by a single wide avenue…All Salford is built in courts or narrow lanes, so narrow, that they remind me of the narrowest I have ever seen, the little lanes of Genoa….The working men's dwellings between Oldfield Road and Cross Lane…vie with the dwellings of the Old Town in filth and overcrowding.

In this district I found a man, apparently about 60 years old, living in a cow stable...which had neither windows and floor, nor ceiling… and lived there, though the rain dripped through his rotten roof. This man was too old and weak for regular work, and supported himself by removing manure with a hand-cart; the dung heaps lay next door to his palace.

The working people live, almost all of them, in wretched, damp, filthy cottages…the streets which surround them are usually in the most miserable and filthy condition, laid out without the slightest reference to ventilation, with reference solely to the profit secured by the contractor…"

"I forsook the company and the dinner-parties, the port-wine and champagne of the middle classes, and devoted my leisure-hours almost exclusively to the intercourse with plain working men; I am both glad and proud of having done so’

Glad, because thus I was induced to spend many a happy hour, which else would have been wasted in fashionable talk and tiresome etiquette ...."

"(I am) proud because I thus got an opportunity of doing justice to an oppressed and calumniated class of men who with all their faults and under all the disadvantages of their situation, yet command the respect of everyone but an English money-monger ..."

"A class which bears all the disadvantages of the social order without enjoying its advantages…Who can demand that such a class respect this social order?"

"Exploitation is the basic evil which the social revolution strives to abolish, by abolishing the capitalist mode of production."

"Urban authorities…almost everywhere in England are recognised centres of corruption of all kinds, nepotism and jobbery – the exploitation of public office to the private advantage of the official or his family."

"The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles…”

"Let the ruling classes tremble at a Communistic revolution. The proletariat have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win - Working Men of All Countries, Unite!"

1861 CENSUS

Frederick Engels

Age 40
Estimated Year of Birth 1821
Relationship to Head of Household Lodger
Occupation Merchant
Address 6, Thorncliffe Grove
District Chorlton, Chorlton-Upon-Medlock
Parish Chorlton Upon Medlock
Administrative County Lancashire
Birth Place Prussia

[Lodger with Charles Lee, wife Ann (children Sarah 16, Charles 14, William 7, Emily 5 and Bertha 4)]

Walter Shorrocks (my great, great grandfather)

Age 37
Estimated Year of Birth 1824
Relationship to Head of Household Head
Occupation Brushmaker employing 3 men and 1 boy
Address 21 Islington Street
District Greengate
Parish Salford
Administrative County Lancashire
Birth Place
Birth County Lancashire

Abraham Darlington (my step great, great grandfather)

Age 56
Estimated Year of Birth 1805
Relationship to Head of Household Head
Occupation Farmer of...acres
Address Aston Green
District Nantwich, Nantwich
Parish Aston Juxta Mondrum
Administrative County Cheshire
Birth Place
Birth County Cheshire

[Son Abraham 20 years old born 1841 – good candidate for riding with the Cheshire Hounds c1860]

FOOTNOTE

I have also (once only) hunted with the Cheshire Hounds.

When I was about 10 years old, I badgered my mother and step father to be able to join the Meet of the Hounds at Calveley Hall Gates. I rode my overweight and normally ponderous pony Jonty (see photo below) - who however became a stampeding steed in the rush of horses.

Narrowly avoiding being maimed and crushed (parents were more stoic about risks and injuries in those days), I survived being dragged through a disintegrating post and rail fence in the fields between Calveley and Wettenhall.

This prematurely and permanently ended my enthusiasm for the sport!

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Edward Gibbon Wakefield’s less than admiring father-in-law and the Great Reform Act


BACK TO NORTH WEST ENGLAND

To round off my posts on Edward Gibbon Wakefield, I want to return to his Cheshire and English connections.

These bring us back briefly to his underage heiress Ellen Turner, before turning to the political context of the election of her father William Turner as Member of Parliament for Blackburn in Lancashire. This also gives me an opportunity to make a comment on the overlap between English and Kiwi history.

Well, first to Ellen, who was described by observers as ‘a fine big romping girl - very womanly for her youthful years’.

Prior to her abduction by the Wakefield family, there had been a rumour that Ellen's matrimonial destiny lay not in the peerage, but among the local gentry: Thomas Legh of Lyme Hall "who possesses immense estates in Cheshire ...was on the point of paying his addresses to Miss Turner when she was carried off".

Magnanimously, Thomas Legh put aside any notion of Ellen’s possible defloration at the hands of Wakefield and their marriage took place on the 14th January 1828.

She was apparently a "youthful and lovely bride" in a magnificent silk wedding dress, and The Times noted that, with the union, "Wakefield may bid adieu to her fortune".

Back in 1960, I remember running in the Northern Schools Cross Country race across Lyme Park. It is magnificent and I can imagine Ellen enjoying the fine prospects and hilly slopes. Sadly I came about 123rd out of a field of around 600 runners in the race (but from my current vantage point in time, this doesn’t seem so bad).

Of Ellen, it would be nice to report that having met her charming and wealthy ‘Mr Darcy’, she went on to populate Lyme Park with (as the medieval chronicles report of the family) ‘as many Leghs as fleas’.

The reality though was much more gritty and representative of women’s real lives in the 19th century. She died three years after her marriage, in excruciating agony as the afterbirth from her third pregnancy failed to clear and she suffered septic shock - just short of her twentieth birthday.

WILLIAM TURNER AND THE STRUGGLE IN ENGLAND FOR DEMOCRACY

The Tory Duke of Wellington had become Britain’s Prime Minister in 1828 and served for two years, until the death of George IV on the 26th June 1830. The ‘Iron Duke’ as he had become known during his campaigns against Napoleon was an aristocratic authoritarian who had little respect for what he would have regarded as the Common People. He even called his long-suffering English soldiers ‘the scum of the earth’.

On the 23rd July 1830 Wellington dissolved Parliament and a General Election was called. After the counting the Whigs had gained 83 seats but that still left the Tories with a majority. The results though were badly warped by the peculiarities and inequities of the old parliamentary system where the constituency boundaries and electors lists were a ramshackle legacy from the Middle Ages.

On the 15th of November 1830 Wellington was defeated on a motion to examine the accounts of the Civil List, by 233 votes to 204, the following day he resigned and the Whig, Charles 2nd Earl Grey was asked to form a government.

In March 1831 Lord Russell outlined a Parliamentary Reform Bill to the House of Commons and on the 23rd of March the Bill was passed by just one vote. However, the House of Lords rejected the Bill and Earl Grey dissolved Parliament on April 23rd.

After fresh elections held between April and June the Whigs were returned with a majority of 136 and the Reform Bill was reintroduced, and again passed by the Commons by 367 to 231.

In October the House of Lords once again rejected it.

After this show of obduracy and defiance by the Lords, rioting occurred throughout the country.

For the third time on the December 12th the Commons passed the Reform Bill, only to see it fail once more in the Lords.

Drastic action was now needed if the Bill was to be passed and the King was asked to create enough Whig peers to see the Bill through. This however was not necessary, as the Tories who did not relish the idea of more Whig Peers the majority abstained and the bill was passed by 106 to 22, thus allowing the Bill to become law, and so, on the 7th of June 1832 the Reform Act received the Royal Assent.

This new Bill now gave men who owned or rented property with an annual rate of £10 or more the vote.

BLACKBURN ELECTIONS OF 1832


The Reform Act, by removing most of the rotten boroughs and creating new, larger ones such as Manchester - which up to then, like Blackburn, had no Parliamentary representation—gave the franchise to many more people and made Parliament more representative than it had ever been.

Initially it was recommended that Blackburn should send one Member to Parliament, but by the time the Reform Bill was passed it was decided that the town would be entitled to two MP’s.

The census of 1831 shows Blackburn to have had a population of 27,091, with 4,594 occupied houses and 208 empty giving a total of 4,802, there were 623 houses with a rateable value of £10 or more. When the list of electors was made in 1832 this had risen to 627.

On the 3rd December 1832 Parliament was dissolved, this was to be the first election under the new Reform Act. It would be Blackburn’s first chance to send two MP’s to the House of Commons.

