Category Archives: History

Day Trip: Wroxeter Roman City, near Shrewsbury

Hypocaust in the foreground with, in the background, the wall known as the Old Work, making one side of the former basilica.

Founded in the mid-1st century AD next to the point of the river Severn where it could be forded, Wroxeter (Viriconium) was built on land farmed by the Iron Age Cornovii.  It became a legionary fortress with the capacity to hold 5500 men in the 50s, becoming an urban centre towards the end of the 1st century, eventually becoming Britain’s fourth largest town, four times larger than the the legionary fortress.  The remains of the site lie in a rural landscape to the east of Shrewsbury and is managed by Historic England.  There is an imaginary reconstruction of a Roman villa.  Indoors there is a very nicely presented Visitor Centre with exhibits and displays, as well as a small shop.  Visiting details are at the end of this post.

Display in the Visitor Centre

There is little point repeating everything that the fact-filled guide book has to say about Wroxeter and its history, so this is just a short summary of what you can expect to see on a visit.

What remains of the site is a very small section of the original 192 acre (78 hectare) city, consisting of the lowest courses and foundations of the bath-house, part of a market-place and a row of column bases that marks one site of the forum.  The road that carries visitors into the town follows the line of the Roman road, Watling Street.  The city was surrounded by a 3-mile long circuit of ditches and banks originally topped with a timber palisade, now on farm land and not accessible to the public, but still visible on aerial photographs.

Information board in the Visitor Centre at Wroxeter

Unlike Chester, York, London and many other Roman urban developments that survived the departure of Rome, Viriconium was one of the Roman towns that were completely abandoned, beginning in the mid-3rd century.  Looking out over the surrounding fields towards the Wrekin, after which Viriconium may have been named, it is difficult to imagine a thriving urban mass of public and private buildings connected by a maze of roadways and alleys. A series of archaeological excavations, however, have provided insights into what used to be here, and the visitor centre and guide book do a good job of explaining it.

The town was divided by the mighty Watling Street that connected it to London in the south, and to Whitchurch to the north, where the road forked with one branch going to Chester and the other towards the northeast, York and beyond.

Artistic reconstruction of the basilica on an outdoor information board

The most conspicuous feature of the site is the single piece of surviving wall, known as the Old Work, shown at the top of this post, which is what remains of what was one of the walls of the basilica, which was shared with the rest of the bath-house.  The big opening in the wall marks where there were once double doors.  The layers of brick-like stone blocks and tile work were covered in pink plaster, some of which would have been painted with decorative scenes.

Information board showing the main architectural features at the site with the basilica shaded in blue, the shops and marketplace side by side in the foreground and the bath-house taking up the rest of the space.

Changing rooms at the end of the basilica

The bath-house, which has been excavated in its entirety, is the most complete part of the site, with remains of one wall, sections of the the hypocaust (raised heated floor) and the footprint of the baths’ basilica, giving a clear indication of the scale of the original complex.  Bath-houses were an important part of Roman life, a component of civilized living and a good place to socialize and network. Even the small industrial base at Prestatyn had a tiny bath-house (posted about here).  The Roman visitor to a big bath complex would usually begin in the basilica, a long thin space flanked by columns, where exercise and sports could be carried out in the central area, whilst the side aisles could have been used for personal care activities like massages and hair dressing.  At the end of the basilica were two changing rooms.

The outdoor plunge pool

Then bathers moved through the baths in a sequence from an outdoor cold water plunge pool (heaven help them in this climate!) to an indoor cold water pool (natatio), an unheated room (frigidarium), a  warm room (tepidarium), and a number of both wet and dry hot rooms (an alveus, caldarium, and sudatorium).  Heat was provided in the warm and hot rooms via a hypocaust, consisting of regularly placed pillars of tiles that once supported a raised floor about 1 metre high, through which hot air was directed from three furnaces.  Hollow box-like flue tiles were used to capture the hot air as it rose from below.  A piece of decorated ceiling plaster from the hot room has been reconstructed, and copies are kept in both the Visitor Centre and the Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery.

Hot room

Reconstruction of ceiling plaster of the frigidarium in the Visitor Centre

Part of the western extension of the baths

Water from the baths was drained away beneath the bath-house and was used to flush out the latrines, the lower courses of which survive.

One of the shops that fronted onto Watling Street

Although the rest of the remains today lack the impact of the basilica wall section, mainly consisting of no more than two or three courses of stonework, these too were important parts of the civic quarter of the city, and there are explanatory information boards all over the site that explain what you are looking at and showing helpful artists’ reconstructions of how buildings may have been experienced by the Roman inhabitants.

Part of an information board showing the market place used by wealthy residents

Next to the bath-house is what remains of a market hall, with two storeys surrounding a central courtyard, containing shops that sold high quality food goods to the wealthy.  This building survived into the fifth century AD.  Nearby were other shops with open fronts overlooking Watling Street, which may have included food and drink for those using the baths, like modern take-away outlets or bars.

One of the ground floor shops in the marketplace

Colonnade of the forum, facing Watling Street

Over the road there is a line of column bases that are the remains of what must have been a very impressive forum, which was once covered 2.5 acres (1 hectare) and measured 80m x 120m (262 x 393ft).  This consisted of covered buildings arranged in a square around an open courtyard. The buildings served administrative, legal and mercantile functions, and the ruins represent a colonnade that faced onto Watling Street.  The central area was for an open market where stalls could be rented by local traders.

The reconstructed Roman house, a simplified version of excavated building “Site 6,” had a shop facing onto the street with accommodation at the rear.   It was built in 2010 for a television programme and provides a good way of visualizing what Watling Street and other areas of Viriconium may have looked like.

The forum

The reconstructed Roman house

A room in the villa

Next to the house, but not open to the public, is the model farm built in the mid 19th century by Lord Barnard, and incorporates considerable amounts of Roman stonework in its construction.  The farm is no longer in use but is maintained by Historic England.

The visitor centre and the lavishly illustrated guide book provide an excellent overview of the entire city’s history and what was found in archaeological excavations, with more information provided in the Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery.

Visiting

Prices and opening times can be found on the English Heritage website here.  There is plenty of parking.  The visit begins at the visitor centre, where tickets are purchased and you are given the option of taking an audio guide. I didn’t take one, but plenty of people were using them.  There is a small shop where you can purchase a detailed guide book, and although it is impractical to read this as you go around the site, there is a site plan and an aerial photograph with all key features marked, both of which great to have as you walk around.  The Visitor Centre is small but excellent, with plenty of helpful information boards and attractive displays of objects found at the site.  There is no cafe but there is a picnic area with a few benches.

1st century harness mount showing Bacchus

The site itself is mostly on the flat, with pathways between all the main buildings and information boards explaining what you are looking at.  There was a coach-load of children there at the time I visited and it is clear that for children, the villa was easier to get to grips with than the ruins themselves.

Nearby is St Andrew’s Church, which I very annoyingly missed but is widely recommended with some attractive and unusual features, some dating back to the Norman period. Both the church and the model farm, the latter not open to the public, are described in English Heritage’s Wroxeter guide book.

St Bartholemew’s, Tong

If you are driving via the A41, both Lilleshall Abbey and Tong’s St Bartholemew’s Church are well worth the visit.  Tong is right on the A41, very convenient for a visit en route.

Near to Wroxeter is the 18th century National Trust Attingham Park property. Shrewsbury is not far, and has a really excellent museum and art gallery with a super Roman gallery with finds from Wroxeter. Shrewsbury itself is a lovely and apparently thriving town with a good mixture of architectural styles from the Medieval period onwards, including the vast church of the former Shrewsbury Abbey, some lovely half-timbered buildings and some fine Georgian architecture, as well as some great places to find lunch!

Sources

White, Roger H. 2023. Wroxeter Roman City. English Heritage (also includes St Andrew’s Church, the Victorian model farm and the reconstructed house)

Information displayed in the Wroxeter Visitor Centre

Information displayed in the Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery (Roman gallery)

Discovering Shropshire’s History (website)
Roman Shropshire – (AD 43 – AD 410)
http://www.shropshirehistory.org.uk/html/search/verb/GetRecord/theme:20061122101531

 

Exhibition in Chester Cathedral: “Trena Cox: Reflections 100”

Introduction

The new exhibition at Chester Cathedral, Trena Cox: Reflections 100, which is on until the 8th November 2024, a scarily short window of opportunity for visitors, has pulled out all the stops to create a really imaginative  and absorbing examination of stained glass artist Trena Cox and an exploration of her legacy in more recent art works.

First, it was a new opportunity to learn more about an important local stained glass artist, a woman engaged in a form of art-craft that was usually the preserve of men.  She is, for example, one of only two female stained glass artists represented in the cathedral, and she has nine windows, one large (the St Christopher window in the slype shown below) and eight small ones in the cloisters (four of which are shown further down).
To appeal to different preferences for experiencing exhibitions, there are downloadable audio guides, online information sources via QR codes and real-world interactive screens, as well as beautifully designed and displayed posters and original works of art employing diverse materials in multiple styles.

Detail of Emily Lawler’s “Flock of Five Geese.” The entire composition, referencing the story of St Werburgh and her miracle, is shown below.

Second, it was terrific to see how the four different parts of the exhibition explored different aspects of Trena Cox’s legacy, because this is as much about the art and ideas that Trena inspired as it is about her own work.  In addition to  well known artists in different types of medium, the pre-exhibition project headed out into the community to involved different groups, including school children.  The sheer diversity of responses to Trena’s work is remarkable, many of them picking up not on the main themes of her work, but on the tiny details that make her work unique.

Third, it was fascinating to discover how the entire cathedral was employed in displaying the works on display, drawing visitors into different areas of the cathedral to experience new ideas in a medieval context.  The abbey has small, intimate spaces as well as large lofty ones, and the trail makes good use of the architecture.  By using the entire cathedral space, the art works could be separated, giving each one the opportunity to create its own impact.

The St Christopher window following restoration. Photograph by Helen Anderson (and copyright Helen Anderson)

Next, it was splendid to experience at first hand how beautifully the St Christopher window has been restored by Recclesia.  I attended a Chester Archaeological Society visit, lead by Artist in Residence Aleta Doran who is also the exhibition’s curator, and although thought it was stunning then, it has since been restored and it was fabulous to see not only how it has been repaired and restored, but how new details have been revealed.  This can be seen in the window itself, but is also the subject of a splendid video in the cloister that captures the work carried out.

Finally, I was with artist Helen Anderson, and we were given an informal tour of the exhibition by its curator, Artist in Residence Aleta Doran, who is always a joy for her knowledge and enthusiasm, which provided us with a terrific insight into how the entire exhibition came into being, a real learning curve into what it takes to pull together an exhibition that has so many aspects to it.  A real logistical tour de force, as well as a visual treat.
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Finding your way

The exhibition is grouped into four different sections, each exploring a different aspect of Trena’s legacy.  As you enter the cloisters from the reception area (free of charge at this time of year), there is an information board that points you to the left, but pause to investigate as it also has QR codes, one of which is a map of the route that you can download to your phone, another an audio guide that relates to the numbered posters and exhibits.

Don’t forget to pick up the booklet, the cover of which is shown at the top of the post, from the reception area.  There is some very useful information about the exhibition, its contributors and its partners and sponsors, as well as QR codes to more information online.

Learning about Trena Cox

The first part of the exhibition introduces the visitor to Trena Cox (1895-1980) using, depending on whether you downloaded the audio introduction, either posters or a combination of posters and Aleta’s audio tour.   The posters are beautifully designed, framed in slender black frames that emulate the leaded frames of stained glass, showing photographs of Trena Cox glass from many locations, accompanied by isolated motifs taken from her glass works. The only known photograph of her was taken when she was a young teenager and shows a direct gaze and a certain fearlessness.

Born on the Wirral, Trena Cox trained at the Laird School of Art in Birkenhead, receiving a traditional introduction to a broad range of techniques and skills before switching to stained glass. There are over 150 stained glass pieces known, but others may remain to be found.  Working mainly in the Cheshire and northeast Wales areas, her works are, however, in other areas, and most of them are in churches.  Trena’s story, which has sometimes been a challenge for Aleta to discover, emerges from both the posters and the audio track and demonstrates not only Trena’s talent but her willingness to modify her style to suit the times.

Trena Cox windows showing King Henry II on the right looking somewhat balefully toward Thomas Becket on the left

Trena Cox’s cathedral windows are an important part of the the exhibition and the route takes you first to those in the cloister (the walkway around the garden).  The cloister was windowless until the arrival at the cathedral of Dean Frank Bennett, whose energy and enthusiasm created the stained glass sensation that we see today.  Eight of Trena’s windows are small lights each side of a corner, in each case two above and two below.  My favourites are the paired Henry II and Thomas Becket of Canterbury.  There are other connections to St Thomas Becket within the cathedral, but what I particularly like about these two windows is the way that Henry looks out of his window towards Becket in his window, recreating something of the narrative of this impossibly difficult relationship, which resulted in the martyrdom of Becket, and a period of political difficulty for Henry II.  You can almost hear Henry thinking “Will no-one rid me of this meddlesome priest?” (almost certainly apocryphal). There is a QR code on one of the information boards for finding out more about all of the cloister windows on the Chester Cathedral website.

Detail of the St Christopher window shown at the end of the post, with Trena Cox’s signature and the bee surrounded by a pattern made of her fingerprints.

The recent restoration and professional cleaning of the main Trena Cox window in the cathedral, the St Christopher window in the slype, has returned from Recclesia with a glowing, incandescent and luminescent quality that is quite extraordinary.  Whether or not this is your sort of aesthetic, this is an extraordinary piece with charming details full of symbolism.  Minutiae that were not previously visible are now bright and sharp, and the richness of the entire composition can now be appreciated as Trena Cox first designed it.  I particularly melted at how Trena’s fingerprints were incorporated into a pattern around the bee in the window.  It was also revealed that the lead was used to create texture and relief at certain points, with St Christopher’s remarkable hair not merely painted on, but highlighted with sections of lead.  There is an interactive display in the slype (corridor) next to the window which allows you to explore the imagery and symbolism of the window, which are extensive, and this really helps to open up the secondary stories.

Video showing the skilled work carried out on the St Christopher window by Recclesia Stained Glass

A video in the cloisters describes how the restoration work was carried out.  It shows footage of the team at work, including the absolutely nail-biting process of putting the window back into its arches after restoration.  Aleta says that it was just as bad watching it being taken out, but somehow the sense of being at the finishing line after all that hard work was horribly tense even on a video!  But of course these people are experts and everything was fine.  Microscope analysis of the stained glass shows how in one section of the glass, which had become damaged simply due to its age, the edges of some of the painted text had begun to deteriorate, so the restoration work was incredibly timely.

Trena Cox in today’s Community

One of the really creative parts of the exhibition, and an admirable requirement for a part of the funding for the exhibition, was that the local community should be given the opportunity to respond to Trena Cox’s stained glass art with art works of its own.  I knew about this when I visited the Trena Cox windows with the Chester Archaeological Society, lead by Aleta, but was not at all clear about how this part of the project would manifest itself.  What a super surprise to see the inventiveness and imagination produced by local community groups and schools!  Here are some examples:

St Werburgh’s and St Columba’s Primary School

Heritage Engagement Window. During the 2024 Chester Heritage Festival in June, children as young as two years old painted panels that were incorporated into this splendid leaded panel, all based on the St Christopher window

Detail of the above Heritage Engagement Window.

Jigsaw, a community artwork based on a Trena Cox window in St Werburgh’s Church, by 15 women of Chester

The Story of Stained Glass

The creation of stained glass is probably one of the most poorly understood areas of art, craft and design.  Although it is widespread, and not only in religious buildings, its history and the processes of manufacture and repair are something of a mystery for most of us.  The process of demystification has been very much assisted by an enormous but easily digested set of information boards that lead down one part of the cloister, charting the chronological history of the artistic and technical advances in stained glass development. It’s a real revelation and is beautifully written and designed.

Artistic responses to Trena Cox

In Our Hands by April Pebble Owens.

How current artists have responded to Trena Cox is one of the innovative aspects of the exhibition, not only helping to highlight some of the unique features of the original stained glass creations, but also inspiring and forging new creations.  These new works of art, some in glass, others in paint and fabric, others engraved, some in mosaic, some in print, certainly demonstrate a wide range of skills but more importantly showcase the diversity of creative and empathetic responses to Trena Cox’s enormous catalogue of artistic expression.  I have copied a few of these below, chosen simply to show some of the range of different ideas and interpretations that emerged.  In the exhibition accompanying labels explain some of the ideas behind these works, one of which is shown below.

Tamsin Abbot. The Wolf Shall Dwell with the Lamb

Label explaining ideas behind the above panel by Tamsin Abbott. Each of the pieces on display in the exhibition is accompanied by a similar piece of explanatory text

By the River of Swirling Eddies by Linda Edwards, reminiscent of medieval bestiaries

Flock of Five Geese, by Emily Lawlor

Apertures, by Lindsey Kennedy

Birds Without Borders by Gillian Curry

Final Thoughts

Detail of the St Christopher window

The idea for the exhibition was born around four years ago.  Work has been concentrated in the last two years.  There are so many different aspects to it that there it is difficult to do justice to it, but as a celebration of Trena Cox, of stained glass, and of how communities as well as individual artists can respond to an artist’s output, this was a revelation.   Even more than the work of Trena Cox herself, I found the whole conceptualization of the exhibition with its multiple strands of knowledge transfer, and its outreach to the local community and other artists, truly engaging.

The exhibition works, and it works brilliantly.  This was demonstrated perhaps more than anything else by the two elderly ladies who walked around it, arm in arm, discussing in depth all the modern responses to Trena Cox’s work.  Neither knew much about art, but both were fully absorbed with the narrative of the exhibition, from Trena Cox herself to the evidence of her legacy.  Splendid.

Detail of the newly restored St Christopher Window

Find out more

Detail of the Heritage Engagement Window

There is a “Trena Cox:Reflections 100” symposium, which has been arranged to coincide with the exhibition, on 25th October 2024:

“Using the life and legacy of Trena Cox as the focal point, attendees will hear from a variety of respected speakers from across the stained glass, heritage conservation, and art sectors. This evening keynote will conclude the day, looking at the past and future of women in stained glass.”

You can find details for the symposium on the Chester Cathedral website at:
https://chestercathedral.com/events/event/21607

You can follow Aleta Doran on Twitter (@StargazingAleta), or via her blog at https://www.aletadoran.co.uk/. 

For those wishing to investigate further afield, Green Badge Guide Katie Crowther is leading a “Trena Cox:Reflections 100” walking tour of Chester on 3rd November to complement the exhibition:

This walk will be a chance to get out onto the streets of the city where Trena lived and worked from 1924 until her death in 1980. We’ll take a look at some of the buildings where her distinctive work can be seen today and learn more of their history.  Trena was a passionate advocate for the preservation of her adopted home’s history and heritage. Along the walk, we’ll consider several of the streetscapes that changed quite dramatically during Trena’s time in Chester.
https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/trena-cox-reflections-100-chester-sunday-netwalk-tickets-1013497697897?utm-campaign=social&utm-content=attendeeshare&utm-medium=discovery&utm-term=listing&utm-source=wsa&aff=ebdsshwebmobile

The free booklet provided at the reception area also provides the following QR codes for those who want to find out more:

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Websites with more information:

Chester Cathedral
Trena Cox: Reflections 100
https://chestercathedral.com/events/event/15207

The Trena Cox Project
By Aleta Doran, ongoing
https://www.aletadoran.co.uk/thetrenacoxproject

Recclesia Ltd
https://recclesia.com/
https://recclesiastainedglass.co.uk/

Chester Archaeological Society
An Interview with Chester Cathedral Artist in Residence Aleta Doran. For CAS, by Andie Byrnes, 7th July 2024
https://chesterarchaeolsociety.blog/2024/07/07/an-interview-with-chester-cathedral-artist-in-residence-aleta-doran/
Chester Archaeological Society visit to Chester Cathedral with Aleta Doran to learn about stained glass artist Trena Cox. For CAS, by Andie Byrnes June 13th 2024
https://chesterarchaeolsociety.blog/2024/06/13/our-visit-to-chester-cathedral-with-aleta-doran-to-learn-about-stained-glass-artist-trena-cox/

Based In Churton
A roof boss in Chester Cathedral: The Murder of Thomas Becket
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/2023/07/14/a-ceiling-boss-in-chester-cathedral-the-murder-of-thomas-becket/

Rhuddlan Castle and the Statute of Wales

Rhuddlan Castle from the air. Source: People’s Collection Wales.

The magnificent Rhuddlan Castle, and its predecessor Twthill motte-and-bailey castle (the latter now just a mound), are located just over 3 miles south of the point on the North Wales coast where the river Clwyd, which Edward I diverted to pass the foot of Rhuddlan, empties into the sea at Rhyl. Like all of Edward I’s newly built English castles in Wales, this has some features in common with its brethren, but is at the same time a unique entity, each with a highly distinctive, unmistakable appearance in its own right, building on previous creativity to create even more innovative defensive measures.

I visited Rhuddlan last week for the first time, taking spur-of-the-moment advantage of a cold but gloriously sunny morning to make the most of Rhuddlan’s striking looks and lovely location.  The castle is an impressive sight, particularly as it is bounded on its northeastern side by fairly dense village housing and one gets the sense of emerging abruptly from the bustling present into a peaceful and finely fossilized landscape of the past.

This is the third post in an occasional series about the history of Edward I’s earliest castles in northeast Wales.  The background history to Edward’s sudden launch into castle building in Wales from 1277 is the first part, and can be found here. It looks at the disputes between Edward I’s father Henry III, king of England, and his subsequent and far more personally felt disputes with Llywelyn ap Gruffud, Llywelyn the Last of Wales.  The second post in the series looked at Flint Castle, the first of Edward’s castles in Wales started in July 1277, with its accompanying new town.  Rhuddlan Castle was started in September 1277, and is covered below.  Denbigh built in 1282 is posted about here.

St Mary’s Rhuddlan

I combined Rhuddlan Castle with a look at the last surviving chunk of Edwardian defensive ditch that originally surrounded the town, and a wander around the exterior of the nearby St Mary’s Church (its opening times to visitors are limited to the summer months), which was built sometime after the granting of the town charter in 1278, both of which are mentioned below. I then skirted the castle and followed the track and footpath down to Twthill. The story of life at Rhuddlan before Edward I, both pre- and post-Norman, will be covered on another post, and will include the background to and history of Twthill.

St Asaph’s Cathedral

After Rhuddlan I drove the few miles south to visit St Asaph Cathedral, which has connections to both Rhuddlan Friary, originally located near the castle, and Valle Crucis Abbey, near Llangollen.  Valle Crucis is the subject of an ongoing series of posts on this blog.  Rhuddlan Friary has been discussed on the blog here, and St Asaph Cathedral will be discussed on a separate post at a later date.

To make it an official day-trip, the day not being warm enough for an ice cream, I stopped for a very self-indulgent glass in The Hare in Farndon on the way home, which was the cherry on top of a very good day!

Visitor information for Rhuddlan Castle is at the end of the post.

Rhuddlan during the reign of Henry III

Henry III (reigned 1216-1272), father of Edward I, had ongoing problems with self-styled Prince of Wales Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, also known as Llywelyn the Last, a grandson of Llywelyn ap Iorwerth (Llywelyn the Great).  Llywelyn was based in Gwynedd, his home territory, but had managed to establish some degree of unity within his own family (particularly his brothers Dafydd and Owain) and throughout Wales, historically a fragmented and constantly shifting set of territories.  The powerful Marcher lordships along the Welsh border formed an aggressive barrier between Wales and the rest of England, and trouble had rumbled continuously along the border during the reigns of previous kings, causing the official border between the two countries to move regularly.  The crown held territories within modern Wales, and these came under attack by Llywelyn the Last. This is all covered in the post that describes the background to the disputes between Edward and Llywellyn, complete with a family tree of the relevant participants.

A Dominican priory, described on the blog here, was founded by Llywelyn ap Gruffudd in 1258 during the reign of Henry III, and is discussed.  The building does not survive, but some of its materials were visibly incorporated into the farm that now sits on the original site of the priory.  It is quite likely that during the 13th century played host to Llywelyn ap Grufudd, and later to both Henry III and Edward I during their visits.  As with most monastic institutions, the Dominicans were obliged to show hospitality to guests, irrespective of their political allegiance, and it would have been in their interests to stay in the good graces of both Welsh and English leaders.  Edward had probably taken advantage of hospitality at Basingwerk Abbey during the construction of Flint Castle.

