Archaeology · Pottery · Whitfield

Whitfield Green Wondering

What ho! Fancy meeting you all here…

Happy summer everyone! I hope the season finds you in good form… or at least not in actively terrible form. Having recently celebrated a somewhat significant birthday with a trip to Naples area – Pompeii and Herculaneum included – I returned exhausted, and filled to the gunwales with pizza, wonderful wine, and archaeology, which pretty much sums up my life, to be fair. I can heartily recommend such a trip, although it was a tad expensive, and I can now only just about afford to camp in my own garden!

Whilst I was there, I actually wrote a blog post about a Wander to the beach I made, and that I thought you might enjoy; this was meant to be it. But I haven’t finished it yet, obviously, and so we have to remain close to home today. I mean, it’s not quite as glamorous as Pompeii or the Bay of Naples, but Whitfield is just as interesting. Kind of.

Anyway, I’ve often wondered about this place – Whitfield Green – a farm that is marked on older maps, but which is clearly no longer there.

For the sake of orientation, Whitfield Green is in green, The Beehive is just off the map, but indicated by the top arrow, and Derbyshire Level is indicated by the other arrow.

I mean, the building is clearly old, and is clearly marked Whitfield Green, but I can find absolutely no information out about the place. So I went exploring…

Firstly, the roads. The whole area around Derbyshire Level and Lean Town has been monkeyed with following the Whitfield Enclosure of 1813, so it is sometimes difficult to see exactly what went where before that point. Map work and physical walking helps, and it seems the road originally went along the lines of the red line in the map below – it continuing straight at Lane Ends Farm, instead of kinking left as it does now, and continues to Whitfield Green, thus:

You can see a hollow where the field edge is now, and it is visible on LIDAR.

The site of Whitfield Green is indicated by the red arrow, and the hollow trackway – now a hedge and fence – is indicated by the green arrow.

From here (with numerous branches, and marked in red below), this track would go under Lean Town, and then onto Gnat Hole, and then to Chunal – unbelievably, it was once the main route from Glossop and Whitfield to the south – Buxton, Chapel en le Frith, etc.! However, when the Enclosures happened, one of the stipulations in the act of parliament was the building of wide solid roads – hence we have Derbyshire Level, which, whilst incorporating numerous existing routes, was a totally new road – no wonder when you look at state of the roads at that point. In fact, so bad were the roads that Glossop historian Ralph Bernard Robinson, writing in 1863, noted that

“Glossop, till a comparatively recent period, was a place difficult of approach, and, in some circumstances almost impassable, owing to the nature of the roads. They seem to have no roads but such as the Romans, ages before, had made for them.”

This paints a very different picture of this area of Whitfield, and makes it seem that Whitfield Green was more than simply a farm in the middle of nowhere. I wonder.

So it is at this point, with the radical shake up of the roads that followed the Enclosure Act, that many of the trackways with which I am obsessed become obsolete, and so it is with the red trackway, the access track to Whitfield Green – it simple ceases to be needed as the new road that goes down to Lean Town was made, and a new access track came off it. This is the footpath you now walk down in order to get to where Whitfield Green once stood (marked in green in the map above). Kidd Road was once known as Whitfield Green Road, and actually, I suspect that it once went across the field and that this ‘new’ access path is in fact the old route preserved, once the whole area had been monkeyed with (marked in blue, above).

Indeed, Derbyshire Level, and the spur around Moorfield, combined with the Turnpike Road (Charlestown Road) meant that there were now new solid roads along which to travel, and thus the old muddy route below Lean Town and through Gnat Hole was no longer used, and the whole became footpaths. It also meant that new farms could be built, and it is at this point that I think Whitfield Green Farm was built, just to the north of Whitfield Green (circled in yellow above). It is still there, but is very difficult to see without being arrested for “acting suspiciously near an innocent person’s house”… again. It has a stone roof (so making pre-1850ish), but there is nothing that points to it being older that the first half of the 19th century, and I suspect that once the new Lean Town road was made in 1820, someone took the opportunity to build a new farm there.

We know Whitfield Green was there in the 1920’s, but no longer appears on maps from the 1960’s onwards, so presumably it was demolished between those dates. A pity, but there you go, such is the nature of progress. Thus, the timeline seems to be:

1720 (ish – maybe before, maybe after) – Whitfield Green built on existing track (in red), and also accessed via another track (Kidd Road, in blue)

1806 – Lean Town built on the same (red) trackway

1810-13 – Whitfield Enclosure Act, and thus…

1820 – New roads made, including Lean Town road, and access to Whitfield Green comes from that now (albeit via an existing track).

1825 (ish) – Whitfield Green Farm (the new one) built (in yellow)

1950 (ish) – Whitfield Green demolished

That seems to tally with what we know, but if you think differently, let me know – click the ‘contact’ button at the top, or leave a comment… I’m always happy to hear from you.

So what did I find when I went to look at where Whitfield Green once stood, I hear you ask. Well, I’m glad you asked, because I found:

A stone stile. Lots of the paths around here have these, presumably to prevent anything other than foot traffic from using them. I wonder if they were put in when the newer – and toll paying – roads were created in order to stop packhorse trains using them. There are different types too, and I wonder if they were put in at different times.
Here’s where the Whitfield Green once stood, against this hedge line. Nowt there now.

However, look closer and…

Shaped stones in-situ. These have not been moved into this position, this is where they were, and are the remains of the farmhouse… although what part is unclear.
And here is a stone-flagged floor. I wonder who – apart from the current farmer and their cows – stood on these last? They have to have been internal, so a part of the farmhouse proper, rather than the yard outside. Hmmm…
More stonework; in the world of archaeology, 3 stones in a row make a wall, so…
There’s also a huge pile of stone nearby, and whilst not a large farm’s worth of walling, I assume most of the rubble would have been re-used as drystone walling.
And a lot of it has been shaped, and rather than it being the product of a removed drystone wall… we are looking at the remains of a farmhouse.

It was the flagged floor that really brought it home that this was actually once a house; I love that moment when archaeology meets actual lived life; spooky, yet intimate, an odd feeling. It would be great to have a proper scrape around and uncover more of whatever remains.

And pray what, if anything, did you find there, you strange, pottery obsessed, person, you? Well, I’m glad you asked that, too:

The expected ‘noise’ of Victorian pottery – Blue and White Transfer Printed, mainly (with some black printed), as well as one sherd of ‘Flow Blue’, and a possible sherd of Shell Edged.
Left is a wonderful bird; Victorian, and not at all rare, but the phoenix-like image is lovely. Right is an odd one – moulded, so the decoration in 3d, it is highlighted in both underglaze (blue) and over glaze (green). Again, not rare, but not commonly encountered… and nice.
Clay pipes… the cigarette butt of the Victorian period! I love them, but honestly… Stems and a bit of a bowl, nothing particularly interesting, although…
…the bowl has burn marks on the inside, evidence of the last drag!
Left – 3 sherds of Industrial Slipware (1800-1900) – almost certainly bowls; right is a sherd of a Victorian ‘Brown Betty‘ teapot, still made if you feel the need (I do!).
Top from a Victorian blacking bottle.

So far, so Victorian. However, against this background there were several sherds of older pottery lying around:

Early 18th century Staffordshire Slipware platter – roughly 1700-1740. The underside shows a slight red slip, and a line made in the clay during manufacture, possibly the result of moving the leather hard pot – pre-fired – over a rough surface.

Then there is this lovely thing, and I am aware that ‘lovely’ is an entirely subjective concept.

Lovely… honestly!

It’s the wide strap handle to a large cooking pot – this sort of thing:

Taken from here

The fabric is unusual, though – very hard, with a purple colour, and a black and white mixture of inclusions – it’s a sort of Midland Purpleware, almost Cistercian Ware, and not at all like the normal Black Glazed stuff that you associate with Pancheons. Lovely stuff.

Also, there is the brown stoneware. Some Victorian Derbyshire Stoneware, but also early 18th century Nottingham Stoneware:

The two handle fragments at the top probably come from a tankard, again early-mid 18th century, and the bottom left bit I think comes from a bottle. The sherd in the centre come from a strange shaped lid… I think. It’s odd.

And finally, I found this:

A ‘Tombac’ button; Tombac is an alloy that has a high copper content (80-95%) mixed with zinc.

Shiny (though sadly scratched), it still has the silver looking surface – which it was designed to do – and is a lovely thing to hold… that personal touch, again (you can see a better preserved example here). The back shows signs of it breaking down (the green bloom of copper), but also the reddish iron rust of where the loop that once held it in place was. This button is nothing special as such, it is plain, and of relatively poor quality, but it is dateable as Tombac plain buttons such as these were used from mid-18th century onwards (stopping perhaps late 19th). I love this thing… so intimate. Did it belong to someone who lived on the farm? Perhaps.

So there we have it… the farm. As to what it looked like – well I have found no photographs, but I would suggest it looks like this farmhouse on Hague Street; it’s about the right age, and has a similar layout/shape – although Whitfield Green is larger – and is also divided into two dwellings. Interestingly, they both face south-west. I hadn’t noticed before putting them on the page, but it makes sense as it maximises sunlight, and thus light in general.

Left is the Hague Road farmhouse, right is Whitfield Green, from the 1:500 town map, and stolen shamelessly from the NLS website.

There is no information in any of the usual books, and there are only a few references to it online. According to the ever wonderful and always useful GJH website, a Robert Wood, born in 1713, is described as being of Whitfield Green, as indeed is his son. So we know that by 1740 or so? the farm is there, and it suggests that the name of the farm is simply Whitfield Green, and that the later building took the name Whitfield Green Farm to distinguish it. There are later references, but this seems to be the earliest, and thus we have the name of someone who may have walked on those flags, and who may even have worn the button.

Well, that’s your lot for this month. I’ll try and get round to posting another one if I can – more pottery, obviously (ignoring the groans).

It was just lying on the surface of the track… a gift if you will.

Its from a cup or tankard, and dates to the last part of the 17th century or early 18th, so within the range of our building. Or perhaps we should revise the date back a bit? Certainly the late 17th century saw a lot of building work in the Glossop area, as a glance at the Datestone post will show you. Again, a little excavation (or a photograph!) would show us a bit more.

In other news, the new Where/When will be out soon – more info when it happens, but this one is a truly awesome Wander around Mellor – just over yonder! It has medieval field systems and farms, Victorian noise, Iron Age hill fort, medieval crosses, cracking views, a terrifying viaduct, bench marks, a trig point, wonderful gateposts, and it starts and finishes at a pub… what’s not to love? Here’s the cover to tempt you.

