Clan Robson (Teviotdale)

A webpage being developed with the intention of setting up a website devoted to exploring the family history of the Teviotdale Robsons. Contributions from Robson Clan members welcome.

Excerpt about the Robsons from Some Denholm Families by Mark N. Robson (published locally in 1928)


The monument in Denholm to the 18th century scholar John Leyden. On the right is Leyden's cottage.

If any of the clan Turnbull happens to think severely of me, inasmuch as I portrayed that Rulewater tribe as a very turbulent and lawless crowd, I am going, as it were, to make amends; for before I write about Robsons in Denholm I wish to say something about their forebears in Northumberland; and I shall show that they were as bad as the Turnbulls, if not worse!

They were a very numerous clan, and their particular habitat was also the valley of the North Tyne, and also Reedwater. The four principal families in these valleys were Charltons, Dodds, Millburns and Robsons. To this day the name of Robson prevails in certain districts, and is very common in and around Newcastle.


Denholm Kirk

May I intrude an anecdote with a personal reference? During the earlier part of the War a young soldier from Cumnock who was home on leave from Newcastle met my daughter, and the following conversation took place.

"Oh! Mary I know your father's secret now. I found it out lately."

"My father's secret? I never knew he had one!"

"Oh, yes! he has. For one day when we were marching outside of Newcastle we came in sight of a public house and over the door was the sign and 'Mark Robson, licensed victualler.'

Well, all I can say, and I say it ungrammatically, is "It was na' me."

Another quote to show that one's name has, of course duplicates. When I went to County Durham in 1882 to minister to a church there I called at a local stationer's to procure a rubber stamp with my name. The shopman showed me a sheet of samples, and the very first name was "Mark N. Robson - Terrace, Sunderland!" I recall that the Rev. Mr Campbell, minister of the English Presbyterian Church at Falstone (a district I know well), told me that in the early days of his ministry if he met a man he did not know he might risk calling him "Robson", and be right five times out of six.


Falstone Church

Now, so far as I can discover, the Robson clan first emerges into history in the region of Falstone. In the Black Gate Museum at Newcastle, there is a fragment of a cross which was discovered at Falstone a good many years ago. It is a very unique cross. The same inscription is written on both sides of the stone, only, one inscription is in Roman letters and the other is Runic lettering, and what is defaced on one side is legible on the other. The exact meaning of the words in Anglo-Saxon is somewhat differently rendered by different authorities, but this may be taken as its meaning:

"Eomar set up this . . . a memorial to Hroethbert his uncle. Pray for his soul."


These are Robson family gravestones in Falstone cemetery. Click on any of the thumbnails to go to a full-page version.

Dr Charlton, a competent authority, says that that is the "Robert," from whom the clan Robson or Robertson takes its name. And what sort of fellows were they? When I resided in Hawick (1898-1903) I spent some time hunting up in State Records the story of my clan, and I found it a sad record as judged by the standards of these quiet and law-abiding days. Murder, and theft, and big raids on the Scots or their neighbours were quite common occurrences; and all the English sovereigns could do by their representatives was of little avail. Here is Thomas Robson breaking into Ralph Bond's house at dead of night. Ralph had his sword handy, and in the dark they fought and Thomas came off worst. Then William Robson killed the miller's daughter and fled. But he was caught and at Bellingham his head and shoulders parted company; and because certain townships did not send representatives to see justice done they were merced.

Punishment for captured reivers was harsh

Excommunication by the Church was as little effective as the King's order. When excommunicated they got parsons of their own who were very like themselves.

These things were away far back, and it was not until considerably after the Union in 1603, that the Borders on both sides became quiet, and peaceable, and safe for decent men to live in. For a long time the "merchant-adventurers" would not take anyone from the Reed or the Tyne into their service - so fierce and theftuous were they. But then, theft was no sin.

