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 super visit to Blue Planet Aquarium on the Wirral

This was a completely off-the-cuff visit, as we were planning to go somewhere else but found that it was temporarily closed.  I am so glad that we were forced to change our plans, because we absolutely loved the aquarium.  Located in the Ellesmere Port area, it was opened in 1998, but it has been so well cared for that it looks brand new.

The fish are fabulous – everything from sharks bigger than me to tiny fast-moving flashes of spectacular colour and light.  the myriad of shapes, sizes, colours and types of movement is a massive eye-opener.  Nature went to town on the aquatic spectrum of possibilities.  There are also timeless tortoises, sinuous snakes, iridescent frogs and a remarkable chameleon, whose projecting, rotating eyes are an evolutionary marvel.  One of the most attractive features of the aquarium is the profusion of richly flourishing plant life.  Oh that my indoor plants would look like that!

The underwater tunnel, which passes through the aquarium, is a sensational experience, with an incredible array of fish, including sharks and stingrays, flowing around you and overhead and conger eels peering out at you from rocky enclaves.  It is the nearest that any non-divers are ever going to get to a first-hand sense of experiencing the enchantment of the aquatic universe.  Rather than carrying on with the superlatives, here are the  rest of the pics.  Visiting details (including disabled access) are at the end, as usual.

 

Where else could you possibly find yourself looking up into the intimidatingly toothy mouth of a shark overhead, or glory in the soft, pure-white underbelly of a stingray, elegance on the wing, as it glides effortlessly just inches from your eyes?  Magic.


Visiting

Blue Planet was easy to find, clearly signposted with brown signs from the M53.  When you reach it, you find yourself confronted with a series of car dealerships, and cars parked all along the approach road, but the aquarium is the big silver building on the left at the end of the approach road, with its own big car park, including disabled parking.  For SatNav users, the postcode is CH65 9LF.  Bus and other transport info is on the website’s Getting Her page.

See the website for the opening times and entry and parking charges.  We visited on a Wednesday at around midday, and although there were other people there, it was very quiet, and ideal for us.  A couple of school trips were in progress, but were easy to avoid as the kids were well managed and herded together.

For those with leg issues and for wheelchair users (both were there having a great time) there is a disabled lift (just ask if you cannot find it).  The aquarium ranges over two floors, and each is on the flat.  Some of the rooms are quite dark, and that may be a problem for people with balance problems.  You can find more on the disability page on the website.  There are plenty of places to sit down.

Outside, on the other side of the shop, there is the pelican enclosure (with real, live pelicans),  a picnic area, a kid’s play area, and a small wildlife reserve.  There are daily talks and events, and you can book special visits, all details available on the website.

The shop is stocked with loads of truly fun soft toys, aquatically themed.  I managed not to buy a giant fluffy stingray or octopus, but it was touch and go (had I been alone it might have been a different story 🙂 ).  There is a large café.  We didn’t try it, but it was well used.

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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.

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

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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.  

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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.
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East window

___

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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

A winter walk through the fields from Churton to Farndon

The walk through the fields from Churton to Farndon and back again is always enjoyable, taking about an hour for the full circuit, or less if you don’t pause for photos.  It always varies enormously by season, but was quite spectacularly distinctive yesterday, glazed in frost under a bright blue sunny sky. Where the tractors had been out, during wet weather the deep tracks along some of the footpaths had filled with rainwater and frozen solid, but the ridges between were ice-free.  Literally freezing in the shade, it was actually quite warm in the sun.  A splendid walk, all colour and light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The route taken from Churton to Farndon along official footpaths (in bright pink). The return route takes the pink footpath that starts in Brewery Lane.  The red blobs are the approximate locations of two possible prehistoric sites, now ploughed out. Source of map: The Public Map Viewer.

 

December frost in Churton

A beautiful day all day yesterday, and it was lovely today too, right up until the skies opened.  Fortunately, by that time the chilli con carne was in the slow cooker and the log fire was doing its stuff most effectively.

Just a few snaps from the garden, capturing some of that crisp contrast between the white lace of the frost, with all its snowflake complexity, and the autumnal shades and shapes, framed, captured and transformed.

As soon as the sun crept around the corner of the house, the frost started to melt, its drips capturing a myriad of colours.  For the first time since I put them out a couple of weeks ago, the bird feeders were a hub of activity, a reflection of just how hard the ground is.

 

 

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.

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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.
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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.
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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.”