Righty ho, I’m off. I have housework to do before I’m allowed a glass of the stuff that cheers – Mrs CG’s rules, which I can’t help feel is unfair… into every life a drop of rain must fall, and all that.

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

Your humble servant,

TCG

Archaeology · Bench Marks · Graffiti · Standing Stones

Gateposts

What ho, lovely people of the blog world. I hope you are all well as we hurtle headlong into summer, each of us fearing what terrible weather will mar an otherwise splendid season. Nevermind, this too shall pass and all that, and indeed we must grasp the nettle by the horns, or something, and make H whilst the S shines…

Today’s post is one of those brought about by happy coincidence, where a series of events conspire, almost waving at you, until you finally notice and say, loudly, “what ho… a blog post!” Or, in this case, a Gate Post. The first event was posting a few photographs on Twitter and Instagram (@roberthamnett on Twitter, and @timcampbellgreen on Instagram, for those of you who might fancy checking it out). Turns out I’m not the only one who likes a good gatepost or two. And then the next event was my seeing a tiny piece of metal in the soil whilst doing a recce for a Where/When (No.7, to be precise… Of Forts and Crosses: A Mellor Wander). All will become clear, honestly.

For years now I have been obsessed with gateposts. Mundane, utilitarian, and always overlooked, a good gatepost can be as interesting as a prehistoric standing stone to me, and truthfully, there is often very little difference: both made of stone, both standing upright, both important in the past, and also in the present. And if anything, gateposts have more interesting features! I mean, obviously prehistoric is fascinating, but they don’t really give us much to go on, whereas the later gateposts… well, read on.

They can be decorated – often just roughly dressed.

A simple rough dressing, to shape it in a uniform manner.

But sometimes some thought has gone into them, to create a pleasant design – which for a utilitarian functional object seemingly goes beyond what is needed.

A simple cross, surrounded by a border. I say simple… it takes some doing.

I mean, the only time you see the gateposts is when you are opening a gate to let sheep or cattle in and out, and it’s probably not something you’d see everyday. And even if you did, it’s only for a moment or two, it frankly doesn’t matter if it looks good, and I doubt farmers are wandering around making snarky comments about the plain decoration of another farmer’s gateposts. So why? What is the purpose behind them? I don’t mean they had some sort of secret meaning behind the decoration, rather they simply represent someone’s choices, but why those choices I wonder? Possibly it’s probably more to do with pride in the work taken by the stonemason who shaped it, perhaps a form of identifier: we know it’s person X who shaped it, as he always decorated it with a cross. But then there are those that go beyond simple decoration, and instead turn it into a work of art.

This is wonderful! The way it shifts from the upper band with a circular motif, to the lower aspect with the herringbone pattern is amazing. A lot of effort went into this.
This too, is truly wonderful. The circular motif, with a border, is just amazing. This post seems to be in the reddish Cheshire sandstone, which makes sense given that it, and the last gatepost was found in the Mellor area, rather than Glossop.

Other times, we find words and dates on gateposts. Often these are faded and barely legible, the weather and environment are not kind to these solid sentinels, and they have no shelter.

‘1856’, on the track from Fieldhead Farm to Whitfield Cross.
I went all arty with this shot… I’m quite proud of it! ‘1874’ in a very similar hand to that of the above gatepost – I wonder if it was the same person? This is on Kidd Road, just before its junction with Derbyshire Level.
Multiple ‘B’, ‘D’, and ‘O’ – from a post just by Fieldhead Farm.

The Ordnance Survey often use them to carry benchmarks – after all they’re not likely to be moved, and so are a safe and permanent marker for heights above sea level.

The line above the arrow is 682 ft above sea level, precisely.
This one is 716ft 2″ above sea level.
I love this photo… the grass almost mirrors the benchmark. Oddly, I don’t have a height for this mark – for some reason, no OS map I have come across shows its existence. Strange.

The fixtures and fittings of gateposts always fascinate me, too. Cast iron hoops and hooks, held in place by the tell tale grey/blue of lead. Sometimes you can only see the lead, the actual latch or pintle missing, it’s function no longer having purpose – it is just now a standing stone.

A now missing something or other, the metals eroding, staining the stone. It can get so bad that it actually kills the moss and lichen.
More something or other, now missing, but once important. The lead fixing is a tell-tale sign that the iron whatjamacallit is missing. I honestly love this, it really does show my theory of objects having a biography.
This is lovely… beautiful cast iron eyelet, twisted and shaped whilst red hot, and then held in place with lead. Although no longer needed to make the gatepost function – the modern steel gate does that (leaving it’s own scars on the stone) – it remains a part of its history.
Multiple phases of use, each leaving a mark.
Again, scars, but once meaning, purpose.
Hand made, and truly wonderful.

It was actually one of the lead fixings that I found that partly inspired this post. I saw what was obviously lead sticking out of the ground, and bending to remove it as I always do – it’s really not good for the environment – I realised it was bigger than I expected. I studied it for a moment trying to work out what it was, when suddenly: “aha” I thought “that’s a fixing“.

You can see rust on the inside, where the iron whatsit was held in place.

Looking at this lump, and using a small diagram, you can see what it is and how it worked. The long hollow through the middle once held the iron fixture – a pintle or latch, perhaps.

The iron whatsit was circular in section.

The shape of the lead piece is also a clue to how it actually held this in place. A hole is made into the side of the gatepost that needs the ironwork on it, with the lower part of the hole made deeper. The ironwork is placed in the hole, and the molten lead poured in using a funnel to hold it within the stone and around the iron whilst it cools.

If this makes sense.

When hardened, it forms a plug that is very difficult to move, keeping the iron work in place; clever, and elegantly simple. It’s also nice to see the ‘inside’ of the gatepost, or rather a cast of the inside, and one wonders why the lead has come away so intact from its original home – one can only imagine that the post itself was broken, freeing this fixing, which then found itself at my feet in the wilds of Derbyshire years later.

In terms of dates for these gateposts – well, it’s not clear. I think the more uniform stones, with a rounded head, are Georgian and Victorian – later 18th and 19th century. However, there are some that I think are significantly older – 17th, 16th, even 15th century, possibly. These are generally less formally worked, are shorter, and importantly are characterised by having a single straight hole through the stone a few feet above the ground.

Another arty shot, this one of the ancient gatepost on Hague Street.
Carrhouse Lane, Whitfield. And no, I didn’t stick my hand in the hole…

I was, until fairly recently, convinced that these were marker stones for trackways, the square hole perhaps taking a wooden pointer. However, I started to notice that this didn’t always fit the pattern, and despite multiple blog articles, twitter posts, and it even published in Where/When, I began to doubt this explanation. I then received an email that pretty much confirmed it for me (thank you PB, you amazing man!). In it, the author quoted a John Farey, whose 1815 book – General View of the Agriculture and Minerals of Derbyshire: With Observations on the Means of Their Improvement. Drawn Up for the Consideration of the Board of Agrigulture [sic] and Internal Improvement – gave the following quote:

Anciently, the Gates in the Peak Hundreds were formed and hung without any iron-work, even nails, as I have been told; and some yet remain in Birchover and other places, where no iron-work is used in the hanging: a large mortise-hole is made thro’ the hanging-post, perpendicular to the plane of the Gate, at about four feet and a half high, into which a stout piece of wood is firmly wedged, and projects about twelve inches before the Post; and in this piece of wood, two augur holes are made, to receive the two ends of a tough piece of green Ash or Sallow, which loosely embraces the top of the head of the Gate (formed to a round), in the bow so formed : the bottom of the head of the Gate is formed to a blunt point, which works in a hole made in a stone, set fast in the ground, close to the face of the Post. It is easy to see, by the mortise-holes in all old Gate-Stoops, that this mode of hanging Gates was once general.

Of course, it made sense, despite me banging on about them being marker stones. So, please accept my apologies for this; I am not always correct, and my knowledge is always growing. And thank you PB, who brought this to my attention – this is your discovery, not mine (you can read the book here – P.92 is the quote. There are about 20 of these gatepost types I know of, with many more awaiting discovery. And I actually think these are quite significant, as if we plot their location on a map, we might get a better grip on land use in the pre-industrial period. Marvellous.

I am obsessed with gateposts, and I want you to be, too. Everytime I pass one, I check it out, and often I am rewarded with some nugget of information, graffiti, decoration, or just a blast of the past. Let me know what you find via the contact page, and let’s keep an eye out for those holed ancient stones.

Right, I think that’s all for this month, and lucky you the next post will, I suspect, be a pottery post! Woohoo! I have found lots of cool stuff recently, and it all needs writing about. As always, I have about 30 projects ongoing, not all of which is coming to fruition anytime soon, but some will emerge relatively rapidly – watch this space. In the meantime, do please check out the Etsy store, or the Ko-Fi page – and feel free to buy me a beer coffee, or yourself a copy of Where/When, or even a t-shirt!

But until next time, please do look after yourselves and each other. I know I always say that, but you all matter, and we all need to take better care of each other… the world can be scary place at times, so lets band together and help each other.

And as always, I remain.

Your humble servant,

TCG

Archaeology · Pottery

Tired Pottery!

What Ho, dear and gentle readers!

I am tired. Honestly… I am beaten. Sincere apologies for the lack of activity here recently, but my life is now full, and I am having to do all manner of things in order to just exist! Full-time work at school (where I am Mr, or Dr, CG), volunteering at Cubs (where I am Bagheera, believe it or not), and being a parent (where I am dad – or Fat-Her, as Master CG insists on calling me), plus all manner of adult bollocks, like shopping and housework, get in the way of archaeology. As a consequence, balls that I would normally be easily juggling (and yes, I can juggle, before Mr Shouty-Outy asks) are occasionally dropped. And, as I say… I am tired.

In addition to all that, I occasionally run guided walking tours in the area – essentially a live action version of Where/When, which, depending on your opinion could be a good thing… or a complete nightmare (yes, thank you, Mr SO… we all know which camp you are in). And so it was last Sunday – a Wander happened! A group of wonderful people honoured me by allowing me to bleat on at them about medieval field systems, Anglo-Saxon crosses, Victorian housing, and whatnot for 3 hours as we Wandered from The Beehive in Whitfield to the Bulls Head in Old Glossop. I enjoyed it, and they also seemed to. Well, no one physically assaulted me at least, so I’m chalking that up as a win.

As we were Wandering the track from Pyegrove to Old Glossop, and just after having a mini discussion about finding bits of pottery along here, I found one, then another, that were different from the usual background noise of Victorian stoneware and blue and white. And here, for your delectation, I present them to you.

