Author Archives: Andie

Julian Baum’s fascinating Festival of Ideas presentation about the geology and archaeology of the Dee

Many thanks to professional visual effects and 3-D graphics modeller and independent researcher Julian Baum for a really fascinating presentation about new research into the River Dee.

One of Julian Baum’s beautiful reconstructions of Deva and its outer buildings in the mid 3rd Century, based on data from archaeological excavations, showing the Roman town in the context of the river and the widening estuary beyond.

The talk focused on how the Dee’s formation, archaeology and several historic maps have raised a number of questions about the Roman river.  Julian made it very clear that the presentation would consist of a number of hypothetical scenarios based on observable features, none of which can yet be fully supported by the available data.  He and his fellow investigators Rod Hobbs and Peter France have been compiling their data for the last six years, and have produced a 17,000 word paper that has been sent out to experts on Roman stonework and hydraulic engineering for consideration.  As they continue to assemble responses to their proposals, the team are also looking for opportunities to work with other specialists to extract more data from the field.  So, accepting that these ideas need more data to test the hypotheses presented today, what are the questions being asked?

The presentation followed the formation of a new research group, which met in June for the first time and included specialists in a number of relevant fields.  A great many questions were asked at that meeting, but the two overarching research questions are as follows:

1) What do we know about the geology and geomorphology of the Dee valley in the Chester area? Although multiple glaciations impacted the underlying geology of Britain, it was the impact of the last glaciation that is of most interest for the second question.

2) What do we know about Chester and the nearby archaeology, from the prehistoric to early Medieval periods, with particular focus, initially, on the Roman period?

Julian Baum’s presentation then went on to introduce the geology and glacial history of the Dee valley before going on to describe three key archaeological questions.

The Chester weir

First, how old is Chester’s remarkable weir?  Traditionally it has been dated  to the Norman period when the notorious Hugh d’Avranches, better known as Hugh Lupus, began to introduce substantial architectural and civil engineering works to develop a strong economic, religious and social foundation for Chester.  There can be no doubt that Hugh Lupus undertook works on the weir.  What is less certain is if he was the first to establish a weir here.  The proposal by Julian Baum, Rod Hobbs and Peter France, just an intriguing theory at this stage, is that the weir may have been a Roman innovation, mirroring hydraulic works elsewhere in the empire, required to raise the level of the river upstream to enable the vast barges carrying essential building materials from Holt.  The initial round of research described in the presentation has produced considerable quantities of data about the river bed, about post-glacial sea levels and tidal information, as well as looking at all the available archaeological data published to date.  Divers have been consulted and the river boat captains have provided invaluable information about their own experiences with the river depth today, as well as seasonal variations in the navigability of the river.  As the presentation emphasized, much more research is required to test this proposal.  An academic paper has been written by the three researchers and is currently being circulated amongst specialist in the field, who have all expressed an interest in assessing the hypothesis.

The Braun map of 1571

The second question concerns two 16th century maps of the Roodee that show that the north western edge was an almost straight line. How can this straight line be explained?  Building on earlier archaeological discoveries the same researchers propose that this edge may have marked the position of a very long Roman timber jetty.  The line of wall usually identified as the old Roman quay near the modern HQ building at the east of the Roodee has been widely discredited, so the question of where the Roman quay was located remains open.  This proposal makes a great deal of sense, but it too needs testing, and Julian Baum proposed a number of ways in which this could be done using specialist equipment and taking advantage of the upcoming building works at the Roodee.  An interesting corollary to the proposal is that if there was indeed a jetty there, supported on presumably vast timbers, and of a width to enable wheeled vehicles and horses to reach ships moored up along its length, its collapse would have created a major disruption to river flow, and could have had a considerable impact on the silting of the river.

Chester amphitheatre

The third question concerns the archaeology of Chester and its environs prior to the arrival of the Romans.  Iron Age remains were found during the amphitheatre excavations of the 1980s, and there are other indications that there was a healthy Iron Age presence in the area before (and when) the Romans arrived.  This data needs to be collated before it can be assessed, and this is another aim of the research group.

All findings will be made available online on a dedicated website that is currently being built.  The website address will be made available as soon as it is launched.

With many thanks to Julian Baum and other team members, who were present on the day, for such a fascinating presentation.

 

Peter Carrington’s excellent guided walk of Roman Chester during the Festival of Ideas

Dr Peter Carrington, an experienced archaeologist specializing in Roman history, author of the English Heritage book Chester, and editor of the Journal of the Chester Archaeological Society always heads a guided walk as part of the city’s two annual festivals.  This year he introduced a large group of us to what remains of Roman Deva.  We had all received an introductory handout beforehand by email, which as well as outlining the history of the city, included maps and images of aspects of Roman Chester that could only be represented visually.  We met up at the canal bridge just outside the Northgate, so that we could look back towards the stretch of city wall that extends east, high above the bedrock channel that contains the 18th century canal.

Here, just on the other side of the bridge over the canal, a line of Roman wall is still clearly visible, originally topped by an ornamental cornice, the remains of which still survive, bizarrely incorporated into the later walls.  It is thought that the wall originally stood to around 15ft (c.4.5m).  It was news to me that the original defences had been turf-built, and that single layers of stone walling, leaning up against the turf wall, were subject to subsidence and patches of collapse.  The inward-leaning profile of that surviving section above the canal may be explained by that process of subsidence, and this is probably responsible for much of the rebuilding necessary around the walls.  We went up on to the walls and as we proceeded clockwise towards the cathedral, looking over the edge at key points along the way, some of the complexity of the original Roman design was explained.

Walks around the walls are always popular with tourists and residents alike, but sometimes it is what we can see at the base of the walls that tell us most about the Roman past.  When we left the walkway along the top of the walls to examine sections of Roman wall at the foot of the later walls, in Northgate gardens and the Kaleyard and opposite the amphitheatre we learned about the difference between the massive, uncompromising blocks of Roman stonework and the later medieval and Victorian sections of much smaller, sometimes rounded stonework.

The amphitheatre itself is one of Chester’s most well-known tourist attractions but because nearly half of it remains buried under a hideously decaying eyesore of a building, part of which is Georgian and all of which has been abandoned (shocking tourists), the story is only partially told.  Even so, two sets of excavations have revealed an enormous amount of details about the chronological history of the site, which was the biggest Roman amphitheatre built in Britain, with clearly visible phases of enlargement preserved in what remains today.   Peter talked us through the different phases, and explained how the interior would have looked and how the timber sections of seating would have been built and arranged, painting a verbal picture of a much more elaborate building than we see today.  As Peter pointed out throughout the walk, understanding the vertical past of Chester is far more challenging than getting to grips with its horizontal footprint.  It is hoped that the report on the post-Roman history of the site, also of profound interest, will be published in the upcoming months.

The Roman Gardens, which connect the amphitheatre area with The Groves, represent a particularly nice way of bringing together various features of Roman Chester in one place.  The signage explains how much of it relates to the original city, and explains how the hypocaust looked and worked and how the reconstructed mosaics were based on those found in excavations.

By the end of the walk the group had been given a great sense of where Deva is still to be found, and what the fragmentary remains represent.  Given the importance of the town and the scale of the architecture both within and outside the walls, it is remarkable how completely Medieval and more recent Chester have eliminated Rome’s once considerable footprint.

With many thanks to Peter Carrington for a fascinating introduction to Roman Chester.

Claire Chatterton on the first 100 years of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum at the Festival of Ideas

Claire Chatterton speaking at another presentation in 2024. Source: Festival of Ideas

Having spent a lot of time reading and writing about 18th and 19th century lunatic asylums in general and Chester’s public lunatic asylum in particular, it was a sincere pleasure for me to go to the Chester Town Hall to listen to Professor Claire Chatterton talking about the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum.  The asylum opened in 1829 with a building designed by William Cole, and although it expanded over a vast area over the decades, most of which has since been demolished, the original 1829 building still stands in the grounds of the Countess of Chester hospital, of which it is now a functioning part.

Professor Chatterton is an excellent speaker.  I recently listened to a daunting Radio 4 programme entitled “How to avoid death by PowerPoint,” and Professor Chatterton soared above all of the noted pitfalls, speaking with perfect fluency, bringing the audience along with her.  It was good to see that there was a good turnout, reflecting an interest not only in Victorian Chester, but in mental health care.  Professor Chatterton is a former mental health nurse, enabling her to comment with authority on a specialized and skilled profession that is not always well understood.  We were asked not to take photographs, so I have no images of the presentation (the photograph at the top of the page was from a previous presentation), but the accompanying graphics and text were very good.

Chester Lunatic Asylum 1831. Wellcome Institute Library. Source: Historic Hospitals, Cheshire

The scope of the presentation was the first 100 years of the asylum, taking it from 1829 to 1929, which Professor Chatterton made clear was a period of considerable change in terms of both mental health legislation and medical ethics.  The title of the presentation was “Tales from the Asylum: The First 100 Years,” and this captures an important aspect of the narrative, which placed emphasis not only on the general trends and policies of the time as they impacted the asylum, but on the individuals who ran the asylum, worked in it, and were contained within it.

Although the asylum had been established before counties were required by law to build asylums, making Chester one of a number of early pioneers in this area, there were clearly problems. Between 1829 and 1853 staffing of the hospital was somewhat thin on the ground, with no live-in staff and no night staff at all.  Criticism by a board of inspectors resulted in the appointment of a new Superintendent in 1853, Dr Thomas Nadauld Brushfield, who implemented new standards of management and care, including the banning, wherever possible, of mechanical restraints.  The professor described how Brushfield’s regime, between 1853 and 1865, appears to have been as humane as possible, with an emphasis on patient care rather than mere containment, but she also made it clear that the problems should not be underestimated, and whilst new admissions rose, the greater majority of patients could not be released.

The previous occupations of patients admitted in 1870

Professor Chatterton talked about the fragmentary nature of the available data from asylums.  It is a hard fact that even though these were publicly funded institutions, many of the archives were considered excess to requirements when the mental healthcare system was overhauled at different times.  Fortunately some of the documentation for the Chester asylum is held by the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies offices. These are closed at the moment for a major overhaul, but should be available for consultation once again in 2026.  Professor Chatterton was able to access some of them before the closure, piecing together some of the many stories from inside the asylum.

Professor Chatterton took us through some of the statistics that were produced in the annual reports that provide a fascinating wealth of information about patients, such as their employment backgrounds and the state of their health and any particular conditions from which they suffered on admission, as well as suggesting causes for mental health issues.  It is difficult, as the Professor made clear, to make comparisons from one asylum to another about what mental illness terminology actually means, because no reports define it and although the same terms might be used, definitions might differ, but some, like the end stages of syphilis (referred to as General Paralysis) are distressingly prevalent.  She took us through some of the general health problems confronted in asylums, some of which can be cured today but were, at that time, incurable.  It was often a bleak picture.

The Handbook for Attendants of the Insane. Source: Royal College of Nursing, “Out of the Asylum”

Unsurprisingly for the period, there was a division between male and female patients, who were divided physically within the asylum.  At first both the male and female staff handling patients were referred to as attendants, with men attending male patients and women attending female patients, but eventually the women became known as nurses, reflecting a degree of professionalization of this work within the asylums.  It took much longer for men to be recognized as nurses too.  Professor Chatterton gave examples of some staff, male and female, who had been pensioned off after suffering acute stress, partly due to the nature of the job, and partly due to long hours.  It was quite clearly one of those careers that took a heavy toll on those on the front line.  I was particularly sad to learn that the Reverend Congreve, who had run schools for those patients who wished to attend them, and had operated a mobile library, was one of those who died, having had succumbed to stress.

It was interesting to see photographs (and actual objects that Professor Chatterton brought with her) of items that were used by nursing staff in their daily work.  I had seen online scans of the annual reports produced by the asylum, but had never actually seen one in the flesh.  In my mind’s eye they were A4-sized, big and bold, but actually they were around A5 sized, like small booklets, which seemed far too understated for the importance of the job at hand!  Adverts for staff in the asylum were particularly interesting, showing top-level requirements and starting salaries.  The increasing professionalization of mental healthcare nursing was demonstrated by a number of publications that not only advised nursing professionals, but helped them with the exams that from the late 19th century they were expected to pass.   Psychiatric work eventually became one of the fields that the first women doctors could enter.

If you have the opportunity to hear Claire Chatterton speak in the future, I very much recommend it!  A great lecture, with thanks.

The 1829 Building at the Countess of Chester Hospital, the former lunatic asylum

Objects from my garden #14: A sherd of pottery from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

It is a very long time since I dug anything out of the garden worth posting about, but here’s a fun one from the other day.  Unlike the gollywog sherd (object 9), which took me a moment to figure out (mainly because I was holding it upside down) this made itself understood as soon as I turned it over.  It’s a very small piece, just 6cm long, but its provenance is beyond question: Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.  This is the broken remnant of what was obviously a souvenir item from the village whose only claim to fame is having the longest place name in Europe.  The village is located on Anglesey, next to the Menai Straits.  The placename is marked on Ordnance Survey maps as Llanfair Pwllgwyngyll and local shorthand refers to it as Llanfairpwll, whilst a wider use as often Llanfair PG. 

A souvenir from Llainfairpwill that may be the type of object from which the sherd in my garden came. Source: eBay

According to Wikipedia the name was an invention composed of local landscape features to produce the country’s longest railway sign and roughly translated means “[The] church of [St.] Mary (Llanfair) [of the] pool (pwll) of the white hazels (gwyn gyll) near to [lit. “over against”] the fierce whirlpool (y chwyrn drobwll) [and] the church of [St.] Tysilio (Llantysilio) of the red cave (gogo[f] goch)”.  Various elements have occasionally been translated differently.  The inventor remains anonymous, but obviously had a good grasp of local topography.

Souvenirs have been popular since the mid-18th century when travel became an important rite of passage for wealthy young men, but it became particularly popular after the Second World War when transport costs fell and travel became a popular activity for a much wide cross-section of society.  “Simultaneously, the souvenir, gift, and keepsake industry was receiving a boost from the proliferation of new materials (like plastic) and the globalisation of mass production. Attractions of all sizes could now offer visitors custom merchandise–serving as sentimental keepsakes and promotional material.” (The Mint Museum of Toys).

I assumed that a web search would produce 100s of souvenir types showing the Llanfairpwll name, but in fact there are very few.  The most popular appears to be a decorated Welsh hat (like a very large thimble with a rim), with the town name along the top of the rim and the town shield or other motif on the crown of the hat.  That fits for this piece, which is completely flat except for a small upright piece that is difficult to explain in any other way.  An example is shown above.  Other icons that evoke specifically Welsh cultural identity in souvenirs are red dragons, love spoons, Celtic knotwork and occasionally harps (although the latter is perhaps more commonly associated with Ireland).
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“Dull-wisgoedd Cymru / Cambrian Costumes” by Lady Llanover 1834. Excerpt from a postcard. Source: Amgueddfa Cymru / National Museum of Wales

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Llanfairpwllch stationboard with the name framed in green and the approximate pronunciation below. Source: Wikipedia

For anyone new to this occasional series on objects extracted from my garden during everyday gardening activities, see the History in Garden Finds page.  These are not objects used in the garden, but objects, usually fragments, lost or disposed of in the garden and found during digging, troweling and planting.

Castell Dinas Brân, Castle of Crows above Llangollen – Medieval ruins and stunning views

I have been visiting Dinas Brân on and off for decades, but have never got around to writing it up.  It was one of my favourite walks with the family dog in the 1980s when my parents lived hereabouts.  Much later, a regular return trip between Aberdovey and Rossett gave me the opportunity to see the castle from various different angles in all sorts of weather, the conical hill on which it sits soaring from the Dee valley providing a commanding, impressive position that dominates the landscape.  I recently drove into Llangollen to go up to the castle on a hot day, prepared for a moderately steep walk from the canal bridge, correctly anticipating a slightly breathless arrival at the ruins.

This is a splendid walk.  It is only about 2km (1.3 miles) from the Eisteddfod Pavilion, where I parked, although uphill all the way from the Wern Road canal bridge, so it feels longer, and the views towards the castle and back over the valley are splendid.  The views from the castle itself are of course stupendous, both aesthetically and geologically.  The geology and geomorphology are mentioned in brief below.  More about parking, the different routes and conditions underfoot are towards the end of the post in Visiting.

 

Dinas Bran ruins

Castell Dinas Brân, a Scheduled Monument, is the story of two fortifications, one dating to the Iron Age, at around 600BC, the other a medieval castle dating to the 13th Century.  It is far from unusual to find Medieval castles built within the circumference of an Iron Age hillfort, because both were making use of the same strategic features:  a good view of the surrounding countryside, a defensible position, often above cultivable land, and access to water.  This post is about the Medieval castle.

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History of Castle of the Crows

The medieval castle

Window of what was possibly the Great Hall of Dinas Bran

Window of what was possibly the Great Hall of Dinas Bran

It is not certain which of the Powys Fadog rulers built Dinas Brân.  The most common suggestion is that the castle was built by Prince Gruffudd ap Madoc (c.1220-c.1270), beginning in the 1260s, but there is an argument discussed by Paul R Davies that it may have been built by his father Prince Madoc ap Gruffudd Maelor.

Valle Crucis Cistecian Abbey, founded 1201

From c.1190 Prince Madoc was ruler of Powys Fadog, the northern section of Powys, which had been split into two on the death of Madoc ap Maredudd in 1160.  He founded the nearby Cistercian abbey in 1201, and although his territory was comparatively small, he clearly had ambitions to establish his name and ensure his legacy, A castle would have been consistent with that intention, and as Davis points out, materials and workers could have been shared between the two sites.  Prince Madoc died in 1236 leaving four sons, of whom Prince Gruffudd was the only one to survive.  Whether Madoc started work on the castle or not, it is clear that Prince Gruffudd continued it, completing it well before the war of 1277.

Together with Powys Wenwynwyn to the south, Powys Fadog was sandwiched between the much larger territory of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd’s Meirionydd in the west of Wales and England to the east.  Llywelyn (c.1223 – 11th December 1282, also known as Llywelyn the last, grandson of Llywelyn the Great) and his brother Dafydd (1238 – 3rd October 1283) had been in a long-term power struggle with Henry III that erupted once again under Henry’s son Edward I.  Whilst the northeast territories provided a buffer zone between the two warring factions, their rulers were inevitably dragged into the question of where to bestow their loyalties.  There was never any certainty that the members of a single family would throw in their lot with the same side, and some, like Llywelyn’s brother Dafydd, switched sides at least once.

Wales following the 1267 Treaty of Montgomery showing Powys Fadog sandwiched between Gwynedd and England. Source: Turvey 2002, p.xxvii map 8

Prince Gruffudd was married to an English wife, presumably for diplomatic reasons, providing a nod of friendship to the English.  With Lady Emma Audely he had four sons, the eldest named Madoc, and one daughter.  Presumably seen as fair game by Llywelyn, Powys Fadog was attacked.  When Henry III was appealed to for help but did not come to Powys Fadog’s aid Gruffudd seems to have thrown in his lot with Llywelyn, arranging for peace between Meirionydd (Gwynedd) and the return of his territories by agreeing to the marriage of his eldest son Madoc to Llywelyn’s sister Margaret.  Dinas Brân was apparently built in support of the interests of Llywelyn the self-styled Prince of Wales, borrowing certain elements of architectural styling from Llywelyn’s castles, including the D-shaped tower at its southern side.

Gruffudd apparently died in around 1270, because it was in this year that his sons signed a grant to provide Lady Emma with lands of Maelor Saesneg to secure her future.  At this time ownership of the castle would have been split four ways between his sons, because primogeniture was the English but not the Welsh system of inheritance.  Instead of one son or daughter inheriting an estate, on the death of a father all property was divided between the remaining sons, with provision usually made for wives and daughters.  Each of Prince Gruffudd’s sons had his own decision to make in November 1276 when war broke out again between England and Wales.  However they started the war, Gruffydd’s eldest sons eventually submitted to Edward, but in May 1277 an English force sent to take possession of the castle found it in engulfed in flames and it was evident that the garrison left behind had remained loyal to Llywelyn.  The decision to burn and abandon the castle rather than defend or surrender it did not, however, completely destroy the castle.

After the Treaty of Aberconwy in 1277 Llywelyn paid homage to Edward, sitting to the left of the king’s throne, with Alexander of Scotland at the king’s right. The peace did not last.

After the Treaty of Aberconwy in 1277, Llywelyn’s power was confined to northwest Wales.  The English inspection of Dinas Brân to assess the damage caused by the fire found that although considerable superficial damage had been inflicted, the well-built castle was structurally sound and still of strategic value.  Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, wrote to Edward I recommending that the castle be repaired and garrisoned with English troops.

Following Edward’s triumph, Powys Fadog was abolished as a territory.  Edward gave ownership of the castle and all its lands to John de Warenne, the early of Surrey.  The castle, however, was no longer relevant as a symbolic stronghold of the former territory and now stood at the borderland of the new friendly lordships of Chirk, held by Roger Mortimer, and Bromfield and Yale by John de Warenne.  Instead of devoting any attention to Dinas Brân, de Warenne became busy building his new castle at the eastern end of Bromfield and Yale on the Dee crossing at Holt near Chester.

Ruins of Dinas Bran

Ruins of Dinas Bran

There is no record of the role performed by Dinas Brân, if any, during the final great conflict between Llywelyn and Edward of 1282, when the English were triumphant.  Llywelyn died on the battlefield that year, and Dafydd was captured and put to death in 1283.  As Holt Castle grew, Dinas Brân was abandoned.

A completely unsubstantiated legend concerns the fate of the two underage sons of Prince Madoc, Gruffudd’s eldest son.  Walter Tregellas in 1864 tells the story, in which Edward I conferred guardianship of the two boys on Roger Mortimer and John de Warenne:  “it is stated that the two children were soon afterwards drowned under Holt Bridge . . . This is said to have happened in 1281.”  He goes on to recount an even better version of the conspiracy, however: “it is uncertain whether the king himself did not cause the children to be put to death.”  There is no evidence whatsoever about what became of the two younger children of the prince of Powys Fadog.

Dinas Bran and the wonderful scenery beyond

Dinas Bran and the wonderful scenery beyond

The only hint that they castle buildings may have been re-used is a poem by Hywel ab Einion Llygliw Myfanwy Fychan in the 14th century, in which he claimed to have been rejected by the beautiful girl who lived there.  There is no evidence to support this later domestic occupation, but neither is there anything to deny it.  John Leland, visiting in 1536, found it in ruins.

 

The Victorians

Dinas Brân Castle by Alphonse Dousseau, c.1850. Source: The National Library of Wales, via WikiData.

When ruins became desirable romantic destinations, Dinas Brân was an obvious lure for painters (many of whom chose to paint safely from below) and more adventurous tourists.  The Holyhead road was the major route through north Wales, with Telford’s great route, now the A5, opening in 1826, and the railway was opened in 1864.  A local entrepreneur, demonstrating great faith in the spirit of adventure demonstrated by the new tourists, decided to make the most of the popular site and the first visitor provision was supplied in 1820, with a cottage added in the 1880s as a tea room together with an octagonal camera obscura, which was still in situ by the start of the Second World War.

Walking up the hill not far from the summit I found a piece of slender white clay pipe, about an inch long, on a piece of well-worn hillside.  This almost certainly belonged to the period of Victorian interest in the castle.

Victorian cottage built for serving teas to visitors on Dinas Brân. Source: People’s Collection Wales

 

The castle as it stands today

Fieldwork

Plan of Dinas Brân, both prehistoric and medieval, following the geophysical survey of 2017

There has been very little fieldwork at Dinas Brân, and even the antiquarian investigators who explored other sites seem to have felt that this was one challenge too many.  The only exception appears to be alocal treasure hunter who is mentioned in a journal entry by Lady Eleanor Butler of Plas Newydd, whose home was in full view of the castle, and who commented that their landlord had informed them that a smith from Dimbraneth “has been dreaming of more than a year past of treasure at Dinas Brân. Hew has within this week begun to dig.”  There is no report of any discoveries.

In 2017 a geophysical survey was carried out and this was quite comprehensive, addressing both the medieval castle and the prehistoric hillfort.  Although nothing conclusive was discovered, magnetic readings did suggest that a fire had scoured the ramparts, perhaps tying in with contemporary reports that the sons of Prince Gruffudd had set fire to the entire structure rather than surrender it to the English.

