The Two Towers

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With ‘Heritage at Risk’ the theme of our Lichfield Discovered meeting this month, I was having a flick through the English Heritage At Risk Register to see whether there were any other buildings in the district keeping the Angel Croft Hotel company on the list. It seems much of what’s considered ‘at risk’ in these parts is landscape features – a causewayed enclosure and settlement sites in Fradley/Streethay, a round barrow at Alrewas and a site near Elford, although built heritage does appear in the form of the walls and gate piers at Colton House, the ruined remains of an old manor house at Hamstall Ridware and the old church tower at Shenstone. The inclusion of the latter was of particular interest as I’d been there for a nose just days before.

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When the present church of St John’s was built in the 1850s, the existing church was partly demolished leaving just the tower and the south door visible. Time and nature are doing their best to finish the job the Victorians started – English Heritage have assessed it as being category A meaning that it is at ‘Immediate risk of further rapid deterioration or loss of fabric; no solution agreed’.

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The tower had a wooden ladder but no staircase

The ruins are thought to incorporate Norman features and possibly some Anglo-Saxon masonry.

As you’d expect, many of the village’s old residents are to be found here in their eternal rest. According to William Pitt, at least one of them did not go gentle into that good night – Susannah Southwell of Shenstone was married at the age of 112 (although he doesn’t record how old the groom was nor how long it was until death did them part). The Wikipedia entry for Shenstone says that a 2007 survey found that it was one of the ten worst places in England for finding single women. Perhaps that’s always been the case?

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Local sandstone was used to build both new and old churches and it’s this geology that caused David Horovitz to question whether the place name Shenstone really does mean ‘shining stone’, suggesting that sandstone could “hardly be described as ‘bright, shining or beautiful'” (although anyone who has seen Lichfield Cathedral glowing in the late afternoon sunshine may well disagree). Mr Horovitz has suggested that Shenstone may instead refer to a personal name, or even to stone monuments left behind by the Romans (remains of a villa have been discovered on the outskirts of the village and Wall is only around a mile away).One of the reasons I love the study of place names is that it can give us a glimpse of somewhere as seen through the eyes of people who once lived there hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. The view can be a little hazy though and sometimes we can only guess at why our ancestors chose the descriptions they did.

Whatever the true meaning may be, it is the ‘shining stone’ theory that inspired Jo Naden’s steel sculpture for the village’s Lammas Land in 2002, described by the invaluable PMSA website as follows, “(The artist) chose to site her sculpture in the Black Brook, which runs through the Lammas Lands used by the Celts as a site for harvest festival rites, in order to make a connection with Celtic culture. Trees, held sacred by the Celts, are reflected in the mirror finish of the stainless steel, while the text inscribed on it* is taken from the words of an unknown ninth-century Irish author. The placing of the stone at a point near where a bridge built on a north-south orientation crosses a stream running from west to east would have been considered sacred by the Celts because it symbolised the meeting of polar opposites”.
*A flock of birds settle ….. the green field re- echoes where there is a brisk bright stream

I stood on the little footbridge watching the swollen Black Brook flow over the sculpture for a few minutes until I was ordered off by a toddler clutching a handful of twigs ready to make an offering of pooh sticks to the water at this sacred spot.

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A Landscape Survey of the Parish of Shenstone, edited by Richard Totty for The Staffordshire Archaeological and Historical Society Lichfield 2009

A Topographical History of Staffordshire, William Pitt

‘A Survey and Analysis of the Place-Names of Staffordshire’
by David Horovitz, LLB

Banned Stand

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How do you make a bandstand? Take away the chairs. Or if you’re lucky, a local dignitary will provide you with one. In July 1893, during his third stint as Mayor of Lichfield, Major John Gilbert presented the city with a bandstand to mark the marriage of Princess Mary of Teck and the Duke of York (later George V and Queen Mary).

