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On April 26th, 2005, I stood alone on this spot on the edge of the valley of the River Yarrow in Heath Charnock, pondering my past, present and future while overlooking what I affectionately think of as "My Valley" - the place where I was born and lived the first fourteen years of my life. I didn't visit anyone that day - no old friends or neighbours. I had no real reason for being there. Yet having only a few days in England, I couldn't allow myself to not be there. I didn't know what it was, but I felt something that day, something I can't describe, can't really express to anyone who hasn't felt it, but it was strong, powerful. The best I can do is to say that it was a sense of belonging. That this valley and I were connected intimately, spiritually somehow. I felt that I was part of this valley, and that it was part of me.
It wasn't until eight years later in early 2013, when I started investigating my family history in depth, that I began to understand these sensations and the significance of My Valley, and of the photos I took on that day in 2005. Because in 2005 I had no idea that many of my ancestors had, like me, been born in and lived in this valley and the surrounding areas. Only now do I realise that for those first fourteen years of my life, I had been walking in my ancestors' footsteps - often literally!
I wonder now what Heath Charnock would have been like 100 or so years before I got there. How different was my life to theirs? Looking at the photo it's hard to imagine the valley ever having been much different, and in fact one thing that struck me in 2005 was just how little had changed in the 43 years since I had lived there. And if we could go back in time four or five hundred years, it probably wouldn't look much different either.
Although there were Stone Age and Bronze Age settlements in the area, and possibly some Roman activity, Heath Charnock's recorded history only goes back to the late 1100's (only!), when it was part of the Penwortham Fee, at a time when virtually all land in England belonged to the King. The land was broken up in a very complicated way using a range of terms like "ploughlands", "hides", "hundreds", "oxgangs", and "wapentakes", to name just a few. Its usage and control was granted to those in the King's favour or service, and those men would be, in simplistic terms, the "Lords of the Manor". They would pay rent to the Crown, and in turn they would have peasants work the land for them, often as free men, effectively running their own farms, for a rent they would pay to their Landlord. The Penwortham Fee stretched from the River Ribble down to what is now Standish - a vast estate held by Randle de Marsey and then by the Ferrers. By 1288 there were two subordinate manors held by Thomas Banestre and William Gogard, which eventually dissipated through sales and partitions over the next few hundred years, into the area we now know as Heath Charnock. And for the most part, throughout those centuries, Heath Charnock was predominantly an agricultural community. For a more in-depth look at how Heath Charnock evolved over the last 800 years, you might like to visit this website - there you will see why I have over-simplified my version!
In my time at Heath Charnock the area was mainly concerned with dairy farming, as it still is today. Around the year 1400, we would have seen crops of corn, fine wheat, barley, beans, peas and oats. Part of the ancient Parish of Standish, a 1582 list of subscribers to St Wilfrid's Church shows the number of dwellings in Heath Charnock to have been 34. A parish census of 1754 shows 57 dwellings, and in 1764 the population was 393.
Although there were Stone Age and Bronze Age settlements in the area, and possibly some Roman activity, Heath Charnock's recorded history only goes back to the late 1100's (only!), when it was part of the Penwortham Fee, at a time when virtually all land in England belonged to the King. The land was broken up in a very complicated way using a range of terms like "ploughlands", "hides", "hundreds", "oxgangs", and "wapentakes", to name just a few. Its usage and control was granted to those in the King's favour or service, and those men would be, in simplistic terms, the "Lords of the Manor". They would pay rent to the Crown, and in turn they would have peasants work the land for them, often as free men, effectively running their own farms, for a rent they would pay to their Landlord. The Penwortham Fee stretched from the River Ribble down to what is now Standish - a vast estate held by Randle de Marsey and then by the Ferrers. By 1288 there were two subordinate manors held by Thomas Banestre and William Gogard, which eventually dissipated through sales and partitions over the next few hundred years, into the area we now know as Heath Charnock. And for the most part, throughout those centuries, Heath Charnock was predominantly an agricultural community. For a more in-depth look at how Heath Charnock evolved over the last 800 years, you might like to visit this website - there you will see why I have over-simplified my version!