Sherd 1 – The Brown One

What we have here is a fragment of Nottingham Stoneware, and probably from the rounded belly of a jug or possibly a large ‘loving cup’ with large high handles – certainly something with a thin wall, anyway (it’s just 4mm thick). It has a diameter of c.16cm, and has very characteristic horizontal banding around its belly, engraved using a lathe whilst it was ‘leather hard’ during the drying process, and prior to firing in the kiln. The exterior was slipped in a white mixture, before the whole was covered in a salt glaze and then fired to this lovely warm brown. That stated, it doesn’t have that melted chocolate colour and feel that I associate with earlier examples, so is perhaps late in the Nottingham tradition? I’d say it dates to about 1730, possibly a smidge earlier… maybe 2 smidges.

The exterior surface is smooth – the result of the white slip applied, covering over the natural impurities (different coloured bits) in the clay that are visible in the fabric section (as darker bits against the almost uniform grey), and give it the ‘salt and pepper’ colouring. Also visible are the voids – often long and thin – caused by gases expanding within the clay whilst it is being fired.

These ‘bits’ are also visible on the interior surface, which, along with the fact that this is much rougher than the exterior, suggests that it is a fragment of a jug rather than a ‘Loving Cup’, as this side was clearly never meant to be seen.

The ware type as a whole was discussed in the very first Rough Guide to Pottery back in 1722 2022 (I know, I know… it’s been a while; I’ll finish it soon, honestly), and I genuinely love it. Even the more commonly found Derbyshire Stoneware – the mass-produced Victorian utilitarian stuff – always makes me feel happy when I find it. And yes, I realise this says a lot about me, but, dear reader, I am always honest with you.

Interlude: I wrote that sentence, then read it back. Interesting. As archaeologists – or even as simply interested ‘normal’ people – we don’t often talk about this, the emotional response to finding a broken bit of old pot, the simple, almost childlike, joy in finding. I mean, a lot of people would simply never see it in the ground, walking over it and on. And of those that do, I’d wager a large number would also simply ignore it. Not so us, though. Nope, not us… we few, we happy few, we band of buggered! (apologies to Shakespeare, and my thanks to Whedon). No, we stoop and scoop it up. A little moment of joy, a fragment of history held in our hands, and a connection with the past in the form of decorated clay. It doesn’t matter if it’s the most mundane bit of plate, it’s all wonderful stuff.

Anyway, moving on.

Sherd 2 – The Other Brown One

Alright, so colour choice was not huge in the 18th century! This is a lovely fragment of a Staffordshire Slip Coated pot-bellied mug or perhaps more likely small jug. It has the characteristic dark brown/black exterior, and lovely honey coloured interior.

Interior
Exterior

The colouring here was achieved by giving the exterior a slip of red (just about visible in the section), before the whole lot was glazed. The lead based glaze turns almost black where it covers the red slip, but fires yellow over the pale, un-slipped, interior surface.

A closer look – you can make out the red slip beneath the glaze in the chip, bottom right.

The speckled colouring of the interior surface is the result of the glaze darkening over the inclusions in the clay – probably in this case natural small stones, but also reddish pieces of grog (crushed pottery) added to the clay to improve strength. You can see these bits in the fabric in section:

Originally, it probably looking something like this:

The jug at the back. And yes, I know it’s not the same colour, but the shapes were fairly standard, only the decoration changed – this is in a Slip Trailed decorative style.

Date wise, it is similar to the Stoneware sherd above, but a little earlier – say 1700-1720? Although, potentially, it could be as early as 1650.

The track, as I said, leads from Pyegrove (first mentioned in 1631) to Old Glossop, and was an important route from Hurst (first mentioned in 1550) and Whitfield area at one point, and we may assume it is older than these first mentions. It has seen a lot of people travelling along it, and occasionally people drop things – the things we find.

Incidentally, this trackway is the subject of No.3 of Where/When – Of Hives and Heads – the archaeological and historical Wander from the Beehive to the Bulls Head. If you fancy walking the trackway, follow this link and buy a copy.

As I was writing this blog post, I was taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and was doing a spot of gardening. Digging through the soil, I was keeping an eye open for the Victorian pottery that occasionally pops up to say “what ho!”, and was rewarded by this wonderful sherd:

Nope, not Victorian, but somewhat older – I’d say early 18th century, or perhaps even late 17th at a push. It’s another fragment of Slip Ware, although again without any decoration, and again I think from a jug. The fabric is very similar to the other example, and it too was probably made Staffordshire.

You can see the inclusions clearly-ish.

It makes a nice change to find this instead of the normal Blue and White stuff, although where it came from, who knows. Whitfield is very old, as you know, gentle readers, so perhaps one of the houses that were here before the Victorian building boom utterly changed this once quiet rural place. Oh how I would love to have a Wander around 17th/18th century Whitfield.

And on that subject – Wanderings – the newest edition of Where/When is on sale as we speak:

An exploration of the Longdendale Trail from Hadfield (The Palatine) to the tunnel entrances – £5 from the above link, or pop into Dark Peak Books on High Street West. I’m also planning a series of other Wanders over the summer (watch this space) as well as some other interesting stuff – talks and the like.

More to follow later in the month (I hope), but for now, look after yourselves and each other, and I remain. Your humble servant,

TCG.

Archaeology · Pottery · Whitfield

Friends… and Neighbours

What ho you lovely people!

I trust you are all recovering from reading the mighty publishing phenomena that is Where/When Issue 1? Move aside JK Rowling… Harry Potter was good, but was it ‘Pottery’ enough? See what I did there? Pottery… Potter…

What? What do you mean “don’t give up the day job”? This is my day job! And you, sir, are frankly uncouth! Honestly, what do you mean there are “funnier types of fungal infection”?

If you haven’t bought a copy yet, go and grab one from Dark Peak Books, or from me, if you can track me down. Or even download a free copy (link above). A perfect stocking filler, even if I do say so myself. Oh, and plans for a second and third edition continue to form… watch this space. Or Twitter. Or Instagram. Or just get in contact!

Anyway, shameless self-promotion over with let’s get on with the show, so to speak.

So, I recently became aware of a group of wonderful people – The Friends of Whitfield Rec and Green Spaces (their Facebook page is here). They are a group of Whitfield residents who are helping with the day-to-day upkeep and improvement of Whitfield Recreation Ground and other green spaces (for example planters, and other bits of land that might otherwise be neglected). A wonderful idea; we who use it, help keep it usable rather than rely just on the council who, with the best will in the world, don’t always the time and resources, or the local connection, to do this. I’m a big and passionate believer in the phrase “be the change you want to see in the world” (a saying usually attributed to Ghandi), and this group is a great example of this in action.

This summer they planted a pile of… er… plants in the grass around Whitfield Wells, improving the look of the area and adding a little wildness – an excellent example of what they do. And a few weeks ago they organised and installed some good looking new benches at the Rec. giving me somewhere new to sit and ponder the world… and my own navel whilst Master C-G and assorted other Herberts run riot.

The eventual idea is to landscape mounds and hedges around them, creating a wonderful usable social space. But back to the present, and the realisation that one cannot make benches without breaking soil – or something – and my spidey-sense began to tingle… do I smell pottery?

I did indeed.

A pile of pottery.

Most of the stuff I found was typical late Victorian and early 20th century tablewares. Not unexpected, and it is largely domestic rubbish, on wasteground, dating from a time when there was no rubbish disposal. Some of the more interesting bits in the above photo, then. Top row, second from right is a shallow bowl or plate with a rim diameter of c.18cm with a hand-painted red band running on the interior – a common motif in early 20th century pottery. Next to that is a fragment of a large rounded jar with a decorated out-turned rim (I should probably start explaining what I mean by all these terms… possibly). And next, a rolled rim from a brown stoneware cooking pot. Bottom row, second from left is a sherd of open pattern spongeware. Fourth from left is a sherd that has decoration hand-painted on the top of the glaze, and the two sherds on the far left are porcelain. As I say, fairly mundane.

However, some pieces were a bit more interesting.

First up, we have a fragment of a Pond’s Cream (or similar skin care product) jar.

Difficult to see in a photo.

It is made from milk glass – an opaque type of coloured glass – and is roughly square shape in plan, with rounded edges and large vertical grooves; it would have looked lovely when whole. It also has a screw top, which generally means it is early 20th century in date.

These three are quite nice, too.

Lovely stuff. And an ok photograph! I had so much trouble taking these – it was so dark even during the day that the pottery was showing out of focus.

Top left, a small plate of Shell Edged Ware, which my own guide suggests is mid Victorian. Bottom left is a hand painted tea cup of c.10cm diameter; it would have been quite lovely. Right is a sherd of Banded or Annular Industrial Slipware, with a rim diameter of c.10cm, and probably from a Late Victorian tankard (they are common in this design), and perhaps, we might speculate, from The Roebuck pub on Whitfield Cross.

These are very nice.

Left is a lovely sherd of Spongeware – a flower from a much larger design. Right is the neck from a Brown Stoneware bottle or jar of some sort. The incised decoration on this sherd is very sharp, indicating that it came from something potentially very fine. Both Early Victorian at a guess, so perhaps heirlooms when they were thrown away, or indicating that there is earlier material in the ground below the Rec. – which would be unsurprising.

I love this next sherd – a ring foot from a larger open bowl or serving platter.

Unassuming, and a little boring at first glance

It looks boring, but is almost certainly early Victorian, and has seen some heavy use, perhaps indicating it too was an heirloom when it was broken and disposed of.

Very diagnostic – wear and glaze.

The wear on the ring foot is clearly visible – it has been moved about a lot – in and out of cast-iron ovens in particular – scraping off the glaze and wearing out the ceramic underneath. Also, note the blue tint to the pooled glaze, indicative of a Pearl Ware, and which was largely unused after about 1850. Knowing this sort of thing is the reason I’m a hit at so many parties… such is the burden of the sherd nerd!

Extreme close up!

Looking at the interior surface you can see many scratches – cut marks made by a knife, probably cutting up meat in the process of serving food. This vessel had seen lots of use before being tossed into what would become the Rec. I love it – the human touch.

Finally, there was this:

No, honest, it’s not just a stone!

It may not look impressive… and to be fair it isn’t. It’s a piece of spent coal – or cinder – and it’s what is left over when you have burnt coal. But it is a hugely significant in that every house would have produced lots of this material, and it should really be seen as a marker of domestic life in the late 19th and early 20th century. I love it for that… not enough to keep it mind, but it is a lovely, if very common, little piece of social history that I wanted to share with you.

