Chantry Chapel’s Western Front Finally Spotted...
I’m back in what has to be one of Wakefield’s most treasured possessions, its central parks of Thornes, Holmfield and Clarence, which helpfully meet up with one another to form a vast sweep of greenery, right on the doorstep of the city centre. It’s easy to take such things for granted, but it really is a place that should be protected with all the might that the population can muster.
Fortunately, there are people trying to do just that. The organisation ‘The Friends of Clarence, Holmfield and Thornes Park’ do all sorts of things to help maintain and safeguard the parks. I’m nothing to do with them, but I’m glad they exist and a fair amount of information used in this post comes from their excellent website [The Friends of Clarence, Holmfield and Thornes Parks].
I’m back in what has to be one of Wakefield’s most treasured possessions, its central parks of Thornes, Holmfield and Clarence, which helpfully meet up with one another to form a vast sweep of greenery, right on the doorstep of the city centre. It’s easy to take such things for granted, but it really is a place that should be protected with all the might that the population can muster.
Fortunately, there are people trying to do just that. The organisation ‘The Friends of Clarence, Holmfield and Thornes Park’ do all sorts of things to help maintain and safeguard the parks. I’m nothing to do with them, but I’m glad they exist and a fair amount of information used in this post comes from their excellent website [The Friends of Clarence, Holmfield and Thornes Parks].
Let’s go on a circular tour of the park, starting at what’s commonly known as Cannonball Hill, overlooking the bandstand. This is the slope used for the Clarence Park music festival and is also one of the best descents you’ll find whenever snow covers the ground. Throw yourself down at the mercy of gravity on a sled, rubber ring or plastic sheet and you’ll soon develop a theory on why this steep banking is known locally as Cannonball Hill, as you fly towards Denby Dale Road as if fired from a cannon.
This was why I thought it was so called, before I started up Wakefield - Hidden in Plain Sight, but there are other, perhaps more apt explanations. One source I came across suggests that excavations around the hill found cannonballs that dated from the Civil War. It postulated that Royalists made camp here on the high ground where Lowe Hill Castle used to be [Post 6] before attacking Roundheads who held Sandal Castle.
It’s a nice theory, but I’m not sure I believe it. For a start, I was under the impression that only bits of pottery and metalwork had ever been found in the limited amount of excavation that’s taken place around this site, not whole cannonballs. Also, I thought Wakefield (and Sandal Castle) was one of the last strongholds of the Royalists and that it was the Roundheads who attacked them.
Another basis for the name Cannonball Hill may be the fact that a cannon did once stand at the top of Lowe Hill, where the castle used to be and which is essentially the same elevation as Cannonball Hill. The cannon had been seized from the Russians after the Siege of Sevastopol in 1855 during the Crimean War and had been donated to Wakefield. The Government donated weapons to towns and cities across the Empire apparently. There must have been a hell of a lot of stuff to get rid of if Wakefield ended up with something.
Anyway, the cannon not only stood on the hill, it was fired several times too, at least in 1858 on the day that Queen Victoria passed through Wakefield by train. She was on her way to the opening of Leeds Town Hall and the cannon boomed away in her honour. Either that or some Republicans had got hold of it and were firing it in the direction of Kirkgate station when the Queen’s train stopped so she could use the facilities.
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| Sadly, Major Barker never got to drink from his own fountain, as it was erected to commemorate his death |
In the same year that Clarence Park opened, a memorial was placed within it to Major Barker who had died the year before, in the shape of an ornamental drinking fountain that is still there, near to Denby Dale Road. Major Barker, who I do hope was fond of shouting orders, was the owner of Thornes Mill. He must have been a decent boss because it was his workers who paid for the fountain that today is Grade II listed.
A granite water trough near to Major Barker’s drinking fountain commemorates notable resident of Wakefield, Ann Clarkson.
The
memorial to his sister was erected in the year following the
publication of that well-known book - 1888 - and was originally to be found at the junction of Westgate End and Ings Road.