Edward I’s Rhuddlan Castle

Expanding the the “Ring of Iron”

Map of Edward I’s campaigns in Wales. Source: History Matters at the University of Wales

Edward was granted the royal lands in Wales by Henry III on the occasion of his marriage to Eleanor of Castille, and took an active interest in the Welsh situation until his departure on crusade, during which his father died.  Edward inherited the dispute with Llywelyn, but was already very familiar with the the Welsh prince and his ambitions, and was also familiar with the Welsh landscape.  The expenses incurred during his crusade had left him with serious debts, and the terms of the agreement that Llywelyn had reached with Henry III involved a substantial annual payment by the Welsh prince to the Crown treasury, but there were problems.  Llywelyn was already three years in arrears, and was now refusing to pay homage to the new king.  Several treaties under Henry III had failed to achieve long term peace, and although the Treaty of Montgomery of 1267 had looked as though it might hold, Llywelyn ap Gruffud’s behaviour was intolerable to Edward who labelled Llywelyn an outlaw in 1276, and war was declared in 1277. A peace was brokered, but although Edward had every reason to believe that the treaty might secure peace between England and Wales, he began to build a series of castles in northeast Wales, eventually extending into northwest Wales, beginning at Flint in the July of 1277 and rolling out along the coastlines throughout the next two decades.  This was followed almost immediately by the foundation of Rhuddlan in the same year.

Artist’s impression of the Twthill motte-and-bailey castle by Terry Ball.  All that survives today is the motte. Source: Wikipedia

When Edward started building his castle at Rhuddlan in September 1277, Flint Castle and town were still under construction.  Flint had been virgin territory, and consisted of both a stone castle and a new defended town, an “implanted bastide.”  Although the site of Edward’s castle itself had not been occupied, Rhuddlan had been long-established, from the pre-Conquest period into the 13th century.  The existing wooden Twthill motte-and-bailey castle, a short distance from Rhuddlan probably served as a useful base from which to manage building works and campaigns as the new stone castle was built and the new town laid out and provided with perimeter defences.

Llywelyn, realizing that his cause was lost, surrendered  later in 1277 at Rhuddlan, several years before Edward’s castle was finished, and for a while it looked as though the resulting Treaty of Aberconwy would provide the basis for long-term peace.  Llywelyn had been granted the entire region of what is now known as Gwynedd, permitted to retain the title Prince of Wales, and his difficult brother Dafyddd was allocated territories in mid-north Wales whilst Owain was given control of the Llŷn peninsula.   Edward, however, was not taking any chances, and he continued with his castle building programme, unambiguously reinforcing his message that Wales was under English control, with Rhuddlan performing the role as the administrative headquarters for the region.  Should any attempts at rebellion be attempted in the future, Edward and his supporters would be ready.

Why Rhuddlan?

What were the strategic advantages that made Edward I choose Rhuddlan as the location for his third castle, his new administrative headquarters for north Wales?

First, the castle is right on the edge of the River Clywd, a fairly narrow but very attractive ribbon of blue threading its way between the fields, all the more impressive when you know that the river actually ran along a slightly different course until Edward canalized it and had it dredged to provide a deep-water channel for connecting the castle to the coast and the Dee Estuary. The River Clywd become un-navigable not far south of Rhuddlan.  The link to the estuary connected Rhuddlan both to Flint Castle and Chester to its east and then, later, to Edward’s castles at Conwy and Caernarvon in the west.

Photograph of Rhuddlan Castle in the context of the River Clwyd floodplain and the coast to the north. Rhuddlan Castle is at bottom left, near the rear foot of the RCAHMW dragon logo.  Source: Coflein, archive number 6356180 / AP_2007_2032

The castle itself sits above a very wide, low floodplain, on an area of raised land.  Standing on the battlements, reached by modern spiral staircases, the views over the surrounding landscape are remarkable, providing an excellent impression of how well the castle was positioned for sighting oncoming threats.  Economically, the wide floodplain was ideal for the development of a new town, with potential for raising livestock and agriculture.

Until Conwy was built, Rhuddlan was conveniently located as a regional HQ just on the edge of Llywelyn’s territory, and it was his most important base in Wales.  By the time Conwy Castle was up and running, Rhuddlan had become secondary in importance, but was still garrisoned and was very important in Edward’s chain of defences.

The Designers and the Design

The outer curtain wall, which only survives in very small sections, followed the perimeter of the revetted dry moat, and enabled archers in the battlements of the castle to fire over the heads of those protecting the outer defences.

Rhuddlan has a very distinctive look and feel to it, containing some innovative features that were carried through to other castles in the northeast.  The first architect to work on Rhuddlan, who was probably responsible for its layout and some of its initial design elements, was king’s engineer Master Bertram, who had been employed by Henry III is Gascony, and who brought with him Gascon design principles.  He was replaced after six months by Master James of St George, whose work Edward had seen in France at the castle of St Georges d’Esperanche, and who went on to build Edward’s great castles at Conwy, Caernarvon, Harlech and Beaumaris.

The most obvious novel feature of the design, when compared to Flint, was the use of both an inner and a very short outer curtain wall, shown in the photograph above, a concentric arrangement of defences that formed the template for Edward’s later castles, including nearby Denbigh, built in 1282.  The lower outer curtain wall, which at Rhuddlan was installed along the inner perimeter of a revetted dry moat, itself impressively lined with stone, enabled archers on the battlements of the main castle to aim beyond those defending the outer curtain wall without endangering them, whilst providing two lines of defence for the castle and its defenders.

Nice to see part of the original gateway in this 19th century watercolour by David Cox. Source: Victoria and Albert Museum

Originally a formal gateway granted access across the moat and the short outer curtain wall into the riverside entrance between the first pair of distinctive twinned towers.  Diagonally across the inner ward a second pair of twinned towers gave access via a secondary entrance. On the other two corners of the main castle were another two towers, each single.  All the towers, including the river tower, were 4 storeys high, including a subterranean basement in each.

Building the castle

The first task was to build defensive ditches, which which would offer protection for the construction camp as the castle was built, and would later become the dry moat.  At Flint Castle 1800 ditchers, known as fossatores, were employed for thus task, as well as the digging of the ditch and banks for the town defences, and it is probable that a similar number was employed at Rhuddlan, sourced from all over England, some of whom were forced labour.  It is possible that a proportion of the fossatores who had been employed at Flint were now deployed at Rhuddlan.

As the castle began to take shape, skilled craftsmen were also imported, including carpenters and masons. Carpenters would have been vital for the build, as they were responsible for the scaffolding as well as various buildings in both inner and outer wards, and other architectural features.  Masons used a mixture of stone types for the construction, all available locally, including yellow and red sandstones, the latter more vulnerable to erosion over the centuries than the yellow, and the grey limestone.   Extensive robbing from the lower levels of the castle after it was slighted (damaged to prevent re-use) after the English Civil War in the 17th Century gives the impression of a serious attack of delamination, but as peculiar as it looks helpfully reveals the underlying construction, showing that the the more enduring limestone covered more vulnerable sandstones.

View of Rhuddlan from the west showing what it may have looked like by the beginning of the 14th century. Illustration by Terry Ball. Source: Taylor / Cadw 2004, p.3

In 1278 sufficient progress had been made for the king and queen to stay at the castle, and in 1280 the towers were roofed in lead and in 1281 the king’s hall was roofed with shingles.  A well was sunk into the centre of the inner ward, 50ft deep.

Whilst work on the castle proceeded, one of the most impressive of the civil engineering feats at Rhuddlan was completed simultaneously.  The river Clwyd was diverted from its natural course, and canalized for two miles (3.5km), the work of 968 workers who were imported to Rhuddlan for the task in 1277, providing the castle with deep channel access to the coast, suitable for sea-going vessels, avoiding the need for trans-shipping.  This met Edward’s requirement for a fluid and seamless communications network.

There was space by the riverside tower, known today as Gillot’s Tower, for a single vessel to put in to dock at high tide, and a river gate alongside the tower, improving efficiencies for loading and unloading.  As Rhuddlan always had a garrison, and was on a number of occasions the base from which forces departed towards Snowdonia, it was often provisioned from Ireland with livestock and grain.  A military cemetery was established at the castle, a clear indication that Edward was expecting casualties in his dealings with Wales.

Work was suspended during renewed hostilities in 1282, when Llywelyn’s brother Dafydd instigated another rebellion against Edward I.  Dafydd attacked Hawarden Castle on 21st March, Palm Sunday.  His action encouraged other Welsh landholders to retaliate in kind, but it was not until June that Llywelyn took the decision to join his brother’s rebellion.  Although the Welsh rebellion seemed to gain ground for a while, the English assembled a substantial force at Rhuddlan, consisting of around 9000 men, which advanced into Wales taking several Welsh castles as they proceeded.  The castle was re-provisioned by ship from Ireland with livestock and cereals.  This time there was no peace treaty, and Llywelyn was killed on the battle field in the same year, whilst Dafydd was eventually caught in June 1283 and held at Rhuddlan Castle before being put on trial in Shrewsbury for treason, after which he was tortured and executed.  The cost was massive, some £120,000 (£83,288,423.43 in today’s money, according to the National Archives Currency Converter) with £50,000 having been raised by a tax on English residents.  There was also a huge cost in terms of English life;  the military cemetery established at Rhuddlan had run out of space by October 1282.

Work had resumed on Rhuddlan following the conflict and although there are no records of damage to the castle at that time, records of repairs do survive and these suggest that Rhuddlan had come under attack.  A record survives for the payment of 64 shillings to “Adam the tailor” for red silk to make pennons and royal standards for Rhuddlan.  As if the massive castle itself was not a sufficient statement of English power in the region, it was to be adorned with the rich and brightly coloured symbols of English monarchy.

The 50ft / 15m well in the inner ward

Today it is difficult to conceive of a royal court that was constantly on the move, but in the Medieval period, royal authority was reinforced by the movement of the monarch to properties around his kingdom, both his own and those of favoured aristocrats.  After the execution of Dafydd, Edward took his court on a tour of various provincial areas, whilst work continued at Rhuddlan.  He was back at Rhuddlan for Christmas.  Between 1283 and 1286 further investment was made on the royal apartments and chapel, both of which would have been in the wooden buildings in the inner ward, together with the kitchens.  Beam holes in the walls of the castle’s interior show where the roof beams were installed.  A well was sunk in the centre of the inner ward.  The outer ward would also have been filled with buildings, of a more utilitarian variety, including at least one granary, a forge, stables and storage facilities.

Arnold Taylor quotes a figure of £9613 2s 8 3/4d for the building of Rhuddlan between 1277 and 1282.  According to the National Archives Currency Converter, this would be some £6,672,184.58 in today’s money (or 11,209 horses or 21,362 cows or 961,313 days of a skilled tradesman’s labour).

Edward’s new borough and town

Plan of Rhuddlan. Source: Arnold Taylor/Cadw 2004, p.9

As at Flint a new borough was created and provided with defences and English settlers were incentivized to live and work there.  The new town, known as an “implanted bastide” after prototypes in Gascony, was built to the northwest of the the old town and was granted its charter in 1278.  This new-town bastide concept and its management are discussed in more detail on the post about Flint Castle.  Today’s town follows the original layout of the new town, its streets originally dividing the town into five sections leading down to a bridge across the river, with the High Street, Church Street, Castle Street, Parliament Street and Gwindy street being the key survivors.

The town was defended on three sides by a ditch with flanking banks, possibly topped with a timber palisade, a section of which survives off Gwindy Street, shown in the illustration and photograph below.  In the 1960s the complete length of the ditch survived north of the town, but by 1970 only the Gwindy Street section remained. Excavation of part of the defences, known as Plot 0, was undertaken when the land was due to be sold for development, but due to the heavily eroded state of the banks was unable to confirm if there were timber defensive features.  The fourth side of the defences was made up by a cliff running down to the river.

Source: Quinnell and Blockley 1994

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What remains of the double banks and ditch that surrounded the new town of Rhuddlan

Although it might have seemed like an unattractive proposition to be an immigrant English population living in a defended town in ostensibly hostile territory, there was a huge demand for land in England at that time, and the new towns in Wales represented great opportunity as well as risk, particularly as charters offered far more favourable conditions for the English than their Welsh neighbours.  Marc Morris refers to them as “those enclaves of English privilege, where the Welsh were obliged to trade but could not live and where the legal discrimination between the two peoples was a fact of every day existence.”  The risk for these settlers was very real, and it was the towns rather than the castles that were targeted by Dafydd in 1282, in Aberystwyth, Denbigh and Rhuddlan.
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The Statute of Rhuddlan of March 1284

Peniarth MS 41 a 15th century copy of the Statute of Rhuddlan. Source: National Library of Wales, via Wikipedia

In 1284 Edward I formalized how Wales to was to be governed and ruled after the deaths of Llywelyn in 1282 and Dafydd in 1283 during Dafydd’s ill-conceived rebellion of 1282.  The document that captured his requirements was the Statute of Rhuddlan or Statue of Wales, which was issued by Edward I from Rhuddlan whilst he was in residence. Although Edward had been sufficiently diplomatic to recognize different interests and hierarchical claims within Wales after 1277 for the sake of peace, in 1282 his aim was to bring the entire of Wales into a single administrative system controlled by England.

The Statue of Rhuddlan, part territorial administration and part legal treatise, handled Wales as a single homogenous unit, an extension of England and her criminal legal system.  Wales was divided into new English-style shires:  Flint, Merioneth, Caernarvon, Anglesey, Cardigan and Carmarthen, a structure that endured until 1536 when the Act of Union was passed.  An English administrative hierarchy was put into place with officials and administrators answering to a new justiciar based in northwest Wales. Legally, the Statue was an interesting mixture of English law with some concessions to Welsh traditions.  Criminal law was English, but the Statute allowed for Welsh traditions of civil law to be maintained for matters like contracts, inheritance, land deals and debt handling.

Edward’s castle building continued unabated even as the statute was being written up in Rhuddlan, announced and enforced.  It is thought that it was at Rhuddlan that Edward declared that the title and role of prince of Wales would pass to his own son and to the future sons of English kings.  Edward’s first child, who became Edward II, was born at Caernarfon in April 1284, in the month following the statute, and was officially granted the title of Prince of Wales in 1301.   The title has been handed down from reigning monarch to eldest son ever since that date, most recently on the death of Queen Elizabeth II when, the former Prince of Wales, Charles, having acceded to the throne on 10th September 2022, the title passed to his eldest son, Prince William.

Rhuddlan Castle after Edward I

Rebellion of October 1294

Resentment in Wales continued to fester, and in October 1294 Madog ap Llywelyn, a relation of Llyweln the Great, and Morgan ap Maredudd, both important land owners in northwest Wales laid siege to Edward’s castles at Criccieth, Conwy and Harlech.  This followed particularly harsh taxes imposed by Edward, that discriminated against the Welsh, and also Edward’s demand for men to fight in Gascony.  Rhuddlan served as a jumping-off point for Edward’s response to this uprising in March 1295, but Conwy was by now at the heart of the action, and Edward’s new headquarters whilst Caernarfon Castle was still being built (and which was damaged during the attack).  By June 1295 the uprising had been put down and order was restored.

Owain Glyn Dŵr, 1400-c.1410

In 1400, during the reign of Henry IV, Owain Glyn Dŵr, having been declared Prince of Wales by a group of his followers met at Glyndyfrdwy, lead a new rebellion in response to harsh conditions imposed by the English crown, and Rhuddlan was one of the castles and towns that came under attack. Rhuddlan Castle held out against the assault, but the town itself was brutalized, and there are indications such as the failure to properly repair town defences that the borough never recovered.

The English Civil War, c.1642-51

In the Civil War of 1642-48, the castle was held by the king’s forces but although it initially held out, it was surrendered to the parliamentarian commander-in-chief Major-General Thomas Mytton, and a decision was made in the House of Commons to slight the castle (render it unusable), which was actioned in May 1648. This was the fate of several medieval castles that were employed during the Civil War.

Rhuddlan Castle in 18th and 19th century art

John Boydell (1720-1804). “A North West View of Rhuddlan Castle in Flintshire,” in 1749. Source: People’s Collection Wales

In my posts about Flint and Denbigh I had a look at some of the art works that were produced in the 18th and 19th centuries when medieval buildings with their air of romance and mystery found an enthusiastic audience amongst painters of all skill levels.  There are so many art works of Rhuddlan that it is almost impossible to pick and choose, so I have selected views that show different aspects of the castle, and have added a link at the end of Sources to some more examples.

John Boydell was a publisher, talented engraver and promoter of art, as well as doing a stint as Lord Mayor of London. His 1749 image above not only captures the castle but the attached village and the distinctive bridge and that captures something of village life, with men fishing, a barge pulled up at the river edge, and people approaching on horseback and foot.  The strongly featured bridge is typical of his work – in 1747 he published The Bridge Book, featuring six landscapes all of which showcased distinctive bridges.  He did a rather nice one of Denbigh Castle too.

From the 1781 edition of “A tour In Wales” by Thomas Pennant (1726-1798) Source: Wikipedia via the National Library of Wales

Thomas Pennant was born in Flintshire and is best known for his remarkable A Tour In Wales, which eventuallyran to eight illustrated volumes, capturing three journeys that he made in Wales between 1773 and 1776. The National Library of Wales says that one of his greates gifts was “his ability to foster friendships. His appreciation of people was very well-known and because of this he always received sensible and full answers to all his enquiries for information.”  He was a great collector, but his interest was always in the subject matter and the details captured, rather than particular artistic merit.  The painting of Rhuddlan below was in the 1781 edition, capturing something of the sense of the isolation of the castle in a wide landscape, a contrasting and more delicate approach to Boydell’s bright and lively image.

Rhuddlan Castle as captured by artist George Pickering (1794-1857) and engraved by George Hawkins the Younger (1819-1852). See the National Library of Wales catalogue for a bigger image in which details can be clearly seen.

A completely different approach was taken by lithographer George Pickering the Younger, who got up close and personal with the castle, sacrificing the general form of the castle in favour of picking out particular features.  He artist looks out over the river and the floodplain beyond, the sun low in the sky, with village buildings shown in the background, including St Mary’s Church.  The ivy clinging to the towers is also shown on Peter Ghent’s painting below.  Cattle are shown grazing on the foreshore, a small sailing vessel is pulled up on the other side of the bridge, and there are other visitors inspecting the site.

Rhuddlan Castle c.1885 by Peter Ghent (1857–1911). Williamson Art Gallery and Museum.  Source: ArtUK

The oil on canvas painting of Rhuddlan Castle by Peter Ghent, now at the Williamson Art Gallery and Museum in Birkenhead, is a rather more impressionistic view of the castle, showing the ivy and the surrounding trees, and cattle cooling themselves in the river.   The riverside tower is not shown, although part of the river wall is shown.  The russet and green palette is characteristic of Ghent’s work.  Ghent was born in Birkenhead and attended Birkenhead School of Art.  He moved to Conwy, which he used as a base for exploring Welsh landscapes in both oil and watercolour.
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Rhuddlan Castle Today

The castle was given into state care in 1944 and conservation work began in 1947.  It was transferred from the Department of the Environment to the newly created Cadw, the Welsh Government’s historic environment service, in 1984.  It is beautifully cared for, without a single blade of grass out of place.  The ivy that once ran riot over its walls has been completely eliminated which given how invasive ivy is was a considerable task.  The castle continues to undergo conservation work as needed to prevent deterioration and to ensure that it remains safe.

The castle was deliberately slighted (i.e. partly demolished) at the end of the English Civil War in the 16th century so that it could not be reused in any future offensives, which accounts for its ruined state. This does not impede an understanding of the castle and its features, many of which remain.  Some of the damage is more recent.  The lower courses of stone have been extensively robbed since the 16th century for local construction projects, revealing the inner filling of the walls, and leaving it looking very denuded and rather peculiar at its ground floor level, but allowing the inner construction of the thick walls to be seen.

Although there are no floors left in the towers and inner walls, there are fireplaces and beam slots (the beams supporting the floors at each level) that show where each of the storeys was located.  Some of the fireplaces, like the one on the left, retain black burn marks, a really evocative link to the past.  Many of the fireplaces were quite huge and, given the diameter of the towers, must have provided substantial heat for the castle guardians and administrators who were based there even in the coldest Welsh winters, even if the space was a little cramped.

A number of modern excavations have been carried out at Rhuddlan, between 1973 and 1988 helping to clarify some details about the medieval history of Rhuddlan as well as information about earlier phases, particularly during the Norman and prehistoric periods (Neolithic, Bronze Age and Iron Age, including some particularly fine lithics and decorated pebbles dating to the Mesolithic).  These are summarized by Quinnell and Blockley in their 1994 publication, which can be downloaded from the Archaeology Data Service website.

Excavated Areas in Rhuddlan between 1969 to 1973. Click to expand.  Source: Quinnell and Blockley 1994, p4

Excavated object from Rhuddlan. Source: Quinnell and Blockley 1994, p.184

 

St Mary’s Church, Rhuddlan

St Mary’s, only a five minute walk from the castle, was closed when I visited, so I am going to cover it on another post next summer when it re-opens to visitors, but it is certainly worth mentioning here, as it looks as though it is a splendid piece of later medieval heritage.  An earlier Norman church was built to the east of the castle, but St Mary’s was first built in 1284 and was enlarged in the 15th century.  It has undergone changes over the years, and perennial multi-tasker Sir George Gilbert Scott had a go at it during his restoration of St Asaph’s Cathedral in the 1900s, but by all accounts the restoration appears to have been quite sympathetic. The gilbertscott.org website reports that “Scott treated the old building gently, lowering the floor in the nave and raising it in the chancel, providing some new windows, seating, a vestry and rebuilding the south porch.  He also provided a vestry screen, pulpit, an eagle lectern, altar rail and chancel seats.”  However, Quinnell and Blockley say that the church contains much of the original 13th century architecture in the nave and chancel.  They add that fragments from two different crosses, found during the demolition of a wall near the Vicarage in 1936, are now kept in the church.  Both have inter-laced decoration and have been dated stylistically to the late 10th or early 11th centuries.

If you are there when it is open, it should be well worth visiting at the same time as a trip to the castle (unfortunately the St Mary’s website does not currently show the times when it is open to visitors, but there is an email address).  Even though it was closed, I very much enjoyed a walk around the building and a poke around the churchyard.  Gravestones and their symbolism are eternally fascinating and there are some very good examples of churchyard monuments.

Final Comments

Rhuddlan is visually stunning, and retains plenty of its newly innovated  features to capture interest, demonstrating significant improvements in medieval castle design.  The canalized river showcases both Edward’s obsession with good communication links and the civil engineering skills that were available to him.  As a visitor attraction it is beautifully maintained by Cadw, which is particularly noticeable when comparing it with earlier images of the castle covered in ivy.  Rhuddlan attracted a serious amount of artistic interest, providing views of how it looked in the 18th and 19th centuries and, at the same time, demonstrating the fascination that artists had for medieval ruins. This is a site that really rewards a visit, particularly on a bright sunny day, when the red and yellow sandstones absolutely glow against a blue sky.


Visiting Rhuddlan Castle

Map of the Rhuddlan town trail from the North East Wales website

Rhuddlan is operated by Cadw, and is subject to an entry fee.  Details of opening times and entry charges are on the Cadw website.  There is a free car park, which also has a map of the main features of the town and the route down to Twthill, just five minutes away from the castle.  Beyond Twthill, the footpath passes the Abbey Farm and caravan park, the site of the former Rhuddlan Friary, which is on private land and cannot be visited.

As usual with Cadw venues, there is not much information about the history of Rhuddlan on the Cadw website, but there are plenty of online resources and there is an excellent short (9-page) Cadw guide book available from the ticket office, or from online book retailers, with a 3-D reconstruction and a site plan, as well as a history of the site and a numbered tour of the key features, each with a descriptive paragraph explaining what you’re looking at – well worth the £2.50 that it cost me in the Rhuddlan Castle gift shop.  You are also given a site plan as part of the ticket price, with 7 features picked out and described briefly (bi-lingual English and Welsh).

My battered copy of the Cadw leaflet that is provided with your ticket, showing some of the key features of the castle.  The reverse side shows the same details in Welsh.

