Captain Tom Moore given colonel title on 100th birthday https://t.co/bu7i7BlwuJ

— BBC News (UK) (@BBCNews) April 30, 2020

Captain Tom – your “heroic efforts have lifted the spirits of the entire nation”. Boris says so. Her Majesty sends her congratulations and best wishes, and so do I and all of us. £30,000,000, raised by your walk for the NHS, so far – the fund will probably keep rising till it closes at midnight tonight. Promoted Honorary Colonel. England cricketer. Top of the Pops, too. Etc., etc.

Ah, the power of ‘pedestrianism’!

But time now to say farewell to (our other veteran pedestrian) Mark All. In this, the last episode of my peep into the life of Mark All, I want to look – in snapshot mode – at the period that stretches from 1908 all the way till the time of his death in 1925, using as illustrations some of the press cuttings that punctuate his long journey.

Mark All was a man of obsessive determination. That, and a handful of raisins were what sustained him. He walked, he said, on purpose; to prove a man was not finished at 45. Whether he walked as part of a wager remains unclear. As far as I can see he never seems to have picked up any of the prizes or rewards he said were involved. He carried on undeterred, setting himself a new target as the years and miles went by until eventually it merges into the one: the boast to have walked 350,000 miles.

But never on a Sunday!

Only once or twice does the courage of his conviction seem to fail him. Besides the general “It’s the wet weather that tries me most”, the sole example I can find of Mark All feeling sorry for himself is on July 25th, 1912 when he told the Royal Cornwall Gazette, “Yes Sir, my walking days are over. Ah! I am not the man I used to be. My poor old feet and my poor old eyes are failing me.” Almost exactly a year later, on July 19th, 1913 he was in Sunderland where he told the Daily Echo that he’d set out in March that year intent on walking 5000 miles in ninety days throughout the British Isles. He’d been due to finish on June 6th, but bad weather had delayed him, and he arrived a day late. So he started all over again. 55 miles a day, 60 on a good one!

Nor did the war years, 1914-18, seem particularly to have hindered his progress. He seems, with the better part of valour, to have kept to British soil. The Essex Newsman of 22nd May 1915 had on its front page, for instance: “Mark All … had walked through France and was in Belgium previous to going through Germany last July, but acting on the advice of two gentlemen, whom he believed to have been German officers, he made his way back to England.” Accounts differ though, some saying that he was often in France during this time. And the tale grows taller: “He has been over practically every inch of the present battlefields, and has tramped through large tracts of practically every known country. Once General French, the commander of the British troops, said to him, “You have been where I would really never dream of sending a detachment of men.”

Mark All was 87 years old in 1915 when the West Sussex Gazette described him as “fit as a fiddle … He says he only eats two meals a day – breakfast and tea, and he smokes strong twist, “because there seems to be more nicotine in it”.

In the years immediately following the war, news coverage goes quiet for a while, but then in the Twenties, as Mark All entered into his nineties and his pedometer showed he was approaching the 300,000 milestone, the news hounds began to take a renewed interest in him again.

Here, for instance, is a snippet from the Cambridge Daily News of July 27th, 1920. He’d recently been in Belfast where the man from the Irish Independent told him, “Oh, Mark, you must take that Union Jack off or you will not get back to England again: we shall riddle you”. He escaped that hairy moment, but only the day before this interview tramping the road between Barnet and St Albans he’d had an unfortunate encounter with a motorcycle, the driver of which, he says, was drunk. He was run down and received a nasty shaking. “But I had my good old stick with me”, he added with a smile, “and he did not get off free. I think people are off their heads since the war.”

Nor was this likely his first or last run-in with the infernal horseless carriage. On October 12th 1923, Mark All called at the office of the Central Somerset Gazette and told how “only three weeks ago he was knocked down by a motorist, who drove on, though he had gone over the old man’s foot and left him lame beside the road. But All is a philosopher and has no room for bitterness, so just plods on in the race between space and age. If he can hold out for the next 13,269 miles, he hopes to finish his long pilgrimage in London in April or May of next year, and at the age of 96 to take his hard-earned rest.”

An entry in his diary written on his 95th birthday (June 11th 1923) reads: “Since August 6th 1900, I have walked 356,000 miles. Finished in Exeter. Now got to walk to London to get my reward”

Come March 1925, however, it is apparent that the end was approaching. The West Sussex County Times on Saturday the 7th described how “Increasing years have told on the old man, and certainly he cannot do much more walking. The upright carriage of years ago has been replaced by the stoop of old age. and laboured breathing, too, has a tale to tell. But Mark All, still clear-eyed, and with ruddy cheeks from exposure to the air, is nevertheless a wonder.”

The same article gives a neat resumé of his long journey thus far, reminding its readers that: “It was on the 6th August 1900, that he left Fleet-street, London, to walk 225,000 miles in 16 years. On this tour he passed through the five continents, visiting the chief places five times. In the British Isles he visited every town and city 17 times, completing the distance at London on Aug. 2nd, 1916. Then, being unable to go abroad, owing to the War, Mark undertook to walk 25,000 miles in the British Isles, to bring his total in eighteen years to 250,000. Subsequent visits to Horsham showed totals as follows: June 8th, 1918, 252,287 miles; October 5th, 1918, 257,603 miles: October 18, 1919. 273,590 miles; July 10th, 1920. 287,502 miles; July 30th, 1921, 304.000; June 10, 1922, 316.000; September 1922, 318,000; October 1924. 352.000 miles … we can only repeat what was said in these columns on July 30th, 1921: “it is to be hoped he will at last enjoy the rest so well deserved and so hardly won.”

