Category Archives: Conservation

Lecture: Rosemary’s Baby: Adventures and Insights from Contributing to the Corpus of Anglo-Saxon Stone Sculpture in England

Rosemary’s Baby: Adventures and Insights from Contributing to the Corpus of Anglo-Saxon Stone Sculpture in England

Paul Everson, Keele University

Tom Pickles, Chair of Chester Archaeological Society, introducing Paul Everson

On Saturday 4th May, in the last in-person Chester Archaeological Society lecture of the 2023/24 spring season in the Grosvenor Museum’s elegant lecture theatre, archaeologist and landscape historian Paul Everson introduced members and guests to the “Corpus of Anglo-Saxon Stone Sculpture (CASSS)”  project inaugurated in 1977 by Professor Dame Rosemary Cramp (https://corpus.awh.durham.ac.uk/).  With his long-time collaborator David Stocker, Mr Everson has published three volumes of the CASSS, and in this lecture explained how the decades-long project has not only provided us with a definitive catalogue of decorated stonework of the period but also stimulated new avenues of thought.

Professor Dame Rosemary Cramp’s name is synonymous with Early Medieval sculpture, combining her expertise in Old and Middle English with archaeological research, beginning her own excavations at Monkwearmouth in 1957.  Having identified an opportunity to create a corpus of early stone sculpture after working on examples in Durham Cathedral and the Wearmouth and Jarrow monastic sites, she developed a standardized format for the publication of the CASSS, and a “grammar” of Anglo-Saxon ornament (also used for knitting!). This enables each volume of the corpus to be used in the same way and, where required, directly compared, making the series invaluable as a cohesive research tool.  The first volume to be published was County Durham and Northumberland in 1984, and the last two, currently being compiled, are volumes 15, Leicester, Notrh Rutland and Soke Peterborough and volume 16, Norfolk and Suffolk.

Some examples of the types of Anglo-Saxon sculpture included in the Corpus (slide from Paul Everson’s presentation)

The corpus of Anglo-Saxon carvings, dating from the 7th to the 11th centuries and much of it previously unpublished, includes crosses, grave markers and grave covers, architectural detailing and inscriptions, both in original locations and in relocated positions. The compilation of the Corpus required the establishment of procedures for locating and recording both known and previously unidentified carvings. A mixture of archaeological, field survey and historical approaches are employed.  All churches in a Corpus volume area are inspected, inside and out.  Sketches, photographs, measurements and notes ensure that full details were recorded.  Lost items have been rediscovered by tracing records in publications produced by antiquarian and early scholars.  Antiquarian and early scholarship are always described and credited in the first chapter of each volume, reflecting their value.

As with most archaeological data, Anglo-Saxon sculptures often exist only in fragments and this requires virtual reconstruction work so that these too can be understood as whole pieces and included in the corpus.  It was interesting to note that, like Roman tombstones, the ornament was picked out in bright paints, exemplified by a replica from Neston which has been rendered in full colour, shown on the above slide.

Bringing to together substantial data across each area has led to an exploration distribution patterns, with some specific types distributed widely across a county and others being more localized, leading to a search for explanations  An example is Raunds Furnells where a small cluster of 10th century stone monuments may help to explain similar finds in east England, perhaps representing the founding families of churches, which in turn may represent the first stages of the development of the parochial system.  “Exceptional collections” also occur, where large numbers of sculptural stones are found in a particular location, and it has been found that these tend to be near river sites where markets were held, and where merchant communities with disposable incomes concentrated, such as Chester where an impressive collection is retained at St John’s Church, and at Neston on the Wirral.

The Hedda Stone, Peterborough Abbey

A surprising finding was that there may have been very little pre-Viking quarrying of new stone.  Instead, earlier stone masonry in church architecture and graves was often recycled and has become a much-debated topic.  Some of these re-uses are pragmatic and practical, making use of usefully shaped pieces.  The re-use of Roman masonry could explain, for example, some puzzling holes in the famous early Medieval Hedda Stone at Peterborough Cathedral.  Another form of recycling is described as “iconic,” where earlier scenes are appropriated and re-positioned in a new cultural context.  Interpretation of specific instances of recycling differ, and the resulting debates, although usually amicable, may be very animated! Discourse provided by differing perspectives, specialisms and sub-disciplines and by a new generation of researchers ensure that research into Anglo-Saxon sculpture continues to be a lively field.

At the other end of the chronological scale, studies of post-Conquest sculpture have helped to elucidate the continuity of earlier medieval traditions, and this too is an important research vector for understanding the period when Saxon and Norman interests vied for supremacy.

Making use of database technologies, an important leg of future work will include the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC)-funded “Worked in Stone” project which will re-digitize all the volumes to make them into a fully searchable database, an important new initiative that will be hosted by the Archaeological Data Service (ADS) and will be free to access.).

The challenges of interpreting different syncretic and iconic schemes. (slide from Paul Everson’s presentation)

An enthusiastic round of applause marked the end of the lecture.  There was the opportunity for questions, and the audience took full advantage.  The topic of recycled Roman stonework lead to some discussion about how identity and meaning may have been syncretized or replaced.  Another question concerned how future discoveries might be incorporated into the corpus, and although nothing formal yet exists, the topic is obviously on the minds of those looking to the future of this research area.  At the end of the questions the audience again applauded loudly in appreciation.

By the end of the lecture, it had become clear that the loss of Dame Rosemary last year at the age of 93, and the publication of the final two volumes of CASSS will not draw any sort of line under the research into Anglo-Saxon sculpture.  The Corpus continues to be provide an invaluable resource.  The digitization of the corpus will make it readily available to support a new generation of researchers as they develop new ideas and perspectives and explore new directions. It is clear that in spite of her passing away last year, this project remains very much “Rosemary’s Baby.”

The first twelve volumes of the CASSS are available online at https://corpus.awh.durham.ac.uk/.  For Anglo-Saxon stone sculpture in Cheshire see volume IX. For a paper produced as an offshoot of the corpus work, see the study of the social background of the St John’s (Chester) crosses in the Members Area of the CAS website (https://chesterarchaeolsoc.org.uk/members-area/): P Everson & D Stocker. Transactions on the Dee: the ‘exceptional’ collection of early sculpture from St John’s, Chester
In: Cambridge, E & Hawkes, J eds. Crossing boundaries: interdisciplinary approaches to the art, material culture, language and literature of the early medieval world. Essays presented to Professor Emeritus Richard N. Bailey, OBE, in honour of his eightieth birthday. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2017, 160–78.

Finally, the international ‘Worked in Stone: Early Medieval Sculpture in its International Context’ conference  takes place next year in Durham (https://corpus.awh.durham.ac.uk/wis.php).

Many thanks to Paul Everson for such am engaging and enlightening lecture.

Paul Everson in the Grosvenor Museum lecture theatre

The splendid Grade-1 listed Llangar Church, Cynwyd, near Corwen

The small Llangar Church is exceptional.  It is Grade-1 listed and a Scheduled Monument located in the Dee valley not far from Corwen. From its lovely lime-washed white walls and its small but well-filled churchyard to its painted interior and box pews, all set in the middle of a field, there is so much that is unexpected in Llangar Church. It has been subjected to detailed historical and archaeological research, and is accordingly much better understood than many other churches in north Wales.  This work, looking at over 500 years of use, means that there is far too much information to include here.  We were shown round by visitor guide Heather on the day, who was excellent, but there is not always a tour available, so the official Cadw guide book is certainly one way go to if you want a more informative account, with 18 pages dedicated to Llangar Church.  The survey and excavation report published in Archaeologia Cambrensis in 1981 (pages 64-132)  is the most detailed report available, and can be accessed online.  See Sources at the end of this post for both.

Visiting details and a map are at the end, but do note that this can be combined with a visit to the brightly painted 17th century Rhug Chapel, which is a 5-10 minute drive away, also on the map at the end (and about which I have posted here).

The meaning of the church’s name remains uncertain.  One interpretation suggests that it it can be translated as “Church of the White Deer,” whilst another suggestion is that it might refer to the name of a neighbouring Iron Age hillfort.  The Coflein website refers to it as “All Saints.”

Whatever the meaning of its name, the first documented evidence of it dates to 1291 and the church was probably founded earlier in the 13th century, serving local farms and the services that supported them.  It escaped the destructive attentions of the Reformation, and was used until 1856, when it was replaced by a new church in Cynwyd that was both bigger and far more conveniently located.  Although abandonment of the church, combined with its relatively inconvenient location, led to neglect, decay and damage, it fortunately escaped being plundered for building materials, and avoided the indignities of Victorian restoration work that usually augmented and remodelled what was found rather than merely preserving an architectural legacy.

It was not until the 1970s that conservation work accompanied by survey and research projects began to rescue the site and uncover some of its complex architectural and social history.  The church was not a time capsule of a single particular period, but a palimpsest of multiple periods.  This was a living, breathing community resource for over the 500 years, and as people and ideas changed, so did the church.  The Cadw analysis of the architectural development of the church identifies five main phases:  Medieval, Early 17th century, Mid to Late 17th century, early 18th century and later 18th and 19th centuries.  The scatter of painted and engraved dates through the church from the 17th century suggest that that this was a period when the church underwent a number of repairs and modifications.

The churchyard

The entrance to the churchyard is marked by an attractive and remarkably solid 18th century stone lych gate, with double wooden doors.  Like all lych gates it provided a shelter for coffin bearers and a place to rest the coffin bier until the service began, and also served as a formal entrance to the churchyard.  The slate roof has two tiers of decorative pointed tiles on the churchyard side.

The churchyard is on a slope.  To provide a flat surface on which to build the church, material was removed from the east and transferred to the west end.  The dangers of this scheme, leaving one end much more consolidated and compressed than the other, resulted in later structural problems on the north side (opposite the porch side) and at the west end.  Over the the decades, many of the headstones have started tilting downhill.

The cemetery has a particular charm all of its own, which is difficult to define but has something to do with the simplicity of the grave monuments, and the general absence of ostentation. The earliest of the monuments in the churchyard date to around 1600.  Chest tombs of the 17th and earlier 18th centuries cluster close to the church itself, whilst those further away were later.  These later graves were both chest tombs and graves marked by a headstone and footstone.  The cemetery went out of use in the 1870s, when the church was abandoned.  The church and churchyard, built into the side of a hill, are rather exposed and some of the inscriptions are very worn.  Interestingly, most of those graves before 1825 were inscribed in English, whereas later ones were largely in Welsh.

18th century

1821

1841

There is also a sundial base just beyond the church porch.

Llangar Church and churchyard showing the northwest corner, by the Dee, completely free of graves. Aerial view. Source: RCAHMW Coflein

In general the north side of a churchyard was the last to receive graves, either because it had previously been in use for community activities or because, being darker and colder, it was less attractive for visiting.  In the case of Llangar the northwest corner remained entirely free of burials right up to the moment of its abandonment, but this is probably because of problems with subsidence, a theory supported by various changes made to the church’s architecture to counter structural difficulties.

The church exterior

The guide book has a step by step tour of the exterior as revealed by the survey work.  It is a fascinating detective story over two pages, perfect for anyone doing a self-guided tour on a dry day.  The short version is that the south wall (porch side) dates to the Middle Ages, and the north wall was medieval but was modified over the centuries, with some windows blocked and others added. The north wall is now propped up by a modern retaining wall added during the renovation, but it is worth looking out for a top-to-bottom jagged line like a crack at the west end, which shows where structural work was carried out in the second half of the 17th century.  The west wall was rebuilt in the early 18th century.  The porch was added in the early 17th century, re-roofed in 1702, and the big ornamental window in the Perpendicular gothic style probably dates to around the same time.   

The interior

Visitors enter the church via the porch with two stone benches, probably dating to the early 17th century.  There is paintwork and various pieces of graffiti carved into wood and stone. Take note too of the noticeboard showing some of the restoration work.