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The approach to the castle is on the flat, as is the interior and the walk around the castle, so this is suitable for those with unwilling legs.  As with Flint Castle, the towers are fitted with modern spiral staircases, which will probably not be suitable for unwilling legs, but there is plenty to see without scaling the heights, including excellent views over the floodplain.

The ticket office also has toilets and a small gift shop.  There are no coffee facilities but there is a freezer with ice-creams and a fridge with cold drinks, and there are some tables and chairs outside for a sit down.

It’s a seriously attractive site, and well worth a visit.

Sources

Books and papers

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

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

Dean, Josh and Catherine Jones 2020. Archaeological Watching Brief report for Plas Llewelyn, Rhuddlan. Project code: A0209.1, report no. 0203. Aeon Archaeology
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/92914

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

Quinnell, Henrietta and Marion R. Blockley with Peter Berridge 1994.  Excavations at Rhuddlan, Clwyd 1969-73. Mesolithic to Medieval. CBA Research Report No 95 (1994)
https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archiveDS/archiveDownload?t=arch-281-1/dissemination/pdf/cba_rr_095.pdf

Rowley, T. 1986.  The High Middle Ages, 1200-1550.  Routledge and Kegan Paul

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

Spencer, Dan 2018. The Castle At War in Medieval England and Wales. Amberley Publishing

Stevens, Matthew Frank 2019. The Economy of Medieval Wales 1067 – 1536. University of Wales Press

Taylor, Arnold. 2004.  Rhuddlan Castle.  Abridged from a text by Arnold Taylor. Cadw

Websites

Abbey Farm Caravan and Camping Park
History
https://abbeyfarmrhuddlan.co.uk/portfolio-item/history/#top

Balfour Beatty
Balvac repaired this 13th century castle in North Wales
https://www.balfourbeatty.com/what-we-do/projects/rhuddlan-castle/

Cadw
Rhuddlan Castle
https://cadw.gov.wales/visit/places-to-visit/rhuddlan-castle
Rhuddlan, Norman Borough
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/303586

Coflein
Rhuddlan Castle
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/92914

Ecclesiastical and Heritage World
Rhuddlan Castle: Conservation of Castle River Dock
https://www.ecclesiasticalandheritageworld.co.uk/news/1038-rhuddlan-castle-conservation-of-castle-river-dock

Goldin Fine Art
John Boydell: The Enlightenment Man
https://www.goldinfineart.com/blogs/blog/john-boydell?srsltid=AfmBOop6p7_0_WrJ2Sx_WA4FEs0lZW09ZdoRzqo61Hc6WFokRC3aLG9h

National Library of Wales
A Tour In Wales. Thomas Pennant (eight digitized volumes)
https://www.library.wales/discover-learn/digital-exhibitions/pictures/a-tour-in-wales

Sulis Fine Art
Peter Ghent RCA (1857-1911)
https://www.sulisfineart.com/peter-ghent-rca-1857-1911-late-19th-century-watercolour-cottage-by-a-stream-qo859.html

Rhuddlan Castle in Art

Meisterdrucke
Rhuddlan Castle and Marshes, 1898, unknown artist
https://www.meisterdrucke.ie/fine-art-prints/Unbekannt/785633/Rhuddlan-Castle-and-Marshes.html

ArtUK
Rhuddlan Castle by John Lawson 1868 – 1909. Glasgow Museums Resource Centre
https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/rhuddlan-castle-84929

Darnely Fine Art
Rhuddlan Castle by Norman Wilkinson 1878-1971.
https://darnleyfineart.com/artwork/rhuddlan-castle/

Government Art Collection
Rhuddlan Castle by David Gentleman 1930 –
artcollection.dcms.gov.uk/artwork/17005/

Rhuddlan Castle in Art
Various examples – a good mix
https://jenikirbyhistory.getarchive.net/topics/rhuddlan+castle+in+art

Overleigh Cemetery Self-Guided Geodiversity Tour

Many, many thanks to Paul Woods (Chester Green Badge Guide who leads the cemetery tour Stories in Stone) for sending me the scans of this leaflet by Cheshire RIGS and the Northwest Geodiversity Partnership, apparently published in 2012.  It looks at the most common types of stone used, gives some geological details about it, and discusses how some of it responds to environmental conditions.  I’ve shared the JPEGs below but I have also turned it into a PDF that you can download by clicking here.  I cannot wait to take it for a test drive!

Overleigh Cemetery, Chester #2 – The living, the dead and the visitor

In part 1 of this series on Overleigh Cemetery the economic background to Overleigh Old Cemetery was introduced briefly, and details of the reasons and execution of the foundation of Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries were discussed.  Here, in part 2, both Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries are explored in a little more depth.  There are a great many components that contribute to how a gravestone looks, what it says, and what it meant to the bereaved.  Between the sculptural forms, the symbols used on headstones and the inscriptions, as well as the design of the the cemetery itself and the ways in which it evolved and was used and perceived at different times in the past, Overleigh has a lot to contribute to how we think about Chester and its occupants.

Eliza Margaret Wall, died 1899, aged 30. Other family members were added in future years up to 1936

As a starting point, it is useful to look at who the main users of the cemetery were and are, both living and deceased, before moving on to a general guide to what to look out for if you are a visitor interested in learning about what the cemetery has to offer.

As in part 1, where I have included a photograph of a grave and there is information about it on the Find A Grave website, I have added a link.  For anyone using the database for their own investigations, note that Find A Grave treats Overleigh Old and New cemeteries as two different entities and you have to search under the correct one.

I have stuffed this full of photographs to help explain some of my points, so Part 2 looks bigger than it actually is.  You can click on any of the images to see a bigger version.

With many thanks again to Christine Kemp (Friends of Overleigh Cemetery) for her much-appreciated ongoing help.
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People

Graves represent people, the living and the dead, both entangled in the complexities of funerary rites.

The bereaved

A funeral at Overleigh Old Cemetery. Detail of 19th century engraving of Overleigh Cemetery. Source: Wikipedia

Although this post is about a burial ground and its graves, funerary traditions and practices are all as much, if not infinitely more, about the living.  The need to recognize and commemorate loss, not merely at the funeral but prior to it and after it are essential to people, even today when the traumas associated with death tend to be handled in more internalized ways than in the pre-war periods.

Gravestone of Geoffrey Mascie Taylor, died 1879. If anyone has any idea what the symbol represents at the top of the gravestone, please let me know.

During the Victorian period there was an elaborate process of marking a death, a tradition of precise convention and ritual, expressed both within the family and communally.  When someone dies the living are left behind to handle a loss as best they can, and cemeteries and memorials are only one one part of that process.   The end to end process from death to mourning is all a part of the Victorian experience of bereavement.  Visiting and tending the grave, bringing flowers for the deceased, was part of this process, in which women had a key role, and demonstrating bereavement in public essentially brought the grave into the domestic sphere.  Several of the books listed in the references, go into some detail about the Victorian expressions of mourning, and books by James Stevens Curl in 1972 and Judith Flanders in her recent overview provide great insights, but if you want a much shorter book with a still very comprehensive and well written overview, Helen Frisby’s Traditions of Death and Burial offers an excellent overview of Victorian and later bereavement ceremonies.

John Owens JP, died 1853, age 72.  “A Merciful Man Whose /
Righteousness Shall / Not Be Forgotten.” There are no additional inscriptions on this impressive headstone

In the Victorian period it has been argued that the lead-up to a funeral, the funeral itself and its aftermath were all components of an intention to promote social status, wealth and the knowledge of and participation in deeply embedded social conventions that specified in detail how death should be handled and how mourning should take place.  The Industrial Revolution had created a new type of middle class, many of whom were making livings based on manufacturing and commerce, as well as roles in the growing legal, medical, administrative, banking, and similar sectors. Even though there were more opportunities for social mobility, and the ability for individuals to define themselves in new terms, the aristocracy still provided a model for those with social ambitions.  Conspicuous displays of personal and family identity and wealth had become fundamentally important in this need to establish a dignified and self-important identity at a location between the upper and working classes. It was also important for the lower middle classes to distinguish themselves from those who were less financially robust, doing what was perceived as more menial work, defining themselves as socially distinct from the working class. Hierarchy, with all its subtleties during the Victorian period, was important, deeply-felt, and complex, and much of this is reflected in funerary rituals.

More recently it has also been recognized that elaborate Victorian and early Edwardian funerary ceremonies were not merely social devices but reflected the great trauma associated with loss in a world where medicine was in its infancy and where where the middle class was defining itself within often smaller families than previously.  Sickness and death could be both frequent by comparison to today, and was often profoundly distressing.  At the same time, sanitation and health were slowly improving in the second half of the century, meaning that once childbirth and infancy had been survived, people physically lasted longer than they had done in the past, building relationships but more frequently succumbing to old-age problems, becoming invalids who were cared for within the home.  National and community diseases were frequent, some of them long-lasting, and the role of women in nursing their relatives became increasingly important where professional standards of nursing were, just as much as the professionalization of medicine, in their earliest incarnation.  Middle class family ties, and the Victorian and Edwardian sense of moral responsibility to relatives, ensured that sickness was a very frequent component of family life.

TThe monumental grave shrine of Henry Raikes, died 1854, aged 72, Chancellor of the Chester Diocese and one of the founders of the Chester “Ragged Schools.” Overleigh Old Cemetery..

Relatively recent research has also suggested that working class people felt no less strongly about the loss of their partners, siblings and children.  Many working class families were crowded into insanitary areas all over in Britain, and notable areas have been identified in Chester, forcing people into much closer proximity, and this promoted the transmission of sickness and disease with a consequent cost in terms of poor health. Sickness was handled within families, which caused many problems in household management, where women frequently worked for a living, often in domestic capacities.  This resulted in the occasional recourse to a new breed of hospitals as well as a frequently dubious type of pre-professional paid nursing care. The ease of disease transmission meant that those living so close together and in such insanitary conditions were most at risk of epidemics, and the mortality rate was much higher than in middle class households. There were clubs into which people could pay a subscription to save up for funerals, just as there were clubs to save up for Christmas, and there are several pauper graves at Overleigh. But for some the costs were too high, so many graves were unmarked, and the grief of some families was never recorded meaning that these losses are not captured.

The monument for Joseph Randles, died 1917, aged 65-66. Note the partially veiled urn, which will be mentioned later.

It is easy to forget that until the NHS was established in 1948, most people still died at home rather than in hospitals, hospices or nursing homes, and that families housed the deceased, until burial, within their homes, and those deceased, laid out in front parlours in their coffins, were visited by friends and families.  The introduction of the funerary Chapel of Rest in the later Victorian period helped to reduce the time when the deceased remained in the house, but it was still a common part of a death that the dead remained amongst the living until the funeral well into the 20th century.

The focus on ceremony and ritual altered over time, with a considerable change of direction from the elaborate ceremonies of the Victorians to the minimalist approaches taken today. This does not mean a growth of indifference to death, but it does indicate changes within society. The beginnings of this are to be found in the Edwardian period, particularly during and after the First World War, when the nation’s horses that traditionally pulled hearses were required for the war effort. Funerals became even less demonstrative after World War 2.  This will be discussed a little more in Part 3.

On this Armstrong family cenotaph and headstone in the Overleigh New Cemetery, three sons predeceased their parents aged 32 in 1917, 22 in 1918, and 39 in 1927, the first two of them at war, all of which must have been a shocking loss.  Their parents are commemorated here too.

In the cemetery itself, the most obvious incorporation of gravestones into the world of the living is the highly visible custom of flowers and other gifts having been left in front of a headstone.  Fresh flowers in particular give the sense of a grave being regularly tended but artificial flowers and other items also serve to mark the continued attention to a grave by those who wish to indicate their recognition and care.  My father, who was born in 1936 and grew up on the Wirral, says that when he was a small boy he was taken regularly to the graves of his relatives in Liverpool, where there was a flower shop outside the gates, and flowers were purchased, a visit was made to family graves, and a picnic was enjoyed nearby.  It was a visit of celebration, continuity and memory, a positive occasion.

The other most obvious indication of a gravestone continuing to have a role is the presence of multiple inscriptions on many memorials, as individual family members are lost and the living are compelled to update the inscriptions.  Many of these gravestones capture this passage of time and accumulated loss very effectively, telling long narratives of family loss, sometimes covering several decades, and suggesting multi-generational involvement with funerary activities and commemoration, the sense of a continuum between the past, the present and the potential future.

The Deceased

The deceased may seem to be passive and inanimate, but they have voices in at least three ways.  First, they may have had input into their own graves, including its location, its design and its use as a single plot or a family plot.   In this sense they are very much agents of their own burials.  Second, the very process of memorialization, whether by family or friends, gives the departed an enduring presence that lasts into the modern world, a very material presence.  Some of those who died may also have obituaries to be found in newspaper archives, and accounts of inquests into their deaths, filling out a much richer picture of former lives, and those who were in positions of influence will have had much more information captured in official documents and even preserved journals.  In this way they can contribute very significantly to modern research projects, as much as that may have surprised them.  Third, they occupy the living landscape of cemeteries, spaces that occupy often new places in modern life and that are valued today.  At Overleigh I have seen people walking from one end to the other pause to read an inscription, and dog walkers wandering around, pausing to take note of a particular grave.  The dead area still amongst the living, even when they are not even slightly connected today with their ancestors.  Those who care for their graves, and tours that bring visitors, all do their essential bit to keep the deceased amongst the living.

Art Deco style headstone of Ralph Esplin, died 1935, aged 67

It has been the experience of cemeteries since the beginning of the 17th century in Britain that graves are tended for perhaps three generations after which they fall out of use, as families move away or simply move on.  Genealogy makes some of them  briefly relevant, but the funerary landscape is a strange mixture of the abandoned and the perpetuated.  Local authorities and Friends societies contribute to the task of caring for abandoned graves, but this is a very different relationship from those that are still visited by family members.  In Victorian cemeteries, there is always a rather strange dynamic between the historical sections and those that are still the essence of loss, bereavement and and ongoing engagement.

The deceased in the early periods of the cemetery capture something of Chester’s evolving social, economic and cultural endeavors, as it attempted to secure its future and create a stable and prosperous community.  Those who are represented in the cemetery are largely those who were either already successful in establishing themselves within this community or were making the attempt to improve themselves and gain status; the unmarked pauper and cholera graves are amongst the hidden histories of Overleigh and of Chester itself.  There is time-depth here too, as we can track changes from 1848, when the Old cemetery was established, through the Edwardian period and both World Wars, and the changes during the post-war period up until the present day.  I have been learning how much work it takes to see beyond the sea of graves and to read history captured in the cemetery landscape and monuments, and it is all there to be found, the world of the dead contributing to an understanding of the transforming past and how society’s views on death and commemoration changed.  Parts 3 and 4 will go into this in more detail.
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Visiting Overleigh for the first time – what to look out for

The central monument, in rose granite, is a truncated obelisk, indicating a life cut short and usually associated with the loss of younger people, although not invariably. In this case, Harry MacCabe who died aged 26.

I have started here with the most obvious way of getting to grips with a cemetery – how things look when you walk through for the first time.  This is about shapes, materials and the visual cues that you can pick up at first glance to give an indication of what the casual visitor may want to focus on during a first visit.

The majority of monuments at Overleigh are vertical, unlike the variety seen in local churchyards that include a variety of other horizontal and chest-type forms, as discussed in connection with the churchyard at Gresford, some 10 miles south of Chester.  The example below shows one of the  horizontal representations, which are less numerous, although of course by being less visible are more likely to be overlooked.

Although I discuss Overleigh as a site that helps us to connect with history, it is important to remember that both Old and New parts of Overleigh are still in use for new interments and cremation memorials, and that families and friends are still regular visitors to visit their departed and tend their plots.  All visits by those of us who are not connected with family or friends interred in the cemetery need to explore with respect and care for those other visitors who are at the cemetery for the purpose of connecting with the departed.

The horizontal gravestone of Major Richard Cecil Davies is one of the relatively few gravestones that are not vertical. Some, of course, have fallen over and are now just as horizontal as this one, but this was always intended to lie over the grave and face upwards.  These are always vulnerable to being taken over by grass and weeds, and need an eye kept on them.

Themes and symbols

Author James Curl (1975) found this advert in an 1860s guide to Highgate Cemetery in London, showing a range of grave monuments available for purchase. Most of these have equivalents at Overleigh.

How were headstones and monuments chosen?  From the 1830s onward stonemasons had catalogues from which headstones could be chosen, just as there are today.  Today there are also catalogues from which to choose, many of them online and offering a wide range of alternatives.  At the same time, some families might prefer a grave that is similar to that of other family members, and some might want to emulate styles admired in a local cemetery.  The imagery on the graves during the Victorian and Edwardian periods formed a rich language of meaning that is understood by all, including the illiterate.  Sometimes the imagery used on a gravestone may say as much if not more about the emotional relationship between the living and the deceased than the text inscription, including the hopes that the living had for their dearly departed.

Headstone of George Henry, with a lily, the symbol of mourning, purity and peace

When you are walking around, you will notice that certain themes are recurring in the designs of the gravestones in both halves of the cemetery.  These represent specific choices that people have made and the ideas that they wish to communicate.  These can either be sculptural memorials or more modest headstones that incorporate carved imagery.  Sometimes headstones just include text, and sometimes there is just a kerb with no headstone which usually lacks imagery, but the symbolic medium is often an important part of the message that a gravestone communicates, imparting a different type of information from the text, often rather more subtle and conceptual than what is written, sometimes capturing emotions and ideas rather more effectively than words.  There is a usually a minimalist formality in what is written, but this does not extend to imagery and symbols, which can be far more expressive.  The themes and symbols mentioned below are just examples that I have found in Overleigh Cemetery.

The memorial to Private Arthur Walton, died 1918 aged 27.

In the memorial to Private Arthur Walton shown left, the overall language of the iconography, seems to reflect the concepts of Christianity and the life of Jesus in response to the loss of a much-loved son in the First World War.  The crown can symbolize victory but is also the emblem of Jesus and Christian immortality. Beneath it, the Biblical quote “He died that we might live” refers to Jesus, but might also refer to the sacrifice of Arthur Walton himself.  The heart is a symbol of everlasting love of Christ and also of the charity espoused by St Paul, but also captures personal love. The grapes and vine-leaves are usually related to themes connected with Jesus including the blood of Christ, the Last Supper and the Holy Sacrament. Overall the iconography of the grave is probably one of personal sacrifice and its association with Christian values and the sacrifice of Christ himself, whilst at the same time demonstrating very deep personal loss.  As well as being very moving, this is a good example of how the imagery can contribute to the overall narrative of a headstone or memorial.

Hester Ann Clemence, died 1914, aged 62, with other members of the family commemorated on the pedestal  steps beneath the floral Celtic style cross. The steps often represent the steps representing Christ’s climb to Calvary.  All of the creativity and suggestion of emotion in the monument is in the design; the inscription is minimalist.  Although the encircled cross was originally associated with Irish graves, it became popular throughout Britain during the 19th century.

Of the overtly Christian-themed grave markers the dominant shapes are the crosses that re-appear for the first time since the Reformation during the 19th century, symbols both of Christ’s sacrifice and of resurrection, and proliferate at Overleigh, from the very simple to the seriously elaborate.  Crosses carved with decorated themes are widespread through the cemetery.  Although there had been very few crosses before the Victorian period, due to fear of association with papism.  A popular choice at Overleigh was the so-called Celtic cross, with Celtic-style designs covering the surface.  A popular variant has the top of the cross contained within a stone circle.  Although originally associated with Irish and Scottish graves, after 1890s in particular, when a Celtic cross was chosen by the celebrated art critic John Ruskin for his own memorial in Coniston, it became popular for burials of all religious persuasion.   A cross on a set of steps is often intended to represent the steps the Christ climbed to Calvary, but they might also simply be chosen for their monumental impact.  Flowers on a cross are indicative of immortality.  There are quite a few angels, messengers of God and the guardians of the dead who also transport the soul to heaven. The letters IHS often occur on graves in both urban and rural cemeteries and represent a Christogram, the three letters of the name of Jesus in Greek (iota, eta, sigma).

The truncated obelisk erected in memory of Francis Aylmer Frost. This photograph was taken by Christine Kemp when this area was not the overgrown jungle that it is now (you can see another photograph of this column, as it is today just below. Copyright Christine Kemp.

Many emblems are appropriated from earlier periods.  Pagan themes include the many Egyptian-style obelisks (more about which you can read on my post about the Barnston memorial in Farndon).  A splendid fluted truncated Doric column, a not uncommon cemetery icon but in this particular case perhaps a nod to Chester’s Roman past, is located just inside the River Lane gate to the Old Cemetery, its truncation indicating a life cut short, and generally indicating someone who died young, although in this case Francis Aylmer Frost was 68; another truncated column was dedicated to Harry MacCabe who was 26.  It is not the only one in the Old and New cemeteries, but it is by far the most impressive, shown at far left in the image below.  Its base is so badly overgrown with viciously thorny brambles that I couldn’t begin to find an engraving without losing half my hands and arms, and so remain ignorant as to who it commemorated.  I need some garden shears next time!

Truncated column; weeping woman; angel; Celtic crosses, temple-style gravestone. Click to enlarge

 

Floral themes on the grave of Thomas George Crocombe, died 1913 aged 20, the eldest of 9 children. Overleigh Old Cemetery.

Flowers are a popular carved theme on headstones.  Some have specific associations, such as the lily, standing for purity and a return to innocence; the rose, which indicates love (different coloured roses mean slightly different things), lilies of the valley, with connotations of innocence and renewal; daffodils that, flowering in spring, represent rebirth; and daisies, which symbolize innocence and were a popular choice for child graves.  A sprig of wheat often indicated someone who had lived to a good age.  Ivy, ironically, is representative of life everlasting and due to its enduring character. It is often show winding its way around cross headstones; today rampant ivy is one of the greatest causes of damage to graves in cemeteries and churchyards.  The most popular of birds shown on graves were doves, symbolizing either the Holy Spirit guiding the deceased to heaven, or general values of spirituality, hope and peace.  There are several at Overleigh.

Detail of the headstone of Harriett Garner and other family members with clasped hand motif. in this case it perhaps suggests father and daughter.  Harriett’s father, who gave evidence at the inquest into her suicide, was certainly very distressed by the loss of his daughter.  They are usually quite common in cemeteries, I have noticed only a few at Overleigh.

An urn is a very well represented motif, quite often topping a headstone as a sculptural component, and indicating the soul of the deceased; when draped with a veil they may indicate the soul departing or represent grief of mourners.  Angels are popular sculptural elements at Overleigh, indicating the soul of the deceased being accompanied to heaven.  Much less frequently shown than angels, but popular in many cemeteries, are images is that of a weeping woman, representing the loss of a person and the mourning of the bereaved.  Small statues of children often indicate the grave of a young child.  Clasped hands, common at some cemeteries but apparently not as well represented at Overleigh, indicate unity and may suggest the bonds of husband and wife, or of friendship or the hope to be reunited with loved ones; some have been carved to show the clothing and character of the hands as distinctly male or female.  An anchor may show that the deceased was professionally connected with the sea, but may also represent hope; a variation is the anchor with a woman, the embodiment of hope, although I have not seen an example of the latter at Overleigh.  Books may have many meanings – sometimes they are associated with the Bible of the clergy or the work of scholars, whilst others may mean knowledge or wisdom, or may simply represent chapters in life.

On the left, the headstone of Arthur Davies. The text wrapped around the anchor reads “Hope is the Anchor of the Soul.” The inscription contains other commemorations.  The headstone of Florence Taylor Battersby and other family members in the middle, topped with a dove.  The grave at far right shows the Christogram IHS, an abbreviation of the name of Jesus in Greek and Latin.  Click to enlarge

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The child grave of Violet Patterson, died 1929, as well as other members of her family, one of whom, Edward Andrew Patterson, who died and was cremated in 2007, is inscribed on one page of the book. This is one of the longer enduring of the graves at Overleigh, in use for 78 years.

A book included on a gravestone may indicate any of a number of ideas.  Prosaically, the grave’s owner might be  involved in the printing, publishing or book-selling trades.  Alternatively they might be a scholar or, if the book is intended to be a Bible, a cleric or someone particularly devout.  In cemeteries one side of an open book often has the name of the husband or wife, whilst the other side remains blank until the other partner has also died, when the blank page can be completed. Sometimes the blank page is left incomplete, possibly because the former partner has remarried or moved out of the area, or has left no provision for the disposal of his or her remains.

