Plas Newydd in Llangollen: A packed extravaganza of the decorative arts (#1)

Plas Newydd

Plas Newydd today, with the porches and gothic-style windows added by Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby, and the ornamental battens to emulate half -timbering that were added by General John Yorke after 1876.

Plas Newydd was on my long list of things to do in the area, one of those places that every Llangollen visitor aims to tick off.  In spite of the outward mock-Tudor chocolate-box appearance, it is a real gem, a completely fascinating treasure trove of late Gothic and Early Modern wood carving used like wallpaper, together with0 patchworks of fragmented stained glass, plasterwork ceilings, delftware tiles, gilt leather wall hangings and Lincrusta wallpaper.  The story of how this blend of decorative arts came about, based on the enthusiasm of two eccentric Irish ladies who moved here in 1780, is probably better known the house itself.  The eccentricity of both ladies and house is unarguable, but there is an energy and antiquarian-style authenticity about the place that is equally undeniable and is truly compelling.  The house turned out to be an absolute delight.

Plas Newydd as it was at least in the time of General Yorke, just showing his new wing at far left, with the mock-Tudor half- timbering on the original cottage, but retaining the canopied oriel windows and porch installed by the ladies.  Pre-dates the wing added by the Robertson brothers to the right. Source: People’s Collection Wales

Plas Newydd is not merely the story of the two ladies, Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby, who began its transformation from traditional cottage to glorious extravaganza of lovingly-collected decorative arts, but also captures the work of its subsequent owners who, while following in the footsteps of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby, continued to build on the imaginative legacy, adding ever-more creative features and curiosities.  The character of the building is unique.  Although it is an absolute riot of history, textures and ideas, somehow it works both as an aesthetic experiment and as a patchwork collection of earlier materials and styles.

View of Plas Newydd showing the addition of a new wing under the ownership of Mr George Henry Robertson and his brother, who purchased Plas Newydd in 1890. It lacks the hipped roof of the older cottage. The extension built by the previous owner, General Yorke, can just be made out at far left at an angle to the main house (see the photograph below for General Yorke’s wing). Source: The National Archives, ref. INF 9/641/7

The house is a palimpsest, meaning that when you visit, you are confronted with layer upon layer of addition and alteration, but there is no immediate sense of who added what or when.  Even for experts it has been difficult, and in some cases impossible, to establish a timeline for when the alterations to the interior of the building were made, when new features were added and by whom.  As none of the parties recorded their purchases and installations, distinguishing between wood carving additions made by the ladies and by General Yorke has been particularly difficult, because their respective collections derive from the same time period in the late 16th and 17th centuries.  It has been less of a challenge to establish a precise chronology for the exterior woodwork, partly because sketches, watercolours and photographs have helped to divide the work of the ladies from those of General Yorke and the Robertson brothers.

A gift from the Vicar of Ruthin

As an example of the palimpsest effect, the visitor’s first view of the exterior is dominated by the regimented decorative battens that imitate half-timbering with the striking urn motifs shown on the photograph above.  This actually belongs to the post-1876 activities of General Yorke, who purchased the property four decades after the death of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby, who were responsible for the elaborately decorated oak porches and the medieval style lancet windows.  From around 1814 the ladies also decided to panel the interior of their modest Welsh cottage with imported pieces of Elizabethan and Jacobean wood carving, and to fit fragments of earlier stained glass in some of their newly fitted lancet windows.  But it was General Yorke who created the Oak Room, which had been the kitchen in the days of the ladies.  In spite of the difficulties concerning the chronology of the installations, it is unarguable that the ladies were certainly responsible for the overall concept.

Now maintained by Denbighshire County Council, the property is beautifully cared for inside and out. The place has an incredibly intimate feeling that was would not have been recognized by any of the ecclesiastical and manorial contexts from which the carvings, leather hangings and stained glass were extracted.

Part 2 of this piece looks specifically at the stained glass, which was surveyed by Mostyn Lewis in 1970.  Part 3 provides short summaries of the “delftware” tiles, the leather wall hangings, the Lincrusta wallpaper and the plasterwork ceilings.  

 

Plas Newydd with Castell Dinas bran on the hill behind it

The library at Plas Newydd

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“The Ladies”

Ireland

Kilkenny Castle in 1832. Source: Wikipedia

Lady Eleanor Butler (1739–1829) and Miss Sarah Ponsonby (1755–1831) met at Kilkenny in Ireland, where Eleanor lived in the family home, Kilkenny Castle, and where Sarah was at the private school run by Miss Parkes, 12 miles away from her home in Inistioge.  Both of them were related to aristocratic families.  13-year old Sarah’s guardian Lady Elizabeth (Betty) Fownes, a cousin of her father, had asked Eleanor’s mother to keep an eye on her orphaned ward, and this task had been seconded to 29-year old Eleanor, the youngest of the Butler daughters and the only one who remained unmarried.  When they first met there was a 16 year difference in their ages, but they became very close, with Sarah’s more retiring and diplomatic character apparently complementing Eleanor’s more forceful and sardonic personality.  After Sarah’s departure from school at the age of 18 in 1773, she moved back to her guardians’ home Woodstock at Inistioge.  Sarah and Eleanor exchanged letters, building on their profound rapport, sharing their stories of mutual unhappiness in their respective homes, and offering each other support.

The ruins of Woodstock House. Source: Wikipedia

As an unmarried and recalcitrant spinster Eleanor was largely disregarded by her family, whilst the gentle Sarah, loved by Lady Betty, was receiving unwanted attention from Lady Betty’s husband Sir William who, according to his granddaughter, thought that Sarah might make a suitable replacement for Lady Betty, should her uncertain health leave him widowed.  Via their correspondence, the friendship deepened, and eventually they decided that leaving Ireland and setting up home together would provide them with the happiness that was otherwise lacking in their lives.  They first attempted to run away from their respective homes to leave Ireland in March 1778.  They were tracked down by Eleanor’s family, crushing their plans to board the ferry to Wales, and were returned to their respective homes.  Lady Eleanor’s mother attempted to convince her to enter a convent in France, where Eleanor had been educated, whilst Sarah was seriously discouraged from pursuing what Lady Betty thought would be a disastrous course of action for her orphaned ward.  When Eleanor again ran away and was found to be hiding in Sarah’s bedroom at her home, Woodstock, assisted by the redoubtable Woodstock maid Mary Carryl (alternatively spelled Carryll or Carol) who was smuggling food to Eleanor, both families were apparently convinced that the Eleanor and Sarah could not be dissuaded, and the two were grudgingly permitted by their families to depart for Wales to make new lives for themselves, accompanied by Mary Carryl.  They left Ireland by ferry in May 1778.

Beginnings in Wales

A very rough sketch of how the modest cottage looked before it was rented by the two ladies, adapted from a contemporary watercolour, in which the frontage is partially concealed by vegetation, included to show how simple the cottage was before modifications began

The ladies arrived in Milford Haven on 9th May 1778, and immediately set off on an adventurous tour of north Wales and the borders, first heading north to Machynlleth and on to Bangor  They visited Llangollen in their travels, but moved on afterwards.  As well as enjoying the opportunities for tourism, they were looking for somewhere suitable to settle down, and were becoming increasingly desperate to locate a suitable home as their funds began to diminish.  They returned to Llangollen later in 1778, staying first at Blaen Bach Farm for the winter, before moving in 1779 to a town property owned by the Llangollen postman.  In 1780 they were at last able to rent the cottage then known as Pen-y-Maes (meaning top of the field) from landlord John Edwards of Pengwern.

The ladies’ new home started its life as a traditional low-ceilinged 3-bay, 2-floor stone-built cottage with a central doorway, five rooms and attic space.  It is sited in a lovely location set above the river valley alongside the shallow and gently bubbling Cufflymen, which still filters water from the hillside into the Dee.  In the grounds were outbuildings including a single-storey stable building to the southwest of the house, which remains today, its construction marked by the inscribed date 1778, predating the arrival of the ladies by two years.  Beyond it, the picturesque ruins of the medieval castle Dinas Bran are visible from what was the field in front of the house where sheep were grazed and which now houses a formal yew garden and an early 20th century Gorsedd stone circle.  The lovely ruins of the medieval Valle Crucis Abbey were nearby. Both the castle and the abbey were features that resonated with the romantic historical idealism of Georgian and early Victorian society, and which very much appealed to the ladies.

Plas Newydd sometime between 1835 and 1850 by W. Crane showing Dinas Bran on top of the hill in the background. Source: People’s Collection Wales

Bringing Plas Newydd to life

Mary Carryl. Source: National Library of Wales via Wikipedia

Shortly after moving in to Pen-y-Maes cottage the ladies renamed it Plas Newydd, meaning new hall (plas translates roughly as country hall or small manor) and lived there for 50 years.  Their retinue was headed by Mary Carryl, the strong-minded Irish maid from Sarah Ponsonby’s home who remained with them as both employee and close friend until her death in 1809.  Mary had been known in Ireland as “Molly the Bruiser,” and Eleanor mentions hearing a dispute between Mary and a tradesman in which Mary emerged loudly triumphant.

In spite of their financial difficulties, described below, the cottage was evidently far too modest for the expansionist and artistic ambitions of the ladies.  In their hands, from the moment they arrived, it underwent a series of remarkable transformations.  For example, in 1785 they built a small dairy to the west of the house; sections of interior floor tiles were replaced with stone in 1788, when new carpets were also ordered; repairs to the roof and indoor varnishing and painting took place in 1789; and, in 1792, work included plastering and whitewashing, and the addition of a new cellar, a new room and walls in the garden.

Detail of the porch, installed in 1814, with one of the twin lions contributed by Arthur Wellesley

The work to transform the house from traditional Welsh cottage to artistic extravaganza began in around 1798 and was initially inspired by gothic architecture, primarily the pointed lancet arches that characterized their oriel (projecting) windows, the carved wood that framed them outside.  They also introduced stained glass, which was eventually installed in all the most important rooms.  The spectacular porch was installed in 1814 , complete with seating, carved pillars, a canopy, elaborate carvings and lions supplied by the Duke of Wellington. A porch-warming party celebrated its installation.  As well as the corner seats that resembles those in church porches, the front door showed the four evangelists together with the symbols with which they are associated, the underside of the vaulted canopy resembles the chapter house at Valle Crucis Abbey.  The 1988 guide book says that the window canopies over the lancet-shaped windows were a gift from the Duchess of St Albans, although it does not add how it came by this information or, for that matter, the Duchess of Albans might have come by the carvings.  The guide book adds that they show scenes from Greek, Eastern and Hindu mythology.

The stained glass “prismatic” arch between the dining room and library

Other additions were gothic style doors, sash windows, painted glass, and a “prismatic lantern arch” leading from the dining room into the library.  The ladies also filled the house with objects that fascinated them. They were particularly proud of an aeolian harp (a multi-stringed harp that plays itself in the wind – see the video at the end of this post), and their vast collection of books.  As early as 1795 poet Anna Seward referred to house as “the enchanting unique,” talking about the library of books in multiple languages. Although neither lady spoke Greek or Latin, Eleanor spoke fluent French and they taught themselves Italian and Spanish. Thirty years later another visitor, John Lockhart, wrote to his wife in 1825:

But who could paint the prints, the dogs, the cats, the miniatures, the cram of cabinets, clocks, glass cases, books, bijouterie, and whirligigs of every shape and huge – the whole house outside and In (for we must see everything to the dressing closets covered with carved oak – very rich and fine some of it – and the illustrated copies of Sir W’s poems [quoted in Mavor 1984]

Window canopy and surrounding panelling

From around 1814 the ladies began to collect wood carvings, most of which were Elizabethan-Jacobean style  (late 16th-17th century), and with which they panelled their home in a random but fascinating patchwork.  These are most evident in the hallway, the staircase, and the first landing as well as on fireplace surrounds and doors.  It is clear that furniture from churches and grand homes had been dismantled to provide many of these panels, which make up a wild jigsaw of imagery, emblems and patterns.  This remarkable project was preserved by successive owners and supplemented by General Yorke, who converted the kitchen into the Oak Room.

Walking from the little summer house, via steps and rustic fencing, towards the stream in 1835. Source: People’s Collection Wales

The ladies were also very active beyond the house, fulfilling their ambitions to create lovely gardens, both ornamental and practical, with floral and kitchen gardens.   These gardens, as well as the stream-side walks, became as famous as the house itself.  As well as shrubs, ornamental trees and flowerbeds they grew herbs, fruit and vegetables.  In 1789 they were able to list 43 different rose types planted in the garden.  One of the regular expenses listed in their accounts was “muck” to fertilize these new additions.

Ornamental elements extended into the garden, inspired by romantic landscaping publications of the day, eventually including a rustic “bower,” rustic wooden bridges over the stream, a stone shelter next to the stream built for a font liberated from Valle Crucis, a summerhouse above it,  rustic fencing and other little tweaks to complete a perfect extension of the house and its gardens.  Even the natural arrangement stones in the stream was considered to be displeasing, so workers were employed to reposition them to form a more suitably romantic scheme.  These ornamental features were influenced by the French book on the subject which they had in their library.

Although the gardens have been lost in their entirety, partly due to both the Yorke and Robertson extensions, it has been possible for Denbigh Council to recreate some of the ornamental features portrayed by Lady Henrietta Delamere in her sketches, and these really do capture the sense of how the woodland walks must have looked.

The summer house, rustic fence and the grotto-style structure containing the stone font, reached by a bridge over the stream

 

Living

The original watercolour of the two ladies by Mary Parker / Lady Leighton is now in the library at Plas Newydd. Source: People’s Collection Wales

In spite of their spending, the ladies were provided with only small incomes from their families after their departure, and money was a constant worry.  The ladies had ambitions for the house that far exceeded what their finances permitted, and regularly overspent.  The small annual amount supplied to Lady Eleanor by her very wealthy family almost certainly reflected their profound disappointment in her, which some of her letters to them only  served to exacerbate.  Miss Ponsonby’s guardian was not as wealthy but she provided Sarah with a small income, and after her death, Lady Betty’s daughter Mrs Tighe continued to provide Sarah with a small but generous allowance in spite of her own periods of financial difficulty.  In spite of hopes that Eleanor might inherit a significant sum from her parents when they died, she was to all intents and purposes disinherited; her father left her nothing and her mother left her only £100. Nothing was forthcoming when her brother succeeded to the family title in 1791.  For much of her time in Llangollen she was convinced that she had been denied a right to a far more substantial amount by the terms of her brother’s marriage settlement, a source of ongoing bitterness.  A small pension provided to the ladies by the state was very welcome, but unreliable.  A second pension added sometime later was of considerable help, but it too was unreliable.  They often had to request loans from friends, which they sometimes had difficulty repaying, and they were always worried about how to pay their debts to tradesmen.  On several occasions they were late with their rent.  The lack of financial stability is reflected in the many references to their financial embarrassments in Lady Eleanor’s journal, Miss Ponsonby’s accounts and many of their letters, but does not seem to have prevented lavish spending on both the house and on servants and labourers.  The risk of investing so much money and love on improving rented accommodation was demonstrated in 1800 when their landlord, the son of their original landlord, attempted to evict them. Legal steps were taken, and the disaster was averted.

Plas Newydd. Source: People’s Collection Wales

The ladies did take some measures to take advantage of their rural location to become dairy and horticultural producers.  They acquired a cow called Margaret in the 1780s, with three others eventually making up a small herd, and put some of their land down to potatoes which they were selling from at least 1797; barley from 1798 and from 1801 they began to sell butter.  Harvesting hay was an annual occurrence, some of which was used for feeding the cows, but some of which may also have been sold.  They built a poultry yard and had a kitchen garden which was quite clearly overflowing with produce including fruit trees, strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries and melons.  Vegetables included cucumbers, peas, mushrooms, potatoes, asparagus, artichokes and cabbages.  Of course there were overheads.  They were renting some of their land, had to pay for labour to work their horticultural projects, and they were purchasing fruit and vegetable stock and large quantities of muck as fertiliser, but it says much for them that they gave self-sufficiency in food and the sale of surplus their best efforts.

