2 September 1824: Following a summer drought, Patrick Brontë witnesses a peat bog collapse and flood four miles away at Crow Hill
Patrick Brontë. 1898. A Sermon Preached in the Church of Haworth, On Sunday, the 12th Day of September, 1884, in Reference to an Earthquake, and Extraordinary Eruption of Mud and Water, That Had Taken Place Ten Days Before, in the Moors of That Chapelry. The Reverend Patrick Brontë, A.B., His Collected Works and Life. Ed. J. Horsfall Turner. Bingley: T. Harrison for the editor. Get it:
.Unedited excerpt
The excerpt in the book is shorter, edited and, where applicable, translated.
“His lightnings enlightened the world; the earth saw, and trembled. The hills melted like wax at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the Lord of the whole earth.”
The Saviour of a lost world usually availed himself of all the advantages offered by incidental circumstances, calculated to convey moral and religious instruction to his hearers. The infinitely wise Redeemer selected this as the best method to awaken the drowsy, interest the indolent, inform the ignorant, and build up believers in their most holy faith.
Endeavouring, though at an immeasurable distance, to follow the example of our Lord, I would avail myself of the advantages now offered for moral and religious improvement, by the late Earthquake and extraordinary Eruption, which lately took place about four miles from this very church in which we are now assembled. You all know, that on the second day of this month of September, and in this present year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and twenty-four, at about six o’clock in the afternoon, two portions of the Moors in the neighbourhood sunk several yards, during a heavy storm of thunder, lightning, and rain, and issued forth a mighty volume of mud and water, that spread alarm, astonishment, and danger, along its course of many miles.
Previously to the issuing forth of this flood, as I learn from some who reside near the place, there was a very considerable tremour of the neighbouring parts, and I was able myself to perceive something of the kind, though at the distance of four miles. This circumstance, which was not noticed by many who live much nearer, requires some explanation, which I shall give you in a few words. As the day was exceedingly fine, I had sent my little children, who were indisposed, accompanied by the servants, to take an airing on the common, and as they stayed rather longer than I expected, I went to an upper chamber to look out for their return. The heavens over the moors were blackening fast. I heard muttering of distant thunder, and saw the frequent flashing of the lightning. Though, ten minutes before, there was scarcely a breath of air stirring; the gale freshened rapidly, and carried along with it clouds of dust and stubble; and, by this time, some large drops of rain, clearly announced an approaching heavy shower. My little family had escaped to a place of shelter, but I did not know it. I consequently watched every movement of the coming tempest with a painful degree of interest. The house was perfectly still. Under these circumstances, I heard a deep, distant explosion, something resembling, yet something differing from thunder, and I perceived a gentle tremour in the chamber in which I was standing, and in the glass of the window just before me, which, at the time, made an extraordinary impression on my mind; and which, I have no manner of doubt now, was the effect of an Earthquake at the place of eruption. This was a solemn visitation of Providence, which, by the help of God, I shall endeavour to improve.
By considering How and for what reason Earthquakes are produced.
And then by making some particular observations in reference to that Earthquake which forms the immediate object of our attention.
Previously to my endeavouring to show how, and for what reasons Earthquakes are produced, let me tell you, that as my object is, I trust, solely to edify my hearers, and to do them good, I shall labour to be plain, carefully guarding against all unnecessarily hard words and phrases used by chemists, and many of the learned, and which lie beyond the reach of the generality of hearers, in almost every congregation, both in town and country.
When we speak of an earthquake, we mean an extraordinary shaking of the earth to a very considerable extent, which sometimes, though not always, rends the surface of the ground, and pushes it sideways, or upwards, or causes it to sink lower than usual. Thus earthquakes have been in different ages and countries, the most dreadfully effective instruments of vengeance, which God has employed against his guilty creatures. Sometimes by earthquakes God has merely agitated the ground, and filled the inhabitants with terror. Sometimes he has caused wide and awful chasms to be made, but has destroyed no lives. Sometimes he has opened the flood-gates beneath, and produced standing pools of water; or, as in the case before us, overwhelming rivers that have borne down all before them. And sometimes by earthquakes he has let his vengeance fall in all its terror, shaking and sinking whole cities, with thousands of inhabitants, in a moment of time, and covering the ruins of men and houses over with one wide stagnant lake.