As you walk in to the church, you are confronted with a fabulous red-painted life-sized skeleton representing Death, at gallery level on the opposite wall.  As a reminder that a church is the interface between the living and the dead, and that life is only a temporary condition before interment and Judgement Day, this can scarcely be beaten.  There are more details about this image below.

The ground floor is a single space with a floor covered in stone slabs and a small overhead gallery at the west end, which was probably used for the musicians.  There are no aisles or other architectural divisions.  The space beneath the gallery was clearly reserved for parts of the congregation that had the lowest status, at the furthest distance from the sacred east end, and was very dark and cramped beneath the low ceiling.

The earliest parts of the wooden beamed ceiling are thought to date to the 15th century, although timbers were replaced and repaired in subsequent centuries, and today most of them are modern, from the 1970s restoration.  The east end, traditionally the sacred end of a church, is marked by a “canopy of honour” dating to the late 15th or early 16th century, a barrel-shaped ceiling that would have shown sacred themes in paintings that have now been lost.  It is thought that they may have looked like those at St Benedict’s Church at Gyffin near Conwy showing the twelve apostles (its website is here, complete with a virtual tour).  

The only feature that would have furnished the church of the Middle Ages to survive is the simple font set into a niche, which has been moved from its original position, probably in the 18th century.  Most of the surviving fittings date to the early part of the 18th century.

From the 18th century, the public sat in the surviving box pews along the north wall and on backless bench pews on the south wall.  Four of the elegant box are dated 1711 (belonging to the Hughes family of Gwerclas, 1759, 1768 and 1841.  One preserves the initialse of one of its occupants.


Another pew, at the south side of the 18th century altar and dated 1841, was used by the rector’s family.  Opposite, on the other side of the altar, is a painted 18th century cupboard topped with a winged angel.  It is set into the north wall dating to the 18th century, with three keyholes, requiring three keyholders.    The altar itself dates to the 18th century but was built of 17th century wood.  The window above the altar is flanked by two panels, which between them show the Ten Commandments, in Welsh.  Originally the east end would also have housed a pulpit, but this was moved to part way along the south wall.  It is  a three-tiered pulpit, which was probably moved from the east end sometime after 1732 to allow the altar rail to be employed for the giving of the sacrament.

Like nearby 17th century Rhug, Llangar’s interior wall paintings escaped the whitewashing vigour of the Reformation, but unlike Rhug, the paintings represent different time periods, from the 14th to late 18th centuries. Some images were overpainted with new ones, and many are very faint.  One of the paintings has been removed to preserve it and is now in the exhibition area at Rhug Chapel.  The Cadw guide contains a full description of all of the paintings, by A.J. Parkinson, but here are some highlights.

 

North wall

Most of the images were intended to provide visual material to support sermons, which Parkinson refers to as “teaching aids.”  The fabulous skeleton is brandishing time’s arrow in one bony hand and a winged hour-glass in the other.  Between his legs are a shovel and pickaxe, tools of the gravedigger. He is dated tentatively to 1748, the death of rector Edward Samuel, who was a notable Welsh scholar and poet.  Looking to his left, on the front of the gallery, are some elegant yellow frames with floral motifs, containing texts that are now too faint to read, but may by Biblical.  

 

To the right of the skeleton, over the window, is the name of the rector in 1730, and to the right of this was the Royal Arms of the same period, now in the Rhug Chapel visitor centre.

The rest of the north wall above the box pulpits contains overlapping images, the earliest of which, possibly 14th century, is a bishop (very difficult to make out) in the doorway of a substantial and rather exotic church, the towers of which can be easily seen.

The red frame possibly dates to the 15th century and probably contained a narrative, such as the life of Christ, or scenes from the lives of saints.  Other decorations along the wall were painted over in the 18th century.

On the south wall are a series of morality-themed panels outlined in red, probably dating to the 15th century.  All are very faint.  Some of them show representations of the Seven Deadly Sins, in which each sin is personified and is shown riding an appropriate animal.  These are very difficult to make out, but are almost unique.  Jane Durrant’s reconstruction below shows what they may have looked like in the late medieval period (scanned from the Cadw guide book).

Cutaway reconstruction showing teh south wall panels as they may have looked in the 15th century. By Jane Durrant. Source: Cadw guide book by W. Nigel Yates (full details at end, p.28).

On the left is a stag, representing lechery, and on the right is a wild boar representing gluttony, two of the Seven Deadly Sins

The gallery with benches, at the west end, is reached by a flight of stone stairs. It probably housing the musicians and singers, retains a very unusual four-sided music stand.

Abandonment of the church

Llangar church with a temporary roof. Source: RCAHMW https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/93771/images

From the Middle Ages to the 19th Century populations changed, and parish boundaries often ceased to be representative of where people were concentrated and wanted to worship.  In the middle 19th century Llangar and Gwyddelwern were neighbouring parishes, but Llangar’s population did not exceed 251 people dotted around the parish, whereas Gwyddelwern’s population had reached 1,118, of which nearly half lived in Cynwyd, near to Llangar.  In 1853 the decision was made to redraw the parish boundaries so that Cynwyd was in the parish of Llangar, but at the same time it was also decided that a new church should be built at Cynwyd to replace the inconveniently located Llangar Church.  Llangar Church had gone out of use by the mid 1870s except for occasional burials.  Some abandoned buildings are robbed for their materials, but Llangar survived intact, although as its roof deteriorated, so the rest of it came under threat.

Restoration

Noticeboard in the church porch

The importance of Llangar was recognized in the 1960s, and it was taken into care by the Welsh Office in 1967.  Restoration work began in 1974.  There is a noticeboard in the porch of the church showing some of the restoration work, as well as on the Coflein website.  Amongst many other restoration activities, one of the big structural changes accomplished during the restoration was the addition of a retaining wall on the outside of the original wall on the eastern end of the north side.  This should continue to stabilize the church to secure its future.  The roof was largely rebuilt, and most of the interior required conservation work.  Survey work, involving a number of different specialists, began to reveal the history of the church and churchyard.

Final Comments

More than any other church that I have visited in recent years, Llangar provides a sense of a place of social congregation.  This was off the beaten track, even for rural people who came from their farms and forges to attend the Sunday service.  Many of them will have met at market, but a sense of real community probably only developed on the back of the weekly congregation, which was a social as well as a religious activity, attended by entire families.   The paintings on the walls, changing over time to suit different needs, helped to involve the congregation in the Christian narrative, surrounding them with key messages and providing them with a sense of context.  The painting here was not merely decorative, like Rhug, but invested with shared articles of faith.  It is a small place, but it has a real impact.

Visiting

Source: Google Maps (with my annotations).  Llangar Church is at the bottom of the map, Rhug at the top.

Before setting out, it is vital to check the website, because the church is open only on certain days of the month in the spring and summer, and is closed during autumn and winter.  Do note that opening times are timed to coincide with those of nearby Rhug Chapel, so you can do both at the same time. https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/llangar-old-parish-church

Llangar Church and its churchyard are located in the Dee valley in a field just off the B4401, a well-used tourist route to the eastern side of Lake Tegid (sometimes referred to as Lake Bala).

Map sourced from the Coflein website with my annotations

There is a large lay-by opposite the farm track that gives access to the church.  The church is sign-posted, but when I was there the sign was hidden by tree branches.  There is a small post box on a pole next to the farm track that leads to the church, and a sign on the open gate for Station Cottage.  The track leads downhill for a minute or two, past farm buildings on the left. The road goes hard right and then hard left.  At the left turning, there is a gate on the right hand side (with a sign to its left saying Guide Dogs Only) that takes the visitor across a field, complete with mud and cow-pats, through a small gate on to a grassy footpath flanked by upright slates.  This leads to the lych gate and the churchyard beyond.

For those taking unwilling legs into account, although it is only about 5-10 minutes from car to lych gate this is very slippery underfoot after rainfall, meaning that this would almost certainly be better approached during a dry period.  Part of the graveyard is on a steep slope, which would make exploring it challenging, and there are steps up to the gallery within the church, but otherwise there should be no difficulties.

If you want to get the most out of the visit, the guide book is very helpful (see Sources below), covering both Llangar Church and Rhug Chapel as well as Gwydir Uchaf Church near Betws-y-Coed, which I have not yet visited, but looks fabulous.  The guide book is particularly strong on Llangar Church.  It can be purchased at Rhug Chapel, or ordered online from the usual sources.

If you plan to include a walk in your visit, the farm track from the road leads to a public footpath that runs along the disused railway track, which a couple who had arrived early recommended.  There are many good walks in the Corwen area, some of which are detailed in an excellent leaflet, which can be downloaded here as a PDF.

Sources:

Books and papers

Parkinson, A.J. 1993. The Wall Paintings. In Yates, N.W. Rug Chapel, Llangar Church, Gwydir Uchaf Chapel. Cadw, p.37-39.

Yates, N.W. 1993. Rug Chapel, Llangar Church, Gwydir Uchaf Chapel. Cadw

Additional reading:

Shoesmith, Ron 1981.
Llangar Church. Archaeologia Cambrensis vol.129, January 1981, p.64-69
https://journals.library.wales/view/4718179/4748029/87#?xywh=-163%2C-2%2C2584%2C3638
Llangar Church. The Graveyard Survey

Archaeologia Cambrensis vol.129, January 1981, p.70-132
https://journals.library.wales/view/4718179/4748029/93#?xywh=-169%2C-8%2C2584%2C3638

Although I haven’t yet managed to get hold of it Heather, the Cadw visitor guide, also recommended R. Suggett’s Painted Temples: Wallpaintings and Rood-screens in Welsh Churches, 1200–1800. RCAHMW 2021.

Another book that I haven’t yet seen, to which Peter Carrington alerted me, is Archaeologies and Antiquaries: Essays by Dai Morgan Evans edited by Howard Williams, Kara Critchell and Sheena Evans. Archaeopress 2022, which has four chapters dedicated to Llangar.
https://www.archaeopress.com/Archaeopress/Products/9781803271583

Websites

Coflein
All Saints Church, Llangar
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/93771/
All Saints Church, Llangar, Images
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/93771/images

National Churches Trust
St John the Evangelist, Cynwyd
https://www.nationalchurchestrust.org/church/st-john-evangelist-cynwyd

Day trip: Flint Castle – Edward I’s first permanent Welsh foothold

Northwest “garrison” tower at far left, with the big detached southeast “Great” tower in the middle and the northeast “Eagle” tower at far right.  Out of sight, opposite the Great Tower, is the southwest “Prison” tower

A visit to Flint Castle is not really a day trip if your starting point is the Chester-Wrexham area because it’s only about half an hour away, but because we started out quite late, and decided to combine it with a visit to Basingwerk Abbey in Holywell (a 10 minute drive from Flint), and had a long, lazy coffee in the sun, it did turn into something of a day trip.  If you are into fascinating ruins, I recommend both Flint Castle and Basingwerk, particularly as they are such a short distance from one another and overlap chronologically.  Basingwerk Abbey was founded in 1132 and closed in 1535, so its inhabitants would have seen the first construction of Flint Castle.  I’ll be talking about Basingwerk on another occasion.

As Edward began his castle building extravaganza, Llywelyn at last paid homage to the king of England, sitting to the left of the king’s throne, with Alexander of Scotland at the king’s right.

I have already posted the background story to Edward I’s castle building programme in northeast Wales, describing how different generations of Llywelyn the Great’s descendants clashed with England and the Marcher lords in a fight for territory and prestige in Wales.  I have not repeated any of that here, so if you would like the background information, do have a look at my earlier post.

