Wentworth Castle – Ghost of a Landscape

Centuries of habitation on what is now known as Stainborough Park, has left behind a historic landscape littered with features from a long bygone era. Nature has reclaimed much of the parkland due to neglect over the majority of the 20^th century. What remains now is a valuable combination of nature and history, offering ghostly glimpses of its former grandeur.

People have lived on this site in Stainborough since the Iron Age. The remains of a now much disguised hillfort lies under the 18^th century folly on the hilltop. Following the Norman Conquest, the lands were owned by the De Lacey’s. In the mid 13^th Century it was owned by the Everingham family, who sold it to the Cutlers in 1610.

Wentworth Castle is an estate born of a bitter family feud. When Thomas Wentworth’s expectations of inheriting nearby Wentworth Woodhouse were dashed in 1695, he bought Stainborough Hall, some seven miles to the north in 1708 and began to create a house and gardens to rival his usurper, changing its name to Wentworth Castle.

In 1711, the title of the Earl of Strafford was recreated for him, but he fell from favour when the House of Hanover succeeded the throne upon the death of his patron, Queen Anne in 1714. A Jacobite supporter of the Stewart dynasty, Thomas Wentworth retired to his estate and put his energies into landscaping his gardens.

His son William inherited the estate in 1739 and carried on his father’s work – and his feud. William was responsible for not only building the Palladian wing of the house (completed in 1765), but also many of the surviving monuments and follies around the estate. I have written previously about the towers built at Worsbrough Common here.

Following the death of the second Earl of Strafford in 1795, the estate passed through several hands in quick succession, until it was inherited in 1804 by Frederick Vernon (later changing his name to Vernon-Wentworth), then aged nine. Frederick carried out a number of changes and improvements to the gardens, passing the estate on to his son Thomas when he died in 1885. Thomas added the conservatory and brought electricity to the estate. He died in Suffolk in 1902 and was succeeded by his son Bruce Canning Vernon-Wentworth.

Despite also making improvements, Bruce seemed to favour the family’s Suffolk estate and moved permanently in Aldeburgh in 1919, abandoning Wentworth Castle completely. The building deteriorated and demolition was considered at one point. The house was sold to Barnsley Corporation in 1948, the gardens and parkland eventually being acquired from the Vernon-Wentworth Trusts by the Wentworth Castle Heritage Trust in 2003. The future of the grounds and parkland now face further uncertainty following the dissolution of the trust and closure of the gardens in 2017.

Years of neglect and decline have seen the landscaped park partially return to nature. The work of the Wentworth Castle Heritage Trust has largely halted the decline, but there are still decaying remnants to be found of the park’s former glory. The Serpentine area of the estate, now woodland inhabited by deer was once a series of ponds, overlooked by the neo-classical rotunda based on the Temple of Tivoli, completed in 1742. The ruins of retaining walls and sluice gates can still be found and in wet winters, the ponds still hold a little water.

On a summer evening, when the warm air is full of the sound of deer fawns playing in the long grass, Stainborough Park is a magical place. If you can zone-out from the background thrum of the distant M1, it is possible to be transported to a place apart from the modern world, to a timeless haven of trees intruding on the carefully landscaped former pleasure grounds of the rich. Although in the mind’s eye, their period costumed ghosts still glide along the planted avenues and elegant gardens, their landscape has been reclaimed.

In the company of deer

Summer can be the cruelest season for landscape photography. Early sunrises and late sunsets don’t fit comfortably into the modern pattern of life. Sunrise before 5.00am often means rising at 2.00am to be in position on a Pennine hill top to catch the first colours of dawn. Sometimes it can be an exhilarating experience to spend a summer night on the moors waiting for dawn, but it isn’t something that can be done regularly if you have to function like a normal human being and do a day job, resisting the overwhelming urge to fall asleep during the afternoon.

It isn’t unusual for me to deviate a little from my normal approach to landscape photography during the summer months. Often I will use the long daylight hours to visit historical buildings, or scout out new locations. Last year I enjoyed photographing new fern fronds unfolding in our garden, lavender buds bursting into life and butterflies visiting the buddleia. Often a summer project will present itself to me naturally.