So my sincere thanks then to the Friends of Whitfield Rec and Green Spaces for inadvertently sponsoring this month’s post!

Whitfield Recreational Ground has an interesting history – I’m not going to go into it too much as I’m not sure I could do it justice in this article, although it does need doing. Briefly though, Robert Hamnett (the historian) notes that Wood Street – and presumably the whole area – used to be an open field. He states:

“When I first remembered it there was a disused brick yard in the centre, with numerous depressions, which after heavy rain became dangerous to children playing there; in fact there have been cases of children drowning there”.

The whole area was improved and landscaped by George Ollerenshaw in the late 19th and early 20th century. He built the houses on Wood Street, and donated the library building that once stood at the southern end of the park (now the toddler park). His monogrammed initials and date of 1902 are on the Wood Street entrance to the park.

The ‘G’ and ‘O’ monogram of George Ollerenshaw.
1902 – the year the park was opened. I love these, and this entrance – a real faded glory.

Obviously, over the years I have picked up a few bits and pieces from the Rec:

A selection of fairly mundane and entirely expected Victorian pottery.

On the left is a sherd of nice and finely incised Brown Stoneware, probably from a bottle, and possibly early Victorian, as later types are less precise and do away with the incised bits. The middle sherds – one on top of another – are bog-standard Blue and White transfer Printed Ware. The two bits on the right are Salt-Glazed Stoneware, and probably from a ginger beer bottle. Lovely stuff this (and the subject of a future Rough Guide). I also think I can just about make out a smudged fingerprint on the exterior from where the pot was moved whilst the glaze was still wet. Possibly.

Excitingly, we have this:

A close up… perhaps too close?

A clay pipe bowl fragment, with rather lovely fluted decoration – flat panel of gadrooning (don’t say we don’t learn you nuffink on this website… and yes, I didn’t know either, I only learned it accidentally by researching this pipe!). However, nice though it looks, it is roughly made; the seam, where both parts of the mould come together, is coarse and untrimmed, and the clay has been poorly formed in mould. This is mass production in the Victorian period.

And finally, just like the cinder piece above, we have a very mundane but quite important object… a piece of roof slate.

I mean to say… it’s not much to look at.

It really is mundane, but is quite informative. Slate is not local: Wales is it’s origin, and until the railways enabled the movement of relatively heavy fragile material like this, that’s where it would have stayed. Once the railways were established (c.1840’s onwards), it quickly became the roof material of choice – just as strong as local stone, but 20 times the weight. indeed, you can usually date the houses of Glossop to roughly pre- and post-1850 by the roof material: stone vs slate. This slate has a flat smooth edge (at the top in the photo) where it has been shaped, but other than that, it is utterly unremarkable, and it simply exists as a remnant of the 1000’s of houses that once stood very close by but which were pulled down during the rebuild of this area during the 1960’s. Indeed, the roof of the public library that stood here was also slate, so it might be part of that as I found it not 10 feet from where it once stood (underneath the toddler play area).

None of these finds have a context – they are all simply rubbish dumped here mostly when it was an open field and before it was transformed into a park. It’s interesting to ponder that for a moment. The Victorians were awful when it came to litter; everywhere they went they left a trail of pottery, glass, metal, and bone – rubbish all over. Now arguably, these are organic, and are not largely made from toxic oil-based plastics as much of our litter is, so not as ‘bad’. Nonetheless, it is safe to say the Victorians were absolute scumbags, and although some of it will have been picked up, there is still lots to be found. If groups like the Friends of Whitfield Rec and Green Spaces have their way and remove all the litter from these places – and I hope that they/we/you achieve this – then are they doing a future me out of a blog post or two? There may be no rubbish to mudlark/fieldlark and blog about! Unfortunately, the massive amount of plastic rubbish that seems to crop up everywhere you look would indicate that this is not the case, and in 200 years no doubt some sad geeky bloke will be publishing a monthly article on a website, and enthusiastically waxing lyrical about this piece of rubbish or that bit of bottle. Imagine…

Get in contact with the Friends via their Facebook page; help them out, give them ideas, give them time, resources… even a cheer. They really do deserve it for everything they are doing, and attempting to do (read a bit more about them and what they do here). Also, do something simple: pick up a piece of rubbish from the street and put it in the bin – every bit we do, helps the bigger picture. And the future me won’t hold it against you, honestly.

That’s all for now, and it only remains for me to wish you a very merry Christmas whatever you end up doing. Personally, I shall be basking in the glow of a fire with family, some cheese and a large glass of the stuff that cheers. So here’s a health to you all, and I hope you enjoy my favourite ‘modern’ Christmas song.

And/or my favourite more traditional song:

I’ll be back in the new year, but until then, and especially at this time of year, please look after yourselves and each other, but until then, merry Christmas (and a merry solstice).

I remain, your humble servant.

TCG

Domesday Book · History · Medieval · Placenames

Glossop: Places and Dates.

What ho, you wonderful people, you!

I’ll not beat about the bush, let’s get straight to business! Over the past few months, when I had time, I spent some entertaining hours poring over any and all parish and other records relating to Glossop. Not just that, but estate records, royal tax records, and wills too… anything with a place and a date, essentially. I have been trying to establish the first mention of the farms and places that make up what we know as Glossop in order to get a feel for the place in the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries. Why yes, yes I am that interesting.

Parish records were first introduced by law on 5th September 1538. From that point on the details of any event that took place within the church had to be recorded, and thus anyone baptised, married, or buried (hatched, matched, or despatched) were entered into a ledger (here is a good introduction to the subject). The details depended on the event, but it usually included a name, a date, and, crucially for us, a place: e.g. 14th June 1620, Jonah Wagstaffe, son of Charles and Elizabeth of Glossop, was buried.

What follows is an alphabetised list of the locations mentioned in the parish records for Glossop All Saints parish church in Old Glossop. I primarily used the North West Derbyshire Sources site, run by the seemingly unstoppable Marjorie Ward. The website is an absolute goldmine of data for this area, so please do check it out. Also, all credit, and huge thanks, goes to the people who originally transcribed the parish records; it wasn’t me, and all I did was read them and extract some information – I merely stood on the shoulders of giants, to quote Newton (and others).

Glossop’s records don’t go back as far as 1538, sadly, but instead start in 1620. Why this should be is unclear, but it is not the only example from around the country; opposition to the process, a lack of direction, and simple laziness may all have played a part. Because of this, I also looked at any other forms of official records I could find – tax records, wills, land deeds, and what not, to see if I could push some dates back further. I will be adding to these data in future, especially as I come across earlier references to places, so think of this as a work in progress. I have used the modern spelling for the places, but have made a note of different spellings when they appear. Until relatively recently, there was no standardised spelling of words, and placenames in particular were spelled how they sounded, often reflecting the accent of the people, as is the case here (see Coombes and The Heath for good examples of a local accent preserved in the records).

Note that this is simply the first mention of these places, not the date they were founded. This may seem obvious, but it is important to state that many of these places will have been settled for hundreds of years prior to their mention in the Parish Records. This is underlined by looking at how many of the entries have a date of within 20 years of the 1620 commencement of the parish records – it is clear that they didn’t all just pop into existence at that point, and that the first mention of them here is just that. A big boom in the settlement of the area would have commenced in the 1530’s after Glossodale was taken from Basingwerke Abbey and given to the Talbot family – it would be in their interests to get as many rent paying farmers on the land as possible. That stated, the abbey was pretty good at making money and would certainly have encouraged the foundation of farmsteads, thus we can perhaps characterise the period following the relaxation of the forest laws as one of continual expansion.

A note on the sources: PR – Parish Records. Domesday Book – is fairly self explanatory. 1381 Poll Tax – information taken from the book ‘The Poll Taxes of 1377, 1379, and 1381’ by Carolyn Fennick (Glossop only features in the 1381 Poll Tax, oddly). Wills – from the North West Derbyshire Resources website. Kirkpapers of the Kirk family of Glossop and Chapel-en-le-Frith. Datestone – the datestone on the house. EPNS – any of the numerous records used in ‘The Place-Names of Derbyshire Vol. 1’ published by the EPNS. EPNS – Ch – is ‘The Place-Names of Cheshire Vol.1‘. Derbyshire Subsidy Roll 1327-8 (DAJ) – Another poll tax, published in the Derbyshire Archaeological Journal of 1908 (read it here, if you like). Roll of Fines – a list of people fined for offences against the forest, and dated to the 13th year of Edward I (1285), you can read it here (it’s the same source as the Forest Rolls (EPNS), but I have mined some more information that the EPNS left out). Shepherd’s Society – the list of members of that society that met in Glossop and Longdendale (read it here). Shrewsbury Papers – the public record office collection of the Earls of Shrewsbury’s papers (the Talbot family archive, essentially) – here.

