Haddon Hall – A Sleeping Tudor Beauty
by Brian Spencer “What we see today is basically the unaltered fortified manor house developed between the late 12th century, and 1620 when the last and minor ‘improvements’ were made” One autumn evening a few decades ago, driving home along the A6, just short of the entrance to Haddon Hall I was stopped by a police barrier, complete with bollards and flashing blue lights. Unable to see any problems ahead or behind, I sat there and waited for developments. The answer soon became clear when a large black car drove quickly past and turned left into the hall’s entrance. As the car overtook me, I got a glimpse of its passenger, the then young Prince Charles, the Prince of Wales. Apparently, he and his sister Princess Anne used the castle when visiting Derbyshire and needing overnight accommodation they slept amidst Tudor grandeur! Their signatures together with that of their grandfather HRH King George V, are etched in the plaster above a small fireplace in the Earl’s Apartment. That their visit must be a privilege no one could deny, but who would turn down the chance of staying in this romantic relic of time gone by. What we see today is basically the unaltered fortified manor house developed between the late 12th century, and 1620 when the last and minor ‘improvements’ were made. Throughout that time Haddon Hall was owned by only three families, the Avenels, the Vernons and the Manners. It was the Avenels from Northamptonshire who built the original house, and it was lived in permanently until the Manners more or less abandoned it when Sir John Manners, 9th Earl of Rutland was created the 1st Duke of Rutland in the early eighteenth century, and the family moved to the much grander Belvoir Castle, leaving Haddon Hall suspended in time. Before that time, Haddon had been owned by the Vernons for ten generations between 1262 and 1514 with Sir George Vernon’s legendary parties which could last for weeks, earning him the title of ‘King of the Peak’. His daughter Dorothy Vernon became the best known female family member. When she eloped with Sir John Manners by crossing the pack horse bridge below the house, her escapade laid the foundations of another legend; romantic though it may be, the trouble with it is that the bridge did not exist at that time. However, one way or another, she did marry Sir John Manners, and so the Manners dynasty are still the owners of Haddon. For almost three centuries Haddon Hall remained empty and almost but not quite unloved until the 10th Duke opened the house to visitors. Little is known about the origins of Haddon, but there seems to have been a small manor house based on Saxon foundations either on the site of the present building, or nearby. The estate on which it stood stretched almost as far as Sheffield. Together with farming and lead mining, from entries in the Domesday Book of 1086 it sounds as though whoever owned the estate became very rich. The Avenels acquired the property in the 12th century, originally being tenants of William Peverel, one of King William the Conqueror’s knights. How they managed to expand these interests can only be guessed, but we can assume that their wealth grew by hard work and perhaps more than a little grovelling at the feet of their lord and master, William Peverel. What we do know is that the first mention of a house and chapel stood on the site and were thought to have been built around the mid-1100s. This was when it was mentioned in the marriage settlement of Avice Avenel, William Avenel’s eldest daughter, to Richard de Vernon in 1189. Haddon remained with the Vernon family until it passed to the Manners when Dorothy Vernon married Sir John Manners in 1567, with whose family it has remained ever since. Visitors entering the Haddon estate walk in through the gatehouse away from the car park on the opposite side of the main road. Beyond the gatehouse, the gravelled drive winds its way, over the beautiful River Wye before dividing in front of the excellent café and tea rooms. The hall sits high above to the right, on an imposing limestone outcrop. Built from local stone Haddon looks just like the setting for a Sleeping Beauty pantomime. A weathered oak door opens directly on to the gritstone flagged surface of the lower courtyard and in its right hand, south-east corner, the Tudor chapel projects like a bastion on an impregnable fortress wall. Fading yet still vibrant frescoes line the chapel walls and a jumble of box pews fill what little space the tiny nave can provide. To one side is the poignant stone effigy of a young boy, nine year old Lord Robert Charles Manners, known as Lord Haddon. This one is the copy of the sculpture now in the chapel at Belvoir Castle and was carved in 1894 by his grief-stricken mother. If Lord Haddon had lived, he was destined to become the 9th Duke of Rutland. The sloping gritstone slabbed yard is surrounded by a complex of mysterious doorways and time worn steps. The first door on the left of the entrance door gives access to a small room where many of the odds and ends found when it became necessary to lift centuries old floors during maintenance work are displayed. The museum is full of everyday items ranging from a remarkably well-preserved shoe, to a still readable child’s prayer-book. There are even accounts of worker’s wages, such as what a skilled craftsman was paid for three day’s thatching. Steps on the north-east side of the courtyard lead, on the left, to the kitchens, where the banquets prepared for the enjoyment of Sir George Vernon earned him the title, ‘King of the Peak’. We can imagine him and his guests warming themselves before a roaring log fire in the nearby Banqueting Hall. These feasts were legendary, especially when
Win Tickets to Autosport International
00
Great Northern Railway and The Bennerley Viaduct – by Brian Spencer