This year, springtime had been unusually busy. With a general election approaching I had been frantically producing materials for my local (newly formed) Green party. Once the election was over, my thoughts began to turn back to routing around in the history around me. A walk around the monuments at nearby Wentworth Castle presented me with a new project, but not one that I had expected.

I can see Wentworth Castle from the end of the road that I live on. A wooded hilltop across the valley that has been occupied since at least the Iron Age, now crowned with an 18^th century castellated folly. A little further down the slope stands Wentworth Castle, a huge country pile sat on the hillside in all its Georgian splendour. For more about the history of Wentworth Castle, see my earlier post. While researching this, I decided that I needed to have a proper walk around the parkland and explore the monuments.

I parked near the Strafford Arms, walked through Strafford Gate and up the hill to the restored Serpentine Bridge. Following the path along the Serpentine (originally an ornamental river, but now a series of half dried-up ponds) I eventually reached the small patch of woodland, heading for the Rotunda. As I emerged from the woods, there in the field before me was a couple of Fallow Bucks, with Red Deer further down the hill. I was of course immediately smitten! I made a return trip with my camera with the intention of photographing the Serpentine Bridge and Rotunda, it didn’t take much for my attention to turn towards the deer and my summer project was born.

I returned to Wentworth Castle Park almost every day over the summer. Sometimes walking the dogs, sometimes with my camera but always watching the deer as closely as possible, getting to know their habits and just how closely they would tolerate me. While the fawns were still young, the does were quite jumpy. They would bark their dismay when I drew close and an early lesson in respecting distance was learned when a red doe charged at one of my dogs. Fortunately, there was a big wire fence between us but it demonstrated that these are not just docile, passive animals. They should be respected and given space.

There has been a deer park at Wentworth Castle/Stainborough since at least the Elizabethan era and two species of deer inhabit the park. Red deer, which are farmed at Round Green nearby and smaller Fallow deer, which seem to live a more-or-less wild existence. Red deer seem to abide by a herd mentality where as the Fallow deer seem more likely to wander in small groups or individually and are more flighty. Once you get too close for comfort, they will spring away with a bounding grace, where Red deer will just ease out of your way.

I gradually learned how to get closer. I realised quite early on that trying to sneak up unseen was pointless. Dozens of super-sensitive eyes, ears and noses will know you are there before you even see the herd. I found that giving them time to get used to my presence, while gradually moving forward diagonally produced the best results. Eventually, I found that I could almost walk amongst the herd, although respecting a certain distance is still important and by using a long lens, I don’t need to get too close anyway. There are only so many close-up head-shots that are useful and I prefer to try to capture the deer in their environment. I feel that the wellbeing of the animals is by far more important than getting photos and after a while (usually no more than an hour) I withdraw and let them get on with doing whatever deer do when humans aren’t around.

As summer turned towards autumn, the foals grew bigger and the does became less jumpy. The stags began to joust as rutting season approached and were becoming too distracted to worry much about me. I was starting to recognise individual animals by this time and have to confess a certain fondness for the biggest stag of the herd, a monarch stag who I nicknamed ‘The Big Feller’. He is an impressive creature with huge antlers and when he throws his head back and lets out his baleful bellow, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Getting close to Fallow deer is a different proposition to the reds and often turns out to be more by luck than judgement. I found that I was more likely to bump into them than follow them, as they favour the areas of mixed woodland and long grass. The bucks seem to be more relaxed than the does and will tolerate you more closely. There are a couple of bigger bucks that once they were in rutting season didn’t seem bothered by human presence in the slightest. In fact they have passed within a few feet of me without concern.

One occasion left me almost speechless. While photographing a couple of bucks in long grass the large white buck announced himself by crashing through the undergrowth. He and the other large buck began ‘parallel trotting’ (a way to size each other up before fighting) towards me before locking antlers with a ferocity that belies their cute appearance. These animals are 200lbs of pure muscle with antlers attached to the front, that bear a close resemblance to medieval weaponry. They were so close that at one point I had to jump out of the way! It was an exhilarating experience.

