Category Archives: History

Cheshire Lunatic Asylum: The development of lunatic asylums – Part 1.1

The 1829 Building, built as Cheshire’s first lunatic asylum

 

Beginning with nine voluntary institutions, the asylum movement rolled across the 19th century English landscape like an avalanche gathering pace. The ‘mentally unsound’ were moved in ever greater numbers from their communities to these institutions.  From 1808, parliament authorised publicly funded asylums for ‘pauper lunatics’, and 20 were built. From 1845 it became compulsory for counties to build asylums, and a Lunacy Commission was set up to monitor them. By the end of the century there were as many as 120 new asylums in England and Wales, housing more than 100,000 people.

Historic England:  The Growth of the Asylum – a Parallel World

==

 

Introduction

As part of my ongoing series looking at Overleigh Cemetery, I asked Christine Kemp of the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery about the suicides she knew of in Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries.  In the 19th century suicide was more often than not deemed to be the result of temporary insanity.  Looking into how suicide was handled in the 19th century lead me to the discovery, probably very familiar to most Chester residents, that there had been a “lunatic asylum” where the enormous site of the Countess of Chester Hospital is now located at Upton.

The rear of the 1829 Building today

The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was a public institution established to house pauper lunatics as well as a limited number of paying private patients in 1829.  The asylum opened on a 10 acre site in 1829 to accommodate 45 women and 45 men, reflecting the fairly even numbers of both at asylums in the 19th century.  It grew throughout the 19th century and eventually occupied a significant area of over more than 55 acres.

The exterior of the earliest building remains in situ, and has the appearance of an elegant and stately Georgian-style building with a small Classical portico, looking very much more like a the remnant of a country estate than the intimidating prison-type establishment that I had been expecting.  An elegant façade was typical of 19th century asylums.  Today the asylum building is still an active part of the Countess of Chester Hospital, officially named “The 1829 Building” (Grade 2 listed), housing a number of departments including Adult Mental Health, Physical Health and Brain Injury Services, as well as the GP Blood Test DepartmentWhen I was sent to the Blood Test department last year it was some consolation that I was being jabbed in the arm in a place of significant history.

The chapel (Grade 2 listed) was built in 1856 to serve the lunatic asylum, and still on the site although used for a different purpose

Most of the other buildings associated with the asylum have now been demolished, but nearby are the asylum’s 1856 chapel (Grade 2 listed) and the fenced-off and boarded-up remains of what I believe was “the villa,” the 1912 building for treating epilepsy (which had been treated as a mental illness up until the early 20th century). The recently restored water tower also remains.

Although it would have been great to jump into the story of the Chester Lunatic Asylum without delay, the background information was absolutely necessary to make any sense of that story.  In part 1, I have tried to do provide a sufficiently detailed background to give a sense of how the Chester Lunatic Asylum fits into the full history of mental health care in the 19th century.  In part 1 (split into part 1.1 and part 1.2 to make it easier to manage, but both posted on the same day) I look at the background history of what were known as lunatic asylums in the 18th and 19th centuries, with some additional brief comments on how this overlapped with workhouses.  Sources and references for all parts can be found hereA version of parts 1.1 and 1.2,without images, can be downloaded as a single PDF here (27 pages of A4)

In part 2 (also split into two parts) I discuss the Chester asylum itself, built in 1829, the name of which changed many times over the period of its use as an establishment for treating mental illness. Part 2 has been written and will be posted as soon as I have added in the images, probably next week.

Many thanks to historian Mike Royden for sharing his knowledge about the Tudor and Victorian Poor Laws and workhouses.  You can find out more about Mike’s research on his History Pages website.
===

18th and 19th century terminology and its limitations

From at least the 17th century the terms “madhouse” and “lunatic asylum” were terms employed to indicate a place that confined the mentally ill.  These institutions were differentiated from hospitals that dealt with more conventional medical problems where attempts were made to treat rather than confine patients.  The term “asylum” was originally used to refer to places of refuge, retreat and sanctuary, but up until the late-18th century the lunatic asylums were generally custodial in character, often keeping inmates in very poor conditions, and were usually referred to as mad-houses. By the 19th century an asylum was generally an establishment that made claims to treat as well as confine inmates.

Terms such as “mad” and “lunatic,” as well as “idiot” and “imbecile” are now considered to be pejorative, as well as imprecise, and are no longer used in medical, psychiatric, sociological, legal or political contexts today.  In the Victorian and Edwardian periods, however, these were the standard terms used for those who suffered from some form of mental illness that incapacitated them emotionally or cognitively, temporarily or permanently, along a continuum from violent or otherwise harmful behaviour to mere learning difficulties.  The term “insanity” was also in common usage, but has not been entirely excluded from modern usage.  All terms are used throughout this post, reflecting the usage of the 18th and 19th centuries.

Insanity in the 18th and 19th centuries could include a vast array of conditions including delusions, paranoia, self-harm, hysteria, mood-swings, visions, speaking in tongues, irrational violence against others, senility, alcoholism, epileptic fits, dementia, mania, depression and suicidal behaviour. Even eccentricity, such as spiritualism or unconventional social behaviour, was sometimes interpreted as incipient lunacy and could lead to illicit confinement.

The earliest owners and overseers of mad-houses were known as “mad-doctors,” a term from which 19th century asylum owners attempted to distance themselves.  The later specialists in mental illness who claimed (and in some cases did) focus on treatment and cure, who were the predecessors of today’s psychologists and psychiatrists, were known as “alienists.”   The term derives from the idea of mental alienation.

When the only practical solution to lunacy was incarceration, it should have been a priority to establish a set of universal definitions for the unmanageable symptoms of lunacy, but without a centralized approach to this problem, none were forthcoming.  This lack of agreement about what did and did not constitute madness is exemplified by the case of Mrs Catherine Cumming who was abducted from her home and taken to York House Asylum near Battersea in London.  After a period of incarceration and a long legal battle, she was declared sane by a jury, and released.  When Thomas Wilmot, who had signed her lunacy certificate, was asked what he thought lunacy was, he replied that he had never seen a reasonable definition. One of the most notable features of the Cumming case was the number of medical experts called as witnesses, nineteen of them, including such notable names as John Conolly, Sir Alexander Morison and Dr Edward Monro.  As Sarah Wise summarized:

After the Cumming case, it was once again noted by most commentators how unsatisfactory it was that nineteen eminent medical men could give widely differing opinions of what constituted soundness of mind, tailoring their learning according to what ‘side’ in the dispute had hired them. One alienist had claimed that Mrs Cumming was a monomaniac, another that she was an imbecile, and yet another that she was perfectly sane. . . How safe was anyone when the experts had such divergent views of insanity? [Inconvenient People, p.177]

Individual conditions now required names so that patients could be labelled, statistics logged and cases discussed.  For example, research by Hill and Laughurne, based on 1870s records from St Lawrence’s Asylum in Bodmin (Cornwall), identified the most common conditions suffered by those admitted at the asylum.  Although the main reasons for admission were recorded as mania, dementia, melancholia, moral insanity and the combination of manic behaviour and dementia, it is not at all clear what these terms represent.  Hill and Laughurn tentatively apply the following attempts to suggest modern equivalents:  mania probably representing overactive episodes; dementia, which appeared to  include loss of cognition, memory loss, intellectual deficit, schizophrenia and losses of concentration; melancholia, which seems to have mainly indicated underactive episodes relating to depression; moral insanity (unspecified) and the combination of manic behaviour and dementia, which possibly describes bipolar disorder.

Similarly, a table from the 1855 report for the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum, for both males (M) and females (F), shown below, records that the overarching symptoms in that year were mania, melancholia, dementia and amentia (defined as idiocy and imbecility), and these were further sub-categorized by the presence of epilepsy, general paralysis (also known as general paresis), and suicidal propensity.

The “Committee of Visitors and Superintendent of the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum Report” of 1855, showing Reasons for Admission. Wellcome Collection

Unfortunately, the terms for mental illnesses are not used consistently from one institution to another, meaning that mapping them on to modern conditions can be very difficult.  The term dementia, for example, covered a variety of symptoms relating to mental illness at St Lawrence’s and Chester, but has become rather more precisely defined today.  Epilepsy was subsumed into the general category of mental illness until the later 19th and early 20th century when special epilepsy treatment centres were introduced, intended to be more domestic and less institutional.  Suicidal behaviour, with the multiplicity of potential causes and symptoms, even now sits in a somewhat liminal area between mental illness and the ability to make coherent decisions, blurring boundaries.

Admissions, Discharges (Cured and Relieved) and Deaths for Cheshire County Asylum, 1860. Source: Wellcome Collection

Another of the many challenges to understanding how lunatics were assessed was that there were no criteria for how a successful cure could be identified.  In York the Tuke’s compassionate asylum The Retreat, it was assumed that anyone who had been released was cured if they were not readmitted, but not only could this represent wishful thinking without additional data, but it sidestepped the task of creating behavioural or other measures that might be used in asylums to determine whether or not someone ought to be released or detained.  Like other asylums, the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum annual records show that each year a number of patients were released from the asylum, but it is impossible to know what this actually means, as there are no recorded criteria for determining whether or not a patient had been cured or, for example, sent home because they were not necessarily cured but were not dangerous to themselves or others (usually referred to as “relieved” rather than cured). The failure to define criteria to measure the success of treatment and recovery was a serious problem once patients were certified insane and committed to an asylum, because there was no universal agreement about how recovery could or should be recognized.  As well as being imprecise, the lack of clear definitions and criteria was potentially an invitation to corrupt or merely sceptical asylum owners to hold patients indefinitely.

For more on these and other terms see Historic England’s Glossary of Disability History.
===

Practical problems associated with early mental illness

Engraving by T. Bowles 1735. “In a lunatic asylum, and in the company of a variety of other deranged individuals, a half-naked Ramble Gripe, his wrists chained, is restrained by orderlies.” Wellcome Collection Reference 38347i

Depending on its severity many forms of mental illness, and conditions like epilepsy that were interpreted as occasional bouts of madness, could be intensely distressing for the families and friends concerned.  Not only were the symptoms apparently incomprehensible and might seem  to be completely random, but they contravened social norms and conventions in a society that placed great value on normative behaviour.  It might be very difficult to manage the situation if symptoms were particularly acute, requiring physical intervention. Mental illness drew unwanted attention, could attract derision and social stigma, and might prevent family members from marrying due to fears of hereditary contamination.  Depictions of insanity in drama, literature, art, newspapers and magazines only inflated stigma and misunderstanding.  Unfortunately, until the 18th century there was very little official support for mental illness.  In rural locations families who could not keep a mentally or otherwise disabled family member at home could pay for their mentally ill relatives, including those with learning difficulties, to be cared by villagers or at local farms in need of income, sometimes providing indigent widows with a means of generating income. There was no official record of mentally ill people cared for at home.

Wealthy families could either hire an appropriate person to join the household to care for the afflicted individual, or send them to a private home or a privately run asylum where a frequently unqualified person would charge a fee to take the problem off a family’s hands.  Families with middle class and reliable working class incomes might depend on any home-based family members, usually female, to provide care, but less expensive privately run houses might again provide a solution. Private mad-houses only began to become prevalent from the 17th century, and operated as lucrative businesses, unlicensed, unregulated and without oversight, there were mad-houses priced for most pockets.  They were often owned or managed by individuals with no qualifications and run without any medically qualified person in attendance.  Even when operated by physicians or surgeons, these titles covered a multitude of sins and might mean anything from someone who was genuinely attempting to treat ailments to a quack doctor who was little better than a profiteering snake-oil salesman.

At the main gates to Bethlem at Moorgate were two sculptures, which just about say it all: “Melancholia” and “Raving Madness” (in chains) in 1689 by Caius Gabriel Cibber. Source: Wellcome Institute via Wikipedia

For pauper families, a lunatic family member was an even greater burden.  Lunatics whose families could not support them were forced to resort to begging.  These were amongst the most isolated and vulnerable people in society. The pauper insane were undifferentiated from other paupers, including vagrants, tramps, beggars.  Many found themselves in workhouses, and workhouses continued to have a role housing those will mental illnesses well into the 19th century.  Other less fortunate pauper lunatics would be incarcerated in prisons, particularly when violent.

The first charitable mad-house was the 1247 Priory of Our Lady of Bethlehem in London, which had taken in the insane from the early 15th century as a monastic duty.  For most of its life it was a small institution, with a capacity of few more than 40 individuals, but by the mid 19th century it was suffering from overcrowding.  Following the Great Fire of London in 1666 the largest public asylum investment in dealing with lunacy was the 17th century was in the new Bethlehem (also known as Bethlem and Bedlam), which opened in Moorfields on the edge of London in 1676 for 120 patients, with additional extensions added as it reached capacity.  Conditions were notoriously dire until the early 19th century.

Outside London care was organized under local parishes in a highly decentralized way, and these would sometimes provide accommodation for those who, through no fault of their own, were unable to support themselves.  Charitable asylums began to appear throughout England in the early 18th century, first in Norwich and London, then in Newcastle and Manchester by the middle of the century and, towards the end of the 18th century, others in York, Leicester, Liverpool and Hereford.
===

Perceptions of lunacy in society in fiction and theatre

Gustave Doré illustration of Don Quixote in 1863. Source: Wikipedia

Accounts of madness appear in both Old and New Testaments, where they often provided a moral allegorical aspect to  religious narratives.  As literacy and theatre became increasingly popular, insanity became a major literary device in drama and poetry from the Elizabethan period.  This helped to spread an idea of insanity that was something both alien and dark, but at the same time eerily recognizable in the real world, creating both curiosity and fear.  The dramatization of madness appealed to the same sense of  fascination, aversion and suspense that horror and science fiction genres generate today.

Many playwrights used madness to add dramatic emphasis to a number of their plays including Christopher Marlowe’s Dr Faustus (first performed c.1594), Thomas Kyd’s The Spanish Tragedy (first performed 1587), Shakespeare’s Hamlet (first performed c.1601), King Lear (c.1606), and Macbeth (first performed c.1611),  Webster’s Duchess of Malfi (first performed 1614) and John Fletcher’s The Pilgrim (first performed 1621).  The novel Don Quixote (c.1605) by Miguel Cervantes, which depicted outright insanity as the main subject matter, was first translated into English in 1612, with a more popular version in 1700.   In the 18th century Tobias Smollett also translated Cervantes but also offered his own treatment of madness in Sir Launcelot Greaves (1760). Samuel Richardson explored his own versions of female madness in Clarissa (1748) and Sir Charles Grandison (1753).  In the late 18th and early 19th century George Crabbe’s poetry makes frequent reference to madness, and his poem Sir Eustace Grey (published in his collection of 1807), set in a “mad-house” and framed as a conversation between a patient, a doctor and a physician, examines the decline of a sane person into insanity. 

The more he felt misfortune’s blow;
Disgrace and grief he could not hide,
And poverty had laid him low:
Thus shame and sorrow working slow,
At length this humble spirit gave;
Madness on these began to grow,
And bound him to his fiends a slave.

