Category Archives: History

An visit to the working Stretton Water Mill

The Grade 2 listed Stretton Water Mill is recorded from the 14th century, and was in almost continuous use until 1959.  It was restored by Cheshire Council in 1975 and became a museum in 1977.  It is located not far from Farndon and Holt, in Cheshire, very near to the villages of Stretton and Tilston.  Today it is a museum, with working water wheel, gears and related machinery, looking like an enormous clockwork toy, but powered wholly by water.  The mill still produces flour, but this cannot be purchased because the methods used, which are entirely authentic, contravene modern health and safety regulations.  However, flour from Walk Mill, near Chester, is sold in the shop.

This tiny vernacular cottage-type building, part red sandstone, part weather-board, is approached down a single track road (lots of passing places) and sits in an attractive rural setting.  It lies to the east of the well-manicured village of Stretton and its rural environs.

As well as the mill building, the two water wheels and the mill machinery, there is a big millpond, a picnic area, a car park (in a small field), and access via both external steps and disabled-friendly slopes between the two floors.  There is more visitor information at the end of this post.  

Stretton Mill is is a splendid remnant of rural architecture and at the same time tells a story about the industrial importance of water power in the lives of rural areas from the Middle Ages into the 20th Century, working around the clock during the Second World War.

—–
Getting your bearings: The waterworks

If you find that the tour is already in progress when you arrive (the tour is obligatory due to health and safety considerations) it would be a good use of the waiting time to get your bearings.  If you go straight into the tour, don’t forget to have a look around afterwards.  Simply walk up the short footpath from the car park towards the first storey of the mill, and look at the large, motionless expanse of water behind the building.  This is the millpond, which is fed by the Carden brook.  The brook is out of sight, but can be seen running under the road just a little further up the road towards Carden from the mill.

Sluice from the millpond into the by-wash

The job of the millpond is to feed the two water wheels.  The mill pond’s level can be controlled by a sluice into a wide by-wash,which drains the water into a tail-race or escape channel that eventually meets up with the main stream.  On the other side of the mill is a short flight of steps leading up to the other side of the mill, with some picnic tables.  Sluice equipment also controls the volume of water reaching the wheels from the millpond by raising or lowering the paddles (rectangular pieces of wood that can be dropped to stop water flow or raised to allow it).  When the wheels are out of use, for example when the mill is closed to visitors or to permit repairs to be carried out, the paddles can be dropped to stop the water entirely.

A typical watercourse layout. Source: Traditional Corn Milling Windmills by Nigel S. Harris, drawings by John Brandrick, fig. 12, p.9

 

A Short History of British Milling

Grinding grain

Roman water wheel replica in the grounds of the Museum of London (at its Barbican location). Source:  Geograph, by Martin Addison CC BY-SA 2-0

Harvested grains of wheat and barley are rock solid on the outside, and there is very little that one could imagine doing with them for nutritional purposes, except perhaps soaking and fermenting them.  The prehistoric solution, and one that was followed by subsequent millers, was to break them up and reduce them to powder by grinding them between stones, by hand.  By the Roman period, water wheels had been invented, and in the Medieval period, when Stretton Mill was built, these had been turned into both an industry and an art form, using vast carved stone wheels driven by water and a series of gears in an end to end process that introduced grain at one end and produced flour at the other.

Medieval mills

The mill at Stretton dates at least to 1350.  Water-powered mills were the dominant industrial mechanism during the Middle Ages, and were widespread, rescuing householders from the time-consuming, back-breaking and tedious task of grinding corn by hand.

A mill with an overshot wheel like the one at Stretton, and mill race.  Further up the stream there are eel traps, shown in the 14th century Luttrell Psalter (Add MS 42130, British Library).  Source: Wikipedia

The millstones in a watermill, one set over the top of the other, were coarse.  They were carefully and skilfully carved with a set of precise grooves called furrows that helped not only to grind the grain but to move it from the centre of the millstone to the exterior.  The coarse stone cracks open the seed grains to allow the release of the kernel, and the grooves allow it to escape down a chute to be collected in bags below. 

Millstones were sourced both from within Britain and beyond, with imports of millstones made from particularly desirable stone areas overseas recorded at ports around the coast.  The cost of the millstone itself could be considerable, and the additional expenses of transportation and fitting meant that these were high value items that were carefully maintained.   

Millstones, laid in pairs, one over the top of the other, contain a complex series of grooves, called furrows, that grind the grain and move it towards the edge.  This is one of a former pair on display at Stretton.

Some mills with twin wheels would operate different milling activities simultaneously, such as corn processing and wool processing (known as fulling).  A mill was built by the lord of the manor (the term manor referring to the estate rather than just the house), who charged tolls called soke rights for its use.  Initially this was in form of a share of the corn and later was on a cash basis. Corn mills were used for reducing grains into products suitable for human and livestock consumption.  The term “corn,” which is generally used in conjunction with mills, refers not to the New World corn but was used as a generic term for wheat, barley, oats and rye.  The soke rights paid for the initial capital outlay and maintenance costs, and provided an income for the manor.  The use of the mill by manor tenants was not optional.  Manual milling at home was banned and anyone owning private milling equipment could be fined.  It is estimated that estates could extract as much as 5% of the estate’s total income from watermills.

Run-off channel (tail race) from the overshot wheel

In the mid 14th century after a period of severe famine, the Black Death arrived and obliterated around 25% of the population.  Once recovery was underway with a much smaller population, there was competition for labour and a rise of wages.  Instead of operating mills themselves, lords of manors often leased out their mills to private tenants such as the minor gentry, merchants and specialist millers and craftsmen who found themselves in a world of expanding opportunity.   At the same time, the abrupt decline in population meant that many other mills were abandoned, and fell into disrepair before either being revived at a later date or being allowed to decay.  In the case of Stretton it is not known precisely what happened, but subsequent records indicate that enough of the local population survived to either maintain or restore that the mill after the traumas of the 14th century.  Indeed, the use of the mill to save on manual flour processing during a population crisis would probably have assisted economic recovery.
———

Stretton Mill

The Medieval and Early Tudor Mill

Carden Brook, which supplies the water for the millpond and waterwheels

From 1281 the manor (estate) of Stretton was owned by the Warren family, who held it until the 15th century. The mill at Stretton dates at least to 1350, when it is first recorded in a transfer deed, meaning that it was built before this date.  Given that the Black Death was sweeping through Britain in 1348, it was probably built before that date.  It is not known exactly what the mill would have looked like before the 17th century.  The mechanism in the mid 14th century would have been very much the same as the one still working today, with the waterwheel operating via gears to turn the millstones.  There was only one waterwheel until the 18th century, positioned to the left as you face the mill, and this would have been on the outside, and was not incorporated into the interior of the building until the 19th century.

Stretton was dedicated to the processing of grain, mainly barley, oats and rye with some wheat.  Wheat bread was the most expensive, and used only for bread for the better off.  Barley could be used for an inferior bread, oats could be used to make porridge and oat cakes and rye was used bread and beer.   Barley, oats and rye could all be used for animal fodder too.

In the 1500s, Stretton Mill was purchased by the Leche family of Carden Hall.

Stretton Mill 1600-1900

Stretton Mill as it would have looked in the 1600s. Source: Author Uncredited – West Cheshire Museums

The oldest part of the mill dates to 1630.  In the 17th century the building is thought to have been made of a timber framework, filled with wattle and daub.  Wattle and daub is a mixture of thin wooden strips woven like basketry to form into a lattice, which provides a base to which a material can be added to create panels that form the walls of the building between the timber frames.  The mill was almost certainly thatched, the materials for which were easy to source in a rural agricultural location.  The fixtures that attached the wattle and daub to the frame can still be seen at the mill, and an example was pointed out on the guided tour. The windows, vital not only for visibility but to allow the flour-filled air to clear, would have been provided with shutters.  The water wheel was known as a breast-shot, and was located on the east end of the mill, to the left as you face it from the road.

The main types of waterwheel. Source: Guide to Ford End Watermill

There are four main categories of water wheel, the undershot, pitchback, overshot, and breast-shot. The main difference between them is how water is fed to the wheel, how the wheel uses this water to turn, and what sort of power this delivers to the machinery.  Each has benefits depending on a number of factors.  The overshot wheel is fed from an overhead channel, requiring a water source that is at least as high as the top of the wheel, runs counter clockwise and is the most efficient when plenty of water is available.  It is also an  expensive solution, requiring extensive installation work.  The undershot is powered by a low level water source that works by capturing the water between the wheel and the wheel pit, and is the least efficient.

The breast-shot wheel when it was under repair

The breast-shot design sits between the overshot and undershot, receiving water from a higher level than the undershot but a lower level than an overshot.  The main advantage of the breast-shot over the overshot is that it can use lower levels of water, allowing a mill to continue output even during periods of drought.

The breast-shot wheel at Stretton is unusual in that the sluice controlling access of water to the wheel has three paddles, each of which can be operated to let water into the waterwheel’s buckets at different levels.  This makes it very flexible when the water level of the millpond changes.

The water for the breast-shot wheel vanishes under the east wall of the building’s extension, into the wheel-housing, shown to the right.  Look out for this feature when you are outside at the level of the millpond’s surface.

The oldest local extant contemporary buildings in the area are Stretton Lower Hall, which was built in 1660 on a site that had been apparently been moated, and Stretton Old Hall, built in the 17th century and extended in the 19th century. 

By the 18th century, Stretton was one of a great many watermills and several windmills dotted throughout Cheshire and the Wirral.  As the map below shows, water power dominated in Cheshire whereas on the Wirral wind power was source of power for milling.  As the Industrial Revolution began to gain momentum, mechanization, mainly dependent on a water source, spread rapidly.

Map of water mills and wind mills in the 1770s. Source: Phillips and Phillips 2002, p.67

At Stretton there is an inscription commemorating major structural changes to the mill in 1770.  Improvements included a sandstone base, topped with weatherboard and finished off with a slate roof, still with a new overshot wheel added to the west end, together with a window overlooking it, on the right as you face the mill.  The breast-shot wheel at the east end was still on the outside.

Stretton Mill in 1770. Source: Author Uncredited – West Cheshire Museums

The addition of the overshot wheel was an important one.  The breast-shot wheel has been explained above.  The overshot wheel, which delivered water directly to the top of the wheel via a trough, was far more efficient when the millpond was full.  There is considerable drop from the millpond to the trough in which the overshot wheel sits.  This drop is known as the head.  The higher the head, the more powerful the potential of the waterwheel.

The water is taken away from the mill after passing through the wheels. Each has a tailrace that takes the spent water under the road, and if you cross the road you can see it leaving via small natural-looking channels that wend through the fields to re-join the Carden Brook.

The overshot wheel

The combination of the two wheels gave the mill the ability to function at maximum efficiency when rainfall provided a healthy supply of water, allowing both wheels to be operated, with the overshot wheel being particularly productive.  At the same time, when drought lowered the level of the millpond, putting the overshot wheel out of action, the breast-shot would still be viable.  The combination of two wheels was a very good risk-management strategy.

Contemporary with the mill at this period is Stretton Hall, brick-built in 1763 for John Leche (1704 – 1765) of Carden.  There were actually nineteen men at the head of the Leche family named John, and this was the fourteenth of them.

In the early 19th century the building was extended to the east to incorporate the breast-shot wheel, which could be inspected from the small arched window shown in the illustration below, and which survives today.

Stretton Mill in 1819. Source: Author Uncredited – West Cheshire Museums

The extension was built of red sandstone, but the weather-board was retained on the older section of the mill.  This is very like the mill building that survives today, albeit with less  red sandstone and more weatherboard than today’s building.  As well as the original wooden shutters, glass was probably fitted into the windows at this time.

The 1940s

The watermill was in 24 hour use during the Second World War, milling grains for both bread and animal feeds. It was in continuous use until 1959, when its last miller died, and it fell into disrepair.

The modern era

Millstone leaning against a wall in the stone room of Stretton Mill

The mill was acquired in 1975 by Cheshire County Council and was renovated in 1977 and given Grade 1 listing.  Stretton Mill as it stands today is part red sandstone, part weatherboard, and has a brick-built extension.  The fact that it incorporates earlier features of the mill building is a particularly attractive aspect of the mill that helps its history to be recreated, and apart from repairs it has changed very little since the 19th Century.  It is still fully functional, and produces flour which, unfortunately, does not conform to modern health and safety standards so cannot be purchased from the shop.
—–

What you see today

The exterior

Much of what can be seen of the building’s exterior today has been described above, but there are two notable exceptions.  One is the red sandstone-built chimney at far right, which connects to the hearth on the ground floor of the mill.  The hearth is a particular mystery given the risk of fire in an environment in which dry goods were being milled and could fill the atmosphere with combustible material.  The other is the brick-built extension in the middle of the three photographs above. The dates of both are unknown.  The use of brick does indicate a date after the mid 1700s, but is likely to be much later.

The water wheels

You can see both the overshot wheel on the outside, at the west end, and the breastshot wheel on the inside at the opposite end.  Of the two water wheels, only the overshot water wheel was working in late summer 2022, and was doing a great job.  The other was under repair but in June 2023, when I drove past, was not operating although the mill was open at the time, although the overshot wheel was trundling away.

The machinery

Stretton’s purpose was to grind grain.  The internal gearing translated the power of the big water wheel, via a series of interconnected wheels to turn the millstones.

The ground floor (meal floor)

If you look at the wall opposite the doorway, you will see that it is damp.  This is because the millpond is on the other side, and in the ground floor room you are well below the surface of the pond, as you can see when you walk up to the first floor level.

Spurwheel drive for two pairs of millstones. The vertically mounted pitwheel is connected to the waterwheel outside, and translates the power of the waterwheel to the smaller horizontal wallower above, and the large horizontal spurwheel above that.

The ground floor contains the drive machinery for both wheels, and on the tour the machinery for the overshot wheel is clearly visible.  When you enter the ground floor, you can see how the water wheels connect to the rest of the machinery that drives the mill via a series of toothed wheels, which interlock with one another to send power to the millstones above.  The Stretton arrangement is known as an underdriven spurwheel arrangement, where the water wheel links to a much smaller vertical pitwheel wheel that is fitted on the same axis and turns at the same rate.  This has teeth that interlock with a small horizontal wallower wheel, above which is the spur wheel, all of which can be seen in the above photograph.

This is also the room into which the processed grain falls from the stone room, so it both begins the process and ends it.

The top (bin room) and middle (stone room) floors

We were able to visit two floors, but originally three floors were in use, which is the usual arrangement for a watermill.  The top floor, the bin floor, is inaccessible to visitors, located in the eaves of the roof, and reached by a stepladder.  This is where grain was stored before being tipped into a grain bin that released the grain into a chute that entered the hoppers of the stone room below.

Source: Medieval Technology and American History

The stone floor, which is at the level of the mill pond surface houses the machinery and devices for funnelling grain.  It feels rather like being inside an enormous clockwork toy, with interlocking cogs and gears controlling the turning of the millstones and the grinding of grain, as well as the lowering and raising of the top millstone (the runner) and the raising and lowering of sacks.  With hindsight it seems extraordinary that so much equipment could be fitted into such a small space.

The meal floor gearing enters the stone floor and interlocks with two pinions called stone nuts, which turn the millstones.  There are two pairs of millstones at Stretton, each pair driven by its own wheel. The stones are contained within wooden containers called tuns.  There is a small gap between the upper millstone, the runner, millstone and the lower millstone, bedstone.  This gap is called the nip.  The nip was adjusted by the miller in response to the type of grain being processed and the fineness required.  According to the West Cheshire Museums Booklet about the mill, the breas-tshot stones are currently French burr stone from the Paris Basin and the overshot stones are millstone grit from the Peak District.

The millstones are contained within the octagonal tun. Above it, the square-mouthed hopper sits on a frame and feeds grain into the millstones

The grain falls from the bin floor, into a large wooden funnel on the stone floor called a hopper, which sits on a horizontal wooden frame called a horse.  It is funnelled down a chute called a meal ark into the millstones where it is ground before being forced down the to the edge of the millstones where it is funnelled down a meal spout into a meal bin or ark on the meal floor.

Visiting details

It is a short drive from Farndon and is shown on brown heritage signs from the main roads in the vicinity.  If you are relying on the brown signs, look out for them carefully, as some of those closest to the mill are often partly concealed behind foliage.  The postcode for satnav systems is SY14 7JA.  The road to the mill, from either direction, is single track but has plenty of passing places.

Do check out the opening times on the Chester and Cheshire West web page for Stretton Mill before visiting because the mill is only open in afternoons and only on certain days of the week.   There is a small entrance fee, £3.70 at the time of writing.  Please note that it is cash-only.  Here’s the web address:
https://strettonwatermill.westcheshiremuseums.co.uk/visit-us/

The by-wash

The site is partially suitable for those with mobility issues.  There is a footpath that winds very gently up the slope that leads to the upper level of the mill, avoiding stairs, but this would probably be a struggle for wheelchair users during or after wet weather.  There are seats at all key points for those who are mobile but need to rest legs.

Because of very valid health and safety issues, you will need to be accompanied around the interior of the building on a guided tour (see below).  You can walk around the exterior without a chaperon, and there is step-free access, as well as some nicely located picnic areas for those who wish to linger and enjoy the view over the mill pond.  It is a really lovely location.  There is a gift shop, selling postcards, books, posters, and flour (milled at Walk Mill, not far from Chester because Stretton Mill is not a commercial milling enterprise and falls below rigorous modern health and safety standards).

Walking further along the road in the opposite direction from Stretton village, approaching Carden, the rural scene gives way to golf, as you find yourself around the back of the Carden Park Hotel and its immense golf course, which spans both sides of the road.


The guided tour

Steplader leading to the top, bin floor

The guide on the day provided us with a creative version of the birth of agriculture in the Near East.  If you want to prime yourself beforehand with the basics of the spread of agriculture from the Near East through Europe to and throughout Britain see the Britannica’s Origins of Agriculture web pages, if you can put up with the adverts.

At the end of this talk our guide gave us some hard wheat grains to hold and examine.  The inner kernel is contained within a hard husk that protects it, and the husks demonstrate unambiguously why processing is so necessary.  They are extremely tough.  We were then taken on a fascinating tour of the building, starting with the water wheels. Only the overshot wheel was working when we visited, due to repairs on the breast-shot wheel.  Next, we proceeded to the first floor “stone room” to look at where the milling happens. There is a long curving ramp that enables those who cannot manage steps to reach the top floor.  We then returned downstairs to look at where the external overshot wheel meets the internal gears, and to see where the milled flour was collected.

The tour of the mill equipment was very informative and extremely useful.  Unless you are familiar with how all the pieces fit together, it is helpful to have an explanation of the entire process as it would have happened in real time.

Final Comments

The video below was taken during our first visit in summer 2022.  I drove past in June 2023 and had a look to see if the breast-shot wheel, which had been under repair in 2022, was running again, but it was not.  The overshot wheel, however, is terrific, issuing a rhythmic rumbling noise that it is difficult to describe, but can be heard in the video.

It was an absolute treat to see a working watermill, and this one is a particularly engaging example in a lovely location.

 

 

Sources:

Books, booklets and papers

The by-wash, which can be used to lower the level of the millpond

Author uncredited.  Historical Background to Stretton Watermill and the Milling Process. West Cheshire Museums.

Dyer, C. 2005.  An Age of Transition?  Economy and Society in England in the Later Middle Ages.  Oxford University Press

Harris, N.S. Traditional Corn Milling Watermills, with drawings by John Brandrick. Written and published by Nigel Harris

Phillips, A.D.M. and Phillips, C.B. 2002. A New Historical Atlas of Cheshire. Cheshire County Council and Cheshire Community Council Publications Trust

Singleton, William, A. 1952. The Traditional House-Types in Rural Lancashire and Cheshire, off-print from The Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, Volume 104, p. 75-91.

Watts, M. 2000.  Water and Wind Power.  Shire Publications

Watts, M. 2006. Watermills. Shire Library

Wenham, P. 1989. Watermills. Robert Hale

Websites

British Listed Buildings
Stretton Mill and Steps, Millrace and Sluice Adjoining
https://britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/101279423-stretton-mill-and-steps-millrace-and-sluice-adjoining-stretton

Cheshire Live
The 700-year-old ‘idyllic’ Cheshire watermill that’s like stepping back in time by Angela Ferguson, 12th March 2023
https://www.cheshire-live.co.uk/whats-on/700-year-old-idyllic-cheshire-26422639

Geni
Carden Hall, Cheshire (for details of the Leche family)
https://www.geni.com/projects/Carden-Hall-Cheshire-England/27610

Mills Archive
https://catalogue.millsarchive.org

Stretton Mill at West Cheshire Museums
Stretton Mill – Visits
https://strettonwatermill.westcheshiremuseums.co.uk/visit-us/

Wikipedia
Listed Buildings in Stretton, West Cheshire and Chester
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Listed_buildings_in_Stretton,_Cheshire_West_and_Chester

Part 2: Who was Brymbo Man, what was the Mold Cape and why do they matter?

What do we know about Bryn y Ffynon and Brymbo Man?

The skull of the Brymbo skeleton. Source: detail of a photo from the Wrexham County Borough Museum website.

In Part 1 of this four-part series, two Late Neolithic – Early Bronze Age burial sites were introduced: Bryn y Ffynon (the grave of the so-called Brymbo Man), and Bryn yr Ellyllon (the grave in which the Mold gold cape was found).  A map of their locations was shown, the circumstances of their discovery was described, and the two graves were set in the context of similar sites in northeast Wales.

This post looks more closely at the Bryn y Ffynon, best known as the grave of Brymbo Man, one of the star exhibits in the Wrexham County Borough Museum.  Part 3 looks at Bryn yr Ellyllon, the grave that produced the Mold Cape.  I the fourth and final part, the various strands will be brought together in a conclusion, together with visiting notes.  The bibliography for all four parts can be found at present at the end of part .

Contents of Part 2:

  • The grave
  • The grave goods
  • The skeleton
  • Funerary rituals
  • Dating
  • What did Brymbo Man look like?
  • Who was Brymbo Man? Was he important?
  • How did he make a living?
  • Final comments on Part 2
  • (Sources are listed at the end of Part 1)


The grave

Brymbo Man was buried in a stone-built grave called Bryn y Ffynon (Well on the Hill)  on the north side of Ruabon Mountain, now the site of a housing estate in Brymbo to the northwest of Wrexham.  No burial mound, either of earth or stone, has survived, and it is not known if there ever was one.  In the northeast of England there were cemeteries of flat graves, so a burial mound might not have been essential everywhere, but in northeast Wales mounds of earth (barrows) or stone (cairns) were usual, even though not all of them remain.  Some mounds were built in complex layers using different materials, and importantly could contain secondary burials, usually cremation burials, that were added to the mound, sometimes involving the extension of the mound. The loss of a burial mound often equates to the loss of valuable data.  Stone cairns in particular were often robbed for their stone for much later building material, sometimes leaving a hidden cist unsuspected beneath the surface.  Given the upland location of the site, if the grave was covered, it probably lay under a cairn.

The cist (burial chamber) itself was made of roughly hewn slabs of local stone lining the walls and floor of the grave, and measured 96 x 79cm (38 x 31 inches).  The cist was aligned north-south.  A very large and uneven slab of stone, called a capstone, was placed over the top of the cist, sealing the burial before any burial mound was built over the top, itself measuring 5ft 6ins (167cm)  long, 3ft 3ins wide (c.1m) and 9ins (23cm) thick.

The Grave Goods

There were only two items found in the grave with Brymbo Man, which are on display with the skeleton.  One is a ceramic vessel known as a Beaker and the other is a flint tool.  This is fairly typical of Early Bronze Age graves.  Without access to the excavation report (unpublished) one assumes that the relationship between the objects and the skeleton in the cist was recorded, and that this is what has been reproduced by the museum, with a flint knife placed not far behind the skull and the Beaker placed towards at the base of what remains of the skeleton.

The Beaker

On the left: The Bryn y Ffynnon Beaker. Source:  Rebecca Van Der Putt (with congratulations, because I couldn’t get any sort of angle on it). Source: The Modern AntiquarianOn the right:  Savory’s photograph of the Bryn y Ffynnon Beaker.  Source: Savory, H. N. 1959.

Brymbo Man was accompanied in his grave by a very distinctive ceramic form known as a “Beaker,” more precisely a short-necked Beaker.  The Beaker tradition was an import from Europe, marking one of the changes in the centuries at the end of the Neolithic and beginning of the Early Bronze Age.  Where a Beaker is buried with the individual, it may be accompanied by a variety of other goods, but is often the only object found.  This suggests that the beaker itself was pivotal in establishing the identity and purpose of the grave and its owner.  Skeletons in Beaker graves were flexed / crouched, (with their knees bent and their legs pulled up to their chests).

The process by which Beaker burial traditions arrived in Britain is still poorly understood.  Options are that the tradition was imported by visitors or immigrants; or that it was brought back from the continent by British (using the term loosely) travellers who found certain affinities with the funerary practises that they observed.  The idea of foreign people being buried with the new Beaker style burial is given some credence by beaker burials from the Stonehenge region, and in particular the Amesbury Archer, who was buried with a range of goods traditionally associated with beakers, and was subjected to isotope analysis that indicated his origins were probably in the Alps.  In addition, a multi-disciplinary DNA analysis research project in 2017 proposed that a significant percentage of the indigenous population of Britain was, by the Middle Bronze Age, replaced by those who brought the Beaker tradition with them at the end of the Neolithic:  “the genetic evidence points to a substantial amount of migration into Britain from the European mainland beginning around 2400 BCE.” (Olalde et al).  As is so often the case with this sort of DNA research, as highlighted in the study itself, there are questions remaining about the extent to which it is possible to extrapolate from the data used, including sampling issues (statistical, geographical and relating to the quality of the material).