There is something about deer, stags in particular that strikes a deep chord within me. During the Mesolithic period, the image of the stag was scratched into cave walls (such as Creswell Crags) to influence the success of the hunt through ritual magic. The image of the shaman is of a human form bearing antlers. During the Neolithic and Bronze Age periods, stags’ antlers were modified into picks that dug the great ditches around Avebury and many of our other Pre-Roman monuments. From the Celtic horned god Cernunnos to Edward Landseer’s painting, ‘The Monarch of the Glen’, the image of the stag has been a potent symbol, embedded in our folklore for millennia after millennia.

It maybe that the stag represents the spirit of nature, purity and freedom. Dwellers of the green forest, survivors of a primeval past before humans held the ascendency over nature. Even after spending most of the summer around the deer at Wentworth Castle Park, I still feel a deep pang when rounding a corner and coming face to face with a stag, or hearing his bellow nearby. That sense of wonder has not left me with familiarity. I’m looking forward to following the rutting season throughout the autumn and hope that I’ll have plenty more images to share here in the coming weeks.

The lost towers of Worsbrough Common

When I first moved to Barnsley in 2004, I was keen to discover the history of the area that I was moving to. A quick search on the brilliant megalithic.co.uk website lead me to an entry on Pastscape detailing that an Iron Age Hillfort had occupied the very hilltop on which I live in Worsbrough Common.

Although this was exciting, searches on the ground soon confirmed that nothing seemed to remain. Unlike the nearby hilltop at Stainborough, which still bears the ditches of its hillfort, Worsbrough Common has a large council estate built in the 1950s. It is likely that this swept away any traces that might have remained. The highest point of Worsbrough Common is still tantalisingly marked as ‘Castle Hill’ on OS maps. At first I thought that this might be the only trace of the hillfort that remained, but I was to find out that it came by its name for a different reason.

Although it seems that the hillfort is probably lost, Worsbrough has a fascinating history that has largely been preserved by the good fortune of being located on the edge of Barnsley. During my research into the hillfort, I came across an ancient tome ‘Worsbrough: Its Historical Associations and Rural Attractions’ by Joseph Wilkinson, published in 1872. Among its illustrations is an etching plate, dating from 1779 of Worsbrough Common (below) which piqued my interest.

Worsbrough Common in 1779

“The towers and trees which once stood here gave an air of antiquity and romance to the place, and the observer on contemplating from a distance their fortification-like aspect, was carried back in thought to the days of chivalry and warfare.”
Joseph Wilkinson, Worsbrough: Its Historical Associations and Rural Attractions.

The etching depicts a view across Worsbrough Common, with the Highstone (Black Rock) in the foreground and the hilltop horizon dominated by a line of castellations and towers. Although the drawing doesn’t accurately match the topography of the landscape, the drawing could have been made from memory and a certain amount of artistic license allowed, the track could correspond to the current position of Mount Vernon Road, which would place the castellations on the skyline running from Kingwell Lane, past what is now Mount Vernon Hospital, towards Black Rock and Castle Hill. As the area is now heavily built over, I considered that all trace of the castellations would now be lost. Especially as the towers have not been included on the OS map of the area, from the 1850 edition onwards, but were included on Castle Hill on the first issue OS map of the area, dated 1841.

The 1841 First Issue Ordnance Survey map of Worsbrough.

I was delighted to hear from a local source that two of the towers still survive in Kingwell Woods. In fact there is a local tale that the woods are haunted by a Blue Lady dating from the Civil War, who died by falling down and abandoned mine shaft or tunnel in the area. It didn’t take me long before I went to have a look.

