Archaeology · Longdendale · Pottery

Valehouse Pot

What ho, kind and gentle folk of the blog reading world!

Sooooo, today is back to some sense of normality in that I am looking at pottery.
Woo-hoo!” I hear you cry.
Well alright, some of you cried “woo-hoo!“.
Well alright, not that many of you if I’m honest. Certainly not enough of you.
Well tough… it’s my blog, and I like pottery, so we’re doing pottery. Now pay attention, I may ask questions.

Actually, this stuff is interesting in two ways. Firstly, as bits of archaeology. And secondly, I didn’t find them! No, that dubious honour rests with my friend and fellow delver and obsessive, Charles Winford Lodge (actually not his real name, but then you are reading a blog written by a man who has been dead for well over 100 years, so it’s probably best not to start asking too many questions at this point). He goes by @2hrTV on Twitter, and usually has something interesting to say on the subject of the history of Glossop and area. Usually… I mean, I can’t promise.

Anyway, the conversation – pretty normal for us – went along the lines of:
Him – “Years ago I found some pottery at Valehouse Reservoir. I’ve just re-found it in the house… want to see it?
Me – “Absolutely, my good man… lead on.”

Out it comes (in a plastic doughnut box from Tesco – price £1.10 – bear in mind this is the man who once gave me some pottery in a camembert box, so doughnuts are a step up). Most of them are fairly standard Victorian sherds, but one or two made me sit up. Now, the sherds had not been washed (tut! tut!), and so I volunteered to take them, clean them, and blog about them. Which is how I ended up washing up someone else’s broken old rubbish. Please, no one tell Mrs Hamnett… it might not end well. For any of us.
However, I think the risk was worth it.

Valehouse is an interesting place; now just the name of a reservoir in the Longdendale Valley, below the Woodhead Road, it was once a village that in its prime, and prior to its flooding, had roughly 600 residents in 100 cottages with a number of shops, a school, and other amenities. Samuel Oldknow built the first mill here in 1775 – the first to harness the power of the Etherow – and it is after this point, and largely in the early 19th century, when the mills were substantially expanded, that the majority of houses were built to house the mill workers. The valley was flooded in 1869 to provide Manchester with water, and the mills and houses were all submerged. I also have a personal connection with the village in that my great great great grandfather, Benjamin Livesey, was born there in 1824.

Valehouse prior to the 1869 flooding. Note the large mill buildings, and the many houses.
Valehouse as it was in 1899, and indeed still. Note the large quantity of water and lack of houses.

So then, the pottery. It was recovered during a drought a few years ago, and from the area around the viewing platform on the north side of the reservoir. Having studied the sherds, it’s clear they can be split into two broad chronological groups – early 18th century and late 19th century – which probably represent two different origins. I’ll discuss the latest first, before looking at the oldest, and arguably more interesting.

Not, at first glance, particularly inspiring.

1 – A Victorian earthenware jar or jug, vertical ridged decoration, with a body diameter of 9cm, and glazed in a lovely cobalt blue colour. Nothing special, but quite fancy.

2 – Simple sherd of blue and white earthenware, with the bog standard transfer print.

3 – Thick base to a Late Victorian Codd Bottle. It has ‘TON-U-LYNE’ embossed on one side, and a little research gives us ‘R.A. Barrett & Co.’ of Ashton-Under-Lyne. They manufactured soft drinks and mineral water, and were particularly noted for their ginger beer. Their factory still stands in Dean Street, Ashton.

A complete Barrett & Co. Codd bottle, and the factory as it stands today. The bottle fragment above would have been made in this factory.

4 – Fragment of bottle, probably Victorian mineral water or beer.

5 – Another fragment of green glass – probably Victorian, as it is quite thin walled, but it does contain large numbers of bubbles, suggesting perhaps an earlier date.

6 – A large, thick walled, earthenware sherd, perhaps part of a lid to a very large “Brown Betty” teapot – it is certainly the right colour for this, and curves the right way. The surface colour is a mottled brown, and is a type that deliberately recalls the earlier, 18th century, manganese ware. Interestingly, you can see how this effect is achieved by looking at the break. Two colours of clay – one dark reddish brown and one a creamy buff – are loosely mixed, and the clay is shaped into the mould. It is first fired, then a clear or slightly yellow glaze applied, followed by a second higher temperature firing. Where the cream buff forms the surface, it is a yellow or golden brown, and where the reddish clay forms the surface, it produces a dark rich brown, together forming the mottled effect. I quite like it, but much prefer the original 17th century stuff.

