The Rough Guide to Pottery Pt.7 – The 17th Century (Slipwares & Manganese Glazed)

May 7, 2023May 7, 2023 Tim Campbell-Green14 Comments

What ho wonderful people, what ho!

The pottery guide is back… I know, I know, I can feel your excitement from here!

Well, let’s get straight down to it… no point in beating about the old ‘b’, is there.

Influenced by the first finds from Glossop’s Big Dig (courtesy of my wonderful neighbours, Helen and Sarah), I have devoted this post to the 17th and early 18th century pottery types, and in particular Slipwares.

Two pieces of lovely late 17th or early 18th century pottery – left is a sherd of a Staffordshire Slipware plate or platter, right is a cup in Slip Trailed Ware. And a Victorian marble. Not bad for the first finds of Glossop’s Big Dig!

Ah, slipware… wonderful slipware! I love this stuff. This is the stuff that keeps me feeling warm and fuzzy at night (nobody tell Mrs C-G). And wine, if I’m honest. If only there was some way of combining both… Anyway, I digress. Slipware! We met it’s younger cousin, Industrial Slipware, in a previous episode of the guide (Pt.3, here). However, regular Slipware dates from much earlier (roughly 1630- 1750 say), and whilst there is a similar process involved (essentially slip and pottery), this is very different; simple and less precise, it’s rough and oddly much more human. In a philosophical way, this is what the Arts & Crafts movement, in it’s deliberate rejection of industrialisation and mass production, was trying to get back to. And I think it’s why I like it so much. Bold colours, somewhat messy, and very tactile, it is a celebration of creativity, and is tremendous fun. What I like about this, too, is that whilst it’s of its time, you can see the medieval influence in the pottery, and in a way it looks back to its roots. But it also looks forward, to the Industrial Revolution that would completely and permanantly change Glossop. It straddles both these periods, linking them, Whilst it’s not common, you can find this stuff fairly regularly in the Glossop area – testament to the growing size and importance of the town in the early 18th century.

Slipware is all made using broadly the same techniques, and truthfully, the first two categories Slip Trailed Ware and Staffordshire Slipware are in essence the same type of pottery, made and decorated using the same methods, but with different decorative motifs… you’ll see what I mean.

SLIP TRAILED WARE
DATE: 1650-1740
DESCRIPTION: Yellow or cream decoration on a dark (often reddish, brown, black, sometimes yellow) background.
SHAPES: Table wares only, no cooking or storage – plates, platters, bowls, jugs, cups, tankards.

The process of manufacture is relatively simple. The vessel is shaped on the wheel (although flat shapes – platters and plates, for example – were shaped in a mould), and left to dry. When leather hard (that is not fully dry, but hard enough to maintain the shape), the vessels were covered in a reddish brown slip (that is, a solution of clay and water) and decorated using more slip of a different colour. A glaze is applied over the top, which, when fired, changes the colour to a much darker tone. The slip was poured from a bottle or jug, using a hollow quill as a nib enabling designs to be drawn. The background colours are earthy tones, and are often dark – browns, blacks, and reds are common – although it can be yellow. The decoration is in a contrasting colour (rarely more than one) and is piped on. Often abstract patterns – spirals, lines, circles, wavy lines, and feathers – but also words, names, and dates, as well as sometimes bizarre looking animals or people, the result of the difficulty in getting finer details whilst piping the slip out of what is essentially an icing bag.

The finest of this type were made by a potter called Thomas Toft (d.1698), who made very complex, if by our standards naïve, images.

The work of Thomas Toft. King Charles I hiding in an oak tree.

It’s unlikely we’ll find something like that (and good luck if you do – they are worth an absolute fortune!), and the more commonly encountered examples of this pottery are much simpler, comprising geometric designs, such as wavy lines on the flat rim of bowls, and lines and pellets on cups.

Not all vessels were decorated though, and one often encounters vessels simply slipped and glazed – these are often referred to as ‘Slip-Coated’ in the archaeological literature. The pottery is not particularly hard-wearing, and the slip and glaze is often found to have flaked off.

Where the glaze/slip has flaked off (bottom right), you can see how it was made. The natural clay colour – a sandy buff – is overlaid by the red slip, which turns black when the lead glaze is applied over it.

The fabric is not particularly hard-fired, and is normally pinkish buff, creamy, or pale yellow, with reddish-brown and white inclusions (archaeology talk for ‘bits added to the clay’ in this case, stone and bits of crushed pottery known as grog).

Fabric goodness! The grog is the larger lumps, made from crushed pottery.

Darker buff, grey, and reddish fabrics also exist reflecting the fact that there are several places of manufacture for this type of pottery besides Staffordshire (the potters would use their own local clay sources, so the fabric will be slightly different in each case). Ticknall, Derbyshire; Buckley, North Wales; and Wakefield, West Yorkshire all had large active potteries, and given the location of Glossop in relation to these places, it is likely that any could be a source. We also can’t discount very local pottery manufacture.

Three very different fabrics for the same type of pottery, probably representing three different manufacturing centres.

Shapes are commonly plates and bowls, jugs, salt pigs, and mugs/cups. The plates and bowls are often quite thick by today’s standards – up to 1/2 inch. These normally have a ‘pie crust’ rim, and sometimes clearly visible knife marks where the edges were shaped. Flat shaped vessels (plates, platters, etc.) were only slipped and glazed on the interior, with the base/exterior left clear, or with only a slipped surface.

Conversely the cups are thin walled, with rounded or angular foot rims. The underside and foot of the cups/jugs are not normally slipped or glazed, creating a sort of messy, slap-dash, finish to the whole. The interior can be slipped in the same colour as the background, or sometimes in a yellow.

This is Helen & Sarah’s cup fragment. The scar of the strap handle is centre of the sherd, and top right there is just a tiny bit of yellow decoration visible. You can also see the red slip, and the difference in colour that the glaze makes when laid over it. This is a cup just like that above, and dates to about 1700.

Next up, we have the remarkably similar…

STAFFORDSHIRE SLIP WARE
DATE: 1650-1740
DESCRIPTION: Black or dark brown decoration on a yellow background, often feathered.
SHAPES: Table wares only, no cooking or storage – plates, platters, bowls, jugs, cups, tankards.

By and large, the same as Slip Trailed Ware above. Certainly, the manufacturing methods, fabric types, and shapes, are all the same. However, a distinction (perhaps a false one) is made in terms of decoration. The vessel is slipped in a pale cream, with a red slipped decoration applied (the opposite of Slip Trailed Ware), and the whole is glazed and fired. The glaze contains lead, which darkens the colours when fired, creating the bright yellow and dark brown/black decorative motifs that characterise this ware group.

In terms of decoration, we find broad stripes splashed across plates and bowls, and again lines and pellets, especially on cups.

The most common, though, is the ‘feathered’ decoration that really is quite eye-catching / eye-watering / migraine inducing (delete as appropriate). This characteristic decoration was achieved by dragging a comb or some other implement through the still wet slip, pulling the dark colour through the light, and producing a ‘feathered’ effect.

I love the shape, but not sure about the colour!

The interior of a pair of Staffordshire Slipware cups.

Occasionally, the slips are ‘joggled’, that is swirled together to produce a psychedelic pattern. Sometimes there is an impressed decoration or even words or dates below the slip. A less commonly encountered decoration is the ‘sgraffito’ style, in which the slip is scratched away to reveal the clay underneath, allowing quite detailed drawings to be made.

The shapes are the same as those in Slip Trailed Ware – plates and bowls, jugs, salt pigs, and mugs/cups.

The ‘pie crust’ rim on the sherd on the left is quite a common finish to large flat plates.

The other side of the above sherds, showing the lack of slip and glaze.

From an artistic point of view, I genuinely still don’t know whether I love or hate this stuff, but archaeologically it’s wonderful – instantly recognisable, and drops out of use in the early decades of the 18^th century, giving us a great date.

Next up we have…

MANGANESE GLAZED (aka Manganese Mottled or simply Mottled Ware)
DATE: 1690-1750
DESCRIPTION: A brown mottled and/or streaked glazed surface.
SHAPES: Largely table wares – commonly mugs and tankards, plates, bowls, jugs.

Another relatively commonly encountered ware type. Here, the vessel is shaped – usually on a wheel – and then, instead of an underglaze slip being applied, it has a manganese glaze applied directly to the vessel interior and most of the exterior (with the exception of the underside of bases, and the lower part of the exterior of mugs/cups/tankards). When fired this creates the distinctive brown mottled and/or streaked effect.

Broadly speaking, a darker glaze colour is usually seen as an earlier trait, with later examples tending to be lighter. Although, as is usual with such things, this is an overall tendency rather than an absolute rule, and there is often variation within the surface of a single vessel.

In terms of fabric, it is often the same as the Slip Wares described above – commonly pale buff or pink, with few red or dark brown inclusions – and it seems to have been made in the same potteries. And of course there are variations here, too, reflecting these different manufacturing centres.

In terms of shapes, there is very much a focus on cups, mugs, and tankards, with them being used extensively in taverns of the time. Plates and bowls are less common. Decoration is limited (the glaze itself seems to be the main decorative motif), but includes multiple horizontal rings around the drinking vessels.

This leads us neatly to today’s barely pronounceable word of archaeological jargon – skeuomorph. A skeuomorph is something, made from one substance, but which is made to look like it’s made out of a different substance. In this case a tankard made from clay designed to look like it’s a more traditional one made from wood. Don’t say you don’t learn anything from this website!

A wooden staved tankard recovered from a shipwreck dated 1758. Earlier examples are also known. From this website, here.

This can’t be a coincidence – even the manganese glaze streaks look like wood – and I wonder if it is simply a case of “that’s how tankards are meant to look”.

Wonderful cup, squared foot with bad glazing.