On the day of the nominations, three principal candidates came forward, including:

‘William Turner of Mill Hill, Blackburn and Shrigley Hall, Cheshire Whig - proposed by John Hargreaves, coroner, seconded by Thomas Dugdale’.

As the day for nominations drew near William Turner entered the fray, “almost like a bomb shell, offering himself to the Free and independent electors of both parties”.

The Turner family was very popular in Blackburn and William was a much-liked employer at his calico printing mill.

Outside the Old Bull Hotel on Church Street in front of a large crowd of working men he set up his political stall as follows:

“Gentlemen, They said I wouldn’t come; but I am come, and will be here at the day of the election. I’ll stand the contest. It rains; it will wet you and will wet me. Good night. Give us three cheers.”

Turner then went into the Old Bull Hotel and bought barrels of beer for the crowds.

A local commentator observed that “barrels of beer were rolled into the yard of our ancient parish church, the ends were knocked out and the people were debauched with drink and over the very graves which contained our forefathers.”

At first the Tories resisted this type of electioneering but they finally succumbed to it and it was said that money was being left in pubs by the Tory Fielding and the Whig Turner to buy drinks for the undecided, amounts between £60 and £200 pounds were mentioned as being laid out.

As for the election, ‘the populace before the announcement was made [of the result] had exhibited symptoms of violence and several stones and other missiles were thrown from Tacket’s field in Ainsworth Street, by which many individuals were slightly wounded and some panes of glass broken’.

Whilst closing the proceedings at the hustings were going on, another portion of the populace were employed in breaking the windows of the old Bull Inn, and several skirmishes took place between the mob and the special constables; wherein some of the latter were seriously injured.

At his point the fourth and more Radical candidate Dr Bowring bitterly conceded his loss, noting of William that:

“Mr. Turner had absolutely no recommendation whatever, but that he had wealth and was willing to spend it to obtain the honour of a position which he was about as fitted to fill as to quadrate the circle, to calculate an eclipse, or to give a lecture on Plato.

He had (though) the distinction though of being the father of the young lady who was abducted by Edward Gibbon Wakefield.

His success was due, and could only be due, to a fixed purpose, to accomplish his objective by the drunkenness and demoralization of the people”.

However, the reality was that Turner was also a generous and public spirited man who was naturally popular.

For example, in 1833 William and his wife Jane erected Almshouses on Bank Top Blackburn for indigent women. They consisted of 6 single storey dwellings and Turner endowed them with 3s per week for maintenance. They still exist and were listed as being of historic significance in 1974.

William Turner died at his home in Mill Hill on July 17th 1842 and was buried in St. Johns churchyard Blackburn.

POSTSCRIPT

Most Māori chiefs signed the Māori-language version of the Treaty of Waitangi on 6 February 1840 or further north and at Auckland.


A recent translation from the Māori version is as follows:

Article: The First
The chiefs of the Confederation and all the chiefs who have not joined that Confederation give absolutely to the Queen of England forever the complete government over their land.

Article: The Second
The Queen of England agrees to protect the chiefs, the sub-tribes and all the people of New Zealand in the unqualified exercise of their chieftainship over their lands, villages and all their treasures. But on the other hand the chiefs of the Confederation and all the chiefs will sell land to the Queen at a price agreed to by the person owning it and by the person buying it (the latter being) appointed by the Queen as her purchase agent.

Article: The Third
For this agreed arrangement therefore concerning the government of the Queen, the Queen of England will protect all the ordinary people of New Zealand and will give them the same rights and duties of citizenship as the people of England.

It is a matter of some interest as to how far Maori really understood anything of the contemporary state of governance in England. Did they have any understanding that even the relatively recent Reform Act only enfranchised those holding property with ‘annual rates of £10 or more’.

Assuming that £1 (1840) = £85 (2000) and that £1 = $2, we have a rates threshold on the property franchise of $1,700, applying then to those with titles on houses worth more than $350,000 in today’s terms – not exactly generously democratic.

But there again, the Maori chiefs may have been all too well aware of these kinds of nuances and quite disinterested in the rights that they were signing away on behalf of other members of their iwi.

I do feel though that it is something of a shame that New Zealand was first settled by a land agent like Edward Gibbon Wakefield rather than an industrialist like William Turner. Under the latter we might have had a better start in generating the special 'X' factor that embodies innovation, enterprise and productivity.

And William seems a more genuine sort of man than Edward.

One can only surmise that if Edward had successfully married Ellen and her father had travelled out from England to see his grandchildren, William would have had little difficulty in making better friends with Maori chiefs like Te Rauparaha.

I imagine William toddling down from 90 The Terrace, escaping from his snobbish and egocentric son-in-law, off to the Thistle Inn in Pipitea Street to share a drink with his old mate 'TR' – and 'shouting' the rest of the Ngati Toa a barrel of beer or three on the occasion of Queen Victoria’s Birthday.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Edward Gibbon Wakefield – New Zealand’s Seedy Founding Father



WALKING UP FROM THE HARBOUR TO WAKEFIELD HOUSE

My previous posts on the re-development of Wellington’s waterfront have kicked me into writing about New Zealand’s early settlement – and the attempted imposition by the founding fathers of shabby gentility and conformity at the expense of enterprise and innovation.

When I kept a workplace in town, I used to regularly walk up from Lambton Quay (the shoreline in 1840) by way of Woodward Street to my office in Wakefield House on The Terrace. The existing 8-storey Wakefield House stands on the site of the house that was built by one of the city’s earliest and ostensibly illustrious citizens 'Colonel' William Wakefield.

It was he who commanded the first fleet organized by the New Zealand Company and, having been a soldier with Portuguese & Carlist armies in the period 1832 - 1837, he built his house on the sandy heights that commanded a direct view of the comings and goings in the harbor. It was also strategically placed opposite the Maori Pa at Kumutoto but separated from it by a ravine and stream (the line of which is now followed by Woodward Street).

The house was as near as Wellington ever came to having its own fort or castle knoll.

Whether by accident or design, the local Maori did not take to the new building or their new neighbour and their numbers soon became depleted.

And it was in the house though that William’s brother Edward Gibbon Wakefield died on 18 May 1862. He even trumps his brother in reputation and has been credited as being New Zealand’s ‘Founder’, no less.

So I was walking in the footsteps of a great man, up from the old beach at the harbour’s edge to the sandy terrace above – at least according to the conventional history books (and I have to say that the New Zealand histories appear to lead the way here searching desperately for a hero - albeit a reputedly repentant kidnapper).

Well, I have at least two gripes about the hagiography. In the first place, it seems to me that he was an unreformed swindler who merely substituted virgin lands for virgin heiresses. And secondly, I have a strong objection to the shoddy land development policies that he espoused, which purported to deliver structured societies in settler colonies at the expense of battler backwoodsmen (and which rode slipshod over native land rights).

There again, I have to admit also to a certain amount of animosity stemming from a Northerner’s distrust of parvenu toffs from the South of England, as the heiress that he abducted was a Cheshire wench.

And it is perhaps remarkable that first-footer Northern Lad and Whaler-Trader Dicky Barrett piloted the first ominously-named settler ship ‘Tory’ past the reef that now bears his name - without deliberately wrecking it.

Dicky could, I feel, have been forgiven for regaling Colonel Wakefield with the words that were overheard back in a pub in Melbourne in the 1960s, as a Northerner responded to an effete Southerner fronting up to the bar with:

‘I’ve come twelve thousand bloody miles to get away from bastards like you – and I still can’t!’

So let’s start by getting the kidnapping on the table.

THE CHESHIRE CONNECTION - THE SHRIGLEY ABDUCTION

Edward Gibbon Wakefield, a London land agent's son (good start eh?), was born on March 20, 1796.

Even his grandmother Priscilla had her doubts from the start, writing in one letter: “My mind is painfully engaged with the perverseness of dear little Edward – his obstinacy if he inclines to evil terrifies me’.

He was unsurprisingly a poor student and was expelled from his school in Edinburgh, with influence being exerted to get him a job in the Foreign Service in 1814. However, his sponsor wrote:

“I can tell you very little respecting Edward Gibbon Wakefield; his conduct is wholly inexplicable. He despises his father’s advice, he laughs at his opinions; he talks largely of being in his own hands, and independent of his father…. I wish his father could make up his mind to see only a common man in him”. [Francis Place, (1815)].