The first time I came across the Bennerley Viaduct was one foggy November day, a few years back. We were following the twists and turns of the Nottingham Canal along the Erewash Valley and decided to swap sides and cross the valley in order to reach the Erewash Canal on our way back to Ilkeston. The word ‘Viaduct’ on the Ordnance Survey map seemed to offer a high level way, over the river and the branch linking the London to Sheffield lines via Derby and Nottingham, in order to join the Erewash Canal near the Bridge Inn at Cotmanhay. Suddenly, out of the mist there appeared what can only be described as a piece of a giant’s Meccano modelling. This was the latticework of the Bennerley Viaduct, then but wonder of wonders, not now, a way across the Erewash Valley. In order to reach a suitable valley crossing, we had to follow the remains of the Nottingham Canal tow-path all the way to Shipley Gate where a short length of boggy path took us across the valley and link up with the Erewash Canal tow-path. Since our abortive attempt to cross the viaduct, teams of dedicated volunteers have restored the viaduct’s track-bed, created access links to the canals at either end, making a delightful high level footpath, cycleway for all to enjoy. Sweeping curves of the access paths on either side of the valley, make it an easy way for disabled explorers to enjoy the delights of this one-time industrial valley where nature again holds say. The viaduct and the ornate cast-iron bridge over Derby’s Friargate Bridge over the Ashbourne road, are the only links with a railway that appears to have been built with no thought to cost. They and other bridges carried what was known as the Great Northern Railway. The line was created in 1879 in order to join rail services both east and west, linking Grantham on the east coast main line, to Stafford in the west. The line made a huge loop, going north, then west, away from Nottingham; very little is left of this section as housing is now built over much of its city-length, or some now enjoys a new life as a tram-track. When the Great Northern reached the boggy width of the Erewash valley, it had to span two canals, the river and also the route of the Nottingham section of the Erewash Line from Nottingham to Sheffield. Designed by the Richard Johnson, Civil Engineer to the Great Northern Railway, with Samuel Abbot acting as resident engineer. Rather than build a conventional structure of building in bricks and stone, it was decided that the viaduct would be made from wrought iron. This would create a latticework structure of girders, each spanning 76feet in order to support the locomotive deck. Each supporting upright would rise from low brick pillars capped with gritstone topping. Running from Awsworth in the east to Ilkeston above the river’s western bank, it created a unique structure, one of the first metal railway bridges in the world. Three additional skewed spars at the Ilkeston end carried the line over the Erewash Canal, then onwards by conventional tracks, through Ilkeston and onwards to Derby and Stafford. Bennerley Viaduct was opened in 1877 and was in use until the Beeching ‘Axe’ dictated its closure. Unusually for lines suffering closure, the Great Northern’s goods carrying trade was the first to be abandoned, on 7th September 1964. Passenger services continued until they were also abandoned almost three years later on 4th September 1967. During its lifetime, the Great Northern Railway carried both passengers and goods, mainly coal from mines throughout the region. Scores of short branch lines snaked across the north Midlands, carrying coal to fuel Britain’s Industrial Revolution. Life got a bit exciting during a zeppelin raid in the Great War when a flotilla of the inflated sausages attacked Nottingham. Small bombs were dropped all around the marshalling yards near Awsworth, but no lasting damage was done. One of the attackers ran out of fuel on its way back to Germany and drifted over to Norway where it went aground on rocks off a tiny island in the south-west of Norway. Luckily no one was harmed either on the ground in the Nottinghamshire countryside, or members of the crew of the zeppelin. BENNERLEY VIADUCT, A LISTED BUILDING IN NEED OF PRESERVATION With the closure of this two-star, listed build in need of protection, when Bennerley Viaduct finally closed in 1967, caring voices began to be raised, with ideas floating to and fro about what could be done. Several organisations stepped forward with ideas and early plans for the future. The first was called Railway Paths Ltd, an organisation as the name suggests, dedicated to preserving paths and access surrounding rural lines. Their idea was to use Bennerley Viaduct as a link between paths surrounding the Nottingham and Erewash Canals in between. Unfortunately for them, railway bureaucracy came along in the shape of Sustrans, the national railway maintenance company who scotched any idea of a voluntary organisation taking over responsibility for the viaduct. Fortunately the parlous state of the country’s economy unexpectedly came to the aid of those keen to save Bennerley Viaduct when Sustrans so to speak, threw in the towel, allowing voluntary organisations to take over and commence restoration work. Another voluntary organisation, Friends of Bennerley Viaduct came forward, offering to work alongside Railway Paths Ltd. Sustrans one must feel was only too pleased to be rid of this massive problem and willingly sold the viaduct at a peppercorn price. As joint owners, the two sets of volunteers could then settle down to the real job of restoring this historic addition to the local heritage. Armed with a grant of £40,000 from the National Lottery Fund restoration work and the construction of access paths began at an amazing speed, and in a matter of months the tow-paths of Erewash and Nottingham Canals were linked, making opportunities’
The Peak District Mining Museum
The easing of lockdown made it possible for museums at least to partially re-open, and the Peak District Mining Museum in Matlock Bath’s Grand Pavilion was quick to take advantage of it. With its easy access, visitors can explore the story of lead mining in the Peak District. Everything is open except the popular children’s climbing shafts, which cannot be reopened in case the dreaded Corvid-19 virus lurks in dark recesses. Otherwise everything, including the popular Temple Mine is open to carefully spaced visitors. Lead mining is the Peak’s oldest industry, it began in pre-Roman times, in fact it was the acquisition of lead for their plumbing and roofing needs that first attracted Roman conquerors to Derbyshire. Apart from a handful of sites, lead mining was very much a two-men and a dog sort of industry. A glance at the Ordnance Survey map of the White Peak shows literally scores of sites marked as Mine (disused), or simply shown as mounds dotted across open fields. The place name Bole Hill is another frequently mentioned link with a long-gone industry. Usually on or near a hilltop, it indicates that a bole, or crude smelter was once nearby. Boles were small affairs, simply