Flint Castle is right on edge of the river Dee estuary, with beautiful  views across to the Wirral, and even though it is on the edge of a busy town with somewhat chaotic traffic, the castle itself is set back from a quiet housing area and stands apart even from that.  Although the river has silted up in front of the castle today, when it was built, the river flowed up to the castle itself.  It has a sense of isolation and peace about it and is a lovely place to visit, and can be combined with sections of the Wales Coast Path.  See my notes about visiting the castle at the end of the post, together with maps.

The Who, When and Why of Flint Castle

Artist reconstruction of the southeast and northeast towers of Flint Castle by A. Hook. Source: Ancient and Medieval Architecture

When Henry III died in 1272, Edward was on his way home from an underwhelming crusade, having narrowly survived an assassination attempt, and he took his time to return to England.  He was not crowned until 1274.

Henry III and Edward had been troubled throughout Henry’s reign with rebellions in Wales, masterminded by Llywelyn ap Gruffud, known as Llywelyn the Last.  Several treaties had failed to achieve long term peace, and although the Treaty of Montgomery of 1267 looked as though it might hold, Llywelyn ap Gruffud was labelled an outlaw in 1276, and war was declared in 1277.  A peace was brokered, but although Edward had every reason to believe that the treaty might secure peace between England and Wales, he began to build a series of castles in northeast Wales, beginning at Flint in 1277 and rolling out along the coastlines throughout the next two decades.

Why here? The location of Flint Castle

Strategic importance of the castle

View down the Dee estuary towards Chester showing Flint Castle in the foreground. The build-up of marshland is a recent phenomenon. In the 13th century, the castle was right on the edge of the river, accessible by boat.  Source: Coflein

The unoccupied site for Flint Castle was chosen for its excellent views for miles around, and the slab of bedrock on the edge of the estuary, on which the castle would be built.  Although the castle was sited on a floodplain rather than on a more traditional hill, its location on the Dee floodplain still provided clear lines of sight in all directions.  It would be impossible to sneak up on Flint Castle unless it was foggy.  With tall towers on all four corners, any approach by land or water would be easy to spot, and the town that Edward had planned from the beginning sat on the landward side of the castle, preventing any large-scale onslaught from going unnoticed.

Map of the Welsh Cantrefi showing the location of Flint Castle. Source: Wikipedia.

Although Flint was in English hands in the heart of Llywelyn’s former territory, it was only a day’s march from Chester, one of the great earldoms along the Welsh border.  The castle could be supplied with food and other essentials from Chester by boat, and the estuary provided a potential, although not terribly reliable route of escape, should it be needed.  In addition, a small garrison was maintained at Ness on the Wirral, opposite the site of Flint Castle. When the tide was out, the river between Flint and Ness could be forded.  Most importantly, Flint Castle was a stepping stone into Wales, allowing Edward to build his series of castles one day’s march from one another.  This simple linear network, which could be supported by the sea, began to enclose Gwynedd, particularly as Edward and his magnates began to repair or rebuild Welsh castles that they had defeated.

Castles under siege were always at risk from running out of supplies, but the potential of being restocked from the sea was one form of additional security, and the castle had two wells, one in the centre of the inner ward, and one in the detached southeast tower.

Economic potential of the area

Flint Castle northwest corner

Although Flint Castle was a military installation, Edward intended for it to have a town accompanying it, to take advantage of the area’s natural resources.  A new town would need to attract inhabitants, and as well as incentives, the land itself would need to be able to support the town.

Although there was no settlement at Flint, which was named by either Edward or one of his entourage, it would be wrong to think of the land along the estuary as deserted when the castle was first thought up in 1277.  As far back as the Domseday survey of 1086 the nearby hamlet Atis Cross had a church, a corn mill and a a hide of land, something in the range of 120 acres, belonging to Hugh Lupus of Chester, and there was a lead smelting works here.  Nearby Coleshill (Cwynsyllt) was also mentioned in the Domesday book, and Hen Blâs motte and bailey castle at Bagillt, just over a mile away, which lies within the township of Coleshill Fawr, may have served as the llys (court) for the commote of Coleshill.  Archaeological excavations in the mid 1950s concluded that the castle was replaced by a fortified manor house in the early 13th century, which was in turn abandoned in the late 14th century.  In 1132 the abbey of Basingwerk was built here, and in the 13th century it had water mills and a nearby windmill.  This was potentially a prime area for water mills, as water dropped at speed from the hills towards the Dee, ideal for turning water wheels for processing grain or sheep’s wool.  The area was also suitable for agrarian development, sharing with Anglesey a lowland, fertile location that could be cleared for fields and farmed.

The designer and the design 

1919 plan of the castle grounds that were passed into state care, showing all four towers, the inner keep, the well and the remains of the connecting walls.  Only part of the outer keep is preserved.  The same area  remains under Cadw guardianship today. Source: Coflein

Although much of the castle was deliberately torn down following the civil war in the 16th century to prevent re-use, many of the key features are still visible on the ground.  Castle architecture has some basic requirements that are shared by all castles, but Flint itself showed a number of innovations that make it stand out today. Most of Edward I’s castles in Wales were designed primarily by Master James of St George, but Flint Castle was the brainchild of Richard L’Engenour (d.1315), a wealthy resident of Chester, an architect, master mason and military engineer, the owner of three farms in the Chester area, who in 1304 became Mayor of Chester.  It is probable that Edward’s input is reflected in features of the castle that resemble the castle of Aigues-Mort from which Edward left on crusade in 1270.

The wide open site placed few constraints on its designers and builders.  The castle has a number of notable features, including a double moat and the massive offset donjon, that were innovations in British castle building.  Although Flint began with the castle, a town was always part of Edward’s plan for Flint, so the layout of castle and town were conceived of together.

The castle comprised an inner ward (or bailey) and an outer ward, separated by a moat and drawbridge.  The outer ward protected the main gate into the castle and acted as an interface between the inner ward and the outside world.  It was shaped rather like a funnel, allowing access via a single gatehouse into what was effectively a holding area, narrowing into a path that connected it to a gate into the inner ward, which was overseen by the battlements and by the southwest and southeast towers.  It would have had buildings to house and feed troops stationed there, together with stables for horses and a gaol for holding prisoners.

The rectangular inner ward was made up of round towers built into the walls on three corners, and a detached round tower on the south-eastern corner.  Sturdy curtain walling connected all four towers, with the detached tower joined to the inner keep by a footbridge.  Some foundations remain within the inner ward, plus the all-important well.  On the day that I visited in mid June, the water of the well in the inner ward was clearly visible at about 5ft (152cm) below the ground surface.  Buildings within the inner keep would have included a bakehouse, brewhouse, kitchen, chapel and a hall.  Both wells, the one in the inner ward and the one in the donjon, were fed by the freshwater Swinchiard Brook.  Uniquely, the castle had two moats.  An inner moat protected the main castle and an outer moat protecting access from the town.

The southwest tower and a stretch of the curtain wall.

Each of the towers was different.  Although all had spiral staircases leading to battlements for defence, each had its own function.  The southwest tower is, according to Vicky Perfect, recorded in the payroll as the Prison Tower, so may have served as a gaol before a more formal building was added to the outer ward.  It originally had three storeys.  The basement, where prisoners were presumably held, had no steps, which would certainly have frustrated attempts at escape.  The northwest tower, also known as the Garrison Tower, had four points of access, which was useful for deploying troops to the battlements in a hurry, and its basement was probably the store for weaponry.  The northeast, Eagle Tower, was three storeys high, with a basement that was accessed via a trapdoor.  Guests and servants were housed here, and there was a fireplace on the second floor with a chimney up on to the battlements.  A spiral staircase ran up one side.  The potentially standalone southeast Great Tower (also known as the castle keep or donjon), is of particular interest.  Its isolation from the rest of the castle was an additional form of security against any successful incursion, accessible only via a drawbridge, now replaced by a permanent bridge. Sitting within its own portion of moat, it is unique in Britain.  It is a truly massive piece of architecture, about 20ms in diameter, was accessible only on the drawbridge, and contained a central space some 6m diameter.  It was several storeys high.

Southeast Great Tower, donjon or keep.  In the centre and on the right, images sourced from Coflein

The donjon or southeast Great Tower

On an everyday basis the Great Tower was the home of the Constable, but also housed the king’s chamber, which was completed in 1286.  The walls of the keep were 7 meters thick at ground floor level, but were still 5 meters thick at upper levels.  To add to its independence from the rest of the castle, and to provide the king with some privacy when he was in residence, it was provided by its own well.  Holes in the floors above it allowed water to be drawn rather than carried, and a wooden wheel was fitted to raise and lower the pail.  It was also provided with garderobes (toilets) and its own chapel.  Its basement, shown right, had a barrel-vaulted ceiling, limewashed to provide reflective light, but also illuminated by torches.  At times of siege, livestock could be moved into the tower to provide supplies on the hoof.

A watergate was built into the north wall, with steps down to the river frontage.   This was for loading and unloading boats directly into the castle.  A smaller watergate was also built into the donjon, again reflecting its design as a standalone unit.

Building the castle 

The first stage in the construction of the castle was to clear an overland route to Chester.  Although the castle could be supplied by boat, there was no road to Flint from Chester. The tidal character of the river meant that the castle could only be reached at high tides, so an overland route was vital.  More immediately Edward was unwilling to run the risk of penetrating the alien countryside where he could be attacked by those with superior local knowledge.  The road allowed him to travel with realistic protection to his new castle, and to enable his army advance unhindered along the Welsh coastline. A road was carved out of the densely vegetated coastal landscape.  It took 10 days to clear the route to Flint, and from there the castle was linked with routes to Rhuddlan, Degannwy and eventually to Conwy.

The next step was to dig a deep ditch around the chosen site at Flint to protect builders and visitors alike, which took three weeks.  The castle was to be built on bedrock, which gave it a solid base on the otherwise soft floodplain.

View from Flint Castle across the estuary and the River Dee to the Wirral

Wood for scaffolding, lifting equipment and for the defences that would surround the planned town was sourced mainly from the Forest of Toxteth (now part of Liverpool).  The walls of the castle were built mainly of sandstone, much of which was sourced from Ness on the Wirral, opposite, across the estuary.  Ness could be reached over the sands when the tide was out by fording the river, but stone could also be brought in by boat.  Edward kept a small garrison at Ness.  Other sandstone was available locally, along with other natural resources including lead ore, lime for mortar and white limewash for walls (both lead and lime available from Halkyn Mountain).  Both yellow and red sandstones were employed for the outer walls, with the inner space between them filled with rubble, including stones from the beach and broken building materials.

Many of the original payrolls for the construction of the castle have survived, meaning that details of names, home towns, job roles, and salaries of the workers who built the castle have survived.  Just as the king could demand that his noble subjects should provide men for his armies, he could assemble workforces of specialist craftsmen from across England, whether they wanted to go or not.  The building site and the craftsmen were protected by armed forces. This formula worked so well at Flint that the same model, and many of the same craftsmen, were used at the subsequent castles.  Here’s Vicky Perfect’s description of the first weeks of work in the summer of 1277:

The workforces were placed under the control of various knights, and split into groups under their twenty men (foremen). . . . In week one of the the build a total of 1858 men were involved in the first stage of the building of the castle.  Most were dykers who were required to help prevent the water from filling in the newly dug foundations.  The first order of 10,000 sandstone blocks was placed at the quarry of Ness prior to 25th July 1277.  Large numbers of carpenters and wood cutters were employed, some working in the forest s at Toxteth cutting the timber and building the 250 rafts needed to transport the stone across the water.  Many others were working on site, constructing the stockade required to keep the men safe and making the lifting machinery to move the sandstone blocks into place.  There were also numerous masons, working the stones delivered from Ness Quarry.  Smiths were employed to make and mend the metal tools required for the project.

By week two, the workforce had increased dramatically to 2,911, indicating the urgency of making the site safe.  More specialist workers were brought to the site, such as Carbonarii (miners) to mine the coal to fuel the smith’s fires.  The number of dykers working on the site doubled, including a group from Holland.