At the age of twenty he eloped to Scotland with a 17-year-old heiress, Eliza Pattle. Luckily for him, her parents accepted the marriage and settled £70,000 on the young couple. However, Eliza died four years later after giving birth to her third child in 1820.

Then Edward tried to break his father-in-law's will and was suspected of perjury and forgery.

In February of 1827, 31-year-old Edward then conspired with his brother William Wakefield to get his hands on the person and inheritance of a 15-year-old schoolgirl Ellen Turner by lying to her and her guardians at her school in Liverpool.


He apparently based his plan to marry Ellen on the expectation that her parents would respond as Eliza's had.

Ellen was the daughter and only child of William Turner, a wealthy resident of Pott Shrigley, Cheshire, England, who owned calico printing and spinning mills in Blackburn, Lancashire. At the time of the abduction, Turner was a High Sheriff of Cheshire. He lived in Shrigley Hall, near Macclesfield (see pictures below).

Ellen was told that her father William Turner had become paralyzed and wished to see his daughter immediately. Later Wakefield informed Ellen that there was an agreement between two banks that some of her father's estate would be transferred to her or, to be exact, her husband.

He also said that his banker uncle had proposed that Wakefield marry Ellen, and that if she would agree to marry him, her father would be saved. Ellen allowed them to take her to Carlisle. There they met William Wakefield, who claimed to have spoken to Mr. Turner and that Mr. Turner had also agreed to the marriage.

Wakefield then married Ellen at Gretna Green and took her off to France, telling her that she would meet her father there.

But unfortunately for Wakefield, William Turner was made of sterner stuff than Eliza Pattle’s father. He had apparently expected that William Turner would accept the marriage rather than face a public scandal. Instead, Turner went to London and asked for help from the police.

There he learned that his daughter had been taken to the Continent. Turner sent his brother to Calais, accompanied by a police officer and a solicitor. There they soon found the couple and Ellen expressed pleasure at seeing her uncle, subsequently discovering the truth of the whole affair.

However, Wakefield claimed that since they were legally married, she could not be taken from him by force. In spite of this the French authorities interviewed Ellen and finally let her leave the country with her uncle. Wakefield, trying to make the best of his situation, wrote out a statement that Ellen was still a virgin and left for Paris.

The consensus of society was that:

“His sole motive was of the most sordid and vulgar description. In order to possess himself of the fortune of a mere girl, whom I had never seen, he did not scruple to employ falsehood, fraud, cruelty and the vilest hypocrisy, in feigning a passion he could not have entertained” [‘The Kaleidoscope’ (1827)].

BROUGHT TO HEEL

The English police issued warrants for the Wakefields' arrest and William was arrested in Dover a couple of days later. William and the Wakefield’s stepmother Frances were taken to Cheshire and then committed to Lancaster Castle to await trial.

The trial of William Wakefield began on 21 March 1827 with great publicity - but without Edward Wakefield, who was arrested later. On 23 March 1827 all three defendants were put on trial in Lancaster. The jury found all of them guilty the same day. They were committed to Lancaster Castle a day later.

On 14 May the Wakefields were taken to the Court of King's Bench in Westminster Hall in London for sentencing, where William claimed that he had been working under the guidance of his brother. Both were put in prison for three years, with Edward being incarcerated in Newgate prison and William in Lancaster Castle.

Since the marriage apparently had not been consummated, Parliament annulled it immediately.

POSTSCRIPT

Somewhat subdued by his experience, Wakefield appears to have transferred his affections from maidens to the virgin lands of the colonies (of which more later).

However, he did pause to write about prison reform and the desirability of abolishing the death penalty, noting the succession of prisoners at Newgate who were executed for minor offences.

From a modern stance, one can only marvel at the blatant bias in the judicial system that condemned men to death or transportation for offences like petty theft or poaching while the wealthy and influential suffered minor sentences. Wakefield did not comment on this anomaly.

It is perhaps something of a shame then that he was not transported for seven years to New South Wales to gain some first-hand colonial experience. And that he did not then settle as a trader like Dicky Barrett and become a friendly ‘Pakeha’ who abducted but then successfully married one of Te Rauparaha’s daughters. Wow that really would have been a risky venture but it would have given him a sounder claim to have been New Zealand’s 'Founding Father'!

As it was, I fancy that Edward spent his declining years at 90 The Terrace mulling over his various falls from grace. I suspect that he would have happily swapped his bungalow in a colonial backwater for Shrigley Hall but that would have required an altogether more fortunate outturn from this “tale of anguish, deceit and violation of the domestic hearth”.


Thursday, June 10, 2010

Fox Hunting and the Point-to-Points




GOLDEN YEARS OF THE ENGLISH ARISTOCRACY

I feel compelled to add a little to my earlier posts on the history of dairy farming in South Cheshire.

First, I think that I need to explain a little more about the role of the aristocracy and the integral part that its members played in the area's social and economic development in the 19th century. And second, this provides a context for understanding the importance of fox hunting and horses in local culture.

As Mark Overton explains, the 19th century was like no other in that Malthusian constraints on population growth fortunately failed. Thanks to the Industrial Revolution (and the accompanying intensification of international trade), England faced an unprecedented and continuous increase in demand for agricultural commodities:

“In 1750 English population stood at about 5.7 million. It had probably reached this level before, in the Roman period, then around 1300, and again in 1650. But at each of these periods the population ceased to grow, essentially because agriculture could not respond to the pressure of feeding extra people [within a closed system].

Contrary to expectation, however, population grew to unprecedented levels after 1750, reaching 16.6 million in 1850, and agricultural output expanded with it”.

These developments also constituted a enormous opportunity for landowners. Whereas in the past rents had tended to stabilize and then fall on a cyclical basis, from 1750 or so onwards they tended upwards as product markets firmed, accompanied by increasing innovation and specialization.

As I have mentioned previously, some 400 km2 of Cheshire was held by aristocratic landlords in the mid-1800s, with 287 km2 (71,000 acres) being held by the four largest. This meant that as rents increased from say £1 13s 4d per acre in 1840 to £2 per acre 1870, the four largest landowners received an additional £47,000 per year (worth nearly £4 million per year in today’s money).

This extra cash funded the construction of extensive Gothic Castles and Jacobethan Great Houses, and the enjoyment of lavish lifestyles. However, the recipients also funded farm consolidation and farm house and building reconstruction, which reinforced the adoption of innovations and larger scale production by their tenant farmers.

From the fortunate larger farmer’s point of view, this was no bad thing. As cattle became relatively more expensive and cheese-making more demanding, it was sensible for all to ensure that costs should be shared between those who provided the capital in the form of land and those who provided the capital in the form of cattle (and who also bore the operating costs).

The New Zealand ‘Share Milking’ system is very different in form but has a similar underlying logic.

So there were two upshots from a social stance. The aristocracy had plenty of money and leisure – and they had created a relatively powerful class of large holding tenant farmers. And what kept both classes together in no small measure was the interest that emerged, and that they then both shared, in fox hunting and horse racing.

We have some interesting insights into the emergence of these trends in the form of a poem or ballad called ‘Farmer Dobbin’ written by Rowland Eyles Egerton-Warburton in 1853.

I have taken the liberty of straightening it out a bit and changing the surname references to the locals (Dobbin not being a Cheshire name). A shortened version is given below. Almost certainly, it was first recited in the Swan Inn in Tarporley, Cheshire around 1850.

FARMER DUTTON

‘Owd man, it’s well-nigh milking time, wherever hast thee bin
There’s slutch upon they coat, I fear, and blood upon thy chin?’
‘I’ve been to see the gentlefolk of Cheshire ride a run
Owd wench! I’ve been a-hunting and I’ve seen some rattling fun.

Our owd mare was at the smithy, when the huntsman he trots through
With Black Bill still hammering, the last nail in her shoe.
The woods lay weam and close, and so jovial seemed the day
Says I, “Owd mare, we’ll take a fling and see them go away”.

And what a power of gentlefolk did I set eyes upon
A reining in their hunters, all blood horses every one.

I seed that great commander in the saddle, Captain White
And the pack that thronged around him was indeed a gradely sight
The dogs looked smooth as satin, and himself as hard as nails,
And he gives the swells a caution not to ride upon their tails.