Barker lived in Holmfield House, which was built in 1833 and is now the pub and hotel, the Holmfield Arms. After his death, the house went through a number of hands before it was bought by the Wakefield Corporation in 1918 along with the fourteen acres that belonged to it. In 1919, on National Peace Day, to commemorate the end of the Great War, Holmfield Park came into being.
Meanwhile, the house itself became the city’s first Museum from 1923 and was also home to a tea room. I hope the service was quicker than it is 90-odd years later on a hot summer’s day.
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| Major Barker's home, Holmfield House, now the Holmfield Arms hotel and pub |
Thus, Wakefield now had two neighbouring parks. But what of the third? Many Wakefieldians collectively call the three parks, Thornes Park, and indeed Thornes is the biggest, yet it is marginally the youngest. Ellie the dog and I now began to cross Lowe Hill and go in search of anything that remained of Thornes House, for this is where the story of Wakefield’s third public park begins.
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| Thornes House |
We
cut straight across the park from Lowe Hill, taking in the views of
Wakefield city centre from the same vantage point that I took the main
photograph for this blog. The small Wakefield College site that resides
in the centre of the park is our destination, for I’ve heard this is
where Thornes House stood, but I’m not entirely sure. I’m hoping to find some clues. It’s a Saturday, so I can snoop on the site to my heart’s content.
Shortly before I get to the site, I encounter a couple in their 60s, at a guess, walking their dog. I ask them if they happen to know exactly where Thornes House stood. Thinking about it now it was long shot, but they not only knew what I was talking about, at least one of them said they went to Thornes Grammar School, which Thornes House became once it stopped being someone’s personal dwelling. They were therefore able not only to point me in the direction of where Thornes House had stood, but also what some of the remaining old buildings were used for, at the time of the school.
My feeble attempts to draw their attention to my blog - I don’t think I even managed to tell them the correct address - at least led to an interesting discussion about Wakefield’s history. Independent of my own research, they suggested that Cannonball Hill was so called because cannonballs had been fired in the direction of Sandal Castle during the Civil War, so this appears to be a widely held belief. They also told me that when the school had a serious fire (which was in 1951) the children were taught for a time in Holmfield House, whilst the school was rebuilt.
With facts like that, they sounded like the type of people who might like my site. Shame they probably won’t be able to find it after I managed to mangle the URL.
Shortly before I get to the site, I encounter a couple in their 60s, at a guess, walking their dog. I ask them if they happen to know exactly where Thornes House stood. Thinking about it now it was long shot, but they not only knew what I was talking about, at least one of them said they went to Thornes Grammar School, which Thornes House became once it stopped being someone’s personal dwelling. They were therefore able not only to point me in the direction of where Thornes House had stood, but also what some of the remaining old buildings were used for, at the time of the school.
My feeble attempts to draw their attention to my blog - I don’t think I even managed to tell them the correct address - at least led to an interesting discussion about Wakefield’s history. Independent of my own research, they suggested that Cannonball Hill was so called because cannonballs had been fired in the direction of Sandal Castle during the Civil War, so this appears to be a widely held belief. They also told me that when the school had a serious fire (which was in 1951) the children were taught for a time in Holmfield House, whilst the school was rebuilt.
With facts like that, they sounded like the type of people who might like my site. Shame they probably won’t be able to find it after I managed to mangle the URL.
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| Old buildings of Thornes Grammar School |
I’ve only briefly looked into Carr up to now, but prolific doesn’t even seem to begin to cover his architectural career. In the eighteenth century, he appears to have had a hand in the construction of half the buildings in the north of England, as well as some in the Midlands. I think he may have to have a post all of his own on this blog at some point.
To Carr’s plans, the house was built between 1779 and 1782 for cloth merchant and MP, James Milnes. The estate had a stable block, hothouse, entrance lodges, a lake with an island (presumably the one that’s still there near Thornes Road) and, as one commentator put it, ‘the greatest variety of flowering shrubs perhaps ever collected in one spot’. Basically, it was a typical country manor.