PlaceDatePerson NamedNotes & Alternate SpellingsSource
Almans Heath1650 (22/7)Burial of Elizabeth Timplie, widow“Almens Heath”PR
Ashes1674 (12/11)Marriage of William Newton & Mary Newton PR
Bank1668 Bank Farm on ‘The Bonk’Unpublished Ryland’s Charters (EPNS)
Bankwood1717 Hadfield. “The Bankwood” (Gate) (Bankswood)Rylands Charters (EPNS)
Bettenhill1637 (24/3)Burial of Elizabeth Robinson, wife of Robert“Betterside Hill” “Betterside the Hill” “Bettinside Hill”PR
Blackshaw1600Will of Ottiwell Beard of Kynder (John Dande of Blackshaw is witness) Wills. Also the burial of Anna Dande, wife of John 1621 (PR)
Bridgend1598Will of William Barber of The Heath (Robert Bramhall of Bridgend is witness)“Bridgent”Wills. Also, Burial of Ann Brammall 1654 (PR)
Brown Hill1285 “Brunhill”Forest Rolls (EPNS). I’m not convinced, to be honest – Brownhill is a common name, & the physical evidence does not support 1285. Reference to “Sarah Hollinworth alias Brownehill” in 1624 might be this place. Definitely, though, Thomas Garside in 1807 in SS
Castle Hill1692 (2/2)Burial of Edward Hadfield (snr) PR
Charlesworth1086 “Cheuenwrde”Domesday Book
Chunal1086 “Ceolhal”Domesday Book
Cold Harbour1627 (23/5)Marriage of Otwell Clayton & Margaret Downes PR
Coombes1285 “Chiselwrthecumbes” (1285), “Cowmbes”Forest Rolls (EPNS). Also baptism of Anna Bridge, daughter of John 1644 (PR)
Coombes Edge1700Burial of Elizabeth Booth“Colmes Edge” Same as Cown Edge below?PR
Cow Brook1643 (24/3)Baptism of Joshua Dewsnap PR
Cown Edge?1702Baptism of Sarah Booth“Cold Edge” “Coln Edge” PR
Crosscliffe1555Edmund Bower of Whitfield Lease in DRO (D5236/5/27) Also 1608 Calendar Rolls (EPNS)
Deep Clough1285 “Depecloxe” “Dupecloh”Forest Rolls (EPNS). Also baptism of Nicholas Brammall  1620 (PR)
Dinting1086 “Dentinc” (1086), “Dintinge”Domesday Book.
Fieldhead1804Will of George Roberts (mentioned land at ‘Field Heads’ – presumably the same)The position of Fieldhead Farm is literally that, at the head of the ploughed selions, now simply fields. Wills. Also will of Jacob Hollingworth 1845
Gamesley1285 “Gameleslegh”Forest Rolls (EPNS). Also Tax of Jurdan de Gamesley Derbyshire Subsidy Roll 1327-8 (DAJ)
Glossop1086  Domesday Book
Hadfield1086  Domesday Book
Hargate Hill1623 (10/7)Burial of Widow Robinson“Hargatt Hill” “Hargett Hill” “Hardgate Hill (1654)” “Hardgate” might refer to a ‘Hard Road’, i.e. not muddy track. Roman? The road does pass by here.PR
Heath1285John del HeathAlso as “Teathe” (3/11/1658) (PR)Roll of Fines. Also Robert del Heth, Derbyshire Subsidy Roll 1327-8 (DAJ)
Herod Farm1703Datestone
Hilltop1679 (27/7)Burial of John HadfieldCaution… there is also a Hill Top in Chisworth (EPNS).PR
Hobroyd1327Wills de Holberode“Hob Road” “Hobrod” – road rather than royd?Derbyshire Subsidy Roll 1327-8 (DAJ)
Hollinworth Head1546 Hollingworth Head FarmUnpublished documents in the Middleton Collection (EPNS). Also burial of Emmot Taylor, wife of Ralph 1623 (PR)
Hurst1550 “Whitfield Hurst”Feet of Fines (EPNS). Also baptism of Robert Hagh in 1621 (PR)
Hurstnook Farm1772Datestone
Jumble1640 (1/4)Burial of Grace Turner, wife of Reginald“Jomble”PR
Lamyclough1629 (8/12)Burial of William Newton, son of Hugo“Lammanclough” & “Lammeclough” – Charlesworth wayPR
Lane Ends1623 (14/12)Burial of John RobinsonWhitfieldPR
Laneside1625 (14/9)Burial of John Bramall PR
Lee Head1706 (12/1)Burial of Thomas HarrisonCharlesworthPR
Lees Hall1285Jo. de Legh (of Whitfield) (John de Legh) Also Ricardus del Lees 1381 Poll Tax
Little Padfield1711 (5/1)Baptism of Elizabeth Creswick PR
Long Lane1696 (24/6)Burial of ‘Old Widow’ BoedonCharlesworthPR
Long Lee1621 (17/9)Burial of George Hyde PR
Mill Town1643 (27/6)Burial of Margaret Mellor, wife of Ralph PR
Monk’s Road1290 “le Cauce” (The Causeway)Calendar of Charter Rolls (EPNS)
Moorside1616Will of Thomas Hollingworth of Moorside.This may be Moorside in Chisworth, confusingly.Wills. Also burial of Widow Hollinworth 1623 (PR)
Moregate1655 (2/4)Baptism of Helena HadfieldHadfieldPR
Mossy Lea1623 (5/1)Burial of Ellina Hollinworth“Mosseley” & “Moselee”PR
Mouselow1628 (16/11)Baptism of William Newton PR
Over Deep Clough1709 (19/1)Burial of Henry Hadfield PR
Padfield1086 PadefeldDomesday Book
Pike’s Farm1780  Datestone
Priest’s Pastures1616Petition to the King by a “Nicholas Hatfielde”“Prist Pasters” – Padfield somewhere.Shrewsbury Papers, Folio 147 (no date, but the recipient, Gilbert, died in 1616, so before then). Also 1640 (20/2) – Baptism of Anna Hadfield (PR)
Pyegrove1631 (15/1)Burial of Anna Booth, daughter of Ralph & Anna“Pigreave” “Pyegreave”PR
Reaps Farm1631Burial of William Hadfield, son of William & Helen“Reape”PR
Ringstones1623 (13/5)Baptism of Thomas Roobotham PR
Rowarth1285Roger le Ragged de Roworth“Rouworth”Roll of Fines. Also Burial of Elizabeth Goddard, wife of Robert 1626 (PR)
Shaw1285Mathew del Shawe Roll of Fines. Also Henricus del Schawe 1381 Poll Tax
Shelf1285 Possible location of Monastic Grange?Forest Rolls (EPNS).
Shire Hill1285 “Shyrhull”Forest Rolls (EPNS).
Simmondley1285Alward de Symondesly“Symondlee”Roll of Fines. Also Burial of Joanna Beelee, w. of William 1620 (PR)
Spire Hollin1700“Spire Hollin estates” mentioned for sale in D513/M/E/374 with others. Kirk Estate Papers #374. Also 1734 Poll of Derbyshire (EPNS)
Storth1578Harry Booth of Storth Farm, SimmondleyHe had dispute with Lord Talbot & went to London to see Queen Elizabeth I.Historical record. Also Baptism of Joseph Botham, son of Henry & Mary, 1638 (PR)
Top of the Hill1698 (17/6)Baptism of Robert WagstaffeBy RedgatesPR
Torside1621 (16/7)Baptism of Alycia Hadfield“Thorsett”PR
Waterside1710 (19/5)Burial of Ann AlsoppeHadfieldPR
Whitfield1086 “Witfeld”Domesday Book
Whitfield Barn1657Datestone
Whitfield Hough1690Robert Dewsnop of Whitfield Hough Title deed in Dro (D6368/1)
Wimberry Hill1807John Winterbottom“Bilberry Hill”SS
Windy Harbour1683 (11/12)Burial of Thomas Harison“Winde Harbar”PR
Woodcock Road1249 “Wodecokessich” (1249) “Wood Cockrode”, “Cockroode”, & “Cock-Crowd”Calendar of Inquisitions Miscellaneous (EPNS). Also baptism of Joseph Bramall 1628 (PR)
Woodhead1424  Cholmondley Deeds (EPNS – Ch). Also baptism of Anna Bostocke 1629 (PR)
Woodshead1654 (13/9)Baptism of Elizabeth Heawart“Woodsheds” in CharlesworthPR
Wooley (Bridge)1286  Court Rolls (EPNS – Ch)

And there we have it. Obviously buildings within these areas will have separate dates, but overall we can begin to picture Glossop as it was in the medieval and post medieval period.

Visually then, it looks like this:

This is the situation at Domesday – 1086 – with all the names villages marked in red.

By 1285, Glossop looked like this:

The monks of Basingwerk have it, renting it to the Talbot family who are encouraging people to farm, making money for themselves in rent and produce.

By 1450, very little has changed:

Just Hobroyd Farm has been added.

Following the Dissolution of the Monasteries from 1538 onwards, the land becomes the sole property of the Talbots who continue to encourage the founding of farms. Here is the situation by 1620:

The area is becoming filled in.

100 years later, the land is full of smaller farms, all paying rent to the landords, now the Howard family. The explosion in farms may be connected to the Howards drawing up longer rental leases, allowing people to invest in buildings and land not just for themselves, but for their children and grandchildren. Here is the situation in 1720:

Obviously, this is a very broad study – I just want to get the information out there. There is an awful lot more that could be done here, not least of which could be some form of more formal survey of the land deeds. It should also be pointed out that many farms will have disappeared over time, forgotten about or subsumed by larger farms, and what we have here is not a 100% accurate reflection of Glossop, merely a snapshot.

More research is needed indeed… but for now, I’m going to have a snifter of the stuff that cheers.

Right-ho, that’s your lot for this time. Next time I promise more pottery… I know how much you’ve missed it. Until then, take care of yourselves and each other.

And I remain, your humble servant.

TCG

Archaeology · Medieval · Roads · Roman · Simmondley · Whitfield

Field Work

What ho, dear and lovely people, what ho! I trust you are all enjoying the weather as it bounces, somewhat insanely, from parched desert in the midst of an African heatwave to “quick Mrs C-G, gather up two of every animal you can see, whilst I look up ‘How To Build an Ark‘ on YouTube” rainstorms. I mean, it keeps you on your toes, what!

So then, I have recently become obsessed with fields and their shapes, and what they can tell us about the history of Glossop. I know, I know, I really am quite the hit at parties! Indeed, I often hear the phrase “oh great, TCG has arrived!”… it’s nice to be appreciated. As an aside, 7-year-old Master C-G has recently taken to mocking me by asking a question about, for example, pottery, and then interrupting the answer with “wow dad, that’s soooo interesting…” and walking off, before falling down in fits of laughter. I mean to say, that’s a tad off, what? Where’s the blighter’s respect for dearest pater?

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, field shapes and history. So, if you look at any OS map, you’ll see that it is criss-crossed with lines which mark out the boundaries of fields. On the ground and in real life these boundaries are made up of fences, hedges, or, in this part of the world, with drystone walling. It takes time and effort to build these walls, and more time and effort to take them down, which means it doesn’t happen very often. And unless the area has been significantly changed or has been built over completely, the field boundaries you see on the map and on the ground have been there since they were laid out. And here it gets interesting: the way fields were laid out changed over time – their shapes reflecting contemporary farming techniques – and it this which allows us to date them and their associated settlements.

Looking at local examples chronologically then, we start at the beginning. Quite literally. The first farmers – those neolithic & bronze age types who initially took the huge risk to cease the hunter-gatherer nomadic lifestyle, and instead adopt a sedentary one based around agriculture – created the first fields. Evidence from elsewhere suggests that these were not fields as such, more areas of land cleared of trees – a formidable task using only stone or at best bronze tools – and the area cleared of stones to enable to plough to pass. The larger stones are normally found rolled to the edges of the cleared areas, and there are often clearance cairns associated with them – piles of rocks, essentially. There are suggestions of bronze age systems in the area, but nothing even close to definite, and certainly nothing worth describing.

There is a similar situation with the Romano-British field systems, of which there is one possible example, in Whitfield, to the north and south of Kidd Road. These seem to comprise a series of lumps and bumps in the ground that might be the remains of field boundaries, or of terracing on which agriculture took place.

The potential field system is in yellow, the Roman road from Navio is in red. Image stolen and altered from the Derbyshire HER website.