Says he “Young men of Manchester and Liverpool, come near,
I’ve just a word, a warning word, to whisper in your ear
When starting from the cover side, you see bold Reynolds burst
We cannot have no hunting if you gentlemen go first”.

Tom Rance has a single eye, worth many another’s two
He held his cap above his yed to show he had a view;
Tom’s voice was like the owd raven’s when he skriked ‘Tally-ho!’
For when the fox had seen Tom’s face, he thought it time to go.

Eh my! A pretty jingle then went ringing through the sky
Hounds Victory and Villager began the merry cry
Then every mouth was open from the owd’un to the pup
And all the pack together took the swelling chorus up.

Eh my! A pretty skouver then was kicked up in the vale
They skimmed across the running brook, they topped the post and rails
The did’na stop for razor cop - but played at touch and go -
And them as missed their footing there, lay doubled up below.

I seed the hounds a-crossing Farmer Fearnall’s boundary line
Whose daughter plays the piano and drinks white sherry wine
Gold rings upon her fingers and silk stockings on her feet
Says I “It won’t do him no harm to ride across his wheat!”

So tightly holding on by the yed, I hits the owd mare a whop
And ‘oo plumps into the wheat field going neck and crop
And when ‘oo floundered out on it, I catched another spin
And Missus that’s the occasion of the blood upon my chin.

I never risked another hap but kept the lane and then
In twenty minutes time, they turned on me again
The fox was finely daggled and the hounds were out of breath
When they killed him in the open and owd Dutton seed the death.

Now Missus, since the markets be doing moderate well
I’ve welly made my mind up to buy a nag myself
For to keep a farmer’s spirits up when things be getting low
There’s nothing like fox-hunting and rattling ‘Tally-ho!’

[adapted from ‘Farmer Dobbin’ by Rowland Eyles Egerton-Warburton, 1853]

COMMENT

The original is much longer and is marred for modern readers by its deliberately antique spelling and comedy turn dialect.

It was clearly written to entertain the members of the Tarporley (Cheshire) Hunt Club by providing a parody of the argot spoken by the farmers that they met on their estates – and a good deal of the poem consists of catalogue or ‘Who’s Who’ of the important members of the Hunt and local high society.

However, there are some interesting social insights to be drawn here.

In the first place, it is notable that the farmer is now welcome enough on the hunt and that by the 1850s he felt that things were going well enough to buy himself a ‘hunter’ (i.e. part thoroughbred horse).

Secondly, there is mention of the ‘young men of Manchester and Liverpool’ whose wealthy merchant and mill-owner fathers were happy to see hunting so that they could rub shoulders with the establishment – and maybe make a match with the daughters of the nobility.

Third, there is some attempt to mock the wealthy independent farm owner whose daughter ‘plays the piano and drinks white sherry wine’ (in the original the Farmer is called Farmer Flare-up). Obviously, not being beholden like the tenants he would very much resent the Hunt crossing his land.

One has to doubt though whether Farmer Dutton / Dobbin would capriciously ride across his neighbour’s wheat – this seems much more the sort of thing that the aristocratic or parvenu huntsmen would do.

And it is sobering to reflect on how new and synthetic Cheshire's fox hunting culture really is. As we will see later, the original Hunt Club that was founded in 1762 in Tarporley started off with hare coursing. It was only prosperity, farm consolidation and the widespread introduction and proper maintenance of hawthorn hedges that made fox hunting viable.

For all the social nuances, my Darlington family was totally enamoured with fox hunting and point-to-point / steeple chase horse racing – which of course went very much hand in hand. Point to point horses got a lot of their training in full cry, and riding to hounds was equally a way of testing a rider’s mettle.

I have therefore dropped in a photo of my grandfather Herbert Darlington’s pride and joy – Catherine the Great - who was a successful race horse and brood mare – and who, as we were never allowed to forget was half-sister to Russian Hero who won the Grand National in 1949!




THE CHESHIRE HUNT AS IT IS NOW

“Welcome to the online home of the Cheshire Hounds and the Cheshire Hunt Supporters Club.

The Cheshire Hunt was founded in 1763. The area hunted encompassed the whole of Cheshire. This vast area was subsequently divided between the Cheshire and the South Cheshire Hunts in 1877, and the two portions were then reunited in 1907. This separation occurred again from 1931 until 1946.

The country now hunted is about twenty five square miles with the main centres around Tarporley and Nantwich, with Chester, Kelsall, Whitchurch and Malpas at its boundaries.

The Hunt meets on a Tuesday and Saturday at 11am from November until mid March, with a bye day being held once a fortnight on a Thursday at 12noon.

Cheshire is predominantly a dairy county with miles of grass, fenced by hedges and ditches.

The Hunt uniform is a scarlet coat with hunt buttons. A green collar is worn by Hunt Staff, Masters, and by invitation of the Tarporley Hunt Club.

The kennels are situated in the North of the country. Thirty five couple of hounds are kept and the pack will vary from either a bitch or a mixed pack depending on the meet. Hounds are bred for speed and endurance, and many miles will be covered in a day’s activities”.

THE TARPORLEY HUNT CLUB [from Wikipedia]

‘The Tarporley Hunt Club is a hunt club which meets at Tarporley in Cheshire, England. Founded in 1762, it is the oldest surviving such society in England, and possibly the oldest in the world. Its members' exploits were immortalised in the Hunting Songs of Rowland Egerton-Warburton. The club also organised the Tarporley Races, a horse racing meeting, from 1776 until 1939. The club's patron is Charles, Prince of Wales.

At first the club organised hare coursing, but its focus had already begun to switch to fox hunting within the first few years. Membership was limited to twenty in 1764, expanded to twenty-five in 1769 and later to forty.] The club's headquarters soon became the Swan Hotel, which dates from 1769. In the founding set of rules, members were required to drink "three collar bumpers" after both dinner and supper, and, in the event of marriage, to present each club member with a pair of buckskin breeches.

The club used the first pack of foxhounds in Cheshire, whose master was John Smith-Barry, son of the fourth Earl of Barrymore, of Marbury Hall. Among the hounds was the famed Blue Cap, which had beaten the hound owned by Hugo Meynell, founder of the Quorn Hunt, in a race held in 1762. After Barry's death in 1784, the hunt used a pack kept by Sir Peter Warburton of Arley Hall, which later became known as the Cheshire Hounds.

Members of the Egerton, Cholmondeley, Grosvenor and other prominent local families joined not long after the club's foundation. Among the many early members who were important in county or national affairs were Sir Philip Egerton of Oulton Park; Richard Grosvenor, first Earl Grosvenor, of Eaton Hall; Field Marshal Stapleton Cotton, first Viscount Combermere, of Combermere Abbey; Thomas Cholmondeley of Vale Royal; and his son, also Thomas Cholmondeley, first Baron Delamere.

Rowland Egerton-Warburton, president in 1838 and later one of the club's few honorary members, was known as the club's poet laureate. He immortalised some of its members' exploits in his Hunting Songs, and also wrote a history of the club to accompany an edition of the verses.

George Wilbraham, one of the club's original founders, purchased an estate in Delamere Forest including Crabtree Green, which had been used as racecourse since the mid-17th century. In 1776, the club held a sweepstake there with seven runners, and the contest became an annual event.

In the 1800s, the Tarporley Races became a permanent fixture in the Racing Calendar. Originally, only horses owned or nominated by members could enter, but in 1805 or 1809, a silver cup was awarded for a "farmers' race". The members' race was ridden in hunting costume.

THE MODERN LOCAL POINT TO POINT RACE

As the website explains for the 2010 season:

“The Cheshire Hunt Point to Point will take place on Sunday 18 April 2010 at Alpraham, Nr Tarporley. The first race starts at two o’clock, although many visitors choose to arrive early to set up for lunch - candelabras and full dining sets have appeared in previous years!

There will be seven races and a parade of hounds later in the day. Those with a weakness for the odd flutter will be well-served by onsite bookmakers....

Various catering outlets, trade stands and amusements for the children will be available around the site, and there's every reason to make a day of it.

2010 will mark the fiftieth year of racing at this particular course at Alpraham and a celebration lunch will take place to mark the occasion. The lunch will be held adjacent to the paddock and tables will be retained all day so that guests can enjoy the racing from the comfort of their chairs.