Kingwell Woods is a forlorn place. A narrow strip of land on a steep bank between Elmhirst Farm and Kingwell Road, it feels like a forgotten corner of Barnsley. One of the towers is easy to find, perched high on the bank, surrounded by thick woodland, it can be seen from the road once you know where to look. It is in a sad state, perched partly on natural rock outcrops, it still has bits of walling adjoining it and the remains of stone steps leading up the steep bank. Looking like it is used as a drinking den, empty cans and the remains of a fire litter the interior.

One of the lost towers in Kingwell Wood.

The second tower is proving a bit more elusive. I headed down into the woods, but after a couple of hundred yards wading through tangles of brambles and ivy while carrying a heavy tripod, I turned back before I met the same fate as the Blue Lady. There were scatters of what could be drystone rubble, but nothing identifiable (there was a pinfold in this area that may also add to the confusion). The woods are so densely overgrown that I may have walked right past it. So that is another adventure for another day. Probably once some vegetation has died back in the winter and without heavy camera gear.

Another view of the tower in Kingwell Wood.

How did these towers come to be on a hillside in Barnsley? There was certainly no castle here throughout the medieval period and the construction is definitely not in the same fashion as medieval fortifications. The answer lies in an 18^th century local family feud that came to rest on the hill on the opposite side of Dove Valley, known now as Wentworth Castle.

When the second Earl of Strafford died childless in 1695, Thomas Wentworth (1672-1739) expected to inherit the estate at Wentworth Woodhouse. However, the estate was unexpectedly passed to his cousin, Thomas Watson. In 1708, he purchased the estate of Stainborough Hall from the Cutler family and began creating an estate to rival that at Wentworth Woodhouse, changing the name to Stainborough Castle. A new Barque wing was completed in 1715 and in 1731, Thomas completed a mock castle behind the house on the hill top that was the site of the previously mentioned hillfort. He then changed the name to Wentworth Castle.

William Wentworth (1722-1791) succeeded his father in 1739 and inherited his father’s appetite for building, adding another wing to the house. The 18^th century was a period with a taste for follies, usually along classical lines, they were almost always of a romantic nature. Wentworth Castle certainly has classical follies, but there was another agenda at play here.

The Wentworths were engaged in a show of one-upmanship with their relatives at Wentworth Woodhouse and what better way to promote your estate from that of a country house, than to declare it a castle of ancient origin. The estate was much larger than it is today and included the hillside of Worsbrough Common, which is clearly visible from Wentworth and a line of castellations would have looked magnificent from the grounds of the house (especially with the sun rising above them). Along with the folly on top of the hill at Stainborough Castle, it would also have given the landscape a feeling of ancient continuity.

View of Wentworth Castle from Worsbrough Common.

So what date could we attach to the building of the towers on Worsbrough Common? The 1817 Enclosure Act for Worsbrough Common gives us the following information.

“Enacted that all the Castle-ruins, and Ornamental Buildings which have formerly been erected by William Earl of Strafford, or any of his ancestors, upon the said Commons, shall, with the ground whereupon the same do stand, at all times hereafter be deemed the property of F.W.T.V. Wentworth, &c., with liberty to repair, support, and rebuild the same, and for that purpose to carry materials through and over the allotments adjoining to the said Castle-ruins, and Ornamental Buildings.”¹

This seems to confirm that the towers were certainly the work of either Thomas Wentworth or his son William. If built by Thomas, they could have been constructed at the same time as the Stainborough Castle folly, around 1731. The tower in Kingwell Woods is similar in appearance to those that rise above the folly entrance.

Stainborough Castle folly, before two of the towers fell in a storm.

Another clue could be the date carved into Black Rock. It is said that the Earl of Strafford thought that the rock was hollow and intended to convert it into a summer house. This would explain the three arched doorways carved into the rock face. That date carved above the central arch is 1756, which places it firmly in the time of William Wentworth. William certainly had a taste for building follies and built the Corinthian Temple and Rotunda, which stand in the current parkland around Wentworth Castle, Archer’s Gate, Strafford Gate, Serpentine Bridge, the Obelisk at Birdwell and possibly the now lost pyramid at Blacker Hill, known as the Smoothing Iron.