In 2020 a survey was carried out by the Clwyd Powys Archaeological Trust (CPAT) to assess the condition of the site, both the castle and the prehistoric hillfort, making recommendations to make it safer and more approachable for visitors and to manage archaeological impact.  Earthworks were noted beyond the hillfort but were not included in the survey.

CPAT excavation at Dinas Brân in 2021. Source: Heneb

It was not until August 2021 that the first archaeological investigation was carried out at the site, organized by CPAT.  It was a small exploratory dig, with four trial trenches both within and outside the castle walls.  The main aim of the project was less investigation of the history and more about assessment of the condition of the building’s foundations.  Although the excavations did no more than reveal the medieval floor surface, one sherd of medieval pottery was recovered and a “ledge/kerb was discovered projecting from the gatehouse wall, with a portcullis slot in it near the east end, and a fine masonry carved pillar base at the western end.”  In 2021 the Heneb report said that the excavation report was “awaiting a second phase of work in 2022,” but I have been able to find nothing about a 2022 excavation and no further reports.

Modern conservation work was carried out by Recclesia, who surveyed the site and inserted stabilizing rods into the south wall of the castle to ensure that it stays upright now and in the future.

The surviving architecture

Detail of an old interpretation board

The plan drawn by Tregellas in 1864. with annotations

The castle was very fine in its day, with imposing fortified walls and stone and timber buildings.  There are hints that there were decorative features.  I have annotated the plan drawn in 1864 by Walter Tregellas to make this easier to follow.  If you have walked up from Llangollen, and climbed the east-facing slope of the hill, you will have entered opposite the original entrance.  I had had a long wander around before tackling how the ruins relate to the original layout but when I got stuck into the site plan, I started at the entrance.

The ditch surrounding the castle

The site consists of a rectangular court orientated east-west, c.82m  by 35m, surrounded by a ditch dug out of the bedrock, which provided the material from which the castle was built.  As well as building materials available within the immediate vicinity, it was found that there was sandstone facing in certain parts of the castle, which would have provided it with both refinement and prestige.  It is not clear where this came from, but it is likely that it was sourced from the same location as the Valle Crucis ashlar.  The ditch surrounding the castle was an impressively deep and wide feature, running around three sides, the northern side of the castle being positioned directly over a steep drop.  At the southwestern corner of the ditch was once a well, the location of which is now very difficult to see.

An artist’s impression of how the gatehouse (right) and the keep (left) as they may have looked when it was first built. Source: Clwydian Range and Dee Valley

The original entrance was marked by a gatehouse that, being one of the points of weakness of the castle, was built so that it could be well defended, with twin English-style towers forming a gatehouse, each with hollow basements and, remarkably, appears to have been furnished with highly ornate rib-mouldings.  This is unprecedented in Welsh castle design and may have been copied from an English example.  One of the two gate towers still has the underfloor barrel-vaulted arch that was accessible from the courtyard; although it is now open to the outside, this would have been closed in the 13th century and is probably the enlargement of an arrow slit.  The vaulted room is closed to the public except on special open days.  The gatehouse was supplied with latrines on its northern side, that emptied down the walls into the ditch.

The vaulted undercroft in the gatehouse

 

The stairwell that lead up to the first floor of the keep

Heading clockwise from here, you encounter the square keep.  This was once an impressive building that helped offer protection for the gatehouse as well as the most vulnerable eastern approach.  It will also have provided a home for the main family members and a final retreat at a time of siege.  It was equipped with latrine which, like the gatehouse, emptied into the ditch.  Additional security was provided for the keep.  It could only be entered via a first floor door reached by stairs from a walled passage, and was separated from the rest of the castle interior by its own ditch, which would have been crossed by a liftable bridge.

Continue around to the right to follow what was once the long south curtain wall.  The section of wall with two giant openings in it was either the site of the castle’s Hall, where dining and socializing would have taken place, or its chapel. The two openings, providing plenty of light for interior, would have been about 1.8m (6ft) wide at their maximum width.  They would have had shutters to protect the castle from the elements, but no window glass.

At the far end of the Hall a doorway opened into a D-shaped tower that extended beyond the line of the curtain wall.  The D-shaped section has gone, but this tower was a major feature of the castle, rising to two if not three floors.  A good surviving example can be seen at the well known Ewloe Castle (about which I have posted here).  Again, this was a defensive measure providing archers good views over the ditch and the flanking walls. The ruins of the inners walls give a sense of the size of this half of the room. It is likely that part of this was used for the castle kitchens, which gives weight to the argument that the adjoining apartment was the dining hall rather than the chapel.

Further along this stretch and you will find yourself looking out between two sections of wall, a gap that represents the remains of the postern gateway.  As well as providing a useful secondary pedestrian entrance on the opposite side of the castle from the main gatehouse, this could also be used as a “sally port” that would allow foot soldiers to mount a surprise attack from an unexpected position.

A rectangular building at the west end may have been either the hall or the chapel or served another purpose.  This area is likely to be highly disturbed, archaeologically, due to the Victorian building works in this area. The rest of the interior would have been filled with timber-built buildings, including accommodation for servants, storage, stables and workshops.

 

The landscape  

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British Geological Survey geological timeline.

Standing on the peak of the hill, you are 305m (c.1000ft) above seal level.  Geologically, Llangollen is divided into two main formations.  At the top of Dinas Brân you are standing on one and looking at the other.

Beneath your feet the rock formations are dark grey Silurian shales and silstones, which were laid down as deep sea sediments and then subjected to metamorphic processes.  These are the same rocks that you see in the Dee river bed from the Llangollen bridge, with the rapids flowing over them.  The stone quarried from the ditches of this Silurian hillside were used to build the castle, and are uncleaved, around 30-40cm thick.

Above this layer in Llangollen is the heavily layered Carboniferous limestone escarpment that so dramatically forms a backdrop to Llangollen and Dinas Brân, laid down when the sea was warm and shallow.  The Devonian, which theoretically should have sat between these two geological periods, is missing, presumably because it was not under water in this area at that time, and did not form the rich, deep layers usually laid down in marine contexts.

The solid geology of Clwyd showing rock types. Jenkins 1991, p.14

Geomorphologically, the Vale of Llangollen is a typical U-shaped valley carved by the advancing ice and associated debris of the Welsh Ice Sheet as it advanced east.  The river Dee wends its way through this flat base, and former river beds are visible in the landscape, the former routes of the river blocked by the ice sheet, forcing water to find a new passage.

The  plant life that has settled into place on this isolated outpost is typical species that are capable of surviving on highly exposed rock with very little topsoil.  Drought-resistant annuals like foxgloves and swathes of rock-hugging perennial succulents like sedum anglicum are dominant at this time of year.


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Visiting

Map of the footpaths to Dinas Brân Castle (Kightly 2003, Denbighshire County Council)

The castle is on the open hilltop and is free of charge to access.  There are no facilities at all.  You will need to take water and any snacks with you, although there are plenty of facilities down in Llangollen itself.

There are two main approaches to the castle for walkers arriving by car from the east.  One is a longer walk from the valley bottom, and the other is a much shorter but slightly steeper walk from the other side, approached along the narrow road now marked on the map as the Offa’s Dyke Path (even though Offa’s Dyke does not actually follow this exact path).  A map taken from the bilingual booklet Castell Dinas Brân Llangollen (in their Enjoy Medieval Denbighsire series) shows two alternative routes, with variations. 

The easiest place to park if you are heading up from the valley is the International Eisteddfod Pavilion (marked as the Royal International Pavilion on the map), which offers a really lovely walk along the canal to arrive at the canal bridge where you cross to begin the walk.  The second approach is much shorter and takes you from the Offa’s Dyke Path, a single-track road that follows the line of the hill, and has spectacular views; there is no official parking here, although there is space to pull over and park for about 4-5 cars (being careful to leave passing spaces) and this gets full very quickly on fine days.  

Both routes require sensible footwear, whatever the weather.  I was wearing some excellent lightweight hiking trainers with heavy tread, perfect for a hot day, but in damper seasons I would go for hiking boots.  Although the path starts off metalled in Llangollen itself, mainly because it is one access point to the local school, it becomes much more uneven underfoot as the path goes on, with patches of coarse bedrock and scatterings of loose scree.

The Eisteddfod Pavilion is on the A539 on the way out of Llangollen towards Valle Crucis and the Horseshoe Pass.  The car park is big, with a pay and display system.  From here, go up out of the car park towards the canal bridge, and go down on to the towpath to the left of the bridge, turning to the right under the bridge to head east in the direction of Llangollen.  This is a lovely stretch of canal, passing the marina on your left.

When you reach the next canal bridge, with a cafe on the right, walk up on to the bridge.  Directly in front of you, heading straight up a short flight of stairs, is the public footpath.

From here on it is easy to find your way.  Just keep going straight up.  You first pass the school on the left, and a field on the right, with a gate at the top of this first stretch.  Go through the gate, cross the lane, and keep going up the other side.

You will pass various attractive buildings along the way, the largest of which is the Grade II listed Dinbren Hall, built with conviction but without a great deal of imagination in a very lovely location in 1793.

Soon you will reach another gate.  This has signage on the other side of it warning to inform you that you have now arrived at the foot of the hill, and to keep dogs on a lead (there are sheep all the way along this walk).

It is less even underfoot from here, with a very short uneven patch, but you will find that just over the other side the path opens out onto the hillside, with a clear view of the path ahead.

A very short uneven section of path, but it evens out just on the other side

 

Beyond this, along the steepest part of the route, the ziz-zag path marked on the map is beautifully maintained at the time of writing, with occasional stretches provided with a hand rail and long shallow steps where required.

This brings you out at the the west end of the castle, where the Victorian camera obscura and teashop used to be located.  If you are approaching from the other side, via the Offa’s Dyke Path, you will find a similar zig-zag arrangement to provide a less strenuous way up the hill than heading straight up the side.

Eastern approach to the castle

You can easily turn this into a circular walk from the Eisteddfod pavilion. For the quickest of the two easiest routes, come down from the castle onto the lane under the limestone escarpment and head downhill along the Wern Road, which takes you back to the canal bridge.  For a longer but really attractive route, continue along Offa’s Dyke Path, past Wern Road, which eventually heads downhill and comes out at the Sun Trevor on the A542; cross the road, cross the canal bridge, turn right and walk back along the towpath into Llangollen.  Although this is a much longer way back, it is all metalled lane and nicely maintained towpath, so is very easy underfoot.

Sources

Ordnance Survey Explorer no.256: Wrexham/Wrecsam and Llangollen.  Particularly useful if you want to make this into a circular walk, or to visit other local sites like the Horseshoe Falls and Valle Crucis Cistercian abbey.

If you are particularly interested in medieval architecture in the Denbighshire area, do download their bi-lingual PDF booklet Enjoy Medieval Denbighshire.

Map showing sites featured in the “Enjoy Medieval Denbighshire” PDF

Books and papers

Berry, D. 2016 (4th edition). Walks around Llangollen and the Dee Valley.  Kittiwake Books

Davies, John 2007 (3rd edition). A History of Wales. Penguin.

Davis, Paul R. 2021. Towers of Defiance. The Castles and Fortifications of the Princes of Wales. Y Lolfa

Kightly, Charles 2003.  Castell Dinas Brân Llangollen.  Denbighshire County Council (bilingual booklet with excellent illustrations, artist reconstructions, photographs and information)

Jenkins, David A. 1991.  The Environment: Past and Present. In (eds.) John Manley, Stephen Grenter and Fiona Gale. The Archaeology of Clwyd. Clwyd Archaeology Service, p.13-25

Jones, N. W., 2020. Castell Dinas Brân, Llangollen, Denbighshire: Condition Survey. Unpublished report. CPAT Report No. 1739
https://coflein.gov.uk/media/366/634/cpatp_144_001.pdf

Roserveare, M. J., 2017. Castell Dinas Bran, Llangollen, Denbighshire: geophysical survey
report. TigerGeo Project DBL161.

Tregellas, Walter 1864. Castell Dinas Bran Near Llangollen, Denbighshire. The Archaeological Journal, 21, p.114–120
https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archiveDS/archiveDownload?t=arch-1132-1/dissemination/pdf/021/021_114_120.pdf

Turvey, Roger 2002. The Welsh Princes. The Native Rules of Wales 1063-1283. Pearson Education

Venning, Timothy 2012. The Kings and Queens of Wales. Amberley

 

Websites

Coflein
Castell Dinas Bran
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/307064/

Clwydian Range and Dee Valley
Dinas Brân
www.clwydianrangeanddeevalleyaonb.org.uk/projects/dinas-bran/

CPAT
Historic Landscape Characterization: The Making of the Vale of Llangollen and Eglwyseg Historic Environment
https://heneb.org.uk/archive/cpat/projects/longer/histland/llangoll/vlenvi.htm

Heneb
Castell Dinas Brân, Llangollen
https://heneb.org.uk/cy/project/castell-dinas-bran-llangollen/
Dinas Brân, Llangollen Community, Denbighshire (HLCA 1150)
https://heneb.org.uk/hcla/vale-of-llangollen-and-eglwyseg/dinas-bran-llangollen-community-denbighshirehlca-1150/

Recclesia
Castell Dinas Bran
https://recclesia.com/our-work/castell-dinas-bran

Scottish Geology Trust GeoGuide
Dinas Brân
https://geoguide.scottishgeologytrust.org/p/gcr/gcr19/gcr19_dinasbran

 

You can explore the castle from afar via this Sketchfab 3D model by Mark Walters.

 

A video showing the two main stages of occupation of the Dinas Bran hill, on the Clwydian Range and Dee Valley website, beginning with the hillfort and moving on to the medieval castle.

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More decorative arts at Plas Newydd – Delftware tiles, gilt leather wall hangings and intricate plaster ceilings (#3)

Introduction 

Plas Newydd after 1814.  People’s Collection Wales

The local Llangollen builder of the unassuming little cottage of Plas Newydd could not have envisaged the cultural extravaganza that emerged from the plain and simple 5-room unembellished cottage rented by Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby from 1780.  The transformations introduced by the ladies was  embellished by General John Yorke, who had known the ladies as a boy and built a new extension to the house, running Plas Newydd as a museum.  This was in turn elaborated by George Robertson, who built his own extension.  Both extensions eventually had to be demolished due to dry rot, but the remaining cottage was saved.  Plas Newydd was eventually sold to Denbigh County Council, which now does an excellent job of caring for it.

The story of Plas Newydd is covered in Part 1, providing a general introduction to the house and its most notable owners.  Part 2 looked specifically at the stained glass.  Although the house is particularly noted for its fabulous carved wood (not yet discussed) and stained glass composites (discussed in part 2) it also features traditional delftware tiles in fireplaces, embossed leather wall hangings, Lincrusta wallpaper and elegant plasterwork ceilings. These make up the subject of this post.

It is not always at all clear which of the various owners added which decorative features.  Even more difficult, dating the different elements is not at all straight forward.  Whilst the stained glass and wood carvings represent a wide chronological range (from the medieval to the late 19th century), the tiles could date from the 17th to the 18th centuries, whilst the embossed leather could belong to the 16th to the 18th centuries.  Lincrusta wallpaper was invented and marketed only from the 1877.  The plaster ceilings are probably Victorian in date, rather than having been imported from older buildings, as they seem to have been made for the rooms in which they are installed.
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Dutch delftware tiles

Fireplace in the Oak room with floral themes in Green and red, with blue corner motifs

The Dutch tiles in the fireplaces at Plas Newydd are sometimes said to have been installed by General Yorke, but it slightly concerns me that the General does not mention the tiles in his Catalogues of 1884 and 1888, and it is possible that it was Mr Robertson who installed them.

Tiles, being ornamental and installed into the fabric of a building, are categorized with other installed decorative arts including plasterwork, wall coverings, decorative stonework, wooden craftwork, and stained glass.  The Plas Newydd tiles include some really lovely examples, showing characteristic themes including sailing boats, windmills, rural scenes and flowers.  Whoever acquired them had a good eye.  The tiles work splendidly well with the medley of other styles, shapes, textures and colours, providing an elegant, cooling and quiet balance to some of the darker and more exotic elements.  Most are blue and white but some have delicate reds and greens to pick out the natural shades of the flowers depicted.

Delftware (“delftware” when not at the beginning of a sentence) is a collective term for tin-glazed earthenware, both functional and ornamental pottery, that became synonymous with the Netherlands.   Although named for the potteries in Delft, which were the first in the Netherlands to produce this particular blue and white glazed earthenware, the style of ceramics takes its inspiration from Italian maiolica, also known as majolica, ware, which was imported into the Low Countries (today the Netherlands and Belgium) in the early 16th century, where it began to be copied.  The relationship between maiolica and delftware is very obvious.  Maiolica had a brighter and more colourful palette but a very similar emphasis on blue, white and small painted scenes.

Delftware is made using a tin glaze.  The importance of this is that unlike a plain lead glaze, which is clear and rather glossy after firing, tin oxide can be added to a lead glaze to provide an opaque, white glaze, which can then be painted with designs and re-fired.  This was a technique imported via the Mediterranean from the Middle East.

It is clear from the variety of corner motifs, and the absence of them in many cases,  that these were not a single batch, but they shared familiar delftware themes  – human everyday activities, rural scenes and shipping. Dining room

Although Delft became the most important centre for tile production, for both local consumption as well as for export, the tiles were amongst the most utilitarian products that did not require specialist techniques to form them and were made at a variety of locations, including Rotterdam.  As well as being highly decorative, they were easy to clean and durable.  The tiles, typically measuring 13cm x 13cm, were commonly used internally for lining walls and fireplaces, where they could withstand heat, and basements and cellars where they were largely impervious to chill and damp.  To ensure that they could withstand these conditions they were fired twice, first at 950-1000 degrees and after they had dried and were glazed and painted, were fired again at c.1000 degrees, which also fixed the glaze.

The Oak Room

The tiles soon became popular in prosperous middle-class homes but, like all fashions that emerged in the upper echelons, eventually trickled down to the general population, finding particular favour amongst the newly wealthy class of prosperous farmers in rural areas of the Netherlands.  Fashions in the countryside tended to lag behind those in more urban areas, meaning that factories continued to produce particular styles some decades after they had been replaced in the homes of towns and cities.

Although delftware is often thought of as blue and white, due to the popularity of this minimalist palette following the import of Chinese blue and white china by the Dutch East India Company (VOC) in the 17th century, a palette of pastel shades was also used.  Although China-inspired scenes were used for a while, there were soon replaced by the classic themes on delftware, including birds, flowers, rural scenery, people (including children) engaged in everyday activities and sea-going vessels.  Corner motifs (hoekmotiefs) became an important part of the overall design in many tiles, and the same motifs appear repeatedly on many of the tiles.  The corner motifs help to provide focus and act as a substitute frame.  Amongst the most popular of these were the ox-head motifs, as shown in the polychrome floral example from the Oak Room.

Different types of ox-head corner motifs. Source: Kamermans 2014

I have no idea what is going on in this scene, but would love to know! Do get in touch if you can explain it! Dining room

As they were easy to transport by road and water, making them an ideal export product, and there was a ready demand for them, tiles became a popular item in England, where they were imported in large numbers.   In the 16th and 17th centuries Dutch and Flemish potters migrated into England to escape religious persecution and began to manufacture delftware pottery and tiles, which they could sell directly to English markets, helping to spread their popularity.  An area of London now known as Potters Fields was named for the Dutch potters who, in around 1620, established the earliest delftware production in England, but others were slightly further afield, such as the 17th century factory established in Edward III’s ruined manor on the eastern edge of Bermondsey on the Thames in the shipbuilding area next to today’s Angel public house.

In the 18th century English potters began to open their own tile-works and this became an increasingly important industry centred on London, Bristol and Liverpool.  Until the middle of the century designs were typical of those from the Netherlands but soon began to become increasingly diverse to suit local demand.  Local production reduced costs, and when Sadler and Green of Liverpool developed transfer printing for tiles from the late 18th century, costs dropped even further, ensuring that delftware spread to lower income households.

 

Fireplace in the library

Detail of the fireplace in the library.  Every tile has the same decoration: a formal flower arrangement in a vase, with fleur de lys corner motifs.

 

A mixture of decorative topics are shown on the tiles in the main bedroom.

Trying to pin a date to any of the tile sets at Plas Newydd is not possible for a non-expert.  The most useful guide to the chronological development of delftware that I have found to date was produced by the Philadelphia Museum of Art by van Dam and Tichelaar in 1984, and provides an excellent overview of how delftware originated and how its popularity was split into urban and rural settings within the Netherlands, with different trends in each. For example, with particular reference to the tiles at Plas Newydd, tiles with frames such as those shown below tend to be earlier than those with only small corner motifs.  Tile thicknesses reduced from earlier tiles that were as much as 18m mm thick to only 6-7mm in the 18th century.  Polychrome examples such as those in the Oak Room were popular in the Netherlands in the mid-17th century but but went out of fashion in urban homes, surviving in rural homes for a while until here too they went out of fashion in around 1700.  Other chronological clues are the themes that made up collections of tiles.  For example, the number of landscapes and pastoral scenes increased at the expense of ships and sea monsters, whilst there was an increase of  wide landscapes, and the production of many more Biblical themes often framed in circles.  Finally, amongst various other clues, the Dutch tile was usually 13mm sq, and this was emulated by English artists, but some manufacturers began to produce 152mm sq tiles for the English market.  However, whether any of this is chronological direction is applicable to trends in English tile art I simply have no idea, and at the moment it is unknown whether the tiles are Dutch or English.

Main bedroom, including rural scenes and two identical floral arrangements in vases, fixed into position side by side.   The tower next to them is also anomalous; the others are all provided with a decorative frame and are rather more painterly in conception

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Delftware pottery continued to be made into the 19th century, and indeed are still made today, but were replaced in popularity towards the end of the 18th century in England by new fashions.  Tiles continued to be used, but English manufacturers in Stoke on Trent and Jackfield began to innovate new styles of tile design, which soon became very popular.  In hearths backings of iron and brick were soon preferred.  At the same time other types of decoration became fashionable on other types of domestic pottery, such as willow pattern.

Dining room

When it became unfashionable delftware was removed and replaced, soon entering the salvage market, making it easy for dealers to scoop up and sell as collectibles.  At the same time, English  imitations of the Dutch examples, remained lower in cost.  There is no reason why General Yorke or Mr Robertson, both wealthy collectors, should not have been able to source Dutch tiles if so desired, but at the same time the more inexpensive and more easily accessible English tiles might have been preferred.
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The Impressed, Gilded and Painted Leather

Detail of the Oak Room showing both carved oak, on the left and gilded and painted leather work on the right, with newer wood components fitted to tie in the wooden section, aesthetically, with the leather hangings.

The ornamental richness of the antique leather wall hangings installed in Plas Newydd by General Yorke are defined by bright colour and ornamental richness.  Sometimes referred to as Spanish leather or gilt leather (Dutch goudleer, Flemish goudleder, and French cuir doré), they are impressed or embossed and painted, and they combine many elements of wood carving, oil painting and tapestry, with themes that were all popular in the 17th century, but in a medium that is far less frequently preserved in British museums and period homes.  General Yorke, in his catalogues of the house dating to 1884 and 1888, puts them in the 16th century, but does not explain why he assigns this date to them.

Parrots, such as the two green ones shown in this scene in the Oak Room at Plas Newydd, were very popular in Dutch art of the 17th century of all kinds, reflecting the exotic discoveries of the Dutch East India Company and representing the excitement of exploration and the luxuries, of which parrots are an example, that they returned to the Netherlands, associated with wealth, prestige and status.

Some of the best work was produced in the Netherlands, where the most accomplished gilt leather craftsmen, such as Martinus van den Heuvel the Younger (c.1647-1711), were recognized and celebrated as masters of the art.  There may have been many more leather wall hangings, also referred to as panels, in the new wing that General Yorke built adjacent to the original Plas Newydd cottage, but the examples that survive in the Oak Room and on the upper staircase are remarkable in their own right, surrounded by ornamental panelling, each distinctive piece retaining a character of its own.  The majority of examples in Britain are actually from the Netherlands, which was the main producer of gilt leather, and even where it was produced in other countries, it was strongly influenced by Dutch examples.

Tapestry and leather hangings were the most expensive of all of the decorative arts used as wall coverings, far more labour-intensive than wood panelling and wainscotting.  Sadly, there are remarkably few easily accessible sources of information about this extraordinarily rich medium. The art work is often glorious, emulating tapestry, embroidery and oil painting, but with the added splendour of the three-dimensional embossing, with often intense colours, including silver and gold, contributing a real sense of  luxury and wealth.  As well as its considerable visual impact, it was also practical, offering a durable layer of insulation.  The V&A adds the interesting thought that in dining rooms it had a particular value over tapestry, as leather hangings did not retain any of the smell imparted by food.  The examples at Plas Newydd demonstrate its value as a form of decorative art.

