East Sussex (3): Battle and Hastings

A Famous Battle, the Place Named after it, and the Place it is Named After

East Sussex

We spent a few days in Heathfield with my sister Erica and her partner Peter. They kindly took us for a day out.

Anyone brought up on the sort of school history I enjoyed might imagine there is an error in this post’s title, surely it should read ‘Battle of Hastings’. Everyone knows about the Battle of Hastings and anyone who remembers at least one date from history remembers 1066. My recollection (which may not be entirely accurate) tells me I heard the story in Infants School, complete with the tactics of William the Conqueror, and Harold getting an arrow in the eye. I recall the engagement also being referred to as the Battle of Senlac Hill. Google maps tell me Senlac Hill is 6 miles from Hastings, on the edge of a town called, not entirely coincidently, Battle.

Battle and its Abbey

In 1070, Pope Alexander II instructed William to do penance for the many killings involved in his conquest of England. William vowed to build an abbey on the site of the battle with the high altar of its church on the spot where King Harold fell. He started building, but medieval construction was slow work and he died in 1087 with it incomplete. Work continued under his son William II and the abbey church was consecrated in 1094.

The County of East Sussex
In this post we travel southeast from my sister's home in Heathfield to Battle (12m) then to Hastings (6m)

The town that grew up around the abbey became known as Battle. In the 17th century it was renowned for producing the best gunpowder in England, or possibly Europe. It is now a collection of linear developments straggling along 5 roads that converge where the Hight Street leads up to the abbey. I have found no evidence of an industrial estate or a major employer, but Hastings is within easy commuting range. The population is around 7,000 and the town looks prosperous in a Sussex-y way, the High Street having more than its fair share of attractive old buildings, all in a good state of repair.

Battle High Street

Battle Abbey Gatehouse

The Abbey gatehouse is in the High Street.

Battle Abbey gatehouse

Once through the gatehouse the obvious thing to do is climb the stairs to its roof where the information board tells us ‘William the Conqueror granted the monastery all the land within a radius of 1.5 miles of the abbey’s High Altar. The abbot had power over both church and secular life within these estates and the abbey was one of the richest in medieval England. The town grew up to serve the monastery and many of its residents were employed there. By the 14th century, Battle was the largest town in East Sussex. The centre of the town retains its medieval road plan and many of the buildings date from the Middle Ages.’ (slightly abridged)

Battle from the gatehouse roof

Turning 180° gives a view over Battle Abbey School. An independent School founded in 1912 and now with 360 students, it moved into the former Abbot’s quarters in 1922.

Battle Abbey School

Senlac Hill

Descending, we joined a guided tour led by a pre-elderly (i.e. the same age as me) enthusiast. After an introduction he took us round the perimeter wall…

Around the Abbey wall, Battle Abbey

…to look down Senlac Hill. Like the ridges at Thiepval and Passchendaele centuries later, Senlac was a minor geographical wrinkle destined to play a major role.

Looking down Senlac Hill

The job of historians (whatever the popular press may think) really is to rewrite history as they add to our knowledge and understanding of the past. I was, thus, a little surprised to find the simplified outline I had been taught in the 1950s stands unchanged.

After defeating the King of Norway and his own brother Tostig at Stamford Bridge near York on the 26th of September 1066, Harold marched 300 miles to meet the invading Normans on the 14th of October. He placed his (presumably tired) army of infantrymen behind a shield wall on the top of Senlac Hill. William, whose army including cavalry and archers as well as infantry approached from the bottom of the hill.

The battle started at dawn, and for a long time the Norman attacks had little success. Needing a new tactic, William ordered his men to make a frontal assault, then, at a signal to break and run as though giving up the fight. Thinking themselves victorious the Saxons gave chase but at a pre-arranged point the Normans turned and fought. Harold had stood firm on the top of the hill, but with the shield wall gone the result was inevitable. By dusk it was all over.

The Dorter

Despite its symbolic importance and despite (or because of) its wealth, Battle Abbey did not survive the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Henry VIII gave the Abbey and its lands to Sir Anthony Browne who destroyed the church and the cloisters and repurposed the Abbot’s quarters as a country house.

Parts of the dorter remain standing.

End wall of the dorter, Battle abbey

Coming from the same route as dormitory, the dorter was where the monks slept and also socialised, in so far as monks were permitted to.