Having worn out 140 pairs of boots, Mark All died a pauper’s death at Shirley Warren Poor Law Infirmary, Southampton, on or about 31st March 1925, his identity only revealed afterwards when his papers were examined. A dozen or so of the provincial newspapers, to whom he was a familiar visitor, noted his passing in brief notices, one of them, The Beds and Herts Pictorial and Tuesday Telegraph, 7th April 1925, noting, “Whether the veteran ever got his £3,000 I don’t happen to know. The gentleman [Alfred Harmsworth / Lord Northcliff] to whom he looked for it died before the walk was completed, but when Mark last called … he was very sanguine about claim being met … Like most ‘gentlemen of the road’, Mark could draw the long bow when a favourable opening offered, but, all the same, he was a remarkable old personality.”

The sweetest valediction I found is this one, penned by ‘ONLOOKER’ in the Exeter and Plymouth Gazette of Friday 3rd April 1925:

“Poor old Mark All, the veteran walker, has come the end of his long journey at last. He died this week in Southampton Infirmary at the age of 96. In the course of his itinerary the old man passed through Exeter on several occasions, and one was never quite able come the conclusion whether he was the victim a hoax or whether he himself a hoaxer. Mark’s journeys were genuine enough, and he had padded the hoof over greater part Europe. But, time after time, he came round with a tale that was completing journey for a wager, and that his success would provide means enough for retirement from the road. When he was just on 90 he told me he was he was getting very tired and old, and that I had seen him for the last time. But he turned up again quite cheerfully twice after that and told the same old story, and, of course, wanted his book signed so that he could show “his people” he had done his journeys. He was quite an entertaining old fellow, and related interesting stories of famous people had met, from the late King Edward to the Russian brigands who once laid him out for dead. He never begged, but his stories usually resulted in his getting the small amount cash needed to speed him his way. Tall and straight, with a long white beard, he might well have been taken for the Wandering Jew. But in conversation he demonstrated pretty clearly that he was a Briton of the Britons. He had been out his country quite enough to appreciate that it was the finest on earth. The fascination the road was upon him to the last and now he has reached the end the trail, may travel a beautiful highway where, to quote his own words, there will be no “bloomin’ motor cars choke an old follow with dust”.

RIP, Mark All. I will admit I misjudged you when first we met. I should have known better; that someone born in the reign of George IV and who survived into the reign of George V could hardly be dismissed as ordinary. Sorry! I thought you were a tramp of the old school vagrant sort. I rather jumped to that conclusion. It took time, but eventually I recognised your innate nobility by the pride you took in your neat appearance. So too, the determination and fortitude you demonstrated right to the end and, ”gainst all disaster’. Your blackthorn stick taught me that. These eventually revealed the error of my ways.

I would like to think that you picked up your reward, and if not in money, then perhaps by setting the example that others have later followed – including, if this is not altogether too far-fetched, Captain, now Colonel, Tom Moore himself.

I leave off therefore, with his words today:

“People keep saying what I have done is remarkable, however it’s actually what you have done for me which is remarkable.

“Please always remember, tomorrow will be a good day.”

Here is the second and concluding part of the ripping yarn of Mark All’s great pedestrian adventure, as it appeared in the pages of The Wide World Magazine in February 1908.

I hope the text is sufficiently clear to be legible. I am working on a transcript and will post that when it is complete. I also intend one last post on Mark All himself – a brief summation of his life and ramblings between 1910 until the time of his death in 1925. I think it right and proper to dedicate it to Captain ‘Fantastic’ Tom Moore.

Bingo! My quest in search of Yorick Gradeley proved rewarding. Fruitful indeed: it hit three cherries and paid out with not one, but TWO articles that he composed based on the adventures of Mark All and starring the man himself in the leading role. These were published in a journal called ‘The Wide World Magazine’ and appeared in the January and February editions of 1908. I am pasting copies of the pages below so you can read them for yourselves. I’ll do so in two episodes …

I didn’t discover much otherwise about Yorick Gradeley himself. Well, I say, not much. He pops up here and there, but randomly. He wrote a number of pieces under the title of ‘Battle To the Strong’ extolling the virtues of manly vigour. Come to that, he was, it seems, an early and enthusiastic contributor to ‘Health and Efficiency’ magazine . (Interesting, but don’t get side-tracked). Whilst not that way engaged, he was equally a busy as a proponent of open air theatre in Epping Forest. “Dear Sir”, he wrote to The London Daily News in February 1906, “I make bold now to create the band or bands of Woodland Players whose function it shall be throughout the Spring and Summer to tour the sylvan glades performing pastoral and fairy plays not for lucre, but for love”. Make of this what you will, he also took Mark All (at least, as we have seen, his notebooks and diary) under his wing …

Meanwhile.

My investigation of Mark All and his marathon tramp has led me to appreciate a number of things.  Not least, I now recognize how easily an obsession sets in, especially when a task is undertaken by someone with purpose and determination. Mark All was not a vagrant; he was an out of work engineer bent on proving a point that he was not ready for the industrial scrapheap because of his age. I have come to see him as a proud, skilled man, skilled not least in a talent for self-preservation. I also have come to know his character a little better, and even admit a little (naïve) disappointment that he was not more benevolent in his outlook towards his fellow travellers. I come to terms with this by putting him into the context of his times. Allow me if you will to conjure up the metaphorical landscape through which Mark All moved.

He was, after all, a man of his times. These were the years preceding the First World War. They were (unfortunately) characterised by a distinct anti-German sentiment. ‘Germanophobia’ along with its bastard-twin, anti-Semitism, was everywhere apparent. Just scratch the surface. It had roots in the nineteenth century but was accelerated by the Entente Cordiale between England and France in 1904, (in a nutshell, essentially a diplomatic agreement that settled who owned what in North Africa) after which a perceived fear of German militarism replaced the erstwhile admiration of German culture and literature. The relationship between King Edward and his nephew the Kaiser Wilhelm, never great, was, to say the least, dysfunctional. Erskine Childers’ ‘Riddle of the Sands’ was published in 1903 conveying the threat of German invasion!