In an old play, printed in London, in 1654, a mendicant Borderer is introduced, who asks alms of a citizen's wife. To her questioning he replies, 'Saving your honour, good mistress, I was born in Redesdale in Northumberland, and come of a good wright-riding surname, called the Robson's-guid, honest men and true, saving a little shitfing for a living. God help them, silly, puir men!"

The citizeness replies, "Methinks thou art a Scot by thy tongue." But the Redesdale man had a poor opinion of the Scots -

"Trow me never mair then, good dame! I had rather be hangit in a withie of a cow's tail, for they (the Scots) are ever fair and fause."

I could write much more about these south-of-the-Cheviots men whose blood runs in my veins, but one anecdote must suffice. The Robsons were at feud with the Grahams of Netherby and Liddesdale. So they made a foray, and drove the Grahams' sheep into Tynedale. Unfortunately, the sheep turned out to be scabbed, and communicated the disease to their flocks about Falstone. Upon this the Robsons made a second raid, took seven of the most substantial Grahams they could lay hands on, and hanged them out-of-hand, with the warning to others that "the neist tyme gentlemen cam to take their schepe they war no to be scabbit." Need I say more?


The soldier is George Robson (1902-1994), the grandfather of the author of this website. The couple are the author's great-great-grandparents Thomas Robson and his wife Grace (nee Gardiner)

At the foot of the Loanin', where now stands the cottage built by the late Mr Andrew Telfer (an old Falstone friend of mine), there stood, fifty years ago, a thatched cottage with a smiddy attached – also a killing-house – rented by Beattie the butcher. In that thatched cottage the blacksmith – my great-grandfather. Where he came from I cannot tell, but I have heard a story of how, when a Liddesdale minister was examining some school children in Bible knowledge, and had asked who was the strongest man, a child replied "Tam Robson o' The Yett." Thomas Oliver (paper II) once told me that this Robson was an ancestor of mine. Anyhow, away back about 1780-1790) two sons were born to the blacksmith at the foot of the Loanin' – John and Thomas. John was apprenticed to the stocking weaving and learned in Beattie's shop, which was standing, in my boyhood, at the back of George Little's draper's shop. But he was destined for other things for a while. One fine evening Lord Minto (perhaps not "Lord" then) was passing through the village, and on the green the youths were playing. Minto was attracted by the fine face and stalwart form of John Robson, and asked him if he would not like to serve his country in the Navy. The lad said he would, and the blacksmith's son became a sailor. He rose from the ranks, but owing to letting a deserter escape he was reduced. But his character was good. He was stationed awhile at Portsmouth, and there married. When his baby boy was six months old John was sent to India, where he remained six years. He took part in the taking of Algiers under Lord Exmouth in 1812 and was on board the ship that took Napoleon to St Helens. Resuming civilian life he returned to Denholm with his wife and boy. That boy was William Robson known as "Billy Buttons." His nick-name was due to his mother having made him a coat richly ornamented with brass naval buttons. In my childhood, Billy lived up the Doctor"s Pend in a house above the stable. By-and-by he built Rosebank, where John W. Turnbull lives, and the reason for the small windows in part of the building was that that part was a stocking factory, where he wrought with his three sons and an apprentice. Latterly he removed to the Old Ha' (Westgate), and still later to Hawick, where he died full of years. For many years he used to travel in among and beyond the Cheviots with his woollens, and years after, when I used to preached much in Northumberland, I was often asked if I was any relation of "Stocking Wullie." He married a Janet Cairns of Hawick Muir, and he had three sons and a daughter, whom I particularise. (1) John, who was both a a stockingmaker and hewer, like some other Denholm men, For thirteen years he was precentor in the Free Kirk. He went ultimately to Hawick and was for some time a Councillor, and he was also a leader in Home Mission and temperance work. (2) William, also a stocking-maker, likewise precentor in the old chapel and at Bedrule. He married a daughter of McNeill, schoolmaster of Bedrule. His grandson – the fourth "Billy" W whom I have known – is a teacher in Cumnock Academy. William now resides in Leitholm, and though nearing eighty is a remarkably vigorous man. He is a noted antiquary, and a man of rare intelligence. (3) James, also in early days a stockingmaker, latterly a teacher and private tutor. He wrote "Border Churchyards" and "Border Battles and Battlefields," on which matters he was an authority. He died in Hawick some years ago. (4) Beatrice married the late Bailie Kennedy, of Hawick, and is also deceased.