The Beaker on the left is from Balblair in eastern Scotland, is not dissimilar from the Brymbo Beaker. althoug its neck is shorter, the carination less pronounced and the decorative incisions slightly different. Source: Inverness Museum and Art Gallery

The new burial tradition found favour, whatever it represented.  The new funerary regime could not have spread so far and and wide throughout Britain and Ireland without people in all those regions being complicit.   Whatever the mechanism of transmission, by the end of the Neolithic the continental Beaker and associated objects had become desirable, and were found extensively under round barrows, as well as occasionally in other contexts, in many parts of Britain.

Beakers were hand-made (i.e. not wheel-thrown), built up from a single ball of clay that was hollowed out and shaped before being fired.  There is a video at the end that demonstrates how Beakers may have been assembled and decorated.  A certain amount of skill went into the construction, which is a very specific shape, and the decoration must have taken considerable patience, but what is most remarkable about it is its faithful reproduction of an idea that had spread through Europe and was now perfectly at home in burials of northeast Wales.  The Beaker may have had slightly different ideas associated with it different areas, but it clearly imparted a message either about the deceased, the role or status enacted by the deceased in life, the status conferred upon the deceased after death, the place where the burial was made, as well as ideas and ideologies inherited with the Beaker tradition.

The flint knife

On the left. The plano-convex stone tool found in Bryn y Ffynnon, illustrated in Savory 1959. On the right, a photograph of the same, although note that the photograph appears to have been accidentally inverted (i.e. it is the wrong way round, which sometimes happens when photos are digitized). Source: Wrexham County Borough Museum

A flint tool was found in the grave.  It is plano-convex (flat on one side and curved on the other).  Flint was the preferred stone for tool manufacture in Britain.  In Cheshire, and less frequently in northeast Wales, it could be found locally in river beds and on beaches as pebbles, which are useful for making small tools, but for more ambitious pieces it would be imported from areas where flint was part of the geological fabric.  The reason for its popularity is the way in which it responds when it is struck in order to shape it into a tool.  The term for it is conchoidal fracturing, which means that the shock-wave of its fracture creates a slightly concave “bulb of percussion” from which concentric lines that ripple out from the point of impact.  The waste products left over from tool manufactured, undifferentiated flakes, are usually referred to as “debitage.”  Some of these could be further worked into other smaller tools, but others might be abandoned and are useful datasets about tool manufacture in their own right. Some tools are very distinctively shaped, like barbed and tanged arrowheads, but others are far more generic, like the one accompanying Brymbo Man.  Stone tools were often hafted in wood to make, for example, arrows, spears and axes.

Terminology used to described features of worked prehistoric tools. Source: Martingell 2001, p.10

Small plano-convex tools were common in the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age, particularly from the northeast, and often towards the end of the period.  When the edges are worked to form a sharp edge, they are usually termed knives, but many, including this one, were probably multi-purpose tools.  A particular industry referred to as “plano-convex” tools, formerly “slug knives,” is characterized by tools made with specialized pressure-flaking over one face of the tool, which have a very distinctive appearance and are particularly associated with the northeast and food vessels.  Nothing special went into the manufacture of this item, which is a very everyday piece, and although it is technically plano-convex, it is not characteristic of the more elaborate objects that are usually associated with the term.  I cannot find an image of the reverse side of the flint, but it looks more like a flake (a piece struck from a core piece of flint without much additional work) than a properly manufactured and shaped tool.

The Skeleton

Skeleton of “Brymbo Man” in the Bryn y Ffynnon cist. Source: Wrexham County Borough Museum

The skeleton as it survives today is incomplete, as shown in the photograph on the left.  Even with only a partial skeleton to study it could be determined that the deceased was a male who, at the time of his death, was 5ft 8ins/173cm tall, and was strong and powerful, indicated both by the shape of his skull and by the muscle attachments to both his skull and his leg bones.

Brymbo Man is thought to have been 35 years of age at the time of his death. There are different estimates of life expectancy for this period, but it is probable that 35-40 was a good age.  His age was determined both by the degree to which the bones in his skull had fused and by the wear of his teeth.  He had once suffered a wound above hairline on his forehead, thought to have been caused by an arrowhead, but this had healed and was not the cause of his death.  No cause of death was identified.  He could, for example, have died from an injury that left no traces on what remains of his skeleton, or from illness or disease.

Illustration to help explain strontium isotope analysis. Source, and helpful article: PBS Time Team America

Isotope analysis has not been carried out on the Brymbo skeleton.  Isotopic ratio analysis has become very popular for an increasingly popular for the study of past human and livestock migrations.  The technique was used, for example, on the tooth enamel of a skeleton found near Stonehenge, known as the Amesbury Archer, and indicates that this person spent his childhood in the Alps.  It has also been used by the Beaker People Project, which has concluded that dsfsadfsd.  It also be used on livestock remains, helping to show patterns of mobility such as transhumance.  Like radiocarbon dating, isotopic analysis requires a sample of human material, which is destroyed in the process, and so far Wrexham County Borough Museum has decided not to subject the Brymbo remains to avoid harming the remaining bones.  The choice between preservation and knowledge is a difficult one to make.

Funerary Rituals

Rituals for the dead can be important for ensuring that  the living transition successfully into an afterlife, but they may also be important for the living, allowing communities to come to terms with the loss of a community member, to create ancestral links with a particular landscape, and to formalize any exchange of role from the dead person to a living replacement.  These ideas are familiar from the rituals that we engage in today when we attend a funeral.  In prehistory, it is likely that there were other reasons and meanings embedded into the ritual activities accompanying the deposition of the dead.  There was certainly an internal logic to the burials contained within the stone chambers during this period, and the Brymbo burial shares many of these features.

The presence of the Beaker puts it within a burial tradition that is quite distinctive.  The dead were buried by themselves, usually under a barrow or cairn, in a small chamber (cist) with a Beaker vessel and sometimes other objects.  This European tradition was adopted slowly throughout Britain, and Beakers were adapted by local people to conform to their own traditions.  There are numerous variants.  Quite what this tradition meant to living communities is unknown.  It may have indicated some sort of specific role in society for the deceased, and it may even indicate, in this case, that the the deceased was either involved in networks of communication and exchange with other areas, or was not native to the northeast Wales or border area.

Savory’s 1959 illustration of the cist and capstone in the excavation report, showing the objects and skeletal remains in situ.

The skull was laid on its side, with the head to the north, facing east and, if the museum display reflects how the skeleton was found, the rest of the bones were apparently laid to give the impression of a crouched burial.  Although there are exceptions, males were usually laid with their heads facing east, females with their heads facing west.

Only 13% of the Bryn y Ffynnon skeleton was interred in the grave.  This is not an accident of survival of decay, but a deliberate decision by those who buried the remains.  This is not unusual.  Analysis of the skeletal remains by osteology specialist Corinne Duhig found that  some of the bones bore cut marks that had been made by a sharp tool, which may indicate de-fleshing the bones.  The disarticulation  of the skeleton, the missing bones, and and the signs of defleshing imply that between death and interment multiple activities took place.  None of this was by any means unusual in the period, or indeed from the preceding Early Neolithic.   One explanation for this type of activity is that the person died some distance from home and that the body was prepared somewhere else for travel prior to burial;  another is that the practices were part of a set of rituals that marked the transition from life to death, possibly including a transition to an afterlife.  It is also entirely possible that the body may have been laid to rest elsewhere and moved here at a later date.

Splitting of bodies between multiple places is not as strange as it sounds and has parallels, for example, in Medieval Britain. For example, when Earl Ranulf III of Chester (1170-1232) died away from home, his body was eviscerated (internal organs removed) so that it could buried in three locations.  His entrails were buried where he died in Wallingford, his heart was buried at Dieulacrès Abbey in the Midlands and his embalmed body was then returned to Chester for burial in St Werburgh’s Abbey. This was completely consistent with the traditions of the period.

The pre-interment activity at Brymbo does beg the question of how close the association between the dead person and the objects in the grave actually was.  If there was a considerable period between death and interment, it may be that the objects had more to do with the living than the dead, and that they were simply conventional contributions in which ideas were embodied in the artefacts about the site itself, rather than statements about the deceased.

Dating

Chronology of ceramics in Britain, Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age. I have indicated the Beaker type most similar to the one in the Brymbo grave. Source: Parker-Pearson et al 2016

The skeleton has not been subjected to radiocarbon dating, but is thought to date to around 1900BC on the basis of artefacts that accompany the burial.  Relative dating of this sort is achieved by comparing the objects in graves with similar graves that have been subjected to radiocarbon dating.  Radiocarbon dating is a scientific method, known as absolute dating, that measures the amount of atmospheric carbon-14 remaining within organic materials such as bone or wood to obtain a date.  A brief but useful explanation can be found Oxford Radiocarbon Accelerator Unit website.  A sample of organic matter (such as skeletal or plant material) is required for the dating procedure, and this sample is destroyed in the process of obtaining a date.  Recent improvements in the technique need much smaller samples, but some curators are reluctant for even small samples to be destroyed.  Signage at the Wrexham County Borough Museum explains that the museum has decided, at the time of writing, not to have the Brymbo Man scientifically dated.  Instead, the relative (inferred) date given above has been based mainly on the Beaker.  Beakers have been studied extensively.  They appear from 2500BC, and there are multiple different styles, some of which can be charted over time.  The Brymbo Beaker, placed at around the 1900BC mark, is well into the Early Bronze Age and on the edge of the period when this style of pottery was going out of fashion.

What did Brymbo Man look like?

The Brymbo skull was used by facial reconstruction expert Dr Caroline Wilkinson at the Unit of Art in Medicine at Manchester University, to create an estimate of Brymbo Man’s appearance.   Although the skull is incomplete, what remained was enough for Dr Wilkinson to use.  The skull itself was fragile, but robust enough for a cast to be made.  The position and size of the muscle attachments helped to build a sense of the musculature in the face which, along with bone structure and overall body weight, help to determine the shape of the face.  The shape and size of all apertures in the face, such as eyes, mouth and nose, and the spatial relationship between them, also contribute to how a face would have looked.  Once the underlying structure of the face had been determined, the skin, represented by clay, was added.  There are some things that are not determined by the underlying structure, like lips and ears.  Once the model head was completed, a make-up artist was responsible for hair and the colour of eyes, complexion and hair.  This is not a definitive representation, but it is based on the available data, and it gives an excellent sense that the skeleton was once a living man.

Who was Brymbo Man?  Was he important?

Given that 1000s of people during the Bronze Age were not buried (the landscape would have been stuffed full of mounds if they had), we know that a selection process had been implemented, and this selection process put Brymbo Man in this grave.  Unfortunately we do not know the selection criteria for those who were deposited in graves.

One might wonder if he was the leader of his community, but he might equally be an elder respected for his experience and knowledge, a ritual specialist responsible for the religious well-being of the community, or a wealthy trader who conferred status on the group without necessarily having a position of hierarchical power.  Perhaps it was not his place in society that marked him out, but an action or event in which he took part.  Or was his death itself significant in some way?  Perhaps he was the first person to die after the establishment of a claim over a new territory.  Equally he might be a person or an idea regarded by the community for reasons that we might never imagine, because we can never know how people were categorized or how they related to the ideas of the community and the broader social conventions to which they were connected.

The capstone that sealed the stone grave, 5ft 6ins (167cm)  long, 3ft 3ins wide (c.1m) and 9ins (23cm) thick.

Whatever he represented, whether as a valued family member, an important representative of the community, or a symbol of something rather less conceivable, the burial itself was clearly important.  Assembling the grave was no light-hearted exercise.  Even without a barrow, cutting the stone for the the stone-lined cist, which would then have to be assembled, would have been a significant activity.  Even more impressive, the quarrying of the stone for the capstone and moving the capstone into position would have required many hands, probably some lifting technology, and a great deal of incentive and determination.

We know that Brymbo Man had sustained an injury to his skull, which he survived.  The nature of the injury suggests that it might have been made by an arrow, which could have been received in a hunting accident, or in conflict.  There are numerous reasons why people might resort to violence, including livestock raiding, disputes over territory as well as personal grievances, but there is no matching data from other burials in the area, such as evidence of similar injuries, to indicate wider scale disputes.  Although his injuries could have been connected to his role or status, and might have been a criterion by which he was selected for a round barrow burial, we simply have no way of knowing whether or not this was the case.

This photo shows a cairn that is better preserved than many located in exposed positions. Cefn y Gader 1 near Llangollen. Source: Megalithic Portal, photograph by “Postman”

Beyond speculation there is little information that the presence of a burial with a single Beaker and a single stone tool can divulge about who the deceased may have been in life.  It is not even clear whether he was important in his own right or whether his burial represented a set of ideas and traditions, quite unlike our own, that led to his burial in this location.  As things stand, we cannot form an opinion about whether he was any more important to his contemporaries than the event that placed him in the grave.  What can be stated with some confidence is that the grave itself, and the dome of earth or stone that probably encased it, were significant to the people who built it, standing proud on a landscape that was inhabited by people, and to whom it would have communicated messages that we can no longer read.

What do we know about how Brymbo Man made a living?

We know something about Brymbo man’s vital statistics, and how he was treated after death, but so far we have not had the opportunity to look at how he may have lived his life.  In Britain, Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age resources potentially included cereal (wheat and barley) and legume crops, as well as livestock, primarily cattle and sheep.  In the earlier Neolithic period, after an initial burst of agrarian activity, livestock herding became dominant over cereal cultivation, possibly because of teething problems with the establishment of cereal farming in new territories by inexperienced farmers.  Cattle herding increased, and soon sheep also contributed to the subsistence mix, with dairy products rising in importance.  Before the end of the Early Bronze Age, cereal farming resumed on floodplains and other suitable land.  Although different areas had access to different types of land and both wild and domesticated resources, there is no reason to doubt that the inhabitants of northeast Wales could obtain access to subsistence assets when they required them, choosing the best combination of crops and livestock for the conditions in which they lived.  Hunting wild game probably supplemented the diet.

How much of this applies to the Brymbo area?  We know that the grave was on a hillside above the River Alyn.  The hillside is used used for sheep farming.  Given that Brymbo Man was buried in this location, it can be assumed that he lived and worked here for at least a portion of the year, but whether this was a settled or mobile life is unknown.

Topographic map of Brymbo. The meandering blue shows the Alyn valley. Click to show the bigger image.  Source: topographic-map.com

The point was made above that Brymbo Man was a sturdy individual with no obvious health defects, that 35 was a respectable age for the period, and that these observations suggest that he was healthy and probably had a nutritious diet.  We can state with some confidence is that Brymbo Man was once part of a family, and a larger community, made up of farmers and/or herders, as well as stone and pottery workers who exploited the fertile lowlands and highland pastures of northeast Wales, possibly on a transhumant or otherwise seasonal basis. These were the people who buried him.  There would have been many other men, women and children in the area when he was alive and making a living, each with a specific role within the community.  

It is possible that some members of the community split away from the rest on a seasonal basis, following a pattern of taking up livestock onto the hills to take advantage of summer pasture, before returning in the autumn to help with the harvest.  If the burial on the edge of Ruabon Mountain is an indication of an affiliation with this particular part of the landscape, Brymbo Man was probably involved in sheep or cattle herding, and was in easy reach of the Alyn valley for other agrarian activities.  Climatic indicators suggest that the weather was warm and relatively dry, and although lowland areas could be freed up for agriculture by the clearance of often dense woodland before they could be cultivated, upland areas were often used for both cultivation and herding.

Coming back once again to the Beaker, it is as far as one can tell from other excavated sites in the region, something of an unusual object in northeast Wales and the borders.  This one in particular seems to have affinities with other areas and it seems unlikely that it was made locally.  The presence of the copper mine on the Great Orme indicates that there was significant trading activity from there to other parts of Britain, and that the development of complex overland and seagoing trade routes were established had been established by the Early Bronze Age.  It is in not, therefore, far-fetched to suggest that this grave, overlooking the Alyn valley and only a few kilometres from the Dee valley, might have had connections further afield, and that the Beaker may not have been made by native potters, but was an import, either in trade, or in company with Brymbo Man.  This is highly speculative and more data is required.  Perhaps the beaker itself, and analysis of the clay from which it was made, could add additional data. Isotopic analysis of the skeleton might also well help to clarify some of these distance-related questions.  As noted above, however, this would involve inflicting damage on the Brymbo remains.

Final Comments on Part 2

Brymbo Man remains elusive.  One grave on its own, even containing a skeleton and grave goods, provides insufficient data for judging what the grave meant to the people that buried a man there, and covered his burial chamber with a giant capstone and, probably, a barrow or cairn.  Isotope data could probably get us a little further, but only as far as assessing whether this man was likely to have travelled.  All we can say for sure is that he had no obvious signs of ill health, that his physique, height and age suggest that he was well nourished, that he had received an injury apparently inflicted by another human, and that the hilly surroundings of his burial place might imply that he was involved in livestock herding or that this was a route he travelled in the course of another economic activity.

The real value of Brymbo Man, the objects in his grave and his burial mound is as a data source in comparative research to enable the development of a greater understanding of all these burials, the features they shared, and how they were differentiated from one another.  Once sufficient data has been accumulated, probably not until decades from now, it may be possible to return to Brymbo Man, better informed, with more knowledge to hand, to ask some of the above questions again.

Next

Bryn yr Ellyllon, the Early Bronze Age burial cairn that produced the Mold Cape, are discussed in a similar vein in Part 3.

Part 1: Who was Brymbo Man, what was the Mold Cape and why do they matter?

From left to right.  The Mold Cape and strings of amber beads superimposed on a digital sketch, which could be man or woman (Source: British Museum Partnership Programme); Photograph of the Wrexham County Borough Museum hologram of the reconstructed head of Brymbo Man (my photo); The recreated grave and capstone with original skeleton and grave goods of Brymbo Man in the Wrexham County Borough Museum (my photo).

 

Bryn y Ffynon (Brymbo) and Bryn yr Ellyllon (Mold) indicated by yellow markers, shown in relation to Chester and Wrexham. courtesy of Google Earth. Click to enlarge.

This is part 1 of a four-part overview of two Early Bronze Age graves and how they contribute to an understanding of  the archaeology of the period in northeast Wales and the borders. All four parts have been written, and will be released over the next couple of weeks.

The series has been divided up as follows:

Part 1 (this post) – Introduction to the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age in northeast Wales:

  • Introduction
  • Some Background to the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age
  • A rich heritage in northeast Wales
  • Discovering the graves
  • Sources (bibliography) for all four parts 

Part 2 – What do we know about Bryn y Ffynnon, the grave of ‘Brymbo Man’?

Part 3 – What do we know about Bryn yr Ellyllon, where the Mold cape was found? 

Part 4 – Bringing the threads together, plus visiting details

 

Part 1: Introduction

The series is based on two burial finds in northeast Wales, Bryn yr Ellyllon, near Mold and Bryn y Ffynnon at Brymbo, Wrexham.  These two sites have been chosen 1) because excavated sites are comparatively unusual in northeast Wales, 2) the contents of both sites can be visited in museums, and 3) because of the differences between them, and the opportunity for assessing different types of knowledge about the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age in northeast Wales.  In spite of the differences between them, both represent variants of the broader burial tradition, and therefore have the potential to add their own unique voices to the discussion of how this period manifests itself in the region.

The Mold Cape (British Museum 188,0514.1) from Bryn yr Ellyllon near Mold. Source: British Museum

Bryn yr Ellyllon (which translates as Hill of Goblins or Fairies) was discovered by labourers in 1833 a few miles to the east of Mold.  It was a round cairn (a mound of stones) that contained a badly decayed skeleton together accompanied by a number of very fine artefacts, one of which is the magnificent gold Mold Cape made of paper-thin gold and embossed with a decorative theme that emulates multiple strings of beads.  The other objects included around 300 amber beads (the exact number found remains unknown, and only one survives), other pieces of gold that appear to have belonged to a second cape, and some poorly preserved items of bronze.  These are now in the British Museum in London and are discussed further below and in part 3.  Even though the objects were pulled from the site as pieces of treasure, the location of the site is known, and the objects form a relatively coherent assemblage.  These are valuable details when understanding how objects were chosen to accompany the dead, and where burial sites were located in the landscape.

The partial remains of Brymbo Man and his two grave goods from the Bryn y Ffynnon cist. Source: Peoples Collection Wales

In 1958 a stone-line cist called Bryn y Ffynnon, was found 10 miles to the northwest of Wrexham at Brymbo, containing the well-preserved remains of a partial skeleton, a flint tool and a ceramic vessel known as a Beaker.  The name means Hill of the Well or Spring (with many thanks to Reginald Iain de Crawford-Griffin for the translation).  It seems to have been named for a small farm of the same name on Brymbo Hill.  The site was excavated in 1958, and the results published in an excavation report in 1959.  The man to whom the skeleton belonged, now nick-named Brymbo Man, was around 35 years old when he died some 3600 years ago.   The burial, including the skeletal remains, is now on display in the Wrexham County Borough Museum, together with a reconstruction of the skeleton’s face.  The site is discussed further below, and in detail in part 2.

Each burial offers contrasting insights into the Late Neolithic / Early Bronze Age, and they are worth looking at both individually and together to highlight how different sites may produced different types of knowledge.  Every individual site has something to say for itself, and as more sites are investigated, each feeds in turn into our knowledge about the period in which they were constructed, and during which they formed an integral part of the human landscape.  It is the  understanding of the period as a whole, rather than individual objects, that is important to archaeologists, who work to recreate past societies from the sites and objects that survive.

Some Background to the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age

Chronology of ceramics in Britain, Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age. Source: Parker-Pearson et al 2016

The Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age are usually discussed together.  The period lasts from around 2900-1600 BC.   The division from the earlier Neolithic lies in transformations visible in the material record, which may in turn reflect revisions of ideology, social organization and/or economic activity.  These changes coincide with a period of climatic change.

Riverine connections during British prehistory, showing how the river network links from Wessex, the Thames valley and the Humber estuary. Source: Bradley 2019, p.20

The climate, cooler than in the earlier Neolithic, was still favourable for agriculture, and in particular may have supported agricultural development in hilly areas in the summer months.  Astrid Caseldine’s analysis of environmental indicators suggests that this was a period of deforestation in many parts of upland north Wales, probably indicative of agricultural expansion into these upland areas.  This is supported both by the notable increase in cereal pollen in these environments, and by the flowering of Late Neolithic – Early Bronze Age monuments across the upland landscape.  This expansion could not have lasted indefinitely; the soils were simply not of sufficiently robust quality to sustain long-term agricultural expansion.  Valleys were also popular locations for these sites, indicating that communities were adept at making the best of various different environments.  The valley of the river Alyn, along which several sites are located including Bryn yr Ellyllon and the Llong, is one example.

Foremost amongst the transformations in material culture, suggesting social as well as economic changes, is a different form of burial  practise, suggesting changes in the way that communities defined themselves and related to both others and the landscape.  Although there were a number of tomb styles prevalent in the earlier Neolithic, most burial sites contained the remains of multiple individuals, but at the end of the Neolithic and the beginning of the Bronze age, smaller round barrows and cairns were favoured, usually containing a single burial in a small subterranean chamber at its centre, sometimes with a new form of pottery known as a Beaker.  Sometimes additional burials added into the mound itself at a later date.  At the same time, settlements became less substantial, more ephemeral, and much less easy to find archaeologically, the sites often consisting of little more than household debris with few, if any, signs of the circular structures that once contained them.

A suggested reconstruction of the 100s of beads found in the cairn at Llong, near Mold. Source: Curious Clwyd

Pottery styles also changed at this time, with the introduction of the new Beaker form from Europe and the replacement of earlier Neolithic styles with new home-grown Grooved Ware, Food Vessels and Collared Urns.  As the name Bronze Age suggests, this was also the period during which metal-working began, first copper and gold, and later bronze itself, an alloy of copper and tin.  North Wales was well placed as a base for the exploitation of mineral sources, an industry that gained momentum during the Early Bronze Age before becoming an important centre for copper and other resources in the Middle Bronze Age.  The earliest copper tools in Wales were flat axes that had been cast in an open mould, a basic technology that improved over time.  Decorative items, such as items of jewellery also appear much more frequently.  The amber beads in Bryn yr Ellyllon and the jet and shale beads in the necklace found in a cairn at Llong, near Mold, both in the valley of the river Alyn, are both examples from northeast Wales.

Although these are the top-level identifiers of the new Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age material culture, there is considerable regional variation, and even within a region no two graves are identical.  Although inhumations (burials) are typical of barrow graves, cremation steadily gained momentum, eventually replacing inhumation as the preferred method for disposing of the dead.

A rich Early Bronze Age heritage in northeast Wales

The Maesmor Estate macehead from near Corwen (near Llangollen). Found in 1840. Source: National Museum of Wales

Northeast Wales was a recipient of these new ideas, perhaps deriving them from earlier versions in south Wales, or perhaps more plausibly from similar manifestations in northern England with which the northern Welsh material appears to have certain affinities.  The Bryn y Ffynnon Beaker, for example, bears a close resemblance to examples in northeast England, and stone maceheads from northeast Wales are comparable with those from the north of England, including a remarkable example from the Maesmor Estate at Llangwm near Corwen in the Ceirw river valley, not far from the Dee (shown left).  Good quality flint pieces for more mundane stone tools are unavailable in north Wales, and this appears to have been imported from elsewhere.  Yorkshire jet appears in northeast Wales during the Late Neolithic, as does amber. The nearest source of amber was the Baltic, but it also washed up on beaches along the Yorkshire coast.  Amber was found in Bryn yr Ellyllon with the golden cape;  jet (and black stone resembling jet) appears in the necklace, found scattered in a the stones of cairn at Llong, 1.5 miles (2.4km) southeast of Mold, overlying the burial of a crouched female skeleton. Although sea routes had dominated during the earlier Neolithic, the indications are that land and river routes now assumed a new importance, transforming networks of communication.

