Swarkeston Bridge
By William Smithard
The deservedly famous old bridge of Swarkeston situated a few miles south of Derby, where in a beautiful verdant and fertile vale the noble Trent sweeps towards the sea in a series of majestic curves.
The river, than which there are but two longer in the country, was of old a convenient rough-and-ready dividing-line across the middle of England; and the frequency with which the phrases “north of Trent” and “south of Trent” were used, shows that the stream was a recognised and familiar boundary to the monarchs and nobles who parcelled out shires and counties for themselves or friends in the Middle Ages.
Its general direction is from west to east, but its course is made up of large bends composed of small ones. In the first part of King Henry IV., Act III., Scene I., Shakespeare makes Hotspur complain of the windings of the Trent, thus:—
“Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here,
In quantity equals not one of yours:
See how the river comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my land
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.
I’ll have the current in this place damm’d up;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run
In a new channel, fair and evenly.”
It is not known where or how, if at all, the Romans permanently bridged the Trent hereabouts; probably they were content with fords and ferries. In the Middle Ages, however, several fine stone bridges were erected over the river; there was a very long one of thirty-six arches at Burton in the twelfth century, and most likely there would then be no other between that town and Nottingham, some twenty miles distant. At any rate, the first record we have of Swarkeston Bridge is in the year 1276, and the oldest parts of it remaining—which appear to be the original work—appertain to the thirteenth century.
Swarkeston is about eight miles below Burton, and the bridge, which is nearly a mile in length, lies north and south. It takes its name from the village of Swarkeston at its northern end, though most of the bridge, being south of the Trent, is in the parish of Stanton, which latter place is indebted to the bridge for the title that distinguishes it from the multitude of Stantons elsewhere.
The portion of the structure which actually spans the Trent is a shapely, well-designed and very substantial modern bridge on five round arches, put up at the close of the eighteenth century; but the special feature about Swarkeston Bridge is that, after crossing the river proper, it is continued as a raised causeway right across the low-lying meadows of the Trent valley. It is in this long causeway that all interest centres, for there—although the bridge has been widened, and at different times repaired and renewed incongruously—we have the true route-line of the causeway, and much original work still remaining.
The necessity for this extension is very obvious to anyone who has seen, as I have several times, the river in flood, when Hotspur’s “smug and silver Trent” becomes a turbid, surging sea, many miles in extent, completely covering all the meadows within range of vision. The causeway is provided with culverts and archways to let the roaring waters pass through at such periods.
It has been conjectured, with some degree of probability, that the Trent was first spanned by a bridge at Swarkeston to accommodate the advance of King John’s army to the north towards the end of the year 1215. If this was the case, it must have been one of wooden piles, provided it was erected in a hurry. A temporary erection of this kind, in the place of a treacherous ford, would prove so useful that it would soon be followed by one of stone. At all events, records show that a bridge had been established here a long time before the accession of Edward I. In 1276, when inquiries were made throughout the kingdom as to exactions and irregularities during the much-troubled latter years of Henry III., it is entered on the Hundred Rolls that the merchants of the soke of Melbourne had not for some three years paid toll for passage over Swarkeston Bridge, which toll had been assigned by the King to the borough of Derby.
Now and again, during the next century, apparently whenever the bridge needed serious repair, the Crown diverted the toll from the town of Derby and assigned it to local commissioners, as entered from time to time on the Patent Rolls. On 12th January, 1325, when Edward II. was at Melbourne, he granted, under privy seal to the bailiffs and good men of the town of Swarkeston pontage (bridge toll) for three years for the repair of the bridge across the Trent; the toll was to be taken by the hands of William Grave, of Swarkeston, Richard de Swarkeston, Thomas Davy, of Stanton, or their deputy, and the whole proceedings were to be under the supervision of the Prior of Repton.
Before this time of three years had expired, namely, in December, 1327, Edward III., at the request of Robert de Stanton, granted to the bailiffs and men of Stanton and Swarkeston pontage towards the repair of the bridge between the two towns—it must have been considerably damaged, possibly of set purpose during the baronial disturbances towards the end of Edward II.’s reign—local commissioners being nominated to receive the toll, and the Prior of Repton being again appointed as supervisor.
In 1338 pontage for four years was again assigned for repair purposes to the good men of Swarkeston. Eight years later the pontage was granted for three years to the bailiffs and good men of the town of Derby, to be taken by the hands of John, son of Adam de Melbourne the elder, and John, son of Adam de Melbourne the younger, on things for sale passing over Swarkeston Bridge, for the repair of the said bridge.
There is little more written history of the bridge than that here cited, but it would not be right to omit the romantic legend as to its origin, which is so widely current and so generally believed that it is perhaps worthy of a qualified acceptance until some historical fact is found to take its place. The legend bears the stamp of probability, and it seems too good to be entirely an invention—at any rate, of modern times.
Once upon a time, then, according to this dateless tradition, a large and gay party was celebrating at Swarkeston Hall the betrothal of the two daughters of the lord of the manor. Tilting, hunting, hawking, and other mediæval sports had been enjoyed freely for several days, when the festivities were abruptly disturbed by an urgent summons for the lord of the manor and the two knightly lovers forthwith to join an assembly of the barons who were engaged in a hot dispute with a tyrannical King. Never, perhaps, did public spirit clash more disagreeably with personal preference; but the call of national duty was promptly answered.
At that time there was no Swarkeston Bridge, but in fair weather the Trent could be forded quite easily, as it can now. I have, in a recent summer, seen a foal walk across without wetting its knees; but the route is devious, and the river at Swarkeston notoriously treacherous; bright weedy shallows give way precipitately to great dark pools difficult to fathom, and eddying whirlpools alternate with powerful headlong currents of surprising swiftness.