This last photo (and the one above the wooden tankard) are taken from a truly remarkable website – the Chipstone Foundation – who have published, amongst other wonders, the contents of a pit excavated behind the Talbot Hotel in Tetbury, Wiltshire. All the material dates from between 1680 and 1720, giving a 40 year window into pottery use in a public house, and wow… if you like the stuff you see here, you’ll love the rest of the material. Honestly, it really is a hugely important site as it allows us to see what was used when, and how. I keep going back to the website just to gawp at the pottery! Check it out.

It is worth noting that there is a revival of manganese glaze in Victorian period, when it was used extensively on ‘Brown Betty’ teapots, in what was known as a ‘Rockingham glaze’. There shouldn’t be a problem in identifying these, though, as the glaze is not particularly mottled and is much better quality, and the all important fabric is very different, being a refined red in the proper versions, and a white or pale cream in knock-offs.

Finally then, we have this stuff.

MIDLANDS YELLOW WARE (aka Yellow Ware)
DATE: 1630-1720
DESCRIPTION: As the name suggests, a pale to bright yellow surface.
SHAPES: Table wares only, no cooking or storage – plates, platters, bowls, jugs, cups, tankards.

A small and uncommonly encountered ware type, Midland Yellow Ware does crop up from time to time in the Glossop area so I thought I’d include it.

Lovely stuff. Not common, but it’s out there.

Characterised by a dullish pale yellow colour, it is not normally slipped, but instead the lead glaze is applied directly to the vessel, enhancing the pale fabric. The glaze is not particularly good quality – there are usually brown spots (iron oxide reacting with the glaze) visible on the surface, it is roughly applied, and is often crazed with bits flaked off. Decoration is limited to incised lines and sharpish carination on more elegant cups.

Weird light makes it seem more yellow than it it… it’s a lot paler in real life.

The fabric is a pale pinkish buff, not particularly hard-fired, with red and dark brown/black inclusions and lots of voids. But it’s very similar to the Slip Wares described above which may point to a common origin for the pottery.

You can see the lead glaze where it has pooled.

Shape wise, it’s all tableware – serving and consumption – so bowls, plates, jugs, but commonly cups and mugs in the same styles as the Slip Wares described above. Often roughly made, with thin walls and finger marks showing, they have an almost organic feel.

These last two images are taken from the another remarkable website/resource – the Bingham Heritage Trails Association website. They undertook a series of fieldwalking projects in the fields around the village in Nottinghamshire, and published the huge amounts of pottery they found online (follow the above link to explore – the different periods and types of finds are in the menu at the left). It is truly a remarkable resource, filled with photographs, descriptions, and drawings – just the sort of things sherd nerds and associated odd folk love – hugely recommended. Indeed, the whole project is one that I’m like to try and reproduce in Glossop. Ahhh, plans…

Right, that’s all for this time folks. I hope you are all beavering away, eyes down, in the Glossop Big Dig. Early results are looking great, and straight away we have material much earlier than the Victorian that is quite common. Keep looking, and who knows where we might end up – after all, we’re surrounded by 9000 years of history!

Until next time, look after yourselves and each other.

I remain, your humble servant,

TCG

Glossop Big Dig

Glossop’s Big Dig

April 22, 2023April 22, 2023 Tim Campbell-Green1 Comment

What ho you wonderful people, you! But before we go on, some words…

MUDLARKING (verb)

The activity of searching the mud (= soft, wet ground) near rivers trying to find valuable or interesting objects.

POKE (verb)

To push a finger or other pointed object quickly into someone or something (Cambridge Dictionary)

A short one today (a lengthier one is in the pipeline), to announce the big news…. Glossop’s first Big Dig event. As some of you might know, I have been commissioned by Glossop Creates to develop a campaign involving their wonderful ‘Living Room‘ digital community archive (more about this soon). As a resident paired creative type (and Glossop’s premier sherd-botherer) I came up with a plan to get you all involved in what is shaping up to be an exciting project – The Big Dig.

So what is it?

Most of you who read this blog will already know that wherever you walk in Glossop – parks, footpaths, gardens, streams and brooks, allotments, etc. – there are bits of pottery and glass leaping like spring salmon out at you. This is the legacy of the Victorians and others, with them nightsoiling, dumping, or simply being littering oiks. However, what this stuff does is tell a story, as I like to show on the blog – each sherd was once part of a bigger vessel, and usually we can find a date and form for it. But each sherd is also a piece of social history, belonging to a person and a life, and is a part of the heritage of Glossop. And now I want you to all get involved in finding and understanding our shared history. Here’s how:

Well, firstly, don’t worry… it doesn’t involve any digging as such (so put down the shovels, mattocks, pickaxes, hoes, trowels, etc…. you look like a medieval angry mob. And you madam, step away from the JCB). It’s more a mudlark, a gentle poke about if you will (the phrase Glossop’s Gentle Pokeabout just didn’t have the same ‘zing’ as the ‘Big Dig’). I have prepared Big Dig packs that can be picked up from a number of places around the town, and which contain, amongst other objects, a wooden dessert spoon (for poking about) and a plastic zip lock bag (for the finds). So then…

Find a spot to mudlark. Think places like: your back garden, the allotment, a footpath, a hedgerow, an old quarry, a molehill, walking up a hill, walking down a hill, paddling in Glossop Brook, skateboarding at Manor Park. But don’t stray onto private land, and please stay away from protected archaeology – it is very illegal and not at all helpful to dig anywhere near Melandra Roman fort, for example – remember, we’re poking about, not excavating!
Poke about, using your spoon. A very useful tool is a spoon, and I carry one with me for just such occasions. Remember, no digging as such, just moving soil, turning over stones and twigs, shuffling spiders out of the way, poking at bits of pottery, stirring your tea, etc.
Place your finds into the supplied plastic bag – finds might include pottery (very common), stone, glass, wood, beads, bottles, metal, bone, leather, gold, The Holy Grail (less common), the Ark of the Covenant, and possibly Shergar. Importantly, write where you found the material on the outside of the bag. This bit is very important.
Hand the bag back to where you got it, and it’ll find its way to me, and then to the wider world.

The idea is that we’ll look at the material, give it a date and analyse it, and then enter the photographs and details onto the interactive map on the Living Room website here. Essentially, it’s the blog, but made larger, and involving you. You’ll be able to access the map and descriptions, and see the past come alive in the coming weeks and months. Please also enter your thoughts, feeling, stories, experiences, photographs and film about the Big Dig onto the website, too – I want this to be a truly community based experience. Also use the Twitter hashtag #GBD23 to get involved, we want to see your photographs of dirty hands and wonderful pottery bits.

There are, however, some things to be aware of:

Exercise common sense, and be aware of others around you. Be safe, especially around water, and remember pottery, and particularly glass, can have sharp edges.
Respect private property; your neighbour’s garden may have a Roman vase in it, but sadly unless you have their permission, it’s theirs. But you might have something better in yours.
It is especially important to stay away from Scheduled Ancient Monuments – Melandra Roman Fort, for example.

And a final message. If you fall in Glossop Brook, tear your trousers, get the whole family muddy, scratch your hands on blackberry bushes, and end up with half an old plate to show for it… good! That’s exactly what Glossop’s Big Dig is all about.

All joking aside, whilst a lot of this pottery will be fairly mundane, if interesting, Victorian bits and pieces, 17th and 18th century pottery is also quite common in the area, and that has the potential to change what we know about Glossop’s past, and at the very least suggest places for further research. This is the first step in a process that might lead… well, who knows where, but I have big plans. The kits will be available form Glossop Library from Tuesday 25th April (the first 50 bags will have exclusive ‘Glossop’s Big Dig‘ badges in them, courtesy of of the amazing people at Kin.Der). Come down and see us on the day, or pick one up from a number of other places in town. The Big Dig will be running for as long as people want to do it – the process begins immediately, but we will continue to upload material to the website, with periodical updates on the blog.

So then, it is with great honour and pomp that I invite you to become members of that most auspicious, exclusive, and frankly alarming, club – the ‘Sherd Herd‘ (badges and t-shirts forthcoming). And as chief Sherd Nerd, I implore you all to go forth, forage, and find, record where you find it, and get involved.

My thanks to the truly wonderful Glossop Creates for allowing this opportunity – they have some great plans for our town, and want to involve everyone. So let’s do this.

Until the next time, look after yourselves and each other. And go find things – #GBD23

I remain, your humble servant

TCG.

Archaeology · Pottery

A Chance Encounter

April 4, 2023 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

What ho, dear and lovely people, what ho!

Firstly, let me offer my apologies for the distinct lack of activity following my last post two months ago. I try and post at least an article a month, and the intention is there, but sometimes life just stops me. And life in CG Towers has been somewhat tense and trying recently, for one reason or another. Health concerns – both mental and physical – have taken their toll, as has some serious repair/building work. Amidst all this I simply ran out of steam and disengaged from my ‘normal’ life to focus on matters far more important and urgent. Mercifully, the worst has passed, but I am struggling to recapture my previous vim, vigour, and verdigris… if that’s the word I’m fumbling for. So there we are, and here we are, and this post is the first one now that the corner has hopefully been turned. On, ever on… if sometimes a little slowly and shakily.

As I passed through Harehills the other day I felt that familiar tingle, the magnetic impulse that exists ‘twixt sherd and nerd. Glancing here and there my eyes picked out some blue amongst the greys, greens, and browns, and lo! ‘Twas a sherd, a thing of joy, a glimmer of hope, heart, and humour.

Small, dirty, forgotten… but full of promise.

Stooping, I quickly photographed it, aware that a dog walker was slowly backing away from me in that way that people do. And then I picked it up. I love moments like this, and it’s why I do what I do. It’s not just the joy of finding a bit of treasure, a childhood pleasure that has never left me, but to hold in your hand a little piece of the past, a fragment of life long gone, with all the possibilities – that’s the key, and why I became an archaeologist… as if I ever wasn’t. I began to look at the sherd, to analyse and understand it. And then a thought: I’ll take you, gentle reader, on the journey of discovery with me, and we can unlock the secrets of the sherd together. This could be a bit of fun. Of course, “could” and “fun” in that sentence are used with caution, obviously.