God occasionally, without the intervention of second causes, produces earthquakes, as he did at the destruction of Korah, Dathan and Abiram, with their rebellious adherents. But far more frequently he uses the elements as his instruments, which, however, does not make the work less his own, than if he were to effect his purpose by a miracle.
Sometimes earthquakes are produced by certain inflammable substances, such as sulphur kindled underground, and causing an expansion, that struggles till it bursts its usual limits.
This fire underground may be produced in a variety of ways; by the friction or collision of bodies, as when fire is elicited by the rapid whirling of an axis upon wood or iron; or by the quick and forcible contact of flint and steel; or by some chemical process, such as the pouring of water on newly burnt limestone; or fires may be kindled at greater depths than we imagine, by lightning or electrical fluid, under some other modification.
Owing to some one of these causes, no doubt, Etna, Vesuvius, and other burning mountains, for several days before they disgorge liquid fire, shake to their very bases, and not unfrequently cause a tremour far beyond these, exhibiting earthquakes on the grandest and most appalling scale.
The kindling also by some of the aforesaid causes, of what miners usually call fire damps, and which are frequently to be found at the bottom of deep pits and wells, may produce such a convulsion and expansion as will constitute an earthquake. The dreadful effects of these fire-damps when kindled are but too well known in this country, to need an illustration; sometimes in deep and extensive coal-pits, where there is not a free and continual flow of air, explosions take place, that scorch and force all things round them; and, in an instant of time, hurry numbers of souls into eternity.
Water also is another cause of earthquakes, and the last that I shall mention. When a number of streams suddenly rush into one place under ground, which lies considerably below their respective sources, and especially when this water so collected is made to expand by extraordinary heat, arising from electrical fluid, or some other cause, like the too powerful expansion of water in an overcharged and overheated boiler, that trembles and bursts, it will make the earth that surrounds it to shake and rend, till the expanding element, urged on by the incumbent streams, obtains a vent, and either forms itself into a standing lake, or rolls onward in an impetuous torrent. This, in all probability, was the nature of the phenomenon we have under consideration; which, though it may be called by some the bursting of a bog or quagmire, had all the precursors, accompaniments, and results of an earthquake, and justly merits that appellation.
This shaking and opening of the earth, and eruption of mud and water, was preceded by a profound calm, and accompanied by a very high wind, and much lightning and thunder: and both before and after, the air was strongly electrified, as was manifest from the sultry heat, the frequent and vivid lightning and loud thunder, and the apparent mingling of the clouds, and their coppercoloured, and hazy, lowering gloom.
In all probability, as the ground is already sunk to a great extent, and riven and shaken for a considerable distance, there will be a more than usual conflux of water to the place; which may, from time to time, produce other sinkings of the earth, and other eruptions of mud and water, upon a less extensive and less destructive scale.
The operating cause, whatever it was, must have been very powerful; as two cavities were formed, one of which was not less than four or five yards deep, in some places, and six or seven hundred yards in circumference; and a rapid torrent of mud and water issued forth, varying from twenty to thirty yards in width, and from four to five in depth; which, in its course for six or seven miles, entirely threw down or made breaches in several stone and wooden bridges-uprooted trees laid prostrate walls and gave many other awful proofs, that, in the hand of Omnipotence, it was an irresistible instrument to execute his judgments.
Having thus stated how earthquakes are produced, we shall briefly mention some of the reasons which God has for giving birth to, and employing them, in different ages and nations.
God, sometimes, produces earthquakes as manifestations of his power and majesty. In this sense he employed them at the delivery of the Ten Commandments to Moses; when “Mount Sinai was altogether on a smoke, because the Lord descended upon it in fire; and the smoke thereof ascended as the smoke of a furnace; and the whole mount quaked greatly.”
