Ascent of Durham Cathedral Central Tower

A few days ago I booked myself in for what I thought would be a 'tour' of the monstrously-high Central Tower of Durham Cathedral. At 218ft (66m) in height it has dominated everything within eyeshot of the city for several hundred years. Anyway, I booked online (£7.50) and made my way to the mighty edifice with some trepidation.

(click on images for expanded views)

I couldn't just go for the 'Tower Tour', of course. I got there early and had a general poke around. I'd been many times before, but the place is so immense that you always find something 'new' there - some artefact, corner, or memorial that you hadn't noticed previously.

This time I checked out the Chapter House (featured in a couple of the Harry Potter movies - hence all the kids milling about!), sought out the Bishop's Chair (or 'Cathedra' - a lofty affair, being the highest in Christendom, apparently), and admired the workmanship on the supporting pillars ... as well as the lovely examples of worked Frosterley Marble.

There's loads to see - far too much, really, for a single visit - so it's best to take things in in small bites over multiple visits. Anyway, it was now almost noon, so I made my way to the foot of the imposing spiral staircase next to the magnificent Prior Castell's Clock.

Having picked up my lanyard, I awaited my 'guide' ... only to be told that we were all to simply make the journey skyward unaccompanied. So off I trekked.

The climb starts off easily enough, but then begins to narrow - though not to the alarming extent that the ascent of Newcastle Cathedral tower does! But the task is a good deal more challenging, on account of there being an astonishing 320+ steps! It isn't easy, though there is a nice gallery half-way up providing information boards about the tower.

On emerging into the light at the tower's summit, you are free to wander as you wish over the rooftop. Strong stonework and iron railings prevent any chance of a trip to your doom, but it is, nevertheless, very, very high. I hung on firmly to my camera!

Looking down to the entrance.

The almost-as-impressive Western Towers - they had spires on them until 1658.

Durham Castle to the north.

What a view! ... towards HMP Durham in the east.

The tower is thought to have been originally built in the early thirteenth century, but after a lightning strike was replaced in the fifteenth century. There is a story that, originally, there was a plan to plant something ornamental on the tower's top - perhaps even a 'lantern' akin to that on Newcastle's cathedral. Now that would have been quite something! Further restoration followed during 1859-60, as well as various other repairs from time to time.

We had been allocated an hour for our self-led tour. It takes about ten minutes to get up there, the same to get (gingerly) down, and after ten or fifteen minutes of nausea-inducing sightseeing at the top, well, you'll probably find yourself back at ground level before your time is up.

Still worth it, though!

John Forster of Fenkle Street & His Dickens Connections

John Forster, one of Victorian England’s most prominent political journalists, literary critics and biographers, was born on 2nd April 1812, in what was described as a “little yellow house … in Fenkle Street”, Newcastle. Curiously, his life was almost exactly contemporaneous with that of author Charles Dickens, who was also born in 1812, but who died six years prior to Forster in 1870. The two men would become unlikely friends, with Forster going on to pen the first, and perhaps most definitive, biography of the great wordsmith, which was completed in 1874 as the Life of Charles Dickens.

Forster came from a well-to-do ancestral lineage; but by the time John was born in 1812, the fortunes of his particular line had fallen considerably. His father, Robert, was a butcher and cattle-dealer in Newcastle, who, it was said, married “slightly beneath himself” – his wife, Mary, being the daughter of a Gallowgate cow-keeper. John was the second-born child of four, and though his father has remained relatively obscure, his mother was remembered as “a gem of a woman”, being kind and affectionate in the extreme. The family were financially comfortable, though not excessively so.

When he was still a child, the family moved around the corner to Low Friar Street; and then, when John was 16, onto 5 Green Court (the entrance to which was across Newgate Street from Darn Crook). None of their abodes were especially opulent, but they always aimed high – the family being members of the congregation of the Unitarian meeting house in Hanover Square, regarded in hindsight now, perhaps, as an enlightened, progressive force in the town. John was schooled at the Royal Grammar School, then situated on Westgate Road, and grew up to be a well-balanced, kindly soul, much like his mother, effortlessly advancing to the role of Head Boy. By 16 he was already physically and intellectually mature, and a keen antiquarian and bookworm, to boot. He frequented the Literary & Philosophical Society, garnered an interest in journalism and, especially, the theatre, of which he was a passionate follower. He even had a play of his own performed at the (old) Theatre Royal when he was a mere 16.