The unwashed sherd, still full of promise.

Home it came, unwashed in my jacket pocket – for dramatic effect I resisted the urge to wipe it. What secrets would be revealed I wondered, as I ran it under the tap, and scrubbed it with an old toothbrush I keep for just such a purpose (of medium hardness, for those taking notes). First one side then the other, to expose the surface, and then each of the four edges, so that the important fabric is revealed. An interesting aside – sherds normally break into broadly geometrical shapes of 4 or 5 sides, but rarely more or less. This is one of the ways that you can spot a sherd from a distance, as nature rarely has 4 or 5 sided shapes, not does it often have straight-ish edges.

The cleaned sherd. It’s quite a pretty blue, not the normal cobalt blue of the Willow Pattern.

During the cleaning process, a number of things became apparent. Firstly, it came from a thin-walled vessel, which, coupled with having a diameter of roughly 10cm, suggests it is likely to have been part of a cup. Bigger vessels have thicker walls, and table wares – the pots from which you eat and especially drink (as opposed to preparing, cooking, or serving) tend to be more delicate and have thinner walls.

Secondly, both the exterior and interior surface was rough and dull. This is not how it would have been originally – it should have been smooth and shiny – but is the result of post-depositional activity… in this case, fire. Until the 1920’s, Harehills was used in part as a rubbish dump, and fires were often deliberately set in order to keep the smell down, and rats and flies away. They could start accidentally also, as people would clear out their coal fire which often contained smouldering cinders. Indeed, the 1928 Glossop ‘state of the union’ report tells us that one dump, “about 20ft in depth, had been on fire for many years“. The heat melts and bubbles the surface, causing the tiny holes and pitting you can just make out.

The pinkish staining on the interior is possibly a grease stain, or perhaps also the result of post-depositional activity, with the colour leaching out of some other piece of rubbish?

Looking at the break we can see the fabric, which in this case is a fairly poor quality greyish Bone China.

You can also see the surfaces in section – the thin white line on either edge.

Now, given that the edges shows no sign of being burnt, unlike the surface, it seems that the sherd was broken off a larger piece after the fire damage had been done, suggesting that it has moved around a bit since it was first thrown away. This is also shown by the scratches you can see on the interior; they’re not like those made by a knife on a plate (and how hard do you have to stir a cup of tea to mark the glaze?), but have been made by close proximity to, and movement over, stones.

Moving onto the decoration. Obviously it’s blue and white, but the colour of the blue is odd, and it looks more like a spongeware pattern, with the blurred graininess you associate with the printing process, than the standard cobalt transfer printed whatnot. On balance, I’d say its a somewhat poor quality transfer which has a graininess to it. The image is something floral; I can see leaves, but not those found in the usual willow pattern pottery, but something more naturalistic, and which might suggests a later date for the cup.

The most obvious aspect of decoration is the fluting running vertically up the body of the cup (clearly visible in the fabric photograph above). This was quite a common decorative theme in the late Victorian and early 20th cemtury, with some even running diagonally up the body, spiralling around it.

So, putting it all together, and knowing what we know, we can work out what it might have looked like originally, and a short while later we go from inch long sherd to this…

Not this 100% precisely, but near as dammit. Image nicked from this website here.

So there we go – from muddy sherd to teacup in a few minutes. It’s amazing how much information can be retrieved from just a small fragment. But honestly though, all sherds have a similar story to tell, and each one can give us all the information, we just have to look and listen. Now, your turn! Go for a walk through Harehills, or Manor Park, or indeed anywhere else where there are herds of sherds, pick one up, and see if you can find the story. Let me know how you get on.

Right, that’s all for this time, and I hope you enjoyed it. I’d like to say I’ll make up for my absence by posting lots more soon, but I don’t want to set myself up to fail, and cause more pressure for myself. More is coming, though: I have a much bigger pottery post which is almost done, but I’ll wait a little while before posting it. Also, I have some big news in the pipeline. BIG news, to be honest… so watch this space.

In the meantime look after yourselves and each other. And remember that if someone says they’re “alright”, they might not be. We all need a little help from time to time.

Until next time, I remain,

Your humble servant.

TCG

Archaeology · Oddities · Whitfield

A Song of Sixpence

December 3, 2022December 4, 2022 Tim Campbell-Green1 Comment

What ho! What ho! What ho!

The Christmas season is upon us once more, and my word it seems to have come round again very quickly… in my mind it’s only September! It’s also bloody cold at the moment, and despite the protestations of Mrs C-G, the heating is not going on… honestly woman, just put another jumper on! Anyway, kind and wonderful folk of the blog-reading variety, here’s a little offering to keep you warm.

So, a number of years ago (22 July 2018 according to my records), I found this object on the footpath below Lean Town:

A metallic disc. And no, before you ask, I’m not deformed… I just have chunky and somewhat stubby fingers, Nor is it me holding the disc with my foot/toes either, as someone once ‘*amusingly*‘ commented.

“A coin” I thought, excitedly. And I still think it is. Well, a trade token, perhaps, but it has no discernible features that allow identification; it is completely effaced. A closer look reveals that some of the original surface has survived, revealing the dark green of oxidised bronze – so we know what it was made from. It is very thin, and seems to be relatively poor quality metal, so I err on the side of it being a trade token of some type, rather than a coin.

A close up. The central circular worn patch is the result of wear, and it looks as though the metal has delaminated. You can see the original surface – smooth green patches – above and to the right of the circular wear patch.

Another close up. This side seems more worn, although the original surface is visible in places.

A trade token, incidentally, was a privately minted token used as small change between people, or for a specific retailer or trader. They were common in the 17th century and later when small denomination coins were rare, and often come with the name of the trader, or other information. This one… alas!

Some trade tokens – not mine, but some for sale here.

However, for me, the most interesting thing about it is that it has been bent on the edge, and this wasn’t accidental:

The bend is clearly not accidental, but instead deliberate and thoughtful.

As damage goes, it seems to be very targeted, unlike the rest of the damage which is the result of acidic ground conditions. No, this is a deliberate bend, put there by human intention, and that, dear and gentle readers, neatly leads us into an obsession of mine: the bent coin.

As you might have noticed I have a tendency to be somewhat… focused, shall we say? Yes, I know other words are available, but I was being kind to myself! In my real life, I am honestly a shambles; a veritable clown-car at times, complete with wheels that regularly fall off and an enormous horn (madam, calm yourself please, this is not that sort of website). But by Jove, when it comes to archaeology, I can tell you the what, where, and when with almost surgical precision, complete with spreadsheets, plastic bags, labels, and typologies – with archaeology, then, I am mustard, tickety-boo and, I’d venture, oojah-cum-spiff. The ability to focus on single topics in such a way means that I sometimes fall down rabbit holes (literally, as it happens, as well as figuratively) and become obsessed with certain features, topics, and objects… and so it was here with bent coins.

A number of years ago, whilst sorting the small finds at the Blackden Trust, I came across a coin that had been bent into something of an ‘S’ shape. “Hmmmmm…” thought I, and off I wandered – and wondered… why would a coin be bent like that?

A survey of what little literature there is on the subject revealed that coins bent in this manner are a relatively common find by metal detectorists. Further research revealed a fascinating history of coin bending traditions that begin in the medieval period as an important, if not official, religious function, which later shifts to encompass such concerns as love, luck, and loss.

A silver sixpence of the 1690’s bent into an ‘S’ shape. It must have taken some effort to do. I mean, perhaps not lots, but it’s not the sort of thing you can do accidentally. You can often see teeth marks in the bends, which may answer the question of how it was done.

The first account we have of coins being bent in a deliberate manner comes from the 1160’s or 1170’s. A monk from Durham had injured his testicles in a riding accident (look, I’m not making this up, I promise. And there is absolutely nothing funny about a monk with knackered knackers. Nothing at all. Nope.) Anyway, in pain and desperation, the poor chap bent a coin and dedicated it to St. Cuthbert, asking for the saint’s help, and promising to go on a pilgrimage to the shrine of the saint on Lindisfarne to make an offering of the coin. Once there, the monk made the offering and immediately began to recover. Here, then, we are presented with the essentials of the medieval practice; the idea behind the bending of the coin being one of mutually beneficial exchange designed to strike a deal with the saint. A coin is held aloft and bent in honour of that particular saint, with the hope that they will intercede on your behalf. In return you’ll undertake a pilgrimage and deposit the same coin at the saint’s shrine in order to further promote their glory.

This was a common practice in the medieval period: we hear of a William Child, a constable from Peterborough, bending a coin over his ‘dead’ child in the name of Simon de Montfort and the child miraculously recovered. When, during a storm at sea, a man amongst the crew of a ship bent coin with the words “I vow myself and this penny to my lord St. Wulftan”, the storm passed with the miracle attributed to Wulfstan. A coin bent to St. Wulfstan calmed a woman “in the grip of insanity” when it was tied around her neck, and a coin bent over a still-born child and dedicated to St. Richard of Chichester effected an immediate cure. Following an injury, a certain Alice had a suppurating foot, and her father bent a coin to St. Thomas Cantilupe, afterwards making a pilgrimage to his shrine at Hereford. Ann Plott was run over by a cart in 1485 on the Isle of Sheppey, one of her neighbours bent a coin over her body and she recovered. A certain Katherine Bailey, blind in one eye, was told by a stranger to bend a coin to Henry VI; making a mental promise to do so, she found she could see with both eyes. Somewhat bizarrely, it helped with criminals as well as the innocent; in the early 1290’s, a William Cragh was hanged for arson and 13 counts of homicide. Taken from the gallows, a coin was bent over him, and miraculously he lived, apparently for another 15 years.

A half groat of Henry VII (1485 – 1509). The coin has been bent double at some stage in its life – you can see the crease running top to bottom.