Engravings of a series of William Hogarth’s The Rake’s Progress paintings, published in 1735, include this scene from a lunatic asylum, with wealthy female visitors looking on. Source: Wikipedia

Visual depictions are dominated by William Hogarth’s famous Rake’s Progress, which included a scene showing the Bethlem the asylum as a deranged and frenzied environment viewed by two wealthy ladies visiting the asylum to enjoy a spectacle of curiosity.  Although painted in the early 1730s it was engraved in 1755 after which it was widely distributed.  Satirical cartoonists, building on the work of Hogarth, became very popular in the 18th century, of whom James Gillray is by far the best known, although there were many others.  The satirical publication Punch shared many of these, and it was by no means unusual for them to depict politicians and other senior figures as madmen, some of them chained up in lunatic asylums, showing slapstick, scatological and often puerile visions of a flawed society.  As Cartoonist Martin Rowson says:

Bethlem Hospital, London: the incurables being inspected by a member of the medical staff, with the patients represented by political figures. By Thomas Rowlandson 1789. Source: Wellcome Collection Ref 536228i

Personally, I believe satire is a survival mechanism to stop us all going mad at the horror and injustice of it all by inducing us to laugh instead of weep. . .  That’s why, if we can, we laugh at both those things, as well as being disgusted and terrified by them. Beneath the veil of humour, there’s always a deep, disturbing darkness. [The Guardian, March 2015]

References to behaviour that seemed ill-suited to the rational world, particularly amongst politicians and the social elite, were easily ridiculed by reference to lunatic asylums, which played on the fears of society as well as on its inclination to deride the sane.

The Woman In White by Wilkie Collins, first serialized in 1859 before being published as a book. Source: Wilkie Collins Information Pages

Madness was a recurring theme in 19th century literature and British Victorian fictional literature continued to offer insights into how society perceived lunacy.  Works include Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (1847); The Woman in White (1859) and the short story Fatal Future (1874) both by Wilkie Collins; Charles Reade’s Hard Cash (1863); Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886), and Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), to name but a few.  Insanity also finds its way into many novels and stories by Charles Dickens including the short story A Madman’s Manuscript (1836, from The Pickwick Papers) and the novels Bleak House (early 1850s) and Great Expectations (1861).  

Madness was also featured in opera, particularly adaptations of Shakespeare’s plays, and those by Gaetano Donizetti who made particular use of madness as a device. Donizetti’s Anna Bolena of 1830, in which Anna (Anne Boleyn) goes mad in the Tower of London as she awaits execution, suffering delusions) was premiered in London 1831. Donizetti’s 1838 Lucia de Lammermoor, based on Sir Walter Scott’s 1819 novel The Bride of Lammermoor, in which the eponymous heroine goes mad when her brother forces her into a loveless marriage, was first performed in London in 1836, with a famous Eccola! mad scene.  Lucrezia Borgia, dates to 1833 and was premiered in London in 1839.  Other well known operas that feature insanity are Vincenzo Bellini’s I Puritani, in which the heroine goes mad when she is abandoned at the altar and in Wolgang Amadeus Mozart’s Idomeneo win which the vengeful Elettra, another woman unlucky in love, goes splendidly mad with grief and rage at the end of the opera.

The mad Bertha Mason as envisaged by F. H. Townsend for the second edition of Jane Eyre, published in 1847. Source: Wikipedia

The above-mentioned functional works by Charlotte Brontë, Wilkie Collins and Charles Reade dealt with wrongful detainment, either at home or in an asylum, bringing a new risk to public attention.  The impact of these fictional works were considerably exacerbated by real-life incidents of wrongful detainment.  Sarah Wise’s book Inconvenient People provides many examples of illicit incarceration and how these were handled.  An early 19th century example is the case of one Mrs Hawley.  It is worth quoting James Peller Malcolm’s 1808 account in Anecdotes of the Manners and Customs of London during the Eighteenth Century Including the Charities, Depravities, Dresses, and Amusements etc to give an example of how the sort of accounts that the public were reading:

Amongst the malpractices of the Century may be included the Private Mad-houses. At first view such receptacles appear useful, and in many respects preferable to Public; but the avarice of the keepers, who were under no other control than their own consciences, led them to assist in the most nefarious plans for confining sane persons, whose relations or guardians, impelled by the same motive, or private vengeance, sometimes forgot all the restraints of nature, and immured them in the horrors of a prison, under a charge of insanity.  Turlington kept a private Mad-house at Chelsea: to this place Mrs. Hawley was conveyed by her mother and husband, September 5, 1762, under pretense of their going on a party of pleasure to Turnham-Green. She was rescued from the coercion of this man by a writ of Habeas corpus, obtained by Mr. La Fortune, to whom the lady was denied by Turlington and Dr. Riddle; but the latter having been fortunate enough to see her at a window, her release was accomplished. It was fully proved upon examination, that no medicines were offered to Mrs. Hawley, and that she was perfectly sane.

This incident lead to a Select Committee investigation appointed by the House of Commons to investigate wrongful detention in private asylums, and lead to Madhouse Act of 1774 (on which more later), which recognized the problem and although it did not do nearly enough to tackle it, set a useful precedent for applying legal measures to madhouses.  Legislation throughout the 19th century attempted to prevent wrongful certification, but there were four highly publicized scandals on illegal incarceration in 1858 that fuelled public fear and even as late as 1890 laws were being introduced to prevent collusion between those attempting to admit sane patients and certain medical men incentivized to receive them.

Introduction to Nellie Bly’s account of her undercover work in an American asylum. Source: Internet Archive

The requirements for committing the poor in public asylums were less stringent.  This was not an elitist measure.  The wealthy were far more vulnerable to family manipulation for self-gain, and as Sarah Wise has demonstrated, men were just as vulnerable in this respect as women.  Pauper lunatics whose families had little financial incentive to incarcerate impoverished relatives, except to reduce the pressure on household costs.  On the other hand the wealthy were universally treated far more kindly than the poor.

In America, Nellie Bly’s late 19th century journalistic account of the ten days she spent on an undercover assignment, incarcerated in an American women’s asylum caused a public outcry similar to that attached to the repeated scandals at Bethlem, the York Lunatic Asylum scandals in 1790 and 1814 and the four highly publicized cases of 1858.  Bly’s experiences were published and widely distributed in book form in 1887.  Nellie Bly, the pen-name for Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman, was a correspondent on The New York World, and her articles and book served to raise awareness of the true horrors that still existed so late in the 19th century on both sides of the Atlantic.

All these different types of medium demonstrate that madness was a powerful artistic and dramatic device, eliciting feelings of both fascination and dread.
===

Approaches to lunacy before 1830

The 1676 front page from “The Anatomy of Melancholy” by Robert Burton, first published in 1621. Source: Shakespeare Birthplace Trust

One of the earliest non-fiction books to be published on the subject of mental instability was Robert Burton’s (1577 – 1640) startling and difficult 1621 The Anatomy of Melancholy which ranges freely through all aspects of religion, the Classics and literature to discuss, in a somewhat tangled narrative, a variety of behaviours that he brings together under “melancholy” that he generally equates to madness:

That men are so misaffected, melancholy, mad, giddy-headed, hear the testimony of Solomon, Eccl.ii.12. “And I turned to behold wisdom, madness and folly,” &c. And ver.23: “All his days are sorrow, his travel grief, and his heart taketh no rest in the night.” So that take melancholy in what sense you will, properly or improperly, in disposition or habit, for pleasure or for pain, dotage, discontent, fear, sorrow, madness, for part, or all, truly, or metaphorically, ’tis all one. Laughter itself is madness according to Solomon, and as St. Paul hath it, “Worldly sorrow brings death.” “The hearts of the sons of men are evil, and madness is in their hearts while they live,” Eccl.ix.3. “Wise men themselves are no better.” Eccl.i.18.

This is one of many publications that demonstrate that there was no science-based medical understanding of madness before the later 19th century, partly because there was little understanding of human anatomy or neurology, and partly because of the existence of well-honed model of human biology.  In the late 11th century the published research of Arab scholars came to the west, where it had a colossal impact on how the world was understood and interpreted, offering new explanatory models that were not dependent on Christian conventions or traditional folklore, but were still woefully inaccurate.

The Four Humours and their characteristics. Source: National Library of Medicine

The dominant medical model from the medieval period, echoes of which lasted well into the 19th century, derived from Greek thinking was medical, based on Hippocrates and modifications of Hippocrates by Galen.  Forming the foundation of medieval ideas of biology and the treatment of ailments, these beliefs were based on the theory that humans were were made up of four basic elements called humours, which were characterized by specific properties that had to be kept in balance in order for health and well-being to be maintained. Failure to balance these humours was thought to result in illness and/or mental instability.  This was a powerful explanatory model that appeared to offer solutions but although it avoided some often unpleasant divine, magical and superstitions approaches, with which it lived side by side, it represented a complete lack of understanding of human biology and anatomy.  Various often painful and harmful techniques were employed in attempts to restore equilibrium to these imaginary humours. Some of the treatments were quite literally torturous, intended to draw out or counteract imbalances. Together with explanations citing demonic influence, the humours were an important part of medieval belief that leaked into the 18th and early 19th centuries.  Treatments included restraints long periods of isolation and so-called treatments including purging, bloodletting, food deprivation, hot and cold water immersion and beating to attempt to treat madness with physical measures, and presumably to enforce better behaviour.

The issue of whether or not madness could be treated to reduce or eliminate symptoms became a matter of considerable importance to the royal family and the government at the end of the 18th century.  Beginning in the 1780s, King George III (1738-1820) experienced phases of severe mental disturbance.  This brought with it an interest in research into symptoms of madness at state level.  The king’s medical team included Francis Willis, a former clergyman who owned an asylum in Lincolnshire.  Willis’s treatment of King George indicates that the treatments employed in both private and public asylums were genuinely believed to have a beneficial impact because the king was subjected to the same type of treatment practised to rebalance humours, and which Willis used in his own asylum, including ice baths, purging, enforced vomiting, burns, denial of food, and restraints.  King George appeared to improve after treatment, and Willis was well-rewarded, but the king’s condition worsened again in the early 18900s.  In 1810, perhaps because his illness was exacerbated by the death of his daughter Princess Amelia, he withdrew from official duties, although lived for another 10 years.

By far the most common solution for non-royal lunatics was some form of containment.  As Lucy Series puts it: “A key tenet of the law of institutions is that some people belong in ‘institutions’ (at least some of the time) and others do not.”  Those institutions were designed to separate the mad from their homes and communities “spatially, legally and socially.”  It was  from the late 17th century in London and the 18th century elsewhere in Britain that the problems associated with madness began to be approached by both private enterprise and, more slowly, charities.  Private asylums were unlicensed and unregulated, operating completely outside any legal framework, and as early as 1728 Daniel Defoe (writing under the pseudonym Andrew Moreton) referred to the “vile practice” of incarcerating family members for personal advantage.  Operated as commercial ventures, and often very profitable, they grew in great numbers.  The new 1676 public Bethlem hospital for 120 patients, was designed by Robert Hooke along impressively grandiose lines but it was poorly constructed and deteriorated rapidly, requiring extensive maintenance and repair.  It has become infamous for charging tourists a fee to view the mentally disturbed, a practice not stopped until 1770.  It treated the mentally ill as sub-human, barely better than chained animals, and conditions became notoriously dreadful, not tackled until a new reformist superintendent was installed in 1815.

Seven vignettes of people suffering from different types of mental illness. Lithograph by W. Spread and J. Reed, 1858. Source: Wellcome Collection, Ref. 20076i

As the 19th century proceeded, lunacy or madness was interpreted in different ways, both medical and philosophical, drawing together the brain, the body and the mind in new exploratory but untested directions.  In Britain, as well as elsewhere, physical examination of the skull (phrenology) and the face (physiognomy) were approaches that attempted to find the source of madness in visible physical details, but there was little attempt to develop a scientific understanding of madness or how to treat it.  Britain’s alienist German counterparts, were more closely affiliated with universities and adopted academic approaches, and developed new ideas towards mental illness in laboratory environments where hypotheses formed and tested.  It is in Germany that the term “psychiatry” was first coined in the early 19th century, and from where  many of the innovations in understanding mental illness started to emerge.  In the late 19th century Emil Kraepelin, Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Heidelberg, recognized and described the mental illness dementia praecox, later renamed schizophrenia.  This type of research began to influence some British researchers, some of whose own work was recorded in the Journal of Mental Science.  Linkages between pathological conditions (such as infectious disease), and mental conditions were only recognized in the later 19th century.  For example, the connection between the sexually transmitted infection syphilis and its late-phase symptoms (including mood swings, antisocial behaviour, delusions and seizures) was only recognized in the late 1880s.

There were no medicines available to treat the causes of mental illness.  The only medications available were for the treatment of symptoms, not causes.  Tranquilizers, a certain amount of pain relief and the treatments for fever were the only available forms of relief for patients.  For very violent patients the only measures were sedatives, restraints and isolation.
===

The growth of the lunatic asylum 1751-1834

Sketch of the original plan of the Chester Union Workhouse. Source: Chester – A Virtual Stroll Around the Walls

The Old Poor Law (officially the Act for the Relief of the Poor) of 1601 had been instigated during the reign of Elizabeth I was modified but largely changed until the 1834.  It classified paupers as the able-bodied who were unable to find employment, the able-bodied who refused to find employment, and those who due to illness, old age, disability or other infirmities, including lunacy, were unfit for employment and needed relief.  In the 18th century the institutional mechanisms available for the mentally ill who had no family assistance were mainly hospitals, workhouses, almshouses, and prisons each set up to cater for different types of problem and accompanying symptoms.  Some parishes paid for lunatics to be housed in private house, where they could be confined, but public funding of lunatic confinement was unusual.

The problem of poverty and paupers is well represented by the multitude of poor laws that were introduced throughout the Tudor and Jacobean periods.  The church and charitable organizations might assist with payments and household supplies, and even housing for the poor, providing a accommodation and food in return for labour, but such resources were few and far between and did not apply to lunatics.  A much more familiar solution for the pauper insane became the workhouse, an early institution initially set up with the laudable intention of helping the poor on a parish by parish basis, partly funded by the “poor rate”, and which also took in the pauper insane.  Charitable public lunatic asylums, some raised by subscription, were introduced at the end of the 18th century, and became more important as workhouses became more penal in character, but workhouses were still acknowledged places of detention and safekeeping for the insane and the imbecile well into the 19th century.

The 1713 and 1744 Vagrancy Acts distinguished between lunatics and criminals, imposing much less severe treatment on the former, but providing for their detention.  In practice, this meant incarceration in a jail or Bridewell rather than a death sentence.  In 1723 the General Workhouse Act, intending to reduce the ongoing costs of maintenance of unemployed paupers, allowed parishes to erect a workhouse, and judge whether those who were out of work should be sent to the workhouse and to labour for their shelter and food.  They were built all over Britain in their 100s.  Paupers with learning difficulties or mental illnesses were regularly subsumed into the workhouse system due to the lack of any practical alternative. Although anyone could leave, at least in theory, the workhouse was not a place of rehabilitation, and was designed to be sufficiently ghastly to deter people from seeking state help.  Some workhouses had a wing for lunatics, but the conditions were very poor.  Whilst it probably did lead some to seek work, the system penalized those who were genuinely unable to work.

St Luke’s Hospital, Cripplegate, London: the facade from the east. Engraving after T. H. Shepherd. Source: Wellcome Collection, ref. 26120i

A new model of lunatic asylums is represented by St Luke’s Hospital for Lunatics, founded on Old Street in Cripplegate (London), which opened in 1751.  The neoclassical façade favoured by was emulated by several later institutions.  Its first head physician was Dr William Battie, who set himself up in opposition to the barbaric and punitive regime at Bethlem, and published his Treatise on Madness in 1758, describing his contrasting approach.  He distinguished between un-treatable congenital madness and that caused by a social environment, which might be treated.  He was unusual in preferring treatment to constraint, and although his methods were interventionist, his belief that mental illness was treatable and even curable was influential.  He ran a school at the hospital in the hope that this would disperse his teachings and approaches.  Although he took in pauper lunatics, Battie ran the hospital as a profitable commercial venture.

The 1774 Act for Regulating Private Madhouses (and sometimes referred to as the Lunacy Act or the Madhouse Act ) was an early attempt to regulate and manage private madhouses. Public asylums were not regulated by this Act. One of its achievements was the appointment of five Commissioners who were Fellows of the Royal College of Physicians who would inspect private asylums, and although these were only in the London area it was a step towards certification and licencing.  Another important measure was designed to ensure that anyone committed required two referrals by qualified doctors to ensure that individuals were not wrongfully confined by their families.