The likely conclusion is that the Worsbrough Common towers were constructed at some time between 1731 and 1756. It is possible that they are contemporary with Stainborough Castle folly, but given William’s passion for folly building and that he was responsible for the masonry work on Black Rock, this could well point to him also being the builder of the Worsbrough Common towers.

It is a great shame that what remains of the towers that once dominated the Worsbrough skyline are now forgotten and in such a state of disrepair. Especially given that Wentworth Castle park has been so spectacularly restored of late. Perhaps a little bit of care and attention is over-due for this little piece of Barnsley heritage.

 

1. Worsbrough: Its Historical Associations and Rural Attractions. Joseph Wilkinson (1872).

Once more unto the breach, dear friends!

Last week I was privileged to cover the NUM’s march and rally in Barnsley to mark the 30th Anniversary of the Miners’ Strike. Below is the piece that I wrote for the Barnsley Unite Community Support Centre blog.

The weather was dreadful. Really, really dreadful. But then again, it was Glastonbury weekend, so maybe it should have been expected. With a display of the grim humour that got many through the 1984-85 Miners’ Strike, it was suggested that Thatcher was behind the heavy rain that lashed the NUM march through Barnsley, in commemoration of the 30^th anniversary of the year long strike. “She pissed on us in life and now she’s pissing on us in death”.

Hundreds gathered in the historic Miners’ Hall at the NUM headquarters in Barnsley, in preparation for the short march through Barnsley town centre. On display was the paraphernalia of a once proud industry that had bound communities together, clustered around the pit heads of South Yorkshire. An industry that was cruelly crushed by a government hell-bent on destroying the unions, in their determination to further a free market agenda that dogs us to this day.

The march began to assemble in the increasingly heavy rain. With union banners on display from collieries and regions all over the country, the over-riding atmosphere was of camaraderie and of pride. The brass band struck up and the march was off in a blaze of sound and colour, in defiance of the slate grey sheets of rain.

Just off the Dearne Valley Parkway lies Cortonwood. Now a retail park with stores such as Argos, Sports Direct, McDonalds and Matalan, it is hard to believe that this was once the site of the colliery where the strike started. It seems sadly symbolic that in this place, where men once hewed coal from the ground and began the march out that led to the most bitter strike of recent history, the forces of commerce have moved in. Bulldozed away the remnants of industry and replaced them with stores full of consumer goods, fast food and minimum wages.

When the strike began, I was an 18 year old coal worker, bagging coal at a distribution yard in Huddersfield. I still remember the gritty crunch of coal dust in my mouth and how it ingrained itself into your skin. I remember how the old guys who drove the delivery trucks, after a lifetime of handling coal had been stained a dirty grey colour. I had nothing but respect for those that did the job of hauling coal to the surface and when the lorries started to bring coal from the working pits into the yard (under the pretence that it was destined for hospitals), I resigned.

Back at the Miners’ Hall, there was a rally. Looking out over the sodden congregation, Ian Clayton opened with the observation that soon the steam would begin to rise and that it probably wouldn’t be the first time in this historic venue. Ian and all of the speakers that followed, Kevin Coyne from Unite, Women Against Pit Closures and NUM President Nicky Wilson, gave fine speeches, full of pride in their culture and defiance against the neo-liberal machine that has brought the industry to the brink of extinction.

Sadly, Owen Jones didn’t show up, but George Arthur of the Freedom Riders gave an often humorous insight into current policing practises, following the arrest of two Freedom Riders protesters at Sheffield train station earlier in the week. NUM General Secretary Chris Kitchen closed the rally by ironically thanking South Yorkshire Police for assisting in the town centre road closures, “the last time the police showed me where to park was at Orgreave”.

There is still hope for the future of the coal industry in the UK. The NUM and Unite have joined together in a venture called Coal Combine. At the Carbon Capture & Storage / Coal Combine Seminar in January, delegates from deep mines, surface mines and coal burning power stations took part, uniting not just the two unions but workers from the energy sector. The newly launched website can be found here.