A champagne reception will be held prior to lunch, and afternoon tea is included to ensure that a memorable day is had by all. Full details of how to obtain tickets can be downloaded here.

Admission – car parking costs £20, £30 or £35 for reserved forward parking. Tickets for the celebratory lunch cost £50 in addition to car parking charges.

Further details will be published as the event draws near.....”

Monday, June 7, 2010

Dairy Farming in South Cheshire - the Past is another Countryside




SOLASTALGIA, GENRE DE VIE AND SOUTH CHESHIRE

In my previous post / article, I introduced my grandmother Sally Darlington and her family (the Kinseys and Prices of rural South Cheshire). I also promised to follow my established practice of matching the family history to the economic history of the locale and times.

Fortunately, in this case I have some fairly solid and original information to draw on.

In May 1965, I finished a mini-thesis on the agricultural economics of dairy farming in South Cheshire in the period 1930 to 1965 as a requirement for my Honours Degree in Geography at Cambridge.

The theme was the interplay between rapid changes in market access and farming techniques and the seemingly unchanging landscape ‘where time has affected little change in what has always been a carpet of grass with a very delicate pattern of arable’ (E.P. Boon ‘Land of Britain’ (1941)).

So I can tell you a pretty good story of the South Cheshire that I experienced as a boy - and that framed the working life of my stepfather Horace (born 1917) and the latter part of the life of his mother Sally (born 1877).

But if it is true that ‘you can take the boy out of the country, though you can’t take the country out of the boy’, the question remains ‘what piece of country do we see when we look back?’ The past is not just another country - it is also another countryside.

Generally, there is much more change than we are prepared to credit.

In this context, the tendency for constant adjustment within given constants (which are themselves ultimately adjustable) has continued to fascinate me.

And to give change and tradition their proper due, I’ll start back in the 16th century by drawing together and augmenting information that is available on line.

A SHORT HISTORY OF THE CHESHIRE CHEESE & DAIRY INDUSTRY

Apparently Camden's ‘Brittania’ records that ‘Cheshire Cheese is more agreeable and better relished than those of other parts of the kingdom’. And the 1637 edition refers to cheese making in Cheshire as follows:

"the grasse and fodder there is of that goodness and vertue that the cheeses bee made heere in great number of a most pleasing and delicate taste, such as all England againe affordeth not the like; no, though the best dairy women otherwise and skilfullest in cheesemaking be had from hence."

The local and ready availability of salt was another factor that fostered development.

Although there are few records, it seems certain that Cheshire cheese had a long medieval history of being exported through the Port of Chester, and that it played an important part in provisioning both merchant shipping and English armies destined for North Wales, Ireland and Scotland.

1623 - First recorded instance of Cheshire cheese being shipped to London by road. This would have been pressed, aged cheese that was sufficiently hard to stand up to journeys by horse and cart to London and sufficiently cured to survive long sea journeys during which it was a staple food for English seafarers.

‘If you will have good cheese and have old
You must turn him seven times before he is cold’.

During the 17th century red clover gradually improved the nutritional value of Cheshire grasslands. It appears to have been introduced from the Netherlands. Clover can triple the amount of available nitrogen in the soil and substantially enrich pasture.

1650 - Start of the trade in Cheshire cheese to London by boat following cattle disease in Suffolk in the 1640s. Until then large amounts of Suffolk cheese went to London ordered especially by the Navy.

Port of London records show the growth in Cheshire Cheese landings from 1650. This was a full milk cheese (as originally was its Suffolk rival) but Cheshire cheese was cheaper.

As the production of Suffolk cheese declined in the wake of cattle disease, farmers there switched to making butter for the lucrative London market and made poorer tasting skimmed milk cheeses. After this period, Cheshire Cheese would have been sold at a premium to the now inferior Suffolk Cheese.

1690s - Trade with London slowed due to the loss of ships to the war with France.

1713 - Trade resumed at the end of the war and from 1739 the Navy gave precedence to Cheshire cheese. By this time London had become the major market.

1748 to 1759 Dr Samuel Johnson rents a house near to a famous old pub built in 1668. The pub ‘Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese’ still stands near Fleet Street in the City of London

In 1750 English population stood at about 5.7 million. Contrary to past experience population grew to unprecedented levels after 1750, reaching 16.6 million in 1850, and agricultural output expanded with it.

From 1750 onwards, the Industrial Revolution and the growth of the Northern mill towns and the Potteries opened new markets to Cheshire farmers. Sales into the Mersey basin increased - not just of cheese but also of milk and butter.

Between 1721 and 1835, Cheshire, Lancashire and the Midlands were laced by an interconnected network of canals:

1721 - River Weaver (canalised)
1761 - Bridgewater Canal
1772 - Chester Canal
1777 - Trent and Mersey Canal
1829 - Wardle Canal
1831 - Macclesfield Canal
1835 - Shropshire Union Canal

The canals and then the railways opened up new markets and demand for cheaper, younger cheese started to develop especially by the poorer industrial workers. The canals also allow inputs to be brought in, including fodder from outside the county.

The presence of brickworks along the canals makes bricks readily available for the enlargement and new construction of farm buildings and the development of farmhouse dairies (with the rear of the houses and the dairies being essentially merged). The larger farmhouses also help to secure live-in dairymaids to assist with cheese-making.

Cheeses rise gradually from 20 lbs to 40 lbs and then 60 lbs in weight as transport improved and new presses are brought into play. The bigger cheeses produced under conditions more akin to factory rather than craft production require larger amounts of milk – this in turn favoured larger farms.

1800 – In the period from 1800, efforts to improve Cheshire pastures were intensified – often linked to the enclosure of common land.

Stock-proof hawthorn hedges were planted and regularly re-laid and trimmed. Ditches were dug and maintained along the boundary hedges and field drains were put in place, oftentimes preceded by the corrugation of the fields into higher strips (bawks) edged with dips or ‘reens’ that crossed the contours.

Where deposits of marl occurred, this was mined and spread to reduce soil acidity. At the same time, many of these marling holes became farm pits from which stock could be watered. Pits were also dug near farmsteads to assist in ‘swilling out’ the shippons and to provide water for stall-fed stock during the winter.

1823 - Cheshire cheese production estimated at 10,000 tonnes a year.

1840s - Alternative markets for milk produced in Cheshire continued to develop (milk and butter to the industrial areas) and production of Cheshire cheese was pushed back to the south of the county. London remained an important market - especially for aged Cheshire cheese.

Younger, fresher, crumbly cheese that required shorter storage—similar to the Cheshire cheese of today—began to gain popularity towards the end of the 19th century, particularly in the industrial areas in the North and the Midlands. It was a cheaper cheese to make as it required less storage.

Such cheeses tended to be marketed in Stockport and Nantwich-Crewe that were astride the major lines of rail access to the industrial towns of South Lancashire.

1845 – 1880 The era of massive, planned estate consolidation by the major aristocratic landowners in Cheshire who between themselves owned over 400 km2 of dairy land (with 287 km2 being owned by the 4 largest) – see my previous post on the Tollemache’s.

The power of the landowners overturned many traditional practices and brought in a highly structured and competitive system of production. Many second and younger sons were pushed out of farming. Although the successful farming families had some perceived rights to pass on tenancies to elder sons, the system was ultimately competitive and land agents introduced tenders and unilateral rent reviews for tenancies.

Professor Mark Overton sees this as a major factor in the continued adjustment of English agriculture to new conditions and challenges:

“The key probably lies in the way the English workforce was organised and employed. The development of agrarian capitalism in England, with those involved in agriculture divided into landowners, capitalist tenant farmers and labourers, saw the development of better farm management and more efficiency in using the workforce”.

1865-66 - During the Rinderpest Cattle Plague several Cheshire clergymen claimed that the plague was divine punishment for the sins of the people, the first being the making of cheese on a Sunday. Landowners then gave prizes for the best cheese "made without Sunday labour". As a result Monday's cheese was often asserted to be the best as the milk had stood over the weekend.

At the same time, liquid milk production expanded. From the late 1860's to the end of the 19th century the population of Lancashire increased by roughly 50 per cent. And per capita milk consumption increased by 25 per cent, while overall demand, is estimated to have risen by almost 90 per cent. This was due in no small degree to the growing popularity of tea drunk in the traditional manner with milk and sugar, by even the poorest mill and mining families.