In my time at Heath Charnock the area was mainly concerned with dairy farming, as it still is today. Around the year 1400, we would have seen crops of corn, fine wheat, barley, beans, peas and oats. Part of the ancient Parish of Standish, a 1582 list of subscribers to St Wilfrid's Church shows the number of dwellings in Heath Charnock to have been 34. A parish census of 1754 shows 57 dwellings, and in 1764 the population was 393.
But if we could slip back in time and stand in that spot in, say, June 1841, things would have been quite different. To begin with, we would be standing in a clay pit. The population had nearly tripled, to 1062. The Brickfield Cottages, across Nickleton Brow beyond my hire car, would be there, and on the very left of the picture we would see a Fire Brick Works, quite likely the owners of the clay pit we'd be standing in. The Industrial Revolution ushered in over a century of dramatic change to Heath Charnock which appears to have been and gone by the time I arrived in 1958.
Behind the Brick Works there was another clay pit, and beyond that was Long Lane, my street. And across Long Lane was Turners Smithy Fire Brick Works. Immediately to our left between the clay pit we're standing in and Long Lane, was a coal pit, and a small row of cottages which still stand.
If we could leave the hire car here, and take a walk through time starting from this spot and walking around "My Valley", what might we see? Who might we meet? Turning to our right, the view in 1841 wouldn't be much different: I doubt the wire fencing would be there and the power pole certainly wouldn't, but the stone walls almost certainly were. The road would be gravel or dirt, but following much the same path. Halfway up the other side of the valley on the left of the road we would see Dill Hall, as we do now, and the cottages just beyond that are "Lane Ends", marking the end of Back Lane, which were also there in 1841. Across the road from Lane Ends we would see Dill Cottage, now known as the Yew Tree Inn.
As we set off down Nickleton Brow and look to our right in 2005 we see Blindhurst Farm, where my brother, sister and I spent a lot of our spare time when we were kids. Our milk used to be delivered directly from this dairy farm to our front door every morning, and in school holidays and some weekends we would go out on the milk rounds or work in the dairy, bottling fresh milk, separating and bottling cream, and washing returned empty bottles. Blindhurst appears on the Ordinance Survey Map of 1845, and while the shedding and outbuildings would have been different, the stone barns and farm house are the same in our 1841 walk. But halfway down the slope, between the camera and the farm, there are coal pits, and to the right of the farm, roughly where that patch of lighter green grass lies in front of the treed area, is a sandstone quarry. Beyond that quarry is my first school - Rivington Primary School
In 2005 the school buildings were being extended, the older building dating back to 1714. But this is not the original building, which was destroyed by fire. The school was founded by James Pilkington, Bishop of Durham, born in Rivington to the Pilkington Family who owned large estates in the area. James Pilkington petitioned Queen Elizabeth I, who granted the charter for the school in 1556
The Yew Tree Inn, opposite the end of Back Lane, was a land mark for us and no doubt for generations before us. Walking through here in 1841 we know this as Dill Cottage. Henry Berry runs a grocery store here, and has a bread oven where locals can bring their dough to bake. In a few years, Henry's son John will convert the cottage to a Beerhouse, and name it after Yew Trees that grow nearby. There's also a weighbridge here which is used for weighing stones brought out of the many local quarries.
Turning left at the Yew Tree we walk along the far side of My Valley, on Charnock Back Lane. A little way along we come across what now looks like a small stone shed, but in 1841 it is a school house, on the corner of Water St, a narrow track which leads down to a foot bridge over the Yarrow. We used to know the area as Abyssinia, never really knowing why. It was given that nickname because Abyssinia is the old name for what is now Ethiopia, and down that track in 1841 there are more coal pits, and the workers emerge from the pits at the end of the day coloured black from the coal dust.
Turning left at the Yew Tree we walk along the far side of My Valley, on Charnock Back Lane. A little way along we come across what now looks like a small stone shed, but in 1841 it is a school house, on the corner of Water St, a narrow track which leads down to a foot bridge over the Yarrow. We used to know the area as Abyssinia, never really knowing why. It was given that nickname because Abyssinia is the old name for what is now Ethiopia, and down that track in 1841 there are more coal pits, and the workers emerge from the pits at the end of the day coloured black from the coal dust.