I attended the march as a photographer, but that 18 year old coal worker of my past marched under the banners in solidarity with a battle which may have been lost, but shoulder to shoulder with my comrades in the war for rights and justice which continues.

A Morning at Whitley Edge

A cloudy morning on Royd Moor

As far as sunrises go, it was about as bad as it could get. I could see when I awoke, that the skies were laden with cloud. But you don’t really know what it is going to happen until you are there and often some of the best shots come from the worst conditions. Those moments when the sun punches through the cloud and produces dramatic light don’t come from clear blue skies.

Besides, it feels like a bit of a cop-out to go back to sleep once you have taken the trouble to haul yourself up at stupid o’clock and I was keen to get out anyway. So at 5.15am on a Sunday morning in Spring, I found myself gazing at grey leaden skies above Royd Moor, near Penistone.

An 18th century guide stoop, with wall built around it.

I’ve shot around Royd Moor numerous times, as there are some wonderful views towards Woodhead Pass and Black Hill. Also, it has some fascinating old stone walls that probably date back to the Enclosures Act (I have written about High Bank Lane on this blog previously), but I’ve not been there for sunrise before and was curious to see how it would pan out.

Even when the sky is obscured by cloud, there is often a bright patch to indicate where the sun will rise. Sometimes even a gap in the cloud through which a chink of light can develop. This morning there was nothing! I had parked near the observation point that looks out over the wind turbines on Spicer Hill, as I knew that this would offer the clearest views of the eastern horizon and walked a short way down High Bank Lane. Sunrise came and went unheralded, not even a noticeable increase in light levels. Still, it was a good morning for black and white, so I rattled off a few hopeful shots of some of my favourite views.

Across the fields to Crow Edge.

As the time was about 5.45am, it was far too early to admit defeat, so I decided to head for nearby Whitley Edge. Another favourite spot that is hidden away above Crow Edge that hasn’t been photographed to death, like some of the more popular locations.

I was also keen to take another look at the ruins of Lower Whitley Farm, as it had been used as the set for external shots of Jamaica Inn, in the recent BBC adaptation. This is another spot that I have photographed a few times and I noticed that the production team had made quite a few changes, such as removing the wall around the yard, clearing rubble and building a few extra bits of set.

The ruins of Lower Whitley Farm at Crow Edge.

The ruins of the old farm are a perfect setting for a period tale of dark doings. Brooding on Crow Edge, the decaying hulk is surrounded by boggy fields and collapsing dry stone walls. I find that abandoned buildings often have a melancholy air about them. It is as if the fabric of the building soaks up the lives of its past inhabitants, their hopes and fears, laughter and arguments and allows those stored up emotions to seep out as the building decays. Lower Whitley Farm has this in spades.

The building is now fenced off, although just a few years ago, it was open for exploration. A small farmhouse is attached to a series of barns, with the largest of these set centrally behind a fantastic arched doorway. One of the smaller barns still has the rotting remains of wooden stalls for animals. How many more winters the old roof will last is anyone’s guess.

I worked my way around the house, lining up views through old gateways and trying a few shots through the fence. It was then that I noticed scurrying movement around me, in the reeds that cluster around the boggy patches. Hares were racing after each other in pursuit of a female, oblivious to my presence. I sat and watched them for a while. I may not have got much by the way of light but sometimes it’s just good to be out!

Whitley Edge, looking towards Crow Edge and Hepworth.

Wentworth Old Church and the Earl of Strafford

The ruins of Wentworth Old Church

Wentworth Old Church, in the village of Wentworth near Barnsley, traces its origins back to the 13th century (the first mention being in 1235) and contains the tombs of many of the Wentworth family and the Earls of Strafford. The tower dates to the 14/15^th century and in 1548 Thomas Wentworth bequeathed stonework for Monk Breton Priory that he had bought following the dissolution. The remainder of the current church was rebuilt in 1684 for William Wentworth. Although the majority of the church is now in ruins (the north chapel still intact), it is still clear to see what a magnificent building it must have been in it’s prime.  It was replaced by a new church, which stands immediately to the south in 1877 and the old church fell out of use. It now stands sentient over the churchyard, all faded glory and weathered stone.