All in all, milk prices stayed remarkably stable except during the depression of 1883-6 and the hard years of the early 1890's while cheese prices fluctuated more widely. The relative profitability of milk production became even more apparent during the I890's when the prices of butter and cheese fell markedly in industrial areas (partly due to growing imports).

The shift to liquid-milk production was strengthened by two further factors. First, a marked fall in rail transport costs took place. Second, the cost of concentrates -oats, maize, oilcake - fell by some 40 per cent, while savings were made on labour costs by reducing the numbers of paid workers (including live-in cheese maids) and increasing the amount of family labour.

Not surprisingly the amount of liquid milk produced and sold in Lancashire increased by over 50 per cent. This was drawn from an ever widening hinterland with rail access being a major determinant of the switch from cheese to liquid milk production. South West Cheshire being the most remote from direct access to major urban markets remained a bastion of traditional cheese production into the 20th century.

Organised agricultural education was introduced in Cheshire in 1890 with the formation of an Agricultural Instruction Committee comprised of forward-looking landowners and farmers. This committee founded a teaching centre on a dairy farm at Worleston.

By 1914, it had become increasingly clear that the Worleston Dairy Institute could no longer meet the demand. Meanwhile, a College of Agriculture had been established at Holmes Chapel in 1895 and this was affiliated to Manchester University. It was then felt that one centre should be found to accommodate all agricultural education in Cheshire.

In 1919, Reaseheath Hall, near Nantwich came on the market and with the aid of a Government grant, the estate was purchased by the County Council for an enlarged agricultural training centre – this became a centre of excellence and good practice – though it was often spoken of in derogatory terms by traditional farming families.

1900 - The move to younger, fresher, crumbly cheese that required shorter storage - similar to the Cheshire cheese we know today - continued. The cheese was sold every week during the grass growing season rather than the once or twice a year sale that typified cheese marketing in earlier years.

This shift resulted in a decline in the volumes of cheese sold into London. But the main markets at Whitchurch, Chester and Nantwich were increasingly used to sell traditional cheeses - primarily into markets in the North West. My grandparents were claimed to have actually made Lancashire Cheese (even milder and more crumbly than the new Cheshires).

1927 - The Cheshire Cheese Federation was formed to control standards and grade cheese on farms. It was they who set the standards for how good Cheshire Cheese should be made and graded. Most of the Cheshire being made was still being produced on farms.

1939 - The Second World War resulted in the end of cheese production on farm and was only re-started at the end of rationing in 1953 by the Milk Marketing Board. In the intervening post war years, imported cheese was freely available "off ration" and helped to create a market for such cheese at the expense of traditional British varieties.

1960 onwards - Milk production and cheese production grew strongly in the UK and the range of cheese available increased considerably. Crumbly cheeses like Cheshire became less fashionable as they did not lend themselves to the new pre-packing requirements of the supermarkets - traditional crumbly cheeses simply did not pack well.

Faced with such competition, Cheshire sales gradually declined from their peak of around 40,000 in 1960 to about one sixth of that level today. Today, three Cheshire makers account for the greater part of the Cheshire cheese made in the North West.

THE AGRICULTURAL ECONOMY OF CHESHIRE 1930 TO 1965

I will now turn over to some of the comments made and findings drawn in my 1965 Mini-thesis.

Although South Cheshire still held a traditional focus on cheese production in 1930, it was already very much part of the world economy. It was known for its high stocking rates but these were only partly explained by the quality of its grass. It also depended heavily on ‘concentrates’ (including maize from Canada, beans from Argentina, and waste from cotton and palm oil processing in West Africa) to boost milk production.

Around 1930, there were about 1,000 regular farm-house cheese makers operating in the Cheshire Cheese area (this consists of Cheshire, North Shropshire, North Staffordshire and the lowlands of Flint and Denbighshire). Production at that time was about 20,000 tons.

The cheese economy of this era depended heavily imported cattle feed. A Manchester University survey of 17 farms gives an average expenditure on feed of £16 per cow, consisting of £8.8 on purchased concentrates, £4.5 on home grown hay and root crops and £2.7 per cow on grazing.

Four factors supported this production model:

1. Bought in feed (supported by Imperial trade preferences) was readily and relatively cheaply available
2. The extra feed increased milk yields and extended lactations smoothing the application of labour and extending cash flows – and it was particularly important to smaller farms in boosting scale in cheese-making
3. Heifers could be imported in large numbers from Ireland and Wales, allowing Cheshire farmers to maximize the benefits of Spring calving – and avoid the need to grass feed young stock
4. As the final output was cheese rather than milk, efficiencies in craft manufacturing were just as important as efficiencies in pasture usage.

But the Great Depression forced down commodity prices such that ‘cheese was 4 pence a pound on Nantwich market and unemployed labourer would walk 3 miles out of town to meet farmers to hold the horses bridle while the cheese was unloaded, for 6 pence’.

Despite the heavy reliance on imported feed, milk yields were low. The stock consisted almost exclusively of Dairy Shorthorns with an average yield of around 600 gallons per cow and low butterfat content.

Not that cow performance was the whole issue: ‘it was the aim of every rising farmer to increase the number of cows on his farm, his proudest boast that he kept more than his predecessor, his most earnest desire to get a farm where he could keep more cows – his very standing in the neighbourhood seemed to depend on the size of his herd’.

However, the cheese industry collapsed rapidly as the decade wore on. By 1939, the number of farmhouse cheese-makers had dropped to 250 and output was around 2,500 tons, partly offset by increased factory production. These trends exacerbated the shortage of essential live-in cheese maids and skilled labour became harder to find.

Amid the problems, the Milk Marketing Board (set up in 1933) encouraged the production of liquid milk. This in turn led to a greater emphasis on stall fed winter production and increases in hay-making and fodder crop cultivation. However, it was generally held that ‘a farm of 80 acres is too small for a tractor’ which further encouraged the consolidation of holdings.

World War II brought even greater adjustments. In 1939, the cultivated area within twenty representative parishes rose from 5 percent to 17 percent as the government encouraged wheat production and farmers were faced with a virtual standstill in the importation of concentrates and the need therefore to grow their own supplementary feed. Importation of heifers from Ireland was also curtailed.

In consequence, the average number of cows and heifers per 100 acres fell from 49 to 40 but the farmers tended to resist reducing stock numbers as ‘no one ever thought of reducing their herds if it could be at all avoided’. This being no doubt in part due to the fact that the War brought prosperity as British consumer access to world markets was also affected.

In the period 1945 to 1955 was marked by the maintenance of cultivation (except for wheat for human consumption which was rapidly abandoned), a cutback in cow numbers, and the growth of self-sufficiency in herd replacement. This also was an era of considerable prosperity as world commodity prices were high.

At the same time, the government was keen to provide the stability and know-how that could underpin British self-sufficiency. The Agriculture Act of 1947 put in place guaranteed prices and regular price reviews and much more emphasis was placed on technical training and innovation.

Among the important innovations was the introduction of silage which partially supplanted concentrates (which were rationed until 1953). In 1944, only 4,000 tons of silage had been made in Cheshire but this rose to 110,000 tons in 1950 and 180,000 tons in 1956.

During this period silage making was very labour intensive as it required buck-raking damp mown grass to silage pits where it had to be layered by hand with 4-pronged forks. The feeding of silage was equally demanding as it involves slicing down cuts (known colloquially as ‘wadges’ or ‘kenches’) from the silage face with a peat knife and then taking them by wheel-barrow to the shippons where they were forked again into the troughs or ‘boozies’ of the cattle housed in their winter stalls or ‘tyings’.

Beyond 1955, the pace of technical change accelerated. As the yield advantages of alternative breeds of cattle became obvious to everyone the Dairy Shorthorn became a farmer’s third choice. No longer available from Ireland, few took to breeding this type of cattle.

And as the ‘Milk Act’ of 1950 intensified the payment differential for milk for Tuberculin Tested milk, there was an additional incentive to bring in new stock.

This led at first to the development of new trading links with South Western Scotland and the importation of Ayrshire heifers. Eventually though higher yielding Friesian cattle came to predominate, aided by the availability of artificial insemination.

