The tragic deaths of Thomas Gillespie, his son Thomas, and John Huddlestone. Kentmere 1838

The tragic deaths of Thomas Gillespie, his son Thomas, and John Huddlestone. Kentmere 1838

Thomas Gillespie was a 50-year-old Woodreef who lived at Bank (or Bankhog) House (*now a barn), Kentmere Hall, with his wife Mary and their children, on the estate of Christopher Wilson of Rigmaden. (A modern equivalent to a Woodreef/reeve is a Woodland Ranger.) One of the children was 14-year-old Thomas, and on the night of Friday 26^th October 1838, they were joined by 44-year-old John Huddlestone, a tailor and bachelor, of Staveley.

Kentmere Hall

He stayed the night with them and in the morning, they set off together with the Gillespie family terrier to go fishing at Hayeswater Tarn, which was approximately six miles away, towards Hartsop village, in Patterdale, with the intention of returning that evening.

Hayeswater (Tarn), with the modern dam now removed and returned to the original level of 1838.

The weather worsened and even in the sheltered Kentmere valley it was described as a terrible day, with the water higher than could be remembered. The winds were strong, with snow now falling, and the conditions were expected to be far worse on the high surrounding fells. Even those with an intimate knowledge of the mountains would have found the severe weather very challenging and there were no places of shelter on the fell tops. When they did not return that night Mary began to slip into a terrible state of anxiety. As Sunday progressed and there was still no sign of them, she sought out another resident, Reginald Sharpe and told him of her plight. On Monday morning he went with Henry Hogarth and a dog, over Garburn Pass, then through Troutbeck Park, to Kirkstone, and descended into Patterdale.

Kentmere from Garburn Pass.

They enquired all along the route to no avail, but at Hartsop they were told a man and a boy had gone into Mr. Gelderd’s house, The Kings Arms, in a very wet state. With their spirits temporarily lifted they went there only to find that they were not the Gillespie family. They then set off for Hayeswater, but a search there also revealed no clue of the missing party’s whereabouts. They then checked Hayeswater Gill that feeds the Water from Thornthwaite Crag, but to no avail. By now time was advancing and they were despairing of finding the party. On the high route back to Garburn Pass along the fells and near Glad Grove Gill, they were met by a small terrier dog which had ran out barking at their own. They immediately recognised the terrier as being the Gillespie family dog.

The hills to the west of Kentmere, left to right - Yoke, Ill Bell, Froswick and the path to Thornthwaite Crag. Glad Grove Gill is to the right of Froswick. 

They quickly went into the gill and found all three dead. Mr. Gillespie was lying on his back and his face upwards, his son was lying between his father’s thighs, leaning on the left one with his arms entwined around it; he had a piece of oatmeal in his mouth. Mr. Huddleston was lying a few yards away, face down. Both men had flasks of rum on them, Mr. Gillespie’s was part consumed and Mr. Huddlestone’s was empty. It was now 5pm and the two searchers were forced to leave the bodies, taking only the terrier back with them to Kentmere. The next morning, they returned with other residents and brought the three bodies back to the village and the grieving Mrs. Gillespie.

An inquest was held at the Low Bridge Inn on Tuesday 30^th October, before the coroner Mr. R. Wilson Esquire. It could only be conjectured that the three were returning to their native Kentmere valley via the high route and had become overtaken by the inclement weather and had sought what shelter they could in the gill. The had become benighted, had fallen asleep and starved to death in the cold conditions. A verdict of ‘Found Dead’ was returned.

Mary was now a grieving widow and had five other children to care for, three of whom were very young. Local gentlemen began a subscription for her, and the local Westmorland Gazette paper encouraged their readers to donate generously, the Bank of Westmorland being the place where donations could be sent or deposited. Although no final amount was advertised, a meeting was arranged to take place at 10:30am on 28^th March 1839 at the bank, to decide on the best method of apportioning the money subscribed.

It is unclear what happened to the Gillespie family but there is no record of them living in the valley in the census of 1841.