a three-sided stone fireplace facing the prevailing wind. It was here that a charcoal fire melted lead ore which was then run off into moulds, creating the traditional ‘pigs’, or ingots of useful lead. It took an age to produce a fother (ton) of lead and another thousand years or so to make any improvements. This came about in the mid eighteenth century with the invention of reverberatory or Cupola smelters. Rather than mix fuel with ore, the new system relied on intense heat bounced off furnace walls, producing greater amounts of refined lead. One of them can still be explored; it surrounds the square chimney standing on high ground at Spitewinter between the Matlock/Chesterfield and Darley/Dale Chesterfield roads. Once inside the museum, the first exhibit is a lifelike miner and his truck of ore. Behind him, but currently out of bounds is the entrance to one of the climbing shafts. These realistic effects run between the ground and first floor of the museum, making a perfect adventure playground post Coronavirus. A word of warning though to any well-padded adult, don’t try climbing while wearing bulky clothes like I once did. Reaching daylight at the top, I managed to get well and truly stuck. All I could see was a large pair of shoes at floor level topped by a bulky male. Looking down at me, he grinned and said; ‘Another daft b—– like me, give us your hand’. A quick yank and I was out, and I’ve never tried it again, but the grandchildren loved to disappear into the gloomy recesses. Set pieces like the miner figures made from plastic tubes are shown amongst the tools of their trade, such as the ‘whisket’, a simple basket which held their day’s delving below ground. Don’t try to pick up the massive lump of lead ore as it weighs over half a ton. There cannot have been many similar lumps brought out of Peakland mines, most of the daily production was at best, made up of pieces the size of a man’s fist, or smaller. It had to be dressed (broken up), usually by miners’ wives and washed in the river to remove as many impurities as possible. Water below ground and removing it was always a problem. The most efficient way was by a drain, or ‘sough’ (pronounced ‘suff’), if the mine was above the level of a convenient river, but this was a rare event. The alternative was by a mechanical pump, or the cruder rag pump like the one on display. Another popular children’s exhibit, it is an endless chain of rag-filled links which, when turned by a handle, mops up water and brings it to the surface. A clanking and grinding sound usually indicates that some child (or adult for that matter), is enjoying the task, but imagine spending all day turning the heavy handle. A more efficient system stands opposite the rag pump. Basically a vertical pipe a little over a foot in diameter festooned with all manner of valves and mysterious pipes, it came out of Wills’ Founder Mine at Winster where it had done yeoman service for the best part of a century. The work of dismantling it underground and then rebuilding it in the museum, was done by volunteer members of the Peak District Historic Mining Society. Photographs, each telling a story are dotted around the museum and range from a poignant shot of Charles Henry Millington (1878-1968), the Peak District’s last working lead miner, to historical shots of now long abandoned mines. On display are fascinating models of mechanical pumps and surface views of mines such as Magpie Mine near Sheldon, or horse-drawn stone crushing circles, the remains of which can still be found half hidden in bracken dotted around the local countryside. Attractive displays of stone collections show just how colourful many of the ores buried deep beneath the ground can be. Temple Mine is an abandoned drift mine running directly into the limestone hillside a little way beyond the entrance to Gulliver’s Kingdom. It was last used to mine fluor spa (calcium fluoride a source of the fluoride in tooth paste). We were lucky to find a family of four there, taking advantage of their museum entrance fees. They had just spent part of the previous hour on a guided tour exploring the mine’s inner nooks and crannies and were finishing off their visit with a spell of panning for gold. There really is gold in them thar hills, but it is of the fool’s variety – iron pyrites, (iron sulphide FeS2). Currently the Peak District Mining Museum is open Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday from 11:00 a.m, until further notice. Please wear face masks and keep a couple of metres away from other visitors. 00
The Lost Houses of Derbyshire – Temple House, Derby
If you go up Mill Hill Lane today, you might come away with the impression that Temple House is the house facing you end-wise as you link round towards the top of Renals Street. That, however, would be a mistake encouraged by the fact that the building in question, a brick villa of some size, is the Temple Clinic. In fact, this building was put up to the designs of architects Giles & Brookhouse in 1867 and then rebuilt by Edward Fryer (1852-1883) in 1882 as the vicarage of St. Chad’s church, further along in St. Chad’s Road. Even then, it was smaller than it is now, for it underwent a further enlargement (by about a third) in the 1980s at the hands of the Council, the job being done with amazing tact in matching style: red brick, sparing stone dressings, sashes with glazing bars, dog-tooth cornicing and so on. In fact that villa was built as a dower house for the owner of much larger Temple House, which nestled amongst the bocage on the slope to its right, half way between Mill Hill Lane and Burton Road. It was sold off for adaptation as a vicarage in 1881. Temple House itself, demolished in 1959, was built about 1825 for Joseph Woollatt (or Willott) nephew of William Woollatt, Jedediah Strutt’s original partner in his cotton spinning business. It was situated on a steeply sloping piece of land which descended to the Burton Road, and which had been part of the pleasure grounds of Mill Hill House, the residence of banker Thomas Swinburne but, being rather steep and north facing, was sold to Swinburne’s fellow banker Samuel Richardson (1741-1823) about 1816. He landscaped the plot and had ‘a very handsome summerhouse built’ which he called The Prospect. This was situated near the top of the slope, just below what is now Mill Hill Lane and which was then a footpath, with a circular walk embowered by trees. Richardson died in 1823 when his family sold the plot, along