The Bandstand in 1905, taken from Wikipedia Commons

The Bandstand in 1905, taken from Wikipedia Commons

It stood in the Recreation Grounds of what is now Beacon Park but by 1925, Major Gilbert’s gift had become a bit of a problem. In March, the secretary of the Lichfield Cycling Institute wrote to the City Council saying that since the cycle track had been created in the Recreation Grounds, many thought that the bandstand should be removed. Even with padding around the structure, there was the risk of an appalling accident. Councillor Perrins agreed with the cyclists. In his opinion the bandstand was a death-trap and should be removed, or the track shut. Alderman Winter wanted the wishes of the late donor’s family to be taken into account but Councillor Tayler thought this was ‘sentiment before service’. In the end, the matter was referred to the Museum Committee. In December 1925, the Mercury gave an update on ‘that bandstand’. Lichfield City Council had decided to keep it where it was as it would collapse if it was moved. It was fortified with concrete, bricks and stone (some of which came from the old Friary – more bits of that ancient building can supposedly be found at the toilets in the park).  One member of the council defended the bandstand’s retention on the grounds it was an object of beauty.  However, the Mercury correspondent’s view was that ‘it is even less useful than it is beautiful’. One concession that was made to public demand was that the railings near to the cycle track were taken in line with the base of the stand. The Mercury concluded by suggesting that Lichfield be grateful for these small mercies, ‘even if the circumstances do not incline us to raise a song of joy about them’.

I think the bandstand was round abouts here

I think the bandstand was round abouts here

I believe that eventually the bandstand was eventually removed due to costs of upkeep. I’m not sure exactly when this was but believe it to have been sometime in the 1960s (it doesn’t show on a 1966 map of Lichfield). When I went to have a look at where the bandstand once stood, I spotted this old metal post. It looks to me as if it was part of the old gates leading into the recreation grounds, which you can see on the postcard above.

You never know what's lurking in the shrubbery...

You never know what’s lurking in the shrubbery…

Rumour has it that the bandstand itself is also still to be found in the park somewhere… Sounds a little unlikely? You’d be amazed at what people leave lying around gathering moss. I’ve heard that over the years people have called for a new Beacon Park bandstand. Yet, prior to its removal the original doesn’t seem to have been that popular or well used (although some blamed the lack of interest on Lichfield’s junior citizens for running around the bandstand making a noise, and driving the spectators away). Is a new bandstand a good idea or rose tinted nostalgia? Either way, I’d love to know if you find any bits of the old one in the shrubbery.

 

Sign of the Times

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On Facebook, another member of the Lichfield Discovered group posted a photograph of a shop sign that had been hiding underneath a Connells Estate Agents sign on Bore Street.

What other old signs lurk beneath the plastic facades?

What other old signs lurk beneath plastic facades?

I started to do a bit of reading about the use of signs and lettering on buildings and came across an article in the Independent, which features a self confessed font geek called Anthony Harrington. “Typefaces work well as little milestones,” he says. “They anchor a building to a time and a function, whether it’s commercial or social, and this is a heritage worth preserving”. There’s also a map and an app which aims, ‘to photographically record publicly available lettering and type throughout the capital’.

It’s an interesting idea and so I had a wander around to see what other examples I could find in the Lichfield. In October 1953, the School of Art principal Miss EM Flint declared that city was remarkably deficient in the provision of well-rendered signs and notices. Is this still true sixty years later? Anymore good examples out there?

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You have to include a sign that has letters with eyebrows

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Trouble at t'mill

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Unlike the fulling mill built on Leomansley Brook in 1790, which only seems to have lasted for a hundred years or so, the nearby mill on the Trunkfield Brook was part of the landscape for a long, long time.

Up until the nineteenth century it seems it was known as Sandford Mill, but at some point became known as Trunkfields. Owned by St John’s hospital, it first appears in records in 1294, and again in 1658 when the miller got into trouble for encroaching on the highway when re-building it. Cartography wise, the first map I can see that shows the mill (just as a symbol), is the 1775 Yates one. In 1853 the Conduit Land Trustees rented it out and converted it to steam power and shortly afterwards was apparently used as a bone mill. Jame Meacham gave up the mill in 1872 and it fell into disuse. In 1883 it was suggested as a potential site for a small pox and infectious diseases hospital .The property owners and inhabitants in the area were not happy and came up with the following list of reasons why the site was, in their opinion,  ‘in every way disadvantageous, not only to the immediate neighbourhood but to the whole city’.

1. The road past the pool was the only access road to a good deal of field property in the area.

2. A public footpath, much frequented, leading to the Birmingham Rd goes within a few yards of the building.

3. There are no less than eighty homes on the Walsall Rd, with a population of around 480 and there are other properties close by including the vicarage and the cottages (presumably those on what is now Christchurch Lane).

4. The site is in the midst of a large and respectable population.

5. There is a prospect of a considerable increase in the number of houses.

6. The prevalent wind on this side of the City of Lichfield is that which blows almost direct from the Trunkfield Pool to the city.

7. The site is notoriously damp and unhealthy and thoroughly unsuited for a hospital of any description

8.Many of the cottagers are in the habit of going to the pool for their water supply.