Tractors also became relatively cheaper and more economic on smaller farms, since ‘each horse needs 3 acres of land – such that a tractor releases 6 acres for alternative use when a team is dispensed with’.

In 1944, there were only about 2,550 tractors on farms in the whole of Cheshire. By 1954, the total had grown to around 8,300. Over the same period, the number of milking machines rose more slowly from around 2,300 to over 4,000 (hindered by the slow extension of access to the national electricity grid).

On Corner Farm, which we farmed from 1949, the latter problem had been solved by the installation of a diesel engine which drove the milking machine system and stored excess electricity in a special battery house for use in the house and buildings outside milking times.

With respect to tractors and machinery, there was constant improvement and we had Fordson Major and Massey Ferguson models. The TVO (Tractor Vaporising Oil) ‘Fergie’ was always a favourite and it was the precursor of modern tractor and implement systems, using hydraulics.

No doubt here there was also a version of 'mine is bigger than your's' going on with competition over toys for the boys. The early Fordsons were particularly impressive - and gratifyingly hard to start for the uninitiated. And even small farmers claimed to need their own baler though it was only used for a few weeks a year.

One of the most marked changes in the later period was the increase in milk yields with average yields rising from around 8,000 lbs per cow per year in 1952 to around 9,500 lbs per year in 1964. This was aided by the adoption of higher yielding breeds (particularly Friesians) and the strengthening of on-farm replacement which gave farmers a pride in seeing young-stock develop into productive heifers.

The concomitant to this was a renewed commitment to concentrates as an aid to production, with an average of 25 cwt per year being fed per cow – fostered obviously by the resumption in world trade after WWII. But the range of overseas feedstuffs continued to widen, embracing locust bean (Carob tree beans) from Egypt, tapioca chips from Thailand and dry sugar beet pulp from Poland.

As kids we used to eat the locust beans from the concentrates hand-cart in the shippons – as well as the rolled / flaked maize or ‘Uveco’ that came in large hessian bags and that was used particularly for poultry.

And the availability of AI (Artificial Insemination) aided small farms which could not afford to run a bull – and eventually allowed larger farms to largely dispense with their dangers. Getting the bull to stand for a veterinary examination by trapping his head with a chained yoke after he had taken some corn was no fun. And I still have a broken joint in my left thumb as a result of the farm bull brushing his head against the galvanized iron bars of his pen (with my thumb in between) when I was about 7 years old.

Friesians were also increasingly prized for the Hereford-cross calves that could be produced once the required number of replacement heifers had been bred. And these calves, together with the redundant male Friesian ‘Bobby calves’ were a major source of cash or ‘spattling brass’ and a marvellous excuse to regularly attend Beeston Auction (and the immediately adjacent ‘Beeston Castle’ pub to meet up with friends and share brown ale, scotch whiskey and anecdotes.

Despite the fact that Cheshire dairy farms had the densest stocking rates at around 28 cows per 100 acres, there was a constant drive to increase scale by either intensifying land-use or increasing farm size. On average (at 77 acres) Cheshire farms were small compared to farms elsewhere in England and three quarters of the farms in South Cheshire were below 100 acres in size in the early 1960s.

This held despite the view of the National Farmers’ Union President at this time that ‘for dairying, the family farm of 50 to 100 cows is most efficient’. But the available data shows that returns on larger farms were up to 50 percent higher than they were for smaller farms and there was constant pressure to amalgamate units.

This pressure was intensified by relative stability in the price of milk, with the expectation being that improvements in productivity would cover increases in the cost of inputs and labour.

As reported in the Nantwich Chronicle of December 5th 1964:

‘A member of the National Farmers’ Union pointed out that he had been getting about a penny per gallon less for his milk (in 1964) than he had in 1952 – yet during this same period, his rent had doubled’.

With respect to rents, the Peckforton Estate (by that time covering 31 farms) had increased its rents from £3 10s per acre in 1953 to £6 – £7 per acre in 1963. In the same period, the estimated value of the land rose from £75 to £200 per acre.

The net result was that farmers who failed to keep up with the treadmill of innovation, tended to fall behind in terms of income.

The emerging innovations included forage harvesters for silage, self-feed silage to cattle standing during the winter in yards with overnight housing in ‘cow kennels’, milking bails and tank storage, zero grazing (taking the cattle off the pasture and feeding it cut and chopped by harvesters) and the introduction of new forage crops like kale.

Of course, the pace of innovation has continued to pick up since the 1960s as ‘farmers become more scientific and the scientists become more practical ‘ [quote from Sir George Stapledon, UK Grassland Management Survey, 1935].

And as I record in my research ‘the farmers of Cheshire and Staffordshire received 1.33 million in 1963-64 in government grants for improvements in buildings and plant and the development of field crops' – not that this development received approval from the old school of farmers.

Looking again at my mini-thesis, I can see that the sentiments of the farmer’s son tended to outweigh judgments I could have made as an agricultural economist. I, like my stepfather, ended my study with something of a diatribe against government policies and the low prices set by the Milk Marketing Board.

My concluding sentence was that: ‘Government policy on foodstuffs is the greatest single factor behind the inadequate returns earned by milk producers’.

Sadly though, the reality was that we had never been among the innovators or among those who tried to increase their scale of operations.

My stepfather Horace had the fatalistic view that hard work should bring its own reward and little effort was made in labour-saving. And when he had the opportunity to take on the tenancy of Corner Farm in the late 1950s, he decided against taking the 150 acres that lay some distance along the lanes in favour of restricting the tenancy to the 65 acres that surrounded the farmhouse.

Incidentally, we milked at least 40 and sometimes more in the summer on the 65 acres. From the layout of the ‘Old Shippon’, the same farm back in the 1880s milked no more than 18.

Horace’s absolute commitment to the practical virtues of working with his hands exacerbated the heart condition that he had developed. And when the 1967 Foot and Mouth Outbreak occurred, Horace had a broken heart to nurse as well. It is a very hard thing to see the cattle that you care for shot and then bulldozed into limed pits.

Left to wander the desolate farm in the period following the Outbreak, his health deteriorated, though he must have taken some comfort from purchasing in-calf heifers for a re-start of production, as well as buying in some replacement gilts (young sows) for farrowing.

It seems that he insisted on layering fork in hand all the grass that had been brought in by buck-rake for the coming winter’s silage – and this mighty labour killed him. He became unable to mount the stairs to take to his ordinary bed upstairs and a bed was made up in one of the downstairs lounges across from the fire and the television. He died of heart failure on 4th August 1968.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Sally Darlington & the Kinseys of Burwardsley, Cheshire


A STRONG WOMAN WITH A BIT OF SIDE

My grandmother, Cheshire farmer’s wife Sarah ‘Sally’ Darlington, was a daunting, formidable but ultimately good-hearted lady who jousted and sparred with my mother. My mother was sometimes driven to fury at the things that were said – and in turn she gave as good as she got.

Of course, there is a very long tradition of strong women in the North West of England.

Cartimandua was the prototype. As mentioned by Tacitus in AD 51, she ruled the Brigantes of the North West with a succession of weaker husbands and consorts. Of "illustrious birth", she seems to have inherited her power by right rather than through marriage.

She handed the resistance leader Caratacus over to the Romans in chains, secured great wealth from the Romans, and then divorced her husband and married his young squire. Having seized her ex-husband’s brother as a hostage and fought off attempts to tame her, she was involved in further wars, treacherously playing off the local male leaders against the Romans.

Eventually she retired to the family hill fort to terrorize her sons and daughter in laws.

The tradition has also been illustrated repeatedly on the TV Soap Opera ‘Coronation Street’ with characters like Ena Sharples, Elsie Tanner, Annie Walker and Blanche Hunt - and laconically mocked under their breath by comedians from the North West:

"My mother-in-law said 'one day I will dance on your grave'. I said 'I hope you do, I will be buried at sea.'" [Les Dawson]

"My mother-in-law fell down a wishing well, I was amazed, I never knew they worked." [Les Dawson]

"I haven't spoken to my mother-in-law for eighteen months. I don't like to interrupt her." [Ken Dodd]

"A police recruit is asked during an exam, "What would you do if you had to arrest your own mother-in-law?" He replies, "I'd call for backup." [Bernard Manning]

"My mother-in-law has come round to our house at Christmas seven years running. This year we're having a change. We're going to let her in." [Les Dawson].