The Hand Hotel, Llangollen (with a rather intriguing plane at top!). Source: The People’s Collection Wales

Local connections and the roll-call of visitors, both welcome and unwelcome, meant that they were far from isolated.  They were introduced to the upper echelons of society in Llangollen and further afield by Lady Dungannon who lived in Brynkinalt near Chirk, made extensive use of the various services offered by the towns-people, and employed a number of servants inside and out.  Eleanor’s spiky personality put some of these relationships at risk, such as their valued friendship with the Barrett sisters Elizabeth and Laetitia and Miss Margaret Davies of Cae Glas, Oswestry;  and relationships with townspeople employed by them were frequently tested to breaking point, exemplified by their dispute with the landlord of The Hand Hotel, but they continued to form an important element of the Llangollen social landscape.  As they became tourist attractions, they became part of the economic reality of the town until the deaths of Eleanor in 1829 and Sarah in 1831.  The occasional fireworks emanating from Eleanor were apparently taken in the town’s stride, possibly due to Sarah’s more amiable personality.

The Ladies of Llangollen, Sarah left and Eleanor right, with the Valle Crucis font and the Gothic-style shelter surrounding it. Source: People’s Collection Wales

The duo became increasingly unconventional and very distinctive in appearance.  They wore riding dress all year round, and they both wore black beaver hats over cropped hair.  This was probably very practical for the lives they lead, but made them stand out, drawing attention.  They were described in 1820 by Charles Matthews in a letter to his wife as “dear antediluvian darlings attired for dinner in the same manified dress, with the Croix St Louis, and other orders, and myriads of large brooches, with stones large enough for snuff-boxes, stuck into their started neckloths.”  Matthews also refers to their powdered hair, black beaver hats and says that they “looked exactly like two respectable superannuated clergymen” (quoted in Mavor 1984).  The only authenticated portrait of them was made clandestinely by Mary Parker, later Lady Leighton, a visitor from Oswestry and amateur artist.  She sketched it in pencil under the table at Plas Newydd when she visited in 1828, later converting it to a water-colour, and still later it became an engraving. A lithograph by Lady Henrietta Delamere became popular but it is not known whether it was taken from life; I suspect that it was based on Mary Parker’s painting, because the heads and faces are at exactly the same angle as the earlier portrait.

The ladies loved to walk, and had a number of favourite circuits, both short and long, of which they were particularly fond, spotting wild flowers, identifying bird song and picking blackberries in the hedgerows.  As well as the exotic artifice that they constructed in house and garden, they loved what nature offered on their doorstep, and is a running theme in Eleanor’s journal.

Sunday January 17th. There is no describing the blazing beauty of the Morning. All the Mountains a glorious Purple and Gold.  Woods Sparkling with Gems. Smoke Silently Spinning in Columns to Heaven – chorus of Birds Hymning their Thanksgiving in every Thicket – tender Transparent Mist Exhaling from the River and Brooks – the Hoar frost Melting before the Suns Brilliant rays and disclosing Such Verdure.

A poem for the two ladies “To The Lady E. B. And The Hon. Miss P.”, written by Wordsworth after a visit in 1824. Source: The Simple Poetry website

Although the idea that had lead to their choice of home was one of peaceful retirement and idyllic retreat, this became more a matter of theory than practice after they became well known.  Soon news of their unconventional lives and appearances and their remarkable house and gardens spread.  They had located themselves in a beautiful part of Wales that was becoming a popular tourist destination, and were positioned conveniently close to Llangollen town centre.  They became a tourist destination in their own right, attracting well known names of the Regency and early Victorian periods, insisting that potential visitors request access in writing to introduce themselves.  There is a dauntingly long list of known visitors on the Early Tourists in Wales website, amongst whom were, in no particular order, the Duke of Wellington (at the time merely Arthur Wellesley), the Duke of Gloucester (nephew of King George III), William Wordsworth, the poet Anna Seward (a firm friend), Sir Walter Scott, Mary Berry, Caroline Lamb, Charles Darwin, Mr and Mrs Piozzi (Mrs Piozzi was the former Hester Thrale, who was close to Dr Johnson and was another firm friend), the Duke of Somerset, Sir Humphry Davy, Robert Southey, Prince and Princess Esterhazy, the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland and Josiah Wedgwood.  The January 1788 visit by Arthur Wellesley was commemorated with an inscription on the fireplace overmantel in the kitchen, now the Oak Room, with the initials EB and SP and the date 1814. Wordsworth composed a poem for them after his 1824 visit, although his reference to Plas Newydd as “low roofed cot” caused more offence than pleasure. The multitude of visits was all the more impressive given that Telford’s road between London and Holyhead did not fully open until 1826, and the railway did not reach Llangollen until 1862.

Initially renting the house, gardens and surrounding woodlands and fields, the ladies were eventually able to purchase the property in 1819 from the son of their original landlord, although given their constant shortage of funds, together with the lack of any records of where the money came from, it is not currently known how they could have afforded the purchase price. One suggestion is that the funds left to Sarah Ponsonby in Mary Carryl’s will when Mary  died in 1809 was the source of at least part of the sum.  Eleanor’s journal makes references to ongoing improvements in their financial situation, so perhaps they were left a bequest by some unnamed benefactor.
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Endings

The memorial in St Collen’s churchyard to Eleanor Butler, Sarah Ponsonby and Mary Carryl. Source: Coflein

Eleanor died on 2nd June 1829 at the age of 90 and Sarah only three years later on 8th December 1831 at the age of 76.  No cause of death for either seems to be known. Many of their closest friends and most of their family had predeceased them and it must have been a strange two years for Sarah, after Eleanor’s death, with no remaining family or close friends nearby.

Both ladies were buried in St Collen’s churchyard alongside Mary Carryl, with whom they share an unusual triangular monument.  A week-long auction followed Sarah’s death, taking place in 1832, selling off everything that was not actually a fixed part of the house itself.  Over 1000 books were sold, together with their furnishings.  Most of their paperwork, including journals, household accounts and letters were apparently disposed of, and only a few of these now survive.  Their gardens were largely destroyed when new extensions were added by subsequent owners, although Lady Delamere’s watercolours preserve aspects of the romantic woodland and stream-side walks.

Legacy

Chase of the Wild Goose book cover. Source: Good Reads

Their legacy is mixed.  Souvenirs were made and widely distributed, and these are of some interest as components of tourism history.  The ladies are now celebrated as the owners of the lovely and unconventional Plas Newydd, once again a major tourist attraction.  At the same time there has inevitably been some debate about the nature of their relationship.  It has been variously proposed that they had sisterly connection, that they were lesbian lovers, that their mutual affection was romantic but not sexual, or that they were simply inseparable kindred spirits.  Apart from their shared lives and shared bed, which are hardly conclusive indicators, there is little to indicate which is the best theory.

In 1936 Dr Mary Louisa Jordan wrote Chase of the Wild Goose, a fictional account based loosely on the lives of the ladies, published in 1936.  Dr Gordon used the basic story of the ladies as a platform to create a narrative about lesbian living, and it was republished in 2023.  Its author was responsible for a plaque to the two ladies in Llangollen’s St Collen’s church.

In 2022 a play called Celebrated Virgins by Katie Elin-Salt and Eleri B. Jones staged at Theatre Clwyd in Mold, based on the story of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby, suggested to one reviewer that it was “palpitating, more narrowly insistent on sexual yearning and the importance of acknowledging exchanges which were once forbidden” (Susannah Clapp in The Guardian) but this seems to be a minority interpretation, even by other reviewers of the same play in the same newspaper.

Whatever the case, the matter of whether their love was purely idealistic, romantic or had a sexual component seems, quite frankly, much less interesting today than could have been when they were alive and when they were accepted in the narrow society of Llangollen and the wider, more varied society of those who visited from London and elsewhere.  In the late 18th and early 19th century they seem to have been accepted for who they were rather than what they may have been.  Their eccentricity made them the subject of discussion, but they lived without scandal.
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Amelia Lolly and Charlotte Andrew

The house in around 1840. Source: Early Tourists in Wales

After Sarah’s 1831 death all the contents of the house were auctioned off over a week-long period in 1832.  The house was subsequently sold to another two spinster ladies resident in Llangollen, Miss Amelia Lolly from Manchester and Miss Charlotte Andrew from Liverpool.  They seemed to have decided to model themselves on Eleanor and Sarah, probably unaware that Eleanor, typically satirical, referred to them derisively as “the Lollies and Trollies,” a play on the names Lolly and Charlotte.

The new owners added a stuffed bear to the porch, which would probably have prompted an extremely acerbic comment from Eleanor.  They do not appear to have modified the house significantly, although they must have had to refurnish it.  They may, of course, have bought some items originally installed in the house at the auction following Sarah’s death, but they also presumably moved in their own furniture.  Their intention seems to have been to maintain the house in the condition in which it was left after the auction, and to benefit from its fame.  Under their tenure the house appears to have been run along the lines of a minor tourist attraction, with showings of the house organized for visitors.  It is not known whether they looked after the shrubberies and kitchen gardens, or the woodland features.  Whilst the house may have remained intriguing thanks to the lingering echo of its former owners, the absence of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby as its hosts probably reduced its curiosity value for tourists quite considerably.

Miss Andrew died in 1854 and Miss Lolly in 1861.  Both were buried in Llantysilio churchyard.  In 1864 a church window was installed in the church of Llantysilio in memory of Charlotte Andrew, showing Timothy reading the scriptures, fulfilling Paul’s command to him.  This window was moved to Trevor Church in 1893.

The house was bequeathed to a relative of Miss Lolly’s, a Mrs Couran, who owned it for some 15 years before selling it in 1873, when it was apparently leased.  In 1876 it was sold briefly to a new owner before being sold on to General John Yorke in May of that year.  General Yorke was an enthusiast for the precedent set by Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsobny, and built on their legacy with enthusiasm.
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General John Yorke

It was not until the purchase of the building in 1876 by General John Yorke C,B., son of Simon Yorke II of Erddig near Wrexham, that the vision of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby was significantly reinforced with new material.  The General had known the ladies as a child when, having fallen from his pony, the ladies had picked him up, ensured that he was in one piece, tidied him up and sent him on his way with pockets full of oranges.  He clearly remembered them with great fondness.

General John Yorke

General Yorke (1814–1890) began his military career in the British Army in 1832, rising through the ranks. He was left permanently lame in the Crimean War in 1854 due to a traumatic and irreversible injury to his leg, but continued to serve and was repeatedly promoted, being made a full general in 1877. He continued to have a role in the military until his death.

The General purchased the house in 1876, 45 years after the death of Sarah Ponsonby, and began to make major alterations that were, however, partially in keeping with the character of the building as left by Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby.  Thanks to his greater resources, his vision was even more elaborate and adventurous than those of the two ladies.  The ladies might have been just as extravagant had the means been available to them, but General Yorke seems to have followed very efficiently in their footsteps.

The black wooden battens with urn motifs that emulate half-timbering date to its ownership by Yorke.  Oblique photographs of the extension added by General Yorke survive, showing how the new wing was at an angle to the original cottage, creating an L-shaped plan.  The extension was removed in the early 1960s due to dry rot.

The new wing added to the side of the original building by General Yorke showing how he continued the tradition of wooden window frames and canopies and exterior panel work and added his own mock-Tudor half timbering. Source: The Sketch, 15th April 1903, The British Newspaper Archive

Inside both old and new buildings, General Yorke had both the means and the inclination to extend the collection of Jacobean oak, as well as introducing painted leather, and eventually lined nearly every wall on the ground floor that was not otherwise adorned with oak with impressed and painted leather and lincrusta wall paper.  His main contribution to the original cottage was the Oak Room, which is a richly ornate celebration of Elizabethan-Jacobean wood and leather work.  Built in what was the kitchen when the ladies were alive, the oak room became both a drawing room and display area.  General Yorke’s kitchen was located in his new wing, shown above.  An inscription over the fireplace with the initials of the lady with the date 1814 and the stained glass are the only original pieces remaining.  As well as 17th century wall hangings made of gilded leather, and 19th century lincrusta wallpaper, the dominant feature of the room is a canopy of wood over more wooden features and a carved oak settle said to have come from a Spanish monastery, although no details are available about which monastery or how it was supposed to have been acquired by the general. It is flanked by ornate leather wall hangings.  The photograph below shows it on the left, and there is a more complete view further down the page.  There are also two panelled recesses, one of which incorporates a pew that belonged to the ladies and is said to come from a Llangollen church.  The main door into the room is also carved and there are carved cupboard doors.  All the fabrics and furnishings are part of the refurbishment of the building.

Detail of the Oak Room showing both carved oak and gilded and painted leather work

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The gorgeous delftware tiles are thought to have been installed by the general, and it seems probable, although I cannot find any specific reference, that the magnificent ceilings were also installed by General Yorke.  Yorke’s approach has been described as “antiquarian” and there is certainly something of the Victorian gentleman collector-cum-historian about General York’s approach to making Plas Newydd a repository not only of decorative arts but also of curiosities, much in the style of Lieutenant General Augustus Henry Lane Fox Pitt-Rivers.  This is the impression that it made on John Murray, who described it as follows in his Handbook for travellers in North Wales, (5th edition, 1885, pages 19-20, quoted on the Early Tourists in Wales website:

The veteran officer who now owns Plas Newydd, has not only zealously preserved it with all its quaint decorations within and without but has greatly added to its curiosities in the way of old furniture, pictures, painted glass, and sculpture – those in ivory executed by himself. He has in fact converted the house in to a Museum of Vertu, a sort of Welsh Strawberry Hill, for the which, as well as for the singular beauty of the spot, Plas Newydd is well worthy of a visit. Visitors pay a fee of 6d., which goes to some local charity.

 

A postcard of the house shows the library with some of the carved ivory work mentioned above protected by glass domes.  There is barely a free surface in the place.  Another postcard, of the Oak Room, shows the extensive carvings and leather-work. Pity whoever had to keep this lot clean and dust-free!

General Yorke’s Oak Room, replacing the former kitchen. Source: People’s Collection Wales

The Coflein website says that by the time Yorke arrived at Plas Newydd the ornamental garden and woodland architectural features, all made of perishable materials, had “fallen into decay,” but what was left of the gardens appears to have remained well stocked whilst he was there.  The photograph further up the page showing his new wing certainly shows what appears to be a well-stocked flower bed had been added in front of the new wing.  The wonderful mock-Tudor water tower in the gardens was one of General Yorke’s additions, and the Coflein website says that where the 1958 ‘Bards’ Memorial’ of 1958. now stands used to be the site of General Yorke’s peacock house, which I would have liked to have seen.

General Yorke’s water tower at Plas Newydd

George Hunter Robertson

George Hunter Robertson. Source: Bygone Liverpool via from London and Lancashire Fire Insurance

The house was sold to George Hunter Robertson of Liverpool in 1890, a wealthy cotton broker who owned the house until 1910, and added his own personality to it.  He apparently shared it with his brother.  He was recorded as a member of the Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeological Society in its 1875 edition. His addition of a new wing at Plas Newydd built to emulate the style of General Yorke demonstrates that like General Yorke, he had an antiquarian interest in re-assembling components of the past.

Even with General Yorke’s large extension, the property was too small for its new occupant, and he added another wing, this time in a line with the original cottage.  This was provided with some pseudo half-timbering, but of a less elaborate type than that of General Yorke.  It looks as though it had a flat roof, or at least a very shallow hipped roof, making its appearance in photographs look most peculiar, almost an afterthought.  As with General Yorke’s extension, this was removed in the early 1960s due to dry rot, and the end of the original building was provided with a simplified half-timbered appearance to blend in with the frontage, which it retains today.

View of Plas Newydd showing the addition of a new wing, without the hipped roof of the older cottage.  General York’s wing can just be seen at far left.  Also visible is the new formal yew garden. Source: The National Archives, ref. INF 9/641/7

According to Coflein, it was Mr Robertson who created the formal garden with its golden yew shrubs and box-hedging. The yew garden incorporates the base of a cross on a stepped plinth, which is said to have been the 15th century Chester marketplace cross, although I have seen nothing to confirm that this is the actual provenance. Nearby is a font said to be from Llangollen parish church.  I remain unclear about whether these were acquired by the Robertsons or were already there, although the font from Valley Crucis, built into a little shelter by the side of the stream was an acquisition of the ladies.

In 1908 a Gorsedd stone circle with a flat stone at its centre was erected on the lawn just beyond this formal garden for the Llangollen hosting of the National Eisteddfod. The Gorsedd circle was a traditional element of the Eisteddfod celebration of Druidic traditions, and was used to host associated ceremonies.