with surrounding land to the south, to Joseph Woollatt. Woollatt’s new house, which essentially replaced the summer house, was (naturally) called Prospect House, and not without reason, for anyone who has travelled up Mill Hill Lane will tell you that, where one can see northwards between the later houses, there are magnificent views to be had right across Derby to Drum Hill by Little Eaton. The house Joseph Woollatt built was a rectangular villa of Keuper sandstone ashlar blocks, situated towards the top of the slope on the south side of Burton Road. The house had main fronts facing NW and NE (due to the vagaries of the site). There were three storeys under a hipped slate roof supported upon a cornice and moulded entablature, there having been three widely spaced bays on each main front. The windows were protected by sliding cast iron jalousies those on the Burton Road (NW) side with moulded entablatures above. The angles were embellished with giant Doric pilasters. The entrance front faced Mill Hill Lane, and boasted a Doric portico, although a secondary approach was via a steeply inclined path from a lodge house on the Burton Road, more or less opposite the junction with Abbey Street which still survives, although today sealed off and very overgrown. This led to the other show front of the house, the entrance on this side being via a door set under a broken pediment in a canted ground floor bay, the top providing a balcony for the bedroom above and being protected by an attractive cast iron balustrade. There was a service wing to the west forming a court yard, and a conservatory. The plainer elevations of the house were very close in style to those of The Field, Osmaston Road, a villa which was described in Country Images in September 2014, which rather suggests that the architect was probably the ubiquitous and versatile Richard Leaper: alderman and serial Mayor of Derby, banker, collector of customs for the Borough and prolific amateur architect. This supposition is strengthened when we realise that he was also the architect of Mill Hill House (built c. 1812) and also of Corndean Hall. The ground floor windows on the two main fronts were sashes extended to terrace level, and in deed on the Burton Road side, the gardens were impressively terraced the house platform descending sharply to a semi-circular terrace below, a feature which began to give trouble post World war Two, as they began to slip partly due to lack of maintenance and partly due to the widening of Burton Road undercutting the bank. Much of the Swinburne’s landscaping was, however, retained. Joseph Woollatt died in about 1830 and his widow, Harriett, married Joseph Bailey, a landowner at Allestree and Breadsall and a wholesale grocer. It was a second marriage for Bailey, too, for he brought with him a teenage son John who took over the business in the 1840s when his father died. The estate that came with the house lay mainly to the south, and seems to have extended to about 60 acres, cheek-by-jowl with that of another lost house (of which a photograph has yet to emerge), Mount Carmel. Bailey was a councillor, chairman of the bench and a keen member of the Freemasonic Tyrian Lodge in Derby. Unfortunately, neither he nor his wife, Hannah had issue, and after she died in the 1870s, he decided to release about half the estate to build badly-needed houses, thus creating a block of streets south of Mill Hill Lane, by this time a fully metalled road: Bailey Street, Mill Hill Road, Western Road and Temple Street, all pitched 1875-1878; in 1881 there were 3,000 people living on what had been Bailey’s estate! Temple Street, of course, took its name from the Temple of Jerusalem, after which Bailey’s house had been re-named when he inherited it, thanks to his keenness for the arcana of freemasonry. The name remained with it for the remainder
The Dahlias of Biddulph Grange Garden
A little way beyond the northern limits of the Potteries, just off the Congleton road, Biddulph Grange Garden is one of those places where each season has something to offer. It is this special changing of interest and variation of plants looking their best which draws us back, time after time. This year our visit coincided with the dahlias at their flamboyant best, but while admiring them we discovered a hidden secret in the history surrounding their position in this unique garden. Biddulph Grange Garden was created in 27years from 1842-1868 by James Bateman, a local businessman and his wife Maria, together with Edward Cooke, a marine artist friend. The garden was dug out of the side of a valley that flows down to the River Trent and by constructing ‘compartments’, microclimates were created to make homes for the trees and shrubs collected by famous plant explorers commissioned by Bateman. With differing areas created by the microclimates, the garden was divided into small, inter-connected zones, some warm, others damp and cool and sometimes almost shadeless. Each ‘compartment’ became home for magnificent trees, shrubs like rhododendrons, azaleas and ferns as they settled into a copy of their original environments. In this way it is possible to walk from country to country without travelling more than say, half a mile. Within the space of a few yards inter-connected rocky paths lead from Italy, to Asia, then onwards to a Scottish glen. Beyond a rocky tunnel the garden explorer will find themselves inside the tranquillity of a Chinese temple complete with tinkling bells and a bamboo shaded pond full of golden carp; a Willow Pattern bridge completes the effect of being on the other side of the world. Passing beneath the gaze of a magnificently gilded buffalo, the path climbs past a short section of the ‘Great Wall of China’, by way of a ‘stumpery’, inverted trees roots, to arrive at a half-timbered Cheshire cottage. Beyond the ‘cottage’ Egypt is described from the imagination of some Victorian sculptor who, it must be said had obviously never been to that ancient country. Round the corner from the rather strange reproductions of the sphynx and the ape god, Thoth, is the long double-sided avenue lined with Deodar Cedars, backed by Red Horse Chestnuts. Although still known by its original title of the Wellingtonia Avenue, there are no specimens of this most ancient of trees. They were removed by Robert Heath, a later owner of Biddulph Grange who possibly could not wait until the Giant Sequoias, Californian Redwoods, mature in 3,500 years. The beds where the dahlias we