Nick Johnson, project lead of the Northumbria Veteran Tree Project, explores the legacy of George Clayton Atkinson’s pioneering 1876 catalogue of North East trees
We take trees for granted as we walk or go about our daily business. If you asked a fellow traveller what they had just seen as they walked along a tree-lined street, there is every chance you would draw a blank. They would probably have little recollection of the journey, let alone those trees.
I do believe, however, that if the same people visited the same street a few days later and the trees were no longer there, they would be shocked and upset at their disappearance. We miss them when they are not there!
Our city ancestors in the mid-nineteenth century were far less fortunate than us. No tree-lined streets or grass verges for them. The need to feed their families was paramount and finding work in coal mining or other associated industries a blessing. The city and the region thrived but the prosperity that arose from heavy industry came at a cost, a fact fortunately not entirely lost on one group of influential people.
This group included, amongst others, the Victorian scholar Rev J C Bruce; the lawyer, antiquarian and town clerk of the city of Newcastle John Clayton; the naturalist and ornithologist John Hancock; and Sir W C Trevelyan of Wallington Hall, a naturalist and geologist. They were all associated with, or members of, the Natural History Society of Northumberland, Durham, and Newcastle upon Tyne – the NHSN, as it is now.
It was obvious to them that the loss of the region’s trees would be catastrophic. So, to counter the effects of industrialisation, the group commissioned work to be carried out to determine the extent of the problem, and to record significant trees in the region with the view of protecting their future. A certain Mr George Clayton Atkinson was to carry out this work, and his work would be published by the Tyneside Naturalists Field Club.
Notes from the meetings of the Society, dated 1873, read:
The rapid development of deleterious mining and manufacturing operations in Northumberland and Durham is making havoc of their vegetation, and it is therefore most desirable that trees of interest, either for their size, botanical peculiarities, or historic associations, should without delay be noted and described for the benefit of those who follow us.
To fund this venture the club chairman stated:
The club treasury will not bear any additional burden, and members are asked for contributions of five shillings each towards this special object, for which they will receive in return copies of all photographs and letter press that are issued.
With support secured and the chairman’s words ringing in his ears, Mr Atkinson set away tasked with cataloguing the region’s trees. They were recorded in two instalments between 1873 and 1876, with fifty-four locations in the first edition, and individual submissions on a hundred and ninety trees, along with plenty of comments and anecdotes!
Felling Hall, Gateshead.
“Mulberry, in the middle of a field on the E of the old residence of the Brandlings, now a public house called “The Mulberry” Girth at the height of 4 feet 5 feet: Spread of branches, trifling: Height, 12 feet.
Suffocated by smoke and chemicals; I asked the maid at the inn if she could tell me its age. She said “No but they once hanged a monk upon it” (November 18, 1872, G.C. Atkinson)
A snapshot in time, with thankfully not every tree recorded having such a gruesome story to tell!
This Mulberry tree was obviously a relic, having been planted in the grounds of Fenham Hall. This reflects a theme throughout the publication, with most of the trees having been recorded either on large estates or in the gardens of large private houses. One of the exceptions to this being a rather distinctive Holly tree on common land at Windmill Hill in Gateshead which Atkinson included an image of in his text.
The predominance of trees on private land in the now famous ‘Atkinson List’ does not reflect badly on the process, but simply illuminates the fact that much of the population at the time had limited access to trees and nature. It would be another thirty years before this would begin to change – but that, I feel, is a story for another day.