Sometimes earthquakes are produced as instruments of condign and final punishment; when men have obstinately persevered in rejecting the offered mercies of the Lord, and have proceeded to open rebellion against him. Such was the earthquake that caused that horrid opening which swallowed up the Israelitish rebels in the wilderness, and spread consternation and dismay throughout the remainder of their host.
Sometimes, God produces earthquakes as awful monitors to turn sinners from the error of their ways, and as solemn forerunners of that last and greatest day, when the earth shall be burnt up-and the heavens shall pass away with a great noise-and the universal frame of nature shall tremble, and break, and dissolve. In this sense, earthquakes are viewed in our text; and in this sense our Lord viewed them, when he spoke of the destruction of Jerusalem, and of his coming to judgment; and in this sense we ought to view the earthquake that has lately been produced in our own neighbourhood and parish.
Let us then endeavour, by God’s help, to improve this solemn visitation, by making some particular observations in reference to it, as being the immediate object of our attention this day.
On the day after the earthquake, when the fame of it had reached the inhabitants of Haworth and surrounding parishes, motley groups of people from all quarters, hastened in to view the scene; and exhibited, in miniature, a picture of the world-a picture not merely of the inhabitants of Haworth, and Keighley, and Bradford, but of England, and France, and Spain, and the four quarters of the globe.
As I was myself one of the number, I had an opportunity of a near view of the picture, in the most advantageous light; and found it exactly to resemble fallen man, in all ages and climates, since God expelled our first parents from the garden of Paradise.
Whether we examine the Scriptures, or uninspired history, or the inhabitants of the most highly polished and civilised countries, or of the most remote and barbarous islands, where men come nearest to an unsophisticated state of nature, with the exception of a few outward and merely incidental circumstances, we find there is such an exact likeness, that each might be taken for a twin brother to the other; and that it might be truly said, this is but one family, whose whole souls and bodies are polluted by the sins of their common and fallen parents, and who all stand equally in extreme need of the enlightening influence of the Holy Spirit, and the cleansing efficacy of the crucified Saviour’s blood.
As I proceeded up the channel, along which the overwhelming and ruinous flood had lately passed, I heard some, whilst surveying the ruins of overthrown bridges and walls, lament in pathetic terms the great expense that must be incurred by the different townships.
Others, I observed, were absorbed in matters still nearer home; whose sorrows were confined within the narrow limits of their own fields of corn, so lately their hope, but now laid prostrate and ruined. But the greater part, by far, I could perceive, rushed on, impelled by mere idle curiosity.
Here and there, however, I was able to discern one in deep contemplative mood, who saw by faith through nature to nature’s God, and could in the appropriate language of our text say-” His lightnings enlightened the world, the earth saw and trembled. The hills melted like wax, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the Lord of the whole earth.”
Some, I discovered, who being mere scientific men, could neither penetrate so far, nor rise so high as this; who only looked at second causes, and grovelled here below. In all their observations, however shrewd and appropriate in some respects, I could easily perceive, that they generally left out of their reasoning, the Grand First Cause. They wanted the wings of faith, to soar above matter into the region of spirit and this want cannot be supplied, by the utmost stretch of human invention and power.
When I arrived at the two great cavities, I was strongly reminded of some memorable events recorded in the Scriptures, and of many of the occurrences of daily life.
A few gravely contemplated the sunk and riven earth, and, in pious ejaculations, poured out their hearts unto God. Like pious Noah and his family, whilst surveying the ravages of the Deluge, they thought of the direful effects of sin, of the infinite mercy, as well as justice, of the Lord; and how, in this instance especially, he had graciously remembered mercy in judgment.
Several graceless persons wrangled and disputed with each other, even in the very bottom of the cavities, and on their edges; utterly regardless of the warning voice of Providence, that so lately spoke to them in thunder, and seemed, even yet to give a tongue and utterance to every chasm that yawned around them.
