“Eight years ago, there was a story about how the title Lord of the Manor of Streatlam was up for auction,” says Chris Foote-Wood, a man of many titles from deputy mayor of Barnard Castle, brother of the comedienne Victoria to being the candidate in a staggering 44 elections, “and I got it".
“I bought it to keep it local, that was my main objective.”
Streatlam is an area of parkland between Barney and Staindrop, where once stood a castle that for 600 years was the home of the Bowes family.
“I knew a few things about them, how John and Josephine founded the museum, but as I looked into it, all these characters and personalities and events from more than six centuries sprang back to life!” says the Lord of the Manor of Streatlam.
So Chris has captured all Streatlam’s great stories in his new book, Streatlam Castle and the Bowes-Lyon family, which he officially publishes on Friday, October 4, at the Witham Hall in Barnard Castle – all are welcome.
And there is no greater story than that of Mary Eleanor Bowes, which Chris tells with detail – and swashbuckling panache.
Mary Eleanor was 11 when her father died in 1760, leaving her the sole heiress of the Streatlam and Gibside estates valued at £600,000 (£102m in today’s values, according to the Bank of England Inflation Calculator).
Even at that tender age, and even though much of her fortune was tied up in trusts, Mary Eleanor attracted a swarm of suitors, despite her father’s will stipulated that any husband would have to change his surname to Bowes if he wished to gain access to her annual income of £20,000.
One MP even plotted to kidnap her and force her to marry him.
Eventually, John Lyon, the 9th Earl of Strathmore, of Glamis Castle, emerged as Mary Eleanor’s favourite, and they married in 1767 when she was 18 and he was 30. Thus the Bowes-Lyon surname was created.
It was not a happy marriage, although they had five children, and as the 9th Earl lay dying of tuberculosis on a ship on the way to Portugal to seek a better climate, he wrote back to Mary Eleanor regretting that their union had not been a success.
He died on March 7, 1776 – when Mary Eleanor was living with her lover, George Gray, in London.
Indeed, letters started appearing in the Morning Post newspaper accusing Mary Eleanor of conducting a scandalous and immoral life – even having sex with her footman – before she’d given her husband a decent funeral.
Unannounced, an Irish soldier, Andrew Robinson Stoney, appeared at Mary Eleanor’s home, in his smart red army tunic and expertly brandishing his sword, and told her that he was going to defend her honour by duelling with the newspaper editor, the Reverend Henry Bate, to the death.
And he did. On January 14, 1777, in the cellar of the Adelphi Tavern, he took on the editor, first with pistols, then with swords, although the only witness was Dr Jesse Foot.
The crowd outside heard the gunshots, heard the clash of swords and then saw Stoney being carried, grievously wounded, out on a stretcher. Dr Foot announced that he was bound to die.
As soon as she heard, Mary Eleanor rushed round to Stoney’s apartments where, as he knocked on death’s door, he confessed he loved her and begged her to marry him – and make it quick.
She agreed, and on January 17, Stoney was carried into St James’s Church in Piccadilly on his deathbed, and they were married. The surname Stoney-Bowes was therefore created.
It did Stoney a power of good. He miraculously recovered (it seems that the doctor and the editor were both in on the stunt), and was fit enough to travel that day to north Durham, to cast his eye over his Gibside estate – he probably knew a fair amount about it as his first wife, Hannah Newton, was a coal heiress of Burnopfield who, it was rumoured, had died at Stoney’s hands leaving him to inherit her £30,000 fortune.
That evening at Gibside, Stoney lost his temper over a lack of champagne.
Within a week, he’d become furious that all Mary Eleanor’s fortune was tied up in trust – so furious that he began beating her, even though she was now pregnant.
Suspiciously, seven months after the wedding, Mary Eleanor gave birth to a daughter, Mary, whose father was probably Gray.
Stoney seemed not to care, as he was wading through Mary Eleanor’s money, lavishing it on voters who returned him as MP for Newcastle, and selling her possessions to raise more to shower gifts on his many mistresses.
He coercively controlled Mary Eleanor, reading every letter and forcing her to seek his permission before using her own carriage.
Eventually, she snapped, and, in 1785, she filed for divorce – an exceptionally brave step for a Georgian woman to take.
Stoney’s thugs kidnapped her and dragged her to Streatlam Castle, where he held her hostage, with a pistol to her head, demanding she drop the divorce. With local pitmen descending on the castle to mount a rescue bid, and a rumour that Gray was formed an armed posse in London, Stoney tied her onto a horse and for two weeks rode her around the Durham moors, twice into Darlington and over to Carlisle until, as they charged through Neasham, ploughman Gabriel Thompson grabbed hold of the horse’s bridle and pulled it to a halt.
Stoney drew two pistols and threatened to shoot anyone who came near, but the Neasham parish constable, Christopher Smith, bravely threw himself at Stoney and knocked him off the horse.
Mary Eleanor was free! Eventually, she was divorced.
In June 1787, Stoney was found guilty of charges ranging from adultery to cruelty to conspiracy to imprison, and he was sentenced to three years in jail.
Now with no money to pay his creditors, he was committed to the Marshalsea debtors’ prison, where he spent the last 22 years of his life.
However, despite being in prison, Stoney still managed to live it up, somehow living in the governor’s house with his mistress, Polly Sutton, who bore him five children. In fact, he had a harem of women and they indulged in long parties and gambling sessions.
“In June 1810, Stoney died and it was thanks to him that the phrase ‘stoney broke’ was coined,” says Chris.
Now, it has to be said that reputable sources, such as the Oxford English Dictionary, have no truck with this derivation, saying “stony broke” just means “hard up, ruined”, and another dictionary gives an alternative derivation, saying: “This expression is said to refer to the custom of breaking up a craftsman’s stone bench when he failed to pay his debts.”
But there definitely as a folk derivation of the phrase, which only entered the English language in the 1880s.
For example, the Irish Times quotes the late Diarmaid Ó Muirithe, a specialist in Irish words from University College, Dubin, as saying: “The phrase “stoney broke" we probably owe to an impoverished Irish adventurer, Andrew Robinson Stoney, who married an heiress for her money, but it was all in a trust fund, and he died as he lived, stoney broke.”
- Streatlam Castle and the Bowes-Lyons: 600 years of the Bowes family, by Chris Foote-Wood, the Lord of the Manor of Streatlam, is launched on Friday at the Witham Hall in Horsemarket, Barnard Castle, from 4pm to 8pm. All are welcome to drop in for a free drink. It is for sale for £12 at the Witham and the Teesdale Mercury.
THE UK’s first children’s charity was the Foundling Hospital in London, which was commenced in 1739. Mothers, unable to cope, left their babies in the care of the hospital along with a token, such as a scrap of fabric or a coin, so that the child could be identified should the mother later be in a position to reclaim the child.
On November 7 at the Bowes Museum, Emma Ridgway, director of the Foundling Museum, will tell the story of the hospital – actually, it was more of a children’s home than a place for the sick – and look at her museum’s most popular exhibit: the identifying tokens.
Each one is imbued with emotion as the poor mother gives up her child in the belief that this is the best course for both of them. This token is a halved medallion featuring Sir Isaac Newton. One half stayed with the baby’s admittance records while the mother kept the other half in the hope that one day, the two would be reunited.
The talk is a fundraising event, starting at 10.45am, organised by the Friends of The Bowes Museum and is open to all. Tickets cost £50 and include a two-course lunch with glass of wine or soft drink, plus tea or coffee.
To book a ticket, call the museum on 01833-690606 or go to the website thebowesmuseum.org.uk
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