had come to see are grown, disappeared beneath a mountain of rubble during a less prosperous time for the garden. Throughout its life, Biddulph Grange and its garden has had several owners, many of whom could not afford, or be interested in its upkeep. Almost from the start, Bateman almost bankrupted himself with the cost of developing such an imaginative project. Other owners did not have quite the drive or interest as he had and to cap it all, the house was almost totally destroyed by fire in 1896. With the passing of time, two wars and sundry recessions, Biddulph Grange Garden became a vandalised wilderness. In 1923 the house was turned into a cottage hospital, then in the 1960s the NHS took over the hospital, but with the inevitable demands on finance the NHS could only afford to pay one gardener to care for the 15acre garden. Vandalism and neglect took its toll and it was at this time that the Dahlia Walk as it is called, was filled to the brim with rubble from building work on the hospital. What had been one of James Bateman’s pride and joys simply disappeared. When the National Trust took over the garden in April 1988, it embarked on its most ambitious restoration project: to return Biddulph to the glory of its Victorian heyday. Fortunately the garden despite its neglect was resilient and over the intervening years James and Maria’s vision came back to life. One of the major projects was to open up the Dahlia Walk, rediscovered in 1988, and this meant removing the tons of rubble and junk dumped there by builders. Beds making up the ‘Walk’ follow a gentle slope rising to the east towards the vantage point of the Shelter House. A series of neatly clipped yew hedges create small interlinking beds, each filled with what is possibly the most exotic plant to flower in British gardens. Dahlias similar to now extinct cultivars that were popular in Victorian times, together with herbaceous plants of which Mrs Bateman was especially fond make a pleasing spectacle in late summer, almost until the first frosts. Tight-headed pompoms vie with flamboyant larger flowered varieties, all in the brightest of colours bring the ‘Walk’ to life. This would surely have met with the Bateman’s approval, especially if the stroll leads up to the Shelter House, another result of the National Trust’s successful knack of restoring something for which only plans and old photographs remain. When the dahlias finish in autumn, the garden has one last explosion of colour as leaves on the deciduous trees turn to different shades of reds and yellow. 00
The Lost Houses of Derbyshire – Romeley Hall, Clowne
At Romeley, one gets two lost houses for the price of one. The early history of Romeley (or Romiley) in the extreme SW of the parish of Clowne, but often erroneously listed under Barlborough, is obscure to say the least, but the first we hear of a capatial mansion there is in 1455 when one on site was in the possession of Stephen atte Wode, (Wood), a member of the same Eckington family whose name later mutated into Sitwell, as of Renishaw. A descendant, William Wood sold the estate in 1604 to William Routhe of Birley and Waleswood (now Wales) both just over the county line in Yorkshire. They seem to have rebuilt the house in coursed rubble of High Hazels Coal, quarried locally, of which the main surviving doorcase is carved from a single block. Unfortunately, this house was abandoned towards the end of the nineteenth century, having been described as an ‘ancient farm house’ since the mid-18th century, in favour of a new house built contiguously, of which more anon. No illustration of the old house survives, but the L-shaped surviving portion has two storeys over a high basement, suggesting a house of some pretension, the more so for Thomas Bulmer in 1895 recorded a lost first floor long gallery of some sixty feet, a four yard (12 foot) square rannel balk and chimney and a kitchen fireplace boasting a twelve foot wide cambered bressumer, the latter still in situ (or was when Mick Stanley and I visited in 1980). The house under consideration today, however, is its successor, Romeley House, occasionally and confusingly also called Romeley Hall. This was built by Thomas Wright Bridgehouses, in Sheffield (1679-1741), who bought the estate from the heirs of Francis Routh of Brenley, Kent, whose father, Sir John, had left Yorkshire and had been financially hammered for loyalty to the King during the Civil War. This villa, built possibly as a place to which he could retire from the smoke and pollution of Georgian Sheffield, seems to have been erected immediately after his purchase in 1711. The need for a new house being that the Clayton family had a three-lives lease of the old hall and were still in occupation. In 1741 this new house passed to Wright’s nephew, Revd. Thomas Wright, who lived in the rectory at Birley, Yorkshire and did not use Romeley House, which fell into some disrepair by the 1780s. Thus in 1788 he sold house and estate to Daniel Thomas Hill. He was the well-heeled son of a London distiller, living near Aylesbury, Bucks., but had business interests locally, living at Chesterfield, where he died in 1811. Daniel Hill clearly had no desire to live at Romeley either, so he let the new house and estate for life to Dr. Thomas Gisborne (1725-1806), a member of a prominent local dynasty, a noted physician, Fellow of St. John’s Cambridge and President of the Royal College of Physicians in 1791, 1794 and 1796 to 1803. He had also been appointed Physician in Ordinary to George III on the recommendation of Erasmus Darwin, FRS, made when the latter had been approached but was keen to avoid being appointed himself.1 Although a bachelor, Gisborne decided to put the house into good repair and to improve it as a fashionable country seat for himself and to improve the setting to create a modest Elysium around it. The brick building he acquired was nothing if not architecturally quirky. It was of five closely- set bays facing south, with side elevations also of three bays, and boasted two storeys and attics. The main façade was notably arresting, rising from a prominent podium and approached by a full width set of stone steps with end and central balustrades. The ground floor was enclosed by angle pilasters rising above the plat band into plinths (or chimneys), whilst at first floor level the façade rose at a slope in a series of reverse curves separated by steps to attic level where they ended against two further full height pilasters