There are also more modern emblems and themes that people have incorporated into grave carvings. In the Overleigh New Cemetery in particular there are Art Deco, Arts and Crafts and Art Nouveau themes.  Although often contained within crosses, the Art Nouveau decorations seem otherwise celebratory of life.  The combination of Christian crosses with modern themes perhaps positions religion within a modern context where there is no need to refer back to much older historical values in order legitimize Christian beliefs.  One of them, dedicated to Anna Maria Meredith, has a Biblical quote on it (fourth from the left, a most unusual headstone, although there is a second example in the cemetery).  The memorial to Frederick Coplestone, third from left, shows St Francis of Assisi.  It will be discussed further in Part 4.

Click to enlarge

 

Memorial in the cremation Garden of Reflection showing a locomotive. Roy Douggie, died 2010 aged 77, and his wife Beryl, died 2016, aged 79. That sycamore is going to need weeding out if it is not going to do permanent damage!

As can be seen on more modern gravestones and memorials, most of which can be seen in the Garden of Reflection in Overleigh Old Cemetery and at the very far end of Overleigh New Cemetery and even more dramatically at the post-war cemetery at Blacon, gravestone types and materials have become standardized, and the rich visual language of symbols and icons employed became much less varied over time, and are now often eliminated entirely, although secular themes are sometimes chosen instead.  In modern cemeteries, regulations about the nature of grave markers limit potential for developing new monumental statements, but the decline in religious involvement in everyday life is also a part of this trend.  The language of religious imagery to convey complex values (semiotics) now takes a back seat, even where commemoration is required, with modern secular images often chosen instead of Christian ones.  There are exceptions, and Roman Catholic memorials can still be quite elaborate.  Today modern gravestones and memorials can be less about choosing the perfect message for eternity than creating an appropriate personal message and style for the here and now, which is an attractive feature of many modern memorials.
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There are many more symbols and themes on gravestones than those covered in my brief overview above, some quite common at cemeteries, some unique, and it is worth looking out for some interesting examples.
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Inscriptions

Alice Maud Gwynne, died 1921 at the age of 42 which bears the inscription “There’s no pain in the homeland,” the monument topped with an urn

Inscriptions can be presented using various different fonts, sizes and colours all on the same monument, which creates a sense of texture.  Inscriptions are often filled with colour to make the text stand out from the background stone and make it easier to read.  Lead lettering was occasionally inset into stone to achieve the same impact.  The different styles of text create a great deal of variety in the visual impact of the cemetery.

Headstones in Overleigh tend to be fairly minimalist in terms of the information they provide, many simply naming family members and providing a date of birth and death, perhaps a note about the role of the deceased, particularly where this was a high status position. Most contain some sort of affectionate phrase or such as “In loving memory of,” “in affectionate remembrance of,” “beloved wife,” “dear husband,” etc. Others may contain a little more information.  Some may state the town or village name of the village, or even the property, where the deceased was resident.

The commemoration to 9 year old Walter Crocombe, his mother Sarah, 68, her husband George, 88, and their 4 year old grandson Eric.

Multiple dedications following the initial interment help to give a sense of the family context of both the first and and subsequent family members, and the longer they were in use, the more resonance they had for the family as successive generations interacted with the monument not merely to a single person but to a family commitment and tradition.  The child grave of Violet Patterson, died 1929, includes dedications to other members of her family, and was in use for 78 years, with the latest  inscription dedicated to a family member who died and was cremated in 2007.

Only war graves tend to give details of how death happened, such as “killed in action” or “killed in flying accident,” although there are never any details.  A great many refer to the deceased having fallen asleep, a euphemism for having died that skirts around and sometimes deliberately disguises how the death occurred.  Occasionally a grave will refer to the suffering of an individual, although I have seen fewer at Overleigh than in churchyards.  The commemoration of Sarah Crocombe at Overleigh reads “Her pain was great / She murmured not / But hung on to / Our Saviour’s cross.”  The monument to Alice Maud Gwynne comments “There’s no pain in the homeland,” which implies that she may have experienced some suffering towards the end of her life.

The memorial to Josephine Enid Whitlow in Overleigh New Cemetery (thanks Chris!) who died in 1938.

For obvious reasons, child graves can be more expressive than others about personal feelings of grief and loss.  The grave of 2-3 year old Josephine Enid Whitlow in Overleigh New Cemetery, for example, shown towards the top of this post, has a statue of a small child labled “JOSIE” (Josephine Enid Whitlow) accompanied by the the inscription “Jesus Walked Down The Path One Day / And Glanced At Josie On His Way / Come With Me He Softly Said / And On His Bosom Laid Her Head.”  She died in an isolation hospital in 1938.  The grave of the Crocombe family shown above records the loss of 9 year old Walter: “Little Walter was our darling / Pride of all the hearts at home / But the breezes floating lightly / Came and whispered Walter come.”

A few graves have Latin inscriptions. Latin is often used on Roman Catholic graves, and the letters RIP often indicate a Catholic grave, standing for the words “requiescat in pace,” meaning “rest in peace”, part of a prayer for the dead.  A nice little gravestone commemorating Thomas Hutchins, near the entrance on Overleigh Road has the legend “stabat mater dolorosa” inscribed along the line of the arch, meaning “the sorrowful mother was standing,” a reference to the Virgin Mary’s vigil during the crucifixion.  It is one of a number that ask the reader to pray for the soul of the deceased.

The small, relatively isolated gravestone of Thomas Hutchins, died 1879, aged 39–40

Perhaps the most minimalist of all the inscriptions, in terms of information imparted, is this curious woodland-style headstone topped with a downward-facing dove, shown below: “With Sweet Thoughts of Phyllis from Mother and Father and Aubrey.”  Given the lack of any useful information it is not surprising that there is no information on the entry for it on the Find A Grave website, but the headstone has charm, and the lack of data is really intriguing, because this was not an inexpensive monument.  Chris tells me that her last name was Elias.  There must have been a story here, but how to find it would need some extensive research that would require access to the original stonemason’s records.

“With Sweet Thoughts of Phyllis from Mother and Father and Aubrey,” Overleigh New Cemetery

Although it might be expected that headstones would give a wealth of information, this is rarely the case at Overleigh, although names, dates of birth and death and place names are a good place to begin with additional research.

There are several books and websites that list some of the most common cemetery themes and symbols, which are very helpful for decoding some gravestones and memorials.
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Visually personalized headstones

Memorial to Richard Price, Dee salmon fisher, who died in 1960 aged 59. Overleigh Old Cemetery

Personally commissioned scenes, where they are shown, are very specific.  One of the most evocative is the gravestone that has a white marble section showing the Grosvenor Bridge, flanking trees on the river banks and a solitary, empty rowing boat moored in the middle of the river. It is dedicated to Richard Price, salmon fisherman, who died in 1960 aged 59.  Salmon fishing on the Dee has its own history, well worth exploring, and Richard Price was one of the last to make a living from it.  With Art Deco style wings either side, and an urn within the kerb, which could have been added at any time but appears to be in the same stone as the rest of the monument, it is an attractive and very personal dedication, becoming a little overgrown.  Richard’s wife Rose, who died in 1987 aged 81, is also commemorated on the stone.

One of the more startling graves when seen from a distance, but completely charming and evocative when seen up close, is the full-colour section of a headstone to Vincent John Hedley, with a scene showing a fly-fisherman in a river or estuary with a rural scene, a rustic bridge, flying geese, an evergreen woodland, a bare hillside and a sunset or sunrise. It seems probable that Vincent John Hedley was a keen fly fisherman.

Vincent John Hedley, died 1997, aged 70. Overleigh Old Cemetery

Small section of an elaborate grave to Annie Myfanwy Roberts, died 1986, aged 73-74, showing photographs of family members.

A very well-tended grave in Overleigh New Cemetery is extremely monumental in its scope and intention, and includes photographs of the deceased, far more elaborate than the Anglican tradition but in keeping with the idea of the personalized scenes above that include visual as well as textual references to the personal.  Whereas the two headstones above show evocative and nuanced scenes that suggest how lives were lived, the photographs of lost people show nothing of the lives that the people lived but are instant reminders of the faces of the departed, instantly emotive for the living, indicating a different way of thinking about and representing those who have been lost and are grieved for.

Materials

Although the most obvious thing about a grave is its shape, together with its ornamental elements, the choice of materials is also an essential part of the design of a monument, and helps to determine its appearance.  As Historic England pointed out in their report Paradise Preserved, “the rich variety of stone within cemeteries represents a valued resource for the understanding and appreciation of geology.”  The good news is that in 2012 Cheshire RIGS and the Northwest Geodiversity Partnership produced a five-page leaflet, Walking Through the Past: Overleigh Cemetery Geodiversity that describes some of the geological background to stone types used on gravestones at Overleigh Old Cemetery, which you can download as a PDF by clicking here.

Some of the many different stone types at Overleigh

Local red sandstone was a popular choice, the same material used to build Chester Cathedral.  Yellow sandstone, presumably much of which came from the Cefn quarries in northeast Wales, is finer-grained and often easier to sculpt, but is very vulnerable to pollution and, as a result, de-lamination.  Pale limestone and granite are available from British sources, and are scattered throughout the cemetery.  Limestone is a sedimentary stone like the sandstones, and relatively soft and easy to sculpt, whereas granite is an igneous rock, very hard and enduring, often with a very attractive flecked texture, but far more difficult to shape.  Imports from overseas include marble and various exotic granites, which are higher-status materials with smooth surfaces that lend themselves well to sculptural memorials.  Rose granite, so beloved of the ancient Egyptians, is well represented, usually polished to a high gloss.  The majority of modern headstones are in highly polished black granite.  Local schools would probably welcome a geology trail through the cemetery.

Cross made of a composite of two different materials, with pieces of stone inserted rather coarsely into what looks like concrete and was probably a low-cost solution to a burial memorial.

As the 19th century rolled into the 20th century and transportation costs declined, imported stones became more common, particularly marbles and coloured granites.  Closer to home,  reconstituted (powdered and reformed) stone became a lower cost alternative to real stone, a common type of which was called coade stone.  At first this resulted in an increased diversity of materials, forms and styles, but as the 20th century advanced, the whole business of burials became far more standardized.  This is not a reflection of falling standards, but it is an indication of cultural change in general, where Anglican Christianity in particular is of less importance in Britain and where society tends to internalize loss rather than expressing it.

The only grave marker that I have spotted so far that is neither stone nor pseudo-stone is a single metal cross in Overleigh New Cemetery, shown just below, although I am sure that there must be others.

Lead lettering on the fallen headstone of Harriet Benson, died 1909 aged 63

Some graves have inscriptions formed of lead letters, which makes them stand out to ensure that they are easy to read, but they have a very poor survival rate, with letters falling out, and only the pin-holes where they were affixed surviving.  This can be sufficient to work out the original inscription, but makes some of the the headstones look rather derelict.  In the example shown left, the lettering under the missing lead can still be made out, but this is rarely the case.

Combined, these different materials, with their very contrasting textures and colours, offer a far more diverse visual fare than the modern cemetery areas in both Overleigh and elsewhere, which are usually glossy black granite.  They help to contribute to the sense of individuality and personal expression in the cemetery.

Black-painted metal memorial to Frederick, aged 66-77, and Alice Wynne, John Meacock and Robert and Alice Taylor.

Memorabilia and gifts

Bird on a plinth at the foot of Harriett Garner‘s grave

A gravestone was a fixed point, although not invulnerable, whilst gift of flowers, immortelles and other objects are the ore transient but personal markers of ongoing memories or the establishment of new connections between people and graves.  As well as demonstrating a personal connection between the living and the dead, the offerings of all types help to keep the sense that the cemetery is still a place of relevance, where narratives continue to be written and rewritten, sometimes only in people’s individual minds, and sometimes shared amongst families and even amongst sections of specific communities.

In the next section, below, is a photograph of Mabel Francis Ireland-Blackburn, showing a three year old child lying in a bed.  It is surrounded by modern memorabilia, including flowers (fresh and everlasting) and a variety of toys and other items.

Although it does not attract the same devotion as Mabel, the grave of the suicide Harriett Garner features a charming little bird, probably a robin, on a thoughtful makeshift stand accompanying the grave.  It gives the grave a personal touch, something more intimate than the headstone itself, suggesting a sense of ongoing empathy and regret.

War grave of Marjorie Anne Tucker, Women’s Royal Air Force, died 1918 aged 32, with a textile  wreath placed by the members of Handbridge Women’s Institute

In the baby cemetery area and the cremation Garden of Reflection in Overleigh Old Cemetery and in the area of recent graves in Overleigh New Cemetery there are many graves with personal memorabilia and gifts from the living to the departed, and these speak to the realities of grief and the importance of reinforcing memory through small gifts and commemorations.

 

Examples that are cared for by today’s cemetery regulars

Not all graves are appreciated exclusively by their families and descendants.  Others have become interesting or even important to people who otherwise have no connections to the deceased. Some graves have attained something of a celebrity status, either because of their visual appeal or because of the reputation or story of their owners, and are particularly cared for by local people as well as by the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery.  These graves form a sense of how modern minds can connect on a personal and private level with graves with which they have no familial connection.

Grimsby News, September 11th 1908, reporting the coffin of William Biddulph Cross (The British Newspaper Archive)

The nicely shaped but otherwise unremarkable headstone of electrical engineer William Biddulph Cross, who died in 1908, conceals an amusing story of a coffin made entirely of matchboxes, thousands of them, by William himself over a ten year period, a fact mentioned on the gravestone: “WILLIAM BIDDULPH CROSS / Who Passed Away September 5th 1908 / Aged 85 Years / Known By His Galvanic Cures / And The Maker Of His Own Coffin.”  The “galvanic cures” refer to a somewhat scary electrical therapy device thought to be a cure-all for numerous ailments.  You can read more about the device and the theory behind it on the National Archives website. The coffin became something of a local tourist attraction in its own right before William was laid to rest, and was widely reported in newspapers all over Britain.  The newspaper paragraph to the right, for example, was reported in the Grimsby News.  It has been suggested that the electrical fittings were for lighting, but interment before death was a fear throughout the entire Victorian period, and there are some examples of coffins being fitted with devices to allow those who had been mistakenly certified dead to be given a means of raising the alarm, and perhaps this is an alternative explanation. The grave also commemorates six other members of the family who died between 1870 and 1904.  It is something of a puzzle to me as to why William BIddulph Cross was the first of these to be named but the last to die. 

Mabel Francis Ireland-Blackburn, died 1869. Overleigh Old Cemetery

A particularly notable example is “chewing-gum girl,” which is a rather frightful name for a clearly much-loved grave, explained in Part 4. The grave is a very good example of a modern phenomenon where people feel a strong connection to a grave in the past and demonstrate their sense of affinity and empathy by visiting the grave and leaving items to keep the deceased company.  The three year old girl, Mabel Francis Ireland-Blackburn, is represented in stone as a child lying in a bed, and is today surrounded by flowers (cut and artificial), small stone statuettes, toys, a teddy bear by her head, and other small gifts.  She died of whooping cough, but was reputed to have suffocated on chewing-gum, becoming a warning anecdote told by parents to their children, in the form of a poem, of the dangers of following in her footsteps.  Child grave memorials are discussed more in Part 4.  The visual impact of this grave, with the sleeping or dead girl lying in her small bed, propped up on a pillow, is clearly the impetus for the gifts, demonstrating the power of the sculptural funerary image, but also the connection that adults feel for deceased children.

Whilst some graves attract particular attention and are well cared for, The Friends of Overleigh Cemetery are trying to look after the cemetery as a whole, tackling individual problems as they identify them and attempting to rescue stones that can be freed from vegetation without doing them damage.


Cemeteries and the bereaved today

The only new interments in the Old Cemetery are baby burials, segregated with respect and sorrow in a separate garden of their own, or where rights are retained to be interred in a family plot.  The attractive cremation Garden of Reflection, with its hedges emulating ripples on the former lake, is also still in use, and it is possible that it will be extended.  Both are clearly distinguished from the majority of graves of the previous two centuries by virtue of the fresh flowers and other gifts that are regularly provided.  In the New Cemetery, the buildings are no longer in use for funerary activities, and the older part of the cemetery to a great extent resembles many parts of the Old Cemetery, but walk beyond these features and you will find yourself in a far more modern cemetery area, which is clearly frequently visited by family and friends.  This is the newer style lawn cemetery where a compromise has been sought between the needs of relatives and the problems of maintenance.  This will be discussed in Part 3.

Modern cemeteries issue rules and guidelines about the size and type of grave and grave marking permitted, in order to ensure that cemeteries are as easy to maintain as possible, whilst at the same time providing the bereaved with a place to visit and connect with their lost loved ones.  This is a very difficult balance to strike, and local authorities who find themselves with the costly task of maintaining old cemeteries as well as modern ones, have the unenviable task of finding cost-effective ways of caring for these important sites of both past and present commemoration and memorialization.  This is discussed further in Part 5.

 

Part 2 Final Thoughts

Yellow sandstone headstone of George Hamilton, son of Alexander and Mary, suffering from rather surrealistic de-lamination that looks like melting ice-cream, as well as a colonization of lichen. (Overleigh New Cemetery)

A graveyard is less about a place of the dead than a place of commemoration, the formation of individual, family and collective memories and the ongoing reinvention of ideas about how to deal with death. Those who have gone before us are still part of our lives, still form part of our physical landscape and can contribute to our inner ideas about mortality and the future. It is possible to get to know the dead than it is the living via their gravestones, their epitaphs and their stories.  Individually these are interesting but collectively they combine with other buildings and institutions to contribute to our understanding of the Victorian period and changing funerary traditions thereafter.  These changing fashions in funerary practice from the mid-19th century to the present day will be discussed in part 3.

Cemeteries have visitors who come to see particular graves, either due to regular tending of the grave and communion with the deceased, or to find a grave as part of genealogical research, or as for general or more formal interest into social history, art history and archaeological interest in death and memory.

Many of these graves, suffering from de-laminating or eroded inscriptions, and the invasion of ivy, as well as fallen headstones, highlight the importance not only of maintenance activities but of recording as many of the details on gravestones as possible in online, freely available databases.

Gothic style memorial to Thomas Ernest Hales, died 1906 aged 69. In the background are obelisks in rose granite, made popular when the antiquities of Egypt were first published

Cemeteries are fascinating places, and although modern sections are certainly rather understated and somber because of the signs of recent loss and sadness, older sections are very positive keepers of social history and human endeavor, reflecting choices and decisions by both the living and the deceased, in a wonderful arboretum of multiple tree species.  These grave monuments lend themselves to close inspection and appreciation not just of the materials, shapes and symbols, but of the stories that they capture about past lives and how we learn about a city’s past through both the material and conceptual cues that cemeteries retain.  The information on headstones can be a good place to start with an investigation in archives.  This type of information gives a sense both of the communal identity of a provincial town, and the individual identities that make up that community.  Of course, those who could not afford graves or were buried in communal graves that were the result of epidemics, are lost from this commemoration of the individual.

As before, my many thanks to Christine Kemp (Friends of Overleigh Cemetery) for all her practical help, her encyclopedic knowledge, and for checking over my facts.  Any/all mistakes are my own.  Do give me a yell if you find any.

I have quadruple-checked for typos etc, but some always get past me, for which my apologies.

References for all five parts are on a separate page on the blog here.

Overleigh Cemetery, Chester #1 – Introduction to its background and establishment

The Celtic cross style headstone of Robert Walter Russell (d.1909) and his wife Louisa Alma (d.1936) is on the left; the grave of Jane Whitley (d.1912), with its elaborate angel, topped with a cross and provided with a kerb and footstone (which is where the dedication is to be found), is on the right, erected by her husband Captain W.T Whitley, late Royal Artillery, who joined her there in 1936.

I have been to dozens of archaeological and historical burial sites, from prehistory onward, including famous monumental 19th century cemeteries in London, Paris and Havana, but the easiest by far to visit for someone based near Chester are local parish churchyards and the later dedicated Overleigh Old and New Cemeteries built during the Victorian period.  Ironically, I know much more about the burial traditions of ancient Egypt than I do about those on my own doorstep.  Up until now I have been repairing the gaps in my knowledge by visiting parish churchyards, but Overleigh Cemetery represents a different type of experience altogether, part graveyard and part public green space.  Overleigh reflects the growth of urban populations in towns and cities “which massed people on a hitherto unimaginable scale” (Julie Rugg, 2008) and put unmanageable pressure on urban parish churchyards.  It also demonstrates both a new idealism in the 19th century, the belief in the development of civic resources for the benefit of the general public, as well as the growing awareness of how disease was spread, the dangers of insanitary conditions, and the need for new approaches to public health.  The Victorian cemetery introduced into suburban environments the down-scaled aesthetics of 18th century estate parkland, often with their associated Classical architectural features, made popular by landscape designers like Capability Brown.  This touches on the complexities of the Victorian cemetery of which Overleigh was a smaller provincial form albeit clearly influenced by more elaborate examples.

Before I go any further, many thanks are due to Christine Kemp for her marvellous help when I started this mini-project.  It would have taken me at least twice as long without her, probably a lot longer, and I would have made errors that she has put right, so I am in her debt.  Chris has contributed 1000s of grave descriptions from this and other local cemeteries to findagrave.com, and is a founder member of the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery.

Where the findagrave.com website has an entry for a grave owner, I have added the hyperlink to the photographs used on this page for anyone who wants to read the inscriptions or find out more.

Overleigh Old Cemetery with its wonderful tree life, part cemetery and part arboretum

There will be five parts to this piece about Overleigh. Part 1 starts with a very brisk and short overview of Chester in the 19th Century and goes on to look at the establishment, in that context, of Overleigh Old Cemetery and Overleigh New Cemetery, followed by a short introduction to the objectives of research activities that can be carried out using cemetery material (discussed more in other parts) and some final comments.  At the end it also lists the sources for the entire five-part series, which will be added to as the series is posted.

  • Part 1:  Introduction to the background and the establishment of Overleigh Cemetery
  • Part 2:  The living, the dead and the visitor at Overleigh,
  • Part 3:  Shifting ideas – the move away from monumental cemeteries towards cremations and lawn cemeteries
  • Part 4:  The research potential of cemeteries; and Overleigh case studies
  • Part 5:  The Overleigh Old and New Cemetery today and in the future
    —-

Chester in the 19th century

Overleigh Old Cemetery opened in 1850, and the New Cemetery opened in 1879. To put this into some sort of context, here’s a very short gallop through Chester in the mid-19th century.

Chester Tramways Company Horsecar no.4 at Saltney. Source: Tramway Systems of the British Isles

Chester had been connected to the greater canal network in 1736, linking Chester with the Mersey, and was connected to the rail network by 1840, with today’s station opening in 1848.  The Grosvenor Bridge opened in 1832, taking the pressure off the Old Dee Bridge.  A horse-drawn tram was introduced in 1879 to link the railway station to Chester Castle and the racecourse.  This was replaced by an electric service in 1903 after Chester built an electricity plant in 1896, which also allowed the 1817 gas lighting to be replaced.  Improved communications brought more prosperity, and from the 1830s to the beginning of the 20th century, Chester had become an affluent town with a growing population.  To accommodate this rapidly growing population the city suburbs expanded to the south of the river, with Middle Class suburbs developing at Curzon Park and Queen’s Park, with  a new suspension bridge built  in 1852 (the current one replaced it in 1923) to connect the latter to the town.

Chester Town Hall of 1869. Photograph by Jeff Buck, CC BY-SA 2.0

Signs of prosperity were everywhere.  Commerce in the markets, shops and local trades thrived in the mid 19th century, and the sense of confidence and ambition was reflected in the expansion of the 18th century Bluecoat Hospital School, the building of the new Town Hall of 1869, the restoration of old buildings, and the establishment of new buildings, many in the style of earlier medieval half-timbering, as well as churches, including those for Dissenters.  With its extensive retail, its race course, its regatta and its medley of fascinating architecture, Chester was becoming a popular destination for visitors, and a series of hotels were built to support the growing tourist industry.

Although the Industrial Revolution did not revolutionize Chester in the same way that it did in other towns and cities, it left its mark, although in a rather piecemeal fashion.  As with most towns of the period it had light industry concentrated around the canal basin, as well as over the river in Saltney, and a declining shipbuilding industry.  Industries included new steam mills, a lead works, an anchor and chain works, three oil refineries and a chemical works amongst other enterprises.  Craft trades included tailoring, shoe-making, milliners, dressmaking, bookbinders, cabinet makers, jewelers and goldsmiths, amongst others.  In both town and suburban houses domestic service was an important source of employment for the less well off, as was gardening.  In line with the Victorian interest in civic works and promoting education and health, the Grosvenor Park opened in 1867 and the Grosvenor Museum in 1885.

