Transcribed from the 1899 W. K. Morton edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
RECORDS OF WOODHALL SPA
AND
NEIGHBOURHOOD;
HISTORICAL, ANECDOTAL,
PHYSIOGRAPHICAL,
AND ARCHÆOLOGICAL,
WITH
OTHER MATTER.
BY
J. CONWAY WALTER,
_Author of_ “_Letters from the Highlands_,” “_Forays among Salmon and
Deer_,” “_Literæ Laureatæ_,” “_The Ayscoughs_.”
_Notes on Parishes Round Horncastle_, _&c._
HORNCASTLE:
W. K. MORTON, HIGH STREET.
INTRODUCTION.
The series of “Records” of various kinds which will be found in the
following chapters are drawn from personal reminiscences, extending over
more than half a century, combined with notes collected from many
different sources during at least two-thirds of that period. In dealing
with such material one is apt, even unconsciously, to be egotistical, and
to linger too long and too fondly over scenes and incidents of which one
might say, in Virgilian phrase, _quorum pars_, _si non magna_, _at parva
fui_. Should the reader deem any portions unduly prolix, he will,
perhaps, kindly excuse it on this score. But I have known several
instances, and especially of late two in this neighbourhood, when a
person advanced in years and of wide experience, has passed away, and
there has been a general, and doubtless sincere, regret that he has gone,
and all his store of accumulated information gone with him.
Circumstances have given me such opportunities—and enjoyed so long—of
acquiring a knowledge of Woodhall Spa, and of most matters connected with
it, that I am probably stating only the unvarnished truth, when I say
that no one else living could bring together the varied details, however
inadequately treated, which will here be found. Some of them may seem of
small importance in the eyes of many—“caviare to the general”—but I have
thought it better that even these minor details should not be consigned
to the limbo of the forgotten, because unrecorded.
I have approached the subject from different points of view—historical,
anecdotal, naturalist, and archæological, so as to cater for the
different tastes of readers.
Inheriting an interest in Woodhall Spa, hallowed by cherished
associations, my aim has been so to unfold its many attractions, even in
beast, bird, and flower, as to communicate an interest in it to others as
well.
In publishing a third issue of these Records, I am bound in duty to thank
a wide circle of readers for the interest so far taken in the work. I
had now hoped to give it a more attractive form, but the low price at
which a guide-book must be sold, in order to bring it within the reach of
a general public, precludes a more expensive “get-up” of the volume. The
only change, therefore, has been that the edition is brought “up to date”
by a few necessary corrections and additions. To future readers I would
only say, in Ovidian phrase:—
Si qua meo fuerint, ut erunt, vitiosa libello,
Excusata, precor, Lector amicus, habe.
J. CONWAY WALTER.
CHAPTER I. THE HISTORY OF THE WELL.
It has been remarked that the discovery of many of our medicinal springs
has been due to some romantic incident, or, in other cases, to some
occurrence partaking almost of the ludicrous. At the famed Carlsbad, for
instance, a princely hunter pursues his stag into the lake where it has
sought refuge, whereupon the unusual cries of his hounds, too eagerly
breasting the waters, speedily reveal to him the strongly thermal nature
of the spring which feeds the lake, and the discovery has benefited the
thousands who annually frequent that health-giving resort from almost
every land. On the other hand, in the case of our own Bath, although
well known to the ancient Romans—as also in the later case of
Bolsover—tradition avers that an unhealthy pig, instinctively “wallowing
in the mire” produced by the oozing spring, and emerging from the
uncleanly bath cured of its ailment, was the humble instrument to
demonstrate the health-restoring power of the water, to the subsequent
advantage of suffering humanity. Other cases, more or less legendary,
might be adduced; let these suffice.
The discovery, however, of the Woodhall water, if leas romantic, is no
myth, shrouded in the mystery of a distant past, since it has the
advantage of being, comparatively, of so recent a date, that the
historian can consult the contemporary testimony of eyewitnesses still
living, or of those to whom others have related the particulars from
their own personal knowledge. The following account has been thus
collected, and put into connected form:—
In the early years of this 19th century there lived a certain John
Parkinson, Esquire, a scion of a family of position and wealth in the
county, who owned, with other property, the estate of Woodhall. {5}
Being of a speculative and enterprising bent of mind, it is said that he
became enamoured of three ideas or projects, which he thought he had the
means and opportunity of carrying out. One of these was to sink a coal
mine, a second was to plant a forest, and a third was to build a city.
