A furious 14th Century storm destroyed the coastal village of Skinburness, on the Solway - the firth that separates Scotland and Cumbria. The survivors relocated inland, to higher ground, in the straggling village of Newton Arlosh. Their new church was dedicated to St John the Evangelist. Ann Lingard, the Solway historian, has described it as a "tough-looking little church." Well it might have been. Besides the fickle weather, the marauding Scots were so close the church was built with walls seven feet thick. The main entry door was not but two feet wide. The area was not wealthy and the church fell into ruins until the 1840's when a local woman from Carlisle repaired and restored it.
Thus, in 1850, the Rev Robert Wightman arrived as the new Perpetual Curate. A brewer's son from Appleby, he had graduated from Cambridge. His elder brother - who spelled his name Weightman - was also a clergyman and had been a curate at the Bronte's vicarage in Yorkshire where he died, quite young.
Newton Arlosh was a remote and lonely place. In 1856, Rev. Wightman, then 38, married Harriet Glaister, a farmer's daughter from the local village of Botcherby. Mary Blair was their servant at the small parsonage. She thought they were a happy and loving couple although they drank altogether too much. Mary was the sole witness to the events of 5-6 May 1857.
Tuesday had been another day of drinking and by three in the afternoon, husband and wife were well into their cups. At about ten that night, Mary brought in some bread and cheese. She found the Rev Mr. Wightman asleep on the couch. His wife was on her knees on the floor with her head face down in a chair. Mary tried to rouse her but the clergyman told her to go away. He did, however, plead with his wife, "Dear Harriett, will you not go to bed?" Mary Blairleft them alone but checked on the Wightmans again about three in the morning. They hadn't moved. At some point, she heard Mr. Wightman go to his room. Then, at about dawn, near to 7, the clergyman came in to the kitchen to tell her, "Mary, the mistress is dead." He sent no word to anyone but went back to his bed and bottle.
At the inquest in Kirkbride, Dr. Hendrie from Carlisle spoke of some bruises he found on Harriet's throat but he believed they were not unlike those caused by natural suffocation. Mary Blair assured the inquiry she'd never seen any signs of quarrels or violence in the parsonage. Rev. Wightman was permitted to make a statement but it was described as "unintelligible owing to his state of drunkenness." Some more kindly folk ascribed his condition to his obvious grief at the loss of his wife of just thirteen months. The coroner was left to rule the cause of death was suffocation caused by intoxication but he could not avoid commenting how painful it was to see a clergyman of the established church in such a condition. The Carlisle Journal's account was read across the country and few disputed the paper's summation: "What a melancholy spectacle. What a revelation of depravity and disgrace."
In the Victorian period, there were many more clerical disciplinary actions resulting from alcohol abuse than from moral failings of any kind. Nonetheless, the scandal at such a remote place quickly faded. The Rev Mr. Wightman remained at Newton Arlosh while his drinking continued. By 1863, the Bishop of Carlisle ordered an inquiry into reports of his habitual drunkenness. The locals didn't seem unduly concerned; they thought he was a nice man albeit commonly "tipsy," "chatty" and often "smelling like a cask." Wightman did not attend the inquiry. In fact, when summoned, he could not be found. He seems to have simply left, disappearing from the clerical directories, and never to be heard from again. Any new information would be of great interest.
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Illustration: visitcumbria.com