The formal rose garden and conservatory that are now features of the park were formerly the kitchen garden of the house. The storks that I believe are positioned on the wall at the entrance to the rose garden - and which used to be at the Thornes Road entrance to the park where the Stork Cafe resides - originate from the crest of the Gaskell family, who were the last occupants of the house whilst it was still a personal residence. Charles Milnes-Gaskell, who was MP for Morley and chairman of the original Park Trustees, was indeed the one mentioned earlier who gave up some of his land to create Clarence Park.
Somewhere on the web, I read the enigmatic statement that during the First World War, his wife ‘proposed that the house be used as a military hospital’. This is as far as the information went, so currently I can only speculate as to whether this came to fruition. It appears as though Milnes-Gaskell was a benevolent man, but in the absence of any further details part of me can’t help wondering if he cried, ‘Get to Falkirk, woman! I’m not turning my beautiful home over to the military.’ I’d love to know if the proposal was ever put into practice. I haven’t been able to find any evidence that it was.
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| Thornes House, after someone left one of those dodgy phone chargers plugged in overnight |
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| Wakefield College building. Can you spot it as it blends in beautifully with the park's surroundings? |
In the book ‘Memories of Merry Wakefield’ by Henry Clarkson that was first published in 1887, he casually drops in the information that he was once ‘invited to meet the then Premier, Mr. Gladstone, at Thornes House, by my always kind friend, Mr. J. Milnes Gaskell.’* So, it seems that the house was home to a succession of MPs from the same family and William Gladstone himself once visited. I wonder if any of the students that attend here are aware that one of the 19th century’s greatest Prime Ministers once walked the grounds.
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| Face more stone than glad |
You would have thought that, for such a vast house, some of it would remain somewhere. Surely they didn’t bulldoze every last brick away when they were creating architectural hara-kiri in the second half of the twentieth century. I continue to circle the grounds, more in hope than expectation. Just as I’m about to give up, I find some wall and steps that look just possibly like they might be aged enough to have been part of an old country house. Have a look at the photos and see what you think. I’d be surprised if some of this wasn’t part of the original structure.
After taking numerous pictures in the manner of a forensic police photographer, in the hope of conjuring up the ghost of Thornes House, Ellie and I continue on our way to the pet cemetery that’s two or three hundred yards or so from where the house stood. How many public parks have their own pet cemetery? The Gaskell family buried the family pets here whenever one of them pegged it. The largest headstone is dedicated, ironically, to ‘My Mouse’. Another commemorates Geordie the dog.
It’s time to head for the Secret Garden.The position of the Secret Garden in Thornes Park is such that you’re unlikely to come across it during your usual travels through the park. Tucked away in the south-west corner, near the junction of Horbury Road and Gill Syke Road, many Wakefield folk are blissfully unaware of its existence, as was I, not long ago. That probably makes it a good location for some of the artefacts that can be found there, safe from the likely trespass of ne’er-do-wells like Kev, who we met in post 5 [Kettlethorpe Hall].
When I entered the garden, I still couldn’t be sure that the elusive part of Chantry Chapel would be there. However, I soon found it near the entrance. As with anything of this nature, being underwhelmed seems to be an inevitable consequence of being human. The journey from Chantry Bridge to Kettlethorpe Hall to here was bound to be more stimulating than the final destination. After all, what has the hunt been for - a very old piece of wall.
I remind myself that this very old piece of wall is nearly seven hundred years old and an important part of Wakefield’s history. As such, though, its presentation seems to be somewhat lacking. The project was supposed to have cost £20K, but you can’t help feeling, as you look at the stones, that they’ve just been dumped in the mud here. I’m sure there must be a reason why the wall is flat on its back. There must have been numerous considerations of which I am unaware, but erosion is surely going to be a rapid problem for the stones in their current situation.
In
what is the most ornate of all the stones, puddles had formed and moss
was already growing over much of the structure. Could the stones not
have been propped up a little so water could drain from them? Or could a
cheap structure not have been built to provide a roof over it? As it
is, it’s difficult to imagine the stones will be around in a hundred
years, never mind another seven hundred.