Similar to this, was that bad spirit that actuated the discontented Israelites, when they murmured rebelliously over the very seam of the closed pit, which, but the day before, had swallowed up a part of their host for the sin of rebellion.
Many, I perceived, on their return home, who in all the giddy frivolity of thoughtless youth, talked and acted as if they dreamed not either of heaven or hell, death or judgment. And some, as I afterwards learnt, though they had been thoughtful for a time, lost, in a day or two afterwards, all their serious impressions.
Thus we often find it to be in daily life. When some grievous calamity befals a neighbourhood, or unexpected and sudden death hurries away an individual of consequence, a few are only impressed as they ought to be with the solemn occurrence: the greater part continue to indulge in their bad passions and practices, utterly regardless of every warning, and not considering the awful reckoning they will be brought to for these things on the last day.
Let us pray earnestly for divine grace, that we may be enabled to act differently, and to walk by faith in Christ Jesus. We have just seen something of the mighty power of God: he has unsheathed his sword, and brandished it over our heads, but still the blow is suspended in mercyit has not yet fallen upon us. As well might he have shaken and sunk all Haworth, as those parts of the uninhabited moors on which the bolts of his vengeance have fallen.
Be thankful that you are spared. – Despise not this merciful, but monitory voice of Divine Wisdom Hear, and learn to be spiritually wise, lest the day come suddenly upon you, when God “will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh as a desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you.” The Lord is long-suffering and of tender mercy; but if sinners continue to despise his mercies, and disregard his judgments, they shall at last be placed for ever beyond the reach of redemption, in eternal torments.
Happy are they, and they only, who attend to the voice of the Holy Spirit; who deny themselves, and take up their daily cross, and follow Christ. They shall have faith, which is the victory that overcometh this world – they shall come off more than conquerors over death – and, in perfect security on the last day, they shall fearlessly and triumphantly survey the wreck of universal nature, when the sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood-when the stars shall fall from their orbits, and the heavens and earth shall dissolve in flames, and pass away.
Printed at the Columbian Press, by T. Inkersley, Bradford.
(This Sermon, preached Sept. 12th, 1824, in reference to the Eruption ten days before, was reprinted in the Cottage Magazine, (Bradford), Jan. 1825, pp. 9-18. It, and the “Phenomenon” that precedes it, with the Sermon on Mr. Weightman that follows, were reprinted at Keighley for R. Brown, Bookseller, Haworth, about a dozen years ago, in a pamphlet of 41 pages.)
Comment
Comment
See also Brontë’s The Phenomenon, a presentation for children printed before this sermon in the anthology.
The children seem to have taken shelter in Ponden Hall, 100 yards away from the bog surge in Ponden Clough.
Elsewhere: The most remarkable, though not the most destructive flood which has ever been known in the river Aire, was in 1824. On the night of Sept. 2nd in that year, the inhabitants on the banks of the river were astonished to perceive in a few moments a very considerable height, by a frightful accumulation of black water, which prevented the dyehouses and similar establishments from working, destroyed the fish in the river, and effected immense damage in it irresistible course. This strange inundation was produced by the sudden discharge of a vast quantity of peaty water from a bog on the summit of Crow hill, about nine miles from Keighley, and six from Colne. An area of bog three quarters of a mile in circumference, sunk to the depth of from four to six yards, and the flood which was thus discharged rolled down the valley to Keighley with a terrible noise and violence. Stones of a vast size and weight were carried down by the stream more than a mile, corn fields were covered, and bridges were damaged, but happily no life was lost. A dreadful thunder storm raged at the time when the water descended from the moor, and the inundation was no doubt caused by the electric influence, or the agency of a waterspout, by which the accumulation of ages was liberated in a moment, and precipitated into the valley below.
See also John Nicholson’s Lines on the bog bursting in Yorkshire. It is said that Emily Brontë’s High Waving Heather was inspired by this event (though wasn’t she at Cowan Bridge School?):
High waving heather, ‘neath stormy blasts bending,
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars;
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,
Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,
Man’s spirit away from its drear dongeon sending,
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.