A lot can be made of the symbolism of bending a coin, and even the shape can be open to interpretation. The coin itself may have been seen as a relic of the miracle it brought about, and worn round the neck it may have acted as a talisman. Medieval ‘popular religion’ (i.e. not officially allowed by the Church, but done anyway) and magical practice are interests of mine, but I won’t go into it here (never mind yelling “thank God“. And the person bending a 20p coin asking for help in getting me to stop talking about pottery is, frankly, just being rude). Buy me a drink sometime, though, and I’ll tell you allllllllll about it!

During the reign of Henry VIII, the religious upheaval of the Reformation meant the role of saints within the Church was very much downplayed, and the practice of bending a coin lost it religious meaning. However, coins continued to be bent, only now redefined as tokens of love or remembrance. The meaning is the same – faith, promise, and devotion – but the object of this faith and devotion shifted from a saint to a person, and from the sacred to the secular.

Thus we read of Alice Benden, a protestant martyr, who in 1557 gave her brother a ‘bowed shilling’ as a keepsake on the occasion of her execution. In a letter dated 1790 we read the following: “I have a bent sixpence with a hole through it, which was given by my only brother as a keepsake”. More commonly, though, they were given as love tokens by one, or both, of the partners as a way of promising their faithfulness, and showing their devotion to one another, and references to this activity are found in literature. Indeed, the giving of a coin was a similar gesture to giving an engagement ring, and was often understood to be a statement of betrothal or marriage. In 1715, Lady Bridget Osbourne, eldest daughter of the 2nd Duke of Leeds, gave the Reverend William Williams half a gold coin “which she had almost bent double with her teeth” as a way of announcing her intention to marry him. The ensuing clandestine marriage produced a scandal that was played out in court, with the coin figuring quite prominently within the case. It is interesting that here the protagonists are educated middle and upper class individuals, suggesting that all elements of society understood the gesture.

A silver shilling of George III (1816) that has been bent into an ‘S’ shape. What is interesting about this coin is that it has obviously been kept for a long time – the coin is very worn along the bend. Was it a treasured possession and kept in the pocket?

Bent coins were also considered lucky, and people carried them on their watch chains, or around their necks, and were often referred to as ‘touch pieces’. George Eliot in Silas Marner writes “You’ve got the beauty, you see, and I’ve got the luck, so you must keep me by you for your crooked sixpence; you’ll never get along without me”. They were also used to protect against witchcraft; milk that wouldn’t churn properly had a bent coin dipped in it to reverse the spell that was assumed to be the cause of the problem. We also read about more direct action against alleged witches, animals believed to be the witch in disguise were shot with a bent coin to lift a curse.

As a practice, coin bending seems to have ceased by the early Victorian period, although examples are known from as late as 1860’s. After this period, and into the early 20th century, coins were still used as keepsakes and love tokens, but were inscribed with names, verse, dates, and pictures instead.

It’s quite a story from a little disc of metal I almost overlooked as it lay in the mud. Makes you wonder what else is there… And as you can see I have collected a number of bent coins over the years (actually, quite a number. In fact, I’m not going to lie to you, I have many. Just don’t tell Mrs C-G, she has no idea! Bloody rabbit holes). Some of this blog post was extracted from a dense academic paper I have written on the subject – complete with references and soooo much more information. If anyone is interested, I will happily send you a copy – drop me an email. In fact get in touch anyway, wonderful blog reading folk, even to tell me you want more pottery posts. What’s that? Of course you do!

In other news, I have written a story for the Glossop Winter Story Trail organised by the incredible people of Glossop Creates. The idea is 24 creative types (myself included) have written short stories that are displayed in shop windows dotted all over Glossop town centre – follow the trail to read them all and uncover a hidden poem. Mine, obviously, is the story of a sherd of pottery and can be read in the window of The Bureau on Henry Street, Norfolk Square. You can also listen to it being read here.

Right then, I’m off to clean some pottery in preparation for the next instalment (which may happen before the New Year). In the meantime, have a wonderful Christmas, and as always, take care of yourselves and each other. I remain, Your humble servant.

TCG

Archaeology · Pottery Guide

The Rough Guide to Pottery Pt.5 – Blue and White Bits.

September 15, 2022 Tim Campbell-Green15 Comments

Look, it’s no use yelling “for the love of Jove, not more bloody pottery!” No one is forcing you to be here. Honestly, I haven’t even started yet, and here you are, giving your two penn’orth.

What ho! Wonderful readers. Welcome, welcome, welcome.

A quick one today – Part 5 of my best-selling, most talked about book of the year, Booker Prize shortlisted Guide to Bits of Old Pot. I have a brace of posts almost ready to go, but to keep you going I thought I’d publish this. Enjoy.

TRANSFER PRINTED WARE (aka Willow Pattern, Blue & White)
DATE: 1800 – Now
DESCRIPTION: A cobalt blue pattern or image on a white background. Also, red, brown, black, or green.
SHAPES: Any and all vessel shapes – from delicate tea cups to whacking great soup tureens – literally everything.

Ah yes… Transfer Printed Ware. If you are going to find pottery, this is the stuff you’ll find, and in particular the ‘Willow Pattern’ pottery. It dominated the 19^th century, and arguably a large portion of the 20^th – it is everywhere. I have actually dreaded writing this part of the guide, probably because of the quantity of material, but also I’m worried that it might not appeal to all of you (*sigh, yes I know it doesn’t appeal to you. And look here, there’s no need to use language like that… there are ladies present, and calling me a “honking tallywacker” is hardly becoming of a gentleman.”). But it turns out that it’s exactly the sort of thing appeals to (most of) my readers.

As we have covered previously, 18^th & 19^th century potters were trying to find the perfect blue and white decoration on a perfect white background to match the desirable Porcelain being imported from China. Tin Glazed Pottery (or Delft) certainly filled that gap, but it really wasn’t perfect. An easier form of decoration was wanted, and the idea of transfer printing began to take shape in roughly 1750, being applied to Porcelain only at this point. It was in about 1785 that the process successfully began to be applied to earthernware, being perfected by that wizard of English pottery, Josiah Spode.

A random selection of Blue & White Transfer Printed pottery.

The process is relatively simple if a little convoluted. Firstly, an image was engraved in a copper plate, as was done for book illustrations at the time, and applied to an oiled tissue paper using a cobalt ink – this being the only colour at the time that would survive the firing process. This is the ‘transfer’. Next, a vessel is ‘biscuit’ fired – that is fired without glaze, and at a lower temperature, to make it hard and able to take the transfer print. The transfer paper is then pressed onto the surface of the vessel, with the ink absorbed in the fabric. The pot is then fired a second time to remove oils and fix the ink into the clay body. Next, a glaze is applied, and then it is fired a third and final time. Originally applied to Creamware, then Pearlware, it became a standard decoration for White Ware, and by 1820 TPW was everywhere, and being used for all sorts of images. A brown ink was developed in roughly 1835, a green chrome ink in 1850, and a red ink at about this time, too.

Various coloured Transfer Printed plates. And of varying quality.

Eventually a technique for multi colour printing was developed by the pottery factory F.R. Pratt, allowing full images to be put onto vessels from late 19th century on.

Pratt’s development meant that anything could be printed in any colour. These date to very late Victorian and early 20th Century.

A technique called ‘Flow Blue’ was perfected around 1800, in which the cobalt blue transfer print was deliberately smudged or blurred. The pot is prepared as normal, but during the firing a ‘flow powder’ (a mixture of 22% salt, 40% white lead, 30% calcium carbonate, and 8% borax) was added into the kiln, giving off a chlorine gas which caused the cobalt to diffuse or blur into the glaze.

Flow Blue. For some reason, I just couldn’t take a good photograph of this. I must have spent 20 minutes getting more and more frustrated, taking endless shots of just this scene. To be honest, even looking at it now makes me angry.

Sometimes this changed into a more purple colour, termed ‘Mulberry’, occasionally it was highlighted with gold.

Flow Blue’s popularity peaked around mid-century, and as a style lasted until perhaps 1900. The more extreme blurred examples may have been sold as cheaply as ‘seconds’, and were thus popular with the poorer market. Indeed, for many years I just thought that Flow Blue style was just really badly made TPW, and only fairly recently did I discover that it was deliberate.

In terms of decoration, I don’t know where to begin; from classical scenes to commemorative plates, souvenirs from castles, to children’s rhymes – literally anything and everything was inked onto the vessels. You may get lucky and find a name or a date, or a maker’s mark from the underside of a plate. Or it may just be a pattern from the edge. The classic is of course the ‘Willow Pattern’, with its spurious story of lovers turned into birds. This was, and still is, reproduced in huge numbers: it is everywhere. In fact, so common was this pattern that it is used – incorrectly – as a short hand for all Blue & White pottery.

The actual Willow Pattern – image from Wikipedia.

Theoretically, though, given infinite time and patience, one could identify and date any sherd using the wealth of pattern books that were kept by the factories that made them, but even for a certified sherd nerd such as myself, that way madness lies!

Transfer Printed Ware began life as a prestigious and very exclusive pottery type, with the early stuff being of incredibly high quality. Once it began to be mass produced, as always happens, the quality began slipping, until the lower end of the market was cheaply produced and sold for next to nothing. This produced some shoddy designs and duff workmanship; sometimes you can see where the transfer has slipped, where bits overlie each other or don’t join in the pattern as they should. I do like these mistakes – I think it adds a human touch.

At first glance, quite attractive – bees and flowers, what’s not to love. But look closely – it’s blurred, there are smudges, blobs, lines stop and start, patterns don’t meet. This is budget pottery of the lowest order. I love it!

Allied to Transfer Printed Ware, although not actually transfer printed, is this stuff:

SHELL EDGED WARE (aka Feather Edged/Edge)
DATE: 1780 – 1890
DESCRIPTION: Plain white bowl or plate rim decorated with crinkly ‘feathering’ and painted blue (occasionally green).
SHAPES: Plates, wide rimmed soup bowls, tureens.

