Gallowsclough

March 20, 2019March 20, 2019 Tim Campbell-Green3 Comments

There’s no mistaking some etymologies.

Placenames in the past were given because of what was there, not aspirational or deliberately flowery. They were practical. Descriptive. Truthful. There was no Laurel View if there was no view of laurels. Gnat Hole was not named ironically. And Shittern Clough was… well, you get the picture.

For me, Gallowsclough has always stood out in the map of the area – the clough, or narrow valley, where the gallows were. There is something of the macabre about the name, and I was also aware of a folktale from the area which really made an impression on me (more of that in a bit). So I decided to do some exploring, to see if I could add to the placename, and see if I could work out where the gallows were… as Mrs Hamnett put it “lucky me, you take me to the loveliest places”.

I’ve blogged about this area before (White Stone of Roe Cross), but the area is effectively the Deep Cutting between Mottram and Stalybridge. Gallowsclough is highlighted (the clough itself, or small deep valley, running towards the Dog and Partridge).

Gallows 1b — Gallowsclough and area. This from the 1898 1:2500 OS map (via the awesome oldmaps.co.uk). The main road to Stalybridge from Mottram runs diagonally through the map, with the deep cutting starting at the Wagon and horses.

So then, the gallows.

The last person to be hanged in public was in 1868, after which time, and until capital punishment was abolished in 1965, executions took place within the prison, away from the public eye. But before 1868 it was a public spectacle, to the point that the hangings at Tyburn were turned into a public holiday. Often associated with the public hangings of the 17th and 18th centuries was the punishment of gibbeting, in which the hanged criminal was enclosed in a tight fitting cage or chains, and effectively left to rot. The body was covered in tar in order to protect it against the elements, and hung there as a warning to others until it finally fell to pieces.

Each area, feudal estate, or manor had a gallows/gibbet, and certainly until the later Tudor period or even the early modern period, capital punishment was the responsibility of the lord or equivalent. It seems that the victims were buried underneath, or nearby, the gallows, but certainly not on consecrated ground. To be executed was to be condemned to eternal restlessness, to never know peace, and to wander the Earth an unhappy spirit.

In order to achieve maximum visual impact, the gallows were normally set up at prominent places – central open spaces, or more normally, crossroads. And so it was here, in Roe Cross. The body swinging, both at execution, and in a gibbet, could be seen easily by both locals, and by travellers moving along the various roads – a physical reminder to obey the laws, or suffer the consequence. Interestingly, this tradition of both execution and burial at a crossroads has given rise to the concept that a crossroads is an odd, supernatural, place. If you want to sell your soul to the devil, where do you do it? Where do you bury witches? Or suicides? Or criminals? At the crossroads, that’s where.

So where were the gallows at Gallowsclough? It is very doubtful that they would have placed them further up the clough – difficult to get to, in arable land, and there are no crossroads. No, I think they erected the gallows at the point Gallowsclough – the clough, or deep valley, upon which the gallows are placed – crosses the road. At almost exactly the point seven – count them – seven tracks join. This is no crossroads… this is a crossroads and a half. Here is a map showing the tracks (numbered).

Gallows 1 — The seven tracks shown on the map existed before both the turnpike road and the ‘Deep Cutting’ were made. Walking them, you can see why the turnpike was created. It is still perfectly possible to travel to and from places on these tracks, but perhaps don’t if you don’t have a 4×4.

This is the area close up – you can see the tracks meeting.

Gallows 1 - closeup — Right by the Wagon and Horses… enjoy your pint!

Crossroad Blues — This is the site. You can see the roads meeting, and here at the bottom of Gallowsclough Road, you can see the setts of the original track, laid to give horses some traction at the start of the hill.

The roads are as follows (the numbers are faint in blue in the map above):

Gallowsclough Road – From Saddleworth, via Millbrook (avoiding Stalybridge). This is the Roman Road between Castleshaw Roman fort and Melandra (thanks Paul B.)
From… well, the middle of nowhere – local traffic from farms
From Hollingworth.
From Mottram via the old road.
From Hattersley, via Harrop Edge.
From Newton.
From Stalybridge, via the old road.

A perfect situation for an execution and gibbet. It was said that it was to these gallows that Ralph de Ashton (1421 – 1486) sent the unfortunate tenant farmers who couldn’t pay the fines for allowing Corn Marigold to grow amongst their crops. The death of the hated Ralph is the origin of the Riding the Black Lad custom and the Black Knight Pageant in Ashton Under Lyne, a tradition sadly no longer undertaken. Naturally, the area is said to be haunted, with the locals avoiding the place, even in daytime. Although, as is so often the case, there are no references, only suggestions.

This is the clough

The brook flows under Gallowsclough Farm.

Gallowsclough in the background, behind Gallows Clough Farm. The electricity pylons completely ruin the area, unfortunately.

Of course, whilst I was stomping around, I happened upon a bunch of mole hills…

RC1

Evidence of nightsoiling (as I’m sure you all know, having read previous posts about this). The top row right: a medium bone china plate (c.18cm in diameter), hand painted flowers and abstract floral designs in pastel colours. This is quite nice, and is probably early Victorian in date. Middle is a plain white glazed plate, thin, and again about 18cm in base diameter (you can see the ring of the base in the photo), which makes it perhaps 24cm or more in ‘real’ diameter. Left is more difficult – it has an undulating rim, with a curled decorative motif – which means that I can’t tell you how big it is. Over 25cm in diameter, I suspect. It is a shallow dish, or deep plate, and is deocrated with abstract floral designs. Date wise? Late Victorian? Looks more modern than that, though… Edwardian? The bottom four are fairly boring body sherds, though the sherd on the left is a blurred willow pattern, so potentially quite early?

The ubiquitous lump of coal/coke to the right, and the ubiquitous clay pipe to the left. The lower of the pipes is nice as it still has the spur that juts out and forms the base of the bowl, which you can see just emerging. It’s probably early to mid-Victorian in date. -Check out this wonderful website for more information.

And finally, to end on, this lovely thing.