All down the mountain sides, wild forest lending
One mighty voice to the life-giving wind;
Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending,
Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,
Wider and deeper their waters extending,
Leaving a desolate desert behind.
Shining and lowering and swelling and dying,
Changing for ever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,
Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.
Also Shawna Ross (Ross 2021).
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- Bog (1) W/G ·
- Brontë Parsonage Museum (2) W/G ·
- Brontë, Anne (1820-49) (3), novelist and poet, the youngest member of the Brontë literary family W/G ·
- Brontë, Branwell (1817-48) (3), wastrel brother of the writers Charlotte, Emily, and Anne W/G ·
- Brontë, Emily (4) W/G ·
- Brontë, Patrick (1777-1861) (5), Irish Anglican minister and author, curate at Dewsbury, Hartshead, Thornton, Haworth, father of the writers Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë W/G ·
- Colne (4) W/G ·
- Cowan Bridge School (1) W/G ·
- Cowan Bridge (1) W/G ·
- 📌Crow Hill, Keighley (1) W/G ·
- Drought (2) W/G ·
- Drowning (24) W/G ·
- Earthquake (2) W/G ·
- Fish (10) W/G ·
- Flash flood (3) W/G ·
- Flood (12) W/G ·
- 📌Haworth (7), village 10 miles west of Bradford, known for the Brontës and the Keighley and Worth Valley heritage railway W/G ·
- Keighley (9) W/G ·
- Lancashire (35) W/G ·
- Landslide (2) W/G ·
- Peat (1) W/G ·
- 📌Ponden Hall (1) W/G ·
- Rain (15) W/G ·
- River Aire (27) W/G ·
- River Worth (1) W/G ·
- St Michael and All Angels’ Church, Haworth (2) W/G ·
- Thunderstorm (6) W/G ·
- Wetland (1) W/G ·
- Worth Valley (dale) (1) W/G ·
Comment
Comment
See also Brontë’s The Phenomenon, a presentation for children printed before this sermon in the anthology.
The children seem to have taken shelter in Ponden Hall, 100 yards away from the bog surge in Ponden Clough.
Elsewhere: The most remarkable, though not the most destructive flood which has ever been known in the river Aire, was in 1824. On the night of Sept. 2nd in that year, the inhabitants on the banks of the river were astonished to perceive in a few moments a very considerable height, by a frightful accumulation of black water, which prevented the dyehouses and similar establishments from working, destroyed the fish in the river, and effected immense damage in it irresistible course. This strange inundation was produced by the sudden discharge of a vast quantity of peaty water from a bog on the summit of Crow hill, about nine miles from Keighley, and six from Colne. An area of bog three quarters of a mile in circumference, sunk to the depth of from four to six yards, and the flood which was thus discharged rolled down the valley to Keighley with a terrible noise and violence. Stones of a vast size and weight were carried down by the stream more than a mile, corn fields were covered, and bridges were damaged, but happily no life was lost. A dreadful thunder storm raged at the time when the water descended from the moor, and the inundation was no doubt caused by the electric influence, or the agency of a waterspout, by which the accumulation of ages was liberated in a moment, and precipitated into the valley below.
See also John Nicholson’s Lines on the bog bursting in Yorkshire. It is said that Emily Brontë’s High Waving Heather was inspired by this event (though wasn’t she at Cowan Bridge School?):
High waving heather, ‘neath stormy blasts bending,
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars;
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,
Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,
Man’s spirit away from its drear dongeon sending,
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.
All down the mountain sides, wild forest lending
One mighty voice to the life-giving wind;
Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending,
Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,
Wider and deeper their waters extending,
Leaving a desolate desert behind.
Shining and lowering and swelling and dying,
Changing for ever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,
Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.
Also Shawna Ross (Ross 2021).
