MAURICE MILNE tells the tragi-comic tale of the self-styled Countess of Derwent-water.
“DEMOCRACY began at Dilstone Castle on the first of October, 1868, when Amelia, Countess and heiress of Darwentwater, was dragged by brutal force from her Grandfather's home, Dilstone hereditary domain, without the Mandate of the Crown.”
So claimed the outraged victim. But who was she, and why was she squatting in the ruins of Dilston Castle? For several years such questions vexed and perplexed the residents of south-west Northum-berland and beyond.
The story goes back to the Jacobite rebellion of 1715 and the execution of James Radcliffe, the third Earl of Derwentwater, for his part in the rising. His ancestral estates covered an extensive area in south-west Northumber-land and had formerly included land in the vicinity of Derwent Water in the Lake District. Attainder (loss of civil rights) and execution for treason would normally have led to the forfeiture of these estates to the Crown. James, however, had named his infant son John as his heir, and these rights of inheritance were upheld in 1719. The destiny of the Radcliffes depended on young John. If he were to die a minor and without issue, the estates would be forfeited, because his uncle Charles was under attainder for his part in the 'Fifteen' rebellion. The Hanoverian government was naturally interested in the fate of one of the greatest Jacobite families in northern England. Hence the news that John Radcliffe had died a minor on the last day of 1731 must have gladdened many a Hanoverian heart. After various complicated manoeuvres the Derwentwater estates were entrusted to Greenwich Hospital to sustain the costs of caring for aged and infirm seamen. Eventually, in 1865, the estates were transferred to their Lordships, the Commissioners of the Admiralty.
So the official story goes, but the lady in the ruins told a different tale. She claimed that John Radcliffe had not died in 1731: he had fabric-ated his own death to escape Hanoverian agents. Reaching maturity he had married, sired children and been blessed with grandchildren, one of whom survived. She, Lady Amelia Matilda Mary Tudor Radcliffe, had now come to Dilston to claim the Derwent-water inheritance.
The two main weapons in Amelia's armoury were her collection of (alleged) Radcliffe heirlooms and her flair for self-publicity. Descending on Dilston Castle, clad in an Austrian military uniform and girt with a sword, was a bold first step. Escorted by two sturdy retainers - Andrew Aiston, a keelman, and Michael Carl-ton, a porter at Blaydon railway station - she found a sheltered corner of the castle and placed a tarpaulin above it. By her own version of her family tree she was then aged 38, although the Newcastle Courant described her as “a fine-looking, elderly, lady”.
Charles Grey, the agent of the Admiralty Commissioners, was caught between the material concerns of his employers and the taste for victimhood of his colourful squatter. Ejected from the castle, Amelia pitched her tarpaulin on the roadside, over a ditch, pending the erection of a hut by her retainers. There she lamented the cruelty of “this dingy Grey man”.
Her plight attracted support in the local press. The Newcastle Courant observed: “Almost everyone you meet expresses the wish that she may 'get her rights'”. The Newcastle Chronicle was also sympathetic. Its proprietor, Joseph Cowen junior, nicknamed the Blaydon Brick because of the Cowen family's firebrick business, was given honourable mention in a dialect poem written in defence of Amelia.
Squatting in the ruins: a contemporary drawing of Amelia at Dilston Castle.
Less sentimental, the Hexham Highways Board declared Amelia's hut an obstruction, fined her 10 shillings and had it dismantled.
The scene now shifts, one year on, to the Anchor Inn at Haydon Bridge, where Charles Grey was using a room as an audit office for collecting the Martinmas rents. Amelia checked in as a guest and then marched into Grey's office, accompanied by her retainers, to tell him that he had no right to take rent from her tenants. An attempted ejection provoked Amelia to reach for her sword, but it broke into two before it left the scabbard.
Amelia was bundled downstairs into her own room. Grey, a prudent man, sent to Hexham for police reinforcements who arrived by the afternoon train, but their services were not required. Amelia left the inn of her own volition, to the “ringing cheers” of the populace.
A new tactic was now adopted in Amelia's campaign, aided and abetted by a particularly zealous supporter: Henry Brown, an auctioneer and bailiff. Tenant farmers on the Dilston estate received rent demands from their new “owner”, on pain of distraint of stock and equipment. The first target for direct action was Newlands South Farm near Whittonstall. Being then tenantless, and under the care of two of Grey's assistants, a raid here was less likely to alienate the public than if a local family had been in occupancy.
In January 1870, Henry Brown and friends seized some stock and drove the animals to Consett, one of Amelia's main centres of support. While Grey rounded up a posse of Northumberland and Durham constabulary, Amelia made a triumphal entry into Consett, riding in a coach, and then waving to the cheering crowd from an upstairs window of the Railway Inn.
Henry Brown sold the livestock and set off for Newlands to dispose of the produce and implements. In his wake came a large and excited concourse of Consett, and ahead of him went a detachment of Durham Constabulary to occupy the strategic bridgehead at Ebchester. About 75 members of the Northumberland Constabulary took up defensive positions in the farm's outbuildings. Despite the best efforts of Brown and friends, the thin blue line held firm at the hedge of Newlands Farm. Undaunted, Brown auctioned off the farm's implements from outside the property, and the crowd dispersed.