Gorsedd circle with Plas Newydd beyond and Castell Dinas Bran on top of the hill in the background

After the Robertsons, the house was sold to Mrs G.M. Wilson who lived in it until 1918.  It was sold in 1919 to the 7th Earl of Tankerville whose son sold it to Llangollen Town Council in 1932.===

Plas Newydd 1930 – 1960s

Plas Newydd immediately following the destruction of General Yorke’s wing in the 1960s following the discovery of extensive dry rot. Source: People’s Collection Wales

In 1932 the property was purchased by Llangollen Town Council for £3320 after they had secured a loan to do so, a superb decision.  It was opened to the public a mere year later in 1933.

The wings of Plas Newydd, built by General Yorke and the Robertsons, were occupied in 1934 by the Welsh National Theatre, but in the 1960s they were both found to have pervasive dry rot and had to be knocked down.  Dry rot, which usually finds a home in damp wood, is a fungus, the appropriately named Serpula lacrymons (loosely translated as creeping tear-maker). It is catastrophic if not caught early enough, disintegrating wood and causing destruction of structural integrity.  It is the sort of discovery that plunges the owners of old houses into terror, and it is not at all surprising that in order to save the core of Plas Newydd the wings were removed.  It is a crying shame but probably the right decision.  The salvaged antique wood and furniture were sold at that time.

Plas Newydd Today

The house is run today by Denbighshire County Council as a visitor attraction, and they do an absolutely splendid job.  The house and its contents are absolutely sparkling.

Although the 1832 auction removed all of the free-standing furnishings and individual objects owned by the ladies, a few are now on display at the house.  These include a pair of embroidered shoes thought to have been worn by Lady Eleanor and embroidered by Sarah, who was an indefatigable embroiderer whilst Eleanor read to her from their extensive library.  Replacement items have also been sourced to emulate the earlier contents, including furniture and objects that would have filled the house.  One or two of these were mentioned in the journal, including an aeolian (wind) harp.  These help to give a sense of how the house would have looked in the late 18th and 19th centuries.

Woodland walk leading from the rear of Plas Newydd through light woodland and leading to Lady Eleanor’s bower and then down to the stream

The gardens are worth a walk around but would probably not be recognizable to either the ladies or General Yorke. I suspect that General Yorke’s extension, which was quite a substantial affair, sat squarely over part of the gardens as they had been when the ladies had the property.  There is so little known about Amelia and Charlotte that it is not known whether or not they maintained the gardens.  The original yew garden at the front of the property dated to the occupancy of Mr Robertson and his brother (1890-1910), and there are some attractive woodland walks, but the earlier gardens with their considerable investment in flower beds and shrubberies, where the ladies used to sit and read, are now lost.   Following Mr Robertson, there was at least one period when they house was not used as a permanent residence, and as anyone who has owned a garden will know, given half a chance nature will revert any formal garden to a far more chaotic state.  Fruit trees and ornamental shrubs, too, have finite lives which, although they can run into many decades, will not last eternally and will eventually need to be replaced with new stock.  Whilst notes were made in the journal of some of the plantings and comments about them survive in visitor letters, nothing remains to suggest how these gardens were arranged and what they looked like.

 

 

At first glance I thought that this was the library at Plas newydd, but it is clearly not. This does not match any of the rooms in the current cottage, so must have come from one of the two later wings, probably from the time of General Yorke when the house was run as a museum. Source: RCAHMW

 

Final Comments

Plas Newydd does a very good job of speaking for itself.  It is quite amazing that it remains in such good condition after the deaths of Lady Eleanor and Miss Ponsonby, subsequently preserved by Miss Lolly and Miss Andrew, elaborated and extended by General Yorke, and further extended by Mr Robertson.  It is a real shame that the two wings, added by General Yorke and Mr Robertson respectively, had to be destroyed, as they were an integral part of the story of Plas Newydd, but it is a mercy that the original cottage remains.

The aesthetic ideals adopted by the two ladies and preserved by subsequent owners, first emulating the Gothic and then the late Tudor and Stuart periods, using salvaged carved wood and stained glass and other decorative arts, is not to everyone’s taste.  In her book The Ladies of Llangollen, the main biographer of the ladies, Elizabeth Mavor, commented on the “regrettably” added oriel and canopied windows, described their porch as “a rich and appalling riot of carving” and referred to General Yorke’s contributions as “mistaken alterations,” but whether it appeals or appals, it is still a remarkable vision, quite unique, and it is a fabulous place to visit.  I love it.

==
Visiting

My thanks to Helen Anderson for driving us on our first visit, which always gives me the chance to sit and enjoy the scenery, a real treat.

Plas Newydd sits just above Langollen, just off the A5, and is very easy to find.  I tapped the postcode (LL20 8AW) into the Google Maps SatNav and it took us straight there.  Although very near the town centre, a short way up a hill, there is no sense of being so near to the town and its surrounding residential areas.  Beyond and above the house, and looking sensational, are the ruins of Dinas Bran castle.  In front of it is a formal rose garden within yew hedges, and beyond there are cleverly shaped topiary trees, with an early 19th century Gorsedd stone circle beyond, created for the 1908 Llangollen Eisteddfod.  It is a very attractive location.

Parking seems to be confined to the approach lane and around the circular drive itself.  We were there quite early on an overcast weekday morning in July and were able to park, but it might be more of a challenge at a busier and sunnier time as there does not seem to be an overflow car park.

Tickets are available in the nearby café and shop.  You go to the counter where food is paid for to buy your ticket for the house (the grounds are free of charge to visit).   See the website for seasonal opening times and pricing information but do note that the house closes completely off-season (in 2025, for example, it opened on April 1st).  There is a lovely café, also seasonal, where the ticket offices is located, which was serving some splendid looking meals, both indoors and out.  If you do a web search for Plas Newydd do make sure that you are looking at the site in Llangollen and not the National Trust house of the same name on Anglesey.

A pair of embroidered shoes reputedly worn by Lady Eleanor Butler. Source: People’s Collection Wales

The ticket price includes an audio device, if you would like one, which you touch to a receiver in each room to hear details as you go around.  It is not absolutely necessary if this is not your cup of tea as there are other information sources, but there is some very useful information in the recordings that I had not found elsewhere.  There is an exhibition room on the first floor, far right, if you want to see some very useful background information before you start, which acts as a miniature visitor centre, containing objects belonging to the ladies.  There are also plenty of laminated information sheets to pick up and read in each room as you walk round, in English and Welsh, and lots of ring-binders to open with plenty more details about the house and its owners, including excerpts from Lady Eleanor’s journal and pages from the auctioneers sale of their books after they died.

Plas Newydd dining room table, set up with loose-leaf folders and laminated pages in English and Welsh for visitors to read. Take a look at the long, long listing of the books that were auctioned after Miss Ponsonby’s death.

On a nice day there are many walks on public footpaths that start from Plas Newydd, some of which retrace the steps of the two ladies, who were enthusiastic and energetic walkers.

View of “the dell” showing the stream that runs along the valley next to Plas Newydd in around 1835.  Eleanor and Sarah had passed away in 1829 and 1831 respectively, but one of their ornamental bridges, now replaced with a stone one, was still in service. Source: People’s Collection Wales

My personal sketch of the grounds, scribbled for my own benefit before my April visit, is based on the one printed in the guide book published in 1988.  I’ve used it to find my way around, and the paths, coloured in orange are still where marked.  Of course feel free to use it, but it has nothing to do with anything faintly resembling scale!  It took me about 30 minutes to do the full circuit, but I was stopping to take photos.  It is pure laziness that I didn’t do something a little more dignified in software, or even sketch it out more neatly.  Plas Newydd is the big purple rectangle at top left and the yellow blobs next to it represent the yew trees of the formal garden established during Mr Robertson’s tenure.  The green blobs are trees, and I think that the rest is pretty much self explanatory.  The house is on a hill, so there is a slope from the level of the house down to the stream.  If you don’t fancy the walk you can still stand in Lady Eleanor’s reconstructed bower and look down on the stream and the flanking woodlands.  Don’t miss the stone font said to be from Valle Crucis Abbey, marked at bottom right.  The garden and woodland walks are lovely, because of the wild flowers, which in early spring include swathes of purple crocus on the grass in front of the house, and later on, blankets of primroses, snake’s head fritillaries and fresh white blossom.  In the dell, beside the bubbling stream and its little water falls, are endless carpets of white-flowered wild garlic and bluebells.


===

For people with unwilling legs, be warned that to get the full value of the house there are quite a few stairs to negotiate, and there are no elevators or other methods of ascending to the upper storeys.  The flight of stairs leading to Mary Carryl’s room in the attic is particularly steep and narrow, although the stained glass is worth the trip.  Failing the stairs, the ground floor alone has plenty to see, including many of the best features.  The gardens are easily accessible via well maintained gravel paths, but the woodland and stream-side walks require a bit more careful footwork via sloping gravel paths.  With care, these are very accessible.

Valle Crucis Cistecian Abbey, founded 1201, a beautiful and peaceful site run by Cadw. Check opening times as it is only open on certain days during the season.

This could easily be turned into a day trip.  Just a little further afield, and which I have blogged about before, are the Valle Crucis abbey ruins, which is a spectacularly lovely medieval site, with a cache of nicely decorated medieval grave slabs held in the former dormitory.  It preserves a lovely chapter house, the interesting abbot’s quarters, a stunning corbelled vestry and many other very attractive features.  Also nearby is Thomas Telford’s beautiful Horseshoe Falls, which can be incorporated into a walk along the Llangollen canal.  Castell Dinas Bran is accessible both from the town (quite a strenuous walk) and from the panorama road (much less of an effort, with fabulous views from the road, but very narrow with passing places and no official parking).  Dinas Bran is on my to-do list for this summer.  All of these sites were known by the inhabitants of Plas Newydd.

Pontcysyllte aqueduct, over which the ladies travelled in a narrowboat on its opening day

Slightly further away, but on the route between Llangollen and Chester / Wrexham is the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, the opening event of which the ladies, as local notables, attended on the second of the boats in the official ceremony, sailing over the aqueduct.   The towpath, shown left, is usually quite busy on a nice day, but is shown here completely (and somewhat eerily) free of visitors.  The views over the rail are exceptional.

In Llangollen itself, options include a steam train trip, a canal boat cruise, a short stroll along the river promenade, and the tiny but well-stocked town museum (but check opening times), and there are plenty of places to stop for lunch.  In the summer I recommend that if you want to eat at somewhere particular in Llangollen you book a table in advance or you may find yourself stuck.
===

=
Sources

A note on sources of information

Most of what is known about Eleanor and Sarah comes from their own diaries and accounts, as well as letters they wrote and letters written by others in which they were mentioned.  In her book The Ladies of Llangollen, Elizabeth Mavor provides details of all of the available resources that she was able to consult for that book, and although that book was published in 1971 most of the privately held collections of letters that she was able to consult have yet to be digitized and made available online; Others that are retained in libraries like the Bodleian, the John Rylands and the National Library of Wales have likewise not yet been made available online.  Combined, the correspondence covers some of the years between  1790 and 1831. Although Eleanor’s journals have become the main source of information about their lives, many months and years are missing.  Samples of the diaries are contained in files that can be browsed within Plas Newydd itself, and a selection of entries have been published in Elizabeth Mavor’s 1984 hardback A Year with the Ladies of Llangollen (published in paperback under the title Life with the Ladies of Llangollen, although it is exactly the same book).  Of Sarah’s journals nothing remains except her account of their tour of Wales and the Borders when they first left Ireland.  There seems to be very little information about General Yorke, which is a real shame, and nor is there much about the Robertson brothers.

Online, the best resource for primary sources on the subject of Plas Newydd and its various owners and occupants is on the Early Tourists in Wales website, a superb resource that has collated much of the available information.  The People’s Collection in Wales has some fascinating images of the cottage and its contents in the form of paintings, photographs and postcards, (see Sources at the end for full details and page links).  The Curious Travellers website also has some very useful information to impart, including excerpts from Sarah Ponsonby’s pre-Plas Newydd travels around Wales and Shropshire.  The Ladies of Llangollen blog has some if not all of the letters between the ladies and Hester Piozzi (formerly Thrale) and a comprehensive set of those between the ladies and Anna Seward, all available from its Correspondence and Correspondents page.

 

Books, booklets and Papers

Harris, John. 2007. Moving Rooms. The Trade in Architectural Salvages. Yale University Press

Hubbard, Edward and Pevsner, Nicholas 1986. The Buildings of Wales. Clwyd (Denbighshire and Flintshire).  Penguin Books

Mavor, Elizabeth 1971, 2011 (2nd edition). The Ladies of Llangollen. A Study in Romantic Friendship. Moonrise Press.  Does not always cite her sources for specific quotations and references.

Mavor, Elizabeth 1984.  Life with the Ladies of Llangollen. Viking (hardback).  N.B. This was published, word for word and page for page, image for image, in Penguin in 1986 in paperback as A Year with the Ladies of Llangollen.  Do not make my mistake of buying the same book twice just because the titles are different! 
The format is rather strange, in that the information is listed first by month and then by year, so that all the journal entries for January in every given year are listed in the first chapter, and then all for February and so on.  I would have found it more informative if it had listed by year, from earliest to latest.  I suppose it gives a sense of how each month in all years may have passed, but it gives no sense of the cumulative passing of time over the lives of the ladies and how their lives changed over their time at Plas Newydd.

Veysey, A. Geoffrey and Freeman, David 1980.  Plas Newydd and the Ladies of Llangollen. Glyndwr District Council.  (16-page visitor guide based on the booklet by Veysey, County Archivist for Clwyd County Council, published in 1988.  Two sections were substantially updated by Freeman – the Oak Room and the Ladies’ Bedchamber).

Websites

British Listed Buildings
Plas Newydd. A Grade II* Listed Building in Llangollen, Denbighshire
https://britishlistedbuildings.co.uk/300001127-plas-newydd-llangollen

Bygone Liverpool
Liverpool’s Slave Gate
https://bygoneliverpool.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/liverpools-slave-gate-copyright-bygone-liverpool-1st-january-2023-2.pdf

Cadw
The Ladies of Llangollen
https://cadw.gov.wales/ladies-llangollen

Coflein
PGW (C) 48
coflein.gov.uk/media/16/343/cpg069.pdf
Plas Newydd, Llangollen. Site Record
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/27760/
Plas Newydd, Upper Garden
https://coflein.gov.uk/en/site/266455/

Curious Travellers
Anne Lister’s diary, tour of North Wales 11-27 July 1822
https://editions.curioustravellers.ac.uk/doc/0023?ref=pe0954#footnoteref53
Eleanor Butler and Sarah Ponsonby, Account of a Journey in Wales; Perform’d in May 1778 By Two Fugitive Ladies. Edited with an introduction by Elizabeth Edwards in Curious Travellers
https://editions.curioustravellers.ac.uk/pages/show.html?document=0004.xml

Denbighshire County Council
Plas Newydd, Llangollen
https://www.denbighshire.gov.uk/en/leisure-and-tourism/museums-and-historic-houses/plas-newydd-llangollen.aspx

Early Tourists in Wales (N.B. an invaluable resource for Plas Newydd, of which the links below are just a small sample click on the first link to see all the available pages)
By Michael David Freeman
Home page for Plas Newydd and the Ladies of Llangollen
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/attractions/mansions-and-grounds/ladies-of-llangollen/
Descriptions of Plas Newydd and the Ladies of Llangollen
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/attractions/mansions-and-grounds/ladies-of-llangollen/descriptions-of-plas-newydd-and-the-ladies-of-llangollen/
Plas Newydd Kitchen Garden
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/attractions/mansions-and-grounds/ladies-of-llangollen/the-grounds/kitchen-garden/
Ladies of Llangollen Portraits
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/attractions/mansions-and-grounds/ladies-of-llangollen/descriptions-of-eleanor-butler-and-sarah-ponsonby/ladies-of-llangollen-portraits/
Plas Newydd Carved Wood
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/attractions/mansions-and-grounds/ladies-of-llangollen/plas-newydd-the-house/plas-newydd-carved-wood/
Ownership
https://sublimewales.wordpress.com/attractions/mansions-and-grounds/ladies-of-llangollen/ownership/