which enclosed the central three bays and all of the attic, forming a sort of giant shaped gable. The attic itself consisted of a single sash flanked by a pair of blind lights. The windows had stone lintels and those on the ground floor moulded brick labels beneath the sills, although the sashes one sees on the only view of it, drawn by Samuel Hieronymus Grimm (1733-1794) in 1774, probably replaced stone mullion-and-transom cross windows. There is a naive sophistication about this extraordinary provincial Baroque façade, and its impression on the viewer of a giant shaped pediment is very reminiscent of a group of south Yorkshire houses, one of them, Hellaby Hall, only some ten miles away at Maltby on the east edge of Rotherham, just north of Junction 32 of the M1. This was built on the same scale, with similarly shaped gable (albeit resting upon volutes) and banding, although its façade, of smooth local stone, is not broken up by odd pilasters as is Romeley’s. Another house, Grimethorpe Hall, just NE of Barnsley, is, like Romeley, in brick with stone dressings, and again of five bays. The pediment was once shaped but got simplified in a Georgian rebuild that led to the installation of sash windows. Both houses seem to lack the odd plasters, but in fact Grimethorpe does have attenuated ones to first floor level, flanking the entrance. Both houses have lain derelict and at risk for decades, although the former has been rescued and is now a thriving hotel. Hellaby was built in 1692 by West India merchant Ralph Fretwell (a remote descendant of the Freschevilles of Staveley), whilst Grimethorpe dates to a similar period – at least between 1670 and 1713 , being the adult lifetime of its builder Robert Se(a)ton. This trio probably owe their inspiration to Robert Trollope of York an architect who revelled in the provincial Baroque and who died in 1686 having designed a very similar but
Derbyshire Walk – Elvaston Castle
This walk, around the parkland of Elvaston Castle, is one of my occasional excursions from some of Derbyshire’s grand houses. Unfortunately it could almost be described as from one of Maxwell Craven’s ‘Lost Houses’. Financial constraints on its present owners, Derbyshire County Council, make it impossible to fund the necessary £6.1 million needed to restore the building’s fabric; something that has put it very firmly on the list of ‘Buildings at Risk’ register. As a result of the house being unsafe, it means that it has been closed to the public since 2008, but the 200 acres of parkland around which this walk goes, are still freely accessible. There is also a programme of events in the park throughout the year, ranging from an Easter egg trail, to a night time guided nature walk – for further details check www.derbyshire.gov.uk/countryside events. Until Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, the estate was owned by Shelford Priory, after which it was sold in 1538, to Sir Michael Stanhope of Rampton, Notts. Following his death in 1611, the whole estate, including Elvaston, was inherited by his second son, also called Michael. He became High Sheriff of Derbyshire and died in 1638, but not before he built the Elizabethan-styled house at Elvaston on the outskirts of Derby in 1633. With little change, Elvaston passed steadily through generations of Stanhopes until the 19th century. This was when Charles Stanhope, 3rd Earl of Harrington employed the architect James Wyatt to extend and re-develop the castle in the then popular Gothic Revival style. During this time a new wing and the great hall were added. Further modifications on the Elizabethan-styled south front were carried out in 1836 by the architect Lewis Nockalls Cottingham, leaving the building very much as we see it today. Vacated by its original owners, Elvaston Castle became a teacher training college until 1950, after which it remained mostly empty, slowly declining through intervening decades right through to the present time. Elvaston Castle Gardens Probably still the only truly cared for section of the estate, the gardens were laid out in 1830 for Charles, 4th Earl of Harrington by the relatively unknown gardener, William Barron. The earl had caused something of a scandal by marrying the actress Maria Foote who was seventeen years his junior. Very much a love-match, the couple kept the gardens for their private retreat while Barron spent the next twenty years building their now Grade 2 listed Gothic paradise. Following the 4th Earl’s death in 1851, his brother Leicester Stanhope became the 5th Earl. It was he who opened the gardens to the public for the first time. Along with the castle and its gardens, the estate covers some 200 acres of parkland, including several cottages and gate houses, along with an ice house plus a boat house. Ideally the property could be owned by the National Trust, but by confining their interest to acting in as a Consultancy Body, even they baulk at the thought of funding the £6.1 million required to restore the fabric of Elvaston Castle. Elavaston Country Park In 1969 following the Countryside Act the previous year, the estate including the castle was sold to Derbyshire County Council by the 11th Earl of Harrington. The council opened the estate to the public in 1970 as a Country Park under the terms of the Act. Since then it was used for country fairs and other major events, but latterly lack of funding has meant that even such things have been abandoned. Nevertheless the park is popular with up to 350,000 visitors a year, offering a wide range of activities alongside self-guided walks and cycle rides, or just for a day out in the popular children’s play park. . The Future Threatened with closure due to lack of funding, the council would like to remove its immediate financial liabilities amounting to around £500,000 a year simply to keep it open. Since closure of the main building to the public in 1990 when it was deemed unsafe, the castle and estate have attracted the interest of golf club developers, but this could well restrict the sort of access currently enjoyed by the public at large. The Walk : From the car park off the Borrowash/Elvaston road, follow the woodland track to the left of the children’s play park. Within sight of the lake, turn right. The huge mound of white rocks, an imaginative adventure playground, is made of tufa (naturally reconstituted Derbyshire limestone). The rock was used extensively throughout the park to decorate William Barron’s garden lay-out. Cross the bridge