9. Trunkfield Pool is the only public place for skating within the precincts of the city.

In the end, there was no hospital on the site of Trunkfields Mill. Instead, it became a farm (and people carried on skating there for some years – an advert in the Lichfield Mercury, February 2 1917 carried an advert that simply said ‘Skating!!! Skating!!! at Trunkfields Pool, Walsall Road, Lichfield. You’d think people would have been more wary after horrific accidents like this in London 1867).

There's not much left to suggest there was a mill here although there are sluice gates along the brook

There’s not much left to suggest there was a mill here although there are sluice gates along the brook

On the Burntwood Family History website there is a great photograph of Mr and Mrs David Blair (see here) who came from Scotland to Trunkfields Farm in 1890. There is a snippet in the Lichfield Mercury about a not very neighbourly spat between David Blair and fellow farmer Edward Thomas Sankey of Sandfields Farm in November 1895, when the latter summoned the former for assault. According to Sankey he was making his way home via Trunkfields when Blair stopped him and told him he was trespassing. Sankey said it was a public highway and Blair apparently took hold of his coat and collar and pushed him. Then Mrs Blair came out and told Sankey to go home via Mr Hollier’s field. Sankey refused and Blair hit him in the face and threatened to throw him into the mill pond. Blair accused Sankey of being drunk and said if he had pushed him, as he was accused of doing, he would have fallen down. Another farmer, Joseph Standley was called as a witness.  He had seen part of the dispute and was ‘so amused that he ‘nearly burst himself with laughing’, although he did support Mr Blair’s assertion that Sankey was drunk and hadn’t been hit or pushed by him. The case was dismissed and Sankey ordered to pay the costs.

Several sources, including the county history and local HER records record the mill pool being backfilled in 1930. However, this seems to be a bit at odds with an article in the Lichfield Mercury on 14th February 1947, which reported that Mr Saxton, the owner of Trunkfield Mill Pond, had been thanked by the Lichfield City Council health committee  for agreeing that the pond could be used for controlled tipping without rent but given back to him when filled in. I’m sure the residents weren’t quite as thankful – what about the detrimental effect on the respectable population and their winter skating?

Apparently some of the mill/farm buildings remained until the 1980s/90s, which is before my time in Lichfield but there must be plenty that do remember. What I do recall is that until recently there was a derelict modern-ish property on the site, known as Blair House (presumably after David Blair and his family). This has now been demolished with new houses currently being built on the site.

Took me a while to work out what was going on with the chimney

Took me a while to work out what was going on with the chimney

There were objections to this, based on the fact that vehicular approach to the new houses was a narrow lane used by children walking to school. I suspect this must also have been the lane that the protesters against the isolation hospital were referring to. It’s now been given a (new?) name which turns out to be Halfpenny Lane, the road I was looking for back in October last year.  Now split into two by the realignment of the Walsall Road in the 1830s (the other part is known as Middle Lane) it led to Christchurch Lane (the original Walsall Road) for at least two hundred years, if not longer.

Found a Halfpenny

Found a Halfpenny

I had intended to walk down this lane, but it was blocked off due to the building work and so I was forced to negotiate the labyrinth that is the Walsall Rd estate. I eventually found my way out and was rewarded for my efforts by the discovery of an old metal gatepost in some shrubbery near to the old Conduit Lands Pumping Station cottage on the Walsall Road which may be a left over relic from those days. More info on the pumping station on Brownhillls Bob’s blog here.

I was chuffed to spot this. I am very easily pleased.

I was chuffed to spot this. I am very easily pleased.

I also saw some graffiti on the side of a house. I don’t condone it but I do confess to being a little intrigued…..

PR Graffiti

Question mark?

 

Sources:

Lichfield: Economic history’, A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 14: Lichfield(1990), pp. 109-131

Click to access cstaffs.pdf

Click to access lichfieldeusreportfinal.pdf

L is for…

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Back in October, during the Lichfield Discovered group walk around Leomansley, a friend of mine, Kerry, happened to mention that she’d discovered a large stone, buried at the bottom of her Leomansley garden. Not just any old stone either – it has a perfect ‘L’ carved into it which clearly has some significance. The question is what?

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My initial thought was that it was a boundary stone of some kind. As far as I can see, the area where the stone was discovered was undeveloped until the mid 20th century and was previously agricultural land known as Parnell’s field. I know that there was also common land in Leomansley, stretching south and east from Leamonsley Mill Pond to the Walsall Road  as well as a Lammas meadow, and so my best guess is that this could be a dole stone or similar, used to mark out strips of land or perhaps to mark the common land from land owned by others?