Louise Rayner’s (1832–1924) painting of Eastgate Street and The Cross looking towards Watergate Street. Source: Wikipedia

Although the face of Chester seen by most people was a gracious attractive and prosperous one, there was also a lot of poverty. For those who were not quite on the breadline, but could not afford expensive accommodation a solution was provided by lodging houses of variable quality and pricing, which were growing in number to cater for both temporary visitors and more long-term residents.  Far more troubling, there were also slum areas known as “the courts,” which housed the city’s poor.  The St John’s parish became particularly notorious but these too were expanding, extending into the Boughton, Newtown and Hoole areas.  As agriculture made increasing use of labour-saving techniques, former agricultural labourers and their families moved to urban centres to find work.  At the same time, the appalling Irish Famine of 1845-52 drove starving people out of Ireland, and a large influx of impoverished Irish refugees, including entire families, expanded the poorest quarters of Chester and were a source of considerable concern to the authorities.  Although charity and church schools took in some of the poorer children, the most impoverished and vulnerable, sometimes the children of criminals and certainly in danger of becoming criminals themselves, were not at first provided for but the problem was acknowledged and three free schools for impoverished children known as “ragged schools” were built, of which more in Part 4.

According to John Herson there was an economic decline after 1870, during which population numbers fell, and Chester became more focused on its retail and service industries and the development of its tourism.  I recommend his chapter in Roger Swift’s Victorian Chester for more information about his discussion of the three phases of Chester’s Victorian past (see Sources at the end).


A solution to overflowing churchyards

Population in Chester and suburbs by year in 19th Century Chester. Source of data: John Herson 1996, Table 1.1, p.14

Polymath and diarist John Evelyn and architect Christopher Wren had both proposed out-of-town cemeteries in the 17th century, but their suggestions had fallen on deaf ears.  An exception was the famous Dissenter cemetery at Bunhill Fields, established from a sense of spiritual necessity.

The rising population that lead the living to move to new areas around Chester, was also a problem for churchyards.   The condition of Chester’s city churchyards was very poor, in common with other cities and towns throughout the country, and as the population expanded the situation in churchyards became somewhat desperate, and the new cemeteries were a necessity.  John Herson’s chapter in Roger Swift’s Victorian England provides a table of population figures for Chester and its suburbs from 1821 to 1911, and this shows that the population was rising rapidly.  Rising populations and the concentration of people in towns had lead to parish church cemeteries becoming problematic all over Britain.  This was infinitely worse in big-city urban environments where manufacturing industries had become major employers, where the lack of churchyard capacity led to some truly dreadful, squalid scenes representing appalling health risks, but even in a county town like Chester the problem was very real and churchyards there too were struggling to meet demand.

George Alfred Walker’s “Gatherings from Graveyards

Complaints were growing about the unsanitary condition of full intramural graveyards, and the risks that this represented.  Typhoid, typhus, scarlet fever, tuberculosis, measles, influenza and cholera, were all infectious diseases that were common in Victorian England, and the establishment of new graveyards for minimizing risk was becoming increasingly important as the links between health and sanitation were established.  Jacqueline Perry says that between 1841 and 1847 the annual average was 700 burials in Chester alone.

Those arguing for a new cemetery in Chester as a response to this problem were able to point to other specialized graveyards in Britain and overseas.  Bigger city cemeteries had been established earlier in the 19th century in Paris (in 1804 Père La Chaise was the first municipal cemetery in western Europe), Liverpool (Liverpool Low Hill opened in 1825 and St James’s Cemetery opened in 1829). In 1830 George Carden, after years of campaigning, organized a meeting to discuss how to improve the burial situation in London and Kensal Green opened in 1833, which initiated “The Magnificent Seven” ring of London cemeteries. Glasgow’s remarkable Necropolis followed in 1833.

In 1839 surgeon George Alfred Walker published his Gatherings from Graveyards (including the subtitle And a detail of dangerous and fatal results produced by the unwise and revolting custom of inhuming the dead in midst of the living), which drew uncompromising attention to some of the horrors of churchyards, encouraging burial reform and the wider adoption of the out-of-town cemetery.  I have provided a link to an online copy of this book in the Sources, but it is absolutely not for the faint-hearted. Although this trend was challenged by the Church of England, which derived an income from burial fees, the need was acute, and parish churches were compensated for their loss of income.  Most of these new cemeteries were commercial, charging for burials and paying dividends to investors from their profits.

Mourning clothes were a major investment in the Victorian funeral ceremonies. Source: Wikipedia

There was also clearly a psychological need for new cemeteries with neatly defined and delineated plots for individuals and families, and the space to commemorate and mourn loved ones.  As James Stevens Curl explains:  “It could never be said that the Victorians buried their dead without ceremony.  Apart from the immediate family, all the distant relatives would be present . . . Friends, business associated, acquaintances would all appear . . . A dozen or sometimes more coaches therefore followed the hearse.”  The acts of observance and the rituals associated with death in the Victorian period, and the traditions associated with the bereavement that followed interment were elaborate, encoded and important to Victorian religious beliefs and social conventions.  These beliefs and conventions were part of a deeply felt attitude to death and how it should be handled.  They were also opportunities to display wealth and status for those who had it.  The new landscape-style cemeteries offered the opportunity to carry out these various rituals at each stage of bereavement after loss with dignity and ceremony.

Following the new cemeteries and the success of the concept, cemetery design became a recognized field of endeavor for landscape designers and architects, and the best known cemetery designer, although by no means the first or even the best, was probably John Claudius Loudon, who consulted on a number of projects before publishing his 1843 On the Laying Out, Planting and Managing of Cemeteries, which became an important source of practical advice and creative ideas for many private enterprises. Loudon’s intentions are captured in these two statements from the beginning of his book:

Cemetery design for a hilly location by Thomas Loudon, 1834, showing a similarly sinuous arrangement as Overleigh, but with the building centred at the heart of the cemetery. Source: Loudon 1843

The main object of a burial-ground is, the disposal of the remains of the dead in such a manner as that their decomposition, and return to the earth from which they sprung, shall not prove injurious to the living; either by affecting their health, or shocking their feelings, opinions, or prejudices.

A secondary object is, or ought to be, the improvement of the moral sentiments and general taste of all classes, and more especially of the great masses of society.

The means by which Loudon proposed to address his “secondary object” was by introducing a sense of serenity, providing fresh air and a sense of nature, and encouraging contemplation.  At the time disease was thought to be conveyed by “miasmas” or vapours, not entirely unsurprising given how bad cesspits, uncovered drains and overfilled graveyards smelled, and trees were thought to assist with the absorption of miasmas, helping to promote good health and prevent the spread of disease.  Often his designs were based on a grid, like the 1879 Overleigh New Cemetery, but his above design for cemeteries on hills and slopes, like the Overleigh Old Cemetery was more forgiving.

Sculptural monument on a plinth dedicated to land agent and surveyor Henry Shaw Whalley, d.1904

After the 1850s commercial cemeteries were not the standard way of establishing new cemeteries.  The Metropolitan Interments Act allowed for burial grounds to be purchased by a civic authorities, which was itself replaced by a new Act of Parliament in 1852 when Burial Boards were established, after which publicly funded cemeteries became the norm.

One of the results of the new cemeteries, with individual plots dedicated to single individuals or to families, was that graves became part of the domestic sphere of families, part of their personal real estate.  In an elaborate cemetery this might include personal family mausolea and vaults, but at a more modest provincial cemetery like Overleigh, it usually consisted of a sculptural element or a headstone with a kerb and sometimes a footstone, although at Overleigh footstones are unusual (all the elements are in the grave shown at the top of the page, on the right).  This created a clearly defined space in which family and friends could commemorate their dead with gifts of flowers and sometimes additional memorabilia.  The main sculpture or headstone, usually of stone but occasionally of metal, was itself a medium for expression, combining shapes, symbolic and sentimental imagery, and text to express ideas about both the dead and their relationship to the living.  The kerbs were usually visited and the dead were gifted fresh flowers or immortelles (more permanent artificial flowers presented in suitable vessels or frames, sometimes under a glass dome).

Overleigh Old Cemetery

Grosvenor Bridge entrance to Overleigh Old Cemetery

Overleigh Old Cemetery, very convenient for Chester residents without intruding on the town itself, lies just across the Grosvenor Bridge, its northern border running along the south bank of the river Dee.  It has gateways from the Grosvenor Bridge, Overleigh Road and River Lane which converge on the monument of, cenotaph to William Makepeace Thackeray, a Chester doctor and benefactor.  Although this is the oldest of the two halves of the cemetery, it is still in use today for new cremation memorials in its maze-like hedged memorial area (actually designed to look like ripples on the lake that once occupied the space), as well as an enclosed area for interments and cremated ashes of babies, which is inevitably particularly sorrowful.  Overleigh Old Cemetery is often used as a short-cut from the Grosvenor Bridge to the walkway along the Dee, and presumably as its designer Thomas Penson originally intended, always has the feeling of a public park as much as a cemetery, although up until late August 2024, there has been nowhere to sit.  A bench supplied by the Friends of Overleigh Cemetery has helped to bring the cemetery further into the public domain.

First page of the The Chester Cemetery Act in 1848

The cemetery was established by The Chester Cemetery Act in 1848.  Chester’s City Surveyor, Mr Whally had held a public inquiry at the Town Hall to discuss the urgent need of a new extramural cemetery.  Overleigh was established by a private company named the Chester General Cemetery Company, which was formed by an Act of Parliament on 22nd July 1848. According to Historic England, the cemetery site was owned by the Marquis of Westminster who exchanged it for a shareholding in the company.  The cost of the cemetery was estimated at £5000 but the company blew its budget and in 1849 work was forced to stop for seven months until new shareholders could be found.  The thinking behind it was, much like the Grosvenor Park and the museum, as much a matter of civic pride as it was a practicality.  However, unlike the park or the museum, the cemetery was intended to turn a profit, and was essentially a retail operation, selling or renting burial plots, paying for its own maintenance and offering a return on shareholder investment, and providing a valuable service to residents at the same time.

Crypt Chambers, Eastgate Street. Source: Wikipedia

Overleigh Old Cemetery was designed by Thomas Mainwaring Penson (1818–1864), the surveyor and architect responsible for, amongst other Chester buildings, the 1858 Crypt Chambers and the 1868 Grosvenor Hotel, both on Eastgate Street.  The original layout of Overleigh Old Cemetery is preserved in an engraving from sometime after it opened, shown below, probably in the later 1850s.

Following the model already established in Paris, Belfast, Glasgow, Liverpool and London, this was a garden- or landscape-type cemetery, planned to emulate a large garden or small park.  When compared with some of the vast architectural entrances to the great Victorian cemeteries of Liverpool, Glasgow, London and elsewhere (see, for example, Kensal Green or, in a different style, the Glasgow Necropolis) the gates at Overleigh are a mere nod to a transitional zone between the busy outside world and the quiet necropolis within, with modest pillars and iron gates, shown above.  The buildings that were once just inside each gate, the entrance lodges, will have given more of sense of entry and exit than the entrances retain today.  Something of that effect can be seen over the road at Overleigh New Cemetery where the lodge building survives.  The funeral cortege would stop here to be formally received and recorded before proceeding to the burial site.

Overleigh Cemetery. Source: Wikipedia

The cemetery was landscaped with sinuous wide driveways winding down the hill towards a lake, laid out over an area of some 12 acres.  In the engraving to the right there are six buildings, none of which survive today.  I have no information about why they were taken down, but assume that they had fallen out of use and were becoming a problem to maintain.  Two of them are lodges at the Grosvenor Bridge and River Lane gates of the cemetery, used by cemetery superintendents and officials, and housing cemetery records. One of the lodges was apparently removed in 1967.  Chris has a plan of the cemetery dating to 1875 that identifies the church-like buildings at the top and the one by the lake as mortuary chapels (the one by the lake was for Dissenters), whilst the building behind the temple-style monument to Robert Turner was the Chaplain’s house.  It may have had rather good views over the bridge and the river.  The tiny building at centre left was probably a grounds-man’s hut, used for storing tools.

The headstone of Harriett Garner (d.1905) and other family members.  Harriett was a suicide, but because the inquest found her to be temporarily insane, and therefore innocent of crime, she was allowed to be buried in a consecrated grave

The 1847 Cemeteries Clause Act (section 36) stated that a new cemetery contain both consecrated and unconsecrated land and there were usually two chapels, one Anglican and one for Dissenters.  The provision for non-Anglican graves had become particularly important because of the Nonconformist movement, which had grown from strength to strength.  Non-denominational chapels of rest, where the deceased could be laid before interment, were a characteristic feature of the new cemeteries.  The idea of including unconsecrated land was to ensure that a cemetery should exclude no-one, including suicides who were declared sane at the time of their deaths (those judged to be insane when they committed suicide were considered to be innocent), unbaptized children and those of non-Anglican religions.  Chris showed me where, indicated by marker stones, there is a section for Roman Catholics and another for Dissenters, whilst pauper graves, some of which surprisingly have headstones, are dotted throughout the cemetery.  For those short of funds, there were burial club schemes, a little like life assurance today, where people could pay in a regular amount to save up for a proper ceremony and gravestone.

Plantings to give the garden cemetery its Arcadian feel included both deciduous and evergreen trees.  The use of deciduous trees was counter to Loudon’s advice, as in his view they grew too fast, became too big, dropped leaves that had to be cleared up, and looked ugly with bare branches in the winter, but at Overleigh the combination provides a marvelous mixture of colours, textures and shapes for most of the year.  The trees are worth a study in their own right, including some very unusual specimen varieties.  The now truly massive and splendid redwoods and traditional yew trees, both of them evergreen and long-lasting, often represent the hope for eternal life, and the sheer variety of specimen deciduous trees is remarkable and if anyone out there happens to be a tree expert and would like to help me out with some identifications, I would be grateful!

The William Thackeray cenotaph that sits at the conjunction of the cemetery drives. A huge beech tree stands behind it, and in front of it is a big horse chestnut; the trees in Overleigh are one of its most appealing features

The lake was eventually filled in, a very nice feature but presumably something of a problem to maintain and probably a risk to children and of course was using up land that could be used for more graves.  Partially in its place is a cremation area made of concentric hedging to emulate the ripples on the former lake.  The cremation memorial will be discussed in part 3.  The rustic bridge to the right of the lake on the engraving remains in situ, although the land either side of it is being used as a dumping ground for clearance works, which will eventually biodegrade and build up the soil level around the arch bases, which is a real shame.

The William Thackeray monument, at the confluence of the Old Cemetery drives has already been mentioned, but in the engraving above, the tall, slender temple-style monument shown at top right of the image, which commemorated brewer and wine merchant Robert Turner, who was Sheriff of Chester in 1848. The plinth now sits directly over the base,  with the fallen pillars at its side.  The engravings are on the floor of the base, which would once have been visible by walking into the monument and looking down, one for Robert Turner and one for his wife, which are shown on the findagrave.com website (by Chris Kemp). There’s a certain amount of irony in its demise, as over the course of the Victorian period the brewery industry also went into a state of terminal decline.  Work was done by Blackwells Stonecraft to prevent it sliding down the slope in 2022.

Robert Turner’s grave (d.1852) as it now appears in the oldest part of Overleigh Old Cemetery. Christine Kemp has posted a fascinating photograph of it under repair in 2022 on the findagrave website at https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/195750339/robert_hugh-turner/photo#view-photo=247132692

The pillars at the base of the monument, which once formed the temple

Overleigh New Cemetery

Overleigh New Cemetery, with the Greek Orthodox church, formerly a cemetery chapel, in the background

Overleigh New Cemetery, established in 1879, lies to the south of the Old Cemetery, with the Duke’s Drive running along its southern boundary, accessible via its entrance on Overleigh Road, opposite the entrance to the Old Cemetery, which gives some sense of continuity, and this too is still in use.  Overleigh New Cemetery, established in 1879, is a more obviously lower budget incarnation, all on the flat, its driveways laid out on a grid that divides the cemetery into raised rectangles.  Loudon’s book had layouts very like this in his 1843 book, although they weren’t amongst his more imaginative designs.  They did, however, have the essential idea that Loudon proposed of trees and shrubs to create a healthy and contemplative experience, and these are largely missing from Overleigh New Cemetery, except around the very edges.  By virtue of the fact that it does not serve as a route to anywhere else, and is essentially a cul-de-sac, it is more peaceful than the Old Cemetery but has less of a feeling of community.

*****

The section of Overleigh New Cemetery dedicated to the Commonwealth War Grave commission memorials

There is a small and beautifully maintained section dedicated to Commonwealth War Grave Commission graves, and managed by the Commonwealth War Grave Commission itself, is an important reminder of the sacrifices that were made, although graves dedicated to those who lost their lives in combat are also dotted through both the Old and New cemeteries.  These are planted with evergreen and flowering shrubs, and carry just the right balance of dignity, solemnity and floral tribute.  It was decided, when they were originally designed that there should be no distinction between graves of different rank so the headstones are all made according to a standardized template, differentiated by the regimental crest and or badge, the ranks and of course the names of the deceased.

One of the chapels in Overleigh New Cemetery, a Designated Heritage Asset in the Cheshire West and Cheshire “Chester Characterisation Study”

There are four buildings in the New Overleigh Cemetery.  The largest is the West Chapel, now Saint Barbara’s Orthodox Church. Historic England states that it was built in the style of John Douglas in the early 20th Century.  Chester Council made it available to the Greek Orthodox church in the 1980s and it opened its doors to congregations in 1987.  It attracts a congregation from a very wide area and prevents the site feeling entirely field-like.  Also assisting in this sense of place rather than space is a lodge that sits near the Overleigh Road entrance but is now apparently used as a private residence.  The small chapel, now used as a base for cemetery workers, is a lovely little thing with a few nice decorative features inside and out and some understated stained glass consisting of small square panels in quiet colours.  It was nicely thought through when it was built, and is now a Designated Heritage Asset.

The other building, recently fenced off presumably due to the sorry state of repair, making it look like a complete eyesore, is the former grave-digger’s hut, a charming brick-built building, described as “an important historical feature” in the Handbridge Neighbourhood Plan. It is clearly in urgent need of help.

The grave-diggers’ hut, fenced off.

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Headstone of Frederick Coplestone, d.1932 and members of his family by sculptor Eric Gill, showing St Francis of Assisi (Grade 2* listed)

When you first enter the New Cemetery, the initial impression given by the repeated lines of headstones is that the cemetery is less obviously interesting than the variety of shapes and sizes over the road.  This is, however, partly an illusion caused by the grid-like horizontal layout.  Closer inspection of the older sections, nearest to Overleigh Road, demonstrates that these too offer an enormous amount of variety that provides insights into personal preferences and choices, and certain very specific affiliations.  The graves here, many of them more recent than those at the Old Cemetery, offer a rather different sense of style and character, of different experiments with more personalized design and symbol as new trends emerged.  There are, for example, some interesting Art Nouveau and Art Deco examples that I have not noticed in the Old Cemetery.—-

As you head to the extremities furthest from the road, you will see less of these mainly earlier 20th century monuments and find yourself confronted with the more modern emblems of British commemoration of the dead.  These are generally smaller and plainer, often with flowers or other memorabilia, and reflect a changing attitude to memorializing the dead.  The further on you go, the more you find yourself in the sort of “lawn cemetery” concept that is becoming increasingly popular for public cemeteries, with small memorials.  Although this is much less aesthetically engaging than the older cemeteries, it does reflect an interesting change in mortuary practices that will be discussed further in parts 4 and 5.

Looking towards the far end of Overleigh New Cemetery, where new graves are still added

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Family Research

Overleigh Old Cemetery

It does not take a great deal of imagination to see that a cemetery like Overleigh contains an enormous amount of information about people who have lived and died in and near Chester.  Most of this information comes from words on gravestones, although some general comments can be made about the imagery employed and the design of the grave monuments themselves.  There is as much fashion as there is tradition, all mingled together.  Classical elements, Gothic Revival, Art Deco, Art Nouveau are all here, and in Overleigh New Cemetery the differences between Anglican and Roman Catholic graves are often particularly striking.  One way of learning more about the cemetery as a whole is by taking the Stories in Stone walking tour with one of Chester’s excellent Green Badge Guides, which takes visitors on a tour of the main features and some particularly interesting graves.

Grave of William Pinches (d.1929), Overleigh New Cemetery

The most common motivation for conducting research at cemeteries is to find the grave of an ancestor or loved one, whilst others find real interest in the individual stories told by gravestones via design, symbol and inscription.  Although Overleigh is so large that it may all seem like a challenge to make sense of it all, if you know the name of the grave’s owner, the findagrave.com website is an excellent database containing details of the grave and its owner, where known, together with any interesting stories that might be connected with either the grave or the owner.  Chris Kemp alone has been responsible for researching and adding literally thousands of graves in Overleigh and elsewhere in the Chester area since she began to record them over 12 years ago.  There are other online databases that do something similar, but findagrave.com is probably the most accessible resource for Overleigh.  Note that findagrave.com divides the cemetery into the Old Cemetery and the New Cemetery for search purposes.  Chris points out that until 1879 when the Overleigh New Cemetery was built, the Overleigh Old Cemetery was at that time known and referred to in documents as the “new cemetery.”

The Cheshire Archives and Local Studies service has some excellent online resources, and as well as their Overleigh Cemetery 1850-1950 database (it’s not the most user-friendly interface, so do watch the video about how to use it here), there are many other sources of local information about individuals, institutions and business in their online Archive Collections, including parish records, the electoral register, business directories, court sessions and poor law and workhouse records.

Amongst many other activities, Chris Kemp receives emails from people looking for graves from outside the area, and sometimes overseas, and tracks down the graves for them, a valuable and time-consuming task, as she receives at least half a dozen every week, which she hunts down every Saturday, and which demonstrate how much the cemetery, on both sides of the road, continues to contribute to people’s investigations of their past and their sense of a link with their family history.
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Part 1 Final Comments

Many of the first out-of-town cemeteries were conceived of as memorial parklands that were designed to balance the natural and the man-made, to harmonize different needs and priorities.  Although at Overleigh each of the two halves of the cemetery has a different personality, both combine monument and commemoration within a designed space where the dead and the living can peacefully coexist.  The graves themselves, some of them impressive, others very modest, never reach the heady heights of London’s “Magnificent Seven” with their extravagant mausolea and world-famous names, but in the details, the variations and subtleties, and of course in the engravings, there is a very real sense for visitors of mingling with the lives of Chester residents and getting to know something about the population at large.

Detail from the headstone of Margaret Roberts (d.1900), Overleigh Old Cemetery

The gravestone is, just as much as items given pride of place in the home and passed between generations, both an object and a commodity.  It was manufactured, chosen, customized, purchased and curated.  Even within its own funerary landscape, the funerary monument had a role within the home, in that it formed part of a personal experience of the world, a form of mental mapping that includes places beyond the front door but are endowed with a personal value.  They become part of a much wider family and social landscape than their physical location in a cemetery.  This means that there is a social and cultural history component to be researched in large cemeteries that offers a different type of record from documentary resources.  I will talk more about the role of cemetery research in social and cultural history in Part 4.

Overleigh Old Cemetery

Overleigh is a place where relatives can visit their loved ones or carry out genealogical research into their ancestors and where social history can be investigated.  At the same time it needs to be respected and to be recognized as a vulnerable piece of local heritage.  One of the most important questions about any monument or object is what happens when it is no longer valuable to someone, when the useful life for which it was intended comes to an end.  At this point, so many bad decisions have been made in Britain about the value of buildings and objects to social and cultural history, and there is a need to ensure that cemeteries like Overleigh continue to both support and inform the living.  This will be discussed further in part 5.

Part 2, only part-written at the moment, will look at how the living and the deceased are both incorporated into a common language of the necropolis, and how gravestones are used to express complex ideas about the dead.
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With sincere thanks again to Christine Kemp for giving me a guided tour of both parts of Overleigh Cemetery at the beginning of August 2024, and then guiding me to find specific graves and helping me to understand different aspects of the cemeteries when I met her again at the end of August, and for offering ongoing help.  In this and the following parts, she has been a splendid source of information, fact-checking and guidance.  Any errors are, of course, all my own work!