As the Roman road from the fort at Brough (Navio) runs just by there, it would be a good place for a farmstead, and I’m sure more existed nearer Melandra. It’s not terribly inspiring, if I’m honest, but it is interesting, and if it is Romano-British in date (43AD – 410AD, perhaps a little later, too… or possibly a little earlier), then it is proof that people have lived and farmed in Whitfield for over 2000 years. You can read a bit more about it on the Derbyshire Historic Environment Record here, or, the Glossop & Longdendale Archaeological Society website, here.

However, our first definite and recognisable field systems occur in the medieval period.

By 1086, Longdendale and Glossop had been designated Royal Forest, a situation which brought with it all sorts of restrictions for the residents of the seven villages that made up the area at the time of the Domesday Survey: Chunal, Whitfield, Charlesworth, Hadfield, Padfield, Dinting, and Glossop (I’m convinced there was something at Simmondley and Gamesley at the time, but were overlooked or ignored as too small to tax). It was particularly particularly restrictive around land use; the existing villages were allowed to continue, but were not allowed to expand their size in anyway, as this would affect the king’s land, and take food from his deer. That didn’t stop them, though. What few records we have of medieval Glossop make mention of the crime of assarting, that is to cut down trees to enable the land to be used for growing crops or grazing – essentially increasing your land, illegally. For example, in 1285 we find the following:

“The wood of Shelf has been damaged in its underwood to a value of 15 shillings by the villagers of Gloshop, fined 4 shillings, they must answer for 60 oaks”.

The process would have been gradual, and probably done sneakily, perhaps by bribing the forester to look the other way. Or equally, it may have been worth the fine if you can increase your farming lands significantly – an investment of sorts. Given the nature of assarting – essentially picking away a few trees at a time – it often leaves a distinctive field shape: rounded, rather than straight or uneven lines. There is a perfect example of this at Ogden, above Tintwistle:

The two farmsteads of Ogden, both now in ruins. I need to explore up there sometime.

And if we look over at Hargate Hill, between Charlesworth and Simmondley, I think we can see a similar process happening here:

Rounded edges, rather than the more usual straight.

The circular, almost organic growth of the fields can be seen, and it may be this that is referred to in 1285: “The wood of Coumbes (Coombs) has been damaged by the people of Chasseworth (Charlesworth), fined 2 shillings, they must respond for 18 oaks.” This whole area is full of interesting detail. The first mention of Hargate Hill I’m aware of is 1623 (the record of the burial of ‘Widow Robinson’ of Hargate on 10th July, to be precise), but there must have been something there before this date. There is a suspicion that stone from the quarry here was used to build Melandra Roman fort, although how true this is, is not clear, but the settlement is just off the main road between Glossop (via Simmondley) and Charlesworth, which is significant. Importantly, between the road and settlement, there is evidence for Ridge and Furrow ploughing, which is normally medieval in date. You can see it in this LIDAR image:

The ridge & furrow is running roughly north-south from High Lane.

Ridge and furrow is created by ploughing up and down a strip of land using a team of 8 oxen. Now, as you can imagine, 8 oxen are a nightmare to turn, and their size alone means that you have to start the turn very early on in your plough furrow in order to maximize the land use. This creates a distinctive reverse ‘S’ shape to the thin fields – or ‘selions’ – that make up the medieval farm landscape – the result of only being able to turn the oxen to the left (as the medieval farmer used a fixed blade plough share that was positioned on the right). These selions are side by side, with a dip in between (you can just about make out the dips in the above LIDAR image), and made up of rows and rows of ridge and furrow running the length of the selion. A selion normally measured a furlong in length (a ‘furrow long’: some 220 yards) and between 5 and 22 yards wide.

In Whitfield there are many great examples of this classic, and instantly recognisable, early medieval field shape.

Clearly visible, running NW-SE, and on either side of Cliffe Road. There are dozens more in dotted about the area, too.

Hiding in plain sight, the medieval field systems of the 12th & 13th centuries. The fact that they run either side of Cliffe Road is significant: they ‘respect’ the road, which means that the road was there before the selions, as it is highly unlikely a road would be put through arable land. We know this anyway – it was the main road from Glossop to Chapel en le Frith – but it is good to have it confirmed.

What I find amazing me is the sense of continuity of use; the field marked with a red ring in the above map is exactly the field boundary of the Whitfield Allotments, and I wonder how many allotment holders realise their plot of land has been continuously farmed for nearly a millennium. It’s also fascinating to think that although the area has been largely built over, the boundaries of individual modern house plots have used these field boundaries as references, and so the field laid out by a medieval peasant farmer 800 or more years ago has a direct influence on life today. Looking at a tangible history in that way leaves one feeling quite dizzy.

Chunal, first mentioned in the Domesday Book, was an important medieval farmestead.

Chunal is even clearer in its agricultural history, and has evidence of both assarting and the use of Ridge and Furrow on both sides of the road, especially what is hidden beneath the surface now – compare the above map with the LIDAR survey of the same area… huge numbers of selions, all in the classic reverse ‘S’ shape.

The same area scanned with LIDAR. The selions not shown in the above map are very clear.

The quantity of field strips is testament to the relatively large-scale agriculture occurring in this area in the earlier medieval period. Simmondley, too, has a large number to the north and south of Old Lane, which was the original medieval track from Charlesworth via Simmondley to Glossop:

Notice the selions ‘respect’ the original track – Old Lane – they stop at the road, and don’t line up symmetrically on the other side. They are, however, overlain by the New Road which was built, I believe, in the 1860’s. Just as in Cliffe Road in Whitfield, Old Lane must have been there when the selions were laid out, or at the same time, giving us a date for the track.

During the 14th century, however, we see a shift in farming practice, and land use moves away from the ‘open field’ system of strips, and starts to become enclosed by walls. This is probably a result of two critical events. Firstly, the climate starts to get colder, which has a negative impact on the ability to grow crops, and which lead to a series of famines. The second was the emergence of the Black Death which killed off 1/3 of the population during 1348-49. And whilst the Peak District emerged seemingly relatively unscathed, no doubt there was a movement of the population to better arable land that had been abandoned, leading to a population decline. It had also become apparent by the mid century that sheep/wool farming was a lucrative market, and thus increasing amounts of land was blocked off to allow sheep to graze safely. These early enclosures are normally recognisable as non-symmetrical enclosures that have largely straight-ish lines, but aren’t a specific shape. We can see some probable examples to the north of Simmondley New Road, now covered by housing but preserved in the 1892 1:25 inch map:

Simmondley New Road running west-east(ish) replaced Old Lane… the clue is in the names!

If we look closely we can see these early enclosures are made by consolidating and expanding existing selions, as farming practice shifted from arable to livestock. The more you look, the more the medieval and early modern landscape comes to life.

We also encounter them at Gamesley, now also covered by housing, but perhaps originally associated with Lower Gamesley Farm which may have an early foundation date, even if the present building there dates from only the 17th century (only…!). The settlement is first mentioned in 1285, but actually Gamesley is a Saxon name meaning the ‘clearing (or assart) belonging to Gamall’.

Gamesley, to the south of Melandra.

Of course, people needed agricultural produce, and many strips continued to be farmed well into the post-medieval period. Indeed new fields were laid out, although later ridge and furrow is normally straight as, over time, smaller teams of larger oxen were used, and these were eventually replaced altogether by heavy horses.

Our final field type comes at the end of the 18th and early 19th centuries with the parliamentary enclosures. Briefly, open ‘common’ land – poor rough land, owned by the Lord of the Manor, but used by everyone to graze animals or to gather fuel – was parcelled off and sold in lots. On paper, this freed up lots of land and was a boon for farmers who could, with a little improvement, massively increase their lands. But it also meant that the common man lost access to land that his ancestors had legal rights to. Arguably, by the early 19th century there were very few people who would have used the land anyway; not many people had animals to graze, nor did many burn peat as a fuel. The rural way of life, especially in Glossop, was well and truly over and most people lived in stone terraces and worked in mills. But that really isn’t the point! The parcelling up of the land into lots was done drawing lines over maps using rulers… and it shows.

Moorfield is surrounded by fields that are the result of the 1813 Whitfield Enclosure Act.

And elsewhere:

The area to the north of Glossop

Around Lanehead farm, toward Padfield there are clear examples of 19th century enclosure… in fact they are all over Glossopdale – have a look at any map. They often mask earlier field systems and tracks which can be on a different alignment, and a quick scan of the Lidar for the same area reveals all sorts of lumps and bumps:

Lanehead Farm is shown by the orange arrow.

The grey arrows above show older field systems not shown on the map. In the middle of the arrows there is what might be ridge and furrow. A detailed study of the fields on the maps and on the ground, as well as a comparative reading of the lidar could give us huge amounts of information about the past use of the landscape, beyond the obvious parliamentary enclosures.

The lines of these fields are all very straight, and all the walls are of a standard form, and the whole parliamentary enclosure process was completed with characteristic Georgian and Victorian efficiency. But a part of me feels that it is almost an industrialisation of the landscape, a triumph of efficiency over nature. Prior to this, it was a difficult process to carve out a little patch of land to support your family, and it required blood, sweat, and tears. This human, organic, side is etched onto the land – assarting, the reverse ‘S’ shape, even the enclosures for sheep, they all have an element that is dictated to by the land, and all came with effort. To stand over a map with a pen and ruler dividing up the landscape is to have a complete disconnect from it, and is human imposing on it, rather than working within it, and that feels wrong somehow. Anyway, enough of the hippy!

It genuinely is amazing what you can see when you start to study maps, the unexpected can leap out at you. Keep looking, wonderful people, and please mail me with anything you find – I could even make you famous* by publishing it on the website.

*famous to all 11 people who read the website, that is.

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed todays romp around the countryside. I’m planning a few more official Cabinet of Curiosities wanders over the summer, one of which is a jaunt down the medieval and early modern trackways of Whitfield and Glossop via 2 pubs and a pile of history and archaeology… what’s not to love? And all at a bargain price… a man has to eat, after all. Watch this space. Or Twitter. Or Instagram, if I can figure how to use it properly.

Until next time, keep looking down, but also look after yourselves and each other.

I remain, your humble servant,

TCG

Archaeology · History · Whitfield

Datestones

(And apologies to those of you who have ended up on this website expecting to find an informative article on the seed of the Phoenix dactylifera.)

What ho, magnificent readers! I trust you are all rude health as we stumble toward the season of goodwill and whatnot. I love this time of year, when the cold wind blows, and the… What’s that? What do you mean “get on with it!”. Honestly, the nerve of some people.