This type of decoration is very distinct, and was fairly common in the late 18^th and early-mid 19^th centuries making it a frequent find. Once seen, it never forgotten.

A varied selection of Shell Edged Ware. You can see the blue-tinged Pearlware of some of these sherds, dating them to roughly pre-1830. I also realised I don’t have any green edged sherds.

Essentially a plain white bowl or plate – Creamware, Pearlware, or Whiteware – is decorated on the rim edge with a feathered type decoration in cobalt blue or, less commonly, chrome green. The rim may or may not be undulating, and the feathering may or may not be impressed into the clay, but it is always painted to look feathered or shell-like. I seem to be a magnet for this stuff, but it’s always a welcome find.

Lovely shot. You can see the cobalt blue edge, and impressed decorative ‘feathering’ that here has been filled with the blue tinged glaze that makes up Pearlware. I improved the shot by cropping out my gnarled bare feet that were visible at the bottom of the photo.

Interestingly, there seems to have been a development in the style, allowing a broad date to be given to some sherds. This is based on American data – much of this ware type was exported, and there was some serious work done on dating it – and I’m not sure how applicable it is in England. Chronologically then:

Type 1 (1775-1810)

Asymmetrical scalloped rim, impressed curved lines (not straight), blue/green edging (feathering).

Type 1. I must add that I don’t own the rights to this, or any of the following images, and cannot now recall from where I stole them, shamelessly as always. Apologies if it is your image.

Type 2 (1800-1830’s)

Symmetrical scalloped rim, impressed curved or straight lines, blue/green edging.

3) 1820’s-1830’s

Symmetrical scalloped rim, impressed curved or straight lines, embossed decoration below – garlands, flowers, wheat, feathers, etc. blue/green edging

Type 4 (1840’s – 1860’s)

Unscalloped rim, impressed curved or straight lines, normally blue edging, not green.

5) 1860’s – 1890’s

Scalloped rim, no impressed lines – the paint is applied to make it look like impressing. Blue edging.

As I say, the academic rigour is there, but whether this is a ‘true’ chronology rather than reflecting deposition dates (that is the date which the pottery was manufactured, as opposed to the date ended up in the ground – which, given I still use my grandmother’s stoneware pie dish to cook with, could be as much as 100 years or more), I couldn’t possibly comment. And here we stray into the strange realm of archaeological pottery studies; I could talk it all day, but I fear some of you may become violent, and nothing takes the shine off a chap’s day like an angry mob.

Right, I think that’s all for today. I do have more pottery to publish, but I might save that for another time – I don’t want to over-egg the pudding, so to speak.

More soon, but until then look after yourselves and each other, and I remain.

Your humble servant,

Archaeology · Pottery · Whitfield

A Green-Fingered Garden Grab*

June 22, 2022 Tim Campbell-GreenLeave a comment

*Ok, so I couldn’t think of a better title.

What ho, what ho, what ho!

So, right now, as we hurtle toward the solstice, is my favourite time of the year. Spring into summer – the days are long, my birthday is hoving into view (19th July, if anyone is interested… and a dark fruity red, if anyone is feeling flush). It also means time spent in the garden, planting and preparing the soil. Hamnett Towers is blessed with a small back garden (utterly destroyed by chickens… honestly, it looks like the Western Front), and a slightly larger front garden where the vegetables are planted. Both of these forces of nature – chicken and man – excavate all sorts of goodies. Predictably, I have kept everything I have found, and kept them separate; Hamnett Towers was at one point two separate ‘back-to-back’ terraced houses, so the archaeology of either side might tell a slightly different story (old archaeological habit). And so far, this year has produced some very interesting bits.

So, please join me in the garden. Ah, sorry, no shorts or baseball caps please – this is an English gentleman’s abode; t-shirts I can just about cope with, but I mean, a chap has to have standards dash it!

Here’s the day’s findings from the front garden:

A selection of the history of the land the garden has decided to show us this year… so far.

Let’s start with the nail – a Victorian, hand-made, copper roof nail, to be precise. I’m something of a magnet for these things, and they seem to find me wherever I go. They are truly mundane – the nail that holds on a roof tile – and yet are such lovely and tactile things (I’ve blogged about them before – here – FIVE years ago… blimey!). Copper was used as it is largely resistant to corrosion, and their square section is a dead giveaway of age.

Lovely green verdegris competes with rust (the result of it lying next to something iron based) on the surface.

They are made relatively simply, but by hand. Each nail is cut via a press from a long flattened strip of copper (thus the square body of the nail). It is then placed into a small mold or former, point down, and the exposed top is hammered by hand until it flattens out, forming the nail head. Close-up you can see the two flashing strips formed as the soft copper is driven between the halves of the mold.

A close up of the underside of the nail head, clearly showing the copper flashing.

The nail may have come from my house roof, which is a great thought.

Next to the nail is a sherd of spongeware, probably from a large bowl or shallow dish. I find a lot of this particular vessel in the garden, and I might have to try and reconstruct it sometime (follow the link above, 3rd photograph down, on the right for more of the same bowl).

Next row, a sherd of marmalade/preserve jar (here, for more information), and then two thoroughly uninspiring sherds of white glazed pottery. Then, this beauty!

Super. An amazing chance find whilst whilst putting in some pea and bean plants… half of which were eaten on the first night by what can only be imagined as a biblical plague of famished slugs – honestly, I swear I could hear a very slow moving rumbling sound. If you’ll pardon the French… Bastards!

Wonderful! A small bone button, and almost certainly Victorian in date. Delicate, handmade, and slightly off-centre, it is lovely. Again, something so mundane – every item of clothing would have had a dozen of these; will people be cooing over the zips in our trousers in 100 years? And yet, here we are, admiring it’s beauty. Bone was such a common substance in the pre-20th century, and we tend to shy away from it as a material now – how many of us would brush our teeth with a bone toothbrush? Or use bone game pieces? I think we have become a little squeamish. Yet, it was a major resource in history – so many animals, so much bone. Bone preserves very well in the right conditions, and although this has cracked with age, I bet it could be sewn on and used again.

Right then, the image of the Somme, c.1916, that is the back garden. There’s always something that turns up here, not all of it interesting, but usually worth a look. And this year is no exception, with a couple of very nice finds.

A rather motley looking collection, I must admit.

So then… top left we have bonfire glass. Essentially glass that has been melted in a fire. This may have been accidental, or just the result of rubbish disposal. Often Victorian and later rubbish dumps were set on fire to keep the rat population down, and bonfire glass can be quite pretty. This one… not so much.

It’s quite a cool object, but not particularly pretty.

Ignore the next sherd for the moment, and move onto the cream coloured stoneware sherd, possibly from a flask or other oval shaped vessel. Then we have some glass – it is quite chunky, which indicates it is old, but isn’t that lovely green colour, nor full of bubbles, that would indicate a Victorian date. Probably Early 20th century, and likely from a small bottle – perhaps medicine or similar.

Ignoring the other reddish coloured sherds, again for the moment, we have this beauty:

You can see the striations caused by wiping the red under-glaze slip with a wet rag – the marks of the potter preserved for eternity in clay. Lovely stuff!

This is often called Pancheon Ware, after the large (50cm+) pancheon bowls that were extremely common from the 17th century to the early Victorian period. The correct term should be Post Medieval Redware, but that covers a multitude of pottery types and shapes from c.1550s to the Victorian period, of which this is just one.

Essentially a large mixing bowl, bread proving bowl, or vessel to allow cream to separate from milk. This is a lovely antique example, the image of which was stolen from this website which sold it for £195.

They often occur in huge chunks up to 2cm thick, and are usually glazed only on the interior to make it waterproof. I’ve talked about them before, but this is a nice example, showing the red slip on the surface, and then the dark brown glaze, made by adding iron oxide to a lead glaze, producing the deep shiny colour. The glaze on this, as with many, has been allowed to slop over the side and stop just below the rim, producing a messy natural decoration (the example above shows the glaze stopping on the rim, but you can see the effect they are going for).

Below and right of this sherd there are 4 sherds of standard Victorian to mid 20th century whitewares nothing inspiring, or even particularly worth writing about, although there is a rim of a bone china cup. Below and left is a single fragment of a clay pipe stem. Again, nothing exciting – the hole, or bore, through the middle of the stem is narrow which tells us that it is Victorian in date (broadly, a wide bore = 17th to early 18th century, a narrow bore = late 18th to 19th century). Still, it’s a bit of social history… I just wish I could find a bowl!

Then there was the treasure! Occasionally, certainly not often, I find something made of metal. And a few weeks ago, as those who follow me on twitter will know, I found a metal button.

Tiny, just 1cm in diameter, and very delicate. Amazing it survived, to be honest. And even more amazing it was seen.

Well, no… credit where credit’s due – I didn’t find it, Master Hamnett did, with his six year old eagle eyes. A lovely little 2 eye brass button, probably Victorian in date. It’s probably from a child’s dress, probably something like this:

A heavy linen dress for a child. It is beautifully decorated with hand-made edging.

And if you look closely using a decent magnifying glass, rather than the dodgy macro setting on my phone, you can see the remains of the original cloth that would have covered it:

Amazing that the cloth has been preserved, trapped between the two sides of the button’s lip.

It would have looked like this when new:

Small and delicate, and lovingly sewn on.

The thing I love about this is that the child must have lived and grown up exactly where Master Hamnett is now, and doing many of the same things. There is real sense of connection to the past through a single, small and dirty, seemingly uninspiring object. By the way, the story of the Victorian child’s dress (one of several, I hasten to add) is for another time, but it is from a probable apotropaic cache that was donated to me for safekeeping. One of two I now curate. I really don’t have enough time to write all this up, so if someone want to donate a stack of cash to allow me to write, please feel free!

And now this, the real treasure. Quite literally, for once.

Gnarled is the word. I had no idea what it was when I picked it up.