Such a tragedy touches a community at a very personal level, the subscription was one form of the community’s expression of grief and humanity. Another was displayed in the form of words of a poetic nature, where that greater expression was openly displayed in the 8^th December 1838 edition of the Westmorland Gazette, the full article being:

ORIGINAL STANZAS, On the three unfortunate persons, Huddlestone, Gillespie and bis son, who perished amidst a snowstorm, and were found lying dead beside each other on High-street hill, betwixt Kentmere and Ullswater, October 1838.

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Reader, hast thou ever been

Amidst that wild, stupendous scene,

Mountainous High-street and its rock-pil'd height

Of shelving cliffs and precipices bare,

The eagles stronghold and the foxes’ lair

Whose rav'nous cries the timid sheep affright,

Re-echoed from the gloomy caverns there.

Pleasant it is in Summer's opening prime,

The craggy sides of this said hill climb,

And from its, summit see the ardent beam

Of morning light o'er eastern landscape stream;

Magnificent the view—

Wood, water, hill and dale.

And the green-pastur'd vale,

By the sun's bright rays tinged with a golden hue.

Here, stretching far away,

a dimly-purpled gray,

The distant mountain-peaks enthron'd in clouds;

And, closer still at hand,

Shepherds and flocks a joyous band,

Bask in the shade, that from the heat them shrouds.

Woe to the traveller, in winter time

Doom'd this hill's bleak hill’s ridge to climb,

’Midst mists and drizzling rain,

And gusts of wind which roar amain:-

The pelting storm sweeps by, -

Who his dang'rous way could wend,

Through deathly perils without end.

No hand to guide, no friendly shelter nigh;

Many have tried

To thread the murky gloom and perilous maze

Of the hill-path, and far from human gaze

 Have droop'd and died!

Weary and faint, they sat them down,

To rest on the steep hill side,

The eagle from his nest had flown,

On the tempest-wind to ride.

Ah! who shall stay the raging storm,

Ye hapless, death-doom'd men;

The snow-cloud drifts its awful form,

To whiten cliff and glen.

The angry sleet show'ring fast,

How can ye onward go!

The swollen stream is hurrying past.

And the boiling torrents flow.

Now bid farewell to hearth and home,

In vain you gaze around—

Poor souls! to you no help will come,

None hear that wailing sound.

“O had we never ventured here,” –

Methinks you thus might say,

“Our bones had found some other bier.

Than in snowy shroud to lay: -

“And who shall list our dying groan,

Save the wild birds shrieking nigh;

No friend to soothe the struggling moan,

And close the sunken eye.

"A cold, cold hand is on our heart,

Its blood will soon congeal;

Yet, ere we thus from life depart

Together let us kneel:-

“Tho bootless is all human aid,

And sad our destiny,

Father! On Heav’n our hope is stayed,

We lift our pray’rs to thee!

“Since, life must end at thy command,

Resign'd we yield our breath:"—

Then, clasp'd together hand in hand,

They calmly sunk in death.

And now the tempest-storm o'er,

The wind is hush'd and still:

Although the gushing torrents roar,

Down High-street’s rugged hill.

And over Hartsop’s village bright,

The golden sunbeams shine,

Hayswater tarn gleams with the light-

But hark! - that piteous whine.

The shepherd hies him on apace,

Towards his faithful Tray;

Three dismal forms he soon can trace,

Stiffen’d and cold as clay.

And some who shall say in Kentmere vale

What sorrows there is known,

When yonder widow hears the tale—

She's husbandless and lone!

And for her sake, her children's too,

Shall pity’s tears not flow,

And charity their sufferings view

And gentle aid bestow!

M.

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The sad incident is now over 180 years old, but still touches the modern soul, not sanitised by the passing of time. Local people and tourists alike have a common interest in leisure on the Lakeland fells, just as the three men had in 1838. It is not believed any headstones were erected, certainly none remain. With the Gillespie's not staying in the valley and Mr. Huddlestone having no descendants to remember his passing, it had slipped from the memory of the community. I have spoken with two local historians who were unaware of the tragedy. Kentmere is a close community and I am sure in now being reunited with this piece of history, tragic as it is, they will be keen to reflect on the passing of the three, and also feel great sympathy for the plight of Mary Gillespie and her five remaining children.

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