Distribution of round barrows and cairns in Wales. Source: Burrow 2011, p.106

However they arrived, the Early Neolithic and Early Bronze Age burial practices soon colonized northeast Wales, mainly round barrows (mounds of earth or turf) and cairns (mounds of stone) the majority of which, but by no means all, are thought to have been burial sites.  Here there were none of the earlier Neolithic monumental burials such as the so-called portal dolmens found in northwest Wales and on Anglesey.  There are 100s of mounds all over Wales, north and south, and there are particular concentrations in the northeast of Wales, and along the Welsh borders.  See the map right.  There are also a few other types of ceremonial monuments from the period, including stone circles and so-called henges.  Sadly, as explained above, there is a severe dearth of settlement sites.  Nearly all of the archaeological data available about the period in northeast Wales is derived from these round mounds, built of earth, turf, or stones.  Most have not been excavated, and many have become very overgrown over the millennia, making it difficult to differentiate between them.  Where they have been investigated, a number of different types have been identified, based on features like kerb stones, berms and ditches.  Some round barrows and cairns are completely empty of burials, but may perform a similar function in terms of looking like a burial site and establishing a presence in the landscape.

Source: Prehistoric Funerary and Ritual Monuments in Flintshire and Wrexham, by Frances Lynch 2003

Of the round barrows found in northeast Wales, some have been recorded but are no longer visible.  Others are visible, either as monuments or as crop marks in aerial photographs, but have not been examined.  Some were excavated before sound archaeological techniques were developed, and just a few have been subject to modern archaeological investigation.  In all, it’s a very mixed bag of data, but it all points to a very busy Welsh heritage during the Early Bronze Age period.

When Frances Lynch discussed the survey of Bronze Age monuments in Flintshire and Wrexham in 2003, she included a table that listed 284 monuments, capturing particular concentrations of Early Bronze Age burial activity on Ruabon Mountain and in the Alyn Valley. What is interesting about her list is the sheer number of round barrows when compared to any other type of contemporary monument.  A single stone circle and a possible henge (ceremonial monuments) are recorded.  Lynch makes the point that sites located side by side may or may not be directly related to one another, but even so, a landscape stuffed full or more or less contemporary monuments is a notable phenomenon.

1991 map showing the distribution of scheduled Bronze Age barrows and major finds spots in Clwyd.  Scheduled monuments are those that are under state protection, but there are many more that are not scheduled, so this shows only those sites deemed to be most important. Source: Manley et al 1991, p.66

To understand the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age, other types of site would normally be taken into consideration, a mix of domestic, funerary and ritual sites.  These include other ceremonial sites, industrial sites like kilns, quarries and mines, and settlements.   A combination of sites helps to create a sense of what the lived area was like.  The profusion of round mounds argues that northeast Wales was clearly well populated, but settlement and industrial sites remain very rare, although the copper mine at the Great Orme stands out as a notable and welcome exception.  In spite of these gaps, prehistorian Frances Lynch, who specializes in Welsh archaeology, suggests that these prolific barrow builders were far from insular, and that they were part of larger networks of communication

“Although the social character of Wales was perhaps more conservative than that of many parts of Britain, the country was not isolated.  The presence of exotic beads made of amber, faience and jet demonstrates that even quite remote communities could obtain luxuries from a distance and that fashions in clothes, as far as we can reconstruct them, changed in step with those elsewhere.” (Lynch 2000 p.138)

I will be talking more about grave distribution and how these two graves fit into the general picture in part 4.

Discovering the graves

The two sites under discussion were found 125 years apart.  That 125 years accounts for how differently each site was treated by its finders. Both sites were discovered by workmen.  Bryn yr Ellyllon, which contained the Mold Cape, was found in 1833 and Bryn y Ffynnon (Brymbo) was found in 1958.  The grave at Bryn yr Ellyllon on the eastern outskirts of Mold, was discovered on the banks of the River Alyn, by accident by workmen in 1833, using stones from the cairn (stone mound) that covered the cist and its contents to fill in a disused gravel pit at the side of a road.  Similarly, Bryn y Ffynnon, was found by workmen building a new housing estate.  They were laying pipes, for which they were digging a new trench  in Cheshire View in the village of Brymbo.

Bryn yr Ellyllon (containing the Mold Cape and accompanying grave goods)

Imaginative reconstruction of the discovery of the Mold Cape at Bryn yr Ellyllon by Tony Daly.  It is far more likely that the skeleton was lying on its side, and we know that the cape was in pieces.  Still, it is a useful way of visualizing how the site was uncovered.  Source: British Museum Partnership Programme

An early 19th century discovery is almost inevitably bad news for a site in terms of excavation techniques, the proper recording of archaeological finds and the finding and preservation of delicate organic remains, such as, for example, very small pieces of human skeletal material, animal bones, plant remains, foodstuffs and any fabrics or bits of basketry.  Even so, if the Bryn yr Ellyllon grave had been subjected to any form of contemporary archaeological investigation it would have fared better than it did.

When the labourers at the Bryn yr Ellyllon grave found the treasures that accompanied a decayed skeleton, they simply disposed of the bones and divided the spoils between themselves and the landowner John Longford.  No records were made of the skeleton, and any contents that could be expected within the cairn itself, such as any secondary burials or artefacts within its structure, were lost. It is possible that other more pedestrian objects like stone tools may have been in the grave but, like the skeleton, were disposed of at the time.  Had it not been for the Reverend Charles Butler Clough, the vicar of Mold, the find might never have come to academic light, and its discovery by a team of labourers would have been the kiss of death.  Fortunately, the Reverend Clough heard of the find and took great interest in it, writing a letter to John Gage, in which he described the find, referring to the cape as a corselet:

I regret to say, that the Corselet suffered considerable mutilation. Mr. Langford, upon its discovery, having no idea of its value, threw it into a hedge, and told the workmen to bring it with them when they returned home to dinner. In the mean time several persons broke small pieces off it, and after I saw it, one piece of gold, apparently a shoulder strap, which was entire (or piece passing over the shoulder from the front to the back of the arm) was taken away ; two small pieces, of what I believe to have been (from its similarity to what I had seen) the other shoulder strap, with several small pieces of copper upon which the gold was fixed, are still in Mr. Langford’s possession; several rings and breast pins have been made out of the pieces carried away.

Illustration of the Mold Cape  and fragments of a different cape from the same grave, all found in 1833. Source: Gage 1835

Hair-raising stuff.  It was common for the clergy to write up this sort of discovery, as they were frequently the most scholarly and informed people around, and often had a profound interest in history.  It is because of the Reverend Clough that anything at all is known about the grave beyond the surviving grave goods. His report was published in the journal Archaeologia in 1836, three years after the discovery, and the British Museum picked up on it and went to Mold to see if they could rescue the finds.  It took over a century for enough of the pieces of the cape to be assembled for a reconstruction to be made (in the 1960s).  Some fragments are still missing presumably those that Clough said had been recycled into rings and pins.

A geophysical survey was carried out in 2013, hoping to find either the site itself or anything associated with it, but its findings were limited to the discovery of the possible original site of the cairn, estimated at 25m in diameter.

The grave contents are now in the British Museum in London and the cape itself was featured in Neil MacGregor’s radio series (and the book that followed) “A History of the World in 100 Objects,” based on objects in the British Museum.  In 2013 it was loaned to Wrexham County Borough Museum where it was put on display for five weeks, together with Llong shale and jet necklace, discovered in another burial nearby.  It is is decorated with impressed designs, and absolutely remarkable for the skill required to work something so thin.

Bryn y Ffynnon (the grave of “Brymbo Man”)

The 1950s Brymbo housing estate, during the construction of which the Bryn y Ffynnon grave was found.  Its rural surroundings are clearly visible. Source: Archwilio

Bryn y Ffynnon was found in 1958, and was very soon the subject of professional excavation.  The workmen laying pipes for a new housing estate on the outskirts of Brymbo had stumbled across the corner of a vast slab of stone when they dug down to create a trench, about 30 cm (1ft) below the modern surface.  When they investigated further, they found that it was the roughly hewn capstone (lid) of a cist (stone-lined rectangular grave)., which contained a burial and two artefacts:  a pot and a flint tool.  They removed the long bones and the beaker, for reasons unknown, but left the rest undisturbed.

Even in 1958, archaeology had not come of age in Britain.  Radiocarbon dating had been invented but was still giving inaccurate dates, and was not calibrated (corrected) until 1967, after which many further modifications were made.  Field techniques had not yet been fully refined, although they were improving all the time.  Nor was there the same awareness that there is today of the value of leaving discoveries like this in situ, like a crime scene, so that they objects can be understood in relation to one another as they were deposited, in keeping with the intentions of those who interred the deceased and the grave goods.

The importance of relationships between objects, such as placement of finds near the head, hands or feet, help archaeologists to understand the lost language of ritual practises, just as the positioning of the skeleton itself, including its orientation (e.g. north-south) and the direction in which it was facing (e.g. east or west)  help to understand how widespread these traditions and ideas actually were.

It is particularly nice, therefore, that in spite of the fact that the burial was found in the middle of a construction site, the details were passed over to the Grosvenor Museum in Chester, who in turn passed the news over to the National Museum of Wales to enable them to send a team and excavate the site as a rescue dig.  The aim of rescue archaeology is to recover as much data and material as possible at a site in the allotted time before the halted construction or other activity must resume.  Many rescue digs were carried out in the countryside during the 1950s due to the expansion of housing on formerly rural land.  Without a cairn or barrow to signal its presence, the cist was only found whilst work was already underway, and work had to stop to allow the site to be excavated.

Plan and elevation by H.N. Savory published in 1959, showing the grave, together with its contents, as it was found in 1958.  Source: Transactions of Denbighshire Historical Society

When they arrived on site, the National Museum of Wales archaeologist H.N. Savory and his team were able to replace the bones in their original position and went on to record the entire grave in situ before removing the grave, slabs and all, to enable the pipe-laying to proceed.

The following year Savory published a short but comprehensive excavation report with illustrations in 1959 in the Transactions of Denbighshire Historical Society, not yet digitized but available today in the public library in Wrexham.  The plan and elevation of the grave is taken from that publication.

The grave and its contents were initially sent to Cardiff, where they were put on display in the National Museum of Wales, but are now in the Wrexham County Borough Museum.  The grave is excellently displayed.  The skeleton has been nick-named Brymbo Man.  A reconstruction of the head, based on the remains of the skull, gives Brymbo Man a possible face, also on display in the museum.

In Part 2, both Savory’s excavation, together with the later post-excavation work that took place, will be discussed.

Final Comments on Part 1

Northeast Wales is home to 100s of round barrows.  There are even two in Wrexham itself, miracle survivors of urban development.  Not enough sites have been excavated to be able to talk in terms of a typical site, but both both sites stand out for the quality of their artefacts.  Although the Beaker in Bryn yr Ffynon is not a rare piece, it is certainly unusual in this area, at least in the context of our current knowledge, and the Mold cape is acknowledged as a national treasure.

Photograph on display in the Wrexham County Borough Museum of Bryn y Ffynnon being excavated during the construction of a new housing estate.

Neither site was found under ideal circumstances, but Bryn y Ffynnon fared much better than Bryn yr Ellyllon, due almost entirely to the 125 years between the two discovery dates, and the much greater awareness of the value of archaeological sites, and their protection by law.  In a field where funding is always an uphill battle, it is often due to accidental findings during construction work that result in excavations.  Ironically, given that it signals the destruction of a site, rescue archaeology is enormously helpful in filling out the picture of archaeological periods, but it is relatively rare that such rescue work is required in rural areas.  It was only because of the expansion of Brymbo into the surrounding countryside that Bryn y Ffynnon was discovered and rescued.  What this means, in practical terms, is that the recovery of the archaeology of northeast Wales will inevitably remain piecemeal, as funding for excavation (and post-excavation analysis) is secured on a case by case basis, or as other rescue opportunities arise.

Each burial and its accompanying objects will be discussed in much greater depth in the next two posts, Bryn yr Ffynon (Brymbo) posted in part 2 and Bryn yr Ellyllon (Mold), posted in part 3.  In part 4 all the strands are brought together to talk about how the two sites contribute to what is known of the archaeology of northeast Wales and the borders.

 

Sources:

Books, booklets and papers:

Armit, I., and Reich, D. 2021. The return of the Beaker folk? Rethinking migration and population change in British prehistory. Antiquity, 95 (384), 1464-1477
https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/antiquity/article/return-of-the-beaker-folk-rethinking-migration-and-population-change-in-british-prehistory/ABF13307796A0476353FA8D2DA38A21A

Bradley, R. 2019 (2nd edition).  The Prehistory of Britain and Ireland. Cambridge University Press

British Museum Partnership Programme, (no date). The Mold Cape. A Prehistoric Masterpiece from North-East Wales. (Dual language, Welsh and English). National Museum of Wales and Wrexham County Borough Museum.

Brück, J. 2004. Material Metaphors. The Relational Construction of Identity in Early Bronze Age Burials in Ireland and Britain.  Journal of Social Archaeology, vol.4(3), p.307-333

Brück, J. 2008. The Architecture of Routine Life.  In Pollard, J. (ed.) Prehistoric Britain. Blackwell, p.248-267

Brück, J., & Booth, T. 2022. The Power of Relics: The Curation of Human Bone in British Bronze Age Burials. European Journal of Archaeology, p.1-23
https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/european-journal-of-archaeology/article/power-of-relics-the-curation-of-human-bone-in-british-bronze-age-burials/54F72F3A23123CE92393929753F6765D

Burrow, S. 2011.  Shadowland. Wales 3000-1500BC.  Oxbow Books / National Museum of Wales

Caseldine, A. 1990.  Environmental Archaeology in Wales. Department of Archaeology, St David’s University College, Lampeter
https://archive.org/details/environmentalarc0000case/page/n1/mode/2up

Clark, J. 1932. The Date of the Plano-Convex Flint-Knife in England and Wales. The Antiquaries Journal, 12(2), p.158-162.

Clarke, D.V., Cowie, T.G. and Foxon, A. 1985.  Symbols of Power at the Age of Stonehenge. National Museum of Antiquities, Scotland.

Clwyd-Powys Archaeological Trust.  Mold Gold! Newsletter Autumn 2007
https://cpat.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/CPAT-Autumn-2007-1.pdf

Duhig, Corinne. n.d. The Skeleton from Bryn-Y-Ffynon, Brymbo (“Brymbo Man”), Unpublished, Wolfson College, Cambridge. (With many thanks to Rhiannon Pettitt for sending it to me)

Dutton, A., Fasham, P., Jenkins, D., Caseldine, A., & Hamilton-Dyer, S.,1994. Prehistoric Copper Mining on the Great Orme, Llandudno, Gwynedd. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society, 60(1), p.245-286

Frieman, C. 2012. Going to pieces at the funeral: Completeness and complexity in early Bronze Age jet ‘necklace’ assemblages.  Journal of Social Archaeology, 0(0), p.1-22
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258157952_Going_to_pieces_at_the_funeral_Completeness_and_complexity_in_early_Bronze_Age_jet_%27necklace%27_assemblages

Fowler, Chris, 2013.  The Emergent Past. A Relational Realist Archaeology of Early Bronze Age Mortuary Practices. Oxford University Press

Gage, J. 1835.  XXII. A Letter from JOHN GAGE, Esq. F.R.S., Director, to Sir HENRY ELLIS, K.H., F.R.S., Secretary, accompanying a Gold British Corselet exhibited to the Society, and since purchased by the Trustees of the British Museum.  Read 17th December, 1835
[includes extracts from Reverend Clough’s and Mr Langford’s letters]

Harris, C. and Kaiser, A. 2020. Burying the Hatchet.  Revue d’Économie Politique, November-December 2020/6 (vol.130), p.1025-1044
https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3701375

Harris, S. 2019. Chapter 7 – The Challenge of Textiles in Early Bronze Age Burials: Fragments of Magnificence. In: The Textile Revolution in Bronze Age Europe.  Production, Specialisation, Consumption, ed. Sabatini S. and Bergerbrant, S. Cambridge University Press, p.154-196. 

Hoole, M, Sheridan, A, Boyle, A, Booth, T, Brace, S, Diekmann, Y, Olalde, I, Thomas, M, Barnes, I, Evans, J, Chenery, C, Sloane, H, Morrison, H, Fraser, S, Timpany, S and Hamilton, D 2018 ‘“Ava”: a Beaker-associated woman from a cist at Achavanich, Highland, and the story of her (re-)discovery and subsequent study’, Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland 147:
73-118.
http://journals.socantscot.org/index.php/psas/article/view/10106

Hurcombe, L.M. 2014. Perishable Material Culture in Prehistory. Investigating the Missing Majority. Routledge

Johnson, N. 2017.  Early Bronze Age Barrows of the Anglo-Welsh Border. BAR British Series 632

Jones, A. 2008. How The Dead Live:  Mortuary Practices, Memory and the Ancestors in Neolithic and Early Bronze Age Britain and Ireland.  In Pollard, J. (ed.) Prehistoric Britain. Blackwell, p.177-201

Jones, N.W. 2000. Prehistoric Funerary & Ritual Sites:  Flintshire and Wrexham. Project Report.  Clwyd-Powys Archaeological Trust, March 2000.
http://www.walesher1974.org/herumd.php?group=CPAT&level=3&docid=301338460

Lanting, J.N. and van der Waals, J.D. 1972. British Beakers as seen from the Continent, Helinium 12, p.20-46

Lewis A 1990, Underground exploration of the Great Orme copper mines in (eds.) Crew, P. and Crew, S., Early mining in the British Isles, Plas Tan y Bwlch, p.5-10

Lloyd, J.Y.W. 1885. The History of the Princes, the Lords Marcher and the ancient nobility of Powys Fadoc and the Ancient Lords of Arwystli, Cedewen and Merionydd.  Whiting and Co, London.
https://archive.org/details/historyofprinces05lloy

Lynch, F. 1983. Report on the Excavation  of a Bronze Age Barrow at Llong, near Mold.  Journal  of Flintshire Historical Society, 31, p.13-28

Lynch, F. 1991. The Bronze Age.  In Manley, J., Grenter, S and Gale, G. (eds.) The Archaeology of Clwyd. Archaeology Service Clwyd, p.55-81

Lynch, F. 2000.  The Later Neolithic and Earlier Bronze Age.  In. Lynch, F., Aldhouse-Green, S., and Davies, J.L. (eds.) Prehistoric Wales. Sutton Publishing

Lynch, F. 2003. Prehistoric Funerary and Ritual Monuments in Flintshire and Wrexham, Flintshire Historical Society Journal, Vol 36 (2003), p.19-31

MacGregor, N. 2020.  A History of the World in 100 Objects.  Penguin

Morgan, D.E.M. 1990. Bronze Age Metalwork from Flintshire. North West Archaeological Trust, Report No.4

Morgan, V. and Morgan, P. 2004.  Prehistoric Cheshire.  Landmark Collections Library

Needham, S. 2012, Putting capes into context: Mold at the heart of a domain. In Britnell, W. J. & Silvester, R. J. (eds.) Reflections on the past: essays in honour of Frances Lynch. Welshpool, Cambrian Archaeological Association, pp. 210-236

O’Brien, W. 1996.  Bronze Age Copper Mining in Britain and Ireland. Shire Archaeology.

Olalde, O. 2017. The Beaker Phenomenon and the Genomic Transformation of Northwest Europe.  bioRxiv May 2017
https://www.biorxiv.org/content/10.1101/135962v1.full.pdf

Parker-Pearson, M., Chamberlain, A., Jay, M., Richards, M., and Sheridan, A., Curtis, N., Evans, J., Gibson, A., Hutchison, M., Mahoney, P., Marshall, P. Montgomery, J. Needham, S. O’Mahoney,  S. Sandra, Pellegrini, M. and and Wilkin, N. 2016.  Bell Beaker people in Britain: migration, mobility and diet. Antiquity., 90 (351), p. 620-637
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/303316762_Beaker_people_in_Britain_Migration_mobility_and_diet

Powell, T.G.E. 1953. The Gold Ornament from Mold, Flintshire North Wales.  Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 19, p.161-79

Ray, K. and Thomas, J. 2018.  Neolithic Britain. The Transformation of Social Worlds.  Oxford University Press

Savory, H. N. 1959. A Beaker Cist at Brymbo. Transactions of Denbighshire Historical Society, Iss. 8, Vol.8, p.11-17

Sheridan, A. 2008. Towards a fuller, more nuanced narrative of Chalcolithic and Early Bronze Age Britain 2500-1500 BC.  Bronze Age Review. vol.1, British Museum
https://britishmuseum.iro.bl.uk/concern/articles/28723733-e7b7-4726-aa04-1d89ad647048

Taylor, J. 1985. Gold and Silver. In (eds.) Clarke, D.V., Cowie, T.G. and Foxon, A.  Symbols of Power at the Age of Stonehenge. National Museum of Antiquities, Scotland
https://archive.org/details/symbolsofpowerat0000clar/page/n359/mode/2up

Taylor, J.A. 1980. Environmental changes in Wales during the Holocene period in Taylor, J.A. (ed.) Culture and Environment in Prehistoric Wales.  British Archaeological Reports British Series 76

Thomas, J. 1991.  Reading the Body.  Beaker Funerary Practice in Britain. In (eds.) Garwood, Jennings, D., Skeates, R and Toms, J.  Sacred and Profane: Proceedings of a Conference on Archaeology, Ritual and Religion, Oxford, 1989.  Oxbow Books

Thomas, J. 2007, Three Bronze Age Round Barrows at Cossington: A History of Use and Re-Use. Transactions of Leicestershire Archaeological and Historical Society 81 (2007), p.35-63
https://www.le.ac.uk/lahs/downloads/2007/2007%20(81)%2035-63%20Thomas.pdf

Timberlake, S. and Marshall, P. 2014.  The beginnings of metal production in Britain: a new light on the exploitation of ores and the dates of Bronze Age mines.  Historical Metallurgy 47(1), p.75-92
https://hmsjournal.org/index.php/home/article/download/112/109/109

Young, T. 2013.  GeoArch Report 2013/20, Geophysical survey of the supposed findspot of the ‘Gold Cape’, Bryn-yr-ellyllon, Mold, Flintshire (pt 2), 29th September 2013
https://museum.wales/media/30592/2013-20-Geophysical-survey-at-Mold-pt2.pdf

Waddinton, C. 2004. The Joy of Flint. Museum of Antiquities, University of Newcastle upon Tyne
https://www.archaeologicalresearchservices.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/JoyofFlint_1.pdf

Woodward, A. 2000.  British Barrows: A Matter of Life and Death.  Tempus.

Woodward, A. 2002. Beads and Beakers: heirlooms and relics in the British Early Bronze Age. Antiquity 76, p.1040-47

Websites:

Advanced Amber Kretaceous Zoologia (AAKZ)
British Amber
http://www.aakz.com/British-and-Irish-amber.html

ARCHAEO-death by Howard Williams
Questions for Brymbo Man
https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2015/08/05/questions-for-brymbo-man/

Archwilio
CPAT Regional Historic Environment Record Mold: Bryn-yr-ellyllon, Geophysical survey, 2013
https://archwilio.org.uk/her/chi3/report/page.php?watprn=CPAT166880&dbname=cpat&tbname=event&sessid=CHI39bx3hf5&queryid=Q883547001681323677

BBC News
Great Orme: Rare Bronze Age axe mould declared treasure, June 1st 2022
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-61663012

British Museum
Cape
https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/H_1836-0902-1

Clwyd-Powys Archaeological Trust
Mold Gold!
CPAT Newsletter, Autumn 2007, p.6-8
https://cpat.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/CPAT-Autumn-2007-1.pdf

Current Archaeology
December 1st 2016
The Cist on Whitehorse Hill
https://archaeology.co.uk/articles/features/cist-whitehorse-hill.htm
October 1st 2018
Spinning the tale of prehistoric textiles
https://archaeology.co.uk/articles/news/spinning-the-tale-of-prehistoric-textiles.htm

Dartmoor National Park
Whitehorse Hill
https://www.dartmoor.gov.uk/wildlife-and-heritage/heritage/bronze-age/whitehorse-hill

The Fire on the Hill
Index of Brymbo Placenames
https://thefireonthehill.wordpress.com/index-of-places/

Getty Museum
The Properties of Amber
https://www.getty.edu/publications/ambers/intro/6/

The Independent
Discovery of vast treasure trove of fine textiles shows importance of fashion to Bronze Age Britons by David Keys, 14th July 2016
https://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/archaeology/vast-treasure-trove-of-fine-textiles-shows-importance-of-fashion-to-bronze-age-britons-a7135786.html 

Mellor Archaeological Trust
Necklace of Amber Beads
https://www.mellorarchaeology-2000-2010.org.uk/archaeology/finds/amberbeads.htm

PBS Time Team America
Isotope Analysis
http://timeteam.lunchbox.pbs.org/time-team/experience-archaeology/isotope-analysis/

Wrexham County Borough Museums and Archives
Brymbo Man Revealed
https://www.wrexhamheritage.wales/brymbo-man/

St Werburgh, Queen Æthelflæd, pilgrim badges and the shrine in Chester Cathedral

St Werburgh pilgrim badge, possibly 14th century, cast in lead alloy, purchased by the British Museum from a London dealer in curiosities, medals and coins. British Museum 1836,0610.73

Had you been a pilgrim in the middle ages, undertaking a journey to Chester to visit the miracle-performing shrine of St Werburgh, you might have been tempted to buy yourself a pilgrim’s badge to commemorate a job well done and to communicate your achievement to others. Most importantly, however, you would have had the opportunity to touch that badge to the saint’s shrine in order to absorb some of the saint’s divine power into the badge itself.  That’s what you are looking at on the left – a pilgrim’s badge associated with the Abbey of St Werburgh, which would have been sold to pilgrims either as they arrived, or as they left via the gift shop.  Badges like this were associated with many of the major shrines and could be added to an existing personal collection, representing the piety implied by many pilgrimages.