The well in the Great Tower.

The rest of that chapter is worth reading in its entirety, providing some fascinating facts and figures including lists of some of the workers, their trade, the number of them employed and how much they were paid.  For example, in the first two weeks, the castle employed dykers, smiths, carpenters, masons, woodcutters, miners, cinder carriers, masons and constables, paid from 2d to 8d a day, the latter reserved for the specialist Dutch dykers.  Other specialists were brought in as work progressed.  John le Blund, for example, was brought from London and paid 19 shillings for dressing stones for the well in the Great Tower.

The castle was not completed until the mid 1280s, by which time it had been painted with  white limewash, and the towers, which had been provided with temporary roofs of thatch, were now provided with lead roofing.  In 1302, following storm damage, lime was brought to repair the castle walls.  In 1304, wood from Ewloe produced 60 boards, 12,000 pieces of wood for tiling, 1000 lathes and four louvres for repairs so kitchen and stabling.

The town

John Speed early 17th century map of Flint. Source: Coflein. Click to enlarge.

An accompanying town, (or “implanted bastide”) was part of Edward’s original plan for the castle.  The idea of establishing defended new towns around castles in hostile territory came from Gascony, where Edward had already founded a number of new defended towns.  Pioneer settlers were granted considerable commercial privileges as incentives, and were expected to help defend the town should it come under attack.  These new towns reinforced the network of castles with economic as well as military foundations, and the enclaves of English commerce also introduced English urban traditions within rural Wales.  Flint and Rhuddlan were two of the earliest examples. 

Writing in 1924, Patrick Abercrombie commented that “There is no town in this country that is of greater interest to the student of Town Planning than Flint. Laid out by Edward I, in 1277 as an appendage to his mighty castle, it has preserved its mediaeval plan almost intact. Like most artificially planted communities, there was no fundamental human need in this place for a town, which accordingly grown in the past little beyond its original size.”  It is a fascinating idea that new towns, built from scratch, arrived with the Normans.  According to Francis Pryor, a total of 172 of these towns are known in England and 84 in Wales, and Edward was the “last great instigator” of the new towns.  As well as the layout of the towns, functional considerations were also important, and Edward believed that to support markets, good road links were vital.  Communications became one of his mantras, vital for a peripatetic king and court, but also for the movement of troops and the commercial viability of new settlements. 

Excavations in 2015 explored what are thought to be part of the town’s defences. Source: BBC News

An indication that the beginnings of the town, which  were already established by early in 1278, was a proclamation of a weekly market each Thursday and an annual fair.  Edward decreed that the burgesses of Flint should hold a market on Thursday of each week, and an annual week-long fair at the time of the Pentecost (50 days after Easter Sunday).  The castle constable was to serve as mayor, one of Edward’s own brothers was installed as chaplain at the castle, and agents were appointed to rent out plots of land to any pioneering English inhabitants who were prepared to chance their luck even though the defences were incomplete.  To encourage take-up, in 1282 these agents offered plots in the town free of rental for ten years, followed by a reduced rate in subsequent years, and residents came under English, rather than Welsh jurisdiction.  Burgesses (property-owning merchants) were exempt from the payment of tolls. In 1284 the town received its first royal charter, which conferred full English-style free borough privileges.  The settlers had their own guild and courts.  Conveyances of property suggest that many of the settlers were from Cheshire, who took advantage of the provision of land in the royal demesne and forests.  Others probably came from Shropshire.  A town mill was constructed, and permission was granted for another, which incurred an annual rate of ten pounds. Even with these benefits, it was obviously an uphill struggle to attract residents at first, in spite of the fact that by 1300 much available land in England was in use and the expansion of population during the 13th century meant that it was becoming increasingly difficult to find land.   By 1292, however, the town had taken off and there were 74 burgesses registered for tax in Flint.

The main source of information for the town’s layout is John Speed’s sketch of 1610, shown above.  The Norman new towns were built as grids.  The maps show that Flint still preserved its Medieval layout, and that it was one of the most symmetrical known, with a very precise underlying geometry.  Four parallel roads ran perpendicular to the river, whilst Edward’s coastal road passed through the middle of the town parallel to the river.  Whether the dog-leg was original or developed between the 1280s and Speed’s map of 1610 is unknown.  One of the four parallel roads, along the route of modern Church Street, connects the entrance to the town with the entrance to the outer ward, passing in front of the Church of St Mary’s and the town square.

Tithe map of Flint area, showing the original Medieval field systems. Flint castle is handily under the left-hand red blotch, and the grid layout of the town is easily seen, as are the neatly arranged fields.  Source: People’s Collection Wales

The economy of most of north Wales was based on livestock herding. Nearby Basingwerk Abbey depended for some of its locally derived income on its 53 heads of cattle and its 2000-strong herd sheep.  However, some lowland areas could be developed for mixed farming.  Anglesey was “the bread basket of Wales,” and the river lowlands at Flint were potentially ideal for agrarian land use.  In order for agriculture to underpin the activities of the settlers at Flint, clearance of neighbouring land took place to create new fields, the outlines of which survive, remarkably, on the 1839  tithe map, shown above.  This shows Flint town’s four parallel roads immediately in front of the castle, but extended on either side beyond the bissecting coast road.   The surrounding land is similarly divided up on a grid pattern of long, thin fields.  Although residential, commercial and industrial growth have obliterated much of this, some of it still survives to the south of Flint town.

Access from the outer ward into the inner ward

Writing about the design of Flint Castle’s town, Caroline Shillaber concludes that “Viewed in historical perspective, Edward I appears as the forerunner of British planners who regard the creation of new towns as a function of national government, who locate and plan the towns to serve an overall administrative policy, who lay out the towns  in accordance with the needs of the people, and who devise economic conditions conducive to their growth and development.”  Some areas were riskier than others, however, as the settlers in Flint discovered in 1294 when renewed hostilities between England and Wales resulted in the town being burned to the ground.  Even though residents received compensation and the town was rebuilt, it must have been a daunting thought to stay in a town where its supposed protectors were willing to burn it down if the need presented itself.

A tax assessment of the town had been made in 1293, naming residents like Adam the carter, Benedict the miner, Godfrey the carpenter and Nicholas the smith.  The assessment recorded 76 households.  Only five of those named were Welsh, like Madog ap Iorwerth and Einion Cragh, indicating that even in an English enfranchisement Welsh people held property.  Things changed after the town was burned down after 1294, perhaps due to bad feeling about the devastation of the town thanks to Welsh hostilities.  This is reflected in a petition of 1297, written when the town was still being rebuilt.  The English burgesses of Flint complained that in an English town, Welsh individuals had “bought land in the town and bake and brew, contrary to their charter and custom,” although there was actually nothing in the 1284 town charter to restrict the nationality of residents. 

Matthew Stevens gives an account of an Englishman named Richard Slepe who had been in Flint town from its inception, and had remained after the town had been burned down.  His daughter Agnes had married a Welsh man, Adda ap Einion.  When Richard died in 1327, Agnes and her husband inherited Richard’s properties, but because Adda was Welsh, they were confiscated by local officials.  They appealed the decision but were turned down.  Enfranchised Welsh towns, occupied by the English, made no concessions to a mixed-nationality marriage, a situation that continued until the 1536 Act of Union giving Welsh nationals equal rights to English.  

The castle under attack during the reign of Edward I

In March 1282 Llywelyn’s brother Daffyd launched a ferocious assault on Hawarden Castle, and this was followed by further attacks on Flint and Rhuddland castles, in which Llywelyn appears to have participated.  Attempts by Archbishop Pecham to negotiate a peace failed, and Edward through everything he had at the brothers, as described on my previous post.  Llywelyn was killed in battle in December 1282, and Dafydd was captured and put to death the following year.  The Flint area, including Basingwerk Abbey, was trampled underfoot, but Basingwerk was given significant compensation and Flint Castle was repaired and construction work completed by 1284.

As mentioned above, in September 1294, those who had been lured to settle in Flint met the dangers of living in the shadow of a strategic military facility head-on when the constable of the castle, William de la Leye, ordered that the town be set on fire to prevent forces led by Madog ap Llywelyn from using it as a protective screen.  Madog ap Llywelyn, one of Llywelyn the Last’s more remote cousins, considered himself to be a successor of Llywelyn and made a bid for power, supported by other Welsh landowners.  Some of them joined Madog on an opportunistic basis, with territorial claims in mind, but all of those who retaliated at this time acted in response to a massive tax demand, and a culling of Welsh men to supply troops for his activities in Gascony. Attacks were co-ordinated and took place at castles both built and appropriated by Edward, at Aberystwyth, Builth, Castell-y-Bere, Denbigh, Criccieth, Harlech, Caernarfon, Morlais, Flint and Rhuddlan.  It was a serious rebellion, and it demanded a serious response.  Edward immediately diverted the troops waiting to ship out to Gascony, sending them instead to Wales, where they advanced from three bases. Madog’s revolt was put down after some delay in March 1295, with Madog surrendering in July.  Edward compensated seventy five burgesses with £521.00, and the buildings were all re-built, but life next to a strategic outpost of an invading nation cannot have been particularly reassuring.  

View along the Dee towards the west from the inner ward

Edward I died in July 1307 at the age of 68 and was succeeded by his son Edward II (April 1284 – September 1327), who had been declared Prince of Wales in 1301.  Edward’s reign was colossally unpopular and he was forced to abdicate in January 1327 in favour of his 14-year-old son, Edward III. Following the quashing of the rebellion of Madog, North  Wales remained more or less at peace until the rebellion of Owain Glyndŵr under the reign of Henry IV in 1400.  Flint Castle continued to be strategically important, and retained a garrison.  The town, protected by the castle, was a financial and administrative centre during the 14th and 15th centuries, meaning that even in times of peace the castle retained its importance and was accordingly well maintained.  Future archaeological excavations may provide information about the original town, both before and after the fire.

Back in the wars after Edward I

Richard II 

Richard II at his coronation. Source: Wikipedia

In terms of great events after Edward, Flint Castle’s next claim to fame was as the venue for the abdication of Richard II (1367-1400) in favour of Henry Bolingbroke, who became Henry IV.  Richard II was the grandson of Edward III, and on the death of his own father, Edward the Black Prince, became heir to the throne, succeeding in 1377 at the age of 10.  He was deposed in 1399.  Flint Castle itself had had nothing to do with Richard II’s career up until that point.  Richard’s regency was managed by a number of councils.  One of his most important advisors was his uncle John of Gaunt. 

The regency councils saw England through the continuing eruptions of the Hundred Years War and the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, and Richard himself was forced to deal with a number of substantial disruptions, including the threat of invasion from France.  As he came into his own power, Richard’s mistrust for the aristocracy lead him to select both his friends and personal guard with care, causing discontent amongst the powerful aristocracy.  When a group of them took control of the government in 1387, refereed to as the Lords Appellant, Richard was able to reinstate himself, but punished the conspirators with exile or execution.  One of the exiled was his cousin Henry Bolingbroke, son of his advisor John of Gaunt. 

The coronation of Henry IV, from a 15th-century manuscript of Jean Froissart’s Chronicles. Source: Wikipedia

On the death of John of Gaunt, Richard denied Henry Bolingbroke his inheritance, and this was enough to push Henry to open rebellion, landing in Yorkshire in June 1399. Richard II seems to have been very unpopular, and it does not appear to have taken Henry a substantial amount of effort to depose his cousin.  While Richard was in Ireland, Henry moved south.  Richard landed in Wales in July 1399 and entered negotiations with the Earl of Northumberland before surrendering to Henry on 19th August at Flint Castle.  Shakespeare puts these words into Richard’s mouth (Act 3, scene 3):

Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I’ll give, and willing too;
For do we must what force will have us do.