Sources:

Charles Edward Armitage, d.1930, Overleigh New Cemetery

The books and papers and websites used in all the parts are listed in their own page.  Splitting them up over the various parts does not make much sense because so many of them are used time and time again and listing the sources in one place makes it easier for anyone wanting to print off the full list.

The list of references for this post has become ridiculously long, so instead of listing them here on the page I have copied them onto their own page on the blog at
https://basedinchurton.co.uk/walking/overleigh/

 

The rustic bridge that was part of the original Penson design

 

A short comment on the missing past of St Mary’s Nunnery, Chester

I have been trying to find a publication of the excavations that took place when the profoundly ugly Chester HQ office development was built on the site of St Mary’s Nunnery and its cemetery. This lead me to the article by Professor Howard Williams below.  Outside the Chester HQ buildings is a very odd permanent display area made of red sandstone displaying bits and pieces of random archaeology.  I’ve thought it was peculiar for a very long time, one of these token gestures, neither fish nor fowl, that are usually funded by developers when they build over the top of heritage sites.  It has no cohesive message, no coherent linkage between any of the objects, and is anyway missed by most passers-by.  This excerpt from a very nicely written article by Professor Williams (University of Chester), posted in 2017, really gets to the nub of the matter.

https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2017/03/22/unethical-medieval-nuns-on-display/:

I see the vision but I can’t really get my head around the reality in a sympathetic way. Rather than evoking a history of place, reporting on the contexts discovered and the rich and varied social, economic, political and religious history of the city and this site’s place within it, instead we get a transtemporal pastiche. This is little more than a banal and context-free open-air cabinet of curiosities that shamelessly aggrandises the corporate architecture of the 21st century and its construction facilitated by the rifling of past times.

He goes on to discuss the display of one particular object, a truly lovely medieval stone grave cover with a fabulous decorative theme that represented the Tree of Life.  It would have been laid horizontally over the grave, covering the deceased, but here is displayed vertically.  This is really well worth a read if you are interested in heritage management, respect towards funerary monuments and contexts, the activities of developers with respect to the heritage they impact and the role of object histories.  Loving the phrase ” transtemporal pastiche,” which gets it in one.  Professor Williams never disappoints.

Back on the subject of the archaeological excavations, it was also interesting to note that in a 2013 article Professor Williams notes the following:

Archaeologist Mike Morris of Cheshire West and Chester Council was forced to announce that the developer – Liberty Properties – was in breach of their agreement [Cheshire Live] by not funding post-excavation adequately following the excavations at the HQ building revealing graves from Chester’s Benedictine nunnery. The website of Earthworks Archaeology – the commercial archaeologists who excavated the remains associated with the Benedictine Nunnery – says that post-excavation is ‘under way’.

The Cheshire Live article says that not only were there remains of 100 individuals from the cemetery at the nunnery site, but “foundations for at least one large Roman town house were discovered including an undisturbed mosaic floor – the first to be found in Chester since 1909.”  The Earthworks Archaeology site announces:  “The practice is currently on sabbatical.”  There is no additional content and the website says nothing at all now.  If anyone has any information about the excavations I would be grateful?  But I suspect that it’s a horribly lost cause.

The last remaining structural feature of St Mary’s Nunnery – a 15th century archway that now stands in the Grosvenor Park.

Excavation without publication is an archaeological evil.  If the remains carefully troweled out of the ground are not professionally published, the information is lost forever, the data never contributing to knowledge about the city as a whole and about the nunnery’s history in particular.  It is the responsibility of an excavation not merely to extract data from the ground, but to share it. Anything else is an abdication of responsibility, and the loss of an important story.  If the excavation results are never published, how will we ever understand what there was to know about St Mary’s?  Where contracts are granted for this sort of work, surely the conditions of those contracts should be enforced.

The Chester HQ building where the nunnery once stood

The 1715 “Old Dock” – The earliest of Liverpool’s commercial docks, preserved beneath the Liverpool ONE shopping centre

Introduction

The Eyes map of Liverpool showing Old Dock on a previous tidal inlet and enclosed within the streets of an expanding Liverpool in 1765, 50 years after it first opened. Later docks were laid out along the foreshore. Source: National Museums Liverpool

Earlier in summer 2024 I went on the Old Dock tour in Liverpool when it was offered one Sunday.   Old Dock, of which only one corner remains to be visited, was perhaps Liverpool’s most important commercial and civil engineering initiative at a time when Chester’s port was going into decline and Liverpool had the opportunity to become the trading centre for the northwest.

Old Dock, Liverpool

Old Dock in Liverpool, the first of Liverpool’s impressive network of enclosed docks, opened in 1715, to the design of civil engineer Thomas Steers.  It is Europe’s oldest enclosed cargo-handling dock.  What remains of Old Dock is underground, beneath the “Liverpool ONE” shopping centre.  Its lock gates can no longer be visited, but remain under The Strand (the modern dual carriageway that runs along the line of the old foreshore).  Only the northeastern corner of the dock is accessible to visitors, and has been provided with a gantry and information panels, and its history is presented to pre-booked groups by an excellent guide.  I’ve added details about booking and the tour itself at the end of the post under “Visiting.” The following looks at some of the history of Old Dock.

The 1699 Howland Great Wet Dock in London. British Library HMNTS 10349.ff.9.. Source: Wikipedia

Old Dock was modelled on the Howland Great Wet Dock, shown right, built in 1699, which was built to shelter ships, mainly of the East India Company, in the days when ships over-wintering on the Thames were regularly subjected to both storm damage and piracy.  It was surrounded by a double planting of trees to help protect the ships within and had shipbuilding dry docks at its entrance. It was a convenient place to carry out repairs and to ready ships for the upcoming season, but was not used for handling cargo so was not a commercial trading dock.  The Howland Great Wet Dock was built in a rural space on the south of the Thames in what is now the residential Surrey Quays area of southeast London, and was replaced in the 18th century by Greenland Dock, which itself became part of the Surrey Commercial Docks.

The commercial argument for Old Dock

Liverpool was established by a charter of King John in 1207 and was provided with a castle in 1235.  At this time, however, Chester was the main northwestern port, and Liverpool did not become a commercial giant until the 18th and 19th centuries, and this required some pioneering Victorian thinking and civil engineering before it really took off as one of Britain’s leading ports.  Old Dock is at the heart of this story.

Painting of Liverpool in 1680, from the Old Dock display area. Unknown artist. The original is held by the National Maritime Museum. See more (and a better image) on ArtUK

Before the docks, the Mersey was not the easiest of rivers to use in an age of sail partly due to strong winds but also because of the twice-daily tidal events that swept down the estuary. An additional problem was that due to the dumping of rubbish and ships’ ballast along the river edges, deep-sea shipping was unable to approach the river banks to offload and reload.  It could also become very busy with river traffic of all shapes and sizes. The handling of cargo on the Mersey was achieved by mooring ships in the main channel and loading and offloading them with lighters – unpowered boats into which the cargo was loaded by hand, then rowed to shore, and offloaded by hand.  This could only be carried out between tidal events, confining the activity to around 5 hours a day. To empty a single ship averaging 150 tons could take between two and three weeks.

The engineering success of the Howland dock enterprise inspired MP Thomas Johnson, who was both a successful merchant a slave trader, to approach one of the engineers probably responsible for the Howland dock, George Sorocold, to discuss the viability of a similar dock for Liverpool.  Johnson, however, saw the greater potential of an enclosed inland dock, not for over-wintering ships but for creating a cargo-handling facility to radically improve speed and efficiency. Under The Dock Act of 1708 a Common Council of leading city figures was established to became trustees of the proposed dock, which they operated through council committees.  The risk of doing it this way rather than as a private enterprise was that failure could have put the entire city finances in jeopardy.  Thomas Steers from London was the civil engineer appointed in 1709 to make this a reality, only a decade after the opening of the Howland Great Wet Quay on which he had probably also worked.  Initially costs had been estimated at £6000, but this was a serious underestimation and eventually the dock cost more than double this amount.

Building and opening the dock

The dock was lined with bricks in the upper sections with local red sandstone in the lower courses.  I am accustomed to the later Surrey Commercial Docks in southeast London, where I used to live, which are lined with stone much like Liverpool’s Albert Dock, so the sight of a brick-lined dock seemed extraordinary to me.  The bricks were made on site from local clays, with a dedicated kiln built for the task, and a special mortar was used to resist the incursion of water.

At the base of Old Dock, Liverpool

The result of all the investment, civil engineering and labour was Old Dock, which opened in 1715 at the mouth of a former tidal inlet or creek.  Up to a hundred ships could be taken into the 3.5 acre dock via a 30ft wide entrance lock and could draw up against the quayside to offload without the use of lighters. Because of the tides, ships could only enter the dock at the top half of the tide, but a 1.5 acre tidal entrance basin was provided as a waiting area.  By drawing ships up against the quayside, three weeks could be reduced to just one to two days.  The proof of concept was soon confirmed.

The area around the dock was soon surrounded by residential, commercial, retail and service industry premises. Excerpt from a poster from the Old Dock exhibition area.

An entire new residential, commercial, retail and service industry quarter grew up around the dock, which became known as the Merchants’ Quarter.  As well as homes, warehousing and other commercial facilities there were lodging houses for sailors, and less salubrious businesses that catered to their needs.  This is a good illustration of the sort of process of urban sprawl that follows on from a specific industrial development.

Old Dock was such a notable success that new docks were soon opened, and the Liverpool foreshore began its transformation.  During the 18th century South Dock, also built by Thomas Steers (later Salthouse Dock) opened 1753, George’s Dock opened 1771, King’s Dock opened and Queen’s Dock opened in 1796.  It is a measure of the success of the dock concept, Old Dock having been established 53 years before Bristol’s first dock, that between 1772 and 1805 the total tonnage of shipping increased from 170,000 to 670,000, with foreign shipping increasing from 20,000 to 280,000.  By the end of the 19th century 9% of all world trade passed through the Liverpool docks, and there were 120 acres of enclosed docks along 10km (7 miles) of Liverpool’s foreshore.

Closure of the dock

Old Dock, Liverpool

Old Dock itself closed in 1826 mainly because as ship sizes increased, in terms of width, length and depth, it became increasingly obsolete.  It did not help either that the dock had become surrounded with other buildings and could not easily expand without considerable destruction.  Instead, the development of docks beyond the existing foreshore seemed like a better option and this is what happened.

This new use of enclosed docks for cargo-handling was pioneered at Old Dock in Liverpool, creating the first revolution in cargo handling in the UK.  To provide additional real estate for the rapidly growing city, most of the dock was infilled and built over, so this one remaining corner is a significant survivor from Liverpool’s early development as a major trading port.

Final Comments

Old Dock brickwork

Much of what is known about Liverpool’s earliest docks comes from the archaeological investigations that took place between 1976 and 2009. Old Dock was examined prior to the building of Liverpool One by Oxford Archaeology between 2001 and 2006. The remains of Old Dock are designated a site of Outstanding Universal Value.

It is difficult to over-emphasize how important London’s Howland Great Wet Dock and Liverpool’s Old Dock were to the development of maritime trade in Britain.  With an enclosed dock designed by Thomas Steers, the Old Dock set Liverpool firmly on the path for trading success throughout the 18th century and the commercial and architectural triumphs of the Victorian period.

Visiting

Booking details, opening times, ticket prices and everything else you need to know are on the Old Dock Tour website.

At the time of writing the meeting point shown on one place on Google Maps is in a different location from the one that is shown on the Old Dock Tours website, and the latter is the correct one.  I don’t know Liverpool at all and I was confused by the directions on the website, partly because I had no idea what a “Q-Park” might be when it escaped from its burrow, so I arrived early to make sure that I was in the right place, which was on the Thomas Steers Way entrance to the “Q-Park” (the Liverpool ONE car-park), on the left as you head up from the Mersey, near the base of the Sugar House Steps.  Here’s the What3Words address for that location, which is traffic-free, but do check on the website or your ticket that this remains the same meeting place: https://what3words.com/found.farm.gent. Have your ticket handy to be checked, either printed out or on your device.

This is a guided tour.  You receive an excellent lecture as you walk to the dock via a wall-sized map of old Liverpool, and then stand on the  gantry looking down into the dock. Our guide was informative, humorous and engaging, parting with a staggering amount of information in an easily digestible way.  It is always a mark of how well a guide does when there are questions afterwards, people wanting to explore specific aspects of the story, and there were lots of questions.  I used to live overlooking Greenland Dock in London, and the remnants of the Surrey Commercial Docks were my home for twenty years.  Opposite was Canary Wharf, where the former East India and West India quays are preserved and the Museum of London Docklands is located. It was a real dock heritage experience, so it was particularly nice to go to Liverpool and have someone bring this particular old dock to such vivid life.

If you are dealing with unwilling legs, there is a flight of steps with a banister to hold onto.  I forgot to count, but I would guess perhaps ten steps, down from the car park entrance into the dock area.  There is then a gantry (metal walkway) across the remaining part of the dock, with high sides to hang on to.  There is nowhere to sit, so a portable perch of some sort might be useful whilst you are listening to the talks.

I had not realized that it was the schools’ half term break.  Half-term was a poor day to visit Liverpool, and on the tour there were two completely uncontrolled young children running around and yelling their heads off.  A less child-intensive day would be better if it can be arranged.  There’s not a lot for young children to see on this walk anyway, although an older child seemed to be enjoying it very much.
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Sources

Most of the above details came from the guided tour.  I did not want to detract from that so I have not gone into greater detail here, but I did use some additional sources to check facts that I had not noted down at the time, and have provided some suggestions for further reading.

Books and Papers

Farrer, William, and Brownbill, J. (eds.) 1911. Liverpool: The docks, in “A History of the County of Lancaster: Volume 4,” p. 41-43. British History Online. Originally published by Victoria County History, London, 1911.
https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/lancs/vol4/pp41-43

Gregory, Richard A., Caroline Raynor, Mark H. Adams, Robert Philpott, Christine Howard-Davis, Nick Johnson, Vix Hughes, David A. Higgins 2014. Archaeology at the Waterfront vol 1: Liverpool Docks. Lancaster Imprints / Oxford Archaeology North

Stammers, M.K. 2007.  Ships and port management at Liverpool before the opening of the first dock in 1715.  Journal of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, vol.56.
https://www.hslc.org.uk/journal/vol-156-2007/attachment/156-3-stammers/

Stephenson, Roderick A. 1955. The Liverpool Dock System.  Transactions of the Liverpool Nautical Research Society, Volume 8 1953-55 (1955)
https://liverpoolnauticalresearchsociety.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/Article-The-Liverpool-Dock-System.pdf

Websites

National Museums Liverpool
Ten fascinating facts about Liverpool’s Old Dock
https://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/stories/ten-fascinating-facts-about-liverpools-old-dock

Historic Liverpool
1846: Plan of the Liverpool Docks, by Jesse Hartley, Dock Surveyor
https://historic-liverpool.co.uk/old-maps-of-liverpool/1846-plan-liverpool-docks-jesse-hartley-dock-surveyor/#4/65.79/-74.43

The Liverpolitan
Old Dock: a different view. Wednesday, 18 November 2015
https://theliverpolitan.com/blog_old_dock_a_different_view.php

That’s How The Light Gets In blog
Liverpool Old Dock: Down to the bedrock
https://gerryco23.wordpress.com/2010/09/14/liverpool-old-dock-down-to-the-bedrock/

Liverpool World Heritage
LIVERPOOL MARITIME MERCANTILE CITY WORLD HERITAGE SITE MANAGEMENT PLAN 2017 – 2024. Prepared by LOCUS Consulting Ltd. Liverpool City Council
www.liverpoolworldheritage.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/pmd-486-liverpool-whs-management-plan-final-version-as-at-27-sep-2017.pdf

A Rotherhithe Blog
The Howland Great Wet Dock 1699-1807
http://russiadock.blogspot.com/2008/06/rotherhithe-heritage-2-howland-great.html

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A visit to Basingwerk Abbey, Holywell

Introduction

The Chuch is at left, the Chapter House opposite and the ground floor monks’ day parlour whcih once had their dormitory overhead. The line of the cloister, a covered walkway with arcades, and the central garth are marked out by the stone foundations

I have been to Basingwerk Abbey a couple of times, but never got around to writing it up.  It’s a super site, and although it is now a ruin, it retains enough of its original structures to ensure that its layout is easily understood.  St Winifred’s Well, with its lovely late gothic shrine, is only a mile and a bit away, and an important part of Basingwerk’s property for most of its life, will be covered on another post.

Basingwerk Abbey is only a  few miles away from Flint Castle.  The abbey preceded the castle by over a century but when Edward I founded Flint Castle and its accompanying town in 1277, the histories of abbey and castle became entwined. A visit to the abbey is easily combined with a look-in at the attractive riverside remains of Flint Castle.  I have written about the history of Flint Castle on an earlier post.

Digital Aerial Photograph of Basingwerk Abbey. AP_2009_2896 – s, Archive Number
6355272. Source: Coflein

Savignacs and Cistercian Basingwerk Abbey

Remains of the church

The first Basingwerk abbey, dedicated to St Mary, was founded as a Savignac monastery Ranulf II (Ranulf de Gernons) (1099–1153), fourth earl of Chester and later merged with the Cistercian order. It is not known why the Savignac order was chosen by Ranulf, but the monks who were sent to Basingwerk were provided directly by the founding monastery of Savigny in southwest Normandy itself. It became Cistercian in 1147.  Most of the monks who served there subsequently, up until the 15th century, were English, aliens in territory that was a bone of contention between England and Wales.

A monastic order is formed of a shared set of spiritual ideals, often spelled out in considerable detail in rules that covered everything from how many times a day a monk should pray, communally or individually, to where and when they could speak, eat and sleep, and what work they should engage in. All orders involved, at least in theory, a degree of renunciation and isolation by communities of monks, but these ideals were eroded as the influence of monastic houses grew.  The trajectory of monastic history in Europe changed in the late 11th century and early 12th century with the establishment of the so-called reforming orders, who wanted a purer, less self-indulgent and more hard-working approach to cloistered living than other contemporary monastic institutions offered.  The reforming orders believed that the Rule of St Benedict, as it had been originally conceived and set down in the 6th Century Italy, was the key to recovering a holier and more disciplined approach to a communal life of worship. The Carthusian order was established in 1084, the Cistercian order in 1098, the Savignac order between 1109 and 1112.

12th Century links between Cistercian monasteries.Although Citeaux, the node for all Cistercian abbeys, established early new bases in France, it was Clairvaux under the lead of St Bernard that was responsible for the earliest new abbeys in Wales. Of these Whitland was the most important for the northward spread of monasticism. The green lines emanating from Savigny reflect the Savignac order, which merged with the Cistercians after only 20 years, in 1147. So although Basingwerk in the north and Neath in the south were founded as Savignac orders, after 1147 they were brought under the rule of the Cistercians at Citeaux.  Source: Evans, D.H. Evans 2008, Valle Crucis Abbey (Cadw).

In Wales one of the most successful of these orders was the Cistercian order, which left remains in north, mid and south Wales.  Valle Crucis in Llangollen is the nearest of the Cistercian abbeys to the Chester-Wrexham areas, established in 1201, and is discussed in a series of earlier posts, which begins here with Part 1.  The Savignac order is much less well represented throughout Britain, and the reason for this is that in 1147 it was amalgamated with the Cistercian order.  Basingwerk Abbey, established as a Savignac monastery, became Cistercian in that year.

Because of their similarities the Savignacs and Cistercians were a good match, but there were differences too, largely in terms of the constitutional framework and systems of accountability.  To ensure that these were understood after the fusion, Savignac monasteries were put under the supervision of an appropriately located and senior Cistercian order.  Basingwerk was put under authority of Buildwas Abbey in Shropshire, which had also originally been Savignac.  This was perfectly in keeping with the Cistercian hierarchical approach to monastic management with every new monastery answerable and accountable to a mother house.  The mother house for the entire order was Cîteaux, and Clairvaux was the mother abbey for Whitland in south Wales, which was established by monks from Clairvaux itself. Whitland in turn established other abbeys including Strata Marcella near Welshpool, and this abbey in turn established Valle Crucis.   This system created a network of houses that all linked back to the ultimate mother house at Cîteaux (Cistercium in Latin) in France, the founding monastery of the Cistercian order.  Every Cistercian abbot had to return from his abbey to Cîteaux every year for what was known as the General Chapter, a great conference of the Cistercian abbots. 

A more detailed history of monasticism, and the Cistercians in particular, is included in Part 1 of the series on Valle Crucis.

Cadw guardianship monument drawing of Basingwerk Abbey. Survey-plan. Cadw Ref. No. 216/9a4. Scale 1:192. Source: Coflein

The foundation and economic basis of Basingwerk Abbey at Holywell

Exterior of the refectory

The first Basingwerk Abbey was probably in wood, and was located at a different but nearby site possibly somewhere in the vicinity of Hên Blas in Coleshill, near a now-lost castle.  There is a reference to a fortification in the Annales Cambriae describing how, when Henry II advanced into Wales from Chester,  Owain Gwynedd prepared for the upcoming battle by digging a large ditch associated with a hastily built camp at a site called Dinas Basing.  It is thought that this was the castle known to have been in the area of Hên Blas, which lies on a ridge between two streams and overlooks the Dee estuary.  Excavations in the 1950s demonstrated the existence of a 12th century motte-and-bailey castle , which was flattened by Llewelyn the Great in the early 13th century, and was replaced with a defended courtyard with timber-framed buildings.

The central garth on a very moody day looking at the remains of the church. The tall upstanding ruin is the main remnant of the church at its east end. Photo taken from within the refectory

Basingwerk Abbey was later rebuilt in stone at the current site of the ruins, possibly in the 1150s, probably when Henry II granted a charter to the house and endowed it with the wealthy manor of Glossop in Derbyshire to assist with its financial future, 10 years after it became Cistercian.  The general location seems to have been strategic rather than purely spiritual.  The area of Tegeingl is located in the Four Cantrefs between the earldom of Chester and Welsh Gwynedd, always the subject of territorial dispute between England and Wales and a source of regional discontent until Edward I completed his invasion in the late 13th century.  The establishment of a large French monastery was probably part of this process of establishing a presence, and a holy one at that.  Although the monastery was later mainly populated by English monks, the Welsh too saw the benefit of patronizing a prestigious religious establishment and both Llywelyn ab Iorwerth (d. 1240) and his son, Dafydd ap Llywelyn (d. 1246) were benefactors. 

Detail of Map 12, page 91 in Williams 1990 showing Cistercian Lands in Wales, with those of Basingwerk marked in red. Click to enlarge.

When an abbey was founded, its endowment included a number of properties that included farmland or pasture that were intended to support it by the provision of produce to make it self sustaining and later by selling produce.  Some of these could be quite substantial manors, but others were smaller farms, which the Cistercians referred to as granges.  These could resemble mini monastic establishments and often had their own chapels. Later still, properties with their land could be rented out to tenants, but as late as the early 16th century, Abbot Nicholas Pennant was busy creating a new open enclosure in the mountains adjacent to the monastery apparently for agricultural development.

Gelli Chapel, from Thomas Pennant’s 18th Century Tour in Wales. Source: National Library of Wales, via Wikipedia

Based on the work of D.H. Williams in his 1990 Atlas, Silvester and Hankinson 2015 list all the known Basingwerk granges, shown on the above map produced by Williams. These were supplemented in 2001 by Williams in 2001.  Apart from two properties in Derbyshire these are all concentrated in northeast Wales and the Wirral and include, in alphabetical order:  Baggechurch /Beggesburch Grange, Bagillt; Calcot; Gelli Grange, either at Gelli or Gelli Fawr; lands in Whitford and the adjacent parish of Cwm; the Lordship of Greenfield, alias Fulbrook, including lands of Merton Abbot and party of Holywell town; and Over Grange, Holywell (all in Flintshire).  Lands with uncertain boundaries have also been identified elsewhere in the area, including Mostyn, Wake, Flint and Gwersylt as well as transhumant pasture close to property belonging to Valle Crucis Abbey at Moelfre-fawr in Denbighshire, at Boch-y-rhaiadr and Gwernhefin. They also owned Lake Tegid at Bala.

Beyond Wales, there were also three granges on the Wirral: Caldy Grange (West Kirby), Thornton Grange and Lache Grange (known as “La Lith”), as well as the granges in Charlesworth at Glossop, their mos profitable property, and leased land in Chapel le Frith. 