Thomas Wentworth (1593-1641) was an advisor to Charles I, High Sheriff of Yorkshire, Lord Deputy of Ireland and the first Earl of Strafford. However, he seems to have fallen from favour and in 1641 was imprisoned in the Tower of London on a charge of treason. Charles I found himself under immense pressure from parliament to sign Wentworth’s death warrant, which he did on 10th May 1641. Wentworth was executed two days later and his body still lies under this church. When Charles I was himself executed eight years later, he seemed to be of the opinion that it was his punishment for allowing the execution of Thomas Wentworth.

Two views of the 14/15th century tower and 17th century doorway

St Mary’s, Worsbrough

St Mary’s Church, Worsbrough

St Mary’s Church stands in Worsbrough Village, near Barnsley. There are some fantastic tomb stones here (some of the biggest I’ve ever seen), many dating back to the 18th and even 17th century.

The church itself dates to at least the mid 12th century, with the possibility that it stands on the site of an earlier Saxon church (the name Worsbrough is of Saxon origin). A couple of hundred yards north of here, a Saxon cross used to stand in a field by a well, where four tracks met named Helliwell Hill (a corruption of Holy Well). Meaning that this little hill has probably been a place of some importance for well over a thousand years, possibly going back even into prehistory.

The churchyard contains the mass grave of 75 miners killed in The Darley Main Colliery Disaster 1849. In the church stands the unique and curious double-decker oak tomb and figures of Sir Roger Rockley who died in 1553. The south door dates from 1480.

St Mary’s, Worsbrough

Royd Moor, Thurlstone

The view across Millhouse Green towards Thurlstone Moor and the Woodhead Pass.

Rising high out of the Pennine mill village of Thurlstone, near Penistone, is an unprepossessing side road named High Bank Lane. As it rises up the hillside it becomes a trackway, leading to Royd Moor, some spectacular Yorkshire views and a few interesting fragments of history along the way.

Thurlstone dates from at least the Saxon period and derives its name from a combination of the Anglo-Saxon term ‘tun’ (meaning fenced area or enclosure) and the Old Danish personal name ‘Thurulf’, suggesting that a settlement already existed when it was taken over by the Vikings and named after the local lord.

A possible ancient boundary stone on High Bank Lane

As the track climbs out of the village and past the fields, a very peculiar stone stands out from its drystone wall surround. A roughly triangular shaped boulder (which would once have stood alone before the wall was built), with a sub-circular depression in the centre. On here a rude cross has been carved (looking very much like it has been carried out with modern tools, and is very smooth and polished to the touch).

My guess is that it once existed as some form of marker, possibly a boundary stone. Despite searching, references have been impossible to find, so if there is anyone out there that has any information of any kind about this curious stone, I would love to learn more about it.

An old guide stoop, embedded in the wall

It seems almost certain that the track would once have been used as a packhorse route and this is supported by a very old guide stoop near the top of the lane. In 1697, it was ordered that guide posts be erected on the moors where routes intersected. Mile posts were made compulsory on all turnpike roads in 1767, although it is unlikely that this track was ever a turnpike.

Pointing the way to Huddersfield (other directions are no doubt hidden by the wall), the guide stoop certainly predates the drystone wall that is built around it. Probably built around the time of Thurlstone’s Act for enclosing common land, which was passed in 1812 (Penistone followed in 1819). The style of carving looks to place the stoop around the mid 18^th century.

The track becomes a modern road surface, once it reaches Spicer House Lane, which continues for approximately a further 4km, until it reaches the A635 Doncaster to Manchester road, near New Mill.

Spicer Hill observation platform

A noticeable feature of the moor at this point, are the wind turbines on Spicer Hill. In fact, a viewing platform has been built that commands an excellent view over them. As well as a number of reservoirs that catch the water draining off of these moors.