Righty ho. Datestones. Who doesn’t love a good datestone? I mean, what’s not to love? A little snapshot of the history of a building, a birth certificate if you will, recording both the date of birth, and, if we’re lucky, the parents too.

Normally, though not exclusively, located above the door, these carved stones preserve the date of construction and the initials of the person or family who paid for its construction. The are by and large the reserve of the aspirational ‘middle classes’ of society; the poor man doesn’t build his house, the rich man has a house that speaks for itself. Indeed, it is a statement to others: I have wealth enough to build this house. They seem to become popular in the 17th century, as the ‘yeoman farmer’ becomes a class of person, that is, a person who owns the land they farm. Indeed, it may be a result of that phenomena, a way of setting themselves apart from the simple tenant farmer, who doesn’t own the land he works. Glossop has several 17th century examples remaining, though many more will have been lost, sadly. They do show up, occasionally, as the one found by Glossop Brook at Harehills Park did, and which was saved and cemented into the brook wall. Interestingly, this example also shows that whilst datestones can be a boon to historians, they can also present problems if we are not careful. They can move easily, and be attached to other buildings giving a misleading date, as is the case there, and at Hall Fold Farm. Also, stones can be put in place to commemorate a rebuilding or alteration to an existing building, causing similar, if opposite, problems.

By the Victorian period it was common to put a date and/or name on a house you built, and a careful look at many rows of Victorian terraces around Glossop will reveal names and dates. With that in mind, I have restricted my research to those datestones that carry a date prior to Victoria’s reign, pre-1837. The following is a table of the ones I know about:

There are 28 datestones in the Glossop area (broadly defined), but there will be more lurking that I don’t know about, either attached to the building still, or lying in a garden. This blog post will concentrate on the examples from Whitfield, as it is turning into a much larger post than I had thought. Plus, in the interests of honesty and transparency… I haven’t got photographs of all of them yet!

Whitfield has some of the oldest buildings in the Glossop area, and although not really much of a ‘place’ now – essentially just a ‘suburb’ of Glossop – it was once hugely important, being built along the Chapel en le Frith to Glossop road. It gradually lost it’s importance with the rise of the mills based down in the valley, the economy here being agricultural. Whitfield’s one-time importance means that we find many old buildings and a number of datestones here. Indeed, Whitfield has more old buildings that Old Glossop, which with its Church and market, was the focus of the farmsteads and settlements of Glossodale. However, important places tend to be subject to more intense rebuilding over time, whereas more minor areas maintain their old buildings. I was going to do a distribution map of the old buildings, but changed my mind for that reason. Still, it’s worth noting that Whitfield underwent a bit of a building boom in the mid to late 18th century.

35 Whitfield Cross.

35 Whitfield Cross was built in 1773 as a farmhouse, and is a Grade II listed building – see here for more details. The narrow coursed stonework and stone mullioned windows are typical of the period.

61 Hague Street.

61 Hague Street was also built in 1773, but as a pair of weaver’s cottages, and is also a Grade II listed building. 1773 must have been busy year, and Whitfield was clearly a happening place in the late 18th century. The datestone records the initials R. J. and D. Now, presumably the ‘R’ is the surname (possibly Robinson – the family being quite prominent in Whitfield) with ‘J’ and ‘D’ being the husband and wife who are responsible for the building. I have no information regarding the people, sadly, and any information would be appreciated.

Hob Hill Cottage

Hob Hill Cottage is a remarkable building dating to 1638, making it the second oldest building with a datestone in the Glossop area (after the Bulls Head in Old Glossop, dated 1607). Also built as a farmhouse, and also a Grade II listed building (there’s a theme developing here!), I suspect it might be the source of the lead came and glass, as well as some of the 18th century pottery, I found nearby, although truthfully any one of a number of buildings – existing or long gone – might be the source.

Old School House, Hague Street.

Another Grade II listed building now – the Old School House. Joseph Hague was something of an important man – indeed, the road on which the school (now private residences) sits is named after him. Born in Chunal in 1695, he rose from poverty to amass a fortune selling yarn to weavers and buying back the cloth they produced, to sell on. However, here is not the place for a discussion of his life, or of the school (the Glossop Heritage Trust does that very well here). Let us instead look at the wonderful inscription

“This school was erected and endowed by JOSEPH HAGUE Esquire,
of Park Hall in this Parish as a testimony of Gratitude to
ALMIGHTY GOD for his favour and Blessings through a life of
years whereby he was enabled to accumulate an ample fortune
and make a plentiful Provision for his numerous Relations and
Dependents. Anno Domini 1779.”

I enjoy the slightly boastful “ample fortune“… well, if you have it, why not? The beautiful carved relief plaque of the beehive over the main door – symbol of productivity and hard work – gave inspiration for the name of the pub over the road. The Beehive pub itself is an 18th century building, with a 19th century front added, and another example of the building boom of the 18th century in Whitfield.

Old School House, Hague Street. The beehive carved in relief, surrounded by Sunflowers, and crawling with characterful bees. I love this.
62 Hague Street

Another Grade II listed building, one of several together, and originally built as a ‘laithhouse’, that is a building made up of a house, barn and byre/shippon in one. It is a late example of the type if the date is to be taken at face value, but there you go… this corner of Derbyshire wasn’t exactly at the forefront of architectural fashion. There is also a bit of confusion regarding 62 Hague Street. As it stands now, there is a simple date of ‘1751′ above the door. However, the listing for the Grade II building notes that “No.62 originally had datestone inscribed RMS 1757” (read the full listing here). The present datestone is fairly modern, carved perhaps to replace the missing stone, but it doesn’t explain the difference in date. I thought it worth mentioning for the sake of documentation and completion.

41 – 51 Cliffe Road

So who was Joel Bennett? Born 11 April 1791 to son of George Bennett and Martha Cooper, he came from a large and important local family. He may have been the same Joel Bennet who was excommunicated from Littlemoor Independent Chapel in 1828 for “disorderly walking and impenitency” (source is here). I’m unsure of what is meant here by “disorderly walking”, but given the hotbed of radical religion that was Littlemoor, one assumes it wasn’t the Georgian equivalent of Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Walks. He may also have bought Kinder Lee Mill in Chisworth with his brother James in 1823.

House at the bottom of Cliffe Road (4 Cross Cliff?)

This house, set back from Cross Cliffe almost at the bottom, has a wonderful datestone: stars, wheatsheaves, and a Masonic compass, with the letters ‘R’ ‘R’ ‘O’ and ‘S’. Actually, is that an ‘O’? Or perhaps a flower? I have no information about the place, nor the letters (Robinson again?), and one cannot simply knock on a door and say “What-ho… tell me about your house”. One tends to get stared at, with vague mutterings about “setting the dogs on you”, and “lunatics disturbing the peace”. Alas. If anyone has any information about this house, or indeed any of the houses, drop me a line.

Also, and seriously, if anyone knows of any more datestones that aren’t in the above list, and which date from before 1837, then please let me know. I’ll credit you, too, so you can be famous… to all 11 of you who read the blog (including Juan in Venezuela).

Oh, and some news. I’ve been working on the Glossop Cabinet YouTube account recently, and hopefully will be producing videos of me finding bits and pieces, mudlarking, talking archaeology, exploring, playing with pottery, and much more (can anyone else hear that groaning noise every time I mention pottery?). So if you like the blog, then you’ll love this. I’ll post a link asap.

Also, I’ve recently set up a Ko-Fi account which allows you lucky folk to ‘virtually’ buy me a drink if you wish. There is no pressure to do so, obviously; I do the blog because I enjoy doing it, and am constantly amazed that other people enjoy reading it (which is reward enough, it really is). However, if you do fancy buying me a pint to say cheers, I’ll never say no – please click this link, and mine’s a red.

That’s all for now I think. I’ll post something else before Christmas, possibly pottery related, you lucky lucky people (there’s that noise again). But until then, I remain,

Your humble servant,

RH

Archaeology · Pottery · Whitfield

… And Came Back

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.

Again, quite small and uninspiring.

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.

Lovely 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?

Makes you think.

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

Your humble servant,

RH

Archaeology · Whitfield

Summer Came… and Went

What ho! Hope you are enjoying the summer so far. A quick post today, but more very soon.

So, I know I promised you pottery this time, and I can tell you are wildly disappointed, but this is an interesting bit of history. Honestly. It really is. Don’t just look at the first picture and yawn… Philistines.

There are a number of places around Glossop that never fail to produce some bits and pieces – Lean Town, Harehills, etc. One such place is at the top of Whitfield Avenue. Never lots, but always a sherd or two, and this time a piece of lead. Window lead to be precise.

Lead is one of those substances that is instantly recognisable once you know what it looks like, and can be spotted from quite a distance. It doesn’t rust, or even really react beyond producing a white powder on the surface. It is soft, which means it can get damaged – in particular bent – easily, but it also means that it doesn’t break in the way that pottery or glass does, so it often survives. It is also worth remembering that it is highly toxic, so be careful when you handle it.

Don’t worry, I washed my hands afterwards.

So there it was, lying on the surface of the soil, a dull grey flash exposed after all the rain we have recently suffered. I would have picked it up anyway – I try and do that with lead, as it’s not great in the environment – but I knew at a glance what it was, and was excited as they can be interesting. I was not disappointed.

Window lead, or came as it is more properly known, has been with us for as long as there have been glass windows, and is essentially an elegant solution to a big problem – the fact that it is very difficult and expensive to produce glass in any large size. It is far easier to join together smaller pieces, and this was still the case until the 19th century, and why even early 20th century windows are made up smaller pieces separated by wooden mullions. But the multi-part aspect also allowed works of art to be created in the form of stained glass windows that adorned medieval churches and cathedrals, and is a fashion that continues down to today.

The came works by allowing separate pieces of glass to slot into its grooves, joining them together, with the whole being held in place by the window frame. In profile (that is, cut in half), came is broadly ‘H’ shaped:

A pretty awful drawing, but you get the idea… I hope.

So then, what can we say about this little piece of twisted metal? Well, a surprising amount, to be honest. Firstly, rather than being poured and shaped in a mould, the came has been milled – the lead was drawn through a former by a cog. This means that it is not medieval, but instead puts it into the archaeological ‘misc.’ tray that is ‘Post-Medieval‘ (roughly, after 1500). We can, however, narrow it down a bit; the cog used in the manufacturing process leaves characteristic tooth marks on the interior. As the process was refined and improved over time, these marks grew further apart, and broadly speaking, the closer the teeth, the earlier the date. On our piece of came, they are very close together, and thus an earlier date is suggested.