English Heritage
Lasting Impressions: The Ladies of Llangollen Portraits at Audley End (Members’ Area)
https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/audley-end-house-and-gardens/history-and-stories/ladies-of-llangollen-portraits/?utm_source=The%20English%20Heritage%20Trust&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=14877625_Members%27%20newsletter%20-%2013th%20February%2025&utm_content=ladies%20of%20llangollen

The Gateacre Society
Gateacre’s Slave Gate: Was the Story True?
https://gateacresociety.co.uk/?page_id=568

Geocaching.com
The Eisteddfod Stones
https://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC6P1CZ

Geograph.org.uk
Water Tower, Plas Newydd, Langollen
https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/3583171

The Guardian
Celebrated Virgins. By Gareth Llŷr Evans, Thursday 26th May 2022
https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2022/may/26/celebrated-virgins-review-ladies-of-llangollen
The week in theatre: The Father and the Assassin; Celebrated Virgins; Legally Blonde. By Susannah Clapp, Sunday 19th May 2022
https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2022/may/29/the-father-and-the-assassin-national-theatre-olivier-review-celebrated-virgins-theatre-clwyd-mold-legally-blonde-regents-park-open-air
‘Darling of my heart’: the irresistible love story of the Ladies of Llangollen. By Emma Beddington, Tuesday 31st January 2023
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jan/31/sarah-ponsonby-eleanor-butler-love-story-ladies-of-llangollen-wales

History Points
Trevor Church
https://historypoints.org/index.php?page=trevor-church

House and Heritage
Plas Newydd, 16th March 2018
https://houseandheritage.org/2018/03/16/plas-newydd/

Kilkenny Castle
http://www.kilkennycastle.ie
Explore the Castle
https://www.kilkennycastle.ie/about/explore-the-castle-new/
Audio Guide
https://www.kilkennycastle.ie/audio-guide/
Visitor’s Guide leaflet
https://www.kilkennycastle.ie/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Visitors-Leaflet-English_compressed.pdf

Ladies of Llangollen blog
By Kelly M. McDonald
https://ladiesofllangollen.wordpress.com/

The National Archives
The Ladies of Llangollen. By Hanna Griffiths.  Tuesday 8th February 2022
https://blog.nationalarchives.gov.uk/the-ladies-of-llangollen/

The National Library of Wales
Plasnewydd Library Catalogue 1792
https://viewer.library.wales/6043853#?xywh=-2355%2C-1%2C8159%2C4390&cv=

The Open University – UK Reading Experience Database
Lady Eleanor Butler
https://www.open.ac.uk/Arts/reading/UK/browse_reader_readings.php?s=Butler&f=Lady+Eleanor

Peoples Collection Wales
Plas Newydd, Llangollen
https://www.peoplescollection.wales/items/37618#?xywh=0%2C-74%2C1476%2C1186
https://www.peoplescollection.wales/discover/query/plas%20newydd%20llangollen
Nicely detailed photograph of Plas Newydd exterior
https://www.peoplescollection.wales/items/41074#?xywh=97%2C317%2C982%2C789

Winckley Square Gardens
Ladies of Llangollen
https://www.winckleysquarepreston.org/heritage/ladies-of-llangollen/

 

 

 

A thoroughly enjoyable visit to a splendidly sunny Chester Zoo

I’ve been a member of Chester Zoo for years, although I cannot remember the last time I got around to visiting.  It is a super place to visit at this time of year, because although there are plenty of people around, and quite a few young kids, it is anything but crowded and there’s no queueing or having to wait in turn for a good view. I was supposed to be doing good works in my garden today, but looking at the sun, and considering my options, it suddenly seemed like a good idea to abandon the weeds and go and inspect the baby elephant in person.

Last time I was there I was really impressed with some of the innovative changes, not only to the animal houses and paddocks but to the walkways between enclosures, which included boardwalks and raised walkways, with a growing emphasis on flora as well as fauna.  All of the walkways are lined with what are now increasingly mature trees and shrubs, many of them specimen pieces, and lots of them labelled with their species name and additional information.  This lavish plant life extends into many of the animal enclosures.  There is a sense of everywhere being green and floral wherever you look, and this is really impressive.  The new zone based around a wending water feature is particular lavish in this respect, giving a real sense of being out of the busy world beyond the zoo.  All of the green and water areas support not only the official zoo residents but the local wildlife too, including water birds, garden birds and insect life, both of the crawling and flying varieties.  Plant species have been selected, for example, to encourage bees, and the lowly mallards looked very much at home.

As ever at Chester Zoo the emphasis is on conservation and their breeding programme, and there were plenty of babies around to demonstrate their successes, as well as multiple  information boards dotted around that explain not only the zoo’s residents and their habitats but also how the zoo itself is helping to promote their survival worldwide, with partnerships with other organizations.

It was far from hot today, although the spring sun was lovely, but it was terrific to see many of the animals enjoying their water features.  There were notable exceptions, including the giant otters who were having a marvellous time sunbathing, a seriously mellow lioness and a very lazy cheetah who seemed to melting into the sunshine.  There was a lot of very contented laziness on display!  At the same time, it is always superb to see various different monkey and apes enjoying their enclosures inside and out, with a lot of energy on display.

The new “pink zone” which has a southeast Asian theme and is organized around a winding circular waterway is excellent, with some great features and, should you be hungry, a southeast Asian-style fast food restaurant.  I had just stuffed myself with an enormous Mr Whippy or I would have gone for it, as that sort of cuisine is just up my street.

The monorail has been taken down, but this has lead to an expansion of the walkways.  At the moment the Heart of Africa section is being reconfigured, meaning that much of that area is not accessible, so the giraffe house is not available, and the zebras were not visible, but this should change by the summer.  At the moment some of the bird venues are closed due to bird flu, a very good precaution.

 

 

And it did!

Opening times and prices are on the Chester Zoo website here. You can download the map from the Zoo’s website here, or you can pay a £1.00 for a printed version at the ticket office.   All the Chester Zoo people, whether you are having your bag checked at the security desk, buying an ice cream or asking directions are super-friendly and really helpful.

A great day out. It is super to see how the zoo continues to innovate and to extend its offering.

 

Lord Leverhulme’s multifarious collections at the Lady Lever Art Gallery in Port Sunlight, Wirral

The Lady Lever Art Gallery is in a fabulous location within the village of Port Sunlight.  Port Sunlight was the brainchild of William Hesketh Lever, who in 1911 became Baronet Lord Lever, and in 1917 Baron Lord Leverhulme, honoured for his contributions to industry, commerce and the economy. He was also remembered, amongst other achievements, for his three years as a Liberal M.P., his philanthropy and his art collections.  Just off the A41, an unattractive stretch of the road characterized by untidy industrial and retail parks, the village remains a genuinely surprising and perfectly charming near-utopia of green spaces, wide boulevard-style roads and a splendid mixture of compact homes with gardens and small civic buildings, all built in a variety of architectural styles, all vernacular.  Port Sunlight, named for one of the soap brands that Lever produced (Sunlight Soap), was built for the workers in the nearby factory.  The Neoclassical architecture of the art gallery stands out as a monument in its own right.  It was, indeed, a memorial to Lever’s late wife Elizabeth Ellen Hulme, who died in 1913, and whom he always stated was his inspiration.  Although the gallery served the practical purpose of housing the best of Lord Lever’s private collections, which had outgrown his own numerous homes, it was more importantly built  on his philanthropic urge to improve conditions and provide educational facilities for the working class families of his factory employees.

The Lady Lever Art Gallery. Photograph by Rich Daley, Wikimedia

Originally the museum was designed to be entered from the front, its big entrance overlooking the boating pond and the long green avenue beyond towards the massive war memorial.  Today the boating pond has been drained of water, with warning signs to prevent people climbing in (Julian, with whom I visited, predicts that it will become a flower bed!).  There is plenty of free parking in front of the museum, as well as on the surrounding roads.  Today the entrance to the gallery is at the side, left as you face the front, next to a ramp that leads to the basement with its excellent café and its little shop.  There is no charge for visiting the permanent collection.  You are offered a  map at the desk, and we did find that this was helpful, although once you have worked out that it is organized by rooms around a main hall, with a circular room at each end, each linking together another set of rooms, it’s very straight-forward to navigate.  Having said that, looking at the map at home after the visit I realized that there were two upstairs galleries, each a corridor that flanks the main hall, which we missed.  According to the map these apparently display 19th and 20th century art.  Next time!

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Lion-headed table support, which would have been one of three or more. Roman. c.100AD

The easiest way to convey the overall impression of the Lady Lever Art Gallery is to characterize it as a miniature V&A.  Although there is a large collection of oil paintings and some water colours, there is also an emphasis on decorative arts including furniture, china, sculpture, tapestries, and embroidery.  The multinational character of the collection is impressive and begins, chronologically, with some Classical objects, as well as a couple of items from ancient Egypt.  Lord Lever had a great love of Chinese porcelain and his taste extended from the simplest of the blue and white patterns to the most elaborate and exotic polychrome extravaganzas.  There are a number of very fine Indian items, but perhaps not as many as there might have been given how long the East India Company had had its claws hooked into India’s social, economic and cultural landscape.  There is a small collection on display of ethnographic objects, although Lord Lever collected over 1000 pieces, and there are also a tiny number of ancient Egyptian objects, the bulk having been loaned to the Bolton Museum and Art Gallery.  He also collected a massive amount of Wedgwood, including fireplaces and pieces on which Josiah Wedgwood collaborated with George Stubbs.  Impressively, Lord Lever’s collection included Elizabethan and Jacobean furnishings, which are not always well represented in British museum and art gallery collections, and are really good examples of their types.

Oinochoe, used to pour wine into cups. Italian, in the style of a Corinthian vase. c.625-600BC.

12th Dynasty Egyptian stone components of an eye

Anglo-Indian commode, 1770-80. Engraved ivory veneered on a sandalwood carcase, originally fitted with specimen draws (now missing). An English design made at Vizagapatam.

English or German “Nonsuch” chest dated 1592 (corresponding to the late Elizabethan period)

Detail of an English or Dutch chair (one of a pair), 1690-1710, emulating the Jacobean style, with mermaids and the bust of a crowned queen

 

Wedgwood

1780-90 Wedgwood Caneware teapot

 

The wall decoration in the Adam Room

There are five rooms that skilfully recreate a particular period in all its details, from wall treatments and light fittings to furnishings and art works which.  These recreated rooms are splendid today but in the days before the National Trust and day-trips to aristocratic houses must have been a real revelation to visitors.  Examples are the Adam Room and the William and Mary Room.  Both Julian and I were horrified by the Napoleon Room;  no matter how hard I tried, I was unable to find anything in it of aesthetic merit in it, although the sheer excess of it all did make me grin.  There is always something to love in mad committent to a particular passion.

Sculpturally, Lord Lever’s taste extended from the Classical to the modern including, very surprisingly, a Joseph Epstein sculpture, and the variety of forms and styles is remarkable, although I have the impression that the quality is far more variable than in other art forms in the gallery.  There are, however, some very fine Roman cineraria (small stone caskets that hold ashes of the dead).

In oil painting, Lord Lever’s taste focused mainly, but not exclusively, on contemporary and slightly earlier artists including George Stubbs, Joseph Mallord William Turner, William Etty, Thomas Gainsborough, Joshua Reynolds, Elizabeth Vigée Le Brun and George Romney, as well as a notable selection of those from the Pre-Raphaelite school including William Holman Hunt, John Everett Millais, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Edward Burne-Jones.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s “The Blessed Damozel.” There is an article about the painting on the Lady Lever Art Gallery website.

The glorious “The Falls of the Clyde” by Joseph Mallord William Turner; Lady Lever Art Gallery. Source: ArtUK

St James’s Palace. English School. Source: ArtUK

Emma Hamilton as a Bacchante. Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun.  Lord Lever’s tastes in art were usually consistent with popular opinion, but by modern standards some have not always stood the test of time. Although Vigée Le Brun produced some very accomplished pieces, others were not quite as refined.  Source: ArtUK

 

Painted mahogany writing desk by John Thomas Serres, 1792

There are some items that don’t fit any particular category, such as 19th century copies of earlier Chinese cabinets (sometimes on hideously elaborate and inappropriate stands), a late 18th century cupboard decorated with thousands of tiny curls of coloured paper (filigree), late 18th century painted writing desks, and a staggeringly huge cabinet full of draws made with different types of wood; as a whole it is too big and ornate by modern standards, but the individual woods are very beautiful.  There is also a room dedicated to Lord Leverhulme and his achievements, essentially the activities that paid for the village and the gallery, together with some more examples of his collecting interests, such as his ethnographic and ancient Egyptian items.  Another room addresses the challenges of conservation.

Cabinet with multiple draws for collecting samples. 1830, but inspired by Thomas Chippendale (18th century)

On the missing list, it is most notable that there are very few Middle Eastern items, and that there are very few Medieval pieces, presumably reflecting Lord Lever’s taste.  It was of particular interest that some of the pieces had been reworked once if not more times either to repair them, reconstruct missing elements or reinvent the original concept to make it more appealing to contemporary tastes.  One of the Roman cineraria, for example, had lost its lid and had been provided with a new one in the 19th century, complete with twin Egyptian-style sphinxes.

Roman cinerarium with a 19th century lid.

Detail of Elizabethan/Jacobean wood inlay cabinet

Because preferences in art and decorative arts are so very personal, and some of the items are very much more 19th century than 21st century taste, not everything will appeal to everyone, but the skill represented by all items of all types is consistently excellent.  A shift of focus from a complete piece of furniture to the individual components that make it up not only help to reveal that skill that went into an object, but also draw attention to themes, symbols and ideas that were built into these otherwise functional items.

A fairly disastrous mismatch of styles. The Dutch cabinet, inspired by Japanese art, dates to 1690. It rests on a an over-elaborately decorative baroque stand, dating to c.1680, inspired by Louis XIV solid silver furniture from Versailles

 

Some of the rooms have received significant investment since I was last at the museum around a decade ago, with modern displays, excellent lighting and good information boards.  My impression is that there are fewer items on display in the Chinese and Wedgwood rooms, but that the focus on quality and representative types means that visitors are able to fully digest the collection without being overwhelmed by the sheer volume.

Perhaps more than anything else, the Lady Lever Art Gallery is an insight into the self-conscious 19th century perception of the world, including its values, hopes and ambitions.  As one of the information boards points out, although Lever was a brilliant and in many ways an admirable man, he was also part of the story of colonization, with interests in the Belgian Congo. This aspect of his activities is now a new field of research at the gallery, helping to place the story of Lord Lever and his commercial and philanthropic activities into a more global and sometimes troubling context.

Click to enlarge.  Artworks in the “Fresh Perspectives” exhibition. Clockwise from top left: Snowden Through a Lens by Jack Thompson; Gaudi in Paint by Freya Kennedy; Japanese Landscape by Millie Lawrensen Beckett; Seafoam Seaside by Isabelle Stockdale; Triptych by Indy Evans

The gallery often has special exhibitions, and these are worth watching out for on the gallery’s What’s On web page.  At the moment there is a really thought-provoking exhibition, Fresh Perspectives (on until 27th Apr 2025), a tri-annual exhibition of inspiring artworks by young people from Wirral secondary schools.  Julian and I chatted a lot as we were going around this about the differences between how art is clearly being taught in these schools and our own experiences of school art classes.  As a professional artist, Julian was particularly impressed with how students are being encouraged to explore a wide range of approaches and express themselves using non-verbal methods.  Here there is a lot of mixed-media being used in hugely creative and imaginative ways to produce some truly original artworks.  There is a lot of inventive portraiture, but some of the semi-abstract pieces are particularly interesting, featuring multi-cultural themes and the use of overlays to provide focused viewpoints.  It was heartening to see that even those who might not be able to draw were enabled to express themselves using other media to assemble evocative, expressive artworks.  It is an absolutely excellent initiative, and we both found it truly inspiring.  The exhibition also provides the gallery with a very modern component that it otherwise lacks (for obvious reasons!).