An enthusiast shares his knowledge, inside the dorter, Battle Abbey

Tree ring analysis in 2016 suggests the timber was sourced locally and there were two phases of building in the early and later 15th century.

The Abbey Church and the Death of Harold

The Abbey church is long gone, but the ground plan is known. In the background is the parish Church of St Mary, built by Abbot Ralph in 1115 for the people of the village that had grown outside the Abbey walls. He could not know that one day his church would contain the alabaster tomb of Sir Anthony Browne who ruined his Abbey.

The Lay-out of the Abbey Church, Battle

King William had promised the High Altar of the Abbey Church would be on the spot where Harold fell, and there is a (modern) inscribed stone as a memorial. It might be in the right place; the spot where Harold’s body was found was probably marked but whether that marking lasted long enough to guide the construction of the church is anybody’s guess.

King Harold's Memorial Stone, Battle Abbey

Harold rex interfectus est - King Harold is killed

Everybody knows Harold got an arrow in the eye. The story comes from the Bayeux Tapestry, actually an 11th century embroidery, telling of the battle and the events leading up to it from the Norman point of view, though it was actually made in England. 70 m long, by 0.5 m tall, it is beautifully displayed in Bayeux in Normandy and is well worth seeing (Lynne and I have been there twice but long before this blog). Scene 57 shows the death of Harold. A figure, surely, has an eyeful of arrow, but is he the central character in the panel? Did the embroiderers actually know how Harold died, or is this a general battle scene offering a couple of possibilities. Who knows?

Brunch

I am an old man but not a grumpy old man, usually….. leaving the abbey, we walked to a pub at the end of the High Street. Erica had made a booking – this has become a wise precaution during Covid, although on this occasion we almost had the place to ourselves. She had booked lunch but we were offered a ‘Brunch’ menu, it was what they did. Erica was not pleased, it was lunch time and tarted up breakfast food was not what she expected or wanted, but we already had our drinks and inertia persuaded us to each find something to order. I have no idea what the purpose of Brunch is, I like my breakfast when I rise and a light lunch around 1 o’clock. A snack at eleven, maybe, coffee and a biscuit, but how does Brunch fit into a sensible schedule? It is a nonsense. Grump over.

Hastings

Hastings

After lunch Peter drove us down to the coast at Hastings.

A Battle and a Castle

William the Conqueror landed at Pevensey, 11 miles to the west and encountered Harold Godwinson on Senlac Hill, 6 miles to the north. Strangely, the ensuing fracas is called the Battle of Hastings, though the town’s only connection with the events of October 1066 was that William may have camped here. Clearly their publicity department was on the ball that day – I am unsure if they have ever been so alert since.

The Normans did build a castle at Hastings a little later, probably on top of a Saxon earthwork. The remains stand on a hill to the east of the modern centre and west of the old town.

Hastings Castle is on the hill behind me

Hastings as a Fishing Port

Fish Market at Hastings Beach, JMW Turner

Hastings became one of the Cinque Ports, indeed the town’s arms are a variation of those of the Cinque Ports, the single complete lion allegedly indicating Hasting was the chief Cinque Port. I find this a little odd as Hastings is a port without a harbour. Off-loading cargo without a dockside might be difficult, but it raises fewer problems for a fishing port. JMW Turner came here in 1810 to paint the fish market on the beach. The adjacent reproduction is in the Public Domain, but if you want to see the original you must visit the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City. Hastings, like Oz, seems a long way from Kansas, and still has the UK's largest beach-based fishing fleet.

Between the old town and the sea are the Net Shops. In the days when ropes and nets were made of natural material, dry storage was essential to prevent rotting. Fishermen originally used an ad hoc collection of huts and upturned boats between the cliffs and the sea – a much smaller space in Victorian times than it is now. The unique Net Shops, tall, narrow wooden buildings, all painted black standing in neat rows on the beach were built in response to Hastings’ 1835 town plan to make best use of the available space. 39 remaining shops form a group of Grade II* listed buildings.

The Net Shops, Hastings

Hastings as a Seaside Resort

In 1769 Scottish physician William Buchan’s popular Domestic Medicine advocated the practice of sea bathing. In 1789 George III bumbled into the sea at Weymouth hoping to aid his recovery from a bout of porphyria and soon everyone who was anyone was doing it.