RC3 — Ding dong, the Mesolithic calling.

A flake of quartzite that has been struck in prehistory, during the course of making a tool. Flint doesn’t occur naturally in this area, so all sorts of stones were used in the making of stone tools in prehistory. Quartz, though a poor cousin of flint, still keeps enough of an edge to be useful, and this piece carries all of the hallmarks of a bit chipped off a larger tool or weapon – the striking platform (top), and the bulb of percussion (facing, half way down). I suspect that this is Mesolithic in date, so c.6000 – 4000 bc, or thereabouts. I’ll post some more flint/chert/quartzite when I get a chance, as it’s fascinating stuff, and the area is not exactly lacking in it.

Interestingly, there is a brewery marked on the map (top left, numbered 8). This is the Matley Spring Brewery, which brewed beer here, using the local spring for water, and presumably selling it in the Dog and Partridge, at the end of the wonderfuly named Blundering Lane. I was going to write a little about it, but came across this site with some information and photographs. Actually, the whole blog is a good read, filled with fascinating titbits relating to the area, so go forth and explore.

And finally, as promised, I’ll end with the folk story of Gallowsclough. This is taken from Thomas Middleton’s Legends of Longdendale (the book is a mine of local legends and folktales, as well as some good photographs, and is well worth seeking out – or reading in the pdf format at the link below)

Follow this link for The Legend of Gallow’s Clough.

It’s very Victorian in its telling, but the story is as black and evil as any I have read; there is something about it that disturbs and lingers in the mind – the imagery, and particularly the witch walking away at the end. No, I like a good dark folktale, but this is just on the border of being a little too dark for my tastes. Enjoy at night, and you have been warned…

So there you go. There’s plenty more in the pipeline, so watch this space. As always, comments are very welcome, and all will be published.

And I remain, your humble servant,

Archaeology · Roman

Melandra Roman Fort

January 17, 2019January 17, 2019 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

Greetings all

So then… Melandra.

No, this is not going to be a long essay on the much overlooked site, so don’t worry. In fact, you might say quite the opposite when I present a wonderful piece of archaeology… you’ll see.

scan plan — Plan taken from RS Conway’s ‘Melandra’ shows the layout of the fort, as well as the find spots of interesting bits and pieces. Most of these are now in Buxton Museum, which is well worth a look.

I was there a few months ago with the family Hamnett, and following Mike Brown and Roger Hargreave’s talk at the Glossop and Longdendale Archaeology Society. Both have been heavily involved in trying to get some sort of archaeological project resurrected for the site, as there is still so much not known, and both are great ambassadors for the fort. Sadly, there is nothing major in the pipeline, but their talk prodded me to go and look again at the overgrown site, windswept and slightly out of place against the backdrop of a 1960’s council estate. Face the other way, though, and it is the wilds of Longdendale that confront you. What a difference between this landscape and that in which the soldiers who built it grew up: The First Cohort of Frisiavones, originally from Belgium/Netherlands area, and assisted by men from the 3rd Cohort of Bracara Augustani, who were originally from Portugal.

It an amazing site, but one that is very neglected, and what could be a huge source of pride for the people of not just Longdendale, but of Derbyshire too, is all too easily passed by, overgrown and forlorn. So go and visit it, people. Read Mike Brown’s excellent booklet on it (couldn’t find a link, but it crops up all over). R.S. Conway’s 1906 academic book is out of print, but you can still get it relatively cheaply.

master ham — The young Master Hamnett at the north gate. Behind him, to the left, is St Michael’s, Mottram, and to the right, the ‘Deep Cutting’ at Roe Cross (and the White Stone).

Before we go on, though, a digression about the name Melandra.

According to the Ravenna Cosmography (a 7th Century list of Roman towns and forts), its actual name, was Ardotalia, not Melandra (see no.108 in the above link).

It is likely that Melandra is a name made up by the Reverend John Watson, the Rector of St Mary’s in Stockport, who first described the site following a visit in 1772. Seemingly, he wanted to give it a ‘classical’ air. Indeed, there is no record of the name Melandra existing prior to Watson’s and at that time of his ‘discovery’, as Watson himself notes, the area of the fort was known as the ‘Castle-Yard‘, and the eleven fields adjoining it are named ‘Castle Carrs‘ in various land deeds (1). Where, then, did Melandra originate? According to Anderson “The word Melandra has a curiously Greek appearance” (2), and is alleged to be a “Roman name derived from the Greek Melaxdryon, which signifies ‘the heart of oak‘ or ‘the heart in the oak“, perhaps a reference to the trees of Longdendale” (3). However, it is very unlikely that the Roman name remained unchanged for 1600 years. And, it is equally unlikely that the local population of late 18th century Glossopdale and Longdendale spoke classical Greek. No, they would simply have called it Castle Hill or similar, which is exactly what they did! However, an Oxford educated academic and clergyman would almost certainly have spoken several classical languages, and be at least proficient enough to invent a name. So thank you Reverend Watson, because of you, the name Melandra Castle has become common usage, and so we continue to call it thus.

Right, the find!

The fort is a scheduled ancient monument, so it is illegal to take anything out of the ground here. Even stuff off the molehills, which is where I found this:

Ring pull from a 1980’s drinks can. No idea what type, but I’m sure someone, somewhere, will know!

Don’t worry, I’m not about to feel the long arm of the law, it is quite literally rubbish, and of a 1970’s-80’s vintage. Anyone who watched the TV show Detectorists will immediately chuckle (very highly recommended, by the way, even if I don’t always see eye to eye with metal detectorists and their hobby).

According to this website, ring pulls like this stopped being used in the UK in around 1989/1990. So there you go. I was so taken aback by nostalgia, that I immediately thought “I need to blog this!” Also, I surely can’t be the only one who used to detach the seal bit, insert the larger end into the slot on the ring, and using the natural sprung tension, ‘ping’ it off in a frisbee fashion. You could get some distance on these things. Am I the only one?

Anyway, a bit of fun. I have a few more serious posts to finish off, so expect those relatively soon (after the weekend?)