And surprise, surprise, in the midst of all this, Alfred Harmsworth pops up again, albeit behind the scenes, manipulating the strings. In 1894, he had commissioned the author William Le Queux (look-him-up) to write a novel called ‘The Great War in England in 1897’ in which France and Russia had combined to crush Britain, until, with German aide this dastardly attempt was averted. Come 1906, Harmsworth had the same author change the title and the plot. This time it became, ‘The Invasion of 1910’ and the enemy was Germany. Serialized in The Daily Mail it was immensely successful, as well it might be with a newspaper magnate advertising it. Harmsworth, it is said, even hired actors dressed up as German soldiers, employed to ‘menace’ the shoppers in Oxford Street. In due course it was translated into 27 languages and eventually sold over a million copies. Only in Germany was it poorly received. It, and similar publications, soon stirred up an atmosphere of paranoia and xenophobia in society.

In popular culture the genie that Harmsworth, et al., let out of the bottle led to the creation of a caricature type of Englishman, a chap generally known as ‘one of the Bulldog-Breed’. Typically they were sterling sorts (usually drawn from the upper echelons, but often as not they kept a sidekick in tow who spoke the vulgar tongue). They had in common a fierce patriotism, a loyalty and were likewise physically and morally intrepid. Together, they were sworn in defence of their country against the threat of Johnny Foreigner. This, I think, is what Yorick Gradeley saw – or thought he saw – in Mark All. A sort of noble savagery. Alternatively, it was something he perhaps wished to project on to him. You, the jury, must decide.

So, now, with profuse and heartfelt apologies to my German friends in particular (and any others whom I might unwittingly offend), here is the first episode of Yorick Gradeley’s, ripping yarn: ‘A Sixty Thousand-Mile Walk’, as it appeared in ‘The Wide World Magazine’ in January 1908. The illustrations are by George Soper. It is, as it says, ‘To be concluded’. I will publish Part 2 soon as possible. Till then, keep well, and let me know your thoughts …

In my last post I wondered out loud if the book of cuttings, pen and ink sketches and diary that Mark All is known to have kept could possibly have survived. My wish that they might one day turn up has now come true. In future I shall perhaps be more careful what to wish for, as I shall reveal below.

First of all, this chapter opens in the years 1907-1908, the time when Mark All completed his first challenge – ‘sixty thousand miles in seven years’ – and then set out on his next marathon effort: 100.000 miles by August of 1910…

The Staffordshire Sentinel of Saturday 22 February 1908 reported that Mark All had:

‘covered the distance of sixty thousand miles within six months of the stipulated time, finishing on February the 14th, 1907.’

There’s no mention here (so far as I know) of any reward or prize being collected, only that,

‘On the 20th of March following, after taking a month’s rest, he started another 40,000 miles walk: and towards this he has already catered 15,390, making the sum total of the mileage 75.390, thus beating the world’s record, held by a German by 35.390 miles.’

The Sentinel article concludes:

‘He expects to cover his 100.000 miles in August of 1910, which represents a period of eight years and, ten months since starting on his marvellous itinerary … Although eighty years of age in June next he still walks at the rate of five miles an hour. His record speed is 56 miles in 6 hours, between Canterbury and London.’

Harking back a few months to the early summer of 1907, we strike a pot of gold I mention. In a quite substantial article written by a grandly-named Yorick Gradeley. It was published on May 4^th by the Weekly Irish Times under the title: LEAVES FROM DIARY OF MARK ALL. And here we get some insight into the personality of the man himself.

First though, let me quote the words of Yorick Gradeley himself who goes out of his way to state: “I have not attempted to preserve any sequences in collating extracts from a diary, which, however trite its entries may be, are fraught with great moral and political significance on account of the strong personality of the writer, and the circumstances under which he wrote. He was not a masquerading journalist in search of sensational ‘copy,’ but a working man, toiling and suffering amongst his fellows, and toiling and suffering for them. He had facilities for getting to the very heart of mankind that a more cultured seeker after truth would inevitably have missed.” I, too, should point out that I, have taken the pruning hook to what is otherwise is a long piece with many repetitions made to reinforce a point

In short, Mark All was no ragged-trousered philanthropist. At a glance, one suspects he did not pay his dues to the Social Democratic Federation, ILP or any other party of a socialist persuasion that was rising through the ranks at this time. Rather, says Gradeley, “The dominant note struck by our wayside philosopher is one of agonised misanthropy.” But then, it’s not that simple. Read on .

The article begins: ‘On the 6th of August 1900, an old man, with a little bag of tools slung over his shoulder, and a brindle bull dog by his side, went forth from Fleet street, London. On St Valentine’s day, 1907, the same old man paced once again the classic thoroughfare of Pressland …

‘… There was nothing suggestive of heroism or triumph in Mark All’s home-coming, and yet he is a hero; he has, indeed, achieved triumph – a great physical and industrial triumph, and therefore I rejoice to hear that he is to have an audience with the King. Walking has evidently become a ruling passion with him now.’

On March the 20th he called again at my office bid me good bye. He could not rest, he said, so he has set forth on another great tramp, intending to complete 100,000 miles by 1910 …’

Then, (here’s the business of the day).

‘Mark All himself [keeps a] very fascinating log book wherein he was wont to jot down his thoughts by the wayside, and which is now in my possession.’

And so he begins to reveal Mark All’s (as it turns out, rather dim) outlook on life. For instance, “It would surprise any thoughtful man,” he notes, “to go into a lodging house of a Saturday night and Sunday morning. There he will see the material the so-called British workman is made of … The best time to see this undesirable class of inhuman being is a Sunday morning after Saturday night’s booze. It is fact they are no good to themselves or employer at 25, say nothing about 45 years of age. Yet they call themselves British working men. I know a legitimate workman, as I do a bird by its note and actions. Very few will you find in lodging house long.”