When I first came to live in the Chester area, just a couple of years ago, I knew the name St Werburgh and recognized that it was Anglo-Saxon, but it was a surprise to realize that she was a female saint, and that there was a pilgrim shrine dedicated to her in the former abbey (now the cathedral).  Nor did I know that the pilgrims who came to visit the abbey might purchase a badge as a token of their visit, a pious badge of honour, sometimes the signal of  the many discomforts or difficulties that had been overcome to enable a pilgrimage to be successfully completed.

Chester Cathedral, formerly St Werburgh’s Benedictine Abbey, from the east. Photograph by Stephen Hamilton.

What I particularly like about pilgrim badges is that there are so many threads to the story. An anonymous pilgrim once owned the above token of his or her journey to the shrine, now in the British Museum (albeit not on display). The British Museum purchased it in 1836 from a dealer in medals and coins called Harry Cureton.  The story of this particular badge between the time of its manufacture to its purchase by a dealer before being accessioned into the British Museum’s collections is lost, but its story is embedded in other, much older histories, including the actions of the Anglo-Saxon queen who moved that saint from Staffordshire to Chester in the 10th century, and the subsequent centuries of pilgrim visits to the abbey to experience St Werburgh for themselves.

So who was the  Anglo-Saxon saint, where was she from, why did she become central to Benedictine worship in Chester after her death, what is the geese-in-a-basket pilgrim badge all about, and what role did the shrine of St Werburgh play in the economic life of Chester’s abbey?

  • St Werburgh and her family
  • St Werburgh’s posthumous arrival in Chester
  • St Werburgh in the Benedictine monastery of 1093
  • The miracles of St Werburgh at the monastery
  • The 14th century shrine
  • Pilgrims to the shrine in the later Middle Ages – a nice little earner
  • How pilgrim badges were made, sold, worn and used
  • The Dissolution and subsequent events
  • The shrine in the 19th century
  • From Harry Cureton to the British Museum
  • Final Comments
  • Videos
  • Sources

St Werburgh and her family

Werburgh was born a Mercian princess in around AD650.  Her father was Wulfhere, king of Mercia and her mother Ermengild, who became a nun on the death of Wulfhere, first at Minster-in-Sheppey and then at Ely, where she succeeded her mother Seaxburgh as abbess.  Werburgh was educated at home by Chad, who became Bishop of Lichfield.  Although St Werburgh is depicted in a couple of the stained glass windows in the cathedral, these are modern, romanticized visualizations.  There are no contemporary depictions, and apart from having an idea of what she may have worn, her appearance is unknown.  Medieval accounts of her life probably incorporate older material, and almost certainly include quite a bit of myth and conjecture. 

Saint Æthelreda of Ely from the 10th century Benedictional of St. Æthelwold, illuminated manuscript in the British Library. Source: Wikipedia

On the death of her father, Werburgh went as a nun to the convent of Ely founded by her great aunt Æthereda (also known as Æthelthryth), who became its abbess.  St Æthelreda was the daughter of Anna, king of East Anglia, sister of Seaxburgh and the virgin wife of Egfrith, the king of Northumbria.  Werburgh’s father was succeeded by his brother Æthelred, Werburgh’s uncle, who eventually asked Werburgh to take charge of and organize nunneries in the Midlands, including Weedon in Northamptonshire, Hanbury in Staffordshire and Threckingham in Lincolnshire (or alternatively Trentham in Staffordshire).  She was so pure and good that she could hang her veil on a sunbeam.  She died at Threckingham / Trentham in around 700, and was buried at Hanbury, at her own request.  Unfortunately, the nuns at Threckingham were unwilling to release the remains, and a delegation was sent from Hanbury to retrieve her.

Saints were not canonized by the papacy until the 12th century, but had to be verified by bishops.  The miracle that caused Werburgh to be recognized as a saint was an unusual one.  Although there are a number of versions of the story, the differences are minor.  One version says that St Werburgh had enjoyed watching a visiting flock of geese in a neighbouring meadow of the convent in which she was staying.  One of them was particularly large and had a black ring of feathers around his neck.  She became fond of him and called him Grayking.  The convent steward, Hugh, had also noticed Grayking but his interest had little to do with aesthetically pleasing plumage.  Angry with the geese for devastating his field of corn, Hugh soon had Grayking in the pot.  One version says that Werburgh was away when this happened, and when she returned the remaining geese formed a delegation to inform her of the event and ask for her help.  Werbugh acted immediately, ordering that the bones and feathers of the carcass should be gathered up. When she commanded the bones of the dead goose to rise again, they assembled themselves and Grayking was reborn.

Late 14th century misericord in Chester Cathedral showing St Werburgh performing miracles. Photo by Stephen Hamilton. Source: Wikipedia

Dr Thomas Pickles (Senior Lecturer, Medieval History) recounts a slightly different version of the story in the video at the end of the post.  He goes on to discuss why other similar stories in across Europe may have developed in response to sacrifices at the time of harvests, which may have became Christianized via labourers who worked the land belonging to religious organizations, giving the St Werburgh miracle story wider relevance.

Nine years after her burial, St Werburgh’s nephew Coelred, now King of Mercia, decided to move the saint to a less modest tomb in Hanbury. When she was removed from her coffin she was found to be “in whole and perfect form,” a certain mark of sainthood.

St Werburgh’s posthumous arrival in Chester

A 13th century imaginative representation of Æthelflæd. Source: Medieval Manuscripts blog

St Werburgh never visited Chester during her lifetime, and her arrival in the Anglo-Saxon burh (fortified settlement) in around 907, over 200 years after her death, requires another thread of history that starts, for the practical purposes of this post, with Alfred the Great, King of Wessex (848 – 899AD).  Alfred’s daughter was the princess Æthelflæd who, at the age of around 15, was married for political reasons to Æthelred, king of Mercia. Æthelflæd grew up in a time of disruption and war, during the Viking incursions, and the associated competition for territory.  She was also familiar with the arts of diplomacy and negotiation.  She was well suited for the role of queen of Mercia.  Although subordinate to her husband, with duties and responsibilities, she also had rights, privileges and a position of respect that she clearly built on, being recognized as partner to her husband in many of their joint enterprises, including the establishment of new burghs at Worcester and Gloucester, whilst improving existing towns such as Hereford and Winchcombe. 

Æthelflæd’s father, Alfred the Great, died on 26th October 899, and was succeeded as King of Wessex by his eldest son, Edward the Elder, brother of Æthelflæd.  Edward was forced to fight off a counter claim from his cousin Æthelwold.  He was triumphant but was forced to address the situation again in 902 when Æthelwold unsuccessfully mounted another campaign against Edward. In the same year Æthelflæd’s mother died, probably in St Mary’s Abbey in Winchester, which she had founded, and a threat was made to the northwestern territory of Mercia at Chester.  It was only now, when the vulnerability of the old town threatened the security of the kingdom of Mercia that it drew attention from Æthelred and his Æthelflæd.   In the last decade of his life Æthelred suffered a recurring illness, and he had succumbed to a bout of this affliction when Chester came under threat. Æthelflæd assumed authority during the crisis.

Kingdoms in England in AD878, by Hel-hama. Source: Wikipedia

In the 890s Chester was described in the Anglo-Saxon Charters as “a deserted city in Wirral.”  It still had much of its Roman walls, but the interior was in ruins.  Mercia had been a much larger and more powerful kingdom in its past, but the Viking (Scandinavian) invasions had taken control of the eastern reaches of the former kingdom.  In the south, Wessex was the most powerful kingdom, whilst in the northeast the king of Northumbria still held land on the east half of the island, extending well into present-day Scotland.  The Dane-controlled land ran down much of the east coast south of Northumbria, and there was a significant Scandinavian presence in Ireland.

It was from Ireland that the threat to Chester emerged.  In 902 the Irish kings formed an alliance to rid themselves of the Vikings, capturing Norse Dublin and forcing many to leave as groups of refugees in need of new lands to colonize.  One of these refugees was Ingimund, who lead one of these ousted groups onto Anglesey.  Forcibly ejected by the Welsh, they followed the Dee inland towards Chester.  According to one source, they requested a meeting with the Mercian royalty.  With Æthelred still sick, Æthelflæd met with Ingimund who proposed a peaceful solution to the dilemma.  Æthelflæd was pragmatically willing to negotiate a home for them on the north of the Wirral peninsula, perhaps believing that they might provide a protective buffer against other Viking interests seeking to find new territory to colonize.  Here they could have lived in peace by farming and trading via the sea routes, but they had been settled for only a few years when Ingimund broke faith with Æthelflæd and began to amass troops.  Hearing of the threat, Æthelflæd assembled forces of her ow within the Chester walls.  The town was besieged but the Mercians emerged triumphant.

Æthelflaed’s name (spelled Æþelflæd), in the B-text of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: Cotton MS Tiberius A VI, f. 30r. Source: Medieval Manuscripts Blog

In 907 the Anglo-Saxon Charter says that Chester was “restored,” the work usually credited to Æthelflæd.  With Æthelred temporarily restored to health, they couple established Chester as a new burgh within the 5m (16ft) tall walls encompassing an area of 26 hectares (65 acres).  It was far bigger than their previous burhs, and represented a significant investment in the border town.  At the same time, Æthelflæd took the decision to move the relics of St Werburgh from Hanbury to Chester.  The timing was probably driven by the threat to the relics of St Werburgh at Hanbury by advancing Danish forces. This echoes Æthelflæd’s decision to move the relics of St Oswald from lands under Danish occupation, which took place under similar circumstances.  The decision to move St Werburgh to Chester may have been motivated by the need to give Chester an authentic, stabilizing Christian focus with links back to a noble Mercian past.  The creation of a prominent settlement in a vulnerable borderline position needed to attract people with the same features familiar from other towns.

According to St Weburgh monk Henry Bradshaw, writing in c.1513, but probably referencing much earlier sources, when the saint was removed to Chester, her body was found to be ‘resolued unto powder’, which was seen not in terms of decay or corruption of the remains, but as a divine miracle performed to protect the saint’s holy remains:

Lest the cruell gentils / and wiked myscreantes
With pollute handes full of corrupcion
Shulde touche her body / by indignation

Excerpt from Henry Bradshaw’s “The Life of St Wereburge of Chester,” originally 1513, re-edited and published 1887

Although there is no incontrovertible data to support the presence of a church on the site of St Werburgh’s Abbey, there is a tradition that a wooden church dedicated to Saints Peter and Paul had been founded there by Æthelflæd’s father Wulfhere, King of Mercia, which would have housed her remains.  This church would have been rededicated to St Werburgh when the saint became resident.  Archaeological excavations produced pre-Norman building materials, but it is not possible to assign an early 10th century date to them.  Wherever the church was located, the patronage of the queen ensured the initial success, and it received additional grants throughout the 10th century, including one from King Edgar in 958.  In the 1086 Domesday survey records the monastery and its possessions, indicating that the Anglo-Saxon St Werburgh’s was upgraded from church to monastery sometime before that date.

In 911 Æthelred died of unknown causes probably related to his recurring illness.  He was buried in Gloucester.  Many previous royal widows of the period had retired to a convent to live out the rest of their lives.  There was plenty of precedent in Æthelflæd’s own family for monastic service.  One great aunt was the founder of Ely Abbey, another was the founder of Minster-in Sheppey abbey, and Æthelflæd’s own mother had retired on the death of Wulfhere to a nunnery, eventually becoming abbess of Ely.  Æthelflæd, however, took the reigns of the Mercian government into her own hands, ruling as myrcna hlæfdige, Lady of the Mercians.  The church-monastery of St Werburgh continued to house the saint’s remains, and seems to have survived the military action that took place in and around Chester following the Conquest.

St Werburgh in the Benedictine monastery of 1093

Coat of arms of Hugh d’Avranche. Source: Wikipedia

In 1093, only 27 years after the Norman Conquest, the abbey was refounded as an Anglo-Norman Benedictine abbey by the notorious knight and magnate Hugh d’Avranches, also known as Hugh Lupus.  Hugh and been granted Chester as Earl by William I, and was one of the most powerful men in England.  His appointment followed William I’s vengeful retaliation against Chester for two rebellions, which had left the city in disarray.  Hugh’s task was to ensure that the city remained docile after William departed, serving the crown as the northenmost marcher town, a buffer zone between Wales and England, and an increasingly important commercial port.

There were many possible reasons for landowners to found monastic establishments, including convention (it was often seen as the duty of the nobility to promote religious houses), political maneovering, simple piety, and fear of the ever-approaching perils of the afterlife.  Hugh’s decision to refound the abbey was probably  two-fold.  Whilst making a conspicuous contribution to a deeply resentful city for which he was now responsible, and in which he needed to maintain the peace, he was also looking after his own spiritual interests.  He managed to secure one of the most high status bishops in the country, Anselm to come and supervise the project, and Anselm left his clerk Richard to become the first abbot.  Hugh endowed his shiny new monastery with rich and prosperous lands to ensure its self-sufficiency.  These were not merely charitable acts.  Hugh Lupus, for example, was heading perilously towards the end of a far from virtuous life.  John Hicklin, writing in 1852, gives an evocative summary of the situation

Hugh Lupus, following the example of most of his predecessors, lived a life of the wildest luxury and rapine.  At length, falling sick from the consequence of his excesses, and age and disease coming on, the old hardened soldier was struck with remorse; and—an expiation common enough in those days—the great Hugh Lupus took the cowl, retired in the last state of disease into the monastery, and in three days was no more.

By founding a monastery and committing himself to a brief period as a monk at the last possible moment, Hugh attempted to provide himself with some after-life insurance.  The logic of this is somewhat difficult to compute today.

The curvilinear Romanesque remains of the abbey financed by Hugh Lupus, seen through a later gothic arch.

Monks were considered to be closer to Heaven than any other human on earth, and their prayers were thought to be heard with undiluted clarity by God.  The idea of pleasing God by founding a monastery, and then reaching closer to Heaven by being buried within the monastic cloister seems suspiciously like inducement today, and one would have thought that God would have been wise to such manoeuvring.  Given the sheer number of wealthy men and women founding abbeys and priories, however, this aspect of the matter does not appear to have occurred to them.  Matters had became much more contractual during the 11th, when the idea of purgatory was taught in the church.  This intermediate area between heaven and hell allowed redeemable sinners to suffer a hell-like experience to work off their crimes against Christianity before eventually entering Heaven.   From this time onward, substantial efforts were made to negotiate for reduced time spent in purgatory, including the buying of “indulgences,” and gifts from the lower echelons to monasteries.

After the original endowment, the abbey continued to receive many properties over the centuries from wealthy local landowners, and smaller gifts in the wills of those who were not quite as well positioned, all attempting to win the good will of the monks, and through them, the divine.  Those with less purchasing power would not anticipate having the same negotiating power, but every contribution might help.  In the process of all this human fear and negotiations to minimize the inevitable punishments after death, monasteries became substantially wealthy, some of the richest landowners in the kingdom.  Land was not, however, their only form of income.  Not all monasteries were lucky enough to secure the bones, blood or hair of a saint that might attract pilgrims, but the abbey of St Werburgh still retained the bones of St Werburgh after its rebuild in 1093.

The miracles of St Werburgh at the abbey in Chester

Neither Goscelin de St-Bertin writing in the late 11th century, nor William of Malmesbury, writing in the 12th century were able to provide many details about the earlier miracles that St Werburgh was supposed to have performed at Chester, but William of Malmesbury has the following to say:  “The merits of this virgin are proclaimed at Chester and her miracles extolled.  Although she is promptly favourable to the petitions of all, she is especially quick to give heed to the prayers of women and children.”  Her girdle, held by the abbey, was apparently particularly popular with pregnant women.

Basingwerk Abbey today

In 1500 a monk at St Werburgh’s Abbey wrote a life of St Werburgh in which he credits her with a miracle on behalf of Richard, Earl of Chester in around 1120.  Richard made a pilgrimage to St Winifrede’s Well at Holywell in around 1120 but attacked by hostile Welsh men, he was forced to shelter at nearby Basingwerk Abbey.  Before William, Constable of Chester, set forth to search for the earl, he prayed to St Werburgh, who parted the river Dee because no boat was available, permitting William and his men to walk across the river bed and rescue the earl.  In another story, St Werburgh intervened during an unexpected Welsh attack on Chester.  She blinded the attackers, forcing them to retreat.  This military aspect to the saint is underlined by the tradition of taking the shrine on procession around the city when it was considered to be under threat, setting her down briefly on parts of the city walls.

In the 15th century the Welsh poets Maredudd ap Rhys and Guto’r Glyn called there, the one to pray to ease the pains in his legs, which was apparently a successful visit, and the other to pray for the alleviation of the ills of a friend.

The 14th century shrine

The reconstructed shrine of St Werburgh at the west end of the Lady Chapel in St Werburgh’s Cathedral, Chester.  It was reassembled in the 19th Century from broken -up parts, and it is impossible to say how closely it resembles the original 14th century shrine.  The warm lighting is as it would have been seen by candle-light.

Nearly 250 years after Hugh’s foundation, in around 1340 (just before the Black Death) a new red sandstone shrine was built for the saint, an elaborate gothic affair around 7ft (2.1m) tall, built to look like a chapel.  The new shrine, on two levels, contained whatever remained of the relics in the upper layer, whilst the lower half was provided with niches into which pilgrims could fold themselves to get even closer to the spirituality of the saint.  The top was decorated with statuettes for former Anglo-Saxon monarchs, most of whom are missing their heads today.  Little carved animals formed a line around the middle, images of the natural world that were as much part of God’s creation as people.  Today, the only one of these natural world carvings left is a tiny dog, scratching his ear with a hind leg.  The shrine was also, in all likelihood, bedecked with elaborate precious stones, its architectural details finished in gold.

Although today it is located in the 13th century Lady Chapel, it was originally located in the easternmost bay of the presbytery, behind the high altar.  The relics of the saint were encased very safely within the very top of the shrine, but the spiritual power of the bones themselves emanated from the relics, permeating the stone, so that touching the shrine was equivalent to touching the saint’s essence.  This was a powerful concept, and a vibrant presence in the monastery.   This substantial monument was a permanent fixture.  There would be no carrying the shrine through the town in times of threat or stress.

St Werburgh’s shrine showing the niches, the dog scratching it’s ear and gilded statuettes, some without their heads, of Anglo-Saxon kings. Click to enlarge

Pilgrims to the shrine in the later Middle Ages – a nice little earner

Mid 14th century coins. Source: Medieval Britain

Monks needed to make a living.  Monastic communities became more expensive as the centuries rolled forward, as the trappings of seclusion and self-denial fell away towards the 16th century.  Guests, who were not expected to pay for their upkeep, were always a drain on popular monastic establishments, and alms to the poor still had to be paid.  Expenses too accrued from the management of extensive estates, including wages for bailiffs and labourers, repairs to buildings and boundaries, and the costs involved in agricultural production.  Churches appropriated by the monastery for their incomes still involved costs, including the provision of an incumbent priest.  St Werburgh’s was often involved in legal disputes with Chester citizens, and this too was costly.  After the stricter earlier middle ages, standards began to slip in Benedictine monasteries.  Abbots rolled out ambitious extension plans for the monastic church, and required larger and more luxurious  quarters, which included spaces where VIP guests could be lavishly entertained, costly vanity projects that formed part of their legacy.  Provisions became more luxurious and more expensive.  The upkeep of a vast monastic architectural complex could be eye-watering, even without the occasional devastating fire or flood.  Balancing the books was a constant headache for monastic establishments.

Cripples collecting healing oil at the shrine of St William of York, York Minster, North Choir Transept. Early 15th century. Source: The Becket Story (© Dean & Chapter York).

By the later middle ages, when imaginative ways of generating income were increasingly critical to monastic wellbeing, pilgrims were a great way of generating income.  Pilgrimages were usually journeys of meaning, sometimes deeply spiritual and personal, characterized by any number of aspirations including cures for illnesses and defects, expressions of penitence, a wish to feel the presence of something holy, and the urge to give thanks for a prayer answered;  but pilgrimages could also be timed to enjoy feasts, fairs and markets, and as such were not merely pious and spiritual, but could be a sociable and enjoyable liberation from the mundane.  When pilgrims visited shrines, tombs and reliquaries to satisfy personal needs, the monastery expected pilgrims to show their gratitude to the saint and to Heaven by gifting a contribution to the monastic coffers in the form of “altarage.”  This was usually money, but sometimes it took the form of valuable gifts.  

Clusters of shrines were good news for everyone.  Pilgrims to a particular shrine would frequently do the rounds of all the other major religious sites and shrines in the immediate area, as well as those further afield in the region, soaking up all the divinity available.  In Chester itself, St Werburgh’s shrine was in competition with the miracle-performing Holy Rood (a sculpture of Christ on the cross) in St John’s the Baptist’s Church (next to the amphitheatre), which was reputed to  include a piece of the true cross, reputed to have been found by Helen, the mother of the Emperor Constantine.  It was installed in around 1250.  Although St Werburgh became a secondary attraction after this date, the rood at St John’s was far better known and carried more weight because the power of the crucifix of Christ himself was rather more compelling to pilgrims than an Anglo-Saxon saint.  It was to the Holy Rood of St John’s that Edward I took the nobility of Gwynedd men to swear fealty before himself and God. 

The glorious 15th century vaulting above the clear water of the inner reservoir of St Winifrede’s Well, Holywell.

Some shrines were more revered than others and had great pulling power, which could generate satisfying levels of income.  The ownership of St Winifrede’s Well in Holywell (northeast Wales), for example, alternated between St Werburgh’s Abbey and Basingwerk Abbey just down the hill from the well, depending on whether the English or Welsh were in control of the area, and this represented a useful form of income for whichever abbey was in command of its resources.  It is also probable that many of the pilgrims visiting Chester were en route to the Cathedral of St Asaph (Llanelwy), which contained the 6th century relics of the eponymous saint, renowned for his healing miracles, and St Winifrede’s sacred Well, enclosed by some superb gothic architecture.  These were located 28 (45km) and 14 miles (22km) away from Chester respectively, and 16 miles (26km) from each other.  The east-west pilgrim route between Holywell and St Asaph was well known by the later medieval period, making use of the Deva-Varis-Canovium-Segontium (Chester to Caernarfon) Roman road, which was crossed by Offa’s Dyke and took in the beautifully carved late 10th century Maen Achyfan cross, which still stands today.  At St Winefrede’s Well, the nearby Cistercian monks of Basingwerk Abbey provided all the facilities that the pilgrims might need to make the most of the experience.  The 7th century saint’s remains had actually been removed to Shrewsbury Abbey in 1138, but Holywell was the site of the miracle in which she died by beheading and was brought back to life, and was imbued with miraculous potency.  

A selection of Medieval and post-Medieval pilgrim badges. Source: British Museum

Because pilgrims travelled to specific shrines, it is easy to think of pilgrimages exclusively in terms of destinations, but the act of making a pilgrimage was as much about the journey as the destination, and pilgrim routes could be both sociable experiences shared with like-minded individuals, and essential to the spiritual character of the undertaking.  As pilgrim routes became fixed in the religious round, they became special places in the landscape, with identities of their own, and features that singled them out as part of the greater network of pilgrim experience.

Although St Werburgh’s Abbey  would undoubtedly have preferred to be the most important of the local shrines, and would have done its best to attract pilgrims, it certainly benefited from the proximity of more fashionable and perhaps more relatable pilgrim destinations nearby, and the network of routes that connected them.  The 14th century shrine was almost certainly built to jump on the bandwagon of pilgrim visits to Chester, and to provide a more impressive and inclusive experience for pilgrims, without losing the connection with the Anglo-Saxon past. 

St Thomas Becket pilgrim badge. Source: Museum of London

There are no records surviving from St Werburgh’s to indicate what sort of income the monastery derived from pilgrims, but nearby  St John the Baptist’s Holy Rood was the second most important source of three primary sources of income for the church, amounting to in excess of £50.00 per annum in the 14th century (the National Archives Currency Convertor equates this, for 1350, to £29,361 in modern money or, for example, 72 horses or 135 cows.  This is half the value of the nationally important Ethelreda’s shrine at Ely, which in 1408/9 earned £19 9s 10d, and is a drop in the ocean to what St Thomas Becket’s shrines could attract from both British and western European pilgrims:  £120 in 1411 and a staggering £360 in the Jubilee year of 1420, which equates to day to around £231,483, which could have purchased 83 horses or 620 cows. St Winifrede’s Well earned an annual revenue by the time of the Reformation of £157 15s 2d, which probably included the sale of indulgences.

Altarage was also payable on saints feast days by anyone attending the celebration.  For St Werburgh, this day was 3rd February.  Again, we have no records for St Werburgh, but at Selby Abbey in Yorkshire, which held a shrine of St Germain, the festival of the Burial of St German on the 1st October in 1446-1447 earned the abbey 16s.8d., and the offerings for the festival of the Death of the saint on 31st July earned 6s.  The money-box (stipite) of St Germain accumulated £9. 14s 10d for the year.  Again, these were useful contributions to an abbey’s financial resources, amounting to £6790 in modern money, which would purchase 14 horses or 27 cows.