I know at first glance it looks like something has blown it up, but look beyond that, and it’s a wonderful, if completely knackered, piece Victorian costume jewellery brooch. It’s missing just about everything, including the central glass stone, but would have been very pretty – probably looking something like this:

Picture stolen from this website… the brooch is still there. Honest, guv.

I didn’t know what it was when I picked it up, but it was that greyish green that indicated a copper alloy (brass or bronze, for example), and is something I always pick up. It was only when cleaning it that I noticed the paste stones.

You can see the cut paste stone in it’s setting, and all the other setting missing theirs. There are three stones still on the brooch, and very little else.

Amazing, really. And this was just a small amount of time poking around, getting really close and personal with the soil in my garden. And my garden is not unique by any stretch, not even close. I guarantee, every garden in Glossop – no, the country – will produce some treasure – whether it’s early Victorian annular ware from a house near the station, a broken bottle rim from a former pub, a pipe stem from a current pub, or a piece of Victorian child’s plate from a modern garden in Simmondley (all examples from experience). Obviously, I realise that not everyone is lucky enough to have a garden, but we all can access some green space. As an experiment, this evening, pour yourself a drop of the stuff that cheers, and go and sit on what ever patch of earth is closest to you. This may be your garden, or it might be a park, or someone else’s garden, a playing field, or public footpath, or whatever. Now sit down and take a deep breath, listen to the sounds – birds or traffic – tune in, and simply look around you. If you can, dig about a bit, and don’t be frightened of getting your hands dirty, either. With enough time, something will turn up. And please, mail me the results.

Right, that’s about it I think. Next time more pottery – essentially a part 2 to this post, looking at the pottery I told you to ignore above. A competition! If you can get back to me and tell me what they are, and why they are not our type of thing, before I can post the next article, you can win those bits of pottery. Woohoo! (Now look here, Mr Shouty… some people like pottery, you know. And no, I’m not “having a laugh“).

More very soon, but until then, look after yourselves and each other.

And I remain, your humble servant,

Archaeology · Pottery · Pottery Guide

The Rough Guide to Pottery Pt.3 – Industrial Slipware

May 4, 2022October 8, 2023 Tim Campbell-Green12 Comments

What ho! What ho! And, if I may be so bold… What ho!

Well, as promised, here is the second post in the month of May. At this rate, I might make three posts… but let’s not tempt fate.

And also as promised, it’s a pottery one! Now, I know, I know… pottery is not to everyone’s taste (I say! Look here… calling me a “pottery obsessed hobbledehoy” says more about you than it does me), but it is important. And besides, it’s my blog!

Part 3 of the guide looks at ‘Industrial Slipwares’ – a broad group of commonly encountered Late Georgian and Victorian pottery (roughly 1780 to perhaps the 1850’s, and later). The term Industrial here refers both to the method used to make them – in factories, and often employing machines – but also in order to distinguish them from the earlier handmade 17th and early 18th century ‘Staffordshire’ type slipwares (which I’ll cover in a later post… you lucky folk, you). Originally called ‘Dipped’ wares, the process employed in making them involves dipping the formed clay vessel into a coloured slip – essentially a thin solution of clay suspended in water – and firing it. It is then glazed and fired for a second time to produce a hard-wearing pot. In terms of fabric, it is a fine earthernware with thin walls, in a clean white fabric – originally a Creamware or Pearlware, but later (1830’s onwards) a standard Whiteware.

Fabric. Ahhhhh… fabric. Creamware, Pearlware, and a plain Whiteware.

Originally very fashionable amongst the elite, by the early 19^th Century Slipware begins to lose its social status, until eventually it becomes a utilitarian ware of the commoner, very much associated with pubs and taverns.

I have to say, some of this stuff looks decidedly modern – particularly the stripey stuff – and their bright colours and bold slick designs must have been a welcome antidote to the often drab creams and endless blue and white transfer printed stuff that dominated the period. The emphasis is on natural, earthy, almost pastel-coloured slips – brown, blue, green, orange, yellow, grey, and violet are favoured. I have to say, though, that some of this stuff is a tad on the garish side, and wouldn’t look out of place in a Wild West Bordello. Not that I would know what that would look like. Or indeed have any knowledge of such places. At all. In fact, I don’t know why I said that. Anyway… moving swiftly on.

Ahem… the pottery, then. Broadly speaking, there are 5 types that can be readily identified, although there is some crossover between them, as you’ll see.

Multi-Coloured (aka Variegated) (1780 – 1820)

Patterns of slip are made from multiple colours and smudged (the correct term is Joggled), giving a psychedelic effect that you either love or hate. Common patterns are the Cat’s Eye, Earthworm, Fan, and a nightmare-fuelled, migraine inducing, all-over slip. The crucial identifier is the joggled coloured slip.

An ‘earthworm’ design on a Variegated bowl. You can see how the slip decoration was applied in three colours, and then ‘joggled’ to make the wormlike decoration. These sherds are courtesy of The Blackden Trust, where I work. An amazing place where history and creativity collide… well worth checking out.

2. Mocha (aka Dendritic) (1780 – 1890)

Here, the slip is applied, and a substance – boiled tobacco juice, or urine, for example – was applied whilst still wet. This diffused producing the characteristic treelike (dendritic) decoration in a dark blue or black colour. Commonly associated with banded decoration (Annular, below) and in a brown or cream slip. Popular, but largely of early to mid-19^th century, and less common later in the century.

Two sherds of Mocha or Dendritic pottery. It’s difficult to get an understanding of what the whole looks like, so here is a shamelessly stolen photo from ebay…

You can buy this tankard for a mere snip of £125 here. You can get an idea of how it looks, though.

3. Engine Turned (1790 – 1880)

This looks particularly 20^th century. Here the slip is applied one over another, and the vessel is turned on a lathe, with the upper slip removed by machine, revealing the contrasting colour below. Vertical stripes, horizontal bands, and patterned geometric designs are all common. Painted designs were also applied using a machine, creating complex linear bands. Mainly early 19^th century in date, and particularly associated with Pearlware, so is much less common later.

Sherds of Engine Turned, showing the patterns created by machine – putting the ‘Industrial’ into industrial Slipware.

An excellent example of the complex painted and turned designs found on Engine Turned pottery. Sherd is not mine, alas. It belongs to a friend, Helen D.

Good close-up of a sherd showing where the slip removed to create the pattern.

Another close-up showing the grooves… groovy! Sorry, that was terrible – although I think I got away with it as no one seems to read these captions.

4. Banded (aka Annular) (1780 – 1890’s)

Simple horizontal bands of slip are painted on using a lathe in the manner of Engine Turned above, producing precise clean lines. Commonly contrasting blue and white, but also in browns, yellows, and creams. The banded decoration is also a large part of the decoration of the above three types, particularly Mocha, so there is considerable overlap. Also, the simple basic theme of bands continues into the 21st century, particularly in Cornishware pottery.

A selection of Annular pottery. The stripes were applied using a lathe, rather than by hand, hence their precision and uniform nature. This photo also gives us a sample of the kinds of colours that Industrial Slipware used.

The distinctly modern looking blue striped pottery, a predecessor to the Cornishware type you can still buy.

Date wise, it’s difficult to distinguish. My feeling, based on some evidence, is that prior to about 1840 Banded Ware used the browns, yellows, blues, and greys seen above. After that date however, banded decoration was confined largely to blue banding. Now, this is not absolute; the date is flexible; date of deposition is different to date of manufacture; ‘absence of evidence’ is not a strong argument; and it may even depend on such variables as availability, and even personal taste. But as a rule of thumb, I think it stands.

5. All Over (1780 – 1890’s)

The vessel is slipped, inside and out, in a single colour of the earthy colours common in Industrial Slip Ware, and then fired, producing a surface that is uniform in colour and treatment. Common in the 19^th century, but less so as the century went on.

Lovely stuff! The plain, All Over pottery.

The rim of a delicate tankard or mug. Beautiful colour, fantastic detail – this would have been lovely.

In terms of shapes, Industrial Slip Ware is exclusively a tableware, and very much liquid focused, so elegant mugs & tankards are common, as are jugs, and more rarely bowls.

Right then, armed with this new found knowledge, go forth and find! Honestly, this stuff shows up everywhere, in particular the banded Annular ware (very common in blue and white). Don’t forget to email/tweet/post any examples you find. I’d actually like to start posting finds that other people have found – a community of sherd nerds, if you will! So please, get in touch.

Honestly though, my life of late has been very busy, and increasingly I have started to realise that I am very bad at multi-tasking – meaning I can focus on only one big thing at a time – hence the lack of blog activity. I recently lead a Wan.Der (a curated historical walk, in association with the Glossop Creates mob). I thoroughly enjoyed it (despite the public speaking terror), and it seemed to be successful, which is nice – watch this space for news of others coming up, both more of the same, and new ones, too.

I’ve also started to upload some video onto the Glossop Cabinet YouTube account – there isn’t a huge amount on it at the moment, but more is coming soon. You can check it out here.

Right, that’s all for now. More later… I’m on a roll! But until then, look after yourselves and each other, and as always, I remain,

Your humble servant.

Archaeology · Pottery Guide

The Rough Guide to Pottery Pt.1 – Brown Stoneware & Marmalade Pots

January 14, 2022February 11, 2022 Tim Campbell-Green16 Comments

What ho, Glossop!

Happy new year wonderful folk of the blog reading world. I hope you all had a safe and restful Christmas at the very least. Today’s blog post is the first part of the much talked about Pottery Guide. You lucky people, you.