In 1782 The Act for the Relief and Employment of the Poor (also known as Gilbert’s Act) allowed parishes to form themselves into groups for the purpose of building workhouses exclusively for those unable to work. No able-bodied people were to be admitted.  Although this was not a successful measure, being entirely optional with a poor take-up, it did acknowledge a real need for providing for the physically and mentally infirm.

As William Battie had demonstrated, real change lay as much in philosophical, ideological and humanitarian ideas as medical and legal ones.  The Quaker movement had a strong influence on this idealized way of treating mental illness, and this grew partly out of the death of Quaker Hannah Mills in 1790, less then a month after being admitted to the York Lunatic Asylum (opened 1777), suffering from melancholy.  She was one of some 300 inmates who died there in the 37 years between 1777 and 1814.  Her case came to the attention of the Quaker and wholesale tea trader William Tuke (1732-1822).  Horrified by the facts of the matter, decided to raise funds to build an asylum in which members of the Quaker community suffering from mental health problems could be treated in a new and civilized way.  The result was his own asylum called The Retreat, which opened in 1792. His approach, referred to as the “moral” treatment, was altogether more compassionate and empathetic, based on the belief that a positive physical and emotional environment and good food were key to mental recovery.   A nurturing and therapeutic approach to care was adopted.  Instead of being treated as sub-human or bestial, those who entered the asylum were encouraged to lead lives emulating social norms.  Restraint was only used when strictly necessary, and although patients were confined within an institution, the Retreat attempted to reproduced ordinary home living and encouraged socializing amongst patients to help patients to recover. William Tuke’s son also worked at the asylum, and his grandson Samuel Tuke (1784-1847), published a description of The Retreat in 1813, describing the philosophy and activities of the asylum.  This publication helped to inform other mental illness reformers.

Depiction of “The Retreat,” established by William Tuke in 1792, by George Isaac Sidebottom, a patient at the retreat in the late 19th century. Source: Wellcome Collection RET/2/1/7/5

Following the 1808 County Asylum’s Act known as “Wynn’s Act” after Charles Williams-Wynn, the politician who did much to promote it, Justices of the Peace were given the authority to build county asylums, and to raise finance to do so.  This was optional, not compulsory, and local councils were under no obligation to build asylums. Although some new asylums were subsequently built to enable paupers with mental illnesses to be removed from workhouses and placed in appropriate establishments these were slow to arrive.  Many who suffered with mental illnesses or learning difficulties continued to be taken into workhouses and prisons.  The treatment of the poor continued to be a story of failure to respond to a serious need, whilst the rich were still regularly deposited in private institutions of very variable quality.

York Lunatic Asylum. Source: Wikipedia

In the meantime, the York Lunatic Asylum, first under physician Alexander Hunter, and after his death in 1809 under his assistant Dr Charles Best, continued to take a custodial, punitive and disgustingly neglectful approach to its patients, a fact that Tuke and other York philanthropists attempted to address, partly by reporting cases to the media and partly by infiltrating the board of governors and using this to demand access to the asylum to inspect patient care, finding that although wealthy patients were usually well treated, pauper lunatics were kept in dreadful conditions.  Godfrey Higgins, one of a number of social agitators in York at the time, who had taken a particular interest in the treatment of the insane, used his influence to demand an inspection in March 1814.  When he found locked doors he insisted that they be opened, threatening to break them down himself.  Inside one room he found female patients in what he referred to as “a number of secret cells in a state of filth, horrible beyond description . . . the most miserable objects I ever beheld.”  In another part of the asylum he found “more than 100 poor creatures shut up together, unattended and unsuspected by anyone”.  The case went to court, and a new committee was appointed in 1814, but problems continued to be reported.

Bethlehem (Bethlem) Hospital by William Henry Toms for William Maitland’s History of London, published 1739. Source: Wikipedia

The dire conditions at Bethlem in Moorfields continued to be a disgrace to London.   Even though a decision had been made to replace the Moorfields building with a new one, south of the Thames at Southwark, matters might have gone on as before if not for Edward Wakefield, a Quaker, like the Tukes, an advocate of lunacy reform whose mother had been confined in an asylum.  He had visited the Moorfields site in 1814 and reported on the inhuman conditions that he witnessed there.  Wakefield’s insights were an important part of the Select Committee investigation of 1815, which reported on the appalling conditions that Wakefield had found.

A sample of Wakefield’s contribution to the 305-page report is as follows, which is by no means the most distressing: In the early 1800s it was determined that the Bethlem Lunatic Asylum building in London was no longer fit for purpose, and it was demolished, replaced by a new building in Southwark (which today houses the Imperial War Museum).

American sailor James (sometimes called William) Norris as found in Bethlem in 1815, where he had been detailed for over a decade. Source: Wikipedia

We first proceeded to visit the women’s galleries: one of the side rooms contained about ten patients, each chained by one arm or leg to the wall; the chain allowing them merely to stand up by the bench or form fixed to the wall, or to sit down on it. The nakedness of each patient was covered by a blanket-gown only; the blanket-gown is a blanket formed something like a dressing-gown, with nothing to fasten it with in front; this constitutes the whole covering; the feet even were naked. One female in this side room, thus chained, was an object remarkably striking; She mentioned her maiden and married names, and stated that she had !been a teacher of languages; the keepers described her as a very accomplished lady, mistress of many languages, and corroborated her account of herself. The Committee can hardly imagine a human being in a more degraded and brutalizing situation than that in which I found this female, who held a coherent conversation with us, and was of course fully sensible of the mental and bodily condition of those wretched
beings, who, equally without clothing, were closely chained to the same wall with herself
. . . .
In the men’s wing in the side room, six patients were chained close to the wall, five handcuffed; and one locked to the wall by the right arm as well as by the right leg; he was very noisy; all were naked, except as to the blanket-gown or a small rug on the shoulders, and without shoes; one complained much of the coldness of his feet; one of us felt them, they were very cold. The patients in this room, except the noisy one, and the poor lad with cold feet, who was lucid when we saw him, were dreadful idiots ; their nakedness and their mode of confinement, gave this room the complete appearance of a dog-kennel.
[First report from the Committee on the State of Madhouses, 1815, p.46]

 

The new Bethlem of 1815. Source: BBC Culture

===
Wakefield himself was appointed as the new superintendent of the new Bethlem in Southwark and he introduced similar values as those employed by the Tukes at The Retreat.  The new Bethlem opened in 1815 with a wing for the criminally insane, the same year as the Select Committee report on the condition of lunatic asylums.
======

Excerpt from Committee Appointed to Consider of Provision Being Made for the Better Regulation of Madhouses in England, Parliament, House of Commons 1815-16. First report from the Committee on the State of Madhouses. London.  Source: Wellcome Collection

The 1815 First report from the Committee on the State of Madhouses of the House of Commons Select Committees highlighted the lack of oversight of lunatics, and the dismal conditions in which patients that pertained in far too many asylums, workhouses and other institutions where lunatics and imbeciles were confined.

The report’s findings are elegantly phrased, but make it abundantly clear that asylums, amongst them some of the most successful institutions of the day violated basic human rights.  The conditions for paupers and even those of better social standing who lacked visitors to make complaints were frequently filthy places of restraint, beatings and both physical and mental cruelty, with overcrowding, freezing cold conditions, lack of sufficient attendants, and poor admission procedures.  Some of the accounts make for really harrowing reading.  The most truly depressing aspect of the report is that although the committee had made heartfelt recommendations for improvements, matters remained largely unchanged because these did not pass into law.

A page from Mitford’s “Crimes and Horrors in the Interior of Warburton’s Private Mad-House at Hoxton.” Source: Internet Archive

Unsurprisingly, matters had not much improved seven years later in 1822 when John Mitford published his eye-opening A Description of the Crimes and Horrors in the Interior of Warburton’s Private Madhouse at Hoxton.  Mitford’s assessment of Mr Warburton, unqualified and cruel, concludes that “[on] a careful exposure of this diabolical establishment, I doubt not all will agree with me in opinion, that these ‘lawless houses under the law’ should be done away with entirely, as a disgrace to human nature. The angel of death moves through them with secret and murderous strides.”  As with Edward Wakefield’s earlier expose of Bethlem in 1815, it is a truly shocking read.

It took another decade before another Select Committee was appointed in 1827, partly due to a scandal concerning conditions and illegal incarceration at Warburton’s Mad-house in Hoxton, and partly due to campaigning by both social reformers M.P. Lord Anthony Ashley (as from 1851 Lord Shaftesbury), and Dorset magistrate Robert Gordon.  This time the Committee’s reports were taken into account and two new acts were passed in 1828. The Act to Regulate the Care and Treatment of Insane Persons in England (also known as The Madhouse Act) appointed a new Commission in Lunacy to improve centralized control over asylums, not merely in London but throughout England and Wales in an attempt to provide consistent oversight.  The Act attempted to tighten up the certification required before a person, either private or pauper, could be admitted to a lunatic asylum, and the Commission was given much greater powers to act in respect of private asylums.  The admission of pauper lunatics now required certification by a Justice of the Peace as well as a physician.  The County Lunatic Asylums (England) Act again encouraged counties to build asylums from ratepayer contributions, and also required that county asylums should send detailed reports on an annual basis to the Home Office.  The Act was updated in 1832, again to attempt to improve the certification process and prevent illegal detainment, making false or inaccurate certification a misdemeanour.

Following the 1808 and 1828 Acts, several new county asylums had been built.  Early examples were Nottingham, Bedford, Norfolk, Staffordshire, Cornwall, Gloucester and Suffolk all before 1830.  It is at this point, to slot it into its chronological context, that the new Cheshire Lunatic Asylum was built, in 1829.

Please click here to go to Part 1.2, the second part of this background to the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum.  The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum itself is discussed in Part 2.
===

The Tukes’ Retreat, a private asylum delivering “moral treatment” in York, which opened in 1792. Source: Wikipedia

 

Chester Lunatic Asylum 1831, a public asylum established for paupers, and a few private patients, which opened in 1829. Source: Wellcome Institute Library

====

Lovely 1858 engraving of the Minerva Shrine in Chester

==

In 1858 the Roberts’ Chester Guide was published, with a series of engravings accompanying the text, one of which is the Minerva Shrine.  Posted for no better reason than it provides a  rather endearing 19th century take on the shrine, here it is, with thanks to Project Gutenberg, which has uploaded a digitized version of the book.

Located in Edgar’s Field in Handbridge, very close to the Dee, the Minerva Shrine is battered and water-eroded, and is a miraculous survivor of Roman Chester, carved into the red sandstone of the former Roman quarry.  Minerva was goddess of artistic endeavour, craft and strategic warfare, the latter an interesting distinction from Mars who was the god of armed conflict in war.  Her location in the Roman quarry as well as her association with the legionary fortress of Deva makes her particularly appropriate.  According to Historic England: “It was made in the early 2nd century. It has a 19th century stone hood protecting it.”  Although it is not the only example of an in-situ shrine in Britain (Peter Carrington has drawn my attention to other examples – in Northumberland and in Upper Coquetdale), it is certainly rare.

I love the map!
==

==
Messing around with my iPhone, this is the Minerva Shrine back in June 2024.

 

Day trip: Architectural expression in the Cluniac Wenlock Priory in Much Wenlock, Shropshire

Introduction

North transept

Because there is no sense of a physical division between the remains of Cluniac Wenlock Priory and the very picturesque village of Much Wenlock, the one blending into the other, the village and the priory make up a terrific visit between them.  The little museum was closed when I was there, but this too is apparently well worth a visit.

The post-Conquest priory was established in the 11th century, at around 1082 by Roger de Montgomery.  The term “priory” often denotes a smaller subset of a more impressive substantial abbey, but this is misleading here.  Wenlock Priory is considerably substantial and its remains continue to impress.  The term “priory” in this case refers to its status as a foundation belonging to the Cluniac order’s founding monastery at  in France, discussed further below.

The ground plans of monastic establishments in Britain all conform to a basic formula, first established by the Benedictine order, and because most are ruined it is sometimes easy to miss the considerable variations that were built into the architecture by the different monastic orders that followed the Benedictines.  This is clearly seen at Wenlock, where specific architectural features reflect a very different ideology from many of its competitors.  These differentiating features are highlighted below.

Artist’s reconstruction of Wenlock Priory in the mid 15th century. My annotations, based on the above English Heritage site plan.  There’s a nifty feature on the English Heritage site that allows you to overlay an aeriel photograph over this image by dragging it, to show how present and past related.  Source: English Heritage

The original arrangement of the most important monastic buildings followed the Benedictine interpretation of their founder, the 6th century St Benedict of Nursia, in Italy.  The formula required that the first building to be built was a church. This formed one side of a square cloister of essential buildings, all connected by a walkway that surrounded a green square, the garth.  Other buildings would be erected later in a monastic establishment’s history, often around secondary and tertiary cloisters.

This basic layout is demonstrated at Wenlock Priory. The church was normally on the north side of the cloister, to protect the rest of the buildings from the worst of the weather and to provide light to the garth, and this is also true at Wenlock.

The rest of the cloister, main shown on the left in the reconstruction, consists of three ranges connected by a walkway.  The east range essential administrative buildings: the chapter house and the book room a door leading up to the dormitory. The dormitory extended from the east range out to the south to become one side of a secondary cloister.  The south range usually incorporated the refectory, as it does here, where the monks ate all their meals, as well as the kitchen and the warming room.  The use of the west range varied from one order to another, and at Wenlock its use is uncertain.

Blind arcading in the Chapter House

Subsequent buildings, such as an infirmary, the prior’s lodging and land set aside for a cemetery, are often lost in ruined cemeteries, but thanks to the conversion of the prior’s lodging and infirmary into a private residence, these have been preserved (although are not open to visitors).  This enables the larger layout of Wenlock to be understood, where this information has been lost in many other ruined sites.  Other elements, such as boundary markers, and a gate-house are no longer visible, but the sites of tow important fishponds have been located.
==

The Cluniacs

A model representing the vast headquarters of the Cluniac order at Cluny in France as it was at its height. Source: Wikipedia, by Hannes72 CC BY-SA 3.0

The Cluniac Order was founded in 909 in the southern Burgundy area of France by the Duke of Aquitaine with the Abbey of Cluny.  The new order was created partly as a response to the belief that the earlier Benedictine order had become lax in its monastic practices and also the belief that its senior personnel were frequently corrupt.  However, although they took St Benedict’s Rules as their guideline, the Cluniac order did not follow the letter of St Benedict’s vision.

St Benedict had divided the workload of his monastic community into “ora et labora” (prayer and work).  Different monastic orders each put different emphasis on these components. Work for the Cistercians, for example, meant both physical labour and time spent both learning and copying religious texts and religious law.  For the Cluniacs, manual labour was not considered relevant, and study was rarely as significant as in other orders.  Instead, their emphasis was on glorifying God and Christ via an emphasis on liturgy and displays of material wealth.  Their elaborate architecture, stained glass, paintwork, artworks, rich vestments, priceless relics and other valuable objects, attracted wealthy patrons who related to this rich environment. 

Early in its history the Cluniac order had secured independence from the local bishopric, which usually oversaw monastic establishments, and became answerable only to the papacy.  This direct attachment to the ultimate divine authority on earth and the emphasis on liturgy and prayer were particularly attractive to endowments.  The order’s rules laid down that those who granted endowments to the order were not permitted to dictate Cluniac management of their own houses.  The Cluniacs became politically influential in France. 