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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.
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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

A terrific visit to the Lion Salt Works in Northwich

The Pump House

What a brilliant place! The Lion Salt Works in Northwich is not only the last open-pan salt works in Cheshire but one of only four remaining in the world.  I had really very little idea of what to expect, but of all the places I have visited, this one most resembles an industrial time capsule.  It is as though things were left just as they were when the Works closed, which is more or less what happened.  The biggest market for Lion Works salt was West Africa, but when the Nigerian Civil War broke out in the late 1960s, and the political situation that followed it failed to improve matters, the Lion Salt Works struggled to survive, and the business closed in 1986.  The decision was made to convert the Works into a museum of salt working, and what a good decision that was.  There are lots of information boards, models and sound effects, all excellent, but what really grips is the sense that this could all start up again tomorrow.

Roman and Medieval salt pans

Another extraordinary aspect to the place is how for just under a century, between 1894 and 1986, the method of making salt from brine hardly changed.  In fact, the method used was pretty much the same as that employed by the Romans in the same area.  Open-pan salt manufacturing is just what it says – the salt-carrying water, brine, was pumped up from two levels of rock-bearing beds from below the surface and then fed into huge rectangular iron pans, which were heated from below to drive off the water, and then dragged to the side of the pan to help them drain

Salt beds beneath the Lion Salt Works

The Cheshire salt was once suspended in sea water.  In the Triassic Period, c.220 million years go, the Cheshire Basin was a tropical lagoon in which seawater became trapped.  As the water evaporated from the lagoon, it left behind a rock salt known as halite (Sodium Chloride).  Two bands of of salt lie under Northwich and were tapped by the Lion Salt Works.  The first is 40m (131ft) down and is 20m thick (65ft), then there is a 10m (33ft) layer of marlstone and then a second, 30m (90ft) layer of salt.  When rainfall entered the water table and washed over the salt layers, it dissolved the salt again, and created subterranean streams of highly salted water known as brine.  Natural forces pushed these salty streams to the surface in the form of natural springs, but the streams themselves could be tapped by drilling down to them and pumping the brine out at the pump house.

Inside the Pump House

The pump house is a good place to start your visit on the way from the car park to buy your ticket in the former Stove House, now containing a brightly modern shop and café.  The brine, once extracted from the borehole,  was stored first in a tank and from there it was distributed to the salt pans for processing.  A steam engine powered the pump, and both the engine and its boiler are still visible in the pump house.  The pump was known as the “nodding donkey” due to the motion of the overhead beam as it rose and fell.

Once beyond the ticket office, you follow the signs to enjoy a self-guided tour.  There are plenty of disabled elevators for the leg-challenged and for wheelchair users, which you can operate yourself.

The first building that you come to is a former terraced house, the Red Lion Inn.  The original Red Lion Hotel was knocked down in order to expand the mining operation, so two terraced houses were purchased in order to give the workers somewhere to relax after the heavy labour in the stove and pan houses.  This building is now used to show Roman and Medieval versions of the pans (just smaller, not actually any different in how they were used) and to show a reconstruction of the works office, complete with clocking-in machine, and the Red Lion bar.

Indoor salt pan on the first floor

It is difficult to get one’s head around the salt pans.  The concept is childishly simple, but the sheer hands-on labour involved even as late as the 1980s is truly remarkable.  There are displays showing the role of each of the workers.  The Lion Works was set up and run by six generations of the Thompson family, and the workers were all local people.   At first both men and women were employed in the heavy duty work of the Works, but later women were confined to the less strenuous work of packing up the salt and carrying out administrative tasks.

The two main initial tasks were to rake up the salt in the pans once the water had been evaporated off (creating steam-heavy rooms), and to feed the fires in the stove houses.  Here’s a somewhat eye-popping excerpt from the guide book:

Salt-making was a ‘dark art’ and the salt workers would add all sorts of things to make the salt crystals form.  These included strong ale, bullock’s blood and eggs, but these were replaced by soft soap and glue

First floor stove room

Workers known as wallers worked in the outdoor pans, pulling the salt along the edges of the pan to form large walls to drain it.  Inside, lumpers worked on smaller (but still huge) pans to rake the salt to the sides where it drained, before pacing it into blocks or lumps. The lumps were taken on barrows to the stove rooms to dry out.  From here they went through a crushing mill, a splendid piece machinery that was steam-powered until the 1950s when it was converted to electricity.  The resulting salt grains were graded from fine to coarse before being packed up in bags or small plastic packs.

