Whitfield Cross. An odd name for a road that doesn’t have a cross on it.
Leading from Gladstone Street up to Hague Street/Cliffe Road, the road takes you past Whitfield Wells, and into the heart of the Whitfield Conservation Area. I lived on King Street for a number of years, and regularly walked up and down the street, without really noticing the name beyond “hmmm, I bet there was cross here at some stage”.

However, whilst delving into the history of the area, I came across an article by the marvellous Robert Hamnett (my namesake) entitled “Botanical Ramble to Moorfield”, dated to about 1890. There is not much botany, but it is a goldmine of local history. You can read the article in PDF form here via the scanned scrapbooks of the New Mills History Society – they have a whole bunch of them to ready to read, all from the late 19th and early 20th century, and all history local to New Mills and surrounding areas, including Glossop. But I digress…

As I read the article my jaw dropped. I repeat the relevant chapter here in full as it is full of great language, some of which might need explaining.

“In the latter part of the last century the Cross Cliffe lads planned and partially carried out what was to them a most daring and audacious deed. One ” Mischief Night,” the eve of the first of May, it was resolved to steal the Whitfield cross. In the depth of night, when all was quiet, and the Whitfield lads were slumbering or dreaming of their “May birch”, the Cross Cliffe invaders came and detached a portion of the cross. With secrecy, care, and much labour, it was conveyed away nearly to its projected destination, but the exertions required for the nefarious deed had been under estimated, their previous work in removing all articles left carelessly in the yards or at the back doors of the good people of Cross Cliffe and neighbourhood, such as clothes lines, props, buckets, etc., etc., to their “May birch” had already taken much of their energy out of them, and, coupled with the steepness of the ascent to the “Top o’ th’ Cross,” distance and roughness of the road to Cross Cliffe, and the weight of the stone, they were reluctantly obliged to abandon their “loot” in the last field near to the pre-arranged destination. What the feelings were of the Whitfield lads on discovering the desecration and loss of a portion of their cross can be better imagined than described. The stolen portion remained in the field for some years. Mr Joseph Hague, of Park Hall, was solicited to restore the cross to its original form and position, but being imbued with a little Puritanism, he refused, and the other portions gradually disappeared until there is nothing left of the Whitfield Cross, except the stolen portion, which is now part and parcel of a stile in a field at Cross Cliffe, where the then tenant of the field placed it, over a century ago.”

“Blimey!”, thought I!

Date wise, the removal of the cross would have been 1790 or so. I find it interesting that the boys of Crosse Cliffe carried half a metric ton of stone for a prank… no wonder they left it a short distance from where it originally stood. An interesting bit of trivia here, though; in the northern counties of Yorkshire, Lancashire, Derbyshire, and Cheshire, Mischief Night was on May Eve rather than November 4th as it is now. How and why it switched, no one knows, but I can remember my father telling me about it (born in 1942 in Macclesfield), as well as my grandfather (born in 1909 in Blackley). A little research on the internet repays a lot of information about this, though curiously not the origin of the phrase “May birch”, meaning a prank, which I can find no reference to anywhere else.

So there the cross sits still, passed each day by dozens of dog walkers and hikers.

Upon reading this passage I quite literally ran out and had a look around, but, not knowing exactly where it was (and it is not marked on any OS Map that I have seen), I drew a blank. Weeks later, walking for pleasure rather than exploring, I walked along the right path, and the cross hoved into view.

And it really is unmistakable.

Technically, it is a 9th Century Mercian Round Shaft. That is, it is Anglo-Saxon in origin, carved and placed sometime between 800 and 900AD, and is of a type that is only found in this relatively small geographical area, the kingdon of Mercia. I say ‘this’ area, but technically we are living in the land of the Pecsaetan – the peak dewllers – an independent tribe until they merged with the Mercians prior to the invasion of 1066. Crosses normally have square or rectangular shafts, but the Round Shaft are characterised by an almost pot-bellied round shape, and the very characteristic band around the neck below the cross itself. Sometimes the shafts are decorated, but more often they are plain, as is our cross. Originally, it would have had a simple cross form on the top, just above the collar, and this as well as the neck, could sometimes decorated in panels. There are a few other examples of the round shaft in the area, but the closest are Robin Hood’s Picking Rods (which will be the subject of a future post).

Hamnett suggests that the original location for our cross was at the Whitfield Wells, and the early maps show an area set back from the road that would work. However, it would make more sense for the cross to have stood at the top of Whitfield Cross (the road) as crosses of this sort usually mark road junctions. Here, there is the meeting of three (then) important roads.

The old pack horse route comes from the south (Peak Forest, Buxton, and Chesterfield) through Gnat Hole, along Hague Street, through to the appropriately named Cross Cliffe, down to Old Glossop (for local traffic – the market and the parish church on Sundays), and on to Woodhead (and Yorkshire beyond, for commercial traffic). The stone would have marked the junction of the track that went along Whitfield Cross, Freetown, Hollincross Lane (Holy Cross? A cross standing by, or covered in, Holly?), Slatelands, and onto Simmondley and beyond. There was another spur coming out along what is now Gladstone Street, leading to that area of the town, and again onto Woodhead.

As we can see in the top photograph, the height of the land on either side of Whitfield Cross (the road) is surely testament to the age of the trackway, it being worn down to its present depth by millennia of use.

Neville Sharpe in his masterful study Stone Crosses of the Peak District notes that there are several large pieces of large built into the wall at the junction that could have formed the cross base. Closer inspection reveals numerous stones that have been re-used in the wall, several of which could be related to the cross, but without dismantling it in search of sockets, we can’t be certain.

According to Sharpe, John Nelson, an assistant to John Wesley, preached at the cross in the mid 1700’s. This is very typical of the Wesleyan way – preaching outside and using a local landmark – and I’m surprised that Wesley himself didn’t preach here, given his activities in and love for the area. Alas, there is no mention of this is his diaries. There is a very interesting piece about the history of Methodism in the area, including a biography of Nelson, here.

I wonder how many of those dog walkers and hikers are aware of what it is they are passing by when they use that stile? Seriously though, I urge you to go and see it – it is truly a remarkable piece of history, and one that deserves a better fate than is currently befalling it.

I have a big idea about the cross! I would love to see it restored to its original site, or better yet, outside the Whitfield Wells, with a little placard explaining the history of both. The setting is perfect, and it would surely be a fantastic companion to the wells, particularly when dressed. Although in the infant stages, I am exploring possibilities… watch this space.