Gilt leather wall hanging. The Oak Room with a Flemish and Dutch style still life of flowers typical of the 16th to late 17th centuries.

Embossed and painted leather wall hangings became popular in the wealthiest households in the 16th century, first in Europe and then via the Low Countries into England.  Its popularity was rejuvenated once again during the 18th century, when it was particularly influenced by Indian and Oriental examples. The success of Dutch and Flemish gilt leather work is comparable to delftware and oil painting, and like both, there was a large export market for embossed leather.  In situ examples are still to be found throughout Europe and beyond and are an important component of museums specializing in the decorative arts.  Although leather wall hangings were considered to be durable when compared with tapestries, which were vulnerable to insect incursions and damp, their long-term survival rate has not been poor, and what remains represents a tiny percentage of what was produced.

The so-called gilding, which is incredibly convincing, is apparently not gold, but a cleverly devised concoction developed to resemble it:

The shiny surface on gilt leather is not real gold. The golden surface is created by silver leaves coated with an oil-resinous varnish intensely coloured with yellow substances such as aloe and saffron. These ‘gilded’ leather panels are subsequently decorated with fashionable ornamental patterns.  The designs and decorative motives are either directly transferred to the silver leaf (or the gold varnish) with inked wooden moulds, or they are directly impressed on moist leather, after the gilding, with wooden or metallic moulds, adequate to give the surface a more or less sharp relief.  The transferred designs are often painted with covering pigments, but mostly with transparent organic colours, lacquers and coloured varnishes in an oil medium.  [Gilt Leather Society]

The Gilt Leather Society also describes the steps that followed:

Gilt-leathers with a flat surface are further impressed with punches which border and enhance the scenes and motifs, often complete them, and make vibrant the unpainted gold or silver surfaces. The decoration obtained with plates and moulds is repeated skin after skin, or divided over a few skins, which once connected form a continuous design. The assembly of artefacts is completed by sewing or by gluing the decorated skins.

A design reminiscent of the Italian style of grotteschi pioneered by Raphael after the discovery of the Roman wall paintings in the Domus Aurea in Rome

Utterly fascinating. The Netherlands Institute for Conservation, Arts and Science (NICAS) divides gilt leather into three principal types: flat with decorative repetitive patterns, embossed with decorative or illustrative or representational depictions (figures 11-13), and lastly flat with painted scenes.  Although initially following designs developed in textile production, particularly silk brocades, in the 1620s Dutch leather craftsmen began to emboss leather to produce a three-dimensional element to their work, and they began to explore designs that were not derived exclusively from textiles, as described by NICAS:

Designs in the very fashionable auricular style were introduced. Exuberant naturalistic motifs, such as foliage, garlands, flowers, insects, birds and other animals, elegantly covered the whole surface, without a defined orientation. Allegorical or mythological figures were often used, with themes such as the five senses, the four seasons, the four elements and vanitas symbols.  This renewed gilt leather was in great demand, both inside and outside the Netherlands. By the end of the seventeenth century designs underwent a change in style. Patterns became symmetrical, the embossments diminished and subsequently disappeared, patterns again began to mimic textile designs. This reflected the French influence in the decorative arts and in architecture at the time. [Posthuma de Boer et al 2016 (NICAS), p.21]

Detail of floral still life shown further up the page

It seems remarkable that the leatherwork has survived as well as it has, given its inherent fragility over long periods of time, and its construction, which the  Gilt Leather Society describes as “a delicate sandwich of materials.”  Unsurprisingly, given the complexity of production and the resulting costs, gilt leather was gradually replaced by wallpaper after the mid 17th century, undergoing a brief revival in the 18th century.

I have been unable to find any analysis of the leather work at Plas Newydd, so have no idea what sort of date/s could be assigned to them.  All the examples in Plas Newydd are impressive for their richness and detail, although they represent a variety of styles, and possibly span more than one period.  Although leather panels were used in churches and other ecclesiastical institutions, they were also frequently employed in wealthy homes and high status civic settings, with themes appropriate to those contexts, used in a similar way to tapestries and later wallpaper.  There is nothing in the Plas Newydd wall hangings to suggest a religious connection.
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Lincrusta wall coverings

Lincrusta wallpaper in the dining room at Plas Newydd

The dining room at Plas Newydd was remodelled by General Yorke who panelled the room and provided it with its Lincrusta wallpaper, which is not unlike the rich colour of the gilt leather wall hangings in the Oak Room, but was far less expensive and was designed specifically to cover large areas.

In the 1860s Frederick Walton (1834 – 1928) created Linoleum as a floor covering, water-resistant and hard wearing.  In 1877 he followed this success with a patent for Linoleum Muralis (wall Linoleum) but it was marketed as Lincrusta-Walton.  The Lin was from the Latin Linum for linseed, from which Linoleum and Lincrusta were made, and Crusta meaning relief.  It was employed, as the Lincrusta website puts it “from royal homes to railway carriages,” replacing wainscotting, plasterwork and leather hangings, and is still sold today.  Not only was it was a new, attractive and durable solution to decorating walls, but it was water resistant too.  The manufacturing process combines gelatinous linseed oil and powdered wood, which is combined to form a paste that is first spread onto paper and then passed through steel rollers, one of which has the required pattern embossed on it.  At Plas Newydd it does a good job of emulating the leather wall hangings and providing a suitable background for carved furniture.
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Plaster-work ceilings

The main bedroom ceiling

Unlike the stained glass and the wooden panelling, it seems inconceivable that Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby could have afforded even one plasterwork ceiling, but it was certainly not beyond the means of General John Yorke, whose purchase of the house was followed by elaborate additions of his own, including the decorative half-timbering of the original cottage that remains today as well as the addition of an entire new wing.  The same can be said for Mr Robertson.  I have not seen any record of what fitted in either General Yorke’s or Mr Roberston’s wings, so the ceilings in the cottage and the new wing cannot be compared.  Given that most of the interior wood and glass of Plas Newydd was assembled from decorative arts installed at other locations, the first question with the plasterwork ceilings is when were they added?

Removing ceilings from one building and transferring them to another sounds ambitious but was occasionally carried out.  For example, at Emral Hall near Worthenbury (Wrexham), the ceiling, together with panelling and stone carvings, were lifted from a room and transferred in their entirety to Portmeirion when Emral Hall was scheduled to be demolished.   An example from Hyde Abbey House in Hyde in Winchester had been curtailed to fit its new home, making it obvious that it had been transferred from another location because the design had had to be curtailed to fit its new home.  Most of the plasterwork ceilings at Plas Newydd, however, look as though they were designed for the rooms in which they were installed, rather than having been cut out of another building. This means that at least some of the ceilings were probably custom-made for Plas Newydd and probably date to the latter half of the 19th century. Even if this assumption is correct, it is unknown which company might have been responsible for the work.

Ceiling in the second bedroom

In the 19th century a number of innovations were made in the manufacturing of ceiling plaster.  Gelatine moulds were introduced in the mid 1800s, and hessian began to be added to plaster with timber laths to make it simultaneously more light-weight and much stronger. This resulted in a product that was both a lot easier to move from a workshop and to install.  At the same time, the introduction of ornate wall papers created a demand for much simpler geometric ceiling plaster.  Without professional insights into the Plas Newydd ceilings, it is impossible to go much further, except to observe that the plaster ceilings are all very nicely made and consist of several different designs.  The pattern in the Oak Room is repeated in the second bedroom and the dining room, but the examples in the library and the main bedroom are unique to those rooms.  That in the main bedroom is particularly ornate.  If anyone has any expertise in this area and have an opinion about the Plas Newydd ceilings, I would be very interested in hearing from you.
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The library

The library

Final Comments

I have not found anything published on the subject of the Plas Newydd decorative arts that have been covered in this post, so the above information is regrettably very short on details relating to the examples in the house.  If you are reading this and have an opinion about any of the subjects covered here, it would be great to hear from you.

Although the two wings added by the General and Mr Robertson respectively were demolished due to dry rot in the 1960s, the original cottage with all its embellishments has been beautifully preserved, and this provides insights not only into the achievements of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby but also into types of decorative art that were favoured by their successors and, in the case of Lincrusta, only became available long after the deaths of the ladies.

The sheer intensity and concentration of the decoration, even without furnishings and collected objects, would probably have stunned Elizabethan and Jacobean audiences, and would certainly have impressed 18th and early 19th century visitors, but although every item is divorced from its original context, each individual piece has a very distinctive voice of its own.  The resulting kaleidoscope of colours and textures is remarkable and very satisfying.  An amazing visual experience and, as described in the Visiting Details in Part 1, a great day out.

 

 

Sources

My thanks again to Michael Freeman for the Plas Newydd pages on his excellent Early Tourists in Wales website.

The audio guide for Plas Newydd, free with your ticket, is a useful introduction to all the different aspects of the house as you are walking around.

Books, booklets and papers

Brazil, Helena 2018.  Lincrusta 1877-1887:  The development, designs and character of Lincrusta-Walton.  Unpublished M.A. thesis.  University of Lincoln for the degree of MA by Research, September 2018
https://repository.lincoln.ac.uk/articles/thesis/Lincrusta-Walton_1877_-1887_The_Development_Design_and_Character_of_Lincrusta-Walton/24325975/1

Bostwick, David 1993. Decorative Plasterwork of the Yorkshire Region 1570-1670. Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Sheffield
https://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/id/eprint/1895/

van Dam, Jan Daniel and Pieter Jan Tichelaar 1984. Dutch Tiles in the Philadelphia Museum of Art.  Philadelphia Museum of Art
https://ia800201.us.archive.org/18/items/dutchtilesinphil00phil/dutchtilesinphil00phil.pdf

Durbin, Lesley 2005.  Architectural Tiles. Conservation and Restoration. From the Medieval Period to the Twentieth Century.  Elsevier Butterworth-Heinemann
https://www.academia.edu/34465762/Architectural_Tiles_Conservation_and_Restoration

Fleming, John. and Honour, Hugh 1977, 1989 (2nd edition). The Penguin Dictionary of Decorative Arts. Viking

Gapper, Claire, Karen Parker and Edward Roberts 2002.  Elizabethan and Jacobean Decorative Features at Hyde, Winchester.  Proceedings of the Hampshire Field Club and Archaeological Society (Hampshire Studies), 57, 2002, p.59-80
https://www.hantsfieldclub.org.uk/publications/hampshirestudies/digital/2000s/vol57/Gapper%26others.pdf

Kamermans, John 2014.  Developments in Research on Dutch Tiles.  In Susanna Varela Flor (ed.) A Herança de Santos Simōes Nova Perspectivas para o Estudo da Azuleraria e da Cerâmica.

van Lemmen, Hans. 2005. Delftware Tiles. Shire Album

Osborne, Harold (ed.) 1970. The Oxford Companion to Art. Oxford University Press

Osborne, Harold (ed.) 1975. The Oxford Companion to the Decorative Arts. Oxford University Press

Posthuma de Boer, Martine, Eloy Koldeweij, Roger M. Groves 2016. Gilt Leather Artefacts: White Paper on Material Characterization and Improved Conservation Strategies within NICAS, Delft. Netherlands Institute for Conservation, Arts and Science (NICAS)
https://www.academia.edu/32424868/Gilt_Leather_Artefacts_White_Paper_on_Material_Characterization_and_Improved_Conservation_Strategies_within_NICAS_Delft_2016

Pratt, Nigel 2020. Decorative Plasterwork in South-West England, c. 1550-1640, Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Exeter
https://ore.exeter.ac.uk/repository/handle/10871/121309
Volume 1 https://ore.exeter.ac.uk/repository/bitstream/handle/10871/121309/PrattN%20Vol%201.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y
Volume 2 https://ore.exeter.ac.uk/repository/bitstream/handle/10871/121309/PrattN%20Vol%202_TPC.pdf?sequence=3&isAllowed=y

Wells-Cole, Anthony 1997.  Art and Decoration in Elizabethan and Jacobean England.  Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art / Yale University Press

Veysey, A. Geoffrey and David Freeman 1988.  Plas Newydd and the Ladies of Llangollen. Glyndwr District Council.  (Based on the booklet by Veysey, County Archivist for Clwyd County Council, published in 1980.  Two sections were substantially updated by Freeman in 1988 – the Oak Room and the Ladies’ Bedchamber).

Websites

Adorares
The History and Modern Revival of Spanish Leather Wallpapers
https://www.adorares.com/exploring-european-crafts/the-history-and-modern-revival-of-spanish-leather-wallpapers

British Listed Buildings
Lleweni Hall, including Stables to the NE. A Grade II* Listed Building in Denbigh, Denbighshire
https://britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/300001060-lleweni-hall-including-stables-to-the-ne-denbigh

British Renaissance Plasterwork – The web site of Dr Claire Gapper, based on her PhD research
British Renaissance Plasterwork
https://clairegapper.info/

Building Conservation
Lincrusta-Walton and Other 19th-century Raised Relief Wall Coverings, Building Conservation. By Helena Brazil and Paul Croft
https://www.buildingconservation.com/articles/lincrusta-walton/lincrusta-walton.html
Repairing Lime Plaster Ceilings. By Sean Wheatley
https://www.buildingconservation.com/articles/lime-plaster-ceilings/lime-plaster-ceilings.htm

Brynkinalt Estate
https://www.brynkinalt.co.uk/

Coflein
Emral Hall, Worthenbury
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/35805/
Town Hall, Portmeirion
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/407060/

Delfts Aardewerk (trans. Delft pottery – articles in English)
https://delftsaardewerk.nl/en
The city of Delft in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. By Céline Ariaans, 17th March 2020
https://delftsaardewerk.nl/en/learn/6691-the-city-of-delft-in-the-seventeenth-and-eighteenth-centuries

Driehaus Museum
“The Most Perfect and Beautiful of All Wall Decorations” October 16th, 2016
https://driehausmuseum.org/blog/view/the-most-perfect-and-beautiful-of-all-wall-decorations

Gilt Leather Society
What is gilt leather?
https://giltleathersociety.org/gilt-leather/what-is-gilt-leather/
Gallery
https://giltleathersociety.org/gilt-leather/gallery/

Heritage Plaster Services
Architecture & Plaster Design in the Victorian Period
https://www.heritageplasterservices.co.uk/blog/architecture-plaster-design-in-the-victorian-period

Historic England
Historic Fibrous Plaster in the UK Guidance on its Care and Management
https://historicengland.org.uk/advice/technical-advice/buildings/inspection-and-maintenance-of-fibrous-plaster-ceilings/
Or – https://cadw.gov.wales/sites/default/files/2019-07/Historic%20Fibrous%20Plaster%20Eng_0.pdf

Internet Archive
Catalogue of designs of Lincrusta-Walton manufactured by Fr. Beck & Co., branch of National Wall Paper Co. 1900
https://archive.org/details/gri_33125000661575/mode/2up

The Leiden Collection
Young woman in a niche with parrot and cage
https://www.theleidencollection.com/archives/artwork/GD-105_young-woman-in-a-niche-with-a-parrot-and-cage_2023.pdf

Lincrusta
Home page
https://lincrusta.com/
Brand Story

https://lincrusta.com/about-us/#brand-story

Lincrusta Heritage
Lincrusta-Walton
https://www.lincrustaheritage.co.uk/lincrusta-walton

Homes&Antiques
Tiles of style: why both antique and new Delftware will always be in fashion
https://www.homesandantiques.com/antiques/collecting-guides-antiques/delftware-tiles-collecting-guide

Netherlands Institute for Conservation, Art and Science
Project: Gilt Leather Artefacts
https://www.nicas-research.nl/projects/gilt-leather-artefacts/

Regts Delft Tiles
FAQ
https://www.regtsdelfttiles.com/faq#delfttiles
Where do you still find those antique Dutch Delft tiles?
https://www.regtsdelfttiles.com/blog/where-do-you-still-find-those-antique-dutch-delft-tiles.html

The Stained Glass Museum
Glossary
The Development of Stained Glass in England

https://stainedglassmuseum.com/glossary

V&A
‘Delftware’: tin-glazed earthenware tiles
https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/delftware-tiles?srsltid=AfmBOoqHATTpRhhTIlBSCGJT3g2_qS8-qt5mh3L7xanNqOlu-Pmp2FG4
Gilt-leather Panel ca. 1650-1670
https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O370332/panel-martinus-van-den/

The Victorian Emporium
The Origin of Mouldings, August 4th 2011
https://www.thevictorianemporium.com/publications/history/article/the_origin_of_mouldings?srsltid=AfmBOoqiYBY6zNGjHqpghfsYyUY_xhR4TvZfS4t6S4GfZPrud4jOU-Sf

 

 

Beyond the Walls: Chester circular river walk

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The dotted green line is the only way on to the footbridge avoiding steps.

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For those with unwilling legs please note that in [squared brackets, and highlighted in bold], are alternative routes that avoid steps and any other observed challenges.  On the above maps the dotted line in green, is the only way of getting on to the Queen’s Park footbridge avoiding steps.

As well as the numbered sites, turquoise stars show other sites nearby that may be of interest.  Each of the numbered and starred features deserves a post in its own right rather than the short burst of text allowed for each, but hopefully there is enough to make the walk informative as well as enjoyable, and in some cases I have hyperlinked to sites with more useful details.

You can download the text of the walk, including the maps, as a PDF here (but without the introduction, the list of sources and without ink-hogging images).

 

The dotted green line is the only way on to the footbridge avoiding steps

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Introduction

View through the chancel arch of St Mary’s Nunnery through to the Ship Gate. Grosvenor Park.

Together with the city walls, this is my favourite walk in Chester, incorporating some lovely riverside footpaths and green spaces beginning at the Little Roodee car park on Castle Drive.  The entire walk is on metalled surfaces, and is therefore very suitable for all seasons.  It starts with the Grosvenor Bridge, turning in to Overleigh Victorian Cemetery and taking it from there along the River Walk.

There is plenty to enjoy along the south bank of the Dee, with lovely and peaceful riverside walks separating points of interest such as Minerva’s shrine, Handbridge with the Old Dee Bridge and Weir, and the Queen’s Park footbridge. The Groves is the northern counterpart to the River Walk, with its Victorian grandstand and array of cafes, ice cream parlours and the southern stretches of the Roman-Medieval walls.  Back past the Old Dee Bridge, the walk takes in the former old Dee mills, the Gothic Revival hydroelectric station, the remains of the former prison’s outer wall, the Wheeler Building that houses the Riverside Museum and the Royal Infirmary stained glass, and then returns along the river bank to the Little Roodee.

Ice Cream parlour on The Groves

The walk takes in several periods of Chester’s architectural history, from the Roman, through medieval periods, skipping the early Stuart and Civil War years. The Bear and Billet public house on Lower Bridge Street represents the later 17th century, but most of the remaining architectural history on the walk resumes with the Georgian architecture of the 18th century, plunging headlong into ambitious Victorian expansion and alteration.  From a distance, seen from the Grosvenor Bridge, is the Art Deco water tower, which is a nice addition to the mix.  Two examples of the less fortunate periods of 1960s and 70s architecture that afflict Chester like a bad rash also appear, but although one of them is particularly bad (the “Salmon Leap” apartments on the Handbridge side of the Old Dee Bridge) the other is somewhat less objectionable (the ex-Cheshire County County building, now the University of Chester’s Wheeler Building).  A very modern building, nicely done on a budget, is the cafe in the Little Roodee car park with its environmentally friendly “green” roof.

 

The Walk

1) Roodee carpark, toilets and café

The Little Roodee Cafe

The walk starts from the Little Roodee car park on Castle Drive, which lies along the northern edge of the River Dee.  There are plenty of other places in Chester to park, and there is also the very reliable Park and Ride, but this is a useful place to start the walk, including a very nice café with excellent coffee and good snacks, with public toilets within the café (there are other public toilets on The Groves, opposite the bandstand, shown below).  The bottom of the car park provides a good viewing point for no.2, the Grosvenor Bridge.

For those wanting to explore the river walk to the east, circling the edge of the Roodee and over to the west of Chester, this is also an excellent starting point.

The postcode for the carpark is CH1 1SL or the exact location for the entrance to the car park is What3Words ///swung.statue.limp), which can be used in most SatNavs.  If you are coming in by Park and Ride, ask the driver tell you when the stop is approaching for Adobe (big black glass building) on the Grosvenor Road.  The return bus stop is opposite Adobe on the castle side of the road.

2) Grosvenor Bridge

The Grosvenor Bridge

For the best view of the bridge, head downhill in the car park towards the river and turn right towards the bridge, crossing under one of its vast arches.  Look back to see a great view of the the entire span.  For centuries the only bridge across the Dee at Chester was where the late Medieval Old Dee Bridge is now located, following the line established by the Roman bridge at the end of what is now Lower Bridge Street.  This was becoming seriously congested by the 18th century, when both the population and the economy were growing at a considerable pace, and a new bridge was an urgent requirement.  Local architect Thomas Harrison won the contract with his daring proposal for a 200ft (61m) single span that would not interrupt tall-masted river traffic.  It was not merely a new artery for Chester, but a statement of civic pride.  A plaque in the side of the bridge records that work began after an Act of Parliament was passed in 1825, and was paid for by a public loan of £50,000.  It was opened by Princess Victoria on 17th October 1832 (5 years before she became Queen), and was paid for by tolls on both the Grosvenor and Old Dee bridges until 1885, when the tolls were abolished.  The bridge remains a monumental and impressive sight today.

The Grosvenor Bridge shortly after construction. Source: Wikipedia

Retrace your steps and head back up the car park, passing in front of the cafe, and up the flight of steps to the Grosvenor Road, cross at the pedestrian lights, and turn left to walk over the bridge.  [If you want to avoid the steps, head to the other end where the car entrance is, turn left and walk up the road, Castle Drive, to the head of the steps on the corner, and cross at the pedestrian lights and turn left across the bridge].  

From the top of the bridge you can look right (or west) over the Roodee racecourse on the north bank of the river, and the impressive houses that formed the new middle class suburbs of Curzon Park which was developed in the 1840s to accommodate wealthy residents who wished to escape the narrower confines of the increasingly busy and commercial city. Some of the bigger of these buildings have been converted into apartments today.  Look left (east) and you can see the spire of St Mary’s Without The Walls, as well as the Handbridge water tower, a local landmark that is visible from various points in the Chester area, and was influenced by Art Deco designs.

Curzon Park

3) and 4) Three memorials in Overleigh Victorian Cemetery

After crossing the bridge, walk for perhaps 30 seconds and you will see a gateway on your left with wrought iron gates, one of which is open to provide access for pedestrians into the Victorian cemetery.  If you are on the opposite side of the road, there is a traffic island almost opposite to make it easier to cross.  Walk towards the information board and the bench, and pause.  The walk will continue downhill to the right, but we are briefly detouring to the left to see two of the most interesting of the memorials in the cemetery, one of which is a puzzle until you see it on the early 1850s engraving of the cemetery.

Entrance to Overleigh Cemetery

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Overleigh Cemetery in the early 1850s. Source: Wikipedia

Overleigh cemetery was given the go-ahead by the Chester Cemetery Act in 1848.  The land was acquired from the Marquis of Westminster, who exchanged it for a shareholding in the company.  Work was forced to stop for seven months when the money raised was spent, and was not completed until new shareholders could be found.  The cemetery opened in 1850.  Like the Grosvenor Bridge, Overleigh Cemetery, was not merely the result of a Victorian efficiency drive and the desire to return a profit, but also a matter of improving the city in ways that demonstrated a profound interest in the character and status of the expanding city.  Although the cemetery was a pragmatic response to the inability of churchyards to meet demand, the layout and planting of the cemetery reflect country house garden and leisure park designs, with curvilinear drives, gothic revival architecture, a lake, plenty of of trees of different types and a rustic bridge.  Sadly, the only survivors of the architectural features from the 1850 design shown on the above engraving are the tall thin monument at far left, discussed below, and the rustic bridge at far right.  You can read more about the cemetery and its fashionable and elegant design on the blog here.