St Werburgh’s would have been a long way down the pilgrimage and altarage income scale, but the earnings would still have been valuable.

How pilgrim badges were made, sold, worn and used

St Werburgh’s pilgrim badges being made in stone moulds. Photograph by Colin Torode of Lionheart Replicas, with my thanks to Colin for sending it to me.

Before badges were available, pilgrims might collect earth from around a shrine, or chip of small pieces off the shrine itself.  Small vessels could be used to carry holy water or oils.  Low-cost badges were a far more satisfying and permanent memento of a pilgrimage successfully undertaken, and first appear during the 12th century.  Decorated metal ampullae too, were manufactured to hold liquids, but in smaller numbers.  Wealthier pilgrims might order a custom-made item, which might be made of a more expensive material, but the less expensive materials are by far the most frequently represented in museum and personal collections.  By the 15th century they might cost as little as a penny for twelve.  One of the appealing aspects of the pilgrim badges is that the majority that survive today were clearly made for those who did not have much surplus cash to spend on souvenirs.

A selection of pilgrim badges. Source: The Digital Pilgrim website.

The badges were cast in moulds, which would have required careful crafting.  The mould was usually made of stone, preferably limestone.  A liquid alloy was poured into it to set, usually comingling lead with either pewter or tin.  Lead was locally available, and the other ores were inexpensive and could be imported.  Once solidified, the object was removed from its mould, trimmed, polished and was then ready to sell.  The photograph above  shows one of Colin Torode’s stone moulds, in use for making St Werburgh pilgrim badges for Lionheart Historical Pewter Replicas, which sells many replica pilgrim badges (I have their lovely St Werburgh geese-in-the-basket).  See the brief video by the Digital Pilgrims Project at the end of the post to see how some of these objects were made.

The pilgrim badges were sold at the abbey gates, or in stalls in town markets.  If purchased before a visit to the shrine, the pilgrim badge could be touched to the shrine, so that it would permeate the badge itself with its spiritual energy.  It could then be dipped into a liquid to be swallowed as a health cure or rubbed onto a wound as a salve.  Given its portability, it could also be carried back to someone who was unfit to make the pilgrimage so that they could benefit from the power of the shrine.

The pilgrim badges were usually worn with great pride, sewn on to items of outer clothing like hats or coats, or on bags.  Over time, as they became familiar and were transferred from old to new clothing, they probably became apotropaic lucky talismans, as well as items of religious meaning.  Sometimes they were pinned to walls of homes.

The Dissolution and subsequent events

The opening page of the Valor Ecclesiasticus, the beginning of the Dissolution of the monasteries, showing Henry VIII presiding over the nation’s extaordinary religious shake-up. Source: Wikipedia

Although Henry VIII ordered the dissolution of the abbey in 1536, its conversion into a cathedral saved it from wholescale destruction.  Although it retained most of its key components, some features fell victim to reformers.  Henry VIII’s withdrawal from the Catholic church was only realistically viable because of a movement in Europe that challenged what it saw as the papal hierarchy’s abuse of the core ideals of Christianity.  In 1517, nearly 20 years before the Dissolution, Martin Luther at the University of Wittenberg in Germany, disgusted by the financial corruption of the papacy and the clergy, began to  promote the emergence of a more honest, less moderated religion in which men and women could worship in their homes as well as in their churches and build a more direct relationship with Christ and God.  The existence of Purgatory was rejected, the appeal to saints for their intercession was deemed idolatrous, religious images that had been the focal points of worship were condemned, and the role of the clergy as a bridge between people and God was challenged.

In England the reform movement was politically and socially necessary both  to usher in Henry’s new era and to avoid the new religious house being labelled heretical.  Using Martin Luther’s reforming as a launch pad, an older, purer version of religion was sought.  As part of the process, effigies and saints were to be removed with extreme prejudice.  Targets of this reforming zeal included emblems of the later Anglo-Saxon period as well as those of the medieval period.  The 14th century shrine of St Werburgh really did not stand a chance.  The shrine was dismantled and parts were used to build a tomb for the first bishop.  Later, in 1635, elements were incorporated into an episcopal throne.

St Werburgh’s shrine in the 19th century

Sir Arthur William Blomfield at his drawing board. Source: Falklandsbiographies.org

When some pieces of the shrine were rediscovered in the 19th century, Sir Arthur Blomfield attempted a reconstruction, which is what stands in the Lady Chapel today.  The small statues of the Saxon kings do survive, but their heads are missing;  of the little figures that adorned it, only a dog scratching its ear with a hind leg now survives.  It was reassembled in the Lady Chapel.

Although St Werburgh no longer attracts pilgrims, the well of St Winefrede at Holywell, near Basingwerk Abbey on the north Wales coast, still does.  Although more usual in Catholic parts of Europe than in Anglican Britain, pilgrimage continues to offer the option of a spiritual journey today, and pilgrim badges continue to be collected by those who make the journey.  The gift shop at St Winifrede’s well contains a wide and colourful selection of religious memorabilia. See the Encountering a Pilgrim’s Medal video at the end of the post for comments on a modern pilgrim badge.

From Harry Cureton to the British Museum

There’s one last thread to the story.  According to the British Museum’s records, in 1836 it purchased the badge at the top of this post from one Henry (Harry) Osborne Cureton who conducted his trade in London variously as a curiosity dealer, a medallist and coin dealer.   In the February 1851 edition of the Athenaeum an advert was placed, announcing that Cureton’s entire stock was being sold off due to his retirement. The British Museum’s web page about Harry Cureton suggests that that after this he may have been employ in some capacity at the Museum.  If the British Museum was one of the buyers of the collection advertised in the Athenaeum, Cureton may have been hired to catalogue the objects, of which the St Werburgh pilgrim badge may have been one.

Athenaeum no.1215, February 8th 1851 advert by Messrs S. Leigh Sotheby and John Wilkinson for the sale at auction of Harry Osborn Cureton’s stock of coins, medals and antiquities. Source:  Google Books

The badge is not on display at the British Museum, which is a shame but not terribly surprising.  As the British Museum’s Fact Sheet explains, it’s collection totals at least 8 million objects, of which roughly roughly 80,000 (1%) are on public display at any one time, the rest remaining in storage.

Just as one expects pilgrims to travel, one expects pilgrim badges to travel.  Margery Kempe, early 14th century wife, mother of fourteen children, visionary and pilgrim, managed to fit in pilgrimages to the Holy Land via Italy, to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, and to Danzig in Prussia.  We have no idea where the owner of the St Werburgh badge might have worn it on his or her travels, but it is not at all surprising to find that it ended its travels in London.

Final Comments

1916 window in St Werburgh’s in the refectory, showing an imaginative, romantic view of the saint. Photograph by Wolfgang Sauber. Source: Wikipedia

This post started with an image of geese in a basket, an emblem of St Werburgh that was cast and sold to pilgrims as a totem of their enterprising pilgrimage to the shrine of a Mercian princess, St Werburgh, within the abbey at Chester. By exploring the connection between a 7th century saint who was buried in Staffordshire and a 10th century Mercian queen who translated (transferred) the remains of the saint to Chester, we encounter the Viking colonisation of Britain.  The new shrine containing the saint’s relics in Chester was a powerful new emblem of Christian faith, using affinity to the earlier Anglo-Saxon past to provide meaning and reassurance in the very turbulent present.

In 1093, when Hugh Lupus, first Earl of Chester decided to put his stamp on Chester and, at the same time, pave his way to a comfortable afterlife by founding an impressive Benedictine monastery, the saint was provided with a new home, echoing Æthelflæd’s own intentions.  St Werburgh’s original Anglo-Saxon shrine was built to evoke both the past and the present, using history to provide a sense of continuity and stability as Chester entered a new era.  Some of this sense of the present being reinforced by the past was carried forward into the 14th century shrine as well.  St Werburgh went on to generate income for the monastery throughout the middle ages.    

Pilgrims on the road to Canterbury. John Lydgate’s Prologue of the Siege of Thebes c. 1457–1460: Royal MS 18 D II, f. 148r.Few pilgrimages would have been so comfortably and elegantly undertaken.  Source:  British Library

A pilgrim badge, even if it was mass-produced and relatively inexpensive, was an attractive symbol, and one to wear with pride, but was not merely an inanimate souvenir.  By touching it to the shrine, it became a conduit of spirituality, transmitting the essence, goodness and potentially curative powers of the saint within.  In an era in which Christ was universally accepted as being embedded in the Eucharist via transubstantiation, a Church-given reality, the idea of objects like pilgrim badges as agents of transformation was not a theoretical matter but another everyday Christian reality.  Intrinsically the badge had an active, multi-functional role as a medium of the shrine’s essence, and as a symbol of hope, piety, charity, perseverance and / or status. The medieval period offered pilgrims a fluid, multi-layered religious existence in which, if they were deserving, the secular and spiritual could mingle in certain places under certain conditions.  In a sense, whilst the shrine cannot be divided and shared, the pilgrim badge, the emblem of the shrine and sometimes the vessel holding the essence of the shrine, is a way of dividing the shrine infinitely amongst those who invested it with their beliefs and hopes.

Detail of St Werburgh’s shrine

The static 14th century shrine and the multiple, travelling pilgrim badges were firmly linked.  The shrine, unmoving, connected to a long-lost Anglo-Saxon past, was rooted to its particular spot. The pilgrim badges, by contrast, were all about the here and now, both for the craftsmen who made them and for the visiting pilgrims who purchased them.  The shrine would have existed without the pilgrim badges, but the badges were dependent on both the shrine and the pilgrims.  Whilst the memory was alive, the badge containing the memory remained a connected to the shrine via the pilgrim.  The shrine, acting as the anchor for such experiences, stayed firmly put, but its tendrils extended into the secular world via the tales told by the pilgrims who had visited, encouraging others to replicate the experience. 

At some point, the pilgrim badge was parted from the pilgrim.  Perhaps the pilgrim died and it was inherited by one of his or her children.  Later in its history it encountered another point of departure and re-entered into the world of commercial transactions.  Eventually, it found its way into the ownership of a dealer in portable objects, like medals and coins, and in the 1860s was accessioned into the collection of the British Museum, where it is now buried in storage.  Perhaps one day it will emerge to perform a role as a piece of valued heritage, but for the time being, it is divorced from any of the realities that it once served. 

St Werburgh’s replica pilgrim badge made by Lionheart Historical Pewter Replicas (photograph from their website)

Quite apart from looking great on my favourite black coat, my own replica St Werburgh’s badge (shown right) can be seen as an aspect of the St Werburgh shrine’s new identity.  Today the shrine finds itself as part of the discussion about modern contexts, including conservation, tourism, academic research and local history, where current perspectives reinvent churches, cathedrals and shrines in many different, novel ways, and contribute to ongoing narratives.  My newly purchased badge has become part of that ongoing story.  It’s a nice thought.  The reassembled shrine in the Lady Chapel does not contain St Werburgh’s relics, but the saint remains irrefutably embedded into the fabric of the cathedral and is central to its identity.

—–_______—


Videos:

Why did St Werburgh of Chester Resurrect a Goose?

By Dr Thomas Pickles, University of Chester

—-
Video: Metal Casting – Pilgrim Badge

By the Digital Pilgrims Project


Video
modern pilgrim token from Pilgrim Flask page

Piers Baker-Bates of the Open University talks about the value of his own pilgrimage memento

Click to play. Source: Open University

Staffordshire Moments: St Werburgh’s story

A tongue-in-cheek but remarkably effective version of St Werburgh’s story.

 


Sources:

Books and papers

Blair, J. 2005. The Church in Anglo-Saxon Society. Oxford University Press

Bond, J. 2010.  Monastic Landscapes. The History Press

Bradshaw, H. 1513 (edited and republished by Horstmann, C. 1887).  The Life of St Werberge of Chester. The Early English Text Society
https://ia800208.us.archive.org/23/items/lifeofsaintwerbu00braduoft/lifeofsaintwerbu00braduoft.pdf

Burne, R.V.H. 1962.  The Monks of Chester. The History of St Werburgh’s Abbey. SPCK

Clarke, C.  2011.  Remembering Anglo-Saxon Mercia in late medieval and early modern Chester. In Clarke, C. (ed.) Mapping Medieval Chester: place and identity in an English borderland city c.1200-1500, p.201-218

Varnam, L. 2013. Sanctity and the City. Sacred Space in Henry Bradshaw,’s Life of St Werburge. In Clarke, C. (ed.) Mapping Medieval Chester: place and identity in an English borderland city c.1200-1500, p.114-130

Claassen, C. 2011.  Waning pilgrimage paths and modern roadscapes: moving through  landscape in northern Guerrero, Mexico. World Archaeology, vol.43, iss.3, p.493-504

Clarkson, T. 2018. Æthelflæd. The Lady of the Mercians. John Donald

Hahn, H.P. and Weiss, H. 2013. Introduction:  Biographies, travels and itineraries of things.  In Hahn, H.P and Weiss, H. (eds.) Mobility, Meaning and Transformations of Things.  Shifting contexts of material culture through time and space. Oxbow Books

Hicklin, J. 1852.  A History of Chester Cathedral with biographical notices of the Bishops and Deans. George Prichard

Jones, D. 1957. The Church in Chester 1300-1540. Chetham Society

Garland, L.M. 2005. Aspects of Welsh Saints’ Cults and Pilgrimage c.1066-1530.  Unpublished PhD, Kings College London

Gilchrist, R. 2013. The materiality of medieval heirlooms:  From biographical to sacred objects.  In Hahn, H.P and Weiss, H. (eds.) Mobility, Meaning and Transformations of Things.  Shifting contexts of material culture through time and space. Oxbow Books

Goscelin de St-Bertin 1974 (N. J. Munday, translator). The Life of St. Werburg by Goscelin.  Friends of Chester Cathedral

Kempe, M. (translated with introduction by Windeatt, B. 1985) The Book of Margery Kempe.  Penguin Classics

Locker, M.D. 2015.  Landscapes of Pilgrimage in Medieval Britain.  Archaeopress

Lynch, J.H. 1992. The Medieval Church. A Brief History. Longman.

Mason, D. 2007.  Chester AD400-1066. From Roman Fortress to English Town. Tempus

Moreland, J. 2010.  Archaeology, Theory and the Middle Ages.  Understanding the Early Medieval Past.  Duckworth.

Schmoelz, M. 2017. Pilgrimage in medieval East Anglia. A regional survey of the shrines and pilgrimages of Norfolk and Suffolk. Unpublished PhD, University of East Anglia

Tillotson, J.H. 1988.  Monastery and Society in the Late Middle Ages.  Selected Account Rolls from Selby Abbey, Yorkshire 1398-1537. The Boydell Press

Turner Camp, C. 2011. Inventing the Past in Henry Bradshaw’s ‘Life of St Werburge’, Exemplaria, vol.23, iss.3, p244-267

Webb, D. 2000.  Pilgrimage in Medieval England. Hambledon and London

Whitehead, A. 2020.  Mercia. The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom. Amberley

Websites

The Becket Story
Medieval pilgrimage
https://thebecketstory.org.uk/

British Library – Medieval Manuscripts Blog
Pilgrimages: Medieval Summer Holidays?  By Chantry Westwell 29th July 2018
https://blogs.bl.uk/digitisedmanuscripts/2018/07/pilgrimages-medieval-summer-holidays.html

British Museum
St Werburgh Pilgrim Badge 1836,061.73
https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/H_1836-0610-73
Fact Sheet: British Museum Collection
https://www.britishmuseum.org/sites/default/files/2019-10/fact_sheet_bm_collection.pdf
Harry Osborn Cureton
https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/term/BIOG67986

The Electronic Sawyer
Online Catalogue of Anglo-Saxon Charters
https://esawyer.lib.cam.ac.uk/about/index.html

Kemble – The Anglo-Saxon Charters Website
Chester
http://dk.robinson.cam.ac.uk/node/25

Mapping Medieval Chester
Henry Bradshaw, Life of St Werburge by Catherine Clarke 2008
https://www.medievalchester.ac.uk/texts/introbradshaw.html

Medieval London
Pilgrim Badge
https://medievallondon.ace.fordham.edu/collections/show/28

Museum of London
Medieval pilgrim souvenirs
https://collections.museumoflondon.org.uk/online/group/19998.html

Paul Mellon Centre
The Digital Pilgrim Project
https://www.paul-mellon-centre.ac.uk/whats-on/forthcoming/digital-pilgrim-project
and sketchfab.com/britishmuseum/collections/digital-pilgrim

The Pilgrims Guide
Thomas Becket Badges: Developments and Interpretations of His Cult since the Twelfth Century
thepilgrimsguide.com/projects/thomas-becket-badges-developments-and-interpretations-of-his-cult-since-the-twelfth-century/

University of London. Department of History of Art
The Digital Pilgrim Project
https://www.hoart.cam.ac.uk/research/past-projects/the-digital-pilgrim-project

 

Objects from my Garden #12: Maker’s mark on a piece of flow blue ware by S.W. Dean, Burslem

Both sides of the broken sherd

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

This maker’s mark, crossing all three sherds, was a happy find for me, because although we have dug up tons of broken china from the garden (which is in Churton, a few miles south of Chester), all of it interesting in its own way, few of the manufacturers can be identified.  This piece, with a company trademark on one side and part of the pattern on the other, contains the name both of the manufacturer and the design.

Re-assembled, the original sherd is 9cm long and 3.5cm wide.  The potter’s mark is split over three broken pieces.  The clean breaks and pure what fabric that divided the sherd into three means that it was broken when one of us found it whilst gardening, with spade or pick-axe, straight through the middle.  Fitting the three pieces together to form a single piece leaves the much grubbier original break around the former edges.  The spidery cracks in the glaze, called crazing, have also allowed the garden earth to seep into the fabric.

Flip it over, and there are parts of the floral pattern on the reverse, a deliberately blurred design referred to as “flow blue,” about which more below.  Interestingly, the other images I have seen of this particular design, “Forget Me Not,” are not in flow, but are very clearly delineated, as shown in the example further below, where the design is in green.

What are we looking at in the manufacturer’s mark?  Starting at the top is a crown sitting over the top of a Staffordshire Knot.  This knot is a traditional symbol of Staffordshire and the town of Stafford, first used by the Stafford family in the 15th century.  The words within the circle read “England’s S.W. Dean Burslem,” which encircle a seated greyhound, part of the company’s trademark, and damaged with dark scratches in this piece.  In the banner (or swag) below this, and illegible here, this clearly reads on other examples “Royal Semi China” and beneath that is the design name “FORGET-ME-NOT” and the manufacturer’s registration number:  RºNº350600.  This mark is much clearer in the example shown below, which shows the same design applied using a different technique.

Green version of the S.W. Dean Forget-Me-Not pattern and trademark. Photos by Letsgoexplorin64 Source: Etsy.

S.W. Dean of the Newport Pottery, Burslem, in Staffordshire was the manufacturer.  Samuel Webster Dean had been the chairman of ceramics manufacturer in Edge, Malkin & Co., which started life as Cork and Edge in Burslem, making teapots and operated from 1846 to 60) before going through various changes in partnership.  When it closed in 1906, Dean declared an interest, and eventually took over the company in 1909, renaming it S.W. Dean. The greyhound at the heart of the maker’s mark was carried over from Edge & Malkin & Co, which had used it between 1873 and 1903.   The new company still operated out of Burselm at the Newport Works, and its products were probably sold in a number of retail outlets.  The company also appointed agents to sell its products at sales events in hotels in major cities, probably for bulk sales into retail and export.  In the advert below an event at the Holborn Viaduct Hotel in London as announced.  There are examples of the type of products that the company produced on the A-Z of Stoke on Trent Potters website.  S.W. Dean ran into financial problems very quickly, and Samuel Dean was declared bankrupt in June 1910.  Although the advert below mentions an export market, it seems unlikely that there was sufficient time for this to get fully underway before the company closed.

Advert from the Pottery Gazette of October 1908. Source: A-Z of Stoke On Trent Potters

Later in 1910, S.W. Dean was in turn purchased, and a new company was registered by J.D. Kerr.  Kerr clearly thought that the Dean name had enough brand recognition amongst potential purchasers of the ceramics to retain the name, because the new company became Deans (1910) Ltd.  A greyhound was retained in the log, but was on all fours, instead of seated, and was shown standing on an open crown.

The pattern side, showing the Forget-Me-Not design

The style and technique used on this pottery is called flow  blue, and is a form of transferware.  Transferware is a very swift way of transferring a design to the surface of an object. A copperplate engraved with the required design was inked, in this case with deep blue cobalt oxide, and pressed on to paper that, while still wet, was in turn pressed on to a ceramic surface.  The design left on the piece of pottery is the transfer.  With a complete object, the overlap between the transfers is usually visible as a seam, but this piece is too small to show this.  The process speeded up the process of decorating ceramics, making them much less expensive to produce than hand-painted wares, permitting mass production, and creating cost-savings that were passed on to the customer.  

The particular characteristic of flow blue is the appearance of blurred edges, giving them a soft and blousy look, quite unlike the precision of the green example of the same design above.  When the pot was ready for a second firing, after the transfer design had been fixed into place, a flow-powder was added to the kiln.  A typical mixture was 22% salt, 40% white lead, 30% calcium carbonate, and 8% borax, but there were variants.  This gave off a chlorine gas which caused the cobalt in the transfer to diffuse into the glaze, creating the flow effect and the intense blue glow.

The Newport Works in Burslem, Staffordshire, where S.W. Dean’s pottery production was based. Source: A-Z of Stoke On Trent Potters

Flow blue appears from about 1830.  Whether the effect was originally accidental or deliberate, it soon became very popular, first in the U.S., exported from Staffordshire factories, and later in Britain’s own households.  During the Napoleonic Wars of 1803-15, the U.S. had become Britain’s most important export market until the onset of the American Civil War in 1860.  The Registration of Design Act of 1842, which prevented factories from copying each others patterns without permission, resulted in new patterns, and sometimes specialization in particular types of design. By the mid 1800s British manufacturers were producing a variety of different genres, including more traditionally Victorian rural, garden and specifically floral designs, many of them very romanticized.  The forget-me-not is a good example of a flower chosen because of its popularity in Victorian gardens and poems.

Flow blue from the garden, with the forget-me-not sherd both centre bottom on the plate, and on its own on the right

A lot of flow blue has come out of the garden, but nearly all of it in very small pieces.  A sort through them has only found one piece that is consistent with the Forget-Me-Knot design, a very thin rim piece, much thinner than the pieces shown above.  It may or may not come from the same item, perhaps thinning towards the edge, but it could also be a sherd from a different part of the same set.  Some of the other pieces of flow blue display a characteristic feathering along the rims of ceramics, none of these gilded, although many feathered edges were.  Those shown here are a selection of the bits pulled out of the garden, including the Forget-Me-Not rim piece.

Other object histories from my garden can be found 
on the History in Garden Objects page


Sources:

Books and papers

Neale, G. 2005. Encyclopedia of British Transfer-Printed Pottery Patterns 1790-1930.  Miller’s

Websites

The A-Z of Stoke On Trent Potteries
S.W. Dean

http://www.thepotteries.org/allpotters/347a.htm

The Glossop Cabinet of Curiosities
The Rough Guide to Pottery Pt.5 – Blue and White Bits.
https://glossopcuriosities.wordpress.com/2022/09/15/the-rough-guide-to-pottery-pt-5-blue-and-white-bits/

HobbyLark
Flow Blue: History and Value of Blue-and-White Antique China, by Dolores Monet, December 23rd 2022
https://hobbylark.com/collecting/FlowBlueHowtoIDandValuetheCollectibleBlueandWhiteAntiqueChina

House of Brinson
Transferware and Flow Blue
https://houseofbrinson.com/2021/04/28/thoughts-on-transferware-and-flow-blue/#:~:text=If%20you%20see%20a%20blue,were%20widely%20sold%20in%20America.

 

Mike Royden’s history of the White Horse pub in Churton

The White Horse public house in Churton, some 20 minutes south of Chester and a few minutes north of Farndon and Holt has been closed since the pandemic, but has been the source of some heavy-duty activity over the last few months, thanks to the efforts of its new owner Gary Usher and his crowd-funding business model.

Mike Royden, whose massive and seriously impressive website about Farndon and its environs, Royden History, is one of the best of the region’s history resources, has added a history of the White Horse to his site, with terrific images and explanatory text, tracing not just the history of the building but its various incumbents too.  Buildings are far easier to trace than the people associated with them, and this really is a great piece of work using primary sources.  Marvellous detective work and a very good read.  Whether you are interested in Churton’s history or just the White Horse itself, Mike’s history of the White Horse can be found at the following page:

http://www.roydenhistory.co.uk/farndon/buildings/pubs/whitehorse_churton/whitehorse_churton.htm

It was a real eye-opener to see the 1895 photo of the pub’s thatched predecessor, as well as the completely bizarre photograph of the Red Lion, a former Churton pub, in one of its previous incarnations.  Thank you Mike!

I took the pics below in February 2022, when the future of the White Horse was very much up in the air.  It is great to see it all looking so trim and tidy.

White Horse images from February 2022

The latest chapter in the pub’s history begins when it opens on 3rd March 2023, and I am very much looking forward to taking it for a test drive.  Here’s a copy of their sample menu (also snaffled, with sincere thanks, from Mike’s page above).

For more details about the White Horse and its menu, the website is at thewhitehorsechurton.co.uk, which also has links to their Instagram, Facebook and X (formerly Twitter) accounts.