As I take some photos, Ellie inevitably jumps onto the stones, as she always likes to be in shot. This rather illustrates my point. As well as the weather, this medieval treasure is going to have dogs running over it and possibly even children. I just pray that she’s not going to relieve herself on the history. I don’t want dog pee to be added to the wall’s potential woes.
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| Ellie: 'Mountain Lion. What do you think?' |
For a time this chunk of the spire was to be found in the rockery at Holmfield House. When the rockery was removed to make room for the hotel’s extension in the 1990s, the spire also went, this time to the grounds of the Art Gallery that was on the corner of Wentworth Terrace for 75 years. The Gallery was originally the vicarage for the cathedral, so there seems to be a certain level of appropriateness. And why did the gallery close in 2009? At least partly because the Hepworth gallery was soon to be opened. The posts on this blog are linking up beautifully, don’t you think?
A much more interesting item was also being sold beneath Market Cross, however. More than one report from the early nineteenth century recounts how husbands were known to auction their wives there - I kid you not. This seems to have all been a big laugh for the folk of Wakefield. Whether the wives found it a giggle or not, who knows. The human ‘lot’ usually had a halter around her neck and it appears to have been a serious transaction. Was the wife really sold into servitude and/or taken away to live with a stranger? I’d love to know more.
Market Cross was demolished in 1866 because the powers that be wanted to open out Cross Square more than they wanted to preserve an attractive piece of architecture. Its removal was apparently very unpopular with the townsfolk - I mean, where were they going to sell their wives in future - but the Man, as always, couldn’t have cared less.
Pillars went in all directions (old pictures make it look like there were at least six of them). Some went to Clarke Hall and Alverthorpe Hall. The others have followed the pinnacle around, first going to Holmfield House, then the art gallery on Wentworth Terrace and now here, in the Secret Garden from 2012.
There have been some doubts cast on the authenticity of the pillars. In his excellent book, ‘Wakefield Then & Now: Extraordinary Tales of the Merrie City’, Michael J. Rochford points out that old photographs show the Market Cross as standing on columns much taller than the two that stand in the Secret Garden.
However, there are two more pillars lying on the ground. My guess is that these were part of the pillars that have been placed upright - they are different sections of the same supports - which would make the pillars about the right height. It would be difficult to make the pillars safe and secure if they stood as they did in the eighteenth century, yet unattached to the rest of the Market Cross building.
Imagining two columns made up of the sections to be found in the Secret Garden leads you to realise what an impressive construction the Market Cross would have been. It’s certainly a shame that it is no more. Such structures were present in many UK towns and a number survive. I remember sitting in a cafe in Barnard Castle and asking the staff what the unusual building was in the middle of the road outside. They handed me a laminated sheet telling me all about the history of Barnard Castle’s Market Cross. I knew nothing of Wakefield’s one at the time. If I had, I could have said something like, ‘Was it built as recently as 1747? Hmm, much younger than Wakefield’s, isn’t it?’
If the authorities of the Merrie City hadn’t been so short-sighted, staff at Costa Coffee could be handing out laminated sheets to tourists nowadays, explaining how best to sell one’s wife in Wakefield. An opportunity missed.
I take a seat on one the benches facing the pinnacle and the pillars, Chantry Chapel’s western front just to my right. I need a long rest before I try to haul my MS-weakened legs back to the car. Maybe Ellie needs a rest too. She jumps onto the bench next to me and sits down, pondering the same view as me.
‘You’re very lucky to have a park this great on your doorstep, you know,’ I tell her.
She looks down at her muddy paws. ‘Am I going to need a bath when I get home?’ she asks.
‘Afraid so,’ I reply.
I reflect on all the points of interest the parks have sent our way today: cannons from the Crimean War, cannonballs from the Civil War (possibly), the remains of a house Gladstone once visited, more artefacts of Wakefield’s past going back hundreds of years, just lying down for a rest of their own in a secret corner of Thornes Park. We’ve even come across the grave of the legendary rodent known only as My Mouse.
It’s all here, all in Wakefield - hidden in plain sight.
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