Now head left past the bench and stop a few seconds away in front of a nicely executed faux Grade II listed Gothic shrine featuring an effigy beneath tan elaborate canopy. It puzzled me that there was no inscription on the shrine, but the actual grave ledger lies flat in front of the shrine over the top of the actual grave, complete with the elusive inscription.  The shrine belongs to the Reverend Henry Raikes, who died in 1854, aged 72. The shrine was designed by architect Thomas Penson, who was the landscape architect for the entire cemetery and who built several buildings in Chester.  It was erected in 1858, funded by public subscription, the progress of which was frequently reported in the local newspapers.  As well as the former Chancellor of the Chester, Diocese Raikes was a philanthropist, a trustee and governor of the Blue Coat Hospital and one of the founders of the Chester “Ragged Schools” that provided education for pauper children.

The ruins of the Robert Turner memorial

Immediately to the right of the Raikes shrines, the second monument of note is the grave marker for Robert Turner (1790-1852), a Chester brewer and wine merchant who, in 1848 was Sheriff of Chester, a largely administrative but important function with the responsibility of keeping the peace, closely linked in to the work of the courts and the prison.  The memorial as it stands today looks very peculiar, a bit like a three-tier cake on space-rocket jet nozzles.  The clues to its original appearance actually still lie at its feet.  Three stone columns lie horizontally, when not semi-concealed by undergrowth.  Look at the engraving above and find the building at top right that looks like a little Classical temple.  This is how the Turner grave marker originally looked. It collapsed at some time in the past, and the tiered roof and although it has been considerably tidied up, reconstruction is no longer possible, and this strangely truncated form is all that is left standing of the memorial monument.

Retrace your steps past the bench and head down the hill until you reach a tall monument (4) in a triangular intersection of the cemetery drives and pause to have a look at it. 

This is not a burial monument but a memorial to William Makepeace Thackeray, 1790-1849, (uncle of the famous novelist) who moved from Denbigh to Chester to practice, and became a great success as a physician, and was renowned for his philanthropic and charitable works. He was buried in Chester Cathedral, but this memorial and its inscriptions celebrate his achievements, including “His attention to their charitable institutions / His consideration for the sick and needy / His kindness to the schoolboy and the orphan.” The memorial also serves as a useful anchor for the cemetery, a suitably impressive focal point that helps to give this part of the cemetery a sense of cohesion.  This is also a very good position to pause and take in the wonderful selection of mature trees, most of which were planted when the cemetery was first laid out.  There is a variety of species, and they were an essential part of the parks-and gardens style layout that was very popular in the Victorian period.

Head to the left. You will see the gateway pillars straight ahead of you.  This opens on to River Lane.  Turn left on to River Lane and turn right when you reach the end, heading east along the lovely River Walk.  The walk from Overleigh to Edgar’s Field is a nice one, consisting of a metalled road flanked by trees and shrubs, with fields to the south and views of the river, depending on the time of year, to the north.

You will emerge from the path onto a short residential road, Greenway Street, and opposite is another gateway, this time into Edgar’s Field. 

5) Edgar’s Field

The entrance to Edgar’s Field

Go through the gate into Edgar’s Field

Edgar’s Field is an open green space given to Handbridge by the first Duke of Westminster in 1892.  The name Edgar, so the story goes, refers to the early medieval King Edgar, great-grandson of Alfred the Great, who was crowned King of England in both Bath and Chester.  His Chester coronation was said to have followed a meeting near the field in AD 973, with leaders (either six or eight) from other regions  after which he was rowed by members of the visiting delegation to St John’s Church, just a little further upriver.  How much of this is legend and how much reality is anyone’s guess.

6) The sandstone outcrop 

Straight ahead there is a choice of going uphill to the right or sticking to the river walk on the left.

You will go right, but pause to look at the amazing sandstone outcrop.  This is a particularly nice piece of bedrock, formed of sedimentary layers laid down, during the Triassic period, 252 to 201 million years ago, when the landscape consisted of Sahara-like desert and abraided rivers.  This is also the period when the dinosaurs Pseuduchium Archosaur (ancestral to modern crocodiles and alligators) and Chirotherium are found, survivors of the Permian extinction (in which 95%) of dinosaurs were wiped out, and of which fossilized footprints have been found in the Triassic sandstones on Hilbre Island at the top of the Wirral.

Sandstone formations on Edgar’s Field

The various lines and colours visible in the Edgar’s Field rock represent the different layers of sediment (bedding) that were laid down by rivers and floods that were laid down as muds and have built up over time.  Nice features include both cross-bedding and slumping, geological features exclusive to sedimentary rocks.  Differences in colour reflect differences in the chemical composition of the sediments as they were laid down, a dramatic example of which is shown in the above photograph of the outcrop.  See more about the Cheshire sandstone in this PDF on the Sandstone Ridge Trust website.

Walk along the path to the right of the outcrop.  A second outcrop appears on your right, and on the face that looks over the big open green is the Minerva shrine, so leave the path and walk up the green slope.

7) Edgar’s Field and the Minerva Shrine

When you are standing in front of the shrine, you will find it very water-eroded.  It is carved directly into outcrop, one of only two known to be still in situ in Britain, and is a Grade II listed Scheduled Monument (1.45m high and 0.73m wide).  The sandstone surround is Victorian in date, added in the hope of preventing further erosion.

The Roman 20th Legion, the Valeria Victrix, arrived in Chester (Deva) in AD76, and in one form or another the Romans remained in Deva until around 380.  Although outside the Roman city walls, Handbridge was an important location because it was the quarry for the Roman town and its walls, the source of its red sandstone building blocks.  Further along the path on an interpretation board is a reconstruction of what the shrine would have looked like, originally with an owl on Minerva’s left shoulder, possibly holding a shield in her left hand, and a spear in her right hand.  Minerva was an interesting choice.  Although better known goddess of wisdom and knowledge, she also served as a protector for those engaged in defensive war, a subtle distinction from aggressive war that might well be attractive to those building protective walls.  The little cave to the right of the shrine was probably carved out to hold votive offerings.  The area around the shrine was excavated in the early 1920s, revealing both that the quarry was in use at around AD100 and that subsequently soil was imported to cover the quarry floor in the late-second century. Roman occupation remains dating from that time on were found on the site. The site was again used as a quarry during the Middle Ages, when Historic England speculates that the Minerva carving may have been re-interpreted in Christian terms and re-used as a Christian shrine.

It is worth walking down to the edge of the river, through the line of magnificent lime trees, to enjoy the excellent views over the medieval Old Dee Bridge bridge.  From there, follow the path for a short distance to the gates out of the park.  You now have the Old Dee Bridge on your left and Handbridge on your right.

8) Handbridge

Handbridge

Handbridge has always has an extra-mural personality of its own.  From the mid 12th century there were mills and quays at Handbridge, when parts of the district were owned by St Mary’s Benedictine nunnery, which seems to have taken over the entire manor by the 13th century.  In the late 14th century industrial activity seems to have been represented by the production of glass, and by the 15th century it is thought to have been a popular area of Welsh migrant settlement.  Welsh residents in the 16th century included a high percentage of the city’s brewers and ale sellers. In the Victorian era it became known as one of the poorer areas, with a high proportion of industrial worker.  Today Handbridge has gone upmarket and is now an attractive residential location with a villagey-atmosphere, with some excellent cafés and pubs for those looking to take a break at this point.  Both Spoilt for Choice and Brown Sugar cafés are great brunch/lunch stops, and the Old Ship Inn is a very fine pub.

Nathaniel Buck’s view of Handbridge in 1928. Source: MutualArt

9) The Old Dee Bridge 

Do not cross the bridge, because the walk continues on the same side of the river, but if you want to stand in the middle and admire the weir, discussed next, it’s an excellent place for getting a good view. 

The Old Dee Bridge

The oldest known bridge to cross the river at this point was Roman, carrying the Via Praetoria from the south gate over the river to link up with the Roman road network, with roads leading directly from Chester to the southeast via Whitchurch to Wroxeter (Vicronium) and the south to London (Londinium) and Caerleon (Isca), and along the north Wales coast to Holyhead (Segontium).  It must have been rebuilt several times over the 300 years of Roman occupation.  The current late Medieval bridge replaces an early Norman bridge, but apparently fell down during the floods of 1227 and had to be replaced.  The construction is interesting.  It is built of the usual local red sandstone, but for reasons unknown, instead of being evenly distributed along the length of the bridge, the arches are each of a different width, giving it a splendidly individual appearance.

The Bridgegate on the opposite side of the river is discussed below.

10)  The Weir

Staying on the same side of the river, cross the road and follow the line of the river for a few steps until you get a good view of the weir.
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Very little is known about the weir itself.  It is generally agreed that it was at least Norman in date, but whether it was actually the elaboration of a Roman innovation is open to debate.  The Romans certainly built weirs, some of them very substantial, but at the moment there is insufficient information to determine the earliest date for it.  Walk a little further down by the side of the river and you will see that on the near side of the weir there are a series of very wide water steps, forming what looks a little like a stepped waterfall; this is a salmon leap, built to enable the fish to navigate their way upstream for spawning.  On an open day at the monitoring station last year I saw one of the salmon being caught for weighing and it looked huge!

The Salmon Leap

11) River monitoring station and ornamental water wheel

Probably the least attractive feature of the Chester riverside is a row of 1960s apartments that you will see from the north side of the river.  You now pass under the concrete overhang of these apartments. There are lovely views over Chester on your left, and you  will reach a small island with a building on it.  

River monitoring station

Water wheel reconstructed in 1988 by the Chester Civic Trust

This is the river monitoring station, where various tests are carried out on the water quality and the condition of the fish themselves.  I was lucky enough to be there on an open day last year when  an enormous salmon was pulled out for weighing before being returned to its journey upstream.  In front of it is a small water wheel, which was installed in the 1980s as a reminder of the former Dee mills that used to be a dominant feature of the medieval riverside and an all-important feature of Chester’s economy in the Middle Ages.  Beyond it is a small sluice that once regulated water into the narrow channel that forms the island.

Carry on walking along the Riverside Walk, enjoying the greenery, until you reach the footbridge, which passes above the path, but has a flight of shallow steps running up either side of it so that you can reach the bridge from the path. [The alternative approach to the bridge, avoiding the steps from the river walk up to the bridge, is a rather long way round and is shown on the above maps as a dotted green line that takes you along Queens Park Road and around Victoria Crescent].

 

12) The lovely Queen’s Park footbridge

In 1851 it was decided that Chester needed a second suburb, in addition to Curzon Park, to be named Queen’s Park, and this was developed throughout the 1850s.  This was also built on the south bank of the river, this time opposite The Groves.

In 1852 a suspension footbridge was built to connect Queen’s Park with Chester, becoming the Queen’s Park Bridge.  The predecessor of the current Queen’s Park footbridge was built in 1852. In 1922 this was taken down, and work began on a new suspension bridge that opened, with some ceremony, in April 1923.  For more information about the opening of the bridge and its contemporary conditions of use, see the entry on the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies blog.

Conceptually, the bridge is the polar opposite of the vast solidity and monumentality of the later 1832 stone Grosvenor Bridge. The 1923 bridge is superbly elegant with delicate lattice metalwork. This latticing and the suspension cables supply a light, airy feeling, which is something to do with the sense of it hanging freely rather than being solidly rooted in the riverbed.  It is a perfect partner for the light-hearted promenade known as The Groves, with its lovely buildings and the similarly elegant bandstand, which is still used today, and the little ice-cream turrets.  Pride in the achievement, common to so many Victorian enterprises, is declared in the panels at the top of the suspension towers, which give the name of the bridge and the date of its construction.  Just as on the Grosvenor Park Lodge, the bridge’s towers feature the shields of Chester’s Norman earls.

13) The Grosvenor Park

The understated river-side entrance to the Grosvenor Park at the end of the footbridge

Walking off the bridge on the Chester side you will see a flight of steps straight ahead of you.  Just before the steps, on your right, is the understated gateway into the Grosvenor Park. 

I have included the park partly because it surprises me how many residents and visitors seem to bypass it, and it is lovely on a sunny day.  The Grosvenor Park was the brainchild of Richard, the second the Marquis of Westminster, following the example of similar projects elsewhere.  Like many wealthy Victorians, he undertook a number of philanthropic projects, and in 1867 the park opened for the benefit of local Chester inhabitants.  Unlike many town and city parks this one was not paid for partly by subscription; it was, in its entirety, a gift to the city from the Marquis, who chose the designer of the successful Birkenhead Park, landscape architect Edward Kemp (1817-1891), to lay out his new public space.

Today it is a beautifully maintained space with a miniature railway operating in the summer, a rose garden, a couple of vantage points from which to inspect the views over the river and some lovely wide open spaces, together with the shade of trees for those who prefer a bit of cover, in which to relax.  Although this is not a formal park, in terms of the big municipal floral plantings that characterize some English parks, there are colourful beds dotted around and at the top left corner of the park there is a charming wheel-shaped rose garden that is lovely in the summer months, with a variety of colours, and some lovely scented species, with benches around its edges.  As in the cemetery, which had opened 17 years previously, the trees were seen as a major feature of park and there are some splendid specimens.  The pond may once have been ornamental, but is now surrounded by tall reeds, providing a splendid refuge for wildlife.  I have seen the rails for the miniature railway but not the train –  I really must find out when it runs!  There is plenty of seating throughout the park, and as well as permanent sculptural pieces, there are often temporary modern art installations dotted throughout, which may or may not be your cup of tea, but are always genuinely interesting, and usually reference the natural world.  Look out for information panels dotted throughout the park.  The lodge, discussed next, serves as a coffee shop during the summer.  It’s not on the map because it is closed in the winter.


Ferris wheel in the Grosvenor Park

 

14) Four Medieval monuments

The arch from St Michael’s Church

As you walk into the park along a metalled path, you will soon come to a set of three clearly medieval (as opposed to mock-gothic) monuments set back from the main path, with a little side path of its own.  These were all moved here from elsewhere in Chester, and serves as a miniature outdoor museum.  The first one that you encounter is a gothic arch from St Michael’s Church, which is still standing but was largely rebuilt in the 1840s by James Harrison, and it is possible that the gateway was removed at that time.

Next, following the side path is the little Jacob’s Well, originally installed on The Groves as a drinking fountain and at its base a water dish for dogs.  The keystone inscription is from the New Testament and reads “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again.”  Finally, and most impressive of the three, is the arch and flanking niches that once linked the nave of St Mary’s monastic church to its chancel, a sad reminder of the absolute total loss of St Mary’s medieval nunnery.  The photograph of it is below under no.27, where the nunnery is discussed.
xxx

Keep walking across the intersection, bearing right, and you will immediately come across the Ship Gate, which once sat to the west of the Bridgegate at the end of Lower Bridge Street providing pedestrian access  from the riverside to the city.  This was moved three times, first in 1831 to a private garden in the Abbey Square, next in 1897  to the Groves and finally in 1923 to its present location in Grosvenor Park.

The Ship Gate, looking back towards the St Mary’s chancel arch

Between the St Mary’s arch and the Ship Gate there is a path going uphill to the main park, with handrails, shown in the photograph above.  Walk up the slope to the main drive towards the statue at the end.

15) Viewing platform over the Dee

If you follow the main drive to the statue of Richard, the second the Marquis of Westminster, you will see, slightly to your right, a large viewing platform with seating around its circuit.  The view over Chester meadows towards Boughton was probably a bit better in the late 1800s, but is still good today.

16) Grosvenor Park Lodge

When the park was opened in 1867, it had a lodge at the main gate and this remains today, used as a café in the summer months.  It was designed by successful local architect John Douglas who is best known for the Eastgate Clock, but who built a great many buildings in different styles in Chester.  It was built in the popular half-timbered revival style over red sandstone.  The brightly coloured statuettes on black timbers on the lodge show King William I, who appointed Hugh d’Avranches, better known as Hugh Lupus as the first Earl of Chester from 1071 until his death in 1101.  Hugh is shown, together with the successive Earls of Chester, ending with John de Scot (from 1232 to 1237), who died without heirs, after which the earldom reverted to the Crown.  Various family shields show locally relevant themes including the golden sheaf of the Grosvenor family, the portcullis of Westminster and the Chester city coat of arms.

17) The Grosvenor Park Archaeological Excavation

Grosvenor Park Excavations in 2024

Near to the rose garden, to its east, and for several weeks every year since 2007, an archaeological excavation takes place using students of the University of Chester to investigate the complex historical narrative of this area.  The project was initiated to provide information about the Church of St John the Baptist, and the later use of the area, including a house documented to have been built in the late 1500s by Sir Hugh Cholmondeley which was later destroyed in the English Civil War.  At the same time, given the proximity of the Roman amphitheatre on the other side of St John’s, it was hoped that some information pertaining to  extra-mural activities under the Romans might emerge, and how the position and ruins of the amphitheatre, as well as the influence of the church, impacted on the later use and development of the surrounding area.  In 2025 the excavation took place between during May.  Visitors can see the excavation taking place, and the site directors and supervisors are very happy to answer any questions from the public.  An excavation Open Day is always organized towards the end of the excavation too.

18) The ruins of the east end of St John’s Church

Ruins at the east end of St John the Baptist’s

Leaving the park at the west, where the exit puts you on the path that leads back down to the footbridge, you find yourself at the east end of St John the Baptist’s Church.

St John the Baptist’s Church, marked with a green star next to the number 18, has a long and fascinating history, which is far too complicated to deal with here.  The current church was established in the 11th century outside the city walls and was the original Chester Cathedral and a collegiate church.  Its architecture is splendidly dominated by the Romanesque, featuring vast columns and gloriously rounded arches, has a wonderful if faint painted fresco, and contains a fine collection of early medieval stone funerary memorials.  Its monumental sense of indestructibility is somewhat misleading, however, as its tower came down in its entirety on Good Friday in 1881.

Without going into the church, however, you can wander around the ruins at the east end of the church.  There are plenty of information boards to explain what is going on, but the short version is that in the mid-1500s the church was too large for the congregation and the decision was made to truncate it by sealing off the eastern end which, deprived of its roof, rapidly deteriorated into ruins.  These ruins contain a splendid Norman arch, which once gave access to the chancel, as well as the usual gothic lancet (pointed) arches, shown in George Cuitt’s engraving below.  One of the other of the many features is the puzzling inclusion of an oak coffin at the top of one of the gothic arches, facing outward, shown above left.

The ruins of St John’s in the first half of the 19th century, showing a splendid Norman Romanesque arch in the foreground, which still stands, and a gothic lancet arch in the background.  By George Cuitt

19) The Anchorite Cell / Hermitage

The Anchorite cell in the grounds of St John the Baptist’s Church

Just downhill from St John’s, at the base of the steps [or thread your way back through the east end of the park by taking left turns, back to the entrance at the bridge], look over the fence on your right to see the lovely so-called anchorite cell, Grade II listed.

The lovely little building sits on an outcrop of red sandstone bedrock.  An anchorite is a religious recluse, someone who decides to retreat from all form of society, even monastic, to pursue a life of prayer and devotion. The building seems to correspond to a number of  references to an anchorite chapel and cell dedicated to St James in the cemetery of St John the Baptist’s church, opposite the south door.

The earliest story, unsubstantiated (and generally discredited), comes from the priest-historian Gerald of Wales (d.1223), who records that King Harold II was not killed at the Battle of Hastings, but was wounded and fled to Chester, where he lived at the cell (or hermitage) for the rest of his life.  British History Online says that this was the only such building that seems to have had a degree of permanence: “In the mid 14th century it held monks of Vale Royal (1342) and Norton (1356) and a Dominican friar (1363), and in 1565 a lease of property formerly belonging to St. John’s College included the ‘anker’s chapel’.”  The Freemen and Guilds of The City of Chester website mentions that at some point the building was used by the cordwainer guild (shoemakers) as a weekly meeting place “until they sold it in due course to a Mr Orange, and spent the proceeds on a party,” but provides no date.  It was expanded in the late 19th century, when the porch of the recently demolished St Martin’s Church, which was being demolished, was moved to form a new north entrance.  It was renovated in the early 1970s, but I can find no mention of how it is being used today.

20) and 21) The Groves

The Groves are a Victorian invention. The earliest section is The Groves East, which has some very attractive residential buildings facing the river, including an Italianate terrace, a Georgian-style terrace built in the early Victorian period and the revival half-timber rowing club boathouse, as well as cafés and pubs.  There are some good views over the riverside buildings on the edge of Queen’s Park, opposite.  Between 1880 and 1881 the western section that is most obviously a promenade area was laid out by Alderman Charles Brown.

As well as the lovely Grade II listed bandstand and delightful little octagonal ice cream huts, the city walls are particularly impressive here, towering above the river with some big chunks of bedrock at their base.  From here you can also enter the Roman Gardens (shown on the map with a green star), by following the line of the wall into a corridor between the wall and a restaurant.  Just about where the no.21 is marked on the above map is a flight of steps leading up to the walls.  These are known as the Recorder’s Steps, built in around 1720, linking the walls and the fashionable promenade to provide ease of access.  If you want to continue your walk by doing a circuit of the walls, this is a very good place to start, particularly as there is a map of the walls at the bottom of the steps.  The walls either side of the stairs are an interesting mix of different periods of construction, with one or two puzzling features.

The most attractive of all the public toilet buildings in Chester! The Groves West, opposite the bandstand.

As you walk towards the Old Dee Bridge, look over the river to see the concrete apartments under which you you walked earlier.  These, in the so-called Brutalist style, are the “Salmon Leap” buildings and  were built starting in the late 1960s until the mid 1970s, which look rather like a bar code.  In the interests of naming and shaming, they were designed by Liverpool architects Gilling Dod and Partners from Liverpool.  I recall that when I was visiting my parents once, many years ago, they were painted pink (salmon pink??), which was indescribably bad.

22) The Bridgegate

Nathaniel Buck’s Old Dee Bridge, showing the Bridgegate with the massive 1600 water tower as it was in 1728. Source: MutualArt

Today’s Georgian gateway, carrying the walls over Lower Bridge Street, is the latest iteration of the first gate built here by the Romans to defend access to the Via Praetoria.  By the Middle Ages all the bridge’s predecessors had been replaced by a medieval gateway that had a central pointed arch, which carried the walkway, and was flanked by two round towers.  This was quite an understated affair, but became considerably more noticeable when a tall, slender water tower was added to the west tower in 1600 to pump water from the river into the city (shown on the above image).  It was destroyed during the Civil War, but is recorded in earlier engravings.  The medieval Ship Gate, one of the architectural features preserved in Grosvenor Park, was a pedestrian archway giving access to the city Just to the west of the Bridgegate (towards the car park), which has already been mentioned in connection with the Grosvenor Park, where it was moved in the 1830s.

The Bridgegate, with the Bear and Billet on the other side of the gate

On the city side of the Bridgegate, on your left as you look uphill, is the Bear and Billet public house, which looks like one of the original half-timbered buildings but is in fact part of the revival of timber-framed buildings after the Civil War, in which multiple buildings were destroyed, and was built in 1664 for the Earl of Shrewsbury. See the picture near the end of the post in Sources.

As Chester’s population expanded during the 1700s, the increasing size of vehicles and the need for two-way traffic to pass into and out of the area defined by the walls resulted in the destruction and replacement of the medieval bridge.  The yellow sandstone Georgian arch that survives today was built in 1782 to a design by Joseph Turner (c.1729–1807), a successful local architect.  It supports a walkway that connects the two parts of the city walls that flank Lower Bridge Street.  Although not particularly imaginative, it is elegant in a typically Georgian way.

23) The Dee Mills and the hydroelectric station 

The Old Dee Mills in the 19th Century, with the Bridge Gate to its right and the Old Dee Bridge at its side. Source: Chesterwiki

The area around the Old Dee Bridge was busy from the Roman period onwards.  In the Middle Ages this part of the river was the site of several water mills, and mills continued to be built here until the last one burned down in 1895 and was knocked down in 1910.  In 1913 the site was used to establish a hydroelectric station, part of which survives in the form of the gothic-style building that sits below the bridge in the corner with the north bank, but this went out of use in 1951 and is currently vacant.  You can still see the hydroelectric station in situ on the walk, and the Ship Gate is still visible in the Grosvenor park (photograph further up the page at no.14), but the mill is only preserved in pictures.

The former hydroelectric station

24)  Prison wall

The remains of the west side of the river wall of the former prison, with its distinctive arches, next to the Wheeler Building.

