The stone commemorating the first meeting at Mow Cop with the ‘castle’ in the background.
Situated on the Staffordshire-Cheshire border, as noted in an earlier post the rocky hill of Mow Cop topped with its mock-ruined ‘castle’ folly, holds a special place in the religious history of the region and indeed the country. This dramatic spot was very much the birthplace of the Primitive Methodist movement that originated in North Staffordshire in the early part of the 19th century and the famous ‘castle’ came to stand as its unofficial symbol. The movement’s founders, two Potteries-born Wesleyan preachers, wheelwright Hugh Bourne and potter William Clowes, were initially simply hoping to restore a spirit of revivalism to mainstream Methodism. Inspired by tales of American camp meetings which they felt mirrored the outdoor preaching of John Wesley and the early Methodists, the men organised the first in a series of Camp Meetings at Mow Cop on 31 May, 1807, where people could gather to pray, sing and hear inspirational preachers.
The day did not seem too promising at first with some ominous clouds and rain, but this cleared away and by mid-morning the weather was fine and sizeable crowds of people were seen coming in from the Potteries, Congleton, Macclesfield and the Cheshire plain and even far off Warrington to experience and play their part in the evangelical camp meeting. One Captain Anderson raised a makeshift flag on the hill to attract the crowds, while piles of stones were erected to serve as pulpits around the hillside and there were no lack of preachers to use them. These in a wild variety of styles – exhortations, readings, recitals of their experiences, the telling of anecdotes and even off-the-cuff poetry – kept the crowds occupied and inspired many that day. Hugh Bourne in his account of the day mentioned an abundance of preachers and praying labourers of the Old Methodist Connection from Macclesfield and Congleton. From Tunstall there came many workers who stood up to preach and there were also several preachers of the Independant Methodists who added their voices to the throng. Notable amongst them, the aforementioned Captain Anderson told the story of his life in verse, from his youth as a shepherd lad, to his life as a sailor, and an anti-slavery and temperance advocate. He had been shipwrecked, captured by French soldiers and press-ganged before being converted to an ardent evangelist whilst in Liverpool. Another was an unnamed Irish preacher who told how he had been involved in the Irish Rebellion where he lost all of his worldly goods, but the experience led to his spiritual awakening. And ‘Peg-leg’ Eleazer Hathorn of Knutsford, recalled how he had been a Deist (a believer in a god who did not meddle in human affairs), an army officer and that he had lost a leg fighting the French in Africa; he was later converted by the preaching of American evangelist Lorenzo Dow, whose example had likewise inspired Bourne and Clowes to organise the camp meeting.
For most of the day, Mow Cop and the surrounding area was thick in people, but by six o’clock that evening, the crowds began to dwindle as folk started to drift away and make their long way back home and by this time only one preaching stand was needed for the die-hards and locals who remained. As this last gathering closed the day’s proceedings it was clear that the Camp Meeting had been a great triumph and had seemingly resulted in many converts to the Methodist cause but it would later figure large in a far more significant way, as out of the controversy that erupted in the wake this first gathering the Primitive Methodist Church eventually came into being.
L to R: Hugh Bourne and William Clowes, the founding fathers of Primitive Methodism.
Clearly the camp meeting filled a spiritual need that many felt lacking in mainstream religion, but despite this success it soon became clear that the Wesleyan Church frowned on the fervent brand of evangelism employed and refused to recognise these converts, while Bourne and Clowes were reprimanded for their actions. There was probably an element of snobbishness in the censure, as both Bourne and Clowes were uneducated working men and their brand of Methodism was decidedly working class in its following, many of Bourne’s and Clowes’s early converts being some of the roughest of working class men and women from in and around Mow Cop and the Potteries.
The popularity of the first Camp Meeting, though, led to a three-day event at Mow Cop two months later, followed by a third at Norton-in-the-Moors in August. Bourne and Clowes were again taken to task by the church hierarchy but refused to stop holding further open-air meetings, so both men were dismissed from the Methodist church. After failing to gain re-admittance in 1810 they took the step of splitting from mainstream Methodism, and in February 1812 in a meeting held at Tunstall, they took the name The Society of the Primitive Methodists; ‘Primitive’ here meant ‘simple’, reflecting their belief that they were practising a purer form of Methodism uncomplicated by dogma and more in keeping with its evangelical origins. From these humble beginnings the Primitive Methodists would grow into the second largest branch of the Methodist church with a wide following across Britain and branches in the United States and around the British Empire and they maintained their independence until the Methodist Union of 1932.