William Hesketh Lever. Source: Wikipedia

Check the gallery’s web page on the National Museums Liverpool website for opening times and other information.  Access to the main collection is free of charge, but some special exhibitions may be charged for.  You can preview some of the works on display, and read some articles about objects in the collection on the Collections page.  Note that the website is one of those maddening matryoshka (nested Russian doll) affairs, with multiple museums nested within a general museums website, and it is very easy to find yourself clicking on the wrong thing and finding yourself going off the Lady Lever gallery pages and ending up somewhere else within the general museums website.

There is a terrific coffee shop in the basement, which does a range of sticky buns and cakes, breakfasts and lunches, and serves a range of hot and cold drinks (I can recommend the excellent latte), and where Julian and I set the worlds of decorative and fine arts to rights. It was interesting how not only the objects in Lord Lever’s collection but Lord Lever himself dominated many aspects of the conversation. The shop sells souvenirs, books, greetings cards, postcards, etc, and is beautifully presented.

Overall, a great visit.

“Frightened Horse.” Blue jasper by Wedgwood, modelled by George Stubbs, 1780-85.

Splendid walnut travelling case with gilt metal mountings. 1850-1870

Commode, fascinatingly made up of 18th century parts in about 1880.

English chest c.1600-1625 (Jacobean). Oak inlaid with holly, rosewood, fruitwoods, and possibly sycamore and holly.

Detail of the above chest:


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My battered copy of the site map

A Chester Archaeological Society visit to the Grosvenor Museum Stores

Many thanks to Pauline Clarke, the Excursions Officer of the Chester Archaeological Society, for organizing our CAS visit to the Grosvenor Museum Stores, and to Liz Montgomery of the Grosvenor Museum for taking us on a splendid guided tour.  All the way round there were dozens of questions from the group, always the mark of a successful event.

It was a real eye-opener, not merely because of the box upon box of objects, but because of the amount of work that remains to be carried out.  Many of the boxes represent excavations that have been published, but also those for which post-excavation funding was not available.  Intriguingly, there are boxes of items from the excavations that took place when the old police headquarters was replaced with today’s HQ building, where St Mary’s Nunnery once stood.

The storage boxes are stacked on racks, with organic and metallic remains kept in airtight containers and, in one of the storage sections, whole objects and big stone-carved fragments kept on display on some of the racks. It was fun to spot some boxes from Cuppin Street, where I excavated in the 1980s with a great group under the supervision of Simon Ward.  Bigger objects, particularly Roman stoneware, are kept on palettes. There is a lot of Roman and post-Roman, including Medieval material, but there is also a collection of prehistoric items from the neighbouring area as well as the Cheshire ridge.

More recent items, from the earlier 20th century, are also lying on the shelves as well as in storage boxes, including wartime and inter-war period plus more recent objects.

All the contents of the storage facility have been carefully recorded, and many of the older boxes have been replaced with more appropriate specialized storage containers.  Everything is kept clean and all items are accessible.  These measures make the storage collection a very useful resource for researchers, who can take the selected storage boxes to a room equipped with tables and chairs (and an efficient radiator!) to explore the contents in comfort. It  looks as though there may be opportunities for volunteers to contribute to this work in the future, which will be an excellent opportunity for non-experts to help the professionals to put the storage collection to good use.

This storage facility is largely dedicated to the museum’s archaeological collection, with a smaller set of items from more recent history, and the whole lot is utterly fascinating.  This is not, however,  the only storage facility for the museum.  The old saltworks caverns have been converted into storage for some organizations, including the museum, and valuable items like jewellery, coins and other perishable metalwork are stored in a vault elsewhere.  The 1000+ paintings collected by the museum, particularly under the aegis of Peter Boughton, are also stored elsewhere.  As with most other museums, both this and the other Grosvenor stores demonstrate that what the museum has on display is just a fraction of what it holds, but also demonstrates just how much activity goes on behind the scenes, as well as the extent of the museum’s many responsibilities.

The photos below are a random selection of the many, many delights that the stores have to offer.  Thanks again to Liz Montgomery for an excellent guided tour, which provided real insights into the value of a storage collection to the work of this and other museums.

 

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Cheshire Lunatic Asylum: The development of lunatic asylums – Part 1.2

Cheshire Lunatic Asylum 2024

This is the second part of my post about the background to English lunatic asylums, prior to focusing on the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum in Chester.  To make the pages manageable, I have divided part 1, looking at the mental health background to the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum and other lunatic asylums into two.  Part 1.1 was posted here a few minutes agoPart 1.2 carries on below, following directly from part 1.1. A version of parts 1.1 and 1.2,without images, can be downloaded as a single PDF here  (27 pages of A4)   Sources and references for all posts can be found here.

Part 2 will focus on the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum at Upton in Chester and will be posted in the next month or so, when I’ve sorted out the images.

Timeline of reform after 1830

After the opening of a number of public asylums in the early 1800s, including the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum in Chester in 1829, several others began to be erected, including those in Dorset, Leicestershire, Shropshire and Montgomery and Devon, all by 1845, the year in which the County Asylums Act was passed.  Private asylums still outnumbered county and charity asylums, some small and catering for a handful of patients, whilst others like and Ticehurst in Sussex (opened 1792) the purpose-built Brislington House near Bristol (opened 1806) were fully comparable in size to county asylums.

The First Middlesex County Asylum, Hanwell. Source: London Historians’ Blog

The most important innovation in the early 19th century had been the “moral treatment” that had been introduced by Philippe Pinet in Paris and by William Tuke in York, was influential on other asylum owners and designers.  One of the most innovative of these was Methodist Dr William Ellis.  Having learned the practice of moral treatment at the Sculcoates Refuge in Hull, in 1817 he was employed as superintendent at West Riding Pauper Asylum at Wakefield, with his wife Mildred as matron, where he practised the same approaches. His successes led to his appointment at the new Hanwell Asylum in Middlesex in 1832, with his wife again employed as matron.  In each case patients were exposed to conditions that emulated family life and the manners of polite society, with treatment consisting of activities, entertainments and employment both indoors and out, using physical restraints only where strictly necessary. Social reformer Harriet Martineau, was impressed with how, when she visited, she saw a patient going to a garden to work with his tools in his hand, how a cheerful patient rolling in the grass with two other patients had been chained to her bed for seven years before arriving at Hanwell, and in shed in one of the gardens patients were cutting potatyes for seed “singing and amusing each other.”  Ellis resigned in 1838 in a disagreement with the overseers of the asylum over their decision to extend the asylum for a much greater patient intake, convinced that his methods could not be successful in a much larger institution, as well as their plans to change how the asylum was managed.

In 1832 the Royal Commission carried out a survey of how the Poor Law was generally implemented throughout all counties, and who benefitted.  The findings were published in 1834, and concluded that existing workhouses and almshouses were too sympathetic and generous, as well as too costly, to be sustainable. The report contained a long list of recommendations that set out to deter paupers from claiming relief by redefining the workhouse as a tool for reducing the costs of caring for the poor.  The survey formed the basis of the new 1834 poor law.

In terms of social reform the new Poor Law, which was introduced to replace the Elizabethan Poor Law of 1601, represented a backwards step.  The Act, adding to the 1723 General Workhouse Act and the 1774 Madhouse Act, lead to even more lunatics being absorbed into workhouses, where all inmates were treated far more punitively then before. According to the 1834 Poor Law Amendment Act (“the New Poor Law”) workhouses of a new type would be built to deter vagrancy and the dependency of able-bodied men, women and children on handouts, ensuring that only those who were suffering from desperate necessity would seek a workhouse place. The Act was introduced to reduce the cost of the poor by putting them to work in fixed indoor locations, removing beggars, vagrants and itinerant paupers from the streets, its main mechanism of which was the workhouse. However, although orphanages and infirmaries were also built, the workhouses were punitive places, built to discourage the idle from attending them.  They provided deliberately uncomfortable living conditions, splitting of husbands from wives and parents from their children.  To enable parishes to finance the new workhouses, the new poor law allowed for the creating of parish unions.  Over 350 new workhouses were built within five years of the Act to cope with those who were unable or unwilling to find work.

The 1834 Act also laid down that dangerous lunatics, insane people and imbeciles were not to be kept in workhouses and should be moved to new asylums that should be built without delay, as per the Act of 1828, to receive them.  In practice, however, partly because it cost less to house lunatics in workhouses than asylum, and partly because asylums were often overcrowded, an alarming number entered workhouses.  In some workhouses special wards within workhouses for the insane were added, and these were often used as repositories for the mentally ill, as well as imbeciles and idiots, the debilitated elderly (particularly those suffering from dementia) and the physically disabled.

The Chester Union Workhouse in 1861, recorded on workhouses.org, included 29 long-term inmates (continuous living for five years or over) of whom nine (31.03%) were deemed to be of “weak mind” and two (6.9%) were “subject to fits” (the latter relevant because epilepsy was considered to be a form of insanity until the late 19th century).  Interestingly, the incorporated union of Chester’s nine parishes was exempt from the 1834 act, and Chester did not accept a Chester new Poor Law Union until 1869.  There is clearly a lot more work to be done in Chester between the lunatic asylum and its workhouses.

The 1820 Lincoln Asylum. By Elliott Simpson, CC BY-SA 2.0. Source: Wikipedia

New reformist practitioners continued to make their mark in the treatment of lunatics, mainly in private asylums for the wealthy, but also in the county asylums. In 1820 the subscription-funded Lincoln Lunatic Asylum was opened, and in 1837, under Edward Parker Charlesworth and Robert Gardiner Hill, became notable for being the first English asylum to formally abolish the use of mechanical devices for restraint, with the results recorded in  the asylum’s annual reports. This approach was influenced by the death at the asylum in 1829 of patient William Scrivinger, who was strapped to his bed overnight in a straitjacket and was found dead from strangulation in the morning.   In 1838 Robert Gardiner Hill, who became house surgeon at the asylum, delivered a lecture to The Mechanics’s Institute, Lincoln, advocating the care of the mentally ill without recourse to restraints, which was subsequently published and circulated and became influential on other asylum superintendents who were interested in treating symptoms rather than merely detaining patients.

Tabulated records of restraint from the Lincoln Lunatic Asylum in 1830 (click to enlarge).  Wellcome Collection.

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In 1839 John Conolly moved to Hanwell Asylum in Middlesex to take over from William Ellis as its third superintendent.  As superintendent he took Ellis’s policy of only using restraints when unavoidable even further, following Robert Gardiner Hell, and in his first report from the asylum claimed that the banning of restraints, replaced by “kindness and firmness” had produced a much better environment for patients. He believed that supervision by specially trained attendants and nurses, consistent regimes and pleasant surroundings were essential.  His treatment regime was reported by The Times on several occasions, an the asylum was visited by influential figures in society. Although many other alienists were sceptical about non-restraint, the positive publicity soon influenced other asylums who began to follow the lead originally set by Robert Gardiner Hill, but publicized by Conolly. Following his resignation from Hanwell in 1844, after a disagreement with the Metropolitan Commissioners in Lunacy, Conolly published his latest opinions on the subject of managing lunacy.  These included his 1847 The Construction and Government of Lunatic Asylums and Hospitals for the Insane and his 1856 The Treatment of the Insane without Mechanical Restraints.  His 1849 A remonstrance with the Lord Chief Baron touching the case Nottidge versus Ripley clearly stated his belief that eccentricity, excessive passion, signs of moral failure, gambling what should not be tolerated, and any person’s behaviour that was “inconsistent with the comfort of society and their own welfare” were sufficient to merit certification and committal to an asylum.  This position was one of intolerance to any behaviour that might contravene strict ideas of social conventions.

Male and female patient employment records at the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum for the year 1855 (click to enlarge) (Wellcome Collection).

The new forms of treatment that attempted to return people to society put great emphasis on the value of manual work, much like the influential 6th century Benedictine monastic ideal, so some asylums built and managed home farms in which patients worked, and indoors encouraged involvement in art, crafts, sewing of clothes and other items of use within the asylum, and help with the maintenance of the asylum buildings.  Airing courts provided leisure access to fresh air and vegetation, and sporting activities were arranged.  Indoor leisure activities included games, indoor sports, reading material, the ability to engage in art, music, dance and theatre, and there was in-house provision for access to religious guidance

The 1842 Poor Law Commissioners Act introduced by social reformer Lord Ashley (later Lord Shaftesbury), extended the authority of London’s Metropolitan Commissions in Lunacy to the entire country and expanded its staff. Its remit was extended for a trial three-year period to all types of care institution in all parts of England and Wales where lunatics might be held, and this in turn led to the 1844 report of the Metropolitan Commission to the Lord Chancellor.  This report described poor conditions and treatment, and expressed concerns about illicit certification and the continued incarceration of those who had recovered.

Portrait of Harriet Martineu. Source: Wikipedia

An indication of how much work still needed to be done to care for the insane was an article published in 1834 by Harriet Martineau, one of Britain’s first sociologists, who asked whether lunatic asylums really needed to be as dreadful as they so often were, contrasting it with the pioneering attitude of Dr William Ellis and his wife Mildred at the new Hanwell Lunatic Asylum, which opened in 1831:

It is commonly agreed that the most deplorable spectacle which society presents, is that of a receptacle for the insane. In pauper asylums we see chains and strait-waistcoats, – three or four half-naked creatures thrust into a chamber filled with straw, to exasperate each other with their clamour and attempts at violence; or else gibbering in idleness, or moping in solitude. In private asylums, where the rich patients are supposed to be well taken care of in proportion to the quantity of money expended on their account, there is as much idleness, moping, raving, exasperating infliction, and destitution of sympathy, though the horror is attempted to be veiled by a more decent arrangement of externals. Must these things be? (my italics).

A two year investigation by the Metropolitan Lunacy Commissioners was followed by the 1844 Report to the Lord Chancellor which, like its predecessors, highlighted the abysmal conditions in many of the establishments that  that housed lunatics:  “Twenty-one counties in England and Wales had neither public nor private asylum. Profiteering was rife in the private sector; such public asylums as existed were often defective in terms of site, design or accommodation” [Mellett 1981]. The 1844 report seems to have had rather more significant impact than some of its predecessors, timed as it was with Lord Ashley’s continued and vigorous campaigning to provide for pauper lunatics.  The Socialist Health Association records that in 1844 there were around 20,600 lunatics in some form of institution or private care in England and Wales, of whom only 3800 were private patients.  Over 16,800 were classified as paupers.

Edward Wakefield’s 1815 statement about the value of recommending a change to the law to make new asylums compulsory. Source: Wellcome Collection

In 1845, following the 1844 report, Lord Ashley was able to push through the important Lunacy Act and the County Asylum Act.  Importantly, every county was given compulsory responsibility for the provision of a county asylum funded by rates, instead of making it optional as in the 1808 Wynn’s Law.  This was a measure that Edward Wakefield, reporting to the 1815 Select Committee had suggested be implemented, and it had taken 30 years for the recommendation to be acted upon.  The Act required the transfer of mentally ill people (defined as lunatics and idiots) from workhouses, where over 6000 were recorded in 1847, to these new or existing asylums.  It became a legal requirement that both a new Board of Commissioners for Lunacy and regional Justices throughout England and Wales should regularly visit places where lunatics were held, in prisons and workhouses as well as hospitals and both the old and new asylums, for both private and public institutions.  Locally appointed Committees of Visitors would oversee the ongoing operation of asylums, and an annual report would be submitted to the Lunacy Commissioners.  It was now also a legal requirement that asylums record admissions with basic demographic information about the patient, the reason for admission, details of the disorder, treatments and ultimate outcomes (i.e. discharge or death, including suicide).  These were to be inspected at least annually by the Commissioners and regional Justices.  In practice, the Act was not supported with funding or resources, and many of its measures proved difficult to implement and enforce, although it was responsible for the growing number of asylums throughout England and Wales.  Again, improvements to certification processes were made.  In 1847, reporting on their progress, the Commissioners noted how their workload had expanded, emphasising their role as a central resource for asylums:

Excerpt from the Table of Contents for the Further report of the Commissioners in Lunacy 1847

We have found it necessary to carry on an extensive correspondence with numerous parties, some demanding· the interposition of our authority, in reference to cases of supposed abuse; many requiring information, and many others neglecting or misinterpreting· the salutary provisions of the Acts of Parliament; and in the course of this correspondence, numerous questions (some of much nicety and difficulty) have been submitted to us;  we have also found it necessary to enter into long and difficult investigations.