Today the Charnock Embankment retains part of the western side of the Anglezarke Reservoir, but in 1841 we don't see this. Work on the reservoirs won't start for another nine years, and here we see more pasture and some forest, and the land rising a little before falling away towards Black Brook. Beyond the Brook we can see Stone's House Woods, Stone's House Quarry and Lister Mill Quarry. Immediately to our right is Haddock Fold Colliery, behind which are Haddock Fold Cottages, today barely traceable ruins.
As we walk along Charnock Back Lane, approaching Haddock Fold Colliery on this Sunday morning in the summer of 1841, we see a family coming out of Haddock Fold Cottages, all dressed in their Sunday Best, on their way to Church. As they turn onto Back Lane a young Robert Jolly, an Engine Tenter aged about 17, lingers while the rest carry on towards Rivington. Robert lives with his Grandfather, widower William Jolly who is a weaver at the Springfield Mill on Babylon Lane, a mile and a half away. He lost his wife, Phoebe, less than five years ago, and she was buried at Rivington Church in December 1836. William looks back at Robert with a knowing smile, shakes his head amusedly, and carries on walking with his son John and daughter Phoebe. Phoebe is joined by Richard Asmough, also an Engine Tenter, who lives at Holmes' Barn toward the bottom end of Back Lane. He walked here earlier to meet up with Phoebe. They'll be married in seven months.... I wonder if she's pregnant?
Moments later a much larger family, numbering thirteen, walks up from the Dickinson Houses. Robert lifts his hat. "Good morning Mr Critchley, Mrs Critchley" he says, smiling warily. Thomas Critchley looks sternly at the boy and in his deepest Lancashire voice grunts "Mornin' Lad", while his wife, Ann, tries not to look too friendly, even though she quite likes young Robert. Thomas and most of his family also work at the mill, except for 25 year old James who is a Fire Brick Maker, and 15 year old Peter who is a Collier. Even 6 year old Alice is a Winder at the Cotton Mill.
After a playful scuffle with Thomas's sons Richard and Peter, who are about his age, Robert walks beside Thomas's 19 year old daughter Rachel, while her younger sisters Lucy and Alice giggle and make faces as Robert. Robert and Rachel deliberately walk a little slower than the rest so as to fall behind by a few paces, and hold hands as they walk, always keeping an eye on Thomas in case he should turn around. None of them knows it yet, but in just over three years time this young couple we see walking hand-in-hand will marry, and will become my Great Great Grandparents.
We pass the Dickinson Houses, where Thomas Critchley's family lives, and we see Thomas's younger brother John and his family, who live next door, coming out of their cottage. John is a weaver too, and his wife and three of their five children also work at the mill.
Our walk along Charnock Back Lane winds us steadily back down towards the Yarrow, passing farms, more coal pits and some water wells. We pass the homes of the Derbyshires and the Ainsworths, names that will still be in the area during my time. We pass the home of William and Margaret Waddilove, who I think are cousins to Tom Critchley - his mother was a Waddilove from Withnell, not far away. We make our way down Holmes' Brow into Limbrick, past Limbrick Quarry and some weavers' cottages which still stand today, and to Limbrick Bridge, a foot-bridge for pedestrians with a ford for carriages, which cross the River Yarrow at the bottom end of Long Lane. The stone-arch bridge that I knew won't be built for another fifty years or so. Straight ahead would take us past Hall O'Th'Hill (Cowling) Mill, over the Leeds to Liverpool Canal and into Chorley, but we turn left, over the Yarrow, and head up Long Lane. Just over the bridge we see the Black Horse, first licenced in 1577 while England was under the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, and where, reputedly, Oliver Cromwell spent some time during the Battle Of Preston in the Civil War.
Long Lane rises quite sharply from the Black Horse up Limbrick Brow, then levels off as we pass a sand pit on our right, and further up on our left more Derbyshires have a farm. Next to that is Hallsworth's - some Jolly's live there, and near the corner of Hut Lane (the other end of Water Street which crosses the Yarrow at Abyssinia) is a small group of cottages which I think are called the Johnson Houses. More Jolly's live here, including John Jolly, who in a few years time will become a beer seller, and the cottages will be known as Traveller's Rest.