The appetising looking Victorian mottled ware sherd. You can see how the different coloured clay affects the surface colour

Right, let’s move onto the arguably more interesting stuff.

This material dates from roughly the early 18th century – let’s say 1700 – 1750… ish.

1 – Large and chunky strap handle probably of Nottingham Stoneware, and probably from a large jug or flagon. It measures 4.5cm wide, and is typical of its type. Stoneware is fired to a very high temperature, melting – or vitrifying – the clay, making it into a very hard and almost metallic pottery. It has a dark grey fabric, with a brown glazed surface which is very shiny – the result of adding iron to the glaze. Interestingly, this is not as fine or well made as the earliest material here, and shows some similarities with the later Derbyshire Stoneware, so it might be the somewhere in late 18th century.

2 – Base to a stoneware jug or jar, with a diameter of 10cm. This too has characteristics of both earlier Nottingham Stoneware and the later Derbyshire type – the glaze for example, is less lustrous than early sherds, but it has the classic grooved decoration running around the base. The underside shows wear suggestive of use and re-use over time. On balance, I’m going to say it is early, safe in the knowledge that no one is going to double check (as he scurries away and hides it).

3 – Lovely Nottingham Stoneware bowl, with a rim diameter of 13cm, and a slightly flaring out-turned rim. It’s thin walled, with a grey uniform fabric that was slipped in white before glazing. The surface glaze is a lovely melted chocolate colour, very lustrous and almost metallic looking, and is very characteristic, as is the horizontal grooved decoration on the exterior, and glaze drip marks on the interior. I liked this so much that a drew it using the archaeological method – essentially looking at the whole vessel in profile, and removing a quarter to allow both the interior and exterior to be shown.

The profile of the sherd is shown on the left, coloured in black – this shows the shape of the pot. The interior of the pot is shown next, with the wavy lines where the glaze dripped. Then the exterior of the vessel is shown next to that. I might do a post about this type of drawing, as I’d like to do more. It’s been a while since I did this last, though.

4 – This is a bit of an odd one. Stoneware, but potentially quite early. Certainly it fits with the 18th century stuff, but the surface is off – it looks like orange peel, dimpled all over with a salt glaze, and reminds me of the earlier 18th and even 17th century German stonewares that were imported in huge quantities. Whatever it is, it’s a huge rounded or pot bellied vessel with a diameter of roughly 26cm, despite being very thin walled. It is also a closed vessel, being glazed on the exterior only, so perhaps some form of small barrel or large bottle?

5 – Nottingham Stoneware – flask or bottle type. The body, shoulder, and beginning of the neck only, it has a body diameter of 18cm, so quite large despite being very thin walled. It has a double band of horizontal incised decoration which is showing the under slip where the glaze is thinnest. Like No.3, the glaze is lustrous and a melted chocolate in colour.

6. Finally, we have the star of the show – a rim fragment of a Staffordshire Slipware platter or large plate. This stuff is very diagnostic, and gives a clear date of between 1650 and 1750, with this sherd from 1700ish.

Interesting stuff!

Slipware like this is quite good quality, and a step up from the wood or plain wares that the average man or woman would eat from – or rather take from, as this would be a communal dish that everyone would eat from. Often broadly rectangular (as this is, I think), they are shallow, and would be completely covered in this linear banded decoration of yellow and dark brown. It’s quite striking, and would be a blast of colour in a world that was otherwise quite drab, particularly in winter. I still can’t work out whether I love or hate this stuff! Here is a complete example:

A complete example of migraine inducing 18th century pottery.

The process of decorating the pot went as follows: the pot is first moulded, then fired at a low temperature. The interior, and only the interior, is covered in a red slip, then overlaid with a white slip, and a tool is then dragged through this white slip, revealing the red underneath. The whole interior is then covered in a clear glaze and fired, transforming the colours to dark brown on the red, and honey yellow on the white. The whole process can be seen if we look at the break on the sherd:

Right – some of the red slip splashed on the exterior of the sherd, it remains red because it hasn’t reacted with the glaze. Left – all there elements can be seen in the break: the red and white slips, the tool that scraped away the white slip, and the glaze that overlays the lot.