I still feel guilty making these kinds of associations – perhaps I will be called to account in my dreams tonight.

Both my mother and my grandmother had strong ideas about things and Sally liked ruling the roost with her three boys George, Horace and Richard. She intimidated them and Horace was 32 years old when he broke away. His younger brother Dick took even longer to fly the coop. And the boys’ father Herbert Darlington benefited of course from their ‘labours of love’ on the family farm Hoolgrave Manor, Church Minshull.

I still have very immediate memories of Hoolgrave Manor as it was in the period 1949 – 1955. With oil lamps as the only form of lighting and no external source of entertainment like TV, there was a tribal sense of hunkering down in the dark winter evenings by the open range fire in what seemed to me to be a vast farm kitchen, overshadowed by bacon curing among the rafters.

The conversation ranged over the offspring, weddings and funerals of the local farming families; farm sales and tenancies; auction prices for stock; milk and cheese prices; harvest prospects: fox hunting; point-to-point and steeple chase horse breeding and racing; and the follies and foibles of the local aristocracy.

Family history and genealogy provided the essential information for judging whether individuals were ‘oreet’ (i.e. alright or suitable). Sue and I, being orphans, were never quite sure that we measured up.

For all that, Sally sometimes Sally framed a lovely smile to light her deep set eyes and I felt very privileged to visit her in hospital with my father when she grew frail.

Sally was born Sarah Price Kinsey and I will now tell something of her story, with some comments on the social changes that her family experienced in the 19th century. The account can also linked to my next post which provides a brief review of the history of dairy farming in South Cheshire and summarizes the findings of some research that I did as a student back in 1965 on the agricultural economy that Sally’s sons faced.

THE KINSEYS AND PRICES OF BURWARDSLEY AND TATTENHALL

Sally was born in 1877. She was christened Sarah Price Kinsey. Her father, George Kinsey (born in 1843) was a dairy farmer. In 1891, George was farming Cambridge Farm, Burwardsley (pronounced ‘Bozley’) near Tattenhall, Cheshire, and in 1881 he was farming Grindley Brook Farm, Bunbury, Cheshire.

The 1881 Census records that Grindley Brook was a farm of 65 acres and that George was employing 2 labourers (one of whom, Joseph Clutton was ‘living in’ at the farm house). There was also a girl who was a house servant and who probably assisted with milking and cheese making.

Sally’s siblings were Thomas (b 1872), Elizabeth (b 1876), Frances May (b 1879) and Ada (b 1885). All of the children took Price as their middle name.

In the 1851 Census, George is recorded as a 7 year old boy, with siblings Robert, Ellen, Ann and John. His father George Kinsey (Snr) had been born in 1816 and the family farm at Burwardsley is recorded as being 20 acres. Living with the family was Moses Ellson, ‘retired farmer’ who was the father of Sarah, George’s wife. Moses would have been born around 1781.

As for the elder George Kinsey’s father, we find no trace of him in the censuses, though it is likely that George’s mother Mary is recorded as living independently in Bunbury in the 1841 Census (having also been born around 1781).

The Price’s were an equally well-established family. Sally’s mother Mary Price was born in 1842, the daughter of James Price (b 1813) and Frances Miller (bca 1818). It seems that Mary’s mother died at a young age. In the 1861 Census, Mary (19) was living with her mother’s sister Elizabeth (b 1815), and her grandfather John Price (b 1786) who was farming 30 acres at Tattenhall, Cheshire. Elizabeth was unmarried and John was widowed. No doubt Mary was helping out with dairy tasks.

In 1861, Mary’s father James was recorded in the Census as a butcher living with his brother George (39) at the latter’s public house the Bear and Ragged Staff Inn at Tattenhall. Also living with them were unmarried sisters Mary (47) and Jane (43), together with two house servants Martha and Margaret Clarke.













Further back in 1841, James is recorded as being 28 working as a butcher but living in Tattenhall with his innkeeper father George Senior and mother Martha (born born circa 1789) and siblings Thomas, Mary, Jane, Sarah and Hannah. Almost certainly, the management of the Bear and Ragged Staff Inn was handed down from father to son.

A simple story then it seems of Cheshire farmers, butchers and innkeepers all living within a very small compass. But this summary hides rapid change in dairy farming over the period 1840 to 1890 – of which a glimpse is caught in shift from 20-30 acre farms (which in the early part of the period sustained a family and several workers) to farms of double this size and greater in the second half of the 19th century as holdings were consolidated.

Even though there is a strong sense of continuity from the various censuses, there was plenty of change afoot – change that decimated the old half-timbered farmhouses and dispossessed hundreds of poorer families.

THE TOLLEMACHE ESTATES

Both Burwardsley and Tattenhall were very much part of the area that was ‘ruled’ by the Tollemache family.

John Jervis Tollemache (born John Halliday), 1st Baron Tollemache (5 December 1805 – 9 December 1890), was the son of Admiral John Richard Delap Halliday and co-heir of Lionel Tollemache, 4th Earl of Dysart. He was elected to the House of Commons for Cheshire South in 1841, a seat he held until 1868, and then represented Cheshire West from 1868 to 1872.

John Tollemache was the largest landowner in Cheshire in the 19th Century, owning 28,651 acres (115.9 km2). His estate exceeded those of the Duke of Westminster who owned 15,138 acres (61.3 km2), Lord Crewe with 10,148 acres (41.1 km2) and Lord Cholmondeley with 16,992 acres (68.8 km2).

He was considered by his peers to be a good estate manager and British Prime Minister William Ewart Gladstone (who had an estate at nearby Hawarden) described him as "the greatest estate manager of his day".

Tollemache had over fifty farms and many cottages built on his Cheshire estate, at a cost of around £280,000. This formed part of a grand scheme to consolidate the estate into larger farms that were better able to develop high quality cheese making.

But the downsides of all this were also serious. In the first place, the new farm houses meant the destruction of over 50 ancient buildings – though to be fair the new buildings have proved both durable and highly attractive.

And secondly, many small farmers and small-holders were dispossessed by the consolidation process.

To counter the social upheaval that he created, he encouraged the augmented class of labourers to rent 3 acres (12,000 m2) of land to farm to supplement their income.

Apparently, his catch-phrase for this was "three acres and a cow".

As written up his admirers: ‘He was generous to his tenants and advocated improvement of their social conditions. He believed in a self-reliant labouring class and made popular the idea of his tenants having a cottage with sufficient land to keep a few animals’.

[In 1844 – 1850, Lord Tollemache built Peckforton Castle on a massive scale as a replica of a Crusader castle. Set on the ridgeline of the Peckforton Hills, it cost around £60,000 and has been described as the last serious fortified home constructed by the nobility in England.

Built around a walled courtyard with battlements and towers, the castle stands opposite the genuinely medieval Beeston Castle, and is surrounded by a dry moat. George Gilbert Scott, the Victorian architect called it "the very height of masquerading".

Uninhabited since the Second World War, the castle has been used as a film and television location, and as a venue for civil weddings and live-action fantasy role playing. For example, it featured in the opening scenes of the 1991 movie ‘Robin Hood Prince of Thieves’ starring Kevin Costner].

So it is disturbing to reflect that much of the architecture and landscape that I knew as deeply historic when I was a boy was actually rather new in its form. The Victorian-era castles with their surrounding manicured estates attempted to recreate a feudal sense of stability and continuity – masking the severe social and economic disruptions that were imposed from above by the large landowners.

It seems then that the ‘sturdy and independent yeoman farmers’ that I idealized – and idolized - when I was young were partly creatures of myth. The Kinseys and Prices really had to struggle to stay ‘oreet’ among the Middling Sort.

Having said that, there is always the story that was handed down about my grandfather Herbert Darlington being so vexed that his aristocratic landlord had not met a promise about paying for house and farm improvements when he took up a tenancy – and so bothered no doubt by his young wife’s sharp tongue on the subject – that he took his pony and trap and drove it across the garden in front of the ‘Big House’, ruining all the flower beds.

When all is said and done, faced with choosing between angering the toffs and fending off the nagging of his young wife Sally, Herbert really didn’t have any sort of choice.