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Published at 13:37,
Thursday, 25 September 2008
Hexham Courant
On the trail of Isaac andhis strange parting gift
By HELEN COMPSON
Published at 13:37, Thursday, 25 September 2008
HE WAS an eccentric man, to say the least, and some dismissed him as
little more than a simpleton.
Of humble stock and poorly educated, his life was dominated by toil and
tragedy.
But by the time he died at the age of 51, he had done more for the Allen
Valleys than anyone who had gone before him.
So much so, that 10 years after Isaac Holden’s death, a newspaper
article questioned whether anybody in his like would ever walk that way
again.
He was the driving force behind projects to establish a savings bank, a
library and a chapel, and the buildings that once housed them still
stand proud in Allendale.
When he died, in November 1857, around 600 people paid to erect a
lasting memorial, the largest monument in Allendale.
To this day, it bears testimony to the man who “gained the esteem and
respect of the public by his untiring diligence in originating works of
charity and public usefulness”.
This month he steps out of the shadows once again, with the publication
of a new booklet, Isaac’s Strange Gift, by Roger Morris, that tells the
story of his first fund-raising venture.
It does nothing if not confirm the quirkiness of his character.
A former lead miner turned itinerant tea seller, he was re-introduced to
a new generation several years ago when a walking route, the 36-mile
long Isaac’s Tea Trail, was established.
It leads walkers along the rural byways that Isaac once used, as he
walked house to lonely house, selling his wares.
Leaving his wife, Ann, to man their grocery shop in Allendale, he wore
out his shoe leather travelling between Sinderhope, Nenthead, Alston,
Kirkhaugh, Ninebanks and Whitfield.
While the trail shows off the land of his birth, and his death, to its
best, the new booklet sheds light on his character.
He was, we discover, the man who spent two years – following his
recovery from a nervous breakdown – coaxing his neighbours and customers
to contribute to his first grand fund-raising venture.
All well and good, you might think, except he wouldn’t tell anybody what
the money was to be used for. It was a secret, he said.
Demonstrating a commendable lack of social awareness, he decided the
best way of reaching his target was to sell as many photographic
portraits as he could – of himself.
Perhaps the lack of a looking glass in the standard household of the day
helped promote his self-confidence.
For he was no oil painting, according to one contemporary description.
“Isaac is about 50 years of age, below the middle height, and in his
plain dress and low crowned hat, with his tea budget on his back, his
figure – like his mind – is somewhat peculiar.”
However, such were his persuasive powers and the indulgence of the
people around him, that he managed to sell nigh on 800 of the pictures.
He also wrote a tract, which is reprinted in Isaac’s Strange Gift,
detailing his grand plan, and bolstered the coffers even further by
selling copies at sixpence a time.
The tract charts his growing impatience and excitement as he prepared to
place an announcement in several local newspapers, revealing his secret.
“During the last two years, I have had a great deal of affliction to
pass through,” he wrote in the tract.
“I have sometimes been afraid I was going to die before I got this job
completed, and the people would not know what I would do with the money
I have made by the sale of my portraits.”
His mission, it transpired, was to buy a horse-drawn hearse for the
parish of West Allen.
The tragic loss of two of his own children and then his brother in
adulthood had been made worse by the undignified manner in which they
were transported to their funerals.
Burial arrangements at the time reflected both the local geography and
the economic conditions that prevailed.
Roger Morris said: “In poorer communities, off the beaten track, respect
for the dead was not always possible.
“Where there were no roads for a hearse, the deceased was wrapped in a
shroud and carried in a wicker basket.
“Sometimes the simplest way of transporting the dead was between two
long poles on the shoulders of bearers.”
Isaac managed to raise the princely sum of £25.10s, which he paid to one
Mr Anderson, a coach-maker based in Newcastle.
With a view to achieving maximum impact, no doubt, Isaac chose to
present the horse-drawn hearse to the parish on July 18, 1856, on the
day Ninebanks Church was hosting what was the event of the year.
A tea party was being held to mark the opening of not one, but two local
schools, and a legion of parishioners were in attendance.
Folk living along the route he drove that afternoon also turned out to
greet him.
“People came out of their houses to get a look at the new hearse, and
their hearts seemed to glow with gratitude,” he wrote.
“When we came to Allen Town, there was a large host of people flocked
around us.”
When he arrived in Ninebanks itself, the ladies and gentlemen present
gathered around him “like bees” while local clergyman, the Rev. Jonathan
Scurr, thanked him for his endeavours.
Despite feeling intimidated by the polished vowels of some of those
present, Isaac rose to the occasion and addressed the multitude from
above – standing on the coachman’s seat on the hard-won hearse.
“There is no person knows the value of education, but those that wants
it,” he said.
“There, none have known the want more than I do. My parents, which is
now no more, and their dust is lying in yonder churchyard, was very poor
of this world’s goods, and not able to give me a good education.
“Now, there are schools to begin life with, and the hearse to carry us
out of the world.”
The booklet will receive its official launch during this autumn's
Haltwhistle Walking Festival. |
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