“Many, many times”, Mr Gradely assures the reader, “the poor old fellow well nigh threw up the sponge, but the courage of his great purpose always sustained him, and a spark from the Divine anvil would ever and anon destroy his cynicism”.

Over and over again occur entries such these:

“I cannot live alone on air. I must have food and rest to accomplish my gigantic task, which I sincerely hope to do. I want to play the part of man under every circumstances.”

‘‘I am a Methuselahite. My religion is to live as long I can and do all the good I can my fellow-men. I want to leave a name behind that will not perish.”

[Every now and then Mark bursts forth into poetry, much of it of the mawkish sort, but sometimes with a touch of levity].

“If money talks, it ain’t on speaking terms with me.

I’d like have a shilling shake my hand and say “How do!”

I’d love to hear a five pound note say, “I belong to you.”

Several of the entries in the diary are made up of remarks on the towns he had visited on his excursion. Few are flattering, most give a jaded opinion. Here’s a few notes on places he visited whilst in Ireland that year.

Wicklow: “A very dull, sleepy town with very little or no life work in it. The people, what few there are, seen have lost all activity for themselves or thought for others.”

Waterford, July 15, ‘06. “It seems to be a business city, but a very large number are out of employ. One half don’t want work … or won’t [work] long.”

Cork City, July 16. ‘06. ‘‘(Treachery in this place). The farther you go South, the worse trade and poverty. Although this is large city, and you should able to find plenty of employment, people seem to be very dull, but not for self. Drink is the stumbling block to progress.”

Dublin: “I shall never have Dublin people to thank for their help to me, or hospitality. I do think I might drop down dead before any notice would be taken. I have had four nights’ lodgings, costing 2s., and 1s. 6d. have kept me from 10th July to 21st, 1906, and have walked to Queenstown and back, a distance 342 miles. One pound of raisins, costing 6d., has been my sole diet. I daily find my machine giving way. Help must come. May God help the man that is poorer than myself this blessed day.”

He evidently met the proverbial friend in need at Belfast – “The only friend I met, when I arrived in Belfast was the manager of Carrick House, Lower Regent street. I put up there for the night – bed, 6d. A very comfortable place, indeed, and I was very grateful for the good tea he gave me; a right good man in the right place.”

“But the most interesting passage in the old pedestrian’s diary”, says our hack, “are those wherein freely comments upon the social problems of the age. His observations, thereupon, are very valuable, says Gradeley:

‘The very best museum outside London, he reckoned he found at Liverpool, and after a visit thereto he writes, “If working men were to study works of art and virtue a bit more than they do, it would better for them and the country. Things would soon change for the best.”’

On the subject of intemperance, a visit to Leeds prompted this observation – ” Drink and horse-racing is hum-bugging the working classes of this country.”

The so-called ‘model lodging-houses’, even the much vaunted Corporation ‘hotels’ of Glasgow, or the ‘Rowton Houses’, built by the Victorian philanthropist Lord Rowton to provide decent accommodation for working men in London and elsewhere, seldom escape his censure.

“Without doubt respectable lodging houses are much needed in the British Isles and Ireland. It only in large cities that clean and comfortable beds can be found (and that not always) at sixpence per night. Often the so-called model lodging house is hot bed of vice and filth, where crime is manufactured and the police know it, and in many places visit the house nightly. There ought to in every town a respectable lodging house, where a respectable man seeking employment could find accommodation at 6d. per night, and not be compelled to mix up with the lowest class animal of the earth. To a thoughtful man, to be in some of the dens I’ve been in is cruel death, and worse than murder. On Sundays, a so-called religious service is held. What dreadful hypocrisy to God!”

He throws important sidelights upon the labour problem: “I am truly sorry that not all who are out of employment are bona fide working men, and not all who are on the road are aliens and strangers to work … Charity is not wanted. Bustling through this world are many millions of atoms calling themselves men and women, for the most part not knowing and not caring one solitary straw about each other – only self.”

“The poor law of this country is a very uncharitable law, which dubs a man ‘pauper’ indiscriminately, be he a tramp or loafer, or be he honest, old, and poor; although, perhaps, he has paid rent and rates all his life till he has no more strength for work, or money for food and house-shelter.”

“I rejoice to learn that this industrial “Pilgrim’s Progress” was not undertaken all in vain”. Says Gradeley in his conclusion. “Doors that were closed to the elderly artizan [sic] have been reopened, and the Rubicon that Avarice raised has been partially broken down. We do not hear so much as formerly of men being turned adrift when in the full vigour of manhood, simply because without being personally consulted in the matter, they happened to be born too soon. In this reform Mark All has played a great and a noble part … Oh good old man”.

Yorick Gradeley? That sounds like a name to conjure with. I must look him up. I wonder what else he wrote?

You can, if you have the wherewithal, read Yorick Gradeley’s article in full here: https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/BL/0001684/19070504/100/0016?browse=False

I am working away on a Chapter IV of Mark All’s ‘Great Walk’ (see previous below this one) and look forward to posting it here as soon as I can. (Spoiler Alert: I’ve come across one of his notebook diaries). Meanwhile – a sort of halt by the way – I set to thinking about tramps and tramping. The word ‘tramp’ has many synonyms – beggar, vagrant, ‘gentleman of the road’ – and conjures up as many images. Apart from those that come from personal recollection, others are based one way or another on the cheerful/doleful figure made famous by Charlie Chaplin. Or, for a little more verisimilitude, look up some of these images, for instance: http://www.peterberthoud.co.uk/blog/17032018144044-down-and-out-in-1930s-london