There’s a reference from May 1659, transcribed by Thomas Harwood in 1806 from a ‘Boke made in the 16 yere of the regne of kynge Edward the Fourthe. Thomas Dodde being Mastur of the Gilde of our Ladye Saynt Marie and of Seynt John the Baptiste in Lichfelde of all the lands and tenements lungyng to the forsaide Glide and the fyldes abowte Lychefeld and yn the towne” (1) including the following:

Parnelle’s Fylde – It’m, won acre in the myddyes of Parnelle’s fylde lyyng in brede betweene the londe of the Prioris of St Johanes and the londe of theres of Stafford in brede and shotes upon Lemonsley. It’m won crofte lying betwene Pipemyre and Lemonsley in lenkythe and betwene the londe of William Byrde and Lemonsley in brede.

To be honest, I can’t visualise how the jigsaw of land fitted together and so I think a trip to the record office, first stop the St Michael’s Tithe Map, is in order. (2)

In the meantime, Kerry and I would love to hear from anyone who may have any ideas on what the stone is, what it was for and of course, what the L might stand for. Leomansley? Lammas?  Also, as greedy as ever, I’m wondering if more stones might be out there somewhere. Time to do some gardening I think….

Big thanks to Kerry for sharing her discovery and for letting me share her photograph.

Notes

1) The spellings are as they are found in Harwood’s book. I like how even the spelling of Lichfield is inconsistent!

2) Something else Leomansely agriculture related. I had wondered why Saxon Walk, a cul-de-sac off the lane leading off Christchurch Lane, past Leomansley Woods, towards Pipe Green was so called. According to John Shaw, the name was taken from the name of the field which it was built on – Saxon’s Nook. Might be a good opportunity to take a look at some of the other old field names whilst I’ve got the Tithe Map out. Place names carry meanings.

3) I suppose I should consider the possibility that the stone actually came from elsewhere and ended up here through use as a garden feature or something.

Sources:

The History and Antiquities of the Church and City of Lichfield, Thomas Harwood

A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 14: Lichfield

Street Names of Lichfield John Shaw

Saxon Walk

 

Shiver Me Timbers

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Where there’s an old wooden beam, there’s often a rumour that it originated on an old ship. It’s a bit of folklore that I keep encountering time and time again, even here in landlocked Lichfield and Staffordshire. Back in 2011, I visited St John’s Hospital during the Lichfield Heritage Weekend and heard that the Master’s House, which was originally the canons’ and pilgrims’ hall and enlarged by Bishop Smythe in the late fifteenth century, was built using beams from galleons. On the ghost tour earlier this month, we were told that that wooden beams in an entry running alongside the Walter Smith butcher shop on Market Street came from old ships and when researching the Four Crosses Inn in Cannock for a piece in the Chase Gazette, I once again came across claims that the oldest part the building, dating to 1636, made use of timber from ships.

Alongside butcher shop on Market St. Beams are covered in stripy plastic on this photo unfortunately, but every now and again the alley is open for you to go and take a look...

Alongside butcher shop on Market St. Beams are covered in stripy plastic on this photo unfortunately, but every now and again the alley is open for you to go and take a look…

Last night, a discussion on Twitter about those other two old inn regulars – ghosts and Dick Turpin – moved onto the subject on the use of old ships’ beams and a quick google search revealed yet more old Midlands buildings making the claim including the Ye Olde Gate Inn in the Derbyshire village of Brassington and the appropriately named Old Ship Inn in Worksop, Nottinghamshire. Could there be any truth in any of these claims? As someone unfamiliar with the world of carpentry, I was interested to read a discussion between some experts on the matter which you can read here. Just as I was sure that this myth was pretty much busted I clicked on the link in the penultimate comment, which took me here – a website telling the story of the lost Brig Elizabeth Jane, launched in Nova Scotia in 1817 and abandoned off the Yorkshire coast in 1854. Incredibly, the name board and the port of registration board were discovered in a ceiling in Robin Hood’s Bay in 2003 leaving no doubt that this was one case where the rumours were true.

A one off perhaps? It seems not as shortly aftewards I came across the website of the Chesapeake Mill in Hampshire, where the beams, joists and floors are all said to have been constructed from the United States frigate ‘The Chesapeake’. On a slightly gory note, an extract from ‘The Navy and Army Illustrated’ in 1898, included on the  mill’s website, describes the joists as ‘covered with the blood of the men who were killed and wounded in action, and many bullets are embedded in them; in fact a good many of the timbers seem quite soaked with blood’.  You should read the full story on their website here it’s a fascinating place!