Henry Bolingbroke, in Shakespeare’s version, shows all due reverence and offers the king dignity and reverence, but the reality is that Richard was forced to resign in exchange for his life and was forced follow behind Henry to London, where he was incarcerated in the Tower of London.


Owain Glydwr 

Northwest tower

In 1400, a wealthy and London-educated Welsh nobleman was the source of the final great rebellion.  Owain Glyndŵr was the descendent of Llywelyn the Great and the princes of Powys, Owain Glyndŵr (c.1359–c.1415), and had served as a soldier under Richard II revolted against King Henry IV of England, using guerrilla tactics and his knowledge of the terrain to inflict damage on English forces. As with Madog in 1294, his primary grievances were unfair taxation, land disputes, and systematic neglect by the English government.  Owain’s first move was to attack key English castles, including Flint, placing it under siege in 1403.  The burgesses retreated into the castle whilst the town was plundered, inflicting damage that again took substantial time to repair.  Owain inflicted a number of defeats on the English forces with the aid of foreign assistance, and for a few years controlled most of Wales.  He called a parliament in Machynlleth in mid Wales, which was also attended by foreign dignitaries, where he named himself Prince of Wales, presented his plans for an independent Wales, which included building two national universities and the reintroduction of the traditional Welsh legal system.  In the long term, however, even with foreign military aid Owain was unable to compete with England’s superior forces and the king began to regain control of Wales.  Owain Glyndŵr continued to be a thorn in England’s side until 1412, when he disappeared after escaping a siege at Harlech.  He became something of a folk hero and a powerful symbol of Welsh nationalism and heritage.


The English Civil War (1642-1651)

Colonel Roger Mostyn (c.1623-90)

When Charles I acceded to the throne in March 1625, he came into conflict with Parliament from very early in his reign.  Like Henry III, he believed that the king ruled by divine right, and this in turn meant that he was answerable only to God, and not to any earthly authority.  His marriage to a Catholic did not help his popularity.  Constant bickering over religion and funds for Charles’s various projects, none of which Parliament was willing to fund to the king’s satisfaction led to the deterioration of the relationship, and in 1642 the country was torn in two, when civil war broke out.

By this time Flint Castle had been abandoned and was in very poor condition.  It was still, however, located in an excellent strategic position and local landowner Roger Mostyn made the decision to repair the castle and install a garrison as a contribution the Royalist cause.  A useful store for supplies for Chester, the castle changed hands several times during the conflict.  Back under Roger Mostyn, Flint found itself under Parliamentarian siege on 1st June 1646 and held out for nearly three months until all supplies had been exhausted and the garrison under Roger Mostyn surrendered rather than starve.  Although the Parliamentarians allowed them to leave unharmed, they were taking no chances regarding the castle, which was immediately slighted (rendered unusable).

The king was defeated at Rowton Heath, south of Chester, on September 24th 1645.  John Taylor in A Short Relation of a Long Journey, which he wrote in the summer of 1652, painted a thoroughly gloomy picture:.

Surely war hath made it miserable; the sometimes famous castle… is now almost buried in its own ruins, and the town so spoiled that it may truly be said of it, that they never had any  market (in the memory of man). They have no sadler, taylor, weaver, brewer, baker, botcher, or button maker; they have not so much as a signe of an alehouse . . . and this (me thinks) is a pitiful description of a shire town.

Future archaeological excavations may provide information about the original town, both before and after the 1294 fire.

An object of artistic interest

J.M.W.Turner’s painting of Flint Castle. Source: williamturner.org

Although it’s life was over as a military installation, Flint Castle joined other nearby ruined castles and abbeys, like Beeston Castle in West Cheshire and Valle Crucis Abbey near Llangollen, as popular tourist destinations, which were also popular with artists.  The best known of these was J.W.W. Turner (1775-1851), who painted both of the previously mentioned sites, and created a typically atmospheric view of Flint Castle too.  It is fairly typical of Turner’s paintings of this period, produced in the 1830s.  It shows the main subject of Turner’s interest in the background, with contemporary activities in the foreground.  Rather than place his ruins centre stage, Turner usually placed them where they eye was drawn to them, but in much less detail than the activities taking place in his foregrounds.  The man on the right looks towards the castle.  The sun rises at the castle’s side.  A line of blue-grey along the horizon draws the eye from left to right, tying the composition together.  The castle’s silhouette contrasts spectacularly with the yellows, reds, oranges and golds of the rest of the composition.  Everything in the painting draws the eye away from the more detailed and busy foreground to the static silhouette of the the castle’s profile.  Both beautiful and clever.  This was not Turner’s only study of Flint Castle, but it is my favourite.

View of Flint Castle by Richard Reeve 1812. Source:

I also very much like Richard Reeve’s earlier, far more prosaic and much less virtuoso portrait of Flint Castle.  Painted in 1801, instead of Turner’s juxtaposition of past and present, it blends the two, showing everyday life in in harmony with the ruins.  In Reeve’s view, the castle, the the beached boats drawn up on the shore alongside, the cottages in the foreground and the horse and cart driving away all occupy the same time zone without difficulty.  The men pulling in the nets are so accustomed to the castle’s looming presence that it is a mere backdrop to their activities.

Although no-one of Turner’s luminary talent has been drawn to the castle since the 19th Century, probably because of its urban and industrial surroundings, plenty of artists and photographers continue to find inspiration from Flint Castle.

Flint Castle today

Today the castle is a tourist attraction managed by Cadw.  It is beautifully maintained and money has been lavished on creating staircases that give safe access to and within the towers.  The views from both the inner ward and the towers are superb.

There is not much in the way of explanatory signage.  If you want to be informed, it is best to do the reading in advance.  There is a Cadw guidebook that takes in Ewloe castle as well, but it is out of print and difficult to get hold of.  Former mayor of Flint Vicky Perfect has dedicated a small but excellent book to Flint Castle, which is very well researched and written, and includes photographs, illustrations and maps (details of both books are in Sources at the end).

Visiting

Map showing the location of Flint Castle relative to Chester and Holywell (Basingwerk Abbey, marked as “Abbey” at the top left of this map, on the coast at Holywell, can be combined with Flint Castle for a visit). Source: streetmap.co.uk

You have to watch carefully for the road signs directing you to the castle (little Celtic cross symbols) because they are easy to miss.  Alternatively, as we did, check it on the map first to get an idea of the location and then just rely on GPS (I use the free Google Maps app on my iPhone, which works a treat).  There is a good car park overlooking the castle and estuary, with picnic benches on the grass below.

Short walk taking in Flint Castle, and suitable for those with mobility issues, although accessing towers within the castle requires the ability to tackle staircases.  Even without entering the towers, the sense of the castle from within the inner keep is excellent, and the views from the inner keep across the estuary towards the Wirral are lovely.  Source: Flintshire County Council

Flint Castle itself is a bit of a mixed blessing for those with unreliable legs.  One of the best things about Flint Castle is that it is possible to walk up staircases (both original stone ones and bright, modern metal ones), some of which are quite steep.  Although access is on the flat into the outer and inner wards, and the views from the inner ward are lovely, it is difficult to really experience all the components of the castle unless you tackle some stairs.  On the other hand, the walk shown here (from the Flintshire County Council website) shows a walk that includes that castle but could easily be done for those with unwilling legs.

Access to the castle is free, but check the Flint Castle pages on the Cadw website to check if it is closed for certain seasons or specific dates.  The car park is also free of charge.  There was a mobile café van whilst we were there, but there are no other café type facilities on the site.  There is a nice café at Basingwerk Abbey in Holywell if you are combining the two on a single visit to the area.

A section of the Wales Coast, marked with green diamonds, heading west from Flint Castle (marked at left with a white cross on a blue background). Source: Wales Coast Path interactive map

If you like walking, the castle is handily located on the Wales Coast Path, and although the Welsh side of the Dee is characterized by light industry, the views from the Wales Coast Path are across the estuary towards the Wirral.  We’ve not yet done any of the Wales Coast Path in that part of Wales, but the views from the castle argues that it has lots of potential, and I am hoping for sea and marsh birds too.  I cannot state whether or not it is suitable for those with unwilling legs, but it does seem plausible, because it is all on the flat.
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1726 print of Flint Castle.  Source: Coflein

Sources

Books and papers

As usual, the main sources used are shown in bold.

Note:  Vicky Perfect’s book on the castle (listed below) is great guide to Flint Castle in one convenient publication, with excellent illustrations.  In particular, Chapter 3 “The Building of Flint Castle” makes excellent use of primary sources to provide a fascinating insight into the resources required, the techniques used and the men involved in the construction work (including details of some of their roles and daily pay).

Abercrombie, P. 1924.  Flint.  The Town Planning Review, Vol. 10, No. 4 (Feb., 1924), p.241-244
https://www.jstor.org/stable/40101411

Butlin, R.A. 1978. The Late Middle Ages, c.1350-1500.  In Dodgshon, R.A. and Butlin, R.A. (ed.) An Historical Geography of England and Wales.  Academic Press, p.119-150

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

Dyer, C. 2002.  Making a living in the Middle Ages.  The People of Britain 850-1520.  Yale University Press

Jack, R.I. 1988. H. Wales and the Marches. In Chapter 4, Farming Techniques in Hallam, H.E. (ed.) The Agrarian History of England and Wales, Volume II, 1042-1350. Cambridge University Press, p.412-496

Jenkins, G.H. 2007. A Concise History of Wales. Cambridge University Press

Hume, P. 2020. The Welsh Marcher Lordships. I: Central and North. Logaston Press

Morris, M. 2008. A Great and Terrible King. Edward I and the Forging of Britain. Penguin

Perfect, V. 2012. Flint Castle. The story of Edward I’s first Welsh castle. Alyn Books

Pryor, F.  2010. The Making of the British Landscape.  How we have transformed the land, from prehistory to today.  Allen Lane

Renn, D.F. and Avent, R. 2001 (2nd edition). Flint Castle – Ewloe Castle. Cadw

Rowley, T. 1986. The High Middle Ages, 1200-1500. Routledge and Kegan Paul

Saul, N. 1997. The Oxford Illustrated History of Medieval England. Oxford University Press

Shillaber, C. 1947. Edward I, Builder of Towns. Speculum, Vol. 22, No. 3 (Jul., 1947), p.297-309
https://www.jstor.org/stable/2856866

Stephenson, W. 2019. Medieval Wales c.1050-1332. Centuries of Ambiguity. University of Wales Press

Vening, T. 2012. The Kings and Queens of Wales. Amberley

Walker, D. 1990. Medieval Wales. Cambridge Medieval Textbooks


Websites

Ancient and Medieval Architecture
Flint – Castle (particularly useful for images) (Janusz Michalew)
https://medievalheritage.eu/en/main-page/heritage/wales/flint-castle/

BBC News
Historic Flint Castle defences found under block of flats. June 7th, 2015
https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-wales-north-east-wales-33032562
Flint Castle: History behind castle chosen for sculpture. By Matthew Frank Stevens (Senior Lecturer in History, Swansea University). 1st November 2019
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-50260758

Cadw
Flint Castle
https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/flint-castle
Flint.  Understanding Urban Character.
https://www.flintshire.gov.uk/en/PDFFiles/SHARP/Flint-Understanding-Urban-Character-(Cadw-2009).pdf

Clwyd Powys Archaeological Trust
Historic Settlement Survey – Flintshire
https://cpat.org.uk/ycom/flints/flint.pdf

Coflein
Site Record: Flint Castle (with some excellent image and plans)
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/94448/

Curious Clwyd
https://www.mythslegendsodditiesnorth-east-wales.co.uk/

Halkyn Mountain
https://www.halkynmountain.co.uk/

Wales Coast Path
Home page
https://www.walescoastpath.gov.uk/?lang=en
Interactive Coast Path Map
https://www.walescoastpath.gov.uk/plan-your-visit/interactive-coast-path-map/?lang=en#

 

 

Exhibition: “The Tailor’s Tale” at Tŷ Pawb gallery, Wrexham

Image source: Tŷ Pawb website, with original image © Amgueddfa Cymru (National Museum Wales). The giraffe is sublime, but the panther is bliss.

