The next station stop is Duffield … and then Duffield

Sir Arthur with Effie, his early model

Today’s tech tycoons play with their spacecraft, but 150 years ago a wealthy Victorian built his own railway in his garden at Duffield Bank, complete with several tunnels and six stations. Sir Arthur Heywood had inherited money and the baronetcy from his father, and as a gifted amateur engineer wanted to test his belief in narrow gauge (15 inch) railways. Of course the standard gauge of four feet eight and a half inches had long been adopted in Britain, but Heywood thought that there was a role for much narrower gauge railways on private estates.

At the open day in 1894

Despite being a mile long, Heywood’s railway had no regular passengers and was really built as a testbed for his engineering experiments – a rich man’s passion. However, as can be seen, open days were held for people from the Duffield area. Remarkably, the rolling stock – all built in Heywood’s own workshop – included a dining car with a stove and a sleeper car, probably only used by his children! Several steam engines were built on site: the earliest was little Effie, pictured above at top, but later models were 0-6-0 tank engines Ella and Muriel.

Fine dining at Duffield

Rather sadly, despite all his efforts, there was little interest in building new lines on this gauge, the only taker was on the Eaton Hall estate in Cheshire, owned by the Duke of Westminster. Sir Arthur died in 1916 and his railway was broken up, with some equipment sold to other narrow gauge companies such as the Ravenglass and Eskdale line. Clearly Heywood underestimated the advantages of road travel, as did various attempts to operate light railways for passengers in the district. The Ashover and Clay Cross Railway was a two foot gauge line that ran a passenger service from 1924 to 1934, while the Leek and Manifold Railway was a two foot six inch line that operated from 1904 to 1934. Obviously, by the mid 30s competition from buses and private cars was killing off these marginal railways.

Source: Duffield Bank and Eaton Railways, Clayton Howard

Watery ways

The Derwent Valleybackbone of the county

When the rains come the streams fill, and we become suddenly aware of the network of waterways that surround us. Normally just half visible, these then threaten to flood the roads and menace our houses. The most fundamental feature of the landscape, brooks and rivers have been flowing in their current courses for over ten thousand years since the last ice age, and have had a dominant influence on our history, as water sources, barriers and boundaries, and also as liquid energy.

The meanings of river names are remarkably impenetrable: unlike most village names many seem to be pre-Saxon, and some even hint at a pre-Celtic language. Kenneth Cameron[i] had a hard time explaining Amber, Dove, Wye, Noe, Lathkill, Derwent and Ecclesbourne (this one of the few ‘bournes’ in the county). Of course there are several River Derwents in England, and it appears to mean something like ‘oak river’. But when does a brook become upgraded to river? And when does the tiny sic (pronounced ‘sitch’) gain the status of a brook?

Due to their permanence, rivers have historically been used as convenient boundary markers, as with the Dove as the Staffordshire border or the Erewash marking part of the Nottinghamshire boundary. Within the county, streams may also mark parish or hundred (wapentake) limits. In lowland counties rivers were often navigable, yet in Derbyshire most were barriers rather than aids to travel. In wet winters larger rivers were often impassable, except where rare and expensive bridges had been built, such as at Cromford or Whatstandwell. Early routes avoided river crossings where possible and kept to ridgeways, above the thickest woods on the river banks.  Seasonal flooding was so bad in the lower Dove valley when Daniel Defoe visited in the 1720’s that he abandoned trying to reach Ashbourne from Derby.

The River Amber floods South Wingfield church – again

It is believed that in pagan times water spirits (or gods or whatever) were worshipped; water being seen as the source of life. There is substantial archaeological evidence of votive offerings (such as money or jewellery) being found at sites of wells or springs. So this may explain a Derbyshire mystery: why were some medieval churches built so close to frequently flooding rivers? All Saints at South Wingfield is regularly swamped by the Amber, and is well away from the main village, and the same goes for Duffield’s St. Alkmund’s, built right on the banks of the Derwent, as is, further upstream, St. Helen’s at Darley Churchtown. Were these built on ancient sacred sites, or were these locations convenient for baptisms – or both?