Richard Renton, in his biographical John Forster and His Friendships of 1912, tells of our man’s surprising emergence from his “murky” and “grimy” native Newcastle. John Forster, being one of the very few men of letters to so emerge from this supposed cultural backwater, nevertheless picked up friends and acquaintances aplenty along his way in life, carefully guided in his early years by his Uncle John – who also helped him secure a place at Cambridge University. He soon thereafter moved to the newly-formed University College, London, studying law; and though he eventually entered the Inner Temple, he never became a practising lawyer. Instead, he followed his preferred path, becoming, eventually, a respected literary and drama critic. Additionally, he wrote to considerable acclaim, including Lives of the Statesmen of the Commonwealth (1836-39) and a Treatise on the Popular Progress in English History. His much admired efforts and influence grew year-on-year, and he soon began moving in the upper echelons of the literary world. Among the great and the good he befriended was the world-famous Charles Dickens, who was only too pleased to entrust Forster with the scrutiny of his future novels – which Forster read in their hand-written, manuscript form, and, no doubt, suggested amendments and corrections where necessary. What better way to beat the critics than to have the premier literary commentator of the day scrutinise your work prior to publication?

Throughout his career he edited several esteemed periodicals, and penned many biographical and historical essays. Though for some years he had been preparing a biography of Jonathan Swift, he dropped this in favour of a similar tribute – a lengthy two-volume biography of his friend Charles Dickens, published in 1872 and 1874, respectively, in the wake of the novelist’s death. He never did get that Swift biography properly finished prior to his own death in London in 1876. Additionally, it should be mentioned that Forster was also heavily involved with the work of the Lunacy Commission during 1855-72.

His valuable collection of manuscripts, including many original hand-written copies of Dickens’ novels, were bequeathed to South Kensington Museum. All of the many subsequent studies of Dickens’ life have, of course, leant heavily on Forster’s original biographical work, as well as the considerable archive he left on his death. His influence over and interactions with the great novelist have even secured mention for Forster as a character in several fictionalised works centred on the life of Dickens in the decades following their respective deaths.

Note: It is unlikely Forster had any offspring; though a widow, Eliza Ann, is mentioned in the inscription on the family vault in Kensal Green Cemetery. They had married in 1856 – perhaps a little too late to have children.

Additionally, as well as Richard Renton’s work detailed above, readers may wish to seek out John Forster: A Literary Life by James A. Davis (1983).

[taken from my latest book Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Fragments of the Past, vol.3 - see left-hand column, and click on the link for further info]

Alston Arches, Haltwhistle: Some Observations

Every time I scoot past Haltwhistle on the A69 bypass, I glance over at the famous Alston Arches and wonder at their peculiar form. It's the line of mini archways running through the piers that grab my attention. It is a very unusual feature of an otherwise robust piece of civil engineering. So this week I decided to go and have a closer look.

Firstly, I wanted to get a nice view through those archways - and, yes, they line up beautifully. How very strange:

I took a few more snaps....

(This last one is taken from the opposite, southern end)

(from OS Maps - Alston Arches Viaduct can be seen slightly right of centre) 

The Alston Arches viaduct was built in around 1850 to facilitate the movement of passengers and especially industrial stuff (lead, mainly) to and from, well, Alston. The line leaves Haltwhistle Station and bends gracefully over the River South Tyne, before heading south. It is a thing of beauty, but that line of arches has puzzled historians for decades. For no one quite knows why they are there. It was once assumed that there was a plan to drive a footway/bridge through the gaps for pedestrian/cart use, which is a lovely (and surely unique) concept; but others think it more likely that they were built into the bridge's construction to lighten the structure's weight, which is, after all, only supported by timber piles.

The bridge was finished in 1851, officially opened in November 1852, then half-destroyed by a flood a month later. It was repaired, but the southernmost pier, being completely rebuilt, was NOT provided with a little archway as per the rest of the bridge's substructure. So if the idea was to build a pedestrian walkway through the piers, well, the plan was clearly abandoned following the flood. On the other hand, maybe it was a 'weight thing' - who knows?

There are plenty of info boards and plaques, mind you. As you can see, the viaduct's useful existence didn't last more than a couple of decades, though it hung on for a good deal longer - before finally being closed in 1976:

(click on images to enlarge)

So, yes, the viaduct is now cross-able on foot, to which lofty spot I found myself quite accidentally by a somewhat circuitous route:

(looking south)

A few other observations. Down at river level I noticed that the (concrete?) base over which the water flows was reinforced with what look like lengths of old railway lines:

And I also noticed that inside the first mini archway, many of the large stones on the floor had Lewis holes in them. They were about three inches long and quite crudely made - which made me wonder if they could be repurposed Roman stones. Lewis holes, though, were in use right up until the twentieth century, so maybe not:

Despite my hour's worth of investigative probings, I'm still none the wiser about those pesky mini archways. Wish I was an expert on Lewis holes, too. Still, my curiosity has been satisfied, and it's one more little task ticked off my history bucket list.