The whole Sussex coast (east and west) was perfectly positioned to take advantage of this new enthusiasm. The well-healed stayed at the large hotels and, when the railway arrived, Sussex was in daytrip territory for Londoners of all classes.

Hastings built itself a pier and the requisite beach huts which have become a more versatile, if stationary, version of the Victorian bathing machines.

Beach huts and pier, Hastings

It planted some inappropriate vegetation to pretend the climate is balmier than it really is…

Hastings in wannabe Torquay mode

…and in 1891 built a funicular railway up the hill to the castle.

Different resorts developed different personalities. Brighton went for the day trippers while Eastbourne concentrated on attracting wealth retirees. Over time the resorts have had to adapt; their shingle beaches and iffy weather cannot compete with Spain, Greece or Turkey for beach holidays, but they retain the advantage of proximity to their market.

Brighton now considers itself a bit racy and a little bohemian, and since 2010 has elected and re-elected Parliament’s only Green MP, with an ever-increasing majority. Eastbourne remains God’s Waiting Room and Hastings…. well, I am not sure it ever really decided what it wants to be. There is still some fishing, it has areas of desirable housing but also areas of deprivation. The town attracts its share of those who experience difficulty fitting into modern society, a group which tends to gravitate to seaside towns, but it has never seemed to specialise.

I may have been overly unkind to Hastings and there is more to explore, but time was limited and Lynne was already sickening for a bug that would lay her low for the next two weeks.

Back to the Normans

Distracted by what appeared to be the neck and head of an iron bird emerging from the beach we interrupted our stroll along the promenade....

Lynne on the Promenade, Hastings

... and plodded across the shingle to take a look. Close up it is obviously the prow of a ship of sorts. There is lettering on one side, but we could make no sense of it.

The Landing, Hastings Beach

Sussex World informs me that it is called The Landing and represents a Norman ship, like those that landed at Pevensey 950 years ago. It is the result of a collaboration between local sculptor Leigh Dyer and the British Artist Blacksmiths Association.

In July 2016, ten mobile forges were set up near the Net Shops and blacksmiths from all over the country gathered to demonstrate their craft and. among other things, forge the pieces of The Landing. Galvanised, assembled and embedded in a sturdy foundation, the sculpture was unveiled in September 2016, the mysterious lettering the initials of donors who made the project possible. Beneath is a time capsule to be opened in 2066

Alan Turing

Before we left, Lynne insisted on Peter following an uncharacteristically uncertain sat nav in search of Bastion Lodge, the house where Alan Turing spent his childhood. This took us into St Leonard’s, once a separate town (as it is shown on the map above), but long ago absorbed into Hastings. The lodge did not make a great photograph…

Bastion Lodge, St Leonard's

…but it fulfilled some need of Lynne’s.

Alan Turing's Plaque, St Leonard's

And Finally

And so, we returned to Heathfield for another of Erica’s fine dinners. Next day it was time to head home.

Finally, a big 'thank you' to Erica and Peter who put us up (and put up with us) fed us royally and drove us around to interesting places.

With Erica and Peter in Hastings

East Sussex

Part 1:Bodiam and Rye (2020)
Part 2:Bateman's, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington (2021)
Part 3: Battle and Hastings (2021)
Part 4: Rottingdean and The Devil's Dyke
Part 5: Lewes and Charleston (coming soon)

East Sussex (2): Bateman's, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington

An Exceedingly Good House, A Stroll on the Downs and a Chalk Figure of Questionable Age

East Sussex

On Wednesday we returned to Staffordshire from Liverpool. On Friday we headed south to visit my sister who lives in Heathfield, East Sussex, a 220-mile journey which should have been possible in under 4 hours but took well over five. The wonder of engineering that is the M25 demands you stop and marvel at it, then move on a little, stop and marvel again, and repeat, and repeat, and…...

The County of East Sussex
Bateman's is near Burwash, 7m NE of Heathfield, Firle Beacon & Wilmington are 13m from Heathfield in the direction of Seaford

Saturday was a major family party, my sister and partner, Peter, Lynne and I, the three members of the next generation with their spouses, and the six children they have produced between them, five of them under five. What could possibly go wrong? Actually, nothing did. The organisation was superb (thank you, Erica) and everybody behaved themselves as was appropriate to their age.

This blog is about travel, not family – they are too important for me to mess round with their privacy - so leaving Saturday with a faint if unmerited glow of patriarchal pride, let us move on to Sunday.