Well and spring below St John the Baptist’s church at Matlock Bath

Watermills were common before the Normans arrived, but it is noticeable that many in Derbyshire were located on minor rivers rather than on the Derwent. Presumably the large rise and fall of the Derwent made it more difficult to harness the river’s power. Some of the sites, for example on the Lea Brook at Smedley’s in Lea, seem today to have too little flow to power a mill wheel, but most had millponds to provide reserves of water during dry spells. When Arkwright built his first mill at Cromford he used the water from the Bonsall Brook rather than the nearby river. Later mills (e.g. at Milford and Darley Abbey) which did use the river required massive engineering works to create their weirs and leats.


[i] Cameron, K. (1959) The Place Names of Derbyshire Vol. 1

Searching for St Alkmund

His stone sarcophagus?

Few people outside the Midlands have heard of this Saxon saint, but in Derbyshire he is commemorated by two churches, a well and a street, besides being the patron saint of the city of Derby. As with many saints from the Saxon period it is hard to sort the legends from the facts, but apparently he was King of Northumbria in the late eighth century until he was forced to flee south into Mercia when a rival branch of his family took the throne. He was murdered by Northumbrian agents about 800 CE and buried in Shropshire, after which a cult grew up around his name due to his reputation for acts of charity.

St Alkmund’s Well in Well Street

His remains were removed to Derby in 1140 and reburied in the church dedicated to him, which had a Saxon foundation, near the modern Jury’s Inn hotel. This church was re-built in the mid-nineteenth century but demolished in 1968 as part of Derby’s inner ring road development. A stone plaque marks the site today. The only positive aspect of this piece of urban vandalism (widely criticised at the time) was the discovery of what is believed to be St Alkmund’s stone sarcophagus, a fine piece of Anglo-Saxon stone carving, now in Derby museum. We must assume that this was brought from Shropshire, along with the saint’s remains, in the twelfth century, though this must have been a difficult operation, weighing as it does about a ton. The most likely route would have been by river, as the church was only two hundred yards from the Derwent. Not far away from the church, at the bottom of Well Street, which runs off North Parade, is St Alkmund’s Well. Now protected by iron railings, this had a rural setting until the early nineteenth century as it was in St Helen’s park. Today it must be one of the few holy wells in an urban setting, and was at one time the focus of church procession and well dressing.

Early postcard of St Alkmund’s Duffield

St Alkmund’s in Derby was conveniently near Ryknield Street, the old Roman road, which would have allowed regional pilgrims to travel to the shrine, while only a few miles north is another church with the same rare dedication, at Duffield. Here the church is sited curiously detached from the town and close to the river. Although the present church building is post-Conquest, this must have been a Saxon foundation in what was originally a very large parish. It is thought that the church’s siting may have been due to the use of the Derwent for baptism, although this has also led to severe and quite regular flooding of the building.

The lost fords of the Derwent – 2

Savepenny Lane looking towards Duffield on the opposite bank

The road layout south of Belper has changed hugely in the past 230 years. Before the Strutts built Milford bridge in about 1790 there were no bridges between Belper bridge and Duffield bridge. Milford was only a hamlet, and its name was originally ‘Muleford’, but with the growth of industry a better all-weather crossing was needed, as well as the construction of the impressive weir. Downstream the Derwent was forded at a point near the current railway station, as shown on Burdett’s map of 1791, and then near the church Duffield bridge is thought to have been built as early as the thirteenth century. In the eighteenth century this crossing was part of the Derby-Chesterfield-Sheffield turnpike route, and so would have been quite busy.

Burdett’s map showing river crossings near Duffield

The Duffield ford must have been more convenient for villagers, especially those going to Makeney or Belper, as well as for drovers moving cattle. In the eighteeenth century and earlier Makeney was a more important settlement than Milford, and it lay on the route of the Portway, which is thought to have crossed the Derwent nearby. The Holly Bush Inn claims to be one of the oldest in the county, and may have served long-distance travellers as well as locals. It may be significant that a holly bush is one of the earliest inn signs, as in the saying ‘A good wine needs no bush’.

The Holly Bush at Makeney

The route from Makeney to Duffield via the ford was once known as Savepenny Lane, since it allowed users to avoid paying the toll which the Strutts charged on their new bridge. However, this route was blocked by the Strutts; deepening the river at that point and blocking the lane on the west bank. The curious result is that today the lane still exists on the east bank, and in fact has recently been confirmed as a BOAT (byway open to all traffic), although it is a cul de sac. An ideal stroll, perhaps, before moving on to a lunchtime pint at the Holly Bush?