And as always, I remain,

Your humble servant,

Watson, J. 1775. “An Account of an Undescribed Roman Station in Derbyshire” Archaeologia 3: 236-238
Anderson, W.B. 1906 “The Roman Place-Names of Derbyshire” in Conway, S (ed.) 1906 “Melandra”.
Middleton, T. 1906 “The Legends of Longdendale”

Archaeology

Pottery… and more.

October 15, 2018October 28, 2018 Tim Campbell-Green3 Comments

Evening all

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t published any pottery or other bits and pieces for a while. Of course, whilst I may not have written anything, it doesn’t mean that I have stopped picking things up… nope, I have literal bags of the stuff, much to Mrs Hamnett’s annoyance.

So here goes with some interesting bits and pieces from all over Glossop.

These first sherds of pottery are from the back garden of the Prince of Wales pub, Milltown, Glossop. I have already blogged about the clay pipes from here in this post, but this is the pottery that goes with them.

PoW — Treasure from the Prince of Wales pub. I’m happy to return them, if they want them.

The same age, unsurprisingly, Mid to late Victorian, possibly early 20th Century. The stoneware (top right) is fairly bog standard, and probably comes from a ginger beer bottle or similar (which makes sense, given where we are). The blue on white pottery is difficult to date from small fragments, but it starts in the 1790’s, and carries on until… well, now! This wouldn’t be early stuff, and it’s been kicking around for a while in the soil, so Mid – Late Victorian it is. The top left is from a featheredge decorated dinner plate, measuring 24cm in circumference. Here is a good example of the type with some discussion. This style of pottery also starts 1790ish, but the type we see here is the same date as the others. It is commonly found with a ‘shell edge’, but this one has the impressions on the surface, but not the undulations. All very common, and very in keeping with the place being a pub in the busy Milltown area. I want to know what was being served on the plate – good hearty pub food of meat and veg, one assumes.

This next sherd is from Whitfield Recreation Ground. I found it a few years ago, after some heavy rain, just underneath the bench by the swings.

Wrec — Unexpected find from Whitfield Rec.

Cream coloured stone ware, hard fired, and virtually indestructible, as I have mentioned elsewhere. This sherd is glazed inside and out, and comes from the bit that the joins the base to the side. This type of pottery was only normally used for ginger beer or milk in the late 19th and very early 20th Centuries, so we may assume that as the date. It’s a possible rare survival from a time before the recreation Ground was there (it opened in January 1903). I intend to do a future blog post about the ground, as it has a fascinating history.

This next lot is from Old Lane in Simmondley. This was the original road between Charlesworth and Glossop, and joined in the meeting of several roads at St James’s church, Whitfield (I have blogged about that meeting place before). I did a bit of a walk along the path as far as it goes (here, on my Twitter feed – and the next few photographs on from it), and it eventually fizzles out into fields. But along the way I picked up a few sherds.

Simmondly, Old Lane – the original road.

Top right is three sherds of cream ware, without decoration, and eminently undatable – probably Victorian, but ultimately these are destined for the midden in my garden. Top middle is a piece of thick slip glazed earthenware. This, I think, is 18th Century, so relatively early, and certainly earlier than the other sherds. It is glazed on the interior surface only, with the outer surface being washed with a red slip, so I think it is probably a cooking pot of some sort. Top left is a large stoneware storage jar of some form, or possibly a flagon like this. It is salt glazed on the inside, measures 14cm in diameter, has a chamfered edge around the base, and is almost certainly mid to late Victorian. Bottom right is a fine china open vessel – a saucer possibly – it is undecorated, and not enough remains to get a diameter. Bottom left is a broken fragment of a stoneware storage jar. It is salt glazed, and has an impressed decoration of a border of round blobs, which is a very common motif for this type of pottery.

Now, the good stuff!

There is a place, if you know where to look, in Manor Park, that produces all sorts of goodies. I think it is a late Victorian – Edwardian rubbish dump, or at least was one before being redeposited. Over the last few years, I have pulled some very interesting bits and pieces out of the soil, and I suspect there is plenty more, too.

First up, these two.

Unbroken glass bottles – something of a rarity.

The one on the right probably contained a hair oil or something (I don’t known why I know that, or even if it’s true, but I seem to recall reading it somewhere). Not that impressive, other than the fact that it still has the original label on it… except I can’t read the bloody thing! Frustrating.

The blue one on the left is lovely, though. Not a mark on it, and when I cleaned it off, I realised two things – firstly, there was a thick liquid inside it, and secondly, the seal was still good. I cleaned it really well, and gently opened up the bottle, and despite Mrs Hamnett daring me to taste it, I instead smelled it – faintly floral and clean. I think it’s rose scented oil for ladies to wear. A wonderful find.

The next two are really quite nice, too.

bot2 — A taste of childhood – I love the personal side to archaeology.

On the left, a fragment of a child’s cup, presumably with a nursery rhyme round it. I have looked up the phrases “a terrible grin” and “blew them both”, but nothing pops up the internet. If anyone has an idea, please let me know, as I’d love to find out. The fat figure also seems to have a tail – a dog or wolf? I was thinking the Three Pigs as a possibility, with the wolf blowing down the houses, but I don’t remember him blowing two houses down…

On the right, one of my favourite finds. A hollow-cast toy soldier, a child’s prized possession, perhaps. A member of the Grenadier Guards, he has his rifle shouldered, and is marching, albeit with no feet, but at least he has the dignity of having paint. I love toy soldiers, and my own childhood was filled with Airfix plastic ones (I still have them… they await Master Hamnett’s sticky claws!). They were cheaply produced in their thousands, and are not uncommon in rubbish dumps, but I absolutely adore this figure. I have looked online, and although there are thousands like him, I can’t quite place him.

Amazing stuff, and if you buy me a drink, I’ll tell you where to look!

And to end with, a little foreign fun. During my France trip this summer, I found this crumbling out of a soil bank in a vineyard, on the road to the walled city of Carcassonne.

