Borough Pit and the Early Water Supply to Ashton-under-Lyne

Here I am again, kicked out of bed by my bad chest in the early hours, and I am rather glad that I was, because I have discovered one of those historical buildings that rather tend to hide in plain sight. It's almost as if they are playing hide and seek with us, delighting in the fact that we miss them for years.

On an old OS map I noticed a coal mine in Ashton-under-Lyne called the Borough Pit. Walk up Cow Hill Lane, pass St. James Church, and on the left a few yards further up are some bungalows. The mine was basically behind these dwellings There were actually two shafts, but one is not labelled as such on the map.

Information about Borough Pit is thin on the ground, but it was certainly supplying coal to the town for many years. In December 1858 four colliers from this pit were in court charged with leaving their place of work without notice (1). And in the following year a banksman from the pit and a coal dealer were charged with stealing 2650 lbs of coal from the owners, J. Kenworthy & Co (2). From then on, references to the Borough Pit in the newspapers mainly concern the water being pumped from it. The growth of towns like Ashton brought many problems: sanitation, housing, lighting, and the supply of water were all matters that concerned local councils. So far as the supply of water was concerned, , the matter was particularly problematic for Ashton. It wasn't simply a matter of abstracting water from a stream to form a reservoir, because this could have an adverse affect upon numerous businesses both in the locality and further afield. Owners of mills, printworks, and assorted factories, were always keenly aware of their vulnerability as regards water, and they were never slow to sue. One of the characteristics of holes in the ground is that they fill with water, and so it was with the Borough Pit. I don't know how much water this pit could produce, but during the sinking of the nearby Lord's Pit springs were encountered that were producing 18,000 gallons per hour. By 1860 at least the council had decided to capitalise on this fact and was busy installing a pump to lift water from the pit and to deliver it by conduit to a nearby reservoir for consumption by the town (3). Opinions about the water were mixed with many complaints from consumers. One councillor declared that the water was, "rather of a tonic character", but he did state that there could be another cause for the complaints. Chemical reactions were causing the pipework to rust and the water to run red (4).

Over the next few years there were some pretty lurid descriptions of the water supply in Ashton. Analysis showed that the portion of the water coming from streams contained rotting animal and vegetable matter, while the water from the Borough Pit was exceptionally hard. Basically, the water was filthy, it stank, and it was destroying the very pipes used to convey it about the town. In 1861 it was said that the water had the colour, "...of marl and water mixed together", and that it was, "...utterly unfit for culinary or washing purposes". Even horses refused to drink it! (5)

The reservoir fed from the colliery was located on the east side of Henrietta Street, just north of Lennox Street. It was circular, and that probably suggests a tall structure like a gas holder of old. Height would have been important to pressurise the water as it entered the pipes. It would be fascinating to know what it looked like. I also noticed on the map that there were offices attached to the reservoir site, and I was delighted to discover on Google maps that the building still stands. When you zoom in on the roof line you can still be seen the words, 'Ashton-under-Lyne Waterworks 1838' carved into the stone.

The date dismisses the idea of this reservoir having been built specifically to contain water from the Borough Pit as that scheme came much later. This was probably the reservoir of the private company that supplied water to the town before the council took control. The water that it originally contained would have been abstracted from local streams.

When the pit stopped supplying water to the town is not known, but by 1883 it was certainly game over for Borough Pit as a coal mine. It was in that year that the remains of the colliery were sold by auction, including a 20 hp steam boiler, and a table steam engine of 15 hp (6). Even the brickwork was sold. This meant that the chimney and engine house had to be demolished, an operation that took place in front of a large crowd (7).

Since writing the above article, I have come across some other fascinating information about the early water supply in Ashton-under-Lyne and, as with the above, it all came about by looking at old maps. At the bottom left of where Ikea sits there was once a road that headed roughly south west called Robinson's Lane. Now completely obliterated, the lane once contained a feature that caught my eye: Robinson's Well. There is nothing unusual about a well being marked on early maps. There were dozens of them in the Ashton area, but they were usually simply marked 'well', or even abbreviated to just a 'w'. Most of them would also have been private affairs, perhaps associated with a farm or grand house, so this one aroused my interest because it meant that I could search for references to it by name in newspaper archives.

The main references to the well come from 1868 when it appears that the country was in the grip of a drought. Throughout this period, Robinson's Well remained a reliable source of water, so much so that farmers delivering milk to the locality would fill their churns with water for the return journey to their parched farms, often leaving no water remaining, but nobody minded because by morning it would always be full again. So grateful were the people of Ashton for this source of water during the drought that a well dressing was organised during the wakes week. From the description given in the newspaper, it was a grand affair with floral decorations, triumphal arches in front of the well, and banners with appropriate biblical passages written upon them.

The well dressing ran from Saturday August 15th, 1868, for five days. During that short period thousands of people visited and £17 15s 6d (Close on £2000 today) was raised simply by asking for a small contribution to partake of a glass of the celebrated water. The cricket ground adjacent to the well was leant to the organisers and all sorts of activities went on there, including a brass band, sack race, and dancing. Oh for such innocent days again!

The well and the lane were named after a Captain Robinson who occupied a nearby farm in the 18th century. Robinson's Cottage is shown on early OS maps and it stood roughly opposite No. 6 Uxbridge Street. A part of the site is not built on, so it would be fascinating to see if anything remains of the cottage below ground. The area was know for bullbaiting, and the well often provided refreshment for the dogs that were used in this cruel sport. (8)

The town had a number of public water pumps, but the wells were always considered to provide the better water for culinary purposes. One well had a particularly interesting story connected with it. It was known as the Cockhill pump, but also as the Jacobins pumps. It was located between the George and Dragon pub (In the days the we are talking of, the Gaping Goose) and the Market Avenue. The George and Dragon was where Santander stands today, and that puts the well somewhere at the back of Iceland.

In 1745 Bonnie Prince Charlie had attempted to reclaim the British Crown for his father, the uncrowned James III. He had landed in Scotland, marched south to Derby, and then retreated to his defeat at Culloden. Along the way, he passed through Manchester, once on his journey south, and again during his retreat. This was a conflict with religious roots and resentment festered in the English mind for many years after. There were two political camps, one represented by the Whigs, who favoured the exiled Stuart kings, and the Tories who supported their Hanoverian replacements.

At times Whigs took their life - or certainly their dignity - into their hands by even leaving their houses In Ashton they could find themselves being dragged to the Jacobins pump by a mob where they would be given a thorough soaking. Sometimes these soakings were celebrated with the well being decked out with ribbons and it would be a notable event in the town. The unfortunate Jacobite could expect no protection from the law. Any who refused the pump would find themselves incarcerated overnight in the Star Chamber lockup, once located next door to the Angel pub, on the orders of Jemmie Stopford, the sheriff's bailiff. (9)

Who would have thought that water, a commodity that we often take for granted, could yield so much history?

1. 1) Ashton Reporter, December 11th, 1858.
2. 2) Ibid May 7th, 1859.
3. 3) Ibid June 16th, 1860.
4. 4) Ibid June 15th, 1861.
5. 5) Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser, June 29th, 1861.
6. 6) Manchester Courier, April 14th, 1883.
7. 7) Stalybridge Reporter, April 28th, 1883
8. 8) Ashton Reporter August 22, 1868
9. 9) Ibid February 29th, 1868.