Over the last few years I have been toying with the idea of putting together a sort of ‘spotter’s guide to bits of old pot‘. I get a few emails a month from people asking “what is this?” or “where can I find out more about the pottery?” (What? What’s that you say? No, I’m not “having a laugh“, thank you very much. And don’t think I can’t hear you making snoring noises, either… honestly). It seems that most people who read this blog also like dipping into brooks, fields, tracks, and gardens, and pulling out bits of old stuff and pondering. Which is great, because that’s precisely what the blog is about. However, there is no simple guide to identifying what it is you have in your hand. Either they’re very dry academic archaeology (and even then, they generally don’t look at Victorian or Georgian pottery – that’s the stuff we normally dig through to get to the good stuff!). Or they are aimed at collectors, and thus look at only whole pots that live in glass cases and are fawned over by incredibly dull people. In 27 years of being an archaeologist, I have never once found a whole pot. And I certainly haven’t seen one rolling down Shelf Brook in Manor Park. I have, however, seen many thousands of bits of pot doing just that. And here’s the rub: the whole pot is ‘nice’ to look at, but sherds are the meat and two veg of archaeology… if that’s the phrase I’m looking for. Anyway, sherds are the lifeblood of archaeology, and from where we can explore the past in a way that is open to everyone and is fun. But in order to do that, we need to know what you have in your hand. My background as an archaeologist is early bronze age Crete… which is about a far from Victorian Glossop as it is possible to get (2,500 miles, 5,500 years, give or take), so I must admit part of the reason for doing this guide is that I too could learn about what it is I am finding. To do this, I read just about everything I can get my hands on, ranging from academic reports… to “a bloke on the internet”. And now, I can pass that info onto you so that before long, you too can be thrilling people with your knowledge of bits of old pot… honestly, I’m quite a hit at parties.

Anyway, Let’s start with some of the most recognisable and common stuff.

MARMALADE JARS

DATE: 1870’s – 1920’s
DESCRIPTION: Grey stoneware with a creamy surface, and characteristic external vertical ribbing.
SHAPES: Well… Jars.

These are such a distinctive type, and are so commonly found, that I thought we’d start here. Commonly known as marmalade jars, but actually any and all preserved fruit were kept in them, with a paper label pasted on the outside, and a horizontal groove running below the rim to take the string that kept the wax paper or cloth lid in place.

The humble marmalade jar. You can see the groove below the rim to hold the string in place. This one I found broken, and glued it back together. It now holds pens and other assorted bits.

A very hard creamy-grey stoneware fabric, solid, but with small voids. A roughly applied clear salt glaze (drips are common) internally and externally, with a slightly orange-peel surface (although often the base isn’t glazed).

The fabric: left is a new break, and is paler. Right shows some staining, but is more creamy anyway. You can see how solid the fabric is, but also the tiny voids created by gas during the firing. You can also make out the external grooves.

The surface up close; you can see the rough glaze – slightly orange peel. Also, you can see tiny flecks of discolouration – it isn’t a uniform colour.

They are exclusively open-ended jars of varying heights and widths, usually c.15cm tall. Beyond the colour and surface, the most recognisable bit of this pottery type are the vertical stripes, which can be very close together – either continuously or broken up by larger grooves – or spaced far apart (see photographs).

Rim sherds from two different jars. Once you recognise them, you’ll start spotting them everywhere.

Sometimes the base is stamped with the preserve maker’s name – commonly the lighthouse and name of WP Hartley – a company still making jam as ‘Hartley’s’.

The lighthouse logo of WP Hartley. You can see how coarse the finish is on the base.

Chronologically, they are late Victorian to Edwardian in date – WP Hartley seems to have designed the distinctive jars in the 1870’s, moved the factory to Aintree in Liverpool in 1886, and opened a second factory in London in 1901, so whether the base stamp mentions Liverpool and London will give a rough date. I have no end date for their use, but it is likely in the 1920’s when most companies switched from stoneware to the cheaper glass bottles and jars. That stated, the jars are very useful (I keep pens in one) and they are very hard-wearing, so it is likely that some were in use long after they stopped being made.

BROWN STONEWARE

DATE: 1700 – 1920’s
DESCRIPTION: Grey fabric with a shiny brown all-over salt glaze, often with rouletted decoration.
SHAPES: Cups, bowls, jugs (Nottingham Stoneware). Storage Jars, colanders, starch pans, stock pots, stew pots, bowls, bread crocks, pans, etc. (Derbyshire Stoneware)

Ah, Brown Stoneware, how… brown you are. Characterised by a shiny brown all-over salt glaze and a light grey stoneware fabric, it is instantly recognizable. Perhaps because it is so distinctive, but also because it is a stoneware and thus virtually indestructible, this stuff appears everywhere. It is also difficult to date with any certainty. However, it can be broken down into two types of different dates (although there is overlap): the Nottingham and Derbyshire Stonewares.

Nottingham Stoneware (c.1700 – c.1800)
A shiny milk chocolate brown surface interior and exterior, caused by the salt glaze with added iron, and often more glassy or creamy than the Derbyshire type.

Nottingham Brown Stoneware. Chocolatey glaze, thin walls, and strap handles; this stuff is very nice.

It usually has a white slip underglaze visible in the break, between the classic grey stoneware fabric and brown surface.

The white-ish underglaze is visible beneath the brown iron-rich salt glaze, and is noticeable against the grey stoneware fabric. The surface also has the orange-peel look that characterises salt glazes.

A view of the grey stoneware fabric, note also the voids and the white underglaze on the exterior wall (right). I really am rather bad at taking photographs… I need to learn how to use my phone’s macro setting better.

It is often found in thin walled vessels – cups and bowls (tablewares). Also, noticeable are wide strap handles, with vertical ribbing and thumb impressions where they were attached to a jug body. Decoration consists of horizontal incised lines done on a lathe, often in multiples, and rarer impressed decorative patterns in between the lines – snakeskin, basketweave, zig-zags – often done with a roulette wheels. Out-turned rims and bases with multiple bands around them are also common.

Nottingham stoneware was popular in the 18th century, but by the end of the 18th century couldn’t compete with the more decorative styles then coming out of Staffordshire, and the style faded away. However, the tradition was continued by potters in Derbyshire, who began to specialise in utilitarian kitchenwares – storage and cookery – rather than tablewares they previously made.

Derbyshire Stoneware (c.1800 – c.1920)
A similar, but often a little darker, shiny brown surface, made by the same iron-rich salt glaze, but a little less glassy or chocolatey.

Wonderful stuff. The iron-rich glaze almost glows.

Again, it glows. The sherd on the left seems to have less iron its saltglaze, and has reverted to the almost classic saltglaze surface – speckled light brown and orange peel texture. I love the interplay of the undulating lines, coarsely rouletted into the body.

Also, whilst the majority of vessels have a brown interior and exterior, some have a cream, white, or olive coloured interior (I have a hunch these are later).

The creamy interior of a later vessel. The glaze is speckled in a similar manner to the marmalade pot above.

The fabric is the same classic grey stoneware, but normally with no white underglaze. Thick walled vessels are the norm, with the emphasis on cooking and storage – utilitarian rather than flashy serving and eating/drinking.

Impressed decoration consists of roughly made rouletted shapes – very small crude stars, circles, crescents, flowers, dots, etc., sometimes horizontal, sometimes in flowing wavy lines.

An interesting advert dating from about 1880 gives a good idea of the kinds of vessels and decoration available at that point and beyond:

I love this. These are some of the various vessels that you’ll encounter… in pieces, of course.

Here endeth today’s lecture. Now go forth and forage, good people! Seek and ye shall find. And please, let me know what you do find – I’d like to do a community thing, where you all send me images of the bits you find and some names, and I’ll put them on the blog. I don’t know why, but my mind keeps going to ‘The Gallery’ on Take Hart…

Anyway, more soon (not just pottery, honestly… I have some interesting stuff in the pipeline), but until then take care of yourselves and each other. And until then, I remain, your humble servant.

Archaeology

Home On The Range

October 21, 2021October 21, 2021 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

What ho, wonderful blog reading folk! I trust the Autumn is going well for you all? And hopefully, now that restrictions have eased, we will be able to do a bit more.

A fascinating one this time – well I think so. There’s a place, if you know where to look… Oh, go on then, I’ll tell you.

At Mossy Lea, to the north west of Shire Hill, there is a Victorian rifle range marked on the map. “Hmm” thought I, “I wonder what is there?” It turns out that it is a thoroughly interesting place, chock full of history. Here it is on the map:

Circled in orange. I meant the circle to be red, but for some reason I clicked the wrong button and couldn’t be fussed re-doing it. I don’t know why I shared that, it’s not like it’s important. To be honest, I’m not sure anyone reads these bits anyway.

But why was it there? Well, following the Crimean War (1853-56), and amid rumblings in Europe, particularly between France and Austria, it became clear Britain needed a larger, more efficient, armed force. In 1859 the decision was taken to boost home defence and operational forces with the creation of the volunteer rifle corps. The forerunner to our Territorial Army, these ‘part-time’ soldiers could be called upon to fight should the need arise.

It was desired that Glossop should have its own corps, and so in this way, on June 14th 1875, 23rd Derbyshire Rifle Volunteers was formed, with the first inspection of the corps taking place July 29th, 1876, at Stockport. They were drilled frequently, just like the regular army, with a parade ground off Shepley Street in Old Glossop, and a drill hall in the market hall – the entrance nearest to the post office.

Here is the Corps pictured in 1914 outside the Drill Hall. Image stolen shamelessly from the Glossop Heritage Page which gives a fantastic history of the Glossop Corps – read it here. Incidentally, the chap bottom row 3rd from left with the flat cap on – I am certain I’ve seen him drinking in the Beehive.

And of course they trained frequently on the rifle range. The original rifle range was at Chunal – probably around what was once The Grouse pub (now a private house). Hamnett notes that it was “most inconvenient” as the men had to shoot over the highway when shooting at long range, which was causing delays. Yes, you read that correctly… now let it sink in a moment.

Shooting. Actual bullets. Over a public road.