The Tailor’s Quilt, by James Williams. Click to see the larger, clearer image. Image source: Tŷ Pawb website, with original image © Amgueddfa Cymru (National Museum Wales).

The Tailor’s Tale exhibition, at the Tŷ Pawb gallery in Wrexham, is on until September 24th 2022.  It is a rare opportunity to see the mid-19th century “Tailor’s Quilt” without having to go to south Wales to see it in its usual home.  The exhibition is showing at the same time as the exhibition Blanket Coverage, in the same gallery, about which I have already written here.

The Tailor’s Quilt was made by master military tailor James Williams of Wrexham (c.1818 – 1895). It is on loan from the St Fagan’s National Museum of History in Cardiff.  The museum bought it in 1935 from Williams’s grandson during the economic depression, where it joined a national folk art collection, which now has over 200 examples of Welsh quilting and patchworks.   

As well as the quilt itself, which is a complete joy, the exhibition features modern art works, including designer clothing and accessories by Sarah Burton (fashion house Alexander McQueen) and fashion designer Adam Jones;  a range of items  by Mark Herald, based on the quilt and commissioned by Tate Britain; and a set of four small pieces by Quilter’s Guild of the British Isles members Judy Fairless, Anne Gosling, Barbara Harrison and Helen Lloyd.  It is one of the pleasures of The Tailor’s Tale, that 19th and 21st century approaches to patchwork and quilting by local textile specialists can be seen side by side, with all the implications of social and economic change that each implies.
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The Tailor’s Quilt

First, a bit of terminology.  A quilt is generally defined as at least two layers of fabric with padding, called wadding, between them, all stitched together either with straight lines crossing each other to form squares or diamonds, or in more elaborate designs.  A patchwork consists of pieces of fabric sewn together.  A patchwork quilt is a patchwork that has been provided with a wadding and backing, and has been sewn together at multiple places across the surface to connect all three levels, to form a patchwork quilt.  The Tailor’s Quilt, technically, is a patchwork, because it is made up of different fabrics sewn together but is not sewn over to join all the layers together.  It is made using the intarsia method, as described by Dr Clare Rose of the V&A:  “This technique, also known as ‘cloth intarsia’, ‘mosaic needlework’, ‘inlaid patchwork’, ‘inlay patchwork’ and ‘stitched inlay’, involves cutting motifs out of wool cloth and stitching them directly to each other with no seam allowances and no backing fabric.”  Features like the panther’s very smug smile, are picked out in silk thread.

James Williams, Draper, located opposite another draper and a boot maker at the gates to the church. Source: @Tiffypox on Twitter

As modern as it looks, and as imaginative as it is, the Tailor’s Quilt was crafted by James Williams in his downtime over a period of 10 years between 1842 and 1852, using leftover fabrics from the suits and military outfits that he made, as well as from textile sample books that were no longer of use.  It is truly astounding for its scale, imagination and the splendid combination of representational scenes and abstract designs.  The quilt is surprisingly huge, and framed behind glass it is a real presence.

It is thought that Williams was born in 1818.  His name is listed in trade directories between 1850 and the year of his death in 1895.  A photograph survives of his shop sign with the church in the background, which is supposed to show a shopfront on 8 College St., Wrexham.  I went to have a look to see if the original building is still there.  The view shown left, which shows a sign with the legend “J. Williams Draper,” cannot possibly be College Street, which approaches at a very awkward side angle to the church tower.  This is without question Church Street.  Perhaps Williams moved from one premises to another at some point in his business life.

A view down Church Street today.

The Tailor’s Quilt measures 2.34m high by 2m wide (7.6 x 6.5ft) and contains over 4,525 pieces of material.  It is far bigger than I was expecting, even knowing the measurements.  It uses a fairly limited but perfectly harmonized palette of colours, drawn from what Williams had to hand.  It shows scenes from the Bible such as Adam naming the animals, Noah’s Ark,  Jonah and the whale (fabulously, with only the legs showing out of the whale’s mouth), and Cain and Abel, with the sky filled with lightning.  It also features motifs symbolizing Wales (a leek), England (a rose), Scotland (a thistle), and Ireland (a shamrock).  Giving the composite scene a really modern twist, the Menai Suspension Bridge and Cefn Viaduct (with a steam engine and two carriages passing over it) are also prominently featured.  The significance of the Chinese pagoda seems to escape most commentators, but perhaps (speculating recklessly) it was inspired by Chinese ceramics, which had become mainstream in 19th century Britain at the time. Part of the fun of the piece, with a huge, self-satisfied black panther dominating the composition, is looking for the vignettes and enjoying the details in each one.

Image source: Tŷ Pawb website, with original image © Amgueddfa Cymru (National Museum Wales).


The combination of abstract, symbolic and representational takes time to absorb, and it works perfectly both on the level of the detailed vignettes and as a complex composition that instantly creates an attractive and appealing impression.  It is difficult to imagine how, over a 10 year period, Williams was able to keep hold of the compositional elements to create something so beautifully balanced and proportioned. 
As the Tŷ Pawb website puts it, “The quilt is now widely regarded as one of the best surviving examples of Welsh folk art.”

It was exhibited at the Art Treasures Exhibition of North Wales in 1876 and the National Eisteddfod in 1933, both held in Wrexham, and in the British Empire Exhibition in Wembley in 1925.  Although its travels were put on hold for conservation work, it is now fit for travel once again, and was displayed in the Victoria and Albert Museum’s Quilts 1700-2010 exhibition in 2010, and was loaned to the Wrexham Museum for a temporary exhibition in 2017.  Its return to Wrexham at Tŷ Pawb in 2022 is very welcome.

Modern Responses to the Tailor’s Quilt

One of the reasons that this exhibition is so appealing is that it explores how The Tailor’s Quilt influenced and inspired other artists working in the same medium. It offers an opportunity not merely to see a sublime example of the genre, but to see how modern textile artists have incorporated design elements of the quilt in their own work.

The most original of the contributions is that made by fashion designer Adam Jones, who was commissioned by Tŷ Pawb to make a quilt of his own to be displayed adjacent to the Tailor’s Quilt.  It works superbly, because Adam Jones has a style that is quite unlike that of James Williams.  His bright, often garish clothes are attention-grabbing and regularly make use of clashing colours, textual elements and pub-themed motifs to make often loud, sometimes kitschy and frequently humorous statements.  Adam Jones is from Froncysyllte near Wrexham, but is now based in London.   Although there are garments from Adam’s collection in the exhibition, to demonstrate some of his creative range, his quilt is particularly interesting in this context.  It combines the inspiration of the Tailor’s Quilt with a unique vision of Wrexham, its football team and pubs, and has its own intense personality.  The composition is set against a bright, shiny red background (Wrexham FC’s dominant colour), and is full of references to Wrexham, and in particular Wrexham Lager.  Contrasting textures, like lace and towelling, and everyday objects like a butcher’s apron and a pair of gloves are intertwined with abstract geometric shapes inspired by the Tailor’s Quilt.  Instead of all four nations, Wales is given pride of place with the dragon at its base.  Flanking Jones’s quilt are huge photographs of the quilt with local people, one man sitting on it, another draping it around her shoulders, removing textile art from the clean walls of the gallery and taking it back to its spiritual home.  Great fun.

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Painter and printmaker Mark Herald was commissioned by Tate Britain to create some pieces based on the Tailor’s Quilt for the Tate’s shop.  Mark’s sketchbook is displayed here, together with some of the items that he created for Tate Britain (some of which are currently for sale in the Wrexham Museum, a short walk away).  His pieces include pictures, mugs, plates and bags.  He takes motifs and themes from the Tailor’s Quilt, gives them a bright hit of colour, and arranges them in harmony on the new surfaces.  They work superbly, echoing the Quilt, the motifs unmistakeably lifted from its progenitor, but given a bright, modern twist on the surface of everyday objects.  Although none of his other works are shown in the exhibition, a quick web search shows why Tate Britain chose him.  His own artworks are similarly full of light, often referencing the animal world, full of bright colours and dynamic shapes.

 

The name that pops up repeatedly when you do a search on the Tailor’s Quilt is clothes Sarah Burton, Creative Director of the fashion house Alexander McQueen.  Sarah Burton was inspired by the Tailor’s Quilt on a visit to St Fagan’s Museum, and incorporated its themes into her Autumn/Winter 2020 collection.

Her work provides yet another contrast.  Just as the Tailor’s Quilt is the product of a professional tailor working in Wrexham, and Adam Jones’s quilt and clothing specifically reference the small town environment of the 70s and 80s that were part of his upbringing, Sarah Burton’s clothing is self-consciously aimed at the catwalk and is the product of the couture design world.  Angular shapes and big panels of fabric are imprinted with motifs lifted directly from the Tailor’s Quilt, but given a new colour palette and an entirely new feel.

Four small pieces exhibited together are by Judy Fairless, Anne Gosling, Barbara Harrison and Helen Lloyd, who each made a piece as a response to the Tailor’s Quilt for the Llangollen Quiltfest in 2017.

From top left, clockwise: Ann Gosling “What a busy life I lead;” Helen Lloyd. “Jump,” Barbara Harrison, “The world around me,” and Judy Fairless, “All Stitched Up”

Although every exhibition has a curator and a team of skilled assistants, the general public does not often hear much about them.  This exhibition was the brainchild of the late Ruth Caswell, to whom the exhibition is dedicated.  She was a very remarkable and award-winning costumier, designer, artist and teacher, as well as a skilled curator of exhibitions, of which this was her last.  The Tŷ Pawb website explains how she started out:

Ruth moved to London in the 1960s, when she met and married her husband actor Eddie Caswell. Ruth said: “When we married and moved to London, we had only £12.50 to our name so I made clothes in my back bedroom and sold them in Kensington Market on a stall next to Freddie Mercury’s. I delivered them on the 73 bus each Friday and they sold instantly.”  Ruth’s clothes were photographed for Vogue and worn by model Jean Shrimpton.

There is a video in the exhibition showing Ruth talking at fascinating length about textile design, and her enthusiasm, eloquence and generosity of spirit are very evident.
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Final Comments

Quilting and patchwork, as craft activities, have a long tradition in domestic contexts, either for daily use or to mark special occasions from the Medieval period onwards.  The Tailor’s Quilt, imagined and hand-stitched by a professional tailor, was very much the product of a professional skill, but was also created within a domestic context.  The exhibition makes it clear how craft activities are now gaining traction in the fields of design and textile arts, featuring on catwalks and in art galleries.  The liminal position held by textile arts for at least a century, is slowly being eroded, and textile is coming of age in a number of commercial contexts where they are recognized as both design and art.

It was a particular stroke of genius to organize The Tailor’s Tale and Blanket Coverage at the same time, and provide them with a single space to share.  Whilst quite different in their content and their style of display, both raise questions about how textiles are regarded today, and what they bring to the world of art.  Both of the exhibitions, the one exploring the impact of a single magnificent piece (the patchwork quilt) and the other exploring the multiple facets of a single genre (blanket weaving), work beautifully both in isolation and together.

With this new exhibition, the Tŷ Pawb gallery has again provided the perfect venue for bringing together modern art and local history, whilst also exploring more universal themes.  The exhibitions The Tailor’s Tale and Blanket Coverage run at Tŷ Pawb until September 24th 2022 between 10am and 4pm Monday to SaturdayEntry is free of charge.


Sources:

Books and papers

Jones, J. 2016. Welsh Quilts. Seren

Rose, C. 2011. A patchwork panel ‘shown at the Great Exhibition.  V&A Online Journal, Issue No. 3 Spring 2011
http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/journals/research-journal/issue-03/a-patchwork-panel-shown-at-the-great-exhibition/#:~:text=This%20technique%2C%20also%20known%20as,allowances%20and%20no%20backing%20fabric.