Closer to home, I found an article on Graiseley Old Hall in Wolverhampton which says that some of the purlins (now there’s a word I didn’t know existed until today!) in the roof came from old ships. What’s also interesting about this article is that it acknowledges that similar claims are made about many buildings, but that hard evidence to support it only exists in a few and then gives us a possible explanation for this, suggesting that often it could be a reference to the quality of the timber rather than where it came from.

I’d really like to hear of any more examples that people know of where old ships timbers are said to have been used, proved or otherwise.  When it comes to myths and folklore, we shouldn’t always believe everything we hear, but we should definitely listen in the first place. You never know where a story will lead.

 

 

 

Review of the Year…1884

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Around this time, we seem to get the urge to look back and reflect on the events of the dying year. However, as I’m sure memories of 2013 are still fresh in your mind, let’s imagine instead that it’s the year 1884 that is drawing to a close and take a tour of the ‘Chronological List of the Principal Local Events’ of that year, courtesy of the Lichfield Mercury.

I never did get around to arranging that New Year's Eve party at the Friary Clock Tower...

I never did get around to arranging that New Year’s Eve party at the Friary Clock Tower…

In January, we have the adoption of fish dinners in the Lichfield Union Workhouse and a local government board enquiry into the affairs of Walsall Workhouse.  Whatever those affairs may have been, the next entry informs us they were concluded and moves on to the conviction of Thomas Skelton, a Lichfield Jockey and Trainer, fined £5 for assaulting a commercial traveller at Nottingham. The Trent Valley Brewery Company were in trouble too, alleged to have illegally seized the goods of a Southwell brewer. There was yet more excitement towards the end of the month with a ‘daring till robbery’ at Mr R Cleaver’s shop on Tamworth St.

Sports news in February when Lichfield Cricket Club decided to rent the ground previously known as the County Ground, to raise funds for a pavilion and to obtain the services of a professional cricketer. Over at Hednesford, the Poultry and Pigeon show took place over two days. Mrs Scott’s annual sale of work in Lichfield (who Mrs Scott was and what she was selling is tbc). More seriously, there was an inquiry into the sanitary conditions at the Birmingham Road Barracks in Lichfield, and a railway accident at Sutton Coldfield left an engine and guard’s van wrecked. As the month progressed,  the Brethren of St John’s Masonic Lodge decide to present a statue of Queen Victoria to fill in one of the niche’s on the Cathedral’s Western Front and the Lichfield Board of Guardians decided not to extend the workhouse. The month ended on a high with the Lichfield Old Fair.

March began with trouble on the railways –  a ‘slight accident’ at Lichfield and the commitment for trial of a Cannock Chase miner for attempting to wreck trains near Lichfield, both of which events warrant further exploration. Sir Arthur Scott at Great Barr passed away, as did Lichfield Workhouse Master, Mr Winkely, replaced almost immediately by Mr and Mrs Williams.

At the beginning of April, there was a meeting at Rugeley to condemn the ‘Deceased Wife’s Sister Bill’, and the sad discovery of a soldier found dead in an entry of Rotten Row in Lichfield. The inquest, unable to determine a cause of death, simply returned a verdict of ‘Found Dead’. In the middle of the month, the Lichfield Spring Races took place and the Sister Dora Memorial Convalescent Hospital at Milford was opened. On the 22nd, the Bishop of Lichfield said goodbye to the Derbyshire Clergy, as the county left the Diocese. and over at Brownhills, William Henry Wombwell was convicted of non-delivery of voting papers in the Local Board of Brownhills elections.

May 1884 was a grim month.  Two miners were committed for trial for shooting a man at Gentleshaw and the trial of the seventeen year old miner who attempted to wreck at train on the Trent Valley Line concluded with him being convicted and sentenced to seven years penal service. There was more trouble at Walsall Workhouse when the Master, William Pritchard, was accused of embezzlement and there was a tragic accident on the Walsall Rd, when a young man shot himself. One positive thing that took place this month was the rededication of the restored Western Front of Lichfield Cathedral.

Festivities in the month of June included the Court of Array and the Greenhill Bower, and the decoration of Dr Johnson’s Statue by the Staffordshire Yeomanry who were assembled in Lichfield for a week’s training under the command of Colonel Bromley-Davenport. Yet within days, things had taken a sour turn with a disturbance between the Yeomanry and Lichfield civilians and then the sudden death of Colonel Bromley-Davenport in St John St. In the days that followed, an inquest into the Colonel’s death, returning a verdict of ‘death by natural causes’, was held, as was a Military Court of Inquiry at Yeomanry House on St John St into the disturbances which had taken place.