So what does all this mean, then?

Because the valley was flooded to create Valehouse Reservoir, it gives us a cut off point (a terminus ante quem in archaeological terms – essentially the latest time an event could have happened) – any buildings and such there must have been built before this point. However, that is not strictly true with portable objects, especially those found near the edge of the water – the reservoir was almost immediately a picnic and pleasure spot, and plates get broken, bottles get launched into the water, etc. So we can suggest tentatively that although some of the material will likely be from the village before it was drowned, most of the Victorian material, and in particular the Codd Bottle, was deposited after the reservoir was filled.

The same cannot be said for the earlier material, and therefore there was clearly some form of settlement here prior to the Victorian period, as no one in their right mind is going to carry around 150 year old pottery to throw in a reservoir. Alright, I might… but most people don’t. So this material has to be from an 18th century dump of some form… but from where. Studying a map of Vale House prior to flooding shows clearly the mill complex and all the houses.

I love playing around with Microsoft Paint!

Circled in red is the rough location of where the pottery was found. But here, in the green triangle, is an odd looking group of buildings. Set apart and in its own land, it looks like the standard farming hamlet for this area, made up of the farm building, outbuildings, and farm worker’s cottages. And in Bagshaw’s Directory for Cheshire dated 1850, we read of Joseph Roe, Farmer, Vale House Farm. Even the name ‘Vale House’ suggests a house of some importance. I wonder if, as so often happens, the local big house or manor house became less important over time and ended up as simply Vale House Farm. If so, then this might explain the 17th – 18th century pottery, and given that it’s made up of several different domestic vessels, suggests strongly that this is the midden, or rubbish dump, associated with the farmhouse. All we have to do now is wait for another drought and we can see what else is buried there.

Valehouse Reservoir today. Somewhere in the middle of that photograph, below the water, lies the remains of a 17th century farmhouse.

Hope you enjoyed this weeks romp around with pottery… let me know what you think, anything at all, even to tell me I’m wrong about the stoneware base (I’m not… it’s my site, and therefore I’m always right!). Also, if you have any pottery that you want me to look at… just don’t tell Mrs Hamnett.

Next month, we have a very interesting tale to tell… more of that later. For now, take care of yourselves and others, and until then, I remain.

Your humble servant,

RH

Mason's Marks

Mason’s Marks and Apotropaia

I love that word… but more about it in a bit.

I went for a walk with some friends a few weeks ago, from Old Glossop to the New Lamp pub in Hadfield, via Valehouse Reservoir and the Longdendale Trail. It runs along the old Woodhead Line train track there from Hadfield Station to the Woodhead Tunnel entrance. All the way along it you can see evidence of its former existence – signal cable carriers, track equipment, assorted bits and pieces, and bridges.

As I passed under one bridge (the Padfield Main Road) I glanced up and saw this.

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Fantastic Victorian stonework on the Padfield Main Road bridge – 1840ish in date.

well, more specifically, this bit.

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Close-up, but rather awful quality… I need a decent camera with a zoom lens.

High up and hidden amongst the stonework were a number of mason’s marks. Awesome, thought I.

It’s here on the map.

Bridge map
Bottom red circle is Hadfield Station, the top red circle is where the mason’s marks are. This is from the 1968 1:2500 OS map, via old-maps.co.uk. Thanks, again!

Mason’s marks are a really fascinating aspect of stone masonry. Essentially, the stone masons were paid by the piece – the more they carved, the more they got paid, and in order to make sure they they got paid for the correct number of stones worked on, each mason signed their piece with their individual mark. It also acted as a form of quality control – if a piece of stone was not up to scratch, the master mason could see at a glance who carved it. This concept of signing your work had been going on since the Medieval period, and continues to this day. It’s not often you get to see them, as more often than not they are on the reverse of the stone, hidden within the fabric of the building. But here, for some reason, a group of masons (I count three different marks, but with perhaps another three possibles) decided to display their signs. Still, nice to see these out in the open.

Imagine my surprise, then, when we decided to go through an underpass, underneath the old track bed, and head down to the reservoir at this location, here:

Blimey!
Bottom red circle is the bridge with the mason’s marks, the top red circle is the underpass. This is the same map as above, just further down the track/footpath.