Ty Pawb handouts, 2022.
– Artist Biographies
– Ruth Caswell

Websites

175 Heroes
Ruth Caswell
https://175heroes.bradfordcollege.ac.uk/ruth_caswell.html

Build Hollywood
Your Space or Mine: Adam Jones
https://www.buildhollywood.co.uk/work/adam-jones/

National Museum of Wales
Patchwork Bedcover
https://museum.wales/collections/online/object/4ce80b8d-182e-3822-8038-54080af6b0b8/Patchwork-bedcover/

Tŷ Pawb
https://www.typawb.wales
The Tailor’s Tale / Blanket Coverage at Tŷ Pawb 02/07/22 – 24/09/22
https://www.typawb.wales/exhibitions/the-tailors-tale-blanket-coverage/

Based in Churton
Exhibition write-up: The luxuriant “Blanket Coverage” at Tŷ Pawb gallery, Wrexham. By Andie Byrnes
https://wp.me/pcZwQK-2F8

The 1898 Sibbersfield Lane milepost along the Chester-Churton-Worthenbury turnpike

Today I was able to take a photograph of the 1898 Sibbersfield Lane milepost, just on the way out of Churton as the road heads towards Crewe-by-Farndon (which is on the other side of the bypass).  I have been taking photographs of the mileposts since I first became interested in the turnpike.

The turnpike (or tollroad) that ran from Chester to Worthenbury was marked with mileposts.  All of those surviving date to 1898, when the council was obliged to take over the turnpike.  They presumably replaced earlier ones.  I have been collecting them, digitally, for over a year now.  So many of them were completely encased in foliage and shrubs that it was impossible to verify their existence until the winter, when all the leafage died back.  I have posted about the turnpike in two parts.  The first looks at turnpikes in general, and the second looks at the Chester to Worthenbury turnpike in particular.  Another post includes photographs of the mileposts as I have located them.

Sibbersfield Lane is a very fast road, and it is not at all safe to stop, get out and take photographs, and as much as I would have liked to get some good shots, it was clearly unwise to get out of the car to risk life and limb, so these are two shots taken from the car, with my handbag camera.  I didn’t have the professional camera that I usually use, so they are a bit blurred.  The camera was, however, perfectly level, and this can be seen by the line of road and hedge.  It is the poor, sad milepost that is at a perilous angle, slowly subsiding into a ditch.  It seems, otherwise, to be in reasonable condition.  I will alert Chester West and Cheshire Council, but it seems unlikely that it will be high on their list of priorities.

 

The late 19th century Churton village pump

A little way down Pump Lane, opposite Churton Hall in the village of Churton is a cast iron hand-activated water pump, in an alluring shade of bottle green.  Its original manufacturer marking is almost illegible, but apparently reads “G. INGOLD B. STORTFORD,” referring to G. Ingold of Bishop’s Stortford.  The modern paintwork makes this illegible today.  I haven’t found any photographs of the pump prior to 2005 when it was renovated and reinstalled, but there must be plenty in local collections, so perhaps some will turn up.  It looks as though it is in very good condition, at least externally, its paintwork glossy and its structure intact.  Its What Three Words location is ///lance.alas.prune.

Pumps were installed from the 18th century, and began to replace wells in the  latter half of the 19th Century.  Wells in Churton are recorded at Churton Hall, Pump Lane, inside and out, and inside Cherry Tree Cottage on Chester Road, discovered during renovation work, the latter now sealed over.  Latham says that well water was very hard in the Farndon area, and that most houses had some form of rainwater storage as a common supplement to use of the well, for washing clothes and other tasks were softer water was required.

There were two primary types of upright pump commonly installed in Britain in the mid-late 19th Century: the lift pump and the force pump.  The Churton pump is probably a lift type.  These are relatively simple, with two valves opening and closing as a piston is lifted and dropped with the lever.  When the handle is lifted, the lower vale opens and the upper valve closes.  The barrel draws the water up the downpipe, filling the barrel below the piston.  When the handle is pushed down, the lower valve closes and the upper one opens, forcing water into the barrel about the piston.  The next upward pull of the handle pushes the water out of the spout, with water again filling the barrel below the piston.

Pumps relied on bringing water up from local aquifers via boreholes, which were the biggest part of pump installation.  A simple screw-shaped auger could be used for soft soils (I use a small one for planting daffodil bulbs), but percussion drilling was required for sinking a borehole through stone, a far more laborious and expensive process.   

The first village standpipe pumps were made of wood, which inevitably rotted, and later lead.  Lead was malleable and enabled smaller pumps to be made, but it was expensive and was targeted by thieves for melting down for resale, in spite of the threat of transportation, which was the standard punishment for theft of village pumps. Cast iron, a new technology in the 18th century that spread during the 19th century, replaced both.   Cast iron pumps were cheap to produce and far less prone to decay.  They spread rapidly into villages that had not previously been able to afford a pump, and found their way into homes, inns, farms and public institutions such as schools and hospitals.

Public pumps were not merely water sources but, much like the office water fountain today, places where people bumped into one another and where information, news and gossip were exchanged.  Some activities were easier to carry out at the pump itself rather than carrying the water back to home or business, whilst some better-off residents paid for the water to be delivered to them.  Comings and goings at the pump made it a social as well as a functional resource, and probably changed the dynamic of village life quite substantially once installed.

Servicing the pump was important, replacing the more vulnerable parts to ensure that it stayed functional.  The pump would sometimes be out of commission during the winter months due to frozen water, and the pumps themselves might be chained up to prevent use, and wrapped against the cold to protect them from frost damage.  I do much the same (wrapping, not chaining) with my high-tech hose reel and my outdoor taps.


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So far a precise date for the installation of the Churton pump eludes me. Latham says that the village pump at Crewe-by-Farndon was installed by William and Mary Barnston in the 1850s, and the one in Farndon by Mary Barnston in about 1877.   However the Churton pump is on the Churton-by-Aldford side of the road, inset into a field on that side of the road.  This is relevant because Churton was divided at that time into two parts, Churton-by-Aldford and Churton-by-Farndon, the division between the two running down the middle of Pump Lane.  Churton-by-Aldford came under the Grosvenor family’s Eaton Hall estate, and Churton-by-Farndon came under the Barnstons of Farndon, so the pump, if not paid for by public subscription, is more likely to have been donated by the Grosvenor family rather than the Barnstons of Crewe-by-Farndon.  On the other hand, I can find no record of a village pump in Aldford at around the same time.  Aldford, of course, was a model village, built from scratch by the 2nd Marquess of Westminster in the mid-19th Century, and the houses may have been supplied with running water.  So the question of how and precisely when the Churton pump arrived remains, for the time being, unanswered, but there are clues to establishing a rough date.  

G. Ingold of Bishop’s Stortford (Hertfordshire), made pumps for a variety of locations, although usually in the south, including villages in Essex and Cambridge.  The company had been founded in 1851 by John Ingold for sinking wells and manufacturing pumps.  He was based at Rye Street with a workshop in Apton Road in Bishops Stortford.  Following the death of John Ingold, the business was taken over by his son George, but the latter was marking pumps “G. Ingold” well before his father’s death.  This seems to put our pump quite late in the 19th Century.  This is born out by a number of wells and pumps in Uttlesford in Essex, where the date was recorded.  The earliest marked as “G. Ingold” as opposed to merely “Ingold,” was in 1873, then 1886, with a cluster of five in the 1890s.

Where images are available, all of the Ingold pumps looked very similar. As far as I can tell from the Essex and Cambridge examples posted on the web, most Ingold pumps had handles to the rear, with only some, like the Churton pump, fitted with handles at the side.  The Ingold spouts often had a thorn-like feature at the top of the bend, a bucket hook, often decorated.  This is absent on the Churton pump, although there is an indentation where one might have been located, visible in the photograph above left.

There are two modern signs on the walls flanking the Churton pump.  One is a disclaimer notice drafted by a local solicitor, commenting on the quality of the water available from the pump, saying that  it derives/derived from an artesian aquifer and warning that one drinks at one’s own risk.  I did try to activate the pump, giving it a really good go after heavy rainfall when the aquifers were all filling up, but it produced nothing.  Although I’ve never tried to use a village pump before, there was no feeling of resistance as you might expect of a lever raising a piston.  Thanks very much to Irene Mundy and John Gallagher for the information that When the renovated pump was reinstalled it was discovered that the pipe delivering water up to the pump was deeper than expected. Half way down the pipe towards the water reservoir another, secondary pumping mechanism had been attached in the past.  Although the pump initially drew water, it eventually ceased to function.  It’s nice that it did work for a while, and it still looks great.

The other sign refers to the restoration.  Although it says that it was a Millennium project, commemorating the arrival of the 2000s, Latham comments that the renovated pump was not actually installed until 2005.  The sign records that the project was supported by both Barnston and Grosvenor estates, both with vested interests in the village, as well as the Chester City Council.  The engineering and installation work was carried out by A.E. and K.E. Jones, farmers near Pant yr Ochain (Gresford), and the welding by J. Vale.  Someone must have a record of the project and the installation of the pump, including photographs of the installation and official opening, which would be really good to see.  The Eaton estate repaired the stone wall that encompassed the pump.  If any more details come to light, I will cover the restoration project on another post.

It was super, late last summer, to see that the sandstone trough beneath the pump had been planted out, and that a very attractive display of bedding plants had replaced the straggling weeds (see also the photo at the top of this post).  Many thanks to whoever took the trouble.  It was great to see it looking so good.  The photograph was taken in August 2021.  The other photos on this post were taken in May 2021.

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For more information on village pumps
I recommend the short book, Village Pumps by Richard K. Williams and the Village Pumps website (details of both below), both of which provided a lot of the general information in this post and are comprehensive resources on the subject of all types of village pump.
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Sources:

Books and papers

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

Williams, R.K. 2009.  Village Pumps.  Shire Library

Websites

The Recorders of Uttlesford History
https://www.recordinguttlesfordhistory.org.uk/

Village Pumps website
http://www.villagepumps.org.uk
Village Pumps: Churton entry
http://www.villagepumps.org.uk/pumpsChesh.htm#C10C

Waymarking.com
Village Pump, Widdington, Essex
https://staging.waymarking.com/waymarks/wmC4MW_Village_Pump_Widdington_Essex_UK

 

Comparing a Churton village postcard, the 1911 map and a modern photograph

1, Fourways. 2, Cross Cottage. 3, Hob Cottage. 4, The Old Red Lion, extension or combined with the earlier building?. 5, The Old Red Lion (former pub with half-timbered section, barely visible here but marked by three square planters). 6, Rowley Place (1-4). 7, New Cottage. 8, Stone House (formerly Stone Cottage and Lilac Cottage, now one house). On the other side of Stone House, and out of view in both postcard and photograph, is Cherry Tree Cottage, dating to 1610 and beyond it Wayside Farmhouse, Highway Farm and The Byre.

This is a tinted version of a black and white photograph used for this distinctive postcard of Churton.  I have seen several for sale on eBay, but all of them were unposted and unmarked, whereas I like to see the stamp, post mark, recipient address and to read the message.   This is a particularly good example.  The postcard was printed in Germany as many early postcards were. It has a Edward VII Halfpenny stamp (Edward VII came to the throne on the death of his mother, Queen Victoria, on 22 January, 1901, and died on 6 May 1910) and bears a Chester postmark dated April 16th 1911.  It was destined for an address in Bootle.  See the message at the end of the post.