The commissioners were undoubtedly patting themselves on the back in this piece of text, demonstrating the value of their new role, but the rest of the report suggests that since the passing of the 1845 Act they had been very busy assessing the network of public and private asylums for which they were now responsible, gathering extensive amounts of data to inform their decisions.

In 1853 John Bucknill (1817–1897) became the first editor of the Asylum Journal, which became the Journal of Mental Science.  Bucknill held the position until 1862.  The Journal eventually became the British Journal of Psychiatry and is still publishing today. This provided a forum for interested parties, mainly those connected with asylums, to put forward their ideas and instigate discussions.  Ideas about madness and lunatic asylums also filtered into the British Medical Journal.

Asylum Journal 1855. Source: Internet Archive

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Another set of laws were introduced with the intention of improving matters throughout the second half of the 19th century.  The 1853 Lunacy Amendment Act outlawed hearsay evidence from the process of certification, meaning that doctors were no longer able to depend on the accounts of those who were asking for patients to be admitted to asylums.  The certification process required that doctors only included behaviour that they had themselves observed at first hand, another measure towards prevention of wrongful confinement.  The 1862 Lunacy Act enabled patients who had received care for mental illness in the past to enter asylums on a voluntary basis to receive treatment.  Special permission had to be sought from two lunacy commissioners, but this recognized that the treatment of mental health should not be exclusively enforced and custodial.  It also allowed for greater fluidity of transfer of patients between asylums and workhouses.  The Annual Report of the Lunacy Commission for the same year noted that physical restraints were no longer in common use and that isolation was preferred as a viable alternative.  In 1867 the Metropolitan Poor Bill was designed to recognize harmless “imbeciles”, those with learning difficulties in London workhouses and asylums, and to provide them with specialized establishments. In 1874 the rising costs of asylum management were recognized by the government who introduced a grant allocating 4 shillings per week per person sent to the asylum. This presumably also assisted with moving appropriate inmates from workhouses to asylums.

Unfortunately none of the above measures were successful in introducing genuine state-sponsored social responsibility and reform.  As late in the 19th century as 1873 the British Medical Association expressed its views on the existing state of asylums:

There are no public institutions which lie so open to attack as lunatic asylums.  They are necessary evils; they interfere with the liberty of the subject; they are costly in erection and maintenance; and they are, as a rule, managed with doors more closely shut than those of other hospitals.  There also hangs about them in the mind of the public an air of mystery, and the memory of bygone evils is by no means erase.  When all these factors of unpopularity are taken into account, it is not difficult to see why the complaints of those who have been subjected to their discipline are listened to with avidity. [BMA August 2nd 1873, p.120]

Sadly, as the century advanced and passed into the 20th century, the number of admissions into asylums increased and the earlier idealistic and more personalized approaches became impossible to implement.  The 29th Annual Local Government Report of 1900 stated that in 1860 50% of insane paupers were in county and borough asylums, and 25% of them in workhouses.  By 1900 there were 75% in asylums and just under 20% in workhouses.
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Public anxiety about lunatic asylums in the mid-late 19th century

Louisa Lowe, incarcerated even though later judged to be completely sane. Source: a digitized copy of Blighted Life, in the Wellcome Collection

Whilst the role of lunatic asylums was widely discussed in Victorian medical journals and works produced by alienists, each promoting certain methodological and ideological approaches, there were also publications that spoke to the general public, representing concerns with the alienist profession and describing clear infringements of what we would now think of as the human rights of those who had been illicitly incarcerated.  Wrongful incarcerations fell into two main categories.  First, there were those individuals who had been incarcerated forcibly when sane, sometimes as the result of collusion between family members and medical professionals.  Secondly there were those who had been admitted to an asylum under a legitimate certificate, but continued to be detained long after they had recovered their senses.  Part of the problem lay in what did or did not qualify as sanity but, as discussed above, there were also cases of malicious incarceration and corrupt collusion for financial advantage.

There were two primary channels of information about such cases  to the general public.  Both national and local media took up the stories of those who had been illicitly confined in lunatic asylums, whilst some of the victims published their own accounts. Examples of the latter are John Perceval’s  A narrative of the treatment experienced by a gentleman during a state of mental derangement (1840), Rosina Bulwer-Lytton’s A Blighted Life (1880) and Louisa Lowe’s The Bastilles of England, Or The Lunacy Laws at Work (1883).  Some publications were anonymous, former mad-house inmates fearing derision or stigma.  One author, “A Sane Patient,” wrote My Experiences in a Lunatic Asylum (1879), and another was written by “A Clerical Ex-Lunatic:” The private asylum: how I got in an out: an autobiography (1889). As well as describing the circumstances under which they had been admitted and in which they lived, some also urged government change to existing laws.

News article excerpt about Lawrence Ruck in The Leader, no.440, August 28th 1858, p.862. Source: Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition

Although there were exceptions, the means by which the media became aware of such cases was largely via formal inquisitions. In 1858-1859 there were four cases that caused a media sensation and a public panic about illegitimate certification: Rosina Bulwer-Lytton, Mary Jane Hepworth, Reverend William Leach and Lawrence Ruck.  Inquisitions were legal mechanisms by which those held in private asylums could apply for permission to take their cases in front of a judge and jury to attempt to prove their sanity.  Witnesses could be called to give testimony for or against a patient’s sanity, both personal and professional. These were very expensive and the cost fell on the applicant, so was available only to the very wealthy.  Because these people often belonged to elite families or were associated with public figures, they could be of great public interest.   Inquisitions were held in public, in any venue large enough to accommodate them, in coffee houses, bars and taverns, and any member of the general public or media was free to attend.  Juries were men, often magistrates or others who were sufficiently educated to assess both medical and legal arguments.  In the cases of Bulwer-Lytton, Hepworth, Leach and Ruck, all four had been confined in asylums, but during inquisition had been judged sane.  Rosina Bulwer-Lytton had a particular gift for publicity and succeeded in winning many newspaper publications to her side to publicize her grievances.  The highly publicized scenario where a family member, colluding with an asylum owner and sent attendants to bundle a sane victim into a carriage to be locked up, their basic human rights denied them, caused real public anxiety.

Report of the Alleged Lunatics’ Friend Society 1851. Source for report: Wellcome Collection

The newspaper publications and first-hand accounts about individual cases were supplemented by the work of pressure groups. Three groups were formed to promote the causes of patients in asylums, more or less consecutively, all started by those who had direct experience of illegal detention in lunatic asylums: The Alleged Lunatics’ Friends Society (an informal grouping until 1845 when they became organized), the Lunacy Law Reform Association, and its splinter group The Lunacy Law Amendment Society.  At the same time, Georgina Weldon attracted many followers in her campaign against illegal incarceration and detainment in asylums, having gone into hiding when her estranged husband attempted to have her committed. Whist in hiding she was declared sane by two independent physicians. All these activists wrote letters to influential people, took out newspaper adverts, distributed pamphlets and spoke extensively in public in attempts to influence government action to reform lunacy laws.  Although they were rarely successful at pushing through legal reform, they were very good at generating publicity for their causes, drawing attention to the financial motivations of both those who might benefit from certifying a relative and the asylums admitting them, and the callous tyranny of some of the asylum owners and staff.  They also acted to take up individual cases where sane people remained locked up in asylums.

Inevitably, in spite of attempts to force through legal and social reform, changes in the law always lagged behind the need for reform.  For every energetic reformer there were many more places that continued to follow easier, less labour-intensive means of confinement, and although individual reformers and medical representatives attempted to improve asylum care, there were continuing problems of unnecessary and illegal incarceration and detainment, sometimes as a result of collusion between relatives and asylum owners, causing ongoing anxiety in contemporary society.
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The criminally insane

Lithograph by JR Jobbins in 1840 showing the assassination attempt by Edward Oxford on Queen Victoria. Source: Meisterdrucke

In 1800 when James Hadfield attempted to assassinate George III in the belief that the death of the king would initiate the Second Coming of the Messiah, he was charged with treason. However he was judged to be non compos mentis (not in his right mind) due to severe head injuries incurred during his service as a soldier.  This verdict of insanity was followed by the the Criminal Lunatics Act, which required that criminal lunatics should be detained in county jails, and lead to the addition of a new criminal wing be Bethlem to house the criminally insane.  A number of high profile cases followed, and in 1840 Edward Oxford fired a pistol at Queen Victoria and Prince Albert as they were travelling in an open carriage on Constitution Hill in London, and although he was tried for high treason, was found not guilty by reason of insanity.  He was sent to the criminal wing at Bethlem.

Daniel M’Naghten photographed by Henry Hering in around 1856. Source: Bethlehem Hospital Museum Archives via Wikipedia

A decisive case was that of Daniel M’Naghten who, in 1843, attempted to kill Prime Minister Robert Peel, but mistook Peel’s secretary for the Prime Minister, shooting and killing him.  M’Naghten suffered from paranoid delusions, thinking that the Tories were persecuting him and were planning to murder him. He was acquitted on the basis of insanity and confined to Bethlem asylum.  This lead to the M’Naghten Rule (or M’Naghten Test) which provided criteria for assessing whether or not someone was insane at the time that a serious crime was committed, to assess whether or not someone was criminal liable.  Only when the test has been completed in all its parts can a person be deemed to be criminally insane.

One of the best known 19th century inmates of both Bethlem was was the remarkable professional artist Richard Dadd R.A., who was incarcerated first in the ward for the criminally insane in Bethlem in 1843.  Dadd, after exhibiting signs of violent and delusional behaviour when travelling in the Middle East went to stay with his parents to recover but, believing that he was acting under the orders of the Egyptian God Osiris, murdered his father whom he was convinced was possessed by the Devil.

Richard Dadd, painting whilst incarcerated in an asylum in 1856. Source: Wikipedia

These cases paved the way for the establishment of the Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum, which opened in 1863 in Berkshire, and which remains in use today.  Oxford, M’Naghten and Dadd were all transferred to Broadmoor in 1864.  M’Naghten died in 1865 but Dadd continued to paint throughout there until his death in 1886 at the age of 68.  Edward Oxford, who showed no ongoing signs of insanity, was offered the opportunity to be relocated to Australia in 1867, and duly took up the offer, settling, marrying and living out his life in Melbourne, later publishing a book about the city.

Much of the intention of earlier laws in this respect was re-formalized in the Trial of Lunatics Act of 1883, in which any offence committed whilst a person was deemed to be insane, and therefore according to the law not responsible for his actions at the time when the act was committed, a special verdict of not guilty by reason of insanity should be returned. This law was updated several times, most recently in 1991.

Day room for male patients at the Asylum for Criminal Lunatics, Broadmoor, Sandhurst, Berkshire. Source: Wellcome Collection

A broken system

Excerpt for a page from the 21st Report of the Commissioners in Lunacy for 1866, published in 1867. Source: Wellcome Collection

In the later half of the 19th century, it was becoming clear that the optimism of both medical and legal professions the 1840s was dwindling fast, and that the asylum system was failing to keep up with demand.  The 21st Report of the Commissioners in Lunacy in 1867 indicated that 90% of patients in public asylums were considered to be incurable.  Writing only three years later in 1870, Dr Andrew Wynter, former editor of the British Medical Journal, commented that “Our whole scheme for the cure of lunatics has utterly broken down.”  Although it was convenient to hold large numbers in facilities where they could be dealt with in a consistent and organized way, the numbers of those who entered far exceeded the numbers of those who left.  Overcrowding was a serious problem for most public.  The emphasis inevitably shifted from treatment and cure to containment, order and bureaucracy.  This succeeded in dividing lunatics from society, but did not address the root cause of the the problem – the analysis and cure of mental illness.  Those who might have been treated and restored to their families were lost in the sheer volume of inmates who required maintenance and management.  Wynter referred to this as “brick and mortar humanity.”

Plan for Caterham and Leavesden 1868, both serving the London area. Both were opened by the Metropolitan Asylums Board in 1870, and within five years demand far exceeded capacity, requiring new building works to accommodate the influx of new patients . Source: Wellcome Collection

There were only two practical solutions to overcrowding in asylums.  The first was to return non-violent patients to their families or to send them to workhouses.  The second was to expand existing asylum buildings and facilities and to build new asylums.  Although workhouses continued to take in lunatics and idiots, expansion and new building were the most frequently adopted solutions.  It is to this period that the first of the vast dedicated developments were built, with their own water and gas works, their own fire brigades, cemeteries and other urban-type facilities.  These were located in rural locations, where asylums could be conveniently separated from the rest of society, and where land was relatively cheap. The earliest examples of these vast enterprises were built to serve London and its environs, and include Colney Hatch in Middlesex (opened in 1849 for 1000 patients), Leavesden and Caterham (both opened in 1870 for 2000 patients each), Caterham, and Claybury County Asylum (opened in 1894, also for 2000 patients).

Claybury County Asylum, now converted into apartments. Source: Wikipedia

It was not until nine years later that the 1886 Idiots Act created specialist asylums for individuals with learning difficulties beyond the London area.  Important distinctions were made between lunatics on the one hand and harmless idiots and imbeciles (those with learning difficulties) on the other.  The intention was to take the opportunity to care for them and provide basic education and training so that idiots were treated neither as lunatics that needed to be confined nor as indigent vagrants.  Following this, the 1890 Lunacy Act the certification of alleged lunatics was moved to the jurisdiction magistrates as well as doctors.  It also made the provision of free mental healthcare available, but as the majority of the population could only access free psychiatric care if they were certified insane and agreed to be admitted to an asylum, the stigma of certification and the requirement for confinement were significant deterrents to people volunteering to receive the help they needed.  More than any previous law, the 1890 Act helped to prevent medical collusion to incarcerate patients wrongfully.  Whereas only medical certification had been required before, a civic official such as a magistrate or Justice of the Peace was now required to certify madness.  The Act also took measures to prevent the licensing of new asylums, aiming to inhibit the further licensing of private asylums, which it was hoped would lead to the eventual demise of the private asylum.

An inspection of the formerly progressive Hanwell in 1893 described depressing conditions, concluding that it would be surprising if any of the patients were to recover given the type of care they were receiving in fairly dismal surroundings.  Even more regrettably, the untested idea that mental illness could be passed from one generation to the next fed into the horrible theory of eugenics.   New surveys continued to be carried out, reports continued to be submitted and new laws continued to be introduced, modified and implemented, but it is a sad fact that neither medicine nor the government, via changes to the law, managed to provide convincing support for a growing section of society that was still not well-understood.
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After the Victorian period

Graphic to accompany the one-man play Shell Shock, performed at the National Army Museum to mark Mental Health Awareness Week in 2019. Source: National Army Museum

I have not ventured into post-Victorian approaches to mental health in this post, but it was very far from a story of continual improvement of care and cure.  There was still a very long way to go to even begin an understanding mental illness, and to standardize, in a scientific way, the treatment mental illness in psychiatric units. Sigmund Freud’s end-of-century theories of psychology were squabbled over for decades.  The First World War’s executions for “shell shock” as a judgement of cowardice remain deeply shaming.  In the inter-war years psychiatrists began to take a more experimental and interventionist approach to treating mental illness. Several new so-called “heroic” physical therapies were introduced, based on the belief that mental illness had a physical basis in the nervous system or the brain. These included insulin coma, chemical shock, electro-convulsive shock therapies and, most radically interventionist, lobotomization.  Egas Maniz’s experiments with prefrontal lobotomy remain profoundly disturbing.

The abandoned Denbigh Lunatic Asylum. Photograph by Steve R. Bishop. Source: Everywhere from Where You are Not

It will come as no surprise to those who follow the news that there are still serious problems, not merely in official provision of mental health care, but in care homes for the elderly, including those recuperating and convalescing, and those who had been persuaded to hand over power of attorney.  There were dreadful examples of people being released from long-term incarceration in the 1950s and 60s who had been admitted for minor criminality and socially disruptive behaviour, and although they had become institutionalized were found to be completely sane.  The use of vast repositories for the mentally unwell was abandoned without, however, a clear strategy for handling those who still needed help.  This was followed by a policy of caring for the mentally unwell within the community, pushed through during the 1980s, which often failed to provide families and local care centres with sufficient resources to make this fully viable, placing great strain on families and support mechanisms.  The tyranny of some institutions was revealed in a number of scandals and was a theme explored in relatively modern times in the 1975  film One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  Documentaries in care homes in recent times demonstrate how this problem still persists in some places.