over a narrow neck of the lake and make your way up to the courtyard at the back of the castle. Bear left from the courtyard and then right into the ornamental gardens. Work your way up to the lodge and boundary wall. Join the tree-lined formal drive for about 50 yards and then angle left away from it and on to a path heading towards modern houses in Thulston. Bear right past the newish housing estate and on to a road passing the Harrington Arms. Turn left to join the Borrowash road for a few yards. Cross the main road and bear right on to a side road, bearing right again where it forks. This is Ambaston Lane, follow it for about a mile into Ambaston village. n.b. although this is a minor side road, it can be busy at times, so walk on the right-hand side, facing oncoming traffic. At the ‘T’ junction turn left on to a side road through Ambaston. At the road end turn left past the last houses and follow a grassy field path over a series of fields and as far as the river. Walk along the river bank until the path reaches the Borrowash road. Climb up to the road and bear left along it for about 100 yards. Drop down a side track on your right and regain the river bank. The path here is part of the Derwent
Lost Houses of Derbyshire – Mackworth Castle
The stone shell of the gatehouse to site of the ancient seat of the Mackworth family is one of the most memorable sites in the County. Lying only a few hundred yards from the City boundary of Derby, it invariably excites interest from those who see it for the first time, and it has been drawn and painted numerous times by local artists as diverse as Frank Gresley and Ernest Townsend; it was also photographed at a very early date by the ubiquitous Richard Keene. Its picturesque qualities are enhanced by a row of early 18th century brick farm labourers’ cottages, originally thatched, attached to the right. The reason it is called Mackworth Castle is because the name is entirely colloquial, applied to the existing gatehouse simply because it commands a castle-like air in the lane leading through the still largely unspoilt village. Many people actually do not realise that it is merely a rather grand gatehouse behind which once stood the seat of the Mackworth family, although what it was actually called when standing is far from clear – probably ‘the hall’ or similar. In surviving documents it is merely referred to as a ‘capital mansion’ which is fairly typical Medieval legalese for a manor house. What we see today is a two storey three bay Keuper Sandstone crenelated gatehouse with a central depressed arch with ogiform crocketting executed in relief and a hood-mould above it. There are stepped buttresses either side of the central opening and at the angles, an impost band and a cornice below the crenelated parapet which winds round the slender bartizans at the angles and is punctuated by a row of three gargoyle spout heads. The windows were originally traceried, vestiges of which survived by the bricking up of the outer pair. Yet there is neither roof, nor on the north side any wall at all, only two later brick lean-tos put up in the last couple of centuries in order to provide storage for the Regency farm house built behind. Originally there were side rooms with a two-chamber lodging for the gate keeper above, the large room being furnished with a fireplace with a projecting hood, finials and a castellated chimney above. Beside the fireplace is a corbel upon which to place a lamp. Dr. Emery, Britain’s foremost expert on Medieval Country houses is of the opinion that originally there was a rear wall, and visible vestiges of a low pitched roof, their dismantling in the 17th century possibly explaining the appearance of tooled ashlar blocks similar to those still in the building in a lean-to added to the adjoining cottages and to be found elsewhere round about. A closely related gatehouse is that to Worksop Priory, also late 15th century which, although lacking the crenellations (it is today surmounted by what may be a 17th century gable and roof) is of the same general scale, with similarly placed buttresses and windows, although an elaborate traceried shrine to the right of the door relates solely to its religious use. That fronting the North Yorkshire Meynell’s ancient castle at Whorlton is also comparable, although slightly earlier and simpler, with less ornamentation. Yet if this was a gatehouse, built in the third or fourth quarter of the fifteenth century (as its architecture clearly indicates) what happened to the house? A survey undertaken in 1900 identified two house platforms behind the gatehouse, but the reported position of these seems out of kilter with the extant building. More likely the distinct platform on which the present Castle Farm house rests is a more likely site. Here in 1888 some low rubble walling was found suggestive of a timber framed building on a rubble plinth. The inference is that there was a timber framed manor house and a group of the usual outbuildings on adjoining house platforms, raised up to cope with the occasional flooding of the Markeaton Brook, nearby, just as the Medieval stable block of Tudor Markeaton Hall, demolished in 1754, had been. Mackworth family are recorded here at Mackworth from the first quarter of the 13th century. The first of the family to be called ‘de Mackworth’, Philip, was almost certainly a member of the family of Touchet of Markeaton, which included Mackworth, and he and several of his descendants were stewards to the Touchets, especially after they inherited the Barony of Audley of Heleigh, in Cheshire. Several younger sons were also parsons, one being vicar on Longford and another rector of Kirk Langley; a third became a Prebendary of Peterborough Cathedral and Dean of Lincoln. Thomas Mackworth was, on 1st August 1404 the recipient of the earliest datable grant of arms in Derbyshire being allowed, on the authority of his feudal lord, John Touchet, Lord Audley, a shield bearing the arms of Touchet and Audley divided vertically by a jagged line (called dancettée in heraldic jargon) and with a red chevron superimposed bearing gold fretwork. This Tomas, a lawyer and twice MP for Derby, without doubt lived in the timber framed manor house, the vestiges of which were recorded over a century ago in the farmyard of Castle Farm. He also managed to marry an heiress, in Alice, daughter of Sir John Basings of Empingham and Normanton in Rutland and heiress of her childless brother, another Sir John. On Thomas’s death in 1447, he was succeeded by his son Henry, who also held land at Ash (Etwall) and Trusley. Probably in the 1450s, he is thought to have begun improving his estate at Mackworth, starting by erecting the grandiose gatehouse we can still enjoy today, no doubt leaving rebuilding the house itself in matching style (and no doubt of much increased size) until phase two. However, at this stage Sir John Basings the younger died, and Mackworth suddenly found himself unexpectedly possessed of a much larger landed estate in Rutland, and it became clear from surviving documents that he moved there quite soon afterwards. From that moment on, then, all thought of