 

A 6th-7th Century Egyptian Pilgrim Flask found at Meols, Wirral

Introduction to the Meols pilgrim flask

The Meols Pilgrim Flask, now in the Grosvenor Museum, Chester (GM 43. M.56). Source of photograph: Pilgrims and Posies blog

Flipping through Peter Carrington’s book Chester when it arrived on my doorstep a year or so ago, I was surprised to see a black and white photograph of something both very familiar and exceedingly unexpected: an Egyptian pilgrim flask originally from the shrine of the Coptic Christian St Menas in Egypt.  Only 98mm tall, it was manufactured during the 6th-7th century in northern Egypt. It was almost certainly purchased at the desert shrine of St Mena, 45km to the southwest of Alexandria.

It was found on the Wirral at Meols (pronounced mells) by a local man digging for lugworms in 1955, in a peat layer 61cm (2ft) below the sand 274m (300 yards) off Dove Point.  For those unfamiliar with the local geography, there’s a map at the end of the post.  The flask was donated to the Grosvenor Museum in Chester.  Although the location site consists of nothing but sand dunes today, it was formerly inhabited.  Griffiths and his colleagues, in their 2007 monograph on Meols, describe the 19th century investigations of this strip of land:

The eroding sand-dunes not only produced an enormous body of small finds, but also
traces of buildings (the records of which are now unfortunately lost) and stumps of trees from the old ground surface. The numerous artefacts include, as well as many mundane objects, exotic pieces of high quality.

Today, the same team interpret early Meols (from the Norse meaning sand-hills) as a possible “beach market or port.”

Unsurprisingly, given the time that the pilgrim flask must have spent in the sand, the surface of the flask it is badly abraded and is slightly damaged.  In the photograph on the left it looks as though it has a handle and spout, but in fact the “spout” was a twin handle, by which the vessel could be held in two hands, or threaded through a belt or chord for carrying.  There is also some slight damage to the body of the vessel itself.  It was not the most skilfully manufactured item, and was probably one of the less expensive examples on offer to the purchaser, but given its find-site is remarkably well preserved.

Although difficult to make out, the front of the vessel shows a scene consisting of the Roman-Egyptian St Menas flanked by two camels, about which more in a moment.  There are photos of better preserved versions of the same scene below.  I haven’t found a diagram or photograph of the reverse of the flask, but Griffiths et al describe it as follows: “The righthand part of the circular field has short radiating spokes from the frame. The design is very abraded and unclear, but appears to have a long curving design.” 

Thompson’s figure 3, showing a sketch of the Meols flask at the time of its discovery. Source: Journal of the Chester Archaeological Society, volume 53, 1956

Material of the same period (6th-7th century AD) is found in the general area, confined to a short stretch at the top of the Wirral peninsula, producing over 100 artefacts, from both Roman and post-Roman objects, including Late Saxon and Anglo-Scandinavian material.  Following its discovery in 1955 the find was reported very briefly by F.H. Thompson in the Miscellanea section of the Journal of the Chester Archaeological Society in 1956, accompanied by a sketch, and a description of the context in which it was found:

Although the coastal site of Meols, near Hoylake, is not now so prolific of antiquities as in the days when the Rev. A. Hume could devote a whole book to cataloguing the Romano-British, Saxon and mediaeval finds made there, single specimens are occasionally recovered.

The pilgrim flask is a well known form of vessel, and examples are found all over Egypt, and in Nubia.  Fewer numbers have been found outside Egypt, most of them in the eastern Mediterranean.  They are characterized by a lentoid (lens-shaped) body, narrow neck and twin handles, connecting the neck of the vessel to the main body. They seem to have been fitted with stoppers made from mud and other materials.  The Meols example is 98mm high from lip to base.  The body is 65mm wide, and the neck 35mmwide. The thickness of the pottery never exceeds 18mm.  The neck and arms were added to the body after the manufacture of the vessel’s body, and there was not a great deal of skill demonstrated in its production.  Much finer examples survive.

St Menas pilgrim flask from Preston on the Hill, Cheshire, now in Norton Priory Museum. Source: Griffiths et al 2007

The Meols pilgrim flask is not unique in England.  Norton Priory Museum, near Warrington, has a collection of pilgrim tokens, one of which is a pilgrim flask from the shrine of St Menas, which was found in the Norton Priory area at Preston-on-the-Hill, shown left.  It is missing its handles and neck. When the neck and handles are added on afterwards, the joints are a common point of failure.  The Preston-on-the-Hill flask has a much clearer image of Menas and the camels and is framed with text, which is a blessing of St Menas.  It was found during construction work for a new housing estate, and it is by no means clear how it got there.  Other examples with a comparable date have been found elsewhere in England, including Durham, York, Derby, Baldock in Hertfordshire, Faversham and Canterbury.  Although they are not unique, they are certainly not common.  None, for example, have yet been found in Wales, Ireland or Scotland, although other contemporary Mediterranean objects have.

Who was St Menas?

St Menas was an early Christian saint dating to the Roman period who died in around the year 300AD.  Christianity was introduced into Egypt, traditionally by St Mark, and became well established during the 2nd and early 3rd centuries in the multi-ethnic city of Alexandria on the Mediterranean coast.  During the 541 Council of Chalcedon differences about theological understanding of the nature of Christ caused the Coptic Church of Egypt to split from Rome, and to establish its own clerical administration with its own pope, which it retains today.  St Menas is part o the Coptic Christian tradition.

Pilgrim flask of St Menas at the British Museum, findspot unknown. BM1875,1012.16. Source: British Museum

There are a number of versions of the story of St Menas, and it is likely that the stories of St Menas and St Gordius were conflated into a single story.  Probably the most popular  version is that Menas was martyred in Phrygia, possibly during the reign of Diocletian in the 3rd Century for wishing to give up service in the Roman army to become a hermit in the service of God.  Egypt had a tradition of eremitical worship in the desert, most famously represented by St Paul of Thebes (died c.345) and his follower St Antony (died c.356).  The soldiers who killed Menas tried to burn his body but it remained unharmed.  Pope Athanasius of Alexandria was visited by an angel who told him to take Menas into the desert for burial. Menas was carried on either one or two camels, and when the camel/s suddenly stopped and refused to go further, it was taken as a sign that he should be buried at the spot. A spring erupted into life where he was buried.  The grave was forgotten until the 4th century.  The story is that it was rediscovered by a shepherd when a wounded sheep submerged itself in the spring and was cured.  As the shepherd continued to heal his sheep in the spring, the story began to spread.  According to the legend Constantine the Great sent his daughter, afflicted with leprosy, to be cured.  Her recovery endowed the site with even greater acclaim. Not long afterwards the saint’s grave was discovered, and a church was erected at the site in the Mareotis area, now known as Abu Mena, located around 45km southwest of Alexandria.  The saint’s remains were transferred to the crypt.  It soon became a place of pilgrimage with a settlement around it catering to the expanding number pilgrims from both inside Egypt and beyond as news of the shrine continued to spread.  The site became renowned for its responsiveness to prayers, including the delivery of miraculous cures, becoming the largest pilgrimage destination in the eastern Mediterranean, and was considered to be a patron of desert caravans and merchants.

The Arab-Muslim Conquest of Egypt between 639-646AD caused considerable difficulty for the Coptic religion, and the site seems to have been destroyed at this time.  It was partially restored in the 8th century but underwent various reversals and seems to have gone out of fashion after the 10th century.  Excavations in the early 20th century, and then from the 1960s have uncovered the foundations of the church and the associated monastery.

Pyxis showing St Mena. British Museum 1879,1220.1. Source: British Museum

The saint was often shown on the pilgrim flasks flanked by camels wearing a short long-sleeved tunic, with a wide belt, military cloak, laced boots and raised arms in the “orans” posture, which is a gesture used by the clergy when praying with or on behalf of the congregation.  The British Museum has a flask (shown above) that is much less eroded than the Meols example, and depicts the same scene of the saint flanked by two camels.  It is more obviously similar to the Preston-on-the-Hill example, but lacks the inscription.  Most have a different scene on the reverse side, sometimes another saint, but often a more geometric pattern consisting of motifs, as in the Meols example, . 

Just for comparison, the ivory pyxis (cylindrical box) above left, dating to the 6th century, made in Egypt and found in Italy,  shows a much clearer and far more elaborate version of the scene.  On this side of the box St Menas is shown standing beneath an arch, representing a shrine, with his hands raised, flanked by two recumbent camels, and approached by worshippers. The reverse side shows his martyrdom. 

What were the pilgrim flasks used for?

The ruins of the early religious complex at Abu Mena. It included, amongst other things, two churches, a basilica, courts, hostels, baths, a baptistry and colonnades. Photo source: Wikipedia

Above all the Egyptian pilgrim flask was a personal expression of pilgrimage for the purchaser, serving a) as means of carrying a part of the divine with him or her, b) as the memento of a personally important and perhaps very remarkable journey and c) as a mechanism for advertising that the pilgrimage was undertaken.

Pilgrimage is a personal voyage, for reasons known only to the person making the journey.  Motivations can vary from an illness or disability afflicting the person making the pilgrimage, or afflicting someone else on whose behalf the pilgrimage is made, to a general need to demonstrate penitence, piety or fulfil another inner need. These little mementos contain more than hope – they contain something precious and beloved, a bridge between a person and his or her God, often  via the intercession of a benevolent saint to whom it was perhaps easier to relate.   Finds in Alexandria indicate that St Menas had a popular local following, and those further afield attest to his wider importance.  A long distance pilgrimage was an investment not only of financial cost, time and energy, but also time away from family, home and the means of making an income, so it involved sacrifice, without which perhaps the pilgrimage was probably much less significant.

The similarity between  the flasks, whether poorly- or well made indicates that they were mass-produced.  They were not special to the producer, except as a means of making income, but they were immensely special to the pilgrim.  Because the flasks were very small, between c.9 and 20cm tall, they were highly portable, and could be carried home even over very long distances without difficulty.  Pilgrimage sites today still sell little objects for visitors to take home.  Lourdes and Santiago de Compostella are two obvious examples, but at a visit to St Winifred’s well in Holywell, north Wales, I found that it too has a gift shop where you can purchase religiously-themed memorabilia.

Piers Baker-Bates of the Open University talks about the value of his own pilgrimage memento, helping to clarify the personal connection that people have with pilgrimage objects.  This is part of the transcript from a short video, which at the time of writing you can find on the OU site here:

This is the pilgrimage medal I had after I went to Santiago [de Compostela] in 1995. It’s just the ordinary cheap, lead model they sell in the tourist shops there, nothing special at all, but it was simply, if you like, my memento mori of the expedition.
It’s a scallop shell. The scallop shell has traditionally been the symbol of St James because it is a native of Galicia, which is the region of Spain where Santiago de Compostela is, and supposedly, according to legend, when his body was found it was surrounded by scallop shells, and this is therefore ever since been the symbol of the saint.  So you will not just see the scallop as an individual symbol, but if you look at churches, if you look at hospices, if you look at other buildings connected with St James, they all have somewhere on them the scallop shell because it is the symbol of the saint.

If the chain wasn’t broken I’d still wear it round my neck all the time and it serves to remind me of something I did and I would like to do again eventually.  If I was a medieval pilgrim, I’d have worn it in my hat, and you would have seen a wonderful selection of people who’d been to all the major shrines, who had a selection of these in their hats, so you’d have Jerusalem, Santiago de Compostela, Rome – they all had their own symbols. . .

Even though there are millions of these in the world, it still has meaning because it has meaning for me in particular, because it is particular to me, but also if someone else has one of their own, it will mean something to them. But at the same time, as a symbol, it means something to everyone, so when anyone looks at one of these they will recognise the symbol and understand what it means.

The vessel could contain the holy water of the well, the sand surrounding the shrine or liturgical oils.  Some vessels were more elaborate than others.  The Meols example, even though highly abraded, was probably never a very sophisticated piece of craftwork, meaning that the pilgrim who bought it probably had little spare money to spend.  In Egypt, nearly all the complete examples were found in funerary contexts, indicating that they were sufficiently significant to the living that they wished to meet the afterlife with their pilgrim flasks at their sides.

Precursors of the the pilgrim flask

Clay vessel dating to the New Kingdom, painted with concentric rings, now in the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology (UC66492). Source: Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology

The Coptic era pilgrim flasks were not an innovative form of pottery. The form emerged in the earlier New Kingdom (1550-1069BC).  These were in their turn were based on vessels imported from the Levant in the 18th Dynasty (1550-1295BC).  The form was soon taken up and copied by Egyptian potters who produced them for local demand.  They were usually manufactured in clay, like the later pilgrim flasks, and sometimes other materials including glass, faience, stone and even metal.  The early clay examples were frequently provided with a coloured slip and decoration that emulated the Near Eastern examples with concentric circles on each face. Kilroe suggests that the concentric circles were equivalent to branding, and that they were indicative of the contents of the flasks.  They grew in popularity in the 19th Dynasty (1295-1186BC), and became part of the potter’s repertoire from that point forward.  Their function was probably somewhat different from the later pilgrim flasks. One suggestion is that they were used for carrying valuable perfumed oils.

New Year flask from Egypt, now in the Walter’s Museum (48.419)

These were followed by so-called New Year’s flasks, which have the same basic shape, but with handles so small that they are merely decorative rather than functional.  The New Year’s flasks are often ornate and are usually made of faience, an expensive material exclusive to the elite.  New Year was one of the most important dates in the Egyptian calendar, marking the beginning of the Nile flood, which replenished the soil with fertile silts and saturated the land ready for germinating the seeds retained from the previous year’s harvest. Coinciding with the appearance in the night sky of the star Sirius, and closely associated with it, the new agricultural year was celebrated in an annual New Year festival called wep renpet meaning “opening of the year.”  During the Saite 26th Dynasty (c.664-535BC) New Year flasks became a particularly popular celebratory item.  They are found both in Egypt and abroad and are often decorated with papyrus and lily capitals.  The lug handles on the shoulders are often in the form of the deity Thoth, represented as a baboon, responsible for knowledge, wisdom and the calculation of time.  Nands of decoration around the body of the vessels and down the sides are also common. Many have hieroglyphs, often mentioning the wep renpet, together with favoured deities.

How did the Meols flask arrive in England?

Coins found in the northwest, including examples from the Wirral. Source: Philpott 2020, Journal of the Chester Archaeological Society, table V.1, p.53

F.H. Thompson discusses whether the Meols flask had been acquired at the St Menas shrine when it was brought to England or whether it was brought to the area at a much later date.  There is no reason to doubt that it was manufactured in the 6th or 7th centuries, and there are arguments in favour of it having been brought to England at that time.  As Thompson says, “finds of the late Saxon period from Meols are sufficiently common to suggest that this flask may well be contemporary.”  The presence of three mid to late 6th century Byzantine coins in the Meols area are consistent with connections to the southeast Mediterranean at that time.  This view is supported by William Anderson  who believes that the flask may be associated with other evidence of long-distant contact, “namely amphorae and imported fine wares found at Tintagel in Cornwall, and other sites in Ireland, Wales, England and Scotland,” possibly representing direct trading contacts between the Mediterranean and and the west of Britain. Robert Philpott’s examination of early Byzantine coins from the northwest also supports  a Mediterranean connection:  “Although we lack diagnostic material to identify the elite with whom Mediterranean trade was conducted, the finds indicate an entry point at the port of Meols.”  The Wirral coins, from Leasowe, Moreton,, Seacombe and Landican were issued over a period between 518 – 541 AD.

Susanne Bangert suggests two primary routes by which objects from Alexandria may have reached Britain.  The first is an overland route across Europe, along the Rhine corridor or through Italy and via the  Alps. Her other proposed route, by ship, would have passed through the Straits of Gibraltar and north up the Atlantic coast, putting into ports along the west cost of Britain, including Cornwall, Wales and perhaps Meols.

Beautiful photograph of Hilbre Island. Source: hilbreisland.info

It is a possibility that the pilgrim flask was connected with early Christian pilgrimage at Hilbre Island, just off the Wirral as part of a global pilgrimage circuit to Christian monasteries and shrines.  As unlikely as this sounds, it is not beyond the bounds of probability, as some of the Egyptian pilgrim flasks in England are found in the rough vicinity of former monastic sites (Canterbury, Derby, Durham, Norton, Runcorn and York).  Christianity arrived in England during the Roman occupation in the 4th century, after which it existed alongside pagan religions of the Anglo-Saxons until the arrival of Irish Christianity on the one hand, and the arrival of St Augustine’s mission to England from Rome in 597. Monasteries were established in both traditions, but many were destroyed by Viking raids during the 9th century. Only those of the Roman tradition were restored in the 10th century.  Pilgrimage was a popular activity in Britain from the early Christian period until the end of the medieval period, and it is possible that the Meols flask was deposited or lost during a pilgrim’s visit to the tidal Hilbre Island.  Although a monastic cell was established in the late 11th century by St Werburgh’s Benedictine Abbey in Chester, there was apparently a much earlier shrine to the obscure St Hildeberga, which the St Werburgh charters appear to confirm.

An example from Baldock, Herts., in the Letchworth Museum, no.7421. Source: Fitzpatrick-Matthews 2010

Another possibility is that although originally purchased at the Menas shrine, the Meols (and other English flask finds) were brought not directly from the site, but during near-contemporary or slightly later periods from Alexandria, locations in the Levant and elsewhere in the eastern Mediterranean, where many more Menas flasks have been found.  A generation or two on from the original pilgrims who purchased them, they may have entered local markets as devotional curios, sold by their families to contemporary travellers to raise cash. Then too, at a much later date, it could have been acquired as an antiquity by a collector, or as a travel memento by someone on military service in the Near East, or making the Grand Tour.  Philpott, in his analysis of coins from northwest England argues against this: “If the coins were modern losses by tourists or soldiers who served in eastern Europe, the Middle East or north Africa, as has often been asserted, the material recovered by metal detectorists should range more widely through the Byzantine era to embrace, for example, the common anonymous bronze issues of the late tenth to eleventh centuries, as well as other coins of Turkish, north African or Near Eastern origin.”

On balance, the available evidence seems to point a to a connection between the port of Meols and the eastern Mediterranean until the 7th century, and it seems likely that the Meols flask was introduced, along with other objects like the coins described by Philpott, at that time.

Final comments

There are four distinct phases that we know of in the life of the Meols pilgrim flask.  The first is its production.  Raw material sources were acquired, and the flask was manufactured.  The raw material was clay, very easy to source in the Nile Delta, and the manufacturing process was mundane. Hundreds of pilgrim flasks have survived, and this is one of the less elaborate examples, produced quickly and without flourishes.  The fact that the Menas pilgrim flask left the site of Abu Menas strongly suggests that it was purchased by a pilgrim, who bought one of the less expensive examples, and was probably not particularly well off.

The site of Abu Mena today. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Next, we find the pilgrim flask in Meols, so we know that it travelled.  There are a number of possible explanations for how it left the eastern Mediterranean and arrived in Meols, all of them viable.  Found in sand dunes, which cover the site of a small port, with a market, the object could have been hidden in a building that decayed, or may have been lost by its owner in or around the settlement.

The discovery of the flask in 1955, another stepping stone in its history, resulted in it being donated to its next port of call, the Grosvenor Museum, in 1956.  The museum deemed it of sufficient curiosity value to have replicas made, which were sold in the museum’s shop.

Subsequently, a number of academic papers were written about it.  Peter Carrington published a photograph of it in his book on Chester in 1994 (as mentioned at the beginning of this article, bringing us full circle), and it was described in some detail in a monograph about Meols in 2007.  This little object has had quite an interesting life.

Although this is the story of an object, its real value lies in its part of a much bigger story – that of early Christian pilgrimage.  When considered in the light of other pilgrim sites, and other objects that have travelled from the eastern Mediterranean to other parts of the world, it becomes much more than an object, and part of a fascinating narrative about people, movements and the way in which Christianity was understood and expressed in the 6th and early 7th centuries.  The St Menas pilgrim flasks also offer the chance to explore the relationship between Christianity and Egypt’s pagan past, via the survival of some of PHaraonic Egypt’s ideas and traditions in object form.  Finally, the presence of the pilgrim flask at Meols raises questions about the development of trade and transport on the Wirral and in Chester in the post-Roman period.

If anyone has anything to add to the story of the Meols pilgrim flask, do get in touch.

——-

The Wirral, showing Meols and Chester. Source: Google Maps

—-
Sources:

Books and papers:

Anderson, W. 2004. An archaeology of late antique pilgrim flasks. Anatolian Studies 54, p.79-93.
https://www.jstor.org/stable/3643040

Anderson, W. 2007. Menas flasks in the West: pilgrimage and trade at the end of antiquity.  Ancient West and East 6, p.221-43

Bagnall, R.S. 2001. Archaeological Work on Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, 1995–2000. American Journal of Archaeology. Archaeological Institute of America, 105 (2), p.227–243

Bangert, S. 2007 Menas ampullae: a case study of long-distance contacts.  In A. Harris (ed) Incipient Globalization? Long-distance contacts in the sixth century.  British Archaeological Reports International Series 1644 / Reading Medieval Studies 32. p.27-33.
https://centaur.reading.ac.uk/84537/1/RMS-2006-04_S._Bangert,_Menas_ampullae,_a_case_study_of_long-distance_contacts.pdf

Bourriau, J. 2004. The beginning of amphora production in Egypt, in J. Bourriau and J. Phillips (eds.), Invention and Innovation. The Social Context of Technological Change 2. Egypt, the Aegean and the Near East, 1650-1150 BC, Oxford, 78-95

Brooks Hedstrom, D.L. 2019. Archaeology of Early Christianity in Egypt. In Pettegrew, D.K., Caraher,  W.R. and Davis, T.D (eds).  The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Archaeology, Oxford  Handbooks, Oxford Academic.

Carrington, P. 1994.  Chester. Batsford / English Heritage (flask mentioned on page 54, and shown on page 56, figure 33)

Craggs, J.D. 1982. Hilbre: The Cheshire Island: Its History and Natural HistoryLiverpool University Press

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

Fitzpatrick-Matthews, K.J. 2016. Defining Fifth-century Ceramics in North Hertfordshire. Internet Archaeology, vol. 41.
https://intarch.ac.uk/journal/issue41/4/toc.html

Griffiths, D. and Bangert, S. 2007. Ceramic: The St Menas Ampulla.  In Griffiths, D., Philpott, R.A. and Egan, G. 2007 (see below), p.58-9

Griffiths, D., Philpott, R.A. and Egan, G. 2007. Meols. The Archaeology of the North Wirral Coast. Discoveries and observations in the 19th and 20th centuries, with a catalogue of collections. Oxford University School of Archaeology Monograph 68, Institute of Archaeology, University of Oxford
https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archiveDS/archiveDownload?t=arch-966-1/dissemination/pdf/Meols_text_2020_complete-lo.pdf

Grossmann, P. 1998. The Pilgrimage Center of Abû Mînâ. in D. Frankfurter (ed.), Pilgrimage & Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt. Leiden-Boston-Köln, Brill. p.282

Harris, A. 2003 Byzantium, Britain and the West: the archaeology of cultural identity AD 400-650. Tempus.

O’Ferrall, R.S.M. 1951. A Pilgrim’s Flask found in Derby. Journal of Derbyshire Archaeology and Natural History Society 71, p.78-9.

Philpott, R.A. 2020. Early Byzantine Copper Coins from Lowland North-West England.  New Finds from Wirral, Cheshire and West Lancashire. Journal of the Chester Archaeological Society, volume 90, 2020, p.51-70

Richards, J.D., Naylor, J. and Holas-Clark, C.  Anglo-Saxon Landscape and Economy: using portable antiquities to study Anglo-Saxon and Viking Age England.  4.4.5. Meols, Cheshire. Internet Archaeology
https://intarch.ac.uk/journal/issue25/2/4.4.35.html

Stevenson, A. 2015. The Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology: Characters and Collections. Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology, p.35

Thompson F.H. 1956. Pilgrim’s flask from Meols. Journal of the Chester Archaeological Society 43, p.48-9

Wyn Griffiths, D. 1991. Anglo-Saxon England and the Irish Sea Region AD 800 – 1100. An Archaeological Study of the Lower Dee and Mersey as a Border Area. A Thesis presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Department of Archaeology, the University of Durham
http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/1488/1/1488.pdf

Websites:

Gallorini, C. Innovating through Interactions: A Tale of Three Flasks.
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/260495223_Innovation_Through_Interactions_A_Tale_of_Three_’Pilgrim_Flasks’

Kilroe, L. 2014. Biography of an Egyptian Pilgrim Vessel. UCL 28th February 2014
UCL Culture Blog
https://bit.ly/3kBc65O

Medieval London. Ampulla
Fordham University
https://medievallondon.ace.fordham.edu/collections/show/90

St George Orthodox Ministry. The Coptic Pilgrims of the Wirral, 4th November 2020
http://www.stgeorgeministry.com/the-coptic-pilgrims-of-the-wirral/

 

A visit to St Deiniol’s Parish Church, Worthenbury

The approach to St Deiniol’s from the road.

Worthenbury, a small village on the border between England and Wales seems an unlikely location for a really superb Grade-1 listed Georgian church built on such an ambitious scale, but the two fit very well together.  The village is picturesque, the scenery peaceful and the church stunning.  It was built between between 1735 and 1739 by Richard Trubshaw, financed by the local Puleston family of Emral Hall, and the church was consecrated, with all due ceremony, by the Bishop of Chester on Palm Sunday 1739.  It is thought to be one of the most impressive Georgian churches in Wales, if not the best.  It has been beautifully maintained by its Worthenbury custodians.