As Long Lane gently continues to rise we can again look across My Valley to Back Lane with Winter Hill and the Anglezarke Moors in the background, but where I remember grassy fields we see Anderton's Colliery, and a weighing machine station in amongst the surrounding farmlands. Approaching Slack's Lane, which ends almost opposite my birthplace, we find Gratrix clay pit in the spot where my parents will build our home in 110 years or so. In what I remember as the field directly opposite my house there is a tile kiln. From here Long Lane climbs a little more and we reach the end of Nickleton Brow, where our 1841 walk began, and as we continue to the end of Long Lane we pass Turner Smithy Firebrick Works, the Bent Pit Houses, and we reach the Bay Horse Inn
Jolly's, Critchley's, Waddiloves - they were here. They walked where we just walked, taking shortcuts on the network of Public Footpaths that criss-cross the valley, just as we used to do when I was a boy. They knew families that I knew, and went to places that I went to. As children I doubt that many of my ancestors would have trecked across the snow-covered fields in winter to get to Rivington School as I did - most of them were not that fortunate. Instead they would have crossed the snow fields to get to the mills, the quarries, brickworks and coal pits. In the depths of winter they would have barely seen the light of day, starting their daily grind a couple of hours before the 8:30 sunrise, and finishing well after the 4 o'clock darkness. While the winter blankets of shiny white snow made My Valley very beautiful and could be a lot of fun, I remember well how bitterly cold and harsh the winter walk could be. But our days at school were much shorter than their days in the pits and the factories, and we had a bus service most of the time, except when the bus couldn't make the climb up Limbrick Brow past the Black Horse, and had to turn back to Chorley because of the snow and ice.
But in the spring and summer they would have enjoyed Sunday walks (after church, of course), just as we did, on Winter Hill and the Anglezarke Moors, and picnics around Lead Mine Valley by the babbling brooks and waterfalls, escaping the hardships of life in Industrial Lancashire, just for an afternoon, then savouring the long, lingering twilight that casts a scarlet veil over the valley until well after 10 o'clock at night.
Yes, they were here. Perhaps they're still here. They were born in this valley, just as I was. They walked the fields and the hills, the public footpaths and the laneways, they rolled down the lush grassy slopes, climbed the oak and sycamore trees and jumped across the Yarrow, just as I did. And I never knew it.
Until they started calling me back....
As we walk along Charnock Back Lane, approaching Haddock Fold Colliery on this Sunday morning in the summer of 1841, we see a family coming out of Haddock Fold Cottages, all dressed in their Sunday Best, on their way to Church. As they turn onto Back Lane a young Robert Jolly, an Engine Tenter aged about 17, lingers while the rest carry on towards Rivington. Robert lives with his Grandfather, widower William Jolly who is a weaver at the Springfield Mill on Babylon Lane, a mile and a half away. He lost his wife, Phoebe, less than five years ago, and she was buried at Rivington Church in December 1836. William looks back at Robert with a knowing smile, shakes his head amusedly, and carries on walking with his son John and daughter Phoebe. Phoebe is joined by Richard Asmough, also an Engine Tenter, who lives at Holmes' Barn toward the bottom end of Back Lane. He walked here earlier to meet up with Phoebe. They'll be married in seven months.... I wonder if she's pregnant?
Moments later a much larger family, numbering thirteen, walks up from the Dickinson Houses. Robert lifts his hat. "Good morning Mr Critchley, Mrs Critchley" he says, smiling warily. Thomas Critchley looks sternly at the boy and in his deepest Lancashire voice grunts "Mornin' Lad", while his wife, Ann, tries not to look too friendly, even though she quite likes young Robert. Thomas and most of his family also work at the mill, except for 25 year old James who is a Fire Brick Maker, and 15 year old Peter who is a Collier. Even 6 year old Alice is a Winder at the Cotton Mill.
After a playful scuffle with Thomas's sons Richard and Peter, who are about his age, Robert walks beside Thomas's 19 year old daughter Rachel, while her younger sisters Lucy and Alice giggle and make faces as Robert. Robert and Rachel deliberately walk a little slower than the rest so as to fall behind by a few paces, and hold hands as they walk, always keeping an eye on Thomas in case he should turn around. None of them knows it yet, but in just over three years time this young couple we see walking hand-in-hand will marry, and will become my Great Great Grandparents.
