Context 169 - September 2021

C O N T E X T 1 6 9 : S E P T E M B E R 2 0 2 1 15 FROM THE BOTTOM UP end was alright.’ ‘Pity,’ said Dick, ‘is like mustard without the beef.’ The owner began repairs the next day before Dick could get started. In Dick’s opinion the police were too ready to wield their authority over working people. He saw this unwarranted interference as oppressive; what he called ‘policemanism’. He struck the manacles from a man he thought improp- erly imprisoned and helped another escape the policemen attempting to restrain him. For this Dick appeared in court and won the case when the judge ruled that the police had exceeded their powers. He was less successful when he decided to lower the brow of Coggeshall’s only hill because he was distressed to see horses mistreated as they laboured up the slope. His work was stopped half complete on the orders of the surveyor and he was taken to Chelmsford gaol, people cheering him as he went by. He was locked up until a friend paid his bail. What concerns us here is one of Dick’s other passions, preserving ancient rights of way. A local path once crossed the River Blackwater by a footbridge, but this had decayed and fallen into ruin. Agricultural labourers then had a long journey to and from work, and courting couples were also greatly inconvenienced. When after 17 years the authorities had done nothing, Dick decided to build his own bridge and reopen the path.The landowner denied the right of way and sent his lawyer, ‘There’s been a path here since Adam were a lad!’ said Dick, ‘and I can prove it!’ The new footbridge, an elegant arch in wrought iron spanning 30 feet, was constructed in Dick’s smithy in the centre of town.When complete and painted pink (from the smithy’s limited stock of lead white and red oxide primer), the bridge was wheeled on a trolley the mile or so to its pre- pared foundations. A poster was printed inviting ‘All those who have an interest in Preserving the Right of our Public Footpaths’ to a grand opening on 29 August 1892.With the town band playing at its head (‘Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay’ was the favourite) the crowd formed a procession to the new bridge where, after speeches, ‘Nunn’s Bridge’ was officially named and opened. To help recompense Dick, a toll was vol- unteered by the 703 people who crossed the bridge. About £13 was collected, almost half the cost of construction. When Dick died just four years later, the town awarded him a public funeral. Shops were closed and blinds drawn as more than a thousand people followed the town band to the church. Although a gravestone was bought by public subscription, Dick’s real memorial was his iron bridge. Its centenary in 1992 was marked by celebrations and another joyful crowd processed to the bridge, many of them in Victorian dress. In late 2019, after some of the decking timbers had rotted and the bridge temporarily closed for repairs its custodians, Essex Highways, decided to carry out an assessment. As 2020 dawned came the distressing news that Nunn’s Bridge was ‘no longer fit for purpose’ and should be replaced. Coggeshall has an active Facebook group where things of interest to the community are shared. A post about Dick Nunn and the threat Dick Nunn and his bridge