Lupton Wrathall Poem

IMPROMPTU LINES On the death of LUPTON WRATHALL

To give us the complete picture of the circumstances surrounding the poem about Lupton WRATHALL, Derek Wrathall quoted from the Wharfedale Family History Group Newsletter which led him to the poem.

"An Unusual Christian Name

I enclose a copy of a poem written on the death, in 1870, of my 3xgt.grandfather, Lupton WRATHALL. My late mother told me that it was written by a BLAND, see initials J. A. B.. Perhaps this was John Atkinson BLAND?

Lupton Wrathall lived and farmed at Fold Bottom at Appletreewick, as did his descendants until the 1960s. My grandfather, Fred HAWLEY, who married a great-granddaughter of this Lupton, was born at Grimwith Reservoir. He remembered, as a child, seeing the son of Lupton Wrathall (also called Lupton) on horseback and wearing plaid whilst shepherding on Aket, the moor near the reservoir.

Lupton continued to be a popular Christian name in this branch of the Wrathall family. It is mentioned in Thomas Hebden Metcalfe's book, Memories of Upper Wharfdale. Henry Lupton ROBINSON of Cock Inn Farm, Buckden, was a great grandson of the Lupton in the poem. As yet I have been unable to trace the origin of the use of Lupton as a Christian name in this branch of the Wrathalls, as it does not appear to be connected to Lupton Wrathall of Grassington, b. 1716, whose mother's maiden name was Lupton, nor his son Lupton b. 1757 at Conistone.

I would be pleased to hear from anyone who can offer more information about Lupton Wrathall".

The lady who sent in the poem (Myra Simmonds) is a descendant of John Wrathall and Anne Pickersgill. Derek has exchanged letters with Myra, whose research on the Wrathall family includes information on the family of Lupton Wrathall (in the Descendants of Anthonie Wrathall ).

IMPROMPTU LINES
On the death of LUPTON WRATHALL, of Appletreewick,
on April 4th, 1870, in his 82nd year.

I stood on the Bridge* in the twilight hour,
A light flicker’dim in St. Wilfred’s Tower**
The bell pealed forth “A spirit has fled” -
Has left its clay home, with the countless dead!”
I felt the force of that slow pealing bell
As by the river and brook, and woodland dell
Its sounds swept on - the death-dirge sped -
I had heard the same peal for the loved ones dead.

I passed from the Bridge. In the village grey,
‘Mongst sorrowing voices, I heard one say -
“Tis old LUP who is dead!” The time-worn man
Had lived his four score - had Finished the span
Of this mortal life. Could we past years look,
As a tale that is told in a chapter’d book,
Some leaves would tell of rough boyhood and youth,
Of the maxims he held - of his “sayings” uncouth.
How to manhood arrived he breasted the strife
Of hardship and toil in the “Battle of Life”
To win his bread fairly was ever his pride,
The motto of “Fairplay” was ever his guide.
No hypocrite he! “Lup” could not dissemble,
At his honest word the coward would tremble.
To do to his neighbours, as he would that they
Should do unto him, was always his way.

Some pages would tell of the pleasure he took
On moorland, or pasture, or meadow to look
On his flocks and his herds, as they grazed on the plain,
Of the “trade” he had had; of this loss or that gain.
Some chapters would say how through wind, rain or sleet,
Through mist, frost, or snow, each market he’d meet;
How to neighbouring fairs he would jog o’er the hill
To win a few pounds as “jobbers” do still.
Nigh the old kirk of Skipton he oft took his stand,
In market or fair he held great command;
And fair in his dealings, whom he dealt with well knew,
He ne’er would extort, nor “put on the screw”.

His story was brimful of that which we’re heir to,
Of trouble, bereavements, of pain and of care too,
Failings he might have, - who is there has not?
His virtues will live, when these are forgot.
As neighbour and friend - let a friend say it plain,
“Twill be a long time before we shall see his like again.
In peace with his fellows, the old kirk-way he trod,
His last days, we trust, pass’d in peace with his God.

Wharfdale J.A.B.

* Burnsall Bridge
** The Tower of Burnsall Church

In February 2007, Jean Robinson, who can be reached at Jean10alice(at)aol(dot)com, mentioned the folllowing about Henry Lupton Robinson (see above):

I live in Skipton, North Yorkshire and have been researching my family tree ...... I was particularly interested in the poem about Lupton Wrathall's death (buried in Burnsall). He was my greatx3 grandfather and my great-grandfather was Henry Lupton Robinson ..... He is buried in Hubberholme (near Buckden) churchyard.

I have a bit more information on Henry Lupton Robinson in that he was born just outside Appletreewick and his father, who married a daughter of Lupton Wrathall, was a farmer at Barden, an area next to Appletreewick, or App'trick as the locals call it! ..... J.B. Priestley, the author, is buried at Hubberholme - apparently he had been all around the world and thought this was the prettiest spot he had seen!

Henry Smith Robinson and Mary Hannah Wrathall were Henry Lupton's parents. ... He was born on 12th July 1875 and died in Buckden on 6th January 1942. ..... Life in the Dales was very "Deliverance"-like in those days. My grandmother (who married Henry Lupton Robinson's son) was born in Cray, the next hamlet to Hubberholme, and she once recalled as a young girl in the early 1900s that the only time she left the dale was the once a year visit in a pony and trap to Skipton!