For the last purpose he purchased from the Crown a tract of fenland,
situated between Revesby and Boston, being an outlying allotment of the
original ancient parish of Bolingbroke. Here be built (about 1816) a
street of houses, which he named New Bolingbroke. The speculation,
however, proved a failure, probably owing to the loneliness of the
position; and it was not till several years later, when the property had
passed into the possession of J. Banks Stanhope, Esq., of Revesby Abbey,
who spent much money on needed improvements, that the new “city” became a
fairly populous village, as it is at the present time.
Mr. Parkinson’s second project was the planting of a forest. For this
purpose he secured a large tract of waste moorland, in the parishes of
Roughton and Kirkby, lying to the south of the present road to
Horncastle, and within some two miles eastward of Woodhall Spa. This
land he planted extensively with fir and oak, and in course of time they
became a dense wood. This growth has since then been largely destroyed
by fire, or has yielded to the woodman’s axe, and at the present time
there are left not more than forty acres of the original “forest,” the
rest being chiefly open moor, the whole going by the name of “Ostler’s
Plantations,” Mr. Ostler being the agent employed in the work and
becoming himself (as will be seen) eventually the proprietor. Thus of
two eggs which Mr. Parkinson brooded over, and desired to hatch, one may
be said to have been addled, and the other did not prove useful to
himself:—
The best laid plans of mice and men
Gang aft agley.
We now come to the third “incubation,” which has, it may fairly be said,
proved (though once more, not to himself) a “golden egg.” It has been
observed that he had conceived the idea of searching for coal. For this
purpose he selected a spot which has since become the site of the
Woodhall well. It is said that he was guided in this by the advice of a
Mr. J. Clarkson, residing at that time at Moorby, not far from his
residence at Bolingbroke, and who had had some previous experience among
the Yorkshire coal mines. The boring was begun in the year 1811, and was
carried on under the supervision of Mr. Clarkson. When the shaft had
reached a depth of about 540ft., there occurred an inrush of clear, salt
water, which compelled the excavators to retreat. The work was, however,
afterwards resumed, a brick conduit for the water being constructed, and
so, at the cost of great labour, and by shifts of men working day and
night, without intermission, a depth of over 1,000ft. was attained. It
is said (we know not with what truth) that Mr. Parkinson and his agent
were induced to go on with the boring to this extent, because the men
brought up in their pockets fragments of coal (which they had of course
themselves taken down), and the hopes of success were thus buoyed up.
When, however, this depth of 1,000ft. had been attained, and no vein of
coal discovered, the unfortunate proprietor was compelled, from lack of
funds, to abandon the enterprise. The boring to such a depth was, of
course, a work extending over a lengthy period, and the occasional
exhibition of these fragments of coal by the labourers led to false
reports of success being periodically circulated. It is said that there
were frequent scenes of great excitement at Mr. Parkinson’s residence;
persons of all classes, even the poor, flocking thither to lend their
money to him on the bare security of his notes of hand, hoping themselves
to derive a large profit from the expected mine. On one occasion the
bells of Horncastle Parish Church were rung in the night, announcing the
joyful tidings that coal had been found. But, alas! all these hopes were
illusory. Mr. Parkinson himself became a ruined man, and many a poor
investor lost his all, sunk in the mine. The attempt thus proving
abortive, the mine was closed, and remained so for several years, Mr.
Parkinson himself disappearing from the scene, and his Woodhall property
passing into other hands—the ancestors of the present owners of the
estate. As the result of this collapse, other portions of Mr.
Parkinson’s property in the neighbourhood also changed hands. Mr.
Ostler, who has been already mentioned, had advanced to him large sums of
money, and in lieu of repayment he acquired the “Forest,” since in
consequence (as I have said) called “the Ostler Plantations,” and which
still remains the property of his representatives.
During the making of the shaft a serious accident occurred. Two men were
below in the shaft working at the bore, a man being at the top to hoist
them, by machinery, to the surface, to be out of danger whenever, in the
process of boring, an explosion was about to take place. They had
arranged their explosive for a blast, had lighted the fuse, and then gave
the signal to be hoisted up; but the man at the mouth of the mine had
gone to sleep, their signal was disregarded, and they were left unable to
help themselves. The explosion took place; one of them, William East by
name, was killed, and his body much mangled; the other man, Tyler, was
seriously injured, but escaped with his life. {8a}
A poem was written on the occasion by Mr. John Sharpe, of Kirkstead, {8b}
which I here give. The rural muse was somewhat unclassical in those
days, and versions vary, but it was in the main as follows:—
It was early one morning, the 15th of June,
I was called from my bed by a sorrowful tune;
With sad lamentations a mother appeared,
And sad were the tidings I then from her heard. {8c}
“Our William,” she said, “has been killed in the pit;
Another is injured, but not dead yet.