Over Grange, Holywell. Source: Williams 1990, plate 39, page 120. No indication of when the photograph was taken.

Of this list, only two buildings seem to have survived into relatively recent times, the remnants of two granges.  A chapel at Gelli Fawr in Whitford (Flints), apparently once belonging to Basingwerk Abbey was recorded in  a late 18th-century drawing which suggests that the chapel was part of a larger building complex. More can be found about the building and its possible function it in Silvester and Hankinson 2015.  Another grange, Over Grange, was listed by Cadw in 1991, according to Silverster and Hankinson, and was located located to the southwest of the modern farm house, and has been much-altered.  The photograph below shows it with small cross over the gable.

The Coflein website says that it is believed that Basingwerk Abbey originally constructed a windmill on this site, but the present structure probably dates to the late18 or early 19th century.  Now restored. Source: Coflein 804658 – NMR Site Files. Archive Number 6259181

To support its farming activities, the monastery built watermills, windmills and fulling mills.  Abbot Thomas Pennant (abbot from 1481 to 1522) appears to have been particularly active in the building of mills.  Records indicate that there were at least four windmills, at least three watermills, and at least two fulling mills, as well as a tithe barn in Coleshill.

The site of the Holywell windmill is thought to be preserved by the surviving windmill that can be seen today, shown right.  Two of the windmills were on the Wirral. Rowan Patel’s research has found that the Basingwerk windmill that stood at West Kirby area had been established at around 1152, and was probably upgraded and even replaced several times.  It stood on a high spot near the coast, an ideally windy location, and eventually featured on sea charts as a major landmark for coastal navigation.   It was mentioned in Henry VIII’s Valor Ecclesiasticus, the valuation of all monastic properties. Patel has found that after the Dissolution the mill became the property of the Crown and was rented to Thomas Coventree for an annual sum of 40s.  Rowan Patel’s research suggests that the second Basingwerk windmill was at Newbold, east of West Kirby, mentioned in the Taxatio of Pope Nicholas IV in 1291, where a Newbold windmill was referred to and valued at 40s a year.  Before the Dissolution it appears to have been rented out to Thomas Coyntre in 1525 on a 100 year lease at 40s a year.  By the time of the Dissolution, Thomas’s son Richard Coventry was apparently paying rent to the Crown, and in 1659 William Coventry, presumably a descendant of Richard’s, was still paying rent.  In 1664 it is next recorded having been sold to one Thomas Bennett in who donated it to the support of the poor.  Patel notes that in 1546 two men stole oats, barley and pease worth 10d, indicating the cereals proposed at the mill in the mid-16th century if not before.

Watermills continued to have a value well into the 20th century, and medieval mills will have been replaced over time, removing the visible remains of them, particularly along the valley that ran down the hill behind St Winifred’s Well and past Basingwerk before emptying into the Dee.

Economic Values excerpted from Williams 1990, map 21, p.105, showing the dominance of the agricultural contribution to the abbey’s income

Basingwerk had a large amount of livestock.  The hills and newly cleared meadows around Basingwerk were ideal for sheep in the uplands and cattle in river valleys and pastures.  The Welsh princes are also recorded as expecting two horses annually from Basingwerk which may indicate that the monks, like those of Cymer Abbey, were breeding horses.

As well as agriculture, which made up most of its income, Basingwerk was also involved in industrial activities, owning or leased industrial properties, Williams lists silver mining as a component of Basingwerk’s economic activities, and this is supported by Gerald of Wales whose trip through Wales in 1188 records leaving Conwy and heading east through Tegeingl through “a country rich in minerals of silver, where money is sought in the bowels of the earth” before spending the night at Basingwerk.  The abbey was also involved in the salt trade, with salt extraction enterprises in Northwich and possibly Middlewich.   Williams notes a coal mine leased from the Crown in Coleshill.  Lead was also mined at Basingwerk, probably making use of the same resources that had been exploited by the Romans in the area.

Economic resources excerpted from Williams 1990, map 22, p.105

Timber was taken from woodlands in Penllyn in Merionydd for housing, hedges, fuel and other requirements, as well as for sale.  Tenants were permitted to take a reasonable amount of firewood.  Assarting, the removal of woodland for conversion to agricultural land and other uses was a common activity in the middle ages.

Fishing probably made up a significant part of the diet, as it did at most Cistercian monasteries.  Basingwerk held the fishing rights for Lake Tegid at Bala, which it owned, and had a weir at West Kirby.  Prince Dafydd granted them one fifth of the catch at Rhuddlan in the 13th century.  They may also have purchased fish caught in the nearby coastal waters.

Basingwerk had a number of urban properties too, in Holywell, Flint, Chester, and Shrewsbury, which served as bases in town for the abbot and his representatives, which were probably loaned to friends of the monastery, but could also be leased out for additional income if required.  The Shrewsbury house was probably a legacy of the abbey’s connection with Buildwas Abbey after the amalgamation of the Cistercian and Savignac orders.

The fan vaulting in St Winifred’s Well at Holywell

A major feather in the financial cap of Basingwerk was St Winifred’s shrine with its beautiful natural spring.  The Holywell shrine of St Winifred was also another source of travelers requiring somewhere to stay and something to eat.  St Winifred’s shrine was granted in 1093 to St Werburgh’s Abbey in Chester, but was passed to Basingwerk in 1240, together with the living of Holywell church.  An abbey with a pilgrim shrine had a whole world of opportunities for income generation, and St Winifred’s was not only famous in its own right for its powers of healing and provision of miraculous cures, but was on the pilgrim trail to Bardsey Island at the end of the Llŷn peninsula and Ireland, via Anglesey.  In 1427 it was given a considerable boost when Pope Martin V granted indulgences for those visiting the shrine and giving alms to the chapel.  Indulgences rewarded certain behaviours, like pilgrimages, with a remission of sins, meaning less time in purgatory.  Royal visitors included King Henry V in around 1416 and Edward IV in 1461, helping to raise the profile of the shrine, which continues to welcome pilgrims today.  It became even more attractive from the late 15th – early 15th century when the shrine was provided with a spectacular gothic building that surrounded the spring.  I will cover Holywell in a separate post.

A traditional method of income acquisition for monasteries was appropriating a church and its income, sometimes to cover a particular expense, such as a major building project, and sometimes just to supplement income.  The Cistercians officially frowned on this practice, but the ban on appropriating church incomes did not survive very long.  Even so, Basingwerk had appropriated surprisingly few, just parish churches at Holywell, Glossop and a third at an unknown location, possibly to be identified with Abergele.

The fairs and markets granted to Basingwerk during Edward I’s reign in the 1290s are discussed below, and this must have been a considerable aid to their income.

Behind the monks’ day room and the dormitory above it was a block of buildings the function of which remains unclear. Suggestions include an extension of the abbot’s personal quarters, with rooms for special visitors, or a dedicated guest wing.

In spite of these various forms of income, Basingwerk sometimes found itself in financial stress. The monastery had been unable to provide a required payment to Edward III in 1346, and by way of explanation complained of the burdens of hospitality that came partly with being a Cistercian abbey, which put a great deal of emphasis on providing free hospitality, and partly from being near a major road, which had become increasingly busy after Edward I had moved forward into Wales, establishing market towns whose merchants moved between Wales and Chester for trade.  Even later in its history, in the late 15th/early 1gth century, it was reported that guests were so numerous that they had to take their meals in two sittings. Smith paints an evocative picture of other travelers in Wales who “cautiously flitted from one English settlement to the next, seeking safe overnight bases where food and shelter could be found “in a land in which rumors of insurrection abounded.” Basingwerk was by no means the only abbey to complain of this burden, which was a particular problem for Cistercian abbeys, but was shared by any monastic community that sat at a busy location.  Birkenhead Priory, which ran the ferry that allowed crossings between the Wirral and Lancashire for access to Chester and beyond (and later Liverpool), found itself in real difficulties due to the requirement to supply hospitality for ferry users who might be stuck at the monastery for several nights in bad weather.

A rather more specific problem was the expectation by the Welsh princes to use the abbey’s Boch-y-rhaiadr range for its annual hunting expeditions, during which the abbey was expected to provide bread, butter, cheese and fish for a hunting party of 300, expanding to 500, with money due in lieu when hunting did not take place.  This was abolished by Edward I after his conquest of Wales.

The Cistercian monasteries in Wales were not exempt from all taxes, or subsidies, and some of the abbots and their community were employed as tax collectors.  Other occasional charges were made on the abbey, such as a demand for financial contributions towards the marriage of Edward III’s sister.  Basingwerk provided £5 in 1333.

The abbey, being so active in economic production in the Holywell-Flint areas, was responsible for the management of its lands and the personnel who managed and worked the land, but was also required to function in a judicial role, its courts administering justice and meting out punishments.  Lekai says that the monastery had “a pillory, tumbrel and other instruments of punishment, although the penalty most often inflicted was a fine.”

The church is on the left and the two arches of the chapter house at right,.  All the buildings were arranged around the central green area, the garth. The stone foundations for the covered and arcaded walkway survive.

Most of the Cistercian abbeys in Wales, at one time or another, had a diplomatic role acting as intermediaries between the Welsh princes and the Crown, acting for either side, a role that was in their political interests to accept.  For example In 1241 Henry III used the Lache grange for a conference between himself and Prince Dafydd’s clerk.  In 1246 Henry III chose the abbot of Basingwerk to escort Prince Dafydd’s wife Isabella from Dyserth Castle to Godstow nunnery near Oxford.  A decade later, Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffyd used an abbot of Basingwerk to carry a letter to Henry III.

In 1291 the Taxatio Ecclesiastica of Pope Nicholas IV valued Basingwerk at £68 8s 0d, gross value (compared with Valle Crucis at £91 8s 0d, and Margam  at £255 27s 4½d).  In 1346 it claimed that its lands were sterile, and it went through some bad years, but in spite of the rebellion of Owain Glyn Dŵr in the early 1400s and a very troublesome period when a monk took the abbacy without being legally elected in the first half of the 15th century, with a similar problem in the later 15th century, the appointment of Thomas Pennant in the early 16th century seems to have turned things around.  In 1535, Henry VIII’s Valor Ecclesiasticus valued the monastery at £157 15s 2d.  Margam by this time was valued at £188 14s 0d, and Valle Crucis £214 3s 5d.
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The layout of the monastery

Plan of Basingwerk Abbey. Source: Robinson, D. M., 2006. Basingwerk Abbey (Cadw).

The remains of the monastery conform to a standardized layout favoured by all the orders that followed the rule of St Benedict, clearly shown on the Cadw plan to the right, which helpfully colour-codes the dates for each part of the building. Few parts of the 12th century abbey are left.  Most date to the early 13th century, but the monk’s refectory was built in the mid-13th century.  Much of the abbey was rebuilt in the 13th century, which was not unusual when, for example, a new abbot might want to make a mark, but in this case it is possible that much of not most of it was done due to damage inflicted during the wars between the English and the Welsh, when Edward paid compensation to the abbey to enable it to carry out repairs, about which more below.

The cloister arcade was apparently remodelled in the late 14th century.  In the late 15th century Abbot Thomas Pennant carried out building work not only at the abbey but also at the shrine of St Winifred just up the road in Holywell.  There are various aspects of the site where both date and function remain unclear.  The western range, opposite the chapter house, would have been part of the original layout, used to house the lay brethren, discussed below, but may have gone out of use if a new use for them could be found when the lay brethren were no long featured in the community.  Although the above plan shows that the possible guest accommodation is undated, timbers from fire damage Basingwerk were saved for future analysis and tree-ring dating shows that the felling-date of the crown-post truss was c. 1385.  This is one of the earliest Welsh tree-ring dated.  The dating was commissioned by Cadw.

The church is at left, the chapter house to its right, the day room and the windows of the first floor dormitory next, and set to the far right is the refectory

Although every monastery differed in some aspects, the basic template of buildings surrounding a central square area, a garth (green area) with surrounding walkway (the cloisters) with the monastic church making up one side, was a universal arrangement.  The church was usually on the north side, as it was here, and often included two chapels in the transepts that flanked the crossing area where the choir was located.  Some churches featured towers either above the crossing or at one end.  The other buildings usually included a chapter house (the important monastic meeting room), day room with a dormitory on its first floor, a refectory, and sometimes an undercroft for storage. with an external door leading into the cloister on one side and the monastic precinct beyond. A sacristy was usually attached to the church, sandwiched between the church and the chapter house, which is how matters were arranged at both Basingwerk and Valle Crucis.  The cloisters were usually supplied with desks (called carrels) along the exterior wall of the church  where the monks could study and write.

The precinct, in which this arrangement of buildings sat, could include other structures like farm buildings, and visitor accommodation and often included a gatehouse, the whole surrounded by some form of boundary.  A key feature of Cistercian monasteries was good drainage, which supplied the kitchens and fish ponds, where present, and took away toilet waste, and various parts of the Basingwerk drainage system can be traced at the site.

Part of the abbey’s drainage system

Part of the abbey’s drainage system

The church, with its entrance at far left and the south transept at right

Many of these features can be found at Basingwerk.  The church is largely in ruins, but the layout is still visible in the very masonry walls that sit on the grass, including the columns that supported the roof and divided the church into a central nave with three aisles and seven bays, two side transepts each with a small transept and an eastern presbytery where the high altar would be located.  At around 50 metres in length the church would have been one of the smallest Cistercian churches in Wales. Only Cymer near Dolgellau is shorter, at just over 30m in length.  At the entrance to the presbytery a stone set into the floor may have supported a lectern.

What remains of the south transept, with the presbytery beyond

Basingwerk Abbey refectory wall

Opposite the former church, and one of the best preserved parts of the abbey, is south range with the refectory, which was built perpendicular to the cloister rather than lying along it on a north-south axis.  The refectory in Chester Cathedral, the former St Werburgh Abbey, was built along the length of the cloister, limiting its size, but the the refectory at Basingwerk as limited only by the size of the precinct.  This was probably a change introduced in the 13th century remodelling of much of the abbey, replacing a 12th century refectory that lay along the side of the cloister on an east-west axis.  It is a substantial building with many features preserved in its walls.  This includes the former entrance and stairway to the pulpit, now blocked off, from which religious texts would have been read during meals.  S series of tall windows would have let in a lot of light, and there was a hatch between the refectory and the kitchen for the convenient handing over of food, as well as a cupboard, which was apparently shelved, opposite.

The monks’ day parlour at ground floor level, with the dormitory on the first floor, the windows suggesting the original height of this building

The east range of buildings, again along the edge of the cloister, extends between the east range and the church.  As you face this range, running from right to left are the monks’ day parlour, over which was the dormitory, the length of which over-ran the cloister and ran parallel for a short distance with the refectory;  a long thin parlour is next, and then most importantly is the chapter house, where the monks met daily to discuss the business of the order.  To its left is the sacristy, which adjoined the south transept of the church.

The Chapter House

The sacristy to the left of the chapter house, with doorway leading into the church to the left.

Looking towards where the western range would have been located. The building beyond is now the café.

Opposite this range was the western range, of which there is almost nothing left.  In a Cistercian monastery this was usually used, at least in the early decades, for the lay brethren.  These were members of the monastic community who worked the land, and were not required either to be as educated as the monks, or to dedicate a similar amount of time to worship.  They worked the land and were maintained by the monastery.  As properties were leased out, the lay brethren were increasingly redundant and the western range was usually put to different uses.  It is not known how it would have been used at Basingwerk.


Edward I and Basingwerk Abbey

Plan of Flint Castle. Source: Coflein

When Edward I settled on his location for his new castle at Flint, Basingwerk Abbey was just a few miles west of the new site.  The monks of Basingwerk Abbey, which was established over 100 years earlier in 1132, must have wondered about the impact of the castle on their own security and their livelihood.  During the first few months of the castle construction process in the summer of 1277 Edward stayed near Basingwerk.  Edward saw himself as a religious man.  He had been on crusade, and had made a vow to establish a monastic house of his own, under the Cistercian order, and had selected a site for it in Cheshire.  Vale Royal Abbey was already underway in 1277 near Northwich, Edward having laid the first stone in early August.  It seems unlikely that Edward was not often a guest of the Basingwerk Cistercian Abbey during the building of Flint, which apart from being obliged under Cistercian rules to provide hospitality, was unlikely to reject a royal visitor.  Although Basingwerk had been founded by an English patron, Ranulf II it was probably more in tune with Welsh interests by the arrival of Edward.  Indeed, earlier in 1277 seven Cistercian abbots had written a letter to Pope Gregory X supporting Prince Llewellyn ap Gruffud against charges placed by the Bishop of St Asaph, although the abbot of Basingwerk was not amongst them.

Drainage at Basingwerk, from the refectory

Whatever their personal leanings, it would have been very much in the interests of the order for good relations to be maintained.  They may have offered advice about his plans for Vale Royal, and it is clear that some of the abbots in the Welsh-based monasteries, including Basingwerk, played an invaluable role as intermediaries between the Welsh and the English.  Fortunately for the monks at Basingwerk, Edward I chose the Cistercian abbey at Aberconwy for his headquarters, forcing that monastic community to eventually shift further south along the Conwy valley to a new home.

The monks of Basingwerk would have been less than astute, however, if they had not regarded the new castle with misgivings, and if they had concerns about being caught in the middle of a fight between Edward and Llywelyn, their worries would later be justified.  In the 1270s and 1280s the abbey suffered damage during the wars of Edward I, in spite of letters of protection issued to it in 1276,1278, and 1282 and in 1284 Edward granted £100 compensation to the monks after the army stole corn and cattle and the loss of workers who were abducted, presumably for labour.  An additional 132 4d was paid in damages to churches in Holywell.  Basingwerk was not the only abbey in the area to suffer and receive compensation.  Valle Crucis near Llangollen received a sum of £160.00, and nearby Aberconwy was occupied by Edward I’s forces and its monastic community was forced to move to a new home to the south, at Maenan.  Relations between the abbey and castle obviously continued to remain good, because when the castle was completed in 1280 a monk of Basingwerk was engaged as the chaplain to the royal garrison.

One of John Speed’s maps showing Flint Castle and town. The castle and town of Flint as mapped by John Speed in 1610, showing the original road layout and market place. Source: National Library of Wales

At Flint, Edward had established a Norman-style new town as part of his vision for colonizing various parts of Wales.  This was an English settlement, and any new burgesses prepared to live there was given numerous incentives.  In 1278 Edward granted it permission to hold weekly markets and an annual fair.  In 1292 he granted Basingwerk the same permissions for Holywell, having granted them permission to hold an annual fair at their Glossop manor in 1290.  The monks could charge market stall holders rent for the duration of the market, a nice source of income, as well as selling their own products.  Basingwerk, with its water mills, windmills and fulling mills and land under both grazing and grain, was certainly in a position to sell a number of products, including grain, livestock and livestock products including meat, skins and wool. Welsh wool was recognized as being of very high quality, sometimes superior to even that of the better known wool produced by the Yorkshire monastic producers.  The Taxatio ecclesiastica of Pope Nicholas IV in 1291 recorded that Basingwerk had 2000 sheep producing 10 sacks of wool, 53 cows (at a ratio of 37.1:1), and no goats. Even if it found itself in competition with Flint, Basingwerk’s fairs probably represented the opportunity to raise the abbey’s income.  Its industrial products, as well as some of its wool, may have been sold for export.

The 14th – 16th century

Burton and Stöber describe how by the mid 14th century there were reports that the abbey was in debt, and in the fifteenth century some of its abbots were a distinct liability:

in 1430 the house was seized by Henry Wirral, who made himself abbot, and the following year he was engaged in a legal dispute for the office with Richard Lee. Despite the court ruling in favour of Lee, Henry continued in power at Basingwerk until 1454 when he was arrested for various misdemeanours and deposed. Matters did not improve, for in the following decade Richard Kirby, monk of Aberconwy, disputed the abbacy with Edmund Thornbar. Although the General Chapter ordered that Edmund be recognized as abbot, Richard was still in office in 1476.

Manuscript by Gutan Owain, National Library of Wales, MS3026C. Source: The National Library of Wales

Fortunately the abbey’s fortunes improved under Welsh Abbot Thomas Pennant, who ruled the house for about forty years from around 1481 to 1523, although this was very much a last hurrah before Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries beginning in 1535. By the early 16th century Welsh bard Tudur Aled (died 1526) makes it clear that there was lead roofing and stained glass at the abbey.   Tudur Aled praised Abbot Thomas , commending his his learning but also his generosity, generally an indication that they were being sponsored by a given abbot, as at Valle Crucis.  Gutun Owain seems to have benefited from Basingwerk Abbey’s patronage.  Owain is notable for having addressed over fifteen poems to Cistercian abbots, and is known to have stayed as a guest at Valle Crucis and Strata Florida as well as Basingwerk.  Although the late fifteenth century manuscript known as the Black Book of Basingwerk (Llyfr Du Basing, now NLW MS 7006D, which was the mainly the work of Gutun Owain copied into a single volume) was probably held by Basingwerk at the time of the dissolution in around 1536, it is thought in fact to have been the work of copyist monks at Valle Crucis.

Thomas Pennant was not a man of undiluted virtue.  In an order where celibacy was required and monks were not permitted to marry, Pennant not only fathered a family, but his son Nicholas, became the last abbot of Basingwerk, which in theory was an act of simony banned by the order.  When the abbey closed, probably in 1536, with just three monks, Nicholas was the abbot.

St Mary on the Hill, Chester. Source: GENUKI

After the Dissolution every valuable object and piece of structural material was stripped for Henry VIII’s treasury.  James says that part of the timber ceiling is at Cilcain, and that stained glass can be found at Llanasa.  Burton and Stöber add that the choir stalls from the abbey were transferred to the church of St Mary on the Hill in Chester.  Lead from the roof was removed, and may have been used for the repair of Holt Castle on the Dee and Dublin Castle. Williams adds that it may have been employed also in other crown buildings in Dublin, and that it is possible that the wooden sedilia in the parish church of St Mary, Nercwys, was from Basingwerk.  There is a tradition that the Jesse window was reinstalled in the parish church of St Dyfriog (Llanrhaeadr-yng-Nghinmeirch) but this remains unconfirmed.

I have been unable to get access to St Mary on the Hill, a comprehensive history of which is on the Chesterwiki. It was decomissioned in 1972 and now describes itself as a Creative Space and venue for a range of activities.  However, the Chesterwiki site says that the fittings, presumably including the Basinwerk choir stalls, were removed after the church was decomissioned, although it does not say where these fittings went.

From the 18th century the site attracted artists who recorded features that are now lost.  In the early 20th century a large section of the south transept collapsed.  In 1923 the site was put in State guardianship and in 1984 it was put into the car of Cadw.

Basingwerk Abbey miniature by Moses Griffiths, c.1778. Source: National Library of Wales, via Wikipedia

Final comments

The building that may be a guesthouse, has had burned timbers dendro-dated, which give the roof a date of c.1385. Source: RCAHMW Exhibitions: Dendrochronology Partnerships

Information about Basingwerk Abbey is fragmented and partial, but researchers have pieced together a history of the abbey that tells a story about abbey’s past, beginning as a Savignac establishment before being absorbed into the Cistercian network of monasteries.  The disputes between the Welsh princes and Henry III and Edward I caused grief for the north Wales monasteries, but they survived to rebuild and move forward.  Like other abbeys in Wales, the abbots of the abbey had a diplomatic role, often acting as intermediaries between Wales and England.  As members of the wider community with an important economic role, the abbey was often involved in local judicial matters. Financial difficulties in the 14th and 15th centuries are recorded and but again the monastery survived these difficulties.  In the early 16th century the abbey became a haven for Welsh bards, supporting their work. Throughout its history, its location on the main route through north Wales meant that it was obliged to provide more hospitality than more secluded monastic houses, whilst the shrine of St Winifred, whilst contributing to the prestige and financial value of the abbey, also required some management to prevent it becoming a drain on the abbey’s obligation to provide shelter and food.  After the Dissolution in 1536, the abbey was decommissioned, its valuables removed and its properties either sold off our leased out.  Today it is managed by Cadw and offers an excellent visitor experience.


Visitor Information

Find the captions and see the full-sized map at https://greenfieldvalley.com/greenfield-valley-zones/. There is an interactive version of the map at https://greenfieldvalley.com/explore/interactive-map/.