It’s the dimple from the bottom of a wine bottle – technically called a ‘punt’. This one is blown glass, which ages it – you can make out the tiny air bubbles when you hold it up to the light. I’m no expert, but I would say it is certainly 19th Century – and apparently the deeper the punt, the earlier the bottle – so perhaps earlier? Anyway, given where we were, I couldn’t very well leave it there, could I?

Hope you have enjoyed the pottery, and as always comments and questions are most welcome.

Your humble servant,

Archaeology · Stones of Glossop

Some Questions Solved

October 3, 2018October 6, 2018 Tim Campbell-GreenLeave a comment

Greetings all

So, I received a pair of emails recently, and both of them answered an outstanding question that has been bugging me for some time.

Answers people, we actually have answers! I asked, you listened, and by Great Zeus (or Arnomecta, perhaps) you answered.

So, drum roll please…

THE STONE IN ST JAMES’S CHURCHYARD, WHITFIELD.

I mused here on the possibility that a large, out of place, stone in the churchyard St James’s, Whitfield, might be part of the base of the Hollin Cross that almost certainly stood at the junction there, on Hollincross Lane.

Hollincross 1 — Here is the stone in St James’s – not a cross base!

I was wrong. And how!

I got an email from Louise Seville which states:

“My father-in-law Neal Seville had some connection with the church (Sunday school??), I think in the 1970s. He was giving a talk based on the parable of the wise man and the foolish man. He and his friend Bert Taylor from Chunal, brought the stone from Bert’s own small quarry at the back of his house on Chunal. The stone was moved on a truck – Bert had a haulage company. The stone was used in church to illustrate the story and was abandoned in the churchyard afterwards as it proved to be too difficult to move. Neal said that in the future people would wonder how the stone got there and come to all sorts of conclusions! “

And how right he was!

So there we have it folks. I genuinely think that it was bonkers to use a stone that size to illustrate the parable, no matter how factually correct! But apparently that was about right for Neal, who got up to all sorts of capers. Here is the parable, for those of you that slept through Sunday School.

So my thanks to Louise and Eddie Seville for solving the mystery. And, of course, thanks to the late Neal Seville for providing one in the first place.

Now, the next one has bugged me for years, so I am truly grateful for its solution.

THE ODDLY SHAPED CERAMIC OBJECTS

I asked for ideas about these bits of pottery that Sandra T. and I had found. They were so oddly shaped, and so similar in production, that they must have had a single, very specialised, purpose. But what purpose, that was the question.

Pot Mystery 2 — The puzzling pieces of pottery

Well, bam! An email from the wonderful Eddie Picton arrived in my inbox the other day.

May I suggest that they are “creel peg pivots” as used in textile machinery. A roving bobbin had sliver wound on it, this was then put upon a creel peg and then put in following machine creel. The lower end then would be free to rotate on the ceramic with minimal friction. I worked in the last spinning mill in Oldham, the last of this type of creel was scrapped in the early 1990s, the mill finally closing 2002.

The connection between the object and the place – both connected with weaving and spinning – made this very likely, and it is not an interpretation I had thought of before. I did a bit of research, and began to understand how they would have worked. Yes, it seemed to fit.

Last night, Eddie was at the Glossop and Longdendale Archaeological Society talk on ‘Melandra – Past and Future’ given by Mike Brown and Roger Hargreaves (and very good it was too). He gave me this drawing of how the creel peg pivot would have worked and where it sat in the machine.

Our pottery pieces are those marked ‘Pot’ in the picture, with the bobbin/creel peg sitting in the hollow, glazed, part of the mystery object. They are tapered slightly so that they can fit into the holes in the frame.

These are those, in situ, in Styal Mill. The photo is Eddie’s.

So that’s that solved! Thanks for that, Eddie, you’re a star. And it seems I owe you a drink… I’m as good as my word. See you on the first Tuesday of November.

I have another blog almost ready to go, so fingers crossed you’ll get a bumper crop of posts by the weekend.

As always, comments and questions are very welcome.

Archaeology · Oddities

A Puzzling Piece of Pottery

June 29, 2018June 30, 2018 Tim Campbell-Green1 Comment

Evening all. The third blog post of June… see, I am trying.

Anyway, this one should (hopefully) provoke a bit of a response. I say hopefully because, dear and precious readers… I need a favour.

Some back story.

I received an email from the wonderful Sandra T. some months ago, asking whether I knew anything about this piece of pottery that she had found in Manor Park. She, like most of the people who read this blog, pick up random things they find interesting, which is to be commended (although, apparently, she keeps them in a clock… but let’s not judge).

Pot Mystery 1 — The mystery object – AA battery for scale. Copyright Sandra T.

Now, I had no idea what it was, but it rang a bell. a brief search through my ‘interesting things’ box, and lo!

So now we have three of these mystery objects. I found mine in an old dump near Broadbottom, which at the latest was 1910’s, but was generally earlier – say 1890’s – which at least gives us a time period to look at.

Interesting. I thought I’d do this post eventually, as someone out there might know what , when, and why.

Last month my new neighbour (hello Simon A.) partly demolished and rebuilt a wall on our property line, and in the process discovered that the whole wall sits on a bed of pottery and other domestic waste. This mountain of material will be the subject of a future post, especially as it makes a fairly coherent deposit, thus can tell us interesting things. The wall can only have been built post 1850-ish, and definitely before 1860, which gives us a clear date, too. Amongst the bits and pieces was this:

Pot Mystery 3 — Another one… what are they?

So now we have four of them.

They are roughly conical, tapering to the base, measure between 10 and 12mm high, 13-14mm across the top, and roughly 11mm across the bottom. The bottom is flat, the top is hollow in a perfect hemisphere (I say top and bottom, but actually they might work either way up). Some are glazed all over, but one is only glazed on the interior of the hollow. This last point is important, and may hold the key to understanding what they are; it matters that only this bit is glazed, i.e. waterproof, not the rest of the object. Why? Also, they are clearly mass produced, and have a very specific role… but what?