Because of its early association with the Camp Meetings, Mow Cop continued to be the spiritual home of Primitive Methodism during the life of the movement and beyond. Anniversary Camp Meetings were held there every year with special celebrations laid on for every 50th anniversary of the first gathering, in 1857, 1907 and 1957, all of which were attended by thousands of people. Today, a memorial stone stands part way down the hill from the castle commemorating the movement and its al fresco origins.
Reference: Arthur Wilkes and Joseph Lovatt, Mow Cop and the Camp Meeting Movement: Sketches of Primitive Methodism, (Leominster, c.1942) pp. 54-62.)
To the north of Stoke-on-Trent and standing smack on the Staffordshire-Cheshire Border, the hill of Mow Cop dominates the respective skylines of both counties and is also very much a natural demarcation point. To the south, the low rolling hills of North Staffordshire leading up to the hill seem to suddenly give way to the vast flat expanse of the Cheshire plain on its northern side. Nowhere is this better appreciated than from the highest point on the hill, where a circular stone tower, low wall and archway sit perched on a great prow of millstone grit rock, part of a jagged ridge of stones that appears to erupt from the surrounding greenery.
In truth the ruggedness of the hill owes as much to centuries of quarrying as to the vagaries of nature, while the apparently ancient ruin, known to one and all as Mow Cop Castle, is in fact South Cheshire’s and North Staffordshire’s most famous folly, dating back at best to the late 1740s. Though solid documentary evidence relating to the ‘castle’s’ construction seems to have vanished over time, it’s most likely that it was actually built as Medieval-style summerhouse paid for by the wealthy Wilbraham family of Rode Hall, Cheshire, who were perhaps keen to mark the edge of their lands and make use of the spot from which to admire the spectacular views of the two counties. Construction of the tower, archway and wall seems to have been carried out by a family named Harding whose descendants then became keyholders for the tower under the Wilbrahams. However, either the Wilbrahams or the Hardings had slipped up in constructing the tower where they did, as by straddling the border it infringed upon the Staffordshire estate of the Sneyd family of Keele Hall. There are confused scraps of folklore suggesting that this fact was know from the earliest times and that the Wilbrahams and Sneyds held joint ownership and access to the site, but again there is no conclusive evidence of this and arguments as to which family actually owned Mow Cop Castle would blight its early history and lead to litigation in the mid 19th century.
The tower today is nothing more than an empty stone shell, with bars on the windows and a grill over the doorway stopping anyone from getting inside, but when it was first constructed it was much more useful, comprising a lower and upper storey with a staircase, wooden floors, a roof, windows and a stout wooden door at its entrance. Keys to the door could be obtained at times from Rode Hall itself or – for the convenience of visitors – from a cottage near to the summer-house. Indeed, it appears that from very early in its history, the Wilbrahams were quite happy to let members of the public make use of the tower for their own recreations. As a result, the castle became a favourite picnic spot and playground for the locals and despite the competing claims over the years of families and landowners as to who owned what, the castle came to belong very much to the people of Mow Cop itself and their voices would be loud in determining its fate.
A memorial stone commemorating the first camp meeting held at Mow Cop in 1807.
Primitive Methodism
The hill and castle also hold a special place in the religious history of the region as Mow Cop was very much the spiritual home to the Primitive Methodist movement that originated in North Staffordshire in the early part of the 19th century and the castle its unofficial symbol. The movement’s founders, two Potteries-born Wesleyan preachers, Hugh Bourne and William Clowes, were hoping to restore a spirit of revivalism to mainstream Methodism. Inspired by tales of American camp meetings which they felt mirrored the outdoor preaching of John Wesley and the early Methodists, the men organised the first in a series of camp meetings at Mow Cop on May 31, 1807. This drew a sizeable crowd and resulted in many converts, but despite its success the Wesleyan Church frowned on the fervent brand of evangelism employed and refused to recognise these converts, while Bourne and Clowes were reprimanded for their actions. There was probably an element of snobbishness in the censure too, as both Bourne and Clowes were uneducated working men and their brand of Methodism was decidedly working class in its following, many of Bourne’s and Clowes’s early converts being some of the roughest of working class men and women from in and around Mow Cop and the Potteries.