But just what sort of tramp was Mark All? (Aforesaid, I will reveal a little – actually, quite a lot – more about what I have discovered about his character as revealed in his notebooks in Chapter IV). Despite the many hardships and privations he suffered, it is clear that he wasn’t forced or obliged to do as he did. And we know he had a determination to go on to the end of his road. Indeed, he seemed to be doing it for a purpose, that was, to demonstrate to the world that ‘a man was not finished at forty’. Come to that, we do well to remember that for many, not just Mark All, tramping was a lifestyle, no doubt brought on by necessity but often with a useful purpose. In the course of my research I came across this book (which, I admit, I have yet to read cover to cover …) https://summersdale.com/2013/06/25/six-things-i-learned-as-a-twenty-first-century-tramp/ In it, the author, Charlie Carroll, reminds us that for centuries, to go ‘on the tramp’ (often with family in tow) would be to use well-known paths and networks to travel from town to town in search of casual work.  Labourers and servants, cloth-workers, peddlers, tinkers, builders, surgeons, students, mole-catchers, miners, clockmakers, locksmiths, barbers! ALL sorts did this to find employ. ‘Tramping, therefore, was viable. It could even be respectable …’

But wherever else the fancy wanders it comes back inevitably to George Orwell, and in particular his book, ‘Down and Out in Paris and London’, published in 1933 though written, I discover, three years earlier, and drawing on his experiences of four to five years before that. Thus, about the time of Mark All’s death in 1925. Classified as ‘fiction’ (though that is hotly debated), and described as ‘a memoir’, it falls into two parts, as the title suggests. The first half is set in Paris and the second in London, the theme of poverty binding the two together. It is the second half that is particularly redolent of old Mr All written as it is as a travelogue of life on the road in and around London from the tramp’s perspective.  The descriptions of the types of hostel accommodation available and some of the characters to be found living there are in many ways unsurpassed. “Foul smells are everywhere – only tobacco masks them. No work of literature is more odoriferous” writes John Sutherland, the author of a rather brilliant discussion of the book on the British Library website, available here: https://www.bl.uk/20th-century-literature/articles/an-introduction-to-down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

According to the rules of his wager, Mark All was forbidden to use the workhouse as a place to kip. Nor would he willingly have entered into one so much did he despise them as an institution. His pride as a skilled engineer forfended darkening its door. The lodging house was another matter. He had plenty of bitter experience of them as we’ll see anon. Whilst still in Paris in August 1929 Orwell sent an essay he had written based on his own experience back to London where it was (in 1931) published by the periodical New Adelphi. He entitled it ‘The Spike’, and in it he describes his staying overnight in the casual ward of a workhouse (‘a spike’) near London. You can read it here: https://www.orwellfoundation.com/the-orwell-foundation/orwell/essays-and-other-works/the-spike/

Finally, if you have the time (!) the inclination and the tackle, there’s a very good documentary programme (first broadcast in October 2011, “as Europe tries to fend off another financial crisis”) in which Emma Jane Kirby retraces Orwell’s footsteps eighty years later, so bringing ‘Down and Out’ up to date. It’s available to listen to on BBC Sounds – click here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p00kj589

Oh, and, afore ye go, this song: the lyrics by the late, great ‘Wobbly’, Joe Hill, rather knocks it ALL into a battered cocked hat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f–dCVyLpbk

Thank you. Keep busy, keep safe. I’ll be back …

A couple more clippings today which give a few snapshots of Mark All on his long trek. They date from the period between October 1905 to February 1907 when Mark All’s ‘first tramp’ (‘60,000 miles in seven years’) was underway and completed in good time. As you’ll learn, since August 1900 when he first set out from London, Mr All has travelled the length and breadth of the British Isles several times. He has been through Europe, too. He was intent on Russia as well but was unable to obtain a passport, ‘owing to the disturbed state of the country, and the many other matters demanding attention, the officials declined to be troubled with what they termed a fanatic.’

Here’s the first: October 7^th, 1905, A RECORD WALKER AT UXBRIDGE. We meet up with old Mr All in the western outskirts of London, where he visited the offices of the Uxbridge and West Drayton Gazette to deliver an update on his progress thus far:

‘To walk 60,000 miles in all climes, and in all weathers, is by no manner of means an enviable task, but this is being done by Mark All, a septuagenarian mechanic, who has already covered over 30,000. The “Daily Graphic,” “Daily Mirror,” and “Sporting Life” [all three, Harmsworth publications, I think] made an offer that if he completed 60,000 miles in seven years, they would raise the sum of £500 for his benefit, and this offer Mark means to win. The “Daily Chronicle,” 12 months ago, exploited the, to many, inhuman theory that a working man is “too old at 40,” and it was to show the uncertainty of this statement, and as a practical protest against it, that Mark commenced his second walk of 30,000. He hopes to complete the 60,000 miles in December 1907. It is his usual custom to call at newspaper offices on his walk and report himself to the public through the medium of the Press, and, in accordance with this custom, he called in at the offices of this journal on Monday last week, having walked from Oxford that day in damp, muggy weather. Mark is of respectable appearance: his actual age is 77. Tall, grey haired, and with the ruddy glow of health upon his cheeks, Mark at once set to work in a cheery way to tell of his experiences and produced indisputable proofs of his statements, so that if one had any doubts as to the correctness of his self-imposed task, they were quickly set at rest. He started his great walk on August 6th, 1900, from Fleet Street, and is scheduled to finish in December, 1907, and he is now well ahead of the scheduled time. He has lately worked his passage to Boulogne, tram to Switzerland, and then on through Holland, and Belgium. He then retraced his steps and got into Spain, thence to Portugal, and, taking ship at Oporto, worked his passage back to Hull. From that port he walked on to Scotland and is now on his way front Holyhead to London.