I have two suggestions, both of which may work, but equally they are guesswork!

1) Kiln furniture. When you fire pots in a mass group, as they were being in the Victorian period, you need to keep the plates, etc. separate in the kiln, or the heat won’t circulate properly and you end up with poorly fired plates. These spacers were made in their millions, and were about the same size and shape. Though what they would be doing here in Glossop – not known for it pottery kilns – is anyone’s guess.

2) A way of selling medicine. The little hollow bit is glazed, but the exterior isn’t, so perhaps the medicine was stored in that bit, and scraped out when needed? Or it held a single pill that could be crushed in the hollow?

So over to you. Please, please comment and let me know what you think. The question is very simple. What on earth are they?

I’ll buy a drink for anyone who can tell me, with proof, what they are.

Archaeology

A Garden Gift

May 9, 2018May 9, 2018 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

A glorious weekend – I got all my vegetables planted, the garden was tidied, the lawn was mown… and wine was drunk in the sunset. A very succesful weekend indeed.

I was going to blog about some bits and pieces I had found recently, but two wonderful things happened over the last few days. The first of which will have to wait… it will take a bit of unpicking (and cleaning and researching). It is very exciting. And lots of it.

But for now, I present the second wonderful thing, a gift from my raised bed of onions and garlic!

Slate 1 — You can see the marks where it has been shaped, though I don’t know how they were made.

Ok, so I know it doesn’t look like much (so many of my blog posts start like that), but it’s the bottom end of a Victorian (or very early Edwardian) child’s slate pencil. Paper was a very expensive commodity in the Victorian period, and you certainly wouldn’t have given it to children to learn to write on. Instead, they practised their copperplate handwriting on slate writing tablets with slate pencils such as this.

Years ago, I found an old wooden pencil case in a junk store, and in it were two complete and several broken slate pencils – it’s nice to see a complete original one.

Slate 2 — A complete version of a slate pencil – again, you can see the grinding marks where it was shaped.

Last year, I was poking around a Victorian rubbish tip with a friend (as you do…), and I came across this broken example of a writing slate.

Slate 3 — Broken writing slate. You can see the lines used to guide the child learning copperplate script.

The thing is wonderful. You can clearly see the engraved lines – thin, thick, thin, for the upper, middle, and lower part of each letter – to keep the child’s letter forms perfect and copperplate. But look at the edges too – they are shaped – it may be mass produced, but some care has gone into how it looks.

I turned it over, and found this on the reverse

Wonderful – squared paper for maths problems, and probably for art too. I love this object, and it is among my favourite things that I have found. Sadly, it wasn’t in the Glossop area, but in deepest, darkest, Lancashire, but I thought I’d share it anyway to illustrate my pencil… so to speak.

Here’s what it would have looked like when it was being used.

Slate Tab — Victorian writing slate, lifted from this website.

The question is, then, how did the slate pencil fragment end up in my garden?

We archaeologists are obsessed with object biographies:

“Not only do objects change through their existence, but they often have the capability of accumulating histories, so that the present significance of an object derives from the persons and events to which it is connected.”

(Gosden C. and Y. Marshall. 1999. ‘The Cultural Biography of Objects’ p.170)

And this object has a fascinating biography. It starts with a pencil being dropped by a child and broken. It is then thrown away into the toilet with all the other rubbish, and taken away by the night soil man. Via the process of night soiling, it ended up spread onto a field. But not my field, yet. This is the interesting bit – the raised bed in which I found it was filled with soil that we bought from Lymefield Garden Centre in Broadbottom (highly recommended, by the way). The source for this soil is, I think, just behind the garden centre, but the original location for the pencil (i.e. the school) was probably Manchester, or perhaps Ashton Under Lyne (although, I suppose there is no reason to assume that it couldn’t have come from a school in Broadbottom).

The fact that the pencil may have started out being used in Manchester, and ended up in my onion patch in Glossop, via in a field in Broadbottom, is a cautionary tale for archaeological intepretation – we could have simply assumed that my house was once used as a school.

Anyway, slate pencils are not uncommon finds in fields and gardens – night soiling means they get around, and they stick around as, like pottery, they are virtually indestructible – Here, for example, is one on a blog run by a gardener who records the things she finds in the soil. And a brief glance around the internet produces a number of similar results. Still, it’s a nice little find, and a wonderful piece of social history.

As ever, comments and questions are most welcome.

More very soon.

Archaeology · Wells

Some Lost Mottram Wells

February 15, 2018February 18, 2018 Tim Campbell-Green4 Comments

I thought I’d venture a little farther afield this week. The blog is intended to explore Glossop’s heritage, but I feel that if I can see it from Glossop, I should be allowed to blog about it… even if it is in another county.

But don’t worry, we won’t be going to Yorkshire!

St Michael and All Angels church in Mottram dominates this end of Longdendale – it is visible from all sorts of angles, disappearing as you travel various roads and paths, only to pop up unexpectedly from behind buildings or between trees. Indeed, it’s presence keeps watch over the valley, almost as a reminder that the church watches over the people. In fact, I can see it from James’ window, on the distant brow.

Mottram Wells - Church — St Michael and All Angels, Mottram. Photograph by Stephen Burton.

It sits on a prominence called War Hill (from the Middle English Quarrelle, meaning quarry), and is a particularly bleak place, catching all the wind that roars down Longdendale from the moors. The church itself, though severely ‘improved’ during the Victorian period (read, monkeyed around with and partly rebuilt) is still at its heart essentially late medieval in date – mid 15th Century or so. Going further back, it may well have been the site of Saxon church prior to that. Travelling even further, there is evidence in the form of cropmarks that it might have been the site of a Roman signal station connected to Melandra – a perfect place with commanding views up and down Longdendale. Prior even to that, particularly given its prominent location in the landscape, it must surely have been attractive in prehistory, though there is no evidence at present.