As Bourne and Clowes refused to stop holding further open-air meetings, both men were dismissed from the church and after failing to gain re-admittance in 1810 they took the step of founding Primitive Methodism, and in February 1812 in a meeting held at Tunstall, they took the name The Society of the Primitive Methodists. From these humble beginnings the Primitive Methodists would grow into a considerable faction of the Methodist church with a wide following across Britain and branches in the United States and around the British Empire and maintained their independence until the Methodist Union of 1932.
Kings of the Castle
The Wilbrahams left Rode Hall for Lancashire in 1800 and though some repairs were made to the castle over the years, it suffered the ravages of time, neglect and petty vandalism. The floors and wooden fittings were pilfered or destroyed, the door was taken down and put into storage, while the Wilbrahams and Sneyds still debated their claims to the site. Matters came to a head in 1847 when the Wilbrahams refitted the old door to the tower and locked it, which effectively restricted access to the Sneyds and the public at large who had previously had free access to the structure. The next year the Sneyd family’s men broke into the tower which act resulted in a court case in 1850 that sought to establish who actually owned the castle. However, faced with a baffling array of contradictory evidence, the jury in the case returned the verdict that the Wilbrahams owned the castle but the Sneyds owned the land, which left them back at square one. The judge refused to accept this fudged verdict and instead pronounced a joint ownership and that henceforth both families should hold keys to the castle, joint responsibilities for its upkeep and with a few provisos both families had to maintain public access to the hill and castle.
However, probably as a result of this apportioning of responsibility the castle gradually fell into a state of complete neglect over the next half a century and by the beginning of the 20th century had effectively been reduced to the bare stone shell seen today. Only the locals seem to have continued to appreciate the castle and as was seen when the castle passed to its last private owner they rallied to its cause.
By the late 19th century most of the quarries that had dotted Mow Cop had closed down, however, in 1918 and 1922, a local businessman, Joseph Lovatt, bought up the competing land rights from the Wilbraham and Sneyd trustees and having cleared the debris from some of the old quarries near to the castle, he began fresh diggings for building material. Though he was himself a Methodist with an interest in preserving Mow Cop Castle (which he now owned) Lovatt’s actions raised fears amongst the locals that his quarrying might undermine or damage its foundations. Moreover, Lovatt fenced off the castle, which increased local ire at being excluded from their local beauty spot and they protested and eventually broke down the walls and fencing. This prompted a second court case to determine the future of the castle, the villagers arguing that they had common rights to use the castle and its environs. The case dragged on for three years and when it finally concluded the judge pronounced that the castle was not built on common land and that the rights of the locals were more a matter of accepted custom than a matter of law. Though the old custom carried some weight, the problem was that no one was sure exactly what their right of access to the castle entailed and the local authorities on either side of the county border had made no efforts to clarify these.
Lovatt may have won the case, but it had not done his reputation any favours and he soon determined to get this troublesome parcel of land off his hands as soon as possible. To this end in 1927, he offered it to the Bourne Trust, the successors to the Primitive Methodist movement, these being an obvious choice to pass the site on to. After careful consideration, though, the Trust determined that its upkeep was beyond their means and refused to take up Lovatt’s offer. So, in 1935, Lovatt offered the castle and six acres of land including the famous local stone pillar Old Man of Mow, to the National Trust. This was accepted and on 30 May 1937, the deeds were formally handed over at a grand ceremony attended by ten thousand people.
Since then the National Trust has maintained the structure pretty much in the state that they received it. Matters of ownership and public access are a thing of the past and though the castle itself is now closed for safety’s sake and to dissuade potential vandals, people can still visit and walk around the structure, while its hilltop vantage point with its impressive views across two counties is open to all.
Looking out over Staffordshire from Mow Cop
Reference: Philip R. Leese, Mow Cop: A Working Village (2010); Mow Cop: Living on the Hill (2011)
Pioneer balloonist Charles Green was quite a celebrity when he arrived in the Potteries in early October 1826. Five years earlier, Green had become famous almost overnight when he made a special ascent into the air in his coal gas filled balloon at George IV’s coronation. Since then he had become a professional balloonist, touring the country giving displays and allowing a lucky few to take a ride up with him. Now that thrill was open to the people in North Staffordshire and to one lucky passenger would fall the chance to make local history by joining Green in the first ever flight over the district.