Something to say? Get in touch
Similar
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23 January 1643: Thomas Fairfax, the Rider of the White Horse, captures Leeds from the Beast with the help of Psalm 68
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Comment
The rest of the article:
THE CALAMITY AT SHEFFIELD
The great mass of the flood waters seems now to have passed off from the Don, and the streets in its neighbourhood at Sheffield begin to wear somewhat of their old appearance. Not so, however, with the district over which the deluge poured. Many months must elapse before the buildings are restored, and years must go by before the face of the country can wear the aspect of verdure and careful cultivation which it bore on Friday night. The river, though fallen, is far from being as low as it generally is at this time of the year, and every furlong of the stream’s banks exhibits almost innumerable traces of the inundation – such as trees, balks, and beams of timber firmly embedded in its bed. The open land in this neighbourhood is still for the greater portion under water, and, as that drains off, a number of bodies will, it is feared, be exposed to view. The large hollows which abound are being filled up by the hundreds of cartloads of mud which are being deposited in them. The great manufacturers are busily engaged cleaning out their warehouses, and polishing their machinery, which had become rusty by the water. Harvest-lane presents the same picture of mud, cinders, dead horses, cows, and pigs that it did on Sunday. Bridgehouses was as busy as ever. The Whiterails has been cleared. A great portion of the thick deposit of mud has been carted away, giving the street somewhat of its usual appearance. In Nursery-street, with its now silent manufactories, is the Lady’s-bridge. A great portion of the rubbish has been removed from beneath the arches, and the water now flows freely on as far as the Blonk-bridge, where the stream is still impeded by a mass of rubbish. Blonk-street yet remains in the same state as on Sunday. The works in this vicinity are also stopped for repairs. As a rule, however, the damage done to the great manufacturers in the town has been slight. Mr. John Brown’s works and those of Mr. Bessemer escaped without any injury, and were at work as usual on the Monday following the calamity. Messrs. Cammals’ works were only deranged, so to speak; but the new works building for Messrs. Naylor Vickers were rather seriously damaged. Round Neepsend and by Hillsborough and Owlerton-road, where the great mischief fell, the inhabitants of the houses are busily engaged pumping the water out of their cellars. “Wallers” and masons are engaged in rebuilding, wherever practicable, the walls that have been washed down. Further down in the gardens opposite, at the other side of the river, a very painful incident occurred. Two or three men were engaged in removing the rubbish of one of the small, inhabited garden-houses. Near them stood a young woman, with two children clinging to her dress, the only ones saved from the wreck of their cottage. The rubbish had almost been cleared away when the leg of a human being was exposed to view. Brick after brick was removed, until the poor woman recognized the remains of her husband. A little above where this incident occurred the corpse of a child was brought out of the mud in an open space near the Old Brewery. About 20 yards from this the body of a man was also found. As these bodies were carried on stretchers to the workhouse a large crowd followed, but the greatest order and decorum were observed by every one.
[Excerpt above]
In the Kelham rolling mills the escape of the workmen was very narrow indeed. The first alarm was given by a man who had been asleep at the bottom end of the mill, and who was awoke by the rushing in of the waters. He hastened to where his fellow-workmen were getting dinner – these men being what are called the “night shift” – and gave them warning. Fortunately, the gates of the yard were closed, and the men had no means of getting out by these means. Had they done so they would inevitably have been swept away by the tide which passed in front of the buildings. They climbed on the roof, and, as has already been told, contrived, in their extreme eagerness to escape, to set it on fire in doing so. But the more remarkable circumstance remains to be told. The man who gave the alarm, and who was the means of saving the lives of so many of his fellow-workmen, lost his father, mother, wife, and two children, who lived at Malin-bridge; and his own bedstead, with other of his furniture, floated into the mills where he, with others, was a prisoner – a distance of not less than 2½ miles. In another part of Kelham island a man and his wife, who occupied a small cottage, on hearing the noise of the waters, went out to save their pig. Both were swept away by the torrent, and the pig as well.
Michael Armitage’s flood site – whence the photo – is brilliant. I must also introduce this excavation of the Kelham Rolling Mills site, with its Charles Peace connection.
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