La Charité-sur-Loire, Burgundy, the mother house of Wenlock Priory. Photograph by Rolf Kranz. Source: Wikipedia CC BY-SA 4_0

All this ostentatious display of piety impressed patrons, but one shudders to think what St Benedict would have made of it all.  The Cistercians, Savignacs and Carthusians all responded to the increasing materiality and conspicuous displays of wealth of both Cluniac and Benedictine orders with a different ideological and procedural way of life, already discussed on the blog in connection with Valle Crucis Abbey (Llangollen) and Basingwerk Abbey (Holywell).  It was the Cluniac model that particularly repelled the break-away orders who sought isolation, humility and hard work as more appropriate ways of honouring their Christian beliefs.  On the other hand, the Cluniac system of making all subsequent houses accountable to the mother house introduced an element of governance, together with the insistance of rule enforcement, that was not required by the Benedictines, and which helped to give the Cluniacs real cohesion, a system imitated and enforced in particular by the Cistercians.

Throughout England, following the Norman invasion and mainly between 1075 and 1175, the order began to spread throughout England, amounting to 36 new foundations, many of them very ambitious.  The first was established in Lewes in Sussex in 1077 by William de Warenne.  Bermondsey, now a part of southeast London followed soon afterwards.  Wenlock was one of the next to be established in 1180, by Roger de Montgomery.  The Cluniac order continued to be very successful, particularly in France. 

The bronze effigy of Edward III in Westminster Cathedral

Because the priory it was subject to its mother abbey of Cluny in France, Wenlock was one of many French monasteries in Englan termed an “alien priory.”  This became particularly relevant during the Hundred Years War under Edward III, which broke out in 1337.  Alien priories were suspected of representing French interests in England.  King Edward III (reigned 1327 – 1377) saw these alien priories not only as a political threat, but also as a source of income. Some were suppressed, with Edward confiscating their properties and lands, and others were ordered to pay an often crippling annual fee for survival.  Wenlock was able to pull together the funds to pay, amounting to more than half of the priory’s total annual income, and in the late 13th century, took the decision to cut its links with its mother house, La Charité, to swear loyalty as English nationals to the Crown, and to pay a massive one-off fee to secure this new “denizen status.”  Tensions remained, as La Charité was by no means ready to accept the situation, and the connection was not fully terminated until the end of the 15th century.

The Anglo-Saxon Monastery dedicated to St Milberga

Excavations have established that the Cluniac Wenlock Priory was established on the site of a much earlier monastery that had been established in around AD 675, closing in around the 10th century.  Both monks and nuns worshiped at the monastery, with each having their set of buildings including their own churches.  The monastery was dedicated to St Milburga, the patron saint of the original 7th century abbey, who continued to be venerated in the 12th century priory, just as at Chester the Anglo-Saxon St Werburgh was venerated in the Anglo-Norman Abbey of St Werburgh, now Chester Cathedral.  As with most Anglo-Saxon saints, not a great deal is known about St Milburga.  She was the eldest daughter of the King of Mercia, Merewalh, and was sent to be educated near Paris.  She arrived at Wenlock in 687 to succeed the presiding abbess of the nunnery, where she remained for three decades.  She became renowned for the miracles that she performed whilst at Wenlock.  She was supposed to have resurrected a dead child, to have banished geese that devastated the region’s cultivated fields, but she is best known for having floated her veil on a sunbeam.

 

Entering the site today – orienting yourself

Entering the nave from the west, with the piers running from west to east, the outline of the porch on your left, and the north and south transepts either side

Today you enter the priory from the west end, where the grand entrance would have stood.  This entrance was reserved for ceremonial occasions.  The public would normally have entered via a stone porch on the north side of the nave, whereas the monks would have entered via one of two entrances opening into the south side.   Entering from the west end gives you an excellent view of the church.  In front of you are the bases of piers (multi-shafted columns), flanked by twin side aisles.

Next, you see two tall opposing stone constructions to left and right, the north and south transepts.  Looking beyond the transepts, the church continues with a vast east end, with what would have been the choir, the presbytery and high altar and probably the shrine of st Mildeburge.  Beyond this, in the 14th century, a small Lady Chapel was added. Although some publications refer to a “traditional cruciform shape,” referring to the cross-shape created by the east end, the west end and protruding transepts, most monastic churches have an east end much shorter than the nave, giving it more of the shape of the crucifix; the church at Wenlock is therefore not entirely traditional.

Chapter House

The nave of the church makes up the north wall of the main cloister, which lies to its south, so if you look to your right, you will see an archway leading through to the cloister.  Buildings further along the line of the church, also to the right, are buildings that were built after the main cloister was established, including the infirmary and the prior’s lodging.

I started with a walk from one end of the church to the other, taking in both transepts, came back to the main cloister and then later went and had a look at the remains of the secondary cloister.  I’ve used that visiting order in the description below.

 

The Church

A multi-phase construction

The location, next to Farley Brook, which runs into the Severn four miles to the south, was important for supplying water to the fish ponds and for the monastery’s own water supply and drainage system.   The Anglo-Saxon church seems to have formed the foundations for Roger de Montgomery’s 1180 monastic church, after which a number of phases of construction can be identified.

The plan of Wenlock Priory. Source: McNeill 2020, English Heritage

The West End – the Nave, the Porch and the Upper Chamber

Entering from the west, you are following the approximate approach of the monks through their grand entrance, used only on special days of the religious calendar and for processions.  The long 8-bay nave with its octagonal plinths, probably built during the mid-13th century, was used by visitors to the priory and provided a suitably impression processional space.  Along the north wall, midway between the entrance and the crypt, was a porch that gave public access to the nave (the bottom courses of which mark its position), whilst the monks would usually enter from the cloister.  The nave was divided from the crossing and the east end presbytery, which were confined to the monks, by a stone screen that no longer remains.

One of the pier bases in the nave of the priory church at the west end of the church, with the garth on the other sideof the ruined wall, the cloister visible to the left

A very unusual architectural feature is found at the south side of the nave next to the west entrance.  A chamber sits over part of the south aisle, which is particularly low to accommodate the chamber above.  It is not recorded what this chamber was for, and although there are several ideas about its possible use, there is nothing to help choose between them.  The chamber is not open to the public.

The Upper Chamber, seen from the Cloister

Medieval tiles gathered together from around the site in the south aisle of the west transept.

Medieval tiles

 

The 3-storey Transepts and the Crypt

Flanking the crossing were two transepts, which give the priory its cruciform appearance.  These were used for chapels on the ground floor, where masses were held for the deceased.  There were three chapels in each transept.

The south transept

South Transept

The best preserved of the two transepts is the south transept, which was built in the 1230s and retains some attractive features of the 13th century church.  The archers are supported on massive columns, each consisting of eight vertical shafts, themselves supported on plinths.  The side walls seem massive and the reason is that above the level of the chapel arches they contained an internal passage, the triforium, and supported windows above, the clerestory, which allowed light into the south transept.  The end wall at the south has two decorative blind arches.

The west wall has one of the special features of the priory:  a set of narrow, pointed blind arches with two tiny blind arches between them, to hold candles.  A channel carved into the stone of the central arch indicates that this once held a water pipe, and was probably used as part of the monks’ ritual cleansing prior to liturgies.

Unique feature in the west wall of the south transept

The north transept

Opposite the south transept, the north transept is less well preserved, but reflects the south transept.  One of the chapels was excavated and revealed a skeleton accompanied by a ceramic chalice, thought to have been a medieval monk.

The crypt and possible sacristy

In the west wall there is a blocked entrance that once opened into a two-storey building, the remains of which can still be seen.  The upper level shares a wall with the south transept and retains three arched recesses, possibly the sacristy. The lower level of was a vaulted crypt whose function remains unknown.

The possible sacristy, backing on to the north transept

The crypt below the possible sacristy

The East End, the Treasury and the Lady Chapel

By 1320 the church was 105m long.  Divided from the west end of the church by a stone screen, the holy east end consists of 7 bays and was confined to the monks, and was where the high altar was located and where liturgies, masses for the souls of the dead and the Eucharist were performed.  Behind the high altar it is thought that the shrine of St Milburga was probably retained.  All that remains of the east end are the lowest tiers of wall and the plinths for the piers, but these manage to contribute to the sense of the sheer scale of the church as you look from one end to the other.

The Treasury

Just to the south of the presbytery was a seven-sided building now referred to as The Treasury, which is thought to have been built in the 15th century and was probably used to store valuable ritual items associated with special days in the religious calendar and the associated processions.

The Lady Chapel was a particular feature of 13th century churches when dedication to the Virgin Mary became an important feature of Christianity, and was frequently a somewhat untidy bolt-on to an existing arrangement.  This is the case at Wenlock, where a small protrusion was added to the east end.

The Main Cloister

The Garth with the walkway and lavabo

Lavabo in the foreground, looking towards the south transept and the Upper Chamber

The garth, the central green around which the main cloister walkway (which does not survive) and the cloister buildings were arranged would have been the centre of the most important part of the priory in the medieval period.  It could have served as a herb garden or as a peaceful area for contemplation. One of the oddities about the layout of the cloister at Wenlock, which is easier to see on the plan that it is on the ground, is that it is not a perfect square or rectangle.  The refectory cuts across the south end of the garth at a distinct angle, which is out of keeping with the line of the church or with the other two ranges that make up the cloister buildings.

 

Artist’s reconstruction of the lavabo. Source: information board at Wenlock Priory

Today the main feature of the garth that survives in ruined form, but was once a magnificent feature unparalleled in England, is the late 12th century lavabo.  Its remains were found during the 19th century, and although only a few elements were preserved intact, they give a good idea of how the lavabo would have appeared.  It consisted of a fountain arrangement of two upper bowls and a lower basin all of which sat within an arched octagonal structure.  It was decorated with carved panels whoing religious themes, two of which are now in the Much Wenlock Museum.  This is where the monks washed before eating.

The garth’s modern topiary bushes were established in the 19th century.  Opinion is divided about whether this is a positive addition or not, but it has become a component part of the site’s history.

Lavabo carving of Christ with St Peter and St Andrew on the Sea of Galilee. Source: English Heritage

The covered walkway, with open arches that offered light and views of the garth, provided a link between all the cloister buildings that formed the heart of the monastic establishment, where most of the monks spent most of their lives. The walkway no longer survives.  On three sides of the cloister, these are referred to as ranges.  Part of the church nave made up the fourth side.

The East Range

The magnificent Chapter House

The Chapter House, dating from the 12th century, is the jewel in the crown of the abbey.  Considerable investment was usually made in any order’s chapter house, where the community met daily to discuss the business of the monastery, but Cluniac chapter houses are characterized by their particularly elaborate architectural detail, which would have been picked out in full colour.  The blind arcading, a decorative feature emulating window arches, is particularly characteristic of Cluniac sites, although it appears in the architecture of other orders too.  Philip Wilkinson suggests that it was probably “one of the most magnificent rooms in Norman England” (p.35).

Entrance to the chapter house from the cloister

The Chapter House

Blind arcading in the Chapter House

Decorative features in the Chapter House

Romanesque lintel over blocked door in the Chapter House, probably moved here from a different part of the abbey

Decorative touches in the Chapter House

Imaginative reconstruction of how the Chapter House, with its painted arcading, might have looked. Source: English Heritage. See video at the end of the post.

The library with medieval floor tiles

The library on the left, with the Chapter House to its right

Although many monasteries had a book cupboard, the book room at Wenlcock is particularly generous.  The library dates to the 13th century, as does the central arch, but the other arches were added later.  Thanks to pigeons, it has been necessary to put up netting to protect this space, but this also protects the tiles from other general wear and tear.

13th century tiles from around the site have been gathered together here, and laid down at random in order both to preserve them under a roof, and to display them to advantage.  There are also two tombstones, also moved here from elsewhere, but their owners have not been identified.

Medieval tiles and tombstone, seen through netting that protects the tiles from pigeons

The South Range – the refectory

The south range was entirely taken up by the refectory, although only one wall survives.  Sometimes refectories were built perpendicular to the cloister to allow inclusion of other buildings, but others were like this one, running along the side of the cloister with room at each end for a kitchen and a warming house (the latter a small heated room where the monks could spend a little time to warm through during harsh winters).  An oddity is that the line of the refectory runs at an angle (see site plan above), meaning that the garth is not the conventional square or rectangle.

The West Range

The west range, which has now been lost, was used differently from one monastery to another, and could have been used for storage, for visitors, including pilgrims, and could also have been used as the prior’s quarters before a large dedicated building was completed in the 15th century to house the prior and infirmerer.

 

The Secondary Cloister and beyond

All of the extant buildings that make up the remaining secondary cloister are off-limits to the public, having been sold off after the Dissolution closed it in 1540 but the exterior of the infirmary and prior’s lodging ranges are visible from the east end of the church.  These are considerably modified from their 13th century origins, but are in the original positions of those buildings.  Both are now part of a private residence.

Once the main cloister had been built in stone, further wooden buildings could be replaced by new stone versions.  At Wenlock a secondary cloister was made up by another four ranges.  On the north side was the Infirmary  and the Infirmarer’s lodging.  On the east side was a chapel and the prior’s lodging, the latrines were on the south side and on the west was the continuation of the dormitory that also overlapped with the main cloister as part of the latter’s east range.

At the end of the monks’ dormitory was also a non-standard building that is now known as the Chamber Block and Hall.  The role of this is speculative but it is thought that it may have been reserved for high status visitors like the king, who is known to have visited the priory six times during his reign.

Further to the south and southwest there would also have been subsidiary service buildings including the brewery, bakery, stores and the buildings of the home farm.

Final Comments

It is fairly unusual to have so much of the original site plan preserved in the remaining architecture, even where this only survives as a few courses of stonework.  Wenlock Priory gives a much better idea of the complexity of well-endowed monastic establishments that many others around the country.  In addition, the extravagance of the Cluniac Order is clearly visible in both the size and the architectural detail of Wenlock Priory.

At the same time, much of the understanding of Wenlock Priory and its Early Medieval predecessor comes from excavations, which were carried out in 1901, the early 1960s and during the 1980s, and these findings survive mainly in the form of excavation reports.

This mixture of what can be observed on the ground and what derives from excavations is typical of medieval monastic sites.

 

Visiting

Entrance to the cloister

The Wenlock Priory is an attractive site beautifully maintained by English Heritage.  The former Prior’s Lodging and the Infirmary are privately owned and cannot be visited but are but visible from the English Heritage site.  There is a large car park. Details of ticket prices and parking fees are on the English Heritage website.  The most recent version of the English Heritage guidebook (by John McNeill, 2020) has some excellent site plans, an artist’s reconstruction and photographs, available from the nice little gift shop, but also available through online retailers if you want to read up the full details in advance of a visit.  The site is mainly all the level, and should be fully suitable for those with unwilliing legs. with a wary eye out for underfoot masonry.

Its postcode is TF13 6HS.  Don’t forget to check the opening days and times of the Much Wenlock Museum, which is a separate entity, and located within the village itself.

The site is near to other attractions, making it a great visit for a day out.  I visited Haughmond Abbey (built by Augustinian monks) and Wroxeter Roman City (posted about here) on the same day, and Ironbridge Gorge is a short drive away (although Ironbridge and its museums, posted about here, really take up a whole day in their own right).  For those with time on their hands, a nice-looking walk in reasonable weather, recommended by English Heritage, takes you from Much Wenlock to the Ironbridge.

