PAST AND PRESENT - SOME FAMILY LINKS - VI

Several of the children of Edward Edmondson, of Trumley, Middleton (brother of Thomas, of Grassyard Hall) have been dealt with in the preceding chapters. Reference may now be made to Edward's daughter Margaret, who was baptised at Overton Church, on July 10, 1775. This Margaret Edmondson married John Paget, woollen or worsted merchant, of Lancaster and Forton, who, at the beginning of the last century, had become a partner in the firm of Thomas Edmondson and Co. worsted spinners, Mytholmroyd, near Halifax. A list of "Seats of the nobility and gentry in the county Palatine of Lancaster," published in 1825, shows that Thomas Paget then resided at Forton lodge - built nearly a hunderd years ago by William Brade, a Liverpool merchant, of the same stock, I believe, as the Forton yeoman, William Brade, whose sister Jennet married Timothy Welch, of Ellel (1714-1791). Thomas Paget died at Forton Lodge on December 18, 1843. He was born on November 12, 1764, so that he attained a ripe age. He was the son of Peter Paget by his wife Elizabeth Hankinson, who were married in 1761, the former, probably, belonging to a Scotforth and the latter to a Fylde family. Mrs. Peter Paget had a brother, Thomas Hankinson, who married Peter Paget's sister Mary, and of tis marriage there was issue the Rev. Robert Hankinson, rector of Walpole St. Andrew, near Wisbech, who died in 1862 at the great age of 92. Another brother of Mrs. Paget, John Hankinson, practised as an attorney at Lancaster, and died here about the beginning of last century. There was also a kinswoman, Ann Hankinson, who carried on business in this town as a milliner, and died in 1779. In February, 1776, John Hankinson was nominated by Lord Ducie as Deputy-Clerk of the Crown in the County Palatine.


Thomas Paget left a widow, one son, and three daughters. The son, also named Thomas, married Anne, the youngest daughter of Henry Smith, gentleman, Hole of Ellel, by his wife Ellen, daughter of George Yeats, to which families further reference will be made in the next article. Thomas Paget the younger went to reside at Ratcliffe Cottage, Forton, he being connected with John Welch, then of Cabus and afterwards of Burrow House, Scotforth, in carrying on an extensive business at Ratcliffe Wharf. The partners were cousins, their fathers having married two sisters. The business at Ratcliffe Wharf was previously carried on by John Welch's father, Thomas. Eight months after Thomas Paget's death, one of his sons met with his death under very sad circumstances. This son was likewise named Thomas, and it was intended that he should adopt the legal profession. He was articled to a Lancaster solicitor, John Herdman Sherson, and at the time of his death was only 17 years old, being then described as of Castle Hill. On Wednesday afternoon, July 20th, 1853, young Paget was drowned while bathing in the Lune between the Pothouses and the New Quay. A gallant attempt was made to save him by another bather, Robert Hall - son of the then Mayor, John Hall, solicitor, Saleyard-street - who still survives, residing at Slyne Lodge, Slyne. Thomas Paget (who died on November 21st, 1852) had another son, William Smith Paget, born in 1848. This son is Dr. Paget-Tomlinson, of The Biggins, near Kirkby Lonsdale. Thirty years ago he married the second daughter of John L. Price, of Standish, near Wigan. In 1889 he succeeded his relative, Miss E. Tomlinson, in The Biggins estate, and took the name by which he is now known. Dr. Paget-Tomlinson is J.P. and D.L. for Westmorland, and was High Sheriff of that county in 1897.