Their task accomplished, runs the tale, the two knights set off for Swarkeston at full speed, leaving the earl to return more leisurely with his esquires and pages. In the meantime heavy rains had fallen, and on reaching the Trent valley after sunset, the knights found the green sward covered by surging muddy waters, through which, with true lover-like ardour, they spurred their tired horses in the growing darkness, unwilling, now so near, to let even such alarming floods prevent their reunion with the fair ladies of their choice.
The level meadows were crossed safely, but in the gloom the gallant knights either missed the ford across the river itself or were swept off it by the raging torrent; by the cruellest of mischances they were washed away and drowned within sight of the lighted windows of the hall, where all their hopes lay, and which they had striven so heroically to reach.
This tragic event was indeed a crushing blow for the earl and his family, but out of private grief came public joy. The bereaved ladies, so says the legend, looked on themselves as widows, and, in keeping with the spirit of the times, devoted the rest of their lives to the memory of their deceased lovers. Neither was their devotion mere sentiment, but it took a thoroughly practical form; determined that no one in future should suffer owing to the circumstances in which their own keen sorrow had arisen, they devoted all their substance to the building of the now historic bridge, and died in a cottage as poor as the humblest peasant.
On the bridge there was formerly a chantry chapel. From an inquisition held at Newark, October 26th, 1503, we learn that a parcel of meadow land, valued at six marks a year, lying between the bridge and Ingleby, had been given in early days to the priory of Repton, on the tenure of supplying a priest to sing mass in the chapel on Swarkeston Bridge; but that there was then no such priest nor had one been appointed for the space of twenty years. (Add. MSS. 6,705, f. 65.)
The Church Goods Commissioners of 1552 say under Stanton:—
“We have a chappell edified and buylded upon Trent in ye mydest of the streme anexed to Swerston bregge, the whiche had certayne stuffe belongyng to it, ij desks to knele in, a table of wode, and certayne barres of yron and glasse in the wyndos, whiche Mr. Edward Beamont of Arleston hath taken away to his owne use, and we say that if the Chappell dekeye the brydge wyll not Stonde.”
The report of the Commissioners shows that the chapel was evidently an integral portion of one of the bridge piers, as was often the case, and was probably coeval with its first building.
The chapel was demolished altogether when the spans over the river were rebuilt in the eighteenth century, and there is now no trace of it remaining, nor does there appear to be any drawing of the sacred place; though, of course, anyone familiar with other such Gothic buildings can easily picture for himself what this chapel would be like.
For six centuries has the bridge been a popular highway for all classes of the community, and it is linked closely with at least two important epochs in English history.
In the great Civil War of 1642–1646, the bridges at Nottingham, Swarkeston, and Burton were regarded as the keys to the North. In the winter of 1642–3, Col. Sir John Gell, the able commander of the Derbyshire regiment, heard that the Royalists were fortifying Swarkeston Bridge, so he marched thither, stormed the works and dismantled the same, after driving away the enemy with a loss of seven or eight killed and many wounded. The date of the “Battle of Swarsen bridge” is given in the register of All Saints’, Derby, as 5th January, 1642–3. The towns of Nottingham and Burton, along with their bridges, were taken and retaken several times during the war; but Derby was never in the hands of the Royalists, and this immunity Sir John Gell attributed to his having in his holding Swarkeston Bridge during the whole of the troublous period.
At this bridge occurred also the climax of the latest invasion of England, i.e., that by the “Young Pretender” in 1745. By the time Charles Edward Stuart had reached Derby, he realised that his project was hopeless. His army had increased scarcely at all since he left Scotland, and his mountain warriors, who had marched all the way from their native Grampians, found, when they got to the end of the Pennine Chain, their way barred by the great plain of England. They never crossed the Trent, and although their advance guard reached Swarkeston Bridge, that was only a movement to kill time while the courageous Highlanders braced themselves to endure the humiliation of a retreat.
The Prince had traversed half the length of England, only to find the people were too prosperous and contented to wish to disturb the ruling dynasty; and the King’s two armies, more powerful than his own, were rapidly approaching the invader’s troops. So the 7,000 clansmen, with their tartans and pipes, did not march over the bridge, and the people of Swarkeston were thus deprived of a fine spectacle, doubtless much to their relief. Since then the repose of the bridge has never been disturbed by wars or rumours of wars.
The viaduct over the meadows is delightfully irregular, and its course varies sympathetically with the neighbouring river. The general direction is north and south, but the whole length may be said to form a gentle arc. The surface rises and falls, and the parapet walls are full of unexpected nooks—first a corner and next a curve, now an angle and then a bend; here a concavity and there an inward bulge. In and out and up and down the bridge winds gently, and at intervals, near the arches, are dark, glistening pools, fringed with the sword-like leaves and heavy-scented yellow blooms of the iris, while on the glossy surface of the water are spread the delicate palette-like leaves and golden ball flowers of the water-lily.
There are still remaining in the bridge fifteen old arches; two very beautiful ones are near the northern end, and at the other extremity is a fine group of six. In places, too, are stretches of very old and weathered masonry, pathetically irregular, with parts of a bold string course showing at intervals. The soffits of the old arches are lined with ribs, which increase both their beauty and strength, and there are some very interesting buttresses. It is a matter for regret that the Derbyshire County Council found it necessary in 1899 to make this romantic old bridge strong enough to carry steam-rollers. By the lavish use of blue bricks to underpin a number of the old arches, the utilitarian purpose was achieved, but much of the bridge’s peculiar beauty has been sacrificed thereby; yet in spite of this mischance, there is still enough charm left to make a visit to Swarkeston always a pleasure.