The salt that was processed outside was inferior to that made inside, not due to the original brine or the work of the crushing machine, but due to the temperature at which it was heated in the pans.  This is because of the multiple uses of salt, from fine-dining to packing fish caught at sea.  The Trent and Mersey Canal runs alongside the works.  Coal to power the engines and to heat the pans was delivered by narrowboat and the packaged salt was also sent out by narrowboat.  The canal network was huge, and even though canal travel was slow compared to the railways that eventually replaced them, was well equipped for transporting heavy, bulk products reliably to towns, cities and ports.

The mining works had a dramatic knock-on effect on the structural stability of the town of Northwich.  The story of the subsidence caused by the mining is another aspect to the story that is truly compelling.  On the approach to the Lion Works, one of the mines subsided so thoroughly in 1928 that two flashes now flank the road.   The subsidence had a truly transformative impact on buildings and infrastructure, and not in a good way.  Buildings shifted, some tilting backwards or forwards, others dividing slowly into two, the brickwork forming great fissures as the subsiding and pulled them in opposite directions.  The solution was to go back to Medieval domestic building traditions, creating light-weight frames and building in jacks points into which levers could be inserted, in order to persuade buildings back into position.  Other buildings, like the Bridge Inn, could simply be moved in their entirety.  This gives the town today a half-timbered look.  It is an astonishing idea that to respond to the conditions, buildings became just as shiftable as furniture. Roads too subsided, and one collapse caused a major breach in the neighbouring canal.

Left: The Bridge Inn in Northwich on the move, giving new meaning to nomadic settlement strategies. Middle: The Marston Hall mine collapse caused part of the canal to subside in 1907. Right: Warrington Road frequently sank and 1000s of tons of salt pan cinders were used to build it up again.

There is lots more to find out at the museum, and I recommend it for anyone interested in industrial heritage.  As well as the Works themselves, there are plenty of really excellent information boards, some interactive displays aimed mainly at children, and some absolutely splendid photographs.

Visiting

We piled out to Northwich along the M56, and it was easy to find the Lion Alt Works by leaving at Junction 10, but we had intended to return via the A51, taking in the Anderton Boat Lift on our way back.  In our dreams.  At the time of writing (September 2022) Northwich is up in extensive roadworks, and the diversion signs must lead somewhere, but heaven knows where.  A sign half-buried in an overgrown verge directed wannabe Boat Lift visitors to follow the diversion signs, which was hysterically funny as the diversion signs were, as stated,completely unfathomable.  We just about found our way to the A51 to Chester (although not by following the diversion signs), but we never did find the Boat Lift, in spite of several attempts, both with and without the SatNav.

At the museum there is a car park, café and shop.  A free map is given out, but a really useful guide is available for purchase too.  The opening times on the website state that the museum is closed on Mondays except bank holidays, and there is an entrance fee.  For up to date information check out their website.
https://lionsaltworks.westcheshiremuseums.co.uk/

The smithy

The staff at the museum were friendly and helpful.  We were chatting to one of them at the end of our visit when we were sitting in the café.  His knowledge was immense, and he knew the answers to all the questions that we fired at him.  I failed to catch his name, but my sincere thanks.

The coffee came from a push-button machine, but was absolutely fine, and the tea was served in a lovely little pot.  The coffee was a particularly nice surprise after the undrinkable swill that was being served with breakfast in the Novotel in Greenwich (London), where I was staying recently!

For disabled and mobility-challenged visitors, there are wheel-chair friendly lifts to the upper floors, and you can operate these yourself.   The whole museum is intended to be disabled friendly, and at least to my eyes, looked very well thought out.

Feeding the ovens beneath salt pan 3

I wanted to see if there was any edible (as opposed to ornamental) local salt for sale, but forgot.  I am real salt enthusiast and always have several types at home for both cooking and seasoning at the table, so I am a tad miffed that I forgot to look!  If you go, do let me know if they were selling any.  There were blocks of ornamental salt for sale, in beautiful shades of pink, but I have no idea if it was edible too.

Manager’s house

Northwich town itself looks as though it will be well worth visiting after all the roadworks have come to a close, particularly if you are a fan of inland waterways and the architecture and civil engineering that goes with them (which I am).  Make sure that the Anderton Boat Lift is open if you want to see it, as its opening times seem to be something of a movable feast.

 

The crushing mill

Interior of the smithy