The Lost Houses of Derbyshire – Glossop Hall
The Glossop Hall that was demolished in 1958-59 was an unlovely house of titanic proportions, once set in a spectacular wooded park. Unlovely it may have been, but it had an interesting history and was itself at least the third house on the site, although it probably included portions of the fabric of at least one of its predecessors. The manorial estate of Glossop passed at the Dissolution from the Abbey of Basingwerk to the Talbots, Earls of Shrewsbury & Waterford, of whom George, the 6th Earl had the dubious fortune to have married Bess of Hardwick, who spent much of his fortune building prodigy houses like Worksop Manor and Hardwick. At this stage we have no knowledge if there was a manor house at Glossop, especially as all the families mentioned so far were firmly seated elsewhere. This situation appears to have continued until the death of the 7th Earl of Shrewsbury, who left a crop of daughters but no sons, amongst whom his estates were parcelled out. Much of the Derbyshire land went to Lady Alathea Talbot who in 1606 married Thomas Howard, a grandson of the Attainted 4th Duke of Norfolk, who went by one of his subsidiary titles, the Earl of Arundel, although Charles II made his son Earl of Norfolk, and his grand-son had the Dukedom restored to him by reversal of the Act of Attainder. The couple’s son Henry Frederick Howard, a Catholic, like all his family, was fairly prolific, producing at least five sons, of whom the youngest was Bernard, (1641-1717) who actually lived at Glossop and in all probability built there a new house on rolling parkland west of Old Glossop. From his time there long survived a chimney-piece dated 1672 and a priest’s hole, which survived later rebuilding. His son also Bernard (1674-1713) married a lady with a house situated in a less climatically inclement part of England, and moved out in 1712, settling a lease for life on his cousin Lady Philippa Howard, a daughter of the 6th Duke of Norfolk. This was because her husband, Ralph Standish of Standish, near Wigan, was a younger son and they thus needed a house. Thus the couple with their three sons and three daughters settled at Glossop, but clearly wanted a more modern house, so began to replace or rebuild Bernard Howard’s Jacobean house in 1729-31. Work stopped in the latter year, probably with the house mostly complete, when Lady Philippa died, leaving Ralph with a single surviving child, a daughter, Cecilia, born in 1699 and by this time married to William Towneley of Towneley Hall, near Burnley and living away from home. He continued to live part of the time at the house but on his death in 1755 aged 84, the house and its vast moorland estates reverted to the main Howard line in the person of Henry Howard, (1713-1787) who resumed using the house, but only as a shooting box in the season. At this stage, the house itself bore the name Royle Hall after the ancient name of the pastures west and south of the old village on which it had been built. A sketch of it taken in the later 18th century shows a three bay house with a hipped roof, a single bay extension to the south and another to the north, but much lower and probably the small domestic (Catholic) chapel suggests that the house started off as a simple William-and-Mary (that is, rather old fashioned for its date) house of two storeys and attics. In 1827 the diarist James Butterworth visited the area and wrote: ‘At a small distance from the village stands an ancient building called Royle Hall, but now named Glossop Hall. It serves as a retreat during the shooting season, there being plenty of game here; Round it are planted large firs, and in front a very extensive hill is covered with firs of many years growth, through which are pleasant roads.’ And by the 1780s the house was only permanently inhabited by the rather aristocratic agent Charles Calvert with the estate bailiff Thomas Shaw inhabiting the service wing. Calvert had moved on by 1797, however, when the role was taken over by Matthew Ellison, who first re-named the house Glossop Hall. The Ellisons were a Staffordshire family and Matthew had three sons, one, Francis, adopted, and four daughters. Whilst the eldest, Thomas sired a long line of Glossop solicitors, and Frank founded a mill in the town, later living at Park Hall, Michael succeeded as agent at the Hall and he by his son, Michael Joseph Ellison. Meanwhile, one of the daughters, Mary, had married Joseph Hadfield of Lees Hall nearby and their son was Matthew Ellison Hadfield, of whom more anon. Bernard Edward FitzAlan-Howard was in occasional residence in 1815 when he succeeded a distant cousin as 12th Duke of Norfolk. At first, having inherited the house, he extended and remodelled it to the designs of London based family architect Robert Abraham (1774-1850). This consisted of extending northwards a further five bays, the extension to include a new, grander, staircase, but it was done in matching style, complete with attic dormers and banding between the storeys and of small limestone ashlars with millstone grit dressings. Abraham also provided a fine new pedimented stable block set around a courtyard, to the west of the house, embellished with a Wren-like tower and walling replete with rusticated piers topped with ball finials. On the Duke’s death in 1842, the estate went to his second son, Lord Edward FitzAlan-Howard, later (1869) created 1st Lord Howard of Glossop. Not satisfied with the house his father had created, he decided to embellish the whole starting in 1850, and this time employing his agent’s cousin, Matthew Ellison Hadfield (1812-1885) as architect. Hadfield had been articled to Woodhead and Hurst of Sheffield before working for P F Robinson in London. He returned to Sheffield to set up in practice in 1832, taken John Grey Weightman as