The church is dedicated to St Deiniol (pronounced day-nee-ol, the Welsh form of Daniel, died c.584).  The saint has a certain local interest, although the details are far from clear.  It is generally agreed that he was the son of St Dunawd, who may or may not have been the first abbot of a monastery at Bangor on Dee known today as Bangor Monachorum, meaning “Bangor of the Monks.”  The origins of the monastery are buried in a cloud of myth, and it is by no means clear whether a monastery was actually built there.  According to the Clwyd and Powys Archaeological Trust (CPAT) the name Bangor Monachorum actually appears in documents no earlier than 1607.   Popular history has it that the current church of St Dunawd was built on its remains but I have seen no documentary or archaeological data to support this, meaning that there either isn’t any, or that it is doing a good job of hiding. 

Rather than looking for solid data, here’s a brief version of the usual story of St Deiniol, paraphrased from the lengthy entries in the The Dictionary of Welsh Biography and the Oxford Dictionary of Saints.  One version has it that St Dunawd joined forces with his three sons, one of whom was Deiniol, to found a monastery of on the banks of the Dee, at Bangor on Dee, becoming its first abbot.  Another version suggests that Deiniol was the first abbot, having first established a parent monastery in Bangor in northwest Wales. Whatever the case, St Deiniol is best known for being a monk and bishop, who is credited by Bede for having established a monastery with over 2000 monks, the most famous in Britain at the time, nearly half of whom were slaughtered by the Anglo-Saxons.  It is not entirely clear why he was canonized.   

Domesday’s record of Hurdingberie (the Anglo-Saxon name for Worthenbury), highlighted in red. Source: Open Domesday

Worthenbury sits on the Anglo-Welsh border that lies around 10km southeast of Wrexham, and is 3km west of Bangor on Dee.   The Worthenbury Brook runs a short distance to the south of the church.  The village is surrounded by undulating fields.  Probably a small nucleated settlement in the 10th century, it was apparently little bigger by the time of Domesday, when  it appears under the name “Hurdingberie,” a name of Anglo-Saxon origin, and came under the tenancy of one “Robert, son of Hugh,” the Norman baron Robert FitzHugh, who held it from the crown, amongst many other properties. At the time of Domesday, 1086, its inhabitants consisted of 3 villagers, 1 slave and 4 “other” (information sourced from the Open Domesday project).  Its holdings included 10 ploughlands,  2 lord’s plough teams, 4 men’s plough teams, a meadow of 1 acre and a mill.   There are some beautiful medieval ridge-and-furrow fields in the vicinity, shown in the photograph below.

Worthenbury village. The church is at bottom left and ridge-and-furrow fields are at top right. Source: CPAT – photo 04-c-0049

It is thought that the first religious house on the site was a chapel, first mentioned in 1388, perhaps attached to the elusive  monastery of Bangor Monachorum.   In 1277 century  Edward I (ruled 1272-1307), in the throes of his territorial disputes with Llywelyn ap Gruffyd,  dispossessed the owner of Emral Hall, Emma Audley, who had married a Welsh prince, and moved her back to her family home in Shropshire.  Worthenbury was at that time in Maelor Saesenag, and found itself shifting between English and Welsh ownership, depending on who was in the ascendancy.  Edward gave Emral instead Sir Roger Puleston.  The Pulestons came from near Newport in Shropshire, where they had settled during the reign of Henry III (ruled 1216-1272).   They had Norman roots, had proven themselves in battle, and could be relied upon to stand up against Welsh hostilities in the frontier position in which Worthenbury found itself.  Emral Hall remained in the Puleston family for over 700 years.  The architect Robert Trubshaw was hired to remodel Emral Hall for the Puleston family, but even afterwards it retained many earlier features.

Richard Trubshaw obviously did a good job for the Puleston family,  because he was hired to build today’s church between 1735 and 1739 at a cost of £955.00.  It is always difficult to know what a sum of money actually means in the past, but fortunately the National Archives has a currency convertor provides equivalents.  In today’s money, £955 equates to £112,897.  Alternatively, it was equivalent to the price of 139 horses or 205 head of cattle.  The gothic architectural ideal had dominated British architecture for such a long time, that the Georgian aesthetic, when done this well, comes as a breath of fresh air.  St Deiniol’s is a superb example of refined Georgian ideas.

Palazzo Thiene, Vicenza, Italy 1542–1558.  Source: Wikipedia

Georgian architecture is named for four kings named George who reigned in succession, from the accession of George I in 1714 to 1830, when George IV (“Prinny”) died.  Georgian architectural principles, employed for domestic, institutional and ecclesiastical architecture, were typified by attractive symmetry, space and light, the latter requiring many large windows.  Georgian architects were greatly influenced by the Renaissance architect Andrea Palladio (1508-1580), whose governmental palace, Palazzo Thiene, was characterized by vast, symmetrically aligned windows with semi-circular tops and is a clear antecedent of Georgian aesthetics.

The 3-storey church tower, showing the dramatic contrast of the creamy-coloured sandstone and the deep red brick

Trubshaw’s new church was established on the site of at least two pre-existing churches, one of wattle and daub in 544AD and another, in 1557, built of brick and timber, both belonging to the Bangor on Dee parish.  Worthenbury only became the centre of its own parish in 1689 when Sir Roger Puleston succeeded in separating it from Bangor.  Its rectory, at the opposite end of the village, had been built in 1657 by Judge Puleston for the minister to Worthenbury who was also tutor to the judge’s two sons.  Whilst the new church was being built, the congregation worshipped at Emral Hall’s private chapel.

The footprint is that of a traditional church, with an east-west orientation.  It includes the usual components of a bell tower, a nave for the public, and a chancel for the clergy with an altar, all beautifully preserved.  The Georgian style simply yells a new type of self-confidence and a pride in the here-and-now. The semi-circular chancel, a revival of the Romanesque, is a particularly nice touch, softening the angles and giving the church a real air of distinction.

The brickwork of the church was arranged in header-and-stretcher or Flemish bond (alternating long and short), and it was provided with a slated roof.  The sandstone is from the Cefn Mawr quarries in north Wales, which produces yellow sandstone, varying in both colour and quality.  The sandstone at St Deiniol’s is a very fine-grained creamy colour that contrasts beautifully with the warm red of the brick.  The urn finials on the corners at the top of the tower are replicas of those at the main entrance to Emral Park, which are apparently now at Eccleston Church, on the Duke of Westminster’s estate.  They support weather vanes. The finials mid-way along the balustrade are topped with crucifixes.  The tower also has arched windows at top and bottom, and circular windows at centre, with radiating keystones.  It was also fitted with blue-faced clock with golden numerals, made by Joyce’s of Whitchurch.

Georgian churches, being so much newer than medieval predecessors, stand some hope of surviving changes of fashion and fortunately, the interior of St Deiniol’s church has been infinitely better respected than many of its predecessors.  Many medieval churches have been disfigured on the inside, barely reconcilable with the original conception.Later  architectural embellishments and the addition of inappropriate funerary monuments may disguise original beautiful lines, and the installation of modern paraphernalia can be ruinous to a church’s interior. Westminster Abbey, for example, retains much of its essential dignity on the exterior, but has been battered into often vulgar submission inside.  St Deiniol’s retains its fine lines.  It has a fabulous interior, retaining its extraordinary and lovely box-pews, which I have never seen before, each with a family crest painted on the side.  These provide a sense of what it must have been like to form one of the congregation, all together in one space, but physically divided by family and status.  Rather than the seating being lined up in rows, the boxes give a sense both of intimacy and social division.  The box-pews of the Pulestons, the most important family, were those nearest the altar, and were furnished with chairs rather than pews, and hearths.  One of these currently contains a small display showing the history of the church.  The minister was allocated the pew below the three-tier pulpit.  Less important families sat in the boxes behind these positions, and the church wardens were confined to the rear of the church.  Some of the pews for the lower orders were not installed until 1810, and were sourced from Gresford parish church. 

A gallery was added in 1830 to accommodate musicians and an organ, and displays the royal coat of arms.  It is full-width, with tiered seating for the choir.  It is supported on slender cast iron columns, and its panelled front displays the royal coat of arms.  

——–
There are four stained glass windows.  That in the south of the nave shows St Michael and is in memory of Captain Summers who died in the First World War and lived at Emral.  To the south of the chancel is a window given by Catherine Theodosia Puleston, in memory of her parents and sisters.  The origin of the east window is a somewhat muddled story.  When Emma Corbet married Richard Puleston and moved into Emral, she recorded finding a collection of stained glass fragments and when she died in 1797, her will asked that the pieces should be made up into a new window at Worthenbury.  Quite where the glass came from, or why the pieces were kept at Emral, is uncertain, although it is speculated that it may have come from from a 14th century window in Westminster College, or from the demolished Emral Hall chapel.  Interestingly, the new window was built inside the original plain window.  The small circular window was installed in 1913 in memory of Violet Parry, another connection with the Puleston family.

Don’t forget to look up.  The plaster ceiling has been given some really fine baroque – rococo decorative features.  As well as some attractive ornamentation it features a gilded dove and sunburst, and small grey clouds.  My photograph makes it look rather brash, but from ground level, it looks charming.

 


Of the smaller fixtures and fittings, the vestry doors and small collecting boxes inscribed with “Remember the Poor” were made from wood that was rescued from the previous church.   The font dates to around 1745, and above it is a shelf, which was designed to receive bread for the poor.  This tradition survived up until 1939, when soup, cloth and coal were still distributed to those in need.  The bells were cast in 1746, and were recast and hung in 1958.  The rather battered cross in the chancel is the Emral Cross, formerly in the chapel in Emral Park, which was demolished in 1775.  The two-tiered chandelier was installed in 1816, and the single-tiered chandelier was installed in 1898.  there are numerous funerary memorials, mainly to members of the Puleston family, but other local families are also represented.  Family connections to the church are also preserved in the three Puleston funerary hatchments set up along the west end of the church. Hatchments are diamond-shaped, made of wood, and contain the components of the coat of arms that has been earned by the deceased, and which he is entitled to display. There is modern lighting and heating, but it is very well done.

Large scale repairs were undertaken in 1851, which included re-roofing the building due to damage by deathwatch beetle.  

Within the church, the earliest burial known is that of Mrs Anne Puleston, wife of John Puleston, dating to 1742.  John Puleston was buried in 1746.  The earliest of the churchyard’s graves cluster around the apse, made of yellow sandstone.  The inscriptions are badly eroded and many are illegible, but a chest tomb of 1768 is the earliest of those that can be deciphered.  There are a number of different styles of grave markers, including chests, table tombs and tablets, and they continue into the 19th century, indicating that people from surrounding villages were also buried there.

Emral Hall was sadly demolished in 1936, although the magnificent Jacobean ceiling of the banqueting hall, together with the mullion windows, were purchased by Sir William Clough-Ellis and installed in the town hall of of Portmeirion, where they remain preserved.  Today Emral Park serves as a horse stud, dairy farm and caravan park.

The church no longer holds congregations, but this is of very recent date.  It is anticipated that the church will be transferred to the jurisdiction of the Friends of Friendless Churches, who do such an excellent job of caring for churches without owners, amongst whom are those like St Deiniol’s, which are no longer in a position to pay the Anglican authorities for their services, but retain real value as heritage.

My sincere thanks to Catherine Starkey for arranging access during very icy weather, when the church would usually have been closed.
—-

East window

___

—–
Visiting:

The church is no longer in active service for congregations, and at the time of writing it is expected that the Friends of Friendless Churches will take it over.  This means that its opening times are uncertain at the moment, but these may be forthcoming.  Local people have done a great job of keeping it open for visitors, and they very kindly opened it for me (with my sincere thanks) just before Christmas when, although it was usually open during the day, it had been temporarily closed due to the abysmal weather conditions.

It is easy to find.  There is one road through Worthenbury, and the church is clearly visible heading north to south, on the right, and if you are heading south to north, it is at left on the right-hand corner past the bridge.

Thinking of it in terms of those with mobility issues, there are two steps leading up from the road through the gate into the churchyard, with a rail on the left as you face the church, and there are a small number of steps in the church itself.

Sources:

Books and papers:

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

Pamphlets:

Anon, n.d. The Parish Church of St Deiniol, Worthenbury. A Guide for Visitors.

Harrison, Sunter. 1990.  Worthenbury Church, Emral Chapel and the Pulestons. Published privately.

Websites:

British Listed Buildings
Parish Church of St Deiniol
https://britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/300001705-parish-church-of-st-deiniol-willington-worthenbury#.Y8xxkHbP3IU

Clywd and Powys Archaeological Trust (CPAT).  Historic Landscape Characterization, Maelor Saesneg.  Wrexham County Borough
https://www.wrexham.gov.uk/sites/default/files/2020-09/worthenbury-cons-area-assessment.pdf

Clwyd and Powys Archaeological Trust (CPAT). Worthenbury: Historic Settlement Survey.  Wrexham County Borough
https://cpat.org.uk/ycom/wrexham/worthenbury.pdf

Coflein
St Deiniol’s Church, Worthenbury
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/307972/

Dictionary of Welsh Biography
Dunawd
https://biography.wales/article/s-DUNA-BWR-0505
Deiniol
https://biography.wales/article/s-DEIN-IOL-0584

Open Domesday: Worthenbury
(by Powell-Smith, Anna)
https://opendomesday.org/place/SJ4246/worthenbury/

Puleston family, Emral, Flintshire
National Library of Wales
https://archives.library.wales/index.php/puleston-family-emral-flintshire

Worthenbury Conservation Area Assessment and Management Plan
Wrexham County Borough Council 2009
https://www.wrexham.gov.uk/sites/default/files/2020-09/worthenbury-cons-area-assessment.pdf

100 years ago today: Finding Tutankhamen

Detail of an ivory box lid, showing Tutankhamen receiving flowers from his wife Ankhesenamun. Source: Wikipedia

Today in 1922, 26th November, Howard Carter broke the seals that protected the door to the tomb of a king called Tutankhamen, whose name had, until 1922,  been known from only a handful of small, relatively insignificant objects.  When he discovered the entrance to the tomb, Carter was full of hope that this was the longed-for culmination of his quest to find the only intact royal tomb in the Valley of the Kings in the religious centre of Egypt, now known as Luxor.

Peering through a small hole that he had broken through the door into the first chamber, and fearing that he would find yet another empty tomb robbed out in antiquity, the shimmering light of his candle picked out strange, shifting shapes, and the unmistakeable glitter of gold.  Carter spent the next decade cataloguing and conserving the fabulous, the fascinating and the downright staggering.  The king called Tutankhamen, little more than a name without a clearly understood identity, exploded into early 20th century consciousness and became an instant sensation.

In celebration of the centenary of this extraordinary find, the Royal Mint has released a Tutankhamen centenary £5.00 coin, and I am glad to see that Egyptologist and excellent author Joyce Tyldesley has published produced a new book about the king for 2022.  Otherwise the celebration of what was, for better or worse, a very British discovery seems to have confined itself to a few magazine articles and some largely recycled television shows.  Even in the wake of a somewhat lacklustre response to the annivrsary, it has been a good time to sit back and contemplate those heady days of the discovery 100 years ago, and to wonder why the entirety of the tomb’s contents remains unpublished today. 

Although the intention with the posts on this blog is to confine myself mainly to local subjects, this time there is no connection with the Chester-Wrexham area, but as I retain a personal interest in Egypt’s archaeology I decided to throw caution to the winds and go off-topic.  I started my working life as an archaeologist, but starvation forced me to find more predictable work.  It was many years later that a trip to the Eastern and Western Deserts of Egypt made up my mind to return to university to do a PhD on Egyptian prehistory. I was based at UCL, where I formed a long and ongoing relationship with the wonderful Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology in London.  These, then, are my excuses for pure self-indulgence.  The Tutankhamen story is a great one and continues to be a marvellous and constantly emerging insight both into the history, archaeology and art of Egypt, and into how research is done and how history is written.

Biban el-Muluk (“Gates of the Kings”)

Frontpiece of Volume 1 of Description de l’Egypt. Source: Wikipedia

The discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamen tomb by Howard Carter in 1922 begins with Napoleon Bonaparte’s invasion of Egypt in 1798.  Along with his army, Napoleon sent his extraordinary team of “savants,” some 150 intellectuals and scientists who recorded everything they found about Egypt’s present and past.  The books produced by Napoleon’s savants, complete with beautiful illustrations of Egypt’s Pharaonic heritage, were now circulating in western Europe and America and being received with rapture.  Jumping on the bandwagon of this enthusiasm, museums started to send representatives to Egypt to secure items for their collections.  Some of these agents were little better than treasure hunters.  The objective was the discovery of beautiful objects to furnish museums, not the participation in historical research. 

Less than a quarter of a century after Napoleon’s arrival in Egypt, the French scholar and polymath Jean François Champollion (1790-1832) used the trilingual text on the Rosetta Stone to crack the translation of the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic script, unlocking the door to Egyptian religious beliefs, social organization, political dealings and wars.  The year was 1822, a full century before the discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamen.  Many more decades of research were required to build up a body of translated texts, from which ancient Egyptian history might begin to be articulated and understood.

Although the man who eventually discovered the tomb of Tutankhamen was Howard Carter (1874-1939), who was a very different proposition from the run-of-the-mill glory hunters who had so often preceded him, it was not Carter but the retired American lawyer Theodore Davis (1838-1915) who had first stab at finding an intact tomb in Biban el-Muluk, Gateway of the Kings, more popularly known today as the Valley of the Kings.

Panorama of the Valley of the Kings. Photograph by Nikola Smolenski. Source: Wikipedia

The Valley of the Kings is located on the east bank of the Nile at Luxor. It had been the burial place of many New Kingdom (c.1550-1099BC) kings of Egypt since about 1490BC when Thutomse I selected it as his burial place.  The last king to be buried there was probably Ramesses X in around 1099BC.  Between these two burial events, some 390 years apart, around 65 royal and noble individuals were entombed in the Valley, but all of the known royal tombs had been robbed for their treasures, an activity that began during the ancient Egyptian period.  In spite of policing of the valley throughout the New Kingdom, and the promise of the death penalty for thieves, tomb robbery was endemic. Although some tombs were robbed via their entrances, other robbers had ignored the front doors, and instead tunnelled in from above or from the side to avoid detection.

Tomb robbery reached such a crisis point that In the 21st Dynasty (1070–945 BC, some 800 years after the death of Tutankhamen) the High Priests of the god Amen gathered together the mummified remains of the kings who had survived the tomb robbers, rewrapped them, provided them with labels and stored them safely in hidden tombs known today as caches.  The bodies were, themselves, rarely of little interest to tomb robbers, who were seeking the rich, valuable and easily accessible treasures that accompanied the dead, particularly precious metals that could be melted down and sold on, or jewellery incorporating precious gems, that could be broken up and re-used.

The East Valley. Source: Wikipedia

Robbing tombs was not, unfortunately, confined to antiquity, and as western interest in Egyptian art developed, new objects began to appear in the antiquities markets of Cairo and Alexandria.  Sir William Flinders Petrie, one of the pioneers of serious archaeological investigation in Egypt, was amongst those purchasing for research purposes, but others were hoovering up artefacts in much greater numbers to sell to both museums and private collectors.  The sudden appearance on the market of all these objects, some of them truly remarkable, raised obvious questions about who was delivering them and where they were coming from.  The burial grounds of the kings and nobles were all on the east bank of the Nile at Luxor, and nearby was a sprawling village.  It emerged that some local families had become expert at locating tombs, mainly of the nobility, some of which lay beneath their homes, and when there became a demand for ancient Egyptian objects, began to empty tomb contents piece by piece to earn a living from the sales.  By trickle-feeding objects into the antiquities market, they hoped to divert suspicion.

The possibility that there might remain an intact tomb was receding all the time.  Those royal tombs that had been opened by the early 20th century revealed splendid architectural achievements and stunning decorative schemes, capturing complex religious ideas, but relatively few objects had been found.  They hinted at former treasure troves, and that raised hopes in the minds of explorers.  This was the specific dream of Theodore Davis when he began his excavations in the Valley of the Kings in 1902.  Davis, a retired American lawyer, was granted the concession for the Valley of the Kings, in spite of his lack of archaeological training.  A concession is a type of license to excavate, and the system still operates in Egypt today.  When it is granted to an individual or institution, no-one else is permitted to excavate within the zone covered by the concession.

 

Funerary mask of Thuya. Source: Wikipedia

Davis was churning through the Valley of the Kings like a human bulldozer.  In 1905, three years after he was awarded the concession, the dream of an intact royal tomb suddenly became a realistic proposition when Davis found the tomb of Yuya and his wife Thuya, numbered KV46 (KV standing for King’s Valley). Yuya and his wife Thuya were non-royal nobles who were allocated a burial space within the Valley of the Kings because they were parents of Tiye.  Tiye became the wife of Amenhotep III, mother of Akhenaten and grandmother of Tutankhamen. The burial chamber of KV46 was was stuffed full of fabulous artefacts, an unambiguous but tantalizing indication that an intact royal tomb might yet be discovered.  In total, Davis is credited with discovering 30 tombs between 1902 and 1914.  He also found three items bearing the name of Tutankhamen, who appeared to be a missing king.  One of these was found in 1907 in the unpromisingly named Pit 54, which contained abandoned objects relating directly to the burial of the king, including embalming materials and storage jars.

 

Howard Carter (1874 –1939). Source: Wikipedia

In the meantime, Howard Carter could merely watch the work in the Valley unfold and keep himself busy elsewhere.  Carter was well respected in Egyptology circles both as an archaeologist and as a member of the Antiquities Service.  He had gone to Egypt as an illustrator and watercolour painter and excelled at both.  As an archaeologist he had trained under the most notable pioneer of archaeological techniques at that time, Sir William Flinders Petrie (1853–1942).  He had moved on to become Inspector-General of Monuments of Upper Egypt, as a much-valued member of the Egyptian Antiquities Service from from 1900 to 1904, when he resigned on a point of principal over an argument with a French tourist.  Carter remained in Egypt hoping for the right job to come along, hiring himself out in the interim for various projects, nibbling around the edges of ancient Egyptian exploration in Luxor.  One of the more useful short-term appointments that he picked up was the recording the objects from the tomb of Yuya and Thuya, which gave him an intimate understanding of both the contents of the tomb, and the potential of the valley.

George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon. Source: Wikimedia Commons

In 1906 Carter began excavating for the Earl of Carnarvon, who was in Luxor for his health,  Carnarvon had been digging on an amateur basis but had caught the archaeological bug and wanted to ally himself to a credible archaeologist who could help him to take his new interest on to a more viable and formal footing.  Carter and Carnarvon watched the discoveries being made in the Valley of the Kings with envious eyes.  After 12 years of excavation and discovery, Davis feared that the valley was exhausted.  It was only on his death in 1915 that the concession came up for grabs, and Lord Carnarvon moved fast to secure it for himself and Carter.  

The First World War interrupted all archaeological activity in Egypt, and Carter himself was employed as a diplomatic courier.  However, by 1917 life had settled down sufficiently for him to resume full time archaeological work in Luxor.  By the time that Carnarvon’s Valley of the Kings concession could be acted upon, Carter had a strategy.  He suspected that the fugitive references on objects to a king called Tutankhamen found by Davis, were far more important than anyone had yet understood.  Although various royal mummies had been identified in the 21st Dynasty caches, Tutankhamen was not amongst them.  Carter believed that the objects represented an as yet undiscovered tomb, one that might have escaped the attention of the ancient Egyptian tomb robbers, and he was sure that he could find it by digging down to the bedrock of the valley.

KV62

Isometric diagram showing the tomb of Tutankhamen, by R.F. Morgan. Source: Wikipedia

Carter’s first years of excavation in the valley were profoundly disappointing, both to himself as an archaeologist with hopes of making the ultimate discovery, and to Lord Carnarvon who was footing the bill.  Carter was taking no chances, and wherever he started a new excavation, worked down to the bedrock, but the untouched tomb remained elusive.   As Nick Reeves writes in The Complete Tutankhamun

Countless boys and men laboured to move thousands upon thousands of tones of limestone rubble by basked and hand-propelled Decauville railway.  But finds were few.

In 1922, after five years of fruitless investment in Carter’s hunt for an intact tomb, Lord Carnarvon was wearied of failure but Carter was able to convince him to fund one last season.  For Carter, knowing that he was the only person left believing that an intact tomb remained to be found, it was his last chance.  Carnarvon did not bother travelling to Egypt for the excavation season, so when Carter found a partially concealed tomb entrance on found 4th November 1922, Carnarvon was at home at Highclere Castle in Hampshire. 

Stephen Cross’s water flow diagram showing how flash floods cascaded into the central area where KV62, black dot on the far left, is located. Source:  Stephen Cross (reference in Sources)

In the event, the tomb’s doorway had been hidden not by some devious ancient Egyptian method of concealment but by the prosaic deposition of layers of liquid mud carrying loose stone and other debris.  Although it rains rarely in Luxor, when it does it, it does it properly, and the loose, dry sand, bits of stone and other surface materials dislodge instantly in the flash floods to become a thick, debris-bearing liquid that cascades down flood channels towards the floodplain below.  At the end of the 18th Dynasty (c.1292 BC), a particularly fierce flash flood is thought to have plunged into the central area from different directions to where tombs KV55, KV62 (Tutankhamen) and KV63 are located. Where the channels met, in a less steeply inclined part of the valley, it slowed, depositing some of its muddy load, 1m (3ft) thick, whilst the rest continued downhill, flooding KV7 (Ramesses II) and the enormous KV5 (the sons of Ramesses II).  The deposits then baked solid in the heat of the sun and looked very much like the surrounding natural bedrock.  Another royal tomb, dating to the 19th Dynasty, had subsequently been excavated over the top of Tutankhamen’s tomb, but had not breached it. Huts dating to a later pharaoh were built over the top of both tombs, keeping the entrance of KV62 safe for centuries.  