Wow… just wow. A grotto of mason’s marks. Quite literally, every stone was covered in mason’s marks, all of them. Outside and inside… amazing.

x1

x2

x3

x4

x5

x6

x8
This is the roof… honestly, every stone is marked.

x7

It is wonderful!

Now, I’m not sure why there is this cluster of marks on this specific underpass. Perhaps they were allowed to go wild and leave their marks in the open in this one place. Or perhaps, there was a competition between two rival gangs of stonemasons, each working to complete the stones fastest. I simply don’t know.

I have made a list of the mason’s marks.

Marks
These are the mason’s marks on the wall of the underpass.

The mark bottom right is probably a square and compass symbol – both tools are used by stone masons. It is also a symbol used in Freemasonry, which takes a lot of its signs and symbols from stonemasonry.

It would be interesting to compare them with others on the Longdendale line, to see where else these men were working here. Also, as they would be itinerant stone masons, travelling where the work is, we could compare them with others further afield. After all they are a signature, and whilst we may not know their names as such, they left their mark on our landscape. They don’t seem to match those on the bridge, though it’s difficult to make out. There have been attempts to create a database of masons marks, particularly those from the medieval period in the catherdrals. However, whilst at first glance this seems a great idea, there is flaw in the plan: there are a finite number of marks you can make with a chisel and using only straight lines. It was found that many marks were reused by different masons, sometimes separated by centuries. There is something deeply interesting about mason’s marks, though, and some are more interesting than others… Looking back at the bridge mark, I was struck immediately by the ‘M’ mark.

Apotropaia. From the Greek, apotropos, meaning literally ‘to turn away’, and more specifically in this case, to turn away or prevent evil.

People have always used signs and symbols to act as magic charms to stop bad things, and bad people, from affecting them. Apotropaic marks became very common in the 16th-18th centuries, and any domestic dwelling of the period would have had these marks carved literally into the frame of the house. At this time, the reality of evil was not questioned, and people intent on causing you damage and sickness – witches – were a real threat and believed in utterly. Indeed, the marks are sometimes referred to as “witch marks”, and have only recently begun to be researched. I can almost guarantee that any timber framed house from the period will contain at least a few. Often they are placed by windows, doors, and fireplaces – essentially, any opening, anywhere that a witch, ghost, devil, or other evil thing might gain access to the house. The marks take many different forms, but two of the most common are the ‘daisy wheel‘ mark – usually carved into stone or wood with a compass…

dw
The Daisy Wheel or Hexafoil mark – the idea is the evil/witch would get stuck in the wheel, and be trapped for eternity.

…and the ‘double V’ sign. This latter is very interesting; it is largely understood as standing for ‘Virgo Virginum’ – the Virgin of Virgins, or the Virgin Mary, and may be seen as a plea for her help.

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The double V mark, or Virgo Virginum. Photo taken from here. Thanks to another really interesting blog.

Now, given that the marks are occurring at a time when it was illegal and/or extremely dangerous to be a Catholic, it is unclear what is happening here. Either we are seeing an underground following of Roman Catholicism amongst the population, which is very unlikely. Or more probably, it represents a popular belief or superstition that, whilst nodding to the Virgin Mary, is just understood as a protective symbol, without the trappings of Catholicism that would mean you were burnt at the stake. Essentially, by the 1600’s, people no longer understood the more religious meaning of the symbol, but carried on the use of it as a form of protection.

As further evidence of this, it is often found inverted, as an ‘M’, not a ‘W’. The letters are not important, the shape of the lines is.

witches+symbols
W or M, the meaning is the same.

Which brings us back to the bridge mason’s mark

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Is the mason: a) A catholic, proclaiming his faith, and marking his work thus? b) Aware of the ‘good luck’ aspect of the sign, but has no idea of its origins? c) A mason who is using it solely as his mark, with no understanding of the meaning beyond its shape?

Personally, I’m going with b, but with a small dash of c.

There is so much more to be said about this subject, it is really a genuinely remarkable field of research (and one in which I am involved), and as it is just emerging as worth studying, I urge all of you to keep an eye out for any marks on buildings, especially internally, and particularly if they are built before 1850.

Right, I have a glass of wine waiting for me, so cheers. And next time, I think some more pottery is in order. Oh, and apologies for the long post, again.

RH