Although it is captured in paintings and engravings, there’s almost nothing left of the former prison, although it was a very substantial building in its day.  Both the prison and the river wall with its inset arches can be seen on this painting below by prolific local artist Louise Rayner (1832-1934).  All that remains is the former river wall with its inset arches, and even this is a matter of noticing that it is there, rather than actually seeing it, even from the opposite side of the river, as it is hidden by extensive tree growth.  It is marked by the fact that it projects slightly into the river.  There are two places where the inset arches are visible, first by the railings opposite the Wheeler Building, where you can lean over and look back, and rather more accessibly there is small a section to the side of the Wheeler Building, which carries the path back up on to the walls, shown here.  Up until 1785 the prison was based in the Chester Castle dungeons, but by the mid-18th century it was very clear that this was no longer fit for purpose, and when it was decided to build a new prison, architects were invited to submit designs to a competition.  Thomas Harrison, who is mentioned below in connection with the revitalization of the castle, won the contract, and new riverside prison opened in 1793.  Less than a century later, in 1865, it was unable to cope with demand, and it was rebuilt, opening again in 1869.  It was demolished in 1902.

The Chester prison by Louise Rayner, showing the river wall along which we still walk today

 

25) The Wheeler Building, housing Royal Infirmary Stained Glass and the Riverside Museum

Objects from the collection of the Riverside Museum in the Wheeler Building

The University of Chester’s Wheeler Building, a vast block of a thing on your right as you head towards the Little Roodee car park, was built in 1857 as the former Cheshire County Council headquarters.  Although there is not much to say about it as a piece of architectural heritage, it does contain two really valuable items of local heritage interest.  On the first floor of Wheeler Building you can find the stained glass that was once installed in the Victorian Royal Infirmary (opened in 1761, closed in 1994 was converted for residential use in 1998), and about which you can read more on the Chester Archaeological Society blog here.  The Riverside Museum, which usually opens only once a month, is a permanent collection of curiosities from the world of medicine, nursing, midwifery and social work, in addition to an original letter written by Florence Nightingale from Balaclava.

Just past the Wheeler Building, you can walk up the path that follows a slope up the old prison walls onto the city walls for the last stretch of the walk. If you take the opportunity, you get some views over the river, and the best angle to see this side of the castle. [There are no steps upto and off this stretch of the walls, but if you have a wheelchair or buggy, there is a dogleg turn that may be difficult to negotiate]

26) The Castle

The Agricola tower

Chester Castle today is a bizarre and not terribly attractive mixture of Neoclassical and medieval when seen from the front.  The original castle following the Conquest of 1066 was a timber-built motte-and-bailey castle, but this was replaced by the medieval stone castle in the late 12th century.  The Neoclassical bolt-on was architect Thomas Harrison’s solution to the dilapidated state of the building in the Georgian period.

From the walkway along the walls you can see the square Agricola Tower, which dates from around 1190-1200, and this and the Flag Tower are the only survivors of this early stone-built castle.  The tower is opened at least once a year for visitors to see around the vaulted chapel and 13th century wall paintings that are thought to have been ordered by Edward I for his use of the castle as a base during his negotiations with the Welsh princes.  That’s high on my to-do list.

Leaving the walls, you can walk up to the entrance to the castle if you want to see the view from the entrance.  Otherwise, cross the road at the pedestrian lights, taking note of the big black modern building squatting on your right as you cross the road and go a short distance to the covered viewing point, where there are interpretation boards, and have a look over the Roodee.

Nathaniel Buck’s 1728 engraving of the castle. Source: chesterwalls.info

 

27) The Roodee and the site of St Mary’s Nunnery

The race course on the Roodee

Nathaniel Buck’s Prospect of the City of Chester 1728 showing The Roodee. Source: chesterwalls.info

The Roodee is now home to the Chester racecourse, with the earliest race here held in 1539, but it also formed the edge of a river port second in size to Bristol on the western coast of Britain, supporting a successful trade along the coast and across to Ireland, as well as a thriving shipbuilding industry.  The commercial value of the river began to decline at the end of the 18th century as the river began to silt up, and did not survive the 19th century.  However, the archaeology of the river at the Roodee dates back to at least the Roman period when there was a harbour at the river and excavations in 1885 revealed the remains of a jetty near the railway viaduct.  The above engraving by Nathaniel Buck shows the medieval tower, connected to the walls by a fortified walkway, which was once at the water’s edge, demonstrating how silting was impacting the port of Chester even at this stage.

Turn so that your back is to the Roodee.  Over the road was the site of St Mary’s Benedictine Nunnery. 

St Mary’s Convent was founded in 1140 and survived until the Dissolution in 1535,on the north side of today’s Nun’s Lane, which is the small road that runs along the top of the Roodee and the race course.  It was built just inside the city walls, a little to the west of the castle. This became quite a large monastic establishment with a relatively compact cloister around which were the usual domestic and administrative buildings along three sides, with the monastic church on the fourth side, and a larger separate courtyard with more buildings arranged around it. A double-cloister arrangement was not at all unusual in wealthy monastic establishments, but the nunnery was notable for its financial difficulties even though it owned and rented out several properties in Chester, and from the 13th century owned the manor of Handbridge.  The last surviving piece of architecture from the nunnery survives in Grosvenor Park, which preserves the red sandstone arch and flanking niches that once separated the church’s nave from its chancel.

Archway and flanking niches from the former St Mary’s Nunnery, looking through to the Ship Gate

The black glass and red sandstone building on the other side of Nun’s Lane, Abode (built in 2010), replaces the former police headquarters, which was an eyesore of a very different type, and between the police building being knocked down and Adobe being built, an archaeological excavation took place.  As well as what are thought to have been significant Roman discoveries, the remains of the nunnery were excavated, producing both architectural and funerary remains, as well as discarded objects.  Quite who was responsible for seeing that the excavation records were published I don’t know, but one of the great tragedies of Chester heritage was that the small company responsible for the excavations never did publish, and no-one seems to know where the excavation reports and any preserved materials might be located.

The remains of St Mary’s Nunnery in 1727. Source: British History Online

After the 1536 Dissolution, when the nuns dispersed, the land and buildings were granted to a member of the Brereton family, in whose hands it remained until the 17th century.  Its best known resident was Sir William Brereton, who was the Cheshire commander of the Parliamentary forces during the Civil War, when the buildings came under fire, were badly damaged and were never repaired.  As ruins on valuable land within the city walls they were soon replaced.  At the west end of the former site, architect Thomas Harrison, who has been mentioned several times above, built St Martin’s Lodge for his own use, now sympathetically converted into the gastro pub The Architect.

The walk is over!  Retrace your steps back over the Grosvenor Road into the car park, either via the steps on the corner, or down Castle Drive and into the main entrance, which avoids steps.
xxx

Final comments

I particularly like this walk because of the sheer amount of diversity that it introduces to the experience of Chester, beyond what you can find on a walk around the walls or a stroll around the main streets and the rows.  This is a slightly different slant on Chester, one that takes place nearly entirely beyond the walls, where there is space for promenades, open green spaces, a massive race course, a Victorian cemetery, river walks and of course some marvellous bridges and views over the surrounding area.  Neither urban nor suburban, this walk focuses on the in-between borderland of the riverside.

The shortlink for this post is: https://wp.me/pcZwQK-7BG

Braun’s Map of Chester, 1571 showing the RooDee with a grazing cow at left,  Handrbidge at the bottom, and the Old Dee Bridge connecting Handbridge with the Bridgegate. Source: chesterwalls.info

 

Sources

Books and Papers

The Bear and Billet

Boughton, Peter 1997. Picturesque Chester.  Phillimore

Carrington, Peter 1994. Chester. English Heritage

Cheshire West and Chester Council 2012.  Explore the Walls. A circular walk around Chester’s historic City Walls.  Cheshire West and Chester Council

Clarke, Catherine A.M. 2011. Mapping the Medieval City. Space, Place and Identity in Chester c.1200-1600.  University of Wales

Herson, John 1996. Victorian History: A City of Change and Ambiguity. In (ed.) Roger Swift. Victorian Chester.  Liverpool University Press

King, Michael J. and David B. Thompson 2000.  Triassic vertebrate footprints from the Sherwood Sandstone Group, Hilbre, Wirral, northwest England. Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association,
Volume 111, Issue 2, 2000, p.111-132

Langtree, Stephen and Alan Comyns (eds.) 2001. 2000 Years of Building: Chester’s Architectural LegacyChester Civic Trust

Laughton, Jane 2008.  Life in a Late Medieval City. Chester 1275-1520. Oxbow

Martin, Richard 2018. Ships of the Chester River. Bridge Books

Mason, D.J.P. 2001, 2007. Roman Chester. City of the Eagles. Tempus

Mason, D.J.P. 2007. Chester AD 400-1066. From Roman Fortress to English Town. Tempus.

Ward, Simon 2009, 2013. Chester. A History. The History Press


Websites

Based in Churton
Overleigh Cemetery in Chester, Parts 1 and 2 by Andie Byrnes
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/category/overleigh-cemetery/

British History Online
Religious houses: Introduction
https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/ches/vol3/pp124-127

The Cheshire Sandstone Ridge
The geology of the mid Cheshire Sandstone Ridge: Our landscape story
https://www.sandstoneridge.org.uk/lib/F715451.pdf

Chester Characterisation Study
St John’s Character Area Assessment
https://www.cheshirewestandchester.gov.uk/asset-library/planning-policy/chester-characterisation-study/e-chestercharacterisationstudystjohns.pdf

Chester Heritage Festival YouTube Channel
Four Minute Wonder:  The Sandstone Outcrop by Paul Hyde, 2024
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxgoKh_4FXk
Four Minute Wonder: The Grosvenor Park Lodge by Paul Hyde, 2024
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Td67domdAWQ

Chesterwiki
River Dee Geology
https://chester.shoutwiki.com/wiki/River_Dee_Geology

Curiouser and Curioser: Tales from Cheshire Archives and Local Studies
A Grand Day Out in Chester: celebrating 100 years of the new Queens Park Suspension Bridge
https://cheshirero.blogspot.com/2023/04/a-grand-day-out-in-chester-celebrating.html

The Freemen and Guilds of the City of Chester
Cordwainers
https://chesterfreemenandguilds.org.uk/about/

Heritage Gateway
Post Dissolution Use of Former Benedictine Nunnery
https://www.heritagegateway.org.uk/Gateway/Results_Single.aspx?uid=MCH18993&resourceID=1004

Historic England
Roman quarry including Edgar’s Cave and the rock-cut figure of Minerva on Edgar’s Field, 150m south west of Dee Bridge
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1014718
The Hermitage, The Groves
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1375947

The Spoonster Sprouts
Brutalist Architecture in Chester: A Guide. By Tom Spooner, 15th July 2024
https://thespoonsterspouts.com/brutalism/chester-brutalist-architecture/

A Virtual Stroll Around the Walls of Chester
Old Maps and Aerial Photographs of Chester – Nathaniel Buck
https://chesterwalls.info/gallery/oldmaps/prospect.html

Wikipedia
Henry Raikes
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Raikes


Upcoming

The Historic Towns Trust map for Chester should be a great aid to anyone planning their own heritage walk.  Although I have one on order it hasn’t arrived yet. You can find details on the Trust’s website where you can also order a copy:
https://www.historictownstrust.uk/maps/an-historical-map-of-chester

 

View of the City of Chester by an unknown artist, mid 1700s. Source: Victoria and Albert Museum, accession number 29635:57

 

Nathaniel Buck’s South West Prospect of the City of Chester, 1728. Source: Mutual Art

View from the East Groves to Queen’s Park

A visit to Birkenhead Priory #2: St Mary’s Parish Church and HMS Thetis

Introduction

The remains of the former church interior, with a tall arch that, now blocked with brick, once gave access to the tower

St Mary’s Parish Church in Birkenhead has a splendid claim to fame as one of the earliest churches to have cast iron tracery in its window openings, in place of the usual stone mullions and tracery.  Although relentlessly Gothic Revival in style, it truly is a child of the Industrial Revolution.

St Mary’s sits over a part of the site occupied by the original medieval Birkenhead Priory.  I have talked about the splendid remains of  Birkenhead Priory, founded in the 12th century, and its ferry across the Mersey, the earliest one recorded, on an earlier post, Part 1,  here.  It is an absolute knock-out with a stunning vaulted chapter house, undercroft, remains of other parts of the monastic establishment and a small but very nice museum space.

A recent second visit to Birkenhead Priory, this time with the Chester Archaeological Society, was a good opportunity to re-familiarize myself with the much more recent stories of the 19th century St Mary’s Church, which is interesting in its own right. The tower, which is perfectly preserved with its clock mechanism visible from the stairwell, offers terrific views over the surrounding area whilst also serving as a memorial to those who died tragically during the sea trials of the submarine HMS Thetis.

St Mary’s Church

Plan of the Birkenhead Priory site, with the priory outlined in red, the now absent priory church outlined in orange and remains of the 1822 St Mary’s Church outlined in green. Source: Metropolitan Borough of Wirral leaflet (with my annotations in colour)

The site plan to the right shows the remains of the church framed in green.  The medieval priory and its church are framed in red and orange respectively.  The blue margin on the right is part of the Camell Laird’s shipyard, into which you can look from the tower of St Mary’s and watch the current shipbuilding activities.  Church Street, right at the top of the image, post-dates the demolition of most of the church in 1970.

Although there are some stunning architectural survivals from the medieval priory, almost nothing remains of the priory church following the Dissolution.  As you can see on the site plan to the right, the original priory church overlaps the site of St Mary’s.  The Prior and his monks effectively handed over the keys to Henry VIII’s administrators and left peacefully.  The need for a religious focus for the small community that remained, however, resulted in the consecration of the gorgeous monastic chapter house as a chapel (numbers 2, 3 on the plan, where the daily business of the priory had formerly taken place).  It was only in the 19th century when Birkenhead began to grow into an industrial town, port and shipbuilding yards, with a rapidly expanding population, which was encouraged by the introduction of a steam ferry across the river Mersey, that the little chapel in the former chapter house became far too small for the needs of the Birkenhead community.  As a result the decision was made to build a new church to meet the needs of this expanding population.

Thomas Rickman. Source: Wikipedia

The architect chosen for the task of building a new parish church for Birkenhead was Thomas Rickman, an interesting character whose 1817 book Attempt to Discriminate the Styles of English Architecture helped to promote the development of the Gothic Revival, of which he was himself an enthusiastic proponent.  Having secured some commissions in the Liverpool area from iron foundry owner John Cragg, Rickman had established an architectural practice in Liverpool in 1817.  The foundation stone of the new Parish Church of St Mary’s was laid in July 1819, was consecrated on the 17th December 1821 and opened in 1822, with a vicarage established on the probable site of the priory kitchen.  Built of red sandstone, which inevitably blackened with industrial pollution over the decades, the church had a rectangular plan apparently without aisles, with a tower at the west end.  Although bricked up today for structural stability, the tall arch in the east wall of the tower would have opened into the nave of the church.

St Mary’s church in the early 20th century on a splendid postcard showing the church and the former churchyard. Source: St Mary’s Birkenhead blog

The church was large for the available population, but the landowner Francis Richard Price apparently decided to future-proof his new building, correctly judging that the early influx of people was going to continue to expand.  By 1832 the church was too small for the congregation and was expanded with a north transept (wing), followed by a south transept in 1835. You can see some of the decorative touches from the roof in the remaining pieces of masonry at the feet of the west walls.

Victorian burials took place mainly in the churchyard but prestigious individuals were interred within the monastic garth.  The former monastic garth, the square green that formed the focus around which the most important monastic buildings were arranged, became a cemetery for important residents in the 19th century.  It is here, for example, that the Laird family crypt is to be found.  In 2024, at his request, the cremated ashes of Birkenhead Labour MP Frank Field, who served for 40 years, were buried next to the entrance to the chapter house.  He is almost certainly the last who will be given permission to be interred there.

The dock for which the churchyard was sacrificed in the 1950s

The churchyard with its cemetery no longer survives.  It was originally established in the Middle Ages, for the monastic community, but after the 16th century probably only saw intermittent usage. It was only as Birkenhead began to expand that it came back into general use.  After the opening of St Mary’s it once again became an important cemetery for the local area, remaining in use until 1901, after which only those with family plots or in exceptional circumstances were permitted.  In 1948 the parishes of St Mary’s and St Paul’s in Birkenhead joined forces, and St Paul’s was demolished.  In the 1950s, as the neighbouring shipyard expanded and was desperate for more space, a commercial deal was made between Camell Lairds and the town council, in the face of protests, to purchase the churchyard for a new dock.  Whatever remained of the medieval church, all but part of one arch, was taken down.  Around 1100 burials, including those that had been brought over, with headstones, from St Paul’s were transferred from the churchyard to the new Landican cemetery in 1957-8, leaving only those within the garth of the monastic complex, and a handful in the immediate vicinity of the church and the priory.  A tall wall was built to divide the site from the docks below.

Another angle on St Mary’s showing the exterior walls and the base of the tower, as well as the clock

The Church tower has a number of notable features.  The Victorian clock underwent restoration and was reinstalled in 1990, sponsored by local interests.  From the top of the tower there are some stunning views, and you can peer into the fascinating Camell Laird’s shipyard and see the dry dock where the well-known and very controversial 1862 Alabama was built as a blockade runner for the Confederates in the American Civil War.  However, the most notable aspect of the tower is its role as a memorial to the 99 men who died in 1939 on the submarine HMS Thetis.

The church was closed in 1974 and the majority of the church was taken down in 1977.  Most of the fallen masonry remained after the demolition was presumably removed for recycling as building material, but some of the pieces of stonework that were less obviously adaptable for other building projects are laid along the remains of the inner west walls of the former nave.

One of the splendid cast iron windows

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HMS Thetis

HMS Thetis was salvaged, repaired and relaunched as HMS Thunderbolt, shown here.  Source: Wikipedia 

On 1st June 1939 a new submarine, the first of the new Titan class, left Cammell Laird’s shipyard in Birkenhead.  This was her second set of sea trials, after her first went went very badly, and it was imperative that this time there should be no mistakes.  There was great confidence when she put to sea, but only a few hours later sank 12 miles off the Great Orme in Liverpool Bay, with 103 men on board.  This was twice the usual number of crew on board the HMS Thetis (N25), because as well as the standard Royal Navy crew of some 50 men that manned her, there were also engineers, members of the Admiralty and various others on board, including catering staff and other civilians, as she underwent sea trials.  There were only four survivors, and it is partly due to their testimonies that the cause of the tragedy was pieced together.

The submarine sailed safely down the Mersey towards Liverpool Bay, heading towards the Great Orme and accompanied by a tug boat named the Grebe Cock.  An essential part of her sea trials was to dive and make way underwater.  When the attempt to dive was made, in 150ft (46m) of water, the submarine was found to be too lightweight to submerge.  A submarine can make additional weight by taking on water.  Her internal compensating tanks were full, and it was decided to check the status of the six torpedo tubes and allow the two lowest ones to flood if they were empty.  The torpedo tubes could be checked by means of a stop-cock.  If, when turned, water leaked out, then the torpedo tube was full.  If it did not, it was empty and could opened and inspected.  In the aftermath of the disaster, it was found that the stop-cock of the fifth torpedo tube had been accidentally covered with enamel paint during final preparation for trials, and had hardened, preventing any water seeping out of the stop-cock to indicate that the torpedo tube was, in fact, full of water.  Because it was believed that the tube was empty, the rear door was opened.  In fact, the torpedo door was open to the sea and immediately thousands of gallons flooded into the submarine, forcing her down at the bow as the water began to fill the first two sections.  Thereafter the 270ft (82m) submarine could not be refloated and it was a matter of escape or rescue before air ran out.

The memorial stairways in St Mary’s tower

Thereafter it is a complicated story, certainly not one for someone uninformed to tell, and the best website account I have found to date is the unfortunately named Great Disasters website, which includes accounts by the four survivors and witnesses from the inquiry.  Alternatively, and much-recommended is  really excellent 15-minute summary provided by a video, with original photographs and diagrams, presenting the harrowing story very clearly: The Raven’s Eye YouTube channel.

The submarine was recovered on the 3rd of September 1939, towed to Traeth Bychan beach, where she was grounded and the remaining bodies either buried in a mass grave in Maeshyfryd Cemetery in Holyhead.  After the submarine was salvaged, repaired and renamed HMS Thunderbolt she was returned to active service in 1940.  She was a successful vessel until 1943 when she was sunk off the coast of Sicily by an Italian corvette, with the loss of all hands.

The catalogue of errors both on board and on shore is dismally reminiscent of the sinking of Titanic, when one is familiar with the details of both horror stories.  Human error, in design, in execution, in procedures and in response to technological failure, always seems to be a major factor in shipping and air disasters.
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Final Comments

A visit to Birkenhead Priory is rewarding in its own right, but with the addition of the ruins of St Mary’s Church with its cast iron windows, and the tower, its memorial and its views. there is an awful lot to see, enjoy and learn.

There are some stunning views from the top of St Mary’s tower

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Visiting Details

Details for visitors are in Part 1.  Although Part 1 was posted in May last year, I have checked the details and nothing has changed in the meantime.  There are also opening hours and a map on the Birkenhead Priory website.
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Sources

Leaflets

St Mary’s Parish Church 1819-1977, compiled by Tony Hughes
https://thebirkenheadpriory.org/wp-content/uploads/St-Marys-booklet.pdf

HMS Thetis, compiled by Les Black, March 2016. Produced by Birkenhead Priory

Websites

AHRNet
Rickman, Thomas 1776 – 1841
https://architecture.arthistoryresearch.net/architects/rickman-thomas

Graveyard Survey, St Mary’s Birkenhead, volume 1, 1977, Gill Chitty 1977
https://www.merseysidearchsoc.com/uploads/2/7/2/9/2729758/jmas_1_paper_5.pdf

Marshall University, Marshall Digital Scholar
CSS Alabama. An Illustrated History. Part 1: Building Ship No. 290.  By Jack L. Dickinson. Fall 10-9-2017
https://civilwartalk.com/attachments/part-1-building-ship-no-290-pdf.296944/

An Online Archive for the Church of St. Mary’s & the Priory, Birkenhead Cheshire, including a listing of the monumental inscriptions from the old graveyard & Priory
History of the Priory and St. Mary’s Church Birkenhead
http://stmarysbirkenhead.blogspot.com/

The Raven’s Eye
Everything Went Wrong – The Tragedy of HMS Thetis – Submarine Disaster (1939)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JEcW7WjRxY8

 

 

Over the wall from the former churchyard

I believe that this was the dry dock where the “Alabama” was built, seen from the top of St Mary’s tower

 

Medieval ambition and Civil War musket ball holes at the Church of St Chad’s in Holt (Grade 1 listed)

Introduction

Either side of the River Dee, and linked by the lovely late medieval red sandstone bridge, are the villages of Holt on the Welsh side and Farndon on the English side, each with its own substantial red sandstone church, both of which are dedicated to St Chad and both of which have well-populated churchyards.  Each has its own very particular character and personality, and as well as being the centres of Christian devotion and burial, seamlessly blending life and death, both have Civil War stories and scars and both continue to function as places of worship today.  This post is about the Grade-1 listed St Chad’s in Holt.

Map showing the location of Mercia and the line of the Anglo-Welsh border. Source: Wikipedia

The church is located at the top of the slope that runs down to the river crossing, precisely where Bridge Street meets Church Street, opposite the small rectangular green.  An attractive wrought iron gateway is set between a house on one side and the Peal O’ Bells pub on the other, and opens onto a path flanked by red sandstone garden walls leading to the church and churchyard.  The church is light-filled with a peaceful atmosphere and some notable features, some of them very unusual. The overall effect of St Chad’s is welcoming and combines a sense of heritage with contemporary relevance.  For details about visiting, see Visiting Details at the end.

According to Bede (in the 8th century) St Chad, who died in AD 672, was a leading light in the Anglo-Saxon church, rising through the ecclesiastical ranks in the kingdoms of Northumbria and Mercia and under King Wulfhere, one of the earliest Christian kings, became the first Bishop of Lichfield in the new diocese of Lichfield, at the heart of Mercia.  Mercia was one of seven British kingdoms of 7th century Britain and occupied most of central England, with much of the border with Wales, always a movable feast, somewhat further to the west.  Regarded as a pioneer who helped to spread Christianity in and beyond Mercia, he became popular during the Middle Ages in the Midlands and its borders.

The following details are just the edited highlights. For a more technical architectural description see the Wrexham Churches Survey (see Sources at the end).  The church very much rewards a visit.
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Exterior

South side of St Chad’s Church, Holt

The church is approached through a pair of wrought iron gates that were made in 1816 and replaced the former lychgate.  As you approach the church and walk around to find the carvings around the south door, you will notice a change underfoot because in the immediate vicinity of the church the path is composed of horizontal ledger grave stones and vertical headstones laid flat (distinguished by chisel marks at the bases, which would have been underground), all forming huge paving slabs, some from the 18th century.