Carter’s policy of digging down through anything that stood in his way to reach the underlying bedrock was labour-intensive but rewarded him with the entrance to the tomb.  The seals that Carter could see on the partially uncovered doorway to the tomb were badly worn and there was nothing on the visible section to identify who the owner might have been. Even though those seals were unbroken, there was absolutely no guarantee that the tomb was intact, because robbers might have tunnelled directly into the chambers.  Frustratingly, Carter needed to notify Lord Carnarvon of the discovery, and await his arrival from England. He sent the following telegram to Carnarvon:

At last have made wonderful discovery in Valley; a magnificent tomb with seals intact; re-covered for your arrival; congratulations.

That night Carter wrote prosaically in his diary “Discovered tomb under tomb of Ramsses VI investigated same & found seals intact.”  The following day, he began to put in place some basic infrastructure to prepare for the opening of the tomb.  It must have been a period of terrible anxiety, but even with the limitations of travel in the early 1900s, Carnarvon and his daughter managed to arrive in Luxor less than three weeks later, on 23rd November 1922.  Work resumed immediately.

Once the door was fully cleared, the names framed in cartouches announced that this was the tomb of Tutankhamen, vindication for Carter, who had searched for the king for 5 years.  He must have been on Schrödinger-type tenterhooks, full of hope that he was about to make the biggest find in Egyptian archaeological history, but fearing that this was yet another robbed tomb.  The passage on the other side of the door had been blocked with rubble by its builders to protect it from potential tomb robbers, and this had to be cleared.  Another door was revealed. 

Inner coffin of Tutankhamen in the Egyptian Museum, Cairo. Source: Wikipedia

On 26th November 1922, the second door was breached with a hole large to act as an inspection hatch. Carter was probably expecting to find another corridor on the other side, a long slender pathway with wide shallow steps, sloping gently downwards and possibly flanked by one or two side chambers until it eventually reached a burial chamber.  These long, slender passage tombs, often with a dog-leg turn midway, were typical of a number of previous 18th Dynasty tombs.  Carter made the small hole in the new door, and pushed his candle through:

At first I could see nothing, the hot air escaping from the chamber causing the candle to flicker, but presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues and gold – everywhere the glint of gold.  For the moment – an eternity it must have seemed to the others standing by – I was struck dumb with amazement, and when Lord Carnarvon, unable to stand the suspense any longer, inquired anxiously, “can you see anything?” it was all I could do so get out the words, “Yes, wonderful things.”

Howard Carter with one of his team examining the remains of Tutankhamen. Photograph by Harry Burton. Source: Wikipedia

Electric light was soon installed, a metal gate replaced the wooden grille in front of the door and a small but illustrious team of specialists was assembled to carry out the long, slow work.  Carter and his team continued to work in the tomb for six years, supervising the recording of the objects in situ, followed by their removal and accessioning into the Egyptian Museum in Cairo.

Now that he had found the tomb, Howard Carter was in no hurry.  He was organized and conscientious, taking years to empty the tomb, maintaining detailed visual and written records as he proceeded.  His diaries, notes  and record cards are still available, digitized for online use by the Griffiths Institute.  Perhaps the most immediately powerful record of the tomb content was provided by the photographer Harry Burton, who did a sublime job of capturing images of all that was found.  His photographs are works of documentary art, forming a superlative record of how the objects in the tomb were deposited.  Although the objects in glass cabinets in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo are beautiful, there is nothing like Burton’s photographs for understanding what the tomb looked like when it was found.

The antechamber of KV62 as it was found, photographed by Harry Burton. Source: Wikipedia

The tomb was emptied section by section.  It would take Carter another decade before the job of recording, removing and conserving the objects in the tomb was complete.  The sheer immensity of the task is hinted at by the photographs, but the simple fact that over 5000 objects had been crammed into that small set of rooms gives a better indication of the task facing Carter and his team.  The sheer richness of the just the smaller objects found in the tomb are indicated by this list in the book The Complete Tutankhamun by Nicholas Reeves, on the contents page for Chapter 5:

Guardian Statues; Ritual Figures and Magical Objects; the shabtis; Little Golden Shrine; Wooden Funerary Models; Ritual Couches; Jewellery, amulets and regalia; Clothing and Textiles; Cosmetic Objects; Games and Game Boxes; Musical instruments; Writing materials and equipment; ‘Heirlooms’; Chariots and chariot equipment; weaponry; Sticks, staves and fans; Bends and headrests; Chairs and thrones; Boxes and chests; Tools and lamps; Metal and stone vessels.; Faïence and glass; Wine jars and other pottery; baskets; foodstuffs.

Pectoral with a translucent Libyan Desert Glass scarab at its centre. Source: Archaeology Wiki

Some of the objects were more unexpected than others.  An iron dagger made of meteoric material that had presumably been found in the desert was included in the mummy bindings.  A huge piece of Libyan Desert Glass, probably created during meteorite impacts on the desert sand, was incorporated into a stunning “pectoral,”  a type of elaborate necklace that sat on the chest.  These materials are very rare, and clearly had a unique intrinsic value in the 18th Dynasty.

That all of this remained in the tomb, with an awful lot more besides, is very surprising given that the tomb had been robbed twice during the period that the valley remained in use, probably not long after the tomb was first sealed, and certainly before the flash food at the end of the 18th Dynasty.  Both incursions left evidence.  The first robbery accessed the tomb via the entrance, after which the corridor between the entrance and the first internal door was blocked with rubble and the door re-sealed.  The second robbers accessed the tomb via a tunnel excavated through the surrounding rock.  Carter’s description of the scene resulting in the Annexe is evocative:

One [tomb robber] – there would probably not have been room for more than one – had crept into the chamber, and had then hastily but systematically ransacked its entire contents, emptying boxes, throwing things aside, piling them one upon another, and occasionally passing objects through the hole to his companions for closer examination in the outer chamber.  He had done is work just about as thoroughly as an earthquake.

Carter estimated that some 60% of the jewellery was stolen, based on dockets made by the priests at the time of the burial which, when assembled, made up a form of inventory.  It makes sense that the robbers would have focused only on the objects that were both very valuable and most easily portable.  Items that could be easily sold on or melted down would have been prioritized.  Gold might be chipped off larger objects, but the bigger the object, the more likely it was to be left behind.  Still, a lot of small items and gold were left behind, so why did the robbers not return to complete the job?  It seems most likely that they were discovered and then dealt with as usual, being subjected to torture before being put to death, both as punishment for desecrating a royal religious site, and as a warning to others.  Once the tomb’s entrance was certainly resealed, the act of the muddy flood waters completed the job of disguising the entrance, until Carter came along.

A political time-bomb

Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon at the door of the burial chamber. Source: Wikimedia Commons

As the tomb’s fame gathered a momentum all of its own, it also became a ticking bomb. Lord Carnarvon, in a bid to simplify dealings with the media, made the colossal diplomatic error of signing a contract with The Times newspaper to grant them exclusive rights to the news emerging from the tomb, offending both Egyptian and international media outlets.  Worse, it  endowed the enterprise an unlooked for and very undesirable air of colonialist arrogance that gave the governing Egyptian nationalists all the ammunition they needed to draw attention to unwelcome foreign interference in Egyptian state affairs. To all intents and purposes, Carnarvon and Carter were hijacking access to Egypt’s own heritage.  The tension was corrosive, and impacted the relationship between Carnarvon and Carter, who were deeply divided on how to deal with the situation.

When Lord Carnarvon died on 5th April 1923, aged 57, from an infected insect bite, Carter found himself without a buffer zone between himself and the various interested and aggrieved parties.  He was no diplomat, and contrived to alienate all the key government and administrative officials whose support he should have been seeking.  In a remarkable act of pique, Carter downed tools, stopped work, citing “the impossible restrictions and discourtesies of the Egyptian Public Works Department and its antiquity service.”  It was a foolish move that not only infuriated the Egyptian authorities but gave them the leverage they needed to oust him.  Carter had infringed the terms of the concession, and was now banned from the tomb.  Legal action failed, and Carter left the country, leaving the Egyptian government to declare that it intended to continue the work itself.

Tourists gathered around the entrance of KV62 in 1923, the year after the discovery. Source: Wikipedia

Carter was only permitted to return after a national emergency was triggered by the murder of a British diplomat, followed by the downfall of the nationalist government and the renewal of firmer greater British control over Egypt.  A new concession was granted in January 1925, but this time there was to be no exclusive deal with The Times, and there was to be no attempt to remove any of the tomb’s contents from Egypt.   Carter died in 1939, only seven years after completing his work on the objects found in the tomb. He had been planning a six-volume publication of the tomb, but it never happened.

Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon had found the tomb of Tutankhamen, and a well-chosen team of specialists examined and emptied it, but there was still considerable research required to learn about the king himself, and to learn more about what the objects in the tomb could impart to researchers about 18th Dynasty Egypt itself.  Today, although many individual academic papers have been written by specialists in certain particular fields, like leather or jewellery, and dozens of coffee table books have been written, no single, centralized co-ordinated project based on the tomb has been masterminded.  Although Tutankhamen the tourist attraction and work of art are very familiar, Tutankhamen the ultimate resource for primary research has somehow fallen between the gaps.

There are seriously strong arguments for getting to grips with the entire collection as a single co-ordinated project, leveraging worldwide specializations and skills, with research underpinned by a strong theoretical and methodological approach.  Storing and exhibiting items is not the same as understanding them, and digging without publishing leads to dead ends.  Carter died before he could publish is planned 6-volume treatise, and although subsequent researchers have published piecemeal research papers according to their research interests, no centralized project has been attempted.  At the very least, an online relational database of the objects in the Tutankhamen inventory, listing all the existing publications based on it, would be a valuable resource, to complement the Griffith Institute’s excellent online databases of the original records made by Howard Carter, Harry Burton and others.

Final Comments

Howard Carter’s discovery of Tutankhamen, sponsored by Lord Carnarvon, remains a great story, well worth re-telling 100 years later.  Carter died before he could publish his 6-part planned treatise on the tomb, which remains a gap that has yet to be filled.  Even so, the discovery remains a sensational find, with works of art that even Carter could not have imagined finding, filling gallery after gallery at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo.  Flipping through a book of pictures of the tomb, I continue to be amazed at how it could all have fitted into such a tiny set of spaces.  Each piece is magnificent in its own right, and together the collection provides material confirmation of the story of the afterlife told in the hieroglyphic texts on tomb walls, building a vivid impression of the hopes and ambitions of ancient Egyptian royalty and nobility.  In so many ways, Carter gave Tutankhamen an afterlife that the young king could never have imagined.

sdfsadfsad

Note:  Tutankhamen versus Tutankhamun

The name of Tutankhamen. Source: pharaoh.se

Up until relatively recently the anglicized name of the king’s name was written as “Tutankhamun,” although Howard Carter spelled the name with an “e” instead of the more familiar “u” in his books about the tomb.  Ancient Egyptian script omitted vowels, and a series of conventions were therefore used to make ancient Egyptian words pronounceable today.   As standardization has become increasingly desirable, the new system of dealing with the problem of missing vowels is to use the letter “e” where no other clues are available.

To explain a little further for anyone interested in how this works, the process of anglicizing hieroglyphs goes through two steps.  The first step, which you can see in the above image from the pharoah.se website, shows a line in italics, and this is called transliteration.  A formalized set of characters and symbols are used to capture a writing system that may include elements not used in English (or German, French etc) but are recognizable to anyone studying ancient Egyptian texts.  As you can see in the italicized line of transliteration above, as well as familiar alphabet characters there is an apostrophe and an “h” with a curved line under it.  For publication and general chat, these are simplified into something that can be expressed using the English alphabet.

Alabaster vase from Gurob showing cartouches (name frames) of Tutankhamen. UC16021. Source: Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology

In the case of Tutankhamen this breaks down as follows (keep looking back at the hieroglyphic name shown above, with transliteration and translation).

Tutankhamen’s name is composed of three separate words, which Carter wrote as Tut-Ankh-Amen but are today run together as Tutankhamun (older convention) or Tutankhamen (newer convention).  The middle hieroglyph in “Tut” (the little bird) is transliterated as a “w”, and the “a” in ankh is a hieroglyph  that has no real equivalent in English and is transliterated with the apostrophe symbol.  The third element of his name, which is the name of the great god Amen, is actually transliterated  “imn,” the “a” of Amen being a hieroglyph usually transliterated as an “i.”  In older books that tradition was to add a “u” between the “m” an “n” to make Amun, which made it easy to pronounce, but an “e” is the new standard. As this one name illustrates, the business of transliterating ancient Egyptian names into modern equivalents has a long way to go before real standardization is achieved.

You may be puzzled because the name Amen is written first.  The name of the king is always written in his cartouches in the order Amen-Tut-Ankh.  This is because the name of the god always takes precedence over the name of the king.  This is termed “honorific transposition.”  But his name was Tut-Ankh-Amen.  Go figure 🙂  

Finally, Tutankhamen was actually born Tutankhaten, and changed his name on the death of his father Akhenaten.  But that’s another story.


Sources

This was written for fun, so I wrote most of it off the top of my head.   I have, however, checked important details, dates and quotes in the books below.  Any errors are of course my own.

Books and papers:

  • Carter, Howard 1927, republished 2007.  The Tomb of Tutankhamen. Max Press (with an introduction by John Romer)
  • Carter, Howard and Mace, Arthur 1923, republished 2004. The Tomb of Tut Ankh Amen: Volume 1: Search Discovery and the Clearance of the Antechamber. Duckworth Egyptology
  • Cross, Stephen. W., 2008. The hydrology of the Valley of the Kings. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 94(1), 303–310.
  • Frayling, Christopher 1993. Protecting Tutankhamun. Conservation Journal. July 1993, Issue 08
  • Reeves, Nicholas 1990.  The Complete Tutankhamun. The King, the tomb and the royal treasure. Thames and Hudson
  • Tyldesley, Joyce 2013. Tutankhamen’s Curse: The developing history of an Egyptian king. Profile Books
  • Tyldesley, Joyce 2022.  Tutankhamun. Pharaoh-Icon-Enigma.  Headline.

Websites:

Griffith Institute
http://www.griffith.ox.ac.uk

Harry Burton photographs
http://www.griffith.ox.ac.uk/gri/carter/gallery/

Excavation journals and diaries made by Howard Carter and Arthur Mace
http://www.griffith.ox.ac.uk/discoveringtut/journals-and-diaries/season-4/journal.html

Howard Carter watercolours, prior to the discovery of Tutankhamen. Griffith Institute.
http://www.griffith.ox.ac.uk/gri/Carter_birds.html

Mummy Bandage from Tutankhamun’s Embalming Cache (Pit 54) ca. 1336–1327 B.C.
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/548838

The Amarna Project
https://www.amarnaproject.com/

The Theban Mapping Project
https://thebanmappingproject.com/

The Getty Conservation Institute: Conservation and Management of the Tomb of Tutankhamen (2009–2019)
https://www.getty.edu/conservation/our_projects/field_projects/tut/

Royal Mint Tutankhamun Centenary £5.00 coin
https://www.royalmint.com/shop/limited-editions/discovery-of-tutankhamuns-tomb/the-100th-anniversary-of-the-discovery-of-tutankhamuns-tomb-2022-5-brilliant-uncirculated-coin/

Egyptological
Libyan Desert Glass and the Breast Ornament of Tutankhamen
By Andie Byrnes. Published on Egyptological, September 9th 2011, Magazine Edition 2
http://lancastrian.net/kemet/2011/09/09/libyan-desert-glass-and-the-breast-ornament-of-tutankhamen-4291

A great day out at Greenfield Valley Park, Holywell

On visit to Basingwerk Abbey a few months ago, we noticed signage indicating that the abbey was at the south end of the Greenfield Valley Park, the north end of which is Holywell just to the south of Holywell town centre.  The Greenfield Valley Park had been on my to-do list for ages, but it was my friend Katie’s suggestion that we go today, and she brought David Berry’s guide book with her, which included a map that we followed to make the most of the park (details below).

Map from Greenfield Valley Visitor Centre

The park, which includes the ruined abbey and St Winifred / Winefrede’s Well follows both the line of the Holywell Stream that erupts in bubbles at St Winifred’s Well, as well as the line of a former railway track that ran from Holywell to Greenfield Dock.  It is one and a half miles as the crow flies from north to south, but covers 70 acres and consists of a network of metalled paths (marked on the map) and tracks, beautifully maintained, connecting some remarkably preserved industrial heritage.  Each one of these buildings was accompanied by large tracts of water that were used to power water wheels that were built in the late 18th century and continued to be used well into the 19th century.

As well as being fascinating, the tree-filled park is a lovely place to walk, particularly appealing in its multi-coloured autumnal garb.  In the summer there are birds and butterflies, and even at this time of year there was the occasional woodland flower.  There is also the little Bakehouse café in Basingwerk House at the  south end of the park, next to Basingwerk  Abbey, which serves good coffee, cake and a small, imaginative menu of nicely presented and very enjoyable food.

This post is confined to the really gripping industrial heritage.  I’ll talk about Basingwerk Abbey on another post, and St Winifred’s well, both of which we visited on the same day, will also be dealt with separately.  The following highlights of the walk start in the north and head south ending at Greenfield Dock.  The numbers in the text refer to the map above.
sdafasdfas

The Holywell Rail Line and bridge

The wide metalled footpath that links Holywell in the north with the A548 to the south follows the line of a standard gauge railway built in 1868.  Its purpose was to carry minerals from the Greenfield Wharf, now known as Greenfield Dock, and to ship products made at Greenfield Valley to Liverpool for sending further afield. In 1912 it was converted to carry passengers, and became known as the Little Train.   It claims to have been the steepest conventional passenger railway line in Britain, with a 1:27 gradient.  At the top of the path, near Holywell, there is a massively constructed railway bridge (10) with two wide arches.  Today, charmingly, it is a footpath, leading from Tesco to a housing estate.
asfasdfsd

Greenfield Valley 1792. Source: Davies and Williams 1986

Battery Works

Established in 1776, the Battery Works (8), also known as Greenfield Mills, was built to manufacture pots and pans from brass sheets.  Davies and Williams describe the process (p.28-9):  Each of the four copper and brass battery mills “consisted of large hammers raised by a cog on a rotating beam.  The beam extended from the axle of the waterwheel so that each waterwheel worked up to six hammers.  Once the cog had passed, the hammer fell, striking an anvil.  Workmen would hold sheets of plates of metal on the anvils and as the hammer hit them, shape them into pans, bowls and other articles.”

fdfdsfsd
The troughs that held the water to turn the wheels can still be seen.  One of the pits where the waterwheel turned can still be seen in the photograph below, together with a section of wall with a circular hole where the wheel once turned. Like all the main industrial operations along the river, it was backed with a large body of water at its northern (upriver) side.  The water is now full of bull rushes.  Even though it is impossible, just by looking at the ruined remains, to see exactly how all the different elements fitted together, this is a massively impressive piece of the Greenfield site.  The finished products were shipped to  Africa via Liverpool and exchanged for West African slaves.  

Meadow Mill

In 1787, eleven years after the Battery Works, a new mill (7) was built by the Greenfield Copper and Brass Company to produce rolled copper sheets, and to make copper rollers for printing patterns on to cloth.  The main building was a sizeable affair, 86 x 69ft (26 x 21m), with two pillars 11.5ft (3.5m) apart supporting a roof made of copper sheet.  It was  fitted with three cast iron wheels, each 20ft (6m) in diameter.  Copper ingots were melted and moulded into plates 3 (0.9m) x 4ft (1.2m) and about 1/2 inch (1.27cm) thick, which were cut into strips, that were in turn fed between pairs of rollers to create sheets of various thicknesses.   These could be turned into wire or other products.  When this work came to a close, the site was used by a number of other smaller-scale industries, including a tin plate works.

Meadow Mill  is backed by a basin of water that fed the water wheel that powered the mill.  It is now marshy and full of algae, making life rather interesting for the moorhens, and the surrounding foliage is now home to several species of butterfly. On the other side of the water wheel, the water was taken down to the next level of the valley down a purpose-built run-off.  

In the 1850s it was taken over by Newton Keates as a lead works.  This was followed by a tinplate works, then a brass rolling and wire works, and in 1890 was leased to William Eyre for rubber grinding and processing.

Lower Cotton Mill

There were a number of cotton mills along the Greenfield Valley, built for the manufacture of cotton textiles, all water-powered, in a period when cotton was one of Britain’s primary exports. John Smalley, one of the backers of Richard’s Arkwright’s ground-breaking spinning frame, established a mill with his colleague John Chambers. Their company was the Cotton Twist Company.  The earliest mill was built from stones taken from the nearby Basingwerk Abbey, and was called the Yellow Mill.  The business was declared bankrupt in 1780 and Smalley died in 1782, but Smalley’s window Elizabeth was able to find partners to push the business forward, and the business went from strength to strength.  Upper Mill was built inn 1983, Lower Mill (6) In 1785 (in just 10 weeks) and Crescent Mill in 1790.  All were fitted with Arkwright’s spinning frames and were worked by many local people, including young children.  The six-storey mill that survives today is the Lower Cotton Mill, its spinning frame once powered by a waterwheel 18ft high (5.5m) and 7ft (2.1m) wide with a 16ft (4.8m)  fall of water.  You can see the culverts that were built to carry the water beneath the buildings and feed them further down the valley.

From where we were walking, on the upper path, we could look down into the ruined warehouse’s, which was impressive.   In the 1850s it was taken over by a flour merchang and renamed the Victorian Corn Mill; the water basin is still called the Flour Mill Pond. Later it was the premises of a wheelwright and a brickworks.

If you were on the lower path, one of the buildings (which we did not know about) has apparently been restored and now houses a steam bottling plant, a railway museum and an exhibition on the industries of the Valley.  It was something of an omission that we missed this!  A good excuse to go back.  At the time of writing, admission is free.

Abbey Wire Mill

The Abbey Wire Mill overshot waterwheel in pit. Source: Chris Allen, Geograph

The site of the former copper and brass wire factory (5), the main output of which was  pins and bolts, has little to see.  It originally covered about an acre, and was the site of the wire mills of the Parys Mine Company, where rods of copper and brass were pulled through a series of holdes of decreasing size and then heated and cooled until wire was produced.  The site does contain an original waterwheel pit in which a waterwheel is still located, now renovated and capable of producing electricity for the museum.

In 1856, Newton Keates and Co leased the site and raised the level of the dam to create a larger pool.  This was a mistake.  Water broke through and flooded in 1857 and 1858, so the height of the water behind the dam had to be lowered.  The works closed in 1894 and the machinery was auctioned off.

Apparently, at a later date in the early 20th century, a small soap-works was built on the site which produced, presumably amongst other themes, soap imprinted with images of St Winifred, the first batch of which were sent to the Pope.  The mind boggles.  Today there is a small bandstand at its edge.

Further down the path, and the Bakehouse Café is located in Basingwerk House, a fine 1930s building.   We had a very good lunch there.  Beyond that is Basingwerk Abbey (about which more on another post) and beyond that is a car park and the A458, which you need to cross to reach Greenfield Dock, which is off the above map.

Greenfield Dock

Greenfield Dock is beyond the Green Valley Park, but is only a short walk away, reached by going through the car park beneath the abbey, crossing the main road, heading left for a short distance and taking the first on the right.  This is Dock Lane, which takes you to Greenfield Dock and the Wales Coast Path.  There’s not a lot to see, just a couple of tiny fishing boats in an inlet, and views (on a less grey day) across to the Wirral, but the dock was an important contributor to the Green Valley industries, linking with the Holywell Rail Line.

The Wales Coast Path, however, looks excellent in both directions, and a great destination for a sunny day.  It starts in Chester, and can be followed continuously around the entire Welsh coastline, but can be done in short chunks.  From here, for example, one could head upriver to Flint along the Path, and visit Flint Castle (which I have written about here), which is a walk of 4.3 miles (6.9 km) from Greenfield Dock to Flint Castle, but don’t forget the return journey.
——-

Wales Coast Path: Flint to Holywell. Source: Wales Coast Path

Visitor Information:

This is an excellent place to visit, with stacks to see.  If you are interested in industrial archaeology, wildlife on land and water, and woodland walks, you will not be disappointed.

To give some idea of how long it took us, we started out from Churton (about 15 minutes drive south of Chester) at 1030, arriving in Holywell at about 1115, having taken the most direct route along the A55, and we left at 1530, with a short stop for coffee and a snack in the park.  This is a dry-day walk, because there is nowhere to shelter.

In the Greenfield Valley everything is open and free to see other than the Green Valley Park Museum and St Winifred’s Well and Chapel.  We didn’t visit the museum, which is behind the visitor centre but details are available here.  Details for St Winifred’s Well can be found here.  The museum and visitor centre are closed from the end of October onwards.  There are also details about children’s activities on the Greenland Valley website here.

From a mobility point of view, a number of tracks, including the one that follows the line of the old railway are wide and metalled, but there is a distinct downhill gradient from Holywell to the abbey, and of course there’s the uphill gradient on the return journey.

Sources:

Berry, David, 2012. Walks around Chester and the Dee Estuary.  Kittiwake Books

Davies, K. and Williams, C.J., 1986. The Greenfield Valley. An Introduction to the History and Industrial Archaeology of the Greenfield Valley, Holywell, North Wales.  Holywell Town Centre

Greenfield Valley visitor’s Guide and Map (A3 fold-out)

The Industrial Heritage of Greenfield Valley. KS2 and KS3 Teaching Resource
cadw.gov.wales/sites/default/files/2022-02/Industrial%20Heritage%20-%20Greenfield%20valley%20resource%20-%20English.pdf

Greenfield Valley Park:  www.greenfieldvalley.com