 

Sources

Books and papers

Wenlock Priory 1798 by R. Paddey. Source: Government Art Collection

Angold, M.J., George C. Baugh, Marjorie M. Chibnall, D.C. Cox, D.T.W.Price, Margaret Tomlinson, B.S. Trinder 1973, ‘Houses of Cluniac monks: Abbey, later Priory, of Wenlock‘, in A History of the County of Shropshire: Volume 2, ed. A T Gaydon, R B Pugh (London, 1973), British History Online
https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/salop/vol2/pp38-47

Burton, Janet 1994. Monastic and Religious Orders in Britain. Cambridge University Press

McNeill, John 2020. Wenlock Priory. English Heritage

Pinnell, Julie 1999. Wenlock Priory. English Heritage

Platt, Colin 1995 (2nd edition). The Abbeys and Priories of Medieval England.  Chancellor Press

White, Carolinne 2008. The Rule of St Benedict. Penguin.

Wilkinson, Philip 2006.  England’s Abbeys. Monastic Buildings and Culture. English Heritage

==
Websites

English Heritage
Wenlock Priory
https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/wenlock-priory/
Walk: Wenlock Priory to the Iron Bridge Shropshire (4.5 miles/7.5km (2-3 hours walking, plus time to visit the properties)
https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/siteassets/home/members-area/exclusive-content/your-exclusive-content/walking-page-dec-20/wenlock-priory-to–the-iron-bridge-shropshire-v2.pdf
St Milburga
https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/wenlock-priory/history/st-milburga/

Historic England
Wenlock Priory
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1004779?section=official-list-entry

 

 

Day Trip: Misericords and other choir carvings at St Bartholomew’s, Tong, Shropshire

Introduction

This time last year I wrote a short 3-part series about misericords in the Chester-Wrexham area, at St Werburgh’s Abbey (now Chester Cathedral), St Andrew’s Church in Bebbington and All Saints in Gresford.  These are all terrific examples of misericords, in really excellent architectural contexts.  On my way back from a short break in Shropshire in October I passed Tong, which I have been meaning to visit for years, so dropped in. Tong is on the A41, just where the road meets the M54, and the church, St Bartholomew’s is literally a couple of seconds off the A41.  It is about an hour’s drive from the Chester area.  It’s a very small, pretty village, and the collegiate church seems disproportionately large, but there was an inhabited castle here, and it was well used in both medieval and Tudor times. The unusual name Tong appears in Domesday as “Tuange.”  Although there is no consensus on the subject, it may derive from a word meaning “fork in the river,” referring to a meeting place of two streams near the former castle.

Lady Isobel and Sir Fulke Pembrugge. Lady Isobel founded the church in 1409 on the death of her husband.

St Bartholomew’s is thought to have been the third church on the site.  It was built by Royal License from 1409, the year of the death of crusader Sir Fulke de Pembrugge, by Lady Isabel Pembrugge, his second wife. It was finished by about 1430.  Lady Isabel established it as a collegiate church, meaning that as well as the church there was a separate building that housed a small community of secular (non-monastic) priests.  There were five at Tong, plus one or two clerks, who were employed to say masses for the soul of Sir Fulke de Pembrugge, in order to reduce his time in Purgatory, as well as prayers for other deceased souls.  The priests also ran a school for village children and a hospital for the elderly and sick, slight ruins of which still survive.  Both Sir Fulke and Lady Isabel are buried in the church in an elaborate tomb, shown above.

The style of the church is Perpendicular Gothic, with the Golden Chapel added 100 years later as an extension in 1510.  It is possible that the arcading in the south side of the nave dated to an earlier, perhaps 13th century church, because the style is different, and could have been incorporated into the new church.  Quite unusually, there are no projecting transepts, so the footprint of the church is not cruciform.  An original porch projects from the nave, whilst on the opposite side a large vestry projects from the chancel.  The rest of the church and its history will be discussed on a future post.

Misericords are “mercy seats,” first employed in monastic establishments, and carved onto the underside of hinged seats in choir stalls.  When the seat is down, it can be sat on as normal, but when leaning up against the back of the choir stall it has a little protrusion on which a monk or nun could prop themselves during some of the long daily offices that were typical of monastic and collegiate life.  Many of these feature elaborate carved decoration.  The earliest ones in Britain were carved in monasteries in the 13th century, and later on they found their way into collegiate establishments, cathedrals and, later still, parish churches.  Whether in monastery, cathedral or church, they could include a variety of subjects, religious, classical, pagan, chivalric and naturalistic.  You can read much more about them on my introductory post on the subject here and my round-up post here, looking at who might have been responsible for the themes chosen, who may have paid for the misericords, why they were contained within the most sacred part of the church and how they might be understood.
==

The misericords at St Bartholomew’s, Tong

The stone elements of the St Bartholomew’s choir, including the piscina (shallow basin used for cleaning communion and other vessels) in the sanctuary or chancel and sedilia (stone seat), also in the sanctuary all date to between 1410 and 1430.  The oak choir stalls would have been inserted only after the stonework had been completed, probably towards the end of the 1420s.

There are two sets of L-shaped eight choir stalls, facing each other with the entrance to the choir separating them.  Originally each would have had a misericord and today there is only apparently one missing, with no subsequent replacements, with only some slight restoration work carried out.  There are also with three-light traceried back panels, carved frieze, and desks, as well as carved bench ends, desk ends and carved poppy-heads, all dating to the early 15th century.  The published guide to St Bartholomew’s adds that one of the bench-ends seems to be a much simpler and less skilled example, and was probably a later replacement for one that was damaged.

Most of the misericords are botanical, but there are other themes, some of them natural and some of them apparently pagan, such as the face above.  Pagan faces, or grotesques, are not unusual, but although they are often difficult to interpret. Two show winged angels, one apparently in armour holding a shield, the other holding a book or coat of arms, and another apparently depicts a castle.  These may be references to the family who built the church.  Sir Fulke de Pembrugge, for example, was a crusader, and the family lived in the nearby castle.

 

It is sod’s law that the last of the misericords shown above is the one most discussed in books and is the one that I took three attempts to photograph and still came out dismally.  This is the only one that represents a specific scene: the New Testament story of the Annunciation.  In the middle is a lily growing in a vessel with two blooms and, at its centre, Christ on the cross. This arrangement is flanked on one side by the Angel Gabriel and on the other by the Virgin Mary, each of whom hold pieces of a scroll that records the Angel’s greeting and Mary’s reply.  The supporters may either represent doves of peace or the Holy Spirit.

 

Details of poppy heads (on the tops of bench ends and desk ends). Click to enlarge

There are numerous churches in the Midlands that could have provided the general idea for misericords at St Bartholomew’s.  For a list of misericords elsewhere in the Midlands see Misericords of Midlands Churches page on the misericords.co.uk website.  It is probable that many other misericords were lost when Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries.

===

Visiting

Check the St Bartholomew’s Church website for up-to-date opening hours and events that may close it to the public, but at the time of writing it is open daily, and in the summer months runs heritage tours that do not need to be booked in advance.  The church’s post code is TF11 8PW but Tong is almost impossible to miss, just seconds away from the A41 immediately before the M54 roundabout.

When there are no events, it is easy to park on the quiet road outside the church.

There is absolutely tons to see at the church, which is a feast for the eyes.  The 1515 Golden Chapel alone is a remarkable thing with its fan vaulting, but the many other early Tudor monuments are also spectacular.  See the church’s Heritage links on the above site to explore what it has to offer the visitor.  There is also a guide book that you can purchase at the church for £2.00 (cash into an honesty box), at the time of writing, which is great value with excellent photographs and good explanatory text, although it skims over the choir carvings.

If you want to make a day trip of it, nearby is the marvelous RAF Museum at Cosford, around 10 minutes away, and the the small but attractive White Ladies Augustinian Priory, also around 10 minutes away. 

 

Sources

See the end of Part 3 of my original series on misericords for sources on the general subject of medieval misericords.

The St Bartholemew’s misericords are referenced in the following works:

Books and papers

Anderson, M.D. 1954. Misericords. Medieval Life in English Woodcarving. Penguin Books

Anon, 2002. St Bartholomew’s Church, Tong, Shropshire. ISBN 1 872665 59 4.
(Almost no information about the misericords but some background information about the medieval church, to which the misericords date)

Grössinger, Christa. 2007.  The World Upside-Down. English Misericords.  Harvey Miller Publishers

Websites

St Bartholomew’s Church, Tong
https://tong-church.org.uk/
History (very top-level)
https://tong-church.org.uk/history/
Tong’s timeline
https://tong-church.org.uk/tong-parish/timeline/

Historic England
Church of St Bartholomew
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1053606?section=official-list-entry

The Medieval Bestiary
Excerpts from Francis Bond, Wood Carvings in English Churches: Misericords (pages 208-214). This text is believed to be in the public domain.  CHAPTER XVII: ON THE USE OF MISERICORDS – NOMENCLATURE
https://bestiary.ca/prisources/pstexts4837.htm

misericords.co.uk
Home page
https://misericords.co.uk/

 

 

Day Trip: The Iron Bridge and the Ironbridge Gorge World Heritage Site

Introduction

The Iron Bridge is the star attraction of the Ironbridge area, the focal point of the UNESCO World Heritage Site (awarded in 1986), and managed since 1991 by the Severn Gorge Countryside Trust, which includes 52 sites, 60 historic structures, 230 hectares of woodland, 25 acres of wild flower meadow, 26kms of paths and 8 kms of bridleways.  This includes at least twelve museums and managed sites, some of which are open all year round, others only seasonally.  This makes the Ironbridge Gorge a splendid place for an extended visit as well as for day trips to selected destinations.

It can be easy to come away with a fragmented view of Ironbridge Gorge whilst driving between the bridge and the different museums and villages.  Once known collectively as Coalbrookdale, the immediate valley area is now divided into Ironbridge, Jackfield, Coalport and Coalbrookdale with outlying attractions in the surrounding area.  However, all areas are united by the underlying geology that was revealed by glacial action and became the source of raw materials for manufacturing in the area, both of ironworks that produced industrial scale projects like the bridge itself as well as decorative objects for home and office; and clay-based household objects such as tiles, and finer decorative china.

The first engineer and entrepreneur to exploit the full potential of the Ironbridge area’s geology for industry was Abraham Darby I who had a small furnace in the area and who in 1709 successfully experimented with carbonized coal, called coke, as fuel instead of charcoal that depended on less volumes of mature woodlands and required much less labour.  Abraham Darby I’s formula for iron was a ratio of 600kg coke to 600kg of ironstone and 250g limestone, all of which were available locally, and produced 250kg iron.  Efficiencies in the iron manufacturing industry were further improved with refinement of coke production and the introduction of steam-powered engines later in the 18th century.
==

From the leaflet “Exploring Ironbridge Gorge” showing the key components of the visitor attractions today

The other essential geographical feature was the river Severn, which flows through the Ironbridge Gorge.  The gorge was itself formed by the pressure from a glacier, that sat over much of Shropshire, on the underlying trapped water.  This water, with nowhere else to go,  forced itself out from under the glacier through the soft limestone of what are now named Benthall Edge and Lincoln Hill, forming the steep-sided channel that the river occupies today.  In the 18th and 19th centuries the water from the Severn provided both power, first to water wheels and then steam engines, as well as cooling for many of the machines and as part of many of the industrial processes.  It was also a major transport link between the Ironbridge area, the Bristol Channel and the rest of the world.  Looking at the river today in its wildlife and heritage setting, it is difficult to imagine how much pollution there must have been both in the air and in the water, produced by the furnaces, forges and kilns, as well as the chemical waste.

Source: The Iron Trail, Ironbridge Gorge (leaflet), Severn Gorge Countryside Trust

The Iron Bridge

The building of a cast-iron bridge was proposed by Thomas Farnolls Pritchard 1723-1777), who also designed the prototype.  Up until the building of the bridge, which opened in 1781, most of the traffic across the river was by ferry; the nearest bridge was the medieval Buildwas bridge next to Buildwas abbey, 3.8km upstream from the site of the new Iron Bridge. The connection between the north and south sides of the river was essential, allowing the movement of raw materials, people and supplies.  The bridge was an obvious solution to the problem of a river that was vulnerable to changing levels and seasonal weather extremes such as low levels, floods and high winds.

Thomas Farnollis Pritchard by C. Blackberd c.1765

Thomas Farnolls Pritchard specialized in the restoration of prestigious houses. Although he had built bridges in wood and stone, none had been as ambitious as his Ironbridge proposal, and this was the first attempt to use cast iron to span a gap this wide. the idea was to use a single arch to span the widest section of the river, avoiding piers that would impede navigation.  He sent his proposal for a cast iron bridge to John “Iron-Mad” Wilkinson, an obvious sponsor for this type of innovative project.  Wilkinson in turn discussed the matter with Abraham Darby III, who instantly saw the potential for the bridge not merely as a means of spanning the river, but of marketing his company and the benefits of the Ironbridge area as a whole, at that time known collectively as Coalbrookdale.  A committee was formed to take the project forward.

The only known image of the bridge under construction, by Elias Martin (1739-1818) painted in the summer of 1779

An Act of Parliament was granted in 1776, and shares were soon issued to raise funds. Work began in 1777.  The iron for the bridge was cast by Darby at his works, but there is no record as to which of his three furnace sites was responsible.  It is probable that the work was shared out to all three, spreading the load to ensure that existing and new commercial contracts continued to be delivered.  It is known that wooden scaffolding was employed in the construction of the iron bridge, but the exact process of construction is unrecorded.  The painted inscription on the ironwork that spans the top of the bridge reads “This bridge was cast at Coalbrook-Dale and erected in the year MXDCCLXXIX [1779].”  Ribs were cast in two pieces and joined in the middle.  Observation of the bridge’s construction shows that it was assembled using both metalwork techniques and joinery techniques such as mortise and tenon joints and dovetailing.  The ironwork was flanked by and set into stone abutments.

Once the basic frame was built, spanning 100ft 6ins (c.31m)  the scaffolding was removed in 1779 and a road was constructed over the top and a small toll-house added on the southern side.  The bridge eventually opened in 1781, on New Year’s Day.  Although it was built closely in the spirit of Pritchard’s original plan, several changes were made.  Pritchard did not live to see the bridge completed but his family were duly paid for his contribution.

The bridge had cost a massive £6000, twice the estimate.  Darby had taken on the bulk of this financial burden.  Although he was quick to use the marketing potential of the bridge deploying it as an advertising emblem, and visitors came from all over the world to see it, neither this nor the tolls for use of the bridge were able to make up the substantial shortfall.  Darby was unable to make up his losses and the bridge left him in debt for the rest of his life, with both business and properties mortgaged.

Unlike Buildwas and other Severn bridges, the Iron Bridge  survived the Great Flood of 1795, unlike the medieval stone Buildwas Bridge, proving the durability of a cast iron bridge.  Thomas Telford had repaired the Buildwas bridge in 1779 but during 1795 it was damaged beyond repair and, taking Ironbridge as his model, Telford replaced it with his own iron bridge.

Over the following century repairs were carried out as required, but during the early 20th century its stability was questioned and its demolition was suggested in 1926.  Fortunately, it was decided to save the bridge and was limited to pedestrian use from 1934, and was listed as a National Monument.  In 1950 it passed into the hands of Shropshire County Council.  Substantial restoration work has been carried out since 1972 to stabilize and reinforce the bridge.  It is now in the care of English Heritage.

A footpath runs under the bridge on the Ironbridge village side, allowing a good view of some of the metalwork.

The small town of Ironbridge began to develop in the later 18th century.  Today Ironbridge village is small but attractive, with a row of shops, cafes and pubs lining the road that runs along Severn between Ironbridge and Coalbrookdale, with houses, a massive church and other community buildings climbing the hill above the river in Ironbridge.  I can recommend the ice cream 🙂

The Museums

I have already posted about the glorious Jackfield Tile Museum here, with lots of photos, but there are at least total of twelve museums and related visitor attractions in the Ironbridge area, and I will post about the other four museums that I visited on future posts.  I would have visited the Broseley Pipeworks and the Tar Tunnel, but neither were open, so I plan to visit those when they re-open.  The Darby Houses were also closed.  Nor did I visit Enginuity, which appears to be geared towards children, but actually looks like a lot of fun, if you are child-friendly, with plenty of interactive activities demonstrating engineering principals.  Blist’s Hill Victorian Town just wasn’t my cup of tea, but the recreation of everyday life in 1900 Shropshire sounds like a good initiative.