So “for the safety of the public it was removed to Mossy Lea“. You don’t say. Shooting here commenced on 6th June 1877, and it is then that we join it. The original line of the range was shooting at targets against Shire Hill, as seen in this 1880 map:

The range as it appeared in 1880. Targets (arrowed in orange) against Shire Hill, with the shooting platforms progressing up the hill in 50 yard increments up to 1000 yards – well over half a mile. A shorter range, up to 300 yards is south east of the first. Marked in green are the flagstaffs that would show a red flag warning that live firing was taking place.

By the time the 1898 map was drawn, the targets had moved to Lightside, with shooting platforms along Shepley Street, here:

The range in 1898. Two targets on the hill, circled in red. The northern is the short range, again up to 300 yards, whilst the southern target is the long range, starting at 780 yards.

However, whichever direction you shot, it seemed to have been hard work, as Hamnett notes “It is a most difficult range… owing to the various strengths of the winds we get all blowing at the same time”. Anyone who has walked along Shepley Street and Doctor’s Gate will know what he is talking about.

So me being me, I decided to have a look around to see what, if anything could be seen on the ground. As it happens, it turns out quite a lot.

Quite an arty shot. The targets are clear against the skyline when viewed from below.

Closer up you can see the metal targets sitting on top of man made platforms – the shooting butts – held by drystone walling. Another arty shot.

Both targets are visible on the ground, and are essentially huge pieces of metal sitting on top of platform. Closer inspection shows it is very interesting.

Close up of the target face showing dents caused by rifle fire.

From behind the target, looking through the dents that have rusted through in the last 150 years of harsh Lightside weather.

Walking around the back of the target, I noticed some writing… ooooh, says I.

Now, with the eye of faith and if you squint after a snifter or three, I can just make out the following words:

“WOODS’ UNIVERSAL – unclear – TARGET. WOODS COCKSEDGE & CO. STOWMARKET. 1876”

Honestly, it does. Have another glass, and look again.

Nice! And it even gives a date, which is unusual in archaeology to say the least. There is a little bit about Woods, Cocksedge & Company here (and no sniggering… honestly! Don’t think I can’t hear you. I’ll have you know this is a serious blog), with more dotted about the internet. They seem to have been a standard iron foundry, founded in 1812 in Stowmarket, Suffolk, and which continues in one form or another until the early 20^th century, perhaps even beyond. Research on the internet produced this advert, stolen as always, shamelessly, from this website.

A great advert, and one that gives us all sorts of additional information, including how to stand in a relaxed manner whilst being shot at by your own men.

The targets in the picture are clearly the same as the ones on the hillside – they have the same attachments, and you can see how they were fitted and braced when in use.

The advert is full of additional details – such as the fact that these were made from hematite iron (rather than wrought iron) (is the missing word on the target “hematite”?), and that Woods, Cocksedge & co. were supplying the government with their targets. I note also that they were supplying “nearly every foreign power”. I’m sure it was comforting for our soldiers to know that, as the bullets pinged around them, the reason that the foreign soldiers trying to kill them were so accurate in their shooting is that they were trained on the same targets as them.

It also states that the targets are “indestructible”, and they seemingly pretty much are – 150 years later, and I’m certain they would withstand modern rifle shot. Probably.

There were also some small finds – unsurprisingly, a number of bullets.

Left to right: Martini-Henry, Lee-Metford, Lee-Metford copper jacket, Lee Enfield.

What is interesting, though, is that these plot the history of British Army issued rifles from 1877 onwards. The militia were originally issued Snider-Enfield rifles, but these were used only on the original Chunal range, so we have no bullets from these. We know that in 1877, they were using the Martini-Henry rifles, and our earliest evidence is, then, on the left, the large lead slug of a Martini-Henry rifle – you’d know about it if one of those hit you. These bullets are interesting from a design point of view – they have a slightly hollow base that expands with the explosion of gunpowder behind it, connects with the grooves inside the rifle which, combined with its solid weight, makes it more accurate and very powerful.

Next, the Lee-Metford copper jacketed .303 round, which the company were issued on 18^th September 1897, and which was responsible for these targets being installed. As Hamnett puts it “the greater velocity of the bullet of the new rifle made the old iron targets unsafe”, and they were replaced by the Woods’ Universal Hematite targets. So we have a date for their installation – sometime after September 1897, and I assume at this point the targets were moved from against Shire Hill to where we find them today. Next to the bullet is the copper jacketing which is formed around the lead bullet – you can see how it has peeled away, and imagine the effect that the peeling and tiny razor sharp fragments would have if you were shot. It’s sometimes easy to forget that these small interesting lumps of metal were designed and made with just one purpose in mind – to create a large hole inside another human being.

Next to that is a standard early 20^th century Lee-Enfield .303 round, and probably owes its occurrence at the range due to live-fire exercises carried out hereabouts in 1943 by a unit of commandoes. Neville Sharpe in Glossop Remembered (p.154) recalls the commandoes showing the local boys how to extract the cordite explosive inside cartridges to make fireworks… with predictable results. I also like the continuation of use, as though the land once used in a particular way somehow lends itself to that particular activity. The area is now home to the Old Glossop Clay Shooting Ground, and the hills once more ring with the sound of gunfire. They claim that the area was in use for shooting from the Second World War onwards, but we now know differently.

The path up to the targets also produced a few pieces of pottery:

Some fairly worn sherds. I’m also trying out a black background to these photographs – what do you think?

From the left, then: An Annular or Banded Ware rim sherd of a smallish jug (the diameter is 8cm, but curves inwardly slightly). Date wise, it’s probably late 19th century, so about the right date; I love this stuff. Two pipe stems, also of a similar date (I like to imagine them being smoked by bored soldiers wending their way up to the targets). And finally, a sherd of Transfer Printed pottery, which could date from anytime after 1840, but is probably the same date as everything else.

Hope you have enjoyed this jaunt down the military history of Glossop – the story of the militia is told in Hamnett’s History of Glossop, a copy of which is in the library, and it highly recommended. The range itself is on public access land, and right by a footpath, so go ahead and have a look (it’s a great place to fly a kite). But please don’t go digging around there – not only is lead highly toxic, without the landowner’s permission it is illegal. Plus, all you’ll find is lumps of twisted metal. The finds I made were lying on the surface.

My thanks for the company of Andy T on this particular jaunt – he’s a good bloke, mostly, and can be found on Twitter @Thorny61.

Please feel free to email me with comments and questions, even to point out that I am wrong about something. Until next time then, look after yourselves and each other.

Until then, I remain.

Your humble servant.

RH.

Archaeology · Pottery · Whitfield

… And Came Back

September 18, 2021 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

What ho! dear readers. I’ve just opened a bottle of fine Belgian pilsner, and am feeling quite effervescent, if that’s the word I’m fumbling for. I think it probably is.

Talking of fumbling, I went back to the place I found the lead came and had a fumble. Madam, please! This is a family blog. Honestly, some people! So there I was, fumbling, looking to see if anything else popped up, when I found what looks like window glass and some early pottery. Hmmmmmmm, let’s take a closer look.

Small and fairly unimpressive – I nearly ignored it. Shame on me!

The glass is only a small fragment – just 2cm x 1cm – and very thin, being a shade over 1mm thick. It is also flat, which just about rules out its origin being a bottle. I terms of colour, it has that blue-green tinge that you associate with early glass, before they managed to perfect the process to remove all the impurities. Looking more closely at it, I noticed that two of the edges were flat, and pulling out my new toy – a usb computer microscope that also takes photographs – I was able to see – and show you – tiny teeth like nibbles that tell me that the glass had been cut and shaped.

I’ve had a lot of fun with the microscope!

Now, I know a lot of useless information – for example that glass is shaped by nibbling – but I’ll admit that even I had to look up how exactly this was done. With a ‘Grozing Iron’ it turns out (see, don’t say you don’t learn something by reading this blog, although I can’t see it coming up in a pub quiz anytime soon). The verb is ‘to groze’, and the above glass fragment has been ‘grozed’. It looks like this:

A grozing Iron, image courtesy of the York Glaziers Trust who have a fantastic illustrated glossary, if you are in any way interested in glass.

So, it was shaped… but to what shape? The two edges, if they were extrapolated, didn’t make a right angle, but instead, a diagonal. A diamond, even. Could it be I have a fragment of the glass that went into the lead came I found? Impossible to say for certain, but it is possible, even probable. In terms of date, it’s very difficult to say. Broadly speaking, the thinner the glass, the earlier it is, and combined with the colour could certainly put it in late 17th or early 18th, which matches the tentative date for the came. So that’s exciting, if you get excited about this sort of thing… and I do! Here it is situ:

I added the came for effect – perhaps reuniting them.

The date of 18th century also matches the date of two sherds of pottery I found with the glass.

They are both mottled manganese ware, and classically early 18th century in date – certainly not later than about 1760. Interestingly, they are not particularly worn, so it’s unlikely that they have been kicking around for 250 years or so – perhaps there is a dump nearby? They are also both open vessels – bowls, probably – and may belong to the same vessel, despite one being glazed on the inside only (quite often, the glaze on the exterior was confined to the top part only). Also, one sherd shows the characteristic manufacturing marks, that also doubled as decoration:

The horizontal lines visible in the clay, formed on the potter’s wheel. Also, if anyone want to donate to the ‘*Robert Hamnett Needs a Manicure*‘ fund, please feel free…

The next photo shows the make up of the sherd – the reddish slipped exterior (top), the rough orange-brown earthernware fabric with tiny bits of stone in it (middle), and the thin dark line of the glazed interior (below). I love this stuff.

I’m going to put together a quick and easy guide to pottery, describing all the different ‘parts’ of a sherd, and some tips on identifying what shape and size, as I think it’s nice to now what it is you are holding. I’m also still putting together my quick and dirty guide to Post-Medieval pottery, as there is a serious gap in the market… probably for obvious reasons!

I’m going to end with a great photograph of the glass, and to pose the following questions: Who was the last person to look through that window before us? And what did they see?

Until next time, take care of yourselves and each other. And I remain.

Your humble servant,