The first ascent was to take place from Shelton late in the afternoon of Tuesday, 3 October 1826. ‘A vast concourse of persons’ had assembled according to a reporter for the Staffordshire Advertiser. A carnival atmosphere prevailed, a band had been arranged to keep the onlookers entertained and enclosures were set up for paying guests. The most exclusive of these for ‘the most respectable inhabitants’, was rather thinly populated at first, but started to fill up after 3 p.m., allaying fears that Green would not be fully compensated for his visit to the area. Another cheaper enclosure was also pretty well filled. Most of the locals, though, opted for a free view, an immense number of whom were camped out in surrounding fields, streets and yards, perched on roofs or leaning out of windows.
Charles Green in later life
The weather was cloudy but favourable despite a brief shower which dampened those waiting for the launch. Half an hour or so before the main event a small pilot balloon was released to check on the wind direction, Green then got to work preparing the large crimson and gold striped main balloon for its trip over the Potteries. There was at this point some anxiety as to who, if anyone, would accompany Green on his historic flight. Some days earlier a suitable companion had been selected, but who this was is a mystery as the man backed out shortly before the launch and it seemed very likely that Green may have to go up alone. Indeed, the celebrated balloonist had clambered into the basket or ‘car’ as it was then called and was making his final adjustments prior to lift off, when the band suddenly struck up the popular Irish melody ‘Fly not yet’ to get his attention. A last-minute replacement had been found, the Reverend Benjamin Vale, perpetual curate of Stoke-upon-Trent, had volunteered to go. A Londoner by birth, Vale was an abrasive character with a very chequered history, which would not improve during his long career in the Potteries, but whatever his other faults he did not lack for courage and after briefly justifying his decision with his anxious friends, to the applause of the onlookers, he eagerly stepped forward to join Mr Green for this first historic trip.
With the clergyman aboard, the balloon was allowed to rise into the air to a considerable height above the gathered crowd, ropes still holding it secure while it did so. Here, Mr Green released some ballast and dropped a parachute over the side attached to a basket that carried a cat, which floated safely back down to earth. After a short while suspended thus probably to give the crowd a good view of the ‘buoyant and splendid machine’, it was drawn back down to earth, two flags were handed over which were fixed at either end of the car, the ropes were released and with the band playing and crowd applauding the balloon rose gracefully into the air. To those on the ground the balloon remained in sight for about twenty minutes before vanishing into a cloud for ten minutes, then reappearing briefly in the distance as a dark-coloured ball. The rest of the journey was instead charted by Reverend Vale who subsequently wrote an account of the historic flight, which was printed in the Staffordshire Advertiser several days later.
Reverend Vale described how after being released, their balloon was blown off first to the north and east and that he continued to answer the cries from the ground for as long as he could. Once they were out of earshot, though, he instead occupied his time watching Green work the balloon, or he looked over the side. It is perhaps a measure of his crusty character that rather than expressing delight at the experience and what he saw, he instead began musing on why anyone would strive to possess what looked like so many mud heaps below them. He tried to spot the church that he hoped to obtain the curacy to, but it had already dwindled into the distance and he could see little save a sprawling mud-heap where Hanley stood and another where Lane End lay.
A mile up, after entering a thick yellow cloud that to Vale’s mind had a curious soapy feel to it, Charles Green opened the bottom of the balloon to give the gas inside room to expand and as Vale was interested in helping he allowed him to operate the valve when needed. Meanwhile, the balloon sailed over Blythe Bridge where a fresh current of air took hold and they moved towards Cellarhead, passing over Werrington windmill where they heard voices shouting up to them, but they were up too high to make out any figures on the ground.
Charles Green’s balloon
Whilst over Consul Woods they heard the sound of several guns being fired and got a good view of the country they were now passing over. The balloon was descending a little too rapidly for Mr Green’s liking, so ballast was dropped to slow the descent. Vale peered down once more, trying to make sense of the landscape below. Straight lines he realised were roads, while an odd mushroom was a haystack and what looked like a solitary bush was in fact a small wood. There were more cries from below and a curious humming noise could also be heard as a rain shower lashed the balloon above them. They crossed the Churnet and the canal near to Belmont House, spotting the reflection of the balloon in the water.
Another wood loomed and more ballast fell and the balloon rose up into a fresh contrary zephyr that sent it south between Ipstones and Kingsley. Here the two aeronauts heard a voice crying “Come down, come down.” Far below, a woman watching the balloon had called up and thought she heard the men calling back, “Yes, yes, mistress.” and she brought out some brandy ready to greet them and celebrate, but to her disappointment, the balloon passed on by.