July brought with it the closing of Fair Oak Colliery, a ‘Great Temperance Fete’ at Hagley Park, Rugeley and a guilty verdict for Mr Pritchard, the Walsall Workhouse Master, who was sentenced to fifteen months imprisonment for fraud.

August was a quiet month. The cornerstone of a new mission church was laid at Chase Terrace and there were a lot of sheep sales – the Beaudesert Flock and the Freeford Flock amongst them.

September was more eventful with the opening of the Lichfield and Sutton Coldfield Railway for goods traffic and of course, the annual Sheriff’s Ride. There was a fire at Mr Williams’ chemist on Bird St and Mr Peattie, of the Old Crown Hotel died from injuries sustained after being thrown from a trap near Whittington Barracks.  There was an Autumn race meeting at Lichfield, as well as the fifth annual Working Men’s Association Produce and Poultry Show.

In October, the Mercury reported on riots and destruction of property at a Conservative rally in Aston, Birmingham and the presumably much more sober affair that was the ‘Annual Festival of the Lichfield Diocesan Church of England Temperance Society’ rounded the month off.

November saw the opening of the new Lichfield City Station, an event seemingly marked with tragedy when, ten days later, a railway porter was killed there. Councillor J H Hodson was elected Mayor and there was a dinner at the Swan Hotel for the outgoing Mayor, T H Hunt. The Lichfield Board of Guardians were back to discussing the extension of the Workhouse again.

As the year drew to a close, there was another railway tragedy when a guard was killed on a siding at Shenstone, on the same day that the new Lichfield and Sutton Coldfield Railway was opened. The year ended with Lichfield Cricket Club deciding to purchase their pavilion for £150, a performance of Handel’s Messiah at St James’s Hall, a bazaar at Elmhurst Hall to raise funds for St Chad’s Church tower and finally, on 30th December 1883, a Great City Tea.

As well as the obvious interest of following up on some of these stories, something I find fascinating about something like this is how it’s so locally orientated, but then every now and then, you get glimpses of what was going on in the big wide world outside of Lichfield, and our corner of Staffordshire. I’m also tempted to look back over copies of the Lichfield Mercury for 1884 to see if I agree that these were the ‘Principal Local Events’ of that year or just something that the writer threw together in a hurry.

Of course, as well as looking back, it’s also a time to look forward. I may not be reviewing 2013 here but do just want to mention that I am looking forward to 2014, and especially the upcoming walks, talks and workshops that we’ve got planned for our group Lichfield Discovered. More to come on that shortly.  This history lark is always more fun when you do it with others and on that note, I’d just like to say thanks for reading the blog, especially to those who contributed in some way, whether by providing information or support and encouragement along the way. A very Happy New Year to you all!

Something Old, Something Neo

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At the end of the summer I went with friends to visit the Bridestones. Admittedly, this Neolithic burial chamber is a fair few miles from Lichfield and technically is not even in Staffordshire but definitely worth an excursion both in real life and also, I hope, via the blog.

The Bridestones are thought to be somewhere between six thousand and four thousand years old. When you think that the estimate for the monument’s age alone covers a range of around two thousand years, you realise just how little we can be certain of and how vast the time scales are when it comes to ‘prehistory’. It’s an absolute wonder that these stones are still standing, and all the more remarkable when you read of their treatment in the past. Back in the eighteenth century, the site was regarded as a convenient quarry and was plundered for its stone, some of which was used to build local houses and some of which was taken to build the nearby toll road, as described in Henry Rowlands’ 1766 Mona Antiqua Restaurata

There was a large heap of stones that covered the whole an hundred and twenty yards long, and twelve yards broad These stones have been taken away from time to time by masons and other people for various purposes. And in the year 1764 several hundred loads were carried away for making a turnpike road about sixty yards from this place which laid it open for examination.

 

There are also rumours that some of the stone can be found in the ornamental gardens at Tunstall Park, which was opened to the public in June 1908. I’m a little sceptical about this but it does once again raise that interesting idea of recycling materials from older structures. The stones are said to have sustained yet more damage in the nineteenth century, both accidentally, when a fire lit at the site caused the stones to crack, and deliberately, when an engineer working on the Manchester Ship Canal supposedly demonstrated how detonation worked on one of the larger stones.