Ancona House. Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services unit at the Countess of Chester Hospital, Chester

Today the madhouse or lunatic asylum has become a psychiatric hospital or a psychiatric unit in a general hospital for those with manageable symptoms, or a specialist secure facility for the violent and criminally insane.  In the Victorian period medical understanding and psychiatric ideas were only beginning to be proposed and tested, and this continued well into the Edwardian period and beyond, with medicine and the law both playing  important parts in how mental illness and suicide were understood, diagnosed and treated.  The research remains ongoing.  There is still no viable solution, or set of solutions, to the problem of coping with mental illnesses. The subject of how to care for those suffering from mental illness is far from resolved.
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Final Comments on parts 1.1 and part 1.2

William Tuke’s “The Retreat” in around 1796. Source: Wikipedia

In spite of being divided into two parts to make it easier to digest, this quick and dirty summary of the state of mental healthcare in the 18th and 19th centuries inevitably smooths out some of the kinks in that often convoluted story, over-simplifying some of the many subtleties.  This account represents a very short summary of a very complex topic.

From the late 18th century mental illness represented a growing issue for a society that was developing a broad social conscience. In spite of many reforms to poor laws and a number of new Acts of Parliament to govern asylums, governments were slow to respond to either public pressure or their own specially commissioned reports, and stories of unlawful detainment in some places and frightful conditions in others failed to produce change that was both meaningful and timely.  The role of workhouses in the handling of the mentally ill continued to be important, with patients shared between workhouses, workhouse infirmaries and asylums, in spite of legislation designed to make the responsibilities of each much more transparent, which is an area that needs to be much better understood.  It was only towards the end of the 19th century that those with learning difficulties, termed imbeciles and idiots, were seriously treated in the law as a separate problem requiring different types of care.  The topic of children in lunatic asylums is not much discussed, but records show that at least some were admitted, as they were to workhouses.

John Conolly, looking rather self-satisfied. Source: Wikipedia

Sometimes those who were supposed to represent the pinnacle of care and reform are described with a rose-tinted filter.  For example, Edward Long Fox and his sons, running one of the most expensive private asylums in the country, were accused in the writings of patient John Perceval, son of the murdered prime minister Spencer Perceval, of incarcerating their more troublesome patients in truly dreadful conditions where they were subjected to beatings, threats, manacles, strait-vests, freezing water baths and other punishments and indignities.  The alienist John Conolly, a national figurehead of ethical and human approaches, was found guilty in court of taking money for signing legally binding certificates that retained patients in private asylums to which he was employed as a paid consultant.  One of these patients was found, by jury to be sane and the investigation highlighted the risk of consultants being paid by asylums for certifying patients.  He also often took credit in public for introducing non-restraint in England, in fact an innovation of Robert Gardiner Hill at Lincoln, and at Hanwell asylum had a very low cure rate.  Another example is Lord Ashley, later Lord Shaftesbury, generally and fairly acknowledged as an important voice for mental healthcare reform but sometimes remarkably intransigent. He often blocked or delayed changes that would have made important differences that would have lead to improved quality of life and greater transparency and justice in the asylum system.  This was a particular problem given that Ashley had been elected the lifetime head of the Commission for Lunacy, a position that he did indeed hold until his death in 1885.

By the end of the century the dream of personalized care of the mentally ill by engaging them in social activities within attractive contexts was largely abandoned.  The “moral treatment” approach had depended not only on sufficient numbers of attendants to manage patients with kindness and empathy, but those who had a genuine interest in caring and treating.  The 1870 Annual Report of the Lunacy Commission recorded that 122 attendants had been dismissed in 1869 for manhandling patients roughly or violently, and it is not at all surprising that as new patients were admitted in increasing numbers, the sheer volume proved difficult to manage:

The number of people certified as ‘insane’ soared.  The asylum created demand for its own services.  Less and less people ever left, and more and more arrived.  In 1806 the average asylum housed 115 patients.  By 1900 the average was over 1,000.  Earlier optimism that people could be cured disappeared.  The asylum became simply a place of confinement. [Disability in Time and Place, Historic England, Simon Jarrett]

Leavesden Hospital in Abbots Langley, Herts., opened 1870. Source: Leavesden Hospital

Governments as well a local organizations began to invest in creating larger institutional solutions for paupers whose symptoms indicated the sort of social deviance and/or danger to self that could not be countenanced without intervention.  However. the recognition of mental illness and the acceptance that it should be handled by the state caused its own problems as more people were incarcerated and management of mental illness became, like contemporary prisons, more of an issue of how to maintain order than how to provide cures.  Unlike most prison sentences, there was no release date for mental patients, who could be held indefinitely and sometimes were.  An indication of how urban areas in Britain were overwhelmed by demand was the new Metropolitan District Asylum built between 1868 and 1870 as Leavesden Hospital in Hertfordshire, which was designed to house 1500 patients, after which it continued to expand to cope with the ever growing need to provide care for the mentally ill.  Like other asylums of this period, it is more like a small town than a hospital.  Sadly, many asylums once again became associated with confinement and bureaucracy rather than attempts at cure and rehabilitation.

The perception of mentally ill people changed over the course of the Victorian and Edwardian periods as psychiatry developed as a specialist branch of medicine, swinging between biological, congenital and neurological explanations on the one hand and emotional-psychological explanations on the other. The degree of subjectivity lead inevitably to disagreement and contradictory opinions, with very little indication of how to choose between the variety of different ideas held in different asylums.  The legacy of 19th century mental health medicine, law and care seems to be one of a continued struggle to fully comprehend the complexities of mental illness or to devise suitable ways of treating them sustainably.  As Mike Jay says in his book This Way Madness Lies, “While the asylum as an institution is now largely consigned to the past, many of the questions it struggled so hard to address still persist.”===

Click here for the references for this post

 

Full 1-hour documentary about the situation within mental asylums at the time of the closure of many of them

Out of Sight, Out of Mind – The Leavesden Asylum Story
Leavesden Hospital History Association

 

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

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

 

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

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

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Introduction

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

The rear of the 1829 Building today

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

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

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

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

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

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

Many thanks to historian Mike Royden for sharing his knowledge about the Tudor and Victorian Poor Laws and workhouses.  You can find out more about Mike’s research on his History Pages website.
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18th and 19th century terminology and its limitations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For more on these and other terms see Historic England’s Glossary of Disability History.
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Practical problems associated with early mental illness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All these different types of medium demonstrate that madness was a powerful artistic and dramatic device, eliciting feelings of both fascination and dread.
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Approaches to lunacy before 1830

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were no medicines available to treat the causes of mental illness.  The only medications available were for the treatment of symptoms, not causes.  Tranquilizers, a certain amount of pain relief and the treatments for fever were the only available forms of relief for patients.  For very violent patients the only measures were sedatives, restraints and isolation.
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The growth of the lunatic asylum 1751-1834

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

York Lunatic Asylum. Source: Wikipedia

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The new Bethlem of 1815. Source: BBC Culture

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Wakefield himself was appointed as the new superintendent of the new Bethlem in Southwark and he introduced similar values as those employed by the Tukes at The Retreat.  The new Bethlem opened in 1815 with a wing for the criminally insane, the same year as the Select Committee report on the condition of lunatic asylums.
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Excerpt from Committee Appointed to Consider of Provision Being Made for the Better Regulation of Madhouses in England, Parliament, House of Commons 1815-16. First report from the Committee on the State of Madhouses. London.  Source: Wellcome Collection

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please click here to go to Part 1.2, the second part of this background to the Cheshire Lunatic Asylum.  The Cheshire Lunatic Asylum itself is discussed in Part 2.
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The Tukes’ Retreat, a private asylum delivering “moral treatment” in York, which opened in 1792. Source: Wikipedia

 

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

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Day Trip: The elegant Augustinian Haughmond Abbey near Shrewsbury

Interpretation board at Haughmond Abbey.  The “You Are Here” text at far right (the south end of the site) marks the location of the interpretation board. The church remains only as a few courses of stone at far left (north) but leaves a clear footprint of its layout.

One of the fascinating ruined monastic buildings that I visited during my October 2024 trip to Shropshire, was the sprawling Haughmond Abbey, just a few miles northeast of Shrewsbury, and very easy to reach.  The Romanesque survivors at the site are particularly delightful, giving the site a charm and subtle glamour that is largely missing from most of the somewhat repetitive gothic establishments that followed.

Haughmond was the first Augustinian monastery that I have visited, and it is unusual in being so large for an Augustinian establishment.  The followers of St Augustine of Hippo, also known as Austins or Black Canons, followed a rather different set of guidelines from those of the Benedictines, Cluniacs and Cistercians and others who followed the Rule of St Benedict, of which more below.  Most Augustinian monasteries were priories, but Haughmond was raised from a priory to an abbey in the mid-12th century, one of only 9 in England to do so, and its ground plan is extensive.  Its design borrows extensively from its St Benedict-inspired predecessors, but there are notable differences too.

The visible remains of Haughmond relate to the buildings founded as an Augustinian abbey in the 1130s, dedicated to St John the Evangelist.  Some documentary evidence is supplied by what remains of its cartularies (collection of charters) assembled between 1478-1487 as well as records of leasing agreements from the 14th to the 16th century, both of which provide information about its economic activities from the 12 century onward.  Further information was provided by excavations. The first of these were carried out by William St John Hope and Harold Brakspear in 1907, and were interestingly financed mainly by public subscription, reflecting local interest in the site.  Part of this was clearance of debris but they found the remains of the 11th century church and  revealed many of the remains of the early church and priory.  When the Ministry of Works in 1933  took over the site they too undertook clearance works and further excavations, at the south end of the site, took place in 1958 . In the 1970s, Jeffrey West and Nicholas Palmer concentrated on the various phases of the abbey church and and surveyed the abbey’s surviving walls.  In 2002 a survey by English Heritage not only found the location of the original gatehouse but located the abbey precinct’s boundaries and many of the features that lay within those boundaries, including important aspects of the drainage system.
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The Augustinians

The earliest known representation of St Augustine from the 6th Century in the Lateran, Rome. Source: Wikipedia

The Augustinian order, like the traditional medieval monasticism that subscribed to the ideas of 6th century St Benedict, looked to an earlier time and an earlier authority on which to base their own approach to monastic living.  St Augustine (354–430) was born in Roman North Africa in 345. Before a visit to Milan he had been closely associated with the Manichean religion before meeting Christian intellectuals in Milan.  On his return to North Africa his own inclination as a Christian was to embrace the monastic life, but he was persuaded to take orders as an ordained priest, partly because Christianity was a minority religion in the area at that time, and although he accepted this role, he also received permission from the bishop of Hippo (now Annaba in Algeria) to create a community of Christian men and women who renounced wealth in favour of a communal life of religious service.  He later became the bishop of Hippo himself.

Augustine’s guidelines were not written down as a single set of rules like those of St Benedict, but were assembled from a letter to his sister a nun, which offered thoughts on how a monastic establishment should be run.  These had no influence on the development of monastic life until the 11th century and it is not known whether the rule itself was rediscovered or whether Augustine’s ideas were simply adopted from his other extensive writings to create a rule carrying the saint’s authority, applicable not only to monasteries but other religious communities, including hospitals.  

The Augustinian monastic organization was founded in the 11th century, with papal approval.  Its monks were popularly known as the Black Canons, canons being members of a monastic community of priests.  Unlike those monastic orders based on the Rule of St Benedict, the Augustinians, or Austins, were ordained priests and were able to leave their monastery to work in the community to carry out pastoral work. The foundation of hospitals was also an integral part of many of the Augustinian establishments.

The central ideas of the rule by the 12th century were that canons should emulate the apostles, abandoning their possessions, leading a celibate, contemplative life that included prayer, in which personal poverty, self-discipline, mutual responsibility and charitable generosity were more important than austerity and seclusion. Augustinian canons could spend time in the community and conduct services in churches.  The maximum number of canons permitted in a single establishment was 24, and at the time of the Dissolution there was half this number at Haughmond.  No two establishments necessarily operated in the same way, although many of the monasteries shared the basic Benedictine layout of the main buildings gathered around cloisters.  Many were very small, usually holding the status of priory, but Haughmond was promoted to an abbey early in its history.  It was unusually large, and was gathered around two cloisters, as well as an infirmary, now lost.
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Entering the site today – orienting yourself

Haughmond Site Plan. Source: Iain Ferris 2010 (see sources at end)

The site is entered from the south where the Abbot’s Hall, private rooms and reredorter (latrine block) are located (at the bottom of the plan at left).  In the medieval period all visitors would only have entered at the opposite end of the site, to the north, where the remains of the church and its two transepts are to be found.  The monastic complex is an integrated whole, incorporating both domestic and religious functions in a single unit, although it grew up over time, advancing from north to south, beginning with the church, in the opposite direction from which you enter.  Repairs and reinventions mean that there are many layers to understand within the abbey complex.

Sandwiched between the Abbot’s Hall at the south end of the monastery and the church at the north end are two cloisters (square arrangements of buildings, each around a central green area).  The two cloisters are separated by the frater (refectory) that makes up the north wall of the southern cloister and the south wall of the northern one.

The official guidebook has a recommended circular route either straight ahead from the entrance, via the Abbot’s Hall, or via the reredorter (latrine block) to the right.  It does help to have a site plan to walk with, either in the guide book or printed out, particularly given that even with experience of previous monasteries, it’s a complex site with some features only surviving to the height of a few courses of stone.
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The development of Haughmond Abbey

A splendid reconstruction of Haughmond Abbey by Josep Casals for English Heritage / Historic England. Source: English Heritage. My annotations based on the plan shown in the Haughmond Abbey guidebook. North is to the left, where the church is located. Click to enlarge

Like most high-status buildings, Haughmond changed considerably over time.  It began in the 11th century as an isolated community. The reasons for the location have not been recorded but the English Heritage survey of the site suggests the following:

[T]he comparative remoteness of the area on the woodland fringe, the shelter provided by the slope and the ready availability of building stone are all valid explanations. However, these conditions apply widely along the foot of Haughmond Hill and so it was probably the occurrence of a number of springs along this particular section of the escarpment which was the determining factor. The need for a reliable water supply for drinking, washing and carrying away waste hardly needs stating but there is also the possibility that the first community chose to settle here because the springs already had an established spiritual significance. (Pearson et al 2003)

Small entrance to Haughmond Abbey from the south, now the entrance for visitors.  The main gateway was at the north.

One of the important achievements of the combined excavations was to establish that an earlier abbey had preceded the 12th century Augustinian priory.  The remains of a  small cruciform stone church were found beneath the south transept and the northeast cloister and it is suggested that it may have been built by an eremetical community, either in the late Saxon or early Norman period. A small cemetery of 24 graves that was found immediately to the west of that church included child burials, suggesting that it was serving the community at large, not merely the monastery.

The monastery was later re-established by the FitzAlan family under William FitzAlan I in the 1130s as a priory using the Rule St Augustine to guide its activities.  This included rebuilding of the church and cloister that provided the Augustinian priory an integral part of its later identity.  It was so richly endowed that it was soon given abbey status.  The FitzAlan family continued to be patrons of the abbey and were buried at the site until the mid-14th century.  They eventually transferred their loyalties to another establishment when the Lestrange family took over as primary patrons, their endowments allowing further expansion.  During the 13th and 14th centuries further elaborations were made, and in the early 16th century it underwent remodeling, just in time for the Dissolution in 1535.

Information panel at Haughmond showing the daily liturgy followed by the Black Canons. Click to enlarge

As a wealthy abbey, Haughmond was not amongst the first to be closed down, and lasted until 1539, at which time the remaining community members were pensioned off.  After it had been plundered for its treasures for Henry VIII’s coffers the abbot’s quarters were converted to a country home for Sir Edward Littleton, with some of the other buildings remaining in use.  It continued to be a home until the Civil War when a fire put an end to its residential use. It was eventually handed over to the Office of Works in 1933.  The 2002 survey by English Heritage established the extent of the abbey precinct and identified its water management systems, neither of which had been fully understood before.  The excavations found numerous objects, Romanesque architectural stonework, human remains, animal bones, pottery and metalwork all dating to the abbey’s occupation.
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The Abbey Layout

The preservation of the buildings is very variable, with the abbot’s residence and hall and chapter house being the main and very impressive survivors.  The inner wall of the west range survives, and there are some fascinating architectural details dotted around, but most of the site is represented by low courses of stone that reach only a few feet high.  This does not undermine the visit, because these lower courses preserve the layout of a complex site, which offers a great many insights into life at Haughmond.