Path made up of grave markers

The exterior of the church is built of local red sandstone, the older parts badly eroded on the exterior, probably as a result of traffic pollution.  Sandstone, being soft, lends itself to graffiti and there is quite a lot of it dotted around the building, dating from the 18th century.  The roof of the rectangular nave and chancel is made of copper, which accounts for its green colour.  Copper was more expensive than the more usual lead, and is both fire resistant and more enduring, as well as a gesture of status.

A curious feature of the church and its roof-level features is the presence of crocketed pinnacles, each with twin gargoyles on the north sides and the absence of them on the south side.  I only noticed because I love gargoyles and go looking for them.  This is due to the removal of the pinnacles on the south side during 1732, one of the periods of redesign and alteration.

North side of the church, showing four pinnacles, each of which is adorned with small gargoyles. Photograph taken from the west, just next to the tower.

The tower features four gargoyles on the corners at the very top of the tower, and a string-course just below that level marked by floral ornamental motifs and small grotesques, very similar to the sculpted string-course that you can see here at Gresford All Saints’.  The 18th century bells are referred to below.  The top of the tower has gargoyles at its corners and the roof of the tower appears to be leaded.

The string course of grotesques, flowers and other motifs near the top of the tower.

 

A circuit of the exterior reveals that there are three doorways.  The studded west door, through which visitors enter today, is impressively large, but has no notable features.

The earliest entrance is the south door, with some lovely, albeit very eroded ornamental carvings. This would have been the main access from the castle, which is why it was so ornate.  As well as decorative motifs, there is a central panel showing the Annunciation set over the top of the arch and carvings in the spandrels (the three-sided sections between the arch and the square frame).  The spandrel on the right as you face the door shows the arms of Henry VII, together with a figure wearing a mitre; the other side is very worn. Above the door and its surround is a carved band of small quatrefoil motifs, each arranged in patterns of four. xxx

The door that opens into the north aisle of the church (round to the left of the tower as you face it) has nice carved details in the spandrels between the arch and the square frame.  Most fascinatingly, it has a line of three holes in it plugged with wooden stoppers.  These holes are called loopholes and were used for firing muskets from inside, much like arrow-slits in medieval castles.

The north entrance with the “loop holes.”

At the east end, under the central window, is an unusual little memorial built into the wall to Jasper Peck Esq and his wife Amy, died 1712 and 1740 respectively, the latter the daughter of Sir Kenrick Eyton.

At the east end of the church, built into the external wall beneath the central window, is an 18th century memorial

A memorial in the churchyard of St Chad’s, Holt

The churchyard contains plenty of grave stones and memorials.  The earliest, now moved for its protection inside the church (about which more below) dates to either the late 17th or early 18th century.  Although there are many from the 18th century, the majority of graves and their memorials date to the 19th century, with a range of fairly typical shapes and symbols.  Most of the memorials accompanying the graves are headstones, but earlier chest-style memorials and ledgers (inscribed horizontal slabs) are also represented, together with more obviously monumental types.  The cemetery was later extended east, possibly in an effort to avoid the north side of the church, which only has one gravestone, and even that is at the far east end.  The north side of a churchyard, in the shadow of the church, was often reserved either for burials that had to be buried in unconsecrated ground, such as suicides or babies who had died before baptism, but might also contain pauper and unmarked graves.  The monument known as the Roman Pillar, shown further down the page, may or may not have originally been a Roman column from the nearby tileworks, but in the churchyard performed the role of a sundial, now without a dial, with an octagonal top with the engraving TP WR CW 1766.

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Interior

The plan of St Chad’s is simple, with the tower at the west end, and the chancel (where the high altar is located) at the east end as usual.  The nave, where the congregation sits, is flanked by two aisles.  The chancel is flanked by two chapels for private prayer.

The roof looks as though it belongs to the Perpendicular period, but is belongs to the restoration of 1871-3

Heading through the impressive main door, set into the base of the tower, and through the glass-panelled doors into the nave, you are immediately presented with an uninterrupted view down the full length of the tall nave towards the east end.  The multiple large windows, only one of which has stained glass (dating to the early 1900s), provide the interior with a lot of natural light, even in the absence of clerestories. The arcades are made of a fine yellow sandstone, much better than red sandstone for creating a light space, and much more refined in appearance. The warm, light reddish wood of the relatively modern pews helps to add to avoid any sense of dourness.  The walls lack the usual distracting and overblown clutter of highly ornamental wall memorials.  Looking up, the wooden ceiling looks as though it belongs to the Perpendicular period, but is belongs to the restoration of 1871-3.

Inevitably there is a bank of 1910 organ pipes blocking the south aisle, shutting out light and preventing direct access from the north aisle to the north chapel, but this is entirely typical, echoing the same scheme in both Gresford and Malpas churches, amongst many others.  Similarly, the south aisle is truncated at the western end of the aisle by a small room presumably used as a vestry.

The 13th and 14th Centuries

Holt Castle by Peter Mazell in 1779. Source: Castle Studies Trust

There is no evidence of a church prior to the 13th century.  The village of Holt was built in the early 1280s, probably as a bastide by John de Warenne, the 7th Earl of Surrey under a charter from Edward I.  A bastide was a newly laid out pioneer town built around a castle on the edge of potentially hostile territory.  Edward I imported the idea imported from Gascony where he had founded a number of new defended towns, and used it as a model for Flint Castle and its bastide town, as well as subsequent castles in his circle of defences in north Wales.  Defensive walls may have been planned for the town but were never built.  The foundations of the first church were probably included in the plan for the border colony, along with a former marketplace (where the village square is located today).

The earliest remaining components of the present church belong to the 13th -14th century.  The nave arcades (arches that divide the nave from the aisles) feature five bays of lancet-shaped pointed arches that date to this period and indicate either that the original church of c.1280 was aisled, or that aisles were a later 14th century addition.  The aisles were widened in the 15th century, removing the older aisle outer walls, but the original ones almost certainly featured lancet-shaped windows of the earlier gothic “Decorated” style.

The earliest of the aisle arches are pointed (or lancet) shaped, unlike the later Perpendicular arches that flank the chancel.

An attractive 14th century “credence table,” looking like a small shrine, was built into the south wall of the Lady Chapel at the east end of the south aisle, moved into this position in Sir William Stanley’s alterations in the late 15th century.  This was used for accessories used to celebrate Holy Mass.  The underside, completely hidden when looking down onto the small platform, has a marvellous grotesque face flanked by two faces, one human and one animal, looking very like a misericord.  If there were misericords in the late medieval choir, like the lovely ones at Gresford, these are long gone.   A mirror leans against the wall but can be laid flat for those who want to see the underside without kneeling down.

Unexpected underside of the credence table, looking very like a misericord

Late 15th Century

In 1483 Richard III granted the Lordship of Bromfield and Yale to Sir William Stanley, which incorporated both Holt Castle and the church.  Stanley made significant changes to the church, removing and replacing the outer walls of the original aisles to widen them, providing them with the Perpendicular style windows, and extended the arcade at the east end.  For reasons unknown, the north aisle is wider than the south aisle. The south aisle chapel is a Lady Chapel. The little leaflet that the church provides suggests, with reservations, that that the chancel, which is slightly out of alignment with the nave, may have been a so-called “weeping chancel,” deliberately and symbolically echoing the images of the crucifixion where Christ’s head is tiltee down to his right.

At the chancel, the two bays of arcades flanking the chancel (the choir and high altar), have much wider four-centred (flattened) arches, providing a very fine contrast to the earlier lancet-shaped arches.  The new arcades were fitted with carved stone heads at the tops of the east and west walls, all but three undetermined male heads.  The other three consist of one male head that is crowned and is probably a king, another depicting a dog and another a grotesque face. 

There were apparently problems with the civil engineering of the new east arcade. The last of the free-standing arcade pillars in the south aisle is at a distinct angle, and there is a pillar at the east end, against the wall, which does not reach the roof, as described on the Clwyd Powys Archaeological Trust / Heneb website: “To explain anomalies at the east end of the south aisle it has been suggested that because the east window of the aisle was too large for the wall to support, an external buttress had to be placed nearer to this window than was planned. An internal pillar was then constructed where the exterior buttress should have been sited.”  

Mitred figure at St Chad’s, Holt

The tower at the west end, through which you enter the church, has a spiral stair case to the bell tower (closed to the public).  As you go into the nave from the tower, look right.  There is a carving of a figure wearing a mitre, which is a fragment of a medieval bench-end of the sort that you can see in the choirs at Chester Cathedral and Gresford All Saints’, and suggests that there was once some very interesting Gothic wood carving here.  The mitre is consistent with it representing St Chad, but other candidates are also entirely plausible.  During 19th century restoration work the head was removed from the church and for reasons unknown found itself at Holt Hall, where its dignity was severely undermined, having been employed as a newel post. Holt Hall was one of the many of the fine buildings that failed to survive the early 20th century, and when it was taken down in the 1940s the head was returned to St Chad’s.

Also at the west end to the right as you enter the church, in the south aisle, is the wonderful font, elaborately and deeply carved and dated by Edward Hubbard to c.1493 on the basis of the heraldry that appears in amongst the other carved panels.  It is a truly remarkable object, featuring the above-mentioned heraldic emblems, religious symbols and even a number of grotesques.  The heraldic symbols include a stag’s head, which is one of the emblems of Sir William Stanley and the others are the arms of previous lords of Bromfield, the Warenne and Fitzalan families as well as the heraldic shield of King Richard II (reigned 1452-85).   Others are religious symbols showing emblems of Saints Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, the Lamb of God, the “pelican in her piety,” highly stylized roses representing the Virgin Mary and the ubiquitous gothic acanthus leaves.

The late 15th century font with a reconstruction from one of the interpretation boards showing how the shields may have been coloured

Sir William’s modifications represent a major investment and suggest enormous personal ambition, a desire to put his stamp on the biggest community asset in late medieval Holt.  It did not save him from political manoeuvring.  Although one of the richest men in England, Sir William Stanley was executed for suspected treason by Henry VII in 1495 and the Lordship of Bromfield and Yale reverted to the crown. 

The 17th Century

Musket ball holes in the west wall, south aisle of st Chad’s Church, Holt

The Civil War took place between 22nd August 1642 and 3rd September 1651, and had a massive impact on the Chester area, with opposing forces occupying Holt and Farndon at the strategic river crossing.  Frank Latham sets the scene as it was in 1643: “Because of its prominence on a hilltop overlooking the river the parish church of Farndon was garrisoned by Roundhead troops from 1643 to 1645 which enabled watch to be kept on the Welsh village of Holt and particularly on the castle there which was occupied by the enemy.” With Farndon in the hands of the Parliamentarians and Holt in the hands of the Royalists, armed conflict was almost inevitable, and the Battle of Farndon Bridge in November 1643 appears to have been the beginning of a number of skirmishes.  The castle was taken by the Parliamentarians, but in 1644 was retaken by the Royalists.  In 1647 it was besieged for 9 months. 

Fascinatingly, impact marks of musket balls scar the wall and pillars inside the west end of St Chad’s, which are an evocative reminder of the area’s troubled history at that time, when Royalist soldiers defended the church against the Parliamentarians, with hand-to-hand fighting taking place within the church itself.  You can find these mainly on the west wall of the south aisle (turn right as you walk in from the tower and they are on your right), with a few on the other side as well.  Don’t forget that the north aisle has a doorway with three “loop holes” through which weapons could be fired, only one of these can be seen from the interior, but there are also some marvellous lock fittings. 

Finally, a very small and beautifully decorated late brass plaque in the north aisle chapel should not be missed. Its beautifully reflective surface made it impossible to photograph nicely.  It is dedicated to Thomas Crue, who died in 1666.  The plaque was provided by his brother Silvanus Crue.  All of the imagery, with a skeleton flanked by skulls at its base, columns supporting sundials and hour glasses all reference time, death and the transition of the soul.  On the columns the words FUGIT HORA also reference the passing of time: “time flies.”  At the top, in the centre, a lion rampant stands over a grotesque head.  As well as some lovely engraved mortuary-themed decoration, it contains an acrostic; when read vertically, the first letter of each new line makes up one or more words.  In this case the vertical reading over two verses is THOMAS CRUE, and the full text is as follows (having performed some serious gymnastics to read it against the light):

The life of man incessantly from the womb
Hastneth both day and night unto the tomb
Of mortal life when once the thread is spunne
Man has a life immortal then begunne
A wise man dying lives; and living dies
Such was the main that here intombed lies

Carefull he liv’d gods secret laws to keep
Religiously until to Death or Sleepe
Unto a happy life his soule did bring
Ending this life to live with Christ our King

At the base it reads STIPENDIUM PECCATI MORS EST is a Latin phrase that translates as “The reward of sin is death,” and with dry humour typical of the 18th century, HODIE MIHI CRAS TIBI  translated as “Me today, you tomorrow”.  All of this may sound a little gloomy and morbid, but this was the era of John Donne and equally articulate metaphysical poets who engaged with satire, dark humour and word play, balancing the reality of time and its inevitable consequences with a strong sense of irony and flamboyant wit.

The 18th Century

In the south aisle, heading towards the chancel and on your left, there is a super grave slab that was moved in from the churchyard to protect it. It is a marvellous piece, with a skull and crossed bones, the skull having a somewhat surprisingly beatific smile on its face.  There are also some flowers at its base.  The flowers at bottom left were apparently typical of the 18th century, but the skull and crossed bones were better known from plague graves of the 17th century, and are known as memento mori stones, indicating the inevitability of death.

It is in this period that six bells were added to the tower, made by Rudhalls of Gloucester in 1714.  Presumably, if there had been any misericords these would have been removed either during the 17th century purge of medieval religious motifs, or at this time, although at least parts of the choir stalls were reported to be preserved in 1853, but were stripped out in the 1870s.  In 1720 the church was presented with a clock, which stayed in position until 1901.  This was followed by significant renovation of the church in 1732, during which, very sadly, the the rood loft and screens were removed.  This renovation also accounts for the parapet that replaced the pinnacles, gargoyles and battlements on the south side, although some were left in position on the north side.

A lovely engraved brass plaque near the entrance, on the west wall on the north side is worth looking out for, dedicated to John Lloyd and dating to 1784.

19th – 20th Century

The 19th century restoration between 1871 and 1873 was responsible for adding some of the ornamental features, such as the new seating in the nave and oak screens to separate the chancel from the side chapels, but also removed some of the memorial tablets from the walls.  Restoration work included including the renewal of the camber-beam oak panelled roof of the nave and the sanctuary at the far end of the chancel, re-laying of the floors and repairs to the window tracery.  Interestingly, many memorial tablets were removed during the renovation of the interior, which almost certainly improved it no end, but whatever remained of the rood screen and choir stalls were also stripped out.  It is possible that choir stalls and some stained glass were removed at this time, as they were mentioned by a visitor in the early 1850s. 

The interior ceiling corbels that support the camber beams were provided with sculptural elements, all human heads.  You will need binoculars or a long camera lens to see them, high up and in shadow, but a couple of examples are shown here.  There is no mention of them in any of the texts, so it is unclear if this dates to the major reworking during the 15th century, or to the 19th century restoration and reconstruction of the ceiling.

Nineteenth century restoration activities can often result in some hair-raising alterations, but St Chad’s seems to have got off quite lightly, retaining some fine original features.  The attempts to restore some of the original ambience were fairly sympathetic, and the new features were not unattractive.  As nineteenth century restorations go, it was not unsuccessful.

In 1896 the bells were provided with a new iron frame and the following year a weathervane was added.

The single stained glass window in St Chad’s, Holt. Early 20th century.

Since then, the main additions to the church have been the new clock in 1902 and a stained glass window later in the early 20th century. The new clock and chimes were fitted to commemorate the coronation of King Edward VIII and Queen Alexandra in 1902.  The stained glass window consists of four panels depicting saints.  The two central panels show St Chad holding an image of the church in his hand, and St Asaph (the church is in the diocese of St Asaph). The outer panels show St David, the patron saint of Wales and St Swithin, reflecting an older connection with Winchester Cathedral in 1547.  It is very nicely done for a 20th century window, emulating the gothic and works well with the rest of the church’s features.

In the 1960s the lighting and heating were improved and the roof coverings were restored.

Detail of Victorian pulpit, St Chad’s Holt

Uncertain dates

It is not known for sure when the tower was built.  One authority puts it in the 17th century, but it is more likely that is is much earlier, probably late 15th century.

Probably late medieval, but not officially dated, are consecration crosses, one of which is next to the radiator to the right of the credence table, and there are other similar consecration crosses marking places that have been consecrated by a member of the clergy elsewhere in the church.

There is a magnificent chest not far from the west end, which had four locks, each representing a keyholder who had to be present when the chest was opened.  This has not been dated, but realistically looks as though it could date to any time between the late 15th to the 17th century.
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Chest in St Chad’s, Holt

 

Today

There has also been some modernization to improve lighting and heating, which were probably much-needed.  The pipework for the heating system is fantastic – a remarkable feature in its own right, just as the heating system in Chester Cathedral makes its own contribution to domestic-industrial history.

A replacement sandstone block interrupting some engraved text on an external wall of the church

Obviously the church requires ongoing maintenance.  Sandstone is very vulnerable to pollution, and some of the blocks have had to be repaired using modern sandstone, but thanks to the church being set back from the road this is minor work.  It also looks as though some of the four gargoyles on the tower have experienced some damage, but that too is inevitable.  Overall, St Chad’s seems to be in really excellent condition and is clearly well cared for and appreciated.

The church organizers seem to be doing a very good job of balancing the contrasting demands on St Chad’s.  As well as the provision of plenty of information for visitors about the history and heritage of the church as a tourist attraction, the church is managed as a community asset for services, weddings, funerals and community activities.  Reflecting a concern with modern global issues, there are four “millennium banners,” made by members of the congregation to welcome in the year 2000, which capture local scenes but represent the universal ideas of love, hope, peace and faith.

 

Visiting St Chad’s, Holt

The “Roman pillar”

There is currently no dedicated website, so there is no generally available online information about opening times.  I was able to walk in during the day one bank holiday Monday on a whim, and found it open. On the other hand, I was there some months later at around 1230 on a Wednesday and it was closed, but I found that it had opened later in the afternoon.  There is a Facebook page but it has no details about opening times and contact details.  Please note that the email address on the National Churches Trust page bounces (i.e. it is defunct).  This is a living church, with Sunday services, weddings and funerals, so even if you do find out what the opening times may be, there will be times when it is not possible to gain access.

There is plenty of parking along the road, but there is also a public car park just a few minutes walk away on the other side of the rectangular grass area, Church Green, on the other side of the road from the church.  There is a car park next to the Dee on the Farndon side, but this is very small and fills up quickly at the weekend and during the school holidays, and floods when the river is up.

One of the bilingual interpretation panels in the church, describing the early development of the town

Information boards and circular panels on short pedestals explain the heritage of the church and are nicely done and for the most part do not intrude on the look and feel of the church.  A small black and white leaflet was available on the table to the right in the tower as you walk in, consisting of two sides of A4, folded, that lists the key features to see in the church.

For those worried about steps and accessibility, the church can be visited without having to negotiate any obstacles, as there is a ramp from the tower into the nave.  There are plenty of pews for giving irritable legs a rest.  Outside, there is a  wide path that runs along the south side of the church and a narrower one along the north side and these both felt safe underfoot. There are also tracks through the churchyard, but if you are looking for a particular grave, note that the grassy spaces between graves are very uneven and you need to take seriously good care where you place your feet.  I suspect that it gets very muddy during rainy periods, so appropriate footwear is recommended.

This would make an excellent start or finish to a walk along the River Dee, which has footpaths on both sides of the river.  The late medieval bridge is itself a joy.  On the Holt side a visit could easily take in Holt Castle as well and on the Farndon side there is, of course, the other St Chad’s.  There’s a pub next door to the Holt church that advertises food and a garden, which I haven’t yet tried, but might be handy for the end of a walk.  There are other pubs and coffee shops on both sides of the river, all serving food.


————-

Sources:

Visitor information in St Chad’s, Holt

Interpretation boards and panels

Free leaflet:  20 Minutes of Discovery Around St Chad’s Church Holt

 

Books and papers:

Farmer, David 2011 (5th edition).  Oxford Dictionary of Saints. Oxford University Press

Hubbard, Edward 1986.  The Buildings of Wales.  Clwyd (Denbighshire and Flintshire). Penguin Books and University of Wales Press

Latham, Frank. 1981.  Farndon: the History of a Cheshire Village. Farndon Local History Society


Websites:

Archaeodeath 
Skulls in Stone and Brass: Inside Holt Church
https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2015/08/25/skulls-in-stone-and-brass-inside-holt-church/
Masters of Holt
https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2015/10/09/masters-of-holt/

Based In Churton
Big and bold: All Saints’ Church in the small village of Gresford
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-43a
Gresford All Saints’ Church – exterior gargoyles and grotesques
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-498
Gresford All Saints’ Church – a beginner’s guide to funerary monuments
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-49Z
Miracles, myths, demons and the occasional grin: Misericords in the Chester-Wrexham area #2:  The churches of Gresford All Saints’, Malpas St Oswald’s and Bebington St Andrew’s
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-4Ey

British Listed Buildings
The Parish Church of St Chad, Holt
https://britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/300001596-parish-church-of-st-chad-holt

Cadw
The Parish Church of St Chad, reference 1596
https://cadwpublic-api.azurewebsites.net/reports/listedbuilding/FullReport?lang=en&id=1596

Coflein
St Chad’s, Holt
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/165283/?term=holt&pg=2
(images at https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/165283/images?term=holt)
Holt Bridge; Farndon Bridge, Holt, Wrexham

https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/24043/

Early Tourists in Wales
North side of the churchyard
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/material-culture/buildings/churchyards/special-graves/north-side-of-the-churchyard/

CPAT / HENEB – Wrexham Churches Survey
Church of St Chad, Holt
https://heneb.org.uk/archive/cpat/Archive/churches/wrexham/16796.htm
or https://cpat.org.uk/Archive/churches/wrexham/16796.htm 

National Churches Trust
St Chad’s, Holt
https://www.nationalchurchestrust.org/church/st-chad-holt

Peoples Collection Wales
St Chad’s Church, Holt
https://www.peoplescollection.wales/items/435519#?xywh=0%2C-55%2C799%2C642

St Chad’s, Holt – Facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/pages/St-Chads-Church-Holt/102667013120267

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One of the many heads at the tops of the aisle walls

 

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum 1854-1870 – Part 2.2

As I outlined in part 2.1, for part 2, just as in Part 1, I have again divided part 2 into two posts, 2.1 and 2.2, mainly because of the number of images used, which would take too long to load if I left it as a single piece.  This is the second part of part 2, part 2.2.  Part 2.1 is here.
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Insights from the annual Visitor and Superintendent Reports for 1854-1870 contd.

Patients and their backgrounds

In the annual reports, patients are largely reduced to numbers.  Without exception the reports never give personal names of patients, only rarely referring occasionally to specific individual cases, such as suicides, escapes or, as in 1857, the birth of a child, and there are only a few clues in the annual report about who these people were.  One of the vital tables in this respect, which always appeared in the annual report, showed the occupations of each of the admissions for each year.  Given that this was mainly an asylum established for paupers, it is not surprising to find that most of the intake was from the lower-paid levels of Cheshire society, but the term “pauper” when applied to asylum patients did not always refer to very poor people. The term “pauper” covers a range of people.  Some were genuinely very impoverished, such as those transferred from workhouses, but others might be fully employed but without sufficient funds for their families to afford asylum costs.  This is probably one reason why there is a wide range of trades and professions represented, partly representing Chester’s diverse economic basis.   The variety of occupations might be more mixed when private patients from middle class families were admitted, or when patients were transferred from other asylums such as Staffordshire and Denbigh.   Two examples are shown below, one from 1855 and another from 1870.

Occupations of patients admitted to the asylum in 1855

The previous occupations of patients admitted in 1870

In every report the numbers of new admissions were listed both the symptoms with which patients were admitted in the tables accompanying the reports, together with the supposed causes in Table IX (until 1868).  The supposed causes are of interest, because they are specific to individual cases, and change annually, although recurring causes inevitably appear from one year to the next.  The following example is from the 1862 report about 1861:

Tables showing the types of mental illness and their supposed causes for 1861

The 1862 report for 1861 reported that the asylum was now capable of housing 500 patients, with the new extra capacity unused, resulting in the decision to charge private patients who were unable to afford more expensive solutions.  It was deemed that the admission of this new class of patients required a set of additional rules that would be applicable to these new more privileged patients.