Bateman’s

Once all members of the younger generations had departed, Peter drove the old codgers the 6 miles to Bateman’s near the village of Burwash.

Bateman's in the Sussex Countryside

Now owned by the National Trust, Bateman’s is described as a Jacobean Wealden Mansion, Wealden being the easternmost District of East Sussex. Constructed of sandstone, with two storeys and gables above, the main eastern frontage was probably designed to be symmetrical, but whether the northern wing was built and then torn down, or never built at all is unknown.

Bateman's main (east) entrance

The house was built for John Langham, a lawyer in 1634 and fifty years later was the home of ironmaster John Britten. It later became a farmhouse and sometime in the late 18th century acquired the name ‘Bateman’s’ though nobody knows why. It was in poor condition by the end of the 19th century.

Rudyard Kipling at Bateman's

Rudyard Kipling in 1895
(Public Domain)

The house is old enough and interesting enough as it is, but it has a second claim to fame. Few become rich by writing, but occasionally a writer catches something in the public psyche and, as a by-product, the money comes pouring in. JK Rowling was such a writer at the end of the 20th century, her equivalent 100 years earlier was Rudyard Kipling.

Born in Bombay in 1865, he was educated in England and returned to India in 1883 where he worked as a journalist, wrote in his spare time and a started to create a reputation. He left India in 1889 and returned to England via Burma, Japan and North America. In London He married Caroline Balestier in 1892. They honeymooned in Japan, visited Caroline’s family in Vermont and subsequently lived there until 1896. Kipling wrote prolifically during this time including the two Jungle Books, and the Barrack Room Ballads.

Back in England the Kiplings searched for somewhere to settle down and in 1902 they bought Bateman’s. The house was in need of renovation - it had no running water upstairs and no electricity anywhere when they bought it - but they were to stay there for the rest of their lives. Rudyard Kipling died in 1936 and Caroline donated Bateman’s to the National Trust on her death three years later.

Inside Bateman's

Some rooms look more comfortable than others….

Inside Bateman's

… but all look dark as the renovations included re-staining the panelling back to its ‘original’ colour. The dark panelling of 17th and 18th century houses, at a time when the only artificial light came from candles, always seemed perverse. It is now believed that the original staining had probably been much lighter, but had darkened over time. Not knowing this, early restorers, including the Kiplings, faithfully returned the panelling to a colour that had never been intended.

Inside Bateman's

The Kiplings decorated the dining room walls with 18th century English ‘Cordoba’ leather hangings, depicting birds and foliage. Covered with silver leaf and varnished to glisten like gold, Kipling described it as ‘lovelier than our wildest dreams.’ After attempting, not particularly successfully, to recreate the original brightness and freshness in my imagination, I struggle with Kipling’s description, but tastes are forever changing.

Dining room, Bateman's

Bateman’s and The Kipling Family

The Kiplings had three children. The eldest, Josephine, was born in Vermont in 1892 and died of pneumonia in 1899.

A second daughter, Elsie, was born in February 1896, and a son, John, in August 1897. Both subsequently lived at Bateman’s with their parents, but only John’s room is currently on show.

John Kipling's room, Bateman's

John Kipling, 1915 (Public Domain)

John was 16 when the Great War broke out. He attempted to join the Royal Navy, but was rejected because of his poor eyesight. He then tried the army and was similarly rejected. Believing the war to be ‘a crusade for civilisation against barbarism,’ his father pulled some strings and John was commissioned Second-Lieutenant in the Irish Guards two days before his 17th birthday. He was killed at the Battle of Loos in September 1915. His body was not identified until 1992.

Rudyard Kipling remained a supporter of the war but became a trenchant critic of the way it was fought. In Epitaphs of the War he wrote:

"If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied."

Elsie married George Bambridge in 1924. The marriage made her mistress of Wimpole Hall, the largest house in Cambridgeshire, so she was hardly inconvenienced when her parents donated Bateman’s to the National Trust. She lived at Wimpole Hall until her death in 1976 and, having no children, bequeathed Wimpole Hall to the National Trust as well.

The Nobel Prize and the Garden

In 1907 Kipling was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. He was the first writer in English to receive this honour and remains the youngest ever recipient.

He had described Bateman’s as "a good and peaceable place" but when bought the house had substantial grounds but no garden. The Nobel Prize funded the construction of a garden.