After forty minutes in the air they were two miles up and getting cold and Mr Green decided to tie off the end of the balloon before attempting a landing. To achieve this he boldly stood up on the edge of the car, but even at full stretch he could not reach the fabric until Reverend Vale pulling down on a rope with all his might, dragged it to within Green’s grasp. As Green tied it off they distinctly heard the sound of a horn being blown followed by the clatter of carriage wheels, which indicated that a coach was rattling its way over the hills below them.
Mr Green was now on the lookout for a safe landing spot, which became more urgent as bad weather closed in. However, nothing but fields and dry stone walls appeared before them and as they slung the grapple over the side, the two men steeled themselves for the worst that might happen. Spotting a couple of men below they yelled for assistance, but flew overhead much too quickly and it was not until their anchor had snagged and demolished parts of two walls that more locals rushed over and grabbed hold of the balloon and they finally came safely to a stop in the middle of a field. Vale estimated that they had been in the air for about an hour and had travelled over at least 25 miles.
A couple of days later, after an early attempt had to be aborted due to high winds that made flying much too risky, Mr Green took a similar balloon trip over Newcastle, accompanied this time by a member of the Wedgwood family.
Reference: Staffordshire Advertiser 7 October 1826, p.4; J. H. Y. Briggs, ‘A Staffordshire Clergyman: The Reverend Dr Benjamin Vale, L.L.D. (1787-1863)’ in Staffordshire Studies (Keele, 1987) pp. 141-153.
Regular newspaper coverage of events in the Potteries only really started at the end of the 18th century with the advent in 1795 of the Staffordshire Advertiser paper, though as this was published in Stafford, it’s coverage of the goings on in the north of the county was limited to the most noteworthy events. Another half century would pass before more local newspapers were being produced in Hanley, Stoke and Burslem. However, histories, travellers’ journals and some other national or regional papers occasionally carried tales from the Potteries from this early period, giving us fleeting glimpses into life in the area. These range from descriptions of the growing pottery industry and the construction of the canals, to bizarre deaths, odd weather and local curios.
See a Fine Lady Upon a White Horse
Between 1697 and 1702, partly from a wish to improve her health and from an equally strong desire to see more of her native land, Lady Celia Fiennes (whom some claim was the fine lady at Banbury Cross from the children’s nursery rhyme) undertook a series of journeys around England. In the summer of 1698, her peregrinations brought her into North Staffordshire. Here, after admiring the as yet unsullied landscape, she was keen to visit the Elers Brothers’ factory at Bradwell, but as she notes in her diary she was unsuccessful; the potters had temporarily run out of clay and were not working.
‘..and then to Trentum, and passed by a great house of Mr Leveson Gore, and went on the side of a high hill below which the River Trent ran and turn’d its silver stream forward and backward into s’s which Looked very pleasant Circling about ye fine meadows in their flourishing tyme bedecked with hay almost Ripe and flowers. 6 mile more to NewCastle under Line.’
After ruminating briefly on the ‘coals to Newcastle’ adage, she continued.
‘… I went to this NewCastle in Staffordshire to see the makeing of ye fine tea potts. Cups and saucers of ye fine red Earth in imitation and as Curious as yt wch Comes from China, but was defeated in my design, they. Comeing to an End of their Clay they made use of for yt sort of ware, and therefore was remov’d to some other place where they were not settled at their work so Could not see it;’
(Reference: Celia Fiennes, Through England On a Side Saddle in the Time of William and Mary, pp.146-147.)
A Swedish Spy in the Valley of Crockery
A visitor to the mid-18th century Potteries was Reinhold Rücker Angerstein, an industrial spy in the employ of the Swedish government, who was tasked with gathering information on new or emerging technology. Between 1753 and 1755, he journeyed through England and Wales and produced a wide-ranging and comprehensive survey of the various industries and their practices. He appears to have visited the Staffordshire Potteries, which he labels rather colourfully as a ‘Valley of Crockery’, in about 1755. Here, after examining the manufacture of salt-glazed wares, describing the kilns in Hanley (including illustrations), the raw materials used, the prices of ware and various mechanisms employed in producing pottery (with still more pictures), he went on to add a few descriptions of the area that make for interesting reading.
He notes that in Hanley there were 430 makers of white ware and other types of pottery, adding ‘The kilns are everywhere in this district.’ and to prove his point he includes an illustration of the skyline of the town. There were also large numbers of potteries in Stoke and other places, ‘where mostly the same kind of ware as that enumerated is made and also some simpler crockery.’ He then adds a picturesque and slightly comical tale. ‘When as it sometimes happens, many kilns are glazing with salt at the same time, there is such a thick smoke of salt in these towns, that people in the streets cannot see 6 feet ahead, which, however does not cause any difficulties. On the contrary, the smoke is considered so healthy that people who are ill come here from far away to breathe it.’