A page from the 1867 Cheshire Asylum report

Occasionally something related to an individual patient is deemed important enough to report and these give some clues about the circumstances from which these patients came.  For example, in the March of 1862 a “deaf and dumb idiot” was admitted from a workhouse, and within three days had developed symptoms of smallpox.  A second patient soon showed the same symptoms and both had to be isolated from the rest of the asylum patients.  Again in 1862 a female patient gave birth, and this child was “subsequently removed to the Workhouse.”  In 1866 a woman died within six hours of having been admitted and the sad jury verdict determined that the death was due to natural causes “accelerated by ill-treatment, want of proper food and the miserable hovel she lived in.”  In 1867 a female was admitted with advanced Phthisis Pulmonalis,(pulmonary tuberculosis, also referrred to at the time as “consumption”) in a state of extreme exhaustion.  She gave birth a month later to premature baby, and both died. In the same year, a woman was taken to see her dying husband in her home near Middlewich, giving “no small degree a melancholy satisfaction to both, and probably was the means of saving the patient, a melancholic one, considerable subsequent distress of mind.”  One of the female inmates gave birth to a child, which, when a month old, was removed by the Relieving Officer, and delivered to the husband.  In another case of a childbirth within the asylum, both mother and child died.  There are very few other examples listed.

There are plenty of references in the Cheshire Asylum reports to areas outside Cheshire that had asylums of their own, but would send some of their patients asylums outside their immediate areas, including Chester, when they became full to capacity, thereby incurring associated charges.  An example from 1862 is the intake of patients from parishes in north Wales due to the Denbigh asylum being full.  The charges imposed for taking in these patients was used to improve conditions at the Chester asylum, enabling the purchase of “a large portion of the furniture required for the new buildings, but for which the Committee would have been under the necessity of applying for a further sum to supplement the grant of £500 already made by the Court of Quarter Sessions for this purpose.”

An excerpt from the 1855 list of items that were made in-house

It is discussed in part 2.1 (Ideology) how patients were put to work within the asylum partly to control costs, but more particularly to provide them with a sense of self and personal achievement. Women sewed and knitted, and sometimes helped out on the wards.  By 1867 all the clothes, shoes and bedding were being made within the establishment. The report for 1868 shed more light on this.  Of a total population (by the end of the year) of 255 men and 257 women, 120 men and 140 women were employed in productive activities in the asylum.  80-90 men worked in the garden and farm, 8 worked as tailors, 10 as shoemakers, 5 at other trades, and 55 in the wards and offices in unspecified roles.  100-110 women were engaged in sewing and knitting, 22 were in the laundry and washhouse, 9 were in the kitchen and offices and 30-40 assisted on the wards.

In 1870 it was recorded that “an excellent practice has lately been adopted” whereby every patient due to be discharged would be brought before the Committee so that they could be questioned about their treatment and asked if there were any complaints, following which they would have to sign a form confirming their statements.

The overall impression is one in which patients generally came from the lower levels of Chester’s social scale, with a few middle class patients, generally private, and that at the asylum they were integrated into a new community where they were cared for, and to which they could contribute.
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Form of Mental Disorder

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum Report of 1855 showing the main reasons for admission

One of the tables in each report showed the main “disorder” with which patients were admitted, with any complications.  They make for a fairly startling insight into just how varied and potentially difficult patient symptoms could be.  It is difficult to find precise modern analogies for the forms of disorder shown, not only because they were not always precisely defined in the 19th century, but because definitions could differ from asylum to asylum.

Forms of mental disorder with which new admissions were afflicted 1854 – 1867

The four main classes of disorder were Mania, Melancholia, Dementia and Amentia, the latter subdivided into Imbeciles and Idiots.  I have listed Amentia as a single class in the above graph, due to the lack of any clarification on how idiocy and imbecility were distinguished by the asylum.  Other causes could be added to the table as well.  In 1855, for example, intemperance (alcoholism) was specifically noted as a direct and dominant cause of insanity in new admissions:

Intemperance, as usual, appears to have been one of the most fertile causes of the disease, and this was more especially the case amongst the class of skilled artizans who received high wages. As shewn in table 10, in fourteen instances the attack of insanity was directly attributable to it; and undoubtedly in a large number of the other cases, habits of intemperance acted as a predisposing cause. It unfortunately happens that the offspring of such parents are extremely liable to insanity.

However those shown above in Table IX from the 1855 report, were the main categories up until 1867 when the format of the tables changed, and the “forms of disorder” table was changed.  Hill and Laugharne, looking at the Bodmin asylum data suggest that these conditions could be broadly understood as follows, although this is tentative, and reflects the difficulty that was found in categorizing mental illness in the 19th century.  Mania is thought to have represented manic episodes, for which they suggest that a test would be to look at the age at which the symptoms began to manifest themselves, expecting to find it appearing in patients aged between 10-30 years old.  Melancholia was more closely associated with what were later referred to as depression.  They find dementia more difficult to pin down but suggest that it may equate to schizophrenia, but if correct, this too would have manifested itself in younger patients.  Taber’s Medical Dictionary Online describes Amentia as “1. Congenital mental deficiency; mental retardation. 2. Mental disorder characterized by confusion, disorientation, and occasionally stupor,” but it was broadly associated with those who suffered from learning difficulties, described in the Chester asylum reports as “idiots” and “imbeciles.”

As well as the main forms of disorder, complications could have a considerable impact on any chance of recovery.  Although suicidal tendencies accounted for a considerable proportion of each year’s intake, as shown in the chart above, the greatest complication for any possibility of recovery was General Paralysis, which was one of the most common cause of death in the asylum.

Suicide, which is discussed further below, could be guarded against within the asylum, meaning that even when high numbers of patients were admitted with suicidal propensities, there was a very low rate of suicide within the asylum itself.

General Paralysis of the Insane (GPI), to give it its full title, also known as General Paresis, impacted men far more often than women and was the most frequent contributor to the number of deaths recorded in the asylum each year, with much greater numbers usually found among men than women.  As Kelley Swain illustrates, it was not understood in the 19th century, although not through want of speculation:

“Treponema pallidum” (in Swain 2018)

General paresis (or paralysis) of the insane (GPI) was crippling and terminal. It ended in loss of control over mind and body, often accompanied by grandiose delusions of wealth and power and, finally, paralytic death. There was no known cause. Could GPI be caused by overwork? Emotional labour? Mental strain? Sexual promiscuity? Drink? These were possible causes listed by William Julius Mickle in 1880. . . A disease of dissolution and disrepute, GPI was also considered a result of that most Edwardian horror: degeneration

In fact, GPI was the result of undiagnosed syphilis, a bacterial infection usually transmitted sexually, hence its association with disreputable activities.  No cure was found until the early 1900s, when the bacterium Treponema pallidum was discovered in Germany, leading to the manufacture in 1908 of a drug called arsphenamine later renamed Salvarsan.  GPI was a genuine problem for lunatic asylums like Chester’s.  Because it was incurable, and it required constant nursing attention, patients who were admitted with GPI took up vacancies at the expense of those who might be cured.  It was a massive dilemma. 

The seizures associated with epilepsy were originally thought to be outbreaks of madness, and were treated accordingly but by the mid 19th-century there was a much better understanding, particularly as a result of the work by neurologist John Hughlings-Jackson, of the causes.  In 1857 Sir Charles Locock successfully applied the first effective anti-seizure drug, potassium bromide, to epileptic patients.  For much of the later 19th century epileptics began to be treated as a separate class of patient, either in dedicated wards and buildings or in epileptic colonies.

A recurring theme in the reports, which has been mentioned before, was the frustration that patients were not admitted until their conditions were very advanced, considerably reducing the likelihood of recovery and filling the asylum with those who could not be nursed back to health and cured at the expense of those in need.

It too often happens that to save expense, or else from misplaced charitable motives, the patient is detained at home by his friends, with a hope that improvement may take place; and when it is too late for medical treatment to be of any service, he is removed to the Asylum, where he is likely to remain for life, a burden to bis friends, or to the township to which he belongs; whereas, had be been sent as soon as the malady had manifested itself, there would have been every probability of his speedy recovery, and of his being able once more to support himself and family by his own labour.

John Hughlings-Jackson (1835-1911). Source: Wikipedia

In 1857 the report for 1856 reinforced the point, drawing attention to the fact that of the forty seven who had been discharged as recovered, thirty nine of those patients had been admitted within three months of having been declared insane.

The confusion of mental illness with neurological disorders in the 19th century was understandable, and it was only through the work of medical pioneers like John Hughlings-Jackson that the two began to be seen as separate fields of medical research, with psychiatry and neurology both developing into essential branches of medicine.

There is almost nothing in any of the Chester asylum reports about what sort of treatments were applied, so it is not possible to track how treatment might have evolved.  Nor is there any information about how discharged patients were deemed to be “cured” or “relieved.”  Nor is it explained why, if they were not in any way improved, they were discharged anyway.
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General health and disease

The physical condition of patients admitted to the asylum in 1870

A recurring theme in the reports draws attention to the weak condition and general ill health of new admissions that undermined the efforts of the staff to support new patients.  Many of those who died soon after admission were already in a poor state of health, in spite of being provided with good food and other stimuli.  Those referred from workhouses were often in a very bad way.  This was blamed in some reports on the Relieving Officer who was responsible, at parish level, for assessing paupers and their needs, and for delivering any suitable candidates to the asylums.

There was always the risk of a patient being admitted with a dangerous disease.  In 1864 a patient suffering from smallpox was admitted, which lead to a new bye-law authorizing the Medical Superintendent to reject infectious patients.  In 1865 this was acted upon when a potential patient was indeed refused admission.  On the other hand, there is no mention in the 1867 report for 1866 about any patients contracting cholera, which was an epidemic in that year.


Patients transferred from the Workhouse

The Chester Workhouse, on the edge of the Roodee, hemmed in on all sides. Sometime after 1840. Source: ChesterWiki

The relationship between the Chester workhouse and the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum is an important one and needs far more exploration than is possible here.  As Alistair Ritch has highlighted in his study of transfers between Birmingham are workhouses and asylums, there was a great deal of movement in both directions in England.  Following changes introduced by the 1834 Poor Law Act workhouses were required to move certain patients to local asylums:  “nothing in this Act contained shall authorise the detention in any workhouse of any dangerous lunatic, insane person, or idiot for any longer period than fourteen days” (section 45).  They were often in very poor condition by the time the decision was made to transfer them, both before and after 1834, making it very difficult to treat patients both for ill health and for mental illness.  In the other direction, those long-term residents of the asylum who were deemed to be both harmless and incurable might be moved to workhouses to make room for more acute cases.

In the 1857 report for 1856 the problem of workhouse admissions was highlighted, which provides a useful insight into the relationship between workhouse and asylum, and the problems in capacity that this represented for the asylums:

It appears that there are at this time more epileptic, idiotic, and chronic pauper patients in the different Workhouses of the County and elsewhere, than the patients actually
present in the Asylum; and as the Commissioners in Lunacy recommend that all these shall be brought into the public Asylum of a County, and also recommend that at least one acre of land for ten patients should be provided for their occupation, the quantity of land with that now proposed to be purchased would be in about that proportion, viz. 70 acres for 600 patients.

Dr Brushfield commented on the referrals from the workhouse in 1859, and how these were less likely to recover due to the lateness of the referrals, than those admitted early from other sources.  This is a recurring theme, but was raised particularly with reference to workhouse transfers.

It cannot be too often reiterated, that the chances of the patient’s recovery depends in the great majority of cases upon the circumstance whether the removal to the Asylum is early or late after the primary outbreak of the attack. The patients admitted to the Asylum during the past year, were 11s a class, of a worse description than usual; for instance, at the monthly meeting in October, the following extract was read from my Diary:-

“I beg to call the attention of the committee to the bad and incurable type of cases that are now being brought to the Asylum. Of the eleven patients admitted since the last meeting, there is only one where there is much probability of a cure being established, there are two cases of doubtful issue, and the remaining eight are positively incurable.  Seven of the eleven were admitted from workhouses, and four of this number had been the subjects of restraint.”

When a patient is sent to the Workhouse, which practice in some townships is the rule, considerable delay in the removal to the Asylum is too frequently experienced, and as a
sequence, the recoveries amongst those brought from workhouses are proportionately few, and the deaths many. The following table of the cases admitted into this Asylum during the past year, will bear out the correctness of these remarks.

By 1860 concerns about overcrowding at the asylum, there being no more male capacity and only  a few places available in the female wards, lead to a brief exploration of the various options, which included expanding the asylum yet again, shifting patients to other English asylums, and moving others to the workhouse.  Of the latter option it was suggested that workhouses represented the least desirable option, “it being a fact well known to all experienced in the treatment of recent acute cases too often results in retarding the discovery, or in causing the degeneration from a curable into a chronic incurable state.”  In the 1862 report for 1861 Dr Brushfield expanded upon this point:

In several instances where Patients, after having been quiet and harmless for many months, or even years, in the Asylum, have been removed to the Workhouse, they have, in the course of a short time, been sent back to the Asylum as “dangerous” either to themselves or to others, or to both.

In 1866 there were too few spaces for the number of patients referred to the asylum, and the only solutions were to transfer the new patients to other asylums, if any of those were lucky enough to have capacity, or to send them to workhouses.  As none of the asylums approached had any spare capacity, it is assumed that several of the Chester asylum patients were sent to the workhouse in spite of Dr Brushfield’s considerable misgivings.

The subject of the relationship between the Chester asylum and the workhouse would reward a research project in its own right.
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The emphasis on recovery

Duration of insanity prior to admission asylum in 1855

The objective of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was not merely confinement but cure, although apart from a community and activity based approach to mental illness, it is by no means clear how recovery was to be achieved.  The reports are concerned to record and discuss recoveries, as well as the reasons why some patients could not be cured.  Some patients were too unwell to treat effectively when they were admitted to the asylum:  “It is lamentable to find that in such a large proportion of the cases admitted, medical skill is of no avail.”  There is a clear differentiation between those who have the potential for recovery and those who do not.  In the 1855 report this was because of complications due to epilepsy and general paralysis, a recurring theme in these reports, and also because, in some cases, mental illness was too far advanced into the “chronic stage” for any improvement.  The usual explanation for this is that admission came too late in their illness, as this example from the report, also for 1855, makes explicit:

Table XIII (13) from the 1855 report

It too often happens that to save expense, or else from misplaced charitable motives, the patient is detained at home by his friends, with a hope that improvement may take place; and when it is too late for medical treatment to be of any service, he is removed to the Asylum, where he is likely to remain for life, a burden to his friends, or to the township to which he belongs; whereas, had he be been sent as soon as the malady has manifested itself, there would have been every probability of his speedy recovery, and of his being able once more to support himself and family by his own labour. In table 13 it will be seen that out of the 52 cases discharged cured, 32 left the Asylum within six months from the time of their admission.

The report cites a case of one individual who was only kept alive by a stomach pump that administered food, and who died after five months.

This was reiterated in 1861 when Dr Brushfield wrote:

The proportion is wholly governed by the number of curable cases admitted, as of this
class 70 or even 80 per cent. are discharged recovered, hence the importance and necessity of sending the patients to an institution of this kind before the malady has assumed a chronic incurable form. In too many instances the Asylum, instead of serving the purpose of a hospital for curable cases, has simply become a receptacle for incurables.

The ordinary diet table for females from the 1870 report

In 1867 the 21st Report of the Commissioners in Lunacy to the Lord Chancellor was published, for the year 1866.  It listed all the asylums with which it was concerned, showing the data for the total number of inmates in the asylum at year end, and the proportion of those deemed to be probably curable and those deemed to be incurable.  Out of 481 patients (238 male, 243 female) only 13 were “probably curable” (5 males and 8 females) whilst 468 were “probably incurable. ” In the following year, 1868 the percentage of recoveries, 46.5%, was higher than in any previous years but no specific reasons are provided to account for the difference between these two sets of figures.

In spite of this gloomy prognosis, patients were fed well, if unimaginatively, three times a day, and for paupers, many of whom had probably had very little in the way of consistent and healthy diets, the provision of regular meals full of carbohydrates and protein was probably better than many of them had experienced, and was essential for any  hope of recovery.  The fact that the farm, on which many of the men worked, supplied a lot of the daily food supplies must have been a source of some satisfaction to male patients.
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Discharges, deaths and escapes
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Discharges partly reflected the success rate of the asylum, the overall aim of which was to return patients to society rather than retain them, so these were always displayed prominently in the tables and discussed in the text. A distinction was made between those who were considered to have completely recovered, those whose symptoms were relieved and those who had not improved.    Superintendent Brushfield was well aware of how the statistical tables could disguise some of the underlying information about recoveries and in his 1860 report for 1859 attempted to clarify the situation as regards curable versus incurable patients:

Of course the proportion of recoveries must depend upon the proportion of curable cases admitted, which varies much from year to year: for instance, during 1858 the admissions consisted of 43 curable and 47 incurable cases, whilst in 1859 the numbers were much more disproportionate, there having been 49 of the former and 70 of the latter. Of the 49 of the curable class 26 were discharged as recovered during the course of the year, and nearly two thirds of the remaining 23 are progressing favourably towards mental restoration.

Causes of death shown in the 1857 report, including 12 cases of General Paralyis, 10 cases of Phthisis (which sometimes followed General Paralysis) and two suicides

Deaths were inevitable, and were the result of a variety of causes.  In 1854 nineteen men and twenty women had been discharged, and there were a total of thirty deaths, a third of which were put down to “General Paralysis,” which was incurable and was the main cause of death over the entire period that these reports cover.  In 1870 this figure still remained high (15 men and 7 women)  In the 1860 report for 1859, Superintendent Brushfield highlighted the much higher than average number of deaths and some of its causes:

There was a considerable increase in the proportion of deaths and several circumstances contributed to swell the number. The mild winter of 1858, assisted in prolonging the lives of manv of our feeble cases for a few months, thereby lessening the mortality of one year to increase that of the next; whilst the severe weather that occurred during the middle of December last, operated very banefully on those suffering from great prostration of the mental powers, or organic bodily disease. The large number of aged persons admitted tended to produce a similar result. One-third of the number was due to general paralysis.

Tables from 1862 showing ages of patients who have died and the duration of their treatment before death

By 1870 a wider range of causes of death were being reported under different categories

In 1855 and again in 1857 one third of admissions had been recorded as suicidal, but although suicide attempts were occasionally recorded, thirteen years had elapsed before two were successful in the same year, noted in the report for 1857. This is in spite of the fact that some patients had been admitted not only having suicidal tendencies but having made serious suicide attempts prior to admission.  An example from 1857 describes how: “in several the attempts made were of the worst desperate description; and in two instances the patients at the time of their admission had extensive incised wounds of the throat which subsequently healed.”

New admissions with suicidal tendencies into the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum from 1854-1870

 

Overview of suicides in the report for 1861

In 1861 two patients had been admitted who had attempted suicide by cutting their throats, one of whom had been confined within the workhouse for two years previously.  The year’s only successful suicide lead to new measures to prevent a repeat:

 

For special notice is that of a male patient who committed suicide in the day time by strangulation. Every precaution appears to have been adopted with a view to guard against his known suicidal propensity. The open ironwork at the head of one of the old bedsteads, however, afforded him the opportunity he had sought. Nearly fifty of these bedsteads were in use when Mr Brushfield entered upon the duties of Superintendent in 1852. All since introduced have been of wood, and of a safe construction . . . It has, consequently, been deemed right to order an alteration, now in progress, in all the iron bedsteads, by the substitution of sheet iron for open work.

1870 was also a particularly bad year for those who were admitted having actually attempted to commit suicide, although there is no attempt to explain why this should be so, and no new suicide attempts were recorded after admission into the asylum:

Of the year’s admissions it was found that a large number had a strong suicidal propensity, and that several had made desperate efforts to commit self-destruction prior to their being brought here: the subjects of melancholia exhibited this proclivity in the greatest intensity.  Six cases were received into the asylum with their throats more or less severely cut, all of whom however recovered of their wounds,. except one – a male patient – who died five days after admission,  five days after admission, when a Coroner’s inquest was held upon the body, and the Jury gave a verdict to the effect that death was caused by self-inflicted injury.  None but those connected with Asylums for the Insane can form an adequate conception of the anxiety which this class of patients causes to the Medical Officers.

Escapes were only noted in the tables where the person had been missing for over a day.  There were several escapes in 1854, one in 1855, two in 1863, two in 1864 and one in 1870, which is a remarkably low number.  One escape attempt resulted in the escaped man drowning in a local canal; this was considered to be an accident rather than a suicide attempt.  This very good record was put down to the amount of freedom accorded to patients as well as their good treatment.
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Re-admission

Re-admissions are not mentioned in every report but are interesting when they are, indicating that someone who had been discharged back into society had not been successfully reintegrated and needed to return to the asylum for treatment.  It is unclear what sort of medical or emotional support someone discharge might or might nor receive from the asylum, although there was a charitable fund for helping them financially. A list in the 1863 report for 1862 displays re-admissions versus admissions since 1842. The percentages indicate that this was a fairly high annual number:

One of the problems with these figures is that the re-admissions do not correspond directly to the admissions, as some of them were admitted from previous years. Other reports make it clear that some re-admissions were within the year covered by the report, but that others clearly represented lapses after many years, so that the percentage of re-admissions does not relate directly to yearly admissions.  The figures in this table are still interesting for two reasons.  First, they indicate that re-admissions were generally quite low for the 17 years concerned, particularly as there does not seem to have been much in the way of after-care, but they did occur.  Second, these figures had not been recorded in most of the preceding reports, although they must have been recorded somewhere for them to be included in the 1862 report.
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Religion and education

The religious persuasion of admissions in 1867

Access to Christian services was considered important not only for the moral and religious wellbeing of patients, but also to reduce the potential tedium of asylum life.  The 1858 report for 1857 describes how a new residential chaplain was appointed:

The necessity of having Divine Service performed more frequently in the Chapel of the Asylum has recently brought under the attention of the Committee. After investigating the matter very fully, and finding that such services not only broke the monotony unavoidably connected with these Institutions, but exercised a more salutary influence on the patients, they appointed the present Chaplain, the Rev. R. Congreve, to be resident Chaplain, with a salary of £200 per annum, and an allowance of £50 per annum for a house, until the same could be provided for him. Divine Service will now be performed once every week day and twice on Sunday, instead of (as heretofore) once in the week and once on Sunday, and the Chaplain’s whole time devoted to the Asylum.

From 1858 the annual report occasionally included a section contributed by the Reverend Congreve, and it is one one of the aspects of asylum life on which the visiting commissioners of lunacy regularly commented in the annual report.  There were two services on Sundays, one on Fridays, and prayer readings every day in the Recreation Hall, as well as services on Christmas Day and on Good Friday.  A choir was made up of both attendants and patients, and Reverend Congreve reported that “all the Sunday evening when they return to the wards, you will find many of them joining together and singing some of the hymns.”  Holy Communion was also organized four times a year for a small minority of the asylum residents who required it (for example, in 1867 there were 14 who took advantage of this provision, out of a total number of 526 patients at year end).

In the report for 1863 it was noted that church attendances averaged from between 108 to 118.  In 1867 the church had reached its capacity of 300, made up of both patients and attendants, and many had to be excluded.  As a result, in 1868 the pews were reorganized to allow an additional 70 to attend.  During the closure for this alteration, “as many patients as could be trusted” were accompanied to Upton Church.  The average congregation after the reorganization was now 320, still including both residents and attendants.

The establishment of the fund for discharged patients in 1863

Reverend Congreve managed a charitable subscription fund called the Convalescent Fund, which was  contributed to by people from the local community to assist those who were discharged, which was designed to help them to re-establish themselves. There were occasionally concerns about this running very short of funds, but every now and again it received a generous contribution or legacy.  The report for 1867 describes how a a legacy of £100.00 was provided, making a substantial difference to the fund.

The chaplain also managed two voluntary schools, one each for male and female, as a form of leisure activity.  A schoolmaster was provided by the men, but women were taught by two nurses.  Over time as well as Bible study and reading, the school taught writing and basic arithmetic and one of the chaplain’s activities was to deliver books and periodicals to the patients, taking particular effort to make sure that those who had difficulty reading had material with plenty of illustrations.  In 1867 the school attracted 30 men and 30 women.
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Personnel

Staffing consisted of a Superintendent, an Assistant Medical Assistant, a Matron, a number of male and female attendants and nursing staff.  These were supplemented by a bailiff, a head gardener and his staff, workshop artisans, the lodge keeper and his wife, and a porter.  The farm, which included both livestock and crop production, would presumably have been staffed quite extensively.