The lily pond, Bateman's garden

The Mill

Beyond the garden is Park Mill, built in 1750 on the site of an earlier mill. The National Trust restored the building and milling machinery in the 1970s.

The restored milling machinery, Park Mill, Bateman's

But Kipling, being a practical chap, had not bothered with the mill, but installed a turbine so the mill stream could supply him with electricity.

Kipling's turbine, Park Mill, Bateman's

From the mill we walked back through the grounds to the car park.

Bateman's and surrounding grounds

Kipling in Burwash

Peter drove us up to nearby Burwash, where Mr Kipling can be found warming a bench beside the High Street. He looked away from Lynne when she set next to him, but it was not rudeness, he just has a stiff neck.

Lynne and Rudyard Kipling, Burwash

When our daughter saw the picture, she said ‘I hope you told him to stop writing that terrible doggerel.’ Our daughter’s MA in Literature Studies convincingly outranks my qualifications for discussing poetry, but nonetheless I would (nervously) claim Kipling was a first-rate versifier, not a writer of doggerel.

As the ‘Poet of Empire’ Kipling ought to be out of fashion, but he isn't. His novels are in print, his stories are desecrated by the Disney Corporation and If is regularly voted the ‘nation’s favourite poem.’ He may have been a colonialist, it was intellectually impossible for an Englishman (indeed any European) of his time not to have been, but his colonial attitudes were always tempered by humanity and we should not blame him for the date of his birth. Popularity can be fleeting, but any writer being read 85 years after their death, is more than just ‘popular’. All right, I will come clean, for all his faults, I am a closet fan – well I was, now everyone knows.

When we, quite literally, took the road to Mandalay I wrote a post on his poem Mandalay (Click here for that post). The poem is ill-served by the familiar song simplifying and distorting Kipling’s intentions, but I admit that there is much wrong with it. Kipling’s geography is woeful and several lines sound impressive but mean little, but other lines are simply a pleasure to hear, and some say so much more and say it so eloquently.

From Burwash we returned to Heathfield for lunch, one of Erica’s fresh and innovative salads which I liked very much.

Later Peter drove us south to Firle Beacon.

Firle Beacon

Wealden

My last visit to the South Downs, was in 1962 - I was eleven and at Scout Camp. The Downs, with their long and regular wave-like shape were, I decided, rollers from the English Channel that had continued onto land. I remember us scrambling up the sides and running along the top like we were on the roof of the world, though they typically rise to only about 200m. Were we young enough to then roll down to the bottom?

Firle Beacon, 15km north east of Eastbourne and within the relatively new South Downs National Park, was closer to Rudyard Kipling’s description of "Our blunt, bow-headed whale-backed Downs" than my 60-year-old memories, though not too far from either.

This time, though, we did not scramble up the side, we drove along a minor road to a car park near the top. Then, we did not run along the whale-back, we walked, at a good pace, for just over a mile to the highest point, the Beacon at 217m, and then back to the car. Nobody suggested rolling down the side.

Peter and Lynne follow Erica and me towards Firle Beacon

It was a lovely walk, gently rising on the outward leg, over short grass, springy underfoot and past several earthworks, assorted tumuli and barrows according to the OS map. The only disappointment was that the slightly misty conditions spoiled the views across the surrounding land and the sea.

A disappointing view from Firle Beacon towards Cuckmere Haven and the sea

Wilmington

Back at the car park we descended to the A27, drove 3 or 4 miles east and found our way to the village of Wilmington which faces, Windover Hill, the next but one along the line from Firle Beacon.

The Long Man of Wilmington

The chalk downs of southern England have always been irresistible to those wishing to create a landmark. The oldest, the Uffington White Horse in Oxfordshire (we visited in July 2014), is late bronze/early iron age, the most recent, the Fovent Regimental Badges, are 20th century. White horses were popular in the 18th and 19th century, but there are only two human figures (other than riders), the Cerne Abbas Giant in Dorset and the Long Man of Wilmington.

The Long Man of Wilmington

Both were believed to be ancient, but as there is no written evidence for either before the 17th century they have been reassessed. Most chalk figures consist of trenches cut in the turf and backfilled with chalk rubble. Optically stimulated luminescence testing (no, I don’t know what it is either, but I am sure it is very clever) has suggested the Cerne Abbas figure may well be over a thousand years old. The Long Man may have started as chalk rubble, but now consists of whitewashed breezeblocks (which need a bit of a clean-up) so dating is problematic. The 70m high figure, drawn to look in proportion when seen from below, may have iron age, or even Neolithic, origins but it its earliest mention was in 1710.