Of the pottery itself, he writes, ‘The crockery produced is mainly sent to London or other sea ports, from which much of it is exported to America and many other foreign countries.’
(Reference: R. R. Angerstein’s Illustrated Travel Diary 1753-1755, pp. 340-342)
John Wesley preaching to a crowd
Pelted in the Potteries
On 8 March 1760, the Reverend John Wesley, the founding father of Methodism, visited Burslem for the first of many visits to the region. He described Burslem as ‘a scattered town, on the top of a hill, inhabited almost entirely by potters’, a large crowd of whom had gathered to hear him at five in the evening. He noted that great attention sat on every face, but also great ignorance which he hoped he could banish.
The next day Wesley preached a second sermon in Burslem to twice the number of the day before. ‘Some of these seemed quite innocent of thought. Five or six were laughing and talking till I had near done; and one of them threw a clod of earth, which struck me on the side of the head. But it neither disturbed me nor the congregation.’ –
(Reference: John Wesley, Journal, 8-9 March 1760)
The First Cut
After receiving the royal assent two months earlier for construction of a canal connecting the rivers Trent and Mersey, on the morning of 26 July 1766, at a site just below Brownhills, pottery manufacturer Josiah Wedgwood cut the first sod of what would in time become the Trent and Mersey canal. James Brindley, the engineer who would oversee the canal’s construction, and numerous other dignitaries were present, many of whom would also cut a piece of turf, or wheel away a barrow of earth to mark the occasion. In the afternoon a sheep was roasted in Burslem market place for the benefit of the poorer potters in the town. A bonfire was also lit in front of Wedgwood’s house and many other events took place around the Potteries by way of celebration.
(Reference: Jean Lindsay, The Trent and Mersey Canal, pp.31-32)
News from the North
Extract of a Letter from Burslem, 14 August 1766,
‘As you often give me London News, I will give you some from this Country, which has of late made a Figure. This Neighbourhood has for many Years made Pots for Europe, and will still do so, though the King of Prussia has lately clapt 28 per Cent, upon them. Our Roads were so bad that nobody came to view the Place where the Flint Ware is made, but now we have Turnpikes upon Turnpikes, and our Potteries are as well worth seeing as the Stockport Silk-Mills, or the Bridgewater Navigation, which we intend to beat hollow by Lord Gower’s, now begun in our Meadows, and advancing apace towards Harecastle, on the other Side of which Multitudes of Men are at work, and before Christmas we shall have cut through the Hill, and made another Wonder of the World. There are already 100 Men employed on our Side, and 100 more will be added as soon as Wheelbarrows can be procured for them. Saturday last we had brave Sport at Earl Gower’s, where 100,000 Spectators were present at the Prison-Bars played in Trentham Park. Among them were the Dukes of Bedford and Bridgewater. The Prizes were Ten Carline Hats, with gold Loops and Buttons, given by the Earl. The Cheshire Men were active Fellows, but unluckily their Lot was to wear Plod Drawers, to distinguish them from their Antagonists, which made the Crowd oppose their getting the Honour of the Day. During this Game, my Friend Bucknall loft his Boy, about Eight Years of Age, who was suffocated by going aslant down a Sort of a Cave into an old Coalpit, the top of which was fallen in. The Man that ventured to fetch him out, found a Number of Birds, supposed to have dropped down there by the sulphurous Stench issuing from the Pit. We have much Hay, and Cheese is plenty, and Corn without Barn-room, nor do we want Money.
P. S. I have just seen a Hen, which laid Twelve Eggs only, from which she has brought up Twelve Cock Chickens, which is looked upon as somewhat remarkable.’ –
(Reference: Derby Mercury, Friday 29 August 1766, p.2)
In Praise of Mr Brindley
Extract of a Letter from Burslem in Staffordshire. dated September 5.