Within the asylum, efforts were made to ensure that women staff worked in the female wards and that male staff worked in the men’s wards.  Long-term employees were provided with pensions.  In 1854, for example, a resident steward was appointed, a new matron replaced the incumbent matron who was provided with pension after 15 years of employment, the head attendant retired due to ill health after over 20 years of employment.  Both were provided with a pension of £20.00 per annum.  The outgoing Medical Superintendent was granted a pension of 200.00 per annum.

Staffing levels are usually reported on within the report, and in 1861 there is a useful insight into staffing at the asylum at that time:

On the male side there are a, head attendant, 13 ordinary attendants, (there being at present one vacancy,) and a gardener and an engineer, each of whom has charge of patients during the day. On the female side, under the Matron there are 15 nurses employed exclusively as such, and a laundress, a cook, and a housemaid. The above are exclusive of the night attendants, one in each division, whose duties, during one night in about 13, are taken in turn by the ordinary attendants.

There had been a reference in the report for 1866 to note that “in most cases” attendants had maintained good standards, which looked somewhat as though some details were being glossed over.  In 1867, it was not deemed possible to ignore that “on one or two occasions” attendants had been charged with striking patients, although no-one was dismissed.  From this year there were repeated problems in this regard.   The report for 1867 also commented that female attendants were short by two due to the difficulty of hiring suitable personnel.  It was suggested that this might be due to the low starting salaries, and it was recommended that this might be increased.

The Handbook for Attendants of the Insane. Source: Royal College of Nursing, “Out of the Asylum”

In 1865 the problem of training frontline staff, both attendants and nurses, in lunatic asylums was recognized by the medical profession and a manual was produced for their use, the Handbook for Attendants on the Insane. It was known colloquially as “The Red Book.” The book cover on the left shows that this was the sixth edition, a measure of its success.  You can read a copy of it on the Wellcome Collection website here (the 1884 edition).  It was not until the early 1890s that training schemes and examinations were first set up for frontline staff at lunatic asylums by the Medico-Psychological Association (which later became the Royal College of Psychiatrists).

In 1868 “considerable difficulty” was experienced finding “efficient and well-conducted” attendants to fill vacancies.  The loss of the Head Female Attendant in that year due to ill health lead to the combination of her role with that of the Matron (it is not recorded quite what the matron made of this).  These staffing difficulties may contributed to the finding of the Lunacy Commission Visitors in that year that although men presented an acceptable appearance, some of the female patients to be “poorly clad and still more untidy, and as if ill-attended to.”  One woman complained of injuries imposed by the staff, still visible, that had not been escalated to the upper hierarchy for investigation.  Although her bouts of violent epilepsy meant that her injuries may have been accidental or the result of trying to pacify her, the failure to report the incident was a cause of concern.  However, it is clear that there were real problems with some of the staff.  In the same year, 1868, a few of the staff members were dismissed for “misconduct, wilful neglect of patients and incompetency” and the rules for staff were revised to ensure the regulation of conduct within the asylum and to ensure proper attention to patient care, but there were still occasional problems.

In spite of genuine efforts, in 1869 several male attendants were dismissed, one of whom was prosecuted for striking a patient and was fined £10.00 per costs, which he paid rather than being imprisoned for three months (to put this in perspective, the National Archives Currency Converter suggests that today this would be equivalent to around £626.00, or 50 days salary for a skilled tradesman).

The combination of low salaries and increasing numbers of patients apparently made it difficult to hire sufficient attendants who had both the skills and the physical and appropriate personal attributes to care for patients according to the values of the moral treatment approach.  The experience at most asylums was that as patient numbers grew, it became increasingly difficult to maintain this empathetic approach, and it would be interesting to know how Dr Brushfield fared after he moved to Brookwood, which at the time of his new appointment had capacity for 650 patients.

 

Asylum Deaths in Overleigh Cemetery

Family gravestone that includes the name of Ellen McLean Thurston, who died in the asylum at the age of 42. Photograph by Christine Kemp. Source: FindAGrave.com

Without access to the asylum’s records it is difficult to find out information about patients, why they were there and how they died.  I have not yet found out where Asylum patients were buried prior to the opening of Overleigh Cemetery in 1850.  However, a burial dataset from Overleight itself can, in some casesbe matched up to newspaper reports.  The contents of this section have been provided by Christine Kemp’s entries for in the Virtual Asylum Cemetery for Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries on the Find A Grave website, putting names to some of the anonymous statistics captured in the annual report.

Overleigh Cemetery opened in November 1850.  To date Christine Kemp (Friends of Overleigh Cemetery) has found records of 67 patients at the asylum having been buried at Overleigh between 1852 and 1900, as well as 3 from other asylums (Tranmere, St Mary’s Parish and Latchford).  The youngest if these was 15 and the eldest 77.  Two were suicides.  According to Chris’s research on the Asylum Virtual Cemetery, of the 67 known Asylum patient burials, 26 (39%) had no memorials and are in unmarked graves, some of them were buried in common graves (7, or 10.5%), and one of them was interred in a communal cholera grave. In five cases, patient burials are recorded on plots with memorials, but their names are not mentioned on those memorials. Given the size of the asylum and the numbers of deaths recorded in the annual reports, others must remain to be identified or were buried elsewhere.  Cremation was not a possibility in Chester until as late as 1965.

Causes of death are almost never shown on gravestones, but some of them refer to the suffering of the deceased in life.  The memorial for asylum patient Edward Edwards, who died at the age of 69 on the 26th January 1894, is an example of this genre and reads: “His Languishing Head is at Rest / Its thinking and aching are over / His quiet immovable breast / Is heaved by affliction no more.”

The understated gravestone of Edward (Ned) Langtry, husband of actress Lily Langtry. Photograph by Christine Kemp. Source: FindAGrave.com

Chris has managed to track how some of these people were employed in life, and most of those that she had were in fairly modest work, as one would expect from an asylum set up to assist paupers and those whose families could not afford their care. This agrees with the asylum records which show how patients were employed prior to being admitted.  A number were labourers, as well as the wives of labourers. Others are identified as a grocer’s assistant, a tailor, a porter, the wife of a wagoner, a pub landlord and the wife of a pub landlord, a sergeant major, a stone mason, a bricklayer, a mariner, the wife of a coachman, a “gentleman’s gardener,” a painter, a butcher, a fitter, a store and timekeeper, a char-woman, an engine driver, and a collier.

An unusual asylum patient was Edward (Ned) Langtry, the former husband of popular actress Lily Langtry, from whom he had separated in 1887.  In October 1897 he was found wandering after a bad fall in a state of delirium and was referred to the asylum by a magistrate, although he would probably have been better referred to hospital care.  He died in the asylum after nine days, suffering from “inflammation of the brain.”  His gravestone is a very understated affair, but the newspaper records that Lily Langtry sent a very impressive bouquet!  The full report of Ned Langtry’s death was reported in the Chester Courant, which can be seen on Chris’s entry on the FindAGrave website.

The asylum deaths reported in newspapers are useful exceptions, because most of the asylum deaths were not usually reported in any detail in the newspapers, such as the Cheshire Observer and the Chester Courant, unless the story was in some way sensational.  For example, another newspaper story reports on the death of asylum inmate Martha Miller who was buried in Overleigh Old Cemetery in an unmarked grave in 1879, and whose acts against her children makes for grizzly reading:

Grave of Martha Miller. Photograph by Chris Kemp (who marks the position of unmarked plots using bunches of flowers). Source: FindAGrave.com

She was the 3rd wife of Daniel Miller, Innkeeper of the Yacht Inn, Watergate Street, Chester. He had four living children from his previous marriages and two children with Martha, who was expecting their third. Martha had been in delicate health and had ruptured four blood vessels in the last nine months and had become quite despondent. On a Friday night in June she went to bed with two of her children from her present marriage, Alice aged 2½ yrs and Elizabeth Mary (Lizzie), aged 12 months. Shortly afterwards screams were heard by her stepdaughter Emma. Daniel broke down the bedroom door because it was locked, to find Martha had cut the throats of the children with a table knife, one fatally. She then had tried to commit suicide by the same means. Doctors were called for, who assisted with staunching the flow of blood. Martha who had become violent was put in a straitjacket and confined to the County lunatic asylum, Upton, Chester. Lizzie was taken to the infirmary where she recovered. Martha died at the lunatic asylum aged 30 yrs, after giving birth prematurely. At the Coroner’s inquest she was found ‘guilty of wilful murder’ of Alice Miller. Martha was buried on the 16th October 1879. Her baby daughter Martha, who was born prematurely in the asylum died just a few weeks after her mother on the 30th November 1879. (Source:- Cheshire Observer 21st June 1879 and Chester Courant 15th October 1879) [Researched by Christine Kemp and recorded on the FindAGrave website]

Another example is shoemaker Joseph Crawford whose death was reported in the Cheshire Observer on 14th November 1896.  He had been in the asylum for eight years, suffering from “chronic mania” and died suddenly, returning from church.  Interestingly, although the gravestone gives the name of his wife, who had died in 1882, and there was plenty of room for his name, and Chris has found a record of him being buried in this plot, his name is not mentioned on the gravestone.  Either there were no funds to inscribe the stone, or the manner of his death had lead any remaining family to decide to exclude his memory.

It will be very interesting to try to match the cemetery data with the asylum’s own records when the latter become available in 2026.  Although the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies listing of what they hold indicates that there are no burial records for the asylum, they do hold records of deaths, so it may be possible to extract information from the latter to tie in to the cemetery data.

I have assembled all the information that Chris has made available on her Virtual Asylum Cemetery in a 6-page table, which can be downloaded here, with accompanying notes.
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Sample page from the table and notes showing Cheshire Lunatic Asylum deaths buried at Overleigh Cemetery, assembled from data gathered by Christine Kemp.

After 1870

The asylum continued to grow after 1870, and was still operating when it was absorbed into the NHS in 1948.  On 31st December 1870 there were 536 patients in the asylum.  In 1910 this had risen to 1000, 1500 in the 1920s and 2000 in the 1930s.  In 1895 a completely new hospital was added to the site to the north of the original 1829 building, designed by Grayson and Ould, freeing up the 1829 building to be used as the women’s ward.  In 1912 a new dedicated block was built for epileptics, which had a more domestic feel to it.

The former Parkside Lunatic Asylum in Macclesfield, which opened in 1871 as a second Cheshire county asylum, to ease some of the pressure on Chester. Photograph by Colin Park CC BY-SA 2.0. Source: Wikipedia

In the 1860s it became clear that the hospital, catering for the entire county, was simply unable to cope, and the decision was made to build a new asylum to serve the east of the county.  The Second Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, also known as the Parkside Lunatic Asylum opened in May 1871 to accommodate 700 patients, with additional buildings added later to absorb over 1500 patients by 1938.  The Parkside Lunatic Asylum’s architectural style and layout represent a completely different paradigm from that of the original Cheshire Lunatic Asylum building of 1829.  It was  designed by Robert Griffiths, who specialized in institutional architecture and was built of red brick with features picked out attractively in contrasting pale and black stone and dressings.   The design is in the Italianate style, looking rather like a downscaled version of Osborne House (built for Queen Victoria on the Isle of Wight between 1845 and 1851).  Instead of a single building linked by a main corridor, Parkside was built on the pavilion-corridor arrangement, with discrete blocks connected by multiple corridors.

 

Future research potential

The reports used here, the annual Report of the Committee of Visitors and Superintendents, have so many statistical tables that have only been touched on here, and I have simply presented what they contain.  There has been no attempt at analysis.  A well-structured project to analyze this data would reveal much more than I have been able to even hint at for the asylum in the mid-1800s.   In addition, I have not discussed the accounts that are presented in the same reports, and that would benefit from the attention of someone who is familiar with accounting methods.

Cheshire Archives and Local Studies contents listing of records available when the offices open in 2026

There are many untold stories that live outside the reports used here, from the chairmen, the committee members, the visiting committee members, the staff, patients and those local community residents who paid into the voluntary fund for discharged patients.  It will be fascinating to see what is available in the Cheshire Archives and Local Studies office in Chester when it reopens in 2026 so that the earlier and later history of the asylum can be investigated, and it may be possible obtain insights into some of the individual stories of those who worked at, were admitted to and who contributed to the asylum.

It will also be very interesting to try to match Cheshire Archives records with the the Overleigh cemetery and inquest data.  Although the Cheshire Archives listing of what they hold indicates that there are no burial records for the asylum, they do hold records of deaths, so it may be possible to extract information to tie the two datasets together.  For example, it should be possible to match admission and discharge names with those in Overleigh and track back to inquests and newspaper reports.

Screen grab of the header from the Riverside archives list

At the same time, it would be worth investigating the Riverside Museum in Chester, which also has archives that are relevant to the asylum, and although these have not been digitized a listing of its holdings can be downloaded here.   Objects at the same museum may also provide insights into the material culture of the asylum at different times.

Another aspect of the Riverside Museum is that it informs visitors about how nursing became professionalized.  Although this might seem like history from above, as nursing was part of the infrastructure of control, in fact nursing was itself in its very earliest stages.  The role of women in the operation of an asylum is an aspect of how asylums developed.  Each asylum had a matron, and there was one from the beginning at the Chester asylum, but quite what her role was in the asylum, and how many female staff she oversaw is not entirely clear. Female staff would have been needed for female patients.  How much of this was caring and how much enforcement would depend on the nature of the patient and her symptoms.  At what point female attendants became a professional female body of nurses, becoming more expert and informed throughout the 19th century, is unclear, but the professionalization of nursing provided women with the opportunity to take on roles that were not merely menial, although such roles of course existed, but could be increasingly skilled.  If the data is available, and it is a big if, research into the role of women in the Chester asylum might produce some very interesting results when combined with other data and compared with nursing in hospital infirmaries and orphanages.

I originally intended to do a search on the asylum via the British Newspaper Archive, but the reports were so rich that I ran out of both room on this post, and time, so I decided to leave that for now, and perhaps pick it up at another time.  The same can be said for the Reports of the Commissioners in Lunacy to the Lord Chancellor.

The abandoned Denbigh Lunatic Asylum. Photograph by Steve R. Bishop. Source Everywhere from Where You are Not

Other institutions also related directly to the Chester asylum.  Several asylums had a relationship with the Chester asylum, each exchanging patients when they reached capacity, and this would be worth investigating.  One of those asylums, the Denbigh asylum, would be worth an investigation in its own right, as would the Macclesfield Parkside Asylum that opened in 1871 in east Cheshire.

The role of the clergy in the Chester asylum is interesting, and the role of clergy in other asylums would also be well worth exploring for comparative purposes.  Perhaps most importantly, the relationship between lunatic asylums and workhouses was obviously of fundamental importance to both types of institution, with problems associated with how patients were transferred between them, and this would be a fascinating area of investigation.

Finally, It would also be really useful to tie in the history of Victorian Chester with that of the asylum and see if there is any way of tying the two together to find correlations.

 

Final Comments on the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum

The 1829 Building

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was built in an era of social reform, and evolved during a period when philanthropy and social conscience were translated, painfully slowly, into governmental intervention and the passing of new laws.  The 1829 Building represents one of many strategies to cope with the multiple challenges of all the symptoms of mental illnesses, which do not have, after all, a single identifiable cause.

One of the buildings once associated with the lunatic asylum, possibly the “villa” built for the treatment of epileptics in 1912.  Never a thing of architectural beauty, it’s still a part of the asylum’s heritage, and very sad sight in this condition.  As of April 2025 it is a hive of activity, and is perhaps being converted for new use

As the 19th century developed beyond 1870, asylums continued to grow and new custom-designed institutions could be absolutely vast.  It is clear that the buildings of the Chester Lunatic Asylum continued to grow and adapt to meet demand.  In the first years of the 1890s the decision was made to add a completely new building, which was built between 1892 and 1898 to the north of the original building.  This housed the male patients, whilst the original building was used for women.  In 1911 a separate building known as “the villa” was established near the chapel for epileptics, and other buildings were established after the First World War.  The site continued to be expanded in the late 19th and throughout much of the 20th century to meet growing demands for its services.   It is by no means clear, without access to the reports, what sort of ethos and approach was taken when the asylum’s population had become so big.

The new NHS took over the hospital in 1948 and in the 1970s it became a department of the new general hospital that combined the Chester Royal Infirmary and the City Hospital.  In 1984 it was renamed the Countess of Chester.  In 2005 its original function was replaced by the Bowmere Psychiatric Unit and in 2016 Ancora House (the latter for young people, shown at the end, a presumably deliberate modern echo of the 1829 Building).

The 2016 Ancora House, just behind the chapel, employs some of the same devices that were used in The 1829 Building, with a central, noticeable and colourful entrance flanked by evenly positioned rectangular windows on a long facade.  Even the sculpture outside is a throwback to attempts to make the surrounding estate more attractive.

The 1829 Building is no longer longer devoted exclusively to mental health care  but contains other departments too. Other parts of the Countess of Chester continue to offer psychiatric support as mental illness continues to be a problem for families, for state and for society.  The modern Ancora House which opened behind the 19th century asylum chapel in 2016 and is shown here has now taken over much of that role.

Chester asylum was an early adopter of many aspects of the “moral treatment approach,” particularly impressive in a public asylum. With access to the airing courts, gardens, and facilities for entertainment and social engagement, the   Its oversight committee and its superintendents seem to have had the interests of its patients at heart, even when the growing numbers of patients was clearly becoming a problem as the century proceeded.  I have not yet been able to follow its fortunes beyond 1870, and I do wonder if, like so many contemporaries, it became swamped with the sheer volume of patients, and began to abandon its attempts to create an empathetic and socializing environment.  That’s a project for another time.

There are several other lines of potential investigation, with many more avenues to pursue, covering a much longer timespan than the sixteen years of 1854-1870 covered here, and there is a lot of work to be done on this very important topic to understand mental healthcare in the 19th century and more recent periods in the Cheshire and neighbouring areas.  It would be lovely to see something like the Staffordshire’s Asylums Project set up for Chester.

 

Final Comments on parts 1 and 2

Cheshire Lunatic Asylum water tower, now on Frost Drive, in the middle of a modern housing estate

It has been an absolute voyage of discovery to learn about the development of lunatic asylums in England and Wales, and often thoroughly hair-raising.  The notoriously punitive asylums of the late 17th and early 18th century became more regulated, and reformist asylum owners introduced new “moral treatment” approaches that were far more empathetic, attempting to work towards cures.  Many of these approaches were incorporated into public asylums, and as early as 1853 the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum had abandoned the use of physical restraints, in accordance with new rules.  These approaches acknowledged that there was no cure-all solution, and that different symptoms required flexibility towards the provision of a range of treatments.

It still seems remarkable to me that as I was reading all the standard texts, as well as first-hand 19th century accounts about lunatic asylums, both public and private, the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum is almost never mentioned under any of its alternative names.  The first thing I do when I get hold of a new book is flip to the index, or if it is a paper saved as a PDF, do a word search, but Chester is almost never mentioned. It seems to have fallen between the cracks in the history of 19th century lunatic asylums, which strikes me as somewhat peculiar.  As a vast county lunatic asylum for paupers, growing every year, and battling to maintain standards with ambitions to restore its patients to society, it seems to have been something of a pioneer.  And yet it is almost never mentioned.

Page 487 from Conolly’s 1830 “An inquiry concerning the indications of insanity : with suggestions of the
better protection and care of the insane”

Reading the original texts of people like Samuel Tuke (1811), John Conolly (specifically his 1830 thoughts) and Robert Gardiner Hill (1838) and even the later reports for the Chester asylum, there is a sense of a brave new world, an innovation of care for the mentally unwell, and a profound interest in helping those who were suffering to find a route back to a conventional and peaceful life. The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum under Dr Nadauld Brushfield was a part of that trend to find answers and help rather than subjugate the mentally ill.

With hindsight, the approaches that seemed so pioneering, the product of real humanity and social conscience, were limited in what they could achieve and they have come under some criticism today.  First, it is suggested that they suffered from a normalizing attitude, failing to differentiate for treatment purposes between multiple possible causes of insanity, whether medical or psychological, treating all forms of mental illness as though they would respond to a single homogeneous approach. These ethically driven asylums have also been accused by influential writers like Foucault of trying to use coercion and incarceration to impose strict behavioural norms as a form of social control to conform to middle class values of decorum and self-control, although this seems to miss the point that patients in many asylums were no longer treated as sub-human but were given the dignity of being treated as coherent, thinking participants in a community and were provided with an opportunity to learn how to re-integrate.  However not all mental afflictions could be approached with those treatments.  As more people entered asylums a significant problem seems to have been one of resources.  The empathetic approach of moral treatment became far more difficult to apply to even those for whom it may well have worked.  At the same time, there was a change of direction to begin categorizing different types of mental illness to make the task of looking for solutions, remedies and cures far more scientific.  It resulted in some truly shocking approaches, most of which have now been abandoned.

There is a sense running through the 16 years of the reports used here that the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, whilst experiencing problems due to overcrowding and occasional personnel issues, was a well-run and compassionate institution that suffered few suicide or escape attempts, and did its best to provide quality of life for its inmates.  Even so, care did not equate to cure and it is obvious that there was a long way to go before treatment was converted to remedies and solutions that endured.

Finally, the uncertainties regarding mental health today mean that the 19th century attempts to address these issues are all the more impressive, even when the challenges of implementation did not live up to what were often, although not always, very good intentions.  As I commented at the end of part 1, and since which time I have done a lot more reading on the subsequent 20th and 21st history of mental health, from the beginning of lunatic asylums governments have struggled to know how to cope with those suffering from mental illness.  Institutional care for patients suffering from mental illness is no longer a prominent feature of state responsibility, specialist institutions having been largely replaced by “care in the community” since the late 1980s when Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, responding to an Audit Commission report in 1986, made it a reality.  This potentially deprives the mentally ill from a sense of community and support that institutions dedicated to their care might provide. Some social scientists and sociologists like Andrew Scull argue that apart from a very few exceptions like syphilis and pellagra, absolutely no consensus exists even today on what causes mental illnesses or how to handle most forms of severe mental instability: “A penicillin for disorders of the mind or brain remains a chimera.”  Whilst medicine continues to make advances all the time, and in spite of the fact that “mental health” is now one of the most over-used terms in modern society, the treatment of mental illness is still in need of much more investment and resources.

 

Afterthought – coats of arms associated with the asylum

 

This is the emblem included on most of the Reports of the Committee of Visitors and Superintendent of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, and a version of it appears on the pediment of the 1829 building.  Both versions show the Chester coat of arms at the centre, showing the usual three wheat sheaves, but the mottos differ.

In the report version, the crowned coat of arms has the words “Honi Soit qui mal i pense” around the three sheafs, meaning “shame on anyone who thinks evil of it.”  The text on which the arms rest reads “Antiqui Colant Antiquum Dierum” meaning “Let The Ancients Worship the Ancient Days.”

Pediment of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum

On the pediment there is no text around the coat of arms, but beneath the motto on the pediment the text reads “Jure et dignitate gladii, a phrase often associated with the Chester coat of arms, meaning “by the right and dignity of the sword.” Sorry it’s a bit fuzzy – I took it with my smartphone when I was there for a jab!

Flanking the coat of arms in both examples are two dragons, each with wings and forked tails.  The dragons in the pediment only have two legs.  In  both versions each dragon holds a feather, the meaning of which eludes me, although I believe that this motif is usually associated with the Black Prince (Edward of Woodstock, son of Edward III, who had been invested with the earldom and county of Cheshire in 1333), and was later adopted by Henry VII.  If anyone can decipher this dragon-related symbolism for me, please get in touch!
xxx

Sources:

This second part of the piece on the Cheshire Archaeological Asylum depends almost completely on the annual Reports of the Committee of Visitors and Superintendent of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum Reports for the years 1854-1870.  Thankfully, the Wellcome Collection website has the digitized records of the Reports produced between and 1855 and 1871 (relating to the years 1854 to 1870), which have been digitized and are available for download free of charge.

All other sources are listed on a separate page because of its length, covering both parts of the post, updated at the time of posting part 2 here:
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/heritage/sources-for-cheshire-lunatic-asylum/

 

The rear of the 1829 Building as it is today

 

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