Teeth marks, where the cog has pulled the came through the former.

This is backed up by the slightly rounded profile, which is also associated with earlier examples. We might suggest a date of perhaps 1700 – 1800, possibly earlier, but unlikely to be later.

Left: the slightly rounded ‘H’ profile, also slightly squashed. Right: the clean cut edge, probably by a knife.

It seems to have been cut cleanly at either end, which means it is the original length, which is significant. It measures just under 6cm, or 2 1/4 inches, so not very long, but a perfect size for the diamond style windows that were common in the 17th and 18th centuries, when whole windows were made up of smaller pieces and joined by the came. Look closely, you can see the tin solder that would have joined it to another lead came piece.

The melted end, but also marks where it was pulled through the former.

Looking even more closely, you can see the putty that would have weather-proofed it still inside the groove.

White putty visible.

Here is a 17th century window:

Typical Tudor & Jacobean diamond pattern window.

And here is our piece of lead in a mocked up window, showing how it would have been used.

Another rather poor drawing, but one hopes you get the idea.

How this piece of lead came came to be lurking in the soil on that rainy day is not certain, but it is in the right place – some of the oldest houses in Whitfield are right there, including Hob Hill Cottage with its datestone of 1638. The came must have originated in one of these houses, and at some stage either window was repaired, or replaced entirely. Indeed, if we look closely, we can see two marks where the lead flange has been lifted away from the glass to remove it.

The lead flange has been peeled back from the glass.

At that point, the lead has been lost or thrown away. I’d love to be able to say for certain which house it came from, and the obvious choice would be Hob Hill Cottage as it is just opposite the find spot, but in reality who knows? I am amazed at how much information it is possible to glean from what is, at first glance, just a small piece of twisted metal. And see, I told you it would be interesting.

More soon. As always, look after yourselves and each other, and until next time, I remain.

Your humble servant,

RH

Archaeology · Oddities · Whitfield

What If…? Of Stone Heads and Stories.

What ho, you wonderful people, you.

So, despite having half a dozen half-written posts, piles of interesting objects and sherds to talk about, and a few adventures to recount, I want to try something a little different today. “Oh no!” I hear you cry. But fret ye not, gentle reader, for it is still archaeology, it is still Glossop based, and it is still interesting. But it is a little… quirky. You’ll see what I mean.

I have a friend who is a writer, and quite a good one at that. He has often mentioned that stories usually start with what he terms a “What If?” moment, where something – often an object – presents itself, and the question is posed “what if…?” From there the story grows, based on and around that one question. The answer that comes doesn’t have to be ‘real’, it is fiction after all, but it has to be possible. What if a house was haunted? And what if the house fell down? And what if a brick from the house was haunted too? And what if a dashing archaeologist took the brick home to write about it on his extremely popular and incredibly interesting blog? What if…?

Archaeology, I think, uses a similar technique. An object is excavated, and the interpretation – the story – begins. However, where we differ from writers is that we base our ‘what ifs…?’ on evidence and supposition grounded in data. The interpretation, in this sense, has to be ‘real‘, although it is only ‘real’ for as long as the data supports it. Sometimes though, It’s fun to play “what if…?” – and here we join today’s post.

A stone head displaying all the characteristic features, including almond eyes. This one was allegedly found on Mouselow, and now lives on a wall in Buxton Museum

Stone heads. A lot has been written about them. They are cursed and evil. Or they are warm and friendly. They are ‘Celtic’ (i.e. Iron Age or Romano-British) in date. Or they are medieval or early modern in date. Or a combination of both. They represent an unbroken pre-Christian tradition, and an aspect of the whispered ‘Old Ways‘. Or they are simply folk art, and just decorative. Or they are magically protective (that wonderful word, apotropaic, again). Or both. Or neither. A brief trawl of the internet gives a lot of different sites and opinions, ranging from the scholarly and the more open minded, to what can only be termed outright nonsense.

Whatever they are, carved stone heads are a feature of this part of the Pennines – from Longdendale, over the hills to West Yorkshire, and up to the Calder Valley. I actually have a serious project that is looking at them; cataloguing known examples from Glossop and Longdendale, and trying to place them geographically, as well as giving some sort of date to them. There are at least 23 examples from the Glossop area, with more doubtless waiting to be uncovered. But it’s an ongoing project, and not really ready to publish – here, or anywhere else for that matter – and I just keep chipping away at it. It was during the course of trying to map where they were found, that I noticed something very interesting.

Stone head in Old Glossop. Image stolen shamelessly from the Old Glossop website (follow this link – the website is very good)

Before we go any further, I should state that my personal belief is that most of the stone heads are medieval or post-medieval in date (indeed, there is a record of them being carved in the 19th Century). That’s not to say that Iron Age ‘Celtic’ examples don’t exist (one was found at Binchester Roman Fort, in County Durham in 2013), it’s just that it is very difficult to date them as they usually don’t come from any secure archaeological context, and basing a date on ‘style’ or method of carving, as has happened in the past, is notoriously dodgy. That stated, there is the possibility that I might be wrong. And this led to my ‘what if…?‘ moment.

Back to the find location, sadly the majority of the heads are simply “found in Glossop area“, and thus have no exact place. But from various sources, I was able to identify where some of the heads were found. The distribution map is below:

1:10,000 map of Glossop. The Find spots – where the heads were found – are marked in red.

They seem to be dotted all around the area: Mouselow, Manor Park Road, several in Old Glossop, etc. However, looking at the above map, I noticed there was a distinct grouping in Whitfield – four of them centred around Slatelands Road and Hollin Cross Lane. Hmmmmm… let’s have a closer look, then.

Here is the Whitfield group on the 1:2500 map.

Duke Street, Pikes Lane, St Mary’s Road, and Slatelands Road. Geographically, they are in the same tangle of roads in that area. But the heads more than likely pre-date the Victorian roads, so we need to strip them back. What was there then? Well fields, mainly, though the medieval track from Simmondley to Glossop ran through here (that blog post is coming, I promise!). And before that, the Roman road also ran through here, along Pikes Lane, before kinking over Long Clough Brook and onto the fort and settlement at Melandra.

And then, the “what if…?” hit me.

For the sake of a good story, what if these heads actually were Iron Age or Roman in date? What could this cluster mean?

Looking again at the area stripped of the Victorian houses, it’s very clearly a promontory, a high plateau that runs between two brooks – Glossop Brook to the north, and Long Clough Brook to the south. In the Iron Age, they liked their elevated places – Mouselow, which dominates the area, is a classic Iron Age hillfort, and others exist nearby, at Mellor and Mam Tor. One only has to look at St Mary’s Road from Harehills Park to see how steep those slopes are (try doing it pushing Master Hamnett in a pram with a load of shopping from Aldi). And on the other side, who hasn’t cursed Slatelands Road halfway up, gasping for breath. This is a very real landscape feature, completely masked by later development, but one which would have been very visible back then. This would have been particularly true where the peninsular narrows at the west, leading down to the junction of the two brooks. This too, is significant.

Throughout prehistory water was a sacred thing, and was considered ritually important. A spit of land, elevated, defined by water and ending in the confluence of two bodies of water, would have been hugely significant. Actually, a perfect place for an Iron Age temple or shrine, perhaps one devoted to the ‘Celtic head cult’ as suggested by scholars such as Dr Ann Ross (in her Pagan Celtic Britain)? Indeed, the North Derbyshire Archaeological Survey notes that the number of heads in the Glossop area “might suggest a cult centre” based in the town in the Romano-British period (Hart 1984:105). It has been suggested that the heads are sometimes associated with liminality and boundaries, and were protective. What if they were they placed facing down the peninsular, to mark out the sacred space, and to defend it?

The Roman road moves through this promontory, sticking to the high ground away from the valley floors and marshy terrain, as the Romans preferred (see map below). But what if the location of the possible shrine or temple influenced the choice of road location, ploughing through the sacred enclosure, perhaps to make a point about Roman dominance?

The location of the heads in relation to the landscape. The blue is the waters of Glossop Brook (north) and Long Clough Brook (south), forming the spit of land. The yellow line is the medieval trackway, and the green line is the course of the Roman road.

What if…?

Now, I’m not suggesting for a moment that that the above is absolutely true; this is a wild flight of fantasy, and pure fiction – a story. Indeed, doubts are being raised about the reality of the ‘Celtic head cult’ theory in general. But it is a possibility, at least: an archaeological what if…? However, if that isn’t the answer, there still remains the issue of why four stone heads were found in a cluster in this area. What is going on?

If we return to my original thought, that the heads are medieval or post-medieval in date, might they be related to the Simmondley – (Old) Glossop trackway in someway? If we look at the map above, we can see this track (marked in yellow) runs broadly along the line of Princess Street. And just to the east of the three of the heads run along the same alignment. Is this significant? What if people somehow, and for some reason, deposited these heads to the east of the track? But why? Well, I came across a possible reference to just such a practice in this area – Clarke states that “Oral tradition in the High Peak of Derbyshire suggests heads were buried as charms beneath newly-built roads, presumably to keep permanent watch over them” (1999:286). He cites no sources for this “oral tradition”, but this type of apotropaic function – preventing witchcraft and promoting good fortune – is associated with carved heads all over the United Kingdom (Billingsley 2016). Perhaps, then, we are seeing the ritual deposition of carved heads as part of the road building tradition.

What if…?

Heads
A pair of Whitfield Heads. These are at the end of Kershaw Street… and that is all I know about them. It’s on my ‘to do’ list, don’t worry.

No, it is a mystery, and ultimately we are left with questions for which there are no obvious answers. Three of the heads are in Manchester Museum, and the fourth presumably in the hands of the owner/finder. I will have to go and see them, as that might help in dating. As I say the project is ongoing, and any comments or help in the area would be greatly appreciated. Do you know of any stone heads? Do you have photographs of any? Or stories – they seem to attract folklore and superstition like nothing else! Please contact me in the usual way – email me, or through twitter ( @roberthamnett ). Or just come and find me in the street, as people are increasingly doing… so much for pseudonyms and anonymity!

I do hope you enjoyed the little flight of fantasy, but we’ll be back to business as usual next time – the sherds are mounting up! Until then, look after yourselves and each other.

And I remain, your humble servant

RH

References:

John Billingsley – Instances and Contexts of the Head Motif in Britain

David Clarke – The Head Cult: Tradition and Folklore Surrounding the Symbol of the Severed Human Head in the British Isles. (Unpublished PhD Thesis, accessed here)

Anne Ross – Pagan Celtic Britain: Studies in Iconography and Tradition