From the “Ironbridge Valley of Invention” leaflet, 2024

==

A have talked about the Jackfield Tile Museum in detail on a previous post.  Don’t miss it.  In the world of museums, this is a rock star.

Part of the Coalbrook China Museum

The Coalport China Museum to the east of of Ironbridge and Jackfield consists of two areas of interest – the displays of decorated china ware made in the local area, and the surviving furnaces in which many of them were made, which you can enter and walk around.  Although the china is worth seeing, partly because it demonstrates the many shapes, textures and patterns that were produced, I found the splendid industrial heritage of this site the most evocative and engaging part of the experience, bringing the sheer vast materiality of these enterprises to life.  This part of the Severn valley would have been full of these furnaces.  There is good car parking.  Ticket prices are on the Ironbridge website, and don’t forget to ask for an English Heritage discount if you  are a member.

The Toll House, free of charge, is set just to the south of the Ironbridge near to the car park, is now a museum of the bridge, telling it story.  This is mainly a matter of information boards rather than objects on display, but is very informative.  It also serves as a ticket office for those wishing to buy family tickets and day passes (although you can also buy tickets on an ad hoc basis when you visit individual museums).

To the east, easily reached by walking along the wide pathway that follows the Severn, is the Museum of the Gorge, also free of charge.  There is a small car park next to it.  The exterior of the building is fabulous, and there are some great internal features, and there are information boards about the history of the building and the conservation work, as well as a selection of reproductions of historic maps of Shropshire.

The Old Furnace at the Iron Museum

Up the hill is the splendid Coalbrookdale Museum of Iron.  The museum captures the essence of the area’s iron production output, from geology and early history via the bridge itself, including some excellent original images of the Ironbridge, via civil engineering equipment to a surprising and elaborate array of domestic items.  On the museum site is also the substantial and impressive remains of the the Old Furnace, some of which has been turned into an indoor feature.  Like the China Museum, this is a splendid mix of museum displays and well preserved and explained industrial archaeology.

Not shown on the above map is the Bedlam furnace, half way between Jackfield and Iron bridge on the north side of the river, which can be viewed from the laybay in front of it and is well worth visiting, partly because although there is little of it left, it was the subject of Philip de Loutherberg’s famous 1801 painting.

“Coalbrookdale by Night” by Philippe Jacques de Loutherbourg, 1801. Open coke hearths give off vivid flames and smoke. Archetypal image of the Industrial Revolution. From a colour transparency in the Science Museum Photographic Archive, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 Licence.

 

Visiting

Wherever you are, keep an eye open for leaflets, as some of these have some very helpful information, including chronological charts, maps and self-guided trails to some of the features that are beyond the museums.

The bridge

The bridge is open to visitors all year round, assuming that no restoration or repair work is taking place.  The opening times for the toll house, which acts as a museum for the bridge, can be found on the Ironbridge Gorge website.  Extensive pay and display parking for Ironbridge is available on the south side of the river, which allows you to choose how long you are going to stay.  This is handy if you just want to spend a short time looking at the bridge and browsing in the village but also allows you to stay longer if you want to walk along to to Coalbrookdale to visit the Museum of the Gorge museum and up the shallow hill to visit Enginuity and the Coalbrookdale Museum of Iron.

The museums

The Iron musuem

All the Ironbridge Gorge museums are covered on one website – Ironbrige Valley of Invention.   This inexplicably has very few images of what’s on display, and suffers from Russian doll syndrome, with pages buried within pages, but the information on days when the museums are open and closed (changes seasonally) and the opening times are there if you look for them.  Some of the museums are closed completely at certain times of the year (such as the Tar Tunnel and the Broseley Tobacco Pipe Works).

Note that if you are a member of English Heritage there is a discount on ticket prices, but you will need to ask for it.

Other sites to visit in the area

This is a rich area for destinations to visit, including five medieval abbeys a relatively short drive away, a number of National Trust properties and only a little further afield, Shrewsbury makes for a rewarding day out with the abbey church, the excellent Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery and the attractive medieval and Georgian architecture.  Not far away is the RAF Museum at Cosford, just outside Telford (my post about it is here), and whilst there, the Church of St Bartholemew at Tong with its lovely medieval choir, its elaborate tombs and the remarkable Tudor chapel and is crammed full of interest and just a 10 minute drive away.

St Bartholemew’s Church, Tong

 

Sources:

Books, booklets and papers

2019 edition (no author or reference number).  Exploring Ironbridge Gorge (booklet). The Ironbridge Gorge Museum Trust Ltd.

Jones, C. 1989. Coal, Gas and Electricity. In (ed.) Pope, R. Atlas of British Social and Economic History Since c.1700. Routledge

Mathias, P. 2001 (second edition). The First Industrial Nation. The Economic History of Britain 1700-1914. Routledge.

Mokyr, Joel 1981 (2nd edition). Technological change 1700-1830.   In (eds.) Roderick Floud and Deidre McCloskey, The Economic History of Britain since 1700.  Volume 1: 1700-1860. Cambridge University Press

Osborne, R. 2013. Iron, Steam and Money. The Making of the Industrial Revolution. The Bodley Head.

Leaflets

Undated leaflet (no reference number). The Ironbridge and Town. The Ironbridge Gorge Museum Trust Ltd.

Undated leaflet (no reference number). The Iron Trail, Ironbridge Gorge. Severn Gorge Countryside Trust

2024 leaflet (no reference number). Ironbridge Valley of Invention. The Ironbrige Gorge Museum Trust Ltd.

Websites

Ironbridge Valley of Invention
Official website
https://www.ironbridge.org.uk/

UNESCO pages for Ironbridge Gorge
UNESCO World Convention
https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/371/

 

History in Garden Objects #13 – Sherds of spongeware pottery

Spongeware motif showing squirrels and generic floral motifs, from a garden near Chester

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

It would have been surprising if there had been no spongeware found in the garden, because it was ubiquitous in the 19th century, which most of the other garden fragments date to.  What is surprising is that only two small pieces turned.  This is a tiny number compared to other low-cost standard blue and white transfer work that has emerged from my garden, such as willow pattern and mocha ware. So I have supplemented my own pieces by those found in my friend Helen’s garden, a few miles outside Chester. Helen’s pieces are particularly nice, with a row of squirrels around the edge of the plate.

Sherd from my garden in Churton

If, as a child, you ever made shaped potato and sponge stamps at school, dipping them into paint and stamping them onto paper to create patterns and pictures, you will be very familiar with the idea behind the process.  Instead of being painted or placed onto the object as a transfer, the patterns and other images were stamped with a sponge shape that was attached to a wooden handle, that made repeat patterns easy to achieve, but were also suited to scenes featuring individual subjects and motifs.  Once the pattern was applied, the pottery was fired, which hardened the pottery and set the glaze, fixing the pattern.

An interview on the Bo’Ness Pottery website with Margaret Finlay who worked from 1916 to 1927 at two Scottish potteries describes how she carried out spongeware decoration:

Q. Could you describe fully what work you did?

A. I was in the Sponging and you had a wheel.  The base was on the floor and there was a stack up from it and there was a round wooden thing on the top and when you worked that you worked it with this hand and you did your sponging with this one, and you had
an arm rest and you could do your colourings with the plates for the different coloured stuff you had.  You had a bit sponge in every one of these things and you put it on your pattern on this hand and then changed it over to this one and you could put that on with the sponge.  Every time you worked it you turned the wheel round with your fingers underneath and you turned it round and got the pattern on.  If you were going to put lines round plates or anything you had a wee brush, long to a point and you put your arm on there (the rest) and you turned this round (the wheel) and when you were turning this round this was going all the time and your hand was making the line round it.  We used to have bowls lying beside us and when this sponge was about finished with you used to  wash it then re-do it for the next plates that came on or the dishes that came on.

Detail of the squirrel plate

Spongeware objects featured a much more informal type of design than transferware, giving them a rustic, home-made appearance that became very popular in Britain, some parts of Europe and particularly in the U.S. and Canada.  It was almost certainly first produced in southern Scotland, in potteries around Glasgow and Edinburgh from around 1835.  Manufacturing of spongeware spread to England and Wales by the end of the 19th century, including Staffordshire, and in some parts of the U.S.  Spongeware went out of fashion in around 1930, but was revived in the 1970s, and continues to be manufactured today.

The other piece of spongeware from my Churton garden

It is almost impossible to track it back to particular potteries and to date it, for a number of reasons.  First, it was almost never marked with the pottery’s stamp.  This is partly because it was so mass-produced that pottery’s were not interested in claiming any credit for it, and partly because it was only made during periods of difficulty, when potteries were producing it only as a quick win for quick sale, and had no wish to attach their names to it.  Second, popular styles could be retained in production across a number of potteries for several years, meaning that it is impossible to attach stylistic trends to certain potteries or time periods.  Finally, the sponges were often designed by itinerant potters who sold them in to established potteries, and the same designs could turn up at different potteries at different times.  19th century spongeware appears on plates, cups and saucers, and jugs.

Squirrel plate from Kelly et al, pl.33, p.19. No pottery mark was made, so no details are known.

The earliest spongeware designs seem to have consisted on loosely geometric dots and circles as well as indeterminate shapes.  These were followed by generically botanical forms.  The earliest spongewares featured blues and reds, followed by greens.  Animals, birds and identifiable plants soon became popular, and purples and browns were added to the palette.  Pink, yellow and other colours were less popular, although black features from the 1870s.  By the 1870s improvements included hard-edged sponges allowing greater precision in designs.  During the First World War patriotic themes became popular.

None of the sherds found in my garden or Helen’s can be pinned down to a pottery, an area or even a date.  I had hopes of the squirrels, but although Kelly et al show one (page 19, pl.33) it too is unmarked and the authors were unable to narrow it down to a particular place or time.

Modern small mug with red squirrel motif, from Brixton Pottery, from their portfolio of 500 spongeware designs, and 60 pottery shapes

Sources

Books and Papers

Brooks, Alisdair M. 2000. The comparative analysis of late 18th and 19th century ceramics – A transatlantic perspective.  Unpublished D.Phil, University of York, June 2000
https://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/10888/1/326550.pdf

Kelly, H.E., Arnold, A. and Kowalsky, Dorthy E. 2001. Spongeware 1835-1935. Makers, Marks and Patterns. Schiffer Publishing
https://archive.org/details/spongeware1835190000kell/mode/2up?view=theater (available to “borrow” free of charge)

Neale, Gillian. 2005. Miller’s Encyclopedia of British Transfer-Printed Pottery Patterns 1790-1930. Octopus Publishing Group

Websites

Bo’mess Pottery
Margaret Finlay
http://bonesspottery.co.uk/fim.html

Brixton Pottery
https://www.brixtonpottery.com/about-us

 

The squirrel-themed spongeware as it was found

Sun and Fire – Life and death at the dawn of history. Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery, 2/11/24 – 30/04/25

This looks like a must-see exhibition at the Shrewsbury Museum & Art Gallery. On my to-do list:

Sat 2 Nov, 2024 – Wed 30 Apr, 2025

From the museum’s website:

Experience life in Shropshire between 4500 and 2000 years ago. That’s roughly the time from 2500 BCE until the Romans invaded Britain in 43 CE.

Before the Romans came, people in Britain didn’t use writing. That means there’s a lot we don’t know about them. But they left many objects and other traces in the Shropshire landscape and by examining these closely, we can try to work out what their lives were like. Come and see how we can tell that heat was vital to them. Find out how they used fire to make beautiful and useful objects, to cook and to cremate their dead.

Explore our interactive exhibition and learn how we once celebrated the sun with huge stone circles and bright gold objects. We can’t be sure why they did some of these things. We can only guess what they thought and believed. But we do know that in lots of ways these people were like us, with bodies and senses like ours. They felt the heat of flames on their skin and the sun’s warmth on their faces. Their lives were full of sensations, sights, sounds and scents.

Full details, including opening times and ticket prices on the Museum’s website at:
https://www.shropshiremuseums.org.uk/event/sun-fire-life-and-death-at-the-dawn-of-history/

Day trip: The Jackfield Tile Museum, near Ironbridge, Shropshire

 Introduction

Craven Dunnill and Co

At the top of my to-do list for my short break to Shropshire in October was the Jackfield Tile Museum.  I wanted to see all the Ironbridge area museums themed around the Industrial Revolution, and managed to do so, but I have a great love of tiles, and since I moved up to this area have been dying to visit the museum in the village of Jackfield, next to the river Severn.  It was even better than I had expected.  To get the most out of this museum, you have to really love Victorian and Edwardian design, because this is a celebration of the tiles produced during the late 18th, 19th and early 20th centuries, but if you do, it is a superb experience.

The museum is beautifully thought out, very well lit, and the tiles are presented in a way that allows them to be appreciated and understood not only as designs, but as the products of specific manufacturing processes, as the result of industrial innovation and as the output of very proficient commercial drive.  It is amazing what went in to making tiles and mosaics and turning them into a commercially viable product for both private homes and public buildings.

Craven Dunnill and Co

As well as original display cases and tile arrangements that show how the tiles were arranged to show to potential buyers, there are rooms showing development in artistic and craft styles (the Style Gallery) and reconstructions of entire rooms that used tiles as the major component of their decorative schemes.  There are also reminders that the tile-works also made plates, vases and other decorative items.  The museum also holds the John Scott Collection of tiles.

The impressively long 1872 building, the original Craven Dunnill and Co tile-works, is occupied partly by the museum and partly by a working tile-works.  Today’s Craven Dunnill is a successful commercial venture building on the successes of its 19th century predecessors, a very nice link between the building’s heritage and its present manufacturing activities.

Craven Dunnill and Co

Apologies for some of the photographs.  There is excellent lighting in the museum, but this sometimes makes it difficult to photograph without reflections, and many of the photographs have big patches of bright light on them.  Some of the angles are a bit odd too, as I tried to lean away from the reflections.  It didn’t help that I was in a bright fuchsia-pink coat, which reflected in the display cabinet glass!

Visiting details (with links to opening times, ticket prices, and parking details etc) are at the end of the post, as usual.

The length of the building reflects the way in which tiles were produced via a series of stages from east to west, from preparation of the clay to the finished product

The museum is arranged into different themed areas, which explain both different aspects of the Jackfield tile-works itself and the development in the 19th century of tiles and how they were marketed and sold, and what sort domestic, commercial and public locations they adorned.

Entrance, showing replica of one of the Craven, Dunnill and Co commissions

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Introductory Gallery

One of the original 19th century floors of the Craven Dunnill and Co tile-works, where prospective customers entered to view tiles in the trade showroom.

The self-guided tour starts with information boards describing the background to the tile industry and its commercial development from the 17th century, when the area was famous for its clay tobacco pipe manufacturing works at Broseley.  By the 1720s there were several small potteries in Jackfield, taking advantage of locally available raw materials and the proximity of the river for power and transportation.  There had been a pottery on the Craven and Dunnill site since 1728.  The railway arrived in the valley in 1862, with a siding for Jackfield and stops at Coalport and Ironbridge, improving connections and the speed with which products could be shifted to market.  The expansion of local industries followed, and two of the largest Victorian tile factories in the world were built next to the railway:  Craven, Dunnill and Co in 1875 and Maw and Co in 1883.  Tiles were valued not only for their decorative value but, in a period that was just getting to grips with the importance of hygiene, were easy to clean.  By 1881 Craven Dunnill and Co had 94 workers including 53 men, 15 women and 25 youths.