As an interesting aside, during the late 17th Century a whole pile of my ancestors, the Williamsons, were ‘hatched, matched, and dispatched’ here (that is, they were baptised, married and buried). The Williamson family married into the Sidebottom family who were fairly big in this area, were important in the early Industrial period, and were consequently quite wealthy. Alas, my line gradually becomes poorer, and we end up in East Manchester working in a mill, rather than owning it.

Mottram Wells - Williamson — Signature of John Williamson, my great, great. great, great, great, great, great grandfather, born in 1678 in Mottram, and who married Elizabeth Sidebottom on 15th February 1703 in Mottram Church… exactly 315 years to the day, today, coincidentally, and rather spookily. I will raise a glass to them whilst looking at the church as soon as I have published this post!

Perusing the old OS maps of the area, as I am wont to do (here), I noticed three wells in the immediate vicinity. Now, nothing unusual there, the whole area is teeming with them as we live in an area with a high number of springs. However, what was unusual is that all three, very close together, were named. Normally, a well is simply marked ‘well‘ on an OS map, but the fact that these have names could indicate that there may be more to them. And what names they are – Daniel Well, Grave Well, and Boulder Well – names that conjured up wonderful images. Well, well, well, I thought, this must be worth an investigation.

Mottram Wells - Map — The three wells, Daniel, Grave, and Boulder, are outlined in Red. Mottram church is outlined in green in order to get your bearings. This is from the 1886 1:2500 OS map. Note also the Coal Shaft and Mottram Colliery marked – the area has a very low quality coal seam running through it that was sporadically mined in the 18th and 19th centuries.

And so it was.

Daniel Well is situated on the left, northern, side of a track that comes from War Hill along the side of the school, and downhill to a pond. Interestingly, the only artefactual evidence from this exploration came from this first part of the track, just behind the school playground.

Mottram Wells - Bottle — 1/3 pint of Co-Op school milk in a squat bottle. This really is a nostalgic trip!

I am just about old enough to remember free school milk, and these are the bottles they came in… It has been over 30 years since I touched one of these last, and the feeling was one of immediate nostalgia and a weird sense of happiness. Silver foil top and a blue plastic straw… I was back in Bradshaw Hall Infants School, just like it was yesterday! What I love about this artefact is that the only way it could have ended up on the track behind the playground is if some naughty child threw it over the fence… if you put it to your ear, I swear I can hear the “vip, vip, vip” sound of Parka coats rubbing together and the cries of “go on, I dare you… chuck it!”.

On to Daniel Well, then. The sunken path is muddy, but well constructed and was clearly used – I wondered if this was the main well for the area. My first sight of it seems to confirm that thought.

Mottram Wells - Daniel Well 1 — Daniel Well, overgrown and unloved. Beyond is the playing field of Mottram School, and beyond that, Longdendale.

The path widens out at this point, and the stone built well head structure stands well built still. The path is very boggy, and although the well is overgrown and possibly relatively dry in terms of water within it, the spring that created the well is still flowing freely downhill.

Mottram Wells - Daniel Well 2 — Close up of Daniel Well. Stone built arch, and side platforms upon which to put your buckets, bottles, etc.

The stone-built arch that is the front of the well goes back some three feet, although it is sadly now full of collapsed rubble. To me, this seems a sad end to what was one of the most vital aspects of the village – lives were, quite literally, saved with this water. Food, drink, laundry, baths, all came from this point. People who met drawing water here married in the church above, and had children. Gossip and community, focused on this place, and yet, no longer. I would love to see it restored, or just a little better cared for.

Following the path down, the water flows into this secluded and sheltered pond.

Mottram Wells - Pond — The pond from the end of the track. The water flowing into it from behind the camera comes from Daniel Well. It then flow out again through a channel to the left.

Clearly Daniel Well was an important well in the area – the path and the stone built well head attest to this. I have no idea about the name, though – possibly from a personal name of the person who owned the land? Something Biblical, maybe? Any thoughts, anyone? The 1954 1:10,00 sees the last mention of Daniel Well on an OS map, and clearly by that point it had ceased to be important as a water source. Sadly, I doubt anyone living nearby would know it was there now, or at least know that it had a name.

Making my way back up, I decided to look for the other two wells. I had studied Google maps before exploring, and took a while to work out the locations by superimposing the old map field boundaries onto the modern satellite image of the area.

Mottram Wells - Overlay2 — 4 is Daniel Well, 3 is Grave Well, and 2 is Boulder Well. 1 becomes important in the discussion below. The black lines are the field boundaries shown in the 1886 map that are no longer there to help with orientation.

Alas, there is nothing left of Grave Well except a muddy patch in the field.

Mottram Well - Grave Well Site — The muddy area in the middle ground, in the slight dip, corresponds to the location of Grave Well. The ground was boggy and is clearly a spring of some sort. The view is looking south.

I am not sure what would have stood here originally – perhaps a structure like that at Daniel Well, but I feel this is unlikely: it is in the middle of the field, and with only a minor footpath to get to the well. No, I think it more likely that it was a simple affair that held some water where it bubbled from the spring underneath. I love the name, though – obviously derived from its proximity to the burial ground of the church, out of view to the right in the photograph. Either that, or it may recall the discovery of a burial in the immediate area. Either way, it does raise interesting questions about water tables and burials, though, and I’m not sure I would like to drink from Grave Well! Its last mention before it disappears into the veil of history is on the 1882 1:10,000 OS map. It clearly lost its importance, and was gradually forgotten about.

Pushing further on I looked for the Boulder Well and, when I found it, was similarly a little disappointed… at least at first, anyway. It was another muddy patch.

Mottram Wells - Boulder Well — The muddy patch in the left foreground corresponds to the location of Boulder Well on the map. The view from here, looking east, is incredible – Longdendale Valley at the left, Glossopdale at the right, and the hump of Mouselow just right of centre. Melandra is somewhere dead centre of the photograph. Despite it being dark, I am quite proud of this photograph.

As with Grave Well, I am not sure what would have stood here originally – probably nothing much. Also, in common with Grave Well, the last mention of it on the OS map is the 1882 1:10,000 map, after which it disappears, and is gone forever. The name intrigued me, though: Boulder Well is a very specific name, deriving from… well, one assumes… a boulder. The lack of boulder is, then, confusing, and a little disappointing.