We pass the Dickinson Houses, where Thomas Critchley's family lives, and we see Thomas's younger brother John and his family, who live next door, coming out of their cottage. John is a weaver too, and his wife and three of their five children also work at the mill.
Our walk along Charnock Back Lane winds us steadily back down towards the Yarrow, passing farms, more coal pits and some water wells. We pass the homes of the Derbyshires and the Ainsworths, names that will still be in the area during my time. We pass the home of William and Margaret Waddilove, who I think are cousins to Tom Critchley - his mother was a Waddilove from Withnell, not far away. We make our way down Holmes' Brow into Limbrick, past Limbrick Quarry and some weavers' cottages which still stand today, and to Limbrick Bridge, a foot-bridge for pedestrians with a ford for carriages, which cross the River Yarrow at the bottom end of Long Lane. The stone-arch bridge that I knew won't be built for another fifty years or so. Straight ahead would take us past Hall O'Th'Hill (Cowling) Mill, over the Leeds to Liverpool Canal and into Chorley, but we turn left, over the Yarrow, and head up Long Lane. Just over the bridge we see the Black Horse, first licenced in 1577 while England was under the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, and where, reputedly, Oliver Cromwell spent some time during the Battle Of Preston in the Civil War.
Long Lane rises quite sharply from the Black Horse up Limbrick Brow, then levels off as we pass a sand pit on our right, and further up on our left more Derbyshires have a farm. Next to that is Hallsworth's - some Jolly's live there, and near the corner of Hut Lane (the other end of Water Street which crosses the Yarrow at Abyssinia) is a small group of cottages which I think are called the Johnson Houses. More Jolly's live here, including John Jolly, who in a few years time will become a beer seller, and the cottages will be known as Traveller's Rest.
As Long Lane gently continues to rise we can again look across My Valley to Back Lane with Winter Hill and the Anglezarke Moors in the background, but where I remember grassy fields we see Anderton's Colliery, and a weighing machine station in amongst the surrounding farmlands. Approaching Slack's Lane, which ends almost opposite my birthplace, we find Gratrix clay pit in the spot where my parents will build our home in 110 years or so. In what I remember as the field directly opposite my house there is a tile kiln. From here Long Lane climbs a little more and we reach the end of Nickleton Brow, where our 1841 walk began, and as we continue to the end of Long Lane we pass Turner Smithy Firebrick Works, the Bent Pit Houses, and we reach the Bay Horse Inn
Jolly's, Critchley's, Waddiloves - they were here. They walked where we just walked, taking shortcuts on the network of Public Footpaths that criss-cross the valley, just as we used to do when I was a boy. They knew families that I knew, and went to places that I went to. As children I doubt that many of my ancestors would have trecked across the snow-covered fields in winter to get to Rivington School as I did - most of them were not that fortunate. Instead they would have crossed the snow fields to get to the mills, the quarries, brickworks and coal pits. In the depths of winter they would have barely seen the light of day, starting their daily grind a couple of hours before the 8:30 sunrise, and finishing well after the 4 o'clock darkness. While the winter blankets of shiny white snow made My Valley very beautiful and could be a lot of fun, I remember well how bitterly cold and harsh the winter walk could be. But our days at school were much shorter than their days in the pits and the factories, and we had a bus service most of the time, except when the bus couldn't make the climb up Limbrick Brow past the Black Horse, and had to turn back to Chorley because of the snow and ice.
But in the spring and summer they would have enjoyed Sunday walks (after church, of course), just as we did, on Winter Hill and the Anglezarke Moors, and picnics around Lead Mine Valley by the babbling brooks and waterfalls, escaping the hardships of life in Industrial Lancashire, just for an afternoon, then savouring the long, lingering twilight that casts a scarlet veil over the valley until well after 10 o'clock at night.
Yes, they were here. Perhaps they're still here. They were born in this valley, just as I was. They walked the fields and the hills, the public footpaths and the laneways, they rolled down the lush grassy slopes, climbed the oak and sycamore trees and jumped across the Yarrow, just as I did. And I never knew it.