The best view, more distant but with more context, is from the path leading from the village.

The Long Man and the path from Wilmington village

Wilmington Priory, Parish Church and Yew Tree

Wilmington Priory was founded in the mid-11th century as an ‘alien cell’ (a small overseas off-shoot) of a Norman Benedictine Abbey. Enlarged in 1243 it became a grange for the local Benedictine held lands. Alien cells were suppressed in the 100 Years’ War and the Priory passed to Chichester Cathedral and then to the Sackville family after the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Today it is owned by the Landmark Trust and consists of a few broken down walls and a 14th-century house used as a holiday let.

Some remains of Wilmington Priory

The Church of St Mary and St Peter was built in the late 11th century as a combined Priory/Parish church. It has inevitably seen much restoration and some rebuilding in 800 years’ service to the community.

The massive yew tree outside the church is even older, dendrochronology suggesting it has been growing here for some 1,600 years old.

The 1,600 year old Wilmington yew tree

It is not looking too bad, considering.

That finished the days sight-seeing. The convivial evening involved another fine dinner, featuring duck legs - always a favourite.

East Sussex

Part 1:Bodiam and Rye (2020)
Part 2:Bateman's, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington (2021)
Part 3: Battle and Hastings (2021)
Part 4: Rottingdean and The Devil's Dyke
Part 5: Lewes and Charleston (coming soon)

Liverpool (3): The Mersey Ferry and the Anglican Cathedral

Celebrating the Work of Gerry Marsden and Giles Gilbert Scott

The Mersey Ferry

Liverpool

The River Mersey is formed by the confluence of the Rivers Goyt and Thame in Stockport. It is reputedly 70 miles long, but after 50 miles of serpentine twisting through urban landscapes and a straight stretch shared with the Manchester Ship Canal, it has reached Widnes, barely 25 miles from its source. Here the river becomes the Mersey Estuary.

The estuary narrows between Liverpool and Birkenhead, so this is the obvious place to build tunnels for road and rail and, before that, the obvious place for a ferry.

Lancashire, Greater Manchester and Merseyside

There has been a ferry here since at least 1150, when the monks of Birkenhead’s Benedictine Priory charged a small fee to row passengers cross the river.

With two road tunnels taking the bulk of the traffic, Mersey Ferries now operate only two vessels, the MV Royal Iris of the Mersey and MV Snowdrop. Both were built in the 1960s but were extensively refitted – and renamed - in the early 2000s.

We had tickets for a 50 minute ‘Mersey River Cruise’, and to be sure of being on the 10 o’clock sailing we joined the crowd at the Pier head early enough to see the 9.30 ferry arrive. A few people got off, most of them wheeling bicycles, a few got on and within minutes the Royal Iris set off for Birkenhead leaving the bulk of the crowd still at the Pier Head. We were all waiting for the ‘cruise’.

MV Royal Iris of the Mersey sets off for Birkenhead

The Mersey here is almost exactly a kilometre wide but Birkenhead is a little upstream, so the journey is a tad further. The Royal Iris of the Mersey was back in plenty of time to load up for the ‘cruise’. The Snowdrop seemed to be having a day off.

Cruising on the Mersey

Mersey Cruising with Gerry and the Pacemakers

The sun shone and the river was calm and almost blue as we set off, rather predictably, to the sound of Gerry and the Pacemakers 'Ferry Cross the Mersey’.

The Beatles bursting of the dam created a flood of what were then called ‘beat groups’, many of them from Liverpool (‘Merseybeat groups’). Among the leaders were Brian Epstein’s second signing as a manager, Gerry and the Pacemakers whose first three singles all went to No 1, a feat never achieved before not even by the Beatles.

As Gerry Marsden sang, we headed downstream near the Wirral bank and then returned to view the Liverpool waterfront, staring straight into the morning sun.

The Wirral side of the Mersey

Their first two singles (released in March and May 1963) were pieces of fluff, cheerful upbeat tunes but with a hook so barbed that once it had encountered a twelve-year-old ear it could embed itself for the next 59 years (and counting) – I write from experience.