Craven Dunnill and Co

Mosaics on the stairway up to the the trade showroom, displaying the skills of the tile-works

Craven Dunnill and Co

Craven Dunnill and Co

The Trade Showroom

The first gallery, The Trade Showroom, is the display area of the Craven Dunnill and Co. tile-works, where architects, interior decorators and their customers could view catalogues, but could also see samples of the company’s tiles wherever they looked.  Today’s layout preserves one of the company’s original display cabinets, and the tiles on the walls, including floor and wall tiles, are based on images of this room as it was in the 19th century.  Display cabinets in the middle of the room show other aspects of the company’s operations.  On this floor there are also reconstructions of the offices that would have existed in the building in the Victorian period, with recordings that you can listen to, capturing accounts of personal memories of the tile-works in the past.

On of the original display cabinets

 

A design book by Owen Gibbons from 1881. Gibbons and his brother taught at the Coalbrookdale School of Art, producing many tile designs

Mosaic cutter

 

Style Gallery

The Style Gallery offers a eye-dazzling view of the sheer number of fashions in tile design that trended during the Victorian period.  It is a reflection not only of how the Victorians were interested both in referring to and interpreting the familiar past, and reinventing the present but of how some of these styles employed imagery from the Far East and and the Middle East.

Both companies used well-known designers for some of their output, but much of the design work was done by in-house designers, some of whom were secured from the Coalbrookdale School of Art.  This was a rare opportunity for women to enter industry as skilled artisans.

 

William de Morgan

Examples from a series of 7 Art Pottery vases by Walter Crane for Maw and Co, 1889

 

Tiles in Everyday Spaces

This area of the museum is superb, recreating some of the real-world contexts in which tiles manufactured were employed.  It was great to see the Covent Garden tube station recreation, because that was my tube station for several years when I worked for a company on Long Acre.  And if I could have had a glass or two at that wonderful tiled bar, what a great destination that would have been!

Butcher’s shop, Ripon by Alfred Potter for Maw and Co

Washstand by Maw and Co., c.1883

Long Gallery

The Long Gallery is elegantly displayed and beautifully designed, showing both sides of individual tiles, and demonstrating the variety of methods and techniques as well as styles and designs manufactured locally.  Each of the displays shows a different decorating technique accompanied by tiles, with both front and back display, that illustrate that particular technique or method.

 

From the Long Gallery to the John Scott Gallery

Between the Long Gallery and the John Scott Gallery is a corridor with views into the historic mould store, and a panel on the corridor wall consisting of more historic moulds.  These all have relief patterns that were drawn on and then hand-carved.  To make the tile, the clay was pressed or poured into the mould, and then fired.  Once it had cooled it could be glazed, before being fired again.  The ones stored here are part of the commercial and industrial heritage of Maw and Co and Dunnill Craven and Co.

 

 

John Scott Gallery

Part of a six-tile panel showing a peony design, attributed to Kate Faulkner, Morris and Co., 1880s

Slightly anomalous, because this is a collection that does not relate specifically to the Ironbridge area, this gallery displays the collection of John Scott, who began collecting tiles in 1968 and continued until he died in 2020.  His collection, gifted to the museum in 2013, includes over 1700 pieces, of which an elegant portion are displayed here.  I really liked his statement, shown on one of the information panels, that he collected only what he both liked and could afford.  He was collecting for his own pleasure, not to build an illustrious collection.  By the time he died, his collection had become a remarkable reflection of the history of tile design and manufacturing.
===

Uroboros, sometimes signifying eternity. By C.F.A Voysey. Pilkington

 

William de Morgan

 

One of six panels designed for Membland Hall, Devon. William Morris and William de Morgan 1876

Fish and water lilies. Relief-moulded tile panel design by C.F.A. Voysey, Pilkington

Art Nouveau tile panel by John Wadsworth. Minton Works c.1910. The repeat is achieved with just one tile.

Exterior buildings

Once you leave the museum, you will walk out through some of the original buildings that supported the works, including the massive kilns and storage facilities.  From here, you can re-enter the museum to visit the gift shop and the cafe before leaving.

 

When you leave, the church next to the tile-works is well worth a look, with a partially tiled interior.

Final Comments

All of the museums in the immediate Ironbridge area are well thought out and beautifully presented, and I enjoyed them all enormously.  The Jackfield Tile Museum was the one that most closely demonstrated domestic and commercial artistic tastes throughout England.

The museum offers an impressively detailed insight into multiple aesthetic tastes captured by Victorian tiles and mosaics, showing dozens of them to ensure that visitors are able to appreciate the sheer versatility and exuberance of Victorian taste.  Seeing the tiles built into pieces of furniture, and used to create entire spaces like churches, bars, bathrooms and the Covent Garden tube station brought the tiles to life, showing them both as aesthetic decisions and practical architectural applications. 

Even though the visual impact of the tiles was always going to steal the show, the museum does not neglect explanations of the really fascinating history of the local tile-works, the development of the manufacturing technologies that went into creating tiles and mosaics, and details about the commercial challenges involved in the marketing and sale of both.

I really loved it.


Visiting

Be careful with the opening days, because when I visited it was closed on Monday and Tuesday, but these days, and the times, change depending on the time of year. If you are intending to visit other museums too, it is worth checking out if they are open at the time of year of your visit.  The Broseley clay tobacco pipe works, for example, was closed for the autumn-winter season, which was disappointing.  You can find prices and opening times on the museum website here, and if you want to see other museums too there is a page with all the opening times in the related museums here.

If you are a member of English Heritage be sure to hand over your card, whether asked for it or not, to obtain a 15% discount.

There’s no guide book, which is a shame.

Jackfield Museum has a car park, which is chargeable via some sort of online arrangement that is loosely described on the website here.  I was staying nearby so walked down to the museum and didn’t need to get to grips with the parking system, but I suggest asking at the ticket desk if you have trouble with it.

Nearby there’s an excellent pub called the Black Swan with tables overlooking the Severn outside, and a cosy, friendly interior with excellent pub food.  It has a really super, mellow atmosphere and is a two-minute drive away, with plenty of free parking.  It has no website but it has a Facebook page and if you Google it, the phone number will come up.  It is quite small, so best to book by phone or in person.

==

 

 

 

 

Day Trip: The RAF Museum Midlands at Cosford, near Telford

Sopwith 1 1/2 Strutter (replica) in Hangar 2

Even if aircraft and aviation history are not really the first things that spring to your mind when you are looking for a museum to visit on a day out in the general area, the RAF Museum at Cosford offers a thoroughly absorbing experience.  Aeronautical development has progressed so rapidly since the early 20th century that the first engineers and pilots might well find all the new innovations, capabilities and capacities that are on display at the museum fairly miraculous, and these have been significantly surpassed by much newer models.

This was my third visit.  The first visit was with my father who as a school boy at Calday Grammar on the Wirral had loved being in the Air Cadets, and went on to do his National Service in the RAF.  The second was with a friend whose father had served as a  Flight Engineer from before his 20th birthday during the Second World War, working and flying on Avro Lancasters.  Both my father and my friend brought away very personal experiences of the museum, but even without  these intimate connections, the RAF museum at Cosford is a rich journey into aeronautical history.  There is splendid innovation, superb technology, surprisingly aesthetic appeal and, in some cases, the sheer immensity of some of these vast monsters.  The full-life biographies of the aircraft themselves are themselves compelling, but the museum also tells dozens of stories about the people whose lives were embedded in the RAF, as well as in commercial travel, both in times of war and peace.===
===

===
===

Hangar 4. Mikoyan-Guevich “MiG” 15bis.  Single seater jet intercept fighter, Russian-designed and notable for its use in Korea where its superior performance came as a shock to American pilots.  Maximum speed 688 mph. 1949-1970s

The aircraft are not exclusively British. There are American, German and Russian planes, as well as those built as joint enterprises.  The information boards compare and contrast them with contemporary British aircraft that they came up against, in terms of maneuverability, speed and technical specifications.  As well as planes there are also a couple of helicopters, staggeringly massive things that don’t seem even remotely aerodynamic, as well as some supporting ground vehicles including tanks, cars and aircraft tugs.  Although less obviously comprehensible, the range of aircraft engines on display also contributes to the story of aviation and its development, with information panels explaining how the engines improved the viability of aircraft.

Hangar 4. Hawker Siddley Vulcan in the foreground. A fabulous-looking long-range medium delta-wing bomber that was eventually converted for use as an air-to-air refuelling tanker

The focus on aircraft is not exclusively military.  Although there are a lot of those, several of the planes on display were commercial airliners of different sizes, built for carrying passengers, and the history of some of these early pioneers is well explained.

The museum is immense, taking up four gigantic hangars, each one with its own particular themes.  Although each of the Hangars is themed, there are some aircraft that don’t fit neatly into the themes, allowing for the inclusion of a lot of variety throughout all the hangars.

Bristol Britannia 312 turboprop aircraft known as The Whispering Giant due to is comparatively quiet engines. It first flew in August 1952. Due problems with the turbine engine less than 90 were made and sold to both civilian airlines, like the now defunct BOAC passenger carrier, and the RAF.

The Hangars

It is worth taking some time before you start your tour to have a look at the wall maps in the reception area, which provide details of how the different hangars connect. The numbering of the hangars is a little counter intuitive, because the first of the four that you visit is Hangar 2 (H2), then Hangar 3 (H3), then Hangar 4 (H4) and the last hangar that you visit is Hangar 1 (H1). The maps are dotted throughout the hangars but in order not to miss anything it is a good idea to sort it all out in your head in advance.  It is easy, for example, to completely miss the second hangar on your visit, because it is connected to the first hangar that you reach via two small doors that are relatively unobtrusive.  There is a guide book that has a copy of this map, copied below.  More visiting details are at the end as usual.

The site map from the Souvenir Guide (2024, Royal Air Force Museum), page 72

Hangars 2 and 3

The first hangar that you visit is Hangar 2, or H2.  To reach Hangar 2 the route takes visitors outside, passing between three magnificent aircraft, each with information boards, before passing a fourth, the innovative, versatile and very successful PBY Catalina flying boat and amphibious aircraft, at the entrance into Hangar 2.

On the other side of the door is a gallery dedicated to stories about RAF experiences between 1918 and 2018, before you pass into the hangar itself.

1940 wooden emergency exit hatch from the cockpit of Hawker Hurricane P2798 showing the cartoon cat Figaro, the personal marking of Wing Commander Ian Gleed, pilot and Second World War fighter ace

The function of the RAF, the world’s first independent air farce, remains unchanged across a hundred years: its mission is to defend the UK, to attack if required, to support in times of humanitarian crisis and to move people and equipment quickly across the world.

Like the other small galleries in the four hangars, this displays information about the immense variety of men and women who have served and continue to serve, with the vast range of skills that are required to make this military machine function. They also display the objects that related to those people, both formal and very personal.  This is an excellent way of using objects to connect people to their personal biographies and their official careers and the honours they were awarded.  Be sure to enter H3 from one door and return to H2 via the other so that you visit both galleries.

Page from the Souvenir Guide (Royal Air Force Museum 2024, p.32) talking about some of the highly personal measures that RAF personnel took to help them face the tasks before them.  Objects like these are just as much a part of RAF history as the aircraft in the museum

The main hangars in H2 and H3 focus on War in the Air and Test Flight, a mix of wartime and post-war aircraft.  Some of those on display are such icons that it is almost impossible not to reach out and touch.  In the First and Second World Wars, many planes were employed before it was possible to put them through their paces before they were needed in combat, and they were essentially put to the test in active service.

==

The iconic Spitfire MK1, the oldest surviving example

 

The Boulton Paul Defiant was vulnerable to Luftwaffe fighters. Instead of being withdrawn from service, these were painted black and moved to night operations, although they were eventually withdrawn altogether.

 

TheGerman Junkers JU-88R-I

Although it is  not possible to convey the sheer immensity of the Avro Lincoln, it is an absolute giant of a thing.  Its design was based on the Lancaster, but although it was too late for a combat role in the Second World War, it served the RAF until 1963, long after the first jet engines had come into use.  Cosford doesn’t have a Lancaster, but this is an imposing creation in its own right.

An Avro Lincoln, giving no impression in this photograph of how massive it truly is

After the Second World War significant investment was made in developing technologies to provide specialized requirements, and testing became increasingly important.  Whilst some aircraft took on important roles in the RAF, others either failed to make it into production or were significantly modified before they were adopted.  The history of aircraft is as much about those that failed, or were not entirely successful, as it is about those that became either fundamental icons or invaluable workhorses of aviation history.  It is this mixture of aircraft biographies and narratives that define Hangars 2 and 3.

 

British Aircraft Corporation TSR2, Combat Prototype

Details of the British Aircraft Corporation TSR2, Combat Prototype

BAe Experimental Aircraft Project

 

Hangar 4

H4 is next, a soaring modern building themed around The Cold War.  It is a truly spectacular building in its own right, both outside and in, a functional and striking space for displaying a huge number of aircraft to best advantage.  This is all about a new generation of fighter and surveillance aircraft, missiles and drones, as well as support vehicles.  Entered from H2 at ground level, you find yourself confronting aircraft overhead, on the same level and below, with lifts as well as stairs to get down to the the lower level.  One of the novelties, apart from the aircraft overhead, is being able to walk along the gallery and view some of the vast machines that are sitting on the lower level face to face.

It is a magnificent visual display but as in the other hangars also has plenty of information about why each type of aircraft was built, and what makes them unique, plus information about the men and women who worked in these different contexts.  At the same time, it addresses the important and often vexed subject of conflicting ideologies and why such ideologies erupt into military action, making military assets a necessary aspect of modern life.  The focus is, as the name of the hangar indicates, the Cold War, and the opposing ideologies that resulted not merely in defensive strategies but also in both armed conflict and, in an attempt to reduce the likelihood of war, such initiatives as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO).
===
===

The Vickers Valiant of 1955, designed for nuclear strikes, and withdrawn form service in 1965. Group Captain Ken Hubbard, caption if Vickers Valiant XD818 remembers its first drop of a British thermonuclear bomb with the resulting mushroom cloud “a sight of such majesty and grotesque beauty that it defies description.”

==

Douglas Dakota

The Lightning, the first RAF fighter capable of flying at twice the speed of sound, but with short operational range

Details of a personalized Handley Page Victor, which entered service in 1958

Sikorsky MH53 Pave Low long range combat, search and rescue helicopter

Sikorsky MH53 Pave Low interior

==

Scottish Aviation Twin Pioneer light transport

 

Hangar 1

The last of the hangars, H1, is themed along the lines of Transport and Training.  Transport of equipment, personnel and supplies is a major element of airforce logistics, and aircraft designed specifically for these tasks may be either passenger carriers or sometimes gigantic warehouses on wings designed to carry whole platoons or heavy armoured vehicles and armaments.  Training aircraft may be tiny by comparison with some of the vast aircraft in tis hangar, used for acclimatizing trainee pilots and building up the skills of both trainee pilots and other air and ground crew, including engineers.  This hangar also has an excellent display of engines, which also required the training of aircraft engineers, giving insights into the anatomy of these power houses propel aircraft off the ground and keep them in the air.

Fairchild Argus II light transport, which entered service in 1932

Hawker Siddeley Andover E.3A. Originally designed as a transport aircraft, it was converted to carry out calibration duties on radar and radio navigation aids

Percival Pembroke, which entered service in 1953 for light transport and communications and was withdrawn only in 1988

Hawker Siddeley Harrier GR.3

If the size of the Lincoln was the first of the aircraft to blow my mind, the Armstrong Whitworth Argosy is seriously humongous.  It is impossible to convey its scale, with its twin tails and its enormous wing span. It entered service in 1962 and could carry up to 69 troops or 13,000kg of equipment including armoured vehicles. It is two storeys tall from ground level to the cockpit.  The lens on my camera couldn’t fit anything like the whole thing in, and gives no sense of what this aircraft actually looks like, so see the image below the one in the museum of one of these crazy-looking things in flight.