I pushed on regardless, to see what I could see. And lo! In the next field north, at the edge, there stood a bloody big boulder!

Mottram Wells - Boulder Well2 — The boulder! Looking north. It is marked as point ‘1’ on the satellite map above.

Mottram Wells - Boulder Well3 — Close up of the boulder. It is a glacial erratic of some sort, rounded and left behind by the retreating ice.

Now, although it is in a different field, this must be the origin of the name Boulder Well. Indeed, it appears to have been moved ‘recently’ – it is sitting on top of the grass, rather than embedded in it. However, if it had been moved, this at least would explain why it is in a different field from the ‘well’, and why it now stands comfortably out of the way at the field boundary. I wonder when it was moved, and where it stood originally.

Mottram Wells - Boulder Well4 — The boulder, with the Longdendale Valley behind it.

The fate of these wells is interesting, and is obviously tied to the introduction of clean piped drinking water directly into your home. We – and I am very guilty of this – have a tendency to romanticise the past, and a wish to remove the trappings of modern day living, to peel back all the ‘progress’ we have made, and to revert to a simpler way of life. I love the idea of having to walk to a well to draw pure cold water, it would be so… earthy, grounding, basic. Free and simple.
But then I have never done it in the rain, sleet, or snow, wearing ill fitting wooden clogs, wrapped in a basic cloth shirt, slipping down a muddy unmetalled path, after having worked 15 hours in a mill.
I may yearn for a less commercial, more simple life… but I don’t yearn for pneumonia.

Hope you enjoyed the jaunt around Mottram. I have a few more posts I’d like to do about various wells – they intrigue me – so watch this space.

As always, comments of any kind are most welcome.

Archaeology

Even More Shelf Brook Sherds

November 22, 2017 Tim Campbell-Green3 Comments

With an obvious predictability, I cannot resist having a poke around the brook whenever I’m in the neighbourhood – there is always something to find. Ok, so it’s not quite mudlarking on the Thames foreshore, but it is Glossop’s equivalent, and that makes it all the more important to us (if not quite as bountiful!). By the way, if anyone is interested in mudlarking, or the slightly haphazard and magpie approach to the past that this blog is following, then check out the book London in Fragments by Ted Sandling. I cannot recommend it enough – beautifully illustrated with fragments of pot, glass, pipe, stone, metal, etc. and each with a very interesting essay accompanying the item (be warned, the ‘Look Inside’ feature on Amazon misses out all of the photographs!). Just beautiful.

So then, the haul!

Pot 1 — At first glance, not that inspiring… but bear with me!

As is becoming my habit, unless they were decorated, or a rim, a base, or a handle, I left the white glazed earthernware and china in the brook. As a rule of thumb, these are the four criteria archaeologists use to sort out the ‘feature sherds’, which are diagnostic (giving us information about date, type, function, etc.) from the ‘body sherds’, which normally make up the majority of a assemblage. It is a rule of thumb, though, and some body sherds can be equally important if they are of an unusual fabric, or are able tell us more information.

So what can we see?

Pottery first. Top sherd is a from a small-ish and closed salt-glazed stoneware vessel. We can tell it is from a closed vessel (i.e. like a bottle, not open like a bowl), by the fact that the interior surface is rougher and unfinished – why waste your time glazing it properly if no one is going to see it? Also, the salt glazing process involves literally throwing salt into the high temperature kiln where it vapourises forming the characteristic glaze; this vapour will not readily reach the interior of the vessel. This vessel was probably something like an ink pot or similar, but by the late 19th century, the date of this sherd, salt-glazed stoneware was mass produced on a literal industrial scale, so it is difficult to be certain.

Middle right. Another closed salt-glazed stoneware vessel, same date, but larger – possibly a milk or lemonade bottle bottle or similar. This sherd is thickening slightly at the left, and so is perhaps forming the shoulder of the bottle.

Middle left, is another salt-glazed stoneware vessel. This one appears to be open, and is decorated by using the rouletting method – a small wheel with teeth was run over the surface to produce the characteristic incised decoration. This one has a very common motif of undulating lines around the body of the pot. The sherd is mid to late 19th century, and probably from a storage jar or crock, and despite being relatively thin, is probably from a large vessel.

Bottom left is the base to a milk or lemonade bottle (it is flat, but lifting slightly toward the middle of the base, and you can see the concentric lines that characterise the base of these bottles). Stoneware again, but a more conventional glaze which gives it the characteristic cream colour. Interestingly, when I flipped it over, you can see a manufacturing flaw – the glaze has pooled against the interior wall, and instead of vitrifying uniformly, it has bubbled and produced a very messy surface.

However, it won’t be seen because it is a what? “A closed vessel, Mr Hamnett”, chorused everyone – good to see you are paying attention. It also illustrates why it was probably unwise to reuse these bottles – if it contained milk (raw and unpasteurised, of course), there is no way you could hope to get that clean enough, even with a steriliser.

Bottom right. An interesting sherd… honest. It is a slip-glazed earthernware vessel, and to judge from the colour of the fabric (the clay itself) and the colour of the glaze, as well as the way it flakes away, it is probably 18th Century. Of course, I could be wrong… but there is something about that sherd that gives it an early-ish date.

Glass! Top is from a corked beer bottle… probably. Certainly corked, not capped or screw threaded, and almost certainly beer. And likely Victorian, or early Edwardian.

Middle is probably a Victorian mineral water bottle. The glass is thick and has an embossed ‘&’ sign and some other marks visible, which would have been the name of the maker and their logo. Without doing a lot of serious research, it would be very difficult to say who made it, as a lot of companies were called ‘Something & Something‘. That stated, there were so many mineral water companies that the bottles tended not to travel far, so theoretically there can’t be that many in the area, so it might be worth a look.