“Though our Stone Ware has been universally used, yet till our Turnpikes were made few People ever saw our Manufactories. But now they are gazed at as a Novelty. The Ladies go to Warburton’s to buy the Queen’s Sets of Cream-coloured Ware; and the Gentle-men come to view our Eighth Wonder of the World, the subterraneous Navigation, which is cutting by the great Mr. Brindley, who handles Rocks as easily as you would Plumb-Pyes, and makes the four Elements subservient to his Will. He is as plain a looking Man as one of the Boors of the Peak, or one of his own Carters; but when he speaks all Ears listen, and every Mind is filled with Wonder at the Things he pronounces to be practicable. He has cut a Mile through Bogs, which he binds up, embanking them with the Stones which he gets out of the other Parts of the Navigation, besides about a Quarter of a Mile into the Hill Yeldon; on the Side of which he has a Pump, which is worked by Water, and a Stove, the Fire of which sucks through a Pipe the Damps that would annoy the Men, who are cutting towards the Centre of the Hill. The Clay he cuts out, serves for Brick to arch the subterraneous Part, which we heartily wish to see finished to Wilden Ferry, when we shall be able to send Coals and Pots to London, and to different Parts of the Globe.— Another Mile is cut on the Cheshire Side of the Hill, and the Men intend to meet in the Middle by Christmas, when they are to have an Ox roasted whole, and an Hogshead of Ale.”
(Reference: Derby Mercury – Friday 18 September 1767, p.2)
Tunnel Vision
On 1 July 1772, an anonymous correspondent writing from Burslem related what he had seen the day before when he and some companions paid a visit to the first incarnation of the Harecastle Tunnel, situated between Tunstall and Kidsgrove and then under construction as part of James Brindley’s Trent and Mersey Canal.
‘Yesterday we took a walk to the famous subterraneous canal at Harecastle, which is now opened for a mile on one side of the hill, and more than half a mile on the other, of course the whole must be compleated in a short time. As it is not yet filled with water, we entered into it, one of the party repeating the beautiful lines in Virgil, which describe the descent of Æneas into the Elysian fields. On a sudden our ears were struck with the most melodious sounds. – Lest you should imagine us to have heard the genius or goddess of the mountain singing the praises of engineer Brindly, it may be necessary to inform you, that one of the company had advanced some hundred paces before, and there favoured us with some excellent airs on the German flute. You can scarcely conceive the charming effect of this music echoed and re-echoed along a cavern near two thousand yards in length.’
(Reference: Leeds Intelligencer, Tuesday 14 July 1772, p.3)
A Fungi to Be With
No age is free of stories of novelty fruit, veg or mushrooms:
‘A few days ago, a mushroom was got at Stoke-upon-Trent, in the county of Stafford, whose diameter was 5 inches, and 30 inches in circumference, it weighed 16 ounces. The above is very authentic.’
(Reference: Leeds Intelligencer, 5 September 1775, p.3)
All in a Spin
In 1781, there was the story of a curious weather phenomenon, a whirlwind or perhaps a mini tornado:
‘The following extraordinary phenomenon was lately observed here; at the latter end of last month, a field of hay belonging to Mr. J. Clark, near Burslem, was carried off by a whirlwind; the day when it happened was exceedingly calm, scarce a breath of air to be perceived. The people who were at work in the field observed, that in one part the hay began to be agitated in a small circle, at every wheel it increased in size and velocity, continually sucking more hay into its vortex; after a considerable time it began to ascend, taking along with it a silk handkerchief which hung rather loosely about the neck of one of the men who was at work; it continued ascending till entirely out sight, and in about an hour it began to descend, and continued to so for an hour’s space, alighting at, or within a few hundred yards of the place from whence it had been carried up, so that the owner lost but a very trifling quantity of his hay.’
(Reference: Hereford Journal, 23 August 1781, p.2)
A Tragic Accident
The following melancholy tale from the Potteries is related in a letter dated August 14 1785.
‘As Ellen Hulme, a poor woman of Lane End, was returning to her habitation late last night, with her infant, six weeks old, in her arm, she unfortunately stepped into a coal-pit, which shamefully lay open close to the road, and even with the track which led to the poor creature’s house. Her husband, whom she had been to fetch from an alehouse, immediately alarmed the neighbourhood, when her distressing cries were very distinctly heard from the bottom of the dreary pit every effort was attempted by the hardy colliers to fetch her up, but the damp prevailing very much, obliged them to use means to extract it, after which was found the mother with her infant upon her arms, both dead.’