“And where are you making for next?” we asked. “For Russia. I have not been able to go yet owing to the war, but I am hoping to make arrangements now that is over, and, if I succeed, I shall make right across the country to Siberia.”

This was said in such a casual way that it made one smile. Mark thinks no more of walking 40 miles than an Uxbridge man would think of walking four.

“You have had some rough experiences at times,” we remarked, after reading a newspaper cutting, which told that Mark, like the traveller of old who came from Jerusalem to Jericho, fell among thieves, who stripped him of his clothing and left him half dead in the road.

“Yes,” he replied, I have had some rough times, and had I known what I should have had to go through, l should not have taken on the other 3,000 miles. I have gone for days without food, but I have never yet seen the inside of a workhouse, and I never intend to until I am carried there.”

Mark is forbidden under the conditions governing the walk to solicit for alms, and he never does, but he is not debarred from accepting voluntary contributions to help him on his way, and there is one incident which Mark records with pardonable pride, and his eyes lighted up as he told the story. He was one day in the neighbourhood of Newmarket and was met by a party of gentlemen in a motor car, evidently having come from the races. Seeing his badge, and conditions of the walk, they stopped, and one of them asked him if he were the old man who was trying to walk 60,000 miles in seven years, and he said he was, and one of the party, to whom the others showed great deference, said: “Brave old veteran.” He told Mark to be sure to communicate with him when he had completed his task. “I will, your Majesty,” replied Mark, who had recognised the King. It is needless to say that Mark came away from that interview a richer and a happier man. He has walked 45,392 miles, and still has 14,608 to do. He wants to finish before December, 1907, if possible, but he has some bad country to do. He is the only walker recognised by the King.

“How did you get on in Germany,” was the next question put. “When I was in Germany,” he replied, I obtained employment for a short time at Bremen. They treated me very well there but didn’t forget when they found that I was an Englishman to chaff me about my country. Germany, they told me, was going ahead, and we should never recover the trade they had taken from us.”

“And did your own observations of German workmen tend to confirm that modest statement?”

Mark smiled. “Well, no, it didn’t,” he said. “Labour is cheap there. A first-class mechanic does not get more than 30s. per week; but the work is very inferior; I call it slop-work. Old as I am, I should not be afraid to back myself against the best man I saw out there.”

And by the way he said this one could not doubt the sincerity of it. “And France?” “Oh very well indeed; better, in fact, than I do in England, in spite of the difficulty in not knowing the language. I do not quite like the Swiss. They seem to me to be a very clannish sort of people.”

Mark’s luggage consists of a black handbag, which holds his tools and a few articles of clothing. The total weight is 28lbs. He has a book full of newspaper cuttings, recording his walk, and the names of the newspaper offices he has called at; also, a number of sketches. “I’m a rare draughtsman,” said the old man with a smile, as he carefully adjusted his spectacles, and produced pen and ink sketches, showing himself seated in a boat on the sea, with the inscription: ‘Mark All, on the Sea of Life.’

“I do this on the road,” he continued. “There’s my little ink bottle and pen. I make my diary up day by day, and I hope to have these sketches and remarks published in book form when I have completed my walk.”

“And it will prove interesting reading,” we ventured to remark.

“Well, yes: I’ve had a good deal of experience, and can use my tools now, old as I am. I’ve encountered much rough weather and gone days without food. It’s the wet weather that tries me most.” Mark has the satisfaction of knowing that, by walking 45,000 miles in five years, he has accomplished a feat which is absolutely unique, as the previous best performance was that of a German, and Mark records with pride the fact that he is the Englishman to whom it has been given to lower the Teutonic record.

From Uxbridge Mark All proceeded to Hammersmith, where he has friends.’

Where is that book of cuttings, those pen and ink sketches and diary now? Maybe, if they survived, they may still lie buried in an archive. What a prize they would be if they popped up on Ebay!

Mark All met the King more than once during his peregrinations. Eight months later, in mid-June 1906, when passing through St Albans (“for the seventh time”) ,he told the ‘Herts Advertiser’ that “[in] March of this year, when he was passing through Sandringham. “His Majesty sent one of his equerries to tell me he would like to speak to me,’’ said Mark All, and when I went, his Majesty said, “Well, you are still driving your pair of shanks, Mark?” I didn’t quite know what he meant, so I replied, “I am still endeavouring to complete my journey, your Majesty.” He said, “You haven’t much more to do now?” and I said, “A matter of 11,000 miles, your Majesty and he added “You will soon do that; that is nothing.” He told me if I lived to cover the 60,000 miles I was to be sure and communicate with him, and so I shall. His Majesty showed his interest in my attempt giving me five sovereigns and a good lunch.”

God bless Dirty Bertie! A square meal was a rare treat to Mark All as the same article goes on to describe:

‘Mark’s eyes glistened as he told of the good things placed before him; food enough for fifty people, served to him by waiters with powdered hair; and contrasted this with some of the sparse meals of which has had to partake by the wayside. His living is most precarious, and he asserted that often he would go without food for two three days for lack of funds. Producing a penny from his pocket when in the Herts Advertiser Office, he said, am pretty well on the rocks now; this is my last penny.”  What steps you taken for procuring food when funds run out?” asked our representative?” “Then,” said Mark, “I go without. If have a copper or two I purchase raisins. I have often gone two hundred miles with a raisin in my mouth. Beer is no good, and I never drink water. I am not up to concert pitch to-day. though,” he added somewhat ruefully, for I celebrated my 78th birthday yesterday when passing through London, and I met friends there who would have me take drink or two, and it doesn’t do”.

Another gift of money came to him, we learn, through the beneficence of Joseph Chamberlain ‘the apostle of Tariff Reform’ who whilst speaking at Bedford during the general election earlier that year had started a subscription list among friends at his hotel, ‘and in the course of a few minutes had raised the substantial sum of £11 to help him on his way.’