Armstrong Whitworth Argosy

===

Armstrong Whitworth AW660 Argosy C1 XP445 in RAF Near East markings from the BAE Systems website.

 

Rolls Royce RB211 22C engine used in the Lockheed Tristar, and the Boeing 747 and 767. Compare with the size of the edge of the doorway immediately to its right. Huge!

Vickers VC10 C1K long range transport

Final Comments

My father in typically mellow mode after he chose the RAF for his National Service, looking awfully youthful.

Anyone who visits will take something different away from Cosford, depending on their interests and their personal connections with aircraft.  We left the UK when I was a child, returning in late 1979, and part of my experience of living overseas was flying to and from Britain to visit family, first as an “unaccompanied minor” and then on my own, making it a routine form of travel.  Once, flying from Heathrow to Liverpool with my father in a propeller plane, he warned me about coming in to land and the noise and vibration that I, having only flown in jets, would probably find startling.  I did, but what fun! Years later, in a passenger plane taxiing down a Heathrow runway, the captain told those of us on the right side of the plane to look out of the window to see a Harrier jump-jet do a vertical take-off.  Fantastic.  Twenty or so years ago I saw a Vulcan flying at the Farnborough Air Show and have never forgotten it, and at the same show saw a vast commercial passenger plane being put through extraordinarily acrobatic paces, and that too remains in my mind as a very different but remarkable sight.  Two years ago I was at RAF Duxford with my father, and was lucky enough to be there just as a whole series of vintage biplanes were taxiing down the field and taking to the sky. Magical.  Aircraft do have their own special sorts of aura, some darker and some brighter than others.

The aircraft at Cosford are beautifully displayed, and while you can just stand and admire the sheer magnificence of these astonishing beasts, the signage is all thoroughly educational without in any way talking down to the visitor.  The sheer amount of information delivered in a digestible way is genuinely impressive.

Visiting

The museum is free of charge, but parking is charged (at the time of writing) at £7.50.  You can check for updates on charges and opening times on the museum’s website here.  The museum hosts a number of events throughout the year, including an air show and corporate events, so do make sure that the entire museum is open on the day you want to go, and that none of the hangars are closed for any reason.

The car park is huge, and payment of the set fee is via machines that are dotted around.  There is a really nice cafe in the reception area, which offers drinks, snacks and lunches, and everything is bright, clean and modern.  You will need to stop at what looks like a ticket stand to confirm that you have paid for parking, and so that you can be counted, because the museum’s funding depends on the volume of footfall.

The museum’s shop is in the third hangar, with some fun stuff for sale, but you can buy a souvenir guide in the reception area.  I did buy this, with some considerable doubt in my mind because anything that refers to itself as a souvenir doesn’t inspire confidence, but this 73-page booklet, full of great photos and information, was really enjoyable and when I arrived home I read it cover to cover.  Just like the museum itself, this mixes stories of planes and people, and the result is admirable.

The museum recommends that you allow four hours to get around all four hangars, including walking around the outside aeroplanes.  Not being an expert, and not stopping to listen to the many audio recordings or watch the video displays, I did it in a leisurely two and a half hours, stopping to read a lot of the excellent signage and to take photographs.  I took an additional half hour afterwards to consume a heavenly coffee and a bite to eat.  So for me, including my snack break, it was a three hour visit, which I enjoyed phenomenally.

Lockheed Hurcules C Mk 3P medium-range tactical transport aircraft that could operate from short runways.

If it looks like rain take a brolly or a raincoat with a hood, because you will have to walk from the reception area outside to the first hangar, and there are aeroplanes to see in the grounds as well.  The first two hangars, 2 and 3, are physically linked, but it is easy to miss that there are doors letting you through.  From there, it is a matter of going outside again, into Hangar 4, and again across a small access road into Hangar 1.  If you want a coffee or something to eat afterwards, it’s few minutes to walk back to the reception area via another two outdoor planes.

There is disabled access throughout, including H3’s viewing gallery, lower level and shop.  Signage is all at a level that can be read by wheelchair users.

Museum Ground Crew

Only one of the aircraft, at least on my three visits, allows visitor access, and this was a guided tour for a fee at restricted times, so experiencing the planes is a matter of viewing either from the floor or, in the third hangar, from both floor level and via a viewing gallery.

If you don’t want to be inundated with children, avoid weekends and school holidays.  School trips mean that they are not completely avoidable, but you stand half a chance.

Every time I have been there, especially last month (October) when I turned up at opening time, there were volunteers everywhere who are there to offer knowledge and help you with any visiting information.  They are a hugely knowledgeable and friendly bunch.

If you have even a marginal interest in aircraft or the history of technology, this makes for a very rewarding day out.

Hawker Cygnet, 1924-29

 

Ewloe Castle in Wepre Park, near Connah’s Quay

Artist’s reconstruction of Ewloe Castle. Source: Renn and Avent 2001

The ruins of the 13th century Ewloe Castle, one of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd’s more puzzling constructions, is located in the public Wepre Park, near Connah’s Quay and not far from Chester.

Visiting details are at the end of the post, including information about car parking, the visitor centre, an excellent downloadable guide to the routes through the park and its key features, as well as where to find out more information about the castle.
==


==

Wepre Park

Wepre Park map in the Explore Wepre Park PDF by Denbigh County Council online.  The Main Trail leads from the car park all the way to the foot of Eweloe Castle.  The Boardwalk is also reached from the car park, and is shown at bottom left.

Wepre Park is a woodland valley, largely deciduous, that flanks the Wepre Brook, and is very popular with dog walkers, joggers, and families. According to the park’s literature, it is a remnant of the great hunting forest of Ewloe.  More recently it was the site of Wepre Hall.  On a sunny day in the autumn, with the light filtering through the trees, this should be a wonderful display of illuminated colour.  The autumnal display was very fine, with the light filtering through the multi-coloured leaves and the woodland floors carpeted with bright yellows and oranges.  The woodland contains a wide mixture of different trees, shrubs and vegetation and is home to varied wildlife, including aquatic species, insects, birds, bats, badgers and a lot of very busy squirrels.  There is also a small wildlife meadow, although there is not much to see at this time of year.
==

The valley was owned in the 11th century by St Werburgh’s Abbey in Chester.  In the mid 12th century it was the site of a major confrontation between Henry II and the forces of Owain ap Gruffydd, ruler of Gwynedd in west Wales, during Owain’s campaign to extend his territories to the east. In 1157 Henry II took an army into northeast Wales to subdue Owain, but was ambushed by Owain in the Ewloe valley.  Although Henry escaped, and defeated Owain at Rhuddlan, Owain later regained much of the lost territory.

Wepre Hall, first built in 1788. Source: RCHAMW

A house is recorded at the site from at least the late Middle Ages.  During the Civil War a house at Wepre belonged to Royalist supporters who, in 1645, supposedly hid in the cellars a Royalist sympathiser who was a participant in the the Battle of Rowton Moor.  It was rebuilt as a 2-storey Georgian house in 1788 by Edward Jones, the owner of a local lead mine, with outbuildings and later extensions.  It was demolished in 1960.  There is nothing remaining of Wepre Hall except for the cellars.  The visitor centre sits on part of the Wepre Hall site, and the gardens here and nearby are designed to echo the formal gardens of the Hall.

There are a number of routes through the park.  From the car park, the Main Trail is a wide metalled track that leads from the car park past the visitor centre nearly as far as the castle (after which there are wooden steps leading up to the castle).  It follows the line of the brook, which drifts in and out of sight and is constantly audible.  The most notable feature on the Main Trail, apart from the lovely woodland, are the outcrops of Hollin Rock, a 320 million year old red sandstone, popular as a building material.  Towards the end of the trail is a small and attractive bridge, Pont Aber, that was once located further upstream but was moved here in 1800 to improve access to Wepre Hall.  There is a delightful small waterfall on the other side, which used to be the location of the Castle Hill Brewery that used the water from a natural spring.
==

The second significant route is a boardwalk, which leads from the car park along the brook and connects to the Main Trail about half way way along.  The main feature of the Boardwalk route is the waterfall, actually built as a weir to power a small hydroelectric plant, but it is a very attractive feature.  The plant used to provide electricity to the Hall before mains electricity arrived in the area in 1925.  There is a variety of aquatic vegetation flanking the boardwalk, and information boards indicate the different wildlife, including birds, that can be spotted on a walk.  The boardwalk follows the brook closely until it slopes up slightly to meet the Main Trail, and the “bubbling brook” phrase never seemed more apt.  This is a very audio-visual walk.
==

Some of the other footpaths are just well-worn tracks, very muddy at this time of year, but follow lovely winding routes through the woodland.  I tried the track from the bridge to the Devil’s Basin, supposed to be a short set of very pretty falls, but after five minutes or so the deeply churned mud made it completely impassable in ordinary hiking boots. It would have required wellies.

Near the visitor centre there is a small lake called the Rosie Pool that was created in the late 19th century for fishing and is now managed by the local angling club.  Immediately behind the visitor centre is a small but very attractive formal garden with a small pond, a nod to the former hall.  Even at this time of year, fuchsia, hydrangea and sedum still have some flowers.  There is a small pet cemetery located at its edge.  For more about the park download the Explore Wepre Park guide (in Sources at the end of this post).

Ewloe Castle

Ewloe Castle from the air. RCHAMW 6463845. Source: RCHAMW

There is some discussion about who built the castle. It was certainly either built or rebuilt in c.1257 by Llywelyn ap Gruffudd (also known as Llywelyn the Last), but he may have been restoring a castle originally built by Llywelyn ap Iorwerth (Llywelyn the Great).  The D-shaped keep has been seen as characteristic of Llywelyn the Great, and differences in the stonework of the upper and lower wards have been used to argue for a two-phase construction.  If this was indeed the case, it is argued that the upper ward would have been contemporary with the keep built by Llywelyn the Great and the lower ward built by his grandson Llywelyn the Last.  On the other hand, there is an early 14th century document that states that the entire was built by Llywelyn the Last.  The question remains unresolved, but it is not doubted that whoever built the castle, Llywelyn the Last certainly carried out extensive building work here.

Plan of the castle. Source: Lloyd 1928

Although it is built to a fairly standard Welsh plan, it is something of an oddity in strategic terms, not being built high on a hill but on the edge of a small valley.  Although the sides slope steeply away from the castle on three sides, it was actually overlooked from the south, so required quite extensive outer defences on that side, consisting of a ditch, the digging out of which would have provided a bank.
==

The keep sits within a small upper ward.  A larger lower ward was added, possibly at a later date, with a tower at its furthest extent from the upper ward and both were provided with curtain walls, some of which remain.  The D-shaped (or apsidal) keep has a small footprint with its semi-circular end overlooking the defences, whilst the tower in the lower keep overlooks both the southern aspect and the valley below.  The lower ward would have been provided with timber buildings for domestic functions and storage.

On the former ground floor of the keep, to which the steps at the back of the upper ward lead, the former hearth is still visible, and there are windows set in the thick walls.  Looking at the keep today, the lowest layer was a basement with no lighting.  The keep had an outer stone staircase at its south, and this is still in use for accessing the inner staircase that leads up inside the walls of the keep to a viewing platform at the top of what remains of the keep’s walls.

Two entrances, one into the upper ward and one into the lower ward would have been approached by bridges over the defences.  The lower ward’s tower was probably accessed from the curtain walls of the lower ward.

In 1257, when the castle was either built or rebuilt, Llywelyn ap Gruffudd was on the offensive, attempting to retake Perfeddwlad, otherwise known as the “Four Cantrefs,” which incorporated the cantrefs of Rhos, Rhufoniog, Dyffryn Clwyd and Tegeingl, a constant bone of contention between the Welsh princes and the English crown.

The problem of the poor strategic location could be explained by suggesting a different intention for the castle as more of a political statement than a fully functional military outpost.  Its location on the edges of disputed territory, not far from older English castles and the site of Owain Gwynedd’s defeat of Henry II may simply have been a statement of a Welsh return to land that they claimed as their own, and a useful staging point for any future negotiations, given its proximity to the Anglo-Welsh border.  This is supported by its probable use first in November 1259 and again in December 1260 when English ambassadors were sent to meet with Llywelyn at a place identified as Wepre, which must have been the castle.  There is no record of the castle’s involvement in 1276 and 1277, when war between England and Wales reignited, which may give added weight to this castle being a political gesture rather than a strictly military base, but could also reflect the necessity of Welsh retreat to safer ground.

Ewloe Castle by Moses Griffith (1747-1819) NMW A13529. Source: National Museum of Wales

Edward I does not appear to have felt that Ewloe Castle was worthy of his interest.  Although he restored other castles for his own use, this was probably too small, too badly sited and too difficult to defend.  Instead, in 1277 Edward began to build at Flint (posted about on the blog here), Rhuddlan (posted about here) and Denbigh (posted about here).  Owain Glyndwr’s rebellion in 1400 found no use for it either.
==

Visiting

Access to the castle, managed by Cadw, is free of charge and open all year round, as is the entire park, but you will need to be confident with stairs, as they are the only way in and out of the castle.  There are new metal stair cases with handrails, and original stone ones, including a small flight in a stairwell in the keep leading up to a viewing platform at the top.  None of the stone staircases have handrails.

Parking is straight forward for both castle and park.  If you only want to see the castle there is a lay-by on the side of the B5125 that looks as though it will take about 8 cars, maybe a couple more.  I didn’t try the route from there to the castle so have no idea what the footpath is like underfoot, but the What3Words address for the lay-by parking is ///follow.beauty.mistaking.  The official car park is a large one near the visitor centre on Wepre Drive. Ewloe Castle is about a mile away from this car park along a very easy and attractive trail. The What3Words address is for the main car park is  ///contrived.writing.mailers

A circular walk taking in the boardwalk and returning to the car park via the Main Trail would be suitable for unwilling legs, as would a walk along the boardwalk to the bridge and then back along the main route.  The castle is not suitable for those who cannot manage steps and stairs, as this is the only way of getting into the castle, from whatever direction you approach.

The visitor centre is closed at this time of year (November) but its cafe was open on my visit.  The public toilets are also open nearby.  There’s a substantial play area on the edge of the car park.  There are a small number of good information boards throughout the park, including one at the castle, but the Cadw official guide to Flint Castle also has a section on Ewloe Castle.  Other sources are listed below, including castle information and an excellent guide to the park, together with a footpath map.


Sources:

Wepre Park

Flintshire County Council
Parks and Countryside
https://www.flintshire.gov.uk/en/LeisureAndTourism/Countryside-and-Coast/Parks-and-countryside.aspx
Discover Wepre Park Booklet
https://www.flintshire.gov.uk/en/PDFFiles/Countryside–Coast/Discover-Wepre-EnglishWEB.pdf

A different map that may be slightly easier to follow is on the following link:
Potty Adventures
Wepre Park
https://pottyadventures.wordpress.com/2016/07/16/wepre-park-our-local-8th-wonder-of-world/

=
Ewloe Castle

Books and papers

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

Lloyd, J.E. 1928.  Ewloe.  Y Cymmrodor, vol.39 (unnumbered)

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

Websites

BBC News
13th century castle to be sold (18th November 2009)
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/wales/north_east/8364611.stm

Cadw
Castell Ewloe
https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/castell-ewloe

Coflein
Ewloe Castle
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/94447/
Wepre Hall
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/36307/

Wales Online
Ewloe Castle has sold to farmer at auction (9th December 2009)
https://www.dailypost.co.uk/news/local-news/ewloe-castle-sold-farmer-auction-2770922
==