Continue past Broadstone Revervoir, to the junction of Windmill Lane, turn towards High Flats and you will find the faint remains of an earthwork dating from either the Iron Age, or Romano-British period, at a place appropriately named Castle Hill.

If anyone does have any information regarding the stone described above on High Bank Lane, please contact me via my website.

Sunset on High Bank Lane

The Rich Man and the Needle’s Eye

The Needle’s Eye, from the north

Up on the ridge, overlooking the old stately home of Wentworth Woodhouse, in a clearing in Lee Wood, stands one of the four follies of the Wentworth estate. A curious, stone built gateway, known as the Needle’s Eye.

The pyramid measures approximately 38 feet in height, with a base of almost 20 feet on each side. The passageway is a little under nine feet wide and contains stone benches on each side, with wheel-stops inside each corner. It is topped by a stone carved funerary urn, rather than a pyramidion.

Surprisingly little is known of its construction date or purpose. Its design is attributed to architect, John Carr. Local legend tells that it was built by Charles Watson-Wentworth, the 2nd Marquess of Rockingham (1730-1782), to win a wager that he could drive a coach and horses through the eye of a needle. Various dates are given for the date of construction, all of which fall within the life-span of the 2^nd Marquess, ranging from mid-century to 1780. However, its English Heritage listing states that it is clearly visible on an engraving dating from circa 1730.

Charles Watson-Wentworth is an interesting character. Twice Whig Prime Minister (1765-66 and again from March 1782 until his death in July of that year), and a descendant of Thomas Wentworth, MP for Pontefract and the first Earl of Strafford, executed at the Tower of London by Charles I in 1641 to appease parliament*. At the age of fifteen Charles’ father made him Colonel in charge of a volunteer defense force, against the Jacobite uprising of 1745.  He rode from Wentworth to Carlisle, to join the Duke of Cumberland in his pursuit of Charles Stuart. The nearby Hoober Stand was constructed to celebrate the victory over the ‘Young Pretender’. Charles was responsible for much of the building at the great house and among the grounds. He was buried in the Earl of Strafford’s vault in York Minster and a mausoleum built in Wentworth’s grounds to commemorate him.

There has been a house at Wentworth since Saxon times, the wealth of the subsequent landowners being built on the coal measures of the estate. The pyramid stands at the crossroads of two old (now disused) coaching roads, on the boundary between Wentworth and Rainborough. Near the gate that leads from Coley Lane onto the track, is an ancient stone that looks a little like a miniature cross base. Local lore supposes that it was used as a vinegar stone (in which coins were left in exchange for food by those infected with the plague) and although it looks too small to have once held a wayside cross, due to its position, it could have held a boundary marker of some description. It is possible that the Needle’s Eye was also constructed as a boundary marker, in a grander style befitting the status of the Wentworth Woodhouse estate.

The Needle’s Eye, from the south east

The fact that the structure is topped by an urn, rather than the more accustomary pyramidion, could possibly indicate that it was built as a memorial. If the pyramid dates from before 1730, it could be a memorial to Lewis Watson (1655-1724), the MP for Canterbury and confusingly, the third Baron and first Earl of Rockingham.

One other odd feature, which could possibly reveal some of the pyramid’s history, is that on the eastern side there are what appear to be a number of musket ball holes. It has been suggested that these could be the result of an incident of execution by firing squad (possibly of Jacobite rebels). How much truth there is in this I am not sure, as some of the holes look too big to have been caused by musket shot, while others are way above where you would expect fire concentrated on the heart to be. A few similar marks can also be seen on the western face too.

Although the past of this wonderful folly is rather murky, on a stormy evening, with the wind whisking the tree branches, it is easy to imagine the sound of approaching hooves and the rattle of a coach along the ridge. And if another folk tale is to be believed, the possibility of coming face to face with the local padfoot that inhabits the quiet lanes around here, adds a further air of apprehension to this lonely hillside.

 

*Another story for another day!