Now let me go back to the two boys again born in the old cottage. John we have heard about – the other was Thomas. He was my grandfather. He married in 1811 Bell Hardy, from Dargues in Reedwater. Some yearts ago I saw the entry of that marriage in the parish church at Elsdon – a remote hamlet east of Otterburn, Thomas had a large family – no less than six daughters and four sons – Thomas, a blacksmith in Hawick; James, a blacksmith in Middlesbrough, but who died at Denholm in my father's house; John, my father, who was as blacksmith in several places but lastly, and for long in Denholm; and William, also a blacksmith, and who knew every rabbit-hole near the village, and every salmon-redd for miles in the Teviot. My father's smiddy was where the third house from Martin the baker s stands. But in 1864 he removed up the Quarry Road, where he built a smiddy, dwelling-house, and stable. He married, at the age of 17, Mary Newton, my mother, a lass of 20 from Gordon in Berwickshire. So readers will note the real Border blood that runs in my veins – Berwickshire, Roxburghshire and Northumberland.

My mother was a strong-minded woman, and dearly loved the open – a love all her sons had. There were eight sons of the marriage and I was the eighth. One died in childhood, the others of us saw manhood and some old age. I may be forgiven if I particularise them:

Thomas, blacksmith, long precentor in East Bank, a noted angler and authority on local natural history, died in Hawick a few years ago, aged over eighty. (NB. See photograph above.
Alec, a hewer, a great athlete, an authority on coins, died in Australia.
John, a black-smith, also an athlete, died in his prime near Penicuik.
Robert, a hewer and sculptor, self-taught, a familiar figure in Hawick, with his fine long beard, which he wore as a protection from stone dust, died a few years ago.
James, a blacksmith, an authority on antiquities, especially arrow heads, etc, a noted prize-winner at flower shows, died in Denholm a few years ago.
William, a joiner, went to Canada in 1881, died there two years ago, a noted authority on Canadian fossils. His collection is in Ottawa museum.
George, died in childhood.
Mark (the writer)-a teacher in Hawick for over eight years: Congregational minister at Cumnock.

It is worth noting that the seven of us who reached man hood were all tall men-the average being 6 feet 1 and half inch. Alec and I-6 feet 3 inch, William Robson, my father’s brother, married Agnes Miller, sister of the late John Miller, and there was a big family of lads. My father later in life married again and had a family; but now of the all the numerous Robson clan only two are to be found in Denholm-my sister-in-law and her daughter. Changes!

I very dimly remember a tall lank individual who I have reason to believe was connected with the Robson’s. He had but one hand, and was known as “Handless Tam.” He had, notwithstanding his deficiency in hands, a reputation for repairing clocks. Alas! He had another reputation, and he came to an untimely end by being drowned in Weensland Dam, some sixty years ago.

The only other Robsons in Denholm that I recall were

George Robson, who lived in a house, long since demolished, which stood at the school gates; he latterly lived in the old “White Swan,” and wrought as a labourer at the Quarry.
George Robson, who was known as “The Prince”; he wrought on the railway and lived in the Canongate.

Before I close this paper, let me relate how the Robsons and Olivers inter-married.

My brother Robert married Janet Oliver of Appletreehall, who is still alive
My brother James married Janet Oliver of Denholm.
My cousin Robert married another Janet Oliver of Denholm.
My half-cousin John (son of Billy) married Janet Oliver of Cavers.

Good for the Janets!