“The late 'Countess of Derwentwater' and her henchman”: an illustration from 'The Graphic'.
Two days after the Newlands affray, Henry Brown was waiting at Benfieldside railway station for the train to Hexham when two policemen appeared and charged him with making threatening remarks about Mr Grey. He had apparently declared: “If I have a hand on my body, I'll visit Mr Grey at Dilston. I'll get his death warrant signed on Wednesday”. The Newcastle Chronicle, in its report of this utterance, generously interpreted it as not meaning the slightest intention to injure Grey personally, but Hexham magistrates took a different view. Brown was bound over to keep the peace for six months. Persisting with his threatened distraints, he now incurred the full weight of the law. Henry Brown was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment with hard labour.
Amelia's backers were becoming restive. They had lent money to finance her campaign and now began to despair of securing a return on their investment. Worse, their Lordships of the Admiralty instituted bankruptcy proceedings to enforce payment from Amelia of £582 for trespass and unlawful distraint. The next step was the securing of a court order to discharge the debts by a sale of Amelia's effects.
On May 17, 1871, the so-called Derwentwater heirlooms were offered for sale at Mr Sutton's auction rooms. Detailed catalogues were issued, referring to pictures by Rubens, Titian, Murillo and Durer; there were 235 lots. But the auction was a tragic farce. At lot 17 the Countess appeared and ordered the sale to be stopped. The sale continued, regardless, with successful bids rarely exceeding £3. The total sum realised amounted to barely over £200. Amelia had claimed that her treasures were worth over £200,000.
The ravages of time could partly account for the pathetic prices paid for the “family heirlooms”. In the case of the “works of art”, however, it was obvious that no-one in the saleroom had any faith in their authenticity. From this moment any credibility the Countess had retained was irreparably damaged.
For some years more Amelia continued with her forlorn campaign. Her persistent refusal to co-operate with bankruptcy examinations led to her imprisonment in Newcastle gaol in 1873.
Wearied by the contest with the Countess, the Admiralty gradually disposed of the Dilston estates to local purchasers. Amelia's faint hopes of a resurgence of popular sympathy were thus dashed, for she could no longer appeal to local sentiments against absentee southern landlords.
Amelia eventually found accommodation in Cutler's Hall Road, Benfieldside where, in poor circumstances, she spent her final years. She died on February 26, 1880: two days after the anniversary of James Radcliffe's execution on Tower Hill.
To return to the question posed at the beginning, who was she? One thing is certain, she was not the rightful Countess of Derwentwater, for the title was not heritable by a woman. As for her claim to the Radcliffe estates, some documentary “evidence” was compiled in the Jottings that she published in 1869, under the guise of “Lovers of Justice”. The original documents, however, had allegedly been sent to Lord Palmerston, and he had failed to return them.
In one of the surviving copies of Amelia's Jottings some manuscript notes have been written by S. F. Longstaffe, who asserts that John Radcliffe did in fact die in 1731, and cites the evidence. Two items deserve particular mention: the archives of the Augustine Convent at Louvain, where the burial of John is recorded for January 1732, and the marriage settlement of John's sister in April 1732, describing her as the only surviving child of James, the late Earl.
Amelia, then, was neither a Countess nor the lineal descendant of John Radcliffe. She might perhaps have been a descendant of some other member of the family, perhaps by an unsanctified liaison. However, she could have acquired such genuine heirlooms as she possessed without being of Radcliffe blood. Similarly Amelia's undoubted knowledge of Radcliffe family history could have been obtained by diligent research.
She would appear to have been quite well educated, and some of the documents printed in the Jottings were in French and Latin. If, as seems likely, they were concocted by Amelia, this does at least reflect some credit on her learning, if not on her veracity. The facility with which Amelia trotted out the names of obscure German princelings suggests that she might have spent some time abroad, possibly as a governess.
An interesting clue to Amelia's real identity was given by Cadwallader J. Bates who, as a local historian and the purchaser of Langley, had a two-fold interest in solving the mystery. Writing about Amelia in 1895, he observed:
“It has been surmised that she was a lady's maid from Dover, of the name of Burke, who had lived with a family at Schwerin, and had had her imagination fired by reading a novel, written about 40 years previously, in which Viscount Radcliffe, the son of Lord Derwentwater, instead of dying in 1731, settled in Germany after a mock-funeral.”
I am content to leave the final verdict to Pip in Great Expectations: “All other swindlers upon Earth are nothing to the self-swindlers”. •
* DILSTON CASTLE opened to the public for the first time in July 2003. Open for 2004 until September 30: Tuesday to Friday 2-4pm (2-5pm in August), Saturday and Sunday 2-5pm; for further details ring (01661) 844157. Dilston Hall remains private. Once a maternity hospital, it is now a training college run by MENCAP.