“At what rate do you reckon to walk? was the next query put to Mark, who replied: “I can go six miles an hour, but don’t make it practice. Four-and-a-half or five miles is my rate.”

“Don’t you find the strain tolling upon you?” “No, I have had good health all the time; but I have been in considerable peril at times by strange characters. I have been robbed and stoned and left naked upon the wayside. I was treated worst in Germany, where I was stabbed. I think they were hostile to me there because I had beaten the previous record 40,000 miles walked by a German in five years. I have now beaten that record by about 11,750 miles.”

Interrogated as his plans for completion his task, the veteran pedestrian stated that he intended going from St. Albans on Tuesday to Luton and Bedford, on towards Liverpool, where he hopes to obtain passport enabling him to tramp through Russia and Siberia, returning to England by way of Ostend, completing his journeyings in London.

There was no doubt about his hopefulness in regard to the completion his task. “Given good health,” he said, cheerily, “I shall do 60,000 miles considerably under seven years. I am looking forward finishing in February next year.”

“How do you manage for boots?” asked our representative. “So far.” replied Mark, “I have worn out seven pairs, and these I have now are just beginning to go. I have to save up in order replace them.” [PS in the following September, when he was interviewed in the West Country, this tally had climbed to ‘42 pairs of boots … 32 shirts, seven suits of clothes and innumerable socks’!]

“Who mends your clothes?” “I do that myself. Here are needles and cotton, and here is my bag of buttons, and here,” said he, producing neatly-packed parcel from his overcoat pocket, are my soap and towel and brush.”

The series of small memorandum books, in which cuttings from newspapers all over the country referring to his travels, with numerous quotations and marginal notes, are kept by Mark All with great care, the volumes being arranged in chronological order and placed in cloth wallet. Observing that entries were made in ink, our representative inquired where the writing was usually done, and received the reply that it was, as a rule, accomplished at the roadside during a halt, Mark All, while speaking, producing from his waistcoat pocket a bottle of ink, and displaying pen which he carries in his tin spectacle case.

“…My handbag, in which I used to carry my belongings, wore out, so that I have now store away my things in my pockets.”

Undismayed by his precarious fortune, Mark All bade us cheery good-bye and passed on his way.’

His dog [a brindle called, “Business”, as I have recently discovered] has died after accompanying him for 21,000 miles, now his bag has worn out! But Mark All was a man of courage and of staying power, having once set himself to a task he did not give it up. He meant to endure to the end of the journey! He was also blessed with a cheerful spirit. His fortitude must have been immense in order to confront the dangers he met with along the way: lost in snowdrifts several times, stoned in Germany, stabbed in Italy, struck by lightning near Marseilles, beaten, robbed, stripped naked and left for dead on Shap Fell. On the road from Belfast to Cork, he was forced to remove the Union Jack from his sleeve after the locals threatened to “do for him.” Just outside Bath he was met by two other tramps who threatened violence with a cut-throat razor, but they backed down when he ‘reminded them with a tap from a loaded stick [Harmsworth’s ‘stout walking stick’?]  that he was not without arms.’ When asked about these experiences on one occasion, he replied “I believe there is no other man living who could have lived through the hardships I have endured. It is a mystery to me that I am alive.”

We can empathise then, with these otherwise mawkish lines he committed to his one of his notebooks and which were recited by him to the representative of the Wicklow Newsletter and County Advertiser in July 1906.

Across the foam far, far from home

The wanderer may steer;

But memory will never roam

From all he holds most dear.

A father’s and a mother’s love

Blooms when all else decays;

How prized and treasur’d are the hours

Of childhood’s happy days.

Mark All arrived in London in the first week of December 1906, having completed 58,888 miles of his attempt, but didn’t linger there long. By the end of the month he is reported to have been in Bristol. On the 8^th of January 1907, he was in Hanley, Staffordshire (59.154 miles) where in the course of an interview he told how he had “spent Christmas Day on a heap of stones covered with snow on the roadside between Warminster and Bath. I had no food the whole day long, and as night approached, I had no shelter, and was so obliged to sleep in the snow.” But notwithstanding all his bitter experiences, the interview concluded, he had not allowed despair to overcome him.

On the 14^th January he is reported to have been in Derby (59,225 miles) with ‘yet seven months before the completion of the time allotted to him tor his task.’ On the evening of the 22^nd, he arrived at Bedford (59,451 miles), setting off again the following Monday heading for Barnett. Whilst there he told the papers that when he completed his task he stood to ‘win’ £1000; £500 from ‘the papers’ and £500 from a ‘number of certain gentlemen.’

The Nottingham Evening Post for 4^th February reported (among other things) that The Grand Duchess Cyril of had given birth to daughter. Mr. Justice Ridley, at the Essex Assizes described the creed of the Peculiar People “horrible and ghastly” one. [That] although scarcely safe many are venturing on ice. [That] The Marquis of Salisbury will offer for sale 241 fine old Hatfield oaks at St. Valentine’s Day. [That] The Dominion Line has placed an order with Harland, Wolff, Belfast for a 14,000 tons twin  screw steamer, for service between Liverpool and Canadian ports …

… AND finally, that Mr. Mark All, who is 79 … is expected to complete at Hyde Park Corner, on Sunday next, his walk of 60,000 miles, undertaken to demonstrate the fallacy the “too old by forty” theory.

Mark All duly completed his marathon walk on 14^th February 1907, though I can find no particular report of this in the newspapers other than some published shortly afterwards in which he said to be looking forward to his interview with his old friend the King.

So, Mark All has passed ‘Go’, but the question is: did he ‘collect his £200’ – or was it £500, or even £1000?? And did he then hang up his boots? Not likely! Watch out for the next instalment in the long-walking saga of Mark All, “Ped”.