The site is free to visit.  There is no visitor information centre but a small modern shop sells guide books, postcards and souvenirs relating to Basingwerk, St Winifred’s Shrine and the Greenfield Valley Park. The abbey’s postcode is CH8 7GH and the car park is on Bagillt road, just to the west of the enormous railway bridge, opposite a small trade/industrial estate.

There is a big car park at the foot of the abbey, shown to the right left on the A548, just west of the enormous railway bridge, which has a fairly gentle metalled incline up to the abbey, with a bench and information map half way up.

There is also a café just outside the main gates, which in October 2022 was doing a good coffee and a splendid lunch.

Basingwerk Abbey is a component part of Greenfield Valley Park, and is popular with dog walkers and children, so if you want a quiet visit it is probably best to go on a weekday outside the holidays. The rest of Greenfield Valley Park is an excellent visit in its own right, with a remarkable amount of industrial archaeology within its borders, and plenty of interpretation boards.  I have posted about the industrial archaeology of the Green Valley Park here.

If you want to stay in the medieval period, St Winifred’s Well is about 1.5 miles through the park (shown as No.9 at the very top of the map right), or if you prefer to drive it has its own car park.  Flint Castle is only 4 or so miles down the A548 towards Chester, and makes for a great visit.  I wrote about the history of Flint Castle on an earlier post, Together, the three sites make a very fine medieval day.

Sources

Books and papers:

Burton, J. and Stöber, K. 2015.  Abbeys and Priories of Medieval Wales.  University of Wales Press.  https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt9qhdvn.13

Davies, Paul R. 2021. Towers of Defiance. YLolfa

Elfyn Hughes, R., J. Dale, I. Ellis Williams and D. I. Rees. Studies in Sheep Population and Environment in the Mountains of North-West Wales I. The Status of the Sheep in the Mountains of North Wales Since Mediaeval Times. Journal of Applied Ecology , Apr., 1973, Vol. 10, No. 1 (Apr., 1973), p.113-132
https://www.jstor.org/stable/2404720

Evans D.H. 2008, Valle Crucis Abbey, Cadw

Knight, L. Stanley 1920. The Welsh monasteries and their claims for doing the education of later Medieval Wales. Archaeologia Cambrensis, 6th series, volume 2, 1920, p.257-276
https://journals.library.wales/view/4718179/4728984/314#?xywh=-63%2C345%2C2942%2C1730

Rhys, Ernest (ed.) 1908.  The Itinerary and Description of Wales with an introduction by W. Llewelyn Williams. Everyman’s Library. J.M. Dent and Co, London. and E.P. Dutton and Co (NY)
https://archive.org/details/itinerarythroug00girauoft

Huws, D. 2000.  Medieval welsh Manuscripts. University of Wales Press

James, M.R. 1925.  Abbeys. The Great Western Railway
https://archive.org/details/abbeys-great-western-railway

Jones, Owain, 2013. Historical writing in medieval Wales. PhD Thesis, University of Bangor.
https://research.bangor.ac.uk/portal/files/20577287/null&ved=2ahUKEwjxssbb0tvtAhWmxIsKHQgvBW0QFjAOegQICBAI&usg=AOvVaw2GbJiGy6Sl3SPiTX4K8RqZ

Lekai, Louis L. 1977. The Cistercians. Ideals and Reality. The Kent State University Press

Patel, Rowan 2016. The Windmills and Watermills of Wirral. A Historical Survey. Countyvise Ltd.

Robinson, D. M., 2006. Basingwerk Abbey. Cadw

Silvester, R.J., and Hankinson, R., 2015. The Monastic Granges of East Wales. The Scheduling Enhancement Programme: Welshpool. Clwyd-Powys Archaeological Trust (CPAT)
coflein.gov.uk/media/241/979/652240.pdf

Smith, Joshua Byron 2016. “Til þat he neӡed ful neghe into þe Norþe Walez”: Gawain’s Postcolonial Turn. The Chaucer Review, Vol.51, No.3 (2016), p.295-309
https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5325/chaucerrev.51.3.0295

Williams, David H., 2001. The Welsh Cistercians, Gracewing

Williams, David H., 1990. Atlas of Cistercian Lands. University of Wales Press

Websites:

Coflein
Basingwerk Abbey
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/35649?term=basingwerk%20abbey%20holywell

Monastic Wales
Basingwerk Abbey
https://www.monasticwales.org/browsedb.php?func=showsite&siteID=24
Gutun Owain
https://www.monasticwales.org/person/72
The Black Book of Basingwerk
https://www.monasticwales.org/archive/24
Valle Crucis (Abbey)
https://www.monasticwales.org/browsedb.php?func=showsite&siteID=35

RCAHMW Exhibitions: Dendrochronology Partnerships
Bilingual exhibition panel entitled Partneriaethau Dendrocronoleg; Dendrochronolgy Partnerships, produced by RCAHMW 2013
https://coflein.gov.uk/media/200/524/rcex_026_01.pdf

RCAHMW List of Historic Placenames (searchable database)
https://historicplacenames.rcahmw.gov.uk/

University of Notre Dame
A Knight in St. Patrick’s Purgatory, by Haley Stewart. March 15, 2019
https://churchlifejournal.nd.edu/articles/a-knight-in-st-patricks-purgatory/

An Essay on Cistercian Liturgy by Dr Julie Kerr
Cistercians in Yorkshire, University of Sheffield
www.dhi.ac.uk/cistercians/cistercian_life/spirituality/Liturgy/Cistercian_liturgy.pdf 

 

The chapter house propped up during excavations when M.R. James visited in 1925.

Basingwerk Abbey from the South. 1929 postcard. Source: People’s Collection Wales

Gresford All Saints’ Church – a beginner’s guide to funerary monuments

Full statue angels only arrive on the churchyard scene in the Victorian period.

This informal look at the monuments in Gresford’s All Saints’ church graveyard follows on from three previous posts about All Saints’, the first a general history of the interior, the second a quick look at the splendid gargoyles and grotesques on the exterior of the building.  The third post looked at misericords (fascinatingly carved so-called mercy seats in choir stalls) in a three-part series about misericords in Gresford, Malpas, Bebington and Chester Cathedral.

I began writing this over a year ago, mainly for my own benefit when I was getting to grips with how churchyards develop, what sort of chronological markers can be found and the variety of monument types and themes that could be expected.  I have just re-found the post in my drafts folder and thought that others might find it useful.  This is no more than a very basic introductory starting point for investigating this and other churchyards in the area.

The churchyard surrounds the Gresford parish church of All Saints’ on all sides.  The main part of the cemetery is to the south of the church.  In parish churchyards the area to the north side of the church was usually the last to be occupied by the dead.  This is partly because the brighter areas were favoured, but partly because the darker area was often reserved for church and community events until the 19th century when a requirement for more burial grounds resulted in the extension into all areas of a churchyard.

There is a variety of different tomb styles with the All Saints’ churchyard, mainly belonging to the late-18th, 19th centuries and 20th centuries.  This includes chest tombs, table graves, ledger gravestones, vertical gravestones and sculptural monuments.  Although most of the grave markers are relatively uniform in shape, size and motifs, reflecting standardization in the approach to gravestones, some are very personal and inevitably there are a few that stand out either because they are conspicuously larger than their neighbours, or because they are slightly unusual in some way.

Grave Types

Terminology can differ slightly from publication to publication.  Graves are, on this post at least, subterranean pits into which the deceased is placed.  Grave stones, markers and monuments may sit over the grave to mark their positions and, if required, provide details of the deceased. Head stones are specifically the vertical slabs that sit at the head end of the grave, and may be accompanied by a short foot stone to mark the other end of the grave.  Kerbs are low stone frames for the space occupied by the grave.  Tombs are constructions, sometimes resembling buildings, that contain above-ground storage of the dead, but the term is often applied to false tombs, which are containers that sit on the ground but lie over a subterranean burial like the chest tombs and table tombs that are found at Gresford.  Memorials commemorate the dead, but may not be associated with the grave where people are interred (like war memorials).  There are no mausolea at Gresford or, indeed, at most parish churchyards, but these are standalone buildings, often highly ornate, that contain one or more tombs within.

The following photographs, all from All Saints’, show individual grave marker types that have been mentioned below.  There are other types that do not appear in the All Saints’ churchyard, which are not included here.  Click the image to enlarge so that the descriptions are legible:

The main types of grave marker present in Gresford All Saints’s churchyard, although there are other types too. Click image to enlarge.

Headstones

The dead are buried on their backs facing upwards, with heads to the west, feet to the east.  Table tombs have inscriptions on the ledger (flat top) and the supports may be plain or more elaborate. Headstones face east, with the inscription on the eastern face.  Because many inevitably face away from footpaths, in some cemeteries a name may be etched into the back of the headstone, to identify the deceased, whilst the full details are shown on the east-facing side.  Chest tombs may have decorative components on the side panels, and text may be on both the ledger (flat top) or the side panels, or both.

Date Range

The earliest graves at Gresford are located within the church itself in the north and south aisles, and have been mentioned on the first post about All Saints’, both dating to the 13th century.  They consist of effigies, the inscribed or carved sculpted images of the deceased and represent two of the highest status and wealthiest individuals of local 13th century society.

Marked graves in British parish churchyards were a relatively late phenomenon, the first ones appearing in the 17th century.  These are quite few and far between, and I have not yet seen mention of any in local or neighbouring churchyards.  Grave monuments in the Gresford churchyard date mainly from the late 18th, 19th and early 20th centuries..

18th Century

Ledger of 1710

The earliest graves that I have found are early 18th century, one of the earliest dating to 1710, although there may be earlier examples that I have not noticed, including some completely concealed by ivy.  A number of examples from this period are ledgers, flat tablets that in this churchyard are usually carved from fine-grained yellow stone, often greyed with age, set horizontally into the ground, with large, simple text, and almost no decorative features. Later ledger stones were sometimes provided with small decorative embellishments.

Some of the ledger gravestones flank walkways and paths, forming kerbs and revetments, such as the ones shown on the right that flank the main churchyard path.  It is easy to forget that they are grave markers in their own right.  This is apparently a particular feature of churchyards in Cheshire and Lancashire.

Other ledgers are laid between chest and table tombs, with which they are usually contemporary.  Chest tombs are simply more elaborate versions of ledgers, with the horizontal slab raised off the ground, the space beneath enclosed with stone panels.  Table tombs are also raised ledgers, but on four legs or on three cross-members.  This raising of the ledgers may have been to create something more monumental, to provide more space for inscriptions where a grave is intended for more than one generation of family members, or to prevent the slab being encased in grass, moss, ivy and weeds.

Organized in a row alongside one of the paths, near the east end of the church, are the smallest (c.16in/ 41cm tall) upright grave markers.  These are either footstones that have been separated from their corresponding headstones (only ever inscribed with initials and date if inscribed at all), or were purchased as gravestones by those with few means at their disposal.  None have many inscribed details, and the one shown left, dating to 1778, is particularly minimalist, providing only the initials of the deceased, the year of death and the age at time of death. Others in the row are slightly more informative than this example but there is insufficient space for them to provide detailed information.

Red sandstone chest tomb (with decorative pilasters at each corner), sadly commemorating child deaths, just one month apart, of Robert Jones, aged 12, in July 1791 and Sarah Jones, aged 13, in August 1791, aged 13.

There are a number of chest tombs consisting of four stone panels with a ledger stone set on top.  Chest tombs of all periods are merely monuments like gravestones, in the sense that they do not contain the burial themselves, but sit over the top of subterranean graves.  There is something undeniably spooky about a breach in a chest tomb, but as Trevor Yorke says “Don’t be alarmed when you see a chest tomb with a cracked or missing side, a skeletal arm will not reach out to grab you!  The body was always interred below the ground with the hollow interior empty.”  Most are made of yellow sandstone, but there is one isolated chest tomb in red sandstone.

19th Century

Chest tombs are also a feature of the 19th century, and many of these are more elaborate than earlier forms and have side panels decorated by geometric shapes and small motifs.

Chest tomb dating to 1835, one of a kind within this cemetery

A yellow sandstone chest tomb with another sad inscription, commemorating the death of a 12 year old in 1846 and a 2 year old in 1849.  These are by no means the only records of child and infant mortality in the churchyard.  This grave later went on to house the children’s parents.

An elaborate chest tomb raised on feet and provided with a lid rather than a simple ledger, with decorated panels. The first-mentioned deceased was Bridget Hugo from Truro in Cornwall, who died aged 44 in 1820. It was used again in 1837 for the interment of Elizabeth Hugo, aged 88. Mother or sister?

A table tomb of 1879

Pedestal graves, essentially smaller square versions of chest tombs, also appear at this time.  Like chest graves, pedestal graves could have inscriptions on more than one side.  Some had inscriptions on all four sides, but others might have inscriptions on only one or two, depending on how many people were eventually interred and commemorated.  The pedestal gravestone below is engraved on all four sides with the details of family members related to Timothy Parsonage of Wrexham, who were buried successively in 1811, 1817, 1831, 1839, 1872 and 1875.

Platform of stone paves, surrounded by railings, presumably the remnants of an elaborate monument.

Both chest and pedestal graves could be surrounded by iron railings in the 19th century, and there are several examples at All Saints’.

There are a couple of graves consisting of nothing more than sprawling platforms of paves with a higher raised section in the middle.  It is very probable that the centre of the platform formerly supported some form of monument, now lost, possibly on a fairly narrow stand, such as a cross, that resulted in a fall when the platforms destabilized.  Alternatively, there is a pedestal tomb on a similar platform, which could be an alternative arrangement, although it is more difficult to explain how such a monument could be lost, unless it was destroyed in a fall.

Headstone with kerb defining the area of the grave

The main 19th century cemetery is on the south side of the church and consists of tall headstones of the upright variety with an inscription on the main panel, a few decorative flourishes at the top, and sometimes an epitaph or other line of text at the base.  On several of them the top of the headstone had been carved into a decorative sculptural component in its own right.  These also contain introductory phrases and are often accompanied by religious symbols and motifs.

The area occupied by the body in front of the headstone could be demarcated with a stone kerb or a set of railings.  Although it is difficult to tell because of the long grass, these seem to be confined to a relatively small number of graves, presumably because of the additional cost that would have been incurred.  I noticed at Farndon’s St Chad’s churchyard that the plentiful kerbs accompanying headstones usually belonged to the early 20th century.

Most of the headstones in this section of the churchyard were made of local sandstone, mainly superior fine-grained yellow sandstone, but a few, particularly towards the end of the 19th century, were also made of imported stone, such as rose granite, often highly polished to achieve a glossy surface, such as the 1891 coped stone shown below (interestingly one of the few to be inscribed in Welsh).  Some were partially polished, with parts left unworked to provide contrasts in colour and texture, such as the 1908 example on the right.  Similarly, some of the later grave stones combined different types of stone to draw attention to particular motifs or to highlight inscriptions.  Colour inserts are unusual, but the headstone above includes a blue and white religious symbol, containing the letters IHS. These are usually interpreted as a Christogram, representing the first three letters of the name Jesus Christ’s in Greek, iota eta sigma.   The H is the capitalization of “eta.”

Rose granite coped gravestone

Dotted amongst these more conventional 19th century headstones, and particularly popular in the Victorian periods, is the monumental grave stone, consisting of a large sculptural element supported on an inscribed plinth.  Frequent types are crosses, angels and obelisks.  One example, below far right, has a column on a plinth topped with the crucified Jesus on one side and Mary with the baby Jesus on the other, both protected by a roof.  The relatively tiny cross at its base was dedicated to an infant.

The later 20th Century

At some point between the late 19th and early 20th century, highly polished imported black stone became desirable for gravestones.  There are a couple of full-sized early versions of this stone in the Gresford churchyard, most of which have both polished and unpolished sections to create texture and contrast.

As the 20th century proceeded, the same stone type was used to make tiny grave markers usually laid flat, with white or gold lettering.  Because those commemorated by these stones are often within living memory of children or grandchildren, some of them may be visited and flowers often accompany them, real or artificial, a brightly coloured foil for the standardized lines of shiny black polished stone, quite unlike the earlier, upright headstones.  Although very different from their monumental antecedents they give a sense of continuity from the 18th century.

Grave locations

The irregularly shaped churchyard

The wish for burial within a church or as close as possible to the church, demonstrated by the two 13th century examples in the north and south aisles of the church itself, was driven by the belief that proximity to holiness would confer some form of additional divine spirituality on the dead.  The chancel, the east end section where the choir and high altar were located, was particularly desirable as a burial place.  Throughout history, burial within church premises was reserved only for a limited number of people including senior clergy, those drawn from the upper echelons of society, and those who had provided financial support to the church.  Others might be buried in private mausolea in their own premises, but most would be consigned to a churchyard or, later, a dedicated cemetery.  The north side of a parish church was often the last to be used for burials, in some cases because the cemetery might have been used in early years for village community events, but also because it, or parts of it, were sometimes reserved for unconsecrated burials such as babies who died before baptism and suicides; but in some cases it appears to be simply because the darker north side was seen as less attractive and further away from the divine.

Designs and motifs in the churchyard

Elaborate monument to William Trevor Parkins, Chancellor of St Asaph, who died in 1908 and is also commemorated with a stained glass window in the church. His wife and son are also commemorated on the the monument.

Although gravestones were primarily used for recording details of the deceased, motifs, emblems and symbols were introduced in the late 17th century, and became popular in the 18th century, establishing memento mori and other themes as part of the language of the grave marker.  Most of these helped to express ideas with which the deceased might wish to be connected, a visual reference to the connection between the living, the dead and the afterlife.  The range of visual features in the Gresford churchyard is fairly limited, but they echo churchyard motifs in other local churchyards, suggesting that there was a limited range of ideas with which local people were familiar or felt comfortable, such as as crosses, floral motifs and the letters IHS that stand for the first three letters of the name of Jesus in Latin.  Others are rather more specific, and convey a particular association, such as a cross showing the Star of David and a military grave showing the Canadian maple.  If anyone can enlighten me about the multiple serpents wending their way through half-globes on the Celtic-influenced cross on the image to the right, the 1908 monument to William Trevor Parkins, I would be very grateful!  There is a similar one in the Overleigh Old Cemetery in Chester.

Instead of looking at the limited range of symbols and motifs on gravestones at Gresford, a future post will look at some of these.

Challenges for grave architecture

Heavy central erosion to the headstone on the left; de-lamination of the sandstone of the headstone on the right, leaving a small part of the original surface containing the inscription in one corner

In all churchyards, some grave markers fare better than others, thanks to unavoidable natural processes.  Most of the graves at All Saints’ are in good condition, and the churchyard as a whole is well maintained and cared for.  Natural processes, however, can defy all attempts to conserve grave markers and there is no blame attached to this.  The greater percentage of grave markers at All Saints’ are made of friable yellow sandstone, which is susceptible to damage by extremes of the weather, to the impact of concentrated dripping from trees and to the fumes from motor pollution.  Some of this is mild erosion, some of it has rendered text illegible whilst leaving the basic form unharmed, but other cases are very severe, such as examples shown here, some of which have large patches resembling melted ice-cream, whilst others are suffering serious de-lamination.

Like most rural churchyards, some of the churchyard is well manicured, and other parts of it have been left to develop a more natural feel.  The dominant vegetation surrounding the 19th century headstones away from the trees is very tall grass, (very wet up to mid-thigh in some areas after rainfall – beware!).  The tall grass appears to do little harm to the headstones, although it does inhibit visits to those gravestones, and the build up of foliage at the bases eventually creates topsoil that covers up inscriptions at the bases, particularly in the case of pedestals at the bottom of crosses, obelisks and similar statues, where text may be confined to the base of the monument.

Carved ivy tendrils wrap around a rustic cross as real ivy on the ground just begins to encroach on the pedestal.

Under trees and in shaded areas invasive ivy does real damage, fastening itself to the stone, hiding inscriptions and, when removed, removes the friable surfaces of the stone. Ivy is very difficult to eradicate from an area once it establishes a network of roots, from which it sends out runners that in turn root themselves.  It is resistant to just about every form of weed killer, even if that were desirable in a graveyard that strives to encourage a natural environment.  One or two of the gravestones are carved with images of ivy spreading across their surfaces, which seems like an ironic acknowledgement of the inevitable blending of nature with death.  The only way of dealing with it is to keep cutting it back when it it begins to climb the grave stones – a thankless and endless task!

What appears to be one or more chest tombs, completely overrun and concealed by ivy.

A grave dedicated to Arthur Henry Leslie Soames M.C. and Légion d’Honneur, which had been partially hidden by ivy and other weeds, was uncovered in May 2018 by local historian Jimmy Jones, with the permission of the church.  His account, and the before-and-after photographs used to be on the now defunct Wrexham-History website, and described how the central grave monument and a horizontal slab to one side were visible, but once the full monument was uncovered, a second slab on the opposite side was revealed, indicating that this was a family plot.  This contributes to the biography of Arthur Soames, who died testing an experimental bomb for the army in 1915.

Moss is similarly invasive and destructive where conditions favour its growth and spread, and there are examples at All Saints’ where inscriptions on ledgers have been colonized and concealed.

Ledgers encroached on by moss as well as grass and lichen

Lichen is another natural invader of stone grave monuments, and is very difficult, if not impossible to tackle.  Different types of lichen prefer different environmental conditions, so can be very widespread in a cemetery, even in the most cared-for sections.  Where lichen spreads across inscriptions, it can obscure them completely, and it can eat away the friable surfaces grain by grain over the period of many decades, meaning that inscription, motifs and decorative features may be damaged, obscured or lost.  It can also add to the more abrupt problem of certain types of sandstone de-laminating, which can eliminate big sections of text very suddenly.

 

Fairly minor lichen damage to a gravestone, dating to 1807.  It has not completely obscured the inscription just yet, although the centre epitaph is illegible. but will probably become worse as time passes

An example of damage inflicted on an inscription by a combination of weathering and lichen, making much of the the text, including the date, illegible.

Lead lettering from 1882, some of which have parted company from the headstone leaving empty peg marks

A small number of the 19th century tombs were provided with lead lettering, hammered into peg holes in the stone.  Some of the lettering has been lost from these grave stones, leaving behind some whole letters, some partial letters and some of the peg holes.  Again, this is natural wear and tear over the centuries and in some ways it seems surprising that any of these lead inserts have actually managed to survive at all.

Some of the stonework of chest and table tombs has been damaged, with panels falling away and ledgers tipping to the side, but this is the usual wear and tear as trees grow and roots find new paths, and storms impose injuries.

Final Comments: The living, the dead and eternity

Although there is some uniformity in the appearance of the churchyard, with certain forms, motifs and shapes being repeated, when you stand in the middle of it all, with the wet grass up to your knees, the great sweep of gravestones and monuments spreading to the limits of the churchyard provides a great sense of individual character and personal commitment.  Each monument contains a fragmentary sense of how precious life could be.  The inscriptions, whilst often fairly formulaic, also represent choices and decisions about what what best represented the interests of the deceased, the living and how this connected to belief in an afterlife.  Churchyards are often places of sadness, but for a great many they also represented ideas of hope.

The grave marker links the living, the dead and Christian belief in a relationship that, particularly when the text survives, may still be engaged with.  Whoever made the decisions about the design of the grave marker, what stands out is how these inanimate objects, the material commemoration of the dead, reflect a wide range of understated emotional ideas a including love, commitment, devotion, fear, anxiety, grief and hope. Collectively they convey both the sadness that the living confront in death and the comfort they find in commemorating their lost loved ones.  People find solace where they can.

If you want to find out more about the owner of a particular grave, the findagrave.com website is a terrific resource.

A ledger and inscription dating to 1796, describing the pain that the deceased suffered.

Sources:

Frisby, Helen 2019. Traditions of Death and Burial. Shire Library

Hayman, Richard 2019.  Churches and Churchyards of England and Wales.  Shire Library.

Heritage, Celia 2022. Cemeteries and Graveyards. A Guide for Family and Local Hstorians in England and Wales. Pen and Sword

Post, W. Ellwood 1962, 1974. A Concise Dictionary: Saints, Signs and Symbols. SPCK

Yorke, Trevor 2017 (2nd edition). Gravestones, Tombs and Memorials.  Countryside Books

Websites:

Cemetery Symbolism
https://cemeterysymbolism.wordpress.com/

Interesting example of a chest tomb that has suffered de-lamination but where the carving of the inscription was so deep that even where it has de-laminated, some of it can still be read.  The ivy is beginning to gain a foothold.