Their third in October 1963 brought a change of direction; You’ll Never Walk Alone came from Rogers and Hammerstein’s 1945 musical Carousel. Few would claim that Gerry Marsden had a great voice and You’ll Never Walk Alone had already been recorded by several more accomplished singers, including Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley, but he brought his own personality and background to the song, and that made it about Liverpool. (YouTube Video) The city was then still walking through a storm as the docks that had once brought wealth endured their long, slow death. Liverpudlians pride themselves on standing by one another against those they believe have wronged them (and have ferociously long memories about who that is) and they enjoy a little mawkish sentimentality.

The Liverpool waterfront

Club Crest¹

Shankly Gates, Anfield²

The song was immediately adopted by Liverpool Football Club and it has been played on the public address and sung by the crowd at every home game since 1963. The song title sits atop the club crest and the Shankly Gates at Anfield stadium, but the title refers not just to the song, but to the Gerry and the Pacemakers recording of it.

Back almost at our starting point, we headed up stream and across river to stop briefly at the Birkenhead ferry terminal and then continued up the rather industrial Birkenhead side to the Tranmere Docks.

Birkenhead Ferry Pier
The obelisk on the waterfront is a ventilation tower for the Mersey Tunnel directly below

You’ll Never Walk Alone was their third and final UK No. 1, though there would be 3 more UK top ten hits in 1964 (and 3 in the USA). The last of these was the title song from the film Ferry Cross the Mersey intended to rival The Beatle’s Hard Day’s Night. It did well enough for a film of its type.

Scenic Tranmere docks, Mersey Cruise

The song (Top of Tops Video on You Tube) has a simple tune with lyrics that might suggest a downbeat lack of ambition:

Life goes on day after day
Hearts torn in every way

So ferry, cross the Mersey
'Cause this land's the place I love
And here I'll stay

The song was the group's last significant UK or US hit. The Beatles were able to develop their music which became more sophisticated as their fan base grew up. Gerry and the Pacemakers did not, or could not. It took a couple of years for the charm to wear off, then they were gone. Gerry Marsden, though, carried on, appearing on children’s television and in a West End Musical and he kept touring, as a solo artist or as ‘Gerry and the Pacemakers’ with various line-ups in ’oldies tours’.

Turning round, Mersey Cruise

He had a heart bypass operation in 2003 and another heart op in 2016. He retired in November 2018, and died of heart problems in January 2021 at Arrowe Park Hospital on Merseyside, aged 78. He died just 8 miles as the crow flies from where he was born.  When he sang ‘and here I’ll stay’ he meant it, though he had moved ‘Cross the Mersey’ from the deprived area of his childhood to more affluent surroundings. (We will overlook his other home in Spain - the weather on Merseyside is not always as fine as they day of our cruise)

Coming to the end of the cruise

After a final glide past Liverpool’s two cathedrals, we were back at the Pier Head.

Liverpool's Cathedrals, the circular Catholic Cathedral and the enormous Anglican Cathedral

The Pier Head to the Anglican Cathedral

According to Google, the Pier Head to the Anglican cathedral is a 25-minute walk mostly along Duke Street. Unfortunately, we chose to walk via Park Lane and St James Street which looked a reasonable alternative on the paper map we had picked up in the hotel.

The gently rising Park Lane took us past the distinctive Gustav Adolf Scandinavian Church. An example of late Gothic Revival, it was built 1883/4 to serve Scandinavian seaman and migrants in transit to North America. The church is still active and part of a broader Nordic Cultural Centre. If you wish to attend a Lutheran church service, eat a sandwich without its top or indulge in conversational Swedish, Norwegian or even Finnish this is the place to go.

Gustav Adolf Scandinavian Church, Liverpool

At the top of St James is the Wedding House, a ‘one-stop shop for those planning their big day’. An earlier piece of Gothic Revival, it was built for the North and South Wales Bank which opened here, and not in Wales, in 1836. Despite its location it successfully developed a network of branches on both sides of the border before becoming part of the Midland Bank (now part of HSBC) in 1908.

The Wedding House, Liverpool

Looking towards the Cathedral from outside the Wedding House we realised we had picked the wrong route. The road to the left slants the wrong way, but the only access to the Cathedral is at its far end so that was where we had to go. This added the best part of 500m to our walk, had it been raining we would have been annoyed, but as we were strolling in pleasant sunshine it mattered little.