When trying to understand sites like the Bridestones, we look to archaeology to provide us with answers. The Stoke on Trent Museum Archaeological Society have a fascinating report on their website which contains drawings of what the Bridestones may have looked like back in the eighteenth century together with details of the archaeological investigations which have since taken place and what they can tell us about this ancient structure. You can read it here. However, as well as evidence provided by science, I also enjoy the folklore and myths that grow up around sites like the Bridestones. There are stories that they mark the resting place of a murdered pair of newly weds, a Saxon woman and her Viking groom. Others say weddings once took place here. Was the name ‘Bridestones’ given to the site to reflect these stories, or were they invented to explain an already existing name? I think it’s worth considering that stories were (and still are) ways of sharing and passing on information and that perhaps sometimes this information might yet be contained within such stories, however naive and implausible they seem upon first listen.

As I mentioned at the start, the Bridestones sit on the Staffordshire/Cheshire border, just inside the latter county. There’s a boundary stone very close by on the drive leading to the site and surely it was due to the presence of the Bridestones themselves that the border was established here in the first place, acting as a memorable boundary landmark. Why did our ancestors chose to erect their monument at this particular spot in the first place though?

Despite being ransacked and not looked after properly over the years, this is still an incredible place and you should definitely take the time to hop over the border and pay this old Cheshire couple a visit.

Bones of Contention

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Last week, together with other members of the Lichfield Discovered group, I enjoyed a Gruesome and Ghostly tour around the city lead by one of Lichfield’s Green Badge Guides. Some tales were familiar (although it’s always fascinating to hear someone else’s version of a story you know), others were complete revelations. I was particularly intrigued by the story of an ancient adult male skeleton, apparently discovered with the remains of a tiny baby in his arms when an access road was being built behind Bakers Lane. (1) Obviously when listening to stories in these circumstances, you’re never quite sure where truth ends and anecdote, myth and legend creep in, and I was interested to know whether there was any substance to this story. As of yet I haven’t been able to find anything on this particularly, but as you might expect, searching for skeletons in Lichfield turns up all sorts of intriguing information….

In 1925, the Tamworth Herald got very excited when it heard that workers digging a trench in the grounds of St John’s Hospital in Lichfield had discovered human remains, announcing that the skeletons discovered were ‘probably over 700 years old’ and that they may be ‘priors and their bretheren’. The Rev John Ernest Auden, chaplain at the hospital, wrote to the Lichfield Mercury to set the record straight – yes, ten bodies had been discovered but it was unlikely that they were seven hundred years old, or even half that. It was also unlikely that they were priors as such burials were usually discovered alongside an article of their service, often a chalice and patten, as had been discovered in 1917 at the former leper’s hospital at Freeford (2).  It was much more likely that they were old residents of the hospital. Archaeological evidence in the form of tiles and pottery found alongside the bodies suggested that they had been there for around two hundred years. Rev Auden also recalled how, when he was curate of St Mary’s in 1886 to 1889, he could remember funerals taking place at St Johns and several older people he had known, including former resident of the hospital Henry Cartmale and City Coroner Charles Simpson, could recollect burials taking place in the grounds. Rev Auden also pointed out that there were three fairly modern gravestones under the Yew Tree supporting this.

Part of the courtyard at St John’s Hospital

Apparently one woman had protested at ‘the hideous sacrilege and desecration in using ground solemnly consecrated and dedicated as God’s acre for ever, for a bed for sewers’, and so Rev Auden took the opportunity to reassure her, and anyone else that was concerned about the work that was being carried out, that the bones had been collected and reburied together and that the Hospital Quadrangle would soon resume its peaceful aspect, plus the manholes.

Although they did make assumptions in this particular instance, to be fair to the Tamworth Herald, evidence for much older burials, in and around the hospital, was discovered in 1967, when according to the County History, a medieval burial was found during alterations to the almshouses. In June last year, Annette Rubery and local newspapers reported that further remains were found just one metre below the pavement outside the hospital, when workers were repairing a gas pipe, although I don’t think the date of this burial was ever confirmed?

In another post, I’ll look at ‘Councillor Moseley’s Graveyard’, the nickname given to the site of the Friary after Thomas Moseley secured permission to excavate the site in the 1930s, uncovering several skeletons and other archaeological remains, and also the area in and around Lichfield’s Cathedral Close, where amongst other discoveries, a very unusual burial was reportedly found within the walls of one of the buildings in the early eighteenth century. They don’t call this the Field of the Dead for nothing you know (4).