A sister of Mrs. Thomas (Margaret) Paget, Hannah Edmondson, who was baptised at Overton Church on March 26th 1780, married a Mr. Caton, who lived sometime at Bolton-le-Sands, and also at Fenton-Cawthorne House, Market-street, Lancaster. A story is told that while residing at the latter place he was so much displeased about a certain marriage engagement that he had the blinds of all his windows put down during the time the bridal party were going to and from the Old Church. Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. Caton, then described as of Lancaster, was married at Cockerham Church in 1830 to Charles Bower, gentleman, of Bolton-le-Sands. They were living at Sunderand in the middle of last century. At Bolton-le-Sands they ranked among the landowners. Charles Bower built the house across the railway, opposite the station. Land belonging to the family was ultimately purchased on behalf of the Roman Catholics, for the erection of a new church, &c. A son (Thomas) of Mr. Caton, who removed to London, was a legatee of his cousins, William Bradshaw, Queen-square, Lancaster (Mayor in 1870), and Miss Betsy Jane Bradshaw. There was some relationship between the Bradshaws and the Welch and Paget families. William Bradshaw's father - Bartholomew Bradshaw, woollen draper or mercer, Market-street, Lancaster, who died at Burrow House, Scotforth (afterwards the residence of John Welch from Cabus), on January 6th, 1857 - was an executor under the will of Thomas Paget who died at Forton Lodge in 1843. And there was also a relationship with the Bradshaws of Burton. Bartholomew Bradshaw the elder was brother-in-law of John Cumpsty, mercer, of Lancaster and Lune Villa, Skerton, who died in 1815. 

Thomas Carlyle and Jane Welsh (part 3)

The hardship of their case consisted in nothing but this: each was now possessed of a formed and fixed character, and that now had to adapt itself to a new set of conditions, requiring compromise and “give and take.” What wonder the experience was neither pleasant nor merry! Is the common lot so different?...

The wife who had so hesitatingly flung in her lot with his proved the truest and staunchest of allies. She too had all to lose. Carlyle was her all in all. His defeat meant proof of her own folly in uniting her fortunes to his, and that was too bitter a pill to swallow. One must confess it was well the case was so, for the coming conflict was to be very bitter and very prolonged.

Ten years after marriage Carlyle had his foot firmly on the ladder, but not sooner, although he had then already written and published the very cream of his intellect, works of genius as original, as brilliant, massy essays of solid gold, and had already expounded almost to its last detail his own peculiar message and creed.

Twenty years later he stands at the head of British literature, unequalled, almost unchallenged, admitted into any and every society, the valued friend and guest of peers, the acknowledged master of many of the finest spirits of the time. “My ambition has been gratified,” wrote Mrs Carlyle to John Forster, “beyond my wildest dreams, and I am miserable." Miss Welsh little knew the greatness of the man she married when she married him. That she did love him with more than usual intensity is made evident by a hundred letters. Carlyle loved her very tenderly and very deeply. Her death broke his power at one blow, and the man lingered pitifully, a lonely, sorrowful old man, whose triumph, like Johnson's had come too late. What was amiss? “No talent for the market, thought I – none; the reverse rather.” So Carlyle sorrowfully noted in his journal at this time. The entry may explain why he has always been the god of the literary young man's idolatry. Carlyle tried so hard to swim with the times consistently with his conscience, and failed so lamentably. He would have liked so well to have pleased editors, but could not. So he defied them. With a wife to support he was prepared to stretch conscience as far as ever it could honourably be stretched. There can be little doubt of that. We do not need to accept Carlyle as a fanatic on the matter of the rights of contributors. He was ready enough to please, but he could, and would, write to no man's order. Too great and original himself to be an editor, far less could he trim his sails to suit editors, study the journalistic signs of the times, and satisfy “public requirements.” He tried and failed, and young men are consoled when they learn that Carlyle suffered as they suffer, was told “his style was at fault,” and his matter literally of no importance and unadulterated rubbish! Carlyle's style was not at fault. It was a very good style, but not nearly so brilliant and picturesque as it became later. Still less was there any lack of quality in the matter.

Carlyle failed because he could not persuade editors to accept the articles he wrote. The editors were good judges, so good that they probably interpreted the time correctly in fearing it could not appreciate Carlyle. Carlyle was original, but he was consumately great; so great that these editors could not recognise he was a greater man than themselves.