Liverpool Cathedral

As a bonus our route now took us past the entrance to Liverpool’s Chinatown. Liverpool may not have the largest Chinatown, but it does claim the oldest Chinese community in Europe and the tallest Paifang. Chinese seamen started to settle around the docks in the 1860s and estimates suggest there are over 7,000 Liverpudlians of full Chinese descent making them the city's largest ethnic group of non-European origin. There are thought to be another 25-35,000 people of mixed Chinese descent.

Paifang across Nelson Street, Liverpool

Liverpool Anglican Cathedral

The industrial revolution (1760-1840) changed England’s demographic landscape. Small market towns, mainly in the north and midlands, sucked in the population from the surrounding countryside as England turned from an agrarian to an urban society in a couple of generations.  The authorities reacted slowly, few of the new metropolises had parliamentary representation until the middle of the 19th century and none had city status.

But change was inevitable. In 1880, Liverpool, with the population already over 600,000 was made a city, followed by Birmingham, Bradford, Leeds and others.

Bishop Ryle³
Splendid Beard

The creation of new cities broke the historic convention that cities were just towns with bishops and cathedrals, but these changes also meant the Church of England needed more dioceses. In the same year as Liverpool became a city, John Ryle became the first Anglican bishop of Liverpool, but he was not Liverpool’s first bishop. After almost 300 years absence, the Roman Catholic church had re-established its dioceses in 1850, and with its large Irish Catholic population, Liverpool was among the first catholic dioceses. In 1880 Liverpool had two bishops and no cathedrals.

The earliest plans of the Catholics ran into financial difficulties, the C of E produced an unworkable plan, then wondered if they needed a cathedral at all. The 20th century dawned and nothing had changed except the Catholic bishop was now a cathederalless archbishop.

In 1901 the C of E found a site and organised a competition to design their new cathedral, It was won by the 26-year-old Giles Gilbert Scott, the 3rd generation of the Gilbert Scott architectural dynasty and the man who later designed the red phone box (I refuse to call them, or anything else, ‘iconic’.) The design was grandiose, work started in 1906 and progressed slowly, halting during World War I.

Inside Liverpool Cathedral

Between the wars the Catholics set to work on an ambitious design by Sir Edwin Lutyens and the C of E continued doggedly with Gilbert Scott’s design. Ironically Lutyens was C of E while Gilbert Scott was Catholic. Work halted for World War II.

After the war, the Catholics dropped the Lutyens design and went back to the drawing board while the C of E laboured on, though the design was modified as money became tight.

Statues of Saints, Liverpool Cathedral

The Catholics adopted another plan in 1962 and their cathedral was completed by 1967 (we visited on Monday). Giles Gilbert Scott died in 1960 and his work was taken over by his son Richard, the cathedral eventually being dedicated in 1978. The Catholic Cathedral took 5 years, the C of E 72 years (Barcelona’s Sagrada Familia has been under construction for 138 years so far, so it was not that slow).

And was it worth the wait? Well, it is big - much bigger than the Catholic cathedral as the photo from the cruise showed. It is the largest religious building in England and the largest Anglican/Episcopalian Cathedral in the world (disputed by the unfinished Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City). At 180m long it is the longest cathedral in the world and the 5th biggest in terms of volume.

Stained glass window
I felt you and I knew you loved me by Tracey Emin

And is size important? Not really. The Catholic cathedral is innovative in design, plays with light in original ways, gives everybody a view of proceedings and is human in scale. The C of E Cathedral is just big, too big to be appreciated (or photographed) from the outside and a vast cavern inside. It is (I’m sorry) a bit ugly and the central tower is as charmless as the Mersey tunnel ventilation tower. But it does have some interesting corners, the people were nice, and the café provided a very acceptable coffee and a cake for our lunch.

Interesting corner, Liverpool Cathedral

And that lunch brought our visit to Liverpool to an end, and we returned home.

¹Copyright Liverpool Football Club
² Borrowed from Wikipedia, Photo by Andy Nugent, reproduced under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5
³Borrowed from Wikipedia, scanned from Illustrated London News (June 1900) by Tim Riley

See also

Liverpool (1): Castle Street and the Catholic Cathedral
Liverpool (2): The Waterfront, The Cavern Club and St George's Quarter
Liverpool (3): Ferry Cross the Mersey and the Anglican Cathedral