On the photograph above and on the maps below, the red numbers have been added for ease of identification, but do not relate in any real-world way to the buildings themselves, none of which, apart from the homes that make up Rowley Place, were allocated Chester Road numbers, and all of which are known instead by their house names.  Several buildings are set back from the road today, and are not visible in the postcard, so have not been mentioned here but are shown on the top of the two maps below.  Note that numbers 4 and 5 refer to what make up the same residence today, but were clearly built at different times in the past.

Modern map of Churton from the Public Map Viewer, compared with the 1911 map (Cheshire Sheet LIII-3, a 1909 revision of the 1872-4 and 1897 -1898 surveys).  Between 3 (Hobbs Cottage) and 4 (part of the Old Red Lion), the thatched half-timbered house is still shown.

Many of the buildings and features shown in the photograph are still present today, but there is one notable omission. Eventually I hope to get to grips with the histories of individual buildings, including my own, but for the time being I have confined myself to playing “spot the difference” between the early 20th century postcard and the photograph I took in March 2021.

The most notable of the buildings that was in the postcard but is absent in the photograph is the half-timbered thatched building that sits between Hobbs Cottage (3)  and the Red Lion (4 + 5) on the photograph, a wonderful looking place that may date to the same period as Churton Hall Farm (in Pump Lane).  It was built directly onto the red sandstone bedrock, and has a small flight of stairs over the bedrock to reach the front door.  If anyone has any information about it, please get in touch.  Its site is now the driveway that gives access to The Nook, which is set back from the road.  A startling sight in the postcard is the regiment of telegraph polls, with seven rows of crossarms.

Almost completely hidden in the postcard is the Old Red Lion, which seems to have been thatched at that time.

Two buildings post-date the 1911 map:  Sandrock and New Cottage on the plot marked 7.   Most other changes are cosmetic, but like the the usual modernizations of window frames but a A  number of minor embellishments have been made to existing properties. The shutters have been removed from Fourways (1).  A sympathetic roof conversion has been fitted to  part of the former Red Lion (4), the porch over Fourways (1), has been changed for something a bit more effective and Hobbs Cottage (3) has been fitted with a small bay window on the ground floor and its brickwork has been rendered and painted.  A road sign for Pump Lane has been added to Cross Cottage since the photo in the postcard was taken (2).  At first glance I thought that the  same signpost pointing down Pump Lane to Coddington had been retained, but it has either been replaced or moved, because it is no longer in front of Hobbs Cottage.

Do get in touch if you have further insights.

As to transport, a novelty of the image compared to today is that there is no traffic thundering up and down!  Instead, there is a one man on horseback retreating down the road at a plodding pace, and a horse-drawn carriage with a small group of people around it, together presenting a very peaceful rural scene.  Ron Parker, who was born in the village, told me that when he was a child they used to play ball in the road.  Heaven help anyone who tried it now.

The note on the postcard was written on a Sunday evening at 6pm in April 1911 by one Jim (presumably Jim Rogers) to his mother Mrs Stanley Rogers.  It  says that they were just going out to attend the Congregational Church at Farndon, having been to “the Parish” in the morning.  This was presumably the Congregational chapel built in 1853, now a home named Chapel House.  The Parish church would have been either St Chad’s in Farndon or St John the Baptist Church in Aldford, depending on whether they were staying in Churton by Farndon or Churton by Aldford.  The two civil parishes were only combined to form a single parish in 2015.  The visitors had already been to Chester on a sunny day, when it was so warm that they had had to carry their coats, and on the following day they were making an early start for a trip to Llangollen.  It must have been quite a trek by horse-drawn carriage. Even with the warm weather, they were enjoying a fire in their sitting room on that Sunday evening.  Jim finishes the card by pointing out that “on the other side is a picture of the conveyance that brought us here”.

Churton seems like a rather remote spot for a holiday break, particularly when the means of getting there was horse and carriage, but that’s very much what this message appears to indicate.  It would be interesting to know the details of the end-to-end journey that ended in a horse and carriage ride into Churton.

If you own a used copy of this postcard (i.e. one that has been posted and has a stamp, postal mark and message), do share the details of it either by commenting here, or by getting in touch with me.  It would be good to build up a picture of the sort of experiences people had when they visited Churton, and to know why they visited in the first place.

 

The Big Butterfly Count 2021

The Big Butterfly Count runs i Britain between 16th July to the 8th August, so we are just in time to join in.  Every year I do the Big Garden Birdwatch, counting birds that land in the garden in a given hour.  It ran this year in January 2021, before I moved to Churton, but I’ll be talking about that next year when it comes around again.

I had not, however, heard of the Big Butterfly Count.  It was reported in the latest edition of the magazine New Scientist, so I fired up my web browser to get the details.

The Big Butterfly Count “is a UK-wide survey aimed at helping us assess the health of our environment simply by counting the amount and type of butterflies (and some day-flying moths) we see.”  The idea is to sit in a promising spot (for example, in your garden, in a park or along a footpath) for 15 minutes and take note of everything you see in that time.

You will need to register for an account, which is free, after which you can download and print off a butterfly identification chart (which also lists the species in which they are interested), and then send in your results.  You can do this via a free smartphone app or via your web browser (computer, tablet, etc).

I am going to spend my 15 minutes in front of my Black Knight buddleia, which is a great butterfly attractor.  A tremendously good excuse for abandoning the weeding and mellowing out with the wildlife 🙂  I had to chase out a peacock butterfly from the living room only this morning.  On a recent walk there were many types in the hedges flanking the footpath section of Knowl Lane at its western end as it approaches the Dee, and I suspect that I will find that the species that prefer those hedges and the ones gracing my garden will be very different.

Find out the details on the Big Butterfly Count website.

 

A walk along the Dee from Churton to the fabulous Eaton Hall Bridge at Aldford

Ordnance Survey Landranger 117, annotated with route details.

On yet another lovely spring day I again neglected the garden in favour of discovering one of the local walks, again from Churton to Aldford, but via a much longer route and this time to the west of the villages.  A couple of weeks ago I described short a walk from Churton towards the Dee, actually my first walk from Churton, but on that occasion I stopped short of actually reaching the river.  On Saturday I walked down the same track to the  Dee and headed north as far as Thomas Telford’s wonderful 1824 iron-built Eaton Hall Bridge at Aldford, before walking back through Aldford, over the B5130 and across the fields to Churton.

I’ll talk about the bridge on a separate post because it deserves some special attention, but here are details of the walk, which took over 3.5 hours at a fairly fast pace, but with stops to take photographs, chat to others and drop in at the Aldford village shop.  Although it is a short 45 minute walk by the shortest route across the fields from Churton to Aldford, the path along the Dee takes over twice as long to walk because it follows all the bends in the river.  The footpath numbers quoted throughout are derived from the Cheshire West and Cheshire Public Map Viewer.

The walk is very straightforward.  The start is reached by walking down the footpath that runs in a straight line from Hob Lane in Churton is “Churton by Aldford FP2.”  The track is wide and inviting, heading downhill as Hob Lane itself vanishes round a corner.  The hedges that flank the track are full of interest, but they form a fairly solid wall, so there’s not much else to see beyond.  The footpath simply follows the course of the river until Aldford comes into view on the right, and shortly afterwards the Eaton Hall Bridge becomes visible through the trees to the left.  The OS map (Landranger 117, the relevant section of which is shown above) indicates a short cut just north of the woodland section, eliminating a somewhat angular bend in the river, but I didn’t follow it.  In the future, given that it would cut out most of the less scenic portion of the river, I would take this short cut.

It is a nice walk from Churton to the Dee and as on my previous walk a couple of weeks ago, the high hedges largely block views of the fields but are very beautiful in their own right, with an increasing number of bluebells and campions at their feet.  By the Dee itself, there are dense zones of wild garlic, which is delicious.

Wild garlic, which will produce lovely star-like white flowers soon.

This less scenic section is immediately visible when you emerge from the track beyond Hobs Lane and turn right along the Dee.  It is really rather dispiriting.  There is a lot of flood damage in the form of fallen trees, branches and washed up debris, but rather more off-putting is on the opposite of the river, a stretch characterized by small chalets, many of them in a poor state of repair or completely derelict, with a series of messy landing stages made of pieces of scaffolding.  Not a promising start, but once that stretch ends, the rest of the walk is thoroughly enjoyable.  As I said above, there is a short cut that eliminates some of this section.

It is not always possible to see the river, because the footpath is set back from the edge and after the recent dry weather, the river is currently sitting rather low in its river bed, a couple of metres below the riverbank.  There are a lot of trees and shrubs growing on the bank, all now coming into leaf, and these hide the river from view along some sections, but where the river is visible it is very fine.  The riverbank trees are lovely in their own right, the spring leaves and catkins picked out in the sunshine.  The views across the well-maintained fields and hedgerows to the east give a sense of openness and order, the dark green crops a contrast to every light spring colour surrounding them.

 

Most of the footpath is very open, and there were a lot of butterflies, mainly red admiral, small tortoiseshell, painted lady and peacocks, although most refused to sit still long enough to be photographed.  There are also some small tracts of attractive woodland clearly marked on the Ordnance Survey map, one of which, just outside Aldford, is absolutely carpeted with more delicious Ramsons (wild garlic) that is just about to come into flower, after which it should be a spectacular sea of white blooms.  

 

 

A 10-year scrub clearance  and tree replacement scheme managed by the Eaton Estate along the banks of the Dee, which is a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), has resulted in the planting of very young saplings supported in green tubes flanking the path in single, double or triple rows like a very short guard of honour.   The clearing of scrub, as well as flood damage, should considerably improve the river bank.  It will be interesting to see how it develops in the future. 

 

The Telford bridge just outside Aldford is an absolute treat.  It first emerges as brief glimpses through the trees before its fully glory becomes apparent, a thing of industry and restrained fantasy, solid and intricate, functional and decorative.  Above all, with ironwork picked out in pale blue and white, and with smart, narrow railings along the top of the bridge, it achieves an most refined elegance.  It spans a particularly well-manicured section of the Dee, linking two highly-polished parts of the Eaton Estate, itself part of the Grosvenor Estate.

 

Map and overlays copied from the Cheshire West and Cheshire Public Map Viewer. Poulton FP4 is the Telford bridge and the black dot in Aldford is the church.

Again using the online map viewer, the footpath (Aldford FP13) leaves the bridge road and crosses a field diagonally, heading for the impressive remains of a motte and bailey castle (of which more on a future post) and, just beyond, Aldford’s distinctive St John the Baptist church.  I walked from there along School Lane and turned left into Rushmere Lane, which flows into Green Lake Lane.  There, I paused to buy a few supplies from the well-stocked Aldford village shop before heading over the B5130 and threading my way through the fields, along footpaths Aldford FP6, Aldford FP4 and Churton By Aldford FP7 to Churton, swinging a particularly divine brown cob loaf for which there was no room in my rucksack.

It is an excellent circular walk if you have a few hours to spare.  In total, it will take about 3.5 to 4 hours depending on how fast you walk. It took me about 3.5 hours, but even pausing to photograph and chat, I’m a bit of a route-marcher.  If you prefer to stroll, it will take longer.

After having spent a winter in semi-hibernation (I truly hate the cold), by the time Churton was in sight my poor legs felt like a pair of old dogs that just wanted to curl up and sleep in front of the fire.  On the back of that thought, I remembered that on my way back from the Roman road last week, I was walking along Edgerley Road and ahead of me saw a man and a golden Labrador.  They were standing in the middle of the road engaged in an obviously fraught dialogue.  The dog, not old but clearly miffed about something, was refusing to move.  All four feet were glued firmly to the floor, and he was deaf to argument, persuasion and entreaty alike.  He simply wasn’t moving any further.  I did grin.  After giving the dog the usual ear massage and some general fuss, which was rewarded with soft eyes and a wagging tail, I offered commiserations to his owner and moved on.  My amused sympathies were with the owner at the time, but after today’s walk I have switched allegiances, and my empathy is now firmly the Labrador who didn’t want to move one more step.