Until they started calling me back....
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This Story Was Written By
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Footnotes:
A certain amount of "literary license" has been applied to the writing of this story, but the people mentioned in the story are real.
I don't actually know that these families went to the church at Rivington every Sunday, but church on Sundays was common practice, and Rivington would have been one of the closest. I have evidence that Phoebe Jolly was buried at Rivington Church, so it's a logical assumption that the family attended there regularly. Ann Critchley was buried at Rivington Church in 1848, and Thomas was also buried there in 1858, despite the family having moved to Eaves Lane, Chorley. I imagine this was so that he could be buried next to his wife.
The Springfield Mill in Babylon Lane employed many people from the area, but I have no way of knowing that these people actually worked there. I believe there was another cotton mill somewhere in Heath Charncock, but I haven't found it yet. When we were kids the Springfield Mill belonged to Weston's Biscuits and was used as a distribution centre. It was closed down in the 1980's and the area is now town houses. Some of the stone wall that surrounded the mill still stands
The relationship between Robert and William Jolly is conjecture on my part. If you have read Joan Dickinson's story about her Haddock Fold field trip, you'll see that she describes Robert as William's son. I believe this is a logical assumption on her part, given the ages of John and Phoebe, who are not much older than Robert. However, while I have found evidence of William being their parents, I have no such evidence for Robert. I have found evidence suggesting that Robert was the illegitimate son of Nancy Jolly, born in Heath Charnock, who married Edward Farnworth in 1827, about three years after Robert was born, and they lived in Horwich. Nancy was born in about 1806, and I speculate that William (born about 1786) was her father, and therefore Robert's Grandfather. Unfortunately the 1841 census doesn't give us the relationships between household members, so it's left to us to figure that out. Why Robert was at William's house is also open to speculation: he may have been living there because it was closer to his work than Nancy's place in Horwich; it could be that he didn't get along with his step-father, Ed Farnworth; or it could be that he wasn't living there at all, but happened to be staying there on census night.
So far I haven't been able to find who Nancy Jolly's parents actually were, but I strongly suspect that they were William and Phoebe Jolly. If my theory is correct, it places my Heath Charnock Ancestry at least five generations back.
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Lovely story ... I am one of the Berry family you mentioned
ReplyDelete
DeleteThanks Andrew! So you're connected to the Yew Tree Inn, and your Ancestors and mine were neighbours! My sister actually worked at the Yew Tree for a time in about 1970.
Glad you liked the story!
Cheers
Keith
Nice story that has given me a great insight into the area that my family come from.
ReplyDeleteMy great-great-great grandfather was Henry Jolly and his wife was Alice (nee Baxondale). I have them in Heath Charnock going back to the early 1800's.
They were the parents of my great-great grandfather, William Jolly, whose wife was Mary (nee Barlow).
They were the parents of my great grandmother Alice Jolly, who had a son, out of wedlock called William. He was my mothers father. She was born in Corporation Cottage in 1926. I have records of the family at Turner Smithy, Corporation Cottages, Bent Row and Gratrix Houses.
I would say that, for my mothers side at least, Heath Charnock is where I have my roots. I will be visiting there, for the first time, on 21st February 2019. Hopefully I will get the same sense of history that seems to fill you.
Bryn Robinson, KIngs Lynn, Norfolk
Thanks Bryn! It seems your maternal history is indeed strongly rooted in Heath Charnock. There appears to have been a lot of Jolly's in the area in the 1800's, some related, some not, and hard to establish which are and which aren't. The Corporation Cottages were just up the road from where I was born, and just behind my car in the photo, on the other side of the M61. Apparently it used to be the Corporation Inn, the Corporation being the Liverpool Corporation who built the Reservoirs in the 1860's. It would seem it remained an inn up until around the time your Mum was born there. If you haven't come across it yet, there's an interesting post about the Corporation Cottages here: http://adlington-history.blogspot.com/2013/07/forgotten-pubs-corporation-inn-heath.html
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked the story, and I'm sure you're going to love your up-coming journey to your/our Ancestral Homeland. You'll probably find a few of your Ancestors' final resting place at Rivington Cemetery if you get chance to have a look.
Soak it up!
All the best
Keith