By firing some powder to blow up the stone,
Poor William was killed, and he died with a groan.”
I put on my clothes, and I hastened away.
Till I came to the place where poor William lay.
He lay on some sacks all covered with gore:
A sight so distressing, I ne’er saw before.
I inwardly thought, as his wounds were laid bare.
How many before had been slain in the war. {8d}
In a moment of time he was summoned away;
How needful that we, too, should watch and should pray.
The Lord help us all through our hopes and our fears,
To live to his praise all our days and years.
The pit, once closed, remained so for some years, and there seemed no
prospect of anything but loss accruing from the undertaking. But
meanwhile, as time passed on, “Mother Earth” was in labour. The water in
the shaft gradually accumulated, eventually reaching the surface, and
then overflowed, running down an adjoining ditch, which skirted what is
now called “Coal-pit Wood.” This overflow naturally attracted attention.
Such things as “Spas” were not unknown. There was one at Lincoln, not
far from the present Arboretum, and the Woodhall water being found to be
_salt_, as was said, like sea water, several persons tried it for
different purposes. A very old man (living, in 1899, at Kirkby-on-Bain)
{9a} states that he and several others in that parish used the water as a
purgative (a property which it still retains). Others used it as
increasing the appetite (one of the effects still remarked). Joseph
East, lately resident at Kirkstead, and brother of the man killed in the
pit, was sent, as a boy, to get a bottle of it to administer to a sick
horse. The Squire, Mr. T. Hotchkin, found it very beneficial for his
gout, and the servant, who brought the water for him, mentioned this to a
woman at Horsington, named Coo, suffering from rheumatism. By the advice
of her doctor, she tried the water, and was completely cured. In
October, 1903, died Mrs. Wilson, mother of Robert Wilson, gardener, of
Martin Dales, aged 92. She was the oldest patient then living who had
baths at Woodhall before the first bath-house was built. There was only
a wooden bath, at a charge of 1s. per bath. Many similar {9b} cases are
recorded by the older inhabitants, which proved beyond doubt the efficacy
of the water in the ailments of man and beast, especially for rheumatism
and skin diseases.
This led to the re-opening of the mine shaft about the year 1824. In
1829, or 1830, a small protecting structure was erected, a windlass was
put up, which was worked by a horse walking round and round, drawing the
water from “the well,” as it came now to be termed, and an open brick
tank was constructed in which the poor could dip, a veritable modern
Siloam. {9c}
In 1834 a bath house was erected by the late Thomas Hotchkin, Esq., the
then owner of Woodhall, and in the following year the Victoria Hotel was
built by him, his whole outlay amounting to some £30,000. Provision was
thus made for the reception of visitors, and the treatment of their
ailments on a scale more than adequate for the public requirements at the
time. Dr. Barton, Dr. Scott, and other medical practitioners
successively resided at the Spa, but for some years longer (as will be
shewn in the next chapter) the difficulty of access prevented any great
influx of patients, such as we have seen in more recent times, and a
primitive state of things still prevailed, such as in these days can be
hardly realised, and Woodhall Spa was probably for some years little
known beyond the neighbourhood, or the county.
About sixty years ago a second well (remembered only as little more than
a floating, vague tradition) was sunk on other property, not far from the
present Mill-lane, near Kirkstead Station. A solitary survivor of the
workmen engaged in sinking it died in 1897, well known to the writer.
This well was subsequently filled in again, the water being (as was said)
too _salt_ for use. It is more probable that the water tasted strongly
of iron, as the local water, found within a few feet of the surface, is
generally impregnated with this ingredient, so much so, that it commonly
“ferrs” water bottles if allowed to stand any time in them, this being
the effect of its ferruginous properties.
An account of the well would hardly be complete without some particulars,
so far as they can be obtained, of the geological strata which were
pierced by the shaft. These are said to have been gravel and boulder
clay, Kimmeridge and Oxford clays, Kelloway’s rock, blue clay, cornbrash,
limestone, great oolite, clay and limestone, upper Estuarine clay,
Lincolnshire oolite, and Northampton sands, Lias, upper, middle, and part
of lower.
Of the chemical ingredients of the water, as several accounts have been
given by different authorities, it is sufficient to say here that its two
most important elements are the iodine and bromine, in both of which it
far exceeds any other Spa. The only known water which contains a greater
proportion of bromine is that of the Dead Sea, in Palestine.