Bottom is just a bottle fragment, again probably from a mineral water bottle. i include it here because a) it is a blueish colour, and so potentially earlier than the rest, and b) it has two air bubbles trapped in the glass. At first I thought that it might have been hand blown, but no, I think it is just a feature of the manufacture. What is fun, though, is the fact that within those bubbles lies a tiny amount of Victorian air, preserved for eternity. I wonder what the Victorian period smelled like? Actually, on second thoughts…

So, nothing truly award winning, but a little slice of Glossop history nonetheless.

Just as I was about to walk away, I turned over a stone, and found the other side was flat and dressed.

It is a sandstone, and not local to the area as far as I can tell, but then I am no geologist. The dressing can be more clearly seen in this photograph, with the low winter sun picking out the chisel marks.

Stone 2 — The dressing clearly shown, with a possible mis-hit on the right.

Obviously it was once part of a building, but what part? Maybe a door or window lintel perhaps? I don’t think it is particularly old, and it is quite a coarse dressing, so perhaps it is from a worker’s cottage or similar. The bank in this area seems to have been shored up against erosion, and it probably building demolition rubble dumped here from nearby.

As always, comments are welcome.

I shall post more in a day or so… this time on the subject of Victoria Bridge. Probably!

Archaeology

More Shelf Brook Sherds

September 30, 2017September 30, 2017 Tim Campbell-GreenLeave a comment

So, James and I went back to Manor Park last week and had a paddle round to see what we could see. He threw rocks, I had a poke around some sherds and and found a number of interesting bits and pieces. Behold, the haul:

More Shelf Brook Sherds — The haul of pottery!

Most of it is the usual type of white glazed stuff, the majority of which I left in situ… Mrs Hamnett can only cope with so many of these “valuable historical artefacts”/”bits of old pot” (delete as appropriate) stored in the house! The following are interesting (again, interesting is an objective term!) sherds:

Middle row, centre, is a clay pipe stem. These are quite literally the cigarette butt of the Victorian period, smoked and disposed of with gay abandon. I’m surprised there aren’t more of them in the brook, but then they are quite light and so are easily carried by the water. Date… from the stem alone, impossible to say – 16th to 20th Century! On balance though, almost certainly 19th Century, when tobacco had become an affordable luxury, and clay pipe smoking was normal for even the common man.

On either side of the pipe are pieces of glass. Rounded by being bashed against rocks, they resemble sea glass, and both come from bottles. The piece on the right is thin walled, and probably from a sauce bottle or similar.

Bottom row, from left to right is the rim of a thin and delicate shallow bowl of about 12cm in diameter. Thinking about it, it is probably a saucer, but from that fragment it is difficult to say, as is the date – 19th to 20th Century. Middle is a transfer printed handle from a tall upright vessel – possibly a tureen or similar. Date, as above! And on the right, the badly damaged base to a plate or bowl or similar large open vessel. The brown stripe across the middle is what remains of the ring base, which has come away. Date is almost certainly the same as above.

The best sherd I have saved for last, though. I thought it was an interesting rock when I pulled it out, and was quite excited when I recognised it for what it is.

It would appear to be a sherd from a manganese glazed vessel. “Wow!” I hear you cry collectively…

Well, wow indeed! I suspect that this sherd is 18th Century in date, and could be quite easily be 17th Century, considerably earlier than the majority of the material I’ve found so far.

The blue-ish purple colour of the glaze is very characteristic, and the fabric of the pot is early – a low firing temperature has produced a relatively soft body quite unlike the hard fired later vessels, and it is a coarse earthenware, not a china. It is a thick walled vessel, again quite common in earlier pots, particularly utilitarian vessels such as storage and serving pots, and is markedly different from the mass produced Victorian vessels. I can’t tell the type of vessel from which it comes – it is an open vessel (i.e. not a bottle or similar closed vessel), and has an internal diameter of c.14cm. – so perhaps a jug, or deep bowl?

The move toward finer pottery in the late 18th/early 19th centuries as ‘tableware’ is a response to fashion – the finer the vessel, the more expensive it is – with fine bone china was reserved for the wealthy only. Of course, as a result, everyone wanted some in order to keep up with their ‘betters’, and so the demand for fine pottery trickled down the social ranks, and new ways were found to mass produce finer pottery, though obviously of poorer quality.

That this early pottery is here is not surprising – it dates from a period before Glossop as we know it existed – before the mass explosion of the mills in the early 19th Century, and the subsequent expansion of housing to cope with the need for mill workers. At this time, the main settlement area was Old Glossop, clustered around the church, and with a few mills on the water there. And of course, Shelf Brook flows through Old Glossop. I may take a walk up there sometime this weekend!

Archaeology · Oddities

The Letter ‘R’

September 21, 2017September 21, 2017 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

At the bottom of St Mary’s Road, on the left hand side, and just behind the back yard of The Retreat beauty salon, there is a gatepost next to the footpath. It is a fairly standard, if precisely carved, gatepost, and much like many of the others you would find in the area. However, this one has a large upper case letter ‘R’ carved expertly into its face.

Letter R 1 — The letter ‘R’ beautifully carved.

I have no clue why it was carved, nor who did it, nor when. The buildings in this part of Glossop centre are among the oldest (1840’s or thereabouts), and the letter style certainly suggests Victorian origin, and probably early Victorian – the large serifs recalls Georgian lettering. It has clearly been used as a gatepost multiple times, with different gate sizes and shapes, and even paint colours – you can see the evidence in the form of holes and paint. Importantly, most of these were placed over the carving, so post-date it.

Letter R 2 — Use and re-use – the evidence of the holes, fixings, and paint.

I checked the early maps for any idea, but nothing was shown that may explain its origin. I haven’t had time to check the census records, and these may shed some light on it, but as it stands… no idea! Whilst looking at the post, I found a child’s toy marble in the gutter – not a particularly old one, but it has seen some use, and is covered in scratches and chips. So obviously, I picked it up!

Marble — I can’t resist a find, even if it is not quite archaeology.

Any thoughts or suggestions regarding the letter on a postcard please (or you could just, you know, post a comment below).