The monastic precinct

Plan of the abbey in the 2002 survey. Source: Pearson et al survey report 2003, English Heritage (see Sources at end).

The site is large, but only represents the core buildings.  The monastic precinct was much bigger.  Access to the monastic precinct would have been via the main gatehouse.  The remains of this was found in the 2002 survey, to the west of the church.  The boundaries of the monastic precinct were not found in 1907, but were revealed by the 2002 English Heritage survey.  This provided a good idea of the full extent of the site, making it easier to visualize it beyond its current footprint, and at the same time offered an entirely new interpretation of the site’s drainage management, always an important aspect of monastic establishments which, as well as requiring fresh water, had waste management and other drainage requirements.

The church

Haughmond Abbey Church interpretation panel. The sacred east end with the presbytery/chancel is on the left, with the nave to the west on the right, and a dividing screen between them. Click to enlarge.

Although there is nothing left to give an idea of how the interior would have looked, the very lowest courses of the church retain its footprint, and excavations have provided some more information, derived from the masonry of the site.  The church had the usual cruciform plan of a long nave, short chancel,  two side transepts, 60m (200ft) long in total, with a short tower over the crossing.   Visitors would have entered into the nave of the church via the north porch, penetrating no further than the church nave.  The nave was divided from the sacred east end of the church by a stone screen.  The cloister and the rest of the monastic establishment would have been completely out of bounds for ordinary visitors.  The canons would enter from the cloister side.  Interestingly, the site is terraced beneath the line of the church, meaning that the altar would have been physically higher than the transepts, involving a great many steps to reach the high altar, which would have been higher than the nave, emphasizing the hierarchy of the church from sacred east to secular west.  The transepts would have contained chapels where the ordained priests could say masses to the dead.  There were also altars, other than the main altar, to St Andrew and St Anne.  An aisle was added to the north side of the nave, the pier bases of which were found during the 1907 excavations.

Looking down the terraced profile of what remains of the church

The main cloister

The processional doorway

The church makes up the north side of the cloister, offering it some protection from the elements and allowing in the sun, which helped to light both the church and the cloister buildings.  The main cloister was rectangular and the other three sides were made up of three ranges of buildings with a green, the garth, at its centre. Nothing remains of the walkway that would have connected these four ranges of buildings.

Connecting the cloister or the nave was the processional doorway, a magnificent 12th century feature through which the monks could carry reliquaries, saint images and portable shrines on days of particular religious significance.  Like the chapter house, it has elaborate patterning on the out of the recessed arches and is flanked by two statues representing St Peter (left) and St Paul (right).

The facade of the Chapter House

The most important building in the east range, which is partly made up by the north transept of the church, is the chapter house, where the daily business of the monastery was discussed. Its  lovely facade includes the entrance flanked by two windows, all with receding layers of arching featuring decorative patterns, and featuring eight statues showing saints between the slender columns.  Although the arches belong to the 12th century, the statues were added in the 14th.  Some are in rather better condition than others, but include St Augustine, a female saint who perhaps represents St Winifred of Shrewsbury Abbey, St Thomas Becket, St Catherine of Alexandria, St John the Evangelist, St John the Baptist, and St Margaret of Antioch.  The building underwent further changes at the beginning of the 16th century, probably including the addition of a wooden ceiling.  The tombstones and the font were probably moved here from the church after the monastery went out of use.

Interpretation board discussing the chapter house saints

 

Interior of the chapter house

Detail of one of the interpretation panels

The remains of the west range.

Opposite the chapter house is what remains of the western range.  The inner wall survives, with two tall arched recesses, which  probably contained a laver, a basin that the monks used for washing before eating.  Further along at the northern end adjacent to the processional doorway an entrance lead into the western range, with decorated capitals at the top of the columns.  The outer walls have been lost.  The western range was used differently from one establishment to another, and it is not known how this example was used.

Gateway into the western cloister, showing multiple levels of structural change

The southern range was made up of the refectory (dining hall) with an undercroft (storage area) below.  The floor of the dining hall is long gone, but some decorative features remain in the walls, and it once had a great window over a central pointed arch.  The undercroft opened out into the monastic precinct via an arched entrance and and two flanking windows.  The remains of the pillars that supported the refectory wall remain, together with a drain running towards the north.  The full length of the refectory was 30ft 6ins (c.9m) wide by c.81ft (c.25m) long.

The refectory undercroft with pillars and drain

Interpretation panel showing the refectory and its undercroft

Behind the chapter house and overlapping with half of the dormitory is what is known as the Longnor’s Garden, now an empty space with a wall behind it, established in the mid-15th century for Abbot Longor.  As well as a dovecote it was presumably used to grow herbs, for both cooking and medicinal use.

The little cloister

Kitchen ovens

A narrow gap at the east end of the refectory allowed access from the main cloister into the little cloister.  A low line of stone marks the line of the former walkway that surrounded the little cloister. This contained another four ranges, the northernmost of which was made up by the refectory.  The entrance to the refectory was probably originally from the main cloister, but once the little cloister was established, the entrance was on this side, which makes sense as the early 14th century western range consists of a surprisingly large kitchen area with two giant ovens and chimneys.  The 1332 document by Abbot Longnor that permitted this survives, stating that the prior and monastic community “may have from henceforth a new kitchen assigned for the frater, which we will cause to be built with all speed ; in which they may cause to be prepared by their special cook such food as pertains to the kitchen of that which shall be served to them, every day, by the canons and ministers appointed to that end by them by leave of the abbot.”

The kitchen and refectory, side by side. To the left of the refectory wall, and in front of the ovens is the line of little cloister’s walkway.

Opposite the kitchens were the two-storey dormitory and its undercroft, set at an angle to the little cloister and terminating at the south side with an entrance into the reredorter (latrine block), which was set at an angle to the dormitory. The undercroft survives, but the upper levels that made up the dormitory are now lost. The building is 125 ft long by 27 ft wide, with a row of columns along the centre, dividing it into eleven bays.  The remaining stonework preserves indications of doorways, windows and fireplaces.  In the mid-15th century the north end of the dormitory was divided off to provide private space for the quarter’s of the abbot’s second in command, the prior.

View part-way along the dormitory, looking towards the chapter house

The drain of the reredorter

At the southern end of the little cloister were the abbot’s apartments, consisting of a hall and private rooms.  The remains of an earlier and much smaller set of13th century apartments survives at the east, but was replaced by the much more ambitious, decorated 14th century buildings that partly survive today.  The main feature of the hall is an enormous pointed window, with fragments of stone tracery remaining, set over twin pointed arches, and flanked by two small towers.  Three sets of windows, with tracery, let light in on either side, and again provide the rooms with gothic flair. The Abbot’s private rooms feature a distinctive 5-sided oriel window with distinctive decorative elements.

The abbot’s private rooms on the right, and his hall to the left

The abbot’s hall

The fireplace in the abbot’s hall

 

Interpretation panel for the abbot’s hall

The oriel window in the abbot’s private rooms

Some of the decorative features in the abbot’s private rooms

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Records mention an infirmary at Haughmond, as well as a library.  The library would usually be closely associated with the chapter house, but there is no sign of one today.  In early 20th century plans the infirmary is marked where the abbot’s hall is now located, and the infirmary has not actually been located.  The consensus is that the local topography means that it could not have been to the east of the site.  Two fishponds were not far away, and others were associated with mills.
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Economic activities

View of the western side of the monastery from the outside

Although patrons were important for establishing monastic establishments and continuing to support them, many of the endowments took the form of land, and the success of a monastery was largely dependent on how well that land and other assets were managed.  There were two main models for making an income from these assets – either by the owners working it themselves or by leasing it out.  In the case of Haughmond the assets included considerable amounts of farmed land, as well as fulling (wool processing) and corn mills.  Although lying within a royal forest, the abbey was given limited permission to assart land (clear woodland and shrubs for farming), and also acquired newly assarted lands in the area.  It owned land under cultivation but also established cattle farming on higher ground.  Lands were not only in Shropshire but from the late 12th century it also owned land in Cheshire, Worcestershire, Wales, Sussex and Norfolk.  Fishing rights were also important, and the abbey had its own fishponds, as well as fishing rights both nearby and from the river Dee at Chester, the latter doubtlessly annoying the Benedictine monks of St Werburgh’s in Chester.  It also received income from six churches that had been passed to its control, including Hanmer in Flintshire, the only one outside Shropshire; it had properties in Shrewsbury that it rented out; and was granted the rights to and a one half salt-pan in Nantwich.

Many small bequests were made to secure prayers, to assist the infirmary and to provide for the poor who came to the monastery gate for alms.  The monastery also sold corrodies, which were substantial gifts made to the monastery in return for food and housing, a form of pension. On the other hand, corrodies were also provided to loyal servants, in which case they represented an outlay rather than an income.

Farming land just beyond Haughmond Abbey

It is thought that between the 13th and early 14th centuries the abbey restructured in order to consolidate the dispersed properties to make them easier to manage, something that happened at a lot of other monastic establishments that found themselves in this situation, causing real management difficulties.  By selling some lands and acquiring others in more suitable locations, consolidation made management much easier and less costly.  At least some of the land was leased out, but other lands were worked directly,  However the surviving records are insufficient to allow a clear view of how well the abbey managed its assets, how all of its lands were used and what sort of activity provided the most income.

In spite of the recorded assets, in the early 16th century the abbey clearly experienced difficulties, both in the management of its estates and in the internal discipline of the monastery itself.  This is put down to poor management by two of its abbots.  Under its final abbot, Thomas Corveser, it began to recover and it was still sufficiently wealthy to avoid immediate closure in 1535, surviving another four years, and the surviving personnel were provided with generous pensions.
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Final Comments

This is a very quiet site, and because it feels so peaceful and retains some lovely features of its 12th century Romanesque origins, has a particular charm to it.  I particularly like that some of the domestic buildings that rarely survive at other sites, including the vast hearths in the former kitchen, and the reredorters connected to the dormitory, can be clearly made out.  I was expecting the Augustinian arrangement to have significant differences from Benedictine prototypes, but there was nothing much on the ground to differentiate them.  The decorative features certainly mark them out as less austere than, for example, the Cistercians, but otherwise the architectural concept of a monastery in the medieval period is impressively uniform.
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Visiting

Haughmond Abbey is an English Heritage site.  It was open free of charge when I was there in October 2024, but its opening times and ticket prices may vary with the season.  See details on the English Heritage website here.  The postcode for those of you with SatNav is SY4 4RW.  The guide book, published in 2000, claims that the little building on the left as you enter is a museum, but this was very firmly closed when I visited. Perhaps it is open during the summer, or it may have shut down for good by now.  Please let me know if you find out!

There are interpretation boards throughout the site, which help to explain it.  The helpful guide booklet by Iain Ferris is available from online retailers, but may also be available from English Heritage sites with gift shops in the area.  It combines Haughmond, Lilleshall and Moreton Corbet Castle in the same 24-page booklet, with 14 pages dedicated to Haughmond and the Augustinians, 8 pages to Lilleshall and 2 to Moreton Corbet Castle.  It includes the ever-essential site layouts of Haughmond and Lilleshall.  There are also very useful details about the history of the site on the English Heritage’s Haughmond Abbey History page here.  If you are interested in following a trail of some of the Shropshire abbeys including Haughmond, Mike Salter’s booklet “A Shropshire Abbeys Trail” is a good place to start, available to purchase online.

Other sites in the area, a selection of which would help to make up a good day out include Wroxeter Roman City (about which I have posted here), the Cluniac Order’s Wenlock Priory at Much Wenlock (posted about here), another Augustinian abbey at Lilleshall, Moreton Corbet Castle, and of course the town of Shrewsbury itself, with its lovely architecture, terrific abbey church (within the outskirts of the town) and the excellent Shrewsbury Museum and Art Gallery. with its modern displays connecting different periods of the history of both town and area.

The abbot’s hall, with the remains of its predecessor in the foreground

 

Sources

Books and Papers

Angold, M.J. Angold, George C. Baugh, Marjorie M. Chibnall, D.C. Cox, D.T.W. Price, Margaret Tomlinson, B.S. Trinder 1973.  Houses of Augustinian canons: Abbey of Haughmond, in (eds.) A.T. Gaydon, and R.B. Pugh.  A History of the County of Shropshire: Volume 2. London.
British History Online: https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/salop/vol2/pp62-70 

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

Chadwick, Peter 1986. Augustine. A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press

Levitan, Bruce 1989.  Ancient Monuments Laboratory Report 118/89. Vertebrate Remains from Haughmond Abbey, Shropshire. English Heritage
https://historicengland.org.uk/research/results/reports/3917/VERTEBRATEREMAINSFROMHAUGHMONDABBEYSHROPSHIRE

Pearson, Trevor, Stuart Ainsworth and Graham Brown 2003.  Haughmond Abbey, Shropshire: Survey Report Archaeological Investigation Report Series AI/10/2003. English Heritage
https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archiveDS/archiveDownload?t=arch-1893-1/dissemination/pdf/englishh2-349481_1.pdf

Salter, Mike 2009.  A Shropshire Abbeys Trail. Folly Publications

St John Hope, William H. and Harold Brakspear 1909. Haughmond Abbey, Shropshire Archaeological Journal, 66 (1909), p.281–310
https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archiveDS/archiveDownload?t=arch-1132-1/dissemination/pdf/066/066_281_310.pdf

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

Ferris, Iain 2000. Haughmond Abbey, Lilleshall Abbey, Moreton Corbet Castle. English Heritage

West, Jeffrey J. and Nicholas Palmer 2014. Haughmond Abbey. Excavation of a 12th-century cloister in its historical and landscape context. English Heritage


Websites

ArchaeoDeath
Identities in Stone: Haughmond Abbey’s Saints and Spolia. By Prof. Howard M. R. Williams,
October 17th 2016
https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2016/10/17/identities-in-stone-haughmond-abbeys-saints-and-spolia/

English Heritage
Haughmond Abbey
https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/haughmond-abbey/
History of Haughmond Abbey
https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/haughmond-abbey/history/
Medieval Women and Haughmond Abbey
https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/haughmond-abbey/history/women-at-haughmond/

Historic England
Haughmond Abbey: an Augustinian monastery on the site of an earlier religious foundation, a post-Dissolution residence and garden remains
https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1021364?section=official-list-entry

 

Lovely 1858 engraving of the Minerva Shrine in Chester

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

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

I love the map!
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Messing around with my iPhone, this is the Minerva Shrine back in June 2024.

 

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

Introduction

North transept

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blind arcading in the Chapter House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bronze effigy of Edward III in Westminster Cathedral

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

The Anglo-Saxon Monastery dedicated to St Milberga

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

 

Entering the site today – orienting yourself

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

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

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

Chapter House

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

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

 

The Church

A multi-phase construction

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Upper Chamber, seen from the Cloister

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

Medieval tiles

 

The 3-storey Transepts and the Crypt

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

The south transept

South Transept

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

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

Unique feature in the west wall of the south transept

The north transept

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

The crypt and possible sacristy

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

The possible sacristy, backing on to the north transept

The crypt below the possible sacristy

The East End, the Treasury and the Lady Chapel

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

The Treasury

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

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

The Main Cloister

The Garth with the walkway and lavabo

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

The East Range

The magnificent Chapter House

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

Entrance to the chapter house from the cloister

The Chapter House

Blind arcading in the Chapter House

Decorative features in the Chapter House

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

Decorative touches in the Chapter House

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

The library with medieval floor tiles

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

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

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

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

The South Range – the refectory

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

The West Range

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

 

The Secondary Cloister and beyond

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

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

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

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

Final Comments

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

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

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

 

Visiting

Entrance to the cloister

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

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

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

 

Sources

Books and papers

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

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

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

McNeill, John 2020. Wenlock Priory. English Heritage

Pinnell, Julie 1999. Wenlock Priory. English Heritage

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

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

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

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Websites

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

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

 

 

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

Introduction

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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Visiting

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

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

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

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

 

Sources

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

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

Books and papers

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

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

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

Websites

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

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

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

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