Notes:

(1) One of the reasons I find this particularly interesting is that it seems unusual that it’s a male skeleton with a young child. Over in St Michael’s churchyard, the remains of an adult with a child were discovered, but this was thought to be a mother who had died in childbirth (and was of course in consecrated ground). For more information on that see here. Also, it makes you think about past uses of land and what discoveries like this can tell us. Edit: I’ve just re-read the report and the actual wording is ‘an adult and tiny baby found buried together…it is possible they represent a mother and child who died at childbirth’, so I should make it clear.

(2) For more information on the human remains discovered at Freeford, and thought to be related to the fomer lepers hospital there, see here

(3) Mr Charles Simpson b. April 9th 1800. Solicitor, Town Clerk and Coroner for the City of Lichfield, and Clerk of the Peace for Staffordshire 1825.  d. April 22nd 1890Details from the Shrewsbury School Register 1734 – 1908, edited by….Rev J E Auden!

(4) As I’m sure everyone knows by now, Lichfield doesn’t really mean Field of the Dead, it’s just an old myth that’s most likely stuck because it’s more evocative than the real meaning of the the name which is thought to be something like ‘common pasture in or beside the grey wood’. For more on the place name and yet more Lichfield bones see here 

Sources:

:Lichfield Mercury Archive

Tamworth Herald Archive

www.annetterubery.co.uk

Hospitals: Lichfield, St John the Baptist’, A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 3(1970), pp. 279-289

Shrewsbury School Register 1734 – 1908, edited by Rev J E Auden

Sweet Bells

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One Saturday morning, as I sat reading in Lichfield Library, I heard a clip clopping in the street outside. Standing up to look out of the window, I saw a horse and carriage making its way up Bird St. It occurred to me that this was a sound and a sight that people would not have batted an eyelid nor an eardrum at in previous centuries, yet to my twenty first century ears, it was something so out of the normal it warranted me putting down a good book to have a shufty.

More often than not, when we explore the way our towns and cities have changed, it’s the visual changes that we concentrate on – old photographs, old maps, landscape features etc. Yet the sounds of places change too e.g. the pools at Leomansley are quiet and still now that the waterwheel of the mill no longer turns, the sounds of animals at the Smithfield have been replaced by those of cars and shoppers and Beacon Street hasn’t heard a blacksmith hammering metal in a long time. However, amidst the changes, there is also consistency in the sounds that surround us.

The tower at St Chad’s church houses four bells. Three of them were cast in the seventeenth century and the oldest of these three dates to 1625 with the inscription ‘DOMINO CANTICUM CANTATE NOVUM’. The second is from 1664 and declares ‘GOD SAVE THIS CHURCH AND REALM THE KING IN WAR, I.C.1664. Even the youngest of the three, featuring the names Ralph Low and Richard Grimley, is from 1670 meaning that the people of the parish and those who are passing by have heard these bells ring out for well over three hundred years. The fourth bell is even older still, although no one can agree on just how old. An article in the Lichfield Mercury in August 1936 described it as ‘England’s Oldest Bell’, and gives it a date of 1033. As it stands, the country’s oldest inscribed bell is believed to be the Gargate Bell at Caversfield Church, Oxfordshire, dating to c.1215AD and the country’s oldest dated bell (1245AD) is at Lisset Church in Easy Yorkshire. Therefore if this date of 1033AD were true, we would probably have a another Lichfield Entry in the Guiness Book of Records (to go alongside the largest curry ever, cooked by Abdul Salam of Eastern Eye on Bird St). Yet, the St Chad’s website itself casts doubt on this claim as there wasn’t a tower to put a bell in at the church at this time! Another date suggested for the bell is 1255 but the County History also disputes this and says that it was probably cast at Nottingham c.1500AD. There is an inscription on the bell +O BEATE MARIAA.A.R. and some numerals that no-one can read, hence the enigma. I’d love to see it. Not that I would be any help at all in solving the mystery but you know I’d just like to have a look at it. See I’m not satisfied with simply hearing it – there’s that visual dominance of history taking over again.

I have actually been at the other end of the bell rope. After I stumbled upon a practice session on another Saturday morning, I took up a kind offer to have a go at ringing one of the St Chad’s bells myself. Whilst at the time I was too terrified of having a campanology related mishap to fully appreciate the moment, afterwards I thought of all the people that had rung those bells in the past, and all those who had heard them and the message they were conveying. Next time, you’re passing, stop for a moment and listen too.

Sources:

Lichfield: Churches’, A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 14: Lichfield (1990), pp. 134-155

http://saintchads.weebly.com/the-bells.html