Having paused for thought and consideration, and having taken the advice of my learned friends and colleagues in GHS, let’s review the story so far …

In August 1900, this old chap, Mark All, an out of work engineer, down on his uppers, took up a wager (with all sorts of strings attached) with Alfred Harmsworth that he could not walk 300,000 miles in 21 years. (Or so he said) – because when we (we’re on this case together, you understand) scratch the surface of this claim, it soon becomes apparent that both the duration of the challenge and the amount of the prize differs as time goes on. This leads me to be curious as to the actual facts of the matter.

Eventually, I suppose, I would like to get to the bottom of his claim, but not at the cost of spoiling what is a fantastic – in the true sense – tale. And anyway, ‘eventually’ – presently – is a long way off. Hopefully not the twenty-five years Mark All tramped from place to place, but we surely have sufficient time to emerge ourselves in his contemplation just now. How to go about this? Which is our best foot forward? What are the broad parameters? First, I think, and this will be the task for today, we need to find out something more about the man himself. What we need first of all is an identikit picture. So, back to the British Library I will go.

Here’s where we left off: at 10.00am on Tuesday 29 May 1906 Mark All had presented himself at the office of the SUSSEX EXPRESS, SURREY STANDARD & KENT MAIL in Lewes. Visits like this to the local newspaper were obviously part his modus operandi. They served not just to make a mark on the calendar as to the time and place of his whereabouts, but also, crucially, in exchange for a story that would make for a few interesting column inches, the journalists would pass the hat round and present the proceeds to the old man to send him on his way. Totally level and above board, therefore, according to the rules of the wager’s engagement. Incidentally, remember, at this date the ‘distance /duration’ ratio was “60,000 miles in seven years”. Here’s part of what the paper printed the following Saturday (2 June 1906). It gives us clue as to his character as well as his original motive:

“The old man’s story is decidedly interesting. He was born at Greenwich, and apprenticed at some engineering works that town, and worked at his trade regularly for many years, but after the Employer’s Liability Act [1880] was passed he found it difficult to earn a living, as masters were not at all keen having men who were getting on in years to work for them. Rather than go on the parish All, despite his seventy odd years, set out find work of some sort or another, and it was while was tramping from place to place that it occurred to him try and establish world’s record in walking, and prove the absurdity of the argument that a man is “done for” so far physical energy concerned. “It was not begging tour that I undertook. I made up my mind to work, and, as far possible, support myself and do what good I could others. In the course of my travels I have worked on various jobs, and what help I have received has been the free gifts of people who have met me on the road.”

Whilst there’s no specific mention of Harmsworth, the journalist was told that:

“It appears that some gentlemen who are interested in All’s great effort have promised him a substantial reward should he achieve the object has in view, and the aged pedestrian is hoping that by this time next year will be the happy possessor of £5OO or more.”

“Great effort”. Certainly, if you care to look up ‘Pedestrianism’, you’ll see there is a long tradition of the ‘sport’, and quite a few contenders, including Blackheath’s very own George Wilson back in the early nineteenth century See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Wilson_(racewalker) And they were matched by an equal number of (usually languid aristocratic) backers. But few, if any, went to the lengths of Mark All.

The same article goes on to tell that Mark All averaged 45 miles a day; that presently he was on his seventh circuit of the British Isles and that he had tramped through Europe too.  It relates some of the adventures (and misadventures) he met with along the way. These few facts are corroborated in articles elsewhere along his way. Did Mark All, I wonder, have a route in mind, or was his destination wheresoever the road led him?

In the St Albans, where Mark All gave an interview in mid-January 1906, he expands on this question among matters. Described as an ‘old fellow … wearing a somewhat weather-beaten appearance, but nevertheless looking wonderfully sturdy and in good spirits’, the journalist questioned him as to how far he had walked up to the present, and Mark All, ‘after referring to a diary which he keeps with commendable method, said he had walked up to Wednesday morning 40,7410 miles, leaving him 12,590 miles to traverse to complete his task: “With this object in view,” continued Mark All, I am going to Dunstable and Northampton; then I shall make my way right up to John O’Groats, and then perhaps journey right through Ireland, North and South Wales and then back to London … Asked if there were any wager at stake, Mark All said that if he completed the journey he would get £500 from certain London sporting papers, who had also helped him when he completed 30,000 miles.’

In the same interview he told the journalist he that his specific motivation had been the engineers’ strike in London of 1897-98. There’s an excellent account given of it here by John Grigg, Brentford & Chiswick Local History Society:

The 1897 Engineers’ Strike in Chiswick

“The employers”, he said, gave the men clearly to understand that they considered them unfit for work after 45 years of age.” His idea was to prove this idea a fallacy. Starting from Fleet Street, London, on August 6^th, 1904, he said “I was 72 years and two months old when I started, having been born on June 11^th, 1828 at Greenwich. I am an engineer by trade, and served my apprenticeship at Greenwich, working afterwards for thirty years for a firm in Westminster Bridge Road. At the time of the engineers strike in 1897-8, I was working for Messrs Thorneycroft at Chiswick.”

A few months later, at the end of December 1906, Mark All was in Bristol where we are given this rough sketch of him:

“An elderly gentleman, wearing a Union Jack, triangle shape, on the sleeve of his left arm and a medallion of a brindle dog suspended round his neck … whose bones rest in France, after his long trot of several thousand miles at the heels of Mark All, his master”.

At least, therefore, the remark we find in the entry-book of Carrington House, the single-men’s hostel in Brookmills Road, Deptford where Mark All bedded down at end of play one August day in 1909 was not always true. No doubt, it was made for good administrative reasons, but still I find it shocking to read on the page these three words: “No friends known”.

How Mark All’s original challenge was carried on and carried out – how it transmuted into another, longer challenge, (and perhaps another) is a story for another day …

Evenin’ all.