Any input from someone who has a better understanding of these things would be greatly appreciated! 

The Palace Theatre of Varieties, Haymarket

Whenever I ‘gan doon the toon’ I invariably call in at the Oxfam shop on the corner of Percy Street and St.Thomas Street. The block of properties on this small parcel of land is an untidy affair: low-level, temporary-looking efforts, which do nothing for the general demeanour of the streetscape thereabouts. I’m on the hunt for second-hand books, of course - it being one of the few establishments in the city centre to offer such fare. Just round the corner, on St.Thomas Street, and forming part of the same uninspiring block, can be found a couple of other businesses, one of which, The Mean-Eyed Cat micropub, often separates me from my money from time to time, too.

Though there isn’t much to please the eye architecturally on this otherwise quite handy little spot, this hasn’t always been so. For, until c.1960, the site was occupied by the fancily-named ‘Palace Theatre of Varieties’. Built in the 1880s, it is perhaps best known for being the very first venue in the city to show moving pictures - movies, in other words - which notable event occurred on Thursday 26th March 1896. The ‘Cinematographe’, as it was called, was offered up to the public for about a week and a half, the theatre beating its main rival, the Empire Theatre of Varieties on Newgate Street, by a mere two days to this historic first. A promotional leaflet/poster informs us in March 1896 that “This commodious theatre has been reconstructed, handsomely redecorated, elaborately upholstered and magnificently lighted by electricity, and is acknowledged to be the favourite place of amusement in the city”. Better than the Oxfam bookshop and The Mean-Eyed Cat, then.

The double-headed rivalry between the two Newcastle theatres represented a very early move for the UK’s provinces in the world of ‘movies’, the craze seemingly migrating from London straight to Tyneside, missing out the country’s other major cities. The films themselves were nothing to get especially excited about, being little more than peep-show-type efforts lasting a few seconds - with titles like ‘Cats Dancing’ or ‘Acrobat Turning Somersaults’ - but the die had been cast. Within months, both theatres were showing greater ambition - with colour films making the breakthrough as early as 1897. Surprisingly, though, moving pictures never really took off until the technology improved in the Edwardian era. In the meantime, institutions like the Palace Theatre of Varieties reverted to, well, theatre-like entertainment for the most part.

The establishment had begun life as the People’s Palace, a theatre which seems to have been founded/built in the 1880s. It was reconstructed in the 1890s, as per above, reopening as the ‘Palace Theatre of Varieties’ in December 1895. Its new manager, Thomas Barrasford, was an early enthusiast of the ‘moving pictures’ phenomenon - hence the groundbreaking move of March 1896.

The heavily-revamped affair had a three-tier auditorium capable of seating between 3 and 4,000 folk. There was also an orchestra pit, and ‘four handsomely furnished boxes’ - and every seat in the house had an unrestricted and full view of the stage. The newly-appointed venue was lauded in the press and supported enthusiastically by local dignitaries.

As early as 1903 the theatre was deemed to be in need of yet another sprucing-up, as well as not a little further restructuring. The following image is dated 11th July 1906, and shows the theatre to the left, and St.Thomas Street stretching into the distance:

The theatre now had marble stairs, mahogany dadoes and panelling, richly-embossed wallpaper, decoratively plastered ceilings (featuring paintings), and ‘heavy carpets’. The colour scheme was ‘cream and gold’.

It remained thus until the 1940s, when its facade was radically altered. Then, after a period of gradual decline, the Palace Theatre of Varieties was closed in 1958 due to a radical downturn in touring shows - and demolition followed in 1961. As far as I’m aware nothing much happened to the site thereafter until the eventual appearance of the present-day gaggle of low quality establishments.

Above: The Palace Theatre, c.1960. It has just been closed, sold, and was due for demolition. Note the remodelled facade of the 1940s. St.Thomas Street turns away to the right.

Note: The first establishment in Newcastle city centre which was dedicated solely to showing films was the original Olympia ‘tin’ cinema on Northumberland Road, which operated as such for a few short, experimental months in 1903. This later burned down in 1907, and was replaced with a second incarnation in 1909.

[Major sources - both quite excellent - are the 'Music Hall and Theatre History website' at www.arthurlloyd.co.uk/Newcastle/PalaceTheatreNewcastle.htm and Frank Manders’ Cinemas of Newcastle (2005)]

[The images are copyright-free but have been sourced at Newcastle Libraries Flickr page at www.flickr.com/photos/39821974@N06/ ]