(Reference: Sussex Advertiser, 22 August 1785, p.3)
A Hard Winter
During the harsh winter of 1794-1795, the better off inhabitants of Hanley and Shelton formed a committee which started a subscription list for the temporary relief the poor who were suffering great hardship during the cold weather. By February 1795 the committee had collected an impressive £150, enough to enable them to supply nearly 500 local families with meat, potatoes, and cheese. The Wedgwood family gave a liberal amount and through them a Mrs Crewe kindly added a welcome donation of a quantity of flannel clothing. The Marquis of Stafford aided the relief fund by ordering 100 tons of coal to be at the distribution of the committee.
A month later, in an issue of the Staffordshire Advertiser that noted that thermometers in Macclesfield had measured temperatures as low as -21° F (-29.4° C), the fearsome nature of the winter was highlighted dramatically by one small but rather macabre snippet of news: ‘Through the inclemency of the night of Saturday last [i.e.,14 March] a poor man perished betwixt Hanley and Bucknall. He unfortunately lost himself in attempting to cross the fields, and was found on Sunday standing upright in a snow drift, with his hand only above the surface.’
(Reference: Staffordshire Advertiser, 7 February 1795, p.3; 21 March 1795, p.3.)
Dashed to Pieces
‘A melancholy accident happened on Wednesday last at a coal-pit near Lane Delph, in the Pottery. A poor woman employed in drawing up the coal, was by some accident unfortunately thrown into the pit, and was literally dashed to pieces.’
(Reference: Derby Mercury, 30 June 1796, p.4).
Wild Fire
In late March or early April 1799, a dreadful accident happened in a pit at Lane End, the property of John Smith, Esq. Four men were blown up, and two them terribly burnt by what the colliers of the time described as ‘the wild fire’. The explosion was loud, and the concussion so great that nearby houses shook violently. Two of the men were not expected to recover, while the other two were thrown to a considerable distance, and left badly bruised. The reporter noted that their hats were blown to the distance of 70 yards from the mouth of the pit.
(Reference: Staffordshire Advertiser, Saturday, 6 April 1799, p.4)
The oldest profession in the world had its place in soft underbelly of the Regency Potteries. Prostitutes plied a regular trade usually around the local inns where there were rich pickings when the potters and miners rolled in with their wages. A brief memoir of the period reveals that then as now many of the local working girls were ordinary women driven to extremes by circumstances, the probable cause being abject poverty. A Short Memoir of Ann Sheldon, published in 1821, tells the story of the short life of a dedicated Burslem Sunday School teacher. Constructed around entries in Ann’s diary, it reveals her to have been a noble spirited young woman, who saw it as her Christian duty to visit the sick and try to save the fallen.
Burslem town centre in the early 19th century.
In April 1813 following a class, one of her class members asked Ann if she would visit a woman who was very ill. Accompanied by a fellow teacher ‘Miss B’, she went to see the woman whom she soon discovered to be a local prostitute. They found her to be, ‘a little better and very penitent.’ Ann continued : ‘she had been a very wicked woman for years, and is now little more than 30 years of age. Her parents died when she and her sister were young. As they advanced in years they got into bad company and lost their character. Masters would not employ them and they became common prostitutes.’ The woman, exhausted and frightened by her illness, told the two teachers that if she lived she was determined to leave her ‘wicked course of life.’
After praying together they left her. The two young teachers had obviously been shocked by the interview and though the nature of the woman’s illness is never stated, the impression we are left with is that it was contracted as a result of her calling. Both came away from the house burning with a desire to save others from such a dangerous and degrading career.
The next day, Ann and Miss B set out once more and found a woman to direct them to the ‘houses of ill fame’. They visited two buildings, but met with a mixed reception, made all the more galling no doubt, by the fact that at least two of the girls they encountered were old Sunday school scholars.
In the first house ‘we found a young woman about seventeen years of age, who lived by herself, and was three years ago a Sunday scholar.’ The girl was unmoved by the teachers’ entreaties, Ann went back many times to invite her back to the school, but to no avail.
There were two women in the other house: ‘we found a woman about twenty-seven years of age; who met in class about two years ago: we both spoke as close as possible for an hour and a half; they shed many tears and confessed they had a hell upon earth. There was another woman present, a companion in sin, who appeared to take no notice: – I said to her come down on your knees, and cry to the Lord, to have mercy upon your soul, before it is too late: we all bowed the knee before God, and found much liberty in prayer.’
It is unknown whether Ann and Miss B efforts were successful. The biography remains silent on the matter. Ann herself died at a young age in 1819.
Reference: John Tregortha (publisher) A Short Memoir of Ann Sheldon, Burslem 1821
